Gospel Story Finder

Elva Jean Grauel of Burtonsville, Maryland, has spent a lot of time on the bench—the organ bench of her ward chapel, that is.
Following her early-morning seminary class every day, Elva had a 40-minute wait for her school bus. She put the time to good use by practicing the organ. Her efforts were rewarded when she won first place on both the local and regional levels in the classical keyboard category in a National Association of Christian Schools competition.
Elva serves as president of her Mia Maid class and as assistant organist in the Colesville Ward, Seneca Maryland Stake.

The all-LDS Orem, Utah, High School a cappella choir was one of a number of outstanding musical groups invited to participate in the Bicentennial Parade of American Music in Washington, D.C., during the nation’s 200th anniversary celebration. While they were on the 12-day tour, the group emphasized its 100 percent Mormon background by bearing testimonies and giving away several hundred copies of the Book of Mormon.

Plans for the trip began several months before as students and their parents worked to gather the $36,000 needed to finance the trip for the 88 singers and their director, Ed Sandgren. They worked six days a week to prepare the numbers they were to present in the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and elsewhere.

Early on a Wednesday morning the students met at the Salt Lake International Airport and boarded their flight for Washington, D.C. That afternoon they were taken to the Annandale Virginia Stake Center where they set up their equipment and had a short rehearsal. After dining with their host families, the members presented their first east coast concert.

Thursday morning they toured the nation’s capital, then gave their concert at the Kennedy Center. The next day they were guests at a performance of an originally written presentation about Joseph Smith’s First Vision given by a non-LDS school. A cappella members said the presentation was fairly accurate. The school’s religion teacher was given a Book of Mormon in appreciation.

The youth had a chance to show their religion in action that afternoon at a special luncheon in the Rayburn House Office Building when every member of the choir turned over their coffee cups. “The waiters made several rounds in the area to fill our cups, but found none to fill,” one student reported. “They had very puzzled expressions on their faces.” The restaurant had to send out for more milk to satisfy the individual demands at the luncheon.

Tours and concerts at Philadelphia, New York City, and in New Jersey were included in the 12-day trip.

Of particular interest to the choir was their concert in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. It was an overcast day, and the room where they sang was gloomy because the main source of light was through several windows near the top of the structure. Then, as the choir began “The Lord’s Prayer,” the sun broke through the clouds and streamed through the windows. No sooner had the group finished than the sun again disappeared behind the thick clouds.

Many times on their tour people asked where they were from. When they answered that they were from Utah, the next question usually was, “Are you part of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?”

The spirit of the group inspired a number of nonmembers, including a clergyman, who after hearing them sing said, “They’ve certainly made my week.”

The missionary spirit was strong in the all-LDS choir. One member gave out 38 copies of the Book of Mormon, another 14. The tour was a chance to proselyte and to rehearse, not only music but for full-time missions planned to begin in the next few years.

When I was a small boy, my brother and I often walked five miles to the ranch where my father worked. In the summer it was hot and dusty. As we trudged along, sweat dripping from our faces, I prayed that around the next bend we would find two horses with saddles and bridles so that we could ride swiftly to the ranch. My prayers were never answered—or so I thought. Now I realize that they were always answered, but the answer was no.

While Peter was lying in the hospital as a 19-year-old trying to figure out his future, he asked himself, “What one thing would I have to accomplish that would mean I had overcome my problems?” He was influenced by some books on selling that his friend had read to him before his bandages were removed from his eyes. He decided that if he could be a successful life insurance sales manager that would mean (1) he was able to develop a good relationship with people individually, (2) he would have gained an education, and (3) he would have proven his credibility and ability in one area.
With this goal in mind, Peter began researching insurance companies. He contacted 59 companies and was not offered a single job. He finally landed a position as a planning manager for an insurance company. He had his toe in the door. Through persistence, hard work, and going to school at the same time, Peter began learning the business.
By the time Peter and Marj were married, he had paid off all his debts to doctors and hospitals, but he was starting married life with no assets except his confidence and attitude. In 10 years he has built all that he and his family have from scratch, by determination and discipline. From an accident that could have been devastating to any future accomplishment, Peter Jeppson struggled against adversity to become a successful businessman, church leader, husband, and father. He is now the owner of his own insurance and investment agency, has served on the General Board of the Young Men, and has four children, two daughters and two sons.

“Did I tell you enough times how much I love you, my son?” I silently wondered. As my husband and I sat in the intensive-care unit at the hospital, we prayed for the life of our eldest child, Joel. I held his thin, cold hand in mine, listening to machines keeping him alive and weeping at the thought that perhaps I hadn’t done enough to let him know of my love. Most of all, I wanted to tell him once more, “I love you.”
I don’t know how many times I have expressed my love for Joel since his life was spared. Our family members now show love for one another more often and more easily—both in word and in deed. We try not to miss a chance to express our affection.
Joel’s brush with death reminded us that life is short and that we can’t let any opportunity pass to show our children how much we love them—especially given the great joy and security children experience in knowing they are loved.

Eliza was hungry. Her stomach churned and rumbled so loudly she was certain everyone at the table could hear it. But no one paid any attention. They were all too busy pushing the small portion of greens around on their plates, and waiting for their mother to sit down so they could say the blessing.
It had been a long winter, and the growing season in their small farming town had been too short, leaving little money for food and supplies. Now the Forsyth family was going hungry. For the past three weeks, all they’d had to eat was pigweed. Eliza didn’t want to complain, but pigweed was yucky and she didn’t want to eat it anymore.
“Do we have to eat this again?” she asked, poking at the stringy greens with her fork.
“Count your blessings, Eliza,” Father said in a quiet voice. “Be thankful that you have something warm to fill your stomach. It’s more than a lot of people have right now.”
Eliza hoped she hadn’t made her father feel bad. He worked so hard to take care of their family. It wasn’t his fault that they were having hard times.
“Soup’s on,” Mother said, carrying a large pot to the table. “Move your elbows and pass your bowls.”
Eliza’s stomach grumbled in anticipation. Her mother made the best soup in town, and she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into a sweet carrot or meaty potato.
But as she watched her mother fill the bowls with hot, steaming liquid, Eliza’s heart sank. There were no carrots in sight. No potatoes. No beans. No meat of any kind. Just rocks. There were rocks in her soup!
At the sight of the stones in the bottom of her bowl, her eyes filled with tears and she groaned. “I’m hungry, Mother. Don’t we have anything else to eat?”
“Yuck,” said Eliza’s sister Agnes as she plucked a large brown chunk from her bowl. “What’s this?”
“That’s part of Uncle George’s saddle,” Mother said, looking around the table at the faces of her unbelieving family. “He doesn’t need it anymore, so I cut it up and boiled it to give the soup some flavor. Just set it aside. It’s not for eating.”
“What are the rocks for?” asked Neal, scrunching up his face as he pushed the rocks around with his spoon.
Mother smiled. “Those are just for fun. Now please fold your arms. Eliza, will you bless the food?”
Eliza didn’t want to. She wasn’t grateful for weeds and rocks and boiled saddles.
“Don’t forget to thank Heavenly Father for keeping us safe, and for giving us so many blessings,” Mother said.
Eliza looked into her bowl of rock soup, then around her at the bowed heads of her family. Despite the long, cold winter they had endured, all of them were safe and healthy. They had a house to live in, clothes to wear, and plenty of firewood to keep them warm. And in spite of their suffering, they were kind to their neighbors and each other. Mother was right. They really did have much to be thankful for.
“Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for the food our mother has prepared,” Eliza prayed.
She thanked Him for the pigweed that grew plentifully on the farm.
She thanked Him for the rocks that covered the west pasture, because without them, they wouldn’t be having rock soup.
And she thanked Him for her family and the love they shared.
When Eliza finished her prayer, she had a warm feeling and knew that Heavenly Father loved her.
When dinner was over, the aching emptiness of her stomach was filled with the best soup Eliza had eaten in a long time.

On 5 February 1989, Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles issued a challenge to the young men of the Tokyo, Japan, East Stake. “Every worthy priesthood bearer should go on a mission,” he said. “It is his responsibility.”
One young man in the congregation who accepted that challenge was Hidemasa Yatabe* Hidemasa, a student at Tsukuba University near Tokyo, had thought often about serving a mission, but up until then it has been an unfulfilled wish.
As for many young men, it was a difficult decision. For Hidemasa to serve a mission would mean giving up his position on the All-Japan gymnastics team and opportunity to appear in international competition.
“The university had only a few gymnasts,” he says, “and our success was based on team members dedicating a great deal of time practicing together. We even ate together. We became as one technically, mentally, and emotionally. The loss of even one member of a team like that disrupts the entire team. So although I always wanted to go on a mission, I wasn’t sure how I could leave the team.”
Since his baptism in 1981, the only convert in his family, Hidemasa had been a faithful member of the Church. In 1987, Elder Oaks was in Tokyo and visited some of the Saints’ homes, including Hidemasa’s. At that time, Elder oaks blessed Hidemasa that he would be able to serve a mission. Now, two years later, that blessing was recalled and Hidemasa resolved to accept Elder Oaks’ stake conference challenge.
“However, for the next six months, gymnastics and class studies took all my time. I practiced hard to earn the right to attend the All-Japan gymnastics championship.
“But even as I began to prepare mentally and physically for future world-class competition, my desire to serve a mission became stronger and stronger. After the student championship, I was interviewed by my bishop and stake president. In the interview, the stake president said to me, ‘If you plan to go on a mission only when it is convenient for you, perhaps the Lord might bless you only when it is convenient for him.’ I was convinced that I should send in my application right away.”
When Hidemasa announced his intentions to his teammates and coach, he met with immediate opposition. “My teammates all tried to stop me from going,” he says. “It is not an overstatement to say that winning the All-Japan championship was everything my teammates had worked toward in their youth. It would be the most significant event of their lives.”
Teammates began to accuse Hidemasa of deserting the team and blame him for hurting their chances of winning in nationwide competition. “Why can’t you wait for another year?” they asked. “We have worked so hard.” At other times they would say, “Religion should make people happy; so why are you making us suffer?”
“I was grateful for the support the team members had given me in my athletic career,” Hidemasa says, “and I didn’t want to disappoint them. Without their help, I would not have achieved what I did. For me to leave for a mission meant that I would destroy all that we had worked together to build. I knew exactly how they felt. It was painful.”
To ease that pain, Hidemasa looked to the words of Church leaders for consolation. He found it in a statement by President Ezra Taft Benson, which seemed to apply especially to him: “One of the most difficult tests of all is when you have to choose between pleasing God or pleasing someone you love or respect. … We should give God, the Father of our spirits, an exclusive preeminence in our lives. … The greatest test of life is obedience to God.” (“The Great Commandment—Love the Lord,” April General Conference, 1988.)
After reading this, Hidemasa felt strengthened and comforted. Still, there was no way for his teammates to understand the words of President Benson or the mission call. So when his teammates harassed him, he said nothing.
Finally, the last day of practice came—23 September 1989.
“I will never forget that day,” Hidemasa says. “I was practicing and thinking I would like to give something to the members of my team. Suddenly, I was summoned by my coach. He said to me harshly, ‘This is a training area for athletes, and not a place for you. Gather up all your belongings and get out.’”
Saddened, Hidemasa collected his things and prepared to leave. But as the left the practice area for the last time, he received a special witness from the Lord that he had made the correct decision. He recorded in his journal:
“My life as an athlete was finished. I would never again step into the gymnasium as a competitor. At that moment, I realized that everything I had worked toward had ended, and I could not help but cry. Everything, all the gymnastic life that I had worked so hard to build for the past ten years, including the inter-high school championship, the collegiate championship and the All-Japan championship, had come to an end.
“With that very poignant realization, I glanced back at the gymnasium. I felt that nothing remained for me there but an empty darkness. Suddenly, tears flowed freely as if to cleanse me. They were not tears of sorrow, but rather tears of gratitude. I felt the deepest gratitude for the many people who had supported, helped, and encouraged me for the last ten years. And I was sincerely grateful to Jesus Christ for his unequaled love and mercy. I rejoiced in the opportunity to demonstrate my love for him.”
During the next few days, Hidemasa visited the homes of his teammates, sharing with each one his testimony of Jesus Christ. Amazingly, their attitudes changed. “The Lord softened their hearts, and many of them began to understand my situation,” Hidemasa says.
The day before he left the university, his teammates held a farewell party for him. “Almost all my former teammates attended and gave me words of encouragement,” Hidemasa says. “One of them even congratulated me on my decision. I was able to talk to them about the Savior, declare the gospel, and give out copies of the Book of Mormon.”
Even after Hidemasa left the university, it was still painful for him to think of his teammates and what he had left behind. But later, when he went to the Tokyo Temple to receive his endowments, he had another experience that reinforced his decision.
“As I entered the celestial room, I felt a great spiritual awakening, and I understood the magnitude of the blessings our Father in Heaven has in store for us. I realized that, eternally, serving a mission was the best thing for me—and for my family, and for my former teammates.
“I was born again in Jesus Christ. There is power and strength in His name, and Satan is powerless against such strength. This is the testimony I gained in the temple.”
Since then, Hidemasa has never looked back. “Faith always accompanies sacrifice,” he says. “I sincerely testify that no matter how big a sacrifice you make, if you obey your Father in Heaven, blessings will be returned to you perhaps hundreds, perhaps thousands of times.”
One of those blessings is that Hidemasa’s parents are now receiving the missionary discussions. And he still keeps in touch with his former teammates.
What is the price of obedience? For Hidemasa Yatabe, student and gymnast, the price seemed high. But for Elder Hidemasa Yatabe, no price is too high, if it means keeping the Lord’s commandments.
“No matter how valuable things might be, they will never take the place of the great glory and blessings our Father in Heaven has in store for us,” he says. “There will be a time when you will receive an eternal reward no matter how big a sacrifice you pay to become a faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

At night, the sky is dark and Queens Road, which leads into Suva, Fiji, is lit only by the headlights of approaching cars. Sometimes, the road seems to melt into the shadows, and it is difficult to see what lies ahead. Then, just around a bend, a beautiful radiance appears on the hill above the road, like a heavenly apparition. The warm glow of Suva, Fiji’s Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints draws the traveler’s gaze upward and beckons all to ascend out of the darkness and into the light.
Members of the Sigatoka Branch were delighted to attend the Suva Fiji Temple that morning in August 2022. For members of the Church, the temple is a sacred place of worship, a place of peace and revelation; a place to feel closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It is where sacred ordinances are performed and families are united—not just until death parts them, but for eternity.
In February 2022, Sister Basilisa Nadreke Lotawa was asked by the Sigatoka Branch President (a lay church leader) to serve as a temple and family history specialist. Basilisa’s job was to urge her congregation to lift their spiritual eyes to the light of the temple and to prepare themselves for temple worship. She also had to learn how to do genealogical research then teach her fellow Saints how to identify their deceased ancestors in order to participate by proxy, temple ordinances on their behalf.
Basilisa, a young mother of three, shook her head and laughed. “I knew nothing about doing family history—nothing . . . and I’m too young to do it.” Still, wanting to serve the Lord, she sought the help of an experienced genealogist and was soon able to assist her branch members. With a new conviction and passion for family history, Basilisa expressed: “I am so blessed and honoured to participate in this glorious work. It has been marvelous, tremendous! I have seen miracles and wonders. The Lord provided a way for me to do the work and to help my branch.”
With young children in tow, Basilisa spent many hours at the computer in her chapel helping others to extend the branches of their family trees. She invited them—adults and youth—to find five deceased family members who needed proxy baptisms. Branch members caught her enthusiasm and found two hundred ancestors!
At 2:00 am on the 27th of August 2022, members of the Sigatoka Branch boarded a bus to Suva temple. The early start didn’t dampen their spirits. Their excitement was palpable as they arrived on the temple grounds—they were ready to participate in ordinances on behalf of their ancestors, and other ordinances for themselves.
It was an especially joyful day for Maritiano Ratumeli, the Sigatoka Branch President. He, his wife and their two sons were united in the temple as an eternal family, by the authority that the scriptures call, the “sealing power.” President Ratumeli, teary eyed, said: “It is so amazing to say that I am one of those blessed to be sealed in the temple. I didn’t expect . . . that the branch would be with me, but the Lord planned for them to witness this. My goal is to inspire others to come. I’m feeling good and blessed that my family can be together forever.” Other branch members marveled as they “felt the Spirit” and “felt their family members there.”
As for Basilisa, there is no doubt that her love for the temple and family history work—even at this busy stage of her life, will continue to bless her. She said: “I feel the same joy doing this [work] that I felt when I served my mission.” She and her branch now keep their eyes fixed firmly on the holy temple.

I would like to share with you the story of one professor who left an indelible impression on me—one that lingers with me today years after my college days. This professor’s name was Christen Jensen. He was the son of Danish immigrants who had struggled to give their son an education. As a history major I had the privilege of taking a constitutional history class from this man. Nearing the end of a long and service-filled career, he was a legend on campus. He had been acting president of the university twice and dean of two colleges, one of which was the graduate school. He served faithfully in the Church. He was a kind husband and father.

Dr. Jensen would come to class and sit down at the head of the table in the dean’s conference room in the old Joseph Smith Building. As students in the class, we were expected to be prepared and to participate. He would talk, ask questions, discuss, and develop thought processes for an hour without benefit of book or notes. His face radiated a joy in teaching and sharing that was easily apparent. Time in that class passed so quickly that it was hard to realize the class time was over.

One faculty member said of Dr. Jensen, “I think we have never had a more loyal and devoted supporter of great music and important lectures than the beloved Christen Jensen.” His obituary in the Deseret News said, “The natural kindness of Christen Jensen, his love for young people, his ready sympathy and devotion to learning are characteristics for which this good man will long be remembered” (“Dr. Christen Jensen,” Deseret News, 18 August 1961, 18A). Does this description bring to mind the Savior’s admonition to love one another and to serve each other?

Dr. Jensen gave me a love of learning for which I will be eternally grateful. To this day I hope I thanked him appropriately, and I acknowledge today by my words all of those men and women who opened my mind and soul to the joys of learning, including those with whom I have worked and do work.

I didn’t know which was louder—my footsteps in the big, silent house, or my pounding heart. I hurried through the darkness and down the stairs to my parents’ room. I tried to step softly so the stairs wouldn’t creak.
Our hundred-year-old house often creaked and popped at night. Dad said it was the sounds of the old wood and adobe settling as the night cooled down. But it still sounded scary.
Dad was out of town for work, and I felt bad waking Mom up, but I had to talk to her. I stood in the doorway. The moonlight shone through Mom’s white curtains. I felt a little less frightened already.
“Mom?” I called softly.
She turned over. “What’s the matter?”
“I had a bad dream again.”
“Oh no. Come snuggle with me, OK?”
Relieved, I climbed into the big bed. The sheets felt cool and soft. Mom hugged me tightly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“It was the dream with the giant shark.”
“You’ve had that dream before,” Mom said. I nodded and tucked my head under Mom’s chin. “Well, you’re safe, sweetheart. Sleep here with me until morning. After school tomorrow, we can talk some more.”
All day I wondered what Mom would say after school about my scary dreams. The shark dream wasn’t the only one. Sometimes I dreamed about a prickly monster. One night I even dreamed that my family was in a car accident.
My dreams really bothered me. Sometimes I screamed and cried in the night. I even felt afraid to fall asleep.
After school, I sat down with Mom. “Are you still thinking about the giant shark?” Mom asked.
I nodded.
“What do you think you’re going to do about those scary dreams?”
“Mom, they’re dreams. I didn’t make them start. I don’t think I can make them stop.”
“Probably not by yourself,” Mom said. “But there’s someone I ask for help when I have a problem I can’t solve by myself.”
“You mean Heavenly Father!” I said.
“Right! You can ask Heavenly Father to help you sleep well at night, with no bad dreams.”
“In my prayers before bed?”
“Then, and any other time you’re thinking about it. I know He will listen to you and help you.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I ask Heavenly Father about problems a lot, and He helps me. Just this morning I asked Him what to do about your scary dreams.”
“Did He help you?”
“Yes. I had the idea that you should pray about your dreams, and when that idea came to my mind, I felt the Holy Ghost telling me it was a good thing to do.”
“How did it feel?”
“I felt warm and happy, and I felt sure everything would be OK,” Mom said. “Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so,” I said. And then I noticed that I felt warm and happy inside. “Mom, that’s how I feel right now!” I said.
“That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that what you’re learning is right,” Mom said.
That night, and every night for a long time afterward, I prayed that I could sleep well with no bad dreams. My bad dreams didn’t come back. Heavenly Father answered my prayer.

Lark was feeling rather sad. “I’m so plain and ordinary,” he said. “I have only dull-looking feathers. They’re too brown to be really gray, and too gray to be really brown. And the speckled edges make me look like some disease has left me disfigured and spotted. Even the yellow on my breast isn’t pretty and bright. It looks like dirty egg yolk. Why couldn’t I have had bright, colorful feathers like the parrot or even the bluebird?”
Bird King overheard Lark’s complaints and asked, “What’s troubling you?”
Lark answered sadly, “I’m so plain and ordinary-looking. And I’m not big and strong, or small and cute. There’s nothing special about me.”
“Oh, I see,” responded the king of the birds. “Would you like to go visiting with me today and see what we find?” The young lark quickly agreed, and off they flew.
They saw a giant eagle soaring in the distance. “Oh, I wish I could have strong, powerful wings like Eagle,” said Lark.
Bird King replied, “Let’s go visit Eagle’s nest over on the cliff.” So they tipped their wings and soared through the clear morning air.
After flying so far and high, Lark began to get tired. When they finally reached Eagle’s nest, Lark was all worn out. As he rested, he looked around the nest. Is this all there is to Eagle’s home? he wondered. These big sticks and branches don’t look very comfortable. And it’s lonely up here with no neighbors to chat with.
Bird King asked Lark, “How would you like being an eagle and living here on the cliff?”
Lark answered thoughtfully, “Although the view is lovely, and it’s perfect for him, I’m glad that I don’t have to live so far away from my friends.”
Bird King smiled to himself as they flew away. They hadn’t gone far when they came to the tree where the mountain bluebird nested. Bluebird was just flying home after a nice dust bath. Oh, Lark thought, Bluebird is beautiful! Blue is my favorite color. How I wish I could be a bluebird.
The King greeted the little bird with a cheery “Good morning. My, your feathers look lovely today.”
“Thank you,” Bluebird replied nervously, his eyes darting back and forth in every direction. “I do have pretty feathers, but all my enemies can see my bright color. It is dangerous being blue. I must constantly be on guard to protect myself and my family.”
Oh, Lark thought, I didn’t realize that being colorful would be such a problem. Maybe, my brownish-gray feathers are better because they are safer.
Bird King and Lark bid Bluebird farewell and flew on. As they approached Lark’s neighborhood, they saw Magpie and his cousin Crow.
Oh, how I wish my feathers were beautiful like the crow’s, Lark thought. He looks so shiny and black. And Magpie’s white feathers complement her black ones perfectly! They both looked elegant to Lark.
Bird King asked Crow and Magpie how they were getting along.
“Everybody thinks we live the rich life because of our fine feathers,” Magpie squawked. “But believe me, it’s terrible trying to get enough to eat these days. No one wants to provide for us, so we are forced to forage even in garbage dumps for our very existence.”
Crow broke in, “Gone are the days of wealth and luxurious life when poets wrote of our beauty. Nobody likes us anymore. We are outcasts everywhere, doomed to a life of misery and woe.” Crow complained on and on.
Lark could see why no one would want to even be around these birds with their negative attitudes. “I guess I don’t want to be a crow or a magpie,” he said to Bird King.
Bird King had a bigger smile as the two of them flew on to Lark’s little home. Lark’s neighbors came out to welcome him back with their cheerful chirps and twitters.
“I’m glad to be home where I’m safe and the trees are familiar and I feel like I belong. I have friends to chat with here, and food to eat. Being a plain, ordinary lark isn’t so bad, after all,” Lark admitted.
“There’s one more thing before I leave,” Bird King said. “You have a song no one else can sing. Others may be stronger or bigger, or more colorful, or even smarter, but you have a call that no other bird has. Did you ever stop to think that they may be wishing to be like you?”
As wise Bird King flew away, Lark sat on the branch of his favorite tree, singing his special song, “La-da-dee-dee-dee-da,” as happy as a lark.

An experience that I had on my mission shows how Heavenly Father watches over us. My companion and I had just taught and baptized a family in Leeds, England. Then we were transferred to Bradford, about a half-hour bus trip away. One day, my companion and I were getting ready to visit some missionaries in our district, but it seemed like we just could not get out the door. Each time we left, we realized that we had forgotten something.

After returning three times, we thought, Maybe there’s some reason we should stay here. We sat down, and within a few minutes, the phone rang. It was the mother of the family we had baptized in Leeds. She was very ill, and she needed us to come give her a blessing. We immediately left for the bus stop, where the bus was just about to leave. When we changed buses, we again caught our bus very quickly. When we arrived, the woman was so sick that she was shivering badly, and we couldn’t even understand her words. My companion and I gave her a blessing, and as I said the words, we both felt so much strength leave us that we had to sit down for almost ten minutes. During that time, she was able to stand, go to her kitchen, and prepare something for the three of us to drink. When we left half an hour later, she was completely healed and waved to us at the door. Not all priesthood blessings are answered so quickly and happily, but we were overjoyed for it to happen to this good sister.

The magazine left behind by an American serviceman in his shop was a little worn-out, but the young Filipino still found it inviting to read.
As if by design and not by pure chance, his fingers flipped the pages to an article about a prophet who died a hundre years before. In 1946, during the early days of the Republic of the Philippines, any story about as modern-day prophet would sound preposterous, but not for this young Pampango who became oblivious to the passing of time as he became deeply engrossed with the article on Joseph Smith and the Mormons who were, to him, a strange and unknown people.
The story he read lingered in his mind and there were searching questions he wanted to ask. There was the compelling need to know more about Joseph Smith and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He had to find out, but there was no way to do it. … and nobody to turn to for enlightenment.
Then, one Saturday afternoon, he noticed an American captain from Clark Air Force Base who appeared to be completely different from the others during off-duty hours in matters of pleasure and other mundane activity.
The thought raced in David’s mind that the captain could be a Mormon, and he debated with himself on whether to ask him or not. How embarrassing it would be if the captain was not a Mormon and be offended by his impertinence. But an unseen force seemed to direct David to him, and he slowly approached the captain with faltering steps.
“Sir, may I ask you a question?” David shyly asked. The officer nodded. “Are you a Mormon?” he continued.
The officer’s lips broadened to a wide smile, and David almost shrank with shame with the thought that he had asked a silly question.
But the chance meeting and the unikely question proved to be the turning point in David’s life. The captain was a Mormon!
A strong bond of friendship was immediately struck between them—and, not long thereafter, David became a convert to the Church.
This episode came to life again on Sunday morning as Elder Gordon B. Hinckley highlighted the May 29, 1977 Special Combined Conference at the Philippine International Convention Center.
Elder Hinckley’s opening statement was a vividly recounted narrative on how David came as the only Filipino member early in the morning of May 28, 1961 to the American Battle Memorial Cemetery at Fort Bonifacio, where a small LDS group led by Elder Hickley gathered to initiate missionary work in the Philippines.
As he listened to Elder Hinckley’s testimony about him, tears welled in the eyes of David, recalling that thirty-one years before, a worn-out magazine and a chance meeting ushered into his life the greatest moment of truth.
This is the story of David D. Lagman of San Fernando, Pampanga and how he found it—the truth—long before we did.—P. Ocampo, Jr.

A few years ago I received the assignment to reorganize the Carey Idaho Stake. The plane landed at Twin Falls, and President Roy Hubert, who had served so well, met me there and drove me to his home. While we were driving, I asked him, “Is there anything I can do for you and your Saints?”
He said: “Oh, we have had a terrible drought for the last few years. This year it is particularly severe, and many farmers have left town to find employment elsewhere.”
I was so disturbed for our faithful members who love the Lord and the Church yet were losing their farms.
A young bishop, R. Spence Ellsworth, was called to serve as the new stake president. During the Sunday general session, results of the drought weighed heavily on my mind. As I was speaking, a strong prompting came. I asked them to do the following:
Faithfully pay an honest tithe, both young and old.
Humbly hold regular individual and family prayers.
Devotedly have daily personal and family scripture study.
Thankfully keep the Sabbath day holy.
Gratefully go to the temple often, there offering thanksgiving.
Willingly sustain and follow the new leaders.
Hold a stakewide fast, including everyone in the affected communities who would like to participate.
For the next couple of days following the stake conference, many members planted their crops with complete faith, even though there was no forecast of rain.
On Wednesday, under the direction of President Ellsworth, the whole stake fasted. That same week many members, the leaders, and their spouses went to the Boise Idaho Temple and offered their thanksgiving. While these faithful Saints were in the temple, rain began to fall on the entire community, though the weather forecast indicated no moisture for the next few weeks. The following Saturday, good rain fell again and continued for a few days. This happened late in the month of April. Significant snow fell in the mountains, providing enough moisture. In the Dietrich and Richfield communities, their reservoir had been under 30 percent, but after the people fasted, the reservoir was nearly full. The Carey water supply increased from about 44 percent to more than 100 percent of normal. Through the rest of the growing season, as members of the Carey Stake increased their faith by fasting a few more times, paying honest tithes, and attending the temple more frequently, the Lord heard and answered their prayers. Frost came late that year, so the farmers were able to harvest grain, sugar beets, alfalfa, potatoes, and other crops. From that day, and each year since, they have offered their thanksgiving prayers, and “because of … his tender mercies,”7 the Lord continues to bless them.

Parents need to give children choices and should be prepared to appropriately adjust some rules, thus preparing children for real-world situations. To do this, parents must listen—really listen—to what their children are saying. They must know what is important to each child. I learned this lesson years ago from one of our daughters. She was only four or five at the time. She came into the room, all excited. I was reading the newspaper, and she had something very much on her mind that was important to her. And I was responding, “Yes, uh-huh, uh-huh.” All of a sudden the newspaper came crashing down with her two little hands. She grabbed my face between her hands so that she could look me right in the eye. This was a little four- or five-year-old teaching her father a great lesson. “Daddy, you’re not listening to me.” And she was right.

How well I remember the challenges confronting the youth in the ward over which I once presided as a bishop. One evening a lovely teenage girl came to my office with her boyfriend to talk things over with me. The two of them were very much in love, and temptation was beginning to get the best of them.

As we counseled together, each made a pledge to the other to resist temptation and keep uppermost in their minds the goal of a temple marriage. I suggested a course of action to follow and then felt impressed to say: “If you ever find yourselves in a position of compromise and need additional strength, you call me, regardless of the hour.”

One morning at 1:00 a.m., the telephone rang and a voice said: “Bishop, this is Susan. Remember how you asked me to call if I found myself being tempted? Well, Bishop, I’m in that situation.” I asked where she was, and she described a popular parking spot in the Salt Lake Valley. She and her fiancé had walked to a nearby phone booth to make the call. The setting wasn’t ideal for providing counsel, but the need was great, and the young couple was receptive.

I won’t mention how often Susan called. However, when the mailman delivered her wedding announcement to our home and Sister Monson read, “Mr. and Mrs. Jones request the pleasure of your company at the wedding reception of their daughter, Susan,” she sighed, “Thank heaven!” When I noticed the small print at the bottom, which read, “Married in the Salt Lake Temple,” I said silently, “Thank heaven for the strength of Latter-day Saint youth.”

I am a convert to the Church. My conversion began in a bakery where I noticed a young man who seemed to stand out from those around him. I was curious to know what made him different, and I asked him what church he belonged to. As he responded to my question, his missionary companion joined us. When I asked them how I could know more about their church, they scheduled an appointment to visit with me in my apartment.
On the day of their visit, I sensed a calmness and serenity about the two young men, Elder Eric Dorr Hansen and Elder Paulo Alves da Silva. Through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I felt their message was inspired and true, and I accepted it.
The Holy Ghost recently helped me to reach out to a sister who was experiencing a difficult phase in her life. I shared with her the talk given by President Elaine L. Jack, Relief Society general president, at the September 1990 General Women’s Meeting. (See “These Things Are Manifested unto Us Plainly,” Ensign, November 1990, page 88.) In her talk, President Jack referred to the story of the Savior offering the woman at the well the waters of “everlasting life.” (See John 4:14.)
How grateful I am for the Holy Ghost. That divine link with Deity has not only helped me personally, but it has also helped me bring courage and comfort to someone in need.

One evening when it was raining, the family sat around the fireside when suddenly a thought came to me. “Father,” I said, a bit boldly for a young boy, “tell us about our grandparents on your side of the family. We have seen our grandparents on Mam’s side but we have not heard anything about our other grandparents.”

Father stared into the fire for a few moments before answering. “Thomas,” he said, “that’s a good question, but I don’t know much about my father. My mother, who died a few years ago, told me that he died just after I was born, and I have never visited his grave. Someday I must do that.” Sometime later Father announced he was taking a day to go visiting out in the country. There was nothing unusual about this as he had relatives who lived in a little cottage in a village a few kilometers away.

When he returned home that night, we could tell by his actions that something was wrong. A few days later, he called the family together and told us what he had learned.

He had visited an old church in a village called Llanviangel and there he had found the record of his father and of his own birth. This was the story that our father told us:

In a little coal mining village up the valley a girl was born to his grandparents. They named her Rhonwen. When she was sixteen years old, she was sent to work as a servant for a rich family. Before a year had passed, she returned home expecting a baby. Her wealthy employer had taken advantage of her innocence. When he found she was pregnant he paid her two months’ salary and sent her home.

Rhonwen married one of the young men of the village before the baby was born. She failed to have him christened or his birth recorded, and he grew up with the name of Rhonwen’s husband who was killed in a coal mine disaster just after the child was born.

The discovery of the circumstances of his birth, which had later been recorded by the minister of the church, changed our father’s life. He lost interest in his garden and in his personal appearance. Instead of being his happy self, he became morose and moody.

Then one day, Mam, who normally was as gentle as an angel, made Father sit down in his favorite chair. Her gentleness was gone and in her eyes there was a bit of fire. “Gwyllam [William],” she said, “you are acting like a fool. Just because a wicked man took advantage of a young girl and a child was born, you are cursing yourself and putting the curse on all your family. It was God that gave you birth and I saw in you a fine man whom I loved dearly and married.”

The fire was still in her eyes as she spoke again. “Now I will not stand by and see you destroy yourself and us.”

She put her arms around his neck and in a voice that was now touched with love she said, “Oh my Gwyllam, we cannot live in the past. We have each other, our children and our love. Someone sinned but it was not you. Besides, we have the gospel and you hold the priesthood of God. Can we ask for more?”

It was then the agony in his heart burst forth and the tears came—tears that washed away the bitterness and cleansed his mind. From that day on he became our beloved father again. We resumed our walks in the hills and he tended his garden and flowers.

Are we our brother’s keeper? Yes! Let’s look at an experience from our Church history that illustrates this great principle.
John Chislett, a subcaptain in the Willie Company, one of the pioneer handcart companies, wrote:
“We reached [Fort] Laramie about the 1st or 2nd of September, but the provisions, etc., which we expected, were not there for us. Captain Willie called a meeting to take into consideration our circumstances, conditions, and prospects, and to see what could be done. It was ascertained that at our present rate of travel and consumption of flour the latter would be exhausted when we were about three hundred and fifty miles from our destin[a]tion. It was resolved to reduce our allowance from one pound to three-quarters of a pound per day, and at the same time to make every effort in our power to travel faster. We continued this rate of rations from Laramie to Independence Rock.
“About this time Captain Willie received a letter from Apostle [Willard] Richards informing him that we might expect supplies to meet us from the valley by the time we reached South Pass. An examination of our stock of flour showed us that it would be gone before we reached that point. Our only alternative was to still further reduce our bill of fare. The issue of flour was then to average ten ounces per day. …
“We had not travelled far up the Sweetwater before the nights, which had gradually been getting colder since we left Laramie, became very severe. The mountains before us, as we approached nearer to them, revealed themselves to view mantled nearly to their base in snow, and tokens of a coming storm were discernable in the clouds which each day seemed to lower around us. …
“Our seventeen pounds of clothing and bedding was now altogether insufficient for our comfort. Nearly all suffered more or less at night from cold. Instead of getting up in the morning strong, refreshed, vigorous, and prepared for the hardships of another day of toil, the poor Saints were to be seen crawling out from their tents haggard, benumbed, and showing an utter lack of that vitality so necessary to our success.
“Cold weather, scarcity of food, lassitude and fatigue from over-exertion, soon produced their effects. Our old and infirm people began to droop, and they no sooner lost spirit and courage than death’s stamp could be traced upon their features. Life went out as smoothly as a lamp ceases to burn when the oil is gone. At first the deaths occurred slowly and irregularly, but in a few days at more frequent intervals, until we soon thought it unusual to leave a campground without burying one or more persons.
“Death was not long confined in its ravages to the old and infirm, but the young and naturally strong were among its victims. … Many a father pulled his cart, with his little children on it, until the day preceding his death. I have seen some pull their carts in the morning, give out during the day, and die before next morning. …
“We travelled on in misery and sorrow day after day. Sometimes we made a pretty good distance, but at other times we were only able to make a few miles progress. Finally we were overtaken by a snowstorm which the shrill wind blew furiously about us. …
“In the morning the snow was over a foot deep. Our cattle strayed widely during the storm, and some of them died. But what was worse to us than all this was the fact that five persons of both sexes lay in the cold embrace of death.
“The morning before the storm, or, rather, the morning of the day on which it came, we issued the last ration of flour. On this fatal morning, therefore, we had none to issue. We had, however, a barrel or two of hard bread which Captain Willie had procured at Fort Laramie in view of our destitution. This was equally and fairly divided among all the company. …
“Being surrounded by snow a foot deep, out of provisions, many of our people sick, and our cattle dying, it was decided that we should remain in our present camp until the supply train reached us. … The scanty allowance of hard bread and poor beef, distributed as described, was mostly eaten the first day by the hungry, ravenous, famished souls.
“We killed more cattle and issued the meat; but, eating it without bread, did not satisfy hunger, and to those who were suffering from dysent[e]ry it did more harm than good. This terrible disease increased rapidly amongst us during these three days, and several died from exhaustion. … The recollection of it unmans me even now—those three days! During that time I visited the sick, the widows whose husbands died in serving them, and the aged who could not help themselves, to know for myself where to dispense the few articles that had been placed in my charge for distribution. Such craving hunger I never saw before, and may God in his mercy spare me the sight again.”2
At this point a dispatch was sent to President Brigham Young from Captain Grant, who was one of the forward scouts, and this is what it said:
“It is not much use for me to attempt to give a description of the situation of these people, for this you will learn from your son Joseph A. and [Brother] Garr, who are the bearers of this express; but you can imagine between five and six hundred men, women and children, worn down by drawing handcarts through snow and mud; fainting by the wayside; falling, chilled by the cold; children crying, their limbs stiffened by cold, their feet bleeding and some of them bare to snow and frost. The sight is almost too much for the stoutest of us.”4
In Salt Lake City, at general conference on 5 October 1856, this is what President Brigham Young said:
“Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles [1,100 kilometers] from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. …
“I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor until the next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen. I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them. Also 12 tons [11 tonnes] of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams. … First, 40 good young men who know how to drive teams, to take charge of the teams that are now managed by men, women and children who know nothing about driving them. Second, 60 or 65 good spans of mules, or horses, with harness, whipple trees, neck-yokes, stretchers, lead chains, &c. And thirdly, 24 thousand pounds [11,000 kilograms] of flour, which we have on hand. …
“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains. And attend strictly to those things which we call temporal, or temporal duties. Otherwise, your faith will be in vain. The preaching you have heard will be in vain to you, and you will sink to Hell, unless you attend to the things we tell you.”5
In the meantime, the Willie Company had received word that a train of supplies was on the way, and Captain Willie and one other man were sent out in search of the supply train and to hasten its rescue mission to the stranded Saints. John Chislett wrote:
“On the evening of the third day (October 21) after Captain Willie’s departure, just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, on an eminence immediately west of our camp several covered wagons, each drawn by four horses were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire, and all who were able to leave their beds turned out en masse to see them. A few minutes brought them sufficiently near to reveal our faithful captain slightly in advance of the train. Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks, and little children partook of the joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around with gladness. Restraint was set aside in the general rejoicing, and as the brethren entered our camp the sisters fell upon them and deluged them with kisses.”6
Now, as the sufferers got closer to the Salt Lake Valley, President Brigham Young again convened the Saints in the Tabernacle and said:
“When those persons arrive I do not want to see them put into houses by themselves; I want to have them distributed in the city among the families that have good and comfortable houses; and I wish all the sisters now before me, and all who know how and can, to nurse and wait upon the new comers and prudently administer medicine and food to them. To speak upon these things is a part of my religion, for it pertains to taking care of the Saints. …
“The afternoon meeting will be omitted, for I wish the sisters to go home and prepare to give those who have just arrived a mouthful of something to eat, and to wash them and nurse them up. You know that I would give more for a dish of pudding and milk, or a baked potato and salt, were I in the situation of those persons who have just come in, than I would for all your prayers, though you were to stay here all the afternoon and pray. Prayer is good, but when baked potatoes and pudding and milk are needed, prayer will not supply their place on this occasion; give every duty its proper time and place. …
“Some you will find with their feet frozen to their ankles; some are frozen to their knees and some have their hands frosted. … We want you to receive them as your own children, and to have the same feeling for them. We are their temporal saviors, for we have saved them from death.”7

While these stakes were involved in teaching homemaking skills, scheduling girls’ time around school and other activities was difficult. One father worried about his daughter’s involvement, especially with her heavy homework load. In expressing his concern that his daughter might be wasting time in her homemaking workshops, he asked the girl’s leader about the program. The leader told him to ask his daughter if she felt it was worth her time. After talking with his daughter and hearing her strong favorable reaction, he reported back to the Young Women leader. His daughter would be attending the workshops. “I had no idea she would feel that way about going to a church meeting,” he said.