Gospel Story Finder

It all started when my friend Brett said, “Last night when I talked to my friend, I found out that her parents have been telling her stuff about our religion, making us sound really bad. She told me that I was wrong for being Mormon, and she seemed to have plenty of evidence. Lots of stuff that I didn’t know about. I figured I can’t defend this if I don’t know what we believe.”
Then he asked me, “Do you want to come over and study scriptures tonight? You know, we could do a little reading, look some stuff up.”
“Seriously?” I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. It was just that I was taken off guard. I mean, how many teenagers hang out on weeknights to study the scriptures for fun?
“Sure, I guess,” I accepted slowly. “If you really want to.”
Brett was the only other Church member in my grade, and he’d never seemed very religious. I still remember being surprised my sophomore year when I first met him. He asked me why I chose not to date until I was 16. I was astounded by his question because Brett had been an active member his entire life but he somehow still didn’t know some of the basic teachings of the Church. To him, church was a Sunday thing. I remembered answering Brett’s question about my decision not to date until 16 and then enlightening him on many other standards we had as Church members.
Now, as seniors, we’d grown to be close friends. And once again I found myself surprised by Brett.
I arrived at his house not sure what to expect. As I walked into his family’s study, I noticed the Bible was open and several LDS reference materials were stacked on the desk. He’d already begun. “Look at this,” he said excitedly, pointing to James 2:21–26.
“I thought we could find some answers.” Then he asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
“After listening to my friend, I know I need to study more,” Brett continued.
“So, are you looking up things about the points she made?” I asked.
“Yeah. I can see where she’s coming from, but you know, the more I find out about what we believe,” he continued, “the more I see and feel just how right our beliefs are. It’s exciting. I want you to help me.”
I’d never considered the scriptures exciting before. I felt humbled by his enthusiasm. He wanted my help because I’d read the Book of Mormon, prayed, felt the Spirit, and from then on hadn’t had doubts.
But at that moment, I realized I too needed to search the scriptures more.
Brett and I really studied the scriptures that night and found the answers to his questions. Time and time again, Brett searched the scriptures in response to criticisms of the Church. As he learned to trust the scriptures, his testimony grew. Not only did that study help him talk with his friend, but his example of asking questions and finding the answers in the scriptures made a difference for me too.

Crystal cried on her first day. She wrote: “My former Young Women leader put her arm around me and invited me to sit with her. I was with wives, mothers, and grandmothers. I shared my feelings, and they listened. For the first time I felt the strength of being part of a group of women striving to be more like Christ. I felt so blessed to be a part of this worldwide organization.”

Who would have known that a decision I made when I was 11 would influence the rest of my life?
At that time, my family seldom attended church. But my brother and I attended Primary. My teacher, in a lesson on temple marriage, said, “You have to decide now that you’re going to be married in the temple. It can’t wait. Decide today.” That was the first time I remember feeling touched by the Spirit, and I did decide, right then, that my goal was to marry in the temple.
For a few years, nothing changed. I seldom attended church, but I thought differently. I believed someday I would go to the temple.
Eventually that one decision began to affect other decisions. When I was 14, I decided that a person planning to go to the temple needed to take seminary. I saw myself as a seminary-going kind of person.
My friends from seminary attended Young Women activities, so I started going, too. I decided someone who planned to receive temple blessings would be helped by earning her Young Womanhood Recognition award. It wasn’t easy because of my late start in Church activity, but a great leader helped me set extra goals to catch up.
One of my goals was 100 percent attendance at Church meetings for one month. It was hard to have my parents drop me off each week. Sometimes I coaxed my little sister into going with me so I wouldn’t have to sit alone. Achieving that goal helped me see that I was a church-going kind of person.
I made mistakes, lots of them. Sometimes I became discouraged and thought my temple dream would never come true. A loving bishop guided me, taught me about repentance, and helped me find the determination to endure. He helped me remember that no matter how difficult, reaching the temple would be worth every effort, every sacrifice I made.
Turning 16 brought more decisions. One of my Sunday School teachers warned, “You will marry someone you date. Make sure you date the kind of person you can marry in the temple.” I took his advice seriously and asked myself about each friendship, “Is this the kind of person I could go to the temple with?” Sometimes my judgment was off. Still I kept to my plan until I found the right person to marry in the right place.
My parents supported me in all my decisions. Mom and Dad stood with me on the stand in sacrament meeting the day I received my Young Womanhood medallion. They were there when I graduated from seminary. They were with me when I received my patriarchal blessing, and they supported me as I attended Ricks College.
They were both with me the day I walked to the doors of the temple. I had finally reached the point when I would enter the temple and receive the blessings I had learned about and looked forward to. The statue of the angel Moroni, reflecting in the early morning sun on the temple spire, seemed to proclaim my joy to the world. I kissed my parents good-bye as I entered.
If I had waited to decide where to marry, it would have been too difficult to leave my parents outside and be married inside the temple. I wouldn’t have had a strong enough testimony of the gospel, of the importance of the temple, and of the necessity of making eternal covenants. I may not even have had the opportunity to decide. Leaders, bishops, and friends had helped me. My family had supported me. But I never would have made it if I hadn’t first decided I was going to be married in the temple.
In the temple I learned more about Heavenly Father’s plan for me. I learned I hadn’t completed my goal at all. I had only made one more step. So I decided right then to keep my temple covenants, no matter how difficult. I decided I will someday return to live with my Heavenly Father.

White puffs of frozen breath tickled my nose as I twisted the key in the lock on hangar 20, row four. It opened with a click, and John and I worked together to pull the dilapidated doors wide apart to reveal our pride and joy—a shiny blue-and-white, single-engine Piper Dakota airplane, number 80838. We had come to the airport for flying practice for John, who was working on getting an instrument rating. I was to be the safety or copilot, and John’s son Duane had come along just for the ride.
The asphalt pavement was damp with moisture from a low layer of fog which had enveloped the valley. Visibility was down to less than a mile on the ground, but if you looked straight up at the sky you could see the round lustrous disk of the sun trying to shine through. I let John preflight the airplane while I closed the hangar doors. Then with anticipation of an enjoyable morning the three of us climbed aboard.
“Salt Lake Clearance, this is Dakota 80838. IFR clearance on request to Brigham City for a practice ADF approach,” John’s voice crackled in my headphones. As we waited for clearance to go, I explained some of the instruments and procedures to Duane, who was sitting in the back seat. Each instrument has an important purpose and each must be checked for accuracy to ensure a safe flight through the fog. The compass, the directional gyro, altitude indicator, and especially the VOR were all important for this flight because we would be taking off in very marginal conditions and could possibly be coming back to land in even more reduced visibility.
The fog seemed to be getting more dense the longer we waited to go. The cold temperature inside the cockpit caused our breath to condense on the windows, making it even more difficult to see. I could sense that Duane was just a little nervous about the whole experience, but he didn’t say a word. John did the pretakeoff run-up, called the tower, and then we were on our way, straight down the runway.
The soft muted glow of the runway lights slipped by faster and faster as the little plane gained speed. Then suddenly we were airborne. The runway disappeared below us, and within what seemed like only a few seconds, we were enveloped in a soft gray nothingness. The roar of the engine filled our ears, and I had the feeling that we were beginning to turn to the left. As safety pilot I had been watching the instruments carefully and noted that we were holding our correct heading, our pitch was okay, and altitude proper. My feelings were all in my mind. We were on instruments and had to trust them now no matter what our other senses might try to tell us.
I remembered hearing stories when I was first learning to fly about pilots who got into clouds and tried to follow their senses instead of the instruments. They would go into what was called a “graveyard spiral.” The pilot begins to turn slightly and loses a little of the normal lift of the wing. To correct this the pilot pulls back a little on the yoke, which tightens the turn and makes him lose more lift, a cycle which keeps getting worse as he pulls back harder and harder, eventually spiraling him right into the ground.
We had only been airborne a few minutes, but it seemed longer, when the gray mist around us began to get brighter and brighter. Then, like flipping on a brilliant radiant light, we broke out on top and sunlight bathed our faces. Above, the sky was blue and bright. Below, the entire valley looked like a gigantic ocean filled with white frothy water. The mountains raised their snow-covered peaks in majestic grandeur. Duane smiled, I smiled, and John smiled. It is a challenge to fly for the first time under real instrument conditions while in training, and John had done well.
The rest of the flight went smoothly. We flew along the charted course and made an instrument approach into Brigham City, then headed back. The sea of clouds was still there, and as we got closer to home, I could once again feel the tension rising just a little from the back seat. I knew Duane trusted his dad, but he was still wondering just how we would get back down through this when we couldn’t see.
We were descending now, and the clouds were getting closer. Soon they closed in around us, and once again there was nothing to see but dull gray mist. The sound of the engine seemed to get louder, and our eyes strained to see something—anything that would give us a clue of our position. Nothing came. A minute went by, then two. The cross needles were centered on the instruments, speed was okay, we should be all right. Suddenly there was a flash, a brilliant, yet fog-shrouded light, then another and another and then a whole line of bright white lights leading our little plane right out of the murk and in perfect position to land on the broad expanse of runway that we could now make out before us. The landing was smooth, and although two of us had been through this before, there were three silent sighs of relief when we felt the wheels touch the ground. It had been a great day.
As we taxied back toward the hangar, I turned in the seat and said to Duane, “Well, how did you like flying through the clouds?”
“Oh, it was okay,” he answered. “I sure felt like Enos though.”
“Enos?” I asked, “What do you mean?”
“I just prayed a lot,” said Duane, and we all laughed together.

Interfaith in Aberdeen has been established for 25 years, but, only in the past few years has the Church been heavily involved in making a difference and building relationships with other faiths.
This summer the ward started engaging in weekly Interfaith Football, with its rising generation. Recently the local radio station interviewed players. (View the YouTube item at https://youtu.be/svHnQXBAzzU.)
Over the 2021/2022 winter months the ward hopes to move the weekly event into its cultural hall to keep it alive.
The Aberdeen Stake vision for this year is taken from Mosiah 18:21 in particular the part that states “Having their hearts knit hearts together in unity”. Working together, members of both religions have managed to make these events not only happen regularly but also to have more of their friends come and join in. They have not only grown to respect each other as players but also have become friends who respect one another for their fair play and zeal for the game.
A bond has developed between the teams and they feel they can invite each other to future events.
The stake Young Men’s president attends regularly along with the bishop and his sons.
We are confident that the success of this venture will reap great rewards in bringing unity and understanding, and respect for each other’s faith.
The stake vision for this year is taken from Mosiah 18:21 where we foster a common link allowing us to knit our hearts together.

“Billy! Time to get up, or you’ll be late for school,” called Mother.
Billy Burke snuggled farther down under the warm quilt and wished that he didn’t have to get up. It was raining, and rainy days are nice times to burrow down in bed and sleep.
“Billy, do you hear me? I don’t want to have to come up there and get you. Hurry now, or you’ll be late for school.”
“Yes, Mother, I’m coming.”
Billy knew his mother didn’t want him to be late for school, but his horse, Brownie, could be depended on to get him there before the bell rang.
Living seven miles out in the country was fun most of the time. However, it meant that he had to get up earlier in the morning than the other kids and that he didn’t have as much time to play after school. He had his own horse to ride, though, and Billy thought he was about the luckiest ten-year-old boy in the county.
While Mrs. Burke piled hotcakes onto Billy’s plate, she said, “I want you to start early this morning because of the rain.”
Billy couldn’t understand why his mother never liked the rain when there was so little of it in this dry land. Nevertheless, he ate his breakfast quickly and went outside to the barn. Brownie stood in his stall, hunched against the chilly dampness. When Billy tried to put the saddle on Brownie, the horse shied away. “Stand still, Brownie. Do you want us to be late for school?”
Brownie usually liked the walk to school and the attention he got from the other children. Sometimes someone would bring him an apple or some carrots. But Brownie was behaving in a most peculiar way this morning.
“I know what’s the matter with you—you’re afraid the rain’ll make you rust, aren’t you? Well, it won’t,” Billy said as he tightened the cinch. As Billy rode out of the yard, he gave a quick wave to his mother.
The road followed the river up a narrow, steep canyon for the first two of the seven miles to town. There was no place to go in case of trouble except up the canyon walls—and that was where Brownie was going now!
“Brownie! Have you gone loco? Stay on the road.”
The usually obedient horse had a mind of his own this morning. Laying back his ears, he kept trying to climb the steep canyon wall, slipping and sliding on the loose stones. Billy did something that he had seldom done before—he smacked the little horse on the rump with the ends of the reins.
Ignoring Billy’s irritation, Brownie continued to scramble up the steep slope. The rain had seeped into the ground enough so that it was very difficult for the horse to keep his footing. Gooey mud tugged at his hooves, and the rocks were bruising his legs, but he kept struggling upward.
“Brownie! Please! I have to get to school. You know Mrs. Thompson gets cross if anyone is late. Now, come on. Please!”
Brownie slipped and went to his knees, then regained his footing and climbed frantically toward the top of the canyon walls.
Billy was getting scared. Brownie had never acted this way before. Realizing that he could not make the horse go back down to the road, Billy let the horse have his way. Once on the brow of the hill, Brownie headed straight home.
“Why aren’t you in school?” Mother asked.
“Brownie had other ideas, Mother. I couldn’t make him stay on the road.”
“Something must be wrong. Brownie never behaved that way before, and he’s trembling,” Mother said as she stroked Brownie’s neck. “Billy, why don’t you go inside, put some dry clothes on, and have a cup of cocoa. I’ll take care of Brownie.”
Suddenly, with a roar that shook the earth, a torrent of water surged down the river and through the canyon. It moved boulders as if they were pebbles, and great fingers of water reached out and grabbed trees and brush, devouring them in huge, gluttonous bites.
Billy turned and shouted above the roar, “Mother, what’s happening?”
“The river is flooding. There must have been a cloudburst in the mountains, and it’s just now reaching here. The farther it goes, the faster and more furiously it rages. You’d never have made it to school if Brownie had stayed in the canyon!” Mother declared.
Later, after Billy and his mother had thanked Heavenly Father for their safety, Billy helped her peel apples in the warm, cheerful kitchen.
“Well, now, apple pie sounds good on a cold, wet day like this, doesn’t it?” Mother asked.
“It sure does,” Billy answered as he went out the kitchen door with a bowlful of apple peelings. “And this ‘apple pie’ is for the smartest and bravest horse that ever set foot on this earth!”

“On arriving in America, we moved to a suburb of Chicago. Because we couldn’t speak English, we were frequently ridiculed. Mother often escorted us to school for our protection. My brother and I, in turn, were very protective of our little sister.

Sometimes I like to make things bigger than they really are. I like to imagine that my life is more exciting and that some spectacular, dramatic event will happen to me that will change everything.
Perhaps that’s why it always frustrated me that when I said my prayers I didn’t get a big, warm feeling or see visions. I believed the gospel was true because practically everyone I knew said so. My life revolved around the Church. I mean, how could it not be true? But I wanted to feel something. A voice out of nowhere frankly telling me, “The Church is, without a doubt, true,” wouldn’t have been disappointing. I guess I expected miracles from the gospel. With tear-filled eyes, I prayed to Heavenly Father, but nothing seemed to happen.
Then one night I felt a sudden need to read the scriptures. As I read in Mosiah, an increasing happiness burned inside me. It told how, after hearing King Benjamin speak, the people were overcome with the spirit of the Lord. And it “wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually” (Mosiah 5:2).
That’s what the Spirit is, I thought. The feeling of love when you choose the right, the warm reassurance to keep making good choices. I had felt it all along but didn’t recognize it.
I know that our Heavenly Father listens to us. Although sometimes we don’t acknowledge the answers until we understand them, he does answer our prayers.

In 1975, as a result of a civil war, Arnaldo and Eugenia Teles Grilo and their children had to leave behind their home and all that they had built through decades of hard work. Back in their native country of Portugal, Brother and Sister Teles Grilo faced the challenge of starting all over again. But years later, after joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they said, “We lost everything we had, but it was a good thing because it compelled us to consider the importance of eternal blessings.”
They lost their earthly home, but they found the way back to their heavenly home.

Ryan Periga was grinning as he walked to the front of the classroom. Ryan was the president of our deacons quorum, and it was his turn to present our priesthood lesson.
“We’re going to do something a little different today,” he announced, holding out a box with a picture of Snoopy on the front. “I brought a jigsaw puzzle, and Brother Warner said we could spend a few minutes putting it together.”
He opened the box and spilled the contents out on the floor. He dropped to his knees and looked around. “Well, don’t just sit there,” he said. “Give me a hand!”
He didn’t have to ask twice. We were typical 12- and 13-year-old boys, and we were always anxious for something to do. Even if it meant working on a child’s jigsaw puzzle.
“Find all the edges first,” one jigsaw expert suggested as he sorted through the pieces.
“And the corners,” another deacon advised.
“Look, here’s part of his nose.”
“Yeah, and here’s a piece of his tail. Put it over there.”
According to the box, the puzzle was designed for three- and four-year-old children. It only contained about 30 large pieces, so it wasn’t long before we had the whole thing finished. The only problem was that one large piece was missing, right in the middle.
“Way to go, Ryan,” someone protested. “You brought a defective puzzle!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ryan said, eyeing the finished product. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
“What are you talking about?” someone asked. “It looks dumb.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause it’s not all there!”
Ryan tried to look surprised. “Is that important?”
“Of course, it’s important! You can’t have a puzzle without all the pieces.”
Ryan grinned slyly: he had us right where he wanted us. He pointed toward the one empty chair in the room. “You might have noticed that Kevin hasn’t been to priesthood meeting for a while. So in a way, we’re just like this puzzle. We’re not complete. Without Kevin we’re not a whole quorum.”
Ryan had made his point. He’d taught his lesson so well that each of us understood it perfectly. And we spent the next several minutes discussing ways to bring Kevin back into the quorum.
You’ve probably had lessons on things like quorum unity before. So have I. But I’ve never seen anyone make the point quite as well as Ryan did. He focused our attention on the problem in a way that we all understood its significance.
Ryan’s lesson was effective because he didn’t just talk about quorums. He talked about our quorum. He didn’t simply talk about activating people. He talked about helping Kevin. Quorum unity was suddenly something each of us could relate to.
Ryan’s lesson is a good example. While we were busy working on the puzzle, we had no idea there was a point to what we were doing. But we were all involved; everyone was participating. And when the time came for Ryan to make his point we were more receptive to it.

As a young couple, Marion and Ida had endured great heartache. Their first two children died in infancy. But faith softened their sorrow—and a promise, given in a blessing when Marion became a General Authority, gave them reassurance: “Blessed are you because of your faith in my work. Behold, you have had many afflictions … nevertheless I will bless you and your family, yea, your little ones, and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in the Church.” (As quoted in Ensign, Nov. 1972, p. 27.)

The varsity volleyball team at Antioch (California) High School, shown here with their coach Lou Panzella, had reason to celebrate last season. Their season record of 36–2 won them their second consecutive section championship.

The seven LDS boys on the team also had another reason to be pleased. In addition to bringing their nonmember teammates to several church activities, they persuaded their coach (who isn’t a member of the Church) to allow them to come to their early-morning practice late so they could attend seminary each morning.

The coach has been so impressed by these young men that he recently made a special point of visiting Temple Square on a trip through Salt Lake City.

As Relief Society president of the Setubal Portugal District, Sister Teresa Pinto took seriously the idea that when we serve others, we serve the Lord himself. (See Mosiah 2:17; Matt. 25:44–45.) She began looking for a service project, and found her heart turning to those who are lonely in her community, those who rarely laugh. And she began to formulate a plan to lift the hearts of some of those people—especially those living in institutions.
The members of the Almada First, Costa da Caparica, and Setubal branches were excited by her plan. Every night for several weeks, young people and Relief Society sisters from those three branches met together to rehearse folk songs and dances, short theatrical plays, and poetry readings.
The group’s premiere performance was for fifty elderly people at a local nursing home. The group tried to show their joy in living the gospel through their enthusiastic performance. Toward the end of the show, tears were on many faces in the audience. And the performers felt the glow of sharing love and friendship with those in need. “I wouldn’t exchange this evening for the world,” said one youngster.
The joy of reaching beyond one’s own circle to those in need has been contagious in the Setubal District. A second project is already underway, with several other branches joining to prepare a show for an orphanage.

At times I have doubted, but thanks to the power of prayer and the power of the Holy Ghost, I have strengthened my testimony that we really are all children of God. Satan will work hard to get you to doubt your testimony. Pray with all your heart to overcome those thoughts and also to help you remember when He has helped you before. He is always there to listen and help.Saryn S., 17, Utah

I was 16 years old then. I had a girlfriend I loved very much, but she left me. That was hard for me. I suffered a lot for almost a year. Because of that experience, I wanted to understand where I came from, why I was on earth, what the purpose of life is, and what happens after death. I wanted to find the answer to these questions on my own. But after thinking about them a long time, I turned to God again and said to myself, “The Creator of life knows life better than I do. I should find answers from Him.”

After Utah finally became a state in 1896, anti-Mormon moods faded, except for occasional brief eruptions. During the beginnings of our century the United States generally ignored Mormons, or at best viewed us as curiosities. Then, as more and more Saints moved out from Utah and gained prominence in politics, business, and education, Mormonism was not just tolerated but came to be admired.
Representative of this better opinion are the views of Harvard rural sociologist Thomas Nixon Carver. While visiting general conference on April 6, 1922, to his surprise he was called to the stand to address the vast assembly. He responded by telling the Saints that he had studied many Mormon towns “and in the small communities, as well as the large, I have seen in operation the science and the art of community-building, which is nation-building in miniature, and everywhere it has my unbounded admiration.”
On another occasion he concluded: “I have never found more sound and wholesome personal habits than among the Mormons. I have never mingled with people who showed fewer signs of dissipation. I have never studied groups of people who seemed better nourished and more healthful. I have never known people who took more pains to educate there children. This gives a clue to the success of the Mormons as colonizers and nation builders.”9

We were assigned to a small branch of about sixty members, most of whom were inactive. On our first Sunday there, Ben and the branch president were the only two in priesthood meeting. Fourteen attended Sunday School and sacrament meeting. Nevertheless, it was a thrill to see my husband once again able to bless the sacrament and give an opening prayer.
We began our labors by seeking out all of the members the branch had records for and trying to stimulate a desire in them to become active. This was not easy. They were scattered in many directions living on country roads that had no identifying signs or names. Some of the members had been out of touch with the Church for many years. Each Sunday morning we watched anxiously for those we had contacted, but we were successful in getting only a few out.
The branch president was discouraged and recommended that the branch be closed. We knew that if this happened, all those who were inactive would be lost and the gospel would cease to be spread in that area. The bishop under whose direction the branch was operating called a meeting and announced that there were two alternatives: to close the branch, or to sustain Ben as branch president and give it another try. Ben was sustained and set apart.
This was a most humbling experience for us. With so many obstacles in the way, there was only one course to take: to rely completely on our Heavenly Father for help and guidance and work with all the strength we could muster. Night after night, Ben asked the Lord for strength, wisdom, and direction, often praying in the quiet chapel next to the two rooms where we lived and held classes on Sunday.
One night he came back from the chapel and said, “I think I have the answer. It is through the young people that the branch will grow.”

In preparation for a university class reunion eight years ago, attendees were invited to consider their thoughts on the topic of life after death. As I reflected on this topic, I felt impressed that I should share my sure and certain knowledge of Jesus Christ’s central role in God’s plan for His children.
Although surprised by my direct approach, a number of attendees shared with me that they appreciated the thoughts I shared. Some told me the message brought them feelings of hope and peace. I am including below what I shared with the hope that you too will be prompted to speak more of Jesus Christ, even when others around you seek to speak about Him less.

4. Another element that leads to success and happiness is to discover early inlife that those things of most importance in life you cannot buy for money. They are priceless. To illustrate, let me tell you about an elder from Austria whom I met at the Missionary Training Center.

I noticed that he seemed to be a little older than the average 19-year-old elder. He and his mother had joined the Church when he was 16. His father, who was a successful banker, was not interested in religion, but he did not care if his wife and son joined the Church.

This elder’s problems began occurring, however, when he would be studying his seminary materials. He would have his scriptures and papers out on his desk, and his father would come in and say something like: “Don’t waste your time studying those things. Get back into your regular school studies so that you can be admitted to the university.” At times, his father would become so upset he would pick up his son’s scriptures or papers and throw them across the room.

At age 18, this young man began thinking more about a mission. In fact, one night he even dreamed that he had been called on a mission to Japan. It was such a warm and good feeling; but when he talked to his parents about it, his father said, “Oh no. You are not going to waste two years of your life in the mission field. You must go to the university.” The father wanted the son to become a banker and follow in his footsteps.

Realizing that he had better do what his father wished at that point, he chose to go to the university. I am not sure he made his father totally happy because he chose to come to the United States and enroll at BYU. He went through his program in business, received his bachelor’s degree, and then received a master of business administration degree. He was soon hired as a junior executive in an international banking firm in Munich, Germany.

By this time he was 25, obviously old enough to make his own decisions. He still had a great desire to serve a mission. He went to his stake president and informed him of his desires. He even told him of his dream. The stake president laughed and said, “Well, I don’t think you will be called to Japan. Nobody is called to Japan from here. They may be called to other countries in Europe, but not to Japan.”

His father was very upset when he learned his son was thinking of leaving his position at the bank for two years. He came over from Vienna and did everything he could to convince his son not to go. His boss flew down from Frankfurt, Germany, and spent time with him, attempting to convince him that he should not leave his work for two years.

“My boy,” he said, “do you realize what this will cost you professionally in terms of salary loss as well as opportunity loss? Sit down and calculate what these two years will cost you.” The young elder did, and found that the mission would cost him a great sum of money.

But tears came to his eyes when he told me, “If it would have cost several times that amount, I would still be here, because I know this is where the Lord wants me to be.”

Well, he was called to Japan. He served a very successful mission, and I suppose there are many international banking firms that would be pleased to hire a well-trained junior executive who speaks German, English, and Japanese—the three major languages of the economic free world. But even if he didn’t earn an extra dime as the result of this additional experience, it still would have been worth it. If you want to be happy and successful, you will come to a realization that there are some values in life you cannot purchase with money.

Mary opened her heart to me, sharing how the Church’s full name has blessed her in teaching her children: “My children have less confusion now when I teach them that we are Saints of the Church of Jesus Christ in these latter days versus referring to ourselves as ‘Mormons.’ They used to be confused and ask, ‘Why Mormon? Does that mean we aren’t Christians?’ I feel that this change has helped them when speaking to other children at school who are not believers.”