Gospel Story Finder

Recently my husband, Mel, and I met a volunteer tour guide named Mollie Lenthal as we visited a museum in Australia. We found out that Mollie, a lovely woman in her 70s, has no children and has never married. She is an only child, and her parents have been deceased for many years. Her closest relatives are two cousins who live on another continent. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the Spirit testifying to me, almost as if Heavenly Father were speaking: “Mollie is not alone! Mollie is my daughter! I am her Father! She is a very important daughter in my family, and she is never alone!”
Just as the Lord has testified to me that He has not forgotten His precious daughter Mollie Lenthal, I testify that He has not forgotten you! Whatever sin or weakness or pain or struggle or trial you are going through, He knows and understands those very moments. He loves you! And He will carry you through those moments, just as He did Mary and Martha. He has paid the price that He might know how to succor you. Cast your burdens upon Him. Tell your Heavenly Father how you feel. Tell Him about your pain and afflictions and then give them to Him. Search the scriptures daily. There you will also find great solace and help.

In 2020, my husband and I were looking for money to bring our two sons, Aaron and Moses, back home. They had just completed their studies in Bangalore (India), but our efforts to raise money to bring them home proved to be unsuccessful. So, we decided to leave this matter in the hands of our Lord.
In the course of that very year, the COVID-19 pandemic was rampant in Bangalore, with an increasing rate of infection. We were very worried about our two sons.
On a certain Wednesday evening, after saying my prayer, I felt impressed to hold a fast. I asked my two sons to abide in prayer while I was fasting. I said to them, “My sons, tonight we are going to ask for a miracle that will put the adversary to shame, just as Pharaoh was put to shame as he watched the Israelites go through the Red Sea on dry ground. At midnight, we will wake up, buckle-up, and start praying.” I simply told my husband to wake me up at 11 p.m. under the pretext that I had some work to do. That very night, I read the scriptures, poured my soul in much prayer, and reflected upon our Heavenly Father’s wonders. On the following day, the Lord attended to our request by sending someone to purchase our plot of land. We had been looking for a buyer for the past twelve months to raise funds for the transportation for our sons. Our miracle had happened!

Norberto and his family were brought into the Church through an uncle they call “Ton Ton.” Ton Ton bought their family a subscription to Etoile in 1985, and so when he visited the family in 1991, they already had an idea of what the Church was about. Ton Ton said, “The Church has now come to Madagascar. Let’s go find it.”

They found the meetinghouse, but the first time they attended, Norberto’s father, Elie, couldn’t go. He still had responsibilities with the young men’s group in another church. His mother, Esther, came home from that first meeting and told her husband, “We’ve found the right church.” He went with them the next week, and they all accepted the gospel. Norberto was only a baby at the time, but he was baptized when he turned eight, even though he was afraid to go under the water.

When I was 10 years old, my family became refugees in a new land. I had always been a good student in school—that is, until we arrived in West Germany. There my educational experience was a significantly different one. The geography we studied in my school was new to me. The history we studied was also very different. Before, I had been learning Russian as a second language; now, it was English. This was hard for me. Indeed, there were moments when I truly believed my tongue simply was not made to speak English.
Because so much of the curriculum was new and strange to me, I fell behind. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder if I was simply not smart enough for school.
Fortunately I had a teacher who taught me to be patient. He taught me that steady and consistent work—patient persistence—would help me to learn.
Over time, difficult subjects became clearer—even English. Slowly I began to see that if I applied myself consistently, I could learn. It didn’t come quickly, but with patience, it did come.

He ministered in power to relieve the considerable suffering experienced by the Saints. On the “day of God’s power,” July 22, 1839, Joseph lay stricken with a vile disease, as were many of the Saints. Neighbor cared for neighbor, parents for children, and children for parents. There were so many ill that the caregivers were overwhelmed and exhausted. Moved upon by the Spirit, Joseph rose from his sick bed and went across the river to Montrose, Iowa. Dozens were immediately healed on that day. He states in his journal, “Many of the sick were this day raised up by the power of God.”[40]

One Monday in Frankfurt, I got hung up at work and arrived at the church just after the carpool of our group of young single adults had driven away to a distant apartment across town.

For me, this was a disaster. Some of you will know that the streets of Frankfurt are designed like a spider web that has been through a fire. The streets wander through each other in random disorder, crossing rivers and tram tracks and back again. Someone seemed to go out at night to reverse one-way street signs so that even when you thought you knew where you were going, you could not go that way. I remembered that a couple of months earlier I had ridden through the dark to this same apartment, crammed in the crowded back seat of a car, but I remembered nothing of the route. I knew only that it was many miles of tangled streets away.

I drove home a sad, dejected soldier. I remember folding my arms, intent on grumbling a little, and saying, “Heavenly Father . . .” But before I could continue with “I am really trying here,” something of a map flashed in my head: a well-lit sequence of streets started at the church and traveled down Eckenheimer Landstraße, through a number of intersections, around a traffic circle, left, right, left, over a bridge, more turns, and onto a broad-bending street in front of an apartment building.

I was incredulous. There was not a chance I could drive to that place. But I returned to the church to make a faithless try and followed the route that had been impressed upon my mind. After driving perhaps twenty minutes (and making about forty uncertain decisions), I turned onto a broad street alongside an apartment building that filled the entire length of the long, bending city block. I was stunned to see that I was pulling up to what might be the right building.

Now I had a new problem. There were several narrow tunnels through the building into small parking areas behind that accessed stairwells to the four floors of apartments above.

“Impossible,” I thought. “I don’t know if any of those is the right drive-through, and besides, there are hundreds of apartments.” But it seemed to be a miracle that I had gotten this far, so I slowly drove past several drive-throughs and blindly turned into one.

Standing at the base of a dark, cold, four-story building, I thought, “Even if this is the correct stairwell in the correct building, they could be anywhere on any floor.” I started climbing the stairs, with little hope of a hint. Ultimately I stopped on the third floor. This way or that? That way. Was the door on the left or right side of the hall? I walked past eight or ten doors, my feeble faith vaporizing by the moment. I thought, “I may not even be in the right building. Does my faith require me to just start knocking on random doors?” I stopped to contemplate that question and heard singing: “The Spirit of God like a fire is burning!”

I opened the door, the most astonished twenty-three-year-old in the Church. Heavenly Father had sent a shaft of light that replaced my bewilderment with wonder. Later that night I couldn’t even find my way home without a guide.
What were the chances?

Eventually I returned to BYU, still confused about how it could have made sense for me to drop out of school for three long years. Subsequently, many reasons have become clear.

After returning to school, I started dating a girl I had met in Frankfurt, a girl from Tooele, Utah, whose father had taken a job in Germany—a girl so far beyond me in every way that I could never have gotten her attention at BYU in Utah if I had not known her first in Germany, where she was in a state of diminished capacity as a fellow stranger in a strange land. And so it came to pass that against all odds she agreed to marry me. What were those chances?

I have learned that the Lord sometimes withholds blessings from us to eventually deliver undeniably discernible miracles. I would serve one hundred army enlistments for that one stunning miracle that formed our family.

Now at BYU, I was serving in the bishopric of a singles ward and became friends with the ward finance clerk, who had just returned from a mission in France. He finished his finance degree at the same time I finished law school, and he invited me to help him build a company. Thirty-five years later, that company touches millions of people in fifty countries. I marvel that but for that burst of light in the temple years before, I would have come and gone from BYU and never met Blake Roney, who has enabled so many miracles in our lives.

The list of blessings flying from that still, small spark of inspiration goes on and on. None of these things are coincidences. They are consequences of a string of unpredictable heavenly interventions that have burst through the veil as flashes of light through what has at times felt like a drab, never-ending gray wall.

I remember vividly an experience I had as a small boy. One day while playing with my friends, I accidentally broke a window in a store near our home. As the glass shattered and the security alarm blared, a paralyzing fear filled my heart and mind. I realized immediately I was doomed to spend the remainder of my life in prison. My parents eventually coaxed me out from a hiding place under my bed and helped me to make amends with the store owner. Fortunately, my jail sentence was commuted.
The fear I felt that day was overwhelming and real. You undoubtedly have experienced much greater feelings of dread after learning about a personal health challenge, discovering a family member in difficulty or danger, or observing disturbing world events. In such instances, the distressing emotion of fear arises because of impending danger, uncertainty, or pain and through experiences that are unexpected, sometimes sudden, and likely to produce a negative outcome.

Due to his autism, my younger son was afraid of being in large groups and meeting new people, but the ward welcomed us with open arms and did everything they could to accommodate our needs. The members set aside a special room at the back of the chapel just for my son, and they fulfilled our request to avoid making eye contact with him until he felt more at ease. Even when one of my children would disrupt sacrament meeting, we were treated with the utmost respect and kindness.
I saw my sons unfold in the warmth of the ward’s embrace. They quickly made new friends, and my sons even started to attend Primary classes on days that I was unable to attend church.
We were eventually baptized, a memory that still brings tears to my eyes. At the baptismal service, the ward members—understanding my children’s fear of crowds—tiptoed into the back of the room after the boys had been seated to avoid frightening them. Afterward, we were offered a mountain of congratulatory sweets, and the love in the room was so palpable that my sons remarked, “I want to be baptized again!”

As a 16-year-old priest, I was just beginning a part-time job as a radio announcer at a local station. After I offered a prayer at the sacrament table in our ward, a girl who was present told me I sounded like I was reading a commercial. Can you imagine the shame I felt? After 50 years that rebuke still stings. Brethren, remember the significance of those sacred prayers. You are praying as a servant of the Lord in behalf of the entire congregation.

In 1960 as I was nearing my 12th birthday and getting ready to graduate as a Top Pilot from Primary, I had not completed memorizing the last and longest article of faith, the 13th. It didn't seem to matter to me that the pin recognizing this accomplishment would not be added to my green primary bandelo. I was more concerned with joining my buddies, who had moved up from the Primary program. The Sunday was fast approaching when our Branch President would welcome us into the Young Men program. That Saturday night my mother received a call from my primary teacher, Sister Becky Modelick. I do not remember the level of conversation except that she told me, "Tomorrow morning at 7:00am, get yourself ready and go on over to Sister Modelicks home." Needless to say at 7:00am the next morning under the tutelage of my faithful Primary teacher I completed and passed off the 13th article of faith. I will always be grateful and remember Sister Modelick.

Before the doors of the Recife Brazil Temple open for another day of administering saving ordinances, 70-year-old María José de Araújo arises to prepare for another day of selfless service.

To get to the temple, María must travel an hour and a half on four separate buses from her home in Cabo de Santo Agostinho, south of Recife, on Brazil’s northeast coast. But before she can leave, she prepares food and other necessities for a blind cousin she cares for in her home.

“María is a good example of serving others,” says Cleto P. Oliveira, temple recorder. “Since the temple was dedicated in December 2000, she has volunteered to serve here every day the temple has been open. She even comes on holidays.”

From 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. every Tuesday through Saturday, María works in the temple cafeteria, washing dishes and making salads. She would work longer, she says, but with a long bus ride home, she must leave early enough to return before dark.

Brother Oliveira tells María she doesn’t need to come to the temple every day, but he admits that he would need two people to replace her. “She just smiles and says she has dedicated her life to the Lord,” he says.

For María, serving in the temple daily is a great privilege.

“My Father in Heaven has blessed me with good health, and my goal is to continue to come every day as long as my health permits,” she says. “I have made a covenant to dedicate all of my talents and abilities to serve the Lord. When I arrive home after serving in the temple, I don’t feel tired. The Lord has blessed me in that way.”

“The temple is my life,” María says. “People who don’t come to the temple are missing out on a great opportunity and blessing. By serving in the temple, we come to understand the real meaning and power of the temple.”

Eliana Verges de Lerda, a member of the Church in Argentina, met her friend Anabel when they were both six years old. Their friendship grew as they went to school together. During that time, Eliana never hid the fact that she was a member of the Church.
“I felt very comfortable talking about the gospel with Anabel, even though we didn’t share the same beliefs,” she says.
When the girls were 14, Anabel agreed to listen to the missionaries, but she decided not to be baptized.
Eliana was disappointed, but this did not stop her from continuing their friendship; nor did it stop the gospel discussions. A few years later, Eliana invited Anabel to attend seminary with her. During the lesson, Anabel felt the Spirit very strongly. As Eliana prepared to go to the temple a few days later, Anabel told her, “I promise to go with you next time.” Anabel was baptized a short time after.
Anabel’s conversion did not take days; it took years. The process was possible because Eliana was her friend first—regardless of whether or not Anabel felt an interest in accepting the gospel.

During the open house of the Paris France Temple in 2017, Valérie and I had the special opportunity to serve as guides for a group of visitors from another faith.

As we walked together through the rooms of the temple, we had a delightful time sharing what we believe. At the end of the tour, one of our guests made a comment that I have never forgotten.

He said, “In our Church, we don’t believe in a life before this life, and we don’t know much about what comes after. But you Latter-day Saints seem to understand eternity. You seem to know where you come from, why you are here, and where you are going. Why is that?”

That question has stayed with me.

In the Doctrine and Covenants, we read: “Truth is knowledge of things as they are, and as they were, and as they are to come.” [7]

How grateful I am for the knowledge, restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith, of God’s plan of salvation and exaltation, which spans the past, the present, and the future. We know that we lived with God before this life, that our brief time on earth has a divine purpose, and that “through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah,” [8] we can one day be resurrected and return to the presence of our Heavenly Father.

1. “Lunch is ready!” Mom called.
2. Three-year-old Trevor raced to the kitchen and quickly sat down on the stool.
3. His eyes flew past his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and apple slices to the shiny green glass full of milk.
4. “Hooray!” he exclaimed. Trevor and his five-year-old sister, Andrea, both liked to drink from the beautiful green glass. Since there was only one green glass, they took turns. Today was Trevor’s day.
5. “But, Mom, I really wanted to have that glass today!” Andrea declared. The look on her face was stormy and disappointed as she stomped to the counter.
6. “I’m sorry, it’s Trevor’s turn today,” Mom said.
7. Trevor looked at his sister. He knew she had a cold and didn’t feel well. She was always loving and kind to him. She was quick to share, and she was a great playmate. Trevor knew he loved the green glass, but he loved Andrea more.
8. “Here, sister,” he said simply as he slid the glass by her plate. “In nursery, the teacher said when people are sad, we share.”
9. “Oh, Trevor!” Andrea said with a smiling face as she gave him a hug. Trevor knew her happy face and warm hug were better than drinking from the green glass.

During the Arab-Israeli Six-Day War of 1967, a midnight patrol of Israeli soldiers along the shore of the Sinai Peninsula spotted a faint green light hovering in the waters of the Red Sea just beyond a coral reef. Thinking that they had surprised a team of enemy frogmen, they fired explosive shells into the glowing area. The result, however, was not a spoiled enemy mission, but a beach strewn with the bodies of many small dark fish, from whose heads shone pairs of strange green lights.
What had fooled the Israeli soldiers was a school of flashlight fish, little known inhabitants of dark underwater caves and crevices that come to the surface of the sea on dark, moonless nights to forage for small organisms on the reef’s edge. Their sources of light are packets of a very unusual type of bacteria, billions of them in each packet, that give off a steady green glow. Located just under their eyes, they are used quite effectively by the fish as “headlights.” In fact, the fish can even turn them on and off by either blinking to cover them with an “eyelid” or by rotating them into protective pockets like the headlights of some automobiles.

I well recall one of the first anxious and earnest conversations with a temple attender after my service as temple president began in the Salt Lake Temple. A very thoughtful young lady had read through the relevant verses concerning the function of the temple as a house of learning and of instruction. She was perceptive enough to recognize that to know God and Christ, “the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent,” is “life eternal” (John 17:3). She knew also that we learn to know our Father and ultimately return to Him through Christ.
My testimony to her was that, for me, everything in the temple points ultimately to Christ and to our Father. The efficacy of the ordinances and covenants is in His atoning love and delegated authority—the authority of “the Holy Priesthood, after the Order of the Son of God” (D&C 107:3). But she had not yet made a clear connection in her own mind and heart how temple worship can become a critical key to knowing the Lord. …
The temple is of utmost importance in providing the setting for purifying and therefore sanctifying ourselves, which, as we learn about Christ, can lead us to that personal knowledge of Him and witness of Him that lead to the most precious of life’s gifts.
Temple learning and worship can be the university of eternal life through Jesus Christ. In the prayer of dedication at Kirtland, this petition was offered to the Lord: “Do thou grant, Holy Father, that all those who shall worship in this house may be taught words of wisdom … ;
“And that they may grow up in thee, and receive a fulness of the Holy Ghost” (D&C 109:14–15).
Is this accomplished by ceremonies and ritual? Yes, in part, if we understand the purpose, the symbolism, even as Adam and Eve were brought to understand it in the earliest days of mortality. But basically we learn through the substance of the message, the principles of eternal progression, of eternal life. It is around a few simple principles that we make covenants with the Lord. Recall Paul’s statement to the Romans that we are reconciled to God by Christ’s death, and saved “by his life” (Romans 5:10). To me this says that the principles of His holy life lead us to that fulness of salvation known as exaltation—loving, learning, serving, growing, creative life on a Godly level with loved ones and with the Father and the Son. In the temple we can learn to live as Christ lived on earth and as He and the Father live.
What are those principles which are central in His life that are taught in the temple and that relate to the covenants we make with the Lord? …
He loved in a way that perhaps only He and the Father really yet understand. But we are here to learn that, to learn to love enough to give. On battlefields and in hospital rooms and in the quiet heroic circumstances of unselfish devotion to parent or child, it has been demonstrated for me that there are people who have learned truly to love and sacrifice in His way.
As we choose and follow a course of giving, of caring, of graciousness and kindness, we come to understand that this is not an optional element of the gospel; it is the heart of it. Decency and honor, unselfishness, good manners, and good taste are expected of us. What really matters, after all, is what kind of people we are, what we are willing to give. … This we decide daily, hourly, as we learn and accept the direction of the Lord.
After the Crucifixion, Resurrection, and Ascension of the Savior, something happened to the surviving disciples, led by Peter, who in a time of stress had failed Him. Pentecost occurred—the coming of the Spirit—and those who had wavered stood strong in testimony and testifying. Chapters 1 to 5 of the book of Acts tell the story. The last verses of chapter 5 have dramatic impact. Gamaliel has intervened with his associates to give the disciples another chance, a little more time. So they are warned again to cease teaching and preaching Christ, are beaten once more, and released. The record says they departed the premises rejoicing that they were found worthy to suffer for Christ’s sake. Then, “daily in the temple, and in every house, they ceased not to teach and preach Jesus Christ” (Acts 5:42).
In like manner something should happen to us as we depart the temple in the spirit of 3 Nephi 17:3: “Therefore, go ye unto your homes, and ponder upon the things which I have said, and ask of the Father, in my name, that ye may understand, and prepare your minds for the morrow, and I come unto you again.”
A purifying spirit can cause us, acquainted now in a special way with the path followed and lighted by the Lord—and loving Him—to be new persons, practicing love and brotherhood, rallying to the will of the Lord, serving, sharing, loving, loyal to wholesome standards, seeking first the kingdom of God.
We need to purify our family lives and make our homes places where we “teach and preach” Jesus Christ daily but follow Him always. Our homes, our families, our individual lives should become centers of learning, centers of unselfishness and service. In the words of Rufus Jones, “Saints are not made for haloes and for inward thrills. They are made to become focus points of light and power. The true saint is a good mother, a good neighbor, a good constructive force in society, a fragrance and a blessing. The true saint is a dynamic Christian who exhibits in some definite spot the type of life which is fully realized in heaven.”1
Consider what to me is a clear and forceful key to the meaning of temples and temple worship. The Lord revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1836 the prayer that was offered at the dedication of the Kirtland Temple. The prayer became section 109 of the Doctrine and Covenants. One who sincerely desires to understand basic temple meaning could well read it over and over, especially its first touching, powerful two dozen verses. Verse 5 is a beautiful statement that merits deep consideration: “For thou knowest that we have done this work through great tribulation; and out of our poverty we have given of our substance to build a house to thy name, that the Son of Man might have a place to manifest himself to his people” (D&C 109:5; emphasis added).
How does He manifest Himself to His people in the temple?
Chiefly, I believe, through the beauty and compelling cogency of temple principles, ordinances, and covenants, through temple worship—through the spirit of revelation and other blessings of the Spirit available there for those whose minds and hearts are in tune, and who are patient and anxious to learn and to move their own lives toward Christlike ideals (see 3 Nephi 27:21, 27).
One example may suffice in illustrating the spiritual strength that comes to those who persevere in the service of the Lord in temples. I came into the temple one morning about 4:30 a.m., grateful to have been able to plow through heavy snow from our home to get there. In a secluded room, sitting thoughtfully as he leaned forward on his cane, I chanced upon an older, deeply admired friend. Like I, he was dressed in white, temple workers’ white. I greeted him cheerily and inquired what he was doing there at that hour of the morning.
He said, “You know what I am doing here, President Hanks. I am an ordinance worker here to fulfill my assignment.”
“I do know that,” I said, “but I am wondering how you got here through the snow storm. I just heard on the radio that Parley’s Canyon is closed to all traffic, indeed barricaded.”
He said, “I have a four-wheeler that will climb trees.”
I said, “So do I, or I would not be here, and I live only a few miles away.”
I then asked him how he had managed to get through the barricades that the news announcements had said were in place in the canyon. His answer was not atypical of this rancher and stake president whom I had first seen as a robust, strong man astride his horse when I spent an afternoon with him prior to stake conference meetings. Arthritis and age had literally shrunk him now and would soon take his life. He had much pain in moving about. His answer that morning was, “Now, President Hanks, I have known those highway officers, many of them, since they were born. They know I must get through and that if necessary I might try to go overland! They also know my truck and my experience, and they just move their barricades if they need to.”
He was there, faithful and loyal at that hour of the morning, to begin his sacred work. It is such individuals with such faith and devotion that temples help to develop.

I’m 16 years old and have been getting the New Era for over a year now. I never really read it until my mom read it one day and fell in love with it and told me there were neat stories in it. My mom is the president of the Young Women and encouraged all of us girls to read it.
I would like to thank Cyndi Erickson from Utah. Her letter was printed in the February 1988 Feedback section under the title “Don’t give up!” I’ve been going through some hard times, and when Mother read that letter in our Young Women meeting I got tears in my eyes. When I came home I read it again. Cyndi, I want you to know that you’ve touched someone’s heart. You’ve helped me put my life together, and I’m sure you’ve touched others too. I’m a new person now, and I love it. I love the Church, the gospel, Heavenly Father, my family, and the New Era!
Shelli BiglerWalnut, California

When my mission ended, all those experiences helped me stay hopeful in the chaotic and superficial world back home. I returned home at a very difficult time for my family and my country. There were many political and economic problems, and many families were emigrating to other countries because of the lack of employment and education opportunities. I couldn’t believe that things had changed so much in such a short time, even within my own family. Some of my loved ones and friends had also passed away. I felt so overwhelmed with all the difficulties surrounding me.
One day, feeling discouraged, I took out my study notebook and began to write about the feelings in my heart. I thought of the many experiences I had had while serving others on my mission. Recalling those special experiences was exactly what I needed to lose myself even more in His work, to serve and continue to develop the gifts that He has blessed me with. That day a very special phrase that my mission president’s wife always repeated to us stood out to me: “You can do hard things.” I have tried to remember that continuously, including while learning to use a prosthetic hand and trying to live a normal life.

Monica and I had been dating for a few months when Monica called me, and with a voice that held deep concern, said, “We need to talk.” I thought things were going great in our relationship but clearly, I had missed something. I drove over to her house and picked her up. She was obviously concerned. We drove to the Provo Utah Temple grounds and sat on the grass. My only thought was that she was breaking up with me and I was distraught.
After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, I finally expressed that I was concerned about where our relationship was heading. Keoni was leaving for a Ph.D. program in about six months, and we hadn’t talked about our plans for the future at all, not to mention whether our plans included each other! It took all my courage, and not a small amount of frustration to motivate me to ask, “do you see yourself marrying me?”
I was shocked and relieved. I responded, “of course, that is why we are still dating, right?” The actual conversation included just one simple question and one simple answer. We had been dating for months and had communicated well about many things, but not this one!
After several dates, you may start to wonder if you are in a relationship. Do not make assumptions about the status or trajectory of your relationship. There is only one way to know this. YOU HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT!

Blessed to be the mother of five children, eight grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren, 77-year-old Carol Dunkley once enjoyed a life of physically active service and was a keen gardener. Nowadays, Carol, a member of the Townsville First Branch, which is part of the Townsville District in North Queensland, Australia, does what she can to be of service to the Lord because her body has developed some restrictions.
She remembers well the day in 2010 when a neurologist announced her ailment: “You have Parkinson’s.” Having had a hip replacement three years prior, Carol had suspected something was amiss with her hip because she couldn’t walk properly and went to her GP, who referred her to a specialist—so this diagnosis came as a shock.
The disease doesn’t yet have a cure. Initially, Carol had trouble walking; unfortunately, it progressed to instability and mobility uncertainty.
“Thankfully there are medications and surgical procedures that greatly help,” said Carol. She began a course of medications and felt much better. But frustrations became part of her life as she had to rely on others to do for her what she could no longer do herself—like gardening.
“I know that it is not curable. No surgery can fix it. One of the greatest lessons I have learnt is to take each day as it comes. If it is a good day, my prayer of thanks is given. If it has been a bad day – well tomorrow should be better. If things get too bad, I read. It takes me away from my problems and into another world; I know my faith is a great advantage. I am not alone. His help and comfort are always there. There is a lot to be thankful for, even though at times I have to look a bit harder for the blessings,” said Carol.
With physical service at a limit, Carol looked for a way she might still serve the Lord in a meaningful way—she found indexing—and for the past nine years has experienced great joy in helping to gather Israel in this important effort.
Carol’s journey to family history service has been a long time coming. Her father passed away when she was seven, and unfortunately the connection between her mother and her paternal family ceased because of a rift in the family. She does wish she had taken the time to gather information from her living relatives about their experiences and connections when they were still alive.
Married life in England was a struggle and she and her husband made the decision to immigrate to Australia in 1966 as ‘10-pound pommies’—the amount paid to each of them to travel by ship to relocate in Australia. Once settled in their new land, they looked for religion. Almost unbelievably, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on their door and were eagerly invited in. As gospel principles and doctrines were taught, they felt familiar to the couple, and they loved learning about the covenants they could make with Heavenly Father.
Carol said: “When we were taught the law of tithing, I was sure we would starve. But with faith we obeyed and opportunities to improve our financial affairs started. A promotion at work for Michael, my husband—and the blessings just kept coming. Tithing is not about money; it is about faith. We were baptized and never looked back. It was one of the best decisions of our lives.
“The gospel opened a whole new world for me. The promise of Elijah—turning the hearts of the children to the fathers, and the [hearts of the] fathers to the children . . . my heart was turned to my ancestors.”
When Carol first searched for her ancestors 50 years ago—it was difficult and expensive, especially when looking for English relatives while she was living in Australia. FamilySearch has been such a blessing to her; no need now to sit and read microfilms to search out her family.
She said, “To date I have indexed 95,614 names and reviewed 19,050, a total of 114,664.
“I mostly index the English records as I am familiar with the names of places and also the English surnames. . . . It has also been amusing—at one stage I was going into some English records and the very early ones turned out to be written in Latin.
“At first, I just sent the batch back! Then I thought, ‘maybe I will take up this challenge.’ So, I reviewed the batches to get the feel of the records. Then I googled the Latin words for ‘birth,’ ‘marriage,’ ‘death,’ ‘mother’ and ‘father,’ which enabled me to complete the indexing, this made me feel quite pleased with myself that I had managed to index some records written in Latin.
“I can remember the thrill I felt when I saw a copy of the original marriage certificate of my grandfather on a microfilm and saw his signature and that of my grandmother. I’m sure that my grandad would never have thought that one day his granddaughter would be sitting at a microfilm reader looking at that same certificate image from faraway Australia.”
A few workshops after Carol’s Sunday meetings have been held and the youth were also invited. Carol finds it amazing to see how confident young people are when using computers. Now, a number of their Church youth make valiant efforts to index, and really enjoy the work.
“Who knows,” said Carol, “when it is my time to move on to the next stage of my eternal journey, I might just meet up with one of those sisters or brothers in the gospel whose name I’ve indexed, and who took the opportunity to accept the gospel ordinances as their name was taken through the temple. What a joy that would be!
“When I index names in FamilySearch, I pray that there may be many who have had the excitement of finding their ancestors on FamilySearch through the efforts of all those volunteers who engage in the indexing work of salvation.”