During a recent assignment to Peru, I visited the humble home of Brother and Sister Morales. It was filled with love. They are the parents of three children and have been members of the Church for four years. Sister Morales has learned much in Relief Society. To help provide for their family and their missionary son, she took in washing and ironing. She helped with two children of a neighbor who had to leave home to work. She supported her husband, who is struggling with kidney failure and was serving in the elders quorum. They discussed the Heber J. Grant lessons together in preparation for his teaching the lesson.
I asked her, “Are you a visiting teacher?” With a smile on her face she responded, “Oh, yes, Sister Parkin. I visit four sisters. Two are less active, but I will love them back.”
Leaving their home, I noticed a hand-drawn sign above the door. It asked, “Did you read your scriptures today?” Relief Society is blessing this home, this ward, this neighborhood. How has it blessed you?
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How Has Relief Society Blessed Your Life?
Summary: On a visit in Peru, the author met Brother and Sister Morales, recent converts raising three children. Sister Morales applied what she learned in Relief Society by working to support the family, helping a neighbor’s children, supporting her ill husband in his calling, and serving as a visiting teacher to four sisters, two of whom were less active. Their home reflected love and gospel habits.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Church Members (General)
Adversity
Charity
Employment
Family
Health
Ministering
Relief Society
Scriptures
Service
Courage Counts
Summary: While in the U.S. Navy during World War II, Thomas S. Monson observed an eighteen-year-old seaman of another faith kneel in prayer nightly. He did so despite the jeers and jests of others in the barracks. The seaman never wavered in his practice.
Entering the United States Navy in the closing months of World War II was a challenging experience for me. I learned of brave deeds, acts of valor, and examples of courage. One best remembered was the quiet courage of an eighteen-year-old seaman—not of our faith—who was not too proud to pray. Of 250 men in the company, he was the only one who each night knelt down by the side of his bunk, at times amidst the jeers of the curious and the jests of unbelievers, and, with bowed head, prayed to God. He never wavered. He never faltered. He had courage.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Young Adults
👤 Other
Courage
Faith
Prayer
Reverence
War
A Word of Wisdom
Summary: The narrator became overwhelmed by work, neglecting sleep and meals, and prayed for help. They received a prompting to 'Keep the Word of Wisdom,' which initially puzzled them. Realizing they had been neglecting basic self-care, they began eating regularly, sleeping earlier, and exercising. These changes restored a sense of control and reduced their worries.
In an effort to accomplish all of my goals, I found myself overwhelmed with worldly pressures, decisions, and cares. I was staying up late and missing meals, working for many hours at a time. All of these things were taking their toll on my emotional well-being. I felt frustrated and unable to handle my problems.
I prayed, hoping to receive an assurance that all would be well. Instead, I heard the still, small voice say, “Keep the Word of Wisdom.” I felt puzzled and disappointed. I didn’t smoke or drink alcoholic beverages, and I had never drunk coffee or tea. How could the counsel to keep the Word of Wisdom apply to me?
I thought about the many times my friends had mentioned feeling discouraged and unequal to their tasks. Most of them had risen above those feelings and had carried on with their lives. But among those who usually felt inadequate, the common problem seemed to be their priorities—they put themselves last on their own lists. They never took time for regular meals, and they rarely got to bed before midnight. Reluctantly, I admitted that I was making the same mistakes and that I needed to change.
First, I stopped thinking about things that weren’t necessary and concentrated on the things that really matter. I worked on getting up early so I would be sleepy early. I ate nourishing food, and I exercised—consistently! As I developed these habits, I was able to plan better, and I began to feel in control of my life. Many of my previous worries now seemed unimportant, and I was free to direct my thoughts and feelings to other things.
I prayed, hoping to receive an assurance that all would be well. Instead, I heard the still, small voice say, “Keep the Word of Wisdom.” I felt puzzled and disappointed. I didn’t smoke or drink alcoholic beverages, and I had never drunk coffee or tea. How could the counsel to keep the Word of Wisdom apply to me?
I thought about the many times my friends had mentioned feeling discouraged and unequal to their tasks. Most of them had risen above those feelings and had carried on with their lives. But among those who usually felt inadequate, the common problem seemed to be their priorities—they put themselves last on their own lists. They never took time for regular meals, and they rarely got to bed before midnight. Reluctantly, I admitted that I was making the same mistakes and that I needed to change.
First, I stopped thinking about things that weren’t necessary and concentrated on the things that really matter. I worked on getting up early so I would be sleepy early. I ate nourishing food, and I exercised—consistently! As I developed these habits, I was able to plan better, and I began to feel in control of my life. Many of my previous worries now seemed unimportant, and I was free to direct my thoughts and feelings to other things.
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👤 Other
Health
Holy Ghost
Mental Health
Obedience
Prayer
Revelation
Word of Wisdom
Healing Hands
Summary: A 17-year-old felt an urgent prompting to go downstairs early one Saturday. She found her mother had miscarried, so she comforted her by massaging her shoulders and feet and felt peace. Her mother said she had 'healing hands,' teaching the youth that simple, Spirit-led acts can minister to others.
I woke up really early one Saturday, which was weird—I usually sleep in. But I felt an urgent prompting to walk downstairs, like I was being led.
My mom was alone downstairs. I found out that she’d suffered a miscarriage that morning, so I cried with her and massaged her shoulders and feet. Despite the sadness, I felt at peace. All my thoughts were quiet, and I felt calm and comforted.
My mom told me I must have healing hands, because the massage made her really happy and peaceful. I was so thankful that I was able to comfort her and learn how it feels to be led by the Spirit.
This experience taught me that I don’t need to do extraordinary things to minister to others. I just need to let go of my pride and worries and focus on God’s love, and He’ll use me to be His hands and bring His light to other people.
My mom was alone downstairs. I found out that she’d suffered a miscarriage that morning, so I cried with her and massaged her shoulders and feet. Despite the sadness, I felt at peace. All my thoughts were quiet, and I felt calm and comforted.
My mom told me I must have healing hands, because the massage made her really happy and peaceful. I was so thankful that I was able to comfort her and learn how it feels to be led by the Spirit.
This experience taught me that I don’t need to do extraordinary things to minister to others. I just need to let go of my pride and worries and focus on God’s love, and He’ll use me to be His hands and bring His light to other people.
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👤 Parents
👤 Youth
Family
Grief
Holy Ghost
Humility
Love
Ministering
Service
“May Christ Lift Thee Up”
Summary: After his father leaves and a difficult move, Jared feels hopeless about Christmas. On Christmas Eve he refuses to go caroling, but his mother comforts him and teaches from the Book of Mormon about Christ lifting us and succoring our infirmities. They pray, decide to take leftover doughnuts to a homeless shelter, and join in singing. Jared feels Christ’s help, serves others, and ends the night hopeful, even receiving an invitation to go ice fishing.
Jared watched the sun drop lower and lower, until it was just at the treetops. It was the first day of Christmas vacation. “Some vacation!” he muttered. He’d been alone all day with nothing to do. Oh, he’d gone for a walk, but all he’d found were scruffy storefronts and a few little kids with shabby coats playing in piles of dirty snow.
Since his dad had left them, Jared’s life had changed a lot. There wasn’t enough money to live in the house he’d grown up in, and they’d had to move to a big city so his mom could find a job.
His new home was in an old apartment building. From his point of view, everything was awful. They went to church in an old warehouse, with only about thirty other people. Their whole Primary had fifteen kids, and most of them were little. How could you have any fun being a Cub Scout all by yourself? His hometown had been small, but at least it had had a real ward.
School wasn’t any better. The building was as run-down as his apartment. The kids were loud and rough and made a point of avoiding him. He hadn’t found a friend yet, although he’d really tried to be friendly. And he was the only Church member in the whole school.
He leaned his head against the cold window glass, watching for his mom’s little green car, hoping that she’d come soon with something warm and good for dinner. She was always so late and so tired from work that they usually ended up eating canned soup and sandwiches. He’d help her clean up, then they’d read scriptures and have prayer together. He always felt better after that, when he went to bed. Mom was always tired these days, but it was a physical sort of tiredness. In spite of it, she had a kind of peace about her that gave him peace, too.
The trouble was, when he left for school in the mornings, that peace usually slipped away and he felt that there just was nothing to look forward to here. And now, Christmas. Jared hadn’t talked about it, but he was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be one for them. How could they afford anything? Mom had had to spend any extra money on uniforms for work and on tuition for the computer course she was taking two nights a week so that she could get a better job. Jared had decided to keep quiet about Christmas.
When two headlights blazed across the window, Jared threw his arm up to shield his eyes. The lights went out. He heard his mother’s hurried footsteps, then her key in the lock.
“Hi, honey,” she said, reaching to give him a hug. “How was your day? Did you have some fun?”
“Sure, Mom,” he murmured, turning his head so that she wouldn’t see his frown.
“Well, I brought us home a treat!” She was carrying a plastic grocery bag with a box bulging in it. Jared felt a spark of interest.
“What’s in the box?” he asked as she set it on the little table.
“Dessert. It was even free. My boss said I could take the doughnuts we didn’t sell. Since this is Christmas Eve, we can’t sell them even as day-old stock when we open again on Saturday. I just brought a couple for each of us since we’ll be having holiday treats tomorrow. So set the table now, and we’ll get tonight’s feast going.”
Wow! Jared thought, his mouth curling into a sarcastic scowl. Stale doughnuts—yippee! But he didn’t say anything as he set the table. Soup bowls, of course. And the plates for the sandwiches would do for the doughnuts, too. Then they wouldn’t have to wash more dishes.
Mom seemed full of energy tonight, for a change, chatting away about her day. It only made Jared’s dark mood darker. As they finished eating, more headlights swept across the ceiling, and then there was a knock at the door.
“Sister Holdrup, hi.”
There stood Brother Eldridge, their home teacher. What does he want? Jared wondered.
“Some of us are going to sing Christmas carols at a homeless shelter. We need extra voices. Can you join us?”
“That sounds like fun,” Mom said. “Come on, Jared, let’s go. We can wash the dishes later.”
“No,” Jared said. “I don’t want to.” That’s all I need, he thought—singing stupid Christmas carols at a stupid homeless shelter.
“But, Jared—”
“No!” Jared shouted. “I’m not going!” He ran into his room and slammed the door.
As he threw himself down on the bed, he heard his mother apologizing to Brother Eldridge for his behavior.
“It’s OK,” Brother Eldridge told her. “If you change your mind, here’s the address. We’ll be singing in about an hour.”
Jared covered his ears. Can’t she see how awful everything is? Can’t she see that there’s nothing to be happy about, especially Christmas?
There was a soft knock on the door. Jared ignored it.
“Jared, may I come in? I want to talk to you.”
He relented a little, hearing the sorrow in her voice. “OK,” he said, but he put his arm across his eyes.
“Jared, I know things aren’t easy for you. I know how you must miss your friends.”
And the park. And having someplace to ride my bike. And Cub Scout day camp. And … and even Dad. Especially Dad. Then the hot anger came up again, and tears began seeping from his eyes. “Why did Dad have to leave us, Mom? What did I do to make him leave?” Choking sobs stopped Jared’s questions.
Tears flowed from his mother’s eyes, too, as she gathered him into her arms. “I don’t know exactly why he left, Jared, but I do know this: It had nothing to do with you—not who you are or anything you did. He left because of things inside him. He thought he could solve his problems by leaving.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“I don’t know. But I think that when you are very unhappy, like Dad was, it makes it harder when you choose to look for happiness by running away. I think it’s better if you face your troubles and solve them. One thing I’ve learned from moving here is that you have to decide to be happy where you are, no matter what. Then nothing can make you unhappy, because you’re happy from the inside out.”
Jared was still for a long time, while his mom held him tight and rocked him. Then he said, “How do you get happy like that, Mom?”
“Jared, a few nights ago we read something that Mormon wrote to Moroni about what to do when things were awfully bad. Do you remember what he said?”
Jared shook his head. “But I want to know. I really need some help right now, Mom, because everything’s just awful!” He got up and got his Book of Mormon from the shelf.
“It’s in Moroni, chapter 9, verse 25. Can you find it?”
“Here.” He began to read: “‘My son, be faithful in Christ; and may not the things which I have written grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up. …’”
“Do you understand any of that, Jared?”
“A little. Things must have been pretty awful if Mormon was worried that Moroni would feel so bad that he’d die.”
Mom nodded. “What about you, Jared?”
“I’ve thought about running away.”
“I’m glad that you didn’t. But I don’t want you to go on feeling awful. Mormon didn’t want Moroni to suffer, either. What did he tell his son to do?”
“To be faithful in Christ. But what does that mean, exactly?”
“What do you think?”
“Pray every morning and night?” Jared guessed. Mom nodded. “And read the scriptures every day?”
Mom nodded again. “Those are two of the most important things. But Mormon tells Moroni something else. See, here, where he says ‘may Christ lift thee up’? How can Jesus do that for you?”
“I don’t know. Joseph didn’t leave Jesus’ mom, so how can He help me?”
“Well, He understands how you feel, and what to do about it. Alma explains that in Alma, chapter 7, verse 11: ‘And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.’ Jesus Christ took on Himself pains of every kind, Jared—your kind of pains, too.”
“Why did He do that?”
“Let’s read the next verse: ‘And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.’ Do you know what infirmities are?”
“At Cub Scout camp, there was an infirmary. That’s where you went if you got hurt or sick. Is it like that?”
“Yes, it is. And what does it say Jesus can do when we are hurt or sick?”
“It says He knows how to succor us according to our infirmities. Is that sort of to be like a doctor to us?”
“Even better than a doctor. Because He has suffered every pain and every bad thing and has overcome them all, He knows how to comfort us, heal us, and show us how to be happy, no matter what.”
“Then He knows how to help me.” Jared sat up straight. “Mom, Dad didn’t understand this about Jesus, did he? If he had, he wouldn’t have left. He could have stayed and found out how to get happy again.”
“I don’t know, Jared. Maybe so. I just don’t know.”
“I’m sorry for Dad, but maybe we can ask Heavenly Father to help him learn. Can we do that, Mom? Right now?”
“Yes, Jared. That is a very good thing to do, for all of us.”
They knelt beside Jared’s bed, and Jared prayed like he had never prayed before, asking that he and his mom could feel Jesus Christ helping them with their problems, and that his dad could learn how to be happy, too.
“Mom,” Jared asked as they got up, “is it too late to go sing with Brother Eldridge?”
Mom looked at her watch. “No, we have half an hour before they sing.”
“Do we have time to go to your bakery and get all the leftover doughnuts? Are there very many? I bet those people at the shelter don’t get good doughnuts very often.” Excitement was beginning to trickle through him.
His excitement grew as they filled boxes and loaded the car. The singing was beautiful, and Jared felt better than he had since before Dad left.
Brother Eldridge had his arm across Jared’s shoulders as they walked out of the shelter. “Say, Jared,” he said. “I go ice fishing every year between Christmas and New Year’s. Could I talk you into coming with me?”
“Wow!” This time Jared meant it sincerely. “Thanks! I’d really like that.”
On the way home, Jared was quiet.
“Are you OK?” Mom asked.
Jared nodded. “I’m better than OK, Mom. I think Christ has lifted me up and has ‘succored my infirmities.’ I’m happy!”
Since his dad had left them, Jared’s life had changed a lot. There wasn’t enough money to live in the house he’d grown up in, and they’d had to move to a big city so his mom could find a job.
His new home was in an old apartment building. From his point of view, everything was awful. They went to church in an old warehouse, with only about thirty other people. Their whole Primary had fifteen kids, and most of them were little. How could you have any fun being a Cub Scout all by yourself? His hometown had been small, but at least it had had a real ward.
School wasn’t any better. The building was as run-down as his apartment. The kids were loud and rough and made a point of avoiding him. He hadn’t found a friend yet, although he’d really tried to be friendly. And he was the only Church member in the whole school.
He leaned his head against the cold window glass, watching for his mom’s little green car, hoping that she’d come soon with something warm and good for dinner. She was always so late and so tired from work that they usually ended up eating canned soup and sandwiches. He’d help her clean up, then they’d read scriptures and have prayer together. He always felt better after that, when he went to bed. Mom was always tired these days, but it was a physical sort of tiredness. In spite of it, she had a kind of peace about her that gave him peace, too.
The trouble was, when he left for school in the mornings, that peace usually slipped away and he felt that there just was nothing to look forward to here. And now, Christmas. Jared hadn’t talked about it, but he was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be one for them. How could they afford anything? Mom had had to spend any extra money on uniforms for work and on tuition for the computer course she was taking two nights a week so that she could get a better job. Jared had decided to keep quiet about Christmas.
When two headlights blazed across the window, Jared threw his arm up to shield his eyes. The lights went out. He heard his mother’s hurried footsteps, then her key in the lock.
“Hi, honey,” she said, reaching to give him a hug. “How was your day? Did you have some fun?”
“Sure, Mom,” he murmured, turning his head so that she wouldn’t see his frown.
“Well, I brought us home a treat!” She was carrying a plastic grocery bag with a box bulging in it. Jared felt a spark of interest.
“What’s in the box?” he asked as she set it on the little table.
“Dessert. It was even free. My boss said I could take the doughnuts we didn’t sell. Since this is Christmas Eve, we can’t sell them even as day-old stock when we open again on Saturday. I just brought a couple for each of us since we’ll be having holiday treats tomorrow. So set the table now, and we’ll get tonight’s feast going.”
Wow! Jared thought, his mouth curling into a sarcastic scowl. Stale doughnuts—yippee! But he didn’t say anything as he set the table. Soup bowls, of course. And the plates for the sandwiches would do for the doughnuts, too. Then they wouldn’t have to wash more dishes.
Mom seemed full of energy tonight, for a change, chatting away about her day. It only made Jared’s dark mood darker. As they finished eating, more headlights swept across the ceiling, and then there was a knock at the door.
“Sister Holdrup, hi.”
There stood Brother Eldridge, their home teacher. What does he want? Jared wondered.
“Some of us are going to sing Christmas carols at a homeless shelter. We need extra voices. Can you join us?”
“That sounds like fun,” Mom said. “Come on, Jared, let’s go. We can wash the dishes later.”
“No,” Jared said. “I don’t want to.” That’s all I need, he thought—singing stupid Christmas carols at a stupid homeless shelter.
“But, Jared—”
“No!” Jared shouted. “I’m not going!” He ran into his room and slammed the door.
As he threw himself down on the bed, he heard his mother apologizing to Brother Eldridge for his behavior.
“It’s OK,” Brother Eldridge told her. “If you change your mind, here’s the address. We’ll be singing in about an hour.”
Jared covered his ears. Can’t she see how awful everything is? Can’t she see that there’s nothing to be happy about, especially Christmas?
There was a soft knock on the door. Jared ignored it.
“Jared, may I come in? I want to talk to you.”
He relented a little, hearing the sorrow in her voice. “OK,” he said, but he put his arm across his eyes.
“Jared, I know things aren’t easy for you. I know how you must miss your friends.”
And the park. And having someplace to ride my bike. And Cub Scout day camp. And … and even Dad. Especially Dad. Then the hot anger came up again, and tears began seeping from his eyes. “Why did Dad have to leave us, Mom? What did I do to make him leave?” Choking sobs stopped Jared’s questions.
Tears flowed from his mother’s eyes, too, as she gathered him into her arms. “I don’t know exactly why he left, Jared, but I do know this: It had nothing to do with you—not who you are or anything you did. He left because of things inside him. He thought he could solve his problems by leaving.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“I don’t know. But I think that when you are very unhappy, like Dad was, it makes it harder when you choose to look for happiness by running away. I think it’s better if you face your troubles and solve them. One thing I’ve learned from moving here is that you have to decide to be happy where you are, no matter what. Then nothing can make you unhappy, because you’re happy from the inside out.”
Jared was still for a long time, while his mom held him tight and rocked him. Then he said, “How do you get happy like that, Mom?”
“Jared, a few nights ago we read something that Mormon wrote to Moroni about what to do when things were awfully bad. Do you remember what he said?”
Jared shook his head. “But I want to know. I really need some help right now, Mom, because everything’s just awful!” He got up and got his Book of Mormon from the shelf.
“It’s in Moroni, chapter 9, verse 25. Can you find it?”
“Here.” He began to read: “‘My son, be faithful in Christ; and may not the things which I have written grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up. …’”
“Do you understand any of that, Jared?”
“A little. Things must have been pretty awful if Mormon was worried that Moroni would feel so bad that he’d die.”
Mom nodded. “What about you, Jared?”
“I’ve thought about running away.”
“I’m glad that you didn’t. But I don’t want you to go on feeling awful. Mormon didn’t want Moroni to suffer, either. What did he tell his son to do?”
“To be faithful in Christ. But what does that mean, exactly?”
“What do you think?”
“Pray every morning and night?” Jared guessed. Mom nodded. “And read the scriptures every day?”
Mom nodded again. “Those are two of the most important things. But Mormon tells Moroni something else. See, here, where he says ‘may Christ lift thee up’? How can Jesus do that for you?”
“I don’t know. Joseph didn’t leave Jesus’ mom, so how can He help me?”
“Well, He understands how you feel, and what to do about it. Alma explains that in Alma, chapter 7, verse 11: ‘And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.’ Jesus Christ took on Himself pains of every kind, Jared—your kind of pains, too.”
“Why did He do that?”
“Let’s read the next verse: ‘And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.’ Do you know what infirmities are?”
“At Cub Scout camp, there was an infirmary. That’s where you went if you got hurt or sick. Is it like that?”
“Yes, it is. And what does it say Jesus can do when we are hurt or sick?”
“It says He knows how to succor us according to our infirmities. Is that sort of to be like a doctor to us?”
“Even better than a doctor. Because He has suffered every pain and every bad thing and has overcome them all, He knows how to comfort us, heal us, and show us how to be happy, no matter what.”
“Then He knows how to help me.” Jared sat up straight. “Mom, Dad didn’t understand this about Jesus, did he? If he had, he wouldn’t have left. He could have stayed and found out how to get happy again.”
“I don’t know, Jared. Maybe so. I just don’t know.”
“I’m sorry for Dad, but maybe we can ask Heavenly Father to help him learn. Can we do that, Mom? Right now?”
“Yes, Jared. That is a very good thing to do, for all of us.”
They knelt beside Jared’s bed, and Jared prayed like he had never prayed before, asking that he and his mom could feel Jesus Christ helping them with their problems, and that his dad could learn how to be happy, too.
“Mom,” Jared asked as they got up, “is it too late to go sing with Brother Eldridge?”
Mom looked at her watch. “No, we have half an hour before they sing.”
“Do we have time to go to your bakery and get all the leftover doughnuts? Are there very many? I bet those people at the shelter don’t get good doughnuts very often.” Excitement was beginning to trickle through him.
His excitement grew as they filled boxes and loaded the car. The singing was beautiful, and Jared felt better than he had since before Dad left.
Brother Eldridge had his arm across Jared’s shoulders as they walked out of the shelter. “Say, Jared,” he said. “I go ice fishing every year between Christmas and New Year’s. Could I talk you into coming with me?”
“Wow!” This time Jared meant it sincerely. “Thanks! I’d really like that.”
On the way home, Jared was quiet.
“Are you OK?” Mom asked.
Jared nodded. “I’m better than OK, Mom. I think Christ has lifted me up and has ‘succored my infirmities.’ I’m happy!”
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Church Members (General)
Adversity
Book of Mormon
Jesus Christ
Prayer
Service
Single-Parent Families
Teaching Helps Save Lives
Summary: President Thomas S. Monson recounted how his Sunday School teacher, Lucy Gertsch, invited the class to give their party fund to a classmate’s family after the mother passed away. He said this inspired invitation opened their eyes, ears, and hearts to God, exemplifying teaching that moves learners to act.
President Thomas S. Monson tells of a Sunday School teacher from his youth, Lucy Gertsch. One Sunday, partway through a lesson about selfless service, Sister Gertsch invited her students to give their class party fund to the family of one of their classmates whose mother had passed away. President Monson said that in giving that invitation to action, Sister Gertsch had “closed the manual and opened our eyes and our ears and our hearts to the glory of God” (“Examples of Great Teachers” [worldwide leadership training meeting, Feb. 10, 2007], Liahona, June 2007, 76; Ensign, June 2007, 108). Sister Gertsch had clearly used the manual to prepare her lesson, but when inspiration came, she closed the manual and invited her students to live the gospel principle she was teaching.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Youth
Charity
Holy Ghost
Service
Teaching the Gospel
Elf Patrol
Summary: After their mother leaves and the house is messy, four-year-old Benjamin wishes for an elf to help. He secretly cleans his room, and his older brothers join in as 'elves' to clean the entire house before their mom returns. They leave a note from the 'elf patrol' and enjoy continuing to serve secretly whenever the house gets messy.
One day my four-year-old brother, Benjamin, wished for an elf to come and rescue us. It all happened on a spring holiday from school when Mom came rushing back from her Relief Society presidency meeting and gasped, “Boys, this place looks terrible! What happened?”
Nothing had happened. We’d just been awake and playing for a couple of hours and hadn’t bothered to clean up after ourselves. When five boys live in a house for two hours, things get kind of messy. We weren’t always sloppy at home. Sometimes we’d clean things up if Mom or Dad asked us to. And we usually grumbled and groaned a bit because keeping things tidy and clean wasn’t our favorite thing to do.
“I didn’t think you were supposed to be back for a long time,” Aaron said.
“I forgot some things,” Mom answered. “I have to go right back. Can’t you boys do something about this house? It looks like a tornado blew through it.”
“But, Mom,” Jared groaned, “it’s a holiday. Nobody wants to work on a holiday.”
She didn’t say anything more. She just found what she was looking for and rushed out the door again.
I looked around. Things did look pretty messy: There were clothes and toys scattered about. Ammaron had emptied all the books from the two bottom shelves, and no one had cleared the breakfast dishes from the table or swept the kitchen floor. Our bedrooms were even worse—clothes everywhere, beds unmade, toys piled on the dressers.
“Do you know what I wish?” Benjamin asked. “I wish we owned an elf.”
“An elf? What would we do with an elf?” I asked.
Benjamin’s grin grew wider, and his dark brown eyes sparkled. “I’d make him work. Then Mom wouldn’t have to.”
“If you find one, Benjy,” Aaron said with a grin, “Alma and I could sure use him in our room. Maybe we could even get him to rake the lawn and plant the garden.”
Benjamin frowned at Aaron’s teasing and stamped his foot. “I am going to find an elf. I don’t want Mom to be sad any more.” He stood up and left the room.
I forgot about the messy house and Benjamin’s elf until he bounced back into the family room a while later and announced loudly, “An elf came!”
The rest of us turned away from the TV and stared at Benjamin, who stood grinning and beaming.
“What are you talking about?” Aaron asked.
Benjamin stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth. “A secret elf came to Jared and my room. It’s clean. Mom will sure be happy when she sees what my elf did.”
Well, we’d never had an elf at our house. We didn’t really believe that Benjamin had found one now, but he had raised our curiosity enough that we left the TV and followed him down the hall.
The place was clean. At least there were no toys, blankets, or clothes scattered about. The bedspreads were a little lumpy, but the beds were made. The room looked a lot better than I had remembered it looking that morning.
“How do you know an elf did it?” Jared questioned Benjamin.
Benjamin shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I just know. Don’t you wish an elf had visited your room, Alma?”
I stepped to the closet and pulled open the door. Three stuffed animals and a bundle of wadded-up clothes tumbled out.
Aaron snickered, bent over, and threw back the bedspread to look under the bed. More toys, shoes, and clothes had been stuffed out of sight. “Some elf,” he laughed. “Your lazy elf stuffs things away as well as you do, Benjy.”
Benjamin’s smiled drooped into a sad frown as everyone turned and left the room, laughing and joking about his lazy elf. I stayed behind.
“It really was an elf, Alma,” he said with teary eyes. “The room was clean until you opened the closet.”
I put my arm around his shoulders. “Do you know what I think, Benjamin?” He looked up at me. “I think your elf needs a little help.”
“I don’t think there’s another elf who can help him,” Benjamin said sadly, ducking his head.
I stepped over to the closet and dropped to my knees. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Sometimes I’m an elf in my spare time.”
“You?” he gasped.
I grinned, nodding.
“Will you help me, Alma? I don’t want Mom to be sad when she sees my room.”
It didn’t take us long to whip that room into shape. And it was funny how good it made me feel to be doing something good in secret.
We were just straightening the sheets on the top bunk when Jared pushed open the door and stepped in. “Hey, what are you guys doing?”
Benjamin and I looked at each other. “It’s a secret,” I said.
Jared opened the closet door. Everything was in order. He peeked under the bunk bed. Nothing was stuffed there. He pulled out the drawers. All the clothes were folded and straight. “What happened?” he asked.
“It’s a secret,” Benjamin said. “There really is an elf.”
“It’s just you two,” he said, shaking his head.
“If you don’t tell, you can join us.”
“Why would I want to join you? I hate cleaning up.”
“But if you’re an elf, it’s fun!” Benjamin burst out.
Jared looked at me. I grinned and nodded my head. He thought a moment, then said, “All right, I’ll try it.”
“Aaron and my room’s next,” I whispered.
With three elves working full speed, we had the room finished in no time.
“What are you guys up to?” Aaron demanded, walking into our room. “Are you cleaning?” He peered about. Nothing was out of place. He checked under the bed, in the closet, and through the drawers. “Did you guys really do all this?” he demanded.
“Benjy’s elf came back,” Jared said.
“And he brought two buddies,” Benjamin added.
“This place is crawling with elves,” I told him. “There’s a regular elf patrol running around.”
“Mom won’t believe it!” Benjamin crowed. “She’ll think she’s in a different house. And she won’t be sad any more.”
“Join us,” Benjamin invited.
Aaron stepped into Benjamin and Jared’s room and looked around. Then he came back to our room. “Mom won’t know what to think,” he said smiling. Suddenly he frowned. “What about the kitchen? Ammaron just poured a box of cereal all over the floor.”
“It’ll take a whole bunch of elves for that,” Benjamin said.
I turned to Aaron. “Are you in the mood to be an elf?”
“It’s fun,” Benjamin chimed in.
Aaron shrugged. “I’ve been a lot of things but never an elf. Let’s do it!”
I don’t ever remember a time when all five of us worked so hard and so fast. And it took all of us to clean up the kitchen. Jared cleared and cleaned the table, Aaron dried the dishes, helping Ammaron wash them along the way, I grabbed a broom, and Benjamin got the mop.
We were worn out when we heard the car pull into the driveway, but the place was clean.
“Quick,” Aaron ordered. “Everybody get into the family room. We’ll be watching TV, pretending we don’t know anything about the house.”
We pulled a few books from the shelf, scattered some magazines about the floor, and kicked our shoes around the room so that Mom would think we were still just lying in our old mess.
Mom trudged into the house with her arms full of Relief Society things. She staggered into the kitchen and set her things on the table.
“Goodness!” we heard her exclaim. “What happened in here?”
No one answered.
She wandered throughout the house, peering into each room. “What has happened to this house!”
I stretched and yawned. “Oh, don’t worry, Mom. This movie is about over. We’ll help you pick up the house in a few minutes.”
“Have you seen this house?” Mom asked, surprised as she walked into the family room.
“Yeah, it’s a little junky,” Aaron came back, “but we can take care of that after the movie.”
“I don’t believe this is the same house!” Mom exclaimed again. Benjamin covered his face with one of the couch cushions so that Mom wouldn’t see him laughing. Jared and I were trying to hide our giggles too.
When she actually sputtered, “This place is spotless!” we all jumped up and rushed about the house, acting surprised.
“What happened?” we called out. “This place was such a dump!”
Then Mom spotted a note that Aaron had taped to the hall wall. She opened the note and read, “A special surprise from the elf patrol.” Mom looked up. “So we’ve had an elf invasion,” she said happily.
“They must have come in while we were watching TV,” Jared cried. “Imagine that—being invaded by elves!”
Now if the house ever gets really messy or if there is a stack of dirty dishes in the sink, Mom drops down in a chair and sighs, “Oh, I wonder where the elf patrol is today.”
And before too long, without Mom ever knowing, the house gets cleaned. We still haven’t told her who belongs to the elf patrol. That would spoil the magic. And when you are working as a secret elf, all the work you do is just plain fun.
Nothing had happened. We’d just been awake and playing for a couple of hours and hadn’t bothered to clean up after ourselves. When five boys live in a house for two hours, things get kind of messy. We weren’t always sloppy at home. Sometimes we’d clean things up if Mom or Dad asked us to. And we usually grumbled and groaned a bit because keeping things tidy and clean wasn’t our favorite thing to do.
“I didn’t think you were supposed to be back for a long time,” Aaron said.
“I forgot some things,” Mom answered. “I have to go right back. Can’t you boys do something about this house? It looks like a tornado blew through it.”
“But, Mom,” Jared groaned, “it’s a holiday. Nobody wants to work on a holiday.”
She didn’t say anything more. She just found what she was looking for and rushed out the door again.
I looked around. Things did look pretty messy: There were clothes and toys scattered about. Ammaron had emptied all the books from the two bottom shelves, and no one had cleared the breakfast dishes from the table or swept the kitchen floor. Our bedrooms were even worse—clothes everywhere, beds unmade, toys piled on the dressers.
“Do you know what I wish?” Benjamin asked. “I wish we owned an elf.”
“An elf? What would we do with an elf?” I asked.
Benjamin’s grin grew wider, and his dark brown eyes sparkled. “I’d make him work. Then Mom wouldn’t have to.”
“If you find one, Benjy,” Aaron said with a grin, “Alma and I could sure use him in our room. Maybe we could even get him to rake the lawn and plant the garden.”
Benjamin frowned at Aaron’s teasing and stamped his foot. “I am going to find an elf. I don’t want Mom to be sad any more.” He stood up and left the room.
I forgot about the messy house and Benjamin’s elf until he bounced back into the family room a while later and announced loudly, “An elf came!”
The rest of us turned away from the TV and stared at Benjamin, who stood grinning and beaming.
“What are you talking about?” Aaron asked.
Benjamin stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth. “A secret elf came to Jared and my room. It’s clean. Mom will sure be happy when she sees what my elf did.”
Well, we’d never had an elf at our house. We didn’t really believe that Benjamin had found one now, but he had raised our curiosity enough that we left the TV and followed him down the hall.
The place was clean. At least there were no toys, blankets, or clothes scattered about. The bedspreads were a little lumpy, but the beds were made. The room looked a lot better than I had remembered it looking that morning.
“How do you know an elf did it?” Jared questioned Benjamin.
Benjamin shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I just know. Don’t you wish an elf had visited your room, Alma?”
I stepped to the closet and pulled open the door. Three stuffed animals and a bundle of wadded-up clothes tumbled out.
Aaron snickered, bent over, and threw back the bedspread to look under the bed. More toys, shoes, and clothes had been stuffed out of sight. “Some elf,” he laughed. “Your lazy elf stuffs things away as well as you do, Benjy.”
Benjamin’s smiled drooped into a sad frown as everyone turned and left the room, laughing and joking about his lazy elf. I stayed behind.
“It really was an elf, Alma,” he said with teary eyes. “The room was clean until you opened the closet.”
I put my arm around his shoulders. “Do you know what I think, Benjamin?” He looked up at me. “I think your elf needs a little help.”
“I don’t think there’s another elf who can help him,” Benjamin said sadly, ducking his head.
I stepped over to the closet and dropped to my knees. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Sometimes I’m an elf in my spare time.”
“You?” he gasped.
I grinned, nodding.
“Will you help me, Alma? I don’t want Mom to be sad when she sees my room.”
It didn’t take us long to whip that room into shape. And it was funny how good it made me feel to be doing something good in secret.
We were just straightening the sheets on the top bunk when Jared pushed open the door and stepped in. “Hey, what are you guys doing?”
Benjamin and I looked at each other. “It’s a secret,” I said.
Jared opened the closet door. Everything was in order. He peeked under the bunk bed. Nothing was stuffed there. He pulled out the drawers. All the clothes were folded and straight. “What happened?” he asked.
“It’s a secret,” Benjamin said. “There really is an elf.”
“It’s just you two,” he said, shaking his head.
“If you don’t tell, you can join us.”
“Why would I want to join you? I hate cleaning up.”
“But if you’re an elf, it’s fun!” Benjamin burst out.
Jared looked at me. I grinned and nodded my head. He thought a moment, then said, “All right, I’ll try it.”
“Aaron and my room’s next,” I whispered.
With three elves working full speed, we had the room finished in no time.
“What are you guys up to?” Aaron demanded, walking into our room. “Are you cleaning?” He peered about. Nothing was out of place. He checked under the bed, in the closet, and through the drawers. “Did you guys really do all this?” he demanded.
“Benjy’s elf came back,” Jared said.
“And he brought two buddies,” Benjamin added.
“This place is crawling with elves,” I told him. “There’s a regular elf patrol running around.”
“Mom won’t believe it!” Benjamin crowed. “She’ll think she’s in a different house. And she won’t be sad any more.”
“Join us,” Benjamin invited.
Aaron stepped into Benjamin and Jared’s room and looked around. Then he came back to our room. “Mom won’t know what to think,” he said smiling. Suddenly he frowned. “What about the kitchen? Ammaron just poured a box of cereal all over the floor.”
“It’ll take a whole bunch of elves for that,” Benjamin said.
I turned to Aaron. “Are you in the mood to be an elf?”
“It’s fun,” Benjamin chimed in.
Aaron shrugged. “I’ve been a lot of things but never an elf. Let’s do it!”
I don’t ever remember a time when all five of us worked so hard and so fast. And it took all of us to clean up the kitchen. Jared cleared and cleaned the table, Aaron dried the dishes, helping Ammaron wash them along the way, I grabbed a broom, and Benjamin got the mop.
We were worn out when we heard the car pull into the driveway, but the place was clean.
“Quick,” Aaron ordered. “Everybody get into the family room. We’ll be watching TV, pretending we don’t know anything about the house.”
We pulled a few books from the shelf, scattered some magazines about the floor, and kicked our shoes around the room so that Mom would think we were still just lying in our old mess.
Mom trudged into the house with her arms full of Relief Society things. She staggered into the kitchen and set her things on the table.
“Goodness!” we heard her exclaim. “What happened in here?”
No one answered.
She wandered throughout the house, peering into each room. “What has happened to this house!”
I stretched and yawned. “Oh, don’t worry, Mom. This movie is about over. We’ll help you pick up the house in a few minutes.”
“Have you seen this house?” Mom asked, surprised as she walked into the family room.
“Yeah, it’s a little junky,” Aaron came back, “but we can take care of that after the movie.”
“I don’t believe this is the same house!” Mom exclaimed again. Benjamin covered his face with one of the couch cushions so that Mom wouldn’t see him laughing. Jared and I were trying to hide our giggles too.
When she actually sputtered, “This place is spotless!” we all jumped up and rushed about the house, acting surprised.
“What happened?” we called out. “This place was such a dump!”
Then Mom spotted a note that Aaron had taped to the hall wall. She opened the note and read, “A special surprise from the elf patrol.” Mom looked up. “So we’ve had an elf invasion,” she said happily.
“They must have come in while we were watching TV,” Jared cried. “Imagine that—being invaded by elves!”
Now if the house ever gets really messy or if there is a stack of dirty dishes in the sink, Mom drops down in a chair and sighs, “Oh, I wonder where the elf patrol is today.”
And before too long, without Mom ever knowing, the house gets cleaned. We still haven’t told her who belongs to the elf patrol. That would spoil the magic. And when you are working as a secret elf, all the work you do is just plain fun.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
Children
Family
Happiness
Kindness
Parenting
Service
Sarah Farr Smith
Summary: As a boy, George found his mother unconscious after a cupboard fell on her. He prayed fervently for her life and promised to devote himself to God's work. She recovered, and he remembered his promise.
George Albert Smith loved his mother very much, and he had an experience as a boy that taught him the importance of faith and prayer. One day while his mother was cleaning in the kitchen, she bumped the kitchen cupboard and sent it crashing down on top of her. Hearing the noise, he came running to help her. He found her unconscious on the floor underneath the cupboard and prayed to Heavenly Father with all his might that He would save her life. In return, young George Albert promised to devote his life to God’s work. His mother did recover, and he never forgot his promise to the Lord.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Consecration
Covenant
Faith
Family
Miracles
Prayer
“Exceedingly Young”
Summary: Tanya, a Laurel class president in Tasmania, felt inspired after a leadership visit and prayed for help to reach inactive class members. She felt peace from the Holy Ghost and immediately wrote to the girls. She resolved to work with leaders and gain her own testimony through effort.
Thousands of young Latter-day Saints are learning, just as Esther and Lula Greene Richards learned, that it still takes sacrifice to save lives in his kingdom. Tanya, a Laurel class president from Tasmania, caught the vision of her responsibility as a leader of youth today. Following a visit by a member of the Young Women general presidency, she wrote:
“After the first night I got really inspired and filled with the Spirit. I can’t really remember when I have felt like it before. That night I went home and prayed to my Father in heaven and asked for strength and help so my inactive Laurels will want to come back. That night I felt a real peace come over my soul. Then when I heard you again, the same feeling came over me, and I realized how powerful and wonderful the Holy Ghost is. I immediately wrote to the girls. I love my girls in the Young Women organization because they share the same interests and goals that I hope to achieve. I realize that one day I will have to answer to the Lord, so I’m going to press on and work with my leaders. I’m not going to live on a borrowed testimony; I’m going to get my own through hard work.”
“After the first night I got really inspired and filled with the Spirit. I can’t really remember when I have felt like it before. That night I went home and prayed to my Father in heaven and asked for strength and help so my inactive Laurels will want to come back. That night I felt a real peace come over my soul. Then when I heard you again, the same feeling came over me, and I realized how powerful and wonderful the Holy Ghost is. I immediately wrote to the girls. I love my girls in the Young Women organization because they share the same interests and goals that I hope to achieve. I realize that one day I will have to answer to the Lord, so I’m going to press on and work with my leaders. I’m not going to live on a borrowed testimony; I’m going to get my own through hard work.”
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
Holy Ghost
Ministering
Missionary Work
Prayer
Sacrifice
Stewardship
Testimony
Young Women
“I Found the True Priesthood”
Summary: Fan Hsieh spent years serving as a Catholic priest, but he felt a spiritual void and eventually left the priesthood, married, and began searching for deeper truth. After meeting missionaries in Taiwan, studying the Book of Mormon and other Church writings, and learning that he could receive the priesthood again, he and his wife were baptized together in December 1977. Since then, he has shared his testimony widely through lectures, Church service, and translation work, emphasizing friendship, gospel sharing, and salvation.
When Fan Hsieh read about the restoration of the priesthood, he had to know more. “For the first time since I was released from the priesthood in my own church, I thought I might be able to hold the priesthood again,” he says.
After serving eighteen years as a Catholic priest, Hsieh had given up his ministry because he felt “a spiritual void.” Now, as he studied the restored gospel, he was about to discover the true priesthood of God.
Fan Hsieh was born 23 August 1922 in Tayeh, China, an isolated farming community. He did not begin formal education until he was ten years old. After four years in a private school, he enrolled in a Catholic school, began to learn about Jesus Christ, and was baptized a Catholic. “I saw the example of many good Catholic missionaries,” he says, “and I thought maybe China needed more of them to teach the people about Jesus Christ. I decided to become a priest.”
Hsieh’s road to that goal was long and arduous. He attended a Catholic seminary in Wuhan for four years. Then he studied at a Catholic university in the capital city of Beijing [Peking]. A year later, the communists took over the city, and Hsieh escaped to Shanghai, where he attended the Aurora Jesuit University. When the communist forces invaded Shanghai, he moved to the Catholic seminary in Hong Kong. Then, because of the political situation, the seminary was transferred to Macao. While there, Hsieh was ordained a priest in the Catholic church.
Following his ordination, he was assigned to Rome, Italy, where he studied Italian, Latin, and law for four years. Next he moved to Paris, France, where he studied French, Greek, Hebrew, English, Spanish, and German so that he could better understand the original texts and the various translations of the Bible. He wanted to learn all he could about the Savior.
Finally, in 1967, Hsieh’s original desire to teach his people about Jesus Christ became a reality. Cardinal Yu Ping, president of Fu Jen Catholic University in Taipei, invited him to become a member of the faculty as a professor of philosophy and French. In this assignment, Hsieh began to share his growing testimony of Jesus Christ.
“I spent eighteen years teaching and fulfilling my responsibilities as a priest,” says Hsieh. “I was very busy, but I wasn’t happy. I had had the opportunity to study in Europe; I had been a teacher, a student, a professor, a chaplain, a seminary director—my life was colorful—but there was a spiritual void.”
And there were rules and customs within the Catholic church with which Hsieh was uncomfortable, such as the ban on certain books—and he liked to read and study all he could. Another problem that bothered him as an ordained priest was the Lord’s statement: “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).
“This particular scripture became a vivid reality for me once when I was seriously sick and there was no one close to take care of me. I felt very alone. I realized the need for a companion to share my life. I decided then that being alone forever wasn’t right.”
This combination of feelings built up over time. Finally, in 1973, he asked to be released from his priestly vows. He resigned from Fu Jen University and was immediately hired by National Cheng Chi University in Taipei. There, one year later, Hsieh met, courted, and married one of his university assistants. He was about fifty years old at this time.
“But giving up the priesthood was difficult for me,” he says. “I had been a priest for so long. Now I had given up everything that I had lived for up to that point in time. I missed sharing my knowledge and understanding of the gospel, something I had been able to do as a priest. I thought about becoming a minister in another church that allowed priests to marry. But because of my belief in the Catholic church, I couldn’t make that change.”
Three years after his marriage, Hsieh was alone in his home when two young men knocked on his door. “They asked to talk to me, and I said I had no time and no interest in whatever they wanted to talk about.
“But as I thought about them, I became more curious. I wanted to know who they were and what they were doing in Taiwan, so I looked out from the balcony of my apartment and saw them going from door to door. I waited for a long time for them to come out of one of the apartments, and then I called to them to come back to mine.
“The first question I asked them was, ‘Are you missionaries?’ When they answered yes, I questioned them about their religion. Many of my questions were left unanswered, and I didn’t feel satisfied with our first conversation.
“That evening, as I discussed their visit with my wife, she reminded me of the Lord’s admonition to ‘beware of false prophets.’” (See Matt. 7:15.)
When the missionaries made a return visit, Hsieh was not going to let them in, but he didn’t want to be impolite. For the entire evening, Hsieh explained to the missionaries what true religion should be. He did not tell them that he had been a Catholic priest, but they felt encouraged by his knowledge of Christianity.
One of the missionaries, Donald B. Cenatiempo, wrote of the experience, “I felt as if we were the students and he was the teacher. We could tell he was a very intelligent and religious man.” The missionaries asked if they could return, and Hsieh said yes. The visits became a weekly ritual.
“I didn’t want to send them away,” Hsieh remembers. “I thought that if their church were true, it would have a prophet and continuing revelation. I asked them why their church didn’t have crosses or crucifixes, and they said, ‘Because Christ is risen; Christ lives. If one of your friends or parents dies,’ they said, ‘do you take out a photograph of them dead and show it to everyone?’ I was spiritually touched by the wisdom of their response.”
Hsieh started to read the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants, which he especially liked because it is a record of the Lord speaking to man in these latter days. He asked for other books to read, and the missionaries gave him a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, by Elder LeGrand Richards.
“We told Brother Hsieh that it was possible for him to receive the priesthood and perform certain duties within that priesthood,” Elder Cenatiempo wrote. “Brother Hsieh understood as well as anybody could in his stage of spiritual progression what it would mean to hold the priesthood—the true priesthood of God.”
Hsieh explained to his wife what he had read, and she found it very interesting. Together, they began to study and pray for understanding. Eventually, Hsieh’s wife announced to the missionaries, “We have prayed and we feel it best to be baptized together.” They were baptized in December 1977.
In the years since that special event in their lives, they have developed strong testimonies that they enjoy sharing with others.
“We have always said that we would be willing to do whatever the Lord wants us to do,” says Brother Hsieh. “And we’ve always tried to use every opportunity and every talent he has given us to help build up the kingdom of God on the earth and to share the gospel message.”
Some unique opportunities have opened up to Brother Hsieh to do this. He has lectured seven times at the International Conference for Christian Professors. “They are interested in the Church because it is quite new and unique in modern Christianity,” he says. “The Lord has given me many opportunities to bear my testimony to these scholars.”
Currently, Brother Hsieh, a member of the Mu Cha Ward, serves as a high councilor in the Taipei Taiwan West Stake and has assisted in work on a second Chinese translation of the Book of Mormon.
“The gospel is the love of God,” he says. “It is important that all men and women hear this message. What we do, we do for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Friendship is the method by which we share the gospel. The final goal for all is salvation and exaltation.”
After serving eighteen years as a Catholic priest, Hsieh had given up his ministry because he felt “a spiritual void.” Now, as he studied the restored gospel, he was about to discover the true priesthood of God.
Fan Hsieh was born 23 August 1922 in Tayeh, China, an isolated farming community. He did not begin formal education until he was ten years old. After four years in a private school, he enrolled in a Catholic school, began to learn about Jesus Christ, and was baptized a Catholic. “I saw the example of many good Catholic missionaries,” he says, “and I thought maybe China needed more of them to teach the people about Jesus Christ. I decided to become a priest.”
Hsieh’s road to that goal was long and arduous. He attended a Catholic seminary in Wuhan for four years. Then he studied at a Catholic university in the capital city of Beijing [Peking]. A year later, the communists took over the city, and Hsieh escaped to Shanghai, where he attended the Aurora Jesuit University. When the communist forces invaded Shanghai, he moved to the Catholic seminary in Hong Kong. Then, because of the political situation, the seminary was transferred to Macao. While there, Hsieh was ordained a priest in the Catholic church.
Following his ordination, he was assigned to Rome, Italy, where he studied Italian, Latin, and law for four years. Next he moved to Paris, France, where he studied French, Greek, Hebrew, English, Spanish, and German so that he could better understand the original texts and the various translations of the Bible. He wanted to learn all he could about the Savior.
Finally, in 1967, Hsieh’s original desire to teach his people about Jesus Christ became a reality. Cardinal Yu Ping, president of Fu Jen Catholic University in Taipei, invited him to become a member of the faculty as a professor of philosophy and French. In this assignment, Hsieh began to share his growing testimony of Jesus Christ.
“I spent eighteen years teaching and fulfilling my responsibilities as a priest,” says Hsieh. “I was very busy, but I wasn’t happy. I had had the opportunity to study in Europe; I had been a teacher, a student, a professor, a chaplain, a seminary director—my life was colorful—but there was a spiritual void.”
And there were rules and customs within the Catholic church with which Hsieh was uncomfortable, such as the ban on certain books—and he liked to read and study all he could. Another problem that bothered him as an ordained priest was the Lord’s statement: “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).
“This particular scripture became a vivid reality for me once when I was seriously sick and there was no one close to take care of me. I felt very alone. I realized the need for a companion to share my life. I decided then that being alone forever wasn’t right.”
This combination of feelings built up over time. Finally, in 1973, he asked to be released from his priestly vows. He resigned from Fu Jen University and was immediately hired by National Cheng Chi University in Taipei. There, one year later, Hsieh met, courted, and married one of his university assistants. He was about fifty years old at this time.
“But giving up the priesthood was difficult for me,” he says. “I had been a priest for so long. Now I had given up everything that I had lived for up to that point in time. I missed sharing my knowledge and understanding of the gospel, something I had been able to do as a priest. I thought about becoming a minister in another church that allowed priests to marry. But because of my belief in the Catholic church, I couldn’t make that change.”
Three years after his marriage, Hsieh was alone in his home when two young men knocked on his door. “They asked to talk to me, and I said I had no time and no interest in whatever they wanted to talk about.
“But as I thought about them, I became more curious. I wanted to know who they were and what they were doing in Taiwan, so I looked out from the balcony of my apartment and saw them going from door to door. I waited for a long time for them to come out of one of the apartments, and then I called to them to come back to mine.
“The first question I asked them was, ‘Are you missionaries?’ When they answered yes, I questioned them about their religion. Many of my questions were left unanswered, and I didn’t feel satisfied with our first conversation.
“That evening, as I discussed their visit with my wife, she reminded me of the Lord’s admonition to ‘beware of false prophets.’” (See Matt. 7:15.)
When the missionaries made a return visit, Hsieh was not going to let them in, but he didn’t want to be impolite. For the entire evening, Hsieh explained to the missionaries what true religion should be. He did not tell them that he had been a Catholic priest, but they felt encouraged by his knowledge of Christianity.
One of the missionaries, Donald B. Cenatiempo, wrote of the experience, “I felt as if we were the students and he was the teacher. We could tell he was a very intelligent and religious man.” The missionaries asked if they could return, and Hsieh said yes. The visits became a weekly ritual.
“I didn’t want to send them away,” Hsieh remembers. “I thought that if their church were true, it would have a prophet and continuing revelation. I asked them why their church didn’t have crosses or crucifixes, and they said, ‘Because Christ is risen; Christ lives. If one of your friends or parents dies,’ they said, ‘do you take out a photograph of them dead and show it to everyone?’ I was spiritually touched by the wisdom of their response.”
Hsieh started to read the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants, which he especially liked because it is a record of the Lord speaking to man in these latter days. He asked for other books to read, and the missionaries gave him a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, by Elder LeGrand Richards.
“We told Brother Hsieh that it was possible for him to receive the priesthood and perform certain duties within that priesthood,” Elder Cenatiempo wrote. “Brother Hsieh understood as well as anybody could in his stage of spiritual progression what it would mean to hold the priesthood—the true priesthood of God.”
Hsieh explained to his wife what he had read, and she found it very interesting. Together, they began to study and pray for understanding. Eventually, Hsieh’s wife announced to the missionaries, “We have prayed and we feel it best to be baptized together.” They were baptized in December 1977.
In the years since that special event in their lives, they have developed strong testimonies that they enjoy sharing with others.
“We have always said that we would be willing to do whatever the Lord wants us to do,” says Brother Hsieh. “And we’ve always tried to use every opportunity and every talent he has given us to help build up the kingdom of God on the earth and to share the gospel message.”
Some unique opportunities have opened up to Brother Hsieh to do this. He has lectured seven times at the International Conference for Christian Professors. “They are interested in the Church because it is quite new and unique in modern Christianity,” he says. “The Lord has given me many opportunities to bear my testimony to these scholars.”
Currently, Brother Hsieh, a member of the Mu Cha Ward, serves as a high councilor in the Taipei Taiwan West Stake and has assisted in work on a second Chinese translation of the Book of Mormon.
“The gospel is the love of God,” he says. “It is important that all men and women hear this message. What we do, we do for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Friendship is the method by which we share the gospel. The final goal for all is salvation and exaltation.”
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Other
Baptism
Book of Mormon
Conversion
Missionary Work
Priesthood
Revelation
Scriptures
The Restoration
Honoring the Lord’s Day
Summary: A business owner in Argentina won basketball tickets scheduled for Sunday and planned to use them in a radio promotion since he could not attend. After winning a second ticket, he felt a spiritual prompting not to run the promotion because it would encourage others to break the Sabbath. He canceled the promotion, explained his decision to his wife, and learned to keep the Sabbath's spirit, not just its rules. He expressed gratitude for his wife's support and the Spirit's guidance.
When we ask ourselves whether we are keeping the Sabbath day holy, we may sometimes answer, “Yes. I attend Church meetings, spend time with my family, read the scriptures, write in my journal, and refrain from working.” But one particular experience caused me to search my soul, asking, “Is this enough?”
Each week I travel from Octavo, Argentina, to Cordoba to buy merchandise for my business. During one trip, I found that for each purchase I made from one vendor, I could participate in a contest. The contest’s top prize was a ticket to a basketball game played by the top team in Cordoba.
When I won one of the tickets, I was excited—until I realized there was a problem. The game was on Sunday, so I wouldn’t be able to go myself. But I quickly figured out how I could use the ticket. I had some advertising space on a radio station in my city, and I could give this ticket away in a promotion for my business.
The following week I made a purchase from the same vendor and strangely enough won another ticket to the same game. Now I could give away two tickets. I knew my promotion would be even more successful.
A few hours after winning the second ticket, I had an unusual feeling. It was a soft, quiet voice telling me I should not run the promotion. When my wife asked why I was canceling the promotion, I responded that if we couldn’t go to a sports event because it would be dishonoring the Sabbath, I felt it would not be right to encourage others to do so through a radio promotion.
This experience helped me understand that honoring the Sabbath is more than just following a list of things we should and should not do. Although prophets have not spoken about the particular situation I found myself in, when I felt the Spirit’s prompting, I knew I needed to keep the spirit of the Sabbath by helping others to enjoy it as well.
I am grateful to my wife for supporting this decision and to my Heavenly Father, whose Spirit helped me understand how to better honor His holy day.
Each week I travel from Octavo, Argentina, to Cordoba to buy merchandise for my business. During one trip, I found that for each purchase I made from one vendor, I could participate in a contest. The contest’s top prize was a ticket to a basketball game played by the top team in Cordoba.
When I won one of the tickets, I was excited—until I realized there was a problem. The game was on Sunday, so I wouldn’t be able to go myself. But I quickly figured out how I could use the ticket. I had some advertising space on a radio station in my city, and I could give this ticket away in a promotion for my business.
The following week I made a purchase from the same vendor and strangely enough won another ticket to the same game. Now I could give away two tickets. I knew my promotion would be even more successful.
A few hours after winning the second ticket, I had an unusual feeling. It was a soft, quiet voice telling me I should not run the promotion. When my wife asked why I was canceling the promotion, I responded that if we couldn’t go to a sports event because it would be dishonoring the Sabbath, I felt it would not be right to encourage others to do so through a radio promotion.
This experience helped me understand that honoring the Sabbath is more than just following a list of things we should and should not do. Although prophets have not spoken about the particular situation I found myself in, when I felt the Spirit’s prompting, I knew I needed to keep the spirit of the Sabbath by helping others to enjoy it as well.
I am grateful to my wife for supporting this decision and to my Heavenly Father, whose Spirit helped me understand how to better honor His holy day.
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👤 Church Members (General)
Commandments
Holy Ghost
Obedience
Revelation
Reverence
Sabbath Day
The Name by Which Ye Are Called
Summary: When his oldest son got his first cell phone, the speaker checked what contact name his son used for him. After seeing his wife listed as 'Mother' and not finding himself under 'Father' or 'Dad,' he called the phone to see what appeared. The screen displayed 'Not Mother,' prompting reflection on the names by which we define ourselves.
I learned this for myself when my oldest son received his first cell phone. With great excitement, he began entering the names of his family and friends into his contacts. One day I noticed his mom was calling. On the screen appeared the name “Mother.” That was a sensible and dignified choice—and, I’ll admit, a sign of respect for the better parent in our home. Naturally, I got curious. What name had he given me?
I scrolled through his contacts, assuming that if Wendi was “Mother,” I must be “Father.” Not there. I searched for “Dad.” Still nothing. My curiosity turned into mild concern. “Does he call me ‘Corey’?” No. In a last-ditch effort, I thought, “We’re soccer players—maybe he calls me ‘Pelé.’” Wishful thinking. Finally, I called his number myself, and two words popped up on his screen: “Not Mother”!
I scrolled through his contacts, assuming that if Wendi was “Mother,” I must be “Father.” Not there. I searched for “Dad.” Still nothing. My curiosity turned into mild concern. “Does he call me ‘Corey’?” No. In a last-ditch effort, I thought, “We’re soccer players—maybe he calls me ‘Pelé.’” Wishful thinking. Finally, I called his number myself, and two words popped up on his screen: “Not Mother”!
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Parenting
Baboe Kit’s Gift
Summary: As a nine-year-old in a Japanese concentration camp in Java, the narrator wandered toward the barbed wire and unexpectedly met her former nanny hiding in the bushes. The nanny warned her to be careful, urged her to pray and endure, and passed the child her beloved doll, Pop Mientje, before being shot by a sentry while fleeing. A Japanese soldier quietly told the girl to run, and she returned safely, wrestling with guilt over her nanny's death for years.
“Happy Birthday, Itte petit,” my mother whispered to me as we awoke early one morning in the Japanese concentration camp in Java, Indonesia. “You are nine years old—a big girl. Pretty soon we’ll be able to celebrate your birthday in freedom, with cakes and lemonade and ice cream. You’ll see!
“You have always been a special child, born to me because you have a destiny. You have come to earth to live because you have a goal to reach. There is a purpose for your life, and being in this camp is only temporary.” Softly, my mother insisted that some day the war would end and peace would prevail.
My older sister, younger sister, and younger brother had been with us in the camp for eighteen months—ever since Japanese soldiers had forced us from our home. Our three older brothers were in another camp. We knew that my father was in a camp in Japan or the Philippines because of his involvement in the resistance against the invasion of Indonesia.
I was depressed and lonely. The world was so unfair! We were confined behind barbed wire, infested with fleas and lice, and plagued with flies and mosquitoes. Each person was allotted only one and one-half meters of space in our cramped, hot building. People bickered and were unkind to each other, children were always crying, and we had to take turns going to the latrine.
“What will my tenth birthday be like?” I wondered. “Will I be free?” How I wished I could walk on soft green grass—roll in it, smell it! How wonderful it would be to sing if I wanted to, scream if I wanted to, or just be by myself!
One day, the need to be alone made me disregard my mother’s warning to stay close to our building. I wandered away, taking my only possession—a stick—with me. My mother often wrote on the ground with that stick, making a game of teaching us the letters. She also told us Bible stories and stories about things we used to do or things she had done as a child.
I was thinking about these “good old times” as I wandered farther and farther away from the main compound, toward the outskirts of camp and the feared barbed wires. Oblivious to my surroundings, I was dreaming about our old house in the mountains, my pony, and my toys. Oh, why had I left my doll—Pop Mientje—sitting in the chair when the soldiers came to take us away? I had been too frightened and too sleepy to think of my old rag doll, and I had left her at home. How I wished I had her now!
I also missed my nanny, the older Javanese woman who used to watch over me. When I had been frightened or had hurt myself it was my nanny—Baboe Kit—who had comforted and consoled me. I could still remember the feel of her sweet, soft hands caressing me, the smell of her fragrance, and the sound of her voice whispering consoling words. I even imagined that I could hear her call out to me: “Nonny Kitty, Kitty!”
But wait! Listen … It was not my imagination.
I heard it again: “Nonny Kitty, Kitty. Very carefully, look to your left. I am in the bushes. Don’t come too near. The barbed wire is very sharp, and they say there are land mines around here.”
Carefully, I turned my head and looked into the underbrush. There she was: my nanny!
“You have come to take me away from this awful camp?” I asked.
“No, Nonny. I have come to give you something because it is your birthday.”
I came closer, pretending to play with the stick on the ground.
“Nanny, please, I want to come with you. I hate it here. Please let me touch you. Oh, Baboe Kit, please!”
Her voice became stern. She told me to keep very still, to keep my voice down, and to listen to what she had to say.
“I brought you Pop Mientje to keep you company because baboes are not allowed in this camp, and it is too dangerous for a European child to live in the village. Always say your prayers to ask for strength to endure what you have to endure, because Allah is wise and all-knowing. He knows when the war will end and is only testing us to see if we can stay faithful and endure to the end. And the end will be sweet to us. Take Pop Mientje, and promise me that you will not lose her. Take her with you wherever you go. If you do that, she will bring you happiness one day.”
I knew that whatever Nanny told me was true, and I had learned to obey her at all times. But at that moment I needed her touch—no matter how dangerous it was. I shifted my position and crawled toward the barbed wires. She handed me Pop Mientje. Our hands touched. She stroked my hand.
“Oh, please take me with you! Please don’t go away!” I threw the doll aside and reached out for her with both hands, cutting my face as I brushed against the barbed wire to press my body closer to her. I could smell her fragrance. I closed my eyes, savoring the seconds of feeling her hands caress my face.
“Go, Nonny. Go now, quickly. Take the doll and go quickly. I have to go. Quickly!”
I was not quick enough. A sentry saw us. He saw her run away, and took aim and shot my nanny—my Baboe Kit—in the back. A gaping wound appeared, and she turned around and waved at me with her hand, as if to say, “It is okay!”
Amid the confusion of shouting sentries and screaming women that followed the shooting, no one paid attention to me. I stood there in shock, unable to move. Someone picked up Pop Mientje and handed her to me. I stooped to pick up the stick, and as I straightened up, I saw a Japanese soldier standing in front of me. He looked at me and whispered, “Go quickly.”
I ran all the way to our compound. I had been saved by my enemy—a Japanese soldier! My mother was waiting for me. She had been looking for me all over. When she saw me running toward her with Pop Mientje, she knew that I had seen Baboe Kit.
I told her what had happened. “If only I had been a little bit quicker! If I had not been so slow and had listened to her, Baboe Kit would be alive!”
My mother folded me into her arms and comforted me, telling me over and over again that what had happened was not my fault.
I wrestled with guilt for many years before I fully understood the meaning of Baboe Kit’s sacrifice. Meanwhile, I took Pop Mientje with me everywhere.
“You have always been a special child, born to me because you have a destiny. You have come to earth to live because you have a goal to reach. There is a purpose for your life, and being in this camp is only temporary.” Softly, my mother insisted that some day the war would end and peace would prevail.
My older sister, younger sister, and younger brother had been with us in the camp for eighteen months—ever since Japanese soldiers had forced us from our home. Our three older brothers were in another camp. We knew that my father was in a camp in Japan or the Philippines because of his involvement in the resistance against the invasion of Indonesia.
I was depressed and lonely. The world was so unfair! We were confined behind barbed wire, infested with fleas and lice, and plagued with flies and mosquitoes. Each person was allotted only one and one-half meters of space in our cramped, hot building. People bickered and were unkind to each other, children were always crying, and we had to take turns going to the latrine.
“What will my tenth birthday be like?” I wondered. “Will I be free?” How I wished I could walk on soft green grass—roll in it, smell it! How wonderful it would be to sing if I wanted to, scream if I wanted to, or just be by myself!
One day, the need to be alone made me disregard my mother’s warning to stay close to our building. I wandered away, taking my only possession—a stick—with me. My mother often wrote on the ground with that stick, making a game of teaching us the letters. She also told us Bible stories and stories about things we used to do or things she had done as a child.
I was thinking about these “good old times” as I wandered farther and farther away from the main compound, toward the outskirts of camp and the feared barbed wires. Oblivious to my surroundings, I was dreaming about our old house in the mountains, my pony, and my toys. Oh, why had I left my doll—Pop Mientje—sitting in the chair when the soldiers came to take us away? I had been too frightened and too sleepy to think of my old rag doll, and I had left her at home. How I wished I had her now!
I also missed my nanny, the older Javanese woman who used to watch over me. When I had been frightened or had hurt myself it was my nanny—Baboe Kit—who had comforted and consoled me. I could still remember the feel of her sweet, soft hands caressing me, the smell of her fragrance, and the sound of her voice whispering consoling words. I even imagined that I could hear her call out to me: “Nonny Kitty, Kitty!”
But wait! Listen … It was not my imagination.
I heard it again: “Nonny Kitty, Kitty. Very carefully, look to your left. I am in the bushes. Don’t come too near. The barbed wire is very sharp, and they say there are land mines around here.”
Carefully, I turned my head and looked into the underbrush. There she was: my nanny!
“You have come to take me away from this awful camp?” I asked.
“No, Nonny. I have come to give you something because it is your birthday.”
I came closer, pretending to play with the stick on the ground.
“Nanny, please, I want to come with you. I hate it here. Please let me touch you. Oh, Baboe Kit, please!”
Her voice became stern. She told me to keep very still, to keep my voice down, and to listen to what she had to say.
“I brought you Pop Mientje to keep you company because baboes are not allowed in this camp, and it is too dangerous for a European child to live in the village. Always say your prayers to ask for strength to endure what you have to endure, because Allah is wise and all-knowing. He knows when the war will end and is only testing us to see if we can stay faithful and endure to the end. And the end will be sweet to us. Take Pop Mientje, and promise me that you will not lose her. Take her with you wherever you go. If you do that, she will bring you happiness one day.”
I knew that whatever Nanny told me was true, and I had learned to obey her at all times. But at that moment I needed her touch—no matter how dangerous it was. I shifted my position and crawled toward the barbed wires. She handed me Pop Mientje. Our hands touched. She stroked my hand.
“Oh, please take me with you! Please don’t go away!” I threw the doll aside and reached out for her with both hands, cutting my face as I brushed against the barbed wire to press my body closer to her. I could smell her fragrance. I closed my eyes, savoring the seconds of feeling her hands caress my face.
“Go, Nonny. Go now, quickly. Take the doll and go quickly. I have to go. Quickly!”
I was not quick enough. A sentry saw us. He saw her run away, and took aim and shot my nanny—my Baboe Kit—in the back. A gaping wound appeared, and she turned around and waved at me with her hand, as if to say, “It is okay!”
Amid the confusion of shouting sentries and screaming women that followed the shooting, no one paid attention to me. I stood there in shock, unable to move. Someone picked up Pop Mientje and handed her to me. I stooped to pick up the stick, and as I straightened up, I saw a Japanese soldier standing in front of me. He looked at me and whispered, “Go quickly.”
I ran all the way to our compound. I had been saved by my enemy—a Japanese soldier! My mother was waiting for me. She had been looking for me all over. When she saw me running toward her with Pop Mientje, she knew that I had seen Baboe Kit.
I told her what had happened. “If only I had been a little bit quicker! If I had not been so slow and had listened to her, Baboe Kit would be alive!”
My mother folded me into her arms and comforted me, telling me over and over again that what had happened was not my fault.
I wrestled with guilt for many years before I fully understood the meaning of Baboe Kit’s sacrifice. Meanwhile, I took Pop Mientje with me everywhere.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Adversity
Children
Endure to the End
Faith
Family
Grief
Sacrifice
War
People to People
Summary: A lonely sheepherder in Wyoming wrote to conductor Arturo Toscanini asking the orchestra to sound an 'A' so he could tune his violin before his radio batteries died. During the next broadcast, Toscanini had the orchestra sound a perfect 'A.' With that one note, the sheepherder could tune the rest of his strings and find joy in music again.
Arturo Toscanini, the late, famous conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, received a brief, crumpled letter from a lonely sheepherder in the remote mountain area of Wyoming:
“Mr. Conductor: I have only two possessions—a radio and an old violin. The batteries in my radio are getting low and will soon die. My violin is so out of tune I can’t use it. Please help me. Next Sunday when you begin your concert, sound a loud ‘A’ so I can tune my ‘A’ string; then I can tune the other strings. When my radio batteries are dead, I’ll have my violin.”
At the beginning of his next nationwide radio concert from Carnegie Hall, Toscanini announced: “For a dear friend and listener back in the mountains of Wyoming the orchestra will now sound an ‘A.’” The musicians all joined together in a perfect “A.”
The lonely sheepherder only needed one note, just a little help to get back in tune; he could go on from there. He needed someone who cared to assist him with one string; the others would be easy. Then, with all strings in tune—in harmony—the lonely sheepherder would have a source of companionship and joy and could play uplifting strains.
“Mr. Conductor: I have only two possessions—a radio and an old violin. The batteries in my radio are getting low and will soon die. My violin is so out of tune I can’t use it. Please help me. Next Sunday when you begin your concert, sound a loud ‘A’ so I can tune my ‘A’ string; then I can tune the other strings. When my radio batteries are dead, I’ll have my violin.”
At the beginning of his next nationwide radio concert from Carnegie Hall, Toscanini announced: “For a dear friend and listener back in the mountains of Wyoming the orchestra will now sound an ‘A.’” The musicians all joined together in a perfect “A.”
The lonely sheepherder only needed one note, just a little help to get back in tune; he could go on from there. He needed someone who cared to assist him with one string; the others would be easy. Then, with all strings in tune—in harmony—the lonely sheepherder would have a source of companionship and joy and could play uplifting strains.
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👤 Other
Charity
Friendship
Kindness
Ministering
Music
Service
True to the Faith That Our Parents Have Cherished
Summary: The couple lived humbly in Amsterdam and had saved enough for a washing machine, but when their bishop asked for help building a meetinghouse, they gave their savings away instead. Though they continued washing clothes by hand, the experience became part of a larger pattern of faith, sacrifice, and endurance that strengthened their family. The story concludes by showing how their lifelong motto, “Just carry on,” helped them endure later trials, including the mother’s Alzheimer’s disease and her passing after more than 65 years of marriage.
They started to raise their family from a very humble single attic-room apartment in the heart of Amsterdam. After several years of washing their clothes by hand, they had finally saved up enough money to purchase a washing machine. Just before they would make the purchase, the bishop visited them, asking for a contribution to build the meetinghouse in Amsterdam. They decided to give all they had saved for the washing machine and continued to do the laundry by hand. As a family we went through some hardships, just like any other family. These have only made us stronger and have deepened our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, just like when Alma was sharing his story with his son Helaman, where he told him that he had been “supported under trials and troubles of every kind” because he had put his trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. How did two people who experienced so many trials in their younger years become the very best parents I could ever wish for? The answer is simple: they fully embraced the gospel and live by their covenants to this very day! After more than 65 years of marriage, my mother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, passed away in February. My father, at the age of 92 and still living at home, visited her as often as he could until she passed away. Some time ago he mentioned to my younger siblings that the dreadful experiences in the camp in Indonesia during World War II had prepared him to patiently care for his wife for so many years as she fell ill and deteriorated from this horrible disease and also for the fateful day he had to entrust her primary care to others and could not be by her side anymore. Their motto has been and still is to “Just carry on,” having a perfect hope in Christ to be raised up at the last day and to dwell with Him in glory forever.
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👤 Parents
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Adversity
Bishop
Charity
Family
Sacrifice
Black Beauty’s Author
Summary: At age fourteen, Anna hurried to school without her umbrella and slipped in the rain after classes, spraining her ankle. Medical limitations of the time led to lasting complications. She remained largely an invalid for the rest of her life.
One cloudy day when she was fourteen, Anna raced off to school in her usual hurry, forgetting her umbrella. After school that day it began to rain. At the gate Anna fell and sprained her ankle. Doctors in those days didn’t have the benefit of X-ray machines, and sometimes mistakes were made in the treatment of bones and ligaments. For the rest of her life Anna was crippled. At times she could walk a little, but much of the time she was an invalid.
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👤 Youth
👤 Other
Adversity
Disabilities
Health
Directed by the Holy Spirit
Summary: After becoming very ill and learning the airstrip was fogged in, the narrator asked for a priesthood blessing, immediately recovered, and ate breakfast. The clouds lifted just enough for them to depart that day, and later they learned the fog persisted for several more days.
After our return to the hotel, I became quite ill during the night. The next morning my traveling companions came to my bedroom to see why I had not come to breakfast. I told them I was too ill to get out of bed. They said that they would eat breakfast and then go down to the airstrip and look at the plane to see that everything was all right.
They soon returned and informed me that clouds had settled down on the airstrip and on Tuxtla so heavily that we would not be able to get out. We were fogged in, and they had been informed that the airstrip would probably be fogged in for a considerable time because the rainy season was beginning. They asked me what should be done.
After thinking for a few moments I was impressed by the Holy Spirit to say, “Give me a blessing and we will fly out today.” At first they replied, “President Hunter, you are too ill to fly.” But I insisted on being blessed. President Strong anointed and his son Bert sealed the anointing and gave me a blessing. I immediately got up out of bed, went in and ate breakfast, and felt completely healed.
We took our luggage and went down to the airstrip. Shortly after, the clouds lifted sufficiently for us to fly out. We heard later from the archaeological workman that several days passed before the fog and clouds lifted again. Therefore, that particular day was our time to fly out of Tuxtla.
They soon returned and informed me that clouds had settled down on the airstrip and on Tuxtla so heavily that we would not be able to get out. We were fogged in, and they had been informed that the airstrip would probably be fogged in for a considerable time because the rainy season was beginning. They asked me what should be done.
After thinking for a few moments I was impressed by the Holy Spirit to say, “Give me a blessing and we will fly out today.” At first they replied, “President Hunter, you are too ill to fly.” But I insisted on being blessed. President Strong anointed and his son Bert sealed the anointing and gave me a blessing. I immediately got up out of bed, went in and ate breakfast, and felt completely healed.
We took our luggage and went down to the airstrip. Shortly after, the clouds lifted sufficiently for us to fly out. We heard later from the archaeological workman that several days passed before the fog and clouds lifted again. Therefore, that particular day was our time to fly out of Tuxtla.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Faith
Health
Holy Ghost
Miracles
Priesthood Blessing
Revelation
More Smiles per Gallon:Ten Ways to Make Family Vacations More Fun
Summary: The narrator and a sister routinely fought over the coveted seat behind their mother as trips began. Over time, they learned to share and take turns, even with the less desirable seat behind their father. This patience reduced conflict and helped the family travel more peacefully.
Your patience may be the key to the success of a trip. Whenever people are placed in close quarters for any length of time there are bound to be some personality conflicts.
In our family the first “fight” usually began in the driveway. My sister and I would quarrel over the place behind Mom like it was the only window seat on a trip to Mars. We both learned, through time, to share. We also learned to take turns in the seat behind Dad—you know, the one that has no leg room.
In our family the first “fight” usually began in the driveway. My sister and I would quarrel over the place behind Mom like it was the only window seat on a trip to Mars. We both learned, through time, to share. We also learned to take turns in the seat behind Dad—you know, the one that has no leg room.
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👤 Parents
👤 Youth
Children
Family
Patience
A Gathering of Saints
Summary: In February 1831, Joseph and Emma Smith arrived in Kirtland and stopped at Newel K. Whitney’s store. Though they had never met, Joseph greeted Whitney by name and said he had seen him in a vision praying for his coming. The Whitneys joyfully housed the Smiths until they found another place to live.
At the end of January 1831, Joseph and Emma Smith traveled to Ohio from New York in a horse-drawn sleigh. It was very cold, and Emma was expecting a baby. They arrived safely in front of Newel K. Whitney’s store in Kirtland during the first part of February. As they stopped, the prophet sprang from the sleigh, entered the store, and approached Brother Whitney, whom he had never met before. “Newel K. Whitney!” he declared, extending his hand to shake. “Thou art the man.” “You have the advantage of me,” replied Brother Whitney. “I could not call you by name as you have me.” “I am Joseph the Prophet. You prayed me here, now what do you want of me?” Joseph then explained that while he was still in New York he had seen Brother Whitney in a vision, praying for him to come to Kirtland. With great joy, the Whitneys made room in their home for the Smiths until they could find another place to live.
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👤 Joseph Smith
👤 Early Saints
Family
Joseph Smith
Kindness
Prayer
Revelation
The Restoration
Searching for Mary Ellen
Summary: A young researcher spent years trying to find information to submit her third great-grandmother Mary Ellen Williams for temple work. After exhausting many records and contacting a relative named Audry who passed away, she prayed for help. The next day, Audry’s daughter sent a package containing crucial family records, including biographical sketches of Mary Ellen. The researcher expressed gratitude to God, and Mary Ellen received her temple blessings in 1998.
The name of my third great-grandmother, Mary Ellen Williams, stood out on the list of names I was researching because she was half Cherokee Indian. I became interested in family history when I was about 12. After a few years of researching the lives of my ancestors, I was fascinated by this small detail about her life. But finding the information necessary to submit Mary Ellen’s name for temple work was tough.
I began my search by looking through the 1900 census records. I couldn’t find what I needed there, so Mary Ellen’s name went back into the files and I continued to work on other family lines. About one year later I found an old tattered envelope which contained letters from people whom my mother had corresponded with concerning her family history. There wasn’t much information about Mary Ellen, but it stirred an excitement in me once again. I searched through cemetery records, marriage records, birth dates, and death dates. I was running out of leads, but I continued to fast and pray for any leads to Mary Ellen.
In 1996 at a family reunion, I sought help from family members and received a copy of an obituary of Grace Meador Wooden, Mary Ellen’s daughter. I read it hoping to find something about Mary Ellen. Again nothing. However, survivors listed in the obituary included a sister named Audry. I looked in the phone directory and found her number. My mother called her for me to ask for any information on Mary Ellen. Audry answered many questions and said she would send me what she could. I waited daily for news from Audry, but nothing came.
Two months had passed when I got a phone call from Audry’s daughter. Audry had not been well and had passed away shortly after she and my mother had spoken. But the search for Mary Ellen didn’t end with Audry’s death. While going through her mother’s things, Audry’s daughter found an old family Bible and said she would send me information out of it.
Another two months passed and nothing came in the mail. I couldn’t give up so I spoke out loud, “Mary Ellen, I don’t know where you are, and I have searched everywhere possible. I don’t know where else to look. If you want to be found, you have to help me.” The next day I received a large manila envelope from Audry’s daughter containing valuable information. Among the treasures was a copy of a small booklet of biographical sketches of Mary Ellen Williams. I had found her after two and a half years of searching. I immediately went to my room and thanked my Heavenly Father for answering my prayers. On August 11, 1998, my great-great-great-grandmother, Mary Ellen Williams, received her temple blessings.
I began my search by looking through the 1900 census records. I couldn’t find what I needed there, so Mary Ellen’s name went back into the files and I continued to work on other family lines. About one year later I found an old tattered envelope which contained letters from people whom my mother had corresponded with concerning her family history. There wasn’t much information about Mary Ellen, but it stirred an excitement in me once again. I searched through cemetery records, marriage records, birth dates, and death dates. I was running out of leads, but I continued to fast and pray for any leads to Mary Ellen.
In 1996 at a family reunion, I sought help from family members and received a copy of an obituary of Grace Meador Wooden, Mary Ellen’s daughter. I read it hoping to find something about Mary Ellen. Again nothing. However, survivors listed in the obituary included a sister named Audry. I looked in the phone directory and found her number. My mother called her for me to ask for any information on Mary Ellen. Audry answered many questions and said she would send me what she could. I waited daily for news from Audry, but nothing came.
Two months had passed when I got a phone call from Audry’s daughter. Audry had not been well and had passed away shortly after she and my mother had spoken. But the search for Mary Ellen didn’t end with Audry’s death. While going through her mother’s things, Audry’s daughter found an old family Bible and said she would send me information out of it.
Another two months passed and nothing came in the mail. I couldn’t give up so I spoke out loud, “Mary Ellen, I don’t know where you are, and I have searched everywhere possible. I don’t know where else to look. If you want to be found, you have to help me.” The next day I received a large manila envelope from Audry’s daughter containing valuable information. Among the treasures was a copy of a small booklet of biographical sketches of Mary Ellen Williams. I had found her after two and a half years of searching. I immediately went to my room and thanked my Heavenly Father for answering my prayers. On August 11, 1998, my great-great-great-grandmother, Mary Ellen Williams, received her temple blessings.
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