Gospel Story Finder

In 1952, Elder Benson was astonished to receive a telephone call informing him that U.S. President-elect Dwight D. Eisenhower, a man he had never met, wanted to talk to him about becoming U.S. Secretary of Agriculture. Farm leaders had recommended Ezra Taft Benson as the best man for the job. With Church President David O. McKay’s blessing and President Eisenhower’s assurance that he need never endorse a policy that he did not agree with, Elder Benson became Secretary Benson. The Benson family returned to Washington, D.C., for the eight years of the Eisenhower administration.

In that period, controversy was raging about how to stabilize supply and demand in an uncertain farm economy, and Ezra Taft Benson’s face appeared on the covers of national magazines as he dealt with the problem. He spoke forthrightly, without regard for how popular his opinion might be. Speaking to farmers and politicians, he dared to suggest that the solutions to economic and political problems are based on spiritual and moral principles, without which no nation can have prosperity or peace. In Washington, Elder Benson instigated the practice of opening Cabinet meetings with prayer, and the Bensons presented a family home evening program to the Eisenhowers.

Actually, for Elder Benson, the time in Washington was not really an interruption in his service to God. He was a patriot who found in the Book of Mormon answers for his country’s needs. He loved the choice land where the gospel had been restored, he revered its Constitution, and he took very seriously his responsibility to help preserve it. Twenty years later, one of the choicest assignments of President Benson’s life was to review the St. George Temple records showing ordinances performed there for the founding fathers of the United States.

You may remember the sweet experience shared by President Romney, who had been reading the Book of Mormon with his son. He related: “I remember reading it with one of my lads when he was very young. … We were each reading aloud alternate paragraphs of those last three marvelous chapters of Second Nephi. I heard his voice breaking and thought he had a cold, but we went on to the end of the three chapters. As we finished he said to me, ‘Daddy, do you ever cry when you read the Book of Mormon?’

“‘Yes, son,’ I answered. ‘Sometimes the spirit of the Lord so witnesses to my soul that the Book of Mormon is true that I do cry.’

“‘Well,’ he said, ‘that is what happened to me tonight.’” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1949, p. 41.)

I remember one day there came into my business place a man and he said, “You know, I’ve got to have a hundred dollars. I’ll give you ten dollars for the use of a hundred dollars for one week.” And I thought, “Have you gone crazy? What’s the matter? Ten dollars on one hundred dollars would be ten percent for a year, it would be about 500 percent for a week. What are you thinking about? Have you lost your reason? Why don’t you plan? Why don’t you anticipate your needs and then provide for them?”

When I was in the bank I found a little extra time and needed a little extra money, and I kept books for some of the stores in town, especially one little department store. And one of the shocking things of my life was to find on the books the accounts of many of the people in the community that I knew. I knew them. I knew approximately what their income was, and then I saw them wear it away. In other words, I saw they were buying their clothes, their shoes, everything they had “on time.”

And I found that it was my duty to make the bills at the end of the month for them. And many of them couldn’t pay at the end of the month. They couldn’t pay even the installments that were arranged for them. And having been reared in a home that took care of its funds, I couldn’t understand it. I could understand how a person could buy a home on time or perhaps could even buy an automobile on time. But I never could quite understand how anybody would wear clothes they didn’t own. Or eat food that they had to buy “on time.” I had a good deal to do with the merchants in the town and found that their books were cluttered with accounts for food, for cheese, for bread, for milk, for other things.

One day I remember I met in the grocery store some old friends of mine, and this woman had just paid eighty dollars for a small supply of food that she was carrying out of the grocery store. And I came in and bought one or two small things, and she said to me, “How can you do it? How can you do it?” And I said, “Well, I have a wife who is careful and she doesn’t waste anything. She doesn’t throw anything away. She just makes it over, uses it again. And we buy only what we need. And instead of buying the prepared things we can buy as many potatoes probably for a dollar that it would take many, many dollars to put into chips and in other preparations.”

I have heard my mother-in-law, who was a very careful cook in her home, say many times, “That woman throws more waste from the kitchen than I would use in a month.” And I have seen that in many homes. And so I think that we need to be very, very careful.

I agree with all that Brother Ashton has said this day with regard to the financing of the family in the home. Every family should have a budget. Why, we wouldn’t think of going one day without a budget in this Church or in our businesses. We have to know approximately what we may receive and we certainly must know what we are going to spend. And one of the successes of the Church would have to be that the Brethren watch these things very carefully, and we do not spend that which we do not have.

I remember a case in my life a few years ago. I was in my office on the second floor. A young man came in. He was bedraggled, he looked pretty bad. His clothes were hanging loose, and I was afraid he was going to jump out my window. He was desperate. He told me he had just lost his wife. She had left him and taken his two sons with her. She did not leave anything to pay the numerous bills that they had. And life looked pretty desperate. He had even gone to drinking a little bit.

I finally said to him, “Well, now, I am going to help you if you would like me to. I will get you a job. It won’t be a very good job. It won’t be maybe the thing you have been used to doing. It won’t bring in the amount of money you have been used to spending, but if you need a job I will get you one and I will help you with the problems that come to you.” I got him a job at the hospital for eighty dollars a month.

“Oh,” he said, “I can’t live on that.”

And I said, “eighty dollars will be better than what you are getting now.” He agreed and finally he went to work. It was temporary, but it took care of the situation.

And I said to him, “Now, why don’t you, Bill, take your car and put it on blocks and walk to work because that will be good for your health as well as you will finally get caught up on your indebtedness. Why don’t you go to the music store and tell them you will pay out the cornet for your boy at two dollars a month and go to this other store and pay this much on your gas, you will pay this much on something else.”

He said, “Oh, they would laugh at me. They wouldn’t take that.”

And I said, “You try them.”

And when he came back after the first week, he said, “Well, they surprised me. Those people said, ‘That’s wonderful, I appreciate what you are paying. We will assist you.’”

And so when he came back the first week, he gave me a list of the things that he had been spending for, and I said, “What is this newspaper here? Costs ten cents a day, doesn’t it? That is seventy cents a week. You pay that on your obligations instead of buying the paper. There are several of them at the hospital. You can read them. And what is this shoe shine every day.”

“Oh,” he said, “I have to have my shoes shined.”

And I said, “Yes, you do, but you can shine your own shoes. Why don’t you use a few cents and get a can of polish and shine your own shoes?”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” he said. “I never have done it. My father didn’t do it.”

But here and there we finally got him to be willing to do this. And it was only a matter of a few months until he had a better job, paying twice as much with prospects of even doubling, and doubling again. And he was getting along fine. He had a little cheap room, he had a little hot plate. He cooked his own egg every morning, and he ate bread and milk at night, and he ate at the hospital at noon for free. And it was amazing how quickly he was out of debt, though it had run into thousands of dollars.

Anthon stepped from his doorway onto the cobbled street, hesitated, and turned back to his wife—“the best in the land” he called her.
“Are you coming, Ibine?”
His wife stepped out of the doorway. She was wrapped in woolen scarves and a heavy coat. The February night was icy cold. Their destination was the seashore, a few blocks from their home. The children followed Ibine out the door. Thorvald and Astra were too young to be baptized but not too young to be excited for their parents. Only Anthon didn’t feel excited. He was quiet and pensive while walking along the clean-swept streets of Aalborg, Denmark.
As he passed his little garden, now covered with the white of winter, he remembered the first time he had met the missionaries almost two years ago. It was in the summer of 1893. They had come by and talked with him as he stood bent over, pruning bushes.
“Those missionaries planted a sweet seed in my heart that day. It all seemed sensible,” he remembered. As he walked slowly along he remembered other things, too. “The next day the minister came, and I told him what the missionaries had told me. He tore every word to pieces, and he filled me with his talk again. The next time the elders came, I told them what the minister told me. They taught me the gospel again and planted the seed again. It soon became obvious that I had to know for myself.”
The night was very dark. The children cuddled close to their parents. The hand of tiny Thorvald squeezed his father’s and pretty little Astra clung to Ibine. Anthon looked down at Thor and remembered his own childhood. He remembered the cows he had herded, the wooden shoes he had worn in winter, his own sister who died in a terrible blizzard too far from home to get help. He remembered the worried look of his father who couldn’t support his family of nine during the mid-1800s war with Germany. He remembered working from 2:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night on a farm in order to help. He remembered crying in bed at night. “I wondered what I was sent on this earth for. I couldn’t see what good I was doing. All I could see ahead was endless work to no real worthwhile end.”
The frigid cold gripped Anton’s face, and he wondered if the children or Ibine were uncomfortable. The chilling breeze made him think of glacier ice, and he remembered learning that ice-age glaciers had left his Denmark an undulating flatland well suited to farming and agriculture. He was grateful that at least a few years of formal education were mandatory—that his country believed in the virtues of learning and working. He saw ships’ masts in the harbor poking above the fields.
He and his family were nearing the place where they would be baptized. A sick feeling of loneliness hit him in his stomach. “My homeland, my forefathers, all that has been good to me—am I giving up their trust in me for a far-fetched religion sprouted in a distant; new country?”
Then he and his little family turned the corner of the last block. They could see the ice-covered water clearly. Anthon felt the whitened wool next to his skin. He had been ordered to wear it constantly since his illness. His illness! Yes, he remembered the birth of his testimony. He had been healed after 12 months of life and death struggle with pneumonia. The elders had said that with faith and a special blessing called administration he could be healed. He had submitted to their counsel and believed. Shortly after, Anthon had resolutely cleared away the dark clouds that had been gathering around his search for truth. He told the ministers of the other churches that he could not serve two masters. (See Matt. 6:24.) They had been good neighborhood friends, but with his decision to join the Mormons, that friendship ended—the ministers gave him up as a lost soul.
Every member of the Mormon church who lived in Aalborg was there on the seashore, some holding lanterns. It was a small but cheery group. They sang hymns and smiled. But Anthon was still quiet. He looked into the faces of his beautiful children and wondered if he was doing what was right for them. He knew he would have to find a private school for them because the prejudice in the public schools against the few Mormon children was too much for such young children to bear.
The singing was over. A prayer was given to open the meeting. The missionaries asked a blessing on Brother and Sister Jensen that as they were baptized they would not fall ill from the freezing temperatures. A hole was chopped in the ice. The sacred ordinance was performed for both Anthon and his wife, Ibine. The two new members were welcomed with hugs and handshakes and sent quickly home to their warm fireplace. It was then that Anthon noticed something special—something unexpected. On their way home he found himself walking, almost skipping, with lightened step—his wife and children smiling at him all the way. The heavy burdens of worry had been lifted. He knew he had done the right thing, and above all he knew now that there was something important for him to do in life.
“I went to my former friend and minister the next day to bear him my testimony. I was so happy that I felt I could convert the whole world, and I wanted to,” he later recorded. “I wanted everyone to feel the peace and the joy that came from my baptism. And the most wonderful thing of all, I had an assurance that greater joys and greater knowledge were yet in store—not only for me but for my beautiful family.”

Before I was old enough to date, my parents discussed the rules for dating and the expectations they had for me. Based on those expectations, we have a tradition in our family that the first date be a double date arranged by an older sibling. When I turned 16, my older sister and her future husband arranged a perfect double date for me.
Our first destination was to grab strawberry ice-cream cones. Then we headed to a beach, had dinner, and walked around. We went to the fun alley for some air hockey and games. At a playground, we ate yummy birthday cake. What a great first date!
By following my parents’ rules, I have been able to enjoy each stage in life. I have experienced group dating, then single dating, and now the blessing of a temple marriage.

Third, the Master Healer can comfort and sustain us as we experience painful “realities of mortality,”13 such as disaster, mental illness, disease, chronic pain, and death. I have recently become acquainted with a remarkable young woman named Josie who suffers from bipolar disorder. Here is just a little of her journey toward healing as she shared it with me:
“The worst of the darkness occurs on what my family and I have deemed ‘floor days.’ It begins with sensory overload and acute sensitivity and resistance to any type of sound, touch, or light. It is the apex of mental anguish. There is one day in particular that I will never forget.
“It was early in the journey, making the experience especially frightening. I can remember sobbing, tears racing down my face as I gasped for air. But even such intense suffering paled in comparison to the pain that followed as I observed panic overwhelm my mother, so desperate to help me.
“With my broken mind came her broken heart. But little did we know that despite the deepening darkness, we were just moments away from experiencing a mighty miracle.
“As a long hour continued, my mom whispered over and over and over again, ‘I would do anything to take this from you.’
“Meanwhile, the darkness intensified, and when I was convinced I could take no more, just then something marvelous occurred.
“A transcendent and wonderful power suddenly overtook my body. Then, with a ‘strength beyond my own,’14 I declared to my mom with great conviction seven life-changing words in response to her repeated desire to bear my pain. I said, ‘You don’t have to; Someone already has.’”
From the dark abyss of debilitating mental illness, Josie summoned the strength to testify of Jesus Christ and of His Atonement.
She was not healed completely that day, but she received the light of hope in a time of intense darkness. And today, supported by a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and refreshed daily by the Savior’s living water, Josie continues on her journey toward healing and exercises unshakable faith in the Master Healer. She helps others along the way. And she says, “When the darkness feels unremitting, I rely on the memory of His tender mercies. They serve as a guiding light as I navigate through hard times.”15

Somewhat related to this law are three minor laws I learned about when I was required to begin military service midway through law school. When I arrived in Vietnam on August 15, 1969, I was assigned to the army’s First Infantry Division. Because it was too dangerous to travel on the ground, I was told to get in a helicopter.

The helicopter was what they called a Huey. A Huey had eight campstool-like canvas seats for passengers like myself. Four of the seats faced forward, and two on each side faced out to the sides. These Hueys had a machine gun mounted on each side. The side doors, like doors on a van, were pulled all the way back so the machine gunners could operate their guns if needed.

I took my place on one of the side seats, facing out to the side with a completely clear and open view because the side door had been pulled all the way back. I took my seat with my M-16 automatic rifle in one hand and my steel helmet in the other arm, looking forward to my first ride in a Huey helicopter. In a great roar of its engine and the rush of wind from its rotor blades, the chopper lifted off, rising straight in the air for about 200 feet. Then, as it prepared to turn in the direction of where it was taking me, it leaned over, or banked steeply, to my side, so that I was looking almost straight down out of my open door.

At that moment I realized (1) that I had forgotten to fasten my seat belt and (2) that both my hands were full of important things that I did not want to drop out of the helicopter: my rifle and my helmet. Then realization number three happened. I started to slide out of my seat and drop out of the turning helicopter.

What happened next? Just before I fell from the helicopter, my feet discovered that each of these little seats had two little, straight, aluminum legs. My left foot found one of these, and I wrapped my boot tightly around it just as I was about to fall, and I managed to hold on until the helicopter straightened out. You will probably not be surprised to learn that I now always fasten my seat belt when I drive.

And it was on this occasion that I learned some new things about the law of unintended consequences, about Murphy’s Law (if anything can go wrong, it will), and about the law of gravity.

I’m grateful for the gift given to me of ears to hear. One of my great-grandfathers, John Bennion, walked or rode his horse from over Jordan to this place to hear his name called out to go on a mission to Dixie. His journal doesn’t say much, except just that the next day he prepared to go, and he went. His assignment was to be a sheepherder. In his journal there is a record of an evening in which he met with Erastus Snow. He said another man was in the room; his name was Henry Eyring. And somewhere in St. George that night was Bishop Miles Romney. They talked about sheep. And you might have thought they were talking about something temporal. But not to those men, because they knew they were God’s sheep, and they knew they were for God’s people. And they knew how to listen, and they knew how to do what they heard.
John Bennion went on another mission to Wales and back again to this valley. Henry Eyring went on to Colonia Juarez, as Miles Romney did. And they left for me a tradition which I deeply appreciate. They were the yeomen of the Church, the soldiers of the Church, and my great-grandfathers. You can’t find in their journals records of the positions they held, just of the instructions they heard, and knew were from God, and followed. I’m grateful to my parents who handed me that heritage undiminished. I’m grateful to my wife, who more than once has heard when I did not and gently said, “Would you pray about it?” If my sons and daughters will listen to her, and hear through her what God has in mind for them, we will pass the heritage on again.

Illustration by Alyssa Gonzalez
When I was in high school, I was chosen to participate in a fashion show for an annual school event. I knew that the coordinator would choose dresses that were not modest, so I told her that I would not participate if the dress I had to wear was immodest. She said that would be all right.
When my friends and I went to check out our dresses, I was confused. Despite what the coordinator had told me, all the dresses were the opposite of the dress and appearance standards in the For the Strength of Youth booklet. Because it seemed like there was no solution, I tried on one of the immodest dresses. I wanted to look pretty, but when I wore that dress, I didn’t feel like myself. I wondered, “How would I feel in the Lord’s presence in this kind of dress?”
I thought about how I could get out of this situation. Finally, I found my older sister’s prom dress, which did meet the Lord’s standards. When I told my friends that I would use my own dress, I could tell from their facial expressions that they thought I would look better in the immodest dress. Fortunately, the coordinator said it was OK to wear the modest one.
I was relieved, and I felt confident. I didn’t care what my friends thought. I found a way to participate with a gorgeous and modest dress. I was grateful that I had the courage to keep my standards high, especially when it was not easy or popular.
Jessika S., Indonesia

In addition to the badges, there are other projects a Scout must complete to earn his Springbok. One of these is a construction project. Rocco chose to build a bridge. He had to first design and build a scale model of the bridge. Then, with a team of six other Scouts, Rocco had to build it full size, about 20 feet tall (6 m) and 30 feet long (9 m). It took nearly nine hours to build the bridge and then disassemble it.

Then there’s community service, which is a big part of earning both the Springbok and the Duty to God Award. For his Springbok service requirement, Rocco visited more than 40 homes of seniors to help them with various chores and repairs. “The only big thing that overlapped was the 40-hour service project I was able to use for both Scouts and the Duty to God Award,” says Rocco.

Of all the requirements Rocco has fulfilled to earn his various awards, he points to one in particular as most valuable for his personal growth: “Reading the Book of Mormon,” Rocco says without hesitation. “That was the biggest and most rewarding challenge.”

“I had read the Book of Mormon once already, a year or so ago, but I was just reading to get it done,” Rocco explains. “When I started reading it again, I really wanted to learn and gain a testimony of it.” He approached reading the Book of Mormon in a completely different way his second time through. “Every time I read now, I pray before to ask Heavenly Father’s Spirit to be with me as I read.”

Rocco’s already begun on his next big project—to more actively share his testimony with others as he prepares to serve a full-time mission. His Scouting experiences and earning the Duty to God Award have helped him in his personal development and in becoming a missionary. “To spread the gospel, I needed to know what is in the Book of Mormon, and I needed to know that it is true,” he says. “After reading the Book of Mormon for the second time, I received a testimony of it.”

Even if there was not a Duty to God Award to earn, Rocco says he would have fulfilled most of the requirements simply because he wanted to prepare for missionary service. Attending church, reading the scriptures, praying daily, and giving service are just part of who Rocco is, of being what a Latter-day Saint is supposed to be.

Now that he has received his call to serve as a full-time missionary, the testimony Elder du Plessis has built is proving much more useful than the rope-and-log bridge he built for his Springbok construction project. However, some of the backwoodsman skills he learned as a Scout may come in handy as he serves in Zimbabwe, Zambia, and Malawi.

Many years ago, I had the desire to learn how to plant taro, which is our Polynesian potato. To help me in this endeavor, I went to see a very good friend—an elder in the ward—who knew a lot about agriculture, and who, over the years, had accumulated all the necessary expertise to produce beautiful taro in his fa’a’apu (field). I asked him if he could come to my house to teach me the basic techniques for planting beautiful taro. He accepted my invitation. He was excited to share his knowledge.
We talked for 30 minutes, and I took as many notes as possible of all the necessary steps to plant taro. I followed my notes to reproduce the advice my friend had given me. Every day, I would enjoy watering my taro after work. I could see the foliage of the taro plants growing day after day; it was radiant. I could envision myself eating my taro.
The long-awaited moment came to harvest the taro; seven months had gone by. I couldn’t wait to see the size of my taro tubers in the ground. I took my shovel to remove the soil around the plant to extract the taro. To my surprise, I found no taro under the plant. The taro had not grown. It was a total failure! I could see that the foliage of the plant had reached maturity—at least one meter, and it was green, which is a sign that the plant is doing well.
What happened to my taro which did not grow like my friend’s taro? I had followed every advice he had given me.
I would like to share with you some of the lessons I learned from this experience and especially how these lessons have helped my wife and I raise our children to stay on the covenant path, and to produce fruits worthy of the Lord.
The first lesson I learned was that taro needed much more water to grow. I don’t think I watered my taro plants enough. The “corme” (bulb) which is the base of the plant’s stem should not be completely submerged; or if so, only temporarily. However, the soil must constantly remain moist for the roots to grow and bear fruit.
The second lesson was that in addition to living in a humid environment, taro needed to be fertilized regularly because the taro plant needs plenty of nitrogen; and that’s something I hadn’t done, unfortunately. I must have overlooked this important information when I talked to my friend.

“Did you sing that song when you were in Primary?” Jessica asked.
“No, ‘Families Can Be Together Forever’ hadn’t been written yet when I was in Primary. Several years after Grandpa passed away, Grandma heard the Primary children sing it in sacrament meeting. She felt the Spirit so strongly that she was sure Heavenly Father was speaking right to her. Grandma loved the words because they gave her comfort in knowing that her family could be together forever.”

Mary Ellen Edmunds described it this way in her book Love Is a Verb: While in the post office, she noticed a man who looked as if he might have come from Mexico. He was trying to buy stamps from the stamp machine with a very worn five-dollar bill. The stamp machine repeatedly rejected the bill. Mary Ellen was struck with a deep feeling that she wanted to help the man get his stamps. She found new, crisp bills in her purse, and she and the man were able to buy the stamps he needed. Mary Ellen wrote:
I had another thought that added even more meaning to the experience. I imagined Them Up There somewhere in a meeting. . . .
. . . I could imagine someone interrupting the meeting with an important message: “Excuse me. I hate to interrupt, but there’s a man down there in the Springville Post Office, and he’s trying to get some stamps and can’t make the machine work.”
Wouldn’t it be something if someone in the meeting had said, “It’s okay. Edmunds is on her way. She’ll help him. We can go back to the agenda.” Wouldn’t it be a wonderful thing if God could count on MEE?

Temple work featured in the “perfect day” for Ben and Carol. When Ben retired a couple of years ago, he and Carol accepted callings as temple workers. “The bishop’s assigned ‘perfect day’ happened to be one of the two days in the week that we serve in the temple.
“I serve as a supervisor at the temple, and I was really touched when, in a prayer meeting, the brother offering the prayer asked that the Lord watch over me, as supervisor, and bless me with a special day. He didn’t know about our ‘perfect day’ assignment, but his prayer was very meaningful to me.
“What a special place to be for a ‘perfect day.’ We were there in the Lord’s house, doing the Lord’s work, side by side with wonderful brothers and sisters, helping others on the road to the celestial kingdom.”

Becca Briggs of the Oakhills Fifth Ward, Oakhills California Stake, has really got things cooking. Becca was selected as one of 26 finalists in Seventeen Magazine’s National Menu Planning Competition, and went on to place with the top five winners, for which she received a special citation for her “Junior Prom Dinner for Two” entry.

“I’ve always liked to experiment with fancy foods and interesting recipes,” said Becca. “I’d watch my mom cook when I was little, and decided that I wanted to learn how, too, so I started cooking back then. When my foods teacher at high school encouraged me to enter the Seventeen Magazine contest, it just seemed natural.”

So Becca and the 25 other finalists (including Jennie Balliff from the Oak Hills Sixth Ward, Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake) were off to the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York, for the final competition where they would whip up their delectable dishes for the judges.

“It was fun cooking in the huge kitchens there and getting to know the other finalists from across the United States,” said Becca. “A lot of people asked me about the Mormons when they learned I was from Utah. I told them that I believed in God, and explained the Church and our beliefs to them. It was a good missionary experience.”

Becca’s prize-winning menu included salmon in pastry with cheese sauce, cream of leek and potato soup, chocolate mousse, and fresh strawberries dipped in chocolate. You might like to try one of her recipes.

The kids in Capri’s class talked a lot. They liked to tell each other about their week. They liked to answer questions in the lesson.
But not Capri. She couldn’t talk. She had a disability that made it hard to speak.
One Sunday, Sister Fox had exciting news. “The Primary program is coming up,” she said. “Each of you will have a part.”
Sister Fox gave slips of paper to the other children. Each paper had a line for them to say. But Capri could not say the words. How could she have a part in the program?
“I have a special part for you,” Sister Fox told Capri. She held up a small box. It had a little handle sticking out on one side. “Watch this.” Sister Fox turned the handle around and around. Soft music played from the box.
Capri clapped her hands. She knew that song!
Sister Fox smiled. “Here, you try.” She helped Capri turn the little handle. Music played. It was like magic!
“Will you play this song for us in the Primary program?” Sister Fox asked. Capri nodded. She was happy to have a part.
Soon it was the day of the program. One by one, each child walked up to the front to say their part.
“God loves us,” said Allie.
“God is our Heavenly Father,” said Zac.
Then it was Capri’s turn. She stepped up to the front. Then she turned the little handle on the box. The soft music played. Capri thought of the words of the song in her mind as she played.
I am a child of God,
And He has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home
With parents kind and dear.
Capri looked out at all the people. They were smiling up at her.
At the end of the program, the bishop spoke. “Each child shared their testimony today,” he said. “What they shared is true. We are all children of God.”
Capri felt something warm in her heart. She knew the bishop was right. She was a child of God. And she had an important part to play.

One Sunday afternoon a few years ago, Benjamin’s dad gave him a piece of paper and suggested that he make something for family home evening. Now every Sunday Benjamin gets out his craft box and makes a project. He has made models of scripture stories like Jonah and the whale and Noah’s ark. It’s always a surprise to see what he will come up with.
Benjamin likes sharing his projects in family home evening. And when it’s time to sing the opening song, Benjamin volunteers to conduct it.

I have just read Tom Osmond’s article in the April New Era, and I know from experience that every word is true! I have suffered from epilepsy since I was five years old. I had no confidence and was afraid to go anywhere on my own. My mother always had to go with me. I would not talk to anybody, and I thought everybody was laughing at me and talking about me—that is until I was baptized into the Church two years ago last May. Since that day I have gained confidence, and I am able to go out on my own. My epilepsy is milder too, and if everything goes well, it will be cleared up by summer. This is because of the love and faith I have found in Jesus Christ. My prayers have been answered, and I have a lot to thank the Lord for. I have learned that you can live a full life regardless of any disability, just as Tom Osmond said.
Carol SimsDerby, Derbyshire, England

The Prophet’s natural disposition to do good was demonstrated during Zion’s Camp. In May 1834, the Prophet and his brethren were in the process of pitching their tents on the Illinois prairie when some of the brethren suddenly discovered three rattlesnakes and were about to kill them. The Prophet immediately intervened, teaching: “Let them alone—don’t hurt them! How will the serpent ever lose his venom, while the servants of God possess the same disposition, and continue to make war upon it? Men must become harmless, before the brute creation; and when men lose their vicious dispositions and cease to destroy the animal race, the lion and the lamb can dwell together, and the sucking child can play with the serpent in safety” (History of the Church, 2:71). The Prophet Joseph lived as he preached.

For the first 18 years of my life, I followed my parents and grandparents to church every Sunday. Witnessing their joy instilled in my heart the desire for own children to find joy in attending church and communicating with Heavenly Father. Growing up in the Free Church of Tonga, I saw how committed the ministers were in teaching us to always put God first in our lives. This brought great blessings to me. We migrated to Auckland, New Zealand, seeking a better life, unaware that God was preparing us for a greater purpose.

In 2019, one of the missionaries who found and invited us to follow our Saviour, Jesus Christ, told my wife, Lupe, and me a story. He said that in 1990, he and his companion knelt in prayer, seeking to know the will of the Lord. They were led to a particular street where they knocked on every door, but no one wanted to hear their message.

As they were about to leave, he felt impressed to go back and try again. Obedient, they began knocking on the same doors they had knocked on before, and when they got to the sixth house, I was sitting outside. So began my knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

These two beautiful missionaries taught me about Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness, about The First Vision, and the Book of Mormon. They taught how Joseph Smith, seeking to know what church he should join, read the book of James and prayed to God with faith his prayer would be answered.

The missionaries bore testimony that in answer to his prayer, God the Father and His beloved Son Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith, that he was called to be a prophet, and that the gospel of Jesus Christ was restored through him.

This was all new to me, but they promised that I could know for myself if this did happen. They gave me a Book of Mormon, with an invitation to read, ponder, and apply Moroni’s invitation to ask God if the book is true.

When they returned two days later, I explained that after reading the introduction, the testimony of the witnesses, and the account of Christ visiting the people in 3 Nephi, I pled with God to know if it was true. I felt warmth all over me but didn’t understand what that was. The elders then taught me that the Holy Ghost was bearing witness to my spirit, which brought excitement to my heart. My mother and three younger brothers joined our next lesson, and we all got baptised into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

With tears of joy, this former missionary, Tomasi Takau, shared his experience from over 30 years ago, blessed now to witness the fruit of his labour. Because of the prayers, faith, and courage of Elder Tomasi Takau and his companion, Elder Johnson, I served my own mission in Wellington, New Zealand, from 1991 to 1993, then met and married my wife, Lupe, in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, and we now have four sons and a daughter, with two grandchildren and a third due later this year.

What a joy it was for Lupe and me to cross paths with Tomasi Takau’s son, who is now serving a mission in the Kingdom of Tonga. Looking into the younger Elder Takau’s eyes, I thank his father for bringing the joy of the gospel into my life and praying sincerely with his companion to know God’s will all those years ago, and I also thank this young man for answering the invitation from President Russell M. Nelson for every young man to serve a mission. “The worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 18:10).

My life changed because two missionaries had the courage to submit to the will of the Lord and to knock a second time. I know Heavenly Father hears and answers the prayers of His children. I’m grateful for my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and I know we are led by a living prophet of God. Jesus Christ is the Saviour and Redeemer of the world. May we bind ourselves to Him who has all the power to heal, forgive, and bless our lives.