Gospel Story Finder

David looked proudly at his project. He had worked very hard to make it perfect for Mommy. He had even stayed in at recess to finish it instead of play dodgeball with the rest of his first-grade class.
He had started out with a large sheet of plain white paper. Then he had carefully cut out bright yellow flowers, curly red flowers, and big orange flowers with long petals. Next, he had carefully glued them one by one onto his paper. With green crayons of two different shades, he had drawn tall stems and wavy leaves on all the flowers. In the very center of the largest yellow flower, he carefully spelled out “I love you.”
“What a beautiful garden, David,” said his teacher. “Your mother will be very pleased.”
“Thank you,” David answered politely. “I made it big so it would be special.”
After school, he went to the back of the room to get his jacket. He set his lunch box and the picture on the floor while he put on his jacket. When he reached down to pick up his picture, he heard an awful tearing sound. His foot had been on the edge of the paper, and a big piece tore completely off. Sadly, David threw the piece away. The rest was still big enough to be special, but not as big as he had wanted it to be.
He started walking home, holding Mommy’s picture carefully in one hand and his lunch box in the other. As he passed Mrs. Johnson’s house, the picture caught on a branch of her rosebush. One whole corner was ripped into shreds. He tore it off and threw it into a nearby dumpster. He hoped Mommy would like what was left of her picture, even though it wasn’t very big anymore.
A sudden gust of wind tore the paper from his grasp at the corner of his block. He chased it down the sidewalk and finally caught up with it, but not before it had landed partway in a puddle. Nearly everything that was left of Mommy’s garden picture was soggy.
As David entered his own yard, he tossed the damaged part into the big trash can near the gate, saving only the yellow flower that said “I love you.” He trudged into the house. “I have something for you, Mommy,” he called.
“What is it, honey?” she asked, coming to give him a big welcome-home hug.
“It’s a flower. It was a whole garden, and it was special because it was big, but this is all there is left.” He held the yellow flower out to her.
“Why, David, this is perfect!” exclaimed Mommy, taking the flower and giving him another big hug. “And it’s just the right size!”
She went over to the table, picked up her purse, and took out her new wallet. “Look,” she said. “It fits into the last empty window in my wallet. I can take my special flower with me everywhere I go, and it will remind me of the special boy who made it for me!”
David grinned a big, happy, “I love you” grin.

My sweetheart and I had been married about six years and were just starting our family, when I was called to be a bishop. I was only twenty-six years old. I’ll never forget one of the first times a young person came to me with a problem. As we sat in my office, I prayed silently, “Father, what can I do? What should I tell this person?”
A scripture came to my mind, a verse found in 1 Nephi 15:24 [1 Ne. 15:24]: “And I said unto them that it was the word of God; and whoso would hearken unto the word of God, and would hold fast unto it, they would never perish; neither could the temptations and the fiery darts of the adversary overpower them unto blindness, to lead them away to destruction.”
I said to that young person sitting in my office, “It will be important to you to hang on to the rod, which is the word of God found in the holy scriptures. Satan won’t be able to overpower you anymore with his temptations and his fiery darts if you’ll hang on to the rod.” We came up with a hand signal that meant “Hang on to the rod.” Soon that hand signal spread to all the young people of the ward, and whenever they saw me, they gave me that signal: “Hang on to the rod.”

Nirina J-Randriamiharisoa of Madagascar currently lives in France while she pursues her education. When she first arrived, she struggled with loneliness and homesickness. “I sought for solace through prayer, scripture reading, and the gentle whisperings of the Holy Spirit,” says Nirina. “These things brought me closer to Heavenly Father and the Savior, and I felt peace.”

In time Nirina made friends and participated in activities within and outside the Church and found happiness. But then some tragic news from home shook her world. “One morning I received a message telling me that my brother had died. I had no idea I could feel such sadness. In the days and weeks that followed, I struggled through moments of loneliness, anger, and despair. Doing even the most basic things became serious challenges.”

A few months later, a close friend also passed away. The added sorrow increased Nirina’s already-heavy burden. For just a moment Nirina considered not attending church, but then she remembered that the same things that had buoyed her in her earlier difficulties could bolster her now.

“As I had when I first moved to France, I sought comfort in prayer, scripture reading, and the Holy Ghost. Through this I discovered more strongly that the Spirit and the doctrine of eternal families can bring us comfort and that the Atonement of Jesus Christ has a real effect in our lives,” she says. “Whatever trials we face, there are no ‘dead ends’ with the Lord. His plan is a plan of happiness.”

People in the stake are still talking about a show the LeGault sisters put on for their stake three years ago. It came about when Chantal was asked at age 12 to join a new band made up of LDS youth. “We did a show for the ward, and Nathalie thought it sounded great, so she joined the group, too. We practiced all summer, five hours a day, and did a three-hour show for the stake. People really enjoyed it,” says Chantal.

Nathalie has liked music for a long time, too. When she was ten years old she wanted to learn to lead the singing, so she asked the music director in her ward to teach her how. When Nathalie turned 11, she was called to lead the music in Primary. She’s now the choir president for her ward, as well as Young Women camp director and secretary of the Sunday School. Chantal directs the music for the Young Women, sings in the ward choir, and is president of her Young Women class.

They both sing for fun, but Chantal would like to sing professionally. “I like music, but Chantal really loves it,” says Nathalie.

Last year Chantal auditioned for a prestigious gala presentation that the media attend to report on the best new talent in Montreal. Chantal passed the audition and was scheduled to perform, but when she found out the concert was to be held on a Sunday, she withdrew.

“I fasted about it. Even though I really wanted to sing at the gala, if the Spirit says don’t go, you don’t go. So I didn’t. The important thing is always to follow what Heavenly Father wants us to do. But I know that because I listened to the Spirit, other opportunities have come my way,” says Chantal.

She recently found herself singing for a seminary film produced by the Church. Last year both sisters were asked to help with French translations for the film. Chantal told the producer she liked to sing and was asked to record several songs for the project. She went to the studio, put on the earphones, and surprised everybody when she did an outstanding job in record time. A technician told her she had professional talent, which was encouraging.

“If I sing professionally, my commitment to God will always take first priority,” she says. “I look at my singing as missionary work.”

She also likes to write music—she’s written more than 30 songs. “Music is a good way for me to express myself,” she says. “When I feel sad or happy, I put it into music and words. If I have a good relationship with somebody, or a good friendship, or when I see someone alone, I write a song about it.”

Besides music, the LeGault sisters have other interests, too.

“We both love music, but our personalities are very different. I love bright colors, modern things, almost flashy things,” says Chantal.

“I guess I’m more traditional,” says Nathalie. “I love subdued colors, antiques, nature, the woods.”

Chantal loves arts; Nathalie likes sciences. Chantal likes individual competition; Nathalie likes team sports. Chantal prefers the city; Nathalie prefers the country. Chantal dresses in up-to-date fashions; Nathalie goes for the more classic look.

But outward differences aside, the girls are like two peas in a pod on things that are dear to them—their French Canadian heritage and their love of the gospel.

“Most of us in Quebec have ancestors from the farm,” says Nathalie. “That makes us warm, hospitable people, whether we live in the city or the country. We’ve inherited it. Family is important to us as a people, and we value happiness, not things.”

“It’s easy for us in Quebec to care about people. It comes naturally,” adds Chantal. “We’re also very frank and direct and very independent. Probably one reason we’re independent is that we live in the only French-speaking province in Canada, and sometimes that’s tough. We’re somewhat isolated because of that.”

Some of the younger people don’t have much interest in the cultural traditions of Quebec, the sisters say. But the LeGault sisters are in harmony with their heritage. “We think it’s good to learn about our ancestors and the way they lived,” says Nathalie.

Going to school in Montreal offers special challenges to the two young women because they’re Latter-day Saints.

“We’re the only Mormons in a high school of 1,500 students, and it’s hard sometimes,” says Chantal. “The tough part is that the people can’t understand our principles. Sometimes when our friends find out our religion, their parents tell them not to see us anymore. That makes it hard to do missionary work here, but we’ve found that our example is the best missionary work we can do.”

Nathalie agrees. “Example is very important here. Everybody watches us because of our religion. When we take the subway to church, people notice us walking in dresses and know that we’re not like other young people. There’s something different about us.

“Last year I asked my math teacher to write something in my yearbook. My teacher said, ‘A year ago I saw you in the corridor and didn’t know you, but wanted you in my class this year because I saw how nice you were with people.’ To me, that’s missionary work.”

Chantal has had similar experiences. “A boy in my school I didn’t even know came up to me and asked my name and asked if I was active in a certain church he named. I said, ‘No, I’m a Mormon.’ He told me that he could see from my eyes that I was different, that I had principles.”

Both the sisters are proud of the gospel principles they’ve learned. Converts to the Church, their family was tracted out when they lived in the little country town of Gatineau, north of Montreal.

“The missionaries came to the door one day and said they were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” says Chantal. “When my mother heard the words ‘Jesus Christ,’ she knew she wanted to hear from them, because she had been searching for truth.”

Their father worked in Montreal and came home on the weekends. When he heard that the missionaries had come, he told his family he wasn’t interested, but the missionaries could come when he wasn’t there.

“I loved my sins and didn’t want to give them up,” he says half-jokingly.

The missionaries started teaching the family, and one Friday afternoon Papa LeGault came home early from work, when the missionaries were there. He asked them to stay, and the missionaries invited him and his wife to a Valentine’s Day dance at the meetinghouse. The people at the dance were friendly and nice, and Brother LeGault knew there was something special about them, something good.

“My father wanted proof about these people, though,” says Chantal. “A week later Elder Neal Maxwell was speaking at stake conference in Montreal, and my father put on a tie and said, ‘I’ll go.’ Once there, he saw that the people in Montreal were good too. He listened, and he received a testimony of the Church and saw that it was true.

“The next weekend, he told the missionaries he wanted to be baptized. They protested that he hadn’t had the lessons, and my father said he didn’t care. He wanted to be baptized. My mother wanted baptism, too. So our family joined the Church, and a year and a half later, my father was branch president.”

Nathalie was eight years old when the missionaries came, and she searched to find out for herself if the Church was true. “I was nine years old when I knew it was true. My relatives said, ‘The girls are joining because their parents joined.’ But I said ‘No, I know that it’s true.’ It was my decision to join. I always tell young people that you have to have your own testimony, not the testimony of your friends or family.”

The gospel has meant a lot to the LeGault girls. They contrast their life today with their life when they didn’t have the gospel. “Sometimes when people are born in the Church, they don’t realize what they have because they don’t know what life is like without it,” says Nathalie. “I remember what it was like, and I know that the Spirit of the Lord is in our home now. The gospel has really changed our lives. If it weren’t for the gospel, I wouldn’t be what I am today. The Church is my life. Everything I do I pray about. I feel the Spirit of the Lord guiding me. That’s the key, and it’s wonderful.”

One highlight for the LeGault sisters has been taking trips to the Washington D.C. Temple.

“We try to go to the temple to do baptisms as often as we can,” says Nathalie. “We need it, like food. We’re hungry for it. We go each summer for three days. I think about my family when I go and remember when we were sealed together in the temple eight years ago. I remember the sealing room and my mother looking so beautiful. It was something marvelous, fantastic.

“When I’m baptized for the dead in the temple, I’ve felt very close to the people I’ve been baptized for, and I feel that they’ve accepted the gospel. I know that I’m not just being baptized for a name, but for someone who really exists. Those people want the gospel just like we do.”

Chantal agrees. “The last time I went to do baptisms in the temple, I felt the Spirit so strongly I cried and cried. I felt like I wanted to be in the temple all my life, so I could feel that Spirit all the time.”

The LeGault family makes it a practice to try to live close to the Spirit. Brother LeGault helps set the pace. Shortly after he prayed for help in finding someone to share the gospel with, he was prompted to turn off the main highway to stop at a gas station, even though he didn’t need gas. A young man riding a motorcycle had stopped there because he was tired of traveling, and Brother LeGault offered to put the motorcycle in his van and give the young man a lift to Montreal.

The young man was impressed by the kindness he received and wanted to know more about the LeGault family and what made them so loving. He took the missionary lessons. The LeGault family prayed that the young man would gain a testimony. A few weeks later, he was baptized into the Church.

“When something like that happens, we make it a family activity,” says Chantal. “We all prayed for the young man to listen to the truth. We work together to share the gospel.”

“We try to say to our Heavenly Father, ‘I’ll do what you want. Make me what you want,’” says Nathalie. “When we let him do that, he does wonderful things.”

In December 2004, Kumar was taking a tour of southern Sri Lanka with a client from Germany. Unexpectedly, the man changed his plans and told him to drop him at his hotel by the beach. He told Kumar he would call him in a few days to continue his tour. Kumar could have stayed to enjoy the beach but decided to call his tour partners for another assignment. They asked him to take a client to Kandy, a mountain area in Sri Lanka. While in Kandy, he heard on the news that a terrible tsunami had hit southern Sri Lanka exactly where he was earlier that day. His client from Germany never called him back, as the hotel where he dropped him off was destroyed. Sri Lankan authorities reported over 31,000 confirmed dead with several thousand others missing, nearly 0.2 percent of the population of Sri Lanka.

Avoiding the tsunami reinforced Kumar’s commitment to pray. He thanked God for saving his life that day and continues to thank God in prayer daily.

Randy Nako knows what it means to hit the spot. Randy has hit enough bull’s-eyes to pile up a list of awards. As captain of his varsity rifle team, he’s earned the American Legion Marksmanship Medal, National Rifle Association Junior Sectional Championship, and Expert Badge.
Randy, a member of the Honolulu Hawaii West Stake, has served as deacons and teachers quorum president and assistant to the president of his priests quorum in his ward. He’s an excellent student and has been named to Who’s Who Among American High School Students.
“Along with this honor comes a chance that I could receive one of many scholarships,” Randy told Church members in a stake conference address. “If I am selected to receive any scholarship, I will have to check to see if there is any chance that I can use part of the scholarship before I go on my mission and use the rest of it after I return from my mission. If it can’t possibly be arranged, I will turn down the scholarship, because I know that if I serve the Lord first, he will bless me and help me prepare a way so that I can continue my education.”

A true champion, after giving everything he can, calls on God for extra help.
Cathy Ferguson, age 17, was struggling in the backstroke swimming event, 15 centimeters behind the leader. She could hardly feel her arms and legs, but kept battling—8 meters, 7 meters, 6 meters, 5 meters. She kept swimming harder, until she pushed through to win. In that moment of glory, she could hardly control her tears, but she said, “I just kept praying, ‘Please God, help me keep going.’”

Not long ago I learned of the passing of James Womack, the patriarch of the Shreveport Louisiana Stake. He had served long and had blessed ever so many lives. Years before, President Spencer W. Kimball shared with President Gordon B. Hinckley, Elder Bruce R. McConkie, and me an experience he had in the appointment of a patriarch for the Shreveport Louisiana Stake of the Church. President Kimball described how he interviewed, how he searched, and how he prayed that he might learn the Lord’s will concerning the selection. For some reason, none of the suggested candidates was the man for this assignment at this particular time.
The day wore on; the evening meetings began. Suddenly President Kimball turned to the stake president and asked him to identify a particular man seated perhaps two-thirds of the way back from the front of the chapel. The stake president replied that the individual was James Womack, whereupon President Kimball said: “He is the man the Lord has selected to be your stake patriarch. Please have him meet with me in the high council room following the meeting.”
Stake president Charles Cagle was startled, for James Womack did not wear the label of a typical man. He had sustained terrible injuries while in combat during World War II. He lost both hands and part of an arm, as well as most of his eyesight and part of his hearing. Nobody had wanted to let him into law school when he returned, yet he finished third in his class at Louisiana State University.
That evening as President Kimball met with Brother Womack and informed him that the Lord had designated him to be the patriarch, there was a protracted silence in the room. Then Brother Womack said: “Brother Kimball, it is my understanding that a patriarch is to place his hands on the head of the person he blesses. As you can see, I have no hands to place on the head of anyone.”
Brother Kimball, in his kind and patient manner, invited Brother Womack to stand behind the chair on which Brother Kimball was seated. He then said, “Now, Brother Womack, lean forward and see if the stumps of your arms will reach the top of my head.” To Brother Womack’s joy, they touched Brother Kimball’s head, and the exclamation came forth, “I can reach you! I can reach you!”
“Of course you can reach me,” responded Brother Kimball. “And if you can reach me, you can reach any whom you bless. I will probably be the shortest person you will ever have seated before you.”
President Kimball reported to us that when the name of James Womack was presented to the stake conference, “the hands of the members shot heavenward in an enthusiastic vote of approval.”
Remembered were the words of the Lord to the prophet Samuel at the time David was designated to be a future king of Israel: “Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.”

It was a stormy winter night. At the airport in Chicago, Illinois, many people were stranded due to delayed or canceled flights. A young pregnant woman stood in the long check-in line, nudging her two-year-old daughter forward with her foot.
Many people made disapproving comments, but no one offered to help.
Man: Why doesn’t she pick up that screaming child?
Woman: What a terrible mother.
With a kind smile, Elder Kimball walked up to the woman.
Elder Kimball: Can I help you?
Mother: Thank you.I’ve had four previous miscarriages. My doctor told me I can’t lift anything—not even my own child.
Elder Kimball picked up the crying child, rubbed her back, and gave her a piece of candy. When the girl was comforted, he informed the other passengers and the airport workers of the woman’s condition.
Airport worker: We’ll have you on the next available flight.
Supervisor: Come and sit and rest until your departure.
The woman’s stress was lessened. Later, she saw a picture of Elder Spencer W. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Mother: That’s him! That’s the man who helped me.
A few months after that, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
Twenty-one years later, President Kimball received a letter. It was from the son of that young mother.
Student: I served a faithful mission and am now a student at Brigham Young University. Thank you for helping my mother that terrible night!
President Kimball was happy that his small act of service had resulted in so much good.

On our way driving home from a swim meet, it was dark and snowing. My mom was worried and asked us to pray. I remembered how Jesus taught us to pray when we need help. So I bowed my head and closed my eyes to pray to get home safely. After I prayed and opened my eyes, I felt a warm feeling in my heart. Then I heard a still, small voice whisper, “Everything will be all right.”
Peichi C., age 10, Massachusetts, USA

I was 18 then, a newly ordained elder and busy preparing myself to enter medical school. Besides that, my parents had been inactive for a long time and had never properly trained me to accept such a call if it ever came. I felt these were sufficient reasons for me to say no but decided to ask for some time to think about it. I approached my father and, as I expected, he emphatically refused to let me accept the mission call.
I thought I had been smart enough to fool everybody, but in fact I was the only one being fooled. About a year later, just before I was to take the long-awaited entrance test to medical school, the Lord called me again. This time I resolved to pray about it. I told the Lord that the result of the test would be the answer to my doubts. If I passed, I would understand that my mission would be medical school; if I failed, a proselyting mission would be what he wanted from me.
I passed the entrance exam. Blessings were poured upon me in an avalanche. My father changed to a better-paying job, which he needed to pay for my expensive studies. The lessons in medical school entered my mind with incredible ease, and I became an outstanding student. I became engaged to a wonderful LDS girl, even though she lived 360 miles away and we met just a few times a year. Good health, so seldom enjoyed before, became steady in my family. I was called to be a counselor in the Campinas Stake Sunday School presidency. Through the efforts of the home teachers, my younger sister became active again in seminary. The Lord was blessing us abundantly.
But two years later, I was sitting right there before my bishop once again, being reminded of my obligation to the Lord’s work on the earth. I felt different about it this time, but I was still reluctant to accept. I wanted the Lord himself to tell me what to do. Scriptures that promised marvelous blessings, shown to me by returned missionaries and the bishopric, did not seem to help.
Praying was not enough either. I fasted also, asking the Lord to give me an unmistakable answer so that I would not be left in doubt. It seemed like a fierce battle inside me, my spirit contending against my mortal reasoning. I was nearly exhausted from it when I felt the “burning in my bosom” and knew the Lord had revealed that accepting a mission call was what he wanted from me.
The first round had been won. Now the scriptures would give me strength to support an unshakable faith in God. I knew that other trials would come but not so soon.
When I phoned my fiancée to wish her a happy birthday, she asked about my decision. I told her I had decided to go on a mission, but that I would like to talk with her when she came to see me in a few weeks. She insisted that we talk about it right then. Her sweet voice became choked as if something bitter were being swallowed against her will. We said good-bye.
I went to my room to pray to my Heavenly Father so she could understand and accept my decision. A little later the phone rang and that same sweet voice said with firmness, “Thank you for the birthday gift.” At first I thought she was being ironic, but then I realized she was sincere.
Little by little the Lord was showing that he had prepared the way for me. However, I felt that I would need his help a lot more when I talked to my father. My father is a good man, but his hard life had made him tough and materialistic. Such an outlook would prevent him from accepting my decision.
On a Sunday afternoon, when we were alone in our backyard, I decided to tell my father. He listened until I finished and then asked very dryly, “Is this your will?” I nodded. “Very well, now listen! When you took this course you destroyed the love that existed within me for you. I am not going to drive you out of the house but from my heart. Those medical school stickers that I proudly exhibit on the windshield of my car will be removed, and you will have to do much to put them back on. You tore down a great dream of my life, and as far as I am concerned you fell down with it.”
I tried to answer him and express my great love for him, but my words stopped in my throat. I wished that the whole world would fall upon me for bringing such great suffering to my father, whom I loved so much.
Time went by. My father went to stake leaders to try to stop me. In a last and desperate attempt he went to the stake president. When he returned home that night, he had only harsh words for me.
While I prayed to the Lord to give my father understanding, the Spirit dictated to me that I should listen to him without saying a word. The night before he was to talk to the stake president again, he was sitting alone in the backyard. He said the moonlight made the night clear. He took the opportunity to pray to the Lord in the way he knows and said, “Father, I know that you have given me everything, but do you need to collect all at once? You know I cannot bear it.” In that very moment the backyard became filled with shadows that started to move towards him. My father became stricken with fear and ran to his room like a frightened child. He spent the whole night talking to my strong and sweet mother. That long talk with my mother and his interview with the stake president, when both cried, were enough to change his thinking.
And then came the night that I will never forget. I was in the kitchen peeling a pineapple for our dessert when my father came home. He stopped behind me, placed his briefcase on the floor, and said, “May I talk to you?”
I was already getting used to his aggressive talking. I answered yes and continued to peel the pineapple. “Listen, young man, when I talk to someone I like him to look into my eyes.” I stopped, turned to him, and heard him say with a calm and tender voice, “My son, go and do what you have decided to do because the Lord has told me that it is right. You can count on me for help because I love you very much.” We embraced each other, and the Lord bound the heart of the father to the son and of the son to the father. Tears of joy rolled down our cheeks.
And now my longing for my fiancée and my parents, my desire to attend medical school, and even my disappointment at having to turn down a long-awaited job—all of this is overshadowed by the joy of having received a letter from President Kimball saying, “Dear Elder Areas. You are being called by the Lord to work in the Brazil, Rio de Janeiro Mission. …”

Once, when I was about seven years old, I had a pal whom I liked very much. We often walked home from school together. We talked about such things as what happened at school that day or what we were going to be when we grew up. We talked of being brave and of being able to do many things.

Sometimes we would dare each other to jump across a ditch or to climb a tree just to prove that we were brave or that we could do things we had seen older boys and girls do.

As we came to my home one day we stood out by the road and talked about who was the fastest runner in the school. The discussion got a little louder as both of us began boasting. When I strongly insisted that I could run faster than my friend, he turned to me and said, “If you’re so fast, I dare you to run across the road before that car gets here!”

I looked up the road and saw a car a short distance away. Without another word I dashed into the road to prove that I was fast and brave. A moment later the car’s brakes squealed! Its bumper hit me, and I landed in an unconscious heap.

When I opened my eyes, my aching body, a hurt pride, and my mother’s anxious face made me realize that I had been neither fast nor brave. I had only been foolish. I had brought sadness to myself and to others.

Fortunately, my injuries healed quickly. Of greater importance was the lesson I learned that has been valuable to me throughout my life. I learned that the only dare a person should ever accept is the DARE TO DO RIGHT.

At age fifteen, Susana Fernandez-Rebollos Herrero of Madrid, Spain, is a champion. Competing against sixty-two female participants in the national fencing championships, she won the title as the best female fencer in Spain in her age group.
Her victory was a result of long hours of training and sacrifices. After discovering the sport when she was eleven years old, she read a story in the Liahona about LDS athletes. Inspired by the article, she set a goal to become a champion in fencing and, with encouragement of her family and friends, has done just that, winning many medals and cups along the way.
Susana was too young to participate in the Olympic Games in Barcelona in 1992, but she is preparing for the next Olympics.

I had never thought much about my testimony. I liked to go to church, and the gospel wasn’t hard to live, so I basically took it for granted the Church was true.
When I was almost 21, I decided to go on a mission. But in my interview with the stake president the conversation took an unanticipated turn.
“Lara, do you support the leaders of the Church?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know he is a prophet of God?” he asked again.
“I believe he is,” I responded, a little confused at the repetition of the question.
Then he said, “Belief is a beginning. But do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God called to lead us in this day?”
This time I caught the wording. I could feel my face get hot. I felt helpless. Did this mean I couldn’t go on a mission? No. But he told me to be most effective on a mission, I needed a testimony of “I knows.”
I left the stake president’s office that day a little embarrassed, but determined to know that President Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God, to know that the Book of Mormon is truly another testament of Jesus Christ, to know that Christ died for me. I would have to do the intense studying and praying that my stake president had done. And for the next three months I did.
By the time I entered the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, I felt good saying “I know.” But it was in the MTC that I got my strongest witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he did restore Christ’s church to the earth. That’s when I truly “knew,” and I was thrilled to be an “I know” missionary.

A man came in to see me some time ago. He was in his 40s, I suppose, and he said, “Brother Dunn, I want to tell you a story.” As a child, he grew up in a poor family. He said he was eight before he knew what the taste of fresh milk was because his family was so poor they bought canned milk and mixed it with water to make it go further. He told of how he went down to the welfare agency with his sister one fall, and they issued two girls’ coats to them. All they had left were girls’ coats. As he got into his teenage years, he began to work very hard, and for a boy who didn’t have anything, the greatest desire of his life was a new car. He wanted a 1947 Chevrolet. It was a great obsession with him—he wanted that car. So he worked and sacrificed until he had enough for a down payment, and he got his car.

After sacrament meeting one Sunday, the bishop came up to him and his friend and said, “I’d like to see both of you for a few minutes in my office.” First, his friend went in, and the bishop said, “We’d like you to prepare to go into the mission field.” They talked about it for awhile, and finally the boy said, “Yes, Bishop, I’ll prepare myself to go.” And then this boy went in next, and the bishop asked him also to prepare for a mission. His answer was, “Bishop, I can’t go on a mission; I’m buying a car.” The car was the greatest thing in his life.

He then said, “You know, Brother Dunn, that’s not the end of the story. One thing or another came up, and I never did go. As the years went on, I used to go to elders’ quorum meetings, and I’d sit next to those returned missionaries. I don’t know if they knew any more than I did, but I thought they did. And I felt a little bit uncomfortable sitting with them in those meetings because I didn’t feel that I knew as much about the gospel as they did.” Whether he did or not, at least that’s how he felt. He said, “As time went on, I began to realize the bad decision I had made and how it stays with you. It got so that every time I’d see a 1947 Chevrolet it would give me a black feeling inside because it represented to me a decision I made that took me away from the Lord and, in the long run, hurt me. And to this day, I can’t see such a car without remembering that experience, and I ache inside because of it. The car didn’t last. The benefits of a mission go on forever.”

On Saturdays and holidays, Junior loves traveling with them to nature reserves and other South African wonderlands, swimming with them in the backyard pool, singing with them, and working with them. He loves sharing family home evenings, family prayer, and family scripture study with them. He loves welcoming the home teachers to teach them. He especially loves sitting with them in sacrament meeting—and that’s where a problem arises. As a member of the stake presidency, Brother Mkhabele often visits other wards. In his own ward, he’s invited to sit on the stand. From Junior’s point of view, this leaves a big, dad-shaped hole right in the middle of the family, and it makes him sad. Junior understands that his dad is doing the Lord’s work, but it still hurts. For Junior, it’s a real sacrifice, and he makes it with real faith.
Faith comes naturally to Junior. Reading doesn’t. And yet, he reads the scriptures faithfully. The two most memorable people he has met there are Nephi and Jonah. “If God tells Nephi to do something, he does it. He’s not afraid of what people will do or think. And when Jonah got on a ship to run away from God, a big fish swallowed him. From that I learned not to be selfish or run away.” Following her big brother’s example, Thembisile loves the scriptures, too. Though she can’t read yet, she insists on having her own copy for scripture study.
Junior has been blessed with a bright mind, but it isn’t like a lamp that shines steadily in one place. It’s more like lightning that flashes brilliantly here and there all across the sky. With such a lively brain, Junior sometimes finds it hard to focus on one thing for long. One thing he does focus on, though, is the gospel.
Junior was recently baptized. “Father baptized me and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost. I felt fresh and clean.”
Brother Mkhabele was also deeply moved by the event. “It was the most edifying [inspiring] experience of my life. When I confirmed him, the Spirit was so great that I did not lack for words to bless him. I felt that the blessing he received was really inspired. And since then I’ve seen a change in him. He is beginning to concentrate better. He thinks more carefully before doing things. He feels a greater need to help people.”
Not long after his baptism, Junior was visiting another ward’s fast and testimony meeting with his father. He felt impressed to bear his testimony for the first time in public. “I wanted to see if I could bear my testimony in front of everyone. I couldn’t. Then Dad stood up and helped me, and I could.” Junior’s testimony is simple and strong. “I know that God lives. I know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet.”
Junior also has great faith in prayer. “When I pray, Heavenly Father gives me what I ask for unless it would not be right for me. If He doesn’t give me the things I want, it means they wouldn’t be right for me.” Honest as usual, he adds, “I usually pray at night, but sometimes I forget and just go to sleep. In the morning when I remember that I didn’t pray, I feel sad.”
Junior and Thembisile both love going to Primary. When they come home, Junior eagerly tells everyone what he learned. Thembisile loves singing Primary songs. They both love family home evening. Every Monday night Thembisile reminds her parents about family home evening. Ever hopeful, she sometimes reminds them on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, as well.
Thembisile and Junior have fun together. They play with blocks, swing on the swing set, and splash in the backyard pool. Sometimes they fight, but they always make up, often by building something together with Thembisile’s beloved blocks.
When Brother and Sister Mkhabele visited Junior’s school for a progress report, his teacher said, “Junior is so ambitious! He tells me that he wants to go on a mission.” Brother Mkhabele laughs. “She didn’t know that Junior belongs to a church in which most young men his age are planning on missions.”
Junior is already preparing for his. He has asked his mother to teach him how to cook and do his laundry and talked with his father about finances. Junior sees only one problem with missionary service. “I want my own room.” Why go on a mission and risk having a roommate? “Because I don’t want to be selfish to people who don’t know about the gospel. It will make them happy, and I want all the world to be happy.”
After school each day, Junior polishes his shoes and does his homework. After the evening meal, he takes all the dishes to the kitchen and sometimes helps to wash them. He does these chores by assignment, but he does many others by choice. His mother reports that he sometimes says, “Mom, you’re tired. You relax, and I’ll do everything for you.” He especially loves working on projects with his dad. He can do many things for himself—cooking breakfast, for example. He sometimes has an assistant, because whenever Thembisile sees anyone working (or playing), she joins in and helps.
When he grows up, Junior wants to be a policeman, a lawyer, and a college instructor, like his father; and a school teacher and dietitian, like his mother; and a good parent and a true Latter-day Saint. He’s on the right path.

Fabian began taking the missionary lessons shortly after the full-time missionaries came knocking. He still remembers his first sacrament meeting.

“I didn’t know anyone when I entered the chapel, so I was a little nervous,” he says. “But I felt something marvelous. I felt that I had been in the Church for months or years.”

During his baptism a few weeks later, “I felt an inexplicable joy upon being immersed in the water and coming out again. I felt like a new person, knowing that I was going to follow Jesus Christ and do my best to keep His commandments.”

As Fabian’s unmarried parents, Leonardo and Angela, joined their son during the missionary lessons, they learned about temple marriage and eternal families. “A week later, my father set a wedding date,” says Fabian. “My mother was very happy.”

Four months after Fabian joined the Church, Angela followed him into the waters of baptism. “That was a wonderful blessing,” he says.

Other blessings quickly followed. Leonardo, who had been baptized when he was young, returned to activity in the Church. Gospel study became a staple in their home. Family members grew closer. Leonardo found steady work. And Fabian received the Aaronic Priesthood.

“I love holding the priesthood so that I can pass the sacrament to ward members and help them renew their covenants,” says Fabian. “I’m especially happy when I get to pass to my family and to the elders who taught me. The proud look my father gives me as he sees me pass the sacrament makes me very happy.”

Andrea could see the large granite pillar from the van window before she and her Primary class pulled into the parking lot. Sister Birchall had told them that the monument was 38 1/2 feet tall, one foot for every year of Joseph Smith’s life.
Andrea’s friend Becky squirmed excitedly on the seat next to her. “We’ll really get to be where Joseph Smith was born!” Becky said.
Andrea had been looking forward to this Primary activity since Sister Birchall had announced their class was visiting Sharon, Vermont, just a short drive away. Andrea had prayed that she would feel the Holy Ghost here. She wanted to have a spiritual experience like the people who bore their testimonies at church. The scriptures say that if you ask in faith, Heavenly Father will bless you. Andrea believed that was true.
A light rain was falling when the class pulled into the parking lot. A senior sister missionary was waiting for them.
“Hello!” she called. “I’m sorry that we don’t have the music playing through the trees for you right now. We usually do, but we turned it off because of the rain. Maybe you can hear it before you leave.”
Andrea liked the missionary, whose black name tag read Sister Grant. She reminded Andrea of her grandma. Sister Grant and Elder Grant told the class stories about Joseph Smith and showed them where he was born. After the tour, the missionaries let them look around the museum.
“Andrea, come see this!” Becky called. She was pointing at a painting of Lucy Mack Smith.
Elder Grant walked up behind the girls. “She was a great woman. Even before Joseph had the First Vision, she and her family were close to the Holy Ghost. They often liked to go out into the woods to think and pray.”
Andrea remembered her goal to feel the Spirit today. When people at church said they felt the Holy Ghost they usually cried. Andrea hadn’t felt like crying even a little today.
Sister Birchall walked in and told them they would be leaving in half an hour. “The rain has stopped, so you can go look at the monument now.”
Andrea looked over at Becky, who was talking to another girl from their class. This was Andrea’s chance.
She left as quickly as she could and walked toward the woods behind the monument. To the left, Andrea saw a small clearing. “Perfect,” she thought.
She walked into the middle of the weeds and knelt down, placing her coat under her knees so they would not get wet. “Maybe I’m in the same place that Lucy went to think and pray,” she thought.
Andrea closed her eyes and again prayed for the Holy Ghost to be with her. She didn’t feel anything. Andrea was confused. Why wasn’t she crying? Disappointed, she got up and walked out of the clearing. There was a small dirt road behind the monument. Andrea decided she had enough time to walk down it a little way. As she walked through the tall trees, Andrea noticed that there was a peaceful feeling in these woods—quiet and calm like a chapel. The air smelled fresh and clean from the rain, and everything was a bright, clear green. She also noticed that the sun had come out from behind the clouds and was reflecting off the wet leaves and pine needles in bright glints of light. She added a happy skip to her walk.
A little bubble of happiness was growing inside Andrea, and became so big that she thought she would burst with joy. She wanted to start singing and laughing at the same time.
She didn’t go too far into the woods before she turned around. As she walked back, she began to hear the sound of an orchestra and choir singing through the trees—probably the music Sister Grant had mentioned. It sounded like the song of angels, pure and sweet. Andrea stopped to listen to the words. “When thru the woods and forest glades I wander,” the choir sang. “Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee, How great thou art!”* The words described exactly how Andrea felt—like her soul was singing. She felt happy! Except for one thing. She still hadn’t felt the Spirit.
Becky spied Andrea as soon as Andrea got back to the monument. “Come see the sunspot!” she said excitedly. Andrea didn’t know what Becky was talking about, but she let Becky pull her up the hill.
From the top of the granite pillar shone a dazzling light. Andrea put her hands up to shield her eyes.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Becky said. “Sister Grant says that it’s the sun shining off the top of the polished rock.”
“It’s beautiful,” Andrea said. She stood in awe for several minutes. She felt a little sad. “This would have been the perfect trip if only I had felt the Holy Ghost,” she thought.
Suddenly, like the light reflecting off the pillar, a thought shone into her soul. She had felt the Spirit! The Holy Ghost didn’t just make people cry. It also made them feel peaceful and happy, like she had felt in the forest! Andrea again felt the same bubble of joy growing inside. She then understood that Heavenly Father had answered her prayers.
As they drove away, Andrea kept her eyes on the granite monument until it disappeared behind the tops of the trees. She knew that the Lord had blessed her and given her the witness she desired.

“What are you doing?” Nate asked his big sister, Jessica.
“Writing a thank-you to Grandma for my birthday present.”
“I want to write one too.”
“You don’t know how to write yet,” Jessica said. “Besides, you write thank-yous to someone who gives you a present, and it wasn’t your birthday.”
“Oh,” said Nate, rolling his tongue around in his cheek. Then he started to grin. “I know someone I can make a thank-you for. I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, Nate dumped crayons, markers, and a big sheet of plain white paper on the table.
“Now what are you doing?” Jessica sighed, moving over.
“Making a thank-you picture. I can’t write, but I can draw.”
“Who are you thanking?”
“It’s a surprise.” Nate picked up a yellow crayon, drew a round sun, and colored it in. Then he used markers to make a red house with two blue windows, and a door.
Jessica peered at it. “I know who that picture’s for. It’s for Dad.”
“No,” said Nate, smiling. He drew his black cat, Pepper, and the swing hanging from their big oak tree.
“I bet that picture’s for Mom,” Jessica said.
“Nope.” Nate picked up a blue crayon. He colored birds flying in the sky, and the pond next to their house.
“I’m done,” said Jessica, putting her note into an envelope. “Now I have to write Grandma’s address on it and send it.”
“I’m done, too,” said Nate, coloring a frog by the pond.
“I bet that picture’s for your kindergarten teacher,” Jessica said.
“No,” Nate said. “It’s for someone who gives me different things every day. It’s a thank-you picture for Heavenly Father.”
Jessica smiled. “You’re right, Nate. He does give us all kinds of presents.”
“Do you think He likes my thank-you picture?”
“Sure He does. Everyone likes it when you say thank you.”
Nate smiled. “Help me hang my picture up for Heavenly Father to see. Then I’ll help you mail yours.”

One of my earliest memories of Primary is the day that my teacher, Sister Johnson, invited our Blazer class to her home. Her husband was a carpenter and helped us construct birdhouses. Then, using the scriptures and quotes from modern-day prophets, she talked about the importance of being kind to all of God’s creatures.
I don’t remember too many of the actual lessons taught in Primary, but building something with my hands made that lesson come alive for me. To this day, I try to be nice to birds, as well as to other animals.