Gospel Story Finder

It was World War II, and in a crowded ship in the Pacific Ocean 3,000 soldiers sat listening to the chaplain. Tomorrow they would attack an enemy-held island, and the chances of many of them surviving the battle were slim. “One-half of you will be standing before your Maker tomorrow morning at 8:00,” the minister said seriously. “Are you ready?”
The next day the first six groups to approach the island were completely blown out of the water. Paul H. Dunn, in the seventh group, miraculously reached safety. He recounts his feelings: “I crawled ashore … dug a small foxhole … knelt down with my head bared … and asked my Heavenly Father very simply, ‘Do you live? Are you real? Is Jesus Christ really my Savior? Was Joseph Smith a prophet of the Church like I’ve heard all my life and can’t quite understand?’ And then it came, that sweet inner commitment and verification, spirit touching spirit, saying in a silent voice, ‘It is so.’” (P. 135.)
In You and Your World, Elder Dunn, member of the Presidency of the First Quorum of the Seventy, relates this story and many others, as he counsels Church members in five areas: Building Commitment, Strengthening the Home, Gathering Souls, Refining a Testimony, and Mastering Self. A selection of 24 addresses given by Elder Dunn, the book is a compilation of scripture, poetry, stories, and spiritual experiences that discusses gospel principles in an uplifting and inspiring manner.

Seth lay in the dark, wondering what had awakened him. His ears strained to hear a noise, and his heart began to pound. There it was again! He jumped, then sighed with relief. It was the new telephone. They had bought it through a mail-order catalog. His dad and their neighbors, the Smiths, used the top strand of the barbed-wire fence that separated their ranches to string a telephone wire on. Then they used old rubber tires as fence connectors so that the lines wouldn’t short out. When the phone was first connected, Seth had listened to Mrs. Smith’s voice describing their new Appaloosa colt. He was so astonished that he couldn’t say a word.
All the neighbors had clamored to be part of the line. Everywhere the barbed-wire fences stretched, neighbor was soon connected to neighbor. Mrs. Bowers even put a switchboard in her house so that callers could be switched from one line to another. Now Seth’s family was even linked by the prairie line to Grandpa and Grandma.
Seth sat up in bed. Grandpa and Grandma! Had something happened to them? Who was calling in the wee hours of the morning? He pulled on his jeans and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
His father was still talking on the telephone. “I’m sure he’ll do it for you. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take him over later today.” He hung the earpiece on its hook, then turned slowly around. “What are you doing up?” he asked Seth in surprise. Dad looked awful.
“What’s happened?” Seth whispered.
His mother stood in the doorway, with baby Janet in her arms. She, too, waited for the answer.
“Grandpa’s had a heart attack,” Father said quietly. “They’re taking him to the hospital in Gillette.”
“Oh, no!” Mother cried. “Is it very bad?”
“He’ll be fine. He just needs rest. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Then he’ll be able to come home.”
Seth felt a little of the worry ease, but he still wished that he could see Grandpa or do something for him. Grandpa was like a best friend. He’d always been there when Seth needed someone to talk to.
“Until he gets strong again, he wants Seth to take care of the farm,” Father added.
“No,” Mother protested. “Seth’s too young to be in charge of a dairy farm.”
“Now, Grace,” Father reassured her, “Dad has already sold most of his cows, and Seth has helped him before. I think that he can do it for a short time. And when I get the roundup and haying finished, I’ll go over every day and give him a hand.”
“But some of those cows are about to calve,” Mother said. “What if something happens?”
Seth tried to think of a way to help persuade her. “I could call you,” he suggested. “The Smith’s have that Model T. Maybe Dad could borrow it in an emergency.” He stood straight and tall. “I want to do this for Grandpa and Grandma, Mom. Please let me.”
She looked lovingly at him. “I forgot about the telephone. Yes, you can go. They’ll need your help until Grandpa can be up and around again, and you’re not so far away, after all, if you can telephone.”
Seth hugged her. Then he ran back to his porch bedroom to pack his bag. He was going to Grandpa’s!
At Grandpa’s farm, Seth found himself faced with a bigger responsibility than he had ever imagined. He worked from before sunup each morning till the last of the milk was separated at night. Tired as he was, he still enjoyed turning the handle on the separator and watching the milk pour out into one bucket while the thick cream came out another spout. Oh how good that cream was on hot oatmeal!
Every night he called his parents just after supper. He felt very important as he cranked the handle around and around until Mrs. Bowers answered. “Good evening, Mrs. Bowers,” he greeted her formally. “Would you switch me to the King home, please?”
“Hello there, Seth,” she answered. “How’s your grandpa?”
He’d chat with her for a few moments while she switched him onto his parents’ line.
Everything was fine until Sweetie decided to be difficult. She’s the most contrary Guernsey cow ever born, Seth thought. Guernseys were known for their placid nature—but not Sweetie. She’d rather kick you than look at you. And now she was calving.
Seth went out to the barn and looked at her. He didn’t know much about it, but he could tell that she was in trouble. Carefully he walked into her stall, talking softly to soothe her. She whirled around and kicked at him. He jumped back, but her hoof grazed his shin.
“Ow!” he yelled and ducked back behind the stall. He rubbed the sore spot, then limped a little on his way back to the house. He cranked the handle on the phone and waited impatiently to talk to his mother. “Mom, Sweetie’s having trouble calving. Is Dad around?”
“Oh, Seth,” Mother said worriedly, “he’s out at roundup and won’t be back till tomorrow.” There was a pause, then she added resolutely, “You’ll just have to do the best you can.”
He felt so alone. “But I don’t know what to do.”
In the silence that followed, Mrs. Bowers spoke up. “Just do what you’ve seen your pa do and then pray!”
When Seth hung up the phone, he didn’t know if he should laugh because Mrs. Bowers had been listening in or cry because he couldn’t do what his dad had done. He was too small. And as for praying, he didn’t even know how. He’d never even been inside a church. He went outside and headed slowly toward the barn.
“Hello there!” a voice called out.
He whirled around and saw two men walking toward him. A tall man in a black coat asked, “Are your folks home?”
He shook his head, too miserable to say anything.
“What’s the matter, son?” the other man asked kindly.
Seth looked up and saw a face full of wrinkles, the kind you get from years of squinting in the sun. It was a face like Grandpa’s—weather-beaten and comfortable.
“Grandpa’s in the hospital, and Sweetie’s calf is turned and can’t be born. She won’t let me near her, and even if she did, I couldn’t help her. Mrs. Bowers said to pray, but I don’t know how. Do you?”
The man’s eyes began to twinkle as the whole sad story tumbled out. “Well,” he said, “first things first. I do know how to pray, and I’ll teach you, but for now let’s look at that cow.”
The man headed for the barn at a brisk walk while stripping off his coat. Taken by surprise, Seth ran along beside him, trying to keep up.
The man knew just what he was doing. When Sweetie lashed a hoof at him, he just chuckled. “Kinda bad tempered for a Guernsey, aren’t you?” He looped a rope on that hoof and tied it down, then patted her and began to work.
Seth couldn’t believe how easy it seemed. In just a short time a little calf lay at their feet, too weak yet to get up. He stared at the new little creature and wondered again at the miracle of birth. Would it live? The man handed him some clean straw. “Rub that calf down with this and dry her off. Then we’ll bring her around to her mama. As soon as she gets some warm milk inside her, she’ll be just fine.”
Seth worked carefully over the calf, then carried her to where Sweetie stood, still tethered, in the corner. The calf bumped her udder and, with tail swishing, drank the strengthening milk.
The man brushed his clothes off. “Do you have a pump I can wash off at?”
“Sure. By the back door,” Seth answered. “Say, thanks, mister. Sweetie is Grandpa’s best milker. That’s how she got her name—for her good cream. He’ll be pleased that she’s all right.”
“You’re welcome, son.” He clapped Seth on the back. “I’m a rancher myself.”
Seth looked up at him, puzzled. “Do you live around here?”
“No. My ranch is on a high desert plateau in Arizona.”
“What are you doing in Wyoming?”
“We’re missionaries of the Lord’s church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Oh, so that’s why you know how to pray.”
The man smiled and began to wash. After he washed and put his jacket on, he turned to the boy. “Now it’s time for that first lesson in prayer.” He bowed his head and addressed Heavenly Father. After he thanked Him for the new little heifer and the young boy who was caring for the farm, he asked for help for Seth and strength for his grandpa.
Seth listened in astonishment. It was so easy! Not much harder than talking to Mother on the prairie line. But did God really listen?
The men left then, promising to return the next day to help with the chores. When Seth reported the day’s events that night on the prairie line, he felt thankful. Then he went into his room, knelt by his bed, and tried to talk to Heavenly Father.
The next morning, he found that the missionaries had returned as promised. They helped him with the milking and other chores, and each day Seth prayed for his grandpa and for help to do the things he had to do. Before long Grandpa came home from the hospital and was feeling much better. Seth was happy to see him, and he told him all about the men who had helped him and taught him how to pray.
Grandpa listened carefully, then said, “I think it’s time you learned more about the Lord’s church.”
Soon after that, Seth and his family went to church with the missionaries, and Seth learned that Heavenly Father really was listening. He never forgot the lesson of the prairie line, the calf, and the two missionaries who had stopped to help. From then on, he knew he could pray whenever he needed help.

In Alvin F. Meredith’s final year of high school in Tennessee, USA, he was selected as his school’s athlete of the year by a group of Christian student athletes.
Shortly afterward, his coach notified him that the state leadership of the group had disqualified him because they didn’t recognize The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a Christian faith.
His coach, “a really good Christian man,” asked the organization to send someone to the school to meet with the young athlete. The organization’s representative came to the high school and explained 10 points of doctrine that he felt justified their decision to disqualify the Latter-day Saint athlete. Upon seeing a Bible in the man’s bag, Elder Meredith asked if the two of them could review some verses.
“We looked at each of those 10 points and went to Chronicles and James and the book of Revelation and Corinthians,” Elder Meredith said. “My faith was challenged, and through the fire of that challenge, it was strengthened and has never wavered since.”

In June 1830 the prophet Joseph Smith’s brother, Samuel, set out on the first missionary journey for the Church. He took with him several copies of the Book of Mormon, but was unsuccessful in his attempts to sell them. He returned home disappointed and discouraged, feeling that his work had proved to be fruitless.

Samuel Smith felt he had been a failure, but the one Book of Mormon he managed to give away made its way into the hands of Brigham Young, who passed it to Heber C Kimball. We too can see amazing results if we but try.

Growing up, I was the third of seven very active children in my family. We lived next door to an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Burrows. As a young boy, I always felt like they weren’t very happy with us. We were loud and rambunctious. Sometimes we would run across their lawn, throw balls over their fence, or make a lot of noise. This often upset them.
My mother went grocery shopping on Saturdays. She often took Mrs. Burrows with her because Mrs. Burrows couldn’t drive. Mom decided that I would go along every Saturday to help push Mrs. Burrows’s cart and lift the bags of groceries into our car.
When I look back, I’m grateful for that opportunity. Mr. and Mrs. Burrows were older and had no children to help them. My mom could have shopped any day of the week, but she chose to do it on Saturday so she could take Mrs. Burrows. I could have been playing with my friends on those Saturdays, but I’m so glad I saw my mom serving Mrs. Burrows and that I had the chance to serve Mrs. Burrows too.
My mother showed me that serving others is a part of who we are as Latter-day Saints. She taught me that we should strive to help others while we take care of ourselves.
Over time, I found that I didn’t hop over the fence as much or make as much noise. I came to love Mr. and Mrs. Burrows as I served them.

In the spring of 2021, our Young Women presidency had the chance to meet the remarkable athletes of the BYU women’s cross-country team. We all know what happened a year earlier, in the spring of 2020. When COVID-19 hit, all sports shut down, and cross-country at BYU was no exception. The coach and the athletes were frustrated. They had prepared for years to compete at this level—now it appeared all opportunity was lost. It seemed as if all they could do was wait. It was during this waiting period of indefinite length that Coach Taylor told her team something powerful. She told them to “win the wait.” That phrase has stayed in my heart and mind ever since I heard it.

Rather than sit back and passively wait out the COVID-19 restrictions, adjustments were made to train differently than they had in the past. Instead of taking a break or easing up on the training schedule, these athletes doubled down and focused. When the wait was over, they were prepared to compete—and win. And that is exactly what happened. When gathering restrictions were lifted, and they could resume competitions again, they went on to win a national championship. They won the wait.

When I was in high school, many of my friends started smoking. I was the only member of the Church who belonged to that group of friends. They knew that I am a member of the Church. One time they asked me why I didn’t smoke. I just smiled and humbly answered, “We know that the Bible says our body is a temple, and it is a special gift given to us. Therefore, we need to love and care for the gift given to us because it comes from God.” They responded by saying that maybe I was right and that we need to care for our bodies. I shared my testimony about the Word of Wisdom with them. If we show care for our bodies, we will be blessed with good health and knowledge. I knew because of the expressions on their faces that they believed what I had shared with them. Since that day I have seen an improvement in them. Sharing your testimony with those who struggle with smoking can help them to choose the right.
Michael T., 18, Palawan, Philippines

David soon discovered that he was the only member of the Church in his new school. With only a small number of students there, David knew he would get more attention from teachers because of the class size, but he didn’t want any special attention from his peers for being a Latter-day Saint.
“I was quiet about my beliefs at the beginning,” he says. “It was a new environment, and I was afraid I would be shunned and it would be hard to make friends.”
Then around his third year in the school, David remembered his priesthood lessons about letting his light shine.
“One time there was a big assembly at the school, and as I was looking around, it struck me that I was the only priesthood holder there,” he says. “The Lord had given me a responsibility, and I wasn’t doing enough.” He knew he had to make his membership in the Church known.
He decided to tell his friends about his standards and beliefs. He says it was harder to live his standards when he didn’t tell anyone about them, but when he made them known, it was easier to live them, and he even received support from his friends.

“My testimony of The Book of Mormon solidified my resolve to serve a mission,” he said.
He was called to serve in the Zimbabwe Harare Mission between 2005 and 2007.
The experience was a sort of fast-tracked course in life lessons.
“They say the growth you experience can only be apparent when you finally return home,” he said. “I believe this is very true. In the two years I spent on mission I believe I gained the experience of life it would take me a lot of years to have through other avenues of life.”
Serving his mission set the tone for his future in terms of leadership, hard work and ambition to succeed both spiritually and temporally.
“I learnt that leadership is not a question of a position, but the ability to influence others through integrity, consistency and a display of genuine care for other people,” said Brother Monesa. His ability to lead and support others has been amplified since his two years in the field. The growth he experienced was a game-changer, he said.
And perhaps most importantly, those two years of full-time service created a foundation for a commitment to the Lord for the rest of his life.
“My commitment to serve the Lord has been resolute since I served a mission,” he said. “I live by the code that as you take care of the Lord’s business, He takes care of yours. I have seen the Lord take care of my business for the past almost three decades and I have no doubt He will continue to do so as I keep my end of the promise,” he said.

In 1993, with the vigor of my newly made attorney’s oath and the energy that came from my recent graduation from law school and passing the bar exam, I received an unanticipated assignment one morning as a brand-new lawyer. That morning I was summoned into my supervising partner’s corner office and assigned my first jury trial—I was only a few months out of law school. Pleadings were complete, discovery had already been accomplished, even pre-trial documents had been submitted.

I should have foreseen what was to come when I picked up the file to prepare for my first meeting with my newly assigned clients and read their name: “The Church of Soldiers of the Cross of Christ.” They were a faith-filled zealous group, deeply committed to their beliefs. I prepared anxiously during every waking hour over the days that followed. Just a week later, I arrived early at the courthouse, filled with nervous tension for the first day of trial when we would argue last-minute motions, conduct jury selection, and give opening statements. It all filled my mind and consumed my thoughts. You know the feeling, kind of like when you show up for a semester-long comprehensive organic chemistry or calculus final exam. Filled with those kinds of feelings, I exited the elevator on the 6th floor of the courthouse. I was immediately met by an angry bailiff. I recall the top of my head came to about the level of the big shiny badge on his uniform. As I looked up at him, he said, with great tension and angst in his quivering voice “Mr. Bangerter, the judge wants you in his chambers now. I will escort you.” Then I saw it. Lining the long courthouse hallway, on both sides, was church member after church member, shoulder to shoulder, and all dressed head to toe in white. They broke out in song singing, “Onward, Christian Soldiers!” as we walked between them. By this point, any confidence I had upon arriving at the courthouse was entirely gone, leaving behind a big empty space that seemed to fill my mind.

As we entered the judge’s chambers, I was greeted by a red-faced, clearly very bothered judge. He yelled, “Mr. Bangerter, what is your church during in my hallways?” My response was immediate. I had feared he would ask a hard question. I felt such relief that the answer came so clearly and easily. I blurted out, “Oh, your honor, it’s not my church, that’s my client. My church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints!” The Judge was disarmed by the candor and naivete of my reply; it seemed to melt his icy countenance. He then smiled and said softly, “Please, Mr. Bangerter, just tell them to leave the courthouse now and let me help you to know how you will do that.” He then got up from his chair, walked around his desk, and sat next to me. He said, “Go out to the hallway, thank them for their support. Ask them respectfully now to go on with their day and help them understand that their numbers would more likely intimidate the jury than endear the jury to them. Go down the stairway with them—lead them. Gather them again, and tell them you will update them every evening on the outcome of the day.”

That day, a judge who could have squashed me, instead took time to lift me. It worked; it worked just as he said it would. I got through that experience, but to this day, the clearest memory I have of that trial happened in the beginning with a judge kindly stepping down from his high position and sitting between me and the opposing attorney bringing peace to my heart and lifting me to accomplish something I did not think I could do.

I learned that day that whatever station or status we achieve in life, we can always take time to pause and lift another. This is God’s pattern. And so, He lifts us in the private times and in the public times of our lives to experience the reality of our own divine heritage.

John Linford was 43 when he and his wife, Maria, and three of their sons made the decision to leave their home in Gravely, England, to journey thousands of miles to join the Saints in the valley of the Great Salt Lake. They left behind their fourth son, who was serving a mission, sold their belongings, and took passage in Liverpool aboard the ship Thornton.
The journey by sea to New York City, and thence by land to Iowa, proved uneventful. Troubles began, however, shortly after the Linfords and other Latter-day Saints who had sailed on the Thornton left Iowa City on July 15, 1856, as part of the ill-fated James G. Willie handcart company.
The harsh weather and arduous travel took their toll on many in the company, including John. He eventually became so ill and weak that he had to be pulled in a handcart. By the time the company reached Wyoming, his condition had deteriorated significantly. A rescue team from Salt Lake City arrived on October 21, just hours after John’s mortal journey ended. He had died early that morning near the banks of the Sweetwater River.
Was John sorry he had traded comfort and ease for the struggles, privations, and hardships of taking his family to Zion?
“No, Maria,” he told his wife just before he died. “I am glad we came. I shall not live to reach Salt Lake, but you and the boys will, and I do not regret all we have gone through if our boys can grow up and raise their families in Zion.”1
Maria and her sons completed their journey. When Maria passed away nearly 30 years later, she and John left behind a legacy of faith, of service, of devotion, and of sacrifice.
Maria Linford never lost her faith despite persecution in England, the hardships of her journey to “the place which God … prepared,”6 and the subsequent trials she endured for her family and the Church.

Eliza R. Snow was one of the great women of the Restoration. She was smart, she was energetic, and she was truly converted to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. But, life in those early days of the LDS church was filled with exhausting, difficult and never-ending tasks—and disappointments. Eliza, herself, would never have children or a home of her own, yet she lived her life—joyously—in the shade of Big Ideas.

Let me show you what I mean by that: In October 1845 she was living in an attic room in Nauvoo. It was a small, difficult to stand up in, and sparsely furnished it must have seemed a discouraging place in the wake of the martyrdom of Joseph Smith and the subsequent pressures and strains on the saints in Nauvoo. It was at this time that she received news of her beloved father’s death. Against that backdrop, using a trunk for a desk, she penned the words that we know as the hymn “O My Father.” It isn’t a litany of her woes; it isn’t small in any way. It is a hymn to the whole glorious plan. She speaks of the pre-existence, she notes that her Heavenly Father placed her on this earth for a wise and glorious purpose. She concludes that when she has completed all you sent me forth to do, with your mutual approbation, let me come and dwell with you.” As you and I see our daily tasks in terms of His Wise and Glorious Purposes, it changes everything!

A day away from the deadline of the indexing campaign for the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, the young single adults from the Barbados Bridgetown Mission joined the indexing effort as part of their historic trip to the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple.
On the eight-day trip that began July 20th and ended on the 28th, they participated not just in daily visits to the temple but also in different learning experiences such as this.
Helping the area achieve the goal of indexing 800,000 names from civil records for the Church’s family history archives was an added bonus to the experience of coming to the temple for the first time.
Under the direction of the Caribbean Area Presidency and with inspiration from Elder Quentin L. Cook’s visit, Elder Claude Gamiette brought together the joint forces of the young single adults from the Barbados Bridgetown Mission to “strengthen the membership of the Church among them as future leaders.”
With the help of Brother Gerald Kahne, a newly called indexing director for the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo Stake, these young single adults also began their indexing experience for the first time.
Brother Kahne shares, “This is a tool that helps people connect not only to their ancestors but also to the history of the lives of people they would not get to know if it had not been for this experience.”
The YSA came in one by one, sat on their designated seats, and began to explore their assignments. Many had never indexed, and some hadn’t even opened a FamilySearch.org account.
Many expressed their struggle to understand the process at first, but their satisfaction at being included in this project was evident as the first 100 names from the U.S Indiana World War II draft registration cards from 1940–1945 were completed.
Brother Kahne, who assisted the young single adults in the process, understood their concerns and worries.
‘When I did indexing for the first time, I was a member of the ward that had done the most indexing. I remember about 100,000 names had been indexed in Belgium, but I thought it was an experience that older people did in dark rooms with microfilms, so I thought that it was boring—until I started. I understand now that if someone had invited me, I would have done it before. Today I know that everyone should have this experience. I have seen so many people return to the Church and many who have become friends of the Church and have received so many blessings because of indexing,” he said.
The satisfaction expressed by Zariah Inniss, a 21-year-old youth Sunday School teacher from Barbados, as she finished her experience was infectious. A consistent smile never left her face throughout the process as she looked at the screen with an expression of joy from the work done.
“We feel grateful for this activity, for the enthusiasm that we felt at the end of the day after helping bring families together on both sides of the veil that will later become cards for ordinances in the temple,” said Brother Rufino Díaz, family history manager for the Caribbean Area.

On the night of July 4, 2002, my friend and I attended our Book of Mormon institute class. We stayed after class talking until we noticed that it had gotten late. We began walking home around 10:15, and when we got to the place where we were to split up, we stopped and continued to talk.
Two men passed by and asked us what time it was, but we were so involved in our conversation that we barely heard them. Suddenly they came back. One of them threw his arms around me, putting a knife to my neck. Then he let me go and threatened my friend. The other man asked us for money, and when we said we didn’t have any, they were furious. They demanded our jackets and backpacks.
I had wanted this jacket for a long time and had finally been able to buy it a month before. And I loved my backpack, which my older brother had given me. My friend had homework assignments in her backpack that she needed to turn in. I was really scared—almost frozen in place. It was the first time I had ever been robbed.
Without hesitation we gave them our things. But suddenly I said, “Wait! Please let me take out my Book of Mormon! It’s the only thing of value I have.” The thief gave me a strange look and let me take it out. Then they fled.
I hugged the book and didn’t care about anything else. I felt peace because I had rescued this precious book from two criminals.

That was it. I received my papers; it was all on. It was around Christmas 1996 when I thought I’d better let the family know what was happening. I decided I’d tell everyone over Sunday dinner. As we were sitting at the table my sister said she had something to tell everyone: she’d been thinking of changing careers from a hairdresser to a beauty therapist, thus needing to give up her job and go to college. Everyone was happy about her decision. Then it was my turn. I told them I also had something to say. I told them that I was planning to go on a mission. A look of disbelief and surprise appeared on every face. I told them, “No one is more surprised than me.” Then between Christmas and New Years, a quiet holiday period, I managed to get all my medical and dental appointments arranged. Within three days my papers were ready. When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.
Over the next few months, I started shopping for my mission attire. Coming from Scotland, I’m no stranger to cold weather so I was going to be well prepared. But every time I went to buy something like a winter coat, big woolly jumpers, hat, scarves, or gloves, I’d get the answer, “No!” I’d leave it a couple of days then go elsewhere. Again, the answer would be “No! Don’t buy that.” I couldn’t believe I was being prompted to buy certain clothes.
The promptings were very specific. I’d pick up clothes and I’d hold the hanger and wait for a yes or a no. I obediently bought according to those promptings. When I look back, I can’t believe how much the Holy Ghost kept prompting me and specifically telling me things each day—I was not asking for such clarity. I’ve never experienced this level of prompting ever since. That was how it was supposed to be—minute detail.
One morning I went downstairs and there on the carpet was the big fat white envelope. My heart leapt. I quickly grabbed it and immediately locked myself in the bathroom. I have a big family, and someone could have been lurking; I wanted to open it on my own.
I stared at the envelope, scared to open it. I kept thinking that it held the next 18 months of my life, my future. I was very anxious. I eventually opened it and scoured through the first few lines. I just wanted to know where I was going—it was the Greece Athens Mission. I’d never heard of this mission. I’d never heard of anyone even going to this mission. I would later find out that I was the first Scottish sister to go there. How cool! I would learn to speak Greek. l would serve my mission during one of the hottest summers they’d had, and another summer the following year. Greece was indeed a different, unusual place. The gospel was still in its infancy there; it had only been dedicated 25 years previously by Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008).
I served my mission from May 1997 to November 1998. It was one of the best experiences of my life! I can’t believe that I hadn’t wanted to go. I could quite easily have missed out on this crucial experience. It was meant to be. I would never have chosen that path but it’s what Heavenly Father knew was right for me. Greece will always be a special place with special memories for me. Whenever I go back to visit, I get ‘goose bumps’ and butterflies in my stomach. When I left my mission, I left a part of my heart there, and there it will stay. It brought me so much happiness. It shaped my future. It put me on the right path, in the right direction. It was priceless. I loved it. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. It changed me for the better. My favourite word is fantastic, and Greece was fantastic!

Nell was so excited she could hardly wait to change her Sunday clothes and run out to tell Dad what she had learned at conference. She didn’t even take time to put on her shoes, but ran barefoot across the dusty yard.
It was June 1899. There had been no rain in southern Utah for more than two years. The streams and even the wells around St. George had dried up. No crops could grow without water, and thousands of cattle had died on the range. Some of the families had already moved, and now Dad was also preparing to leave. Earlier that morning he had decided he was too busy packing the wagon to go to conference, even though President Lorenzo Snow had come all the way from Salt Lake City to talk to the people.
“Dad! Oh, Dad!” Nell called as she ran to him. “You can take our things out of the wagon. We don’t have to leave! In conference today President Snow said if the people will pay their tithing and plant their fields, the rains will come and we’ll have food.”
But Dad didn’t seem to understand. He just shook his head and sat down on the tongue of the wagon, staring out across the barren fields.
Dad had explained again and again that they could not live through another year without rain. There was very little food on their pantry shelves, and all the money that was left was the twenty dollars Grandfather had given to Nell.
Later that evening as Dad was washing up for dinner, Nell overheard him tell Mother they should all be ready to start at six the next morning. “We can make Thomson’s ranch by noon if we do,” he said.
The family sat down to a simple meal. No one spoke. Nell felt so sad she could hardly choke down the food. Finally she swallowed hard and said, “Grandfather once told me a story about how the people were blessed by doing exactly as Brigham Young asked them to do.”
Her father and mother stopped eating to listen as Nell continued, “When I said I wished I had lived then so I could have followed a prophet, Grandfather said that President Snow is our prophet today just like Brigham Young was then and that we should all follow him.”
After Nell finished telling the story, she asked Dad to take her precious twenty dollars. “You can give it to Bishop Thorne,” she explained, “to help bring rain to St. George!”
Early the next morning Nell looked out the window and saw a great cloud of dust blowing at the far end of the field. She dressed quickly and ran out across the dry ground.
When Dad saw her, he stopped the horses and held out his arms. Nell flew into them and he held her close. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said. “I thought you’d never get here in time to help me plow the field and plant our seeds!”
During the hot dry weeks that followed, the people of St. George anxiously scanned the cloudless sky and sadly shook their heads. But neither Nell nor her father were at all surprised when on the second of August it began to rain.

Let me use an illustration of how this may work in a personal setting. With permission, I share with you a story from Arlene Sewell told at a devotional in 2023. She shared how she received a job announcement from a friend that knew she would one day love to come back to BYU–Hawaii and serve as their chief information officer. She let the email sit for about a week but began to pray about it. “The more I prayed the more I felt to just apply. So, I did, and to much surprise I got a call that same week asking me how interested I was in moving to Hawaii and in the position. I was then fortunate to get a call to schedule my first interview and then my second interview.” She reasoned that “even if I don’t get the job at least we were able to get a free trip to Hawaii.”

She continued, “Meeting my future team in my interviews felt right. But I was torn with the responsibilities of taking care of my mother, the distance from my children and grandchildren, and missing out on my youngest son’s collegiate football games. On the second day of interviews, I woke up early to go running. I remember sitting in front of the temple and was torn on how this decision would affect my family... As I sat in front of the temple, I thought, ‘Lord if you need me here, please help me to balance my time ... and provide for my [family].’”

Later that month, she received a call and was offered the position to serve as the new CIO. She shared, “With much prayer and thought my husband and I felt that it was the right decision.” I love how Arlene concluded that “It may not have made logical sense, but it made spiritual sense.”

I was invited to go on a camping trip with all the priests in my stake the summer before I left for college. I had just recently come back to Church after three years away. I had an extremely small testimony when I arrived at the stake center ready to go camping. I cared more about sleeping and remote-control cars than I did about the Lord. I had no clue what the trip was about, but I knew deep down I needed to go on it.
Through the entire trip my testimony kept strengthening. Every experience I had kept pushing me forward. I broke down in tears daily as I felt the Spirit touch me. On the last day of the trip, all the dirty and smelly priests gathered in the smallest branch meetinghouse I had ever seen. One by one we all shared our testimonies. When it was my turn to stand up, I felt the Spirit so strongly I started shaking. I could not stop crying, but I knew I was doing the right thing. I needed to share the testimony I had gained on this trip.
All the boys from my ward turned around and looked at me as I shared the precious gift I had been given. I could see they felt the Spirit, and this made the Spirit feel even stronger within me. I then knew, without a doubt, I was a child of God, and I had made the right decision to be baptized into the true Church of God. I knew at that moment I needed to become the best person I could be, so I would be able to be a loyal servant in the hands of the Lord.
I will always remember the looks on the faces of the priests in my ward as I shared my testimony that day. Every time I look back at that moment, I am touched by the Spirit. I had never borne my testimony before that day, nor had I received one I could share. But in that week I had grown more than I had grown since I was baptized six years earlier. I experienced the change of heart I had only read about. I had become fully converted.

For example, I have a sweet Aunt Beryl Hollindrake. She told me that when she was just three or four years old that my great-grandmother, her Grandmother Featherstone, would hold her on her lap and tell her about the Savior, all the beautiful stories. Then she would recall how my great-grandmother would tell her about the Savior’s trial and how they beat him and cursed him and spit upon him—how they dragged him and forced him against the cross and drove huge spikes into his hands cruelly. She said, “As my grandmother would tell me these stories, tears would stream down her cheeks.” And she said, “It was on the lap of my grandmother that I learned to love the Savior with all my heart and soul.”

A few years ago, I was working in a country and city I had never been to before. Everything in my environment was new and foreign. I got lost on my way to church, driving through pouring rain on what was the wrong side of the road for me, and ended up getting to the church house as the congregation was singing the closing hymn. What I heard coming from the building as I stepped out of the car into the rain were the voices of the congregation singing “We Thank Thee O God for a Prophet.” Suddenly this congregation became dear to me. We were no longer strangers, but sisters and brothers in Christ. Hymn singing has the power—if we all allow it—to unify people of faith all around the world!