Gospel Story Finder

When Brandon arrived at his grandparents’ home to spend the day, he hugged Grandma hello, said goodbye to his mom, and pulled off his jacket. Then he quietly peeked into the living room to find Grandpa.
Grandpa was sitting in his favorite chair, reading the newspaper in his pajamas and robe.
Brandon ran to the middle of the room and yelled, “Boo!”
Grandpa jumped and dropped the paper into his lap. “Who are you?”
Brandon giggled. “I’m Brandon.”
Grandpa laughed. “You’re not Brandon. You’re too big. My Brandon is little. He sucks his thumb and always has his blanket with him.”
Brandon laughed. “That’s when I was a baby. I’m bigger now.” He stretched as tall as he could. “I can do a somersault.”
“You can’t do a somersault,” Grandpa said. “You don’t know how.”
“Yes I do,” Brandon insisted. “Watch.” He did a somersault right there on the living room carpet.
Grandpa clapped. “That’s wonderful! Come and give your old grandpa a hug.”
Brandon ran across the room and threw his arms around Grandpa.
“My Brandon gives better hugs than that,” Grandpa said.
Brandon squeezed him tighter. Then Brandon giggled and said, “You’re not my grandpa. My grandpa doesn’t wear glasses.”
Grandpa took off his glasses.
“And my grandpa doesn’t have a prickly face.”
“Is that so?” Grandpa said. He folded his newspaper and led the way to the bathroom, where he spread shaving cream over his cheeks and chin. With each stroke of the razor, more of his face appeared. When he finished, he wiped his face with a towel and asked Brandon, “Do I look like your grandpa now?”
“You look like him,” Brandon answered, “except that my grandpa wears regular clothes.”
“Give me a minute, and I’ll find some.”
Grandpa stopped in the hallway. “Have you checked the bird feeders? My Brandon always checks the bird feeders.”
“No,” Brandon answered. “I’ll do it right now.”
Brandon ran to the dining room and knelt on a chair by the window. A tiny green bird was at the sugar-water feeder. The bird’s wings moved so fast that Brandon couldn’t see them.
Grandpa came in and watched the bird with Brandon. After the bird flew away, Grandpa asked, “Did you like that robin?”
“That was a hummingbird,” Brandon answered.
“My Brandon calls them robins,” Grandpa said.
“Not any more,” Brandon insisted. “You told me the birds that use that feeder are hummingbirds.”
Grandpa laughed. “They are hummingbirds, but you’re not my Brandon.”
Brandon jumped off the chair. “Yes, I am your Brandon. I’ll show you I am.” He pulled Grandpa to the workshop in the garage and picked up a wooden box without a top. “This is the birdhouse we’re making. Here’s the first nail I pounded. See, it’s crooked. And this is the brown paint we bought to paint it with.”
“Well,” Grandpa said, “you know a lot of things my Brandon would know. But my Brandon likes to go to the park on a nice day like today.”
“I am your Brandon, and I want to go to the park.”
“Are you sure you’re my Brandon? I don’t want to go to the park with a stranger.”
“I am your Brandon, and I want to go to the park.”
“Do you have a red jacket? My Brandon has a red jacket.”
“I have a new jacket,” Brandon answered. “It’s blue, just like yours.”
Brandon ran to the kitchen and put on his new jacket.
Grandpa got his jacket from the closet. “Well,” he said, “look at that. Our jackets do match. Do you have a red baseball cap? My Brandon always wears a red baseball cap.”
“Here it is.” Brandon put on his cap. “My grandpa wears a black cap.”
“Here it is.” Grandpa put on his black cap. “My Brandon has a ticklish spot right here.” Grandpa tickled Brandon.
Brandon wiggled and giggled and squirmed all the way to the back door. He opened the door and ran outside. “I’m your Brandon, you’re my grandpa, and we’re ready now. Let’s go to the park!”

It is worth noting the way the Lord prepares our spirit and mind, without our realizing it, to obtain this high level of understanding.

When we were still visiting the Church as investigators, in the second week we received a phone call from the branch president, Brother Antonio Landelino Barros, who asked if it were possible for him to come visit us the following night. At the assigned hour, President Barros arrived, accompanied by two men, all formally dressed. Before the family gathered in the living room, President Barros asked permission to offer a prayer. His words were a simple but inspiring supplication to the Lord asking for the guidance of his Spirit and special blessings upon the family, for us to understand the purpose of that visit and to benefit from it thereafter.

Briefly, President Barros presented a discussion on the home teaching program and introduced his companions, Brothers Nelson Bezerra dos Santos and Alfredo Orlando Torres Lima, as our home teachers and from then on our first and most direct contact with the Church.

What a great experience! What a great opportunity and privilege to serve! Those brothers were around our family during the whole time we lived in the branch area.

Every Sunday, those brothers received our family when we arrived at the chapel. They sat next to us during meetings. They taught us the hymns. They taught us about the standards of the kingdom. They called to inform us about the passing away of President Joseph Fielding Smith and later about the calling of the new prophet, President Harold B. Lee.

They were interested in the well-being and the progress of our family and our eventual needs. After our baptism, postponed for two months, and even after we had moved to the Tijuca Ward, these dedicated home teachers and President Barros took turns during the following three months, approximately, in regular phone calls to know if our family was well adjusted in the new ward, if everything was all right, if any help was needed.

In spite of the change of residence, the home teachers did not feel totally released of their duties of taking care of and giving attention to our family.

Even being sure we had new shepherds, they continued as our brothers in Christ.

What a magnificent attitude! They no longer had the assignment, but they kept the Christian interest. What an extraordinary bond was established. Almost twenty-three years have passed since then. Many other home teacher companions have succeeded those first ones. Their names, with few exceptions, are vaguely remembered, but the names and images of those first servants are forever in our memories since they served as true shepherds.

Those brothers were, in fact, guardians, keepers, and very supportive. It is also worth mentioning that they fulfilled their stewardship with happy countenances, which reflected a happy state of spirit.

It seemed as if it were an honor and a privilege for them to serve so. They seemed to understand the duties of the eldest and youngest alike, as taught by the Apostle Peter:
“Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking the oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly; not for filthy lucre, but of a ready mind” (1 Pet. 5:2).

The example of those dedicated brothers served as the foundation for the future conduct of a new priesthood holder. As I recall these experiences, myself being a home teacher now, I have a pattern very close to the model of Jesus Christ to follow.

Ever since then I have devoted myself with all my might, with my best efforts, to the care of assigned families, and some of my most significant experiences as a priesthood holder were lived as a home teacher.

In order to keep the Sabbath day holy, I once had to lose my job. But I know now that God lives. This is a great joy, isn’t it? Another time, shortly after my marriage, I became seriously ill. For two years my condition worsened and doctors gave no hope for my recovery. Finally, however, through a powerful priesthood blessing, my health was fully restored. Without your help and the help of other missionaries, I might never have known about the restoration of the priesthood. I don’t know how to thank you all enough for your sincere hearts and your love for me.

Second, when we struggle with our own identity and lack of self-esteem, the “pleasing word of God” (Jacob 2:8) in the scriptures will help us know who we really are and give us strength beyond our own. Recognizing my identity as God’s child was one of the sweetest moments I have ever experienced. In my early teenage years, I did not know anything about the teachings of the Savior. When I first read the New Testament, the words of Christ truly healed my wounded soul. I realized I was not alone and that I am a child of God. As I recognized my true identity before God, I realized my infinite potential through Christ’s Atonement.

Using the two dollars, Geoff has done everything from leaving quarters on a bubblegum machine to buying dollar-movie tickets for the people behind him in line. One time, Geoff saw some homeless men outside of a fast-food restaurant. “I went through the drive-through, and by the time I got my food, the men were leaving. I got out of my car and chased them half a block before I had the chance to give some food to them.”

Sam John could hardly wait until class was over so he could talk with Brother Murphy. He had a very special question to ask—one that he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
At first Sam had gone to Brother Murphy’s classes because he liked being with the older boys and girls who attended. Then he kept going because of the lovely music. Finally he found that more important than anything else was the feeling he had when he listened to the things Brother Murphy said.
Now he had to know if these things were really true!
Sam John waited patiently until almost everyone had left the class. Then he went up to the white-haired man and asked if he could talk with him alone. A bench under a spreading tree made a perfect place for Sam to ask his most important question.
“Brother Murphy,” he began, “are these things you have told us about Jesus and Joseph Smith really true?”
The man looked down, surprised that a boy only eight years old could be so serious and sincere. Then he took the boy’s hand, looked into his eyes, and asked a question too. “Sam,” he said, “do you think Sister Murphy and I and all the other missionaries who have come to these classes would spend money to come to Hawaii and take our precious time to tell you these things if we did not know they are true?”
Without hesitation, Sam answered, “I believe these things too, and I want to be baptized into your Church.”
Then Sam told Brother Murphy that his mother had been baptized when she was just a little girl, but that she didn’t understand much about the Church and had never been active in it.
“What would she think if you were baptized?” Brother Murphy asked. “And what about your father?”
Sam had to admit that he didn’t think his father would be very happy, but he promised to talk to him.
A few days later Sam John’s father, a Chinese-Hawaiian, went to the mission home. “What is this you have been teaching my son to affect him so much?” he demanded. “He even wants to become a member of your Church.”
“Mr. John,” the mission president answered, “I’m glad you’ve come to talk with me. There is nothing we’ve taught Sam that you should not also know, especially since your boy wants to be baptized.”
The next night Sam’s father went back to the mission home, and the next, and the next.
Sam could hardly believe it when a few weeks later his father suggested that Sam wait a little while to be baptized so that he and Sam’s older brother could be baptized.
Now we are united as a family, Sam thought after their baptisms, and it seemed as if his heart would burst with happiness.

Before filming at the Mount of Beatitudes, the choir boarded two boats at Tiberias and crossed the Sea of Galilee. About halfway across the sea, which can give rise to sudden storms as it did the night Christ calmed the waters, the boats stopped, a prayer was offered, and the choir and others sang “Master, the Tempest Is Raging.”
“I really felt the Spirit when we stopped out on the Sea of Galilee,” says one choir member. “I’ve really never felt it that strongly before.”

I have learned from personal experience that spiritual preparation for the coming of the Lord is not only essential but the only way to find true peace and happiness.
It was a crisp fall day when I first heard the words “You have cancer.” My husband and I were stunned! As we drove home in silence, processing the news, my heart turned to our three sons.
In my mind I asked Heavenly Father, “Am I going to die?”
The Holy Ghost whispered, “Everything is going to be OK.”
Then I asked, “Am I going to live?”
Again, the answer came: “Everything is going to be OK.”
I was confused. Why did I receive the exact same answer whether I lived or died?
Then suddenly every fiber of my being filled with absolute peace as I was reminded: We did not need to hurry home and teach our children how to pray. They knew how to receive answers and comfort from prayer. We did not need to hurry home and teach them about the scriptures or words of living prophets. Those words were already a familiar source of strength and understanding. We did not need to hurry home and teach them about repentance, the Resurrection, the Restoration, the plan of salvation, eternal families, or the very doctrine of Jesus Christ.
In that moment every family home evening lesson, scripture study session, prayer of faith offered, blessing given, testimony shared, covenant made and kept, house of the Lord attended, and Sabbath day observed mattered—oh, how it mattered! It was too late to put oil in our lamps. We needed every single drop, and we needed it right now!
Because of Jesus Christ and His restored gospel, if I died, my family would be comforted, strengthened, and one day restored. If I lived, I would have access to the greatest power on this earth to help succor, sustain, and heal me. In the end, because of Jesus Christ, everything can be OK.

When Quinn was younger, his father, Greg, told him that he would support Quinn in pursuing roping—if he did three things: kept his language clean, kept the Word of Wisdom, and stayed morally clean. Quinn also decided that he would keep the Sabbath day holy by not competing on Sundays. Knowing that he made those commitments early on helps Quinn stay on track. He knows where he stands, and for him doing what’s right is a simpler choice.

This is how President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) lived his life. Many years ago, I had an assignment with him. As part of the assignment, we were to be in a four-hour training meeting on a Saturday afternoon. However, he felt the prompting of the Holy Ghost to visit some people with great needs in order to lift their spirits and help them to be of good cheer. So for the first two hours, while I and other brethren were in the meeting, he was out doing good to others, ministering as the Lord did in His mortal life. President Monson joined us for the final two hours of the training meeting and did a marvelous job of teaching and training.
After the meeting, I commented on how well he taught in the meeting and then thanked him for the most powerful teaching: his example of going out and ministering to individuals, one by one. He smiled and said: “One thing about me, I am never confused about my priorities.” I thought about what he had said and after taking him to the airport and bidding him goodbye, I headed for home. Then I changed direction and went to visit a sister who was ill and needed some cheering up. Since that time, I have tried to live in my very imperfect way to be a light to others as the Savior commanded us to be and to do so in word, action, and deed.

“When our oldest son was about three, he would kneel with his mother and me in our evening prayer. I was serving as the bishop of the ward at the time, and a lovely lady in the ward, Margaret Lister, lay perilously ill with cancer. Each night we would pray for Sister Lister. One evening our tiny son offered the prayer and confused the words of the prayer with a story from a nursery book. He began: ‘Heavenly Father, please bless Sister Lister, Henny Penny, Chicken Little, Turkey Lurkey, and all the little folks.’ We held back the smiles that evening. Later we were humbled as Margaret Lister sustained a complete recovery. We do not belittle the prayer of a child. After all, our children have more recently been with our Heavenly Father than have we.”(Ensign, October 1999, page 2.)

Olmedo Roldán, 18, sees missionary work as a natural result of friendship. “A few days after I was baptized,” he says, “I read in the Liahona about a young man who helped the full-time missionaries even though he had just been baptized. So the next day I helped the missionaries too! And I loved it. Now the bishop has called me to serve as a ward missionary, and I’m preparing to serve a full-time mission. It was through missionary work that we found the Church. A lot of people need the Church and are looking for it. We can help them find it.”

After lunch on Saturday, Sara asked, “What should I do now?”
“What would you like to do?” Father was at the desk, opening his stamp album.
“I don’t know,” Sara replied. “Everyone else has a hobby to work on.”
“You could start a recipe collection.” Mother liked to cook new things. She was scanning the newspaper for recipes to clip.
“Quilting is a nice hobby.” Grandmother was cutting small squares from scraps of material for quilt blocks.
“Go leaf hunting.” Sara’s sister, Grace, held a leaf in one hand and a book about trees in the other.
“Rocks are more interesting than trees,” Sara’s brother, Glen, argued. He was sorting small stones in old egg cartons.
Sara didn’t know what to say. Dad’s stamps were colorful. Mother’s meals were delicious. Grandmother’s quilts were beautiful. Grace’s leaf collection was pretty, and Glen’s rocks were interesting. But Sara didn’t want to do what anyone else was doing. She wanted a hobby of her own.
“Thank you for the ideas,” Sara said sadly. She sat on the sofa and looked out the window. Jake was in the backyard burying a bone. Even he had something to collect! Sara sighed. She thought about how her family had tried to help. Suddenly she had an idea. “I know what I’ll collect!”
“What?” Father asked.
Sara smiled. “It’s a surprise,” she said. “I’ll show you next Saturday.”
There was a field trip at school on Monday. Sara’s class visited a limestone quarry and watched the big machines load rocks from it onto trucks. Sara picked up one of the small stones scattered on the ground and put it into her pocket. When she got home, she put the stone into an empty shoe box.
After school on Tuesday, Mother told Sara “A letter came for you.” She handed Sara an envelope.
“I’ve been hoping for this!” Sara tore open the envelope. Inside was a letter from her Swedish pen pal. Sara read the letter three times.
Then Sara looked at the envelope again. With a pair of scissors she carefully cut off the corner of the envelope that held the stamp. She had seen Father do this many times. My collection is growing, she thought as she dropped the stamp into the shoe box.
After dinner Wednesday night, Sara came downstairs carrying a worn-out dress. “May I have this for my collection, Mother?”
“Yes,” Mother replied, looking at Sara curiously.
Sara spent the rest of the evening cutting the dress into small squares. By bedtime she had a large stack of squares to put into the shoe box.
Thursday, during recess, Sara looked closely at all the trees in the school yard. Some of the leaves were golden. One tree had leaves shaped like mittens. Sara pulled a leaf from that tree and put it between two pieces of paper and slipped it into her math book. Later she laid it gently in the shoe box.
Mother shopped for groceries every Friday night. Glen, Grace, and Sara took turns going with her to help. Sara was glad that it was her turn. Before leaving for the store, she took some coins from her piggy bank.
At the meat counter, Sara found a beef bone wrapped in plastic. She put the bone into their cart and handed Mother the coins. “I would like to buy this for my collection.”
“Are you sure?”
Sara just smiled and nodded.
On Saturday Sara had lunch with her friend Hana Clark. Mrs. Clark made a pie, but it was not a dessert pie. It was filled with cheese and tomatoes. It was the main course.
“This pie is unusual, but it is very good,” Sara said. “May I have the recipe?”
“Of course,” answered Mrs. Clark.
After lunch, Hana read the recipe to Sara, who printed it on a piece of paper. When she got home, she put the recipe into the shoe box.
Saturday evening Sara took the bone from the refrigerator and put it into the shoe box.
“Are you going to show us your collection?” Glen asked when Sara brought her shoe box to the dinner table.
Sara nodded. She set the shoe box on the table and took off the lid. Father, Mother, Grandmother, Grace, and Glen peered inside. They all looked puzzled.
“What a strange collection,” Glen said.
“It is different,” Grace agreed.
“Sara, what is your hobby?” Father asked.
Sara didn’t say anything. She just handed the recipe to Mother, the stamp to Father, the fabric squares to Grandmother, the leaf to Grace, and the stone to Glen. “The bone is for Jake,” she explained. She unwrapped it and set it outside the back door.
When she came back to the table, she saw smiles on everyone’s face. “I’m collecting smiles,” she said. “Now I have five smiles for my collection. If you count Jake’s wagging his tail, I have six.”
“Yours is the best hobby of all,” Grandmother said. Then she kissed Sara on the nose.

The Rexburg Idaho North Stake Adventurers climbed to new heights as they spent three days backpacking in the Tetons of Wyoming. They hiked 20 miles up and across the ridge of mountains starting in Idaho and ending in Wyoming. The girls were challenged by the steep terrain, the altitude, and the effort of carrying everything with them. The nine Young Women who practiced in the hike formed close friendships as they joined together in helping each other along the way.

As a boy, I was baptized with my family in 1971. For years we were very active as a family in Church. Then, little by little, we stopped attending meetings. My family began to have many problems that resulted in my parents’ separation.

After a long period of time I began to attend church again. One of my friends from seminary days had found me and encouraged me back into activity. I began to read the scriptures and Church books—especially the Liahona (Spanish)—and I developed the desire to serve a mission.

As part of my mission preparation I read the Book of Mormon all the way through. This special book of scripture became my constant companion and was a great help to me.

I am now serving a mission and I love the work. My parents are back together and my younger brother and sister are planning to go on missions. The trials still keep coming, but with the gospel we can overcome them.

Based on my own experience, I would encourage all of the young men of the Church to prepare now for a mission. One of the best ways to prepare is to read the Book of Mormon and the Church magazine. Do not hesitate to accept a mission call. You will never regret it.
Elder E. Jorge Luis LeonArgentina Buenos Aires South Mission

I hope that you young people recognize the strength and the power of your testimonies. Several years ago I was in the nation of Czechoslovakia. There, in an inspiring meeting held in Prague under dangerous circumstances and when freedom was curtailed, I met a young woman whose name is Olga. She was about 25 years of age at the time and had, in the previous two years, brought to membership in the Church 16 young men and young women her own age. As I met with them, I knew they were truly converted to the gospel. I felt they would be the foundation of the Church in Czechoslovakia. They learned the truth of the gospel and felt the strength of testimony—all from Olga. When I complimented Olga and thanked her for having a testimony she is willing to share, she said, “Oh, Brother Monson, I have 14 others with whom I am working!” Later I learned that almost all of those 14 became members of the Church. The light of Christ shone in Olga’s eyes as she encouraged others to “come unto him.”

When I was a young child, my father was not a member of the Church and my mother had become less active. We lived in Washington, D.C., and my mother’s parents lived 2,500 miles (4,000 km) away in the state of Washington. Some months after my eighth birthday, Grandmother Whittle came across the country to visit us. Grandmother was concerned that neither I nor my older brother had been baptized. I don’t know what she said to my parents about this, but I do know that one morning she took my brother and me to the park and shared with us her feelings about the importance of being baptized and attending Church meetings regularly. I don’t remember the specifics of what she said, but her words stirred something in my heart, and soon my brother and I were baptized.
Grandmother continued to support us. I remember that anytime my brother or I was assigned to give a talk in church, we would call her on the telephone for some suggestions. Within a few days a handwritten talk would arrive by mail. After some time her suggestions changed to an outline requiring more effort on our part.
Grandmother used just the right amount of courage and respect to help our father recognize the importance of his driving us to the church for our meetings. In every appropriate way, she helped us to feel a need for the gospel in our lives.
Most importantly, we knew Grandmother loved us and that she loved the gospel. She was a marvelous example! How grateful I am for the testimony she shared with me when I was very young. Her influence changed the direction of my life for eternal good.

Starting in my junior year of high school, my life began to get off track. I went to church only to pacify my parents, not because I wanted to. Towards the end of the year, I felt I had hit rock bottom. Nothing was going right, not at school, not at work, and especially not at home.
One day I went to my sister’s house. At that time my brother-in-law, Gerry, was in the bishopric. I began to tell them all the things in my life that were going wrong. After patiently listening, Gerry suggested that I start reading the Book of Mormon 30 minutes a day. I figured I had tried everything else and nothing had worked, so I decided to give it a try. Gerry promised me that if I truly tried to read for 30 minutes a day for a whole month, things would start to change for the better.
I started reading that very night. I think it was the longest half hour of my life. The next day was just an average day; nothing great and nothing horrible happened.
But change takes time. The next week was not an easy one. I missed the extra half hour of sleep, but I stuck with it. Soon I started to notice little things just happened to work out for the better.
At this time, I received the biggest blessing I have ever had in my life, although I didn’t recognize it at first. I had the opportunity to go to Ireland to work for the summer. I was already two weeks into my month of reading, so I decided to continue the Book of Mormon test while in Ireland and read it every day. And I did.
My life began to change dramatically. I began to love the things that I used to detest. I looked forward to going to church at my little branch in Galway. I gained a more positive outlook on life, and my testimony began to grow in leaps and bounds. One day I wrote in my journal:
Today was the most wonderful day. I woke up and went to church at 10:30. Today was our branch conference. It was the most spiritual meeting I have ever attended! I don’t think that I have ever felt the Spirit so strongly before. The people here in Galway are the friendliest, most generous, righteous people I have ever met. They give me strength. They are so firmly rooted in the gospel; I learn so much just by their examples. I think that today is the first time I have ever known or felt absolutely positive that the gospel is right and true.
Reading the Book of Mormon was no longer a chore. It was something I began to look forward to every day. My time in Ireland was soon up, and I had to return home. I knew that facing my old home life and my old friends was going to be a great challenge.
When I got home, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. My mom and I actually saw eye to eye on a lot of things, and I grew to love her with all my heart. As the wrinkles in home life began to iron out, so did things with my friends. I stopped hanging out with some of my old friends and started associating with a different group of girls. This was hard, but I had a lot of support. My life took a 180-degree turn.
Throughout this whole process I had the scriptures and a sister who was sent straight from heaven. My sister always knew when things were getting rough, and she would write me little notes of encouragement. She gave me a compass to remind me every day of the changes I had made in my life and to keep going in the same direction.

Most of her neighbors belong to other churches, but that doesn’t stop Julianne from being their friend. She does all she can to make certain that she doesn’t have conflicts with her neighbors, like some of the early Saints did. One of her best friends is a sixty-year-old widow named Mrs. Troyer. Julianne loves to work in the garden or go for walks with her. They’ve been great friends for two or three years. “We talk about all kinds of stuff on our walks. She’s one of the nicest people I know,” said Julianne.

Stranded in an airport because of bad weather, a young mother and her two-year-old daughter had been waiting in long lines for hours trying to get a flight home. The child was tired and fussy, but the mother, who was pregnant and at risk of miscarriage, did not pick her up. A doctor had advised the mother to avoid lifting the two-year-old unless absolutely necessary. The woman overheard disapproving comments from people around her as she used her foot to slide her crying daughter along in the line. Nobody offered to help. But then, the woman later recalled, “someone came towards us and with a kindly smile said, ‘Is there something I could do to help you?’ With a grateful sigh I accepted his offer. He lifted my sobbing little daughter from the cold floor and lovingly held her to him while he patted her gently on the back. He asked if she could chew a piece of gum. When she was settled down, he carried her with him and said something kindly to the others in the line ahead of me, about how I needed their help. They seemed to agree and then he went up to the ticket counter [at the front of the line] and made arrangements with the clerk for me to be put on a flight leaving shortly. He walked with us to a bench, where we chatted a moment, until he was assured that I would be fine. He went on his way. About a week later I saw a picture of Apostle Spencer W. Kimball and recognized him as the stranger in the airport.”17