Gospel Story Finder

It was too late to stop. As I crashed into the car in front of me, the splinter of glass and crumple of metal dimly registered, an echo of my own shattered breathing.
I started to cry, and my brother Rob said, “It’ll be okay, Alanna. Everything will be all right.” But everything was not all right. I had caused a four-car accident.
Minutes later, a policeman told me no one was seriously hurt. Fortunately, everyone involved was wearing seatbelts. A paramedic treated me for minor cuts, and after I complained of a sharp pain in my neck, I was put on a stretcher.
On the ride to the hospital, a paramedic said, “Alanna, you’re a very lucky girl.”
Lucky? I was strapped in a stretcher with my neck immobilized in a brace. I had totaled my dad’s car, and was responsible for the damage to three other cars. How could he say I was lucky?
“The only reason you’re still alive is because you were wearing your seatbelt,” he added.
For as long as I can remember, my parents stressed the importance of wearing seatbelts. Because of my parents’ example, I wore my seatbelt without fail. This one small act may have literally saved my life.

As a new missionary in Japan, I had a hard time understanding anyone, let alone getting to know them. It was difficult to learn to love people I didn’t even know, especially when I couldn’t understand what they were saying. But I made an effort to show my love for them, and I appreciated their efforts to reach out to me.
Each week, my companion and I received a loaf of homemade bread from a sister in the ward named Sister Senba. She showed her love for the missionaries by baking homemade bread and writing small but heartfelt notes.
I was touched that someone cared about me. I felt impressed to show my gratitude to her in some small way. I wrote her a note expressing how grateful I was for her and the sacrifices she and her family made to help the missionaries. We became friends, and I began to think of her as my “mother away from home.”
Months passed. Early one Wednesday morning I received a call from my mission president, who asked me to transfer down to Okinawa. When I hung up the phone, I was filled with the most bittersweet feeling. I dreaded having to say my good-byes. Each phone call to tell members of the ward I would be leaving on the following day made my heart hurt. Saying good-bye to the people I had come to love so much was more difficult than I had imagined it would be.
As I finished these calls, I noticed that the only one who had not answered the phone was Sister Senba. I was sad I would not be able to say good-bye to a member who had become so close to my heart.
The next morning two other missionaries and I left for the airport. When we arrived at the ticket counter and tried to buy tickets, the workers told us that our cards had been declined. We did not have any money to pay for the tickets, and the flight was leaving in 10 minutes! The three of us were in a panic. We were about to miss the flight and be stranded at the airport for the day.
But all of my panic turned to comfort when I turned around and saw Sister Senba walk into the airport. I was shocked that she was there because she hadn’t known what time our flight was. As she scrambled over to us, she smiled and gave us all bread to bring onto the plane.
As we explained to her that we were going to miss our flight, she became saddened. None of us knew what to do. Then Sister Senba began rummaging through her purse, looking for something that could help us. She jumped happily into the air when she found a small envelope in her purse in which, weeks ago, she had placed ¥50,000—the exact amount of money we needed. She gave us the money, and we were able to get our tickets in time. We thanked her with every ounce of gratitude our souls could muster, said good-bye, and rushed onto the plane.
After the plane took off, my fellow missionary turned to me and said, “Isn’t she amazing?! That was a miracle!”
I then realized how truly miraculous it really was. He then said, “What does your note say?” I saw he was reading a note that was with the bread Sister Senba had given him. As I realized I had one too, I pulled out the note and read a small piece of paper personally addressed to me, which immediately made my eyes swell with tears. It said, “I love you! Please don’t forget me! I will never forget you!”
At that moment I felt the Spirit more strongly than I ever have before. Sister Senba’s example taught me how important it is to follow the promptings of the Spirit—no matter how small or strange the prompting might seem. Through these promptings we have the power to change lives for the better. I know it was not a coincidence that she came to the airport. It was a miracle.
Truly the Lord uses small means to bring about His work. How blessed we are as members of this Church to have His influence in our lives. Let us all remain worthy to receive these promptings and bless the lives of the children of God.

“My Young Women leaders had challenged me to finish reading the Book of Mormon by November,” says Sierra Hoffman, a Mia Maid from Albany, Oregon. “I was in the middle of it when President Hinckley gave the challenge to all members to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year.”
She could have simply finished from where she was. And she did. Then, after completing her leaders’ challenge, Sierra turned back to 1 Nephi in late November and started reading again—this time to meet President Hinckley’s reading challenge. She read each night, sometimes for several hours.
“The spirit that filled my room and my heart as I read was amazing!” she says. “Passages that I had never noticed before stood out and touched me deeply. Verses that had confused me before made sense. Tears would fill my eyes as I read about the Savior visiting the Americas.”
Sierra also noticed a change in her 10-year-old brother as he, too, began reading from the Book of Mormon daily. He became more loving, kind, and respectful. Just as President Hinckley promised when he made the challenge, there was a greater feeling of the Spirit of the Lord in the Hoffman family’s home.

Growing up in Australia, our closest temple was Hamilton New Zealand. As a new missionary in January 1976, I received my endowment there. I still remember experiencing tranquility and peace in a house of the Lord. I also remember the distinct feeling that I needed a choice eternal companion to receive the full blessings the temple has to offer.
In January 1979 when I returned with Maxine Thatcher, a most beautiful and righteous girl from my home ward, we were sealed for time and eternity. We marveled and rejoiced in the covenants we made to each other and the Lord.

Carolyn not only serves her family but helps them serve their neighbors. Three years ago there was a drought in New Jersey. When rain finally came, it came in the form of Hurricane Floyd. Suddenly there was too much water. The Foxes could not leave their neighborhood because all the roads to it were flooded. Their whole neighborhood was without power for four days.
Their home didn’t get flooded, but nearly every other house in their area had seven to eight feet of water in its basement. “The stream in our backyard turned into a river. For a while the children sailed down it on their boogie boards,” Sister Fox said. “But they soon gave that up and went and helped people.”
The Foxes own a large pump and spent the next four days pumping out basements. It was a marvelous experience for them. They got to know their neighbors, and their neighbors got to know them. While Dad ran the pump, Carolyn, Katie, Adam, and David swam around the basements trying to save some of the families’ possessions.
“Our children came to realize that possessions aren’t very important,” Sister Fox said. “If the families were OK, everything else would be OK. It unified the whole neighborhood, and all our neighbors found out we are members of the Church.”

I attended a seminary graduation in Omaha, Nebraska. The speaker, again a young man, described this experience.
“Each morning I awoke to the sweet voice of my mother calling out, ‘John, John, time to get ready for seminary!’ The year rolled on and the mornings grew cold and wet and dark; still the happy voice of Mother would sing out, ‘John, John, time to get up for seminary!’” Then he added, “I learned to hate that sound!”
But then, choking back the tears, he thanked his mother for what she had given him. And I think only later did he realize that she had to be up first every morning.

“Hurry up! I want to see the lions,” Billy said, tugging on his sister’s sleeve.
“I’m coming,” Helen said. She jumped off the bench and grabbed Billy’s hand. They trotted off to see the lions.
When they reached the lions’ cage, they saw a man holding a camera and a little notebook. Children were gathered around him. A lady introduced the man. “Children, this is Mr. Maier,” she said. “He is an author visiting from New Jersey.”
An author! Helen liked meeting new people, especially famous people from far away.
“I travel from place to place and write about what I see,” Mr. Maier told the children. “Do any of you have a question for me?”
Helen raised her hand high in the air. Mr. Maier asked her to come to the front of the crowd. Helen scooted through the crowd until she stood near Mr. Maier.
“What are you writing about today?” Helen asked.
“Today I’m writing about Utah,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
Helen felt her heart start to beat faster. What could she think of to tell a famous author?
“Well, I’m 10 years old,” Helen said. Then she paused. Surely she could think of something more important. “And I’m a Mormon,” she added.
“A Mormon?” he asked. “Tell me more.”
“Well, my great-great-grandfather was Brigham Young, one of the prophets of our Church,” Helen replied. “And this Church is the true faith.”
“Is it really?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “What is your religion?”
“I don’t have a religion,” Mr. Maier said.
Helen was surprised. “Why not?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “But maybe you can pray for me so I can be blessed too.”
“I can do that,” Helen said.
Then Helen got an idea. “Why don’t you get baptized in the true faith?”
Mr. Maier smiled. “That’s kind of you,” he said. “I think I would like to learn more about this faith first.”
When Mr. Maier returned home to New Jersey, he wrote a newspaper article about Helen. He called her a “zealous little Mormon girl.” He meant that she was enthusiastic and devoted to her faith. Mr. Maier was so impressed with Helen that he wrote to her and sent her copies of his books.
A few years later, Mr. Maier passed away. When Helen was older, she received permission from Mr. Maier’s family to have his temple work done. Thanks to Helen, a young man was baptized in the temple for Mr. Maier in the “true faith.”

My plan to make friends and integrate seamlessly into my new boarding school was working out as I had hoped—until the first Sunday morning when I hurried into the dining hall dressed in my suit and tie to grab a quick bite before heading to church. It felt like the room went silent as my peers, still wearing their pajamas, stopped eating and stared at me through their half-shut, sleepy eyes. I quickly realized that I was the only active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the school.
The Lord has said to Church members, “Arise and shine forth, that thy light may be a standard for the nations” (Doctrine and Covenants 115:5).
Without me saying a single word, news of my religion spread rapidly. I began receiving daily questions about my faith, which usually began with “Hey, you’re Matteo, the Mormon, right?” Most questions were genuine, some were jarring, others were malicious, and a few were simply comical.
One friend asked me sincerely, “Isn’t it true that you guys don’t eat oranges?” to which I jokingly responded, “Oh yeah, oranges are straight from the devil.” As we were both laughing, I realized that his initial apprehension eased, and we felt a stronger connection as friends.
Since I could not escape my newfound notoriety, I decided to create opportunities that would add laughter to potentially uncomfortable conversations. I took a chance and dressed up as a nametag-wearing missionary for Halloween (a costume holiday celebrated in October). I knew this was a risky endeavor as I could be completely ridiculed, but I had a feeling that doing so would show that I was sure of my beliefs.
The risk paid off. Walking around campus as a missionary made everyone smile and sparked lively role-playing sessions. I broke some stereotypes and made some new friends.
After Halloween, people’s attitudes toward me changed, and questions about my faith evolved into peers asking me for advice about their own lives. To my surprise, friends and acquaintances who had gotten over the initial shock of learning that I do not drink, smoke, or do drugs and that I am waiting to have sex until I’m married turned to me for guidance specifically on those topics.
I found myself reassuring friends who were feeling pressured into having sex that they had the power to choose, encouraging some to go to the school counselor to talk about mental health and addiction concerns, and even consoling someone who made a mistake that would likely lead to expulsion. I was baffled by the way many of my peers could transition from mocking me to seeking my advice.
Over time, I understood that being completely confident, open, and vulnerable about who I was drew others to me who were seeking a judgment-free space and a listening ear.
I am grateful for two of the many important lessons I learned that year. The first is that healthy laughter can dissolve apprehension and contention and is an excellent way to unify people. The second is that choosing to be confident in who you are brings remarkable opportunities to help others that would have never come otherwise.
There were many times when I wanted to hide my religion and be known for something else. But having a sense of humor and vulnerability about who I am allowed people to get to know me as Matteo, not just someone with different beliefs.
Elder Matteo Huish, age 18, Arizona, USA
Enjoys spartan races, family game nights, and performing music.
Elder Huish is currently serving in the Canada Toronto Mission, speaking Persian.

Miriam Vasquez, who facilitated the self-reliance course on personal finances attended by Gabriela Yoshida, agrees. When her husband was unable to attend her class, she brought the class and its principles home to him and their children.

“Before the class, my husband and I had different ideas about how to manage money,” she says. But once he grasped the principles she shared at home, they harmonized their financial goals as a couple and family.

“We asked the Lord for inspiration so that each week we could focus on what the program was asking us to do and so we could reach our goals,” Sister Vasquez says. “Our differences regarding how to manage money disappeared, and we grew spiritually because we were able to rid ourselves of some financial stress in our home.”

One of the principles that blesses all who take a self-reliance course is learning the importance of saving money and spending it wisely.

“I’ve been married 25 years, and I always thought I was supposed to pay my tithing, then my mortgage, and then my other expenses. If I had any money left over, I would save,” says Sister Vasquez. “When I facilitated the class, I realized that first you pay your tithing, then you save some, and then you pay for everything else. In less than a year, my husband and I were able to save for a dream vacation.”

I saw that diligence and heard that laughter when, late on a Saturday, I visited with a group of Latter-day Saints in Florida. The volunteers stopped their cleanup labor long enough to let me shake some hands. They said that 90 members of their stake in Georgia had created a plan to join in the rescue in Florida just the night before.
They left Georgia at 4:00 in the morning, drove for hours, worked through the day and into the night, and planned to labor again the next day.
They described it to me all with smiles and good humor. The only stress I sensed was that they wanted to stop being thanked so they could get back to work. The stake president had restarted his chain saw and was working on a downed tree and a bishop was moving tree limbs as we got into our vehicle to go to the next rescue team.

I grew up in a Latter-day Saint home with loving parents and a sister and brothers whom I adored. I was generally happy, but there were times when I struggled, not knowing who I was and questioning my purpose in life. During my late junior high years I had few friends at school and wondered if anyone really loved me.
One Sunday evening during this time, a youth fireside was held specifically for young women and their fathers. Throughout the meeting I thought about my life. I dreaded the coming week of school and couldn’t find one thing to look forward to. Consumed with my own thoughts, I was only half listening to the fireside speakers. I didn’t even realize the speakers had finished until the congregation began singing the closing song.
The words were familiar, but I had never paid attention to their meaning before. Walk tall, you’re a daughter, a child of God. I straightened up in my seat. I was a daughter of God. Be strong—please remember who you are. Why had I been questioning who I was? The answer was clear in the teachings of the gospel I had learned throughout my life. Try to understand, you’re part of His great plan. I was part of His plan. He had a mission for me if I would but follow His teachings and live righteously. He’s closer than you know—reach up, He’ll take your hand. I had felt alone in the world when all along my Father in Heaven was there beside me, waiting for me to reach up for His hand (see New Era, Jan. 1996, 10–11).
As I sang those words I was comforted by the knowledge that I was important. I was part of Heavenly Father’s plan, and He was by my side, ready and willing to help me every step of the way. I had known this my entire life but had somehow forgotten. The answer I was searching for and the lesson I needed to learn came to me through the words of a song.

Of great significance for the Church’s expanding missionary effort in Eastern Europe was the establishment of a mission in the DDR. In October 1988, President Monson, Elder Nelson, Elder Ringger, and several local priesthood leaders met with Chairman Erich Honecker to ask permission for missionaries to proselyte in the German Democratic Republic—and for missionaries to be called from the DDR to proselyte elsewhere.
In opening the meeting, Chairman Honecker said: “We know members of your Church believe in work; you’ve proven that. We know you believe in the family; you’ve demonstrated that. We know you are good citizens in whatever country you claim as home; we have observed that. The floor is yours. Make your desires known.”
President Monson’s presentation was simple, direct, and effective. Permission was granted, and on 30 March 1989 the first missionaries in 50 years entered the country and began to share the gospel. Two months later, the first missionaries to be called from the DDR left for service outside their country.5

In more mature reflection on that event, I realize that this letter was largely the result of a faithful, conscientious ward bishopric whose second counselor, assigned to the deacons quorum, frequently sat in council with us in our weekly quorum presidency planning meeting. He was always present for at least a portion of our weekly quorum meeting. Our quorum adviser was the kind of humble leader I envision the Savior trying to help Peter become as He admonished the soon-to-be prophet-leader of the Church, “Peter, when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren” (see Luke 22:32).
As we sat each Sunday morning in the dimly lit basement room of a nineteenth-century-built chapel, this great deacons quorum adviser poured out his heart to his young flock of eager youth. With pure love and plain words he told us of the folly of using harmful substances revealed by the Lord in the Word of Wisdom. He emphasized the need for us to be clean in body and mind in our personal lives and to be worthy to serve the Lord in the mission field. I remember that at appropriate times, with tears in his eyes, he would bear his humble testimony to the members of the deacons quorum of the divinity of the Savior and the prophetic mission of Joseph Smith.
He taught us faithfully that we were our brothers’ keepers and that the purpose of the quorum was to bless each member’s life. He emphasized that when we passed the sacrament or collected fast offerings or cut wood for widows living in the ward, we were doing just what the Lord would have us do. When one member of our quorum from a less-active family suffered a prolonged illness and could not attend priesthood meetings, we would go to his home, and he would there receive the weekly priesthood lesson and the fellowship of quorum members. When another less-active member, whose single parent was not a member of the Church, failed to attend, priesthood sessions were held in his home as well. Both of these young men in more recent years have blessed countless Church members as they have been called to positions of major responsibility.

As a young man, Ezra Taft Benson (or “T” as he was called) was an assistant Scoutmaster in Whitney Ward in Whitney, Idaho. One of his duties was to prepare a young men’s choir for a stake competition.
Ezra: Tenors, you’re a little bit flat.
They won and moved on to compete against winning groups from six other stakes. It was a big challenge for a small ward, but T knew how to inspire boys.
Ezra: If you win this competition, I’ll take you on a thirty-five-mile hike over the mountains to Bear Lake.
Scout: Hurray!
Scout: Let’s win it!
They sang their hearts out and finished in first place! A promise is a promise, and they met to plan the hike.
A promise is a promise, and they met to plan the hike.
Scout: Mr. Scoutmaster, I’d like to make a motion. We should all clip our hair off so we won’t be bothered with combs and brushes.
The motion passed, which was all right with T—until another Scout spoke up.
Scout: How about the Scoutmasters?
They all went to the barbershop together.
Barber: I’ll tell you what, T. If you and the Scoutmaster will let me shave you bald, I’ll cut everyone’s hair for free.
Twenty-four short-cropped boys with their bald Scoutmaster and his bald assistants had a wonderful time on the hike.
Ezra Taft Benson stayed in touch with those boys his whole life, inspiring them to make right choices.

Constructing the temple seemed nearly impossible. The Saints were so poor that they could barely afford to care for their own families. The magnificent temple cost about $40,000–$60,000 to build, a great sum of money in the 1830s! There were very few experienced builders among them, and none of them had ever built something as enormous as a temple. Also, enemies outside of the Church vowed that they would stop construction on the temple. But the Saints knew that they had been commanded by God to build it and that He would help them: “Verily I say unto you, it is my will that you should build a house. If you keep my commandments you shall have power to build it.” (D&C 95:11.)
The Saints set to work. Men spent one day each week in the stone quarry or on the temple site, and some of them guarded the unfinished temple at night to protect it from mobs. Women spun cloth to make clothing for the workers, and they made carpets and curtains for the temple. Glass and fine china were crushed and mixed with the plaster so that when the sun struck the temple’s outside walls, they glittered. Everyone labored and sacrificed for two and a half years until the temple was finished.

For many years we have been conducting a home Relief Society once a week in our small town in Spain. Since the majority who attend are women of other faiths, at first we avoided teaching the doctrinal lessons in the Relief Society manuals. But gradually we began including Spiritual Living lessons.
One morning I prayerfully searched for a topic that would inspire the women. “What should the women hear this week, Father?” I prayed.
Then I came across a lesson on prayer and fasting. I felt inspired that this one should be given, but I also wondered how the idea of fasting would come across to those who were not members of the Church. I decided to follow the inspiration, having learned long ago not to question the promptings of the Spirit.
The class went well, and many mistaken ideas and doubts were cleared up. The women began to understand that fasting, used together with prayer, is a powerful tool anyone can use. As I was leaving, a woman who rarely attended our meetings came up to me and asked, “Can I fast, too?”
“Why of course you can, Manoli,” I replied. “Anyone can fast, Heavenly Father makes no distinctions among his children.”
Manoli was visibly upset as she continued. “You see, my mother has been in a mental hospital for two years. She has become worse lately and doesn’t even recognize me or my sister. We feel so helpless going to see her. It hurts me so much to see her like that.”
I told Manoli I would begin a fast with her. We started with a prayer. As we got up from our knees, I explained that Heavenly Father always answers prayers and fasting, but in his time and in his way.
The next day Manoli’s sister told Manoli that the hospital staff had stopped giving their mother her regular sedatives because her condition had markedly improved. She was free from the agony she had experienced previously and was peacefully lying in bed. She died the following day, but Manoli was comforted by the assurance that her mother was still enjoying peace and freedom from pain.
I learned a great deal from this experience. I know that Heavenly Father had Manoli in mind when he inspired me to give a lesson that prepared two sisters for their mother’s death.

In 1867 young Brigham Thomas Higgs lived a block away from the temple on North Temple Street. B.T., as he was known by his family and friends, was nine years old when his father, Thomas, began working on the Tabernacle, which was being built next to the temple. B.T. and neighborhood friends could often be found at the Temple Block, delivering lunches or messages to brothers and fathers who worked on the Tabernacle or the Great Temple.
A few of the young boys even worked part-time with their dads at the Temple Block on the various construction projects there. B. T. used a wheelbarrow to deliver to the other workers the wooden pegs his father made for the Tabernacle rafters. There was always some cleaning up or moving of piles of lumber or tools for the young men to help with.
Henry Moyle, a curious young boy, could be found having lunch with his dad on almost any day at the Knox Carpenter Shop on the Temple Block. Known as the “Lunch-Bucket Brigade,” many of the young boys joined workmen gathered at the shop to discuss the topics of the day as they ate lunch together. Young Henry gladly took his father’s lunch to him and lingered as long as possible to listen to the conversation. Later, the young man helped his father, James Moyle, a stone mason, build the temple itself.
Henry and B. T. spent most of their after-school and after-chore time, however, playing ball or another game with friends on the nearby dusty streets. B.T.’s favorite game was “mumble-peg.”
A favorite game for all the young boys and girls in the neighborhood was hide-and-seek. The Temple Block was a perfect place to play this game because there were many large granite stones there to hide among. You could find B.T., Henry, and their brothers and sisters and friends playing among the huge stones on the warm days throughout the year.
Before the railroad came to Salt Lake City, the temple stones were brought to the Temple Block by ox teams from the quarry twenty-five miles south of the city. Annie Wells recalled seeing the “sight of the great stones one at a time being hauled along the streets by two yoke of oxen.” When the oxen slowly marched through town to the Temple Block with their “sacred load,” Annie, like other children, stood and watched them pass “with a feeling of awe and reverence,” praying for the day the temple would be completed. The children wanted to go into Heavenly Father’s house. They knew that they could be a “forever family” after they went to the temple.
When the railroad came to Utah, the oxen were no longer needed to make the long trip from the quarry to the Temple Block. A train line between Salt Lake City and the quarry brought the heavy stones right to the temple site in just a few hours instead of days, as before. The oxen were still used, however, to haul the granite stones down to the train station at the mouth of the canyon.
During hot summer months many mothers and fathers in the city took their children to the shaded groves and cool streams in the nearby canyons. One of the young boys, Joseph Fielding Smith—later a Church President—recalled watching the men loading stones there to be brought to the city for the temple. He remembered the “ox teams and how they tugged with their heavy loads” and that sometimes, when the loads were too heavy, the “rough-cut blocks skidded from the wagons.”
The Temple Block seemed to change every week or so as new stones were brought to the area. Everyone was always anxious to see what new hiding places could be found. As the stones were put in place, the temple walls reached higher and higher in the sky, and the children knew that the temple would soon be completed.
In order to finish the temple, the prophet Wilford Woodruff asked everyone to make special contributions to the temple fund. Even young children were encouraged to give whatever they could. Many children worked on holidays and gave all their earnings to the temple fund. Other children asked to do extra chores around the house in order to earn some money to give.
During this time, one young Primary boy was trying to earn enough money to buy something for himself. He found work at a neighbor’s farm. After working very hard, he was paid twenty-five cents—a lot of money in those days—for his efforts. He “clutched the coin and ran home” excitedly to show his father how much he had earned. “Pa, look what I have!” he proudly announced. “The next time you go to Provo,” he continued, “I can get a new pair of jeans with this money.”
His father reminded him of the prophet’s request for funds for the temple. “President Wilford Woodruff needs ten cents of this quarter for the Salt Lake Temple. Here, I’ll give you fifteen cents for the coin, and we’ll go together to give the dime to our bishop, who will send it to Salt Lake City.” The boy gladly took the money to the bishop so that he, too, could help build the temple.
It took the workers forty years to complete it. President Woodruff dedicated the temple on April 6, 1893, during the first dedication service. All children eight years and older were invited to attend special dedication sessions held in April. Many of the children felt a special spirit during these meetings in the temple, and several saw angels in the room, just as the children had seen angels at the Kirtland Temple’s dedication in 1836.
On Saturday, April 22, 1893, a special session for children under eight years of age was held so that many more Primary children could attend. Seven-year-old LeGrand Richards, later an Apostle, attended this session with his mother. He was impressed when he saw the prophet in the temple that day. He said later, “I always remembered exactly what President Woodruff looked like and what he wore on that day for the rest of my life.” Unlike his older sister, who saw an angel during an earlier dedication session, LeGrand said, “I looked around for angels, but I didn’t see any!”
Primary children were almost always present during the forty years of construction of the Salt Lake Temple. They all helped in some way to build the Great Temple. And during the dedication services, as many as fifteen thousand of them attended the special meetings—one hundred years ago.

At the beginning of each year, my family sets goals that we try to complete throughout the year. One of the goals I set was to read the scriptures every other night. I wasn’t doing very well for the first few months of the year. Usually when I get home from church I put my scriptures in the stairway. One day my mom said, “How can you complete your goal of reading the scriptures when they are sitting in the stairway?” So that night I read my scriptures. I have been reading them almost every night since then. They are a blessing, and I’m thankful for them. They give me the power to feel the Spirit and be happy.
Mathieu Q., age 8, Wisconsin

In 1988 I was struggling in my business. After I consulted with my stake president, my wife and I decided to sell the business and find other work. I followed numerous leads in pursuit of employment, but each one left my wife and me frustrated, heartbroken, and without a steady income.
After a year our funds were running low, and I felt weighed down by a burden that seemed unbearable. We had a son on a mission and six more children at home, and I felt that I was failing them.
One day while feeling this burden, I realized that I had been repeating a tune in my mind for several days. I soon realized that it was a hymn, and the Spirit comforted me as I recalled the lyrics:
Be thou humble in thy weakness, and the Lord thy God shall lead thee,
Shall lead thee by the hand and give thee answer to thy prayers.
(“Be Thou Humble,” Hymns, no. 130)
Instantly my burden seemed lifted, and I realized that Heavenly Father knew my situation. Although we struggled financially for several years, I felt comfort knowing that He would guide our decisions if we sought to do His will.
We moved to a new town and eventually acquired a new business. With the help of others, our family was able to buy a home and make the business successful.
Even though that financial challenge is now gone, I continue trying to listen when hymns come to mind. I have learned that Heavenly Father often answers my prayers through sacred music.
Warren C. Wassom, Idaho, USA

A grouchy neighbor became a friend to one family who chose to serve him rather than take offense. “We felt prompted to go over as a family and offer Mr. Sloan some service,” says the father. “We took him some homemade bread and washed his outside windows because they were hard for him to reach.
“The children claimed they had never seen him smile before. But they’ve seen that smile a lot since that day. Bobby, seven, collects Mr. Sloan’s mail for him every day after school. Susie, twelve, walks Mr. Sloan’s dog on a leash around the block. And Peter, fifteen, mows his lawn.
“Serving Mr. Sloan has taught our family to love him, and we think he has learned to love us.”