Gospel Story Finder

Tobogganing was a great sport in my younger days, and the foothills above our house offered unlimited slopes for our favorite sport. Our only trouble was that we didn’t have a toboggan large enough to hold more than one person.
One day when I was about ten years old, two of my friends asked me if I would go with them to an abandoned shack high on the hill. Its sides were made of corrugated iron, but they just hung loose, flapping in the breeze. With one end turned up, what a perfect toboggan a piece of that shack would make!
I hurried home after school to get a hammer. The only one I could find belonged to my father’s dental laboratory equipment. Father was not at home, so I took the hammer and went with my friends.
The snow was quite deep that winter and the days were short. We stayed longer than we had planned, and it began to get dark before we finished making our toboggan.
Finally we decided we better hurry home before it was too dark to see. There was no trail on the hill, and the snow came up above our knees. We started running down, jumping through the deep snow.
My hands were cold and half numb. All of a sudden I felt Father’s hammer slip through my fingers and fly into the snow behind me. I called to my friends to wait. They stopped to see what the trouble was, but soon they became impatient and insisted on going on.
I went back in my tracks to try and find the hammer, but it hadn’t even left a mark in the snow. I looked around frantically.
It was really getting dark now, and I was alone up on the hill in the deep snow. I knew I shouldn’t have taken my father’s hammer without his permission, for he needed the tool in his work. Now it was lost and I couldn’t find it!
As I sat in the snow, I was so sad and cold and lonely that I felt just like crying. Then I remembered how I had been taught that when I needed help, I could pray to our Heavenly Father—no matter where I was. I needed help, so I put my face in my hands and prayed with all my heart.
As I opened my eyes and rolled sideways to get up, my hand went down deep in the snow and touched something hard. I took hold of it and pulled it up through the snow. It was Father’s hammer!
I thanked our Heavenly Father for answering my prayer. Then I jumped up and hurried as fast as I could to overtake the other boys who were way ahead of me.
As I overtook them, I realized I had learned something of special importance that day—that we are never alone and that our prayers are heard and answered.

Perhaps President Benson’s most challenging call came in 1946 at the close of World War II when he was appointed president of the European Mission. His specific assignment was to reopen missions and to ease the suffering among members of the Church in the war-torn countries of Europe. Overcoming incredible difficulties caused by lack of transportation and basic supplies, President Benson was able to facilitate relief efforts for many European Saints.

Note: The following youth from Paradise, California, USA, reflect on the meaning of Christmas after the most destructive wildfire in California’s history burned down their community.
“After the fire I realized that the most important things to have are your family and friends. So although we didn’t get many gifts, it was so really nice to just be surrounded by family. It was still a happy time for us, even though it wasn’t like our normal Christmas.”
Rachel W.
“I got to help unload and organize several truckloads of donated toys. Then we opened the doors and let everyone in. It was really fun to watch all the kids. Their eyes would light up. They were so excited! It made me happy to see them so happy and peaceful after living through something so awful.”
Audrey V.
“It was great to see everyone kind of get thrown together and depend on each other socially. … I learned that material things don’t matter as much. Service, family, and time spent together matters a lot more. Life is valuable. Things can always change for the worse, so we need to try to enjoy the positive times while they’re around. We’re the ones that make those positive times!”
Billy A.

“After a good show you just feel like getting out and hugging the whole audience,” said one of the Brigham Young University Sounds, and that’s exactly what they did after each performance.
It was all part of a six-week tour in which the 36 BYU students sang and danced their way across the United States, Canada, Romania, and Bulgaria. “Shower the people you love with love” was the theme of their variety show that ended consistently with a standing ovation. And wherever they went they were deluged with hugs, kisses, tears, flowers, and requests for autographs.
The tour was a hodgepodge of rushing in and out of television studios and concert halls, sleeping through long bus rides, meeting Church members throughout the USA and Canada, and making friends with the Romanians and Bulgarians. It was also filled with people reaching out to others, like the group of Romanian high school students singing “Oh, Suzanna” in broken English to make the Sounds feel welcome, or the nonmember in Massachusetts giving a large gift of money to the group to show her appreciation for the “uplifting, clean entertainment” she’d seen.
But most important, it was an opportunity to spread the joy of the gospel through song, dance, and music. In fact, the Sounds unofficially call themselves the “performing missionaries.” They even held missionary training sessions before they left on tour to discuss how they could best answer the questions they might be asked.
They carried an excitement about the gospel with them wherever they went, an unbounded enthusiasm for sharing what was precious to them. It was a new experience for some, an experience well-practiced for the returned missionaries. It was also the driving force that kept them determined to please audiences throughout the tour.
“I’ve lived in Provo all my life, so it was really exciting to share my enthusiasm for the gospel and watch nonmembers catch the light,” said Kathy Kocherhans, a singer with the group.
“After the show, people would come up to talk to us, touched by its message. It was a common thing that happened every night. In the mission field I was lucky to teach in a month as many people as I taught in a week on tour,” said Steve Shaw, a dancer with the Sounds.
“I talked to a 17-year-old nonmember about the Church, gave her a Book of Mormon, and bore my testimony. It was the most exciting experience of my life,” said Tim Andersen, a trumpet player with the group.
“I was a bit nervous at first to approach people, but once I found a comfortable way to lead the conversation around to the Church by discussing family home evening or BYU, I found it to be one of the most rewarding things I’d ever done. It’s fulfilling to know that I might be a small link that could introduce someone to a new and better life,” said Michelle Milne, a singer and BYU’s homecoming queen for 1976–77.
“Even after two years experience in the mission field, this tour has been the most unique missionary experience I’ve ever had,” said Rob Hightower, business manager for the group.
“Talking to people about the gospel is sometimes a hard thing to do. But as it says in Moroni, ‘Perfect love casteth out all fear’ (Moro. 8:16), and once you surpass the line of holding back, giving of yourself and talking about the gospel go hand in hand. The key for me is to forget myself and be more interested in the other person than I am in myself,” said Jerry Hatch, a dancer with the Sounds.
“I placed five copies of the Book of Mormon one night with young men at the naval base who had been moved by our show to the point that they wanted the joy we felt. I loved to talk with people after the show and explain why we generate that warm glow during the show,” said Mike Farnes, a singer.
Then there were the fruits of their labors, not only in sharing the gospel and seeing people decide to be baptized, but also just in touching people’s lives.
A misty-eyed official in Turnavo, Bulgaria, asked the Sounds to assemble after their show. He told them, “You have brought the sun to us. We have seen America through your music and smiles. There is no distance between our countries today.”
One young girl pressed a card into the hand of one of the singers. It read, “You are remembered—we love you.” An older man drew another aside and told him, “I feel impressed to tell you that I know you’re my brother, and I love you.”
And there was the 23-year-old truck driver in Bulgaria who transported the sound equipment across the country wherever the Sounds went. Even though he spoke no English, at the end of his ten-day tour with the Sounds, he wept to see his friends leave. They wept too.
One of the highlights of the tour was at the Great Lakes Naval Base in Illinois where two officer trainees had seen the Sounds perform, talked with the missionaries, and announced at the preshow warm-up two nights later that they were to be baptized that week.
“You taste a little bit of the truth and want more and more,” said Bill Harvey, one of the officer trainees. “I have to join the Church to satisfy that thirst. I just hope that the Lord will be able to use my life so I can be a missionary and teach other people. That’s what I really want to do now.”
At a fireside given by the Sounds in Hamburg, New York, two investigators decided to join the Church. After a show in Ontario, Canada, another investigator decided to be baptized. And one family in New York hunted down Jerry Allman, who had toured there the year before, to tell him that a family had been baptized as the result of his placing a Book of Mormon with them the year before when they’d come to the performance.
The tour did have its disasters—an epidemic of sore throats, a spill down the Hill Cumorah by the pianist, the flu, a broken hand, and a run-in with a bus requiring stitches for one of the singers. But through it all, the Sounds maintained their determination to perform well and open their hearts to people.
“After a performance it’s hard to explain your feelings,” said singer and band member Denise Hatch. “It’s almost something you have to experience. You feel completely warm inside and happy, and you can’t stop smiling because you feel like you’ve really given something worthwhile, because you’ve given of yourself. It makes all the hours and hours of practice and frustration and tears that go along with the performing worth every second of it.”
Editor’s Note: The BYU Sounds are now known as one of two BYU Young Ambassadors groups.

I first saw Karen Aydlotte at a multi-stake fireside at BYU. She was the speaker. She was smiling and joking and telling us that there was a good chance she might not live much longer, that she had cancer, an often incurable form of it.
Several weeks later I met Karen through a mutual friend. She was very open with her feelings. We talked a good deal about life and death. For me, for most of us, it is easy to put the reality of death into what Shakespeare aptly phrased as “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.” For Karen death was hard reality. She had to reconcile living with dying.

After my baptism and confirmation, my mother drew me aside and asked, “What do you feel?” I described as best I could the warm feeling of peace, comfort, and happiness I had. Mother explained that what I was feeling was the gift I had just received, the gift of the Holy Ghost. She told me that if I lived worthy of it, I would have that gift with me continually. That was a teaching moment that has lived with me all my life.

We also visited my widowed Aunt Dorothy before she died. She had been very ill for some time, yet she lived on. She waited patiently to be with her husband again after this life. She depended on help from others but lived as fully as possible. She often read the scriptures. A small sign in her home expressed Dorothy’s attitude. It simply said, “Joy.”
Some of the happiest people I know: my mother, Ramona (top), my cousin Dave and Penny Barnes (center), and my Aunt Dorothy (above).
Photographs courtesy of the author
The Keetch family, my mother, Dave, Penny, and Aunt Dorothy are examples of being joyful during trials. They simply live the gospel and look to better days ahead. In doing so they show joy that exceeds the temporary, though painful, trials they face. With faith in God, they follow His plan for them and rely on Jesus Christ and the blessings of His Atonement. This brings joy and peace.

As a new General Authority, Elder Marion G. Romney (1897–1988) felt inadequate in fulfilling his important calling, so he sought advice from his friend Elder Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. The counsel offered that day both surprised and motivated Elder Romney. Elder Lee said: “If you are to be successful as a General Authority, you will need to be inspired. You will need to receive revelation. I will give you one piece of advice: Go to bed early and get up early. If you do, your body and mind will become rested and then in the quiet of those early morning hours, you will receive more flashes of inspiration and insight than at any other time of the day.”
Years later, reflecting back on that experience, then-President Romney said: “From that day on, I put that counsel into practice, and I know it works. Whenever I have a serious problem, or some assignment of a creative nature with which I hope to receive the influence of the Spirit, I always receive more assistance in the early morning hours than at any other time of the day.”1
When I first read this account, I too was surprised by the advice Elder Lee gave. I would never have connected an early daily schedule with revelation. However, I now know that there is a direct correlation. I have also learned that actions traditionally associated with receiving revelation like prayer, scripture study, fasting, temple attendance, and service are greatly enhanced when I go to bed early and get up early.

Years ago when I was in business, I learned a very expensive lesson because I did not listen carefully to the counsel of my father, nor did I heed the promptings of the Spirit giving me guidance from my Heavenly Father. My father and I were in the automobile business, and the Ford Motor Company was looking for dealers to sell their new line of cars. Ford executives invited my father and me to a preview showing of what they thought would be a spectacularly successful product. When we saw the cars, my father, who had over 35 years experience in the business, cautioned me about becoming a dealer. However, the Ford sales personnel were very persuasive, and I chose to become Salt Lake City’s first—and actually last—Edsel dealer. And if you don’t know what an Edsel is, ask your grandpa. He will tell you that the Edsel was a spectacular failure.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Andrew swallowed his popcorn and grabbed another handful.
His older brother, Caleb, plopped down on the couch beside him. “Hey, can I have some?”
Andrew didn’t look away from the TV. “No.”
“Aw, come on. You can share.”
Caleb reached for the bowl, but Andrew snatched it away.
“No! I already told you before. Don’t ask again!”
“Fine.” Caleb got up and left the room.
The next day, Andrew went into the kitchen. Caleb was making some sushi with rice, seaweed, and canned pork.
Andrew’s mouth watered. “Can I have some?”
“No,” Caleb said.
That made Andrew really mad. He ran downstairs to tell Dad.
“Why is Caleb being so selfish?” he asked.
Dad frowned. “I saw yesterday that you wouldn’t share your popcorn. Why should Caleb share with you after you didn’t share with him?”
“Because he’s my brother!” Andrew said.
“Then why didn’t you share with him?”
“He never shares with me either! Besides, I made it for myself, not him,” Andrew said. But he felt a little bad. Maybe it was mean of him not to share.
“Did you know that in Korea, sharing is really important?” Dad asked. Andrew’s family was from Korea. “Sharing is a way to show someone you care about them. So if you don’t share, it’s kind of like saying that you don’t care about them.”
“But I do care about Caleb.”
Andrew thought about what Jesus might do. He remembered how Jesus loved everyone—even those who were unkind to Him.
“I think I’m going to share with Caleb tomorrow and see how it turns out,” he told Dad.
Dad smiled. “I think that’s a good idea.”
When Andrew went to bed that night, he thought about other nice things he could do for Caleb. He was excited to start sharing!
The next morning, Andrew woke up to a surprise. Caleb had made breakfast just for him!
“Dad talked to me about sharing,” Caleb said. “I want to do better. So I made this for you.”
“Thanks!” Andrew said. “I want to do better too.”
Later that day, Andrew and Caleb watched a movie. Andrew let Caleb pick which one. Then he made some popcorn just for Caleb! He looked inside the bowl. It was like the popcorn was saying, “EAT ME!” But Andrew didn’t take any. He gave Caleb the bowl and said, “This is all yours. I’m sorry I didn’t share before.”
Andrew shared with Caleb all week. He let Caleb read his books. He let Caleb use his markers. He let Caleb play with his favorite toy. He even gave Caleb an extra turn when they were playing a game.
The more Andrew shared with Caleb, the more Caleb shared with him! Soon they were doing nice things for each other all the time. Andrew knew that Heavenly Father was helping him share with his brother. Andrew wasn’t perfect like Jesus, but he was trying to be more like Him every day.
This story took place in the USA.
Illustration by Adam Howling

Other personal and family preparedness projects were also carried out, including one planned to help an inactive family clean up their home, which President Kimball has asked all of us to do.

This eight-member family lived in a little ten-by-twelve-foot one-room home with a dirt floor, two double beds, a small table, and a small kerosene stove. There was neither electricity nor running water.

The branch welfare services committee organized to solve the problem. The Relief Society sisters carried many buckets of water to clean the house. They helped the family take the furniture outside in the sun and remove the accumulations of years.

Home teachers and other priesthood brethren assisted in the repairing of the furniture.

The welfare services missionaries participated by giving lessons on cleanliness and personal hygiene.

Another way the missionaries were of assistance to the branch was through presentations of special lessons, such as baby care, to the Relief Society sisters. They have taught principles and techniques in family health care. The sisters have now learned to make their own clothing and to use sound judgment in shopping.

These activities have increased the sisters’ love for Relief Society, and now, for the first time, regular visiting teaching has become a reality.

The children have also benefitted from the personal and family preparedness projects in Bermejillo. The mothers now make sure the children are well groomed before sending them to Primary.

Older children are developing teaching skills as they help younger children learn the lessons of the gospel.

The missionaries have found that just by being an example to the children they teach them important principles. Children have learned of President Kimball’s counsel about saving money for their missions. They also now spend any of their extra pesos on fruit rather than candy.

Nonmembers have been influenced by the example of members in Bermejillo, and a number have been taught the gospel.

As the branch grew, the rented facilities became too small for them. So President Castañeda obtained permission for the use of this plot of land [slide shown], upon which to build a chapel. Other branches in the mission had met with extreme difficulty in obtaining such permission, but the village officials in Bermejillo were aware of the accomplishments of the branch and were pleased at the prospect of having a chapel built here.

A small, temporary, adobe chapel has been erected on the property and is now serving while the Saints raise their share of the funds for their new meeting place, which they have been authorized to build.

Much of their portion of the money is being earned through branch projects. Every Tuesday and Thursday the Relief Society sisters divide into small groups to make doughnuts and tamales. They then sell them in the parks or door-to-door. One of the sisters reported how difficult it was to sell door-to-door, but she said, “We want our chapel, and we are willing to do whatever it takes to earn enough money.”

To date they have met all their commitments, and the construction of a chapel on this site is scheduled to begin before the end of this year.

What we have just reviewed is a marvelous example of what can take place in any Church unit, regardless of circumstances, when the leaders and members begin to understand fully and live the basic principles of welfare services. In four short years, look what these Saints have accomplished. They have begun to raise gardens and store their produce, paint their homes, plant trees and flowers, build toilet and shower units, clean and fix up the interiors and exteriors of their homes, purify their water, properly prepare their food, and provide more nutritious diets for their children.

Beyond this, the members have extended the hand of fellowship by helping inactive families solve their temporal problems, by friendshipping nonmembers, and by setting a good example of Latter-day Saint living.

The spirituality of this branch has been enhanced through increased member activity, better preparation by class instructors, more effective home and visiting teachers, additional converts to the Church, branch projects, and personal sacrifice. It is interesting to note that there has been more than a tenfold increase in the per capita fast offering donations from this small branch over the past four years.

The principles of love, service, work, self-reliance, consecration, and stewardship are all evident in the accomplishments of the branch in Bermejillo. Indeed, these members are well on their way to establishing the ideal of Zion.

I am persuaded that any ward or stake in the Church can experience the same kind of success as the branch in Bermejillo. It will come as a result of organizing welfare services committees and of teaching and living the basic principles of welfare services. Many wards and stakes have their own resource people to call on, but where local resource people are not available, welfare services missionaries may be called through proper channels to assist Church units in emerging areas where temporal problems are critical.

May each of us catch the vision of welfare services as these Saints have in Bermejillo. By working together we can fully establish the latter-day Zion. That we may do this, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

I spoke earlier of the Kirtland period of Church history. The years of 1836 and 1837 were as difficult as that young Church had ever faced—financially, politically, and internally. In the midst of that stress, Joseph Smith had the remarkable prophetic prompting to send some of his ablest men (ultimately the entire Quorum of the Twelve Apostles) abroad on missions. It was a bold, inspired move, one that would in the end save the Church from the perils of the day, but in the near term it imposed great burdens on the Saints—painful for those who went away and perhaps even more painful for those who stayed at home.
I quote from Elder Robert B. Thompson:
“The day appointed for the departure of the Elders to England having arrived, I [stopped at] the house of Brother [Heber C.] Kimball to ascertain when he would start [on his journey], as I expected to accompany him two or three hundred miles, intending to spend my labors in Canada that season.
“The door being partly open, I entered and felt struck with the sight which presented itself to my view. I would have retired, thinking that I was intruding, but I felt riveted to the spot. The father was pouring out his soul to … [God, pleading] that He who ‘careth for sparrows, and feedeth the young ravens when they cry’ would supply the wants of his wife and little ones in his absence. He then, like the patriarchs, and by virtue of his office, laid his hands upon their heads individually, leaving a father’s blessing upon them, … commending them to the care and protection of God, while he should be engaged preaching the Gospel in a foreign land. While thus engaged [in giving those blessings] his voice was almost lost in the sobs of those around [him], who [were trying in their youthful way to be strong but having a very hard time doing so.] … He proceeded, but his heart was too much affected to do so regularly. … He was obliged to stop at intervals, while … big tears rolled down his cheeks, an index to the feelings which reigned in his bosom. My heart was not stout enough to refrain,” said Brother Thompson. “In spite of myself I wept, and mingled my tears with theirs. At the same time I felt thankful that I had the privilege of contemplating such a scene.”

Patience Fletcher carefully snapped the cover open on her father’s large gold pocket watch that hung on a chain from the wooden bedpost. She gazed curiously at the faded face in the small brown-tinted photograph on the inside of the cover.
Less than sixty seconds had ticked away on the shiny timepiece when Niles, Patience’s lanky fourteen-year-old brother, passed their parents’ open bedroom door and spied his six-year-old sister standing barefoot in a rumpled nightgown against a misty patch of dawning window light.
Life along the river started as early as first light—sometimes sooner. The children’s father ran a ferryboat across the Fox River. It was an uncommonly beautiful sight to see the first sign of day break over Crazy Water Canyon before the ear caught the sound of somebody’s wagon creaking down the little rutted dirt road toward the buckled landing and Fletcher’s Ferry.
It had been Niles’s responsibility since Grandpa Ely died to collect the tolls while his father readied the passengers, wagons, and animals on the flatboat.
Now as Niles stepped quietly into the room, he said, “That’s Grandpa Ely.” He pulled a suspender up over his shoulders and pushed a shock of long yellow hair out of his eyes, eyes that warmly observed his sister’s undisturbed interest in the picture. “You were too little to remember,” he continued, “but he used to call you his ‘little bit of lace.’”
Patience’s large dark eyes shifted from the sunlit photograph to her brother. “Could you tell me about him, Niles? Every time Pa starts to, his eyes get all shiny and wet. He says it’s just road dust in his eyes. Then all of a sudden he remembers something he has to do and leaves.”
Niles smiled understandingly and crossed to the window. He faced the deep, wide river, glistening in the daybreak light. Then his gaze settled on a small grave beside the gently rolling water that was barely visible beneath the dew-sparkling branches of a willow tree. “It’s still hard for Pa to talk about him, little Sis. He misses him something fierce, even after five years.”
Patience looked again with growing curiosity at the photograph beside the steadily ticking watch, then joined her brother at the window.
Niles stood there a moment in silence. Then he began to speak softly. “I remember Grandpa’s hands. Yes, it’s his hands that I remember best. They were big and strong. I seldom saw them idle in his lap. They were busy clearing the land from here to the river while Pa was laid up with a broken leg. I remember the trees and brush were so thick around here, Pa said it put the wind into a regular fit just trying to find a place to go around. Grandpa’s hands were lined and worn from a lifetime of use. ‘His heart was in his hands,’ Ma always said, ‘because he was always reaching out to help someone.’ If they weren’t busy doing things like lifting me up to this window so I could see you the minute you were born or pulling me out of that river down there the time I fell in and almost drowned, they were helping Pa rig the ferry or some stranger mend a wagon wheel or else picking wild flowers for Grandma.
“His hands were gentle and soft, too, as soft as the river at its quietest, like the time he worked his fingers through my hair for a day and a night when I was near out of my head with fever. And they were happy too. They’d slap his knees to beat the band everytime Pa played his fiddle. And there were times I’d see them folded together in prayer or resting atop the heads of those in need of a blessing. Once a wagonload of people sick with cholera came through here. They’d been turned out by the rest of their train. Grandpa’s hands bid them welcome and worked miracles, and not a one of those folks died.
“I remember how I liked to hold his hand when we went for walks, because it felt safe. And I remember how it felt when his hand squeezed mine. It took the sting out of the day my dog, Banjo, ran off and never came back. And his hand on my shoulder filled me with pride the morning I gave my first Sunday School talk.
“Those hands held the scriptures too. They dug into fields and planted seeds or went deep into his pocket to give some poor traveler a dime. And sometimes they held Grandma tenderly, but with a sure strength. They could become excited when Grandpa was caught up in telling us tales of desert storms and flatland fires and thundering prairie herds. And they were as peaceable as an amen when they bandaged a hurt or tucked me into bed.”
Patience looked up at her brother in the patched, faded trousers. “Grandpa was a good man, wasn’t he, Niles?”
Niles smiled, his eyes misting. “One of the best, little Sis. One of the very best.”
The rattling sound of a flatbed wagon, piled high with barbwire on the road outside, pulled Niles’s attention back to the window. He could see his father on the jetty, setting aside a long hooked pole he had been using to clear away debris the water had deposited against the upriver side of the landing. Then he started up the pier toward the approaching wagon.
“Well,” Niles remarked to his sister, “it looks like there’s a wagon that wants to cross. I better get out there and help Pa.” He started out the open door, jerking his second suspender up over his shoulder and adding, “As hot as it feels already, you’d best fetch some of Ma’s lemonade for those folks coming in.”
“OK, Niles,” Patience assured him. She walked back to the bed and returned the pocket watch to its place on the bedpost. She lingered a bit in the warm silence of the little room, staring at the face of Grandpa Ely. Finally she whispered, “I hope my hands grow up to be just like yours, Grandpa. I truly do!” Then she turned and whisked out of the room.

We can seldom foresee how the Lord will make us instruments in his hands. One year when my companion was out of town, my daughter Elizabeth went with me on my visits. It was Christmastime, so we baked cookies, wrapped them in cellophane, and tied them with red ribbon and a pine branch. Then we put all these little gifts in a bag and had a prayer together. At the last minute I felt a strong prompting and slipped in an extra package.
After visiting several houses, we reached the home of a sister who lived with her married son and his family, all of whom were members. Another older woman, looking very tired, was there delivering clothing. Her name was Margarita, and she earned her living doing laundry by hand. Knowing what hard work that is, I handed her the other little package of cookies and wished her a Merry Christmas. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she was completely alone and that this would be her only gift.
I spoke to her then about the Lord Jesus Christ and told her that if he is with us, we will not be lonely. I assured her that she was a daughter of God who loved her just as an earthly father loves his children and that if she sought after him, he would receive her with open arms. I told her many more things. Her face lighted up, and she agreed to receive the missionaries.
The next month when we went to visit that house, Margarita was there again. She hugged us and said, “Now I can really call you sisters. I was baptized last week.”

There were twelve children in the Cullimore family—six boys and six girls—and Elder Cullimore was the seventh child. Remembering those childhood days, Elder Cullimore says, “Father owned a store in Lindon and also a farm. I think my father got the farm just to keep us all busy. During the day we’d thin and top sugar beets or cut grain. Each fall Father would divide the money from the sugar company among us boys. Sometimes after a hard day’s work the store still had so many customers that we had to help out there until it closed at nine o’clock. And there were chores at home to do as well!
“My father was the most influential person in my life. His life was exemplary. He was a bishop for twenty-six years. When I was growing up, I didn’t even know any other bishop. We had what we called ‘home nights’ every week. And on Sundays it was just expected that we’d all go to church. Whether working on the farm or in the store, our large family always felt very close to each other.”

The chain reaction continued as Ana Carolina reached out to a new investigator. Tatiane Pimenta, age 16, began attending church when she and her family were introduced to the Church by Sister Pimentel. “I felt very timid because I didn’t know anyone,” Tatiane says. “I quietly stayed in the corner.”
But soon things began to change for Tatiane. “I started feeling good because I made a friend.” In one class, Sister Pimentel introduced a game in which all the girls put their shoes in the middle of the floor, put on someone else’s, then got to know the owner of the shoes they had picked. “That’s how I started talking to Ana Carolina,” remembers Tatiane. “She became my first friend, a friend who encouraged me a lot. Because of her, I felt able to join the Church.”

Sofía was almost eight years old. She was getting ready to be baptized. She was learning lots of important things. One thing she had learned about was prayer. She knew she could pray to Heavenly Father anytime. She knew she could pray anyplace.
One day Sofía and her mom decided to visit her dad at work. It would be a long trip. Her dad worked in another town. They would have to ride on a bus, then in a truck, and then in a taxi.
During the bus ride, Sofía fell asleep. She woke up when she heard a baby crying. A mom and dad with a baby had gotten on the bus. The baby was sick and crying loudly. The baby’s parents looked worried.
Sofía felt sorry for the baby. She felt sorry for the parents too. Then she had an idea. She whispered in Mama’s ear. “Could I say a prayer and ask Heavenly Father to bless the baby?”
“Of course,” Mama said with a smile.
Sofía bowed her head and said a silent prayer. She prayed hard. She asked Heavenly Father to bless the baby. She asked Him to help the baby feel better and stop crying.
Sofía knew that we do not always get what we pray for. She also knew that our prayers are not always answered right away. But in a short time the baby calmed down. Then the baby stopped crying. She seemed to feel better. Her parents did not look so worried.
Sofía felt warm and happy inside. She was happy for the baby—and for the baby’s parents. She knew Heavenly Father had heard her prayer.

My beloved wife, Ethel, and I enjoyed 37 years of a wonderfully happy marriage. At least that’s how I saw it. I hope she did too! Even her previous survival of cancer on two occasions and her significantly declining health over three years did not prepare me for what seemed an awful, sudden separation upon her death in 2021.
After her passing, the feelings of grief were intense and devastating. I was very fortunate. I had married an exceptional woman. We had many great shared memories. We had three daughters who lived nearby. I had a supportive Church community. One or two trusted friends were willing listeners, with whom I could share my innermost thoughts – though I felt awkward doing so. Even then, none of these, not even the sum of them, seemed to ease the immeasurable sorrow I felt.
Initially, the grief came in what seemed like never-ending torrents and, as time passed, later became waves (just as painful) that would crash onto me without warning. Bumping into someone, seeing a dress in a shop, hearing a piece of music, watching a grandchild that Ethel had never lived to see – all of these and more would bring on the tears. Nearly four years after Ethel’s departure, the frequency of intense grief has decreased, but the unpredictable onset of weeping for her continues with similar intensity. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Love does that to you.

Many years ago I spoke in an ancient theater in Ephesus. Bright sunlight flooded the ground where the Apostle Paul had stood to preach. My topic was Paul, the Apostle called of God.
The audience was hundreds of Latter-day Saints. They were arranged on the rows of stone benches the Ephesians had sat upon more than a millennium before. Among them were two living Apostles, Elder Mark E. Petersen and Elder James E. Faust.
As you can imagine, I had prepared carefully. I had read the Acts of the Apostles and the epistles, both those of Paul and his fellow Apostles. I had read and pondered Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians.
I tried my best to honor Paul and his office. After the talk a number of people said kind things. Both of the living Apostles were generous in their comments. But later Elder Faust took me aside and, with a smile and with softness in his voice, said, “That was a good talk. But you left out the most important thing you could have said.”
I asked him what that was. Weeks later he consented to tell me. His answer has been teaching me ever since.
He said that I could have told the people that if the Saints who heard Paul had possessed a testimony of the value and the power of the keys he held, perhaps the Apostles would not have had to be taken from the earth.
That sent me back to Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. I could see that Paul wanted the people to feel the value of the chain of priesthood keys reaching from the Lord through His Apostles to them, the members of the Lord’s Church. Paul was trying to build a testimony of those keys.

The youth of the Portland Sixth Ward, Portland Oregon East Stake, came up with an activity that tied up both young men and young women. They decided to benefit two separate centers for homeless children and victims of AIDS by tying, then donating, quilts.
In two hours, 20 youth produced five tie quilts, each one extremely unique. Everyone ended up developing new skills, growing closer, and experiencing the joy of service, all at the same time.