Gospel Story Finder

When I was 13, after eight years of living in a farmhouse with acres of land, my family moved into a suburban neighborhood. Our beautiful golden retriever, Tissue, didn’t exactly like these new conditions. She barked the entire first night we were there. And our neighbors decided to pay us a visit.
Our parents weren’t home at the time, so it was my sister who had the bad luck to answer the door. The neighbors blasted into us with their angry words. They said we’d better get our dog quiet if we knew what was good for us!
I didn’t know what else to do, so I climbed into the doghouse with Tissue. I stayed there for hours with her head on my lap until she finally fell asleep.
When my parents came home, they were upset at what the neighbors had done. But after that night I never heard Mom and Dad complain about it again. So I figured they’d forgotten the whole thing. But I was wrong. A month later my dad asked me if I wanted to help him get even with the neighbors.
I nodded quickly in agreement. Payback! Dad sent me to the garage to grab two shovels. I had no idea what kind of payback he had in mind, but I walked next door with him willingly.
I should’ve known something was fishy right away. I saw our neighbor in his front yard struggling with a wheelbarrow and shovel. All by himself, he was trying to haul a huge pile of dirt to his backyard. With how big that pile was and how slow he was going, it would take him forever to finish.
Without saying a word, Dad walked up to the mound, dug in his shovel, and started filling the wheelbarrow. Our neighbor stared at him in silent confusion. Following Dad’s example, I pitched in and we quickly filled the wheelbarrow. We kept at it until the entire mound was gone.
I’m not sure exactly what the man thought about us helping. For me, though, I felt a healing in my soul as we served our neighbor.
That day my dad taught me a lesson he’s taught me many times since: being kind is much better than getting even.

Years before serving as a counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, Brother Bradley R. Wilcox and his wife, Debi, sent their reluctant 14-year-old son to Especially for Youth (EFY) at Brigham Young University.
They worried that he “didn’t have a spiritual bone in his body.” The teen came home different—more focused and sensitive to spiritual things. Now, years later, he is serving in a bishopric and mentoring the youth in his own ward.

“I was twenty-eight years old when I joined the Church, and I wanted to have my father’s permission. I went to him and asked for his blessing, and he said, ‘Let me think about it.’ The next morning, he said, ‘I have two questions for you. Number one: Have you really investigated this church?’

“‘Yes sir.’ I answered.

“‘Question number two: Are you really convinced that it’s true?’

“I said, ‘Yes.’

“‘Then you have to be baptized,’ he replied. ‘If you are convinced that something is right, you must do it.’

“His integrity was a strong influence in my life. I personally believe that everything has its roots in honesty.

Representative of the members who struggled through this difficult time is Poland’s Marianna Glownia. During World War II, she and her husband became involved in the underground fight against the Nazi occupation and were captured. Both her husband and child were killed. She lived, but the rigors of interrogation left her with broken wrists and ankles. Given no medical attention, the joints healed in that condition, leaving her crippled. She walked with difficulty and depended on neighbors for assistance.
After she joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1958, representatives of another church told her they would care for her the rest of her life if she renounced her membership. When I visited her in 1981, she looked at me and my traveling companion, Matthew Cziembronowicz, and said, “Brethren, I want you to know I have never renounced my faith.” Because of the difficult circumstances she faced, she had lost contact with the Church but not with the Lord.
And neither the Lord nor his Church had forgotten her and the others like her. Quietly, patiently, both were at work preparing the way for the time when the full resources of the Church could be brought back into Eastern Europe.

Let me share with you a modern-day miracle which occurred a year or so ago at Murray High School near Salt Lake City, where every person was a winner, and not a loser was to be found.
A newspaper article highlighted the event. It was entitled “Homecoming Shows True Spirit: Students Elect 2 Disabled Girls to Murray Royalty.” The article began, “Ted and Ruth Eyre did what any parents would do. When their daughter, Shellie, became a finalist for Murray High School homecoming queen, they counseled her to be a good sport in case she didn’t win. They explained only one girl among the 10 would be selected queen. … As student body officers crowned the school’s homecoming [royalty] in the school gym Thursday night, Shellie Eyre experienced, instead, inclusion. The 17-year-old senior, born with Down syndrome, was selected by fellow students as homecoming queen. … As Ted Eyre escorted his daughter onto the gym floor as the candidates were introduced, the gym erupted into deafening cheers and applause. They were greeted with a standing ovation.”
Similar standing ovations were extended to Shellie’s attendants, one of whom, April Pershon, has physical and mental disabilities resulting from a brain hemorrhage suffered when she was just 10 years old.
When the ovations had ceased, the school vice principal, Glo Merrill, said, “‘Tonight … the students voted on inner beauty.’ … Obviously moved, parents, school administrators and students wept openly.” Said one student, “‘I’m so happy, I cried when they came out. I think Murray High is so awesome to do this.’”

Time moved forward, and I remained on the island of Viti Levu, the main island of Fiji. I went to stay with my older sister, who had moved away from home years before. In the chaos of the tragedy, President Davis lost track of me, and I lost track of the Church. Learning that I had survived, however, he instructed the missionaries to search for me. They looked for months but to no avail. President Davis’s time as mission president came to a close, and he passed the search on to his successor.
The years passed, but because of poor communication systems, I could not be found. The family I was staying with was not interested in the gospel, so I had little hope of finding the Church during my teenage years. I struggled with the loss of my family and wondered why I had been left alone. But I carried in my heart the truths my parents had taught me. Although at times I gave in to weakness and temptation, I always remembered my father’s testimony concerning Jesus Christ and His true Church. Eventually I got married and settled on Vanua Levu, the northern island of Fiji.
In March 1985 I was at work cutting coconut copra not far from the main road when an elderly couple in a small car stopped and called out to me. They asked me if I knew a man named Joeli Kalougata. But before I told them they had indeed found him, I asked what they wanted. They introduced themselves as Elder and Sister Kimber and explained that they were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Finally they had found me! It was a glorious moment. Following six missionary discussions in two days, I was baptized on 18 March 1985, along with my wife, Elenoa. Our lives have never been the same since.

I flipped through the pages of the Young Women lesson I was going to give the following Sunday. The General Authority quotes it included were important and applicable, but they were old.
For example, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was President of the Church when I was baptized. I valued his words, which filled the manual, but I worried that the young women wouldn’t connect to the words of leaders they didn’t know.
I prayed for guidance and felt prompted to try something new. I updated some of the stories and included quotes from the most recent general conference, quoting President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018). The results were overwhelming. We had a special lesson with a lot of participation. From then on, I used the lesson manual as a guide to prepare my lessons.
Such preparation took extra work. I had to study more, I had to get to know the young women better, and I had to think about the experiences they were having. Then I would look for examples and words from living Church leaders I could use to relate to their lives. I was happy to go the extra mile for the young women because of my love for them.
My leaders eventually noticed what I was doing. I feared they might reprimand me for being rebellious, but they encouraged me to continue.

Lorenzo Snow was still at work in his office in the Salt Lake Temple. It was dark outside, and the stars had come out. He was the fifth President of the Church, but he was also serving as the first president of the Salt Lake Temple at the time. He often stayed late into the evening to finish his work.
President Snow’s granddaughter Allie Young loved to visit him at his office. In those days, family members of the temple president were allowed to visit him there. They were not allowed to go through the entire temple, however, until they were old enough and had been found worthy and ready to make the sacred temple covenants.
This special evening Allie was with her grandfather in his office. The doorkeepers had gone home and the night watchmen had not yet come in, so they were alone. When Allie was ready to leave, President Snow went to a dresser and took a large bunch of keys from the drawer so that he could let her out the main entrance. Together they walked down a large corridor near the celestial room.
President Snow suddenly stopped and said, “Wait a moment, Allie. I want to tell you something.” Allie listened intently as her grandfather told her of an unforgettable experience he had once had at that place in the temple: “It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. He instructed me to go right ahead and reorganize the First Presidency of the Church at once and not wait as had been done after the death of the previous presidents, and that I was to succeed President Woodruff [as President of the Church].”
President Snow held out his left hand and said, “He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as though he stood on a plate of solid gold.”
Still speaking in hushed, reverent tones, President Snow told Allie that the Savior’s appearance was so glorious and bright that he could hardly look at Him.
President Snow put his right hand on Allie’s head and said, “Now granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with him face to face.”
Allie listened to every word of this sacred experience and never forgot that precious moment but shared it many times later in her life with her family and friends.

Gil Ja had learned service by example. Her mother always lived by that principle, serving Church members even before she became one herself.
Her mother had come to love the members of the Church and the sister missionaries who wanted to teach her. But it was difficult to give up her traditional religion. In her closet she had a small statue of Buddha to which she prayed each day. The turning point in her conversion came after she dreamed that she was praying to her Buddha when it began to cry tears from its painted eyes and slowly turned its back on her. She understood that the dream meant it was time for her to follow a new religious path.
Three years after her baptism and confirmation, her husband—by then the lone member of the family who was still outside the Church—finally consented to listen to the gospel and was converted. After he joined the Church, he became a changed man, his children say—sweeter, kinder, more tolerant.
Some 26 years after Cho Joong Hyun’s baptism, all of his family were at last members of the Church. It was a high point for the family when their mother and father were sealed in the Seoul Korea Temple. A touching moment for the entire family came at a later gathering when the Cho children sang to their father the lullaby he had sung to them when they were small.
Their mother served faithfully in the Church until the end of her life. Even in the hospital, suffering from stomach cancer, she was a missionary to the young woman in the next bed, introducing her to the gospel.
Her sons and daughters carry on the tradition of service. There are two President Chos in the family. Yong Hyun, the CES coordinator, has served in a variety of priesthood leadership callings through the years and is currently president of the stake in Gwangju. Cho Joong Hyun, who led the way into the Church for his family, has also served in a variety of leadership roles in Suncheon, including district president. He is currently president of the Suncheon Branch. Cho Gil Ja has served for more than 16 years as president of the Relief Society in the ward and stake. Other brothers and sisters in the family are active in their own areas as well, and all are married to active members.
Seven of the Cho children and grandchildren have served as missionaries so far, and still others are preparing to serve. Several of the children and grandchildren have married returned missionaries. Now the fourth generation of Chos is beginning to be reared in the Church. Their days have not been free of life’s difficulties, but blessings have come through their obedience.
The missionary who handed that pamphlet to a young postal worker nearly four decades ago could not have known what would grow from the small seed he planted. But the harvest has been plentiful—and it may be only beginning.

A beauty contest for guys? Well sure, why not? It’s the custom at Springfield High School in Oregon, and last year the only three LDS contestants won first, second, and third places.
Eric Markworth of the Springfield Second Ward was crowned Mr. SHS. First runner-up was Kevin Jones, also of the Springfield Second Ward. Second runner-up was Johnny Gambee of Springfield First Ward. His sister Beth was the emcee for the event. The contestants were judged in formal wear, sportswear, and talent.
All four of the LDS students involved were early-morning seminary students, and all but Johnny, who is a junior, graduated from four years of seminary. That means the winner might have to crown himself next year. The previous winner and first runner-up will be on missions.

My family was very poor while I was growing up, and we moved so often that I never felt like I belonged anywhere. Even though we faced a lot of hard times, we were rarely sad, but we were often hungry. I remember one day that was particularly rough at home. There was no food and my parents were arguing, so I left the house.
I went downtown to the local mall to try to entertain myself. I immediately went to one of my favorite stores, a candy shop with barrels of taffy and other goodies. My eyes caught on a tree made from breadsticks which were twisted, braided, glazed, and cooked to that perfectly baked, tan color.
My stomach growled as I realized that even though I was hungry and the delicious bread was right in front of me, I would never have it. I wanted to steal the bread; hunger and desperation were the obvious reasons, but I also felt fed up with not having a fair chance in life. I felt like no one cared about me, so I wanted to steal from society to let it know that it had failed me.
I tried to decide how I could steal the bread. I was 20 steps away … 15 steps away … 5 steps away. The decision was coming up. I was either going to take it or not.
But then I had a sudden, fleeting thought to ask God for help with my problems. I was frustrated, because I knew that God had seen me hungry, lonely, and tired before. Why was this situation any different?
“Things won’t change,” I thought. “God won’t answer me. Why would He help me now when He never has before?”
All I wanted was to satisfy my hunger with that bread. After all, it was only bread; what would it really cost the store? Why is it a big deal?
Then it hit me. I would be the one paying the cost of my anger and regret. As I passed the bread, I brushed it with my shoulder. I decided I would try one last time to do things God’s way.
I walked over to the warm food court, one of my favorite areas of the mall, and sat down at a long table. I had done the right thing, but I was still hungry. And I was in the same spot as before. I sat alone at the table and felt the heavy silence for at least an hour.
As I was sitting, lost in thought, I heard footsteps coming from behind me. Someone came up behind me and put a big plate with a double burger and fries in front of me. He patted me on the shoulder and walked away without saying a word.
I turned around and realized that it had been one of the restaurant workers. He silently returned to his job and never looked back at me. He didn’t want to be acknowledged, but I recognized him as a boy named Tim from school.
I was stunned as I looked down at my double burger. This was not just bread. It was a full meal.
Earlier, it seemed so much easier to just believe that there is no God and to take the bread. But now there was no denying that God knew me and my trials. Before I ate, I made sure to spend time thanking God for the food and for Tim.
I learned a lot about brotherly love that day, and I wanted to help others in the same way Tim helped me. I know that God was aware of me. He inspired Tim to share food with me to fill my physical hunger. And He answered my prayers and helped me feel His love so I could be spiritually filled as well.

Brothers and sisters, when we met in general conference six months ago, none of us anticipated the coming changes that would tug at the heartstrings of the entire Church. Elder L. Tom Perry delivered a powerful message about the irreplaceable role that marriage and family occupy in the Lord’s plan. We were stunned when just a few days later, we learned of the cancer that would soon take him from us.

Though President Boyd K. Packer’s health had been declining, he continued to “soldier on” in the work of the Lord. He was frail last April, yet he was determined to declare his witness as long as he had breath. Then, just 34 days after Elder Perry’s passing, President Packer also stepped across the veil.

We missed Elder Richard G. Scott at our last general conference, but we’ve reflected upon the powerful witness of the Savior he had borne in many previous conferences. And just 12 days ago, Elder Scott was called home and reunited with his beloved Jeanene.

I had the privilege of being with all of these Brethren during their final days, including joining members of President Packer’s and Elder Scott’s immediate families just before their passing. It has been difficult for me to believe that these three treasured friends, these magnificent servants of the Lord, are gone. I miss them more than I can say.

As I’ve reflected on this unexpected turn of events, one of the impressions that has lingered with me is that which I observed in these surviving wives. Etched in my mind are the serene images of Sister Donna Smith Packer and Sister Barbara Dayton Perry at their husbands’ bedsides, both women filled with love, truth, and pure faith.

As Sister Packer sat next to her husband in his final hours, she radiated that peace that passes all understanding.1 Though she realized that her beloved companion of almost 70 years would soon depart, she showed the tranquility of a faith-filled woman. She seemed angelic, just as she was in this photo of them at the dedication of the Brigham City Utah Temple.

I saw that same kind of love and faith emanating from Sister Perry. Her devotion to both her husband and the Lord was obvious, and it moved me deeply.

Through their husbands’ final hours and continuing to the present day, these stalwart women have shown the strength and courage that covenant-keeping women always demonstrate.2 It would be impossible to measure the influence that such women have, not only on families but also on the Lord’s Church, as wives, mothers, and grandmothers; as sisters and aunts; as teachers and leaders; and especially as exemplars and devout defenders of the faith.3

This has been true in every gospel dispensation since the days of Adam and Eve. Yet the women of this dispensation are distinct from the women of any other because this dispensation is distinct from any other.4 This distinction brings both privileges and responsibilities.

Thirty-six years ago, in 1979, President Spencer W. Kimball made a profound prophecy about the impact that covenant-keeping women would have on the future of the Lord’s Church. He prophesied: “Much of the major growth that is coming to the Church in the last days will come because many of the good women of the world … will be drawn to the Church in large numbers. This will happen to the degree that the women of the Church reflect righteousness and articulateness in their lives and to the degree that the women of the Church are seen as distinct and different—in happy ways—from the women of the world.”5

My dear sisters, you who are our vital associates during this winding-up scene, the day that President Kimball foresaw is today. You are the women he foresaw! Your virtue, light, love, knowledge, courage, character, faith, and righteous lives will draw good women of the world, along with their families, to the Church in unprecedented numbers!6

We, your brethren, need your strength, your conversion, your conviction, your ability to lead, your wisdom, and your voices. The kingdom of God is not and cannot be complete without women who make sacred covenants and then keep them, women who can speak with the power and authority of God!7

President Packer declared:

“We need women who are organized and women who can organize. We need women with executive ability who can plan and direct and administer; women who can teach, women who can speak out. …

“We need women with the gift of discernment who can view the trends in the world and detect those that, however popular, are shallow or dangerous.”8

Today, let me add that we need women who know how to make important things happen by their faith and who are courageous defenders of morality and families in a sin-sick world. We need women who are devoted to shepherding God’s children along the covenant path toward exaltation; women who know how to receive personal revelation, who understand the power and peace of the temple endowment; women who know how to call upon the powers of heaven to protect and strengthen children and families; women who teach fearlessly.

Throughout my life, I have been blessed by such women. My departed wife, Dantzel, was such a woman. I will always be grateful for the life-changing influence she had on me in all aspects of my life, including my pioneering efforts in open-heart surgery.

Fifty-eight years ago I was asked to operate upon a little girl, gravely ill from congenital heart disease. Her older brother had previously died of a similar condition. Her parents pleaded for help. I was not optimistic about the outcome but vowed to do all in my power to save her life. Despite my best efforts, the child died. Later, the same parents brought another daughter to me, then just 16 months old, also born with a malformed heart. Again, at their request, I performed an operation. This child also died. This third heartbreaking loss in one family literally undid me.

I went home grief stricken. I threw myself upon our living room floor and cried all night long. Dantzel stayed by my side, listening as I repeatedly declared that I would never perform another heart operation. Then, around 5:00 in the morning, Dantzel looked at me and lovingly asked, “Are you finished crying? Then get dressed. Go back to the lab. Go to work! You need to learn more. If you quit now, others will have to painfully learn what you already know.”

Oh, how I needed my wife’s vision, grit, and love! I went back to work and learned more. If it weren’t for Dantzel’s inspired prodding, I would not have pursued open-heart surgery and would not have been prepared to do the operation in 1972 that saved the life of President Spencer W. Kimball.9

Sisters, do you realize the breadth and scope of your influence when you speak those things that come to your heart and mind as directed by the Spirit? A superb stake president told me of a stake council meeting in which they were wrestling with a difficult challenge. At one point, he realized that the stake Primary president had not spoken, so he asked if she had any impressions. “Well, actually I have,” she said and then proceeded to share a thought that changed the entire direction of the meeting. The stake president continued, “As she spoke, the Spirit testified to me that she had given voice to the revelation we had been seeking as a council.”

My dear sisters, whatever your calling, whatever your circumstances, we need your impressions, your insights, and your inspiration. We need you to speak up and speak out in ward and stake councils. We need each married sister to speak as “a contributing and full partner”10 as you unite with your husband in governing your family. Married or single, you sisters possess distinctive capabilities and special intuition you have received as gifts from God. We brethren cannot duplicate your unique influence.

We know that the culminating act of all creation was the creation of woman!11 We need your strength!

Attacks against the Church, its doctrine, and our way of life are going to increase. Because of this, we need women who have a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and who will use that understanding to teach and help raise a sin-resistant generation.12 We need women who can detect deception in all of its forms. We need women who know how to access the power that God makes available to covenant keepers and who express their beliefs with confidence and charity. We need women who have the courage and vision of our Mother Eve.

My dear sisters, nothing is more crucial to your eternal life than your own conversion. It is converted, covenant-keeping women—women like my dear wife Wendy—whose righteous lives will increasingly stand out in a deteriorating world and who will thus be seen as different and distinct in the happiest of ways.

So today I plead with my sisters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to step forward! Take your rightful and needful place in your home, in your community, and in the kingdom of God—more than you ever have before. I plead with you to fulfill President Kimball’s prophecy. And I promise you in the name of Jesus Christ that as you do so, the Holy Ghost will magnify your influence in an unprecedented way!

I bear witness of the reality of the Lord Jesus Christ and of His redeeming, atoning, and sanctifying power. And as one of His Apostles, I thank you, my dear sisters, and bless you to rise to your full stature, to fulfill the measure of your creation, as we walk arm in arm in this sacred work. Together we will help prepare the world for the Second Coming of the Lord. Of this I testify, as your brother, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I was baptized in May 2016. My first year of seminary started later that year. I was skeptical at first, and I wasn’t ready to get up early, but I was prompted to go. I was still a little unsure about recognizing the voice of the Spirit, but being in seminary has helped me recognize that voice. Through the Spirit, I’m able to know the scriptures are true. I know that the Spirit prompts me to highlight scriptures with meaning and that there’s always a reason. The scriptures guide me when I’m lost, and they teach me. Whenever I’m having a bad day, I can open them up and make my day better.
Shelby L., 16, Montana, USA

A group of missionaries, also in Jamaica, understood their duties to teach the gospel to everyone who would hear their message. As all missionaries are, they were very dependent on their monthly checks from home, but in Jamaica the banking rules dictated that after the checks were presented at the bank for cash, a two-month waiting period had to elapse before the cash could be provided. This was very inconvenient and frustrating to the missionaries, and they agreed that it would be impossible for them to continue to endure such an arrangement. They would have to do something about it—and do something they did! The bank manager was taught the gospel, was baptized, and as a result the check-cashing problem was magically solved. Those elders knew their duty and accomplished it with faith and diligence.

Blackberries grow like weeds on the western coast of Canada. The plants sprout and grow everywhere and will take over everything they can reach—fields, sidewalks, roads, and beaches are lined with blackberry cane. In the fall neighbors work together to pick berries to use in their homes.
As I joined in picking blackberries one year, I was determined that not only would I pick enough to make jam for myself and my family, but I would also make extra to give to the sisters I visit teach. The best place to pick blackberries in my neighborhood was down by the elementary school, where pathways and fields are lined with brambles reaching eight feet (2.4 m) high. I had already been there picking the week before, and I knew many others had already gone there as well, so it was likely that there wouldn’t be much fruit left.
As I prepared to pick berries again, I thought I would try picking in a different place. Out my kitchen window I could see a vacant lot next to the street. Hardly anyone went by there, and canes were spreading out over an acre of land. Surely there would be lots of fruit where no one had picked. I put my buckets in the back of the car and headed over.
Soon I was hot, scratched, and perplexed as I stood in the middle of the acre of brambles. The canes were barren, full of thorns but without any sign of flowers or fruit. I had found exactly three berries in all that land, and I couldn’t understand why. My jam jars, however, still needed to be filled, so I headed over to the school to see if any fruit was left there.
When I got to the school fields, I found even more berries than I needed and more still ripening, even though many people had already picked there. I suddenly recognized what had happened: blackberry canes produce much more when their fruit is picked. Because our neighborhood had shared this patch for years, the canes responded with crops year after year. Where the canes had not been used, they had remained dry and fruitless. Through sharing that blackberry patch over the years, we had created abundance—there was more fruit than all of us collectively needed.

The first free-lance article I submitted to the New Era was … well … much like wearing a tuxedo to a pool party. Inappropriate.
Without opening the magazine, I had mailed off a six-page essay on what I had learned being a convert to the Church. The rejection letter arrived in my college dorm mailbox a month later. “How dare they?” I demanded, showing the story to a few young people in my Sunday School class.
“Uh, good spelling,” one said, handing it back without turning the page.
“It’s very neat,” said another, not getting past the first paragraph.
It quickly became obvious there wasn’t a 15-year-old in the Church who would read my dry essay. I hadn’t done my homework, and the rejection letter proved it.
I tried again. This time I dug a stack of New Eras out of my drawer and read. It took a few days, but I got a feel for the style of the magazine—the way the anecdotal leads drew you into more serious topics; the up-tempo, spiritual kids featured in the stories; the faith-building experiences people wrote about.
And, as I read, I learned a few important points—that the New Era is particular about what it prints, and how it is presented.
A few days later, I again found myself in front of my typewriter. I stopped trying to summarize all I had learned since becoming a member of the Church. Instead, I focused on one event that happened while I was growing up in Canada and what I learned from it.
It took a lot of writing and rewriting to make the piece fit the style of the magazine. But a few weeks after I sent the article off, the editors mailed me a nice letter saying they’d like to purchase my story. The New Era wasn’t unreachable after all.

Sometimes overcoming fear is a journey, like traveling through a dark valley, as Psalm 23 mentions. Nicolas F., from Brazil, can testify that if you keep moving forward, healing will come. He struggled with feelings of failure and fear for a long time.
“I prayed a lot, asking God to take the bad thoughts out of my mind, asking Him to take away the bad feelings,” he says. He went through times of confusion and dwelt on the mistakes he’d made.
“I tried to find the power of God, but I didn’t yet feel His healing,” says Nicolas. He searched the scriptures for verses about overcoming fear and found strength in those words. He got support from his mother and others.
Eventually, one afternoon, he felt particularly whole and grateful. He realized how far he had come.
“Before I felt like I was in prison,” he says. “But now I feel like I can win the battles. As I seek the Lord’s help, I feel hope.”

For as long as Marie could remember, the big vacant lot next door to her house had been an ugly sight. So she was very surprised when she arrived home from school one day and saw how it had changed: All the tall weeds and broken bottles and torn newspapers were gone. The ground had been plowed too. That’s the cleanest dirt I’ve ever seen, she thought.
A man wearing baggy overalls was putting a sign up in the middle of the lot. In large letters it read:
BIRCH STREET COMMUNITY GARDEN
RESERVE YOUR PLOT NOW!
“Excuse me,” Marie said to the man. “What’s a community garden?”
“Anyone in the community—the neighborhood—may use part of this lot to grow his own garden,” the man replied. “Would you like to sign up for a plot?”
Marie had never seen a garden in her neighborhood before—only buildings and sidewalks and streets.
“A garden would be great,” she said. “I’ll ask my brothers and sisters if they’ll help me. Thanks.”
When the family sat down to supper that evening, Marie told them about the new community garden next door. “We can have fresh vegetables all summer,” she said. “It’ll be a very big garden. I’ll need help taking care of it, but we’ll have lots of fun.”
“Sorry, Sis,” said Joe, the oldest. “I need to find a summer job. I’ll be too busy to help.”
“Me, too,” said Rose. “I have a paper route. Besides, vegetables are all right, but I like flowers better.”
Marie was a little disappointed, but she still had four other children to ask.
But Flo said, “I have to take care of my rabbits. I won’t have time to garden.”
“Count me out,” Peter told her. “I hate vegetables. Yuck!”
The twins were Marie’s last hope, but before she could ask them, Mike said, “We don’t like vegetables, either.”
“We definitely hate vegetables,” Ike agreed.
After supper Marie went outside and stared at the vacant lot. It was all ready for planting, but no one would help her with the work.
A few minutes later Papa came out and stood beside her. “Marie, I’ll help you with the garden after supper every night,” he said.
“No, Papa,” Marie replied. “Thanks, but you work hard all day. I’ll just plant a small garden and take care of it myself.”
“Well, I’ll help when I can,” Papa said. “We’ll go together Saturday to reserve a little garden plot.”
Then Papa took Marie’s hand in his, and they walked back to the apartment.
At supper the next evening Marie turned to Joe. “It’s hard to find a job, isn’t it?”
“It sure is!” he answered. “I’ve been looking for weeks and still haven’t found one.”
“Nearly everyone likes corn on the cob and watermelon,” Marie pointed out. “I’ll bet that you could grow some in the garden and sell them to make money—after all, you’d have the freshest vegetables in town. You could grow enough for the family too.”
Joe’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea, Sis. I’ll give it a try.”
Then Marie looked across the table at Rose. “Your paper route won’t keep you busy all day,” she said. “Since you like flowers, you could grow sunflowers and scarlet runner beans. The beans have beautiful blossoms, and we can eat the beans and the sunflower seeds.”
Rose grinned. “Sure. That way I can grow flowers and food.”
Now Marie turned to Flo. “You could grow carrots and lettuce and radishes, couldn’t you? Then you wouldn’t have to spend your whole allowance on rabbit food, your pet bunnies would be happy, and there would be plenty for us too.”
“The bunnies will love it!” Flo exclaimed. “When do we start?”
Pete had figured out what Marie was up to. “Don’t look at me,” he said stubbornly. “I still hate vegetables, and nothing you say is going to change my mind.”
“You don’t hate all vegetables,” Marie answered. “You like popcorn. That’s a vegetable. And you’re crazy about pickles. They’re made from cucumbers, you know.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Pete laughed. “OK. It looks like I’m in charge of the popcorn and pickle patch.”
“What can we grow?” asked Mike. “We don’t want to be left out.”
“We hate vegetables, but we want to grow something,” said Ike.
Marie smiled. “Well, you boys like chili better than just about anything else, so you can plant a chili patch.”
“A chili patch? How do you grow chili?” asked Mike.
“Just think about what’s in chili,” Marie said. “There are beans and tomatoes and peppers, right?”
“Yes!” cried Ike. “We’ll plant our very own chili patch!”
Then Mama, who had been listening the whole time, spoke up. “Marie, is there enough room for a patch of the other vegetables that we like? I’d like to plant some spinach, broccoli, cauliflower, and peas. We all like these, especially when they’re raw.”
“Of course, Mama! You can plant anything that you want,” Marie answered.
“What am I going to help you grow?” Papa asked Marie.
“We’ll plant an enormous dessert patch!” she said. “It will be full of sweet things like strawberries and cantaloupes to thank everyone for helping with the garden.”

[Taylor] missed his older brother and sister. They were in [school]. “I wish I could go to [school] too,” he said to [Mom]. “Next year,” [Mom] told him, “when you are five years old, you [can] go to [school]. Until then, you get to [be] my helper.” [Taylor] felt better. He liked helping [Mom]. “What are we going to do?” “We are going to [can] [tomatoes],” she said. “First we have to wash our [hands].” [Taylor] stood on a [stool] and washed his [hands] at the [sink]. “Now we wash the [jars].” After [Mom] washed the [jars], [Taylor] dried them. He carefully placed the clean [jars] on the counter. [Mom] placed a big [pot] of water on the [stove] to boil. [Taylor] helped [Mom] take the stems off the [tomatoes]. Then he sat at the [table] and watched [Mom] put the [tomatoes] in the hot water and then dip them in cold water. After she peeled the [tomatoes], she placed them in the [jars]. “Why do you [can] [tomatoes] each year?” he asked. “To put in our [food] storage,” [Mom] said. “Later on we will be doing [green beans], [peaches], and [pears].” [Taylor] remembered last year when his [dad] had not worked. The family ate [food ]from their storage for three months. [Taylor] really liked the canned [peaches]. “I am glad [Dad] has a job now,” [Taylor] said. “I am too, but we still need to keep adding to our [food] storage. The [prophet] has asked every family to have a year’s supply of [food],” [Mom] said. After watching [Mom] for a while, [Taylor] was sleepy. He brought his [quilt] and [pillow] from his bedroom and lay down on the floor. When he woke up, [Mom] was putting the [jars] of [tomatoes] on a shelf. The [tomatoes] sparkled like red [jewels]. That night in family [home] evening, the family sang, “Follow the [Prophet].”* After they sang the song, [Taylor] smiled and winked at [Mom]. He knew they had followed the [prophet] today.

In September 1938 I was 15 years old and lived in the little Swiss village of Gilly, between Geneva and Lausanne, in the Swiss canton of Vaud.
One day I returned home from school and found Mamma (Geneviève Emilie Pauline Gay) visiting with two young gentlemen, one from Canada and one from the United States. They were missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were living in the nearby village of Nyon. My mother was helping them improve their French language skills. She told me that she was very happy to help, and I met them several times. Then one day Mamma told me that the young gentlemen had left Nyon. Over the years, Mamma and I wondered what had become of them.
I grew up, married, and moved to central France with my husband. In 1990 we were living in the small town of Beaumont in Puy de Dôme when by chance I came upon a magazine article in Le Point, a current affairs magazine. The article was called “Recenser l’humanité depuis Adam et Eve” (“To take a census of humanity since Adam and Eve”). It told about the work of genealogical research and baptism for the dead in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I read, I experienced a great shock that took me back more than half a century. For several days after reading the article, I felt unsettled, as if I must do something. I thought of my mother, who had always had much faith and goodwill toward other religions and had passed away in 1978. I also thought of my father, who had died in 1937.
Finally, I wrote a letter to Mr. Patrick Coppin, director of acquisitions for the Genealogical Society of Utah, who had been mentioned in the article. I asked if the names of my mother and father might be included in the genealogy of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and if they could receive the blessings of the Church. I included my parents’ birth, marriage, and death dates.
I also included something else: the names and addresses of Elder Brigham Y. Card of Cardston, Alberta, Canada, and Elder Jay Lees of Salt Lake City. They had written their names and addresses on the back of a photograph they had given my mother 52 years earlier.
Three weeks later, I received a letter from Elder Card telling me it would be his joy to act as proxy in the temple ordinances for my mother and father. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read his letter, but it took me several days to realize what this meant for my parents. On 28 June 1990, my parents were baptized, endowed, and sealed in the Jordan River Temple, with Elder Card and his wife, daughter, and son-in-law acting as proxies. My parents had received the blessings of the temple.