Gospel Story Finder

Two years after his baptism, Gerard accepted a civil engineering position in Paris. Two months later, he was called to be the president of the Versailles Branch. While living in Paris, he became critically ill with meningitis, and his doctor explained to him the necessary plans to remove fluid from his spine. Gerard called on his home teachers for a priesthood blessing and was healed. The feared medical procedure became unnecessary.

I grew up in a house on the corner of Main Street in a small Idaho town. Often during the summer we would spend our afternoons and evenings in the front yard, playing on the grass or visiting with our neighbors.
One afternoon while we were playing in the yard, my youngest sister, who was only two years old, bolted out into the street. At the same moment, a truck with a couple of teenage boys from down the street screeched around the corner. My dad acted quickly and pulled my little sister out of the truck’s path. The boys in the truck shouted unkind and inappropriate words as they sped down the street.
I was angry, to say the least. I remember thinking someone should go down to the boys’ house and put them in their place. My sister could have been hurt or killed by their careless, dangerous driving.
I was glad when I saw my mother walking down the street, and I followed her. I was certain that the boys were going to be in big trouble. When we got to the house, the boy who had been driving answered the door. He was angry and defensive. He asked what we wanted and, to my surprise, my mother began to apologize. She said she was sorry that she had allowed her daughter to be so close to the street and told him she would watch my sister more carefully in the future.
Immediately the boy’s countenance changed. He apologized for driving so fast and for putting my sister in danger. He vowed to be more careful as he drove. After the short conversation, we returned home.
I still have never seen such an immediate change come over someone as it did over that boy that afternoon. We lived in that house for 11 more years, and in that time I never again saw the boy drive carelessly around the corner. As Proverbs 15:1 teaches, “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.” I imagine the outcome of the situation would have been very different if my mom would have approached angrily. Instead, two hearts were changed by the soft words of my mother.

When the recess bell rang, Grace hurried toward the slide with Samantha.
Chloe came running behind them. “Grace, let’s play zookeeper on the jungle gym.”
“We’re playing on the slide,” Grace said. “Want to come? We can all play together.”
“No, we can’t,” Chloe said. “You have to pick Samantha or me.”
Grace frowned. “But I already told Samantha …”
“Fine!” Chloe said, and she stomped away.
Grace walked with Samantha toward the slide. They heard Chloe’s voice behind them. She was talking to the teacher on recess duty, Mrs. Haskins.
“Grace says she doesn’t want to play with me,” Chloe said.
Grace whirled around. “That’s not what I—”
“Let’s be nice, girls,” Mrs. Haskins said.
So Grace played with Chloe, and Samantha played with someone else.
Grace thought back to the beginning of the year when she met Chloe. They played together almost every day at recess. Now Grace was getting to know the other children in her class. But Chloe got upset when Grace played with someone else. Maybe Grace could hide from Chloe at recess or tell her she didn’t want to be friends anymore. But that wouldn’t be kind.
As Mom drove home from school, Grace sighed.
“That sounds like a sad sigh,” Mom said. “What’s wrong?”
Grace told Mom about Chloe. “Friends shouldn’t be annoying, should they?”
“Do you think Chloe is trying to be annoying?” Mom asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Grace said.
“Do you think you should tell Chloe she’s annoying?” Mom asked.
Grace pictured herself telling Chloe. She imagined that Chloe’s face would look very sad.
“No,” Grace said. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Maybe you’ll need to work on not feeling annoyed with Chloe,” Mom said. “That’s a hard thing to do. Maybe you can think of some ideas and we can talk about it again at bedtime.”
That afternoon, Grace sat thinking. She needed some ideas for being patient with Chloe.
Then Grace remembered something. Her teacher, Mrs. Rosario, had shown the class a fun way to think of ideas. Mrs. Rosario called it an idea web.
Grace grabbed a piece of paper and wrote Chloe’s name in the center. Then she circled it and drew four lines coming out of the circle. At the end of each line, Grace wrote one thing she liked about Chloe.
Good imagination
Fun to play with
Loves animals
Fast runner
Grace decided that when she felt annoyed with Chloe, she could think of the reasons she liked Chloe.
At bedtime, Grace showed Mom the paper.
“What a great idea,” Mom said.
“I just thought of something else,” Grace said. “I could give this paper to Chloe at school tomorrow.”
“Another great idea,” Mom said. “I knew you’d think of something.”
At recess the next day, Grace headed outside.
“Chloe!” Grace called. “I have something for you!” Grace handed the paper to Chloe.
“It’s an idea web, isn’t it?” Chloe said.
“Yes,” Grace said. “Those are things I like about you.”
“Thanks,” Chloe said with a smile. “This is so cool.”
Even though the wind was chilly, Grace felt warm and happy as she played with Chloe. When the bell rang, Chloe looked at the paper again.
“I’m going to make an idea web for you,” she said to Grace. “And maybe tomorrow we could show Samantha how to play zookeeper.”
Grace smiled. Tomorrow would be another great day.

Sometimes making a difference is as easy as saying one sentence. A couple of years ago, before the start of the girls’ basketball season, Sue said, “Let’s say a prayer.” They followed her suggestion before that first game, and it became a habit. “I always said the prayer before every game. Sometimes I would say, ‘Doesn’t someone else want to say it today?’ And a couple of times someone else would say it. Most of the time, the team would all be standing around waiting for me, yelling, ‘Sue, hurry up and pray.’” During her campaign for student-body president, Sue introduced a theme, “Seek for the highest that is in you.” As high school students will do, some started making fun of the theme. But Sue persevered, using the theme for all the activities throughout the year, and the silliness died down. The principal of Mt. Si, Scott Menard, said, “There are always those who will take something positive and try to undermine it. Sue was able to overcome that just by her good-naturedness and by not taking herself too seriously or getting defensive when people would put the theme down. She kept it through every assembly. She didn’t allow the focus to wander, and it became the accepted motto for the students that year.” One of the projects that the students at Mt. Si really had to stretch to complete was the painting of the school halls. It was a huge job. Sue and other student-body officers decided to try for it, but it was a scary undertaking. They needed more than 200 students to show up to help with each step of the project. What if they didn’t come?
Elaine Clifford, assistant principal, said, “I walked into the first meeting, and I knew right then that they were going to make it because Sue had a notebook ready to go. In it she had inspirational sayings and a time line about what needed to be accomplished. She had a calendar. She had a list of jobs that needed to be done. And she had invited all the right people. She had invited some students that she saw as leaders. She had invited someone from the maintenance staff. She got me there. She understands organizational skills.”
The big painting project was successful, but not before Sue sweated out some last-minute crises. The first day of the four-day project dawned bright and sunny. In the normal wet weather of northwestern Washington, a sunny spring day is a rarity. “Suddenly I panicked,” said Sue. “Who would want to come paint the school on a day like that? What are we trying to do?”
But people did show up—in time for the second crisis. After the walls were sanded and taped, it was time to apply the deglosser. Just as more than a hundred students were really getting into the swing of things, the custodian rushed up to Sue and showed her the label on one of the cans. The flammable deglosser was supposed to be used only in well ventilated areas. They opened every window and door, turned off the electricity to avoid sparks, and covered all the electrical outlets. In the meantime, Sue had retreated to ask for some additional help. “I whipped into the bathroom, my favorite bathroom for praying, and was down on my knees.” Everything went smoothly. The danger was avoided. And the group had a great time. It was hard work but really a lot of fun too.
After giving the school halls a new coat of pale gray paint with maroon trim, the students under Sue’s leadership took new pride in their school. Now, if anyone even thinks about marring the walls, they are warned by their peers, “Don’t try it. I painted this wall, and nobody is going to write on it.”
Then there was the talent show where, for the first time, the students who could play the piano, sing, dance, or act were highlighted. “The neatest thing,” said Sue, “was that we have these super talented people and they never get recognized like the athletes do. That was our point. People you never hear about came out and were excited to be in the show. We held a school performance and an evening performance.”
And there were other times when a sophomore boy broke up with his first girlfriend or a star athlete got kicked off the softball team for drinking. Principal Menard said Sue was there to help. “I’ve seen her take people of all grade levels, both sexes, with her arm around them when she knows they are down, just walking down the halls with them, talking to them and cheering them up. To have the student-body president come up and do that for you is a very meaningful experience to a lot of kids. I think she works so well with people on an individual basis.”
But what holds Sue together? Where does she get the strength and resolve to keep standing up and making a difference in other people’s lives? “My mom is one of my best friends,” said Sue. “After the hardest days, I can dump out everything. She has the answers. She’ll tell me things to do about school problems or boy problems. I do it, and it works. If I didn’t have her and my dad’s support, I don’t know what I would do.” Sue also gets good advice and support from her older brother and sister and younger brother.
The Church is one of Sue’s greatest sources of guidance and comfort. At youth conference, the bishop challenged all the youth to pray for confirmation that the Church was true even if they already had a testimony.
Sue accepted the challenge although she had some reservations. “I felt I didn’t need to ask because I know the Church is true. But I wanted to tell my friends about my testimony before I graduated. They sometimes tease me about being a Mormon.”
Sue did pray, but the answer didn’t seem to come in a big way. Then she and some friends had to drive to the next town to have their pictures taken for graduation. Suddenly, she was in the middle of an intense conversation about the Church with a receptive friend. The friend asked, “How do you know that it is true, Sue?”
“All of a sudden it dawned on me that Heavenly Father was giving me an opportunity to say that I do know the Church is true. Here I was bearing my testimony, telling her this is the truth. It didn’t hit me until that night that it was the answer to my prayers.
The friend then asked if she could go to church with the Keller family. Soon she was attending seminary with Sue and receiving the discussions from the missionaries. “That’s been the greatest,” Sue said. “I’ve never done that with a friend before.”
Sue Keller is just one girl, but she is one who has made a difference. Her dad, Ward Keller, tried to pin it down. “She’s extra special, and I don’t really know how she got that way.” But he really did know. In describing his daughter, he hit upon the quality that has helped her make a difference. “She’s been an example to her peers. She has held her standards and beliefs high and has lived them.”

Something happened to me that I found of great help to me, and it may be of help to you. A memory was replayed in my mind. It was of a hotel ballroom in New Brunswick, New Jersey. We were in the New Jersey District, a single district that covered the whole state.
There was no building, no gym, no stake center, and so we traveled to a hotel ballroom for what must have been a district conference. I was sitting on a folding chair somewhere near the back, next to my mother. I must have been very young because I can remember putting my legs through the back of the chair and sitting aft instead of forward. But then I remember hearing something—a man’s voice from the pulpit. I turned around and looked. I still remember that the speaker was at a rostrum set on wooden risers. There was a tall window behind him. He was the priesthood visitor. I don’t know who he was, but he was tall and bald, and he seemed very old to me.
He must have been talking about the Savior or the Prophet Joseph, or both, because that was all that I remember much of hearing in those days. But as he spoke, I knew that what he said came from God and that it was true, and it burned in my heart. That was before scholars told me how hard it was to know. I just knew of certainty—I knew it was true.
You can have that same confidence, not of yourself, but from God. He lives, and He communicates with His children. This is the Church of Jesus Christ, and He leads it. No assignment in it need ever overwhelm you if you know that and listen for the Master’s voice.
Now I can hear the young deacons saying, “Well, now, that may be fine for you, but surely you don’t think that’s going to help me in my assignment down here in this deacons quorum.” Oh yes, I do. I was a deacons quorum adviser. A boy, the president, presided in the meetings, and I taught the lessons out of the scriptures and out of the manual.
Illustrations by Ben Sowards
I remember one boy in the quorum had to miss a few meetings, and so he sent his brother to the class with a tape recorder. His brother recorded our meeting and took it home. It happened more than once. When the deacon came back, I asked him why. I don’t remember his words, but I remember that it was clear he knew what I knew. God was trying to speak to that deacons quorum. The boy wasn’t anxious to have a tape recording to hear me; he was trying to hear God. He knew where to listen and how to hear.
He’d read the scriptures for us in class, and I knew he knew them and loved them. And so, even when I wasn’t teaching very well, by the power of the Holy Ghost and from knowing the Master’s voice in the scriptures, he could hear what he needed to hear. The memory of that black recorder with its tape turning will always remind me of the scripture which says, “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear” (Matthew 11:15).
I spoke at his funeral just a few years later. He lived about as many years as the Prophet Joseph had lived when he saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in the grove. My deacon hadn’t seen a vision, but he had heard the voice of God through His servants in a deacons quorum. He wanted to hear, he knew how, and he had the faith he could. Like the boy prophet Joseph, he knew the heavens were open.
You and I can take confidence in that assurance. If you and I will study the scriptures and pray and tune our hearts and ears, we will hear the voice of God in the voice of the people that He has sent to teach and guide us and direct us. You and I can take confidence in that assurance for the Church itself. However large the kingdom will grow (and it will fill the earth), you will not ever feel lost or forgotten, and you need never feel overwhelmed. God will call people to care about you and to teach you. And if you will listen and hear the voice of God, the kingdom will roll forth to its appointed place, ready for the coming of the Master.
None of us can see now all the wonders of technology and organization and buildings that God may give us; but you, just you, hearing the voice of God through your teacher and leader, will always be at its heart.
I testify that God loves His children and can tell us what is true. I pray that we all may have ears to hear, that He may guide us.

Photograph by Mirna Ortiz
Elder Esteban Méndez’s mother said the Lord isn’t “casual” in His plan for His children. He is always aware of our needs. Elder Méndez was originally called to serve in the Guatemala Guatemala City Mission, and his parents were excited for him to serve.
Just before leaving the Mexico Missionary Training Center to enter the mission field, however, he returned home. His parents were confused. They came to understand that the Lord had called him to serve in Guatemala so that he could deepen his own conversion while in the Mexico Missionary Training Center. Much of his testimony began to grow there in Mexico.
Soon after returning home, Elder Méndez was called to be a service missionary in Costa Rica, where he lives. He didn’t know anything about service missions but accepted the call with faith that he could serve the Lord there too.
He didn’t know anything about service missions but accepted the call with faith.
After accepting the call, Elder Méndez became the first young service missionary in Costa Rica. At the time, he and his companion were the only young service missionaries in the entire country.
Elder Méndez’s service includes assisting in the mission office, accompanying the teaching missionaries, and serving in the San José Costa Rica Temple.
Elder Méndez’s father said, “Because of Elder Méndez’s efforts, one extended family member has been baptized and another is taking missionary lessons.”

Behind the auditorium was a doubly large cultural hall, with offices and rooms off to one side. Shirley Rudd found herself cornered back in those inner reaches of the huge building. She was the one who changed all the bouncy, modern, wedge haircuts to 19th century pioneer bobs at the nap of the neck.
“At first I had to do 40 or 50 hairdos—that was during dress rehearsal. Then most of the kids got the idea and started doing their own hair. By closing night, I just did a few repair jobs, helped some of the guys change from young, black-haired dancers to powdered-haired grandpas for different scenes, and that was it.”

A long time ago there lived a handsome king in a gorgeous hilltop palace in a beautiful green land. This king had many servants and costly clothes and delicious food to eat. His crown was covered with rare jewels that shone and twinkled as he turned his head from side to side when he rode in parades.
The king was a good man and a kind man, but because he had never been poor, he didn’t understand the problems that poor people have. He had never had to work hard in the fields or take care of sick children, so he didn’t know what it was like to be weary or very worried.
One day as the king was riding through the countryside in his carriage, a carriage wheel began to wobble. A poor laborer who was working nearby saw the carriage stop. He hurried over, bowed to the king, and offered his services. Pleased that the laborer helped so efficiently and willingly, the king removed his cloak and gave it to him. Now, the laborer needed food for his family, not a cloak that he would never wear, but he humbly bowed and thanked the king.
Another day, when some enemies from afar invaded the king’s land, he sent his ablest soldiers to fight them. His soldiers fought for three days and drove the enemy away. The king was so happy about it that upon the soldiers’ return, he had his entertainers put on a show for them. Now, what the soldiers really wanted was to go home and go to bed because they were exhausted. However, they didn’t wish to give offense, so they humbly bowed before the king and smiled as they watched the show.
One spring a sickness spread throughout the land, and many children became very ill. Mothers and fathers stayed up night after night, caring for their sick children and praying that they would get well.
During this troublous time the king, who had no children, decided to have a beautiful ball and to invite the whole kingdom. He had heard that many families had sick children, but he thought that a ball would cheer them up. The parents cried when they received their invitations because they knew that they must attend. They grieved at leaving their sick children, but the king had such a wonderful time at the ball that he didn’t notice that no one else did.
That night, after the king went to bed, a servant put a container of fireplace embers and ashes just outside the palace door. He had been too eager to get home to his children to dispose of the contents properly. Later, another servant was carrying paper decorations from the palace. He saw the container by the door and, not realizing that it contained smoldering coals, piled the decorations on top of the ashes.
Early the next morning a mother trying to comfort her sick child happened to look out the window and see the whole side of the palace on fire. She sounded the alarm immediately, and the king and the palace workers escaped with their lives. But except for the night clothes that they were wearing, they lost all their possessions. The palace and everything in it were destroyed!
The king stood a safe distance from his once-beautiful palace and watched it burn. His face was covered with soot, and he shivered in the crisp night air. One by one his servants slipped away to return to their families in the countryside. They were afraid to ask him to go home with them, because they knew that he was used to the finest of everything.
So the king crept closer to the charcoaled remains of his palace and sat there all night.
The next day his subjects wanted to take something to the king to let him know that they were sorry for his loss. They knew that whatever they took would have to be something splendid, something fit for a king.
The tinsmith and his wife decided to take a beautiful silver tray and pitcher. When they delivered it to the king, he thanked them kindly. But after they left, he wished that they had brought him some water and a loaf of bread instead, for he was hungry.
The tailor and his wife, forgetting that the king no longer had a bed, took him a pair of satin sheets trimmed with gold thread. The king quietly thanked them, but after they left, he thought that some warm clothes would have been more useful, for he was cold.
When a farmer came with a fine horse as his gift, the king was a little more pleased. At least now he could ride to the river and wash. The king humbly thanked the farmer, but still he wished again that the gift had been some food.
The king could have commanded the people to bring him whatever he wanted, but somehow, without a palace, fine clothes, his beautiful crown, and many servants, he didn’t feel much like a king anymore. He didn’t feel like giving commands.
He rode to the river, washed his face and hands, and drank his fill. Then, as he sat there and wondered and worried about what to do, the poor laborer who had repaired his carriage wheel approached him. The laborer bowed as he held out the cloak the king had given him. “This has never been worn by anyone, Your Majesty, since you gave it to me. I have no use for it.” The laborer was immediately embarrassed by his own words, for he thought that he sounded a bit ungrateful. But the king smiled at the laborer and took the cloak and wrapped it about himself. This man would have been more grateful for food, the king thought, just as I would be now.
The laborer had barely left when a group of musicians and dancers came by. There on the banks of the river they put on a show for the king. The king wanted to cry out, “Don’t bring me music and dance; bring me food and a warm place to stay.” Then he thought of his valiant soldiers, tired and dirty, who had had to sit through a palace show when what they had needed was food and rest.
And he thought of the tired and weary parents who had had to leave their sick children in order to attend his ball. What an inconsiderate and foolish ruler I have been, he thought. If only I could have back my palace, I would be truly kind and help my people according to their real needs.
A long time after the musicians and dancers had left, a shepherd boy approached from the hills. He saw a man, tired and with tears in his eyes, sitting by the river. Not knowing that the man was his king, the shepherd boy sat down beside him and shared his bread and cheese with him.
When the boy returned to his flock, the king mounted his horse and rode back toward the remains of his palace. He was astounded to see loyal subjects from throughout his kingdom hewing logs and shaping stones to rebuild his palace.
The king was grateful for the chance that they were giving him. And he vowed that he would be a much better, kinder ruler.
And he was.

This is a story my father, Emlyn Davies, used to tell about a moment in his childhood when he learned something powerful about faith and prayer.
“When I was about 10 or 11, I went to a school camp by the seaside for a week. During the first few days, we played football, cricket, rugby—mostly team sports. We were told that if we did our best, there was a chance we could win a prize.
As I knelt in prayer that night, I asked Heavenly Father to help me win a prize. Well, the next day there was boxing and swimming. I couldn’t swim and I couldn’t box as far as I knew. I certainly wasn’t going to win any prizes. The events that I felt I could do, I entered but I didn’t win anything. That second night I knelt in prayer and asked Heavenly Father, ‘Please help me to win a prize.’ I had every confidence that I would. We call it faith, I suppose. But I really felt if I offered my prayers I would win.
At that age, I was very slim and could run very fast—100 yards was my race. I’d usually win and even look back at the others as I crossed the finish line. I thought, ‘This will be the one.’ I got through the heats and into the final.
On the day of the final run, I raced and felt confident. I was in front and thought I’d go even faster. But in that spurt to go faster I stumbled and fell. In the 100 yards you haven’t got time to pick yourself up and win again. So of course I didn’t win. I thought, ‘Well I don’t know now what my chances are to win anything.’ But that night I offered my prayers again and I said, ‘Heavenly Father, please help me to win a prize.’ I entered the tug-of-war; we didn’t win. I had entered everything I thought I could possibly do, but I didn’t win anything.
On the Saturday night they said they’d give the prizes out to the youth who had won. As the names were called I felt really sad. I felt I’d offered my prayers and I’d done my best, but I hadn’t won. Then one of the teachers called, ‘Emlyn, they want you up to the front.’ So I went to the front and the teacher said, ‘Now we have a very special prize. This boy is the bravest boy in all the camp. He’s brave because he’s the only boy who knelt by his bed at night and offered prayers. There are no prizes for saying your prayers. But we teachers got together and bought a prize for the brave boy.’ It wasn’t much of a prize but for me it was a great prize to have. I thought, ‘Well my prayers are answered again.’”

Few sights are as adorable—and as inspiring—as young children teaching a family home evening lesson. But helping children prepare lessons can be a struggle. One day as I was cleaning the house, I found a simple solution right before my eyes.
There on the floor was a hand-out one of my children had brought home from Primary. Suddenly the handout seemed like gold. It occurred to me that it—and others I had attached to the refrigerator or hidden away in drawers—could serve as springboards for lessons my children could give for family home evening!
That day I started files for each of my children in which to keep the pictures and other handouts they occasionally bring home from Primary. Now when one of my young children has a lesson assignment for family home evening, I open the appropriate file and let him or her look through it. Inevitably they find a visual aid they can use to teach our family a principle once taught them by a caring and inspired teacher.

Junius Burt of Salt Lake City, a longtime worker in the Streets Department, related a touching and inspirational experience. He declared that on a cold winter morning, the street cleaning-crew of which he was a member was removing large chunks of ice from the street gutters. The regular crew was assisted by temporary laborers who desperately needed the work. One such wore only a lightweight sweater and was suffering from the cold. A slender man with a well-groomed beard stopped by the crew and asked the worker, “You need more than that sweater on a morning like this. Where is your coat?” The man replied that he had no coat to wear. The visitor then removed his own overcoat, handed it to the man and said, “This coat is yours. It is heavy wool and will keep you warm. I just work across the street.” The street was South Temple. The good Samaritan who walked into the Church Administration Building to his daily work and without his coat was President George Albert Smith of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His selfless act of generosity revealed his tender heart. Surely he was his brother’s keeper.

One mother tells the story of her initial attempt to do something with her antagonistic daughter. For some time the daughter had associated with a group of girls whose behavior—drinking, late parties, and skipping school classes—had been the cause of much contention in the home. Soon the only conversation the girl had with her parents was loud and condemning. The mother, finally realizing how far their relationship had deteriorated, determined to do something about it.

The daughter was unwilling to spend time with her mother in any kind of activity, but she was willing to let her mother drive her to school each morning. The first few weeks were strained; their conversations were simple questions with yes/no answers. But as time went on and the daughter saw that her mother would not criticize or condemn her, she began to open up to her mother, to share her life and feelings with her. Their morning rides became close and comfortable conversations, and the young girl found her mother to be a loyal friend.

The patient was tall, good-looking, and dressed in white, and he looked into my eyes without uttering a word. I had come to pick up his prescription so I could go buy his medication.
Just then a nurse, also dressed in white, appeared and held out a piece of paper to me. It seemed to be a medical history.
“Is this his file number?” I asked.
She did not reply but merely turned the sheet over. There on the back was a number: 12.830.
This incident would not be remarkable in any way if it were not for the fact that this particular patient had died more than a year before, on 7 April 1990. He was my younger brother, Carlos Hugo, and I was only dreaming.
I awoke at 4:00 A.M. and immediately wrote down the number. That same day I got up early and told my daughter Ana about the dream. I showed her the number, and she said it looked like a date, not a number on a medical file. A light went on in my mind. This dream had to have something to do with the family history information I was looking for on my paternal grandmother. For 10 years I had tried to find my father’s birth certificate. With no success, I had turned my efforts toward locating information on his mother.
When I had the dream, I had intended to return to the historical archives in the province of Mendoza, Argentina, to see if researchers had found any information that might be useful to me. I had asked them to search the years between 1925 and 1932. But before going to the archives, I felt a strong prompting to visit the Godoy Cruz cemetery.
By 8:00 A.M. that same morning, I was asking Mr. Paz, an employee at the cemetery, if he would do me the favor of using that date to look through his records for any information on the death of my grandmother, Margarita Flores. As he leafed through the old worn books, I prayed silently and fervently.
Suddenly I heard him say, “Well, are you ever lucky! This is where your grandmother is buried.” He wrote out a document so stating, signed it, affixed a seal to it, and then kindly went with me to sector H, where I saw a small brass plate that read, “Margarita Flores. Died 12/8/1930”—the same date I had seen in my dream.
I was not yet born when my grandmother died. But more than 60 years after her death, I was able to find the place where she was buried.
I next went to the archives to see if they had found anything relating to my grandmother. “Negative,” said the man who waited on me. I handed him the certificate Mr. Paz had given me at the cemetery, and five minutes later I was holding a photocopy of my grandmother’s death certificate in my hands. Using this information, I was eventually able to locate my father’s birth certificate and the names of my great-grandparents.
In His infinite mercy, our loving Heavenly Father had made it possible for necessary information to be communicated to me. I immediately sent all the data I had obtained to the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple so that vicarious ordinances could be performed.
I know I have much more to do. But I also know that when our minds and hearts are willing and when we make the effort, we receive help from heaven. One day there will be a glorious resurrection, and with all my being I desire to find myself united with my loved ones.

Much of what I know came from my family. When I was about eight years old, my wise mother asked my brother and me to pull weeds with her in our family’s backyard garden. Now, that seems a simple task, but we lived in New Jersey. It rained often. The soil was heavy clay. The weeds grew faster than the vegetables.
I remember my frustration when the weeds broke off in my hands, their roots stuck firmly in the heavy mud. My mother and my brother were soon far ahead in their rows. The harder I tried, the more I fell behind.
“This is too hard!” I cried out.
Instead of giving sympathy, my mother smiled and said, “Oh, Hal, of course it’s hard. It’s supposed to be. Life is a test.”
In that moment, I knew her words were true and would continue to be true in my future.

For Cathy Antonsson of Helsingborig, Sweden, saying no was not always easy or pleasant.

“It was rough. It’s not easy, but you have to pay the price for who you are. Sometimes I cried my eyes out because I had to stay home. It was difficult because many people here just aren’t religious.
“I went to Rome for two weeks on a school trip. In Italy, they always offered us wine. They have wine with most of their meals, so my friends kept offering me wine, and I kept saying, ‘No, I don’t drink that.’
“My friends spent so much money on drinks. Everytime we went out, I would put the same amount of money in my purse that they spent on their drinks. Before we left, I went to an exclusive dress shop and bought a very expensive designer dress. All my friends were really surprised when they saw it and said, ‘Hey, how could you afford that?’ I told them what I had done and that that was one of the advantages of not drinking.”
Despite the hardships, Cathy was glad she upheld her standards. “After I graduated from junior college (in Sweden, students 16 to 19 attend junior college), a boy that I used to date told me that when we started school he had set a goal that before we graduated he would get me to break my standards. He said it always bugged him that I was so moral.
“When we used to go out on dates, I always said, ‘Hey, no way. I want to be your friend, but I don’t do that.’ After it was all over, he told me, ‘I have never respected a girl as much as I respect you.’”

To those who doubt.

Justin and Kenna Valdez moved away from family so it would be easier for them to walk away from their faith. But the hero of this story was their eight-year-old son, who still wanted to be baptized. Sensing an opening door, a wise stake president scheduled a ministering visit for us to go to their home. I still remember Kenna’s squinty look as she stared at me as I walked into the room. But she eventually confided she still had faith in the Savior and even a testimony of the Book of Mormon. But she faced a few triggering issues that kept her from coming back to church. We promised them that as they anchored in the things they did believe, the Lord would help with the things they didn’t. Overcoming their concerns was not an issue of resolving every faith question but of helping them recognize the Holy Ghost. As President Oaks recently taught, “You live in a season in which the adversary has become so effective at disguising truth that if you don’t have the Holy Ghost, you will be deceived.” Justin and Kenna began to make the changes necessary to come back. Six months after our visit, Kenna texted me, “Hi Elder Gilbert! We are ready to be sealed as a family.” This is a photo from the day that they were sealed in the Pocatello Idaho Temple.

At night, the sky is dark and Queens Road, which leads into Suva, Fiji, is lit only by the headlights of approaching cars. Sometimes, the road seems to melt into the shadows, and it is difficult to see what lies ahead. Then, just around a bend, a beautiful radiance appears on the hill above the road, like a heavenly apparition. The warm glow of Suva, Fiji’s Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints draws the traveler’s gaze upward and beckons all to ascend out of the darkness and into the light.
Members of the Sigatoka Branch were delighted to attend the Suva Fiji Temple that morning in August 2022. For members of the Church, the temple is a sacred place of worship, a place of peace and revelation; a place to feel closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It is where sacred ordinances are performed and families are united—not just until death parts them, but for eternity.
In February 2022, Sister Basilisa Nadreke Lotawa was asked by the Sigatoka Branch President (a lay church leader) to serve as a temple and family history specialist. Basilisa’s job was to urge her congregation to lift their spiritual eyes to the light of the temple and to prepare themselves for temple worship. She also had to learn how to do genealogical research then teach her fellow Saints how to identify their deceased ancestors in order to participate by proxy, temple ordinances on their behalf.
Basilisa, a young mother of three, shook her head and laughed. “I knew nothing about doing family history—nothing . . . and I’m too young to do it.” Still, wanting to serve the Lord, she sought the help of an experienced genealogist and was soon able to assist her branch members. With a new conviction and passion for family history, Basilisa expressed: “I am so blessed and honoured to participate in this glorious work. It has been marvelous, tremendous! I have seen miracles and wonders. The Lord provided a way for me to do the work and to help my branch.”
With young children in tow, Basilisa spent many hours at the computer in her chapel helping others to extend the branches of their family trees. She invited them—adults and youth—to find five deceased family members who needed proxy baptisms. Branch members caught her enthusiasm and found two hundred ancestors!
At 2:00 am on the 27th of August 2022, members of the Sigatoka Branch boarded a bus to Suva temple. The early start didn’t dampen their spirits. Their excitement was palpable as they arrived on the temple grounds—they were ready to participate in ordinances on behalf of their ancestors, and other ordinances for themselves.
It was an especially joyful day for Maritiano Ratumeli, the Sigatoka Branch President. He, his wife and their two sons were united in the temple as an eternal family, by the authority that the scriptures call, the “sealing power.” President Ratumeli, teary eyed, said: “It is so amazing to say that I am one of those blessed to be sealed in the temple. I didn’t expect . . . that the branch would be with me, but the Lord planned for them to witness this. My goal is to inspire others to come. I’m feeling good and blessed that my family can be together forever.” Other branch members marveled as they “felt the Spirit” and “felt their family members there.”
As for Basilisa, there is no doubt that her love for the temple and family history work—even at this busy stage of her life, will continue to bless her. She said: “I feel the same joy doing this [work] that I felt when I served my mission.” She and her branch now keep their eyes fixed firmly on the holy temple.

I was skeptical when the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. My first thought was that Joseph Smith, like many other so-called “prophets,” may have brought a false book into the world seeking to become wealthy, famous, or heroic.
I had no intention of reading the Book of Mormon. But over time the missionaries’ friendship and their enthusiasm for the gospel allowed my curiosity toward their message to grow.
As I read the verses the missionaries gave me in the Book of Mormon, I found Moroni’s invitation to ask God with a sincere heart, real intent, and faith in Christ if the Book of Mormon is true (see Moroni 10:4–5). I thought, “Who, knowing the book was fake, would dare challenge us to ask God with real intent and sincerity if the Book of Mormon is true?”
Then one day the missionaries explained that Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum, were martyred for their testimony. Suddenly, a thought came to me that they would never have given up their own lives for something they knew was false. At that moment, a warm feeling, like a burning fire, spread through me. It was a witness of the Holy Spirit confirming to my heart that Joseph Smith was a true prophet. With this witness, I was baptized and confirmed.

For example, when Kenneth Miklya was converted to the gospel, the priests quorum in the St. Paul Minnesota First Ward took care of all the baptismal arrangements, under the bishop’s direction. One seventeen-year-old priest conducted the service, another presented an appropriate spiritual message, and a third baptized him. During the following months Ken received the Aaronic Priesthood and was ordained a deacon, a teacher, and a priest—all by his fellow priests quorum members. “It was a meaningful experience for all the young men involved,” says Thomas A. Holt of the St. Paul Minnesota Stake. “The priesthood became a reality to them. Most of these young men are currently serving missions.”

Priscilla Samson-Davis, a sister in Ghana, has known struggles. There have been many rocks on the path of her life. As a teacher she has watched families nurse children through dysentery and malaria, work hard, barter daily for sacks of rice, onions, tomatoes—any food to keep their loved ones alive. She serves as a visiting teacher, regularly traveling on the bus to see a sister on the other side of town. When asked if this task were a burden, given all she had to manage, she simply replied, “It’s not hard. The woman I visit can’t read. When I go, I read the scriptures to her.”
Her simple answer testified to the faith and assurance she had that she was on the proper path. Though her bus route was halting and likely wound up and down streets, in the Lord’s eyes it was truly straight and narrow, for she was going in the right direction. She was about her Father’s business. She exemplified the spirit described by President Ezra Taft Benson when he said, “The best measure of true greatness is how Christlike we are” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1986, p. 100; or Ensign, May 1986, p. 78).