Gospel Story Finder

Elder Bednar also commented on the story by Elder Fyans about the jewel box and the pearl that my wife just spoke about, “The physical structure and grounds of a temple are majestic and beautifully maintained. Indeed, the Church goes to great lengths to create a physical environment in and around a temple that appropriately invites the Spirit of the Lord. However, we should remember that the ordinances and covenants we receive in the house of the Lord are the pearl of great price. The attractive physical setting is the jewel box.”

In my work, I was privileged, along with wonderful design teams, to create the design of “the box,” which box was essential—as a house for the Most High to dwell therein, for the restoration of the fullness of the priesthood and the keys revealing the temple ordinances and things hid from the world. 2

In creating the visual experience both inside and outside the box, if we weren’t careful, we could have created meaningless visual clutter distracting one from the Spirit of the Lord. But our design teams tried to take this responsibility very seriously as we tried always to please our prophet. We recognized that temples represent the Lord’s House to the saints and to the world. With that said, beautiful architecture does not make a temple. But the exercise of the Keys of the Holy Priesthood by a prophet of God who dedicates a building for the sacred ordinances of God, make a temple.

I worked on one such temple in particular that outwardly “the box” is not as attractive as many I’ve worked on. It is the Kinshasa Temple in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I was a bit concerned what others might say about its simple design, but when I visited the temple upon completion, I prayed to have a feeling that it was still the Lord’s House. I was thrilled to have received that feeling. The faithful saints were so very grateful to have a temple of the Lord in their own land. It was a miracle.

In 1957, we were sealed in the Swiss Temple with our children. It was a wonderful experience for us—and a very important one. My husband was ill. After two difficult operations, we were told that he could not live.
Yet those last days of his life were, in spite of everything, almost happy. There were times when we felt pure joy at having been able to receive the gift of the gospel, times when we rejoiced with tears of gratitude that his coming death would not separate us forever.

Almost 11 years ago when President Spencer W. Kimball, President N. Eldon Tanner, and President Marion G. Romney held different Church positions than they do today, they played an important role in the establishment of the Unified Social Service system. This agency was created to place under one program and leader all of the related social services departments. Included were the Indian student placement program, adoptions, detained youth, prisoners, drug addicts, unwed mothers, and foster-care children, alcoholics, the emotionally distressed, and others. These areas of concern and interest are presently an important part of the Church’s total Welfare Services program.
When I was called at the outset to direct this department, I found it to be most challenging and stimulating. To work full time with those with social and emotional problems was a new era of personal service for me.
Besides his continuing extreme interest in the Indian student placement service, President Kimball, then a member of the Council of the Twelve, continually expressed his concern in our relationships with prisoners. He was anxious for us to do more in assisting them in their rehabilitation processes both while they were still confined in prison and also after their release. It was under his encouragement that the present, very successful family home evening program at the Utah State Prison was started. Regular Sunday worship services and week-time activities of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints continue beneficially in the institution today, thanks to his total endorsement and assistance. Similar programs have been made available to LDS and other inmates in prisons in the United States and in the world. Great amounts of good have been and continue to be accomplished in improved lives and conduct.
It seems to me that during the time I directed the prison program for the Church and later when I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve, which necessitated giving up my direct relationship with the department, President Kimball continually wanted to go to the prison with me to visit. Because some inmates at the prison are unpredictable, I always discouraged President Kimball from going there to visit. I was grateful that he always respected my judgment in regard to his safety and well-being and did not insist he go to the prison over my protest.
Early in March of this year, with the prison’s interdenominational chapel well under construction, the thought came to me that that was the right time to take President Kimball to the prison for his long-awaited visit. He could visit on the outside without undue concern over dangers within the prison walls. I asked him if he would like to go the morning of March 10 to see the new chapel, the wardens, and some inmates. He was delighted with the invitation and cleared his heavy schedule to make the 20-mile trip from the Church Administration Building. As we rode together in the car, President Kimball’s questions about prison facilities, the chapel, the guards, the wardens, and the general atmosphere at the institution were rapid and pointed.
After a short visit with the prison administrators, at President Kimball’s encouragement two prisoners were brought in for interview. They were moved by President Kimball’s warmth and friendliness. “Where is your home?” “What are your special jobs here?” “Are you working on the construction of the new chapel?” These were some of his questions—all of which were free of criticism or embarrassment. He let them and others know immediately he was there because he cares.
With this short visit over, we were to make our way to the chapel. When asked if he wanted to ride or walk the two-block distance, President Kimball responded with “I would like to walk.” With the wardens, the two prisoners, and a few others of us, we walked in the 10:00 A.M., 40-degree temperature into the minimum security facilities where the new chapel was being constructed. For security reasons, only the wardens knew of our visit plans, so when we arrived in the visiting area adjoining the chapel, the presence of President Kimball surprised not only the media, but Utah’s Governor Scott M. Matheson and Salt Lake City Mayor Ted Wilson as well as other committee members who had been invited there for a review of chapel construction progress.
The highlight of the inspection tour came after brief remarks by President Kimball which included, “This facility will help prisoners find their way back.” Two inmates were invited to stand at the side of the prophet for pictures. As he shook their hands warmly and later put his arms around them, he said, “It is an honor for me to have my picture taken with you.” They were obviously touched by the comment. Others of us again saw the greatness and stature of the one we loved so much. Respect and human dignity were witnessed. He is the foe of sin, but the friend of the sinner. The scripture found in Doctrine and Covenants 50:26 came forcefully to my mind: “He that is ordained of God and sent forth, the same is appointed to be the greatest, notwithstanding he is the least and the servant of all.” [D&C 50:26]
Impressive also was President Kimball’s public statement regarding the interdenominational chapel, which included, “The Church is happy to be a participant in any and all community projects that are worthy.”
One inmate rushed up to me as we were leaving and said, “I didn’t get a chance to shake President Kimball’s hand, but would you please tell him we love him?”
As we walked back to the car to return to Salt Lake City, this choice experience with the prophet brought to mind the writing of Parley P. Pratt when he and the Prophet Joseph Smith were in a prison together in Richmond, Missouri. The situation was much different, but the same witness of true dignity and majesty was enjoyed. I, too, saw true majesty when a prison visitor performed and spoke under God’s authority.
During the tour of the new chapel and the walk between the buildings, Warden Morris and Deputy Warden Shulsen were always nearby to assist and respond to President Kimball’s questions. After hearing President Kimball refer to me a number of times as “Marv,” Warden Shulsen was impressed to say, “Isn’t it kind of neat to have President Kimball call you ‘Marv?’” I responded with, “Yes, it is, and it is especially neat to know President Spencer W. Kimball is a prophet of God.” I had again seen him in action.
I am glad the time and conditions were right for President Kimball to visit two of his friends in prison, one a member and one a nonmember. As they stood with him for their picture to be taken, President Kimball had on one side a prisoner serving time for theft and burglary and on the other a man in prison for manslaughter. His greeting during the handshake, “It is an honor for me to have my picture taken with you,” rings in my ears. “I was in prison and ye came unto me.”

I’ve been an avid golfer for many years. Several years ago, walking the golf course became challenging. I continued playing golf, but I was forced to switch to riding a golf cart. As my challenges worsened, I decided it was time to visit the doctor. After a number of medical tests in 2017, I was ultimately diagnosed with primary progressive multiple sclerosis, an autoimmune disease that affects the brain and spinal cord.
Since that diagnosis, I have spent considerable time contemplating the miracles of the Savior, specifically His healing miracles. I have often thought, I need one of His miracles. I have faith, so why can’t I have a miracle to be healed of my disease?
By studying the Savior’s healing miracles, I have come to a greater understanding of and appreciation for one of them in particular.
I have thought about this experience a lot. Here this man is brought to the Savior to presumably be healed of his physical disease, and what does the Savior do first? He declares the man forgiven of his sins. He heals him spiritually. While we do not know what sins this man needed forgiveness from nor how much this man had been laboring over his sins versus his disease, I find it telling that the first healing the Savior performs on this man is to heal him spiritually.
As I have pondered this, I have received the following impression: I have already received one of Jesus Christ’s miracles—the healing miracle made possible by His Atonement. We all have a spiritual disease. We are all in need of spiritual healing. The Savior has performed the miracle of His Atonement for all of us so that we can repent and return to Heavenly Father’s presence. We just need to have the faith to receive the blessings He has already made available to us. This spiritual miracle is more important than any physical healing miracle ever could be.
I still want to be healed physically as well.
And I have come to realize that Heavenly Father and the Savior have taken care of that too. Because of the death and Resurrection of Christ, I know that I too will be resurrected and receive an eternal, perfected body. I will be healed of any disease that is currently afflicting me. While that miracle is set to happen at some point in the future and is something to look forward to, in my opinion it is no less a miracle than an instantaneous physical healing.

The excitement and anticipation were almost unbearable as I and 77 other American students boarded our flight to Frankfurt. We were on our way to spend a month in Nuremberg, West Germany. We would be attending a German high school (Gymnasium) and traveling within Germany. Most exciting of all was knowing that 78 German families, as nervous and excited as we were, anxiously awaited our arrival. I wished desperately that the New York to Frankfurt flight could be made in less than eight hours!
With my hand luggage held high to avoid any collisions, I made my way to the back of the plane, where I found my seat on the next to the last row. I quickly stowed my bags into the overhead compartment and plopped into my seat with a sigh. I found myself sitting next to a delightful lady from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, who had moved from Germany 18 years previous. She was going to Munich to visit family. We conversed partly in German, partly in English, until our dinner was served.
As we ate, I asked her what Germans usually drink at mealtime.
“Beer or wine,” was her immediate response.
“Oh,” I said. “I don’t drink alcohol.”
“You’ll learn to, once you’re there,” she said with a chuckle.
“But, it’s against my religion,” I replied.
“Are you Mormon?”
“Yes, I am. Do you know any Mormons?” I queried, hoping to start a discussion.
“Well, some young men came to our house one time.”
“Missionaries?” I asked.
“They wore white shirts and dark suits.”
“Yes, missionaries,” I assured her.
“They were very kind,” she said.
“What do you know about them?”
“Well, they pay their own way, and they cannot have girl friends. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I replied.
Soon she was asking questions, and I was thoroughly absorbed in answering them. Our dinner plates were taken away, the lights were dimmed, and a movie projected onto the screen. Neither of us seemed to mind that we were missing it, and we continued our conversation in earnest.
Very quickly, it seemed, we were discussing tithing, eternal marriage, ordinances for the dead, the Word of Wisdom, and other gospel principles. She did not question anything I told her. She simply nodded. When I had finished one subject, she asked a question about another.
Her questions inevitably led to the Book of Mormon. I found myself telling her about the Nephites and the Lamanites and explaining with pride about the important role Moroni played concerning the Book of Mormon. All this led into the Joseph Smith story. I felt so warm inside, knowing that I was sharing truth with her.
After an hour or more I had finished answering her questions, and she didn’t seem to have another one just then. I sat back for a moment and felt overwhelmed with what had just happened to me. I silently thanked my Father in Heaven for letting me be in that seat at that time and especially for helping me know what to say.
Not wanting to simply end things where they were, I offered a copy of the Book of Mormon, feeling sure she would accept. But she didn’t. She said simply “No, thank you.” It took a second for her reply to sink in, but when it did, I was crushed. However, she continued, “I have a very hard time reading English and would not be able to understand most of it.”
Excitedly, I reached into my bag and pulled out a blue book, which I handed to her. “Das Buch Mormon” it read. “Here it is in German,” I said, trying not to sound as triumphant as I felt. Obviously very surprised, she thanked me and leafed through it. “Oh, and here’s a special promise to readers,” I exclaimed, pointing out Moroni 10:3–5.
After a few minutes’ silence she said, “I’ll read a little bit of it and then give it back to you before the flight is over.”
“Oh, but it’s for you to keep,” I quickly stated. “I have my own.” Her eyes shining, she thanked me and began to read. Not long after that, she gave me her address so I could have the missionaries sent to her.
With a prayer of gratitude, I opened my journal and began to write down the experience I could hardly believe had happened. Before I realized it, the flight was over. As I said good-bye to my friend, she thanked me again.
When I returned from Germany, I sent her address to the Pennsylvania Pittsburgh Mission. I haven’t heard if she has joined the Church, but I feel confident that someday she will.

I recognized the beauty of music and the total satisfaction that comes from sharing it with others. When I played in church, I felt an inner fulfillment come to me as a performer and to my friends as an audience. I experienced satisfaction each time people would thank me for touching their hearts with my music.
Just as I was realizing my musical potential, I was asked to teach the three-year-olds in church. I discovered how much happiness comes when a small hand takes mine and two big blue eyes look up to me and say, “Thanks, Michelle, for being my special friend.” Serving the Lord through working with his little children helped me understand the real meaning of the scripture, “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God” (Luke 18:16).

I know how unnerving it can be to be asked to do something that seems far beyond your capacity. I had been a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles for only 19 months when President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) passed away. In the first meeting of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles following the ordination of President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), he gave specific assignments to the Twelve. His instructions to me included these words: “Elder Nelson, you are to open the countries of Eastern Europe for the preaching of the gospel.”
That was 1985. During the politically frigid years we refer to as the Cold War, not only did a literal wall divide the city of Berlin, but all of Eastern Europe was under the oppressive yoke of communism as well. Churches were closed, and religious worship was strictly limited.
I had spent much of my professional life opening hearts to perform life-saving operations, but I had no experience that would lead me to believe I could open countries for the preaching of the gospel. And yet, a prophet had given me an assignment, so I set out to do what seemed utterly impossible.
From the outset, obstacles were placed in my way. I arrived in most countries not knowing where to go. Even when I was able to find the name of an appropriate government official, it was not unusual for a meeting to be canceled at the last minute or to be postponed. In one country, when an appointment was delayed for two days, a number of temptations were intentionally placed in my way to test me—including traps for black market money and other illicit activities. On another occasion, a meeting was opened with the demand that I depart immediately!
But the Lord is able to do His own work (see 2 Nephi 27:20–21), and I was privileged to watch the unfolding of one miracle after another—always, and only, after I had brought my best thinking, my most courageous efforts, and my most fervent prayers to the task.
Recognition of the Church was granted by some of those countries before the Berlin Wall came down. Recognition from others came later. In 1992, I was able to report to President Benson that the Church was then established in every country in Eastern Europe!

The tree had been young when Olivia Tucker McCoy joined the Church. In her diary she wrote: “We were baptized Oct. 3, 1897. My husband’s father had given him the place he settled on with the understanding that he would help him work and pay for that place and the one his father bought, but as it was his father’s he never got the deed. So, after we joined the Mormons his father told him he would have to move.”
Their little daughter had been burned in a fire in December, and they asked for time before moving the child but were ordered out. On January 3, 1898, “We put her in the wagon on a bed, moved to what they called the Coates place, and rented the same from Jim Smyly.
“The Christmas of 1898 I spent with my sister, a Mrs. Guinn, the one I lived with when I was married. But the folks didn’t seem just the same. You see, I had joined the Mormons and I was reminded of it.”

The account of a homecoming as related by successful prison warden Kenyon J. Scudder brings to the surface tender feelings held in the heart:
A friend of his happened to be sitting in a railroad coach next to a young man who was obviously depressed. Finally the young man revealed that he was a paroled convict returning from a distant prison. His imprisonment had brought shame to his family, and they had neither visited him nor written often. He hoped, however, that this was only because they were too poor to travel and too uneducated to write. He hoped, despite the evidence, that they had forgiven him.
To make it easy for them, however, he had written to them asking that they put up a signal for him when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If his family had forgiven him, they were to put up a white ribbon in the big apple tree which stood near the tracks. If they didn’t want him to return, they were to do nothing, and he would remain on the train as it traveled onward.
As the train neared his hometown, the suspense became so great that he couldn’t bear to look out of his window. He exclaimed, “In just five minutes the engineer will sound the whistle indicating our approach to the long bend which opens into the valley I know as home. Will you watch for the apple tree at the side of the track?” His companion said he would; they exchanged places. The minutes seemed like hours, but then there came the shrill sound of the train whistle. The young man asked, “Can you see the tree? Is there a white ribbon?”
Came the reply, “I see the tree. I see not one white ribbon, but many. There is a white ribbon on every branch. Son, someone surely does love you.”
In that instant, all the bitterness that had poisoned a life was dispelled. “I felt as if I had witnessed a miracle,” the other man said. Indeed, he had witnessed a miracle. (See John Kord Lagemann, “Forgiveness: The Saving Grace,” The Reader’s Digest, Mar. 1961, pp. 41–42.)

Some years ago I created a stake on one of the islands in Japan. As usual, we held many interviews with the leaders to become acquainted with them. One of the men had moved to that area from Tokyo to take care of his aged and ailing father and his father’s business, which was in difficulty because of the father’s ill health. After the father died, the son went to his father’s creditors and acknowledged his father’s debts. He requested time from those creditors so that he could assume and pay all of his father’s outstanding obligations. In our interview I asked him how he was managing to meet this responsibility. He answered that he was getting along quite well and that he would be able to handle his father’s debts. The Lord saw fit to honor him with a call to be one of the leaders of that stake.

Another story of a different kind of courage is told of Ruth Campkin Randall, a tiny mother who had spent enough time on the frontier to become accustomed to its risks. As a safeguard from marauding enemies around Pine, Arizona, where she lived, a stockade was built. When an Indian or other raid was reported, all the residents were to get into this enclosure for protection. This occurred frequently enough that Ruth got tired of it. Finally, when a call came for all to go to the fort, Ruth said, “No, I have been dragged from pillar to post and from the post to hell, and I am not going to the fort. I’m staying right here.”11 Others soon decided she was right; there was no longer any point in running to the fort every time some Indians were headed in their direction.

Illustration by Gabriele Cracolici
I met Natalie on the first day of sixth grade. I noticed that she wouldn’t hang out on Sundays and that she carried her scriptures around at school. One day I was at a carnival with Natalie, and I said, “I want to join your Church.” I’m not sure what Natalie was thinking at the time, because it came out of nowhere. But from that point on she began sharing more of her faith with me.
Later that year, I went with Natalie to a youth conference. One of the last activities at the youth conference was a testimony meeting. Natalie shared a special testimony that motivated me to want to learn more.
As I studied the gospel, I prayed to Heavenly Father to gain a testimony. Soon, I knew what I had been learning was true. That summer, I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Later, a friend asked me what baptism is. I shared with her things I love about the gospel of Jesus Christ and the happiness I’ve found in the Savior. My friend loves soccer, so I worked with my class presidency to plan a soccer activity to invite her to. And Natalie and I studied the Book of Mormon with her through FaceTime.
“As you strive to love your friends in the way the Savior does, you’re inviting them to come to Him.”
At first, helping my friend felt like a big responsibility—saying the right things so she understood or inviting her to the right activities. But I realized it’s not about converting but rather loving. If you have good intentions and righteous desires, then anything you do to participate in Heavenly Father’s work is going to be considered a success. As you strive to love your friends in the way the Savior does, you’re inviting them to come to Him.
When I switched to a new school in sixth grade, a girl named Hannah ate lunch with me and introduced me to new friends. But I never realized that, at the same time, I was helping introduce her to principles of the gospel.
One day Hannah and I were at a carnival together. Out of the blue, she told me she wanted to join the Church. To say I was surprised is an understatement. My first thought was, “I’m not sure if she knows how big of a commitment it is.”
I wasn’t sure what to do, but my parents said, “She’s interested in the gospel. You should invite her to ward camp.” I thought it might be overwhelming for Hannah to spend the entire week with us and meet so many new people. But I took their advice and invited her to camp and to youth conference.
During a testimony meeting at youth conference, I felt like Hannah needed to hear my testimony, even though public speaking is one of my biggest fears. Hannah knew I was afraid, and she admired the fact that I was willing to share because I believed in the gospel.
I’m an overthinker, so whenever I considered inviting Hannah to things, I thought, “She’s going to think I’m pressuring her into joining the Church.” But I knew this was an irrational fear. People like to be invited to things. As time went on, I was more comfortable with sharing how I felt. I learned that sharing the gospel is about love.
“Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony.”
There’s so much joy in sharing the things you love and cherish the most. Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony. I saw the difference that the Savior made for Hannah, and it helped me recognize the difference He makes for me.
The authors are from Hawaii, USA.
Since writing this article, both Natalie and Hannah decided to serve missions! Natalie recently received a call to serve in the Texas San Antonio Mission, and Hannah began her service in the California San Jose Mission.

There was an architect in that first company, William Weeks, who had designed the Nauvoo Temple. But the hopeless desolation was too much for him. When President Young went east in 1848, Brother Weeks left, saying, “They will never build the temple without me.”

Truman O. Angell, a carpenter, was appointed to replace him. He said: “If the President and my brethren feel to sustain a poor worm of the dust like me to be Architect of the Church, let me … serve them and not disgrace myself. … May the Lord help me so to do.”

From his earliest days of singing “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission,” Jared Cassity planned on serving as a full-time missionary. He had read the scriptures and was familiar with all the missionary discussions. Most importantly, he was worthy and desired to go on a mission.

But he couldn’t go. Jared’s mental disabilities and some physical problems meant he could not serve a proselyting mission. “It took courage for me to accept that,” he says.

That was more than three years ago. Now, Elder Jared Cassity—that’s right, Elder—has been serving for three years. Elder Cassity was called on a stake mission. He is an assistant in the North Ogden Utah Stake’s missionary preparation class, helping other young men who are planning to go on missions become more prepared. “It took a lot of praying, but I know this is the right thing for me to be doing,” he says.

Elder Cassity shares his responsibilities in the class with Elder Paul Hansen, who has also been serving for three years. Elder Hansen also has mental and physical disabilities, but he manages to make it to class to set up chairs and distribute hymnbooks long before anyone else gets there. His mom, Janeen, says, “He felt really bad, because he’s always wanted to go on a mission, but it wasn’t right, and this was right.” Alma Harris, who teaches the class, says that as the time approached for Elders Cassity and Hansen to be released from their two-year missions, they wanted to remain in their callings, and he still needed their help.

Elders Hansen and Cassity have various responsibilities each week in the class, including bringing refreshments, setting up chairs, and giving an occasional talk. But their most important duty is preparing their stake’s future missionaries.

“I love the change that comes upon these wonderful boys when they serve missions,” Elder Cassity says, nearly crying. “I love seeing what the Spirit can do. … Sometimes I cry when I hear their wonderful testimonies, because I feel like I was one who helped that person.”

Ten cents is for capital. Put it somewhere where you cannot access it or use it. This could be for 10, 15, or more years. When I think of these ten cents, I am reminded of my mother. She would sift through very good ground nuts and maize and put some aside for seeds. She would fumigate them—or so we were made to believe, so that we would not be tempted to roast that maize and eat those groundnuts when we were hungry. Mother never used the seeds, even in dire situations. She would rather have us go without than to eat those seeds. They were to be planted in the following rainy season and have them multiply. She would do the same in each harvest. She was never dependent on government handouts.7

The first one I want to talk about is prayer. Prayer can be very rote, and very cold even, if you will. As long as you and I do not have a very good understanding of that relationship, You and I do not pray brothers and sisters to do the lord a favor. We don’t pray to check-in with him or to check it off a checklist. When you and I pray, then it is a child reaching out to hi, or her father. We talk, we speak, we take time, we take time beyond the morning prayer. We take time beyond the evening prayer. I learned that in the military. I had to serve in the German army for a year and a half before serving a mission. You know, that was not easy. It wasn’t easy to maintain gospel standards in the military and in basic training, you can appreciate that. But I learned in that time, during the military, when I was alone and I was able to just be by myself a little bit, or I was out in the field, or driving somewhere. That I could pray and I could talk to my Father in Heaven. And I’ve never lost that habit, I’ve never lost that desire to talk to my Father way beyond the usual morning prayers and the evening prayers. So this is an invitation, that I’m extending to all of you, especially the young people.

More than 130 members from the Czech and Slovak Republics along with former Czech and Slovak missionaries gathered in Zilina, Slovak Republic, on September 8, 2012, to provide service to the city—clearing 1.5 tons (1.3 tonnes) of waste from the banks of the Zilina reservoir, improving the city’s kindergarten and nursery building, and weeding city planters.
“It is wonderful to see the volunteers working hard and see the smiles on their faces and joy in their eyes!” commented volunteer Hana Snajdarova, whose family was among the early converts to the Church in Slovakia. “I think that that is why we enjoy these projects so much. We want to help—to serve—and we love it.”

Before filming at the Mount of Beatitudes, the choir boarded two boats at Tiberias and crossed the Sea of Galilee. About halfway across the sea, which can give rise to sudden storms as it did the night Christ calmed the waters, the boats stopped, a prayer was offered, and the choir and others sang “Master, the Tempest Is Raging.”
“I really felt the Spirit when we stopped out on the Sea of Galilee,” says one choir member. “I’ve really never felt it that strongly before.”

But on Sunday, 11 September 1983, at about three o’clock in the morning, I had a dream. I dreamed that I saw a native American woman with long braids streaked with gray. She was stirring something in a cooking pot. In my dream, I was in her home. Stretched animal skins formed the walls and roof, and poles of clean natural wood supported the walls, which were lashed together with leather strips. The home was small in circumference, but the roof was high enough for me to stand comfortably.
The woman spoke with me, and we talked for some time. I felt comfortable being with her and felt her warm hospitality. I don’t remember what was said, but she told me her name over and over again—Nanah-ku-chi. Another woman was with her, holding a child about two or three years old, with black shoulder-length hair. Their clothing, simple in design, appeared to be made from animal skins, cleaned and softened.
Three times the Spirit prompted me to get up and write, until I finally climbed out of bed and found paper and a pencil. I then sat at the dining-room table and wrote the words that came into my mind.
The Spirit made known to me that, if I were faithful, I would be led to find my ancestors’ names, and that Nanah-ku-chi, one of the women I had seen in the dream, was my ancestor. I seemed to hear in my mind, “Now is the time to labor for thy dead.”
I felt prompted to go to Philadelphia, Mississippi, where I would be given the names of those whose temple work needed to be done. “Be faithful, and it shall come unto thee line upon line,” the Spirit seemed to say. I have always believed in personal revelation, but this experience carried with it a force far beyond what I had expected.

In our day-to-day actions, it is often the small and simple things that will have a long-lasting impact (see Alma 37:6–7). What we say, how we act, and how we choose to react will influence not only ourselves but also those around us. We can build up, or we can tear down. A simple and positive example is a story told about my grandmother. She sent one of her young children to buy some eggs. The trusted child was probably joyfully walking home along the road, but most of the eggs were broken when the child arrived home. A friend of the family was there and admonished my grandmother to scold the child for behaving so badly. Instead, Grandmother calmly and wisely said, “No, that will not make the eggs whole again. We will simply use what we can and make some pancakes that we can enjoy together.”