Gospel Story Finder

“Do you know where I met Martin?” she asked them, coming to the kitchen entrance to talk. “At the five and ten store in Missoula. I was only 18 then. He was home from the army on a 30-day leave. It was a couple of days before Valentine Day, and I was working at the jewelry counter. After about a half an hour, he finally picked out something. He thrust it into my hand, paid for it, and asked if I’d gift wrap it. Well I did, but when I gave it to him, he just looked down, shook his head, gave it back, and mumbled, ‘It’s for you.’ And that was the beginning. Since he was going overseas in just a few weeks, we ended up getting married before he left.”
They listened to the records while they ate their snack.
“When Martin came back from the war, he worked at various jobs for a few years, and then we got a chance to get this place. It had belonged to his father. We’ve been here ever since.”
After the last record on the stack had played, she showed them the necklace. It was a tiny chain with a small silver heart in the middle. “I think it cost all of two dollars. Oh, there’s an inscription on the back. Can you still read it?”
“It says, ‘Love is forever.’” Cathy slowly read the worn inscription.
“I haven’t thought about that necklace for years.”

Foni P. grew up in a single-parent home. During her childhood and teenage years, Foni watched her mom struggle to raise three kids alone. As a result, Foni developed negative feelings toward her father. Then recently, after she turned 19, her father started reaching out to try and connect.
“I was upset,” Foni says. “My thinking was, ‘He had 19 years to enter my life but didn’t. Why now?’” Even though she prayed and pondered, Foni still couldn’t find peace. Talking with her mom and aunt helped a little, but it still left her feeling tied in knots. Then something incredible (but simple) happened: Foni’s best friend invited her out for ice cream and shopping.
“A lot of people would look at that and think it wasn’t a big deal,” Foni says, “but it meant so much! I felt the sun on my skin. We were walking outside, and I saw the trees. I felt the wind, and I felt the Spirit at the same time. It was amazing.”
Did this impromptu shopping trip solve Foni’s problems? Well, no. Foni admits that her relationship with her father is still challenging. But that simple act of kindness from her friend allowed Foni to feel the Holy Ghost again. She could then better face her struggles with extra strength. “I know she was prompted by the Holy Ghost to take me out of the house,” Foni shares.

My parents, Aparecido and Mercedes Soares, always dreamed of serving a mission. They wanted to repay the Lord for the many blessings that had come to their family since they had joined the Church. Their opportunity came in 1989 when they accepted a call to serve in the São Paulo Brazil Temple.
Only a few months into their mission, however, my father suffered a heart attack and passed away. During his funeral, I embraced my mother as we stood before my father’s casket.
“Mom, what’s next for you?” I asked.
“Your father and I dreamed of this mission,” she replied. “I am serving right now, and I will continue to serve—for him and for me.”
A kind temple president assigned another widow to serve as my mother’s companion, and my mother continued her mission for more than 20 months. Her missionary service blessed her, and her faith and example blessed my family and me.
During her mission, two of my brothers also passed away, and my wife and I lost two children. The first was born premature and did not survive, and we lost the second to miscarriage. During that trying time for our family, my mother was there in the temple every day reaffirming her faith—and strengthening ours—in the plan of salvation.
Her faith in a glorious reunion with my father and the promise of eternal life in the presence of our Heavenly Father sustained her for 29 years as a widow until the end of her days, at the age of 94.

This story happened in Germany.
Emma put the last sleeping bag into the camper van. Her family was driving to Italy for a holiday weekend. They were all so excited!
She got into her seat with a blanket and some snacks. Her brother, Max, sat next to her.
“Everyone ready?” Dad asked.
“Yes!” Emma and Max said.
They drove past buildings and trees. The roads were very busy. After a few hours, it was so crowded that all the cars stopped.
Emma looked out the window at the people in the cars next to them. Some looked bored. Others looked upset.
A man behind them got out of his car. He walked over and knocked on Dad’s window.
Dad rolled down his window. “Hi. Can I help you?”
The man pointed to their van. “One of your tires is flat.”
“Oh no!” Dad said. He got out to look and talk to the man.
Dad got back in the van. “We have two choices. We can stop at the next rest area. Or we can drive carefully to the closest camper site. Let’s pray about it.”
Mom said the prayer. She asked Heavenly Father to help them know what they should do.
They were all quiet. Emma listened closely to hear the Holy Ghost. “I think we should drive to the campsite,” she said.
“Me too,” said Dad.
When they got there, Mom and Dad called someone for help. A few hours later, a worker came to look at the tire.
“It’ll be hard to find a tire that fits,” he said. “We’ll order a new one, but all the shops are closed for the holiday. We can’t get the tire until Tuesday.”
Emma frowned. Tuesday was far away—and what if the tire was late? She was excited to go to Italy. But now they might not get there!
“Let’s pray again,” Emma said.
“Great idea,” Mom said. “Just remember that even if we’re not blessed with a tire, Heavenly Father always hears our prayers. We can still have a great trip.”
Emma nodded. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “thank Thee for keeping us safe on our trip. If possible, please help us find the right tire for our camper.”
The next morning, the worker came back. He was rolling a big tire toward them.
“Looks like we’ll make it to Italy after all!” Dad said. Emma and Max cheered.
“How did you find a new tire so fast?” Max asked the worker.
“I asked some other people here if they had a spare tire that would fit,” the worker said. “And someone did!”
The worker put the new tire on. They were ready to go! Emma said a silent prayer of thanks. Their family trip hadn’t gone the way they planned, but Heavenly Father had heard their prayers.
How did Heavenly Father answer Emma’s prayer?
Illustrations by Greg Paprocki

I love how President N. Eldon Tanner’s father taught him during family prayer. President Tanner said this:

“I remember one evening when we were kneeling in family prayer, my father said to the Lord, ‘Eldon did something today he shouldn’t have done; he’s sorry, and if you will forgive him, he won’t do it anymore.’

“That made me determined not to do it anymore—much more than a trouncing would have done.”7

Elder Hugo Montoya was understandably overwhelmed when he was called to the First Quorum of the Seventy. He found comfort in President Thomas S. Monson’s gentle words during a training meeting for new General Authorities: “You are here because you love the Savior.” Elder Montoya felt uplifted, knowing his new calling placed him on the Lord’s errand.
“I love the Savior, and I will go wherever I am asked to go,” he said. “I will do whatever I am asked to do. I will say whatever I am asked to say.” Elder Montoya was sustained during the Saturday afternoon session of the Church’s 185th Annual General Conference.

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.

After a long day of driving my bus in Victoria, Australia, I was making my last trip of the evening, heading home. On the way I saw two well-dressed young men walking. I decided to stop the bus and ask them if they needed a lift.
I asked them why they wore name tags, white shirts, and ties. One of them explained that they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As I asked questions about their work, I felt something fill the bus that I later realized was the Holy Spirit. When I asked them to tell me more about Jesus Christ, I couldn’t help but become excited by their answers.
Unfortunately it was getting late, so I dropped off the missionaries in Dandenong. Afterward, I was sad when I realized that I did not get their phone number. For weeks I prayed that I could meet them again. As I drove my bus route, I even looked for them. Months went by, and then an unbelievable thing happened on my birthday, August 19, 2002.
As I was eating lunch with my wife, Camelia, a knock came at the door. When she answered it, I heard familiar voices. It was the missionaries I had met on the bus! They were just as surprised to see me as I was to see them. They had been tracting on our street and were led to our house. My prayers had been answered.
Elders Jason Frandsen and James Thieler immediately began teaching us. The Book of Mormon and the Prophet Joseph Smith were new to us, but we easily understood the gospel because we had a Christian background. The missionaries asked us to pray about and ponder what we were learning. As we did so, we felt the Spirit, a desire to attend church, and a prompting to be baptized. We have been blessed ever since.
Today, several years later, I still drive a bus, and I still give rides to missionaries. But now I help them carry out missionary work by introducing people to them and by sharing the Book of Mormon and other Church materials with my passengers.
People on my bus can’t help but notice how happy I am. When they ask why, I simply say, “The Lord has done this for me. He can change your life too.”

“What color was the sky today, Benjy?”
Benjy picked up his pewter supper plate and took it into the dark little bedroom where his twin sister, Betsy, lay ill. She and their mother had eaten earlier, but she liked to have Benjy sit near as he ate.
“Why, uh, blue, I guess. Isn’t the sky always blue?”
“Oh, no, Benjy! It can be almost white, or nearly black or gray. And there are so many different blues. Was it blue-blue all over, or sort of white-blue, like it can be when there are lots and lots of high thin clouds? Or was it an angry blue—very dark, as though a storm might be coming? What color was it, Benjy?”
Benjy hadn’t left the glassworks, where he had been apprenticed to Mr. Gibson for all of his three years in Boston, until almost dusk. He had made deliveries along the way—one square pane of glass to Mr. Edmund Litton, and two roundels for Mr. Alexander Greene. But Benjy had had his mind on not breaking the precious glass and had not noticed the sky.
“I’m sorry, Betsy,” he said. “When I went on errands today, I guess I had my mind on other things. Did you know that Mr. Trenton will return in two weeks? That means there will be another month or two of school. I was so pleased to hear that news that I guess I just didn’t notice the sky.”
Benjy hated to disappoint her. Sometimes he forgot how long the days were for a twelve-year-old who had to spend most of them in bed. Dr. Bryant said that the weakness in her heart came as a result of the high fever she had last winter. He hoped that with plenty of good food and rest, the time would come when she could again run and play as other children did, without pain or shortness of breath.
The heavy piece of waxed paper in the cabin window made the bedroom dark, even at midday. Someway, somehow, Benjy had to get a pane of glass for Betsy’s window.
Mother did fine sewing for ladies who lived in the big houses high up on King’s Row. She worked hard but made only enough for food and other necessities for the three of them. She heard Betsy’s question now and came to Benjy’s aid. “The sky was blue-blue, Betsy—just like your very own eyes, not greenish-blue, like Benjy’s. And the sunlight? It was every bit as warm as your smile. Today was what your father used to call a ‘Betsy Day’ because it was just like you. Remember?”
Betsy laughed, delighted. “A Betsy Day! I haven’t heard those words in so long, not since Papa …” She stopped and her face clouded, remembering that great storm at sea three years before, after which neither her father nor his boat had been found.
A good friend to the family, Mr. Gibson had taken Benjy on right away as an apprentice. “You are a bit lacking in years, lad, and ordinarily I wouldn’t have one so young around the molten glass. But I have confidence in you, and if you mind instruction, we should get along. Now find your tongue, lad. Be you willing to do what is to be done, rather than what you might be wanting to do?”
“Oh, yes! Yes, indeed, Mr. Gibson! Then, when I have a trade, I will be able to help my mother—”
Mr. Gibson had interrupted. “Now, understand from the first, lad. There is no pay until you have finished your apprenticeship. That won’t be the day after tomorrow. Seven years it is, lad. But you’ll be getting an early start, and after those seven years, well, we’ll have a place for you in the Gibson Glassworks. Or, who knows, perhaps you’ll set up your own business. Glass is here to stay, and people will always be wanting to have windows in their houses. So it’s a good chance I’m offering you, lad—but best know from the beginning that it won’t be easy.”
Mr. Gibson had been right. It had not been easy. Benjy began by working next to the great brick oven in the center of the furnace room, sweeping up the fine white sand and lime and soda ash that spilled from the shovels. Later he began shoveling the ingredients into the big pot himself. And later yet, Mr. Gibson entrusted him to deliver some of the smaller panes to the buyers.
But Benjy was still anxiously awaiting the day when Mr. Gibson would think him ready to blow the glass himself—to dip the end of the long blowpipe into a glowing, orange-red mass and see the magic of the expanding glass as he blew.
Benjy felt confident that he could do it. He had seen his master and Rolf, who also worked with him, do it many times. So though he had kept his promise to Mr. Gibson, his eagerness grew to try his hand at blowing the glass. He wanted to make a windowpane for Betsy, although he didn’t know how he could pay for it. If only he were making a very small salary! If only he had time to take another job.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful—Mr. Gibson even gave him time off for school, allowing him to work before and after class to make up for the time. Few apprentices had that privilege! But Mr. Gibson had told him, “You must learn to read and cipher, lad, if you are ever to have your own business. It is important that you be present when the schoolmaster is in town.”
Other than this, however, Mr. Gibson made it clear that the boy’s time belonged to him. There were always ashes to be removed, cleaning to be done, and deliveries to be made, and the master insisted that his apprentice be there, working.
Benjy appreciated the schooling, and not just for himself. With their mother’s help, he taught his lessons to Betsy. She would draw the lamp closer to her bed in her dark little room, and she soon was reading better than Benjy. It pleased her to find that on occasion she could help him.
“The Bible is so big. It has so many words,” he complained once in his struggle to read it.
“I know, Benjy. But it is a blessing to be able to read the words of God. And once you can read the Bible, think how well you will be able to read other books when we get them.”
He was kept so busy at the glassworks that it gave him a feeling of guilt to return at night and realize that all day long he had given little thought to Betsy. On stormy days the closed shutters made the room darker than ever.
It was on just such a day that he arrived home and Betsy asked again, “Benjy, what color was the sky?”
This time Benjy knew. “It was bright blue this morning, Betsy. Then about noon, when I took a pane of glass over to the church, the clouds were coming in and it was more gray than blue. Tonight as I was walking home, at sundown, the clouds were quite black, but rimmed with gold at the sundowning. I wish you had seen it, Betsy. …”
He stopped, knowing only too well how very much she wanted to. If only he could get the glass! Through the little window to the west she could see the sundowns herself.
On his thirteenth birthday, it happened! Mr. Gibson said, “This is the day, Benjy. You are beginning to be a man, and you are beginning to be a glassblower. You have watched Rolf and me often enough. On this day you shall try it for yourself.”
As much as he had wanted this moment to come, Benjy’s hands were shaking as he picked up the blowpipe. Stepping up to the big pot that held the red bubbling mass, he dipped the rod in carefully, lifted the glowing ball, and began to blow. As Mr. Gibson had instructed him, he blew gently, then more gently as the bubble grew and began to thin and expand into a long tube.
When the tube started to cool and harden, Mr. Gibson helped Benjy take it off the blowpipe, cut off its ends, and slit it lengthwise. Then Benjy reheated it enough to bend it flat and smooth it out.
Both Rolf and Mr. Gibson applauded. “There you are!” shouted Mr. Gibson. “You see what we have here, Rolf? No longer just a boy apprentice, but a real glassblower!”
Rolf grinned. “This gives us one more man in the shop. We will be able to make more glass than we have ever made!”
Mr. Gibson nodded, and said to Benjy, “This pane is not quite perfect, but it is wonderfully done for a first one, and you will learn to make them better in time. We’ll hang it on the wall, lad, and then, as you improve with experience, you can compare your panes with this first one.”
Benjy’s heart was pounding harder than when he first dipped the blowpipe into the glass. “You mean you’re not going to melt it down again? You’re just going to hang it on the wall? Here?”
“Why, yes, lad. We could throw it back in, melt it down, and try again, but I thought that you might like to keep your first piece. Do you not wish to see it on the wall?”
“Oh, yes!” Benjy exclaimed. “But if you’re not going to sell it, could you … could I … well, could I put it in Betsy’s window at home?”
When he showed the pane of glass to Betsy, Benjy thought her eyes were the bluest blue he had ever seen.
“Oh, Benjy! How can I ever thank you? I know I’ll be better soon now! I just know it!”
Upon his return from work the following day, it was Benjy who asked, “Betsy, what color is the sky?”
“Blue, Benjy! So very blue!” She looked up at him and grinned. “Aren’t skies always blue?”

I walked into one of my friend’s room for the first time and saw a picture of a girl in an immodest bathing suit. I explained to my friend that this picture was disrespectful and inappropriate, especially displayed in front of female company. When I returned to his house the next time, the picture was gone.
Rachel Smith, 18El Paso, Texas

My father touched me on the shoulder.
“Mrs. Gleaves was my Sunday School teacher,” he said. Mrs. Gleaves laughed.
“That was a long time ago. Your wife was in the class too. She wasn’t your wife then, was she though?”
My father was silent. He kept eating like he hadn’t heard her.
“She had a temper, didn’t she? I remember we were building models of the city of Bethlehem out of Epsom salts one Sunday. I don’t remember what you did, but she got mad at you and dumped the whole bucket of salt on you right there in church.”

I had another experience that strengthened my testimony both of the scriptures and of living prophets. I attended general conference and sat way up high in the choir seats. I distinctly remember listening to President George Albert Smith, the President of the Church, as he stood at the pulpit. I remember feeling the same way listening to him as I felt reading the scriptures. I know now that because he was a prophet of God, the things he was saying were scripture. The spirit I felt was the Holy Ghost bearing witness of that to me.

The dog was nameless and alone. For over a year the stray had lived in constant fear and hunger. People and animals crossed the brown and white dog’s path many times before it finally found a name and a home.

“What are you doing?” Nate asked his big sister, Jessica.
“Writing a thank-you to Grandma for my birthday present.”
“I want to write one too.”
“You don’t know how to write yet,” Jessica said. “Besides, you write thank-yous to someone who gives you a present, and it wasn’t your birthday.”
“Oh,” said Nate, rolling his tongue around in his cheek. Then he started to grin. “I know someone I can make a thank-you for. I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, Nate dumped crayons, markers, and a big sheet of plain white paper on the table.
“Now what are you doing?” Jessica sighed, moving over.
“Making a thank-you picture. I can’t write, but I can draw.”
“Who are you thanking?”
“It’s a surprise.” Nate picked up a yellow crayon, drew a round sun, and colored it in. Then he used markers to make a red house with two blue windows, and a door.
Jessica peered at it. “I know who that picture’s for. It’s for Dad.”
“No,” said Nate, smiling. He drew his black cat, Pepper, and the swing hanging from their big oak tree.
“I bet that picture’s for Mom,” Jessica said.
“Nope.” Nate picked up a blue crayon. He colored birds flying in the sky, and the pond next to their house.
“I’m done,” said Jessica, putting her note into an envelope. “Now I have to write Grandma’s address on it and send it.”
“I’m done, too,” said Nate, coloring a frog by the pond.
“I bet that picture’s for your kindergarten teacher,” Jessica said.
“No,” Nate said. “It’s for someone who gives me different things every day. It’s a thank-you picture for Heavenly Father.”
Jessica smiled. “You’re right, Nate. He does give us all kinds of presents.”
“Do you think He likes my thank-you picture?”
“Sure He does. Everyone likes it when you say thank you.”
Nate smiled. “Help me hang my picture up for Heavenly Father to see. Then I’ll help you mail yours.”

I would like to tell you of a stake conference I was assigned to attend. It was a reorganization; the stake president and his counselors would be released, and a new presidency would be called. The stake president was young and had served wonderfully for almost 10 years. He was a spiritual giant, but he was also an administrative giant. In my personal interview with him, he told me how he had delegated much of the responsibility for the stake functions to his counselors and to the high council and had thus freed himself to interview those who needed encouragement. Individuals and couples were invited to come to his office. There he got to know them, counseled with them, and invited them to do better, to put their lives in order, and to receive the blessings available to those who follow the Lord. He helped them by putting them in the care of a capable leader, a teacher who helped them to understand the beauties of the doctrine. Then he told me that in these interviews he would often ask if they would like a blessing. “I have placed my hands on the heads of many members of the stake,” he said.
The next day in the general session of the stake conference, I doubt I have ever seen so many tears—not because they felt the president should not be released, but for the deep love of a young stake president who had blessed their lives. I felt prompted to ask, “How many of you have had the hands of the president on your heads?” I was amazed at the number of people who raised their hands. I thought to myself at the time, “How many of these people will bless the name of this great man, not only now but throughout the eternities?” Yes, these will be the great-grandfathers who will, because of this loving leader, leave a legacy of generations of thousands who will call him blessed.

Make sure they’re not alone. Being alone only causes thoughts and feelings to get worse until they seem unbearable. In my weak moments, family and friends have stepped in, either by coming to my house to sit with me or by picking me up to be with them.

One of the most famous art galleries in the world is the National Gallery of Art, situated adjacent to Trafalgar Square in the city of London, England. The gallery has on display many priceless masterpieces.
Just a few weeks ago my wife, Frances, and I visited the National Gallery and admired the display of inspired genius which met our gaze and touched our hearts. A large painting occupied most of the wall of one room. It was an incomparable piece by the renowned Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, completed in the year 1670 and titled Christ Healing the Paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda. The centuries have not dimmed its beauty, dulled its appeal, nor diminished its impact.
I could not avert my eyes, nor could I transfer my thoughts. I was carried back through time as I saw the crippled man lying on his crude crutch with his arms extended and his hands upturned as he appealed to the Savior of the world. The words and thoughts expressed in the book of John coursed through my mind. I share them with you this morning:
“Now there is at Jerusalem by the sheep market a pool, which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches.
“In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water.
“For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.
“And a certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years.
“When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole?
“The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me.
“Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk.
“And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked.”
At length, after pondering this scripture, I left the reverie of the room; however, the impact of that masterpiece was indelibly impressed on my soul.

The biggest issue is you. You can best help your family by your example. I have done my best in doing what is right. As a result, my two older sisters and older brothers respect me. They say they wish they had been like me when they were my age. Try prayer. It is amazing what the power of prayer can do!
Angela Whitaker, 18Deltona, Florida

Kayaking with my dog, Rueger, makes me smile! My brother and I were fishing from our kayaks one morning. The water was freezing. Our dog was so excited he jumped right in with us and loved sitting in the kayak with me!
Conrad M., 12, Idaho, USA

My mother showed me how important the gathering of Israel is by helping full-time missionaries teach and share the gospel. One time I joined her to find the home of a sister in the ward who hadn’t attended church for some time. We almost got lost because we didn’t know exactly where she lived. Instead of being irritated, my mother diligently looked for that sister’s home. Like the woman in the parable of the lost coin (see Luke 15:8–10), she found the sister and rejoiced.
The way my mother gave her best for the Lord’s work, not only in sharing the gospel but also in other Church callings, helped me realize that everyone must serve the Lord, even in small ways.