Gospel Story Finder

This story happened in the USA.
Carlos frowned at himself in the bathroom mirror. His face and arms were bright pink. His sunburn was worse than he thought. And he had lots of itchy bug bites on his arms and legs. Hiking with his Primary class was fun, but now his skin hurt all over!
Carlos looked at his backpack on the floor. The sunscreen and bug spray Mom had packed were still inside. He should have used them like she told him to. But he thought he didn’t need them.
Carlos opened the cabinet and found the little bottle his mom always used for sunburns. He rubbed the gel on his face. It felt cool on his hot skin.
Next Carlos put the gel on his arms. But he couldn’t find the bug-bite cream. Soon he gave up. He needed help. He would have to talk to Mom.
He found her in the kitchen. When she saw his sunburned face, she looked worried. Carlos thought she would get mad at him for not wearing sunscreen. But she didn’t.
“Are you OK?” she asked. “That must really hurt.”
“Yeah.” His head hung down. “Will you help me? Please?”
“Of course.” Mom led Carlos to the bathroom. She looked in the cabinet and pulled out a little tube.
“This should help the bites to stop itching,” she said. She rubbed a tiny bit of cream on each bite.
“There,” she said, closing the tube. “I hope that helps you feel better.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Carlos looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t use the stuff you packed for me. I should have listened to you. I thought I knew best, but I didn’t.”
She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re welcome. Sometimes I think I know best too. Then Heavenly Father shows me that I didn’t know best at all.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Even grown-ups can make mistakes.”
Carlos laughed. Then he frowned. “If I had obeyed you, I wouldn’t hurt so much right now.”
“I think that’s how a lot of Heavenly Father’s children feel when they disobey Him,” Mom said. “They wish they’d listened to Him. And He hurts for His children when they’re in pain, just like I hurt for you now.”
“But He can help them feel better,” said Carlos. “Just like you helped me. Right?”
Mom smiled. “Right! When we repent, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ can help us. And then we can make better choices in the future.”
Carlos smiled too. His sunburn and bug bites still hurt, but he knew he would heal. And next time, he could make a better choice!

In October 2004 the Young Women and Young Men organizations in our stake had an event called “Modesty in Dress,” based on the pamphlet For the Strength of Youth. It consisted of a fashion show divided into three parts: casual wear, sportswear, and formal wear. We asked each of the young men and young women to select three changes of clothing, and we helped them choose which clothes were suitable. We invited their leaders and parents to this activity. We emphasized scriptural verses about the body being a temple (see 1 Cor. 6:19–20) and the counsel of our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. The activity had a positive effect; the young people in our stake are more concerned now about grooming and dressing in an appropriate way.
Teresa de Jesús Contreras de Ramírez, Mexico

Many years ago we used to have money-raising events in our wards to pay for the utilities and other local expenses and activities now paid by the general Church funds and the local unit budget allowance. We used to have bazaars, fairs, dinners, and other fund-raising activities. At that time my ward had a wonderful, devoted, committed bishop.
A member of a neighboring ward found that a dunking machine was a successful money-raising activity. Participants would pay to throw baseballs at a marked mechanical arm. Hitting the bull’s-eye would trigger a release, plunging the person sitting on the seat of the machine into a big basin of cold water. Our ward decided to use this machine, and someone suggested that more people would pay for balls to throw if the bishop would be willing to sit on the dunking seat. Our bishop was a good sport, and because he was responsible for raising the money, he willingly consented to sit on the dunking seat. Soon some began to buy balls and to throw them at the target. Several hit the mark, and the bishop was drenched. After half an hour of this, he began to shake with the cold.
While some of the people thought this was great fun, my father was very offended that the office of the bishop had been so belittled and held up to ridicule or even contempt. Even though the money raised was intended for a good cause, I can still remember feeling ashamed that some of our people did not show more respect for both the office and the man who had by night and day served us so well as our good shepherd. As holders of the priesthood of God, we should set the example of sustaining the leadership of the Church to our families, our friends, and our associates.

As a teenage boy, I struggled a lot with my identity. I wondered why I was on this earth and who I was supposed to become. When I was about 13, the principal of my school gave every student a copy of the New Testament with English and Japanese side-by-side. “It isn’t for religious purposes,” he said. “It is a very good translation, so use it to study English.” When I opened it up though, it gave scripture references for when you feel lonely, need answers to your questions, or are struggling. I could relate to all of those situations!
I read about Jesus Christ. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). “Take up [your] cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). The words resonated with me even though I didn’t fully understand them. I wondered who Jesus Christ is and what it means to have Him as a Savior. I wondered if I was the only one feeling such a connection to what was supposed to be a textbook.
A few years later I met some missionaries for the first time. My parents had warned me about the young Christians who were going around preaching. As I was walking home, a tall American missionary with a kind smile stopped me. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid he would talk about his church. If he had, I might have run the other way! All he asked was how to find the post office. I told him and then walked home.
As I walked away, I felt something. If I see the missionaries again, I thought, I will talk to them.
Not long after that, I ran into a different set of missionaries. I was shocked that God would hear and answer the prayers of a boy like me, until I read about Joseph Smith. I had read in the New Testament to pray always, but God appearing to a man? It felt both radical and right. Rather than run away, I set up an appointment to have them teach me.
A month into meeting with the missionaries, they invited me to be baptized. I didn’t want to turn them down, but I was hesitant to leave the tradition of my parents and everyone around me. There were two paths before me, and I knew there was only one way to know which one to take—I had to pray like Joseph Smith. I asked Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, if the things the missionaries had been teaching me were true.
That was my turning point. From then on, I knew for myself that the restored gospel is true. No one could take that knowledge away from me. I knew which path to follow, and nothing could change that.
I had many questions when I was younger. I learned that I am a child of God, He loves me, He has a plan for me, and He wants to answer my prayers. This knowledge changed my entire perspective on life. I learned that who I am and what I do is significant.
Before I learned that I was a child of God, I wanted to blend in with everyone. I was afraid of standing out. But after I learned that I am a child of God, I realized I can stand out; I can be different.
Praying and realizing that I am a son of God gave me the courage to explain my feelings to my parents, but they didn’t quite understand. They thought I was rebellious and too immature to make the decision to be baptized. They were embarrassed that their son was following this strange religion rather than their traditions. I knew who I was and what I wanted, but I also wanted to honor my parents and hoped they would honor my religion.
I explained my situation to the sister missionaries. They had an idea—they could come talk to my parents so that they would feel better about this religion. I told them I was afraid my parents wouldn’t want to talk to them. Then one of the sisters suggested that we fast together.
When I didn’t eat breakfast, my mom was worried. “Why didn’t you eat?” she asked. I explained that I was fasting, and that made her even more concerned.
“First you are going to this no-man’s land of religion, and now you are not eating. I’m worried. I’m shocked! I’m going to call those missionaries.”
She did call the sisters, and somehow they got themselves invited to our house for dinner!
We had a great time. The missionaries taught my parents the hymn “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301), and we sang it together. My father loved that. After dinner with the sisters, neither of my parents was worried about me going to church. And I felt I was able to honor them by living the gospel because it really encompassed everything they had taught me. I thought if I loved them long enough and treated them kind enough, eventually they would understand. It took 35 years after my baptism, but my mother was baptized and went through the temple just a few years ago!
Knowing that I’m a child of God has impacted many of my life decisions. I also know that as we follow the Spirit and do what Heavenly Father asks of us, even when it seems hard, He will bless us. That is always the best choice.

At my first school dance, I felt awkward and out of place until I joined a group of friends on the dance floor and started having fun. Then I noticed a boy I knew standing by himself in a corner. He was shy and a little different, so people avoided him. I felt prompted to invite him to dance with us, but I was shy too. Then I remembered how I’d felt at the beginning of the dance.

I asked one of my friends to come with me, and we went to ask the boy to dance with our group. He seemed unsure and said, “I don’t know if I can really keep a beat.” We replied with a laugh that we couldn’t either. He slowly nodded and followed us.

For a few minutes, we were dancing while the boy just stood there. I was starting to doubt whether I’d done the right thing. But then a new song came on, and he smiled. “This is a good one,” he said, starting to dance. He was really good! Other people began to notice. Then the boy started break dancing! It was amazing! Soon a whole circle of people stood around him, clapping and smiling. My friend leaned over to me and said, “Look what you started.” I grinned and knew we did the right thing. Like Alma 37:6 says, “By small and simple things are great things brought to pass.” I am grateful that I had the Holy Ghost as my companion that night.

The White’s group of wagons reached Fort Bridger in southwest Wyoming by December 4. There, Barnard said, “we were forced to camp as our teams were all dead.” For three days they waited and hungered. “I shall never forget the feelings of my mother,” he recalled. “She called us together and said she had never seen her dear children cry for bread before, but said the Lord would open the way and send us some provisions.” That night 14 relief wagons rolled into camp. “The wagons were loaded with flour,” Barnard said. “I will leave you to judge our feelings!” Baking fires roared through the night once again.

It was a service project like no other for the youth of the Tucson 17th Ward. Missionaries to the deaf had recently arrived in their area and decided to put on a conference for the hearing-impaired in southern Arizona. It was up to the youth to take care of the children while their parents were in workshops.
“If we had not had the youth, we never could have done the deaf conference,” said full-time missionary Sister Lynnette Johnson.
The youth did much more than just baby-sit. They had children’s workshops of their own, which included pantomimed scenes from the Bible with labels and no words; and making spider cookies, puppets, and clay dough figures, among other things. The children were so thrilled they wanted to come back the next week.
“It was exciting to see the kids talking with their hands and being able to understand it,” said Susanne Walston, 17. “It was neat to see the children do things we didn’t know how to do, and they taught us some words in sign language.

As part of a service project, I traveled to Rwanda along with a few other physicians to help with medical needs. After two weeks, near the end of my trip, homesickness crept in. I missed my family, my comfortable bed, and my home.
On my last Sunday in Africa, I was able to coordinate my schedule so that I could attend church. Though the Church was not yet formally recognized in Rwanda, I was able to find a meeting time and directions on the Church’s website.
And what directions they were: “Walk down the cobblestone road across from the Ministry building. Look for an open gate. Then walk down the steps.”
As I followed these directions, I began to hear the distinct refrain of a familiar hymn. I descended the steps, and the words of “How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85) reached my ears. The steps ended at a small building, where dozens of smiling people were milling around the entrance. Despite the fact that I was a stranger to the congregation, I felt immediate kinship. Dozens of Rwandan brothers and sisters stepped forward to shake my hand, and as they did, an oppressive load of loneliness lifted off my back—I was home!
Entering the building, I attended a typical three-hour meeting block that was no different from the one in my home ward in California. Holders of the Aaronic Priesthood passed the sacrament, the talks centered on the Savior, and even the Sunday School lesson was the same one taught in my home ward that week.
Most important, the Spirit of the Lord permeated the services. Clearly, the Lord smiled favorably on these good people trying their best to serve Him. I learned that during the previous year, only a handful of Rwandans attended services here. Yet I counted more than 100 attendees, half of them smiling children.
Now that Rwanda has been opened to missionary work, I suspect the missionaries will find great success as the Spirit testifies to increasing numbers of Rwandan investigators that the restored Church is the kingdom of God for the entire earth—for every continent, for every people, and for every child of God. How grateful I am for the Church, whether found on the central coast of California or down a cobblestone path in central Africa.

Passing the Flame
On 7 March, the First Presidency and members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles stood in front of the Church Administration Building to pass the Paralympic flame. Standing on the steps, the First Presidency welcomed the flame from torchbearer Carrie Snoddy of Park City, Utah. She handed her torch to President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, who handed it to President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, who then passed it to President Gordon B. Hinckley.
President Hinckley raised the torch for spectators to see. “Welcome, welcome, to the Paralympics, to these great athletes who have excelled!” he said. “Go forward! Win the race! Claim the pennant! Be happy, be happy. We’re all with you. We’re all rooting for you. We want you to succeed, and we hope that this will be a great and marvelous and wonderful occasion for everyone who participates. Let everyone be a winner. Hurray!”
President Hinckley than passed the torch to Margaret Stocks of the Brigham City Second Ward, Brigham City Utah Box Elder Stake, who carried it on its way.

President Hunter enjoyed camping. Many times the boys and their father camped in a grove of trees on an undeveloped piece of land near their home.
Howard also liked camping while they were traveling. John and Richard both recall the night the three of them were jolted from sleep by the noise and the headlight of a train coming straight at them! Just a short distance away, it changed direction, passing within six meters. In the dark, they had rolled out their sleeping bags at the base of a railroad track.

I didn’t swear and wouldn’t go to the parties with the other kids in my school so I stood out—especially in a non-LDS community. I didn’t even associate with them, so the guys in the school turned it into a big game. They would hang pornography on the walls by my locker, sing dirty songs in front of me, and call me Little Moses. That was the name they gave me.
At football practice, I remember guys jumping on top of me and crushing me at the bottom. It was a dog pile and they’d do it every day. There I’d be trying to play football and instead end up fighting these guys in practice.
What I discovered through all of this was the harder it was for me, the closer I grew to the Lord and the stronger my testimony became. I’m thankful I was truly strengthened at a time when I could have wallowed in self-pity and gone in the other direction.

The river eddied fast and smooth around the raft and was a muddy gray color. The air was cool and smelled of snow. It was early spring, May 20. In Canada that’s a holiday celebrating Queen Victoria’s birthday, and for the LDS Branch in Banff, Alberta Province, it’s time for the annual trip down the Kootenay River.
Erwin Oertli is a member of the Banff Branch. He is also a professional river guide who has a government concession to run raft trips in Canada, and on the same weekend each spring he invites the entire Banff Branch, all interested families, on a three-day raft trip down the Kootenay River. He also invites several nonmember friends.
“It’s the best way I know of to introduce them to the Church,” he explained.
The trip began early Saturday morning. The rafts were unloaded on the river bank, inflated, and lifted into the water. Under Brother Oertli’s direction, metal platforms were placed in the rafts and lashed to the sides. Each family loaded and secured its food, supplies, and equipment onto the platforms. Brother Oertli gave final instructions on safety, the river, and handling the rafts. The river runners then buckled on life jackets, and at last the first raft was launched.
The first section of the river was fast and smooth. This gave the oarsmen a chance to get the feel of their rafts. The river reflected gray and liquid silver in the bright sun.
At noon the rafts were beached and Brother Oertli led the group up an old mining road to a ridge that overlooks the river. Below them the Kootenay snaked its way through the high Rocky Mountains of British Columbia. The tops of the mountains were still iced with snow. The long, ivory fingers of glaciers twisted down the slopes of the higher peaks.
After lunch the rafts were launched again. The river dropped faster now, turning sharply around the high slopes that walled it in. These rough-cut river canyons are bordered with stands of columnlike lodge pole pines. There were several sections of rough, white water, but by evening, with the exception of the girl who fell in, the rafts made it to the campsite with little trouble.
Equipment was unloaded and the rafts were pulled onto the shore and tipped over, allowing the water to drain out. In the blue-gray light of evening, tents were set up near a line of jagged pines that shouldered the beach. Fires were built, and the sounds of laughter and voices mixed with the savory aroma of burning pine and of frying steaks and potatoes.
The following morning a testimony meeting, held in the pines, was directed by Harlen Cahoon, a counselor in the Banff Branch presidency. In the meeting nearly everyone from the branch stood and expressed the strong feeling of closeness they felt for each other and for their Father in Heaven.
Brother Cahoon later explained that the testimony meeting on the trip was something everyone looked forward to every year.
“It’s the highlight of the trip,” he said.
After the meeting some of the families spent the afternoon hiking to a ridge that overlooked the river, while others sat by the river or in the shadows of pines, enjoying a steady flow of conversation. Fires were built with wood gathered the night before, and dutch ovens filled with chicken were buried in hot coals for dinner.
Toward evening, high-piled clouds drifted across the sky and the mountain peaks were fogged with gray-white wisps. Rain fell lightly, cooling the earth and scenting the air with the pleasant smells of wet leaves, pine, and aspen. The sky partially cleared as night came.
A cream-white moon, full and large, rose above the river, flooding it with shimmering, silver light that danced on the waves. A large bonfire was built on the beach. The group gathered around its warmth, watching fiery sparks sail up with the moon and the stars. Their soft singing filled the night air.
The next day, late in the afternoon, it was over. Under a fierce barrage of water fighting, the rafts glided into shore where the river intersected a road. The rafts were pulled onto the bank, deflated, and rolled up. Equipment was loaded into waiting cars and trucks, a prayer of thanks was said, and everyone drove for home feeling warm from the sun and from the closeness they felt for each other. Looking forward to the next trip, they left the Kootenay.

When my family saw how involved I was becoming in the Church they insisted that I stop attending. To honor my parents, exactly as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was teaching me, I decided to continue my attendance with my family at the Seventh Day Adventist church on Saturday, and then also attend church on Sunday with the McCombs family. This worked for a little while but when I was about 14, my family put an end to my Sunday attendance. The Spirit was burning strong in my heart, and I was thankful for the McCombs, Church leaders and fellow students that continued to invite me to a seminary class.

After I turned 18 years old, I asked Larry to baptize me. I was baptized in their pool after a Sunday evening seminary class. Anton Ferrier, who was the branch president at the time, conferred the gift of the Holy Ghost upon me. It was a perfect day for the completion of the long-awaited blessing of baptism.
I then went on to attend Brigham Young University-Hawaii, without the support of my family. I did not hear from them for the next few years but as I reached out to them, forgiveness blossomed. My father sent money to help me complete my schooling towards a bachelor’s degree in social work and I continued to be blessed as I chose to serve in the Texas Corpus Christi Mission, Spanish speaking.
I have never regretted my decision in 37 years. I know this gospel to be true and it has continuously blessed my life. I notice the Lord’s hand in my life through people like the McComb family and others, and hope that my light of the gospel is bright enough to encourage others to feel the Savior’s love. I encourage you to look for those who share His love and then listen for the Spirit and trust your feelings, because this is where true joy can be found.

From the time the tooth fairy left her first quarter under my pillow, my parents have been teaching me to be careful with my money. I always paid tithing first on everything I earned and put at least half into savings for college.
By the time I met my husband, I was pretty sure I had done everything right when it came to managing my money. I didn’t have a credit card or a car loan, and I had worked part time during college so I didn’t have to take out a student loan. I had followed my parents’ advice about money to the letter.
So I was shocked when my husband and I sat down to open a joint bank account and get our first credit card. The bank clerk came back and told us that our application for a credit card had been rejected. I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong.
As it turns out, there is a lot more to credit than I realized. I set out to learn the basics, and I now understand why our first credit card application was denied. What I learned will help you prepare to handle credit wisely in the future.
I knew that using credit usually ends up costing you money, so I avoided credit cards. But I didn’t understand that there are some times when using credit might be necessary and beneficial.
It turns out my credit card application was rejected because neither my husband nor I had a credit history. This is a record kept on any person who has ever used credit before (whether a car loan, a credit card, or even a store card). A credit report lists all the lines of credit you have, what the balances are, and whether you’ve made your payments on time. All of this information is combined to create a credit score—a number usually between 300 and 850 that tells lenders how likely you are to repay a loan. The higher your score, the more lenders will trust you to make your payments on time. Plus, you’ll get better interest rates and terms on loans.
Because my husband and I had never used credit before, lenders had to assume we weren’t a safe investment. When we bought our first car, we had to make a large down payment and pay a high interest rate until our credit score improved. It was an expensive mistake. By getting a credit card earlier and paying off the bill in full each month, we could have built a good credit history without ever paying interest. This would have allowed us to get better terms on our car loan and saved us money.

Thwaaack! The aluminum arrow slammed into the 2.5-inch bull’s-eye, dead center. With methodical precision, the archer nocked another shaft and sped it into the same dark disk of the target so closely to the first arrow that the fletchings were crushed. Luck? Robin Hood?
No. Kevin Sant, 25, mild-mannered super-archer. Without parallel in recent years in inter-collegiate archery competition, Kevin has swept four collegiate matches in a row—four gold medals in four meets. His category, bare bow, prohibits him from using the technical regalia designed to improve the performance of the archer. Kevin fires with just the bow, the arrow, and gloves. He fires a 50-pound Bingham bow, which he hand finished himself in two weeks of painstaking labor. He was introduced to archery at Weber State College just three years ago.
During 1976 he competed in matches with different universities throughout the nation. Ranges and rules for matches varied, depending upon the size of the facilities and the desires of the officials. Archers may fire at distances ranging from 18 meters to 60 yards. (At 18 meters, the bull’s-eye is only 2.5 inches in diameter.)
Kevin and his teammates represent their school without any financial support. All participation is voluntary and self-supported. But he does enjoy excellent facilities at the University of Utah and has the advantage of an outstanding coach, Duane Erickson, 16-year veteran of the sport and national champion in 1963. Kevin’s coach was once reputedly capable of hitting a coin tossed into the air at 18 meters.
Kevin is a former member of his elders quorum presidency in Ogden Stake and is now instructing the 10th elders quorum of the Salt Lake City University First Stake.

When Newel Knight informed his wife, Lydia, that the Saints would have to leave Nauvoo and move yet again, she responded with tenacious faith, saying, “Our place is with the kingdom of God. Let us at once set about making preparations to leave.”1 Brother Knight had moved his family several times already as many of the Saints had moved from New York to Ohio to Missouri and to Illinois. Lydia Knight’s devoted submission to what she knew was God’s will typifies powerfully the faith of those heroic early Saints.

This story happened in El Salvador.

Gerardo roller-skated to the front steps of his house. Mamá’s car was in the driveway. That meant she and his older brother, Alejandro, were back from the doctor. Gerardo pulled off his skates and raced inside.

“Gerardo?” Mamá called. “We’re in here!”

Gerardo walked into the family room. Alejandro was lying on the couch. Mamá sat next to him. She looked worried.

Gerardo was worried too. Last week, they found out that Alejandro had cancer. He was very sick.

But Alejandro sat up and smiled when Gerardo came in. “Hi! Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, but how was the doctor’s?” Gerardo asked.

“He says I’ll have to get surgery,” Alejandro said.

Mamá nodded. “But the best doctors to help him are at the children’s hospital. Since Alejandro is 14, he’s too old to get care there. We’ll have to find somewhere else.”

Gerardo’s stomach tightened. If they couldn’t get help for Alejandro, what would happen? Would Alejandro’s cancer get worse?

Gerardo went to his room. He needed to think.

In Primary, Gerardo learned that Heavenly Father would always hear him. Gerardo knew he could always ask Him for help.

So he knelt by his bed and folded his arms. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help Alejandro,” he prayed. “Please help us find doctors that can do the surgery.”

Soon Mamá called him for dinner. She had made pupusas, Gerardo’s favorite. He took a big bite of the thick, grilled tortilla filled with cheese and beans. But he still felt worried about his brother.

Alejandro only took a few bites of his pupusa. He was frowning and moving very slowly.

Mamá must have noticed too. “Why don’t we watch a Church video?” she asked. They liked watching videos about Jesus Christ when they felt sad.

“OK.” Gerardo cleared the dishes while Mamá got the video ready. Then they all sat down to watch.

In the video, Jesus Christ prayed in a garden by a tree. Gerardo knew this story. It was when Jesus suffered before He died on the cross.

When the video ended, Gerardo felt quiet and peaceful. But he had a question. “Why did Jesus have to hurt so much?” he asked.

Mamá held him and Alejandro close. “Jesus chose to feel the hurt because He loves us. He felt all the pain we go through.”

Gerardo looked at Alejandro. “Does Jesus know what it feels like to have cancer?”

“Yes, He does,” said Mamá. “He knows how hard it is. And because He knows what it feels like, He knows how to help us.”

Gerardo felt warm inside, like he was wrapped in a big blanket. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ knew and loved his family. They knew how to help Alejandro.

When Gerardo got home from school the next day, he found Mamá packing a bag.

“Good news!” she said. “I talked to the doctor at the children’s hospital. They are going to help Alejandro. He will have surgery tomorrow.”

Gerardo gave Mamá a big hug. “Heavenly Father is helping us! Can we pray and thank Him?”

“Great idea,” said Mamá. “Let’s get Alejandro.”

As they prayed together, Gerardo felt peaceful. Heavenly Father had heard his prayer! Now Alejandro would get the surgery he needed. Gerardo knew Jesus Christ understood what they were going through. And He would always help them through their trials.

After finishing our mission assignment, I was called by President Gordon B. Hinckley to serve as a Seventy in the Church. Part of my early training as a new General Authority included an opportunity to sit with members of the Twelve as they assigned missionaries to serve in one of the 300-plus missions of this great Church.

With the encouragement and permission of President Henry B. Eyring, I would like to relate to you an experience, very special to me, which I had with him several years ago when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Each Apostle holds the keys of the kingdom and exercises them at the direction and assignment of the President of the Church. Elder Eyring was assigning missionaries to their fields of labor, and as part of my training, I was invited to observe.

I joined Elder Eyring early one morning in a room where several large computer screens had been prepared for the session. There was also a staff member from the Missionary Department who had been assigned to assist us that day.

First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know “perfectly” where the missionaries should be assigned. The word “perfectly” said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.

As the process began, a picture of the missionary to be assigned would come up on one of the computer screens. As each picture appeared, to me it was as if the missionary were in the room with us. Elder Eyring would then greet the missionary with his kind and endearing voice: “Good morning, Elder Reier or Sister Yang. How are you today?”

He told me that in his own mind he liked to think of where the missionaries would conclude their mission. This would aid him to know where they were to be assigned. Elder Eyring would then study the comments from the bishops and stake presidents, medical notes, and other issues relating to each missionary.

He then referred to another screen which displayed areas and missions across the world. Finally, as he was prompted by the Spirit, he would assign the missionary to his or her field of labor.

From others of the Twelve, I have learned that this general method is typical each week as Apostles of the Lord assign scores of missionaries to serve throughout the world.

Having served as a missionary in my own country in the Eastern States Mission a number of years ago, I was deeply moved by this experience. Also, having served as a mission president, I was grateful for a further witness in my heart that the missionaries I had received in New York City were sent to me by revelation.

After assigning a few missionaries, Elder Eyring turned to me as he pondered one particular missionary and said, “So, Brother Rasband, where do you think this missionary should go?” I was startled! I quietly suggested to Elder Eyring that I did not know and that I did not know I could know! He looked at me directly and simply said, “Brother Rasband, pay closer attention and you too can know!” With that, I pulled my chair a little closer to Elder Eyring and the computer screen, and I did pay much closer attention!

A couple of other times as the process moved along, Elder Eyring would turn to me and say, “Well, Brother Rasband, where do you feel this missionary should go?” I would name a particular mission, and Elder Eyring would look at me thoughtfully and say, “No, that’s not it!” He would then continue to assign the missionaries where he had felt prompted.

As we were nearing the completion of that assignment meeting, a picture of a certain missionary appeared on the screen. I had the strongest prompting, the strongest of the morning, that the missionary we had before us was to be assigned to Japan. I did not know that Elder Eyring was going to ask me on this one, but amazingly he did. I rather tentatively and humbly said to him, “Japan?” Elder Eyring responded immediately, “Yes, let’s go there.” And up on the computer screen the missions of Japan appeared. I instantly knew that the missionary was to go to the Japan Sapporo Mission.

Elder Eyring did not ask me the exact name of the mission, but he did assign that missionary to the Japan Sapporo Mission.

Privately in my heart I was deeply touched and sincerely grateful to the Lord for allowing me to experience the prompting to know where that missionary should go.

At the end of the meeting Elder Eyring bore his witness to me of the love of the Savior, which He has for each missionary assigned to go out into the world and preach the restored gospel. He said that it is by the great love of the Savior that His servants know where these wonderful young men and women, senior missionaries, and senior couple missionaries are to serve. I had a further witness that morning that every missionary called in this Church, and assigned or reassigned to a particular mission, is called by revelation from the Lord God Almighty through one of these, His servants.

Whenever I have been in the hospital someone in my family has been with me almost constantly, even when I was in the Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. (My home is in Provo, about 45 miles away.) My mother even gave up going on a free cruise that my father was directing so that she could be with me while I was recuperating from one operation.
My mother is always here, 24 hours a day, for whatever I need. Whether it’s to rush me to the doctor or just comfort my sorrows, I always know she is near. It would be very difficult for me to try to get through a day without her loving care.

“Mama, look at this one!” Joshua pointed to the Christmas tree. It was tall and skinny, with perfect green needles.
Mama paused and looked at the price tag. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Joshua sighed and kept walking. The market was crowded with stalls of food and Christmas trees. It was crowded with families buying trees and ingredients to make delicious treats, like bûche de Noël (Yule log dessert). Mama had brought Joshua with her to buy some food, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the Christmas trees. Some of the trees were tall and thin. Others were short and round. Joshua even saw one that was just his height!
Mama said they didn’t have a lot of money this year. They probably wouldn’t be able to buy a tree. That made Joshua a little sad. Whenever he went to the marketplace with Mama, he kept looking for the perfect Christmas tree. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a tree to take home.
Joshua held Mama’s hand as they walked to the next row of trees. Joshua gasped. There it was—the perfect tree!
He ran ahead and put a hand on the tree. It wasn’t very green. It was missing clumps of needles. It wasn’t too tall. In fact, it was bent far over, like an old man leaning on a cane.
“Mama, it’s perfect!” Joshua said. “Can we take it home? Please?”
Mama glanced at the price tag. “Well, it’s not too many euros. And I think we can fit it in the car.”
Joshua could hardly wait. He kept playing with the sleeves of his coat as he waited for Mama to pay for the tree. Then a nice man helped them place the tree in the car. When they were finally home, his stepbrother, Matthieu, and Papa helped take the tree from the car. They carried the tree inside and set it in the corner of their front room.
“First, we need to do the lights,” Matthieu said.
It was hard to hang the lights up since the tree was so bent over. Matthieu put the lights on the top. Joshua put them on the bottom. Next they hung the ornaments. Finally Papa helped Joshua place the star on the top.
Papa plugged in the lights and put an arm around Mama. Joshua smiled at the tree. The tree’s lights made the whole room feel warm and cozy. He sat underneath the tree and looked up at the brightly colored ornaments. The tree didn’t look as bent over and sad now. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
“It’s a perfect Jesus tree,” Joshua said.
“What do you mean?” Mama asked.
“Our tree is just like Jesus,” Joshua said. “Jesus was born in a poor, dirty manger. Our tree was poor and sad in the marketplace. But now the tree is beautiful and grand, just like how Jesus became a beautiful king.”
“Our perfect Jesus tree,” Papa said. “I love that.”
Joshua smiled. This was going to be a very special Christmas.