Gospel Story Finder

We also learned a beautiful lesson about consecration from one of the assistants to the president in our mission. A decision had been made that one of our missionaries needed to be sent home early from his mission. He had been disobedient on several occasions despite counseling, contracts, and repeated warnings. The airplane ticket had been purchased, and the appropriate approvals were obtained from the South America South Area Presidency and the Missionary Department to send this missionary home.

When the assistants brought the missionary in for his final interview, he protested loudly and tearfully that he did not want to go home. He promised to improve and said he would sign yet another contract. In desperation, President Oveson called the two assistants and Sister Oveson into his office and asked the elder to wait outside while the possible courses of action were discussed. Sister Oveson, somewhat out of patience with the situation, believed that sending him home was the only reasonable thing to do. “If he is allowed to stay,” she maintained, “the other missionaries might think that obedience is not important.”

One of the assistants said, “I have to agree with Hermana Oveson. I don’t think we really have a choice.”

When President Oveson asked the other assistant for his opinion, the assistant said, “I see much good in this elder. President, if you will let me go back out into the field, I will take him for my companion for the rest of my mission. I will take responsibility for him and help him to become a loving and obedient missionary.”

We all had tears in our eyes by the time this elder finished his remarks. We could not believe that anyone could be so loving and caring, especially a 20-year-old missionary. The decision was made to do as he requested. He found it exceedingly difficult at first, but slowly his junior companion learned a great deal from him and became a trustworthy missionary. When the senior companion went home, his companion stayed to finish his mission, becoming in time a senior companion and a trainer before he was honorably released. The follow-up to this true experience is that this once-wayward elder has since married and been sealed in the temple. He and his wife now have a son. They are active in the Church and are helping to build the kingdom. What a difference a consecrated, Christlike person made in the life of this missionary and his future family!

Several years ago, the Salt Lake City newspapers published an obituary notice of a close friend—a mother and wife taken by death in the prime of her life. I visited the mortuary and joined a host of persons gathered to express condolence to the distraught husband and motherless children. Suddenly the smallest child, Kelly, recognized me and took my hand in hers.
“Come with me,” she said; and she led me to the casket in which rested the body of her beloved mother. “I’m not crying, Brother Monson, and neither must you. My mommy told me many times about death and life with Heavenly Father. I belong to my mommy and my daddy. We’ll all be together again.”
Through tear-moistened eyes, I recognized a beautiful and faith-filled smile. To my young friend, whose tiny hand yet clasped mine, there would never be a hopeless dawn. Sustained by her unfailing testimony, knowing that life continues beyond the grave, she, her father, her brothers, her sisters, and indeed all who share this knowledge of divine truth, can declare to the world, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning” (Ps. 30:5).

Whenever a prayer is offered on a date, whether kneeling in your home or in the mountains, the important thing is to have faith and be in tune so that after your prayer is offered you are prepared to listen for and expect an answer. This is beautifully illustrated by the testimony of a young girl who attended summer camp. During her camping experience it was suggested by one of the leaders that the girls might want to find a private spot in nature where they could be by themselves and talk with God. Some weeks later in a fast and testimony meeting, Becky stood up and told about how she had found a private spot, knelt down in a quiet, wooded area surrounded by tall pines and a few quaking aspens, and offered a simple prayer: “Father in heaven, do you know I’m here?” She went on to tell how she waited and waited, and as a breeze fluttered the leaves, she opened her eyes to see the rays of sun filter through the trees. She said a feeling came over her, and with deep emotion these were her words, “You may not think it was anything, but I knew He knew I was there.”

As you seek earnestly for direction you will want to remember the admonition given in the Doctrine and Covenants: “Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers.” (D&C 112:10.) And finally, in paraphrasing the words of Becky’s testimony regarding prayer, “There may be some who will not think it is anything, but you will know that He knows that you are there.”

The only construction project Kalene Rice, 14, had ever been involved with was when she helped her father build a birdhouse. Cassie Rudy, 17, also couldn’t remember even holding a hammer. “I might have used one once to hammer a nail in the wall to hang a picture, but I’m not sure,” she says.
If Cassie wasn’t sure then, she is now. She joined Kalene and about 180 other young people from the Frederick Maryland Stake in Chestertown, Maryland, to build two houses in two days. Cassie has the callouses on her hands to prove it.
“This whole project depended on our attitude,” said Cassie. “We could have sat here the whole time and not worked. But that wouldn’t have been any fun. It’s a really good feeling to know we can do things like this.” Adds 14-year-old April Hough, “This has taken more time and more work, but it has been so useful because we’re helping someone who is less fortunate.”

The first year the party was held, only the Primary children and their parents were invited, but about halfway through that evening the young people realized they were leaving out almost half the children of the neighborhood. The next year everyone under 12 and their parents were invited. “This year we brought nine nonmember neighbors,” said Adrienne Brantzeg, a Laurel. Two of those were six-year-old Martin Seraphin and his mother who had recently moved with their family to Salt Lake City from New Jersey. “He’ll remember this until he’s 43,” Mrs Seraphin said of her son. “I can’t believe there are young people who would go to all this work just to serve the neighborhood children.”

I sat at my desk one Monday morning looking at all the e-mails that had piled up over the weekend. Always suspicious of a computer virus, I was almost ready to delete an e-mail and its attachment that were from an unknown sender. But as my finger paused on the mouse button, ready to click, the Spirit prompted me to open the message.
“Hello, Elder Rian Jones,” it began. “You are now around 50 years old, and I am 37. I have only a vague remembrance of your person, and I am not sure if the man I remember is the one I am writing to.” Actually, I was 45 years old, and who was this person who would address me as “Elder”? I hadn’t been called that since my mission. The writer then asked if I was still active in the Church and had kept the spirit of my mission. My curiosity was really piqued now.
“I don’t know if you will ever answer this e-mail. If you do, I will tell you many other things about my life and how I have been blessed by your mission. Elder, you never know where a small, good action can lead.” He signed his e-mail “Cesare Quarinto.” Later he told me he had found my e-mail address on the Italy Rome Mission Web site.
Try as I might, I could not recall the experience of teaching a 12-year-old boy in Taranto. But the attachment to the e-mail was a page he had scanned from an old copy of the Book of Mormon. It was a dedication, written in my handwriting in Italian, dated September 14, 1975. It read:
“Dear Cesare,
“I am giving you this gift so that you can read it to find the beautiful truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Don’t ever forget prayer, because it is only through prayer that you can find the truth. … I know this is the true Church, and I hope to share this truth with you.
“Your friend,
“Elder Rian Jones”
Suddenly I had a perfect recollection. Seeing the words I had written caused the memory to return. I recalled vividly the rented space we used for a chapel in Taranto. We taught young Cesare the gospel in that building. I had given him his own copy of the Book of Mormon shortly before I was transferred to another city. Recalling the circumstances and reading Cesare’s e-mail, I was overcome with joy.
I did have some success on my mission, but unfortunately most of the people I baptized had fallen away from the Church over the years. Now a scripture came to mind: “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:15).

Then-Elder Gordon B. Hinckley spoke of meeting a young naval officer from Asia. The officer had not been a Christian, but during training in the United States, he had learned about the Church and was baptized. He was now preparing to return to his native land.
President Hinckley asked the officer: “Your people are not Christians. What will happen when you return home a Christian, and, more particularly, a Mormon Christian?”
The officer’s face clouded, and he replied: “My family will be disappointed. … As for my future and my career, all opportunity may be foreclosed against me.”
President Hinckley asked, “Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel?”
With his dark eyes moistened by tears, he answered with a question: “It’s true, isn’t it?”
President Hinckley responded, “Yes, it is true.”
To which the officer replied, “Then what else matters?”

Shortly after Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery received the priesthood from heavenly messengers in 1829, they were shown in revelation how they should proceed to organize the Church again on earth. Doctrine and Covenants 20 gives the reason for this specific date: “The rise of the Church of Christ in these last days, being one thousand eight hundred and thirty years since the coming of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in the flesh, it being regularly organized and established agreeable to [all] the laws of [the] country, by the will and commandments of God, in the fourth month, … on the sixth day of the month which is called April” (D&C 20:1).
Peter Whitmer Sr. offered his home for the organization that was scheduled for Tuesday, April 6, 1830, in accordance with previously received revelations. At the appointed hour, somewhere around 60 people assembled to witness the formal organization of the Church of Jesus Christ.
The meeting was simple. Joseph Smith, then 24 years of age, called the group to order and designated five associates—Oliver Cowdery, Hyrum Smith, Peter Whitmer Jr., Samuel H. Smith, and David Whitmer—to join him to meet New York’s legal requirements for the incorporation of a religious society. After kneeling in solemn prayer, Joseph asked those present if they were willing to accept him and Oliver as their teachers and spiritual advisers. Everyone raised their hands to the affirmative. Although they had previously received the Melchizedek Priesthood, Joseph and Oliver ordained each other to the office of elder. They did this to signify that they were elders in the newly organized Church. The sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was administered next. The Restoration of the gospel clarified the use and meaning of the sacrament, which through dark periods of the Apostasy had suffered many perversions. By revelation, the members of the Church were counseled, “It is expedient that the church meet together often to partake of bread and wine in the remembrance of the Lord Jesus” (D&C 20:75).

His father, John Brannigan, had been determined to get his family out of the third-floor railroad flat on a Brooklyn street where poverty forced him to take his bride, but his son was 15 before John Brannigan, working days and going to school nights, received his degree that resulted in a job with an electronics firm and eventually earned for him the position with his company’s California office.
The three-bedroom home they bought was so different from the dreary flat Brad had grown up in, the quietness of the suburban neighborhood such a contrast to the day-and-night uproar of the Brooklyn street, that Brad had no more than begun his adjustment to the change.

From an accident that could have been devastating to any future accomplishment, Peter Jeppson struggled against adversity to become a successful businessman, Church leader, husband, and father. He is now the owner of his own insurance and investment agency, has served on the General Board of the Young Men, and has three children, two daughters and a son.
While Peter was lying in the hospital as a 19-year-old trying to figure out his future, he asked himself, “What one thing would I have to accomplish that would mean I had overcome my problems?” He was influenced by some books on setting goals that his friend had read to him before his bandages were removed from his eyes. He decided that if he could be a successful life insurance sales manager that would mean (1) he was able to develop a good relationship with people individually, (2) he would have gained an education, and (3) he would have proven his credibility and ability in one area.
With this goal in mind, Peter began researching insurance companies. He contacted 59 companies and was not offered a single job. He finally got a position as a planning manager for an insurance company. It was a very small beginning. Through persistence, hard work, and going to school at the same time, Peter began learning the business.
By the time Peter got married, he had paid all his debts to doctors and hospitals, but he was starting married life with no assets except his confidence and attitude. In ten years, he has built all that he and his family have from nothing by determination and discipline.
Now, Peter, Marjorie, and their children all keep journals recording the progress they are making on their goals. When the children are too small to be able to write, Marjorie records in their journals for them.
With a slim, athletic build, Peter points out that one of his goals this year was to be able to run 3 kilometers in 16 minutes. He has reached that goal.

I have just entered room 3021 and plopped my books down, preparing for my Family Relations 101 class. Why, you might wonder, does a guy studying to be a construction engineer want to learn about nonverbal communication with babies and how to deal with a teenager who has an attitude?
The answer is simple. I took this course because I am loaded down with pre-engineering classes. I want a change of pace, something where I don’t have to figure out structural stress coefficients. The fact that the female to male ratio is 7:1 has nothing to do with it.
Well, maybe a little.
The early indications are it is a wise choice. A blonde-haired girl with a trace of freckles across her nose just sat down a row in front of me. She looked around the class, smiled when she saw me, and said, “Hello.”
This is a most excellent sign. I sort of smile back at her and nod, trying to be very cool. I started to say something really original like “How ya’ doin’?” but decide not to rush things.
I am feeling good about this relationship. It is at least 20 seconds old and going well. Why not rush things a bit? What should I do next? Change seats? Ask her what her major is? Tell her she looks like she is from California? I’m feeling slightly euphoric.
But the enchantment vanishes seconds later when a woman in her early 50s briskly walks into the room and sits down beside me.
“I had no idea that we were is this class together,” she says pleasantly.
“Neither did I, Mom.”
I love my mother. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. But I see my chances of getting to know the blonde-haired girl in the next row slipping through my grasp. Let’s face it. It’s very difficult to display your charm, wit, and intelligence to a woman when your mother—who knows what you’re really like—is only inches away.
“This will be a great experience for us,” Mom says enthusiastically. “Maybe we can study together for tests.”
I glance at the girl and think about what might have been as the professor clears her throat and begins to lecture.

As I cleaned the beauty shop after school, I found a half-full jug of wine left over from a party. I asked my boss what I should do with it. “Dump it out, and throw away the bottle,” he said as he left. He locked the door on his way out, and I was alone. I continued my usual cleaning routine, but that bottle of wine was on my mind. I was 14 and had never tasted wine. I was tempted.
I cleaned the restroom, sanitized the hairbrushes, and mopped the floor, thinking the entire time about that jug of wine in the back workroom. I knew one taste would not make me drunk. I knew that nobody else would ever know. With that thought I realized that I would know and so would my Heavenly Father. My struggle was over. I knew I would be sorry if I gave in to this temptation, and I wanted to be strong enough to resist all temptations. I poured the wine down the drain, rinsed the bottle, and dropped it into the trash.
This experience might seem unimportant except for the difference it made in me. I had made a decision that I would keep the commandments even when nobody was looking. I wanted to do the right thing for the right reason. I now know that I have the strength to resist temptation, and I feel more confident that I can walk the path back to my Heavenly Father.
Beth M. Stephenson, Oklahoma, USA

When Gina Randall joined the Church in Johannesburg, South Africa in 1969, she was recently divorced with two young children. She had no family support and no friends in the Church. Her new branch was a large one. Coming to church was a daunting experience.
“At first I was very dependent on the missionary who had introduced me to the Church, but as he neared the end of his mission, he realised I needed another friend,” she says. “He introduced me to another, older sister who had been baptised at a similar time as I was.
“We clung together like monkeys!” says Sister Randall. “Just having somebody around when everything seemed new and strange gave me a lot of comfort. She really was my lifeline.”
Now, still an active member 52 years later, “I often wonder if I would have made it if it wasn’t for her,” she says.

Simon can swim. I can’t even float.
Simon can fish and row a boat.
Simon can sing. I can’t even hum.
But he can’t say HIPPOPOTAMUS, so people make fun.
He can do lots of things—Simon is smart!
With a box and two wheels he can make a cart.
With a box and four wheels he can make a bus.
But he just can’t say HIPPOPOTAMUS.
He’s only a boy and not a grown man.
He’ll say it some day—whenever he can.
He can count to a hundred, make his own bed,
Tie his own shoes, and stand on his head.
He can whistle and yodel and play a bassoon.
He can tap-dance and tumble and make up a tune.
So why do people make such a fuss
Because he can’t say HIPPOPOTAMUS?
Once Simon and I went to visit the zoo.
We saw a baboon and a gray kangaroo.
Now Simon knew every animal there.
I didn’t know them, but I didn’t care.
He said, “Here’s an aardvark—they’re very rare.
And that is a platypus, right over there.
This small armadillo has a shell very strong.”
Then he said HIPPOPOTAMUS—but it came out all wrong.
It didn’t matter. I didn’t mind.
I wouldn’t laugh. That wouldn’t be kind.
Simon’s my friend, and I wouldn’t fuss
Because he can’t say HIPPOPOTAMUS.
He can make a fire,
Roll a tire,
Bake a pie,
Tie a tie,
Train a dog,
Call a hog,
Paint a house,
Catch a mouse,
Saw a board,
Make a sword.
But he just can’t say that GREAT BIG WORD!
He’ll say it some day. Just give him time.
I know he will do it. He’ll do it just fine.
So let others grumble and mumble and sigh.
Simon can’t say HIPPOPOTAMUS—and neither can I!

Latter-day Saints in Palos Verdes, California, USA, partnered with a nonprofit organization called Clean San Pedro to sweep and clean the streets and sidewalks in the central area of San Pedro, collecting over one ton (900 kg) of refuse and litter.
The head of Clean San Pedro, Steve Kleinjan, said, “We love to work with this church. They always have such a good turnout of volunteers.”

Hi! My name is Rachael.
Bullying was a problem at my school. My friend Lexi and I decided to challenge the kids in our school to be kind!
How It All Started
When I was in fourth grade, I saw a friend being bullied. I told my teacher, but I didn’t do anything else. I wished I had been brave enough to do something more. My mom said if I prayed, Heavenly Father could help me.
A Prayer and a Phone Call
I went to my bedroom and prayed about it. Just as I said, “Amen,” the phone rang. It was my friend Lexi. She could tell I had been crying. I told her what happened at school and invited her to come over.
The Challenge for Kindness
I decided to make a chart to help me remember to be kinder every day. I called it the “Challenge for Kindness.” Lexi said we should make one for everyone in our class.
Sharing the Challenge
We made a presentation about the challenge and sent it to our teacher. She invited us to present it to our class. I was super nervous, but we did it. Now everyone in our class had their own kindness chart.
Butterflies!
I still wanted to do more, so I sent our presentation to the principal. She asked us to share our challenge with the whole school! Now I really had butterflies. I said a prayer right before the assembly started. Lexi and I took turns talking about why people bully and what to do about it. At the end we both said, “We will make a difference! Together we will stop bullying!”
A Huge Warm Feeling
As I walked back to my seat, I had a huge warm feeling. Heavenly Father comforted me when I felt bad and prompted me to do something that made a difference. It felt good to know I had answered Heavenly Father’s challenge to be kind!

The best part of our walk that day wasn’t riding in the shiny red wagon that Grandpa had given me for my birthday, even though it was lots of fun. And it wasn’t the snowflakes making polka dots on my blue coat and pants. The best part was when Mama stopped the wagon in front of Mr. Tanner’s pet shop.
Mr. Tanner’s window was full of frisky puppies. I got out of the wagon and pushed my nose against the cold window. The puppies ran to me and tried to lick my nose through the glass. Mama and I laughed.
“Oh, look, Cassie!” Mama exclaimed as she pointed. High up on a shelf I saw a cage of fluffy kittens. I waved, but they were busy chasing each other’s tails.
“What’s that?” I asked and pointed to a small ball of gray fur in another cage.
“I can’t tell,” Mama replied, “but here comes Mr. Tanner. Let’s ask him.”
“How’s my friend Cassie today?” asked Mr. Tanner, coming out of his shop. He brushed the snow from my hat. “Did you ever see so many little rascals?” he asked, chuckling. “Sure hope I can sell them all by Christmas.”
“What’s in that cage up there?” I asked, pointing to the gray furry ball.
“It’s a bunny,” he answered. “The last one too. Do you like her?”
Just then the bunny turned and looked at me with her big brown eyes. Her ears stood straight up, and she wiggled her tiny button nose. I wanted that bunny for my very own. “How much does she cost?” I asked.
“Just one dollar,” said Mr. Tanner.
“Oh, Mama!” I exclaimed, delighted. “I have a dollar in my piggy bank. Please, may I buy the bunny?”
Mama hugged me. “We’ll have to ask Grandpa first,” she said. “We’d better go now. It’s snowing hard, and we have a long way to walk.”
When we got home, Grandpa had supper on the table. After we’d sat down and he’d said the blessing on the food, I told him about the bunny in Mr. Tanner’s window.
“Eat your soup, Cassie,” he said. “It’ll warm your tummy.”
“Grandpa,” I said, “I have a dollar.”
“Drink your milk,” he said, filling my cup.
I love my grandpa a lot, but sometimes he just doesn’t listen to me.
“Grandpa!” I said in a loud voice. “Can I please have the bunny? You have Mama to take care of, and Mama has me, but I don’t have anybody.”
“It’s up to your mama,” he said as he buttered my bread, “but I would say no. It’ll just make a lot more work for me.”
So Mama said no. She might have said yes if she didn’t have to go to work every day. Nobody heard me say that I would take care of the bunny.
Whenever Mama and I walked to town to buy Christmas presents, we’d stop and look in Mr. Tanner’s window. Every time, there were fewer and fewer puppies and kittens, but the bunny was always there, and I was glad.
On Christmas Eve Mama and I walked by the pet shop one more time. All the animals in the window were gone. All but one—the bunny. She wiggled her nose, and I blew her a kiss. I wished for the hundredth time that Grandpa would change his mind.
Mr. Tanner saw us and came out of his shop. He whispered something to Mama, and Mama smiled and said she thought it would be all right.
“Cassie,” said Mr. Tanner, “would you take care of this bunny for me tomorrow? The shop will be closed, and it wouldn’t be right to leave her alone on Christmas Day.”
“Oh, yes!” I cried, and I quickly led Mama and Mr. Tanner into the shop. Mr. Tanner put the bunny into a small box with air holes and handed Mama a bag of rabbit food. I got to carry the bunny box all the way home!
“What in the world!” Grandpa exclaimed when he saw the bunny. “Didn’t we say a rabbit would be too much trouble?”
“It’s just for tomorrow,” Mama explained. “Cassie and I will take care of her.”
“I can do it all by myself,” I said.
Grandpa wasn’t so sure and just said, “Hmmmmm.”
I found a bigger box and put an old window screen over the top of it. I put food and water and the bunny inside. After she had eaten, I took her out and petted her and put her back until after supper.
Grandpa wouldn’t even look at her. Well, maybe he did once or twice—but just for a minute. He made a fire in the fireplace and set up our Christmas tree and strung the twinkly lights. Mama helped him hang the ornaments and strings of popcorn while I took care of the bunny.
At bedtime I put the bunny back in the box and left it by the fireplace so she would stay warm. Grandpa took me upstairs and tucked me in.
“Grandpa, can’t the bunny stay?” I pleaded.
But Grandpa just kissed my forehead and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
“Sometimes it’s hard to say no,” he said slowly, “especially to someone you love. Maybe someday, Cassie, but not now. Grandpa has no extra time.”
“I promise I’ll take care of her,” I called, but Grandpa was already downstairs.
Christmas morning I woke up before anyone else and tiptoed downstairs in my nightgown. The lights on our tree blinked on and off, and the room looked bright and sparkly. Under the tree were presents with my name on them, and my stocking, stuffed full and topped with an apple, hung from the mantle. Grandpa was asleep in his big chair by the fireplace. Our afghan lay across his lap. I tried not to wake him as I ran to the bunny box and looked in. The screen was off and the box was empty!
“Here, bunny, bunny,” I called softly, but she didn’t come. I peeked under the furniture. Then I searched all the other rooms, but the bunny was gone. I felt scared, and my heart went bump, bump, bump.
Mama came downstairs. “Cassie, what are you doing?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“The bunny’s lost!” I cried. “I can’t find her anywhere.”
Mama hugged me. “She has to be here somewhere.” But even with both of us searching, we couldn’t find her. “Oh, dear,” Mama said. “Maybe we made a mistake bringing her home.”
“What’s all the commotion?” Grandpa asked as he yawned and opened his eyes. “And why the sad faces? It’s Christmas!”
“The bunny’s missing,” said Mama, “and we’ve looked everywhere. What are we going to tell Mr. Tanner?”
Grandpa laughed and lifted the afghan. The bunny was fast asleep in his lap. “You tell Mr. Tanner that he’s sold another rabbit,” Grandpa said. He winked at me, and his whole face smiled. “I tried to tell her that she couldn’t stay, but she does have the biggest brown eyes, doesn’t she?”
I sat on the chair next to Grandpa.
“Cassie,” he said, “Grandpa forgot just how soft and cuddly little rabbits can be. No more pet shop for this bunny. She has a family now, and we’ll all help to take care of her.”
I hugged Grandpa hard, and Mama kissed his cheek. Later, when I opened my Christmas presents, I knew that I already had the best present of all.

Once Joseph, Emma, and Oliver moved to Fayette, David’s mother had her hands full. Mary Whitmer and her husband, Peter, already had eight children between the ages of 15 and 30, and the few who did not still live at home resided nearby. Tending to their needs filled Mary’s days with work, and the three houseguests added more labor. Mary had faith in Joseph’s calling and did not complain, but she was getting tired.17
The heat in Fayette that summer was sweltering. As Mary washed clothes and prepared meals, Joseph dictated the translation in an upstairs room. Oliver usually wrote for him, but occasionally Emma or one of the Whitmers took a turn with the pen.18 Sometimes, when Joseph and Oliver tired of the strain of translating, they would walk out to a nearby pond and skip stones across the surface of the water.
Mary had little time to relax herself, and the added work and the strain placed on her were hard to bear.
One day, while she was out by the barn where the cows were milked, she saw a gray-haired man with a knapsack slung across his shoulder. His sudden appearance frightened her, but as he approached, he spoke to her in a kind voice that set her at ease.
“My name is Moroni,” he said. “You have become pretty tired with all the extra work you have to do.” He swung the knapsack off his shoulder, and Mary watched as he started to untie it.19
“You have been very faithful and diligent in your labors,” he continued. “It is proper, therefore, that you should receive a witness that your faith may be strengthened.”20
Moroni opened his knapsack and removed the gold plates. He held them in front of her and turned their pages so she could see the writings on them. After he turned the last page, he urged her to be patient and faithful as she carried the extra burden a little longer. He promised she would be blessed for it.21
The old man vanished a moment later, leaving Mary alone. She still had work to do, but that no longer troubled her.22

My great-grandfather Henry Ballard joined the Church in February 1849 in Thatcham, England, as a 17-year-old. To pay for his voyage to America, Henry contracted his services for two years to a company owned in part by Lorenzo and Erastus Snow. He was hired to drive a herd of sheep west to the Salt Lake Valley. Henry described his entrance into the valley in the following words:

“In October as I drove the sheep down little mountain and through the mouth of Emigration Canyon, I first beheld the Salt Lake Valley. While I rejoiced in viewing the ‘Promised Land,’ I lived in fear that someone might see me. I hid myself behind bushes all day until after dark for the rags I had on did not cover my body and I was ashamed to be thus exposed. After dark I crossed over the field to a house where a light was shining … and timidly knocked on the door. Fortunately, a man answered the door and the candle light did not expose me to the view of the other members of his household. I begged for clothes to cover my naked body so that I might continue my journey and locate my parents. I was given some clothing and the next day continued my journey and arrived in Salt Lake City 16th October, 1852, feeling very thankful to God that I had reached my future home in safety.”7

Historic Runnymede, set in the heart of England, provided the setting for a service project for the youth of the Staines England Stake.
Thirty-five youth and their adult leaders met to clear the overgrown woodland, which was obscuring the view of Runnymede, of historic significance as the spot were King John signed the Magna Charta in 1215. The beauty spot had been referred to by the National Trust of Great Britain, and the youth of the stake were helping to clear some of the undergrowth near the footpaths.
Accompanied by the buzz of chain saws and grunts, groans, and laughter, the participants soon cleared the pathway and collected dozens of sacks of debris from the wood, including old bicycle frames, rolls of wire, and even a burnt-out car. Their hard work paid off in significantly improving the picturesque area. Later a personalized copy of the Book of Mormon was presented to the National Trust warden who accompanied the youth on their service project.