Gospel Story Finder

Today is the 47th anniversary day of my baptism in 1962. One small high school boy was introduced to the Church by his classmate. I did not know much about the gospel and church when I was baptized but I developed the testimony and faith in Jesus Christ and became to like the Gospel. I have been blessed in so many ways except for my physical height. It was not a problem at all because still I was able to marry a beautiful woman who is taller than me and now my wife. I love this gospel because it always gives me hope and helps me get the positive thinking and attitude. I always try to serve “with an eye single to the glory of God.” I like this scripture, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.” And I testify that this is a true word of God.

This is illustrated by a news commentary, the author of which is Michael Josephson. Mr. Josephson said:
Though I get special pleasure out of hosting Thanksgiving dinner for my large extended family, the real burden of the holiday falls on the lovely shoulders of my wife, Anne. She's the one who deals with tenting the yard and organizing the feast including three turkeys and a symphony of side dishes. And she does all this while juggling our four young children, a big dog and two new puppies. So you can understand if her enthusiasm for the holiday is more muted.
There was a time when I thought she was going to resign. It was a week after she planned and hosted a business reception at our home for nearly 100 people and she was weary. She told me how she had come to dread the pressure and work of Thanksgiving. Then, just as I was bracing myself to hear her renounce the job, she completely surprised me by changing direction. 'This year,' she said, 'I have a whole new feeling toward the holiday. I've been thinking about it a lot and I've decided to be grateful rather than resentful.' Then she told me how lucky we are to have such a large and close family and the space and resources to provide Thanksgivings that our children will always remember.
Can you see why I love her so much? She has taught me that gratitude is not always a spontaneous emotion; often, it's a matter of choice. It's a perspective of appreciation that doesn't necessarily make life easier, but it always makes it better.

I was with Elder Mark E. Petersen in the Holy Land in October 1983, during his last mortal journey. Elder Petersen was not well. Evidences of his consuming malignancy were so painfully real to him, yet he derived strength from the Savior he served. Following a night of intense suffering, aggravated by pangs of his progressive inability to eat or to drink, Elder Petersen addressed throngs assembled at the Mount of Beatitudes to hear his discourse on the “Sermon on the Mount.” After he recited “Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness,” he departed from the biblical text and pleaded this question: “Do you know what it is to be really hungry? Do you know what it is to really be thirsty? Do you desire righteousness as you would desire food or drink under extreme conditions? [The Savior] expects us to literally hunger and thirst after righteousness and seek it with all our hearts!”

I was one of the few present on that occasion who knew how hungry and thirsty Elder Petersen really was. His encroaching cancer had deprived him of relief from physical hunger and thirst. So he understood that doctrine. He withstood the trial. He thanked the Lord who lent him power to preach his last major sermon at the sacred site where his Lord Jesus had preached.

Counsel was given by another prophet who said, “Feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted” (2 Nephi 9:51). Nephi added: “If ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end. . . : Ye shall have eternal life” (2 Nephi 31:20). Even though Elder Petersen was deprived of full physical feeding, he continued to feast upon the words of his Savior. He endured to the end, and I know he earned that promised reward.

A Mia Maid in the Philippines expressed the same thought like this:
“I used to ask myself, ‘Am I one of the chosen daughters of our Heavenly Father?’ and ‘Did God create all people?’ These questions prompted me to read the scriptures with the hope of receiving immediate answers. But the answers took long in coming. I became involved in the Young Women organization, and through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I developed a strong faith that I am indeed a daughter of God, who created all of us.”

Thirteen-year-old Florence Onyejekwe reached her usual spot in the crowded outdoor market in Onitsha, Nigeria. The street was packed with sellers calling out to busy shoppers. Women balanced bundles on their heads as they walked. School had just ended for the holiday, and Florence knew her friends were enjoying the break from class. But Florence spent her holidays selling bitterleaf here at the market. It was her only chance to earn money for her school fees.
Florence did not complain, though. After all, her mother spent long hours at the market every day selling yams to buy food for the family. Mama worked so hard. Her parents both did. But without much education, there was only so much they could do. Florence was almost finished with primary school. Perhaps if she could continue her schooling, she could get a good-paying job and help her family.
When she returned home, Florence found her parents and asked, “Do you think I could go to secondary school? And maybe university?”
Mama looked at Nnam (dad) and shook her head. “University costs so much more than we have,” said Nnam. Florence looked down at her shoes. She didn’t want Mama and Nnam to see how disappointed she was.
A few days later, Florence stopped at the hospital to pick up some medicine. The hospital was almost as busy as the market, though not as loud. Florence stared at the nurses in their crisp, white caps. She pictured herself in a uniform like that, helping the sick and taking care of babies in a big hospital. Perhaps she could become a nurse.
Florence knew her parents were right—getting an education would be hard. But Florence knew how to work hard. She decided to try.
No matter how many chores filled her day, Florence made time to study. She passed the tests for secondary school, and Nnam borrowed enough money for her to go. Later she found out that the government would help pay for nursing school. Her dream was within reach!
But when it came time to begin nursing school, Florence felt a little doubt. What if it was too hard? What if she was lonely? Florence bowed her head and prayed, “Dear God, please give me the strength to go to nursing school and work hard.”
At nursing school, Florence learned how to give medicine and keep tools clean from germs. Sometimes her patients got better, but sometimes they didn’t. Florence prayed often for courage. After three long years, Florence graduated with the award for best student in her class. Her dream had come true! She got to wear the white nurse’s cap, and she was able to earn enough to help her family.
Many years later, Florence visited a small branch in the Ghana Accra Mission. Her husband, Christopher Chukwurah, was the mission president there. Florence met some children in the branch who couldn’t always go to school. They weren’t sure what to do with their futures. They reminded Florence of herself as a child. “What can I say to help them?” Florence prayed silently.
Then she felt a clear prompting: Tell them about your life.
Florence thought about her life. She had worked in hospitals in Nigeria and the United States. She had married a good man, and together they had found The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She had become a mother. Now she was helping missionaries stay healthy and work hard. Heavenly Father had helped her become a nurse. He had helped her do so much more than she had imagined. He could do the same for these children.
Florence looked at the children and smiled. “You know those white caps that nurses wear? I saw a cap like that and decided to become a nurse …”

My brother and I have always been best friends. One day when I was four and Ammon was three, we were at the playland of a restaurant close to our house. I skinned my knees pretty badly. They were still hurting a lot when our family came home, and I started to cry.
Ammon held my hand and prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, please bless Kyli that her knees won’t hurt. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” I stopped crying right away. Within an hour, my knees had scabbed over. By the next day, they were almost completely healed, and they never bothered me again.
Kylian and Ammon Saylor, ages 5 and 4Warsaw, Indiana

Then one day in the spring, we found Bimbo stretched out in the backyard as though he were dead. Does he have scarlet fever? I wondered. On the way to see the veterinarian, I remember praying as hard as I could that Bimbo wouldn’t die. The veterinarian told us our dog had been poisoned and would have to stay in the hospital for several days. Later when we took Bimbo home, we gave him love and attention and continued to pray for him. Our prayers were answered and he did recover.

My name is Hailey Achter. I’m eight years old, and I live in Layton, Utah. When I was baptized by my dad and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt happy and clean. I knew I was doing what Heavenly Father and Jesus wanted me to do. So I knew it was wrong a few days later when I looked at my friend’s paper.
We had been doing a worksheet that was very hard. I had figured out most of the questions but found some that I didn’t know the answers to. My friend was sitting close by, and her answers were in plain view, so I quickly wrote the ones I needed on my paper.
Then the bad feelings began. I knew what I had done wasn’t what Jesus would have wanted me to do. The bad feeling lasted until I got home. I decided to tell my mom and dad. They were sad at what I’d done but proud that I had told them. We all talked about it for a long time. Dad talked to me about the steps of repentance; then Mom said I should probably tell Mrs. Taylor, my teacher. I cried. I loved Mrs. Taylor and didn’t want her to think I was bad.
Dad told me he was sure that Mrs. Taylor would be as proud of me as they were. I was not so sure, but we decided that I would talk to her the next morning and that Mom would go with me.
It was a long night.
The next morning I was really scared, so as we were driving to school, I said a prayer. It was a long walk to my third grade classroom. I was glad Mom was there. We met Mrs. Taylor in the hall, and Mom told her that I needed to talk to her alone. I told her what I’d done.
She put her arms around me and gave me a big hug. “Hailey,” she said, “I’m sorry that you did that, but I’m proud of you for telling me!” She hugged me again. “I’ll give you another paper to work on to make up for your mistake. I’m so glad you came to me, Hailey! You are a special girl!”
Wow! I felt so much better! I loved Mrs. Taylor, and she still loved me, even though I’d made a mistake. I finished the paper she gave me then and had a really good feeling inside again.
I’m glad I have the Holy Ghost. I know He helps me do the things Jesus Christ would want me to do. I hope I can always listen to Him and do what I should. This feeling is much better than the other one!

One Sunday I noticed a little girl my age in sacrament meeting. She was new and seemed scared to go to Primary. I decided to ask her to come with me to Primary and be my friend. After church the little girl’s aunt told my parents that her niece was so happy to go to Primary with her new friend. I tried to be like Jesus by being a good friend and helping someone in need.
Reagan V., age 5, Colorado, USA

“I used to do the right things out of habit,” says Raquel Alonzo, 17. “I was raised in the Church, and because I had been taught to choose the right, I did. But I didn’t really feel it in my heart. One day while talking to my mom, I truly felt the Lord’s Spirit.” Her mother told her about huge sacrifices she had made as a young woman to be faithful to the gospel and to serve a mission, even though she was going against her father’s wishes. “She said the only reason she is so happy now is that she was smart enough to cling to the Savior throughout her life. At that moment, my testimony grew more than ever. I am a child of God, and Heavenly Father loves me. Even if the world falls in on me, He is going to help me.”

In 1959, I turned 8 and wanted to be baptised, but my father would not give his permission. I continued to attend Primary with all my Church friends, then at age 12 I started to attend MIA (which stood for Mutual Improvement Association) as it was then called. My friends obtained the Aaronic Priesthood and progressed from deacon to teacher to priest.
In those days, we met in a big house, and as members we were asked to raise money towards the building of a meetinghouse, and to also to work so many hours on the construction of the meetinghouse. Once I turned 15 and about to leave school, I decided to go on a building mission on the Worcester meetinghouse, as a site had been found. My parents were divorced by that point, and my mother kept me and gave me ten shillings a week pocket money. Whilst building the meetinghouse, I turned 16 and my father told me, “If you still want to join those Mormons go ahead.”
I told our then-branch president, President Smart, that my father had given permission for me to be baptised but that I had decided that as “I’ve waited this long, I’ll wait a little longer if I can be the first to be baptised in the new chapel.”
On March 10, 1968, the chapel was dedicated by President Cullimore. On the following day, Monday 11 March, I was the first person to be baptised in the Worcester meetinghouse, by Brother Ken Chapman. Followed by four others also getting baptised, I was then confirmed a member of the Church by Brother Des Gorman, who was the building supervisor in charge of the construction.

One day when I was a freshman in high school, a person who is not a member of our Church visited our seminary class during a lesson on Joseph Smith and the First Vision. To close the lesson, our seminary teacher bore powerful witness that through Joseph Smith the Lord restored the true Church of Jesus Christ. He then asked if anyone else could add a second witness. With a nonmember present, I knew this would be a perfect time to bear my testimony. I stared down at my desk, waiting for some sign or feeling to prompt me to testify or share my thoughts. Yet, to my surprise, the opposite happened. I realized that although I knew what words I would say if asked, they didn’t yet mean anything to me personally. I’d learned about the First Vision ever since I was a child, yet now the real test had come and I didn’t know if any of it is true. After two long, silent minutes, the bell rang and our discouraged seminary teacher dismissed us.
Before heading home, I sat alone on the steps in front of the seminary building and pondered what had happened. I felt like I had failed in some way, and I knew I needed to know for myself. So I prayed and then asked myself: “Do I know that Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and restored the true Church?”
Remarkably, the answer came instantly and powerfully. Yes. My prior discouragement was completely gone as the Spirit testified to me of the truthfulness of the Restoration. The more I pondered about what I believed, the stronger I felt that the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored. Right then I resolved to bear my testimony of the First Vision when future opportunities arose.
A while later I was sitting in seminary when the same teacher again bore his testimony of the First Vision. He again asked if anyone would bear a second witness. I was instantly reminded of the resolution I had made after the previous experience, and my heart leaped at this second chance. I was grateful that my previous inability to bear my testimony had motivated me to learn for myself that Joseph Smith did indeed see Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and was instrumental in restoring the true Church. I was filled with joy and did not hesitate to stand and proudly bear my testimony of the First Vision, because I had learned for myself.

I shall always remember how the precepts of the gospel of Jesus Christ dramatically changed my life. Although my parents were not active in the Church, I always was inspired by the law of tithing. It was a great honor as a young boy to make an appointment with my bishop to pay 50 cents or $1 or $2 tithing—earnings from delivering newspapers, mowing lawns, or cleaning out grocery stores. Little did I know that this simple habit would affect my life’s work.

In 1970, at the age of 32, I was appointed by the president of the United States to oversee the Welfare, Social Services, and Medicaid Program for the entire United States. It was an enormous task for a young man, but I thrived on my new appointment in Washington, D.C., as part of the presidential administration. Several months into that appointment, I received a call from the White House chief of staff, who asked me if I would immediately come to a meeting in his West Wing office. Nervously, I was interviewed for the next two days to determine if I was the proper candidate to become special assistant to the president of the United States and also serve as White House staff secretary. I had to pinch myself several times to realize that here I was, a young man born and raised in southern Idaho, now one of 14 candidates to possibly become one of the president’s right-hand men.

Near the end of the second day, the White House chief of staff looked me squarely in the eyes and asked a most improbable and unexpected question. He asked, “Are you a full-tithe payer in your church?” Yes, he injected the word full.

Without hesitation I said, “Yes, sir, I am. I always have been. It is an honor for me to pay a full tithing to my church.”

He said, “No one here in the White House is a member of your faith, but I know enough about your religion to know if you are a full-tithe payer, you are a person of integrity. Thus I am recommending you to the president to become his next assistant.”

The very next day I moved my offices into the White House. It was a humbling but joyful experience to know that the result of honoring the priesthood and paying a full tithing not only brings the joys of heaven but also, at times like this, can bring the honors of men.

Beyond their example of faith, and perhaps not seen at the time, they taught a lesson in courage and confidence. They took time from their studies to serve the Lord, believing that the Lord would somehow compensate and multiply their power to learn.

I know for myself that they were inspired to trust the Lord. When I was a student in my twenties, I was asked to be the first counselor in the Boston District in Massachusetts. It required traveling across New England every weekend when the other students were studying. My roommates couldn’t believe that I would be so foolish.

I did the same thing when I was a teacher at Stanford University where I served for three years as a bishop. The other professors thought that I was unwise. But trusting in the Lord, I found what you will find. Wherever you go and whatever work you do, all sacrifice is for Him.

Following Joseph’s death, the Saints were driven from their homes to become exiles—almost refugees—stripped of almost all they had. But under the leadership of the Lord, and with the testimonies of the Spirit burning deep in their hearts, they crossed the almost trackless plains to a desert place no one else would have—there to do their part in the Lord’s strange act, to set up a kingdom where the principles of his gospel could have place in the lives of men and women until his Church could become strong enough to do its part in his strange act.

Bright and early on the last day of camp, about 30 young men chose to compete in the “Iron Warrior Competition.” Participants swam one mile in Lake Allatoona and then ran two miles through the woods. Like other activities at camp, this one could be used to fulfill both Scouting and Duty to God requirements.
At the beginning of the year the boys received the challenge to read the Book of Mormon. If a young man completed both the Iron Warrior Competition and read the entire Book of Mormon by the end of Scout camp, he received the Captain Moroni award—a five-foot high metal sculpture of a man in armor. “It was taller than I am!” says Max Carter, a deacon from the Mars Hill Ward who earned the Captain Moroni award. “The Iron Warrior Competition was hard. I was just happy to accomplish it.”

Hernando yawned as he leaned forward sleepily, pulled his sock over his bare foot, and wiggled his foot into his tennis shoe.
His mother stirred the oatmeal one more time, then tapped the spoon against the rim of the pan and turned off the burner. “Is Inez up?” she asked as Hernando entered the kitchen.
Hernando yawned again. “She’s still in the bathroom.”
“Inez,” Mother called, “breakfast is ready.” Placing a saucer over the top of the steaming pan of oatmeal, she sat down at the table.
Inez breezed into the kitchen and slid onto her chair. “Morning,” she greeted.
“Morning,” Mother and Hernando both answered.
Mother smiled lovingly at Hernando and Inez before bowing her head. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “we thank thee for another day and for all the blessings it will bring. We thank thee for this good food and ask …”
When Mother’s humble prayer was ended, Hernando opened his eyes and reached for the Bible on the stand behind him. He opened it to the bookmark and began to read from 1 Timothy 6:6 [1 Tim. 6:6], “But godliness with contentment is great gain.
“For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.”
He began to close the book, but his mother frowned. “Was that three verses?” she asked doubtfully.
“Sorry,” he muttered, finding the place again and reading, “‘And having food and raiment [clothing] let us be therewith content.’ That’s three verses,” he said.
Mother nodded once then got up and served the oatmeal and passed the milk.
“Oatmeal again?” Inez complained. “Why can’t we ever have eggs?”
“Be content with what you have,” Mother told her, looking a bit hurt. “There’s a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, and food in our stomachs. We do have eggs on Sunday,” Mother reminded her, “and there are cheese sandwiches for your lunch today.”
Hernando glanced up. “Is there any fruit?” he asked hopefully. When Mother shook her head, he just shrugged to show her that he wasn’t complaining.
Hernando stacked the newspapers neatly at the corner where he worked each day. He glanced to where a bus was pulling up to the curb. As a stream of early commuters streamed sleepily from the door, he rushed forward with a number of papers under his arm. “Paper! First edition!” he cried out, waving one in the air.
A gray-haired man reached into his pocket for change, handed it to Hernando, and took a paper. “Thank you!” Hernando said, then turned to yell again, “Paper! First edition!” until the sidewalk was empty. He sat on the remaining papers and pulled his collar up against the morning’s dark chill.
“Hernie,” his buddy Tyler shouted excitedly from his shoeshine stand down the street, “Margaret’s giving money away again! She must have gotten her welfare check yesterday or something! Come on! She’s right around the corner at the bus depot.”
Hernando frowned. “Someone should stop her, but I can’t leave my papers!”
“I left my stand! Come on!” Tyler hissed. “We have to get in on this!”
Hernando glanced along the deserted sidewalk, then followed Tyler to the corner. When they got there, a police officer was gently leading Margaret to a patrol car.
“Too late!” Tyler groaned. “They’re taking her home again.”
Hernando smiled. “That’s good.”
“What’s good about it?” Tyler barked. “I got a dollar last time. What’s the matter with you—don’t you like money?”
Hernando grinned. “Sure! But not enough to take it from a confused old lady! You shouldn’t accept money from her, either.”
“You’re the one who’s confused! Your mom cleans offices, your sister works in a bakery, and you sell newspapers! Are you too good to take money from heaven?”
Hernando grinned. “If it were from heaven, I’d take it.” Hearing the screech of air brakes, Hernando knew that another bus was arriving, so he hurried back to his stand. Grabbing another stack of papers, he called, “Paper! First edition!”
Later Hernando hurried along Twentieth Street. He pushed the door of an office building open and took the steps two at a time. In Dr. Daily’s office his mother was singing at her work. When she saw Hernando, she smiled and shut off the vacuum cleaner. “All done?” she asked.
Nodding, he handed her his tip money. “I’ll go home for my books and lunch, then be off to school.”
She counted the change that he had given her. “Please stop at Myerling’s and get milk,” she said as she pressed the money into his hand. “Make sure it’s fresh, and don’t forget to close the refrigerator tightly. Be good, and have a nice day.”
He kissed her, then went back outside and down the street.
At the store, Hernando checked the date on the milk before taking it to the counter. As he waited to pay for it, his hand brushed a basket of pears. His mouth suddenly watered. He thought of how long it had been since he’d had one. He looked at Mr. Myerling, who was busy bagging groceries and talking to an early customer. Behind the meat counter, Mrs. Myerling was grinding meat with her back turned. How easy it would be to slip a pear into my pocket! he thought. How good it would taste … Then his mother’s words came to his mind: “Be good.” Swallowing hard, he turned his back on the basket of pears.
When the other customer finally left, Mr. Myerling turned to Hernando.
“Morning, Hernie,” he said. “I didn’t know if you’d stop by this morning, but I’ve been hoping you would.”
“You have?”
“I have some things for your mother,” Mr. Myerling explained. He put the milk into a sack behind the counter. “This bag of sugar split, but I taped it shut. And the labels on these cans are coming off from being on the shelf for a while, but I’m sure the food inside is still good. As for the fruit, it has some bruises, but it’s still good for fruit salad or for baking. Just be sure to put it into the refrigerator for your mother.”
Hernando’s face brightened as he took the sack of groceries. “Thanks, Mr. Myerling!”
“I’m glad you can use it.”
As Hernando entered the apartment building and climbed the stairs, his heart was singing. We might not have much, Hernando prayed silently, but what You give is always enough. Thank you, Father, for always providing.

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

The young soldier stood at attention before the court.
“William Scott, you have been found guilty,” the judge said in a firm voice. “You will be shot by a firing squad within twenty-four hours!”
William’s heart was heavy with fear. He was only twenty-two and had joined the Union Army a few months earlier to fight for his country.
Two nights before, one of William’s comrades had been too sick to do guard duty so William had taken his place. Then the very next night William found himself assigned to guard duty.
The young soldier doubted he could stay awake, and so he went to the captain and told him of his fear. “I’m afraid I can’t keep awake on guard duty a second night,” William explained. “Could you find a replacement for me?”
The captain was busy, and without really listening he brushed aside the boy’s request.
That night William reported for guard duty, and only a few hours later he was found asleep at his post. Now he was to be shot as a traitor!
As the captain heard the judge pronounce sentence on the young soldier, he stepped forward and pled with the judge. “If anyone ought to be shot,” he said, “then I should be the one. Please save William’s life.”
The sorrow and concern of the captain and the other men of William’s regiment for their comrade’s life touched the heart of the judge. He thought about the matter for a few minutes, and then he turned to the captain and said softly, “There is only one man who can save your friend. Come, we will go to President Lincoln.”
A short time later the judge and captain arrived at the White House. Although the president was very busy, he took time to listen quietly to the story the two men told. When they finished, he said, “It would be a sad thing for a young man like William Scott to die like this.”
President Lincoln’s voice was full of compassion as he promised, “I will look into the matter myself this very day.”
That afternoon the president went to the guardhouse of the army camp. He talked with William about his friends back home, his school, and especially about his mother.
“William, you should be thankful that your mother still lives,” President Lincoln said gently. “If I were in your place, I would try to make her a proud mother and never cause her any sorrow.”
William listened patiently and then he asked the president a question that had been troubling him. “Would it be possible not to appoint any men from my own regiment to the firing squad?” he asked. “The hardest thing of all would be to die by the hands of my friends.”
“My boy,” said President Lincoln, “you are not going to be shot tomorrow. I am going to trust you to go back to your regiment. Your country has great need of men like you.”
For a moment William could not believe what he had heard, but when he looked into President Lincoln’s loving eyes, he knew the words were true. “How can I ever repay you, sir?” he asked in a voice that trembled because of the big lump in his throat.
President Lincoln put his hands on the young boy’s shoulders. “My boy,” he said, “my bill is a very large one. No money can pay it and no friends can help you. There is only one person in all the world who can pay your debt, and his name is William Scott. If you will fight bravely and do your duty as a soldier, then the debt will be paid. Will you make that promise?”
William promised he would do as the president asked. Then with tear-filled eyes, William vowed to himself that with God’s help he would keep the solemn promise he made that day to President Abraham Lincoln.
And he did!

As Eduardo’s and María’s gospel knowledge grew, so did their testimonies. When their son Osvaldo died following a traffic accident in 2001, their testimonies—coupled with powerful spiritual experiences during prayer and in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, where they and Osvaldo had been sealed—helped them deal with their loss.
“Perhaps some parents would have gone crazy,” Eduardo says, “but we felt a calmness that said, ‘Your son is well.’ Of course we wept. He was a good son, and we miss him. But we have been sealed in the temple, and we know where he is.”