Gospel Story Finder

Some people may think it’s unusual for someone as young as Steven to play the organ for sacrament meeting, but for the Parkway Eighth Ward in South Jordan, Utah, young players are a regular occurrence. Steven is just one of seven youth in this ward who take turns playing the organ for sacrament meeting.
The youth involvement started when Sister Deanna Sorensen, the former ward organist, was going to retire from her job as a schoolteacher and go on a mission. There was only one other person in the ward who could play, so Sister Sorensen decided to teach some of the youth who already played the piano how to play the organ.
“Sister Sorensen was always talking about how the world needs more organ players,” says Emily Holbrook, 17.
Emily decided to learn the organ when Sister Sorensen was tutoring her in math and mentioned she would be teaching the organ. Emily thought it sounded exciting and wanted to learn how to play.
The most important thing she and the other students would learn was to hold down the organ keys for the duration of the notes, because unlike a piano, an organ has no sustain pedal. An organ also has two keyboards, a number of foot pedals, and things called stops, which change the type of sound that comes out of the organ.
Learning the organ can be difficult, but these youth have put in the effort and received support from their leaders and parents. And they know their efforts make a difference.
“It’s really blessed our ward because we’ve all developed a greater love and appreciation for the hymns,” Sister Craven says. She also says the ward has grown closer as they’ve come together to support the youth.
“A lot of people come up and give me compliments and they seem really happy the youth are helping out,” says Landon Howard, 14, another organist.
Playing for sacrament meeting was not easy at first. Lauren Howard, 17, remembers being nervous. “I was terrified,” she says. “I remember my hands were just shaking.” All the youth admitted they were scared, but they did it anyway.
“I knew it would be a good experience and it would help me overcome my fear of playing,” Lauren says. “And now it has. I’m a lot better than I was my first time.”
The key to overcoming fear, they learned, is putting effort into preparation.
“I just practiced a lot,” says Randon Fullmer, 13. The other youth agreed that practice helped them overcome nervousness. They also relied on the Lord.
“I think that the Lord has helped me play by calming my nervousness before I play,” Steven says. “I pray before I play, and it helps me play better, without too many mistakes.”
These students started taking lessons so they could learn a skill and help their ward, but in the process they learned a lot of other things.
“I know Heavenly Father is there,” says Jenny Forsyth, 16. “I know that I can’t do it without Him.”
Sharli Fullmer, 11, the youngest of the group has learned that “your testimony can grow when you sing and play because the hymns teach you truth.”
Sister Craven says the youth have also learned how to magnify a calling. They choose the hymns they would like to play, subject to approval from the ward music leader and the bishop. And not one of them has ever missed a Sunday assignment. Learning to play the organ will prepare them for future callings, especially if they are somewhere an organist is needed.
“I think it could be a good talent to use on a mission, for example,” Landon says.
Many youth at some point have the opportunity to learn to play a musical instrument, and some have the chance to play in sacrament meeting. The youth of the Parkway Eighth Ward know youth can be successful at both.
“Stick with it; don’t give it up,” Emily says. “A lot of people do it because their parents want them to. Or they get really discouraged because they’re not doing very well. I say just have fun with it and have a good attitude.”
“Pray to Heavenly Father that He will help you, and practice really hard and practice a lot,” Jenny says.
It’s the positive attitude, practice, and reliance on the Lord that has helped them to play and to serve, something they do so well that the members of their ward are excited to look and see who is playing.

We couldn’t help being a little nervous. Mrs. Hall was one of our strongest investigators. She already knew the Church was true, even though she was not a member. Other missionaries had initially contacted her, and as she had received the standard lessons and read the Book of Mormon, her inclination to believe had grown into a strong testimony. My companion and I had encouraged her continued study of the gospel.
But now her sister, Joan McArthur, was coming to visit. Mrs. Hall’s husband and all the relatives on both sides of the family were devoted to other churches, and she did not want to be baptized until her husband (who was, at least, friendly with the missionaries) would embrace the gospel with her. She was also concerned about antagonizing other family members, particularly her parents, by joining the Church before they fully understood what she was doing and why.
It was easy to imagine that Mrs. Hall’s sister was being sent to check up on her and to warn her to quit associating with Mormons. Still Joan was only 20, and it would be her first time away from home. She must have been as full of apprehension during her journey to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, as we were waiting for her to arrive.
Mrs. Hall, however, seemed unruffled. She simply invited us to dinner a few days later when Joan had had time to get settled. I think Joan was surprised when her sister greeted us at the door and ushered us into the living room. Maybe she had suspected that “missionaries” had to be middle-aged men or raving fanatics. We were happy and yet earnest; she, in turn, seemed at ease chatting with two young ladies approximately her own age. Following the meal, we showed a filmstrip. She had plenty of questions, and we promised to return.
At the next appointment, Joan came dressed almost in armor. Every argument and falsehood she had ever heard about Mormons bristled. But she didn’t fling them at us. Rather, she laid them on the table and asked for an explanation. As she described her apprehensions, we responded as best we could. Our answers seemed to satisfy her. She knew her Bible well and referred to scripture after scripture. She seemed genuinely interested in the passages we quoted, and all of us looked them up and discussed them. From that day on, I was impressed with her deep spiritual insight. At the end of the conversation we all felt a little more at ease. We explained why we were called “sisters,” talked about our homes and families, and shared the convictions that had led us to our 18-month calls of service to the Lord. She told us about the excitement of her first cross-country train trip.
The next lesson was about the Apostasy. Joan desperately fought it, finally asking us to leave and not come back. She said she didn’t want to hear any more. She was upset; we were disappointed and frustrated. She later wrote in a letter, “I remember that after you left that evening, I cried bitterly because of the words in the Joseph Smith tract that said all of the other churches were ‘an abomination in my sight.’ That really hurt because my church meant something very special to me. I had believed all my life what my parents had taught me, and a statement like that dashed my whole world. How could Joseph Smith say something like that? But he had said the Lord had said it. That was the big difficulty.
“Jessie (Mrs. Hall) didn’t force me to continue studying, but she did encourage me. I don’t think I would have continued without her. But there was too much love between us as family members for me not to.
“I was angry and felt indignant, feelings I marvel at now. I wonder how I remained teachable, but the Lord was kind to me and patient. My problem was, I thought I could believe everything the sisters were teaching me and still remain a member of my church. I clung to that idea.”
But Joan was a truth-seeker. After a week of prayer and soul-struggle, she called us back. She had changed her mind. When could we come teach her more?
I noticed as we presented the next discussion, about the restoration of the gospel, that a change came over her. She stopped resisting. She seemed to be thirsting eagerly asking questions as though the answers wouldn’t come quickly enough. She was understanding that Christ’s visit to Joseph Smith was an act of love; that the truth is on earth in its fulness not for those who want to find fault, but for those yearning to fill in missing pieces.
The same spirit prevailed at the next lesson. Topic: the plan of salvation. I knew my companion and I weren’t alone doing the teaching. Words flowed freely. Scriptures were located without trouble. Spirit communed with spirit. Overcome with excitement, Joan exclaimed, “Now, I see why Jessie wants to be baptized!”
Despite all her declaration that she would never join the Church, Joan was a different person than she had been when she first arrived to visit her sister. As we left the house, I felt inspired to turn to my companion and say, “I know that someday she will join the Church.”
We spent a few more visits with her, teaching a strong gospel lesson each time. Then I was transferred to another area in the mission. I heard no more about this sincere young lady, or about the Hall family, until after I returned home from my mission.
Then one day a letter with Canadian stamps was waiting in my mailbox. It had taken them a long time to track down my address and to write to me, the letter said, but Joan and Sister Hall wanted me to know that they had both been baptized two years before in a cold lake just outside the city!
It was the start of a string of surprise letters. Two years later one told me that Joan was on a mission in South Africa and that Sister Hall’s husband, Barry, though still not interested in studying about the Church, loved the missionaries and members as he always had and was taking the family to Sunday School. Later I received a wedding announcement from Joan. She was being married in the Salt Lake Temple to a returned missionary. Later that same year Sister Hall wrote that her husband had been baptized and loved working in the Church. The next year they brought their children with them to be sealed as a family in the Salt Lake Temple.
Since then Brother Hall has been a branch president, a member of a stake presidency, and is now a member of a stake high council. Joan’s husband, Dale J. Laub, became a bishop. Both sisters are active in their callings and have done genealogy that has allowed them to accomplish temple ordinances for several hundred ancestors.
As a young lady just out of her teens, Joan McArthur had come to Victoria determined that she would change her sister’s mind if necessary. Instead, she had the courage to change her own. Her sincerity in calling upon the Lord would not allow her to do otherwise. Her sister Jessie was wise enough to be patient while explaining the gospel, allowing the Lord’s Spirit to do the persuading.
Both of them learned to listen to their hearts, and many others will be eternally grateful that they did. Joan McArthur not only changed her opinion about the Church, she changed her life.

The Sunday before Christmas I woke up to the sounds of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. That’s how Mom gets us up on Sundays. From then on, the day went downhill. To begin with, my hairbrush was missing. I suspected my three-year-old brother, Jeffy, had taken it, and sure enough, I found it in his toy box. “Mom,” I complained, “I’m getting sick and tired of this little shrimp getting into my things!”
Mom was busy giving the baby a bath, and she acted as if she hadn’t even heard me. “Amy,” she said, “we’re going to need to change our plans for tonight’s family Christmas program. Daddy just called from church, and that new family, the Hansens, are still living in a motel. He’d like to invite them for dinner and to spend the evening with us. There’s nothing less like the Sabbath than the Silver Moon Motel.”
“But Mom, you can’t do that!” I wailed. “You know I’ve planned this for two months, and it’s just for our family. All the parts are taken.
“Besides,” I went on, getting louder and louder, “they have a bunch of little shrimps who’d probably tear the whole house apart.” Then I started to cry.
Mother wrapped the baby in a towel and turned to face me. “Amy, I had no idea that it meant this much to you. Please don’t be so upset. I’ll just tell Dad when we get to church, and he can tell the Hansens that it won’t work out.”
All during sacrament meeting I watched the three Hansen kids—two-, three-, and four-year-old boys—climbing all over the benches and squirming across their parents’ laps. Brother and Sister Hansen looked pretty tired by the time they’d taken each boy out about five times. It’s just as well, I thought to myself, I can’t even imagine what four little boys would do to my bedroom!
I felt relieved all the way to Primary. On the way down the hall, I noticed that it had started snowing outside. It was going to be a perfect family night.
When I got to class, Sister Martin, my Merrie Miss teacher, wanted to know what we thought it might have been like to be strangers in a strange town, like Mary and Joseph were when they went to Bethlehem. All of us had an answer to that question. Even Mandi Perkins, who hardly ever says anything, said, “I bet they felt lonely.”
Then Sister Martin asked us why we thought the innkeeper hadn’t let this poor, lonely couple stay at his house. We really had to think about that for a while. The innkeeper had always been one of the side characters in the Christmas story. But I’d never thought about him having feelings.
“Well,” I suggested, “he probably felt busy with all his other company.”
Jenny Peterson thought the innkeeper might have been thinking that this couple, who were soon going to have a baby, would be too much trouble. That’s when I started to feel a little uncomfortable.
“He probably had things planned the way he wanted them, and here came some people to mess up his plans,” my best friend, Rachel, added. Suddenly this wasn’t a Christmas story that happened two thousand years ago. This was something that was happening today.
Mandi Perkins added the final blow—“The innkeeper missed the whole thing, didn’t he? The two most important guests in the world came to his place, and he wouldn’t let them in.”
“Do you suppose, girls,” said Sister Martin, “that we ever act like the innkeeper? That maybe we become a little selfish and miss helping someone? Look with me in your Bibles at Matthew 25:40 [Matt. 25:40]: ‘And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”
By that time my eyes were so filled with tears that the words seemed to be swimming across the page. Here were the Hansens without a place to live, and I was acting like the innkeeper, not wanting them to bother me. I knew how I would act if the Hansens were Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus, and I knew that Heavenly Father would want me to treat them the same way.
Luckily Sister Martin didn’t ask me to give the prayer, because I was having a hard time swallowing. Afterward I hurried out of the room as quickly as I could and headed down the hall to where I saw my parents. I heard my dad saying to the Hansens, “We’re awfully sorry, but our daughter—”
I didn’t even think. I rushed up and blurted out, “There’s room at the inn!” and then I blushed deep red.
Dad saw my red eyes and must have guessed what had happened, because he just continued: “As I was saying,”—he put his arm around me—“our daughter has planned a very special Christmas program for tonight, and I think she wants to warn you that you’ll be having a part in it!”

I am grateful for a teacher who encouraged his students to keep a journal of the whisperings or promptings of the Spirit in their lives. He directed us to note what we felt and what resulted. Little things became evident. One day I was frantically trying to complete some assignments and prepare for a trip. I had just been down to the laundry area of the dorm to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Unfortunately, all the dryers were in use, and they all had many minutes to go. I went back upstairs discouraged, knowing by the time those dryers finished, I had to be on the road. I had barely returned to my room when I felt prompted to go back downstairs and check the laundry again. Foolishness, I thought—I had just been there, and I didn’t have time. But because I was trying to listen, I went. Two of the dryers were empty—and I was able to meet all my commitments. Could the Lord possibly have been concerned about smoothing my way in such a small but, to me, important matter? I have learned since through many such experiences that the Lord will help us in every aspect of our lives when we are trying to serve Him and do His will.

You’ve all heard the miracle tales about the young man or woman raised in poverty who overcomes great odds to become a world-class athlete, complete with wealth and fame.
Well, we’ve got a similar story for you, but it starts out even worse and ends up even better. Sound impossible? Read on.
Olivio Gomes Manuel grew up in a small Angolan village. He and his seven brothers and sisters lived in a two-room mud hut with a dirt floor and thatched roof. Plumbing and electricity were unheard of.
When Olivio was nine years old, his country was thrust into an extremely violent civil war in which thousands were murdered or just disappeared. Then, when most of the fighting was over, famine swept through Angola, and thousands more died of starvation. “It was not a good life,” Olivio says, in his very deep, soft voice. Understatement is typical of him.
But Olivio was saved from starvation by his incredible height and agility. He was able to play basketball for food. “God blessed me,” he says.
By the age of eleven, Olivio was six-foot-three. He had been playing professional ball for about two years. “Professional” meant that the company that sponsored his team would sometimes feed him on game days. Some weeks, those were the only full meals Olivio ate.
And the road trips were the best of all—his meals were all taken care of. Olivio played in Nigeria, Algeria, Zaire, and even in Czechoslovakia. “I was there for ten days, and they gave us money for food,” says Olivio. “With this money I bought clothes and shoes for my family. It was difficult to buy clothes in Angola. They were so expensive.”
Olivio had been raised by his parents to be a good Christian, but at times his faith was tried. “If there is a God, how can he let so many people die—so many people suffer?” he asked. Still, Olivio could not deny that God had had a hand in his survival. He felt that he was being prepared for something.
When Olivio was seventeen, he played on a team for the Angloan military. All the boys in the country were required to go into the military for an indefinite amount of time. He also made the national team.
That’s when Olivio began to dream of playing ball in Portugal. He was fluent in Portuguese. (Angola is a former Portuguese colony, and Portuguese is the official language.) And what’s more, Olivio heard that they actually paid professional players salaries in Portugal. He would be able to send money home to his family.
It took Olivio a few years to get a visa to go. But once he arrived in Portugal, it took him only a few days to find a professional team that wanted him. At six-foot-seven, he not only had the stature they were looking for, but he also had the skill.
And it took him only a month to find something else. “I was on the metro, and I saw these two boys—they were only boys, but they were wearing nice suits—and they said they wanted to talk to me, so I said okay.
“They started to teach me the discussions. The Joseph Smith story surprised me, but it felt good. Everything felt good. One week later I went to a conference. I attended the meetings, and afterwards I was baptized. Baptism is for the remission of sins. I was a good guy, but I knew I needed to be baptized.”
Little did Olivio know what that baptism would lead to. When he wasn’t playing basketball, Olivio was at church. “I tried to go to church all the time. Every time I would go, my mind would open up, and I would learn something new. It felt good.”
Then one day, about a year later, one of Olivio’s American teammates said, “Hey—you’re Mormon. Don’t Mormons go on missions? Are you going to quit the team and go too?”
That started Olivio thinking. “The things I learned made sense to me, and I said, ‘Well, if these things come from God. I have to explain them to other people.”
But leaving basketball—that would be tough. Olivio had just made the Portuguese national team, and his professional team had offered him a very lucrative contract—lots of money, a car, and a luxurious apartment.
“It was a difficult decision to leave basketball, so I decided to get my patriarchal blessing. There it said that I was going to serve the Lord, so I decided to do it. God prepared me to come here and find the gospel by giving me these talents to play basketball. I don’t have a problem leaving it to serve him. I think I can help many people.”
And now, Elder Olivio Gomes Manuel, who left northern Portugal almost two years ago to serve in southern Portugal, is helping many people. He’s well known throughout the mission for his good nature and easy smile, his hard work, and his gentle rapport with the people he towers over.
That isn’t the kind of fame that makes you a star on national television—it’s more the kind of fame that makes you a star in the eternities. And while he won’t make lots of money from gigantic contracts and endorsements, he knows that his eternal reward will be far greater.
Still, you see his eyes light up when you put a basketball in his hands on preparation day. Watching him glide around the court, you realize basketball is as natural for him as swimming is to fish. It seems to be what he was made for. Oh, once his mission is over he would like to use basketball to earn a university education. But then he wants to return to Angola “to help the Church and help the people grow there.” Elder Manuel speaks mostly Portuguese now, but he remembers his native language, an African dialect called Quinbondo, and he knows English as well.
Even though the end of this tale is far from written, it’s already a success story as tall as Elder Manuel himself. After all, the richest pro in the world can’t buy his way into heaven. And no matter how many autographs you’ve signed, if your name isn’t written in the book of life, your fame won’t mean a thing.
Elder Manuel has already gained more success than he ever hoped to, and his secret is simple: “I listen to God, and when I do what he says, he blesses me.”

In 2012 I traveled to India for some curriculum-development-related research. It was a life-changing experience in so many ways! I think that there may never have been a time in my life when I felt so keenly the sense of being the other, a foreigner, than during my time in India. We visited Islamic, Buddhist, Bahai, and other religious shrines along with other cultural and historic sites. One of the places we visited was the Sri Harmandir Sahib, or Golden Temple of the Sikh religion in Amritsar. This temple is the keeping place of the Guru Granth Sahib, the holy scriptures of Sikhism. The Sikh people are among the kindest and most hospitable people I have ever encountered. People there were very willing to help us and explain things to us. I had a very nice conversation with a young Sikh woman, a medical student in New York City, who was on a pilgrimage to the Golden Temple. Several of us in our group encountered a particularly friendly Sikh man who had come to the temple after work, still in his uniform, just to help direct tourists and pilgrims. He was very helpful in explaining things to us, and even wrote down some directions and recommendations for us, as you can see in this picture. He explained the rituals surrounding the Sikh scriptures, and then he bore his testimony in these words. He said, “I know that if you make time for the word of God each day in your life, He will bless you.” This simple statement hit me very powerfully, and the Spirit confirmed its truth. My testimony of daily scripture study was strengthened. I have never forgotten that lesson, and I have never forgotten this kind man. He was faithful to the light and truth that he had, and it blessed me.

As a child in Virginia, Kevin took an immediate interest in piano. “Before I studied piano I’d go up to the piano and fool around on it, just make some noise,” he said. When Kevin was five, his nine-year-old sister started lessons, and he decided to follow her example. “My mother thought I’d grow tired of it, sitting on the hard bench for a couple of hours. But I didn’t. And that’s when they discovered I had some talent and should continue. My parents have always encouraged me but never forced me. Sometimes when you’re very young your parents have to give you a little push, because you haven’t developed a lot of self-discipline. You really want to practice, but other things seem more important at the moment. Parents can look ahead for you and help you see the road you want to take.”
When Kevin was 10, his family moved back home to California. “By the time I was 12, I had no question I wanted to continue,” he said. “But at 13, I almost stopped when my teacher left on a concert tour and we had to find someone new.” Kevin finally became a student of Krzysztof Brzuza in San Diego and has attended the San Francisco Conservatory. He has also studied under Leon Fleischer at the Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore, Maryland, the oldest conservatory in the U.S.

In March of 1842, Charlotte Haven of Nauvoo, Illinois, wrote a chatty letter to relatives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, describing a party she had attended in a Mormon home. One hundred and forty-five years later, a group of seminary students in Portsmouth recreated that Nauvoo party.
When the first guests walked up the snowy path to the home of Dell and Laura Fox on December 23, 15 costumed teenagers were still running upstairs and down, checking fireplaces, whipping cream, arranging ringlets, and threading yarn through oversized needles. Our “Joseph Smith Birthday Party” was the culmination of four months of study in our Church history course. Early in the fall we began collecting ideas and materials. We wanted everything—food, costumes, games, program—to be as true to the period 1805–1844 as possible.
We learned, for example, that Nauvoo Mormons sent formal written invitations to social events. So early in December parents and other special guests opened handmade invitations “soliciting the pleasure of” their company on “December 23, instant.” (“Instant” simply means in the present or current month. In an age when communication was often slow, it had a practical as well as formal value.)
But because we also wanted to share much of what we had learned in seminary during the fall, we decided to do some things that the Saints of the 1840s couldn’t have done, like show slides and filmstrips. One of our anachronisms was purely for fun. Even though our research convinced us that early Mormon parties would not have included a sugar-frosted birthday cake, we made one anyway, complete with a replica of the Nauvoo Temple constructed with sugar cubes and glue.
The Fox home was the obvious setting for our party, having been built in 1820 when Joseph Smith was just 14 years old. It still has sliding interior shutters and a fireplace in each of the eight rooms. The floor plan is reminiscent of the Mansion House built by the Prophet in Nauvoo.
As they arrived, guests were greeted at the door by “Emma Smith,” then ushered into the living room where they were entertained with piano and violin music. With everyone assembled, we divided into small groups for a house tour complete with special activities in selected rooms. “Joseph Smith” greeted guests on the stairs and treated them to a few impromptu remarks. Upstairs was “a large quilting frame around which sat … the belles of Nauvoo” just as in Charlotte Haven’s day. But unlike the 19th-century girls who may have sewed quietly until the quilt was finished, these girls chattered enthusiastically, explaining the incidents from Church history illustrated in each square of the quilt.
Downstairs in the “drawing room,” two students showed slides of the Nauvoo and Kirtland temples and explained photographs and maps illustrating Joseph Smith’s achievements as a city builder. In the “parlour” small groups played 19th-century games to the accompaniment of considerable giggling.
Meanwhile, the refreshment committee was busy in the candle-lit dining room arranging a host of tasty treats concocted from old recipes. Like most 19th-century parties, those of Nauvoo featured heavily laden tables that included roasts and main dishes as well as sweets. We chose to concentrate on the latter, with homemade donuts and cider, three kinds of pie (mince, apple, and custard), and four puddings (bread pudding; maple cream; “Injun Pudding,” made with molasses and hand-ground corn meal; and “Freshmen’s Tears,” a traditional New England concoction thickened with old-fashioned tapioca pearls). In honor of Mother Smith, we included root beer and hard gingerbread, two commodities she manufactured in her Palmyra home and sold to neighbors.
The climax of the evening was a short program followed by testimonies around the fire. “Eliza R. Snow” read a poem of her own composition. “Mother Smith” sat in a rocking chair and reminisced about the life of her prophet-son as selected events came to life in short tableaus. In the darkened room, with flickering candlelight and the glow of the fire, we felt as though we had stepped back a century and a half and had gained a deeper appreciation for the life and work of Joseph Smith.

“My attitude toward the law of tithing was set in place by the example and words of my mother, illustrated in a conversation I remember from my youth.

“During World War II, my widowed mother supported her three young children on a schoolteacher’s salary that was meager. When I became conscious that we went without some desirable things because we didn’t have enough money, I asked my mother why she paid so much of her salary as tithing. I have never forgotten her explanation: ‘Dallin, there might be some people who can get along without paying tithing, but we can’t. The Lord has chosen to take your father and leave me to raise you children. I cannot do that without the blessings of the Lord, and I obtain those blessings by paying an honest tithing. When I pay my tithing, I have the Lord’s promise that he will bless us, and we must have those blessings if we are to get along.’”2

Jan Tucek, 24, of the Ceské Budejovice Branch, Czechoslovakia District, left his medical studies with only one year remaining before he would have become a doctor. “I wasn’t sure I should go,” he explains. “Then I saw the video Called to Serve, and it answered my prayers.” In it, an elder told how his mission fortified his testimony of the Book of Mormon.

“Through him, the Lord was telling me, ‘If you want to have a stronger testimony, if you want to help other people have this same knowledge, then you have to go on a mission.’”

School officials promised to hold a place for him. “But the hard part was explaining to my parents. They felt I could help people more by being a doctor. But I have more important work now for two years. Then I can work my whole life as a doctor.”

Ava wiggled in her seat. She heard her Primary teacher talking. But Ava could not pay attention. All she could think about was the box under Sister Obi’s chair.
It was wrapped in shiny blue paper. It had a gold bow on top. What could it be? Ava leaned her head way down. She stared at the box. She wished she could see through the shiny paper. She could hardly wait to find out what was inside.
Finally Sister Obi pulled out the box. She set it on her lap.
“Inside this box is one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations,” Sister Obi said. “Look inside. Then pass it on without saying anything.” She passed the box to Noah.
Noah slowly lifted the lid. He stared inside the box. He smiled. Then he passed the box to June.
Ava watched everyone take a turn. One by one, each of her friends opened the box. They looked inside. They smiled.
What could be so important to Heavenly Father? And how could something so special fit in such a little box?
Finally it was Ava’s turn. She lifted the shiny lid and looked inside. It was a mirror! Ava looked at the mirror in the box. She saw her own face looking back.
Ava saw her eyes get big. Was she one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations? Did Heavenly Father love her that much?
Ava smiled. She felt warm and happy inside. It was like a big hug. A big hug from Heavenly Father. He did love her! She was one of His greatest creations.

As a young missionary, Joseph F. did all in his power to advance the Savior’s work “to earth’s remotest bounds.”11 Before his 16th birthday he accepted the call to serve as a missionary in the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii). His first assignment in October 1854 was at Kula, where he immersed himself in the Hawaiian language and culture. This inexperienced youth soon discovered that the people “had different habits to anything I had before known, and their food, and dress and houses and everything were new and strange. … For three months this seclusion from the world continued, but the history of that short period of my life never can be told. I had ample time to feel after the Lord and to draw near to him with my whole soul.”12

In the process, he also found himself drawing closer to the Hawaiian people. He earnestly sought the gift of tongues and learned their language in a hundred days. He taught the gospel, settled grievances, healed the sick, cast out evil spirits, and tried to reclaim those who had drifted away.

On the islands of Maui, Hawaii, and Molokai, he served as presiding elder and learned to receive and extend love. He recorded in his journal in March 1856 that a brother on Maui “gave me his shoes from off his feet and went barefooted himself. … This was a specimen of his love to me that should not be forgotten.”13

On Molokai, he received motherly care from Sister Ma Mahuhii, who nursed him for three months while he lay seriously ill. She never forgot him, nor he her. “Iosepa, Iosepa,” she cried out when he visited Hawaii nearly 50 years later. “Mama, Mama, my dear old Mama!” he replied.14 Those who had seemed so different from himself at the outset of his mission had become his family.

President Joseph F. Smith became an ardent defender of the faith on his first mission. On his second, he learned the importance of avoiding contention and proffering peace. In 1896 he described to his son Hyrum an incident that occurred during his mission to England in the early 1860s. “I was speaking, and I said that ‘the authority of the Apostles of today was the same as that held by the Apostles of Christ’s day, and that the word of the modern Apostles was as good as the word of the ancient Apostles.’ Somebody in the audience cried out ‘blasphemy!’ This was too much for my boyish temper to bear.”

The spirited young missionary argued fiercely with his opponent and “stirred up the emissaries of his Satanic Majesty until they were red-hot.” President Smith described learning “a good lesson” from his outburst. “Thereafter I moderated my fervor—became more diplomatic in the presence of a mixed crowd, and avoided showing any temper when reviled. In fact I learned to be reviled without reviling back again, to take an insult without retorting, except in meekness and gentlemanly candor.” He summarized, “I always tried to make my hearers feel that I and my associates were peacemakers, and lovers of peace and good will, that our mission was to pave, and not destroy, to build up and not tear down.”15

When I was called to serve as a General Authority, I had an interview with President Faust. He noticed that I was concerned because I felt inadequate for such a call. In his tender way, President Faust told me, “Athos, be yourself. Be yourself.” That night I lay awake in bed, thinking of my new responsibilities and of President Faust’s words. And I prayed. I asked myself, Who am I? And the answer came as clear and bright as the dawn of that brand-new day. I am, like each one of you, a child of God who wants to obey the Lord and serve wherever He sends me and thus be a better child of our Heavenly Father and a faithful member of the true Church of Jesus Christ.

At the time, the temple was quiet and functioned in ‘phase two’, limiting operations for live ordinances by appointment only. When tighter lockdown restrictions were announced, it was apparent that the temple would soon close. With this in mind, and not knowing when the temple would reopen, a few couples quickly moved up their plans to get married and be sealed the day before the temple closed its doors.

“We continue to pray that the temple will again fully open. The temple is a place where visitors and patrons come to feel peace and closeness to God,” said President Martin. “Even during this time of closure, we knew that people have missed coming to the temple, even to walk the grounds. We would see them come to the closed gates, spend a few minutes, and then leave.”

In his talk “Go Forward in Faith’ at the April 2020 general conference, Russell M. Nelson said, “Brothers and sisters, during times of our distress when temples are closed, you can still draw upon the power of your temple covenants and endowment as you honor your covenants. Please use this time when temples are closed to continue to live a temple-worthy life or to become temple worthy.”1

During their first few weeks, the Martins, McKechnies and Hoyles participated in virtual training with the First Presidency and members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. (Prior to COVID-19, the training was held in person at Church headquarters in Salt Lake City with only temple presidents and matrons in attendance. Following the training, presidents and matrons would return home and share what they had learned with their presidencies, assistant matrons, and others.)

Sister Martin explained, “Being able to train together in this setting was a tremendous blessing. We were able to get to know each other … an opportunity that may not have occurred if the temple was fully-functioning and busy.” They felt a spirit of unity, she said.

About a year ago I had new tires put on my car. I soon heard a new sound as I drove. It wasn’t very loud and it wasn’t consistent, so I assumed it was due to the road, which was under construction. However, the noise continued, and so I brought the car back to the garage. They assured me it was just the new tires. I was relieved to hear this and drove away again, ignoring the sound. Over time the noise seemed to get a bit louder, but I unconsciously just turned up the radio a bit more, ignored the noise, and went on my way.

Months later I was in Salt Lake City picking up several friends to go to a concert. As the first friend got into my car, she immediately heard the sound and asked what was wrong with my car. I replied that nothing was wrong—did she hear something? (That tells you how much I had tuned out the sound.) She heard it loud and clear, as did the others in the car.

I brought my car to the garage the next day and was told the noise was due to an abnormal rubbing that had caused major damage. It was a dangerous situation that needed immediate repair. I thought back on the miles I had driven and how I had learned to completely tune out what became a very loud noise.

I still can’t believe I had been able to tune it out. I realize it was quite crazy! I wonder what else in my life I had “tuned out” simply because I was too busy or distracted by other things in life—because I did not stop and listen.

A prospective elder in Utah was afraid to go to church because he didn’t want to be called on to pray or answer questions. After two months of being taught the gospel in their home, he and his wife accepted an invitation to attend the temple preparation seminar. Shortly afterward, they made church attendance their goal, despite the man’s fears. It was their decision, arising out of their progress in learning the gospel. He’s now been ordained an elder, and he and his wife have been sealed in the temple.

Riding to Carthage he might have recalled the time in Missouri when he and some of his brethren had been betrayed into the hands of their enemies. The leader of the mob convened a court; Joseph and his associates were placed on trial for their lives. They were convicted and all sentenced to be shot the next morning at eight o’clock in the public square in Far West. At the appointed hour they were duly led forth to be murdered, but a dispute among the mob saved them.

Without even being permitted to bid farewell to their families, they were taken from place to place and exhibited to jeering crowds while the Saints were told they would never see their leaders again. But Joseph cheered his fellow prisoners by announcing that none of them would suffer death.

“Be of good cheer, brethren,” he said, “the word of the Lord came to me last night that our lives should be given us, . . . not one of our lives shall be taken” (HC 3:200).

While the waterfall project was underway, Brother Kamauoha challenged the young girls to make a path that would lead people from the village to the waterfall. They planned one pathway, but upon inspection they could see it wasn’t right, and so Brother Kamauoha challenged them to try another one. This still wasn’t any good. They reported to him, and he confirmed that it wasn’t right and told them that the reason it wasn’t right was because they hadn’t tried hard enough. “The third time they did their best, and the planned path was perfect. It curved properly, they had avoided the boggy spots, and the entire path was ideal,” he said.
Every evening after school the girls carried baskets of pebbles up from the river and placed them on the path. Each of them would carry 25 to 40 baskets of rocks each evening, and with everyone working, it took only a few months to complete.
Then the boys and girls brought young trees from the mountains to plant beside the trail. They also brought orchids, tree ferns, and other plants to make the trail beautiful. And they named their trail Losa (Rose) Lane.

At a very young age I realized my father and mother loved each other very much. It became evident in the symbols that represented their bond. Their anniversary was an event marked with great celebration. At other times of the year, outward symbols served to renew their marital commitment. The look on my mother’s face when my father presented her with a dozen red roses is indelibly painted in my mind. The symbol was powerful in my life, and my parents renewed the event many times as I grew older.

On my own wedding day, we also selected roses to represent our special occasion. Thus we continued a tradition that symbolized commitment, a symbol I had loved to witness in my parents.

During the time my parents were serving in the Arizona Holbrook Mission, I joined them for a few days at Christmastime. Christmas morning we delivered treats and greetings to some of the families with whom they worked. As I stood in the center of one of the hogans surveying the surroundings and the people, I was overwhelmed with a sense of my richness in terms of material possessions and awed by the sense of peace, happiness, and contentment that radiated from the faces of the extended-family members who were present. “Could I be this content in these circumstances?” I asked myself. “What did I do to deserve what I have? What are my responsibilities? What are my values? What really matters?”

Am I rich? The answer depends on the comparative basis I choose to use—but in my heart I know that I have enough of this world’s material blessings and that I will be accountable for my use of them. Are you rich? Do you have enough and to spare? How can that determination be made? When we use more than our share of the earth’s resources, are we rich or are we greedy, or are we both rich and greedy? Are we greedy in our demands? Are we accountable?