Gospel Story Finder

Few newlyweds honeymoon by camping out in the cold for two winter months. But the 18-year-old bride, Emily Abbott, and her new husband, Edward Bunker, had little choice. Right after John Taylor, then an Apostle, sealed them together as man and wife in Nauvoo, they fled west with hundreds of other Saints over frozen Mississippi River ice late in February 1846. As refugees, they camped in mud and snow day after day on their slow journey across Iowa.
At Garden Grove, Iowa, Edward managed to build a crude one-room log cabin. But its lack of windows or doors and its dirt floor certainly provided his new bride with much less than she was accustomed to. Emily, he well knew, had grown up with nice things. Her childhood home in Dansville, New York, was a prosperous home thanks to her father’s good income from a woolen mill he owned. Her parents sent her to a fine grammar school in the area.
When Emily was about ten, the family moved west to develop a 40-acre stretch of Illinois land. There they converted to Mormonism and soon moved to Nauvoo. Then in 1843 Emily’s father died, and to help provide for her mother and the five other children, teenage Emily found work in nearby homes. Hour after painstaking hour her tailoring work turned her into a fine seamstress. It was while tailoring that she met and then married Edward.
Life was not easy in their Garden Grove cabin community, so Edward ranged many miles distant to find odd jobs. He managed to bring home a little corn one time, some bacon another time. When he heard that the United States army wanted volunteers for the Mormon Battalion, he enlisted, hoping his army salary would pay for Emily’s trip west.
Off her new husband went, leaving Emily and her mother’s family to care for themselves until he returned. Within the year, by January 1847, poverty would teach the young wife a lasting lesson about pride.
Emily, an expert with needle and cloth, sometimes felt superior to those not dressed as well as she. One day she saw a young baby dressed in some glazed curtain material—bright shawl-type flower figures on a deep blue background. Curtain materials for a baby dress! She severely criticized the mother for not being able to provide better and vowed out loud: “I would not clothe my child in a dress like that, even if I could have it for nothing.”
But that January, when Emily gave birth to her own first baby, she had nothing to clothe him in. No one in the camp had anything she could buy to sew into baby clothes. No one, that is, except the poor mother she had criticized. The mother kindly said to her: “I have yet a few yards of the same material from which I made my baby’s dress. You are welcome to it.” Emily, swallowing her pride, accepted the curtain material and offered to pay for it. “No, I don’t want you to pay me for it,” the giver said. “I hope you need it so much that you’ll not shed tears over it and blame the Lord because you have no better.”
Emily did not complain about the curtain-cloth dress she made for her son. For a long time it was the only clothing the baby boy had.
When husband Edward returned from battalion duty after an 18-month absence, he got acquainted for the first time with his 11-month-old son. (But records do not tell us what the baby boy wore to meet his soldier-father.)
Years later, as the mother of 11 children, Emily often told the story of the curtain dress to her children to help them accept situations when money and earthly goods were lacking.

In those days of struggle for the Church in England, the missionaries took part in organized sports and choral singing, trying to create a new Church image. Elder Ashton decided to give both a try. “I don’t know how well I did in the ‘Millennial Chorus’ audition,” he chuckles. “They didn’t ask me to be the chorus.” But he was more successful in basketball. In fact, he was captain of the missionary team, the “Saints,” which won a grand national championship in Britain and an all-Europe championship at Lille, France.

It was mentioned that we should listen to our wives. They have qualities that we don’t have. In many cases womanly intuition should be listened to. When we were preparing to come down, my wife said, “Now, were we supposed to get anything in to the paper?”

I said, “No, they said they have all the information they need.”

She said, “I’ll bet they get it wrong.”

Sure enough, when we opened up the Church News, they had shorted us two children. For your information, we have a little Jennie Marie and a Viki Ann who came after Thomas, who was mentioned in the paper. I told Jean that I would set the record straight.

But I can’t say in words my appreciation for my wife and my children. Maybe just this: that I love her—I always have, and I always will and our children also.

Mom and Dad have called Hannah and her siblings for a family meeting.
Our Church leaders have asked us to prepare for emergencies. But we don’t have much extra money. We’ll have to make a sacrifice.
We’re giving up cereal for one month. We’ll use the money to buy supplies. OK?
What will we eat for breakfast?
Oatmeal! We have lots in our food storage.
Oatmeal? Blegh!
The next morning
Try mixing something in. I like raisins in mine.
*sigh* OK …
Day 1: Raisins
Gross!
Day 2: Banana
Yuck!
Day 3: Coconut
Ew!
Day 4: Berries
Nope!
Try this. It has apples, cinnamon, and brown sugar. It tastes like apple pie!
Mmm, that’s good! I’m having this tomorrow too.
I bought first aid supplies for our emergency kits yesterday. Thanks for being good sports. I know giving up your favorite cereal was a sacrifice.
I guess all this gloppy oatmeal was worth it.
Besides, it’s not so bad after all!

This story happened in the USA.
“Dad, can I get baptized when I am eight?” Keaton asked.
Dad looked up from the game they were playing. “It’s a big choice. Would it be better to wait until you’re 18?”
Keaton thought about it. “But I’m almost eight now. And 18 is so far away!”
Dad was quiet for a moment. He moved his game piece. “Why do you want to be baptized?”
“I love Jesus,” Keaton said. “And I want to follow Him.”
“That is a great reason to be baptized,” Dad said. He smiled. “I will support you if that’s what you choose. Whether you are eight or 18.”
Keaton wrapped his arms around Dad. “Thanks!”
Dad wasn’t a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But he still went to church with Keaton and Mom sometimes. And when Keaton gave talks or sang with the other Primary kids in sacrament meeting, Dad always came.
After their game ended, Keaton found Mom in the kitchen.
“Dad said I can be baptized when I am eight,” he said.
Mom grinned. “That’s so exciting! Have you thought about who you want to baptize you?”
Keaton set plates on the table. “Do you think Grandpa can?” Grandpa and Grandma were serving a mission in another city.
“We can ask,” Mom said.
After dinner, Keaton video called Grandpa and Grandma on Mom’s phone. After a few rings, their smiling faces filled the screen.
“Hi, Grandma! Hi Grandpa!” Keaton said. “Guess what? I’m going to be baptized for my birthday this year.”
“That’s wonderful!” Grandma said.
“Will you baptize me, Grandpa?” Keaton asked.
Grandpa’s smile got even bigger. “I would love to.”
When his baptism day came, Keaton was ready. Mom and Dad drove him to a small chapel near where Grandpa and Grandma were serving their mission.
Keaton and Grandpa were dressed in white clothes. They sat together while everyone sang. Then Mom said a prayer.
Next, Dad gave a talk. “When you are baptized, you promise to follow Jesus Christ and keep His commandments. He taught us to love one another. Love is the best way to live,” he said.
Keaton looked at the picture of Jesus Dad was holding.
“When we love others, it makes them feel cared for. It also helps us to be happy and have peace.” Dad looked straight at Keaton. “I’m proud of you today for promising to follow Jesus Christ. I hope your baptism always reminds you to love God and love others.”
Keaton gave Dad a big hug. Then he followed Grandpa into the small font. Keaton put one hand on Grandpa’s arm and the other in Grandpa’s hand. Grandpa said the words for the baptismal prayer. Then he helped lower Keaton into the water.
When Keaton came out of the water, he smiled. He did it! He had followed Jesus Christ. Soon, he would also be confirmed and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. Then he would be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Keaton was excited to keep his promise to remember Jesus and keep His commandments.
Keaton followed Jesus Christ’s example by being baptized! What’s one way you follow the Savior’s example?
Illustration by Alyssa Tallent

A few years ago, the company for which I worked transferred me and my family to Southern California. A few weeks before we moved, Arnold, a neighbor, told me a story that I will never forget.
One Saturday afternoon he saw our three-year-old son, Lawrence, in front of his house. Lawrence was down on his hands and knees searching for something in the gravel and along the sidewalk. When Arnold came outside to get the paper, he asked Lawrence what he was looking for. Lawrence told him that he had lost a nickel. Then Arnold went back inside his house to read the newspaper.
Several hours later when he looked outside again, Lawrence was still out there. It was beginning to get dark. Lawrence had taken off his shoes so he could rub his bare feet around with the hope that he could feel the nickel that had somehow escaped his sight.
Our neighbor went outside to offer his sympathy and then suggested, “Maybe you should go home and come back tomorrow when it’s lighter.”
Lawrence picked up his shoes, came home, and told his mother and me that he had lost his nickel. Later that evening when Lawrence went to bed his mother comforted him, “Maybe you can find your nickel tomorrow.”
The next morning when Arnold went to get the Sunday newspaper, Lawrence was in his pajamas searching in the grass.
“My, but you are up early this morning,” Arnold said. “Are you still looking for your lost nickel?”
Lawrence nodded his head and kept on looking.
A short time later, Lawrence came into the house and came to our bedroom and shook his mother. “I found my nickel,” he told her, his voice full of pleasure.
Hardly being awake, his mother answered sleepily, “Fine, Lawrence, go back to bed.”
I made the same kind of suggestion to him and he went downstairs to his own room.
Not long afterward the older boys and I got up and went to priesthood meeting. When we came home, Lawrence and the rest of the family were all ready to go to Sunday School. When we walked through the front door of the chapel, we met Arnold.
“Well, Lawrence, you must have found your nickel,” he said.
“Yes, it was my tithing saves,” Lawrence replied.
Arnold said he was humbled by a three-year-old boy who had taken a great deal of time to look for a nickel—not just to have his nickel but because it belonged to the Lord.
On the day we were ready to move, Arnold and his wife came to tell us good-bye and give us a package. I’ll never forget my feeling when we unwrapped the package and found inside a framed picture of a nickel pasted on a piece of white cardboard. Underneath the coin these words were written: The Lord’s Nickel.

In July 2001, Hoi Hoon was invited by the Hong Kong government to perform with other prominent gymnasts in the Chinese Gymnastic Gold Medalist Show. Then age 8, Hoi Hoon was the youngest participant.
All of the gymnasts were asked to attend a final rehearsal the Sunday before the performance. The Tam family knows it is important to keep the Sabbath Day holy, so Brother Tam told Hoi Hoon’s coach that Hoi Hoon would attend every other rehearsal—but not the one on Sunday. The coaches and officials were upset and thought about replacing Hoi Hoon with another boy. The Tam family would not change their minds, but they prayed every night in their family prayer that Hoi Hoon would be able to perform. In the end, the officials allowed him to be in the show. Even without the extra practice, Hoi Hoon did every movement perfectly. “I know that obeying the Lord is very important,” Hoi Hoon says.

Recently, I was visiting with a family member who is struggling with his faith because of some things he saw on the internet.
“If you can find something better than the gospel of Jesus Christ or that makes you happier than the gospel, then go after it,” I told him. “But I know from experience that there is nothing better or that makes us happier than the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
I told him that some people say God does not exist and that the gospel is not true, but they don’t earnestly seek the truth. And there are others like the father of King Lamoni, who was so eager to know God that he prayed, “Wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee” (see Alma 22:17–18).
Loving and not judging are vital when helping someone who struggles with difficult questions of faith. My family member said he wasn’t going to attend church anymore, but he didn’t stop attending. I think he kept attending because we share a close relationship, and he feels that I understand his doubts.

In another instance, a Laurel class president determined that she was going to fulfill her responsibility to activate a girl even though her leaders felt the situation was almost hopeless. Her bishop told her that because of some problems in the home and for other reasons, there was very little chance this girl would ever come to church. The other class members laughed when they learned helping this girl come back to church was to be one of the goals of their class president.

Nevertheless, she was determined to befriend this girl and enlisted the help of a neighbor girl as well. They began by saying “Hi” whenever they saw her and always stopping to visit for a minute. Then they started finding reasons to visit her. She was selected to be a member of the Booster Club for her high school wrestling team. The Laurel class president took her a flower and a note expressing congratulations. This process went on for three or four months. Finally, one Sunday the girl accepted an invitation to come to Sunday School. The next week she was there again, and that week she also attended Mutual. Because of her courage and faith, a young Laurel influenced one of her peers to take the first step toward activity in the Church.

The year 1931 was an important one for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the British Isles. On 2 June 1931, James and Elizabeth Wallis arrived in the British Mission to strengthen the Church and fulfil a unique mission. For decades, the Saints in the British Isles had been without a patriarch. Now, having been ordained a patriarch after the previous general conference in April, James had returned to the British Isles to pronounce patriarchal blessings on British members, on what was now his fifth mission for the Church.
James and Elizabeth were British converts. He had been baptised on 20 May 1877 in Chester, Cheshire, and she on 15 May 1876 in London. They had first met when working in the British Mission headquarters in Liverpool. It was here that James learned the trade of printing and had the opportunity to meet and work alongside Apostles and other senior Church leaders.
Soon, James was ordained a teacher, priest, and then elder in the Liverpool Branch. In 1879, the first international Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Association was established in Liverpool, and James was called to be its president. He would later serve as a branch president in various congregations and as a full-time missionary in Manchester, England.
After his release in 1881, the couple swiftly emigrated to Utah. Two months later, on 9 June 1881, they were married in the Endowment House, as the Salt Lake Temple had not yet been completed. Now, after raising a family, the couple were back on their native land. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary was celebrated a week after they arrived in the mission, where their love had begun in Liverpool.1 On the voyage over, they were accompanied by John and Leah Widstoe. John was an Apostle and was about to commence a term of service as the European Mission president.
The call to James to become a patriarch had come at the close of the annual general conference of 1931.2 On the afternoon of 6 April 1931, President Heber J. Grant had requested James to visit the First Presidency office, where he was called to serve a mission in the British Isles with his wife and be ordained a patriarch to bless the Saints there.3 During their time in England, Elizabeth was to serve on the Relief Society board of the European Mission, along with Leah Widstoe and others.4
In addition to his responsibilities as a travelling patriarch, James also served as the publicity director in the European Mission, and as the associate editor of the Millennial Star.5 His background in publishing and printing ideally suited him for trying to correct some of the misconceptions and prejudice that existed in the British press against the Latter-day Saints.
Based in London, the couple resided in various apartments, including 2 Doughty Street, the same street in which Charles Dickens had lived and worked. It was here that they could be found when not travelling, which was rare. “It was more expensive than we anticipated, but we will have to make up for it on the eating end”, he noted. During their two-year mission, the Wallis’ attended more than 70 district conferences and travelled thousands of miles visiting branches and other events. It was during their mission that London became a preferred location for mission headquarters, after eighty years of being in Liverpool. “You see”, James said to a reporter, “we bring from Utah over 2,000 young missionaries to England every year. These serve abroad for two years. We find it will be cheaper and more convenient in every way to ship them to London.”6 In many ways, James was one of the key pioneers of public affairs in the British Isles during the twentieth century, largely on account of his experience in publishing in Utah and his British connections.
The Wallis’ were kept busy. The autumn and winter district conferences of 1931 had proven to be remarkably busy. Of the first few months of their mission James wrote the following:
“The interest in Patriarchal blessings at the conferences was unbounded. This is shown in the large number who applied for them. There were a great many who could not be accommodated, due to insufficient time and for physical reasons. As it was, nearly six hundred blessings were given, and it will be another month or six weeks before all blessings will have been transcribed from the shorthand notes and copied in original form and mailed out to those to whom they were given. Much patience has had to be exercised in this respect, which is deeply appreciated by the Patriarch.”7
In many cases, there wasn’t enough time in a conference weekend for all the patriarchal blessings to be given. Separate arrangements often had to be made to accommodate those who couldn’t be seen.8
Caption Wallis 3: 48 Doughty Street (London home of Charles Dickens), London, sketch, an almost identical frontage as 2 Doughty Street.9
The ability to receive a patriarchal blessing was a profound opportunity for the British Saints, to strengthen their testimonies and better understand what it was the Lord would have them do. At a London district conference in 1932, Samuel Bantock, a seventy-three-year-old member, was filled with excitement. With tears in his eyes and a glowing face, he rushed up to President John Widstoe and whispered, “The Patriarch told me that my life’s offering was acceptable to the Lord. Think of it. The Lord is pleased with my humble efforts! I would rather know that than… possess all the riches or honour of earth.”10
With hands clasped together, the two men stood facing each other with tears in their eyes. Samuel had truly learned how to measure the values of life. Recalling the event, President Widstoe stated, “How many of the hundreds who in this land have received their patriarchal blessings during the last six months, place the true value upon them, as did this veteran soldier in the army of the Lord?”
The patriarchal blessing was of profound value and importance to Samuel, and he was filled with gratitude that he had the opportunity to receive it. He was one of the almost 1,400 members who received patriarchal blessings during the Wallis’ two-year mission. However, the work grew heavy and in March 1933, John B Stagg, a Lincolnshire-born missionary, was assigned to be the patriarch’s recording secretary.11 This extra support enabled the Wallises to continue their monumental assignment.
Across the country, the Wallises strengthened the Saints’ faith. At one conference, their talks were described as keeping “the audience spellbound with their convincing and forceful testimonies of the divinity of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.”12 Regularly they would share their early Church experiences and the testimonies they had gained.13 The Wallises would serve in whatever way they could. On one occasion, James was asked to conduct funeral services for a sister in the North London Branch, which he did, offering consoling remarks to those gathered.14
In his responsibilities as chair of the publicity committee, James was tireless in confronting errors and falsehoods, often by directly speaking to editors.15 Of one occasion, James related the stubbornness of some of the agitators and his desires for them to be honest in their publications:
“We made a personal visit to this editor and spent considerable time in an effort … to clear away the prejudice he had toward our people; and to show him the untruthfulness of the statements made in his article, [which] we took with us [as] unimpeachable evidence for this purpose. He emphatically told us there was nothing we could do or say or adduce that would change his attitude; that his mind was made up and that he was against our religion on general principles. He defended what he insisted was his right to attack us in any way he wanted to, in order to protect his patrons and friends.”16
While it proved difficult to win over some of the editors and media outlets, it did not take much to win over the Saints. Small acts of service went a long way. During a conference in Manchester, James travelled to Leigh to visit Sister Rachel Bentham Jones who had been bedridden for twenty-seven years. He gave her a blessing and then returned to the meeting.17
When it came to their nearing departure, the Saints were terribly sad as they loved the Wallises and all they had done while in the British Isles. Farewell parties were held, but the Lord had another work for this blessed couple to perform.18 Shortly after their return to the United States of America, the Wallises were once again called on a mission, this time to Canada, their sixth mission for the Church.19 As in Britain, James was to travel the Canada mission delivering patriarchal blessings. In a letter to the British Saints, the Wallises remarked, “We feel that we never can render service commensurate with the blessings which the Gospel has brought us, and the testimony we have been given of its divinity. We feel we have indeed been honoured of the Lord in being called to labour in His vineyard.”20
A few years later, on 22 August 1940, James passed away in the Church Administration Building in Salt Lake City, Utah. His passing was observed with much sadness by the British Mission on account of his great services in the gospel.21 The 1931 mission of James and Elizabeth stands out as a key moment in the lives of many British Saints in the early twentieth century.

But some activities are more of a challenge for Nolan. When he was a baby, he contracted spinal meningitis, a serious infection that can cause brain damage and paralysis. His illness caused him to have a stroke, and doctors weren’t sure if Nolan would be able to walk or talk when he grew older. Fortunately Nolan recovered, but he still has trouble using the right side of his body. He says, “Sometimes when I color and hold the paper with my right hand, it crumples the paper.” Sometimes he becomes frustrated, but he is learning to use his right hand more and more.

An acquaintance of mine used to live in a ward with some of the highest statistics in the Church—attendance was high, home teaching numbers were high, Primary children were always well behaved, ward dinners included fantastic food that members rarely spilled on the meetinghouse floor, and I think there were never any arguments at Church ball.

My friend and his wife were subsequently called on a mission. When they returned three years later, this couple was astonished to learn that during the time they were away serving, 11 marriages had ended in divorce.

Although the ward had every outward indication of faithfulness and strength, something unfortunate was happening in the hearts and lives of the members. And the troubling thing is that this situation is not unique. Such terrible and often unnecessary things happen when members of the Church become disengaged from gospel principles. They may appear on the outside to be disciples of Jesus Christ, but on the inside their hearts have separated from their Savior and His teachings. They have gradually turned away from the things of the Spirit and moved toward the things of the world.

Once-worthy priesthood holders start to tell themselves that the Church is a good thing for women and children but not for them. Or some are convinced that their busy schedules or unique circumstances make them exempt from the daily acts of devotion and service that would keep them close to the Spirit. In this age of self-justification and narcissism, it is easy to become quite creative at coming up with excuses for not regularly approaching God in prayer, procrastinating the study of the scriptures, avoiding Church meetings and family home evenings, or not paying an honest tithe and offerings.

My dear brethren, will you please look inside your hearts and ask the simple question: “Lord, is it I?”

One Christmas morning I woke early. To my joy, the tree was surrounded with presents. The excitement of discovering what treasures waited inside the wrapping paper made up for the lack of snow.
We were quite poor, and most Christmases were meager. We lived on a farm and always had chores to do, even on Christmas Day. Right after we opened our gifts, my father left to do his chores.
I was praying that my mom wouldn’t make me stop playing with my new race car set to do my chores. When my dad returned, he told me he had done our chores for us. I was excited to spend the entire day in the warm house.
He then said something to my mother about Blanche, an elderly widow down the street who was looking for firewood. That was my dad, always caring for others. It seemed like everybody in town depended on him.
The next thing I knew my father was asking my brothers and me if we wanted to get some wood with him. I couldn’t believe it. On Christmas? I knew that wood was the only way Blanche could cook her food and heat her house. But couldn’t someone else get her firewood? Couldn’t we wait until tomorrow? Or couldn’t we just take her a little from our woodpile? Surely she had enough wood to last until then. But no. My father wanted to go into the woods and get a whole truckload. I complained, but it didn’t do any good.
My dad was very good at getting his boys to help him, and we each had our jobs. My dad would run the chain saw, Grant, my next-to-oldest brother, would split the wood, I would load it into the truck, and another older brother Ron would stack the wood in the back of the truck.
Eager to get back to our toys, we all worked hard. Dad had cut a big tree, and we almost had it loaded. I thought we had plenty of wood, but my dad cut into another big tree.
“This is going to take forever,” I thought. “I’m cold and tired and want to play with my toys, and he is cutting down another tree.”
When we backed up to Blanche’s house and started unloading the wood, I couldn’t believe what I saw. There wasn’t a sliver of wood anywhere in her yard. The only thing she had left to burn was the house itself. I had been worried about losing time playing with my race cars while she was worried about freezing.
As we were unloading the wood, she came out of her house. My dad looked up and said, “Merry Christmas.” She started crying, and my dad got down from the truck to console her. I couldn’t fight back a few tears myself. I tried hard not to let it show, but then I noticed a tear in my brother’s eyes, too. My presents didn’t mean anything to me now. Being able to keep someone from freezing on Christmas Day meant much more to me than all the toys in the world.

In a 1929 American football game held in Pasadena, California, a player named Roy Riegels recovered a fumble and ran almost the length of the field toward the wrong goal line. He was tackled and brought down by one of his own teammates, thus preventing a score for the other team. He had lost his sense of direction in a moment of stress. His mistake cost his team a victory. He was a great player, but ever afterward he was remembered as the man who ran the wrong way.

When I was in my teenage years, we thought that my older brother wouldn’t get to serve a mission because the ward was allowed to send only one young man at a time on a mission. Everybody else had to be available for the military draft. But our bishop and stake president found out that they could send one more. So, they talked to my brother about it, and he came home and told my parents.

My father was a wonderful man, but he was not active in the Church. His response was negative—but for an unusual reason. He wasn’t critical of the Church or even of a mission, but my brother was preparing for medical school. My father said, “You’ve prepared yourself to go to medical school. You’ve taken the classes. You can do more good if you go to medical school than you can if you go on a mission.”

That evening, this faithful, wonderful brother of mine sat with me, and the two of us talked. We concluded that there were really three questions that would determine his response to our father. The first one was, “Was Jesus Christ the Savior of the world?” The second one was, “Is the Book of Mormon the word of God?” And the third one was, “Was Joseph Smith a prophet?” I realized that the answers to those three questions would affect almost every decision I would make for the rest of my life.

I had always loved the Savior and I had read the Book of Mormon, but realizing how significant those answers were, I prayed that night and received through the Holy Ghost a profound favorable answer to those questions. Jesus Christ is the Savior, the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and Joseph Smith was a prophet. I testify that these things are true.

There was, for example, the return trip from my second zone conference. We had transferred trains and were busy talking to a woman about the new temple in Freiberg when I noticed that the train had stopped in a city we shouldn’t have been in. We realized we had gotten on the wrong train and quickly jumped off. Unfortunately, the next train headed in the right direction would not pass through for another two hours, and our connection after that would be even later. Waiting in that train station, we had the chance to do some reading. “The Inconvenient Messiah,” an article by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, then president of Brigham Young University, appeared in the Ensign we had just received, and his thoughts seemed directed straight to me:
“And so I ask you to be patient in things of the Spirit. Perhaps your life has been different from mine, but I doubt it. … My mission was not easy. …
“… All but a prophetic few must go about God’s work in very quiet, very unspectacular ways. And as you labor to know him, and to know that he knows you; as you invest your time—and inconvenience—in quiet, unassuming service, you will indeed find that ‘his angels [have] charge concerning thee: and in their hands they shall bear thee up’ (Matt. 4:6). It may not come quickly. It probably won’t come quickly, but there is purpose in the time it takes. Cherish your spiritual burdens because God will converse with you through them and will use you to do his work if you will carry them well” (Tambuli, Mar. 1989, 23; Ensign, Feb. 1984, 70).

My experience in the mission field helped me understand those words, and the Spirit bore strong, penetrating, comforting witness to me of those truths in that lonely train station.

Our recent Gong family reunion included a fun talent show, complete with a dad jokes contest.
But this contest was unusual. On one team was Grandpa (me) and two of the grandchildren, ages 12 and 11. On the other team was an artificial intelligence (AI) program prompted by a cousin to tell dad jokes in the style of Gerrit W. Gong. Grandpa Gerrit Gong versus AI Gerrit Gong.
The grandchildren and I went first.
What do you call a dinosaur who crashes his car? Tyrannosaurus Wrecks.
AI Gerrit Gong was instructed—think like Gerrit W. Gong. Talk like him.
AI Gerrit Gong—“Here is a dad joke as if spoken by Gerrit W. Gong, embracing his warm, thoughtful, and uplifting style: Why did the humble tree make people smile? Because it was rooted in love and reached out with branches of kindness. Like that tree, we too can find strength in our roots and joy in extending kindness to others.”
Well, what do you think? That’s why they’re called dad jokes.

I really enjoyed the article “Michaela and the Marshmallows” (May 2009). I had a big argument with one of my closest friends, and I felt alone for weeks. When I sat down and read the article and this sentence: “Remember that no matter what you are going through, there will always be someone there for you,” my whole mind cleared up. Maybe nothing would change, but I knew things would get better.
Katherine S., Utah

When President Gordon B. Hinckley spoke to the Saints of Ghana in 1998, Adjoa Darkoa Asare-Addo, 11, was present. She stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” with undisguised joy. “The Holy Spirit was with me, and I knew that President Hinckley was a prophet of God,” she recalls.
When President Hinckley announced that a temple would be built in Accra, Adjoa was thrilled. “Temples are so important!” she explains. “That is where families are sealed forever.” She intends to be married in that temple someday.

James Henry Rollins, a refugee from the mobs in Missouri, moved his family to Nauvoo and sought the Prophet’s help: “I went with him to his store and he asked Newell K. Whitney if he had any work for me to do. He replied nothing that he knew of then, that he had sufficient help at present. Joseph said to me, ‘I have work for you’ and he took me thro in the back of the store and showed me about the cords of hickory wood. He asked me if I were a good hand with the axe. I laughed and said, ‘Well, some little.’ He said the clerks here were too shiftless to cut their own wood. I asked him if he had a sharp ax. He turned to Lorin Walker and said, ‘Get the ax for him. I want him to chop up this wood,’ which I did and piled it up the same day. The next day he came to the store and unbarred the outside cellar door and he would unlock it from the outside. When the doors were opened and then asked me if I thot I could straighten up things and I told him I would try and see what I could do.
“He was pleased with the change I had made with the appearance of the cellar. …
“… At this time a good deal of work was being done on the Temple which the workmen received orders for their labor on the store.
“It was very much crowded for two or three days, and as I stood in the counting room door looking at the faces in the house, there were a great many very familiar with me, and they came to me as they were waiting for their pay, asked me if I could wait on them. Joseph being in the store at the time said to me, ‘Why don’t you wait on these people.’ I told him when I was ordered I would do so with pleasure. He then said, ‘go and wait on them.’ I then went to work behind the counter on the grocery side and payed off many orders this day and the next, the store being crowded constantly and at least 50 to 100 people to be waited on from morning until night and being so very close with so many present was very oppressive to us all.
“When Joseph came in, and saw us looking tired and pale, he told us to shut up the store that night and not open again for two or three days, which we did until we got rested. Then opened again for business” (“A Sketch of the Life of James Henry Rollins,” Archives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City, 1888, pp. 11–12).