Gospel Story Finder

On the morning of September 12, 2005, Keone and Naomi Kamauoha welcomed a brand new baby girl appropriately named Faith into their family.
Naomi shared the following: “all the pain from the labor and delivery went away as she was handed to me to hold.” Yet within a few hours, their happiness would unexpectedly be interrupted when their new born baby was diagnosed with a serious condition called Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia. Her intestines and spleen had gone through a small hole in her diaphragm up into her chest cavity. When we finally got to see her our hearts broke.
Faith went through 3 surgeries within 16 days of her life. The family fasted and prayed daily for her. During this difficult time when they were unable to hold her, the parents took advantage of talking and singing primary songs to her everyday and telling her they loved her.
Faith was put on an ECMO machine which helps to oxygenate her blood as an artificial lung. A day after Faith was put on the machine; she had opened her eyes and began to move her hands and feet. “It was just like Christmas for us” shared her parents. “It was so awesome to see her beautiful light brown eyes. We comforted her when she was scared and just spent the day talking to her and singing her to sleep. After a couple of days, the doctors needed to sedate her again to allow her lungs to rest before trying to open them up again. It was a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs but we prayed everyday for her comfort that she may have the strength to overcome this.”
On the early morning of October 12, we received a phone call from her doctor that we needed to come in and be with our daughter. “She was bleeding in her lungs and it could not be stopped. When we arrived, she was put into a deep sleep. The nurses removed the many tubes and IV’s that were in her, gave her a bath, clothed and wrapped her in a blanket, and gave her to us.
“As we held her, we sang and talked to her and told her how much we loved her. Our Bishop came to be with us and we asked him many questions about our daughter and what was going to happen with her spirit. His knowledge of the Plan of Salvation helped give us comfort. Faith returned back to a loving Heavenly Father that day.”
What could have been as stumbling block for this young couple became a stepping stone for them. As the mother expressed: “Although I may not understand at times, I know that the Lord knows who I am and hears my prayers. This experience taught me to be even more grateful for the gospel in my life for it has brought me peace and comfort throughout this time” (Kamauoha, 2005).

I had an experience that I would like to share with you. I was trying to make a decision that was very important, and it concerned more than just myself. I’d had many years of practice in going to the Lord with decisions. I fasted. I attended temple sessions. I prayed a great deal. I tried to be spiritually in tune. Then I made the decision and took it to the Lord for confirmation. In spite of all my spiritual preparations, I still felt unsettled with the final decision. Then I read Doctrine and Covenants 9:7, which says, “Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.”

It became very clear to me that to be completely settled about my decision, I needed more than spiritual preparation. I needed to do some practical preparation.

I got up from my knees and went to work. I met with people. I gathered data. I analyzed it. I thought about it. I counseled with Church leaders. I counseled with family. I considered it thoughtfully and very prayerfully. I wrote things down. Using a pencil and paper is always useful to me in analyzing information. It clarifies my thinking. So I wrote lists of pros and cons and considered these very prayerfully—crossing things off, narrowing things down.

I didn’t hurry. I took time to let things settle in my mind. Then in due time I knew what I should do. Finally, the Lord blessed me with peace about the matter, just as promised in Doctrine and Covenants 6:23: “Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” I learned that inspiration comes during this process. Can these same steps apply to you in major decisions you make? Surely it can.

Volleyball season came. We knew we were the best team in the stake. For two years we had been knocking on the door, and this was our year. We had the veteran “senior” boys. We had the height; we had the talent. And we even had a mascot—Billie. We even let Billie play. Just hitting the ball was a major achievement, but everyone clapped and encouraged him, so Billie really felt that he was making a contribution.
Being at each game was more important than ever to him. During the regular season, Billie might have cost the team a few points, or even one game in a series, but everyone recognized the sparkle in his eye when he played and we all felt good because of our sacrifice.
Finally the stake championship came. It was the same rivalry that had been there for the last two years. This time we would win. We had beaten them during the regular season, and we would beat them in the championship. Perhaps as an extra precaution someone “forgot” to tell Billie about the game.
Saturday afternoon at game time some of our players were overconfident and had run down to the store for some pop. The first game started without them, but the second string was good enough. Then in came the bishop with Billie. Both teams were well coached. The game was close, but we lost. We couldn’t afford to hold back. We had to have the next game if we were to win two out of three.
Billie had been at the coach’s side the whole first game. “Now? Should I go in now? Do you want me to play now?” His persistence was distracting. The coach spoke firmly but kindly, “Go sit down; I’ll tell you when, Billie.”
At the end of the first game, Billie couldn’t wait any longer. Scores didn’t mean anything. The only thing that was important was playing. The coach looked at Billie; for a long minute he agonized. He had always played all the boys. Would he change the rules now? Was the principle more important than the game?
This was a unique group of boys. Just weeks before, the coach had told us that sometime in his life every coach should get a chance to work with a group like ours. He felt that we could understand principles. There wasn’t any choice; he had to let Billie play.
The other team served—right to Billie. Another serve—to Billie; and another. Again and again the serve was to Billie. The other coach called time-out; he was talking to his server. Another serve—right to Billie. The score was 11 to 0; no service had been returned. Finally a service went into the net, but it was too late. The final score was 15 to 6. It was our year to win, and we lost.
The other team walked off the court with heads lowered. We were fighting back tears. We didn’t understand. We went outside, and the coach tried to talk. “I thought I knew what was right.” Even he was fighting for composure. “I believe it’s important for everyone to play. I’ve always let everyone play. I hope I’m doing what’s right.” The bishop was there with Billie. He looked as if he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. Finally Billie broke in and said, “Well, we won another one!”
Something happened after that. The bishop gave a lesson in priesthood meeting on winning. He said something about an inactive father going to the temple because his handicapped son was loved by our quorum. He said that was winning. Somebody said if Billie could play volleyball he could come to priesthood meeting. All of a sudden Billie was really part of us. We’d invested a volleyball championship in him, and he was important to us.

In just four days from now, on November 9, it will be 150 years since the ill-fated Willie Handcart Company pioneers struggled into the Salt Lake Valley. They had waded through much suffering and death. The storms and their weakened condition had claimed many—the rescuers had saved many more.

Levi Savage was among those arriving that day. History records his faithful and dogged labors to save the Saints and bring them safely to the valley. But his noble service did not begin on the snowbound plains of Wyoming. This was but another chapter, perhaps the crowning one, in a consecrated life of service.

Levi was baptized in June 1846 at 26 years of age. Answering the prophet’s call to move west, he noted that
we prepared as well as we could for a long journey into a strange and to us wholly unknown country. . . . We bid adieu to the old homestead . . . and directed our course westward, not knowing the place of destination, only we expected to locate somewhere in the western wilds of the Rocky Mountains.19
On July 16, 1846, he, with other valiant men, again responded to the prophet’s urging, enlisted in the Mormon Battalion, and marched approximately 2,000 miles from Council Bluffs, Iowa, to San Diego, California, and then on to Los Angeles. Here they were discharged from government service. Though they knew nothing of the whereabouts of their homes and families, they began their trek to the valley of the Great Salt Lake. The route Levi Savage traveled was an additional 1,300 miles over rugged and hostile terrain, but he finally arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.

Here Levi pioneered, fought crickets, married, had a son, and buried his wife some months following the child’s birth. Ten months after his wife’s death, in the October conference of 1852, he and several other faithful brethren were called by the prophet to open a gospel mission to Siam (today’s Thailand).

This time they journeyed by team and wagon back to lower California and the Pacific Ocean. In time, they sailed from San Francisco to Calcutta, bound for their mission to Siam. Levi’s journal entry of January 29, 1853, provides us a glimpse into the hearts of these early missionaries. He wrote:
Our gallant ship, propelled by a gentle breeze, steered her course across the boisterous deep for our places of destination; leaving behind us our much loved native land. . . . Each sought his own place for meditation, and there reflected upon the comforts of his home, the affections of his beloved wife and children or friends. . . . But now he was called to take up his abode in the remote parts of the earth, and for what? For the sake of heaping up gold and silver, or to secure for himself the honors, pomp and splendor of this world? No, verily no! But in obedience to the commands of the Lord to carry the message of truth and . . . salvation to the benighted and superstitious nations. Soon after, each retired to his cot for rest and repose. But whether asleep or awake, his mind continued to wander upon the realities of the past, and the prospects of the future.20

Following his mission, Levi sailed home by way of Boston, Massachusetts, made his way to his place of birth in Greenfield, Ohio, and noted upon his arrival there, “I have circled the globe.”21 He joined the Willie Handcart Company in Iowa City, Iowa, which began a saga of eternal importance to him, his family, and the entire Church. His works in that epic crowned a life of sacrifice and service. Of these pioneers, the benchmark shows: Their faith and works were a beacon in an unbelieving world, their service a pattern for each of us to follow.

Anthon stepped from his doorway onto the cobbled street, hesitated, and turned back to his wife—“the best in the land” he called her.
“Are you coming, Ibine?”
His wife stepped out of the doorway. She was wrapped in woolen scarves and a heavy coat. The February night was icy cold. Their destination was the seashore, a few blocks from their home. The children followed Ibine out the door. Thorvald and Astra were too young to be baptized but not too young to be excited for their parents. Only Anthon didn’t feel excited. He was quiet and pensive while walking along the clean-swept streets of Aalborg.
The night was very dark. The children cuddled close to their parents. The hand of tiny Thorvald squeezed his father’s, and pretty little Astra clung to Ibine. Anthon looked down at Thor and remembered his own childhood. He remembered the cows he had herded, the wooden shoes he had worn in winter, his own sister who had died in a terrible blizzard too far from home to get help. He remembered the worried look of his father who couldn’t support his family of nine during the mid-1800s war with Germany. He remembered working from 2:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night on a farm in order to help. He remembered crying in bed at night. “I wondered what I was sent on this earth for. I couldn’t see what good I was doing. All I could see ahead was endless work to no real worthwhile end.”
The frigid cold gripped Anthon’s face, and he wondered if the children or Ibine were uncomfortable. The chilling breeze made him think of glacier ice, and he remembered learning that ice-age glaciers had left his Denmark an undulating flatland so suited to farming and agriculture. He was grateful that at least a few years of formal education were mandatory—that his country believed in the virtues of learning and working. He saw ships’ masts in the harbor poking above the fields.
He and his family were nearing the place where they would be baptized. A sick feeling of loneliness hit him in his stomach. “My homeland, my forefathers, all that has been good to me—am I giving up their trust in me for a far-fetched religion sprouted in a distant, upstart country?”
Every member of the Mormon church who lived in Aalborg was there on the seashore, some holding lanterns. It was a small but cheery group. They sang hymns and smiled. But Anthon was still quiet. He looked into the faces of his beautiful children and wondered if he was doing what was right for them. He knew he would have to find a private school for them because the prejudice in the public schools against the few Mormon children was too much for such young children to bear.
The singing was over. A prayer was given to open the meeting. The missionaries asked a blessing on Brother and Sister Jensen that as they were baptized they would not fall ill from the freezing temperatures. A hole was chopped in the ice. The sacred ordinance was performed for both Anthon and his wife, Ibine. The two new members were welcomed with hugs and handshakes and sent quickly home to a warm fireplace. It was then that Anthon noticed something special—something unexpected. On their way home he found himself walking, almost skipping, with lightened step—his wife and children smiling at him all the way. The heavy burdens of worry had been lifted. He knew he had done the right thing, and above all he knew now that there was something important for him to do in life.
“I went to my former friend and minister the next day to bear him my testimony. I was so happy that I felt I could convert the whole world, and I wanted to,” he later recorded. “I wanted everyone to feel the peace and the joy that came with my baptism. And the most wonderful thing of all, I had an assurance that greater joys and greater knowledge were yet in store—not only for me but for my beautiful family.”

I can’t wait to be a deacon. Ever since I was little, I’ve watched with envy as the older boys passed the sacrament. It’s an important job, and they always seem to know just where to go when they pass the sacrament. Now it’s my turn. My twelfth birthday is this week, and I’ve been learning about the priesthood in Blazer class. I’ve been dreaming about passing the sacrament myself. I wonder if I’ll get to pass it to the bishop?

My Blazer teacher had told us that we would be interviewed by the bishop before we could be ordained. This would be my second interview—he had already interviewed me when I was going to get baptized. But I’ve lived half my life again since then!

I like my bishop. I see him every Sunday, and he knows my name. Sometimes he says hi. But I still worried about that interview. Did I know enough to be a deacon? Would he ask me about things I keep secret? Could I share my secrets with him? If I did, would he keep them secret?

Friday after dinner the bishop’s secretary called and said the bishop wanted to see me after my Blazer class on Sunday. I said OK, but I was nervous. In my mind I went over everything I thought that he might ask me. I began to remember all the things that happened this year. Some of them I wished hadn’t happened.

Sunday after class I headed for the Bishop’s office. What a busy place! I thought. Everybody wants to see him. I think I’ll go home and come another day.

But he saw me. “Hello there, Bobby,” he called. “Come in and sit down, please. Excuse me just one moment.” He stepped out into the hall to talk to someone about something. I wondered what they were talking about. I looked around his office. He had a big chair and a desk, a picture of the Savior, and a picture of President Benson. I saw the scriptures on his desk. They sure were ragged. I wondered what it would be like to be a bishop.

The door opened, and the Bishop came back in and sat next to me. He shook my hand. “Thank you for coming to see me,” he said. “You’re almost twelve, the age at which we normally confer the Aaronic Priesthood and ordain boys as deacons. I’ve talked with your father, and he also felt that you and I should have this interview. Tell me what you know and how you feel about the priesthood.”

Oh no, I thought. What shall I tell him? He probably knows everything about the priesthood. I started by telling him some things from Blazer class and some things my mother had taught me. He didn’t interrupt, and once I got started, my nervousness went away.

When I finished, he said, “Very good. I can see that you’ve been paying attention and that you understand some important principles. There are some scriptures about the priesthood that I’d like to share with you. They’re some of my favorites.”

He turned first to section 20 of the Doctrine and Covenants [D&C 20]. We read from it and talked about the duties of a deacon. Then we read from section 84 [D&C 84] and talked about the covenant of the Aaronic priesthood. After that, he turned to what he said was his favorite scripture—section 121. We read from verse 34 [D&C 121:34] to the end of the section. He helped me understand what the promise in verse 38 [D&C 121:38] meant.

Then he looked me right in the eyes and asked if I was paying tithing. I thought about how hard it had been to start. I was sure happy that I could say I was a full tithe payer. I told him how good I felt when I paid my tithing.

Next he asked me if I ever smoked or drank alcoholic beverages or took drugs. I remembered the time my friends and I had tried a cigarette, and I didn’t want to say anything. I hadn’t even told my parents. I knew it was wrong when I’d done it, and I still felt bad about it. Something inside me said, “Speak up,” but I just couldn’t. My silence must have told the bishop I was wrestling with something, because he talked to me about keeping secrets. He called it “confidentiality.” He said that he would keep anything I told him a secret unless I gave him permission to share it with my parents. Then he waited.

It seemed like a long time while I figured out what words to use. I told him about smoking and how ashamed it made me feel. We talked about how it had happened and what I should do to repent. I didn’t tell him who I’d done it with, and he didn’t ask me to. He said that his knowing their names had nothing to do with my worthiness to receive the priesthood. We discussed the help my parents could give me, and I decided to tell them. A calm feeling came over me. I guess that’s what happens when you do something that you know is right.

When the bishop asked me if I was morally clean, I didn’t know what he meant, so I asked him. He explained about keeping my mind and body clean. We talked about how to do that. He explained that if I lived righteously, the power of the priesthood would always be with me.

He asked me to kneel with him and say a prayer, so I did. It was a short one. Then he prayed. He asked Heavenly Father to bless me, and that made me feel good. I knew that my bishop liked me.

I can hardly wait to tell Mom and Dad about my interview. They’ll be happy for me and will help me be a good, worthy bearer of the priesthood. Just think—next Sunday I’ll be presented in sacrament meeting by the bishop to be sustained to receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon. Then after the block meetings, the ordinance will be performed. And the week after that I’ll pass the sacrament. I’m going to be reverent when I do and try to set a good example. Maybe some younger boys will be looking up to me.

Miguel Arrellano looked out the window of the tar-paper shack. Thunderclouds had opened up, pouring forth torrents of rain. Such storms were not unusual in his small village set in the mountains of Colombia.
Normally Miguel did not mind the rain. It watered the crops that the family depended upon for a living. Today, though, he prayed for the rain to stop.
It was a special day—the day he and his parents would be baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
He remembered when the two missionaries had found them. Elder Berger and Elder Santos, dressed in dark pants and white shirts, had appeared at their door. They wore small, black, name badges proclaiming that they represented the Church.
Elder Berger was tall, almost two meters. He came from Utah in the United States of America. In Colombia, men are rarely so tall. Papá was only a few centimeters taller than Miguel. Elder Santos was a native missionary and even shorter than Papá.
Miguel had practiced saying Elder Berger’s name. The syllables sounded strange upon his tongue. They laughed together as the American missionary tried to say Arrellano.
The elders told the family the story of Joseph Smith and the Restoration. When Elder Berger bore his testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, tears streamed down his face. He and Elder Santos both testified that Joseph Smith had been a prophet and that Gordon B. Hinckley was now the prophet. Though Miguel was only eleven, he knew that he was hearing the truth.
Mamá had cried when the elders had spoken of families being together forever. “Always, we search for something,” she had said. “Now I know we have found it.” She’d placed her hand on her heart. “I feel it. Here.”
The rain continued to fall in sheets and showed no signs of letting up.
Miguel looked from Mamá to Papá. “We must go. We told Elder Berger and Elder Santos that we would be there.”
Papá pointed to the flooded road. “There will be no bus today.”
The family had no car and had to rely on the bus. They had to change buses twice to reach the church. Each week, they carefully counted out the coins necessary to buy the bus tokens for Sunday. This week, they had taken money from their small food budget to pay for the extra trip to the church.
Papá worked very hard, but there was never enough money. Mamá had saved a little and made them new clothes. She had sewn Miguel and Papá shirts and herself a blouse. Miguel thought that she looked pretty in the bright yellow color.
He remembered the picture of President Hinckley the two young elders had shown the family. The prophet would not give up. He would find a way to get to the church, Miguel decided, and so will we.
“Señor Tomás,” Miguel said, glancing out the window and seeing their neighbor. “He goes to the city every day. Maybe he will give us a ride.”
Miguel ran across the muddy yard to their neighbor’s humble home. Señor Tomás nodded agreeably as the boy explained the situation. Miguel and Papá climbed into the back of the truck; Mamá rode in the cab with their neighbor.
They held on tightly as the old truck bounced over the rough roads. When they arrived at the small meetinghouse, they were wet and very tired, but happy.
The elders greeted them. Their clothes were wet and wrinkled, too, but the smiles on their faces were the brightest Miguel had ever seen.
“We weren’t sure you could make it,” Elder Berger said. “We’ve had problems here, too.”
They shared stories. Elder Santos explained that the pipes that carried water to the chapel had burst so that the baptismal font could not be filled. After praying, the elders had filled buckets with rain water and carried them inside the church to fill the font.
Miguel and his parents explained how they had found a ride with their neighbor.
“It’s a miracle you made it,” Elder Santos said.
Papá looked at the baptismal font and said, “We have many miracles today.”
“And much to be thankful for,” Mamá added.
Miguel and Papá changed clothes in a small dressing room while Mamá changed clothes in another one. Miguel touched the crisp white shirt and pants the elders had given him. They felt strange against his skin.
The water was so shallow that the elders had to kneel to perform the baptisms.
Miguel waited while his parents were baptized. When the time came for his own baptism, he felt a warmth come over him, even though the water was cold.
After everyone had changed into dry clothes, Elder Berger and Elder Santos confirmed Miguel and his parents members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Miguel hugged his parents, then Elder Berger and Elder Santos. He would never forget this day or the baptism miracles.

I arrived home. I heard crying as I walked in. It was Steven, my brother. He’d been teased at school and didn’t want to go back. The words from my patriarchal blessing echoed in my mind: “You may help the needy with your time, effort, and means.” Here was my brother in need.
“Hey Steven, you wanna go get some ice cream? Tell me what happened.”
Steven and I talked about his peers. Maybe I didn’t say anything helpful, but I could tell that my companionship meant a lot to him.
That experience with Steven taught me a lesson: the poor are just as likely to be in your home as on the streets. There are all sorts of needy people in the world—those who need food and shelter, of course—but also those who need love, counsel, and encouragement.
I haven’t given up my dream of ending the world’s social troubles, but for now, whenever I get the itch to seek out the needy, I’m inclined to go knocking at my brother’s bedroom door first.

George Staples (pictured as an adult)

George Staples left his home and family in England to travel to Utah. When he was 16, he joined a company of Saints in the United States, but as they crossed the plains, George was separated from the group. The company had to keep moving or risk running into warring Sioux Indians. As the story goes, he stayed behind.

George later joined a Sioux tribe and lived as an honorary Sioux for years.

People in the Salt Lake Valley heard about a white boy living as a Sioux. Eventually, a group came looking for him. As the group neared the tribe, George recognized someone. With a wild whoop, he ran to his father. They were thrilled to see each other, but George’s Sioux mother was devastated to lose her adopted son. So, before leaving with his father, George promised to return and visit his Sioux family. He kept his promise.2

Education is helping Christina Augerea from Hula, Papua New Guinea, accomplish her goals. Ever since she was little, she has had a love of reading and the goal of attending university. Her love of reading is what led her to the Church.

“When I was in fifth grade, we didn’t have books at my school,” she says. “My teacher was a Church member. She didn’t have other books, so she gave us the Book of Mormon.”
Years later, Christina served a mission in the Philippines and then started attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii, where she is working toward law school with a double major in political science and business administration and a minor in Mandarin.
Christina’s story came full circle after the COVID-19 pandemic forced her to return home. One day while visiting her village, she learned that the library at her primary school was infested with termites. With the help of local organizations and the Church, Christina oversaw the construction of a new library, with systems in place that will keep it running for many years.
As happy as she is that she was able to help her community, Christina explains that it took a lot of faith and work to get where she is now. “I know how it feels when you don’t have anything but you want to study,” she says. And through all her experiences, she has learned a lot about the value and purpose of education.
Our Church leaders often teach that it’s important to seek whatever education we can. “The Lord and His Church have always encouraged education to increase our ability to serve Him and our Heavenly Father’s children,” taught President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency.2
But, as Christina shares, education is more than just sitting in a classroom. “One of my professors told us that learning is not just about getting grades, a certificate, or eventually a job. It’s about understanding concepts.” And in order for education to really make a difference in your life, what you learn has to become a part of you. “You have to love learning,” Christina adds.
There are many ways we can become educated. “We don’t just learn in school,” Christina says. “We also learn in the Church. We learn at home. We can learn everywhere.” As we take advantage of opportunities to expand our knowledge, we become more educated, and the process of learning becomes more central to our lives.
Christina testifies that knowledge is key to helping each of us “prepare to meet God” (Alma 34:32). “We can grow and reach our potential by learning,” Christina says. As we humbly seek knowledge, we become more like our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and prepare to live with Them again.
By unlocking our personal potential, education also increases our ability to serve others. President Russell M. Nelson said, “Education is the difference between wishing you could help other people and being able to.”3
This is one of the biggest blessings that Christina has seen from education. “Education gives me the confidence to know that I can teach skills to others,” she says. “Even teaching in the Church is a lot of responsibility. So having confidence to be able to teach the young women or youth is amazing.”
Gaining an education takes persistence and strength—but it’s possible. At first, Christina didn’t know how she would accomplish her goals. “I didn’t know where I would get the money,” she says. But Christina found that when you trust in God and seek His help, He will help you accomplish what He needs you to do.
“With all my dreams and plans, two things that I always asked Heavenly Father for was to teach me what I could do and how I could do it. And He never left me. He knew that there was something better for me, and He guided me. I knew all those times that Heavenly Father was with me and that He still is.”
And as we seek Heavenly Father’s help, He will bless us with opportunities to gain more education and knowledge.
Christina knows that gaining an education is worth the effort. “I would tell people who think that they can’t do it to remember the huge potential God has given us. We can unlock that potential by believing that He has given it to us.”

A few summers ago, Rebekah and her dad undertook their biggest art project ever. Rebekah’s mom had always wanted a picture of the Salt Lake Temple in their home. That temple is especially important to Rebekah’s family because that is where her parents were married. Rebekah and her dad decided that they could design a tile mosaic of the temple that would be even more special because they made it themselves.
At first, the project seemed impossible. Rebekah wondered how it could be done. What materials could she use? But as they made sketches and started to gather materials, the project became very exciting to her. She and her dad visited many tile stores, going through piles of cast-off tiles and samples to find pieces with just the right colors and textures. They cut pieces off an old red brick to make the flower bed wall in the foreground, and Rebekah searched through small stones she had polished to find pieces for the angel Moroni on the top of the temple.
The original plan was to make the temple itself out of a piece of granite they had. This granite came from the same quarry where the early Saints got the rock for the Salt Lake Temple. But the granite was too coarse. Luckily, one of the ceramic tiles they had found was colored and textured to look like granite. They still used some of the granite from the temple quarry—it is included in the stones in the mosaic’s foreground.
The project was a lot of work and took a lot of time. They worked for two months, breaking tiles with a hammer and fitting the pieces together. When they needed straight cuts or defined shapes, they used a tile saw. Rebekah got very good at cutting tiles to the shapes she needed. Finally, after all of the tile pieces were in place, they applied the grout and finished the sides of the mosaic with some special granite paint.
Now this beautiful mosaic is hanging in the Nielsen home. It is a good reminder of how important the temple is. Rebekah especially likes the way the mountains turned out. Her dad pointed out verses in the Bible that show how even the mountains can help us think of the temple:
“And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.
“And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths” (Isa. 2:2–3).
The mountains also help Rebekah remember the pioneers who came to the Salt Lake Valley with Brigham Young and built the Salt Lake Temple.
Rebekah loves thinking about the temple. She knows it’s a wonderful place where people can feel the Holy Spirit. She wants to be good and make good choices so that she can go inside the temple someday. Now the beautiful temple mosaic belongs to the Nielsen family, but Rebekah’s dad has promised her that one day it will be hers to hang in her own home—when she gets married in one of Heavenly Father’s temples.

One Saturday a schoolteacher knocked on our door to talk to my father about my nephew. I found myself looking at a book he held, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Seeing my interest, he offered to leave the book. He also said I could attend a study group.
I spent almost the whole night scanning the book, stopping to take notes whenever I came across something new. Although I did not fully understand the doctrine, I felt no doubt about its truthfulness. I had a feeling of joy—as if I were discovering a genuine gem among thousands of imitations.
The next evening I joined five other people in a study group at the home of Mr. Kasongo. He had been doing research when he came across a book about American churches. “My heart pounded as I read the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he said. After writing to the Church’s headquarters, he received some literature—including A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
For two years, our group met twice a week. When missionaries, Elder Roger L. and Sister Simonne B. Dock, arrived in March 1987, 50 people were studying together.
The Docks began teaching the missionary discussions in French in the public school. Because some people spoke only Swahili, I interpreted. I heard the missionary discussions for the first time myself while interpreting.
On 9 May 1987 I was one of 80 people baptized in a pool at an abandoned copper mine. For me, baptism was an outer confirmation of an inner conversion that had taken place years earlier. I had been waiting for this sacred ordinance so I could become a member of the Church.
I have received so many blessings—among them the time I spent translating for couple missionaries. They are as dedicated as if the Master Himself were physically beside them.
I thank my Heavenly Father for these rich experiences and for the opportunity my wife, Jolie Mwenze, and I have to raise our son in the Church. And particularly I thank Him for sending me the gospel—a gem beyond price.

I understood this principle a little bit more after watching a session of general conference. I’d just gotten into a fight with my sister, and I was fuming in my room. At first, I didn’t really feel bad for what I’d done. I felt like she’d earned my anger and definitely did not deserve an apology. The conference messages touched me, though, and I felt the Spirit soften my heart. I realized that I needed to apologize. As I thought through my apology, I felt sick to my stomach. I started to doubt that my words would fix anything. I reasoned that she would still be hurt and she wouldn’t understand that I really was sorry. I felt hopeless knowing that I could’t completely heal the wound that I’d created. At a loss about what to do, I decided to get on my knees and pray. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father for forgiveness. I asked Him to bless me with the ability to let my sister know that I was truly sorry.
After my prayer, I asked my sister if I could talk to her for a minute. I told her I was sorry. She played with her hair and wouldn’t meet my eyes and then mumbled her own apology. “No,” I responded, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” I felt my heart soften even more and tears filled my eyes. I gave her a hug and apologized for all the times I’d been mean to her and for not being a good big sister. My relationship with my sister was different after that day. It still is far from perfect, but a new understanding and love has grown between us.

President Funk was called to her position by President Harold B. Lee in November of 1972. Her husband had received a phone call in his dentist office from President Lee’s secretary, and he immediately called Ruth, who was teaching music at East High School (Salt Lake City) at the time.

“Are you sitting down?” he asked. She did sit down, and her husband told her that President Lee had requested that he bring his wife to 47 East South Temple—the office of the president of the Church. Later she remembered feeling weak and then just crying.

Sitting across the huge wooden desk from the president of the Church was a thrilling experience for Brother and Sister Marcus Funk. She sat there as once again the priesthood bearers in her life discussed the Lord’s will concerning her. President Lee and Brother Funk conversed back and forth about her abilities, her love for and persuasiveness with youth, her tenacity for work, her limitless energy, and her deep devotion to the gospel and the Lord. Again she very trustingly and openly accepted their decision: She accepted the call to be the president of the then 103-year-old organization.

Valerie Walters and Becky Warnick, dressed in white robes with sparkles in their hair, were participating in an angel choir, singing about the birth of Jesus Christ. Seated between Valerie and Becky was Chelan Feller, also dressed as an angel. Chelan needed the comforting shoulder of Becky and the kind touch of Valerie to be able to participate. Chelan attends the American Fork Special Education Seminary, and she, along with 40 of her fellow students, were participating in the first of what they hope will be their annual Christmas pageant. Serving the American Fork Training School in Utah, the seminary has classes geared to the levels of their special education students.
Valerie and Becky, 18, were just two volunteers from the Alpine Utah 11th Ward who volunteered to help the Special Education Seminary stage their pageant. Each special needs teen was assigned a helper to assist in putting on costumes over everyday clothes, to be by the sides of the students as they spoke or sang their parts, and to accompany them as they entered and exited.
It turned out to be an exciting evening. With parents and families crowding the seminary building, the age-old story of the Savior’s birth was presented. But more than the story, the example of kindness and unselfishness that represented the Savior’s life also filled the room.
Becky said, “Many of the students can’t bear their testimonies in words, but when I look into their eyes I see that they know Christ.”

Almost five centuries ago a creative genius named Leonardo da Vinci lived and worked in Italy. While we remember him most today for such paintings as the Mona Lisa, he was also a fascinating debater, a polished orator, and a storyteller of great imagination. One of his fables, simply titled “The Wolf,” I would like to share with you.
“Carefully, warily, the wolf came down out of the forest one night, attracted by the smell of a flock of sheep. With slow steps he drew near to the sheepfold, placing his feet with the utmost caution so as not to make the slightest sound which might disturb the sleeping dog.
“But one careless paw stepped on a board; the board creaked and woke the dog. The wolf had to run away, unfed and hungry. And so, because of one careless foot, the whole animal suffered.” (Adapted from Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci, “Fantastic Tales,” Bestiary, no. 1225.)

After a 61-hour bus ride, our youth group arrived at the Manila Philippines Temple. In celebration of the temple’s 20th anniversary, the Davao stake youth had spent nine months preparing for the trip, attending family history classes, being actively involved in Church activities, researching and preparing family names, and helping to raise funds for the trip. There was excitement in the air as the 63 of us got off the bus that Monday night. At the temple patron housing, we held a very large family home evening, with musical performances and spiritual messages, and then tried to sleep.

During the next two days the youth were baptized and confirmed for over 2,000 of their ancestors, giving those ancestors the chance to accept the restored gospel. We didn’t feel hungry or tired as we worked hour after hour in the temple. The Spirit was very strong. Some youth had glowing countenances; others had tears of joy on their cheeks.

All too soon it was time to go home. A few minutes into our journey, the peaceful quiet of the bus was interrupted by police sirens. Outside, we were surrounded by patrol cars, which forced us to a stop. Then we could see police snipers around us, aiming forward. In those tense moments, we learned that the passengers of a bus a few feet in front of us were being held hostage, and the police were using our bus as a shield!

We leaders did our best to keep everyone calm, but some began to panic. In the confusion the police ordered us all to drop to the floor. After several terrifying minutes, we heard a man yelling for us to evacuate the bus. Following orders, we hurriedly got off the bus and went to a nearby vacant building.

For over an hour, we sat in the dark building, praying and listening for gunfire. Then finally we were told we could go back to our bus. The shootout had ended; two hostages and two hijackers had been killed.

We were badly shaken as we resumed our journey. As the shock lessened, however, we realized we had been protected. Not one of us had been injured, and we knew the hand of the Lord had been over us. We felt a divine presence and wondered if perhaps some of those for whom we had been baptized were close by.

I thought of the scripture that says, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say” (D&C 82:10), and I was glad the Lord keeps His promises. As we keep the commandments and continue faithfully in our duties, including temple and family history work, we will be worthy of the Lord’s blessings—including His protection when we need it most.

When my father-in-law passed away, our family gathered together to greet others who came to pay their respects. Throughout the evening, as I visited with family and friends, I often noticed our 10-year-old grandson, Porter, standing near my mother-in-law—his “granny.” Sometimes he was standing behind her, watching over her. Once I noticed his arm linked with hers. I watched him pat her hands, give her little hugs, and stand by her side.
For several days after that experience, I couldn’t get this image out of my mind. I was prompted to send Porter a note, telling him what I had observed. I emailed him and told him what I had seen and felt. I reminded Porter of the covenants he had made when he was baptized, quoting Alma’s words in Mosiah chapter 18:
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, … that ye may have eternal life—
“… If this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?”
I explained to Porter that Alma taught that those who want to be baptized need to be willing to serve the Lord by serving others—for your whole life! I said: “I don’t know if you realized it, but the way you showed love and concern for Granny was keeping your covenants. We keep our covenants every day as we are kind, show love, and take care of each other. I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you for being a covenant keeper! As you keep the covenant you made when you were baptized, you will be prepared to be ordained to the priesthood. This additional covenant will give you more opportunities to bless and serve others and help you to prepare for the covenants you will make in the temple. Thank you for being such a good example to me! Thank you for showing me what it looks like to be a covenant keeper!”
Porter replied back: “Grandma, thanks for the message. When I was always hugging Granny, I didn’t know that I was keeping my covenants, but I felt warm in my heart and felt really good. I know that it was the Holy Ghost in my heart.”
I also felt warm in my heart when I realized that Porter had connected keeping his covenants with the promise to “always have his Spirit to be with [us]”—a promise made possible by receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Perhaps if we begin with a story, it might help us to better understand the theme of this discussion, and at the same time, help to introduce it.
There once was a man of science and of great knowledge, but with a small degree of humility, and therefore of very great self-esteem, who set out to see the world and enjoy its many wonders.
One clear night, when the stars were shining in all their splendor, he came to the banks of a river in a region almost uninhabited. His intention was to cross to the other side of the river, but he found that there was no other way to cross except by a rowboat there which was run by a humble boatman.
He decided to engage the services of the boatman to take him across the river. Of course, it was not the safest way to cross, but for lack of a better way, it was the only thing he could do.
He hired the boatman and began crossing. Perhaps because he was impressed by the serenity and beauty of the starlit night, the man of science felt inclined to start a conversation with the simple boatman. Looking at the beautiful sky he asked the boatman, “Tell me, my good man, what do you know about the stars and the moon which are now shedding their light on us?”
Meek and somewhat ashamed, the boatman answered, “Well, nothing. Only that they are up there.”
With a little personal satisfaction he continued asking, “And tell me, what do you know about the constellations and the solar system?”
Very humiliated, the boatman reluctantly answered, “Nothing. No, I know nothing about these things.”
The man of science, with obvious pride, said to the boatman, “My dear boatman, you have lost half of your life by not knowing about all of these things.”
With a feeling of resignation the humble boatman continued rowing the boat toward the opposite shore, carrying the overly confident man.
Suddenly a great wind came up—a common occurrence in that part of the country—which made the boat rock violently, even to the point that it threw the boatman and the man of science overboard, into the churning water. The boatman surfaced and began swimming to shore. He looked back at the scientist who appeared to be drowning and called, “Do you know how to swim?”
With terror in his eyes the scientist replied, “No,” whereupon the boatman replied, “I’m sorry! You’ve lost all of your life.”

While cargo was delivered and provisions replenished in Honolulu, Brooklyn passengers were free to explore the island. Hundreds of natives were waiting for us to land. They greeted us with wide smiles and twinkling black eyes.
Some of the Hawaiians came on board and were delighted when they saw the nine-month-old Kittleman twins, Hannah and Sarah, and asked to take them ashore to show them to their queen. After they had been gone for more than two hours, Sister Kittleman became alarmed, and the ship’s crew organized a posse. Just as the sailors were ready to start a search, two young girls came running toward the ship with the babies. Queen Kalama had sent many gifts for their mother.