Gospel Story Finder

The hands on the clock seemed glued in place. Every time I looked, they showed the same time. Why didn’t the teacher come to start the exams so that my agony could finally be over?
Like most Japanese students, I was scared to death by the college entrance exams. In our country, those who fail the tests aren’t allowed to attend a university. Students often stay up late all year long to cram, and they have a favorite saying: “He who sleeps four hours passes; he who sleeps five hours fails.” Like my friends, I had spent many sleepless nights in preparation and had received countless urgings from my parents to “make sure you pass those tests.”
For me, though, the exams carried even more weight. They might make a difference between whether or not my parents would allow me to be baptized. For four years I had been trying to convince them, especially my father, that joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would be good for me. He would hear nothing of it, always insisting that, for now, schooling was more important.
If only I could pass these exams, college would be assured and the pressure would be less. Perhaps then my parents would grant permission for my baptism. I looked at the clock again. Three minutes to go …
Last of all, my thoughts drifted to the beginning of this school year-my last in high school, the year of preparation for the college entrance examinations. I knew I would not be allowed to join the Church until the exams were over. I also wondered if my parents would allow me to be baptized even after the tests. One thing was certain, though. If I failed the exams, my parents would say, “The reason you failed is because you spent so much time with that church!” I had to prove that what they were thinking just wasn’t right. Somehow I knew that passing those tests was the key to my baptism, but I couldn’t see how.
I studied harder than I ever had before. Schoolwork passed ahead of everything, even Church assignments. Seminary studies began to pile up, but I rationalized that in order to be baptized, it was worth neglecting seminary in favor of schoolwork. The lack of seminary study worried me, however, for it was there I had grown the most and felt the strongest testimony. Now that testimony seemed to be shrinking as 13 home study books cluttered my shelf. My conscience told me I wasn’t doing what was right, that even with school there should be time for Church work and seminary too. On February 25 I promised myself I would complete all 13 books by March 4, the day exams began. Sandwiched in between my other schoolwork, seminary workbooks became a welcome break. On March 2, I handed all of my assignments, completed, to my amazed seminary teacher.
“It’s time,” the teacher supervising the exam said. I looked at the clock and whispered a prayer. Like a squadron of robots, the college entrance exam candidates rose and entered the testing area. Reluctantly, I joined them.
I passed! I couldn’t believe it! I was so excited! But several days later, when the scores were posted, I was listed. I would be able to go to college! I rushed to my parents with the good news and also asked if now I could finally have my wish—to become a member of the Church.
“No,” my father said simply. He startled the words right out of my mouth.
But my mother, although she had never done so before, came to my defense. She reminded him that I had been true to my studies and true to my religion for four years. “That’s such a good church that I don’t think my daughter would be doing anything wrong by joining it,” she said. “It is such a good church. I can understand why my daughter wants to go to it all her life.”
The three of us talked for hours, and I slowly realized my parents weren’t against me but loved me. They were concerned for my welfare and didn’t want me doing something blindly. I’m grateful to have such wonderful parents. I think they realized, too, that I wasn’t joining the Church on a whim. They gave me permission to be baptized! I made that covenant and received that ordinance on the same day I graduated from the Young Women program. My friends from seminary helped plan the baptismal service, and most of my family attended.

Let me share an experience of a Relief Society sister who made a difference and exemplified the objectives of our organization.
This young adult sister, who was teaching English language classes in Japan, found herself on the playground surrounded by a group of Japanese children who were full of questions. “Do you like Japanese or American kids better?” “Do you eat sushi?” “How do you say basketball in English?” Amid the commotion, the young Relief Society sister felt someone tapping her arm. She turned around to see a little girl with pigtails and glasses. “I bent down to look her in the face and waited for what was sure to be some trivial question,” she says. “It was as if all the commotion stopped when she asked in a soft, almost timid voice, ‘Do you know Jesus?’ I was stunned by such a poignant and important question. I smiled and felt amazing love as I told her, ‘Yes, yes, I know Jesus.’”
Dear young adult sisters, you know Jesus. And with that knowledge you bring a clarity, a freshness, and an energy that our sisterhood needs. We value your membership in Relief Society, and you bless us with your faith in the Savior and in His work. An older sister described you in these words: “We are spiritually nourished as we observe you younger, vibrant women who not only have so much vigor and vitality but also who are spiritually mature, with tremendous inner strength of character and testimony—just beautiful to behold. We count our blessings because you are the ones who reassure us and give such faith and ‘a perfect brightness of hope’ for the future” (see 2 Ne. 31:20).

A little while ago my family and I moved to Kentucky. I was really upset because I was leaving all my friends and extended family behind. Kentucky was very different from what I was used to. The first time we went to church, I saw that there weren’t very many people there. When I realized how small my branch was, I decided that I would do something about it.
The next day, my mom and I went to the store. Before we left the house, I grabbed a stack of pass-along cards. When we got to the store, I got a candy bar and went to check out. The cashier scanned the candy, then handed it to me. I handed it back. She looked confused and said, “You just paid for this, ma’am.”
I said, “I know, but I’m giving this to you as a gift.” Then I put a pass-along card with the candy. She smiled and thanked me. She looked at the back of the pass-along card, where I had written, “Everyone is a child of God.” I walked away with happiness, knowing that even if she didn’t join the Church, I still did something good.
Later that day, I remembered that I left the rest of the pass-along cards by the cash register! The next time we went to the store, I went to ask if they were still there. Then I saw something, and I stopped in my steps. About five of the cash registers had pass-along cards that said, “Everyone is a child of God.” The cashier had passed them out! I felt so happy because of what I did.

Early in the morning today, I went to the municipality offices in Dombo Tombo, Zimbabwe. While I was in line, a woman dropped a twenty-dollar note on the ground. I saw it fall and told her about it. She picked it up and said, “Thank you.”
Many of the other people in line said to me, “You are stupid. You are foolish. Why didn’t you take the money and buy your own things?”
But I said, “No, I shall never do that because I am a child of God.”
When the others calmed down, an older man who was standing behind me said quietly, “Do you go to church? It seems as if you are a good girl.”
I said, “Yes, I go to church.”
And he said, “What is the name of your church?”
I said, “It is called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If you want to, you can come to the Dombo Tombo Hall on Tuesday nights at 5:30 P.M. or on Sunday at half past ten, and I will meet you there.”
And the man said, “Oh, yes! I will come!”
So I am very happy about what I did today.

The churches, castles, and inns of thirteenth-century England are the setting for this dramatic story of Robin. Robin’s father, a great lord, was off to the wars, and his mother, a lady, was called to help care for the Queen, as there was a plague raging in the city of London. Robin is to go to a castle in the north of the land to begin serving as a page in preparation for knighthood. The plague overcomes the household staff. Robin becomes ill and is left unattended. How Robin eventually gets to his castle and how he learns there are different ways in which to serve make for exciting reading.

There are many ways in which we can misuse our opportunities. Some time ago I read a tender story written by Louise Dickinson Rich which vividly illustrates this truth. She wrote:
“My grandmother had an enemy named Mrs. Wilcox. Grandma and Mrs. Wilcox moved, as brides, into next-door houses on the main street of the tiny town in which they were to live out their lives. I don’t know what started the war between them—and I don’t think that by the time I came along, over thirty years later, they remembered themselves what started it. This was no polite sparring match; this was total war. …
“Nothing in town escaped repercussion. The 300-year-old church, which had lived through the Revolution, the Civil War, and the Spanish War, almost went down when Grandma and Mrs. Wilcox fought the Battle of the Ladies’ Aid. Grandma won that engagement, but it was a hollow victory. Mrs. Wilcox, since she couldn’t be president, resigned [from the Aid] in a huff. What’s the fun of running a thing if you can’t force your enemy to eat crow? Mrs. Wilcox won the Battle of the Public Library, getting her niece, Gertrude, appointed librarian instead of Aunt Phyllis. The day Gertrude took over was the day Grandma stopped reading library books. They became ‘filthy germy things’ overnight. The Battle of the High School was a draw. The principal got a better job and left before Mrs. Wilcox succeeded in having him ousted or Grandma in having him given life tenure of office.
“When as children we visited my grandmother, part of the fun was making faces at Mrs. Wilcox’s grandchildren. One banner day we put a snake into the Wilcox rain barrel. My grandmother made token protests, but we sensed tacit sympathy.
“Don’t think for a minute that this was a one-sided campaign. Mrs. Wilcox had grandchildren, too. Grandma didn’t get off scot free. Never a windy washday went by that the clothesline didn’t mysteriously break, with the clothes falling in the dirt.
“I don’t know how Grandma could have borne her troubles so long if it hadn’t been for the household page of her daily Boston newspaper. This household page was a wonderful institution. Besides the usual cooking hints and cleaning advice, it had a department composed of letters from readers to each other. The idea was that if you had a problem—or even only some steam to blow off—you wrote a letter to the paper, signing some fancy name like Arbutus. That was Grandma’s pen name. Then some of the other ladies who had the same problem wrote back and told you what they had done about it, signing themselves One Who Knows or Xanthippe or whatever. Very often, the problem disposed of, you kept on for years writing to each other through the column of the paper, telling each other about your children and your canning and your new dining-room suite. That’s what happened to Grandma. She and a woman called Sea Gull corresponded for a quarter of a century. Sea Gull was Grandma’s true friend.
“When I was about sixteen, Mrs. Wilcox died. In a small town, no matter how much you have hated your next-door neighbor, it is only common decency to run over and see what practical service you can do the bereaved. Grandma, neat in a percale apron to show that she meant what she said about being put to work, crossed the lawn to the Wilcox house, where the Wilcox daughters set her to cleaning the already-immaculate front parlor for the funeral. And there on the parlor table in the place of honor was a huge scrapbook; and in the scrapbook, pasted neatly in parallel columns were Grandma’s letters to Sea Gull over the years and Sea Gull’s letters to her. Though neither woman had known it, Grandma’s worst enemy had been her best friend. That was the only time I remember seeing my grandmother cry. I didn’t know then exactly what she was crying about, but I do now. She was crying for all the wasted years which could never be salvaged.”

A few days ago there came to my office a man from Las Vegas, Nevada. His wife and married daughter were with him. When we had accomplished the purpose of his visit, the younger woman asked if I would accept something from her thirteen-year-old daughter. She unwrapped a painting of two butterflies around a flowering shrub.
The mother explained that her daughter had been struck by a car in a terrible accident when she was four years of age. Her body was badly broken. She was left paralyzed from the shoulders down, a quadriplegic—without the use of arms or legs. She had painted this picture holding a brush between her teeth and moving her head.
As I listened to that story, the painting grew in beauty and value before my eyes. It became more than a portrayal of butterflies. It represented remarkable courage in the face of blinding adversity; tenacious practice in holding and moving the brush; pleading prayers for help; faith—the faith of a child, nurtured by loving parents, that she could create beauty notwithstanding her handicap.
Some might say that this is not a masterpiece. Without knowledge of its origin, that could be the judgment. But what is the test of art? Is it not the inspiration which comes from looking at it?
I will hang this small painting in my study so that during occasional hours of struggle there will come into my mind the picture of a beautiful little girl, robbed of the use of her feet and hands, gripping the handle of a paintbrush in her teeth to create a thing of beauty. Thank you, Krystal, for what you have done for me. I hope the telling of your story will bring a new measure of strength to others who, facing discouragement, have felt they could not go on. I hope that your example will be as a polar star to lead them in the darkness through which they stumble.
It may not be easy. It may be fraught with disappointment and challenge. It will require courage and patience. I remind you of the faith and determination of the thirteen-year-old girl who, holding a paintbrush in her teeth, created the painting I showed you earlier. Love can make the difference—love generously given in childhood and reaching through the awkward years of youth. It will do what money lavished on children will never do.

Over the years, Kumar met two other mission presidents and occasionally had the opportunity to take some couple missionaries on tours which also had a positive influence on him. After talking with some good members, Kumar decided to take the missionary lessons.

Kumar remembered the first lesson when President Roshan, Negombo branch president, told him he shouldn’t worry if a tour group commitment prevented him from coming to church sometimes. He assured him that this church is not for perfect people but those who are striving to become perfect.

Kumar exclaimed, “This was wonderful to my ears,” as this issue of missing church after committing himself to Christ weighed heavily on his mind. Now he could progress with a clear conscience and learn more about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

“The Book of Mormon was very nice to read. It helped me feel closer to my wife and more comfortable with my family,” says Kumar. In December of 2019, Kumar was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Recently I had the opportunity of congratulating a special young lady upon her graduation from college. Knowing she had achieved this lofty goal under extreme difficulties, I said, “Would you mind telling me in one word how you were able to achieve this great accomplishment?” While she paused momentarily, words like courage, determination, and faith flashed through my mind as I anticipated her answer. Then without hesitation she said, “Elder Ashton, the word is commitment.”
Most of us who have ever heard of the great American leader Abraham Lincoln will recall what he said of his mother: “All that I am, all that I hope to be, I owe to my Angel mother.” (In Abraham Lincoln’s Philosophy of Common Sense, ed. Edward J. Kempf, 3 parts, New York: The New York Academy of Sciences, 1965, 1:60.) But how many of us know what his mother’s last words to him were? They were “Be something, Abe.”
Not only is this wise counsel, but it also expresses the yearnings of most fathers’ and mothers’ hearts to have their children be something. Simple terms, but, oh, how powerful, “Be something.” I am so pleased she didn’t say, “Be someone.” She said, “Be something, Abe.” There is a significant difference. In the dictionary someone is defined as “conceived or thought of, but not definitely known,” while something is identified as “a person or thing of importance.”
Abraham Lincoln’s mother knew her son, his potential, and the rocky roads ahead of him; hence, she wanted him to commit himself promptly to being steadfast and immovable in living and promoting deeds of courage and faith in the lives of all mankind.
A word of hope is poured out on every generation of people by those who advocate accomplishment, an exemplary life, living up to one’s abilities, and keeping one’s commitments.
True happiness is not made in getting something. True happiness is becoming something. This can be done by being committed to lofty goals. We cannot become something without commitment.
Commitment as a word cannot stand alone. We must always ask, “Committed to what?” As all of us blend into the programs of the Church, it behooves us to set goals for ourselves in order to reap the blessings of self-improvement and excellent performance in given assignments.
“Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness;
“For the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves. And inasmuch as men do good they shall in nowise lose their reward.
“But he that doeth not anything until he is commanded, and receiveth a commandment with doubtful heart, and keepeth it with slothfulness, the same is damned.” (D&C 58:27–29.)
As we search for good causes, we must consider our own needs, but also we must live in compliance with gospel teachings.
President Spencer W. Kimball at the Regional Representatives Seminar of April 3, 1975, said, “I believe in goals, but I believe that the individual should set his own. Goals should always be made to a point that will make us reach and strain. Success should not necessarily be gauged by always reaching the goal set, but by progress and attainment.”
In setting our own goals we need to examine our own needs and abilities. The direction in which we are moving is more important than where we are at the moment. Goal setting should cause us to stretch as we make our way.
Self-examination is most difficult. Surveys have shown that most people take credit for success to themselves, but blame their failures on external forces or other people. It would be well, when confronted with problems, to be able to ask the same questions the Twelve Apostles asked during the Last Supper.
“Now when the even was come, he sat down with the twelve.
“And as they did eat, he said, Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me.
“And they were exceeding sorrowful, and began every one of them to say unto him, Lord, is it I?” (Matt. 26:20–22.)
When our progress seems to be at a standstill, it is well for us to ask who is at fault. Is it I? Am I sufficiently committed to righteous goals? Do I have the courage, fortitude, and wisdom to apply self-examination—or will I be inclined to try and decide which of my associates will fail?
William Clement Stone, a Chicago millionaire, in an interview said, “Only if you have drive, the push, ‘the want to’ will you succeed in any field.” He went on to say, “Regardless of your religious beliefs, read the Bible, the most inspirational book of all time. And learn to employ the power of prayer.” This man had learned the value of commitment. He had the “want to.” He had also learned to turn to God for direction, guidance, and help.
Many people are motivated by spiritual goals. The question is, “For what reasons?” Is it because of good feelings and promised rewards, or is it because of fear of not living the commandments? The best motivation is toward the positive. Total commitment to correct gospel principles brings joy, satisfaction, and the abundant life.
Dale Carnegie once said, “If you are not in the process of becoming the person you want to be, you are automatically engaged in becoming the person you don’t want to be.”
However, we must realize not all problems of life can be solved at once. A commitment to solve our daily needs and the reaching of immediate lesser goals will bring meaningful successes. Realize that God will judge you by the way you make use of all your possibilities. It is wise and proper to want to make the most of every opportunity, but don’t quit or weep because of failure or disappointments. Break down big commitments into smaller ones that you can handle. Then self-esteem will grow and commitment toward goals of greater magnitude will become possible. The journey of success is long and is dotted with a series of commitments to worthy goals. A person does not become committed to worthwhile goals just by making the declaration or decision. It must be daily progression toward established purposes.
When one is wholly committed, added strengths and talents become evident. Assistance comes from unexpected sources. Who of us has not accepted some assignment with fear and trepidation, feeling totally inadequate to take on such a responsibility? But with concern and obedience we move forward—working hard and praying often. As the task is completed, to our surprise, we have been successful. We humbly realize that our own abilities have been added upon.
Goethe wrote, “What you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.” (Faust: Vorspiel auf dem Theater, 1:227, as translated by John Anster, Faustus, A Dramatic Mystery: Prelude at the Theatre, 1:303, 1835.) We would add that commitment has genius, power, and magic in it.
The scriptures say it this way: “For I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.” (1 Ne. 3:7.)
A truly committed person does not falter in the face of adversity. Until one is committed, there is a chance to hesitate, to go off in another direction, or to be ineffective. Members within our ranks who are committed to living the gospel of Jesus Christ will not be affected by the rationale of hecklers.
Our enemies are becoming more hostile with each passing week. They seem intent on not only deceiving the uncommitted among us but on leading astray even the elect. They criticize our leaders. They scoff at what we consider to be sacred. They mock ordinances and covenants we know to be true and holy. They delight in discovering and sharing human flaws and frailties among our leaders past and present rather than acknowledging and benefiting from the truths they taught. They go to the tree, and instead of enjoying the fruit thereof, they point out the scars discovered on the tree trunk.
Do not be deceived. God will not be mocked. (See Gal. 6:7.) We have no intention of quarreling or demanding equal time to refute. We invite the dissenters as well as all others to open their eyes and see the beauties and thrills available to those who walk in His path looking for the good.
For example, it is a sad day in the life of any individual or group when by present training, attitude, and design, they would go to a football game and judge the participants by the dirt and grime on their uniforms rather than by how many tackles were made or yards gained.
By the same token, where is the pleasure for these same people who, attending a big league baseball game, will not cheer or clap for the home run hitter who drives in the winning runs but would rather dwell upon the fact that when the star, according to their research, was in grade school he was kept after school for misconduct? Woe unto those who feast on the dirt and the distasteful instead of the fruits.
Contrast those attitudes with that demonstrated by an elderly widow acquaintance of ours who travels to the temple every morning, spends the day attending sessions, and returns home by bus tired and worn just because “I love everyone, even those I cannot see.” Her attendance record? “I go every day it is open. Sometimes when I don’t feel too strong it is difficult, but I make it somehow.” The word is commitment.

One afternoon as I was upstairs studying, I heard a knock at the door. My mother answered it, and I could hear her talking to two young men. As I went downstairs, I heard mother try to give them some excuse and turn them away, but I said I wanted to talk with them. She let them in, closed the door, and went back to her work. The missionaries gave me the first discussion that very afternoon, and I began to get the same feeling I had experienced as a little girl as I ran into the arms of my Heavenly Father.
A week later they came to give me the second lesson, but my mother met them and told them they were not to come again. She told me later the missionaries were only after my money. That night I heard my parents arguing about the Church, and I decided I would not see the missionaries again.
Just before I turned 18 I finished school and decided to go visit one of my friends. She had married my uncle, and they had moved from England to Switzerland. The week I arrived in Switzerland, two Mormon missionaries knocked on their door.
I eagerly asked them to teach me and decided to be baptized after only three visits. Two weeks after my 18th birthday I was baptized. I had found my people, my world, and was in the arms of my Heavenly Father again.

You can learn to look at a sibling’s behavior in a different way. Butch loved to tease, and his pet name for his younger sister was “Brutus.” His sister’s earliest memory of this name is a tape recording:

“Hi. My name is Katie Ald—”
“Brutus.”
“Butch. My name is Katie—”
“Brutus!”
“Stop it!”
“I’m calling the dog.”
“My name is—”
“Brutus!”

Katie’s entire child and teenage life was haunted by this name. With the encouragement of her parents, she ignored it as much as she could and when she couldn’t, she pretended it was meant as a compliment, a term of endearment. By the time her brother left on his mission, it really was an affectionate nickname. This is called reframing. Katie learned to look at the name in a different way.

Butch wishes he hadn’t waited until his mission to establish a friendship with Katie. “I missed my whole family at first, but it was ‘Brutus’ that I missed my whole mission. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

Marcelino Tossen believed in God, read the Bible, and enjoyed talking about religion, so when the full-time missionaries knocked on his apartment door one warm January day in 1992, he invited them in. That decision changed his life.
“Elder Zanni and Elder Halls worked under the impressions of the Spirit,” recalls Marcelino. Before that first discussion had even ended, the elders told him that he would be baptized into the Church, even telling him the exact day he would be baptized.
“I’m not going to get baptized,” Marcelino countered. “I want only to talk to you.”
The missionaries gave him a Book of Mormon and asked him to read several verses and pray that night about their message. He did so but felt nothing.
During a subsequent discussion, however, Elder Zanni asked him, “Would it be all right if we prayed so you can ask Heavenly Father if what we have been teaching you is true?”
As he prayed, Marcelino says, “my heart began to burn fervently within me. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I couldn’t even finish my prayer, and I arose from my knees.”
Elder Zanni asked Marcelino if he had felt anything during his prayer. When Marcelino told him no, the missionary said, “I felt the Spirit very strong. It’s strange that you didn’t feel anything.”
When he admitted what he had felt, Marcelino says, “the elders read from the Doctrine and Covenants, telling me that when the Lord wants us to know if something is right, He will send His peace or make our heart burn within us [see D&C 6:23; 9:8]. That day was a turning point for me.”
From then on, the Spirit labored with him and testified of the truth through numerous spiritual experiences. “I’d feel the burning again while I was alone in my apartment,” Marcelino says. “When I would open the window, I’d see the elders nearby on a corner teaching people about the Church. I could feel when they were close, and I began to take seriously what they were teaching me.”
Marcelino received a warm welcome when he began attending church. He was baptized a short while later on April 22—the exact day the missionaries had named three months earlier. Today, after serving nine years as president of the Ushuaia district, he serves as the second counselor in the presidency of the Buenos Aires north mission.
“When we read that the Lord will ‘send forth [His] word unto the ends of the earth’ [D&C 112:4], that’s Ushuaia,” says President Tossen. “Ushuaia is the end of the earth. But for those like me who found the gospel here, it’s the beginning of everything. Here you’ll find the lighthouse at the end of the world. But here is where I found faith and the lighthouse of the Lord.”

I was in another country not long ago holding a fireside for young adults. During the question-and-answer portion of the meeting, a young brother raised his hand and asked when the Church would provide more financial assistance for young adults to help them become self-reliant. I thought about this for a moment and then felt impressed to ask him if he had served a mission. He replied that he had. I asked him if he had learned to set goals while on his mission, to plan, to exercise faith, and to work diligently. He was good-natured about it and smiled as he replied that he had in fact learned those life skills. I then said to him, “You are an agent, not an object. You have the ability to act and to do whatever it is that you choose to do. You have been taught everything that you need to be successful in life. Now it is up to you to go forward in faith and to act, rather than to sit back and wait to be acted upon.” I hoped that he felt my love for him and that somehow this exchange helped him to reorient his vision for himself.

Elyssa also loves her tata (grandpa). When Elyssa was a baby, Tata would play the guitar for her. Later they sang together. Tata was with her a lot because he developed a serious disease and couldn’t go to work. Each day, he picked her up after school and took her to eat at a place of her choice.
Since Tata couldn’t go to work, he did much of the cooking at home and became a really good cook. Elyssa helped him and became a good cook herself. Their specialty was empanadas, a sort of meat pie that is held in one’s hands. Nana remembers her working beside Tata, flour all over her little face.
“They grew very close,” Nana recalls. “She was his life.”

It had been a long, disappointing day, and now Elder Cooksey and I were walking through the rain of Puerto Montt, a city in the Chile Osorno Mission. We had lost three families from our investigator pool. Two were unable—perhaps unwilling—to commit to keeping some of the commandments, while the third family felt they couldn’t leave the pastor of their current church, a man who was this family’s close, personal friend.
We knew that all three families had testimonies of the gospel, yet they were no longer interested in listening to our message. I was in the depths of despair. As we walked through the cold rain that night, I thought, What’s the use? We were struggling to share something that no one wanted to hear. I wondered what I was doing. I was in this strange country, far from family and friends, and now to make matters worse I was soaking wet.
As I dried myself after arriving home late that night, I crawled into my bed, ready to do battle with fleas. I opened the Book of Mormon at random and glanced at a page. The words of Ammon helped me find the answer to my despair.
“And we have entered into their houses and taught them, and we have taught them in their streets; yea, and we have taught them upon their hills; and we have also entered into their temples and their synagogues and taught them; and we have been cast out, and mocked, and spit upon, and smote upon our cheeks; and we have been stoned, and taken and bound with strong cords, and cast into prison; and through the power and wisdom of God we have been delivered again.
“And we have suffered all manner of afflictions, and all this, that perhaps we might be the means of saving some soul; and we supposed that our joy would be full if perhaps we could be the means of saving some” (Alma 26:29–30).
This passage brought me back to reality, and I had the answer I was looking for. That was why I was in a foreign land, and that is why we serve missions—that perhaps we might be the means of saving some soul.

Now there has been added another element. It began some years ago when drought in Africa brought hunger and death to uncounted numbers. Members of the Church were invited to contribute to a great humanitarian effort to meet the needs of those terribly impoverished people. Your contributions were numerous and generous. The work has continued because there are other serious needs in many places. The outreach of this aid has become a miracle. Millions of pounds of food, medical supplies, blankets, tents, clothing, and other materials have staved off famine and desolation in various parts of the world. Wells have been dug; crops have been planted; lives have been saved. Let me give you an example.
Neil Darlington is a chemical engineer who worked for a large industrial company in Ghana. Eventually he retired.
He and his wife were then called as a missionary couple. They were sent to Ghana. Brother Darlington says, “In areas of famine, disease, and social unrest, we were there as representatives of the Church, extending a helping hand to the destitute, the hungry, the distressed.”
In small villages they drilled new wells and repaired old ones. Those of us who have fresh, clean water in abundance can scarcely appreciate the circumstances of those who are without.
Can you picture this couple, devoted Latter-day Saint missionaries? They drill into the dry earth. Their drill reaches the water table below, and the miracle liquid comes to the surface and spills over the dry and thirsty soil. There is rejoicing. There are tears. There is now water to drink, water with which to wash, water to grow crops. There is nothing more treasured in a dry land than water. How absolutely beautiful is water pouring from a new well.
On one occasion, when the tribal chiefs and the elders of the village gathered to thank them, Brother Darlington asked the chief if he and Sister Darlington could sing a song for them. They looked into the eyes of the dark-skinned men and women before them and sang “I Am a Child of God” as an expression of their common brotherhood.
This one couple, through their efforts, have provided water for an estimated 190,000 people in remote villages and refugee camps. Contemplate, if you will, the miracle of this accomplishment.

Having earned some ready money with the orchestra on the ship, Howard bought a Ford roadster. It was neither fancy nor new, and it gave him trouble the day after he bought it. But being an excellent mechanic, Howard spent the next two days fixing it. He has been “Mr. Fix It” ever since. In the 1980s when he was in his midseventies, he drove a large white car that was reaching antique status, and as the parts would wear out, he could find no replacements. The car held great sentimental value, so he machined the parts himself with home equipment.

We had long had a problem planning spiritual, enriching family home evenings for our young children, ages two, three, and five. Then my husband suggested basing our weekly lessons on the Articles of Faith. He drew a picture chart of the first article of faith and helped the children “read” it, going over it each evening before family prayers. Within a week they had it memorized, even the two-year-old. Then, each family home evening that month focused on the concepts in that article of faith. Each month we learn a new article of faith. This approach allows us to easily plan our home evenings a month in advance, and the children really enjoy memorizing the Articles of Faith and learning the principles of the gospel.

The steady buzz of the alarm clanged into my sweet repose.
“Night over again? Oh no!”
Finally its piercing lullaby ceased, and I reluctantly stirred.
“It’s Saturday. Who needs to get up today?”
Then I saw her, sleepily gathering her robe and slippers in the dim light of the morning bedroom, stretching and slowly slipping to the door.
“Maybe she’s sick; I’ll follow.” No, she passed the bathroom. “Maybe it’s a Saturday exam, and she didn’t study during the week.” No again. “What is she getting? A notebook, pencil, and the scriptures? Can this be? Is she ill? Is this any way to act on Saturday?”
I watched her kneel before the couch in prayer, then arise and curl up on the couch, draping a blanket over her. She began to read, then stopped, seemingly to think. (“Aha, getting sleepy! I knew it wouldn’t last.”) But she was writing in her notebook, pausing, reading, writing—she seemed very intent.
Who could this strange girl be? What had motivated this unusual behavior? Then I recognized her. Why, it was me! The new me. The one who is learning what it means to hunger for the gospel.
What can I gain from scriptures and notebooks and thinking before Saturday breakfast? Much, even eternal life. How great it is to hunger for the words of God, to be filled not with bread but with truth. Perhaps I can give you some background as to how I grew into this insight.
“During this time of great excitement my mind was called up to serious reflection.” (JS—H 1:8. Italics added.)
These are the words of Joseph Smith in his boyhood at the time of religious confusion before the Restoration. As I first read these words, I marveled at his youthful capacity to think and reason deeply.
Nephi as a young man also had this gift.
“As I sat pondering in mine heart I was caught away in the Spirit of the Lord.” (1 Ne. 11:1.)
What wisdom in youth! Can we gain that wisdom or is it a special gift to a few?
As I rushed through high school days, pushed by a seemingly full schedule, I felt it would be wonderful to be caught up in the Spirit as Nephi was or to know the Lord as Joseph Smith did, yet I failed to realize, as many do, the necessity of stopping and pondering. They stopped—I didn’t.
What is pondering?
I didn’t know because I hadn’t done any. I thought I was too busy, and you can’t ponder in a hurry.
As I used to read the scriptures (when I managed to take the time), I tried to read them as I read other things—quickly, scanning, in a hurry for story content and maybe a wee bit of wisdom. I didn’t understand that to digest the scriptures, one must go slowly and learn from scratch the forgotten art of pondering. There was too much “living” to do to spend time in quiet meditation, I mistakenly thought.
In the final year of my crowded college days, I was called to teach a Sunday School class. This was the Lord’s gift to me in the form of a challenge so that I could learn to think and to ponder the things of his kingdom. I had to read and reread the scriptures and slowly ferret out the meat of the gospel verse by verse so that I could present these truths to my students. I balked sometimes at the great amount of time I had to give, and yet this gift was precious. It was water for the tiny embryo seed of my soul that had thirsted so long. I learned to a small degree how all the holy men of God learn to know God and the gospel. It is not a gift to a select few, rather a blessing predicated on the law of obedience, long hours, and study.
As I read the scriptures in these early mornings, I learned some of the basics of pondering and searching.
1. Pray always before you begin to read the scriptures. Slow your mind down and be free from this world. Also, pray all the while you read—as certain concepts of the gospel illuminate your soul or as you have questions. Don’t hesitate to call upon your Father.
2. Keep a paper and pencil handy while you read. This is a stimulating activity, and often goals, exciting ideas, or original thoughts will creep into a stale mind.
3. Go slowly! This study is not a race. No longer do you have to finish a prescribed number of chapters before you go to bed. Spend several days with a single chapter or verse. Memorize scripture and it will bloom with hidden meanings you hadn’t been cognizant of, meanings pertinent to your life today.
4. Ask questions as you read the scriptures. As I read the sacrament prayers (“O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it; that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him, and keep his commandments which he hath given them, that they may always have his Spirit to be with them.” [Moro. 4:3; italics added]), I would ask myself these questions and try to answer them:
(a) What does it mean to be sanctified?
(b) Have I shown my Father that I want to take upon myself the name of his Son? How do I show him?
(c) How can I witness that I always remember him?
(d) Do I always remember him? How can I?
Through working out these questions and answering them, I found a deeper self than I had known. Question and then call upon the Lord. As I questioned, the doors of my heart unfolded and left room for the Holy Ghost to dwell in me.
5. Stop many times during the day and ponder the single thought that you have searched out in depth. For instance, consider the truth “love your neighbor as yourself.” Repeat the scripture, question your every action, and keep the thought with you on a small card.
All of this is a matter of making yourself take the time; it’s a daily renewal. You’ll be gratified as it refreshes your viewpoint. There will be a new direction in your life and even daily revelation.
All this pondering leads to the true and deep understanding of the gospel, our mission, and God’s glory. Many times as you ponder you pave the way for the sweet peace of the Holy Ghost to enter your heart and illuminate your entire being with truth. This is the glory of the gospel and the glory of intelligence. As I have experienced these things, I have been full of a burning and exultation beyond compare as my mortal understanding has progressed beyond my mortality even for a brief moment.
“Your bosom shall burn.” (D&C 9:8.)
“Through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understanding.” (D&C 88:11.)
Our beloved prophet Joseph Fielding Smith said, “All my life I have studied and pondered the principles of the gospel and sought to live the laws of the Lord. As a result there has come into my heart a great love for him and for his work and for all those who seek to further his purposes in the earth.” (Conference Report, Oct. 1971, p. 6.)
Take the time to ponder. It is a key to unbelievable joy and knowledge here in mortality.
“I leave these sayings with you to ponder in your hearts, with this commandment which I give unto you, that ye shall call upon me while I am near—
“Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you.” (D&C 88:62–63.)

President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), writing about the association said, ”The British Mission Association is active in keeping alive the happy memories of saints and missionaries who have lived in Britain. More than that, it is endeavouring in every way possible to cultivate the spiritual interests of its members.“
To the latter end of President Hinckley’s statement, its first annual winter social recreated a traditional British event—the fish and chip supper. At the door, the members paid 15 American cents and received in exchange one British penny, to be placed on a counter between vinegar bottles and salt shakers in payment for fish and chips, served in a piece of the previous day’s newspaper. That was the easy bit. In order to buy fresh suitable fish, it was necessary to telegraph to Seattle and import it by special delivery, a distance of 800 miles!
Dancing followed and the evening closed with the singing of “God Save the King.”
As one lad from Lancashire left, he opened the kitchen door slightly, took a deep breath and remarked, ”Eh, ba gum, ’twas a good party.“3