Gospel Story Finder

The fourth is to respect yourself as a son of God. Those of us who have served missions have seen the miracle in the lives of some we have taught as they have come to realize that they are sons and daughters of God. Many years ago an elder who served a mission in the British Isles said at the end of his labors, “I think my mission has been a failure. I have labored all my days as a missionary here and I have only baptized one dirty little Irish kid. That is all I baptized.”

Years later, after his return to his home in Montana, he had a visitor come to his home who asked, “Are you the elder who served a mission in the British Isles in 1873?”

“Yes.”

Then the man went on, “And do you remember having said that you thought your mission was a failure because you had only baptized one dirty little Irish kid?”

He said, “Yes.”

The visitor put out his hand and said, “I would like to shake hands with you. My name is Charles A. Callis, of the Council of the Twelve of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am that dirty little Irish kid that you baptized on your mission.”

That little Irish boy came to a knowledge of his potential as a son of God. Elder Callis left a lasting legacy for his large family. Serving as a mission president for 25 years and in his apostolic ministry for 13 years, he blessed the lives of literally thousands. I feel privileged to have known this great Apostle of the Lord when I was a young man.

President Jack L. Green of the Sterling Park Branch, Virginia, found another problem: his teenagers didn’t have much time for him. A solution? “I make myself available as much as possible to drive them and their friends to a dance or to an activity. That way I’ve got time to be with them and get to know their friends, and to listen to them talking with their friends. Then when I talk to them later, I know who the young people are that they’re talking about.”

Emily was bullied for several years while in middle school. “I got pushed into lockers and had spitballs thrown at me,” she says. “But mostly it was emotional—the girls would exclude me or call me names.”

Emily says that gaining a greater understanding of the Atonement helped her heal from the effects of the bullying. She found comfort in Alma’s words:
“And [Jesus] shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.
“… And he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor [help] his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:11–12).

Today, both Greg and Emily agree that the damage caused by bullying doesn’t have to last forever. Both have gone on to have successful careers and families of their own. And while neither would wish for such a painful experience again, they agree that in some ways they are better people as a result: they are more understanding of those who are struggling and are more anxious to reach out and help. And they know that their worth does not depend on what others think of them, for the worth of every soul “is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).

The man a few desks from Steve had laid out his work on two of the desks and worked steadily, ignoring the noise around him, writing on an order form, stopping occasionally to add up figures on his pocket calculator.
"Excuse me," Steve asked, "do you have any aspirin?"
"Sure do, my friend. Carry them all the time." He gave Steve two.
"You sure work hard."
"Got to stay ahead of the competition."
"What do you do?"
"Sales representative for Mity Fine Foods. I travel half this state visiting grocery stores."
"Why can’t you just take the orders over the phone?"
"I have to see how our products are being displayed, make sure Mity Fine has good shelf locations. People don’t buy from the bottom shelf, you know."
"Oh," Steve said.
"There’s a war going on and I bet you don’t even know it."
"What?"
"Yes sir, it’s a war all right. Last Memorial Day weekend, the man from Eat More Foods covered up my catsup with his signs. If I hadn’t been on the road that weekend, he’d have gotten away with it too, but I found out and ripped his signs up. Yes sir, it’s a war. But I’m staying one step ahead."
"Are you married?"
"Not any more. My wife couldn’t take my being gone all the time."
"Why didn’t you just quit your job?"
"A man my age can’t just quit any time he feels like it. Besides, I’ve got a lot built up with the company. Mity Fine has been good to me."
The man returned to his order form.
"What do you usually do on Christmas?"
"I’m staying at a motel—I get winter rates. On Christmas everything’s closed so I have this little hot plate in the room and I heat up a few cans of soup, Mity Fine, of course, and have some crackers. Then I might watch a little TV and work on New Year’s specials. We’ve got a good buy on chip dip and eggnog this year."
...
Within the hour, the preparations were done, including a Christmas tree provided by one over-eager trucker who merely chopped down the tree in front of the school. Some of the truckers went out to their rigs and brought in case lots of canned foods. The salesman from Mity Fine went to his station wagon and brought in his sample assortment of potato chips. Many of the parents went to their cars and brought in Christmas presents originally intended for family and friends at the end of their trip, and they put them under the tree. And the wives went into the school kitchen and began opening cans of ham and vegetables for the meal.

About three years ago my son, Mark, was diagnosed with cancer. Surgeons operated on him, but the cancer continued to spread. The entire family prayed and fasted for him during those long months.
I had read in the scriptures and in various conference talks how important and real the power of faith is. I decided to fast and pray, feeling that my faith was strong enough that a miracle would occur. My son would be made well, or his cancer would go into remission. I always closed my fervent prayers with “Thy will be done.”
I read every talk on faith I could find given during past general conferences or appearing in other materials published by the Church. I found talks by President Russell M. Nelson especially comforting.
Our son died on June 28, 2021. We were all devastated and heartbroken. I felt that my faith had not been strong enough after all.
One day I looked on the back cover of a general conference issue of the Liahona and saw a photo of President Nelson standing at the pulpit. Under the photo was a paragraph taken from one of his talks. He said it takes faith to join the Church, follow the prophets, serve a mission, live the law of chastity, and teach the gospel. “It takes faith to plead for the life of a loved one and even more faith,” he added, “to accept a disappointing answer.”1
I read that sentence at least three times before I realized it was meant for me. A calm feeling came over me. I knew that our prayers for my son had not been in vain. My faith was strong in a way the Lord knew and had accepted.
Our family has experienced our share of loss, including the passing of my husband and three grandsons. My faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ tells me my deceased son is with my husband and grandsons. That knowledge brings me peace. Despite our family’s adversity, we still love the Lord and His gospel, and our testimonies have grown. I testify that President Nelson is a prophet and that the counsel he gives comes from the Lord.

A miracle is taking place in the southern part of the United States. It pertains to family history and temple work. Between 1860 and 1865, hundreds of thousands of soldiers died. Many had never married.
William D. Taylor, a Canadian, found himself, together with his wife and family, living in that area of the United States and wondering about those soldiers. The Taylors have been working at getting the records of the soldiers for over four years and have sent over 101,000 of their names to the temple to have their work done for them there. Brother Taylor writes, “I am thankful for being allowed to do this work. It brings me joy unparalleled to anything I have ever known.”

The importance of what a good reputation means was emphasized to me when I entered into business many years ago with a great business leader. Our plans were to start a new wholesale business. He was to furnish the capital, and I was to furnish the management. After we reached an understanding he wrote me a check for a very large amount of money, and then he said, “If the business is a success, you will get all the credit; and if the business fails, you will likewise get all the credit.” He then went on to say, “Should the business fail, you will lose more than I will. I’ll only lose money, and I have more of that; but you will lose your reputation, which is much more valuable than money.”

Fortunately for both of us, the business was successful.

About a year after the death of our baby, we moved and I was assigned to minister to a young couple with two children. The older daughter had contracted an infection while in the womb and was born with a severe mental disability. Although she was nine years old at the time, she was like an infant developmentally. It was a struggle for the young family, who had limited means.
One day I received a phone call telling me she had died during the night. No member of the bishopric was available to visit just then, so I was asked to visit until they could get there. I arrived as her body was being removed, and I had a chance to talk with the father. The wife’s ministering sister arrived and did an amazing job comforting the family and taking care of the home.
I went with the father to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I suppose I was able to render some service because of my prior experiences. I don’t consider myself a great ministering brother, but I was glad I wasn’t a stranger in that home.

Seventeen-year-old Kim Sherwood of Victor, New York, is delighted to be among those gathered in the study shelter as they get the day under way by singing “Oh, How Lovely Was the Morning.” Equally enthused are her three teenage sisters, Kris, Kari, and Koni, 14, 13, and 12, respectively, and virtually every other member of the cast of more than 500 from 22 states, Mexico, and Canada.
“I’m so excited. I’d rather be here right now than any other place,” Kim says. “I’m looking forward to meeting new friends, having new experiences, telling people about the Book of Mormon, and strengthening my testimony.”
In addition to the Salute-to-Rochester scene, Kim Sherwood is assigned to the “Yearning Scene” and the “Flag Scene.” She’s delighted. Everyone has an assigned companion, and she and Holly Phippen, of Roanoke, Virginia, immediately hit it off and become fast friends.
A writer interviewing Kim asks her if she would like a major role in the pageant instead of being assigned to “crowd scenes.”
“Sure,” she says, “that would be great, but there just aren’t that many female characters in the Book of Mormon.”
“Have you ever thought about the possibility of playing the role of Mary in Nephi’s vision of the Nativity Scene?” she is asked.
“That would be wonderful,” she responds. “Any of the girls here would be honored, but that’s not up to me. There are hundreds of young girls here for the pageant, and I think the Lord and the pageant director might have something to say about who gets that role.”
Three days into rehearsal, assistant director Virginia Schmidt reminds Dr. Sederholm that he has yet to choose someone to play the role of Mary. Mary has no dialogue. No movement. She simply sits and holds the baby Jesus in the Nativity Scene.
“But the role is among the more significant in the pageant,” Sister Schmidt says. “Mary is the mother of the Savior. She must have dignity. She must be pleasant looking. She must have a particular spirit about her. We look for someone with that special look and that special spirit.”
Sister Schmidt and Dr. Sederholm review the older girls in the cast. All are worthy candidates, they agree, but then their eyes fall on a brown-haired 17-year-old from Victor.
“That’s Mary!” the directors agree, and moments later a thrilled Kim Sherwood is excitedly telling her parents about the special honor that has come her way.
“How do I feel? It’s hard to describe. It’s so exciting, so flattering, and yet so challenging. I consider it a privilege and a blessing to be chosen, and I just hope that I can portray it the way the Lord wants me to. I pray that I can touch people in some small way.”
Night after night the show goes on. Aaron Moore fights his perpetual losing battle with Ammon, Kim Sherwood maintains a regal presence in the Nativity Scene, and thousands receive the message of the Book of Mormon and the restored gospel.
Finally, it’s Saturday night of the second week—time for the final performance. The same enthusiasm that has prevailed for two weeks is still there, but somehow it’s different. Everyone realizes that after this one, it’s all over. That’s it.
The show goes on. Once again the audience is impressed by the dazzling lights, the sound, the music, the story. Many are moved by the message. As the final scene fades, the “house lights” go on, and the crowd begins working its way to the parking lots. But “back stage”—back in the trees on the hill—no one is in a hurry to leave. There are hugs and handshakes, tears of joy at having had the experience, and tears of sorrow at the knowledge that it’s over. The cast assembles and sings the inevitable “God Be with You Till We Meet Again,” and the tears flow even more freely. Kim Sherwood and Holly Phippen, friends forever, say good-bye, as do countless others who have formed similar lasting bonds of friendship.

I remember a story told by Jon Huntsman Sr. about a visit he made to President Howard W. Hunter one day. The story greatly impressed me.
Brother Huntsman decided to visit President Hunter and found him to be sick. President Hunter said that he was feeling terrible pain in his body, and he asked Brother Huntsman to give him a blessing. Brother Huntsman then asked President Hunter what he thought was causing his illness. President Hunter told him that he had had an unkind thought about another man and it made him physically sick all day.
When I first heard that story, I thought, “There is no hope for me!” However, whenever I am tempted to treat another unkindly, I try to remember President Hunter’s example of brotherly kindness.

On another occasion I met with a less-active woman. I recall entering her home for the first time along with the missionaries and knowing that she had a testimony; she just needed a little bit of “kindling” to help it burn brighter. As we sat in her living room and listened to her, the Spirit was strong and prompted us to bear testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
In the following months she came to church sporadically. But I was continually led by the Spirit and bore my testimony to her. Today she is active and serving in the branch.

Guess what? Dad just got home, and he’s COVERED in mud! He wants to talk to me and Peter right away. I gotta go! Now that Dad’s the bishop of our ward, he’s gone a lot. I woke up extra early, and he was already out visiting people.

Turns out Dad was muddy because all the rain made the creek rise. And it flooded the Wilsons’ ranch! The only way to protect their house was to dig ditches to give the water somewhere to go. So me and Peter and Dad came to the rescue!

I missed most of the parade. But I don’t feel grumpy at all. In fact, I feel … I don’t know. Grateful? While we were digging, a lot of ward members and other people showed up to help. By the time we were done, I realized I had a LOT to be thankful for:

Having a family that’s not afraid to get muddy helping someone out

Our ward family, and all their extra shovels

A warm, dry house to come back to

So now there’s mud in my hair. And on my clothes. And look, even in my journal!

I guess my perfect Thanksgiving didn’t go exactly as planned. But seeing how happy the Wilsons were made it all worth it. The rain hasn’t stopped, but I’m feeling pretty sunny!

Sincerely,
Maisy

My dad had joined the Church in Utah in December 1991. When he came back to Nigeria, we went to church for the first time. I got baptized in January 1992 when I was nine years old. When I was 14, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), came to Nigeria at Port Harcourt. My family drove from Owerri to Port Harcourt. When we were driving back, the airport is along the Owerri road, we saw the prophet’s car. We told my father “Follow him”.
So, we followed the prophet to the airport. At the airport, they told the prophet some members had come to say goodbye. Nobody told us to come. We were just lucky to see the prophet on the way. While the prophet was shaking all our hands, he shook my hand and held my it and said, “Will you go on a mission?”
I said “Yes”.
The prophet said, “If you go on a mission, the Lord will bless you and your family.”
I was 14 years then and had not entered university. I got my first degree before going on a mission. I entered university life in Nigeria. University life was different and influenced me. Then the miracles began. After you get your degree, you are required to do a year of national youth service. When I was called to do my national service, I was called to Lagos. Normally, a lot of people pay money in bribes to the government to go to Lagos, but I didn’t pay anything. While I was in Lagos, I had a mighty change of heart and I prepared to go on a mission. From Lagos I was sent to Accra as a missionary. I met my wife and came back to Accra after my mission, and we got married in 2010.
I am from Nigeria; but I live in Ghana. In January 2023, I went to my village to participate in the presidential election. The Church is not there. One day a man and a woman came to visit me at my house. I am married to a Ghanaian, and they wanted to talk to me. While visiting with them, what came into my mind was the question, “what can I do for this family?” I felt like the best gift I could give this family was the gospel. I asked them if I could come to their home on Tuesday to teach them. As I was teaching them, they were responding positively. I focused on family and taught them the importance of family first. I then went to the house next door to teach their neighbors. I did not even start with my kindred. My kindred came to me later and were upset. They said to me, “how can you start a church and not even tell us?”
It was not my plan to do missionary work when I was there. I took my scriptures, but I did not even take a white shirt and tie.
As I was going around teaching the people of the village, there was a man who was baptized in 1982. He joined the Church in Lagos but when he came back to the village, the Church was not there. He became a pastor and used the Church’s Bible Dictionary and Topical Guide to teach. The people there thought he was a brilliant pastor. They didn’t know where he was getting his information from. Because he was technically a member, I focused on teaching his wife and daughter. The whole family got baptized. I was using my own money to hire a van to go to church in Umuahia, which was the closest place. The bishop and stake president were happy to receive us. My father even came from the city to the village to go to church with us.
I told my elder brother, who is a stake president in Owerri, what was going on. He said we fell under the Nigeria Enugu Mission. Eventually, we got permission to worship in my village. We decided to use my grandfather’s house to hold church in. My grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, white missionaries came to him and he said he would support the Church, this was back in the 90’s.
The people helped me move all the property and clean the house. The people cleaned the house as if they were members, but they were not yet baptized. The missionaries came and on the first Sunday, we had about 19 baptisms and later more, for a total of 39 baptisms. The stake president has applied for us to become a branch. My father came and bore his testimony and said he never thought the Church would be in his village.
The group still worships in my grandfather’s house. From my village, we now have two high councilmen called. There is someone enrolled in BYU Pathways. The Church is growing, and it makes me happy.

After doing “all things that lie in our power,” then it is time to “stand still … to see the salvation of God.” I saw this while serving as a ministering brother to the McCormick family. Married for 21 years, Mary Kay served faithfully in her callings. Ken was not a member of the Church and had no interest in becoming one, but loving his wife, he chose to attend church with her.
One Sunday I felt impressed to share my testimony with Ken. I asked him if I could do so. His response was simple and clear: “No, thank you.”
I was puzzled. I had felt a prompting and tried to follow it. It was tempting to decide that I had done my part. But after prayer and reflection, I could see that though my intentions were correct, I had relied too much on myself and too little on the Lord.
Later I returned but with a different mindset. I would go simply as an instrument in the Lord’s hands, with no other desire than to follow the Spirit. Together with my faithful companion, Gerald Cardon, we entered the McCormick home.
Soon after, I felt prompted to invite Gerald to sing “I Know That My Redeemer Lives.” He gave me a questioning look, but having faith in my faith, he did it. A beautiful spirit filled the room. The prompting came to invite Mary Kay and Kristin, their daughter, to share their testimonies. As they did so, the Spirit grew stronger. In fact, after Kristin’s testimony, tears were streaming down Ken’s cheeks.
God had taken over. Hearts were not just touched but changed forever. Twenty-one years of unbelief were washed away by the power of the Holy Ghost. A week later, Ken was baptized. A year later, Ken and Mary Kay were sealed in the house of the Lord for time and for all eternity.
Together we had experienced what it meant to replace our will with the Lord’s will, and our faith in Him increased.

When I was 15, my father and I took a walk one Sunday evening. Suddenly, my father stopped and suggested that we go to the Mormon Church. I was surprised, but out of curiosity I went with him. The choir was singing a beautiful hymn. I had never heard anything so touching.
After the song, a missionary stood up and gave a talk about the Godhead. He later talked to my father and me for a few minutes.
I didn’t go back to church until one year later when I went to learn English from the missionaries. When each English class ended, we drifted into religious discussions. The missionaries taught me about the gospel and how to pray to God the Father in the name of Jesus Christ. They told me about the Restoration of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith, the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, and many other gospel principles.
All this was so new to me, yet it had a familiar sound. I studied the scriptures intently and prayed sincerely for enlightenment, which was given to me.
My father noticed a change in me. But when he realized that I was getting serious about the Church, he became angry and forbade me to go to church. I went anyway. Frequently he sent my brother to bring me home in the middle of Church meetings.
When I turned 17, my father asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I told him I wanted his approval to be baptized. He pounded his fist on the table and shouted, “Never!”
By this time my parents had joined a different church. My father sent the church’s minister and others to talk to me, but I was firm in my testimony of the gospel. Father told me I was a disgrace to the family, and I was forced to leave home. I stayed at the home of a Relief Society sister for about a week. During that time my father’s heart was softened, and he allowed me to come home.
Within several months my father realized that nothing could take away the testimony I had of the gospel, so he gave his consent for me to be baptized. My joy and happiness were so great that they made a deep impression on my father. He even wanted to go with me to Oslo to attend my baptism.
All through this time, my mother didn’t say very much, but I could tell that she believed the gospel was true. We spent many hours talking about the gospel together.
However, the struggle was not over at home. My father wouldn’t listen to me. I put pamphlets on his nightstand, as he always read long into the night. I invited the missionaries to our home often, and they talked to my father, but nothing seemed to help.
One day my father asked me, “Do you ever pray?” I told him that I prayed every day that his eyes would be opened to the truthfulness of the gospel. He responded that it was all from the devil but then said, “Let’s pray together.”
I said, “All right, you pray to your God, and I will pray to my God, and we will see which answers first.” So we did.
Soon after that I started noticing that he was reading the pamphlets and the Book of Mormon. He went to church several times with me but would never talk about it or show me any change in his beliefs. Still, there was rarely a day when we didn’t discuss different principles of the gospel.
One day, after three years of this, he told me he was going to Oslo and wanted me to go with him. When we arrived at the station, one of the local elders was there. I asked him where he was going.
The elder said, “Don’t you know? I’m going to baptize your father.”
I cried and laughed! One month later my mother and youngest brother were also baptized. My sister and her husband joined the Church a short time later, as did three of my brothers.
Sara Elvira Eriksen’s faithful posterity in the Church now numbers in the hundreds. This account from her personal history was submitted by her children, Rose Anderson, Betty Farley, Aksel Tanner, and Janet Bylund.

Chung walked down a busy street in Taiwan. His friend Jiro was close beside him. People were everywhere! Shoppers looked at clothes for sale, kids played games, and people hurried by talking on their phones. Chung held tight to his school bag to make sure he didn’t drop it.
“I can’t believe the school year is almost over!” Chung said loudly so Jiro could hear.
“I know! I’m ready to be done with classes,” Jiro said.
Chung and Jiro passed stands that sold all kinds of foods. Dragon fruit and strawberries. Sizzling dumplings. Peanut ice-cream rolls. Delicious smells were everywhere! But all Chung could think about was how hot and sticky he felt.
“I feel like I’m in an oven!” Chung said.
“Me too,” Jiro said. “Let’s buy some drinks.”
They made their way to a stand selling brightly colored drinks.
Jiro pulled out some money. “Two boba teas, please.”
Chung knew that tea was against the Word of Wisdom. “Actually, could I have a mango juice?” he asked.
Jiro turned to look at Chung. Chung’s stomach squirmed. Did Jiro think he was weird for not getting tea?
The woman handed a cold boba tea to Jiro and a mango juice to Chung. Then the boys walked back into the street toward their homes.
Jiro slurped his drink. “Why didn’t you want tea? It’s so good!”
Chung bit his lip. “Um, I don’t drink tea.”
“Why not?”
Chung thought about how to answer the question. The missionaries had taught him about the Word of Wisdom. In his Primary class he’d learned that keeping the Word of Wisdom helped him have the Holy Ghost with him.
“I believe in God, and He wants me to take care of my body. He asks that we don’t drink tea or coffee or alcohol,” Chung said.
“How do you know that?” Jiro asked.
“I learned about it at church.”
Jiro took another sip of his drink. “That seems silly. It’s just tea! It won’t hurt you.”
Chung’s stomach felt like it was full of jumping frogs. How could he help Jiro understand? Maybe someone at church could help him explain it to Jiro.
“Would you like to come to church with me sometime? I go to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You could learn about God and Jesus Christ.”
Jiro thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“OK,” said Chung. He felt a little sad that Jiro didn’t want to come to church with him. But he was still glad he had shared his testimony.
Later that week at school, Chung’s teacher, Mr. Lin, called for everyone’s attention. “Tomorrow is the last day of class. Because everyone has worked so hard this year, I have a surprise. We will all be having boba tea!”
The whole class cheered. Everyone except Chung. He slid down in his seat. Telling his teacher he didn’t drink tea would be even harder than telling Jiro! Everyone would think that was weird, just like Jiro did.
Jiro raised his hand. “Mr. Lin? Chung doesn’t drink tea. It’s a part of his religion. Could he have a mango juice instead?”
Mr. Lin turned to Chung. “Is that true, Chung?”
Chung nodded.
Mr. Lin smiled. “OK. I’ll order you juice instead.”
After school, Chung and Jiro walked home together. “Thanks for doing that,” Chung said.
Jiro smiled. “You’re my friend. If something is important to you, then it’s important to me.”

Cherry was 12 years old when her mom died. Cherry was not yet a member of the Church and felt that her life no longer had meaning. She felt broken and sad and alone. She even thought about taking her own life. Then she learned about the gospel, and she is now preparing to be baptized for her mom in the temple. She knows that because the Savior died and was resurrected, we will all be resurrected someday. Death is not the end.

Following in their dad’s fleet footsteps, David and Stuart Deacon are two of the top runners in England. And they both hope to run in the Olympics someday.
The goal is not too farfetched. David, a recently returned missionary, currently in police training, ran the 100 meters in the U.K. open championships with the top runners in the nation.
Stuart will have to wait a bit longer, though. He has clocked exceptional times in the 1,500 meters but has put his running career on hold to serve in the Belgium Brussels Mission.
“I feel that keeping the Word of Wisdom has been one of the major factors to our success in athletics,” says David.
Stuart agrees, and said, after winning numerous events at the Church All British Championships, “I was still recovering from mumps, and I’m convinced that because of obedience to the Word of Wisdom, my body was able to respond well to the priesthood blessing I received.”

Arriving home after a hard day’s work, I discovered that my wife had gone to visit some of our children who lived in a city some seventy-five kilometers away; she left me a note saying she would be back later in the evening.
I prepared something to eat and was just sitting down when, through the window, I saw my home teachers, Sven Jensen and L. D. Meyers, coming to the door. I greeted them without any real enthusiasm, explaining that I was sitting down to eat. Could they come back in a few minutes? They cheerfully replied, “We tried to call for an appointment, George, but there was no answer. So we took a chance on finding you home. We’ll visit another family and then come back.”
Half an hour later, they returned. After a few pleasant words of greeting, Sven smiled, and said, “George, we would like to read through an article written by President Benson.” It sounded interesting, but I was tired and my interest quickly faded when he added: “We will go over each of his twelve points on how to overcome depression.” (See “Do Not Despair,” Tambuli, March 1987.) I realized I was going to be there for quite a while.
“Number one,” Sven said, then he paused and looked up from the text into my eyes. At that instant we exchanged a wonderful, yet silent, communication. I thought of the many times I had met this faithful man at church. Sven would look for me, shake my hand, and say, “George, do you still know the gospel’s true?” Knowing the question was coming, I’d stand as straight and tall as I could and reply with all the dignity I could, “Yes, Sven, I know with all my heart that the gospel is true.”
He would smile as he seemed to look into my soul and say, “That’s good, George.”
As Sven began covering point number one in the article on how to overcome depression, he explained, “First, George, if you’re depressed you have to repent.”
Then he asked, “Why is it we have to repent?” I said, “Well, I remember the Book of Mormon says that ‘despair cometh because of iniquity.’” (Moro. 10:22.)
As Sven read each point in the article, he looked up from the magazine and right at me, saying, “This sounds just like you, George.” He continually made me feel good about myself with sincere compliments. As he got to point ten, I found myself no longer wanting him to finish. There was a comforting spirit in the room.
After Sven made the twelfth point, he closed the magazine and smiled at me. “What do you think of that, George?” I could scarcely speak. What I thought—what it seemed like—was that President Ezra Taft Benson had just come to my home and visited me. But because he couldn’t come himself, he had sent a special messenger to represent him. I knew I had heard the words of the prophet spoken by the mouth of my home teacher, and I knew the message had touched my heart.
Later, as we walked toward the front door, Sven sensed that something had happened during the visit, and his eyes were moist as we shook hands. Then my home teachers were gone, but their message was still with me. I had been a little depressed when they came, but not now. Now I had been spiritually refreshed and was ready to return to my duty.
Later that night, I decided there was a thirteenth way to overcome depression—and that way was to have home teachers come to love, teach, and bless you.

Elizabeth Fetzer Bates, a piano teacher and the mother of six children, became totally blind in 1951. She accepted her blindness as a challenge and decided that she would learn to do everything that she could. She said, “I wrote ‘Pioneer Children’ because we are all pioneers—we’ve never been in today before.”
In 1969, she wrote “Book of Mormon Stories” because she loves the Book of Mormon and is grateful for America.
She thinks that children like this song because it is simple and true.
Sister Bates still teaches piano lessons, and she believes that everyone should write a song. “Heavenly Father has created so many lovely things that we should sing as we walk along! We can always be happy if we remember to be grateful.”