Gospel Story Finder

Rachel is already in the Beehive class in Young Women. But her birthday is in January, so she is still in Primary for class time.
She used to feel sad that she didn’t get to go to Sunday School with the girls who were a few months older. One reason she feels better about it now is that her Primary class is studying the Doctrine and Covenants. “It’s really interesting, and that helps keep me from thinking about not being in Sunday School,” Rachel says.
Rachel is also happy that she can still be in Primary class with her friend Marissa. “If I had moved on completely, she would have been left in a class with no other girls,” Rachel says.

Sunny is an exchange student from Korea. She is living in a strange new land with a new language and a new family. School was hard and she had no friends to eat with or talk with or go to school activities with. She said: “I felt so miserable. Then I started thinking about praying. I had not thought about praying for help to Heavenly Father and for comfort and faith in myself. Then I began to read the Book of Mormon every morning and pray before I went to school. School began to be much easier. I was so surprised that I could understand better! I felt like someone was helping me while I was studying” (letter in possession of Young Women office).

Anders soon wanted to share the gospel with others, so he invited friends and relatives into his home to hear about the wonderful new religion. His father-in-law, the mailman, and some neighbors believed and asked to be baptized.
“I’m not sure if I can baptize you,” Anders replied. “I’ll have to go to the mission president in Sweden to see if I have the authority to do so.”
Since such a trip by boat was expensive, those he had been teaching helped contribute the money that he needed to go to Sweden, where he was ordained an elder.
At Larsmo, in July 1946, Finland was rededicated to the preaching of the gospel, and in 1947 this country opened her doors to those religions that wished to establish missions.
Not long afterward, the Finland Mission was organized. Now in 1972 there are 23 branches of the Church there.
Because of Anders’ courage in worshiping God in the manner he believed to be right, many of his children and grandchildren, as well as friends and neighbors, are now members of the Church. The first branch president in the Finland Mission was Anselm Stromberg, grandson of Anders Johansson Stromberg, the latter name being added when it became necessary for everyone in Finland to choose a last name.

Although she came from a family with few resources, Sister Patience Ngalula, from Kananga, DRC, had a passion to be a journalist. She finished her secondary studies and then volunteered to work without pay at a radio/television station. She learned many things, and after one year she was hired at a radio station. She then had funds to help her family and to complete her professional studies. “I now have a very good job at a radio station in Kinshasa whose content is especially dedicated to children. I remain positive, ready to serve and have great concern for the well-being of others.”

Twenty-six years after the experience with my father, I continued to learn important lessons through a father-and-son relationship. The exterior woodwork of our home was in need of redecoration. I cleaned and prepared the surface and applied an undercoat. In my mind I could visualize the flawless gloss finish that would be the product of my labors. Our five-year-old son, Kevin, watched as I prepared to apply the final gloss covering. He asked if he could help me. I hesitated before responding, considering what effect this would have on the fulfillment of my dream, or alternatively how he would feel if I declined his offer. It was almost as if I heard someone else say, “That would be a great help. Thank you.”
After I provided him with an old shirt of mine that covered him completely, almost touching the floor and with sleeves rolled back several times, we went to work on the door that secured the main entrance to our home. He was applying paint to the bottom panel as I worked on the top section. I noticed that because of his age and physical stature, he wasn’t able to spread the paint evenly and that beads of paint were resulting. Each time he bent down to recharge his brush, I would hastily smooth out the paint on the bottom panel, returning to my assigned area so that he would not realize what I was doing. After a while I decided that more important than a first-class paint job was the opportunity to work with my son. On reflection I realized how well he was doing. Thereafter, every time I approached the door and saw the distinctive style of decoration, I was reminded of what is really important in our lives.

These intrepid pioneers were waiting for apostolic direction on how and when they would be heading further west. Everyone’s plans were altered when Brigham Young, the President of the Quorum of the Twelve, issued a call for men to volunteer to serve in the United States Army in what came to be known as the Mormon Battalion.

Robert Harris Jr. was one of over 500 Mormon pioneer men who responded to that call from Brigham Young. He enlisted, even though it meant he would leave behind his pregnant wife and six little children.

Why would he and the other men do such a thing?

The answer can be given in my great-great-grandfather’s own words. In a letter that he wrote to his wife when the battalion was on its way to Santa Fe, he wrote, “My faith is so strong as ever [and when I think of the things that Brigham Young told us], I believe it about the same as if the Great God had told me.”

In short, he knew he was listening to a prophet of God, as did the other men. That is why they did it! They knew they were led by a prophet of God.

In that same letter, he expressed his tender feelings for his wife and children and told of his constant prayers that she and the children would be blessed.

Later in the letter, he made this powerful statement: “We must not forget the things which you and I heard and [experienced] in the Temple of the Lord.”

Combined with his earlier testimony that “we are led by a Prophet of God,” these two sacred admonitions have become like scripture to me.

Eighteen months after departing with the battalion, Robert Harris was safely reunited with his beloved Maria. They stayed true and faithful to the restored gospel throughout their lives. They had 15 children, 13 of whom lived to maturity. My grandmother Fannye Walker, of Raymond, Alberta, Canada, was one of their 136 grandchildren.

Since childhood, I dreamed of serving a mission. As I got older, however, my perspective on life began to change, and prioritizing my family’s well-being became the most important. With the responsibility to support us, I watched my mother shouldering the care for me, my brother, and my three other younger siblings—Winyordy, Drey, and Ros—‚without the assistance of my stepfather, who had previously filled that role. It was solely her and me, with the guidance of our Heavenly Father, providing for the family. I understood that I was an essential pillar in supporting the family. Nevertheless, despite knowing the hardship it would bring her, my mother encouraged me to pursue my mission.
Throughout my life, my mother always reminded me that God always knows what is best for me. But it wasn’t until one day at work that I really listened to her. I felt like I was wasting my time there and had a strong feeling I should go on a mission. Even though friends and Church leaders had told me before to follow my heart, I hadn’t wanted to admit it. When I got home, I told my mom, “I’m going to serve a mission.”
She was excited and surprised and completely supported my decision.
I was called to serve in the Dominican Republic Santiago Mission. Incredibly, while there, I have become reacquainted with Elder Jean Louis, the first missionary who taught us the gospel. God’s timing is perfect, and when you put God first, everything else will come as a result.

While serving as a mission leader in Japan some years ago, I attended a weekend conference in a rural city in one of the far corners of our mission. The district president had arranged for me to conduct an interview with a man who had joined the Church a year earlier and was seeking to receive a temple recommend. He hoped to receive his own endowment on or close to the one-year anniversary of his baptism.
During our conversation, this new member described how deeply grateful he was for the bounteous blessings he had received in the year since he was baptized. He enjoyed attending weekly sacrament and other meetings. He became deeply involved in the activities of his branch. To me, he exuded a covenant confidence resulting from understanding his gospel purpose, which was now an integral part of him. He was a converted disciple of Christ who had experienced a mighty change of heart (see Mosiah 5:2).
The rest of our conversation followed a hopeful pattern. We discussed the ordinances and covenants that would be part of his temple experience. He affirmatively answered each of the standard questions associated with receiving a temple recommend.
Following the interview, I recall commenting to the district president how grateful I was to meet such an outstanding man. I told him how impressed I was that the missionaries and members had found, and spiritually nurtured, someone of such caliber and promise.
I was stunned when the district president shared that when this man began receiving lessons from the missionaries and attending church over a year earlier, he was homeless and in exceedingly difficult—near hopeless—circumstances. The district president then described how this brother’s study of the gospel and his conversion over a period of months led to his miraculous change, putting him on a path of both spiritual and temporal self-reliance and giving him a sense of purpose and joy.
I end where I began, recalling my experience years ago with a recent convert in Japan. Through his diligence and the diligence of missionaries and members, he found the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. In finding the gospel, he also discovered his purpose, which expanded his vision. He also found the great plan of happiness. Obedience to the plan’s gospel covenants brought him blessings and joy, lifting him temporally and spiritually.
His journey leading to membership in the Church of Jesus Christ allowed him to become a witness of Jesus Christ. Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has described the joy that follows:
“Because of the loving plan of our Heavenly Father for each of His children, and because of the redeeming life and mission of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, we can—and should—be the most joyful people on earth! Even as the storms of life in an often-troubled world pound upon us, we can cultivate a growing and abiding sense of joy and inner peace because of our hope in Christ and our understanding of our own place in the beautiful plan of happiness.”

When I went to Delaware this summer, my papa and I took his dog Kayla for a walk at a bird sanctuary. We walked so far into the woods that we got lost. We tried for hours to find our way back to the car. We thought we might have to build a shelter and sleep there because it was getting dark. The Holy Ghost prompted Papa to let Kayla off the leash, and she would lead us back to the car. Papa listened, and we found our way out of the woods. I know that if we listen to the Holy Ghost we will be blessed.

Having been raised in a competitive and non-religious Asian country, I have always had a great desire to become a successful person, but I didn’t have any eternal principles or truths to guide me. In my country, “successful” meant being rich and powerful.
My parents always taught me that there was no such thing as God. For them, religion or God was a bunch of nonsense and only for weak people. For a long time I considered myself atheist. They taught me that I shouldn’t trust anyone but myself. So from a young age I have used my high ambitions as motivation to study and work extremely hard.
My parents had high expectations for me. They wanted me to keep my grades high at all times. It made me sad to see their disappointed faces or to hear them argue with each other when I got a bad grade. Along with my regular schoolwork, I would also have to do extra homework on the weekend so I could keep an A average.
Even after accomplishing goals I had set, I still felt that there was something more in store for my life. Deep in my heart, I knew that surely there had to be more to it.
One day I decided I was going to find out for myself if there really was a God. If He did exist, I wanted to know what He wanted for me or if religion was just a bunch of nonsense created by the imagination of human beings. I was not afraid to receive either one of these two answers. I just wanted the truth.
Around that same time, I became close friends with one of my basketball teammates named Taylor. One morning I asked him for a ride to school. He said yes, but I would have to get up an hour earlier to go to seminary with him. I reluctantly said yes, not knowing what it was. I enjoyed seminary, though more because of what I felt than what I learned.
Soon after that, Taylor asked me to go to church with him. At first I thought church was a little boring and weird, but eventually I was moved by the warm and peaceful feeling that I felt at the service.
However, I still wasn’t persuaded that the good feeling had anything to do with God. How did I know that it didn’t come from myself? How did I know that I didn’t make myself feel that way?
After many internal debates, I went to Taylor’s mom in search of answers. She told me that I could receive my answers by reading the scriptures and praying about the answers that I was looking for. I prayed without receiving any answers and struggled to obey the rules and commandments that I was learning about. I became frustrated many times. I expected a marvelous and dramatic appearance of God or some sort of miraculous event to prove that God was real. Basically, I wanted an unshakable testimony all at once. The truth is, the more I prayed, the more clarity I felt in my life. The more I followed the commandments, the happier I became. The more I read the scriptures, the more revelation I received. Gradually, my testimony increased, like the rising sun in the morning.
It took me two years to decide to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Though I lived many good moral standards and principles before, I can now say that I have found the eternal and ultimate truth: God lives. Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. The heavens are open. A prophet of God walks the earth today. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. God really does forgive all repentant sinners. I may not be as smart or as gifted as other people, but the knowledge I have is priceless.

President Heber J. Grant tells of a different type of reward that comes from trusting in the Lord. When he was a young man, he heard his bishop in a fast meeting, which was then held on Thursdays (in the early days, we held our fast meetings on Thursdays), make a strong appeal for donations. At that time President Grant had $50 in his pocket which he intended to deposit in the bank. But he was so impressed by his bishop’s appeal that he tendered the whole $50 to the bishop. The bishop took $5 and handed him back $45, stating that $5 was his full share. Then President Grant replied, “Bishop Wooley, by what right do you rob me of putting the Lord in my debt? Didn’t you preach here today that the Lord rewards fourfold? My mother is a widow and she needs two hundred dollars.”

“My boy,” queried the bishop, “do you believe that if I take this other forty-five dollars you will get your two hundred dollars quicker?”

“Certainly,” replied President Grant.

Now here was an expression of trust in the Lord which the bishop could not withstand. He took the remaining $45.

President Grant testified that on his way back to work, “an idea popped” into his head, acting upon which he made $218.50. Speaking on this incident years later, he said, “Someone will say that it would have happened anyway.

“I do not think it would have happened. I do not think I would have got the idea.

“I am a firm believer that the Lord opens up the windows of heaven when we do our duty financially and pours out blessings upon us of a spiritual nature, which are of far greater value than temporal things. But I believe He also gives us blessings of a temporal nature.” (Improvement Era 42:457.)

As most of you are aware, I am a convert to the Church, having been baptized in Tokyo, Japan, back in 1952 while serving in the U.S. Navy during the Korean conflict. I was born and reared in Missouri, where much of the early history of this church took place. But I had never heard anything about the Mormon church. I was looking for the truth, and although I had read the Bible and believed that Jesus Christ had lived on the earth and had been resurrected, yet I had so many unanswered questions—questions such as: Why doesn’t God speak to man today as he did anciently when the Bible was being written? How can Jesus be his own father and the Holy Ghost too? Why did Jesus have to be baptized when he had no sin? Where was I before I was born, and where do I go when I die? How can just believing in Christ save me when I haven’t kept God’s Ten Commandments?

I knew there must be answers that I had not heard. The answers came when Elders Ted Raban and Ronald Flygare knocked on my door in San Diego, California, in July 1951. My wife, Connie, let them in and accepted a copy of the Book of Mormon from them. I was in Hawaii at the time, attending a fourteen-week training course preparatory to deployment to Korea.

When I returned home, Connie gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I began to read. I knew the book was true before I had finished 2 Nephi—Nephi had converted one more—and began to attend church in the old Valencia Park Ward in San Diego. Because of my preparation for deployment, I was not able to study and attend church as I wanted to and longed for the time when I could. The time came aboard the aircraft carrier Philippine Seas, where I read fourteen of the best books that have ever been written. They included the standard works of the Church, plus the writings of each of the Presidents of the Church from Joseph Smith, Jr., to David O. McKay, plus Parley P. and Orson Pratt and a few others. I was like a starving man who had found food and drink for the first time. I loved it. When we arrived in Japan, the LDS group aboard ship decided I should be baptized. So we traveled to the Tokyo mission home, where I requested baptism. I was informed that I had not been an investigator for the required one-year time period; therefore, I could not be baptized. However, I persisted. I asked to be interviewed. The interview took an hour and a half, but in the end I received a recommend for baptism and confirmation. McDonald B. Johnson, the LDS group leader on the Philippine Seas, baptized me, and Fred Gaylord Peterson confirmed me, and I became a member of the Church on February 26, 1952. I was ordained a deacon that day and subsequently to another office in the priesthood each time the ship returned to Japan, until on July 26, 1952, I was ordained an elder and returned to San Diego in August, where my wife had been baptized on March 1 of that same year. We were a united family in the gospel of Jesus Christ and were looking forward with much anticipation to being sealed together with our three children in the Mesa Arizona Temple, which happened in May 1953.

A few years ago, Sister Joyce Audrey Evans, a young mother in Belfast, Northern Ireland, was having trouble with a pregnancy. She went to the hospital, where one of the nurses told her she would probably lose the baby. Sister Evans replied: “But I can’t give up. … You have to give me hope.” Sister Evans later recalled: “I couldn’t give up hope until all reason for hope was gone. It was something I owed to my unborn child.”

Three days later she had a miscarriage. She wrote: “For one long moment, I felt nothing. Then a profound feeling of peace flowed through me. With the peace came understanding. I knew now why I couldn’t give up hope in spite of all the circumstances: you either live in hope or you live in despair. Without hope, you cannot endure to the end. I had looked for an answer to prayers and was not disappointed; I was healed in body and rewarded with a spirit of peace. Never before had I felt so close to my Heavenly Father; never before had I felt such peace. …

“The miracle of peace was not the only blessing to come from this experience. Some weeks later, I fell to thinking about the child I had lost. The Spirit brought to my mind the words from Genesis 4:25 [Gen. 4:25]: ‘And she bare a son, and called his name Seth: For God, said she, hath appointed me another seed. …’

“A few months later, I became pregnant again. When my son was born, he was declared to be ‘perfect.’” He was named Evan Seth.

Heading into downtown La Paz, Bolivia, it was getting dark when rocks began hitting our bus. Through the windows we could see angry people in the streets, throwing rocks and putting up barriers to stop the traffic. Our bus continued moving swiftly to the center of town. That night was the start of a revolution in Bolivia.

We got off the bus and began looking for a hotel. The only one we could find was very expensive, but after repeating my explanation to a good man who worked there, he boarded us in the hotel’s cleaning supply room very cheaply. He placed a mattress on the ?oor and gave us blankets to protect us from the cold and the sounds of gunfire that echoed outside all night.

We left early the next morning, frightened and hurried. On our way to the bus stop, we saw soldiers supported by tanks firing ri?es at those protesting the revolution.
Fuel was beginning to run scarce, and instead of three bus departures a day as usual, only one was being announced. The seats had sold out days in advance. I found the manager and said the words I had used with everyone else: “Sir, we are Mormons, and we are going to the temple to get married. And you can help us.” He asked, “Where do you need to go?” “Cochabamba, sir.” He opened a drawer and pulled out two tickets. I could see there were no more. “Hurry up,” he said, “the bus is about to leave.” Our suitcases seemed weightless, and our feet barely touched the ground—in our hands we held that day’s blessing.

We arrived in Cochabamba amidst more chaos from the revolution. We found a market filled with tents, where a kind fellow Peruvian let us wash up and then store our suitcases while we went to the bus terminal. Using our same plea, we made it standby onto another bus and arrived days later in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, near the Brazilian border. For three mornings, I went to the train station to ask if there would be any departures. The answer was always no. But on the fourth day, news spread that a train would be leaving soon for Brazil.

By this point, we were running out of money. I shared my concerns with my wife, who ?rmly replied, “Even if we have to arrive by foot or on the back of a donkey, we’re going to make it.” Her reply made me happy. I wasn’t unsettled about money for the rest of the trip because our confidence was placed in our faith.

As we talked, an old lady walked toward us. She stopped in front of my wife and said, “Young lady, wouldn’t you like two tickets for today?” My wife practically ripped the tickets out of her hand. I paid the old woman, and she vanished among the crowd. It took us a few seconds to realize that the Lord and His angels were still by our side.

When we finally arrived at the São Paulo Temple thanks to one last ride from a friend we made on the train, the temple lodging was closed. Resigned but happy, we made ourselves comfortable on a couple of benches outside the temple. There it was, just as beautiful as we had dreamed it would be. It was now midnight, and we cried as we hugged, tired and wet from the falling rain. We didn’t feel the dampness, the hunger, or the cold, just an indescribable sense of happiness for being so close to the house of the Lord. We had been obedient, and there was our reward.

While we were basking in that moment, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was one of my former mission companions, who had been sealed in the temple that day and was returning from dinner with his wife. He let us stay in their apartment that night, and the next day he was a witness to our sealing, performed by the temple president himself. How beautiful it was to see my wife in the celestial room, all dressed in white.

With a loan from my missionary friend and help from the temple president, we made the return trip in less than five days, without any delays—and with only $20 dollars to begin a life with my wife, Maria Ondina, as my eternal companion.

Ann was always in a hurry. Wherever she went, she ran. But Ann didn’t always watch where she was going. Sometimes she tripped and bumped into things.
“Look out!” said her big sister.
“Look out!” said her big brother.
“Look out!” said her mother and father.
One day Ann ran to the kitchen. “The apples are ripe on our apple tree!” she shouted.
“Yes,” said Mother. “I was just thinking about making an apple pie.”
“I can help,” said Ann. “I can pick some apples.”
“Good,” said Mother.
Ann ran to the door.
“Don’t forget this,” said Mother, handing her a bucket.
Ann raced into the yard, climbed the tree, and hung her bucket on a branch. Just picking the big red apples made her mouth water.
“Here they are, Mom,” said Ann, rushing into the house. “I’ll wash them for you too.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mother said. “That would really help.”
Mother made one big pie for the family and one little pie for Grandma.
“I’ll take Grandma her pie,” said Ann after the pies were baked and cooled.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mother replied. “But please, Ann, walk slowly and watch where you’re going.”
Ann was so excited that she could hardly wait to surprise her grandmother. She started walking slowly, but soon she was running up the street and around the corner. Faster and faster Ann ran, until—squish—down she went and down went the pie.
The pie was a mess and so was Ann! She had pie on her face and pie in her hair. Worst of all, there was pie all over the ground.
Ann tried to scoop up the pie and put it back into the pan, but it didn’t look like pie anymore. It looked awful!
Maybe Mom can fix it, she thought, starting back toward home. This time she walked slowly, very carefully holding what was left of the poor, squashed pie.
“Oops!” cried her big sister when she saw Ann coming down the street.
“Oops!” shouted her big brother as Ann came up the sidewalk.
“Oops, indeed!” said Mother. The pie went into the garbage, and Ann went into the bathtub.
When Ann was all cleaned up, she ran to the kitchen and stared at the big pie that was left. She was really sorry that she had ruined Grandma’s surprise pie. “Mom, could I give Grandma my piece of pie?” she asked.
Mother smiled and said, “That’s very thoughtful, dear.” She cut an extra large piece of pie, put it on a plate, covered it with foil, and handed it to Ann, saying, “Now, Ann, you must learn that there is a time to walk and a time to run.”
“This is a time to walk—I’ll remember,” Ann promised.
Up the street and around the corner she walked. “Surprise!” called Ann when Grandma opened the door. “Surprise, surprise!”
“Mmmm, that looks good,” Grandma said as she took off the cover and put the piece of pie on the table.
Ann told Grandma the sad story about her little pie. “There was pie in my hair and pie on my nose and pie on the ground and pie on my clothes.”
Grandma laughed. “Goodness, you just made a rhyme. Now, this is such a large piece of pie, maybe you can help me eat it.”
Ann smiled. “I’d like that.”
They each had a glass of milk and half of the large piece of pie. It was delicious.
When Ann was ready to leave, Grandma told her, “Be sure to tell your mother that I loved the surprise.”
“Thank you, Grandma, for sharing your pie with me,” said Ann.
“Everything is better when we share,” Grandma said.
Ann hugged Grandma and said, “It really is, Grandma.”

A small Vietnamese woman struggles to lift a frozen turkey out of the supermarket freezer. Her husband examines it and with an ear-splitting grin turns to the two young American girls standing beside him. “Chicken?” he asks. The group bursts into giggles. The two girls try to explain in simplified English that this large fowl is not a super species of chicken but is a turkey.
The girls are from the Riverside Stake in Salt Lake City, Utah. As a stake service project, they are sponsoring a Vietnamese family. One of their tasks has been to introduce the family to an American supermarket. “Our first trip to the grocery store was definitely memorable,” said Laurie Sperry, Center First Ward. “We did a lot of laughing.”
The job of sponsoring a refugee family involved many of the young women. They helped in the search for a suitable place for the family to live, in gathering clothes and bedding, in enrolling the children in school, and in giving the small family a tour of the city. One of their stops was at Temple Square for a showing of “Man’s Search for Happiness” presented in Vietnamese. The girls introduced the children to some unique American celebrations such as Halloween, helping them with costumes and taking them trick-or-treating.
“Even though we couldn’t communicate in words,” said Laurie, “we could feel their gratitude.”
The girls of the Riverside Stake tasted the sweetness of service. And what started as a service project has turned into a caring, helping relationship between friends.

Seth is running a dairy farm for his grandfather, who is in the hospital. When Grandpa’s best cow has trouble calving, Seth doesn’t know where to turn. His father is busy with the roundup, and Seth is too small to deliver the calf himself. Mrs. Bowers, the telephone switchboard operator, tells him to pray, but he doesn’t even know how to do that. Then two LDS missionaries come calling. One of them, a rancher, delivers the calf and teaches Seth how to pray.
The next two weeks seemed to fly by with the help of Elder Wood, the tall young man from the city, and Elder James, the rancher. Elder Wood kept the house spic and span, and Elder James helped Seth in the barn. As the missionary and the boy worked side by side, Elder James taught him more about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“Elder James,” Seth said one morning as they milked, “I like to pray, and it makes me feel good. But how do I know if I get an answer?”
Elder James continued to milk Sweetie with strong but gentle hands. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “there are several ways. Mostly you start with faith that you’re really talking to your Heavenly Father. Then you learn to know when you get an answer. Some people just feel good, some feel peaceful, and some get ideas. Every person is different, and different problems sometimes require different kinds of answers.”
Seth thought about it. He did feel peaceful when he prayed, and sometimes new thoughts did seem to come into his mind.
Elder James continued. “When I was young, I liked to listen to the testimonies of prophets. I felt that if they could get direct answers to prayer, then I could too.” He carried his bucket of milk to the barn door, covered the bucket, and picked up a clean one. Then he leaned over the stall and looked at the boy for a minute. “Just keep praying and listening for answers,” he said. “It’s kind of like milking. At first it’s hard. You just have to keep trying and gaining strength. Soon, real soon, you get good at it.”
Seth finished milking his cow and stood up. He stretched and turned to the man. “Who were those prophets you were talking about—the ones who got answers to prayer?”
Elder James moved his milking stool next to Seth’s. “Sit down, boy,” he said, “and I’ll tell you about Joseph Smith.”
Seth listened intently. The story he heard filled him with amazement. A boy not much older than he was had actually talked to God and had seen His face! “Do you really believe that?” Seth asked.
“I really believe it.”
“This is important! Why doesn’t everyone know?”
Elder James shook his head sadly. “Not everyone believes that God would talk to a young boy. But He did, and great things have happened as a result.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one thing, Joseph Smith received a record of people who lived on this continent hundreds of years ago. He translated the record and had it published in a book.”
“I’d like to see that book,” Seth said eagerly. “Do you have a copy?”
“Yes I do, and I’ll give it to you.”
Seth couldn’t even speak for a moment. Books were very expensive in Wyoming in the 1920s. “Th-Thank you,” he stammered. “Will you tell me more about it, please?”
They moved over to the last two cows, and as they milked, Elder James told him story after story from the Book of Mormon. Seth couldn’t seem to hear enough. “What happened to all those people?” Seth asked as they strained the milk.
“Well, the Nephites were all killed in battle. Some of the Indians in North and South America are what’s left of the Lamanites.”
Seth stared at him. “Really? Do they know that they’re the Lamanites?”
Elder James laughed. “Some—those who have read the book—do. It touches something inside of them. It’s very close to the traditions of their fathers.”
After the Elders left, Seth had so much to think about that he forgot to call his family. When the telephone rang, he jumped.
“Are you all right, Seth?” his mother’s worried voice asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just forgot to call.”
“Is everything ready for Grandpa?”
“Everything’s ready.”
Grandpa was coming home from the hospital the next day. Seth and the Elders had made sure that everything was clean and shiny. Elder Wood had even baked a cake, and it sat on the pantry shelf, covered with a clean cloth.
“We’ll be over after supper tomorrow,” Mom promised. “It’ll be good to see you, son. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, Mom,” he said, and his voice got husky. Up till now, he’d been too busy to be homesick.
“I love you, Seth,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
When Grandma’s Model T came up the dusty road, Seth was waiting on the porch. It was wonderful to see them! Grandma bustled around and helped Grandpa out of the car. Seth got hugs from both of them before he carried in their bags and parcels.
“My, it’s good to be home!” Grandma said. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep or a good meal since we left.”
“Me either!” Grandpa whispered weakly and chuckled.
Seth saw the twinkle in Grandpa’s eye and felt comforted. Grandpa was still Grandpa, even if his body seemed different. Seth helped get Grandpa settled in bed, then pulled a chair up to the bed and began his report on the farm.
“Sweetie’s giving more milk than ever!” he announced proudly. “And her calf is going to be as good as she is.” Then he told Grandpa about the missionaries helping with the farm.
“Who are these missionaries?” Grandpa asked with a scowl. “I don’t like strangers messing around with my animals.”
“They’ll be here this afternoon, and you can meet them. You’ll like them,” Seth promised. He ran out of the room and returned with his Book of Mormon. “While you’re waiting, you can read this book they left me. It’s about Jesus Christ.”
Grandpa continued to scowl. “It’s not the Bible! I don’t want to read it!”
“It’s really interesting,” Seth said, ignoring the scowl. “There’s a story about a good king named Benjamin. He worked as a farmer so the people wouldn’t have to support him.”
Grandpa’s gray brows came together, and Seth could tell that he was thinking. “Well, that does sound interesting. It just might be a good book—but it’s not the Bible!”
“They believe and use the Bible, too,” Seth explained. Then he left the bedroom so that Grandpa could rest. As he shut the door, he saw Grandpa opening the cover of the book.
(To be concluded)

The Thomas J. Pappas Elementary School in Phoenix, Arizona, isn’t a typical school. At the end of the day, students don’t go home, because they don’t have homes. After school, the buses drop them off at various homeless shelters, old hotels, or even under bridges.
When the stake youth committee of the Mesa Central Stake learned about this school, they wanted to do something for the students. They wanted to give them a day of fun and activities, so they planned a carnival with games, sports, and food. But the youth of the stake found that they gained much more than they gave.
On the morning of the activity, anticipation was high. What would students from a homeless school be like? What would they talk about? How would they act?
The youth from the stake were each partnered with a student from the school as a “buddy,” or mentor, for the day. After eating breakfast with their new friends, everyone was divided into groups to rotate through the different activities.
Most of the youth who participated in this activity had the same observation—in their efforts to give, they had received. They came away from the activity more grateful for their blessings. In their efforts to provide a day of entertainment for homeless children, they learned a valuable lesson in gratitude.

In October 1976, directors of the Church Educational System offered Inosi a job as coordinator of the seminary program in Fiji. He hesitated to accept the position until Joseph Sokia, director of the Church Educational System in Fiji, told him, “If you accept the seminary job, you will have the chance to change the lives of our young people.”
That touched Inosi. He remembered that his district president had asked him once in an interview whether he would be willing to work full-time for the Church if he was needed. Inosi had said he would. Now was the time to keep that commitment.
Leaving government employment after twelve years was hard; Inosi lost his pension, his government benefits, and his opportunities for overseas travel. “But I knew I needed to go,” he says. Some of Inosi’s extended family and some people of his village were frustrated with his decision. They were proud of Inosi’s government position and told him he was making a mistake. But Maryann supported him, telling him, “Wherever you take us, we will follow.”
When Inosi resigned from his job, he asked to be paid for the leave that was due to him rather than taking the days off. Because her husband would have to travel frequently in his new assignment, Maryann also resigned from her job and asked to be paid for the leave that she had earned. When the couple added that money to what they had already saved, they found it was enough to take them and their daughters to the temple.
“When we got on the plane,” Brother Naga says, “I had 102 New Zealand dollars in my pocket. That was all our money. We didn’t know how we were going to pay our living expenses for the two weeks we would be in New Zealand.”
But Church members met the Nagas at the airport, arranged for lodging in a member’s home, and provided food and transportation.
“After we came back from the temple, the Lord blessed us,” Brother Naga says. “Not only were we able to buy furniture, we were able to extend our house.”
On 12 June 1983, Elder Howard W. Hunter created the Suva Fiji Stake and called Inosi as its first president. “I didn’t know what to say, because I think there were men who were more capable of fulfilling the calling,” he remembers. “But I am grateful to have been able to serve my brothers and sisters on this island. It has been a great privilege and opportunity.”
Shortly afterward, President Naga was interviewed to be associate area director of the Church Educational System. When he declined because he did not feel he had the proper education or qualifications to serve well in that position, his supervisor, Robert Perrington, disagreed. “I’ve been sitting up all night thinking about this,” he said. “At four o’clock this morning your name came clearly to me.”
President Naga went home to consult his wife. After the couple prayed for some time, Maryann said, “You go back and tell Brother Perrington that if the Brethren want you to do it, you will do it.”
President Naga has been blessed as he carries out his responsibilities. “When the Lord calls you to a position,” he says, “he provides a way for you to fulfill it.”
Now, nine years later, Inosi Naga oversees the Church Educational System in Fiji, New Caledonia, Vanuatu, and Tuvalu. He was recently released as stake president, and now serves as the Church’s Fiji Public Affairs director. Maryann is ward Primary president, and the six Naga children—Ana, twenty-two; Emily, twenty; Keresi, eighteen; Vilimaina, fifteen; Leua, thirteen; and Inosi, nine—are growing up knowing the strength that the gospel can bring to a family.
In the few short years since Inosi Naga received that book from the missionaries, his life and those of his family have been changed eternally. The elders were right—the book was golden.

In 1993, I was married and had one child. One day at work, a secretary took a Book of Mormon to the office, placed it near a glass, and left it. She did not tell me what the book was about, but I was curious. I decided to keep the book. Around the same time, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints started visiting my mother. One day, while visiting her house, the missionaries knocked on her door, and I happened to answer it. As we visited, they asked if they could see my family too. My spouse and I agreed.
At our first meeting, I was surprised to learn that this religion had a book called the Book of Mormon. It contained over a thousand years of history and told the story of Jesus Christ coming to the Americas, paralleling the time period of the Bible. I read the entire book in four days and felt immense joy. I knew with certainty that it was the book I longed for, that God and Jesus Christ loved everyone, even those of us who live in the Americas.