Gospel Story Finder

Just as a little child starts to develop a sense of identity as he or she repeatedly hears a name, I believe our names are important to our identity always. As a young mother I returned to take a class from the university I had previously attended and found naturally that things were very much changed from the time when I had begun my studies. I didn’t know anyone. One day one of my past professors came into the room, noticed me, and said, “Janette Callister, how nice to see you.” She turned to my current professor and said she remembered me as a good student. I still remember the good feeling I had that somebody really knew me and remembered me for good.

What parents would not rejoice to have sons like the two missionaries for whom an older widow volunteered to provide lunch. After a few visits, they stopped on the way to her home and bought a bouquet of flowers to give to her as a token of thanks for the lunches. When they gave the flowers to her, the sister looked shocked and then began to cry. The elders thought they had done something wrong and began to apologize. The widow stopped them and said that no one had ever given her flowers during her entire life, not even her husband when he was alive. She beamed with delight during the lunch and then asked the elders to wait one more minute. She presented them with the name and address of one of her best friends and asked them to please teach the friend’s family. The family accepted the gospel wholeheartedly and proved to be the best family baptism those two missionaries had.

One day when I was feeding Elvis he got loose because I wasn’t watching him carefully. My mom and I closed the door to my room right away and started looking for him. We couldn’t find Elvis no matter how hard we looked. I got the idea to pray. Even though it was my fault for letting him get out, I knew that Heavenly Father could help me find him. I prayed every day, but I also kept looking in my room. I kept my door closed and put a towel in front of it.
After two weeks I still hadn’t found Elvis. He had to be getting very hungry. I knew that if I kept praying I would find him. I just wanted to find him while he was still alive. Finally my prayers were answered as I heard all three of my sisters screaming. Elvis wasn’t in my room after all. He was in one of my sisters’ rooms. My mom helped me catch him and put him back in his cage. I was so happy that I found him. I know that Heavenly Father answers our prayers even if sometimes it takes a long time.Matthew J., age 9, Virginia

More than 200 youth from the Las Cruces New Mexico and El Paso Texas Stakes came together last summer for one purpose—to help those in need. Armed with gloves, water bottles, and sunscreen, they came eager to serve.
Some of the youth painted houses, some moved mounds of gravel, some pulled weeds, mowed lawns, and pruned trees and bushes, while others cleaned up loads of garbage. In all, 4 churches and 57 homes were transformed and beautified during the two-day “Helping Hands” youth conference. Rebecca Daw, a member of the youth committee that organized the conference, said “Service helps both the giver and the receiver. It helps us become better, stronger, more loving people. We need to be out doing stuff, doing hard work.”
Of the 57 families that benefited from the service projects, 52 were not members of the Church. By the time the service projects ended the second day, 7 of these families had requested copies of the Book of Mormon. Along with all the service projects, the youth also enjoyed food, activities, and a closing fireside with a slideshow and testimonies on the second day of the conference.

As I was preparing this talk, I received an unexpected email from someone in the process of repenting and desiring to return to the Church. His former wife was still suffering from the loss “of [their] eternal marriage, [difficulties with the children], the loss of financial security, … not [being] quite able to keep up with expenses, [and] the deeply suffocating feelings of being betrayed.”

He shared with me how his priesthood leader “felt impressed to [ask him] to prayerfully consider what [more he could do for his former wife and children].” With permission, I share a part of his email:

“I [first] thought the [money] I gave up in the divorce decree was more than generous, but my branch president encouraged me to fast and pray about it. …

“Initially, I struggled with the idea of further restitution. Since my sins weren’t financial, I wondered what a ‘generous restitution’ truly meant … [but] I soon realized it wasn’t just about money.

“My priesthood leaders met with [my former wife] and my children and realized they were still struggling and hadn’t healed. …

“My new goal was to move forward with faith. … I simply expressed my desire to help with no strings attached. … I decided to [send my former wife a specific amount] per paycheck, which was a significant portion of my net pay. Just before making the first payment, the Lord [impressed upon my mind that I needed] to pay [twice that amount].

“I’ve learned that restitution isn’t just about money. It’s about humbly dedicating my life to the Lord. … The money is to help replace what I took from my family due to my poor choices. It’s about making and keeping promises without expecting anything in return and helping her not worry about bills so she can seek the Spirit.”

Your efforts to restore what you have broken may have nothing to do with money, but as you humbly counsel with the Lord, you may find there is more you can do.

Occasionally the group does have some free time during tours to use as it pleases. Oftentimes group members will sink into peaceful oblivion on the lawn of a chapel where they are to perform, but other times their free moments are spent in ways that attract at least as much attention as their performances.
Sandy Ord, a member of the group for the past two years, remembers a softball game where the boys challenged the girls on the lawn outside their motel. There’s nothing so unusual about that except for the fact the entire game was played without any equipment.
“We had the whole thing,” said Sandy, “umpire, cheerleaders, even a human scoreboard. And since there was no ball, you just pretended where to hit it. The girls were always hitting home runs, and, of course, we won.”

As I was growing up, I watched my family become strong in the gospel through their solid faith. I followed them, wanting to be strong in the gospel, and learned to live their teachings and work hard to develop faith in God. When I grew up, the time came for me to prove my faith in God. I applied for my passport and sent in my papers to serve a mission. I received my mission call within a month but not the passport. I waited more than 45 days but no result.
I served a mini mission while waiting for the passport. My mission president, President Karl E. Nelson, called me every morning and asked me for my passport status. I kept praying for my passport. I thought that Heavenly Father needed me to put in more effort, so I fasted and prayed. Then I felt inspired to meet the district collector even though I didn’t know who he was. With my mission president’s permission, I went to meet the district collector with my companion and submitted a petition for my passport, as my mission president had instructed. One thing I noticed was that the other officers were expecting a bribe, but I decided not to give even a single penny. I was going to serve God, and I knew that the prophet’s words were true and that what needed to happen would happen.
Now the time scheduled for me to go to the MTC and start my mission was close. There was only one week left. My faith was tested, whether I would be persistent in my decision or whether I would I give up. I never gave up. After much discouragement and many trials and temptations, I remembered the words of God: “Faith without works is dead”1 and “ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith”2. Finally, Heavenly Father blessed me to receive my passport and visa within four days and I was on my way to the MTC in Manila, the very day fixed by the prophet. Many times since, I have had trials of my faith, but I have tried to remain true to God and to what I was taught in my youth.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Mary Elizabeth Rollins loved the noise of the crisp, dry leaves under her shoes. Fall had arrived in Kirtland, Ohio. Mary Elizabeth bounded up the steps of the big white mercantile store where her uncle Sidney Gilbert worked. She loved the store with its kegs of molasses, bundles of herbs, and other interesting things for sale.
Mary Elizabeth entered the store just in time to hear a man telling Uncle Sidney of a new religion somewhere in New York.
“I’ve heard that a man claims to be a prophet and that he translated a book written in an ancient language from golden plates. It is called the Book of Mormon,” said the man.
Soon the whole town was buzzing with news of the Book of Mormon and its translator, the Prophet Joseph Smith.
It wasn’t long before Mary Elizabeth and her family were taught the gospel. She and her mother were among the first Kirtland residents to be baptized. Soon a branch was organized, with Brother Isaac Morley presiding over it.
Even though Mary Elizabeth had a testimony of the gospel, she had never read the Book of Mormon. It had only been printed a few months before. So when Brother Morley finally received a copy, Mary Elizabeth was excited to see the book.
One night, before a few members of the Church met at Brother Morley’s home, Mary Elizabeth gathered her courage and knocked on his door.
“Yes, Mary Elizabeth?” Brother Morley asked as he opened the door.
“Brother Morley, may I please see the Book of Mormon?”
He let her in and carefully handed her the small brown book. Mary Elizabeth felt a great desire to read it.
“May I please borrow the book?” she asked.
“My child,” Brother Morley said, “I have not read one chapter in it myself, and the brethren will want to see the book tonight at the meeting.”
Then, seeing Mary Elizabeth’s disappointment, Brother Morley said, “Well, if you bring the book back before breakfast tomorrow, you may take it. Do not let any harm come to it.”
That night Mary Elizabeth and her family took turns reading in the Book of Mormon until very late. Early the next day, Mary Elizabeth memorized 1 Nephi 1:1 before bringing the book back to Brother Morley.
“Well, you are here early. I guess you did not read much,” Brother Morley said.
Mary Elizabeth showed him how much she had read.
Brother Morley smiled, but said, “I do not believe you could even tell me a word of it.”
Mary Elizabeth recited the verse she had memorized and explained the story of Nephi and his family.
Brother Morley opened his mouth in surprise. “Child, you take this book back and finish it,” he said. “I can wait.”
Early in the year 1831, the Prophet Joseph Smith and his family moved to Kirtland. The first person Joseph visited was Brother Whitney, Uncle Sidney’s business partner, at their store. When Brother Whitney promptly introduced Joseph to Uncle Sidney’s family, Joseph was surprised to see the Book of Mormon.
“How did you get this book?” Joseph asked. “I sent it to Brother Morley several weeks ago.”
“My niece was bold enough to ask him to lend it to her,” Uncle Sidney explained.
“Where is your niece?” the Prophet asked.
Mary Elizabeth was called into the room. The Prophet looked at her closely, then walked up to her, laid his hands on her head, and gave her a blessing. It was the first blessing Mary Elizabeth ever received.
When he finished, Joseph said, “You may keep this book, Mary Elizabeth. I will get another for Brother Morley.”

Not long ago I woke up and prepared to study the scriptures. I picked up my smartphone and sat in a chair next to my bed with the intention of opening the Gospel Library app. I unlocked my phone and was just about to begin studying when I saw a half dozen notifications for text messages and emails that had come during the night. I thought, “I’ll quickly check those messages, and then I’ll get right to the scriptures.” Well, two hours later I was still reading text messages, emails, news briefs, and social media posts. When I realized what time it was, I frantically rushed to get ready for the day. That morning I missed my scripture study, and consequently I didn’t get the spiritual nourishment I was hoping for.

Over the years the Thomas brothers of the Hyderabad Fourth Branch have done a lot to set good examples for each other. As teenagers, they became members of the Church at the same time. They worked together to encourage their mother until she also joined the Church. Both brothers served in the India Bangalore Mission. Both helped comfort their mother when their father passed away. And both recently married.
Now Rejjie and his wife, Metilda, have been sealed in the temple, and Rennie and his wife, Keerthi, following their good example, soon will be.
“From the time I joined the Church, it has been a process of changing and improving, learning the plan of salvation and following it,” Rejjie says. “But the actual goal is to go back and live with Heavenly Father, our loving Father, who wants us to come back to Him so much that He gave us a Savior, His Son, Jesus Christ, to save us from sin and everlasting death. I’m grateful that the gospel of Jesus Christ changed me and my family, and going to the temple is the culmination of all of that.”
Rejjie explains that one of the challenges he and Metilda faced in getting their parents’ approval for marriage was that they are from different regions and speak different dialects. “But in the temple there are no differences,” he says, “and that was a great reminder for us.” He feels the future of India belongs to the young. “We are the ones who are going to make a difference,” he says, looking at Metilda. “That’s the kind of vision we both have. We need to conduct family home evenings, have family scripture study and family prayer, and stay focused on the temple. That is our future.”
Metilda agrees: “When I ask him how he can be so understanding and loving, he says it is because the gospel makes him better. On his mission he saw the example of the mission president treating his wife with respect and love. And in the temple we see that same pattern. As we show that same pattern in our lives and someday to our children, that influence will strengthen the Church in India.”

My parents made family time a priority when my two sisters and I were children. Now that we’re adults, this continues as part of our family culture. The time we spend together is fun and filled with traditions such as races and games, with events including a tortilla toss and bubble-blowing competition.
Growing up, I gained confidence spending time with my family and felt I was vital. I felt my contributions were wanted and needed. However, shortly after I returned from my mission, spending time together changed. The reason: my older sister married a few months before I returned home.
I was happy for her and excited to have a brother for the first time. But I noticed my parents started to treat my younger sister and me differently. I felt that because I was not married, I was pushed aside and treated like a child. Eventually, I spoke with my parents about the changes in our family. We concluded that our individual situations have nothing to do with our worth. Everyone is essential in our family, regardless of age, gender, financial situation, talents, or marital status.
My mind opened to the idea that our Heavenly Father loves and appreciates us as individuals. Heavenly Father wants us to establish and nurture strong family relationships, but our individual worth does not come from our family. Because we are beloved children of God and part of His family, our worth is infinite and eternal. Jesus Christ demonstrated this by giving His life for each of us. (See Doctrine and Covenants 18:10–11.)

One Sunday, my Primary teacher taught us about faith. She helped us plant sunflower seeds. I took mine home and planted them in the flowerbed. It took a long time, but we got a lot of rain and sun, and the sunflowers grew taller than our house! Our faith can grow big like the sunflowers. We need to pray, read the scriptures, and keep the commandments. My mom says that if I give my faith the things it needs, it will grow tall and strong like my sunflowers.

It was in this town of Zwickau that my grandmother was invited by an elderly single woman to attend church with her. The setting was still desperate—the war was just over. Food was scarce, and so were all other goods, like coal to heat our homes or cook our meals. Houses had been destroyed, and a family was fortunate if they were all still alive and had a roof over their heads.
My grandmother accepted the invitation of this dear single sister to attend sacrament meeting with her. This act of kindness might appear small and not too hard to do, but it changed our lives forever.
We attended church in a cold, cramped, backroom meeting place with electricity often failing, leaving us in the dark. But at the same time, this room was filled with the Spirit, and the divine light of the message of the restored gospel was in great abundance, and we were surrounded by the love, friendship, and helping hands of the dear members.
All of our family joined the Church. Because I was only six at the time, I was baptized two years later in a local indoor swimming pool by one of the Church leaders in our branch. I will always remember the feeling of warmth, safety, and importance as I came out of the water after this sacred ordinance had been performed.

“What a day,” Tyler thought as he finished reading his basketball book and got out of bed to kneel for his evening prayer.
“You did a good job today,” Alicia told him as she peeked her head into his room on her way to bed. Tyler was glad she said it, but he didn’t feel he had made any big decision. Sure, he had made a good choice, but it came so naturally that it didn’t really feel like much of a choice at all.
The day had started out like a normal Saturday. Tyler walked a block to the neighborhood playground where there were always kids to play with. Some days he played soccer, some days he played basketball, and other days he just played tag.
When Tyler got to the park, he saw a few boys huddled in the little red clubhouse near the jungle gym.
When Tyler crawled inside, he saw Anthony, Marcus, and Stephen—all boys he had played with before. He started talking with them about things like video games and what their Halloween costumes were going to be.
Then Anthony pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. “Hey, guys. Look at this picture of a girl I took from one of my dad’s magazines,” he said.
Marcus and Stephen moved behind Anthony to see the picture. Tyler didn’t move.
“Whoa!” Marcus said. His eyes got as big as marbles.
Stephen’s cheeks turned red. He slapped his hand over his open mouth and started to laugh. Anthony and Marcus laughed too.
A chill ran up Tyler’s back. He knew the picture was something he should not look at. He turned toward the door and crawled out of the clubhouse.
Anthony crawled out after him.
“Tyler, come look at this!” Anthony said.
“No,” Tyler answered. “I don’t look at those kinds of pictures.”
“Why not?” Anthony said. His voice was so loud Tyler could hear it echo off the hills behind the playground. “Are you scared?”
The other boys laughed.
Anthony ran toward Tyler. As he got closer, Tyler saw Anthony’s hand moving upward. Tyler closed his eyes. He felt the paper brush against his face.
“Come on, look!” Anthony said as he laughed. “Look!”
Tyler jerked his head away from the paper. It didn’t matter to him how much he was teased or how much the other boys laughed. He knew he should not look.
So he ran.
Tyler ran from one side of the playground to the other, but Anthony was right behind him, holding up the picture and laughing.
Because Tyler’s home was nearby, he knew the best way to get Anthony to stop chasing him was to run home. As Tyler began to run home, he saw something he had not noticed before. His sister, Alicia, was standing by the swings. As he ran past her, she turned toward Anthony.
“Leave him alone!” she yelled. Anthony, who was already slowing down, stopped and walked back to the playground.
When Tyler ran through his front door, he made his way to the living room and crashed on the couch. Alicia walked in a few minutes later. “Don’t worry about those guys,” she said. “You did great.”
As Tyler lay in bed thinking about what had happened to him that day, he started to realize why not looking at the picture had been an easy choice for him. Tyler had already learned that he should not look at immodest pictures. Maybe today was the first time anyone had tried to show him a bad picture, but he had already made up his mind a long time ago.

Long years ago a severe drought struck the Salt Lake Valley. The commodities at the storehouse on Welfare Square had not been of their usual quality, nor were they found in abundance. Many products were missing, especially fresh fruit. As I was a young bishop, worrying about the needs of the many widows in my ward, my prayer one evening is especially sacred to me. I pleaded for these widows, who were among the finest women I knew in mortality and whose needs were simple and conservative, because they had no resources on which they might rely.
The next morning I received a call from a ward member, a proprietor of a produce business situated in our ward. “Bishop,” he said, “I would like to send a semitrailer filled with oranges, grapefruit, and bananas to the bishops’ storehouse to be given to those in need. Could you make arrangements?” Could I make arrangements! The storehouse was alerted, and then each bishop was telephoned and the entire shipment distributed. Bishop Jesse M. Drury, that beloved welfare pioneer and storekeeper, said he had never witnessed a day like it before. He described the occasion with one word: “Wonderful!”
The wife of that generous businessman is today a widow. I know the decision her husband and she made has brought her sweet memories and comforting peace to her soul.

We started out like this:
“Let’s make a movie,” said the members of the bishops youth committee.
“Great idea,” said the ever-enthusiastic drama specialist. “Uh … which end of the camera do you point?”
Fortunately today’s automatic camera equipment is designed with a medium I.Q. in mind. You don’t have to be Stanley Kramer to come out with something on the film. Speaking of equipment, snoop around the ward a little. Especially after Christmas. You can probably unearth both a camera and cameraman. If worse comes to absolute worst, you can usually rent equipment from a camera store.
You will probably want your colossal extravaganza to run more than three minutes (that’s the length of a roll of film), so you’ll need a film editing machine and some adhesive splicing tabs to stick the films together—also available at the camera store. Anybody who finds film editing exciting has lived a very uneventful life. Also, the handy-dandy splicing tapes require the finger dexterity of a professional pickpocket. But it has to be done, so stick with it (pun intended). It is satisfying when you’ve finished. Film and development are the biggest costs, of course. We spent $105.00 for a 25-minute epic. Writing the script isn’t hard; just remember to put in plenty of action, plenty of people, plenty of outdoors. Look around for any unusual settings for action scenes. Is there a park with an old airplane, or an outdoor museum? Are there stores, houses, or barns with unusual exteriors? If nothing else, is there an open space where you can stage an indian raid or a medieval jousting tournament?
We decided on a train robbery because we had the elements close at hand. The Heber Creeper is an old-time steam engine that carries sightseers between Heber, Utah, and lower Provo Canyon. The owners were happy to participate in the robbery and even showed us the best spot to pull off the job.
Our ward had enough riding enthusiasts to get the outlaw band more or less mounted. We had purebred stallions, ancient hay burners, a Shetland pony, and one reluctant donkey. He was the only member of the cast who didn’t think it was a good idea. We first noticed this lack of enthusiasm when we had to drag him stiff-legged down the road behind my Volkswagen to load him on a truck. If you’ve got 53 horsepower on one end of the rope and one donkey power on the other, you’ve got a toss-up contest that could go either way. But we finally won.
We loaded him and the rest of the horses and outlaws and headed for the hills.
The train route winds through Provo Canyon, then hugs the hillside around Deer Creek reservoir, and cuts through the fields and pastures of Heber Valley. We set up near a grove of trees and waited.
“Here she comes!” shouted the lookout.
I hollered, “Lights! Action! Roll ’em!” (Whatever that means.)
Lights and roll ’em we didn’t get, but action we did. One blast of the engine whistle and every horse sponsored his own Kentucky Derby in his own direction. Only the donkey was left. He was too ornery to be scared. He just stood stiff-legged by the tracks and sang two-part harmony with the train as it thundered by.
The Creeper was a white puff of smoke in the distance by the time we rounded up the last of the horses, so we dubbed in the train scene later. Speaking of dubbing in, try as much as possible to shoot the scenes in order. Rehearse them while looking through the camera; then try to get it right the first take. It will save film costs and editing time later.
Our script called for a brawl scene climaxed by a pie in the face. For this scene we got the bishop’s permission, because he got the pie in the face. Blueberry cream. It was a beautiful scene and performed with excellent taste, the bishop said.
Close-ups and reaction-to-the-action shots help pace the action. And also try to frame your characters as large as practical in the shot unless it’s a deliberate long shot or scenery shot. Mount your camera on a tripod whenever possible. Even though your cameraman lives the Word of Wisdom, he’s got shaky hands.
You can get synchronized sound with some super-8 movie cameras, but this was more trouble and expense than we wanted. We used a silent screen format with printed titles to show the dialogue and credits. You can type these and photograph them with a close-up attachment on the movie camera. Here, especially, use the tripod, We recorded a rinky-tink piano background (put thumbtacks in the piano hammers to get the “tink”). We play the tape whenever we show the movie.
Showing the movie is, of course, the climax, particularly the premiere showing. We staged a variety show titled “Salute to the Silver Screen.” The whole ward was invited (and came), and the kids did songs, dances, and skits based on great movies of the past. (Unfortunately most of the great movies are in the past.) Then we honored the cast and showed the movie. “The Great Train Robbery” will never get an Oscar, but it was a “ward winning” movie.

Shanon Graber of Virginia Beach is the type of person who dives right into things with energy and enthusiasm. That’s why she was so successful with the fund-raising projects the youth in her ward sponsored all year long.
They did pizza sales and Valentine cookie sales and doughnut sales and garage sales. The girls in the ward needed money for girls’ camp and youth conference, as well as the mother-daughter encampment, and it was taking an awful lot of work.
But Shanon shined. She put her shoulder and her heart to it and ended up making more than enough to cover her expenses. So what did she do with the excess? “Sister Murdock?” she asked her adviser, “do any of the other girls need any help?” Shanon, a Mia Maid, ended up donating enough money for two more girls to come to the encampment.
Those good works help her add a brilliant yellow to the rainbow.

One day three years ago, when I was 87, I was at a social event. A woman was there playing the piano; she played about like I do. When I asked her name, I found out it was Alice Bodily, my bishop’s mother. She was 90 years old at that time.
I asked my bishop if he thought his mother would like to play duets. He asked her, and she said she would love to. So three years ago we started playing piano duets every Wednesday morning for one hour for our own enjoyment.
We progressed from easy children’s duets to a couple of duets I used to play with my mother. But what we loved the most was playing duets of the sacred hymns of the Church. Our two favorites are “Joseph Smith’s First Prayer” (Hymns, no. 26) and “Love at Home” (Hymns, no. 294).
By playing every Wednesday and practicing in between, we got fairly good and impressed our children with a little concert. My bishop said he would like to have us play in sacrament meeting, so we learned “The Spirit of God” (Hymns, no. 2). That was a real challenge for us, but we worked on it for several months and surprised ourselves and our children and probably our ward members too. Before the COVID-19 hit, we played this hymn in five of our children’s wards.
There are many beautiful hymns that we now love to perform, such as “Come, Follow Me” (Hymns, no. 116), “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” (not in the current hymnbook but easy to find), and “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249). Sometimes finding a duet arrangement may mean asking for help, but a family member, ministering sister, or ward music leader is usually happy to assist.
We even found a collection of Christmas songs and prepared a 40-minute program to present at an assisted-living facility in December. Another musician joined us and played a xylophone and a set of bells to add variety to our performance.
Through our music, at our ages of 90 and 93, we feel that we are bringing “Joy to the World” (Hymns, no. 201) not only at Christmas but also all year long. We have been playing together regularly now for three years. Choosing to play duets together was clearly a key decision for both of us!

I would like to share another experience of faith. The only child in his family, Elder Hermelindo Coy said good-bye to his mother and left for the first time in his life his small village in the mountains of Senahú, Guatemala. He entered the Missionary Training Center on 14 March 1991. Although he had been a member of the Church for only two years and was very timid about talking to people, his determination to serve was great. His formal education was less than five years of elementary school in his native language of Kekchí. Spanish, the official language of Guatemala, was foreign to him.
During his mission he learned to live with pain in his leg. He rarely complained. In August 1992 he noticed, in addition to the increase in the pain, something abnormal about his knee. The diagnosis was bone cancer. A more careful exam revealed cancer in the liver, lungs, and lymphatic system; in other words, his illness was terminal. He did not understand the nature of the illness or its seriousness. With the help of a translator and using examples from the farm life with which he was familiar, he came to understand he had little time to live.
He never asked, Why is this happening to me? He did not lament or express negative feelings. He was obedient to all that was required of him. He was asked if he would like to return home, but he asked to remain in the mission and serve as long as possible, even until his death.
By October he walked with difficulty, requiring the use of a cane. He could work only a few hours each day. By December he was unable to walk. For the first time he was discouraged because he could not proselyte. His worry was always who would take care of his mother after he died.
In one of his visits, the mission president asked him to teach more of the basic doctrine to his mother, who, along with mission nurses, was providing 24-hour care. When he taught the plan of salvation to his mother in his native tongue, his face radiated assurance and light. Elder Coy was understanding with power and conviction what he was teaching.
As his strength declined, he placed his complete trust in the Lord. On one occasion when the pain was very strong, he expressed in prayer, “Heavenly Father, I do not know the day or the hour that I will die, but I want to know soon from Thee about my new assignment.” He died in February 1993. His death blessed all the missionaries, leaders, members, and even nonmembers who learned of his courage to serve and endure to the end. His faith was so simple it was contagious. He never feared death. He strengthened all who knew him.

After completing a full-time mission in the Brazil São Paulo North Mission, Elder Koch studied statistics at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, USA. “On a trip back to Brazil, I visited the ward of a friend, where I met my future wife,” said Elder Koch. “She walked up to me and asked me if I was married.” After an eight-month, long-distance courtship—and only 15 actual days together—he married Liliane Michele Ludwig on April 26, 1988, in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. They have two children.