Gospel Story Finder

In April of 2000, I felt such direction. I had received a phone call from Rosa Salas Gifford, whom I did not know. She explained that her parents had been visiting from Costa Rica for a few months and that just a week prior to her call, her father, Bernardo Agusto Salas, had been diagnosed with liver cancer. She indicated that the doctors had informed the family that her father would live just a few more days. Her father’s great desire, she explained, was to meet me before he died. She left her address and asked if I could come to her home in Salt Lake City to visit with her father.

Because of meetings and obligations, it was rather late when I left my office. Instead of going straight home, however, I felt impressed that I should drive further south and visit Brother Salas that very evening. With the address in hand, I attempted to locate the residence. In rather heavy traffic and with dimming light, I drove past the location where the road to the house should have been. I could see nothing. However, I don’t give up easily. I drove around the block and came back. Still nothing. One more time I tried and still no sign of the road. I began to feel that I would be justified in turning toward home. I had made a gallant effort but had been unsuccessful in finding the address. Instead, I offered a silent prayer for help. The inspiration came that I should approach the area from the opposite direction. I drove a distance and turned the car around so that I was now on the other side of the road. Going in this direction, the traffic was much lighter. As I neared the location once again, I could see, through the faint light, a street sign that had been knocked down—it was lying on its side at the edge of the road—and a nearly invisible, weed-covered track leading to a small apartment building and a single, tiny residence some distance from the main road. As I drove toward the buildings, a small girl in a white dress waved to me, and I knew that I had found the family.

I was ushered into the home and then to the room where Brother Salas lay. Surrounding the bed were three daughters and a son-in-law, as well as Sister Salas. All but the son-in-law were from Costa Rica. Brother Salas’s appearance reflected the gravity of his condition. A damp rag with frayed edges—not a towel or a washcloth but a damp rag with frayed edges—rested upon his forehead, emphasizing the humble economic circumstances of the family.

With some prompting, Brother Salas opened his eyes, and a wan smile graced his lips as I took him by the hand. I spoke the words, “I have come to meet you.” Tears welled up in his eyes and in mine.

I asked if a blessing would be desired, and the unanimous answer from the family members was affirmative. Since the son-in-law did not hold the priesthood, I proceeded by myself to provide a priesthood blessing. The words seemed to flow freely under the direction of the Spirit of the Lord. I included the Savior’s words found in the Doctrine and Covenants, section 84, verse 88: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.” Following the blessing, I offered a few words of comfort to the grieving family members. I spoke carefully so they could understand my English. And then, with my limited Spanish language ability, I let them know that I loved them and that our Heavenly Father would bless them.

I asked for the family Bible and directed their attention to 3 John, verse 4: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.” I said to them, “This is what your husband and father would have you remember as he prepares to depart this earthly existence.”

With tears streaming down her face, Brother Salas’s sweet wife then asked if I would write down the references for the two scriptures I had shared with them so that the family might read them again. Not having anything handy on which I could write, Sister Salas reached into her purse and drew from it a slip of paper. As I took it from her, I noticed it was a tithing receipt. My heart was touched as I realized that, despite the extremely humble circumstances in which the family lived, they were faithful in paying their tithes.

After a tender farewell, I was escorted to my car. As I drove homeward, I reflected on the special spirit we had felt. I experienced, as well, as I have many times before, a sense of gratitude that my Heavenly Father had answered another person’s prayer through me.

Let me share a personal example of this truth. I distinctly recall a time when I received a prompting in answer to mighty prayer. The answer was clear and powerful. However, I failed to act immediately on the prompting, and after a period of time I began to wonder if what I had felt had been real. Some of you may have fallen for that deception of the adversary as well.
Several days later, I awoke with these powerful verses of scripture in my mind:
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart. …
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?”7
It was as if the Lord was saying, “Now, Ronald, I already told you what you needed to do. Now do it!” How grateful I was for that loving correction and direction! I was immediately comforted by the prompting and was able to move forward, knowing in my heart that my prayer had been answered.
I share this experience, dear brothers and sisters, to demonstrate how quickly our minds can forget and how spiritual experiences guide us. I have learned to cherish such moments “lest I forget.”

Many years after my first mission and while I served as mission president, an elder came to me and said that he did not know the Church was true. Because of that he wanted to return home. I pleaded with him to not do so stating, “You can’t learn the Church is true if in the back of your mind you’re thinking ‘I’m going to go home.’ By such lack of faith you cast out of your heart the very seed that could bring you the answer that you seek. First of all you’ve got to say ‘I’m going to stay. Whether or not the Church is true is beside the point. I’m staying.’” In summary I told him that the seed to plant in his heart was the seed of commitment to stay and serve, and the harvest that would grow was the sweet fruit of testimony.

The answer to your question “How can I be sure?” is simple. You’ve got to dive into the work. The fact that you think the Church is true shows that you’ve got at least your toe in the water. Now to be sure, you must dive completely in. Some want to know that the gospel is true before they dive in. They don’t want to get wet for nothing. But for me, I had to get wet first and then I knew. I believe to get the answers which you seek you will have to do the same thing.

You could reply, “I’ve tried all that.” I’d respond, “Well, try it some more.” There’s no other way. Dive in and ask the Lord if it is right. Make an effort to learn the truth. Don’t “sit” and ask the Lord for a testimony. Instead, “do” and ask the Lord for a testimony. Thrust in your sickle, and you’ll find some spiritual wheat to cut. Don’t expect the wheat to appear before you begin to cut. Have faith and be believing.

Don’t make a headlong confrontation out of your spiritual quest to know that the Church is true. That is like trying to pull a tender plant to its mature size. Let it grow naturally and surely. Don’t expect to reach the mountain peaks without being willing to climb the foothills. Life is like a cloth, and you can’t just sit and weave spirituality without weaving the rest of the fabric of daily life. You don’t have to go out of your way or say endlessly long prayers. You don’t have to travel to a distant land to find a service project. You just pray as you go and serve as you go and commit yourself to seeing how you can make yourself a better person and whatever part of the world you happen to be in a happier place. It’s how you treat your parents, how you treat your associates, how you serve them that creates the warm soil in which spiritual seeds can grow.

Walk forward into life. Hold your head high enough to see ahead but not so high that you can’t see those who need help. Say your prayers often and include among your statements of gratitude, thanksgiving, and devotion a simple request for spiritual confirmation to your questions, hopes, and desires. Keep a prayer in your heart always.

Make a commitment to serve, to love, to study, to pray. God will reach down and touch you, and the Holy Ghost will testify to your soul that Jesus is the Christ, that Joseph Smith did see him and the Father, that the Book of Mormon is true, that the gospel has been restored. Then you’ll know that Jesus Christ atoned for our sins and that through the holy ordinances administered by the priesthood of his restored church we can become clean and thus candidates for the celestial kingdom.

It’s that simple. It really is. If you make it more complicated, you’ll be ever learning but never come to a knowledge of the truth. It’s simple, but it is difficult in that it requires a whole soul effort. Where much is given much is expected.

Dive in. Plant the seeds. Nourish them. Then someday, someday soon, you’ll know the truth and you’ll be free to know and be all that you and God, our Heavenly Father, desire you to be. The answer to your question is indeed the key which will open the door to your eternal future. What you seek is worth all you have, for it is indeed the pearl of great price.

I was having a hard day and had some troubling questions on my mind, so I decided to read my scriptures. Suddenly I felt like I should read the New Era, so I started reading the June issue and read “My Journey to Faith.” The last sentence really stood out to me: “I know that Heavenly Father loves each one of us and answers our prayers if we have faith in Him.” So I decided to pray about what was worrying me and trust that God would help me. Ever since, I’ve been at peace. Thank you so much!Karen A., Wyoming

Q. Tell us about your conversion and baptism.
A. I went to a dance one night with my miss. As we were dancing, I saw this girl. Later I danced with her and asked where she came from. She told me she was a Mormon from Salt Lake City, and I thought, “Oh, crumb, what have I got here?”
We talked on a while and she made a profound impression on me—it was just the way she talked. She didn’t talk about religion or she didn’t stuff it down my throat, but I could just tell by her words that she had very high standards, and I liked her. She was a student and was only passing through Belfast. She hadn’t even intended to come to Belfast, but for some reason she did and we met.
She went on to tour Europe, and we corresponded. On the way back she stopped in England, and I went over and saw her there for a week. She had a tremendous effect on me, and I started thinking about the Church. After I came back from England, about a month later, the missionaries called. It had nothing to do with her—it just happened that the missionaries called. At the time it seemed so fantastic, but looking back on it, I’m sure it was all meant to be—you know, the way it happened.
The missionaries must have called six times to find me at home. They kept coming back because my mother told them I might be interested in the Church. One missionary had a profound influence on me, too. He was a tremendous character and I really got to like him. Without the girl I wouldn’t have been interested, and if another missionary had contacted me, he might not have reached me. I joined the Church on December 4, 1969, and I was lucky that my missionaries stuck by me. Some get moved on and sort of lose contact with their investigators, and the people fall by. The missionaries stayed with me until I got my feet on the ground, and then I was lucky to make friends in the Church quite quickly and easily.

Claudia also explains another time when it’s impossible not to feel the spirit of Huntsville.
“Once a year, all the girls in the city dress up like Southern belles, in fancy dresses with hoop skirts. The boys dress up like Rebel soldiers or Southern gentlemen. They light candles all around town as a reminder of all the cities that were burned during the Civil War, as the Northerners marched to the sea.”
Huntsville, though, was spared.
“The general who was supposed to burn the city fell in love with a young woman who lived here, so he spared the town. After the war, he came back and married her, and they lived in Huntsville.”
Their former home is still a landmark.

Shortly after Nikki joined the Church, she was watching general conference and a talk by Elder David A. Bednar titled “We Will Prove Them Herewith,” moved her to pay closer attention to what the Lord’s Apostle was saying.
The part regarding food storage particularly caught Nikki’s attention. After conference, she was prompted to phone her family in the Philippines to share what she had learned with them. Her family are not members of the Church and weren’t at all happy when Nikki wanted to join the Church. In fact, they were so upset about it that they wanted her to return to the Philippines.
However, her father, who Nikki said, is a very organised man and strives to be prepared, was particularly interested in what his daughter was saying.
Nikki said that during their previous phone conversations he would always ask her “How’s your ‘go to’ bag?”, “Do you have enough batteries?” and similar questions.
What Nikki was sharing with her family was therefore of great interest to her father.
Nikki said he acted immediately and began to buy the items they talked about and those listed on a Church food storage information sheet which she sent him.
About three weeks later, a series of typhoons ravaged their region. The people of their village could not get out of their homes for about four days and their phone lines were cut off.
Nikki was extremely worried about her parents and sister during this time and became frantic when she couldn’t contact them. Not knowing whether they were alive and safe was taking its toll on her.
When Nikki was finally able to get in contact with her family, she was incredibly relieved to know they were all safe.
Nikki was also humbled and brought to tears when she heard that her family had heeded her words regarding food storage and her mother and father, who lived on a farm, not only had enough for their needs but were also able to help their neighbours with the food storage they had accumulated in that short time.
Nikki’s sister who lived by herself on the top level of a two-story house was also caught up in the storm. The people who lived on the ground floor were seeking refuge because their home had been completely flooded.
Not only was Nikki’s sister able to provide them with safe shelter in her first-floor apartment but she was also able to feed them with the food storage she too had built up thanks to Nikki’s inspiration to share with her family what she heard from an Apostle of Jesus Christ.

Some years ago, one of our young married daughters and her husband asked Sister Rasband and me a very important, life-influencing question: “Is it still safe and wise to bring children into this seemingly wicked and frightening world we live in?”
Now, that was an important question for a mom and dad to consider with their dear married children. We could hear the fear in their voices and feel the fear in their hearts. Our answer to them was a firm “Yes, it’s more than OK,” as we shared fundamental gospel teachings and our own heartfelt impressions and life experiences.
Now, what about that daughter and son-in-law who asked the very heartfelt and probing, fear-based question years ago? They seriously considered our conversation that night; they prayed and fasted and came to their own conclusions. Happily and joyfully for them and for us, the grandparents, they have now been blessed with seven beautiful children as they go forward in faith and love.

But changing colors is not the only unusual feat performed by octopuses. Since they have no bones, they can also dramatically change their shape and squeeze through extremely small openings. The story is told of a naturalist who caught an octopus about a foot long. He put it in a wicker basket and went for a ride on the streetcar with it. About ten minutes later there came a bloodcurdling scream from the other end of the car. Sure enough, the octopus had squeezed through a half-inch crack in the basket and was now sitting on the lap of a hysterical passenger.

Naledi Mqokozo has been coming to the temple grounds since she was small. And now that she is older and often in the temple, you could say the temple is in her—in her heart and in her thoughts. “I have a picture in my room of the Johannesburg temple,” says Naledi, 17. “I put the picture up on my wall so I can always think clean thoughts and help keep the presence of the Spirit.”
It’s a little rainy on this morning in Johannesburg, South Africa. But the rain has not dampened the happy mood of Naledi and the other youth from the Ennerdale Branch, Johannesburg South Africa Stake, who have come to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead. Naledi is here because she “wanted an opportunity to see the temple again and to experience the Spirit of the Lord.” To Naledi, a day at the temple is not just another day. “This is a special occasion and a special moment,” she says, “so we should dress and act in a special way.”
Naledi understands that the temple is a sacred place: “We should be very reverent in the temple because it is the house of God and it has the Holy Spirit inside. So we should prepare ourselves and carry ourselves in a moral way and be very clean and respectful.”

Jake looked through his bag of marbles. He had bumblebee marbles and cat’s-eyes. None would do. He opened a box and picked a sparkly stone out of his rock collection. He tossed it back. He wanted to find something super special for Nana’s birthday.
Nana, Jake’s grandmother, lived with him and his mom and dad because she needed help. Her legs were not strong, and she used a wheelchair. Jake loved having Nana nearby. She was never too busy to play checkers, and she showed him how to do magic tricks. Best of all, Nana told him stories about all the seashells on her bedroom shelf. Nana had loved walking along the seashore.
Thinking about the different things Nana liked, Jake searched his room again. He found his glow-in-the-dark yo-yo, a baseball cap, and his toy spaceship. But Nana liked seashells and the seashore. What could he do?
Jake put on his jacket and went outside. Maybe he could find some pretty flowers or a four-leaf clover. He looked all over his grassy yard, but he found only three-leaf clovers and lots of dandelions. Finally he plopped down in his sandbox to think some more. He took off his shoes and dug his feet into the sand. It tickled his toes. No wonder Nana had liked walking along the seashore. Suddenly Jake knew the best gift for Nana. He put on his shoes and hurried off to find a box.
Before long, Jake had a big present waiting for Nana on the table.
“Happy Birthday!” Jake yelled as Nana opened the package.
“What is this?” Nana asked, peeking inside. “Is this a box full of sand?”
“No,” giggled Jake. “It’s a box full of seashore!” Dad helped Jake put the box on the floor. Jake took off Nana’s slippers and put her bare feet in the sand.
“Oh my!” Nana smiled. She closed her eyes. “This is wonderful! I feel like I’m walking along the seashore again.”
Jake smiled too. He had done lots of looking and thinking, but at last he had found the perfect present. Now Nana could enjoy the sandy seashore every day, even while she was sitting in her wheelchair.

My daughter’s funeral was beautiful. There was a lot of laughter mixed with tears, and the Spirit was very much present. My oldest daughter, Victoria, traveled back to Utah from another state. She wrote a song and performed it at the funeral.
I was never approached about the funeral costs except to be informed it was being handled. Within a few weeks the funeral had been paid in full by donations from Church members.

Like most boys from Whitney, “T” had a desire to share the gospel himself. As a child, he had sat in Sunday School listening to returned missionaries tell about the “happiest two years” of their lives. Even when they reported persecutions it only fed the missionary flame within his young heart. Later, he went to the stake patriarch for a blessing. “Brother Dalley very slowly pronounced a blessing upon my head, which included an answer to a boy’s prayer. I was promised, if faithful of course, that I would go on a mission to the nations of the earth and would raise my voice in testimony and that many would rise up and bless my name because of my influence in helping to bring them into the Church.

“I went home walking on air, I was so happy. I had no doubt but what I would someday go on a mission.”

Lucy prepared herself early in her marriage to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “the Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, by His Mother, Lucy Mack Smith, ed. Preston Nibley, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1979, p. 34).

Melissa decided to try one more time to save her marriage, which seemed distant and disconnected. That’s when her husband, Cameron, told her honestly about his pornography use. At her urging, he agreed to tell the bishop, and eventually they both talked to their parents. But, as he explains, it “took two years to finally see that there was more to repentance than telling a few people and saying a prayer.” He had to learn that not looking at pornography wasn’t enough. To truly be in a state of recovery, he had to turn to God and find healthy ways to deal with the stress, fear, shame, and anxiety that triggered his craving to look at pornography.
After a relapse, Cameron agreed to attend an addiction recovery program and, over time, has come to understand that the Savior does not give up on us as soon as we make a mistake.
Through also attending a 12-step program, Melissa feels that her family finally has the tools to move forward. She remembers how difficult the 12-step meetings were in the beginning, but she was motivated by a facilitator who suggested that Melissa “try us for 90 days. If you don’t like us, we’ll refund your misery.” Melissa eventually realized that just as she felt hope from others’ stories, maybe she could help others feel hope by sharing her experiences.
Melissa used to believe that if she stayed married, she would only pretend to be happy. Her perspective changed when she realized that the Savior saw potential in her, in Cameron, and in all of Father in Heaven’s children. He put all He is—the Light and the Life of the World—into saving us and giving us another chance. Because of the Savior, Melissa says, she can now smile in a genuine, I’m-happy-to-be-alive way.
Melissa and Cameron remain married and work to live in recovery.

Cammie’s mouth watered as she watched Leanne pass out her birthday treat—cupcakes trimmed with candies. She watched Leanne place one with purple candies on Josh’s desk, a huge one with pink candies on Shelly’s desk, and another one with chocolate candies on Nick’s desk. Cammie could hardly wait to see which one Leanne would give her. As she approached Cammie, Leanne frowned at her. “I know we’re not good friends, but she’ll still give me a good cupcake,” Cammie thought.
Leanne looked over the few cupcakes left in the box and selected a tiny squashed cupcake with only one candy on it. Looking down at the floor, she plopped that one onto Cammie’s desk. All the kids in Cammie’s row looked at her and whispered to each other. Cammie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “I won’t cry,” she told herself. “Leanne’s just a snob. She won’t play with anyone but her own group of friends.” Cammie bit her lip and stared straight ahead.
After class, on the playground, Cammie talked to her best friend, Becky, about what had happened. “Just wait until my birthday next week,” Cammie said. “I’ll have something really special for my treat and I won’t give her any, or I’ll give her a really ugly one. Then she can see how it feels.”
That evening Cammie and her mom planned the treat Cammie would take to school the following week. Since Cammie loved chocolate, they decided on chocolate chip cookies.
“Mom, can we decorate them with lots of chocolate candies?” Cammie asked.
“Sure, that would look nice,” her mom answered. “You can put them on yourself, if you’d like.”
“Oh, I’ll put them on all right,” Cammie thought. “I’ll make Leanne’s really special.”
The following week, Cammie nibbled on chocolate candies as she helped her mom bake the cookies. “Don’t eat them all before you decorate the cookies.” Mom laughed.
Cammie grinned and pushed the bowl of candies away. She spent the next hour carefully placing candies on each cookie as it came out hot and gooey from the oven. She put a variety of colors on some cookies and only blue and red or yellow and brown on some. She made a special one for Becky. Soon there were only a few cookies left to decorate.
“Now, for the one to give Leanne,” Cammie thought. She found a small, lopsided cookie and squished it in the middle, leaving a dent. Then she picked a misshapen chocolate candy and plunked it down on top of the small, crooked cookie. “That will serve her right,” Cammie thought.
After she said her prayers that night, Cammie lay awake thinking about how awful Leanne would feel the next morning. Thinking about it made Cammie feel bad all over again. “Should I do it? Am I doing the right thing?” she wondered. Finally she fell asleep, undecided.
At school the next day, Cammie’s class looked excitedly at the giant cookies with their bright trimmings. Cammie made a special effort to show them to Leanne. Leanne just sniffed and said, “They’re OK.” Then she sneaked another peek at the cookies. Cammie smiled to herself.
“All right, children, we have another birthday treat today,” the teacher announced. “Cammie, would you pass out your treat? My, it looks delicious.”
Cammie started passing out the cookies, not paying much attention to who got each one. “That way no one feels bad,” she thought. “No one but Leanne.” Leanne slid down in her seat with an uneasy look on her face.
Soon Cammie had passed out all but the last three cookies. Only two students remained: Leanne and Jody. Cammie gave a huge one to Jody, then turned to look right into Leanne’s eyes. When she saw how unhappy Leanne looked, she remembered what she had been thinking about the night before. Cammie knew how Leanne felt. She took a step forward and moved her hand toward the ugly little cookie. She froze as she saw a pleading look and tears in Leanne’s eyes.
“She did the same thing to me first,” a little voice inside her said. “But you know how it feels. Do you want to make someone else feel that way, too?” she thought. Suddenly the words, “‘Love your enemies’” and “‘do good to them that hate you,’”* came into her mind. Would she really feel better by making Leanne feel bad?
“Are you almost finished, Cammie?” her teacher asked as Cammie hesitated.
Cammie slowly picked up the bigger cookie, one with many colored candies on it, and placed it carefully on Leanne’s desk. “I made this one especially for you,” she said. Leanne’s mouth dropped open as she stared up at Cammie. Then Cammie returned to her desk and ate the squished little cookie herself. She had never tasted a better cookie.

I have always admired my great-grandmother Mary Bommeli’s devotion to sharing the doctrine of Jesus Christ. Her family was taught by missionaries in Switzerland when she was 24.

After being baptized, Mary desired to join the Saints in America, so she made her way from Switzerland to Berlin and found work with a woman who employed her to weave cloth for the family’s clothing. Mary lived in a servant’s room and set up her loom in the home’s living area.

At that time, teaching the doctrine of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was illegal in Berlin. But Mary found she could not keep from sharing the things she had learned. The woman of the house and her friends would gather around the loom to hear Mary teach. She spoke of the appearance of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to Joseph Smith, the visitation of angels, and the Book of Mormon. Remembering the accounts of Alma, she taught about the doctrine of the Resurrection. She testified that families can be reunited in the celestial kingdom.

Mary’s enthusiasm to share the doctrine of the restored gospel soon caused trouble. It was not long before the police took Mary off to jail. On the way, she asked the policeman for the name of the judge she was to appear before the next morning. She also asked about his family and if he was a good father and husband. The policeman described the judge as a man of the world.

In the jail, Mary requested a pencil and some paper. She spent the night writing a letter to the judge, bearing witness to the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as described in the Book of Mormon, discussing the spirit world, and explaining repentance. She suggested that the judge would need time to reflect on his life before facing final judgment. She wrote that she knew he had much to repent of, much which would deeply sadden his family and bring him great sorrow. In the morning, when she had finished her letter, she gave it to the policeman and asked him to deliver it to the judge, and he agreed to do so.

Later, the policeman was summoned by the judge to his office. The letter Mary had written was irrefutable evidence that she was teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel and, by so doing, breaking the law. However, it wasn’t long before the policeman returned to Mary’s cell. He told her that all charges were dismissed and that she was free to go. Her teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had caused her to be cast into jail. And her declaring the doctrine of repentance to the judge got her cast out of jail.

Mary Bommeli’s teaching did not end with her release. The record of her words passed true doctrine down through generations yet unborn. Her belief that even a new convert could teach the doctrine of Jesus Christ has ensured that her descendants will be strengthened in their own battles.

Although I had heard about full-time missions ever since I was a child, I could not make up my mind about serving a mission. That changed when my father accepted a call to serve in the bishopric of our ward. This was a difficult decision for my father, since he was deeply involved in my sporting career. He was always at my football practice and matches, and we spent a lot of time together. For this reason, accepting a call to serve in the bishopric would mean giving up time supporting my career.
During the sacrament meeting when my father was sustained, a powerful thought came into my mind, telling me that the sacrifices of others would be in vain if I was not willing to sacrifice important things for the right reasons. During the testimonies, someone spoke about the idea that if we are obedient, our families can be eternal. That thought touched my heart, and I decided that I would do whatever was in my power to be with my family forever. During the classes that Sunday, the importance of obeying the commandments was brought up numerous times. So strongly did I feel the Spirit prompting me to serve the Lord that during family home evening, I informed my family of my decision to serve a mission.
My decision meant that I would have to interrupt my college education as well as resolve the five-year contract that I had with my football club. From the start, the Lord opened doors and touched hearts so the contract could be resolved.
After I submitted my missionary papers, I listened to the April 2011 general conference, in which Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared the missionary experience of Sidney Going, who had been a professional rugby player and a member of New Zealand’s national team. The fact that Brother Going served a mission and later returned and continued his professional career taught me a lesson. Throughout my mission and until this very day, listening to that talk time and time again has blessed me and brought peace to my heart. The countless testimonies that family, ward, and stake members shared with me at different times not only strengthened my decision to serve but also sustained me during the difficult moments on my mission.
An additional source of satisfaction in my life was that my decision to enter the mission field helped my three closest friends also decide to serve a mission. They later served as zone leaders, as an assistant to the mission president, and even as a branch president. We now have our eyes set on the course that will allow us to return to Heavenly Father’s presence.
I am not the same person I was three years ago. My greatest desire is to do the Lord’s will. The Lord blessed me “an hundredfold” (Matthew 19:29). I have a living and real testimony of the divinity of Heavenly Father, His Beloved Son and His Atonement, the purifying power of the Holy Spirit of God, and the marvelous work and wonder of these latter days, when the gospel has been restored to the earth through the Prophet Joseph Smith (see Isaiah 29:14).
My heart overflows with love and gratitude for this sacred time and for knowing and loving so many brothers and sisters in the Uruguay Montevideo Mission. Few blessings are as great as serving among them. Nothing else has given me such great joy and peace or brought me so many miracles as has my missionary service.

The hands on the clock seemed glued in place. Every time I looked, they showed the same time. Why didn’t the teacher come to start the exams so that my agony could finally be over?
Like most Japanese students, I was scared to death by the college entrance exams. In our country, those who fail the tests aren’t allowed to attend a university. Students often stay up late all year long to cram, and they have a favorite saying: “He who sleeps four hours passes; he who sleeps five hours fails.” Like my friends, I had spent many sleepless nights in preparation and had received countless urgings from my parents to “make sure you pass those tests.”
For me, though, the exams carried even more weight. They might make a difference between whether or not my parents would allow me to be baptized. For four years I had been trying to convince them, especially my father, that joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would be good for me. He would hear nothing of it, always insisting that, for now, schooling was more important.
If only I could pass these exams, college would be assured and the pressure would be less. Perhaps then my parents would grant permission.
I looked at the clock again. Three minutes to go …
Last of all, my thoughts drifted to the beginning of this school year—my last in high school, the year of preparation for the college entrance examinations. I knew I would not be allowed to join the Church until the exams were over. I also wondered if my parents would allow me to be baptized even after the tests. One thing was certain, though. If I failed the exams, my parents would say, “The reason you failed is because you spent so much time with that church!” I had to prove that what they were thinking just wasn’t right. Somehow I knew that passing those tests was the key to my baptism, but I couldn’t see how.
I studied harder than I ever had before. Schoolwork passed ahead of everything, even Church assignments. Seminary studies began to pile up, but I rationalized that in order to be baptized, it was worth neglecting seminary in favor of schoolwork. The lack of seminary study worried me, however, for it was there I had grown the most and felt the strongest testimony. Now that testimony seemed to be shrinking as 13 home study books cluttered my shelf. My conscience told me I wasn’t doing what was right, that even with school there should be time for Church work and seminary too. On February 25 I promised myself I would complete all 13 books by March 4, the day exams began. Sandwiched in between my other schoolwork, seminary workbooks became a welcome break. On March 2, I handed all of my assignments, completed, to my amazed seminary teacher.
“It’s time,” the teacher supervising the exam said. I looked at the clock and whispered a prayer. Like a squadron of robots, the college entrance exam candidates rose and entered the testing area. Reluctantly, I joined them.
I passed! I couldn’t believe it! I was so excited! But several days later, when the scores were posted, I was listed. I would be able to go to college! I rushed to my parents with the good news and also asked if now I could finally have my wish—to become a member of the Church.
“No,” my father said simply. He startled the words right out of my mouth.
But my mother, although she had never done so before, came to my defense. She reminded him that I had been true to my studies and true to my religion for four years. “That’s such a good church that I don’t think my daughter would be doing anything wrong by joining it,” she said. “It is such a good church. I can understand why my daughter wants to go to it all her life.”
The three of us talked for hours, and I slowly realized my parents weren’t against me but loved me. They were concerned for my welfare and didn’t want me doing something blindly. I’m grateful to have such wonderful parents. I think they realized, too, that I wasn’t joining the Church on a whim. They gave me permission to be baptized! I made that covenant and received that ordinance on the same day I graduated from the Young Women program. My friends from seminary helped plan the baptismal service, and most of my family attended.

Clink! Clink! The coins jingled as eight-year-old Angela dropped them into her strawberry-colored tin box. “Three-eighty, three-ninety, four dollars, four dollars and ten cents,” she counted softly to herself, pinching the last dime between her thumb and finger and dropping it thoughtfully into the container. “Just one more week,” she added, replacing the lid of the tin. “With next week’s allowance, I’ll have enough.”
She glanced wistfully at the white dresser top—clean, dusted, and waiting. Since her neighbor Jeff had shown her his goldfish, she couldn’t wait to have her own. She needed just two more dollars—the amount of her allowance—for a glass bowl, a nice fat fish, and a supply of food.
Three times she’d visited the pet store on Market Avenue, pedaling her bicycle home faster each time out of sheer excitement. Mr. Henry, the shop owner, now knew her by name. “Hello, Angela,” he had called from behind the puppy cages the last time she went in. “We have a new shipment of fish this morning. Take a look.”
All week, Angela faithfully sped through her chores. The bathroom sink had never gleamed so brightly. Doc, the family’s lively puppy, awoke each day to a clean dish with a small heap of dog food and fresh water. Angela’s daisy-spotted comforter was pulled neatly into place without a wrinkle every morning. The whole family marveled at how quickly and well she cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. By the end of the week, there was no question that Angela deserved her two dollars.
Clutching the crinkled bills in one hand, she raced to her room, grabbed the red tin from her closet shelf, and dumped the money into a mound in the middle of her bed. She added the allowance money to the pile and counted quickly. Six dollars and ten cents—barely enough, but enough! She could go straight to the pet store!
“Oh-oh! Wait a minute,” Angela whispered, picking up the last two dollars. She flung herself backward onto the soft yellow covers, moaning, “I forgot about tithing!”
She sat up again and studied the empty dresser top. Maybe I should use my tithing money and get the fish, anyway, she thought. I could pay it back next week.
The idea appealed to her. As she dropped the money into the empty tin and started to get up, she noticed a small gray envelope lying unsealed on the nightstand. She’d planned to add this week’s tithing to the envelope and turn it in on Sunday. With the tithing envelope in one hand and the bright tin box in the other, she pondered her choices. Her ponytail swayed back and forth as she studied first one, then the other. Finally she whispered, “Tithing shouldn’t wait.”
With a tug, Angela opened the money tin again, picked out two dimes, and tucked them into the envelope. Sighing with both relief and disappointment, she finished filling out the tithing slip, slid it under the money in the envelope, licked the flap, and sealed it.
On Sunday, she gave the gray envelope to her bishop.
Although she was still sad on Monday morning, her chores seemed easier somehow and took less time than usual. The week passed swiftly. When she received her allowance, there was no need to count the money in the tin box after taking out her tithing. There was more than enough.
Saturday morning, Angela stood outside the door of the pet shop at 9:55 A.M. while her mother waited in the car. When Mr. Henry turned the “closed” sign around and peered out the window, he waved at her and hurried to the front door. She wriggled with excitement as she heard his keys jingling.
“Well, Angela,” he greeted her, “I thought you’d be here last week.”
Angela smiled. “I had to wait.”
“You’ll be happy that you did,” Mr. Henry said. “We’re running a special on goldfish this week. Two for the price of one.”
With a jubilant smile, Angela followed him into the store.
Riding home, Angela clutched her glass bowl, the plastic bag holding two fish, and the box of fish food. She still had almost two dollars in her pocket. “You know what, Mom?” she said. “Bowls can wait and fish can wait, but tithing should never wait.”