Gospel Story Finder

María Coj was a 17-year-old member of the Church in Guatemala, the oldest of eight children. She was sick with cysticercosis, a parasitic infection that comes from eating contaminated food, that with time spread to her brain, causing terrible headaches and then blindness. To give her relief from the pain, it was necessary to move her from her home in Sololá to Guatemala City. Because of convulsions caused by the advances of the illness, her condition worsened, and it was only with life-support systems that she was kept alive. It was evident that she could not live long under those conditions.
At this same time, Erika Alonzo, 12, a partially blind member of the Church, traveled 22 hours by bus from Honduras to Guatemala City to receive an eye operation. For two weeks she waited for a cornea from the United States to be transplanted to her eye, but none was available.
At this same time María died. Because her blindness was caused by pressure on her brain, her corneas were healthy. María’s father and mother authorized the cornea donation. The operation was a success.
On the 12th of July 1993, Erika traveled to Sololá to meet the Coj family for the first time. The surprised family asked her, “Can you see?” She answered, “I see everything clearly.” It was a spiritual meeting. Sister Coj, who did not understand much Spanish, because her native language is Cakchiqúel, felt the love and the spirit of the conversation. Because of the donation of María’s eyes, Erika can now see and enjoy everything around her. The death of one person and the love of her parents blessed the life of another. The medical miracle of one person being able to look through eyes of another is a surprising reality.

The stranger had a bushy beard as red as his hair. It was Christmas Eve when he knocked on the door, asking for food. We had not been outside all day. For weeks it had snowed almost every day, soft fluffy feathers that were fun to play in. Now the snow was up to the top of the fence and piled in high drifts, and the wind howled and sang around the corners of the house and under the eaves. Papa said it was a blizzard.
Mama had spent the day making the special food we had only at Christmas, and for days before that, she’d baked bread of all kinds, Christmas bread frosted with white icing, filled bird-shaped rolls, and cookies by the dozen. We had no gaily trimmed tree or other holiday decorations at our house, nor presents waiting to be opened. But the spirit of Christmas was in the air.
Besides Mama and Papa, there were four of us children. We were on our best behavior at this time of year. There was no arguing about toys or books or crayons—who could be grumpy or cross at Christmastime? All that day we watched Mama at the stove, our mouths watering as she fixed Christmas dinner. Christmas Eve was our big feast; there would be no cooking on Christmas Day. That was OK—the cupboard was filled with good things to eat already made.
Best of all was the candy. Instead of only one or two pieces, we could have almost as much as we wanted. There were hard candy that you could suck on for a long time, sweet raspberry-filled candy, candy canes, and homemade chocolate-covered nuts and raisins. In the evening we cracked nuts while sitting by the glowing red heater as the wind howled and slapped snow against the windows.
Grandma and Grandpa were across the ocean in Poland, so there was just the family at Christmas. When the knock sounded on the door as Mama was putting the food on the table, it was a big surprise. Who could be out in such weather on Christmas Eve?
The redheaded stranger stood at the door, and we hid behind Mama’s skirts. He had tattered clothes, and his hands and face were red with cold. Papa asked him to come in quickly and shut the door so as not to let in the cold. The stranger’s coat was covered with snow, and bits of snow clung to his beard.
It was easy to see that he was hungry. Papa told him that we were just getting ready to sit down to eat dinner and that he was welcome to join us. Mama pushed the chairs closer together to make room for him. The stranger’s eyes were watery, like he was crying.
Papa said the blessing, and Mama passed the bowls of soup. We were extra quiet during dinner. Only Papa and the stranger talked, but not very much. The redheaded stranger was busy eating and hardly looked up from his plate.
As I watched him, I wondered why he was out in a blizzard. Didn’t he have a family or a warm house? He didn’t live here, I knew. We lived in a very small town, and everybody knew everyone else, and this fellow was a stranger, for sure.
Papa said we were having a depression. We didn’t understand much about it except that many people had no food and no job. Men wandered from town to town, looking for work, and many passed by our house. We lived between the railroad tracks and the highway, and in the summer we saw them walking by on the road. Some came asking for food, and Mama always gave them something, even if it was only a piece of bread and jelly. She made the best bread in the world, and the jam was from the chokecherries we picked in the summer. They were bitter to eat, but Mama made jelly from the berries, and on pancakes it was better than syrup.
Although he scared me with his red hair and beard, I felt sorry for the stranger. So did we all. Just looking at him made me want to cry. Mama always said we mustn’t stare at people, and I tried not to. It was hard to do.
Our Christmas Eve dinner was splendid, the best food I could think of. After the soup came the boiled wheat—red Durham, grown on the prairie farms around us. It was my favorite part of the dinner, but we could have only one small bowlful. Papa said it would grow inside us if we ate too much. I was pretty sure he was teasing, but I didn’t ask for more, just in case.
Then we had fish—a whole one Mama had baked with stuffing inside. It took a long time to eat because we had to be very careful not to swallow any bones. Next we had stuffed cabbage rolls and small boiled dumplings filled with mashed potatoes. And we had pickles and beets, which had been preserved right from Mama’s garden. For dessert there was Christmas bread as sweet and light as cake.
After dinner, while the redheaded stranger talked with Papa by the stove, we children helped Mama clear the table. I asked Mama where the stranger would go. I knew that he couldn’t stay here overnight. We had a very small house, and when we slept, every corner of it was full. Mama looked at me sadly and said she didn’t know.
I finished helping with the dishes and was going over to sit close to Papa, when the redheaded stranger got up to leave. Papa gave him a pair of mittens for his hands. The stranger said, “Thank you. God bless you. God bless all of you.” I think his eyes showed even more than his words how he felt. Then he left.
I was glad to see that the storm had let up. Only a few snowflakes continued to gently fall. I tried to see where he went, but the windows were covered with frost and I couldn’t. “Where will he go?” I asked Papa.
“He has a cousin who lives on a farm on the far side of the next town. He hopes his cousin will let him stay and work on the farm until times are better.” I hoped so too.
The next day, Christmas Day, was Sunday. The storm was over, and the sun was shining so bright that it hurt your eyes. The snow sparkled like diamonds and crunched under our feet as we walked to church. Looking at the Baby Jesus in the manger in the foyer, I whispered, “Happy Birthday, Jesus.” Then I prayed, “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for a wonderful dinner last night. Please help the redheaded stranger find his cousin and have a good home there. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

Damián looked through his backpack to see that he had what he needed. Church clothes? Check. Shoes? Check. Book of Mormon? Check. He zipped up his backpack, put it over his shoulder, and headed for the door.
“Mamá!” Damián called. “I’m going to Abuela and Abuelo’s!”
Mamá was folding towels. “Be sure to help your grandparents.” She stopped to give Damián a big hug. “I know you like to go to church with them. Have a nice time tomorrow.”
“I will!” said Damián. But I wish you would come with me, he thought.
Damián walked to the bus stop. Every Saturday, he took the bus across his town in Ecuador to Abuela and Abuelo’s house. He stayed the night with them. Then he went to church with them the next day.
On Sunday morning, Damián got dressed for church. He buttoned his shirt. He put on his shoes. Then he walked to church with Abuela and Abuelo.
Damián liked church. He liked to sing the songs and take the sacrament. He liked to see his friends too. But he wished the rest of his family was with him.
That afternoon, Damián, Abuela, and Abuelo walked over to Brother and Sister Ruiz’s house. They were going to have home evening together. Abuela brought a dish of flan for dessert.
The lesson was about Jesus. Damián colored a picture of Jesus while he listened to the lesson. “Jesus understands everything we feel,” Brother Ruiz said. “Even when we feel sad.”
Damián looked at his picture of Jesus. It made him happy that Jesus knew how he felt.
After the closing prayer, Abuela said, “I brought flan. Who wants some?”
“Me!” Damián said. The creamy, sweet dessert was Damián’s favorite! And Abuela made the best flan.
After home evening, Abuela walked with Damián to the bus stop so he could go home. Damián looked down at the ground.
“Is something wrong?” Abuela asked.
Damián frowned. “I wish the rest of my family came to church with us.”
“Me too,” Abuela said. She gave Damián a hug. “But your family loves you very much. And so do Abuelo and I and many others!”
The bus pulled up. Damián sat by the window and waved to Abuela as the bus drove away.
Damián thought about what Abuela had said. He thought about Mamá and his brother and sister. He knew they loved him so much. Then he thought about his Primary teacher. And the Ruiz family. And Abuela and Abuelo. They all loved him too.
Most of all, Damián knew Heavenly Father and Jesus loved him. And that made him feel not so lonely anymore

Many years ago, soon after I was baptized, I heard a sister testify in sacrament meeting of the feelings she had while doing family history work. Suddenly I began to cry like a child. At the time I didn’t know what was happening to me. I later learned that the Lord was testifying to me through the Spirit that what the sister was saying was true and that I needed to do family history and temple work for my own ancestors.

When I left high school, my goals were to attend college for at least a couple of years, get married to a handsome man, and have four perfect, beautiful children (two boys and two girls). My husband was to have a large income so I wouldn’t need to work, and then I planned to do Church and community service. Thankfully, one of my goals was to be an active and faithful member of the Church.

Well, as you may know, many of my goals were not realized in the way I had hoped. I finished college, served a mission, got a job, continued on with my schooling to earn a master’s degree, and continued working in my profession for many years. (I thought marriage was sure to happen 13 years ago when I opened a fortune cookie and read, “You will be married in less than a year.”) But there was no handsome man, no marriage, and no children. Nothing had gone as I had planned except for one thing. I tried to be an active and faithful member of the Church. For this I am most grateful. It has made all the difference in my life.

I had the opportunity to serve many years in Young Women and felt that gave me an opportunity to teach and testify to younger women who were developing their testimonies and seeking to progress in God’s appointed way.

I also had the opportunity to serve in Relief Society callings, which helped me to learn to serve others and increase my faith and gave me a great feeling of belonging. Even though I wasn’t married and had no children, I felt my life had meaning. There were times of discouragement, and at times I questioned the plan.

One work colleague who was not a member of our Church said to me, “Why do you continue to go to a church that puts so much emphasis on marriage and families?” My simple answer to her was, “Because it is true!” I can be just as single and just as childless outside of the Church. But with the Church and gospel of Jesus Christ in my life, I found happiness and I knew I was on the path the Savior would have me follow. I found joy and many opportunities to serve, to love, and to grow.

I wasn’t sure what to do that afternoon in my 14th year. I was backed up against the outside wall of my school, and a bully was hitting me. Since I was surrounded by half a dozen of his friends, I decided to take the blows.
He punched me, then kicked me. Many times.
Finally he and his friends left. My bus came, and I climbed aboard. I didn’t raise my head until the bus pulled up to my stop. Even 50 years later, I still wonder if I acted out of cowardice or Christian forbearance.
This experience underscores some puzzling questions we face as Latter-day Saints. When our beliefs are attacked, do we fight, flee, or just take the blows?
The Savior’s words seem clear: “Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also” (Matthew 5:39). I’ve often wondered, Was Jesus simply using a metaphor to teach His followers not to respond to insults with bloody retaliation, as was the usual practice? Perhaps.
And yet, consider the counsel in the Doctrine and Covenants.
In 1833 the Church was facing intense persecution, especially in Missouri. In defense of their lives, Church members took up arms. At that point, the Lord revealed section 98. In it, He taught them to forbear—within limits. They had a right to defend themselves, but if they refrained, He would reward them. If the offenders sought forgiveness, the Saints were to forgive “seventy times seven” (verse 40). As for going to battle, they were to first sue for peace and engage only if the Lord commanded it.
Times have changed since those terrible days, but in some ways the Church remains under attack. Our doctrine is generally misunderstood. Uninformed assumptions, illogical accusations, and outright lies are passed around as truth.
What are we to do? As disciples who strive to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9), we must do something. We can’t run. So do we fight or just take the blows?
In such matters, we can look to the prophets. In recent general conferences, I’ve noted a number of talks explaining the Church’s position on controversial issues. The speakers don’t castigate, but neither do they capitulate. Often they seek common ground with those who disagree with us. They are respectful. They try to understand and be understood.1
There may be times when the only choice is to fight, flee, or take the blows. But often we have a better option. We can reach out in love, as Jesus and His Apostles do.

Having entered the university’s medical school in 1944, Russell completed the four-year course in three years. Then followed an internship at the University of Minnesota Hospital where, in addition to the normal surgical training, he began a program leading to the Ph.D. degree. He also became part of a team that received a five-year research grant to develop a machine that would take over the functions of a patient’s heart and lungs while the heart was being surgically repaired. The challenges were enormous, but after nearly three years of labor it was ready for use. In 1951 it was used for the first time in an open-heart operation on a human being.

Learning to Be a Southerner
Lana Gabrylczyk, 18, Sevierville Branch
When I first moved here, I didn’t think I would ever pick up the accent. Now I live with my mom in a true Tennessee holler. I really picked up the accent. When I went back to Idaho to visit, my friends there all laughed. I would say, “Hey, what ya’ll doing tonight?” They would answer, “We all aren’t doing anything tonight.” They teased me about saying “ya’ll.”
I’ve learned to make biscuits and gravy. There is an old lady that lives at the end of Mom’s holler. I called her one day and said, “Cora, how do you make biscuits?”
She said, “Take about a cup of milk.” Then she kept telling me a pinch of this and a scoop of that.
I asked her, “How much is that?”
She said, “As much as you want.” I just threw up my hands. I finally had to go visit and watch her, but mine still don’t turn out as good as hers.

Susan: “For a while, any contact my husband, Tim, had with the Church was very stressful for me. I was constantly praying that someone would say the thing that would open his eyes and that no one would do or say anything that would offend him.

“Five years passed before I finally realized that during my own investigation of the Church, no one had smoothed the way for me or prepared every personality for my benefit. There had been unsettling experiences for me now and again; but through it all, I had retained my agency. When I decided to be baptized, I did so because I knew through prayer and study that the Church was true.

“Now I have accepted the fact that my husband is capable of making the same mature investigation of the Church whenever he is ready.”

Nina Lyn Oliver is a young woman who cares a lot about her country and her community.
The 17-year-old from West Jordan, Utah, knew that when war broke out in the Persian Gulf, there would be a lot of turmoil and concern. She wanted to do something to comfort families that were torn apart, as well as to support those serving overseas.
“Nina Lyn is a get-things-done kind of person,” comments her mother, Pat Oliver. “She got this idea and away she went!”
First of all, Nina Lyn and her sisters canvassed the entire ward community (approximately 200 homes) in the West Jordan 66th Ward, West Jordan Stake, and asked each neighbor, both LDS and non-LDS, if they’d like a yellow ribbon decoration for their mailbox or door in support of the troops. “The response was remarkable. Only one family did not wish to participate,” comments Nina Lyn.
Next, Nina Lyn and her mom blitzed several fabric stores and bought up 500 yards of yellow ribbon. “We cleaned them out!” she laughs. The neighbors shared in the costs. “They were very generous,” Nina Lyn comments.
Along with more help from her mom and her three sisters, Heidi, 15, Julie, 13, and Mandi, 11, and her two brothers, Brant, 9, and Mark, 6, Nina Lyn plunged into her ambitious project. Everyone worked all day on Saturday, and on Sunday evening, six of the Beehives and four of the Laurels in her ward’s Young Women program pitched in and helped, too.
Early Monday morning, on Human Rights Day, Nina Lyn and her family members set out in freezing snow flurries and high winds to tie the yellow ribbons on mailboxes and doors throughout their neighborhood. “It was a challenge,” comments Nina Lyn, “but on occasion the weather was kind of nice to us.” Several hours later, they returned home chilled to the bone and with fingers sore from tying on the bows with wire fasteners. The entire project from start to finish took over 100 hours of work.
Where did Nina Lyn get her idea? “My dad, Klare Oliver, is in the army reserves, and although he doesn’t have to go to war because he is diabetic, it’s important to me to support the troops—to be patriotic. They are carrying out their responsibilities to our country and helping others to have their freedom. I believe it’s important that we all support them. And the yellow ribbons are a way of showing this.”
Nina Lyn is a senior at West Jordan High School. “She is highly motivated and a bundle of energy,” comments her mom. Nina Lyn’s alarm clock goes off every morning at five o’clock so she can attend early-morning seminary. She sings with the concert choir and madrigals, and plays viola in the orchestra. She also teaches 15 piano students through the week. Nina Lyn is a member of the Peer-Leadership team, which is teens against drug and alcohol abuse. “I keep busy to make life fun,” she says with a smile.
Nearly every hour of every week in Nina Lyn’s life is accounted for, and yet during a crisis she took time out of her hectic schedule to involve herself, her family, and her neighbors in a show of patriotic support.

Over the years the Thomas brothers of the Hyderabad Fourth Branch have done a lot to set good examples for each other. As teenagers, they became members of the Church at the same time. They worked together to encourage their mother until she also joined the Church. Both brothers served in the India Bangalore Mission. Both helped comfort their mother when their father passed away. And both recently married.
Now Rejjie and his wife, Metilda, have been sealed in the temple, and Rennie and his wife, Keerthi, following their good example, soon will be.
“From the time I joined the Church, it has been a process of changing and improving, learning the plan of salvation and following it,” Rejjie says. “But the actual goal is to go back and live with Heavenly Father, our loving Father, who wants us to come back to Him so much that He gave us a Savior, His Son, Jesus Christ, to save us from sin and everlasting death. I’m grateful that the gospel of Jesus Christ changed me and my family, and going to the temple is the culmination of all of that.”
Rejjie explains that one of the challenges he and Metilda faced in getting their parents’ approval for marriage was that they are from different regions and speak different dialects. “But in the temple there are no differences,” he says, “and that was a great reminder for us.” He feels the future of India belongs to the young. “We are the ones who are going to make a difference,” he says, looking at Metilda. “That’s the kind of vision we both have. We need to conduct family home evenings, have family scripture study and family prayer, and stay focused on the temple. That is our future.”
Metilda agrees: “When I ask him how he can be so understanding and loving, he says it is because the gospel makes him better. On his mission he saw the example of the mission president treating his wife with respect and love. And in the temple we see that same pattern. As we show that same pattern in our lives and someday to our children, that influence will strengthen the Church in India.”

Two weeks after my 16th birthday my family moved to North Africa. This was not my idea of fun, and I suspected my parents of plotting the entire thing just to make me miserable. The driving age in Morocco is 18, so I wouldn’t be getting a driver’s license, and the school I would be attending had no newspaper or track team—the two things I enjoyed doing. Worst of all, in my junior class at the international school, there were 11 girls and only 3 boys. It was going to be a long year.
At home I had a big group of friends. We went to church and acted like we were doing what was right. But on the weekends we went to parties together, and we sometimes did things I knew weren’t right. I felt torn apart, wanting to keep myself clean, but also wanting to prove that I could do what I wanted. That feeling hadn’t gone away when we moved.
After we’d been in Morocco about a week, I started to make a few friends. My new friend Amy wasn’t a member of the Church, but she was different. She didn’t just pretend to do what was right; she did it. She didn’t seem to have anything to prove. Angie and Lisa, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide the wrong things that they did. There is no legal drinking age in Morocco, and they took advantage of it. They were having a party at Lisa’s house that weekend, and I was invited.
After my first day of class at my new school, I met the cutest guy I’ve ever seen.
“Are you Rebecca?” he asked as he walked toward me. My heart was beating loud and fast, but I managed to say yes.
“I’m Tony. I hear you’re a Mormon.”
I nodded, wondering what this was all about.
“Are you a real Mormon?” he asked, “or do you just go to church because your parents make you?”
I fumbled with my backpack and said, “I don’t know.”
“Well, when you figure it out, let me know,” he said. Then he left.
I didn’t go to the party at Lisa’s house that weekend. My mom said she needed help unpacking, so I stayed home opening boxes and hanging up clothes.
After I had worked for a while, I stopped my chores and told my mom that I needed a break. I went outside to think.
I walked outside the wall around our house where there was a dusty dirt road that shepherds walked down every morning and evening, taking their sheep and goats to pasture. I soon came to a field where garbage had been burned. A tangerine peel lay in the road, and I angrily kicked it into the grass. Why do I have to be here? I wondered. Why does anything ever have to change? Why does life have to be so hard?
I thought about Tony and his question. What did he want me to say? Am I a real Mormon? Who do I want to be? Would he ever think about dating me if I said I was a real Mormon?
As I turned the corner to go back home, I saw something that made me stop. Across the street, in the middle of an empty field, stood a beautiful little tree. It was not much taller than I was, and its leaves and branches were thin and delicate.
I looked at that tree for a long time. I thought about the parties I had gone to in the States and the things I had done. I thought about the choices I needed to make and about who I wanted to be. I thought about standing alone, sort of like that tree.
It was two weeks before I talked to Tony again. He found me serving refreshments in the school gym on parents’ night. Because parents were invited, wine was being served along with soda and punch.
“So, Rebecca, I brought you a drink,” Tony said. “A toast to a new school year.” He held out a plastic cup half filled with wine.
My heart started pounding again.
“No thanks, Tony. How about a doughnut?”
“No thanks? I bring you a drink, and you don’t want it? Why? Are you afraid your parents will find out?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid you won’t be a real Mormon? Don’t worry, no one in your church will find out.”
I looked down at the table and then up at Tony. “I am a real Mormon. This doesn’t have anything to do with my parents. I just don’t want to.”
Tony looked disgusted. “Well, that’s too bad,” he said. “We could have had fun together.” He dropped the cup into the trash can and walked off. I watched him go and then leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh.
I didn’t have many dates that year, although Tony let me know that if I changed my mind he’d be happy to take me out. But I had a great year anyway. Amy and I got to know some of our Moroccan neighbors, and although we didn’t speak French or Arabic very well, we had a good time laughing together. I went to the prom that year with my brother (he turned out to be a great dancer).
It’s not easy feeling left out, but I felt so good about my decision to be a “real Mormon.” I felt more happy and peaceful than I had in a long time.
I was learning to stand alone.

When a commercial came on the radio that started saying the Lord’s name in vain, my mom turned the station as quickly as she could. It bothered us a lot that they would use the Lord’s name in that way. We wrote a letter to the advertiser telling them we were offended about how they used the Lord’s name. They wrote back and apologized. Within a few days, the commercial was changed.
Gavin Z., age 7, California

Ammon sighed as he and Dad left the soccer game. “I don’t get it,” he said. “We have so many good players. Why can’t we score?”
Dad was a good soccer player. Maybe he could help.
“I think you need to learn to work as a team,” Dad said. “You all want to score goals, right?”
“Yes,” Ammon said. “But we can’t all be the one to score. Is that what you mean?”
Dad nodded. “You can’t score a goal on your own. First the defenders need to take the ball from the other team, right?”
Ammon laughed. “It’s pretty hard to score if you don’t have the ball.”
“Right,” Dad said. “Then the defenders give it to someone who can score. No one can do it alone.”
“I guess,” Ammon said.
When they got home, Mom was holding the baby while she made dinner. “How was the game?” she asked.
“We lost again,” Ammon said. “But we’ll do better next time.”
“That’s a good attitude,” Mom said.
“I’m starving!” Lorrin shouted as he, Seth, and Spencer ran in.
“Boys, can you help set the table and put the toys away?” Mom asked.
All four boys groaned.
“But I didn’t play with the toys,” Seth said.
“It will take forever!” Lorrin wailed.
Dad laughed. “I think our family has the same problem as Ammon’s team.”
“What’s that?” Seth asked.
“We aren’t working together,” Ammon said. “We all want to score a goal by eating dinner. But we’re leaving it all to Mom.”
“Right!” Dad said. “How can we work as a team?”
Ammon had an idea. “What if Seth and I set the table? The other boys can pick up the toys.”
“Great idea!” Dad said.
Soon dinner was ready. Ammon folded his arms for prayer. He was glad his family had worked as a team. He hoped his soccer team could do the same thing.

Almost a year into her mission, Sister Berry was transferred to Macau island, which had eight missionaries serving there at a time.
The protests had calmed down, and the work continued and progressed as new missionaries were finally arriving. However, after one transfer, the mission received direction from President Phillips, who felt it was best to remain inside until further notice and leave only for food shopping and exercise, and work within their apartments, due to a virus outbreak.
After staying in for around ten days, Macau’s missionaries received a phone call from President Phillips to pack up like it was transfer day and head back to Hong Kong.
President and Sister Phillips warmly greeted all eight of the missionaries and then helped move them into a temporary apartment for the night.
The following morning, all the missionaries within the China Hong Kong Mission received a text message from President and Sister Phillips with the code word ‘Jell-O-nation’ and expressing their love. He said that all the missionaries would sadly need to evacuate Hong Kong that night.
The missionaries were confused at first, as they thought the evacuation plan put in place seven months earlier was to help assist in case of social unrest. It became clear that the plan was preparing the mission for a more significant storm ahead, the COVID-19 outbreak.
The entire mission headed to the mission office that night and said goodbyes to their cherished mission president and companions. Each group headed off to the airport in coaches, ready to fly to their home countries to continue their missionary service.
Due to the ‘Jell-O-nation’ plan, over 100 missionaries evacuated Hong Kong and returned home safely within 24 hours.

When I was little, my family and I had many financial trials that lasted until I was about 10 years old. My dad couldn’t find other work, so he worked as a street vendor and earned very little. My mother stayed home to care for me and my younger brother.
But even going through so many tribulations, we had a testimony of paying tithing and giving other offerings. We faithfully paid our tithing every month and never lacked anything. We know with certainty that we were continually blessed because of the Lord’s infinite kindness and because He keeps His promises when we are obedient to His commandments.
Our days of financial trial finally ended. The blessings that the Lord has given us in these last few years have been amazing.
I know that for those who faithfully pay tithing and pay their offerings in love with the goal of blessing the lives of others, nothing will lack and something even better can happen, as with me and my family. The blessings will increase. I know this. I lived this.

The first day of his mission, Samuel walked 25 miles (40 km). He visited four homes, but no one wanted to buy a copy of the Book of Mormon. Hungry, tired, and discouraged, he stopped that night at an inn. Samuel asked the innkeeper if he would like to buy a copy of the Book of Mormon.
“I do not know,” said the innkeeper. “How did you get hold of it?”
“It was translated by my brother, from some gold plates that he found buried in the earth,” Samuel explained.
“You liar! Get out of my house—you shan’t stay one minute with your books,” said the innkeeper. So the Church’s first missionary slept that night under an apple tree on the cold, damp ground.
The next morning Samuel gave a copy of the Book of Mormon to a poor widow who fed him breakfast. Then he walked 8 miles (13 km) and shared the Book of Mormon with John Greene, a Methodist minister, who took it only to see if others he knew might be interested in buying a copy. Mr. Greene’s wife, Rhoda, was Brigham Young’s sister, but Brigham had not yet been introduced to the Church.
When Samuel returned to the Greenes’ home in two weeks, he learned that Mr. Greene hadn’t found anyone who was interested in the Book of Mormon. So Samuel agreed to return in a few months. When he did, Mr. Greene wasn’t home, but Mrs. Greene told Samuel that she had read the book “and was much pleased with it.” The Spirit prompted Samuel to leave the book with her. She was so grateful “she burst into tears.” Samuel then “explained to her the most profitable manner of reading the book … which was, to ask God, when she read it, for a testimony of the truth of what she had read, and she would receive the Spirit of God, which would enable her to discern the things of God.”
Later Mrs. Greene urged her husband to read the Book of Mormon too. He did, and they were soon baptized.
In 1830 Samuel also sold a copy of the Book of Mormon to Brigham Young’s brother: Phinehas (or Phineas) Young, a Methodist preacher. When he first met Samuel, Phinehas was returning home on horseback from his preaching circuit. He had stopped at a farm for dinner. As he and the family were visiting, a young man, dressed in rough clothes, entered the room. Book in hand, the young man said to Phinehas, “There’s a book, sir, I wish you to read.”
“Pray, sir, what book have you?” Phinehas asked.
“The Book of Mormon, or, as it is called by some, the Golden Bible.”
“Ah, so then it purports to be a revelation?” Phinehas asked.
The young man opened the book to the testimonies of the Three and Eight Witnesses and said, “Here is the testimony of the witnesses to the truth of the book.”
Phinehas read their testimonies. When Phinehas looked up from his reading, the young man said, “If you will read this book with a prayerful heart and ask God to give you a witness, you will know the truth of the work.”
Phinehas promised to read the book. Then he asked the young man’s name.
“My name is Samuel H. Smith.”
Phinehas had seen that name! “Then you are one of the witnesses.”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “I know the book is a revelation from God, translated by the power of the Holy Ghost, and that my brother, Joseph Smith, Jr., is a Prophet, Seer, and Revelator.”
After arriving home Phinehas told his wife, “I have got a book here called the Book of Mormon, and it is said to be a revelation, and I wish to read it and make myself acquainted with its errors, so I can expose them to the world.”
True to his promise, he read the Book of Mormon—twice in two weeks. Rather than finding any errors, he became convinced the book was true. On Sunday, when his congregation asked for his opinion of the book, “he defended it for ten minutes, when suddenly the Spirit of God came on him with such force that in a marvelous manner he spoke at great length on the importance of it. … He closed by telling the people that he believed the book.”
That summer, the Young family, including Brigham, and their friends the Kimballs read the Book of Mormon and believed it.
The first official latter-day missionary baptized no one and shared only a few copies of the Book of Mormon. Samuel didn’t know then that two of those copies would bring into the Church many faithful members, including Brigham Young, who presided over the Church from 1844 to 1877, and Heber C. Kimball, an Apostle from 1835 to 1868.
Like Samuel, you can fill your knapsack with copies of the Book of Mormon. Then share them, along with your testimony. As Samuel’s brief mission shows, you may not always know who will be touched by reading the Book of Mormon. But you can count on Moroni’s promise: if people pray sincerely about the Book of Mormon, God “will manifest the truth of it unto [them], by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moro. 10:4).
“Conversion to [the Book of Mormon] is conversion to Christ, because this book contains the words of Christ. …
“Additionally, conversion to this inspired book is conversion to the gospel of Jesus Christ, because it contains the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. …
“Finally, conversion to the Book of Mormon is conversion to the divine, prophetic calling of the Prophet Joseph Smith. [The Book of Mormon] is the divine evidence of the truthfulness of Joseph Smith’s calling.”Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Book of Mormon: The Heart of Missionary Proselyting,” Ensign, Sept. 2002, 14.

This story happened in the USA.
Joshua skipped on the sidewalk as he and his family walked home from church. “Guess what?” he said. “I’m giving a talk in Primary next Sunday!”
“Next Sunday is Pioneer Day, when we remember the pioneers who came to the Salt Lake Valley,” Mom said. “Maybe you could talk about pioneers.”
That gave Joshua an idea. When he got home, he flipped through the Friend magazine. He had seen a “Draw It” activity that showed how to draw a covered wagon and oxen, like the pioneers used when they crossed the plains.1 He wanted to draw a picture of pioneers to hold during his talk. Joshua got out his crayons and got to work.
After Joshua finished drawing, Dad helped him write his talk. “What do you want to say about pioneers?” Dad asked.
Joshua remembered a song about pioneers that they were learning in Primary. “Well, pioneers are people who walked and walked and walked,” he said.2
“You’re right! The Saints who crossed the plains walked very far,” said Dad. “But did you know that you’re a pioneer too?”
Joshua scrunched his eyebrows. “Because I walk to school sometimes?”
Dad laughed. “You’re a pioneer because you do hard things,” he said. “And you choose the right, even though it’s not always easy.”
“Cool,” said Joshua. It felt special to be a pioneer!
“A pioneer is also the first person to do something,” Dad said. “When you became part of our family, you learned about the gospel and chose to follow Jesus Christ. That makes you a pioneer too!”
Joshua was adopted. He still saw his birth family and got to do fun things with them. But when he came to live with Mom and Dad, he learned about Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. He went to church with them. He even got to go to the temple to be sealed to his new family.
Joshua grinned. He had an idea of what to say in his talk.
All week, Joshua practiced what he would say.
“Do you want me to go up with you when you give your talk?” Dad asked.
“I think I can read everything I wrote by myself,” said Joshua. “But can you hold up the picture I drew?”
Dad smiled. “Of course.”
When Sunday came, Joshua was ready. He stood at the front of the Primary room. Dad stood next to him and held up the drawing.
“Today is Pioneer Day,” Joshua said. “Pioneers are people who walked really far. Like the Saints who crossed the plains.”
Joshua pointed to the picture Dad was holding.
“But a pioneer is also the first person to do something,” he said.
Joshua looked at Mom. She was smiling at him from the back of the room.
“I am a pioneer,” said Joshua. “When I get baptized, I will be the first person in my birth family to join the Church.” He grinned. “We can all be pioneers by doing hard things and choosing to follow Jesus. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Joshua felt happy as he walked back to sit with his Primary class. He was glad to be a pioneer!
Illustrations by Melissa Manwill Kashiwagi

When Henry Marsh loses a race, it’s news. He made that kind of news twice last year, not at all in 1982, and once in 1981. One of the items of news he made last year simply involved getting overtaken at the finish line. That’s very very rare. The other news he made was even rarer. At the World Championship in Helsinki, Finland, he hit the barrier on the last water jump and went into the water, making not only news but a splash heard ’round the track world.

“Down” was a rather new dimension when Henry discovered it on the last water jump in Helsinki. He not only lost the race and his number one ranking, but came out of the water pit with painfully bruised ribs. There was no way he could run the following week in Berlin, Germany.

But he did. Although his ribs screamed at him to stop, he not only won the race in Berlin, but turned in an American and personal record of 8:12.37. But that’s not really news, is it?

When my father-in-law passed away, our family gathered together to greet people who came to pay their respects. Throughout the evening, as I visited with family and friends, I often noticed our 10-year-old grandson, Porter, standing near my mother-in-law—his granny. Sometimes he was behind her, watching over her. Once I noticed his arm linked with hers. I watched him pat her hands, give her little hugs, and stand by her side.
For several days after that experience, I couldn’t get this picture out of my mind. I was prompted to send Porter an email. I told him what I had seen and felt. I also reminded him of the covenants he had made when he was baptized, quoting Alma’s words in Mosiah chapter 18:
A covenant is a promise between you and Heavenly Father.
How many times can you find this word in the story?
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, … that ye may have eternal life—
“… If this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?” (verses 8–10).
I explained to Porter that Alma taught that those who want to be baptized need to be willing to serve the Lord by serving others—for your whole life! I said: “I don’t know if you realized it, but the way you showed love and concern for Granny was keeping your covenants. We keep our covenants every day as we are kind, show love, and take care of each other.
“I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you for being a covenant keeper! As you keep the covenant you made when you were baptized, you will be prepared to be ordained to the priesthood. This additional covenant will give you more opportunities to bless and serve others and help you to prepare for the covenants you will make in the temple.
“Thank you for being such a good example to me! Thank you for showing me what it looks like to be a covenant keeper!”
Porter replied back: “Grandma, thanks for the message. When I was always hugging Granny, I didn’t know that I was keeping my covenants, but I felt warm in my heart and felt really good. I know that it was the Holy Ghost in my heart.”
I also felt warm in my heart when I realized that Porter knows that when he keeps his covenants, he will “always have [Heavenly Father’s] Spirit to be with [him]” (D&C 20:77). This is a promise made possible by receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost.