Gospel Story Finder

John Howell suggested I meet with the full-time missionaries. Instead, I opted to have my brother and one of his friends, another returned missionary, teach me. As they taught me, I wanted external, incontrovertible evidence that what I was learning was true. Without that proof, I didn’t want any further discussions.
When I asked how they knew the truth, they replied, “We have read and prayed and felt a witness from the Holy Ghost.” They told me I needed that same witness.
That night I went into a grove of trees near my neighborhood. I don’t know how long I prayed, but I did so with absolute intent. I repeatedly asked God the same four questions: “Is the Book of Mormon the word of God? Did You and Your Son appear to Joseph Smith? Is this the true Church of Jesus Christ? Am I good enough to be a member?”
The answer to each question came in a whisper to my soul—“Yes”—four times. Those whispers were accompanied by serene and sublime feelings.
With my head bowed, kneeling in prayer and drenched with tears, I exclaimed: “If this is the answer You will give to me, then I accept it and will commit my life fully to You and this gospel as You reveal it to me.” Words cannot express the thoughts, feelings, and truths that enveloped me.
The witness I received that night was incontrovertible, and it’s as strong now as it was then. Since that prayer, God has proved those answers to me in thousands of miraculous and practical ways.

Many people in the scriptures who went to the desert were humbled. When I moved to the United Arab Emirates, I thought my ward would be the same as my old one. The Church was the same, but my ward was different.
There were many people from other countries. The nearest temple was a long flight away. I’ve been humbled by this ward, from the sisters who stay late to clean the church to the brothers who check up on everyone. So I guess you could say I was humbled in the desert too.
Brooklyn R., 13, Abu Dhabi, UAE

My father died of cancer when I was 4 years old. I grew up wondering why he had to die. I questioned God and asked why life was so unfair. Ten years later, when I was 14, I met the missionaries. As they taught us, my mother felt that they were teaching the truth and that we should listen. When we joined the Church, the gospel of Jesus Christ and an understanding of the plan of salvation came into my life at a time when I really needed it.
Later, when I was sealed to my parents in the temple, my mother whispered to me, “I feel your father’s presence.” As I thought about the blessings of being sealed, I knew that the Lord was aware of our family and that He had been with us often, even when we were unaware.

“Why can’t you keep your half of the room clean?” Alicia complained to her new stepsister. “It looks like a tornado just hit the place!”
“It isn’t that bad,” Megan answered. “Anyway, as soon as softball season ends, I’ll have more time to clean up. I may have to spend some extra time in practice for the next few days.” She folded a pair of jeans and put them into a drawer, threw her baseball mitt onto a chair, and put her pajamas under a pillow. “There—a start!”
Alicia sighed. She was glad to have Megan as a stepsister, but they were about as different as night and day. Megan was tall, slender, and very good at sports—but not very good at cleaning her room. Alicia was short, not-so-slender, and very good at cleaning her room—but her athletic skills were limited to being a substitute umpire in the junior girls softball league.
No wonder, then, that after Megan’s dad married Alicia’s mom, patience was in demand in their new home!
Actually it was a new home only for Alicia and her mom. After the marriage, they had moved into Megan’s dad’s house. “Welcome to my jungle!” Megan had said. “Here, let me push some of my junk out of the way. You can have this half of the room, OK?”
Alicia’s heart sank. Her old room had been as neat as a pin. Here, the clutter was unavoidable! On the floor were magazines, socks, baseball mitts, jeans, shoes, softball trophies, pillows, even orange peelings. Well, Mom told me there would be adjustments, she thought. I guess this is what she meant.
There were two more adjustments Alicia had to make. The first one came that weekend. Alicia’s old ward had been small enough that everyone knew everyone else’s first name. That’s where her dad’s funeral had been held three years ago. That’s where she had been baptized, had learned about Heavenly Father’s love, and had prayed for guidance when her mom said that she was going to remarry.
Her new ward was so big! So many people! After Megan had introduced her friends, she felt a little better. Singing the old familiar hymns was comforting too.
“You’ll get used to our new ward,” her mom told her that first Sunday. “Just remember, the important thing is not the building, but the reason for the building—to worship Heavenly Father and to learn to live the gospel.”
The next adjustment came when Alicia went to her new school. All the kids stared at her in her new classes.
Some of them giggled and whispered behind their hands to each other.
The teachers were all nice. And when Miss Younger found out that Alicia had been a substitute umpire at her old school, she asked her to umpire at the softball game that evening. “Megan’s team is playing for the school championship,” Miss Younger explained. “Our regular umpire is sick today. We could really use someone with your experience.”
Alicia wasn’t sure she was that experienced, but Megan had said, “Oh, come on, Alicia! You can do it! Just call them the way you see them.”
“OK,” Alicia had reluctantly agreed.
Now she reminded Megan as they headed out the door for the ballpark, “Remember that during the game I’m not your stepsister—I’m the umpire!”
“Fair enough!” Megan replied. “And you remember that if we win this game, we go to the city championship game next week.” She grinned. “I hope that won’t affect your decisions, Miss Umpire!”
“Why would it?” Alicia asked.
Megan laughed. “Because that means it would be another week before my half of the room gets cleaned!”
Alicia laughed too. “Well, if you win, I’ll clean your half of the room myself.” She quickly added, “But just for one week. And I don’t do orange peelings!”
* * * * * *
The stands were crowded. Alicia’s heart pounded as she took her place behind the catcher. “Play ball!” she called. She hoped that her voice sounded more confident than she felt.
As the game progressed, Alicia’s self-confidence returned. Finally it was the bottom of the last inning. Megan’s team, one run behind, was at bat.
The first batter flied out to the shortstop. The second batter drew a base on balls. After the next batter struck out swinging, Megan—the cleanup hitter—was up!
“Home run! Home run!” her team’s fans shouted.
“Strike out! Strike out!” the other team’s fans screamed.
“Strike one!” Alicia called as Megan let the first pitch go by without swinging.
Megan turned to look questioningly at Alicia but didn’t say a word. She tightened her grip on the bat, took a practice swing, then stepped back into the batter’s box.
The next pitch was right over the middle of the plate. Megan put all her strength into a smooth, level swing. The crack of the bat against the ball echoed over the field like a rifle shot. The ball arced high, headed for deep center field.
The center fielder took off like a small cyclone, but the ball landed just beyond her outstretched glove. Quickly scrambling after it, she wheeled and threw with all her might toward home plate.
The runner on first pounded around second, then third. The ball and the runner seemed to reach home plate at the same time.
“Out!” shouted Alicia, raising her thumb high in the air.
“What? No way!” Megan’s teammates shouted angrily, crowding around Alicia. Their shouting grew louder and angrier. Butterflies began doing flip-flops in her stomach.
Megan pushed her way through the crowd. “Leave her alone! If she called her out, that’s the way it was.” She led Alicia through the crowd. “Come on, Ump, let’s go home.”
Home! The word sounded like music to Alicia. She had a new ward, a new school, a new home—and a new family. She smiled gratefully at Megan. “You can stop calling me ‘umpire’ now. The game’s over. Now you can call me ‘sister!’” She laughed. “And even though your team didn’t win, I’ll still help you clean your half of the room!”

Fourth, we began attending the Church at the missionaries’ invitation—and what a friendly reception! We soon learned what true sociality is, and sincere brotherhood and sisterhood which bind together people of all nations and tongues. “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). What a wonderful feeling of belonging, of being needed and appreciated, beyond anything we had previously experienced.
Soon we were singing in choirs; visiting other Church members in their homes, just as they visited us; and giving service to others in some of the many service projects the Church provides. We were able to choose from a wide range of activities—drama, dancing, sport—to supplement the spiritual progress that came rapidly by worshiping and learning with other Latter-day Saints. Everyone needs to experience the warmth of friendship and happy social activity on a continuing basis.

I’ll always remember the dinner at my 40th high school reunion. I was anxious to see old friends I hadn’t seen in years and find out what had happened in their lives since high school.
While we were chatting at a table with 8 or 10 other classmates during dinner, one of my old friends, Greg Link, mentioned that he had been baptized into the Church when he was in his 20s.
Then he asked a piercing question: “Why was it that none of you offered me a Book of Mormon in high school? Didn’t you think I was Church material?”
Another old friend—who wasn’t a member of the Church—said, “You could have had one of mine; I was given about 50 of them!”
I was stunned. Back in high school, if you had told me that Greg would be baptized and become a successful motivational speaker, I wouldn’t have believed it. I really liked Greg. He was the kind of loyal friend you could count on when you needed him. But I knew he liked to party, and he had a knack for getting into trouble. It just didn’t ever occur to me that he would have any interest in hearing about the Church. The funny thing was, I had believed that the other friend, with whom I had shared the gospel and given a copy of the Book of Mormon, would one day join. The fact of the matter is, you just never know who is ready to accept the gospel and who is not.
I felt a little sheepish after that conversation with Greg because I, like so many others, hadn’t shared the gospel with him. I asked him how he finally became interested in the Church. Here is his story:
My family moved to Salt Lake City, Utah, when I was about 11, but I didn’t join the Church until I was 24. Looking back, I can see why no one shared the gospel with me. I was not a golden contact on the surface. Actually, I was a bit of a rowdy kid. I got into fights and got into trouble at school regularly.
I had a number of LDS friends, but only one ever talked about the Church. And that was because I teased him about reading the Book of Mormon when he babysat.
I was curious about things, though. My mom took me to a local Christian church. I once asked them why Jesus hadn’t come to the Americas. They kind of laughed at me for asking such a question, so I didn’t ask anything else about it.
Years later I decided to visit the visitors’ center on Temple Square in Salt Lake City. There was a diorama on Christ in America. Suddenly I remembered my questions about that topic from my younger years. That’s when the Spirit hit me, and I knew I was ready to listen.
The example of my friends from high school stayed with me. In fact, the people I respected most were LDS. Randy Ridd and his wife both went to my school. They were always great examples, very good people. That made a big impact on me later. I thought, “If Randy believed this was real, it must be important.”
I don’t know what might have happened if they had shared more about the gospel at the time. I might not have been ready. But looking back, I wish they had. I know it would have had an impact on me.
I feel so grateful that my example had a positive impact on Greg. I would feel even better, though, if I had done something about it at the time. If I had shared the gospel or the Book of Mormon or even just invited Greg to an activity, it could have changed his life. He may have joined the Church sooner. Maybe he would have even served a mission.
I’ve learned that being a good example is truly important, but so is the responsibility to share the gospel. The Lord has commanded us to do so: “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15).
So don’t be afraid to share. What’s more, don’t be too quick to judge who is ready and who is not. You might just be surprised whose heart has been softened, even if that interest is hidden deep down where you can’t see it.

Arietana’s home is near the equator, so the weather is hot every day of the year and the ocean is very warm. The children spend much of their time swimming, fishing, or just playing in the water. Arietana likes fishing and digging in the sand for clams. “One day I caught enough fish for my family’s dinner,” he said. “My father was very surprised that I caught so many. When I want to go fishing, I find a small hermit crab for bait; then I drop my line from the bridge and wait for the fish to bite.”

There was no moon, and it seemed extra dark to Nellie Kunz as she sat by the fire. She stared into the darkness toward the trees that she knew were there. She wished she had never heard all the stories of mountain lions and wolves that her father and brothers had told.
Nellie was twelve years old, and this was the first time she had come to the sheep camp to cook for her father and brothers and the hired men. They were up in the mountains and over fifty miles from home.
Zina, Nellie’s younger sister, sat beside her and poked a stick at the burning embers. She had come to be Nellie’s assistant and companion while the men took care of the sheep. Besides being sisters, the girls were best friends.
“We’d better get to bed now,” their dad said. “The sheep are all settled down for the night, and we have a lot of work ahead of us in the morning.”
“I’m tired anyway,” said Zina. “And Nellie and I have made a comfortable bed in the wagon.”
“Good night, Daddy,” Nellie said as she gave him a hug. “Good night!” she called to the others.
Zina climbed into the wagon first and Nellie followed her. The wagon was covered with canvas and all their food supplies were stored inside. The girls had made a bed of straw topped with their favorite quilts and pillows from home.
The men slept under the stars near the campfire. Nellie didn’t envy them at all. She liked the idea of sleeping in something enclosed and comfortable. It seemed a little safer and more like being at home.
“It’s so quiet,” whispered Zina.
“Yes,” agreed Nellie. “It’s far more quiet than when Sister Jenkins dropped a pin for us to hear in Primary last week.”
“Don’t forget your prayers,” said Nellie. As she knelt on her soft down quilt, she thanked Heavenly Father for her family and for her many blessings. She asked him to watch over and protect all of them.
“Are you scared?” whispered Zina.
“Sure. Are you?” answered Nellie.
“Yes,” said Zina and they squeezed each other’s hand before they snuggled down into their quilts.
Zina became more and more quiet and Nellie knew she was falling asleep. But Nellie couldn’t sleep. She lay wide awake, staring at the darkness.
After a while she heard a noise. At first, Nellie thought it was the wind blowing the tree branches, but then she felt sure something was moving outside. The sound came closer and closer, and soon Nellie could hear another sound—a heavy breathing sound.
“Zina!” she whispered. “Zina!” She gently shook her sister’s arm.
“What’s the matter?” answered Zina.
“I don’t know,” whispered Nellie, “but when I count to three, scream as loud as you can. One … two … three!” Both girls screamed.
There was a crashing sound beside the wagon as something bounded away. Dad and all the men jumped up from their bedrolls, grabbed their guns, and raced for the wagon.
Everyone was shouting and talking at once for a few minutes as Nellie and Zina tried to tell what they had heard. The men started the fire up again and, holding their torches high, they looked around the wagon. “Looks like the tracks of a mighty big mountain lion,” said Nellie’s oldest brother when he came back from his search. “Took off through the woods.”
“There’s no use trying to track him down,” said Dad. “He’s clear over the mountain by now, with the scare these two girls gave him. I’ve never heard such a row.”
Nellie smiled at her dad, though she was still shaking. “Come on, Zina,” she said as they climbed back into the wagon. “Let’s kneel down again. We need two prayers tonight—another one to say thank you.”

I clipped an item taken from the diary of Mrs. Rebecca Riter, entered December 25, 1847. She describes that first Christmas in the Valley of the Great Salt Lake:
“The winter was cold. Christmas came and the children were hungry. I had brought a peck of wheat across the plains and hid it under a pile of wood. I thought I would cook a handful of wheat for the baby. Then I thought how we would need wheat for seed in the spring, so I left it alone.”
In our bounteous lives, we may well reflect upon the more meager Christmas seasons of our pioneer ancestors.

I remember a few years ago my wife was the ward pianist, and I was a counselor in the stake presidency. She would manage to sit our children near the piano and from there she would try to control them. One day, one of our sons was fighting with his younger sister. My wife would give them a stern look from the piano. At the end of the services, while we were in the car, my wife told my son that he had been irreverent during sacrament meeting, and that he had not paid attention to the talks. He said that he had paid attention, so my wife asked him who spoke. He mentioned the names of the speakers and explained what they had talked about.
Dear sisters and brothers, our children learn when they attend Church on Sundays. When they are little, they feel the Spirit in Primary through the classes and when they sing the Primary songs.
I testify that happiness in the family has a greater possibility of being achieved if we focus on the gospel of Jesus Christ. The study of the scriptures with Come Follow Me, attending Church to renew our covenants, and attending the temple, among other things, will help us to remain firm in the covenant path.

Then came the time when we wondered what we should do in a strange land and a strange language. We heard them talk but did not know what they were saying. Finally someone came and told us in Danish to follow him. He took us to the old tithing yard. There were our boxes with our things in, both bedding and a little food. And there we stayed the next night.
During the day I thought I would go out and see the sights of Salt Lake City. It being summer time, the June apples were getting ripe, and I saw some apples which looked good to me. I could not ask for them; and if I should take an apple without asking for it, then it would be stealing as much as if I should take a dollar in money. But I saw a nice red apple lying under the fence, so I stooped down and took it and started off down the sidewalk. I had only taken a few steps when a man said, “Here, stop?” I thought he was speaking Norwegian for “stop” means the same in Norwegian. So, of course, I stopped.
But he went behind the house. I started off again, but I guess he saw me start. He looked round the housed and shouted “stop” again. I was frightened for I knew I had taken an apple without asking for it. I imagined he went to get a whip to beat me and I thought about what I would have gotten if I had been in Norway. But lo and behold, instead of that he had filled his hat with good, nice, red apples. I came back to the gate, and he handed me another apple and then another till I had my hands full. He told me something in English which I couldn’t understand. But he made signs to show me what he meant—to put them in my pockets, for I had large pockets in my coat. And he gave the whole hat full of apples to me.
It made such an impression on me that I never have forgotten. I had taken one, and instead of a beating he gave me a whole hatful. I have told you before I was rather bitter, but I am frank to say with this and the welcome to the festival the night before, the bitter feeling had all left me. It preached a better sermon than anything I could think of. A good act speaks louder than words.
I went back to the old tithing yard where I met my parents and brother and sisters. Of course I was so happy that I had some apples to give them. They wondered how I had got them. They knew I had no money to buy them with, and so they said, “You have been out stealing.” I said, “A man out in the city gave them to me.” They said there must be better people here in Utah than there were in Norway. I began to think so too.

When a girl in her Valiant class told a story about President Spencer W. Kimball,* Nina listened intently.
When the prophet had been waiting in an airport, he noticed a young, pregnant mother struggling to urge her child along in the line. She nudged the toddler along with her foot but didn’t pick her up. Other passengers whispered and pointed at her, but no one offered to help. President Kimball picked up the crying child and comforted her. The woman told him that because of orders from her doctor, she could not lift her child.
Only President Kimball had recognized that the young mother needed help. Only he had offered that help. Never once did he judge her, as the other passengers had.

Church spokeswoman Irene Caso, who is from Madrid, Spain, shared her excitement and personal experience related to this new policy. “In 2005, my husband and I were married. We had a beautiful civil ceremony on the afternoon of December 15 at a city hall. Later that day, in a more private setting, we were sealed in the Madrid Spain Temple. After going to the temple, we all celebrated with music and dance. Most of my immediate family and friends are not members of our faith, so it was especially meaningful for us to have them witness our civil union and help them feel included in the festivities of the day. These changes announced today will bring the same happy and memorable experience to many families throughout the Church.”

Laura was excited to start kindergarten. She couldn’t wait to go to school with her big brother, Sam. Sam was going to be in third grade.
A few weeks before school started, Mom and Dad talked to Sam and Laura. “Laura,” Dad said, “the schools have made a change. Kindergarteners will go to their own school now.”
Laura chewed on her lip. “Can I still ride the bus with Sam?”
Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry, Laura, but your school is on the other side of town. You’ll ride a different bus.”
Laura tried to be brave, but her lower lip trembled. How could she go to school without her big brother? She and Sam were best friends.
Sam put his arm around Laura’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right,” he said.
That night Sam came into Laura’s room. “Let’s say a special prayer,” he said.
Sam and Laura knelt down.
“Heavenly Father,” Sam prayed, “please bless Laura that she will feel happy about starting school. Help her learn things and make new friends.” Sam closed the prayer in the name of Jesus Christ.
Laura threw her arms around Sam’s neck. She felt better already.
When it came time to start school, Laura was still a little nervous, but she thought about Sam’s prayer. That morning, Dad gave Laura a blessing.
Laura waved goodbye to Mom, Dad, and Sam. She climbed onto the school bus. She knew Heavenly Father would help her.

I experience this as the Primary general president. My calling is to care not only for the children in our church, but for the children in all of the world. This is a tremendous responsibility, and at first I could feel only the burden of it. But I seek for the Lord’s help constantly. I pray for enough strength and insight to do the work I have been called to do, and for the leaders around the world, that they might have the Spirit of the Lord to help them love and understand the children for whom they are responsible. I plead with Heavenly Father to give each teacher a sense of deep responsibility, so that they might help the children to know the gospel of love. I pray for parents to love and teach their children.

Then, just the other morning, I thought, “I have been asking for so much. This morning I am not going to ask for one thing. I’m just going to be grateful.” I knelt and thanked the Lord for my good health, for my understanding husband, for our children, for our missionary son, for the privilege of serving, for the board members and staff who assist me, for stake and ward members throughout the world who are serving, and especially for the teachers who give and care so much. I thanked him for the children everywhere. I thanked him for the prophet. And the list went on. My spirit soared. What an astounding experience to know that I have so much! It takes a grateful heart to experience that soaring, that realization of how much Heavenly Father loves you, how much he does for you.

I will never forget the day I met the missionaries. As they talked to me about the gospel and the plan of salvation, I felt that their message was something that had been missing in my life. We started to meet, and I knew the messages they shared were true. All was not easy for me, however. At that time my father was an alcoholic, and I was scared that I would be in a lot of trouble if he found out I believed the Church is true.
After meeting with the missionaries for a few weeks, I knew I needed to be baptized. The missionaries helped me explain to my father that I was planning on being baptized. My father disagreed with my desire to join the Church, and while he did not forbid me from being baptized, he stated that he did not understand the decision I was making. I decided to have faith and hope for a miracle that my dad’s perspective would change.
On the day of my baptism, I kept wishing that my father would be there, even though I knew he disapproved of my decision. Imagine my surprise when the first person I saw after coming out of the waters of baptism was my dad! My dad told me that a feeling had told him he should come and that he was now experiencing a new feeling that he could not explain. He wanted to know more.
I began to pray to the Lord that my father would open up his heart to the teachings of the gospel. My dad’s lifestyle began to change, and as it did he came to know for himself the Church is true. A month after my own baptism, my father also joined the Church. We have both served faithfully in the Church ever since. I’m thankful the gospel changed my life and my family, and I know that families can be forever.

A true story from France.
Alexandre was turning eight years old in just a few days! He was very excited because he and Dad were planning a special birthday snack for him to eat after school. As the missionaries arrived for dinner, Alexandre told them all about the delicious chocolate pastries he had chosen.
“We’re going to have eight of them with one candle each, instead of one cake with eight candles!”
Elder Lauener laughed. “That sounds awesome. Save some for me!”
After dinner, the missionaries taught a lesson on baptism. Elder Doyon turned to Alexandre. “When you are baptized, you promise to follow Jesus Christ.” He told Alexandre about his own baptism and shared his testimony. “The Holy Ghost helped me to feel so happy because that day I chose to follow Jesus Christ.”
Alexandre couldn’t wait for his baptism day!
But when he went to bed that night, he found it hard to sleep. He liked the idea of being clean and new. But how would he stay clean after baptism?
The next morning Alexandre walked to school with Dad. “You’ve been really quiet this morning,” Dad said. “What’s the matter?”
Alexandre sighed. “l wish I could be baptized more than once.”
“Why?” Dad asked.
“How else can I stay clean after I’m baptized?” asked Alexandre. “l forget things all the time—like saying hello and thank you to grown-ups and being patient with my little brother. I know I’ll still make mistakes. You only get one baptism, so I’ll never be that clean again.”
Dad stopped and met Alexandre’s eyes. “Wow. That probably feels a little overwhelming. Do you remember when we talked about making promises at baptism?”
Alexandre nodded. “I think so.”
“When you get baptized, you make a covenant with Heavenly Father. You promise to keep His commandments and follow Jesus Christ. After that, every time you take the sacrament, you can remember Jesus and how He can help you repent.”
Alexandre’s eyes widened. “So I can feel just as clean as when I’m baptized?”
“Exactly,” Dad said. “Heavenly Father knows you aren’t perfect, and sometimes you’re going to make wrong choices. But when you sin, you can repent and keep trying to follow Jesus. Does that sound like something you can do?”
Alexandre smiled. “Yes! I think I can do that.”
When Alexandre’s birthday arrived, his family had his birthday snack after school. It was delicious! And at his baptism, Alexandre felt extra good inside when he came up out of the water. He had promised to follow Jesus Christ, and that felt amazing!
That week Alexandre tried his best to keep his new covenants and be kind to his little brother. But when the next Sunday came, he was a little disappointed. He felt like he could have made some better choices that week.
As the sacrament was being passed, Alexandre folded his arms and bowed his head. He quietly asked Heavenly Father to help him do better next week. He thought about how much Jesus loved him and how he wanted to be more like Him.
As he took a piece of baguette from the sacrament tray, Alexandre felt warm and peaceful inside. He felt just like he did on his baptism day! Dad put his arm around Alexandre’s shoulder and gave him a smile.
Today was the start of a new week, and Alexandre was going to do his best—with Heavenly Father’s help.

In 1995, this time as a mission president, I saw Mama Taamino again. She had moved back to the atoll of Makemo, not far from her birthplace. Now in her 80s, she could no longer walk, but the wrinkles of her face expressed peace, patience, and a deep understanding of life and the gospel. She still had a beautiful smile, and her eyes showed pure charity.
Early the next morning I found her seated in one of the meetinghouse flower beds, weeding and cleaning. One of her sons had carried her there. After she finished one area, she would use her hands and arms to move herself to the next area. This was her way of continuing to serve the Lord.
In the late afternoon when I was conducting temple recommend interviews, Mama Taamino was brought to where I was seated in the shade of a tree near the chapel. She wanted the opportunity to answer each question required for a temple recommend.
“President, I cannot go to the temple anymore,” she said. “I am getting old and sick, but I always want to have a current temple recommend with me.”
I could tell how much she wanted to return to the temple, and I knew that her longing was acceptable to God. Not long afterward, she left her earthly tabernacle to join those she had faithfully served in the house of the Lord. She took with her nothing but her faith, testimony, kindness, charity, and willingness to serve.

When my husband and I first got married, I was worried that family home evening with just the two of us would be awkward or would become repetitive. I thought we would run out of things to teach each other. But my husband surprised me on our first Monday night by saying, “I want to bear my testimony.” He proceeded to share his testimony of the Savior and of marriage. After his testimony, I shared mine. It was an evening I will always treasure. Though he had not known of my concern about family home evening, he answered it, and I found that each family home evening was a spiritual experience to look forward to.
Since then testimony sharing has remained a tradition in our family home evenings. Though we now have a toddler and we tailor lessons to her, we also don’t go without bearing our testimonies. I am excited for the day when I will be able to hear my children’s testimonies and when I can teach them why testimonies matter.
Heidi Icleanu, Kentucky, USA

The all-LDS Orem, Utah, High School a cappella choir was one of a number of outstanding musical groups invited to participate in the Bicentennial Parade of American Music in Washington, D.C., during the nation’s 200th anniversary celebration. While they were on the 12-day tour, the group emphasized its 100 percent Mormon background by bearing testimonies and giving away several hundred copies of the Book of Mormon.

Plans for the trip began several months before as students and their parents worked to gather the $36,000 needed to finance the trip for the 88 singers and their director, Ed Sandgren. They worked six days a week to prepare the numbers they were to present in the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and elsewhere.

Early on a Wednesday morning the students met at the Salt Lake International Airport and boarded their flight for Washington, D.C. That afternoon they were taken to the Annandale Virginia Stake Center where they set up their equipment and had a short rehearsal. After dining with their host families, the members presented their first east coast concert.

Thursday morning they toured the nation’s capital, then gave their concert at the Kennedy Center. The next day they were guests at a performance of an originally written presentation about Joseph Smith’s First Vision given by a non-LDS school. A cappella members said the presentation was fairly accurate. The school’s religion teacher was given a Book of Mormon in appreciation.

The youth had a chance to show their religion in action that afternoon at a special luncheon in the Rayburn House Office Building when every member of the choir turned over their coffee cups. “The waiters made several rounds in the area to fill our cups, but found none to fill,” one student reported. “They had very puzzled expressions on their faces.” The restaurant had to send out for more milk to satisfy the individual demands at the luncheon.

Tours and concerts at Philadelphia, New York City, and in New Jersey were included in the 12-day trip.

Of particular interest to the choir was their concert in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. It was an overcast day, and the room where they sang was gloomy because the main source of light was through several windows near the top of the structure. Then, as the choir began “The Lord’s Prayer,” the sun broke through the clouds and streamed through the windows. No sooner had the group finished than the sun again disappeared behind the thick clouds.

Many times on their tour people asked where they were from. When they answered that they were from Utah, the next question usually was, “Are you part of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?”

The spirit of the group inspired a number of nonmembers, including a clergyman, who after hearing them sing said, “They’ve certainly made my week.”

The missionary spirit was strong in the all-LDS choir. One member gave out 38 copies of the Book of Mormon, another 14. The tour was a chance to proselyte and to rehearse, not only music but for full-time missions planned to begin in the next few years.