Gospel Story Finder

Family members, especially spouses, probably have the greatest need for trust. And they should be able to have the greatest confidence in one another. Yet there are those who violate that trust. I still remember two men I worked with nearly eighteen years ago. Upon learning that I was engaged to be married, they proceeded to tell me some extremely personal things about their wives. I didn’t want to hear it, and I got away from the presence of these men as quickly as I could. I wish I had had the maturity to tell them kindly that I didn’t want to hear such things and that their wives would likely be horrified at this betrayal. But even then I did have the maturity to see the enormous wrong these men were doing and to vow that I would never betray my wife in such a way.

I was playing the piano after Church when my five-year-old cousin walked up beside me and asked, “What are you playing?” I replied, “The piano.” He said, “No. What song?” I told him it was “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief.” Seeing that the title didn’t really mean anything to him, I tried to clarify by saying, “It’s a hymn.” I finished playing the song and turned to a different one, to which he asked, “Is this one a her?”
—Natausha B., Texas

That was five years ago. Now, Zayne is a deacon in the Lolo Ward of the Stevensville Montana Stake. When he turned 12, he wanted to fulfill his priesthood responsibilities by passing the sacrament. That was a big challenge for a boy who must use crutches to walk.

Originally, Zayne tried to pass the sacrament while balancing on his crutches. When that didn’t work, he decided to use his wheelchair instead. Now Zayne passes the sacrament by placing the trays on his lap and wheeling down the aisles.

Children are so capable of learning the significant things of the kingdom. As we listen to them, we can better understand how they are applying what they are learning about the gospel. A father explained to his four-year-old daughter that the family had spent most of the day cleaning the house and every room was clean except one.

“Do you know which room is not clean?” he asked her.

“Mine,” she quickly replied.

“Do you know anyone who could help clean your room?” he asked, expecting her to answer that she could.

Instead she replied, “Well, Daddy, I know that any time you are scared, worried, or need help, you can get down on your knees and ask Heavenly Father to help.”

It is interesting to note that as we listen to our children, they can also teach us. A father shared an experience he had with his eight-year-old daughter. He said: “While I was contemplating remarks for my sacrament meeting talk on ‘Becoming like Little Children,’ I asked my daughter why we needed to become like little children. She responded, ‘Because we are all little children compared to Jesus, and because little children have a good imagination.’”

Surprised by the last part of her answer, he asked why we need a good imagination. She replied, “So we can imagine Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross, and when we take the sacrament we can think about Him.”

As in all things, the Savior set the example for us in how we should love and teach our children. When He appeared to the Nephites in the Western Hemisphere, the scriptures tell us that as He spoke to the people, “he wept, … and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them.”

Referring to this occasion, President Gordon B. Hinckley said, “There is no more tender and beautiful picture in all of sacred writing than this simple language describing the love of the Savior for little children.”

The key to accomplishing effective gospel teaching in the home is to invite the Spirit of the Lord to be with us. Some of the best counsel my husband and I received during some turbulent times of raising our children was to do all that is possible to invite and keep the Spirit in our home. Children cannot learn spiritual things and have spiritual feelings without the guidance of the Spirit.

As parents, we can share our testimony of Jesus Christ with our children often. The bearing of testimony, whether during family home evening or in a teaching moment, will invite the Spirit. President Boyd K. Packer also instructs us to “teach our young people to bear testimony—to bear testimony that Jesus is the Christ, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, that the Book of Mormon is true.”

President Hinckley reassures us: “Of all the joys of life, none other equals that of happy parenthood. Of all the responsibilities with which we struggle, none other is so serious. To rear children in an atmosphere of love, security, and faith is the most rewarding of all challenges.”

I know—with an exclamation mark—that children can receive a witness by the Spirit that brings conviction and commitment to their hearts! I bear witness that this is our charge, this is our opportunity: to diligently teach and testify to our children of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, that they might also hear the “voice of gladness.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The day that changed everything for the Quashigah family was the day that Vincent attended a funeral in Kpong for a relative. The funeral was held at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Vincent was not familiar with the Church and did not recognize it as the same church that Esinam’s Book of Mormon had come from. However, he was deeply impressed with the dignity, peace, and simplicity of the funeral service, and he promised himself that he would find out more.
The following week he searched online for anything he could learn about the Church. His search was directed by the Spirit, and he felt a peaceful satisfaction as he learned exciting teachings and principles. He felt the Spirit bear witness to him of these things, found the location of the nearest chapel, and attended church meetings the first Sunday following the funeral. After asking for membership, he met with the full-time missionaries (Elders Tameklo and Ntambwe) and was baptized three weeks later. His family attended the baptism and Sabbath meetings the following day.
Brother Quashigah subsequently received the priesthood and was able to baptize Sister Quashigah and the eligible children after they had met with the missionaries. Sister Quashigah is quick to point out, with a smile, that the family became members of the same church that she attempted to introduce to them when she was given that first Book of Mormon several months earlier.

Bishop Burton: I can remember how frightened I was the first time I was assigned to go home teaching. My companion was a less-active Melchizedek Priesthood holder, but he was a faithful home teacher. When we went into the homes of the people, that tough, large, rather rough-appearing man was as meek and mild as anyone could be and always insisted that we kneel in prayer with the families. He was a marvelous human being who taught me—a young teacher—how to be a home teacher.

A Jaredite farmer brings a curelom, a rabbit, and a bag of curelom feed to a river. He’s in a real pickle! The raft is only big enough for him to bring one thing across at a time. He can’t leave the curelom alone with the feed, because then the feed would vanish.
Also, as any Jaredite knows, cureloms are deathly afraid of rabbits (at least, they could be). So he can’t leave those two alone together or the curelom would run away. Luckily, rabbits think curelom feed is gross, so those two can be left alone, no problem.
How does he carry all three across the river? (Answer below).

Our crafty Jaredite farmer must carry the curelom across the river more than once. First trip, the curelom. Next, the rabbit. Then he leaves the rabbit on the far bank and brings back the curelom. Now he takes the feed across, leaving the curelom behind. Then the rabbit and feed are on the far side and he simply goes back for the curelom.

We just got our November New Era, and I especially enjoyed “If This Happened Tomorrow—What Would You Do” concerning bad language. My husband is in the U.S. Army, and friends often visit him and use this kind of language in our home. At first I was afraid to say anything to them for fear of offending them, but I think I have found a solution. I made a little box, and everyone who curses in my home has to put a nickel in it. Everyone’s name is on the box, and each time someone slips he gets a mark by his name. At first it was just a joke, but now if one of them sees that he is way ahead of the others, he sure watches his language. The money we get is given to the bishop to be used for a good cause. Perhaps this system could help another family or individual too.
Monika HiettDarmstadt, Germany

When I was nine years old, I became an altar boy. Altar boys in the Catholic Church help the priest during the Sunday worship service, called Mass. My brothers and many of my friends served with me—a great honor for us. We lit candles at the altar, carefully unfolded the priest’s robes, and placed the scriptures next to the altar. During the service we helped pass the bread for Communion, similar to the sacrament.
To become altar boys, we memorized words of the Mass in Latin. We also participated in weekly religion classes. Each summer my friends and brothers and sisters and I attended Bible school about 20 miles (32 km) from our home. My parents were busy on our wheat farm during the summer. They could have used our help during those weeks, but they felt it was important that we have this opportunity to learn about God and be with good friends. The faith of the priests and nuns who were our teachers impressed me. I decided then that I would do what God wanted me to do.

“Millicent’s escaped!” “The elephant is loose!” The cries filled the circus grounds.
Freddie peered anxiously out of the red and gold trailer where he lived. He saw Randolph, the roustabout, running past. A thick coil of rope hung over his shoulder. “Millicent pulled her stake out of the ground!” the tall young man explained as he stopped to talk to Freddie. “Our customers are going to be unhappy if they can’t see the sideshow, and she’s blocking the entrance. I’m going to tie this rope around her and try to lead her back to the field where she belongs.”
“That won’t work,” Freddie said, earnestly, “but I know how to make Millicent move.”
Randolph chuckled. “You? Why, you’re the smallest boy in the circus. How can you move an elephant?” And he hurried on.
Freddie just smiled and scampered off toward the sideshow. Before long he came upon Chester, the oldest and wisest clown in the circus. He was wearing knobby shoes and was pushing a big black cannon ahead of him. At his side trotted Phil, his fluffy pink poodle.
“Millicent’s loose!” shouted Chester. “I’m on my way to fire my cannon. When she hears the explosion, she’ll move out of the way! Come along and watch.”
“I don’t think that’ll work,” said Freddie, walking alongside the clown. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
Chester stopped. “You? You can’t make that pesky pachyderm move an inch. You can’t even make Phil roll over, so how do you intend to make an elephant move?” Chester asked as he hurried away without waiting for a reply.
Freddie just smiled.
Shortly, Freddie came upon a great crowd of circus performers—jugglers, fire-eaters, and lovely bareback riders. They were all talking about the elephant that wouldn’t move.
Alonzo, the lion tamer, boasted, “I’m going to wave my chair and crack my whip in front of Millicent. That’ll make that stubborn elephant move!”
“I don’t think it’ll work,” said Freddie solemnly. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
“You?” The lion tamer snorted. “You know nothing about handling wild animals. How could you move that blissful behemoth!”
Freddie simply smiled again.
“Everybody stand back, please,” said Mr. Bertelli, the circus owner.
Freddie watched Randolph loop his thick rope around the great elephant. She towered above them, and her legs were thick as tree trunks.
Randolph pulled and pulled. His muscles bulged, and glistening perspiration streamed down his face. The fire-eater and the juggler joined the roustabout and, with stern faces, tugged on the rope. Still, the elephant refused to move.
“That’s the most immovable mastodon I’ve ever encountered,” Randolph declared disgustedly. “I think Millicent has taken root.” He gathered up his rope and walked away.
Freddie approached Mr. Bertelli. “Please, sir, I can make Millicent move,” he said.
“Stay out of the way, Freddie,” Mr. Bertelli replied, but not unkindly. “This is a job for men.”
Next, Chester touched a flame to the touchhole of his cannon. Freddie put his fingers in his ears and shut his eyes tightly. There was a moment of silence and then a loud BOOOOOOM! The sawdust-filled circus grounds shook with the sound. Freddie opened his eyes. Millicent heard that sound twice a day while Chester was performing. Cool as custard, she stood where she was.
“She must be going deaf,” Chester said disgustedly. The clown flop-flopped away, sadly wheeling his cannon.
Freddie tugged at Mr. Bertelli’s sleeve. “I can make Millicent move,” he insisted.
“If Randolph and Chester couldn’t do it, how could you?” asked the circus owner, patting Freddie on the shoulder.
It was Alonzo’s turn to try. The lion tamer twisted the ends of his long moustache and waggled his chair under Millicent’s trunk. His long black whip snapped an earsplitting KER-WHACK! Millicent blinked her little round eyes. She softly wrapped her trunk around the chair, set it to one side, and picked up Alonzo. The lion tamer helplessly waved his legs in the air. Abruptly, Millicent dropped him into the chair and, with a great snort, mussed his carefully combed hair.
“That stupid elephant! She doesn’t have any respect for me. Me! The finest lion tamer in the world!” Alonzo stalked off.
After that it was plain to see nobody else had an idea how to make Millicent move. A crowd was beginning to line up at the entrance. If Millicent didn’t get out of the way, no one could get by to see the sideshow!
Freddie strode confidently up to the peanut vendor. “One bag, please,” he said.
The boy took his sack of peanuts and approached the towering elephant. Freddie placed a peanut on the ground in front of Millicent. The elephant slowly lowered her long gray trunk and picked it up. She curled it gently into her mouth and stared at Freddie.
Freddie dropped another peanut a few feet away. The elephant took one large step and picked it up. The circus folk cheered! Millicent was moving!
Freddie backed his way toward the grassy field, dropping peanuts as he went. The big elephant followed, eating every peanut in her path!
Before long, Millicent had followed the trail of peanuts and had joined the other elephants in the meadow. She was back where she belonged!
“Hooray for Freddie!” proclaimed Chester. “He really did know how to make Millicent move!”
And from that day on, Freddie’s circus friends asked him questions about all sorts of things. When Freddie said he knew the answer, they all believed him.

Clancy O’Clagen was stacking wood in Mrs. O’Reilley’s woodshed. As he neatly piled the sticks, he was thinking of what his wife had said that morning. “It’s a fine thing to be helping Widow O’Reilley, Clancy,” she had said, “but while you’re setting her woodshed to rights your own is a sorry sight, what with kindling laying every which way. But if she pays you well for the work, I’ll be doing no more complaining.”
Clancy straightened up to rest his back and glanced around the gloomy shed. Suddenly he spied a shimmering of metal up high in a cobwebby corner. He moved nearer to see what the glimmer of light might be.
“Sure, and that’s an old Irish griddle, if ever I saw one!” he exclaimed. “But it’s rusted and grimy and in need of a good scrubbing. Now I wonder if I could lift it from the peg.”
Clancy stood on the tips of his toes and grunted and stretched and lifted. Then with a pull that nearly set him back on his heels, the griddle came off. Just as Clancy was slapping some of the webs from the griddle, Mrs. O’Reilley came in.
“So you’re interested in that old thing, I see now,” she said. “That’s been hanging there for many a year, and not much good it is to anyone. ’Tis one that came from the old sod country, it is. But only burned cakes is all it ever would bake, and who’d be wanting burned cakes now?”
Clancy’s eyes sparkled. “Sure, and I’d be glad to take the thing as pay for my work. Somehow I’ve got a fancy for it, seeing as how it came from Ireland.”
Mrs. O’Reilley threw up her hands. “Then pay it is!” she said. “But with that kind of pay, I can’t help feeling I’ll be cheating you for sure.”
Clancy finished his work in the woodshed and then, with a gay whistle on his lips and the griddle tucked under his arm, he went home.
But there was no gay whistling when Clancy’s wife saw the griddle and no money.
“Clancy O’Clagen!” she cried, “have you taken leave of your wits now? A grubby old griddle you bring home instead of money! And you with no good hat to wear on a Sunday and needing the same!”
“But no money could buy a griddle like this, and from Ireland too!” said Clancy. “Old hats shade heads as well as new.”
While his wife grumbled, Clancy went to work on the griddle. He scraped it, he scoured it, he brushed it. He rubbed and he scrubbed and he polished, and after a time part of the dullness was gone from the surface and bits of shining metal winked through.
“Potato pancakes!” said Clancy. “Good old Irish potatoes made into pancakes on an Irish griddle! Doesn’t that sound good? Would you be making some fine Irish potato pancakes, now, my good wife?”
Clancy watched his wife stir the pancakes. He watched while she ladled them out onto the hot griddle. He watched while their edges turned brown. And then, with his lips twitching in anticipation of a delightful mouthful, he saw the pancakes all at once turn black, burned to a crisp.
Time after time Clancy’s wife tried the griddle. But every time she did, it only burned whatever was on it. “A waster of good food and good time it is!” she cried. “I’ll be having no more to do with it!”
Then Clancy tried the griddle. He mixed pancake batter, spread it in little rounds on the hot surface, and watched the dough bubble. But just when he thought the cakes were baking well, they suddenly began to rise and went up and up. Like little round towers, the bubbling dough rose above the griddle—a foot or two high. Then, while Clancy watched open-mouthed, the cakes turned to cinders and crumbled away.
After that, Clancy’s wife turned the griddle upside down and used it to cover her churn of sour cream. But even as a cover it didn’t work well, for often in the mornings the griddle would be off on the floor and the cream would be sloshed about.
“Now you see what kind of a bargain you made, Clancy O’Clagen!” his wife said stomping her foot. “’Tis no good for baking. ’Tis no good for covering. A dirt-catcher and an eyesore is all it is. I’ll not be having it around any longer. If you’re bound and determined to keep the old thing, you’ll be keeping it outside and that’s a fact!”
Clancy picked up the griddle and marched outside. “’Tis no way at all to be treating a fine Irish griddle,” he muttered. “Using it for a cover for sour cream! It’s shame that I feel when I think of it, and this from the green land of Ireland, too, and maybe made with metal that’s been touched by the Little People’s own hands! Could be that houses are an irritation to the likes of it. Could be that a fire in a woodsy spot is what the griddle is needing!”
A sparkle leaped into Clancy’s eyes. He went back into the house, packed things for pancake batter, put two plates, two knives, two forks, a jar of butter, and a jug of syrup into a box, and then he took the griddle and went off whistling to find his young friend Denny O’Day.
“We’re going to make pancakes in the woods, Denny, my lad!” he said. “Pancakes on an Irish griddle!”
Denny loved to go into the woods with Clancy, but this time he kept looking to the right and to the left, and sometimes he even turned around and looked behind. “I’ve got a feeling that there are eyes looking at us,” said Denny. “And now and again I’m hearing the crackling of twigs. Do you think there might be something about, Clancy O’Clagen?”
“Sure, and what if there is? ’Tis nothing to do with us at all,” answered Clancy.
Beside a little spring Clancy made a fireplace. He put rocks about in a neat little ring. He scraped away the grass and built a fire that soon burned down to rosy coals. Then Clancy mixed the pancake batter until it was as smooth as liquid velvet. He whistled awhile, and every now and again he stopped to jig a little. When the griddle was sizzling hot Clancy poured the batter on it.
He stepped back and stared in amazement. For though he had meant to make round pancakes, the batter spread out by itself into dainty shamrock shapes—three rounds together and a little tail for a stem! And the pancakes didn’t burn. They browned gently on one side and, just as Clancy was about to give them a turn, over they flipped by themselves, or so it seemed.
“Hurray!” cried Clancy. “Sure, and I knew this was a griddle to be proud of!”
He heaped the pancakes on Denny’s plate. And when the boy had eaten all he could hold, Clancy said, “Run home now, Denny, my lad, and tell my good wife to come quickly! She’ll never be believing the same! Not till she sees it with her own eyes! Off with you now!”
Denny started off and Clancy made more pancakes for himself. But he was almost too delighted to eat. “I’ll just be making one more big one for myself,” he said, “and then I’ll sit back and wait for my wife.”
With an extra flourish Clancy poured batter onto the griddle. He poured until it was almost covered. Then he watched to see the shamrock take shape. But this time there wasn’t a shamrock.
The pancake spread and spread. It bubbled and bubbled, and then it turned itself over. But before the pancake was completely turned, a great zinging as of ten thousand hornets filled the air. The pancake flew high. The griddle rose and a huge puff of green smoke sent it spinning and sailing off over the woods.
In another moment the big pancake came flapping downward. It flopped on Clancy’s head and knocked him to the ground.
When Clancy sat up all was still, and he reached up his hands to push the pancake from his eyes. But instead of a pancake his hands pushed up a slightly warm, high plush hat of emerald green. From the bushes impish laughter and deep chuckles reached Clancy’s ears.
When Clancy walked into his own house his wife was busy knitting. Without looking up she said, “Clancy, how could you tell such yarns to Denny O’Day? I sent the lad off to nap after the way you’d filled his head with nonsense.”
Before Clancy could answer she looked up. Then she threw up her hands in surprise.
“CLANCY O’CLAGEN! Where did you get that elegant hat?”
Clancy pulled his ear thoughtfully for a moment and then he smiled. “Sure ’tis true,” he said. “In a manner of speaking, you might say I traded it for Mrs. O’Reilley’s Irish griddle! And that’s a fact!”

One day, my mission president called me to be one of the assistants for the Ghana Accra Mission. This calling gives me a lot of opportunities to speak in large group settings. Because of being in the office, I was able to meet the new missionaries coming from the MTC. A lot of them do not speak English, only French. One day, after my portion of a training, my mission president asked me to give a small training in French and mentioned that I should tell them where I came from. They could not believe that I was from the DR Congo. I was able to encourage and strengthen them, telling them that they should trust in the Lord and believe in the gift of tongues, that it is REAL!

When Israel and Elizabeth Haven Barlow left Nauvoo, Illinois, for the Salt Lake Valley in 1848, they left behind a baby boy buried in a small Nauvoo cemetery. Little James Nathaniel Barlow, their first child, had died shortly after birth in May 1841.
With their departure for the Salt Lake Valley, Israel and Elizabeth likely never expected to gaze again upon their son’s grave. But when Israel was called on a mission to England a few years later, he passed through Nauvoo as he traveled east. At Elizabeth’s request, he stopped to locate their son’s grave and move his remains to the main cemetery, east of town.
After a day of fruitless searching, Israel sought help from the local caretaker. The next day, they found the grave, located next to James’s cousin Mary. Tragically, the coffins were decayed and broken. In a letter to his wife, Israel wrote, “I therefore turned away and concluded that I would leave them there till the future.”
He had not walked far from the grave when he heard a voice. Recalling the experience, he wrote, “It was not audible, but so distinct to my mind that I could not gainsay it: ‘Daddy, do not leave me here.’” Israel returned to the grave, concluding to remove his little boy after all. “I felt a very peculiar calm and peace of mind which before I did not feel. … This much I will say: that I never was more conscious of any duty done in my life.”
On September 2, 1853, Israel Barlow and the caretaker moved the bodies of James and Mary to Nauvoo’s main cemetery, marking the place with “stones at the head and foot of the graves.”
Israel told Elizabeth that as he lingered at the graveside, “I felt a desire to dedicate myself and all that I might call mine into the hands of the Lord, that I might be counted worthy to come forth with [James] in the morning of the First Resurrection.”
After Israel Barlow bade one last farewell to his little boy, he wrote to his wife, “The thoughts of absenting myself far away, never more in life to return to [James’s] grave, wrung the last thread of affection I bore till it was broken with tears on his grave.”
I imagine that more tears—tears of joy this time—were shed on December 4, 1889. On that day, little James Nathaniel Barlow was sealed to his parents in the Logan Utah Temple. By then, Israel had passed away, so others stood as proxy for him and James.

The COVID-19 pandemic has drastically changed the way we live our daily lives. The virus has disrupted all sectors of society and its impact has also been felt in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Missionary service is one of the areas that has been significantly affected. On March 12, 2020, the leadership of the Church issued a statement requiring all senior missionaries and young missionaries with serious or chronic medical conditions serving in twenty-two areas in Europe to return home. Elder Michael Coley was among the many missionaries who had to leave.
Elder Coley had been called to labour in the England London Mission on August 6, 2019. It had been anticipated that he would serve for two years. Elder Coley was often told that his mission would be over before he knew it and that he should treasure every moment. However, he never imagined it would be over that soon.
He began his life-changing missionary journey on January 8, 2020, trying to embody Christlike attributes as he prepared to serve the people of England. He experienced much personal growth and greater generosity and humanity towards those he met.
Elder Coley could not fathom leaving his mission at that specific time just when he was forgetting himself and doing the Lord’s work. At the time, he dreaded going back into the world and being exposed once again to all the vileness of it. Elder Coley confided that when he expressed this to his missionary companion, he was told that the only person that can control how much of the world he indulges in is him. For Elder Coley that is a message that he would never forget.
On March 16, he departed London’s Heathrow Airport and began the long journey back to Jamaica. The journey home was stressful to him, especially due to the different avenues of travel he had to endure. The original travel plan included a flight from the United Kingdom to the United States and then to Jamaica. However, the United States had closed its borders to noncitizens. As a result, Elder Coley travelled to Mexico, then to the Dominican Republic followed by Turks and Caicos. On March 17, he finally arrived in Jamaica.
Even though he knew that he would be quarantined for 14 days, it was a relief to be home. This experience taught Elder Coley to be more optimistic and to trust Heavenly Father more. He came to realise that when we do the Lord’s work to the best of our ability, He helps tremendously.
When asked to share his thoughts on what has been happening in the world, Elder Coley said, “In these difficult time,s the only person that can control how this pandemic is viewed is you. You can either let this difficult time strengthen your testimony in God or weaken it. Let us enjoy each moment here on earth doing the Lord’s work and being with our families. We do not know fully what the Lord has planned for each of us. I know however, that God loves His children and enables them to go through experiences to learn from them and to evolve into better versions of themselves.”
This message of hope and steadfastness is one which Elder Coley wishes that everyone will be able to embrace during this time of uncertainty and turmoil.

It was one of those rare Sunday mornings when, for a very special reason, I happened to be at home in my own ward. We sat on the last row, and our only son, a tall, fine young man, walked, at the invitation of the bishop, up the aisle and stood by the pulpit. The bishop spoke about my son and presented him to the congregation for their sustaining vote to his advancement in the Aaronic Priesthood. We all voted, and later I had the great privilege, at the invitation of the bishop, to ordain my son. Later, at lunch, he was telling his sisters about the events of that morning. He said it was kind of scary walking up that aisle and standing up before the congregation all alone with the bishop. But he said, “When they voted, I looked down and saw Dad’s hand higher than all the rest, and I felt all right.” And he was right. I had hoisted my hand just as high as I could get it. He is my son, you see—and that is how I feel about him. The relationship between fathers and sons is a very special one.

By Kyle S., Texas, USA
Photograph © iStock/Thinkstock
My parents and I listened to Elder Bednar in the October 2011 general conference when he said that working on family history would give us protection against the adversary. We started working on our family history then. I keep learning and growing from family history; it’s really fun.
I like finding out about where I’m from and about my ancestors. I learn from their experiences and use them in my life to help me be a better person. It’s amazing to discover who they were, what they did for a living, what life was like, and how hard it was for them.
For example, I enjoyed learning about one of my ancestors who moved with his family from Tennessee to Texas, USA, in the 1870s to be a cattle rancher. He faced many challenges in his life, and from him I learned that life can be hard, so it’s important to stand up for what you believe.
When I have challenges in my life, working on family history makes me feel like my ancestors are always with me and will help me through hard trials, just as Elder Bednar promised us.

He was 16 when he first caught the vision of the gospel of Jesus Christ. From that time on, Daniel Choc’s main goal was to be engaged in the service of his fellowmen. This desire was fulfilled only months later when he was called to serve as a part-time missionary. He was later called as the first full-time Cachiquel missionary in Guatemala. And finally, on March 29, 1976, his earthly mission came to an end.
At the time the gospel opened his mind, Daniel had received only three years of schooling. He was needed at home to take care of the family cow. His father, Pablo, now branch president at Patzicia, didn’t have a pasture, so the cow had to be grazed along the sides of the roads. Until he was 16, it appeared that Daniel would join the countless other Indians of Central America who had little or no employable skills. Fortunately, he and his sister Carmela, then 14, were invited to spend two years in Paradise Valley at the Foundation for Indian Development, a laboratory farm school directed by Brother Cordell Andersen.
Although a member of the Church, Daniel had never had an opportunity to give a speech, bear his testimony, be advanced in the priesthood, or have a calling or position.
At Paradise Valley, Daniel responded to Church opportunities and to educational experiences. He was almost immediately advanced in the priesthood and was called to be Sunday School president. He also took the lead in directing family home evenings for one of the family groups of the school. He then confided to Brother Andersen that in spite of the Cachiquel reputation as a family-oriented people, they weren’t happy in their homes and families. He determined he would be the stimulus to change this upon his return to Patzicia.
Daniel quickly learned the various agricultural and health care skills taught at the laboratory school and soon became a tractor instructor. In September 1971, he was called to be a local missionary to the Pokomchi Indians. During his 16-month mission he and a companion taught and baptized 26 Pokomchis.
Brother Andersen wrote, “Our family thrilled as we witnessed his first speech in church and his first spoken testimony. Progress was rapid for this humble Indian boy who responded eagerly to the previously undreamed of opportunities to improve himself and learn to help his people. He worked hard, played hard, and in his quiet way influenced a whole community of Pokomchi Indians for good.”
After completing two years of training at the school, he returned to his hometown. The branch members there were amazed at his growth. In a later discussion with Brother Andersen, he outlined a plan, which has since been used for creating the first all-Indian cooperative in Guatemala, the Center for Indian Development. Daniel was keeping a personal promise to do what he could to benefit his people and help them break the cycle of poverty.
Shortly after returning home he was called as the first full-time, LDS, Cachiquel Indian missionary. On February 4, 1976, an earthquake devastated the country. He lost his mother and two brothers in the disaster.
Elder Choc did not abandon his mission, but like other missionaries, he spent his preparation days helping to rebuild the damaged areas. He and several other missionaries were on such a project on March 29, 1976, at Patzun when a wall toppled, crushing him. Elder Choc was rushed to a nearby field hospital, but he was already dead.
He was taken home where a makeshift roof was constructed on the site where his home had once stood. Curtains from the destroyed chapel were used for shade as members, neighbors, and missionaries gathered to pay tribute to Elder Choc.
Two former companions spoke at the funeral. “He was my junior companion, but he taught me so much that I always knew that he was the leader,” one of them commented.
Many will remember Daniel Choc because he was the first of his people to serve on a full-time mission. Others will remember him because he gave his life while in the service of his fellowmen.

President Camille N. Johnson visits with a mother of three children at a food donation event in Costa Rica. “She was so grateful for a meal for her hungry children,” says President Johnson. “I told her I loved her and, more importantly, that God loved her.”

When I (President Johnson) traveled to Costa Rica last year, I had the opportunity to help with a food donation event. I was touched to meet many women and children who came to receive a healthy meal. I had the distinct impression that we were doing just what the Savior would have us do. I met Yumana and her three beautiful children. This sincere woman was selling ribbon roses she had crafted in order to provide for her family. She was so grateful for a meal for her hungry children. I told her I loved her and, more importantly, that God loved her. Yumana received temporal relief and spiritual relief as she felt and acknowledged the love of God.

Service has taken on a special meaning to the girls in the Copenhagen Denmark Stake. The Young Women were asked to help an LDS family in Poland. They gladly responded and began organizing the first parcel of hard-to-get items to send to the Polish family of four. They sent such items as soap, toothpaste, flour, razor blades, vitamins, and shoes. The parcel was received so gratefully that the girls decided to gather more badly needed items and have them personally delivered by a family in their ward who offered to spend their vacation making the trip into Poland.
The family was able to deliver the items gathered by the girls to the Polish couple and their two sons, who were grateful to have contact with Church members. They were also able to bring the news that a temple is to be built in East Germany.
The Young Women of the Copenhagen First Ward also filled sharing socks made by some California Young Women. These socks, filled by the Copenhagen girls with candy and small gifts, were given to children in Poland.
News of their successful service project has spread, and four other Copenhagen wards have also adopted Polish families. The girls hold work projects to earn money to pay for the postage on the packages they mail to Poland.

Devastating earthquakes and tsunamis have recently occurred in diverse places, including Chile, Haiti, and the islands of the Pacific. A few weeks ago Presiding Bishop H. David Burton, Elder Tad R. Callister, and I were able to meet with the Saints who had lost family members as a result of the tsunami that hit the eastern side of Samoa last September. The chapel was full, and it was an emotional meeting. We were able to assure these choice members that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, they can be reunited with the loved ones they have lost.

The stake president, Sonny Purcell, was driving his car when he saw the enormous wave coming far out at sea. He honked his horn and stopped children on the road walking to school and warned them to run for higher ground and safety as fast as they could. The children followed his instruction. He frantically drove, reached his four-year-old daughter, put her in the car, and then tried to get to his mother. Before he could reach his mother, the wall of water picked up his car and swept it over 100 yards (91 m), where it lodged in a tree. He scrambled to secure his daughter on top of the car and then swam to rescue his mother, who was clinging to a branch of another tree near their house. With great effort he swam with her to the car and safety. Many were not as fortunate. They did not have time to get to higher ground and safety. Many lost their lives, particularly the young and the elderly.

We told the Samoan families that members all over the world expressed love and concern and had prayed for them and contributed fast offerings and humanitarian aid for both the members and their neighbors. The same is true for the members and their neighbors in Chile and Haiti. We do this because we follow Jesus Christ.

As we met with the families in Samoa, the significance of spiritually going to the higher ground, living a better life, and clinging to saving ordinances was abundantly clear. The Savior’s example and life teach us to spiritually avoid the low pathway, where the things of this world dominate. As I shook hands with the members after our meeting, one sister told me her family had not been to the temple and they had lost a daughter. She tearfully said their goal now was to prepare themselves for the sacred ordinances of the temple so they can be together eternally.
As I have pondered what this sister said and the current condition of the world, I have felt an urgency to counsel each of us to seek the higher ground—the refuge and eternal protection of the temple.