Gospel Story Finder

The second reason he listed was: The bishop would find out.
He’d find out because I’d end up telling him, he thought.
It was only a month ago since he had had an interview with the bishop.
“Are you morally clean?”
“I think so.”
The bishop didn’t leave it at that. “What does it mean to you to be morally clean?”
“Well, you know,” he stammered, “keeping your body clean, and things like that.”
“Okay—what kinds of things?”
Bit by bit Troy told what he understood. With each new addition to the definition, the bishop had asked, “And are you free from that problem?”
At that time the bishop was satisfied. But if he pushed the “C” button, the next interview would be different, because he knew he wouldn’t lie to the bishop.
The bishop would be disappointed in me, he thought, staring again at the “C” button.

When we got married, I found out that even in a small home like ours, there is tons of stuff to do. You can’t imagine how much stuff! In the beginning, I wasn’t really helping out. I did some little things, but Jackie was doing most of the work. She is very caring and giving. One day she became upset, and I’m like, “What’s wrong?”

I grew up thinking that girls were supposed to do all the housework. I quickly learned that was not realistic. Jackie was very busy and under a lot of pressure with her job. While I’m under a lot of pressure too, I realized that I should start doing more to help.

I started sweeping the floors and washing dishes. Then I learned how to use the washing machine. I put notes on it to help me remember. Seriously! I have a sticker to help me know which washing powder to use. These things have now become my habit.

It’s been good since I started doing things in the house. It has made Jackie happier.

From his early teens, Wilford Woodruff searched for the true church. Once he gained a testimony that Joseph Smith truly was a prophet of God, Wilford tried to do everything the Prophet asked. When Joseph counseled the Apostles to keep a history of their lives, Wilford wrote daily in his journal. “Whenever I heard Joseph Smith preach, teach, or prophesy,” Wilford said, “I always felt it my duty to write it.” In the Church Historian’s office are stored seven thousand pages of Wilford Woodruff’s journals. The record he kept was invaluable for himself, his family, and the Church.

One day a video came to the mission office entitled How Rare a Possession. You may have seen it. It’s about a man who found a copy of the Book of Mormon without a cover or introductory pages in a trash can in Italy. The man read the book, accepted it, lived its principles, and spent almost a lifetime trying to find out more about the Church. He eventually found the missionaries, was baptized, and came into full fellowship. The video projects him later in his life going to the temple in Switzerland. It is a true story.

Nevertheless, Ruth was still not interested in the Church, though she was friendly to Church members and the missionaries. “I just didn’t feel the need to change my religion,” she says.
Richard decided not to press the issue. “Every time we talked about the Church, the conversation ended badly,” he says. “And when I pressured her, it went badly. So I stopped. I didn’t want to do that to her.”
In the fall of 2001, the missionaries invited Ruth to a baptismal service. Her decision to accept the invitation changed everything.
At the service the sister who was being baptized shared her testimony. “She spoke about the miracles that had happened in her life since she had come to know the Church—miracles of health, well-being, and strength,” Ruth recalls. “This sister basically lived alone yet had this testimony.”
Ruth wondered how a woman who had faced such difficult trials could have that kind of faith. That question and acting on the invitation to attend the baptismal service touched Ruth’s heart and prepared her to receive a witness from the Spirit.
“That’s when I made the decision to be baptized. Later, when Richard and I were alone, I said, ‘Richard, what do you think about me getting baptized in December?’ And there you have it. I was already familiar with the Church and the gospel. But I still needed to hear the discussions from the missionaries.”
“God prepares the hearts of people,” Richard adds. “We can do some things on our own. I did many things, but it wasn’t until Ruth was prepared that this happened.”
Ruth agrees: “I had many challenges to overcome when we got married. When I finally overcame those challenges, that’s when I realized I didn’t need to wait for another miracle in my life. That’s when I was ready to be baptized.”
Ruth’s baptism in December 2001 marked a shift in their family focus. With that shift came spiritual strength and blessings that have guided them to this day.

Nathan started saving when he was even younger than Adam. When he was 10, he began delivering papers, shoveling snow, and mowing lawns. Now that he’s 15, he’s what he likes to call a “Babysitter Extraordinaire” for some of the families in his ward. He loves spending time with children, so it’s a great job for him. After paying tithing, he puts away 10 percent of each paycheck for his mission.
He’s had the desire to serve since Primary when he sang “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission” (Children’s Songbook, 169). “And when my brother went,” he says, “that made me want to go even more. It made a big difference for me. He set the example. He really changed his attitude toward life because of his mission.”
Going on a mission is really important to Nathan, not only because his dad thinks it’s really important or because his older brother set the example. He says, “It’s a commandment. I really need to go on a mission. It’s an important thing.”

I stopped going to church when my grandfather passed away. His passing was one of the hardest trials that has ever happened to me. During that time I sort of doubted the Lord. Things weren’t very clear to me; it was a depressing time.
After some time had passed, my aunt and mom spoke with me. I came to realize that the time will come when I can see my grandfather again. This realization was a slow and complicated process. My grandfather’s death challenged my faith—and helped me find it. My faith in Jesus Christ has been strengthened as I’ve thought about gospel truths and returned to church!

Before my eighth birthday I fasted and prayed to Heavenly Father to know if I should be baptized. The answer was yes! After I was baptized I felt a wonderful warm feeling of happiness. I was grateful to be confirmed and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. Since my baptism I have tried to keep the commandments, be kind to my family and friends, and always set a good example.Huia K., 8, Victoria, Australia

The note was written on blue paper with zigzags drawn around the corners, so even though Jeremy handed it to her, Melanie knew the note was from Rachel. Melanie glanced around. Reading time was over, and her classmates were putting away their books.
Melanie knew how the note would start: “Dear Best Friend.” She smiled to herself. She and Rachel had been friends since second grade. “We’re still best friends, even though we’re very different,” Melanie thought as she unfolded the note.
Dear Best Friend,
Do you smoke?
—Rachel
Melanie was surprised. “Rachel and I are together all the time,” she thought. “Doesn’t she know I don’t smoke?”
She wrote on the bottom of the paper:
No. I think it’s gross. Why do you want to know?
—Melanie
Melanie handed the note back to Jeremy. Soon he passed it back again. Melanie read:
I snuck a pack of cigarettes from my aunt’s house. Do you want to try some with me after school?
—Rachel
Melanie stared at the note. Then she wrote:
Rachel! Why do you want to smoke? It’s bad for you! I know you like to try new things, but I don’t want to see you get hurt.
—Melanie
Rachel wrote back:
A few cigarettes aren’t going to hurt me. I might not even finish the whole pack.
—Rachel
Melanie felt like she was going to cry. She wrote:
You’re my friend, and I love you. Don’t smoke.
—Melanie
Melanie watched Rachel as she read the note. Now Rachel looked like she was going to cry. She held onto the note for a long time. Then she wrote back. When Melanie got the note, she read:
Thanks. I love you too. I won’t smoke the cigarettes.
Melanie was grateful she had chosen to be an example. She felt relieved that Rachel had made the right choice.

Chris shuffled his feet a little to hear the brush, brush sound they made in the blue paper booties covering his shoes. He was standing in line with his family, waiting to go into the San Diego California Temple for the open house.
Dad bent down and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. "Temple open houses are very special," he said. "I remember when I went to the Provo Utah Temple open house. I had watched the workers building it from just an empty field up to a finished temple. When we were inside, I knew it was Heavenly Father’s house. I was a little bit older than you are, but you’ll remember this your whole life, just like I did."
Mom turned toward them. "That’s right. I remember when I went to the Seattle Washington Temple open house a long time ago. That’s why we drove all the way here. Getting to tour a temple before it’s dedicated is a very special opportunity."
Chris thought about their long drive through the desert to get to San Diego. There had been nothing interesting to look at out the windows, and his little sister cried most of the way. Even his older sister got a little bit tired of all the driving. But since they had come so far, he knew it was important.
Chris folded his arms and walked as quietly as he could in his blue paper shoes through the temple tour. He couldn’t remember ever being somewhere so beautiful. The carpet was white. The windows were tall. The pictures on the walls were beautiful. It felt more reverent than any place he had been before.
As they walked up the stairs, Chris held tightly to the handrail. He was smiling brightly.
Mom whispered to him, "How do you feel?"
Chris looked up at her and Dad. "I feel like I’m holding the iron rod."

“What were you assigned to bring?” Melissa asked Clara as they walked to Sister Wilson’s house for their achievement day activity.
“Flour,” Clara answered. “What are you bringing?”
“Some yeast,” said Melissa.
“I wonder what we’re doing today,” Clara continued. “Hannah is bringing flour too. Sister Wilson has kept it such a secret.”
“I know,” Melissa agreed. “All she would say was it’s going to affect many Church members this Sunday.”
The girls were still talking about the mystery when they reached Sister Wilson’s house. Tina, Jenny, and Susan were already there. Just as Clara and Melissa sat down, Hannah arrived. Now all the girls were present, and they hoped the mystery project would soon be revealed.
Sister Wilson offered the opening prayer, asking that they might understand the importance of the great sacrifice Jesus Christ made for them. She also prayed that the food they would prepare might be blessed for the sake of all who would eat it.
After the prayer, they went to the kitchen with their assigned ingredients.
“Let’s see,” Sister Wilson began, “who was assigned to bring the yeast?”
“I was,” Melissa said.
“Good,” said Sister Wilson. “We’re going to put the yeast into a small bowl with some warm water and let it dissolve. We will put the other dry ingredients into a larger bowl. Who has the flour, sugar, and salt?”
“I do,” Clara, Hannah, and Jenny answered together.
As the girls worked, they talked and laughed. Amid the chatter, Clara asked, “What are we making, and how will it affect the Church members?”
“Can anyone guess?” Sister Wilson asked.
“Are we making cookies?” Susan asked.
Sister Wilson smiled. “We are making the bread that will be used next Sunday for the sacrament.”
The giggling stopped suddenly, and the girls spoke reverently. They weren’t making bread just to learn how. They were making bread for use in a sacred ordinance!
When the yeast was dissolved, Susan poured in the milk she had brought and Tina added her oil. Then the girls mixed the liquid and dry ingredients together. They took turns kneading the dough, then covered it with a cloth and allowed it to rise. They shaped it into two loaves, and while they waited for it to rise the second time, they had a lesson on the sacrament.
“Can anyone tell me what the bread and water represent?” Sister Wilson asked.
“The flesh and blood of Jesus Christ,” Melissa answered.
“That is right,” said Sister Wilson. “Shortly before His Crucifixion, Jesus gathered His Apostles around Him in an upstairs room. He knew He was going to die, and He wanted the Apostles to always remember Him and to be faithful to His teachings. He blessed bread and broke it into pieces. He gave it to His disciples to eat in memory of His body. He blessed wine and gave it to them to drink in memory of His blood.
“When we partake of the sacrament, we renew the covenants we made when we were baptized,” Sister Wilson continued. “Can anyone tell me what we promised to do?”
“I know,” Clara said. “We promised to keep the commandments.”
“We promised to remember Jesus Christ,” Jenny added.
“Very good,” Sister Wilson said. “We also promised to take upon us the name of Jesus Christ. The way we act, the things we do, and the words we say should show others that we are followers of Christ. The Lord promised us that if we keep our covenants, we will always have His Spirit to be with us.
“Is there anything special we should do during the sacrament?” Sister Wilson asked.
Hannah raised her hand. “My mom always tells us we should be reverent.”
“She’s right,” said Sister Wilson. “And we should remember the Atonement and think about the promises we are renewing. We also need to think about ways to improve ourselves and become more like Christ.”
The girls talked about things they could do to be more Christlike. Then it was time to put the bread into the oven. While the bread baked, the girls planned upcoming activities.
Then they took the golden brown loaves from the oven, and Sister Wilson said, “After they cool, I’ll slice them. Then I’ll give them to Bishop Carmichael.”
On Sunday the girls sat with their families in sacrament meeting. They sang the sacrament hymn reverently as the priests broke the bread for the congregation. They listened carefully as a priest blessed the bread, and when they said, “Amen,” they really meant it. Then the deacons passed the bread. When Clara took a piece of bread from the tray, she was filled with gratitude for all the Savior had done for her. She thought about the Last Supper and what Jesus taught His disciples about the sacrament. She also thought about ways she could keep the commandments better.
Clara glanced at Melissa. From the look on her friend’s face, Clara knew the sacrament had touched Melissa’s heart too.
After the meeting, the girls stopped outside the meetinghouse to talk for a moment before going home.
“I’m glad Sister Wilson let us help make the sacrament bread,” Jenny said.
“I thought it made the sacrament extra special,” Tina added.
“It wasn’t just the bread,” Melissa replied thoughtfully. “It was really thinking about the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and what the sacrament means.”
Clara smiled. “I felt the same way. It wasn’t the bread that made the difference. It was the Savior.”

Stewart woke up with an intense feeling of dread. It was Friday—dodgeball day in gym class. His stomach was already tying itself in knots. He ate no breakfast, and he was mostly silent while his mom drove him to school.
First period was art class, his favorite. He liked it because it was something he could do well. He also liked it because he didn’t have to compete with anyone. There was no winner, no loser, just everyone doing his very best. That’s fair, he thought.
Second period was English, a class that Stewart would have really enjoyed if it were not right before gym. He loved to read. It was a grand adventure to let his imagination whisk him off to faraway places. But today, just as he got into a story and started enjoying it, he remembered that in less than an hour he would be in his gym shorts and sneakers, waiting for all the other boys to be chosen for teams. Then someone would finally say, “Oh, great—I guess we’re stuck with Stewart!” He hated that part even worse than the actual playing of the game. Naturally, the biggest, most athletic boys were chosen first; Stewart understood that, but he didn’t understand why they had to make fun of him just because he didn’t play as well.
Third period came. Stewart walked across the football field to the gymnasium, dreading even the musky smell of the locker room. He and the other boys dressed quickly and took their places on the gym floor; the coaches didn’t like to be kept waiting.
“Line up; it’s dodgeball day,” Coach Warden shouted. “We need some team leaders!”
Stewart kicked at the chipped lines painted on the old gymnasium floor, wishing that the period was over and that he was eating lunch. He was startled when Coach Warden called his name—he had never been called on to choose a team before!
Soon he and three other boys were standing in a line facing the group. Then Coach Warden walked over, “Stewart, you go first.”
Immediately most of the boys began the usual ritual of jumping up and down, waving their hands, and yelling, “Me! Me! Me!” Dan just stood there with his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t have to jump up and down; he was the best athlete in the whole school and was always chosen first. He told Stewart, “Go ahead—pick me, and I’ll pick the rest of the team for you.” When Stewart hesitated, Dan looked puzzled. “Pick me—you know I’m the best.”
The entire gymnasium became silent in disbelief when Stewart said, “I choose Craig.”
Craig stepped forward with a look of amazement that turned into a big grin. “I’ve never been first pick before.” He had always been chosen just before Stewart—next to last.
The other team leaders made their first choices. When it was Stewart’s turn again, a pin could have been heard dropping as he called out, “Andy.” Andy had usually been chosen just before Craig.
At each subsequent turn, Stewart went on going up the ladder instead of down, choosing boys who were usually “assigned,” rather than chosen. The other team leaders chose the best athletes, as usual.
For the first time, Stewart enjoyed the game. His team came in last, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that every boy on the team felt wanted.
After the game, the boys went to change clothes. Stewart was tying his shoelaces when Dan towered over him and taunted him, “I told you to pick me. But you wouldn’t do it. You’re nothing but a loser.”
“Dan!” It was the authoritative voice of the coach. “Stewart is many things, but a loser certainly isn’t one of them.” Coach Warden made Dan apologize, sent him and the other boys on to class, then turned to Stewart. “I want to thank you.”
“Huh? What for?”
Coach Warden sat down on the bench, motioning Stewart to sit beside him. “For reteaching me a very important lesson. You see, whenever there’s competition, there has to be a winner and a loser. Everyone wants to be a winner, and nobody wants to be a loser. Today the other team leaders were thinking only about winning, so they chose the best athletes. You were more concerned with the boys themselves, with their feelings. It would’ve been very easy for you to have picked Dan and let him put together the winning team for you. But you didn’t. You were brave enough to choose those whom the others considered losers. But you were the real winner today, Stewart, and so were your teammates. I’m very proud of you.”
The coach walked with Stewart to the door, then went into his office and made a list of all of the boys. He cut the names out on individual strips of paper and threw them into a baseball cap, ready for picking the next day’s teams.

When you want to do a stakewide service project but your stake covers a 75-mile area, what’s a ward to do? The Auburn California Stake solved the problem recently with their “Day of Impact.”
Each ward and branch chose a local project that would be completed on the same day. Afterwards, they met at a centrally located park for a barbecue, games, and story swapping. They talked about things like how they painted bleachers at a high school, built a concession booth by the football field at another high school, and weeded and cleaned yards and cemeteries. They also repaired broken headstones. They sanded and painted picnic tables at an elementary school and even restored a historical landmark—an old caboose.
Later, at a stake fireside, everyone was able to catch a glimpse of their work via video—leaders had filmed each project. Even though they had spent the day working apart, they felt a spirit of pulling together.

The game was going great until Brian, the shortstop, sprained a finger while fielding a line drive.
“José, you’re in.” Coach yelled as he raced out onto the field.
José grabbed his glove and jumped off the bench. I’ve never played shortstop, he thought. I hope I do OK.
The next batter hit a hot grounder to José’s right. As he reached for the ball, it took a squirrelly hop up in the air. He made a stab at it but only managed to keep the ball in the infield. “Sorry, guys,” he yelled to his teammates as the runners pulled up at first and second.
“Good stop,” Matthew called from the pitcher’s mound.
José shrugged. “That should have been the last out,” he mumbled. “Brian would have made it easy.”
The next batter struck out, and the game was over. The Asteroids had won 3–2.
“Way to go, team,” Coach praised them in the dugout. “Only one game left in the season. We may not be number one, but this is the best year we’ve ever had. I’m really proud of you guys.”
Everyone whooped and whistled and high-fived each other.
Coach continued, “I’m handing out the ballots for you to vote on player awards. Remember, these are secret ballots. The awards will be given out next Saturday night at the banquet. And I hope you’ll all be back to play next year.”
He doesn’t mean me, José thought. Who needs a bench warmer! He glanced down at the voting form. Most improved player. Easy. James. He was the best first baseman in the whole league.
Best athlete. Cinch. Matthew, the pitcher. Not only was he the fastest runner on the team, he had an arm that rivaled the best professional pitcher’s.
Most valuable player. It had to be Brian, the shortstop. He was an awesome all-around player. He could field, run, and smack a homer over the center field fence.
On the way out, Coach stopped him. “José,” he said, “Mitchell has a dentist’s appointment next Saturday. Would you fill in at catcher?”
José shrugged. “Sure, Coach.”
“I knew that I could count on you.” Coach squeezed his shoulder.
José kicked his bat up over his shoulder. Don’t count on much, he thought. I’m not the greatest catcher in the world, either. I bet I’ve filled in at every position on the field, but I’m not great at any of them. That’s why I’ve never had a permanent position—besides bench warmer.
The Asteroids won their final game in a squeaker. José overthrew second base once, allowing a steal, and he dropped a few pitches. Otherwise, he played a good game. Not great, just good enough.
“Way to go, José!” Matthew said, high-fiving him at the plate. “See you tonight at the banquet.”
“The banquet?” He had tried to forget it. He’d probably be the only guy there who didn’t win an award of some sort. “Uh, I don’t think I can make it. Mom and Dad won’t be home tonight, and I don’t have a ride.”
Matthew’s eyes grew wide. “Are you kidding? You’re not coming?”
“Sorry. I’d like to. I want to see you win Best Athlete and all—”
“Hey, Coach,” Matthew yelled at the departing coach, cutting José off. “I’ll see you around, José.” He punched him in the arm and sprinted off.
That evening, while José was lying on his bed, tossing his baseball in the air, his big sister pounded on the door. “Hey, little bro—you have company.”
“Company?” He rolled off the bed and opened the door. “Coach! What are you doing here?”
“Come on, José. If you don’t hustle, we’re going to be late for the banquet. Matthew told me that you needed a ride.”
José gulped. I shouldn’t have told Matthew I needed a ride, he thought. He pulled on his baseball cap and hurried out.
Soon the boys were all stuffed with the good banquet food. Even so, they were on the edges of their chairs, eagerly awaiting the announcement of the awards. Before long, only the three trophy awards were left.
José looked around the room. Sure enough, almost everyone else on the team had received at least a certificate.
“Most improved player,” Coach announced from the lectern up front, “James Carelli.”
Everyone in the room applauded. José slapped James’s palm as the tall first baseman went to accept his trophy. José was glad he’d come, after all, to see his friends win their awards.
“Best athlete, Matthew Beckman.” The team cheered again. José whistled through his fingers as Matthew sprinted for the front.
“And now for our most valuable player.” Coach bent down and lifted the trophy over his head. Everyone oohed and aahed.
“This special award goes to the person who made the biggest contribution to our team. A player who could always be counted on to perform his best, especially in a pinch. As a coach, I don’t know what I would have done without him this season. We might have had to forfeit games if he hadn’t always been there. Except for the winner’s own vote, it was unanimous. Most valuable player for the Asteroids is José Valdez.”
The room went wild. All the players rushed over to slap José on the back.
He was so stunned that he couldn’t get out of his seat.
“C’mon, José,” Matthew said. “Stop warming the bench and go get your trophy.” Everyone laughed. Then the whole team escorted him up to the front.
MVP. José traced the engraved letters on the trophy that lay beside his pillow that night. He smiled, remembering Coach’s words on the way home: “José, I sure hope you’ll be our bench warmer again next year. We need you!”
José hugged the trophy close. In the dark he whispered his answer: “You can count on me, Coach.”

One day when Tuhk was modeling shorts, his mother noticed some terrible bruises on his legs, and they wouldn’t heal. A doctor’s checkup revealed the worst—he had leukemia. It would take a bone marrow transplant and over $100,000 to save his life.
Now the Potters were performing, without Tuhk, to earn money to help their little brother live. What they made didn’t go far, but the publicity they received did. Their ward, stake, and community rallied around them. Soon an offer came from the City of Hope, a medical facility in California, to donate Tuhk’s transplant and treatment.
The family sped south. All the Potter kids tested positive to be bone marrow donors, but Tarrish was selected. They went through weeks of fasting and prayer while their brother went through surgery and chemotherapy, part of it in strict isolation. That was especially hard on Tuhk.
The Potter family was elated when they found that Tuhk’s leukemia had finally gone into remission. When you meet him now, telling funny riddles or playing with Ninja Turtles, you’d never guess he’d once come so close to death.

I joined Girl Scouts and have made a lot of new friends. We do lots of fun activities, but once there was an activity on a Sunday. I really wanted to go because the girls would be learning new songs, eating s’mores, and earning a patch, but I know that Sunday is the Sabbath. I knew that going to the activity wouldn’t be the right choice for me, so I went to church instead. When I saw my friends’ new patch at our next Girl Scout meeting I was a little sad because I didn’t have one. But I remembered that I had kept the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy, and that made me happy. Sometimes doing the right thing is hard, but it always feels good afterward.

In my youth, I experienced the joy of coming closer to the Savior—and of His coming closer to me—through simple acts of obedience to the commandments. When I was young, the sacrament was offered during an evening meeting. I can still remember one specific night, more than 75 years ago, when it was dark and cold outside. I remember a feeling of light and warmth as I realized that I had kept the commandment to gather with the Saints to partake of the sacrament, covenanting with our Heavenly Father to always remember His Son and keep His commandments.
At the end of the meeting that night, we sang the hymn “Abide with Me; ’Tis Eventide,” with the memorable words “O Savior, stay this night with me.”
These words brought an overwhelming sense of the Spirit to me, even as a young boy. I felt the Savior’s love and closeness that evening through the comfort of the Holy Ghost.

There was a hailstorm in Monterrey, Mexico, last night, and this morning the unpaved roads are rivers of mud. Sister Miriam Sosa and Sister Laura Alcala bundle up in sweaters and coats. (It’s not always sunny here!) The sturdy shoes they’re wearing have seen muddy streets before.
You’d think these two had known each other their whole lives. They’re certainly best friends now. Both have a bright excitement in their eyes and a spirit of enthusiasm as they speak. Both are third-generation Latter-day Saints. Both have fathers who have been stake presidents and brothers who are currently serving missions.
Most important, both are filled with the spirit of missionary work. Although some may say it is hard to give fifteen discussions here in a week, they’ve given over sixty-five a week more than once.
“Consecration is the only way,” says Sister Sosa. Her humility is genuine. “We have put absolutely all our confidence in the Lord.”
“And we truly love the people we’re teaching,” adds Sister Alcala. “We want to share what we have with everybody.”
During Sister Sosa’s eight months in the field, she has had fifty-five baptisms. Most are complete families and are preparing for the temple. They’ll have ten more baptisms this weekend.
As they slip and slide through the muddy streets this morning, they joke about getting stuck or falling down. But they’ll do neither; their pace is quick and sure. They knock on the door of a tiny house: the parents aren’t home, but the grandpa and three granddaughters are. A single bulb lights the room. The toothless grandpa, blind in one eye and complaining of a sore arm, has a lot to say—but he listens, too. The oldest granddaughter holds the youngest on her lap; she and the middle sister listen attentively, read scriptures, and answer questions correctly. At the end, one of the girls offers a prayer and the missionaries leave, promising to return when the parents are home.
More mud. Now they cross a field, singing “I Am a Child of God.” At their next stop, they teach another discussion. Afterward, the mother says she felt good during the lesson. “That’s the Spirit of God bearing witness to your heart that these things are true,” says Sister Alcala. The family promises to come to Church on Sunday.
Back out in the street, the sister missionaries squeal their delight. As they round another muddy corner, Sister Sosa exclaims, “This is such a beautiful place to work!”

Several years after the difficult trial the Alvarez family faced, I witnessed how another faithful family dealt with great adversity. Several members of the Quero family had died in a terrible car accident. Brother Abraham Quero lost his parents, two sisters, his brother-in-law, and his niece in that accident.
Brother Quero showed an admirable attitude when he said the following:
“This was the time to show loyalty to God and to acknowledge that we depend on Him, that His will must be obeyed, and that we are subject to Him.
“I spoke to my brothers and gave them strength and courage to understand what President Kimball taught many years ago, that ‘there is no tragedy in death, but only in sin’ (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Spencer W. Kimball [Melchizedek Priesthood and Relief Society course of study, 2006], 18) and that the important thing is not how a man died but how he lived.
“The words of Job filled my soul: ‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord’ (Job 1:21). And then from Jesus: ‘I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live’ (John 11:25).
“This was one of the most spiritual experiences we had as a family—to accept the will of God under such very difficult circumstances.”

As Relief Society president, I felt overwhelmed by the needs and challenges some families in our little branch were facing. Times had been tough, and several members had lost their jobs.
Outside the Church, discouragement, sadness, and hopelessness could be seen in the eyes of many who were having difficulty providing for their families. Even children and youth exuded feelings of uncertainty and turmoil.
Branch leaders felt the need to carry a bit of hope and love to the most needy—something that could help people in our community feel that a loving Heavenly Father knew of their trials and was watching over them.
As Christmas drew near, we proposed inviting the poorest children in our community to a dinner. Branch members would hold fund-raisers, buy food from a fast-food chain, and prepare our meetinghouse to receive our guests. Everyone got involved, including the Primary children, young women, and young men.
We arranged for the fast-food chain to provide the food, and we contacted social workers to locate families with the greatest needs. The workers gave us a list of about 100 children, which was more than we had anticipated. Our spirits did not fail, but it seemed impossible to raise enough money to purchase food for that many children.
When the day of our dinner arrived, the branch president, accompanied by several deacons, took the funds we had raised and headed to the restaurant, wondering how we were going to feed so many children with our limited funds. They prayed as they went, thinking that maybe we should invite only the smallest children, divide the meals in half, or call off the activity.
When they reached the restaurant, the branch president put the money on the counter. That’s when their prayers were answered.
The restaurant manager looked at them and, with a smile, said the restaurant would be happy to contribute as many meals as necessary—at no cost! I cannot express the joy we all felt upon learning of this kind gesture, which allowed us to bring some cheer—and plenty of food—to a large group of needy children.
Thanks to the restaurant’s generosity, we were able to use the money that we had raised to purchase food and make food baskets for the neediest families.
From this experience we learned that no effort is in vain when we put our talents and good desires to the service of our fellow beings. Our testimonies were strengthened that the Lord opens doors after we do all we can.