Gospel Story Finder

But did you ever stop to think that some of the smaller undomesticated creatures of the earth may be equally anxious to get home again? And because of their very smallness, their journeys may be very arduous ones. An experiment conducted by Martin Thornhill of England with a common toad is a case in point. First, Thornhill took the toad from its favorite lily pad at the side of his garden pool and placed it in a hedge about fifty yards away. Shortly afterward the toad was back on its lily pad. He then carried the toad one-fourth mile to a friend’s garden. Within a week it had returned. Marking it with a harmless red paint spot, he transported it a mile distant. In less than ten days the toad had returned. His last experiment was to deposit it by a stream three miles away. The persistent amphibian doggedly hopped across country and through town to settle itself many days later on its favorite lily pad.

I often looked at the picture of the Oakland Temple hanging from the wall in my room, mostly because I loved to lie on my bed and dream of going there someday with my future companion.
My fiancé had already been through the temple before his mission. Now he and I were preparing to go through together a few days before our wedding.
I know the temple is a holy place, and only worthy members holding temple recommends can enter. I had made an appointment to see my bishop and would also have to see the stake president for a temple interview. I realized, however, that there’s more to an interview than just making the appointment and answering the questions. I had to be prepared and feel worthy. I wanted to be able to tell my bishop and stake president that without a doubt I felt worthy to attend the temple.
How does one go about getting a feeling of worthiness? I felt like I had been living a good life, and I was striving to keep the commandments and follow the counsel of my Church leaders. But I had to be sure I was forgiven of my sins and could therefore worthily enter the temple. In contemplating all these things I decided to set aside a day for fasting and prayer.
At my parents’ farm there are many places for privacy where I could fast and pray undisturbed. I chose a spot on the root cellar, shaded by a large pepper tree, where I would go to my Heavenly Father in study and prayer. I began my fast on Monday. Early Tuesday morning, with scriptures in hand, I went to the tree. I looked forward to some moments of quiet prayer, gospel study, and meditation as I sought an answer from my Father in Heaven. I began reading, and as I did, I would often stop to pray. I felt the Spirit very strongly a few times, but I had not yet approached Heavenly Father with my question of worthiness. I decided to get off the cellar and kneel on the ground.
The sun was coming up and the rays were filtering through the rows of crops. It was beautiful. The light seemed to warm my soul, and I felt the Spirit very strongly. Suddenly, the good feelings went away and I felt confused. I knew I had felt the Spirit, but I had not yet received an answer to my question: Am I worthy to attend the temple? I felt that I was, but I had to be sure.
I continued to pray, but that strong spiritual feeling I had before didn’t come again. I wanted to go back to the house, but I knew I couldn’t leave until I felt good. I decided to continue reading my scriptures. I turned to Doctrine and Covenants 50:34 [D&C 50:34], which says, “He that receiveth of God, let him account it of God; and let him rejoice that he is accounted of God worthy to receive.”
A beautiful and joyful feeling came over me, for I knew I had felt the Spirit, and in that verse it said that if you receive of God, rejoice that you are worthy to receive it! I felt so good as the tears streamed down my face. Finally, I knew I could answer before my Church leaders. But more important, I knew I could answer before my God that I was indeed worthy to enter into his holy house.

Early in our married life my young family and I were laboring through graduate school at a university in New England. [My wife] Pat was the Relief Society president in our ward, and I was serving in our stake presidency. I was going to school full-time and teaching half-time. We had two small children then, with little money and lots of pressures. In fact, our life was about like yours.

One evening I came home from long hours at school, feeling the proverbial weight of the world on my shoulders. Everything seemed to be especially demanding and discouraging and dark. I wondered if the dawn would ever come. Then, as I walked into our small student apartment, there was an unusual silence in the room.

“What’s the trouble?” I asked.

“Matthew has something he wants to tell you,” Pat said.

“Matt, what do you have to tell me?” He was quietly playing with his toys in the corner of the room, trying very hard not to hear me. “Matt,” I said a little louder, “do you have something to tell me?”

He stopped playing, but for a moment didn’t look up. Then these two enormous, tear-filled brown eyes turned toward me, and with the pain only a five-year-old can know, he said, “I didn’t mind Mommy tonight, and I spoke back to her.” With that he burst into tears, and his entire little body shook with grief. A childish indiscretion had been noted, a painful confession had been offered, the growth of a five-year-old was continuing, and loving reconciliation could have been wonderfully underway.

Everything might have been just terrific—except for me. I am ashamed beyond expression to tell you how I then acted. I lost my temper. It wasn’t that I lost it with Matt—it was with a hundred and one other things on my mind; but he didn’t know that, and I wasn’t disciplined enough to admit it. He got the whole load of bricks.

I told him how disappointed I was and how much more I thought I could have expected from him. … Then I did what I had never done before in his life—I told him that he was to go straight to bed and that I would not be in to say his prayers with him or to tell him a bedtime story. Muffling his sobs, he obediently went to his bedside, where he knelt—alone—to say his prayers. Then he stained his little pillow with tears his father should have been wiping away.

If you think the silence upon my arrival was heavy, you should have felt it now. Pat did not say a word. She didn’t have to. I felt terrible!

Later, as we knelt by our own bed, my feeble prayer asking for blessings upon my family fell back on my ears with a horrible, hollow ring. I wanted to get up off my knees right then and go to Matt and ask his forgiveness, but he was long since peacefully asleep.

My relief was not so soon coming; but finally I fell asleep and began to dream, which I seldom do. I dreamed Matt and I were packing two cars for a move. For some reason his mother and baby sister were not present. As we finished I turned to him and said, “OK, Matt, you drive one car and I’ll drive the other.”

This five-year-old very obediently crawled up on the seat and tried to grasp the massive steering wheel. I walked over to the other car and started the motor. As I began to pull away, I looked to see how my son was doing. He was trying—oh, how he was trying. He tried to reach the pedals, but he couldn’t. He was also turning knobs and pushing buttons, trying to start the motor. He could scarcely be seen over the dashboard, but there staring out at me again were those same immense, tear-filled, beautiful brown eyes. As I pulled away, he cried out, “Daddy, don’t leave me. I don’t know how to do it. I am too little.” And I drove away.

A short time later in my dream, I realized in one stark, horrifying moment what I had done. I slammed my car to a stop, threw open the door, and started to run as fast as I could. I left car, keys, belongings, and all—and I ran. The pavement was so hot it burned my feet, and tears blinded my straining effort to see this child somewhere on the horizon. I kept running, praying, pleading to be forgiven and to find my boy safe and secure.

As I rounded a curve nearly ready to drop from physical and emotional exhaustion, I saw the unfamiliar car I had left Matt to drive. It was pulled carefully off to the side of the road, and he was laughing and playing nearby. An older man was with him, playing and responding to his games. Matt saw me and cried out something like, “Hi, Dad. Come over. We’re having fun.” Obviously he had already forgiven and forgotten my terrible transgression against him.

But I dreaded the older man’s gaze, which followed my every move. I tried to say “Thank you,” but his eyes were filled with sorrow and disappointment. I muttered an awkward apology, and the stranger said simply, “You should not have left him alone to do this difficult thing. It would not have been asked of you.”

With that, the dream ended, and I shot upright in bed. My pillow was now soaked with perspiration and tears. I threw off the covers and ran to the little metal camp cot that was my son’s bed. There on my knees and through my tears, I cradled him in my arms and spoke to him while he slept. I told him that every dad makes mistakes but that they don’t mean to. I told him it wasn’t his fault I had had a bad day. I told him that when boys are 5 or 15, dads sometimes forget and think they are 50. I told him that I wanted him to be a small boy for a long, long time, because all too soon he would grow up and be a man and wouldn’t be playing on the floor with his toys when I came home. I told him that I loved him and his mother and his sister more than anything in the world and that whatever challenges we had in life, we would face them together. I told him that never again would I withhold my affection or my forgiveness from him, and never, I prayed, would he withhold them from me. I told him I was honored to be his father and that I would try with all my heart to be worthy of such a great responsibility.

Sister Paula Thomas of Sandy, Utah, discovered for herself that Heavenly Father does indeed speak to His children. She remembers:
“I was raised in a less-active home. Because of the influence of friends, I began attending Primary. When I was nine years old, my Primary teacher gave a lesson on personal prayer. I knew that I could pray at mealtimes and in meetings, but I had never thought of praying to Heavenly Father on my own.
“After the teacher dismissed our class, I approached her and asked her to teach me to pray. Kindly, she pulled out a piece of paper and began to write and talk at the same time. ‘You always begin by thanking Heavenly Father for all you have,’ she said, ‘and then you tell Him the desires of your heart. Is there something special you want to ask for, Paula?’
“I knew exactly what I wanted—I wanted to make my mother happy. I did not recall ever seeing her smile or laugh. Life was hard, and Mother cried often. I loved her so much that I would write poems, put on programs for her on Mother’s Day, and buy her gifts with my baby-sitting money. She was always grateful, but I knew her burdens were heavy.
“I left Primary that afternoon with those written instructions from my teacher. That night, when the house was quiet, I knelt at my bed and began my very first personal prayer. I prayed that I would be able to make my mother happy. I offered the same prayer every night for seven years.
“When I was 16, I received my patriarchal blessing from a patriarch whom I had never met. In my blessing he said: ‘Paula, the Lord has heard the prayers of your heart. A time will come in your life when you will be able to return with a deep feeling of love the gifts that have been so graciously given unto you by your mother. You will not only bring your mother happiness, you will give her the gift of joy.’
“As he was giving me the blessing, I received a powerful witness of God’s desire to communicate with us through personal revelation. Heavenly Father had heard my prayers, and He let me know he was aware of me.
“Years later, after my mother’s death, I went through the temple to receive sacred ordinances in her behalf. While there, I received an impression that I had truly given my mother the gift of joy—that day and on many other occasions.”

Vivian is a widow—rather tall with short brown hair and shining eyes. She usually sits quietly in meeting—a little shy about contributing her thoughts in a group of people. She had decided to begin her day by attending the temple and then doing some of the things she had always planned to do but had never seemed to get done. But her day didn’t go exactly as she had planned. She awoke with a terrible head cold, the first time in three and one-half years she had been ill. So she had to devise a new plan of action.
Many of her mother’s old papers were tucked away in a box in her home. She got the box out, and decided that she would spend a few hours putting together a scrapbook of her mother’s life. “I didn’t want to do it alone,” she said, “so I called my sister to tell her I was coming out. On the way I bought some plastic cover sheets.” Together she and her sister reconstructed their mother’s life story in picture and word. It took a lot longer than the few hours they had planned on spending, but the end result was a cherished scrapbook.
Her activities on that perfect day opened up new avenues to her. “My patriarchal blessing had said I would work on the genealogy of my family, but I didn’t understand genealogy, and just couldn’t get really interested in it,” she confessed. “After doing my mother’s book, however, I decided to do one for my husband. I enjoyed doing it. Now I have compiled a history of my husband, my son, and my daughter. By cleaning out all the old boxes of treasures, mementos, and souvenirs I have been storing for years I’ve found enough information to do the temple work for many of my ancestors. I can see my work is just beginning. And I’m happy.”
Her life has new purpose and she radiates happiness.

My name is Magnolia. I go to a ward where we speak Spanish. One day Mia came to my Primary class. She speaks only English. I wanted to help Mia feel welcome, so I decided to help her. I would be her interpreter!
An interpreter translates words that someone is speaking into a different language.
Keeping Up
At first it was hard to keep up when I was interpreting for Mia. Then the teachers slowed down to give me time. We all felt good that we could help Mia.
Lots in Common
We both just got baptized and confirmed. We both like music, especially hymns and Primary songs. We both like family home evening. And both of us like to read stories in the Liahona.
Whispered Help
My name is Mia. My parents speak Spanish, so we went to the Spanish-speaking ward. I couldn’t understand what people were saying. Magnolia saw that I was frustrated. She moved over next to me and whispered English in my ear.
Good Friends
After Primary, I asked Magnolia if she would be my friend. She said yes. From then on, Magnolia was my friend and my interpreter. She helped me make other friends too.

Sister Gayle Clegg of the Primary general presidency and her husband lived for a number of years in Brazil. Recently she had a Primary assignment in Japan. As she came into the chapel on Sunday, she noticed among the Japanese Saints a Brazilian family. “They just looked Brazilian,” she said. She only had a minute to greet them and found the mother and children very enthusiastic but noticed that the father was rather quiet. “I’ll have a chance to talk with them after the meeting,” she thought as she was quickly ushered to the stand. She delivered her message in English, which was translated into Japanese, and then she felt impressed to bear her testimony in Portuguese as well. She hesitated as there were no translators for Portuguese, and 98 percent of the people would not understand what she said.

After the meeting the Brazilian father came up to her and said, “Sister, the customs are so different here, and I have been lonely. It is difficult to come to church and not understand anything. Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off just reading my scriptures at home. I told my wife, ‘I’ll give it one more chance,’ and I came today for what I thought would be the last time. When you bore your testimony in Portuguese, the Spirit touched my heart, and I knew that this was where I belonged. God knows I am here, and He will help me.” And he joined the others in putting away the chairs.

Was it a coincidence that the only Portuguese-speaking member of the Primary presidency was sent to Japan instead of to Portugal? Or was it because the Lord knew someone there needed what only she could give—and she had the courage to follow a prompting of the Spirit? One of the great blessings of having a calling in the Church is that the Lord, through His Spirit, will inspire us to help those we are called to serve.

It was a celebration so special that I traveled more than six thousand kilometers to return to my Samoan village of Faletele.
The village was bustling with activity. Crowding in with the few hundred villagers were more than a hundred of my relatives from many parts of Samoa and many honored guests from other villages.
I started walking through the village, heading toward the big, domed roofed fale [house] when I saw my beloved cousin Sama. Suddenly I was filled with pride and sorrow and love as I remembered when we first came to know Sama—Sama the Thumb.
I was just five years old. Sama was ten. His parents had gone to New Zealand for the dedication of the temple, and Sama had come to stay with us.
I was watching the young men and boys play ball. A bus stopped on the road, and one of my aunts got out, followed by a boy who we learned was our cousin Sama. When they went to the Tuita’ua’s fale, I followed them.
Tuita’ua Ioane was the senior member and head of our family. Hundred of relatives—brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, aunts and uncles. Grandchildren and cousins—honored and obeyed him. Tuita’ua is one of the great titles in Samoa, and the Tuita’ua is respected by all Samoans.
In the days that followed, we enjoyed getting to know Sama with his stories and jokes and his sense of humor. We soon accepted him not only as a cousin but also as a good friend. When Sama was with us, whether we were working or playing, we laughed and had fun.
On Sunday morning I couldn’t find Sama. All day I asked the people of the village if they had seen him, but nobody knew where he was.
Finally, in the late afternoon, long after our church services and our afternoon meal were over Sama came walking through the village in his white shirt and white lavalava [native skirt or kilt]. Tuita’ua Ioane called him into the fale. “Where have you been, Sama?” he asked.
“In Fuapa’epa’e.”
“You walked the twelve kilometers to Fuapa’epa’e? And back?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Why?”
“Because that is the closest village where I can attend my church.”
Tuita’ua Ioane took off his wire-rimmed reading glasses and laid them on the Bible, which he’d been reading. “Sama, the village rule is that there will be only one church in Faletele and that all the people in Faletele will attend that church. Do you understand? You are part of my family, Sama, but you are also a guest in this village and you are under my protection. You know our rule.” He leaned forward and looked Sama in the eyes. “You do what you have to do.”
The following week none of the cousins mentioned Sama’s trip to Fuapa’epa’e. They continued to joke and laugh together as they worked and played together.
Trouble started on the second Sunday. I woke up to the sounds of arguing. Two of my cousins, Malini and Tofo, were chasing after Sama, who was dressed in his white shirt and lavalava.
“Sama, you know what the village rule is!” Tofo shouted.
Malini grabbed Sama’s arm. “How can you show such disrespect to Tuita’ua Ioane?”
Sama stood boldly in front of them. “Tuita’ua told me to do what I have to do. And this is what I have to do!”
As he started walking away again, Malini shouted after him, “Sama, don’t embarrass our family like this!”
At the end of the day when Sama came walking back into Faletele, some of the villagers made fun of Sama, calling him bad names. Some of them mocked him calling “Mamona” [Mormon] as he walked by. All the cousins were angry at Sama and wouldn’t talk to him—all of them, that is, except me. I had Sama all to myself the entire week. It was wonderful as we talked and sang and he told me stories.
“Maybe tomorrow you will remove our family shame and come with us to the village church,” Malini told Sama on Saturday night.
But on Sunday morning Sama was gone again. Next to each of our sleeping mats was a gift that Sama had made.
When Sama returned that evening, I ran out to greet him. He was eager to see the others, too, until he saw that his gifts had been broken and thrown away.
“The villagers made our cousins angry,” I explained. “But I kept my gifts. I like them very much. Thank you.”
Sama smiled at me, then went off my himself until it was time for the evening meal.
When he returned the cousins shouted, “You are a disgrace to our family!
“Find someplace else to sleep. You’re no longer welcome in the boys’ fale.”
They pushed Sama down, and raised their fists to hit Sama. “Because of you, our friends are calling us bad names!”
I was afraid that the cousins were going to hurt Sama, so I ran to get Tuita’ua Ioane. But he had heard the fight and had already come to the door of his fale. “You boys, stop it now!” He commanded. “All of you, come in here!”
At the sound of his voice, the boys immediately stopped. They walked meekly into the fale and sat down.
“Look at my hand!” Tuita’ua Ioane held out his hand. “See how these fingers are bunched here together? And how the thumb is out here all by itself?”
We all looked at his hand.
“We have a saying here in Samoa: ‘The thumb stands alone, but it is the strongest of the fingers.’”
Tuita’ua Ioane pointed at each of the cousins. “You boys are the fingers. But Sama is the thumb!”
Even though I was very young, I learned many things that night. Tuita’ua Ioane taught us about being true to yourself and valiant in your beliefs. His words and Sama’s example changed my life.
After thinking back to those days, I continued walking up the steps of the big fale and removed my shoes, as was the custom. Sama saw me immediately. And we hugged each other. Everyone was there for just one reason—to honor the Tuita’ua. Tuita’ua Sama.
But to me he would always be Sama the Thumb.

“How was school today?” Dad asked as he poured Eddy a glass of milk.
Eddy swallowed a bite of green beans and looked down at his plate. “It was OK.”
“Just OK?” Mom asked.
Eddy nodded. “Some kids laughed at me during reading time,” he said. “I don’t like reading in front of people.”
Some words were hard for Eddy to pronounce, so reading out loud always made him nervous, especially when other kids made fun of him.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said.
“Thanks, Dad. Can you pass the rice, please?”
Eddy knew Mom and Dad probably wanted to hear more about reading time, but he didn’t feel like talking about it. He was glad his big brother, Eric, had lots to say about his first day of soccer practice.
After dinner, Eddy stood up to go to his room.
“Wait,” Eric said. “We almost forgot to read scriptures!”
Eddy’s family had been trying hard to read the Book of Mormon. Reading right after dinner seemed to be the best time because everyone was together. But it was still hard remembering to read every day.
“We almost forgot again!” Mom said. “What can we do to help us remember?”
“Maybe we should pray about it,” Eddy said. “Heavenly Father can help us.”
“That’s a great idea!” Dad said. “Will you say the prayer?”
Eddy nodded and bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, please help us know how we can remember to read the scriptures.”
After the prayer, Eddy and his family talked about some ideas.
“What if we kept the Book of Mormon on the table where we could see it?” Eric asked.
“I like that idea,” Mom said.
“We could tape a reminder on it too,” Eddy said.
Dad smiled. “I’ll go get some tape.”
Eddy cut a strip of white tape and put it on the front of the Book of Mormon. Then he took a marker and wrote “Read!” across the tape.
“There,” he said. “Now we won’t forget.”
Every night, Eddy and his family saw the Book of Mormon on the table. And every night, they remembered to read. It was working!
Eddy liked reading the Book of Mormon. He especially liked the story of Nephi building a ship. Nephi’s brothers made fun of him, but that didn’t stop him. Nephi trusted God, and God helped him do hard things.
“Nephi’s my hero,” Eddy said after reading one night.
A few days later, it was reading time again at school. When it was Eddy’s turn, he heard some kids already starting to laugh. Instead of worrying about what they would say, Eddy took a deep breath and thought about Nephi. A peaceful feeling came into his heart as he said the first word.
When Eddy finished reading, he felt good. He still messed up a few times, but Eddy didn’t care. He knew he had done his best.
“How was reading time?” Mom asked at dinner.
“It was good,” Eddy said. “A few kids still laughed, but it didn’t bug me. I just thought about what we’re reading in the Book of Mormon, and it helped me a lot.”
Dad and Mom smiled.
“We’re so proud of you!” Dad said.
“Thanks!” Eddy said. After dinner, he reached across the table for the Book of Mormon. He couldn’t wait to read what happened next.

I remember just after I joined the Church, a great feeling of confidence came over me. I felt that since I had chosen the Lord’s side, he was on my side. Several remarkable things happened, of which I will recount but two.

Although I had never had the courage to stand on my feet and speak in debate, either at high school or college, I found myself asking my branch president if I might give a talk in sacrament meeting. I still have the notes of that very first talk. It was on faith and works.

A few months after my baptism, a golden opportunity presented itself at my place of work, where I was a management trainee. Again, I had that strong feeling of self-assurance, and I received my first promotion, which set my feet on the management ladder. I found that through my Church membership and the faith it engendered, I overcame the fear of taking responsibility.

What of marriage responsibility? Are there some who delay marriage for fear of the responsibility? When my wife and I were married, we had the magnificent sum of 20 English pounds between us. Although young, we felt ready for the challenges and responsibilities that we knew lay ahead. What a glorious experience it has been now for almost 40 years to shoulder responsibility and struggle together in building a happy home and a wonderful family of ten precious children.

From time to time I meet members of the Church who do not feel able to take responsibility as an officer or a teacher in the Church. I tell them of my experience in England. Literally within days of baptism, I was called to head the youth program in the Nottingham Branch. This was completely new to me, and I felt inadeqate, but I knew the Lord had need of me. There were less than 7,000 members in the whole of the British Isles where there are now 40 stakes. We all had to be “anxiously engaged” in the work of saving souls, building the kingdom, and establishing Zion. So it is with all of us. It is futile to fear responsibility when we have been called to serve “by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority” (A of F 1:5).

After I had the privilege of speaking with Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, I felt an even stronger desire to represent the Lord as a full-time missionary. Elder Scott rested his hands on my shoulders and said, “Be faithful to the Lord and keep His commandments, and He will inspire you!” This counsel gave me a great feeling of peace. I left my home in Mercedes, Argentina, on 24 March 1996 en route to the Argentina Resistencia Mission.
One day my companion and I did a lot of walking. All our appointments had fallen through, and this area had not had a baptism for nine months. But we were not discouraged—on the contrary, we had a great challenge before us!
As we walked, we both felt inspired to visit a lady we had met days before. When we got close to her house, we felt led to her neighbor’s home. Her neighbor very willingly listened to us, and we both felt the Spirit while we told her about God and Jesus Christ and the role of Joseph Smith.
After a while, I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon. When I did, she explained, “My father was killed a month ago. He was a member of your Church. Although he did not go to church very regularly, he loved the gospel.” Then, as if it were nothing, she added, “He appeared to me in a dream and told me someone would give me a book. He begged me not to reject it for anything because in it I would find the right way!” Then she continued, “Now I know you are the ones from my dream.” I was astonished, but I felt very encouraged to know that there is missionary work on both sides of the veil.
As I served my mission, I thought about the sweet look on the face of Elder Richard G. Scott as he told me, “Be faithful to the Lord and keep His commandments, and He will inspire you.” That’s just how it is.

I remember when I was a returned missionary, and having searched the scriptures diligently, I thought I knew it all. During our courtship, Blanquy and I would study the scriptures together. I used many of my notes and references to share my knowledge of the gospel with her. After we married I came to a serious realization as I learned a great lesson from her: I may have tried to teach her the gospel, but she taught me how to live it.

My companion, Sister Claritza Carmona, and I were tired, muddy, and downhearted after a day of uninterested people and nonprogressing investigators. The rain was falling lightly, and our spirits were as damp as the weather that April evening in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic.
I was looking forward to our visit with Elena Gonzalez and her family. Elena, a woman we were helping reactivate, had become a dear friend. As soon as we arrived at her home, however, a little girl from her neighborhood came to the door. “Someone wants to talk to you,” she told us.
Finally, someone who wants to hear the gospel! I thought happily. Elena said she didn’t mind if we went. In fact, she wanted to come along. So Sister Carmona, Elena, and I left with hopeful hearts. Yet something told me all was not right.
We entered a small home along the canal. One kerosene lamp illuminated the front room. Several women sat in rocking chairs; more stood around the perimeter of the room. Mercedes, one of our investigators, sat hunched over on a small chair.
My earlier impression was confirmed as a tall man, Gerónimo, insisted, “¡Siéntense!” (Sit down!) We took the two nearest chairs and exchanged a worried glance. Gerónimo, a local preacher, said that someone in the group—he pointed to Mercedes—had a question. He had arranged a “debate” to resolve the concern.
The topic was the Book of Mormon. Our assignment was to prove the Book of Mormon was true using evidence from the Bible, “the only word of God,” as Gerónimo put it. He required us to cite scriptures to support everything we said. Each of us would have three minutes to speak.
Sister Carmona and I felt like two small candles in an abyss of darkness. We were scared. I asked if we could start with a prayer. Gerónimo commanded everyone to stand and hold hands while he offered a prayer unlike any I had ever heard. While he shouted heavenward, I silently pleaded with Father in Heaven to guide our words.
James 1:5 flashed into my mind. I opened my Bible to this reference when I sat back down. The page was well worn from use, and I had memorized the verse months earlier. Closing the book, I turned my full attention to Mercedes.
I began slowly and quietly: “‘If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.’” I looked at Mercedes and said, “The Book of Mormon is true or it isn’t. God wants us to know the truth. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I know because I asked God, and He told me through His Holy Spirit that it’s true. Mercedes, if you want to know that it’s true, ask Heavenly Father. I promise you He will answer. And I say this to you in the name of Jesus Christ.”
There was not a sound in the room. All eyes were now on Sister Carmona. She bore testimony of the veracity of the Book of Mormon with such power and conviction the Spirit’s presence could not be denied.
Gerónimo broke the silence. He stood and preached for 20 minutes. The Spirit fled from the room, as did most of the listeners. Only Mercedes, Elena, Sister Carmona, and I remained. I finally interrupted him. We had said what the Lord wanted us to say. We excused ourselves, bidding him and Mercedes a good evening. He stood behind us shouting, “Don’t go! Don’t go!”
We returned to Elena’s house, where we quietly discussed what had just happened. We shared our testimonies of the gospel and our love for Jesus Christ.
The next day we visited Mercedes. She assured us she had known nothing of the previous night’s setup, but from the experience she had gained an earnest desire to know if the Book of Mormon is true. We knelt together as she offered a humble prayer. She remained on her knees for several minutes, silent, head bowed. When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes.
“How do you feel?” I finally asked.
“Bien,” she whispered. Yet something in her voice told me she felt more than just “good.”
“Is the Book of Mormon true?” I asked quietly.
She nodded her bowed head. That same Spirit that had guided two missionaries’ words the previous evening confirmed to this humble woman the truthfulness and power of the Book of Mormon.

Illustration by Allen Garns
One rainy day on my mission in Colombia, my companion and I had an hour left before we had to be home. We were hungry and tired from walking all day. We hadn’t found anyone to teach.
We also had no money with us, and we hadn’t gone grocery shopping. We knew we would get home and have nothing to eat. I tried to push away these negative thoughts and focus on the work.
“Look what I found!” My companion suddenly exclaimed.
She had found some money on the ground. From the expression on her face, I could tell she was thinking what I was. We could buy something to eat!
But after a moment, my companion said, “No, this money is not ours!”
“But I’m hungry!” I thought.
“Whoever it belongs to, we’re not going to find them at this time of night,” I told her.
She suggested that we pray. I knew that was right, but a part of me thought it was crazy. We had worked hard all day long. We were hungry. Maybe finding the money was a blessing for our service.
Then I remembered my mother. When I was young, she taught my sisters and me to always be honest. She was an example to us and prayed that we would have courage to be honest. I knew that if she were there, she would be sad if I did not make the right decision.
So we prayed. We asked Heavenly Father to help us find the owner. Several minutes later, a young man came along, searching for something. He had tears in his eyes and looked upset. My companion and I went up to him and found out that we had what he was looking for.
We returned his money to him, and he thanked us repeatedly. He said he needed it to pay for college. Without it, he would lose his enrollment. My eyes filled with tears, and I repented of my previous desires to spend the money. We got his contact information, and we were able to teach him and five other people. That night I thanked my companion for her good example.
I know that God blesses us when we are honest. We didn’t have anything to eat that night, but I do not remember going to bed hungry. Finding the money was a blessing, after all.

“Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw them standing by my locker in the ninth-grade hall. Was something wrong? Death, fire, disaster all flashed through my mind. I ran the last few steps toward them and breathlessly asked, “What’s up?”
“Hello, dear. We thought it would be nice if we came and had lunch with you today,” my mother said, smiling cheerfully as my dad nodded his agreement.
“What!” My anticipation quickly turned to a growing dread. “With all my friends? In the cafeteria and everything?” I stammered as my face flamed at the thought of the entire ninth grade watching my parents and me dine on the daily special of meatballs and macaroni. How horrible!
Despite my embarrassment, lunch in the cafeteria with my parents was fun. By the end of the hour, I felt a sense of pride as I listened to my friends and my parents discussing the big game coming up that weekend and our hard classes.
“We love you and thanks for letting us come,” Mom said, hugging me.
“We are very proud of you,” said Dad as he held the cafeteria door open for Mom. I watched them through the steamy cafeteria window and realized how much I loved them.
As I think about that lunchtime now, my feelings of embarrassment have faded, but the warm, loving feeling is still strong. My parents made a small sacrifice that day, an hour of time. Yet in that hour, they brought new meaning to the words, “We love you.” I knew they really cared.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Trevan woke up and turned off his alarm clock. Eight days until my baptism, he thought. That meant his interview with the bishop would be soon. But what if I’m not ready?
That night the missionaries came over for dinner. Taco night was Trevan’s favorite, but it was always more fun with the missionaries. They could even play a game of scripture charades after dinner—as long as Trevan and his sister listened to the lesson first.
“Tonight we have a message about baptism,” Sister Carlisle said.
Trevan jumped in his seat. “I’m getting baptized next week!”
“That’s great!” Sister Carlisle gave him a high five. “Are you excited?”
“I guess so, but I’m kind of worried about talking to the bishop,” Trevan said. “What if I don’t know the answers?”
“It’s OK to be nervous,” Sister Kemp said. “But I bet you know more than you think. Why do you think it’s important to be baptized?”
Trevan wasn’t sure. “To be obedient?”
“Right!” said Sister Kemp. She held up a picture of Jesus. “Baptism is so important that Jesus was baptized, even though He never sinned. When we’re baptized, we make covenants, or promises, with Heavenly Father.”
“Do you know what promises you’ll be making?” asked Sister Carlisle.
“I think so!” said Trevan. “We learned this at home evening last week, right Mom?”
Mom nodded. “We can remember our covenants by remembering the word ‘take.’ Can you remember what the letters stand for?”
Trevan looked at his sister Cassidy for help. “T stands for taking His name upon us,” she said. “A, always remembering Him.”
“I know the next one!” said Trevan. “K is for keeping the commandments.”
“You got it,” said Mom. “And E is for enduring to the end.”
“That means following Jesus my whole life. And repenting when I make mistakes,” Trevan said.
“Awesome!” said Sister Carlisle. “And when we keep those promises, do you know what Heavenly Father promises to give us in return?”
“Uh, blessings?” Trevan asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “Heavenly Father promises to forgive us when we repent. He also promises that the Holy Ghost will guide us.”
Trevan nodded. It was starting to make more sense.
Sister Carlisle pulled out a notebook. “If you’re nervous about the questions the bishop will ask you, we can go over them together.” She turned a few pages and read the first question. “Do you have faith in and a testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ?”
“Yeah,” said Trevan. He relaxed as Sister Carlisle read the other questions. “Those are easy,” he said when she finished.
“They are,” Sister Carlisle said. “But it’s still important for the bishop to ask them. He wants to make sure you feel ready to make covenants with Heavenly Father.”
At the end of the lesson, Sister Kemp shared her testimony. “I know Heavenly Father loves us because He hears and answers our prayers.”
“I know that too!” said Trevan. “This morning I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me know if I’m ready to be baptized.”
“And how do you feel now?” Sister Kemp asked.
“I don’t feel so worried anymore,” Trevan said. “I feel ready!”

Cheng Han-sin awakened with a feeling of great happiness, but it took him a few seconds to remember why he felt the way he did.
Stretching out on the mat helped him to recollect. He had given his bed to his aged grandparents who had come to Hsinchu to join in the New Year’s Eve celebration.
This was the very day! There would be fun and feasting all over Taiwan, with fireworks and a parade in the evening. Best of all, he was to march in the head of a dragon. He had been chosen because of his good grades at school and because he happened to be just the right size.
Oh, it was good to be alive this day in Hsinchu, to have grandparents, and to be just the right size to stand inside the head of a dragon and guide it in the parade! He jumped up from the mat, slipped on his clothes, and went out to the kitchen where his mother was preparing a breakfast of rice and fried vegetables. The feasting would come later.
After breakfast his father said, "Now all of you scatter and do your chores. Then I have a surprise for you." From the smile on his father’s face Han-sin knew that it was a good surprise.
He hurried out to weed the small garden. When he came back into the house his sister Mei-ling had just finished wiping off the floor mats. His brother Shih-kai was watering the house plants. The two younger children were listening to their grandfather tell how he and their grandmother had come all the way from the farm on the train.
Waiting impatiently for his father to come in from his work in the garden, Han-sin asked, "Is it time now for the surprise?"
"Now is the time, my son," said his father. "Come. We will all go down to the park."
Han-sin asked, "Grandfather, will you not come with us to the park?"
"No, my son. I cannot walk so far. My old knees do not hold up for more than a few steps."
It was the first cloud on Han-sin’s happy day.
The children followed their father from the house. He was carrying a large package. When they reached the park he brought out a large kite. "This is for you, Han-sin," he said, "because you have brought honor to the house of Cheng."
Han-sin unwound the string and ran along the grass. The kite was lifted upward. It was in the shape of a carp, and as it filled with the wind, the mouth of the fish kite opened as though it were searching for food.
The children all laughed and cheered. "It is the finest kite in all the world," said Mei-ling.
After many flights Father said, "Come, it is time to go home. We will have our dinner, and then it will be the hour to go to the parade."
As they reached the house they took off their shoes and put on the clean slippers that were lined up outside the door. The house was filled with delicious odors of food. Mother said, "Come. The New Year’s feast is ready."
There was fish, steamed rice and vegetables, bits of pork in sweet and sour sauce, bananas and melons, and a sweetmeat for an extra treat.
Before long it was time for Han-sin to leave to take his place in the parade.
"We will all be there to watch you," said his father. "Will you be able to see us?"
"Oh, yes, indeed! I can look out through the huge mouth as long as I am careful not to stick my head out too far. Behind me is Lin Ting-fang. It is he who blows the smoke through the dragon’s nostrils."
Han-sin turned to his grandfather. "I hope that you will like the parade."
"I’m sorry, son, but I cannot walk even that far or stand that long. Your grandmother and I will sit outdoors here and imagine the dragon writhing down the street."
"And I shall stay here with them," his mother added. "I will have many more chances to see parades."
"There will be music that you could hear," said Han-sin. "There will be flutes and banjos and oboes. And there will be fireworks along the way that may be high enough for you to see."
"That will be fine, my son. We will watch and listen."
Han-sin left. He was troubled that his grandparents would not be able to see the parade.
Chang Tso-lin, the parade director, explained, "The big dragon is in the lead. Next come the musicians and the acrobats. And you, Han-sin, will be the last in the little dragon. All you have to do is follow and weave from side to side as you march along. At the third fountain the parade will turn right and return on the other street."
The boys took their places inside the dragon. The sides came down and hid all but their feet. It was a gorgeous green, trimmed with tinsel and make-believe jewels.
As they started to weave down the street, Han-sin thought again of his grandparents. If only they could see the parade! They have had little in life but hard work on the farm.
The boys fell in line behind the acrobats, who were tumbling and performing other stunts along the way. Just behind Han-sin was Lin Ting-fang, blowing smoke through the dragon’s nostrils. He blew some in Han-sin’s face. The boy almost stumbled as he began to choke.
"Please don’t do that again," said Han-sin. "I might fall."
"A fine dragon you’d make if you can’t stand a little smoke," responded Ting-fang, blowing more smoke around Han-sin’s head.
Han-sin started to cough and his eyes were blinded for a moment. "If I fall, it will ruin the parade," he warned.
"So it would," agreed Ting-fang, almost with glee.
Han-sin remembered now. Ting-fang had wanted to be the leader. He was a year older and thought that he should have been chosen.
Han-sin said no more. He thought that if he paid no attention, Ting-fang might stop bothering him. But it was not so. Almost every time the dragon came to an extra large crowd or was making a wide curve, Ting-fang blew more smoke around Han-sin’s head.
At times he could hardly see where they were going because of the smoke. But still he counted the fountains as they passed. Ahead was the third one, Yu Shann, named in honor of the high mountain.
The big dragon in the lead had already turned, followed by the musicians. Now the acrobats were turning. If I turn left instead of right, Han-sin suddenly had a thought, I can go down our street. Then my grandparents can see the dragon.
Disregarding the consequences, Han-sin left the main body of the parade and turned to the left. Behind him Ting-fang hissed, "You numbskull! You have made the wrong turn. Go back before it is too late!"
"It is too late now," said Han-sin. "We will go down this street."
People came running out of their houses to see the dragon. Han-sin’s grandparents and his mother were already seated before the house. Their faces lighted up with surprise and joy as the dragon swerved in their direction and bowed its head.
When they returned to the starting place Chang Tso-lin was waiting. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.
"I told him!" shouted Ting-fang. "I told him to turn back."
"Anyone can make a mistake," said Tso-lin. "It is not too serious."
Han-sin swallowed hard. He could have let it go at that. But instead he softly said, "It was not a mistake, sir. I went the wrong way because I wanted my grandparents to see the dragon."
"Then you disobeyed. You must tell your father. He will give the proper punishment."
Han-sin bowed and started to walk home. He arrived soon after his father and the younger children.
"It was such a beautiful parade!" Mei-ling was saying. "We wish that you could have seen it."
"But we did," said Grandfather. "At least we saw the best part—Han-sin’s dragon."
"How was that possible?" asked Father. "The parade turned to the right."
"All but the last dragon," explained Han-sin. "I turned it down this street. But it was the wrong thing to do. Chang Tso-lin says I must be punished."
"He is right," agreed Father. "You will bring me the new kite."
"Yes, Father," said Han-sin. He went inside and brought out the beautiful new kite that swam in the sky like a fish.
His father took the kite and handed it to Shih-kai. "It is now yours," he said.
Shih-kai turned to his older brother. "Will you help me fly the kite?" he asked.
Han-sin nodded with a smile.

Have you ever been stuck, wondering whether you should move forward with your life or wait for the Lord to put things in place for you? If so, welcome to my world. But one experience helped me get unstuck as I trusted in the Lord.
During my first year of college, my professor mentioned a job opportunity for a copyediting position at the school. Having recently discovered my passion for editing, I wanted this job—badly. But I decided to wait and apply when I wasn’t taking classes.
When I went to apply that winter, I was disappointed to find that the team was no longer hiring for the position. I figured I had waited too long and missed my chance. Yet I still had this nagging feeling that I was supposed to have that job. I wondered why things hadn’t worked out when Heavenly Father seemed to be encouraging me toward it. Had I not acted soon enough?
As I pondered the ways Heavenly Father helps me receive revelation, I realized that not receiving this job could have been a blessing to allow me to become more than I was before. Perhaps I needed to learn more before I was ready.
I decided to work on developing my skills, and although I was worried about postponing my application for the next few semesters, the Spirit assured me it was the right decision.
As I waited for the job to open again, I learned more about what editors do and strengthened my understanding of the English language. I gained confidence in my editing abilities and even picked up some other skills. Turns out, I needed all these skills before I would be seriously considered for the job.
Looking back, I know the Lord directed me during this time to help me develop the skills I needed to become a better editor. If I hadn’t felt prompted to seek the job in the first place, I might not have put so much effort into becoming a better editor.
The Lord has multiplied me. When I applied for the job again, I presented an updated résumé noting all the new skills I had gained and was hired within the week. In the end, the Lord knew more than I did about when I would be ready for this job.
The Lord needed me to be in the right place at the right time with the right combination of skills and knowledge to bless me with what I desired. Elder J. Devn Cornish, an emeritus General Authority Seventy, taught: “He knows each of us individually, and He loves us, every one. He wants to bless us.”1
If I had known when I didn’t get the job in the first place that I just needed to “rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:7), I might have noticed sooner that the Lord was helping me shape myself into a more competent editor.
Eventually the timing was right. And when I got the job, I absolutely loved it. I found new friends in my team members, and we grew to trust one another’s judgment and help one another both at work and in life in general. I was so grateful for the growth Heavenly Father encouraged me to experience beforehand. Without it, I wouldn’t have been ready for this job!

I will never forget my first viewing of The Man of La Mancha, a play about growth and redemption. Don Quixote will not permit Aldonza, a woman sadly abused by men, to be what she thinks she is. He calls her his lady, his beautiful, pure, fair, lady. He gives her a new name, “Dulcinea,” which infuriates her. But over the course of the play his view of her takes hold, and at his deathbed someone speaks to her, calling her Aldonza. “My name,” she replies with great feeling, “is Dulcinea.” The audience breathed as one. We were all caught up in the marvelous spiritual triumph that had taken place before our eyes. And as we left the theater there was an almost tangible bond that united us.

Returning from serving in the Thailand Mission, Sister Phonphongrat worked for a publishing company for five years. But then she began to feel that she wanted to do something to serve others more. She applied for a job in the Phanat-Nikhom refugee camp in Cholburi, which prepares refugees from Southeast Asia for a new life. Some of these refugees have sponsors in the United States and need to learn American customs and culture.
“The camp administrator wanted to hire someone who knew the English language well,” she recalls. “When I went for an interview, I told them that my English wasn’t very good, but that I knew about American culture. I said that I wanted the refugees most of all to know that I loved them, that they were important, and that they were children of God. The interviewer looked at me and asked, ‘What are you? A Mormon?’ But I got the job.”
Refugees are not Sister Phonphongrat’s only pupils. She has taught both seminary and institute classes. “As a seminary student I learned the importance of keeping a journal and studying the scriptures,” she recalls. “I always write out the scriptures I want to remember and use them to guide me in my daily life.”
Since her baptism, Sister Phonphongrat has received her temple endowment and patriarchal blessing. Both experiences have been sources of great strength for her. “They are something I can refer to, something I can get strength from. It used to bother me that I wasn’t married, but now I know I have to live the commandments, be active in the Church, and live the gospel principles as best I can. If I do, everything will be all right. I feel I have a work to do.”