Gospel Story Finder

Ward members made very effort to make Sage’s return from Galveston as smooth as possible. During a Sharing Time just before she returned, the Primary presidency held an activity to show the children that although people may be hurt or maimed, they are Heavenly Father’s children and need our help.
Nancy Eldridge, then Primary president, had a video tape made of Sage speaking to the children. On the tape Sage talked about her experience and hopes for the future. She closed by assuring her friends that she was still “the same old Sage.”
Nancy says that each of the children had to adjust to Sage in his or her own way. Her own son had a particularly difficult time. “He loved Sage, but he was afraid, and it bothered him. So he wrote her letters of love and friendship until he was able to work through his feelings.”

I was baptized on 17 November 1996 in Samara, Russia. Immediately after my baptism, I was filled with the desire to serve a full-time mission and bring souls to Jesus Christ. Eagerly I waited for a year to pass so I could talk to my branch president about a mission.
When the time came, I had the necessary interviews and filled out the missionary recommendation forms. Then I realized I had a problem. Although I had lived in Russia for two years, I was a citizen of Armenia. I had not yet served in the Armenian army, which I was obligated to do.
I began fasting and praying that God would open a way for me to serve a mission. In March 1998 I was drafted into the army and had to return to Armenia. I trusted in God, knowing that He loved me and wanted me to be obedient.
While I was in the Armenian army, I kept the covenants I had made and lived the Word of Wisdom. I often bore my testimony to the other soldiers, and I prayed throughout the day. I fasted and asked Heavenly Father to protect me. And I also asked that I might be able to serve a full-time mission as soon as possible.
After two and a half months in the army, I became ill and was admitted to the hospital. When the doctors examined me, I was surprised to learn I had a heart disease—an illness they believed I had had since childhood. It was now affecting my lungs, liver, and spleen. My body swelled, and I looked as if I had gained considerable weight.
The diagnosis meant I might be released from the army, but the reality of a serious illness scared me. All I could do was trust God to help me.
After I had been in the hospital for a month, an Armenian member of the Church, Brother Ararat, unexpectedly visited me there. He and two missionaries gave me a priesthood blessing.
Three weeks later I was released from the army. Before long I was feeling strong enough to serve a mission.
Now I needed my military release papers. I fasted and prayed. When I rose from my knees, I had my answer. I would rely on the Lord.
Days passed. Whenever I would inquire about my military papers, the officials would say, “Don’t expect them this year. It is not possible.” Still I trusted in the Lord and waited. Finally on 15 December I received word: “Come in and get your papers; they are ready.”
My next problem was getting a passport. The end of the year is a difficult time to secure one, and I was told I could not expect a passport until June. Again I prayed. And again I felt inspired to be patient and rely on the Lord.
And so I trusted, believed, and waited—but not for too long. On 5 January 1999, I received my passport, and on 7 January, my visa. I could begin my missionary service.
All I needed to do now was complete my interviews, finish some paperwork, and receive the required medical examination. Although I felt well, I feared that my heart disease might prevent me from serving. The doctor who examined me knew my medical history and ordered a test of my heart. When he looked at the results, he blurted out in surprise, “You are completely healthy! There is no sign of heart disease. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life!”
I smiled and said, “I believe in God. I received a blessing from bearers of His priesthood and was healed.”
Soon I was called to serve in the Russia Moscow South Mission. I know God lives. I know He performs miracles now just as He did anciently. And I know He blesses us when we exercise faith in Him.

By noon, the Columbia Ward was headed back from Nashville. But instead of going straight home, they took a detour to Lawrenceburg. The youth there wanted to return the favor of being invited to the hayride, so they had invited Columbia to a late afternoon picnic. While everyone was gathering at the chapel, the Lawrenceburg youth shared some of their thoughts about being a Latter-day Saint in Tennessee.

Paula McGuire, 15, talked about the closeness she feels in her ward and between the two wards.

“I love to be with the youth of the Church,” she said. “Other kids at school see us and think we’re strange to be so close. But in the Church you do seem closer. We really are like brothers and sisters.”

Regina Luker, 16, the Laurel president, told about her efforts to tell an atheist friend about the gospel. “It’s hard to get her to believe in the Lord,” she said. “But I obey the commandments, and I try to be a good example. We need to show we can be trusted.”

And Paul McDow spoke again, this time about teaching a lesson about the Church in his history class at school, about reading the scriptures, about saving money for a mission, and about living in the hills of Tennessee.

“I love it,” he said. “I couldn’t live anywhere else. The only thing that would make it better would be if there were more Church members.”

The youth from Lawrenceburg took the youth from Columbia on a quick tour of their town, then over to Davy Crockett State Park, where they ate fruit, sandwiches, and cookies. There was a short program, featuring Paul dressed up like a frog, “Davy Croak-it”; and by the time the sun set, the two groups went their separate ways, promising to get together again soon.

He would almost certainly recall a defining experience from his missionary days. Young Elder Hinckley had dealt with poor health and intense opposition when he arrived in Preston. He wrote his father that he was wasting both time and money. A short letter came by return mail: “Dear Gordon, I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: forget yourself and go to work.” Says President Hinckley: “With my father’s letter in hand, I … got on my knees and made a pledge with the Lord. I covenanted that I would try to forget myself and lose myself in His service.
“That July day in 1933 was my day of decision. A new light came into my life and a new joy into my heart. The fog of England seemed to lift.”

When I was young, I hated waiting for morning. I would get so excited and impatient about what the next day had to offer that I spent many nights tossing and turning in my bed, slipping in and out of sleep and taking frequent trips to the window, letting out a disappointed sigh every time I realized it was still dark outside. To me, morning always took forever to come.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, I would go ask my parents what time it was. They would reassure me that morning would come. I always slept better after that.
Waiting for promised blessings can sometimes feel like that. We offer sincere prayers, read our scriptures, and feel those warm feelings of assurance. But then if our circumstances don’t change immediately—if answers or blessings don’t come right away—we can start to doubt that they ever will.
From experience, I have learned that doubts often stem from focusing on circumstances rather than on the Savior and His love for us.
The more we magnify our circumstances and our hopelessness about what doesn’t seem to be working out for us yet, the less we realize that the Savior loves us and is with us as we take each step forward. Satan knows this, which is why he plants little doubts in our minds to make us question the Savior’s love for us, our eternal worth, and how much we matter to Heavenly Father.
Waiting is part of life. And waiting on the Lord’s answers and blessings and promises can sometimes feel unbearable. But there are a few things we can do to wait for blessings without giving in to doubts:
First, we can look back at those moments when we did receive answers or impressions. Remember those feelings of warmth or joy that whispered peace to your heart and mind. Those feelings and answers were from God. Passing time doesn’t change those truths and promises. We can follow apostolic counsel to “embrace your sacred memories. Believe them. Write them down. … Trust that they come to you from your Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son. Let them bring patience to your doubts and understanding to your difficulties.”1 By focusing on the Spirit and those things we know to be true, our doubts will fall out of focus. And we can have the confidence we need to move forward with hope.
Second, we need to remember that to receive personal revelation, we need to be willing to proceed with an eye of faith despite not having a perfect knowledge. Just like I always had to wait for morning to come, we can realize that even as we wait for promised blessings, there is preparation to do, small steps to take, and knowledge to gain in the meantime. As we wait, we can continue learning and striving to be worthy of the blessings in store for us.
Finally, we can keep an eternal perspective, bearing in mind that “some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don’t come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come,” as Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught.2 “God expects you to have enough faith and determination and enough trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing.”3 The Lord’s blessings always come, just like the sunrise each morning. Look to eternity instead of tomorrow.
In times of doubt when we feel like we are in a dark room without heaven’s light, let us remember that the Savior’s arms are always outstretched toward us, eagerly waiting for us to reach out to Him. He will reassure us of His love for us, just like my parents did whenever I was worried that morning would never come.
As we make the Savior our primary focus, waiting for promised blessings and answers becomes less tedious. The wait becomes a time of worthwhile learning and preparation. We can learn how to focus on Heavenly Father’s will and not our own. We can come to know with certainty that He loves us and will come through for us every time. And that certainty will defeat all doubt and darkness. Morning will always come, and so will His promises.

Just before our esteemed, honored Apostle and special friend of Aaronic Priesthood and their leaders worldwide, Elder Bruce R. McConkie, passed away nearly four and one-half years ago, with his sweetheart and eternal companion, Amelia, at his bedside, some very significant words were shared. As Sister McConkie held his hand during his final earthly minutes, she asked, “Bruce, do you have a message for me?” Though weak and expiring, he responded in a firm voice his last words, “Carry on.”
Here was one of God’s choicest servants, who had studied, pondered, and written as extensively on the life and mission of Jesus Christ as anyone else in his time, using these two powerful words for direction and encouragement. Sister McConkie has since shared with me the great importance and strength of “carry on” as time has passed. Elder McConkie knew as a special witness the importance of, “Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on him, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed;
“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:31–32.) Salvation and exaltation are here emphasized as being based primarily upon commitment and enduring.

I am a member of the Church because of a five-year-old missionary.
When I was young, my mother was searching for a church that could answer all her questions. As a result, we attended a different church each week. Eventually Mom became frustrated because every religion contradicted the others and none of them satisfied her. Finally she gave up.
My best friend at the time was a girl named Sandy Guthrie. We played together nearly every day. One Saturday evening she asked me if I would like to attend Sunday School with her the next day. I asked her which church she belonged to, thinking that I had visited them all. She told me that it was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, often called the Mormon Church—a new one to me. I decided it was the church for me because my last name is Moore and I thought she said “Moore-man Church.”
I agreed to go, but I had to ask Mom. Unfortunately, she said she had other plans that Sunday.
The next week, Sandy invited me again, and once again I asked Mom. She had another excuse, and I wasn’t allowed to go.
Being a good missionary, Sandy didn’t give up. She suggested that on Sunday morning I get up and get ready by myself before asking my mother if I could go. I thought it was a great idea. If Mom didn’t have to make a special effort to get me ready, she might be more willing to let me go.
On Sunday morning, I put on my best clothes and woke Mom up. This time she flatly refused. She offered no excuse and left no room for bargaining. She simply said no. So I did what most five-year-olds would have done. I cried.
I suppose the tears and my steadfast dedication touched my mother, because she agreed to let me go on the condition that she go with me.
Mom called Sandy’s mom to make arrangements, and we attended church with them that morning. Mom felt the Spirit so strongly that she knew immediately we had found the true Church. That evening she took the first discussion from the missionaries and agreed to be baptized.
More than twenty years have passed since then. When I tell my own two children this story, I draw a chart showing everyone who joined the Church because Sandy invited a friend to Sunday School. There are well over a hundred people on the chart. Many of them not only accepted the gospel but in turn served missions and brought others to the knowledge of the truth. I, myself, have served a mission. The chart proves that one child’s dedication to sharing the gospel can bless the lives of many people.
I don’t know how many others Sandy invited to church or how large her complete chart might be. I do know that I owe her more than I can say. I only hope that she realizes how much her faithfulness has meant to me, my family, and all the others touched indirectly by her missionary work. I know I can’t repay her, but I’ve made a goal to share the gospel whenever and wherever possible—just in case I meet another family like mine, waiting for the truth.

While in high school in Alberta, Canada, I went to watch our junior and senior football teams play back-to-back games in the city playoffs. The games were in late October, and it was very cold. I had applied a number of thick layers of clothes, but I became very cold into the second game. I was so cold that I was shivering.
The people behind me noticed I was cold and offered a hot drink of coffee from their thermos. I was tempted as I saw the steam coming off the thermos and thought how good it would feel to warm my insides. It would only be one drink, and no one would know. Then I thought of my parents and teachers who had steered me straight and trained me to prepare for this situation. I could remember the lessons in family home evening, Sunday School, priesthood meetings, and seminary that taught me how freedom is gained by obeying our Father’s commandments.
As the cup was being poured, I remembered previous mistakes, and the result of those mistakes on my life. I resolved to do the right thing. I thanked them for their offer but refused the coffee. As I walked home after the games, my heart felt light. I now understood better than ever the freedom gained from obedience to the commandments and what my parents, teachers, and the general authorities were trying so hard to teach me.

At the end of eighth grade, I was having a really hard time. It seemed like nothing was going my way.
I never saw my mom. She worked a night shift and took care of my aunt who was dying of cancer. My dad had died a year earlier. I felt very lost and alone, like I had no friends or family to comfort me. At school I was quiet and didn’t open up much. I quit hanging out with my friends. At the time, I didn’t think I was acting that differently. I tried to be myself and be as happy as I could. Now I look back and realize I was feeling down and falling even further.
A friend who I had just started hanging out with had a very strong testimony. She was in one of my classes, and one day, out of nowhere, she handed me a letter. In it, she described her hardships and expressed her testimony, which was one of the strongest testimonies I had ever read.
At the end of the letter there was the scripture, John 14:18: “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”
I felt as though God was telling me through my friend that I was not alone, even though I felt as though I had no friends or family. Now I know I will never be alone because I can go to my Heavenly Father through prayer. He will always be there.

Feeling the influence of the Spirit is what the gospel means to many members in Otavalo—people like Lauro Yamverla and his wife, Lucila. In the beginning, he made it hard for the missionaries to teach him, Brother Yamverla recalls. But when the Spirit bore witness that their message was true, “I set a goal that if I was going to be baptized, I was going to follow the gospel’s teachings strictly.” When he began closing his grocery store on Sundays, he worried at first about losing business, but it actually got better.
Brother and Sister Yamverla have been deeply involved in service since they came into the Church. As ward Relief Society president, Sister Yamverla is concerned with helping sisters in her area learn practical things, such as cooking and other basic homemaking skills. But even more important is teaching them “to convey the love of Christ to others.”

Ouch! Have you ever been caught by a jumping cactus? Cholla cactus segments “jump” off to stick to your clothes, skin, or whatever else they can get their spiny claws into.
The LDS youth of New Mexico know how difficult it is to detach themselves from a prickly cactus. They got some extra practice though, as they cleaned the temple site in preparation for the Albuquerque Temple groundbreaking. Armed with shovels, rakes, and gloves, youth from four stakes assembled on a hot Saturday morning to rid the property of sagebrush, garbage, and cholla, so the weeds could be mowed and the ground would be safe to walk on for those attending the groundbreaking.
“It was hard work, but it was totally worth it for the temple to come,” says Robyn Sampson, 15.
Before the temple plans were approved, the youth fasted and prayed for a solution to the problems the temple’s project manager faced when he presented the plans to city officials. Now they say they are fasting and praying for the temple builders. But the prayers and the cleanup are only part of the work the young people of Albuquerque are doing in preparation for the temple. They are also working to make certain their own lives are clean.
Despite the burrs on their socks and an occasional scare from a snake or lizard, the Albuquerque youth succeeded in clearing the future temple site of every spiny cactus and broken bottle in sight. It might seem strange, but the youth actually enjoyed pulling cactuses and loading trucks full of sagebrush.
“We’re just so happy we will have a temple here. We thought it would never happen,” says Rosalie Campbell, 12.
Amber Chee, 17, looks forward to doing baptisms for the dead and getting married in the Albuquerque Temple someday. “It was really fun coming here. I felt the Spirit,” she says.
Both Rosalie and Amber have been to the temple to do baptisms for the dead before, but opportunities for trips to out-of-state temples come only once a year for the Albuquerque youth. They have to travel for at least eight hours to get to a temple in Denver, Colorado, or Mesa, Arizona, so they can do baptisms for the dead.
“Temples were always a faraway thing,” says Neil Peterson. As 16-year-old Neil wipes his brow, he says he enjoys helping out with something so important, even if it’s hard work.
Michelle Williams, besides concentrating on the cactus plants, was also thinking about what it will mean to have a temple in her area and about why she was cleaning up the temple site. “It’s very symbolic,” she says. “You have to be clean yourself to go to the temple.”
Logan King just turned in his mission papers and is waiting for his call. He won’t be able to go to the Albuquerque Temple before his mission, but he realizes the importance of having a temple close by and being worthy to attend it. “We need to clean all the cactuses out of our lives before we can go to the temple,” he says.
Researching family history is another way the Albuquerque youth are preparing for the temple. Many of them are more excited about doing family history now since they will soon have a temple in their area. Albuquerque’s Family History Center missionaries, Sister Wilcox and Sister Hatfield, say the temple will really strengthen the youth. Sister Wilcox says with the large number of young people in the area, there’s a “big push for genealogy.”
Sarah Sego, 17, loves doing baptisms for the dead and can’t wait for the temple to be built so she can continue to do baptisms. “I know it’s the right thing to do, because all those people are waiting,” she says.
Sarah is also helping others to learn more about why she loves going to the temple so much. She tells her friends about the temple and even tactfully shared her testimony of temple work with her high school current events class.
Sarah is not alone in her missionary efforts. Many Church members are having more and more opportunities to explain the gospel to others because of the temple.
“I think the temple will make people notice us more,” says Lisa Willis, 14, who also says she’s been telling her friends all about the temple. “The best part [of building a temple] is having people ask about it.”
Albuquerque’s full-time missionaries were also at the cleanup working hard. They say members in the area feel the temple will bring many blessings to them and to all the people of Albuquerque.
“While tracting, we stopped by a house and a woman opened the door and said, ‘Hey, I heard you guys are building one of those temples.’ That allowed us to get in the door and talk to her about the Church,” says Elder Moyer, from California. Many of the missionaries had similar stories.
The temple will actually be built in a valley where it can still be seen from faraway. In fact, it’s the same valley the Mormon Battalion came through on its famous march from the Missouri River to California. Coincidentally, the number of youth at the cleanup was about the same as the number of men who were in the Mormon Battalion.
At the groundbreaking ceremony, many young people who had been at the cleanup also sang in the youth chorus. The strains of “High on the Mountain Top” and “Holy Temples on Mount Zion” rang out over the crowd of thousands which gathered to see the temple ground dedicated.
“We all joined together to celebrate our temple,” says Tyler Lindsey, 16. “I knew that it was right and the ground was holy. I don’t know if we sounded good, but the Spirit was there.”
The Spirit is there. The spirit of service, of missionary work, and of love can be felt strongly in Albuquerque. Whether pulling cactuses or doing baptisms for the dead, the youth of Albuquerque are carrying out the Lord’s work with His Spirit to help them. The youth don’t know all the ways the temple will continue to change their lives, but they are looking forward to that day in the year 2000 when they can visit the Lord’s house in their own city.

I watched Jason dribble the ball down the court, weaving around two players from the other team while I tried to outrun the one guarding me. Jason leaped toward the side of the basket and shot. The ball teetered on the rim for a second before it dropped through the net.
“Go, Jason, go!” cheered a crowd of little kids. I should have felt happy because our team, the Jets, had finally tied the score. But I didn’t want to hear Jason’s name anymore. He always scored the most points and caught the most rebounds—and got the most cheers.
The big red numbers on the clock showed only one minute left in the game when Dave passed the ball to me. The court was clear. I dribbled the ball down the sideline, the sound of thundering footsteps close behind. I jumped as high as I could and shot, trying to bounce the ball off the backboard and into the net. It hit the rim and bounced off. So who caught the rebound? Jason. Who scored the winning basket? Jason.
It wasn’t easy being in the same fifth-grade class and on the same basketball team as a superstar. All the second and third graders knew Jason. They ran up to him on the playground and crowded around him like a fan club. I’d be famous, too, if I scored 15 points a game. Secretly I wished Jason would disappear. Then one day he did!
“Jason has to have his tonsils out,” Mrs. Litten told our class. “He’s going to be out of school for at least a week.”
Dave groaned. “Now we’re going to get trampled by the Kings,” he whispered to me loudly. “Our team will never win without Jason.”
“Maybe,” I whispered back. Mrs. Litten gave me a look that said, “Be quiet and do your work.” I tried to concentrate on my spelling words, but I kept thinking that maybe I’d finally have a chance to be the star. Maybe now the kids would shout, “Go, Taylor!”
Basketball practice was a disaster, however. I practiced shooting from the free-throw line, and only one ball swished through. And when I tried dribbling fast, I tripped over the ball. But I didn’t give up. I started practicing my free throws again. It wasn’t going to be easy to be famous.
On Wednesday, Mrs. Litten asked me to stay after class, and I wondered what I’d done wrong.
“Taylor, I have a favor to ask.”
“Yes?” I was curious now.
“Would you fill in for Jason tomorrow and Friday? He goes to the second-grade classes after lunch to help them with their schoolwork. They’re missing him.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Litten smiled. “You’re a good student.”
“Sure.” But I wondered what I was getting myself into.
The next day I walked into a second-grade class after gulping down my sandwich. When I saw all those faces staring at me, I was nervous. The teacher introduced me and told them that I played basketball with Jason. Suddenly everyone was asking me questions, and the time passed quickly.
Right before I left, little Angelica gave me a hug. “Tell me your name again,” she said.
“Taylor,” I repeated for the zillionth time—but I didn’t mind one bit. In fact, I felt fantastic!
“I need to know your name so I can cheer for you,” Angelica told me. “Just like for Jason.”
That’s when I figured it out. All the kids knew Jason because he helped them. It really had little to do with basketball! I thought that over.
That afternoon I had my own little cheering section at the game. I started grinning, but I wasn’t thinking about being famous. Instead, I was planning to bring some dinosaur stickers for Robby and a book about kittens to show Angelica. I planned to tell Mrs. Litten that I wanted to keep volunteering, even when Jason came back.
“Go, Taylor!” shouted Angelica, and I was glad I’d learned that some things are much better than being a basketball superstar!

“I grew up in the city, but each summer I stayed with a farmer in our branch for two or three weeks, and I learned to enjoy farming. One day while we were working in a field and the cows needed to be brought up the hill to pasture, the farmer said, ‘I’ll take the wagon down to get the cows.’ I asked, ‘Can I do that?’ He replied, ‘Do you think that you can do it?’ I was small for my age, but I was happy that he thought that I could do the job.”

“Hans, Mein sohn, was machst du da?”
“Vater, Ich studiere.”
“Hans, Mein Sohn, das kannst du nicht.”
“Vater, Ich probiere.”
“Hans, my son, what are you doing?”
“Father, I’m studying.”
“Hans, my son, that you cannot.”
“Father, I am trying.”

“That was one of the first readings that I learned in school. Because it included my first name, Hans, it was very meaningful to me then, and it still is. I’m still trying today.”

As we faithfully seek information about ancestors with the purpose of performing temple ordinances, we’ll be exposed to events and impressions that will perceptibly show the Lord’s hand in this work. During the 1960s my wife’s grandfather, who served as a branch president in the southernmost part of Brazil, had collected many ancestors’ names, which were all in paper documents as there were no computers then. He was afraid that one of his 16 children would damage or lose those precious records, so he decided to keep them in his branch presidency’s office at the local chapel. But one day that meetinghouse was caught on fire and he lost all his family history. Years of work vanished in minutes! He and his family were deeply saddened but felt impressed to visit his relatives in Argentina in an attempt to recover some of the lost information. During those visits he was describing what happened and one of his uncles (who was not a member of the Church) asked to be excused for a moment and then came right back from another room with a stack of papers full of names, dates, and documents concerning all those that had been lost in the fire. For years, he said, “I felt compelled to keep this information without knowing why, but now it all makes sense. You can have all this!!”
Not only were all the names recovered but also many new ones were added. This event has caused all in the family to clearly discern that there was direct guidance from the Holy Ghost and that God knows the end from the beginning!

First, let me tell you an experience related by Emma Rae McKay, wife of President David O. McKay:
“Last summer on reaching Los Angeles, we decided to have our car washed by one of those ‘Quickies’ on Wilshire Boulevard.
“As I was watching the last part of the operation from a bench, to my surprise a tiny voice at my elbow said, ‘I guess that man over there loves you.’
“I turned and saw a beautiful little curly-haired child with great brown eyes who looked to be about seven years of age.
“‘What did you say?’ I asked.
“‘I said, I guess that man over there loves you.’
“‘Oh, yes, he loves me; he is my husband. But why do you ask?’
“A tender smile lighted up his face and his voice softened as he said, ‘Cuz, the way he smiled at you. Do you know I’d give anything in this world if my pop would smile at my mom that way.’
“‘Oh, I’m sorry if he doesn’t.’
“‘I guess you’re not going to get a divorce,’ he [questioned me].
“‘No, of course not; we’ve been married over fifty years. Why do you ask that?’
“‘Cuz everybody gets a divorce around here. My pop is getting a divorce from my mom, and I love my pop and I love my mom. …
“His voice broke and tears welled up in his eyes, but he was too much of a little man to let them fall.
“‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!’
“And then he came very close and whispered confidentially into my ear, ‘You’d better hurry out of this place or you’ll be getting a divorce too!’” (The Savior the Priesthood and You, Melchizedek Priesthood Manual, 1973–74, p. 207.)

Not long ago, 10-year-old Eliza from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, gave a talk in sacrament meeting about one way that focusing on Sabbath-appropriate activities has blessed her life. Because Eliza sometimes struggled with boredom on Sundays, she and her family decided that indexing would be a good activity to try. Eliza soon discovered that she loved working with the names and records. “When I start, I just want to keep doing it forever,” she shared with the congregation.

When Eliza’s great-grandma heard how much she enjoyed family history, she taught Eliza how to add stories and pictures to their family tree online. “It is so much fun, I love it!” Eliza said. “When I do family history work, I feel the spirit of Elijah. It is an awesome feeling.”

Some of those involved in the project were able to submit names for family members who had researched names but had not submitted them for temple work. For Amanda Gardner of the Pioneer Ward, researching names helped draw her closer to family members. She helped her grandparents, Allen and Helga Willie, submit names they had been researching for 30 years. Her other grandfather, Sterling Gardner, helped her friend research names. Amanda says, “One of my good friends had no names to submit, so she came to my grandpa and he helped her find about 175 names. At first she was like, ‘Oh, they’re just names on paper.’ But I realized they’re not just names on paper; they’re family members.”

When I was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood, the member of the bishopric who advised the deacons quorum came into our quorum meeting the Sunday before Thanksgiving and said, “I hope we won’t have one family of this quorum who won’t kneel down in family prayer and have a blessing on the food this Thanksgiving.” It was 1943, and our country was engaged in World War II. We discussed our need for a divine blessing for those who were in military service and for all the other difficulties we as a nation were facing. We also talked about the blessings we each enjoyed. Then we were again encouraged to have family prayer.
A heavy cloud settled on my heart. I didn’t know how my family could have family prayer. My father had a drinking problem, and my mother was not a member of the Church at that time. We had never had a prayer in our home, not even a blessing on the food. After quorum meeting I continued to consider the challenge, and finally concluded we would not be able to have prayer.
That evening at sacrament meeting the bishop stood up at the close of the meeting and said, “Brothers and sisters, Thursday is Thanksgiving. I hope we will not have one family in the ward that will not kneel in family prayer. We ought to express our gratitude for the great goodness of our Heavenly Father to us.” And then he enumerated some of our many blessings.
Again it seemed as if my soul were filled with an enormous gloom. I tried to figure out a way our family could have prayer. I thought about it Monday, and again on Tuesday, and on Wednesday. On Wednesday evening my father did not return home from work at the normal hour, and I knew from experience that, because it was payday, he was satisfying his thirst for alcohol. When he finally came at two in the morning quite an argument ensued. I lay in bed wondering how we could ever have prayer with that kind of contention in our home.
On Thanksgiving morning, we did not eat breakfast so we could eat more dinner. My four brothers and I went out to play with some neighbor boys. We decided to dig a hole and make a trench to it and cover it over as a clubhouse. We dug a deep hole, and with every shovelful of dirt I threw out of the hole I thought about family prayer for Thanksgiving. I wondered if I would have enough courage to suggest to my parents that we have a prayer, but I was afraid I would not. I wondered if my older brother, who has always been an ideal in my life, would suggest it, since he had been in the same sacrament meeting and had heard the bishop’s suggestion.
Finally, at about two-thirty in the afternoon, Mother told us to come get cleaned up for dinner. Then we sat down at the big round oak table. Dad sat down with us silently—he and Mother were not speaking to each other. As she brought in the platter with the beautiful golden brown turkey, my young heart was about to burst. I thought, Now please, won’t someone suggest we have a family prayer? I thought the words over and over, but they wouldn’t come out. I turned and looked at my older brother, praying desperately that he would suggest prayer. The bowls of delicious food were being passed around the table; plates were being filled; and time and opportunity were passing. I knew that if someone did not act immediately, it would be too late. Then suddenly, as always, everyone just started eating.
My heart sank, and despair filled my soul. Although I had worked up a great appetite, and Mother was a marvelous cook, I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to pray.
I resolved that day that no son or daughter of mine would ever want to pray and not be able to do it because of shyness or lack of courage. In our family we have family prayers, personal prayers, and blessings on every meal. As one who has known the contrast between families that do not pray and those that do, I know the value of prayer in the home and in the life of every child and youth in the Church. What a blessing it is for us to know that our private, individual prayers are heard and answered by a kind, wise, loving Heavenly Father, and that we can take our problems—no matter how simplistic they may be—to him in prayer!

I surely enjoy the New Era. I just finished reading “LDS Women on the Arizona Frontier” in the April issue and enjoyed it particularly. I’m writing especially, however, to comment about two backpacks I just made from instructions given in the May 1973 issue. I know that’s an old issue, but when a magazine is good enough to be kept around for years for reference, it never really gets old. The second pack went smoothly because, like so many things, it’s easy once you know how. The first pack, however, was very, very frustrating due to the poor instructions in the article. I found the instructions misleading and unclear, and I was only able to finish the pack by guessing what was meant.
It was billed as something anyone who could sew straight seams could sew in three hours. I consider myself an accomplished seamstress, but it took me six hours to figure it out. When I finished, my pack didn’t look like the one in the picture, because neither the picture nor the pattern was drawn to scale. For example, the front pouch is pictured as occupying about two-thirds of the front of the pack, when in reality it is so large it overlaps onto the bottom of the pack. I think more emphasis should have been placed on having clear 1-2-3-type instructions rather than on being interesting reading. I think similar articles should be checked more thoroughly in the future to make sure they aren’t some of those “it’s easy if you know how” kind.

Artur Tomaszewski could defend himself if the need arose. After all, he was the national jujitsu champion in his native Poland at age 17. But he believes the wisest course is always to seek peace first. That is what he was doing, in a way, when he won his greatest battle—the struggle to find truth.
As a young boy, Artur had studied the Bible and formed questions about his relationship to God and about God’s true Church. No one had answers to satisfy him. Finally, he prayed to God to show him which church was true.
Does this story sound familiar?
Both the answer Artur received and the way it came surprised him.
As a youth, he says, “I liked to study about different religions.” His study convinced him that the Church of Jesus Christ ought to be on the earth. Yet he could not find one that seemed to meet biblical criteria. He was even tempted at one point to wonder if God really existed, but the faith that lived inside him overcame that doubt. He knew that if anyone could provide answers, it would be God. There came a time when he was 18 that Artur prayed, specifically asking to be led to the true Church.
Not long afterward, while he was visiting at the home of his aunt, he saw a dusty book sitting on a shelf. It was titled the Book of Mormon. His aunt had received it from some sister missionaries, then had laid it aside and forgotten it.
Artur picked it up and put it back down three times, struggling over whether to read it. No, he would not; he believed only in the Bible. But this book said it was another testament of Jesus Christ. No, this Joseph Smith story at the beginning was too fantastic. But what if it was true? No, the story in the first 20 pages of the book was simply foreign to all he knew.
Still, what he had read stayed with him all week long. When he returned to his aunt’s house, planning to resume reading where he had left off, the book was gone!
It would be some time before Artur received his own copy of the Book of Mormon.
He introduced himself to missionaries on the street in Katowice. When they did not call him immediately as promised (this is a mistake Elder Tomaszewski the missionary does not make now), he decided to seek them out on a Sunday morning at the meetinghouse address on a flyer they had given him.
It happened to be a fast Sunday, and as members bore their testimonies, Artur felt the same feeling of peace and surety that had stayed with him after his first reading in the Book of Mormon. The feeling was so strong that he wanted to stand and bear his own testimony that the book was true, but he did not know if this would be permitted.
When the missionaries finally gave him his own copy of the Book of Mormon, they asked him solemnly if he would promise to read it and pray for an answer about its truthfulness. Artur laughed. He already knew he could get an answer from God.
He read and he prayed. The answer that came was so strong it seemed to be not only a feeling, but also “like light to my eyes,” giving great clarity to the truths he already knew from the Bible. He laughed out loud once more, wondering if the answer about the Church of Jesus Christ could really be this “clear and simple.” He had thought it might be some complicated thing. He prayed again to be sure and received the same strong answer, assuring him that God’s truths are plain, not complicated.
“When I found out it was true, I went home full of joy,” he recalls. But no one wanted to share the joy. His mother and two younger brothers were not interested. His father was antagonistic. After Artur’s baptism in 2002, he had almost no support from friends and acquaintances either, except within his branch.
Religious tradition is very strong in Poland. No one could understand why he wanted to leave the dominant faith. Still, he says, his parents’ teaching and example were very valuable in preparing him to find the truth. “I’m grateful they did what they knew how to do in teaching me.”
Being alone in living the gospel did not break down his faith. When he determined to serve a mission, he was willing to give up the jujitsu practices and competitions he loved—something that had been part of his life from childhood—to work and save money for a mission. Jujitsu, he says, was an art form for him. “I felt like a painter painting a picture when I practiced.” But working left him no time to practice.
Before leaving his hometown of Mystowice to serve as a missionary, Elder Tomaszewski left a challenge for his younger brother Patryk, who was also deeply involved in jujitsu. “If you want to find out why I’m doing this, why I’m giving up my sport, read the Book of Mormon and pray about it.”
Elder Tomaszewski says some of the qualities developed through the discipline of jujitsu have been helpful in the mission field: patience, humility, and the capacity for hard work.
What does he like most about missionary work?
“Often when I’m really tired, when I feel like I don’t have any strength left and maybe I’m lacking a little in faith, we knock on a door and find someone,” he says. Finding someone who wants to listen sometimes makes him so excited he can’t sleep.
And what has been his best day as a missionary?
The day he learned that his younger brother had taken his challenge to read and pray about the Book of Mormon. Patryk Tomaszewski also received a testimony. He was baptized in August 2004.
Now there are two Tomaszewskis to share the joy of the gospel.