Gospel Story Finder

The second story comes from Amanda Smith, a pioneer who traveled from Kirtland to Missouri. While at Haun's Mill, mobs attacked the Saints settled there, and Amanda Smith's husband and one of her sons were killed. Her youngest son, Alma, was wounded by the gunfire, and his entire hip joint had been shot away. His mother did not know what to do; all around her were only dead or dying men and lamenting women.

In anguish of spirit, she prayed, "Oh my Heavenly Father, what shall I do? Thou seest my poor wounded boy and knowest my inexperience. Oh, Heavenly Father, direct me what to do!"

Then a voice spoke to her and directed her to take ashes from the fire, make a lye and put it directly into the wound. She was then directed to make a slippery-elm poultice for the wound "as distinctly as though a physician had been standing by speaking to me."

Pouring balsam into the wound, Amanda asked her son, "Alma, my child, you believe that the Lord made your hip?" "Yes, mother." "Well, the Lord can make something there in the place of your hip, don't you believe he can, Alma?" "Do you think that the Lord can, mother?" inquired the child, in his simplicity. "Yes, my son," I replied, "he has showed it all to me in a vision."

After five weeks, Alma was miraculously recovered - a living testament of the power of God to heal; and of the power of the Holy Ghost to teach a grieving but determined mother how to care for her child.[28]

Our son, Spencer, has tried to learn to fast since his baptism nearly two years ago. We have not made him feel he must fast at this young age. He may not fast as long as we do on some Sundays. In fast and testimony meeting some time ago, he whispered to me, “I think I’ll go up and bear my testimony.” I smiled and nodded my approval. His sincere testimony touched me. He was feeling something. So did I.

In 1992, time was a precious and limited commodity for Elder S. Mark Palmer and his wife, Jacqueline.
Elder Palmer was serving on the stake high council at the time. He was also working hard to build his professional career. Sister Palmer’s time was stretched just as thin. The Palmers were raising six children in their Austin, Texas, USA, home—including a six-month-old baby boy.
When their stake president invited them to serve as workers at the Dallas Texas Temple, they didn’t know how they could handle one more duty. But they accepted the call—and then prayerfully asked for the Lord’s help.
Making a monthly bus trip to serve all day in the temple required sacrifice and careful planning. “But it blessed our lives enormously,” says Elder Palmer.
Serving in the temple, he adds, prepared him spiritually for future priesthood callings. It also made him a better husband and father—and he found balance in his busy life.
“Going to the temple often helps you reset your priorities and be reminded of the covenants you have made,” he says.

While on a business flight several years ago, I found myself seated next to a man from the Netherlands. I was eager to visit with him since I had served in Belgium and the Netherlands as a young missionary.
As we became acquainted, he gave me his business card with the unique job title of “professor of happiness.” I commented on his amazing profession and asked him what a professor of happiness did. He said he taught people how to have a happy life by establishing meaningful relationships and goals. I replied, “That’s wonderful, but what if you could also teach how those relationships can continue beyond the grave and answer other questions of the soul, such as what is the purpose of life, how can we overcome our weaknesses, and where do we go after we die?” He admitted that it would be amazing if we had the answers to those questions, and I was pleased to share with him that we do.

“Three. Two. One. Blastoff!” Kimber Gabryszak was thrust back into her seat as the space shuttle simulator took off. As mission specialist on this flight, she later “repaired” the Hubble telescope.
The space camp in Huntsville, Alabama, sponsored by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, is for students in the seventh through ninth grades. The camp is a long way from Kimber’s home on the banks of the Yentna River in Alaska. Kimber, 14, lives in a two-story wooden lodge, the Yentna River Station, built by her father and mother. The lodge is only 70 air miles from Anchorage, but there are no roads to be found here—only trees, water, moose, and bear. Visitors come by boat, plane, or snow machine—depending on the season and the height of the river. That’s why the Gabryszaks don’t leave their bush paradise very often. Kimber, who has lived here since she was 15 months old, manages to get to Willow, the closest “town,” about every two months. She visits with friends and goes to the movies.
So why and how did Kimber get in a space simulator? Kimber wants to be an astronaut. The oldest of six children, she is mostly self-taught through the state’s home-study curriculum. When the chance to go to space camp came, she worked hard, saving money and soliciting sponsors. “I needed to see if I really want to be an astronaut,” she says. “I love science. I want to work on a space station.” One of her prized possessions is the light blue space uniform she brought back from camp.
In Alaska, Kimber’s typical day starts at 7:30 A.M., with the family’s animals. “If they don’t eat, we don’t eat,” she says. So the 17 chickens, ten chicks, two cats, four dogs, goldfish, guinea pig, and goat are tended to. After breakfast, there is firewood to split, snow to shovel, the lodge to clean, and younger children to look after. When Kimber begins home-study seminary, her day will begin 90 minutes earlier.
At night, the Gabryszaks have prayer and scripture reading. They just finished the Book of Mormon and have started it again. On Sundays, the family gathers for a meeting where they sing hymns, accompanied by Kimber on the recorder. She’ll read and study her own lesson, and then help her two younger sisters and brother with Primary lessons.
One of the highlights of her summer is going to girls’ camp with members of the Wasilla Stake. “Sometimes it’s hard not to be part of a class,” she adds. “I went to seminary in town one morning. It was neat. Everyone was friends and they were doing neat things with the scriptures. Here, there’s no one my age to do that with.”
For now, Kimber is content to write to friends she’s met along the way. She has pen pals as far away as the British Isles, and writes regularly to a Jewish boy she met at space camp. He’s interested in the Young Men and Young Women programs, and often asks questions about the Church in his letters. Kimber also sent a Book of Mormon to another friend in Wyoming.
Life is good for Kimber. She is surrounded by a family she loves and by the great Alaskan outdoors. Although college, a mission, and temple marriage—and her dream of becoming an astronaut—may eventually pull her away, at the Yentna River Station, Kimber has already learned the most important thing of all: “I love Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. They take care of me.”

Stake President John D. Jury explained that the camp was established, “because of the need for the young men of our widespread stake to come together for a major camping and hiking experience—to feel the strength of numbers greater than the usual minority status they have in so many of their other associations. I also wanted to allow them to appreciate the beautiful creations that Heavenly Father has blessed us with here in Tasmania. I wanted them to gain an appreciation of the hardships encountered by our forefathers who settled this area and also to practice the skills learnt in Scouting.”
“Our preliminary work involved sending two of the brethren to the island to examine the campsite, the facilities, sea and land transport, and to make recommendations. Then leaders in the stake met at a central location and worked out the details of the basic plan.”
Sixty-eight excited Tasmanians climbed off of the ferry for their adventure on Maria Island. Many had never seen or met the people from the other wards. They also brought many of their nonmember and non-Scout friends. And they had many good leaders, including their stake president and several bishops and fathers, in addition to their Scoutmasters and other priesthood leaders.
The wind was whistling in from Darlington Bay as the boys tried to put up their tents. They struggled alone and in pairs until they quickly learned that it required more help and cooperation than pairs could muster. With many hands and backs bent to the task the tents came up, one by one, and now they stayed up. Pegged tight against the Tasmanian soil, they withstood the stiff sea breezes that are not all that far from Antarctica.
As they were laying out camp and putting up their tents, the boys noticed their wild animal hosts, who quickly established themselves as wonderful combinations of curiosity and nuisance. The emus, wallabies, and kangaroos were everywhere.
Emu watching became one of the full-time chores because they were big and hungry and were not very fussy about what they ate. They quickly earned the moniker, “walking vacuum cleaners.” And then the reason for all of the extra gear became clear: if it wasn’t sealed in a box, tin, billy, or barrel it would be eaten by an emu.
Cries like “There’s an emu in your drum (barrel) eating all your tucker,” “Hey boys, an emu has his head in your grub box,” or “An emu has someone’s bread,” (a whole loaf), or “Watch that wallaby” were a constant part of camp life, especially at mealtime.
From the beginning brushes with emus, the boys were ecstatic about the wildlife on Maria Island. Most of them had never seen kangaroos in the bush, and the emus, wallabies, and all the bird life made every outing and every meal an adventure. One hundred and twenty-nine species of birds live on the island, including some rare birds endemic to Tasmania. Emus, Cape Baron geese, native hens, flame and scarlet robins, white-backed magpies, sea eagles, parrots, and the raucous-sounding kookaburra, which delighted everyone with unbelievable vocal techniques, were pure pleasure to observe and classify.
Listening to the birds was even more fun than watching them. Every morning the camp awoke to a special symphony provided by the local aviary company. Native hens began the first movement by setting up a racket of calls, clucks, and cries. Song birds of all sorts warbled and trilled their beautiful melodies from antiphonal perches in the trees around the camp. Cape Baron geese squawking and chuckling in their cello-like voices added a baritone harmonic presence to the symphony. Arias were freely added with the crescendoing, hyena-like cries of Tasmania’s laughing jackass, the kookaburra. This almost perfect, but loud, symphony suddenly became complete as the deep bass tom tom tom drumming tones of the emu joined in. The emus seemed to sense when the symphony needed their strong rhythmic accompaniment. The same orchestra seemed to go all out to give a wonderful hour-long concert every morning just after daybreak.
Besides the wallabies and kangaroos, other marsupials living near the Scout camp included the potoroo, ring-tailed possums, echidnas, and wombats. The famous Tasmanian devils have never been sighted on Maria Island.
This information alone allowed the boys to sleep easier at night, although many still felt sleeping was the biggest problem at the camp.
“The nights were really bad. The possums were out in force raiding tents and rubbish bins all night. In the whole camp the worst thing was trying to get to sleep. There was one rock that seemed to follow me all night, and between that and the wind and the cold I didn’t sleep much,” said Stephen Szekely, of Launceston.
“The possums through the night gave me the willies because we had to keep bashing them out of our food box and a possum got in our tent and climbed up our tent pole. We broke our torch (flashlight) trying to get him out of there. Then the emus got in our tent and dunged all over Heath’s, Andrew’s, and my sleeping gear. But the kangaroos were great; they weren’t pests like the emus,” said Geoffrey Jones, a nonmember from Glen Huon.
Skinks, frogs, and snakes were also part of the environment. Blue-tongued lizards and white-lipped whip snakes seemed to be created just for the Scouts to observe.
After camp was organized many of the boys walked the few yards to the woodlot for firewood. Captain Scott, the island ranger and caretaker, hauled in large trailer loads of wood, which the boys attacked with zeal and a wide assortment of hatchets and axes. It sounded as if they were chopping stone. The axes actually rang as they glanced off the tough wood. There was never the dull “thunk” sound one hears when chopping a pine log. Australian gum trees make a wonderful fire, but they are very tough and stringy. The wood is hard and dense and easily wears out axes and choppers alike. Most of the trees on the island are varieties of the eucalyptus and include blue gums, stringy bark gums, and white gums.
The boys helped plan and cook their own meals and spent the most amount of time and creative energy on “tea,” the evening meal. Peas, carrots, parsnips, onions, potatoes fried, bully (corned beef), skim milk, and pudding started the week’s teas, and the same kind of robust fare continued every night.
The meals were cooked over open fires in blackened pots and long-handled frying pans. After tea was over and the dishes were cleaned up and put away, the various patrol fires were ringed with boys and leaders. They sat on logs with their arms clasped around their knees, “yarning” about the gospel, cricket, the bad drought in Tasmania, and whether or not any of the political parties would accept Dick Smith’s offer of a one-million-dollar donation to stop the building of the Franklin Dam. American sports also interested them. “What about you, Brother Kelly? Do you like to play gridiron?” they would ask.
Of course this much talk made for more hunger, and so before it was bedtime a spot of cocoa or a cup of hot Milo was welcome. A few went in for more exotic treats.
“We’re having chocolate banners. They’re beautiful. You take a Cadbury’s block and put it in a split banana and then put it in foil and set it in the fire,” said Matthew Sayers.
The young men also enjoyed singing songs around the campfires at night. They sang many folksongs familiar to other English-speaking Scouts, but their favorites seemed to be those with a particular Australian flavor, like “Advance Australia Fair,” “Botany Bay,” and “Gundagai”:
There’s a track winding back
To an old-fashioned shack,
Along the road to Gundagai;
Where the blue gums are growing
The Murrumbidgee’s flowing,
Beneath that sunny sky;
Where my daddy and mother
Are waiting for me,
And the pals of my childhood
Once more I will see,
Then no more will I roam
When I’m heading right for home,
Along the road to Gundagai.
Two taxing bush walks or hikes climaxed the boys’ stay on the island. The first was a long hike east from camp on a track that runs across a narrow part of the island, around the old convict cement works, and up along Fossil Cliffs above Fossil Bay. Here the trail climbs inland through forests of gum trees and across rocky scree slopes. Most of the boys reached the summit, the twin peaks of Bishop and Clerk. Perched on the rocky summit 630 meters above the sea they ate their boiled eggs, sandwiches, biscuits (cookies), and oranges while they drank in the magnificent vistas of Freycinet Peninsula to the north and Cape Bernier to the south.
Wednesday’s 26-kilometer walk to Chinaman’s Bay and back was tougher than the hike up Bishop and Clerk. Everyone brought their bathers (swimming trunks) and a towel, plus lunch. It took several hours slogging along the soft sandy road that followed the shoreline to reach the white beaches of Chinaman’s Bay. The boys showed amazing stamina as they not only kept up but often overtook their leaders.
As four young Scouts passed him, Brother Pash described the feelings of many of the adults when he said, “It’s disgusting, it is, to see little blokes catching us up that way.”
After some very icy swimming (the Tasman Sea carries too much of the Antarctic chill for the less hardy souls), everyone began the long walk back to camp in time to hike down to the ferry dock, meet the afternoon boat, and buy a fizzy (soda pop).
Thursday’s activities included a treasure hunt that lasted several hours and figured as the high point of the trip for many of the boys. Patrols used clues provided by leaders to guide them from point to point around the island. Because the clues were written very subtly the boys’ powers of observation were sharpened, and whether they had to identify the bleached bones of a beached whale or an old cabin used by one of the early penal officers, they gained a new appreciation for the island and its inhabitants.
Wide games (for getting acquainted), softball, cricket, chess, and fishing took up their share of time as did some service projects for the ranger. Most agreed that it was a wonderful camp, but by Friday men and boys alike were ready to go home.
Geoffrey Swanton, 13, summed up the feelings for many when he said, “The camp was a good experience for me. I think the hikes to Bishop and Clerk and Chinaman’s Bay did me good. I’m glad came. The food was good, but there was not enough of it. I reckon the wildlife here is some of the best in Australia. You could pat the wallabies and observe other animals quite close up. The historic value of the island is good and there was always something to do. I wouldn’t mind staying a little longer, but I need a good shower, a good feed-up, and some sleep at home.”
Though everyone had his favorite activities, most agreed that the most successful part of the whole camp was the wonderful associations that were forged in the warm glow of campfire conversations, in the hot dust of the island’s trails, and in the friendly warmth of patrol and tent group prayers.
“At first the camp appeared boring, but by the second day things became all right. I hardly knew anybody from the other patrols at first, but by the end of the camp I had made many new friends,” said David Scott, from Launceston.
“The camp drew us all a lot closer to our leaders, and it made us all work as a group in order to eat or have activities. The camp succeeded. It brought the young men and leaders together and helped to unify the stake Scout force,” said Matthew Parsons, from Glenorchy.
Every leader enjoyed his associations with the young men of the camp. They seemed pleased when the boys wanted to tell them about their troubles and hopes for life.
“I’ve enjoyed getting to really know the boys I’ve been called to watch over. It has helped me to know their strengths, and this camp really opened up the lines of communication between us,” said Bishop Triffith, Devonport.
The young men left the camp with new friends, better associations with their priesthood leaders, and in many cases stronger interests in the gospel of Jesus Christ and the Scouting program. The first all-Tasmanian LDS Scout camp on Maria Island was over, and everyone agreed that it had been a smashing success.

In that company was a Mrs. Jackson. She said:
“About nine o’clock I retired. Bedding had become very scarce so I did not disrobe. I slept until, as it appeared to me, about midnight. I was extremely cold. The weather was bitter. I listened to hear if my husband breathed, he lay so still. I could not hear him. I became alarmed. I put my hand on his body, when to my horror I discovered that my worst fears were confirmed. My husband was dead. I called for help to the other inmates of the tent. They could render me no aid; and there was no alternative but to remain alone by the side of the corpse till morning. Oh, how the dreary hours drew their tedious length along. When daylight came, some of the male part of the company prepared the body for burial. And oh, such a burial and funeral service. They did not remove his clothing—he had but little. They wrapped him in a blanket and placed him in a pile with thirteen others who had died, and then covered him up with snow. The ground was frozen so hard that they could not dig a grave. He was left there to sleep in peace until the trump of God shall sound, and the dead in Christ shall awake and come forth in the morning of the first resurrection. …
“A few days after the death of my husband … the male members of the company had become reduced in number by death and those who remained were so weak and emaciated by sickness, that on reaching the camping place at night, there were not sufficient men with strength enough to raise the poles and pitch the tents. The result was that we camped out with nothing but the vault of Heaven for a roof and the stars for companions. The snow lay several inches deep upon the ground. The night was bitterly cold. I sat down on a rock with one child in my lap and one on each side of me. In that condition I remained until morning.”3

In 1832, two years after the Church was organized, two young missionaries went out in the state of New York teaching as missionaries. And there was a man by the name of John Tanner who heard that they were coming in to his community and speaking in the schoolhouse that evening. Though he was a cripple, he decided that he would go and see that those Mormon missionaries didn’t teach any false doctrine.
He was a community-minded man and he was a religious man. Though he had been a cripple for several months with a diseased leg, and was in a wheelchair, he determined to go to that meeting. And he had his son wheel him right up to the front of the stand.
As he listened to the first missionary tell about the apostasy and the need for the restoration of the gospel, he listened and said nothing to him. And as the other missionary got up to speak, John Tanner didn’t interrupt him in any way.
Then after the meeting he asked his son to go up and bring the two missionaries down to introduce them to him. He asked those missionaries if they would like to go home and stay with him that evening. They accepted the invitation and went home and discussed religion on into the early hours of the morning.
After they had discussed it for some time, he said, “If I were well enough, I think I would like to be baptized.”
The missionaries asked him if he thought the Lord could heal him. He said, “The Lord could if he wanted to.”
The missionary explained that they were elders and that the Lord had said, if there were any sick among you to let them call in the elders to pray over them and asked him if he would like to be administered to. He said he would. They administered to him. That very day he left his wheelchair never to return to it. And he walked three-quarters of a mile to be baptized.
He knew he would be criticized and ostracized, but when he heard the truth, he had the courage to accept it. I am so glad that those two missionaries went out into the field to preach the gospel; and that when John Tanner heard it, he had the courage to accept it.
And he and his family remained true to the faith. And his son Nathan Tanner remained true to the faith, and then William Tanner and his son Nathan William, who is my father, accepted the gospel and remained true to the faith. And as a result, I am here today.

Part of the Andean flood lore includes references to the rainbow as the symbol between god and man that there will never again be a universal deluge on the earth. At least two references to this tradition can be found among the Spanish writings. The following from Cabello Balboa, written in 1586, describes the Brothers Ayar as they went forth to found the city of Cuzco.
“They came to a hill that today is called Guanacauria and one day at dawn they saw the bow, or rainbow of the heavens that came to the foot of the same hill, and Mango Capac told the rest that it was a good sign that the world would not be destroyed any more by water, and that they should follow him and climb the hill, and from there they would see the place where they were to settle.”11
A similar version dating from 1572 is found in the work of Molina:
“The brothers Ayar climbed to the summit, and there they saw the rainbow of the heavens, which the natives call Guanacauri, and Manco Capaca said to them, ‘Hold this as a sign, that the world will never be destroyed again by water.’”12

Last year I met an inspired bishop and his wonderful wife. On a recent Saturday morning, they were driving to their son’s baptism and suffered the tragic and sudden loss of their darling two-year-old daughter, Tess.

The next morning their ward members gathered for sacrament meeting filled with compassion, also suffering over the loss of this perfect little girl. No one expected the bishop’s family to be at church that morning, but a couple of minutes before the meeting started, they quietly entered and took their place.

The bishop went to the stand and walked past his usual seat between his counselors and sat down instead between his priests at the sacrament table.

During that anguished and sleepless night before of searching for understanding and peace, he had received a strong impression of what his family most needed—and what his ward most needed. It was to hear the voice of their bishop, their ward Aaronic Priesthood president, their grieving father, pronounce the promises of the sacramental covenant.

So, in due course, he knelt with those priests and spoke to His Father. With the pathos of that occasion, he pronounced some of the most powerful words that anyone is ever allowed to say out loud in this lifetime.

Words of eternal consequence.

Words of ordinance.

Words of covenant.

Instruction that connects us to the very purposes of this life—and to the most magnificent outcomes of Heavenly Father’s plan for us.

Can you imagine what the congregation heard in that chapel that day—what they felt in the words that we hear every Sunday in our chapels?

“O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it, that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given them; that they may always have his Spirit to be with them. Amen” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:77).

And then: “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this [water] to the souls of all those who drink of it, that they may do it in remembrance of the blood of thy Son, which was shed for them; that they may witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they do always remember him, that they may have his Spirit to be with them. Amen” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:79).

This good father and mother testify that that promise has been fulfilled. They do, in fact, to their everlasting comfort, “have his Spirit to be with them.”

Another day of school had ended. It was September of my freshman year of high school. I made my way to the rack where I had locked my bike when I arrived at school that day.
As I walked toward my bike, I decided I would take my favorite path home along the top of a hill and down to where my house was located. The thrill of riding down a steep hill with the wind blowing through my hair and past my face was a stress reliever. I could just glide to the bottom of the hill without slowing down because there wasn’t a stop sign until the road leveled out.
I removed my bike from its chain and began to ride away from the high school. I had to ride only a block before I reached the street that would take me along the ridge of the hill. As I neared the intersection where I intended to turn, I felt an urge not to. I shrugged the feeling off, and I told myself that I was being silly. The strange feeling subsided after I made the turn, so I figured I was just being indecisive.
I neared another intersection that would provide an alternate route to my house. Again I experienced the same feeling not to proceed, only stronger. I felt pulled toward a zigzagging side street but didn’t want to take the extra time getting home. Once more, I shrugged off the feeling.
I reached the next street and turned to ride down the hill. I descended the hill, not touching my bike’s brakes at all to achieve a good speed. As I neared one of the cross streets toward the bottom of the hill, a car pulled away from the curb on the opposite side of the street and turned in front of my bicycle. He hadn’t even seen me coming. In one horrible moment, I realized why I had experienced those strange feelings. The Holy Ghost had been trying to warn me that I was in danger if I traveled the path I had chosen. I was now in immediate danger, and there was no escape.
The driver of the car now noticed me barreling down the street and managed to stop his car before the impact. At the same time, I was squeezing my brakes trying to slow down as much as I could before I crashed. I started to brace myself for the collision when a feeling came over me and caused me to relax.
My bicycle hit the car on its right front tire. I flew forward off the bike, and the left side of my face hit the windshield. My body did a somersault, and I landed sitting cross-legged on the roof of the car. My bicycle landed 20 feet behind the car.
The driver immediately got out of his car, helped me down, and called an ambulance. I remember blood dripping from my nose while I lay there on the pavement.
It didn’t take long for a crowd to gather around the scene of the accident. A family friend recognized me and sat down on the pavement to talk to me until police and paramedics arrived. She was amazed that I was laughing and talking normally.
My parents came to the hospital shortly after I arrived in the ambulance. After the doctors cleaned my face and took some X-rays, I was ready to go home—scratched, bruised, and sore.
As I discussed the entire episode with my parents, I realized how much I had learned that day. Despite my foolishness, my Heavenly Father did not desert me. I also learned the Holy Ghost’s promptings are adapted to the demands of the situation. It was because of my stubbornness and doubts that I failed to recognize those promptings for what they were.
I have a testimony that Heavenly Father continues to love us and help us. I pray every day I will be able to recognize the promptings of the Holy Ghost so I may know of my Heavenly Father’s guidance and help in my life.

Abner
I found a small unit we could rent for our barbershop. When the owner told me the cost for rent, it was more than we could afford. I asked if he could lower the cost. He called me later and said, “I want to know who I’m renting to. Bring your wife so I can meet her.”
Midalys
We prayed that he would see that we are good people. After meeting him, he said, “God is helping you. I’ve had this space for a long time. Many people have asked to rent it, but it never felt right. I feel strongly that you are good people.”
He lowered the rent for three years. I was surprised. He said the exact words my husband and I had prayed for.
Abner
We are now much more secure and peaceful. We’re making money, and we are blessed.

Recently in the mail was a query from friends in California, now retiring from schoolteaching, who indicated a desire to return to Utah and who asked, “What can we do for the Church when we return?”
My answer was, “Don’t come to Utah. Your church experience is needed out in the world. Brush up on your Norwegian that you learned as a missionary years ago.” I understand they will soon be on their way. He is thrilled with this opportunity to serve a second mission, and this time he will have an added blessing of keeping the same companion for his entire mission.

Prior to leaving for Vienna I was prompted to extend my stay in Europe by one week and fly to Berlin, Germany, to help my mother with some family history work. She was seeking out Karl’s grandparents. She had faithfully searched for many years with the hope of extending her family connections.

Before I left for Berlin I knew that I would be facing impossible odds in helping my mother find records of her ancestors. I again faced what I thought were insurmountable odds for success: I did not speak German, many of her ancestors came from small villages where records would not be easily accessible, and I had absolutely no idea where to go to find the records.

As I prayed and fasted, I told the Lord that He had chosen the weakest person possible to accomplish such a great task and that if anything came of it, it would be because of Him and not because of me.

After a few days of trying to figure out the public transportation system, I located a Family History Center in Berlin. A wonderful consultant in the center rescued me. She did not speak English, and my horrible German led us to some amusing charades as we tried to create a shared understanding of my need. In the end, she and a colleague directed me to an archive of records that was available in Berlin.

By the time I was able to access the records in the Berlin archive, I only had two days before I had to leave the country to return home. Again the Lord provided me with the knowledge and people I needed to accomplish the work. When I was lost, someone or something would guide me to the correct spot, and when I located the archive, I was blessed to have a librarian who spoke English and who was kind enough to allow me to enter the library without an appointment. His kindness and help were exactly what I needed at that time.

After locating the microfiche for the town in which my ancestors had lived, I had about six hours before the archive closed. As I scanned the records, I felt an indescribable joy the first time I recognized the family name. Still, it was not the exact record I needed. I left the archive that Monday discouraged because although I had found interesting information, I did not find the vital records we needed.

Getting into the archives for a second day seemed like an impossibility. I had already asked the librarian if I could make an appointment to come the next day, but he told me there were not any seats available. I prayed fervently, and even though there was technically no room for me in the archives, the librarian found an opening and let me into the archive to work on my last day in Berlin. That day I found the grandfather my mother had been searching for. I left with the knowledge that the Lord recognized my mother’s hard work and faith in trying to serve her ancestors. I was humbled when I realized that the Lord had taken the weakest person He could find and made me strong enough to accomplish His work.

In Primary, Pilar’s teacher, Hermana (Sister) Solana, told them how the prophets have said that we should try to be more like Jesus Christ by being kinder and more forgiving, and by treating others the way He would treat them. She asked the class to pick one day during the week and go through the whole day imagining what the Savior would do if He were there and then do it. They were to report on the results the following week. Today was the day Pilar had chosen to try the experiment.
When she first got up in the morning, she asked Heavenly Father to help her remember the experiment all day long. She was excited to see what difference it would make.
The first chance came as she waited at the corner for the bus that took her to school. When the bus came, everyone pushed and shoved up the steps in order to get a good place to sit or stand. Usually Pilar pushed and shoved along with the rest of the crowd, but today she decided that Jesus would not do that. She waited patiently for all the others to get on. As the bus made other stops, she smiled brightly at each new passenger and made room for him to pass her and move back into the bus. A few of them even smiled back.
When she got to school, she felt a bit sunnier inside than usual. Right away she noticed Juana, a girl whom nobody played with, standing by herself in a corner of the school yard. Thinking of the kindness of Jesus, Pilar went over by Juana and said, “Hola (Hello).”
Juana looked up. “What do you want?”
Pilar felt herself getting angry and wanted to storm away, then remembered that she was trying to act more Christlike. She quietly answered, “I was wondering if you’d like to play with me until class starts. I brought my jump rope.”
Juana’s face lit up. Her eyes sparkled, and she grinned the biggest grin Pilar had ever seen. They played happily until school started, and she noticed that Juana seemed happy all the rest of the day.
When school let out at one o’clock, Pilar walked down the block to her favorite corner stand, where she always bought a fried sweet-potato sandwich to eat while she waited for her bus. As she turned and walked toward the bus stop, she passed an elderly man she often saw. He lived in a cardboard box by the side of the road. She had hardly ever given much thought to him before, but today she reached down and handed him her sandwich.
“Muchas gracias, señorita (Thank you, miss),” he replied as she walked away. Somehow Pilar didn’t feel hungry at all on the way home.
When she got home from school, Mother was washing clothes in the big sink out back. Pilar offered to do the marketing. When she returned, she helped Mother cook chicken and rice for lunch.
After lunch, Pilar took a few mangos to an elderly neighbor lady. She decided to stay and visit, instead of rushing outside to play with her friends. When she got up to leave, Señora Acuña tenderly took her hand and held on tight for just a moment. As Pilar looked into her face and saw the love, tears of joy began to swell within her own eyes. So far, today had brought Pilar more happiness than any day she could remember.
Later that night, however, her happiness turned to anger when she walked into her bedroom and saw her younger brother, Ricardo, accidentally knock her favorite vase to the floor. It broke into hundreds of pieces. She forgot all about the experiment. She screamed at Ricardo, then ran to tell her mother what had happened. Ricardo ran behind her crying, “Lo siento, lo siento (I’m sorry, I’m sorry).” But Pilar was so upset that she didn’t care how many times he said that he was sorry.
Her mother swept up the pieces and took Ricardo to the other room. Pilar sat on the bed, angry and in tears. Up till then, she’d felt so good that day!
Why did this have to happen? she asked herself.
A little while later, Pilar heard a soft knock at her door. “Pasa (Come in),” she mumbled gruffly.
In came Ricardo with a small vase in his hands. Pilar recognized it as the one he had made that year in school. She knew how proud he was of it and how he had planned to save it forever. He gently handed it to her. Her heart began to ache as she realized that forgiving Ricardo was what Jesus would do. She set the vase on her desk, smiled at Ricardo, and said, “Thank you, Ricardo. Let’s go outside and see if we can find some flowers to put in it.”
The next Sunday, when it was her turn to report on the experiment, Pilar recounted the things that had happened. She told Hermana Solana and the class that the thing that surprised her the most was how happy she had been.
That night as she prayed, Pilar promised Heavenly Father that she would try to live more like Jesus every day, just as the prophets have said that we should.

The Taylors heard the restored gospel as a result of some unusual circumstances. In 1836, Parley P. Pratt was sent to Toronto by revelation to preach the gospel. Concerning Elder Pratt’s mission to Canada, Elder Heber C. Kimball had prophesied, “From the things growing out of this mission, shall the fullness of the gospel spread into England.” (See Roberts, page 35.) Elder Pratt received from a stranger a letter of introduction to a John Taylor in Toronto. But when he called at the Taylors’ home, his reception there was polite but not exactly cordial. Later, after presenting his message to the ministers in the city, Elder Pratt prepared to leave. Valise in hand, he was saying good-bye to John Taylor when a neighbor—a member of the Taylors’ religious study group—came in, offered her home for Elder Pratt to preach in, and proposed to lodge and feed him. As a result, John and Leonora Taylor heard Elder Pratt preach. This was John’s response to his group of friends:

“We are here, ostensibly in search of the truth. Hitherto we have fully investigated other creeds and doctrines and proven them false. Why should we fear to investigate Mormonism? This gentleman, Mr. Pratt, has brought to us many doctrines that correspond with our own views. … We have prayed to God to send us a messenger, if He has a true Church on earth. … I desire to investigate his doctrines and claims to authority, and shall be very glad if some of my friends will unite with me in this investigation. But if no one will unite with me, be assured I shall make the investigation alone. If I find his religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be; but if false, then I shall expose it.” (See Roberts, pages 38–39.)

For three weeks, John Taylor followed Elder Pratt from place to place, copying down sermons as Elder Pratt delivered them—and then privately comparing them with the scriptures. Satisfied that the missionary was teaching the truth, John and Leonora Taylor joined the Church. Twenty-eight-year-old John was ordained an elder and was placed in charge of the Church in Canada when the missionaries returned to their homes.

In December of 2019, while serving in Baltimore, Thierry and Nathalie were invited to meet with President Russell M. Nelson. The meeting was virtual. The prophet asked mission president Mutombo what the most important thing was they had learned on their mission. President Mutombo answered, “trying to follow the Savior’s footsteps every day.”

President Nelson then extended a call to Thierry to serve as a General Authority Seventy. Thierry was 43 years old. For the next nearly 27 years, he will devote his life to the Savior’s work. On Saturday afternoon, April 4, 2020, while watching general conference as a family in Baltimore, Maryland, the six Mutombo children learned of their father’s new assignment. Walking in the Savior’s footsteps would continue for many years.

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

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

A true story from Argentina.
“I’m looking at a little person who will have a birthday soon! Who could she be?” Mamá asked.
“It’s me!” Maria said, jumping up and down. She was turning eight the next week.
Mamá nodded. “And it will be a special birthday. Do you know why?”
“Because I will be baptized!”
“Yes! Papá and I have a special gift to help you prepare for this important step.”
“A gift? But it’s not my birthday yet,” Maria said.
“It’s a special gift that will help you to remember the covenant you will make with Heavenly Father. You can open it after dinner.”
Maria kept thinking about the word covenant. She couldn’t wait for Papá to come home. She offered to set the table for dinner and felt her heart warm. Dinner seemed extra delicious that night.
Afterward, she sat on the couch between her parents.
“How do you feel about baptism?” Papá asked.
“I’m excited!” Maria was working hard to prepare for her baptism. She had started reading the Book of Mormon. She even made a poster to help her remember to pray every night.
“That is great! Do you have any questions?”
“Yes. What is a covenant?”
“That’s a good question,” Mamá said. “A covenant is a promise with God. When you are baptized, you promise that you are willing to take upon you Jesus Christ’s name, that you will keep God’s commandments, and that you’ll serve Him all your life.”
“That sounds like the sacrament prayer,” Maria said.
“You’re right,” said Papá. “Our Heavenly Father also promises the Holy Ghost will be with you, guiding and encouraging you.”
“And now your surprise.” Mamá handed Maria a shiny wrapped gift.
Maria opened it to find a beautiful pink journal and a pen. “Thank you! I love it!”
“This journal is for you to write the feelings and thoughts you receive from the Holy Ghost.”
“Baptism is a big decision,” Papá said. “You can pray and ask God about it.”
That night, Maria knelt by her bed. She prayed, “Heavenly Father, is it right for me to be baptized?” She paused, listening. A clear “yes” filled her mind, and her heart filled with joy.
She pulled out her journal and wrote about what she felt. The next morning she told her parents about her answer. She knew that getting baptized was the right thing to do.
At last it was her birthday, and Maria would be baptized. She and Papá dressed in white. Mamá hugged her. “You’ll feel warm in your heart.”
The water was cold, but Maria felt clean and pure—and warm inside.
That night, Maria opened her journal to a blank page and started writing.
“When Papá said, ‘Receive the Holy Ghost,’ I really could feel it,” she wrote.
She wanted to always remember her baptism day. She was ready to keep her covenant, knowing the Holy Ghost would always be there to help her.
Maria is grown up now but kept writing in her journal every day! When she sees her journals, she remembers the covenant she made at baptism.
Illustrations by Zoë Bennett

I converted to the Church as a young boy of 13. One summer day in 1971, my father took me to town for our haircut. While the barber was cutting my hair, suddenly two American ladies arrived at the barbershop. They were introduced by the barber to my father as missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He told Father that they have a good doctrine that he can try investigating. At first, Father was hesitant to accept the invitation but he was finally persuaded to accept an appointment at home.
So we were taught the true gospel of Jesus Christ and were given a copy of the Book of Mormon. My parents read and pondered the sacred book. As they studied its contents, and they felt its power. They decided to be baptized with us their children.
Before becoming members of the true church, our mortal path seemed dark and hopeless, we had no knowledge of God’s plan, and we didn’t know about eternal life. Our motto was “eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die,” but when we found the true church, our path became brighter with all the ordinances and the covenants we made with God.
Our baptism into the Church allowed us to enter the covenant path which will bring us back to God’s presence. If we continue pressing forward, keeping the commandments, and enduring to the end, we will have eternal life. We can achieve this by making, keeping, and honoring our covenants at baptism and at the temple.