Gospel Story Finder

As soon as they were able to sell their homes, other members of the Church followed Joseph. Some also went by sleigh; others went by stagecoach or wagon. There are many rivers and lakes in western New York and Ohio. Canals had been dug to connect these waterways, so most of the Saints went by barge and boat. Three groups from New York made the journey to Kirtland in this way. They were the Colesville, Fayette, and Palmyra-Manchester branches of the Church. The Fayette group was led by Thomas B. Marsh and the Prophet Joseph’s mother, Lucy Mack Smith. Lucy had called the 20 adults and 30 children together and reminded them that they were traveling by commandment of the Lord, just as father Lehi had when he left Jerusalem. She said that if they would remain faithful, they could expect the blessings of God, just as Lehi’s people had. The group traveled on the Cayuga and Seneca Canal to Buffalo, New York, where they planned to take a steamboat across Lake Erie to Kirtland. But when they arrived in Buffalo, ice blocked the harbor and further travel was impossible. They experienced hardships, including hunger and sickness, while they waited for the ice to break. After several days, they put their belongings on a boat, and Lucy persuaded the group to ask the Lord to break the six-meter-high ice barriers that jammed the harbor. No sooner had they finished praying than a thunderous noise exploded in the air. The captain cried, “Every man to his post!” The Fayette Saints looked up to see the ice parting to make a passageway just large enough for their boat. When the boat entered the opening, the ice was so close on both sides that buckets were ripped from its waterwheel. As soon as the boat passed through, the opening closed and no other boat could get through. Once again the prayers of the people had been heard! Because people on shore saw the ripping of the waterwheel, they thought the boat would sink in the icy harbor. So when the Fayette Saints arrived in Kirtland, many people there were surprised to see them.

Because of our financial needs, my father expected me to help earn money for the family. I wanted to serve a mission, but when I turned 19 years old, he asked that I wait one year to serve my mission so I could continue working to help my family. When I turned 20 years old, he asked that I wait another year to serve.
Just before I turned 21 years old, he wanted to request that I wait one more year. But my mother told him, “Let him go serve, and it will bless us.” This really happened. Before my mission, only a younger brother and I had worked to help support the family. As soon as I went on my mission, two more of my brothers and my two oldest sisters started working, so my family did better financially.

A good example of choosing Him came to my attention just a few days ago when I read a newspaper article about Will Hopoate, a young member of the Church in Australia. Let me quote from that article:

"A decision made by 19-year-old Will Hopoate, one of the biggest stars in Australian rugby, is making headlines in Australia these days, as he announced his decision to leave professional rugby at the end of the season to serve a two-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In doing so, he is forsaking millions [of dollars]. 'At the end of the day it was all my decision. This is what I want to do,' Hopoate told the media in a press conference. Many are struggling to understand why Hopoate, a hot commodity in the National Rugby League, is choosing this moment to forgo the wealthy, celebrity life of a pro athlete and serve a mission. He said the decision to go on a mission is something he has always considered. His family supports his choice to serve, but he emphasized to reporters that serving a mission has been 100 percent his decision. 'I was brought up in the Mormon faith. This is who I am and what I want to do,' the young rugby star said."

"This is who I am and what I want to do." Those words ought to be part of every important decision you and I make in this life. Can you see from Will's experience how desires dictate our priorities and priorities shape our choices and choices determine our actions and the desires we act on determine our changing, our achieving, and our becoming?

When Bishop Ernest White of the Holywood Road Ward in Belfast, Northern Ireland, watched his two sons run a marathon, he expected his son David, who had been training for months, to finish the race much faster than his less-prepared son Peter. Bishop White was surprised when David stayed by Peter’s side all the way to the finish line.
“I’m holding you back. Go on without me,” Peter told his brother.
“I’m not going to leave you,” replied David.
This experience led Bishop White to think about the members of his ward. Many of them are elderly sisters, and it is difficult for them to travel to the nearest temple in Preston, England. Bishop White imagined each of these sisters saying, “Go on to the temple without me. I’m going to hold you back. Don’t wait for me.”
Despite the difficulties, Bishop White and other ward leaders didn’t want to leave these sisters behind. They decided to organize an annual ward trip to the temple, helping each ward member who desired to attend to enjoy the blessings of the temple.
Bishop White recognizes that while the trip is expensive and difficult to plan, “it brings a great togetherness.”
The annual trip involves everyone in the ward in different ways. Adults help schedule appointments and make travel arrangements. Youth help older members use technology to do family history research and prepare family name cards. The generous donations of some members help cover accommodation costs for all the traveling temple patrons.
“The message we have successfully given to our members—every single one—is if they have committed to follow the covenant path and move forward, none of them will be left behind,” Bishop White said. “They are needed, and they’re loved, and they’re not holding us back.”
For the first two annual trips, ward members flew to England. However, in 2024 some members couldn’t climb the stairs to the airplanes anymore, so the ward decided to drive instead. This required taking a ferry across the Irish Sea.
Over 30 members made the journey to attend the temple last August. For a week, they participated together in temple ordinances. These experiences reminded the members that they are each part of a loving ward family.
“When we walk through the doors of the temple together, it means so much to us,” Bishop White said. “When we see each other—all of us in the celestial room together—that’s like a little bit of heaven on earth.”
Although bringing the entire Holywood Road Ward across the Irish Sea to visit the temple isn’t easy, it is worth it for the members and their loved ones. “That’s what the Savior would have us do,” Bishop White said. “He wouldn’t have anybody be left behind. He wants all of us to move forward together, so that’s what we’re trying to do.”
Bringing the entire Holywood Road Ward across the Irish Sea to visit the temple isn’t easy, but it’s worth it.

Although they lived in town, where Henry’s father was a businessman, the family owned a fruit farm several miles from Provo. Elder Taylor recalls that “for several years we moved to the farm for the summer. Father would travel by bicycle or horse and buggy to his work at the Taylor Brothers Company. We learned to spray the fruit trees, to irrigate them, and to harvest the fruit. Night irrigating was a cold, unpleasant task, and it discouraged us from wanting to become farmers.
“Mother gloried in farm life. She had a beautiful garden and enjoyed picking the various kinds of vegetables and fruits when they were ripe. In the evening she delighted in walking along the brow of the hill and in admiring the magnificent sunsets. I suppose from her enthusiasm most of us children developed an appreciation for sunsets and other beauties of nature.”

When the full-time missionaries came to my home in France to do a service project, my parents were not active members of the Church, and I hadn’t been baptized. Soon the missionaries taught me the gospel, which I loved. And soon my parents returned to church.
“Who’s going to baptize you?” the missionaries asked me.
“My father,” I replied.
My father, who was from Italy, was a good man. He taught me to see people as Jesus would see them. Sadly, he died a few weeks before my baptism.
Later, when I received my mission call, I was so excited that I asked my mother to open it.
“You’re going to be happy,” she said, crying. “You’re going to your father’s home country!”
I had dreamt of serving in Italy. Missions are about serving people, not about serving in areas. But I prayed that I would serve in Italy, specifically the city of Gaeta, where my father’s ancestors had lived since the 10th century.
After serving in Rome and Sicily, I received the glad news that I was being transferred to the area that included Gaeta. Before that transfer in early 2023, my companion and great friend Elder Jack Beck gave me a gift I will never forget. Elder Beck is a talented artist. From a small picture I had of my father, Elder Beck drew a beautiful portrait of him.
I looked at that portrait every day during personal study. It gave me strength to share the gospel.
As soon as I was assigned to Gaeta, I sought out my relatives. When I showed my father’s older brother the portrait, he wept. He hadn’t seen his brother for years and had no pictures of him.
I taught my uncle that one day he would see his brother again—not in a portrait but in person. I taught him that through the gospel, he could live with his brother again in love and peace with the Savior.
I saw great miracles in Gaeta as I shared with family members the good news that because Jesus Christ overcame death, loss of loved ones is only temporary (see Mosiah 16:8). I testify that through His atoning sacrifice, the Savior has made it possible for our families to be gathered eternally.

Twelve-year-old William Moroni Palmer leaned against his mother’s arm. “Read the story about David and Goliath,” he said.
“I read that one to you yesterday.”
“Then how about Daniel and the lions?”
“You already know that by heart.”
“I know. But David and Daniel were so brave. I wish I was as brave as they were.”
“They were more than brave,” his mother said. “They also had great faith in the Lord. They knew He would help them.” She put her arm around her son. “Besides, you are as brave as they were. Every day you face a world of darkness, and every day you face it with a smile.”
William reached for the Bible his mother held, and she put it into his hand. He gently caressed the cover. “Oh, I wish I could read it!”
His mother tousled his hair. “You can read it in your mind,” she said, her voice growing firm. “Daniel 6:23.” [Dan. 6:23]
William sat up tall. “‘Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den. So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no manner of hurt was found upon him, because he believed in his God.’”
“Very good,” his mother said. “Because you have memorized it, you can read it any time you’d like.”
Just then his father stepped into the room. “It’s official,” he reported. “Elder Heber C. Kimball is coming to the conference your mother and I will be attending in Ogden.”
“He’s in the First Presidency now!” His mother jumped to her feet and ran to the front door. “Hyrum,” she called to William’s brother, “come here, please. I have something wonderful to tell you!”
For the next several hours, William’s parents, his married brother and sister, and even nine-year-old Hyrum excitedly talked about the upcoming conference.
William only listened. Ever since he had learned that President Kimball was coming, a great shivery feeling had filled his heart. Did he truly have enough courage—and enough faith—to ask what he so desperately wanted to ask?
After a while, his mother returned to his side. “What is it, Son?” she asked. “Aren’t you excited too?”
William nodded. “Yes, but …” He swallowed hard. “Mother, would you ask President Kimball to come to our place after the conference and bless me so that I can see?”
His mother pulled him into her arms. “Dear William, do you believe that you can be healed?” she asked.
William thought of Daniel climbing out of the lions’ den. He pictured David swinging his slingshot above his head. “I know I can, Mama, if he will come and if the Lord wills it.”
“Then I will bring him. He gave me a blessing to heal me when I was dying in Nauvoo, and he promised that he’d shake hands with me in the west, so I’m sure that he will come.”
When conference day arrived that day in 1858, William’s father gathered his family for prayer. He prayed that he and his wife would have a safe journey, that all would be well at home, and that William would receive his sight, if it was God’s will. Then the boys’ parents left for the conference.
While they were gone, William spent most of his time in his parents’ room, praying. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he pleaded, “let President Kimball come.”
Finally, just as the warm afternoon air was beginning to cool, William heard the clickety-jingle of the family surrey. He ran to the front door and listened harder. The Apostle’s voice!
“Is this the boy you told me of?” President Kimball asked as he stepped through the door.
“It is,” his mother said. “But would you like to eat with us first?”
“This must come first. He has waited long enough.”
William’s father placed a chair in the middle of the room for William to sit on. Then he and President Kimball gave William a blessing.
“Open your eyes, Brother William,” President Kimball said, “and you shall see.”
William’s eyes flew open. He sat stunned for a moment, then jumped from his chair and ran out the door. “Oh! I can see! I can see! Oh, Mama, I can see!” Then he fell to the ground and hugged it.
How grateful he was that God had not only restored his sight but had also taught him that if he had faith in Him, all things were possible.

Illustration by Dan Burr
I remember it was your typical ward Christmas party: tables covered with red and green butcher paper, dinner served on paper plates, little children running around, and the happy sound of ward members chatting. Somehow, someone had managed to quiet things down to give a blessing on the food, and then everyone ate. The program was about to start.
It wasn’t my ward. I had gone with a friend to her ward party, so I didn’t know many people. We had wanted to leave early, but her mom convinced us to stay for the program.
The first number on the program was by the Primary children, who walked onto the stage wearing gold-tinsel halos on their heads. They sang a song then bumped and giggled their way offstage, leaving a trail of gold tinsel in their wake.
Two pianists then played joyous songs. The first pianist played “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful” (Hymns, no. 202) without missing a note. The other, a young boy, sat down at the piano and looked mournfully over his shoulder at his mom, who began to quietly count the beat. The boy sighed, turned to the instrument, and played his best version of “Up on the Housetop.”
Next on the program was one of my favorite songs—“C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s.”
I looked up to see a sister with stooped shoulders and one hand held close to her body, walking with an awkward stride to stand beside the piano. She stood with one hip lower than the other and offered a lopsided smile before she began. I admit I wrongfully wondered if the song would be any good.
“When I was but a youngster, Christmas meant one thing,” she sang. The song went on to tell how a child learns how to spell Christmas and discovers what the holiday is really about.
Her mouth was slack on one side, and she had difficulty forming the words.
Cautiously I looked around the room and studied the faces of her ward members. No one seemed embarrassed. In fact, they sat smiling and listening contentedly.
She continued singing and turned her face upward, fixing her eyes on a spot somewhere on the ceiling. After a few moments I looked up too, but I saw only ceiling tiles. When I glanced back at her, though, I noticed tears gleaming in her eyes.
When she finished, the hall filled with applause. Her cheeks flushed red. As she made her way back to her seat, hands reached out to touch her arm or shoulder as ward members expressed genuine gratitude. One sister, sitting close to me, told her what a nice job she had done, to which she quietly replied, “Thank you. I hope He liked it.”
He? To whom had she been singing? Even as I asked myself the question, I knew the answer. I realized she hadn’t been singing to anyone in the room. She hadn’t performed for the approval of the audience. She had sung to the Savior to praise Him.
Many Christmases have passed since that ward party, and I’ve heard the song “C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s” performed by many well-trained voices. But the version I heard that Christmas, sung by one whose performance was out of the ordinary but truly heartfelt, is the one I remember best.

As a teenager, Linda Kjar Burton had a sudden realization during a Church meeting in Christchurch, New Zealand. “I knew the gospel was true,” she recalled. “I was also aware I had always known.” That testimony will now sustain her as she serves as Relief Society general president.

Born in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, to Marjorie C. and Morris A. Kjar, Sister Burton was 13 years old when her family left Utah so her father could preside over the New Zealand South Mission. Sister Burton—the second of six children—attended the Church College of New Zealand and associated with Latter-day Saint teens from across the Pacific. She returned to Salt Lake City with not only a love for varied cultures and traditions but especially for the Lord and for her family.

Sister Burton was attending the University of Utah when she met and married Craig P. Burton in August 1973 in the Salt Lake Temple. The couple decided not to delay starting a family; the first of their six children was born almost a year later.

Working together with her husband, she was able to stay home with the children while he made a career in real estate. Early financial challenges taught the couple to look to the future with confidence “because we knew we had done something hard with the help of the Lord,” she explained.

The family took simple vacations and enjoyed being together. Sister Burton served in Young Women, Primary, and Sunday School and on the Primary and Relief Society general boards. She served together with her husband as he presided over the Korea Seoul West Mission from 2007 to 2010. In the mission field, Sister Burton realized—just as she had years earlier in New Zealand—that love transcends language and culture.

She hopes in her new assignment that something she learned from a friend in Korea will apply again: “They will feel your love.”

The annual crop of sugar beets isn’t the only thing that makes Sugar City, Idaho, a sweet place to be. A small group of boys in the senior class at Salem High School in Sugar City, who are all priests in the Sugar City Idaho Stake, decided that they would make Valentine’s Day special for all the girls at their school.
The boys got a red rose for every woman and girl in the school and arranged with the principal to present them at a special Valentine’s Day assembly during the last hour of school on February 14. Not a single girl knew about the assembly ahead of time, since all the boys talked about their plans in code, calling it “Project A.”
It’s an idea that the girls fell in love with.

Despite the presiding officer’s discernment, Joseph Smith set up the law of witnesses, which requires that evidence and testimony must be used to prove a person’s acts.42 But the spiritual recognition that something is wrong or that something is right, he had. He once prayed to know whether a choir in Nauvoo was singing acceptable praises to God. The Lord made known to him that the director was immoral. Shortly the man resigned and left.43 Joseph was discerning, although he trusted many beyond their ­trustworthiness—which perhaps was a function of what Brigham Young described as his “regarding everything according to the circumstances of the case and every person according to the intrinsic worth.”44

Many lives have been blessed by the success of the Philippines Area’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve: 4600” initiative. Aside from the inspired vision of the Area Presidency, the support of the local priesthood leaders and the efforts of youth leaders, the miraculous success of the campaign was also boosted by the catchy theme song performed by Loredel “Daday” Ducena-Baluyot.
Composing the popular anthem with her husband Justin was a labor of love. After the first Area Presidency fireside premiered on Facebook on May 16, 2021, Daday and Justin felt the spirit and were inspired to write the song. After a few weeks, they presented the song to the Church area production team and offered its use to help sustain the momentum of the campaign. The song was reviewed and approved, and by July they were recording it with some help from Brio Divinagracia on the arrangement and background vocals. The song was officially launched during the follow-up Area Presidency fireside on November 21, 2021.
Aside from the 2021 youth theme song “A Great Work,” Daday’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve,” became popular after being part of youth, YSA, and FSY conferences all over the country. It was also listened to and sung along with the 2022 youth theme song “Trust in the Lord.” Recently, the couple rewrote the song as part of the November 20, 2022 Area Presidency fireside launching a heightened and more comprehensive “Come Unto Christ: I Will Go, I Will Serve” initiative.

When our oldest son was 10 years old, I took him deer hunting with some friends in a rugged forest that was new to us. The evening before opening day we set up our tent and shared a campfire meal with the rest of the party. After dinner, the one nonmember in the group broke out a bottle of brandy proclaiming "a little nip will help everyone sleep better tonight." My son and I went back to our tent and were the only ones that did not have a drink. We read the scriptures by lantern light, said our prayers, and climbed in our sleeping bags.

Early the next morning we began the hunt. I told my son to work his way up one side of a canyon, I would work my way up the other side, and we would meet at the top. I arrived at the top, and he was not there yet. I had my Book of Mormon with me, so I sat down to read until he arrived. Time passed and he did not come, so I became worried and retraced my steps calling for him and looking for him on the other side of the canyon. I then saw what I had missed on the way up. The canyon had forked, and his fork took him away from our proposed meeting point.

I became even more alarmed and scrambled down the mountain to the bottom of the canyon. When I reached the sandy streambed, I dropped to my knees pleading with the Lord to tell me which way to go to find my son, upstream or down. As I stood up, I felt a nudge pushing me straight up the other side of the canyon. I climbed to the top of the mountain and found myself on a ridge. Once more the question, which way do I go? Again I knelt down and pleaded for direction. As I stood, I felt a similar nudge prodding me to the left along the ridge. I followed it until it came to a point. There on the point was a lone pine tree with two-by-fours nailed to the trunk allowing me to climb up and sit on a plank that had been set across two branches, forming a lookout and giving me an unobstructed view of the area. Within minutes I saw my son and was able to join him. Coincidence one might say. I felt the nudges!! We had never been in that forest before, but God knew it well. He knew where that lookout was, so I could locate my son.

Years ago I was singing Handel’s Messiah with a group of people from different faiths. Even though our beliefs were different, we were all singing about the same Messiah, our own personal Savior. I had sung this oratorio many times, but during one particular practice, the Spirit told me that I was not only singing notes, I was singing my testimony: “Surely, he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows” (Isa. 53:4). I knew with all my soul that He had done that for me. For a moment the 300 other voices became a whisper and I felt like I was all alone with the Lord. I felt His love and reassurance that He had carried the griefs and the sorrows of my teenage heart, and through my obedience, He would continue to walk with me for the rest of my life. To feel that blessing and comfort and complete love from the Lord is worth any price.

1 I’m glad you asked for a blessing, sweetheart. Daddy’s calling Brother Simon to come help.
2 I hope you don’t mind my coming, too, Mei Lin. When I heard that one of my girls was sick, I just couldn’t stay away.
I’m glad you came.
4 Thank you, Brother Simon. Thanks, Dad. When you put your hands on my head, I could feel your love.
5 And Heavenly Father’s and Jesus’ love too. The priesthood is their power, not ours, and they’ve revealed that it must always be used with love.
6 My head feels a little better already, and I feel a lot better inside.
So do I, sweetheart.
And so do I.

“When Robert Reeve, one of my ancestors, and Alexander Wright went to general conference in 1862, they heard their names read out to go to the Cotton Mission in southern Utah. They went and stayed thirty years,” Elder Rex C. Reeve said, adding, “Later my grandfather, William Arthur Reeve, and my father, Arthur Reeve, moved north to Hinckley, Utah, to operate a farm owned by one of the Apostles. In a few years they got their own farms, and so I was born in Hinckley.
“I enjoyed Hinckley a great deal. The people there were faithful and devoted.” Elder Reeve chuckled and added, “Anyone who can survive down there can survive anywhere, because there are rattlesnakes, sagebrush, greasewood, alkali, wind, heat, and very little moisture.
“My father was a big man, six feet four inches tall. He was probably as fine an athlete as any in the state. He could run, pole-vault, and throw the discus. He played on the team that won the first Church M-Men basketball championship. He was also on the all-state basketball team. He might have had a promising athletic career, but his dad died, and as the oldest of eleven children, he had to leave school to help raise his brothers and sisters. Dad was a great soul, very generous, and he worked in the Scouting program for forty years.
“My mother was only five feet two inches tall. A very capable individual, she had been a schoolteacher before I was born, and she was an elocutionist (one who excels in public speaking). Before I started school, she taught me all the things that are taught in the first, second, and third grades. When my two brothers and two sisters came along, she didn’t have as much time to spend teaching me, and then I was just ordinary in school.
“During the Depression, my grandfather came to live with us. He had crossed the plains eighteen times, bringing people to Utah from Missouri. He would get an assignment to do this just as you might be assigned to work on the welfare farm. I sat at his feet and listened to his stories about hauling rocks for the temple, crossing the plains, and hunting bears. He was a good hunter—he had to be to survive.
“This grandfather was a stake clerk, and he would go around the stake to audit the books. He would travel in a horse and buggy maybe forty miles to a town where a ward was, audit the books, stay overnight, then go twenty-five miles to another town. One time when he was in Oak City, he had a feeling that he should return home that night. He hitched up his horse and buggy and drove twenty-six miles to his home, getting there just as the sun was coming up. He hurried into the house and asked his wife what was wrong. She told him that their youngest daughter was near death. He blessed the little girl, and she was made well.
“My mother’s mother really made an impression on me. When I was nine, she had a stroke and could no longer speak. I remember her lying on a bed in my aunt’s home. The doctor thought that she should have a stimulant, so he had some coffee prepared to give to her. She had never drunk coffee, and I can still see the fire in her eyes as she let the doctor know that she wasn’t going to drink any then, either! He got the message, and she didn’t get the coffee.
“My other grandmother, my dad’s mother, was a visiting teacher to a family during a flu epidemic after World War I. The whole family was sick with the flu; three of them had already died. My grandmother went into their home and took care of them and even dressed the bodies of the dead members in preparation for their funeral. I have always been impressed with what a faithful visiting teacher she was.
“I myself came down with smallpox, a deadly disease in those days. I was isolated in the granary, which had a stove. Pillows were tied on my hands so that I couldn’t scratch the big pox that covered my body. The Lord blessed me so that today I don’t have any pockmarks. I also had diphtheria, another deadly disease, and the Lord spared my life then too.
“I loved school and had some wonderful teachers. One of them was ElRay L. Christiansen, who later became a General Authority. He would tell us about different pieces of music and make them live for us. I still have a great love for opera and classical music.”
Elder Reeve believes that children must be acquainted with Heavenly Father. If He is the center of their lives and they love Him and talk with Him, then He can take them through any trial or problem. It might not all be pleasant, but they can survive.
“God is real. He lives, and He loves you. He loves every child; He doesn’t have favorites. He is as close to you as you will let Him be by how you live, how you mind your parents, and how you keep His commandments.”

What of marriage responsibility? Are there some who delay marriage for fear of the responsibility? When my wife and I were married, we had the magnificent sum of 20 English pounds between us. Although young, we felt ready for the challenges and responsibilities that we knew lay ahead. What a glorious experience it has been now for almost 40 years to shoulder responsibility and struggle together in building a happy home and a wonderful family of ten precious children.

They aren’t great basketball players, but they are determined, I thought as I watched the opposing team run up and down the court.
They were younger, less experienced, and shorter than our basketball team, but they kept on trying, even when it was clear that they didn’t have a chance of winning.
Randy, a boy with sandy-blond hair, played like he didn’t know what the score was. Although he rarely had possession of the ball, he chased it up and down the court like the whole game depended on him.
When his teammates did pass him the ball, he would carry it four steps, stop, bounce it, and pass it to another player. But the referees didn’t call traveling, and no one complained. Randy, who is mentally handicapped, was doing his best.
With seconds left on the clock, he got the ball and his teammates yelled for him to shoot. Concentrating so hard that his tongue hung out of his mouth, he shot—and missed. One of our players rebounded the ball, hesitated, and then tossed the ball to Randy.
“Shoot the ball!” our player yelled, and members of both teams joined in the cheer.
The ball went up, hit the rim, and bounced off. Again, Randy was given the ball, and again he missed. Time had run out, but the buzzer didn’t sound, and the referees stayed at half court. Everyone yelled for him to try again. This time the ball arched and swished the net, and the last two points of the game belonged to Randy.
The crowd went wild and the members of both teams surrounded Randy to congratulate him. He jumped up and down like he’d won the game. And I realized that he had.
And so had every player in that game. They had been true sportsmen: fair and generous. That night no one went home feeling angry or disappointed. There was no bragging or teasing—only fun, good feelings, and winners.

After a few years of conducting meetings in and around Kotpad, I moved to northern India, where I began to sell books from the Evangelical Christian literature society. I came across a book called Is Mormonism Christian? Something about the book intrigued me, and I decided to read it.
The book had a lot of criticism toward the Mormons and their beliefs. Even so, many parts of the book intrigued me, especially their concept of the Godhead, the components of their worship, and the history of polygamy. However, what interested me the most was that their church was named after Jesus Christ. I was curious to know more.
One day while praying, I felt inspired to investigate the Mormon Church. I learned that Salt Lake City, Utah, was the Church’s headquarters. I decided to write a letter and addressed it to “Men in charge of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA.”
In 1959, in response to my letter, Brother Lamar Williams from the Church Missionary Department sent me Joseph Smith’s testimony, the Articles of Faith, and the Book of Mormon. I studied them all and was convinced of their truthfulness. However, there were no missionaries or members to teach me in India.
Then in January 1961, Elder Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited Delhi. I spent three days traveling with him to the Taj Mahal at Agra and to Dharamsala. I was like a sponge soaking up all the gospel lessons he taught. On the final day of his visit, I was ready for baptism. On January 7, 1961, I was baptized by Elder Kimball in the Yamuna River; Sister Kimball was the official witness, though there were many curious onlookers. I was confirmed that evening.
Those three days when the Lord’s Apostle taught me without any interruptions have been some of the best days of my life. Parting was sad because he had become my special Mormon friend.

The events of 23 June 1994 stunned Elder Holland. There had been no particular sense of foreshadowing in President Hunter’s invitation to a 7:30 A.M. visit. But by midday, Elder Holland had been called to serve in the Quorum of the Twelve, had been introduced in the quorum by President Hunter, and had been ordained by the President.

At the time of his call, he marveled at the vigor of President Hunter in handling surely and rapidly the events of the morning. It was evidence “that the Lord had worked a miracle in the life of Howard W. Hunter,” Elder Holland says. He speaks of feeling a powerful witness that President Hunter had been strengthened to lead the Church. “I saw the hand of the Lord on him.”