Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago I had been assigned with other General Authorities to attend a series of area conferences in New Zealand and Australia. Initially, the leader of our group was to have been President Spencer W. Kimball. However, because of the need for some emergency surgery, he could not travel with us, so President N. Eldon Tanner led the group in his place.
Each day during the trip President Tanner telephoned President Kimball in his hospital room to get a report on his condition and to give a brief report of the conferences in which we were participating. After the daily call to Salt Lake City, President Tanner would always give us a report on the President’s condition. We were anxious and appreciated these brief messages.
Once, after we had been out for five or six days, President Tanner made his usual call to the hospital in Salt Lake City. However, this day he had no report for us. When we asked if he had talked to the President, he told us he had tried, but President Kimball wasn’t in his room. “Where was he?” we asked. “They weren’t sure; they couldn’t find him,” President Tanner said. “They thought he might have gone down to the next floor of the hospital to visit the sick.”
To paraphrase a statement made by Wendell Phillips, it may be accurately said, “How prudently most men sink into nameless graves, while now and then a few forget themselves into immortality.” (As quoted by William Jennings Bryan, The Prince of Peace, Independence: Zion’s Printing and Publishing Co., 1925.)

In 2017, after returning from my mission, I embarked on an academic journey fueled by faith and determination. I enrolled in a computer school, dedicating a year to acquiring valuable skills. My resolve grew stronger, leading me to take the university entrance exam. To my delight, I was successfully admitted that same year.
Amidst my academic pursuits, I learned about the Benson Agricultural and Food Scholarship. Despite applying twice, I faced disappointment as there were insufficient funds. However, my fortune changed when I met Karen Melby Teerlink, the missionary couple dedicated to welfare. With their support, I was finally awarded the scholarship.
Since receiving the Benson scholarship, my life has transformed remarkably. At Stella Maris Polytechnic University, I consistently achieved honor roll status, a testament to the comprehensive support provided by the scholarship, covering all fees, including books and other expenses.
The scholarship alleviated my financial struggles, allowing me to focus on my studies. This opportunity enabled me to serve as a student leader, a favorite among students, and a trusted communicator within the administration. I had the privilege to conduct surveys for the Center for Agricultural Research Institute (CARI) on integrated rice and fish farming, and for World Fish under CARI, as well as a survey for Solidaridad on cocoa seeding and plantain suckers. These experiences were invaluable and only possible because of the scholarship.
Today, I am proud to be the first in my family to earn a BS degree. This milestone sets a precedent for my siblings, encouraging them to pursue higher education. Inspired by the scholarship’s impact, I initiated an animal husbandry project, starting with pig raising and planning to expand to other animals like goats and cattle. My vision includes establishing an agribusiness that encompasses the entire value chain process, benefiting end consumers.
Currently, I am pursuing agribusiness studies at BYU-Idaho, an opportunity made possible by the scholarship and the support of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am immensely grateful for these blessings and the positive changes in my life. The scholarship has not only advanced my education but also instilled a deep sense of responsibility to give back to society with the knowledge and skills I have gained.
My journey is a testament to the power of faith, perseverance, and the profound impact of the Benson Scholarship. I am committed to making a difference in my community and beyond, forever indebted to those who have supported me along the way.

I read with great interest the article about President Walter Stover in the May 1987 issue. It brought back cherished memories of that beloved man, my conversion to the church in 1947, the Freud-Echo in Berlin in 1948, and, yes, the green Cadillac! I saw the Caddy late one evening in Zwickau, driving up the Bahnhofstrasse. It was quite a sight for us Germans. What a huge car!
At the Freud-Echo, President Stover awarded me a Book of Mormon with his signature for winning in writing a poem. My Book of Mormon is rather old and in bad repair by now. I think I’ll have it restored since it is very special to me.
I hope President Stover is happy and in good health. A lot of German Saints keep him in their hearts and prayers.
God bless President Stover always.

A few months ago, I was browsing through the Church Media Library and saw a link to a collection of short videos called Restoration Conversations with President Russell M. Nelson. The title of one of the short videos in the list caught my attention and made me smile. It is called “Scriptures Are God’s Recipes for Happy Living.” I immediately clicked on that two-minute video and watched President Nelson teach a group of Primary kids a simple and powerful message about how to be happy. He taught: “If you’re making a cake, you follow the directions, don’t you? And you’ll get a good result every time, won’t you?”
He continued, speaking about turning 95 years old soon: “People say, ‘What do you eat? What’s your secret?’” He replied, “The secret’s called the scriptures. You might read them and try them.”
Well, there we have it. The simple secret for happy living is to just follow God’s recipe as detailed in the scriptures. I call it the “Good News Recipe.”
What do you do if something goes wrong when following the recipe? Well, embedded in the Good News Recipe is the “secret ingredient” to ensure you always get it right in the end. The answer is always Jesus Christ.
I think we all have moments when we feel our ingredients are not good enough, or we struggle to follow the directions, or perhaps we do something out of order, or something happens that is out of our control, and so on.
What’s the remedy? It’s simply to add more of what invites Jesus Christ into your life.
So, what might it look like to add more Jesus Christ into your life?
While serving as mission president, I had the pleasure of meeting personally with each of our young missionaries every six weeks. During the one-on-one meeting, it was common for missionaries to seek guidance on how to improve the effectiveness of their companionships.
On one occasion, a missionary came into his personal interview and sat down. I could tell from his body language that something was weighing heavily on his mind. I asked, “Elder, what would you like to discuss today?” He went on to describe some of the challenges he was having with his companion and how it was affecting their ability to do missionary work. With tears in his eyes, he looked at me and asked, “President, what should I do?”
In that instance, I honestly didn’t know how to respond. After a brief moment, I asked him if it was OK for us to kneel together in prayer for guidance from the Spirit. He agreed, and we knelt together and prayed for inspiration.
After the prayer, we continued kneeling for a short time and then sat in our chairs facing each other. I asked if we could read a scripture together. As we opened our scriptures, I paused and told him, “Elder, as we read this scripture, please ask yourself the following question: If I live these attributes, will it improve my companionship and our missionary work?”
Then we opened Moroni 7:45 and read out loud: “And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”
The elder then looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Yes, President, but that is hard to do.” I agreed and reminded him that he is a son of God with divine potential to do it together with the Lord.
Then we briefly discussed the parable of the slope taught by Elder Clark G. Gilbert of the Seventy, which reminded us that we need to start where we are and, together with the Lord, move forward and upward in a positive direction. I could tell that he was still feeling a bit overwhelmed with the next steps, so I asked him to describe his understanding of the scripture “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.” He went on to describe the concept that by doing small and simple things, great things can happen. I asked him to take a minute and identify two small and simple things he could do to be kind to his companion.
After a few moments, he shared his thoughts. Then I asked him to take a minute and identify two small and simple things he could do to be patient with his companion. He almost immediately shared his two thoughts. It was clear that he had already been pondering this before our meeting. I invited him to take those few items to God in prayer and to ask for confirmation, direction, and inspiration on how to execute his plan with real intent. He agreed. As we concluded, I asked him to provide a brief update in his weekly letter.
As the next few weeks went by, I could see in his weekly letters that things were improving. Not only could I see that improvement in his weekly letters, but I could also see it in the weekly letters of his companion. During our next in-person interview, I saw a night-and-day difference in his countenance and spirit. I asked him, “So, Elder, is it true that ‘charity never faileth?’” He responded with a big smile, “Yes, and by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.”
As you follow the Good News Recipe for happy living, remember President Nelson’s teaching: “Whatever questions or problems you have, the answer is always found in the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. Learn more about His Atonement, His love, His mercy, His doctrine, and His restored gospel of healing and progression. Turn to Him! Follow Him!”
When you need to “hear Him” and know how to invite Jesus Christ into your life, consider following the steps President Nelson taught us about personal revelation:
“Find a quiet place where you can regularly go. Humble yourself before God. Pour out your heart to your Heavenly Father. Turn to Him for answers and for comfort.
“Pray in the name of Jesus Christ about your concerns, your fears, your weaknesses—yes, the very longings of your heart. And then listen! Write the thoughts that come to your mind. Record your feelings and follow through with actions that you are prompted to take. As you repeat this process day after day, month after month, year after year, you will ‘grow into the principle of revelation.’”
I testify that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer. He has “accomplished everything we need to be able to return to [our] Heavenly Father.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When families join the Church, they receive great blessings. But when the Ning family was converted, the Church gained two future full-time native missionaries. Said Elder Ning Kong-lung, “If people first come to a knowledge of God, seek after his kingdom, develop faith in him, and obey his commandments, their lives will change. The Church gives us a method to obtain eternal life. When our family first joined the Church, it was tough. My brother and I were small. My mother had heart disease. I believe it was the most troubled period in my life. I know our family situation changed because my dad led us in obedience to the commandments.”
His mother has since passed away, and his father, who owns and manages a small noodle factory, is now a counselor in the district presidency.
“A change is taking place,” says Elder Ning. “Many of the young members have great enthusiasm to do missionary work. Before now most of the youth didn’t think about serving as missionaries—they thought it wasn’t their concern. As each branch has more missionaries called, the members within the branch are influenced.”

María Coj was a 17-year-old member of the Church in Guatemala, the oldest of eight children. She was sick with cysticercosis, a parasitic infection that comes from eating contaminated food, that with time spread to her brain, causing terrible headaches and then blindness. To give her relief from the pain, it was necessary to move her from her home in Sololá to Guatemala City. Because of convulsions caused by the advances of the illness, her condition worsened, and it was only with life-support systems that she was kept alive. It was evident that she could not live long under those conditions.
At this same time, Erika Alonzo, 12, a partially blind member of the Church, traveled 22 hours by bus from Honduras to Guatemala City to receive an eye operation. For two weeks she waited for a cornea from the United States to be transplanted to her eye, but none was available.
At this same time María died. Because her blindness was caused by pressure on her brain, her corneas were healthy. María’s father and mother authorized the cornea donation. The operation was a success.
On the 12th of July 1993, Erika traveled to Sololá to meet the Coj family for the first time. The surprised family asked her, “Can you see?” She answered, “I see everything clearly.” It was a spiritual meeting. Sister Coj, who did not understand much Spanish, because her native language is Cakchiqúel, felt the love and the spirit of the conversation. Because of the donation of María’s eyes, Erika can now see and enjoy everything around her. The death of one person and the love of her parents blessed the life of another. The medical miracle of one person being able to look through eyes of another is a surprising reality.

Joseph Smith continued to visit the Knights in Colesville, to preach in their homes, and to share the Book of Mormon with them as it was translated. One day after a gospel discussion in Colesville with Joseph Smith, Newel Knight retired to the woods to pray. Newel found himself overtaken by an evil spirit that seemed to almost take control of his body. Distorted and distraught, Newel returned to his home and sent for Joseph. The Prophet came immediately and cast out the evil spirit, using the power of the priesthood. As a holy spirit filled Newel, he was literally lifted from the floor in a great spiritual experience. Many family members and neighbors witnessed this event that Joseph Smith referred to as the first miracle in the Church.

Ever since Carlos could remember, he had wished that he could fly in an airplane. And ever since he could remember, everyone had laughed that he, a barefoot boy of the Colombian campo (countryside), would even have such a wish.
He knew it was impossible. His family didn’t have money for shoes, let alone airplane rides. But he still liked to dream. And every day he ran home from the little schoolhouse, hurried through his chores, then ran to the sugarcane mill to watch the afternoon plane fly overhead.
Carlos’s brothers always teased him:
“Mira (look)! Carlitos (little Carlos) is flying again.”
“Look at him zoom to the woodpile. Careful you don’t crash, Alitas (Little Wings). Now swoop down to the stream for a pail of water.”
Mother seemed to understand, though. She just smiled at her young son as she shaped the arepas (round white corn cakes) for their supper. “You can go now, Carlitos, as long as you feed the cow and the mule when you get back.” She swung her long black braid over her shoulder and went on shaping the arepas.
Carlos scampered up the hill. The well-worn path felt smooth under his bare feet, and a warm, moist breeze ruffled his hair. Soon he came to the sugarcane mill. During the harvest season he and his brothers and father ground up the cane there to make hard brown sugar cakes called panelas. Now, though, the old round millstones looked lonely nestled among the cane.
Carlos sat down on the hilltop and listened for the sound of the plane. He felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. Looking below him, he saw the rows of sugarcane, the banana plants waving gently beside his little house, the stretch of thick jungle underbrush, and the meandering river far below. I am truly lucky to live in such a beautiful place, he thought. But it would be wonderful to see it from the sky!
Carlos’s teacher, Señor Vargas, had explained that the small airplane came from the seacoast town of Turbo. It delivered mail to the small towns and plantations along the flat, hot coast before flying over the mountains to Medellín. There it refueled, picked up mail, and flew back.
“But, Carlos,” his teacher had tried to point out kindly, “in this village we are all poor, and poor people don’t ride in planes.”
Carlos had nodded solemnly, but he never stopped wishing that he would someday fly in a plane.
Now, as he sat on the hilltop near the mill, he heard the familiar thrumming of the mail plane, and soon it appeared overhead. Sometimes when it flew close enough to the ground, Carlos waved and the pilot waved back.
Suddenly Carlos realized that the familiar sound of the airplane engine had been replaced by a putt-putt-putt sound. Something was wrong! He watched with horror as the plane plummeted toward the ground and disappeared behind the hill.
Carlos scrambled toward the stricken airplane. It was rough going through the cane, but the soles of his feet were as tough as leather. When at last he saw the plane on the ground, one wheel strut was crumpled and the left wing looked like an accordion. He could see the pilot’s helmeted head resting against the side window. Is he alive? Carlos wondered. Carlos was scared and curious and anxious to help, all at the same time.
He called out to the pilot. His voice sounded lonely in the stillness. No answer. The helmet didn’t move. Then he saw that the engine had caught fire!
Carlos sprinted to the airplane, grasped the door handle with both hands, and pulled as hard as he could. Nothing happened.
Glancing at the underside of the plane, Carlos saw that the flames were licking toward the cockpit. Desperate, he pounded on the door. Suddenly the door opened, and the pilot toppled out—right on top of Carlos!
The boy staggered to his feet and tried to drag the man away from the plane. Although he was small, Carlos’s fear gave him enough strength to drag the man some distance from the plane. When the boy stopped at last to catch his breath, the pilot groaned, and Carlos noticed a nasty cut on the man’s head. Also, his leg appeared to be broken. The man opened his eyes just as flames completely engulfed the plane.
“Oh!” they both gasped. Carlos felt sick. The beautiful plane that he loved so much was burning up right in front of him. Tears filled his eyes.
The man gripped Carlos’s hand. “Don’t cry, boy. You saved my life!”
But Carlos saw that tears were streaming down the pilot’s face too. They hugged each other and tried to smile to cheer each other up. Soon Carlos was scrambling down the mountain again to bring help to his new friend, José.
Carlos’s father brought a neighbor who had had some medical training to set José’s broken leg and bandage his head. Since their valley could only be reached by horseback, José could not leave until his leg was healed.
Carlos was a hero! No one remembered that they had teased him about always running up to the mill to see the airplane. “How lucky that Carlos was in the cane field!” they said, and “How good that Carlos loves airplanes.”
Carlos just smiled.
José shook his head. “It was God’s will, Carlos. He knew I would need you to be there. You were there, and you saved my life. When I get better, I am going to take you for an airplane ride, if your father says it’s all right.”
Carlos couldn’t believe his ears! He turned to his father, who smiled and said, “OK, Alitas.”
Some weeks later José and Carlos set off for MedellÍn. And the next day Carlos was in the cockpit of a small mail plane, flying over his beautiful valley!
As José dipped the airplane’s wings, Carlos’s family and friends and Señor Vargas were all waving from the hilltop. And as Carlos waved, he was sure he was the happiest boy in the world.

June 30, 1853 At the Brothers Bagnal’s they were starting out to fish. I said, “Success to you; you must catch a whale,” just in a foolish, joking way, and thought no more about it until I went down to Brother John McGilvery’s. (8) After a while one of the girls came down and said that Brother Millett had promised that Uncle Joseph’s folkswould get a whale and the Gentiles said that now you see he is a false prophet, for any fool would know that they can’t get a whale. I overheard the girls talking about the whale. It then came to my mind what I had said. I then ran to the woods and thought how foolish I was to say such a thing. I prayed the Lord to forgive, that I desired to do right. I felt the position we were in. I couldn’t keep back the tears. I called on the Lord to help me in his cause.

About one o’clock P.M. the people noticed six boats coming in the Bay towing something. Some said it was the hull of a schooner; others said no, that it was the whale that the Mormon promised about.

The brothers Bagnal’s was the first boat going out of the Bay. They heard the report of a cannon and saw the flag and topmast of the packet steamer circling around, [which] fired their third gun as soon as they saw that the fishermen were coming; the steamer went on and Brother Bagnal was the first to the prize.

And it was a lucky day for all of them that assisted in getting the prize in. The whale I believe was above 70 feet long, the biggest fish I ever saw. … I never have ceased to thank the Lord for his goodness.

Many years ago, one of my best friends was in his very first class in law school. The teacher was a renowned intellectual to whom the students were paying close attention. During that lecture, she started to expose her views on religion—portraying it negatively. At a certain point, she even inferred that those “Mormon missionaries” you see in the streets were actually agents of a foreign government disguised as religious representatives. At that moment, my friend interrupted the lecture by raising his hand and saying, “Professor, I was one of those ‘agents’ in Portugal for two years.” He noticed that she was puzzled and confused. So he asked permission to explain, went to the blackboard, and started “sharing the gospel” with all present in that classroom.
He explained about the evidence of the existence of Heavenly Father, the creation of our spirits, the plans presented for us to come to this earth, the dispensations starting from Adam until Jesus Christ, and how His Church ended in apostasy. My friend taught about the Restoration through the Prophet Joseph Smith and bore his testimony—and then the class time ended. As a result of his approach, he received an apology from the teacher and he earned the respect of all his classmates that day. In fact, he was chosen to act as the class representative in the student body government and was later named to be the keynote speaker at their graduation a few years later.

Two weeks later the stake missionaries, Sister Hoer and Sister Gibson, came to our home. They taught us about the plan of salvation and the First Vision. They came four times, and after the fourth discussion offered us the challenge of baptism. We told them that we would pray about it and call them with an answer.
That night I prayed my first real prayer. Upon my knees, I pleaded with Heavenly Father to help me know if the Church was really true. The missionaries had explained to us how Heavenly Father answers prayers, so when the answer came I recognized it. Heavenly Father wanted me to be baptized.
My mother and sisters had similar experiences. My father, however, needed an extra boost, and that boost came, but not for several weeks.
Following a tradition at his school, my father took his students on a trip that year. Funds were low so my father drew a circle around the state of Colorado. He asked his students where they wanted to go within that circle. Salt Lake City was selected.
While on that trip, my father and a few of his students toured Temple Square. It was in the north visitors’ center that the much needed answer came.
The tour group had come through the visitors’ center to the last area, a film depicting Joseph Smith and the First Vision. The guide, an elderly man, turned off the lights and pushed the button. The curtains opened but nothing happened. He tried again and achieved the same results. Discouraged he turned the lights back on and said, “If you don’t mind, I would like to bear my testimony.” He did, and it was just what my father needed to make up his mind. My father asked if anything technical had ever gone wrong before. Nothing had, and it continued to run flawlessly after. I believe it was a miracle.
From his hotel room, my father called to tell us of his decision. We immediately called the missionaries and set the date for our baptism.
We gathered in the chapel, all clothed in white. One by one we went into the font and were baptized by Brother Petersen. I remember coming out of the water feeling pure, clean, renewed.
We gathered again in the chapel and our family sang “The Love of God,” and Sister Runnels sang “Where Love Is.” Never before has music so touched my heart.
We were confirmed by Brother Brown, and this began our life in the Church.
Now, five years later, I look back upon that special time in our lives. I can’t help but wonder what life would be like without the Church. I am sure it couldn’t compare to the joy we’ve found.

One night, I was at the grocery store with my mom. We saw a man in a wheelchair. He was shopping alone and had a full cart. My mom asked me if I wanted to help him unload his groceries. I said yes and went over and put all of his groceries on the checkout stand. After I finished, he offered to buy me a pack of gum. I said, “No thank you.” I felt very good inside. That was one of my best experiences ever.

My bishop and I sat in his small, organized office. He peered at me through his clear glasses. “A patriarchal blessing is like a blessing from Heavenly Father. And as you go through life, little by little, more of your blessing will make sense.”
I got up from the small wooden chair and shook the bishop’s hand. He then gave me a patriarchal blessing recommend. I thanked him and left the office.
Lately I had been pondering some questions. Does Heavenly Father really love me? Does he really know who I am? Does he know me individually and love me for who I am, not just because I’m one of his daughters?
I would try to come up with as many answers as I possibly could. “God loves you because you’re his daughter,” my teachers would tell our class during Young Women lessons.
“You should feel special because you’re a child of God,” my Primary teachers had told me.
I knew those things were true. I knew he loved me. I knew I was a child of God, but would Heavenly Father be able to point me out among all of his children? Did he love me for my qualities, my personality?
I rode to the church house with my mother and walked briskly to that small office where the patriarch was waiting. He was an elderly man with a smile and soft, kind eyes.
He gave us a quick review of what a patriarchal blessing was and how sacred it was. He then put his hands on my head and began talking for my Heavenly Father.
I listened closely to every word he said. I felt the Spirit so strongly at times I couldn’t help crying. I received the answer my heart had wanted to hear: “I assure you your Heavenly Father knows you well and loves you.” The patriarch also mentioned several things only my Heavenly Father knew. I felt a complete feeling of love and caring.
I know now that my Heavenly Father loves me and knows me, just as he does each of you. He loves you for who you are.

Once there was an ordinary house, with an ordinary fence, an ordinary yard, and an ordinary car parked in the driveway. What went on in this house, though, was anything but ordinary.
Anyone who knew anything about the Pout family who lived in the house would tell you, “Don’t borrow sugar there,” or “Don’t sell cookies there,” or “Don’t throw your ball over that fence.” You see, everyone in this ordinary house was extraordinarily grouchy. Mr. Pout and Mrs. Pout were grouchy. Sue and Lou Pout, their daughters, were grouchy. Even their dog, Boo, was grouchy.
It all started on a very ordinary day. “Why didn’t you mow the lawn?” Mrs. Pout yelled at Mr. Pout. Mr. Pout huffed outside, mumbling something about Mrs. Pout’s dry meat loaf.
Seeing Sue Pout out in the yard, Mr. Pout frowned and angrily asked, “Why didn’t you pick up your toys? I have to mow, and they’re in the way!”
Sue got up with a groan, threw her toys onto the porch, marched into the house, and stomped up to her bedroom. Lou was on the floor, playing with blocks.
“Get out of my room!” Sue demanded sulkily. “And play with your toys in your own room.”
Lou scrambled out of Sue’s room and into her own. Boo was curled up on her bed.
“You’re getting hair all over my bed,” Lou complained loudly.
Boo jumped off the bed and ran out of the room with his tail between his legs. He went outside and lay in Mrs. Pout’s flower bed—on purpose!
Day after day their grouchiness got worse and worse, and everyone in town tried to avoid them.
One bright morning, a stranger with a wide, red hat came to town. She was going to visit an old friend but could not find her house. She walked straight up to the Pout’s front door and knocked. Mrs. Pout answered with a frown.
“Good morning. My name is Eva Smiley, and I am looking for the home of my friend Ava Twinkly. Do you by chance know where she lives?” Eva asked with a smile.
“Next block over, three houses down,” Mrs. Pout grumbled as she started to shut the door.
“Thank you so much,” Eva said. “By the way, you have the most beautiful flower bed I have seen. You must have put your heart and a lot of hard work into such a magnificent display.”
Mrs. Pout was not used to hearing such kind words and could not help but smile at the stranger’s compliment.
“Well, have a good day, and thanks again for the directions,” Eva said as she walked toward the street, her wide, red hat bouncing with each step.
That day, for the first time in a long while, Mrs. Pout hummed as she worked in her flower bed, carefully tending each delicate flower.
Later, she saw Mr. Pout outside and called to him, “Thank you for mowing the lawn yesterday. It looks so nice!”
Well, Mr. Pout could not help but smile at the kind words. All the rest of that day, he whistled as he cleaned out the garage.
That evening Mr. Pout found Sue watching a television show. “Thank you for washing the dinner dishes,” he said warmly. “I appreciate how you help out around the house.”
Sue could not help but smile at the kind words and hugged her father for the first time in a long while.
Before going to bed, she noticed a picture Lou had colored and hung on the refrigerator. She went up to Lou’s room. “The picture you colored of the mountains is great! You made the mountains look big and real!”
Lou could not help but smile at the kind words, and that night she had pleasant dreams.
The next morning, Boo was curled up on Lou’s bed. She petted him and got up to get him a dog bone. “You’re a good dog, Boo, and you keep me warm at night,” she said gently.
Boo had not had a dog bone in a long while. It made him very happy, and that day he did not lie in Mrs. Pout’s flower beds.
That morning at breakfast, Mr. Pout grinned and said, “Would anyone like to go to the lake today for a picnic? We could get some ice cream on the way home.”
Bright smiles lit all the faces around the table. Something amazing and almost magical had happened to the Pouts. They were no longer grouchy! And although they would always be the Pout family, their attitudes from then on were most unpoutlike.
And somewhere a smiling stranger walked away from another house, her wide, red hat bouncing from side to side.

Lucy prepared herself early in her marriage to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, ed. Preston Nibley [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1958], pp. 34–35).

For the Saints leaving New York, their first place of refuge was Kirtland, Ohio. When they arrived, they found many people ready to receive the restored gospel.

Among those who had been prepared were Newel K. Whitney and his wife, Elizabeth Ann. The two embraced the gospel in 1830 after missionaries brought the Book of Mormon to their home. Over the next two decades, the Whitneys moved with the Saints from Kirtland to Missouri to Illinois, sacrificing time, talents, family relationships, and prosperity to help build up the Church.

Active in Church leadership, Newel was often away from Elizabeth Ann. “During all these absences and separations from my husband,” she wrote, “I never felt to murmur or complain in the least. … I was more than satisfied to have him give all, time, talents and ability into the service of the Kingdom of God; and the change in our circumstances and associations which were consequent upon our embracing the Gospel, never caused me a moment’s sorrow” (“A Leaf from an Autobiography,” Woman’s Exponent, 1 October 1878, 71).

The second experience happened just two months before the end of my mission after I got transferred to a small town in Northern Ontario. This was not the garden spot that missionaries typically wanted to go to because it was so cold in the winter. The average temperature in January was about 10 degrees. But I got lucky and was transferred there in May so it was just starting to get warm.

I was also given a new missionary to train. He was from California and very green. He was missing the warm California sun but soon learned to love Northern Ontario. North Bay was a small city of about 50,000 people and it had been closed to missionaries for several months. This always makes things a little more challenging when missionaries have not been in the area because there really wasn’t a teaching pool. However, there was an area book that showed the names of those who had been taught some discussions many months before we arrived.

One the names on the list was Ruth Cress. After we had settled a bit we gave her a call. It turns out that she had been taught the discussion several times and her brother and sister in law were members of the Church. However, she had smoked for many years and had never been able to give it up.

We set up an appointment to meet with her. She told us that she wanted to be baptized but just could not give up smoking. So we taught her the 6th discussion again which is the discussion on the Commandments and discussed the word of wisdom. We challenged her again like other missionaries had done and her response was the same --- I just can’t give up smoking. We left the discussion quite discouraged because we sensed that she really did know the church was true but she did not have the confidence to quit smoking.

A month went by and we tried to meet with her but she was a busy nurse and worked every other Sunday. We had only seen her at church once. Finally, after 6 weeks we got another appointment with her. My companion and I really did not know what to teach her since she had had all the missionary discussions many times so we decided to show her a short church movie called “the sacrifice”. It is a movie about how a Father who is given two choices, one to save his own son from an oncoming train or save several hundred passengers.

The father had to make a difficult split second decision to save all the passengers and watch his son parish. At the end of the movie it draws a parallel with how our Heavenly Father gave up his only son that all of us could be saved. After the movie she seemed touched but when we brought up baptism she still declined. Well, we left the meeting again depressed and did some tracking for a few hours. Then, we came back to our apartment for a meeting with our ward mission leader.

As we knelt in our small living room to pray the phone range. It was Ruth and she said, Elder Millerberg and Elder Young do you know why you were sent to North Bay? She said the reason you came was to bring me into the church. She said that for the first time she had felt “A MIGHTY CHANGE” that had given her strength and the faith finally give up smoking and join the church. She was baptized two nights before I came home from my mission. That was a great memory in my life. These missionary experiences and many others let me know that my Heavenly really does know me.

My first few months of being a new member of the Church were rough ones—especially for my friends. On one hand, I was excited about what I had found, the feelings of inner peace and the joy I felt in my close relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
On the other hand, in my excitement to share my new understanding of the restored gospel and its teachings, I started to regularly tell my non-LDS friends when they did something I thought was wrong.
Of course, I was about as subtle as a bull elephant on a charge.
One evening in the early summer, I finally realized how judgmental and self-righteous I had become. About five months after my baptism, I went to an outdoor concert with a good friend. As we walked around the grounds trying to find a spot to eat our picnic before the concert began, I noticed many of the people around us had brought wine to share with their dinner. Not one to pass up an opportunity to show how much wisdom I had acquired by being a member of the Church, I hissed to my friend, “Look at all those people drinking wine—that’s disgusting!”
My kind and patient friend turned to me and said, “I’m sure that when Jewish people go into a restaurant, they don’t walk around and criticize everyone with ham on their plates.”
I finally had the good sense to be silent for a little while and ponder what he said. I realized that in all the lessons I had been taught, there had been no mention of members going forth and judging their neighbors. As a matter of fact, the terms “silent example” and “loving nature” had been used a lot.
Embarrassed, I thanked my friend for his wisdom and apologized for my lack of consideration.
I am happy to report that his message came through loud and clear. I stopped demanding changes from my friends and started demanding change from myself. I still stand strong for the things I believe in, but in a polite way—a way that, happily, has made my friends comfortable in talking to me about the Church.

Sometimes that love comes in unexpected ways. Kristen was finishing a graduate degree and had recently given birth to her second child. She felt the other graduates had accomplished so much more and was reluctant to attend the graduation dinner. Her fears were confirmed when, at the dinner, the students were asked to list their professional accomplishments. Kristen recalled: “I suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed. I had nothing to call myself, no lofty position, no impressive job title.” To make matters worse, the professor read the lists as he presented a diploma to each student. The woman ahead of Kristen had many accomplishments: she already had a PhD, was receiving a second master’s degree, and she’d even been a mayor! The woman received grand applause.

Then it was Kristen’s turn. She handed the professor her blank sheet, trying to hold back the tears. The professor had been one of her teachers and had praised her performance. He looked at her blank paper. Without missing a beat he announced, “Kristen holds the most critical role in all of society.” He was quiet for a few seconds, then declared in a powerful voice, “She is the mother of her children.” Instead of a few courteous claps, people rose to their feet. There was just one standing ovation that night; it was for the mother in the room.

It was typical of a national junior college finals wrestling match, especially in the heavyweight division. Both competitors struggled and strained, muscles bulging, feet grasping for a hold on the mat made slippery with sweat. Then the Ricks College wrestler slipped quickly behind his opponent, grabbed his arm, with a shoulder forced him onto his back, and held him helpless until the referee called a pin.

Afterwards, in the dressing room, the rivals smiled and shook hands. “When you go on this ‘mission’ of yours, I hope you get your call in my area,” the loser said. “I really want to hear more about your church.” J. L. Coon, 19, Ricks’s heavyweight, smiled broadly. But he smiled even more broadly a few months later when his mission call arrived: he was called to his opponent’s area, the Washington Seattle Mission! “I’ll have to look him up if I get near his city,” J. L. said.

J. L., whose real name is Joseph, has been winning at wrestling—and football and weightlifting and track—since starting high school. He had 34 straight pins in his senior year, was an all-state football player, took first place in the Utah high school shot-put competition, and won the Utah power-lifting competition by dead lifting 585 pounds. His record at Granger High School earned him scholarships in wrestling and football at Ricks. Recently, as a freshman at Ricks, he took fourth place in the national junior college wrestling championships, and his future as an athlete seems assured.

But J. L., who stands six feet tall and weighs 230 pounds, is giving it all up—for two years—to accept the mission call.

“It was an easy decision,” he said just before entering the Missionary Home in Salt Lake. “I’ve known all my life I would go.” He said living the Word of Wisdom, praying constantly, and reading the scriptures daily have helped him prepare. “Besides,” he adds, “I know this is the true church. I want to share it with others.” He plans to continue his sports career when he returns.