Gospel Story Finder

The fickle wind can carry balloonists into some truly quixotic adventures. They flew over Tony’s house one day, and just then the wind died, so they hung there for a while. The milkman came by on his route and looked up and said, “Those guys must be insane!” “That’s my husband,” Sister Seymour replied. Tony had his kids come out, and he talked to them from the balloon, reminding them to brush their teeth. “They’re pretty obedient when you talk to them from the sky,” he says. His little daughter Amy thought quietly about it all day and finally asked, “Mommy, did Daddy die and go to heaven?”

Training to be a helicopter pilot isn’t an opportunity that most people get. But when Pierre O., 24, decided to enlist in the French Army, he got just that. Now in his second year of the four-year training, Pierre is doing his best to live as an example of the believers, despite his environment.
Stationed about an hour and a half outside of Bordeaux, in southwestern France, Pierre is far from his friends, family, and hometown of Rennes. The nearest meetinghouse is an hour away, meaning that he doesn’t get to interact much with members during the week. “It’s not easy to be a member of the Church in the army,” Pierre says, “because there are a lot of temptations and it’s really just two opposite worlds. You’re judged a lot in the army not based on what you do but on who you are.” Pierre wants those around him to see that he doesn’t drink alcohol, smoke, view pornography, or party—commonplace activities in the army—because of who he is: a member of the Church. While he struggles to earn the respect of those around him, prayer and scripture study help keep his testimony strong. “I try to not go to sleep without having read my scriptures first,” he explains, “and I try to pray whenever I can.”
“Reading the scriptures and praying helped me a lot during all of my schooling to know that God exists, that He is there—without really understanding the rest of the gospel,” Pierre explains. “I just knew that God was there, and so that helped me to stay on the right path.”
That foundation of scripture study sustained Pierre throughout all his schooling and even now through his army training. Before enlisting, Pierre served a mission in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, where his testimony and understanding of the gospel were solidified.
“The scriptures are one of the most tangible ways Heavenly Father answers us,” he says.
Through his daily prayer and scripture study, Pierre is able not only to receive inspiration but also to be an example to those in his army unit. While he and his classmates may not have much in common besides their national pride, Pierre knows that by following the teachings of the scriptures, he will be someone they can respect because of and not in spite of his beliefs.

Two days before the reception Grandpa and I were sitting in my bedroom drinking apple juice and club soda. Grandpa told me again about the day he married Great-grandma Marie, the civil ceremony in Fremont, and then, the train ride to Salt Lake City.
“Ted and Katie can fly to Salt Lake and get married tomorrow. But it took us three days by train,” Grandpa explained. “So we were married before, to make the trip respectable. It was an expensive marriage for me, but it was worth it.” He smiled at me. “The right things are difficult sometimes, but they’re always worth it.”

Clipper was a beautiful sorrel. He was half thoroughbred and a well-trained cow pony. When we turned him loose in the field after a hard day’s ride, he would kick up his heels and run and buck just like a frisky colt. One day I was trying to drive our cow home but to no avail; so I roped her, wrapping the rope around the horn of my saddle. Just as she came to the end of the rope, the cinch on my saddle broke, and both the saddle and I ended up on the ground under Clipper. He had been running hard and was excited, yet he stopped instantly and did not move a muscle until I was out of danger.

The day after the baptism of Veswengal Gharti Chhetri (known as G. C.), a political group in Nepal called a bund (strike). This meant that no vehicles were allowed on the roads. But G. C., who lives a great distance from where the branch meets, knew people were counting on him to be at church to be confirmed. He walked 2 1/2 hours one way on roads that, empty of the crushing traffic, were now crowded with people and wandering animals.
He first learned of the Church at the school where he teaches when he overheard a young Latter-day Saint teacher discussing the gospel with the school’s principal. He quickly approached Ramesh Shrestha and began asking questions. Now, age 21 and a member of the Church for only a few months, he has been called as Young Men president. G. C. says, “The Church was something more than I expected.” He loves the concepts of eternal marriage, agency, the Word of Wisdom, and the plan of salvation. G. C.’s talents are the warmth of his personality and his great love of people, which make him a natural for his second calling as a branch missionary. When asked why he likes to teach the gospel, he says, “It is not good to have something so delicious and not share it.”

And in all they do, there is love—love both expressed and self-evident. “I love my family a lot,” Lou says, “and I know they love me too. They’ve shown me many times that they do. My daddy proved it four times in particular. Those were the four times when I fell into the water before I knew how to swim. Daddy came in after me every time—shoes and all.

“Being sealed in the temple makes me feel like I have an insurance policy on our love. If anything happens to one of us, I’ll still have my family.”

Tita was born 1 April 1958 to Milton Henriques da Paixao and Walstir Queiroz da Paixao. His father was Catholic and, before her marriage, his mother was active in the Methodist church. It was through one of his mother’s brothers, Walter Guedes de Quieroz (former Brazil Porto Alegre Mission president) that the family was introduced to the Church. Eleven-year-old Tita was baptized in 1969 together with his mother and two brothers.

His interest in sports found its outlet in soccer and he participated in Church and school tournaments. His activity with a soccer little league brought him to the attention of the “Flamengo” club and he signed with the Rio de Janeiro-based team. He was drafted to play for the national team in 1979.

A favorite of the fans, Tita’s ability on and off the field has earned him favorable press coverage. But Tita has used his fame not to promote himself but his religion. For example, he used the publicity surrounding his recent marriage in the Sao Paulo Temple to explain that he and his wife-to-be had to live specific standards to be worthy to be married in the temple and enter into an eternal covenant. Among the standards, he told the press, were the principles of the Word of Wisdom.

Tita, a member of the Tijunca Ward, Rio de Janeiro Andarai Stake, said that he and his wife want to be worthy of the eternal covenants they have made. His other goals include living the commandments and being a good example to those with whom he comes in contact, taking advantage of missionary opportunities, and harmonizing his professional life with the standards of the Church.

Kelly wanted another piece. She knew that it was wrong. She knew that she had promised not to take any. But butter toffee was her favorite candy, and since it was too expensive for her allowance and too hard for her to make by herself, she just couldn’t think of another way to get any more.
She watched her sister, Sondra, back out of the driveway and head down the street. Sondra wouldn’t be back from her job until late.
Kelly shut out of her mind everything but the heavenly taste of butter toffee. Stealthily she opened her bedroom door, peered down the hall, then slipped quickly across the hall and into her sister’s room. Sondra had told Kelly that she was going to trust her to keep her promise to not take any more candy. But quickly, and as quietly as she could, Kelly opened Sondra’s drawer and lifted up the pile of sweaters. There it was, the pretty gold box with elegant, raised black letters: “Maxworth’s Famous Butter Toffee.” Kelly lifted the lid. The smell overwhelmed her, making her mouth water.
I’ll just take one piece, she told herself, choosing the biggest piece that she could find, then rearranging the others to hide the empty spot. Putting everything back as she had found it, Kelly tiptoed to her room and shut the door.
Sighing contentedly, Kelly settled onto her bed, her legs folded under her. She bit off a piece of the rich candy and savored it, her eyes closed. It tasted even better than she remembered. She ate it slowly to make it last as long as possible.
“Kelly, hurry down, dear. It’s time to go to the church,” Mother called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh no,” Kelly whispered. She had forgotten her baptismal interview. Luckily she was already wearing a blouse and skirt, so she wouldn’t have to change. She shoved the rest of the toffee into her mouth and chewed fast.
“Kelly, did you hear me?” her mother called again, starting up the stairs.
Swallowing hard, Kelly cleared her throat and yelled, “OK, Mom. I’m coming.” Without thinking, she licked off her fingers, then wiped them on her blouse. She jumped off the bed, slipped on her sandals, and grabbed her hairbrush.
“Oh no,” she moaned, looking at herself in the mirror. Chocolate ringed her mouth and had smeared her blouse. She pulled off the blouse, wadded it up, and stuffed it under her pillow. Then she washed her face, grabbed a clean blouse and put it on, and raced downstairs and outside, where Mom sat waiting in the station wagon.
Kelly slid in beside Mom and closed the door. Mom smiled and reached over to pat her shoulder.
“I’m proud of you, Kelly,” she said. “It’s a very special thing to be baptized.”
Kelly nodded and smiled back, but her face felt stiff and awkward.
Bishop Barton shook their hands warmly and invited Kelly into his office. “This is an important occasion, young lady,” he said, sitting down at his desk across from Kelly.
Kelly ran her tongue across her teeth before answering, “Yes, sir.”
Bishop Barton began asking her questions about faith and repentance and about what baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost meant. Kelly had practiced the answers with Dad, so she answered every one correctly.
“Very good,” said Bishop Barton. “Now that you’re eight, Kelly, Heavenly Father is trusting you to be able to make and keep promises. Sometimes it will be hard. That is when we find out how much we really want to be righteous. The promises that you make when you are baptized are sacred. It is important that you take them seriously. Kelly, are you determined to keep those promises all your life?”
“Oh yes,” said Kelly. “How could anyone make a promise to Heavenly Father and not keep it?”
“Good,” said Bishop Barton, and he signed her baptismal recommend. “It is very important to prepare yourself for baptism by being as righteous as you can. If there is anything that you have done wrong, try to make it right before you are baptized so that you will be prepared to receive the Holy Ghost for your friend and guide.”
As they were leaving, Bishop Barton put his arm across her shoulders. “Remember, Kelly,” he said, looking right into her eyes, “being honest is a very important part of keeping your baptismal promises.” He smiled and squeezed her. “See you on Saturday—all in white!”
Mom chattered happily all the way home, but Kelly didn’t say much. She was already thinking about butter toffee and the fact that she hadn’t really been able to enjoy the piece that she’d eaten before. Telling her mother that she wanted to read by herself before bedtime, she took one more piece of Sondra’s candy. That piece was so good that she had two more. Then she remembered her blouse. She pulled it out and locked herself in the bathroom with it.
Now, how does Mom do this? she wondered. She put hot water into the sink, wet her blouse, and began rubbing the bar of soap across the stains. Then she scrubbed. A lot of lather bubbled up, covering the stains. She rinsed it off, but the chocolate was still there. For a long time Kelly scrubbed. Her arms ached and her fingers felt raw, but the chocolate still showed plainly.
“I give up!” she flung the sopping shirt into the sink. Water dripped down the cabinet, puddles of soapy water spotted the floor, and Kelly was soaked all down the front. What’ll I do? she wailed silently.
“Hide it,” said a little voice inside her. Kelly listened and did what the voice said: She put the wet shirt into a plastic bag and hid it in a garbage can.
As the days slipped by, Kelly ate more and more of the butter toffee. By Thursday night, only one small piece was left. “I’ll save it for tomorrow,” she thought, slipping the box back under Sondra’s sweaters.
“Kelly, what are you doing?”
Kelly whirled around and looked up into Sondra’s angry face. Without thinking, she ran toward the door.
But Sondra caught her arm and pulled her back. “I didn’t want to believe it about you,” said Sondra, “but I guess that it’s true. My little sister is a liar and a thief.”
Kelly’s face turned red. “No, I’m not!” she shouted. She wrenched her arm free, burst into sobs, and ran from the room. She slammed her bedroom door and, flinging herself onto her bed, cried, “I’m not! I’m not! I’m not!” But a little voice inside her asked, “Then why did you lie and steal?”
Kelly sat up, surprised. She wiped her hand across her eyes and blew her nose on a tissue. For a long time she sat thinking. Then she knelt to pray.
“I have to do it,” she said, getting up. “It’ll be hard, but I have to do it.” Kelly went to the phone in her parents’ bedroom, got out the ward directory, and dialed Bishop Barton’s number. “Hello, Bishop Barton. This is Kelly Fife. May I come and see you?”
They made an appointment for half an hour later. Kelly washed and dressed carefully, then walked to the bishop’s house. After the interview, Kelly was very sober. She shook Bishop Barton’s hand, looked hard into his eyes, and said, “I promise, and this time I really mean it!”
“Good,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m proud of your decision. It took a lot of courage to tell me what you did. I’ll tell your parents why we are postponing your baptism. They will agree that you are doing the right thing. I’m sure that you’ll be ready by next month.”
Kelly walked home slowly, thinking about what the bishop had taught her about repentance.
On Saturday no one mentioned baptism. Kelly worked for Sister Roberts all afternoon, weeding her flowers and planting little seedlings. Coming home, she was exhausted, but she had three dollars in her pocket.
On the way home from school the next Wednesday, Kelly ignored a little doll lying on the curb. “It isn’t mine,” she said, “even if it is lost.”
Kelly stayed out of Sondra’s room. Every morning she prayed for help to be honest, and every night she told Heavenly Father how she had done. On Saturday she worked for Sister Roberts again and came home with three more dollars.
The days passed quickly. Soon Kelly was seated once more in Bishop Barton’s office. “You have worked hard to repent, Kelly,” he said kindly. “I think that you are ready to be baptized this Saturday. And I think that your plan for making restitution to Sondra is admirable.”
On Saturday morning Kelly rode her bike to the shopping center near her home, made a purchase, had it gift-wrapped, and tucked it inside her backpack.
Dressed in white and with her hand in Dad’s that evening, Kelly felt peaceful and good. When her turn came, Dad took her hands, helped her into the water, and said the baptismal prayer: “Kelly Sue Fife, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen.”
The water closed over Kelly. She felt light and free, and when she came up into the air, she was so filled with happiness that she hugged her dad right there in the font.
After she was dry and dressed again, Kelly slipped her package out of her backpack and went to find Sondra.
“Congratulations, Kelly! I—“
“Oh, Sondra,” Kelly blurted, “it feels so good to be baptized! I really am sorry that I lied to you and stole your candy. I won’t ever do it again. Thank you for helping me repent. Here!” Kelly thrust out her package.
Sondra was speechless for a moment, then said, “Here!” and took a package from behind her back.
Kelly’s eyes were wide as she and Sondra unwrapped identical gold boxes of Maxworth’s Famous Butter Toffee!
The sisters began to laugh as they threw their arms around each other.

For Filipinos, 1972 was a year of economic and political crisis. Political corruption was rampant; the economy was in chaos. Remus Villarete was out of college and had a good job, but he was concerned about growing economic disparities among his people. Hoping to help the poor, Remus began organizing antigovernment rallies. One of his close friends, Yvonne L. Cawit, a nurse, also helped by treating people injured in street demonstrations.
In September 1972 President Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law. His government considered protesters like Remus and Yvonne enemies of the state. When the government published its list of most-wanted agitators, Remus’s name was second on the list in his area; Yvonne’s name also appeared on the list.
Remus and Yvonne began to discuss their future. Remus believed Yvonne would be better off surrendering to the military. Yvonne’s father also asked her to give herself up to the authorities. Three days after the declaration of martial law, she surrendered. Remus considered going into the mountains to become a guerilla fighter, but at the urging of his father and some relatives who had influence on government officials, he also surrendered. After spending more than three months in a stockade, he was released.
Family members had arranged his release on condition that he marry Yvonne; his family and the military believed marriage would keep Remus from going to the mountains and continuing his fight against the government. They were right. Ten days after his release, on 21 January 1973, Remus and Yvonne married. Remus stayed out of the mountains, but he and Yvonne continued to fight injustice peacefully.
Life was difficult at first, especially because they had trouble finding jobs. Eventually both found work in their respective hometowns—Yvonne in Cadiz and Remus in Bacolod, 65 kilometers away. While staying with Yvonne’s parents in Cadiz, they met the full-time missionaries. The gospel changed the lives of everyone in the household.
Carmelino Cawit, Yvonne’s father, was a religious man who enjoyed listening to the elders. Only a few months passed before he, his wife, and two daughters entered the waters of baptism. Brother Cawit became the president of the Cadiz Branch and later a bishop, stake president, and patriarch.
Remus and Yvonne also appreciated the message of the restored gospel, but Remus was distracted by his friends, who did not live the Word of Wisdom. Because he had not been reading the Book of Mormon, Remus was not ready for baptism when the time came for his baptismal interview.
He also wanted to practice what the elders were teaching him before he committed to baptism. “Once I join a certain organization, I am committed to the work,” Remus said years later. So he began attending Church, paying tithing, fasting, contributing to the missionary fund, and reading the Book of Mormon carefully and prayerfully. By doing the will of his Heavenly Father, Remus soon came to “know of the doctrine” for himself (John 7:17). He and Yvonne were baptized in May 1975.
Three months later the first Philippines area conference was held in Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City. President Spencer W. Kimball was scheduled to speak, and Remus was determined to see him.
“Immediately after the conference, I returned to Bacolod. I went straight home and told my wife, ‘We have to follow the prophet.’ She said, ‘Why, what did the prophet say?’ The prophet said, ‘Families are forever, and it is important that families should be together.’ We should be together.”
Remus had been staying in Bacolod during the week, returning to Cadiz on the weekends. Following President Kimball’s admonition, Yvonne quit her job in Cadiz, and the family moved to Bacolod to be with Remus. Opportunities for gospel growth soon came to the family as the Villaretes were called to many leadership positions. When the Bacolod stake was created in 1981 by Elder Marion D. Hanks of the Seventy, Brother Villarete was sustained as its first president. He served in that position until 1987, when he moved to Cebu to become a regional real estate manager for the Church.
President Villarete then served as a regional representative from 1988 until 1991, when he was called as president of the Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission on the island of Mindanao. He and Sister Villarete remained on Mindanao until he was released in June 1995. A few days later, Brother Villarete was called as an Area Authority Seventy in the Philippines/Micronesia Area.
Once Remus and Yvonne found the right cause, they gave themselves to it with all their hearts, keeping the commandments and following the President of the Church. Their dedication to the gospel has never faltered.

On 20 April 1935, after five years as stake president, Brother Lee was called to the office of the First Presidency and was asked to take charge of a new Church welfare plan. He felt very humble and inadequate in this huge assignment. So, as was his pattern, he went to the Lord in prayer.

“As I kneeled down, my petition was, ‘What kind of organization should be set up in order to accomplish what the Presidency has assigned?’ And there came to me that glorious morning one of the most heavenly realizations of the power of the priesthood of God. It was as though something were saying to me, ‘There is no new organization necessary to take care of the needs of this people. All that is necessary is to put the priesthood of God to work. There is nothing else that you need as a substitute.’”

He resigned from the city commission and began a life of full-time service to the kingdom of God, never wavering in his assurance that God would guide him and that within the priesthood organization were the answers to all the challenges that lay ahead of the growing church.

As their family grew and matured in the gospel, they taught their two sons about the importance of going to the temple. (Their youngest son is currently serving a mission.) The Powells were thrilled that when their oldest son, Barat, got engaged, temple marriage was immediately part of the plan. Ishla, his fiancée, was a new member of the Church. “From the first day I met with the missionaries, I knew the gospel was true, and I loved it,” she says. She grew close to the current branch president’s family, the Isaacs, who had been introduced to the Church by the Powells.
At the time of her baptism, Barat had four months remaining on his mission. “The Isaacs kept saying he would be the right match for me, but I wanted to postpone marriage and serve a mission myself,” Ishla says. Even though the branch and mission presidents approved her missionary application, Ishla explains, “Suddenly and unexpectedly my mind was completely changed. I wanted to pray for marriage.”
When he returned from his mission, Barat was surprised when several people told him that Ishla would be right for him. A short time later they met briefly at the wedding of President Isaac’s daughter but never talked much. Indian society is quite formal about men and women getting acquainted, and both Barat and Ishla wanted to behave appropriately.
Three weeks later Ishla was praying and wondering what to do, and so was Barat. “The Lord showed me through so many ways that Barat was the right one,” Ishla says. “But I was very reserved. I prayed, ‘Lord, if this is the way, then show me how I can speak to him.’”
Barat says, “I had talked to several people about her, and they all had nothing but good to say. Suddenly I thought, ‘I need to talk to her right now,’ but I didn’t know how. I called President Isaac’s sister and asked if she thought it was all right to call.”
Ishla continues, “As I was praying, the branch president’s sister telephoned and said, ‘Barat wants to talk to you. Can I give him your number?’” Half an hour later they were talking. Barat says, “It was as if we had known each other for years.”
Ishla had learned about temple marriage at institute and knew she wouldn’t settle for anything less. Barat felt the same way. But they would have to save money to travel to the temple, and it meant many friends and family members, including Barat’s mother and father, wouldn’t have enough money to travel with them.
“It’s a long way to go, and traveling is very expensive, but we all agreed they should go,” Sathiadhas recalls. “We told them we would celebrate with them at the legal ceremony before they left, and we asked them to take lots of pictures after they were sealed. Then we would celebrate again when they returned.
“We are teaching the younger generation the importance of the temple,” Sathiadhas explains. “We encourage all people to go to the temple, and we wanted our children to go there too.” He says he is particularly pleased with the way Barat and Ishla respected their parents, the customs of their people, and their own agency.
“In India people refer to ‘arranged marriages’ and ‘love marriages,’” Barat says. “We feel we have both.” In fact, Barat and Ishla prefer to call their marriage a “guided marriage.” “We were brought together by our families and friends but also by the Spirit,” he says. “We hope the Spirit will always guide our marriage.”

Holiness to the Lord in everyday life looks like two faithful young adults, married for a year, sharing with authenticity and vulnerability gospel covenants, sacrifice, and service in their unfolding lives.
She begins, “In high school, I was in a dark place. I felt like God wasn’t there for me. One night, a text from a friend said, ‘Hey, have you read Alma 36 ever?’
“As I started reading,” she said, “I was overcome with peace and love. I felt like I was being given this big hug. When I read Alma 36:12, I knew Heavenly Father saw me and knew exactly how I was feeling.”
She continues, “Before we got married, I was honest with my fiancé that I didn’t have a great testimony of tithing. Why did God need us to give money when others had so much to give? My fiancé helped explain it’s not about money but following a commandment asked of us. He challenged me to start paying tithing.
“I really saw my testimony grow,” she said. “Sometimes money gets tight, but we saw so many blessings, and somehow paychecks were enough.”
Also, “in my nursing class,” she said, “I was the only member of the Church and the only one married. Many times I left class frustrated or crying because I felt classmates singled me out and made negative comments about my beliefs, my wearing my garments, or my being married so young.”
Yet she continues, “This past semester I learned how to better voice my beliefs and be a good gospel example. My knowledge and testimony grew because I was tested in my ability to stand alone and be strong in what I believe.”
The young husband adds, “Before my mission I had offers to play college baseball. Making the difficult decision, I put those offers aside and went to serve the Lord. I wouldn’t trade those two years for anything.
“Returning home,” he said, “I expected a difficult transition but found myself stronger, faster, and healthier. I was throwing harder than when I left. I had more offers to play than when I left, including my dream school. And, most importantly,” he said, “I rely upon the Lord more than ever.”
He concludes, “As a missionary I taught that Heavenly Father promises us power in our prayers, but sometimes I forget that for myself.”
Our treasury of missionary holiness-to-the-Lord blessings is rich and full. Finances, timing, and other circumstances are often not easy. But when missionaries of all ages and backgrounds consecrate holiness to the Lord, things can work out in the Lord’s time and way.
Now with a 48-year perspective, a senior missionary shares, “My dad wanted me to get a college education, not go on a mission. Shortly after that, he had a heart attack and died at age 47. I felt guilty. How could I make things right with my father?
“Later,” he continues, “after I decided to serve a mission, I saw my father in a dream. Peaceful and contented, he was happy I would serve.”
This senior missionary continues, “As Doctrine and Covenants section 138 teaches, I believe my father could serve as a missionary in the spirit world. I picture my father helping our great-grandfather, who left Germany at age 17 and was lost to the family, be found again.”
His wife adds, “Among the five brothers in my husband’s family, the four who served missions are the ones with college degrees.”
Holiness to the Lord in everyday life looks like a young returning missionary who learned to let God prevail in his life. Earlier, when asked to bless someone who was very sick, this missionary said, “I have faith; I will bless him to recover. Yet,” the returning missionary says, “I learned in that moment to pray not for what I wanted but for what the Lord knew the person needed. I blessed the brother with peace and comfort. He later passed away peacefully.”
Holiness to the Lord in everyday life feels like a spark arcing across the veil to connect, comfort, and strengthen. An administrator at a major university says he feels individuals he knows only by reputation praying for him. Those individuals devoted their lives to the university and continue to care about its mission and students.
A sister does her best each day, after her husband was unfaithful to her and the children. I deeply admire her and others like her. One day while folding laundry, her hand on a stack of garments, she sighed to herself, “What’s the point?” She felt a tender voice assure her, “Your covenants are with me.”
For 50 years, another sister yearned for a relationship with her father. “Growing up,” she says, “there were my brothers and my dad, and then there was me—the only daughter. All I ever wanted was to be ‘good enough’ for my dad.
“Then my mom passed away! She was my only liaison between my dad and me.
“One day,” the sister said, “I heard a voice say, ‘Invite your dad and take him to the temple with you.’ That was the beginning of a twice-a-month date with my daddy to the house of the Lord. I told my dad I loved him. He told me he loved me too.
“Spending time in the house of the Lord has healed us. My mom could not help us on earth. It took her being on the other side of the veil to help mend what was broken. The temple completed our journey to wholeness as an eternal family.”
The father says, “The temple dedication was a great spiritual experience for me and my only daughter. Now we attend together and feel our love strengthen.”
Holiness to the Lord in everyday life includes tender moments when loved ones pass. Earlier this year, my dear mother, Jean Gong, slipped into the next life days before her 98th birthday.
If you asked my mother, “Would you like rocky road, white chocolate ginger, or strawberry ice cream?” Mom would say, “Yes, please, may I taste each one?” Who could say no to your mother, especially when she loved all of life’s flavors?
I once asked Mom which decisions had most shaped her life.
She said, “Being baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and moving from Hawaii to the mainland, where I met your father.”
Baptized as a 15-year-old, the only member of her large family to join our Church, my mother had covenant faith and trust in the Lord that blessed her life and all our family generations. I miss my mother, as you miss members in your family. But I know my mother is not gone. She is just not here now. I honor her and all who pass as valiant examples of everyday holiness to the Lord.
Of course, holiness to the Lord in everyday life includes coming more often to the Lord in His holy house. This is true whether we are Church members or friends.
Three friends came to the Bangkok Thailand Temple open house.
“This is a place of super healing,” said one.
In the baptistry, another said, “When I am here, I want to be washed clean and never sin again.”
The third said, “Can you feel the spiritual power?”
With nine sacred words, our temples invite and proclaim:
“Holiness to the Lord.
“The House of the Lord.”
Holiness to the Lord makes daily living sacred. It draws us closer and happier to the Lord and each other and prepares us to live with God our Father, Jesus Christ, and our loved ones.
As did my friend, you may wonder if your Heavenly Father loves you. The answer is a resounding, absolute yes! We can feel His love as we make holiness to the Lord ours each day, happy and forever. May we do so, I pray in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Seventeen-year-old Brandon Frampton shared an experience about simply saying thank you.
“At my high school, I usually eat in the cafeteria. Every day I get in line, buy my lunch, eat, and leave. One day I felt impressed to say thank you to the lady who was serving me my lunch. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but later I learned that because of my remark she had a much better day. I still always say thank you, and I have noticed others doing the same now. Everyone can make a difference.”

Lately I have been thinking of a time in my life when the weight of worry and concern over an uncertain future seemed ever present. I was 11 years old and living with my family in the attic of a farmhouse near Frankfurt, Germany. We were refugees for the second time in a period of only a few years, and we were struggling to establish ourselves in a new place far away from our previous home. I could say that we were poor, but that would be an understatement. We all slept in one room that was so tiny there was scarcely space to walk around the beds. In the other small room, we had a few pieces of modest furniture and a stove that Mother used to cook meals on. To get from one room to the other, we had to pass through a storage area where the farmer kept his equipment and tools, along with assorted meats and sausages hanging from the rafters. The aroma always made me very hungry. We had no bathroom, but we did have an outhouse—down the stairs and some 50 feet (15 m) away, though it seemed much farther during wintertime.
Because I was a refugee and because of my East German accent, other children often made fun of me and called me names that deeply hurt. Of all the times of my youth, I believe this may have been the most discouraging.
Now, decades later, I can look back on those days through the softening filter of experience. Even though I still remember the hurt and despair, I can see now what I was unable to see then: this was a period of great personal growth. During this time, our family bonded together. I watched and learned from my parents. I admired their determination and optimism. From them I learned that adversity, when confronted with faith, courage, and tenacity, could be overcome.

Sister Patricia Parkinson was born with normal eyesight, but at age seven she began to go blind. At age nine, Pat began attending the Utah Schools for the Deaf and Blind in Ogden, Utah, some 90 miles (145 km) from her home, necessitating her boarding at the school—which included all of the homesickness that a nine-year-old could possibly experience.
By age 11, she had completely lost her eyesight. Pat returned home permanently at age 15 to attend her local high school. She went on to college and graduated with an undergraduate degree in communication disorders and psychology, and after a heroic struggle against doubting university admissions officials, she entered graduate school and completed a master’s degree in speech language pathology. Pat now works with 53 elementary school students and supervises four speech-language technicians in her school district. She owns her own home and her own automobile, which friends and family members drive when Pat needs transportation.
At age 10, Pat was scheduled to have yet another medical procedure to address her diminishing eyesight. Her parents had always told her exactly what was going to happen in terms of her medical care, but for some reason they didn’t tell her about this particular procedure. When her parents did tell her that the procedure had been scheduled, Pat, in the words of her mother, “was a mess.” Pat ran to the other room but came back later and said to her parents with some indignation, “Let me tell you what. I know it, God knows it, and you might as well know it too. I am going to be blind the rest of my life!”
Several years ago, Pat traveled to California to visit family members who were living there. While she was outside with her three-year-old nephew, he said to her, “Aunt Pat, why don’t you just ask Heavenly Father to give you new eyes? Because if you ask Heavenly Father, He will give you whatever you want. You just have to ask Him.”
Pat said she was taken aback by the question but responded, “Well, sometimes Heavenly Father doesn’t work like that. Sometimes He needs you to learn something, and so He doesn’t give you everything you want. Sometimes you have to wait. Heavenly Father and the Savior know best what is good for us and what we need. So They aren’t going to grant you everything you want in the moment you want it.”
I’ve known Pat for many years and recently told her that I admired the fact that she is always positive and happy. She responded, “Well, you have not been at home with me, have you? I have my moments. I’ve had rather severe bouts of depression, and I’ve cried a lot.” However, she added, “From the time I started losing my sight, it was strange, but I knew that Heavenly Father and the Savior were with my family and me. We handled it the best way we could, and in my opinion, we handled it the right way. I have ended up being a successful enough person, and generally I have been a happy person. I remember His hand being in everything. To those who ask me if I am angry because I am blind, I respond, ‘Who would I be angry with? Heavenly Father is in this with me; I am not alone. He is with me all the time.’”
In this case, Pat’s desire to regain her sight will not be granted in this life. But her motto, learned from her father, is “This too shall pass.”

By the time he was 14 years old, an acquaintance of mine was more than six feet tall and very uncoordinated. He said, “One afternoon when I was in a 10th-grade seminary class, the Spirit really touched me. I came to know that the gospel literally was true. I made up my mind that day that I wanted to serve the Lord in any way I could.”
By his senior year, he was taller and much more coordinated. Many universities offered him scholarships to play basketball. After his first year playing at a university, he told his coach that he would like to be excused for two years to go on a mission. The coach said, “If you leave, you can be sure of one thing: you will never again wear one of our basketball uniforms!” Many thought that his “mission” ought to be playing basketball. Even some family members, including his parents, tried to convince him not to serve a mission. But he was totally committed. He was willing to give everything to the Lord—the scholarship, the applause of the fans, and the excitement of playing. He knew what the Lord was counting on him to do. He was called, and he served an honorable mission.
When he returned two years later, he was even taller and about 35 pounds heavier. His coach decided to repent. He was permitted to wear one of those basketball uniforms again, and in his senior year, his team not only won the conference championship but went on to the finals in national competition.

I was a Mormon chaplain newly arrived in Vietnam and had been directed by a senior chaplain to teach a series of character guidance classes. A check through channels failed to produce a copy of the regular manual, but the assignment stood. The first lesson was scheduled to be given to Alpha Company immediately after they had finished their 12-hour-duty day. The class was to be taught in a quonset hut that was being used as a post office.
The company was waiting for me when I arrived—about a hundred of them in all, draped over mailbags, slouched over the few available chairs, leaning against the walls, or seated on the floor. Not having a lesson, I was free to move in any direction I wanted to go, so I posed this question for discussion: “What effect will the manner in which you conduct yourself in Vietnam have on your relationship with your wife or sweetheart when you return home?”
The initial response to the question consisted of snickers, whispering, and a quick turning or lowering of the head of any whose eyes I tried to catch. A prompt solution to their bashfulness was a randomly selected panel. Much to my chagrin, but to the delight of the GI’s, it was immediately apparent that my selection of a panel was less than inspired. They all consciously avoided saying anything that they thought the chaplain wanted them to say. They weren’t going to play goodie-goodie in front of their peers. Vietnam, they argued, was a twilight zone, and what they did there had no relationship with the real world. The last member of the panel to speak bragged about the double-standard by which he was living and concluded by saying, “What my wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Someone challenged him by asking how he would feel about his wife living by that same standard. He tried to maintain his cavalier image, responding that if he didn’t know about it he didn’t care. Somehow that response did not come across with much conviction. Disdain was clearly written upon the faces of his audience and it became evident for the first time that they saw through the shallowness of the arguments that had been presented.
Then a rather unusual thing happened. A tall, broad-shouldered fellow who had been sitting quietly in the back of the room stood and asked if he could speak. Silence swept across the room, evidencing that he commanded respect. He did not raise his voice, but all heard what he had to say. He told about his fiancé and the love they shared. He spoke of the beautiful relationship that was theirs, and then with tears streaming down his face, he told how all that had been destroyed by their violation of the law of chastity. He spoke of a betrayed trust and expressed his hope that someday, somehow, they could gain again the feeling that once was theirs. The effect was dramatic. I waited a few moments for it to have its full impact and then added the testimony of a Mormon elder.
With the announcement that the class was dismissed, a few of the fellows got up and walked out, but the better part of the company remained. A group gathered around to ask more questions. A number expressed themselves to the effect that they had never heard a priest or minister “give it so straight before” or even take a position on the question of morality. One young GI, curious to know what denomination I represented, asked, “What kind of chaplain are you?” Before I could answer, the fellow standing behind him responded loud enough for all to hear, “He is a chaplain’s chaplain!”
Reflecting on that experience as I returned to my quarters that night, I came to a greater realization of our responsibility as Latter-day Saints. The world is replete with “many kinds of voices,” voices that sound “an uncertain sound,” and yet there are many who are ready to respond to the banners of truth. We are of Israel, the English equivalent of which means “prince of God,” or “soldier of God.” We live in times when good is made to appear as evil and evil as good. Prophetically, they are described as times of “false and vain and foolish doctrines.” They are times that call for courage. They are times that call for quiet example, and they are times that call for bold denunciation of those things that sap character and destroy nations. They are times for soldiers of God.

There is the story told of Lord George Hall of an earlier time. It is a mythical story. Believe it or not, but at least take the lesson if you find one there. “Lord George had led an evil life. He had been a drunkard, a gambler, and a cheat in business, and his face reflected the life he had led. It was a very evil face.
“One day he fell in love with a simple country girl to whom he proposed marriage. Jenny Mere told him that she could never marry a man whose face was so repulsive and so evil-looking; and also that when she did marry, she wanted a man with a saintlike face, which was the mirror of true love.
“Following a custom of the day, Lord George went down to Mr. Aeneas in Bond Street, London. Aeneas made waxen masks for people, and his skill was so art-perfect that the person’s identity was completely hidden. As proof of his skill, it is said that many spendthrift debtors, equipped with his masks, could pass among their creditors unrecognized. Aeneas went to his storeroom, selected a mask, heated it over a lamp, fixed it to Lord George’s face; and when Lord George looked in the glass, he had the face of a saint who loved dearly. So altered was his appearance that Jenny Mere was soon wooed and won.
“He bought a little cottage in the country, almost hidden in an arbor of roses, with a tiny garden spot. From then on his entire life changed. He became interested in nature; he found ‘sermons in stones, books in brooks, and good in everything.’ Formerly he was blasé and life had no interest for him; now, he was engrossed in kindliness, and the world around him.
“He was not content with starting life anew, but tried to make amends for the past. Through a confidential solicitor he restored his ill-gotten gains to those whom he had cheated. Each day brought new refinements to his character, more beautiful thoughts to his soul.
“By accident, his former companions discovered his identity. They visited him in his garden, and urged him to return to his old evil life. When he refused, he was attacked, and the mask was torn from his face.
“He hung his head. Here was the end of all; here was the end of his newfound life and his love dream. As he stood with bowed head, with the mask at his feet on the grass, his wife rushed across the garden and threw herself on her knees in front of him. When she looked up at him, what do you suppose she found? Lo! Line for line, feature for feature, the face was the same as that of the mask. Lines of beauty—regular features.” (Source unknown.)

Illustrations by Scott Peck
So much homework … But tomorrow I get to play with my friends.
Mom? Nobody wants to go to the school carnival with me tomorrow.
I just don’t have any real friends.
I’m so sorry, sweetie.
I wish I could help … What would Jesus do?
I know!
I can go with you to the carnival, if you want. I bet we’d have lots of fun together!
But aren’t you playing with your friends tomorrow?
Well, you are one of my friends!
Best carnival ever!
Kindness is one of the best gifts you can ever give.
See family manual, page 79.

Emilee Dolberg, 12, of Stockton, California, came out on top in several subjects in her grade. She placed first in the handwriting contest, first in spelling, first in the math contest, first in essay writing, and first in the talent competition (she plays the piano).
Emilee went on to compete with individual winners from other schools on a district level. She was first in handwriting, third in math, and first in essay writing. Her essay placed fourth nationally.
Emilee is secretary of her Beehive class in the Stockton Fourth Ward.