Gospel Story Finder

I had been so heavily drugged in the hospital that even though I knew why I was there, I hadn’t been able to focus on any one thought. But now I was off all medication. For the first few nights at Cal’s, I was afraid to go to sleep. I felt I had such a slight hold on life that I might not wake up in the morning. While lying awake at night, I would start to think about the horror of what had happened and about my injuries. I realized that I could have been killed or permanently damaged physically.
On those nights when I became frightened, I would turn to the Lord for help. Almost immediately, my mind would be filled with peace and with an awareness of the many blessings He had given me. A great calm would envelop me, and I would fall asleep. At such times I felt overwhelmed by Heavenly Father’s goodness and love.

In 1959 he left the University of Utah and went into private practice. There he was, thirty-five years old and with a family of six children, in training all those years after medical school, going deeper and deeper into debt in order to properly prepare himself for his chosen profession.
Nevertheless, he was called to the demanding work of a stake president. Prior to his setting apart, Brother Nelson had mentioned that one of the serious challenges facing him as a surgeon was the difficulty of aortic valve replacement. In the blessing, Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then of the Quorum of the Twelve, promised him that the quality of his work as a surgeon would increase so that he would have the time to serve as stake president without jeopardizing his patients. Elder Kimball himself was to benefit later from this blessing, for in 1972 the open-heart operation that Dr. Nelson performed on Spencer W. Kimball included aortic valve replacement.
The operation was performed on President Kimball the following year on April 12. It was flawless—thousands of intricate manipulations performed without error, according to a blessing he had received under the hands of President Harold B. Lee and President N. Eldon Tanner. Even more special to Dr. Nelson was an overpowering feeling that came upon him at the conclusion of the operation: “The Spirit told me that I had just operated on a man who would become president of the Church,” he said.

I’ll admit that it’s not always easy to hear what a prophet has to say. While serving in the Relief Society General Presidency, I attended a General Authority Training session held prior to general conference. During that meeting, the Apostle conducting the training did something unusual. Whenever someone used the words woman or man, he corrected them and told them to use the words mother or father instead.

At first, I didn’t think much about it, but as the meeting wore on and he repeatedly emphasized that women were mothers and men were fathers, I became painfully aware that I was the only non-parent in the room. By the end of the morning, I felt condemned.

When the training ended, I bolted out of the room so no one would see my tears. At first, I was just hurt; but then I began to seethe: “How could an Apostle disenfranchise an entire segment of members?”

I stewed about this for months—until I began to work on my upcoming talk for the General Relief Society Meeting. I pleaded for inspiration, but I got nothing! I had no ideas. Finally, I received a clear impression: that I should speak about motherhood. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I thought. But the impression was clear. So, I began to search the scriptures and teachings of prophets. I went to the temple again and again and pleaded for understanding. And guess what I learned? That the Apostle who had offended me was right. His approach was insensitive. But he had taught an eternal truth—that every woman has a divine endowment as a mother. That truth led me to prepare an address entitled “Are We Not all Mothers?” which is still quoted every Mother’s Day because it is filled with truth—truth I had to humble myself to learn.

I was 13 or 14 years old, living with my father and two of my older brothers. My oldest brother was living in a group home in Provo, Utah, and we were going to meet him at church. He was mentally disabled, and he was going to pass the sacrament that day. I was nervous. I was always nervous around the people in the group home. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know how to act. Arnol, my brother, was okay, because I grew up with him and he would make me laugh with his silly jokes. He always called me “dog eyes” because my eyes were brown and they looked like the eyes of our dog.
My dad was wearing his suit, and he looked very distinguished. We didn’t talk much in the car. It was a two-hour drive, and I think we were all a little nervous. We were all wondering how Arnol was going to handle this big responsibility.
The church was crowded, and we were sitting in the very back of the chapel in the overflow area. I could see Arnol sitting by the sacrament table. He kept looking around to see if he could spot us. He looked good. His hair was combed, his tie was on, and his jacket hid his stooped shoulders. I could tell he was nervous and hesitating, looking for reassuring nods from the other boys.
The boys stood up for the prayer, then took their trays and started down the aisles. Arnol tipped his tray as he shuffled along, but nothing fell off. He took it to the correct row, and he managed to pass it to the first person. People in the audience smiled at him and gave him encouraging nods. He was grinning. I could tell that he was pleased with himself. He was doing this all by himself. He was doing a good job. I heard a sigh of relief pass from my dad’s lips. Inwardly, I started to relax a little too. It was going to work out fine.
After the sacrament, the boys stood up to join their families. My dad stood up straight and tall in the back of the chapel so that Arnol could see him. Arnol looked around and saw Dad; then while half running down the aisle, he said, “Did you see me, Dad? Here I come, Dad; did you see me?”
I was embarrassed, and I could feel my face grow red. What would everyone think? But no one was frowning; they were smiling as they watched Arnol head towards his dad. And my dad stood tall and proud, ready to welcome his son after a job well done.
I think of this instance often. I reflect on the poise and pride in my dad’s stance and the love he felt for Arnol. Arnol accomplished what he was able to do. He would never be a football star or a great musician or an A student, but he could pass the sacrament and my dad was proud of that.
I think this must be similar to how our Heavenly Father is. He knows each of our capabilities and each of our limitations. He knows the burdens that we are called upon to bear. And whether we are physically disabled or have any other kind of disability, when we go to meet Him, He will greet us with love for accomplishing the things He knows we are capable of.

When I was 16, I participated in a student foreign-exchange program for a year. I went from my home in Ukraine to a small town in Arizona, USA, where I stayed with a Latter-day Saint family. I had never heard of Latter-day Saints before.
The exchange program didn’t allow the family to preach to me, and I wasn’t allowed to meet with the missionaries. But I chose to attend church with my host family and participate in all Church activities.
I felt the Spirit with that family, and I felt much love at church. At that time I didn’t know that what I was feeling was the Spirit, but my heart was touched.
When I returned to Ukraine, I missed that feeling very much. I remembered how my life was when I went to church and lived gospel teachings. I realized what was missing, but there was no church and no missionaries where I lived, so I thought I would never have that feeling again.
About four years later, however, some missionaries knocked on my door. I was so happy to see them. While they were out working, they had listened to the Spirit, which led them to my house. I’m so grateful they were obedient. I was baptized and confirmed soon afterward.
Since then I have been sealed in the Stockholm Sweden Temple to my husband, a returned missionary who is from Russia. And now there’s a temple in Kyiv. We plan to attend regularly.
The temple is the most amazing place on earth. It is a place where you can be close to Heavenly Father. I feel so grateful that in the temple we can receive one of the greatest gifts given to us by Heavenly Father: to be sealed as families for eternity.
I am grateful to the members of that Latter-day Saint family who helped me feel the Spirit, starting me on a journey that would lead me to a family of my own that is sealed together forever.

“I am 92. I was born in Germany. I am a Jew.”
So began John Fieldsend BEM at an invitation only meeting held in Manchester Central Library. The theme was ‘Fragility of Freedom’. Three members of Manchester Stake attended along with a mainly Jewish audience.
John Fieldsend and his brother enjoyed their early childhood until local children no longer wanted to play with them because they were ‘dirty jews’, no doubt resulting from the brainwashing of their parents. Later, as things in Germany became worse, his parents decided their children should go to England. They left on the kinder transport and were fostered in the north of England. They were never to see their parents again.
John Fieldsend attended university and then, to the surprise of the audience, told us that years later he had become a Church of England vicar!
At this time of universal strife and fragile freedom, we must ensure that our children learn from us not to judge people because of their colour, creed, or ethnicity, but to value all of our brothers and sisters – for all have something good to contribute if we take the time to get to know them.
Words that John Fieldsend said that made an impression on me were:
“Be honest in your own faith and live together.”
“You need a living faith.”
“History repeats itself. Nobody listens.”
“The best is getting better. The worst is getting worse.”
The evening concluded with kosher refreshments and an opportunity for friendly talks with those of other faiths.

One day on the way to work I saw two young men preaching the word of God in the street. They stopped me and asked if I wanted to know more about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At the time, I didn’t know where my family was headed. We had no spiritual compass to find our way.
I had been drinking alcohol that morning, so I don’t remember much of what the missionaries told me. But they gave me a Book of Mormon and a pamphlet about the Prophet Joseph Smith, along with their phone number. Later that day, I started reading. Something touched my soul when I read the Book of Mormon, and I was amazed how a 14-year-old boy could have such a great vision.
I was searching for truth, so I started meeting with the missionaries. After taking most of the lessons, I knew I needed to get baptized. But as the day of my baptism approached, we held a lesson that was hard for me to hear. That lesson was on the Word of Wisdom.
That lesson was hard for me because I drank a lot. My work environment was tough. Everyone I worked with drank, and so I did too. I would often go out drinking after work and come home late at night.
But the missionaries did a great job. I still love them for it. They taught me that God wants us to be strong and that He gave us the Word of Wisdom to bless us. Obeying this law was really hard for me, but slowly, I started to keep it. I remember calling the missionaries every day, updating them on my progress, and telling them that I did not drink that day. They were so happy with my progress.
With their help, I got baptized and entered the fold of Jesus Christ. I felt the Spirit that beautiful day! But I was alone when I joined the Church. I wanted my family to be with me.
When I talked to my wife, Clirime, about the Church, she would not listen at first. Her grandfather belonged to a different religion, and she wondered why The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had even come to Albania. I knew that the only way I could bring her into the gospel was through my example. Through our actions, people can see who we really are.
Clirime noticed changes in me as I gave up alcohol and started coming home early from work. Because of the changes I was making, she started to feel the Spirt of God as I told her about the Church. I cannot describe the happy feeling I had when she told me that one day she would also get baptized. Soon she began taking the missionary lessons, which I helped the missionaries teach. I was especially happy when she set a date for her baptism, six months after I was baptized.
With her baptism, and the baptism of our two children when they each turned eight, I felt that we could become an eternal family. But baptism was just the beginning. To prepare to go to the temple, we knew that we had to follow God to the end of our lives, keeping the commandments, going to church, partaking of the sacrament, serving in callings, reading the scriptures, and learning more about covenants and the plan of salvation.
The day we were sealed as a family in the Frankfurt Germany Temple was another beautiful day. In the temple, I came to understand more about the plan of happiness our God has for us, and I felt His love.
I still remember the promises Clirime and I made in the temple. Whenever something goes wrong or we are having a hard time, my mind goes back to those promises.
As a family we try to live in harmony with each other because that is what we felt in the temple. Every time I think of the temple, I feel happy and blessed. I know that God is real and that He loves us and wants us to be happy.

Monday, November 1
Dear Vera,
Yes, Nigeria is far away from where you live, but we are so glad we’re here. The people are so warm and loving, and Heavenly Father has blessed us so much.
On Sunday, four children were confirmed. We met in a tiny chapel with a concrete floor, and the Spirit was so strong. It was beautiful!
Love,Elder and Sister Wall
P.S. We love the Primary children so much that we want to give them a special Christmas present. Do you have any ideas?
Monday, November 22
Dear Elder and Sister Wall, (See? I remembered!)
I’ve got a great Christmas present idea! And I’ve even talked to Mom and the Primary president about it. But I’m not going to tell you what it is because I know how much you like surprises. (Remember the surprise birthday party Mom gave you, Grandma? You were so funny!)
I will give you a hint. It starts with the letter P, and we’ll be sending it in a couple of weeks.
Love,Vera
P.S. Can you guess what it is?
Friday, December 3
Dear Vera,
What could it be? Grandpa and I have been thinking about what you might be sending for the Primary children. We can hardly wait to find out!
There are lots of things that start with P in Africa—like pigs, parrots, and potholes! But I don’t think that’s the surprise you’re talking about.
Love,Sister Wall
Monday, December 13
Dear Vera,
Dalu and Merry Christmas! Dalu means “thank you” in Igbo (a language spoken in Nigeria). P stands for “pictures,” doesn’t it?
All the children here in our Primary liked the Christmas pictures you and your friends drew for them at the Primary activity.
We wish you could have seen them! All the children were smiling and laughing and saying how wonderful it was to hear from faraway Primary friends who love Jesus just like they do.
Thanks so much for your Christmas present. It was perfect! (That starts with P too!)
Love,Elder and Sister Wall
P.S. The Nigerian Primary children like to send surprises too!
Friday, December 31
Dear Elder and Sister Wall,
Please tell the Primary children in Nigeria dalu for their pictures! All the kids in my Primary liked them! We especially enjoyed the pictures with the palm trees, fans, and baskets.
Love,Vera
P.S. Even though I still miss you, ever since we sent you the special present for your Primary children, Nigeria doesn’t seem far away at all!

“I want to go to school like Christopher does,” grumbled Sarah as she watched the school bus pull away from the curb.
“You can go to school when you are five,” her mom assured her. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
“Carry me,” Sarah demanded.
“I can’t, I’m carrying Adam,” Mom answered. “I’m not strong enough to carry both of you. I can hold your hand if you’d like.”
Sarah took hold of the hand that Mother offered her. “But I wanted you to carry me,” she complained as they walked back into the house.
Sarah climbed up onto the couch. “It’s no fun being three,” she muttered. “Three-year-olds don’t get to do anything.”
Adam had fallen asleep, so Mom carefully placed him in the playpen. Then she sat next to Sarah, lifting the unhappy girl onto her lap. “Christopher goes to kindergarten—that’s what five-year-olds do,” Mom said. “Adam’s taking a nap—that’s what babies do. Let’s think of some things that three-year-olds do.”
“Like what?” Sarah demanded.
“Well, you can play with your modeling clay, or you can have a doll party, or I can push you in the swing, or you can do something else that you choose. What do you think?”
Sarah’s face brightened. “I want to paint, then have a fun party for my dolls, and then make cookies.”
Mom smiled, glad to see Sarah returning to her happy self. “All right,” Mom said, “let’s get you started.” She stood up and lifted Sarah high in the air before putting her down.
Sarah giggled. “And then I want to build a house out of my building blocks. Then I want to swing. Then I want to play with my clay. Then—”
“Slow down!” Mom laughed. “There are a lot of things that three-year-olds can do, but I don’t think that you can do them all today.”
“Maybe not, but I can try!”
Mom got out paper and paints and filled a cup with water for Sarah to dip her paintbrush into. “I know one more thing that three-year-olds get to do,” Mom said as she helped Sarah into her booster seat.
“What?” Sarah asked.
“When we go to church, you go to the nursery. But in January, all the children in the nursery who have turned three will go to Primary.”
“And I’ll go to class with Christopher?”
“Well, you’ll be in different classes, but you’ll go to Sharing Time together,” Mom explained. “And I think that you’ll enjoy Primary. It’s one of the best things about being three.”
Sarah carefully dabbed eyelashes on the big happy face that she had painted. “This is how I’m going to look when I go to Primary,” she said. “I love being three.”

When President Soares asked Luan what he would like to do when he left the hospital, Luan said he would like to perform vicarious baptisms in the Recife Brazil Temple. After Luan left the hospital, President Soares and Bishop Farias helped him fulfill this desire. Luan performed as many baptisms as his strength would allow. At the end of his day at the temple, he was beaming with happiness that he could do something for others, even though he was in great pain himself.

Sister Whang’s dream of serving began much earlier, when she was a young girl in Japanese-occupied Korea. A devout Presbyterian, Whang Keun-Ok worked on a farm by day, and by night prayed that she might be able to go to school so that she could work for God. She hoped to study medicine, because her people were dying from lack of proper health care. But because of the subordinate role women occupied in Korean society, this seemed an impossible goal.
In time, however, her prayers were answered. She was able to attend junior high school in Jeryung and in Seoul, working at the same time so she could pay her tuition. She studied hard and was an honor student. After graduation, she enrolled in nursing school.
But life was difficult in her country. Poverty was widespread, and the Korean people were not allowed to speak their own language or practice their cultural customs. Sister Whang herself was expelled from school for not worshipping the Japanese emperor. Because of such persecution, Whang Keun-Ok and several friends made an oath to dedicate their lives to making sure others wouldn’t have to endure the same struggles. Later, after Korea won its independence, they converted that oath to caring for those who had suffered in the wars that ravaged Korea—particularly the children.

After Peter M. Johnson, the son of a facility supervisor and taxi driver, had accepted a basketball scholarship at Brigham Young University–Hawaii, he found himself standing before an institute teacher.
“You will [either] join the Church right away, or it will take you a while,” the teacher predicted.
The teacher was correct. More than a year later, Peter “fasted and prayed and received an answer.” He was baptized on August 16, 1986.

Sometimes, being a good person feels like a lot of work.
I used to think of being Christlike as a hefty list of things I had to do and be. When I tried to set goals, I’d get overwhelmed thinking about how far I was from where I should be. I felt like I was failing in so many ways I didn’t know where to start—like when your room is so messy that you don’t know what to clean up first.
During a time when I felt extra inadequate, a scripture kept coming to my mind:
“Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matthew 22:37–39).
I realized that I’d been more focused on “doing” the gospel than becoming like the Savior. Somehow, with so many distractions, the love got lost along the way. But wasn’t love supposed to be the point? During His ministry, Jesus Christ taught the people a higher and holier law to love God with their whole hearts and to love others as they love themselves. Whenever I felt discouraged, I’d remember Jesus’s words and think, “As long as I make choices out of love for God and others, I’ll be on the right path.”
I decided to set a simple goal: “Do one thing each day to love God, others, and myself.”
I wrote it on the first page of a new journal. I’ve never been a great journal-keeper, but I thought it would be important to record what I was doing.
The first day was a fast Sunday. Before I went to bed, I wrote down what I’d done to work on my goal.
I wrote that I showed love for God by going to church and staying for both hours, even though I didn’t feel like it. I bore my testimony in sacrament meeting. And when I read my scriptures, I wrote down my thoughts for a more meaningful and focused study.
I wrote that I loved others by joining a family call with my parents even though I was tired. I fasted for a friend who I knew was struggling and sent her an encouraging message. I spent some time with my brother.
I loved myself by taking a nap and allowing myself to relax. And I went to bed earlier than usual so I could be more rested for work the next day.
None of these things were big, but when I looked over what I’d written, I felt peaceful. My day had been full of love, and that’s what Heavenly Father wanted for me.
All week I remembered my goal and wrote how I showed love. I went to the temple. I listened to people vent about their problems. I said kind things to others. I did things that made me happy. I took better care of myself. I made more space for the people in my life. I took time to reflect and connect with God.
After just a few days, I was amazed by the difference. With showing Christlike love as my goal, things that usually felt like a chore became expressions of love for God, others, and myself. I started looking for new opportunities to express love, whether it was getting a glass of water for my sister, making my bed, or pausing to say a prayer of gratitude.
I felt like I was seeing the world with new eyes, and as I looked for ways to love, I also noticed the love that was all around me every day. I added a new section to my journal entries: “How I’ve seen God’s love today.” I wrote down the thoughtful things people did for me and the kind words they offered. I wrote down nice things I saw people doing for others. I wrote down the small, tender mercies from God I noticed each day. I wrote down all the ways I felt uplifted, all the things that gave me hope.
Sister Susan H. Porter, Primary General President, taught: “When you know and understand how completely you are loved as a child of God, it changes everything. It changes the way you feel about yourself when you make mistakes. It changes how you feel when difficult things happen. It changes your view of God’s commandments. It changes your view of others and of your capacity to make a difference.”1
As I continued with my goal, I discovered how true this was. I could feel my whole heart changing, and I understood the power of God’s love better than I ever had.
After a month, I wrote this in my journal:
“I feel hopeful instead of stressed. I’m aware of my weaknesses, but I feel that as long as I keep inclining my heart to God, things will be OK, even if I’m never able to fix the weak and broken parts of myself. My heart is the thing that matters most, and a heart that loves God and others and tries to serve and uplift is a good heart.”
I wish I could say I’ve never missed a day in my journal. The truth is, I fall out of the habit sometimes, even for months at a time. But whenever I start again, I can feel the difference. I open my eyes once more to see the Savior’s love all around me—and all the ways I can add to it.
I’ve come to better understand the truth that “charity never faileth” (Moroni 7:46) because when I felt like I was failing, Jesus Christ’s love is what lifted me back up. When I feel the Savior’s love, I want to reflect it back into the world, and I know that as I strive to do this, He will bless me with a better, stronger heart—one that can love as He does.

In 1975 Janelle Griffin was a sophomore at Woods Cross High School in Bountiful, Utah. An assigned paper on the population explosion started a chain of events that eventually led to a sound filmstrip called “Very Much Alive.”

Janelle and her father, Dr. Glen Griffin, now members of the Val Verda 10th Ward (Bountiful Utah Val Verda Stake), went through the family photos and selected some good slides. These were matched with an anti-abortion story-script that Janelle and her father wrote. The resulting slide presentation, emphasizing the sanctity of human life, was used in the Career Day event at school by Dr. Griffin, a nationally-known pediatrician and author.

The slide presentation was enthusiastically applauded by students and teachers. Refinements and revisions followed. A sound track was recorded on cassette tape. Some who saw the presentation suggested that every LDS youth should see “Very Much Alive.”

After they had seen it, the Presiding Bishopric agreed. Many revisions and refinements followed, and then followed distribution in 17 languages to all the Church. As word got around, copies were purchased by other churches and by anti-abortion groups.

Now another edition of “Very Much Alive” has been prepared. Entitled “Very Much Alive—Worldwide Edition,” this filmstrip contains no mention of religion and is being used in many schools as part of their approved curriculum libraries.

Countless lives have been touched and others will yet be touched for good because of a filmstrip that had its beginning in a homework assignment to a Latter-day Saint girl in Bountiful.

Babies’ lives have been spared. Unwed parents have been influenced to make wise choices. Adoptive parents have rejoiced to have infants placed in their homes.

One brother who had once been a prisoner of war had to withdraw money from his savings account—money which had been set aside for another special purpose. Then he learned of a pension for Canadian prisoners of war and found that he qualified. In fact, he was awarded the pension retroactively, and the cumulative amount was slightly in excess of the amount he had withdrawn to pay his building assessment.

Everybody knows that pine trees come from plain old nuts. And when the Munns family decided to grow pine trees to pay for their missions, some people thought the Munnses were just that—nuts.
To begin with, April and Ranier Munns of Longwood, Florida, have 13 children. That’s pretty unusual by many people’s standards. Then there was the matter of the big pine tree nursery they started in their backyard. That’s not exactly conventional, either. But then, the Munnses have never been that concerned about what’s conventional.
What April and Ranier were concerned about was the fact that theirs was a family with great potential for missionary service. They also knew that they could end up with three or four sons on a mission at one time. So during one family meeting, they discussed the possibility of setting up a tree nursery in the three-and-a-half-acre vacant pasture behind the house. It seemed an ideal solution, since they had three or four years to earn the needed money.
Once they decided on a project, things just started to happen. From a nursery in Sanford that was going out of business they bought, for 50 cents apiece, about 400 slash pines planted in one-gallon buckets. The trees were small, only 12–18 inches tall, but the Munnses knew that with hard work and care, the potential was there.
Then the family purchased about 5,000 bare root seedlings from the Florida Department of Forestry and bought used three-gallon buckets to plant them in. “We had a family night and got the assembly line started,” Leah says.
“One person put dirt in the bucket,” Jacob continues, “one person used the planter Grandad made for us to make a hole in the dirt, and another put the seedling in and passed it to the next person who added more dirt and watered the tree.” Then the responsibilities of weeding, fertilizing, and watering the seedlings were assigned and divided among the family members. “All of us worked,” Daniel recalls.
Ryan remembers, “My friends thought it was a little bit bizarre that we worked so hard to go on a mission instead of applying the money to college or using it for a car. We’d work in the trees in the mornings and get green stains on our hands that we couldn’t get out before class. I remember somebody asking me if I had a disease because of the green stuff on my hands.”
Eventually they had 6,000 slash pines and 700 oak trees. Jacob reports, “Raising the trees was not easy. Dad would wake us up before school to work an hour before we got ready for classes. And in the afternoons and Saturdays, when the rest of my friends were bowling, fishing, camping or going to movies, parties, and football games, we were picking weeds.”
Daniel says, “Our friends called our house ‘The Plantation,’ and those who came to stay overnight or for weekends knew we had to get up early on Saturday mornings. But they didn’t mind. Most of them didn’t have chores at their own homes, so they had fun riding the tractor around the nursery, hauling dirt, and filling buckets. They’d move trees and work along with us.
“Rain or shine, we’d always be down there. We liked working in the rain best because then you didn’t perspire and the weeds were easier to pull. Sometimes when we picked the weeds out of the pots, we’d find surprises. Like huge piles of ants—we’d be working fast and not even looking at our hands and wouldn’t realize until the ants started biting that we were in a fire ant bed. We occasionally found snakes and spiders. Once we caught a six-foot albino rat snake.”
An opportunity arose for them to sell the trees when they were three to four feet high for seven or eight dollars apiece. But the family decided to continue with the nursery as the boys were not yet old enough for missions. It was at this time that all 6,000 trees were transplanted into 15-gallon containers. That meant handling each tree, one by one, getting the dirt for them, and changing the sprinkler system. In the following two years, the trees grew from four feet tall to between eight and twelve feet tall.
Despite the hard work, the family recalls the Mission Pines Nursery as a positive experience, and they laugh as they recall the difficult times.
Collin tells how “one morning Dad said we all had to get up because 75 percent of the trees were on the ground. Some of the rain and winds from Hurricane Andrew had come through during the night. Luckily, slash pines just bend with the wind.”
But there was as much fun as work. Sometimes they’d take a break from the heat by jumping into the pool or by spraying each other with the hose. And there was still time for high school sports, Scouting, and the boys’ favorite activity of all—fishing. In fact, it was during this time that Collin caught a 250-pound blue marlin.
Finally, the spring arrived when the family contacted potential buyers. Many trees went to Atlanta, Georgia, in preparation for the 1996 Summer Olympics and to the Miami area for reconstruction after Hurricane Andrew. Others were sold to Disneyworld or to the state of Florida. Ranier says, “We had prayed about the trees and taken good care of them. The largest landscaping nursery in Florida, which never bought from other nurseries, came down and looked at our trees. It was the first time they bought directly from another nursery and put their labels on them.”
The Lord answered their prayers. The Munnses were able to sell, not only the trees, but the mats, the old three-gallon buckets, the stakes, and the bamboo. The only thing left in the pasture was the large patch of brown grass where the trees used to stand.

During the second match of his senior season, middle blocker Mark Fletcher of Desert Vista High School in Phoenix, Arizona, leaped high into the air, just as he had in so many volleyball games before. But this time when he landed, something went horribly wrong.
“You could hear the bone snap,” he recalls. “There was no question my leg was broken.” He had suffered a near compound fracture of the tibia and shattered the fibula in his leg. The next two weeks were filled with heartache, both in the hospital and then recovering at home. “I kept thinking about the years of practice and training, the hopes for a winning season,” he says. “It was tough.”
His father read two scriptures to him, Doctrine & Covenants 121:7 and 122:7, and told him that this would give him experience and be for his good. Mark also remembered reading in 2 Nephi 2:11 that there must be opposition in all things. “I figured something good could come out of this, so I might as well figure out what it was.” The answer was to focus on helping others rather than wondering why he had been hurt himself.
Coach Ryan Tolman, who is also a Latter-day Saint, kept Mark practicing with the team daily and assigned him to work with younger players, who could benefit from his experience. Call it service of a different kind. Team members adjusted by playing in different positions; Mark adjusted by offering encouragement. Even though the season didn’t turn out as great as everyone had hoped, Desert Vista still qualified for the playoffs.
As the last home match approached, Coach Tolman asked Mark to serve the first serve. With a pin in his leg but strong enough to participate, Mark practiced over and over. “I didn’t want to just hit it into the net,” he explains. “I was praying the whole time.”
When the game began, he limped to the line and then hit the ball so precisely the other team couldn’t return it. The coach left him in. Mark couldn’t move around the court, so his teammates had to cover balls that came his way. With the score 9-0, Mark finally lost service and left to a standing ovation. He limped to the bench and continued to cheer for his team.
Three weeks later, Desert Vista High School won the state championship, the lowest-seeded team ever to do so. In the official photo, teammates asked Mark to hold the trophy. Then at the annual awards ceremony, the coach announced a new award to be given each year in Mark’s honor: the Teammate Award, presented to the player who exemplifies courage, dedication, and team spirit.
Today, Mark is serving full-time in the Brazil Manaus Mission. “What I learned in volleyball was that the scriptures are true,” he concludes. “Without misery, you don’t know happiness. So if life hands you something bitter, look for a way to make it sweet.”
Mark Fletcher and his brother, Matt, were featured in the article “Brothers” in the May 2007 New Era.

Madeline, her clothes under her arms, ran down the stairs and into the kitchen where her mother was preparing breakfast. Mother looked up to say good morning to her little girl, but when she saw how pale and breathless Madeline was, she asked, “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

“No,” answered Madeline, but at the moment she could say no more. She sank down onto a stool near the fireplace and stared into the flame. She wondered how she could ever put into words the strange dream she had just had, and what her mother would think if she could.

It had seemed in her dream that she was a young lady sitting on a small strip of meadow close to the vineyard and that as she watched to make sure the goats didn’t tramp on the vines and eat them, she glanced down at a Sunday School book in her lap. As she looked up again, she was startled to see three strange men.

At the remembrance, Madeline shivered in fright, just as she had shivered in her dream. But almost at once there came the feeling of peace that had flooded over her when one of the men said, “Don’t be frightened. We have come from a place far from here to tell you about the true and everlasting gospel.”

Then the men told her that an angel had directed a boy to find an important book of gold hidden in the earth. They said that someday she, Madeline, would be able to read this book, and then, because of it, she would gladly leave her home, cross the great ocean, and go to America to live.

In the warm sweet-smelling kitchen Madeline relived her dream. It seemed so real to her that she turned pale again and began to tremble. Father came in from milking the goats, and asked, just as her mother had done, “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

Madeline could only shake her head. Father gently stooped down beside her, picked up a stocking, and without another word began to help her dress. Afterward he lifted her onto his lap and quietly asked, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Madeline nodded. It was hard to get the words started, but then they seemed to tumble over each other in their eagerness to be spoken. Mother left her preparations for their simple breakfast of figs, potatoes, and goats milk so she could hear every amazing detail of the dream. Father listened intently, occasionally nodding his head as if he understood more than was being said.

Long after everyone else was asleep that night, Madeline could hear the murmur of her parents’ voices. The last thing she remembered before she went to sleep was hearing her mother insist, “But we already have the true gospel, so there couldn’t be any real meaning to that story Madeline told us.”

Madeline did not hear Father’s answer, but occasionally as the years went by, he would question her concerning her dream. Even though some of the details became vague to her, they never did to him.

Shortly afterward, on a Saturday afternoon, Madeline’s father went home early from his work of building a chimney for a neighbor. He told his family that three strangers were coming to bring an important message. “I must dress in my best clothes and go welcome them,” he said.

He found the men he was looking for on Sunday morning and invited them to go home with him. As they walked up over the winding paths and through the dangerously narrow mountain passes, Madeline’s father told them of the dream his daughter had had many years before.

When they reached his small rock home, they found Madeline sitting on a little strip of meadow close to the vineyard. She looked up from the Sunday School book she was reading into the faces of three men. They told her they had come to give her people the message contained in a wonderful book of gold that had been taken out of the earth, and said that she could now read this book.

That evening Madeline’s neighbors came to meet the strangers and hear their message. Some of the men found it so unusual and exciting that they stayed up all night to learn more about the newly revealed truths that had been brought to them by these missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Some baptisms were held in October 1850. Twenty families eventually accepted the gospel, and as Madeline’s dream became a reality, the Vaudois area truly became “A Light Shining in Darkness.”

When a young man President Monson came home on leave from the Navy to see his beloved Frances only to find she was out on a date with another suitor. He finally won her heart and the two got married. World War II ended but there were rumblings that war in Korea was eminent and he was in the Naval Reserve. He did not want to go to war as an enlisted man; so, he applied for Officer Candidate School and was accepted. At about the same time he was called to serve in the Bishopric of his ward, the ward in which he grew up. In a quandary about what to do since the Reserve meetings were on the same night as Bishopric meetings and he would be missing many Sunday services as well, he went to his former stake president Harold B. Lee, then an apostle and eventually president of the Church, and asked for his advice. Tom trusted that Elder Lee would help him sort out the problem.
As he put his letter of acceptance before Elder Lee and explained his situation, this wise apostle sat back in his chair and took a long look at the earnest young man before him. “Tom,” he said, “I want you to write back to the Navy and decline the invitation to attend Officer’s Candidate School. Then I want you to write to the headquarters of your Naval Reserve unit in San Francisco and ask to be released from the rest of your service obligation.”
Tom was stunned.
President Lee then looked at him with clear, penetrating eyes and said, “The military is not for you. The Lord has other plans.” (And what were those plans? To serve in the highest councils of the church and some day become the prophet. Tom didn’t know that just like we do not know what is ahead.)
President Monson remembers thinking, “If he turned down the Officer’s Candidate School he would serve as an enlisted man if the country went to war. And, if he asked to be released from the Naval Reserve they would refuse; they didn’t do that especially with a war on the horizon. That might even call him up to service for even asking.”
But Tom trusted the Lord was speaking to him through Elder Lee and he went home and wrote the two letters. He did not attend Officer Candidate Training and to his great surprise, he miraculously was released from the Naval Reserve. Just a few weeks later, the nation went to war.
President Monson speaks from experience when he says, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”[v]

Arms pumping hard, Mark and Brian Chapell race up the hillside on a concrete stairway. Their long legs devour two and three steps at a time. Neckties flap as they struggle for the lead, competing as only brothers can. Two hundred steps to go. One hundred. Fifty. With a final lunge, they crash against the missionaries’ door in a dead heat.
A few minutes later they’re walking up and down the streets of Welch, West Virginia, with the full-time missionaries, sharing the light at the center of their lives.