Gospel Story Finder

Many in the world simply do not have the capacity to apply with wisdom the knowledge they have about the enslaving philosophies of Satan. In dealing with his influences, they react just like a frog. I am told that a frog dropped suddenly into a pan of hot water will immediately jump out, but that if he is put in a pan of cold water and placed on a stove, he will stay in it until he boils to death. I think in these matters many are getting pretty warm!

As these young people are converted to the gospel, they help one another remain strong. Last summer, Klein Kinga, 19, and another young member of the Church found employment away from home. “There weren’t any other Church members around—just the two of us and the world,” she says. “We had a lot of adversity. When we came home in the evenings, we always prayed together, read together from the Book of Mormon, and waited for the letters we received from our Church friends here in Dunaújváros. These things helped us endure that difficult time.”

When Elder B. Corey Cuvelier announced he was leaving his job to become a mission president for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, his colleagues asked, “Are you crazy?”
Elder Cuvelier said his colleagues struggled to understand why he would step away from his flourishing career for three years. But their questions were opportunities, he said, “to share why we do what we do and why we believe what we believe and in whom we believe. That’s Jesus Christ.”

Later Hernando hurried along Twentieth Street. He pushed the door of an office building open and took the steps two at a time. In Dr. Daily’s office his mother was singing at her work. When she saw Hernando, she smiled and shut off the vacuum cleaner. “All done?” she asked.
Nodding, he handed her his tip money. “I’ll go home for my books and lunch, then be off to school.”
She counted the change that he had given her. “Please stop at Myerling’s and get milk,” she said as she pressed the money into his hand. “Make sure it’s fresh, and don’t forget to close the refrigerator tightly. Be good, and have a nice day.”
He kissed her, then went back outside and down the street.
At the store, Hernando checked the date on the milk before taking it to the counter. As he waited to pay for it, his hand brushed a basket of pears. His mouth suddenly watered. He thought of how long it had been since he’d had one. He looked at Mr. Myerling, who was busy bagging groceries and talking to an early customer. Behind the meat counter, Mrs. Myerling was grinding meat with her back turned. How easy it would be to slip a pear into my pocket! he thought. How good it would taste … Then his mother’s words came to his mind: “Be good.” Swallowing hard, he turned his back on the basket of pears.
When the other customer finally left, Mr. Myerling turned to Hernando.
“Morning, Hernie,” he said. “I didn’t know if you’d stop by this morning, but I’ve been hoping you would.”
“You have?”
“I have some things for your mother,” Mr. Myerling explained. He put the milk into a sack behind the counter. “This bag of sugar split, but I taped it shut. And the labels on these cans are coming off from being on the shelf for a while, but I’m sure the food inside is still good. As for the fruit, it has some bruises, but it’s still good for fruit salad or for baking. Just be sure to put it into the refrigerator for your mother.”
Hernando’s face brightened as he took the sack of groceries. “Thanks, Mr. Myerling!”
“I’m glad you can use it.”
As Hernando entered the apartment building and climbed the stairs, his heart was singing. We might not have much, Hernando prayed silently, but what You give is always enough. Thank you, Father, for always providing.

“Understanding why I give priesthood service helped me become a better missionary while acting as deacons quorum president. As new people joined my quorum, I got to teach them how a deacon should act and help them with their duties. The more I serve, the greater my understanding and desire to serve others become.”
Lynden A., 14, England (on left, his brother Mikaeel, 11)

In February 1958, at age 17, I entered the United States Navy. I was assigned to an aircraft carrier, where I met Raymond Covington from Provo, Utah.
I thought Raymond was a bit strange—no smoking, no drinking, no cursing, no nothing. I asked him what he did for enjoyment. He said he did a lot of things, but mostly what he enjoyed was either starting or ending his day with one or two big milk shakes. So Raymond was given the nickname “Milkshake.”
At night, Raymond would tell me about his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was really quite interested, until he told me that if I joined his church, I could not hold the priesthood. That did not go over well with me. Seeing my agitation, Raymond expressed his feeling that perhaps one day the priesthood would be available to me.
As time went by I began to favor Raymond above all my friends because of the way he lived. After a while I found I had ceased to live the kind of life I had been living, and I wanted to do the right thing. He made me realize I didn’t have to curse or drink alcohol. I could make the choice to live a righteous life.
Raymond was discharged in June 1961, and I was discharged later that year. I often wondered what had happened to my old friend.

The year 2024 is something of a milestone year for me. It marks 75 years since I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Zwickau, Germany.
When I think about my personal journey of discipleship, my mind often goes back to an old villa in Zwickau, where I have cherished memories of attending sacrament meetings of the Church of Jesus Christ as a child. It is there where the seedling of my testimony received its earliest nourishing.
This chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever operating the bellows to make the organ work. I sometimes had the great privilege of assisting in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. From the bellows operator seat, I had a great view of some stunning stained-glass windows, one depicting the Savior Jesus Christ and another portraying Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove.
I can still remember the sacred feelings I had as I looked at those sunlit windows while listening to the testimonies of the Saints and singing the hymns of Zion.
In that holy place, the Spirit of God bore witness to my mind and heart that it was true: Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. This is His Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices.
Earlier this year, while on assignment in Europe, I had the opportunity to return to Zwickau. Sadly, that beloved old chapel isn’t there anymore. It was torn down many years ago to make room for a large apartment building.
I admit that it’s sad to know that this beloved building from my childhood is now just a memory. It was a sacred building to me. But it was just a building.
By contrast, the spiritual witness I gained from the Holy Ghost those many years ago has not passed away. In fact, it has grown stronger. The things I learned in my youth about the fundamental principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ have been my firm foundation throughout my life. The covenant connection I forged with my Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son has stayed with me—long after the Zwickau chapel was dismantled and the stained-glass windows were lost.
My dear brothers and sisters, my dear friends, there’s a part of me that misses the old Zwickau chapel and its stained-glass windows. But over the past 75 years, Jesus Christ has led me on a journey through life that is more thrilling than I could ever have imagined. He has comforted me in my afflictions, helped me to recognize my weaknesses, healed my spiritual wounds, and nourished me in my growing faith.

On the operating table under a bright light and surrounded by a jungle of glittering equipment is a sixty-year-old man who is being covered with special green drapes that leave a long, rectangular opening squarely over the middle of his chest and another opening over his left leg.
Dr. Russell M. Nelson joins seven other members of the surgical team in the room: the senior resident in surgery; a surgical nurse; an anesthesiologist; a heart-lung machine specialist; a computer specialist; and two other nurses, one of whom is in charge of the operating room. I stand slightly apart from them, an observer, scrubbed and wearing sanitized clothing.
Having taken their positions, they begin their work with an alacrity that is somewhat chilling to a newcomer. The senior resident, in one deft stroke, makes a foot-long incision the length of the sternum, following quickly with a cauterizing tool that seals off the numerous small blood vessels that have begun to bleed into the wound.
Meanwhile, Dr. Nelson is making an incision in the left leg to locate a vein that will be removed. This is to be a quadruple coronary arterial bypass operation—in other words, surgery to bypass obstructions in four arteries that feed the patient’s heart muscle. The vein being taken from the thigh will be used for the bypass grafts. There is a snipping of scissors and more cauterizing. I make an unscheduled exit to the hallway for a breath of fresh air and a reassessment of my determination to continue with this assignment.
Then comes the whirring sound of an electric saw. Re-entering the room, I am stationed at the head of the operating table, where in full view before me I see that the patient’s sternum has been sawed through longitudinally and an ingenious retractor has been placed in the cleft. Several cranks on a short lever spread the retractor apart—and there, between the patient’s spread ribs, is his beating heart.
Soft music is playing quietly over the intercom. The surgeon’s eyes reveal no amazement, no sense of drama—only deliberate concentration. My weak-in-the-knees feeling soon leaves as the procedure takes on a magnetic fascination.
After more than an hour of painstaking labor, four grafts have been connected to the aorta. Suddenly the blood pressure drops, much to everyone’s surprise. Making true diagnosis immediately, Dr. Nelson points to a clamp that should have been left on one of the many tubes at this critical point in the procedure. It is quickly replaced—a small mistake, but one that could have been costly.
“I still love you,” he says to the team member responsible for the oversight. There is a nod of appreciation. Then Dr. Nelson adds with a wry tone, “Sometimes I love you more than other times …”
And there are smiling eyes all around. He is clearly the one in control of this operation. He keeps the atmosphere light enough so that all the team members remain relaxed. But there is also an unspoken demand for constant concentration.
Dr. Nelson later comments: “It’s a matter of extreme self-discipline. A life is totally dependent on the whole surgical team. So you’ve got to stay just as calm and relaxed and sharp as you ever were.”
Four hours have now elapsed, and things are just about wrapped up. The heart-lung machine has been disengaged and the heart gently shocked into activity with electrodes; the grafts, now fairly bulging with a new blood supply for the heart muscle, have been checked for leaks. The heart is doing well on its own, and the patient is stable. Thoughts now turn to the patient’s worried family, and one of the nurses reaches for a telephone: “We’re off the pump, we’ve done four grafts, and Dr. Nelson will be down in about 45 minutes.”

The Lord’s hand is apparent in many other callings. As leaders are needed, they are prepared, and then they are called. José Acedo was living in Lima, Perú, as a young adult. “I wanted to get married and felt the time was right,” he says. “I took time off work to go to the temple and then went out to the countryside to ponder.” Days passed, and toward the end of his vacation, he felt directed to La Paz. He made the long trip and arrived in time to attend a district conference on a Sunday. As he sat in the chapel, his attention was drawn to a certain young woman sitting in the choir. After the meeting, he met Rosaura Sainz, and the two began talking. By the end of three hours, they had begun to consider a serious relationship. Four months later, in October, they became engaged. At Christmas, they were married. “We are so grateful to the Lord for bringing us together,” José says.

When the Acedos moved to La Paz, José was called as bishop of the Norte Ward, La Paz Bolivia Constitución Stake. As bishop, he faces the ongoing challenge of helping ward members learn what it means to sustain others in callings and to give of themselves in service. “Love is the key that opens hearts,” he says. He began visiting families to help them catch the vision of Church service. “When I visit a family, I love them and teach them to love others. I pray with them. I ask for greater harmony to bless their homes. As love increases in the homes, it also increases in our ward.”

With love as a foundation, Bishop Acedo extends callings to ward members. “We work with people. We talk of accepting callings and learning to fill the callings. And we talk about what it means to support others in leadership positions,” he explains. With that basis, ward members grow and develop leadership skills.

Now Sherry brings her brother Jeff Shewchuk to church with her. Quinton Ulrich, 14, says, “Jeff is really close to my age, so usually we try to get together and do things we both like.”
Sherry’s brother Jeff has decided to take the missionary discussions—and the long ride to Church, too. The Dauphin youth are hoping to have a new family member soon.

Friends smile admiringly and refer to Palle and Esther as “rare birds” themselves. Their enjoyment of nature has found a very humanitarian expression. For twenty years, they have taken a group of handicapped people, most of them in wheelchairs, into the woods to camp every summer.

“The twenty-five people we take with us range in age from thirty to eighty,” says Palle. “We stay together in a wonderful old house deep in the woods. Then we spend the days wandering through the woods together, stopping for picnics and enjoying the beauty.” He and Esther are also founding members of the multiple sclerosis society for the county, and they volunteer on the board of health.

I was serving as a missionary in France when the world collapsed and COVID-19 hurled the whole country into a strict lockdown. I have struggled with depression throughout my life, so I worried that the confining circumstances would cause me to slip into a depressive episode. But the first week of quarantine—the week leading up to the historical April 2020 general conference—was one of the most spiritual weeks of my life.
Looking back, the experiences I had that week felt like the Lord was fortifying me for a storm.
Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave a talk that conference about the repairs that would be made to the Salt Lake Temple’s foundations. He likened the remodeling to our own lives and asked us to consider this question:
“What are the foundational elements of my spiritual and emotional character that will allow me and my family to remain steadfast and immovable, even to withstand the earthshaking and tumultuous seismic events that will surely take place in our lives?”
As I listened to his talk, the Spirit impressed on me that, like the temple, I was going to be broken down in certain ways during the next period of my life. But I also felt that if I turned to the Lord during these challenges, He would help me strengthen my foundation of faith.
As expected, I soon grew depressed, and it wasn’t long before I felt trapped in an endless cycle of suicidal ideation. I felt torn down mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
After two months of quarantine, things got a little better. Thanks to changes in my circumstances, like antidepressant medication and the end of lockdown, I started to feel better mentally. But soon after, I started feeling sick and noticed three large lumps at the base of my throat.
At first I ignored the bumps, but when my symptoms worsened, it became clear that I could no longer stay in the mission field. I returned home, where I was promptly diagnosed with blood cancer—Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Because my antidepressants had a bit of an emotional numbing effect, I felt pretty apathetic as I started six months of chemotherapy.
But even so, I began to break down physically.
A year after my chemotherapy treatment ended, I was starting to feel better physically. I was back at college and making plans. But the searing spiritual pain and numbness I had felt on my mission and during chemotherapy had now turned into a general feeling of indifference about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
I was struggling with my feelings about what I had gone through and felt as if They had abandoned me when I was at my lowest.
But Heavenly Father knew what paths I needed to take so I could heal.
I felt like I was grappling with the rubble and remains of my once-strong faith and my once-vibrant personality. I felt so disconnected from myself. My heart was softening toward the Lord’s attempts to reach out to me, but spiritually I felt guilty, anxious, and unworthy because of my indifference toward the gospel.
After pondering my spiritual health for a few months, I was prompted to make small spiritual changes in my life. I had ignored the pain for a while, but I wanted to address the hurt I felt in my soul because of the challenges I had experienced.
Soon I could see Heavenly Father’s hand in my life. Without knowing how spiritually numb I was feeling, friends and loved ones brought up the topic of healing. One of them even shared a devotional address by Elaine S. Marshall.
Reluctantly, I read it.
I don’t think it was a coincidence that the treatment for my cancer required six months of chemotherapy. The effects of chemo are drastic, dramatic, and demanding. Interestingly, learning to let my body heal physically taught me a key principle of spiritual healing—how to draw upon Jesus Christ’s grace and allow myself time and space to heal my relationship with Him and Heavenly Father.
The first step I took toward spiritual healing was finding a desire to connect with God. Alma taught me how to start when he said, “Exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words” (Alma 32:27).
I testify from personal experience that this teaching is true.
Similar to Alma’s experience, my desire to feel the Spirit and the joy of the gospel again set off a whole trajectory shift that took me through the process of healing. Since then, the Savior has helped me to reconcile my past feelings as I’ve learned to let go of my resentments toward God, Him, and my own weaknesses.
Because of Him, parts of myself that I thought I had lost in the mists of my trials—like my personality, my desires, and my love for the gospel—have been returned to me and have made me feel whole, renewed, and restored.
Pain and challenges changed me, but as I found healing through Jesus Christ, I truly rebuilt my foundation of faith on Him. As time passes and I heal, I see that because of Jesus Christ, I can learn to have joy despite my struggles. I now understand that the most important part of going through a trial isn’t what breaks us down or the pain we feel—it’s what follows as we experience healing and reconstruction through the Savior’s grace.

A few years ago I had an experience with deceptive appearances where the results could have been tragic. My wife’s cousin and family were visiting us from Utah. It was a calm summer day on the Oregon coast, and we were fishing in the ocean. It was pleasant, and we were having a good time catching salmon, when for some reason I turned around to see a huge eight-foot wave bearing down upon us. I only had time to shout a warning before the wave hit us broadside. Somehow the boat stayed upright, but Gary, our cousin, was thrown overboard. We were all wearing life jackets and with some difficulty maneuvered the boat, half filled with water, to where he was floating and pulled him aboard.
We had been hit by what is called a sneaker wave. It doesn’t happen often, and there is no way to predict an occurrence. Later we found that up and down the Oregon-Washington coast, five people had drowned that day in three separate boating accidents. All were caused by the same sneaker wave, which for no apparent reason had welled up off the ocean surface. At the time we went out over the bar, the ocean was flat and calm and gave no sign of any danger. But the ocean turned out to be very deceptive and not at all what it appeared to be.
I am grateful that we had on our life jackets that summer day on the ocean. I am thankful we were able to avoid the tragedy that came to others from that sneaker wave. It is my prayer that we will continue to wear our life jackets of obedience in order to avoid the tragedy that will surely come if we are deceived and follow the enticings of the adversary.

Several years ago I was riding on a train from Edinburgh, Scotland, to Glasgow with a noted British lawyer. We had engaged him to present our claim of discrimination by the city council of Glasgow. We were seeking a building permit, which had been repeatedly denied by the city council at the instigation of an opposing ministerial group as not needed inasmuch as there was an abundance of vacant or unused church buildings. We had been granted a hearing before the secretary of state for Scotland, a member of the prime minister’s cabinet.
As the early morning train sped toward Glasgow, I asked the distinguished counsel if he had any additional questions about our church. I was concerned about his limited understanding of our expansion, of why we were building modern church buildings and why we had hundreds of missionaries in Great Britain. He assured me that he was quite comfortable in representing us and presenting our case that to him appeared to have merit.
As we discussed other aspects of our growing presence in Great Britain, he said, “I hear, but it couldn’t be true, that you baptize for dead people.”
I said, “Yes, it is true—not only true that we do it today, but the eternal principle of vicarious service of baptism for the dead was taught during our Savior’s earthly ministry.”
I explained that all of God’s worthy children of all ages can become heirs of salvation in His kingdom. I briefly reminded the lawyer of Jesus teaching Nicodemus that “except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
“Nicodemus [said] unto him, How can a man be born [again] when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?
“Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:3–5).
I also made reference to the early Apostles’ teachings regarding Christ’s resurrection and the resurrection of all, including Paul’s great statement: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29).
The engaged lawyer seemed comfortable. He presented our case effectively. We won our building permit. The chapel now stands in Glasgow, Scotland.

Amy made the choices every parent desires for a son or daughter. She was sealed in the temple after receiving a strong spiritual impression to marry her husband.
Prior to their wedding, her husband-to-be made a courageous choice as well, admitting to her that he had used pornography.
A short year later, Amy realized that his struggle with pornography was not in the past. Three years into their marriage—when they had an eight-month-old baby—Amy suffered the unimaginable pain of her husband’s having an affair and being subsequently excommunicated from the Church.
How did Amy survive the heartbreak? How do the many other women and men with similar circumstances survive their pain?
When Amy faced her husband’s excommunication, she knew that the Savior could provide the answer to the crushing weight she felt. However, she says, she wasn’t sure how “to bridge that gulf between where I was and the healing power of Jesus Christ.” How, she wondered, could she possibly find—or build—a bridge?
At first she tried to lessen her pain by vigilantly watching her husband and pleading with the Lord to heal him. But one day a spiritual prompting changed everything: Amy realized that controlling someone else’s behavior isn’t part of Heavenly Father’s plan and wasn’t helping her come closer to the Savior. So, she says, the biggest thing she had to do was begin her own journey of healing—and turn her husband’s journey over to him. She came to understand, through inspiration from the Spirit, that she needed to stop living her life as a reaction to pornography and trust in the enabling power of Jesus Christ and His Atonement to strengthen and bless her.
As she looks back, Amy says that at no point did any of her searching or investigating of her husband produce a feeling of peace. Life “was continual turmoil,” she says. “And the only peace I found was when I recognized that Heavenly Father had a plan” for her husband and for her. When she used her own agency to turn to God and seek His help, “the help came” and the gulf between her pain and the Savior’s help didn’t feel quite so wide or the pain so weighty.
Amy and her husband are still married—although he continues to relapse. Amy, however, testifies that peace comes when she watches general conference thinking, “How can I heal my pain?” not, “I hope my husband hears this.” She knows that Jesus Christ’s healing power and her faith in the infinite nature of the Atonement provide hope—not only for her husband but also for her.

I really enjoyed the September 2007 New Era. I especially enjoyed the article “If a Bug Flies into Your Mouth.” I had troubles with bad music and language before I became a deacon. One thing that my mom taught me is that if you can’t imagine one of the prophets doing it, then neither should you. I think you should have more articles like this in your magazine because I’ve noticed that some people have had struggles with language, music, and bad computer sites. I hope we can get them to spit the bug out!
Jakob M., Utah

A few years ago, I was privileged to be assigned to the Asia Area Presidency, with the area office being in Hong Kong. Our four youngest children accompanied Sister Brough and me to that fascinating city, where we lived for three very interesting years. Our children were accustomed to the wide-open spaces of western America, and Hong Kong required each child to make some very large personal and emotional adjustments. Many nights we sat around our dining room table in our modest 13th-floor apartment, trying to help them with school and cultural challenges.
One night, after anxiously working for several hours to complete school assignments, our youngest child, Kami (then eight years old), asked, “Daddy, how come we ‘got choosed’ to come to Hong Kong?” My first reaction was to be somewhat flippant and say, “Just lucky, I guess.” However, I could tell from the very sincere look on this little girl’s face that she wanted a grown-up answer to her question. At that moment, as I surveyed the challenges placed on our little family because of my priesthood calling, I needed to review the answer again for myself.
As Kami and I read this scripture together, I could see that she very much wanted to understand. I wanted her to know that there can be some “afflictions” associated with our callings in the Church. We talked about being away from our home and family members. I understood it was difficult for her to adjust to these new surroundings.
It was obvious, however, that I was still short of my objective when she asked, “But, Daddy, why did we ‘get choosed’ and not someone else?” Now that is a much more difficult question. Why do these callings and responsibilities come to some and not to others? I was reminded of the charge President Hinckley gave me upon my ordination as a Seventy. He said: “Brother Brough, now a lot of people are going to say a lot of nice things about you. Don’t believe them!”
It is very dangerous for any of us to think we have earned the right to a Church calling. However, every member must come to know the sacred nature of his or her own service in the Church. I remember my Primary teacher, Sister Mildred Jacobson, who I believe was divinely called to her position of responsibility. Two bishops, Bishop Lynn McKinnon and Bishop Ross Jackson, who served during my youth, played significant roles in the lives of many. I believe they were called of God in the same process of revelation as were Paul and Timothy.
We must each prepare ourselves for every good work that might come to us and then accept the principle that revelation, not aspiration, is the basis for our respective callings. We can learn much from the following New Testament story:
“Then came to him the mother of Zebedee’s children with her sons, worshipping him, and desiring a certain thing of him.
“… She saith unto him, Grant that these my two sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other on the left, in thy kingdom” (Matt. 20:20–21).
I explained to Kami that Zebedee’s children were the Apostles James and John, who would later sit with Peter, one on his right hand and the other on his left. Then we read together how Jesus answered the devoted mother: “To sit on my right hand, and on my left, is not mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom it is prepared of my Father” (Matt. 20:23).
The Apostles also were taught concerning their important calling when Jesus reminded them, “Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you” (John 15:16).
I explained to Kami that we definitely had been chosen because we would not seek such a challenging assignment. This was reinforced just a few days later when Sister Brough and I were assigned to travel to India for a missionary conference. The flight from Hong Kong to New Delhi, India, was a late-night flight that arrived in New Delhi at about two o’clock in the morning. Even at that late hour, there were hundreds of taxi drivers who wanted to provide our transportation. After selecting a driver, we began our journey of about 40 kilometers to the hotel. Even though it was late, the roads were crowded with animals, people, and other vehicles. As we were going through an intersection, the taxi’s motor quit. I watched with increasing anxiety as the driver fruitlessly attempted to start the motor. Finally, in obvious frustration, the driver turned to me and in his very best English said, “Push taxi!” It was three o’clock in the morning, and my wife and I were very tired. I got out of the taxi and tried to push it across the intersection but was not able to do so. The driver then said to my wife, “Push taxi.” Lanette got out of the car and began to help me push the taxi through the intersection. As we were struggling to get the taxi through the traffic, I said to my wife, “There were a few things we didn’t understand when we were given this assignment.”
I never completely satisfied little Kami’s question that night. Over the years, we have recalled that challenging evening when a small child was a bit overwhelmed with life. We have explored other scriptures and many other stories since that time. We have received the wonderful promise to those the Savior had chosen “that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it [to] you” (John 15:16).
That promise—of answer to our prayers—is directed even to a small child. This was reaffirmed recently when I heard Kami, now 15 years old, respond to a question directed to her by an adult friend: “How come you were so lucky to live in Hong Kong when you were a child?” She looked directly at me as she gave her answer to our friend: “It wasn’t luck; we ‘were chosen.’”

Most Samoan families have an umu, or a Samoan oven, on Sunday.
First you make sure you have 40 to 60 medium-sized stones and a pile of firewood. Make a fire with the wood and put all the stones in it to get them very hot. They are heated for about one hour.
Now you push the heated stones out of the fire, brush them, and flatten them out to the size you want your oven to be. You then place taro, ta’amu, breadfruit, yams, or green bananas on one side of the hot stones. Put a pig on the other side of the hot stones. Cover with hot stones. Banana leaves are placed on top of the stones, and fish or chicken is put on the leaves and then covered again with ta’amu, banana, and breadfruit leaves. Then burlap bags are placed on top to keep the heat in. This is left for about an hour and a half to cook. When the time is up, you have some very good food to eat from your Samoan umu.
Taufou Iafeta, Age 11Elise Fou, Upolu, Western Samoa

One night shortly after his baptism, Don was tending the ship’s engines and reading the Book of Mormon in his spare time. One of the crew came up behind him and asked what he was reading.

“It’s the Book of Mormon,” Don replied.
“Are you Mormon?”
“Yes, I am.”
Burt ground out his cigarette and said, “So am I.” He had been brought up in the Church but had stopped participating when he joined the military. Don convinced him to join the others at sacrament meeting the next Sunday. Burt began the process of repenting and getting his life back in order.

Days start early in the Chung Tien household. The father, Willie Chung Tien, is the baker for the village of Mataura, located on the island of Tubuai in French Polynesia. That means most mornings he starts work at 4:00 a.m. It’s the only way bread will be ready in time for breakfast, and many people depend on Brother Chung Tien for their daily bread.
Eleven-year-old Lee Yen Chung Tien has learned a lot from her father’s example. “I don’t get up as early as he does,” she says. “But I try to work hard like he does, and to serve other people like he does.” She knows that many mornings her father takes fresh, hot bread to the missionaries serving on Tubuai. She knows that he gives many hours in service to the Church in his calling as first counselor in the Mataura Branch presidency. She also knows that many people on the island admire his friendly smile and his positive attitude. “He is a great example to our family,” Lee Yen says. “His happiness helps us all to be happy too.”