Gospel Story Finder

My father was the great-grandson of Charles Shumway, the first convert to the Church in our family. The missionaries found him living in the state of Wisconsin and shared the gospel with him. He was so happy that the next day, when he went to the sawmill where he worked, he told his coworkers what the missionaries had told him. One big man did not agree with his message and beat him up. He crawled back home, wounded.
When he had healed, he told his family, “I have to go find out if Joseph Smith really exists and if there really is such a thing as a prophet, like those missionaries told me.” He traveled to Nauvoo, and when he got there, yes sir, there was a prophet.
He returned home for his wife and family, headed toward the Mississippi River, built a raft, and floated back down to Nauvoo. For the rest of his life, he followed the prophet and tried to do exactly as he was directed. Under the direction of Brigham Young, he led the first company of Saints across the Mississippi after they were driven out of Nauvoo. He came into the Salt Lake Valley with Brigham Young on July 24, 1847. Later, President Young asked him to settle in Arizona. He did, and that’s where my family has stayed ever since. Thanks to my great-great-grandfather who accepted the gospel, my great-grandfather, my grandfather, my father, and I have all been active members of the Church.

Years of miracles and opportunities led Australian Scott Hamilton to a first place Praiseworthy Award from the career development organisation, Latter-day Saints in Publishing, Media and the Arts (LDSPMA).
A member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Scott attended the LDSPMA Awards Gala held at Utah Valley University, in Orem, Utah, USA, in October 2023, where he accepted his Praiseworthy Award for a demo video of his original song, ‘I See the Christ.’
Scott wrote the winning song for a musical he is developing called One Spring Morn, which celebrates the lives of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his wife Emma. ‘I See the Christ’ and another song from the musical, ‘Bring on Tomorrow’, were both shortlisted for awards in the Musical Theatre category.
Produced in Salt Lake City in 2022, the demo video for ‘I See the Christ’ features vocalists Casey Elliot, from the musical trio Gentri, and Savannah Stevenson, a leading lady from London’s West End. They are accompanied by Jayne Galloway on piano and Grammy-nominated cellist, Nicole Pinnell.
Scott first saw Nicole play in the film adaptation of Rob Gardner’s musical production, Lamb of God, where, through her cello, she stunningly represented the voice of Christ. Following a prompting that spoke to his heart, Scott reached out to her via social media.
“I feel that Heavenly Father truly opened a door for me through Nicole’s incredible talent, generosity and connections,” Scott recalls. “I am so grateful that she had the heart to be willing to listen to my music.”
Nicole introduced Scott to Casey Elliot, and Scott reached out to Savannah Stevenson, also via social media, after seeing her perform on a Brigham Young University programme. Savannah sang the solo for, “Bring on Tomorrow,’ and in the duet, ‘I See the Christ’ with Casey.
When filming for the demo video was complete, shortly after returning to Australia, Scott suffered a brain aneurysm and extensive bleed in the frontal lobe of his brain. An emergency surgery preserved his life and thankfully—miraculously—he was able to continue with his music.
That same year in May, he remotely directed the recordings of two more of his songs, connecting by Zoom in to Salt Lake City’s Funk Studios.
“I am eternally grateful to Heavenly Father and the amazing surgeons for saving my life, and for my wife, Jo, for gently pushing me on this musical journey for nearly 15 years,” says Scott.
He is equally grateful for his parents, Nanette and Frank, who nurtured his musical talent from childhood. Shortly before Scott’s mother passed away in 2020, he promised her he would continue writing music, and so he has.
“Having a close call with death causes one to refocus one’s priorities in life. For me they are faith and family, and of course more faith-promoting music,” says Scott.
He is now orchestrating and preparing for the launch of his long-awaited musical, One Spring Morn. With a premiere expected in 2025—exactly 205 years since the First Vision of Joseph Smith—its story will explore the experiences of Joseph and Emma Smith, their feelings of faith and devotion to their Saviour, Jesus Christ, and their gratitude for His tender mercies.
Look out for a preview concert based on this musical in Melbourne, Australia, in June.

Why would a person without compelling challenges, needs, or questions be interested in meeting the missionaries and listening to their lessons? Well, in my case it was love—love for a girl, a girl named Renee. I fell in love with her, and I wanted to marry her. She was different and had standards different from most young women I knew. But I fell for her and asked her to marry me—and she said no!
I was confused. I thought I was quite a catch! I was handsome, 24 years old, and a college graduate with a great job. She spoke of her goals—of marrying only someone who could take her to the temple, of having an eternal family—and she declined my offer. I wanted to continue the relationship, so I agreed to listen to the missionaries. Is this a good reason to meet with the missionaries? Well, it was for me.
When I first met with the missionaries, I did not understand much of what they said, and to tell you the truth, I may not have paid much attention to them. My heart was closed to a new religion. I wanted only to prove they were wrong and to gain time to convince Renee to marry me anyway.
Today my children have served and are serving missions, and I understand the sacrifices that these young men and young women make to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. Now I wish I had paid more attention to Elder Richardson, Elder Farrell, and Elder Hyland, the wonderful missionaries who taught me.

In History of the Church, Elder B. H. Roberts quotes the following from the Newell K. Whitney family’s history:
“‘About the first of February, 1831, a sleigh containing four persons drove through the streets of Kirtland and drew up in front of the store of Gilbert and Whitney. One of the men, a young and stalwart personage alighted, and springing up the steps walked into the store and to where the junior partner was standing. “Newel K. Whitney! Thou art the man!” he exclaimed, extending his hand cordially, as if to an old and familiar acquaintance. “You have the advantage of me,” replied the merchant, as he mechanically took the proffered hand, “I could not call you by name as you have me.” “I am Joseph the Prophet,” said the stranger smiling. “You’ve prayed me here, now what do you want of me?”’ The Prophet, it is said, while in the East had seen the Whitneys in vision, praying for his coming to Kirtland. ‘Mother Whitney’ [Elizabeth Ann, wife of Newel] also tells how on a certain night prior … , while she and her husband were praying to the Lord to know how they might obtain the gift of the Holy Ghost, which of all things they desired, they saw a vision as of a cloud of glory resting upon their house, and heard a voice from heaven saying, ‘Prepare to receive the word of the Lord, for it is coming’” (History of the Church, 1:146).

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.

“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.

“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”

Prince received his answer.

“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

When Madilin Neibert received her school’s citizenship award at the end of her seventh grade year, it took her by surprise. As one of only seven LDS youth in her school, she’d spent a lot of time that year standing up for her beliefs. Some didn’t understand or agree with her, but Madilin learned that she didn’t need to go along with the crowd to earn her friends’ respect.
What was it like to be recognized as a good citizen in your school? I’m really grateful that I got that award. It meant a lot to me because I know I’m doing my part to be a citizen and to be kind to others and to my teachers.

When I was 11, my family lived in a 12-story building in Hong Kong. Every day after school, I ran into the building and rode the elevator to our apartment.
One day I got into the elevator and pressed all the buttons so they lit up. Now the elevator would stop on each floor. The doors started to close, but all of a sudden a hand shot in and opened the doors. It was one of my upstairs neighbors. She didn’t say anything about the buttons, but I was nervous. It felt like it took forever to get home!
Sure enough, the elevator stopped on the next floor, waited, and then kept going. As soon as the doors opened on my floor, I dashed out. I got home sweating because I ran so fast!
Soon after I got home, the phone rang. It was the neighbor from the elevator. I got so nervous waiting for my mom to get off the phone.
After she got off the phone, my mother asked, “Did you press all the buttons on the elevator?”
I couldn’t lie to my mother. “Yes,” I said.
My mother smiled. “OK, let’s go upstairs and talk to our neighbor.”
We went upstairs together. I rang the doorbell, and my neighbor came to the door. My head hung low as I said I was sorry that I pressed all the buttons. I promised I would never do it again.
Our neighbor was kind. She said, “As long as you never do it again, I think that’s fine.”
After telling her I was sorry, I felt good. And I never pressed all the buttons on the elevator again.
This experience helped me learn about repentance. I knew I did something wrong. I felt sorry and asked for forgiveness. And I never did it again. Then I felt happy! Repentance can bring you happiness too.
From an interview with Kristin Pedersen.

At age nine, Elizabeth had immigrated to the United States with an uncle. Her parents and their six other children planned to join them in America, but never could. She never saw them again.
Elizabeth grew up, married, and one day welcomed two Latter-day Saint missionaries into her home. A few months later, Elizabeth joined the Church. But her life was difficult. Her husband lost a leg in an accident. He also suffered from tuberculosis and glaucoma and was blind during the last fifteen years of his life.
His death left Elizabeth alone to run a farm and raise nine children. She added to the family’s limited income by working as a midwife.
Three times the family lost their home—to a flood, a fire, and a tornado. But despite her trials, Elizabeth maintained a positive attitude and shared the joy of the gospel message wherever she went.

I had just turned 14 and my bishop had invited me to enroll in seminary. By a stroke of severe timing, my bishop’s invitation came right when I was embarking on a system of scholarly torture known as the General Certificate of Secondary Education. In England (I live in Manchester), we refer to it as the GCSEs. So here was the bishop inviting me to seminary while the never-ending storm of exams, homework, mock exams, projects, tests, and experiments that are the GCSEs were just beginning.
Consequently, apathetic would be the best word to describe my approach to seminary. There was the initial excitement of studying in the same class as my big brother, but that quickly wore off. It wasn’t until I decided to find out about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon that I began to appreciate what seminary could do for me.
When I began the course, we had been taught that Moroni 10:4 [Moro. 10:4] was our key scripture for the year. I had marked that scripture in red and green, and I had felt prompted to pray to Heavenly Father and ask for a special witness concerning the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.
As I knelt by my bed to talk with my Father in Heaven, I realized I had not prepared myself very well. I remembered the passage in the Doctrine and Covenants when the Lord told Oliver Cowdery that he “took no thought save it was to ask me” (D&C 9:7). I knew I was doing the same thing, and when I prayed to Heavenly Father I felt nothing different except a feeling that I was right to ask. But I didn’t feel like I’d received an answer to my prayer. I knew I had to do all that the Lord asked of me before I was to find out whether the Book of Mormon was a book of scripture or just a very clever novel.
Then one night I was alone in the house when my answer came. My homework was already completed, and usually such times are a welcome opportunity to veg out in front of the TV or get stuck in another science-fiction book. But that night I felt like doing neither.
On impulse, I went upstairs to my room and brought down my new brown triple combination. I sat in the living room and searched for the final chapters of Nephi’s life in 2 Nephi.
Somehow I felt that these were important chapters, so I said a short and simple prayer before I began to study, asking that the Spirit be with me. I had often asked for the same thing when I would pray before seminary lessons, yet this time my request seemed to mean more. I felt I needed to feel these words as I read them, so I began to read the scriptures out loud to myself.
As I read one chapter, then another, I began to feel as if I could actually hear Nephi himself saying those things to his people. As I read of his love for his people, I could feel the words of a prophet crying out, each sentence filled with the anguished cries of a loving man who had served God all his life. I read through chapter 32 [2 Ne. 32], spellbound by the words of a man who was suddenly becoming so real to me. The things he said were so beautiful and right. When I turned the page and began to read chapter 33 [2 Ne. 33], my empathy for this man overflowed. I could not contain my tears as I read how this prophet cried day and night for his people, and so I cried with him—desperately aware that those words were the last written in the Book of Mormon by such a great man.
I finished the final testimony of Nephi with a clogged throat and bleary eyes. Yet inside I felt on fire, alive with a knowledge that had settled in my heart. Nephi was a prophet of God, a real man, with a real life.
Many weeks after I had first prayed to know if those words were God’s words, I had fulfilled my end of Moroni’s promise and received a testimony that I hope will stay with me forever.

In a few languages, translations have been made by people who were not Latter-day Saints, but whom the Lord inspired and guided to accomplish the work. For instance, the Afrikaans Book of Mormon was translated by such a man, who was eminently qualified and highly recommended by local leaders. He commented that when he had difficulty with a given passage, he searched the Book of Mormon carefully in other languages for help. If that failed to produce something he could feel right about, his only recourse was to kneel and ask the Lord what the passage should say in his language. He was never disappointed.

On the third day, the group awoke to a terrible storm with winds blowing more than 50 miles per hour. Pegs pulled loose, tents collapsed, the rain pounded down, and dark clouds covered the entire sky. Fearing that the weather would stop the trek, the leaders knelt in prayer. President Randy Eberline of the stake presidency asked the Lord to calm the storm. Throughout the camp, trek families also knelt and prayed for relief from the weather. Suddenly, the clouds parted and a bowl of warm sunlight shone down. Kelly Maxwell, a priest from Sterling, described the answer to their combined prayers: “President Eberline prayed for there to be sunlight, and I was also hoping and praying that it would work. Minutes later we saw a break in the sky, and we started to see blue and then the sun just came out of the clouds.”

Kaylene described it this way: “The wind stopped, and you could see the clouds parting and the sun coming out. It was like seeing Moses parting the Red Sea, except this time God parted the clouds for us.”

Brother and Sister Matt and Jodi Clark arrived that evening to speak at a fireside. They reported that on the 100-mile drive from Anchorage it had been pouring rain. As they crested the last hill before reaching the camp, they saw the most incredible sight. Sunlight flooded the camp while the rest of the sky, as far as they could see in all directions, was full of dark clouds.

James Barrett, a priest from the Kenai Ward, said, “It was wonderful to feel the sun again, the warmth and the light that brought encouragement and hope. It was a miracle. It was as if the Lord had stretched out his hand and protected us from the harsh weather by surrounding our camp with sunlight.”

When I was seventeen years old, I received a patriarchal blessing. I was admonished to seek a companion who could take me to the temple and blessed that I would become a mother in Israel. I subsequently took it for granted that I would finish high school, continue my studies for some time, and then marry and begin a family.
But I was still unmarried in my thirties. By then I had come to understand that the promises of my patriarchal blessing might not be realized during my mortal life. Although I understood that if worthy and faithful, I would eventually enjoy every blessing, I was still troubled. I wondered whether I could be happy if marriage and family did not come in the ways I had desired. During one difficult period, I went often to the temple. On one occasion, I was given a clear message from God. I was told that I did not need to be afraid.
As I pondered that experience, I understood that my happiness did not depend on the timing of marriage and family blessings nor on the other conditions of my life but upon trust in God and obedience to him. Our Heavenly Father knows and loves each of us; he knows the circumstances and challenges of our lives, and he will help us. The scriptures teach, “Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you” (D&C 68:6).

Get out the scrapbooks with the clippings and photographs of Holly’s skating career, and the picture of her after the first competition will tell you all you need to know about why she has been successful. There she is at six-and-a-half, standing in third place holding her little ribbon, with her eyes glued on the trophy in the first-place winner’s hands. The look in her eye is everything. It is a look of pure resolve, a look that says next time the trophy will be hers.
Holly’s mother, Marge, noticed the look also. “That’s when I realized her determination. The girl who placed above her had an axel in her routine. Holly didn’t do that yet. She came home and went right to work learning it. I realized then that she had something special. She would fall and fall but keep on trying.”

Yet I early learned that sharing is as much responsibility as it is opportunity. I was about six years old when I carelessly dropped my older brother’s steam engine and broke its cast iron base. Looking at the little brass boiler—bright from repeated polishing but now listing hopelessly—I suddenly remembered that this was his favorite toy. Later, as Bill pulled the ruins of his engine out from under the pile of toys I had “given” him as a desperate recompense, he didn’t cry—at almost ten he felt he was too old to cry—but my mother’s quiet “He’s your brother, Billy” not only knotted my guilty heart, it filled me with mighty resolve that I wouldn’t exploit him again. I never have.

The night Mom broke her leg, I slept through the whole thing. She fell down the stairs. Dad telephoned for help. The ambulance driver didn’t use his siren.
“Kenny, my boy, your mom and dad asked me to spend some time with you,” Granddad explained when I woke up the next morning. “They’ll be back when the doctor has your mom all fixed up.”
I stood by my bed in my pajamas with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Granddad said, giving my shoulder a pat. “She’s going to be just fine. You and I are having a very special breakfast.”
“What are we having?”
“Toast from outer space,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
The lump in my throat disappeared as I followed Granddad to the kitchen. He took four slices of bread wrapped in foil from a packet inside his jacket.
“That looks like ordinary bread to me,” I said.
“Oh, no. This bread was baked fresh this morning by real live aliens from Pluto!”
We both laughed. I opened a cupboard to get the toaster.
“No way!” Granddad exclaimed. “You can’t make toast from outer space in a toaster. We have to zap it in the oven.”
Granddad turned the oven knob to broil. Next he used a fork to scoop some soft yellow stuff from a wooden bowl. “This is softened sunshine from a galaxy far, far away. It had to travel six million years at the speed of light to get here!” He used the fork to spread the sunshine over the bread.
“Why don’t you use a butter knife?” I giggled.
“There’s a right way and a wrong way to make toast from outer space,” Granddad said with a grin. He cut each piece of bread into two triangles. Then he arranged them in a circle on a cookie sheet turned upside down. “I’m just following the directions,” he told me.
He slipped the upside-down cookie sheet into the oven. “You can’t use an ordinary earth timer for this,” he said. “We have to count, ‘One from Pluto, two from Pluto, three from Pluto,’ and so on.”
So we counted together. We got clear up to ‘ninety from Pluto’ before the toast was brown and bubbly.
When Granddad pulled the cookie sheet from the oven, he burned a finger. He dropped the toast on the countertop and yelled, “Jackrabbits!” before he stuck his finger in his mouth. We laughed again.
Then, from his shirt pocket, he took a small plastic bag.
“Sugar and cinnamon,” I said.
“This is star dust,” he whispered as he carefully sprinkled it onto the triangles of hot toast.
I quickly took my seat at the kitchen table because I was really hungry.
“We can’t eat toast from outer space at an ordinary kitchen table,” Granddad told me. “We must sit on the floor.”
He spread a clean bath towel on the floor and placed the pan with the toast, and a pitcher of orange juice, by the towel.
So Granddad and I sat on the ordinary kitchen floor, drinking ordinary orange juice, and eating toast from outer space. We talked, and Granddad laughed at my knock-knock jokes.
We had almost finished our unusual breakfast when the door opened. In came Mom and Dad. Mom walked with crutches. She had a big white cast on her foot and leg.
The lump in my throat came back.
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “I’m all right. But I’m going to need your help for a while.”
Many weeks passed. I helped my mom. When the doctor finally cut her cast off with a little saw, things at our house were pretty much back to normal.
Then one day I walked around the block to see Alonzo, my best friend. I found him sitting on his front porch with his mom. They looked really sad.
“My dog, Poco, was hit by a car,” Alonzo told me. “My dad took him to the vet.” I could hear the lump in his throat.
“I have a great idea,” I said. “Let’s all go inside and make toast from outer space.”

At 53, Elizabeth seized another learning opportunity. She and her daughter Jessie were walking down the street in Bendigo when a man in a black coat and top hat introduced himself as a missionary from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He offered them a book and said it would teach them God’s plan for His children. Elizabeth always eagerly accepted free books, but this one would change their lives.

All through that night, Jessie read The Book of Mormon to her mother, and the Holy Spirit affirmed to them this book was true.

Elizabeth and three of her children were baptized on 2 February 1902. A couple years later, her two grandsons were baptized.

That could have happened to me. After graduating from college, I worked for a couple of years at a local nonprofit organization, where I was inspired by the skills of a new manager. I decided to pursue a master’s degree so that I could gain the kinds of skills he had.

Between the time I was accepted to the program and the time I was to attend, we learned that I was pregnant with our first child. Pregnancy is always a challenge, but due to some medical complications, pregnancies are particularly difficult for me. When I arrived to begin my master’s program, the heaviest question in my heart was whether I should be pursuing the degree at all. After all, I was now anticipating motherhood.

In my new ward, I was promptly called to be an assistant nursery leader. The counselor in the bishopric who set me apart for my new calling laid his hands upon my head and bestowed upon me all the usual authority, gifts, and admonitions attendant on a calling in nursery. Then, speaking to my most hidden fears and my deepest questions, he told me, in the name of Christ, to pursue and complete my master’s degree, that this was the will of God.

So I did.

Near the conclusion of my master’s degree, my husband received a good job offer in Washington, DC. I was preparing to be a stay-at-home mom to our then-one-year-old daughter. I felt unsettled by the move, and I wanted the confirmation of the Spirit to help soothe me. But the more I prayed, the more agitated I became. So my husband and I prayed, fasted, and attended the temple to seek guidance about whether or not to take the job.

The matter of our imminent move remained unresolved until the very last day of class in my master’s program. I felt a tremendous and unmistakable outpouring of the Spirit, and a clear, quiet, and calm voice spoke to my mind, telling me I would return for a PhD. I knew why I had been so uneasy about the move to Washington.

I didn’t tell my husband right away what my prompting had been—only that I’d had one and that I was at peace. We decided that when he had the same sense of peace, we could make a plan together based on our individual promptings.

Soon thereafter, he felt strongly that we should make a short-term move to Finland for an internship he had been offered. From Finland I applied for the doctoral program. In Finland my husband started his business.

I finished the doctoral program in about three years and soon found myself—most unexpectedly—on the full-time faculty at BYU. In addition to food, clothing, and shelter, our work has afforded us freedom, family time, fulfillment, challenges, and a great deal of happiness. We now have four children, and they are—individually and collectively—the central joy of my life. This was a future only God could see for me.

“My other grandmother, my dad’s mother, was a visiting teacher to a family during a flu epidemic after World War I. The whole family was sick with the flu; three of them had already died. My grandmother went into their home and took care of them and even dressed the bodies of the dead members in preparation for their funeral. I have always been impressed with what a faithful visiting teacher she was.

“I myself came down with smallpox, a deadly disease in those days. I was isolated in the granary, which had a stove. Pillows were tied on my hands so that I couldn’t scratch the big pox that covered my body. The Lord blessed me so that today I don’t have any pockmarks. I also had diphtheria, another deadly disease, and the Lord spared my life then too.

“I loved school and had some wonderful teachers. One of them was ElRay L. Christiansen, who later became a General Authority. He would tell us about different pieces of music and make them live for us. I still have a great love for opera and classical music.”

Elder Reeve believes that children must be acquainted with Heavenly Father. If He is the center of their lives and they love Him and talk with Him, then He can take them through any trial or problem. It might not all be pleasant, but they can survive.

“God is real. He lives, and He loves you. He loves every child; He doesn’t have favorites. He is as close to you as you will let Him be by how you live, how you mind your parents, and how you keep His commandments.”

Six-year-old Alma Elizabeth Mineer looked around the dark insides of the huge sailing ship, where a flickering oil lamp served as a night-light. In the shadows she could barely see some of the other passengers asleep in their berths.
She liked to listen to the night sounds. As the ship gently rocked from one side to the other, its big wooden beams creaked and groaned. Mothers sang softly to quiet their children. Although Alma could not always understand the words, she discovered that English and German and Swedish and Norwegian and Danish babies all cried in the same noisy language! Sometimes before falling asleep, Alma felt sad thinking about her home and friends and village in Sweden that she had left behind.
During the daytime Alma Elizabeth liked to climb up the stairs and walk out on the deck. At the front of the ship she would look and look, trying to see America. But day after day all she could see was the Atlantic Ocean in every direction.
Alma Elizabeth liked to watch the huge canvas sails puff full with the wind. She wished she could climb up the ropes like the sailors did. New friends often invited her to play games with them. Occasionally she tried out new English words. When they reached Utah, she knew she would have to speak English instead of Swedish.
Sometimes Alma Elizabeth crept into the part of the ship where the sailors lived. She became a favorite of the crew’s cook. He often gave her special treats, and she liked that because her family’s meals were not too tasty. They could cook only five meals each week. And the sea biscuits were so hard that she had to stomp on them with her shoes to break them open.
For five weeks in May and June of 1861, their ship, the Monarch of the Sea, sailed across the Atlantic. When it finally docked in New York harbor, little boats took the Latter-day Saint immigrants ashore. They all stayed overnight in a giant hall called Castle Gardens.
That night while the children tried to sleep on the floor of the building, Alma Elizabeth’s brother August discovered some sacks of brown sugar right next to him. One had a small hole in it and was spilling its contents. Alma Elizabeth and August had tasted no sugar or candy during the ocean voyage. So August found a spoon. Soon they had had a grand feast. But by morning they were sick!
Alma Elizabeth, with her family and the other Saints, took a long train trip to Iowa. There they joined wagon trains going to Utah. She walked the entire way, except when she got into a wagon to cross a deep river.
Alma Elizabeth’s father had trouble walking. In Sweden he had been a concert violinist and an orchestra director. Then rheumatism crippled him. Slowly he learned to use his hands and feet again, but it was difficult and painful. Elizabeth’s father was unable to keep up with the wagon train, and he insisted that his family go on ahead, promising to catch up with them.
Her father struggled on until he spotted a light. It was a camp of soldiers on their way to the Civil War. One soldier spoke Swedish. When they learned that Alma Elizabeth’s father was a musician, they found a violin and he played it for them. In the morning they took him on horseback and caught up with the wagon train.
When Alma Elizabeth’s family reached Utah they settled in Mount Pleasant. As a pioneer she worked hard. She learned how to card and spin wool, weave carpets, milk cows, knit and crochet, make gloves out of buckskin, weave hats out of braided straw, stack hay, and bundle wheat.
One time she collected wheat left in the fields after the harvest and sold it for $10. With some of the money, she bought ten yards of calico for her first party dress.
The day Alma Elizabeth turned eight years old she saw some elders baptizing people in a nearby creek. Her folks did not know about the baptismal service, so she ran home to tell them. With their permission she, too, was baptized in the creek. Afterward she walked to the meetinghouse to be confirmed. But after the confirmation, she felt very tired and fell sound asleep on a seldom-used church bench where people could not see her. When the meeting ended everyone went home. Alma Elizabeth’s family became concerned about her long absence, and they sent her big sister Helen to search for her. She found Alma Elizabeth still asleep in the now empty meetinghouse.
On a hot July day when Alma Elizabeth was ten years old, she went to a ward meeting. The people felt very discouraged because their crops needed rain. President Brigham Young came to the meeting, and she listened carefully when he rose to his feet and spoke. He promised the people that if they would listen to his words, the Lord would open the heavens and send the rains.
The words hardly left the prophet’s lips when Alma Elizabeth noticed the gathering clouds. Soon they filled the sky, and rain poured down in torrents. On that day she received a great testimony of the gospel that she remembered all her life.

To this day, I am deeply impressed by the way my family worked after having lost everything following World War II! I remember my father—a civil servant by education and experience—taking on several difficult jobs, among which were coal miner, uranium miner, mechanic, and truck driver. He left early in the morning and often returned late at night in order to support our family. My mother started a laundry and worked countless hours doing menial labor. She enlisted my sister and me in her business. With my bike I became the pickup and delivery service. It felt good to be able to help the family in a small way, and though I did not know it at the time, the physical labor turned out to be a blessing to my health as well.
It wasn’t easy, but the work kept us from dwelling too much on the difficulties of our circumstances. Although our situation didn’t change overnight, it did change. That’s the thing about work. If we simply keep at it—steady and constant—things certainly will improve.