Gospel Story Finder

Walter Guedes de Queiroz was an energetic and active young man. He was also very serious and had a strong desire to serve the Lord. That desire encouraged him to enter the ministry and become a pastor in a Methodist Church in São Paulo, Brazil. In the 1950s, while enrolled in a Protestant school of the ministry, his study of the Bible led him to a serious conflict with the Protestant doctrines of infant baptism and priesthood authority. Those issues were of such importance to Walter that eventually he made the decision to leave the school and the ministry and begin a search for a church that taught the doctrines he considered to be biblical. His search took him to all the major religions in Brazil, but none of them could satisfy him in his search.

Fortunately three other colleagues in the school had the same concerns and had joined him in a search for the truth. These four friends would get together to read the Bible and talk. In one of these sessions they decided to use the telephone book and go through the names of the different churches listed. They came across the name of a church with which they were not very familiar: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One of the four, Hélio da Rocha Camargo, made contact with the missionaries and asked a simple question: “Does your Church have apostles and prophets? If so, we would like to talk to you.”

When Walter met with the missionaries, his request was the following: “I don’t want you to ask me any questions, because I am the one searching for answers. I am after a response so important that it is a matter of life and death to me. I want you to tell me the story of your prophet, and then I will determine if he is a true or false prophet.”

The missionaries could barely contain their excitement, realizing they had the most golden of all contacts. They asked Walter if he had at least 40 minutes for them to tell the story. At the end of a discussion on the Apostasy and Restoration, Walter was able to say with a conviction that has never left him, “Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.”

The next time he saw his friend Hélio da Rocha Camargo, he exclaimed, “I have finally found that for which I have been looking. I no longer need to search.” During the next few months three of the four—Walter, Hélio, and Saul Messias de Oliveira—joined along with their families and became stalwarts of the Church in Brazil, all serving as bishops, stake presidents, and mission presidents. Elder Camargo become the first Brazilian General Authority of the Church. Few in the history of the Church have been so well prepared to accept the gospel as those three men. (See Walter Guedes de Queiroz, Oral History, interviewed by Mark L. Grover, April 16, 1982, Pôrto Alegre, Brazil, 3–4. A published version of these conversions is found in “A Trilogy of Truthseekers,” in No More Strangers, eds. Hartman Rector and Connie Rector, vol. 2 [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1973], 103–122.)

Most of the children at Sean’s school have never heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He is one of only ten Church members attending his school from kindergarten to twelfth grade. But he and his brother and sister are good examples and take advantage of missionary opportunities whenever they arise. Their father is the ward mission leader, and the missionaries visit them often. Sean likes having the elders over for dinner, and he wants to serve a mission when he turns nineteen.
One day he told two school friends, “When I grow up, I want to be a missionary.” His friends didn’t know what that meant. He explained, “A missionary is someone who tells people about Jesus!” At age five, Sean was being a missionary!

A number of years later, after Elder Kikuchi was called to serve as a General Authority, he and his wife and son took a trip, tracing the route of the early Church members as they moved from the eastern United States and across the plains to Utah. “Since I joined the Church, I wanted to feel what the pioneers had felt in their persecution, trials, and hardships,” said Elder Kikuchi. “I had read so much about the early days of the pioneers.”
When they visited Adam-ondi-Ahman in Missouri, the missionary couples who were working there asked Elder Kikuchi to hold a fireside that night. In the meeting, after telling them of his boyhood hatred for Americans, he said, “But because I found my beautiful Savior through the work of humble missionaries who taught me about pre-earth life, I discovered that I am truly one of Heavenly Father’s sons. My perception totally changed. My values and my understanding of the meaning of life have changed because of the gospel. There is a purpose in life, and we have the light of the gospel, the spirit of the Lord, the power of God to obtain necessary ordinances, the love of God, and the great hope to live again and to meet God.
“I’m grateful, in a way, that my father didn’t survive the bombing, because if he had, I probably wouldn’t have been able to join the Church. My life would have taken a much different course. Where I was born and raised, the Church did not exist, and even now there is no chapel. I would have become a regular student in high school and college. And I may not have been humble enough to accept the gospel if I heard it.”
Elder Kikuchi then told the missionary couples that “I am so grateful, so thankful that you raised sons and daughters to serve as missionaries. Your sons came to my door. You may say, ‘My son didn’t go to Japan.’ But he came to my door because you prayed for all the missionaries, and some came and brought joy to my heart. Because you raised your sons and daughters and sent them on missions, many hearts were touched by them in Japan, in the Philippines, in Switzerland, in Germany, in Hawaii, and elsewhere. It did actually happen that a missionary from Idaho and a missionary from Salt Lake City knocked at my door. I know that God lives and that Jesus is the Christ and this Church is true.”

Tim moved closer to the glass aquarium to watch the red velvet swordtails chase each other. He had received the aquarium last week for his birthday. Each night Tim was responsible for feeding the fish and checking the filter that cleaned the tank to make sure it was working. This afternoon as he watched, all the fish swam over to the corner where he usually fed them and poked their mouths out of the water.
“You must be extra hungry today,” said Tim. “I’ll give you a little food to hold you until tonight.” The fish quickly took in the food.
That night Tim fed them again. And they ate most of that too. Whenever Tim saw them at the feeding corner, he gave them more food.
By the end of the week Tim noticed the tank had a bad odor. The water looked cloudy, and the swordtails didn’t swim around as much or as fast as they did before.
“Dad,” he called. “Come look at my fish.”
Dad put down his newspaper and looked at the aquarium with Tim. “Looks like the filter isn’t working, Tim,” said Dad. “The water isn’t getting clean.”
“No, Dad. The filter works. Look at the bubbles. I check it every night.”
“It’s bubbling all right,” replied Dad. “But something’s wrong.”
“What’s that black stuff at the bottom?” asked Tim.
His father examined the patches of black on the orange rock. Tim saw the fish in the feeding corner and got out the food.
“It’s not feeding time yet, Tim,” Dad said.
“I know. But I feed them whenever they come to their feeding corner. And they sure get hungry a lot.”
“Then I know what that black stuff is, Tim, and also what that strange odor is we’ve been smelling. You’ve been feeding the fish too often. When you give them food several times a day, they don’t clean it all up. That excess food is rotting and making your fish sick.”
Tim was sad. He had thought he was being extra nice to the fish, but he was really hurting them.
Dad continued, “Remember when you asked the other day why Heavenly Father doesn’t give us everything we pray for?”
Tim nodded his head.
“Here’s a good example,” his dad continued. “We’re a little like these fish, always asking for more. Our Heavenly Father knows what and how much of everything is good for us. At times He tells us no, or not yet, just like you’ll have to do to these fish when they keep coming up to the corner for more food than they need.”
“The man at the pet store told me how to clean out the tank,” said Tim.
“I’ll help you,” Dad said. “While you take out the rocks, I’ll get the bucket and siphon hose.”
Tim pushed up his sleeves and put his hand into the tank to take out the largest rock. “All right, you guys,” he said to the fish. “I’m sorry I made you sick. You’re not going to like the cure, but for your own good, I’m only going to feed you once a day from now on.”

Many years ago I attended a stake conference in Star Valley, Wyoming, where the stake presidency was reorganized. The stake president who was being released, E. Francis Winters, had served faithfully for the lengthy term of 23 years. Though modest by nature and circumstance, he had been a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley. On the day of the stake conference, the building was filled to overflowing. Each heart seemed to be saying a silent thank-you to this noble leader who had given so unselfishly of his life for the benefit of others.

As I stood to speak, I was prompted to do something I had not done before, nor have I done so since. I stated how long Francis Winters had presided in the stake; then I asked all whom he had blessed or confirmed as children to stand and remain standing. Then I asked all those persons whom President Winters had ordained, set apart, personally counseled, or blessed to please stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his or her feet. Tears flowed freely—tears which communicated better than could words the gratitude of tender hearts. I turned to President and Sister Winters and said, “We are witnesses today of the prompting of the Spirit. This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.” No person who was in the congregation that day will forget how he or she felt when we witnessed the language of the Spirit of the Lord.

Here, in Francis Winters, was “an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.”

I was first exposed to pornography when I was eight. I had no idea it was bad because no one had talked to me about it before. But when I was seventeen and started learning about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I realized that this habit I had indulged in for years did not align with the commandments or gospel standards. I determined to quit my habit as I further investigated the Church and then eventually became a member.
At first I thought it would be easy to quit seeking out pornography. I would go a couple days without it with no problem. But then stressors would hit, and I would slip back into my habit. This happened a lot. I felt so much shame, afraid people would think I was a dark, horrible person. So I hid it from everyone.
But I started to feel promptings to reach out for help. On my own I could only muster the willpower to go a small amount of time without pornography.
When I was finally honest with my bishop and my best friend, they were compassionate and helped me to abstain. I left to serve a mission, and with the help of my mission president, I didn’t have any problems in the mission field.
But a week after I returned home, the COVID pandemic began. Alone, anxious, and depressed, I returned to my old habit. I was struggling almost every day, but I had learned to be open about it and sought help from loved ones again.
I started attending Brigham Young University. I knew I needed to get my problem under control, but even while I tried my best, I would slip up when I was alone and stressed. Every time I tried and failed, I felt like I was back to square one. I read my scriptures, prayed constantly, and did all I could to connect with Christ, but I was losing hope. Pornography was hindering my progression in life in many ways, especially spiritually.
And then I discovered a BYU club where students who were struggling with pornography could meet and support each other. The people I connected with were so loving and supportive. Right from the beginning, they helped revive my hope for a life free from pornography.
Faith, hope, and a daily accountability group helped me begin to abstain from pornography for longer amounts of time. A week would pass without pornography, then two weeks, then a month. I was achieving previously unreachable lengths of time. It was a miracle. I learned that to make progress, I needed to have small goals instead of an all-or-nothing outlook.
I fully recognize that my journey to overcome pornography is not over. Pornography is complicated and often stems from unmet needs or other underlying issues that need to be resolved. Statistically speaking, I could slip up again, but my mindset has changed.
I am striving. I am striving every day to turn to temporal and spiritual resources and to Jesus Christ to help me become better. My flicker of hope grows each time I choose to turn away from pornography; the feeling is amazing.
I used to think I was a horrible person for having this problem, but Brother Bradley R. Wilcox, Second Counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, shared some words that give me hope: “Some mistakenly receive the message that they are not worthy to participate fully in the gospel because they are not completely free of bad habits. God’s message is that worthiness is not flawlessness. Worthiness is being honest and trying. We must be honest with God, priesthood leaders, and others who love us, and we must strive to keep God’s commandments and never give up just because we slip up.”1
Like the boy in his talk who struggled with pornography, I strive for “small, reachable goals” and “incremental growth,” instead of “all-or-nothing expectations.”2
I have come far in overcoming pornography because of the help I have received from loving Church leaders and friends. But what also helped me was holy habits. When I was struggling the most, I often felt unworthy to participate in spiritual practices—I falsely believed Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were ashamed of me. But I learned that They always lovingly invite me to turn to Them through the scriptures, prayer, and temple worship to access Their healing power, especially during my darkest moments.
I have no doubt that as I continue to strive, I will one day be able to return to my Father in Heaven knowing I did my best. And I will weep at the feet of my Savior, Jesus Christ, for making it possible. I am beyond grateful for the gift of His Atonement and for all the chances He gives me as I keep trying.

1 Agnes tried not to squirm in the narrow bunk so that she wouldn’t wake her little sister, Sarah, lying beside her. She pulled the blanket up over her ears, but even that didn’t keep out the faint tom-tom beat of drums from across the river. Father insisted that the Indians were friendly to the settlers, but Agnes was still afraid. Finally she fell asleep.
2 Agnes felt like she’d only been asleep a few minutes when little Sarah pounced on her, pulling back the blanket and saying, “Up, Aggie. It’s morning—get up!” Mama was ladling hot oatmeal into their bowls. “Your father and Tom have left already to help the new family build their cabin,” she told the two girls.
3 Agnes’s spirits rose at the mention of new neighbors, even though they would live miles away. Maybe there’ll be a girl my age, she hoped, someone to take the place of Emily, far away in Scotland.
Loud banging startled them, and before anyone could reach the cabin door, young Billy Harris burst in. “Mrs. McTavish, it’s Ma. She’s feeling bad, and the baby’s coming. Please come and help!”
4 Agnes quickly helped her mother gather up some things to take, while Billy jumped around, getting in the way. “Now, Agnes,” Mama said, “you’ll have to be in charge until Papa and Tom get back.” Agnes gulped but only said, “Don’t worry about us, Mama. We’ll be OK.”
5 As Mama and the boy set off, Agnes asked, “Now, what shall we do today?” Sarah pleaded, “Play with your shoes! Dance on the tree stump!” Agnes laughed. “Your favorite game!” Sarah clumped up the steps to the upper room and came down dangling the shoes by their laces. The shoes had become a link with the past for Agnes.
6 As Agnes put on the shoes, many wonderful memories of Scotland came back to her. At the door she began to wonder if they should leave the cabin. What if the Indians are watching? Her stomach tightened with fear. Not wanting to frighten Sarah, however, Agnes let herself be pulled outside.
7 But there was no happy spring in her step as she went through a Scottish dance routine on the tree stump. She finally stopped, panting, and took off the shoes and put them on the stump.
Sarah was coaxing for a turn just as Agnes heard a rustle in the brush. She spun, terrified, and was sure that she caught a glimpse of an Indian!
8 Grabbing Sarah’s hand, Agnes ran back to the cabin, then barricaded the door with the stout plank as her father did each night. Sarah cried, “Aggie, we forgot the shoes! I’ll go get them.” “No!” Agnes cried. Then, gaining control of herself, she softened her voice, adding, “Leave them, Love. We can get them later.”
9 The day dragged by slowly. As Agnes did small jobs in the cabin, she kept scanning the clearing through the window, looking for anything unusual. Then late in the afternoon she suddenly realized that her beautiful shoes were no longer on the stump!
Shouts from outside told Agnes that her father and brother were back, and she saw her mother, too, clambering out of the horse-drawn cart. “This is no gilded coach,” her mother joked, “but it saved me a long walk home. Papa found out that I was at the Harrises’ and picked me up. The Harrises have a fine new baby son. We’ll take some dinner over to them tomorrow.”
10 That evening Agnes told the family about seeing an Indian and bringing Sarah inside and about the shoes vanishing. Mama stroked her daughter’s hair and said, “I can see that you have the makings of a fine, strong pioneer woman!”
11 The next morning Sarah looked out the door and shouted, “Aggie! Mama! Look! There are some slippers on the stump. Come and see!” But what Sarah thought were slippers sitting on the stump were really soft leather moccasins with beaded embroidery down the front.
12 Agnes quickly looked toward the river. On the opposite bank she saw a tall, leather-shirted Indian man moving forward out of the trees. Then another figure came into view, an Indian girl waving in a friendly gesture and holding up Agnes’s shoes by their long laces.
It took a minute before Agnes understood. Then she smiled and held up the beaded moccasins and waved back.

Excited by their newfound religion, Jaanus and his friend Urmas Raavk decided they must spread the gospel. They spoke with at least 50 people on the streets and knocked on 20 doors. They tried to talk like missionaries, explaining the story of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. The missionaries later asked Jaanus, “Why did you do that? Who gave you the authority to act as a missionary?”
“We know from reading in the Bible that everybody must be a missionary,” Jaanus answered. “I already have a strong desire to serve. It is hard to wait until I get a mission call.”
The elders smiled. “In opening this new mission, we need to be very careful and work only through referrals to members’ friends,” they explained. President Steven R. Mecham of the Finland Helsinki East Mission said that this proved to be important in getting the Church accepted by the government. Proselyting needed to be handled carefully, so as not to offend. From then on, Jaanus and Urmas worked with the missionaries.

A favorite scripture that keeps David strong in the face of adversity is Doctrine and Covenants 82:10 [D&C 82:10]: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” David says, “I know that when I apply this in my life, everything else will fall into place.”

An area in which he has put the Lord first is in Sunday matches. Though football tournaments are often scheduled on Sundays, David decided at the age of 11 that he wouldn’t play on the Sabbath. His coach and manager respected him for this decision and worked around it with him. David relates how the Lord blessed him for his obedience. “In England, matches are often postponed because of bad weather. At the end of one season, all the Sunday matches that had been deferred were played midweek instead. I was able to play in all six games—and scored thirty-two goals.” This earned him the title of top scorer for the season and a reputation as “the boy who never plays on a Sunday.”

We had gone up the canyon to study, but the mountain air and warm sunshine made it too relaxing to concentrate. So I just lay there in a kind of sleepy intoxication while Sarah continued her story. I rolled over to let the sun warm my face when I noticed two young boys climbing the mountain beside us—a trek that was pretty rough going. As the boys pulled themselves up by grasping branches and roots as anchors, rocks and earth under them slid down into the water. Sometimes the roots they grabbed pulled right out of the dirt, and they would slide down the face until they found something to grab onto. The small avalanche they created continued without them into the water below.
As we watched the boys with mild interest, Sarah proceeded to tell me about her best friend in high school. At least Sarah said this girl was her “best friend.” I didn’t know how that was decided. As the story went, this girl had been spending the weekend at Sarah’s, and one night they were up late talking. She told Sarah that although Sarah was fun for the first day or so, her charm soon wore off. Sarah, who was overweight and insecure, didn’t have many friends, and she had believed what this girl had told her.
I thought about this “best friend” and what her motives could possibly have been. Maybe she was annoyed with Sarah and just wanted to be mean. Maybe she was merely entertaining herself and didn’t realize that five years later, Sarah still believed that her charm quickly wore off like Cinderella’s gown.
Sarah had finished talking, and I looked over and saw the boys had finally made it to the top of the mountain. Self-satisfied, they happily scanned the world from their new vantage point and never noticed the scars they had left on the fragile mountainside.
I couldn’t help but notice the parallel between those boys and Sarah’s “best friend.” One remark had scarred Sarah enough, that years later she still expected to be rejected after people really got to know her.
Some time later, I was dealing with a socially clumsy guy who excelled at making a nuisance of himself. Steve had been wearing on my patience already, and when he made some comment that was obviously out of bounds, I turned and snapped at him. My snide remark brought laughter from the group around us, and I felt satisfied that I had made my point.
That night, I was reading in the Book of Mormon when I came across two scriptures that had profound meaning.
“And again I say unto you, is there one among you that doth make a mock of his brother, or that heapeth upon him persecutions?
“Wo unto such an one, for he is not prepared, and the time is at hand that he must repent or he cannot be saved!” (Alma 5:30–31).
I pondered Alma’s question. I remembered my comment to Steve, and I thought back to Sarah and the mountainside. Even though Steve was hard to deal with, he didn’t know any better. His awkwardness deserved love, not a confirmation of his insecurities. I realized that no matter how annoyed I was—or even how thoughtless—I will be held directly responsible for how I treat each of Heavenly Father’s children. Christ has promised that our interactions with each other are important. He said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40).
I know now I would rather have Heavenly Father refer to the service I rendered than to the injuries I compounded.

The Teton Dam has burst! Get out for your lives!" The speaker on top of a car blared this message up and down each street on a beautiful, quiet, June morning.
Almost all the children in the Rexburg, Idaho, area are Mormons, and they knew what to do—they looked to their parents for instruction. Most families had a brief prayer.
Some people had to get into cars immediately and drive to higher ground. Others had a few minutes to get precious things like church records or baby brother’s teddy bear.
Eight days after the disaster, President Kimball and Elder Boyd K. Packer talked to the parents and children and gave them hope and encouragement.
During the day, the children could not go with their parents to clean up the messes left by the flood. The mud that was in their houses was full of germs. There were sharp pointed boards and broken glass everywhere.
The children painted a big rainbow to brighten the childcare center. Although the days were long while their parents cleaned, things seemed brighter.
Many of the older children tended the younger boys and girls. They read stories, played games, and did other activities with them.
The children had faith. They knew everything would be all right!
June 5, 1976, began early for the Ashcraft family in Wilford, Idaho. It was Wayne’s twelfth birthday, and it turned out to be an unexpectedly eventful Saturday for him and thousands of people in and around Rexburg, Idaho. By evening of that same day the Ashcrafts had lost their new three-month-old home, and their land and farm equipment were ruined when later that morning the Teton Dam broke, spreading disaster throughout the valley. But the Ashcraft family was safe.
Sister Ashcraft, Cara Lynn (4) and Greg (2) were in Salt Lake City, visiting relatives.
Meanwhile in Wilford, sprinkler pipes for irrigating had to be moved and ditches dug that day so Ronald (13), Wayne (12), Kaleen (11), Cynthia (10), and Renee (9) helped.
The girls had never moved pipe before. “I really didn’t want to help,” Kaleen admitted. “I wanted to go to a Primary activity instead. But Dad came and got us up, and by nine o’clock we’d moved all the pipes and were digging ditches.”
“Dad had told me to take a shovel and clean out a ditch, and I was just taking my time,” Wayne shyly admitted. “I figured I’d be through before Dad got back to the pickup. He had to check the water and everything first.
“Later when I was done, I met Dad and we got on the tractor and headed toward the road.
“Our neighbor, Roger Weber, was out in the field chasing his horses. He started shouting something, and Dad shut the tractor off so we could hear. Roger told us the dam was breaking.”
“We thought we had about an hour,” Ronald added, “so I took the tractor down to the other end of the field. Then we all got in the pickup and headed home.
“We were about a mile from our house when another neighbor said we couldn’t go any farther. Dad said, ‘Oh, surely I can make it home.’
“Our neighbor said, ‘You’d be foolish to try.’ But Dad wanted to try anyway.
“We went about a quarter mile and just around the corner we saw Virgil Wad’s spud pit go. Turning the pickup around, we saw Dean Dawes’ place being covered by the water. We headed next for Bischoff’s spud pit, then decided to go for higher ground.
“We started for the hill on one side of the valley, but the water began coming, so we went to the other side. We had to hurry because the road was in the valley.”
From that hill the Ashcraft family watched the water go around them and then hit their home. Stunned by what they were seeing, Wayne suggested that he and his brother and sisters go off by themselves to pray. Cynthia said, “I got in the back of the pickup, knelt down by a tire, and prayed. After that I thought, Everything’s going to be OK. The water will start to go down.”
But it didn’t.
Just then some airplanes flew over the area. One of the planes spotted the families below stranded on the hill. The pilot flew back to the airport in St. Anthony and returned in a military plane that landed in a grainfield. The Ashcrafts and others climbed aboard and were taken to St. Anthony.
The Ashcraft family lost their home and all of their earthly possessions except a little football belonging to Greg that they found downstream from their home several miles. But today they are happy they are alive and together and are thankful for all the help they have received.
The people of the Idaho flood area feel blessed. The Church through its welfare program has provided them with food, clothing, and shelter. Church members have opened up their homes and their hearts to the stricken families.
The Ashcrafts plan to return to their once fertile land, now covered by many feet of sand and gravel. There they will live in two trailer houses until they can build a new home.
This family will always remember one important lesson—to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost. When Cynthia asked her father why he insisted on taking them with him that Saturday morning, he said he had a feeling that he should take them.
And Cynthia understood!
Steven (8) and Douglas (11) Brown, and Kevin (8) and Kimball (11) Galbraith were neighbors in Sugar City, Idaho. On Saturday, June 5, 1976, they were planning to go fishing at their secret spot on the Teton River after Steven and Douglas had finished mowing their lawn.
Ordinarily the boys used a power mower but for some reason that day they used the hand mower even though it took longer. Word about the dam breaking came before they finished the lawn.
Doug said, “If we had used the power mower we’d have been at the Teton River and Dad doesn’t think that he could have gotten us out and we probably would have drowned.”
Twelve-year-old Paul Packer, who also lives in Sugar City, had planned a bike ride to the river while his parents were shopping but something interfered. “If my ride hadn’t been delayed,” he said, “I wouldn’t have gotten out of there. My two sisters would have gone with the neighbors without me.”
One month later Steven, Douglas, Kevin, Kimball, and Paul went back to see their homes. (see photographs)—
Jodi Carlson (10) and Shaun Orr (7) hurried to Jodi’s grandparents’ grocery store in downtown Rexburg to warn them of the coming flood. Jodi’s grandparents decided the store would be the safest place for them during the flood. They went upstairs to the office and watched the flood enter and submerge the ground floor of the store. Within four hours the water was as high as the fifth step below the office door.
“The back wall had holes in it,” Shaun explained later, “and started to break. The water hit the door, broke the lock, and pushed the door over to the wall. A tractor and a cow washed in and lodged under the office where we were. The cow’s body prevented the office floor from collapsing.”
Four hours later their many prayers were answered when they were rescued by the National Guard.

Long rows of the finest vegetables grow in the rich desert soil of southern California’s Imperial Valley. Fine people grow there, too. One of them is Darla Miles (9) of El Centro. El Centro is 45 feet (about 14 m) below sea level, but Darla’s goals are as high as the land is low. She loves the San Diego California Temple on the other side of the mountains and plans to be married there someday. In the meantime, “I want to go to college and get a good education. Then I want to go on a mission like my tía (aunt).”
Darla’s mom, Alma Puga, and her dad, Blake Miles, were both single parents when they met, fell in love, and married. Blake was the father of Jordan, and Alma was the mother of Pedro, Daniela, and Gabriela.
Later, when Darla was born, she became another strong bond binding two families into one.
Darla is easy to get along with and eager to make others happy. If a plateful of cookies is swiftly disappearing, she is sure to take one—not for herself, but for her dad. She is a natural peacemaker, and a little bit of a matchmaker, too. She often grabs her mom’s hand and puts it on her dad’s hand. Other times, she’ll write her mom a love note as if it came from her father, and then write a note to her dad from her mom.
If she should have a disagreement with a brother or sister, she’ll ask, “Will you forgive me?” Then, she says, “I’ll draw something for them or write them a note. If Mom and I are unhappy with each other, I’ll write a note to her and ask a brother or sister to give it to her. Then she will write a note back to me, and we’ll get together.”
These same tender feelings reach to heaven. “I love Heavenly Father because when I can’t find something or when I cry or when I’m scared or feel really bad, I pray and He helps me a lot. When somebody else is sad, something inside me tells me to go do something for him or her. One time, my sister couldn’t find a library book. She was sad because she thought she would have to pay for it. I prayed for her, and then I found the book. I’m thankful for my great mother and father and all the things Heavenly Father has made for us.”
She likes learning about some of those creations in school. A good student, she especially enjoys reading and math. She stays ahead of her grade level in most subjects and usually gets 100 percent on spelling tests.
Darla is responsible for dusting, cleaning her own room, and taking care of her many small fish, all of them named either Cheetah (boy fish) or Xena (girl fish). Without being asked, she has started feeding Marcy, the family dog. Sometimes she also takes care of Mizzy, the neighbor’s pup who thinks she belongs to the Miles family and keeps digging under the fence to join them.
The whole family enjoys reading, especially the scriptures. Darla received a set of scriptures when she was six years old and immediately began reading the Old Testament.
They are all musical, as well. Darla plays the piano, as do her brothers and sisters. Everyone enjoys camping, too. They often camp among pine trees in the mountains or go four-wheeling on nearby sand dunes. One year, the family went on a trip to Washington, D.C., and Church history sites without once staying in a motel. They were plagued by mosquitoes but enjoyed the wonder of fireflies. Darla’s favorite part of the trip was visiting the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, New York.
The Mormon Battalion came through the Imperial Valley in 1847. The family often joins a hike retracing a part of that historic trek. Darla has been three times on a nine-mile (more than 14 k) segment of the hike, which takes place at night to escape the fierce summer heat.
When she was eight, Darla was baptized by Jordan and confirmed by her dad. “I felt good,” she recalls. “I felt clean.” At the baptism, Brother Miles demonstrated how not to pray for inspiration, using a telephone as a prop. He picked up the receiver. “Hello. Good-bye,” he said and hung up. He explained that it isn’t enough to ask for help. We must also listen for the answer.
Christmas is Darla’s favorite holiday because it celebrates Jesus’ birth and because she likes to make presents. On Christmas Eve, her mom lets her stay up late to make pictures for everyone in the family. She gives them out on Christmas morning.
The family really celebrates two Christmases. They celebrate a “Rubio Christmas” on Christmas Eve. The Rubio Christmas includes a large, extended-family fiesta with piñatas, singing, and such delicious foods as homemade tamales and menudo soup, Darla’s favorite. Menudo is made from cows’ intestines. Tamales are made with meat, potatoes, olives, and seasonings wrapped in cornmeal and steamed inside corn husks. They are far better than the canned or plastic-wrapped tamales in stores. Another Christmas favorite is champurado, a drink made with chocolate milk and coarsely ground meal.
On Christmas morning, the immediate family members exchange gifts the American way. Then they enjoy an American Christmas dinner of mashed potatoes and gravy, yams, and turkey with cranberry sauce. The season is twice blessed by the two cultures.
Above all, Christmas and every day is blessed by Darla’s love for Jesus Christ. “Jesus is my Friend and my Savior.” Just as the waters of the Colorado River make it possible for crops to grow in this desert, His gospel has helped Darla grow into the wonderful person she is.

Two semesters back, I had an encounter with a former student that worked for me over 25 years ago on campus. Meeting him was completely unexpected for both of us, and it was a great chance encounter. The next day, he sent me a text to say what a thrill it was to see me again and how a couple of us in the electrical shop had really transformed his life at a time when he was struggling. I had no idea that we had any good influence on this young man, because we were relentless tricksters. After the text message, I reflected on the inspiration that occurred for both of us to meet on campus at such a random time and location, and how the encounter reaffirmed my testimony that we are inspired and inspire others regularly to bring about the Lord’s purposes.

When I was a sophomore at the University of Utah I started dating a young man who had just graduated in Electrical Engineering and we started spending a lot of time together. Six months later I found myself standing in a jewelry store looking at diamond rings with him. I can still remember the incredible warning I had at that moment. I suddenly had a strong feeling that I was doing the wrong thing! I wasn't supposed to marry this young man. I very quickly whispered to him that I thought we needed to go home. He was very shocked, and didn't understand, but after a few more words from me we left the store and drove back to my house. Before I got out of the car I told him that I felt prompted by the Spirit that I was making a mistake. I knew that we shouldn't proceed with our plans. I climbed out of the car, walked up the driveway, and went inside my house. I hardly even looked back; I was so sure about the message I had received. It wasn't until I met a young returned missionary named Steve Wheelwright a whole year later that I understood what the Lord had in mind for me.

Now let me continue my dating saga and tell you how I felt when I really did meet the young man I was to marry. When I look back at our courtship, I remember it as if it were yesterday. My older brother told me that he would like to line me up with a fraternity brother of his who had just returned from his mission to Scotland. I was very surprised. My brother hadn't ever done that before, but this time he said, My friend, Steve Wheelwright, is just perfect for you! You need to meet him. Well, we went to a movie on our first date with my brother and his date and then came back to our home for ice cream.

The next day Steve called and asked if I wanted to go sailing with him and some friends. I had never gone sailing in my life, and I must admit that it was white knuckles the entire day. But we laughed and talked and enjoyed ourselves so much that a few days later he called and asked if I wanted to go play tennis with him. I quickly said yes, and then after hanging up the telephone, I sank back in my chair with fear, knowing that I was a terrible tennis player! I remember walking over to my best friend Monetta's house in panic, asking her what I should do. She laughed and said, Oh Margaret, he isn't asking you to go play tennis because he wants to play tennis; he just wants to be with you! I relaxed a little, borrowed her tennis racket, and went back home and waited for him to arrive. Sure enough, he didn't seem to care that I was a lousy tennis player. We played for about an hour and then we spent the rest of the afternoon talking and enjoying each other's company.

When it came time to take our relationship to the next step, neither one of us seemed afraid or nervous committing ourselves to something more serious. The Spirit truly brought peace and comfort to me as we continued getting to know each other better. Neither of us had much money. We both had part time jobs after school, but Steve was about ready to graduate and continue in his graduate studies, and we both knew we were in love. It just was the most comfortable and natural thing in the world to go to the next level of commitment in our relationship. We became engaged in October of 1965. It was so completely different than my first experience that ended in the jewelry store! Steve had all the important characteristics on my list! He was committed to the gospel; he was kind, thoughtful, hard working, happy, respectful, and devoted to me. He made me a better person when I was with him. What more could I ever ask for?

The New Era is my favorite magazine. I eagerly await each issue. I particularly want to thank you for the February 1987 issue on temple marriage. My best friend is getting married in the temple in June, and after I read that issue from cover to cover, I let her borrow it. It was really an eye-opener for us both and answered a lot of questions we had. It also made me realize what a blessing it is to get married in the temple, and it makes it even easier to stick to my goal of going there someday. But when I’m in doubt, you can be sure I’ll sit down and read it all over again!

In 1976 I was the elders quorum president in my campus ward, and he was the high council advisor. He was already successful in his plastics business. I even remember him slipping me a personal check for $1,000 with these simple instructions: “Use this to help those who are in need in your quorum.” They were never to know where the money came from.
After a year of working with him in that ecclesiastical setting, I was surprised one day when he asked me to come to his office. There I was in plush, professional business surroundings—me, the son of a truck driver—when Jon invited me to join his company working in marketing and sales. I was honored. Sister Rasband and I had been praying for meaningful employment after graduation. Like many of you, I had a young family, and we were living on meager funds.
Jon explained that he was not interested in my academic credentials—which were not stellar—but that he had seen my strengths of leadership and character that were a good fit for his business. Those traits he observed were a strong work ethic and an ability to juggle the pressures of family, education, work, and Church service. I learned that they were his best traits.
I immediately responded that his offer was an answer to prayer and that I would love to join his company after graduation in the spring. My college degree was so important to me, my wife, and my parents.
He smiled and then said, “I need you now.” Next week, he explained, he would be in Troy, Ohio, at one of his packaging plants to negotiate with a major customer. If I wanted the job, I needed to be with him as the new account manager. That was it. The job was next week in Troy, Ohio, or no job at all.
That night, after seeking counsel from loved ones and friends, Sister Rasband and I prayed earnestly for direction. My dear wife, Melanie, was inspired with our answer. “Isn’t this what people go to college for, to find an opportunity like this one?” she asked.
We agreed that it was. The Spirit confirmed our decision, and we took the job in Ohio.
I left the campus of the University of Utah just two semesters short of receiving my degree. Eleven years later I was surprised and humbled again when Jon Huntsman appointed me president of his global corporation, with thousands of employees and billions in revenues—and still without that college degree! I am not recommending any of you skip that last, important step in your education.

When I was only about four years old, I lived in a small town in the state of Coahuila, Mexico. The town had perhaps a hundred people in it—and Coahuilan chestnut monkeys. Here, I first became aware of the Bible. Some men who taught Bible stories to children came once a week. I don’t remember what religion they belonged to, but from the very first time I heard the Bible stories, I loved them. My older brother and my younger brother, too, liked to hear them.
My father was very fond of reading the Bible. He wasn’t a Catholic, but my mother was. She took us to the Catholic church from the time we were very small. Then, in 1956, when I was twelve, the LDS missionaries came to our home. My mother didn’t want to listen to them and, rather than offend them, told them to come only when my father was home. They did and began to teach us. Only two of my brothers were still at home with me—the others were all married.
The missionaries were not only competent but very inspired in getting my mother and us children involved. Each time they came, they read something to us from the scriptures—almost always from the Book of Mormon—and the next time they came, they asked us to report on what they had told us and on what we had read. The three of us and my father and mother were baptized six months later.
When I was baptized, I was already too old for Primary. Even so, I attended it for two years. I did hold the priesthood, but the branch was small and the Primary teachers were so good that I went there. I loved it and was grateful that the teachers didn’t tell me that I couldn’t attend because I was too old. I remember three outstanding teachers. Olga Ramos, Lida del Bosque, and Irma Torres were their names. All three cared a great deal about us children. They diligently taught us and had activities for us. They were young adults then. Now they are married women with grandchildren. I am very grateful to them because it was through their teaching that I learned the gospel.
Once I was baptized, the Church was my world. What I loved best was to be at church with the other members. I remember many times being there on Saturdays with the deacons, cleaning the chapel and preparing it for Sunday. I also participated in the branch’s Mutual activities. From seeing the missionaries in Primary and at home, I decided early in my life to go on a mission. When I served my mission, I was very happy. I served two years in the west of Mexico.

Six days later, on 6 March 1970, my whole world came apart. My child was lying in a coma in a hospital and no one could help him. He was dying.
I’ll never forget that awful day as long as I live. March 5 had been a beautiful day. The sun shone and it seemed as though the whole world was ours. We had everything I had never had as a child—security, health, love, and now the Church. Little Bill was just nineteen months old, and that evening he had so much fun at the birthday party we held for his grandma. He was so happy, he ran and played and had a good time. Then in the wee hours of the sixth I awoke to the sound of Bill choking and crying. I ran to his room and there he lay, a tiny bundle of tears. He had turned nearly black, and foam was pouring out of his mouth. He was so hot to the touch that I had to wrap him in a blanket to even hold his little body.
We rushed him to the emergency room at the hospital, where we could do nothing but wait while the doctors ran tests and worked frantically to save his life. Finally our doctor came and told us that Bill’s temperature was 108 degrees. He said they could not find any cause for our baby’s frightful condition. He sent for the best baby specialist in the state. He, too, was baffled. Later in the morning we were taken into his office where he told us there was nothing he could do, that the fever would not break. My whole world was dying. I can’t recall those last hours too clearly, but I do know that I felt alone again as I had when I was a child
Ben was called away to talk to someone, and I was all by myself. I phoned my friend and told her Bill had only a few hours to live. Then I went to his room. He was so little, so very beautiful, and so still.
I sat down next to his bed, feeling numb at heart. And as I did, a feeling came over me that I cannot describe—a feeling of complete peace, the like of which I have felt only one other time, in the temple of the Lord the day our family was sealed for time and all eternity. It fell on me with such force that I was stunned and shaken. Then I looked up, and there standing at the door was a man I recognized as one of the high priests from our ward. I didn’t know his name, but I knew why he was there. I reached over and picked up Bill from the bed. He awoke when I touched his body. He looked at me for one short second, and smiled.
The man at the door said, “I am Brother Walters. The Lord has sent me to administer to this child.” Because Bill had been placed in isolation, the nurses wouldn’t let more than one visitor at a time into the room; so Brother Walters had to leave his companion in the hallway. He anointed Bill with oil and then laid his hands on his head and blessed him with health and strength—and that he would be made whole that very day.
Shortly afterward the doctor returned with a paper for me to sign. It was an autopsy consent. I refused, and he said he would be back. Ten minutes later I looked up to see my child sitting up, completely well! He climbed out of bed as if nothing had ever been wrong and padded out into the hall as fast as his little legs would carry him—his usual speed. He ran up to the doctor and grabbed him around the legs. The doctor, who was always composed and cool, looked down in astonishment. Then he picked Bill up and came running down the hall to me, laughing and crying at the same time. He shouted, “It’s a miracle!”
I agreed.
I don’t know who called Brother Walters to administer to Bill. I only know he was sent by God.

My friend Rachel asked me if I would attend church with her. She was active in her own faith, and I was curious to see how her church was different from mine. I asked my parents for permission to go with her. They said that since her worship service time did not conflict with our meeting times, I could attend.
Many things about her church’s service were unfamiliar to me: the songs and the prayers were different; the way the preacher spoke was unfamiliar. When the offering plate was circulated, I wasn’t sure what to do.
Finally, the preacher asked anyone in the group who hadn’t publicly accepted Jesus Christ as his or her Savior to come forward. Rachel whispered, encouraging me to go. I was hesitant. In our ward the bishop had never asked anyone to come forward and publicly accept Christ. I didn’t know what to do. Perhaps I hadn’t done something that was important for my salvation. I left the meeting confused.
As I thought about this experience later, I came to realize that I had indeed publicly accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior. I had been baptized by one having priesthood authority from Jesus Christ. My baptism was a covenant with Heavenly Father that I would take upon myself the name of Jesus Christ and be His disciple. I promised that I would keep His commandments and try to be like Him. Present at my baptism were priesthood holders who acted as witnesses, as well as family and ward members.
Since my baptism and confirmation, I have had the opportunity every Sunday to partake of the sacrament and witness once again to my Heavenly Father that I will continue to take upon myself the name of Christ.

When Dilson Maciel de Castro Jr. lost his job in São Paulo, he and his wife moved to Recife, a major port city in northeast Brazil, so they could live with his parents. Despite Dilson’s experience in the telecommunications industry, the only work he could find in Recife was a series of odd jobs.
“Things were very difficult for us at the time,” recalls Dilson. Their challenges went from bad to worse when the couple lost everything they owned in a flood.
At that low point, Dilson, who had served in the Brazil São Paulo South Mission, met with Elder Gutenberg Amorim, an Area Seventy and institute of religion director, to talk about career and educational options. As Dilson discussed his interests, he received a spiritual prompting that he should study medicine. Thanks to the Church’s then-recently implemented Perpetual Education Fund (PEF), in 2003 Dilson turned that prompting into a profession following an 18-month course in nursing.
“Without the fund, it would have been impossible for me to take the courses I needed,” says Dilson, who works for a public hospital in Recife. Likewise, his wife, Alexsandra, would not have been able to get a loan to pay for the education she needed to become a schoolteacher.
“Six years ago we were unemployed,” Dilson says. “The PEF was essential to all we’ve been able to accomplish. It has changed our lives.”