Gospel Story Finder

At a school party in Melbourne a few years ago, Emily Denning walked up to Lisa Bignell and said something shocking.

Why was Lisa shocked? Well, the two girls had never been more than just acquaintances, classmates. So you could have knocked Lisa over with a feather when Emily walked up to her and said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while. I want to know more about your church. I want to become a Mormon.”

Lisa says, “I sort of jumped because it was really unexpected. I guess I never thought she’d be interested.”

It turns out that Emily had known for several years that Lisa was LDS. It also happened that Emily had been searching for the right church for about six years. “I was trying to find the truth, something that sounded right to me, not what other people thought I should believe. I wanted to find out for myself,” she says.

Emily visited a number of different churches, but none of them “clicked” as she puts it. In the meantime, Lisa’s family was participating in their ward’s “set-a-date” program (where members are encouraged to set a target date for having someone prepared to receive the missionaries). “We had been praying for a couple of weeks, when Emily came up to me. Because we never really hung around at school together, we didn’t know each other a whole lot. I was shocked, but then I thought immediately, This is an opportunity. I’d better take it.”

So Lisa invited Emily to a fireside where they were showing the film “How Rare a Possession.” Emily says, “I figured, well, there’s only one way to find out if this is right or not. I felt even before I came to church that I was going to join. It was just a feeling I had. When I walked into the chapel, everything just fell into place. I had this really good feeling.”

That good feeling was just reinforced as Emily continued to attend church and firesides and took the missionary lessons. Her only regrets since her baptism? Emily looks at little children in church and sometimes envies them, “growing up in church, with Primary and seminary, Young Women and all the rest of it.” She wishes she had been a member all her life. She knows how she’ll raise her own children someday.

Actually, the missionary work never ends. Emily wants to be married in the temple and raise her children in the Church. Ben plans to go on a mission. At last report Sally was working to introduce a friend to the gospel. But first it has to begin. And it begins with friendship. It begins with letting your membership and your values be known. And it begins with faith that if you do your part, the Lord will do his.

When President Hinckley was two years old, he became severely ill with whooping cough. The doctor told his mother that he needed good clean air to breathe. His parents bought a farm outside of Salt Lake City, and the family moved there during summer months. While there, young Gordon learned to work hard pruning trees, weeding gardens, and caring for animals. He learned that you could only harvest food after you had planted and cared for it. He learned that Heavenly Father blesses us, but He expects us to do the work first.

During this time, I worked closely with President Reid Tateoka of the Japan Sendai Mission. As part of his usual mission routine, President Tateoka planned a meeting for missionary leaders in the southern portion of his mission. A few days prior to the meeting, President Tateoka had an impression, a feeling in his heart, to invite all missionaries of that zone to the leadership meeting, instead of the prescribed small number of elder and sister leaders.
When he announced his intention, he was reminded that this meeting was not designed for all missionaries but only for mission leaders. However, setting convention aside in order to follow the prompting he had received, he invited all missionaries serving in several coastal cities, including the city of Fukushima, to the meeting. On the appointed day, March 11, 2011, the missionaries gathered together for the expanded mission meeting in the inland city of Koriyama.
During this meeting a 9.0-magnitude earthquake and tsunami struck the region of Japan where the Japan Sendai Mission is located. Tragically, many coastal cities—including those from which the missionaries had been gathered—were devastated and suffered great loss of life. And the city of Fukushima suffered a subsequent nuclear event.
Although the meetinghouse where the missionaries were meeting that day was damaged by the earthquake, through following the promptings of the Holy Ghost, President and Sister Tateoka and all missionaries were safely assembled. They were out of harm’s way and miles from the devastation of the tsunami and the nuclear fallout.

At a recent school dance, I found out that a young man in my class liked me. After I talked to him about it, he asked me to “date” him. I told him no and said that my parents wouldn’t let me. I didn’t mention anything about the Church.
Later in the week, he e-mailed me and again asked me to “date” him. He told me that lots of kids at our school had strict parents who wouldn’t let them date. He then told me that even though they weren’t allowed to have boyfriends or girlfriends, they made the decision to do so anyway.
I explained that I was a Latter-day Saint and would not date until I was 16 and would not steady date. I felt bad because he was very nice, and I really did like him. However, I felt good about my choice and knew I had made the right decision.
I know that waiting until you are 16 to date is very important, and I’m glad that with the gospel, making hard choices is easier.

Some years ago, Zulma—my wife, my better half, my best part—received some difficult news just two weeks before the wedding of one of our children. She had a tumor in her parotid gland, and it was growing rapidly. Her face began swelling, and she was to immediately undergo a delicate operation. Many thoughts ran through her mind and weighed on her heart. Was the tumor malignant? How would her body recover? Would her face become paralyzed? How intense would the pain be? Would her face be permanently scarred? Would the tumor return once removed? Would she be able to attend the wedding of our son? As she lay in the operating room, she felt broken.

In that very important moment, the Spirit whispered to her that she had to accept the will of the Father. She then decided to place her trust in God. She strongly felt that whatever the result, His will would be the best for her. Soon she drifted into surgical sleep.

Later, she wrote poetically in her diary: “On the surgeon’s table I bowed before Thee, and surrendering to Thy will, I fell asleep. I knew I could trust Thee, knowing that nothing bad can come from Thee.”

She found strength and comfort from surrendering her will to that of the Father. That day, God blessed her greatly.

I went through a rough patch my senior year in high school when I wasn’t making great choices. I remember seeing my mom crying, and I wondered if I’d disappointed her. At the time, I worried that her tears meant she’d lost hope for me, and if she didn’t feel hope for me, maybe there wasn’t a way back.
But my dad was more practiced at zooming out and taking the long view. He’d learned from experience that worry feels a lot like love, but it’s not the same. He used the eye of faith to see that everything would work out, and his hopeful approach changed me.
When I graduated from high school and went to BYU, my dad sent letters reminding me of who I was. He became my cheerleader, and everybody needs a cheerleader—someone who isn’t telling you, “You’re not running fast enough”; they’re lovingly reminding you that you can.

I have been a Beehive for about one and a half years and had never read the New Era. I had heard others talk about how much they loved it, but I never took much thought about it. Thanks to the Young Men–Young Women activity this month, I read the New Era for the first time. After reading it cover to cover, I realized what I had been missing out on. I felt the Spirit so strongly as I read those articles, and even though there had recently been contention in my house, the New Era somehow managed to help take all the feelings of anger away. I will never not read another issue again.
Michelle R., Utah

Lucy Mack Smith spoke in general conference in 1845, after all of the Book of Mormon witnesses in her family had died of illness or been killed. She told a story from her son Samuel’s first mission.

Samuel, one of the Eight Witnesses, visited the home of Rhoda Greene, whose husband was on a mission for another church. Samuel asked Rhoda if she would like a book. “It is a Book of Mormon that my Brother Joseph translated from plates out of the ground,” he explained.

Rhoda accepted a copy of the book to read and show her husband. When Samuel returned later, Rhoda told him her husband had no interest, and she could not buy the book. Sad, Samuel took the book and began to leave. Rhoda later told Lucy that Samuel then paused and looked at her. “She never saw a man look so,” Lucy said in her conference talk. “She knew that he had the Spirit of God.”

“The Spirit forbids me taking this book,” Samuel told Rhoda, who knelt and asked Samuel to pray with her. She kept the book, read it, and received a testimony of it. So, eventually, did her husband. They chose to abide by its precepts throughout their lives.

“And thus the work began,” Lucy testified, “and then it spread like a mustard seed.”10

As I drove to work through our neighborhood in Puyallup, Washington, I began to notice a young girl among a group of children waiting for the school bus.
Washington is well blessed with rainfall, and there were many cold, wet mornings when the kids would huddle together. But I could always count on her to ignore the elements and come up with a big smile and wave as I passed the bus stop.
The young girl was tall and slim and about 13 years old. She wore a mouthful of braces and I could see them glisten in the glare of my car lights.
Somehow her little effort to be friendly helped me get my day started right and became something I looked forward to.
I told my wife about the little friend I had, and how without fail she would always be there with that sweet smile and friendly wave. We didn’t know who she was, but she seemed to be an outstanding young girl.
It wasn’t very long after this that our own 13-year-old daughter, Cheryl, asked if she could go to an activity that a local church was having. She called it MIA. She was going with a neighbor girl, Vicki, and promised us that there would be parental supervision.
Cheryl began to attend MIA regularly, and after a few occasions she told us that Vicki was a Mormon. Cheryl also said Vicki was my friend from the bus stop.
Discovering that Vicki was a Mormon gave us a good feeling. I was aware of the reputation the Mormons had of being a good and family-oriented people.
A short time later Cheryl came home from school and relayed a message from Vicki. She was sending two young men over, missionaries, to tell us about her church.
“Tell Vicki that I have been waiting for 30 years to know what a Mormon is,” I told my daughter.
The elders arrived and we heard about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith. I will never forget when those young men bore their testimonies of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith being a true prophet of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Over the next few weeks we began to read and were soon captivated by the new scriptures.
I finally met Vicki—she was at church our first time and was in the audience, smiling, when the three members of my family were baptized. We moved away from that part of the state soon after and have not seen Vicki since. I recently heard she is married now and has a family of her own.
Through her actions and those of the young people we have known since, my wife and I are thoroughly convinced that the greatest potential for missionary work lies in the youth of the Church. We have served as stake missionaries and have served a full-time mission in Pennsylvania, and each time have relied upon the referrals and good example the youth have supplied.
We will never forget Vicki and will be forever grateful to her.

As time passed, I went into surgery for fusions of the broken vertebrae. The incisions finally healed, and I began therapy each day to see how much of a return of the nerve function we could hope to accomplish. At first there was no response, and I was shocked to see how shrunken my arms had become. All the muscles I had built up through heavy farm work were gone, and we were starting all over again.
Many discouraging, fruitless sessions followed. Then one day, as I was watching the therapist work on the small bicep that remained, I saw a twitch! This was the first sign of life in my arm in fifteen weeks! We began to work on this twitch, and in a week it became a twitch to the second power. This little improvement became a source of hope. I honestly feel that this was a result of the administration by the priesthood, because by all rights I should have remained totally paralyzed for the remainder of my life.

Kennedy was orphaned when both parents passed passed away from undiagnosed diseases just a couple of months apart. They left behind eight cherished children, the youngest just three weeks old. The lives of Kennedy and his brothers and sisters were forever changed. The emptiness and loss robbed him of hope. That feeling would follow him for many years. His Spirit craved acceptance, love and belonging.
As a young orphan, Kennedy depended on others for survival. Prior to being brought to the children’s center, he and his siblings were scattered among relatives. As with most experiences in life, some of the times were good, some desperate. Throughout it all, and despite separation from each other, the siblings remain bonded together. His older brother Bwalya was ever present in his life and took on the role of father and protector even though he was only two years older than Kennedy.
Kennedy was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when he was nine and became a baptized member at the age of eleven. Five siblings were also baptized.
As a young teenager, life became difficult for Kennedy when no funds were available for his continued housing, food and much desired education. It was at this time that BJ Warnick, Sandra Peters, and Anthony Mulenga—who had all known Kennedy since he was four—were able to take him into their care. Through their Heart to Hands Foundation, he and Bwalya were immediately adopted into their flock. While it was obvious that Kennedy needed the basics required for daily survival, what he really needed was hope and love and they had plenty of that to offer. Kennedy said while he was not officially adopted, it was even better. He now had two moms. With his new family’s help, he was able to complete grade twelve, obtain a driver’s license and complete auto mechanic school. Again, he was wrapped in the arms of his Savior, but it was through the acts of others. Kennedy remarked, “I don’t know who I would have become without the continual love of my enlarged family and friends who have dedicated so much time to me.”
It was a year ago that Kennedy made the decision to serve a mission and to become those arms of the Savior for others. His ‘better than adopted family’, his brother Bwalya and his determined Bishop Michael Simbeya in the Libala Ward helped him prepare. While at the Ghana MTC, before departing to the Kenya Nairobi mission, miracles occurred and he was able to attend the temple and take part not only in his father’s ordinance work, but also to participate in the sealing of his parents and finally his sealing to them for time and all eternity.
Now, as Elder Chitalu, in the mission office he met Sister Stacie Sturt, mission leader for Kenya Nairobi West Mission. She captured this beautiful photo of Elder Kennedy Chitalu standing in front of the picture of his much younger self, cradled in the arms of his Savior. Now he wears a name tag as a representative of Jesus Christ. It is his turn to wrap his arms around others and help bring them to Christ. He testifies: “I know and stand as a solemn witness that Jesus Christ is our Savior, and I know that His Atonement has healing power for all kinds of afflictions”.

I just started attending a junior high that’s mixed with high schoolers. Every day I hear swearing and mean comments.
My family prays together every morning before school. We ask if anyone needs any special prayers. Sometimes I ask whoever is praying to pray to help me in junior high.
I know I can make a small difference, so when someone is mean or starts to swear I just change the subject. I know that if I have faith the Savior can help me avoid bad stuff at school.

Brendon W., 15, California, USA

I recall in the 1980s when we were opening a $30 million chemical plant in the Far East. A government minister invited us to his home for dinner. He took us to see his fleet of nineteen fancy cars, given as gifts by foreign companies. Soon a foreign partner suggested Jon make a yearly kickback to the minister of $250,000. Jon responded that he “had no intention of paying even five cents toward what was nothing more than extortion.”6
Rather than bow to the minister’s demand, he sold the plant and moved the operation. We lost millions of dollars, but word spread that Huntsman would not succumb to demands for “fees.” Such demands were never made again.

I heard President Grant on several occasions before I met him. As teenage boys, my brother and I came to this Tabernacle at conference when there was room for anybody who wished to come. As boys are wont to do, we sat in the balcony at the very far end of the building. To me it was always impressive when this tall man stood to speak. Some kind of electricity passed through my boyish frame. His voice rang out in testimony of the Book of Mormon. When he said it was true, I knew it was true. He spoke with great power on the Word of Wisdom and, without hesitation, promised blessings to the people if they would observe it. I have often thought of the human misery, the pain that has resulted from the smoking of cigarettes, the poverty that has resulted from the drinking of liquor which might have been avoided had his prophetic counsel been followed.
He spoke on the law of tithing. I can still hear his great testimony of this principle. He spoke of the fast offering and said, as I remember him from my boyhood days, that if all the world would observe this simple principle, which came as a revelation from God, the needs of the poor over the earth would be met without taxing the people for welfare purposes.
He warned against the enslavement of personal debt. The world at that time was on a reckless pursuit of riches. Then came Black Thursday of November 1929. I was nineteen years of age, a student at the university. I saw the economy crumble. I saw men whom I knew lose everything as their creditors moved against them. I saw much of the trauma and the stress of the times. I thought then, and I have thought since, how so many people might have been saved pain and misery, suffering, embarrassment, and trouble had they listened to the counsel of a prophet concerning personal debt.

Recently, I had a phone call with one of my close friends. It went like most of our conversations do—we laughed, joked, and talked about our lives.
But my heart sunk as it became clear to me that this friend, one of my very favorite people in the whole world, was no longer living in accordance with the gospel of Jesus Christ. I remained neutral and kind during our call but hung up feeling disappointed. I was sad that this friend and I no longer shared the same values.
I wondered if I should have said more. Should I have stood up for what I still believed in? I didn’t agree with the decisions my friend was making, but I also didn’t want her to feel like I was trying to condemn her. And I certainly didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship.
Five different points have helped me as I’ve pondered this situation.
Standing for God’s law while still loving and supporting those who live differently from us can seem complicated. Sometimes it feels like remaining loyal to God and His commandments means appearing judgmental if we disagree with someone’s choices.
I’ve often felt confused about how to balance law and love.
President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, spoke on this very topic at a worldwide devotional for young adults, saying: “I have previously referred to our ‘continually [trying] to balance the dual commandments of love and law,’ but I now believe that goal to be better expressed as trying to live both of these commandments in a more complete way.”1
In other words, law and love are actually interconnected and inseparable. The apostle Paul wrote, “Love is the fulfilling of the law” (Romans 13:9–10).
And Heavenly Father expects us to love everyone—including those who disagree with us. In the New Testament, the Savior taught His followers to love even their enemies (see Luke 6:27–28).
Love is God’s law, not its opposite. We should never stop loving someone in the name of following Him.
This can be a hard pill to swallow, especially when our motives for “judging” seem to come from a good place—I want my friends and family to understand the peace and joy that come from living the gospel. I want them to feel gratitude for the Savior and for what He’s done for us.
But I have to remember that I can’t force anyone to believe in the gospel or practice a certain principle. Each person has their agency.
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, then the Second Counselor in the First Presidency, provided clear counsel when he said: “We simply have to stop judging others and replace judgmental thoughts and feelings with a heart full of love for God and His children. … I will even quote a bumper sticker I recently saw. … It read, “Don’t judge me because I sin differently than you.”2
We are all imperfect and all in need of forgiveness (see Romans 3:23). I’m humbled when I remember this fact.
Jesus Christ taught that the first commandment is to love God and the second is to love our neighbor (see Matthew 22:37–39).
Like me, perhaps you know individuals who believe they must leave the Church to better love, respect, and include all people. This has sometimes made me wonder if it’s really possible to love God and love others simultaneously. The world certainly doesn’t think so.
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles offered a helpful perspective when he explained that “ignoring the first commandment, or reversing the order of the first and second commandments, risks a loss of balance in life and destructive deviations from the path of happiness and truth.”3
He provided four ways we can “put the first commandment first” so we can love others while remaining close to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ:
Keep the commandments
Serve one another and help others come unto Christ
Pray and study the scriptures
Live with accountability to God4
It’s comforting to know that I can’t go wrong if I love God first. Following His law and staying close to Him and my Savior will forever help me love my neighbors, even when their beliefs and choices differ from mine.
Now, going back to the phone call with my friend. Should I have said something more to her?
President Oaks offered helpful counsel when he said: “Whenever possible we will refrain from judging people and only judge situations. … We can set and act upon high standards for ourselves or our homes without condemning those who do otherwise.”5
When I find myself in conversations over a situation I may not agree with, I’ve decided to seek the guidance of the Holy Ghost to know how to respond. Sometimes I may feel that the right thing is to share my opinion; sometimes I may feel guided to share less. But in all cases, it is important to follow the Savior and not judge unrighteously.
My friend and I still talk about the gospel, and our openness with one another has helped deepen our relationship. Even though I don’t try to convince her of my beliefs, I still try to be an example of a disciple of Christ. Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “Each time you bear vocal witness or demonstrate through your actions your commitment to follow Jesus Christ, you invite others to ‘come unto Christ.’”6
I know that it is possible to love those whose choices we don’t agree with—it’s one of the core principles of the gospel. By following the example of Jesus Christ, I know I can love God and His children, even when it’s difficult. And I believe these same things for you too.

Nima and his family lived in Banepa, Nepal, at the base of the Himalayas, the highest mountains in the world. His people, the Sherpas, call the highest peak, Mount Everest, Sagarmatha (House of Snow).
Men and women come from all over the world to Mount Everest. They come to take pictures of it. They come to climb it and to place their nation’s flag on its summit. Climbing this mountain is a test of human strength against the rigor of the mountain.
Because Nima’s father, Mingma, was a strong and experienced porter, he was sought after as a porter and a guide. That was what Nima wanted to become too.
Other boys of twelve had already begun carrying supplies for short distances to the base camps near the bottoms of the mountains. But because Nima had been born with a twisted foot, his parents thought that he would surely be hurt or killed if he lost his balance on the mountain trail.
A week ago a party of climbers had come from the capital city of Katmandu to hire porters. How Nima hoped they would hire him! But it was no use. Even though his own father was hired as head porter and would choose the men he needed to help him, he would not take Nima.
In this expedition there were doctors and scientists who would study the terrain and ice formations, the weather, and the effect of the thin air on the climbers.
The expedition moved out of town in a long, long line. Most of the men of Banepa were needed to carry all of the supplies and equipment. Nima was left with the women and young children.
The evening after the expedition’s departure, a rumor ran through the streets that a child was sick with smallpox!
Nima’s mother went to the house of the sick child to learn if the frightening report was true. She came home looking grave. “I’m sure that the child has smallpox,” she said. “If only the expedition had been delayed! There were doctors among the men.”
After everyone else was asleep, Nima sat staring at the red coals of the fire. He saw a chance to prove his strength, but doubt haunted him. Surely his parents would have more confidence in him if he proved that he could climb the mountain trails. Suddenly Nima stood up and shook the doubts from his mind. He would not be controlled by doubts!
Just before the roosters woke the town, Nima set out with a bundle on his shoulders. He was going to find the foreign doctors and ask for help for the sick child. In one hand he held firmly a T-bar staff, the staff of the porters. And inside his bundle he had everything he would need for a long hike: a blanket, food for two days, and a container of water.
The first part of the hike was pleasant, and Nima moved along at a steady pace. Then, little by little, his left leg began to ache, and he had to stop often to rest. Finally, as the long day wore itself out, his leg and foot both began throbbing with pain. At every step, he used the staff to take the weight off his body. The temptation to make camp and lie down was strong, but he would not forget his mission. With the coming of darkness he saw the fires of the camp. He’d made it—but without the fifty-pound load he would have been carrying if he’d been working as a porter! Nima was dizzy with pain.
He found his father eating the evening rice with his friends. Quickly he told them about the sick child.
“But Nima, why did your mother so foolishly send you for the doctor?” asked his father.
“She does not even know I came,” answered Nima.
“I see.” Mingma put a hand on Nima’s shoulder. They went together to the tent of Dr. Kelly, who showed his concern as he heard about the trouble in town.
“Wait, please,” the doctor said. He went to talk with others of his party. When he returned, he said he would go back with Nima to Banepa the next morning.
Nima did not want to think about going down the same path he’d just come up. I must do it somehow, he decided, massaging his foot and leg underneath his blanket. He would not admit his agony to anyone.
Morning came too soon. But Nima got up, ate his rice, and waited for Dr. Kelly. How will I ever make it? he wondered. Truly Ihave been foolish. Not having tried shorter hikes first, this distance is unbearable.
The doctor arrived, and the two of them started down the path. As the sun rose higher and higher and the path’s descent became steeper, the doctor took off his jacket. “I need a rest stop,” he said.
Nima sank onto a stone gratefully. He was not sure he could get up again.
Dr. Kelly took some chocolate from his pack and gave Nima a piece. “You are a strong-willed boy, Nima,” he said. “I think you are in great pain.”
“I like to hike,” said Nima.
“I’m sure you do,” the doctor replied, “but I am not speaking of that. I am concerned about the pain you are trying to hide.”
“I will be a porter like my father,” said Nima.
“That is a fine plan,” the doctor said, “but if you are serious about it, you must do something about your handicap.”
Nima looked away. He did not like this talk about his handicap.
“One of the doctors with us is a bone specialist,” Dr. Kelly went on. “Perhaps I could ask him to look at your foot to see if it might be straightened with surgery.”
“No,” answered Nima. “I don’t need help. Thank you.”
But after they started again, Nima’s mind seethed with the ideas the doctor had planted. Is it possible? Can something be done to make walking easier for me, to make the pain go away forever?
A short time later Nima admitted that he needed to rest again. While they rested, Nima asked hesitantly, “Have you seen others with a foot like mine?”
The doctor nodded.
“And these others you have seen—have they been helped so that they can walk more easily?”
“Yes, Nima.”
Nima felt tears welling up in his eyes. He turned away. It was a sweet hope. But it was also a bitter thing to admit his imperfection.
Nima and the doctor had to take many rests because of Nima’s foot, and it was dark when they reached the town. “I have delayed you,” said Nima. “It is something a porter would never do.”
“But today we have walked as friends,” said Dr. Kelly. “I think, with help, that you will climb to the tops of many mountains.”
Nima’s face brightened.
“This is not my first experience with mountains,” continued Dr. Kelly. “I have climbed many. It takes physical strength, but it also takes determination and self-confidence.”
Nima nodded. He understood these things from his father.
“I think you have the necessary inner strength,” said the doctor. “Otherwise you would not have made it to our camp yesterday or back home again today.”
Nima smiled. “What is the name of the doctor who is your friend?” he asked.
“Dr. Holland,” answered the doctor. “Would you like to meet him?”
Nima looked up at the House of Snow gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Yes, please,” he said. “I truly would.”

“Would you like to be a clown this year?” Mother asked as she rummaged through the costume box. “We could paint your face all white and red.”
“No,” Jake answered solemnly. “I want my own face to show.”
“Your own face would show if you wore this cute Teddy Bear suit,” Mother suggested next.
“Uh-uh.” Jake shrugged. “I want to wear my Sunday suit.”
Mother looked surprised. She knew that Jake didn’t usually want to wear his Sunday suit anywhere besides church. Even when he’d played “Lightning Ranger” in the first grade talent show, Mother hadn’t been able to talk him into putting on his coat and tie. Instead, he’d worn a lightweight sweater neatly tucked into the waistband of his slacks.
“You could wear your suit and be a vampire,” Mother said, handing him a set of scary-looking plastic teeth.
“No way!” Jake exclaimed. “I don’t want to scare people this year, I want to be nice,”
“Magicians are usually nice,” Mother told him. “Maybe we could make a magic wand for you to carry.”
“Nah!” Jake shook his head. “I’d like to carry a book this Halloween.”
“Whatever you say,” Mother agreed, then wondered out loud if Jake was planning on dressing up like kind old Mr. Larkins, who worked at the city library.
Jake began to giggle when his mother mentioned their friend. Mr. Larkins was just about as nice as a person could be. He wore a suit to work each day, and you hardly ever saw him without some kind of book in his hand. But Jake didn’t plan to be a librarian this October 31. He had something else in mind.
“Wait a minute, Mom,” Jake said, “and I’ll show you what I want to be.”
Mother had time to put away the costume box, dust the storage shelves, and sweep half the basement floor before Jake returned. She grinned from ear to ear when she saw him standing there all dressed up in his Sunday suit with a white shirt and tie. His face was freshly scrubbed, and his hair was parted straight.
In his hand he held a very special book, and pinned right above his pocket was a black construction paper name tag with white chalk letters that read: Elder Jacob B. Adams.
“I see,” Mother said softly, brushing a happy tear from her cheek. “You’re going to be a missionary.”

Nelson and Dora Coila live on an island—not a typical island made of solid rock jutting up from an ocean or lake—but a tiny island they made themselves of nothing more than floating reeds on Lake Titicaca in Peru.
Building an island and making it your home takes faith. Only about four feet (1.2 m) of layered reeds suspends their family and the dozen or so huts on their island above the 50-degree (10°C) water, and the elements continually threaten to literally disintegrate their island home.
But for Nelson and Dora, their island represents physically what they are trying to build spiritually for their family: an island of faith that will hold together against the world.
What they have learned in the process is that the faith to build must always be followed by the diligence to maintain.
For the Uros people, who have built and lived on these islands for generations, the totora reed is an essential part of daily living. The reed, which grows in the shallows of Lake Titicaca, can be used as fuel for cooking fires. Its root can be eaten. Its husk can be used for medicinal purposes. And, of course, almost everything is made with the reed: their dwellings, their traditional boats, their watchtowers, the islands themselves, even their trash baskets.
The Uros build the islands by laying down layer upon layer of reeds. But as building materials go, totora reeds don’t last long. The sun dries them out during the dry season. Moisture during the rainy season hastens their decay. And the submersed bottom layers gradually decompose. The continual erosion of the Coilas’ island means that Nelson has to put down a new layer of reeds every 10 to 15 days.
“Building the island was just the start,” he says. “If I stop adding reeds, the island will slowly fall apart. But the more layers I put on, the stronger the island gets over time.”
Adding a layer of reeds is not complex or difficult, but it is work. Delaying it would be easy.
Procrastination, however, increases the risk of a family member putting a foot through a weak spot and ending up in cold water. That can be little more than a nuisance for adults, but it’s potentially deadly for little children such as the Coilas’ two-year-old son, Emerson.
So Nelson adds a layer of reeds today, knowing that the safety of each family member depends on it tomorrow.
It’s a lesson about diligence that has made a difference in the Coilas’ lives.
Through the Coilas’ experiences in maintaining their island of faith both literally and figuratively, they have found the rewards of diligence to be real. “Sometimes we get suffocated by the daily routine of working, cooking, and so forth,” says Nelson. “When we forget God, things get complicated. There are more problems, and things begin to fall apart.”
Nelson pauses to gesture toward a new layer of reeds he put down that morning. “If we are constant,” he says, “if we pray, study, fast, and hold family home evening regularly, we are going to become stronger.”

A few years ago, one of our young grandsons, Aaron, began having health problems. He became fatigued, had quite a bit of bruising, and did not look healthy. After medical testing, he was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia, a disease where his bone marrow stopped producing red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. Without treatment and an eventual cure, his blood could not clot properly or fight off infections, so even minor falls, injuries, or illnesses could quickly become life-threatening.
For a period of time, Aaron received regular platelet and blood transfusions to keep him out of danger. The doctors explained that the only cure for the disease would be a bone marrow transplant, and the best chance for success would be to have a sibling as the donor. If one of his siblings were an ideal match, the outcome of the transplant could be lifesaving. His four younger brothers were tested, and one, Maxwell, was deemed a perfect match.
Even with a perfect donor match, a bone marrow transplant still poses a serious risk of complications. The process required that Aaron’s own cells in his diseased bone marrow be destroyed by a combination of chemotherapy and radiation before receiving the stem cells from his brother Maxwell’s bone marrow. Then because of Aaron’s compromised immune system, he needed to be isolated in the hospital for several weeks and then at home for several months with special protocols, restrictions, and medications.
The hoped-for outcome from the transplant was that Aaron’s body would not reject the donor cells and that Maxwell’s cells would gradually produce the needed red and white blood cells and platelets in Aaron’s body. A successful donor transplant causes a very real physiological change. Amazingly, a doctor explained that if Aaron committed a crime and left blood at the crime scene, the police could arrest his brother Maxwell. This is because Aaron’s blood would come from Maxwell’s transplanted cells and have Maxwell’s DNA, and this would be the case for the rest of his life.
Aaron being saved by his brother’s blood has spurred many thoughts about the atoning blood of Jesus Christ and the effect of His Atonement on us. I would like to focus today on the permanent, life-giving change that occurs as we allow the Lord to work miracles in us.
Aaron did not have the power in himself to overcome the disease. His body could not make the blood cells needed to sustain his life. No matter what he personally did, he could not heal his bone marrow. Just as Aaron could not cure himself, we cannot save ourselves. No matter how capable, educated, brilliant, or strong we are, we cannot cleanse ourselves from our sins, change our bodies to an immortal state, or exalt ourselves. It is only possible through the Savior Jesus Christ and His infinite Atonement. “There is none other way nor name given under heaven whereby man can be saved in the kingdom of God.” It is His atoning blood that cleanses us and sanctifies us.
Although Aaron could not heal himself, in order for the transplant to work he needed to be willing to do what the doctors asked—even very difficult, challenging things. Although we can’t save ourselves, when we submit to the Lord’s will and keep our covenants, the way is open for our redemption. Like the remarkable process of the very DNA of Aaron’s blood cells changing, we can have our hearts changed, have His image in our countenances, and become new creatures in Christ.
Can you imagine how overwhelming it would have been for our young grandson Aaron to assume he had to understand and perform all the medical procedures associated with his transplant himself? We should not assume we need to do what only the Savior can do in the miraculous process of our perfection.
With medical treatments like Aaron’s, there is always some uncertainty of the outcome. In fact, Aaron needed a second transplant when the first one had complications. Thankfully, with a spiritual change of heart, we don’t have to wonder if it will happen. When we live according to His will, “relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save,” there is a 100 percent guarantee of being cleansed by the Savior’s blood and eventually being perfected in Him. He is “a God of truth, and [cannot] lie.”
The miraculous change in Aaron’s health has brought great joy to our family. Imagine the great joy in heaven as mighty changes happen in our souls.

A true story from the USA.
Thad helped Mom set the table for dinner. “Can I wear my church clothes tonight?” Thad asked. “Since the missionaries are coming to dinner?”
Mom smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Before dinner, Thad went upstairs to put on his white shirt and tie.
“Why are you wearing a tie today?” his older sister, Mindy, asked. “It’s not Sunday.”
“The missionaries are coming,” he said. “I want to be like them!”
The doorbell rang, and Thad and Mindy ran downstairs. They saw two missionaries in white shirts come inside. They sat down, blessed the food, and started to eat. Thad was careful not to spill spaghetti on his clean white shirt.
“I like your tie,” said Elder Cowley. “You look just like a missionary.”
Thad grinned. “I’m going to serve a mission when I grow up.”
“That’s a great goal!” Elder Wakefield said. “You can even start being a missionary now.”
Thad sat up taller in his chair. “How?”
“You can be a good example to others. You can serve your family. And you can be a good friend.”
Thad thought about it. “I can do that.”
The next day, Thad tried extra hard to be nice to Mindy. He helped Mom with chores. He shared his toys when a friend came over to play.
At the end of the day, Mom hugged him. “You’re going to be a great missionary someday.”
Thad gave a big smile. “I already am!”
Watch a video about this story at friend.ChurchofJesusChrist.org.
Illustrations by Melissa Manwill Kashiwagi