Gospel Story Finder

I want to share an experience where I personally grew in understanding of the scripture I shared at the beginning – John 1:12 – “ But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.” In order to fulfill our purpose on earth and meet the challenges of life by rising to the highest in us, we will need to draw upon the powers of heaven to strengthen us, lift us, and sanctify us. In the experience I will share, I hope you can see how my dad utilized the Atonement to become more than his naturally wonderful self could be.

On November 19, 2010, my parents were traveling from Colorado to Idaho to spend Thanksgiving with my family. While driving, they were involved in a serious accident when a 17-year-old drove across the median causing a head-on collision with my parent’s car. My mother was killed and my father badly injured. The 17-year-old and my father were airlifted to the nearest hospital where we gathered as a family to support each other.

It was hard to believe that our wonderful mother of eleven children and beloved wife was gone. It was the first time we had ever faced the loss of a loved one, and in deep sorrow, we turned to the Savior for understanding. I testify that in times of need, we can be blessed with the peace that “ passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). Our mother had taught us the gospel and lived firmly in the faith that families could be together forever. We clung to that hope and her example.

As a family, we exercised faith in the power of priesthood blessings for our dad and witnessed many miracles. Each day after the accident, our father amazed the doctors by no longer having the life-threatening injuries that were apparent when he arrived at the hospital. On Sunday, a few of my brothers and sisters and I gathered in my dad’s hospital room, filled with thanks for the tender mercies we’d received in my dad’s recovery. When my father closed his eyes to rest, I left the room for a moment. As I walked down the hallway, I met a father and his teenage son dressed in white shirts and ties carrying some bread and water. Evidently, they were taking the sacrament to someone they knew in the hospital. I asked them if they would mind administering the sacrament to my father and family. They agreed, and we experienced what might be the most spiritual sacrament meeting I've ever attended.

After partaking of the sacrament, my father, in great pain because of broken ribs and other injuries, took the opportunity to bear testimony to us of the great Atonement. With tears of gratitude, he cried as he expressed his faith in the Savior and His atoning sacrifice in our behalf. Because of the Savior’s great gift, we would be able to return to our Father in Heaven’s presence and see our mother again. He encouraged us to live our lives with gratitude for the Savior and turn to Him so that we could be forgiven of our mistakes and overcome our weaknesses. At this poignant time of great sorrow and loss, my father recognized that the hope of being together again was only possible because of the Savior’s love. Experiencing the tender message of my father was a lesson I will never forget and one that I would witness my dad teach us again.

Later in the week, as my father was being released from the hospital, he made one final request. He asked if my brother and I would take him to the room of the 17-year-old boy that caused the accident. The young man was still in the intensive care unit with severe injuries. We wheeled my father into the room where the boy was lying with his parents at his bedside. My father greeted them and introduced himself. In my father’s next words, I witnessed the enabling power of the Atonement that elevates us to become true sons and daughters of God. With emotion, my father sincerely said, “I want you to know that I hold no hard feelings toward you. I don’t want you to blame yourself for what has happened. I hope that you can go on and live a good life.” My dad then testified of his faith in Christ and that because of the Savior, our spirits continue to live after death. My dad expressed his hope that one day he would see his wife again and shared his belief that our family would be together forever.

I was overcome with what I was hearing and, more importantly, what I was feeling. The feelings in the room were incredible. There was no hurt or bitterness. We all felt the redeeming love of the Savior as my father used the power of the Atonement to overcome the effects of a tragic accident. The unconditional love and forgiveness expressed by my father was only possible because he believed in the Savior. He had faith in glorious gift of the resurrection and knew that through the sealing power in temples, he would be reunited with his beloved wife and that we would be together again. Although this was an extremely difficult time, through the grace of God, my father was given power that enabled him to act as the Savior would, to be an example of the believers (1 Timothy 4:12) and testify as a son of God.

What I experienced that day was the culmination of my dad’s sermon on the Atonement that he began on Sunday after partaking of the sacrament. I heard it with my ears, saw it with my eyes, and, most importantly, felt it burn deep within my heart. On that day, I had witnessed my earthly father use the power of the Atonement to become what his Heavenly Father knew that he could be. That experience changed me, and I know that by relying on Christ, we can all become more than we currently are.

Illustration by Lee Montgomery / IllustrationX
In 1998, I began my studies at the University of the Andes. I greatly desired to earn my university degree with a good grade point average. But my criminology classes were difficult, and I had trouble adapting to university work. Also, I was busy serving as a counselor in my ward bishopric and working at night to provide for my family.
Doubt and worry frustrated my hopes that first year as I earned grades far below the class average. As the school year ended, I increased my pleas to God in prayer for help understanding each theory, principle, and procedure.
During my second year, I met a classmate I had not noticed before named Argenis. I discovered that he had not seen me either—nor would he ever see me because he was blind. One day he approached me with his cane and braille tablet and asked for help. He said I had a good voice and that he needed me to record the written study guides so he could listen to them.
He had asked others, but they refused. Those who had helped him the year before were reluctant to help him again. Between my busy schedule and poor grades, I was also reluctant to help.
Despite never officially agreeing to his request, however, I soon found myself reading and rereading the guides to record their content for Argenis. In time, we became friends, and I began to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with him. I even gave him a Book of Mormon in braille. He appreciated my help but never became interested in learning more about the Church.
As I continued reading and recording the study guides, however, my grade point average began to rise. Even my peers noticed that I was becoming a better student and growing in my understanding.
Eight years after I graduated, my friend Argenis also graduated. He hadn’t been interested in the Church, but he had helped me understand “that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17). He had also helped me see that as I serve others, God blesses me and increases my ability.

In the course of our daily activities, we have many opportunities to teach others about the gospel. For six years, I have worked as an electrician on seagoing oil drilling rigs around the world. It is shift work—one month on and one month off. Relationships are temporary; if you want to make friends, you must concentrate your efforts because you may never see your fellow crew members again.
While working for an oil company in the North Sea off the coast of Great Yarmouth, England, I made a wonderful friend—a crane operator from Norwich, England, named James MacDonald.
One day as I entered the dining area for lunch, I saw James sitting at the table with his head bowed, asking a blessing on his meal. I was surprised to see someone so unafraid of being religious in the rough environment of the drilling business. Here was a man who truly desired the friendship of our Father in Heaven and who thanked him for his goodness. From that first day, I hoped I would have the opportunity to teach this man the gospel.
As I got to know James, we spent many hours discussing points of religious doctrine and comparing them with what the Savior taught. James had an excellent knowledge of the Bible. As our four-week tour of duty drew to a close, we both felt a sense of urgency. I wanted James to gain a conviction of the truth of the things I had taught him before we parted.
But there was one complication in our success: he was not sure that the Book of Mormon was really necessary. He had read it, and he said that it was a beautiful book. But he said, “Isn’t the Bible enough? We don’t need any more Bible. We have the teachings of Jesus to his people in our Bible.”
I then explained the principle of fasting and prayer and asked James if he would fast the next day. I told him that he should pray and ponder the questions he had in his heart until he felt he had received an answer.
As James retired to his room at the end of the day, he knelt in prayer to ask his Father in Heaven whether or not the Book of Mormon was necessary. He told our Heavenly Father that when he arose from prayer, he would open the Book of Mormon to find his answer. He knew that if it were true and necessary as holy scripture, the answer would come from it.
When he arose from praying, he opened the Book of Mormon and placed his finger upon a passage. It read:
“Thou fool, that shall say: A Bible, we have got a Bible, and we need no more Bible. Have ye obtained a Bible save it were by the Jews?
“Know ye not that there are more nations than one? Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, have created all men, and that I remember those who are upon the isles of the sea; and that I rule in the heavens above and in the earth beneath; and I bring forth my word unto the children of men, yea, even upon all the nations of the earth?
“Wherefore murmur ye, because that ye shall receive more of my word? Know ye not that the testimony of two nations is a witness unto you that I am God, that I remember one nation like unto another? Wherefore, I speak the same words unto one nation like unto another. And when two nations shall run together the testimony of the two nations shall run together also.” (2 Ne. 29:6–8.)
As he read these words, he felt the thrilling warmth of the Holy Ghost. He fell again to his knees to give humble thanks to his Father in Heaven. He then made his way to my room and knocked on the door.
His countenance was bright, and his handshake was confident and strong. He told me: “I have received an answer to my prayers. I know the Book of Mormon is a true and necessary book and that you have taught me the truth.” He then said, “I want you to teach me, and I will listen and believe it all.” Far into the night we discussed gospel principles and prayed together, that we might both be enlightened, strengthened, and filled with knowledge.
The next day we left the oil rig to begin our respective journeys home. I told James that he could look up the Church in the telephone directory in order to set up a meeting with the missionaries. I didn’t know what would happen, but I trusted in the Lord that James would be able to find the elders without difficulty.
A week or so later I received a letter from a missionary in Norwich, England—a missionary who was originally from my own stake in El Paso, Texas. It read:
I am writing to thank you for giving us the opportunity of teaching and baptizing one of your friends. He is truly one of the Lord’s “valiant.” I wish you could have been there when James and I walked down into the font and I had the great honor of baptizing him into the Church of Jesus Christ. Brother MacDonald has been an answer to many people’s prayers. My companion and I had been fasting and praying forever a month to be led to someone to teach. When James called us and asked us to come and teach him, we knew that our prayers had been answered. May the Lord bless you.
Elder Barton
Within a few days, another letter came. This one, from James, read:
How grateful I am to our Heavenly Father for answering my prayers for guidance, wisdom, and knowledge! How thankful I am for the many blessings he has bestowed on me and my family! How great is the joy I have through the knowledge of the truth, for I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s true church restored to the earth in these last days. I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the Creator of all things, in whose image I am made. I know that he died as an atoning sacrifice for the sins of the world and that he could and did overcome death that all men could return to our Heavenly Father—to eternal life. I know that our Heavenly Father and our Lord Jesus Christ are two personages with flesh and bones and that they visited Joseph Smith and reestablished the Kingdom of God upon the earth. I have been and continue to be blessed with all manner of knowledge and wisdom in answer to my prayers. How great is my desire to serve the Lord faithfully to the glory of the Father and the Son.
With love in Christ,James P. MacDonald
These letters brought me great joy. I had obeyed the Lord’s commandments to every member: “Be a missionary,” and “Feed my sheep.” And through that obedience, I had not only gained a great friend, but I had also shared the joy of the gospel with him. As the Lord has said, “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:15.) I have tasted of that joy. It is great! And I hope to continue to bring souls unto him.

Youth all over the world are drawn to temples. In Lima, Peru, I met a father and three of his daughters outside the entrance of the temple. I saw the light in their faces. Two of the daughters were severely disabled and sitting in wheelchairs. The third daughter, while attending to her sisters’ needs, explained she had two more sisters at home. They too were in wheelchairs. They were unable to travel the 14 hours to the temple. The temple meant so much to this father and his daughters that four of them had come to the temple that day—two of them simply to observe the one who could be baptized for the dead and perform that sacred ordinance. Like Nephi, they “[delighted] in the covenants of the Lord.”

As part of their ministering, Elder Tune, President Kendall and the missionaries brought a much-needed laptop and monitor to donate to Chevalier Catholic High School on Abemama, where over 500 students from other small islands board.
“It was a humbling experience to see their computer lab. We walked into the building with the ‘computer lab’ sign over the door and there were no computers there. So, when we came with a laptop and a screen, the principal and the students were so excited! Now they have a computer in their lab,” Elder Tune said.

Age 17. From Saskatchewan, Canada. Loves singing, taekwondo, boxing, and playing the ukulele, guitar, and piano.
My mom has been taking my siblings and me to sing and dance at senior homes since I was six years old. It’s kind of our way to share the gospel. Recently we sang “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” and a lady in the back started crying. That’s one of my favorite songs to sing.
Another time, I got a feeling that we should sing “You Are My Sunshine.” We sang it, and the entire crowd started singing with us. A few of them cried. It was kind of a life-changing experience for me. I was so glad I listened to the prompting to sing that song.
Besides singing at senior homes, I have also done some service projects in my town, such as taking food to the homeless. I also volunteer for two organizations as a mentor for kids who want to plan their own service projects.
I think overall I’ve learned that a lot of people in the world are struggling. We don’t always see that, but simple acts of service, like singing a few songs or doing a few dances, can make people smile.
I think we should all be involved in service—in our community or even our own families. Service brings happiness to the people you’re helping and to you. When you serve others, you’re serving God and you’re helping His children, who He loves very much. (See Mosiah 2:17.)
“Service brings happiness to the people you’re helping and to you.”

“Hi, my name is Robbie. I’m a senior in high school. Last night I had the inspiration that I need to write in a journal, so that’s what I’ll do. I kinda have already, but I’m hit-and-miss on random pieces of paper.”
This was the first official entry in Robbie S.’s journal. “It just kind of started like that,” Robbie says, “and then it started to transform, and I started to figure out why I needed to keep a journal.”
Robbie explains that he used to think keeping a journal was just for posterity, but then as he read in the scriptures each day and actually wrote down the impressions and ideas that came to him as he read, an important discovery came to him: “When I started to read my scriptures and write in my journal at the same time, I figured out that’s one way you receive revelation.”
Since ninth grade, Robbie had been consistently reading from the scriptures, but it was after turning to the “Pray and Study the Scriptures” section in Fulfilling My Duty to God: For Aaronic Priesthood Holders that he decided to transform his scripture reading into scripture study. He set a goal to read from the Book of Mormon every day and write in a journal about what he had read and about his day. Robbie liked how he could set his own goals in Duty to God. He says it was more personal and he felt like he was doing more than just checking off boxes to earn an award. “I really like that Duty to God is something you do your whole life,” he adds.
“As I studied the scriptures and wrote things in my journal afterward, I would look down at what I had written and say, ‘That is not me who wrote that.’ It was personal inspiration given directly to me from God. I have received answers to prayers and counsel for my life on things that I need to do better. I had no idea revelation worked that way.”

Lacey was busy making things for her miniature dollhouse. She’d already made button plates, a yogurt-lid table, and a popcorn bowl out of a bottle cap and Styrofoam. She was just starting on the paper-clip hangers when her little brother, Zach, burst through the door with a bath towel around his neck like a cape.
“Zach!” Lacey cried as he bumped into her desk, sending the button plates flying.
“I’m not Zach. I’m Awesome Boy!” Zach shouted. He stomped around her room and knocked into the walls, pretending to fly. “And you’re a giant mutant monster that’s attacking the city!”
“I am not a mutant monster!” Lacey shouted back. As she looked at the buttons scattered all over the floor, she felt a hot, angry feeling rising in her stomach. She felt like yelling.
Instead she stomped out of the room. “Mom!” she called. “Zach’s bugging me again!”
Mom was on the phone in the kitchen and held up her hand. “One minute,” she mouthed. Mom walked into the other room to finish her phone call.
Lacey sighed and flopped into a kitchen chair. Why is Zach so annoying? Lacey fumed. She was ten, and Zach was only seven. He thought it was funny to see her mad. Worse, it seemed like Zach looked for ways to bother her. He grabbed her dolls, copied everything she said in a silly voice, and searched through her drawers. Each thing made her madder and madder. She didn’t like feeling that way.
Lacey looked down at the paper-clip hanger she was still holding. Kylee, Lacey’s older sister, had showed her how to make miniature things. Kylee was away at college now, and Lacey missed her. Why couldn’t Kylee still be around instead of Zach?
Lacey looked down at her arm where the mosquito bite had been, and suddenly she understood something. She could control her own actions. She couldn’t stop Zach from doing what he wanted, but she could choose not to be bothered by it anymore! And Heavenly Father could help her.
Heavenly Father, she prayed silently, please help me not to get mad when Zach teases me. Please help me to just love him.
As she prayed, she felt the hot anger in her stomach start to go away. A warm feeling filled its place.
“Never mind,” she mouthed to Mom as she walked back to find Zach. Maybe her miniature dollhouse would make the perfect city to defend from a giant mutant monster. And maybe Awesome Boy could use a superhero friend—Awesome Girl!

“How can it be six o’clock?” I thought my head had just hit the pillow, but my alarm clock was already screaming at me to get out of bed. The darkness and cold air made it even harder to peel back the blankets. After a few more seconds of enduring the screeching of my alarm clock, I finally got up.
My goal was to wake up at six a.m. and read my scriptures before I started a busy day. I flipped on my lamp and opened my scriptures.
After a good half hour of scripture study and a prayer, I showered and dressed for my eight o’clock class. I couldn’t be late. My first big humanities paper was due at eight. One second late and the paper wouldn’t be accepted. A zero on this assignment would ruin any chance of earning an A in the class. I had put a lot of effort into writing this paper, and I finished a couple of days before it was due. I left myself plenty of time to walk to campus to turn in my polished paper.
As I walked down the dorm hall stairwell, I heard a voice say, “Check to make sure you have your paper.” Surprised, I immediately opened my backpack and discovered that I had grabbed the wrong folder. I didn’t have my paper with me!
As I rushed back to my room, I knew it had been the influence of the Spirit that told me I didn’t have my paper. A sense of relief washed over me when I put the paper in my backpack and started off to class again.
On my walk to campus I reflected on what had happened. The impression I had received was intense. I did not doubt the voice, and I immediately acted upon the prompting. As a result I was blessed with the chance to fix the situation quickly.
This experience left me asking some questions. Why was the feeling so intense? Why did I not doubt it? Why was I given the opportunity to go back and get my paper? Why did I have the prompting at all? In the great scheme of things, did it really matter if I got an A in this class?
When I stepped into the classroom, the answer became clear. Yes, it mattered; it mattered to me. As I put my paper on the teacher’s desk, I realized Heavenly Father knew the desires of my heart. Through my early-morning scripture study and prayer, I had invited the Spirit to be with me. Even though my situation wasn’t a matter of life or death, I was receptive to the influence of the Spirit and was given the desire of my heart.

While I was serving as a mission president in Toronto, Canada, one of my assistants approached me and said, “President, how can I be a better missionary?” My first response was, “You are doing great.” And in truth, he was. But he persisted in his question, so I thought for a moment and then offered a suggestion. With a smile, he responded positively.
I shared this simple experience with our other missionaries. Soon other elders and sisters came to their interviews and asked, “President, how can I be a better missionary?” That simple question from one missionary caused a spirit of improvement throughout our entire mission.

In 1829, when Joseph was finishing the translation of the Book of Mormon, Hyrum was anxious to begin spreading the gospel and building the Church. He asked Joseph to inquire of the Lord what he should do. In section 11 of the Doctrine and Covenants we read the Lord’s response: “Seek not to declare my word, but first seek to obtain my word. … Study my word which hath gone forth … , and also study my word … which is now translating.”
Hyrum’s life is a witness to his obedience to this instruction. To the very last day of his life, he devoted himself to obtaining the word through study of the scriptures. In Carthage Jail, he read and commented on extracts from the Book of Mormon. The scriptures were obviously part of Hyrum’s being, and he turned to them during times when he needed comfort and strength the most.

When I was eleven, I received a special blessing from my uncle, a patriarch, whom I had never met. In the blessing, I was promised the very things I’d hoped for but had kept hidden in my heart—that I would have the home and family I had always dreamed about. The promises in that blessing have since been fulfilled. I have an absolute testimony of priesthood blessings, and I know that those who are worthy to give blessings are inspired by God.

When I was 11, I helped my ward build a new Church building. The members helped build them in those days—pounding nails, painting walls, and doing all sorts of things.
When I heard that President David O. McKay (1873–1970) would dedicate the building, I really wanted to be there. My parents said that I could go. I went early and sat on the front row.
I remember seeing President McKay up close. I saw the way he stood, how he talked to people, how he treated people. He had bright blue eyes and white hair. He looked like a prophet. When I heard him speak and say the dedicatory prayer, I knew in my heart that this was God’s prophet.
I had a powerful spiritual impression from Heavenly Father: “This is My prophet.” Heavenly Father was telling me through the Holy Ghost that President McKay was His prophet.
Once I knew that President McKay was God’s prophet, I knew that the Church was true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I knew that the Book of Mormon and the Restoration of the gospel were true. I also knew that all the prophets, from Joseph Smith to David O. McKay, were God’s prophets too.
Now every time a new prophet is called, I’ve had that same confirmation come: “This is My prophet.” It all started when I was a boy.

Las Vegas, Nevada, is a city often known for its less-than-wholesome environment. But there are youth there who know how to have a fun time without compromising their standards. That’s why they love having a great dance to go to. A “Mormon prom” was organized in their area three years ago and has continued to grow—with youth from 10 stakes participating in 2012.
The stakes also offer several pre-dance activities, including a meet-and-greet, a dating boot camp that teaches proper dating etiquette, a dress swap where young women can borrow a dress for the dance, and dance instruction.
On the night of the dance, families in the participating stakes host three or more couples for dinner. Then the youth go to the formal dance, where they have a good time dancing and socializing. About 800 LDS youth and 70 of their nonmember friends attended the most recent event.
The youth who attended had positive reactions. “It was magical. When I walked in, it took my breath away,” says Ashlyn E. “I will never forget it.”
Bekah O. says, “I didn’t want to go at first, but I’ve never had so much fun in my whole life. I can’t wait until next year!”

Elizabeth woke up early and lay in bed for a few minutes thinking about Gerald. Today was their last day together. Tomorrow morning his aunt and uncle would arrive from Connecticut to take him home to live with them. Elizabeth had no brothers or sisters, but for the past two weeks Gerald had been like a big brother and she didn’t want that to end. She watched the sun’s rays slanting across her bed and thought about the first night at the dinner table when Gerald had been so silent and shy, his almost white hair covering half his eyes. Neither of them had known what to say. Later when she had shown him around the farm, he was very quiet, looking a long time at everything but not saying much.
In the days that followed, he began to talk more as they rode horses through the sagebrush or gathered alfalfa for the rabbits. He never laughed, and Elizabeth thought he had the tiniest smile in all the world. Even though he was two years older than Elizabeth, he never acted bossy or like a know-it-all, the way the bigger boys at school did. He had told her about his parents’ deaths in a plane crash and about his aunt and uncle, whom he’d seen only a few times on holidays. Now they would be his new parents.
Elizabeth dressed slowly, wishing this last day would never end. When her father had first told her that a boy was going to stay with them for two weeks until his aunt and uncle could pick him up, she wasn’t sure she’d like that—a strange boy she’d never even seen before. But now she wished he could stay forever.
When Elizabeth went down to breakfast, she found that Gerald had already eaten and gone outside. She gulped her eggs quickly and ran out to find him. She searched around the chicken coops and looked inside the barn. Finally she saw him stooped down by a woodpile, peering between the boards. Elizabeth approached him quietly. “What are you doing?”
Gerald did not turn around. “There’s a baby rabbit in here,” he said in his quiet, pleasant voice. She stooped down beside him.
“Where?” she said softly. “I don’t see it.”
Gerald pointed between two boards, and Elizabeth saw the snowy white fur of the kit. Very slowly and gently, Gerald put his hand between the boards and then quickly grabbed the rabbit and pulled it out. It was very small and fluffy. He held it in one hand and stroked its ears with his finger. The kit blinked its pink eyes nervously, but did not seem too frightened.
“Last spring we had a terrific windstorm that blew over our rabbit hutches,” Elizabeth said. “Lots of rabbits got out and we never caught them all; this must be from one of them.”
“It’s as small and round as the white doorknob on our bathroom door,” Gerald said. “I’m going to call it Knob.” He stood up and tucked the rabbit into his shirt pocket.
Elizabeth followed him as he walked toward the canal, where some big white ducks were swimming on the still water. “Gerald,” she said as she caught up with him, “I think maybe you should leave that kit in the woodpile. Its mother is probably still nearby.”
Gerald looked at her, and the morning sun glistened on his hair. His eyes were very blue. “No,” he said, “this rabbit is an orphan like me. Your rabbits are all in pens.” He stared at the ducks, his mouth firm.
“Didn’t you hear what I said about the windstorm?”
“Yes, I heard, but Knob is an orphan.” He patted his pocket and smiled his tiny smile.
Elizabeth did not know what else to say. “Come on,” she said finally, “let’s go look at the new calf.”
They leaned their elbows on the rough boards of the calf pen and watched the wobbly black and white calf. From time to time Gerald took Knob from his pocket and stroked its little ears. Elizabeth could see how much he was starting to love the rabbit. She remembered the soft cocker puppy her father had brought her for her birthday, and she knew how Gerald felt. But she was worried about the baby rabbit, afraid that it needed its mother.
After lunch, she and Gerald sat on the sloping grass behind the house and ate cookies. “Gerald, that rabbit is probably hungry.”
He looked at her quickly, surprised. “That’s right!” he said, and broke a tiny crumb off his cookie and tried to poke it into the animal’s mouth. But it would not take it.
“It needs milk from a mother rabbit,” Elizabeth said.
“Do you think one of your mother rabbits would feed him?” Gerald asked.
“One of them has babies about that size. We could try.”
They ran down the dirt lane to the barn where the rabbit pens stood against the north side, out of the sun. Elizabeth opened the door to a pen containing a wooden nesting box that was open on one side. A doe was nursing her babies inside. “Just put it with the others. Maybe she won’t notice.”
Gerald took the kit gently from his pocket, looked into its eyes, and then placed it carefully in the box. The little rabbit sat still, blinking. Gerald pushed it up closer to the doe. The mother rabbit gave it a quick kick with her hind leg, and the kit tumbled into the corner of the box. Gerald put it up to her again, and again she kicked it away.
“It’s no use,” Elizabeth said. “If they won’t, they won’t.”
Gerald slowly picked up the rabbit and cupped it in his hands again, gazing fondly at it. He turned to Elizabeth, his eyes sad and helpless. “What will I do?”
“We’d better take it back to the woodpile.”
“No!” Gerald said, quickly tucking the rabbit into his pocket.
He and Elizabeth sat on a log in the shade beside the barn, both trying to think what to do. “Why wouldn’t she take him?” Gerald asked. “He looks just like her own.”
“But it’s not her own, and that’s why. She can tell by the smell.”
Gerald looked at Elizabeth closely and thoughtfully. “When my aunt and uncle come and get me, will they feel like that? That I’m not their own?”
Elizabeth wanted very much to say something to make Gerald feel better. She leaned over and sniffed his sleeve. “You smell OK, Gerald. They won’t notice.”
Gerald smiled the smallest possible smile. “They might notice. And when I do things wrong, they might say, ‘Well he’s not our own. We don’t have to put up with that.’”
Elizabeth thought for a few minutes. “I wish you were my big brother, Gerald.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I really mean it. We could explore in the foothills and ride the horses all over and get on the school bus together. It would be a good feeling to have someone who belonged to you, who’d always be around, even if you fought sometimes.”
“Well, I wish I could stay, too, but I can’t.” Gerald stroked his shirt pocket with his finger. “It was nice of your dad to let me stay here, your mom too.”
They were both silent for a few minutes. Finally Elizabeth said, “People are different from animals. When the bunnies get big, the doe just pushes them away. And she really doesn’t care about them anymore. If Dad butchers them and puts them in the freezer, she still doesn’t care. People aren’t like that.”
“I guess not.” Gerald dug around in the dirt with a small stick.
“Folks can love someone besides their own kids, and if they do, they keep on loving them no matter what they do.”
“I hope so.” Gerald smiled a little bigger smile. Then his face lit up. “Once my mama fed a baby kitten with an eyedropper. You got one of those?”
“I think so. We could try it. Come on!”
Later, on the front lawn with a cup of warm milk and the eyedropper, Gerald took the rabbit from his pocket. Its eyelids were a little droopy. Elizabeth handed Gerald the eyedropper full of milk. He pushed it into the corner of the rabbit’s mouth and squeezed some milk in. The rabbit sputtered and coughed as the milk ran out of its mouth.
Gerald looked at her despairingly. “If Knob won’t eat, he’ll die,” he said. Neither of them said anything for some time. Gerald stroked Knob’s soft fur from its pink nose to its powder puff tail with his finger. He rubbed it gently against his cheek. Finally he looked up at Elizabeth. “Come on,” he said, “let’s take it to the woodpile.”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “OK,” she agreed happily.
At the woodpile, both of them carefully lifted off the boards and laid them aside. Peering down, Gerald saw some white fur way down on the ground. “She’s still in there,” he whispered. His face was sad but relieved. They removed a few more boards until they could see the rabbit better. Several little furry balls lay along its stomach nursing.
Gerald knelt down and took Knob from his pocket, looked at him for a minute, and then carefully put his hands through the boards and laid the little rabbit against its mother. It lay for a moment and then nosed into the mother’s fur and began to suck. Gerald half smiled at Elizabeth.
“He’ll be OK now,” she said. They carefully put the boards back and walked toward the house.
“Your aunt and uncle will be here tomorrow, I guess.”
“Yeh.” Gerald kicked a small rock through the dust. “I hope they’ll like having me.”
“If they like you as much as I do, you’ll be all right,” Elizabeth said. She smiled at Gerald, and he smiled back—a big smile this time.

The Lord not only knows who we are, He knows where we are, and He leads us to do good. One day a mother I know felt impressed to call her daughter. (This kind of thing happens to mothers all the time.) It was the middle of the day, and Mom was at work, which made the call out of the ordinary. To her surprise, her son-in-law answered the phone—he’s not usually home on a workday either. As he handed his wife the phone, he said, “It’s your mother with her usual inspiration.”

They had just been to the doctor. She came on the phone, close to tears, and said, “The ultrasound shows the cord is double-wrapped around the baby’s neck. The doctor says we have no choice but to do a C-section and soon.” Then came the real cause for the distress: “And he says I can’t lift anything heavier than the new baby for four weeks!” She needed reassurance before going into the surgery that the Lord knew her need and loved her—and that there would be help tending the three little ones at home, who were scarcely more than babies themselves. When mothers—and fathers—pray for the Lord to bless and strengthen their families, He often shows them the way.

Sister Gayle Clegg of the Primary general presidency and her husband lived for a number of years in Brazil. Recently she had a Primary assignment in Japan. As she came into the chapel on Sunday, she noticed among the Japanese Saints a Brazilian family. “They just looked Brazilian,” she said. She only had a minute to greet them and found the mother and children very enthusiastic but noticed that the father was rather quiet. “I’ll have a chance to talk with them after the meeting,” she thought as she was quickly ushered to the stand. She delivered her message in English, which was translated into Japanese, and then she felt impressed to bear her testimony in Portuguese as well. She hesitated as there were no translators for Portuguese, and 98 percent of the people would not understand what she said.

After the meeting the Brazilian father came up to her and said, “Sister, the customs are so different here, and I have been lonely. It is difficult to come to church and not understand anything. Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off just reading my scriptures at home. I told my wife, ‘I’ll give it one more chance,’ and I came today for what I thought would be the last time. When you bore your testimony in Portuguese, the Spirit touched my heart, and I knew that this was where I belonged. God knows I am here, and He will help me.” And he joined the others in putting away the chairs.

Was it a coincidence that the only Portuguese-speaking member of the Primary presidency was sent to Japan instead of to Portugal? Or was it because the Lord knew someone there needed what only she could give—and she had the courage to follow a prompting of the Spirit? One of the great blessings of having a calling in the Church is that the Lord, through His Spirit, will inspire us to help those we are called to serve.

Each of us who pays a full tithe can testify that the blessings of the Lord come to us personally and meet our individual needs. The Lord has promised that if we pay our tithing, He will open the windows of heaven and pour us out a blessing so great that we will scarcely have room enough to receive it.

Many years ago John Orth worked in a foundry in Australia, and in a terrible accident, hot molten lead splashed onto his face and body. He was administered to, and some of the vision was restored to his right eye, but he was completely blind in his left. Because he couldn’t see well, he lost his job. He tried to get employment with his wife’s family, but their business failed due to the depression. He was forced to go door-to-door seeking odd jobs and handouts to pay for food and rent.

One year he did not pay any tithing and went to talk to the branch president. The branch president understood the situation but asked John to make it a matter of prayer and fasting so that he could find a way to pay his tithing. John and his wife, Alice, fasted and prayed and determined that the only thing of value they owned was her engagement ring—a beautiful ring bought in happier times. After much anguish they decided to take the ring to a pawnbroker and learned it was worth enough to pay their tithing and some other outstanding bills. That Sunday he went in to the branch president and paid his tithing. As he left the office, he happened to meet the mission president, who noticed his damaged eyes.

Brother Orth’s son, now serving as a bishop in Adelaide, later wrote: “We believe that [the mission president] was an eye doctor, for he was commonly called President Dr. Rees. He spoke to Dad and was able to examine him and offer suggestions to help his eyesight. Dad followed his advice, … and in due course sight was restored—15 percent sight to his left eye and 95 percent sight to his right eye—and with the help of glasses he could see again.” With his vision restored, John was never unemployed again; redeemed the ring, which is now a family heirloom; and paid a full tithing for the rest of his life. The Lord knew John Orth, and He knew who could help him.

I come from a small city in eastern Colombia. It was there that I was taught about the Church and was baptized, and it was also there that the desire to go on a mission was born. I was the only member of my family to accept the gospel.
I remember going out with the missionaries almost every night to help them in the work and at the same time to gain experience in the field. When the missionaries asked me where I wanted to serve my mission, I told them, “Anywhere but Venezuela.” My response was such because this was a time of great tension between my country and Venezuela, and I had little love or appreciation for the Venezuelan people.
Time passed, and I had my interview with the mission president. One of his questions was, “Brother, will you go where the Lord calls you?”
I responded without hesitation, “Yes, President.”
He then leaned forward, looked me in the eyes, and said, “And if the Lord calls you to Venezuela?” I knew then that the president knew my thoughts. After a short time I was able to tell him that I would go where the Lord sent me, but still inside of me I felt as if I could not accept those people.
Finally the day arrived when the mailman brought the large white envelope containing my mission call. I opened it. I was called to serve in the Venezuela Mission. That night I knelt and asked the Lord not to make me go to that country. After talking to him for some time, I said that I needed his help. I got up, turned on the light, and began to leaf through the Doctrine and Covenants. I stopped in the 53rd section. There was the answer from the Lord to me:
“Behold … I have heard your prayers; and you have called upon me that it should be made known unto you, of the Lord your God, concerning your calling …
“Take upon you my ordination, even that of an elder, to preach faith and repentance and remission of sins, according to my word, and the reception of the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands;
“And also to be an agent unto this Church in the place which shall be appointed by the bishop …
“And again, I would that ye should learn that he only is saved who endureth unto the end.” (D&C 53:1, 3–4, 7.)
I closed the book and knelt once again, this time in the spirit of humility. The tears burned my cheeks, and in my prayer I asked the Lord to forgive me for telling him his will.
Now I was ready to head for Venezuela, this time in a white shirt and tie. I met many people who needed to be saved, and I had to fight for them. I learned to love them with all my heart, persons who today have gone to the temple, who are the leaders of the Church in Venezuela, and others who are missionaries themselves.
I received a great deal of love and satisfaction from the Venezuelan people, and I came to learn why I was sent to that part of the Lord’s vineyard. My greatest blessing came shortly after being released as a missionary when I saw my own mother enter into the waters of baptism. I know the joy that the Lord promises to those who bring others into his kingdom. I know that this is the work of Jesus Christ because I have felt his direction. I know that it is for us to bring the message of the restoration to the millions who are waiting. And I know that one of the best ways to do this is to serve a full-time mission wherever the Lord would have us to go.

President George Albert Smith, who was named after his grandfather, George A. Smith, had known his grandfather for only a short time because he was just five years old when this grandfather died. But bearing that same name helped greatly in determining President Smith’s wholesome life pattern. He often said, “It has meant much to me to have that sacred name to take care of.” President Smith once told of a spiritual experience he had concerning his name.
“One day, [while seriously ill], I lost consciousness of my surroundings and thought I had passed to the Other Side. I realized, or seemed to realize, that I had finished my work in mortality and had gone home. …
“I began to explore, and soon I found a trail through the woods. … I followed this trail and after I had walked for some time … I saw a man coming towards me … and … recognized him as my grandfather. … I remember how happy I was to see him coming. I had been given his name and had always been proud of it.
“When grandfather came within a few feet of me, he stopped … and … looked at me very earnestly and said: ‘I would like to know what you have done with my name.’
“Everything I had ever done passed before me as though it were a flying picture on a screen. … I smiled and looked at my grandfather and said: ‘I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.’
“He stepped forward and took me in his arms, and as he did so, I became conscious again of my earthly surroundings. My pillow was … wet … with tears of gratitude that I could answer unashamed.
“I have thought of this many times, and I want to tell you that I have been trying, more than ever since that time, to take care of that name. So I want to say to the boys and girls, … honor the names that you bear, because some day you will have the privilege and the obligation of reporting … what you have done with [your] name.” (George Albert Smith, Sharing the Gospel with Others, pp. 111–12.)

I’m serving with my husband in Estonia as the first Finnish missionary couple here. When we visit and teach the Estonian members of the Church, we must sometimes travel long distances in the bus. Often I take the Finnish Valkeus magazine with me to read. At times, it has also had a few articles in Estonian in the local pages.
I’m especially grateful for the April 1993 issue, which has many beautiful pictures of Christ. I was looking through the issue one day on the bus when a middle-aged woman sat next to me. Seeing the pictures of Christ, she asked me where she could buy a magazine like that, since local magazines are not so beautifully illustrated. I had the opportunity to tell her about the Church.
While looking at the pictures, she said, “We Estonians need magazines like this.” I then found an article in Estonian by Marina Saarikki that discussed priesthood authority and started to read it out loud to her. In the middle of the reading, my fellow passenger said, “It is true.” We rejoiced in the presence of the Holy Ghost, and I invited her to attend our meetings.
Sister Mirja SilvennoinenTallinn, Estonia

Mom pushed the grocery cart up and down the aisles of the bishops’ storehouse while Mackenzie looked for her favorite cereal. All she could find were the boring kinds, like corn flakes and oatmeal. Where was the Sir Crunch-a-Lot? She sighed and pulled a bag of granola off the shelf and put it in the cart.
Mom said the bishops’ storehouse was the Church’s store, and it helped people like them who didn’t have a lot of money. Mackenzie didn’t understand. She knew Dad lost his job, but why did that mean she had to eat boring food?
Mackenzie followed her mom to the front of the store. Mom gave a slip of paper to the woman at the counter. Mom and the woman talked for a moment, and then Mom rolled their cart out to the car.
“Mom, why did you give her that paper instead of money?” Mackenzie asked.
Mom smiled. “You know we came here because we don’t have a lot of money right now, right?”
Mackenzie nodded and started putting groceries in the car.
“Well, when people at church pay their fast offerings every month, that money helps people who are having a tough time.”
“Like us,” Mackenzie said.
“Right,” said Mom. “Some of that money buys food for people who need it. Your dad and I visited with the bishop, and he told us we can shop here for a few months until Dad gets a job. That paper was a list of the things we need.”
Mackenzie raised her eyebrows. “So other people are paying for this food? That’s really nice of them. But why don’t they have better cereals?”
Mom laughed as they finished putting the groceries in the car. “Well, they might not have some of the things you love, but it’s good food. I’m really grateful for it because it means we won’t be hungry.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Mackenzie said. But she couldn’t help thinking of a big bowl of Sir Crunch-a-Lot.
The next day at school, Mackenzie stared at the ham sandwich and apple in her lunch bag. She frowned. Most of her friends were eating pizza from the cafeteria, and it smelled delicious!Then Sarah, her friend from church, sat down next to her. Mackenzie noticed that she didn’t have any lunch.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Mackenzie asked.
“My family is fasting for my uncle,” Sarah said. “He doesn’t have a job right now, so we’re praying for him.”
Mackenzie’s jaw dropped. “But it’s not even Fast Sunday!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty hard being hungry at school,” Sarah said. “But I wanted to fast with my family.”
Mackenzie remembered how Mom said fast offerings helped pay for their groceries. She thought of all the kind people who fasted on Fast Sunday and gave money to help her family have enough to eat.
Suddenly pizza didn’t seem so important, and neither did Sir Crunch-a-Lot. She said a silent prayer to thank Heavenly Father. Then she took a big bite of her sandwich. Gratitude made everything taste better.