Gospel Story Finder

I sat in my living room crying. It had been only a few days since I had had a miscarriage, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the loss of our baby. So many things reminded me of the tragedy, especially my closet full of maternity clothes.
Every time I went into my room, the clothes seemed to stare at me from their hangers. Most of them were brand new and never worn, reminding me that I was no longer pregnant. I was still too weak to stand up for more than a few seconds to put them away.
Suddenly someone knocked on my door. When I opened it, I saw my visiting teacher standing on the doorstep. It was the same visiting teacher who had been watching my children when my doctor confirmed to my husband and me that I had miscarried.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I need your help putting away my maternity clothes.”
I led her into the bedroom, emptied drawers, and stripped hangers. Then I lay in bed while she folded my clothes and gently laid them in boxes. After she had taped the boxes and carried them downstairs so I wouldn’t have to look at them, I felt my spirits lift.
Afterward she went into the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters, and tidied up—things I still wasn’t able to do. When she left, my house was clean, my clothes were out of sight, and my heart wasn’t quite so heavy anymore.
The Apostle John taught, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear” (1 John 4:18). When we reach out to share the Savior’s love, we are strengthened by His courage. Because my visiting teacher was filled with the love of Christ, she came immediately when the Spirit prompted her to come.
We received many expressions of love during that terrible time, including flowers, cards, cupcakes, and childcare, all of which we appreciated. But the expression that helped the most was when my visiting teacher, not knowing how badly I needed her, knocked on my door, and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

A few months after finding the poem—while serving in the mission office—I traveled to Trujillo, Peru. There I met Elsa Hauyon, who was then 82 years old. She turned out to be my grandfather’s cousin, the only relative I have ever known who grew up with him in China. I spent hours talking to her, recording the names of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters. I learned that there were 13 of them and not just the four my grandfather spoke of. With Elsa’s help, I also traced our family back to the founder of my grandfather’s hometown.

Another sacred family history event also occurred while I served as a missionary. Upon arriving in Peru, I was assigned to Callao, the port of Lima. It was most remarkable because, unbeknownst to me at the time, the tombs of my Swiss ancestors were in that very city. A relative eventually told me about the tombs, but I was unable to find them before being transferred to another city.

However, I believe the Lord wanted me to find my ancestors. While missionaries are seldom assigned to the same branch twice, I was. Almost a year later, I came back to Callao, and this time I discovered there were two adjacent cemeteries, one where my Schlupp ancestors are buried and the other where the records (dating back to 1820) for the family are stored. Searching through the records, I finally came across what I was looking for: “Elizabeth Schlupp, 57 years old, buried September 16, 1875; Ana Maria Schlupp Kruse, 66 years old, buried January 24, 1918.” I had found my Swiss ancestors!

I was ecstatic. I was able to complete four generations of my family history at last. Of all the places I could have been assigned, the Lord had called me not once but twice to Callao—the place where I could locate my Swiss ancestors.

All of these wonderful events happened during the six years after my baptism. When I look back on my youth, I realize how much my testimony of the Church and its divinity has been strengthened through family history work and the Spirit of Elijah. I can truly say I have felt the Lord’s influence many times in turning my heart to my ancestors. That chord, struck by my branch president who was inspired to get me started at age 16 with family history, still resonates today in the most sacred experiences of my soul.

“Elijah came not only to stimulate research for ancestors. He also enabled families to be eternally linked beyond the bounds of mortality. Indeed, the opportunity for families to be sealed forever is the real reason for our research. The Lord declared through the Prophet Joseph Smith: ‘These are principles in relation to the dead and the living that cannot be lightly passed over, as pertaining to our salvation. For their salvation is necessary and essential to our salvation, … they without us cannot be made perfect—neither can we without our dead be made perfect’ [D&C 128:15].”Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “A New Harvest Time,” Ensign, May 1998, 34.

The noise level in my biology class was rising rapidly. You could feel the students’ excitement for the Christmas break. The teachers couldn’t hold the students’ attention on this Friday afternoon. As a class officer, I had been working along with others gathering donations to give to families in need at Christmastime. That weekend we would shop for gifts and food and make the deliveries.
It was finally the big day. Divided into groups, we were given envelopes which contained the money that we were to spend on our assigned families. We were given just the ages of those we were to buy for, no names.
When we were finished shopping, we wrapped the gifts and piled the food into boxes. We soon found ourselves inside the vans that were taking us to the homes to deliver the gifts. After stopping out of sight of the home, we carefully and quietly spaced ourselves three feet apart. A signal was given quietly, and the presents went one by one through each of our hands until they reached the front step.
As I took a moment to look around, it seemed as if time had stood still. It was such a magical moment. The silence that penetrated that spot of ground was amazing. I wanted to capture that moment of peaceful, heart-felt giving. It was as if the group of us were angels doing the Lord’s work through secret acts of service. The dreamlike state I was in was quickly dimmed by a nudge. It was time to get into the vans. Someone rang the doorbell, and before we had a chance to leave, we were caught! The mother took one long look at the pile of gifts and food, and with a tear-streamed face said, “Thank you, thank you. Merry Christmas.” We darted off into different directions until we reached the van. Our teenage hearts were definitely filled with good feelings. We continued to deliver gifts for the next hour.

By noon the group was hiking toward another lake. The trail switched back and forth gently, dropping down the slopes. Sometimes a lower part of the trail would be only a few feet away.
“We thought it was crazy not to take a shortcut,” Mike Worthington said. Some tried it. Greg stopped everybody.
“Stay on the trail,” he advised. “You think you’re saving time, but you’re not. And if the trail erodes the wrong way, you ruin it for people who come after you.”
“The next lake has golden trout in it,” Greg announced. “If we hurry, we might be able to catch a few before dark.” Packs were repacked and lifted to shoulders again.
Even though they’d been warned once about shortcutting, some of the young men thought the route back to the main trail was too roundabout and tedious.
“It looked like we could just cut through the trees,” Clay Drake said. “But we got lost. It took two hours for us to get back together with the rest of the group, and they all had to wait while the guides went back to look for us. The next time a guide tells me what to do, I’ll listen to him.”
There are times, the Explorers and Scouts found out, when you have to trust someone else, times when your safety and well-being depend on it. The young men also learned a little bit about perseverance. They hiked more than five miles each of the four days they spent in the Wind Rivers. Every day it became easier and more enjoyable.

As a teenager, David was the only consistently active member of the Church in his family. He has an older brother and sister and a younger brother. “Having to stay active alone can either push you away or pull you in. I guess it pulled me in.”
David said, “I looked up to several people in my ward. I wanted to be around people who understood the gospel. To me the Book of Mormon is so obviously good and right. It just exudes this goodness. When you read it you feel like the Lord is right there and nodding his head. I’ve had to do a lot of soul searching, but I felt like I had the testimony to see me through.”
His interest in the gospel also led to his college major. He wanted to learn more about the ancient land of the prophets, but during his stay in Jerusalem he became more interested in the modern Middle East. “I get very emotionally involved when I hear reports from the Middle East. It’s a powerful place, and it has its own beauty. I find the Arabic language an incredible challenge,” said David.
That challenge might be the thing that leads David away from cartooning. He presently works for a computer firm specializing in Arabic software. And he would love to continue his Near Eastern studies into graduate school.
But right now there’s this slope-shouldered, big-nosed, bemused fellow with no forehead that keeps popping up in the strangest places. And he’s making a lot of people laugh.

I give you an example of how this works. Let me share with you an experience of President Heber J. Grant. While he was a member of the Council of the Twelve, when asked by the President of the Church to submit names, he repeatedly submitted that of a very good friend of his for consideration to fill existing vacancies among the Twelve. The man was never chosen, and President Grant is reported to have said at one time that if he ever became President of the Church and there was a vacancy to fill, he would call that man because he was so well qualified.

After he became President and it was necessary to fill a vacancy, he told the Lord that he knew whom he wanted, but that he wanted to select the man the Lord wanted and would like to have. The name of Melvin J. Ballard, whom President Grant knew only slightly, came into his mind and kept coming to let him know that he was the man who should be called; and he was nominated by President Grant and approved by the Twelve.

“I’d like to say that I grew up in the Church,” says Bert, “but I didn’t. I’m considered a convert by Church standards, because I wasn’t baptized until I was twelve, although I went to Primary. I came from a part-member family.”
Bert’s father, a tough, determined, highly-respected police officer, refused to give permission for his son’s baptism; then, “when I was twelve, I really got emphatic. He finally consented, and my brother and I were both baptized. I was ordained a deacon shortly after that.” Within a year, however, Bert was enrolled in a military boarding school, complete with its own non-denominational Protestant church. During the next five years, he recalls, the influence of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints “just started fading away.”
Amanda was not a member of the Church when she and Bert met, nor was she a Latter-day Saint when they married a few years later. Bert had become somewhat active during his air force training in California; but, he says, “things were moving slowly for me.” Shortly after their marriage, however, “my life started to change because of her.
“We were married after I was commissioned as an officer in the air force.” (Amanda, by this time, had earned a degree in secondary education from the University of Hawaii.) “For a while we lived in California; then we moved to Kansas after some air force training in Texas. Two weeks after we arrived in Kansas, I think the Lord felt it was time that Amanda found out about the Church. Although we had been attending meetings, we hadn’t gotten really serious about the Church.
Bert was sent to Greenland for 109 days, and since the couple had not yet found an apartment in Kansas, Amanda stayed with Bert’s cousin and his wife. The relatives were active Church members, and they and the stake missionaries began encouraging Amanda to schedule her baptism for the same day as the cousin’s eight-year-old daughter’s.
Amanda was unhappy about the situation. “I didn’t think they should know when I was going to be ready; but they said they knew, and they had set the date.”
“I felt a little bad about that,” says Bert, remembering the letter Amanda sent him at the time. “I was a little embarrassed, because that was my church. But then the next week I got another letter saying, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. I’m being baptized Saturday.’”
“They did know,” smiles Amanda. “I was ready.”
Following Amanda’s conversion, Bert began to progress in the Church as well. He was ordained a priest, then an elder, and the DuPonts were soon sealed in the temple.
Still, Bert had questions. “I’m not ashamed to admit it—I had some doubts about the Church, and one of them concerned the reality of a modern-day prophet.” In time, Bert would receive that testimony in a very personal way—from a prophet of God himself.
Along with continuing spiritual growth came additional Church responsibilities, the adoption of two sons, and rapid professional advancement. As a colonel in the air force, Bert was known and respected for his integrity, willingness to work, and his ability to get the job done. Such a reputation made him a top candidate for assignment in Montevideo, Uruguay, in the early 1970s as an adviser to that country’s military services. He was offered the position, but the decision to accept or refuse it was his. “I looked at a Church directory to see if the Church was there,” he says. “There were two stakes, so I thought, ‘Well, we’ll go.’” Then he and Amanda went to Washington, D.C., where he took an intensive six-month course in Spanish language and culture.
But then came a telephone call for Bert from his superiors. “They said, ‘We need you more in Bogota, Colombia, than we do in Montevideo, so we are changing your assignment.’ I could find no Church listings for Colombia, so I refused, and there was nothing they could say to change my mind.
“Then one day I had another telephone call from an officer. I tried to explain to him that I was a member of the Church and why I didn’t want to go to Colombia. It turned out that he was a member of the Church, the senior president of the seventies in his stake, and he said, ‘Brother DuPont, have you ever thought that maybe the Lord has a job for you to do in Colombia?’ It was the first time we had thought of it like that. We decided that we would go.”
Once in Colombia, the DuPonts found that the Lord did indeed have a job for them—several jobs, in fact. “I really feel,” says Bert, “though I didn’t feel that way at the time, that we were sent there to help with the Church. When the Church moves into a new area, the people who are converted are not the bank presidents or the university professors; they are the humblest and the poorest people. And all we had there were missionaries from the United States, who often weren’t accepted by the people. I was somewhat different because of my rank in the air force; being in the military helped. And I wasn’t white; that helped, too. Missionaries would tell the people something, and they wouldn’t believe it; but if we walked in the door and said the same thing, they would listen.”
Soon after the DuPonts arrived in Bogota, Bert was called to be a counselor in the district presidency; later he served as a branch president in Bogota. Amanda, warmly interested in her Colombian sisters, learned the language and was called to assume leadership responsibilities in the Relief Society and Young Women organizations. Both the DuPonts were loved and honored for their commitment to the gospel and their daily acts of Christian service.
A good part of their service embraced the missionary effort; still developing in Colombia some twelve years ago, the Church needed all the strong testimonies and good examples it could get. One returned missionary who served in Colombia recalls that the DuPonts were “great examples for the Saints. They demonstrated what home teaching and visiting teaching really were; what home evening is all about, and what it means to love and serve each other.”
The DuPonts’ home was a much-loved gathering place for the elders and sisters. Bert remembers, “We’d sometimes have as many as sixty missionaries over for dinner for the big U.S. holidays—Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas.”
From their earliest days in Colombia, the matter of heritage played a significant role in the DuPonts’ remarkable success story. Consider, for example, their participation in the Church’s first youth conference in that country. Invited to provide some Hawaiian entertainment, they drove ten hours over a tortuous mountain road to attend the conference.
Once there, Bert was asked to speak. “As I looked out into that group—the leaders and the youth—I was struck by the impression that it was like I was in Hawaii. They all looked like my relatives; their Indian background matched up with the Hawaiians and the Polynesians. So I decided I would tell them about Hagoth, the Nephite shipbuilder; I started out talking about that, and about how they looked like my uncles and aunts back in Hawaii. Our relationship with them grew from that. I told them, ‘When I say hermanos y hermanas to you, I don’t mean brothers and sisters only in the gospel; I really mean that we have a blood relationship—the blood of Israel is here.’”
The “blood of Israel” image became still more personal when Bert and Amanda invited his parents to visit them in Bogota. It was a new beginning.
“My dad was a good man,” reflects Bert, “but we couldn’t convince him to join the Church—even though whenever he visited us, he would comment about the happiness we had in our family, and how he wished the other children could have it.”
Late one night during his parents’ visit, Bert was awakened. “I was prompted,” he recalls, “to go and challenge my dad—again—to be baptized, even though he had refused many times before. I woke Amanda (I always have to confer with her, because she’s got the Spirit!), told her my feeling, and she said, ‘Well, I guess you’d better go do it.’ So I went into his room … it was like Daniel going into the lions’ den.”
Bert woke his father, bore testimony, issued the challenge. The response? “My dad put his arms around me and hugged me and cried. He had been shot, stabbed, and injured many times during his life as a police officer, and he had never before shed a tear as far as I knew.”
Within weeks, Brother DuPont had fully embraced the gospel. “The missionaries from the U.S. could not teach him in English,” Bert explains, “because they only knew their discussions in Spanish. So I interpreted for them. My parents came to church with us every Sunday even though they couldn’t understand what was going on because everything was spoken in Spanish. But evidently my father could feel something—and I believe it was the spirit of the people. There was standing room only the day he was baptized.”
It wasn’t until 1975, after Bert and Amanda had returned to Hawaii, that Bert’s testimony of the living prophet was solidly confirmed. Bert had been asked to assist with security measures for President Spencer W. Kimball who was making a short visit to Bogota. Bert’s description of the experience is a moving testimony of the prophet’s influence:
“President Kimball shook my hand, and it felt like electricity going up my arm. He looked into my eyes, and that was it; I knew. We were together a good deal of the time, and it was the most wonderful experience.
“We had family home evening at the mission home, and I was the only one without my family. I sat right next to President Kimball, and he put his arm around me. Then we knelt down, and the mission president asked the President to give the family prayer. My whole life changed in those moments; I just knew he was a prophet. It was the full conversion.”
Meanwhile, Amanda recalls with a knowing smile, while Bert was with the President, “things weren’t going too well back home. I was in a car accident; I wasn’t hurt, but the car was damaged.”
“You have to understand,” adds Bert, “that I was a person who had to have everything neat and clean. You didn’t touch my car, because you might leave a fingerprint on it.”
Amanda says their two sons, “Duane and Doug, kept saying, ‘Oh, boy, wait until Dad comes home and sees the car.’ The day Bert arrived home, they wouldn’t even go to the airport with me to meet him, so I went by myself; there hadn’t been time to get the car fixed.”
But something had changed. “Bert came off that airplane, and I think he was walking above the ground. When he saw me, all he could talk about was what a great experience it was to be with the prophet. He went right past the damaged fender on the car and didn’t even see it.
“When we got home, the boys were peeking out from behind the drapes. Bert said, ‘Okay, when my boys are hiding, something’s happened.’ So I had to show him the damaged fender. He looked at it, turned to me, and said, ‘Oh, Mom, I’m really glad you didn’t get hurt.’ Then he gave me a big hug.”
The stories go on and on. The DuPonts have opened their arms and home to a procession of foster children, less-fortunate Colombian friends and fellow Saints, missionaries whose finances and confidence needed help, and anyone else who can use a warm Hawaiian greeting, a generous sampling of Amanda’s expert cooking, or a gentle but persuasive nudge in the general direction of truth and righteousness.
“We love people,” says Amanda, “and the gospel gives us direction in serving and helping them wherever we can.”

by Cathe Chapman
The memory of piles and piles of crushed granite remains in the minds of 70 youth from the Mesa Arizona Stake. As a service project in conjunction with their youth conference, they gathered at 5:30 in the morning at the Ho Ho Kam Park, winter home of the Chicago Cubs baseball team. They had been asked by the bicentennial committee of the city of Mesa to help improve the looks of the park. The piles of crushed granite had been dumped into the meridians that bordered the driveways and parking lot. Seventy-five tons needed to be shoveled and raked evenly.
“It’s a great project,” said Tony Curtis, a priest in the Mesa 23rd Ward, “because we are in service to the community.” The group worked at a fast pace because they were determined to beat the heat of the blazing Arizona sun.
When they finished the work, they were dirty, hot, and tired, and more than ready to participate in the water carnival planned for the afternoon.
The city of Mesa was so pleased with the work, they wrote a special letter thanking everyone who participated.

One day the sister missionaries knocked on my door and my mother answered. I remember her telling them, “Well, I am not interested, but my daughter would be. Wait, I will get her.”
When I started to talk to them, I could feel the Spirit telling me to listen. After a few months of listening and learning, I knew that this was what I had been looking for. Even though it didn’t feel like it to begin with, my decision to be baptized helped me to come not only closer to the Lord and but also closer to ending my ongoing battle against loneliness.

“Hold onto my basket,” Mother told Elizabeth as they left the bakery. “And take Charlotte’s hand.” Mother stopped suddenly. She had forgotten for a moment that Charlotte had died. “Hold on tight,” she said, her voice quavering. “I don’t want to lose you too.” Mother shifted baby Ellen on her hip and set off down the sidewalk.
Elizabeth followed, dutifully holding the basket’s handle. Usually she would have helped herself to a piece of warm bread, but today she wasn’t hungry.
On a street corner a man was holding up a book and talking loudly. “What’s he saying?” Elizabeth asked. “He has a strange way of speaking.”
“He’s not from England. I think he’s from America. He says that the elders of his church have authority to bless the sick and that those who are not appointed unto death will be healed.” Mother sighed. “If only we had known.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what all this meant. All she knew was that she was cold and tired and wanted to go home.
Later that night, Elizabeth’s father looked at her across the dinner table. “You haven’t said a word,” he said. “Are you feeling sad about Charlotte?”
Mother studied her daughter a moment and then jumped up in alarm. “Oh please, no!” she exclaimed, putting her hand on Elizabeth’s sweaty forehead. “It’s not sadness,” she told her husband. “It’s a fever. Run for the doctor. Quick!”
By the time the doctor arrived, Elizabeth was unconscious. He examined her and then turned sadly to her parents. “It’s scarlet fever,” he said.
“Can’t you do anything?” Mother pleaded. “We lost our daughter Charlotte to the fever already.”
The doctor pulled a small bottle of medicine from his bag. “Give her a dose if she awakens. But I won’t lie to you—she is already near death and will not regain consciousness. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
After the doctor left, Father pounded his fist on the table. “Why would a loving God take our children? I can’t believe they have already lived out their appointed times.”
Mother grabbed his arm. “Francis, go for the Mormon elders at once and ask them to come pray for our little girl.” Father hesitated, but Mother insisted. “I believe their words, Francis. If they bless her she will get well.”
Father found the elders and brought them home. One of them anointed Elizabeth’s head with oil. Both laid their hands on her head and the other one solemnly pronounced a blessing, promising Elizabeth that she would get well. He also promised that she would become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that she would go to Utah, and that she would live to become a mother in Israel. The fever immediately left Elizabeth’s body, and she fell into a peaceful sleep.
The next morning the doctor came with a death certificate. “Sorry to intrude,” he apologized, “but I need to fill this out on Elizabeth.”
“Please come in and join us,” Mother said happily. “We were just having bread and butter for breakfast. At Elizabeth’s request.”
The doctor could scarcely believe his eyes. There was Elizabeth, sitting up and eating. “That medicine worked wonders!” he declared. “This is a miracle!”
Father handed him the unopened medicine bottle. “A miracle, yes,” he said. “But not from the medicine. The Mormon elders blessed her.”
“Well,” the doctor said, “I don’t know anything about the Mormons, but I know that she was certainly dying last night. Good day to you all.”
When the doctor was gone, Elizabeth set down her bread. “What is a mother in Israel?” she asked.
Mother looked at her in surprise. “Did you hear the blessing?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “I couldn’t open my eyes or speak, but as soon as I felt hands on my head, I could hear every word.”
“Those were promises from God,” Father said.
“Promises to me?” Elizabeth asked, wide-eyed. “Will they really happen?”
“Yes,” Father said, looking at Mother. “I believe they really will.”

A lot of us are not willing to step on the starter or the gas as we journey along through life. I met a student who was like that when I was dean of the College of Agriculture at Utah State University. One day I had a phone call from the Admissions Office and was told, “Dean Bennett, we have a young man here who wants to transfer from BYU to Utah State, and he wants to register in your college. His record at the Y was terrible. On the basis of his record we cannot accept him. Now, if you would be willing to interview him, put him on probation, and accept him on that basis, that is all right with us.”
I said, “Send his record over and let me have about 15 minutes to look at it. Then send him over. I would like to talk to him personally.”
They sent his record over. It was just as bad as they had said it was—just terrible—but I knew that this young man had just returned from a mission and that a mission sometimes helps a young man set serious goals and objectives and get control of himself. I was, therefore, interested in interviewing him.
He came over. The first question I asked him was, “Your record at the Y was not very good, was it?” He said, “Oh, I suppose it could have been better.” He spoke in a lackadaisical manner. That told me something—something I was looking for, something about his attitude—so I began digging beneath the surface a bit and coming at him from different angles. After three-quarters of an hour I was convinced his attitude was not good, and I decided to jar him.
“On the basis of your record at the Y,” I said, “I should not agree to your admittance. On the basis of your attitude, I am not going to admit you.”
That jarred him, and he immediately started coming at me from different angles, trying to get me to reconsider. But I was firm. Finally I got through to that young man when I said, “Have you ever stopped to realize that to you as an individual the most important life that will ever be lived is your life, and here you are, wasting it away. You seem to be satisfied with the situation. Have you ever stopped to think that the greatest loss of power that we have in this world is the loss that results from the failure of individuals to reach their potential?” The tears started to stream down his cheeks. He arose from his chair, snapped his fingers, and said, “I’ll accept your challenge if you will just admit me. I will demonstrate that I can cut the muster.”
I said, “Do you really mean that?” He said, “I do, and I am pleading for another chance.” I replied, “If you really mean it, I will give you that chance.” He said, “I really mean it.”
“All right,” I said, “I will approve your admittance.” And I did.
That young man established some goals that day, and he was serious about them. He went to work. Oh, how he worked. Winter quarter he got better than a B- average as I recall. Spring quarter he improved upon that; and he went on and on and graduated from Utah State University. I look back upon that experience as one of the choice experiences of my life—getting through to that young man, arousing him, and awakening him to the point where he established goals that were challenging.

Although severely wounded with grief and beset with major problems that made the going anything but smooth, from that time President Young acted with inspired single-mindedness and effectiveness to shepherd the stunned Church and unite it under the authority of the Twelve, as he was certain Joseph had intended. He led the apostles back from the East on August 6, amid rumors that some of the mob were still lying in wait to kill them. They found that Sidney Rigdon, the only remaining official member of the First Presidency, had returned from Pittsburgh, where he had gone over a year before when a rift had developed between him and the Prophet. Now he was claiming the right to act as guardian of the Church for Joseph. The President of the Quorum acted swiftly to unify the leaders, and then the body of the Saints, against this and other claims that threatened the Church with disintegration. The next morning he met with all the apostles at the home of John Taylor, who was still recovering from terrible wounds received at the martyrdom, and then in the afternoon with all the Church leaders at the Seventies’ Hall, where he effectively rebutted Sidney Rigdon’s claims. With inspired assurance Elder Young moved to the next day a general meeting that had been called for a week later and there brought about an orderly and unifying succession of leadership. As he described it to his daughter in that letter of August already quoted:
“The Brethren were overjoyed to see us come home, for they were little children without a father, and they felt so, you may be sure. All things are now reviving up again. The brethren prayed with all faith for us to return. … I have been in council almost all the time since I arrived here. But this much I can say, the spirit of Joseph is here, though we cannot enjoy their persons. Through the great anxiety of the Church there was a conference held last Thursday [August 8]. The power of the priesthood was explained and the order thereof, on which the whole Church lifted up their voices and hands for the Twelve to move forward and organize the Church and lead it as Joseph led it, which is our indispensable duty to do.”
All things were, in fact, “reviving up again,” despite the unsettled conditions only a few days earlier, and the process was successful mainly because through the power of the Lord “the spirit of Joseph” did indeed manifest itself in remarkable, to many witnesses even miraculous, ways.
There is much evidence—from Brigham Young’s own account of the meeting, from the record of the speech he gave there, and from the accounts of others—that he spoke in a new voice that day, yet one that was familiar to those who knew Joseph Smith. In his own diary Brigham recorded:
“This day is long to be remembered by me. … Now Joseph is gone, it seemed as though many wanted to draw off a party and be leaders. But this cannot be. The Church must be one or they are not the Lord’s; the saints looked as though they had lost a friend that was able and willing to counsel them in all things; in this time of sorrow … I arose and spoke to the people. My heart was swollen with compassion towards them and by the power of the Holy Ghost, even the spirit of the prophets, I was enabled to comfort the hearts of the Saints. … I laid before them the order of the Church and the power of the priesthood. After a long and laborious talk of about two hours in the open air with the wind blowing, the Church was of one heart and one mind. They wanted the Twelve to lead the Church as Br. Joseph had done in his day.”25
The speech shows that Brigham Young indeed had the “spirit of the prophets,” that through the power of the Holy Ghost he spoke with a new sense of authority that both recalled to the people their lost Prophet and yet encouraged them to look forward to the great destiny of the Lord’s Church that had been restored:
“Attention all! … For the first time in my life, for the first time in your lives, … without a prophet at our head, do I step forth to act in my calling in connection with the Quorum of the Twelve, as Apostles of Jesus Christ, … who are ordained and anointed to bear off the keys of the kingdom of God in all the world. …
“You did not know who you had amongst you. … He loved you unto death—you did not know it until after his death; he has now sealed his testimony with his blood. There is much to be done. … as for myself I am determined to build up the kingdom of God. …
“Brother Joseph the Prophet has laid the foundation for a great work and we will build upon it. … There is an almighty foundation laid, and we can build a kingdom such as there never was in the world.”26
Wilford Woodruff recounted, long after, “Just as quick as Brigham Young rose in that assembly, his face was that of Joseph Smith— … the power of God that was upon Joseph Smith was upon him, he had the voice of Joseph.”27
This miraculous descent of the mantle of the Prophet upon Brigham Young was later recalled by many who were in the audience,28 but the crucial thing was that whatever they remembered of the miraculous was confirmed in the following months by the reality of President Young’s leadership as he did in very fact become a Joseph—a clearly inspired prophet—to his people. As William Burton wrote the next May: “But [Joseph’s and Hyrum’s] places were filled by others much better than I once supposed they could have been, the spirit of Joseph appeared to rest upon Brigham.”29

As a freshman in high school, Jacqueline C., from Indiana, USA, was asked to design costumes for all 25 members of her school’s play. The play was set in the late 1800s in the southern United States, so designing costumes that fit the time and place was not an easy task.
Jacqueline started by reading books about costume design, researching the time period, and looking at lots of pictures. She also spent time talking with the director about how each character should be portrayed.
After all her research, Jacqueline designed the costumes, and she made sure all the actors looked their part. “There are two characters in the play that are complete opposites,” Jacqueline says. “Their actions showed that they were opposites, and I made sure their costumes did too.”
When actors are dressed appropriately for their character, it adds a lot to the play. “Their costumes pull the whole show together and give it a polished look,” Jacqueline explains. As a costume designer, Jacqueline knows the importance of actors’ looking their part, and as a Latter-day Saint, she knows the importance of our looking our part too. “The first impression the world has of us is based on how we look,” she says.

Tara had special feelings about adoption. She had known since she was very young that she was adopted.

She never got tired of hearing the story of how she had come to her family. Her parents had volunteered to become foster parents through the county’s social services department. Tara’s birth parents hadn’t been able to take care of her, and she had been placed in foster care.

Her parents explained how police officers had brought Tara to them. Mom told her that she had been dressed in a diaper and a T-shirt and had been wrapped in a pink blanket. Tara now kept the blanket in a chest along with other special things.

“As soon as I held you in my arms, I knew that you were going to be an important part of our family,” her mother said when she told the story.

Eight years ago, when Tara was three years old, her parents had adopted her. Her whole family had gone to the Denver Colorado Temple for the sealing. The story always made Tara feel good.

It wasn’t until the end of my eighth grade year that I realized I was very different from my classmates and even my best friends, who were nonmembers. I was faced with a situation that really bothered me. In class we were debating some controversial topics, including abortion. When I shared my thoughts, I was surprised to see my moral values ripped to pieces. Something I feel is so precious—physical intimacy, something that should be reserved for marriage—was simply a fun pastime to other people. I walked out of the classroom that day knowing that things were going to be very different.

In the same class, I was faced with another moment that would force me to act on all of the things I had been taught since Primary. My teacher was in the front of the class, talking about a snippet of a movie we were about to watch. Some of my classmates suggested that we watch the whole movie. My teacher shook her head and nonchalantly explained that she couldn’t because the movie had a mature rating. I was stunned when I first heard this. I never thought this would happen.

I sat in my chair, thinking about what I should do. A thought kept coming into my head: We have been asked not to watch offensive movies. I tried to rationalize that because I was in school, the part of the movie we were going to watch would be appropriate. But the thought of not watching offensive movies trumped my rationalizations.

I calmly raised my hand, and in front of my whole class, I asked to sit outside of class while the movie played. I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I pushed in my chair and grabbed my book. I saw the looks on their faces; they simply didn’t understand.

While sitting in the hallway, I felt very happy. I knew I had done the right thing, no matter what my peers or teacher said. I felt stronger too. I knew I didn’t have to watch an inappropriate movie clip just because my teacher had presented it to us.

Since then, I have often thought about the Mormonad hanging up in my room. It reads, “Adversity Can Make You Strong.” I believe that when we are faced with moments of adversity and we stand up to them, we are made stronger than if we had sat down and let them happen.

This is an inner strength that is found through our Savior. If we look to Him in our times of difficulty, we will be made strong. Our faith in Him can help us face adversity unashamed. We must “be strong and of a good courage” (Joshua 1:9) and look to our Heavenly Father and our Savior for everything; with all that, our adversities will make us stronger.

When Elder David A. Bednar was growing up, his father was not a member of the Church. His dad was a good man. He went to church with his family and helped them with their activities and goals.
Even though his family did not have family home evening or family prayer together, Elder Bednar prayed and read scriptures with his mother.
Elder Bednar loved his dad and consistently tried to be a good boy and a good example to him. Many years later, his father decided to become a member of the Church, and Elder Bednar was able to baptize him!

My name is Ginger Lyn and I’ve always loved Christmas, but last year was the best one we’ve ever had.
It all started on our Thanksgiving Day the last Thursday in November, as our family knelt in prayer to give thanks for our blessings. We were all so happy that we talked about some of the things we could do to help others have that same happy feeling.
Together we came up with many ideas, but the best one of all was our plan for Christmas Day. What we like most is our large family, and the happiness the gospel brings to us. We decided to share both these blessings as our gift to others.
The Salt Lake Temple is only a short drive from our home, and going there was part of our plan. We decided that on Christmas Day, after opening our gifts and eating breakfast, we would clean up the house, fix a big dinner, and then go to the temple grounds and find someone to spend Christmas with us. Before going down to the Visitors Center on Temple Square to find our unknown guests, we would set the table with candles and our best silver and crystal, lay a fire in the fireplace all ready to light, and turn on the Christmas tree lights.
We pasted a picture of our family inside the cover of some copies of the Book of Mormon, wrote a message under each picture, and signed our names. These books were to be given to our dinner guests as we sat around the fire and talked in the evening.
We were excited about our plan, and we knew the Lord would help us. In all our family prayers from Thanksgiving until Christmas, we asked Him to prepare for us someone in need of our love who would be ready to hear the gospel.
Christmas Day finally came and we were all excited. It took us a lot longer to cook the dinner and clean the house than we thought it would. Because of this we arrived at the Visitors Center later than we had planned. We were afraid everyone would have eaten by then and we wouldn’t find anyone to share Christmas dinner with us.
We talked with a number of people and invited several of them to our home. Some said they had already eaten and others looked a little puzzled and said, “No, thank you.” But we just kept asking because we knew that our Heavenly Father had prepared somebody for us. And sure enough, He had!
We found a father and mother from Michigan and their seventeen-year-old son. They were surprised at our invitation, but said they were very hungry and were just going to look in the phone book to find a place to eat. The father and mother had been to the Visitors Center before on another vacation, and on this visit they wanted their son to learn a little bit about the Latter-day Saint people. The father said, “There isn’t a better way for us to learn about your church and lifestyle than to go right into one of your homes. We’d be delighted to come!”
We also invited two young women who were on vacation from Australia to our home. They seemed excited too. They said they hadn’t eaten dinner and would enjoy being with a family at Christmastime.
We had a wonderful time on that Christmas night, eating and talking and answering questions about the Church. Before we said good-bye to our guests they thanked us over and over again. The Michigan family said they would always remember their Christmas dinner with us as a highlight of their trip, and before they left they took a picture of us around the Christmas tree.
The girls from Australia were a little teary as we gave them each a copy of the Book of Mormon with our picture inside the cover.
After the visitors had left, our family gathered in the kitchen to do the dishes. We agreed that the real spirit of Christmas had touched each one of us and that it had been the best Christmas ever. We learned, too, that we don’t have to wait for Christmas to have a Christ-like feeling—all we have to do is share the gospel with others and it can be Christmas every day of the year!

On 11 February 2023, Cyclone Gabrielle raced through New Zealand’s Hawke’s Bay, and left in its wake destruction and suffering. The Nuhaka Primary School in the small Hawke’s Bay community of the same name suffered extensive damage and was finally declared uninhabitable.
But through a unique collaboration between The Church and the Ministry of Education, the school obtained a wonderful solution to this and moved into the Nuhaka meetinghouse to hold classes.
Nine months later, the school continued to thrive in the church meetinghouse-turned-school during the week and students have settled in, enjoying the benefits of meeting in a building that has been dedicated to the Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Principal Raelene McFarlane said the use of the Church’s meetinghouse has been an answer to many prayers in the small community. Nine months after the school moved into the building, the results couldn’t have been better.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity of traveling with the President of the Church to attend a series of area conferences. I will never forget the contrast between two conferences that were held just a few days apart.
The first area conference was held in a large arena, and as we sat on the stand, we noticed continuous movement by the people. We saw individuals throughout the arena leaning over and whispering to family members and friends seated next to them. Giving the members the benefit of the doubt, we thought that maybe the large building helped cause the lack of reverence.
A few days later, we were in another country attending another area conference in an arena much like the first. When we entered the building, however, an immediate hush came over the congregation. As we sat through the two-hour general session, there was very little movement among the people. Everyone listened intently. Great attention and respect were shown all the speakers, and when the prophet spoke, you could hear a pin drop.
After the meeting was over, I asked the priesthood leaders about what they had done to prepare the people for the conference. They told me their preparation had been simple. They had asked priesthood holders to explain to the members of their families, and also the families they home taught, that at an area conference they would have the privilege of hearing the words of the prophet and the apostles. The priesthood leaders explained that the reverence their people felt for God and His servants was the basis for their reverent behavior at the conference.

Daniel burrowed deeper into his jacket and wished he were somewhere else—anywhere else. He hated parent-teacher conferences. For some children they were a quick pat on the back, but for Daniel they were a time of dread. They were where Mom learned all about his shortcomings as a student. They were where he heard the sadness in her voice and saw the disappointment in her eyes.
“Now about English.” Mr. Harding’s long finger tapped a fat C- on the grade sheet, then ran slowly down a row of numbers. “These are the scores that added up to Daniel’s grade.”
Daniel cringed and stared at the dark grain of the tabletop.
Mom studied the numbers. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “at least you don’t have any zeros this time.”
Mr. Harding pointed out several low quiz scores. “The problem here is that Daniel didn’t read the assignment. On every quiz I ask the students if they’ve read the story. If they haven’t, I take away half their points even if they get all the answers right.” He glanced at Daniel. “Reading the assignment is just as important as knowing the answers.”
The talk went on, but Daniel stopped listening. Would the conference never end?
At last they were on their way home. Mom didn’t say anything for a long time. Daniel knew that she was disappointed, perhaps even angry. When they stopped at a light, Mom turned to him. “I’m proud of you,” she said.
Daniel stared at her, too astonished to speak. Had he heard right?
“I’m not saying I’m proud of your grade,” she explained. “We both know you should have read those stories.”
He looked away and nodded.
“But you showed me something that’s more important than a grade.”
“I did?” He felt completely confused.
The light turned green, and they drove on. “You could easily have marked that you read the stories,” Mom continued. “Your grade would have been higher, and no one would have known for sure whether you answered truthfully.”
Daniel shifted in his seat to get a better look at Mom. She was smiling, and for once there was no disappointment in her eyes. “You told the truth knowing that it would hurt your score and that I might be really angry about your grade. Sweetie, that’s called integrity.”
Integrity. Daniel had heard the word, but wasn’t sure he knew what it meant. Even so, he felt a warm spot growing inside as they drove on home.
When they pulled into their driveway, Mom turned off the engine and took Daniel’s hands in hers. “Integrity is doing the right thing at the right time even when it’s hard,” she said. “You got a C- in English today, and that has to change. But you earned an A in integrity. I hope that never changes.”