Gospel Story Finder

I have learned to think more about the future and my choices because I was so close to death. At school, I heard girls complaining about how they were having a “bad hair day.” As I was sitting there in my hot pink wheelchair with a wig on my head, I would think, “Well at least you have hair!” Girls would also complain about their feet hurting from walking around in high heels. I would think to myself, “At least you can walk.” Now I try to focus more on the big picture instead of the small things I used to worry about.

Micky was sitting on the curb when his friend John came and sat down beside him. “What can we do on such a hot day?” John asked.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Micky suggested. “We might find adventure.”
“Adventure? What’s that?” John asked.
“Grandfather said it’s finding new and happy things to do,” Micky explained.
“Let’s go then!” said John.
They walked to the end of the block and turned the corner. “My mother told me not to cross the street,” Micky cautioned.
“Mine too,” said John as they continued up the street.
A dog was sitting on the grass wagging its tail in front of a house. “Hello, doggy,” Micky called.
“Hello, doggy,” John echoed.
The dog followed them wagging his tail. Soon they turned another corner and saw a boy bouncing a ball.
“Hi!” said the boy. “My name’s Steve and we just moved here. Where do you live?”
“Way back there. I’m Micky and this is my friend John. We’re taking a walk. Would you like to come too?”
“Sure,” said the boy. “Mother says I can take a walk but I mustn’t cross the street.”
“Me neither,” said Micky.
“Same here,” said John.
The friendly dog was still following them wagging his tail. When they came to the end of that block, they saw a low stone wall that went all the way around the corner. Micky stepped up onto the wall. Arms held wide, he balanced himself carefully. “Look, I’m a tightrope walker,” he boasted, putting one foot down right in front of the other.
John climbed up on the wall, too, and followed Micky around the corner, arms held wide. “Zoom! I’m an airplane,” he said and laughed.
Steve tagged along behind John. “Chug, chug, chug. I’m a train,” he pretended. The dog followed along on the sidewalk.
When the wall came to an end, the boys jumped down.
“What’s that on the sidewalk?” Micky suddenly asked, pointing at something sparkling.
Micky ran and picked it up. “It’s a rock,” he said, turning it around and around in his hand. It felt warm. “I think I’ll keep this for my collection.”
As John reached for the rock to inspect it, a yellow butterfly fluttered down and settled on his hand. He held his hand very still, hardly breathing. “Wow!” the boys said when the butterfly fluttered on its way again.
Micky put the rock in his pocket and the boys started walking again.
“Is that your dog?” Steve asked.
“No,” Micky answered, his eyes laughing, “he lives around the corner from us and likes to walk too!”
“It would be fun to play ball there sometime,” Micky said, pointing to an empty lot.
“Or build a clubhouse,” John suggested.
“Or have a picnic,” added Steve.
As Micky, John, Steve, and the dog walked around another corner, Micky shouted, “There’s my house.”
John shouted, “Mine too!”
“I live just around the alley from you. That’s my house by the flag. See you later,” Steve said as he hurried home.
“We really found adventure,” Micky said. “And it was fun.”
“And we found two new friends,” said John, as he waved at Steve and then watched the dog turn in at its own house down the street.

The news reached me on a telephone that seldom rang. My two sons and I were working in the yard of a mountain home we built as a place of retreat from my heavy responsibilities as president of Brigham Young University. The caller was Elder Boyd K. Packer. He told me about the revelation on the priesthood, which was just being announced. We exchanged expressions of joy, and I walked back to my work. I sat down on the pile of dirt we had been moving and beckoned to my sons. As I told them that all worthy male members of the Church could now be ordained to the priesthood, I wept for joy.

Is it true that “with God nothing shall be impossible”? (Luke 1:37). José Javier Alarcón, 16, of Maracaibo, has tested this scriptural promise.
“When I was eight or nine years old, my parents divorced. Later a friend invited me to church, and eventually I wanted to be baptized. But my mother, who had been baptized but hadn’t been active for many years, wouldn’t let me. When I was 12, she finally allowed me to be baptized. As I grew in the gospel, I started to pray that my mom would come back to the Church. A couple of years later, she did!”
José Javier’s mother, Miriam, admits that she had been apart from the Church for eight years and “didn’t ever intend to come back. But when my son began praying with great faith for me … something started to happen inside me. I began to feel a strong desire to pray and read the scriptures. One night the Lord changed my heart, and from that night I changed completely. So I owe it to my son. I thank the Father for giving me such a wonderful son!”
“It’s a gift from God,” says José Javier. “I had to do part of it. But it was actually God who did all of these things.”
Now José Javier, his mother, and his younger brother, Jesús David, 10, have visited the temple. José Javier has been baptized for the dead, and their mother has received her endowment.

In 1867 young Brigham Thomas Higgs lived a block away from the temple on North Temple Street. B.T., as he was known by his family and friends, was nine years old when his father, Thomas, began working on the Tabernacle, which was being built next to the temple. B.T. and neighborhood friends could often be found at the Temple Block, delivering lunches or messages to brothers and fathers who worked on the Tabernacle or the Great Temple.
A few of the young boys even worked part-time with their dads at the Temple Block on the various construction projects there. B. T. used a wheelbarrow to deliver to the other workers the wooden pegs his father made for the Tabernacle rafters. There was always some cleaning up or moving of piles of lumber or tools for the young men to help with.
Henry Moyle, a curious young boy, could be found having lunch with his dad on almost any day at the Knox Carpenter Shop on the Temple Block. Known as the “Lunch-Bucket Brigade,” many of the young boys joined workmen gathered at the shop to discuss the topics of the day as they ate lunch together. Young Henry gladly took his father’s lunch to him and lingered as long as possible to listen to the conversation. Later, the young man helped his father, James Moyle, a stone mason, build the temple itself.
Henry and B. T. spent most of their after-school and after-chore time, however, playing ball or another game with friends on the nearby dusty streets. B.T.’s favorite game was “mumble-peg.”
A favorite game for all the young boys and girls in the neighborhood was hide-and-seek. The Temple Block was a perfect place to play this game because there were many large granite stones there to hide among. You could find B.T., Henry, and their brothers and sisters and friends playing among the huge stones on the warm days throughout the year.
Before the railroad came to Salt Lake City, the temple stones were brought to the Temple Block by ox teams from the quarry twenty-five miles south of the city. Annie Wells recalled seeing the “sight of the great stones one at a time being hauled along the streets by two yoke of oxen.” When the oxen slowly marched through town to the Temple Block with their “sacred load,” Annie, like other children, stood and watched them pass “with a feeling of awe and reverence,” praying for the day the temple would be completed. The children wanted to go into Heavenly Father’s house. They knew that they could be a “forever family” after they went to the temple.
When the railroad came to Utah, the oxen were no longer needed to make the long trip from the quarry to the Temple Block. A train line between Salt Lake City and the quarry brought the heavy stones right to the temple site in just a few hours instead of days, as before. The oxen were still used, however, to haul the granite stones down to the train station at the mouth of the canyon.
During hot summer months many mothers and fathers in the city took their children to the shaded groves and cool streams in the nearby canyons. One of the young boys, Joseph Fielding Smith—later a Church President—recalled watching the men loading stones there to be brought to the city for the temple. He remembered the “ox teams and how they tugged with their heavy loads” and that sometimes, when the loads were too heavy, the “rough-cut blocks skidded from the wagons.”
The Temple Block seemed to change every week or so as new stones were brought to the area. Everyone was always anxious to see what new hiding places could be found. As the stones were put in place, the temple walls reached higher and higher in the sky, and the children knew that the temple would soon be completed.
In order to finish the temple, the prophet Wilford Woodruff asked everyone to make special contributions to the temple fund. Even young children were encouraged to give whatever they could. Many children worked on holidays and gave all their earnings to the temple fund. Other children asked to do extra chores around the house in order to earn some money to give.
During this time, one young Primary boy was trying to earn enough money to buy something for himself. He found work at a neighbor’s farm. After working very hard, he was paid twenty-five cents—a lot of money in those days—for his efforts. He “clutched the coin and ran home” excitedly to show his father how much he had earned. “Pa, look what I have!” he proudly announced. “The next time you go to Provo,” he continued, “I can get a new pair of jeans with this money.”
His father reminded him of the prophet’s request for funds for the temple. “President Wilford Woodruff needs ten cents of this quarter for the Salt Lake Temple. Here, I’ll give you fifteen cents for the coin, and we’ll go together to give the dime to our bishop, who will send it to Salt Lake City.” The boy gladly took the money to the bishop so that he, too, could help build the temple.
It took the workers forty years to complete it. President Woodruff dedicated the temple on April 6, 1893, during the first dedication service. All children eight years and older were invited to attend special dedication sessions held in April. Many of the children felt a special spirit during these meetings in the temple, and several saw angels in the room, just as the children had seen angels at the Kirtland Temple’s dedication in 1836.
On Saturday, April 22, 1893, a special session for children under eight years of age was held so that many more Primary children could attend. Seven-year-old LeGrand Richards, later an Apostle, attended this session with his mother. He was impressed when he saw the prophet in the temple that day. He said later, “I always remembered exactly what President Woodruff looked like and what he wore on that day for the rest of my life.” Unlike his older sister, who saw an angel during an earlier dedication session, LeGrand said, “I looked around for angels, but I didn’t see any!”
Primary children were almost always present during the forty years of construction of the Salt Lake Temple. They all helped in some way to build the Great Temple. And during the dedication services, as many as fifteen thousand of them attended the special meetings—one hundred years ago.

I’ve been on my mission for over a year now. Every P-day I’ve written two letters home. One to Mom and Dad and one to Gus. I’ve received a letter every week from Mom or Dad, but Gus has never written. Not one letter! I can’t believe it. We were so close. Mom tells me what he’s doing, but I want to hear from him. They say he hasn’t been to church since my farewell.
I tell them about my experiences, and I bear testimony of the gospel in each letter. Mom said Gus reads them.
That’s all there is to Gus’s story. I wish there were more to tell. I want it to have a happy ending.
I’m going to stop writing now. I feel a real need to pray. I’m a little discouraged. The Jones family won’t make a commitment, and Gus won’t write to me. They will both be in my prayers tonight.
I received a very special letter from Mom. She said she caught Gus crying as he read my letter about the Jones family.
I can’t believe Mom’s letter today!
She said she’s not sure, but she thinks Gus is actually reading the Book of Mormon (in secret of course).
I hope so. It would help him so much.
She also said she hasn’t found any cigarettes in his pockets when she washes his clothes.
If he could just stop smoking! He still doesn’t know we know.
A letter from Mom. No doubt about it—Gus has stopped smoking. But the secret’s still on.
Dad wrote. He invited Gus to go to church with Mom and him, like he always does, and Gus actually went! Only he insisted on following Dad’s car on his Harley-Davidson.
During Sunday School he didn’t know where to go for the Young Adult class, and the teacher for the 14- and 15-year-olds (about 4 boys and 3 girls) didn’t show up. Two of the boys had seen Gus drive up on the Harley D. and asked him to show it to them. Before long most of the class was out in the parking lot admiring the Harley D. He even flipped “wheelies” for them. He’s such a show-off.
The Sunday School president had a conniption when he caught them.
The kids all wanted to sluff sacrament meeting and go motorcycle riding, but Gus calmed them down and got them reverently into the chapel for the meeting. It’s great!
Dad wrote again. Last Sunday Gus was ready for church before he and Mom even woke up.
When they arrived at church (this time Dad made him leave the Harley D. at home), the panic-stricken Sunday School president confronted Dad and Gus and begged them to substitute teach the 14- and 15-year-olds because the teacher didn’t show up again. Dad accepted and was surprised to hear Gus accept.
When they got in the class, Dad couldn’t get the kids to pay attention, so Gus stood up and there was total silence.
Then Gus told of a certain friend of his (he gave no name) who had started smoking when he was 14 and who was completely addicted by the time he was 24. He told how his friend couldn’t stop smoking, no matter how hard he tried, until he went to the Lord in prayer. And then his friend was given the strength to quit. Then Gus bore testimony of the Word of Wisdom.
Dad said it was the best impromptu lesson he’d ever heard. The kids loved it. He said he’s proud of Gus.
Now I just wish Gus would write. What’s going through his mind?
My eyes are full of tears as I write this evening. I received a letter from Gus. It’s the very first since I’ve been out.
He began by apologizing for never writing. He confessed he used to smoke. He said he’s never told anyone but the bishop and me. He asked me to never tell Mom and Dad because they’d be so hurt. If he only knew.
He told me he has fallen in love with the ward and never misses church. He and the bishop have had many talks, and Gus feels he has found a new friend.
He announced he has read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover. He bore testimony of its truthfulness and expressed his appreciation for the gospel of Jesus Christ.
He says he’s trying to get his friend Rod to talk to the missionaries.
And the most special news is that my big brother Gus will be ordained an elder this coming Sunday by my Dad.
The Lord answers prayers.
Gus has shaved his beard and cut his hair! Mom sent me a snapshot of him. He looks so funny! I’d forgotten what a baby face he has without whiskers.
Another letter from Gus! He says even though he’s 25 years old, he thinks about serving a mission once in a while.
He said he would probably go anywhere in the world but Japan, because, though he loves the people and culture, he is still not sold on Japanese motorcycles.
I almost can’t believe I’m writing this! Gus talked to our stake president! The missionary papers have been submitted. He’s actually waiting for his call. He says he’s going crazy waiting. I can relate. I’ve been there.
He’s really going on a mission. Gus, a missionary!
A telegram from home! Gus is going to Japan. That’s about the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.
They’re not giving him much time. He enters the MTC December 3rd. I’ll barely miss seeing him. I don’t get released until December 20th. That’ll make four years before we see each other. Four years! I’ll go crazy. A guy could get married in four years! Kids, college, we’ll be strangers.
But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A letter from Gus. He’ll sell his gas station and the great and irreplaceable Harley D. to pay for his mission. What a sacrifice! I’m so proud of Gus.
And get this! He says he’s going to try to save money so when he gets back he can buy a Kawasaki motorcycle. He calls it “cultural appreciation.”
Mom wrote. Gus’s farewell testimonial was great. She said at least 20 platinum blondes were in attendance.
His testimony brought tears to many eyes. What really humbles me is Mom says he told everybody he loved me and expressed thanks for my example.
Gus. His story is a miracle.

The missionaries did reap an important harvest in Ohio. En route west, they had visited Sidney Rigdon, a former Campbellite preacher and friend of Parley P. Pratt. At first skeptical, Rigdon studied the Book of Mormon, invited the missionaries to address his congregation, and soon asked for baptism. So did about 130 other persons in the area. Rigdon would not be satisfied until he met the Prophet. In December, he and a young hat maker, Edward Partridge, traveled together to the Smith home in Waterloo, New York, to meet Joseph Smith. The Prophet was impressed by Rigdon’s abilities and soon received a revelation stating that the Lord had prepared him “for a greater work” (D&C 35:3). The former preacher soon employed his oratorical skills in explaining the gospel to others. He soon began to serve as scribe to Joseph Smith in an inspired revision of the Bible and served as a counselor in the First Presidency.

Ryan tossed Matt the football and asked, “So, what should we do?”
Matt tossed the ball back and leaned against the bright blue wall.
“I don’t know,” he said.
The boys sat on Ryan’s top bunk, surrounded by his favorite books and magazines. Matt looked around. He picked up a black book with gold letters. “What’s this?”
“Haven’t you seen that before?” Ryan asked. “That’s my Book of Mormon.”
“Oh, yeah!” Matt nodded. “That’s kind of like your Bible, right?”
“Sort of,” Ryan said. “It’s scripture, like the Bible, but it talks about a different group of people. They lived in the Americas when Jesus was alive. And He visited them too.”
“Cool,” said Matt, flipping through it.
“I actually have an extra copy,” said Ryan. “Do you want to take it home?”
“Sure, why not?”
The boys walked downstairs to the bookshelf. Ryan found the copy and handed it to Matt.
“Thanks! I can check it out when I get home,” said Matt.
“Wanna go jump on the trampoline?” Ryan asked.
“Definitely!”
The boys raced outside and kicked off their shoes. They climbed on the trampoline and bounced until it was time for Matt to go home. On his way out, he picked up his new book and said goodbye.
Later that night, as Ryan was reading scriptures before bed, Mom came in to say good night.
“Guess what, Mom?” said Ryan. “I gave Matt a Book of Mormon today.”
“Really?” said Mom, sitting on the bed. “That’s great! Do you think he’ll read it?”
“I don’t know,” said Ryan. “He might just put it on his dresser and forget about it.”
Mom nodded. “That might happen, but you never know. Sometimes doing one little thing can have a ripple effect, like when you throw a rock in a lake. The ripples from one small rock can get surprisingly big.”
Ryan remembered throwing rocks into Silver Lake last month and watching the ripples grow bigger and bigger.
“Did you know that on Dad’s mission in Japan, every person he baptized told him that another Church member or missionary had talked to them about the Church before?” Mom said. “Even though they didn’t get baptized the first time they heard about the Church, they remembered the people who had talked to them, and it helped them choose baptism when they were ready.”
Ryan wondered if Matt remembered the times Ryan had invited him to church. Matt had come twice, but he was usually busy doing other things with his family on Sundays.
“I hope Matt at least opens it,” Ryan said. “Maybe not now, but someday.”
Mom stood up to leave. “Remember, you can’t always see the impact right away, but little actions make a big difference.”
The next day before school, Ryan found Matt. “So did you check out the book?”
Matt nodded. “I read a couple of pages,” he said. “But the funny thing is, my older brother Sam found it. And he read the whole first chapter.”
“Really?” said Ryan. “Cool!”
The bell rang to go inside. As Ryan walked to class, he smiled. I guess I just saw my first ripple.

Upon arriving in Kirtland, many heckled Brigham Young for going west with the camp. “Who has it benefited?” he remembered their asking. “If the Lord did command it to be done, what object had he in view in doing so?” But Brigham knew of the valuable experiences he had learned. “I told those brethren that I was well paid—paid with heavy interest—yea that my cup was filled to overflowing with the knowledge that I had received by traveling with the Prophet.” (Journal of Discourses 10:20.)

Each year we have a family vacation at Bear Lake. It is an exciting week of getting acquainted with grandchildren. For the past few years I have listened to their opportunities and challenges. They have let me know of the increased pressures of being in the world but not of the world. Movies, television, Internet, designer clothes, extreme fashions, Sabbath-breaking activities, et cetera, escalate the magnitude of their temptations. Moreover, peer pressures force difficult decisions about whether to follow the crowd or stand up for the principles taught by converted and committed parents and the Church.
This year I decided to be a little more aggressive in counseling my grandchildren. I wanted to provide them with a framework to resist temptations and thrive in today’s complex world. Our vacation at the lake extends for four days, so I decided to purchase a loose-leaf binder for each of them and include a topic for discussion for each day. Each insert included some scripture references and quotes that were intended to start fruitful discussions between the generations.
On the first day, there was not much interest in discussions, but the momentum seemed to increase each day. The experiment had enough success that I would like to play grandfather to each of you young people listening today to see if we can stimulate some thoughtful discussions in your homes with your parents.

Missionary service has ever called for courage. One who responded to this call was Randal Ellsworth. While serving in Guatemala as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Randal Ellsworth survived a devastating earthquake which struck Guatemala on February 4, 1976. A beam fell onto his back, paralyzing his legs and severely damaging his kidneys. He was the only American injured in the quake, which claimed the lives of some 30,000 persons.
After receiving emergency medical treatment, he was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While Randal was confined there, a newscaster conducted with him an interview that I witnessed on television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?”
The answer: “Not yet, but I will.”
“Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?”
Came the reply: “Others think not, but I will. With the president of my church praying for me, and through the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will walk, and I will return again to Guatemala. The Lord wants me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”
There followed a lengthy period of therapy, punctuated by heroic yet silent courage. Little by little, feeling began to return to the almost lifeless limbs. More therapy, more courage, more prayer.
At last, Randal Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he had been called—back to the people whom he loved. Behind he left a trail of skeptics and a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the example of courage.
On his return to Guatemala, Randal Ellsworth supported himself with the help of two canes. His walk was slow and deliberate. Then one day, as he stood before his mission president, Elder Ellsworth heard these almost unbelievable words spoken to him. “You have been the recipient of a miracle,” said the mission president. “Your faith has been rewarded. If you have the necessary confidence, if you have abiding faith, if you have supreme courage, place those two canes on my desk and walk.”
After a long pause, first one cane and then the other was placed on the desk, and a missionary walked. It was halting, it was painful—but he walked, never again to need the canes.
In the spring of 1986 I thought once more of the courage demonstrated by Randal Ellsworth. Ten years had passed since his ordeal. He was now a husband and a father. An engraved announcement arrived at my office. It read: “The President and Directors of Georgetown University announce commencement exercises of Georgetown University School of Medicine.” Randal Ellsworth received his Doctor of Medicine degree. More effort, more study, more faith, more sacrifice, more courage had been required. The price was paid, the victory won.

The story is told of a rancher who one Sunday found himself the only person in church. The minister came down from the pulpit and asked him whether or not he should go ahead with the service, and the man replied, “If I go out to feed my sheep, and only one comes, I still feed him!” The minister returned to his pulpit and preached a powerful sermon for over an hour, then came back down to the rancher and asked how he liked it. The man replied, “If I go out to feed my sheep, and only one comes, I sure don’t feed him the whole load!” A wise leader can profit from this counsel and provide the feed where it is needed.

I always knew I wanted to be a mother, but when I was growing up, it wasn’t always on my mind. When my fiancé and I were engaged, one day I was talking with one of my college professors—a woman I greatly admired—about my engagement. She said something that brought my life choices into sharp focus. “You are wasting your talent,” she told me as she shook her head. She went on to say that someone as smart as I was should not get married young. She assumed I would have children in my future and would be “throwing away” my education and chances of a stellar career on my future motherhood. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she thought I was making a terrible and naïve mistake.
It’s been several years since that conversation, and my husband and I have two little girls. Kate is three years old and is my little sweetheart. She moves through life at a leisurely pace, savoring all of the little details she notices. Annabel is one year old, with bright, blue eyes and a head of curls. She’s exuberant and determined. Though I didn’t change my mind because of what my professor said, our discussion has stayed with me. In one way my professor’s predictions were correct: I do not have a prestigious working career. But my professor got the most important point wrong, because I have wasted nothing.

In 2013, when I was about to finish high school, I was diagnosed with a ruptured appendix. It was so severe that I had to stop school for a while. I had surgery done and was recuperating. One night, as I was having dinner, I began to feel intense discomfort in my stomach. I was rushed to a nearby hospital that night and was referred to Randel General Hospital.
At the hospital, there was no bed for me and the discomfort and pain I felt at this point was excruciating. My parents were about to take me away from the hospital when a nurse brought a wheelchair and asked that I sit there. She told me that I would receive treatment soon. We had little or no choice than to do so, I was in such pain. Eventually I was able to get a bed. I spent many days in the hospital and finally recovered.
As I was leaving the hospital, I realized that written on the back of the wheelchair that I had used during my hospital stay was the name “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” I was overwhelmed by the joy I felt knowing that the wheelchair donation had saved my life. I had been a partaker of the donations of the Church, and I could not help but think about my Savior’s love.
One lesson I learned was that we might not entirely comprehend the extent to which our acts of service might go, but we can rest assured that somewhere, somehow, there is that one person who needs that help or service. If the Church had not made that donation, I do not think I would have been able to receive treatment in that hospital and my health challenge might have been prolonged.
I am indeed grateful for the opportunity to be served by my fellow brothers and sisters. May God bless the donors, LDS Charities and USAIDS.

At school one day, my teacher turned on a movie for us and left the classroom. As soon as my teacher left, I felt that something was wrong. As the movie went on, it began to show inappropriate images. I knew I had to leave the room. Then I remembered what I’d learned in seminary recently. We had talked about being “the light of the world” and how we can share that light with others (see Matthew 5:14–16). This was an opportunity to share my light!
I confidently stood up and told my classmates that we shouldn’t be watching this movie. One of my classmates said with a teasing voice, “There’s nothing wrong with this movie! We’re mature enough to watch stuff like this.” My other classmates agreed with him. I sat down, feeling sad and discouraged. I felt like I had no light—so how could I influence them to do good? I prayed and felt prompted to leave the room. And without hesitation, I got up and left by myself.
Miraculously, a minute later, a few of my classmates also left the room. As I watched them come out, I realized that my light wasn’t useless after all. I’m glad I can be a light to others. Sometimes it can be hard to combat evil, but we can always remember that we have a light within our hearts, and that light is our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Man Fai S., Philippines

The following is an excerpt from volume 3 of Saints, which will be released in early 2022. The setting for this account is the year 1943 in Brazil. Claudio and Mary dos Santos learned about and joined the Church in São Paulo. Missionaries were being sent home due to World War II, and local leaders were desperately needed. (Some of the procedures described here are different from those that Church leaders follow today. Consult the General Handbook for guidance.)
Not long after Claudio and Mary dos Santos were baptized in São Paulo, Brazil, mission president William Seegmiller asked Claudio if he would like to be an elder. Claudio was surprised, but he said, “Yes.” Having attended church for only a few months, he was not exactly sure what it meant to be an elder. He knew all the missionaries were called “Elder,” and they were remarkable young men who dedicated their lives to God. If that was what being an elder meant, that was what he wanted to be.1
The following Sunday morning, just before Sunday School, President Seegmiller ordained Claudio to the office of elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. When he finished, he said, “Now we are going to prepare the sacrament and set up for Sunday School.”
Claudio was a little bewildered. Everything was happening so quickly, and he did not fully know what he was doing. But he followed the president’s instructions and performed his first priesthood responsibility.
That evening, during the branch’s sacrament meeting, President Seegmiller recruited Claudio’s help again, this time to interpret for him as he spoke to the Saints in English. Claudio was still learning English and had never interpreted before, but he agreed to try.2
At the start of the meeting, President Seegmiller asked the Saints to sustain Claudio’s ordination. To Claudio’s surprise, he understood President Seegmiller clearly, and he easily conveyed the words in Portuguese.
President Seegmiller then told the congregation about a letter he had written to the First Presidency one year earlier. It had expressed his fear that the Church in Brazil did not have enough worthy Portuguese-speaking men who could be ordained to the priesthood and support the branches. He now felt ashamed for having written the letter.
“Today Brother Claudio was ordained an elder,” he said. “Will you sustain him as the first Brazilian branch president of São Paulo?”
Claudio was stunned as he interpreted the words. He thought of his inexperience. “What knowledge do I have?” he wondered. He knew the story of Joseph Smith, but he had never read the Book of Mormon. The only thing he had to offer was enthusiasm for the restored gospel. Maybe that was all the Lord needed from him.
He looked out on the congregation and saw them raise their hands in support of his call. He felt honored. Maybe he didn’t know much, but he was willing to work.3
Claudio’s responsibilities began immediately. He took charge of Sunday meetings and blessed the sacrament. A missionary had taught Claudio to read music, and he soon developed a repertoire of around twenty hymns on the organ so he could accompany the São Paulo Saints. At first, he had only one counselor to assist him, but the two men did their best to juggle work and family responsibilities as they ministered to Saints scattered throughout the enormous city.
Despite his inexperience, Claudio trusted that God had a purpose for calling him to lead the branch. “If it is the true Church, if there is a God in charge, He had to select someone,” he told himself. “He had to choose someone with enthusiasm that could receive authority and do the work.”4

My mom was sick. If she was sick, she couldn’t lead the choir. I fasted for her to help her feel better. Fasting means not eating food during the day. This was the first day I ever fasted in my life. I didn’t know what it would feel like. I was hungry. It was really hard to fast, but I didn’t ask for food. I prayed for my mom, too. I wanted her to get better because I love her. After I fasted, my mom felt better. She was able to lead the choir. I think Heavenly Father hears my prayers, even when I whisper.

From the pages of our missionary journal comes an event repeated often throughout the missions of the Church. John and Shirley Withers were successful advertising executives. They were on the fast track, indulging themselves in worldly pleasures. When contacted by our missionaries, they were impressed by their clean, sparkling countenances so unlike other young men they had known.
As the Spirit touched their hearts, the conversion miracle began. Their previous behavior became incompatible with gospel principles. A new set of priorities and values replaced worldly interests. Alcohol and tobacco habits became expendable, although with great effort. Modesty became the dress standard. Prayer, scripture study, and Relief Society and priesthood service became the focus. They were baptized and received the Holy Ghost.
As Sister Clarke and I, with some of our missionaries, assembled in the Salt Lake Temple, John and Shirley Withers, with their children, were sealed together as an eternal family. Their countenances reflected the resplendent beauty of the emancipation of the soul. We witnessed a spiritual rebirth as if from the grave.

That interest and excitement about missionary work has spread. Victor, 12, is, all the brothers admit, the best baseball player, and he loves the game. His parents started getting calls from the local baseball coaches asking why Victor had not signed up to play baseball during the summer. “When I asked Victor,” says Rick, “he said he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Chris during the summer before he went on his mission. I just said, ‘Wow, Victor, you’d do that for your brother?’” With so many boys in the family, the competition was sometimes less than brotherly. Chris and Matt, being close in age, suffered from it for a while. Anything Chris did, Matt tried to do better. It caused contention. Chris says, “Mom knew best. She had a talk with me. She said that God gave us all talents, and we can’t be better than someone else at everything. Then I realized that Matt has something in him that makes him better at some things. He has his talents, and I have mine. We need to share them and gain from each other and really enjoy watching each other do whatever. It might be soccer, band, sports, being outdoors, or giving service.” When Chris watched Matt compete at state in the pole vault, the sport he had taught his younger brother, the disappointment at not being there himself lessened. He felt calm. “I was glad one of us made it and that it could be my brother.” Editor’s Note: Since this article was written, Chris received his mission call and is serving in the Lithuania Vilnius Mission.

That’s exactly how it used to be with me. If I wanted to go out, they would put me through the third degree before I could do anything. I would always argue and get real upset at them, and it would always end up in a shouting match. Then I decided to try something. Before I made any definite plans, I would ask them if they objected to whatever it was I wanted to do. I’d tell them who I would be with and where I would be.
Then if I changed plans and went somewhere else, I’d call. Pretty soon they didn’t seem so unreasonable. They trust me and my choice of friends and places to go now. People are right; parents do just want what’s best for you!