Gospel Story Finder

An example of this would be Dick Hammer, who came to Utah with the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Depression. He met and married a Latter-day Saint young woman. He opened Dick’s Café in St. George, Utah, which became a popular meeting spot.
Assigned as home teacher to the Hammer family was Willard Milne, a friend of mine. Since I knew Dick Hammer as well, having printed the menus for his café, I would ask my friend Brother Milne when I visited St. George, “How is our friend Dick Hammer coming?”
The reply would generally be, “He’s coming, but slowly.”
When Willard Milne and his companion visited the Hammer home each month, they always managed to present a gospel message and to share their testimonies with Dick and the family.
The years passed by, and then one day Willard phoned me with good news. “Brother Monson,” he began, “Dick Hammer is converted and is going to be baptized. He is in his 90th year, and we have been friends all our adult lives. His decision warms my heart. I’ve been his home teacher for many years.” There was a catch in Willard’s voice as he conveyed his welcome message.
Brother Hammer was indeed baptized and a year later entered that beautiful St. George Temple and there received his endowment and sealing blessings.
I asked Willard, “Did you ever become discouraged as his home teacher for such a long time?”
He replied, “No, it was worth every effort. As I witness the joy which has come to the members of the Hammer family, my heart fills with gratitude for the blessings the gospel has brought into their lives and for the privilege I have had to help in some way. I am a happy man.”

“The gospel is a special gift,” Brother Hart told Addie’s Primary class. “One way we can share it is by giving a Book of Mormon to a friend.”
Addie squirmed in her seat. She didn’t know if she could be brave enough to give someone a Book of Mormon. Then she thought of Lane. If it’s just like giving a gift, she thought, then maybe I could give one to Lane.
Lane had moved to Addie’s fourth-grade class halfway through the year. She was quiet just like Addie was. And when Mrs. Naga gave Lane the desk next to Addie, they had both smiled shyly at each other. Soon they were laughing and talking and playing together at recess.
Lane loved books, and Addie decided that, just maybe, she would love the Book of Mormon too.
When Addie got home from church, she asked Mom for a copy of the Book of Mormon. Mom gave her one with a soft cover and beautiful paintings of scripture stories inside. Addie hoped Lane would like it.
Addie carefully wrote her testimony on the first blank page. “Dear Lane, I hope you like this book. It is one of my favorite books. It has lots of good stories, and I know it’s true. Thanks for being my friend.”
She signed her name and carefully slipped the book into her backpack. Her stomach felt all fluttery inside. Would Lane be happy to get it?
At school the next day, Addie could hardly sit still. She was so nervous. What would she say? What would Lane say?
Finally it was recess. Addie stopped Lane before they walked out to the playground.
“I have something for you,” Addie said. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Book of Mormon. “I hope you like it.”
Lane smoothed her fingers over the shiny gold letters on the cover. She smiled. “Thank you.” She put it in her backpack, and then she and Addie ran outside.
Addie could hardly stop smiling. She’d done it! She’d shared the gospel, just like a missionary.
But the next day, it was Lane who stopped Addie before they went out to recess. She quietly pulled out the Book of Mormon from her backpack and handed it to Addie.
“My mom doesn’t want me to read it,” she said. She stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Addie felt her cheeks heat up. “Oh,” was all she could say as she slipped the book back in her own bag. They went out to play hopscotch, but Addie didn’t feel much like hopping. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
When school was over, Addie waved goodbye to Lane. Then she ran home and hurried to her room. The door shut behind her with a dull thud. Addie pulled the book out of her backpack. She’d been so brave, and it hadn’t worked out!
She wiped away tears as she opened up the Book of Mormon to her testimony. She had been so excited when she’d written it. She still knew what she’d written was true, but now she felt sad instead of excited. Lane was one of her best friends. Was there any other way she could share the gift of the gospel with her?
Addie turned around as the door opened.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” __________________ asked.
Write your name in the blank and pretend you’re Addie’s big brother or sister who just walked in. What would you say to her when she told you what happened? How could you help Addie feel better? What other ways could she still share the gospel? Write and tell us!
There are lots of ways to share the gift of the gospel! Like being kind or being a good example.

Surrounded by a crowd of young women, Ariel Liston walked into her bedroom with her eyes closed. Slowly, as she opened her eyes, she lifted her hands to her face and began to cry.
“You guys did this for me? It’s so awesome. Wow! It’s so pretty!”
Ariel, a Mia Maid in the Orchard First Ward, Bountiful Utah Orchard Stake, couldn’t contain her happiness when she saw her “new” room. She loved the bright paint, the curtains, the dresser with her name lovingly stenciled on it, but most of all she was crying because she realized how much the other young women in the ward loved her.
Ariel’s room had needed some work. There were holes in the walls, the carpet was ragged, and she didn’t have a closet to hang her clothes in. Angela Gatherum, a Laurel in the ward, had similar needs in her own bedroom.
Knowing that these two girls needed help, the young women in their ward got together to remodel Ariel’s and Angela’s rooms. On a small budget, they transformed the girls’ bedrooms into beautiful living spaces. They painted, organized, made accessories and art pieces, refinished old furniture rescued from Deseret Industries and ward members, and even tore up flooring (all with parental permission, of course).
Their activity took all day, but their hard work and creativity paid off. When the young women were done, they led the girls into their rooms with their eyes closed.
“It was amazing to see the look on Ariel’s face when she opened her eyes,” says Angela, who helped remodel Ariel’s room. “I loved to see all the girls come together for the sake of serving.”
Elaine Petersen, a Mia Maid, agrees: “Seeing Ariel’s face was priceless. It made me want to do her whole house!”
The girls did a lot of work and were tired and dirty when they were done, but it was worth it. “It didn’t seem like it was work, it was so much fun!” says Katie Mortensen, a Mia Maid.
Melissa Anderson, a Beehive says, “I felt like I had made a difference.”
Not only did the girls learn some valuable decorating and cleaning skills, they also learned about how powerful they can be when they work together for a righteous cause. “This project took all of us to complete it,” says Heidi Anderson, a Laurel. “It wouldn’t have worked as well if we wouldn’t have had everyone there.”
Ariel and Angela got in on the fun, too, as they helped remodel each other’s rooms. They weren’t allowed to go into their own rooms until the other young women were finished. They were so grateful for the help they received in making their rooms more pleasant places to be. “Your surroundings have such a huge effect on the way you feel and act,” says Angela.
She thinks what the young women did for her is amazing. “My room is something I see every day, and so every day I am reminded of all the love and work that went into it on my behalf. It really makes me feel loved.”
Above Ariel’s bed the young women hung a hand-painted sign. It reads, “To every thing there is a season” (Eccl. 3:1). For the young women of the Orchard First Ward, their activity wasn’t just a season to paint, fix, and decorate; it was a season to love, serve, and give.

On one occasion my wife expected to be away for the weekend and asked one of the sisters in our ward to teach her Relief Society lesson. The week following the session, that sister came to our home and returned the instruction manual. She also brought to my wife a freshly baked loaf of bread and a handwritten note that read, “I love you. You are a special person. Thank you for thinking of me.” She was grateful to have been asked to serve. She was full of the love of Christ.

One day a few years ago, I was feeling incredibly exhausted on the train home from work. My mind was filled with anxious and scary thoughts. This wasn’t the first time such thoughts had entered my mind, but they had been showing up more frequently, and this time, I was scared.
Suddenly, I felt so much pain in my chest, and I started finding it difficult to breathe. I began to panic. My heart was racing. When I arrived at the train station near my home, I sat down on a bench, unable to take another step.
I was soon in an ambulance on my way to the hospital, certain I was going to die.
A few months before this incident, I’d become overwhelmed by a number of events in my life, and my mental health began to suffer. I had been feeling depressed and a lot of self-loathing. I had been meeting with a counselor, but I knew that I needed more help. Even so, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to see a doctor. I just didn’t want to be judged or to be seen as weak, and I felt ashamed of what I was experiencing.
I felt this way because in Japan, people don’t often talk about mental and emotional issues, and if they do, the issues aren’t discussed outside of one’s own family.
At the hospital, the doctors concluded that I wasn’t dying—I had simply experienced a panic attack. So I was sent on my way once I was feeling stable.
But the next day, my heart palpitations were still happening. I knew it must be connected to my dwindling mental health, so I finally summoned the courage to make an appointment with a psychiatrist.
I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, and the doctor prescribed anxiety medication for me.
To be honest, it was hard to accept this diagnosis at first. But at the same time, I was relieved when the doctor explained that this wasn’t a weakness—it was a condition that needed to be treated.
I thought I would get better quickly, but that wasn’t the case. The cycle of repeatedly feeling better and then falling back into a state of depression was frustrating.
On a particularly difficult day, I decided to turn to the Lord. And as I did, I began to see my healing process as an opportunity to humble myself, to open my mind to the reality of mental health struggles, to practice acceptance and patience, and to rely more on Heavenly Father and the Savior.
Believing that They could heal me, I started praying diligently for strength and for guidance to resources that could help me. I also felt inspired to ask my ministering brothers for priesthood blessings on really difficult days. Even though I wasn’t fully healed right away, every time I would receive a priesthood blessing, I was able to feel peace in my heart, direction, and hope.
I truly did feel that “immediate goodness of God” that Elder Kyle S. McKay of the Seventy once spoke of. “Even while we are patiently waiting upon the Lord,” he said, “there are certain blessings that come to us immediately.”1
I had never imagined that I would struggle with mental health challenges. However, through this experience, I’ve learned anew that the Lord is aware of each of us.
I witnessed this when I decided to take a break from work to help my mind heal. In speaking with my boss, I was surprised by how much compassion and understanding he showed me. He also told me that he was certified in mental health counseling.
I felt that it wasn’t a coincidence that I worked for this man, especially given the fact that mental health isn’t openly discussed in Japan. I became so much more aware of Heavenly Father’s mercy and influence in the details of our lives.
Mental health problems can easily happen to anyone, and they are nothing to be ashamed of. They need to be treated, just as with other medical conditions or illnesses.2 Now that they are a part of my life, I feel a sense of compassion and love for others who experience similar struggles.
I’ve realized that even if many people around me don’t understand mental health challenges, the Savior does. And He has ultimately prepared a way for me to overcome this challenge. With Him, even the most difficult seasons of life can be for our good and for our spiritual growth (see Romans 8:28).
I’m still healing, but I’ve discovered that my trials can help me recognize the love that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have for each of us. I know that as we rely on our Father in Heaven and Savior, They will always support us in our struggles and continue to help us find hope and healing.

When I was attending Brigham Young University, I learned what it truly means to be a queen. I was given a unique opportunity, along with a small group of other students, to meet the prophet, President David O. McKay. I was told to wear my best dress and to be ready to travel early the next morning to Huntsville, Utah, to the home of the prophet. I will never forget the experience I had. As soon as we entered the home, I felt the spirit which filled that home. We were seated in the prophet’s living room, surrounding him. President McKay had on a white suit, and seated next to him was his wife. He asked for each of us to come forward and tell him about ourselves. As I went forward, he held out his hand and held mine, and as I told him about my life and my family, he looked deeply into my eyes.

After we had finished, he leaned back in his chair and reached for his wife’s hand and said, “Now, young women, I would like you to meet my queen.” There seated next to him was his wife, Emma Ray McKay. Although she did not wear a crown of sparkling diamonds, nor was she seated on a throne, I knew she was a true queen. Her white hair was her crown, and her pure eyes sparkled like jewels. As President and Sister McKay spoke of their family and their life together, their intertwined hands spoke volumes about their love. Joy radiated from their faces. Hers was a beauty that cannot be purchased. It came from years of seeking the best gifts, becoming well educated, seeking knowledge by study and also by faith. It came from years of hard work, of faithfully enduring trials with optimism, trust, strength, and courage. It came from her unwavering devotion and fidelity to her husband, her family, and the Lord.

On that fall day in Huntsville, Utah, I was reminded of my divine identity, and I learned about what I now call “deep beauty”—the kind of beauty that shines from the inside out. It is the kind of beauty that cannot be painted on, surgically created, or purchased. It is the kind of beauty that doesn’t wash off. It is spiritual attractiveness. Deep beauty springs from virtue. It is the beauty of being chaste and morally clean. It is the kind of beauty that you see in the eyes of virtuous women like your mother and grandmother. It is a beauty that is earned through faith, repentance, and honoring covenants.

We have been taught that “the gift of the Holy Ghost … quickens all the intellectual faculties, increases, enlarges, expands and purifies all the natural passions and affections. … It inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity. It develops beauty of person, form and features.” Now, that is a great beauty secret! That is the beauty I observed in the home of a prophet. That day I learned that the beauty I saw in Sister McKay was the only beauty that really matters and the only kind of beauty that lasts.

Ashly’s family in 2021
Photograph by Lori Romney Photography
I didn’t realize the safety the gospel of Jesus Christ provided me until I gave up my agency to addiction. I started drinking and smoking weed at age 14. When I was 16, I spent 15 months in a lockdown adolescent facility. When I left, I relapsed. I was stealing to get money for drugs, and I had limited contact with my family. At one point I lived with a family who were all dealing and doing drugs. My situation was dark and scary. I was as low as you can get. By the time I was 19, I was addicted to heroin.
For a long time, I didn’t think I had it in me to achieve long-term sobriety or live a life of peace or fulfillment. Nevertheless, I saw God’s hand in my life in small miracles, like finding a Book of Mormon bookmark in an old Bible or having my dad’s unending love and support. Through these small messages, I heard the Lord’s voice.
I got sober from heroin and decided to “experiment” and see what would happen if I did everything God asked me to do (see Alma 32:27). I decided that if keeping the commandments made me happy, I would stay sober. Quitting cigarettes and coffee and going through the repentance process was tough. But I felt different after I did. I started to feel safe.
Throughout my years of addiction, I attended meetings of the Church’s addiction recovery program. I even met my future husband at one of the meetings. Each time I attended, I was welcomed with open arms. It was a safe place for me. During one meeting, a man offered to say a special prayer for me. That night I felt Heavenly Father’s love for me. I felt worthy of being clean. I got sober one month later.
For almost five years now, I have been a facilitator in the addiction recovery program. My favorite part about the meetings is that you can see and experience the gospel of Jesus Christ at work. There are no feelings of comparing yourself with others or concerns about being accepted. People are there because they need God. And they are willing to set pride aside to feel His peace.
These meetings are one of the places that I have felt the Spirit the most in my life. The meetings are a place of love, support, and hope. They are a place of safety where pain and problems are shared and where we truly can help bear each other’s burdens.
I feel that when people are early in recovery, God is so present in their lives. Small miracles and tender mercies happen regularly, and I believe that they are little nudges from God to keep these people going in the right direction.
It has been an honor for me to be able to use my experience with addiction and getting clean to give hope to those who still struggle. If I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, I would choose to follow the counsel of our Church leaders. I would choose not to try drugs or alcohol. But I know that the Lord can work all things to the good of those who love Him. I know that is what has happened for me. I have been able to turn my heartache and pain into a message of hope.

I had been a committed member of another church, but then I started studying its teachings about purgatory. This idea teaches that the soul, after physical death, is admitted to a place similar to prison, where it must be purified before going to paradise.
As I thought about suffering souls in purgatory, I reflected on my own spiritual future and my relationship with Jesus Christ. I began praying, “What must I do to escape purgatory? I want to go to paradise.”
The first thing that came to my mind was to live the Ten Commandments. I felt that if I did, the Lord’s grace would allow me to avoid purgatory. I committed to keep the commandments and began an intense period of fasting, praying, studying the scriptures, and meditating.
During this time, I felt prompted to ask an unusual question of a doctor at the clinic where I worked as chief accountant.
“Dr. Thibaut,” I said, “is the Lord Jesus Christ in your church?”
He stated that he belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. From that point on, the Spirit guided our discussion. I asked him about the differences between his church and mine. He told me about the Book of Mormon. As we continued our conversation, joy filled my heart. I felt that I was receiving answers to my prayers.
Two days later the missionaries gave me a Book of Mormon, which I read and studied with them. I found it wonderful to learn new things from the scriptures. I started obeying the Word of Wisdom.
When I realized I had lost interest in my church, where I had been so involved, I wondered what was happening. I prayed and asked God about this new path. When I did, I felt more convinced of the truth I had found. I decided to join the Church, even though I knew I would face persecution.
Persecution did come, but the Lord strengthened me. I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the answer to my sincere prayer: “I want to go to paradise.” I know I can go there after I die if I remain faithful to the commandments of God.

Illustrations by Juan Caminador
Shannon was sitting in Primary. She was listening to Sister Tayson teach a lesson. The lesson was about following Jesus and Heavenly Father.
Sister Tayson put papers on the floor. The papers looked like stepping-stones. Each one was something that leads us closer to Heavenly Father. Sister Tayson read each one. They said:
“Be baptized.”
“Receive the Holy Ghost.”
“Go to the temple.”
Shannon frowned. She wasn’t old enough to do those things. But then Sister Tayson put down another step.
“Can you read this stone?” Sister Tayson asked Shannon.
Shannon was just learning to read. She looked at the paper stone and read, “Pray.” She thought about that.
“I can do that!” she said. She felt happy.
Sister Tayson smiled. “You can do lots of good things!”
She asked other children to read stepping-stones. They said:
“Say nice things.”
“Go to church.”
“Help with chores.”
Shannon felt better as Sister Tayson showed each step. She knew she could follow those steps. She didn’t have to wait to follow Jesus! She didn’t have to wait to follow Heavenly Father! And when she was older, she could do all of the things on the stepping-stones.

When I got home, I told Grandma all about camp. I told her it was the best Scout camp ever and that it was really fun being Bryant’s buddy. Grandma read Mosiah 2:17 to me. It says, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” She said that when I helped Bryant, I was serving God too. I’d never thought of it that way before, but I felt the Spirit tell me that it was true. It’s awesome that I could serve God and help my friend.

When I was six months old, my first sign was “milk” and, several weeks later, I verbally said “panda.” I am capable of hearing, yet my first language was American Sign Language. My mom had served an ASL mission and then continued to study sign language in school, and she wanted me to know it too.
Sign language has been an incredible blessing in my life. It’s allowed me to see and learn so much more than I would have without it. It brings people together. I love being able to teach people what I know through one-on-one teaching and giving presentations in school and in church. It’s also really fun to watch general conference and other Church videos in sign language with my mom.
Having sign language in my life has been an incredible testimony builder. I am able to get to know more children of God than I would without it, and it’s also a great tool to use as a service for others. I am grateful for this blessing in my life and for the amazing people I have been able to meet and learn from.
Israel H., Oregon, USA

One evening when I was 11 years old, I heard a commotion outside my window. I looked out the window, and in the street were newsboys carrying stacks of newspapers in their arms announcing the news that President George Albert Smith, the eighth President of the Church, had died. President Smith had been the only prophet I had known in my short time on earth. It was during his administration that I first felt the stirrings of a testimony, and even then I knew how important God’s prophets are. I had been taught in Primary and in my home by loving parents that President Smith was our earthly link to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, that They could talk to me through him. What an empowering concept for a young girl! The Spirit had confirmed in my 11-year-old mind that this was true. When I learned of his death, I felt a tremendous loss.
However, just five days after President Smith’s death, President David O. McKay stood in this tabernacle and spoke to those assembled. He had just been unanimously sustained as the prophet, seer, and revelator by the Saints. As he brushed back the tears, he said, “No one can preside over the church without first being in tune with the head of the Church, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is our head. This is his church. … With his guidance, with his inspiration, we cannot fail.”
I quickly came to love and revere President McKay just as I had loved and revered President Smith. In fact, I remember seeing him stand at this pulpit, with his white hair gleaming, and thinking he looked just like an angel.

One of the trials that our family endured was when my oldest brother got sick and, after a while, died. It was really hard for us at first, but our family was able to overcome that trial. Because our family was sealed in the temple, we know that we will be with my brother again and with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ when the right time comes.
I know that this trial was one of the ways the Lord prepared us for other trials—to help us become stronger. Everyone has trials to endure, and our Heavenly Father knows we can overcome them. So we shouldn’t lose hope.
Carmila R., age 18, Southern Tagalog, Philippines

In our family there are only three of us, my younger brother, my mother, and me. My brother and I decided to prepare ourselves to go on missions. We had to save our money because my mom did not have any money to help us.
A lot of trials came to us. One day a typhoon in our province caused a big coconut tree to fall down on our house, and our small house was destroyed. My brother and I used the money we had saved for our missions to rebuild our house. We had to start saving our money again.
A few months later I contracted malaria. I had to go to the hospital, so my mission money had to be spent again.
Discouraged about saving for a mission, I prayed to God and fasted to overcome the trial. Then our Father in Heaven helped me, and I was able to earn the money I needed.
One of my favorite scriptures is a simple verse: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you” (3 Ne. 13:33). That verse is very encouraging to me. I have overcome trials and challenges in my life because of my faith and desire to go on a mission.
My brother and I are both serving missions now. I know God helps His children if we do His will.

Mary anxiously shifted back and forth in her seat as she listened to the other children in her Primary class take turns reading from the scriptures. She hoped her turn would never come.
Mary had a learning disability called dyslexia. When she looked at letters on a page, they seemed to run around and switch places. When she read out loud, her words were slow and sometimes out of order. Often she read words that weren’t there at all.
The closer Mary’s turn came, the more scared she was. When it was finally her turn, Mary couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said suddenly as she jumped up from her chair, sending her scriptures tumbling to the floor. Mary ran down the hallway to the bathroom. She was glad it was empty. She stood in the corner and began to cry.
A few minutes later, she heard Sister Smith call her name as she came into the bathroom. “Mary, what’s wrong?”
Mary didn’t know what to say. She was so embarrassed. None of the other children had this problem. “I can’t read!” she cried as she tucked her head into her folded arms.
“You can’t read?” Sister Smith asked, puzzled. “I’ve seen you give talks in Primary. I know you can read.”
Mary shook her head. “I memorize my talks. I practice them over and over so I don’t have to try to read them in front of people. I can’t read out loud, and when I do, I make lots of mistakes. I don’t want the other kids to laugh at me.”
“Oh, Mary, I’m sorry. I won’t call on you to read out loud until I know you’re ready,” Sister Smith said. “And I don’t believe anyone in our class will laugh at you. They are your friends.”
“Kids at school laugh at me,” Mary whispered.
Sister Smith wiped Mary’s tears away. “Come back to class. You’ll see,” she said.
They walked back to the classroom together. Mary’s friend Betsy sat in the chair next to Mary’s, smoothing the ruffled pages of Mary’s scriptures. Mary sat down, and Betsy handed her scriptures back to her.
“Who would like to read next?” Sister Smith asked.
“It’s Mary’s turn,” a boy in the class said.
Mary hesitated, but she looked around at her classmates and saw their kind smiles. Sister Smith nodded and smiled too. Mary was nervous, but she found her place and began to read.
Her words came slowly. She made some mistakes, but when she got stuck, Betsy quietly whispered the right word in Mary’s ear. Mary did not read as well as the other kids in her class, but no one laughed or made fun of her. Then it was someone else’s turn, and the lesson went on.
As they walked to the Primary room after class, Sister Smith whispered to Mary that she was proud of her. Mary was glad she didn’t have to try to hide her trouble reading anymore. “I’ll just keep practicing,” she thought. And she smiled, knowing she had good friends at church to support her along the way.

In the mid-1960s, missionaries working in the Magdalena section of Lima, Peru, enjoyed stopping at Teresa Gai’s small store for a cold drink and cheerful chat. The little bodega occupied less than 75 square meters, and the shelves on its walls were stocked with a limited variety of canned and packaged foods. To its owner, the visits of the gregarious missionaries brought back memories of happier times.

Before World War II, Teresa’s family had enjoyed a comfortable living in their native Italy. For a year, Teresa had been the equivalent of today’s Miss Italy. But the government confiscated the family’s properties, and they were forced to flee their beloved homeland. Teresa eventually found her way to Peru, where she was married and bore a son. In time, Teresa’s husband passed away, and her only son married and left home.

Teresa busied herself by operating her bodega, with its modest two-room apartment in the rear, from early morning until late in the evening seven days a week. She welcomed the opportunity to befriend and offer moral support to the missionaries, who were far from their homes. And the missionaries welcomed the opportunity to share their gospel message with Teresa.

As the missionaries began to teach Teresa, she felt the spirit of their message. But she was troubled about whether she could keep the Sabbath day holy. Sunday, after all, was a big day for her little bodega. The missionaries encouraged her to attend church with them, but she resisted, not wanting to commit to closing her business on Sunday. After much thought, she promised, “I will go to church with you next Sunday.”

A few days later, much to her distress, Teresa realized she had promised to close her bodega and go to church the day before New Year’s—her biggest, most profitable business day of the year! She had already planned to close on New Year’s Day, which meant her store would be closed for two profitable days, only to open on Tuesday, her least productive day of the week.

She wondered how she could get out of her commitment, but to Teresa Gai, a promise was a promise. She closed the store and went to church with the missionaries. She enjoyed the services but couldn’t help thinking about the people going elsewhere to buy food for their New Year’s Eve gatherings.

Sunday afternoon and evening, from her little apartment in the rear, she could hear her customers knocking on the steel roll-down door over the front of her store. It was hard to ignore them. People depended on her. Would they understand? Would they ever come back to her bodega? With no income for two days, where would she find the money to restock her shelves that week?

With considerable apprehension, Teresa opened her bodega Tuesday morning. To her amazement, she had sold more goods and taken in more money by the end of the day than she had on any other single day since opening her store. She felt strongly that the Lord had blessed her because she had kept his day holy. Teresa never again opened her bodega on Sunday.

Partway through a worn notebook of Teresa’s daily sales, a heavy line is drawn across the page. Daily totals after the line show a significant increase.

“That line marks the day I was baptized,” Teresa said years later through tears. She was especially grateful for her testimony of the restored gospel and the many spiritual blessings that enriched her life after she joined the Church.

Following her baptism, Sister Gai immediately plunged into Church activity with her characteristic enthusiasm and willingly accepted callings to serve. In the gospel she found great joy, which she radiated and which buoyed the spirits of those around her, including the missionaries who served in her section of Lima. Considering all the treats she gave the missionaries, it is a wonder she stayed in business.

In 1986 Sister Gai attended the dedication of the Lima Peru Temple. The temple gave her one last opportunity to give unselfishly to others. Sister Gai, then nearly 80 years old, gratefully accepted a calling to be a worker in the beautiful new temple.

President Hinckley himself is not intimidated by a difficult task. As newlyweds, the Hinckleys moved into the Hinckley farmhouse—a summer home with no furnace. Kathy says, “Dad approached this problem the way we would see him solve many others—head-on. He ordered a furnace and began reading the installation instructions. The furnace worked perfectly. He’s wanted us to take on challenges using the same approach—decide on what you want, follow the instructions carefully, and work at it.”

On an afternoon a few months ago, Susan and I inventoried our food storage and emergency supplies. At the time, COVID-19 was spreading rapidly, and a series of earthquakes had jolted our home in Utah. We have worked since the earliest days of our marriage to follow prophetic counsel about preparing for unforeseen challenges, so “examining” our state of readiness in the midst of the virus and earthquakes seemed like a good and timely thing to do. We wanted to find out our grades on these unannounced tests.
We learned a great deal. In many areas, our preparatory work was just right. In some other areas, however, improvement was necessary because we had not recognized and addressed particular needs in timely ways.
We also laughed a lot. We discovered, for example, items in a remote closet that had been in our food storage for decades. Frankly, we were afraid to open and inspect some of the containers for fear of unleashing another global pandemic! But you should be happy to know that we properly disposed of the hazardous materials and that health risk to the world was eliminated.

Salote:
Two years after our son Esa died of lung cancer, our daughter Esalynn died of meningitis. In the temple, I felt a strong prompting to speak with a senior sister missionary there who also lost two children years earlier. She told me, “If you make your home a holy place, you can feel your children’s presence there.”
That has become our goal. Everything we do is to make our home a holy place. We want to feel them close.
We don’t know how to parent children beyond the veil. But if we do our best to live righteously, we believe they will feel our efforts. In our family devotionals, we welcome Esa and Esalynn by name.
In our home, even when we have a disagreement, we try to resolve it quickly. We want our home to stay a holy place as much as possible. As we’ve done so, we have all felt hope and healing and love.
Sakiusa:
The experience of losing Esa and Esalynn has ultimately brought our family closer together. We counsel together with our other children. We attend the temple as a family. We live our lives as simple as possible and choose gratitude every day. As we talk about what it means to be sealed as a family in the temple, that sealing becomes alive in us. And through all of this, we do feel the presence of our children.
One of the first things we did to make our home holier was to start reading the Book of Mormon daily. At first, we shared Book of Mormon stories with pictures for our younger children. Then we added videos. Now we’re reading more from the Book of Mormon. I can testify of the power of the Book of Mormon.

I gazed upon the many rows of black marble stones standing in haunting stillness among the beautiful gardens of the Okinawa Peace Memorial Park in Itoman, Okinawa, Japan. Engraved with over 200,000 names, these stones commemorate those who lost their lives during the Battle of Okinawa during World War II.
Walking toward the parking lot at the conclusion of our visit, my wife and I noticed that our toddler no longer held his favorite yellow truck. When we asked him where it was, he led us back to the main monument. He had neatly placed his truck by a bouquet of flowers donated by other visitors. With shining eyes and a huge smile, our son showed us his own contribution to the memorial.
Driving home, we pondered his selfless choice. Did he recognize the special spirit of that place and feel compelled to give his most prized possession? What worth could a plastic truck add to the honor and memorial of those who had lost their lives here?