Gospel Story Finder

Not very long ago, my family and I had the opportunity to preside over the Australia Sydney Mission. I had come out of the Missionary Department, and I suppose my missionary views were very conservative. At any rate, as we began our work in the Australia Sydney Mission, we had some modest, but good, successes, and I felt comfortable about what we were doing—until President Kimball spoke to us. In his own manner and in his own way, he said, “Brother Dunn, Loren, we must all lengthen our stride.” And I got the message.
The message was that although we had made progress, yet before the Lord and before the prophet, it wasn’t enough. We went back, we redoubled our efforts; we found increased growth, but also we found increased strength and new stakes evolved because of those efforts. I don’t think the progress was so much because of us, but because of our desire to follow the prophet.

Like medicine and golf balls, new experiences are often hard to swallow. Take dancing.
Now you might not think a church youth dance is something to be afraid of, but for my friends and me, this one was different. It was our first.
Unfortunately, the bulk of our adolescent training to this point was in camp-outs and knot tying. Girls had scarcely begun to crack our vocabulary. We tried to look excited, but secretly we were scared stiff.
So when the music finally started, we found ourselves standing at the edge of the dance floor, staring straight ahead like timid zookeepers looking into an alligator pit. Just one false move and …
“Do you want to dance?”
Yipes! A girl I had known since first grade was standing in front of me in a new role: potential dance partner. What do I say? What do I do? I wanted to say yes, but I choked.
“Uh … thanks, but I’m just going to watch for a while.”
Rats! I couldn’t believe what I had just said. But while I was busy feeling sorry for myself, she turned to Rob, a friend of mine, and asked him. Incredibly, he said yes.
What courage! The rest of us watched in awe as the couple moved to the middle of the room. Though Rob wasn’t winning any awards for grace or style, it looked like he was actually having fun. And when the music changed, he asked someone else to dance.
Wow! He made it look easy, but my remaining friends and I would definitely need more experience before trying something that risky. Until then we would stick to safer jobs, like supporting the cultural hall walls.
After hours of indecision, the night finally ended. I had kept my position along the wall, but by holding out I had forfeited any chance of having a good time.
When the next dance came, it was a stake Halloween dance, so I could pretend to be as confident as the identity I was assuming. I chose to be Zorro, but as I walked in the hall carrying my sword and wearing my mom’s frilly white blouse, it didn’t look like I was going to leave my mark anywhere quick. I laid low by the refreshment table and tried to muster some courage.
Then suddenly a girl approached me. She was dressed as a princess.
“Do you want to dance?” She assured me she didn’t bite.
To this day I don’t know who said yes, me or Zorro, but the next thing I knew I was out there—talking and dancing (or at least flailing my arms and legs). I didn’t know exactly what to do, but no one seemed to care.
When the music stopped I was brimming with confidence. I cautiously walked up to a girl dressed as an angel, and feeling like I was on top of the Empire State Building, I closed my eyes and jumped.
“Do you want to dance?”
“Sure, let’s go!” she said.
Really? I could hardly believe it. I had landed on my feet. As we headed to the floor, I realized how much better it was to join in instead of hold back. I started searching for something witty to say. After all, I had nothing to lose.

In Malaysia, the idea of dating one’s spouse after marriage is almost unheard of. My husband and I first learned about this counsel from books and magazines and from American Church members who lived in our branch in the city of Kuala Lumpur. When we heard of the good that can come to a couple who continue to court each other after marriage, we decided to try this “foreign” idea.
In the beginning it was easy for us to spend an evening together because we had no children to worry about. However, when our children began to come one after another, we had to devise new ways to date each other. Because finding a baby-sitter for the evening is difficult, we have had many dates at home after the children are in bed. These home dates are in no way inferior to those we occasionally have outside our home.
We have found a number of activities we enjoy doing together. Sometimes we watch a videocassette while munching snacks and sipping soft drinks, just as we would at the movie theater. Other nights we play computer or board games. Our evenings spent in these activities always end with laughter.
One regular activity is putting together our family photographs on a large poster. Later we frame the finished poster and hang it on our stairway wall. We now have quite a few posters, so we rotate them from time to time. Evenings spent making posters are not only fruitful, but they also bring warm and sentimental feelings to our hearts.
One Valentine’s Day I prepared a candlelit dinner for two. With soft music in the background, the atmosphere was truly romantic. Dating each other regularly has helped increase the romance in our marriage.
Our list of activities for home dates continues to grow. We have found that dating each other is about finding ways to spend time together and about taking time to build and nourish each other. When days are difficult and challenging, I look forward to our home dates when we can spend time together just talking.
My husband and I have found this “foreign” idea to be of great help in strengthening our marriage.

We have time to develop a variety of talents and interests. During my medical training, I didn’t have a very generous income. One year, I decided to make all of my Christmas presents myself. Searching for ideas, I bought a paperback book on batik (the art of dyeing designs on fabric). To my delight and surprise, I discovered an undeveloped artistic talent. The art gallery owner who framed the batiks I had made for presents liked them so much he invited me to produce a one-man show! With brisk sales from the show and subsequent commissions, I not only supported myself during my residency but saved enough for a partial down payment on a house.

Mara buttoned her skirt and looked in the mirror. It felt funny to wear church clothes on a Saturday, but this was a special Saturday. It was general conference!
“Are you excited for the women’s session?” Mak (Mom) asked. She brushed Mara’s hair with quick, gentle strokes. “I want you to try to listen as much as you can.”
“Yes! I hope they tell pioneer stories!” Mara liked those best.
“Maybe they will,” Mak said. “Did you know your dad is a pioneer?”
Mara was confused. Her dad had never pulled a handcart.
“How is he a pioneer?” she asked.
Mak nodded toward the window, toward the river. “He was fishing there when he met the missionaries. He was the first one in his family to get baptized,” Mak said. “That makes him a pioneer! Now let’s go find your grandmother.”
Yiay (Grandma) was waiting for them in the front room. Mara’s family and her grandparents all lived together. Yiay helped take care of Mara after school while her parents worked. Now Yiay stood by the moped, the big motorized scooter that carried them around the city.
“The Church has only been in Cambodia for 25 years,” Mak told Mara as she opened the door and pushed the moped onto the street. “So we’re all pioneers. Even you!”
“How am I a pioneer?” Mara wondered as she got on the moped. Mak drove the moped, with Yiay in back and Mara in the middle. Mara held on tight as they zigged down the crowded street.
As they passed a café, the smell of tea wafted over them. Almost everyone here drank tea. But Mara didn’t. She followed the Word of Wisdom. Mara grinned. That’s one way she was a pioneer!
As the moped turned a corner, Mara saw a wat, a Buddhist temple. The red pointed roof rose above the other buildings. Monks with shaved heads and orange robes sat studying in the courtyard.
Mara knew that most people in Cambodia were Buddhist. They didn’t believe in Jesus Christ. But Mara did. “That’s another way I’m a pioneer,” thought Mara. And today she would get to listen to the prophet!
As the moped turned into the church parking lot, Mara saw lots of women arriving. Some had walked or ridden mopeds. Others arrived in tuk tuks, small carriages pulled by a motorbike. Many of the women wore dresses or plain skirts, like Mara did. And some wore sampots, beautiful long skirts made of colorful patterned fabrics.
Mara, Mak, and Yiay sat down in the chapel with the other women. Conference had actually happened a whole week ago in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. But now the people in Cambodia would be able to watch the broadcast in Khmer. Mara spoke both English and Khmer at home, and she also learned French in school. But many Cambodians just spoke Khmer.
The first speaker didn’t tell any stories about pioneers. But then the second speaker told a story about walking up a steep dirt path on her way home from school. It was called the “boys’ trail,” and sometimes she would take off her shoes and walk barefoot. She wanted to do hard things so she could be like a pioneer! Mara smiled as she thought about all the ways she was a pioneer.
The last speaker was the prophet. He stood tall. Mara listened extra closely. “I invite you to read the Book of Mormon between now and the end of the year,” he said. “The heavens will open for you. The Lord will bless you.”
Mara knew it wouldn’t be easy to read the whole Book of Mormon. She looked at the women around her. All of them had chosen to follow Jesus Christ. All of them had come tonight to listen to the prophet. She would follow the prophet, just as they did. She would be a pioneer!

Fireworks and firecrackers, brightly colored nativity scenes, and feasts featuring stuffed tamales—that’s Christmas in Guatemala. As a full-time missionary I found the traditions very different from my own traditions in the United States. I was homesick and thought my Christmas would be miserable.
My companion, Sister Anaya, said we would find joy on Christmas by serving others. She suggested that we spend the morning singing at the hospital, and we invited other missionaries to join us.
As we approached the entrance, I watched the people waiting in line to see their loved ones. Their faces were sad, their sandal-clad feet dusty, their clothes faded. We waited with them. When we were finally allowed to enter the building, we walked down narrow halls with flaking green paint and cement floors. The smells of medicines and sickness overwhelmed me.
In the dim light I could see sick patients on beds in a large room with little ventilation or privacy. They lay there, some with bandages, some with IVs, some hooked up to machines to help them breathe. Some moaned quietly. Others slept. I wondered why we had come. Most in our small group of missionaries stood in the doorway, not knowing what to do.
But not Sister Anaya. She went to each bed, greeting those who were sick, asking them how they felt, and wishing them a merry Christmas. Her boldness reminded the rest of us why we had come, and we started to sing Christmas carols, softly at first but more confidently as we continued. Some of the patients smiled, some just lay there and didn’t seem to notice, and some hummed along.
Sister Anaya, singing with a hymnbook in her hand, approached a woman who was wrapped in bandages. The woman began to cry quietly, and my companion lovingly stroked her hair. Through her tears the woman spoke, “You are angels. You are angels.”
I will never forget Sister Anaya’s response. “No, you are not hearing angels,” she replied. “You are hearing Latter-day Saints.”
But I also think of Sister Anaya. I remember her encouraging us to sing at the hospital and how we found joy by spreading joy. I remember her stroking the hair of that sick woman. And I remember that I don’t need to be an angel to serve others. I can serve them as a Latter-day Saint.

This is the life! I found myself thinking as I stood in left field in my baggy white uniform, enjoying the sunshine and the scent of freshly cut grass. Little League baseball fans filled the stands, where hot dogs and drinks were selling for a quarter.
“Think!”
I was quickly brought back into the game as my coach stepped out of the dugout and yelled to our team. Oh yeah. I’m in a baseball game. A good hitter from the opposing team was approaching the plate, and coach wanted us to be ready. We knew from last week’s baseball practice that Think! meant “Ask yourself, What would I do if the ball were hit to me?”
My 11-year-old brain went to work. Let’s see … no outs, a runner on second base. If the ball comes to me in the air, I’ll catch it, check the runner on second to see if he’ll tag up, and throw to the second baseman. If the ball is on the ground, the runner might advance, and I’ll probably throw to third.
Now I know exactly what to do. With my knees slightly bent and my eyes fixed on the batter, I was ready for anything. The pitcher wound up and threw one right over the plate. I heard a loud crack as wood met ball. A line drive was flying straight towards me! In a split second, my mental computer judged the ball’s speed and trajectory and determined it would land just a few yards from where I was standing.
If I hustle, I can catch it. As I began running, out of the corner of my eye I saw the runner take off for third base. What was he doing? Didn’t he think I could catch it on the fly? On my fourth stride, I raised my mitt and felt the ball smack my left hand. In one motion I took the ball out of my mitt and threw it as hard as I could to second base.
I did it! I got the runner out! Or did I? Unfortunately, our second baseman forgot to think. He wasn’t on his base! He was just standing there watching. The ball bounced on the dirt infield, but luckily he scooped up the ball and stepped on the bag just in time to get the runner, who forgot to tag up.
Coach leaped from the dugout and shouted loud enough for all the players and spectators to hear, “Nice job, Bytheway!” A big Boy Scout smile spread across my face as the cheering crowd recognized the little kid in left field who just made a double play. I owed it all to my coach. He reminded me to think.

I began to look for people who had cultivated faith and made it a power in their lives, and I discovered many examples. In Cochabamba I heard a woman bear her testimony of tithing. The preceding month, after paying tithing and major expenses, she had only a hundred pesos (equivalent to $1 [U.S.]) for food for the month. She didn’t know how she would survive, but she had faith that the Lord would provide.
On the way to the market to see what she could buy, she unexpectedly met her niece, who asked her to accompany her to buy cloth. The woman went, not mentioning her embarrassing situation.
As she was waiting for her niece to make her purchase, a man walking by called to her, “Señora, your money!”
Puzzled, she turned to see the man pointing to her purse. As she looked down, she saw one thousand pesos on top of her purse! She had not seen or heard anyone walk near her. The money seemed to have come from nowhere.
That day, her niece invited her to eat lunch with her, and she gratefully accepted. One of her sisters offered her an extra bag of vegetables and potatoes, and another sister also shared generously with her. She had plenty during the month.

When the Kaysville Utah East Stake youth committee decided to stage a musical in honor of the Bicentennial, they didn’t expect the play’s nonmember author to fly from New York for the production. But nothing could have given them any more cause for enthusiasm and potential stage fright.
The young people voted to put on Tall Tom Jefferson, complete with youth orchestra. After writing to request the musical score, they were told there was no complete orchestration available to them. One of the adult leaders decided to call the New York publishing company. She soon found out she was talking to the play’s author, Ruth Roberts. Mrs. Roberts was told the production would be staged by a Church group, and her interest in Mormons and Utah increased. Of course, she was invited to attend the Kaysville performances and see Utah. Mrs. Roberts offered to lend the group the score used by a professional orchestra in England, but added she thought the arrangement much too difficult for high school-age players.
Within days, over 1,000 pages of music—23 pounds—reached Kaysville, and with them came a letter from Mrs. Roberts accepting the group’s invitation to attend their production. The young people would get the opportunity to show her their acting and musical finesse.
Meanwhile the cast was getting ready to introduce Jefferson and his friends to their friends. With more than 150 cast members, making the costumes kept wives, mothers, and sisters busy with their needles. The chorus found the orchestration and choral books to be in different keys with syncopated tempos. A major transposition overhaul put the two in step with each other and the cast.
On opening night Mrs. Roberts was there; and the local high school gym was full of hoop skirts, three-corner hats, waistcoats, and frilly petticoats, along with anxious moms and dads and restless little brothers. But it didn’t take very long before everyone settled down to enjoy an evening of early American history a lot less painful than anyone could recall it ever having been before.

I am a banana seller and a graduate of policy studies and administration from the University of Calabar, Nigeria.
I worked with my certificate as a degree holder but was underemployed, my salary at the end of the month was not enough to take care of my basic needs so I quit the job to sell bananas.
When I was introduced to the self-reliance devotional, I found it very interesting and I joined the Starting and Growing My Business group.
During my group meeting, I learned a lot of principles that enabled me to start my own business.
Some of the principles I learned that have made my business successful are:
Payment of tithes.
Fasting and praying for the progress of my business.
Spiritual self-reliance (my faith has grown tremendously in the Lord)
Networking for clients (I have an umbrella shop. I also hawk my goods)
I have an expense book for cash in and cash out reports.
I have developed daily savings.
I have a salary from my business.
Now I can afford my basic needs, provide for those around me, and have enough time to plan for myself and my business.
The experience I gained during my group meeting has blessed my life, and I have encouraged everyone around me to join any of the self-reliance groups to also experience a change in their lives.
I may not be fully self-reliant now, but from my efforts, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

One Sunday, my granddaughter Diana, who is four years old, was sitting next to her father at church. Diana sat reverently, enjoying the comfort of her father’s arm holding her close to him. However, when the bishop stood up and announced the sacrament hymn, Diana gently lifted her father’s arm from off her shoulder and placed it in his lap. Then she sat up straight and folded her arms. She looked over at her father and encouraged him to do the same.
Diana’s message to her father was perfectly clear. She was telling him to turn his complete and total attention to the Savior. This is the message a reverent attitude always conveys, and when reverent attitudes abound, reverent behavior will always flourish. I pray that, like Diana, we may all strive to develop reverent attitudes so that we may serve God reverently and with godly fear (see Heb. 12:28).

I have been a member of the Church for seven years. During that time, I have always known that this is the only true Church of the Lord Jesus Christ, but at one time in my life, I wasn’t very active.
The problem started when our family moved to a new town. It took us a few months to identify the location of the meetinghouse we were supposed to go to and a few more weeks to start attending. I wasn’t very excited about the change, and after a few weeks, I stopped attending.
One day I received an unexpected but welcome visit from my bishop. He invited me to come back to church on Sundays and to attend seminary. I decided to accept these invitations.
A few weeks after I started going back to church, the bishop introduced the Duty to God program to me. He explained what it consisted of, and I became interested in starting on it.
I started filling out and completing the goals in the pamphlets. I began to realize that the Duty to God program was helping me change my life for the better. I became more active in the Church and loved going to seminary. I am trying to live the standards of the Church better, and I love to read the scriptures and the Liahona.
When I started the Duty to God program, I set goals such as going on a mission and attending the Latter-day Saint preparatory school Benemérito de las Américas, along with many other goals. Last fall, I received the Duty to God Award and the Melchizedek Priesthood, and I’ll be going on a mission soon.
I thank my Heavenly Father each day for giving me the chance to change and become a worthy member of His Church. I am grateful for the programs and leaders of the Church that helped me change.

Shortly after his victory as a middleweight champion, Martin was again injured in a life-changing automobile accident. Because of his injuries, he felt like he could not continue with his boxing career. He was discouraged and felt a loss in life. By this time, Martin and Nae were the parents of two young boys, Marvin, and Julius.
He continued to stay fit and to work, providing for his family. One day in 1995, the humbled Martin was assigned to deliver a copy machine to a local church. It was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While making the delivery, he met missionaries who introduced him to the restored gospel and the Book of Mormon. They gave Martin a copy of the Book of Mormon and started teaching him.
Martin enjoyed reading the Book of Mormon and recognized the Spirit and direction it provided in his life. A few months later, after receiving a personal testimony, Martin Biney was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. As a new member of the Church, Martin attended every week, but for many years, his wife and children stayed home. Brother Biney states, “After I was baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt blessed. I had more confidence and felt impressed to go back to boxing.”
The Lord blessed Martin and, in 1997, at the age of 34, Martin Biney again became the middleweight boxing champion in Japan.
Martin’s wife, Nae, later decided to learn more about the Church, and in 2008 she was baptized. She and Martin were sealed in the Sapporo Japan Temple in 2021. They love the gospel and enjoy doing things together.
From the example of Martin Biney and his wife, Nae, we gain spiritual eyes to see that people everywhere, even in countries that are not predominantly Christian, there are those who hear the Savior’s voice and follow Him.
Martin and Nae serve as faithful members of the Urawa Ward in the Tokyo Japan Stake. The Bineys love serving in the Primary organization and find great joy in teaching the gospel to the children in the ward. He continues his passion for the sport of boxing as a referee and as a judge and shares his testimony of the gospel by his example to those he associates with, both in and out of the boxing ring!
His story helps us to see that we all are children of a loving Heavenly Father and that He is working to gather us together before the Savior’s return.

Covenants include promises, “even of life eternal.” All things will work together for our good if we remember our covenants. They must be made and kept to fully receive the promises they provide. Love for the Savior and remembering our covenants will help us keep them. Partaking of the sacrament is one way to remember them. Another way is to attend the temple often. I remember a young married couple in South America who wanted to separate because they could not get along. A priesthood leader counseled them to attend the temple and pay specific attention to the words and promises of the covenants made there. They did so and their marriage was saved. The power of our covenants is greater than any challenge we face or we may face.

Eighteen-year-old Shaun Larsen isn’t exactly small. He stands six feet, four inches tall and weighs more than 250 pounds. He spent most of last summer lifting weights and running to get in shape for football. It seems incredible that anybody would refer to Shaun as a “mini” anything.

But in the Oregon Portland Mission office one morning, that’s the way Shaun was describing himself.

“I’m a minimissionary,” he said. “But I give it everything I’ve got.”

He smiled as he explained. “My dad’s the mission president,” Shaun said. “He’s been asking the teenagers in the mission to help the missionaries. One of the most successful programs has been assigning the young men who are 16 or older to accompany the full-time missionaries for a short period of time—a few days, a week, or a month. So when I finished high school and came up here to live with my parents, I got invited to serve a minimission too.”

When Shaun wasn’t working with the elders full-time, he spent an evening with them now and then on “splits” (where a missionary companionship divides with members) or shared his testimony when the elders were teaching. “For a whole summer, I was learning that there are ways for each of us to share the gospel. It really opened my eyes,” Shaun said.

Shaun doesn’t live in Portland anymore. He’s attending Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho, and just received a call to serve in the Ecuador Guayaquil Mission. “Working with the missionaries in Portland was good preparation for me,” Shaun said. “I know some of the challenges I’ll probably face, and I’ve seen some of the rewards. How can you not get excited about seeing somebody baptized?”

One day I saw my oldest son, Wilford, preparing a tithing envelope. He was probably around five years old at the time. Wilford didn’t earn any money, so I wondered why he was paying tithing. When I asked him, he told me he was actually paying a fast offering.
Wilford didn’t have much money of his own. But he was still excited to pay a fast offering.
I was impressed by this act of kindness. I asked him why he had decided to do this.
Wilford answered, “I don’t need anything. But I know others do.” He knew his money would help people. He was very happy about that.
This simple experience taught me a good lesson: children are really in tune with the Spirit and have a natural Christlike love. Wilford had something he didn’t need and knew it would be helpful to other people. He was willing to make the sacrifice.
Saving money is good. But my young son taught me another lesson through his example. By listening to the Spirit, we can bless the lives of others when we share what we have.

I was born in Brazil with rickets—a disease characterized by distorted bones. At 19 I weighed 50 kilos (111 lbs) and was 1.64 meters tall. As a result, I was not accepted into the military, so I began looking for ways to improve my physical condition. I began a series of exercises and ate a balanced diet.
During this time, I met the missionaries. I became acquainted with the Church and learned about the commandments, including the Word of Wisdom. It was just what I needed. It gave me guidelines of foods to eat and a list of impure items to avoid, namely tobacco and strong drinks. By reading the Doctrine and Covenants, I learned about the need for rest and sleep (see D&C 88:124).
I gained strength and weighed 78 kilos (172 lbs). I became a champion weight lifter. I also did judo and swam. Today at age 73 I am a marathon runner and have finished 30 marathons. In 2005 and 2006, I was second in my age class in Brazil. I have excellent health, and I am very happy.
I am grateful to our Heavenly Father for giving us laws that, if obeyed, will bring us blessings of health.
Antonio Olívio de Oliveira, São Paulo, Brazil

Juanita was sick, so Sarah walked home from school by herself. She missed her friend because they always had so much to talk about. Still, Sarah enjoyed figuring out where she was by the sounds around her. She could hear dogs barking and children playing in their front yards when she stopped to visit her neighbor Mrs. Bartelli and play with Baby Andrew.
“Hello, Sarah.” Mrs. Bartelli sounded tired and tense when she opened the door. “I hope that Andy will be good for you. He’s been fussy all afternoon.”
Sarah wondered what was wrong. She could tell by Andrew’s delighted giggles, though, that he was happy to see her. She lifted him out of his crib and sniffed. “Should I change him, Mrs. Bartelli?”
“Yes, if you would, please.”
Sarah felt around for a diaper and washcloth, then laid Andrew down. He giggled and squirmed. “I’m glad that these are disposable diapers,” she told him. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally stick a pin into such a wiggly boy!”
As Sarah finished changing Andrew, she heard Mrs. Bartelli talking on the telephone.
“Yes, I understand.” Mrs. Bartelli sighed. “Well, I’ll call you again. Good-bye.”
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Bartelli?” Sarah asked.
“Tonight is our fifth wedding anniversary. Juanita was going to tend Andy for us, but she has measles. And no one else is available on such short notice.”
Sarah had seldom heard a grown-up so close to tears. “Mrs. Bartelli, let me tend Andrew,” she suggested. “He knows me, and I can do a good job.”
After a long silence Mrs. Bartelli replied, “I don’t know, Sarah. Being totally responsible for Andy at night is not like playing with him while I’m here.”
“I know I can do it,” Sarah assured her. “I can change his clothes and diaper and make his bottle. I have all the emergency numbers memorized. I’m very careful. It shouldn’t matter that I’m blind. If I have any trouble, I can call Mom. She’s just two doors away.”
Mrs. Bartelli thought for a moment, then agreed.
“Thank you!” Sarah excitedly hugged the baby.
That night Sarah settled down on the sofa to listen to a tape of her homework. Andrew had taken his bottle and had gone to sleep quickly while she rocked him, and now she needed only to check him occasionally. Mrs. Bartelli had said that she and her husband would be home late—dinner, a play, and ice cream afterward would keep them out until at least midnight.
As Sarah listened to her history lesson, something kept bothering her. Finally she stopped the tape and concentrated. No, Andrew isn’t crying. It’s a smell, like something burning. She stood up and sniffed, turning her head to discover where the smell came from. Guiding herself down the hall by brushing her hand along the wall, she went through the kitchen to the door of the utility room, where the washer and dryer were. The smell of smoke was strong here, and it made her cough. She felt the closed door with her hand. It was hot!
Her heart pounding, Sarah prayed, “Please, Heavenly Father, help me get Andrew out all right.” With trembling fingers she felt her way back through the house to the baby’s room. She quickly wrapped him in a blanket and left the house. Walking carefully, feeling for toys on the sidewalk, she was soon home.
Sarah unlocked the door and called for her mother. There was no answer. She almost panicked before remembering that her mother had talked about going shopping. Sarah wasted no more time. Shifting a waking Andrew onto one hip, she quickly punched 9-1-1 on the telephone. She explained the situation and gave the dispatcher the Bartelli’s address.
After hanging up, Sarah hurried back outside. Andrew made small, inquiring baby noises as she felt her way along the sidewalk. The sound of a siren startled him, but she quickly hushed his crying.
When she could hear the fire truck pull up, she called out, “The fire is in the utility room. Go in the front door and through the living room. It’s to the left of the kitchen.”
For the next few minutes the sounds of booted feet and men calling to one another were all that she could hear, and she wondered what was happening. Then one of the men approached her. “Are you the one who reported the fire?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m the baby-sitter. I smelled smoke, and the door felt hot, so I left the house and called from my home. It’s just down there.” She pointed.
“Good work! The iron was left on, and it started a fire. The utility room was damaged, but because you discovered the fire so early, the rest of the house wasn’t harmed at all.”
People from the neighborhood were beginning to crowd around to see why the fire truck was there. Sarah heard familiar footsteps, and her mother hurried up. “What’s going on, honey?”
The fireman explained about the fire once more, and Sarah’s mother gathered her up in a big hug, baby and all. “You did well, sweetheart. Pretty exciting for a first baby-sitting job, wasn’t it?”
Sarah smiled. She had done a good job of baby-sitting all by herself—without her mom, or Juanita, or anybody else helping her! But there was one more thing that she needed to do. “We should call the Bartellis, Mom. I memorized the phone numbers of the places where they’ll be tonight.”
“Good thought,” Sarah’s mother said.
Sarah smiled up at her mother. “Mom, do you think that Mrs. Bartelli will let me baby-sit again?”
“She’ll be missing out if she doesn’t rehire the best baby-sitter that she’s likely to ever have!”

In October 2020, President Nelson said, “Anytime we do anything that helps anyone—on either side of the veil—to make and keep their covenants with God, we are helping to gather Israel.”1
This message from our prophet came to my heart with so much power, and our family wanted to fill this purpose.
A few days before general conference, my youngest son, Tomas, had his dental evaluation for his mission papers. After some delays, he received his call to serve in the England Leeds Mission.
On Sunday 18 March 2021, he gave his farewell speech. He focused his message on loving the Lord and our neighbours, and how important this is in missionary work. Because of some COVID-19 restrictions, it was only Elder Tomas Flores, Daniel (my other son, who has Down syndrome), and me on the stand with the bishopric. My husband and my daughter stayed with the congregation.
Before Elder Tomas Flores started his talk, I told him that Daniel was probably going to follow him—and he did. He stood up behind Tomas. It was like Daniel was his guardian angel. In that moment, I had the feeling that Daniel also needed to serve a mission. After church, I shared my feeling with my husband, and he had had the exact feeling at the same time.
On 23 March 2022, Elder Daniel Flores was set apart to be a service missionary in the Leeds England, Manchester, and Scotland/Ireland missions. He loves to be a missionary. Although he is mostly nonverbal, we communicate with our eyes. He is always willing to help everyone. Most of his service is within service projects in the ward, but he also serves taking pictures for BillionGraves. Our whole family is having a spiritual time with him during this.
Elder Flores really loves to serve others, and he loves Jesus Christ.
Both brothers are serving the Lord at the same time, in different missions, but with the same purpose: to bring people to Christ by serving as the Saviour would.

It was a considerable change to go from one of the nation’s premier universities located in a large metropolitan area to a small, private, two-year school in the rural farm town of Rexburg, Idaho. But it was a wonderful time for the Eyrings. It provided an opportunity for the family to grow closer to one another. The two older boys, whose school was near the campus, would come to his office each day at noon to have lunch with him. But it was more than that. “At Ricks I worked with a dedicated faculty and staff. I looked into the faces of those wholesome young people of faith and intelligence who were so open and friendly and determined to serve the Lord, and I was deeply impressed.”
“We loved the people in Rexburg,” Kathy says of that time. “They were wonderful, faithful Latter-day Saints. And I knew it was what Hal should be doing.”
While he was there, even though he was president, he couldn’t pass up a chance to follow one of his great loves: he taught religion classes with one of the other instructors, going through all four scripture courses before he was through. He also taught a young adult Sunday School class. A recent letter to the Church magazine tells of one young man’s experience in that class. “I was drifting, being a bit rebellious,” he wrote. Then he and his friends began attending Brother Eyring’s class. It was the influence he needed. He went on a mission, married in the temple, and has remained active since then. “Elder Eyring probably has no idea how much he affected so many of us,” the letter concludes. “It is just the quiet, powerful influence of a great disciple of Christ.”