Gospel Story Finder

Long rows of the finest vegetables grow in the rich desert soil of southern California’s Imperial Valley. Fine people grow there, too. One of them is Darla Miles (9) of El Centro. El Centro is 45 feet (about 14 m) below sea level, but Darla’s goals are as high as the land is low. She loves the San Diego California Temple on the other side of the mountains and plans to be married there someday. In the meantime, “I want to go to college and get a good education. Then I want to go on a mission like my tía (aunt).”
Darla’s mom, Alma Puga, and her dad, Blake Miles, were both single parents when they met, fell in love, and married. Blake was the father of Jordan, and Alma was the mother of Pedro, Daniela, and Gabriela.
Later, when Darla was born, she became another strong bond binding two families into one.
Darla is easy to get along with and eager to make others happy. If a plateful of cookies is swiftly disappearing, she is sure to take one—not for herself, but for her dad. She is a natural peacemaker, and a little bit of a matchmaker, too. She often grabs her mom’s hand and puts it on her dad’s hand. Other times, she’ll write her mom a love note as if it came from her father, and then write a note to her dad from her mom.
If she should have a disagreement with a brother or sister, she’ll ask, “Will you forgive me?” Then, she says, “I’ll draw something for them or write them a note. If Mom and I are unhappy with each other, I’ll write a note to her and ask a brother or sister to give it to her. Then she will write a note back to me, and we’ll get together.”
These same tender feelings reach to heaven. “I love Heavenly Father because when I can’t find something or when I cry or when I’m scared or feel really bad, I pray and He helps me a lot. When somebody else is sad, something inside me tells me to go do something for him or her. One time, my sister couldn’t find a library book. She was sad because she thought she would have to pay for it. I prayed for her, and then I found the book. I’m thankful for my great mother and father and all the things Heavenly Father has made for us.”
She likes learning about some of those creations in school. A good student, she especially enjoys reading and math. She stays ahead of her grade level in most subjects and usually gets 100 percent on spelling tests.
Darla is responsible for dusting, cleaning her own room, and taking care of her many small fish, all of them named either Cheetah (boy fish) or Xena (girl fish). Without being asked, she has started feeding Marcy, the family dog. Sometimes she also takes care of Mizzy, the neighbor’s pup who thinks she belongs to the Miles family and keeps digging under the fence to join them.
The whole family enjoys reading, especially the scriptures. Darla received a set of scriptures when she was six years old and immediately began reading the Old Testament.
They are all musical, as well. Darla plays the piano, as do her brothers and sisters. Everyone enjoys camping, too. They often camp among pine trees in the mountains or go four-wheeling on nearby sand dunes. One year, the family went on a trip to Washington, D.C., and Church history sites without once staying in a motel. They were plagued by mosquitoes but enjoyed the wonder of fireflies. Darla’s favorite part of the trip was visiting the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, New York.
The Mormon Battalion came through the Imperial Valley in 1847. The family often joins a hike retracing a part of that historic trek. Darla has been three times on a nine-mile (more than 14 k) segment of the hike, which takes place at night to escape the fierce summer heat.
When she was eight, Darla was baptized by Jordan and confirmed by her dad. “I felt good,” she recalls. “I felt clean.” At the baptism, Brother Miles demonstrated how not to pray for inspiration, using a telephone as a prop. He picked up the receiver. “Hello. Good-bye,” he said and hung up. He explained that it isn’t enough to ask for help. We must also listen for the answer.
Christmas is Darla’s favorite holiday because it celebrates Jesus’ birth and because she likes to make presents. On Christmas Eve, her mom lets her stay up late to make pictures for everyone in the family. She gives them out on Christmas morning.
The family really celebrates two Christmases. They celebrate a “Rubio Christmas” on Christmas Eve. The Rubio Christmas includes a large, extended-family fiesta with piñatas, singing, and such delicious foods as homemade tamales and menudo soup, Darla’s favorite. Menudo is made from cows’ intestines. Tamales are made with meat, potatoes, olives, and seasonings wrapped in cornmeal and steamed inside corn husks. They are far better than the canned or plastic-wrapped tamales in stores. Another Christmas favorite is champurado, a drink made with chocolate milk and coarsely ground meal.
On Christmas morning, the immediate family members exchange gifts the American way. Then they enjoy an American Christmas dinner of mashed potatoes and gravy, yams, and turkey with cranberry sauce. The season is twice blessed by the two cultures.
Above all, Christmas and every day is blessed by Darla’s love for Jesus Christ. “Jesus is my Friend and my Savior.” Just as the waters of the Colorado River make it possible for crops to grow in this desert, His gospel has helped Darla grow into the wonderful person she is.

Out of the darkness of the early morning came eight rafts of various shapes and designs with their youth crews and supporters. It was the annual raft race for the Auckland New Zealand Harbour Stake, and the first of 12 races was underway.
Races were varied, including combined young men/young women teams and a leaders team. A good day was had by all with the Takapuna Ward young men regaining top prize, the Title of Liberty Challenge Shield.
Work on the Takapuna Ward raft started five months earlier as their deacons, teachers, and priests spent many hours splitting bamboo, heating and bending it into shape, and then lashing every crossbeam. More than 5½ miles of twine (9 km) was used to tie over 3,000 knots—all of which held the raft together. When all the lashings were completed, it was time to stretch the canvas over the frame.
The young men and women helped sew the canvas at the top. Then it was painted and left to dry. Practices were held at every opportunity if the sea at Takapuna Beach was smooth enough and everyone got in the racing mode. All the boys and girls got closer together, and a really strong brotherhood and sisterhood was formed.
One thing teachers quorum president Hunter Amende learned from all the hard work and paddling was, “There is no I in team.”

Many years ago, on a waiting shed along EDSA, 11-year-old Cynthia Timario and her siblings helped their father earn a living selling candies and newspapers. “We were very poor,” she ecalls, “and we all had to help for us to survive and support our daily school expenses.”
During her elementary school graduation, instead of celebrating, Cynthia’s father announced very sad news: “He told me that he could not afford to send me to high school anymore, because there was no money and if ever he would have some, I would not be a priority because I had brothers that he also had to send to school.”
Instead of resigning herself to her lot, the young girl resolved to find ways to achieve her goal to continue her schooling. “I did not know how to do it,” Cynthia remembers, “but I promised myself that I would send myself to school no matter what it takes.”
Cynthia enrolled in high school and found ways to support herself. Opportunities arose even as a student, and she found employment as a factory worker, which helped her enter Far Eastern University (FEU) in Manila. Although she found a better-paying job as an office worker, high tuition fees forced Cynthia to transfer to Polytechnic University of the Philippines (PUP) where she was able to graduate.
After graduation, Cynthia embarked on another goal along her personal EDSA: she had discovered the gospel of Jesus Christ and chose to follow the road to eternal life by being baptized. From a little girl on a waiting shed, this woman pursued the highway to happiness—and it all started by setting goals.
“Heavenly Father wants us to progress because He wants us to succeed,” Cynthia Timario- Pelobello shares. “He gives you guidance from the Holy Ghost, the scriptures, and living prophets…You will learn from your experiences, especially when you rely on Jesus Christ and His Atonement. We are on earth to progress, to be tested, to grow, and to rely on the Savior.”
The gospel of Jesus Christ provided the further guidance and direction Cynthia needed in her life. For Filipino Latter-day Saints today, the Philippines Area Presidency recently launched the 2021 Area Plan which aims to provide guidance and direction to Church units, families, and individuals in setting worthwhile goals.
As we start a new year, what goals have you set along the EDSA of your life?

Once while serving as a mission president in Kentucky, I was faced with a direct conflict on family activity and Church activity. The Kentucky Derby was soon to be held, and our family had looked forward to going for weeks. Three days before the big event, the schedule for the Lexington Stake conference was shifted one week forward, and the Saturday leadership meeting was now scheduled for Derby Day. As mission president, I was invited in a midweek phone call from the visiting general authority to be at those sessions.
In the conversation, I told the leader about my previous plan and asked him his opinion. He replied, “Sometimes we just have to choose.” And that is all he said.
What would you have done?
Church work often requires that fathers be away from home. But by setting proper priorities, planning, and delegating, a father can organize himself to be effective in church duties and to be home much more often than he would suppose.
Some fathers who spend undue amounts of time in church callings are proud of these long hours away from home and consider them a sign of dedication. Often it is dedication, but in some cases it is just a way of not going home. Some fathers feel more capable in activities away from home than they do with their families. We should examine ourselves to see if, under the guise of “dedication,” we’ve left to our wives the most important of all causes to which we should be dedicated—our families.
Some feel that if they devote many hours away from family to their church duties, the Lord will compensate by ensuring that all will be well at home. But fathers who are faithful in the Church can and sometimes do have critical problems at home, and one reason may be a lack of father-family experience.
On the other hand, a father who feels successful at home comes out of that home filled with the spirit of love. His heart has been warmed by the home fires of his own family, and he is then able to warm the hearts and souls of his brothers and sisters. A man who devotes sufficient time and energy to family activities and who likewise is dedicated to the Lord and building his Church receives the Spirit of the Lord. It is the Spirit and not endless hours at Church activities away-from-home which brings success in church work.
In my opinion, some Church planning and leadership meetings are far too long. I was once asked by a Church leader, “Are you as a leader punctual in conducting meetings?”
I said, “Yes, I always start meetings on time.”
He said, “But are you punctual?”
I answered again the same way, “We start on time.”
He asked me the same question again, and as I sat looking perplexed he said, “I know that you begin your meetings on time, but do you end them on time?” He added, “End the meeting at the appointed time and let people go home to their families. Those who neglect the appointed quitting time are as much in error as those who neglect the beginning time.”
Sometimes a father will excuse himself for not being home enough by saying, “It isn’t the quantity but the quality of time spent that matters.” There is some truth in this statement for some people, but we must not use it to soothe a conscience that tells us we are too much away from the family.
When I was called to be a mission president, I was fearful that at a most critical time in the lives of my eight children I might not have sufficient time to be a good father. I had determined that being a father was as important a call from the Lord as being a mission president. That meant that even though I would dedicate myself to the mission, I would have to double my dedication as a father.
With that in mind, one of my first important tasks was to tie a big rope to a high limb on the huge ash tree that grew in our front yard and make a swing. With the swing came instant neighborhood friends for our younger children.
A few months after our arrival, we attended a mission presidents’ seminar. Each president was asked what he felt was the best idea he had put into practice so far in his mission. When my turn came, I said, “The best thing I’ve done so far is to build a swing.” Everyone laughed. I described the swing and explained that my major goal was to be a good father and that the swing was my symbol of this priority. The leader sustained my action.
I’ve found that I allow more time for my family if I remind myself that playing with the children is church work. While I was mission president, I would often go to a beautiful amusement park with my family. I would just walk around the park with a smile on my face, holding hands with my children, eating candy.
Once in a while, the thought would enter my mind. “You’re the mission president. You’d better get back to the office.” But then I’d smile again and say to myself, “Well, I’m doing my church work here. I’m with my children and my wife. We’re having a fun day, and tonight I’ll be able to write in my journal that I did six hours of glorious church work today.” I’d eat a little more candy and let the children lead me wherever they wanted to go.
Church work with your family doesn’t mean you leave other church work undone. It merely means that you do both—and you can do both. Some days you can spend a whole day with the children. Other times it will have to be a ten-minute wrestle or one paper airplane constructed after the evening meal.
Some years ago I was serving as a bishop. At the same time I was working on a doctor’s degree at a university and working a full-time job. I was under some strain, fearing that because of my desire to succeed in so many areas I was really failing as a father.
One Sunday evening I stayed late at church to complete some work. As I walked into the chapel to turn off the lights before going home, I suddenly felt lonely. I felt that my back would not bear for another day the heavy burdens I was carrying.
I fell to my knees near the pulpit and cried to the Lord. I poured out the feelings of my soul to him and described in detail my seemingly insurmountable tasks. When I finished I remained kneeling. And then I heard the Spirit speak to me in my heart. The answer it gave me was all I needed. It said just three things: Go forward. Do your best. Love your family.
I arose a new man.
Since then, whenever specific conflicts have come up between my family and church work, I’ve remembered those words and followed the advice given me years ago in Kentucky by a great Church leader—“Sometimes you just have to choose.”
Perhaps the only mistake we really make is when we choose one way over the other all of the time.

Jordan hadn’t seen his sister Kirsi for over a year—it felt like forever! Soon she’d be coming home from her mission to have surgery. Jordan was sad that she was sick, but he was happy that they’d be together soon.
When he came home from school the next day, Kirsi was sitting on the couch. Jordan ran and hugged her.
“Hi, Jordan! I missed you!” Kirsi said.
Jordan smiled. “I missed you too! I’m sorry that you’re sick.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Kirsi said. She was holding the Book of Mormon in her lap.
“Can I read with you?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go get your Book of Mormon, and we can start at the beginning together.”
Jordan ran to his room and grabbed his copy. “Got it!” he yelled as he ran back. He scooted in next to Kirsi.
They opened to the title page. “The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” Jordan read. They took turns reading.
“On my mission I studied the scriptures with my companion every day,” Kirsi said. “Would you be my study buddy until it’s time for me to go back to my mission?”
“Yeah!” he said.
A few days later, Kirsi had her surgery. She came home from the hospital to rest and heal for a few weeks. She and Jordan studied the Book of Mormon together every day.
Before she went back to her mission, Kirsi said, “Jordan, I want to challenge you to finish the Book of Mormon before you are baptized.”
Jordan thought about that. His eighth birthday was only a few months away. He would have a lot of reading to do. But he wanted to do it. “Yes,” Jordan said.
“As you read, will you pray and ask if it’s true?” Kirsi asked. “Moroni promised that if we do that, the Holy Ghost will tell us that it’s true.”
“OK,” Jordan said.
By the time Kirsi went back to her mission, they’d reached 2 Nephi together.
Jordan really missed Kirsi. He especially missed being her study buddy. But then he got a great idea!
At school the next day, he walked over to his best friend Jake’s desk.
“I’m going to read the whole Book of Mormon before I get baptized,” Jordan said. “Since we’re getting baptized on the same day, do you want to do it too?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I’ve never read the whole Book of Mormon before.”
Every day at school, they asked each other the same question.
“How far along are you?”
“The end of Jacob. How far along are you?”
Soon they didn’t even have to ask the question anymore! They gave each other a look, and they knew the question.
“I think we’ll finish just in time for our baptisms,” Jordan said.
Finally the day of their baptisms came.
“I finished last night,” Jordan whispered.
“Me too!” Jake said. “And I prayed to know if it was true, and I felt really warm and happy.”
Jordan smiled. “Same. I felt really happy when I prayed.” He was so thankful for Kirsi’s challenge. Now he was building his very own testimony.

Meg wanted to be perfect. She brushed her hair until it was perfectly shiny. She kept her hands perfectly clean. She kept her clothes perfectly neat.
Meg didn’t like messy sandboxes. She hated it when one shoelace was longer than the other. And she really didn’t like dirt. Playing tag looked like fun … but she might mess up her hair or get her shirt dirty!
On Meg’s birthday, her mommy and daddy gave her a special gift. It was a puppy! He was tan with white paws and soft brown eyes.
“Oh, I love him!” Meg said. “I’m going to call him Mittens.”
The next day, Meg played with Mittens in the yard. She threw the ball over and over again. They had so much fun. Then Mittens jumped into Meg’s lap. With dirty paws!
“Eww!” Meg yelled. “Mommy! Mittens got me dirty!”
Mommy came outside. She gave Meg a hug. “Puppies are messy,” she told Meg. “I know it’s hard for you. But I hope you can have fun with Mittens, even if it means getting a little dirty.”
Meg looked down at Mittens. She wanted her clothes perfectly clean. But she also wanted to keep playing with her puppy. She loved him!
“I guess it’s OK to get a little messy sometimes,” Meg said.
Days went by. Meg kept playing with Mittens. Sometimes he drooled a little on her clothes. Sometimes he drooled a lot on her clothes! After a while, Meg worried less about the mess. Mittens was fun to play with! He was always happy to see her.
Soon Meg started trying other new things. She waded in the lake with her family. She played in the sandbox. She played tag at recess.
One day, Mommy even had to remind Meg to change her dirty clothes! But Meg didn’t mind. Things didn’t need to be perfect for her to feel happy.

It was really late, and my sister was asleep, but I was still up reading. I held my book and flashlight under the covers. If Mom or Dad came to see if I was still awake, I could switch off my flashlight, close my eyes, and they’d never know I wasn’t really asleep.
I just couldn’t put my book down yet. It was full of scary stories, and I had to know what happened next.
Scritch, scritch. I jumped. What was that sound? It was coming from my window. It sounded just like in the story I was reading, where a girl was hiding from a ghost in her house.
I shivered as the sound came again. Scritch, scritch, meow. I slowly let out my breath. It was just our cat scratching the window. Maybe it was time to put the book down and go to sleep.
I stuck my bookmark between the pages and hid the book under my pillow. Then I switched off the flashlight. Now it was totally dark. The bed creaked as I rolled over. What was that shadow in the corner? Had that been there before?
I pulled the covers up over my head and tried to fall asleep. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl in the story. What would I do if a ghost was in my house?!
Ghosts aren’t real, I told myself. It’s just a story. I kept telling myself that, and finally I fell asleep.
The next day was a book sale at school. I’d been saving up my chore money for weeks. When it was my class’s turn, I went straight to the scary stories.
At the bottom of the stack was a book with an old picture of a creepy house. “I bet it’s haunted,” I told my friend Julia. I tucked it under my arm and found two other books to try.
That night I started my new books. I read straight through the first one. You had to read scary stories fast. If you thought about something scary for too long, it just made you more scared.
But the next day, as I started reading the book with the haunted house, I did stop to think. I’d been reading scary stories for days. I’d hardly set the books down. I’d hardly even left my room. And my brain was full of lots of scary things. I thought about ghosts and people getting lost in the woods and monsters that tricked and ate you. All that stuff made me scared—even while sitting in my safe room with the sun shining through the window.
I set my book down and took a deep breath. These books didn’t make me happy. They didn’t make me feel good. I was sad about lots of things, and these books just made me feel worse.
I closed my eyes and leaned against my bed. Dear Heavenly Father, I prayed, I don’t think these scary books are very good for me. Please help me know what to do and to be strong enough to do it.
When I opened my eyes, I looked down at my new books. “I don’t need these,” I said. It was time to find something that made me feel happy, not scared and sad.
Turn to page 20 to find some great books to read!
I picked up the books and pulled the rest of my scary stories off my shelf. It was a lot of books. But I carried them all to our recycling bin. I felt much lighter as I dumped them in.
And when I walked away, I didn’t look back.

I would like to tell you about the St. Charles Ward and how they friendshipped and nourished Brother Jim Hueston. Jim belonged to another church, but he found it was hard to obtain transportation to attend meetings. No one picked him up. I had the good fortune to meet Jim. A Book of Mormon was given; a commitment was made to read and pray. Our members provided transportation for Jim to come to the St. Charles Ward. The missionaries taught the discussions, and Jim read and prayed.
At Jim’s baptism, he asked me, his bishop, “What do you want me to do?” I took Jim to my office and talked about the Church, teaching him about the priesthood and what the Lord would have him do as a member of the Church. He received the Aaronic Priesthood and was assigned to serve as a home teacher. The elders quorum president assigned a strong, faithful, diligent home teaching companion. Brother Hueston, as the newest member of the St. Charles Ward, made sure that his home teaching was completed. Not only for that first month but for the past 20 years he has completed his home teaching every month. He has served in many different callings, and serving as a stake missionary was one of his favorites.
Ward members wrapped their arms around Brother Hueston and made sure that he was a fellow citizen “with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). Jim learned to drive and bought himself a car so that he could do his home teaching and any other callings he received. We are not sure if we kept him or he kept us “in the right way” (Moro. 6:4). We know that what President Hinckley is asking us to do now was accomplished then with Brother Hueston.
I talked with Brother Hueston this summer. He told me how he and his home teaching companion were helping a less-active member come back into activity. He said, “She is looking forward to taking the temple preparation class and going to the temple.”

When I got baptized, it was a special time. I felt really good—I’d never had a better day. I learned more things than I ever had on a Sunday. I felt really different when I came out of the water. I knew all of my sins were washed away.
That day I was given a journal to write my feelings and thoughts in. I asked ward members to write in it, too. They wrote that they are happy to have me in the Church and that they are proud of me for choosing the right.
I chose to follow Heavenly Father’s commandments and be baptized. That made me feel happy.
Neil Cain, age 8Belle Fourche, South Dakota

I witnessed a powerful example of this principle recently as I sealed a stately young couple in the Salt Lake Temple. After I had performed the sealing ceremony and they had exchanged rings and embraces, I asked them to share their feelings with those who were present. The new bride spoke first. Her brief remarks reflected both gratitude and emotion as she told how from her very youngest years she had desired to keep herself virtuous and had hoped to find a companion who shared her values and righteous aspirations. She confirmed the goodness of her new husband by witnessing that he was all she had hoped for and more.

Then the young man spoke. He, too, was tearful as he shared how at age fourteen he had inexplicably begun to pray to the Lord, asking that the wife of his future, whoever she might be, would be protected and would keep herself virtuous while preparing for an eternal marriage. He also told how he had committed himself again and again over those years to that same path. Then he expressed his great joy at having met this wife of his prayers and at his high hopes for a truly exceptional marriage. I am not a believer in predestined love, but I do believe that truly good people in due time will usually find other truly good people to marry. I also believe such people are worth waiting for. Virtue loveth virtue! Truth embraceth truth!

The home screen of my tablet shows apps in order of recently opened to last opened. As I was looking through it one day, I noticed that my scripture app was last. I thought nothing of it, but several weeks later I was on my tablet again and realized that I hadn’t read my scriptures in a while. I decided to start reading them again. Since then I have been studying and reading my scriptures every day. It has definitely helped me grow spiritually. I have a testimony now that the scriptures are true and that they can help me get through hard times. So, now every time I go into my tablet, the first app it shows isn’t a game with enraged birds or a video app but my scriptures!

When I had been on my mission in Germany about a year, I was assigned to work with a brand new missionary named Elder Keeler, who had just arrived fresh from converting, so he thought, all the flight attendants on the plane from New York to Frankfurt. Within a few days of his arrival, I was called to a meeting in another city and had to leave him to work in our city with another inexperienced missionary, whose companion went with me. I returned late that night.
The next morning I asked him how his day had gone. He broke into an enthusiastic smile and said he had found a family who would surely join the Church. In our mission, it was rare to see anyone join the Church, let alone a whole family. I asked for more details, but in his excitement he had forgotten to write down either the name or the address. All he could remember was that the family lived on the top floor of a big apartment house. “Oh, that’s great,” I thought to myself as I contemplated all those flights of stairs.
He also explained that he knew so little German that he had exchanged but a few words with the woman who answered the door. But he did think she wanted us to come back—and he wanted to go find her and have me talk to her that very minute.
I explained that the people who don’t slam the door in our faces do not necessarily intend to join the Church. But off we went to find her, mostly to humor him. He couldn’t remember the right street, either, so we picked a likely spot and began climbing up and down those endless polished staircases.
After a frustrating hour, I decided I had to level with him. Based on my many months of experience, I said, it was simply not worth our time to try any longer to find her. I had developed a tolerance for the realities of missionary work and simply knew more than he did about it. His eyes filled with tears and his lower lip began to tremble. “Elder Hafen,” he said, “I came on my mission to find the honest in heart. The Spirit told me that that woman will someday be a member of the Church.” So I decided to teach him a lesson. I raced him up one staircase after another until he was ready to drop, and so was I. “Elder Keeler,” I asked, “had enough?” “No,” he said. “We’ve got to find her.” I began to smolder. I decided to work him until he begged to stop—then maybe he would get the message.
Finally, at the top of a long flight of stairs, we found the apartment. She came to the door. He thrashed my ribs with his elbow and whispered loudly, “That’s her, Elder. That’s the one. Talk to her!”
So I did.
Not long ago, my wife and I were with this woman’s family in the Frankfurt Germany Temple, where the father, now a temple sealer, performed the marriage for their youngest child and her husband. It was a sacred moment for all of us. Earlier he had been a bishop, and the mother was a Relief Society president. Three of their four children have served missions. All four have married in the temple. They are raising righteous families and contributing their strength to the wards where they live. Their lives reflect the fruits that grow from 40 years of living the gospel.
That experience is a lesson I can never forget about the limitations of skepticism and the tolerance for ambiguity that comes with learning and experience. I hope that I will never be so aware of “reality” that I am unresponsive to the whisperings of heaven.

Mary Titcomb, a librarian at the Washington County Free Library in Maryland, had a problem. She believed that everyone should have the fun of visiting a library and selecting books to read. Because this was impossible for most farmers and their families, who lived far out in the country, Mary decided that the library would go to them.
She designed a “traveling library,” a horse-drawn wagon that held 250 books. It made its first run in 1905, driven by the library’s janitor, Joshua Thomas. The new book wagon, with its shelves on the outside and storage cases inside, looked like a cross between a grocer’s delivery cart and the black hearse of the village undertaker. In fact, some of the farmers called it the “dead wagon” and didn’t want to use it at first. But their fear didn’t last long, and soon Joshua was covering sixteen different routes through five hundred square miles of territory and was welcomed by the people that he served. It took him four days to make just one round-trip with the library’s first “bookmobile.”

One hot summer day, Reesey and Cheyenne invited Zara over to play. Mum made a snack. The girls sat at the table to eat.
Mum sliced mangoes from their mango tree. She put apple slices and grapes on a plate. Reesey looked at the delicious food. She remembered to say a prayer before eating her snack. She asked Zara, “Do you pray at your house?”
“What’s that?” Zara asked.
“Like this,” said Cheyenne. She folded her arms and bowed her head. She asked a blessing on the food. When she was done, she said, “See? Like that. Easy!”
“We don’t do that at our house. We just eat,” said Zara.
Reesey had never thought about not praying. “Mum,” she said, “do we have to say prayers?”
Mum smiled as she carried cups of ice water to the table. “We like thanking Heavenly Father for what He has given us. We’re going to keep saying prayers. But it’s OK if other people don’t.”
Reesey knew Mum was right. She was happy when her family prayed. Maybe praying would make Zara happy too. “You could try it,” she said to Zara.
Zara smiled. “Maybe I will,” she said and ate a slice of mango.
“I like it when we pray,” said Cheyenne.“It makes me feel happy inside.”
Reesey and Cheyenne were happy they could tell their friend about praying. They all finished their snacks and ran back outside to play.

When our daughter Aris submitted her recommendation form to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, my wife and I prayed fervently that she would be called to serve in a safe place. Every parent desires the safety of his or her children, even as we strive to trust in the Lord’s will. We never imagined the series of tender mercies that would soon be manifested.
Over the years, our family has been blessed through temple covenants, and our children have been raised in the light of the gospel. As my oldest daughter prepared to serve a mission, my wife and I were nervous and excited, wondering where she might serve.
The long-awaited day came for my daughter to open her mission call.
“Dear Sister Ledesma,” she read, “you are called to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Your assignment is to work in the Hawaii Laie Mission. It is anticipated that you will serve for 18 months. …”
At first, we wondered: Hawaii? We had never heard of someone from the Dominican Republic going to serve on a mission in Hawaii. But then a wave of excitement and relief came over us. Our prayers had been answered. Hawaii seemed like a safe and quiet place for our daughter to serve, especially given the turmoil in various parts of the world. We were immensely grateful. However, as we took in the news, we began to realize this calling involved more than just physical safety: It was a deep, personal testimony of the Lord’s hand in our lives.
Whether by coincidence or divine design, the missionary who shared the gospel with me many years ago is from Hawaii and resides in the Laie Mission. The missionary who taught my wife the gospel was also from Hawaii and still lives there. Either way, it was a blessing for us.
I contacted Brother Underwood, the missionary who taught me, and told him about what had happened. Days later, we talked on the phone. He said, “I have been thinking about this more over the last two weeks and thinking what a blessing it will be to meet her and have her bring the gospel to my home island as I brought it to your island. What a blessing. She’ll be like a little girl of mine as long as she’s here.”
Last September, my daughter was serving in the Laie Third Ward, where Brother Underwood was baptized and grew up. He was very happy to visit his old ward and see my daughter, Sister Ledesma. When he saw her, Brother Underwood was filled with joy, realizing that the opportunity to share the gospel with me over 25 years ago had paid off—generations had been changed.
What were the possibilities? It became clear that this was no ordinary mission call. The Lord had prepared our daughter to serve in a place that had special meaning for our family—where missionaries who had changed her parents’ lives lived. It was a tender mercy, a beautiful manifestation that the Lord was aware of our family and His involvement in our lives.

This gathering of Latter-day Saints at BYU brings a shared commitment to Karl G. Maeser’s feeling that education should shape both the head and the heart.28 Two years ago I taught a young woman in an introductory class in the mechanical engineering program. She was eager to learn and to take advantage of all that BYU has to offer. Since that course she has dropped by my office from time to time to keep me updated on her classes, activities, and plans for the future. During her time as an undergraduate student, she involved herself in the research project of a faculty colleague in another department. Not long ago this young woman approached her bishop about the possibility of receiving her temple endowment and began to prepare herself. When the time came for her to enter the temple, neither her father nor her mother was able to join her. Among those few whom she invited to share with her that first temple experience were her BYU research faculty advisor and his wife. Where else but at BYU could such associations be cultivated and where else could a student turn to a faithful faculty member to share in such a sacred experience? I would call that inspiring learning.

On the last night of a soldier’s service, the soldier and his friends would drink a lot of alcohol and have a rowdy party. I thought and prayed about what I should do when my last night came. When it did, I told the group of soldiers serving with me, “Let’s do something that has never been done before.” We dressed in our best suits and went to say a quiet good-bye to our army leaders. Our major couldn’t believe it. I felt that Heavenly Father had guided me to find an answer to my problem. Looking back, I can see that the greatest blessings in my life have come by following the counsel of prophets and keeping God’s commandments.

Every home has times when a peacemaker is needed. President and Sister Eyring have four sons and two daughters. Once when their children were young, President Eyring was teaching a family home evening lesson about peace. While he was teaching, he noticed that two of his little boys were kicking each other! But as those two boys grew older, they learned how to be peacemakers and became each other’s greatest friends and helpers.

I conclude by reading from a letter I received from a convert to the Church who, after the required waiting period, took his family to the holy temple of God for a sealing ordinance. He wrote:
“We love this church and we love the Lord and our Heavenly Father. We were on the verge of a total family failure when some of our LDS friends here began to work with us.
“Even now as I sit here and think back to Saturday, I have to be amazed at the way the Church has changed our lives, from almost total family loss to an eternal family! …
“Nothing can compare to seeing my wife and child dressed in white, with a radiant glow around them, and feeling the very Spirit of God whisper in my ear, ‘John, they’re yours for all time and all eternity.’”

In the final semester of my senior year in high school, Ms. Keller replaced Mr. Potter as our American government teacher. She was full of new ideas, one of which she explained on her first day of class. “People are more important than books and tests.” She interrupted our applause to add, “That doesn’t mean we won’t use books and have tests, but it does mean that I want everyone to get to know each other as individual human beings right from the beginning.”
For our first assignment we had to present ourselves to the class in a creative way. “Open yourselves up to us,” she said sitting atop her desk. “Let us know what’s really important to you and your life.”
Great, I thought. One of the important things in my life had just dumped me—said she couldn’t date me anymore—and she was the last thing I wanted to talk about right then. She was a Mormon, and for reasons I didn’t yet understand, she let her religion come between us to end what I thought was a beautiful relationship.
Anyway, after racking my brains for several days, I finally decided on a presentation I was sure would impress Ms. Keller.
On the day our presentations were due, I showed up to class carrying a large grocery sack. In it was one shoe of every kind that I owned. When it was my turn, I set my unpaired shoes on the table in front of the class and, ignoring the odor jokes from my buddies in the front row, began to explain how my various shoes represented, not only me, but also what was important to me.
Lined up across the table like a row of used cars were one of my football shoes, a basketball shoe, a track shoe, a running shoe, a shoe I played racquetball in, a house slipper, a shoe I wore to school and when I hung out with friends, and, last of all, a shiny but slightly dusty wingtip, a shoe that I wore to church—when I went. I talked about sports, home and family, friends, school, and church and explained why they were important parts of my life.
The next student, Jimmy, set two books on the table, a long rectangular one and a paperback. “This is my Book of Remembrance,” he said holding up the long one. “It’s a record of me and the important events in my life.” He flipped it open and showed us photos, charts, and certificates, stopping every once in a while to explain one and why it was significant.
Finally he set it down and picked up the paperback. “This is the Book of Mormon,” he said. “The way I live my life, the things I believe, and the things I hope for—they’re all based on this book.”
“Oh no,” I thought as I slid down in my chair, “a goody-goody Mormon. These guys are so corny.”
Jimmy spoke for a few more minutes, finally ending with a catch in his voice, “… and I know it’s true. I know it’s true.” He paused for a moment to gulp down his emotion. “And I’m glad I know.” As I watched him walk back to his desk, I noticed that a few students around me were teary eyed.
I didn’t know for sure, but I guessed they were Mormons too. The few times my old girlfriend had dragged me to her church, I noticed that Mormons liked to say they knew this and knew that and that they often got teary eyed when they talked religion. Normally I would have shrugged off a presentation like Jimmy’s as cornball religious stuff, but that day, for some reason, it didn’t seem so corny. Instead, it made me curious. Why could they say they knew their church was true when at best all I could say about mine was that I believed in it?
I watched them after class talking quietly together on their way out the door. How can they know? I wondered. How can they?
A month or two later, I was up in my bedroom, alone, not particularly troubled or unhappy, but thoughtful. In the top drawer of my desk lay a paperback copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, a parting gift from my former Mormon girlfriend.
Thinking of her, and recalling Jimmy’s presentation and other conversations I’d had with LDS kids, I pulled the book out and began reading. Maybe it would help me understand why they could talk about knowing their church was true.
The opening pages contained Joseph Smith’s story of his first vision, and as I read it, it struck me that this man, or boy, or whoever he was, was telling the truth. While I experienced no blaring trumpets or burning bosoms or bright lights or heavenly messengers, his story was quite simple and plain and logical to me. I set the book down on my desk and felt a surge of quiet confidence, a feeling I now recognize as the Holy Ghost, confirm what I had just read.
Such sudden and sure knowledge startled me because I realized that if Joseph Smith’s story was true, the church he founded must also be true. As I pondered my newly discovered testimony, I knew that I’d have to do something about it, though I wasn’t sure what. I decided that tomorrow I’d give my former girlfriend a call and tell her I knew what she and her friends knew and ask her if she had any ideas what I should do next.
Well, she had plenty of ideas, and the busy weeks of missionary discussions, fasting, and prayer that followed only served to confirm what I had first realized after reading Joseph Smith’s story one spring afternoon in my bedroom: It’s true. I know it!