Gospel Story Finder

My elderly neighbor and her son lived a few apartment doors down from my family. She became dear to us. After her son passed away, she became ill and was confined to her bed. We took care of her until she passed away three months later.
After their deaths, I wanted temple ordinances performed for this family. But because we were not related, that was not an option. One day a clear thought came to my mind: “Prove that you are related, and you can do the temple work for them.”1 I thought the Lord was asking the impossible, but the word prove kept coming to my mind.
My neighbor’s relatives began transferring ownership of her apartment, but they lacked records to prove their relationship, even after we searched government archives.
The Spirit told me we were missing something. With consent from these relatives, I looked through her apartment for documents. In a corner of the apartment I found some bags full of old papers. I had a feeling the bags were important.
I looked through two bags and then began looking through a third. I had almost reached the bottom of the bag when I felt the cover of a notebook. Inside the notebook’s cover pocket, I found five important certificates: my neighbor woman’s birth certificate, her mother’s death and marriage certificates, her grandmother’s death certificate, and her father’s burial certificate.
When our neighbor’s relatives and I reviewed the documents, two words stood out to me: “Vagaysky District,” in western Siberia. Suddenly, I felt that I should look at my own family tree. When I did, I found that Vagaysky appeared on the distant branches of my father’s family tree. Further research showed that my deceased neighbor and I are related!
The Lord did not require the impossible from me after all. I cannot express my joy to learn that my neighbor is part of my family. This link will allow me to make sure her temple ordinances are performed in the future.
The Lord loves His children. He prepared the plan of salvation for all, including my neighbor and her son.

Romaine, 17, and his teammates on the top A-1 basketball team from the church college are well known nationally in New Zealand. The school had won the national schoolboy basketball championship five years in a row—until last year. Romaine doesn’t like to talk about it, but that year the team came in third. They had the painful experience of having to come back to school and explain the loss. They didn’t want to go through that again. The team was determined to regain the top spot. And they did.

The A-1 boys’ and the girls’ basketball teams both took first in the national basketball tournaments held last August.

“Playing in the tournaments,” says Romaine, “we really stood out because we were Mormons. Other teams used to think we were funny because we didn’t use foul language, but still we could make them laugh.” Because they are known as the team to beat, other teams are always up for their games against church college. “Everyone has their best games against us.”

I will never forget the day I decided to go on a mission. My mother and I were the first in our family to join the Church. The missionaries came to our home and taught us many great things that we didn’t know before: about the Lord’s true Church, prophets, the priesthood, and how it was restored again after a great apostasy. Their teachings and invitation to come and see how the Church was organized made us feel the Spirit as we had never felt before. Eventually my mother and I decided to join the Church.
We were so happy, every Sunday attending sacrament meeting and seeing the love the members of the Church showed us. My mom and I waited for my father who was working in Dubai to come and be baptized, and my brother was studying in Vijayawada where there is no Church. Fortunately, a home group was started in Vijayawada and missionaries from Rajahmundry went there and taught him. I baptized him. The day came that my father arrived from his work the missionaries met him, taught him, and invited him to be baptized, but he had an issue with the Word of Wisdom. Finally, he overcame it with the help of the missionaries and he also joined the Church. My brother baptized him. Now all four members in our family have joined the Church and have seen many miracles in our lives.
I was baptized when I was 18 years old and I never thought about serving a mission. Missionaries and members of the Church use to ask me about it whenever we met. I used to say, “I will think about it, let me finish my studies.” I finished my studies. The members continued to ask, “When are you going to serve a mission?” I would answer, “Let me make some money then I will think about it.” Every time, I used to give excuses for not serving a mission.
One day I sat on the rooftop, thinking about what I should do, wondering why God had given me challenges. Just one thought came into my mind: “Go on a mission.” A few days later I watched general conference with lots of questions. The main one was about my mission. I was waiting for the answers, when I heard President Dieter F. Uchtdorf say, “Those who love and serve God and fellowmen and humbly and actively participate in His work will see wondrous things happen in their lives and in the lives of those they love”1. I felt very strongly that it was the perfect answer from Him that I needed. The next moment I spoke to my mom. She did not want me to serve a mission. She had said many times, “I can’t live two years without you.” That day I thought she might say no, but she said, “I am happy to send you on a mission.”
I submitted my papers and waited for my call letter for almost one year. Meanwhile I went on exchanges with missionaries and learned a lot from them. This preparation helped me to gain a strong testimony to never give up on my mission and taught me how important it is to serve the Lord. Eventually the wait was over. The call letter came. When I opened it and saw that I was called to serve in the India New Delhi Mission, I was shocked. I read the letter again and saw at the bottom, “your purpose will be to invite others to come unto Christ.” I felt joy and happiness. I was prepared to leave my home, family, and friends.
There is no other place I would rather be than in the India New Delhi Mission where I have come to know who I am and why God sent me here. Because of Jesus Christ, I have the power to deal with the burdens, obstacles, and temptations. He had delivered me from physical and spiritual danger. The mission field is like a washing machine where we, like a dirty cloth, can be put in it, to be twisted, spun and knocked around and come out brighter, cleaner and better than before.
The Lord demands our whole soul on the sacrificial altar. That is the price we must pay, and when we do, we become instruments in his hands. We are all answerable to Him in this life, and in the next, we will be held accountable when we are called before Him to make our report. When that time comes, I will stand before Him to give an account of my stewardship. I pray that I may be able to do so without embarrassment, apology, or excuse. I am not perfect, I do have my weaknesses, but I can say that I have tried to do what the Lord would have me do as his servant disciple.

One day three years ago, when I was 87, I was at a social event. A woman was there playing the piano; she played about like I do. When I asked her name, I found out it was Alice Bodily, my bishop’s mother. She was 90 years old at that time.
I asked my bishop if he thought his mother would like to play duets. He asked her, and she said she would love to. So three years ago we started playing piano duets every Wednesday morning for one hour for our own enjoyment.
We progressed from easy children’s duets to a couple of duets I used to play with my mother. But what we loved the most was playing duets of the sacred hymns of the Church. Our two favorites are “Joseph Smith’s First Prayer” (Hymns, no. 26) and “Love at Home” (Hymns, no. 294).
By playing every Wednesday and practicing in between, we got fairly good and impressed our children with a little concert. My bishop said he would like to have us play in sacrament meeting, so we learned “The Spirit of God” (Hymns, no. 2). That was a real challenge for us, but we worked on it for several months and surprised ourselves and our children and probably our ward members too. Before the COVID-19 hit, we played this hymn in five of our children’s wards.
There are many beautiful hymns that we now love to perform, such as “Come, Follow Me” (Hymns, no. 116), “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” (not in the current hymnbook but easy to find), and “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249). Sometimes finding a duet arrangement may mean asking for help, but a family member, ministering sister, or ward music leader is usually happy to assist.
We even found a collection of Christmas songs and prepared a 40-minute program to present at an assisted-living facility in December. Another musician joined us and played a xylophone and a set of bells to add variety to our performance.
Through our music, at our ages of 90 and 93, we feel that we are bringing “Joy to the World” (Hymns, no. 201) not only at Christmas but also all year long. We have been playing together regularly now for three years. Choosing to play duets together was clearly a key decision for both of us!

One summer at Aspen Grove Family Camp, I observed a mother patiently feeding a teenage daughter injured at birth and totally dependent upon Mother. Mother administered each spoonful of food, each swallow of water, while holding steady the head and neck of her daughter. Silently I thought to myself, For 17 years, Mother has provided this service and all others to her daughter, never thinking of her own comfort, her own pleasure, her own food. May God bless such mothers, such fathers, such children. And He will.

Years ago, when I was only six, I became acquainted with my cousin, a six-year-old girl named Roxane. Some time before I saw Roxane, I was informed that I was getting a new sister. It was she. We were adopting my own cousin for reasons unknown to me at that time.
The first month of our sisterly relationship was quite peaceful. I suppose all new things take a little getting used to. I shared a room with my little sister Deanna and my new sister Roxane. Things were different for Deanna and me, as we had to get used to sharing a bedroom with another person. This created hassles over such issues as who got which bed and who got the most closet space.
In a short time I developed a rage of jealousy towards my new sister. She had fit nicely between Deanna and me; and as the saying goes, “two was company, three’s a crowd.” Constant arguments arose, and sides were being taken. Hardly a day went by that the three of us didn’t get into some kind of argument. And I can recall that most of my arguments were with my new sister.
Not only did I forever argue with her, but I condemned her for coming to live with my family, especially when she started to call our mother, “mom” instead of “auntie.”
Many times I would go out of my way to make sure she did not use anything of mine. If she did, it meant immediate war. Any time she would do something I thought challenging, I would instantly prove that I could do what she was doing and do it even better. For years I diminished her self-image with rude remarks and strained to outdo her at everything.
About four years ago I started to wonder why I had such feelings towards Roxane. My only conclusion was that I was jealous of the attention she had taken from me when she came to live with us. At that time I also realized the damage I had done to Roxane’s self-confidence and pride. I felt so ashamed and am still ashamed of the actions of my younger years. Never once did I put myself in her shoes and try to experience what I was making her go through. What pain she must have suffered. What a feeling of not belonging I must have given her. It would have been difficult enough for her to come live in a house of strangers without having me on her back. Now the problem was how to let her know that I loved her and was so sorry.
Roxane, Deanna, and I were all at girls’ camp that year. It was the night for testimony meeting, a beautiful night, and the Spirit of the Lord was so strong that almost every girl was in tears. Wanting to bear my testimony but being the type of person to break down crying at the first word, I bravely stood and started to speak. I bore my testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, of the love I have for the Lord, and of the growth I had received during the week at camp. At this point I had shed many tears and was ready to sit and try to settle down a bit. But suddenly I felt an urge to express my love for my sisters. It felt awkward saying “I love you,” since I had never said those words to them before. But it felt so good. It was as if I had unloaded a barrel of bricks that I had been carrying around for so long. I felt free from a burden that had been there for many years. Satisfied, I sat down. Moments after I sat down I felt two arms around my neck and heard a familiar voice say, “I love you.” Seconds later I felt two more arms around my neck and heard another familiar voice say, “I love you.” It was beautiful. I was full of love for both of them and was so thankful I was inspired to express my love for them that special night.
Now, 11 years after I first set eyes on my cousin, I am eternally grateful to my Heavenly Father for giving me another sister. Roxane has helped me to grow and understand so many things. We are now both 17 years old and are the best of friends. Today we went to a softball game and cheered for all the guys. Yesterday we went to the movies and spilled popcorn all over the people in front of us. Tonight we will go to the dance. And where there was once a crowd, there is now a circle of love.

I met Mark when I came home from college for a visit. He was a young officer in the United States military, tall and handsome, just starting an exciting career. We liked each other immediately and spent as much time together as possible. It seemed we were made for each other. He visited me at college, and by the time I returned home for the summer vacation I knew I had to make a decision about my future.
After a few dates Mark had asked me to seriously consider not returning to college in the fall so that we could spend more time together. I had worked and saved through high school so that I could have a college education, and I just couldn’t give up my dreams of college so soon.
No matter how fervently I prayed about marriage and a future with Mark, I never felt peaceful with that decision. I thought it through many times and came up with many reasons why we could have a wonderful a life together. I had always wanted to travel and knew I would love living abroad in interesting foreign lands with him in the military.
One special evening, after a romantic dinner, we decided to drive around a lovely little lake. We drove slowly as if we might save the magic of the moment. We stopped not far from my home and spoke quietly and seriously about our future and how much we cared for each other.
At that moment it would have been easy to go too far with my affections, and he with his. Who would know? I had always been morally clean and thought I would never be vulnerable in that way. I was caught off guard by how easily physical desire became so strong.
Then pictures flooded my mind. I could clearly see my Beehive teacher, my grandmothers, and my parents. My thoughts were filled with their words and what they had taught me about being chaste. I could feel their love as strongly as if they were there with me. Time seemed to stop. I was facing temptation in its most deceiving disguise—temptation masquerading as young love. Clearly it was a choice between right and wrong, and I knew I wanted to be clean and pure. I was surprised at how easily that moment passed once the decision was made. I realized that real love respects purity. Temptation respects nothing.
The rest of the evening turned from romance to a clear-headed discussion of what our futures were to be. I was more certain than before that Heavenly Father had different plans for us. I don’t remember exactly what we said, only that we probably weren’t really meant for each other after all. I went home, told my parents it was over, but was at peace with the decision. We saw each other only a few times after that evening, and our paths soon went separate directions. I returned to college, and he went on with his life. We had no contact after that summer.
Returning to school, I moved back into regular college life, dating a few great guys, eventually meeting a fine man. He had a sense of humor and a strong testimony, and we had common goals. It was then that I received strong, positive confirmation he was the right person for me to marry. What had seemed so important the summer before faded. Mark just became just one of the guys I had known.
Years passed, and with a husband and several children, I was a busy mother trying to build an eternal family, working in the Church. One day I found some free time and slipped away to attend the temple. In that holy place, I noticed a temple worker who looked vaguely familiar. Only as I passed did I realize it was my old boyfriend Mark. There, in the Lord’s house, I felt no remorse or regrets. I didn’t have to turn away in shame because of things we had done. Instead I smiled and nodded.
In the celestial room I gave quiet thanks for guidance from Church leaders, parents, and Mutual teachers who had taught the principle of chastity. In the most sacred place on earth, the holy temple, I was filled with gratitude for sure and true commandments, which kept me safe and clean. Once I was young and inexperienced, but I had the best guides in all eternity, our Savior’s teachings and the Holy Ghost, to direct me to the right path. He knew what was right for me.
In the years since then, I have had a good, happy life, and I am sure Mark has had the same. I heard that he left the military, served a mission, and was later called to be a bishop. Ours are separate lives, free and clear, with only good memories. I am just one girl he dated; he is one guy I dated—and that is all.

To illustrate how to use this tool, I am going to tell you about a situation where I used it in a non-business setting. When my son was in third grade, I believe, I was asked to coach his community league basketball team because they had a few more boys than they expected and needed one more coach for these boys. These were not the boys who were fought over by the other coaches. They were the ones who for one reason or another signed up late and needed a coach. I called a practice and had the boys just shoot around for the first five or 10 minutes so I could see what I had to work with.

As I watched, I became a little concerned. They made almost no shots, they weren't even being guarded, and I could see that they weren't very tall. They couldn't dribble the ball very well either. All I could see was weaknesses. I thought, "This is going to be a long season." I wondered why I ever agreed to coach this team. But I had agreed to coach them, so I tried hard to look for strengths. Eventually I noticed a few of the boys were quite quick, which was about the only strength I could find.

At this point, I had a long list of weaknesses and only one strength, so mentally I turned to the opportunities and threats part of the tool. I had to go on my knowledge of and assumptions about the other teams. I was sure many of the other boys could shoot much better (a threat) and had to be taller (another threat), but I was also sure that at that age, they couldn't dribble the ball too well. There was my opportunity. We could capitalize on their inability to handle the ball. I decided to match our quickness strength with the lack of ball handling ability of the other teams to come up with a strategy. In practice, we focused almost entirely on stealing the ball, dribbling it down the court, and making layups. The zone defense we used was one designed to steal the ball, but it wasn't very good if the other team got the ball into the middle to the "big" players.

We worked on other areas of the game minimally but mostly focused those three things--stealing the ball, dribbling, and making layups. As it turned out, our boys did quite well. When the other team passed half court, our boys went into "attack mode." More often than not, they stole the ball, dribbled down court, and missed their layup. But sometimes they made it. This little team of vertically challenged boys who couldn't shoot too well won all their games but one. They took what they had, matched it with attractive opportunities, and made the best of their basketball season.

Faneva looked out the window at the busy street outside his house. He could see people pulling carts of vegetables, rice, cloth, and other goods to sell. He could hear car horns honking and dogs barking. Then he heard another sound.
“Mama, someone is knocking!” Faneva called out. Mama opened the door. Two young men wearing suits and ties were on the doorstep. Faneva had never seen anyone dressed like that in his neighborhood in Madagascar before.
“We are missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” one of them said. “We teach people about Jesus. Can we share a message with you?”
Faneva was excited when Mama invited them inside. The whole family gathered to hear about Jesus Christ and how His Church was on earth again.
After that day, the missionaries visited Faneva’s family many times. They brought a book called Book of Mormon Stories. Faneva loved reading it with his family!
Someday I will be a missionary and share the Book of Mormon with others, Faneva said to himself.
Another time when the missionaries came, they taught Faneva’s family how to pray. Faneva learned that he could talk to Heavenly Father anytime, anywhere.
Someday I will be a missionary and teach people about prayer, Faneva thought.
One day the missionaries had an important question.
“Will you follow the example of Jesus Christ and be baptized?” one of them asked.
Faneva felt happy in his heart. “Yes!” he said.
“Yes!” his brother and Mama said.
Papa said that he wasn’t ready to be baptized yet. But he was OK if the rest of the family was baptized. And so they were! Faneva was baptized by one of the missionaries who had taught him about Jesus.
Someday I will be a missionary and help people get baptized, Faneva thought.
One of the best parts of being a member of the Church was going to Primary. Faneva loved the activities and meeting new friends. But his favorite thing of all was singing Primary songs. One Sunday in Primary, they were singing songs about sharing the gospel.
“I want to be a missionary now,” Faneva sang. “I don’t want to wait until I’m grown.”
I can start doing missionary work now, Faneva realized. I don’t have to wait until someday!
From then on, Faneva looked for ways he could share the gospel. He tried to be a good example. He invited people to church. He helped his neighbors. After a few years, he was old enough to help the missionaries teach people in his city. In a few more years, he served a mission himself—meeting new people and sharing the gospel, just as the missionaries had shared with him.

I remember getting ready for bed one Sunday night years ago. I was exhausted and discouraged. The kids were all very young. My husband, Boyd, was busy with work and was serving as a bishop here on campus. He was gone most of the week and each Sunday from early in the morning until it was time for dinner—if we were lucky. I took the children to church each week in the Harris Fine Arts Center. Sacrament meetings were so quiet! I spent the entire time trying to keep the children busy and occupied so that they didn’t disrupt the spirit of the entire meeting. Needless to say, I didn’t get much out of the talks. We then hurried home so that we could go to our home ward for Primary.

I tried to make Sunday a special day—one in which my children felt the Spirit and we learned the gospel together—the kind of Sabbath I had heard women I greatly admired speak about. But I felt that I spent most of my Sabbath breaking up fights, cleaning up messes, working in the kitchen, entertaining children, and watching the clock for when Boyd would finally make it home. Sunday was anything but a day of rest and spiritual renewal.

I was so happy that Boyd was having the opportunities that were coming to him, and I knew our family was being blessed, but I couldn’t help feeling that while he was growing spiritually, I was backsliding—and doing so quickly. I felt I was just barely going through the motions and not getting any results.

As I fell into bed, I remembered that I had not read my scriptures, and, frankly, I didn’t feel like doing so. I was tired and feeling a little sorry for myself. But I felt guilty, so I sat up and opened up my scriptures and told myself that reading just one verse would be fine and would fill the requirement of reading my scriptures that day. The Lord blessed me that night. I opened my scriptures to a verse that has become one of my very favorites—Doctrine and Covenants 64:33:

Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.

I will never forget the peace and light I felt as I read that verse. The Spirit filled me, and my heart was softened. The Spirit whispered to me that the “great work” the Lord spoke about could be my life; it could be my family—if I continued doing the small things. And, in the end, it would make a big difference—even if I did feel weary at times.

The small children in my charge—and my small decisions—were my great work. At that time they were my chance at developing and ­helping others develop a more divine character.

Three years ago, I received a calling to be a Community Connections Coordinator in our stake. My purpose was to coordinate resources for any in the stake and community who had humanitarian needs. The resources were items such as household goods, furniture, walkers and wheelchairs, food, clothing, shoes, toys and any donated items for the needy. This involved seeking out, collecting and storing multitudes of these items and having them available when needs arose. I had a committee of about 20 people. One of our humanitarian activities is a Winter Clothing drive. Members of our Stake and others would voluntarily donate approximately 1,000 coats along with shoes, winter boots, scarves, beanies, hats, and gloves in preparation for the Saturday Drive. On that day, these items were displayed in our stake cultural hall and the community would come and shop for whatever they needed, free of charge. Many volunteers assisted in the setup and takedown. We managed to have several other drives or activities during the year such as: Easter Egg Hunt, Food Drive, Bicycle Giveaway, Household Goods Exchange, Thanksgiving Meals, Toy Exchange and our biggest event was in September, the “Share the Harvest Fair.” This calling became my second full-time job! Even though it required a lot of planning and coordinating, I absolutely loved it and enjoyed every minute of it!

About a year or so after serving in that calling, our stake president called me and Todd into his office and asked if I would serve in another stake calling which involved missionary work. I immediately felt overwhelmed and for the first time in my life, I did not accept but asked if I could think about it. That evening as I drove to an appointment by our home, I distinctly remember that crisp and clear feeling of these words penetrate my heart and mind saying, “Why are you thinking about your new calling? I will help you. I always help you!!” Once again, the guidance of the Comforter helped me to do the right thing. I immediately called my stake president and accepted the calling.

May I tell you of the hour of my true conversion to the Lord Jesus Christ and his restored gospel. Perhaps my experience will strengthen those who desire a closer relationship with our Father in Heaven and a more profound testimony of the truthfulness of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Some years ago while traveling to a mission in Germany, I found myself, in stormy November, aboard a ship sailing from New York to Bremerhaven. The ocean boiled with turmoil. We were all seasick. All we could eat were soda crackers and Zwieback. I was almost afraid I was not going to die!
As the days passed it dawned on me: “I’m really going on a mission.” Do I truly have a testimony? Am I prepared to bear it “at all times and … in all places”? (Mosiah 18:9).
I thought I had a testimony, but now the real trial of my faith was coming. I was going to a foreign land where the only words I could speak in German were Volkswagen and auf Wiedersehen.
During the voyage I realized my testimony was not a spiritual fire of conviction, particularly of the Book of Mormon. And so I knelt down on the cold steel floor of that rocking ship and begged the Lord with my tears. I prayed, “Dear Father, I have got to know that the Book of Mormon is true. I have read it, I think I understand it, but I desire the fire which helps a man know that the Book of Mormon is thy word. Please, Father, help me.”
Somewhere out on the lonely Atlantic, during those turbulent days, a sweet spirit and peace came to me—“the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philip. 4:7). I received a witness that the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and that supernal event became my hour of conversion.
If you question whether you have a testimony of the restored gospel, I encourage you to read, ponder, and study the Book of Mormon. Why the Book of Mormon? Because this holy scripture is the great testifier and converter. This ancient record is a spiritual compass for us to follow. Joseph Smith said, “The Book of Mormon was … the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book” (History of the Church, 4:461). When you come to know that this testament of Christ is true, you will know that Joseph Smith is the prophet of the Restoration and that Ezra Taft Benson is the Lord’s prophet today. The Book of Mormon was written for our day to convince us “that Jesus is the Christ” (Book of Mormon title page). If your soul is searching for a more profound testimony of Jesus Christ and his restored kingdom, I suggest, in conjunction with studying the Book of Mormon, there are four steps you can take which will lead you to your hour of conversion.
These four steps are (1) Desire, (2) Works, (3) Prayer, and (4) Trust in the Lord. Let me briefly explain.
First, Desire: Oliver Cowdery desired a more firm witness of the plates which contained the Book of Mormon record. The Lord said to Oliver: “If you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter?” (D&C 6:22–23). The Lord told Oliver that, first of all, a person needs to have desire.
Alma said, “Even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you” (Alma 32:27).
Second, Works: Oliver Cowdery took a positive action. He moved himself from thinking to doing. In my case, while on board that ship, I had more intimately studied and pondered the Book of Mormon. Young Joseph reflected on the Bible, then went into the woods to pray. Moses climbed Mount Sinai. My Great-grandmother Nelson boarded a ship in Denmark, with a flock of little children, to join the Mormons in Utah. Righteous works yield a divine harvest. The Lord said, “He who doeth the works of righteousness shall receive his reward, even peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come” (D&C 59:23).
Third, Prayer: “Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed” (Hymns, 1985, no. 145).
As we sincerely pray to the Lord and rely upon his divine whisperings, that still, small voice will come to us (see Hel. 5:30). We will receive a peace, knowing that God has answered our prayers. Remember the peace that Oliver received. These spiritual embers can grow into a flame of testimony (see Hel. 5:45).
Alma, upon meeting the four sons of Mosiah, who had been on a fourteen-year mission, rejoiced at their knowledge of the truth. He said, “They had searched the scriptures diligently, [and] they had given themselves to much prayer, and fasting; [and] they taught with power and authority of God” (Alma 17:2–3).
“Ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ,” counseled Moroni, “if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, … he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moro. 10:4).
Surely the Lord would not ask us to pray if he did not intend to answer our prayers. “He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him” (Heb. 11:6).
Fourth, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Prov. 3:5). We can trust the Lord. He is our truest Friend. He always keeps his word. “Dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith,” admonished Ether (Ether 12:6).
May I ask you to extend your trust in the Lord. Take the Book of Mormon into your hands. As you read it, ask yourself, Could any man write this? Then ask the Lord, Is this thy word?
A word of caution: Satan wants to stop you. He will try to distract, deceive, and weaken your desire, your righteous works, your sincere prayers, and your trust in the Lord. Do not be afraid. We have already overcome the evil one at another time and place. We are told that in the great premortal war, “[we] overcame [Lucifer] by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of [our] testimony” (Rev. 12:11). We had a valiant testimony in our premortal state, and we can resist Satan and awaken that testimony again today.
The Book of Mormon is our testimonial Liahona (see Alma 37:45). This voice from the dust guides us to know that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, and that his Church has been restored.
If you have even a small desire for a greater witness, please do the works of righteousness, trust in the Lord, pray and anxiously explore the Book of Mormon. I testify that it is the word of God. This iron rod marks the path that will guide your soul to your hour of conversion. I rejoice with you in that glorious event. In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”

Ten years ago this October, while speaking in the priesthood meeting of general conference, I shared the following experience. One day
my son Ben came to me and said, “Dad, we are going to hold our family reunion this summer at Flaming Gorge recreation area” (a distance of 220 miles east of Salt Lake City). “Why don’t you, myself, and any of the boys in our family that would like to leave a few days early, ride our bikes to Flaming Gorge, and meet the rest of the family there?”
I said, “That sounds great, but we only have one motorcycle!”
Ben said, “No, Dad, you [don’t understand.] I mean pedal bicycles.” I thought he was kidding. He said, “I will outline and prepare a training schedule for us. We’ll get up early Saturday mornings and for three hours we’ll go out and ride over the courses I will outline, so that when the time comes we will be prepared to go.”
I said, “Okay,” not really knowing what I was in for. I didn’t own a bicycle and knew I would have to use my daughter’s old, heavy, ten-speed bicycle with what seemed like bent wheels and a seat that was terribly hard. I also knew that getting up early on Saturday mornings was not one of my favorite things. But knowing that some of my sons wanted me to go with them, I said, “Okay.”
As the time for training and preparation came, I found all kinds of excuses [not to] go on the training rides. However, one Saturday I rode with them to the top of Parleys Canyon and back. It was hard, but I thought I would be okay. Little did I know!
The time for the trip came. I joined my boys the second day of the trip, as I had meetings the first day. The journey that second day took us from Heber City to Roosevelt (approximately one hundred miles).
As we checked into the motel that evening, I called my wife at home and told her I had never hurt so bad in my life. Every muscle, bone, and fiber in my body hurt from my head to my feet. I implored her, “When you come tomorrow with the rest of the family, please bring all the ointment and lotion you can find.”
She said, “Honey, you sound terrible.”
I told her, “I look and feel worse than I sound.”
The next day I hated to see the dawn come, knowing what it would be like to sit on that hard seat and pedal all day once again [in order] to reach our destination—especially the stretch from Vernal to Flaming Gorge, which would include approximately thirty-six-plus miles with grades up to 9 percent and ninety-degree-plus temperatures. Needless to say, for me the whole trip was a very trying and arduous task. But for my sons, who spent a lot of time waiting at the top of the hills for their slow, unprepared dad, it was exciting, fun, and rewarding.
That evening as we arrived at our destination, I came to an easy, yet profound recognition of how poorly prepared I was for what should have been a great experience with my sons, but was not because I did not take the time to properly prepare. I resolved that night that I would never again be that unprepared. I went home and bought bicycles for myself and my two youngest sons, and started training and preparing so that by the time the next summer came, my sons and I could ride our bikes to Lake Powell, a distance of three hundred miles, which we did. The next year we cycled to St. George, and every year thereafter, we rode our bikes to Lake Powell until our mission [assignment some years later].

Brother Hatch’s daughter, Keilani, had wanted to go to the temple with her dad for as long as she can remember. She prepared and planned, and when she turned 12 last year, she eagerly set her alarm. Then she realized how tired she was. “We went early in the morning and I was really grumpy when I got there, but the temple workers brought my spirits up,” she remembers. “Then, when it was time for my dad to confirm me on behalf of someone else, I could feel the Spirit so strongly. I realized why I was there, and I just felt happy.”
She says going to the temple helps her stay true to her standards because she wants to be worthy to go back. She remembers a time when those standards were tested by some of her friends, who wanted her to help them cheat on an exam. “I wasn’t allowed to help, but I was alone in the room with my friends, and they were begging me to,” she explains. “It’s really hard to tell your friends no, but it was easier because I had gone to the temple that day. I made a choice to put God first in my life.”

When I practiced law one of my partners was Marion G. Romney's son. His grand father George Samuel Romney was once president of this university. Marion G. was then in the First Presidency of the Church. One day my friend and I spoke of deeply spiritual things. We wondered, as perhaps some of you have, how many people in the history of the world had seen the Savior. I remember saying that if anyone on earth at the time had, it would most likely be President Romney.
I said to my partner, "Have you ever asked him?" "No. Not really," he replied. I said, "Why don't you? You are his son. He will surely tell you." He thought a moment and said, "All right, I will. We have a family home evening scheduled with dad next Sunday night. If the opportunity presents itself I'll ask him."
I could scarcely wait for the week to end. The following Monday, early in the morning, I stood in the doorway of his office and said, "Well?" "Well what?" he asked. "Well. Did you ask him?" I said. "Come in and close the door," he replied. I went in and sat down.He laughed and said, "Yes. I did ask him. And do you know what he said to me--his own son?" "Tell me," I said. "Well, when I asked him if he had ever seen the Savior my father just looked at me and said, 'Not to speak of son. Not to speak of.'"

There’s a home for unwed mothers and abused children in the Fairfield California Stake, and the young women in the Vacaville Third Ward wanted to help out.
They took several activity nights to make stuffed bears. They also made sugar cookies to take to the home and let the children decorate. The main message they tried to convey was “You are a child of God,” and the smiles on the children’s faces told them they understood.

Mom wasn’t surprised at all, and she told me a story: “When you were a tiny baby and round all over, your daddy brought you this blanket. He held you and the blanket in one arm and said, ‘Blanket, blanket,’ lots of times. You said, ‘Ginky.’ Dad smiled and said, ‘Blanket.’ Both of you were talking about the same thing.”
I had to laugh at that.
“Pretty soon,” Mom went on, “we all got used to calling your blanket Ginky, the way you did. ‘Here’s Ginky,’ your daddy or I would say, or ‘Won’t you let us wash Ginky just once, real quick?’ But you never wanted Ginky to be washed.”
“I didn’t want Ginky swooshing around in all that soap,” I told her.
Now Ginky smells kind of stuffy and dusty from being in the drawer so long. Ginky used to be soft. I remember stroking my cheek with Ginky and wrapping it around my arm (the one with the good-tasting thumb) before I went to sleep.
At first Ginky had a satin edging that I could curl around my fingers. I could make a scratchy noise on it, too, with my fingernail. But the satin is almost all worn off now.
Lots of babies have blankets. But there isn’t another Ginky.
You know, I took Ginky to bed with me last night—just for remembering. I didn’t really need to. I tried wrapping Ginky around my arm. I tried scratching the worn-out satin. I even tried sucking my thumb.
But my thumb just doesn’t taste good anymore. After a while, I got all tangled up in Ginky. I wanted to go to sleep, so I folded Ginky carefully beside me. “Good night,” I said.
This morning Ginky was still there, looking kind of raggedy on my pillow. I packed Ginky away in my special box. Mom says that when I’m a big person, we’ll open my box and look at all the things I saved as I was growing up.
My picture album and my doll without any hair and a drawing I made of a fire engine were in my box already. I think Ginky belongs there with those other things.

This 74-year-old sister is joy personified. Having been a member for 30 years, she remembers Decembers in a very special way. She recounts: “On Christmas Eve, we make a dinner within our means. I take care of the soup, my daughter, Arlene, makes the salad, and so on. We invite the neighbors, who also bring food. We set up tables and chairs in my daughter’s garden and sit together for dinner. It is very comforting to share how little or how much you have with others.
She recalls: “My husband was in a car accident, he lost a leg, his spinal cord was damaged, and he was unable to walk again. From his wheelchair, he prepared the ham for Christmas dinner and put it in the oven. He was a very independent man and loved helping others. He was president of the Curaçao Branch for eight years, and many fondly remember his service in the church. Despite his own difficulties, he tried to focus on how to help others with their personal challenges. He passed away in 2006.”
This sister is well known in the Curaçao branch for her delicious soups. There is not an activity that Sister Eugenia attends that she does not bring soup. It is her way of contributing, and she feels very happy to see others enjoy what she makes.
These two beautiful sisters have strong testimonies of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Through Him, they have been able to overcome trials, feel comfort, and comfort others in their pain. They are examples that, no matter how young or old you are, if you want to help, however small that help is, it makes a difference and means a lot to the Lord.

“Can we come in?” Lori asked.
Emily looked over the top of the fort she had built with Lisa. Their little sister Lori and brother Greg were back, and they wanted to come in. Again.
“No,” Emily said.
“Please?” Greg asked.
“No,” Lisa repeated.
Emily and Lisa had spent an hour building their fort out of cushions and sheets and cardboard boxes. It was perfect. They had built it next to the Ping-Pong table, and to get in you had to crawl through a tunnel under the table. It was tall enough to stand up in, but there wasn’t enough room for little brothers and sisters.
“You already have your own fort,” Emily said.
“OK,” Lori sighed. “Let’s go.” Greg followed her back to their fort. It was just a blanket draped over a chair. It didn’t have a tunnel or anything.
“They’re gone!” Lisa said. “Now we can play.” She opened their box of paper dolls. Emily cut out a dress she had drawn. They set up the rest of their game—the castle, the servants’ quarters, the wicked prince.
They played for a while, but it wasn’t as fun as usual.
“I’m bored,” Lisa said, setting down her paper doll.
“And I don’t want to be the prince anymore,” Emily said. “Maybe we need more people to play. Maybe Lori and Greg could help.”
“No,” Lisa said. “They’ll just ruin the clothes, and they won’t play the games we want them to.”
“Yeah. I guess I’m done playing this game. Let’s do something else.”
“Let’s build a tree fort!” Lisa said.
Outside, Emily and Lisa dragged boards over to the giant cherry tree. They made a platform they could sit on in the middle of the tree. It was perfect. They could reach ripe cherries right where they sat!
Soon they heard the back door open. Here came Lori and Greg. Their eyes got big when they saw the fort.
“Can we come up?” Lori asked.
“Can we have some cherries?” Greg asked.
“No,” Emily said. “Get your own cherries.”
Lisa looked at Emily, then nodded. “Go play in your own fort.”
“But our fort’s no fun!” Lori wailed. “It’s no fun without you!” Lori ran back to the house, and Greg followed.
Lisa was quiet after they left. She ate another cherry. “Maybe we should have let them come up,” she said.
Emily nodded. “We weren’t very nice,” she said quietly.
“What do you think we should do?”
“I have an idea …” Emily said.
Soon Lisa and Emily sneaked back to their old fort, where Lori and Greg were playing. They left a note outside the tunnel door, knocked, then ran outside. Lori read the note out loud: “We’re sorry we were so mean. We want to play with you too. Love, Lisa and Emily.”
“They want to play with us!” Greg shouted. He pushed open the tunnel door and raced outside. Lori followed. This time Lisa and Emily let them climb up. They all crowded onto the small platform and ate cherries.
“We were thinking we should build a town,” Emily said. “I’ll run the store and be the seamstress.”
“I’ll write the newspaper,” Lisa said, “and Greg can be the postman. And the mayor.”
“What will I be?” Lori asked.
“You can run the store with me,” Emily said.
They all climbed down and ran back to the playroom. Lisa and Lori cut out cardboard coins while Emily and Greg took down the giant fort. They would need the cushions and boxes to build the post office and the grocery store and their houses. And later, maybe even a zoo.