Gospel Story Finder

My first step to finding meaning in my life was to stay connected with the Saints and missionaries in Hungary. For some time, I lived for preparation days when I would receive emails from Sister Nestor and my MTC companions. I have to admit; sometimes it wasn’t easy to read about my companions’ missions or to speak with the Hungarians that I missed so badly. But as I look back now, I realize that it was critical to my healing to hear about the miracles happening there.

My little brother, gently prompted by my intuitive mother, convinced me to start indexing. Initially I did batches of names to appease him, but one day a registry of Hungarian names popped up on my screen. The Spirit swept over me and taught me that I was still able to help bring Hungarian souls to Christ—just on the other side of the veil!

After the mission, all of my pre-mission life goals seemed unattainable with my new health condition. But with time I realized that there were goals I could accomplish while lying down. I called goals such as reading Jesus the Christ “horizontal goals” and worked on them daily.

One of my pre-mission life goals was to graduate from college. While attending classes would have been difficult with my illness and the constant doctor appointments, my dad encouraged me to take online classes from Brigham Young University Independent Study. Not only was this an achievable horizontal goal, but I also realized that maybe I was capable of doing more pre-mission goals than I had previously thought possible.

One day at church, a sister walked up to my mom and said, “Do you know that Destiny can serve an online indexing mission?” This unexpected question was an answer to my prayers. I was able to serve the Lord for nine months as an indexing support Church-service missionary. This was a mission I could do!*

As I became better at managing my health condition, I began studying at a community college while doing my online mission. I was asked to teach mission preparation at the nearby institute. Teaching helped me realize that my enthusiasm for missionary work had not waned and that even my short mission had provided me with many experiences that could be valuable for my students.

After successfully attending a semester of college near my home, I moved to Utah, USA, to attend BYU. At first, I could hardly walk by the Provo MTC without feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. But I started volunteering weekly at the MTC and found that it was healing to meet the wonderful missionaries being sent to my beloved Hungary.

A Hungarian sister, Edit, who has prepared nearly 150,000 names for the temple asked me to take some of her names to the temple. It was a joy to do the saving ordinances for these Hungarians!

Serving a mission was my most important life dream and, understandably, I felt a loss when I came home earlier than anticipated. For a time, I struggled to talk about my mission. I had to work through feelings of failure. I had to learn how to judge the value of my mission by my desire to serve rather than the length. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, each of these steps toward meaning in my life also brought healing.

For years I was nervous that returning to Hungary would be difficult for me emotionally. When I eventually traveled there, it wasn’t until the second day that I realized that not only was I not feeling any pain, I was also feeling overwhelming joy to be back. I knew then that Heavenly Father had given me the opportunity to experience the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement. I now know that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, all things will be made right in the end.

*Many early returned missionaries continue to serve as young Church-service missionaries. Meet with your bishop or branch president for more information.

When I was first called as a bishop, I discovered that our record for subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine in the Sixth-Seventh Ward had been at a low ebb. Prayerfully we analyzed the names of individuals whom we could call to be magazine representative. The inspiration dictated that Elizabeth Keachie should be given the assignment. As her bishop, I approached her with the task. She responded, “Bishop Monson, I’ll do it.”

Elizabeth Keachie was of Scottish descent, and when she replied, “I’ll do it,” one knew she indeed would. She and her sister-in-law, Helen Ivory—neither more than five feet tall—commenced to walk the ward, house by house, street by street, and block by block. The result was phenomenal. We had more subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine than had been recorded by all the other units of the stake combined.

I congratulated Elizabeth Keachie one Sunday evening and said to her, “Your task is done.”

She replied, “Not yet, Bishop. There are two square blocks we have not yet covered.”

When she told me which blocks they were, I said, “Oh, Sister Keachie, no one lives on those blocks. They are totally industrial.”

“Just the same,” she said, “I’ll feel better if Nell and I go and check them ourselves.”

On a rainy day, she and Nell covered those final two blocks. On the first one, she found no home, nor did she on the second. She and Sister Ivory paused, however, at a driveway which was muddy from a recent storm. Sister Keachie gazed about 100 feet (30 m) down the driveway, which was adjacent to a machine shop, and there noticed a garage. This was not a normal garage, however, in that there was a curtain at the window.

She turned to her companion and said, “Nell, shall we go and investigate?”

The two sweet sisters then walked down the muddy driveway 40 feet (12 m) to a point where the entire view of the garage could be seen. Now they noticed a door which had been cut into the side of the garage, which door was unseen from the street. They also noticed that there was a chimney with smoke rising from it.

Elizabeth Keachie knocked at the door. A man 68 years of age, William Ringwood, answered. They then presented their story concerning the need of every home having the Relief Society Magazine. William Ringwood replied, “You’d better ask my father.”

Ninety-four-year-old Charles W. Ringwood then came to the door and also listened to the message. He subscribed.

Elizabeth Keachie reported to me the presence of these two men in our ward. When I requested their membership certificates from Church headquarters, I received a call from the Membership Department at the Presiding Bishopric’s Office. The clerk said, “Are you sure you have living in your ward Charles W. Ringwood?”

I replied that I did, whereupon she reported that the membership certificate for him had remained in the “lost and unknown” file of the Presiding Bishopric’s Office for the previous 16 years.

On Sunday morning Elizabeth Keachie and Nell Ivory brought to our priesthood meeting Charles and William Ringwood. This was the first time they had been inside a chapel for many years. Charles Ringwood was the oldest deacon I had ever met. His son was the oldest male member holding no priesthood I had ever met.

It became my opportunity to ordain Brother Charles Ringwood a teacher and then a priest and finally an elder. I shall never forget his interview with respect to seeking a temple recommend. He handed me a silver dollar, which he took from an old, worn leather coin purse and said, “This is my fast offering.”

I said, “Brother Ringwood, you owe no fast offering. You need it yourself.”

“I want to receive the blessings, not retain the money,” he responded.

It was my opportunity to take Charles Ringwood to the Salt Lake Temple and to attend with him the endowment session.

Within a few months, Charles W. Ringwood passed away. At his funeral service, I noticed his family sitting on the front rows in the mortuary chapel, but I noticed also two sweet women sitting near the rear of the chapel, Elizabeth Keachie and Helen Ivory.

As I gazed upon those two faithful and dedicated women and contemplated their personal influence for good, the promise of the Lord filled my very soul: “I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end. Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.”

Nelson and Dora Coila live on an island—not a typical island made of solid rock jutting up from an ocean or lake—but a tiny island they made themselves of nothing more than floating reeds on Lake Titicaca in Peru.
Building an island and making it your home takes faith. Only about four feet (1.2 m) of layered reeds suspends their family and the dozen or so huts on their island above the 50-degree (10°C) water, and the elements continually threaten to literally disintegrate their island home.
But for Nelson and Dora, their island represents physically what they are trying to build spiritually for their family: an island of faith that will hold together against the world.
What they have learned in the process is that the faith to build must always be followed by the diligence to maintain.
For the Uros people, who have built and lived on these islands for generations, the totora reed is an essential part of daily living. The reed, which grows in the shallows of Lake Titicaca, can be used as fuel for cooking fires. Its root can be eaten. Its husk can be used for medicinal purposes. And, of course, almost everything is made with the reed: their dwellings, their traditional boats, their watchtowers, the islands themselves, even their trash baskets.
The Uros build the islands by laying down layer upon layer of reeds. But as building materials go, totora reeds don’t last long. The sun dries them out during the dry season. Moisture during the rainy season hastens their decay. And the submersed bottom layers gradually decompose. The continual erosion of the Coilas’ island means that Nelson has to put down a new layer of reeds every 10 to 15 days.
“Building the island was just the start,” he says. “If I stop adding reeds, the island will slowly fall apart. But the more layers I put on, the stronger the island gets over time.”
Adding a layer of reeds is not complex or difficult, but it is work. Delaying it would be easy.
Procrastination, however, increases the risk of a family member putting a foot through a weak spot and ending up in cold water. That can be little more than a nuisance for adults, but it’s potentially deadly for little children such as the Coilas’ two-year-old son, Emerson.
So Nelson adds a layer of reeds today, knowing that the safety of each family member depends on it tomorrow.
It’s a lesson about diligence that has made a difference in the Coilas’ lives.
Through the Coilas’ experiences in maintaining their island of faith both literally and figuratively, they have found the rewards of diligence to be real. “Sometimes we get suffocated by the daily routine of working, cooking, and so forth,” says Nelson. “When we forget God, things get complicated. There are more problems, and things begin to fall apart.”
Nelson pauses to gesture toward a new layer of reeds he put down that morning. “If we are constant,” he says, “if we pray, study, fast, and hold family home evening regularly, we are going to become stronger.”

As I was going to the park with my friend Emma and her mom, I saw the temple and started to sing “I Love to See the Temple.” When we got to the park, Emma’s mom told my mom that she wanted to start going to church again. My mom was surprised because Emma’s mom hadn’t been to church for a long time. She told my mom, “Natalie was singing Primary songs, and Emma doesn’t even know any.” Now Emma is a Sunbeam. I’m glad I could be an example.

I love dinosaurs! I have lots of dinosaur books, toys, and pictures. There is a boy in my ward who doesn’t come to church with his family. He loves dinosaurs too, so I decided to share some of my dino books and pictures with him. But then I started feeling sad about giving away some of my things. My mom told me to think about it. When I thought about it, the Holy Ghost told me to share my dinosaur pictures and books. I gave them to my friend, and he felt happy. I felt happy too!

As a young BYU student I learned a little something about staying on course when heading home. One Christmas Eve my brother and I left to drive home to Kansas. But early in our journey we learned that a huge snowstorm was heading our way, so we pulled out a map, identified a detour that would skirt the edge of the storm, and headed into parts unknown. Our creative navigating proved dangerous. Our new route was unfamiliar, and we still ran right into the blizzard. To make matters worse, late that night as we were creeping along in blinding snow on an obscure highway, our old Ford quit. We were stranded. And we had absolutely no idea where we were.

Eventually we caught a ride to the nearest town, where we found that we were still hours from home and marooned in Last Chance, Colorado. At that point there was only one thing to do. We called home for help. In the middle of the night our father left to come and rescue us. By the next afternoon we were all safely home.

I’ll never forget Christmas Eve in Last Chance, where we were immobilized by a problem largely of our own making and one we were unequipped to solve. That day our father did for us what we could not do for ourselves.

My wife, Sister Birita, and I were called to serve as couple missionaries in Nabeina, a small island in the Pacific. The moment we arrived, we felt a profound sense of peace and purpose. After much prayer, we sought permission from our mission president, President Kendall, to spend our year-long mission in Nabeina. Our request was approved, beginning a journey of faith, service, and community building that would forever change our lives and the lives of those we served.
Nabeina has a predominantly Catholic and Protestant population, with very few Latter-day Saints. Sharing the gospel was a challenge, but we felt deeply called to serve the people. We observed their resilience and resourcefulness, particularly the men who were skilled fishermen. However, their ability to provide for their families was hindered by a lack of proper fishing equipment. Witnessing their struggles, we felt a strong desire to help.
One evening, while reflecting on the needs of the community, we felt inspired to seek assistance from the Church Humanitarian Fund. We envisioned a project that would empower the fishermen to provide for their families and support their children’s education. With guidance from Elder and Sister Redmond, we proposed the idea of supplying fishing gear, a wooden boat, and an outboard motor. To our joy, the proposal was approved, and funding was secured. This marked the beginning of a transformative project.
Working with the local branch president, President Mweea Mweea, we established a community-based fishing initiative, officially registered as Nabeina Green Market Incorporated. More than just an economic endeavor, this initiative fostered unity and self-reliance among the people of Nabeina.
The fishing nets arrived first, and the community immediately put them to use. While awaiting the wooden boat, I lent my personal fiberglass boat to the fishermen. On February 9, 2025, the wooden boat and engine finally arrived. A special dedication ceremony brought the community together in gratitude and prayer. The moment was deeply spiritual, reaffirming our testimony of the Lord’s hand in this work.
The success of the Nabeina Green Market Incorporated project relies on teamwork. Each week, fishermen retrieve and repair nets while holding meetings to discuss fishing activities and community well-being. During these gatherings, many expressed how the project had blessed their lives. One fisherman, with tears in his eyes, said, “This boat is not just a boat; it is a gift from God. It has given us hope and a future.”
The people of Nabeina are deeply grateful for the Church Humanitarian Fund’s support. The fishing gear and boat have answered prayers, providing families with the means to sustain themselves. During meetings, many shared testimonies of how the aid had strengthened their faith. One woman said, “We have always prayed for a way to provide for our children. Now, with this boat and these nets, we can see God’s hand in our lives. He has not forgotten us.”
Though most of the community is not of our faith, Sister Birita and I have always believed in serving all of God’s children. Our goal was not to impose our beliefs but to demonstrate Christlike love through action. This project brought people together regardless of religion, and we are grateful to have been instruments in the Lord’s hands.
The Nabeina Green Market Incorporated project is a testament to the power of faith, service, and community. Through the Lord’s guidance, humanitarian aid, and the dedication of the Nabeina people, a sustainable livelihood has been established. The blessings extend beyond economic opportunity, fostering unity and self-reliance.
Sister Birita and I have witnessed the Lord’s hand at every step, from the initial inspiration to the final dedication of the boat. We know this is just the beginning for Nabeina, and we look forward to seeing how the Lord will continue to bless them.
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in” (Matthew 25:35).
The Nabeina Green Market Incorporated project embodies this scripture as the community unites to uplift one another through faith and service.

You know, every member is a missionary. I think President David O. McKay first emphasized that duty. I was up in Montana some time ago visiting a stake conference. After the morning session, I was wandering around outside. I saw this young boy standing there all dressed up in his Sunday clothes. I went over to him and said, “Son, you’re a fine-looking boy. What’s your name?”
He said, “Joseph Smith Curdy.”
I said, “Joseph Smith Curdy! That’s a fine name. You’re going to be a great missionary.”
He said, “I’m already a great missionary. Down the street a couple of blocks from where we live there’s a family with a couple of boys about my age, and over a period of three or four months, I have been bringing them to church with me. A month or so ago, I said to them, ‘How would you like to have the missionaries give you the discussions?’
“They said, ‘Oh, we’d have to talk to our parents.’
“So we talked to the parents, and the parents said, ‘Well, if you will let us listen in, why we’ll be glad to have the missionaries teach them.’”
There wasn’t any problem with that, so the missionaries gave the family the discussions. Joseph Smith Curdy told me, “That whole family is going to be baptized next Saturday. I’m already a great missionary.”
I couldn’t help but agree with him.

You have to understand. Chris and Jason are the kind of guys who, if you ask about diving and you’re close to the community pool, will show you the dives they do. Never mind that they didn’t bring their suits. They’ve been lifeguards here, and the caretaker, who knows them well, gives permission. They look at each other, accept the challenge, and even though they’re in jeans, jump on the board and plunge in the pool. You get the feeling that’s the same way they’ll plunge into missionary work—follow the rules, be dependable, work hard. But get with it—no wimpy excuses.

While my wife served as our ward Young Women president, each summer she invited me to Young Women camp to help with outdoor activities. During a recent camp, I helped with a ropes course the young women walked while blindfolded.
Those walking the course had to hold on to a thin rope that stretched from one tree to another. After they reached each tree, they would feel around the tree’s trunk for the section of rope that led to the next tree. The course featured a few difficult areas, including a dead end. I helped participants if they stumbled or had trouble with one particularly tricky spot halfway through the course.
At that spot, the rope tied into a tree as usual. But the rope leading to the next tree was located a few feet above the rope coming into the tree. By that point in the course, the young women were used to merely reaching around each tree trunk to locate the next rope. When they struggled to find the higher rope, I told them, “Reach higher.”
Like others before her, a young woman named Emily soon became frustrated trying to find the higher rope. After about 20 seconds, I whispered, “Reach higher.” Emily soon found the rope, but then she paused.
Instead of proceeding, Emily turned and reached out for the young woman behind her, Gwen. Then Emily gently lifted Gwen’s hand to the higher rope so she would know where to find it. Emily then went on her way, and Gwen followed.
Emily’s helpful gesture was small, but it reminded me of our weighty responsibility as disciples of Jesus Christ to assist others along the covenant path, help God’s children reach higher, and “lift up the hands which hang down” (Doctrine and Covenants 81:5).

A few days ago, I went to a local supermarket, quite late at night. I had had a long day. Working with clients and then studying, my day didn’t finish until 10 p.m. I decided to just run in and grab a few items.
The night was cold, and I was glad to finish and load my shopping in my car. As I did so, a woman approached me and asked me for some help. I imagined that she wanted a coin for a trolley or something like that. She looked a little dishevelled. She began a long explanation about not having any money, and that she and her partner had hoped to purchase £5 worth of petrol for their car, because this particular petrol station made a charge on cards 24 hours later and they didn’t have any money until the following day, only to find that the petrol station was closed. Now they would have to travel further to buy what they needed, with no funds available.
I explained that unfortunately, I didn’t have any cash or my cards with me. I only had my phone. I was aware that the night was dark and cold, and I knew I wanted to help, but felt I couldn’t. She then asked me if I would transfer some money into her bank, using my phone. I admit, I did not want to do that! Now I was having to really ask myself what kind of human being I was. I had to balance my wish to just go home, to let myself off the hook, with my desire to be helpful. I could reassure myself that my intention was to be kind, but honestly, transfer money into a stranger’s bank account? What if this was a scam? What if I was being tricked?
Then she asked me if I would call her partner, to allow him to give me his bank details (he was in the supermarket, trying to find a solution.) Everything in me wanted to say no, and yet another part of me said, “it’s cold and dark, you can’t just leave them here.” I wanted my faith to be convenient! In my version of this story, I would give her £5 that I happened to have in my purse (that I had not left at home), and then get on and feel good about myself. I wanted her to accept that I didn’t have any ready cash and go away. I didn’t want to stand about getting cold and feeling anxious and worry about whether I was doing a good thing or being taken advantage of.
Yet through it all, I kept thinking, “it’s cold and dark.” I had to let myself know about the times when I have been cold, in the dark, with no one to help. None of this was easy, or quick, or convenient.
So, I transferred the money and wished them well.

Amy explained that when her modern-day family saw the pageant performed in Nauvoo over a decade ago, they recognised the beautiful pioneer spirit there and knew they wanted to be part of it. After applying multiple times, they were accepted as part of the family cast of the Nauvoo and British Pageant to be performed in Nauvoo during 2018.
Remembering that amazing experience, Amy reminisced, “We danced and sang and worked day after day in the hot sun to learn our parts, to be ready to perform. Our kids danced and played music in the country band all while costumed from head to toe in 1840’s pioneer attire. One week of rehearsals and the next week is go time! It’s quite miraculous how it all comes together. I’ll always remember and cherish the feeling of unity we shared as a family.”

“Dad, I don’t want to go,” Spencer said.
“You promised Grandpa you would help him today,” Dad said.
“I don’t want to go to the dump,” Spencer said. “Why doesn’t Grandpa put his garbage can on the curb like everyone else?”
“You promised you would go, so you need to go,” Dad said.
“This is silly,” Spencer thought. Why did he have to waste a day of his vacation at the dump?
A few minutes later, Grandpa drove up in his pickup truck. Two garbage cans were loaded in the back. Spencer climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“We have just a few stops to make before we go to the dump,” Grandpa said.
“This is going to take forever,” Spencer thought as he stared out the window.
Grandpa pulled into his neighbors’ driveway. The couple who lived there had been his grandparents’ neighbors for almost 50 years. Arlo and Wanda were always nice to Spencer when he came to visit. The front door opened and Wanda walked out.
“I wish you wouldn’t trouble yourself with this,” she said to Grandpa as he hauled her garbage can into the truck.
“No trouble at all,” Grandpa said.
“You have the kindest grandpa in the world,” Wanda said to Spencer.
“Give Arlo my best,” Grandpa said.
“I will. Thank you,” Wanda said. A tear fell down her cheek.
“What’s wrong with Arlo?” Spencer asked as they drove away.
“He’s really sick. Wanda has to do everything for him now. It’s a lot of hard work, but she doesn’t complain.”
A few minutes later they pulled into another driveway. A small woman was struggling to keep a garbage can from tipping over as she tried to move it from the garage.
“Minnie!” Grandpa jumped out of the truck. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just trying to help,” she said.
Minnie was another one of Grandpa’s neighbors. Grandpa took the garbage can from her.
“I think you’ve grown a foot since last summer, Spencer,” Minnie said, smiling at Spencer. “I’m sorry I haven’t brought over any waffles, but these old hands don’t do much cooking anymore.”
Minnie was an excellent cook and used to bring over a batch of waffles when Spencer and his family came to visit Grandma and Grandpa.
“That’s OK, Minnie,” Spencer said.
“I don’t know what I would do without your grandpa and grandma, Spencer,” Minnie said. “This world needs more people like them.”
Grandpa loaded Minnie’s can into the back of the truck, and soon they were driving down a long, dusty road outside of town. “This is our last stop,” Grandpa said.
“Who lives here?” Spencer asked.
“A new family that moved in a few months ago. They are having a hard time. I told them I would haul their trash for them so they wouldn’t have to pay for garbage service. At first they told me I didn’t need to.”
“Then why do it?” Spencer asked.
Grandpa smiled at Spencer. “Because I can,” he said.
Spencer stared out the window, thinking about what Grandpa had just said. He realized that Grandpa didn’t help people because he had to do it. He helped people because that’s the kind of person he was.
Grandpa parked the truck, but before he could get out, Spencer said, “You stay in the truck, Grandpa. I’ll get these cans for you.”
Grandpa smiled and let Spencer do the work. Spencer hauled the garbage cans to the road and then climbed back into the truck.
“Now we can go to the dump,” Grandpa said.
As they drove away, Spencer thought about all the people Grandpa helped.
“I guess helping people isn’t silly after all,” Spencer said.
Grandpa smiled. “No,” he said. “It’s one of the most important things we can do.”

I also had the privilege to go to the Nauvoo Temple and participate in baptisms for some of my ancestors. The Nauvoo Temple was beautiful inside and out. I felt a special spirit there and was grateful to the early Saints in Nauvoo. Building the temple was so important to them. They worked hard to finish the temple’s construction, so they could complete temple ordinances and make and keep sacred covenants before they were forced out of this beautiful city.
As our time to leave the city of Nauvoo drew near, I felt very sad. It was easy to imagine how difficult it was for the early Saints to leave. My family and I walked down Parley Street, following the Trail of Hope. As I looked back at the Nauvoo Temple, it stood so beautiful and brilliant on the hill. I realized that the Saints of Nauvoo had great faith to leave their beautiful homes and a temple of God. As I walked to the very edge of the Mississippi River, I recognized that many of the early Saints did not know where they were going. They had great faith that God would guide them and protect them.

Ron’s hobby requires that he use his imagination to make ordinary items appear to be something else. For example, the first project Ron built was a model grainery. He needed something to look like miniature corrugated metal siding. He gave it some thought, then used aluminum foil laid on top of some corduroy material and pressed into ridges with a fine-toothed comb. The result had the look of corrugated iron.

Although Ron’s talents are not widely publicized, he did pick up a best of show award in woodworking at the Utah State Fair. His projects are often on display in craft shops in the Salt Lake City area.

Because be grew up in Utah, Ron likes to research and photograph old mining towns. He then uses the information he gathers to guide him in reconstructing what the town might have been like many years ago. With styrofoam, plywood, plaster of paris, and small items from hobby stores, Ron is careful about detail. “I like to add enough detail so it looks like you could walk right into it. Sometimes I just get down at eye level and stare into it awhile and try to visualize what would look appropriate.” Perhaps that is Ron’s biggest talent. He has an ability to make a scene look real. There is an authenticity to his work, a feeling that any moment the screen door on some miniature shanty will swing open, or a tiny whistle will call the men back to the mines to work.

Instead of just making a small-scale representation of a scene, Ron has captured some of the feeling of that time period. The shale sidehills he scrapes out of plaster of paris look amazingly like the hills of southern Utah. Instead of neat, orderly town areas, Ron’s miniatures have the careful casualness that real life creates—a bottle abandoned in a vacant lot, scrap lumber being split for kindling, a diminutive dog straining at his leash to get to a cat perched on a fence post—things that would actually exist in such a town.

To do such detailed work, Ron has developed a great deal of patience. When not working on his models, he enjoys listening to music and getting out in Utah’s back country to hike, ski, or go camping. But wherever he goes, Ron is observant. Instead of just looking, he really sees.

Ron’s capacity to see clearly has expanded into new dimensions since serving in the Arkansas Little Rock Mission. The experience he had spreading the gospel has given him insight into people that he grew to love and admire. Now when he creates the small towns and little scenes, he can imagine the type of people who once lived in the full-size version and what their lives might have been like. This second sight is valuable to an artist and allows him to preserve something of the heart as well as of earth and stone.

To Ron Wolters, his model building is more than an interesting hobby. It has been a way of studying history and his heritage while preserving them in miniature.

Sabrina watched as Mom walked to the door with their neighbors. “Thank you for this book,” the father said. He was holding a Book of Mormon.
“Mom, why do you talk about the Church to everyone?” Sabrina asked later while they washed dishes together.
“It’s because my testimony of the Church is like a treasure,” Mom said. “It makes me happy. And I want to share it with others so they can be happy too!”
Sabrina pictured Mom’s shiny necklace in her jewelry box. “What do you mean it’s like a treasure?”
“Well, a testimony is very valuable,” Mom said. “It’s a gift from Heavenly Father that helps us know what’s true.”
“How did you get it?” Sabrina wanted to know.
Mom handed Sabrina a sparkling clean dish to dry. “I got it a little at a time. When I pray or read the scriptures, I feel peaceful and warm inside. It’s like I’m adding to my testimony treasure.”
Sabrina nodded slowly. Could she get a testimony treasure?
On Sunday, Sabrina’s Primary teacher told a story about Jesus Christ. Sabrina listened closely. Sister Lopez said Jesus invited all the little children to come to Him. He blessed and taught them. When Sabrina thought about Jesus, she started to feel warm in her heart.
Sabrina hurried to find Mom after Primary. “Mom, guess what?” She told Mom about the warm feeling.
“That’s beautiful,” Mom said. “That feeling is when the Holy Ghost touches our hearts and lets us know the gospel is true.”
Sabrina smiled up at Mom. “That’s what happened! It made me happy inside.” The Holy Ghost had been so quiet that Sabrina knew she wouldn’t have noticed Him if she hadn’t been reverent.
Mom hugged her tight. “Now you’re getting your own testimony treasure.” Sabrina hugged Mom back. She wanted to share her treasure with everyone—just like Mom did! But how could she do that?
That night Sabrina found a pass-along card with a picture of Jesus on the front. She tucked it in her backpack.
The next day when it was time for recess, Sabrina remembered the card. She pulled it out and went to find her friend Carla. “Here, Carla, this is for you,” Sabrina said.
Carla held the card close. “Thank you! I love pictures of Jesus.”
Sabrina showed Carla the website on the back. “You can learn more about Jesus’s Church here.”
“What church is that?” Carla asked.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Sabrina said. “Going to church and learning about Jesus makes me happy.”
Carla put the card in her pocket. “I’ll show this card to my mom.”
A few weeks later, Carla ran up to Sabrina before class. “I have something to tell you!” she said. She had a big smile on her face.
Sabrina was excited. What could it be? Carla smiled. “My family went to your church! And it was like you said—I felt happy there.”
“I knew you would feel the Holy Ghost!” Sabrina said.
“And I think we’re going to get baptized soon!”
Sabrina jumped up and hugged Carla. Now they could share their testimony treasures together!

President Romney taught of the testimony-strengthening power of scriptures with this personal example:
“I urge you to get acquainted with [the Book of Mormon]. Read it to your children; they are not too young to understand it. I remember reading it with one of my lads when he was very young. … I lay in the lower bunk and he in the upper bunk. We were each reading aloud alternate paragraphs of those last three marvelous chapters of Second Nephi. I heard his voice breaking and thought he had a cold. … As we finished he said … , ‘Daddy, do you ever cry when you read the Book of Mormon?’
“‘Yes, Son, … sometimes the Spirit of the Lord so witnesses to my soul that the Book of Mormon is true that I do cry.’
“‘Well,’ he said, ‘that is what happened to me tonight.’”

As a boy, I learned a great lesson of faith and sacrifice as I worked on my grandfather’s farm during the terrible economic depression of the 1930s. The taxes on the farm were unpaid, and Grandfather, like so many, had no money. There was a drought in the land, and some cows and horses were dying for lack of grass and hay.
One day when we were harvesting what little hay there was in the field, Grandfather told us to take the wagon to the corner of the field where the best hay was, fill the wagon as full as we could, and take it to the tithing yard as payment of his tithing.
I wondered how Grandfather could use the hay to pay tithing when some of the cows that we were depending upon to sustain us might starve. I even questioned if the Lord expected that much sacrifice. Ultimately I marveled at his great faith that somehow the Lord would provide. The legacy of faith he passed on to his posterity was far greater than money, because he established in the minds of his children and grandchildren that he loved the Lord and His holy work more than earthly things. Grandfather never became wealthy, but he died at peace with the Lord and with himself.

I had already had the opportunity to index, but I admit it was not my favorite part of the work of family history. So, it was done a little here and a little there, especially during challenges. However, this year, because of all of you and the Lord, I felt a strength, and a motivation that allowed me to index beyond what I thought I could. I felt close to these people; I was participating in something marvelous. The spirit of Elijah was present. I sometimes saw the correct names materialize before my eyes. Indexing has taken on a spiritual dimension for me. I will continue to do it. The work must be done on both sides of the veil. So, yes, thank you, thank you to the Lord and to each of you for your encouragement, your help, and your love.

“Time to go, Jacob!” Mom called.
Four-year-old Jacob hopped off his bed and ran downstairs. “What are we going to buy? Can we get treats? Can I help you?”
It was Jacob’s turn to go shopping with Mom, and he was full of questions.
“We are going to buy groceries, and if you are a really big helper, we just might have time to make cookies for family home evening when we get home.”
Jacob smiled as Mom helped him into his seat in the car and buckled the seat belt. This was going to be great!
Mom pushed the grocery cart up and down the aisles while Jacob held the shopping list. He helped organize the groceries and got to choose if they got red apples or yellow apples, and red potatoes or white potatoes.
When they were finished getting the items on the list, Jacob helped push the heavy cart up to the checkout line. He watched as Mom put the groceries on the conveyor belt.
Suddenly, Jacob noticed that the shelves he was standing by were full of candy and gum. Mom didn’t buy those things very often. Jacob saw a package of Blueberry Blast bubble gum and knew it tasted really good. He put the package in his pocket.
As they were driving home, Mom said, “You’re very quiet, Jacob. Are you tired?”
“No.”
“OK. Will you help me unload the groceries when we get home?”
“Sure.”
When they got home, they carried the bags of groceries inside and put them on the kitchen counter. Mom looked at Jacob carefully. “Where did you get that big piece of gum?” she asked.
Jacob shrugged his shoulders and looked at the floor. Mom knelt down and asked him again.
“Where did you get that gum, Jacob?”
Jacob took the package of gum out of his pocket.
“Did you take that gum from the store?”
Jacob felt like crying. He nodded his head slowly. Mom looked sad.
“Jacob, when we do something that is wrong—like taking gum from the store without paying for it—it’s like digging a deep hole and standing in the bottom of it. We need to do important things to get out of the hole.”
“What do we do first?” Jacob asked.
“We need to know that we have done something wrong and feel sorry about it. I think you already know that taking the gum is wrong. Are you sorry?”
“Yes. I know it was wrong. I feel sad now,” Jacob said.
“Then we need to fix the problem the best we can. Since you already opened the package of gum and ate some of it, we can’t give it back to the store. What do you think we should do?”
“I have some money. I could go back to the store and pay for the gum.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll take you.”
Jacob ran upstairs and got his money jar. Mom helped him count out enough to pay for the gum.
When they got to the store, Mom held Jacob’s hand and took him to the manager’s desk. She told the manager that Jacob had something to tell her.
Jacob felt nervous. He pulled the package of gum out of his pocket and put it on the counter.
“Did you take that gum without paying for it?” the manager asked.
Jacob nodded.
“Would you like to pay for it now?”
“Yes.”
Jacob put his money on the counter. The manager printed a receipt. She put the gum in a bag, gave the receipt to Jacob, and smiled at him. “Thank you for being honest and coming back to pay for the gum,” she said.
Jacob felt much better as he and Mom walked back to the car.
“You are doing a good job climbing out of the hole, Jacob,” Mom said. “But there’s something else you need to do.”
“What?”
“You need to tell Heavenly Father that you are sorry, and promise Him that you will try to keep the commandments from now on.”
When Mom and Jacob got home, they went into a quiet room and knelt down together. Mom helped Jacob say a prayer. He told Heavenly Father that he was sorry and wouldn’t take anything from the store without paying for it ever again.
When the prayer was finished, Jacob was surprised that he didn’t feel bad anymore. Not bad at all! In fact, he felt clean and happy again—just like he had climbed out of a hole, and had a bath too!