Gospel Story Finder

This light will keep the kittens warm tonight. It’s bedtime for everyone!
You can play with the kittens tomorrow.
Go check the kittens.
Where did that thought come from?
Go check the kittens!
Oh no!
Daddy, the kittens’ box almost caught on fire!
How did you know to check on the kittens?
I kept having a thought, kind of like a voice. I think it was the Holy Ghost.
I think you’re right. I’m glad you listened.
Me too! I’m glad the Holy Ghost helped us.
See Come, Follow Me for Enos–Words of Mormon.

As the tears wet her nightgown, she remembered once when she saw the Prophet cry. It had happened the year before, when Mary Ann’s family was returning from England. Many converts came with them on the boat, and they were anxious to see Joseph Smith.

“I’ll know him immediately,” one man said. Others agreed that they, too, would be able to pick him out, even in a multitude.

Mary Ann told the converts how noble and grand the Prophet looked on his horse at the head of the Nauvoo Legion. She told them how she had watched him preach to the people in the Kirtland Temple, and to the Indians in the grove at Nauvoo.

Mary Ann still remembered how the steamboat pushed through large, floating blocks of ice on the Mississippi River as it approached the city of Nauvoo. At the landing there was a large group of people waiting to welcome the company of travelers. Right away, Mary Ann noticed the Prophet. He came on the boat, into their cabin, and embraced Parley Pratt. Then he welcomed each family member in turn.

The Prophet was a very big man. Six foot, her father had said. Mary Ann’s head came just above his belt buckle, but he leaned over so he could look into her eyes and shake her hand. Then he sat down and took her little brother on his knees.

“Well, well, Brother Parley, you have returned, bringing your sheaves with you.” He hugged little Parley and Nathan, and the tears filled his clear blue eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Mary Ann had discovered that grown folk sometimes cry when they’re filled with joy, so she knew it was just his happiness spilling over.

Mary Ann recalled how Father had teased the Prophet when he saw the tears.

“Brother Smith, if you feel so bad about our coming home, I guess we’ll have to go back again.”

After that, everyone laughed, the Prophet most of all. Then he said, “Brother Parley, bring your folks up to my house.” Mary Ann remembered how as they walked up the hill with the Prophet, she had tried to match her step with his.

One Sunday my granddaughter Diana, who is four years old, was sitting next to her father at church. Diana sat reverently, enjoying the comfort of her father’s arm holding her close to him. However, when the bishop stood up and announced the sacrament hymn, Diana gently lifted her father’s arm from her shoulder and placed it in his lap. Then she sat up straight and folded her arms. She looked over at her father and encouraged him to do the same.
Diana’s message to her father was perfectly clear. She was telling him to turn his complete attention to the Savior.

Study true principles. Both of us began marriage with a very low sense of self-worth, and we both tended to be loners. One night my wife invited in two elders from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because there was a blizzard outside and she felt sorry for them. I gained a testimony that the Church was true—despite my reluctance at first—and we eventually joined. As members, we learned that each of us is a child of God and that it is possible to improve ourselves. We accepted the fact that we were given weaknesses to learn humility and that our weaknesses could become our strengths (see Ether 12:27). This fact gave us the courage to continue on together and to study correct principles that have helped us make needed changes.
When, much later, I was called to serve as a bishop, I shared with many people some of the resources my wife and I had studied: principles from the scriptures, articles from the Church magazines, books I had read, and stories I had heard that showed how gospel principles can improve marriages. Every story was beneficial because each was based upon a gospel truth. These practical helps, experiences, and accumulated stories—added to scriptural insights—have enabled not only my wife and I but also many others to keep improving our marriage relationships and to enjoy being together. So much in the gospel is designed to improve our relationship with our spouse.—Robert N. Allen

The Primary children in the English-speaking branch in Bangkok, Thailand, had heard about their brothers and sisters in the Issan region of Thailand. They knew that they were very poor and that they had very few clothes to wear. In fact, they learned that the only change of clothing these children had was their school uniform, which they wore to school every day. They did not have any special clothes for Sunday.
Encouraged to begin to serve their fellowman in any way they could, the Primary children in Bangkok began a project to share what clothing they could spare with the children in the Issan region. They brought the clothing they wanted to donate to Primary, where the leaders made sure everything was clean, pressed, and mended. Clothing for about twenty children was then placed in plastic bags and tagged to show the size and age of the boy or girl who would receive it.
After missionaries serving in the region distributed the parcels of love, they reported some wonderful stories of gratitude:
Uthaiwan Arkomkong, age three, lives with her father and mother in a small room at the side of an equipment yard where her father works as a mechanic. Normally very shy, little Uthaiwan laughed and danced around the room when she put on the yellow ruffled dress that was in her package.
In the Srisaket Branch, two eight-year-old girls received dresses on the very day they were to be interviewed for baptism. They were happy to have their pictures taken in their new dresses on this special day.
When a pair of shoes was put aside by a teenager because they “squeezed her toes,” they were taken to Sister Pongsuwan, mother of three young daughters. “Do you want to be Cinderella?” asked Brother Dang as he knelt before her and slipped the shoes on her tiny feet. The shoes fit perfectly. Sister Pongsuwan danced and twirled with happiness, telling everyone that she had never had a pair of shoes before!
The love of the Primary children in Bangkok for their young brothers and sisters in the Issan region was returned many times with bright smiles and warm “thank yous” as gifts of the heart were exchanged—children to children.

I would like to tell a story about my Grandfather Nelson. They called him A.C. When he was just 27 years old, his father died. A few months later, his deceased father came to visit him in a vision. He was in bed when his father came and sat on the side of the bed.
“What have you been doing since you died, Father?” Grandfather asked.
“I’ve been very busy preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ,” his father answered. “You cannot imagine, my son, how many spirits there are in the spirit world that have not yet received the gospel.”
He said many spirits were learning about the gospel and were looking forward to the time when their friends would do their temple work for them.
Grandfather had another question.
“Father, can you see us at all times, and do you know what we’re doing?”
His father said, “No, I am usually busy doing my work there. But today I am allowed to visit for a little while.”
Grandfather had a third question.
“Father, is it natural to die?”
His father said it was as natural as being born. It was like walking through a door from one room into another room.
Grandfather had one last question.
“Father, is the gospel as taught by this Church true?”
His father pointed to a picture of the First Presidency that was hanging on the wall.
“Just as sure as you see that picture, just as sure is the gospel true,” he said. He testified that the gospel can save everyone who obeys it, and that it’s the only way to be saved in the kingdom of God. “Always cling to the gospel.”
My grandfather’s father told him to be humble, prayerful, true, and faithful.
“Never do anything that would displease God,” he said. “My son, be a good boy.”
Grandfather wrote this special experience in his journal. I took his journal entry and made a copy for every member of my family. And now I want to share the story with you, my Church family.

My son-in-law, now serving as a bishop in my home stake, received a great blessing from his own regular temple attendance.
During one visit to the temple, he had the opportunity to meet our daughter, Emily. After returning home that evening, he shared with members of his family that he had the impression he had met his wife. After a short courtship, Jaxon asked for my daughter’s hand in marriage and they were sealed in that same temple for time and eternity.

Everything that summer seemed to be a dream or some kind of miracle. My awareness of how much families and gospel principles mean to me came so clear one week in July. This week wasn’t a normal one for the Clarks, Carters, and Tanners. It was an unforgettable family reunion in Hawaii.
In Hawaii there are many great places to go and things to see. My fondest memory is of Diamond Head because it not only opened my eyes to the beauty of the island of Oahu, but also opened my eyes to eternal beauty.
The entire hike was a quarter of a mile long, but you’d never know it the way it seemed to stretch. When my cousins and I began the hike, all we could see was a path that seemed to last a lifetime. We reached an area where some people were stopped along the path saying, “I can’t believe we are doing this. I really see no point in going on any farther.” After I heard this, I began to doubt myself, but I still kept walking.
Next, we reached this long, dark tunnel. My cousins and I went inside. We could hardly see. The only way we could get through this dark tunnel was to hold to an iron railing. We became excited when we could see, in the distance, the end of this long tunnel. We were so happy because we thought our hike was over.
When we reached the end of the tunnel, one of my cousins screamed. There before our eyes was a flight of steps carved out of the mountain. All I could think was, I can’t believe I am actually doing this.
Then my uncle turned to me and said quietly, “I’ve been here before. I know that it is worth it.” As I walked up the steps with aching legs, I thought about his gentle words, “I know that it is worth it.”
When we finally reached the top of the crater, I was completely overwhelmed at the sight, a panoramic view of the island.
As I stood there, I thought how the hike was like our earthly lives. We begin by seeing how far we have to go to become like Christ. We are overwhelmed, but we keep going forward. At times we may listen to people say, “I don’t see the point of going farther.” Even then, we continue through the darkness holding the iron rod. We may think our trials are over, and we find we only have more challenges ahead. We press on, yielding to the words, “You can make it. It is worth it.” When we finally reach our goal, we can look back and know it was worth it.
Since hiking Diamond Head, I have realized our challenges can make us stronger. I have since centered my goals around more spiritual things, such as attending early-morning seminary every day. We can all succeed if we have the faith and courage to keep going through the hard times in our lives.

Jack McConnell grew up in the hills of southwest Virginia in the United States as one of seven children of a Methodist minister and a stay-at-home mother. Their circumstances were very humble. He recounted that during his childhood, every day as the family sat around the dinner table, his father would ask each one in turn, “And what did you do for someone today?”1 The children were determined to do a good turn every day so they could report to their father that they had helped someone. Dr. McConnell calls this exercise his father’s most valuable legacy, for that expectation and those words inspired him and his siblings to help others throughout their lives. As they grew and matured, their motivation for providing service changed to an inner desire to help others.
Besides Dr. McConnell’s distinguished medical career—where he directed the development of the tuberculosis tine test, participated in the early development of the polio vaccine, supervised the development of Tylenol, and was instrumental in developing the magnetic resonance imaging procedure, or MRI—he created an organization he calls Volunteers in Medicine, which gives retired medical personnel a chance to volunteer at free clinics serving the working uninsured. Dr. McConnell said his leisure time since he retired has “evaporated into 60-hour weeks of unpaid work, but [his] energy level has increased and there is a satisfaction in [his] life that wasn’t there before.” He made this statement: “In one of those paradoxes of life, I have benefited more from Volunteers in Medicine than my patients have.”2 There are now over 90 such clinics across the United States.

Sister Elesha Angie Joseph McCaurley had reached the end of her pregnancy. Her daughter had already found a name for her little sister, and her husband was anxious to have a baby girl. Everyone took it very hard when the baby was stillborn.
“My husband is not a member and I have not been active for very long,” Sister Joseph said; so, trying to explain to her husband about attending the temple after such a recent loss was an interesting conversation in which her husband showed full support.
Hoping to baptize his baby, she had to explain that it was not necessary, because “all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven.”1
However, an opportunity had arisen. “I’d like to be sealed,” Sister Joseph said. “When you get back, we’ll talk about it,” the husband replied. Sister Joseph visited the Santo Domingo Temple for the first time and returned home visibly excited.
Under the influence of the Holy Ghost and with tears of joy, she performed temple ordinances for herself and her two grandmothers, whom she loved deeply. This was not only her experience, but of two other sisters from St. Lucia, whose testimony was influenced by a desire to be an example to their sisters and children.
The Relief Society has always shown great interest in the progress of its members and in allowing the women of the Church to reach their greatest potential. As the Prophet Joseph Smith declared: “I now turn the key to you in the name of God and this Society shall rejoice and knowledge and intelligence shall flow down from this time—this is the beginning of better days to this Society.”2
“Being a single mother is difficult,” shares Sister Caren Wendy Constance Kennedy, a mother of two children, one fifteen years old and one thirty years old. “You have to become a force of nature to them.”
“I love the Lord. He is paramount in my life, and I will take the necessary steps to do the right thing. We all struggle to follow the right path, but it is a choice,” says Sister Constance, convinced that we must be committed to walk the covenant path. After attending the temple, she shared that she is stronger than ever. “As I watched the baptism on behalf of my deceased brother being performed, I felt chills of joy, I was happy,” she said.
The temple was no less impactful in the life of Sister Juliana E. St. Louis, first counselor of the Relief Society in St. Lucia, and a single mother of a twenty-two-year-old son. She never thought that her life would be changed forever when she wondered who those young men carrying boxes of food to people were.
“I fell in love with the Book of Mormon. I’ve read it over and over and over again,” says Sister St. Louis. Worship meetings provided her with another great impression of the Church. “People don’t know you and they embrace you. Now, coming to the temple has changed my life, my attitude. It has given me peace and, I can’t explain the feeling, the calmness one feels,” she says.

In the summer of 1975 I was 25, and my father had just passed away. He was a well-to-do businessman in oil and gas in Canada. I had traveled to Denmark to settle his business dealings for my mother, selling his mining company there and a lot of oil and mineral rights he had in Greenland. I wound up being in Copenhagen alone for quite some time.
After spending hours each day in business meetings discussing the arrangements of the deal, my business companions would take me downtown to the Stroet, a famous walking area lined with shops, in the busiest part of Copenhagen.
It was one of the hottest summers on record for northern Europe. The Europeans were traveling more than the Americans. On that street, you could sit in one spot and see some English, Israelis, Arabs, and Scandinavians strolling by, sometimes in native costume or scantily dressed because of the heat. The Stroet is lined with remarkable stores selling furs and expensive things. Some of the seamier side of the city was obvious there as well, with pornographic theaters, adult bookstores, and taverns offering their wares. And I noticed, in the middle of all this, four Mormon missionaries working a street display.
I was so astonished. Here on this one street, the whole world seemed represented. The degradations of humanity beside rampant materialism and in the midst of all this, an island of spirituality.
I was with my business companions still discussing the deal we were working on, so I was not able to go talk with the missionaries, but I watched them. I noticed that none of the young men followed the young ladies down the street with their eyes no matter how scantily dressed the girls were. I was quite impressed with that. I resolved that I would go back and meet them in the evening when I was free, but every time I went to find them, their display was folded up and put away. I could never seem to catch up with them.
I left Copenhagen on a business trip and returned a few days later. On this trip I had only a light overnight bag, so instead of taking a taxi, I started walking to my hotel. As I was walking down the Stroet, lo and behold, there were two missionaries on what I later learned would have been their preparation day.
Since the pair was not working by the street display, I set out to follow them. As they walked down the street, they would look in the shop windows. I would follow and look in the windows that they looked into to see what they were looking at. They would look at shoes or coats, and when they did look into a bookstore, it was a store that sold Danish history books. They did not stare into the wine shops or other shops that offered questionable literature or art.
I resolved to meet the missionaries at their street display, but suddenly the business deal was completed, and I was on my way back to Canada.
When I got home to Edmonton, I forgot some of the feelings I had experienced watching the missionaries in Copenhagen. However, through the referral of an acquaintance, some missionaries made an appointment with me.
I let the two missionaries into my apartment. I looked into the face of one of the elders, and it seemed as though I had known him all my life. I had immediately the feelings I had felt on the Stroet in Copenhagen. I sat down and listened to the first discussion. I looked into the eyes of the elders and saw the sincerity of the testimony they bore. After several weeks of being taught by the missionaries, I joined the Church.
I have often thought about those missionaries that I watched during those afternoons in Copenhagen. If the two missionaries I followed had stopped in front of a pub and had been laughing and joking about beer, or if they had gone into some of the stores that you might expect young people to be curious about, the impact of their example on me would have disappeared. If they were anything but what they were, representing precisely what they did, the testimony expressed by their actions would have been lost.
The world walked by those missionaries that summer on the Stroet in Denmark. They never knew I was watching and that their presence bore testimony to me. They never knew that their example was what touched me and made me receptive to the gospel message. Although they never spoke to many of the people on that street, I wonder how many others were influenced as I was just by their example.

One day, I was playing a good, fun game on the Internet. Then I noticed that the website I was on was advertising games with blood and gore. I had an uncomfortable feeling, so I exited the website. Later I found the same game on a different website that did not advertise bad games. I felt way better after I turned off the website advertising bad games. I am glad I have the gift of the Holy Ghost so I can be protected and comforted. I am glad the Holy Ghost helps me make good choices.
Renton O., age 10, Utah

This story happened in the Philippines.
“I miss G-pop,” Macy told her grandma. She called her grandparents G-pop and G-mom. “Ever since he went to the hospital, I’ve wanted to help him. But I don’t know how.”
Macy pushed around the food on her plate. It was her favorite breakfast—rice, eggs, and hot dogs. But she felt too sad to eat.
G-mom put her arm around Macy. “I understand. Sometimes we feel helpless when someone we love is going through a difficult time. But remember, there are two people who love us even more than we can imagine.”
“Who?” Macy asked.
“Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ,” G-mom said. “When we have faith in Them, They guide us and give us strength.”
As Macy listened, her heart felt hopeful. She knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus could help G-pop.
That night, Macy knelt by her bed and closed her eyes.
“Heavenly Father, please watch over G-pop and help him feel better. I love him, and I love Thee too. Please help me to know what I can do for him.”
The next morning, Macy woke up to the sun shining through her curtains. She had an idea! Singing Primary songs and Church hymns was one of the things she and G-pop loved to do together. Maybe that would bring him comfort!
She got up, said her morning prayer, then asked G-mom if she could visit G-pop. Soon, they were on their way to the hospital together. She was excited to finally see G-pop again and hopefully make him smile.
When Macy walked into the hospital room, G-pop was sitting up in bed with a blanket over his legs. He looked tired. But when he saw Macy, his face lit up with joy. She ran to him and gave him a gentle hug.
“Good morning, G-pop!”
“What brings you here, my little lang-lang Macy?”
Lang-lang meant “love.” It was G-pop’s favorite nickname for Macy.
“I want to sing for you,” Macy said. She sat beside him on his bed and opened her songbook. “I am a child of God, and He has sent me here . . .” she began.
G-pop’s eyes filled with tears of joy. He joined in and started singing too.
“. . . has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear.”*
Their voices filled the small hospital room. Soon, G-mom joined in too. Macy had a peaceful feeling in her heart as they sang together.
When they finished, Macy reached out her hand, and G-pop held it tightly.
“Let’s pray, G-pop.”
Together they prayed, and Macy asked Heavenly Father to bless G-pop with strength and healing.
After the prayer, G-pop looked at Macy. “Thank you for your beautiful songs and prayers. You’ve helped me feel better. Even though you’re small, you have a big heart filled with love.”
Macy smiled. She was happy that her love and faith had helped G-pop feel better. She knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ would always be there to help her family in hard times.
Illustrations by Chrisanne Serafin

For many years, my mother has courageously struggled with health problems, the most difficult of which are recurring migraine headaches. While her pain has occasioned beautiful priesthood blessings and has increased our family unity, it has also required much faith, patience, and long-suffering while we have waited for the promised healing.
My perspective on my mother’s health struggles broadened after I returned from serving a mission to Panama. At that time my 17-year-old brother was also battling intense migraine headaches that left him debilitated.
Late one night I heard him crying out in pain. I approached his darkened doorway, only to pull back as I heard my mother’s soft voice from within his room. She spoke to him reassuringly, trying to soothe his cries of fear and pain. Standing outside the door, I heard his voice tense with a suffering incomprehensible to me. “Mom,” he asked, “am I going to die?”
I slowly backed away, his question tearing at my heart. But then I heard my mother, who knew exactly what he was experiencing, crying with him and telling him he would be all right.
That moment touched me, but its greater significance struck me some years later when I was preparing a lesson about the Atonement. Reflecting on the Savior’s vicarious suffering, I recalled my mother’s compassionate ministrations. My mother was better able to comfort my brother because she had felt what he was feeling; she understood his suffering. Linked to him by the pain they both had felt, she stayed ever near as he passed through his trial.
Observing my mother and learning of the Atonement taught me a valuable principle: sorrow and pain can teach us to nurture others in compassion and love. My mother’s example of compassion that night inspired in me a greater appreciation for the suffering our Savior went through. And in my own trials, I feel the unfailing presence of His Spirit comforting me “according to [my] infirmities”—just as my mother comforted my brother.

Illustration by Allen Garns
With my husband temporarily out of work, making ends meet for a family with five growing children was challenging. A day before the broadcast of the October 2013 general conference, we checked our food supplies and decided we would prepare a simple lunch of fried chicken and rice during the break between conference sessions.
Sunday came, and we were all set. The rest of our extended family, composed of my parents and my sisters and their families, met at the stake center half an hour before the broadcast started.
What a joy and a blessing it was to hear prophets, seers, and revelators share messages specifically for our generation. As I listened to the counsel and basked in the wonderful spirit of peace and love I felt from my Heavenly Father, I received the assurance that everything would be all right, that my family’s spiritual and temporal needs would be addressed, and that if I continued to exercise faith and let my Savior take the reins, we would be released from the grips of poverty and other hardships.
Enjoying the beautiful spirit of that Sabbath day, I had forgotten about lunch. Only when the break between sessions arrived did I realize there would be 17 of us. Nine adults and eight children would be sharing our meager meal of eight small pieces of chicken and a platter of rice, along with a bowl of pasta one of my sisters had brought.
Eight-year-old Henry offered a prayer of thanksgiving and blessing on our food, asking that all who partook would be filled. Then I broke each piece of chicken into smaller portions and handed these to the children as my sister placed pasta and rice on their plates. I could not keep tears from falling as I realized we had enough for one small serving for everyone and one extra serving after all the pieces were broken and the pasta and rice were divided among us. All of us then ate—and were filled.
I told my parents and husband that I knew of a surety that the Savior had indeed divided five loaves of bread and two fish and fed a multitude of “five thousand men, beside women and children” (see Matthew 14:14–21). Some critics and nonbelievers claim that the miracle was metaphorical, exaggerated, or impossible. But to my family and me, the account is true as written.
Heavenly Father had heard the prayer of a faithful child who gave thanks and requested the blessing that all who would partake would be filled and receive nourishment.
As we returned to the hall for general conference, I was feasting in my heart. I felt as though I were there with the multitude Jesus had fed, yearning to stay and learn from Him who promises that if we heed and hearken, we will never hunger or thirst (see John 6:35).
With our children we quietly took our seats inside the chapel and prepared to listen to Heavenly Father’s chosen servants. It was an occasion we will always remember.

Missionary service has ever called for courage. One who responded to this call was Randall Ellsworth. While serving in Guatemala as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Randall Ellsworth survived a devastating earthquake that hurled a beam down on his back, paralyzing his legs and severely damaging his kidneys. He was the only American injured in the quake, which claimed the lives of some eighteen thousand persons.
After receiving emergency medical treatment, he was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While Randall was confined there, a newscaster conducted with him an interview that I witnessed through the miracle of television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?”
The answer: “Not yet, but I will.”
“Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?”
Came the reply: “Others think not, but I will. With the president of my church praying for me, and through the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will walk, and I will return again to Guatemala. The Lord wants me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”
There followed a lengthy period of therapy, punctuated by heroic yet silent courage. Little by little, feeling began to return to the almost lifeless limbs. More therapy, more courage, more prayer.
At last, Randall Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he had been called—back to the people whom he loved. Behind he left a trail of skeptics and a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the example of courage.
On his return to Guatemala, Randall Ellsworth supported himself with the help of two canes. His walk was slow and deliberate. Then one day, as he stood before his mission president, Elder Ellsworth heard these almost unbelievable words spoken: “You have been the recipient of a miracle,” said the mission president. “Your faith has been rewarded. If you have the necessary confidence, if you have abiding faith, if you have supreme courage, place those two canes on my desk and walk.”
After a long pause, first one cane and then the other was placed on the desk, and a missionary walked. It was halting, it was painful—but he walked, never again to need the canes.
This spring I thought once more of the courage demonstrated by Randall Ellsworth. Years had passed since his ordeal. He was now a husband and a father. An engraved announcement arrived at my office. It read: “The President and Directors of Georgetown University announce commencement exercises of Georgetown University School of Medicine.” Randall Ellsworth received his Doctor of Medicine degree. More effort, more study, more faith, more sacrifice, more courage had been required. The price was paid, the victory won.

Sister Babata Sonnenberg was discouraged. As a young mother of five girls age eight and younger, she was surprised to be called to teach the 16- to 17-year-old Sunday School class in her ward. Months into her calling, she found class attendance sporadic and usually sparse. One Sunday a single boy showed up for class. Rather than teach just one student, she combined her class with another. She was ready to give up. But as she pondered and prayed about her bleak situation, inspiration came, and she had a change of heart.
Her husband, Ken, was the ward mission leader. The two of them felt prompted to combine their efforts to reach out to the youth of the ward. She would make chocolate cake, and he would invite the young people in the ward to come to their home each Sunday evening to eat the cake and discuss mission preparation. While the teens ate her cake, Sister Sonnenberg would invite them to her Sunday School class.
As a result of this “sweet” invitation, attendance climbed in the Sunday School class. But one young man, Nate, was not swayed by persistent invitations. Sister Sonnenberg felt she was losing one of her sheep. Her response to that feeling was to “go after that which [was] lost, until [she found] it” (Luke 15:4).” So rather than give up on Nate, Sister Sonnenberg came up with a plan.
One Sunday evening she went to Nate’s house. She found him home with another member of her class, who also hadn’t attended that day. She told both of them she had missed them in class and proceeded to teach them the lesson right then and there. Nate’s father, who had been recently released as bishop of the ward, was touched by this teacher’s persistence. He sent a text message to her husband that read: “Ken, please tell your wife thank you for me. Coming here and teaching Nate and McKay was inspired.”
Nevertheless, the next Sunday Nate again chose not to attend Sunday School. So Sister Sonnenberg went again to his home to have a gospel discussion with him. Nate figured that might happen, and he had gone to a friend’s house to hide. Sister Sonnenberg discovered him a few doors down from his home and shared the lesson there.
Finally, Nate decided to return to his Sunday School class.
Why did Nate come back?
Was it the chocolate cake Sister Sonnenberg served in her home?
Was it the visits she made to Nate’s home (and the neighbor’s home) to find him?
Was it encouragement from friends and family to attend church?
Or was it the love he felt from Sister Sonnenberg, his Sunday School teacher?
The answer is probably all of the above. For all these reasons and more, Nate began to attend Sunday School consistently, along with his friends.
So let me add the rest of the story. Because of how Nate came to feel about his Sunday School teacher, he didn’t pass up the opportunity to buy her chocolates when he later saw her at the mall. Sister Sonnenberg, who had shown him so much love, became a recipient of his love.
Soon thereafter, in September 2015, Nate completed his mission application and is now serving in the Mississippi Jackson Mission.
Other class members who struggled to attend Sunday School also decided to serve missions. Five young men and three young women who attended Sister Sonnenberg’s 16- to 17-year-old Sunday School class during her time as the teacher have served, or are serving, missions, and several others may yet serve.

On a vacation, I was traveling by ship down the Volga River in Russia, far from any LDS chapel. That Sunday I had planned to read the Book of Mormon alone in my cabin.
My plans changed when I found out the ship was leased for summer tours to a Latter-day Saint family. With permission from their Church leaders, they had scheduled a worship service for LDS passengers, including several Russian Latter-day Saints traveling on the ship. I was asked to bless the sacrament. I wondered if I would bless the sacrament alone and if I would be the only teenager there. I hoped not.
Later that morning when I entered the music salon where the meeting would be held, my anxious heart quieted as I saw other young men in ties and young women in dresses. I looked around for something resembling a sacrament table. To my right, I noticed that a white tablecloth from the dining hall had been spread over the piano bench. The bread and water trays sat on the white linen. The brother who had asked me to bless the sacrament introduced me to a young man.
“This is Sergei,” he said. “He will bless with you.”
Sergei, from Moscow, had just completed his service in the militia. He had met two missionaries in the subway. That eventually led to his baptism.
“Dobray Dien!” I said, practicing what little Russian I had learned.
“Dobray Dien,” he responded with a chuckle.
“Minyah Savoot, William,” I said, introducing myself.
“Minyah Savoot, Sergei.”
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“A little.”
He pulled out a sheet of paper—tattered from use—and unfolded it. It contained LDS religious terms with their definitions. He pointed to the word sacrament as if to communicate our role in the worship service. I nodded. He next pointed to the word bread and then to himself.
“Me?” he asked.
Then he pointed to the word water and then pointed to me, I understood. He would bless the bread. I would bless the water.
“Da,” I said in Russian, agreeing with his plan.
The music began, and a young man, Vladimir, led the congregation in “Come, Come, Ye Saints.” The curtains of the room had been drawn aside, and through the windows we saw a panoramic view of Russia’s countryside.
Sergei’s copy of the Book of Mormon was well used. He thumbed through its pages for the sacrament prayer.
We stood and broke the homemade Russian sourdough bread. I could hear the congregation singing “I Stand All Amazed,” half singing in Russian and the other half in English. No one had hymnbooks, so we sang from memory. I was impressed to hear the combination of Russian and English as if our voices were creating a new language.
When the hymn ended, I knelt with Sergei. As we knelt on the floor, I could feel a slight rocking of the ship. The congregation bowed their heads. Sergei began saying the prayer in Russian.
I felt the Spirit of God enter my heart and burn through my chest. Here we were, Sergei and I, on a ship far from our homes and families, two people from different continents and speaking different languages—but feeling the same Spirit. I understood the words he spoke, clearly and peacefully. I felt solemnity fill my mind.
After wiping a few tears from my eyes, I stood with Sergei. We passed the bread trays to three young priesthood holders, who then passed the bread to the congregation.
A few minutes later, I blessed the water in English, saying the prayer with more conviction than ever before. I felt as if I were actually speaking to the Lord. My heart swelled with joy as I said amen and stood to serve the water trays.
That day, Sergei and I had come together to do the Lord’s work. We had blessed the emblems Christ instituted just before his death and sacrifice. Sergei had spoken Russian. I had spoken English. But for all of us who were present, the language spoken was the Spirit.

Wong Yun Tai has no problem remembering the warm September evening in 1984. Two missionaries were tracting in the Wu Yuet House, a government housing project in the Tuen Mun area of Hong Kong’s New Territories where the Wong family lived. On the 21st floor, 15-year-old Wong Yun Tai, who goes by the English name of Belle, was eating dinner when a knock came at her door. Two strangers wearing ties, white shirts, and curious black name tags were talking to her through the metal gate that remained locked even though the door was open.
Belle was busy eating, so she told her two visitors to come back in an hour. “I was interested in religion, and I really wanted to know what was true. I just didn’t know which church was true. It was just like Joseph Smith. I really wanted to know which church was God’s true church,” recalls Belle.
When the missionaries returned, she listened politely to their message. Afterward, they gave her a Book of Mormon to read, closed with prayer, and then left. It was a simple meeting with powerful results. “When I prayed, I had a very unique, good feeling in my heart,” she says.
A month later, Belle was baptized. Then the real work began. Belle, the second oldest child of Wong Hong Tsuen and Wong Leung Nan Ho, wanted her parents and brothers and sisters to experience the same gospel joy that had become such an important part of her life. Belle began sharing what she had learned. And now, 11 years later, she’s still sharing.
Since those humble beginnings, seven of the eight Wong children have joined the Church, and Mom and Dad were baptized two years ago. Belle served a mission in Hong Kong, and two younger sisters, Angela and May, are currently missionaries in their native country, a British crown colony located near the southern tip of China.
The example Belle, who is now 26, set for her family is not lost on the two remaining teenagers in the Wong home—Belle’s younger sister, Wong Cho Ho, 19, who goes by the English name of Rambo, and 16-year-old Wong Wah Kan (Simon).
“Before I was a member, I’d always notice Belle. She wasn’t lazy. Every Sunday she’d get up and go to church,” says Simon, who was baptized in 1992. “When Belle was a missionary, she was a good example to my family and she helped us.”
Rambo, who adopted her unique English name several years ago, also credits her sister’s influence in her own conversion. “Belle has been a great example to me in my life,” she explains.
Because Rambo is the youngest Wong daughter, her parents were hesitant at first to allow her to join the Church. “When I was younger, I began going to church each Sunday even though I hadn’t been baptized,” she recalls. “At first, my parents didn’t want me to join the Church. So I would go with Belle every Sunday, but I wouldn’t take the sacrament.”
This is where the story takes on an ironic twist.
“A lot of members of the ward would look at me and think I was a member,” she continues. “They would ask me to be a fellowshipper for the missionaries’ investigators even though I was still an investigator myself. As I got older, my testimony began to develop and I learned more about the Church.”
When Rambo was finally baptized in 1990, she joined Belle in teaching gospel principles to older sisters Mandy, May, Angela, and Agnes, as well as to Simon. She also continued “officially” fellowshipping other investigators at church each Sunday. “When I was a kid, I liked to play and have fun. But when I got older, I received a testimony—a true testimony—and I wanted to share it,” Rambo says.
One of the first people Rambo thought of was Agnes. “When I would go to church, at first I was pretty bored. I liked to talk to the missionaries, but I didn’t like to talk about the Church,” says Agnes, who is two years older than Rambo. “Rambo would talk to me and try to help me understand more about the gospel. Finally I decided to investigate the Church because Belle was so serious and made so many sacrifices for the Church, and I could see what the Church was beginning to mean to Rambo.”
Rambo also talked about the gospel with Simon and helped him with his decision to be baptized. Simon’s now a priest in the Tuen Mun Second Ward.
So this is how it works. Two missionaries talk to Belle, Belle joins the Church and begins fellowshipping Rambo. Rambo is baptized and begins talking about the gospel with Agnes and Simon. Agnes and Simon are baptized, as are Mandy, the Wongs’ oldest daughter, and May and Angela. This wasn’t trickle-down fellowshipping. This was a waterfall.
Simon likes to think back to the time when he began seriously investigating the gospel. He remembers praying for the first time. “I really didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to pray or what I should say,” he remembers. “But I always felt good when I prayed.”
Before Simon joined the Church, Sundays were reserved for rest and relaxation. He would generally sleep in, then get up and play soccer with his friends. These days, his friends don’t even bother asking him to play games on the Sabbath. “They know now that I won’t play on Sunday. I’ve already told them I don’t do that, and they understand why I don’t and what I do instead,” he says. Sundays for Simon generally consist of church meetings and scripture reading. “I love studying in the Book of Mormon—especially about Lehi and the faith he had. My own faith isn’t great so it’s good for me to read about someone who was so strong.”
Belle loves to talk about the impact the gospel has had in the lives of her family members, but deflects any credit aimed at her. Instead she acknowledges the role of the Spirit in helping her family grow in the gospel. “I don’t know how much help I’ve been to my family, but I do know Heavenly Father has helped my family a lot.”
Simon disagrees with his big sister’s assessment of her role. “When Belle was a missionary, it brought my family many blessings. I think she was a great missionary, and I know she helped a lot of investigators receive baptism,” he says.
Simon should know. Once upon a time, he was one of those investigators. Now, each night as they sit down to dinner, Mandy, Agnes, Rambo, Simon, and Brother and Sister Wong can look at one another and see living proof of Belle’s gospel-sharing legacy.

Then, in words of soberness, he told me this story. When he was quite a young man, the Prince of Wales Colliery was the pride of the valley. Almost every family in the village had someone who worked there. But one spring day an explosion occurred deep underground, and a fire broke out in the passages where the coal was mined. Rescue teams tried to reach the trapped men, but each time the fire drove them back. So, in a desperate attempt to save the mine, the owners ordered the canal that ran close-by to be turned into the mine.

One hundred and eighty-four men and boys were trapped in the bowels of the earth. Those who were not burned by the explosion were drowned by the water that came pouring in. Hundreds of the villagers gathered around the mine, waiting to see if any were rescued. But as the hours passed, hope turned to despair. The rescue team that went down returned with saddened faces.

“No one,” they said, “could possibly have lived through those awful conditions.”

Still the villagers waited, for down below in the earth were their loved ones, and they did not wish to return home without them.

It was when the sun had touched the hilltop and the first shadows had settled on the village that it happened. Someone cried out, and a pair of hands could be seen climbing the cables that raised and lowered the cage. Eager hands assisted the man from those awful cables. The flesh was hanging in shreds from his hands, his clothing almost burned from his body. Tenderly they laid him down, and the doctor ministered to him as best he could. The man was near to death, but the courage that caused him to climb from the darkness of the mine to the day above would help him to live again. The man was Jimmy Drew.

The question on everyone’s lips was, “How could a man live through explosion, fire, and water and then climb those hundreds of feet on a steel cable and still live?”

That question was never answered, for God in his mercy had closed the mind of Jimmy Drew so that he would never tell of his terrible ordeal. I remember still how my father put his arm around me and pulled me close to him and together we shed tears.