Gospel Story Finder

Sergio was a young man who wanted to go on a mission. He was studying at a university 300 kilometers from home. He would come home regularly and talk with his bishop and stake president. He did not feel worthy to go on a mission. He said his mind was not clean: he saw and heard too many things at the university that made him think of evil. He was challenged to read the Book of Mormon every morning before going to school. He did this, and in a few months he was able to control his thoughts and he and his leaders felt good about his going on a mission. He went and served very well.

After President Wilford Woodruff joined the Church he desired to serve a mission.
“I was but a Teacher,” he wrote, “and it is not a Teacher’s office to go abroad and preach. I dared not tell any of the authorities of the Church that I wanted to preach, lest they might think I was seeking for an office” (Leaves from My Journal, Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor Office, 1882, p. 8).
He prayed to the Lord, and without disclosing his desire to any others, he was ordained a priest and sent on a mission. They went to the Arkansas Territory.
He and his companion struggled through a hundred miles of alligator-infested swamps, wet, muddy, and tired. Brother Woodruff developed a sharp pain in his knee and could go no further. His companion left him sitting on a log and went home. Brother Woodruff knelt down in the mud and prayed for help. He was healed and continued his mission alone.
Three days later he arrived in Memphis, Tennessee, weary, hungry, and very muddy. He went to the largest inn and asked for something to eat and for a place to sleep, although he had no money to pay for either.
When the innkeeper found he was a preacher, he laughed and decided to have some fun with him. He offered Brother Woodruff a meal if he would preach to his friends.
A large audience of the rich and fashionable people of Memphis gathered and were quite amused by this mud-stained missionary.
None would sing or pray, so Brother Woodruff did both. He knelt before them and begged the Lord to give him His Spirit and to show him the hearts of the people. And the Spirit came! Brother Woodruff preached with great power. He was able to reveal the secret deeds of those who came to ridicule him.
When he was finished, no one laughed at this humble holder of the Aaronic Priesthood. Thereafter he was treated with kindness (see Leaves from My Journal, pp. 16–18).
He was under the guiding, protecting power of his Aaronic Priesthood. The same power can be with you as well.

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. At that time, the only means of travel between islands was by sailboat. Because of misunderstandings and traditions, it was difficult to find people willing to listen to us. However, one day a member told us that if we would be at a certain harbor on a particular island when the sun set the next day, a family would meet us there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! It was like finding a piece of gold. I was working alone at the time but quickly found four other members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island the next day.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. There was a nice breeze that moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the vast Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but as the sun climbed higher and the boat got farther from land, the wind began to play out and soon quit altogether, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean.
Those familiar with sailing know that to get anywhere, you need wind. Sometimes there are good breezes without storms and heavy seas, but often they go together. Sailors do not fear storms, for they contain the lifeblood of sailing—wind. What sailors fear is no wind, or being becalmed.
Time passed. The sun got higher, the sea calmer. Nothing moved. We soon realized that unless something changed, we would not arrive by sundown. I suggested that we pray and plead with the Lord to send some wind. What more righteous desire could a group of men have? I offered a prayer. When I finished, things seemed calmer than ever. We continued drifting.
Then one of the older men suggested that everyone kneel and all unite their faith and prayers together, which we did. There was great struggling of spirit, but when the last person opened his eyes, nothing! No movement at all. The sails hung limp and listless. Even the slight ripple of the ocean against the side of the boat had ceased. The ocean seemed like a sea of glass.
Time was moving, and we were getting desperate. This same man now suggested that everyone kneel again in prayer and each person in turn offer a vocal prayer for the whole group. Many beautiful, pleading, faithful prayers ascended to heaven. But when the last one finished and everyone opened their eyes, the sun was still burning down with greater intensity than before. The ocean was like a giant mirror. It was almost as though Satan was laughing, saying, “See, you can’t go anywhere. There is no wind. You are in my power.”
I thought, “There is a family at the harbor that wants to hear the gospel. We are here in the middle of the ocean and want to teach them. The Lord controls the elements. All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t He send it? It’s a righteous desire.”
As I was so wondering, I noticed this faithful older brother move to the rear of the boat. I watched as he unlashed the tiny lifeboat, placed two oars with pins in their places, and carefully lowered it over the side.
He looked at me and softly said, “Get in.”
I answered, “What are you doing? There is hardly room for two people in that tiny thing!”
“Don’t waste any time or effort. Just get in. I am going to row you to shore, and we need to leave now to make it by sundown.”
I looked at him incredulously, “Row me where?”
“To the family that wants to hear the gospel. We have an assignment from the Lord. Get in.”
I was dumbfounded. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. But as I looked into the face of that faithful brother, I sensed an intensity in his gaze, an iron will in his very being, and a fixed determination in his voice as he said, “Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen.”
I again objected, “Look, you’re over three times my age. If this is to be, let me row.”
With that same look of determination and faith-induced will, the old man replied, “No. Leave it to me. Get in the boat. Don’t waste more time talking. Let’s go!” At his direction we got into the boat, with me in the front and the old man in the middle, his feet stretching to the end of the boat, his back to me.
The glazed surface of the ocean was disturbed by the intrusion of this small boat and seemed to complain, “This is my territory. Stay out.” Not a wisp of air stirred, not a sound was heard except the creaking of oars and the rattling of pins as the small craft began to move away from the sailboat.
The old man bent his back and began to row. Dip. Pull. Lift. Dip. Pull. Lift. Each dip of the oar seemed to break the resolve of the mirrorlike ocean. Each pull of the oar moved the tiny skiff forward, separating the glassy seas to make way for the Lord’s messenger. Dip. Pull. Lift. The old man did not look up, rest, or talk, but hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed. The muscles of his back and arms, strengthened by faith and moved by unalterable determination, flexed in a marvelous cadence like a fine-tuned watch. It was beautiful. We moved quietly, relentlessly toward an inevitable destiny. The old man concentrated his efforts and energy on fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family that wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the skiff touched the shore of the harbor. A family was waiting. The old man spoke for the first time in hours and said, “Go. Teach them the truth. I’ll wait here.”
I waded ashore, met the family, went to their home, and taught them the gospel. As I bore testimony of the power of God in this church, my mind saw an old Tongan man rowing to a distant harbor and waiting patiently there. I testified with a fervor as great as any I have ever felt that God does give power to men and women to do His will if they will have faith in Him. I told the family, “When we exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we can do things we could not otherwise do. When our hearts are determined to do right, the Lord gives us the power to do so.”
The family believed and eventually was baptized.
In the annals of history, few will be aware of this small incident. Hardly anyone will know about this insignificant island, the family who waited, or the obscure, old man who never once complained of fatigue, aching arms, painful back, or a hurting body. He never talked about thirst, the scorching sun, or the heat of the day as he relentlessly rowed uncomplainingly hour after hour. He referred only to the privilege of being God’s agent in bringing a missionary to teach the truth to those who desired to hear. But God knows! He gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when necessary.

Christmas is a giving time of year for the young people of the Mt. Pleasant Second Ward, Mt. Pleasant Utah Stake. The youth were involved in service projects that helped emphasize the true spirit of giving.
In a combined effort to include the entire ward in their Christmas service projects, the Young Men and Young Women supplied 12 small Christmas trees to special members of the ward, some elderly and unable to get a tree for themselves and some who simply deserved a little extra cheer. The Young Men cut the trees, attached stands, and arranged to deliver the trees. The Young Women procured lights and decorations. The highlight of the evening was the surprised looks on the recipients’ faces as the youth went caroling to deliver the trees. One brother commented, “Why, no one has ever brought me a Christmas tree before!”

“It’s fun making valentines for your friends for Valentine’s Day,” said Goose, cutting out a big red heart from a piece of red paper.
“Lots of fun,” said Gander, pasting a big red heart on a piece of lacy white paper.
Goose took a crayon and wrote, “From Guess Who” across the bottom of the valentine she had just finished making.
Gander took a crayon and wrote “From an admirer” across the bottom of the lacy valentine he had just finished making.
“There,” said Goose. “I’m done.”
“So am I,” said Gander.
“They do look nice, don’t they?” asked Goose.
“Very,” said Gander.
“Whom shall we give valentines to this year, Gander?” asked Goose.
“Why, to all our old friends, of course, Goose!” said Gander. “And to our new friend, Bear.”
“To our new friend, Bear?” said Goose. “But, Bear is still sleeping. He doesn’t wake up till spring!”
“I guess we’ll just have to wake him, then,” said Gander.
“But won’t Bear be a bit grumpy if we wake him?” asked Goose.
“Not when we give him his valentines,” said Gander smiling.
“I hope you’re right!” said Goose.
Delivering valentines to all their old friends was easy for Goose and Gander. The friends were all waiting for them when they rang their friends’ doorbells.
But delivering valentines to their new friend was not easy. Bear was not up and waiting for them.
He was sound asleep.
“Maybe we should just leave Bear’s valentines on his doorstep, Gander,” said Goose.
“But then he won’t get them till spring, Goose,” said Gander. “And Valentine’s Day is today, not in spring!”
Goose knew Gander was right. She rang Bear’s doorbell again. Brnnng! Brnnng! Brnnng!
This time Bear answered. “Is it spring already?” Bear asked, yawning.
“It isn’t spring yet, Bear,” said Gander.
“Then why did you wake me?” asked Bear, looking and sounding a bit grumpy.
“Because it’s Valentine’s Day!” said Goose.
“Valentine’s Day?” said Bear. “Gruuump! What’s Valentine’s Day?”
“Valentine’s Day is a special day when you give valentines to all your friends,” said Gander.
“Valentines?” said Bear. “Gruuump! What are valentines?”
“This is a valentine,” said Gander, quickly handing Bear the big red lacy valentine that he had been holding behind his back.
“And this is a valentine,” said Goose, quickly handing Bear the big red lacy valentine that she had been holding behind her back.
Bear took them and read them:
Having a friend like you is nice, Bear,
Especially on Valentine’s Day.
From an admirer
Having a friend like you, Bear,
makes Valentine’s Day happy for me.
From guess who
“No one has ever given me a valentine before. These are beautiful. Thank you, Goose and Gander,” said Bear.
That night as Goose and Gander were getting ready for bed, their doorbell rang.
It was Bear. “I wasn’t sleepy after you left, so I made these for you.” He handed Gander a big purple valentine, and Goose a big orange valentine. “I hope you like them.” Bear grinned worriedly. “Are the colors all right? Purple and orange were the only colors I had.”
“Purple is my favorite color,” said Gander.
“And orange is my favorite color,” said Goose.
Gander read his big purple valentine:
Sharing Valentine’s Day with you,
Gander, is more important to me than sleeping!
From an admirer
“Thank you, Bear,” said Gander.
Goose read her big orange valentine:
Having a friend like you, Goose, makes
Valentine’s Day worth waking up for!
From guess who
“Thank you, Bear,” said Goose.
“Next fall,” said Bear, “I’m setting my alarm clock for Valentine’s Day. It’s too special a day to sleep through.”
“We were just going to have some warm milk and bread and honey before going to bed, Bear,” said Goose. “Would you join us?”
“I’d love to,” said Bear. “I haven’t eaten anything since last fall!”
When all the milk and bread and honey had been eaten, Bear wiped his mouth politely and said, “I have my winter nap to finish. Thank you for the midwinter snack. It was delicious. And thank you for waking me up today.”
“You didn’t mind, then?” said Goose.
“Not at all,” said Bear. “It was Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? But,” he added, yawning, “I wouldn’t want to be awakened again. Not by anybody! Not for anything! Not till spring!”
Bear yawned again. “Suddenly I’m very sleepy,” he said. “It must be all that warm milk. …” And even as Bear spoke, his head began to nod, his eyes began to close, and he fell sound asleep!
“Bear’s asleep in our kitchen!” exclaimed Goose. “What shall we do?”
“Wait here,” said Gander. “I’ll be right back.”
When Gander returned, he was carrying a big blanket.
“What are you going to do with that?” asked Goose.
“Cover Bear,” said Gander.
“And let him sleep right here—till spring?” asked Goose.
“Do you have a better idea?” asked Gander.
Goose didn’t, so she tucked in Bear’s blanket, turned off the lights, and tiptoed to bed.

After my husband passed away, loneliness enveloped me. A heaviness pressed on my chest. Each time I served in the celestial room, I prayed to find solace. Little by little, grief lifted, and peace crept into my heart as I began to see a celestial view of life. I now find it a privilege to see couples holding hands, friends embracing, and families gathered in a circle, enjoying the Spirit. Because of the Savior’s Atonement and my covenants, I know the blessing of a forever family will be mine in eternity.

“Mom, I’m bored,” Mindy said.
Mom had just picked Mindy up from her piano lesson, and now they were at the stake center waiting for Mindy’s sisters to finish rehearsing for the stake musical.
Her older sister, Jessica, and younger sister, Krista, had both gotten parts in the play. But Mindy didn’t get a part. She envied her sisters a little, but she was also kind of glad she wouldn’t have to perform in front of the whole stake. That sounded scary.
“Well, why don’t you go find some other kids who aren’t practicing right now?” Mom said.
“OK,” Mindy said.
Mindy left the cultural hall and followed the sound of voices to a nearby classroom. Peeking in the door, she saw several kids she didn’t know.
“They must be from other wards in the stake,” Mindy thought.
She wanted to meet them, but she was too afraid to say hello. Instead, she walked back to the cultural hall and sat down by Mom.
“Didn’t you find the other kids?” Mom asked.
“I found them, but I don’t know any of them,” Mindy said.
“It’s not that hard to meet people,” Mom said. “When I was your age, I was really shy too, but then I decided I didn’t want to be shy anymore. I made a goal to meet one new person every day.”
“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t really think I can not be shy,” Mindy said.
“If you just try, it will get easier,” Mom said. “You can start small with just one person. Look, a girl is sitting over there by herself. Why don’t you go say hello?”
Mindy tried to think of an excuse, but she knew she should take her mom’s suggestion. She said a quick prayer asking Heavenly Father to help her, took a few deep breaths, and walked over to the girl. “Meeting one person does seem a lot easier than approaching a whole group,” she thought.
“Hi,” Mindy said.
“Hi,” the girl replied. “My name is Shalee. What’s yours?”
“My name is Mindy.” There was a bit of silence, and then Mindy thought of a question to ask. “Are you in the play?”
“No,” Shalee said. “But that’s my dad up there practicing,” she said, pointing to the stage.
“My sisters are in the play too,” Mindy said.
Their conversation went on as they learned about each other. Pretty soon practice was over, and it was time to go home.
“Who is your new friend?” Mom asked on the way home.
“Her name is Shalee, and she’s 11 like me,” Mindy said. “She was really nice.”
“And it wasn’t scary?” Mom asked.
“Well, I was scared to talk to her at first, but I’m glad I did,” Mindy said. “Maybe meeting new people isn’t so hard after all.”

Tyson Kemege, stricken with polio and orphaned as an infant, grew up in Nairobi, Kenya, where he never slept on a mattress and rarely had two meals a day. He got around only with the aid of a pair of hand crutches.
He made up his mind to attend Kenya’s Augustana College to study information technology, but with no family and no money, his prospects seemed bleak.
Brother Kemege, who had joined the Church a few years earlier after completing his secondary education, contacted a senior missionary couple and told them of his desires. The missionaries put him in touch with the Perpetual Education Fund (PEF) committee. A PEF loan helped him gain admission to the school.
“I’m the luckiest man on earth,” Brother Kemege often told the missionaries.
Today, Brother Kemege serves as student body president of Augustana University and holds two callings in his ward.

The movie Chariots of Fire is the moving story of Eric Liddell, the gold medal winner in the 400-meter track event in the 1924 Paris Olympics. Liddell was not only a gifted athlete who held to his convictions, but he lived out his faith to the very end as a Christian missionary in China. He was such an incredible athlete that his goal was to get to the 1924 Olympics in France and run in his best race—the 100-meter race. He trained hard to get in top shape, and his country of Scotland was sure that he would win a gold medal for them. There was just one problem. The heat to decide who would make the Olympics was on a Sunday, and Liddell would not run on Sunday. Due to this conflict he chose not to run in the 100-meter race. Instead he qualified for the 200- and 400-meter races because those heats were not held on Sunday, but no one expected him to come close to winning. Just prior to the start of the 400-meter race, he was given a piece of paper on which was written words from 1 Samuel 2:30: “Them that honour me, I will honour.” Liddell ran with that piece of paper in his hand and held onto this promise tightly. And, to everyone’s surprise, he won the gold medal and broke a world record.

The first time I saw the Saturn V vehicle, it seemed unimpressive. It looked exactly like all the other boosters. All boosters look exactly three-quarters the height of your TV screen, don’t they? It was out on the beach all by itself. There was no way to judge its height. We had spent all day on Missile Row at Cape Canaveral, Florida, becoming aware of some of the other booster systems. The second day, on our tour of the cape, we went out on pad 39A where the Saturn V test vehicle was sitting. It was 3.7 miles away when we started from the firing room, and the closer we got the more impressed I became. When we got there it was like trying to view the Empire State Building from the sidewalk. It was just a great curved mass of aluminum above me. The best way to see it was to get into the umbilical tower, press the button for the 23rd floor, which is the boarding platform, go up and look down on that vehicle, and then contemplate that someday you might be able to go into that white room and lie on that couch while someone back in the firing room pushes the famous button. It’s a very impressive sight. It gave me gooseflesh. Everybody likes to drive a souped-up car and have some real power in his hands. When you’re in control of the Saturn V, you’re burning fuel at the rate of 14.8 tons a second. The first stage holds 4.8 million pounds of propellant. You run out of that amount of fuel in two minutes and 31 seconds. The ten first-stage fuel lines going into those engines are the size of sewer pipes. With your hands on those controls, you have a certain sense of power.

I came from a family in Moroni that wasn’t active. I can’t remember sitting in a ­sacrament meeting with my mom and dad. My dad would always pound on the furnace register to make sure I got up for church, but there were long stretches when I can’t remember going to church. My dad was a schoolteacher, so in the summers we’d go fishing or hiking or camping or anything else—just not church. One time, after being gone all summer, I went to church, and Veldon Blackburn, a friend of mine, asked why I had gone inactive. I told him I wasn’t inactive; I just didn’t come to church.

During the summer a few years later I worked hard to be the best and get the best job in Moroni, which was working on the vaccination crew for the Moroni Feed Company. I worked really hard and made the crew. We could go through a flock of ten thousand turkeys in an hour and not lose one. One time we were vaccinating some turkeys up by Fountain Green, and they were just a little bigger than usual. We were taking them out of the brooder coop, vaccinating them, putting them into a truck, and taking them out to the growing pens. We had finished vaccinating about half the flock when I grabbed a turkey, gave it a shot, and threw it up into the truck. As I grabbed another turkey, the last turkey decided it didn’t want to be in the truck, so it came out and hit me in the back of my arm, and I gave myself the next shot in my hand between my thumb and index finger. I will now never get fowl cholera, erysipelas, or Newcastle disease.

I grew a big abscess about the size of a ­tennis ball in the palm of my hand, so I went to the family doctor, Dr. Speakman, in Mount Pleasant. After a few months of lancing the abscess and getting the gunk out of it, the doctor said he would have to take three of my fingers off to save my hand. I’m kind of attached to those fingers—and they make it much easier to play the guitar! I told Dr. Speakman that I wanted to speak to my dad. He worked just up the street in the school district office, so Dr. Speakman left the room to contact him. As soon as he left I started to really pray—­probably the first sincere prayer of my life. Before the doctor came back in with my dad, I knew what my dad was going to say and what he was going to do. I knew that I would not lose my fingers or my hand. A calm and a peace had settled over me, and I just knew I would be okay.

That day I made some promises to the Lord: (1) I would live the Word of Wisdom to the best of my knowledge and ability, and (2) I would serve Him all of my life (I didn’t realize people lived so long). Back then that meant I would serve a mission. Both of these promises I have worked hard to keep.

My dad took me out of the office and put me in the car, and we went straight to Provo to a specialist—Dr. Aaron. The hand took over a year to heal. In fact, the next summer, when I was in basic training, I remember leaving blood on the rocks in the field where we did push-ups.

I had had a simple prayer answered, and I knew it, and the important thing is that I knew the Lord knew me. I can’t explain the peace and comfort that came over me in the doctor’s office that day. It took a few years to even understand what had really happened that day in that office, but it has made all the difference in my life—and for a seventeen-year-old kid in a small town hanging around the friends I had, keeping the Word of Wisdom was a big challenge.

No one in my family had ever gone on a mission. It was not expected of us. So when I announced I wanted to serve a mission, it surprised many. It may have even shaken a few testimonies. I had another hurdle to overcome though, because in those days the government would only let two missionaries out from a ward at any one time, and I had a lot of friends whose parents were active who would fill up that quota. So I joined the Army National Guard so that I would not have to take one of those spots for missionaries.

My miraculous conversion was nothing more than the answer to a simple but very sincere prayer.

These activities culminated in a big event during Interfaith Week in November 2019. (The organisation of this was personally stressful, due to the chair having resigned just three weeks earlier.) The choir sang at our chapel in Cardiff at the end of a wonderful torchlit walk between three other places of worship, supported by around 150 people of different faiths and including an MP, a Welsh Assembly member and its deputy minister. I had spent a lot of time praying for the success of the event and was powerfully reminded that this was His Church and work, and not mine—and I should not worry quite as much.

For one family home evening, my dad wanted to take advantage of a pause in the rainy weather to go on a walk around the neighborhood. I grumbled and complained that it was too wet and muddy to go walking. I used the excuse that I had a ballet recital that week and didn’t want to sprain an ankle, but my dad didn’t buy it. He insisted that it was going to be the activity for the evening. I murmured a bit more about the unfairness and my recital, but we left on the walk anyway.
As I glumly stomped outside for the walk with my family, I was determined not to smile or be happy. I succeeded in feeling miserable until we reached the end of the street. Then we turned the corner and I saw, in full force, nature’s beauty and wonder. Before me was a gorgeous sunset, and opposite it was a rainbow arching above our neighborhood rooftops. I immediately forgot all about being miserable and looked around in awe.
On the way home I said a prayer of gratitude, thanking God for the beauty of His creations. I later thanked my dad for choosing the activity and for allowing us to enjoy nature for that family home evening.

God expresses His love for us by helping us to progress and reach our potential. Perhaps a simple story will illustrate this point. A young man could not get his computer to work properly. Soon he became discouraged. His temper grew short, and he threatened to destroy the computer. His wise father intervened and took his son to a local vendor to get an instruction manual. After all, who would know more about a computer than the person or company that created it? By working within the guidelines given in the instruction book, the boy soon enjoyed the full potential of his computer.

While my father met with customers, I had to either sit in the lobby, wait in the car, or walk around outside. I would frequently get tired of waiting for my father to finish working, so he decided to keep me busy. We went to a bank and bought 40 rolls of pennies and a collection booklet. I sifted through all the pennies and sorted them by year so I could fill up the collection. If I had finished sorting all those pennies by the time he got out of his meeting, we would find another bank and swap pennies.
My father said that if I gave the bank tellers my word that each roll of pennies I was trading had 50 pennies, I wouldn’t have to wait for them to count them. They would simply give me new rolls to replace them. Sure enough, I learned that if I said, “I’ve counted these. I promise that there are 50 pennies in each roll,” the bank tellers trusted me. I learned the importance of living up to my word. I also realized that some other little boy had probably counted the pennies I received, and that I had to rely on him to be honest as well. I never received a roll with fewer than 50 pennies, so I learned to trust others and to be trustworthy in all that I do.

Several years ago after my mission and while I was still full of adventure, I had the opportunity to go to Austria to work as a nanny. After one semester of German, I thought I should be good to go. I flew into Switzerland and caught a train to take me to Innsbruck. Unfortunately, I got on the wrong train because I ended up going further into Switzerland—all the way to the end of the line. I got off the train to ask for some help, but nobody spoke English and my one semester of German hadn’t made me quite as fluent as I had hoped. I stood on the train platform telling myself to keep it together, don’t cry, it will be alright. I have never felt more alone in my life. I was totally lost, alone and afraid. Completely overwhelmed, I couldn’t think of anything to help myself other than pray. After standing on the platform for what seemed like forever, a woman showed up and she spoke a little English. Actually, she spoke a lot more English than I did German. That lovely lady took the time to help me get on the right train and I was eventually able to get to my original destination.

One such experience in my life took place nearly thirty years ago when I was a young missionary serving in southern Chile. On a warm summer evening in a small Chilean village filled with humble homes linked by dirt roads, my companion and I were engaged in routine missionary activities. Tucked in my pocket was a trifold organizer that contained our calendar for the week. On this particular evening we were scheduled to teach the second discussion to a newly contacted family. We artfully dodged the barefoot children who were playing soccer in the streets. The smoke-filled air was evidence that most people were cooking their evening meal.

As we approached the small house, the children ran to alert their parents that we had arrived. We entered the humble home, and the family gathered for our lesson. In those days the second discussion was the plan of salvation—one of my favorites. As the lesson progressed I made eye contact with the mother and the father and shared my testimony of the truthfulness of this plan. The normally energetic children sat quietly on the knees of their parents. We spoke about how they had lived before coming to earth and about God’s plan for how they could return to live with Him and their family forever.

As my companion gave his portion of the discussion, I had a profound experience. The Spirit touched my heart in a way I had never felt before. At that very moment I could see with great clarity that this family had divine potential. I was overcome with the Spirit and remember feeling that the Holy Ghost was bearing witness to me in a very personal way that the work I was engaged in was true and that God was the author of this plan of salvation.

I did not know at the time if this family was having the same experience, but my feelings were undeniably from God. The sweet witness was profound and clear. At the conclusion of the discussion I felt an urgency to get back to my apartment and record this special experience in my journal. I did not want to forget one detail.

That evening I carefully wrote about my experience, making special note of the spiritual confirmations I had received. I concluded my journal entry that night with the following sentence: “If someday in the future I ever find myself questioning my faith, please read this journal entry!” This experience is an example of a monument that I raised to help me remember what Heavenly Father had done for me.

One Sunday Adrianne sat listening to Sister Newby in sacrament meeting. Sister Newby was Adrianne’s Merrie Miss teacher, and one of Adrianne’s favorite people.
“Remember what our prophet, President Benson, told us at conference,” Sister Newby said. “‘The great test of life is obedience to God. … The great task of life is to learn the will of the Lord and then do it. The great commandment of life is to love the Lord.’”*
Normally Adrianne liked to hear everything that Sister Newby had to say—but not today. Something was bothering Adrianne, and the words of President Benson made her feel more uneasy.
As soon as sacrament meeting was over, Adrianne went right up to Sister Newby. “You gave a nice talk,” she said.
“Thank you, Adrianne. I hope that it meant something to you.”
“Did President Benson really say the great task in life is to learn the will of the Lord and then do it?”
“Yes, he did,” said Sister Newby. “He said it in April conference a few years ago.”
“How do we know what the will of the Lord is?”
“Sometimes we know because the prophets have told us. And sometimes we know because we keep having a feeling about something. We feel like there is something we should do, and the feeling won’t go away.”
“That’s what’s happening to me,” said Adrianne. “I keep having a feeling that I should do something nice for a new girl named Rita in my class at school. I keep thinking I should make my favorite pumpkin cookies** and give them to her.”
“Why don’t you do it?” asked Sister Newby. “That would be an easy task—a fun one too.”
“I’m scared,” Adrianne admitted. “I don’t really know Rita, and I’ve never seen her parents. Maybe they’ll think I’m a little weird.”
“Is that what you thought when I brought you those brownies when your family moved here?” asked Sister Newby.
Adrianne was embarrassed as she remembered the delicious brownies Sister Newby had brought them last spring. “No, but you did it because you were going to be my teacher.”
Sister Newby laughed. “I did it because at the time I had a feeling that it would be a nice thing to do.”
“I see what you mean,” said Adrianne. “Well—I think Heavenly Father wants me to take cookies over to Rita’s house, so I’m going to do it!”
When Adrianne got home from school on Monday, she started making pumpkin cookies right away. After they were baked and cooled, she frosted them with creamy white frosting. The longer she worked on the cookies, the more she had doubts about delivering them to Rita.
“I don’t think I’ll take these to Rita,” Adrianne said to her mom as she finished frosting them. “What if Rita won’t even open the door. I’ll stand there looking really silly.”
Adrianne’s mom had agreed with Sister Newby when Adrianne explained the feeling she had been having. Mom now offered to drive Adrianne to Rita’s house, adding, “But you do what you think is best.”
“I’m not sure what I want to do. I keep thinking of what President Benson said. ‘The great test of life is obedience to God. … The great task of life is to learn the will of the Lord and then do it. The great commandment of life is to love the Lord.’”
Adrianne looked at the pumpkin cookies. “Well, I do love the Lord, and I keep thinking He wants me to take these cookies to Rita. So I guess I’ll just do it if you’ll please drive me there and wait in the car.”
“Sure,” said Mom. “I’ll be glad to.”
Adrianne put the cookies on a paper plate and covered them with plastic wrap. They looked wonderful. Encouraged, she went into her bedroom and said a prayer. That gave her even more courage. Then she and Mom drove to Rita’s house.
“Wish me luck,” said Adrianne as she left the car and started up the walk to the front porch. It seemed like a long walk to Adrianne, and it took forever for the door to open after she rang the doorbell.
Later, when Adrianne left Rita’s house, she ran back to the car. “I can’t believe I was in there all that time,” she said when she looked at the clock in the car. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
“That’s OK,” said Mom. “When you’ve been a mom as long as I have, you come prepared.” She held up a book she was reading. “How did it go?”
“It was wonderful! Rita was so surprised that she didn’t know what to say. We just stood there looking at each other at first. Then she invited me in, and we started talking and talking. And you’ll never guess what she said.”
“I give up. What did she say?”
“While we were talking, she found out I’m a Latter-day Saint. One of her best friends where she used to live was a Church member too. She asked me if she could go to church with me!”
“I think you were right, Adrianne. Heavenly Father did want you to go over and get to know Rita.”
“Yes, and I’m happy I did. I can’t wait for Sunday to come. You know, I have a feeling that Sister Newby won’t be a bit surprised when I bring Rita to Merrie Miss class.”

I know that many of you are concerned about raising your children during these difficult times and increasing their faith. When my wife and I were starting our family in the San Francisco Bay Area, we had that same concern. At a critical point our stake members were advised by Elder Harold B. Lee, then a member of the Twelve, that we could raise our families in righteousness if we would:
Follow the prophet.
Create the true spirit of the gospel in our hearts and homes.
Be a light to those among whom we live.
Focus on the ordinances and principles taught in the temple. (See D&C 115:5; Harold B. Lee, “Your Light to Be a Standard unto the Nations,” Ensign, Aug. 1973, 3–4.)
As we followed this counsel, our faith increased and our fears decreased. I believe we can raise righteous children anywhere in the world if they are taught religious principles in the home.

I, like Nephi, was truly born of goodly parents. They taught me to be happy. But I think one of the happiest moments of my life was to finally graduate from high school. Because of a promotion for my father, our family moved from San Diego to Los Angeles. I ended up going to three different high schools in my senior year. In my last high school, the school officials weren’t even sure I was going to graduate because of the differences in requirements. All I knew is that I had purchased my cap and gown and I was walking in that graduation, with or without their approval! I did get their approval and I did graduate. And I was so happy!

The reason why I was so happy was because now I could go on my mission! I couldn’t wait to serve the Lord on a mission. I went to South America, the Kentucky-Tennessee Mission. That’s south in America . . . Deep South. I even learned a new language! I loved serving the Lord and those good people there. I never knew a happier time in my entire life than teaching the gospel all the time! I knew that the mission was to last two years, and then I would graduate that part of my life and return home to be with my family. Again, although sad to leave those good people of my mission, I was very happy to hop on that plane and arrive at the Los Angeles International Airport. The plane arrived nearly a half an hour ahead of schedule. My heart could hardly contain itself as I waited for my turn to walk off the airplane and have that joyous reunion with my loved ones! When I walked into the terminal, there was no one there to greet me!!! I was too early! When I finally saw my family running into the terminal and being able to hug them all, I felt as Alma, the younger, meeting up with the sons of Mosiah after their wonderful mission experience. This had to be true JOY!!