Gospel Story Finder

My dad had said that we could go away for the weekend—just him and me. We were going to camp up at Muskrat Bridge Park. Then Dad lost his job.
He had worked for Mr. Stapley at the warehouse on Fulmer Street, but it burned down last month. All the money that Dad had been saving went for my little sister, Elizabeth. She was born the day after the fire. Mom had had to go to the hospital two weeks before Elizabeth was born, because of complications. Then our car broke down, and we couldn’t afford to get it fixed right away. Mom is better now, though, and Elizabeth is just fine.
We had a family council and talked about us not having enough money and about Dad’s not having found another job yet. Dad said that the Church was going to help us with food for a while. Then he stopped talking, and his eyes got all watery. That had happened before, when he bore his testimony one fast Sunday.
I went and got the money that I’d been saving to buy a hamster and gave it to Dad. It wasn’t very much—one dollar and seventy-six cents—but it was all that I had. I told him that I wanted to help.
Dad didn’t say anything. He just pulled me close to him and held me longer than I could ever remember. I think that he was crying again, because my cheek felt wet.
After supper that night Dad asked me if I wanted to sleep out in our backyard. It’s a lot smaller than any campground at Muskrat Bridge Park, but the sky looked just as big in the yard as it did there. And there weren’t any more stars there than there were right here, only these weren’t quite as bright.
We lay in our sleeping bags and looked at the sky. We saw a shooting star. It seemed to go by about as fast as summer did. And that was too fast.
We talked, too, about lots of things. Like Grandma Chaboude’s laughing spells. One time she laughed so long and hard that she cried more tears than most people do when somebody they love dies. We talked about how far dandelions can fly. We wondered aloud about the dent in the blade of the old cavalry sword that was handed down to Dad from his Great-Great-Great-Uncle Wakefield. Had the dent been made during a battle in the War Between the States?
Most of all we talked about something else that was on my mind. I told Dad that I had been praying all week for something to happen so that we could still go to Muskrat Bridge Park. But nothing had happened. And looking up into the night sky and seeing how really big space was and how really small I was, I started thinking that maybe I was too little for God to bother with.
Dad turned his head toward me, his lips turning up into a smile as high as the points of the skinny moon. “God hears everyone’s prayers, Nathan,” he said. “And that includes children’s. Maybe especially children’s. And when a person prays with all his heart, he receives answers.”
“But I didn’t get an answer!”
Dad took a small crawly thing off my pillow and put it on the lawn. I think that maybe he was giving me time to think. I looked over at Dad, and he was staring up at the stars, looking harder at them than I’d ever seen him look at anything before. His eyes were shiny, like the leaves on our cherry tree on frosty mornings. Then he looked at me in a gentle way. “You are a child of God,” he said softly. “That means that you are very special. Heavenly Father loves you even more than I do—and I love you with all my heart and soul.
“The Lord created this whole world for you,” he continued. “Our Elder Brother Jesus gave His life for you—and for all of us. So don’t ever think that you are too small for God to bother with. Heavenly Father is happy when you’re happy. And so am I.”
Now that I think about it, I guess that it isn’t important where Dad and I spend time together. In fact, I’m glad that we camped out in our backyard. I liked it just as much as I would have at Muskrat Bridge Park. Maybe even more—because we talked about some pretty important stuff that night that we might not have discussed at the park because things would have been different. I would have gotten a “yes” answer to my prayer and not wondered about things. But as it was, we had spent a special night together. Just me, my dad, and the stars.

Brothers and sisters, six months ago as we met together in our general conference, my sweet wife, Frances, lay in the hospital, having suffered a devastating fall just a few days earlier. In May, after weeks of valiantly struggling to overcome her injuries, she slipped into eternity. Her loss has been profound. She and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple on October 7, 1948. Tomorrow would have been our 65th wedding anniversary. She was the love of my life, my trusted confidant, and my closest friend. To say that I miss her does not begin to convey the depth of my feelings.

This conference marks 50 years since I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles by President David O. McKay. Through all these years I have felt nothing but the full and complete support of my sweet companion. Countless are the sacrifices she made so that I could fulfill my calling. Never did I hear a word of complaint from her as I was often required to spend days and sometimes weeks away from her and from our children. She was an angel, indeed.

I wish to express my thanks, as well as those of my family, for the tremendous outpouring of love which has come to us since Frances’s passing. Hundreds of cards and letters were sent from around the world expressing admiration for her and condolences to our family. We received dozens of beautiful floral arrangements. We are grateful for the numerous contributions which have been offered in her name to the General Missionary Fund of the Church. On behalf of those of us whom she left behind, I express deep gratitude for your kind and heartfelt expressions.

Of utmost comfort to me during this tender time of parting have been my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the knowledge I have that my dear Frances lives still. I know that our separation is temporary. We were sealed in the house of God by one having authority to bind on earth and in heaven. I know that we will be reunited one day and will never again be separated. This is the knowledge that sustains me.

Third, ward families provide encouragement. Becky and Danny’s second child was born prematurely. Recounting the days, then weeks and years, of caring for a critically ill child, Becky says, “It was difficult for my mother to watch us dealing with this situation. She wished that she could take it away from me. We were living in a distant state, and Mother would call me on the phone and feel so helpless as she listened to our daily struggles. One day she said to me, ‘Becky, I don’t know how you will get through this, but I am confident that you can.’ That encouragement was a turning point for me.”

I have a believing heart that started with a simple testimony that came when I was a child. I was with my father out on a farm away from our home, trying to find things to do until my father was ready to go home. Over the fence from our place were some old sheds that would attract a curious boy, and I was adventurous. I started to climb through the fence, and I heard a voice calling me by name and saying, “Don’t go over there!” I turned to look at my father to see if he were talking to me, but he was far away at the other end of the field. There was no person in sight. I realized then, as a child, that there were persons beyond my sight, for I had definitely heard a voice.
Another way by which we receive revelation was spoken of by the Prophet Enos. He writes this very significant statement in his record in the Book of Mormon: “And while I was thus struggling in the spirit, the voice of the Lord came into my mind” (Enos 1:10).
In other words, sometimes we hear the voice of the Lord coming into our minds, and when it comes, the impressions are just as strong as though He were sounding a trumpet in our ears.
May I bear humble testimony to that fact? I was once in a situation where I needed help. The Lord knew I needed help, as I was on an important mission. I was awakened in the early hours of the morning and was corrected on something that I had planned to do in a contrary way, and the way was clearly defined before me as I lay there that morning, just as surely as though someone had sat on the edge of my bed and told me what to do.
We as individual members of the Church may receive personal revelation by the power of the Holy Ghost. The Lord said to the Prophet Joseph Smith in the early days of the Church, “Yea, behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall dwell in your heart. Now, behold, this is the spirit of revelation” (D&C 8:2–3). The Prophet Joseph Smith said, “No man can receive the Holy Ghost without receiving revelations. The Holy Ghost is a revelator.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, Section 6, sub-heading 64, paragraph 2, p. 328.)
May I change that about and give it emphasis to the Latter-day Saints and say, any Latter-day Saint who has been baptized and who has had hands laid upon him from those officiating, commanding him to receive the Holy Ghost, and who has not received a revelation of the spirit of the Holy Ghost, has not received the gift of the Holy Ghost to which he is entitled. Therein lies a very important matter. Let me refer to what the Prophet Joseph Smith said about revelation:
“A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation, for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas so that by noticing it, you may find it fulfilled the same day or soon; that is, those things that were presented into your minds by the Spirit of God will come to pass, and thus learning by the spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation until you become perfect in Christ Jesus.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, Section 3, subheading 2 from the end, p. 151.)
On what matters may you receive a revelation? Is it startling to you to hear that you—all members of the Church who have received the Holy Ghost—may receive revelation? Not for the president of the Church, not about how to look after the affairs pertaining to the ward, the stake, or the mission in which you live; but every individual within his own area of responsibility has the right to receive revelation by the Holy Ghost.
Every man has the privilege to exercise these gifts and these privileges in the conduct of his own affairs, in bringing up his children in the way they should go, in the management of his business, or whatever he does. It is his right to enjoy the spirit of revelation and of inspiration to do the right things, to be wise and prudent, just and good, in everything that he does. I know that this is a true principle and that is the thing that I would like the Latter-day Saints to know. Now then, all of us should try to strive and listen to and obey the sudden ideas that come to us, and if we’ll obey them and develop the ability to hear these promptings we too—each of us—can grow in the spirit of revelation.
Now there’s one more way by which revelations may come, and that is by dreams. Oh, I’m not going to tell you that every dream you have is a direct revelation from the Lord, but I fear that there are those of us who are prone to disregard all and say they have no purpose. And yet all through the scriptures there were recorded incidents where the Lord, by dreams, has directed His people.
Let us see what Parley P. Pratt said about this matter:
“In all ages and dispensations God has revealed many important instructions and warnings to men by means of dreams. When the conscious mind and physical senses are released from their activity, the nerves relaxed, and mankind lies asleep, it is then that the spiritual senses are at liberty in a certain degree to assume their functions, to recall some faint outline, some confused and half-defined recollections of that heavenly world, and those endearing scenes of their former estate. Their kindred spirits then hover about them with the fondest affection, the most anxious solicitude. Spirit communes with spirit, thought meets thought, soul blends with soul, in all the raptures of mutual, pure, and eternal love. In this situation the spiritual organs (and if we could see our spirits, we would know that they have eyes to see, ears to hear, tongues to speak, and so on) may converse with deity, or have communion with angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect.” If we will learn not to be so sophisticated that we disregard that possibility of impressions from those who are beyond sight, then we too may have a dream that may direct us as a revelation.
The revelations of God are the standards by which we measure all learning, and if anything does not agree with the revelations, then we may be certain that it is not truth.
I come to you as one who sits in the company of men who live close to their Heavenly Father. I have seen matters come before the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve in our weekly meetings on which decisions have been reached that were not based upon reasoning, but were based upon an impression which, after that decision had been made, has been found to have been a heaven-sent direction to protect and to guide.
After an important decision has been made, it has been a thrilling thing to hear the president of the Church say, “Brethren, the Lord has spoken.”
The thing that all of us should strive for is to so live, keeping the commandments of the Lord, that He can answer our prayers. If we will live worthy, then the Lord will guide us—by a personal appearance, or by His actual voice, or by His voice coming into our mind, or by impressions upon our heart and our soul. And oh, how grateful we ought to be if the Lord sends us a dream in which is revealed to us the beauties of the eternity or a warning and direction for our special comfort. Yes, if we so live, the Lord will guide us for our salvation and for our benefit.
I want to bear you my humble testimony that I have received by the voice and the power of revelation the knowledge and an understanding that God is.
It was a week following a conference, when I was preparing a radio talk on the life of the Savior and read again the story of His life, crucifixion, and resurrection, that there came to me a testimony, a reality of Him. It was more than just what was on the written page, for in truth, I found myself viewing the scenes with as much certainty as though I had been there in person. I know that these things come by the revelations of the living God.
I bear you my solemn testimony that the Church today is guided by revelation. Every soul in it who has been blessed to receive the Holy Ghost has the power to receive revelation. God help you and me that we will always so live that the Lord can answer the prayers of the faithful through us.

I received a letter from a missionary in California. He was there with his wife and he wrote this: “There have been so many Mormon boys here in uniform, and they have been such fine, outstanding young fellows that they have turned the attitude of the people of this town toward the Mormon Church.”
Now you see they were uncommon boys. Then he told this specific story. He said that one of the women’s clubs was putting on a luncheon at the hotel. The lady in charge had an extra plate placed at the table, and she said, “When the next soldier comes along, we will invite him to occupy this place at the table.” Well, he happened to be a Mormon boy and he didn’t hide his light under a bushel. Like Jesus said, we should let our light so shine that the world, seeing our good works, will glorify our Father in Heaven. (See Matt. 5:16.)
When they passed the coffee around, he didn’t touch the coffee. You see how easy it would have been for the boy to say, “Oh, shucks, Mother isn’t here. Father isn’t here. My bishop isn’t here. I am the only man with all of these women. A little cup of coffee won’t hurt me.”
But he had to show forth the praises of the Lord who had called him out of darkness into the marvelous light, and he wouldn’t touch it. They offered to get him tea and he didn’t want that. Then they wanted to know all about him. That opened the door so he could tell them about how he was raised. And then when they were through eating, they lighted their cigarettes and passed them around. Of course, the young soldier refused. Well, anyway, right there one of those women decided, “If the Mormon elders ever call at my home, I will let them in. I want to know more about a people who can raise a boy like that boy who sat at our table today.” When the missionary wrote me about this lady, she was a very earnest investigator.

I would like to use a short version, as I remember it, of the famous Hugh B. Brown parable to illustrate submission. When he was young, President Brown had a nice yard in front of his home with a lawn, flowers, shrubs, fruit trees, and shade trees. There was a currant bush he had carefully trimmed to be in an attractive shape and to produce the best fruit. Noticing that it had started to branch out again, he went for the pruning shears. As he approached the currant bush, he seemed to hear it say, “Oh please, Mr. Gardener, don’t cut me back, I’m just getting started and I want to be big like the shade trees.”
President Brown responded, “No, my little bush. I am the gardener here and I have planted thee to be a source of fruit and an adornment in this part of my garden, and I am going to prune thee back to size.”
Many years later President Brown was a full colonel in the Canadian forces in France in World War I. He could see the possibility of an illustrious military career. He wanted to become the first LDS general since Book of Mormon times. He was competent and well prepared. The next vacancy as a general should have been his, but when the vacancy occurred, he was called in by his superiors and told, “We are promoting someone else over you.” In effect they were saying, “There has never been a Mormon general in his Majesty’s Royal Forces and there probably never will be.”
He retired to his quarters, crushed with disappointment, and knelt in prayer asking fervently, “Heavenly Father, why couldn’t my prayers have been answered? Haven’t I lived up to my covenants? Haven’t I done everything I was supposed to do? Why? Why?”
And then he heard a voice, an echo from the past, saying, “I am the gardener here. You were not intended for what you sought to be.” Humbled, President Brown then prayed for humility and patience to endure the pruning and to grow as the Lord would have him grow.
I translated that story for him on a tour of South America. He told me afterwards, “Bob, I know if I had continued in that direction I would never have developed the way the Lord wanted me to so I could eventually serve him as an apostle and in the First Presidency.”

Of course, sometimes you’ll want your mom and dad to listen, not talk. As you’ve probably noticed, many adults suffer from acute Advice-Giving Syndrome. I know I do. My daughter Christy will often start to tell me about a problem she’s having at school or with friends, and immediately I stop listening and start telling her what she should do. I know that Christy wants to express herself more than she wants my advice, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.
A student of mine has a good approach to use on parents (or any other adult, for that matter) who tend to give advice when they should be listening. “My parents love to give me advice,” he says, “and lots of times, I don’t mind. But sometimes I really want them to listen to what I have to say, so I’ll tell them, ‘Mom and Dad, I want to tell you something, and I want you to listen—without talking—until I’m finished. I really want to tell you this, but if you’re not going to listen, I’m not going to tell you. If you’ll listen to me, then I’ll listen to what you have to say.’ That usually works.”

Elder Allan Forrest Packer remembers that as a boy of 10 or 12, he didn’t always feel that he was getting answers to his prayers. One day while working with his father, Boyd K. Packer, now President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, young Allan expressed his concern.
His father taught him by analogy, saying that pilots don’t use their parachutes every time they fly, but they are still in the practice of wearing them. President Packer encouraged his son to continue to pray, to be patient, and to have the faith that when an answer was needed, he would have one.
“That lesson helped me through the early years of developing my testimony,” says Elder Packer, recently called to the First Quorum of the Seventy.

Sister Cook was parked in the driveway, the engine of her car running. Molly hurriedly finished putting on her Sunday shoes and ran for the front door.
She stopped suddenly. Her scriptures were not on the table next to the door. “Where are my scriptures?” she called to her mother who was sitting in the living room.
“I don’t know. Sorry, honey.”
“They were right here,” Molly insisted. “Somebody moved them.”
“I guess you’ll have to find them later.”
Molly yanked open the door and ran to the waiting car. “Justin probably grabbed my scriptures,” she muttered angrily.
Three-year-old Justin liked snooping in his sister’s belongings. Her homework and books and baseball equipment were always disappearing. Later she would find them in the strangest places. Her soccer shin guards ended up in the refrigerator once. Justin had put them in the vegetable bin. Sometimes it was funny.
But it wasn’t funny today. It never was on Sundays. Even though her Valiant A teacher picked her up every week for church, Molly felt like she was alone. She was the only child in the ward whose family didn’t go to church with her.
On Saturday nights she set her alarm clock for 7:00 A.M. When it went off, she got up and took a quiet bath and fixed her own breakfast. Everybody else was still asleep, although sometimes Justin came out to the kitchen in his pajamas and ate a bowl of cereal with her.
By the time she left, Mom and Dad would be in the living room, reading the Sunday newspaper, its pages spread out all over the couch. Later they would play tennis. In her mind Molly could imagine them hitting the ball back and forth across the net, laughing and enjoying the cool fall weather. Justin would be running after the stray balls and giggling.
Her parents never stopped her from going to church, but they never went with her, either. Most of the time Molly tried not to mind. But sometimes it hurt.
Mom and Dad came to a meeting at church only once—to see her baptism. Molly had insisted that she wanted to be baptized. She had been awfully disappointed because her father wasn’t the one to baptize her. And afterward her parents had left without staying to visit with the other people in the ward who had attended.
Sister Cook always told Molly to give her family time to feel more comfortable with the ward members. Someday her parents would regain their testimonies that the gospel was true and would come back to church.
One Sunday morning Sister Cook had given a lesson about the bishop and the ward family. The bishop was like a father to the ward, she had said. He was there to help the ward members—to help and counsel them, just as a father does. The members of the church were like brothers and sisters, and they could be like one big, happy family.
Thinking of that had helped for a while, but when she looked around the chapel at all the families sitting together, Molly again felt sad. It just wasn’t the same sitting next to Sister Cook’s family during sacrament meeting.
Today, at the end of Primary, the Primary president, Sister Miller, passed out the speaking parts for the Children’s Sacrament Meeting Presentation. She gave Molly a folded slip of paper and winked at her. The paper read: “Your topic is ‘Because Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, they have given me a special earthly family.’ Tell two or three reasons why your family is special to you.”
Molly read the paper twice on the way home. She felt as if someone had knocked the breath out of her. Why did Sister Miller give me a talk about families? I can’t do this assignment. Doesn’t she know how I feel? My family isn’t active at all. They don’t even like church! It isn’t fair!
When Sister Cook pulled up to her house, Molly mumbled good-bye, slammed the car door, and ran up the sidewalk. The entry hall shook when she slammed the front door too.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Mom asked. Still wearing her tennis clothes, she was putting the rackets and balls in the hall closet.
“Nothing.” Molly started for her bedroom, then turned back to look at her mother. “I have a part in the Primary Sacrament Meeting Presentation. I’ll get to speak at the pulpit, just like the bishop.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’s in three weeks. Will you and Dad and Justin come and hear me give my talk?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said. “We’ll see.” She smiled and went into the kitchen to fix lunch.
That’s what Mom had said last year when Molly had had a part in the Book of Mormon program. But they hadn’t gone.
Molly almost crumpled up her piece of paper and threw it in the wastebasket. Then she remembered last year when she had told the story of Nephi building the ship. Nephi had believed that the Lord would help him, and he had prayed for guidance to build a ship so that he and his family could cross the ocean. Well, that’s what she would do too. Just like Nephi, she would pray for help and the Lord would help her.
Suddenly Molly had a warm, peaceful feeling. She felt that the spirit of the Holy Ghost was with her, just as she had been promised.
As she spent the next three weeks preparing and practicing her talk, she started noticing the many things that her parents did for her and how much they loved her.
Mom fixed her favorite snacks, helped her with science projects, and always rushed to hug her when she came home from school. Dad played soccer and softball with her, and at bedtime he would tell her the most wonderful stories. It was always a warm, special time for just the two of them. Even though Justin sometimes seemed like a pest, she was happy that he was her brother. They sang funny songs and giggled, read books, and played at the park together.
Finally the day of the program came. Sister Cook picked her up, and she sat in her assigned seat near the pulpit.
When the Primary children sang “I Am a Child of God” and “I Lived in Heaven,” Molly felt close to her ward “family.” And she remembered how much Heavenly Father loved her. She had three wonderful families—a heavenly family, a ward family, and an earthly family!
When it was her turn to go to the microphone, Sister Cook gave her an encouraging smile. And when she started her topic, saying, “Because Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, they have given me a special earthly family.” Molly was glad that Sister Miller had given her this talk. She didn’t feel hurt or angry anymore about going to church alone. Even though they didn’t come to church with her, she really did have a special earthly family.
Just then the back door to the chapel opened. Molly’s heart began to pound as Mom, Dad, and Justin quietly walked into the chapel and found a place to sit. They smiled at her, and she couldn’t help grinning back. She started her talk over again: “Because Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, they have given me a special earthly family.” And she knew that it was true.

I am a student. I am a seminary teacher. I am a full-time employee. And I am also a youth Sunday School teacher. Sometimes it feels like I’m always rushing to make time for all my responsibilities.
When I got my calling to teach on Sundays in addition to teaching in seminary, I followed a strict, busy routine for weeks. Things were going well for a while. But after a few months, everything suddenly became too much to bear. I found myself very exhausted and overwhelmed with all I had to do. There were times I simply wanted to give up my callings because they were too much to handle with school and a full-time job.
I also felt like I wasn’t doing a good job in my callings. While I considered asking to be released, the idea broke my heart.
My heavy thoughts and feelings made me feel like I was about to explode. One night while crying because of these overwhelming feelings, I felt so alone and unsure of what to do.
I prayed sincerely for help and direction. I also asked for priesthood blessings for comfort and strength. Ultimately, I realized I had been so occupied with worries and everything else in my life that I had forgotten how my Church callings actually helped me find rest and also connect with the Spirit when I needed it the most.
After realizing this, I knew that asking to be released was not the right choice for me. But Heavenly Father helped me see how I could adjust and simplify my schedule.
Relying on His guidance has helped me make my routine less stressful. As President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, reminded us, “While there may be times when our Church callings require more intense effort and unusual focus, we need to strive to keep things in proper balance.”2
I am so grateful for the opportunities I have to serve in the gospel of Jesus Christ, especially now that Heavenly Father has led me and helped me simplify my life.
Abegail P., Camarines Norte, Philippines

After the New Era printed “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,” our stake gathered together a special group of young women and taught them the song. My daughter and I heard them sing it at a stake Mutual event. This song touched Shannon deeply. She heard it again at girls’ camp that year. At the close of that camp an event took place which I shall remember as long as forever. We closed camp testimony meeting singing this wonderful song. As we sang “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,” Shannon and I embraced each other, crying and singing all at once. Thank you for that memory! I had less than a year left of holding my daughter. At the last she was in too much pain to be touched, and finally she was paralyzed so she couldn’t hug me anymore either.

There is a young man in the Laie Park YSA ward who just recently got baptized. His name is Kyle Geroski. He shared with me a story that led him along his conversion path. Kyle was living in St. Louis Missouri. He had always felt in his heart a desire to do good and to serve others. But the environment he was in was not conducive to his desire. He wanted to change the path he was on and felt a prompting that he needed to leave his family and friends in Missouri. He acted on the prompting and made the decision to move to Hawaii to be with his Brother Dustin, who had joined the Church a few years earlier and was attending BYU-Hawaii. Dustin also happens to be the Ward Mission Leader for the Laie Park YSA ward.

Soon after arriving in Hawaii, Kyle had his first lesson with the missionaries. During the discussion, he shared how he seemed to have always known what was right in his heart, but how it seemed to be in conflict with his surroundings and what his friends were pursuing. The missionaries taught him about the light of Christ, and how it is given to us that we may know right from wrong. Learning about the light of Christ was something new and intriguing to Kyle. After that first discussion, he prayed that he could have a greater understanding of what the light of Christ is.

That evening, Kyle was walking down the street with a friend when they came across a gentleman taking out his trash. As it turns out, this gentleman was Elder Tanner, a service missionary serving here at BYU–Hawaii. They greeted Elder Tanner and talked with him briefly. Then Elder Tanner turned to Kyle and said, “I have something in my heart that I would like to talk to you about. Have you ever heard of the light of Christ?” He then proceeded to teach Kyle about the light of Christ. It was the very knowledge that he had been seeking and praying about just a few hours before. It was a testament to Kyle that the Lord hears and answers prayers. This experience solidified his desire to continue the missionary discussions and was instrumental in his decision to be baptized.

The Lord knew Kyle was seeking guidance and answers. The Lord also knew that Elder Tanner had the answers and was prepared to act. The prompting was given and Elder Tanner acted and was an instrument in the hands of God in fulfilling his purpose. Kyle was baptized last month, on his 22nd birthday.

In addition to appreciating similarities, we can welcome differences with curiosity instead of fear. When I was an undergraduate student at BYU, my best friend, Melody, was an international student from China with different religious beliefs. Our initial encounters involved laughter about language differences and getting through Economics 110, but our friendship grew because we had fun being together. What started with time as roommates and our first trip to New York turned into a lifetime of friendship and adventures in Asia and elsewhere.

Adriana was bored. She wanted to play with her twin sister, Diana. But Diana had gone to buy food at the mercado with Mamá. Adriana sighed. The house felt very empty. She wished she’d gone with them.
Adriana decided to visit her neighbor Margarita. Margarita’s kids were all grown up, and she was like an abuela to Adriana. They always had lots of fun together.
Adriana went outside. The hot sun shone down on her as she walked to Margarita’s house. She poked her head inside the door. “Margarita, are you home?”
“Sí, I am in the cocina,” Margarita called. Adriana walked in. Margarita was sitting at the kitchen table with her head down.
“Buenas tardes, Adriana,” said Margarita. She looked up and gave a small smile. But she seemed sad.
“Is something wrong?” asked Adriana.
Margarita sighed. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
How can I help her feel better? Adriana thought. Margarita always seemed happy when they cooked together. “May I help you make tortillas?”
“I just finished making some,” said Margarita. She lifted a cloth napkin to show a stack of tortillas.
“Then may I help you eat tortillas?” Adriana asked with a grin.
Margarita laughed. “Of course. Let me just heat up some frijoles to go with them.”
Adriana stood by Margarita at the stove and stirred black refried beans in a pot. When the beans were done, she carried them to the mesa. Margarita brought the tortillas and the queso to the table too.
Adriana took a warm tortilla and spread beans over it. Then she sprinkled the cheese on top. It looked delicioso! Adriana couldn’t wait to take a bite. But there was something she wanted to do first.
“May I please say an oración?” Adriana asked Margarita.
“Sure.”
Adriana closed her eyes and folded her arms. “Padre Celestial, we thank Thee for this food. Please bless it to make us healthy and strong. And please help Margarita with whatever she needs. I’m glad she’s my friend. In the name of Jesucristo, amen.”
Adriana opened her eyes. Margarita had a big smile—a real one this time. While they ate, they talked about school and fútbol and books. Adriana loved talking with Margarita.
When they finished eating, Adriana gave Margarita a big abrazo. “Thank you for the snack. I had a great time!”
Margarita hugged Adriana back. “Thank you, Adriana. I needed a friend today.”
Adriana beamed. “I’m glad we’re amigas.”
“I’m glad we’re friends too,” Margarita said. “Why don’t you take the rest of these tortillas home? I’m so full.”
Adriana skipped all the way back to her casa. She felt full too—and not just from the tortillas! She was full of friendship from head to toe.

Religion was an important part of our lives in Nigeria. My husband, Okoro, and I had great faith in Jesus Christ and loved Him. After we moved to Sweden, all our time was consumed when our twins were born three months early. We lived for four months in the hospital and didn’t go to any church at that time.

Later, we wanted to go to church again, but we did not find a church that felt right for us. We wanted a church that our whole family could attend for all our lives and forever. This desire continued for two years, but we were bothered that we had gotten out of the habit of going to church and praying together as a family.

When the children were a year old, I was out during a terrible snowstorm so I could attend school and learn Swedish. I heard someone call out from behind me. When I looked back, I saw two beautiful young women. I didn’t understand what they were saying, but I did recognize the words “Jesus Christ.”

When they realized I did not speak Swedish, they asked, “Do you speak English?” When I told them I did, they said, “We want to talk to you about Jesus Christ.”

“What about Him?” I asked. “I know Him!”

They laughed and were so excited that they walked up to me. I was impressed and eager to know what they had to say. They said they were missionaries of Jesus Christ, and I agreed to meet with them again and talk more about Jesus. As I left, I felt happy. When I looked back at them, they were just standing there radiating the same joy I was feeling.

When she found the Church, Sister Okoro-Omaka “shed beautiful tears because I was so happy to be coming back to my Savior.”
When I came home from school, I said to my husband, “Sweetheart, guess what. I have found the church where we are going to be members!” I was shivering, I was so excited. I did not know where all these feelings were coming from, but I was happy deep in my heart about meeting the missionaries.

Soon we began learning about the restored Church of Jesus Christ with the missionaries. I shed beautiful tears because I was so happy to be coming back to my Savior. I had no questions about what they taught us until we came to the Book of Mormon. I had a hard time believing anything about it. The missionaries, however, asked me to read the Book of Mormon and pray about it. I prayed sincerely every day for weeks to know if it was really the word of God, but I never read it.

After several weeks without an answer from God, I boarded a train for a trip to Stockholm. On the way, I pulled out the Book of Mormon and began to read.

I read the introduction and the Testimony of Three Witnesses and Eight Witnesses, and I read about Joseph Smith. I was reading it and reading it and reading it. By the time I got to Stockholm, I was crying, shivering, and covered with goosebumps. I felt overwhelmed with the Spirit of God. I knew from personal revelation who Joseph Smith truly was—that he was a prophet and a servant of God. I knew that the Lord had restored the gospel of Jesus Christ to the earth through him.

I then believed all that the missionaries had told me. Once I had read the Book of Mormon for myself, I knew it was true. I told the missionaries I wanted to be baptized. My husband brought our whole family to show their support for me.

After my baptism, we started praying together again as a family, and I began teaching them about what I was learning. Eventually, Okoro asked to meet with the missionaries again. He embraced their teachings, read the Book of Mormon, and prayed about it. He received the same answer I had, and he also asked to be baptized. At last, our whole family was united in our forever Church.

For Brother and Sister Okoro-Omaka, reading the Book of Mormon was key to their conversion.

Katherine Kitterman has always been curious about her great-grandmother, Clara Turner, who died when Katherine was just a baby. She found some taped interviews of her great-grandmother and began transcribing them. Eventually this became her Individual Worth Value Project. She has spent dozens of hours at the computer recording her great-grandmother’s history so other family members can read and enjoy it.
“Some people might think it is boring, but it’s fun,” says Katherine. “The first thing to do is to ask questions. Then you become more curious. The more you find out about someone, the more you get to know them.”
Katherine says this project taught her how important it is to keep a journal. “I’m really interested in the everyday things my great-grandmother did, like chores and school, sewing rag rugs, or making silk from cocoons on mulberry trees. This made me realize that things we don’t think are very out of the ordinary or exciting would be very interesting to our posterity.”

Earlier, I told you of a time when John Taylor was prompted to help Sister Emily Woodmansee by giving her $50. Let me share with you the rest of her story.

When Emily was 12 years old she heard LDS missionaries preaching the gospel in her neighborhood and quickly became convinced of the truth of their words. Emily’s family and friends were less than thrilled with her enthusiasm for the Church. She was told by her father that if she joined the Church she would not be welcome in their home. Despite this opposition Emily was baptized when she was 20 years old and immediately left England for the United States with her older sister, Julia, who had also converted. Upon their arrival in America, Emily and Julia traveled from New York to Iowa where they joined a handcart company to make the Mormon trek west to Utah. Their company experienced many difficult trials and may not have made it to Utah except for the timely rescuers sent from Salt Lake City by Brigham Young.

Emily entered into the covenant of plural marriage in 1857 in Salt Lake City. The couple had one child before her husband left on a mission for the Church. He had been gone three years when Emily received a message from him stating that he would not be returning to Utah and severed their relationship. Following this difficult trial Emily married Joseph Woodmansee in 1864 in Salt Lake City and bore him eight children…Emily was well-known for her abilities as a poet. Many of her poems were published in various magazines, journals, and used as text in our hymnbook (http://marialouisapickett.homestead.com/Emily_Hill_Mills_Woodmansee.htm).

Isaac Ernsten pulls on a pair of rubber gloves while one of the other young men in the quorum helps tie a hospital gown over his white shirt and tie. They all put on surgical masks and make sure they have both the sacrament trays before they walk into the hospital room. The man in the bed is one of many who has requested that the young men bring the sacrament to him.
Each Sunday, patients in the Salt Lake Regional Medical Center who can’t make it to church have church brought to them by the young men from the Salt Lake Emigration Stake. During the months of January and July, it’s the responsibility of the young men from the 21st North Ward.
“In church, some people take the sacrament just because it’s a part of the sacrament meeting,” says Isaac, a priest who helps bring the sacrament to hospital patients. “These people have to request that the sacrament be brought to them. I think it means a lot to them. Some of them are so happy to see us when we get there. I can tell that they really want the sacrament.”
Most of the young men will admit that sometimes it makes them a bit nervous to be around people who are seriously injured or dying, but they feel it is their duty, and they enjoy doing it. And even though the man in the hospital bed does not feel well, he is happy to see them come in.
The stained glass windows around the small chapel glow with the bright light from outside. The hospital branch uses a chapel that was built by the Catholic Church when the hospital was known as Holy Cross Hospital. More than half the congregation is made up of the young men from the 21st North Ward, and there are fewer than a dozen of them. Others in attendance include the branch presidency, Relief Society presidency, a few patients who feel well enough to leave their beds, and some hospital staff.
It takes one deacon only a few minutes to pass the sacrament to everyone. Then the young men put on the sacrament meeting program. They give the talks, offer the prayers, and fill in wherever else they are needed.
“In our home ward, preparing the sacrament can sometimes become routine,” says Abe Daris, a priest who has helped prepare, bless, or pass the sacrament at the hospital since he was a deacon. “Not that it should be routine, but here it is something more. It makes me realize how important the sacrament is. Even if there are only one or two members who show up, it’s still important enough for a whole quorum to help out a branch president and conduct a sacrament meeting. It’s important that members renew their covenants every week and feel the Spirit.”
After the meeting, the young men visit the individual rooms of people who have requested the sacrament. “That’s my favorite part,” Abe says. “It makes me realize how important the sacrament is to people. When we come with the sacrament, they just light up, and they’re so excited.”
All of the priesthood holders can remember specific people and experiences in the hospital that strengthened their testimonies. Abe remembers a woman who was very ill. “She had a lot of trouble breathing,” he said. “She couldn’t talk at all and could barely move. Even though we couldn’t communicate verbally, we could see in her eyes that she was happy to receive the sacrament. We smiled at her, and she smiled back. We could feel the Spirit and knew she appreciated it. It’s hard to explain. You had to be there.”
One of Abe’s brothers, Jeremiah, a teacher, remembers helping a woman who couldn’t move to take the sacrament. “I had to hold the sacrament water out and pour it into her mouth,” he says. “That was probably one of the more memorable experiences. I was helping someone who couldn’t do it for herself. She was really happy to get the sacrament. I’m sure she was glad I was there.”
Before they bless the sacrament and pass it to the patients, Simon Williams, one of the teachers, enjoys visiting. “There are all sorts of people there. Sometimes we visit new mothers, and sometimes we visit older people,” he says. “When you are in a hospital, I think you have a lot of time to think about life. People start thinking about what they’ve done in the past and start thinking more about Heavenly Father and the gospel. I think taking the sacrament for the people in the hospital can mean more for them than for many people because a lot of the people in the hospital are going to have some pretty big changes in their lives.”
Each week as the young men give service in the hospital, they receive something themselves. One thing they all agree on is that their assignment has given them a greater understanding of the importance of the sacrament. “A lot of times in my home ward I don’t really take the chance to think about what the sacrament means because I’m focused on passing it,” Simon says. “Sometimes we take the sacrament for granted. But it really stands for something amazing.”
The youth feel it is their duty to serve others. But no matter how much they give, they say they are the ones who are rewarded most. “We have such a good time doing it that it’s not really like it’s a sacrifice,” Abe says. “When you’ve been given so much, you have to serve and help other people. This has just been another way for us to give back, and not only to help other people, but to grow ourselves. Our duty to God is to serve Him by serving other people.”

Most Creative Response
The most interesting reply to an invitation for a date that we’ve heard about came from Nikki Mather of Preston, Idaho. She responded to a dance invite from Wade Meek by delivering a jar full of Reese’s Pieces and M&Ms. She told him if there were more M&Ms than Reese’s Pieces, the answer was yes, and vice versa. It’s difficult, however, to tell one kind of candy from the other, so Wade had to have the whole family and half the neighborhood over to cut the candies in half, see if there was chocolate or peanut butter inside, and count them. When they were all tallied the answer was yes, of course.

All his life Matthew had known that his family expected him to go on a mission for the Church. He looked forward to being nineteen when he would be old enough for a mission call—which he felt sure would be to Hawaii. Yet when he was only seventeen, a call came for him to serve as a missionary in New Zealand.
It was a long way from home for such a young missionary. Matthew didn’t understand the language of the Maori people. He didn’t even know exactly how to teach the gospel.
Matthew had been in New Zealand only a short time when a native woman came to him and asked him to go home with her. “Come, please,” she begged. “My boy is hurt. You fix him up.”
One look at the boy lying on the floor told Matthew the boy was badly hurt. “You must get a doctor,” he told the mother.
“The doctor isn’t home. He’s not even in town. Anyhow we don’t need him. You pray and fix up my boy,” the woman insisted.
Her complete confidence amazed Matthew. He had never administered to anyone before, but he could not refuse.
The young missionary got down on his knees. Before offering a prayer for the injured boy, Matthew gave a silent but fervent prayer for himself, that he might be able to do and say whatever was expected of him. Then he administered to the woman’s son.
The boy recovered quickly. This almost miraculous healing through the power of faith and prayer was only the first of many experiences that Matthew Cowley had in the islands of the Pacific.