Gospel Story Finder

Photographs by Cody Bell
Michelle was born with VACTERL association with hydrocephalus. “This means she has a lot of health problems,” say her parents. “But when Michelle hears there is something to be done, she will find a way.”
When President Nelson asked the youth to help gather Israel in 2018, Michelle T. of Oregon, USA, paid close attention.1
Then she decided to answer the challenge.
Almost immediately, however, she faced obstacles. Michelle wanted to get started with indexing, yet even with her membership number handy, she couldn’t sign up. Not with her parents’ help, and not with her grandparents’ help (and they are very big family history pros!).
Even after going into the nearby family history center, things still weren’t working. This, by the way, is highly unusual! Normally it’s a fairly straightforward process. When the volunteers at the family history center finally got Michelle up and running, they looked at her and said, “You must be meant for great things in family history, because you’re facing a lot of opposition right from the start!”
She has indeed gone on to great things in family history. In fact, a video she shared during RootsTech 2021 ended up being the #1 watched video from the conference. She has an inspiring story to tell! And it’s only gotten more inspiring since then.
Michelle can’t speak, so she uses text on her phone to communicate.
At first, Michelle decided to do a batch or two of names each Sunday evening. She joined a video call with her grandparents so that they could help teach her the ropes.
“It was hard!” she says. “Cursive is hard!”
However, she was not going to be intimidated. Michelle kept at it. As she started learning more and getting better, she decided to set a goal for indexing 1,000 names in 2019.
After hitting that goal, she set a much more ambitious goal for 2020—especially after the pandemic hit and she had more time available. She was soon indexing as many as 1,000 names each month!
As she kept indexing, bit by bit Michelle began noticing something interesting in her life—things were just simply getting better.
“I started noticing differences in my life,” says Michelle. “I felt healthier. I was kinder to my family. I felt calmer and more peaceful. I was happier! I wanted to do more good things. I felt the Spirit so much stronger! Indexing wasn’t just helping me, it was helping others.”
Michelle enjoys sewing and baking for her family. “It’s so fun to see them enjoy all the things I help create,” she says.
One of the other good things that began happening was an increased ability to focus on her other spiritual goals. “I was reading the scriptures more, especially the Book of Mormon,” Michelle says. “I also started studying my Sunday church lessons each week before class so I could be prepared for the discussions. Learning about my family history has become very important to me along with visiting the temple.”
I began to feel so much peace.
Life can be hectic. Lots of stuff can get in the way! But Michelle has learned the blessings that come from carving out enough time to do family history work. “When I started indexing, I began to feel so much peace,” she explains. “Then my family started noticing the peace I felt and it started flowing into the rest of my family. Our whole home just felt more calm and peaceful, and it is amazing. Jesus Christ is the source of peace. By doing the work that I have been called to do, I received a blessing of peace, the type of peace only the Savior can give. The best part is being able to share that blessing with others.”
Michelle loves teaching others how to do family history.
Clearly, Michelle has felt the blessings firsthand of how indexing blesses her life. She also has a testimony of how her efforts can also bless many other lives on both sides of the veil.
One experience she likes to share to teach this point is that her grandmother had been looking for a specific ancestor for a long time, without any luck. Then a few years back, somebody indexed the name of this family member. That’s all it took for Michelle’s grandmother to be able to find this ancestor at last!
“That story really motivates me,” Michelle says. Small steps connect many dots and bless many lives.
Is it easy to get started and find time for family history? Well, no. At least not usually. Most of us are going to have to shift a few things around in order to make some time. But here, too, Michelle has some tips to get going.
Michelle’s Family History Tips
“Be patient with yourself.”
Sometimes we think we need to learn and know how to do everything from the beginning. It’s not true. We can take our time to figure things out.
“Start small.”
Someone recommended in the beginning that I do a batch or two every Sunday evening. This was a small and easy goal. That made it doable and so much less overwhelming.
“Try multitasking.”
I learned to combine indexing with other things I love. Listening to music and audiobooks or doing video calls with my grandparents are things I do while I index.
“Keep it simple.”
With all the different things that can and need to be done, we can start thinking it is just too hard. That is when I start thinking about focusing on one step at a time, little bit by little bit.
Want to Help Michelle?
Michelle has inspired a lot of people with her story. And they in turn have wanted to help her. You see, sometimes Michelle has medical treatments for her unique health challenges that require her to take a break from indexing for a time.
A few people got together and decided to form an indexing group on FamilySearch so they can help index for Michelle to make up for those times when she’s unable. Anyone can join. If you want to help out, head over to FamilySearch.org and then look up the “Michelle Thornton” indexing group.

I had always wanted a dog, a big dog that could be my friend and help me out when I needed it. Sometimes a kid like me needs some help because the other kids don’t always understand me. You see, they think I’m a little different because of my leg. I have one leg that’s shorter than the other one, and right now I have to wear a brace.
It’s real hard dragging a stiff old brace around with you all the time. Sometimes the kids call me Peg Leg or Hopalong. They think it sounds funny, but it sure doesn’t make me feel very good. And when we play at school, I’m always the last one chosen on a team—if I’m chosen at all. Sometimes I “get to be” the referee or the umpire, but that just means I’m supposed to stand around and watch the others play.
Dr. Monroe says I’ll get my brace off in a year or so after an operation and some therapy, but that doesn’t help me much right now.
Brother Lewis has a dog named Lady. Lady’s an Alaskan malamute, and she has five pups. Brother Lewis said that for fifteen dollars I could choose the pup I wanted.
Now, fifteen dollars might sound like a lot of money for a dog, but Lady’s pups aren’t just ordinary dogs. They all have pedigree papers, and Brother Lewis is going to sell the rest of them for a whole lot more than fifteen dollars.
When I first saw Lady’s pups, I knew which one I wanted. He was white and gray with lots of fur, and he was the biggest one. I decided I’d call him Major. I’d already saved over fifteen dollars, so I was just waiting for Major to grow a little bit so I could take him home with me.
I don’t have a lot of friends. That’s why I wanted Major. Pamela Roundy says she’s my friend, but she’s just a girl who lives down the street and is always hanging around. The thing that really bothers me about Pamela is her dog Lolo. Lolo’s just a mutt. Pamela doesn’t even know what kind of dog she is. She doesn’t have any papers, so she can’t be very special.
Lolo had pups a week before Lady did, and since Pamela knew I wanted a dog, she asked me if I wanted one of Lolo’s. She said I could have one free, so right away I figured that those pups weren’t any good.
On the day I was to pick up Major, I raced home from school as soon as the bell rang. Then I put my money in my pocket and went over to Brother Lewis’s house.
There was Major! He was bigger than his four sisters, and he sure was pretty. I paid Brother Lewis the money and started home. Major ran beside me for a while; then he took off and began sniffing at flowers, digging in the dirt, barking at everybody who passed, and chasing butterflies. He was fun to watch, but it made me sad that Major wanted to play with everything but me. I guess that’s what important dogs do.
When I got to Pamela’s place, she was out with Lolo and her four pups. They were as ugly as Lolo, and I told Pamela so, but she said looks didn’t matter. She said the thing that was really important was how good a friend your dog was.
Well, one of her ugly pups started following me and Major home. He wasn’t nearly as big and strong as Major, and I could tell by the way Major sniffed him and chewed his ear that he didn’t like that scrawny pup either. But that dumb dog of Lolo’s didn’t care; he just kept right on following us, flopping along and tripping over his own nose.
“Go home, dog!” I shouted at him, but he didn’t pay any attention to me. “Call your old dog back!” I yelled at Pamela. “I don’t want him hanging around me and Major. He’s probably got fleas, and he’ll teach Major bad habits.”
“There’s nothing wrong with him, Travis,” she said. She had a big grin on her face, and she thought it was pretty neat that that pup liked me.
“There sure is something wrong with him,” I called back. “He’s the ugliest dog in the world. And he doesn’t even have any papers.”
“I think he likes you, Travis.”
“I don’t want him to like me!” I shouted. “I have a dog—a good dog.” I picked that pup up and carried him back to Pamela and dropped him in her lap. “Here,” I said. “Keep him till we get home. I don’t want your mutt hanging around me.”
I could tell right away that Major was going to be a good dog. When he grew up and had big teeth, no one would bother me any more, even if I still had my brace on. And when the kids at school chose up teams, they’d have to pick me, or I’d get Major after them.
Every day after school I went home to play with Major and to teach him some tricks. But he didn’t want to play with me or learn tricks. In fact, a lot of times he wasn’t even home. He’d be off chasing around in the park or digging in Brother Bradley’s orchard. One day he dug up Mom’s petunias. Another time he chewed the finger off my baseball mitt. Mostly I had to just watch him. But he was still a good dog. He had papers to prove it.
Every day when I came home from school, that ugly pup of Pamela’s would be waiting for me. I’d cross to the other side of the street to miss him, but he’d come barking after me. He’d jump up on my leg and try to lick my hands. He ran circles around me and made a real nuisance of himself. Whenever I sat on my lawn to watch Major play, that old pup would be right there, nipping at my ears, jumping against my back, or pouncing on my fingers. Sometimes when I lay down, he’d poke his head under my shirt and try to crawl inside to get warm. Nothing I could do would keep him away. I yelled at him and pushed him aside, but that didn’t stop him. He just didn’t know when he wasn’t wanted.
After school one day I couldn’t find Major anywhere. I called him and looked behind the bushes where he liked to sleep. I even went over to Brother Bradley’s orchard, but he wasn’t there. I looked along the streets to see if he’d been run over, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.
That night when I said my prayers, I asked Heavenly Father to help me find him, because I needed a friend. I just didn’t know what I’d do without Major.
The next day was Saturday. All day long I looked for Major. Sister Miller, who lives two streets over from us, said that she saw a dog like Major running with another dog toward the Cherry Heights subdivision. I went there and looked, but I couldn’t find him.
I usually don’t cry. Even when Doctor Monroe took off the cast from my first operation, I didn’t cry. But when I couldn’t find Major, I didn’t know what to do, so I sat down behind the bushes where Major used to sleep, and I cried.
That’s when Pamela’s ugly pup came snooping around. “Get out of here, dog!” I yelled. “I sure don’t want you hanging around me.” I kicked at him, but he just thought I was playing, so he got real happy and started chewing on my shoe. I pushed him away, but that just made him friskier than ever. Finally, I crawled out of the bushes and went into the house. When I came outside a while later, that old dog was still there sitting on the step, waiting for me.
Every day for a week I came home from school and went out into the bushes and sat and thought and wished that I could get my brace taken off so I wouldn’t need a dog. And every day Lolo’s ugly pup came snooping around to see if I would play with him. Sometimes I did because I didn’t have anything better to do, but most of the time I just tried to get rid of him.
About two weeks after Major disappeared, I passed Pamela’s house, and she was sitting on the lawn, crying.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her.
She just sat there and sniffed for a while, and then she said, “Daddy said that when he comes home from work, he’s going to take Lolo’s pup to the vet and have him put to sleep. I can’t have two dogs because they eat too much. I gave all the others away, but no one took this one. Don’t you want him, Travis?”
Her eyes got real big, and she was excited all of a sudden. “He’s the one that really likes you, Travis, and you don’t have a dog now. Don’t you want him? Then he won’t have to be put to sleep.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want a dog like that. He’s just an old mutt.”
“But he’s a good friend.”
“But he’s sure ugly.”
“But he can be a real good friend. You don’t have to be pretty or have papers to be somebody’s friend. He can be a better friend than Major ever was.”
I shook my head again and started home. And guess who followed me—Pamela’s ugly pup. “Go home, dog!” I shouted. “I don’t want you hanging around. You aren’t good for anything.” He didn’t understand, though. He kept tagging along.
I went into the bushes to think, and that ugly pup came right into them behind me. He lay next to me and put his head in my lap. Then he looked up at me real sad-like. Usually he was happy, but this afternoon he must have known what Pamela’s dad was going to do to him. I tried not to look at his sad eyes, but I couldn’t help it. Finally I scratched his ears and said, “Nobody wants you hanging around, either, do they?” He thumped his tail on the ground a couple of times and licked my hand.
Just then Pamela started calling him, and I could tell by the way her voice was shaking that her dad had come home. I came out of the bushes, and the dog followed me. Pamela didn’t say anything to me. She just reached down for the pup. But he ran away from her and hid behind me.
“Is your dad here?” I asked. She nodded and wiped her eyes. “Is he still going to take the pup to the vet?” She swallowed and nodded. I reached down and picked up Lolo’s pup and held him close. I could tell he was my friend because he started to lick my neck and nibble on my ear. I wanted a friend real bad, and I’d asked Heavenly Father to help me find one. Now I knew He had.
“Pamela,” I said, “tell your dad that he doesn’t have to take him to the vet. I guess I’ll keep him.”
“You will?” she said with a grin. “He doesn’t have any papers, you know, and he’s just a mutt.”
I nodded my head without looking at her. “I know, but I don’t have any papers, either, and like you said, you don’t need papers to be friends. You just have to like each other. Well, he likes me and I guess I like him, so we’ll just stay together.”
And we did.

Recently we had a lesson in teachers quorum, and our leader asked us, “What is a quorum?” I’d had lessons about this before, but this time I felt the Spirit telling me the message was important and I needed to listen and apply it.
We answered that a quorum is a group of priesthood holders who rely on each other and stick together. The instructor explained that quorum members have a responsibility to help and lift each other. He then showed us a video about a ward in Florida that started with just one young man who invited his friend, who then invited a friend, who then invited a cousin, etc., until there were 26 active young men in the ward.
Our instructor stopped the video and asked, “How many members of our quorum aren’t here today?” We listed six or seven. He asked if we had any idea why they weren’t at church. After we had given our answers, he asked, “Who has reached out to one of these boys to ask why he doesn’t come or to let him know we miss him?” I raised my hand, thankful that I had just had a conversation with one of these quorum members in the past week. However, it struck me that I’d had the conversation with only one quorum member—not six or seven.
Our leader continued, “A quorum helps each other out, right? So then doesn’t it make sense that we would all want to help each other to be here and to be working toward the same goal of eternal life?” I really pondered that question, and I suddenly felt a responsibility, as president of my quorum, to get my missing quorum members back to church and activities.
We decided as a quorum to focus on helping each quorum member come unto Christ. I want to help them feel the happiness of participating in the gospel because I know that it brings me so much happiness. I felt prompted to put more time and energy into helping my quorum members—that’s my duty as a priesthood holder and quorum member. I also felt strongly that, as president of the quorum, I have priesthood keys for a reason. Heavenly Father trusts me to help my brothers.
I am thankful that the Spirit spoke to me so strongly and directly during the lesson. Now I’ve committed to act on the prompting I received to be a better leader, friend, and disciple of Christ.

Clay said quietly, “I ran the marathon today. Twenty-six-point-two miles. It was a killer.”
“You should have told us!” Mom said. “We would have come to cheer you on.”
He looked at me. “I thought about what you said about praying. The whole time I was praying that God could help me understand why Ryan died and help me know that he wasn’t gone for good. Near the end of the race, I was the only one in front. I don’t even remember passing the other runners. It was like Ryan was running next to me, saying, ‘Go for it. You’re gonna win. Listen to your feet; keep up the rhythm; keep up the pace.’ And I won. I think I understand now. Ryan was like a sprinter. His race was quick, over in a few seconds. The rest of us are going for distance, though we don’t know when our own race will end.” His eyes filled, and he rubbed them with the back of his hand.
His voice dropped. “Ryan’s alive. His spirit is still alive.”
Elder Martin turned to Clay. “You’re right. You will see him again and be with him.” His eyes shone.
Elder Weiss said, “Hey, Clay, you’ve inspired us to start running every morning. What if we come by here on our way and pick you up? We can do some running together, and you can give us some pointers.”
Clay nodded. His breathing had slowed. He looked more healthy and alive than he’d looked for a long time. “Yeah, sure. That’d be okay.”
I watched the elders pedal away, smiling and talking like brothers, their long coats flapping behind them, ears already red with cold. Even though they wore dark suits, they seemed as bright as our flowers against the dull sky. Part of the pattern was becoming clear to me, and I knew those two young men would be connected to our family forever.

Simon had had enough! Joe and Bob had been bragging about their pets all afternoon. Joe had two large German shepherds and a furry hamster, and Bob had a calico cat and six goldfish.
Simon didn’t have any dogs, cats, hamsters, or fish. But he did have a secret. “Come outside,” he said. “I’ll show you my pets.”
“What pets?” asked Joe.
“You don’t have any pets,” Bob scoffed.
Without answering, Simon led them into his backyard. He took them all the way to the back fence, which was overgrown with ivy. He jiggled the fence, then waited, listening, and jiggled it again. The leaves rustled.
Joe and Bob watched wide-eyed as a large brown lizard scooted out of the ivy and took refuge in the tall weeds by the garden shed.
“That’s one of my pets,” Simon told them. “His name is Leonard. He lives right here in the ivy and takes care of himself. I don’t even have to feed him. Mom and Dad are glad we have him, though, because he eats bugs.”
“Lucky you,” said Joe. “My mom doesn’t like lizards. If one shows up in our yard, she chases it away.”
“So does my cat,” Bob sighed.
“Come and see my next pet,” said Simon, glad that his friends liked his first one.
He led them to a shady corner of the yard where the ground was moist. “This is Oliver,” he said, pointing at a small, spotted toad sitting on a mossy rock. “He eats insects too.”
The boys watched with interest as Oliver took three short hops.
“My third pet lives over here,” said Simon, heading for the corner of the garage. He pointed up at the eaves. “That’s Edith.”
A large brown spider hung in the middle of a filmy web. “You should see her web at night,” said Simon. “The moonlight makes it shine. You can come over some evening to see it,” he offered.
“I’d like that,” said Joe.
Bob nodded his agreement.
“I have one more pet to show you,” said Simon.
He took them to the peppertree and pointed up into its spreading branches. “You have to look very carefully, or you’ll miss her,” he told them.
Peering through the leaves, the boys saw a small, gray bird sitting motionless on a nest.
“I call her Penelope,” Simon explained. “She chose our yard out of all the yards in the neighborhood for her nest. She knows she’s safe here; we won’t hurt her. Her eggs are almost ready to hatch. I’m going to watch the babies grow and learn to fly.”
“Boy! I wish a bird would build a nest in my yard,” said Bob, with a wistful sigh,
“A bird wouldn’t feel safe in your yard,” Joe pointed out. “Your cat would scare it.”
“I know,” agreed Bob glumly. “Will you let us see the baby birds when they hatch, Simon?”
“Sure,” answered Simon, “as long as you don’t get too close. We don’t want to scare them.”
“Hey, Simon, whenever you want to visit my cat or watch my goldfish, let me know,” offered Bob.
“And you can play with my dogs and hamster, too,” Joe added promptly.
“Thanks!” said Simon. “And you can come to see my pets anytime you want to. It’ll be fun to share my secret pets with my friends.”

Raymond was discharged in June 1961, and I was discharged later that year. I often wondered what had happened to my old friend.
One day many years later, in 1990, while looking out the window of my home in the state of Washington in the United States, I spotted two nicely dressed young men. They were missionaries for the Church, and I invited them in. After talking with them a little while, I found out that Raymond’s hopes had come true: President Spencer W. Kimball had received a revelation in 1978 directing that all worthy males could receive the priesthood. I was elated. After receiving the missionary lessons, I agreed to be baptized.
About this time I told a neighbor, also a member of the Church, about my friendship with Raymond. I had no idea the neighbor would go to Utah and actually find Raymond. Two weeks later my old friend “Milkshake” drove more than 1,000 miles (1,600 kilometers) to speak at my baptism. He said he always knew I would join the Church.
In December 1997, I got a call from Raymond’s daughter, telling me he had passed away. I was saddened by the news, but I smile when I think of the reunion Rocky and his friend Milkshake will someday have on the other side of the veil.

If you’ve read the first verse of the Book of Mormon, you already know something about 17-year-old Juan Ordoñez and his 15-year-old sister, Mayra, of the Pachitol Ward, Patzicía Guatemala Stake.
Juan, Mayra, and their seven older brothers and sisters were “born of goodly parents,” who have passed on skills the family needs to survive, such as the family trades of farming and tortilla making, as well as the language of their ancestors, Cakchiquel.
But those aren’t the only ways their family is like Nephi’s. Juan and Mayra have parents who understand that it is as important to pass on a “knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God” (1 Nephi 1:1) as it is to pass on physical survival skills.
While many teens don’t have Lehi- and Sariah-like parents to pass on the gospel (see sidebar on page 13), for Juan, Mayra, and others who do, the question is: Will we be Nephi-like learners, who listen, apply gospel truths, and pass them along as well? Or will we be like Laman and Lemuel, who heard the same information but didn’t want to find out the truth for themselves and couldn’t pass it on?
Juan can’t remember how old he was when he started working with his dad in the fields. “The children would start going with me when they were small,” Juan’s dad, Joel, says. “They learned by watching and then doing what they could, depending on their strength and capacity.”
Mayra learned to make tortillas the same way, watching her mom and sisters until she was old enough to pitch in and help.
But plowing, planting, and tortilla making aren’t the only things being passed from one generation to the next. As Mayra’s mother, Carmela, molded and shaped tortillas, she was also giving shape to her daughter’s character. As Brother Ordoñez prepared, planted, or cultivated the ground, he was doing the same for Juan’s heart.
As the family spent time together, the children could see not just how their parents worked but how they lived. And when the opportunity arose, their parents made the gospel a topic of conversation while they worked.
But observing—and even doing—isn’t always enough. In the Book of Mormon’s first family, Laman and Lemuel heard the same things that Nephi heard from their father, and they too even went and did what their father asked. But they were missing something important, something that Juan and Mayra have—a desire to learn.
Juan and Mayra live in Patzicía, a Cakchiquel community a few hours from Guatemala City. Because many of those who buy their tortillas and seek their plowing services don’t speak Spanish, it was important to Juan and Mayra to learn Cakchiquel.
But not everyone feels that way. Cakchiquel isn’t taught in the schools. The language has been passed down from generation to generation for hundreds of years. However, in each succeeding generation there are many who don’t want to learn it or feel they don’t need it.
As their children grew, Brother and Sister Ordoñez often wondered if their children would listen. Would they obey? Would they want to know, like Nephi? Would they pass the gospel on to their children?
It may be too early to tell. But Brother and Sister Ordoñez have reason to hope.
Their older children are starting to pass gospel truths on. And the younger children are recognizing the importance of passing the gospel on too. “It’s hard sometimes to take counsel from your parents,” Juan says. “But I’m grateful for their help.”
“They didn’t just teach me how to cook beans and make tortillas,” Mayra says. “They have taught me the right path—to follow God.”

“This is crazy,” I shouted, even though I was sure nobody could hear me. To my right, not more than a couple of feet away, water thundered over an 80-foot drop. Crawford was below, camera on tripod, motioning for me to get still closer to the falls.
Our Varsity Scouts were camping near Silvermoon Falls. I’d asked Crawford to serve as official overnighter photographer, and he’d eagerly accepted. Now it was Saturday morning, and much to the delight of the other boys, Crawford had talked me into hiking to the top of the falls so he could get my picture.
He waved me over again. I shook my head no. He made a face and flapped his arms at me in mock disgust. Then he stepped around his tripod and set the timer. A few seconds went by, and I smiled and tried to look serene, despite the roaring water. Then the boys broke into a cheer and signaled for me to climb down.
“Are you guys trying to get a new adviser?” I huffed after arriving. “You could be more subtle about it. And when do I get to see the picture?”
“At the right time,” Crawford said with a wink. “At the right time.”
Crawford’s on a mission now, in Germany. I get a kick when I think of size 15 feet on cobblestone streets. It’s a difficult mission, no doubt. But Crawford will succeed. He knows who he is.
And on my desk is a photo he gave me when I was released as teachers quorum adviser. It’s a photo of me at Silvermoon Falls, trying to look calm while balanced on a rock next to the rushing water. Next to me is the stream, narrow and hard-running, no different than dozens of other streams. Then it shoots over the cliff and becomes a waterfall, a thing of beauty, a thing of power, a thing of inspiration.
I think about the waterfall and I think about Crawford. It seems to me that in many ways, they are almost the same.

Life is not always easy for the three boys. Sometimes bad things do happen, and the boys have learned to depend on Heavenly Father to help them.
One morning a few years ago, Sister Lopez was taking her children and four of their cousins to school. On the way, they were in a very serious accident. The children weren’t hurt, but Sister Lopez broke her neck.
The doctors in Guatemala City did what they could for her, but eight months later she became very ill. The doctors said that she needed neck surgery and that afterward she would be in a wheelchair the rest of her life. The family prayed, and Sister Lopez decided to call some of the young men in the United States who had lived in their home as missionaries. One of them was studying to become an orthopedic surgeon! He said, “Come to Provo, and let us do the surgery here.” One of his teachers agreed to perform the surgery, and a family offered to care for Sister Lopez until she was well enough to return to Guatemala.
On the day of the surgery, it was hard for the rest of the family to not know how the surgery was going. They all prayed a lot on that day. Benjamin in particular prayed that his mother would feel good again and would still be able to walk. When they called her that night, she said that the operation had gone well and that she still had the use of her legs!
“I was recovering in Utah for three months,” Sister Lopez said. “Everyone helped me a lot, but it was hard to be so far away from my family.”
Isaac remembers well the one time the family got to see her before she came home. “We drove for five days to get to Provo to see Mommy. It was a very long drive, but it was worth it!” Sister Lopez recovered and returned home. The family is grateful to Heavenly Father for taking care of her and making it so she could walk.

In October of 1986, I turned on the television and leisurely switched from channel to channel. General conference from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City was on one station. I heard the speaker say, “And the gospel will be taken to the gentiles of the earth.” That really interested me—I was of Jewish origin, and had never been called a gentile before. I listened intently as the speaker said things I felt I had heard before and had always believed.
When the speaker referred to a living prophet, my eyes filled with tears. All my life I had wondered, “Where are the prophets?” After listening carefully to the conference broadcast for twenty-five or thirty minutes, I ran next door to share my excitement with my mother-in-law. She was shocked when I told her I had been watching the Mormon conference. I was surprised when she said, “You don’t want to listen to that.” Back home, I turned on the television and watched the rest of the broadcast.
Afterwards, I was so excited that I wrote a letter to my mother to tell her that the Mormons had a prophet. Then I visited my friends, Will and Petera Powell, who were members of the Church. My first question was, “How could that speaker call me a gentile?” Luckily for me, Will and Petera were both returned missionaries; they answered all of my questions. They also gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. By the time I finished reading First and Second Nephi, I knew the Book of Mormon was true. I read it from cover to cover in two weeks.
A few days later, I began the missionary discussions in the Powell’s home with the full-time missionaries. During this time, the Spirit of the Lord bore testimony to me of the truthfulness of the words the missionaries spoke, just as recorded in 2 Nephi 33:1 [2 Ne. 33:1]: “For when a man speaketh by the power of the Holy Ghost the power of the Holy Ghost carrieth it unto the hearts of the children of men.” The doctrines I learned seemed familiar. I had believed in the principles of family history, family tradition, and unity all my life. However, what impressed me the most was that there was a living prophet on the earth today.
When the missionaries asked me if I was ready for baptism, I said, “Yes!” I was baptized on 8 February 1987 by Will Powell. For me, a person with Jewish heritage, the news of a living prophet has truly changed my life.

There were some pretty strange pageants. The year that Mom was pregnant, she pulled out the slip of paper that said she had to be a Wise Man. My father drew out Mary. He said it ended up being the most moving Christmas pageant for him, even though most of us kids thought it was pretty funny. He said he had begun to understand what it meant to be Mary that year. And even at 14, I got pretty choked up when my pregnant mother appeared to give her gift to the baby Jesus. David was born that January.

I remember well the afternoon a few years ago when I went up in an airplane with an instructor for a lesson on flying using the control panel instruments only with no reference to the surrounding countryside.
It was a crystal clear day, though a few gusty winds were blowing. We left the field, flying due north into a chilly wind blowing directly against us. When we reached the right altitude, the instructor put a special hood over my head so that all I could see was the instrument panel. After an hour’s lesson we stopped in an airport about a hundred miles north to eat and make another check on the weather.
It was early evening when we climbed into the airplane for our return flight. Both of us were a little nervous because a small storm was moving into our flight path, and as we climbed toward the clouds we could feel the increased power of the winds. Now we would have an opportunity for some real instrument flying.
I wasn’t really worried until the instructor told me to put on the hood because I was going to fly us home. As we flew into the storm, the weather started tossing us around. But the instructor assured me that things were well under control: all I had to do was fly by the instruments just as I had done in practice, and follow his directions.
As the minutes went by and we flew deeper into the turbulence, a terrible fear began to grip me and I began to feel a dizziness as if the airplane were in a turn, slightly diving. Panicking, I started making what I perceived as corrections to our flight. My instructor had to tell me four times that the instruments were correct and that I should trust them, not my own judgment.
After several more minutes of agony and constant reassurances from my instructor that the instruments were indeed telling the truth, I couldn’t take the suspense any longer and tore off the hood to see for myself. When I looked through the window, all I could see was the rain streaking out of a pitch-black sky at us. My face went pale, and a terrified expression swept over me.
My instructor said, “Norman, you’ve been sitting here for twenty-five minutes with a clear signal and true instruments to follow, but you’ve steered off course thirty-two times and have dropped the airplane nine hundred feet in elevation. Now you really don’t know where you are. Let me show you something.”
He took the controls and with little effort started climbing up through the clouds. Eight hundred feet later we were above the tops of the clouds that were glistening under the light of a beautiful full moon. In the near distance on the side of a hill we saw two large red lights on top of a broadcasting tower. On the other side of that hill through an opening in the clouds we could see a faint green and white airport light flashing out a signal that to us meant home.
After a safe landing, I felt that I had been taught one of those great lessons we are sent here to earth to learn: that the Lord gives us fine instruments, a good strong signal, and many clear markers, and still we sometimes stray from their indications and fall into a sea of confusion. Yet if we will trust those signals and follow them, whether we fully understand them or not, we will be able to fly above the clouds, safe and secure, knowing our course and our destination.

On another occasion two of our elders, rather young and inexperienced, had gone to open a new city to missionary work. The city was almost totally Catholic and was reportedly under the domination of the Catholic bishop who lived there. As these elders went about their work, making contacts and becoming acquainted, people frequently said to them, “Does the bishop know you are here?”
They would answer, “We don’t know.”
“Well, it will be interesting to see what happens when he finds out.”
One day the trouble came. A priest came to their lodging and delivered a letter. It said in substance, “We would like to know by what authority you come into this community and teach your doctrine without having first cleared it with the bishop of this area. Therefore, we ask you to appear at a special meeting that will be held at the central Catholic church.”
The elders called mission headquarters.
“President, what should we do? Can you come and help us?”
I answered, “No, I can’t come, but they have offered you an invitation to explain what we believe. That is what you went there for, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but how do we handle this situation?”
I said, “I’ll have my assistant join you. Accept the invitation, but do it on two conditions. Say, ‘We’ll be glad to come if we are treated with courtesy and if you will assure us the opportunity to explain what we believe.’”
In the meeting, the priest in charge, without any formality, stood up and said, “These two young men are here teaching their religion, and we have called you together to hear an explanation of their doctrine.” There were two or three hundred people present representing the influential people of the city.
The elders then stood up and spoke of the Apostasy, the Restoration, and the Book of Mormon. As they finished, they said, “If you people will read this Book of Mormon and pray about it, the Lord will give you a testimony.” A priest in the rear of the hall immediately jumped up and said, “Oh, no, no, no. None of you can read that book.” Everyone laughed. The only problem occurred after the meeting when a Seventh-day Adventist got into an argument with one of the priests. Our elders, on the other hand, had several very pleasant conversations. From then on they caused no problems by proselyting in that city.

Kerry Smith grew up on a sheep ranch in Idaho and helped her father care for their lambs. She remembers that sometimes they would get their heads caught in the wire fencing or fall on their backs in a ditch. “Sheep are absolutely helpless on their backs. They can’t roll over without some assistance. That’s what makes them easy to handle and to shear, but it can also kill them,” she says. “We watch for any that might be in trouble and run to their rescue.”

Shepherds and leaders watch for those in trouble and help them get back on their feet. Kerry puts it this way: “Because we each have weaknesses Heavenly Father can help us ‘get up off our backs’ and resume our lives. Though we must always do our part, He is our protector. He gave us the perfect example of His Only Begotten Son, who is always watching, always guiding, always our Shepherd.”

Ten-year-old Alexandra and her family are grateful that the missionaries were able to come to their country. Several years ago the missionaries knocked on their door, and her grandmother invited them in. Because of that contact, Alexandra, her parents (Rosa and Arnaldo), and her brother (Victor), as well as her grandmother joined the Church. When Alexandra attended a Latter-day Saint meeting for the first time, she felt more comfortable there than she had at any other church. Later, when she was baptized, she knew that it was the right thing to do. Alexandra knew that she could gain exaltation and return someday to Heavenly Father and Jesus.

My friend Annika had been hanging out with me and my other Latter-day Saint friends for a few years. Because she spent so much time with us, she learned many things about our standards and what we believe in.
One night I was texting Annika about the gospel and decided it was the perfect opportunity to share my testimony with her. I also felt like I should invite her to come to church. I was a little nervous that she would say no, but I knew that I was doing the right thing and that it would be OK no matter what. I texted her my testimony and asked her to come to church, and she said yes!
The Sunday that Annika came to church, we were studying about the Godhead. She already knew most of the other youth in the class, so we all worked together to help her learn. If she didn’t understand something, we tried to explain it to her. This led to great discussions where most everyone was commenting. Because so many people were sharing ideas, Annika felt comfortable asking questions and got to hear pieces of her friends’ testimonies.
During the lesson, Annika was overwhelmed with joy and peace because she felt the Holy Ghost. She learned that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings, and she learned a little bit about the plan of salvation. She also learned that Heavenly Father loves us so much that He sent His Son to earth to die for us, and she learned how much Christ loves us, because He atoned for us.
At the end of the lesson, my Sunday School teacher invited us to go home and look up scriptures that could help us learn more about the Godhead. I completed this assignment. Later, during a discussion with Annika and the missionaries, I talked about the scriptures I found.
It was a wonderful experience to watch Annika learn about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost. It made me realize how many people don’t know about the Godhead. Just like Annika and I did, we can all grow closer to Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost when we learn more about Them.

John usually raced downstairs when Mom called him for family home evening, but tonight he was already sitting on the couch when Mom came in the living room. The smell of Dad’s brownies had teased him in, but that wasn’t the only reason for his smile. Every week at family home evening, Mom read the latest e-mail from John’s brother David, who was serving a mission.
“Did David talk about his wrist this week?” John asked. Last week, David had mentioned that he had been in a bike accident and might have broken his wrist.
“Let’s find out,” Mom said.
“Dear family,” she read. “The doctor says my wrist is definitely broken. The broken bone is pushing other bones in my wrist out of alignment. I will probably need surgery. I am not in pain, and it is not swollen. It just is very broken.”
Mom kept reading. David had written about his companion and the people he had taught, but John’s mind was still on his brother’s wrist.
“Mom? Can I say family prayer tonight?” he asked when Mom finished.
“Sure,” Mom said.
The family knelt for prayer, and John made sure he prayed extra hard for David.
When they had brownies, John felt a little better, but he was still worried about his brother.
During the next week, John spent a lot of time praying for David. The next Sunday at dinner, Mom had an announcement.
“David is going to have surgery this week,” she said. “But the doctors are concerned because this type of injury is difficult to heal. They aren’t sure it will heal properly after the surgery.”
“Will David be able to finish his mission?” John asked.
“I’m not sure,” Dad said.
John stared at his plate. As much as he missed his brother, he didn’t want David to have to come home from his mission.
“Dad and I have an idea,” Mom said. “I know we’ve been praying for David, but we’d like to have a special fast for him.”
“A special fast?” John asked.
“It wouldn’t be on fast Sunday, and we would ask our friends and family to fast and pray that the surgery will go well.”
“We think you’re old enough to fast, so you can fast with us if you’d like,” Dad said.
“I like that idea,” John said.
A month and a half later, after a difficult surgery and several weeks in a cast, David sent an e-mail.
“Dear family, my wrist is an interesting story, especially the reaction from my doctor. He couldn’t find any sign of the fracture! He took lots more X-rays and told me that the bone had completely healed and that he didn’t need to put me back into a cast. My doctor isn’t a member of the Church, but he said my healing was a miracle. It’s incredible how all those prayers really worked.”
John leaned over Mom’s lap to read the e-mail for himself. “The fasting helped cause a miracle, didn’t it?” he asked.
Mom nodded. “The fast and all those prayers.”

BOOM! BOOM!
It was three o’clock in the morning, and the city was being bombed. One minute Grace had been asleep in her bed, and the next, Dad was telling everyone to get under cover. Now Grace was huddled under the kitchen table with her dad, mom, and younger brothers, Heber and Alvin. She could hear the rumble of explosions and glass shattering outside. It was so loud!
“What’s going to happen to us?” Grace asked Dad.
Dad stroked her hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “But let’s say a prayer.”
The Vlam family held each other close.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Dad prayed, “please keep our family safe.”
After a while, the noise quieted down. There were no more explosions. They were safe!
Mom took Grace’s hand and smiled at her. “Remember when we were sealed in the temple?”
Grace nodded. When they had moved from Indonesia to Holland, they were able to stop in Utah and be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple.
“Whatever happens, God will take care of our family,” Mom said.
The next day, Grace heard air-raid sirens when she was outside on the city plaza. She looked up and saw planes above her head, with little black things falling from them. She stood there, staring, her mouth wide open.
A man started shouting at her. “Run! Those are bombs!”
Grace raced home, her heart pounding as she finally made it safely through the front door.
A few days later, the Nazis—who were the government leaders of Germany—officially took over Holland. Because Dad had been an officer in the Dutch military, the Nazi officers watched him carefully. Sometimes the Nazis took people who had been military officers as prisoners.
But that won’t happen to Dad, Grace thought. We’re members of the Church, and Dad is a leader in the mission presidency. God will protect him.
After the bombings, the Vlam family had to leave their city. One day at her new school, Grace heard other students whispering.
“Some people were taken prisoner today!”
“Will they ever come back?”
Grace was scared. Was Dad OK? She ran home as fast she could. As she burst through the door, she saw Mom in the hallway.
“Is it true?” Grace asked. “Is Dad gone?”
Mom didn’t say anything, but Grace knew from Mom’s sad eyes that Dad had been taken away. He was a prisoner of war. Grace leaned against the wall. She was too afraid to even cry.
What do we do now? she wondered.
At that moment, Grace heard a voice say, “You will see your father again.” The voice was calm and clear. Grace knew it was the voice of the Holy Ghost. It made her feel a little better.
She didn’t know exactly what would happen, but she did know that Heavenly Father would take care of her and her family.
To be continued …

The second story is about an intelligent secondary school girl named Joan. Joan was admired by her friends. She was given a scholarship to a well-known university far from her home. When Joan came home for Christmas that first year, her Latter-day Saint friends were a little concerned about her. When they asked her how she managed to maintain her standards among so many who didn’t have the same standards, she answered, “I used to try to explain that I didn’t smoke or drink because my church taught me not to. I finally got tired of all the explanations. Now I accept the drink, but I don’t drink it. I just walk around with the drink in my hand and finally pour it out somewhere.”

The end of this story is easily guessed. Before long, Joan left the Church. She had failed to decide ahead of time how she would react under pressure, and so she had to continually make the decision at the time of each experience. Unfortunately, the steady influence of those around her plus the pressure of her new environment was too much for her.

Lisa and Joanne Church are new Nauvoo residents. Their father is the temple engineer. They have a strong connection to both this temple and the one built last century. “My great-great grandpa Hayden Wells Church left his home in Tennessee and came to Nauvoo,” says Lisa, 17. “He heard the missionaries sing and was so impressed.”
“He came here and was baptized by the Prophet Joseph,” adds Joanne, 14. “It was hard for him to leave his home behind and come to Nauvoo. He’s such an example to me. His testimony made me want to come here and see the things he saw and share the feelings he felt.”