Gospel Story Finder

But there’s more to these brothers than sports. Their father, Don, recalls that “when Matt was serving as teachers quorum president, he took his calling seriously. He identified quorum members who didn’t attend regularly and prayed about what to do. He worked with adult leaders to organize an overnight campout he thought they would attend. One young man said he would be interested, and Matt followed up with him almost daily at school. In the end, three less-active boys came, enjoyed the association with the others, and heard the bishop make a presentation about Joseph Smith and bear testimony of the Savior.”

Years ago, I received a blue book with gold lettering on the cover from missionaries serving on the military base where I was receiving training for my job in the United States Navy.
As I started to read the book, someone told me that it was false because it was copied from the Bible. This caused me to doubt the book’s authenticity, but I held onto it. I read a little of it, put it in the bottom of my seabag, and then forgot about it.
Over a year later, I decided to clean out my seabag. I found the book but no longer had any interest in it, so I threw it away. But sometime later, I grew curious about what was in that blue book with gold lettering. I now believe that this feeling came from the Spirit, “which leadeth to do good” (Doctrine and Covenants 11:12).
In 2005 a newfound friend invited me to listen to the missionaries. At first, I had questions and doubts about what they taught, but the missionaries were confident and gave answers that made sense to me.
When I realized that these missionaries were like the ones I had met years before, I anxiously asked them, “Do you guys have a blue book with gold lettering?”
“Yes, we do!” one of them replied. “It’s called the Book of Mormon!”
I was excited to have the Book of Mormon again. In fact, I was so excited that I read it more than once in less than two weeks! As I read and prayed, I came to know that it is the word of God.

A boy sticks his tongue out at you. What should you do? This happened to Elder Wayne S. Peterson of the Seventy while he was waiting in his car. What do you think he did? Elder Peterson remembered how important it is to choose the right. He explains: “I waved at the little boy. He stuck his tongue out at me again. I smiled and waved again. This time he waved back. Soon he was joined … by a little brother and sister. [When their car] pulled away, my newfound friends continued to wave for as long as I could see them” (“Our Actions Determine Our Character,” Liahona, January 2002, 96).

Last year a dear family friend passed away. Lucile was 89 years old and had been a widow for more than 20 years. She was not a rich woman, she was not famous, and most of the world knew nothing of her passing. But her family knew. Her neighbors knew. The members of her ward knew. For all who had experienced her love, her death had left the world a diminished place. During her years as a widow, Lucile had endured difficult challenges, including the death of a beloved grandson and infirmities brought on by age. But Lucile continued to nourish everyone she knew with her spirit; with her baked goods, her quilts and afghans; with her humor and goodwill. And she loved to work in the temple. One spring day in 1981, she wrote in her journal: “This morning at 3:30 A.M., as I was walking up the path to the temple, I watched the flag gently blowing in the breeze and looked at the beautiful sky and thought how happy I was to be there. I felt sad for all the people who [were] sleeping and missing the awakening of a beautiful day.”
Most of us don’t think the world is “awakening” at 3:30 in the morning, and we’re perfectly happy to roll over in bed about then and allow Lucile to feel sorry for us. But what an attitude! Only a flow of goodness from within could explain it. Did she possess this purity of spirit at 15, at 25, or even 55? I don’t know. In most cases, it probably takes a lifetime of listening to the Holy Ghost before we know God’s voice so well and before we trust in the living waters enough to taste them throughout the entire day—especially a day that begins at 3:30 A.M. But I believe the living waters sustained Lucile during those long years when she might have given way to self-pity, and her life, her spirit, became nourishment to everyone she knew.

May I share a few observations our interns are experiencing out on the job? One of our married interns working for a large residential home builder in a large city here in the west called me after only being out a few weeks to report that things were much more difficult for him and his wife than he had ever imagined. The neighborhood that they were renting a home in was scary and they didn’t dare go out after dark. The ward they attended had a large number of less active members and within the ward boundaries were hundreds of families that were not members of the Church. This student was shocked to find that many of those he worked with would lie, cheat and steal. He and his wife were lonely and discouraged. After being out a few months he reported that work was going fine, those he worked with respected his values, his boss loved his attitude and had offered him a full time position. He and his wife found they were desperately needed in the ward and it was fun to do missionary work in the area.

“See you later!” Patrick waved to the missionaries as they left his house. He always liked the feeling he had when the missionaries came over—it was a warm, good feeling.
The missionaries had been coming to Patrick’s house a lot lately. They were teaching his family about Joseph Smith, the Book of Mormon, the priesthood, and all sorts of other things about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Patrick and his mom had even gone to church with them. Patrick liked Primary because they sang and colored and listened to stories.
“If Mom and Dad join the Church, I can go to Primary every Sunday,” Patrick thought happily.
Mom was excited about the Church and all the things the missionaries taught. But Dad just seemed to listen because Mom wanted him to. After the missionaries taught Patrick how to pray, he knelt down every night and prayed that Dad would want to go to church.
One evening, Patrick saw Dad lying on the couch. He didn’t look so good.
“Dad, are you OK?” Patrick asked.
“Sure, buddy,” Dad said. “I just have a little stomachache. I’ll be fine.”
Patrick didn’t think Dad looked fine. He went to find Mom.
After feeling Dad’s forehead, Mom suggested they go to the emergency room.
“No, I’ll be OK. I just need to—” Dad groaned and scrunched up into a ball as a look of pain came over his face.
Patrick was worried. Then he thought of something. “Why don’t we call the missionaries?” he said. “Maybe they can give Dad a blessing.”
Patrick had learned about blessings when the missionaries had taught them about the priesthood. He knew the priesthood was the power to act in the name of God and that someone with the priesthood could heal the sick, just like Jesus did in the Bible.
Mom looked at Dad. When he nodded his head, she went to call the missionaries. A little while later there was a knock at the door. The missionaries said hello to Patrick and Mom. Then they went straight to where Dad was lying on the couch. The missionaries took out a small container of consecrated oil and placed a drop on Dad’s head. Then they placed their hands gently on his head and gave him a blessing.
After the blessing, Dad was smiling and had tears in his eyes. He didn’t look like he was in pain anymore. Dad sat up and shook the missionaries’ hands.
“Thank you,” Dad said.
Patrick smiled too. That warm, good feeling was back, and he knew Dad was going to be OK.
The next morning, Patrick was excited when he realized it was Sunday. As he and Mom got ready for church, Patrick saw Dad standing in front of a mirror, tying his tie. He was going to church with them!
“Ready for church, buddy?” Dad asked Patrick.
“You bet!”
Patrick felt happier than ever before. He silently thanked Heavenly Father for answering his prayers and for sending two missionaries with the power of the priesthood to bless his family.

I know this feeling. I once had a similar experience. It happened 45 years ago. It happened on this very campus. It turned me into a life-long learner.

I had been on my mission for 13 months. I was obedient, and I was working hard. Yet I was having no success. To fix this problem, I committed to work harder. This solution did not work. I was getting quite discouraged and I blamed my external circumstances.

One day I received a call from a Samoan man who lived in Hauula. He said he had someone for us to teach. That night, in the Hauula chapel we taught a first discussion. At the end of the lesson I said these words." I know Joseph Smith is a prophet of God."  I turned to our friend and asked if he would like to share his testimony. He said, "I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God."  When he spoke, the room filled with power. The woman started to cry. She was converted in that very moment.

That night I did not sleep. I kept replaying the event. I said some words and nothing happened. My Samoan friend said the same words and the room changed. It became a sacred place. While I rejoiced in the conversion that took place, I was troubled by my lack of power. As I focused on my weakness, I became increasingly negative. I began, like Lehi, to travel in darkness. Like Lehi, my desperation became so great, I pled for mercy.

Mercy came. A very short time later I had a conversation with a man who was visiting this campus. I explained my concerns. He ask me, "Elder, when these pretty girls pass you on campus, what do you think about?" Before I could answer, he asked more questions. Did I ever become insensitive, angry, controlling, unkind, and so on?

He explained the need to change my heart. I asked how to do this seemingly impossible thing. In response, he asked, where did Jesus bleed from every pore? Was it on Calvary, where he was crucified, or in Garden the night before the crucifixion?

He explained that Jesus bled in the garden because he spiritually lived the temptation and pain before he lived it physically. He then said, "Go home and fast for a day. In the attitude of fasting and prayer, make a list of every behavior that pokes at your spirit. Once you have made the list, covenant with the Lord that you will be obedient." 

"You cannot just stop the old behaviors and start the new ones. You need to live through your temptations spiritually before you conquer them physically. So each morning go to the Lord with your list. In regards to each item, envision the temptations and specifically promise Him what you will quit doing or what you will start doing. Then go out. At night kneel down and report on each item. If you succeed on one, thank Him for his help. If you fail, ask His forgiveness and commit to keep that principle the next day. Then repeat the entire process. Do it every day for 40 days." 

We went home determined to do what he suggested. We began to fast and make our lists. It proved much harder than we assumed it would be. I would pray and then I would feel impressed to write down some item. Then arguing that there was nothing wrong with the particular thing, I would fight the impression.

For example, I felt impressed to put the word golf on the list. My argument was, "There is nothing wrong with golf. It is not against the rules and we only play on preparation day." What I did not admit, is that I spent a lot of time thinking about golf. I wrestled with the Spirit and I kept losing. Finally I wrote golf. Then I wrote down a number of other things that I did not want to write.

From the moment I wrote golf, I experienced the most intense desire to play golf. Everywhere I turned there was some reminder, some temptation to think about golf. I was in agony. So it was with each item on the list. Each day I had to fight all my natural inclinations and turn to the Lord for the help necessary to overcome myself. Sometime between the 30th and 40th day, I realized that my desire for the negative things on the list had disappeared. It was as if a great anchor had been cut from my ship. My capacity to do the positive things on the list had increased. It was as if a new engine had been added to my ship.

On the fortieth day my companion and I prepared to leave the apartment. We had prayer and walked toward the door. I felt impressed to go back and pray again.

The words of the second prayer were given to me: "Father we are now doing all in our power to serve Thee. These are Thy children. Please take them the rest of way. And let the glory be unto Thee forever." 

We went to our next appointment. As we taught, the room was filled by the third member of the Godhead. This means God was present in that room. Our words were filled with power. Our investigator was converted. We went to our second investigator, and again there was a manifestation of power. This investigator was also converted, as was the next and the next. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas we remained constantly in the presence of God and many people were converted.

How did this happen?
Because I could stand the pain no longer, like Lehi, I pled for mercy. When we make such a plea, it is a sign of a broken heart and a contrite spirit. The mercy came. The Holy Ghost ministered to me, and I increased in faith, hope and charity. To be filled with the pure love of Christ is to commune with Christ. To commune is to be one with.

I, too, have had many personal experiences with hope. As a senior at BYU-Provo, I was filled with hope. I met Bonnie and knew immediately she was the one I wanted to marry. This was confirmed through several powerful spiritual experiences. It took a few months, but on New Year’s Eve I closed the deal when she said “yes”. On May 7, we were married in the Salt Lake Temple. I was also accepted into Harvard’s MBA program. Two of my fondest hopes were fulfilled. We loved our time in the Boston area and I earned my MBA, but had a hard time finding the type of job I hoped for. I found one in Salt Lake City, but it really wasn’t a good fit and I was never happy there. After 18 months, I lost my job, with a wife and two small children to provide for. This was a huge blow to my confidence, but I never lost hope. During the following ten years, many aspects of life were great. I had a wonderful wife, for whom I thanked the Lord every day. We added two children, loved serving in the Princeton Ward and lived near family and lifelong friends. However, the hopes I had for my career were not being met.

During this time, I taught on the side at the University of Phoenix and then the University of Utah. I enjoyed teaching and considered making a career of it. That meant going back to school to get a PhD. I talked with professors and administrators at Weber State University and the University of Utah, who gave mixed advice. I asked Craig Sudbury, a member of our stake presidency, to give me a blessing that I might know what to do. Bro. Sudbury started the blessing somewhat haltingly, but the Spirit suddenly kicked in with promises for what was in store if I pursued the PhD. It was like having a second patriarchal blessing.

With the hope this blessing gave me, I applied to six PhD programs. I particularly hoped the University of Michigan would accept me. It was the highest rated program on my list and located in a college town we thought would be good for our family. Two universities immediately accepted me, the most promising of which was the University of Washington in Seattle. However, weeks passed and I heard nothing from the University of Michigan. Thinking the University of Washington was going to be our best opportunity, Bonnie and I flew to Seattle at our own expense to see how we felt about it. Surprisingly, we didn’t feel good at all. We returned to Salt Lake City confused and discouraged. Then literally one day after returning, Claes Fornell, chair of the PhD program at the University of Michigan’s Graduate School of Business, called and invited me to attend their program. When I told Bonnie the news, we both knew that the University of Michigan was where we were supposed to be. At age 38, with four children, we made the huge leap of faith to leave our home in Salt Lake and be poor college students for at least four years, all based on the hope that our life would be richer for it. Things went very well at Michigan. After graduating, I joined the faculty at the University of Hawaii, which led us to BYU-Hawaii, the place we needed to be, both for my career and my family.

As she lay in bed, Julia thought back to the twins’ baptisms. They had been asked to sing a duet for the baptismal program. Julia remembered how nervous they had looked when they first got up in front of everyone. But they’d squeezed each other’s hand for courage and sung “Love One Another” beautifully.
When Sister Jacobsen, the stake Primary president, called Julia a few weeks ago, it surprised her. “Your sisters did such a wonderful job that we wondered if you would prepare a song for us also,” Sister Jacobsen had asked.
Before giving Sister Jacobsen an answer, Julia thought about it for several days. Her sisters were a lot more outgoing than she was, and they had lots of friends. Julia had a couple of good friends, but she usually just sat quietly in Primary and at school activities and seldom shared what she was thinking.
Once, Julia had overheard her mother’s friend call her shy. Her mother had replied, “Oh, she’s not really shy—she’s just a good listener.” But from then on, Julia thought of herself as being shy.
Dad had told Julia that after baptism she would be given a special gift, the gift of the Holy Ghost, and it would bless her in many ways. It would even help her gain more confidence. He said that it was one of the greatest gifts he had ever received, and Julia wondered if she’d feel the same. She didn’t really understand how it worked, and wondered how it could help her with her shyness. But she knew that the Holy Ghost is also called the Comforter, and the name sounded like that of a good friend.
One night, after praying and receiving a good feeling, Julia told Sister Jacobsen that she would sing at the baptism. Every night for two weeks she practiced “I Know My Father Lives” with her dad, who would accompany her on the piano. She knew both verses by heart, and her dad even learned them too. It was fun to sing together before going to bed.
As Julia lay in the darkness, the words of the song went through her head. “I know my Father lives and loves me too. The Spirit whispers this to me and tells me it is true, And tells me it is true.” She loved how the song made her feel, and as she softly hummed it, she finally fell asleep.
After breakfast the next morning, Julia dressed quickly in her new white dress. Everyone was happy and excited for her and listened one last time as she sang “I Know My Father Lives” without one mistake.
After changing into her baptismal clothes at the church, Julia and her dad took their places at the front of the chapel. There were five other children being baptized that day, and Julia knew most of them from school. She was surprised to see how many friends, parents, and relatives filled the chapel. A sick feeling of nervousness suddenly swept over her as she thought about standing in front of everyone and singing. She wished she hadn’t accepted, after all.
Julia tried not to think about the song and listened to the talks being given and watched the video presentation about the promises she was making. All too soon Sister Jacobsen announced her name and the song she would sing. Nervously she stood at the podium and looked down at her dad, who smiled warmly at her from his place at the piano.
I can do it, she thought to herself. I’ll just pretend I’m singing in my living room, and I won’t look at the crowd.
“I know my Father lives and loves me too,” Julia sang in a shaky voice. As she continued, she glanced down at the people who filled the chapel. There were so many of them, all looking at her, and all at once her head felt hot and dizzy. The words stuck in her throat, and then she couldn’t remember where she was in the song. There was nothing to do but stop singing.
It seemed to her as if she stood there forever, crying in front of everyone, her hands covering her face. Julia had never been so scared, and she didn’t know what to do. She felt so alone, in spite of all the people there, and she wanted to run out of the church just to get away from everyone.
But the piano was still playing, and through her crying she could hear a man’s voice softly singing the words. It was her dad. He was singing the end of the first verse. Julia wanted to sing along with him, but she was crying too hard. He started the second verse in a clear, strong voice: “He sent me here to earth, by faith to live his plan. The Spirit whispers this to me and tells me that I can, And tells me that I can.”
By the end of the song, Julia had stopped crying and had her eyes on her dad. She realized that the song was over and that her singing of it had been a failure. Embarrassed and still sniffling, she walked to her seat and took her place on the front row. When her dad slipped in beside her, she couldn’t bear to look up at him. She had disappointed her whole family and ruined the entire program. Oh, why did I ever think I could do it? Julia wondered. I’m just too shy.
Julia felt her dad’s strong arms lift her onto his lap. As she slowly looked up at him, she saw that he didn’t look disappointed in her at all. In fact, he had a big smile on his face.
“Oh, Julia,” he whispered excitedly, “this is how I can explain to you exactly how the gift of the Holy Ghost works. When you stopped singing and started to cry, you felt scared and alone, didn’t you?”
Julia nodded, puzzled.
“Then I helped you by singing the rest of the song when you couldn’t finish it. Well, after you receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, you need never feel alone again. When you are scared and don’t know what to do, if you listen very carefully, you will hear another voice coming through. Heavenly Father will send the Comforter to help you. He will help you make the right decisions. Most important, He will comfort you, if you just listen and keep the commandments. Julia, He will always be your friend.”
A warm feeling came over Julia as she placed her small hand inside her dad’s. She no longer felt embarrassed about not completing the song. For the first time she understood why the gift of the Holy Ghost was such a great gift. My own special Comforter, she thought happily.
“Maybe I am a little shy,” she whispered to her dad, “but I am a good listener.”

Elder Bangerter has asked me to share a deeply personal experience with you today. A few years ago, while we were living in St. George, Utah, I received a phone call. I could see on my caller ID that it was my dad. I had rarely heard from my father over the last 50 years, so I went to a quiet room for the call.

When I was just seven years old, while living in New York, my dad drove away for a new life with a new wife, leaving my mom, my four brothers, and myself. I’m certain he never looked back. My mom needed help, so she moved us to Salt Lake City to live by her sister, where we could be surrounded by good people and raised in the gospel. She worked two jobs and wore herself out each and every day. She taught us to trust in the Lord. Over the years, we were blessed to have wonderful ward members, great youth leaders, and bishops care for and love us.

My dad on the other hand, only took care of himself, not thinking of others. He was an alcoholic but eventually stopped drinking and smoking for health reasons. Now, we know from the scriptures, [2] from teachings of the prophets, [3] and from personal experience that we can’t really feel joy unless we are serving others. We grow when we look outside of ourselves and help others. But he had been caught in this sad, selfish state of looking inward for 90 years.

So, I answered the phone. He said, “Hi Susan, I just want to let you know that I’m getting baptized.” I said, “Dad, you have to go to church and stuff like that!” He chuckled and explained that he had been for months. Two missionaries had been teaching him about God, families, and eternal life. The ward and bishop had made him feel so welcome at church. The phone call ended quickly as he had many people to call. I walked out to our family room and announced to my husband and family that my dad was getting baptized. We were in disbelief . . . but we rented a 15-passenger van, loaded everyone in, including my brother and his wife, and drove to Bakersfield, California, to see it with our own eyes.

We made it in time, and there he was, dressed in white, standing between these two elders. I’m so very grateful they did not overlook a 90-year-old man who needed peace, who had children and grandchildren who had been praying for him for over 50 years.

I love everything about the gospel, but the cleansing ordinance of baptism and the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ has been confirmed to me in this very tender way. My dad then moved to St. George, Utah, to live with my brother and be closer to us. He came to visit almost every day, and each time he would tell me, or my husband, or one of our six sons, how sorry he was that he had missed our whole lives and that it would be different now. He expressed love over and over and talked of going to the temple and becoming an eternal family . . . words I never imagined I would hear in this life.

One day, I was planting flowers, and he sat in his walker next to me, offering this same apology. I listened again until he finished and said, “Dad, thank you for your apology. You need to understand that our Heavenly Father has always known you, and me, and when you were not there to take care of me, He took care of me. He gave Mom the strength she needed to care and provide for us. I forgave you so long ago. Our Savior has too. He has always known you, Dad. He loves you, and so do we.”

My mother tried to teach me when a small child to sing but failed because of my inability to carry a tune. When I joined a singing class taught by Professor Charles J. Thomas, he tried and tried in vain to teach me when 10 years of age to run the scale or carry a simple tune, and finally gave up in despair. He said that I could never, in this world, learn to sing. Perhaps he thought I might learn the divine art in another world. Ever since this attempt, I have frequently tried to sing when riding alone many miles from anyone who might hear me, but on such occasions could never succeed in carrying the tune of one of our familiar hymns for a single verse, and quite frequently not for a single line. …
While listening to Brother Horace S. Ensign sing, I remarked that I would gladly give two or three months of my spare time if by so doing it would result in my being able to sing one or two hymns. He answered that any person could learn to sing who had a reasonably good voice and who possessed perseverance and was willing to do plenty of practicing. My response was that I had an abundance of voice and considerable perseverance. … I would take my first music lesson of two hours upon the hymn, “O My Father.” Much to my surprise, at the end of four or five days, I was able to sing this hymn with Brother Ensign without any mistakes. At the end of two weeks, I could sing it alone, with the exception of being a little flat on some of the high notes. …
One Sunday, at the close of a meeting, upon telling Professor Charles J. Thomas that Brother Ensign informed me that I could sing, he said: “Didn’t you tell him I said no?” I answered, “Yes.” He said, “Why, you can’t even run the scale.” I said, “I am aware of that fact, having tried for half an hour this morning and failed.” My voice at 10 years of age must have made a deep impression upon Brother Thomas, seeing that he had remembered it for 33 years. Noticing that he seemed quite skeptical, I asked him to walk over with me into the corner of the building, so as not to disturb the people who had not yet left the meetinghouse when I sang to him in a low voice, “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.” At the close he said, “That’s all right.”
At the end of two or three months, I was able to sing not only “O My Father” but “God Moves in a Mysterious Way,” “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” and two or three other hymns … (Hymns, nos. 292, 285, 30).
It required a vast amount of practice to learn, and my first hymn was sung many hundreds of times before I succeeded in getting it right.
Today, my musical deafness is disappearing, and by sitting down to a piano and playing the lead notes, I can learn a song in less than one-tenth the time required when I first commenced to practice. …

Yearning to find the truth, Wilford Woodruff attended many religious meetings in the area around his home. At one such gathering, permission was given for anyone in the congregation to speak. Young Wilford stood, knowing that 40 or more ministers of various churches were in attendance. He stepped into the aisle and said:

“My friends, will you tell me why you don’t contend for the faith once delivered to the Saints? Will you tell me why you don’t contend for that Gospel that Jesus Christ taught, and that His Apostles taught? Why do you not contend for that religion that gives unto you power before God, power to heal the sick, to make the blind to see, the lame to walk, and that gives you the Holy Ghost and those gifts and graces that have been manifest from the creation of the world? Why do you not teach the people those principles that the ancient Patriarchs and Prophets taught while they were clothed with the revelations of God? They had the administrations of angels; they had dreams and visions, and constant revelation to guide and direct them in the path in which they should walk.”

The people at the meeting must have been surprised to hear such bold language from such a young man. Immediately, the presiding minister tried to discount the ideas Wilford Woodruff had shared. “My dear young man,” he said, “you would be a very smart man, and a very useful man in the earth, if you did not believe all those foolish things. These things were given to the children of men in the dark ages of the world. … Today we live in the blaze of the glorious gospel light, and we do not need those things.”

Unconvinced by this minister’s comments, Wilford replied, “Then give me the dark ages of the world; give me those ages when men received these principles.”3

In West Africa, where we are currently serving, we feel His Spirit being poured out in rich abundance upon the faithful Saints. In 1989 a storm hit Ghana—not a storm of wind or rain, but a storm of persecution, slander, and misunderstandings. It was a trying time; the Church was new there. All of our non-African missionaries were required to leave the country. Our meetinghouses were locked and guarded so that they could not be used by the members. The Saints could not gather together, so they worshiped as families in their own homes. Some members were arrested and even imprisoned. This period of time is referred to as “the freeze.” Members had little contact or support from the outside Church, but they were not left on their own to weather the storm. They had the scriptures and the words of the prophets; they put their trust and faith in the Lord, and He poured out His Spirit upon them. One member of the Church said: “We had the Spirit of the Lord with us; we could feel Him guiding and directing us. We drew closer to one another, and we drew nearer to the Savior.”
For 18 months the Saints fasted and prayed for the day when the freeze would end. In November of 1990, the ban was lifted. The worst of the storm had passed, but it had taken its toll. There were those who had fallen away. Their roots had been shallow and their foundation weak. The foundation of the Church in Ghana today is built on the faith of those who weathered the storm. They were deeply rooted in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Quite often my mom and I sat up late at night talking about anything and everything. Right before I left for boot camp, we were having one of those late-night talks. We discussed how important it was that I keep my standards high and not give in to some of the temptations I might face. She asked me right then if I would promise her that I would not pick up swearing while at boot camp. I made her that promise, even though I knew it might be hard to keep because of the environment I would be in.
On June 12, I arrived at the San Diego, California, Marine Corps recruit depot. Right from the start, any identity we had was taken away. We all wore the same uniforms, wore the same brown horn-rimmed glasses, and had the same haircut, which was no hair! We were not allowed to refer to ourselves as “I” or “me.” We were to say “this recruit” when speaking about ourselves.
We got about five hours of sleep a night. We were on the go 19 hours a day. Part of the time we were in classes. Other times we were running or learning to march, and the rest of the time we were in the field learning things like martial arts, takedowns, and bayonet training. I had three drill instructors and one senior drill instructor, who was as big as a horse. His neck and biceps were the size of tree trunks.
One day my platoon of 83 recruits was in the field doing a drill. One recruit, who was the “enemy,” tried to take our rifles away. We had to fight to prevent him from getting it. Once we had control of our rifle, we were told to point it at the enemy and yell, “Get down, _____!” calling him a profane name.
As I stood there in line waiting for my turn and watching one recruit after another do the drill, I thought about the promise I had made to my mom. It would be easy to give in just this once and talk like a “real” marine. But I knew it would be wrong. I had made a promise, and now I was being put to the test. It was finally my turn. I fought the enemy, got control of my rifle, pointed it at him, and yelled, “Get down!”
My drill instructors stopped the drill and yelled at me to do it again the right way and say what they told me to say. I did the drill again, pointed the rifle at the other recruit, and yelled, “Get down!” Suddenly I had two drill instructors in my face, yelling and screaming at me. My senior drill instructor came over and stood half an inch from my face and yelled at me to obey the order I was given and do the drill the way I was ordered to do it.
It was now crunch time. Do I give in or stand up for what I know is right and keep the promise? I stood at attention and said, “This recruit does not swear, sir!” Everyone went silent.
There was not a sound as all eyes went back and forth between me and my four drill instructors. I didn’t know what would happen to me next. I wondered if I’d be harassed by all the recruits or commanded to do 5,000 push-ups. Finally my senior drill instructor burst out laughing. Everyone else started laughing as well. The drill instructors began joking with me and coming up with other words that I could say instead. I didn’t get in any trouble for keeping my promise. When it was all over, I felt relieved and thankful that I had done the right thing.

Jeremy’s latest endeavor will help thousands see. For his recently completed Eagle service project, Jeremy was responsible for collecting over 2,000 pairs of used glasses to send to an optometry school, which would then catalog them and send them to Central and South America.

But just as Jeremy helped many people with his Eagle project, many helped Jeremy complete it. Jeremy created over 3,000 flyers, which the Scouts in his troop helped deliver. Soon both local and national papers picked up the story, and Jeremy was receiving glasses from all over the country. The Los Angeles Temple sent a box of glasses left by patrons over the years, and a car rental company sent a crateful of glasses that had been left in their cars. Encouraging letters accompanied many of the offerings.

“It was so great hearing from all those people,” Jeremy says. “I can’t believe so many would respond. Every time the doorbell rang, Dad would look at me and say, ‘More glasses!’”

Even though the home was finished, Kiconco knew the family didn’t have any furniture. In fact, they had never owned beds or even blankets. Kiconco wanted to help but didn’t know what else to do, because they had sent all of the money they had raised, and there weren’t any more jobs for them to do to raise money. Then Kiconco told her mom, “I think you might need to take the money from my savings account and go and buy them three beds so they don’t have to sleep on the cold cement floor.”
The next morning, Kiconco’s mom prepared to go to the bank but felt she should wait for the mail to come before she went. When the mail finally came, to Kiconco’s surprise, she found two envelopes that each had a check donating to the project. Kiconco’s mom says, “We opened the mail, looked at each other, and laughed. We almost did a dance!” Now, Kiconco had just enough money to buy furniture for the family. She says, “I knew God was helping me.”
Kiconco immediately sent the money to her uncle, who bought the family three beds, blankets, a table, and chairs.
When the truck pulled up with the furniture, the family was so happy and grateful. Kiconco’s mom says, “Even after they moved in, they felt like it was a dream. They were just amazed at the whole thing.”

Ulisses:
When I was called to serve as bishop, I had to think if I would be able to fulfill my duties at home and with my calling. Emilia and I talked about it and we realized that we could do this together if we put our trust in God.
Serving my family has always spiritually uplifted me. Although we do not have as much alone time as a couple, we are close to each other spiritually. We are closer as a family. The whole time we have seen the hand of the Lord helping us. He has showed us miracle after miracle. We are truly blessed.

Every year the eighth graders in my middle school get to choose what their graduation colors, flowers, and theme will be. They also get to decide what the basic style of the girls’ and boys’ outfits will be so that pictures will look nice and consistent.
My year, when all the girls got together to discuss what style their dresses would be, I was a little nervous. I was concerned about how I could make the other girls understand that I’d chosen not to wear short skirts or spaghetti straps, even if that was the style chosen. I didn’t want to ruin the pictures, but I also wouldn’t choose to be immodest.
Then something amazing happened. Before I had an opportunity to express my concerns, a girl in my class shouted, “It has to have sleeves and go at least to our knees because Abby needs to dress that way.” Before I could blink, everyone decided on short-sleeved, knee-length dresses. I could hardly believe what had happened. I’m so thankful that I’ve always lived the standards and set a positive example for those around me. Because I chose to dress modestly, others noticed and were respectful of my decision.
Abby H., California, USA

A 16-year-old Laurel sat in a Sunday School class listening to a teacher. It was Easter time, and the teacher had prepared a lesson on the Atonement. Speaking about the suffering the Savior had endured, he talked about what it meant to bleed at every pore, to be scourged, and to suffer on the cross. The young woman had never thought about the Atonement in such detail. There came into her mind a mental image. More than 25 years later, she spoke emotionally about the experience: “On that day the Holy Ghost testified to me that Jesus is the Christ.”

My mother died when I was just a year and a half old. I was too young to remember much about her, and my father didn’t talk about her. I know from pictures of her, and from talking with my uncles, that she was a beautiful woman both physically and spiritually. I missed her every day of my young life.
After Mother died, I lived with my grandmother while my father taught school and moved from town to town. Then when I was eight years old, my father, who had remarried, wanted me returned to him. I found myself with a father I didn’t know, and a stepmother and two baby sisters that I didn’t know. Later two younger brothers were added to the family.
I had a difficult time adjusting to a new family. Part of it may have been my fault, but I never did feel accepted. What’s worse, my father was a very strict individual, given to almost insane rages. This did not contribute to family harmony or communication. I can’t say that our life was a very happy one.
It’s been many years since those childhood days. I’ve grown up and have spent my professional life as a pilot, in part providing emergency flights for infants that are seriously ill or injured. It’s a career that demands a practical approach to life. I don’t think anybody could call me over-imaginative or given to hallucinations. I’ve always figured a fact is a fact is a fact.
And the fact is, when I was 13, we were living in a small town, and my bedroom was a little lean-to that was built on the back of the house. I had been physically injured, hurt, and was very, very depressed. That night I lay in bed and cried and prayed. I wanted my mother.
In the quiet darkness, she visited me. I felt her influence. I saw her and she said, “Do not despair. You are deeply loved.” Then she was gone.
I will never forget those words. There was a calm. I felt better and went to sleep.
The next morning I didn’t dare tell anybody what had happened. I was afraid I’d be ridiculed or possibly even punished. I’ve never told anyone about this until today.
And yet this memory has stayed with me through my entire life. The mother I never knew penetrated the veil between our world and the other world. I know a mother’s love is strong enough to do this, because I have experienced it.