Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Richard Mia
One Sunday following the final session of a general conference, I felt a very specific prompting to sign into my FamilySearch account and do some family history. I was reluctant to work on my family history because I had never had much success with my other attempts. My family is quite vigilant in family history, and I just had a thought in the back of my mind that there was nothing left to do.
I sat back and sighed with frustration as I looked at the dead end I had tried working on for years, hoping that this would finally be the day where I would find some information. I began my regular searches through census, marriage, and birth records, and after an hour I found nothing. Then the Spirit that had been whispering to me all weekend through the conference sessions prompted me to pray and find out who was ready for their work to be done now.
As I finished my prayer, I went back to my own name and moved forward through the line. I distinctly felt the Spirit guide me from one line to another until I ended up on my grandfather’s side of the family. Over the next hour the Spirit flourished in the room, and I came away with six names to take to the temple. As I finished requesting the names for the temple, I glanced down at some of the records I had received information from. My eyes swelled with tears and my heart was full of joy—the information had come from indexers who had volunteered their time to enter records for my ancestors. In gratitude, I indexed names for others for the next hour.
That day my testimony swelled with thankfulness for two reasons. One, that during general conference, the Spirit had led me to do family history work and to know which names to search for. Second, for Church members all over the world who index names so that people like me can find our ancestors clearly and quickly and hasten their work. It was a clear and powerful testimony to me of God’s work spreading forth upon the whole earth.

There are times in our marriage that require a stellar dose of patience.
On our 25th wedding anniversary, Kathy and I were in Philadelphia speaking to missionaries. I received a call from President Boyd K. Packer of the Twelve. At the end of our conversation, I commented, “President Packer, today is our 25th wedding anniversary. Don’t you think that is a great accomplishment?” Without pausing, he responded, “It is for Kathy!” With your hope and faith in Christ, allow the Lord to expand your spiritual gifts of understanding and patience.

I am reminded of an experience I had at the end of World War II. I received a telephone call from a man in New York, a multimillionaire who had a son in a military camp just outside of Salt Lake City. This young man had expected to be shipped overseas. Then the war ended and he remained in this camp, crowded like a sardine in a can. The boy was discouraged, and his father was worried. “Would you see if you can cheer him up a bit?” the father asked. I said I would be happy to.
I called the young man and invited him into the office for a little visit. When he arrived, I said, “Would you like to go have dinner with the family? My wife doesn’t know you’re coming, but you’ll be welcome.” He said, “I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do tonight.” We went out and had our dinner. We had our prayer. We gathered around the piano afterwards and enjoyed ourselves with some singing. Then after we visited for a while, I drove him down to his bus.
In a few days I got a letter from his father, and you’d have thought I’d saved that boy’s life. The father quoted the letter from his son, “Father, I didn’t know that there were any people in this world that lived like that.”
Yes, we take it for granted. Here was a man worth millions of dollars—could buy his son anything—and yet this simple thing of prayer and devotion in the home passed him by.

In the same year, Dr. Hansen made his medical discovery, two ecclesiastical leaders from different faiths first made their appearance on the Kalaupapa peninsula. One was a Latter-day Saint named Jonathan Hawaii Napela, the other a Belgian priest, Father Damien J. De Veuster, who was canonized by the Roman Catholic Church in 2009. Napela was born on the island of Maui in 1813, became a district judge in 1848, and converted to Mormonism in 1852. He was a tremendous aid to early LDS missionary work on the Hawaiian Islands as he fed and housed the elders, helped them learn his native language, and aided George Q. Cannon with the translation of the Book of Mormon. Perhaps his greatest contribution was his example as a loving husband. When his beloved wife Kitty contracted the disease, Jonathan chose to remain with her in the settlement and act as her kokua, a Hawaiian word meaning “helper.” Consequently, Jonathan wrote a heart-felt letter in his native language, Hawaiian, to the Board of Health, pleading that he might be allowed to stay with his wife:

"On August 3, 1843 I took my wife as my legally married wife and on that same day I vowed before God to care for my wife in health and sickness, and until death do us part…. I am 60 years old and do not have much longer to live. During the brief time remaining, I want to be with my wife. My wife has also lived a long life, but with this disease, it will quickly shorten her life. Such is the reason for this petition."4

Fortunately, Jonathan’s request was granted, and he spent the remaining years of his life at Kalaupapa with Kitty. While there, Napela more than just his wife. Not long after his arrival, he was called as the leader of the LDS Church on the Kalaupapa peninsula, a calling he held from 1873 until his death in 1879, from the effects of Hansen’s disease.5

It was a lazy day in August. The sun was hot, and Tommy and Elija were lying on the ground near the creek, enjoying the shade of a big cottonwood tree. They had been assigned to watch the thirty head of cattle, which were grazing a half mile upstream.
“Herding cattle might be important,” said Tommy, “but it isn’t very exciting.”
Just then the cattle started to low. The boys heard them moving around as if they were frightened. “Something is bothering them,” said Elija. “Let’s see what it is.”
In a moment the two boys were running toward the cattle, but they stopped short when they saw a small band of Indians coming toward them. They had no way of knowing whether or not they were friendly. But Tommy knew that the Omaha Indians had given the Mormon pioneers permission to camp on their land for the winter and to use their water and their timber.
When the boys came within talking distance, a young Indian stepped forward and spoke to them in halting English. “Last night our enemies, the Iowas, attacked our camp. All of our men except Chief Big Head and I were on a hunting trip. The Iowas took our horses and all of our food. They wounded many women and children. Chief Big Head they left for dead. He will die if he does not get help.”
Tommy looked down on the willow bed that the Indians had made for their chief. What he saw made him want to close his eyes.
“I’ll go for help,” he said.
“I’ll go with you,” said Elija.
The young Indian put his arm across Elija’s chest to keep him from going. “You stay here till boy gets back.”
Tommy knew that Elija’s safety depended on his speedy return, so he ran almost all of the two miles to Winter Quarters.
He went at once to the home of his bishop and told him what had happened. “The Indians really need help,” he concluded, “and they’re keeping Elija with them to make sure I bring some back.”
Bishop Morley listened quietly; then he put his arm around the boy to comfort him while he thought about what to do. “We must find Brigham Young,” he decided. “He might be down at the ferry. You take my horse and ride down there as fast as you can. In the meantime I will look around here.”
The ferry was twelve miles away, and it took Tommy an hour to get there. When he arrived, he found Brigham Young and told him his story.
“We will help the Indians, of course,” Brigham Young said, “but our first concern is for Elija. You must get back to him as soon as possible. Take your wagon and ask Bishop Morley to take his. These two wagons should be enough to bring the badly wounded to Winter Quarters. I’ll meet you at my house.”
Bishop Morley was waiting for Tommy. They took the two wagons and went to get Elija and the Indians.
When they came to the small sad camp, Elija ran up and began talking to Tommy. “At first they were afraid I would run away,” said Elija, “but when I took off my shirt and wet it in the creek so I could cool the forehead of Chief Big Head, they knew I could be trusted.”
“I’m so glad you are all right,” Tommy said.
Bishop Morley and the young Indian helped Chief Big Head into Tommy’s wagon, and the boys started back to Winter Quarters. The other Indians who were badly wounded were put into the Morley wagon. The rest of the Indians walked beside it.
The sun was almost setting when the wagons arrived at the home of Brigham Young. He soon determined that the Indian chief would need special care. He turned to Tommy and said, “Please go and ask your mother if she could take Chief Big Head into her home and nurse him back to health.”
Tommy was off in a flash. He returned in a few minutes with his mother, who said, “Of course, I’ll take care of him.”
Brigham Young smiled and said, “You won’t be sorry. An Indian never forgets a kindness.”
The weeks that followed were anxious ones for Tommy and his mother. Chief Big Head was very sick and needed constant care. Either Tommy or his mother stayed day and night by his side. Then one day, without any warning, the Indian got out of bed. “Chief Big Head well,” he declared. “I must go to my people.”
That night he left Winter Quarters and took with him all of the Indians who had been staying there.
Sometime after this, Tommy was so sick with black canker that his mother was afraid he was not going to get well. Unexpectedly, Chief Big Head came to their door and handed Tommy’s mother some horseradish. “Grind this,” he said, “and make tea for boy. Tea will make him well.” Without even waiting to be thanked, the Indian turned and was soon out of sight.
The horseradish did help Tommy. Afterwards, many who had black canker, a form of scurvy, were given horseradish tea as medicine, and it helped to save their lives too.
“Chief Big Head didn’t forget, did he, Mother,” Tommy asked one day.
And his mother answered, “No, Tommy, and neither will we.”

In July 2013, Jesse B., 19, of Hampshire, England, was practicing for the first British Pageant with hundreds of Church members near the Preston England Temple. While he was excited for the pageant to begin, Jesse’s attention was divided between learning his part and thinking about a mailbox nearly 200 miles away where his mission call would soon be delivered.
It wasn’t long before Jesse’s family texted him a picture of his missionary envelope, and he learned that his dad would bring it to him a few days later. During an afternoon rehearsal, Jesse’s dad walked in, call in hand. Rehearsal stopped and Jesse opened his mission call in front of the whole cast. When he read the words, “You are assigned to labor in the Korea Seoul Mission,” he was ecstatic.
Jesse knew the truth of the gospel, so he was willing to spend two years in Korea sharing it. “I wouldn’t serve a mission without the compass of truth,” he said. “Truth is truth. It isn’t necessarily the easy way, but it’s the right way.”
That’s a message he’d heard a lot about in preparing for the pageant, which tells the story of the early Saints in the British Isles. In the opening scene, two of the first missionaries to go to Britain see a banner that reads, “Truth will prevail,” and this becomes their missionary motto. That motto resonated with Jesse too, and it’s a message he’s anxious to share as a missionary.

A 14-year-old sister was all dressed up to go to a Young Women activity at a time in her life when she felt very unsure about herself. She was quietly and self-consciously inching her way toward the front door, hoping not to be noticed by all the young men in the living room who were visiting with her older brother Russell. She was given a life-changing boost when her older brother interrupted his conversation and said to her in front of all his friends, “My, Emily, you look pretty tonight!” A small thing? No. There are young women who claim that they would not have made it through those growing-up years without the encouragement and support of their older brothers.

I was flying to a stake conference years ago and sat by a German engineer. He was in charge of a division of a West German company and was living in Salt Lake City. He was impressed with Utah and its people. When he learned that I was a General Authority of the Church, he inquired, “The one thing I don’t understand about you Mormons is: What is this compulsion you seem to have to travel all over the world telling everybody about your religion?” What he didn’t say, but I’m sure was on his mind, was “Why don’t you stay home and mind your own business?”

I responded along these lines: “Are you a Christian?”

He replied, “Yes.”

I asked, “Do you remember the dramatic change that took place in the Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus?”

He said, “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Well, he had this religious experience.”

I said, “He was first obsessed to do everything he could to destroy the church, and then, amazingly, he completely reversed himself and even with greater intensity he became its champion. Quite a turnaround, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it was.”

I said, “Let’s turn to Acts 26 and recall that experience.”

We read the account of Paul’s defense before King Agrippa, how he, in the middle of the day, had seen a light and heard a voice. The Lord spoke to him, saying:

I am Jesus whom thou persecutest.
But rise, and stand upon thy feet: for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee;
Delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles . . . ,
To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me.
[Then Paul said,] Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision. [Acts 26:15–19]

I asked my seatmate, “For all practical purposes, did Paul have a viable alternative but to accept the commission he received from the Lord?”

The man answered, “No.”

I continued: “A similar commission has been given in our day. Let’s move the scene ahead some 1,800 years. A young boy is confused by the conflicting claims of the churches of his day. As he pondered his dilemma, he read a simple solution in the epistle of James: ‘If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.’ The boy accepted the invitation. He went into the woods on his father’s farm and prayed for understanding.”

I read to my friend from the boy’s written testimony:

I kneeled down and began to offer up the desires of my heart to God. I had scarcely done so, when immediately I was seized upon by some power which entirely overcame me. . . .

. . . Just at this moment of great alarm, I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, . . . which descended gradually until it fell upon me.

. . . When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him! [JS—H 1:15–17; emphasis in original]

I related to the man from West Germany that the boy was told that God’s church with a fullness of the truth was not on the earth but that he would be an instrument in its restoration.

Aside from his family who believed him, the boy found that sharing his experience with the clergy and his neighbors brought ridicule, rejection, and persecution. The Prophet Joseph Smith later stated in response to their behavior:

However, it was nevertheless a fact that I had beheld a vision. I have thought since, that I felt much like Paul, when he made his defense before King Agrippa, and related the account of the vision he had when he saw a light, and heard a voice; but still there were but few who believed him; some said he was dishonest, others said he was mad; and he was ridiculed and reviled. But all this did not destroy the reality of his vision. He had seen a vision, he knew he had, and all the persecution under heaven could not make it otherwise; . . . though they should persecute him unto death. . . .
So it was with me. I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two Personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it. [JS—H 1:24–25]

“Now, my friend,” I asked the German engineer, “if this young man told the truth, and I am convinced that he did, then did he have any other alternative than to testify, like Paul, of his visitation?”

The man said, “No, I guess not.”

With deep conviction, I concluded: “That is the reason we are compelled to send our missionaries into the world. We are convinced that through Joseph Smith, the restoration of the kingdom of God has occurred. The heavens have been reopened, divine authority has been bestowed, and the doctrines and ordinances of salvation are again restored.”

The plane landed and we went our separate ways.

“And remember, boys, never, ever, give up!”
Brother Wolff’s words seemed to ring in the silent room, silent not from that last few minutes of afternoon that languish before the final bell, but from the rapt attention of the young men. They knew Brother Wolff’s history. He had joined the Church many years ago when he moved to Queensland, only to lapse into an antagonistic inactivity after a simple disagreement with another member. He nursed that antagonism into full-fledged hatred over the years. A loving friend and home teacher had worked consistently with Brother Wolff until that wonderful day when he had, as he himself phrased it, “come home.”
So they knew that the lesson he had given on home teaching inactive families was straight from the heart. Young as they were, they felt his sincerity as he spoke to them of the bitter agony of the lost ones gone astray and the great joy of those who finally come home.

Then the unthinkable happened. I received a gut-wrenching, life-shattering phone call.
“Call 911!” my distressed husband yelled. “I’m pinned under the tractor!”
I called for help and then made it in record time to the land he had been clearing, passing a long line of emergency vehicles on the gravel road to our property in Pea Ridge, Arkansas, USA. Barry was alive, but he was indeed pinned beneath the engine of a tractor that had flipped.
Using hydraulic rescue tools, emergency workers lifted the tractor and pulled Barry free. His legs, soaked in diesel fuel, looked broken in several places. He was rushed to a trauma center, where he received a priesthood blessing before having his legs X-rayed.
We were surprised that not one bone was broken, but the back of one of Barry’s legs had been severely burned by diesel fuel. The crush injury had also led to toxification of his kidneys. His life was in jeopardy.
After Barry spent five tense days in the hospital, his toxin levels finally began to drop. Months of dressing changes, skin grafts, surgeries, and hyperbaric oxygen therapy followed. Once he felt well enough, Barry resumed his sales job from home.

Several years ago, my wife, Shelly, and I were called to preside over the Washington DC North Mission. Shortly after we began our service in June 2019, local Church members Brent and Meg Pratt invited us and our five children over for dinner at their home in Potomac, Maryland. Brent and I happen to be distant cousins. Before we sat down to eat, Brent showed us a painting that he had commissioned from the talented Latter-day Saint artist Julie Rogers. The painting features our shared great-great-grandparents, William and Rachel Atkin, pulling a handcart with all their worldly belongings and two infant children across the fast-moving Green River in Wyoming.

This is how William Atkin later remembered that moment from August 1859:
We again labored in pulling our cart, and when we came to Green River, we found the [handcart] train had crossed and gone; and we were alone on its banks. We looked at the river, and I said to my wife, “We cannot cross this river alone.” She said, “No, but the Lord will help us over.” At these words, my heart seemed to leap for joy, and I said, “Yes, He surely will.” . . . [We] then knelt down on the ground, in all humbleness, and in the sincerity of our souls we told our Heavenly Father that we were doing all in our power to keep His commandments to gather to the land of Zion and now we had come to this river, and we could not cross it alone, and we knew that all power was in His hand, and we relied on Him to assist us over.

After pleading for help, William and Rachel then experienced a miracle:
We started into the stream, and as we did so we could see the deep water just ahead of us, and the next step we expected to step into the deep water, but when we took that step, the deep water was still ahead, and thus it was all the way across, and to our surprise we had not wet the axletree of our cart, and we were truly thankful to our Heavenly Father that we landed on the other bank in safety.

My great-great-grandparents’ difficult choices to accept the gospel in England, cross the Atlantic by ship, pull a handcart a thousand miles over rocky terrain, and remain faithful to their covenants in a new home profoundly changed generations of people. The decision by the Atkins to consecrate and gather with the Latter-day Saints, even if it meant crossing the Green River at their loneliest moment, made it possible for me, as their great-great-grandson, to be here today enjoying the blessings of the gospel.

Usually we think of the bishop as the one who dispenses the comfort and advice needed in a ward to his family and to others. But when death took the son of her bishop and his wife, JoAnne spent countless hours talking with the grieving mother. JoAnne demonstrated a real ability to rely on the Spirit as she attempted to help. Her Ph.D. study is in death and grieving, so she knew how to help from a clinical as well as a sisterly perspective. JoAnne’s skill and spiritual sensitivity blessed a whole family. The mother told others in the ward that JoAnne often answered her prayers through an unexpected phone call or visit.

When I heard the story, I felt good that the bishop and his wife let JoAnne have this opportunity to give as a way of expressing her love and sympathy. This was that family’s season to be the receivers and JoAnne’s time to be the giver.

Another commitment to follow the pattern during those college years was to actively be involved in home evening group meetings and activities. I can tell you that habit had a direct positive impact on my life and the lives of my children—literally. It was in my home evening group that I found their dad—my true love. Where would our children be today if I had skipped out on home evening? Because I was following the pattern at that time in my life, I was also prepared to be sealed with him in the House of the Lord.

This tenderness of heart allowed Brother Quasie to be touched by the Spirit when he first heard about the Church. In 1986, when he was 16 years old, the Church was new in the Cape Coast area. One night, a friend invited him to see a movie in the town open market. It was a movie about Joseph Smith’s First Vision and the Book of Mormon. After watching the movie, he felt that it was true and wanted to learn more but wasn’t sure how to get more information. Then he met Elder and Sister Nelson from the United States. They taught him the gospel by having Anthony proselyte with them and after a week, they asked him if would like to be baptized. “I decided to be baptized without consulting my parents, who were Catholic. I took that decision independently”, he said.
In those days, baptisms in Cape Coast were done in the ocean. On 30 April 1986, Brother Quasie was baptized on the same beach that the first Ghanaian members had been baptized a few years earlier.

Her son Joseph, still scarred from the death of his father, was now orphaned as a young teenager. His life needed healing as he battled the demons spawned by tragic circumstance. The healing came, but not quickly and not until he travelled thousands of miles away to this land where he served what would become the first of three missions to these islands. Part of the healing came through sincere dedication to the work of God. Part of it came from the humbling experience of loneliness, strange food and language, and intense physical hardship. Part of it came during an extended illness of his own when he was succored at the hands of a Hawaiian woman, Ma Manuhii, who brought again into his life the tenderness of a loving mother. Thus, this troubled lad through the refining effect of these trials and many others that would come during his life, through obedience, and through the power of the Atonement was transformed to eventually become a revered prophet of God.

In my first year of high school, an eating disorder took over my life. I told everyone I was OK so they wouldn’t ask questions, but I was cold, weak, and tired all the time from a lack of food. I lost interest in the things I used to love. I even stopped praying to Heavenly Father. I felt guilty for not being the person I thought I should be.
At first, I refused to believe I had a problem. But eventually I got a strong feeling I should tell my close friend about my struggles. I had no idea that opening up to someone I trusted would save my life.
My friend told my parents what was going on, out of concern for me. When I finally told them the truth myself, I felt Heavenly Father’s love more strongly than I ever had before. It radiated through the love that my parents and the rest of my friends and family showed me. Their Christlike support helped me accept that I did have an eating disorder—and that, with the help of Heavenly Father, I was going to get through it.
Starting my recovery was the most difficult journey I’d ever been on. I was in the hospital after school every day for counseling and treatment. When the road started to feel hopeless, I found comfort through prayer and reading my scriptures.
I still struggle with my eating disorder, but it no longer controls my life. My Heavenly Father understands my trials, my heartache, and my guilt, and I know now that I didn’t go through it all on my own. When I see myself through Heavenly Father’s eyes, I sense my eternal destiny. I can feel His love for me—a love that can help me overcome anything.
The author lives in Alabama, USA.

Sometimes our guide, like a mariner, works closely with us, teaching us what we need to know so we can successfully navigate life. In many cases the mariner accomplishes this by setting the example for us to follow. Such was the case with Patricia Horiuchi’s father, Frank.

After meeting the missionaries, Frank began regularly inviting them over for dinner. Soon he started taking the lessons. But no one else in his family wanted anything to do with the Church. “When we saw the missionaries coming,” Patricia says, “we would all run away—me and my younger brothers and sisters.”

Then Frank was baptized in July 2007 by the mission president, Nelson Bleak. It was a defining moment for Patricia and her siblings.

“I saw my father starting to change,” she says. “I knew that if the gospel could touch my father’s heart, it could touch mine and change my life. So I decided to study with the sister missionaries, and they challenged me to study the Book of Mormon and the Bible. My brother and I had had a fight before that, and I had never forgiven him. Then I read in the scriptures that if you forgive others, God will forgive you.” (See 3 Nephi 13:14–15.)

Patricia realized she had to forgive her brother in order to begin changing her life, be clean, and have peace. So she did.

“After I threw away my bad attitudes and changed to a new person who kept the commandments, I was so excited. I knew I had to get baptized so I could be in the true Church,” she says. “The Church put me on the right track. It separated me from bad influences. It taught me to respect my parents, to stay in school, and to keep on the right track.”

After the war, her family rebuilt their lives. One day, Vinca and her parents were staying in a summer home in Aarhus in Jutland. There they happened to meet a pair of missionaries, who were seeking a place to stay. The young men were so kind and friendly, Vinca’s parents agreed to let them board in the guest quarters.
“I attended church with them for a short time,” Vinca recalls, “but my family wasn’t really into religion at all. My father was of Jewish descent, and my mother was Lutheran, but we weren’t raised in a religion. And then I had to return to school.”
The missionaries later visited her briefly in Copenhagen. Although Vinca enjoyed the visit, she was not yet ready to accept the gospel.
“I moved to Salt Lake City around 1950,” Vinca says. “I was a nurse, but I had to renew my certificate to practice in the U.S.”
The move gave her a chance to learn English better. It also gave her another opportunity to learn about the Church. She lived in the Beehive House and worked at a doctor’s office across the street. She also played the cello in the Utah Symphony and made a number of good friends.
“I attended church with them too. And I walked on Temple Square during my lunch hour every day. But I still thought of religion as something you could decide to make a part of your life as you liked.”
After two years in Salt Lake, Vinca moved to Sacramento, California, USA, and lived for a short time with the family of one of the missionaries who had taught her in Denmark. When she made enough money as a surgical nurse to support herself, she moved out on her own. She and the missionary dated and eventually became engaged.
“Things didn’t work out,” Vinca recalls, and when they broke off their engagement, she moved on, losing touch with Church members.
Not long after, Vinca met Ward, a dentist and oral surgeon who was born and raised in Sacramento. He was a strong, handsome man who had served as a navy officer during the war. Though 11 years older than Vinca, he swept her off her feet, and the two were married in 1954.
They bought a home not far from his practice. Though they could not have children, they had a wonderful, loving marriage. They worked, they traveled, he painted, and she continued to play her music. Life was good for many years.
Ward passed away in 1985. Vinca lived on in their home until about 1999, when she started feeling anxious to move. Her home was large, more than she needed, and she felt a desire for change. She discovered a small town that suited her in Haines, Alaska. She retired there, and so things would have ended if the missionaries had not come knocking on her door once more in 2006.
At last, after many chances and many years, the timing was right.
“I never really had known much about religion,” Vinca says, “but I knew some things that made me ask questions, things that disappointed me or seemed strange.
“When I learned about this gospel, everything just made sense: the plan of salvation, what is expected of us, the promises made, the Book of Mormon. I like especially the Church doctrine of temple work for those who pass away who have not been introduced to the gospel. I felt at ease about it; it was something I could accept because it was clear and open to me, like coming home.
“I finally did what I should have done a long time ago. I don’t know why it took me so long. I had met a lot of wonderful people, and they all had some influence in my decision to join the Church. It did take years, but getting baptized was the best thing I ever did.”
Vinca was baptized on October 14, 2006—on her husband’s birthday. Just a year later, she attended the temple for the first time and was sealed to Ward (by proxy) for time and all eternity. For Vinca, the experience of attending the temple and of being sealed to the love of her life “was unbelievable, beautiful.”
Having gained this supernal blessing of being sealed to her beloved husband, Vinca desires now to share temple blessings with her relatives. Though she is 86 years old and suffers from kidney failure, she is motivated.
“I hope my husband and his parents and my parents and my own brothers and sisters will accept the gospel. I have a lot of temple work to get done.
“One of my main projects in life now is to do as much temple work as I can, as much genealogy as possible. I feel I have a reason for living here. Even if I live to be 100, it’s all right. I have things to do now. It feels good, really, to be able to do it.”
As Vinca turns her gaze back to her house to head inside, she is filled with the hope that comes from the gospel of Jesus Christ. Being a member of this Church “has been a blessing in so many countless ways. You feel peace of mind. You feel stronger. When things are absolutely gorgeous, you feel, ‘Oh boy, this is heaven.’ It makes you feel grateful for living.”
Vinca lives with a grateful heart—because the fire of the gospel and the hope of eternities with her loving husband burns bright within her.

Timmy* had seen the Logan Utah Temple many times when he went shopping in Logan with Mom. He always looked for the temple during the drive. He especially liked seeing it lit up at night. It towered over everything else in the city, as if it was keeping watch over everyone.
Today as they traveled to Logan, it wasn’t for shopping, and he looked forward to seeing the temple even more. He was going there with his family to be sealed together forever. He couldn’t wait until they arrived!
He hummed “I Love to See the Temple,”† one of his favorite songs. Today it meant even more to him. Last Monday, the family had had a special family home evening to talk about what was going to happen when they went to the temple and what it would mean for their family. He knew that after today, his family could be together forever.
He was glad about that. He couldn’t imagine not having his mom and dad and sisters with him always. Even though he didn’t always get along well with his sisters—they sometimes got into his room and into his things—he still wanted to have them forever. All week they seemed especially cute, and he couldn’t help being nice to them.
They were six-year-old twins, and sometimes he felt kind of left out. No matter what, they always had each other, so sometimes he felt a little lonely. After his family had started going to church, though, he realized that he was never really alone. Heavenly Father was always with him, no matter what. He could pray to Him at any time, and He would be there to help him.
Timmy’s mom and dad had been raised in the Church, but it wasn’t until they moved back to Mom’s hometown that they started going to church every week. The missionaries had come and given them the discussions about Joseph Smith and how he had prayed in the Sacred Grove. They said that Heavenly Father had told Joseph that none of the churches were true. He had received the priesthood and restored the true church of Jesus Christ. Timmy liked to listen to these stories about Joseph Smith.
One night, the missionaries brought a video about the Savior visiting the Nephites in America. Timmy really enjoyed it. He thought about what it would be like to sit at Jesus’ knee with angels all around and to hear Jesus speak just to him. His family started to have family prayer every night, and he could tell that the spirit in their home had changed. He knew that the Holy Ghost was with them.
Now as they drove to the temple, he could feel in his heart that Heavenly Father was pleased with them. “Mom, how much longer before we get there?” he asked. He was getting impatient even though they had left the house only ten minutes ago.
“It won’t take us very long. Just watch out the window for the temple,” Mom said.
“I bet I see the temple first,” Sarah piped up.
“I bet I do!” Suzy exclaimed.
They all watched for it eagerly as they came into Logan. Suddenly all three cried out, “There it is!”
Timmy’s heart beat a little faster. Mom and Dad had come to the temple yesterday morning to receive their own endowments. Today they would all be sealed together as a family.
Dad pulled up in front of the temple to let them out while he went to park the car. Timmy’s grandparents were already there. He could see them standing inside the doorway. He wanted to run inside and give them a big hug, but this place seemed too quiet and too special to run. He walked reverently, but he couldn’t help jumping into Grandpa’s open arms.
When Dad came, a woman said that she would take Timmy, Sarah, and Suzy into another room, where they would wait till it was time to be sealed to their parents. Timmy wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Mom, but she said that it would be all right and that they would be together soon. Timmy took his sisters’ hands and followed the woman into a room like the nursery at Primary.
The temple workers had two white dresses for Sarah and Suzy to wear and a white jumpsuit (clothing in which the shirt and pants are attached) for Timmy. Mom and Dad had told him that in the temple they would wear all white, just like when Timmy was baptized.
Finally it was time to change their clothes and go upstairs to one of the sealing rooms. Sister Smith took them in an elevator to the third floor. They stood outside a door until it was opened, and then Timmy and his sisters went into the sealing room.
Their grandparents, some aunts and uncles, and Mom and Dad were in the room. Timmy thought that Mom looked beautiful all dressed in white. She and Dad, also dressed in white, looked really happy, even though she had a tear in her eye.
Timmy felt a warmth like he had never felt before. He felt like he wanted to cry, too. Mom looked at him and smiled. It took only a few minutes, and they were sealed forever.
As they stood up, Timmy’s grandmothers both came and put their arms around him and his sisters. One of them said, “Look in the mirror. See—your family now goes on forever.”
Timmy hadn’t noticed the mirrors, or even what the room looked like when he first came in, but now he could see that there were mirrors lining the walls in front of him and behind him. They went from floor to ceiling and reflected everyone in the room. A big chandelier seemed to cast a spotlight over Timmy, his sisters, and his mom and dad, who were all standing in the middle of the room with their arms around each other. Timmy couldn’t help but cry now. He felt a little silly, but Mom bent down, took him in her arms, and said, “Timmy, now you will be my big boy forever!” and Timmy could see that she was crying, too. Everyone came and gave them hugs and congratulated them.
Later, when Timmy and his sisters changed out of the white “temple clothes,” Sister White gave them each a certificate with their names and a picture of the temple on it for their books of remembrance. The certificate said that on September 11, 1998, they were sealed to their family for time and all eternity.

He writes:
Our faculty should be commended [for its excellence. Surely there can’t be a finer academic group anywhere.] But the challenge [to excel] was not given to the faculty alone. Even those of us who are not educators per se have accepted the challenge to strive for that admirable goal. They are the custodians, grounds keepers, electricians, carpenters, painters, plumbers, and auto mechanics. They work in the heating plant. They are the architects, accountants, upholsterers, and so many others who often contribute above and beyond the call of duty. These are physical contributions, seen immediately and evident to all. As visitors arrive on our campus, they often comment on the beauty of the grounds. As they view the building, they marvel at the architecture, and time later time they refer to the cleanliness of the building. The care given these surroundings makes these buildings temples of learning, [often] named for apostles and prophets of the Lord. Here, of all places on earth, we should be able to observe how the world might be if excellence were its goal. . . .

[I was taught the gospel by two missionaries and was baptized into] a small branch of the Church in northwestern Ontario. . . .

I dreamed of a faraway Zion, a place In the West called Utah, and I hoped that one day I would see that place so important to me as a new convert. In the Church magazines I would read of a university owned and operated by our church, a university dedicated to the same gospel ideals that those missionaries taught. How would it be to live in such a place? Pictures of templed hills, chapels, universities, and well-kept homes flashed unceasingly before my eyes. But mine was to be a much different experience, for we met in the modest surroundings of a house [which served as our] chapel. . . . There was no beautiful architecture making the building conducive to the attitude of worship and [there was] no steeple drawing the gaze heavenward. . . .

What I would have given at that time to have met in a lovely edifice built with worship in mind, where my non-LDS friends could have come and been awed by the Church I belonged to. As years go by I find myself embarrassed by [those] presumptuous desires [then] for something far better than that which we had.

[Now, looking back on that experience, I realize that] though our church house may have been small and plain, I cherish the fond memories of that sacred spot. . . . I reflect on the care we gave to the grounds, the edging, the mowing, the planting of flowers. Inside we dusted and cleaned. The smell of furniture polish floated freely on the cool spring breeze making it all so clean and fresh. The windows sparkled like crystal in the sunlight. No temple custodians could care for their grounds with any more affection than did we. . . .

. . . In retrospect . . . I am now grateful for ­having had that experience which allows me to appreciate even more profoundly the buildings on this campus and give them that special treatment I could only dream of giving as a youth.