Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago, a humble and faithful patriarch, Brother Percy K. Fetzer, was called to give patriarchal blessings to Church members living behind the Iron Curtain.

Brother Fetzer went into the land of Poland in those dark days. The borders were sealed, and no citizens were permitted to leave. Brother Fetzer met with German Saints who had been trapped there when the borders were redefined following World War II and the land where they were living became part of Poland.

Our leader among all of those German Saints was Brother Eric P. Konietz, who lived there with his wife and children. Brother Fetzer gave Brother and Sister Konietz and the older children patriarchal blessings.

When Brother Fetzer returned to the United States, he called and asked if he could come visit with me. As he sat in my office, he began to weep. He said, “Brother Monson, as I laid my hands upon the heads of the members of the Konietz family, I made promises which cannot be fulfilled. I promised Brother and Sister Konietz that they would be able to return to their native Germany, that they would not be held captive by the arbitrary decisions of conquering countries and that they would be sealed together as a family in the house of the Lord. I promised their son that he would fill a mission, and I promised their daughter that she would be married in the holy temple of God. You and I know that because of the closed borders, they will not be able to receive the fulfillment of those blessings. What have I done?”

I said, “Brother Fetzer, I know you well enough to know that you have done just what our Heavenly Father wanted you to do.” The two of us knelt down beside my desk and poured out our hearts to our Heavenly Father, indicating that promises had been given to a devoted family pertaining to the temple of God and other blessings now denied to them. Only He could bring forth the miracle we needed.

The miracle occurred. A pact was signed between the leaders of the Polish government and the leaders of the Federal Republic of Germany, permitting German nationals who had been trapped in that area to move to West Germany. Brother and Sister Konietz and their children moved to West Germany, and Brother Konietz became the bishop of the ward in which they resided.

The entire Konietz family went to the holy temple in Switzerland. And who was the temple president who greeted them in a white suit with open arms? None other than Percy Fetzer—the patriarch who gave them the promise. Now, in his capacity as president of the Bern Switzerland Temple, he welcomed them to the house of the Lord, to the fulfillment of that promise, and sealed the husband and wife together and the children to their parents.

The young daughter eventually married in the house of the Lord. The young son received his call and fulfilled a full-time mission.

During the administration of President George Albert Smith, there lived in our ward an impoverished widow who cared for her three daughters, each of whom was an invalid. They were large in size and almost totally helpless. To this dear woman fell the task of bathing, feeding, dressing, and caring for her girls. Means were limited. Outside help was nonexistent. Then came the blow that the house she rented was to be sold. What was she to do? Where would she go? The bishop went to the Church Office Building to inquire if there were some way the house could be purchased. It was so small, the price so reasonable. The request was considered, then denied. A heartsick bishop was leaving the front door of the building when he met President George Albert Smith. After the exchange of greetings, President Smith inquired, “What brings you to the headquarters building?” He listened carefully as the bishop explained, but said nothing. He then excused himself for a few minutes. He returned wearing a smile and directed, “Go upstairs to the fourth floor. A check is waiting there for you. Buy the house.”

“But the request was denied.”

Again President Smith smiled and said, “It has just been reconsidered and approved.” The home was purchased. That dear widow lived there and cared for her daughters until each of them had passed away. Then she, too, went home to God and to her heavenly reward.

“Please tell me a story,” Jeff said to his granny.
Granny began, “Once upon a time there was a boy.”
“He was a little boy,” Jeff said.
Granny began again. “Once upon a time there was a bad little boy.”
“No, Granny. That isn’t the way the story goes,” Jeff said. “He was a good little boy.”
Once more Granny started the story. “Once upon a time there was a good little boy.”
Jeff nodded his head up and down. “That’s the right story.”
“This good little boy was going to town.”
Jeff shook his head. “No, no, Granny. Don’t you remember? That very good little boy was going to his granny’s house.”
Granny smiled at Jeff. “That’s the same old story. Wouldn’t you like to hear a new one?”
“I like the old story,” Jeff insisted.
So Granny told it. “Once upon a time there was a very good little boy. His daddy took him in the car to see his granny. When they got to Granny’s house. Daddy stopped the car in the driveway. He smoothed Jeff’s hair and tucked Jeff’s shirttail in. ‘Be a good boy,’ Daddy said.
“Jeff climbed out of the car and waved good-bye to Daddy. Then Jeff rang Granny’s doorbell.
“When Granny opened the door, she pretended that she didn’t know him. ‘Good morning,’ Granny said. ‘Are you selling something? I don’t think I need anything today.’
“Jeff began to giggle. ‘Don’t you need a good little boy?’
“Granny made her face look surprised. ‘How did you know? That’s the only thing that I need.’
“Jeff laughed out loud. ‘I’m just what you need!’ he said.”
Granny stopped telling the story and hugged Jeff. “It’s the same old story,” she said.
“That’s why I like it,” Jeff told her. “Could we have a glass of milk and a cookie for that very good little boy? That comes next in that same old story.”

The second area of your life that perhaps needs to be addressed is how you are spending your time. A young coed at this university had determined that she was going to succeed in one of the professions. That was first and foremost. A young man was dating her, wanting the relationship to deepen and perhaps lead to the temple. But she was involved in succeeding in her chosen profession to the injury, perhaps, of other possibilities.

Her boyfriend asked if I would talk with her while visiting BYU one day, so we did walk and talk together. I asked her a simple question, “What are your priorities?” “To be married eternally, to raise a family, to live the commandments. I would like to succeed in my profession. I enjoy going to school. I want good grades.”

Even though the last three were vital, none of them were number one. I then asked her, “Is that the way you are living?” She then knew that her boyfriend had asked me talk with her. She said she thought she was beginning to understand.

While living in Salt Lake City, on assignment from the Church, Kay and Terence M. Vinson (now an emeritus General Authority Seventy) learned to play pickleball with neighbors and friends. They enjoyed the fellowship with others and the neighborliness that pickleball offered. So when their assignment ended and Elder Vinson was released, they took their interest, pickleball paddles, and wiffle balls back home to Australia.
“It’s such a healthy and engaging social and physical activity,” Sister Vinson says. “But we don’t have many pickleball courts in Sydney, so we’ve adapted the rules and equipment to fit what’s available.”

In one of my visits in 1997 to Kiribati as Mission President of the Fiji Suva Mission, I was waiting at the Otiinta Hotel, a local five star hotel with no running water or shower. The zone leader and his two companions were to pick me up for our zone conference.

A Chinese man approached me with a glass of beer in one hand, and a can of Foster Beer in the other hand. I could see by the way he walked that he was somehow drunk! You know, when a man is drunk, he doesn't fear anyone; so, courageously, he said to me, looking at my name tag, "President Tefan, I am Kwok Ming Mak. I want you to come and have dinner at home with your missionaries." He was breathing alcohol, and I said to myself, "Send him away; he is drunk! He invited you because you are Chinese and because he is drunk, but, tomorrow when he recovers his senses, he would have forgotten his invitation." But the spiritual impression was, "accept the invitation."

Just at that time the elders arrived and I asked them, "Elders, how would you like to have dinner with Mr. Mak?" Brothers and sisters, did you ever see fulltime missionaries refuse a dinner appointment? Especially those serving in a rough area when there are no McDonalds or KFC, Taco or Manapua? You know, the typical daily menu for our great, devoted and always hungry missionaries in the islands is: Monday, fish and rice; Tuesday, rice and fish; Wednesday, fish and rice.

To make the story short, we ended up the following evening at Mr. Mak's humble home. He served us, generously, a Chinese course with seven dishes: egg foo yung, lemon chicken, beef noodle chow mein, fish, and taro to name a few. The missionaries were in heaven! After the dinner, I said to our host, "Mr. Mak, we want to thank you for this wonderful meal, and we have a gift that we would like to offer you and your family. It's the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That's why we are here with the missionaries in Kiribati. Would you accept that the missionaries return and share that gift with you?" He quickly responded. "Not for me, but the missionaries will be most welcome to teach my son Johnson and my wife."

Missionaries taught Johnson who joined the Church a few months later. Johnson was later ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood and after a few months as an Elder and served as an executive secretary to Bishop Iotua Tune, the CES director and principal of the Moroni High School. Johnson later received a four year David O. McKay scholarship for BYU-Hawaii. In June 1999 at my last visit to Kiribati, I met Johnson who had just returned from BYU-Hawaii and told me that he has received his mission call to the Hong Kong Mission.

After his mission, Johnson returned to BYU-Hawaii and married his Taiwanese sweetheart in the Laie Temple, graduated, has two children and works now at BYU-Hawaii. I think he is here today at this devotional. His mother Kaatia joined the church and served as counselor in the ward relief society presidency; a sweet lady. She passed away a few years ago.

Mr. Mak started attending church, received the missionary discussions, and has watched some Chinese church videos we ordered from Hong Kong. He stopped drinking and smoking for a while but never joined the Church. I saw him for the last time in December 2008 in Kiribati during my last ecclesiastical assignment on my way to the Bonriki airport. I was sad to learn that he passed away in July of this year.

When I reflected now upon that particular event, I wondered what would have happened had I chased Mr. Mak away because he was drunk and had never opened my mouth to share my testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ with him on that special day in Kiribati. Brothers and Sisters, as we pursue our journey while keeping our eyes on eternity, let's never miss any opportunity to testify of Jesus Christ.

Several LDS groups invited my minister friend to speak on the topic of “loving our neighbor despite religious differences,” and she experienced a great deal of acceptance from those who attended. In turn, she invited several Latter-day Saints, including me, to speak to different congregations on the same topic. After the services, I found myself surrounded by congregants wanting to talk to me, hug me, and even shed tears of mutual love and understanding. In experiences like these, I have found Elder Holland’s conclusion to be true: “When we look beyond people’s color, ethnic group, social circle, church, synagogue, mosque, creed, and statement of belief, and when we try our best to see them for who and what they are—children of the same God—something good and worthwhile happens within us, and we are thereby drawn into a closer union with that God who is the Father of us all.”14

And there is a higher interpretation of the principle of peace. The Savior is the Prince of Peace. Great interpretations have been given to that title. One of the finest that I have ever heard in my life was by President Lee. President Joseph Fielding Smith had just died. President Lee was now the brand-new prophet. His first major meeting as the prophet was in Mexico at an area conference down there. His first press conference as prophet was there, and President Lee was asked a trap question.

Now there are all kinds of trap questions. A trap question is a question to which you can’t say yes and you can’t say no. The traditional trap question is, “Have you stopped beating your wife?” You can’t say “Yes, I’ve stopped” or “No, I haven’t stopped.” Whatever you say, you’re wrong.

President Joseph F. Smith, back at the turn of the century, in Washington, D.C., was asked a trap question by reporters. That question was, “Are you a prophet of God?” If he said yes, they were going to say, “Well, prophesy something for us, tell us something important that’s going to happen. Any earthquakes coming up?” Whatever he said, they were going to ridicule him. They had it all planned. If he said “No, I’m not a prophet,” they would say, “Well, the Mormon prophet says he’s not a prophet.” They would ridicule him yes or no. His inspired answer, when they pulled that trap question on him, was, “I am so sustained by the members of the Church.” They couldn’t do anything with that, and he gained their understanding.

Now back to President Lee in Mexico City. Hostile, foreign, international, sophisticated reporters pulled a political question on him. “What is your position with regard to the Vietnam involvement—the Vietnam War?” Some of you may not remember that particular time in history. It was a hot political issue, the Hawks against the Doves—there was an element of patriotism. Our government and our leaders of the nation were involved and said, “We should be there.” But there was a growing opposition to it. It has since been reconciled to the satisfaction of some, not to the satisfaction of others. But, at that point, if President Lee said, “I’m in favor of being there,” they would headline it, “How strange, a religious leader in favor of war.” If President Lee said, “I’m against it,” they would say, “How strange, a religious leader who pretends to support his government—it is one of their articles of faith—is against his own government.”

Either way it was a difficult question. President Lee’s answer was classic. It was inspiration from the Lord. It was a higher interpretation. He said, “We, together with the entire Christian world, abhor wars.” Then he said, “The Savior, however, said that in the world there would be tribulations. He said, ‘In me ye might have peace’” (John 16:33). Then President Lee went on to say, “The Savior said, ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you’’” (John 14:27). It’s even more beautiful in Spanish: “La paz os dejo, mi paz os doy; no como el mundo la da, yo os la doy. No se turbe vuestro corazón, ni tenga miedo.” It’s more poetic in Spanish. (I just had to do that for the returned missionaries from Latin America.)

President Lee went on to say, “The Savior was not talking about the kind of peace that you can win with armies and navies and bombs and rockets. He was talking about the kind of peace a person can have in his own heart, no matter what kind of tribulations there may be in the world.” He so won the understanding and sympathy of those worldly reporters that they gave good coverage to the conference, and excellent coverage to President Lee as a religious leader. They learned from him—they learned the higher interpretation.

In the early days of the Church in Mexico, two faithful leaders who were disciples of Christ became martyrs because of their belief. The two whose lives were taken were Rafael Monroy and Vicente Morales.

During the Mexican Revolution, Rafael Monroy was the president of the small San Marcos Mexico Branch, and Vicente Morales was his first counselor. On July 17, 1915, they were apprehended by the Zapatistas. They were told they would be spared if they would give up their weapons and renounce their strange religion. Brother Monroy told his captors that he did not have any weapons and simply drew from his pocket his Bible and Book of Mormon. He said, “Gentlemen, these are the only arms I ever carry; they are the arms of truth against error.”

When no arms were found, the brethren were cruelly tortured to make them divulge where arms were hidden. But there were no arms. They were then taken under guard to the outskirts of the little town, where their captors stood them up by a large ash tree in front of a firing squad. The officer in charge offered them freedom if they would forsake their religion and join the Zapatistas, but Brother Monroy replied, “My religion is dearer to me than my life, and I cannot forsake it.”

They were then told that they were to be shot and asked if they had any request to make. Brother Rafael requested that he be permitted to pray before he was executed. There, in the presence of his executioners, he kneeled down and, in a voice that all could hear, prayed that God would bless and protect his loved ones and care for the little struggling branch that would be left without a leader. As he finished his prayer, he used the words of the Savior when He hung upon the cross and prayed for his executioners: “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” With that the firing squad shot both Brother Monroy and Brother Morales.

To become consistently charitable is a lifelong quest, but each act of love changes us and those who offer it. Let me tell you the story of a young woman I met recently. Alicia, as a teenager, had drifted far from the Church, but later she felt stirrings to return. She often visited her grandfather in a retirement home on Sundays. On one of those days she decided to attend the Latter-day Saint meetings there. She opened the door and found a Relief Society meeting, but no empty seats. As she was about to leave, a woman motioned to her and scooted over to make room for her on her chair. Alicia said: “I wondered what the woman would think of me. I was covered with body piercings, and I smelled of smoke. But she didn’t seem to mind; she simply made a place for me at her side.”

Alicia, heartened by this woman’s charity, returned to activity. She has served a mission and is now sharing that same kind of love with other women. The elderly sister who shared her chair understood that there is a place for every woman in Relief Society. Sisters, we gather for strength, but we bring with us all our weaknesses and imperfections.

Alicia told me something I will never forget. She said: “I only do one thing for myself when I go to church: I take the sacrament for me. The rest of the time I watch for others who need me, and I try to help and nurture them.”

My husband and I were missionaries serving in Tarbes, France, in the Pyrenees Mountains. It was Christmas Eve, and we decided to go down to the city at Verdun Plaza to give away copies of the Book of Mormon. The street was deserted, and we started to ask ourselves what we were going to do with so many books. Suddenly, we saw a young man who seemed to not know where to go.
We approached him and offered him a Book of Mormon. He became joyful as he listened to us talk about the gospel. He explained that he was alone that Christmas night and that he would read the Book of Mormon and not feel alone.
After he left, we looked around the street again and saw a woman walking slowly toward us in the cold night. A glimmer of happiness shone in her eyes when we presented her with a Book of Mormon. She told us that she had become a widow recently and was happy that we were concerned about her. She said she was extremely grateful to us. As she walked away, we saw her hold the book against her heart.
That night we distributed every copy of the Book of Mormon that we had brought with us. Most of the people who we gave them to were alone, distressed, and very much in need of love. We went back home that night with the impression that we had received the greatest Christmas gift because of the joy that we were able to give to others.

Attending sacrament meeting for the first time was strange for Cesar. It wasn’t anything like the meetings he was accustomed to.
“There was a man carrying the sacrament trays. He was very busy fixing the microphone and saying hello to everyone. There were so many people there that I wondered if they would all fit in the church! It seemed funny that the man fixing the microphone was the bishop.
“It was also a change to be in church for three hours; that seemed like a long time. I still remember that first Sunday School class. We talked about the birth of Jesus Christ, and I asked a lot of questions. After class, Betty’s brother, Isaac, helped me find the missionaries. I didn’t go to priesthood meeting that day; instead, I had my first discussion with the missionaries.”

Our sweet little son, Hayden, came into this world blue, not breathing, and struggling for life. No crying. No movement.
As doctors and nurses rushed around the hospital room, I knew something was terribly wrong. My husband and my father quickly gave Hayden a priesthood blessing, and Hayden was rushed off to intensive care. He was soon diagnosed with a rare heart malfunction. Within days he underwent several heart surgeries.
Through the miraculous power of priesthood blessings, fasting, and prayers, Hayden beat all odds and survived. We were overjoyed to bring our son home and begin our new lives together.

My brother is a missionary in Russia. I like to draw pictures and write letters to send him. I draw my brother and his companion wearing white shirts and ties. I draw a big circle around the two elders and write “Force Field from Heaven” to show that I know they are being protected. Even though the force fields are pretend, Heavenly Father’s power is real, and I have faith that He will take care of my brother.Marci P., age 7, with help from her mom, Utah

A true story from Finland.
Phoebe’s heart fluttered like snowflakes. Today was Christmas Eve! Grandma and Grandpa would be here soon. The Christmas tree sparkled. Phoebe tiptoed around the tree and looked at the colorful gifts beneath it. She wondered what her present would be!
Mom and Dad were busy in the kitchen making yummy food. It smelled so good! There were Finnish meatballs, casseroles, and gingerbread cookies. Mmm!
“Is it time for presents yet?” Phoebe asked.
“Not yet. We’re going to watch a video about Jesus first,” Dad said. “Christmas is when we celebrate Jesus Christ’s birthday.”
Everyone gathered to watch a video about baby Jesus. Phoebe watched quietly.
“Jesus wasn’t born in a hospital,” Phoebe said. “He was born in a stable with grass and animals!”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Jesus is God’s special gift to us. He came to show us how much God loves us.”
Phoebe felt warm and happy inside. She thought about Jesus and how much He loved her. She knew He was the most special gift of all.
Illustrations by Violet Lemay

One Sunday while I was serving as mission president in Vladivostok, Russia, a rather amazing thing happened. I had gone to my office to gather some materials when a 13-year-old young man, Vladimir, whose friends call him Vova, knocked on the door. Vova is a deacon in the Vladivostok First Branch. He asked to visit with me in my office. He was accompanied by Sister Olga Vyachyeslavna Dryagunova. This sister speaks wonderful English, and the boy had asked her if she would act as his interpreter. Vova speaks no English, and I speak only a little Russian.
Vova had been an orphan, abandoned at birth because he was born with a cleft palate. The birth defect has since been partially repaired, leaving a scar. He was adopted by a wonderful woman who has treated him as her son. The boy is always happy. He has a smile on his face and a wonderful countenance when he passes the sacrament. He wears the mantle of a deacon as well as any boy I have ever known. He regularly bears a sweet and brief testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel. He is everything that a deacon ought to be.
At our meeting Vova spoke Russian and Sister Olga interpreted. She told me that Vova had come to fill out his application to serve as a full-time missionary. I asked, without a hint of a smile, “How old is he?”
She asked and he answered, “Nearly 14.”
Retaining my composure, I said, “Does he understand that he needs to be 19 before he can serve a mission?”
She responded, “He does, but he does not want to be tardy in getting his application in.”
I assured them that there was still time before we needed to send his missionary application to Moscow and then on to Salt Lake City. Neither the branch president nor I would forget when it was time for him to fill out his forms. I walked to the wall displaying pictures of the 44 missionaries then serving in the Russia Vladivostok Mission. I told Vova I was worried that the missionary papers might be returned if it appeared that I was recommending a 13-year-old boy for a mission.
Then I explained that since he was in my office where I conducted interviews with the missionaries, I thought it appropriate to ask him the questions that will be asked of him when he is 19, just to make sure that he was currently worthy to serve a mission. I then went through all the worthiness questions as though Vova were one of my full-time missionaries but tactfully passed over the boy-girl questions, thinking them premature. Besides, I didn’t want to embarrass Sister Olga.
Vova answered all my questions with the appropriate responses and with the wisdom of a boy twice his age. Upon further reflection, I guessed that he may have even asked one of the elders what interview questions he might anticipate from the mission president. I then told Vova that he could come back every six months, and we would repeat the interview process.
He then asked with some concern what he should say to let me know he was ready for another interview six months from now. I said to him, through Sister Olga, that it was now time for him to have his first English lesson. I then said slowly, “This is what you should say to me, ‘President, I am ready for my missionary interview.’”
He repeated the important words he needed to know three times.
As I was ready to end the interview, Vova asked Sister Olga to ask me one last question. “President,” he said, “what advice do you have for me to prepare for my mission?”
I was a bit taken aback. Few of my mature elders would have the wisdom to ask such a timely question. I pondered for a moment and then told him to do three things: First, I told him to read the scriptures each day. Second, I suggested that he pray to his Heavenly Father each morning and evening. Third, I told him to practice his English.
I confess that the last suggestion was a little selfish on my part, as I was thinking how I would enjoy speaking with him in English and asking him questions about the things of his heart. I suggested he attend the free English classes taught by the missionaries, but he said his mother would not allow him to be out after dark. We agreed that he would work harder each day in his English class at school.
Later, when I saw the deacons in the hall after church, I asked Vova if he would like to repeat the phrase he needed to use to ask for his next interview. This he did in a fine manner. Then to my great surprise, I learned that each of the other deacons in the branch had also learned the magic words. Each one repeated while looking right at me, “President, I am ready for my missionary interview!”
Oh, the power of example! The joy of one willing to open his mouth and share the things he had learned with another was something I was trying to get all of my missionaries to experience! These Russian deacons were on the road to perfection.
As I sat at my desk, I wondered what could be done in advancing the missionary work in this vast land of Russia if, in five years’ time when Vova is 19 years old and ready to serve his mission, there were another 2,000 young Russian deacons preparing just like Vova. The answer, of course, is found in Alma 57. There a prophet named Helaman had 2,000 young men, and he was able to perform miracles with boys of great faith and devotion who had been taught by their mothers (see Alma 57:21).
Think how blessed the mission president will be who gets Vova as one of his stripling missionaries.

Faith in God is also a way to strengthen your family. Lindsey had just turned eight and received her copy of the Faith in God guidebook. Her parents reviewed the guidebook with her. Lindsey volunteered to give the lesson for family home evening. She chose one of the topics in her Faith in God guidebook. With the help of her family, Lindsey presented family home evening and also completed an activity.

Other families have also used Faith in God to help them with family home evening. One family chose a different article of faith to study and memorize each week. Another family let their children choose an activity from the guidebook when it was the child’s turn to give the lesson.

For a parent-child service project (see guidebook, p. 9), Michael’s family decided to make apple pies that each family member could take to someone. Michael asked if he could take his pie to a family who had been unfriendly. Although his mother was concerned, Michael persisted. Michael’s family delivered the pie. They discovered that the family was having hard times and that the unfriendliness was not directed at them. The two families became great friends because Michael wanted to live the gospel of Jesus Christ.

When you complete the requirements, you will receive the certificate at the back of the guidebook. Your Primary president and the bishop or branch president will sign it. But the greatest blessing is that you will have practiced doing the things that can help you live the gospel and be strong and courageous.

When you complete the requirements for Faith in God, you will also be better prepared to receive the Aaronic Priesthood or to become a righteous young woman. You will have established patterns for righteous living and will have had opportunities to live the gospel, serve others, and develop your talents. Best of all, you will have strengthened your testimony of Jesus Christ.

A mission had been a great desire of mine since I was a child. But since I married young, I put the dream aside while we raised our children, hoping that my husband, Ben, and I might be called later in our lives.
That lifelong hope appeared to be crushed when Ben suffered a stroke at the age of fifty-four which took away his ability to speak, write, or read and paralyzed his left side. In spite of a miraculous recovery through the power of the priesthood, he was still handicapped in many ways when our bishop called us in twelve years later to interview us for a mission. The stroke had left Ben unable to speak properly, so that he had difficulty communicating with anyone except family members. Words just did not come out right, and he had not been able to pray vocally or even ask a blessing on our meals. His left arm had been amputated; his right leg was swollen and painful much of the time; and he was likely to get a heart attack when under tension.
Furthermore, our financial income was small—about as small and inadequate as we felt. But we had no misgivings about accepting the call. Ben felt that if the Lord needed him or wanted him, that was it.
Our stake president was not too sure about submitting the application to Church headquarters. However, the Missionary Department’s advice was, “Send in the papers, and we’ll let the Brethren make the decision.” I prayed fervently that there might be a place suited to us where we could help in building up the kingdom. A few weeks later, when our call came to serve in the southeastern United States, my joy was full. I knew without a doubt that my prayers had been answered.

It was a bomb that helped convince Yvonne Fitzpatrick of Northern Ireland that Heavenly Father loved her and was looking after her—or the threat of a bomb, anyway.
Yvonne’s mother had been taking the missionary discussions, and Yvonne had been listening in. On the afternoon following her mother’s baptism, the two decided to go shopping in Crown Alley, Dublin. When they returned home that evening, they turned on the news and heard that bombs had been planted in Crown Alley, but none had gone off.
“I was convinced that someone was looking out for us that day,” Yvonne says. “Today, here I am a member of the Church and a Sunday School teacher.” Yvonne is active in the Kilkenny Branch.

We must be careful of the misuse of credit. The use of credit cards in many places has increased consumer debt to staggering proportions. I am reminded of the story of “an elderly farmer [who] wrote to a mail order house as follows: ‘Please send me one of the gasoline engines you show on page 787, and if it’s any good, I’ll send you a check.’
“In time he received the following reply: ‘Please send check. If it’s any good, we’ll send the engine.’”