Gospel Story Finder

In 1966, challenged with the loss of his sight, Brother Bollbach decided to expand his carpentry skills and to learn woodcarving. He also wanted to help others facing challenges similar to his own. “I made a goal to help the helpless and discouraged people,” he states. “I wanted to show that disabled people could still work and succeed.” A few weeks later, he registered at a school for the blind in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Gordon Clegg, supervisor at the school, says he has taught hundreds of blind people how to carve wood. But Fritz Bollbach, he says, had a special talent. “All I did was build his confidence,” Brother Clegg comments. “He was cautious at first about working with machinery, as most people would be if they were blind.”
Although it was dangerous, Brother Bollbach relied on his fingers to feel the shape and texture of the wood as he chiseled away. Even after breaking one piece of wood after another, he refused to give up. “After weeks of breaking wood, I finally finished a little chess piece,” Brother Bollbach remembers. “A month later, carving without sight, I made a chessboard and a chess table.” On his graduation day, he presented the chess set to the school. Brother Clegg then entered the set in a state fair competition. It won a first-place ribbon.

On November 1, 1857, Elder George A. Smith delivered a memorable discourse, which included this old Chinese fable:
“A man travelling through the country came to a large city, very rich and splendid; he looked at it and said to his guide, ‘This must be a very righteous people, for I can only see but one little devil in this great city.’
“The guide replied, ‘You do not understand, sir. This city is so perfectly given up to wickedness … that it requires but one devil to keep them all in subjection.’
“Travelling on a little farther, he came to a rugged path and saw an old man trying to get up the hill side, surrounded by seven great, big, coarse-looking devils.
“‘Why,’ says the traveller, ‘this must be a tremendously wicked old man! See how many devils there are around him!’
“‘This,’ replied the guide, ‘is the only righteous man in the country; and there are seven of the biggest devils trying to turn him out of his path, and they all cannot do it.’” (Journal of Discourses, 5:363–64.)
After relating the fable, Elder Smith added that “the devil has the world so perfectly at his disposal that it requires few devils to keep it in subjection” and that “the whole legion of devils has nothing to do but look after the ‘Mormons’ and stir up the hearts of the children of men to destroy them—to put them out of existence.” (Journal of Discourses, 5:364.)

While sitting in a medical clinic waiting room, I noticed a mother with her daughter. The child wore a face mask and coughed many times. Her eyes were sunken, and her face was pale. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Her mother looked worn-out.
The waiting room was small, so I heard everything she said. After she paid her co-pay for their visit, the receptionist reminded her of a past-due balance that was more than double what her current visit cost.
The woman explained, with difficulty controlling her emotions, that she would not have any spare money until the following month. She said she barely had enough to pay her rent. The receptionist told her she should try to pay off her balance as quickly as possible. The woman and her child were then ushered into the back for their appointment.
As I sat there, I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman and her situation. I am by no means wealthy, but when I thought about how good the Lord has been to my family and me, I felt an overwhelming desire to help this woman and her daughter.
I approached the receptionist, wondering if what I wanted to do was even possible. I explained that I had overheard the woman’s predicament and wanted to pay her remaining balance. The receptionist was surprised but also delighted to honor my request.
I asked her to tell the woman that the balance had been paid and that she no longer need worry about it. I also told the receptionist not to say who had paid it. Then I paid the balance and continued with my appointment. I did not see the woman or her daughter again, but I prayed that things would soon improve for them.
It is hard to describe the amazing joy that filled my soul as I left the clinic that day. No wonder the Savior speaks about having a fulness of joy (see Doctrine and Covenants 11:13). More than ever before, I knew that I wanted to be more like my Savior and to experience more often the joy that comes from serving Him.

When I tell you that I played football in high school, it is not a boast. It is more of a confession.
You see, football came to our country town later than most. The school board had neither the money for equipment nor for a coach. Instead, we all played basketball. The only equipment you needed was a pair of shoes.
Finally, our principal saved enough to buy 12 inexpensive football outfits, not including shoes. The cleated shoes were too expensive, so we used our basketball shoes instead. Our coach was recruited from the faculty. He was selected because he had once watched a football game. We learned a few simple plays. We learned how to tackle—or so we thought. Then we set off for our first game with Twin Falls, the previous year’s Idaho state champions.
We dressed and went out to the field to warm up. Their school band started to play. They had more students in the band than we had in our entire high school! Then through the gates came their team. Our team of 12—a full team of 11 plus one all-around substitute—watched in amazement as they kept coming through the gates, all 39 of them in full uniform.
The game was most interesting. To say it was a learning experience is rather mild. After two plays we didn’t have any desire to have the ball, so we would kick it away, and soon they would score. Our main problem was how to get rid of the ball. It was less punishing for us when we weren’t being tackled!
In the final minutes of the game the other team became a little reckless. A wild pass fell into the arms of Clifford Lee, who was playing halfback with me. He was startled. He didn’t know what to do until he saw what seemed to be the San Francisco 49ers thundering after him. Then he knew what to do! He was not interested in six points. He ran for his life.
He was fast. He made a touchdown, and we finally got six points on the board. We really didn’t deserve the six points, but with our torn shirts and socks and our bloody shins, we took them anyway. The final score: 106 to 6!
That game was definitely a learning experience. I learned that a team (or an individual) must be prepared. Success in all things depends on preparation.

That afternoon, orders came from firemen to evacuate the mission home so it could be dynamited and razed in an effort to clear a fire line. Drawers, beds, rugs, furniture, record books, and suitcases went onto a horse-drawn dray that took them to a small park two blocks away. Here the load was placed in a compact pile and covered with a carpet, under which some of the elders tried to sleep that exciting night. The fine organ recently given to the branch by the mayor and other friends was safely stored with one of the members.
On Thursday, as the fires and dynamiting continued, the Robinson family and several other Saints relocated in Golden Gate Park—a day late for the scheduled picnic! There they were better off, they knew, than other homeless members camped in Jefferson Square, where sanitary conditions were abhorrent. For food, the Saints took turns waiting in bread lines which ran four abreast and blocks long; two or three loaves per person was the limit—if supplies outlasted the line. A special pass allowed President Robinson to cross the bay to Oakland for bread, bringing back “two suitcases full each day, distributing the same to the women and children in greatest need in four parks we visited.”

This story reminds me of an experience I had when I was an undergraduate student here at BYU. Being at college can be a really exciting time, but I found that it was also really challenging. And my guess is that although our specific challenges may be different, you can relate to how hard it was at times. My last semester was probably my most difficult semester emotionally, and I felt as if the wind and waves of life might sink me. My mom had passed away the previous year, and though I did not recognize it at the time, I was experiencing depression. Nothing felt exciting to me, and life did not really feel worth living. Every day it seemed that the best I could do was just to go through the motions.

On top of that, I had just completed an internship working in an orphanage in Eastern Europe. After seeing so many young children abandoned and neglected, I had a hard time seeing how my classes were meaningful, so I did not attend class as much as I should have. And then, of course, I wondered why I was not doing as well as I wanted to on some of my exams.

I had chosen public health as my major, and I had thought that by my last semester I would know just what to do with my life. But with graduation only months and then weeks away, I realized that I was clueless—maybe more clueless than I had ever been. Of course I did what most any BYU student would do: I prayed for direction. I prayed and I prayed. And I felt absolutely nothing. I was so discouraged and afraid. I felt as if I were in that boat with the disciples trying to shake the Savior awake, only this time He kept on sleeping. Where was the peace, and why had He abandoned me?

Now, in hindsight, I can see that the Lord was wide awake and calming the storm. He sent a friend who gave me encouragement and advice as I was having a meltdown in the process of applying to master of public health programs. I ran into one of my favorite professors who suggested that I apply to a program I had never heard of before but that I ended up attending. Even though I could not feel the Spirit guiding me—maybe that was because of my depression, maybe because I was still learning to interpret how the Spirit spoke to me, or maybe because He wanted to empower me to work things out—I now see that He still inspired my logic and reasoning so that I could figure out the next steps.

Eventually my inner storms were calmed. The depression lifted. I had a wonderful experience in my graduate program. I now realize that figuring out what to do with your life is a lifelong process, but I have loved the path that the Lord has guided me on.

Brother Misalucha told about sharing the gospel with a friend, Larry Yumul. “He asked me why I became a Latter-day Saint,” Brother Misalucha said. “I told him that I had been looking for a church with more answers, a church that practiced what it preached, a church that could teach us things we hadn’t known before.”

Two and one-half months later, Brother Yumul joined the Church. He had a neighbor who used to profane, gamble, and dump his trash in front of the Yumuls’ house. Brother Yumul’s attitude toward him changed. “He began treating him like a good neighbor and tried to be a good Christian to him,” Brother Misalucha explained. “The formerly lousy neighbor cleaned up his act and joined the Church! Now he’s shared the gospel with another family, and they’ve been baptized, and they’ve helped introduce the missionaries to another family that also joined the Church!”

I am now a great-grandmother, but I shall never forget a Christmas I experienced as a young child.
I was one of 14 children in my family, and we lived in a farming town. We were very poor as far as worldly goods are concerned, though I didn’t know it then. A family in our town was even poorer than we were. The mother had died, and the father was working away from home, leaving the older children to care for the younger ones.
After we had opened our Christmas gifts, my father spoke to us about this motherless family and how they might not receive gifts. He suggested that each of us choose one of our new gifts to be placed in a box, along with food and other goodies, for this family.
I had three presents—a doll, a necklace, and an article of clothing. What a hard decision it was for me! I needed the clothing, and I wanted the doll badly, but the necklace was so pretty and sparkly. After a time, I reluctantly dropped the necklace into the box.
It was dark on Christmas night when Dad buttoned our coats and placed all of us in our horse-drawn sleigh. We left the box on this family’s doorstep, with no indication of the giver.
The next Sunday, I saw the necklace around the neck of a girl my age. She excitedly told me that Santa had left a box of gifts for them on Christmas night. Of course, my parents had sworn us to secrecy. Dad had told us that being anonymous was the best part of giving. But I can’t say it felt that good to see what had been my necklace on someone else’s neck.
Though it wasn’t an easy lesson then, I now realize the great impact this experience has had on my life. As a child I thought my father was asking me to give up a gift, but later I understood that he was actually giving me one of the most precious gifts I have ever received. How much he must have loved me, to teach me that loving someone is far more important than having something! My father’s example of love has helped me understand the love of Heavenly Father, who presented us the greatest gift of all when He gave His Only Begotten Son.

Dario Gonzalez of Montevideo, Uruguay, understands that there are priesthood callings—specific assignments or “jobs” that come from the bishop and other priesthood leaders. Dario is 16 and a priest, and his callings include home teaching with his dad and serving as first assistant in his priests quorum.
But Dario also understands that there is one calling every priesthood bearer has—the call to serve whenever and wherever possible. It’s a call to follow the Savior’s example in every part of life.
Be dependable.
When it comes to specific assignments, Dario is someone you can count on. “He’s a good home teaching companion and shows real concern for our families,” says his dad. “He always helps remind me when it’s time to go.”
It’s the same with his quorum leadership role. Dario may be the only active priest in his branch. But he realizes a quorum leadership calling means more than conducting meetings and making assignments. He not only visits other priests to encourage them, but he works with the deacons and teachers too, visiting the inactive and offering friendship and encouragement.
Then there’s that general calling to serve, the one every priesthood bearer has. That’s why you’ll find Dario working alongside other priesthood bearers—young and old—to help put a roof on a member’s house, or to build a bathroom for one of the widows, or to help a family move into their new home.
That general calling is also why you will find Dario grocery shopping for the nonmember widow down the street. Or taking care of the children in a family while their mother is in the hospital. All this takes time, but, Dario explains, “I feel good; I don’t feel forced into it. I still have time for study and for my friends. Besides, I go with my friends in the priesthood to do many of these things.”
Follow the Savior.
In many ways, Dario is an ordinary guy. He loves soccer, volleyball, and track. Dario is also quite modest, and getting him to talk about his priesthood service is not easy. Ask him what striving to magnify his callings has done for him, and he searches for words. Then he simply says, “I feel closer to Christ by trying to follow his example.”

As you pray to Heavenly Father in faith, “he will console you in your afflictions, … [and ye may] feast upon his love.”9 President Henry B. Eyring shared that his father’s prayers during a losing battle with cancer taught him the deeply personal relationship between God and His children:
“When the pain became intense, we found him in the morning on his knees by the bed. He had been too weak to get back into bed. He told us he had been praying to ask his Heavenly Father why he had to suffer so much when he had always tried to be good. He said a kindly answer came: ‘God needs brave sons.’
“And so he soldiered on to the end, trusting that God loved him, listened to him, and would lift him up. He was blessed to have known early and to never forget that a loving God is as close as a prayer.”10

“A lot of people wonder why I changed religions,” Kiruba says. “They say Hinduism is very nice, so why change?”
For Kiruba there is no question why she changed. The gospel has changed her life, and the lives of her family members, for the better.
“I had a special dream and knew we should join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” says Kiruba. “I told my granny about it, and she took my brother, sister, and me to church. We were baptized shortly after.”
Four months later, her parents were baptized, and the family has experienced the sweetness of the Spirit in their lives. It is a sweetness they are all willing to share with anyone who will listen.

The screen door slammed shut with a loud bang. Lindy trudged in, pulled a chair from the kitchen table, and plopped down.
“Hi, Punkin,” her mother said as she turned off the water in the sink. She pulled one of Lindy’s blonde pigtails and said, “Why the long face? I thought you couldn’t wait for school to be out. You can’t be tired of vacation already.”
Lindy sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “There’s nothing to do,” she said and sighed again.
Lindy’s mother smiled. “Why don’t you ride your bike? You and Julie always like to race to the end of the street.”
“Julie’s gone to her grandmother’s,” Lindy grumbled. “M-o-o-o-o-m,” she wailed, tugging on her mother’s apron. “What can I dooooo?”
“I know,” her mother said, snapping her fingers. “Why don’t you read the new book I got you yesterday?”
Lindy sat up straight and gave her mother a wide grin. Then she slumped back in her seat. “Aw, Mom, I read that yesterday.” She frowned and thumped the table with her fingers.
“I have just the thing,” Mother said, sitting down at the table with her. “How would you like to play a game—a game that can last all summer!”
Lindy giggled. “Mom, what game can last all summer?”
“I know one,” Mother said, handing Lindy a big red apple. “This one: Do something good for someone each day—something kind.”
Lindy took a big bite out of her apple. She turned questioning blue eyes on her mother. “Mom, are you sure that that will be fun? It doesn’t sound like a game to me.”
“It can be,” said Mother. “The fun part is that you mustn’t let the people know you did the things for them. You can’t let them see you, and you can’t tell them you did it. If you do, it doesn’t count.”
Lindy giggled. “They’ll think elves did it.” She got out of her chair and danced around the room. “I’ll be the secret elf of Goodman,” she said. Then she frowned. “OK, Mom, what can I do?”
Her mother laughed and got up to look out the window. “Well, Mrs. Parker doesn’t get around very well. Maybe you could do something for her.”
“I know! I know!” Lindy exclaimed, jumping up and down. “I can carry her paper from the sidewalk to her porch so it’ll be easier for her to get.”
She dashed to the door.
“Remember—she mustn’t see you,” her mother called after her.
Lindy ran to the big oak tree in the backyard and peered at Mrs. Parker’s house. She saw Mrs. Parker through the kitchen window, washing dishes.
Lindy clapped her hands and darted to the sidewalk in front of the house. She grabbed the folded newspaper and ran and dropped it next to the front door.
She just had time to scurry behind the shrubbery at the side of the house before the front door opened. Lindy bent a branch of the bush just the tiniest bit so that she could see Mrs. Parker.
“These old legs are not what they used to be,” Lindy heard Mrs. Parker mumble. Then Lindy heard a click as Mrs. Parker unlatched the screen.
“My, my! How did you get on the porch?” Mrs. Parker asked, bending to pick up the paper. She looked first up the street, then down the street.
Lindy clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her excited giggles.
“Somebody sure has been kind to me,” Mrs. Parker said, shaking her head. “My poor legs say thank you, whoever you are,” she called out. She shook her head again and went back inside.
Lindy smiled happily as she scampered back over into her yard and sat on her swing. While she swung slowly, she thought about what her next adventure would be. Gazing down the street, she saw papers and cans strewn all over Mr. Johnson’s yard.
“That’s it? She jumped out of the swing, ran to the house, tugged the screen door open, and ran in.
“Mom, I need a garbage bag quick. The dogs have made a mess of Mr. Johnson’s yard. Would you call him on the phone, please, and keep him talking so he won’t see me clean it up?”
Lindy dashed to the door, then stopped and turned to her mother. “And, Mom,” she said with a big grin, “it’s going to be a fun summer!”

But another day with my father shaped my life forever. He took me from New Jersey to the home of an ordained patriarch in Salt Lake City. I had never seen the man before. My father left me at the doorstep. The patriarch led me to a chair, placed his hands on my head, and pronounced a blessing as a gift from God that included a declaration of the great desire of my heart.
He said that I was one of those of whom it had been said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” [Matthew 5:9.] I was so surprised that a perfect stranger could know my heart that I opened my eyes to see the room where such a miracle was happening. That blessing of my possibilities has shaped my life, my marriage, and my priesthood service.

When I was 11, my Primary teacher in France gave me a Book of Mormon. We put a date on each page as a reading calendar. I started reading one page each day. But quickly I got so excited about my readings that I was ahead of schedule most of the time. Sometimes I read in the car when going to or from church or on vacation. I finished reading the Book of Mormon much sooner than was expected.
I felt like an expert on the battles between the Nephites and the Lamanites. My heroes were Mormon, Captain Moroni, Ammon, and the 2,000 stripling soldiers. I made drawings about the battles. I gained a testimony that the Book of Mormon is not just a story—it is a real history.
I started with the history, and then I added spiritual knowledge. The Holy Ghost testified to me that the Book of Mormon was written by prophets under the inspiration of God. That’s how I gained a testimony of Jesus Christ, the restored Church, and Joseph Smith. It all started with the Book of Mormon. I am grateful for my Primary teacher. Sometimes we don’t know what kind of seeds we plant, but over time we will see the beautiful trees and fruits that have grown.

Television production was not a path I had ever considered during my earlier education or even in my college years. Following graduation, my husband, Steve, and I moved to Los Angeles.

I still remember many of the difficulties of that first year. We were newlyweds with uncertain and unstable career paths living in a huge city far away from our families and friends. After a year of working uninspiring jobs to pay the bills, I felt stagnant. I prayed, pondered, and questioned often—and not without discouragement—whether we would ever “figure it out.”

Around this time I had a strong prompting to quit my job. We were barely scraping by in that big, expensive city. To quit without having something else lined up was terrifying to me. But the spiritual nudge was unmistakable. So I quit, not knowing what was next or how we would have enough money to pay our rent.

In the days and weeks that followed, I prayed often and searched for direction—and jobs—until one day a relative offered to introduce me to their childhood friend who was an executive at a television production company. So many beautiful blessings have come into my life because of that first meeting with Debby. She continues to be an incredible mentor and dear friend. She is a woman of faith who has blessed me and my family. Debby and I have reminisced often about the perfect and inspired timing of that first meeting. The window in which I could have been hired was so small! Debby took me under her wing and taught me so much. I know that it was through the Spirit that we were put into each other’s lives. That leap of faith to quit my job was the catalyst for years of experiences, friendships, joys, and lifelong learning. I am so grateful that I chose to listen.

A few months ago, my elders quorum president entrusted me with the responsibility of training a newly ordained 14-year-old teacher in my ward on how to minister. I was proud to be able to teach him everything I had learned in all my many years of service, but it was in fact he who taught me that day!
During this period, I was a little overwhelmed by my responsibilities and it took me a few weeks before I began serving alongside him. Eventually, I made an appointment with the family we wanted to minister to. As we made our way to the family’s home, I seized the opportunity to tell him everything I knew about our responsibilities as priesthood holders. While we were chatting with this family, the mother turned to my young ministering companion and said, “thank you so much for taking care of us these last few weeks, you called us three times to find out how we were doing and today you made us a cake.” I was stunned! My companion had not waited for me to tell him or show him what to do, he simply began to serve. He had acted on his own, out of love for this family, and followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit. He showed me that age is not a barrier to service.
That day he taught me as the Saviour taught, to do with his heart and out of love, without boasting of anything; to do rather than to say.

“My, but this boat is slow!” Sarah Thomas complained as the paddle steamer inched its way up the Mississippi River. She was sure the boat was standing still and that the trees were floating past! Even time seemed to stand still that warm day.
Sarah’s mind began to wander. She thought about the day in England a few years before, when a neighbor came knocking at their door. “There be a new preacher in town,” he announced. “Come and listen to him. Everyone’s meeting at the tithing barn.”
“I have a harness to mend,” her father answered without looking up. “It won’t mend itself.”
“His name is Heber Kimball, and he be from the Americas!” the neighbor added excitedly. “They say that he be a great preacher. He preaches about a new religion! The people of Preston really liked him.”
“Well, now,” Sarah’s father said thoughtfully. “An American preacher. I wonder if American preachers have a better tale to tell than British ones. Not a one that I’ve ever listened to preached the truth.” He stitched the leather absentmindedly. A new religion, he thought. I guess I’ll give him a chance.
As the neighbor hurried on his way to spread the word, the Thomas family prepared for the meeting. They didn’t have any other clothes to change into, but they washed themselves and brushed the clothes that they were wearing. Sarah brushed and rebraided her hair.
When they got to the busy town, some of their neighbors were hurrying to the tithing barn. Some of those who had already arrived at the meeting place were caring for their horses; others stood around talking and laughing. They were all eager for the American preacher to arrive.
The people of Chatburn liked to listen to preachers. But after the preachers moved on, it was as though the towns-people were still hungry for something that they didn’t have—the truth. No one in Chatburn had ever joined any of the churches that sent missionaries to their town.
When the American preacher walked into the town square, the people eagerly surrounded him. After they had crowded into the barn, there were so many of them that the preacher had to stand on top of a barrel to speak.
Sarah, who was used to hearing preachers, listened only halfheartedly when he began to talk. They all preach the same thing, she thought. But soon Elder Kimball’s message began to pierce her mind. He was preaching of a Savior who not only came to earth and was crucified but lived still. Elder Kimball bore such a powerful testimony of the living Savior that Sarah began to feel a warm glow, and she could tell that people around her were feeling the same thing. She strained to catch every word. Elder Kimball taught them that everyone must first have faith in Jesus Christ. Then they must repent and be baptized.
“This is it!” Sarah said to herself. “He speaks the truth!”
After the meeting, the people surged around Elder Kimball. Mrs. Partinton tugged on his sleeve. “Please, I want to be baptized!” Soon others were also asking to be baptized.
Sarah wanted desperately to add her own request for baptism, but she couldn’t be heard from the back. As she waited for her chance, the crowd flowed out the doors and down to the river. Following them, she watched as Elder Kimball baptized several people.
Her father found her in the crowd. “Come, Sarah,” he said. “It’s time to get the wee ones home.” Baby Josiah was asleep in her mother’s arms, and Timothy was crying softly as he leaned against her father. Sarah knew that she must obey, so she followed them. As they walked, she became very sleepy. It was a struggle to walk and to listen to her parents.
“I want to be baptized, Joshua,” her mother said softly. “He’s brought Christ’s true church to us.”
She heard her father chuckle softly. “Yes, he has.”
“What’s funny?” Mother asked.
“I was just thinking of all those other preachers who have come to Chatburn,” her father answered. “Not a one of us would join with them. They think that we are wild and hard-hearted. If they could only see us now! This one man has changed everything.”
“Father,” Sarah said sleepily, “I want to be baptized. May I?”
“Yes. Brother Kimball is leaving for Clitheroe tonight, but he’ll be back. We’ll be baptized when he comes again.”
The next few days were very long for Sarah. She did everything that she could think of to make the time go faster. One morning, when she was returning from taking a basket of scones to Mrs. Root, who was sick, she saw Elder Kimball on the path to town. She ran the rest of the way home to tell her family. In a short time, they were back in town, ready for a meeting. This time so many people had gathered that they met outside. Elder Kimball stood on a stone wall and preached to the people, and it was just as before. Sarah felt the Holy Ghost tell her that he spoke the truth.
Sarah and her parents were baptized that night. What a good feeling it was to know that they were all members of Christ’s true church. She felt clean and right.
Things changed in Chatburn after that. Parents began to teach their children what Elder Kimball had taught them. The children listened to their parents and obeyed Christ’s commandments. A new happiness and peace filled the village.
A few weeks later the man they now called Brother Kimball returned to their village. The children saw him on the path and, singing the songs of Zion, raced to meet him. They grabbed his arms and held on to his coat. Their parents stood in the doors of their homes as the group passed; they called out blessings on the man who had changed their lives.
What a wonderful time it was for Sarah! Brother Kimball continued to teach them. She learned more about the Prophet Joseph Smith, through whom the Lord restored the true church, and she felt a strong desire to see a living prophet.
Soon the word was spread throughout England: “The Saints are gathering in Nauvoo. Come to Nauvoo!”
“Nauvoo!” The cry jerked Sarah back to the present. The boat was rounding a curve, and now she could see people and buildings.
The Saints pressed eagerly against the rail of the boat as they searched for a glimpse of their new home. Sarah was searching, too, searching for someone very special. She wanted to see the Prophet. She had heard that sometimes he met new arrivals at the dock. Will I know him when I see him? she wondered.
As the boat neared the dock, she could distinguish faces. Her eyes stopped on a tall man who stood out above the rest. He had light brown hair and piercing blue eyes that had a twinkle in them. She knew without anyone telling her. He was the Prophet. Her wish had been answered. She was a member of Christ’s true church, and now she had seen His Prophet. Bless Brother Kimball!

When my husband was serving his mission in Switzerland, he and his companion felt like they should walk down a road they hadn’t tried before and saw a lady sitting on a bench. They didn’t know yet, but she had been baptised when she was around 20 years old and had left the church not long after. A few years later she had a son, who was now 9 years old. While she was waiting for him to come out of school that day she had started thinking about the church. She remembered the missionaries and the songs she used to sing. She looked up the church and found a video about missionaries on her phone and was watching that video when she looked up and saw two missionaries were standing there. She realised an unspoken prayer had been answered.

Betsy King Duzette waded into the frigid water of the Mississippi River. The 58-year-old widow and convert from Connecticut was then baptized for her uncles, mother-in-law, and her husband’s stepfather.
The Prophet Joseph Smith had recently taught the Saints, in August 1840, about the doctrine of baptism for the dead. In their excitement, they performed baptisms in the river, since the Nauvoo Temple was not completed. Women were baptized for men and men for women. Soon, however, the Lord revealed to Joseph Smith that baptisms for deceased ancestors must be done in dedicated temples (see Doctrine and Covenants 124:28–35). And in 1845, Brigham Young announced that women should be baptized for women and men for men.
Betsy’s husband, Philemon Duzette, had died six years earlier. She braved the chilly waters to be baptized for his deceased relatives as well as her own. That included baptism for Philemon’s stepfather, Jesse Peas, who died 50 years earlier when Betsy was a young girl. She may never have met him but likely knew of him and knew his name and his relationship to Philemon and his mother, Martha Wing. Betsy had known Martha when she was alive.
Betsy was baptized as proxy for Jesse almost immediately following the revelations on baptism for the dead. And she and her husband named one of their children after Jesse. Philemon’s biological father, also named Philemon, died when he was an infant, and Jesse Peas became his stepfather when Philemon was three and helped Martha raise him.
Just as Betsy King Duzette believed and trusted when she waded into the Mississippi River on behalf of her stepfather-in-law, we, all of us, can be connected, sealed, bound, and welded together eternally.

That was when the first miracle happened. It started with one young man who had a strong desire to be closer to Jesus Christ and be baptized, and he shared it with a friend, and they shared it with another friend. These three young men were the start of the new growth in this area of the Lord’s vineyard. But the elders knew they needed families to lay a solid foundation and establish the Church in Guaymate, so they fasted and prayed to be led to a family ready to learn about the gospel.
One day they felt impressed to go to the farthest part of the town, out along the edges of the sugarcane fields. As they walked down the street, they saw two men sitting on their porch, and they stopped to talk with them. This was the first time they met Julian and his son, Victor. Julian immediately invited them in to have some yuca with butter and listened to the message they had to share. He was interested and asked them to come back and teach him more.
The following day the elders were in the town center doing street contacting when they met Carmen, Julian’s partner. As they started talking with her, they learned that Julian had told her all about what he had learned the day before. The elders returned that afternoon and taught Julian and Carmen how families were part of God’s plan. They learned that the couple had been together for over 30 years, with children and grandchildren, but had never gotten married. The elders asked what they thought about getting married. At first, Carmen was eager, and Julian was hesitant. Two weeks later, when they were married, he was emotional about finally being married to the woman of his dreams.
We met Julian and Carmen a few months after they were baptized when we visited their home with President Chaverri and the same missionaries who had taught and baptized them. We sat on their front porch, listening to their amazing conversion story as the rain sprinkled around us.
The Spirit was strong as Julian retold his story. Shortly before their baptism, Julian told the elders about a dream he had the night before that first day they met. In his dream, two young men in white shirts walked down his street. When they passed his house, he went out to invite them in and fed them yuca. He thought the dream strange but forgot about it until he saw these young men in their white shirts walking down his street just as they had in his dream. As he learned about the gospel of Jesus Christ, he knew the dream was a significant sign from God, and he felt grateful he had followed the prompting to invite them in for yuca.
Today, Julian, Carmen, and their family are part of the new Guaymate group that is meeting in an apartment below where the elders live. This little group is evidence that the Lord is involved in the details of all our lives. He loves us and wants us to make eternal covenants with Him.