Gospel Story Finder

A third experience in the branch came during a discussion the members were having in Sunday School concerning when you should give to those who ask you for aid. One of the members, who had come with his wife from Africa to further his education, raised his hand and told us of the following experience. As he had been walking home in the neighborhood, he had been approached by a man who put a pistol to his chest and demanded all his money. Our member took the money from his pockets and handed it over to the man and then said, “If you need the money that badly, I have more.” He opened his briefcase and took out additional money, which he gave to the robber, saying, “Understand, you are not taking this from me; I am giving it to you in the name of the Lord because you need it.” He said the robber looked at him in amazement, put the pistol in his belt, and said, “Where do you live? I’m going to walk you home because you’re too good a man to be on these streets, and you are not safe here.”
As they started to walk to the member’s apartment, suddenly they were surrounded by police cars because a woman had seen the holdup from her apartment window and had called the police. The police arrested the robber and took him away. Having been the victim, this member was asked to be a witness later at the trial of the robber. At the trial, he testified that although the robber had demanded his money, he had told him that he gave the money to him in the name of the Lord and that if the robber needed it that badly, he wanted him to have it.
Since then, when I hear the Savior’s words, “Him that taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat also,” my mind goes back not only to the Holy Land but also to the hard streets in that eastern city.

A true story from Australia.
“Hurry, Pae!” Keola said to his little brother. “You can do it!”
Keola and his family were at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. They were playing Candy Grab with their cousins—their favorite game to play on Christmas Day. Pae was wearing a blindfold. He was trying to scoop up candy with a spatula and put it in a bucket.
“You have five seconds left!” their older brother, Tauinaola, said. He was holding the timer.
“This is hard!” Pae laughed and pushed his spatula around, spreading the candy all over the floor.
“Time!” Tauinaola called.
Pae pulled off his blindfold. “At least I got a few! Let’s play Ring Toss now.”
Pae, Tauinaola, and their cousins went to another room. Keola was about to follow them, but then he heard Grandma’s voice.
“How’s your Christmas been, Keola?” Grandma stepped over the candy and wrapping paper on the floor and gave Keola a big hug.
“It’s been great!” Keola said.
Earlier, Keola’s grandma, great-grandma, and aunties had made delicious Filipino food for dinner. Keola’s favorite was called pancit, made with rice noodles, chicken, and vegetables fried in a pan.
After dinner, everyone had gathered to read Luke 2. Keola and Pae used their Nativity set to help tell the story. It was nice to remember the birth of Jesus Christ together.
But now Christmas was almost over. Keola frowned. “I wish it didn’t have to end.”
“Me too. But I’m grateful we could spend the day together.” Grandma gave Keola another tight squeeze. “I should go help clean up. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
As Keola watched her go, he saw his parents helping his aunties and uncles clean up the kitchen. They were washing and drying the dishes. Keola didn’t really like cleaning, but he knew there was still a lot to do around the house.
Maybe I should help, he thought to himself.
There were still candy wrappers and wrapping paper on the ground. Keola grabbed a garbage bag from the kitchen. He stuffed all the papers in the bag. Then he walked around and picked up dirty napkins and other trash. After a few minutes, the room already looked cleaner!
Keola wondered what he could do next. His baby cousins had been playing with some books and toys that were still on the floor. He gathered them up and put them away. Then he cleaned up the games that had been left out.
A warm feeling filled Keola’s heart. He knew that the Holy Ghost was telling him he was doing something good. He was happy to be helping!
The good feeling stayed with him as he carried plates and glasses to the kitchen sink. Mom smiled at him as she scrubbed the dishes.
“Thanks for your help, Keola,” she said.
Keola smiled back. “You’re welcome!”
Next, he helped his uncle mop the kitchen floor and put the leftover food away. After that, the house was practically sparkling!
Soon it was time to go home.
Keola waved goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa, then walked down the street with Dad, Mom, and his brothers. Crickets were chirping, and Keola saw the stars shining in the sky. He smiled. It had been a good Christmas. He was happy he had helped his family clean up. And he knew Jesus Christ was happy too.
“The spirit of Christmas brings out the best in us. The warmth and light of Christmas is the Light of Christ.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, “Celebrating Christmas” (First Presidency Christmas devotional, Dec. 8, 2024), Gospel Library.
Illustrations by Mattia Lo Russo

Amelia never expected things to be free or to come easily. She knew that most important things had a price, and she always felt that if she truly wanted something, the price was worth it. When she first wanted to take flying lessons, she was living in California. Her father told her that the thousand-dollar lessons were too expensive. Instead of being discouraged, Amelia found a job at the telephone company and worked long hours to pay for the lessons.
Amelia did as much flying as she could in those early days of aviation, and in 1928 she was invited to become the first woman to cross the Atlantic Ocean in an airplane. She was only a passenger then, but in 1932 she decided to cross the Atlantic again—this time as the first woman pilot to fly across it!
On the evening of Friday, May 20, 1932, she took off from Harbour Grace, Newfoundland. Early in the flight the altimeter, which measures the distance an airplane is above the ground or water, stopped working. It was a very dark night, and clouds blocked out the light of the moon. A lightning storm arose. Visability was poor, and Amelia couldn’t see how high above the water she was. She decided to try flying above the clouds where she would have moonlight and be safely away from the storm and the ocean. However, as she climbed through the cloud layer, ice formed on the plane’s wings. The extra weight caused the plane to go into a spinning dive. As the plane came closer to the surface of the water, the ice melted from the wings and Amelia was able to pull the plane out of the spin. But she had been close enough to the ocean to see the whitecaps on the waves.
Later during the same flight Amelia noticed flames trailing from a broken weld in the manifold of her engine. If the flames caused the manifold to weaken and break apart, the airplane might crash. Amelia could have turned back to Harbour Grace, but “there was nothing to do about it … ,” she said. “So it seemed sensible to keep going.” Although the flames never ceased and the manifold rattled steadily, Amelia made it to Ireland. She landed there in a pasture rather than continuing on to Paris as she had planned.
In her lifetime Amelia broke several long-distance flying records. She believed that one day everyone would fly from one part of the world to another and that nations and peoples would therefore come to understand each other better. She knew this could only happen if difficult exploratory flights were made first in order to learn important information about piloting, flying conditions, and airplane design and safety. “Every flight … is potentially important,” she said. “It may yield valuable knowledge. We can look at all flights across the Atlantic and see that each, in its way, has done some definite good.”
When she wasn’t flying, Amelia kept busy by lecturing, writing, counseling at a university, and helping to start a number of commercial airline services. In 1931 she married George P. Putnam, a book publisher.
In spite of her time-consuming activities, Amelia still felt that she needed to make one more long-distance flight. She told her husband that it would be her last long flight.
On January 11, 1937, Amelia started her flight by flying west from Oakland, California, to Hawaii. Then she had an accident while trying to take off in Honolulu, and she was delayed several weeks until major repairs were completed on her Lockheed Electra airplane. During this time it was decided that Amelia should fly around the world going east instead of west.
It was May 1937 when she finally took off from Oakland again. Amelia said she was just making a test flight. On board with her were Fred Noonan, her navigator; Bo McKneeley, her mechanic; and her husband. Things went so well, however, that they continued on to Miami, where on June 1 Amelia and Fred Noonan took off to finish the eastward flight around the world. A month later, on July 2, 1937, Amelia Earhart’s plane was lost while she was trying to locate Howland Island in the South Pacific Ocean. She had completed more than two-thirds of her around-the-world flight. Neither she, Fred Noonan, nor the airplane were ever found.
Amelia deserved the tribute that newspaper columnist Walter Lippmann had previously written about her: “The world is a better place to live in because it contains human beings who will give up ease and security, and stake their own lives in order to do what they themselves think worth doing.”

Elder Benjamin M. Z. Tai’s paternal grandfather was captured, imprisoned, and executed by Japanese forces invading Hong Kong during World War II.
Decades later, Elder Tai met his future wife, Naomi Toma, from Japan, while serving as elders quorum president in his student ward at Brigham Young University. Naomi was serving as Relief Society president.
When Benjamin told his father, emeritus General Authority Elder Kwok Yuen Tai, that he was dating and hoping to marry Naomi, his father expressed no bitterness. In fact, Naomi’s parents, Rikuo and Fumiko Toma, came to Hong Kong to visit Benjamin’s parents. Her parents noted that the gospel of Jesus Christ had made their marriage possible. The couple married in the Salt Lake Temple on December 23, 1995. They are the parents of six children.
“We come from different cultures, but there are threads of common faith and sacrifice,” says Elder Tai. Elder Tai knows that those threads of faith and sacrifice will now connect him with Latter-day Saints across the globe.

One day at recess, my friend Brooklyn and I saw a younger girl from another grade sitting next to the wall, crying.
“What’s wrong?” Brooklyn asked.
“I don’t have any friends to play with,” the girl sniffed.
She told us her friends had moved away. Now she didn’t know anyone in her grade to play with. I felt bad for her. I knew how it felt to lose a friend.
“We know how you feel,” Brooklyn told the girl.
“Maybe after school you could talk to your mom,” I said.
The girl nodded.
“Do you have a journal or diary to write in? It helps,” I said.
We spent the rest of recess talking and giving her tips on how to make new friends.
The bell rang, and we had to leave to go back to class. I felt the Spirit helping her, and I knew I did what Jesus wanted me to do.

A stake president in Logan, Utah, kept a guest book, and after he passed away that book was given to his son. When the son thumbed through the pages, he was impressed with the signatures that were there. Most of the General Authorities had signed the book. One entry he saw was:

Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1954
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

He thumbed through many more pages, and then he saw an almost identical entry ten years later:

Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1964
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

We all knew President Spencer W. Kimball as a man of love. He thought of love as a way to overcome even unknown offenses. Such an incident occurred with one of his neighbors who would go out and talk to President Kimball whenever he saw him in the yard. Until one day the neighbor’s wife said, “You mustn’t do that. The only time President Kimball is alone is when he is in the yard, and then you go over and impose yourself upon him.” After that the neighbor stayed in and just watched President Kimball through the window. A few weeks passed before President Kimball rang the neighbor’s doorbell and handed him a casserole. “What’s this for?” the neighbor asked. “I don’t know,” replied President Kimball. “I’ve come to make amends for whatever I’ve done to offend you. You never come and talk to me anymore, so I decided I must have done something wrong.”
It was President Kimball who so lovingly explained to us that the Lord whispers to our hearts to go and do and in this way he answers the fervent prayers of others. President Kimball said the Lord has chosen this method of answering prayers because he knows it is the way we will learn most effectively to give love.

In my youth I learned an important lesson about how our actions may limit our freedom. One day my father assigned me to varnish a wooden floor. I made the choice to begin at the door and work my way into the room. When I was almost finished, I realized I had left myself no way to get out. There was no window or door on the other side. I had literally painted myself into a corner. I had no place to go. I was stuck.
Whenever we disobey, we spiritually paint ourselves into a corner and are captive to our choices. Though we are spiritually stuck, there is always a way back. Like repentance, turning around and walking across a newly varnished floor means more work—a lot of resanding and refinishing! Returning to the Lord isn’t easy, but it is worth it.

May I share with you an account of an opportunity of service which came to me unexpectedly and in an unusual manner. I received a telephone call from a granddaughter of an old friend. She asked, “Do you remember Francis Brems, who was your Sunday School teacher?” I told her that I did. She continued, “He is now 105 years of age. He lives in a small care center but meets with the entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a Sunday School lesson. Last Sunday, Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson and tell him this. He’ll know what to do.’”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I could not speak to him, for he was deaf. I could not write a message for him to read, for he was blind. What was I to do? I was told that his family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting and then any message. I followed the procedure and took his finger and spelled on the palm of his hand T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward, tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands, and we read the movement of his lips. The message: “Thank you so much.”
Within that very week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. I received the telephone call and then met with the family as funeral arrangements were made. How thankful I am that a response to render service was not delayed.
The bridge of service invites us to cross over it frequently.

We sustain Gordon B. Hinckley as the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and as the prophet, seer, and revelator of the Church in our time. A letter which I received from a proud father tells of an experience with his then five-year-old son and of the boy’s love for the President of the Church and desire to follow his example.
The father wrote: “When Christopher was five years old, he would get ready for church on Sundays mostly by himself. On one particular Sunday, he decided that he wanted to wear a suit and tie, which to that point he had never done. He scoured the closet on his own for a hand-me-down tie and produced a rather used clip-on one that he didn’t need to create a knot for. He attached the tie to his white shirt, then capped it off with the small navy jacket that had hung for years in the boys’ closet.
“On his own, he went into the bathroom and painstakingly combed his blond hair to perfection. About that time, I came into the bathroom to finish getting ready myself. I found Christopher beaming at himself in the mirror. Without taking his eyes off his reflection, he proclaimed proudly, ‘Look, Papa—Christopher B. Hinckley!’”
A boy had been watching the prophet of the Lord.

I am from a tiny town in Georgia. As you might guess, there are very few members of the Church here. In my school, there are five.
I was in seventh grade when my trouble began. All my friends were starting to experiment with alcohol and cigarettes. I was popular back then, so I felt it was my “obligation” to try them. Luckily, I only did it once. I have, however, regretted those spontaneous, thoughtless mistakes every day since. I have also had trials with morality.
This was long ago and my rebellious days are over, but I cannot express the regret I have for those mistakes.
The Atonement has taken on a new meaning in my life. I am now the brunt of many Mormon jokes, but as John 15:19 says, “Ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.”
I have learned to not settle for instant gratification. Many times these mistakes can scar you forever. If only I had thought about that back then.
I will be eternally indebted to my Savior for His endless mercy and love toward me. I am so grateful to be a member of the Church. It has brought me eternal happiness and joy. I look around the halls at my school at all the nonmembers who don’t know what I know, and I feel my testimony grow when I realize who I am—a daughter of God—and where I am going.

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.

This time, as I opened my mouth, I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. “At church once, some old guy told a story,” I began. “It’s about a kid who’s 18 and goes to work on a fishing boat out of St. John’s. And sometime in the summer of his first year on the boat it hits a sandbar and sinks. Most of the crew climbs aboard the lifeboat, but this guy and the captain get caught by a current and pulled away.
“They don’t have life jackets or anything, and for a long time they just tread water—hoping for someone to find ’em.”
“Wow,” from Lanny, who had been on enough fishing boats to know how big the ocean was, and how impossible it would be to find anyone swimming in it.
“Anyway, finally the captain realizes that the water’s too cold for them to last much longer, so he swims over to the kid and says ‘We’re not gonna make it.’ And he asks the kid if he’s religious. Well, the kid is just like me. He’s a Mormon, but he’s been kind of goofing off and it’s been a while since he’s been active. But he says he’ll say a prayer for ’em.”
“And what happened?”
“He and the captain close their eyes, and the kid says a prayer out loud … And when they open their eyes they see the light of a buoy. They swim over and hang on, and a few hours later they are found.”
Lanny smiled. “And the guy telling the story turns out to be the 18-year-old kid, right?”
“Uh, no. The guy telling the story was the captain. He joined the Church.”

You probably remember, as I do, the first talk you ever gave in church. It was frightening, wasn’t it? It’s always been a hard thing for me to speak in front of a large group of people. But the Church gives us so many Opportunities to learn. I can remember when our Primary class was giving a special presentation in sacrament meeting on Mother’s Day. Mom had to hold my hand while I stepped up on the platform. I said the first two words. Then, to her surprise, I jumped into her arms and cried, “You say it.” Everyone else laughed, but I didn’t.

I often asked my parents what it means to “feel the Holy Ghost.” I had heard them talk about it, but I was not sure what the feeling was like. Mom told me it was a very good feeling, but I still wasn’t sure what that meant.
One morning my one-year-old brother was running around and accidentally hit his head on a heater. He had a big cut on his head. He cried, and he was bleeding. I was very scared and worried. My mom took care of the cut and put a bandage on it. Then she took me to school.
At school I was still scared and worried about my brother. Then I remembered that I could pray. I went into the bathroom and sincerely prayed to Heavenly Father and asked Him to bless my brother. After the prayer I was no longer scared. I felt a very peaceful feeling, and I went back to my classroom.
On the way home that day, I told my mother what had happened. She joyfully told me that the warm, peaceful feeling I had was the Holy Ghost comforting me. She said that usually the Holy Ghost does not talk to us like other people talk to us. Instead He gives us a peaceful feeling.

In April 1986, a little over a month before Kirill was born, a terrible nuclear accident occurred at Chernobyl, 96 kilometers from Kiev. Many children were taken in buses from town to camps to protect them from radiation. Kirill’s mother went to the country, too. She was afraid he would be born with serious problems. When he was born a month early, his mother asked the doctor, “Does he have hands and legs?” She was relieved to learn that he did. Tanya has trouble with her eyes and has had three operations on them. Her mother doesn’t know if this was caused by the Chernobyl accident or not.

It had been years since I had attended sacrament meeting at the care center. But now, representing the stake Relief Society presidency, I had come back to visit a ward conference session at the nursing home.
As the prelude music signaled the beginning of the meeting, I glanced around the room. Some of those who attended were suffering the infirmities of old age. Others had been stricken with abnormalities at birth, and their whole lives had been upward struggles. Just to sit or to be strapped to a wheelchair was an accomplishment.
To my left was a familiar wheelchair, a little apart from the semicircle. I had seen this little lady each time I had visited. Thick, straight hair, squared to the chin, framed her bony face. Her jaw was twisted and loose, and her long tongue often hung out. The rest of her body was twisted and contorted, as though her joints were trying to bend in the wrong direction. But, strapped to her wheelchair, she seemed to await the meeting as anxiously as anyone else.
We sang and prayed, and as the meeting progressed, I watched the sacrament table. One of the priests seemed confident and experienced, while the other looked nervous. Then the deacons caught my eye as they approached the table, received the trays, and began to pass the sacrament.
One of them stepped up to the woman in the wheelchair. Her arm was twisted through the bar of the arm rail; her palsied shoulder did not respond. As the deacon approached, her twisted, toothless mouth fell open. Without hesitation, he took a piece of bread and placed it on her tongue.
From across the room came a high-pitched voice: “Did you see that sweet boy give bread to Rosie?”
At the amen ending the prayer on the water, I thought, “Shall I get up and help her with that tiny cup? How will she manage?” While I sat in my chair, the same deacon gently poured the water into that helpless mouth, blessing Rosie again with his service.
I sat, ashamed at my failure to act. Then, as that deacon stood before me, I saw the trembling in his hands, the questioning in his eyes, a pleading to know if he had done right. All I had seen was his strength and compassion. I nodded and tried to reassure him with a smile.
Had he been primed or prepared for that moment, or was it spontaneous? Either way, it was a hard thing for a 12-year-old boy. And I was overcome with appreciation for a young priesthood servant quietly fulfilling just another quorum assignment.

Often in the temple, and as we engage in family history research, we feel promptings and have impressions from the Holy Ghost. Occasionally in the temple the veil between us and those on the other side becomes very thin. We get additional assistance in our efforts to be saviors on Mount Zion.
Several years ago in a temple in Central America, the wife of one of our now-emeritus General Authorities assisted a father, a mother, and their children in receiving eternal covenants in the sealing room, where the temple mirrors are located. As they concluded and faced those mirrors, she noticed there was a face in the mirror that was not in the room. She inquired of the mother and learned that a daughter had passed away and accordingly was not physically present. The deceased daughter was then included by proxy in the sacred ordinance. Never underestimate the assistance provided in temples from the other side of the veil.

Last year I had some friends who did not respect my standards. They told me that I was boring, that my standards didn’t let me be free or have fun. I pondered, prayed, and read the scriptures so that the Holy Ghost would be with me and give me more strength. I then decided to tell my friends that I had fun in another way—not smoking, not drinking alcohol. These standards give me a lot of freedom, more than they have, since they are tied to alcohol and tobacco. After telling them this, they understood me. But even so, I decided to change friends. I was alone for some time, but later on I did find some friends with standards like mine, and now I feel good. Heavenly Father is going to bless you if you do what is right.
Belén G., 15, Colonia, Uruguay

One day my missionary companion and I received a phone call from a ward mission leader. He told me there was a woman who was dying and wanted the elders to give her a blessing. I immediately felt uncomfortable but said we would do it. As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help but think, Bless someone who is dying? What kind of blessing do you give to someone who is about to die?
Before we left I knelt down and prayed. I asked Heavenly Father to help me exercise my priesthood.
We met the ward mission leader outside the house where the woman was staying. He told us they hadn’t expected her to live through the previous night.
The mother led us to the room where her daughter was. She knocked on the door and said, “Honey, the elders are here to give you a blessing.” As she opened the door, I caught my first glimpse of the woman.
My heart ached as I saw her lying on the bed. She was a woman in her mid-40s and completely bald due to medical treatment. She slowly opened her eyes, and I smiled as kindly as I could.
It was decided that my companion would anoint her and I would seal the anointing.
My mind raced as I tried to think of what to say, but nothing seemed right. My companion finished, and I looked at her, so frail looking, so weak. What am I going to do? I thought. Just bless her was the reply to my silent question.
I felt a great calm come over me as I laid my hands upon her head. I called her by name, stated my authority, and paused. Then the Spirit took over. Words flowed to my mind as I blessed her. Where was all this coming from? It was amazing. Never before had I given a blessing like this.
I closed in the name of Jesus Christ, took my hands off her head, and wiped my eyes. I had started crying almost as soon as I had begun. She took my hand in hers and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Thank you” was all I could say in return. Everyone in the room was crying. The mother said, “You can feel the Spirit so strongly.” The woman’s sister took me aside and said, “Thank you. She has been so scared. That was exactly what she needed to hear.” As I left I thought about what had happened. I should have remembered that blessings don’t come from men. They come from God through men. That blessing was exactly what she needed to hear because Heavenly Father knew what she needed.

An example of true love and inspired teaching was found in the life of the late James Collier, who had, through his personal efforts, reactivated a large number of brethren in Bountiful, Utah. I was invited by Brother Collier to address those who had now been ordained elders and who, with their wives and families, had been to the Salt Lake Temple to receive those eternal covenants and blessings for which they had so earnestly strived.

At the banquet honoring this achievement, I could see and I could feel the love that Jim had for those whom he had taught and rescued and the love they had for him. Unfortunately, Jim Collier at that time was afflicted with a terminal illness and had to persuade the doctors to allow him to leave the hospital to attend this final night of recognition.

As Jim stood at the pulpit, a large smile came over his face. With emotion he expressed his love to the group. There wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Brother Collier quipped, “Everyone wants to go to the celestial kingdom, but no one wants to die to get there.” Then, lowering his voice, Jim continued, “I’m prepared to go, and I will be there waiting on the other side to greet each of you, my beloved friends.”

Jim returned to the hospital. His funeral service was held just a short time later.