Gospel Story Finder

During my life I have had many experiences of being guided in what I should do and in being protected from injury and also from evil. The Lord’s protecting care has shielded me from the evil acts of others and has also protected me from surrendering to my own worst impulses. I enjoyed that protection one warm summer night on the streets of Chicago.

My wife, June, had attended a ward officers’ meeting. When I came to drive her home, she was accompanied by a sister we would take home on our way. She lived in the nearby Woodlawn area, which was the territory of a gang called the Blackstone Rangers.

I parked at the curb outside this sister’s apartment house and accompanied her into the lobby and up the stairs to her door. June remained in the car on 61st Street. She locked all of the doors, and I left the keys in the ignition in case she needed to drive away. We had lived on the south side of Chicago for quite a few years and were accustomed to such precautions.

Back in the lobby, and before stepping out into the street, I looked carefully in each direction. By the light of a nearby streetlight, I could see that the street was deserted except for three young men walking by. I waited until they were out of sight and then walked quickly toward our car.

As I came to the driver’s side and paused for June to unlock the door, I saw one of these young men running back toward me. He had something in his right hand, and I knew what it would be. There was no time to get into the car and drive away before he came within range.

Fortunately, as June leaned across to open the door, she glanced through the back window and saw this fellow coming around the end of the car with a gun in his hand. Wisely, she did not unlock the door. For the next two or three minutes, which seemed like an eternity, she was a horrified spectator to an event happening at her eye level, just outside the driver’s window.

The young man pushed the gun against my stomach and said, “Give me your money.” I took the wallet out of my pocket and showed him it was empty. I wasn’t even wearing a watch I could offer him because my watchband had broken earlier that day. I offered him some coins I had in my pocket, but he growled a rejection.

“Give me your car keys,” he demanded. “They are in the car,” I told him. “Tell her to open the car,” he replied. For a moment I considered the new possibilities that would present, and then refused. He was furious. He jabbed me in the stomach with his gun and said, “Do it, or I’ll kill you.”

When I refused, the young robber repeated his demands, this time emphasizing them with an angrier tone and more motion with his gun. I remember thinking that he probably wouldn’t shoot me on purpose, but if he wasn’t careful in the way he kept jabbing that gun into my stomach, he might shoot me by mistake.

“Give me your money.” “I don’t have any.” “Give me your car keys.” “They’re in the car.” “Tell her to open the car.” “I won’t do it.” “I’ll kill you if you don’t.” “I won’t do it.”

Inside the car June couldn’t hear the conversation, but she could see the action with the gun. She agonized over what she should do. Should she unlock the door? Should she honk the horn? Should she drive away? Everything she considered seemed to have the possibility of making matters worse, so she just waited and prayed. Then a peaceful feeling came over her. She felt it would be all right.

Then, for the first time, I saw the possibility of help. From behind the robber, a city bus approached. It stopped about 20 feet away. A passenger stepped off and scurried away. The driver looked directly at me, but I could see that he was not going to offer any assistance.

While this was happening behind the young robber, out of his view, he became nervous and distracted. His gun wavered from my stomach until its barrel pointed slightly to my left. My arm was already partly raised, and with a quick motion I could seize the gun and struggle with him without the likelihood of being shot. I was taller and heavier than this young man, and at that time of my life was somewhat athletic. I had no doubt that I could prevail in a quick wrestling match if I could get his gun out of the contest.

Just as I was about to make my move, I had a unique experience. I did not see anything or hear anything, but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man’s chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also understood that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life.

I relaxed, and as the bus pulled away I followed an impulse to put my right hand on his shoulder and give him a lecture. June and I had some teenage children at that time, and giving lectures came naturally.

“Look here,” I said. “This isn’t right. What you’re doing just isn’t right. The next car might be a policeman, and you could get killed or sent to jail for this.”

With the gun back in my stomach, the young robber replied to my lecture by going through his demands for the third time. But this time his voice was subdued. When he offered the final threat to kill me, he didn’t sound persuasive. When I refused again, he hesitated for a moment and then stuck the gun in his pocket and ran away. June unlocked the door, and we drove off, uttering a prayer of thanks. We had experienced the kind of miraculous protection illustrated in the Bible stories I had read as a boy.

I have often pondered the significance of that event in relation to the responsibilities that came later in my life. Less than a year after that August night, I was chosen as president of Brigham Young University. Almost 14 years after that experience, I received my present calling.

A true story from France.
Alexandre was turning eight years old in just a few days! He was very excited because he and Dad were planning a special birthday snack for him to eat after school. As the missionaries arrived for dinner, Alexandre told them all about the delicious chocolate pastries he had chosen.
“We’re going to have eight of them with one candle each, instead of one cake with eight candles!”
Elder Lauener laughed. “That sounds awesome. Save some for me!”
After dinner, the missionaries taught a lesson on baptism. Elder Doyon turned to Alexandre. “When you are baptized, you promise to follow Jesus Christ.” He told Alexandre about his own baptism and shared his testimony. “The Holy Ghost helped me to feel so happy because that day I chose to follow Jesus Christ.”
Alexandre couldn’t wait for his baptism day!
But when he went to bed that night, he found it hard to sleep. He liked the idea of being clean and new. But how would he stay clean after baptism?
The next morning Alexandre walked to school with Dad. “You’ve been really quiet this morning,” Dad said. “What’s the matter?”
Alexandre sighed. “l wish I could be baptized more than once.”
“Why?” Dad asked.
“How else can I stay clean after I’m baptized?” asked Alexandre. “l forget things all the time—like saying hello and thank you to grown-ups and being patient with my little brother. I know I’ll still make mistakes. You only get one baptism, so I’ll never be that clean again.”
Dad stopped and met Alexandre’s eyes. “Wow. That probably feels a little overwhelming. Do you remember when we talked about making promises at baptism?”
Alexandre nodded. “I think so.”
“When you get baptized, you make a covenant with Heavenly Father. You promise to keep His commandments and follow Jesus Christ. After that, every time you take the sacrament, you can remember Jesus and how He can help you repent.”
Alexandre’s eyes widened. “So I can feel just as clean as when I’m baptized?”
“Exactly,” Dad said. “Heavenly Father knows you aren’t perfect, and sometimes you’re going to make wrong choices. But when you sin, you can repent and keep trying to follow Jesus. Does that sound like something you can do?”
Alexandre smiled. “Yes! I think I can do that.”
When Alexandre’s birthday arrived, his family had his birthday snack after school. It was delicious! And at his baptism, Alexandre felt extra good inside when he came up out of the water. He had promised to follow Jesus Christ, and that felt amazing!
That week Alexandre tried his best to keep his new covenants and be kind to his little brother. But when the next Sunday came, he was a little disappointed. He felt like he could have made some better choices that week.
As the sacrament was being passed, Alexandre folded his arms and bowed his head. He quietly asked Heavenly Father to help him do better next week. He thought about how much Jesus loved him and how he wanted to be more like Him.
As he took a piece of baguette from the sacrament tray, Alexandre felt warm and peaceful inside. He felt just like he did on his baptism day! Dad put his arm around Alexandre’s shoulder and gave him a smile.
Today was the start of a new week, and Alexandre was going to do his best—with Heavenly Father’s help.

In my first year of high school, I made a commitment to read the New Testament from beginning to end. After school and on weekends, I retreated to the upper story of our house and read the Savior’s words and of His miracles and life.
Though my young mind often did not understand the language of the Bible, I came to know Jesus Christ. I learned that He is the Son of God and that He was sent to atone for our sins. I learned that He walked with, spoke to, and blessed ordinary, weak people—people like me.
I was sometimes confused while reading complex passages in Paul’s epistles and John’s writings in the book of Revelation, but I could always feel the truth of their teachings. I found that reading the scriptures helped me through hard days at school and gave me guidance in making important decisions.

In 1950, while the family was living in Namur, Belgium, and Charles was finishing junior high school, two Latter-day Saint missionaries from the United States knocked on their door. His mother, Gabrielle, let them in and listened. During Easter vacation of the following year, she was baptized in a little font in Brussels, but Charles missed the baptism. He was in Rome to see the Pope on a trip organized by the Catholic church.
Although Charles resisted invitations to attend the local branch, he did attend an English club taught by the missionaries, leaving before the evening’s youth activities started because he “didn’t want to be trapped.” But he was asked to take part in a branch play, and then his mother persuaded him to attend church with her on a Sunday. Soon his sister, Jacqueline, was baptized. When Charles left home to go to the university in Liège, he says, “I attended youth activities from time to time. I did some little things all the time but did not want to participate. I was very shy. I really did not want to be in front of people.”
Then missionary Elder Dewitt Paul challenged him, asking why he would not be baptized, since he was “doing everything a member does,” Elder Didier recalls.
“I said I didn’t see the necessity. I had a good life. I could attend and not have responsibilities. He said, ‘Let’s pray about the Book of Mormon, about Joseph Smith. Then if you have a testimony, I think you’ll recognize that you need to be baptized.’
“And so we prayed about it. I got up from that prayer with a testimony—an answer to my prayers. It was nothing like a light, a voice—just a reassuring influence: ‘Go ahead and do it. There is wisdom. This is my commandment.’” In November 1957, Charles was baptized in a swimming pool in Brussels by Elder Paul.

The Provo Utah Sharon East Stake often goes camping or holds outdoor activities for part of its youth conference. But last year, the youth stayed in town and helped in the revitalization project of one of the pioneer neighborhoods in Provo.

Mark Stringham, 16, was on the youth planning committee. They were tossing around the idea of doing a service-oriented project. One of their leaders is involved in city government. He said there was a neighborhood that needed some help. Mark said, “The minute he said it, everybody’s mind just went, Boom. That’s what we need to do.”

The teens worked with an organization already involved in helping the residents improve their land and keep their homes in good repair. To make the project even more enjoyable, the stake invited the teens who live in the neighborhood to come to their youth conference. The young people didn’t know each other because they attended different high schools, so giving service together also became a time to gain new friends.

Brendan Wright, 17, said, “The theme of our youth conference was by helping others you can raise yourself. When you get here, it just explodes. It’s fun. You get to know people. You take pride in what you’re doing. This is my little section of the house. I’m going to paint it the best I can.”

The group not only painted houses, they helped cut down the high, dry weeds running along the railroad tracks. One spark from a passing train could start a fire, and the growth was so tall and dry, it could have caused major problems if it spread to nearby homes. Looking a little like they had been rolling in haystacks, because of the bits of dry grass sticking to their clothes and hair, one group had the weedeaters going full blast. Then passing motorists began to stop and tell them it looked good and how much they appreciated them helping out. The word was spreading with the good works.

Giving service is like dropping stones in a pond of water. From one small act, the ripples start to spread. One act of service creates ripples of hope and encouragement that spread through neighborhoods, communities, and towns.

The ripples are not just on the outside. The teens who made themselves get up early and participate found out that being of service did something for them as well. There is satisfaction in working hard, in joining your friends involved in good works, in making something better. Now if it were only a little easier to get out of bed.

Call the mayor’s office or city government. Ask if there is a person who coordinates volunteer efforts, and set up a meeting with them to come up with ideas.
Create a planning committee. Include both young people and leaders.
Identify everyone that needs to be contacted and what permissions will be required.
Select a day and time. Make sure there are no major conflicts with other church or school activities. Make sure everyone receives notification of the event at least two or three weeks in advance.
Plan in some fun breaks in the work schedule.
Make realistic plans. Make sure you can finish what you start.
Enjoy the good feelings that go with being of service.

What was one experience you had on the show that illustrates how you had to live your faith?
There was one time where a group of teenagers wanted to go to a party and I thought, “Oh fun! Dancing and stuff!” But then I realized what they meant by it—drinking and stuff—and I felt sick to my stomach, because I’d already committed to going. What could I say? I really struggled with that. After worrying about it for a while, I realized what I had committed to, and I apologized to all of them. I just said that that’s not who I am and that’s not what I do, and I was just going to have to pass on this one. And it’s cool, because I actually just had a really close friend who found it really cool that I did that. He asked me a lot more about the Church, and he actually got baptized this last summer! It shows that good can come from standing up for what you believe in.

Kieryn Murrin, a Laurel from the Sydney suburb of Oatley, loves to study history in school, especially ancient history.
“History is relevant to our lives,” she says. “It helps us know who we are.”
So it’s not surprising that Kieryn chose a history-related Laurel project. But the history she’s researching isn’t ancient. In fact, Kieryn doesn’t have to look much beyond the walls of her own home to learn more about her subject.
“When I was six and my sister Lyndal was eight, she became ill and died two weeks later. For my project I’m gathering and organizing things that have to do with her life,” she says.
As Kieryn has worked on her project, she has spent considerable time looking through the journals, photos, letters, cards, and school papers that the family kept when Lyndal died. It gives her a feeling of closeness to a sibling who has now been gone for nearly 10 years.
“We always talked about Lyndal,” Kieryn says, “but as I’m working on this project I think of more specific questions to ask. I feel like I really understand a lot more about her and what she was like when she was alive.”
Kieryn says she not only feels closer to Lyndal, but also to the rest of her family, especially her mom (who has helped a great deal with the project) and her younger brother, Cameron.
“Knowing about the plan of salvation, and talking about it, is very important to our family,” says Kieryn.

When Carrie and her mother, Ginger, returned home, they organized the youth in their ward, taught them how to read Old German script, and helped them prepare the names to be submitted for work at the Chicago Temple.
“We knew we were going to the temple, and we wanted to make the experience more meaningful,” explains Sister Hamer, a counselor in the ward Young Women presidency and a past president of the Minnesota Genealogical Society. “We wanted the youth to know that these names for which they would be baptized were not just names; they were actual people. We could even show them photos of their hometown.
“But it wasn’t until they began actually working with the names that the people became real. Suddenly the youth were saying things like, ‘Hey, this person was born on Christmas,’ or ‘This family had three sets of twins.’”
Young people in the stake became so interested that they spent several summer vacation days copying names. Then in October, 36 teenagers traveled to the temple and were vicariously baptized for 565 people who were no longer just names on a chart. The rest of the 1,500 names were also submitted for temple work.

When I was a girl of about ten, one summer afternoon a friend and I took blankets and crackers out into the hayfield behind our Idaho home. The hay, in the middle of the summer, was sweet-smelling, lush, and so tall that when we spread our blankets in the middle of the field, we could sit on our blankets and eat crackers with the hay making a wall around us and hiding us from sight. There we were in a world all of our own.
We liked to pick the dandelions that grew large and abundantly there. We split their stems lengthwise—have any of you ever done that?—and submerged the stems in the water of the irrigation ditch. As we watched, the dandelion stems began to curl from the end. We split the stem a little farther, and each piece curled until the entire stem was a fluff of curly fibers.
It was an afternoon of wonder for us. We were there all alone under that bright, blue, clean, warm sky. It seemed as if God had created this day and dandelion stems especially for us to enjoy. I said to my friend, “Don’t you just feel happy inside?”
My friend looked at me and said, “No, I don’t.”
I was shattered by her blunt, almost emotionless statement. “Why?” I exclaimed.
“Because it won’t last,” she said. “You can be happy for a minute, but not for very long. Life just doesn’t make sense to me.”
I wish that day in the green hayfield that I had been able to help my friend. I knew the plan, but I didn’t know that was what she needed to hear. Life would have made sense to her had she known Heavenly Father’s plan. I hope someone taught her. I wish I had been the one.

On one visit to their home, Elder Minor had another inspired idea. After we shared a scripture message, he pulled out his pocket-sized hymnbook and asked if we could sing with them. Though we had sung together with their family on previous occasions, I had never seen Mi-Jung join in the singing and just assumed that she did not like singing or was uncomfortable because the music was new to her. Elder Minor asked her if she had a favorite hymn, and to my astonishment, she got choked up and replied that she loved singing hymns and that ever since she was a little girl, her favorite hymn had been “I Need the Every Hour” (Hymns, no. 98). We asked if she would sing that hymn with us, and she tearfully agreed. Soon we were singing a four-part harmony, with Kuk-Won and his children singing the melody, Mi-Jung singing alto, Elder Minor singing tenor, and me singing bass.
The Spirit was as strong in the room as we had ever felt. As we sang the third verse, emotion overcame her, and her voice dropped out as we continued:
I need thee every hour,
In joy or pain.
Come quickly and abide,
Or life is vain.
I need thee, oh, I need thee;
Ev’ry hour I need thee!
Oh, bless me now, my Savior;
I come to thee!
As we completed the fourth and final verse, she was sobbing.
Illustration by Julia Yellow
As her husband tried to comfort her, she was eventually able to compose herself. She looked me right in the eyes and said, “I need to get baptized.”
The baptismal service for Kong Kuk-Won and Pak Mi-Jung that following Sunday afternoon was a truly joyous occasion! Their children, Sung-Gyun and Su-Jin, participated in the program, and numerous local members attended to show their support for the newest convert family in their ward. And Elder Minor and I provided a special musical number: “I Need Thee Every Hour.”

However, reading scriptures can present a challenge for everyone. President Boyd K. Packer shares his first attempts as a teenager at reading the Book of Mormon. He says: “I opened it and read, ‘I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents’ (1 Nephi 1:1). … It was interesting, and I could follow it until I got over to the Isaiah chapters. … So a few months later I decided to try again to read the Book of Mormon. I read, ‘I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents,’ but every time I’d hit the barrier of those Isaiah chapters. … Finally I decided I was even going to read them.”

And of course President Packer did read them. Persistence is the key. With every reading of the scriptures, unfamiliar words will take on meaning. You can read about heroes and great acts of courage. You can learn of the tender mercies of the Lord. And above all, you can feel the love of God and know that Jesus Christ is our Savior.

The 36 young women in the Ocean Springs Ward, Gulfport Mississippi Stake, made Father’s Day special for their dads and learned a new skill while they were at it. The young women chose material, cut out patterns, pinned, and sewed for hours. Finally, each of their fathers had a handmade tie to wear to church on Father’s Day. The girls also made extra ties for the bishopric, the Young Men presidency, and the ward’s missionaries, who weren’t lucky enough to have daughters in Young Women.

“Easter is a good time to think about Jesus and to remember His Resurrection,” Sister Rojas said. She held up a picture of Jesus. “Because of Him, people who have died can live again.”
Alonso looked up when his Primary teacher said this. Does that mean I can see my parents again? Alonso wondered.
Mamá had died years ago. Alonso didn’t remember her well, but he liked looking at pictures of her. Then Papá died too.
Now Alonso lived with Abuela, his grandmother. She had been teaching him about her church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was going to be baptized and confirmed next year, when he was old enough.
Then Sister Rojas held up a picture of a white building. “Another amazing gift from Jesus is temples. This is one of the temples here in Chile.”
Alonso looked at the gold statue on top of the building. It was beautiful! He wondered what happened inside.
“Temples are where families are sealed together forever,” Sister Rojas said. “This temple in Santiago is where I was sealed to my parents after we joined the Church. Because we were sealed, I can be with them even after this life.”
Alonso felt excited when he heard that. “Could I be sealed to my parents?” he asked. “Even though they already died?”
Sister Rojas nodded. “Yes! That’s one of the reasons temples are so important. They bless all of our family members, including those who have died.”
For the rest of the day, Alonso kept thinking about temples. He asked Abuela to teach him more. She talked about the white clothes people wear inside and the beautiful artwork on the walls.
“Best of all, it’s where you can be sealed to your parents,” Abuela said. “We’ll ask two people from the ward to stand in for them during the sealing.”
“Can we go tomorrow?” Alonso asked. “I want to be with Mamá and Papá forever!”
Abuela smiled. “I’m glad you want to go,” she said. “But the nearest temple is in Concepción. We don’t have enough money for bus tickets.”
“I’ll help save for the trip!” Alonso said.
From then on, whenever Alonso found a coin on the street or had a chance to earn some money, he paid tithing and then added the rest to their temple fund.
After months of saving, Alonso and Abuela finally had enough money to travel to the temple. They asked Brother and Sister Silva to come with them. On the day of the trip, they took a long bus ride to the city of Concepción. It was almost sunset when Alonso spotted something gold in the distance.
“I can see the angel Moroni!” Alonso said, pointing to the statue on top of the temple’s blue dome roof.
They spent the night at an apartment next to the temple. In the morning, Alonso went inside the temple for the first time. He saw a big picture of Jesus inside. He and Abuela got dressed in white. He felt happy and peaceful.
When it was time for the sealing, Alonso walked into a beautiful room with mirrors on the walls. A temple worker showed Alonso, Abuela, and the Silvas how to kneel around a special table called an altar. It was covered in soft fabric.
Brother and Sister Silva were there for Alonso’s mom and dad. Abuela was there for his sister who died before Alonso was born.
Closing his eyes, Alonso imagined his family all together.
I can’t wait to see them again, Alonso thought. I’m so grateful families can be together forever!

It was Saturday morning, and Eli was crouched in the goal box, ready to pounce. He jumped and dove, doing his best to keep the soccer ball out of the net. But it was hard! Then right before the end of the game, the ball slid past his hands. The other team had scored! Eli’s team had lost. He was so sad.
The next day at church, Eli walked slowly to his Primary class, still feeling glum.
Eli saw his friend Kate outside the classroom. Kate’s mom pushed Kate’s pink wheelchair inside. She hugged Kate before leaving to go to her own class.
“Hi, Kate,” Eli said.
Kate couldn’t answer or wave back, but she always looked right into Eli’s eyes so he knew she heard him.
Usually Kate smiled when Eli said hello, but not today. Is Kate sad? Eli wondered. I know what that feels like. He still felt sad that he hadn’t stopped the other team from scoring the winning goal.
Eli sat by Juan and Makell as Sister Young started class. Then Kate whimpered. Sometimes it was hard for Kate to sit still because her body hurt.
“Kate, are you hurting today?” Sister Young asked.
Kate started to cry.
“Maybe a Primary song will help,” Sister Young said.
The class started to sing. Kate loved music. Usually she sang along by making happy sounds. But today, Kate just cried.
How can we help Kate feel better? Eli wondered.
Then an idea popped into his mind. “I know!” Eli told Sister Young. “I’ll push Kate’s wheelchair a little bit.”
Eli had seen how Kate’s mom gently pushed her chair when Kate needed to feel better. He hurried over to Kate and started rocking her wheelchair slowly back and forth.
Kate stopped crying.
“Can I have a turn?” Juan asked.
“Me too!” Makell said.
As Sister Young taught the lesson, Eli and his friends took turns pushing Kate’s wheelchair. Kate smiled. The whole room seemed brighter.
By the end of class, everyone was smiling.
“Helping Kate makes me happy,” Eli said.
“I’m glad,” said Sister Young. “I’m sure it makes Heavenly Father happy too. He loves Kate and wants her to feel better. Sometimes we get to be His helpers.”
Eli looked at Kate. “You help me too,” he told her. “Every time you smile.”
Kate grinned.
As Eli headed home from church, he felt as warm as a soccer field on a sunny summer day. Maybe I can’t catch all the soccer balls, he thought. But I can still help people!

Thank you so much for this wonderful magazine. A while ago, I was feeling really down. As I flopped onto my bed, I saw the September 2000 New Era sticking out of a pile of magazines. I felt impressed to read it, and since I was having such a hard time I picked it up and read the entire thing. My dark mood was lifted, and I felt refreshed. With all the filthy magazines out there, it’s good to know there is at least one that is uplifting and wholesome.
Liesel HaubnerPleasant Grove, Utah (via e-mail)

Sister A. J. Hough, also of the Kettering Ward, tells of how emphasis on For the Strength of Youth has helped her be a better parent: “Having three teenagers, I wanted to ensure that I, too, was living the standards completely. I was keen to find ways I could ‘raise the bar’ and set a good example. I decided on the section on ‘Sabbath Day Observance’ and have set myself new goals to improve the example I am personally. I hope I can be a better influence to those I love the most—my family. We now use the booklet during family home evening. And whether we’re being creative with our family activities or planning ahead to fully observe the Sabbath, we use these standards to guide us.”

Joseph Albiston, John’s son, was born in 1820. He married Mary Ann Clayton in 1846, and they had six children. Joseph and his brother, John Albiston, Jr., had been baptised in April 1840 by Henry Royle, a British convert and the first official missionary to Wales. Joseph was later rebaptized at Ashton-under-Lyne on 16 June 1848 by his brother, John Jr. Mary Ann, Joseph’s wife, was baptised the same day. In 1879, Joseph left for America. Then Mary Ann and two of her sons, Joseph and Thomas, members of the Oldham Branch up to 29 August 1883, emigrated to Utah.

William Albiston, son of Joseph and Mary Ann, was born in 1857. Will, as he was known, his wife, Elizabeth, and daughter, Eda, were baptised in Oldham in 1897. The Albistons were members of the Oldham Branch that was meeting, during this time, in a rented hall at the House & Mill Company offices, 127 Union Street.3
According to Will’s descendants, he was converted to the gospel by an Elder Abraham Wilde, who mentioned the Albiston family a few times in his missionary journal:
“20 January 1897. […] We spent the [evening] at Mr Albiston’s who was to [be] baptised the next evening.
“21st January 1897. The weather is still cold therefore we did not get out; in the evening Bro Broadbent baptised twelve persons, [...] Mr Albiston and wife and daughter [...]. They were baptised in the font of the Baptist Chapel in Oldham.” 4
Like so many other members of the Oldham Branch, Will and his family left England for Utah, but Will wanted to be in the British Empire, so the family moved to Alberta, Canada, settling on a homestead in Cardston County. Will farmed there until his death.
At the end of the 19th century, the Oldham Branch of the Church was coming up to its 60th anniversary. The branch had seen many of its members emigrate to Utah but those who remained were strong and dedicated to their faith.

In 2021, the service-mission programme started in the UK. This led me to look at serving again. I am now two months into my service mission—it is the best decision I have ever made. I was set apart at the same time as my younger brother, Elder Joseph Peedle, who is serving in Helsinki, Finland. It was amazing to be set apart on the same day! During my preparation for starting my mission, I learnt a lot about being patient and how things are done in the Lord’s timing.
My service mission has saved me. It has given me purpose and focus. I felt lost for a long time and this mission ‘found’ me. I love the gospel and I love our Saviour and our Heavenly Father. Trust in the Lord, everything will work out!

Another lesson I have learned came from an experience I had as a missionary many years ago in the South Africa Johannesburg Mission.
One particular day had been discouraging. My companion and I had met with no success from our proselyting efforts, even though we had worked long and hard in a spirit of fasting and prayer. It was past the time we usually left for home when we turned our bicycles toward a nearby store. Our only thought was finding something to eat. Unfortunately, it was late and the store had already closed for the night. As we debated what to do, I remembered a store on the other side of town that might be open. We both felt impressed to go there. To our delight, we found it open.
I was bending down to select a chocolate bar when I felt a tap on my shoulder. On turning around, I looked into the smiling face of a woman I had not seen for many years.
In speaking with her, we learned that during the past several years she had become less active and had married someone who was not a member of the Church. Recently she and her family had moved into an area about nine miles (15 km) from our proselyting area. She was feeling lonely and missed her association with the Church, but she was a shy person and was reluctant to make contact with strangers. So she had been asking the Lord to bring her into contact with someone she knew well who could introduce her family to the ward they now lived in. She felt our meeting in this store was an answer to prayer, as this was her first visit to this particular store and her decision to visit had come to her suddenly.
On the following Sunday my companion and I gratefully welcomed her and her husband to the local ward.
Many years after this event, she sent me a detailed summary of all the members of her family who in some way had been affected by this experience. Before she returned to Church activity, all of her extended family who were members of the Church were less active. Because of her renewed activity in the Church, her husband was baptized and together they raised their children in the gospel. Since her activation, more than 20 family members have been activated or baptized. Many of them have been married in the temple. Some have also served full-time missions. Three have served as bishops.
I continue to marvel at the faithfulness of this sister and at the graciousness of the Lord in responding to her humble prayer. The store we met in late that evening was out of the way and a long distance from both of our homes—and yet the Lord used it to perform a great work.
When I think of that experience, I see in my mind’s eye two tired, discouraged missionaries and a fulfillment of the Lord’s promise: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say” (D&C 82:10).

I grew up in a small town surrounded by the beautiful, snow-peaked mountains of central Colorado. Looking back, I remember afternoons spent playing soccer on the high school soccer field, hours of practice in the wrestling room, and workouts with the ski team. Numerous camping and fishing trips were also a part of those days, as were hikes up seemingly endless trails while clear mountain streams trickled alongside.
Those days hold many great memories, and yet perhaps the greatest of them all comes from an experience I had when I was 14. I was the only Mormon boy my age at our high school. Two other young men and my 16-year-old sister made up the rest of the active Mormon student body.
Because of our town’s location, a great flow of tourists came from all over the world to enjoy the seven major ski areas that were all within 30 minutes of us. Drinking, smoking, immorality, and the use of drugs were common among the majority of people.
Many people in our community had made a great deal of money from the heavy tourism and found it easy to support these habits. Soon, our small high school was rated second in the entire state for drug-related problems, second only to a school that had more than three times the number of students.
Growing up in such an environment wasn’t easy. The majority of my friends were involved in such activities, and I soon found myself falling to peer pressure. My attitudes started to change, my grades dropped, and my general outlook on life headed steadily downhill.
My parents became concerned with my actions, and the questions began. “What has gotten into you? Why are you like this? Why are your grades dropping?” I became defensive, and my parents worried even more about the changes taking place in me.
One morning, as I lay in bed before school, my mother came into my room to wake me up. She nudged me gently until I was aware of her presence and then waited until I was awake enough to listen to her.
She began to speak and I soon realized that this wasn’t your average early morning wake-up session. “Last night your father and I spoke with one of his good friends and we were informed of the things you have been involved in during the last few weeks,” she said. “Son, I want you to know that we love you and we will do everything possible to help you overcome this difficult time in your life, but we know you won’t quit until you make the decision to do so.” Then she kissed me and left the room.
I was stunned by what had just happened, and tears filled my eyes as I realized how much my mother loved me. But then my thoughts turned to my father and I wondered how he would react.
My father had been my idol as long as I could remember, and we had a very close relationship. He was a big man, very athletic, and always involved and interested in what I was doing. I had always been proud to say, “Yeah, that’s my dad.”
I got up and got ready for school as usual that day, but as I left only my mother said good-bye. My father didn’t say anything, and I realized he hadn’t spoken to me at all that morning.
After soccer practice that day I came back home and everything seemed to be normal, except that my father still didn’t speak to me. Finally, I approached him and asked how his day had gone, but he didn’t reply.
For the next two days there was an uncomfortable silence between us. I felt awful and wished that we could talk as we had before.
Then, on the evening of the third day, I was told that my father wanted to talk to me. I walked nervously into the room where he was waiting, and many things passed through my mind as I wondered what he would say. I sat down across the table from him, and he was silent for a moment.
Then he explained to me, in a way that I have never forgotten, why our relationship had been so strained and why he had seemed so distant. “Son,” he said, “as you know, I haven’t spoken with you in the last three days, and I want you to know why. I want you to know that I wasn’t angry with you, and I wasn’t trying to punish you. When we are participating in things that are contrary to our knowledge of the commandments, the spirit of God cannot be with us.” He said that just as we hadn’t been able to communicate for the past few days, so it is with the Holy Ghost when we knowingly and willfully reject its promptings.
Although my father’s method of teaching this lesson might not work for everyone, it hit home with me. My father went on to explain the importance of having the companionship of the Holy Ghost, and since then I have enjoyed that companionship many times.
As a missionary, I now enjoy that closeness each day as I serve my Heavenly Father and try to live the commandments he has given us.