Gospel Story Finder

I remember as a deacon watching the priests as they would officiate at the sacrament table. One priest had a lovely voice and would read the sacrament prayers with clear diction—as though he were competing in a speech contest. The older members of the ward would compliment him on his “golden voice.” I think he became a bit proud. Another priest in the ward had a hearing impediment which caused his speech to be unnatural in its sound. We deacons would [snicker] at times when Jack would bless the emblems. How we dared do so is beyond me: Jack had hands like a bear and could have crushed any of us. On one occasion Barry with the beautiful voice and Jack with the awkward delivery were assigned together at the sacrament table. The hymn was sung; the two priests broke the bread. Barry knelt to pray, and we closed our eyes. But nothing happened. Soon we deacons opened our eyes to see what was causing the delay. I shall ever remember Barry frantically searching the table for the little white card on which were printed the sacrament prayers. It was nowhere to be found. What to do? Barry’s face turned pink, then crimson, as the congregation began to look in his direction. Then Jack, with that bear-like hand, reached up and gently tugged Barry back to the bench. He, himself, then knelt on the little stool and began to pray: “Oh God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it. …” He continued the prayer, and the bread was then passed. Jack also blessed the water, and it was passed. What respect we deacons gained that day for Jack who, though handicapped in speech, had memorized the sacred prayers. Barry, too, had a new appreciation for Jack. A lasting bond of friendship had been established.

After our family moved a hundred miles south to Santa Barbara, Arthur performed a simple service for me that has made all the difference. My mission call in 1950 came while the Korean War was raging. As I was about to depart for the mission, a telegram came from the Missionary Department requiring that I obtain a written release from my San Luis Obispo draft board as a condition of entering the Salt Lake Mission Home. Although obtaining such a release seemed impossible, we decided to try. Mother and I drove to San Luis Obispo, without an appointment, but acting on the impulse of the Spirit. As we neared San Luis Obispo, another impression came to first visit our friend Arthur at the high school.

“I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll call the chairman at the draft board. He is a friend of mine. We serve on the Boy Scouts council together,” Arthur said. The call resulted in an invitation to come at once for an interview. As we sat across the desk from him, the chairman explained the difficulties in our request, then said, “I’m going to sign this release. I know of no better man than Arthur Godfrey. If he believes this is right, I will take his word. There is no one I respect as much as I do Arthur.” Instead of going to war I went to Montana and Wyoming to share the gospel. Those two years have made all the difference in my life. I owe them to my friend and to our Lord.

Angela stormed into the house, slamming her books onto the kitchen table. Her younger brother Caleb watched in shocked silence.
“I’m never going to school again!” Angela yelled. Her anger turned to tears as she dropped into a chair. Between sobs, she wailed, “Sheela Kelly is making my life miserable. I tried to be nice to her when she called me names. I ignored her when she teased me about my clothes. Then today she told everyone that I told her secrets about Ammon Young. Now Ammon’s afraid to talk to me.”
Mom put her arms around Angela. Angela raised her tearstained face. “Mom, Ammon’s the only other Church member in my grade. We always help each other choose the right.” She laid her head against Mom’s shoulder and cried.
Caleb, trying to help, said, “Jesus said to pray for our enemies. Maybe you should pray that Sheela gets really sick and misses lots of school.”
“I don’t think that is what Jesus meant,” Mom gently corrected.
“Maybe you could pray that Sheela moves to another country,” Caleb suggested.
Mom shook her head. “No, Caleb—but you’re right that we should pray for our enemies. In fact, this Sunday is fast Sunday. Let’s use this opportunity to fast for Sheela. When we combine faith, prayers, and fasting, miracles can happen.”
Angela, who had calmed down a bit, sniffled and added, “Like the time we all fasted and prayed for Sister Smith’s baby when he was born two months too soon?”
“That’s right, Angela,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father blessed us for our faith. He always does.”
Angela prayed many times throughout the weekend that Sheela would stop being mean. As she fasted, she hardly noticed when her stomach growled.
Before leaving for school on Monday, Angela knelt once again. “Heavenly Father, please help Sheela to stop being mean. I’ve fasted and prayed. I have faith that Thou canst change her. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Angela bounced happily down the stairs.
“Have a great day,” Mom said.
“Oh, I will—I just know it!” Angela replied.
She was sure she would when she arrived at school and found her teacher had rearranged the desks. Angela was no longer sitting next to Sheela. Angela silently offered a prayer of thanks. Ammon even smiled at her as he walked past her desk. This really is going to be a great day! she thought.
After lunch, she stopped by the rest room to make sure no food was stuck in her braces. Her heart raced when she noticed Sheela. Summoning her courage, Angela smiled and said, “Hi, Sheela—did you have a fun weekend?”
Sheela just smiled—not exactly a friendly smile but a smile. The two girls left the rest room at the same time.
“Hello, Sheela. Hello, Angela,” Mrs. Keiter, the music teacher, said as she passed by.
“Hello,” the girls answered. Angela was glad Sheela had not said or done anything mean. She was happy, too, when Sheela went to the office instead of out to the playground. Again, Angela offered a quiet prayer of gratitude.
A few minutes before school was over for the day, Angela was called to the principal’s office.
As she walked past Sheela’s desk on her way to the office, Sheela smirked, “Good luck.” It made Angela feel cold all over.
Mr. Cooper was waiting for Angela when she arrived. “Angela, I’ve received a report that you scratched ‘Angela loves Ammon’ on one of the walls in the rest room. The student who reported this said Mrs. Keiter saw you leaving there during lunch. Mrs. Keiter confirmed you were there at that time.”
Angela was stunned. How could this be? Hadn’t she fasted and prayed and used all her faith for Heavenly Father to make Sheela be nice? Sheela had been in the rest room at the same time. She must have scratched the wall.
“Mr. Cooper,” Angela said softly, “I did go into the rest room after lunch, but I didn’t scratch anything on the wall.”
“I’m sorry, Angela, but I have your word against another student’s and a teacher’s. You will help the janitor, Mr. Hamblin, during recess for a week. Maybe that will help you respect school property more.”
Caleb knew by the look on Angela’s face that things had not gone well. He walked silently beside her on the way home from the bus stop. Entering the kitchen first, he blurted out, “Angela’s faith didn’t work.”
“Caleb! That’s not nice,” Mom scolded.
“No, Mom, Caleb’s right,” Angela sighed. “I must not have enough faith for Heavenly Father to make Sheela be nice.” She told Mom about her day.
“Angela, we can’t pray away another person’s agency, no matter how much faith we have,” Mom explained. “When we pray for our enemies, it changes how we feel about them and brings us peace. We change for the better, and sometimes our goodness helps our enemies to change. Sadly, some never change. But we should never let our enemies choose how we will act.”
“So what does Angela do about Sheela?” Caleb interrupted. “How does all this help her if Sheela is still mean?”
Angela nodded. “I thought faith could produce miracles.”
“It does. I promise you it does,” Mom assured her. “Do you remember the story of Alma and his people in the land of Helam?” Mom reached for her scriptures.
“A little,” Angela said. “Alma’s people were righteous, but they still were captured by the Lamanites. Things got even worse when the Lamanites put Amulon, one of the wicked priests of King Noah, in charge of Alma’s people.”
“And Amulon was Alma’s enemy,” Caleb added. “He knew Alma had believed the prophet Abinadi and had tried to save him from being burned.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Amulon made slaves of Alma and his people. He even put guards over them to kill anyone caught praying.”
“But they still prayed in their hearts,” Caleb added.
“And the Lord answered their prayers,” Mom continued. “He didn’t help them escape right away, but He helped them with their trials. Let’s read what happened in Mosiah 24:15: ‘And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.’
“So, what do you think you should pray for now?” Mom asked gently.
Angela sat quietly, then answered, “To endure my trials cheerfully.”
The next day, after sanding and painting over the writing in the rest room, Angela was emptying trash cans when Sheela walked by. Loudly she said to the girls with her, “It looks like we have a new janitor at our school.” The group left, giggling.
“Please help me to be cheerful and patient,” Angela prayed in her heart.
Just then Mr. Hamblin walked up. “Angela, you’re a good worker.” Then he smiled a big smile. “You didn’t scratch those words on the wall, did you?”
Angela shook her head.
“That’s what I told Mr. Cooper. And while we were talking, Ammon Young came to report he’d overheard Sheela Kelly bragging about doing it herself and getting you in trouble.” Mr. Hamblin smiled again. “Mr. Cooper wants to see you in his office. He’s a fair man. I think you’ll be happy to talk with him again.”
Patience and cheerfulness, prayers and faith, Angela thought. They really do produce miracles. I don’t think my troubles with Sheela are over, but I’ll keep trying to do what’s right. Maybe I’ll try to talk with her again. And as she hurried toward the principal’s office, she silently prayed, Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for helping me with my trials.

When I was about six, my father bought the only small store in town. He also kept the farm. We were very poor, and Dad worked hard so that he could pay the bills. While Dad worked on the farm, my sister and I worked almost every day in the store. We had two gas pumps out front, and even as a youngster I learned how to pump gas into cars. I also learned how to write up sales. Sometimes I took care of the store all alone, even though I was quite young.
Mother spent most of her time in bed because she was sick, so I learned early to do chores and be responsible. I did the family wash and ironed my own clothes. From her bed, Mother taught me how to make bread, and that became my weekly chore. Of course, few children like to clean their rooms, and I was normal. I could put that off because it was upstairs and Mother didn’t get up there often! But I did all my other jobs as best I could.
Dad was in the bishopric for seventeen years, practically the whole time I was growing up. My sister and I would walk the three-quarters of a mile to church and sit in the congregation and watch Dad up on the stand. Then we’d walk home and tell Mother about what we’d learned. Mother’s health gradually improved, and from the time I finished high school, she lived a normal, active life.
Seeing Dad up on the stand is a fond memory because I knew that Dad was doing what Heavenly Father wanted him to do. As long as he was trying to do what was right and serving Heavenly Father, everything was OK. Nothing was lacking in our lives. I knew that Dad was doing his best. I knew that Heavenly Father was taking care of Mother. And I knew that all I had to do was do my best, and Heavenly Father would help us.
We all must have faith in Jesus Christ. When we have faith in Jesus Christ and hard things happen in our lives, we can be strong. We can know that Heavenly Father loves us, He is aware of us, and He is there for us.

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.

Edward Partridge was the first Presiding Bishop of the Restored Church. Born in 1793, he became dissatisfied with the religions of his day when he was in his twenties. And, in 1830, after investigating the Church, he was baptized by the Prophet Joseph Smith. The Prophet said of Edward, “he was a pattern of piety, and one of the Lord’s great men, known by his steadfastness and patient endurance to the end” (“History of Joseph Smith,” Times and Seasons, 15 Sept. 1843, vol. 4, 320).
Edward became the Presiding Bishop of the Church less than two months after his baptism, and he certainly needed the “patient endurance” mentioned by the Prophet Joseph. He and his family were harshly persecuted by the mobs in Missouri and then in Nauvoo. On one occasion he was dragged from his home and tarred and feathered by a mob of more than 200 men. But Bishop Partridge’s faith carried him through his trials.
The bishop died when he became very ill in Nauvoo. He was only 46. Of Edward Partridge, the Lord said, “his heart is pure before me, for he is like unto Nathanael of old, in whom there is no guile” (D&C 41:11). And in the Doctrine and Covenants we learn that the Lord received Edward Partridge unto himself (see D&C 124:19).

Sometimes it’s difficult for Jenna to have a brother with special needs, but she has learned to be loving and compassionate from helping him. One time their grandparents gave them a few dollars to buy a toy at a gift shop. When they came back, Zack had a toy and Jenna didn’t. “Jenna had given Zack her money so he could have the toy that he wanted,” her mom says. “She always does little things like that without expecting to be rewarded for it.”

“But I didn’t join right off,” Jack said. “I kind of sat back and doubted for a while, but I wish I hadn’t.” His Las Vegas excursion helped him appreciate the truths they were teaching him. “I looked around at the people there and thought ‘Lots of these people have money, but they’re still looking for something to make them happy,’” Jack said. Maybe he really could find what he was looking for in the Church.

He’d previously been attending Sunday School with a lackadaisical attitude, but now he decided to take the gospel seriously and learn some more. He began the missionary lessons and discovered that it would take the gospel to make him happy—happier than banking billions from bubble gum ever could. “Once the missionaries started teaching me, it only took about a month and a half before I was baptized,” he said.

The Young Women of the Mt. Vernon Branch of the Columbus Ohio Stake wanted to get to know their branch president, Kurt Southam, a little bit better. Under the guidance of Cynthia and Bill Dougherty, the girls went to work gathering information and planning the surprise evening under the guise of a youth talent show.
After the first talent number, the spotlight was turned from the stage and fell on the branch president in the audience. Then as the details of his life were told, his brothers and sisters who had flown in for the event were ushered on stage to tell interesting stories of his youth.
The activity was a special one for the young people and the other branch members. The event was covered by the local newspaper.

During my growing-up years in the small farming community of Spring City, Utah, an opportunity afforded itself each summer to be with my father alone for two weeks herding sheep in the mountain range of the Manti-La Sal. On one occasion the fog rested heavily in the area to the extent that you could not see your outstretched hand in front of you, and the evening was drawing nigh.
My father suggested that I return to camp, and he would soon follow. I remember questioning how I would be able to find the camp amidst the fog. My father simply said to me, “Give the horse the reins, and he will get you to camp.” Following this counsel, I loosened my grip on the reins, and with encouragement to the horse, the journey began. At times I would be struck in the face by a low-hanging limb I couldn’t see or have my leg brush close to a tree. Eventually, the horse came to a complete stop, and the silhouette of the camp was in view.
Sometimes we may not always be able to immediately find the desired way before us, but the wisdom of those who have gone before, coupled with the wisdom of those who are with us still, will be our guide if we let them have the reins.

Tom put the final block on his tower. “That does it!” he said. He sat back and smiled as he looked over his creation. Suddenly his bedroom door swung open. His little sister Addison ran into the room.
“Can I play?” she asked.
“No,” Tom said quickly. “Go away.” He just felt like being alone. He had been with friends all day at school. Besides, sometimes Addison broke his buildings.
Addison frowned and started to cry. She turned around and walked away.
Tom sighed. He reached over to grab his mini army figure, who began a heroic ascent up the tower. Tom felt a little bad for talking to his sister like that. But it was his room, after all. She could find something else to do. The figure jumped off the building ledge and somersaulted down to the ground.
Someone knocked on Tom’s door. “Come in,” he said.
Mom stepped into the room. “Did something happen with Addison?” she asked.
“She wanted to play in here,” Tom said. “But I don’t want her to break my tower.”
“You worked hard on that, huh?” Mom asked.
Tom nodded.
“I think your sister is feeling a little sad, though,” Mom said. “She looks up to you a lot, and she doesn’t get to see you much while you’re at school. Is there anything you could do together for a little while?”
Tom thought for a moment. Part of him still wanted to be alone. But he also wanted to be a good older brother. “I guess,” he said.
“Thanks, Tom,” Mom said as she walked out.
A few minutes later, Addison hesitantly stepped back into the room. “Hi,” she said.
“Hey, come here,” said Tom. “I want to show you something.”
Addison sat down on the bed next to her big brother and looked up at him. Tom pulled out his collection of animal cards.
“All right,” said Tom. He held up two pictures. “Would you rather be this snow leopard or this tarantula?”
Addison giggled and pointed to the leopard, her favorite animal. Tom smiled and handed her the card. They took turns picking their favorite animals until Dad called them to dinner. Tom looked at the clock. He couldn’t believe how fast the time had gone!
When they got downstairs, Tom told Mom and Dad about the game. “It was fun!” he said as he sat by Addison at dinner. “Want me to read to you tonight?”
“Yes!” Addison said. “Can you read the snow leopard book?”
“Sure.” He knew she’d pick that one. He might not have time to read what he wanted before bed, but he realized it was worth it to see his sister smile.
“Anytime,” he said.

Brothers and sisters, six months ago as we met together in our general conference, my sweet wife, Frances, lay in the hospital, having suffered a devastating fall just a few days earlier. In May, after weeks of valiantly struggling to overcome her injuries, she slipped into eternity. Her loss has been profound. She and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple on October 7, 1948. Tomorrow would have been our 65th wedding anniversary. She was the love of my life, my trusted confidant, and my closest friend. To say that I miss her does not begin to convey the depth of my feelings.
This conference marks 50 years since I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles by President David O. McKay. Through all these years I have felt nothing but the full and complete support of my sweet companion. Countless are the sacrifices she made so that I could fulfill my calling. Never did I hear a word of complaint from her as I was often required to spend days and sometimes weeks away from her and from our children. She was an angel, indeed.
I wish to express my thanks, as well as those of my family, for the tremendous outpouring of love which has come to us since Frances’s passing. Hundreds of cards and letters were sent from around the world expressing admiration for her and condolences to our family. We received dozens of beautiful floral arrangements. We are grateful for the numerous contributions which have been offered in her name to the General Missionary Fund of the Church. On behalf of those of us whom she left behind, I express deep gratitude for your kind and heartfelt expressions.
Of utmost comfort to me during this tender time of parting have been my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the knowledge I have that my dear Frances lives still. I know that our separation is temporary. We were sealed in the house of God by one having authority to bind on earth and in heaven. I know that we will be reunited one day and will never again be separated. This is the knowledge that sustains me.

Louisa Lula Greene Richards was 23 years old when she was called to be the editor of the Women’s Exponent, a Church paper established in 1872. It served as a medium for LDS women to righteously represent themselves against unfriendly comments and gross misrepresentations and defend the principles and doctrines of their faith. This timid, retiring young woman lacked confidence in her capabilities, but she possessed implicit faith in her Heavenly Father’s power and goodness. So prayerfully and with reluctance she consented to accept the call from the prophet and became one of the first woman journalists in Utah.

It was while we were finishing a serving of the thin mashed potatoes the French call purée that Elder Granville told Sister Dupont a story.
“Did you ever hear about the missionary who was eating dinner and asked his companion to pass the butter? The butter was right in front of him, but he couldn’t see it because it was so close.”
“What?”
“Simple. It’s like you and the gospel. All these years your husband has had it right here in front of you, but you couldn’t see it because it was so close. You keep asking where the butter is when it’s right in front of your plate.”
It may not have been the strongest analogy, but Elder Granville was trying. When we got home that night, he brought me a copy of the Book of Mormon.
“Why don’t you sign this with me?” he said, turning to a dedication on the flyleaf. “It’s for Sister Dupont.”
I looked at what he’d written.
“Voici le beurre,” it said. “Here is the butter.”

Soon I made friends at school and looked forward to seeing them each day. One friend, Larry Dawson, lived about a mile from my home. Larry invited me to his house for a birthday party. I had never been to a birthday party before. It was so much fun! I still remember some of the special toys Larry received—especially his new toy fire engine.
Larry and I rode the bus to school because we lived too far from school to walk. Larry got off the bus at the bus stop on the main highway just before I got off. He then had to cross the highway and walk half a mile (about 1 km) to his home. At that time cars did not stop when a school bus was loading or unloading students.
One day as we were returning home from school, a car speeding by the bus hit and killed my friend. I felt very sad. I missed being with Larry at school and on the bus. My mother and father comforted me by explaining that even though I wouldn’t see Larry anymore in this life, his spirit continued to live in the spirit world. Larry was so kind and good that I knew he would be worthy to live with our Heavenly Father. As I grew, I learned more about our Father’s plan for His children.

My desire to attend the temple began one morning in December 2018. I sat in bed reading an April 1999 general conference talk by Elder Richard G. Scott (1928–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He spoke about the importance of being worthy to enter the temple. He said the temple “is a place of peace, solitude, and inspiration. Regular attendance will enrich your life with greater purpose.” He went on to add this stunning statement: “Go to the temple. You know it is the right thing to do. Do it now.”2
I highlighted this passage, looked at my 2019 stake calendar, and noted that my branch was scheduled to visit the Johannesburg South Africa Temple every second Friday of the month. I made a goal to go to the temple grounds at least once a month either with my branch or by myself, even though I did not yet have a temple recommend.
In early January, I spoke with my branch president about receiving a recommend and eventually entering the temple. I was eager to achieve this goal.
In August, I obtained a limited-use recommend and was able to visit the baptistry with the youth of my branch. I was baptized for my two uncles and maternal grandfather. I also started taking the temple preparation class in anticipation of receiving my endowment. Until then I continued visiting the temple and participating in baptisms.
Finally, on November 2, 2019, I entered the temple with my fiancée, and we walked out as husband and wife, sealed together for time and eternity. Words cannot express the spirit that attended this great occasion. My wife and I continued to attend the temple. We had many precious and sacred experiences until the worldwide temple closure in 2020 due to COVID-19.
Sister and Brother Mncwabe (center) on the day of their sealing, with family members.
Photograph courtesy of the Mncwabe family
My mother’s sister is not a member of the Church, but she had come to the temple for our sealing. Afterward, she shared an experience she had after visiting the temple grounds. She had a dream that she was again at the temple for our sealing, but this time all my family members (including those I had performed baptisms for) were with us. “Your mother was also there,” she said, “but she kept saying, ‘I can’t see my son. Why can’t I see my son?’”
I sobbed after hearing this, and I knew why my mother could not see me. She had passed on in 2002, and I had been procrastinating having her ordinances done for her in the temple. I resolved to do this as soon as possible. Soon I was privileged to perform her baptism and say her full name as I baptized the young woman who was acting as proxy for my mother.
I have a strong testimony that the temple is the house of God. We can access His power when we are there. I also know that the temple offers blessings to all of God’s children, whether living or dead.

I started working for my Gospel in Action Award when I was nine years old, including learning the Articles of Faith. I earned the Award just after my tenth birthday.
My Primary leader tested me, and my dad, who is the bishop of our ward, tested me, too, to make sure that I knew the Articles of Faith well. I received my certificate and my pendant in sacrament meeting, and I wear it every Sunday.
The Primary presidency has given me a special assignment—to help teach the younger children in Primary the Articles of Faith. I am grateful for the opportunity to help others achieve their awards. I look forward to helping them each week.

When Len Hope was about seventeen years old, he spent two weeks attending a Baptist revival near his home in Alabama, in the southern United States. At night, the young African American man would come home from the revival, lie down in the cotton fields, and look up at the heavens. He would beg God for religion, but in the morning the only thing he had to show for his effort was clothing wet with dew.
One year later, Len decided to be baptized in a local church. Soon after, though, he dreamed that he needed to be baptized again. Confused, he started reading the Bible—so much so that he worried his friends. “If you don’t stop reading so much, you will go crazy,” they said. “Already the asylum is full of preachers.”
Len did not stop reading. One day, he learned that the Holy Ghost could lead him to truth. At the advice of a preacher, he retreated to the woods to pray in an old empty house hidden in a tangle of bushes. There he wept for hours, pleading with God for the Holy Ghost.
A short time later, as Len waited for an answer to his many prayers, a Latter-day Saint missionary gave his sister a tract about God’s plan of salvation. Len read it and believed its message. He also learned that Latter-day Saint missionaries had authority to confer the gift of the Holy Ghost on those who accepted baptism.
Seeking out the elders, Len asked if they would baptize him.
“Yes, gladly,” said one of the missionaries, “but if I were you, I would read a little more.”
Len got copies of the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, Pearl of Great Price, and other Church books—and soon read them all. But before he could be baptized, he was drafted to fight in the world war. The army shipped him overseas, where he served bravely at the front. Then, after returning home to Alabama, he was baptized by a local Church member on June 22, 1919, and finally received the gift of the Holy Ghost.1

For their part, Toshiko and her husband, Tokichi, struggled with aspects of being Latter-day Saints—especially paying tithing. Tokichi did not make much money, and sometimes they wondered if they had enough to pay for their son’s school lunch. They were also hoping to buy a house.

After one Church meeting, Toshiko asked a missionary about tithing. “Japanese people are very poor now after the war,” she said. “Tithing is so hard for us. Must we pay?”3

The elder replied that God commanded everyone to pay tithing, and he spoke of the blessings of obeying the principle. Toshiko was skeptical—and a little angry. “This is American thinking,” she told herself.

Other missionaries encouraged her to have faith. One sister missionary promised Toshiko that paying tithing could help her family reach their goal of owning their own house. Wanting to be obedient, Toshiko and Tokichi decided to pay their tithing and trust that blessings would come.4

She and Tokichi also began to see blessings come from paying tithing. They purchased an affordable lot in the city and drew up blueprints for a house. They then applied for a home loan through a new government program, and once they received approval to build, they started work on a foundation.

The process went smoothly until a building inspector noticed that their lot was inaccessible to firefighters. “This land is not land that is suitable for building a house,” he told them. “You cannot proceed any further with the construction.”

Unsure what to do, Toshiko and Tokichi spoke to the missionaries. “The six of us will fast and pray for you,” an elder told them. “You do the same.”

For the next two days, the Yanagidas fasted and prayed with the missionaries. Another inspector then came out to reassess their lot. He had a reputation for being strict, and at first he gave the Yanagidas little hope of passing the inspection. But as he looked over the lot, he noticed a solution. In an emergency, the fire department could get to the property simply by removing a nearby fence. The Yanagidas could build their house after all.

“I guess you two must have done something exceptionally good in the past,” the inspector told them. “In all my years I have never been so accommodating.”

Toshiko and Tokichi were overjoyed. They had fasted and prayed and paid their tithing. And just as the sister missionary had promised, they would have a home of their own.6

Elder Stephen B. Oveson, formerly of the Seventy, said that one important aspect of working is having a good attitude. He related an experience from his youth when he had a job he didn’t like:
“One afternoon I was hoeing weeds with a friend named Arlen Jenkins. I was complaining and moaning and groaning about the hard work, but he looked at me and said, ‘You know, you really need to consider that if we weren’t doing this, we might be doing something worse.’ That was his attitude. He was always happy doing any type of work because he knew he could be doing something worse. I have tried to reflect that attitude in every job I have had since that time” (“Good Work,” New Era, Jan. 2007, 38–39).