Gospel Story Finder

Amidst the terrible hostilities in Missouri that would put the Prophet in Liberty Jail and see thousands of Latter-day Saints driven from their homes, Sister Drusilla Hendricks and her invalid husband, James, … arrived with their children at a hastily shaped dugout in Quincy, Illinois, to live out the spring of that … year [of great suffering].
Within two weeks the Hendrickses were on the verge of starvation, having only one spoonful of sugar and a saucerful of cornmeal remaining in their possession. In the great tradition of LDS women, Drusilla made mush out of it for James and the children, thus stretching its contents as far as she could make it go. When that small offering was [eaten by them], she washed everything, cleaned their little dugout as thoroughly as she could, and quietly waited to die.
Not long thereafter the sound of a wagon brought Drusilla to her feet. It was their neighbor Reuben Allred. He said he had a feeling they were out of food, so on his way into town he’d had a sack of grain ground into meal for them.
Shortly thereafter Alexander Williams arrived with two bushels of meal on his shoulder. He told Drusilla that he’d been extremely busy but the Spirit had whispered to him that “Brother Hendricks’ family is suffering, so I dropped everything and came [running].”

In 2019, the program was approved, and I was among the first generation of students in Kinshasa to be enrolled. The beginning was difficult for me, because I had a full-time job and lived in a different area from the meeting location. But I had the support of my family and my friend Patrick Kalambayi. We both walked a long distance to attend the meetings and returned home late. Sometimes we didn’t have electricity. We were looking for places with electricity to charge our computer.

At one point, the government authorities shut down internet due to some political issues. My friend and I went to the local UN agency for help, telling them we had to send our school assignments and we needed connection to the internet to do our homework. I have a testimony that Heavenly Father puts people in our path to support and help us in times of adversity, such as electricity and internet access shortages.

After completing PathwayConnect, I decided to enroll in the public health program at Brigham Young University-Idaho. I completed a certification in public health planning and implementation, health method evaluation and epidemiology. I have learned to support the world in disease prevention and developed a pandemic health program. I was very happy to support my country during the COVID-19 breakout in Kinshasa. People were amazing. I learned more skills about how to control this disease in my community.

The BYU-Pathway Worldwide program helped me to understand that we must be faithful and improve our skills to establish the kingdom of our Savior on the earth. This program increased my knowledge of the Savior and motivated me to gain more skills and to become more faithful.

Instead of dwelling on difficulties and struggle, I have learned to trust the Lord and to pursue my education at famous universities across the world. Today I am proud to say that I earned three university degrees: one from my country, one from India, and one from the United States. As a result, I have increased my income, my faith in Jesus Christ, and my skills in the field of public health.

The skills that I learned during my journey have helped me to build a health nongovernmental organization and work in mental health awareness in the DRC. My recent experience, when I was applying for a new job as a public health specialist at the Center for Disease Control in DRC, the human resources team was surprised that I have an American degree and I live in Congo, and it was easy for them to verify this from my diploma.

The hiring process was interesting and each step I went through, I learned to be ready due to the PathwayConnect program, preparing my CV and cover letter, enjoying the interview, and showing people my unique qualifications. I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for the opportunity He gave me to join the team of the Center for Disease Control in DRC to prevent, detect and control disease in my country.

As an African, we are blessed to have an American degree, serve our community, and strengthen the Church in our local area. BYU-Pathway Worldwide blesses my life, my family, and my country in this specific time. The program helped me to understand the principle of working hard quietly and to let your success be your noise.

Whatever level you are in life and whether you have a degree or not, please join the program and work hard, the Lord knows your effort and will assist you to gain a new degree and develop more skills and the world will pay you based on your education and skills.

I once had a friend who said offensive things to someone close to me. His words were disappointing, but I decided to approach him and tell him how I felt. The next time we saw each other, he thanked me for reminding him of his goodness, and I learned that he had apologized to my other friend and made amends.
As Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–1994) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “It takes courage to be a real friend. … A friend is a person who will suggest and render the best for us regardless of the immediate consequences.”3 It was scary to be honest with my friend, but that’s what spiritual allies and true friends do—they help each other to grow, to become more Christlike, and to progress on the covenant path.

While we were on an assignment in Japan, a Church leader invited us to visit his home. We were honored to have this opportunity but wondered what his wife would think of her husband’s last-minute invitation to bring visitors from Salt Lake City home. En route, the man telephoned his wife, giving her what seemed to me about 15 minutes to prepare for this unexpected company.
From the moment we stepped inside the front door, slipped off our shoes, and were graciously greeted by a young, soft-spoken Relief Society sister, I sensed a spirit of order, peace, and love. Little children scurried upstairs carrying their playthings. In this family of eight, with seven still living at home, it was clear what the family valued. Evidences of the Lord were all around—pictures of the Savior on the wall, a family photograph and picture of the temple in a prominent place, copies of well-used scriptures and Church videos neatly stacked on a nearby shelf. “The fruit of the Spirit, … love, joy, peace, … gentleness, goodness, faith,” seemed to reside in that home. I imagined the small room filled with children of all ages as parents sat around the low table to “talk of Christ, [to] rejoice in Christ, [to] preach of Christ, [to] prophesy of Christ, … that [their] children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.” I sensed the answer the children in this home would give to the question posed by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: “Do [our] children know that we love God with all our heart and that we long to see the face—and fall at the feet—of His Only Begotten Son?” I believe the response to that question in this Japanese home would be a resounding yes!

A woman was converted up in Idaho. She comes down to see me often. She calls me after nearly every conference. She is a nurse. She gave me a check for $500 for the children’s hospital because, at the death of her husband, one of our Saints visited her to tell her what she might expect in the future if she just knew the truth. I got a letter from her recently. She said she had found more love in this Church than she had ever known in her life—even from her own mother.

As a young girl growing up in communist Czechoslovakia, I was always trying to discover the purpose of my life. As I looked at my parents and at other adults around me, I wondered: Is this the life I will have to live after finishing school? Will I always be tired, unhappy, without any freedom? Life seemed meaningless.
I didn’t believe in God, because nobody had ever taught me about him. In fact, the communists taught us in school that there is no God, no life after death, and no spirit. So why do I live? I wondered. Without a purpose in life, I did not have any desire to be better. I was very unhappy.
One day in 1989, while I was a student at a university, one of my schoolmates took me to a meeting where a small group of young people were listening to the words of an older man. He spoke with great authority, and I was impressed. I learned that he was Otakar Vojkuvka from Brno, Czechoslovakia, and that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As he spoke about God and about the purpose of our lives, I knew he was telling the truth. His words were medicine for my spirit! I was so happy.
Suddenly I knew that I was not a worthless piece of matter living just by chance—but that I was actually a child of God! I received the Book of Mormon, read it, and had no doubts about its truthfulness. And as I discovered these truths, I had the feeling that I had known these things before. It seemed to me that I was awakening, taking off dark glasses, and seeing the truth clearly.
At that time, missionaries were not allowed in Czechoslovakia. But that fall, Czechs gained freedom through the “velvet revolution,” and the Church received official recognition in the country in March 1990. I was baptized in May of that year.
My life totally changed. It became a joy to study, because now there was purpose in life. I made many friends, tried to be a better person and to do what is right, and started to realize what it means to be happy. I finally knew why I was alive.
With this new-found happiness and purpose, I had great desires to serve a mission. In May 1992, two years after my baptism, I received a call to serve a mission in my native Czechoslovakia. Soon I found myself standing with my suitcases at the bus station in my first city, which was not too far from my home. I was really happy on my mission. I learned patience and tolerance—and had the wonderful privilege of sharing with others what I had learned about the purpose and meaning of life.
Now I have completed my full-time mission and live in Prague, Czech Republic. Occasionally I see people I taught as a missionary, some of whom were baptized. We are still friends. I am happy now because I know what love, charity, and service are. I want to live in such a way that I can fulfill the meaning of my life on this earth. And that is possible only through the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Roberto frowned. This was only his second time at Primary since he had moved from Chile to America, and already his teacher was telling the class she loved him.
How can she say such a thing? Roberto wondered. She does not even know me. And besides, why should anyone love a chubby boy who doesn’t have nice clothes to wear? Tears threatened to fill his eyes as he thought of the many relatives and friends he had left behind in South America. He had been so lonely since his father had died. He and his mother had come to Utah so that she could learn English and attend Brigham Young University.
“I have made each of you a special valentine,” Sister Porter said, handing each child a shiny foil heart on which she had written “I love you.” Roberto took his but shrugged off the hug his teacher tried to give him. Later, when he got home, he tore up the card and threw it in the garbage.
All that week, Roberto felt very sad. During class, he looked out the window and daydreamed about moving back to Chile. He was never going to fit in here.
On Thursday afternoon, Roberto walked home from school. He forgot all about locking the door behind him when he saw a note from his mother taped to the refrigerator: “I’m taking a test. I’ll be back at 5:30. Read the Friends Sister Porter dropped off for you.”
After fixing himself a snack, Roberto began to leaf through the magazines.
First he looked at the pictures. Then he started to read a few stories. After a while he noticed that the sad and lonely feelings were starting to go away.
Then he remembered the unkind things some children had said on the school bus that morning when they thought that he couldn’t hear. One of the children had been in his Primary class! Hurt and anger began to build up inside him again until he looked down at the magazine in his hands. There was a picture of the Savior with little children all around Him. Roberto was surprised to find tears of happiness in his eyes. It was almost as if a voice was saying to him, “Jesus loves you, Roberto.”
A feeling of warmth and love surrounded him, and he knew somehow that the Savior truly did know him and love him. He was filled with hope and an overwhelming assurance that in time he would have many friends in his new school and ward.
Roberto thought back to Sunday and how Sister Porter must have felt when he pulled away from her hug. I will make her a valentine, he decided, jumping up and gathering paper and crayons. Then he remembered the new colored markers his mother had bought for her college classes. They were on top of the highest shelf in the kitchen, and he climbed onto the counter to get them.
Stretching as far as he could, he couldn’t quite reach them. He jumped just a little but lost his balance and fell. Twisting awkwardly, he plunged to the floor and heard an ugly cracking noise as he landed on his left arm.
Never had he felt such pain! His arm felt as if it was on fire. He knew that he should telephone his mother, but as soon as he tried to stand, waves of nausea and dizziness washed over him, forcing him back to the floor.
The clock on the wall read ten to four. Swallowing back the tears, Roberto began a silent prayer, asking Heavenly Father to send someone to help. As he worked up his courage to crawl to the phone, a car pulled into the driveway. His mother! Heavenly Father had sent her home early! But then he heard a knock, and after several moments, a familiar voice called his name.
“Help me!” Roberto yelled. “I’m hurt!”
The door opened and Sister Porter looked in. “What happened?” she asked, hurrying to his side.
“My arm—I think I broke it.” Roberto was embarrassed by his tears, but his teacher didn’t say anything about them as she gently helped him up and made him as comfortable as possible on the couch in the living room.
“Where’s your mother?” she asked him then. “Your arm will need to be X-rayed.” After leaving a message at the university for his mother, Sister Porter sat beside him. “I see you’ve been reading the magazines I sent over. Did you find any stories you really liked?”
Roberto felt a little shy, but talking helped keep his mind off the pain. “I read a lot of the stories, but the best part was finding this picture of Jesus with the little children. I have never seen it before.”
Sister Porter studied the picture, and a very peaceful look came to her face. “I think that this is a special picture, too, Roberto. Whenever I look at it, I feel how much love Jesus has for all children.”
Roberto found himself telling his teacher about his feelings on Sunday and all during the week. Then, somewhat sheepishly, he admitted that he had torn up the valentine he had received in class. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I was going to use my mom’s special markers to make you a valentine. They were up high, and when I climbed up to get them, I fell.”
Sister Porter smiled as she gently patted his cheek. “Crayons will do fine.”
Just then Roberto’s mother came in. “Roberto! Oh Roberto!” She knelt beside him, very tenderly feeling the large lump on his arm. “It must be broken. We will go to the hospital right away.” She looked at Sister Porter with worry and pleading in her eyes. “There will be many insurance papers. My English is not very good. …”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Sister Porter said. “I’ll call my children and have them fix supper. I’ll go with you to the hospital and help you with the papers.”
That evening was a long one. Many people were waiting in the emergency room, and it seemed forever before a nurse called Roberto’s name and he was examined and X-rayed. Never having had a cast before, Roberto felt a bit nervous. But Sister Porter stayed with him the whole time, entertaining him with a story about the time her oldest son had fallen from the backyard swing set and had broken his wrist.
Roberto lay on the examining table after the cast was applied. He was surprised to see that it was almost nine o’clock. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked his teacher. “Doesn’t your family need you?”
“They’ll be fine,” Sister Porter said, producing a granola bar from the depths of her purse. “Feel up to sharing this?”
They ate and talked while they waited for Roberto’s mother. Sister Porter had found a Spanish-speaking nurse to help his mother fill out the insurance forms.
“Do you know why I came to your house this afternoon?” Sister Porter asked.
Roberto shook his head.
“I was on my way home from running errands, and I felt prompted to stop my van. I think you must have been praying for help. Were you?”
“I was! I asked Heavenly Father to send someone. I am very glad He sent you.” Roberto smiled at his teacher.
Sister Porter asked to borrow a red marking pen from one of the nurses passing by.
“What do you need a marker for?” Roberto asked.
Sister Porter winked and uncapped the pen. “In this country, we have a tradition,” she said. “If someone gets a cast, we write nice messages on it. May I be the first to write on yours?”
Roberto nodded, curious and pleased.
Sister Porter drew a large red heart, then wrote I • U in the middle of it. She grinned mischievously. “This one you can’t rip up and throw away!”
“Don’t worry,” Roberto said, his eyes twinkling. “Today I have learned that you really do love me!”

Pat Morrell didn’t let her age prevent her from starting something new either. Needing to supplement the family’s income, she returned to school after her children were grown and studied to be a nurse. Several years later, she graduated from nursing school and is doing work she has always wanted to do. “I wasn’t a good student in high school, so I was unsure whether I could complete requirements for nursing,” she says. “It took six years of squeezing classes in between a day job cleaning houses and caring for others to finish my degree. Besides time, it also took persistence, patience, and support from others—and many blessings.”

One member was seated in his government office wondering how he could possibly pay the amount suggested by his bishop. As he prayed for guidance, the idea came to him, “Just ask for a raise in pay; that’s all you need to do.” So vivid was the message that he did just that. Calculating what he could pay from his own resources, he promptly applied for a raise equal to the amount he yet needed. To his surprise, his request was approved. Moreover, it was made retroactive for a year, enabling him to pay the amount requested much earlier than he had thought possible.

On one occasion I took to the Genealogical Society eight large volumes, manuscript family history work, consisting of 6,000 family group records of very professional family history work, all on the Packer family. All of it was compiled by Warren Packer, originally from Ohio, a schoolteacher, a Lutheran. He has spent 30 years doing this work, not really knowing why. There are two more volumes now added to the others. He senses now why he has been involved in this work over the years and very much has the spirit of the work.

On a trip to visit my brother, I was seated in the back of the plane where the flight attendants sit. The two rows of seats in that area face each other.
I introduced myself to the people sitting around me and then mentioned that I would be attending Brigham Young University. A man sitting across from me said his daughter had a good friend who had just left on a full-time mission. His daughter knew a little about the Church, but he knew almost nothing. The flight attendant immediately proclaimed that she wouldn’t want to belong to “that church” because it opposed women. The man said he had heard something similar—that Latter-day Saint women were considered less than men, that they couldn’t hold the priesthood or preside in meetings, and that the Church was male dominated.
Then, turning to me, he asked, “How do you feel about that?” All seven people turned to me and waited.
My heart began pounding. As a child I had memorized the Articles of Faith for just such an encounter, and as a teenager and young adult I had practiced bearing testimony of Joseph Smith’s vision and of the Book of Mormon. But I didn’t have the faintest idea how to answer the man’s question. I prayed silently for Heavenly Father to guide me.
Then I said the first words that came to my mind: “You simply don’t know about Relief Society.” The looks on their faces indicated that they didn’t.
“The priesthood functions in conjunction with the women, all of whom are members of Relief Society,” I explained. “We have a woman Relief Society president who guides the activities of the women in the Church all over the world. The responsibility of the women is to bring tenderness and charity into the lives of the members and especially into the lives of their families.”
The people around me listened attentively.
“We live in a strange time when some women want women to act and think and be like men. But we believe God divides tasks. We expect women to be leaders among the women and joint leaders in their homes. The men lean heavily on us for counsel in these areas. It is a righteous balance. It makes our Church organizations and our homes successful. And we truly believe that the man is not without the woman, nor is the woman without the man in the Lord (see 1 Corinthians 11:11). We believe we are not whole without each other. We do not believe we were created to compete with one another but to complement one another.”
I felt blessed when I had finished. I knew the words I had spoken were from the Spirit. Every person seemed satisfied with my explanation. Then the man said, “Tell us more about your church.”
Then, for the next two hours, I had the joyous opportunity of talking about the Restoration, answering questions, and bearing testimony of the gospel I love.

“My dad is mission president, and they’ve had some baptisms from the open house,” said Kent Edman. “But the temple’s influence has been more than that, because it’s sparked a lot of interest.

“The people I work for live on the same road as the temple, and when they found out I was Mormon they were really interested. The lady wanted to know if she could have her daughter married in the temple, even though they’re Jewish. I’ve taken them some literature about the temple. The temple has helped the missionaries a lot because it’s a good door opener. People want to know more about it.”

A few years ago, the Campbells lived on Chestnut Street in town. Their home was spacious and it had a swimming pool. The Campbells had two sons, but were told by doctors that because of medical complications it was unlikely Sister Campbell would have any more children. So the parents decided to continue their family anyway—by adopting.

“We feel as though we’ve always been a family,” Phil said. “Some of us just took a little longer to get here. First came Mike (who is 19 and currently serving in the Washington Seattle Mission), then myself. Then we adopted Lynn. Then we decided Lynn needed a sister, and Julie was adopted. Then the agency called and asked if we would like another girl, and Christine joined us. Then we wanted Jabez (“J.J.”) to even up the boy-girl ratio.

“Dad and mom prayed and prayed about having another child of their own but had nearly abandoned hope, even though they felt the Lord would bless them. Then miraculously Sam was born without any problems. It surprised everyone, since we had figured J. J. was the caboose! Then when Joe (“Little Bear”) was adopted, he filled in the space between Christine and Lynn. Then we wanted another girl, but Monty Jr. (“June Bug”) needed a home, and we all fell in love with him.

“We thought that was it, but then the agency called and asked mom and dad if they wanted two more!” So Nicholas and Doug joined the family. Now the roll call at the dinner table reads like this: Mike (he’s always remembered, and sometimes his letters are read aloud), Phillip, Christine, Joe, Lynn, Julie, Jabez, Nicholas, Sammy (5), Doug (4), and Monty Jr. (2). “That makes 11,” Sister Campbell said, smiling. “And now we figure one more would be perfect.”

Sister Campbell explained that she and her husband are the only Indians listed with the adoption agency, and that because they have such a positive record, the local magistrate (himself one of 11 children) is eager to help. “It’s our experience in family court that we don’t find too many happy occasions such as this,” Judge Victor E. Manz said. “At a time when people say the family is falling apart, this family is a true inspiration.” Although the children come from various tribes, they are all adopted into the Cayuga tribe when they join the family.

Such was the case when, at age 17, Kevin competed in the Tenth International Chopin Competition in Warsaw, Poland. He placed tenth out of 180 contestants from 37 countries and was the only American of 31 in the competition to receive an award. He was also honored as the youngest contestant ever in the history of the competition. All the other entrants were graduates of college or the equivalent, and the field of contestants included 22 graduates from New York’s Julliard School of Music.
To prepare for the competition, and to take advantage of an opportunity to study with a Polish professor named Ludwik Stefanski, Kevin and his mother moved to Poland for the summer before and the first semester of his senior year in high school.
“A lot of people in Poland had heard about the Mormons, but they really knew little about them,” Kevin said. “One time, though, there was a program on Polish television about Brigham Young leading the pioneers.
“Once when we were eating dinner, a man said, ‘Why did you stop eating your chicken? Are you Mormon?’ I got to explain to him that indeed I was Mormon, but that I had stopped eating my chicken because I was full. I got to teach many people a little bit about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Many didn’t even know that Mormons are Christians.”
Kevin said he also feels that he was able to touch people through his performance on stage. “People have told me they can feel something different in my music. I hope it’s because I try to convey the Spirit through the things I play.” The Chopin Competition is extremely popular throughout the country, and Kevin became something of a hero to many of the young people. At one performance some young fans stood just in front of the stage for the entire performance because there weren’t enough seats.

Recently I talked to a sister who was in the psychiatric unit of a local hospital. She shared with me her sorrowful journey from complete mental and physical health, a wonderful marriage and family, into mental illness, debilitating health, and the breakup of her family—all of which started with the abuse of prescription painkillers.
Two years prior to our conversation, she hurt her back in a car accident. Her doctor prescribed a medication to relieve the almost unbearable pain. She thought she needed something more, so she forged prescriptions and finally resorted to buying heroin. This led to her arrest and incarceration. Her obsession with drugs caused her marriage to fail. Her husband divorced her and retained custody of the children. She told me that besides helping to dull her pain, the drugs also provided a short-term but heightened sense of euphoria and well-being. But each dosage of drugs lasted only a few hours, and with each use the duration of relief seemed to lessen. She began to take more and more of the drugs and got caught up in the vicious cycle of addiction. Drugs became her life. The night before I talked with her, she tried to commit suicide. She said she could no longer deal with the physical, emotional, and spiritual pain. She felt trapped with no way out—with no hope.

When Young Women in the Cedar Mill Stake (Portland, Oregon) hear a bell, it reminds them that they’re not alone—that Heavenly Father is always there, eager to help. Mia Maid Erin Bowman explained it like this:
“I like to think of life on earth as a big soccer tournament. We’re all players, and every time we score a goal or achieve something, we feel really good inside and know Heavenly Father and Jesus are rooting for us. Even when we miss a goal and fail to score, they are still cheering for us and telling us to try again. When we win the game and go on to another team, or another aspect of life, we always know that there are those who love us and are there supporting us.”

Sister Rita was baptized in August 2018 by her son, Brother Debdeep. She came to know about the Church from his son who became a member while staying in Texas. After investigating the Church for few weeks and learning about the gospel, Sister Rita was inspired to take the decision to be baptized. It is a joy to watch her grow strong in her testimony and her hunger to learn more about our Savior every day, something which President Nelson invited us to do in his counsel “Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.” (Russell M. Nelson, “Drawing the Power of Jesus Christ into Our Lives,” Apr. 2017 General Conference; Liahona, May 2017).

If anyone ever compiles a history of Christmas magic, one chapter will record that in Salt Lake City, each Christmastime, a forest grew overnight—no ordinary woods, but a forest of Christmas trees sparkling with ribbons and candy canes, apples and ornaments, dancing with ballerinas and bright-colored birds, Santas, elves, and gingerbread men, laughing with toy trains, planes, trucks, popcorn strings, and tiny perfect loaves of wheat-good bread. And somewhere in that chapter, probably near the end, the author will explain that the magic of this forest helped heal children in pain and gave hope where hope had been lost. And the last footnote will state humbly that the forest sometimes taught people how to love and give.
If this all sounds like a children’s story, it is in a way, but mostly it’s a people-story, because this forest is grown every year by people-magic, and most authorities agree that’s the strongest and sweetest magic of all.
The magic began in the heads of people all around the Salt Lake area. These people belonged to church and civic groups, businesses and families, and soon these people and these groups were busily making Christmas tree ornaments. They worked hard to make the ornaments as beautiful and artistic as they could, but above all, they tried to make them glow with the spirit of Christmas, because that is a powerful aid in working people-magic.
One day in early December all these people appeared at the Salt Palace, Salt Lake’s beautiful convention center, with their decorations and their trees, and as they carefully hung the ornaments on the trees, a Christmas forest was born.
Meanwhile, people all over the area were working magic of their own in ovens and on cutting boards where Christmas cakes, cookies, and pastries of all kinds were being conjured up by magicians of the kitchen amid flour and eggshells and the rich, spicy aromas of December. Gingerbread castles sprang up under their fingertips, and cookie trains rolled forth on delicious wheels. In basements and sewing rooms, wizards of workshop and sewing basket were putting the finishing touches on handcrafted gift items. All these sweet-smelling and straight-stitched miracles soon found their way to the Salt Palace where the forest was glimmering. The magic was at work.
Drawn by the enchantment, thousands of people came to the Salt Palace and wandered through the trees, oohing and aahing in a slow-moving river of wonderment. They gladly made contributions at the door and often purchased Christmas gifts and Christmas confections from the gift boutique and Sweete Shoppe. The whole splendid Yuletide crunch of people and trees and treats and laughter was called the Festival of Trees, and when the festival had ended, local businessmen and other generous men and women bought the decorated trees for prices often running into four figures.
And that was only the beginning of the magic, because the proceeds of the festival were given to the Primary Children’s Medical Center where they helped provide medical care that changed children’s lives for the better.
If anyone ever compiles that book of Christmas magic, the seminary students from Magna will be mentioned in it along with a lot of other good people. And last of all it will probably have a few words to say about the magic of the Primary Children’s Medical Center and of the children it helps. There is the magic of little Kirk who was told he would never walk, but walks. There is the magic of Lynn Ann who is courageously holding her own against leukemia. There is the magic of Joey who overcame crippling emotional problems to become a happy child. The work of the hospital staff is in keeping with the spirit of the Savior who was born in Bethlehem and brought to the world something better than magic. He too loved little children.

While I was serving in Venezuela, we taught a man who had investigated many churches but still had not found what he was looking for. He loved everything we taught him about the Church, but he did not feel he had received an answer through prayer. He began to have a lot of doubts. Then his doubts disappeared. He told us that he had been jogging in the park when he found a Liahona on an empty bench. He sat down and read it, and it answered his questions. He then was able to set a baptism date. Thank you for the Liahona!Elder Jordan Eves, Chile Viña del Mar Mission

Then, in words of soberness, he told me this story. When he was quite a young man, the Prince of Wales Colliery was the pride of the valley. Almost every family in the village had someone who worked there. But one spring day an explosion occurred deep underground, and a fire broke out in the passages where the coal was mined. Rescue teams tried to reach the trapped men, but each time the fire drove them back. So, in a desperate attempt to save the mine, the owners ordered the canal that ran close-by to be turned into the mine.

One hundred and eighty-four men and boys were trapped in the bowels of the earth. Those who were not burned by the explosion were drowned by the water that came pouring in. Hundreds of the villagers gathered around the mine, waiting to see if any were rescued. But as the hours passed, hope turned to despair. The rescue team that went down returned with saddened faces.

“No one,” they said, “could possibly have lived through those awful conditions.”

Still the villagers waited, for down below in the earth were their loved ones, and they did not wish to return home without them.

It was when the sun had touched the hilltop and the first shadows had settled on the village that it happened. Someone cried out, and a pair of hands could be seen climbing the cables that raised and lowered the cage. Eager hands assisted the man from those awful cables. The flesh was hanging in shreds from his hands, his clothing almost burned from his body. Tenderly they laid him down, and the doctor ministered to him as best he could. The man was near to death, but the courage that caused him to climb from the darkness of the mine to the day above would help him to live again. The man was Jimmy Drew.

The question on everyone’s lips was, “How could a man live through explosion, fire, and water and then climb those hundreds of feet on a steel cable and still live?”

That question was never answered, for God in his mercy had closed the mind of Jimmy Drew so that he would never tell of his terrible ordeal. I remember still how my father put his arm around me and pulled me close to him and together we shed tears.