Gospel Story Finder

I met Frank, a quiet, middle-aged man, in the Salt Lake City hospital where I worked as a nurse. He was admitted for tests because of poor blood circulation in his left leg. After several days of tests, the circulation became worse. Doctors agreed that Frank’s leg would have to be amputated below the knee, and the operation was performed.
Days passed, and I noticed that no visitors had been in to see Frank during the times that I worked. He had received no telephone calls or letters from friends or family.
Curious about this man who seemed so alone, I looked at his hospital record. There was no home address listed on his hospital admission form; he was a wanderer, traveling around the country with no permanent home. He had listed a sister in Texas as his nearest relative.
None of the other nurses knew any more about Frank than I did, so one day I went to see him.
He lay, quiet as usual, with his hair uncombed. He grimaced with pain as he tried to find a comfortable position.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Well, you could put that pillow under my leg right here,” he said, pointing to his thigh. “I can’t ever seem to find a comfortable position. Is it supposed to hurt so much? Is it time for another injection of pain killer yet?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s too soon to have another injection. Here, let me pour a glass of water for you.” Picking up the water pitcher, I filled his glass.
“Are you from around here?” I asked.
“No. When I finished my last work in Nevada I came through Salt Lake City looking for employment. I was on my way to Montana.”
“Oh, do you have family there?”
“No. I don’t have any family.” The words seemed to echo in the room. “I lost my family.”
He glanced at me again as the pain made him hold what was left of his leg. I placed my hand on his shoulder and stood by his side until it seemed the pain had passed.
“There was a car accident,” he explained. “My wife and five children—gone.”
Later, I sat at the nurses’ station trying to imagine the loss this man was feeling—his family, and now his leg. And he was in a strange town with no friends or family to help him through the experience.
I told the other nurses Frank’s story. We committed ourselves to becoming his friends and family. We learned that since the accident, he had traveled from town to town, working for a while, then moving on, looking for something to take the place of all that he had lost, but never able to find it. He was afraid to love and have it all taken from him again.
Each nurse had her own special way of doing things for Frank. One found out that Frank enjoyed reading western novels, so she made sure he always had one. Another kept fresh flowers from her garden by his bed. Another brought his favorite treats.
The family of a patient in the bed next to Frank’s also got involved. The Parkers brought something to Frank that touched me deeply. They gave him a picture of their family. He was very proud of it and kept it within view all the time.
He said, “Since I no longer have my own family, the Parkers want me to feel that I am a part of their family. That makes me feel good. I love to look at the little children.” Then he would point to each child and say their names as proudly as if they were his own.
It soon became evident to the doctors that the extreme pain in Frank’s leg was caused by a complication in the healing process. To correct this problem, Frank would need another operation. This meant further amputation of his left leg above the knee. It was a terrible setback for Frank. He wouldn’t talk to any of us, except to ask for another injection of pain killer.
The night prior to the scheduled operation, Frank slid to the floor of his room and dragged himself across to the window. He unlatched the bottom of the window, three floors up, fully intending to jump out and end it all. No more pain. No more depression or aching inside. No more loneliness. But he couldn’t get the window open. Falling to the floor in despair and agony, Frank lay there and cried.
The surgery went as planned. This time the remaining portion of his leg healed properly, and the pain was not as severe. We were all relieved to see Frank finally improving. The Parker family contacted the missionaries, and Frank was very receptive to their message. Then that wonderful family took Frank into their home after his release from the hospital. As soon as his leg was healed, he was baptized. He now has a new attitude about life and a desire to begin anew. Frank is looking forward to the day when he can be sealed to his departed wife and five children.
I learned an important lesson from the experience, too. As I had wondered what I could do for Frank, I had considered giving him a Book of Mormon. In fact, a copy of the Book of Mormon had made it as far as my locker at work but it had stayed there. Later, I was embarrassed to tell Frank about the book in my locker. Frank was amused by my story, but he shook his finger at me and told me never to ignore those promptings again.
I hope I never will.

My husband’s illness came on suddenly. One morning he was cutting the lawn, and the next thing we knew he was falling ill. By the next day he was on life support. As we moved from the emergency room to the operating room, one of the doctors spoke of if they would be able to save him.

Because the illness he contracted was rare, he had a slim chance of survival. I couldn’t believe the dramatic turn of events. I felt overcome with despair.

Thankfully, Pierre made it through his first surgery and was admitted to the intensive care unit (ICU). There would be a long road ahead, but his chances improved with each passing hour. The first of many nurses spoke to me the morning after the initial surgery. She talked about when Pierre made it to the next step of the treatment. I paused with the impact of that word. There was so much more hope in when than if—it communicated confidence, expectancy. I thanked her for the choice of word, and she smiled knowingly.

Pierre received many priesthood blessings, which provided great encouragement. We knew to watch for the hand of the Lord in our lives, since His influence was not a matter of if but of when. Every time Pierre’s health became dangerously fragile, I reminded him of the blessings and that we needed to demonstrate our faith in the Lord. This was a sacred journey, and each day was a gift.

The hope of when kept us positive. However, 18 days into the journey, things went terribly wrong. During the seventh surgery, his doctors determined that the disease was too widespread. The medical team tearfully expressed their sorrow as they told me that Pierre would not survive the night.

I was able to be with my eternal companion as he passed through the veil. We were blessed to have his only living child from a previous marriage on the phone to relay the love that he had for his father. Pierre passed peacefully.

Weeks later, at his graveside, words of comfort came from Mosiah 2:41: “Ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, … if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness” (emphasis added).

Pierre and I had always determined that the if in that scripture would be a when for us. We knew that by staying committed to our covenants, we would be reunited—it was a question only of when. We trust in the Lord’s plan of eternal families and eternal life. It’s the power of when that keeps us moving forward.

After my call to the Relief Society general presidency, I felt a desire to know more about the women who had served before me. I was impressed by the teachings of Sister Zina D. Young, first counselor in the second Relief Society general presidency. She said, “Sisters, it is for us to be wide awake to our duties.”1 I pondered on the words awake and duty and did some additional searching in the scriptures.
In the New Testament, Paul taught the Saints of his day:
“It is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer. …
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand: … let us put on the armour of light.”2
In the Book of Mormon, Alma taught his people the sacred duties of those who enter into a covenant with God:
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places. …
“Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have ye against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?
“And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts.”3
Sister Young’s statement and these scriptures caused me to consider the “duties” we must awaken to in our day.
When we are baptized, we enter into a covenant. Elder Robert D. Hales taught, “When we make and keep covenants, we are coming out of the world and into the kingdom of God.”4
We are changed. We look different, and we act different. The things we listen to and read and say are different, and what we wear is different because we become daughters of God bound to Him by covenant.
When we are confirmed, we receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, the right to have the constant influence of a member of the Godhead to guide us, to comfort us, and to protect us. He warns us when we are tempted to walk away from our covenants and back into the world. President Boyd K. Packer teaches that none of us “will ever make a serious mistake without first being warned by the promptings of the Holy Ghost.”5
To receive this gift and always have the Spirit with us, we must be worthy and vigilant about checking the condition of our hearts. Is our heart soft? Do we have a humble heart, a teachable heart, a gentle heart? Or have our hearts become gradually hardened as we have allowed too much of the noise of the world to distract us from the gentle promptings that have surely come from the Spirit?
When we were baptized, our hearts were changed and awakened to God. While on our mortal journey, we need to regularly ask ourselves, “If [I] have experienced a change of heart, … can [I] feel so now?”6 And if not, then why not?
Many of the early Saints “experienced this mighty change in [their] hearts.”7 It awakened them to receive temple blessings that strengthened them in their duties. Early Saints in Nauvoo went “to the temple all day and long into the night”8 to receive ordinances and make covenants before they began their journey westward.
Sarah Rich, a Relief Society sister in Nauvoo, said this: “Many were the blessings we had received in the house of the Lord, which has caused us joy and comfort in the midst of all our sorrows and enabled us to have faith in God, knowing He would guide us and sustain us in the unknown journey that lay before us.”9
With hearts changed through faith in the Savior, they relied on the power of His Atonement. They were awakened to act. They knew deep in their hearts that there was one—the Savior—who understood their personal adversity because He suffered it for them in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross. He felt their fear, their doubt, their pain, and their loneliness. He suffered their sorrows, their persecution, their hunger, their fatigue, and their loss. And because He suffered all these things, He could say to them, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”10
And they came. They trusted in and followed the prophet. They knew the journey would be long, their duty difficult. They knew that sacrifice would be required, but sustained by their faith and cleaving to their covenants, they were spiritually prepared.
Before leaving Nauvoo, a group of Saints wrote a message in the assembly hall in the temple they were forced to abandon. It read, “The Lord has beheld our sacrifice: come after us.”11
Recently I participated in a pioneer trek with young men and young women in our ward. Each morning I asked myself, “What is my sacrifice? How do I come after them?”
On the second day of the trek we had pulled our handcarts eight miles (13 km) when we came to a place on the trail called “the women’s pull.” Men and women were separated, and the men were sent ahead up a hill. As we started to pull our handcarts, I looked up to see our priesthood brethren, young and old, lining both sides of the trail, hats off in respect for the women.
The path was easy at first, but soon we were in deep sand, and the hill grew steep. I had my head down and was pushing with all my might when I felt a tug on the cart and looked up to see Lexi, one of our young women and my neighbor. She had pulled her handcart to the top and, seeing our need for help, ran back. When we reached the top, I wanted so much to run back to help those following me, but I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding so hard, the words heart attack entered my mind more than once! I watched with gratitude as other young women dropped their handcarts and ran to help.
When everyone reached the top, we took some time to record feelings in our journals. I wrote: “I didn’t prepare well enough physically so didn’t have the strength to help those following me. I may never need to pull a handcart again, but I never want to let my sisters down spiritually, never!”
It was a sacred experience that awakened me spiritually to my duties to my family and others. Throughout our journey I reflected on what I had learned.
First I thought about my sisters, those who had pulled and those who continue today to pull their handcarts alone. Nearly 20 percent of the women in those early handcart companies were alone for at least part of the way. These were women who had not married, were divorced, or were widowed. Many were single mothers.12 They all pulled together—covenant daughters, young and old, in different life circumstances, on the same path, with the same goal.
Those who ran to help their sisters in need reminded me of rescuers, both seen and unseen, who are quick to observe, see a need, and act.
I thought of the Lord’s words: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”13
Lining both sides of the trail were faithful, obedient, covenant-keeping men. Their priesthood power—the power God uses to bless all His children—lifted, strengthened, and supported us. They were a reminder that we are never alone. We can have this power with us always as we keep our covenants.
I thought of the men who were separated on the journey from families, leaving them to pull the handcart alone. Many men died on the journey. Some sons stayed behind to serve missions in their native lands. Others had emigrated earlier to prepare for their families’ arrival in the Salt Lake Valley. Some men were absent by choice, having chosen not to keep their covenants.
Like those who went before, many today live in circumstances that are not ideal. We continue to teach and strive for the ideal because we know that continually striving will keep us progressing along the path and prepare us for opportunities to receive all promised blessings as we “wait upon the Lord.”14
Each of us has had and will continue to have adversity in our lives. This mortal life is a time of testing, and we will continue to have opportunities to use our agency to choose what we will learn from the adversity that will surely come.
As daughters of God, we continue on the path in faith because we recognize, as President Thomas S. Monson taught, “The saving ordinances received in the temple that permit us to someday return to our Heavenly Father in an eternal family relationship and to be endowed with blessings and power from on high are worth every sacrifice and every effort.”15
It isn’t enough to just be on the journey; we must be awake to our duty and continue with faith as we draw upon the comforting, strengthening, enabling, and healing power of the Atonement.
Sisters, I love you. I don’t know many of you personally, but I do know who you are! We are covenant-keeping daughters in His kingdom, and endowed with power through our covenants, we are prepared to do our duty.
Relief Society prepares women for the blessings of eternal life by awakening us spiritually to increase in faith and personal righteousness. Let us begin with ourselves. Let us begin where we are. Let us begin today. When we are spiritually awake, we will be better able to strengthen families and homes and help others.
This is a work of salvation, and the strengthening and enabling power of the Atonement makes it possible. Awaken to who we are. Awaken to our duty. We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us. Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Carrie put her finger on her zoo-animal calendar and once more counted the days before she would be baptized. Today was Sunday, and in just seven more days she would be eight years old—old enough for baptism.
Today was really important, too, and maybe just a little bit scary, because today she would have her baptism interview with the branch president. President Stevenson wasn’t unfriendly, but Carrie was worried that he would give her a test about the Articles of Faith or the Ten Commandments or something.
“Carrie,” Mom called, “it’s time to get up. Remember, your interview is right after sacrament meeting.”
Carrie slipped out of bed and onto her knees. During her prayer, a warm feeling came over her, and she knew that everything would be all right. She remembered that it was the sort of calm feeling that Sister Cowan, her CTR-A teacher, had taught her could come to her through the Holy Ghost.
“Get out of my way,” Nathan growled later as he shoved past Carrie into the bathroom.
Wow! she thought. I hope he’s not going to be a real grouch all day.
But Nathan was still scowling as he, Carrie, and Mom and Dad left for church.
“Good morning, Carrie. Your big day is coming up next week, right?” Carrie felt a familiar arm around her shoulder as Sister Cowan gave her a hug. “Your interview with President Stevenson is today, isn’t it? You’re really ready for baptism—I know you are.”
Sister Cowan always made Carrie feel special. But that warm feeling disappeared as Nathan came toward her—he still had a frown on his face.
Just then President Stevenson came out of the chapel. “I’ll be seeing you right after church, won’t I, Carrie?” he said with a big, warm smile.
Carrie nodded and smiled back. Maybe our visit will be OK, she thought.
Then President Stevenson smiled at Nathan. But Nathan didn’t smile back—he was being a dedicated grouch today. The branch president simply said, “Nathan, remember?”
Miracles really do happen, Carrie thought as Nathan started to grin, then gave President Stevenson a great big smile!
“I remember.” Nathan’s smile grew and lasted as he ambled down the hall.
Did I see a miracle? Carrie wondered. And what did Nathan remember?
During sacrament meeting, Carrie glanced over at Judy. Carrie thought that she always looked sort of sad. But now, as Judy looked up from her hymnbook, she broke into a smile! Following Judy’s gaze, Carrie saw President Stevenson smiling at Judy from the stand.
How can he make Nathan and Judy smile when nobody else can? Carrie asked herself.
Soon, the meeting was over, and the branch members were visiting in the foyer.
“Carrie.” She felt a light touch on her shoulder. “Are you ready for our interview?”
Nodding, she followed the branch president to his office.
“I’m really glad we can visit today about your baptism,” President Stevenson told her. “Would it be OK if we started with a prayer?”
When he finished the prayer, he opened his scriptures and asked, “Do you remember when the Prophet Abinadi tried to teach King Noah about God? The only one in the king’s court who believed Abinadi was Alma. After Alma was converted, he gathered others and taught them the gospel. He said that for people to be ready for baptism, they should ‘mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places’” (Mosiah 18:9).
As they talked about what Alma had written, Carrie was glad that Sister Cowan had discussed it all in her class.
When President Stevenson asked Carrie if she would be willing to do all that Alma said, she answered yes and really meant it.
“The next verses talk about a covenant between the people being baptized and God. Do you know what a covenant is?” President Stevenson asked.
Covenant? Oh no! This is the test, and I can’t remember what it is! “Well, uh, not really,” was all she could mumble.
“That’s all right, Carrie. Lots of people don’t really know. A covenant is an agreement, or promise, between two people. They agree, or covenant, that as long as one of them does what has been agreed upon, the other is bound to do what he promised. Alma spoke of baptism as a covenant between us and God. If we agree to be baptized and always remember the Savior and keep his commandments, he agrees to send his Spirit to always be with us. Do you understand this?”
“I guess so, sort of.”
The branch president smiled. “Maybe it’ll be easier to understand if you and I make a simple agreement, OK? Here’s our agreement: Whenever I see you, whether it’s here at church or someplace else, I promise that I will smile at you, even if I’m not feeling happy. But if I do that, then you have to promise that you’ll smile back at me, even if you don’t feel like smiling. Do you think we can make that agreement?”
“OK. I can do that.”
“Good. Now, as a symbol of our agreement to smile, let’s shake hands.” Her small hand was smothered by his, but it felt warm and firm, not scary.
“Now, just as our handshake was a symbol of our agreement, your baptism will be a symbol of the covenant—a very sacred agreement—that you are making with God. He’ll send you his Spirit if you take the name of Jesus Christ upon you by being baptized and remembering him and obeying his commandments. The sacrament prayers will help you remember this sacred covenant that you are making with Heavenly Father. Do you understand better now?”
“Yes, President Stevenson.” Carrie smiled.
“I think that you are prepared for your baptism, Carrie. Tell your parents I’d like to talk with them about arrangements for your baptismal service.”
She got up to leave, then turned back with a grin. “President Stevenson, have you made the smile agreement with the other kids who have been baptized?”
“Yes, I have. Everyone—even adults—who has been baptized in our branch since I’ve been branch president has made the same agreement with me. I think it helps everyone understand better what a covenant is, and every time we smile at each other, we remember just how sacred our baptism covenant is. Their smiles show that they are happy to have made their covenants with Heavenly Father. Don’t you think so?”
Remembering Nathan and Judy, Carrie thought so too. She smiled as she hurried to find her parents.

It sounded simple. For two weeks I was to choose a family member and every day give something small to the person to express my love. I chose my little brother because we usually did not get along very well, and I figured this would be a good opportunity to draw closer to him. I decided to do it anonymously, and for the first week I bought him small bags of candy and various trinkets, leaving them by the side of his bed or under his pillow. After the week was over, I was thinking, Wow, this has got to be the easiest Personal Progress goal ever!
The second week, however, fell during our family camping trip, and the absence of convenient stores seriously complicated things. But I soon found that all it took was a little more creativity. Instead of buying things, I started doing things. I helped him roll his sleeping bag, whittle a marshmallow stick, and untangle his fishing line. Thinking constantly of ways to serve my brother strengthened our relationship incredibly, and I could see clearly the promise being fulfilled: “He that loveth his brother abideth in the light” (1 Jn. 2:10).
The last day of camp I lay in the dark tent, deep in the woods, listening to the soft calls of the birds and the gentle splashing of water from the nearby lake. The wind rustled through the tree tops, and I felt a cool breeze across my face.
“Someone tie up the window,” my brother mumbled sleepily. I felt him shiver beside me and suddenly realized that I had not done anything for him that day. I tied up the window, but since it was the last day, I felt I should give him something extra special. Maybe when we get home, I can buy him something especially expensive, I thought. No, that won’t do. It has to be today, and he is almost asleep. I lay quietly, thinking for a moment, and then rolled onto my side to face my brother.
“Warren,” I whispered.
“Hmmmm?”
“I love you.”
He was quiet for a second before he clearly responded, “I love you, too.”
I lay on my back and looked through the “sun roof” at the clear, dark sky and smiled.

I have a young nephew who went to work this last summer on a road-paving crew in order to earn money for his mission. One day a car on the other side of the divided highway crossed the median and all lanes of traffic and pinned my nephew against a concrete barrier. He had been looking the other way and never even saw the car. Although my nephew felt blessed to have escaped death, his left foot was crushed. After months of trying to save the foot, the doctors amputated it last month.

One might ask, “Why? This is a good young man working to fund a mission so that he can serve the Lord, and, through no fault of his own, he suddenly finds himself in bed for six months trying to heal his foot—only to have it amputated. Why? Where is the balance?”

We are not alone in these feelings. Sections 121 and 122 of the Doctrine and Covenants were given to the Prophet Joseph Smith while he was in Liberty Jail. In verses 1 through 6 of section 121 the Prophet pleaded with the Lord to remember the Saints in their suffering. In verses 7 and 8 the Lord responded to the Prophet by saying:
My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.
As if to emphasize His point, in section 122 the Lord told the Prophet Joseph that even if he was “called to pass through tribulation,” “accused with all manner of false accusations,” torn from family and friends, “cast into the pit,” sentenced to death, and, above all, chased after by the very depths of hell, he would gain experience and it would be for his good (D&C 122:5–7). Debits equal credits. Although we may not see it, and we experience much pain and suffering in the process, everything in our book of life is, when considered in the eternal sense, in balance.

I know of a young mother with five little children who called an older sister, her valued mentor, and asked, “Can we go on a hike?” Her friend knew that meant she needed to talk. Halfway through an eight-mile loop, the young mother finally said, “I just can’t believe that Heavenly Father loves me; I’ve made lots of mistakes in my life. I can’t feel that I’m worthy of His love; how can He possibly love me?” Sisters, this was a woman who had made temple covenants and was active in the Church. And yet she still felt unworthy of His love. The older sister quickly responded, “Of course He loves you. You’re His daughter.”

The spring Lanny was born, the Toronto Maple Leafs were in the quarterfinals of the Stanley Cup playoffs—led by the playmaking defense of Borje Salming, the quick goaltending of Mike Palmateer, and the scoring touch of right winger Lanny McDonald.
Mr. O‘Brien was a big Maple Leafs fan. In fact, while his wife was delivering in the hospital in Basques, Mr. O‘Brien watched game 7 of the quarterfinals in the waiting room. By the time the doctor came out to say “It’s a boy,” the Maple Leafs and New York Islanders were locked in a 1–1 overtime battle.
The doctor, who liked a good game of hockey as much as the next Newfie, stayed. And finally, when the CBC [Canadian Broadcasting Corporation] announcer screamed in a breathless frenzy that Lanny McDonald had scored to advance the Leafs to the semifinals against the Montreal Canadiens, both the doctor and Mr. O‘Brien had the same idea: The kid’s name must be Lanny McDonald O‘Brien.
They signed the birth certificate before Mrs. O‘Brien had a chance to slap them both.

Rosi dropped her backpack to the floor. She had just finished her second day in her new class. And it had not been a good day.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
Rosi slumped down on the couch. “Some kids in my class said mean things to me,” she said. “About my brown skin.”
There weren’t many people at school who had skin the same color as Rosi’s, so she felt like she didn’t belong. But the teasing made her feel a hundred times worse.
Mom looked worried. “I’m sorry,” she said. She gave Rosi a hug. “I’ll talk to your teacher about it.”
But the next day at school, Rosi got teased again. One boy in her class was mean to her all day.
Rosi felt sad. But she also felt angry. Sometimes when he was rude to her, Rosi argued back. But it didn’t make her feel better.
One day when Rosi got home from school, she ran straight to her room. She was tired of being teased. She was tired of feeling like she didn’t belong. She put her face in her pillow and cried.
What am I going to do? she thought. She didn’t want to feel like this for the rest of the school year.
Rosi wiped her eyes. Then she looked up at the little statue of Jesus that was on her bookshelf. Mom had given it to Rosi to help her remember Jesus.
Maybe I should pray, she thought. She got down on her knees and folded her arms.
“Dear Heavenly Father, I’m really hurting inside. My classmates are mean to me because of my brown skin, and it makes me feel awful. Please help me.”
It felt good to tell Heavenly Father about her feelings. She knew He was listening. She felt warm and loved, like a soft blanket was being wrapped around her. She felt that her skin color was beautiful. She was a child of God, and He loved her.
When Rosi finished praying, she had an idea. Maybe there was more she could do to help at her school.
The next week, Rosi and her mom talked to the people in charge of the school about what was happening in her classroom. Rosi looked out for other kids at school who were being bullied and became friends with them. She tried to ignore the boy who teased her. And at church on Sunday, she shared her testimony that Heavenly Father loved everyone.
Things at school didn’t get better right away. But when it was hard, Rosi remembered how she felt during her prayer. She was a child of God, and she was loved. And because she knew that, she could do anything.

For Shelley Gray, institute reassured her she could find Mormon friends at a non-LDS school. She didn’t know anyone when she came to Texas from Midvale, Utah. “But because I knew the institute was here, I felt safe,” she says.
And she was right. The first time she went to institute, everyone rushed to make friends with her. “If you make the first effort, you’ll just get sucked in,” she says. “We really stick together. There’s a lot of group dating, and there are tons of neat people here.”

Sydney, Australia newlyweds Oleni and Ana Ngungutau started their life together by praying to know what the Lord had in store for them to learn. Soon after, Oleni was offered a 2-year contract to play rugby for a local club in Griffith, a small town six hours out of Sydney. After much discussion and prayer, they decided to take the offer and the club advanced them wages and bonuses to help the family move and get settled in their new community.
To the couple’s surprise, once the season kicked off, many of the games were scheduled for Sundays. Their first thought was about the club’s help when they arrived. The chairman made it clear that Oleni needed to pay off his debt by playing the games that were scheduled.
Oleni says, “Back when I was playing in Sydney . . . all our rugby games were on Saturdays. This was new to me, and I felt uncomfortable playing on Sundays . . . I felt that I needed to address this concern with my club.”
Not long after that conversation COVID-19 arrived, and the season was cancelled for the year. Oleni felt this was an answer to his prayer, but his contract was extended for two more years so he could play a whole season and clear his debt to the club.
Oleni recalls, “As the new season was approaching in 2021, I advised [the club chairman] that I would not be playing on Sundays and that I would find a way to pay back what I owed. He told me I had two options: ‘play it off’ or ‘pay it off’. I knew without a doubt that the right thing to do was to keep the commandment of the Lord and He would provide a way.”
He contacted his bishop for comfort and counselling and was reassured that his decision was correct. “I called the chairman back and told him that I [was leaving] the club and would pay off my debt. They gave me ten months to do so.”
The Ngungutaus agreed that they would work hard to pay off their debt and serve harder in their callings as seminary teachers. They trusted that if they did their part, the Lord would provide a way.
“After my decision to keep the Sabbath day holy . . .Heavenly Father blessed us in so many ways. Doors were opened and I received a pay raise in my job,” says Oleni. A few months later, Oleni started his own business and was able to pay off the club debt even sooner. The couple could finally move back to Sydney.
That was when Oleni received a call to meet with his stake president, who invited him to serve as bishop of the Griffith Ward, Riverina Stake. “This was a shock,” he recalls. “The drive home was just silent and tearful.” When they arrived, Oleni and Ana knelt in prayer and asked Heavenly Father for comfort.
Oleni remembers: “It was then that the Spirit reassured me that I did not move here from Sydney to play rugby. Heavenly Father brought me here to serve His children and be an instrument in building up His kingdom in this part of His vineyard. Now, we don’t have plans to move back to Sydney but instead plan to serve with all our hearts, might, mind, and strength in this calling. I’ve seen the Lord’s hand in my ministry thus far and have so much love for my ward and this great work.”
“I know my Saviour sacrificed His life for me, and the most I can do in return is strive to be obedient in keeping His commandments. When I fall short, I know I can turn to His Atonement to lift me up and strengthen me to keep pressing forward. Keeping the Sabbath day holy is a blessing. I know as we follow this commandment our lives will be filled with light and wisdom to bless others during the week.”

Desmond Ahwireng, a youth, played Anansi, a legendary spider from African folklore. Onstage, Anansi went from village to village looking for all the good things in the world so he could keep them for himself, gathering them into a gourd he carried on his head. As he approached each village, the youth in that village sang and danced for him and gave him good things such as courage, service, love, music, and family.
At the end of his journey, Anansi found the Accra Ghana Temple. The beauty of the temple convinced the selfish spider that he should not keep all the good things he had collected for himself, so he emptied the contents of his gourd to share them with everyone. Anansi’s good deed was greeted by 700 Primary children, all dressed in white, singing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).

After my baptism on 30 January 2009, I was so active in Church, even more active than my friend who invited me, so I started to visit him with missionaries. I asked the missionaries to visit my mother also. I wanted her to be blessed by the gospel I had received.

On July 4, 2014, my mother was also baptised, to my greatest joy. I went on to serve a full-time mission in the Nigeria Benin City Mission. I stood as a witness of the truth. I testify that the gospel is true. I know that Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ, and he was a true prophet. I know with all my heart that if we read the Book of Mormon daily and ponder and pray about it, we will know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer.

Geoffrey got off his bike in front of Bob Tschaggeny’s home and sat down on the front steps with him.
“Monday it will start all over again,” said Bob. “School isn’t bad except for that first day. The teacher looks at my name ‘Tschaggeny’ on the card and doesn’t know how to pronounce it. He’s embarrassed and so am I. The same thing happens every year.”
“I know just what you mean,” said Geof, “but it’s my first name they can’t pronounce. The teacher starts to say ‘George,’ then tries ‘Geeof,’ and then ends up with ‘Jeff.’ Half the time they just call me George and I have to explain that my name is pronounced ‘Jeff.’”
“What would it be like to have a simple name?” mused Bob.
“Hi, Geof,” called their friend Mary who was walking along the sidewalk. “What are you two talking about? You look like the end of the world has come.”
“Not the world,” said Geof. “It’s the end of summer.”
“I’m glad,” said Mary. “I like school.”
“You would,” said Bob, “with a name like yours.”
“My name is dull,” responded Mary. “Mary Jones—how plain and ordinary!”
“Right,” said Geof, “but you don’t have to spell it or tell people how to pronounce it. Bob hates to have his name said wrong too. No teacher has said my name right yet.”
“But your names are distinguished. They’re different. They make you a somebody. Mary Jones—how bland. I wish my name were exciting. One year a girl named Huttaballe sat in front of me. The teacher said to her, ‘What an interesting name. What nationality is it?’ Then she looked at my card and just said, ‘Oh, Mary Jones.’”
That night Bob said to his parents, “Isn’t there something we could do with our name so it would be easier to pronounce? Why do we have a silent T in front?”
“Tschaggeny is an honorable Swiss name, son. You should be proud of it,” Father replied. “Our name has been on the records since 1500.”
In the Gordon home that night, Geof said to his mother, “Why did you have to name me after the old poet Geoffrey Chaucer? If you wanted to call me Jeff, why didn’t you spell it J-e-f-f?”
“We didn’t name you after the poet, Geof,” said his mother. “We thought that spelling your name with a “G” looked better with Gordon, and it seemed to suit you very well.”
As Mary Jones helped her mother with the dishes that night, she said, “I always thought it would be nice to have a distinctive name, but Bob Tschaggeny and Geoffrey Gordon are disgusted because they have to spell and pronounce their names for our new teacher every year. I guess none of us are satisfied.”
“Mary,” said her mother, “every time I say your name I remember all the lovely Marys I’ve known or read about. It makes your name even more beautiful to me.”
Monday morning, Bob, Geof, and Mary were seated at their desks in school, waiting to welcome their new teacher. He stood behind his desk, very tall and very straight. He nodded to the class and then wrote the word “One” on the chalkboard.
When the bell rang, the teacher said, “You will each notice a number on the upper left-hand corner of your desk. That number will identify you. We will no longer use names. Your number should be put at the top of all your papers too. You are to address me as ‘One.’”
The class began, and through reading, social studies, arithmetic, and gym, each student was called by a number. No names were used. Bob and Geof thought the idea was great. Their problem seemed to be solved.
During supper that night, Bob’s father asked him if the new teacher could pronounce his name correctly.
“He didn’t have to,” laughed Bob. “We don’t have names this year. The teacher gave each of us a number instead.”
“Do you like that better?” asked his father.
“Well,” said Bob, “It’s been great so far.”
“So you really don’t need a name,” his father questioned further. “It seems very impersonal to me.”
“I still like it fine,” Bob insisted, but he didn’t sound quite so sure this time.
When Geof came home from school his mother asked, “Well, who is it this time? George, Geeof, or Geof?”
“None of those,” said Geof. “This year I’m ‘Ten.’” Then he explained the new teacher’s system of using numbers.
“That’s interesting,” said Mother, “How does he call the numbers? Does he say each one loudly with a different feeling or tone?”
“Nope,” said Geof, “he just stands tall and straight and says numbers without a smile or a nod or any feeling.”
“Guess what? We don’t need names this year,” Mary told her mother when she reached home after school.
“What do you mean?” asked Mother.
“We all have numbers so we don’t use any names. And would you believe it, I’m ‘Thirteen.’ Isn’t that different for me to be called something distinctive?”
In a few weeks the novelty of being known as numbers had worn off. Mary, Bob, and Geof were glad when Friday night came so that for two days at least they would be called by their own names. All the children agreed that school didn’t seem the same as it had other years. Everyone was disinterested. There was no spirit of competition or sharing and little concern about success or failure.
One Monday morning on the way to school Mary saw Bob and Geof just poking along.
“What’s wrong now?” she called.
“What fun is it to go to school and just be ‘Ten’ again?” Geof asked.
“Or ‘Thirteen’” Mary replied. “I don’t like being called ‘Thirteen.’ I like the way my mother calls me ‘Mary’ and I wish everyone else would too.”
“Well, I wish …” But Bob’s wish was cut off by the sound of the bell, and the three friends hurried to class.
At the door of the classroom the teacher stood smiling. He handed each of them a piece of chalk and said, “Good morning. Please take this chalk and write your full name on the board with the others.”
After the last student sat down, they all looked up at the chalkboard. It was covered with the names of everyone in class and it looked good! Across the top in large letters the name SAM SMITH was written.
The teacher turned to the class. “Thank you,” he said, “for cooperating with me in my experiment these past weeks. You helped me prove something. When you became a number, you each seemed to become less of a person. You were interested and excited boys and girls at the beginning of the school year. Now you don’t seem to care much about school or each other.”
The students looked around at their classmates as the teacher continued, “My name is Sam Smith. I’m glad to know each of you by your names—Thomas Ward, Robert Tschaggeny, Geoffrey Gordon, Mary Jones, John Martin. …”
Mr. Smith looked at each one with a friendly smile on his face as he said the names. “Now let’s remember who we really are and work together,” he suggested.
“Thank you, Mr. Sam Smith,” Bob said.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Smith,” the other boys and girls chorused. “That’ll be great!”

A few years ago, Rick and Jane went to a counselor for help in resolving the differences that were tearing their marriage apart. He listened to their stories. Both told him of ways they had been wronged by the other. Their resentments were so deep that the counselor didn’t see how they could be reconciled. But as he struggled to help them find solutions, he thought of the Sermon on the Mount. He was reminded that President Harold B. Lee had called the Sermon on the Mount “the constitution for a perfect life” (Decisions for Successful Living, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1973, page 57).
The counselor handed the couple a Bible and asked them to open it to Matthew, chapters 5 through 7. “Will you read the entire Sermon on the Mount out loud, together, three times this week?” he asked. “And each time, after reading it, will you each name at least one thing that you must change to bring your life into harmony with its teachings? Remember that you must not tell each other how to change. Focus on what you must do.” They were hesitant but agreed.
The next week, they returned to the counselor’s office friendly to each other. They were ready to talk about ways to compromise and cooperate. At least three good things had happened as a result of their completing the assignment. First, reading the scriptures together brought the Spirit back into their marriage. Second, the assignment forced them to examine their own motives and behaviors rather than those of their spouse. And third, they did the assignment without fighting.

A few days after our sixth son Scott was born, we took him home from the hospital. We were greeted at the front door by our excited children. I sat on the sofa in our living room and began unwrapping the quilts for Scott’s brothers and sisters to meet him. Five-year-old Amanda sat by me. As she saw her brother, she said, “Oh, mama, I am so excited. Even though I have never seen him before, I love him already.” Even though we have not met many of you, we love you already. We pray for you, that you will be happy. We pray that you will work hard, that you will do your very best, that you will be safe, and that this semester will bless your life.

President David O. McKay spoke about his horse Dandy, who wanted complete freedom and no restraints. President McKay said:
“Under the saddle he was as willing, responsive, and cooperative as a horse could be. …
“But Dandy resented restraint. He was ill-contented when tied and would nibble at the tie-rope until he was free. He would not run away, he just wanted to be free. Thinking other horses felt the same, he would proceed to untie their ropes. …
“… His curiosity and desire to explore the neighborhood led him and me into trouble. Once on the highway he was hit by an automobile. …
“Recovering from that, and still impelled with a feeling of wanderlust, he inspected the fence throughout the entire boundary. He even found the gates wired. …
“One day, however, somebody left the gate unwired. Detecting this, Dandy unlatched it and took another horse … with him, and together they … went to an old house used for storage. Dandy’s curiosity prompted him to push open the door. … There was a sack of grain. What a find! Yes, and what a tragedy. The grain was bait for rodents! In a few minutes Dandy and the other horse were in spasmodic pain, and shortly afterwards both were dead.”
President McKay continued: “How like Dandy are many of our youth! … They are impulsive, full of life, full of curiosity. … They, too, are restive under restraint, but if they are kept busy, guided carefully and rightly, they prove to be responsive and capable; but if left to wander unguided, they all too frequently violate principles of right which often lead to snares of evil, disaster, and even death.”

In 1986, I was invited to give a special lecture at a university in Accra, Ghana. There I met a number of dignitaries, including an African tribal king. As we visited prior to the lecture, the king spoke to me only through his linguist, who then translated for me. I responded to the linguist, and the linguist then translated my responses to the king.
After my lecture, the king made his way directly to me, but this time without his linguist. To my surprise, he spoke in perfect English—the Queen’s English, I might add!
The king seemed puzzled. “Just who are you?” he asked.
I replied, “I am an ordained Apostle of Jesus Christ.”
The king asked, “What can you teach me about Jesus Christ?”
I responded with a question: “May I ask what you already know about Him?”
The king’s response revealed he was a serious student of the Bible and one who loved the Lord.
I then asked if he knew about the ministry of Jesus Christ to the people of ancient America.
As I expected, he did not.
I explained that after the Savior’s Crucifixion and Resurrection, He came to the people of ancient America, where He taught His gospel. He organized His Church and asked His disciples to keep a record of His ministry among them.
“That record,” I continued, “is what we know as the Book of Mormon. It is another testament of Jesus Christ. It is a companion scripture to the Holy Bible.”
At this point, the king became very interested. I turned to the mission president accompanying me and asked if he had an extra copy of the Book of Mormon with him. He pulled one from his briefcase.
I opened it to 3 Nephi chapter 11, and together the king and I read the Savior’s sermon to the Nephites. I then presented the copy of the Book of Mormon to him. His response lodged in my mind and heart forever: “You could have given me diamonds or rubies, but nothing is more precious to me than this additional knowledge about the Lord Jesus Christ.”
After experiencing the power of the Savior’s words in 3 Nephi, the king proclaimed, “If I am converted and join the Church, I will bring my whole tribe with me.”
“Oh, King,” I said, “it doesn’t work that way. Conversion is an individual matter. The Savior ministered to the Nephites one by one. Each individual receives a witness and testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Two such faithful members, James Ewudzie and Frederick Antwi, assisted me one day in the Accra Ghana Temple. Several years before Latter-day Saint missionaries arrived in Ghana, James had been part of a group of about 1,000 people who used the Book of Mormon and other Church materials in their church services. They prayed for the day that the Church would come to Ghana. He joined with other young men traveling around Ghana and teaching the gospel as found in our materials. Once missionaries arrived in 1978, he was baptized on the first day that Latter-day Saint baptisms were performed in Ghana.

Fred Antwi, a pioneer member of the Church in Ghana

Early in Fred’s time as a member, he attended the funeral of a relative who was a tribal chief. There he found out that the family plan was to make him the new chief. Knowing that such a position would cause him to do things contrary to his gospel beliefs, he sped away after the burial and turned his back on a position that would have brought him prominence and wealth.

Once the Accra Temple was dedicated, both James and Fred traveled over four hours, one way, every week so that they could be temple workers. As I performed ordinances with them, I was overcome with the sense of history that surrounded me. Realizing the Church history in Africa that the two of them represented, I felt like it was akin to having John Taylor or Wilford Woodruff or other early members of the Church with me doing those ordinances.

I have had that happen to me recently. I was sitting in my home ward in the presence of a teacher who said something, and I felt a very faint prompting from the Spirit to act that day. I bear you my testimony that the scriptures are not being poetic when they describe the Holy Ghost as the still, small voice. It is so quiet that if you are noisy inside, you won’t hear it. It is real. I felt also that if I didn’t do it promptly, I would not again, at least not soon, feel that gentle instruction. So I did it. It is already changing my life and the lives of my children, some of whom are here tonight. I am confident that because I went and did the small thing that I felt impressed by the quiet voice to do, I made it more likely that I could receive a spiritual nudge again.