Gospel Story Finder

Hi! We’re Kynzley and Jayme. We did a service project to help a family in our ward. We raised a lamb and a pig and then sold them at our county fair.
Our friends’ dad was really sick. He went to see the doctor many times. Their family couldn’t go to church for a long time. We missed our friends in Primary. We wanted to help!
We decided to give the family the money we made when we sold our animals at the county fair. The money could help them pay medical bills.
We worked for nine months on our project. We prayed and fasted that we would pick good animals to raise. As we raised our lamb and pig, we spent a lot of time planning for the county fair. We made shirts, walked in parades, asked for donations, and helped organize the sale.
On the day of the fair, our animals were healthy and strong. We did a great job showing them at the livestock show. We were happy we could give the money we made to the family. We ended our project with a fast for them.
Working on this project helped us come closer to Heavenly Father. We learned to trust Him more. We did our best and let Him help us as we listened to the Holy Ghost. We struggled when our animals did not do what we wanted. But we remembered why we were raising them. We did our best to earn as much money as we could. We relied on the Lord and just worked hard.
We know that Heavenly Father cares about all of us and wants to help us. We are glad that we could help others too!
Illustration by Kiersten Eagan

A good friend of mine who was a Church member tried for years to teach me the gospel of eternal families. It wasn’t until I attended the São Paulo Temple open house in October 1978 and entered a sealing room that the doctrine of eternal families came into my heart, and for days I prayed to know if this was the true Church.
I was not religious, but I had been raised by parents who were, and I had seen what was good in other religions. At that point in my life, I thought all religions were acceptable to God.
After my visit to the temple open house, I sought an answer through prayer, having faith and a sure confidence that God would answer me, which was His Church on earth.
After a great spiritual struggle, I finally received a clear answer. I was invited to be baptized. My baptism happened on October 31, 1978, the night before a session of the São Paulo Temple dedication.
I realized that the Lord knew and cared about me as He answered my prayers.
The next morning my wife and I went to São Paulo to attend a dedicatory session of the temple.
We were there, but I did not really know how to appreciate that wonderful opportunity yet. The following day we attended an area conference.
We had begun our journey in the Church, and we found good friends who welcomed us during this life transition.
The new member classes we attended in our Sunday meetings each week were wonderful. They filled us with knowledge and made us wish for the week to pass quickly so on Sunday we could have more of that spiritual nourishment.
My wife and I eagerly looked forward to entering the temple to have our family sealed for eternity. That happened one year and seven days after my baptism, which was a wonderful moment. I felt as if the eternities had been divided at the altar between what came before and what came after the sealing.

Not long after she was released, she met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She had seen them around, so they were familiar to her, but for some reason on this day, Te Awhina felt compelled to call them over.
“I had a question,” she recalls. “You might think this is a silly question, but when you grow up with no concept of God . . . I just didn’t know.” She said to the missionaries, “If you can answer me one question, I’ll listen to [your message].”
Then she asked: “Is God a man or a woman?”
One of the missionaries replied, “God is our loving Heavenly Father.”
This answer brought an unexpected sense of clarity and peace to Te Awhina. She wanted to learn more. “Okay,” she said to the missionaries. “I’ll listen to you.”
It has now been 10 years since Te Awhina was baptised a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She became a missionary herself, very soon after her baptism, when she served in the Australia Brisbane Mission. Then, in 2020, she married Josh, “the man of my dreams.” The couple looks forward to being sealed to each other—for time and all eternity—as soon as the New Zealand Hamilton Temple is reopened.
Reflecting on how her incredible journey began with a simple question, Te Awhina notes that the Prophet Joseph Smith also received his greatest revelation because he had the courage to ask of God, and like Joseph Smith, Te Awhina learned that sometimes the answer does not come easily.
When the missionaries first explained the Word of Wisdom to her, Te Awhina’s first reaction was, “No thanks.” But even as she struggled with the idea of giving up harmful substances, she surprised herself by how quickly she obeyed. Basically, “By end of that [missionary] lesson, I had given up coffee,” she laughs.
Not everything fell into place as effortlessly, but Te Awhina persevered and has been rewarded with healing and forgiveness through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Over the years, it has brought her strength and hope to know that young Joseph Smith also wrestled with a terrible darkness, just before he experienced the miraculous First Vision, which would usher in a new dispensation of the gospel on earth.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland’s words have helped Te Awhina understand this pattern:
“It is the plain and very sobering truth that before great moments, certainly before great spiritual moments, there can come adversity, opposition, and darkness. Life has some of those moments for us, and occasionally they come just as we are approaching an important decision or a significant step in our lives.”1
“As I celebrate my 10-year anniversary of coming into the fold, I have found healing that can only come as we look to Christ and repent,” Te Awhina says. “I am grateful for the missionaries, for the truths that they taught me—and for what the gospel has done in my life.”

Sarah Ann Murdock, the eldest child of a large family, had gone with her parents in the 1850s to Carson Valley, Nevada, where her father was appointed to take care of the Church cattle and make butter and cheese for the tithing office. When they were returning to Utah across the Nevada deserts, her mother began her labor for the next child. The wagon was halted in the shelter of a large rock. Since it reminded him of Mount Sinai, the father, after delivering the baby girl, blessed her and named her Rocksinai. They eventually moved to Heber Valley. When one of their friends or neighbors got their rolls of wool prepared, they would invite other women and girls to bring their spinning wheels and help get the rolls spun into yarn.
“We would go early in the morning and spin all day, stopping only to eat dinner prepared by the hostess. One day I spun ten skeins, which ordinarily would have taken two or three days. … Four skeins was supposed to be a good day’s work.”

In 1989, Markus, Karen, and their three-year-old son were granted permission to leave their home in East Germany to go on a holiday to Hungary. While they were there, Hungary opened its border to Austria, providing thousands of East German refugees a way to freedom. Markus and Karen recognized their unique opportunity. They could also leave.
Leslie Nilsson, photographer
I said, “Let’s leave for Austria.”
“Oh no, you can’t,” Karen said. “Your parents are left in Germany and my parents as well.”
“They will understand,” I replied.
“We’ve already started to build a house,” Karen told me. “Let’s finish that.”
“No, let’s start again,” I said, “somewhere else, in western Germany.”
Again I tried to tell her we should leave. She said, “No, because you have just been called as bishop and you said yes, you would serve.”
This is why we did not leave Germany. Some weeks later the Berlin Wall was falling. We were blessed for staying. This was Heavenly Father’s way for us.

Jeff wanted to be a missionary just like his older brother who was on a mission in Colombia. But how can I be a missionary when I’m afraid to talk to people? Jeff wondered.
Just last week the Primary president asked all the children to be missionaries and bring somebody new to Primary.
“We have a wonderful Primary,” she told the children, “but think how much better it would be if we had more children to share our Primary with.” Then she asked the boys and girls to raise their hands if they thought they could bring a friend the next week. Jeff raised his hand. Now he wondered why he had done it. How was he ever going to get the courage to talk to anyone at school about the Church?
Jeff and Jimmy were the only two LDS boys in the fifth grade. They were also the only Blazer boys in the Primary. They had a good teacher and Jeff knew that one of the reasons why he had raised his hand to be a missionary was to please her. He knew that if other boys came, they would like Sister Fillmore and the good lessons she gave.
Jeff remembered two full-time missionaries in their sacrament meeting one time telling them about the good feeling they had when they shared the gospel with others. Jeff wanted that good feeling too. But how was he ever going to have it when he was so timid?
Jeff walked into the kitchen and slumped down in a chair by the table where his mother was decorating some dish towels with her textile paints. Jeff asked, “Won’t that paint wash out of the cloth, Mom?”
“No, Jeff, the paints are made to stay right in the fabric.”
“Hey, that’s neat. Can you paint anything on the towels you want to?” asked Jeff.
“Sure, son. You sound excited about something,” replied Mother.
Jeff was excited. He had an idea. “Mom, can I paint something on my yellow T-shirt?” he asked.
Mother laughed. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but go ahead.”
Jeff was back in a few minutes, grinning and waving his shirt. He laid it on the table and smoothed out all the wrinkles. Then, with Mother’s black painting pen, he drew on the front of the shirt a great big face with two round eyes and a large smile. Underneath the face he wrote, HAPPINESS IS GOING TO PRIMARY.
When the paint was dry, Jeff turned the shirt over and on the back he printed in large letters, WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT PRIMARY - WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW MORE? He could hardly wait to wear his shirt to school.
The next day when he walked into the coat hall there were several boys there already. As Jeff took off his jacket and hung it on the hook, one of the boys was quick to notice the bright yellow T-shirt with the big face painted on the front and the letters on the back. “What does your shirt say, Jeff? Let me read it.” said Andy.
Jeff stood still, his heart pounding. All of a sudden he thought, What if they make fun of me?
Andy read the words on the shirt out loud. “Primary?” he questioned. “What’s Primary?”
Here was Jeff’s big chance. He prayed inside that he would say the right thing. “Well, in Primary we learn to—” Jeff’s voice tightened up on him and the words got stuck in his mouth.
All of a sudden, Greg, one of the other boys, interrupted. “Hey, Jeff, isn’t Primary where you learn about Scouting and other neat things you were telling me about the other day?”
“Scouting?” questioned Andy. “My dad was an Eagle Scout and he wants me to be one too. Can I go to Primary with you Jeff? Can just anyone go?”
Before Jeff could answer, Greg said, “Me too! I never have anything to do after school. My parents both work and nobody’s ever home.”
Jeff could hardly believe what he was hearing. His voice came back and he felt relaxed and happy. “Sure,” said Jeff, “anybody can come—the more the better. It’s on Tuesday and we learn lots of neat things besides Scouting. You’ll really like our teacher. She’s just great.”
The bell rang and the boys filed into the classroom. Jeff’s seat was by his Primary friend Jimmy. As Jeff sat down, Jimmy looked at Jeff’s shirt and said, “Do you think that’s going to work?”
Jeff’s smile got bigger and bigger as he whispered, “It already has!”
At recess Jeff told Jimmy about Andy and Greg. He could hardly believe what had happened. Jimmy became excited about painting a missionary T-shirt too.
“Wow!” he exclaimed. “If we can get the whole Primary wearing these shirts to school, a lot of kids will soon be interested. Our Primary will grow bigger and bigger.”
Even shy boys can be missionaries. It just takes some doing, Jeff concluded.
Already Jeff was beginning to have that good feeling that the missionaries had talked about. Wouldn’t they be surprised when they heard about the first T-shirt missionary!

During my service as mission president, I met many young people who also demonstrated this kind of pliability. I first met Olivier Pecqueux on a visit to New Caledonia. He was 24 years old and in the military service. He was not active in the Church, pursuing instead a life of worldliness. But the Lord had other plans for him. At his request we met and discussed his patriarchal blessing. He decided to humble himself, repent, and let the Lord mold his life. Soon he was called on a full-time mission, and he became one of my most capable elders. He is now attending college and was recently married in the Tahiti temple.

Regardless of one’s opportunities for formal education, a person can engage in lifelong learning. This wrench belonged to my grandfather. He was only able to go to school through the eighth grade. He worked as a mechanic. He brought books about diesel engines home from work, and he read them. Eventually he became the supervisor over all the diesel equipment for a company in the San Francisco Bay Area. Although his opportunity for formal education was limited, he kept learning on his own.

From Dream to Reality: A Young Leader’s Culinary Journey
Meet Yazé Aristophane Guy-Landry, a dynamic young single adult leader in the Grand-Bassam Côte d’Ivoire Stake, whose journey of self-reliance began at the Gathering Place. It was there, in a simple pâtisserie class, that Yazé discovered a passion for baking and a newfound confidence in his talents.
That spark ignited a bold step forward—he enrolled at the École Hôtelière de Grand-Bassam, where he is now thriving in his culinary studies. As he builds his skills, Yazé is also gaining valuable experience by working at the hotel. His goal is clear: to eventually launch his own restaurant.
Reflecting on this journey, he shared, “This experience is changing the way I viewed life some time ago. I am convinced that if I work well, with God’s help, I will be financially good and self-sufficient.”
Yazé credits the Gathering Place not just for his career direction but also for deep personal and spiritual growth. “I can truly attest to the authenticity of this program called Gathering Place,” he said. “I believe it is a gift from heaven and carried out by our leaders to bring together the youth of the Church and their friends in an enchanted place, allowing them to learn more, whether it be skills training or the importance of human values, helping us to keep our covenants and stay on the right path.”
For Yazé, the Gathering Place is more than a classroom—it’s a community. “I had the opportunity to get to know several members and friends. I even believe that my marriage will come from the Gathering Place. I invite all my young single adult friends to give this program the utmost importance.”
Yazé’s story is a powerful example of how the Gathering Place is transforming lives, helping young adults turn hope into action and dreams into achievement.

I learned a lot of lessons from my grandparents. My grandpas worked hard and taught me to do the same. They also taught me lessons in charity. I can't tell you how many times grandpa Taylor would hand me two hot sacks and tell me to fill them with chicken and rolls from the buffet and then he would say, "Come with me." As we walked out of the café with chicken, rolls, pies and whatever else we could grab (usually a gallon of milk, a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread), I never had to ask where we were going. We would get in the van and end up at an unknown house to drop off the food. I didn't know who these people were but he knew they needed help and he blessed a lot of lives. Over the years, I have heard stories of generosity about my grandparents and not just meals they provided but missions and educations they funded, Eagle Scout projects they pushed through, jobs they provided, and the lives they touched without anyone ever knowing about it. What a legacy to live up to.

At times we may think that no one cares—but someone always cares! Your Heavenly Father will not leave you to struggle alone but stands ever ready to help. Most often such assistance comes quietly, at other times with dramatic impact. Elder Marion D. Hanks, some years ago, related an account of one who received such assistance. He told of a young divorced woman, the mother of seven children then ranging in ages from five to 16. One evening she went across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. She indicated later that as she turned to walk back home, she could see her house lighted up. She could hear echoes of her children as she had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier: “Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?” “Can you take me to the library?” “Mom, I have to get some poster paper tonight.” Tired and weary, she thought of all of those children who were home waiting for her to come home and meet their needs. She said that at that moment her burdens felt very heavy on her shoulders.

She recalled looking through tears toward the sky, and she said, “O my Father, I just can’t handle things tonight. I’m too tired. I can’t face it. I can’t go home and take care of all those children alone. Could I come to You and stay with You for just one night? I’ll come back in the morning.”

She didn’t really hear the words of reply, but she heard them in her mind. The answer was, “No, little one, you can’t come to me now, for you would never wish to return. But I can come to you.”

Jordan hadn’t seen his sister Kirsi for over a year—it felt like forever! Soon she’d be coming home from her mission to have surgery. Jordan was sad that she was sick, but he was happy that they’d be together soon.
When he came home from school the next day, Kirsi was sitting on the couch. Jordan ran and hugged her.
“Hi, Jordan! I missed you!” Kirsi said.
Jordan smiled. “I missed you too! I’m sorry that you’re sick.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Kirsi said. She was holding the Book of Mormon in her lap.
“Can I read with you?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go get your Book of Mormon, and we can start at the beginning together.”
Jordan ran to his room and grabbed his copy. “Got it!” he yelled as he ran back. He scooted in next to Kirsi.
They opened to the title page. “The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” Jordan read. They took turns reading.
“On my mission I studied the scriptures with my companion every day,” Kirsi said. “Would you be my study buddy until it’s time for me to go back to my mission?” Kirsi asked.
“Yeah!” he said.
A few days later, Kirsi had her surgery. She came home from the hospital to rest and heal for a few weeks. She and Jordan studied the Book of Mormon together every day.
Before she went back to her mission, Kirsi said, “Jordan, I want to challenge you to finish the Book of Mormon before you are baptized!”
Jordan thought about that. His eighth birthday was only a few months away. He would have a lot of reading to do. But he wanted to do it. “Yes,” Jordan said.
“As you read, will you pray and ask if it’s true?” Kirsi asked. “Moroni promised that if we do that, the Holy Ghost will tell us if it’s true.”
“OK,” Jordan said.
By the time Kirsi went back to her mission, they’d reached 2 Nephi together.
Jordan really missed Kirsi. He especially missed being her study buddy. But then he got a great idea!
At school the next day, he walked over to his best friend Jake’s desk.
“I’m going to read the whole Book of Mormon before I get baptized,” Jordan said. “Since we’re both getting baptized on the same day, do you want to do it too?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I’ve never read the whole Book of Mormon before.”
Every day at school, they asked each other the same question.
“How far along are you?”
“The end of Jacob. How far along are you?”
Soon they didn’t even have to ask the question anymore. They gave each other a look and they knew the question.
“I think we’ll finish just in time for our baptisms,” Jordan said.
Finally the day of their baptisms came.
“I finished last night,” Jordan whispered.
“Me too!” Jake said. “And I prayed to know if it was true, and I felt really warm and happy.”
Jordan smiled. “Same. I felt really happy when I prayed.” He was so thankful for Kirsi’s challenge. Now he was building his very own testimony.

Some years ago a faithful convert, Brother George McLaughlin, was called to preside over a small branch of 20 members in Farmingdale, Maine. He was a humble man who drove a milk delivery truck for a living. Through his fasting and earnest prayer, the Spirit taught him what he and the members of his branch needed to do to help the Church grow in their area. Through his great faith, constant prayer, and powerful example, he taught his members how to share the gospel. It’s a marvelous story—one of the great missionary stories of this dispensation. In just one year there were 450 convert baptisms in the branch. The next year there were an additional 200 converts. President McLaughlin indicated: “My job as branch president was to teach [the new converts] how to be Mormons. I had to teach them how to give talks and lessons in church. I had to teach them how to teach the gospel to their children. I trained the new members to become strong members.” Pretty simple.

Just five years later, the Augusta Maine Stake was organized. Much of the leadership of that new stake came from those converts in the Farmingdale Branch. Now we might ask why there was such great success in those days, and the answer may be because of the urgent need to strengthen the Church. Let me assure you that that same urgency in all units of the Church is every bit as critical today as it was then.

Sharing the gospel is about people, not numbers. So what happened in Immokalee, Florida, began just as it should have, when Junior Reyes invited one of his friends to come to church.
Little did he know what he was starting.
At the time, there were only two Aaronic Priesthood bearers in the Immokalee Branch: Junior and another young man named Jorge Caceres. Jorge was born in the Church but had become discouraged because for a long time he had been the only Aaronic Priesthood bearer in the branch. So Junior, a convert, was the only one who went to stake firesides.
“Every time I’d go, I’d see the other branches and all the youth in the stake, but from our branch, it would just be me,” Junior says. “Finally, I said, ‘Why am I the only one here from Immokalee? I’ve got to open my mouth.’
“The way I was raised, I was taught not to be scared,” he continues. “When I talk to my friends about Jesus Christ and the restored gospel, I’m not afraid; I’m happy. I know what I’m telling them can help them make their lives better.”
So Junior invited his friend Wedner Daly to come to church. “I said, ‘You learn a lot of things and you get a lot of blessings, and it’s worth it.’”
Wedner accepted.
“I didn’t think anything special about it at first,” Wedner says. “I thought it would be like other churches. But when I got there, it was the day that everybody shared their testimonies, so I got to feel the Spirit when I first came. That was different for me. I had never been to a church where people shared their testimonies and felt great about their church. That’s one of the reasons that I liked it.”
So Wedner invited his friend, Milsont Pierre. Milsont started coming to weeknight activities and then to Sunday meetings, and then the missionaries started teaching his family. He remembers vividly, “I felt the Spirit, over and over again, especially during the sacrament prayers. I knew this was the true Church.” Milsont and his three brothers were baptized and confirmed, as well as a cousin, a nephew, and four of Milsont’s friends.
From there, the Aaronic Priesthood in Immokalee just kept multiplying. “It was like a tree,” Junior says. “It just kept growing and growing.”
“One person invited another person, who invited another person, who invited another,” Milsont says.
Some of Junior’s friends from the football team came. Others invited relatives, fellow students, or long-time friends. The full-time missionaries received lots of referrals and taught and taught and taught—often accompanied by young men from the branch. Attendance at Wednesday night and Scouting activities averaged about 30, with almost as many in attendance on Sunday. Today there are 26 active young men in the branch—and one of them is Jorge Caceres, the one who had previously been discouraged about having no other young men with whom to associate.
“I became friends with Junior, too,” Jorge says, “Then when he started inviting his friends to church, I became friends with them. Every week new people kept coming.”
And Jorge noticed something. “Once they started getting to know the Church, they changed.” The gospel was changing them; getting to know Christ was changing them. “When I saw that, I started to take church more seriously. I worked on my own testimony, and now I know the Church is true.”
What has made the difference in Immokalee? Some things you would expect. “One thing that helped me a lot is reading my scriptures and thinking about it, asking questions and praying,” says Esperandieu Andfils. “When you do that and feel the Spirit, there is no denial.”
Wilnick Louis says witnessing his older brother Milsont’s baptism made a difference for him. The baptism was held on Sunday after regular meetings, so Wilnick decided to come to church first. “I’d been to activities, but that was the first time I’d come to church on Sunday,” he says. “During the meetings, and then at the baptism, I felt something good. When the missionaries asked me if I’d come again, I said, ‘Yeah, I’ll keep coming.’”
Sergio Andres says hearing the testimonies of the other young men his age made a big difference for him, and so did hearing the testimony of the full-time missionaries. “You have to share your testimony,” Sergio says, “because if people don’t know there’s a true Church, they won’t be able to find it.”
But one of the biggest factors in the growth of the Church in Immokalee appears to be the attitude the young men here have toward each other.
“We are always together,” Wedner says. “There’s a strong feeling that we’re all brothers, and I love my brothers.” Esperandieu echoes the same feeling: “I can count on them.”
That’s what Young Men leaders have noticed, too.
“They’re friends everywhere they go,” says Michael “Bo” Browne, newly sustained Immokalee Young Men president. “It’s not a situation where if they’re in school, they avoid eye contact. They’re friends and brothers outside of the Church as well as inside, and I think that’s the key.”
“They have taught me a lot of things,” says a previous Young Men president, Frank Fernandez. “But their love for each other is the best example I’ve received. That’s the kind of love we should have toward everybody. Because of that love, they are fearless. They’re not afraid to open their mouths and talk to their friends about the gospel.”
“We’re all counseled to bring our friends and relatives unto Christ,” says recently released Immokalee Young Men president and Scoutmaster Clark Robinson, “and we feel like we should do it because we’re hearing people tell us we should. But these young men do it because they found peace here, and they’re eager to have those they care about feel what they feel and know what they know. It reminds me of Lehi’s dream, when he partakes of the fruit of the tree and immediately wants to share his happiness.
“The Lord has asked everyone to take what we have and add to it. So do the math. A willing spirit plus the correct principles equals a happy, large quorum and a growing branch or ward in the Church,” Brother Robinson says.

Nearly every week I attend a stake conference somewhere in the world, so I am not able to attend the Gospel Doctrine class in my ward where the Book of Mormon is being taught this year. It really pained me to miss this privilege of catching the spirit of this very sacred other testament that Jesus is the Christ. So my wife and I set a goal to study the Book of Mormon at home. We determined to finish the 1984 course of study for the Gospel Doctrine class before this April general conference. We began in January; and on Monday, March 12, we finished the last of the forty-six lessons of the Book of Mormon course. It really felt good to accomplish this goal.

I have seen many Christmas trees. Usually they have been topped with a lighted star or a lovely angel. But the most beautiful tree I have ever seen had a big red bow on top.
I wasn’t sure how to celebrate Christmas that year. My mother had been a widow for several years, and since I was single, we had continued many of our family traditions and had celebrated most of the holidays together. When my mother died just before Christmas, however, the old traditions suddenly seemed too painful without her.
The bishopric came to visit. They expressed concern about my being alone for Christmas. Looking around, the bishop asked why there was no Christmas tree or other decorations. I explained that I didn’t want to decorate a tree alone and so had decided not to have one. Christmas was so much of a family celebration that ignoring it seemed like the best way to make it through the holidays.
After they left, I went about my work. The bishop did not let the matter alone, though: He phoned the ward Primary president. I had just been called to be the Merrie Miss B teacher but would not start serving until the first of the year.
One afternoon, Michelle, one of the girls who would be in my class, called and asked if she could drop by the next evening about 7:30. I was surprised but looked forward to her company.
The doorbell rang at exactly 7:30, but it was not just Michelle who stood on my porch. It was all of the girls in my new Primary class—with a Christmas tree, lights, and decorations!
They pushed the large tree through the door and started setting it up in my living room. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I was soon moving furniture to find just the right spot for the tree. I asked what I should do to help and was told to sit on the couch and just watch and enjoy. My next two hours were filled with the holiday laughter and love that only eleven-year-olds can create and share.
The girls told me their names and what part each had played in the project. Cindy showed me the hot-glue burns she had suffered while attaching ribbons to the backs of gingerbread cookies. Amanda couldn’t come that evening, so she had gone with her mother to buy the tree earlier in the day. Bethany was the tallest, so she was in charge of the lights. Lindsay joined in the decorating with a large box of candy canes. Rachel put a stocking filled with candy and a gift under the tree. Michelle told me that they had tried to find or make a star for the top of the tree but couldn’t, so they had brought a large red bow.
That bow topped one of the largest and most beautiful Christmas gifts I have ever received. Even before that tree was finished and lighted, my heart was full of the spirit of Christmas and of love for each girl in my future Primary class. That feeling was renewed each time I turned on the tree lights.
I have some new Christmas traditions now. I plan to have a tree every year, and it will always have candy canes, gingerbread men—and a big red bow on the top.

When we were struggling as students and living in a micro-mini apartment in Makiki, our Relief Society President brought us a Thanksgiving basket of goodies. We felt bad accepting it because we didn't really feel that we were in need compared to other families, but we appreciated the love and the fellowship of our ward members as we ate the delicious food that was given to us for our Thanksgiving meal. We knew that the Lord was watching over us.

When I was a Mia Maid, the secretary in our Young Women presidency, Sister Moore,* was moving to a new home, so all of the leaders and young women volunteered to help. The morning we showed up to help pack, everything that could go wrong seemed to be going wrong, and Sister Moore was feeling very overwhelmed. We tried to keep positive and do what we could.
After packing the boxes, we waited for the moving truck to come. But it didn’t come, and we waited, and waited, and waited. After a while, we called the driver. He explained that he had gotten lost on the way and then had run into traffic. Finally, after another two hours, we saw him turn the corner onto Sister Moore’s street.
But before the truck got any closer, it stopped. It had broken down—just far enough away that we wouldn’t be able to carry any heavy furniture to it. It was all too much for Sister Moore and she started to cry.
Our Young Women president started to comfort her, and lovingly and calmly she asked, “Did you pray before you started your day today?” Sister Moore looked surprised and said no. Our president said, “Let’s pray now.” We all knelt in the kitchen. Immediately after the prayer, we heard the truck’s engine start. It was working again! We were finally able to finish the job.
I know the power of prayer is real, and I always make sure to start my day off with a prayer to invite the Lord to be with me throughout the day.

During my junior year in high school, I was very involved with my drama club and was getting ready for an audition. There was only going to be one play that year, and I was auditioning for the lead role, so I worked really hard to get ready for the tryouts. As the day of the audition drew near, I felt more and more excited.
On a Sunday before my audition, my Young Women leader announced an upcoming temple trip. We would be going to the Manhattan New York Temple, which was unusual for our ward, because it was about three hours away. She told us that in the next few days, she would need to know who was planning on coming. Then she announced the date of the trip. My heart sank. It was the same day as my audition. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. If I went on the temple trip, I might not be able to audition to be in the play.
I know that going to the temple is important, and I always look forward to going on temple trips with my ward. I love feeling the Spirit and taking time to be out of the world. At the same time, I loved performing with my drama club and being a part of a show with my friends.
It took me longer than I expected to make my decision. At first, I decided to skip the temple trip and go to the audition instead. I convinced myself that because there was only one show that year and because there would be more temple trips, it would be OK to miss just one trip to the temple—I would just go to the next one. After I made that decision, I still felt conflicted. I prayed about it and was not convinced that I’d made the right choice. I decided to skip the audition and go on the temple trip. I finally felt at peace, and I knew that the Lord was happy with my decision.
After I told my parents that I’d decided to go to the temple, my dad called my director and explained the conflict. The director told my dad that he would work with me so I wouldn’t have to miss out on the show. When my dad told me the news, I was filled with joy. I would be able to go to the temple and participate in the show! I didn’t get the lead that year, but I did learn a valuable lesson: when we choose the right, we are blessed.

I was born in a small southern Mississippi town in 1950. My father was a career army officer. As a result, although not completely due to his career, I became the product of a broken home. It was not until my teens that I became aware of this. It was a traumatic period in my life.
My parents were strict, and I often was denied opportunities that many youth take for granted. One privilege I was allowed was to attend a local Baptist church where I gained an independence of thought and action. I felt I was somebody and had something to contribute to the world. I became a youth minister and had hopes of gaining a scholarship so I could attend a ministerial school. But the deteriorating conditions at home and diminishing faith in my religious beliefs changed that. I had increasing questions about life. I suppose at this point I simply felt sorry for myself.
At 17 I left home. All I took with me was the memory of ruined yesterdays and a fear of uncertain tomorrows. I left in anguish and bitterness. Later I joined the United States Air Force. The first place they sent me was to Vietnam. This was a startling contrast to the sheltered environment I had experienced as a child. Needless to say, rather than helping to find peace and remedy my doubts, the futility and endless agony of life there served only to create more questions and to reinforce my defeatist attitude. I began to doubt there was a God or that there was any dignity or purpose in life. Was life just the means to an uncertain end? Where and why did it all begin? I found myself wishing that I had never been born.
I left Vietnam physically well, but I was almost spiritually dead. However, something inside seemed to urge me to give God another chance, and I did in hopes that he would do the same for me.
Upon my arrival in Misawa, Japan, I went to a Baptist missionary, but he was unable to answer my questions. He encouraged me to rely on faith, but I could no longer live on the innocent faith I had as a young man. The reality I found in the world as an adult was simply too great. I had to find the answers and I had to find them now.
I was becoming desperate, so a friend asked me to accompany him to the Far East Conference of the Southern Baptist Convention in Shimoda, believing that these learned men would be able to answer my questions satisfactorily. Enroute to the convention, my friend made what he later determined was a great mistake. We stopped in Tokyo to see his friend, Bill Head, whom he had met in Thailand. Upon meeting Bill for the first time, I realized that he was different. Without him even saying a word I knew that he had something that I wanted. He radiated confidence, peace of mind, a love for life, and a love for people. He seemed to know who he was and where he was going. He had the answers I needed so desperately.
I asked him why he was unique. Bill replied, “I am a Mormon.” He gave me some pamphlets to read, and I took them with me to that convention in Shimoda. I read the material. At first the Joseph Smith account seemed ridiculous, preposterous, almost absurd. I wanted to believe that God spoke to men today. I wanted to believe that the heavens were not closed and that God was real. I wanted to believe that he lived and cared about his children and had not left us alone to drift aimlessly through life for some mysterious end. I also knew that if ever the world needed another witness of Jesus Christ it was now. But because it was so new and because it had been such a long time since God had manifested himself to the ancients, I was skeptical.
The next morning I attended a seminar at the convention. The seminar’s purpose was to discuss the anti-Christ ideologies. The first religion they attacked was not communism or some other godless ideology, but Mormonism. They had decided among themselves that Mormons worshiped Joseph Smith and ignored the fact that the formal name of the Mormon church was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If that name implied anything, it implied that Mormons were Christians of the highest degree, for they were the only people I had found who claimed the name of Jesus Christ. It wasn’t the Church of Joseph Smith, John the Baptist, Paul, Mary, John Wesley, or Martin Luther. It was the Church of Jesus Christ.
I felt the Mormons were being misunderstood so I attempted to defend them. Now I probably made somewhat of a fool of myself in the minds of those learned people, but in the process of this defense, a still, small voice said, “You’d better find out more so you can do better next time.”
I left the convention that day and returned to Tokyo. I found Bill and told him I wanted to learn more. He introduced me to a young couple, the Fredericks, who taught me the missionary discussions in two days. During that glorious two-day period the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle in my mind fell together and I found myself and my true identity.
“I am a child of God!” I exclaimed to myself. “I began with him. There is purpose and dignity to life, and a great destiny beyond!” I began to realize for the first time that I didn’t have to doubt, worry, be confused, or tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine because there is a prophet of God and twelve apostles on the earth today, just as there was anciently in the Church of Jesus Christ. I had found his Church!
Less than two weeks later, on August 12, 1970, I was baptized in Kunsan City, Korea. I know that the gospel is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that we are sons and daughters of God.
Since my conversion I have been reunited with my family and ordained an elder in the Lord’s Church. I am currently serving as a missionary in the Idaho Pocatello Mission. Like Bill, now that I am converted, I am strengthening my brethren.