Gospel Story Finder

Will Spurlock, Jr., is a real whiz when it comes to electronics. His determination and excellence paid off when he was awarded a first-place trophy and medal, along with a tool kit, in the North Carolina State Electrical Trades competition.
Because of his first-place finish, Will went on to represent North Carolina in the Electrical Trades International competition. His project placed fourth.
For his hard work and achievements, Will was awarded a scholarship to a technical institute to continue his schooling. He is a priest in the Dunn Branch of the Fayetteville North Carolina Stake.

It all started as an effort by the youth of the Grand Junction Colorado Stake to earn money to send to the Church refugee fund. Richard Lindsay, a talented singer, helped the youth organize a choir to produce and record a tape. The effort was a success, but the group didn’t stop there. The choir has continued to perform together and has increased in size to 18 performers.
The choir performs at stake functions and has expanded to include entertaining at community group gatherings. The choir is finding that its efforts are becoming an effective missionary tool.

Two years ago one of our daughters was seriously ill and hospitalized for several weeks. Our entire family was deeply concerned. Michelle suggested in a family home evening that her family fast for their aunt. The family agreed. The next day Michelle quietly fasted. She even asked for permission from her teacher to stay in the classroom during the lunch hour so she would not be tempted to eat. Her little brother Neal did not do so well. He cried when he arrived home from school because he had not been able to resist when a boy offered him a cookie. I was proud of both of them.

In a recent fast and testimony meeting, Charlotte, age six, bore her testimony, expressing love for her parents, the Church, and President Kimball. To her parents’ surprise, 3-year-old Laura followed. She gave a powerful sermon in a few words by saying, “I know my sisters love me. I love my sisters.” And then she sat down.

Tyler, now 5 years old and anxious to start school, prays with the maturity of an adult. His prayers are very personal and always different, as he talks to his Heavenly Father in a meaningful way. His little brother Brandon is following in his footsteps. Although it is difficult to understand him, it is obvious that he, too, loves Heavenly Father.

When I ask my grandsons what they are going to do when they turn nineteen, they all reply, “I hope they call me on a mission.” In fact, all of them have missionary savings accounts and our granddaughters are saving for temple marriage hope chests.

Not long ago my wife and I shared a family home evening with a daughter’s family. The father was a seventy and involved in stake missionary work. To our delight, Robbie, eight years old and newly baptized, brought out his father’s flip charts and gave us a discussion from the missionary lessons. I would like to be that young man’s mission president someday.

Robbie, Dan, and Melissa’s older brother Joey is mentally retarded. He lives at the training school in American Fork, Utah. When they visit him, they play with Joey and the other special children who live with him. To see how they share their love is a sacred experience. They really enjoy the opportunity of making Joey and his friends happy, and they return to their home uplifted and enriched by the experience. It causes them to love one another even more.

As we have attended the baptismal services for our grandchildren, we’ve shared their happiness in becoming members of the Church. After her baptism, Amy innocently wrote in her journal: “When I was baptized, it was fun because I became a member of the Church. … Now it is all over and I don’t have any more sins and I don’t have to worry.” Seeing these precious children reach out to take their fathers’ hands in complete faith and trust as they enter the baptismal font has been one of the most beautiful sights I have witnessed. Then, joining with others in placing my hands on their heads as they have been confirmed and having their fathers give them the gift of the Holy Ghost and a father’s blessing have been experiences I shall never forget.

If I sound like a proud grandfather, I am—just as proud as your grandfathers are of you. Our grandchildren are our treasure—special spirits entrusted to us by our Father in heaven. We know what a royal generation you are! We love you and have faith in you.

I pray that my grandchildren, and grandchildren everywhere, will understand what Jesus taught and will be converted to His gospel. I hope they remain as little children, full of love and faith, so that they all might enter into the kingdom of heaven.

One day I invited Mike* to come to church and sit in my class. Mike was my age but had stopped attending church completely by the time he was 12. We had remained friends over the years as I had served as the deacons quorum president, the teachers quorum president, and first assistant to the bishop in the priests quorum. He had been the topic of many fellowshipping discussions and was often part of my prayers as the years had passed. Once in a while Mike would accept my invitations to come to an activity. It always surprised me when he did, so I kept inviting him.
At that time, Mike had long, black hair and a beard. His complexion was dark and pleasant. I don’t remember when I invited him to my Primary class, but one day he showed up.
“Class, I would like to introduce you to my friend Mike,” is how I began my lesson. “He is visiting us today.”
Mike sat next to me in front. The children sat in a semicircle with their eyes fixed on him. They were much quieter than usual. I was about five or six minutes into the lesson when one little boy got up from his chair and walked across the room and stood directly in front of my friend. The boy paused for a moment and then climbed onto his lap. I continued with the lesson as I watched the two of them from the corner of my eye.
The boy sat looking into Mike’s face. Mike was quite uncomfortable but did not interrupt the lesson or turn the boy away. The other children watched the two of them for a few minutes.
Then one of the girls climbed off her seat and approached Mike. I was intently interested in seeing how Mike would react and did not want to instruct the two children to return to their seats. The girl stood with her hand on Mike’s knee looking into his face.
Then it happened. The boy on Mike’s lap reached up with both hands and turned Mike’s face directly to his. I stopped my lesson to see what was about to unfold.
With the innocence of a child, he said to Mike, “Are you Jesus?”
The look on Mike’s face was total surprise. It seemed, as I glanced at the children’s faces, they all had the same question on their minds.
Mike looked at me as if to say, Help, what do I say?
I stepped in. “No, this is not Jesus. This is His brother.”
Mike looked at me as if in shock.
Then without hesitation the boy in Mike’s lap reached up and wrapped his arms around Mike’s neck. “I can tell,” the boy said as he hugged Mike.
The rest of the children smiled and nodded in agreement as their simple question was answered. Mike blinked back the tears in response to the love he felt from this small Sunbeam. The lesson went on, but that day the teacher who taught the most was a three-year-old child.
Mike spent more than a year getting ready to serve a mission. It thrilled me to learn that he left for the mission field a few months before I returned. I still think of the scripture in Matthew 18:5: “And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me.”

When Israel and Elizabeth Haven Barlow left Nauvoo, Illinois, for the Salt Lake Valley in 1848, they left behind a baby boy buried in a small Nauvoo cemetery. Little James Nathaniel Barlow, their first child, had died shortly after birth in May 1841.
With their departure for the Salt Lake Valley, Israel and Elizabeth likely never expected to gaze again upon their son’s grave. But when Israel was called on a mission to England a few years later, he passed through Nauvoo as he traveled east. At Elizabeth’s request, he stopped to locate their son’s grave and move his remains to the main cemetery, east of town.
After a day of fruitless searching, Israel sought help from the local caretaker. The next day, they found the grave, located next to James’s cousin Mary. Tragically, the coffins were decayed and broken. In a letter to his wife, Israel wrote, “I therefore turned away and concluded that I would leave them there till the future.”
He had not walked far from the grave when he heard a voice. Recalling the experience, he wrote, “It was not audible, but so distinct to my mind that I could not gainsay it: ‘Daddy, do not leave me here.’” Israel returned to the grave, concluding to remove his little boy after all. “I felt a very peculiar calm and peace of mind which before I did not feel. … This much I will say: that I never was more conscious of any duty done in my life.”
On September 2, 1853, Israel Barlow and the caretaker moved the bodies of James and Mary to Nauvoo’s main cemetery, marking the place with “stones at the head and foot of the graves.”
Israel told Elizabeth that as he lingered at the graveside, “I felt a desire to dedicate myself and all that I might call mine into the hands of the Lord, that I might be counted worthy to come forth with [James] in the morning of the First Resurrection.”
After Israel Barlow bade one last farewell to his little boy, he wrote to his wife, “The thoughts of absenting myself far away, never more in life to return to [James’s] grave, wrung the last thread of affection I bore till it was broken with tears on his grave.”
I imagine that more tears—tears of joy this time—were shed on December 4, 1889. On that day, little James Nathaniel Barlow was sealed to his parents in the Logan Utah Temple. By then, Israel had passed away, so others stood as proxy for him and James.

The conversion of Jordan Vajda, a fine young man who had been a Catholic priest, is instructive. When he was in grade school he had Latter-day Saint friends in his class who shared with him their love of the gospel. At age 13 he found an offer from the Church for a free Book of Mormon. He sent for it, and two sister missionaries responded. They were surprised that he was only 13 and had requested the Book of Mormon. He was impressed with what they taught and what he felt, but after discussions with his family, he decided to become a priest in the Catholic Church. As he prepared to be a priest, he remained interested in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

He studied at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California. He became acquainted with many who take the position we are not Christians, but he also associated with the students at the Latter-day Saint institute of religion at Berkeley. He decided to write a master’s thesis on why certain people maintain that we are not Christians. Two of the issues he addressed in his master’s thesis were:

1. The nature of God and our belief that God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ are the two separate individuals the Prophet Joseph beheld in the First Vision.
2. Exaltation and our belief in eternal progression—that we can progress to live with and be like God.

He compared these doctrinal issues with Pre–Nicene Creed early Christian writers and determined that there was significant support for the position of the Church of Jesus Christ. He concluded in his master’s thesis, which has since been published by the Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies:

Ironically, those who would excoriate Mormons for believing in the doctrine of exaltation actually agree with them that the early church experienced a “great apostasy” on fundamental doctrinal questions.

This was primarily an academic pursuit. He became a priest in the Dominican order and had assignments in Arizona and then at the University of Washington. There he came in contact with our missionaries.

After being taught by missionaries and praying sincerely, he received inspiration that he should resign as a Catholic priest and be baptized and confirmed into the Church of Jesus Christ. His letter of resignation expressed his love and appreciation for the Catholic Church and then stated:

But why am I doing what I am doing? To put it most simply: I have found a fuller truth and goodness and beauty in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After years of study and reflection, I have come to believe that the LDS Church is the only true and living Church of Jesus Christ, guided and led by living apostles and prophets.

I believe that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, called and ordained for this, the dispensation of the fullness of times. I love the Book of Mormon; I believe it to be the word of God for us in these latter days.

I can no longer deny my feelings, my heart, my conscience. I cannot deny the confirming witness of the Holy Ghost which has come after much prayer and soul-searching. At this point in my life, at this moment, as I look forward to and prepare for my convert baptism, I have found a happiness greater than I ever imagined possible.

This good man is completely active in the Church, has been to the temple, teaches the Gospel Doctrine class in his ward, and has a management position in a hospital in Seattle.

A friend shared an experience from a recent sacrament meeting she attended where a young man spoke. After giving an outstanding message, the young man stopped and folded his notes. He admitted that he had not been the one to write his talk; he had given that assignment to ChatGPT! He then continued with his real message: Although the talk was well written and doctrinally accurate, it lacked one thing?the Holy Ghost. AI could not provide the spirit of revelation or truth. The young man powerfully testified of personal revelation and the necessity of the Holy Ghost in identifying truth from error.

My daughter attended an especially for youth conference here a few months back and one of the speakers motivated her to get her patriarchal blessing. She set up her appointment and we went to the patriarch's office at 6:00 AM. He gave her a beautiful blessing and promised her that the Lord would always help her in her decisions-she would just need to read the scriptures for any answer and when it was right she would have tears come to her eyes. My daughter is not normally sentimental, but when she walked out of the office she had tears in her eyes and said, "I felt the Spirit, I know what it is." My wife and I were thrilled to see her have such a positive experience-hopefully we can provide many more opportunities for her before she has to face life's challenges.

“That was a very busy time for both of us, but I remember how one day we were out fishing not far from here. I knew that Nate and his wife were having some troubles then, though I didn’t understand all the circumstances and everything. Eventually we started talking about it. I told him that I thought he was risking a lot for this religion, with his marriage and all. He nodded, said he knew that. So then I asked him straight out why he was doing it. He was really quiet for a minute, and then he said, ‘Jack, do you remember those nights out on the trail when we slept under the stars?’
“We used to stay awake for hours talking about God and life and what we were supposed to be doing with our time. We put a lot of thought into it, but never got very far. Anyway, Nate told me, ‘I finally found answers for those questions we always wondered about.’ Sometimes Nate had told me that he was afraid of being alone. He was afraid that one day his friends and family would all be gone, and he’d be alone. But now he said that he knew that God knew and loved him. He said that God would help him in his hard times, that he was helping him right then.
“I remember being amazed at the excitement and passion he spoke with. He was a changed man, and there was something in his voice that gave me hope.”
Jack paused. A placid thoughtfulness had settled over his face. “Now, I didn’t understand everything he told me right then, and it was actually a long time before I did, but by the time he finished speaking I had this beautiful, peaceful feeling that made me want to believe everything he’d said. I never doubted Nate after that.” Jack looked at the engine, then handed Tim the wrench. “I think we’re done.”

I understand what you are going through. I have struggled through difficult times in which my testimony has been shaken. The way I was able to get through it—and gain the strengthened testimony that I have today—was with constant scripture study and prayer. I read my scriptures every opportunity I got. I prayed morning and night, straining to feel the Spirit. Yet it all seemed to be in vain. But one day, when I got home from school, I knelt by my bed. I don’t know how long I prayed, but I did receive an answer. Just pray always. Study the scriptures. You will find the answer you’ve been looking for.
Christopher W., 15, Nevada, USA

The girls staying at one house had a three-day running water fight with the boys staying at a house a few blocks away. As they were packing to leave, the girls made a sign and presented it to the opposition. It said, “To be continued at next year’s youth conference.”
But more than a water fight would be continued. They had all learned about bridging gaps, and that knowledge helps in that carnival we call life.

Chita’s Christmas Tree
When Chita and Papa go to look for a Christmas tree, Mama packs them peanut butter sandwiches. But they get hot, sugary waffles from the waffle man and give the sandwiches to Henry, their horse (he loves them!). Chita finds the perfect tree, and Papa carves her name on the trunk. Will Santa Claus find it and bring it Christmas Eve? Chita worries about it as she helps Mama bake.

When I was around 10 years old, my mum was serving as a youth teacher in Oakland California Stake’s Oakland 8th Ward. One weekday evening, we were at our chapel for ward activities. Our Primary activity finished early, so I hung out in the recreation hall with my cousins and friends while I waited for mum, who was helping to run youth night.

We played tag and hide-and-seek, but there were so many of us kids, the hall was crowded. Some of the older kids wanted to go play outside because there was a lot more space out there, and also because outside was darker than in the hall (it was after 7:00 pm by now).

I wasn’t so sure about following them. I asked if we could keep playing inside, but my friends just said, “[We’ll] be fine outside. There’s a lot of us. It’s going to be okay.” Still, I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I decided to ask my mum for permission to play outside.

“No,” was mum’s reply. Even though I was uncomfortable about following my friends, I was still disappointed not to be allowed outside. We’d been having so much fun together. “Why can’t I go?” I asked. Mum’s only reasoning was that she didn’t want me playing in the dark where she couldn’t see me.

When I reluctantly told my friends to go ahead without me, it felt right. It was like the Spirit was confirming my mum’s warning, but that moment was immediately followed by one of weakness. It was hard watching my friends file out the hall door without me, so I jumped to my feet and ran with them, determined to disobey my mum.

Just as I reached the outside door of the chapel, I felt as if a hand was holding me back. I stopped and turned around, but no one was there to have held my hand. Stunned, I let the rest of my friends leave the chapel without me, and then I went back and sat by myself outside the classroom my mum was in.

In the 10 or 15 minutes that I waited for youth night to wrap up, I reviewed in my mind what had just happened. I was still upset that I wasn’t outside playing with my friends, but I kept thinking about the uneasy feeling I’d had since it was first suggested we leave the chapel, about my mom’s instruction for me to stay inside, and, of course, about the hand that held me back.

I remembered the brief sense of peace I’d felt when I first decided to obey my mum, and I realized that as I waited for her, I could feel the Spirit again, letting me know that I’d—again—made the right choice.

To this day, I have no idea why it was so important for me to stay in the chapel that night, and it doesn’t matter. I am just grateful for the Holy Spirit who guides and comforts us, even when we don’t understand, and I’m grateful that through my obedience, the Spirit allowed us to have a nice drive home after ward activities, without a lecture from my mum.

Among the monolithic serpents, jaguars, and other creatures of ancient American worship, 12 attractive young people walked and pointed and laughed and whispered and looked. There is a lot to see in the Mexican National Museum of Anthropology—the finest anthropological museum in the world.
The young people were from Benemérito de las Americas, an LDS school that includes primary, secondary, normal, and preparatory schools. Its students come from all over Mexico, and its graduates are making names for themselves in all walks of life. There is not a finer school in all Mexico. Today 12 students had come to explore their heritage in Chapultepec Park, the ancient pleasure gardens of the Aztec emperors and now the largest and most beautiful recreational area in Mexico City.
The Museum of Anthropology was their first stop. Mexico owes its language and much of its legal and cultural system to its Spanish ancestors, but it owes its deepest pride and sense of belonging to its Indian forefathers. It is to the Indian cultures, both pre-Hispanic and modern, that the museum is dedicated.
The group stared in awe at the Colossus of Tula, one of the huge stone sentries that guarded a Toltec temple. They admired the intricate carvings and colorful frescoes of Mayan temples. They examined the mysterious Olmec stone heads that are as tall as a tall man. They smiled at the Tarascan ceramic sculptures that depict a long-ago everyday life, and wondered at the Aztec sun stone and the monolithic Aztec serpents and skull-faced deities. They were thrilled with the incredible workmanship of the ancient artists and stoneworkers as they visited hundreds of displays from many ancient peoples. They read the stories of vanished civilizations in stone and clay with a growing sense of pride, because these were their ancestors, and because they knew, as the learned men who built the museum did not, that they were of the house of Israel.
They then moved to the upper level of the museum where Mexico’s modern Indian cultures are represented. When the museum was built, representatives of tribes all over Mexico were brought in to build authentic dwellings and implements for the exhibits, and the young visitors gained new insight into their country.
After leaving the museum the group paused a moment by the fountain-home of an immense stone statue of Tlaloc, the ancient American rain god. When the 168-ton statue was excavated and moved to Mexico City to be displayed at the museum, the city was lashed by the heaviest rainstorm ever recorded in the dry season.
Next the group strolled through Chapultepec Park. The park is immense, covering many acres of grass and trees, several museums, an amusement park, a zoo, a botanical garden, sports fields, playgrounds, a lake, bridle paths, and many refreshment stands. Along their route they stopped at a kiosk by the lake to eat a snack, watch the boaters on the lake, and feed the friendly swans.
Then it was on through the park, past happy crowds and balloon salesmen, and even some men selling wind-up toy monsters, to cyprus-hung Chapultepec castle atop its hill. When Cortez arrived, Montezuma had a palace there, and it wasn’t long till a Spanish viceroy had erected a stronghold on the spot. The Emperor Maxmillian made it into a sumptuous palace, and it was later to serve as a military academy. Today it is the National Museum of History, housing artifacts, paintings, documents, and memorabilia from the stormy and colorful history of Mexico. It was here that young cadets clutched the Mexican flag and lept to their deaths rather than surrender during the Mexican-American war. The six niños heroes, as they are known, are now pictured on a ceiling mural in the castle. Here Maxmillian and Carlotta established their ill-fated court, and from here Maxmillian watched his “empire” crumble when France withdrew her troops.
Bold murals covering the broad sweep of Mexican history, filled with the image of the patient, strong, indestructible Indian and the flash of uniform and sword, were everywhere. Looking down from the walls are the great figures in Mexican history—Father Hidalgo, whose strong voice signaled the beginning of the revolution against Spain; Benito Juarez, the farsighted Indian who arose from anonymous poverty to become the president of the republic and the most beloved figure in Mexican history; Zapata, Guerrero, the controversial Villa, and others who ignited Mexico’s second great revolution, a revolution for equality and reform that Mexico’s leaders say will never end; and many others, great and small.
The young Latter-day Saints studied the symbols of their nation with deep respect and patriotism. It was clear that they believe in their country and are determined to contribute their own talents to its greatness and goodness.
After leaving the castle they wandered around the grounds for awhile, just as Maxmillian might have wandered on a cool afternoon. They visited the only known statue to a cricket, built there because Chapultepec means cricket in the language of the Aztecs.
After leaving the castle they paused a moment for amusement in a hall of mirrors, where the curved surfaces reflected grotesque caricatures of their laughter.
Their last stop was the Museum of Modern Art where Rivera, Orozco, Siquieros, Tamayo, and other great Mexican artists are displayed. Mexican art tends to be bold and vibrant and vital, making strong statements in strong colors, but there is often a sadness too, because Mexico has known sadness. Having seen the painting and sculptures indoors, the young people walked through the gardens outside, studying the large abstract sculptures planted there and discussing their possible meanings, sometimes seriously, sometimes with tongue securely in cheek.
While waiting for their school bus to pick them up, the young people had time for some reflections on their day and their lives.
“I was amazed by the artistry of those ancient craftsmen,” one young lady said. “We can see the kind of life they lived and almost live it again with them by studying what they left behind.” Another commented, “I’ve been impressed with everything we have seen about our ancestors. I could see how these old cultures related to the history of the Book of Mormon.”
An 18-year-old student commented, “I was impressed by the philosophy of the great poets and thinkers of ancient America. Today I could feel as they felt and understand them.”
Another young person found the visit to Chapultepec castle to be the most moving experience. “It brought great honor to our nation when the six niños heroes gave their lives rather than let their country’s flag be dishonored,” she said.
One thoughtful young man felt he saw the hand of the Lord in the history he had studied at the castle. “I could see,” he said, “how the Lord prepared Mexico for the gospel. Great men such as Hildago, Juarez, Guerrero, and Allende made it possible for us to have liberty and religious tolerance, and we can see how the purposes of the Lord are fulfilled.”
The young students all share a profound loyalty to the Church school they attend. “Benemérito prepares us to be leaders of the Church and the nation,” one young man said. “From Benemérito will come great architects, engineers, doctors, lawyers, chemists, physicists, and teachers. If we study hard and live as we should, we can help fulfill the prophetic promise that the Lamanites will blossom as a rose.”
Above all, these young men and women love the Lord. “I am grateful that I have been taught the gospel,” a young girl said. “The gospel is the greatest blessing in my life. I know that someday I will see my Father in heaven, and so I will keep his commandments.”
The lives of these young men and women are reminiscent of these words by the ancient sage Huehuetlantolli, engraved on the wall of the museum:
And they began to teach them:
How they should live.
How they should respect people.
How they should give themselves to that which is proper and upright.
That they should avoid evil,
Fleeing quickly from wickedness,
Perversion and greed.

“I’ll race you to the church!” Mórmon said, pointing to the church steeple poking out above the palm trees. Then he ran as fast as he could to stay ahead of his younger brother, Morian.
The boys and their parents had already walked about a mile from their home, but Mórmon and Morian were still racing hard when they reached the metal gate outside their ward meetinghouse. They stopped to catch their breath.
Before they could decide who won, a boy called out to them, “Want to play futebol?”
Mórmon loved futebol, but he and his family were going to clean the ward building so it would be ready for church the next day.
Mórmon shook his head. “Not now—maybe later!” he called back.
Soon Mórmon and Morian were working hard. Mórmon moved chairs and swept floors with Papa while Morian mopped floors with Mama.
Later the boys were washing mirrors in the bathroom together. “I didn’t think I’d like cleaning the church, but it’s fun,” Morian said. “What about you, Mórmon? Is that why you came instead of playing futebol?”
Mórmon thought about Papa. He was the bishop of their ward, but he still took time to help clean the meetinghouse.
“I’m here because I want to be like Papa,” Mórmon said.
Then he thought about the missionaries in his ward. They were busy knocking on doors and sharing the Book of Mormon with others. They would invite people to come to church at the building the boys were cleaning.
I’m here because someday I want to serve a mission too, Mórmon thought. I can help the missionaries by getting the church ready.
Mórmon thought about tomorrow, when he and his brother would get up at 6:00 a.m., walk to church in their white shirts and ties, and prepare the chairs and songbooks in the Primary room.
I’m here because I want to serve in a Church calling, he thought.
Mórmon thought about how he would soon be a deacon. He would pass the sacrament and do many other things to serve.
I’m here because next year I will receive the priesthood, and I want to do everything I can now to get ready.
Mórmon had already done something to prepare for the priesthood: he had earned his Faith in God Award. He was already learning to live the gospel and serve others.
Finally he looked at his brother’s reflection in the mirror and smiled.
“I’m here because I love the Lord,” he said, “and because serving now will help me get ready to serve later.”

I remember an experience with a new missionary companion. During the first days I thought that I knew better than he did. When we intended to have a talk together, he asked me to say a prayer. I vividly remember at the very start of the prayer this feeling of peace and love nearly overwhelming me and I heard myself say how sorry I was for being so arrogant and unkind and I asked forgiveness from my companion. This changed our whole companionship. I do not exactly know which gift I received, but I cherished it as a tender mercy from God.

Robin stared into the swimming pool. He tried not to think about how far he had to swim. All that mattered was earning the badge. The seepferdchen (seahorse) badge would show everybody in Germany that he knew how to swim all by himself.
I can do this! Robin thought. He took a deep breath and jumped.
SPLASH!
The cool water felt great on such a hot day.
Take it one meter at a time, Dad had told him. Don’t think about all 25 meters at once.
Robin kept his head down. He moved his arms and legs the way he’d been practicing for months. Every few seconds he pulled up for air.
Kick. Stroke. Kick. Stroke.
Suddenly, the swimming teacher blew her whistle. Robin looked up in surprise.
“Way to go,” his teacher said.
He’d done it!
Robin laughed and did a few underwater somersaults to celebrate. He was a seahorse!
When Robin got home, he hurried to find Dad.
“Dad, look!”
Robin’s dad set down his hammer. As soon as Dad saw the seepferdchen badge, he smiled wide.
“On your first try?” Dad gave Robin a big hug. “What do you want to do to celebrate?”
Robin thought for a second. “What I would really like is to go to the pool with you. I want to show you what I can do.”
Dad smiled even bigger. “Now that would be a celebration for both of us. As soon as I have some time, we’ll go.”
Robin pumped his fist in the air. He couldn’t wait to have the badge sewn on his swimsuit and go swimming with Dad.
Several days passed. Robin kept asking about the pool, but something was always in the way. Dad always seemed to be busy.
One morning Robin knelt by his bed to pray. At the end of the prayer, he added one more thing.
“Please give my dad some extra time so we can go to the pool. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As Robin opened his eyes, he heard Dad knock on the door.
“Let’s head to the pool. I want to see you in action!”
Robin’s jaw dropped. “Dad! You won’t believe this. I just prayed that you would get some extra time so we could go.”
Dad folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. “Now, isn’t that interesting? You see, I just heard a quiet, clear message from the Holy Ghost that I need to take you to the pool. Sounds like we’d better go!”
They had a fantastic trip. Robin showed Dad how he could swim for 25 meters without stopping. Dad was impressed. And Robin was impressed with Dad’s underwater somersaults. Dad could do five in a row!
“I’m glad Heavenly Father gave you some extra time today,” Robin said.
“Actually,” Dad said, “I think I was just letting myself get too busy. I think the Holy Ghost was reminding me that we have to make time for each other, don’t you think? I promise to do my part.”
Robin smiled. “Me too!”
Dad’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “One more thing. Have I ever told you that I’ve never lost a splash fight?”
Robin grinned back. “The day’s not over yet!”
This story takes place in Germany. Read more about Germany on pages F6–F7.

Today, special circumstances allow me to introduce you to a wonderful woman, who, like all of us, has been blessed with gifts and talents from the Lord. She has not had the privilege of attending BYU, but she personifies what we are about. She has spent a lifetime “anxiously engaged” in good causes and has brought forth “much righteousness.” In addition to being an exemplary member missionary in Norway, her initiatives led to the establishment of the Norwegian and Danish lecture series here in our David M. Kennedy Center. She joined the Church in 1964 when my father was mission president in Norway. She is seated in the audience today. [May I ask Sister Rigmor Heistø to please stand. Thank you.]

Sister Heistø is 78 years old, and she came from Norway two weeks ago to hear Norwegian Supreme Court Justice Georg Fr. Rieber-Mohn give a lecture in the Kennedy Center. She is the person who made the original contact with Justice Rieber-Mohn and put me in touch with him.

Two years ago Sister Heistø read a newspaper article in which Justice Rieber-Mohn, then attorney general for Norway, lamented about the disintegrating family and cultural values in Norway. In the newspaper interview he warned that the continued pursuit of materialism could destroy the country, and he called for a greater emphasis on teaching values.

Sister Heistø thought the attorney general should know that a church was already doing the very things he advocated. So she wrote to him, told him about our church, and sent him some brochures. A week later the attorney general telephoned, thanked Sister Heistø for writing to him, and invited her to meet with him. As a result, she had a two-hour meeting with the attorney general in which she explained the Church’s teachings and programs.

At the conclusion of their visit, Sister Heistø suggested that the attorney general visit Utah to learn more about the Mormons personally. She then said she had a friend at BYU who would be happy to invite him to visit Utah and give a lecture at BYU. I was contacted, I extended the invitation, and we had the privilege of hosting Justice Rieber-Mohn and his son just two weeks ago.

It was a wonderful visit, and Justice Rieber-Mohn gave an excellent lecture in the David M. Kennedy Center. He discussed his observations overseeing criminal prosecution in Norway for the past 11 years and placed the primary blame for increased crime on the breaking down of the family and the pursuit of materialism. In a radio interview in Salt Lake City discussing his observations, the interviewer asked if Justice Rieber-Mohn had gained any insight during his visit to Utah that he might take back to Norway to help resolve the problems he had identified. His response was, “Well, I should take the whole Mormon Church with me and the family life you have, and we would see a rapid decline in all the negative signs developing of which I have spoken” (transcription of radio interview provided by Dave Porter, LDS Public Affairs, 5 March 1998). Here is a man who prior to meeting Sister Heistø admitted that the only thing he knew about Mormons was what he learned in high school regarding polygamy—and now he is a good friend to the Church and BYU.

A few years ago, on a beautiful fall evening, my wife and I were in the temple in Kirtland, Ohio. It was late fall, and the afternoon sun was streaking through the old, wavy, hand-blown windowpanes. The building was light and airy and magnificent. Since some of my forebears helped in its construction, I was humbled and honored to be under its roof. Within its walls and under its spell, I was enchanted by its beauty. I was so impressed with the building that I came back to Church headquarters and told the Brethren that it would be wonderful if that building were still operating as one of our temples.
Elder Boyd K. Packer corrected my thinking when he said, “We do not have the building, but when our people left, they took with them that which was important. They preserved the keys of the ordinances, the covenants, and the sealing power. They took with them all the essentials which we have today.”

Major Brazilian cities like São Paulo equal any in the world with their forests of office towers, supermarkets, sophisticated shopping malls, and high-rise apartment complexes. They also have their share of tightly packed shanty communities, called favelas.
Maria Leopoldina do Espírito Santo lives alone at the edge of a favela in a small house made from packing cases and surplus construction material. A few years ago Maria saw another favela resident, Lindy Now, pass by each Sunday. On asking Lindy where she was going, Maria was invited to church. The missionaries visited her, and within two weeks she was baptized.
Maria used to help support herself by doing laundry for members and missionaries. Now, stricken with Parkinson’s disease, she says she gets by “on a small government pension and on the help of friends.” She can’t always make it to the Jardim Das Palmas Ward by herself, “but some of the Relief Society sisters take me by car. I love the hymns, and prayer is a part of my life.”
Born into a nation that has the largest Roman Catholic population in the world, Maria says she was never active in her former religion. “But my testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is strong. I’m going to attend meetings just as long as I can.”