Gospel Story Finder

In August 2003 I started my own company doing painting, gardening, landscaping, and maintenance work. Things aren’t always easy when you have your own company, especially when starting out. At the beginning of one month, Rebeca and I needed to pay rent for our home. We didn’t have a penny. So one morning we prayed that we might somehow obtain the money we needed. Later that day I was hired for a job that paid enough to cover our rent.

Susa Young Gates, one of Brigham Young’s daughters, also understood that family history was important. She had been about to die, but a priesthood blessing had miraculously cured her, and she was given this promise: “There has been a council in heaven, and it has been decided you shall live to perform temple work, and you shall do a greater work than you have ever done before.”* Once she recovered, she devoted much of her time to helping people find their ancestors. She started genealogy classes, encouraged Saints throughout Utah and Canada to do research, and compiled a book on genealogy.

I am ever grateful to many of the Brethren for their examples of kindness and thoughtfulness to their wives. I well remember, when I was a stake president, the example set by the late Elder S. Dilworth Young of the First Council of the Seventy. At that time, his first wife, Gladys, was an invalid, having suffered a cruel stroke. She remained that way for many years before her death in 1964. Brother Young made the extra effort to dress her, feed her, and care for her. In all my life I have not seen a greater example of gentleness and solicitude than Brother Young showed to Gladys. He once told me, “It was the worst thing in the world that could have happened to Gladys and the best thing for me. It made me decent. I learned what love really should be.”

Even though he seems to have conquered every obstacle in his life, at one time Spence felt his leg would stop him from serving a mission. “I was about 16. I was struggling. I didn’t know if I was going on a mission. I have a fake leg, and I was scared. I thought I’d just rather not go. And I was having trouble with sports. My prosthetic legs were breaking a lot, and things were not good.
“One night, after family home evening, I got a feeling that I needed to read something. I didn’t know what. We have a bunch of Church books up on our shelf. I’d never looked at them before. I pulled out a book by Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone. I started reading it. I got to one story when Elder Featherstone was talking to a kid who didn’t have a leg. He wasn’t going on a mission, but then Elder Featherstone talked to him about it. I put myself into what was happening. The kid came back and told Elder Featherstone that he had a mission call and he was going to go. I just stopped. I realized, ‘That’s me. He’s talking straight to me.’ I set the book down. I had found my answer.”
But that moment was just the beginning of the changes in Spence’s life. For the first time in his life, he started praying on his own. He’d been taught to pray, but up until then, he had only prayed when called on in Sunday School or in his family. “Now I pray all the time in everything, in every sporting event, before every test. I pray for help,” says Spence. “My whole life turned around. Church hadn’t been my main priority, sports were. Now the gospel is the main thing. I have gained even more of a testimony of the Atonement. What Jesus Christ did for me is unbelievable.
“These past couple of years, I’ve been a lot happier. Even people at school can see that I’m a lot happier, a lot friendlier. I talk to everybody. If they say hi to me, I’ll talk to them. I hardly ever get mad anymore. That’s what I try to explain to my friends who aren’t members of the Church. It’s not that we’re out to convert you just to have another member of the Church. We want to make you happier.”
In the end, Spence learned what everyone has to learn for themselves—it doesn’t matter what you have to deal with in this life; if you turn to the Lord, He will listen and guide you in your decisions. And that’s why Spence packed his extra leg and made the commitment to serve the Lord for two years on a mission.

I never cease to marvel at the complexities and the power of the human mind. I was reminded of this recently when, in a restaurant, I heard a voice from behind call my name and say, “Hello.” I turned to look upon a man who, at first glance, appeared to be a stranger, but who in a moment I recognized as an old friend from long ago almost hidden behind the mask of his advancing years. With that recognition, his name came to mind, along with mental images of the circumstances under which we had first met and of incidents that had passed between us thereafter. This whole episode did not take more than a few seconds and was triggered by the visual image that passed from the eye to the brain—all else was automatic. But the marvelous retrieval system of the human mind is actuated not only by visual impulses, but also by sounds and by smells, by tastes and by touch.

The game was going great until Brian, the shortstop, sprained a finger while fielding a line drive.
“José, you’re in.” Coach yelled as he raced out onto the field.
José grabbed his glove and jumped off the bench. I’ve never played shortstop, he thought. I hope I do OK.
The next batter hit a hot grounder to José’s right. As he reached for the ball, it took a squirrelly hop up in the air. He made a stab at it but only managed to keep the ball in the infield. “Sorry, guys,” he yelled to his teammates as the runners pulled up at first and second.
“Good stop,” Matthew called from the pitcher’s mound.
José shrugged. “That should have been the last out,” he mumbled. “Brian would have made it easy.”
The next batter struck out, and the game was over. The Asteroids had won 3–2.
“Way to go, team,” Coach praised them in the dugout. “Only one game left in the season. We may not be number one, but this is the best year we’ve ever had. I’m really proud of you guys.”
Everyone whooped and whistled and high-fived each other.
Coach continued, “I’m handing out the ballots for you to vote on player awards. Remember, these are secret ballots. The awards will be given out next Saturday night at the banquet. And I hope you’ll all be back to play next year.”
He doesn’t mean me, José thought. Who needs a bench warmer! He glanced down at the voting form. Most improved player. Easy. James. He was the best first baseman in the whole league.
Best athlete. Cinch. Matthew, the pitcher. Not only was he the fastest runner on the team, he had an arm that rivaled the best professional pitcher’s.
Most valuable player. It had to be Brian, the shortstop. He was an awesome all-around player. He could field, run, and smack a homer over the center field fence.
On the way out, Coach stopped him. “José,” he said, “Mitchell has a dentist’s appointment next Saturday. Would you fill in at catcher?”
José shrugged. “Sure, Coach.”
“I knew that I could count on you.” Coach squeezed his shoulder.
José kicked his bat up over his shoulder. Don’t count on much, he thought. I’m not the greatest catcher in the world, either. I bet I’ve filled in at every position on the field, but I’m not great at any of them. That’s why I’ve never had a permanent position—besides bench warmer.
The Asteroids won their final game in a squeaker. José overthrew second base once, allowing a steal, and he dropped a few pitches. Otherwise, he played a good game. Not great, just good enough.
“Way to go, José!” Matthew said, high-fiving him at the plate. “See you tonight at the banquet.”
“The banquet?” He had tried to forget it. He’d probably be the only guy there who didn’t win an award of some sort. “Uh, I don’t think I can make it. Mom and Dad won’t be home tonight, and I don’t have a ride.”
Matthew’s eyes grew wide. “Are you kidding? You’re not coming?”
“Sorry. I’d like to. I want to see you win Best Athlete and all—”
“Hey, Coach,” Matthew yelled at the departing coach, cutting José off. “I’ll see you around, José.” He punched him in the arm and sprinted off.
That evening, while José was lying on his bed, tossing his baseball in the air, his big sister pounded on the door. “Hey, little bro—you have company.”
“Company?” He rolled off the bed and opened the door. “Coach! What are you doing here?”
“Come on, José. If you don’t hustle, we’re going to be late for the banquet. Matthew told me that you needed a ride.”
José gulped. I shouldn’t have told Matthew I needed a ride, he thought. He pulled on his baseball cap and hurried out.
Soon the boys were all stuffed with the good banquet food. Even so, they were on the edges of their chairs, eagerly awaiting the announcement of the awards. Before long, only the three trophy awards were left.
José looked around the room. Sure enough, almost everyone else on the team had received at least a certificate.
“Most improved player,” Coach announced from the lectern up front, “James Carelli.”
Everyone in the room applauded. José slapped James’s palm as the tall first baseman went to accept his trophy. José was glad he’d come, after all, to see his friends win their awards.
“Best athlete, Matthew Beckman.” The team cheered again. José whistled through his fingers as Matthew sprinted for the front.
“And now for our most valuable player.” Coach bent down and lifted the trophy over his head. Everyone oohed and aahed.
“This special award goes to the person who made the biggest contribution to our team. A player who could always be counted on to perform his best, especially in a pinch. As a coach, I don’t know what I would have done without him this season. We might have had to forfeit games if he hadn’t always been there. Except for the winner’s own vote, it was unanimous. Most valuable player for the Asteroids is José Valdez.”
The room went wild. All the players rushed over to slap José on the back.
He was so stunned that he couldn’t get out of his seat.
“C’mon, José,” Matthew said. “Stop warming the bench and go get your trophy.” Everyone laughed. Then the whole team escorted him up to the front.
MVP. José traced the engraved letters on the trophy that lay beside his pillow that night. He smiled, remembering Coach’s words on the way home: “José, I sure hope you’ll be our bench warmer again next year. We need you!”
José hugged the trophy close. In the dark he whispered his answer: “You can count on me, Coach.”

—Sitting on the front row (reserved for honor graduates), David Scott is so excited he almost bounces. David will be announced as the Outstanding Cadet in Social Science, and the asterix printed on the program indicates he is receiving both military and scholastic recognition. But his excitement isn’t due totally to his accomplishments. He’s thinking of tomorrow morning when he will be married for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.
“Jeri Willfong and I met when we had both just been assigned to the Eighth Squadron. We were sophomores. We talked once for about two hours when she was on detail answering the phones. Later, when the squadron was having a get-together at a melodrama, I asked her if she needed a ride. We started dating after that, and it wasn’t long before we started discussing the Church,” Dave explained.
Dave had become a member two years earlier while attending the preparatory school affiliated with the academy and was eager to share the gospel.
“But he wasn’t pushy,” Jeri said. “It was always me asking the questions, and he would just answer them. It took about six months before I got seriously interested.”
“After about a month I started praying to see if she was the right girl,” Dave said. “After about three weeks of praying, I got an answer that yes, she was. I didn’t know how it was going to work out, but I thought it would.”
While he was at Bergstrom Air Force Base outside Austin, Texas, for summer training, Dave got a call from Jeri. She had seen the examples of local member families and had talked to them extensively about the Church while Dave was gone. She had also attended church and received the missionary discussions.
“I’m going to be baptized the 15th of July,” she said.
As soon as Dave returned to the academy, he was sent to Argentina for additional training, so he missed the baptism. But Jeri continued to grow in testimony and activity, and soon the couple decided to make their relationship last forever. But because cadets aren’t allowed to marry until after graduation, they had to wait for Dave to finish school.
“I decided to leave the academy to prepare for marriage and to spend time with my family in Florida, helping them understand why I joined the Church,” Jeri explained. “Now both sets of parents will be here for our reception, and we’re going to have our bishop talk about temple marriage. It’s the first real exposure to the Church for our families.”

Raegan and Rylyn from Kentucky, USA, were grumpy, hungry, and tired. It had been a long day doing service with their family. But on the drive home they saw a sign on the side of the road that changed their attitude. It said, “Just Be Kind.”
“It made us less upset—and grateful we were able to serve,” Raegan says. “We started wondering if we could make signs like that,” Rylyn says.
After seeing the Just Be Kind sign, they had a home evening discussion with their family about being kind to their older sister Kendall, who had Down syndrome and was starting to get sick. Raegan and Rylyn decided to make their own Be Kind signs. “We thought it could help prevent bullying,” Raegan says.
They were also thinking about their other siblings, who each have Down syndrome too. Their older brother Kallen passed away as a baby, and they have two adopted siblings—Leena and Liam. “We wanted to raise awareness for kindness to them,” Rylyn says.

Imagine putting in that kind of time and effort for an entire year. That’s what Erin Johnson of the McLean Virginia Second Ward did. She got up close and personal with the Mormon pioneers so she could make a presentation for National History Day.
“I read 45 books for the project. I got some of the books from the library, and people loaned some of them to me. I also read journals from ancestors and relatives,” says Erin.
The work didn’t stop when Erin finished reading, though. She then put together a ten-minute dramatic presentation depicting the struggles the pioneers experienced as they crossed the plains.
During that ten minutes, Erin takes the audience through trials on the plains such as a mother burying her small child by the side of the trail, and then on to Utah, where the Saints set up an orderly, productive society.
“Each family member had a job on the trail, even the children,” says Erin in her presentation. She presents a short account of a pioneer child gathering buffalo chips to burn. She points out that everyone’s job was important on the trail—glamorous or not.
All her hard work paid off when Erin won third place in the Junior National competition, as well as a special award in her state division. High praise for a 12-year-old who had to prepare, set up, and perform her presentation with no help from anyone.
“I think it’s important to be well educated and work hard,” says Erin. “I also have a much greater appreciation for my ancestors and what they went through after doing this project.”
Erin says she now also appreciates her own family even more than she did before.
“They’ve helped me a lot,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without their support.”

Thirty-five years ago, my parents were also blinded and were desperately seeking to know the truth and were concerned about where to turn to find it. My parents were both born in the village, where the traditions were rooted in individuals’ and families’ lives. They both left their village when they were young and came to the city, looking for a better life.
They married and started their family in a very modest way. We were almost eight people in a small house—my parents, two of my sisters and I, and a cousin who used to live with us. I was wondering if we were truly a family, as we were not permitted to have dinner at the same table with our parents. When our dad returned from work, as soon as he entered the house, we were asked to leave and to go outside. Our nights were very short, as we could not sleep because of the lack of harmony and true love in our parents’ marriage. Our home was not only small in size, but it was a dark place. Before meeting with the missionaries, we attended different churches every Sunday. It was clear that our parents were seeking for something that the world could not provide.
This went on until we met with Elder and Sister Hutchings, the first senior missionary couple called to serve in Zaire (known today as DR of Congo or Congo-Kinshasa). When we started meeting with these wonderful missionaries, who were like angels that came from God, I noticed that something started to change in our family. After our baptism, we truly started to progressively have a new lifestyle because of the restored gospel. The words of Christ began to enlarge our souls. They began to enlighten our understanding and became delicious to us, as the truths that we received were discernible and we could see the light, and this light grew brighter and brighter daily.
This understanding of the why of the gospel was helping us to become more like the Savior. The size of our home did not change; neither did our social conditions. But I witnessed a change of heart in my parents as we prayed daily, morning and evening. We studied the Book of Mormon; we held family home evening; we truly became a family. Every Sunday we woke up at 6:00 a.m. to prepare to go to church, and we would travel for hours to attend Church meetings every week without complaining. It was a wonderful experience to witness. We, who had previously walked in darkness, chased darkness from among us (see Doctrine and Covenants 50:25) and saw “great light” (2 Nephi 19:2).

I really don’t know why I signed up for seminary in 11th grade. Ninth grade was easy enough to explain. My best friend, Mary, begged me. Her mother insisted that she attend, and Mary vowed she’d die of boredom if I didn’t go with her. We’d been practically inseparable from the time we were two, so I believed it was my duty to go with her.
Tenth grade was a little more difficult to explain. I registered for seminary with Mary—again because she had to. But her mom remarried before the school year started, and Mary moved to Nevada. That year, although I didn’t drop the seminary class, most of the time I didn’t attend. I wasn’t interested in what the seminary teacher had to offer, and I was lonely without Mary.
By default, I registered for seminary again when I was a junior, mostly because there were no other classes I wanted. So I went and sat in the back of the room, nestled by myself in the corner. Brother Hardy often tried to involve me in the discussions and scripture reading. Sometimes I participated, but most of the time I declined during our study of the Book of Mormon.
Every day Brother Hardy closed his lesson by bearing testimony to the truthfulness of the gospel. He seemed sincere enough in his beliefs, but each day I grew increasingly irritated at his word choice. He always said “I know.” But he couldn’t, I thought. He was wrong. He could feel, he could think, he could believe. But he could not know.
After class one day I decided to set him straight. He turned and smiled at me, and his eyes smiled too. “Sister Atwood, what can I help you with?” he asked.
“It’s about your word choice,” I said.
“Oh?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d say ‘I believe’ rather than ‘I know.’ You can’t know what you can’t see.” I turned to walk away, certain he’d choose his words more carefully from then on.
“Sister Atwood, wait!” he called out after me.
I stopped and looked at his gentle green eyes. Something about him drew me in, something in his gaze. “What?” I asked.
“Sister,” he said softly, “do you want to know?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “But no one can know what they can’t see.” I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t believe there was a God; I didn’t want to let him know how hopeless and bleak the world looked to me. “No one can know,” I mumbled again, and the conviction of that belief left me lost, lonely, and small.
Brother Hardy reached for a book on his table. “Have you ever read the Book of Mormon, Colleen?”
“No.”
“Do you have one at home?”
“No. I have a Bible. But I don’t read it anymore.”
“Here.” He held the book out to me. “This is yours. You keep it. Every night before you go to bed, kneel down and pray to your Heavenly Father. He’ll hear you. Even if you haven’t prayed to Him for a very long time. Ask Him to help you understand what is in this book. Remember, always pray before you read. Read it just like you would those good books I see you with. Read it as if the people in this book are speaking directly to you. Will you do that?”
I shrugged my shoulders and took the book from him. I didn’t want to take his book. But he was so kind I didn’t want to tell him no.
The next day Brother Hardy bore his testimony. And he said “I know” again. He didn’t understand after all. He watched me as I walked out the door that day. I could feel his eyes fixed on me even while he talked to the other students. I didn’t look back.
At home that night I picked up the book. I knew he’d ask me if I was reading it. I didn’t want to lie to him, so I thought about dropping the class as I set the book back on my nightstand.
For the next several days, I went to seminary, dreading the day he’d pull me aside. Although he always greeted me warmly, he never asked me if I’d been reading the book. I began to relax and decided to stay in the class. I even took my turn reading scriptures now and again. The days passed, and, as always, Brother Hardy bore his testimony. He looked me squarely in the eyes each time he said “I know.” Always the look was gentle, almost pleading.
One night, with nothing else to do, I picked up the Book of Mormon and turned the pages. I started reading Joseph Smith’s testimony. Then I remembered Brother Hardy’s instruction to pray first. So I crawled out of bed and knelt on the floor. “Help me to understand,” I asked simply. I finished Joseph’s testimony and the testimonies of the Three Witnesses. Night after night, I stayed with my plan. Pray then read. Let those in the Book of Mormon speak to me.
Soon the voices were real, and it seemed that Nephi was pleading with me because of the hardness of my heart. My appetite for the book became insatiable, and I read into the wee hours.
In 3 Nephi when Jesus Christ visited the American continent, I felt I was there with them, that I could see and feel the prints of the nails in His hands and feet. I cried. When the Nephites fell away and all but Moroni were slain, I wept again.
Then I read the promise found in Moroni 10:3–5. I put the bookmark in the book, closed it, climbed out of bed and knelt down to pray once again. “Heavenly Father,” I asked simply, “if it’s true, please help me to know and understand.” I closed my prayer and climbed back into bed, my eyes so full of tears that they blurred my vision.
I finished reading the Book of Mormon, then lay awake at the wonder of it. I knew—without seeing or touching—that the Book of Mormon was true. For the first time I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus were real. I knew Joseph Smith had seen God. And by the power of the Holy Ghost, with my spiritual eyes, I too saw Him.
The next day I sat on the front row in seminary. When Brother Hardy finished his lesson by saying “I know,” I said “amen.” He stopped me after class. “It’s been a while, Colleen. How are you coming with the reading?” he asked.
“Oh, I finished it,” I said.
“Good!” He clapped his hands together. “Good! And?”
I looked at the ceiling and shook my head. “And I know,” I choked. “I know.”
In the years since, I have often thought of Brother Hardy. I have wanted him to know that I married a returned missionary in the temple and that I have two fine sons who also will serve the Lord in the mission field. I have wanted Brother Hardy to know how his pebble rippled.

Edwin and Elsie were born in India. But Edwin first heard about the Church while going to school in the United States. He went to church there once. He even read the Book of Mormon. But when he got back to India, he forgot about the Church.
Some years later, Edwin and Elsie felt like they should move to Samoa. Edwin was a bug scientist, and he took a job on the island doing research. It was there that Edwin and Elsie met the missionaries. When Edwin read the Book of Mormon again, he felt something special. Elsie read the Book of Mormon too. They chose to be baptized, along with their sons and daughters.

President Hinckley, in a satellite broadcast last February, shared the story of a woman who became a member last year. She wrote:
“‘My journey into the Church was unique and quite challenging. This past year has been the hardest year that I have ever lived in my life. It has also been the most rewarding. As a new member, I continue to be challenged every day.’
“She goes on to say that when she joined the Church she did not feel support from the leadership in her ward. Her bishop seemed indifferent to her as a new member. Rebuffed, as she felt, she turned back to her mission president, who opened opportunities for her.
“She states that ‘Church members don’t know what it is like to be a new member of the Church. Therefore, it’s almost impossible for them to know how to support us’” (“Find the Lambs, Feed the Sheep,” Ensign, May 1999, 108).

I remember seeing pictures of the temple from the time I was very small. Though too young to understand the blessings of the temple, I knew I wanted to go there someday. In Young Women, I started to understand the blessings that would come from the temple. At that time my family was less active, and I prayed each day that we could be sealed as an eternal family.
In the fall of 1993, two weeks before I turned 18, my family did go to the temple. I remember the feeling I had in the Provo Utah Temple, becoming an eternal family with my parents and siblings. As I left the temple that day, I thought I understood the blessings it brought me.
Two years later, in the summer of 1995, I was engaged to be married, so I went to the temple to receive my own endowment. How wonderful to receive another blessing of the temple! Three days after receiving my endowment, I was sealed to my husband for time and all eternity in the Manti Utah Temple. I realized another blessing that I had not previously experienced—my husband and I could be an eternal family. Again I thought I had experienced all the blessings of the temple.
Six years into marriage, we found that we were expanding our family. We were so excited to raise our son and teach him the gospel. But 24 weeks into the pregnancy, our little boy was born fighting for life. After just eight weeks he returned to Heavenly Father. As I held him for the last time, I recognized yet another wonderful blessing of the temple: our son had been born in the covenant and could be ours forever.
Eighteen months after the passing of our son, we received a phone call from LDS Family Services saying that a young woman had chosen to place her baby with us. Knowing that we could not have more biological children, we could not have been more excited.
When our little girl was six months old, we finalized her adoption and took her to the temple to be sealed to us. Four years after our little girl became part of our family, another young woman chose us to be the parents of a sweet little boy. Again we had the blessing of taking a six-month-old to the temple. I will never forget how I felt when I saw my children, all in white, in the temple with my husband and me to be sealed to us for eternity.
I now realize that I did not understand all the blessings the temple could bring when I was in Young Women or when I was sealed to my husband or even when our son passed away. And even though I recognize many more blessings than I have in years past, I now understand that the temple is a place of eternal blessings, blessings that will come to us in this life and in eternity. Some we may realize easily today, and others will teach us, strengthen our testimonies, and help us someday to reach our eternal home.
The temple is a place of peace and comfort, joy and newness. I am more grateful than ever for the temple and pray that as I return there, I can continue to learn and appreciate the blessings of the temple.

Years ago when I was serving as a bishop, a recently converted family moved into our rural Utah community. These good people had joined the Church in the eastern United States and had been warmly fellowshipped and put to work in a small branch there. When they came to our larger, more-established ward, they somehow slipped through the cracks. Some of the family members, particularly the father, became disenchanted with the Church and its members.
One Sunday morning when I noticed the father was missing from priesthood meeting, I left the meetinghouse and drove to his home. He invited me in, and we had a very honest conversation about the struggle he was having with his new faith and neighbors. After exploring various possibilities for responding to his concerns, none of which seemed to appeal to him very much, I asked him with a tone of frustration in my voice just what we could do to help him. I’ve never forgotten his reply:
“Well, bishop,” he said (and I will need to paraphrase here slightly), “for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, please don’t assign me a friend.”
I learned a great lesson that day. No one wants to become a “project”; we all want spontaneously to be loved. And, if we are to have friends, we want them to be genuine and sincere, not “assigned.”

My father, Kurt, was a young boy in Poland during World War II. Often he felt hungry, cold, and frightened. Then something wonderful happened. His 10-year-old friend Otto Dreger invited him to go to Sunday School with members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In Sunday School, Kurt and Otto learned they were children of God. They sang songs. They learned to pray. Kurt loved the way he felt when he went to church: peaceful and happy. He asked his parents and his sister to go with him. Before long my father and his family were baptized. The gospel of Jesus Christ helped them feel brave through difficult times.

“You must have a personal conversion to the gospel, especially if you are going to share it with someone outside of the Church,” says Torfin Christensen, 18, of Kent, Washington.
Share your beliefs.
In the summer of 1991, Tor went to work for AnaMarie Hollenbach, a 72-year-old invalid confined to a wheelchair. He still does odd jobs around her house and brings her groceries in every Friday evening. He says, “At first, she was just curious about the Mormons, and we would talk about our beliefs with each other. Then a few months later, she asked for the missionary lessons. She accepted everything right down the line and gave up a lifelong habit of smoking.” On March 26, 1992, Tor baptized Sister Hollenbach.
As first assistant in the priests quorum of the Kent Third Ward, Kent Stake, Tor sees that Sister Hollenbach receives the sacrament in her home at least once a month since her health does not allow her to attend Church services on a regular basis.
Tor is working and saving money and hopes to be in the mission field by fall of this year. He says quietly but with conviction, “I believe the gospel. I live it. I’ve never experienced life without it, and I don’t ever want to.”
Live the gospel.
Here are a few more of the teachings of the gospel Tor lives by:
Service: His mother, Sherie Christensen, says, “Tor is keenly aware of the needs of others, and he is always doing something for someone. Here at home, if he sees something needs to be done he gets right after it without being asked or told.”
Scripture study: Tor graduated from seminary and continues to fit daily scripture study into his busy schedule. He feels that his seminary experience has given him a more thorough understanding of the gospel and has better prepared him for a mission.
Tithes: The first thing out of each paycheck is Tor’s tithing. He works at an apartment complex doing maintenance projects to earn money for his mission and personal needs.
Self-sufficiency: Tor worked to pay for a small truck he uses to help ease his own, as well as the family’s, transportation needs.

One pair of sensitive visiting teachers visited the young family of a recently graduated dental student. The family had, through self-sacrifice and stringent budgeting, endured the hard years of schooling required of the husband. As the sisters visited the mother the noticed that the soles of the shoes of the young children playing on the floor were completely worn through and would give scant protection to their little feet. This was confidentially reported to the Relief Society president, and the parents were persuaded to accept a little help until the young father could begin earning.

Of all the ways Relief Society furthers the welfare cause, its best effort comes as it helps individual sisters anticipate and meet their own needs, for welfare problems are most effectively solved before they become problems. Therefore, when you, the individual member, put into daily practice the principles of welfare, you are personally reducing the woe of the world. When you add to your home storage, particularly with goods you have produced by your hands, in your garden, with your needle, or in your kitchen, you are addressing welfare needs in the most effective way. When preventive health care, good nutrition, and financial management are practiced by you, the individual sister, the welfare system is working. When you teach your children how to work—when you, as members, and your children become educated and engage in appropriate employment and careers—future problems are averted.

The emotional support and strength that you Relief Society sisters can provide one another can be as important, or more so, than food or shelter. The husband of a sister recently lost his job. In relating the experience, she said the family was financially somewhat prepared, in that they had food storage and some money saved. But they were not prepared for the emotional shock of unemployment. The wife recalled that the single greatest help the family received to lessen the trauma of that experience was the love and sympathetic concern shown by the sisters of Relief Society.

In a Spiritual Living lesson a few years ago (1979–80, p. 42), we were told, “Fear that we haven’t enough energy, money, or other means can keep us from giving love.” We may think, “We can’t feed all the hungry, lodge all the homeless, nor comfort all who grieve … ; therefore, [we] will help no one.” (Ibid.) But Alma has told us that “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.” (Alma 37:6.)

One dollar given for a welfare assessment or a fast offering, one day of volunteer service, a visit (even without the loaf of bread), multiplied by a million and one-half members, can relieve much suffering.

Thus, though frontiers of welfare needs stretch before us different in scope from those of 1842, but similar too, the challenge for Relief Society today remains as then: to search out the poor, to minister to their wants, to prevent problems by learning, teaching, and practicing the principles of welfare. The Lord spoke plainly when he told Joseph Smith:
“And remember in all things the poor and the needy, the sick and the afflicted, for he that doeth not these things, the same is not my disciple.” (D&C 52:40.)
I ask it in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Once or twice a year the Wagners drove from their home in Evanston, Wyoming, to the Church Distribution Center in Salt Lake City. Every trip was full of alphabet games and Primary songs. Today’s trip was even more fun. Heidi’s sister, Amanda, was getting married soon, and the family planned to do some extra shopping. Between today’s games, they talked about the wedding, which was going to take place in the Salt Lake Temple.
Heidi loved to listen to her father and mother talk about the temple. “You can each set a goal to go to the temple,” Dad said. “Even Heidi, as young as she is, should make that one of her most important goals.”
“Every time I go to the temple, I feel Heavenly Father’s love and know that He will bless me and watch over me,” Mom added.
Heidi wasn’t completely sure that she understood everything that her parents were saying, but she knew that she wanted to go to the temple someday.
The Wagners visited the Distribution Center, then drove downtown. As they went past the temple, Heidi had goose bumps when she looked at the beautiful building.
After lunch they all went shopping. Dad and Daniel went to a sports store, and Heidi followed her mother and sister to a department store, where Amanda tried on dress after dress. Amanda will never pick one, Heidi thought. Tired and bored, she found a nearby nook and settled down on her coat. Soon she was asleep.
At first when she woke up, she didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered—shopping! She looked all over for her mother and sister. They were gone! She couldn’t even find a clerk to help her.
Heidi’s heart began to beat faster and faster. Her face felt hot, and she wanted to cry. Then something caught her attention. Was that her mother’s coat going down the escalator? “Mom,” she called, running toward it. But when she reached it and started down, the woman in the coat was gone.
As Heidi wandered through the store, she saw someone wearing a jacket like her sister’s. Heidi yelled, “Amanda,” but the person kept going and went out the large main doors. Heidi ran after her. She looked up and down the street but didn’t see anyone she recognized. Tears began to fill her eyes. Where was her family?
She looked at the people waiting for a traffic light to change to “Walk.” That’s when she saw the spires of the temple. She remembered her mother’s words, “Every time I go to the temple, I feel Heavenly Father’s love and know that He will bless me and watch over me.” That sounded like what she needed right now!
The light changed, and Heidi crossed the street with all the other people. A young man and woman, who were carrying little suitcases like her mom and dad did when they went to the temple, were going into Temple Square toward it, so she followed them. They went past flowers and trees and interesting buildings, one of which had a statue of Christ that Heidi wanted to see. She didn’t dare stop to explore now, though, but followed the young couple out of Temple Square and along the wall until they came to a tall, black, wrought-iron gate. The man turned as Heidi came through the gate behind them. “Hi,” he said. “Are you coming in here too?” He seemed surprised.
Heidi nodded, “I need to go to the temple.”
“What’s the matter?” asked the woman. “Are you lost?”
Tears again filled Heidi’s eyes, and she nodded again. “I need a big blessing, and Mom and Dad always said they get blessings by coming to the temple.”
The couple took Heidi through the gates and to the doors where a woman dressed in white came to help. She looked like Heidi’s grandma, and Heidi felt better. “She says she needs a temple blessing,” the man explained. “We think she’s lost.”
“You’re a little young to be coming to the temple alone, aren’t you?” The lady smiled and took Heidi’s hand, Heidi felt warm and safe. Turning to the couple, the older woman said, “She’ll be all right. You go ahead.”
The couple went down some stairs, and the lady took Heidi into a room near the door. She invited Heidi to sit on a chair. “I’m Sister Chumn,” she introduced herself.
“What’s your name?”
“Heidi Wagner.”
“And why is it that you came to the temple today?”
Tears built up again in Heidi’s eyes, but she tried to not cry. Sister Chumn picked her up and sat down with Heidi on her lap. “It’s all right. Just tell me, and we’ll see what we can do.”
“I got lost from my mommy. She told me that if I go to the temple, Heavenly Father will bless me.” Tears ran down Heidi’s cheeks. “I want my mommy.”
Sister Chumn smiled and hugged Heidi tightly.
“Where were you before you came to the temple?”
“Across the street, in a mall with lots of stores.”
Sister Chumn reached for the phone and dialed a number. After talking to someone for a minute, she hung up and turned back to Heidi. “That was a man who will find your family. I imagine that they’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’ll just sit here and wait until they come.”
When Heidi’s parents arrived, she ran to them. After long, happy hugs, her parents turned to Sister Chumn and thanked her, and Heidi gave her a big hug. “I’m so glad I came to the temple today. It’s a wonderful place!”
Sister Chumn smiled at Heidi. “When you get older, you come back and I’ll show you just how wonderful the temple really is. Your mommy is right—the temple does bring blessings from Heavenly Father, and today He blessed you and me and all of us.”

Heeding the call to gather to Zion, he and Martha emigrated to Utah in 1926. Martha found employment sewing men’s dress shirts at $7.50 a week, and Walter worked in a mattress manufacturing plant at $20 a week. In 1929 they founded the Stover Bedding and Mattress Company.
As his business flourished, Walter became known for his generosity and compassion. He gave freely of his worldly goods and of himself. He does not like these acts of kindness to be spoken of, but many burdens were lifted and many lives brightened by his caring.