Gospel Story Finder

When I was born, I was given the name of Ronald A. Rasband. My last name honors my father’s ancestral line. The middle initial A was given to me to remind me to honor my mother’s Danish Anderson ancestry.
My great-great-grandfather Jens Anderson was from Denmark. And in 1861 the Lord led two Mormon missionaries to the Jens and Ane Cathrine Anderson home, where the missionaries introduced them and their 16-year-old son, Andrew, to the restored gospel. Thus began a legacy of faith of which my family and I are the beneficiaries. The Andersons read the Book of Mormon and were baptized a short time later. The following year, the Anderson family heeded the call of a prophet to cross the Atlantic to join the Saints in North America.
Sadly, Jens died on the ocean voyage, but his wife and son continued to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving on September 3, 1862. Despite their hardships and their heartaches, their faith never wavered, and neither has the faith of many of their descendants.
In my office hangs a painting that captures so beautifully a symbolic reminder of that first meeting between my ancestors and those dedicated early missionaries. I am determined not to forget my heritage, and because of my name I will forever remember their legacy of faithfulness and sacrifice.

Mylea Moua’s cousins make fun of her for going to church. Some of her close family members discourage her church attendance. Her friends at school wonder why she would ever want to be a Latter-day Saint.
Mylea’s challenges are not unique in the Twin Cities Second (Hmong) Branch of the Anoka Minnesota Stake. Many of the youth have less-active parents and nonmember family members who mock their religion. It would be easy for Mylea, a Mia Maid, to just quit coming to church. “A lot of Hmong people ask ‘How can the Church help you?’ They reject it,” she says. “I don’t really care what people think, because how I feel makes me happy. But I feel bad for them because they don’t have the gospel.”
Unlike many of the older Hmong generation in Minnesota, Mylea and the other youth feel it’s possible to be both Hmong and LDS. “I do the best I can and try to be a good example,” she says.

By then, running had become a way of life. She challenged herself more, pushed herself harder, and then, in 1978, faced the two greatest challenges of her life. One challenge was to run completely across the United States. The other was to accept the message of the Mormon missionaries.

She met the missionaries just before she left for the United States and asked them to come back because “I was frantic with last-minute preparations.”

In some real though not yet understood ways, that gruelling run had prepared her for the gospel. The open road “opened my mind and heart to the hidden reaches of a hidden existence. I was ready to discover myself.” Beyond the fear of failure and the pain of the hard work lay an unshakable sense of self, a self that honored the truth and despised sham. And the “purifying solitude” of long runs had given her an instinct for joy.

The chance to plunge into another layer of self-discovery came within a month of her return to Johannesburg. Two missionaries—different ones—called on her. She participated enthusiastically in the six discussions, “sure that they would keep coming indefinitely since I so greatly enjoyed their visits.” But when they asked her if she would be baptized on the next Saturday, “I was completely stunned, I made sure that I was lousy the next Saturday—and the next, and the next.”

But she knew too much about herself now to avoid this second great challenge. “I knew I was just making excuses. I also knew that if I choice not to join the Church I would lose my way again, for I knew there was light in my life that hadn’t been there before.”

The clarity of the decision she must make did not make it any easier. She would have to be baptized alone, the only member of her family to join the Church. She would be changing her life-style for a third time. These things would hurt. But she prayed and “felt the Spirit of Heavenly Father telling me that I must do the right thing.” The Spirit also whispered “that only I could make the choice.”

She made her decision. On 30 September 1978 at 4:30 P.M., she was waiting in Ramah Chapel for her turn to be baptized. It was emotionally a repeat of her experience in Los Angeles. “There were many people being baptized with me. They all looked so calm, so sure, and so radiantly happy. I was very nervous and very unsure and, at that moment, very unhappy. Had I prepared properly? Was I doing the fight thing? It was an enormous commitment—would I be able to keep it?”

And was joining the Church worth it? Again, yes! “I know that I made the right decision. I know there will be many times when I will pray for strength merely to take the next step, but I knew, after I was baptized, that I could get to the end of the road. This is the most important journey of my life.”

Since her baptism she has served as Sunday School secretary, Relief Society social relations leader and visiting teacher, and—naturally—as athletic adviser to the Activities Committee.

1 Heber Jeddy Grant was a tall, thin boy, and he wasn’t very strong. When the neighborhood boys played baseball, he played with the younger, slower boys because he couldn’t even throw the ball from one base to another.
2 Jeddy really wanted to play ball with the boys his own age, so he decided to do something about it. He spent many hours in his mother’s boardinghouse, shining the boarders’ boots so that he could earn enough money to buy a baseball.
3 When Jeddy had earned a dollar, he bought a baseball. Then he practiced countless hours throwing it against his neighbor’s barn.
4 Finally Jeddy’s skill improved. The boys his own age were impressed with how well he could throw a ball, and they let him play baseball with them.
5 Eventually Jeddy’s baseball team became the territory champions; they went on to beat the championship teams of California, Colorado, and Wyoming.
6 Heber Jeddy Grant learned the importance of setting a goal and then working hard until it was achieved. Many years later this ability helped him greatly when he became the seventh President of the Church.

Before I received my patriarchal blessing, my stake patriarch asked me to bear my testimony. When I did it, I cried, which made me feel weak and unimportant. But the patriarch told me that I was crying because I felt the Spirit. There was no need to be embarrassed.
Then when I received my blessing, I felt like God was also telling me that I was not weak. God knows me and loves me.
My patriarchal blessing has been a huge help in my life. When I get very emotional and feel like I’m not important and that no one understands me, I can read my blessing and realize I have worth and a purpose. I am reminded that I can become that amazing person I’ve always wanted to be.

As a teenager, I had a bad attitude. One day, I came home from seventh grade, slammed my books on the table, and began my habitual rant about the mounds of unfair homework, friends that ditched me, girls that ignored me, and the injustice of being shorter than not just the seventh graders but most of the fifth graders.
My mom unsympathetically put down her iron and replied to my complaints: “You know Blake, you can’t always choose your circumstances, but you can choose your attitude. And by the way, you have a list of chores you need to do before dinner.”
My mom’s words settled deep. I am not sure why, but it is as if it were the first time I had entertained the notion that I did have some control over situations that in the past left me feeling like a victim, powerless over my destiny. It was empowering.
I suddenly understood obstacles were here to stay but my attitude and how I reacted was 100 percent mine. Mom was right and at that moment I had what the Savior refers to as a change of heart.

After spending most of the winter and spring on missionary journeys to Canada, “Elder Young,” as he was now often called, along with Heber C. Kimball, responded to the revelation the Prophet had received calling the Saints to gather at Kirtland. Apparently some of the others who gathered there had difficulty finding the right kind of employment or in getting paid on time, so, contrary to counsel, they went off to surrounding towns for the winter. But as Brigham later remembered, “I told them I had gathered to Kirtland because I was so directed by the Prophet of God, and I … was going to stay here and seek the things that pertained to the kingdom of God by listening to the teachings of his servants, and I should work for my brethren and trust in God and them that I would be paid.”9

During a childhood camping trip, Elder Steven R. Bangerter and his family rode dirt bikes to the top of a mountain. On the way down, he lost his way and became separated from the others.
As he knelt that afternoon and pleaded with his Father in Heaven for help, in his mind’s eye he saw the trail he had lost. Just as he started down it, “my brother reached the top of the trail on his motorcycle, embraced me, and guided me back through the dark to the camp, which was hours away.”

Finally, here is one last special experience. For the last few months I have struggled with my 15-year-old son, Andy, to keep him practicing the piano. He made the choice to play some years ago, and I feel within my heart that he should continue. My stock remarks have included, “Someday you’ll be grateful I kept you at it. Someday you’ll have to play while on your mission or elsewhere.” How excited I was this evening when my husband picked up the June 1983 New Era and, after scanning it briefly, called our son to him and began reading aloud. All six of our children listened intently as he, with a cracking voice, read Alma J. Yates’s “A Hymn for Guaymas.” In it, Elder Richards’s curse—his mother’s insistence that he practice the piano daily—became a blessing when he was pressed into playing in that little branch.
Our son Andy is saving diligently for his stereo—and his mission. Tonight as his dad walked in to go to bed, Andy quickly found the first hymn Elder Richards had played, “Ere You Left Your Room This Morning,” and tried it himself. Thanks for the lesson I’ve been trying so hard to teach. It was perfect. Keep up your great work. The New Era is fantastic!
Jan YorkWarsaw, Indiana

The article in the April 1990 issue, “I’m Sorry, Bertha,” was very meaningful to me. I suppose it is because I’ve been rather like Bertha all my life. The teenagers in the ward I attended in a small town were full of “exclusive” groups and I was never a part of them. I was rarely invited to a party or other activities. Even throughout my high school years I was still left out.
I am a young adult now and am still much the same type of person—shy, self-conscious, vulnerable. I have been hurt deeply. I only hope the article can help youth see the need to reach out to other people and include them in their activities. Please look to see who you may be hurting by your attitude.
Name Withheld

One of the finest things that came out of the decade of the sixties was the trend toward and the emphasis upon individuality. This was reflected in the catchphrase “Do your own thing” and in Paul Anka’s lyrics, “I did it my way.” But that generation did not originate this idea. It is as old as the human race, even much older. At other times, it was expressed in other, perhaps more eloquent language.

It was precisely this idea that worked such a change in the attitudes and accomplishments of President David O. McKay. You will remember that at one point during his mission in the British Isles as a young man, he reached a point of discouragement when he felt inept and unproductive. In the midst of this despondency, he saw, one day, inscribed on a stone over the entryway of a building, the phrase, “What e’er thou art, act well thy part.” This short statement brought home to him a great truth he had not previously understood: It matters little where we serve or in what capacity. What does matter is how we serve.

Last spring, I was asked to model for the prom fashion show on a local television station in Los Angeles. I was so excited to be one of the five girls chosen to be on TV. After weeks of rehearsal and preparation, we finally had the dress fitting. I quickly learned that the director of the show had already picked out all of the dresses to be modeled. I had been chosen to wear the most revealing dresses.
When I saw the dresses I was expected to wear, a line from the Young Women theme came to me: “We will ‘stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places’ (Mosiah 18:9).”
I felt extremely uncomfortable with the dresses that had been chosen for me, and I knew that I would not be standing “as a witness of God” if I wore them. I requested a dress change but was told that the director wanted me to wear those specific dresses and not any others. My only other option was to exclude myself from the show.
The decision was difficult to make, but I knew I was doing the right thing when I chose not to be part of the show. I wanted to keep the commandments under all circumstances, not just when I had nothing to lose.
[illustration] Photograph © PhotoSpin

Only six months ago you faithful members of the Church of Jesus Christ sustained me as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. This calling came as a great surprise to many, but especially to our grandchildren, who said, “But he is our Opa! He is just a regular person. He played with us, and he used to cut our hair!”
After the October general conference, my wife and I talked to our children on the telephone, and one of our grandsons said, “Since we were so far away from you and could not be with you in Salt Lake City, at least you should have waved to us when you were giving your conference talk.” We have not yet been with our children and grandchildren until this general conference, and so I wave today, hoping to make a grandson happy. I also wave to all of you wonderful members, whose prayers and love are so important and appreciated by my wife and me.
In my growing-up years in Germany, I attended church in many different locations and circumstances—in humble back rooms, in impressive villas, and in very functional, modern chapels. All of these buildings had one important factor in common: the Spirit of God was present; the love of the Savior could be felt as we assembled as a branch or ward family.
The Zwickau chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever that operated the bellows to make the organ work. Even before I was an Aaronic Priesthood bearer, I sometimes had the great privilege to assist in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns of the Restoration, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. The eyes of the organist unmistakably indicated whether I was doing fine or needed to increase my efforts quickly. I always felt honored by the importance of this duty and the trust that the organist had placed in me. It was a wonderful feeling of accomplishment to have a responsibility and to be part of this great work.
There was an additional benefit that came from this assignment: the bellows operator sat in a seat that offered a great view of a stained-glass window that beautified the front part of the chapel. The stained glass portrayed the First Vision, with Joseph Smith kneeling in the Sacred Grove, looking up toward heaven and into a pillar of light.
During the hymns of the congregation and even during talks and testimonies given by our members, I often looked at this depiction of a most sacred moment in world history. In my mind’s eye I saw Joseph receiving knowledge, witness, and divine instructions as he became a blessed instrument in the hand of our Heavenly Father.
I felt a special spirit while looking at the beautiful scene in this window picture of a believing young boy in a sacred grove who made a courageous decision to earnestly pray to our Heavenly Father, who listened and responded lovingly to him.
Here I was, a young boy in post–World War II Germany, living in a city in ruins, thousands of miles away from Palmyra in North America and more than a hundred years after the event actually took place. By the universal power of the Holy Ghost, I felt in my heart and in my mind that it was true, that Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices. The Spirit of God comforted my soul at this young age with an assurance of the reality of this sacred moment that resulted in the beginning of a worldwide movement destined to “roll forth, until it has filled the whole earth” (D&C 65:2). I believed Joseph Smith’s testimony of that glorious experience in the Sacred Grove then, and I know it now. God has spoken to mankind again!
Looking back, I am grateful for so many friends who helped me in my youth to gain a testimony of the restored Church of Jesus Christ. First I exercised simple faith in their testimonies, and then I received the divine witness of the Spirit to my mind and to my heart. I count Joseph Smith among those whose testimony of Christ helped me to develop my own testimony of the Savior. Before I recognized the tutoring of the Spirit testifying to me that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, my youthful heart felt that he was a friend of God and would therefore, quite naturally, also be a friend of mine. I knew I could trust Joseph Smith.
The scriptures teach us that spiritual gifts are given to those who ask of God, who love Him, and who keep His commandments (see D&C 46:9). “All have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God.
“To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby” (D&C 46:11–12).
Today I know that my young testimony benefited greatly from the testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and many friends in the Church who knew “by the Holy Ghost … that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and that he was crucified for the sins of the world” (D&C 46:13). Their good examples, caring love, and helping hands blessed me to receive another special gift of the Spirit described in the scriptures as I was yearning for more light and truth: “To others it is given to believe on their words, that they also might have eternal life if they continue [faithfully]” (D&C 46:14). What a wonderful and precious gift this is!
As we truly humble ourselves, we will be blessed with this gift to have faith and to hope for things which are not seen but are true (see Alma 32:21). As we experiment upon the words given to us by the scriptures and the living prophets—even if we only have a desire to believe—and do not resist the Spirit of the Lord, our souls will be enlarged and our understanding will be enlightened (see Alma 32:26–28).
The Savior Himself explained this merciful principle clearly to all the world in His great intercessory prayer, given not only for His Apostles but for all the Saints, even for us today, wherever we might be living. He said:
“Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word;
“That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me” (John 17:20–21; emphasis added).
This is how Joseph Smith’s First Vision blesses our own personal lives, the lives of families, and eventually the whole human family: we come to believe in Jesus Christ through the testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Prophets and apostles throughout the history of mankind have had divine manifestations similar to Joseph’s. Moses saw God face-to-face and learned that he was a son of God “in the similitude of [His] Only Begotten” (see Moses 1:1–6). The Apostle Paul testified that the resurrected Jesus Christ appeared to him on the road to Damascus and made Paul one of His great missionaries (see Acts 26:9–23). Hearing Paul’s witness of his heavenly vision during the trial at Caesarea, the powerful King Agrippa admitted, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian” (Acts 26:28).
And there were many other ancient prophets who also bore powerful testimony of Christ. All of these manifestations, ancient and modern, lead those who believe to the divine source of all righteousness and hope—to God, our Heavenly Father, and to His Son, Jesus Christ.
God has spoken to Joseph Smith for the purpose of blessing all of God’s children with His mercy and love, even in times of uncertainties and insecurities, of wars and rumors of wars, of natural and personal disasters. The Savior said, “Behold, mine arm of mercy is extended towards you, and whosoever will come, him will I receive” (3 Nephi 9:14). And all who accept this invitation will be “encircled about with the matchless bounty of his love” (Alma 26:15).
Through our faith in the personal witness of the Prophet Joseph and the reality of the First Vision, through study and prayer, deep and sincere, we will be blessed with a firm faith in the Savior of the world, who spoke to Joseph “on the morning of a beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (Joseph Smith—History 1:14).
Faith in Jesus Christ and a testimony of Him and His universal Atonement is not just a doctrine with great theological value. Such faith is a universal gift, glorious for all cultural regions of this earth, irrespective of language, race, color, nationality, or socioeconomic circumstance. The powers of reason may be used to try to understand this gift, but those who feel its effects most deeply are those who are willing to accept its blessings, which come from a pure and clean life of following the path of true repentance and living the commandments of God.
As we remember and honor the Prophet Joseph Smith, my heart reaches out to him in gratitude. He was a good, honest, humble, intelligent, and courageous young man with a heart of gold and an unshaken faith in God. He had integrity. In response to his humble prayer, the heavens opened again. Joseph Smith had actually seen a vision. He knew it, and he knew that God knew it, and he could not deny it. (See Joseph Smith—History 1:25.)
Through his work and sacrifice, I now have a true understanding of our Heavenly Father and His Son, our Redeemer and Savior, Jesus Christ, and I can feel the power of the Holy Ghost and know of Heavenly Father’s plan for us, His children. For me, these are truly the fruits of the First Vision.
I am grateful that early in my life I was blessed with a simple faith that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, that he saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in a vision. He translated the Book of Mormon by the gift and power of God. That testimony has been confirmed to me over and over again.
As one of the least among you, but in my calling as one of the Apostles of Jesus Christ, I testify that He truly lives, that He is the Messiah. I do have a personal witness of Jesus Christ, the Savior and Redeemer of all mankind. I received this knowledge by the unspeakable peace and power of the Spirit of God. The desire of my heart and of my mind is to be pure and faithful in serving Him now and forever.
I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When I first started coming to volunteer at the PCC, I had the idea it would be wonderful to see a sunrise from the beach. But when I parted the drapes and saw clouds, I decided to wait for another day. After a few trips I made an interesting link. When the sky is cloudless, it’s actually hard to see a sunrise. But on cloudy days, the rising sun transforms those dark, threatening shapes in the sky. First a peach-colored wash silhouettes the emerging ink spots. Then gold begins to gild their dark edges. Suddenly, they become billowing volumes of pink, purple, sapphire, orange, and yellow. Brilliant shafts of light break through the atmospheric strife, and the whole sky is resplendent and alive. Here’s what I’m talking about, taken on my phone two blocks away, just a month ago: Obviously, it is necessary for me to be on time for this first class of the day, and I try to come ready to be taught by the teacher with a very still, small voice. The link I’ve made is priceless to me: We are blessed to witness the Son of God in our lives because “dark clouds of trouble [do] hang o’er us.”30
As we experience affliction, hardship, and even persecution, His light not only becomes more visible, but more beautiful. And we are filled with gratitude for the cloudy days and even the treacherous storms of life.

Our family had made the German adjustment well. In addition to assimilating another language and culture, we had been lovingly accepted into our little branch. However, we knew that our time in Trier would be relatively short.

Theaters in Germany are classified according to their size, the number of orchestra members, and available finances. Trier is a small “city theatre” and is listed among European theaters as a “D” house. The dream of every opera singer is to be employed as a soloist in an “A” house. “A” houses, or theaters, are comparable to the Metropolitan Opera Company in New York City and La Scala in Milan. They include such opera theaters as Hamburg, Munich, Berlin, and the Vienna State Opera.

It was also my goal to sing in such theaters. I had worked hard and had done everything in my power to climb the rungs to a “C” house on my way to the larger opera stages. I shudder to think how many auditions I sang and how many times I heard the words “Thank you. You will hear from us if we need you.” Many of my colleagues were landing jobs in “C” and “B” houses. With each audition and each rejection, my confidence and hope waned.

Three years passed. One afternoon I received a call from an agent in Vienna. He had seen me in the tenor role of Cassio in the opera Othello and had recommended me to Eberhardt Waechter. Herr Waechter was looking for a tenor soloist to complete the ensemble for his upcoming position as director of the Vienna Volksoper.

Before I boarded the train for Frankfurt, where the audition was to be held, Jeannie and I once again prayed for guidance. We had worked and prepared in every way possible and were trying to be patient. We shared our dream yet again with the Lord and put the outcome in His hands. Just a few hours later I called Jeannie with the miraculous news that I had, indeed, signed a contract. It wasn’t until later that I learned that the Volksoper was an “A” house.

With deep reverence and gratitude, my thoughts turned to the words “Neither shall your vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, saith the Lord of hosts” (Malachi 3:11; see also 3 Nephi 24:11).

Had I been offered a contract after any of the previous auditions, I would have immediately signed away the next several years of my life. I believe success had been withheld until my voice, my acting ability, and my command of the language had ripened. Even after signing, I had two additional years of preparation before the contract went into effect.

“Liz, I’m selling walnuts so you need to sell something else,” Abby said to her older sister. “And hurry. We’re meeting Hannah and Zack in five minutes!” Abby continued picking up walnuts that had fallen from the walnut trees in their yard.
Liz loved to play store with her neighbors, but today she couldn’t think of anything to sell. She grabbed her bike and headed down the street. She saw Hannah and Zack setting up their stores under some trees in front of their house. Hannah handed Liz some leaves from the trees. “We each get 20 leaves to spend,” she said.
“What are you selling?” Liz asked.
“Mom let me have some granola bars to sell, and Zack got some aloe vera leaves from our backyard,” Hannah said.
“What are you selling, Liz?” Zack asked.
Liz bit her lip. “It’s a surprise.”
Liz rode her bike around their neighborhood looking for something to sell. Her neighbors, the Bakers, had a beautiful tangerine tree in their front yard, and the tangerines looked delicious. Liz noticed that their car wasn’t in the driveway. She hurried to the tree and filled her pockets with tangerines. As she picked them she smelled their tangy-sweet scent. Liz rode back to her friends and piled the tangerines next to Abby’s walnuts.
“Those look yummy!” Abby said. “How much?”
“Five leaves each.”
“I’ll take two.”
Liz handed Abby two tangerines and added the ten leaves Abby handed her to her own. Now she had 30 leaves! She went to Hannah’s store to buy a granola bar. They cost 15 leaves each.
“I’ll take one.” Liz handed Hannah the leaves.
“Where did you get so many leaves?” Hannah asked. “Did you cheat and take them from the trees?”
“No, I sold some tangerines to Abby,” Liz said.
“Really? How much for the tangerines?”
“Five leaves each.”
“We’ll be right over,” Hannah said.
Liz sold six more tangerines to Hannah and Zack. She had never earned so many leaves when they played store! She was able to buy five walnuts from Abby, an aloe vera leaf from Zack, and another granola bar from Hannah. Plus she ate a tangerine. It was juicy and sweet.
Liz saw the Bakers drive their car into the driveway, right next to the tangerine tree. Liz tried to hide her pile of tangerines.
“Liz, did you take those tangerines without asking?” Abby asked.
“No. It’s not stealing if they don’t care, Abby. They have lots of tangerines,” Liz said. But she was scared her neighbors would see the tangerines she had picked. Would they be angry with her?
“We should give them back,” Abby said.
Liz bit her lip. “How? We already ate them.”
Abby thought for a moment. “We can give them some of the walnuts from our tree.”
“That’s not the same thing.” Liz put her hands on her hips. “And don’t tell me what to do, Abby. You’re only five.”
Tears came to Abby’s eyes, and Liz felt bad. Abby was right, but she was scared to tell her neighbors she had taken their tangerines. “Will you come with me, Abby?”
Abby nodded, and the girls gathered up some walnuts to give to the Bakers. Liz went to the front door and knocked timidly. Mrs. Baker answered the door.
“Hi,” Liz said, holding out the walnuts. “We brought these for you.”
Mrs. Baker smiled. “Thank you, girls! What nice neighbors you are!”
Liz looked at the ground. “We brought them because I took some tangerines from your tree while you were gone. I didn’t have anything to sell for our game, and they looked so good.” Liz felt her lips tremble. She didn’t want Mrs. Baker to yell at her. “I’m really sorry.”
“That’s OK,” Mrs. Baker said.
Liz looked up in surprise. Mrs. Baker didn’t even seem angry.
“We don’t eat many tangerines anyway. You can have as many as you want, as long as you ask first.” Mrs. Baker smiled at the girls.
“Thanks, Mrs. Baker!” Liz declared.
She put her arm around Abby as they walked home. “You know what, Abby? You’re a great little sister.” Liz felt good for telling the truth and giving Mrs. Baker walnuts to make up for the tangerines. She looked forward to eating more delicious tangerines from the Bakers’ tree. After asking first, of course.

It seemed everyone wanted a summer home in the humid coastal zone of Ilo, Peru, so my missionary companion and I always had plenty of doors to knock. Much of our door contacting occurred within rows of identical three-story, 12-apartment buildings. It was easy to get lost.
One night we planned to visit a woman we had met. We got her floor and apartment number right, but we mistakenly went to the apartment complex one over from hers. We knocked, and when a young man opened the door, we realized we had gone to the wrong apartment.
But before we could explain our mistake, the young man said, “Ah, elders, good to see you. My grandma went to the store, but she should be back any minute. Come on in.”
With confused looks, we entered and sat on the couch. When the grandmother arrived a few minutes later, she was thrilled to see us.
Still confused, we asked how she knew the missionaries. She explained that they had taught her two years before, but when her schedule became too busy, they had stopped visiting.
The particular night we came, she was feeling worthless. The whole week had been hard for her. She was overworked and tired and felt that nothing she did really mattered. Then we showed up, brightened her day, and gave her a second chance at the purpose-giving gospel of Jesus Christ. Our unexpected visit was God’s sign to her that she mattered to Him.
We had gone to the wrong apartment, but we were exactly where we needed to be. Losing our way brought us to find this daughter of God again. Through our imperfection in navigating, God directed us to her.
After we left, we found the woman we had planned to visit. She didn’t even notice we were late. I think about what would have happened had we found the right apartment from the start.
Had we gone where we had planned, we would have missed a much-needed chance to share the Savior’s love. But God worked through our imperfection to point us where He needed us to tread. I’m grateful He let us become lost so that we could find the one who needed direction.

I was serving in the mission office of the El Salvador San Salvador Mission when the mission president transferred me to an area that had been closed for many years. The leaders of the branch there had not only prayed and fasted that missionaries would return, but they had also prepared for that day.
When I arrived, every family in the branch had friends who were ready to receive the missionaries. One member introduced us to a lady named Ana Oviedo, who sold fruit and homemade food on one of the busiest street corners in the city. While she was there selling food one Saturday morning, we asked if we could visit her at her home and share a message about Jesus Christ. She accepted.
When we arrived that night, Ana and her four children were waiting for us. We introduced ourselves and started teaching them. We felt inspired to teach about the blessings of keeping the Sabbath day holy. We also taught the family about tithing and the promises made by the prophet Malachi (see Malachi 3:10–12).
In response, Ana told us that she had already prepared to sell food the next day—Sunday—just as she always did. We then offered a prayer, asking Heavenly Father to bless this poor family, which needed the mother’s income.
The following day we were surprised to see her come to church with her children. We welcomed them and asked her what had happened with the food she had prepared to sell.
“Elders, I spent last night pondering God’s promises,” she said. “He will bless me.” Then she added, “Elders, where do I pay my tithing?”
We were moved by her show of faith, and we prayed that the Lord would answer our prayers for this family.
The next evening we went by her house again. She was crying tears of gratitude because God had blessed her so greatly that day. She said she had been selling food on that corner her whole life—Monday through Sunday, 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.—and that she always had leftover items that didn’t sell. But that Monday she had sold all of her food by 1:00 p.m.
Heavenly Father had answered our prayers. The Lord continued to bless Ana, and she no longer needed to sell food on the Sabbath. Her children were soon baptized, but Ana’s husband would not consent to her baptism. Nevertheless, she remained faithful to the gospel and attended church until the day she died.
I know Heavenly Father keeps His promises when we obey His commandments with all our heart.

“When my grandmother was about 13 years old, she was out in front of her small home in Georgia sweeping the porch. A couple of men came by and asked to talk to her parents. During that day those two men taught my grandmother and her family about Joseph Smith, the restored gospel, and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That night the missionaries were driven out of the city by some other people in the neighborhood. For 23 years my family had no contact with the Church, but when the elders were finally able to return, Grandma was baptized.”

When I was eight, my orthodontist informed me that I needed to get six teeth pulled to continue the process of getting braces. I was scared. No medication, in my mind, could cover the pain of getting my teeth pulled. My family prayed for me. Surprisingly, with anesthesia and medicine, all I felt was a slight jerk, and the teeth were out. I love the power of prayer. Prayer combats fear and doubt. It upholds faith. Prayer helps all the time, and especially during hard and difficult trials.