Gospel Story Finder

From this point forward, I began to experience mixed emotions about becoming a member of the Church. I was concerned about my father’s opinion and his reaction to my decision.
During the sixth discussion, I received the message that I had an incoming call from my father. The phone rang. I picked it up, and it was indeed my dad.
He said, “Your mother informed me you’ve made a decision to join the Latter-day Saints.”
I said yes.
He said, “I’m here to prevent that from happening.”
And I said, “You know what, Dad? I love you and you’ll always be my dad. You’ve done a great job with me. But I’m 22. I’m a man now, and these decisions are for my family and my future. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and will continue to do for me, but this is my decision. I’m going to do it, and I know the Lord wants me to do this.”
My dad wasn’t very happy when he hung up the phone. Immediately I got on my knees and asked the Lord to help me see and understand that what I was going to do was correct. I was thousands of kilometers from home. I was all alone, and nothing was going right. Only when I was with the missionaries did I feel good. At that moment the Spirit testified to me that it was the Lord’s will and that the Lord wanted me to be baptized. A very clear voice said, “You are to do the Lord’s will. You are to follow His example.” Then I knew. I never looked back after that. I was baptized on 12 October 1995.

On board one of those overcrowded wooden sailing ships were my great-grandparents, their little family, and a few belongings. The waves were high, the voyage long, the quarters cramped. One little girl, Mary, had always been frail, but now with the passage of each day, her anxious mother saw the little one becoming weaker. She had a serious illness. There was no neighborhood clinic, no doctor’s prescription, no hospital—just the steady roll of the tired old ship. Day after day worried parents watched anxiously for land, but there was none. Little Mary could not withstand the hardships of the voyage. After days of feverish sickness, she peacefully passed beyond this veil of tears.
As family and friends crowded around on the open deck, the ship’s captain directed the service; and that precious, little body was placed tenderly in a tear-stained canvas, and dropped into the angry sea. Her strong father, in emotion-choked tones, comforted Mary’s grieving mother, repeating, “‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’ (Job 1:21.) We’ll see our Mary again!”

I was five years old when our grandmother died back in 1892. We children stayed upstairs while all the neighbors gathered in the parlor below for the funeral.
“My little sister and I pressed our noses against the windowpane, and we saw horses and carriages and wagons up and down the whole lane.
“Then we saw the two black velvet horses come, pulling the shiny black hearse toward the house. The horses had gold fringes on their necks, and the high-wheeled hearse had windows on the sides with gold drapes and gold fringes.
“The horses walked slowly, and they looked sad. I was sad too because we loved our grandmother and I didn’t understand, but I did know she would not be in our house anymore.
“My mama cried, and her sister, Aunt Emily, came, and she held her little baby and cried. I felt sorry for them, but I didn’t cry.
“Mama told me grandmother was old and needed to rest, so I didn’t cry.
“It was two weeks afterward that I did cry. Just a few days after the funeral, Aunt Emily’s little baby took pneumonia. Maybe because she had been moved from her own house over in Emporia. We tiptoed around the house, my little sister Becca and I. We tiptoed, and we didn’t ask for anything. But the little baby died.
“We were back upstairs, and the carriages were again up and down the lane. This time a little white hearse came, drawn by two little white ponies.
“Now,” continued our grandmother, as the tape circled around her words. “Now we have sealed them all in the temple of the Lord, and they are together again. They didn’t know while they were on this earth that they could be together. Missionaries never came to our countryside homes.”

Benjamin Juarez, 12, faces different challenges in Brooklyn. He was born in California, lived briefly in Mexico, and now, while his father is studying to be a doctor, Benjamin and his three younger brothers do what every successful Brooklyn child does: adapt.
“You can’t live here the same as you do other places,” Benjamin says. “For your own safety, you have to keep your eyes wide open.” Once, at school, some bigger boys jumped him. He’s never let that happen again. “You have to be a little tough, just for safety.”
That’s another lesson of city life: everyone takes care of himself, and that extends to the gospel. “My friends in the ward live a long way from me,” Benjamin says. “We only see each other on Mutual nights, Sundays, and for Scout activities. So everybody has to have his own testimony. He just can’t depend on anyone else for it.”

Shortly after commencing to translate, I became acquainted with Mr. Peter Whitmer, … and also with some of his family. In the beginning of the month of June, his son, David Whitmer, came … and brought with him a two-horse wagon, for the purpose of having us accompany him to his father’s place, and there remain until we should finish the work. It was arranged that we should have our board free of charge, and the assistance of one of his brothers to write for me, and also his own assistance when convenient. … There [we] resided until the translation was finished and the copyright secured.

Now, I should like to read portions of a letter that came to my desk. I have changed the names to preserve anonymity and have somewhat abbreviated it, paraphrasing a few words in the process. The letter reads:
“Dear President Hinckley,
“When I met you in the elevator at the hospital I had the urge to write you and tell you of some of the things that have happened to me.
“When I was sixteen or seventeen I cared nothing for the Church and would not have anything to do with it. But a bishop who was concerned about me came over to see me and asked me to help build some scenery for a road show production, and of course I told him no.
“Well, about ten days went by, and the bishop came back to ask me to build the scenery, and again I told him no. But then he went on to explain that he had asked others, and they had told him that they didn’t know how. He indicated that I was needed. I finally gave in and proceeded to build the scenery.
“When I got it done, I said, ‘There is your scenery,’ and decided I had done my part. But the bishop insisted that they needed me on the stage to move the scenery and make sure it got put up right and that it got moved carefully as the road show moved from ward to ward. So I finally gave in again.
“That bishop kept me busy for quite a while, and pretty soon I was involved and enjoying it. He then moved from our area and we got a new bishop, and he picked up the challenge and kept after me.
“Bishop Smith had asked me to go on a mission, but I was undecided on that, and when Bishop Sorensen was put in, he asked me also, and I finally decided that I would go.
“Well, the bishop and I went to tell Mom and Dad about my decision. They told the bishop they couldn’t pay for it. Dad told the bishop that if I was really sincere about going that I should work and save, and pay for the mission myself.
“My eyesight was not the greatest, as you know, and when I went places I had to be taken. When I became sixteen, I wanted to drive a car more than anything, and Dad took me to several eye doctors, all with the same result. The vision in my right eye was 20/800, and the vision in my left eye was 20/50, and I had astigmatism. So earning enough money to go on a mission was not an easy task. I worked in the sign shop at a department store for six to eight months to save some money. The bishop finally felt it was time for me to go, and we went to talk to my parents again. I had a thousand dollars saved, and the bishop told my Dad that the elders quorum would support me for the rest. Dad sat there for a while and said if anybody was going to support his son, he would. I filled out my papers and got my call in May of 1961.
“I went to Japan, where I loved the people and the missionary experiences that I had there. My companions and I baptized several people into the Church. After I came home, I went to work again in the sign shop. During the time I worked there, whenever I went to lunch, I would see a young lady walking up the street, who evidently worked in the same general area. I knew I had met her somewhere before but could not place her.
“Well, one of my missionary companions came home, and after some time we ran around together. Of course, he did all the chauffeuring because of my eyesight. One night he called and wanted to go out on a date, and so I frantically called around to find a date. Well, we went to a party, and guess who he took out. Right, he took out Sister Marilyn Jones who also had been in Japan, and whom I now remembered meeting briefly there on one occasion. She was the girl I had been passing on the street for several months and had not recognized.
“After this party, I went to California with my family for two weeks, and when I got home I found that my missionary friend had been dating the girl I had taken to the party. I thought I’d fix him, so I called Marilyn to go out on a date. You have to realize that it’s not easy to do that when you don’t drive, so my younger sister drove, and we had eight other youngsters accompany us to a ball game. That should have been enough to discourage any young lady from ever dating me again, but I tried again when my family went to the canyon to pick chokecherries.
“Finally came our date alone, and Dad had to drive me to pick up Marilyn, and then we drove him home, and went out on our date, and then back to our house to pick up Dad, who drove us back to her house, and then we went home. On the next date I asked her to marry me, and she told me no. Well, I went out with her some more, and asked her to marry me a couple more times, and I finally got a maybe. I thought that was a step in the right direction, and persisted. Six months after we started going together you performed our marriage in the Salt Lake Temple.
“President Hinckley, I thought that I loved this young lady at that time, but seventeen years later I find that I love her more than I could ever imagine. We now have five wonderful children.
“I have held many positions in the Church: chorister, senior Aaronic adviser, everything in the elders quorum, assistant ward clerk, seventies president, executive secretary, and now I am a counselor in the bishopric.
“I am still working in the sign shop at the department store. I bought a small house about thirteen years ago, and as my family got larger, my house got smaller. I had to do something, so I added on to my house and made it twice the size. I started this a little over three years ago and have been working on it ever since. It is coming along really well.
“Now for the most amazing piece of news ever. Two years ago in June, I went to a new eye doctor who examined my eyes and asked me what restrictions I had on my driver’s license. I told him that I didn’t have a license. He said that my eyesight was probably acceptable.
“I sat there in shock, and my wife said, ‘Does this mean he could get a driver’s license?’ The doctor said, ‘I don’t see why not.’ The next day my wife had me signed up for a driver education course, and after I finished it I went to get my license and they checked my eyes. The doctor had written a note explaining my eye problem, and that maybe I should not drive at night. The examiner put the letters up and I read them right off. He went to talk to his supervisor, and came back and approved my license with only a minor restriction.
“President Hinckley, the Lord has blessed me more than I can ever deserve. People say how lucky I am that my eyes have improved so much, but I know that it is the Lord’s doing. I feel it is because I have tried to serve the Lord and do what I can to build up his kingdom here on the earth. I am sure there are times he is disappointed in me, and I’m sure he should be. But I will try to do my best and be worthy of his blessings upon me and my family.”
He concludes with appreciation and testimony and signs his name. I have taken your time to read this somewhat lengthy letter because I feel it tells so simply and yet so eloquently what this work is all about.
If you will recall what I have just read, this man, when he was a boy of sixteen or seventeen, was drifting aimlessly and dangerously as so many young men do at that age. He was walking the broad way which leads to destruction. Noting the course he was taking, his bishop, a prayerful and dedicated man, recognized his creative talent as an artist and found a way to challenge him to use that talent in the service of the Church. That bishop was wise enough to know that most young men will respond to a challenge when they know they are needed. No one else in the ward was quite capable of building the kind of scenery the bishop wanted. This inactive boy was capable of this, and the bishop complimented and challenged him with a request that his service was needed.
Here is a great key to reactivation of many of those who have fallen by the wayside. Each has a talent that can be employed. It is the task of leaders to match those talents with needs, and then to offer a challenge. The boy of this letter, whom I shall call Jack, responded, and he soon found himself moving in the direction of the Church rather than away from it.
Then came the challenge to go on a mission. Jack, who was now accustomed to saying yes rather than no, responded affirmatively. The father was not fully converted, and responded that his son would have to earn his own funds. That was not all bad. There was something of good in the requirement that he develop self-reliance. He went to work, he provided much of what he needed, he saved his money, and when he had a thousand dollars, the bishop, again under inspiration, felt the time had come when he should go. Jack’s brethren in the elders quorum would assist, and that is proper. But the father, with an awakened sense of pride and of responsibility toward his own son, rose to the occasion, as men usually do when properly confronted.
I first met Jack in Japan when he was serving as a missionary there. I interviewed him on two or three occasions. That was before we had the Language Training Mission. Young men and women were then sent with no language training and simply plunged in to work at the task when they arrived there. I marveled that this young man, with serious eyesight deficiencies, was able to grasp that difficult language and speak it with power. Behind that was a great effort and a great sense of devotion, and above all, a certain humility and reliance on the Lord with anxious, prayerful pleadings for help.
I can tell you, for I witnessed it, that it was a miracle in his case as it was in the case of many others.
I also first met in Japan and interviewed on a number of occasions the young lady he was later to marry. She had a wonderful spirit, a deep faith, and a moving sense of duty. Their acquaintance in the field was nothing more than having seen one another on one occasion. They worked in widely separated areas. But out of their experiences had come a common touchstone—a new language in which each had learned to share testimony with others while laboring in the great and selfless cause of service to our Father’s children.
As he indicated in his letter, they asked me to perform their marriage. It was done in the Salt Lake Temple. Each knew that only in the Lord’s house under the authority of the holy priesthood could they be joined in marriage for time and for all eternity under a covenant which death could not break and time could not destroy. They wanted the very best for themselves; they would not be satisfied with anything else. Be it said to their credit that each has remained true to the sacred covenants they made in the house of the Lord.
Five beautiful and handsome children have graced that marriage. They are a family with love and appreciation and respect one for another. They have lived in a spirit of self-reliance. A small home which has been enlarged is a home in which father and mother and children gather together and counsel and learn one from another. It is a home in which there is a reading of the scripture. It is a home in which there is prayer: family prayer and individual prayer. It is a home in which service is taught and exemplified. It is a simple home; it is an unostentatious family. There is not much of wealth, but there is much of peace and goodness and love. The children who are growing up there are growing in “the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” (Eph. 6:4.) The father is faithful in his service to the Church. For these many years he has responded to every call made upon him. The mother likewise, in the organizations for women and children. They are good citizens of the community and the nation. They are at peace with their neighbors. They love the Lord. They love life. They love one another.
Now they have witnessed a miracle in the improvement of his eyesight. To a kind and gracious God goes the credit. This, too, is of the essence of the gospel, the power of healing and restoration, followed by acknowledgment and thanksgiving.
I do not know whether the two men who served as Jack’s bishops know what has become of him. If they know where he is, there must be sweet satisfaction in their hearts. There are thousands of bishops like them, who serve night and day in this great work of reactivation. And there are tens of thousands of Jacks in this Church whose hearts are touched and who are brought back into activity by a great sense of concern, a quiet expression of love, and a challenge to serve from bishops and others. But there are many, many more who need similar attention.

When an LDS classmate invited Horváth Attila, 16, to sacrament meeting, Attila liked what he saw.

“Then, when my friend told me the Church was very family-centered, I became even more interested.”

Within weeks, Attila was baptized.

Three months later, his father asked to hear the discussions. “I knew enough about the Church by that time,” says Attila, “that I could help my father learn about it. The knowledge I had received in seminary helped me explain the scriptures to him. But since he smoked and drank coffee a lot, I didn’t have the faith that he would be baptized. I was amazed when I saw how—with the help of our Heavenly Father—he was able to rid those things from his life. Two months later, I baptized my father!

“Then when my mother saw how happy my father and I were in the Church, she also started to be interested. I baptized her three months after baptizing my father! The next day, my whole family came to church and bore their testimonies. It’s not possible to describe what kind of feeling it was for me.”

“Mother, what are we going to have for dinner tonight?” Eliza quietly asked. She was hungry, and she knew that her mother had given her and her brothers and sisters the last of the potatoes for lunch.
Her mother didn’t answer. Eliza’s hope fell as she watched her mother scurry around the small kitchen looking for a little flour or wheat to feed her family. As Eliza’s stomach rumbled, there was a knock at the door. When Eliza’s mother opened the door, there stood a pretty lady carrying two small children.
“Sister Peterson, please come in. What brings you by?” Eliza’s mother asked.
Eliza had seen Sister Peterson at church. She knew her husband owned a large farm and that their family always wore nice clothes.
Sister Peterson set her two children on the floor. “I was scrubbing my floors and tending to my children when a quiet thought came into my mind: ‘Put the wheat in the buggy and go.’ I ignored the thought and continued tending to my children,” she explained.
“A few minutes later I heard the voice again: ‘Put the wheat in the buggy and go.’ This time the thought was a little louder. I told myself that this was a silly thought. Where would I go with the wheat? I ignored the voice again and went back to my work.
“A third time I heard, ‘Put the wheat in the buggy and go.’ This time the voice was so loud that I looked around the room to see if my husband had come in from working in the fields. But no one was in the room except my two small girls who can’t speak yet. I decided that I should listen, that maybe the Holy Ghost was giving me a prompting.
“I bundled up my two small children, filled the buggy with bags of wheat, and hitched the horses to the buggy. I didn’t know where to go. I held the reigns loose and let the horses lead me. They brought me straight to your house. Could you and your family use this wheat?” Sister Peterson asked.
Eliza’s mother wept as she looked around their small house filled with young children. She replied: “My children were hungry and I didn’t know what I was going to feed them for dinner. We have no food in our house. Thank you for listening to the Holy Ghost.”
That night Eliza went to bed with a full stomach. She thanked Heavenly Father in her prayers for sending Sister Peterson to their house with food.

Every year, each member of my family picks another family member’s name out of a hat and secretly gets a gift for that person. We first got the idea from the movie Christmas for a Dollar. We tried it, and now it’s been a tradition for the past couple years.
This past year, I picked my brother’s name. At first, I thought, “Oh, great,” because we had been butting heads. But looking for a gift he would like really humbled me. After Christmas, we were best friends again.
I like our tradition because it changed my perspective on Christmas. I used to always focus on what gifts I’d get and what I wanted, but after we started this tradition, it made me focus more on thinking about my family members and the looks on their faces as they opened their gifts. I put more time and thought into giving gifts. Even before Christmastime, I try to look for things my family members will like and what I could get them.
Makenna B., 16, Oklahoma, USA

A few weeks ago on a day when this area was experiencing one of its worst snowstorms, and that is saying quite a bit because we had plenty of severe weather this past winter, a handsome young serviceman and his beautiful bride-to-be encountered extreme difficulty in getting to the Salt Lake Temple for their marriage appointment. She was in one location in the Salt Lake Valley and he was to come from another nearby town. Heavy snows and winds had closed the highways during the night and early morning hours. After many hours of anxious waiting, some of us were able to help them get to the temple and complete their marriage plans before the day was over.
How grateful they, their families, and friends were for the assistance and concern in their keeping this most important appointment. My friend—we will call him Bill—expressed his deep gratitude with, “Thank you very much for all you did to make our wedding possible. I don’t understand why you went to all this trouble to help me. Really, I’m nobody.”
I am sure Bill meant his comment to be a most sincere compliment, but I responded to it firmly, but I hope kindly, with, “Bill, I have never helped a ‘nobody’ in my life. In the kingdom of our Heavenly Father no man is a ‘nobody.’”

May I share with you an account of an opportunity of service which came to me unexpectedly and in an unusual manner. I received a telephone call from a granddaughter of an old friend. She asked, “Do you remember Francis Brems, who was your Sunday School teacher?” I told her that I did. She continued, “He is now 105 years of age. He lives in a small care center but meets with the entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a Sunday School lesson. Last Sunday, Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson and tell him this. He’ll know what to do.’”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I could not speak to him, for he was deaf. I could not write a message for him to read, for he was blind. What was I to do? I was told that his family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting and then any message. I followed the procedure and took his finger and spelled on the palm of his hand T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward, tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands, and we read the movement of his lips. The message: “Thank you so much.”
Within that very week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. I received the telephone call and then met with the family as funeral arrangements were made. How thankful I am that a response to render service was not delayed.

My brother, sister, and I grew up in the rural town of Blackfoot, Idaho. My family didn’t have a lot of money, but that didn’t stop us from being excited about Christmas. We would wake up early in the morning, sneak into my mom and dad’s room, and ask them if we could get up. They’d say with tired voices, “No. It’s only three o’clock in the morning. Go back to bed.”
So we’d climb back into our beds and wait and wait and think, “Boy, it’s got to be later now.” Then we’d get up again and ask my parents, “Mom, Dad, can we get up now?”
They’d say, “No, it’s only 10 minutes after 3:00. Go back to bed.” It seemed like so long before we’d finally get up to celebrate Christmas.
In those early years, we began to understand the importance of the Savior by celebrating Christmas. By developing a relationship with Him, we were able to make good choices and receive many wonderful gifts in our lives.
True friendship has been one of those gifts. I had several good friends while growing up. The gospel bound us together, and special leaders helped us choose the right. We had a wonderful Sunday School teacher named Eva Manwaring who knew how to handle a group of ruffian boys. I don’t think there were too many sisters who would have put up with us, but she did. Her husband took care of us in Scouts, helping us get our Eagle ranks. I am grateful for good friends and leaders who helped me make good choices, especially the choice to serve a mission.
When I first arrived in Brazil as a missionary, I immediately loved the beautiful, green country and the open, loving, humble people.
The work was often difficult. Representatives of another church would tell the youth to throw rocks at us. We were put in jail. It was hard for people to join the Church, because their neighbors would ostracize them. That was in the late 1950s when the Church didn’t have even one stake in Brazil.
Now there are almost 200 stakes. It has been a spiritual blessing to see the miraculous growth of the Church in Brazil as I’ve returned with my family as a mission president and member of an Area Presidency.
After my first mission was over, I sailed for home on a boat. I stood on the deck and cried as I saw Brazil disappear over the horizon. I’m always excited to return, but it hasn’t gotten easier to say good-bye.
When I got back from my mission, I met a beautiful lady named Sandra Joelene Lyon at stake conference. We both attended Idaho State University in Pocatello but lived in Blackfoot. The best part about commuting was that Sandra and I carpooled in the same group. I could tell she was one of God’s precious daughters, and I knew she was the right one for me to marry. One day I sat next to her in the car and said, “You know, you really ought to write your missionary a ‘Dear John’ letter because you know you’re going to marry me anyway.” It wasn’t quite that simple, but after a couple of years we were married.
We got engaged in December, which makes Christmas especially meaningful. Being married for eternity is the greatest gift we could have given each other. My wife is a wonderful blessing as she provides gifts of love to me, our children, their spouses, and our grandchildren. Her love does much to keep our family united.
After a few years of marriage, Sandra and I had our third child, a little boy named Stephen who was born just three days before Christmas. When he was born, he could not inflate his lungs. He had a valiant little spirit about him. He fought for life, but the doctors said it wasn’t likely he would live. Our bishop invited the ward to join their prayers with ours for our son.
The greatest gift that special Christmas Eve was being able to give him a blessing. After the blessing, I felt prompted to go to Sandra’s hospital room and tell her Stephen was going to be just fine and that she shouldn’t worry. On Christmas morning, the doctors told us Stephen was going to be OK. They had no idea what had happened. It was a miracle. I’m so grateful for the power of the priesthood. We consider Stephen’s survival to be one of our family’s greatest Christmas gifts.
The great gift we receive at Christmas is a remembrance of the Savior’s birth. He is our gift from the Father. Living close to the Savior while growing up helps us to make good decisions. You don’t want to disappoint Him. Forming a testimony while you are young will help you to always appreciate His miraculous sacrifice.
It’s critical to live close to the Savior and know that He is always there and that He always loves you. Following His example and His teachings brings wonderful feelings at Christmas and marvelous blessings in eternity. I testify that the Savior lives. Merry Christmas, beloved brothers and sisters.

One of the most special moments that took place at family home evening was when our son, Renan, was preparing to be baptized. Our two older daughters, Cynthia and Lilian, offered to teach the lessons for the month preceding his eighth birthday. My husband and I loved watching them teach the meaning and purpose of baptism—the same lessons we had taught them as they prepared for baptism. Four years later Renan followed the examples of his older sisters and taught lessons about baptism to his younger sister, Ellen.

Laekin Vakalahi always knew that putting the Lord first in his life would shape his future. He has always loved playing sports, especially rugby and basketball.
As a young man he did not play sports on Sundays, as a rule, and he enjoyed going to church and youth activities, including seminary.
He had an opportunity to play rugby professionally but in 2021, he decided to serve a full-time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in the New Zealand Wellington Mission.
Laekin said, “I decided to put God first and serve a mission and then leave things in His hands.”
In 2023, Laekin’s parents and four brothers were on holiday in Hawaii when they met a scout from the Philadelphia Eagles National Football League team.
The scout was impressed with the stature and strength of the four brothers and asked if they had ever played American football.
The parents said, “No, but you really should see the size of our older son who is serving a mission in New Zealand. He is 6’ 5” (196 cms.) tall and weighs 320 (165 kgs.) pounds.”
The Eagles’ scout was so impressed with the stats and photos that he arranged with Laekin’s mission president to have Laekin do a workout in Wellington while the scout observed.
Always concerned about staying on task and following mission rules, Laekin became creative about getting all the scout’s assignments completed.
For example, he demonstrated his ability to lead by recording a class he taught in a zone conference. The Eagles were impressed with his honesty, character, and obedience in following the mission rules.
Following the completion of his mission, he worked closely with the scout on football fundamentals and had an official tryout with the team.
In April 2024, the Philadelphia Eagles signed Laekin to a three-year contract as an international developmental player.
Laekin said, “When you are playing at such a high level you could have a lot of pride or ego, but we need to remember that we are all equal in the eyes of God. Everyone needs to treat people the same, no matter who they are. Praying, reading my scriptures, and listening to Church music helps me to stay connected and grounded.”
Following his football career, Laekin hopes to get a university degree and a career in the film and video industry.

My brain was exhausted! I had read one page in my history book three times without remembering one word. It was well after midnight when I rubbed my burning eyes and slammed the book shut. I wanted to do well on my final test, but the time had come to give up studying because nothing was getting into my throbbing head.
I set my history book down and, almost out of habit, picked up a different book of history. The cover of my Book of Mormon felt soothing as I opened it to Alma and started my nightly reading. I was not expecting to learn anything in this frame of mind, but to my complete surprise my pounding headache ceased and I felt a warm, comforting peace envelop my body.
My mind was calm and alert. The words were clear and easy to understand. It was as though my kind Heavenly Father were speaking directly to me.
Many times in my life I had felt as though I could not understand the scriptures. Now I realize that on the days I read the scriptures, there is a difference in my attitude. It seems amazing that when I read the scriptures I feel happier, my family seems nicer, and I feel more patient and content. Often when I read the scriptures, the Spirit speaks to my mind and gives me direction and guidance. The spiritual experiences that come as we read the scriptures are as important as the words written on the page. I know that each word in the Book of Mormon is important for our day.

In 1983, when I was 15 years old, I asked my mom why no one cared about Latin America. I wondered if God even loved us. Did He forget about us until Christopher Columbus arrived in the Americas? I wondered why Jesus Christ hadn’t come to this continent, and I felt there should be a book about prophets and God’s relationship with America.
My mom, a devout Catholic, replied, “God created us, and He loves all of His children in the world.”
I said, “If so, why didn’t Jesus Christ come to this continent? There should be a book about prophets and God’s dealings with America.”
My mother emphatically said there was a Bible to which nothing should be removed or added. She told me not to think about it anymore and to recite the Rosary prayer because I was a Catholic.
In 1993, I was married and had one child. One day at work, a secretary took a Book of Mormon to the office, placed it near a glass, and left it. She did not tell me what the book was about, but I was curious. I decided to keep the book. Around the same time, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints started visiting my mother. One day, while visiting her house, the missionaries knocked on her door, and I happened to answer it. As we visited, they asked if they could see my family too. My spouse and I agreed.
At our first meeting, I was surprised to learn that this religion had a book called the Book of Mormon. It contained over a thousand years of history and told the story of Jesus Christ coming to the Americas, paralleling the time period of the Bible. I read the entire book in four days and felt immense joy. I knew with certainty that it was the book I longed for, that God and Jesus Christ loved everyone, even those of us who live in the Americas.
In March 1993, my spouse and I were baptized, and we covenanted to give our lives to help establish the kingdom of God in this small place on earth. This decision brought miracles into our lives and into the small branch we attended.
Before our baptism, 11 brethren in the branch had prayed every day at 6:00 a.m. for a family to come and stay so they wouldn’t have to close the unit. At the same time, I had been praying for a permanent home. We all had our prayers answered!
A month after we were baptized, I was called as music leader, and my husband became the president of the Cua Branch in Palo Verde, Venezuela. Two years later, in October 1996, we traveled with our two children to the temple in Lima, Peru, and were sealed for eternity as a family.
As I tell my story, my children say, “Our mom came to earth saying, ‘There is a book! There is a book! I have to find it!’” But in reality the book found me!
From the moment I found the Book of Mormon, my life had meaning, purpose, and direction. I feel the love of God and my Savior, Jesus Christ.

A boy in my class is mildly handicapped. (I will call him Joe, not his real name.) He is a slow learner, and he stutters, so everybody thinks he is odd. One day at school when I sat by him, a mean boy thought he was being clever by picking on him. But I didn’t think it was clever at all. Joe went and told the teacher. When the teacher came over, I stood up and told her about other mean things that had been done to Joe that he had not told her.
This summer my mom was talking to his mom, and she told my mom that just about every day after school Joe came home crying. When she said that, it made me feel so good that I had been nice to him.
Lisa Miller, age 9Great Falls Fifth Ward

I saw that same happiness in the faces of people who helped for the Lord in Idaho years ago. The Teton Dam burst on Saturday, June 5, 1976. Eleven people were killed. Thousands had to leave their homes in a few hours. Some homes were washed away. And hundreds of dwellings could be made habitable only through effort and means far beyond that of the owners.
One couple returned to Rexburg from a vacation just after the flood. They didn’t go to see their own house. Instead, they found their bishop to ask where they could help. He directed them to a family in need.
After a few days they went to check on their home. It was gone, swept away in the flood. They simply walked back to the bishop and asked, “Now what would you like us to do?”
Wherever you live, you have seen that miracle of sympathy turned to unselfish action. It may not have been in the wake of a great natural disaster. I have seen it in a priesthood quorum where a brother rises to describe the needs of a man or a woman who seeks an opportunity to work to support himself or herself and his or her family. I could feel sympathy in the room, but some suggested names of people who might employ the person who needed work.
What happened in that priesthood quorum and what happened in the flooded houses in Idaho is a manifestation of the Lord’s way to help those in great need become self-reliant. We feel compassion, and we know how to act in the Lord’s way to help.

I’ll admit that it’s not always easy to hear what a prophet has to say. While serving in the Relief Society General Presidency, I attended a General Authority Training session held prior to general conference. During that meeting, the Apostle conducting the training did something unusual. Whenever someone used the words woman or man, he corrected them and told them to use the words mother or father instead.

At first, I didn’t think much about it, but as the meeting wore on and he repeatedly emphasized that women were mothers and men were fathers, I became painfully aware that I was the only non-parent in the room. By the end of the morning, I felt condemned.

When the training ended, I bolted out of the room so no one would see my tears. At first, I was just hurt; but then I began to seethe: “How could an Apostle disenfranchise an entire segment of members?”

I stewed about this for months—until I began to work on my upcoming talk for the General Relief Society Meeting. I pleaded for inspiration, but I got nothing! I had no ideas. Finally, I received a clear impression: that I should speak about motherhood. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I thought. But the impression was clear. So, I began to search the scriptures and teachings of prophets. I went to the temple again and again and pleaded for understanding. And guess what I learned? That the Apostle who had offended me was right. His approach was insensitive. But he had taught an eternal truth—that every woman has a divine endowment as a mother. That truth led me to prepare an address entitled “Are We Not all Mothers?” which is still quoted every Mother’s Day because it is filled with truth—truth I had to humble myself to learn.

Indeed, most discoveries require lots of hard work. As a tax lawyer in Los Angeles, I repeatedly saw the value of the Mormon commitment to hard work. In one case, I represented movie star Burt Reynolds. A tax issue over whether he was a California or a Florida resident had arisen, and his case hung in the balance. People had been over the documents many times. A couple days before our hearing in Sacramento, I decided to double-check everything. I even went back over Burt’s appointment books to see if any detail might have been missed. And there it was: every year Burt was always in Florida on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Well, I walked into the hearing humming “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” The legal issue of residency, after all, is all about where home is. I introduced this new fact into the record, and the state asked for a recess. When they returned, they dropped the case. The point of this little story is simply that I was glad to have gone the extra mile.