Gospel Story Finder

My name is Garrett. Something weird happened to me today. I got a lot of bumps on my arms, but I wasn’t even cold. In fact it was a really warm day. Mom said I got the bumps because I liked the violin music we were listening to so much. I think she’s right. Otherwise, why would I have a poster of a famous violin player hanging in my room?
Guess what! Mom and Dad said I could take violin lessons! I’m so excited for my first lesson. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Redman. I’ll meet her tomorrow. I can hardly believe I’m going to learn to play the violin!
I still want to play the violin, but why does it have to be so hard? I wish I could play as well as the violinist on my wall. Mom says I should just be my own best self and not compare myself with anybody else. Besides, I haven’t been taking lessons that long.
I’m getting a little better at the violin, but I still get pretty frustrated sometimes. Dad says it takes time to develop a talent. He says Heavenly Father gives us all different gifts. That’s another word for talents. Some people are good at singing or listening or other stuff. Dad says God wants us to work on our talents so we can help other people.
Today at my lesson, Mrs. Redman said the biggest part of getting better is to practice, practice, practice. She said we have to take care of our talents the same way a farmer takes care of the crops in his fields. That way, they will grow. She said, “If a farmer didn’t tend his crops every day, they wouldn’t grow well at all.” I think she’s probably right.
Mom and Dad said I’m sounding pretty good on the violin. I wonder if they said that just to make me feel better so I won’t give up. Because it’s funny how when I practice, they find a reason to go somewhere else—like outside or down the street.
Tonight I played the violin in front of the whole ward. It was for our talent show. I was so nervous. When I played “I Am a Child of God,” I saw Sister Palmer crying. Then I saw Mom wiping her eyes too. I thought maybe it was because I was playing so badly.
Afterward Sister Palmer came up to me. She said I played the song so beautifully it made her cry. Mom said her tears were happy tears. Dad hugged me so hard I thought I was going to burst.
I’m still working on the violin. I practice almost every day. I know I can get better at it. I want to make my talent grow so I can be my own best self. Maybe someday I can even play in a real concert hall.

Welfare services missionaries were assigned by the branch president to visit the home of every newly baptized family. In carrying out this assignment, the missionaries often found emergency teaching situations.

For example, one day upon entering the home of a newly baptized member, they were greeted by the mother, who invited them to sit own and then began to cry. Her baby was sick. Its stomach was badly bloated.

Upon investigation, it was found that the child had never had anything to eat except flour and water or powdered milk. For eight months the mother had been afraid to give the baby any other food because it was so sick, and it was sick because it was starving!

The missionaries taught the mother how to include cereals, fruits, and vegetables in the child’s diet. Now the child is on the road to normal health.

In May, 2009, Kelsey Briggs of Bend, Oregon, received her Young Womanhood Recognition at the same time as her grandmother, Jeanie Bean. Then, just under a year later, Kelsey’s mother, Cindy Briggs, received her recognition: it was three generations of women in the same family in the same ward growing spiritually—and growing together.
Kelsey, who fulfilled her Good Works project by serving about two hours a week for two years as a “big sister” at the local Boys & Girls club, said, “This program has been enlightening for all three of us. It’s a lot of work, but the rewards are great.”
Kelsey’s mother, who is a Young Women leader in her ward, said, “When I received the new materials and booklets last year I was determined to finish up the Personal Progress program, not only to satisfy my own objective but to set an example for the girls I’m privileged to work with in our ward, and keep pace with my own daughter and mother.”

That upward reach, drawn from a knowledge of divine doctrines, transforms souls! May I share an illustration with you? Once, Sister Nelson and I were invited to the humble home of Polynesian Saints who had relatively recently joined the Church. By walking carefully on wooden planks, we approached their house, built on wooden piles emerging from the floor of the sea. We climbed a ladder to enter their little one-room dwelling. As we were invited to be seated on freshly woven grass mats, we could peek through holes in the floor and view sea water below. That home was starkly devoid of furniture, except for a used sewing machine provided by sisters of the Relief Society. But the love and warmth of this special family were apparent as our visit continued.

“We would like to sing for you,” the father said through an interpreter. He put one arm about his wife and the other about the children, as did his wife. Five little ones, dressed in newly sewn clothing, joined their parents in singing songs the father had composed.

Concluding, he said: “These songs express our feelings of deep gratitude. Before we joined the Church, we had so little. Now we have so much!”

While wiping tears from our moistened cheeks, Sister Nelson and I looked at each other, comprehending that the gospel brings spiritual wealth which may bear little relation, at first, to tangible abundance. Conversely, people with plenty can be spiritually poor. Yet the Lord is concerned for them all!

Illustration by Greg Stevenson
Shortly after I was hired as the assistant director of a large library, my team and I began an ambitious project to digitize 37,000 books. One day my supervisor called me into his office.
“Edouard,” he said, “I’ve been invited to present our book digitization project in the United States and to solicit some new acquisitions. I’ve been asked to bring a trusted co-worker with me. I have confidence in you but not in your church. If you renounce your faith, you can come with me.”
Before I could say anything, he told me to think about it and then dismissed me.
That evening, I shared with my wife what had happened. She encouraged me to have faith. The next day, I told my supervisor that I would keep my faith. He was angry and said he’d just travel alone.
A year later, I had an opportunity to travel to France to receive training in library funding, acquisitions, and management. I just needed my supervisor’s approval. He said he would approve only if I denounced my faith. I again declined. He then tore up the document and threw it in my face. Some time later my supervisor approached me again.
“I am about to leave on another trip,” he said. “You can come with me, but the condition remains the same. I will never travel with a member of your church.”
“I will not reject my faith,” I said. He left without saying a word. Soon he began to talk about me to my colleagues.
“I have offered him opportunities,” he’d say. “But he has exhausted them all because of his blind faith. He is a fool.”
From then on, I became the object of mockery and contempt at work. I felt beaten down. One evening, preoccupied with this problem, I opened the Bible and read, “If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell” (Matthew 5:29).
If the Lord says we should get rid of something in order to save ourselves, why was I hanging on to a job that had become a danger to my spiritual well-being? The next day, I handed in my resignation.
Today, I rejoice in this choice. With courage and faith in Jesus Christ, I faced humiliation at work and temporary unemployment. My new job now provides opportunities unavailable to me before. The Lord has blessed me, and I thank Him for His kindness and His love toward me.

Illustration by Joel Castillo
“Do you believe in God?” one of my new co-workers asked me.
“Yes, why?”
“Because Mr. Lee* doesn’t,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t get into an argument with him about the existence of God. You’ll lose.”
It was my first day on the job at a drive-in movie theater in Arizona, USA. I’d just graduated from high school and wanted to make some money for my education and my mission, not get in a debate with an atheist boss. I took my co-worker’s advice.
My co-worker and most of the other employees, on the other hand, did believe in God. But that didn’t stop them from swearing, eating food from the snack bar without paying for it, and smoking marijuana after work.
I never joined them in any of those activities, and it didn’t take long before they wanted to know why. I told them I was a Latter-day Saint, I told them about the Word of Wisdom, and I told them I was preparing to serve a mission for my Church. They didn’t make fun of me, but they did start to call me “The Reverend.”
One night when Mr. Lee was off, another employee and I ran the cash register at the snack bar. That night after the snack bar had closed and we’d added up all the money from the register, the assistant manager told us we had $100 more than what the cash register receipts said we should have.
“There’s no record of this $100,” he said. “So it looks like we each make an extra $33 tonight.”
I didn’t feel right accepting the cash, but I put it in my pocket anyway. The longer the money stayed there, the worse I felt. About half an hour later I approached the assistant manager.
“The money may be unaccounted for,” I told him, “but it isn’t mine.” Then I handed it back.
The following week Mr. Lee called me into his office. I was hoping he didn’t want to talk about God, but actually he did. He asked some questions about the Church and my beliefs. After I’d answered, he said something that surprised me.
“You appear to be the only worker at the drive-in I can trust,” he said. “I’d like to ask a favor, and I’d like to give you some extra work.”
He told me that the other employees were, in his words, “stealing me blind.” He asked me to keep setting a good example for them and to encourage them to be honest. Then he gave me some extra after-hour security duties he didn’t trust the other workers to do. Those extra duties meant more money for college and my mission.
I didn’t ask Mr. Lee if the money I’d been given the week before was a test. But obviously, the assistant manager told him what had happened. I was just glad I’d been honest. I was also glad my boss knew that my belief in God and my participation at church had influenced my actions.
Through that experience, I learned for myself that “being honest will enhance your future opportunities and your ability to be guided by the Holy Ghost” (For the Strength of Youth [2011], 19).
I quit the drive-in job at the end of the summer and left for college. When I returned home during Thanksgiving vacation, I went to the drive-in one night to watch a movie and to say hello to my former co-workers. During the movie, one of them announced over the drive-in speakers: “Reverend Morris, please report to the snack bar. Reverend Morris, your congregation would like to see you.”
We had a fun reunion, and I was glad I’d left everyone with a positive impression. I’m especially grateful, though, that my honest behavior had made a believer out of my boss.

A few months after my change of heart, my future wife, Malaina, came into my life and our courtship began. I was grateful to now be ready for our future together. Dating Malaina was really like a fairy-tale dream come true! Both of us had been hurt by past relationships, and we found love and understanding in each other. We both wanted with all our hearts to be worthy of a temple marriage. Six months after we started dating, we were sealed in the Seattle Washington Temple.
Heavenly Father blessed me with a loving wife who understands the power of Jesus Christ’s Atonement and what it means to be cleansed through repentance. Malaina loves me for the man I am today and not for the mistakes of my past. Her personal testimony and love of the Savior continually gives me strength and a desire to fulfill the full measure of my creation. She is truly the companion I always dreamed of having, and together we’ve been blessed with two children.

My mother was a recent convert to the Church when she was called to be the Relief Society president in our small branch in San Salvador. She told the branch president that she was inexperienced, unprepared, and inadequate. She was in her 30s, had very little formal education, and her whole life had been devoted to the care of her husband and seven children. But the branch president called her anyway.
I watched my mother rise to the occasion. While serving, she learned leadership skills and developed new gifts such as teaching, public speaking, and planning and organizing meetings, activities, and service projects. She influenced the women in the branch. She served them and taught them to serve one another. The sisters loved and respected her. She helped other women to discover, use, and develop gifts and talents; she helped them become builders of the kingdom and of strong, spiritual families. She stayed faithful to the temple covenants she made. When she passed away, she was at peace with her Maker.
A sister who served with her as a counselor in the Relief Society wrote me a letter years later: “Your mother was the person who taught me the way to become what I am now. From her, I learned charity, kindness, honesty, and responsibility in our callings. She was my mentor and my example. I am now 80 years old, but I have stayed faithful to the Savior and His gospel. I have served a mission, and the Lord has blessed me greatly.”

Here is an inspiring story that demonstrates how one family made peacemaking a family affair, putting these principles into practice.
Children in this family were struggling in their relationship with an adult whose demeanor was often grumpy, condescending, and curt. The children, hurt and frustrated, began to wonder if the only way forward was to mirror that same mean-spirited behavior.
One evening the family spoke openly together about the tension and the toll it was taking. And then an idea emerged—not just a solution but an experiment.
Instead of responding with silence or retaliation, the children would do something unexpected: they would respond with kindness. Not just polite restraint but a deliberate, heartfelt outpouring of kind words and thoughtful deeds, no matter how they were treated in return. All agreed to try it for a set time, after which they’d regroup and reflect.
Though some were hesitant at first, they committed to the plan with genuine hearts.
What happened next was nothing short of remarkable.
The cold exchanges began to thaw. Smiles replaced scowls. The adult, once distant and harsh, began to change. The children, empowered by their choice to lead with love, found joy in the transformation. The change was so profound that the planned follow-up meeting was never needed. Kindness had done its quiet work.
In time, true bonds of friendship were formed, lifting everyone. To be peacemakers, we forgive others and deliberately build others up instead of tearing them down.

“Can your family come caroling with us on Thursday night?” Sarah asked. “We’ll sing at a nursing home and have hot chocolate and cookies afterward.”
Caitlyn shook her head. “I wish we could! But our family’s going to an ice-skating party that night.”
Caitlyn liked ice-skating, but she was tired of having every night in December filled. After school she talked to Mom about it. “I really want to go caroling with Sarah, but every night is so busy. I feel like there’s not even time to think about Christmas!”
Mom nodded. “I know what you mean.” She ticked off items on her fingers. “Ice-skating party. School program. Service project.”
“All those things are good,” Caitlyn said with a frown. “How do we decide which ones to do?”
“I’ll talk to Dad,” Mom said. “Maybe we should have a family meeting about this.”
After dinner that night, Mom brought the family calendar to the table. “Caitlyn and I have been talking about how busy December is,” Mom said. “We’ve decided that we’re going to unschedule Christmas!”
“But we have to have Christmas!” seven-year-old Ben said. “That’s when we celebrate Jesus’s birth.”
“I don’t mean getting rid of Christmas,” Mom said with a smile. “We just need to clear out some of the things leading up to it. We’re so busy these next few weeks that we haven’t made time to focus on Christ and family.”
Dad opened up the family calendar. “So let’s talk about what will really help us focus on Christ this Christmas season. First off, the ice-skating party or caroling with Sarah’s family?”
“Skating sounds fun,” Caitlyn said, “but I’d rather go caroling. I bet singing at the nursing home would really help us all focus on Christ.”
“Sounds like a good choice to me,” Dad said with a smile. “We can go ice-skating another time.”
“Yay! I love caroling!” Ben said.
“OK,” Mom said. “That’s four votes for going with Sarah’s family.” She put an X through the skating party and wrote in “caroling.”
One by one, the family went through each item on the calendar, crossing off some and writing in others. They marked some nights as family nights to stay home and do things together. Other nights they made sure that what they had planned would focus on Christ.
“Can we make a gingerbread house?” Ben asked. “The old-fashioned kind?”
“I think that can be arranged,” Mom said.
“And let’s act out the Nativity! We can’t forget that,” Caitlyn said.
Mom wrote it on the calendar. “This way we’ll be sure we made room for it.”
Thursday night, Caitlyn and her family went caroling with Sarah’s family. “This is so neat,” Caitlyn said to Sarah as the families sang song after song at the nursing home. “Everyone looks so happy to see us.”
The families made a plan to come sing next month. And maybe next Christmas too!

One day my father, who was bishop of our ward, left my brother and me to do some work. We thought he would be gone for some time doing his church work. But he returned sooner than we had expected and found us riding calves.
When he called us over, I will never forget how he looked at me and said, “My boy, I thought I could depend on you!”
That was a great lesson, a severe punishment, to me. I made up my mind then that neither he nor anyone else would ever have reason to say that again to me as long as I lived.

Our house is far from the Church building, so my sister and I have to plan ahead to get to our meetings on time (or early, hopefully)!
We wake up at 4:00 a.m. and walk to my aunt’s house, which is on the way to the Church building. We change from our walking clothes into our dresses. Then we walk again for another 30 minutes to get to the Church building (or sometimes 25 minutes if we walk really fast). Because we prepare for Sundays ahead of time, we’re never late! Well, almost never. The road gets really muddy when it rains. One time it rained so much that I got stuck in the mud and couldn’t move!
But it’s all worth it once we get to church. I feel peace and joy talking about the gospel and spreading the glad tidings of our Savior. I love sharing my testimony every fast and testimony meeting! My Sunday School classes are also a great place to share my insights about the gospel of Jesus Christ and learn from others too.

The initial rejections I received in my courtship with Christiane made me a little discouraged. I had just about decided to begin a fruitful career as a young single adult in the Church, but one day I had a special spiritual impression. I was participating in an ordinance in the Swiss Temple when I heard a voice in my heart saying something to this effect: “Erich, if you do not seriously strive to marry and enter into the new and everlasting covenant, all these teachings and promised blessings really make no difference for you.” It was a wake-up call that I received at the young age of 21, and from that moment I tried even harder to be worthy of that blessing.

Once I was invited by a civic organization to present an award of recognition to the person who had done the most to help handicapped people in the area. When the honored lady, who was herself severely handicapped, came to the podium to receive her award, she walked between two stalwart men assisting her, with another wheeling an oxygen tank on a carrier behind her, helping her to breathe.
She protested her unworthiness but accepted the award on behalf of all others who had been helpful to the handicapped. She told how her saintly father had prepared her for her first day at school and then left his office to come home to meet her when she returned. He had prepared her to expect some disagreeable comments from a few who could not handle her physical appearance—the humped back and other problems. These birth difficulties, he had assured her, were no one’s fault—they were the consequence of problems not yet solved in this imperfect and sometimes unfair world. “But,” said he, “if you will always be more fair and more kind to others than a few of them may sometimes be to you, you will enjoy every sweet blessing life affords.”
That was her one qualification, she said: she had tried to be more fair and more kind to others than a few of them had sometimes been to her.

The temple closest to me is the Mesa Arizona Temple. Every month, my school has early-release days. Last year, my friends and I started a new tradition on early-release days where we would wear our Sunday clothes to school, go out for lunch, and then attend the temple to do baptisms for the dead. It’s definitely helped me gain a deeper understanding of the temple, of what it means, and of how important it is. Regularly visiting the temple has helped me feel the Spirit more often. It’s definitely brought my friends closer to one another. Also, a lot of our classmates ask about our temple trips because they notice that at least 10 of us always dress up for early-release days. This attention encourages other youth to go to the temple too.

The construction of a temple in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, fulfilled a dream for Mónica Elena Fuentes Álvarez de Méndez. She is the daughter of a pioneer in the Church who instilled in her a love of the gospel and all its blessings. Her mother, Magda Ester Álvarez, was baptized in 1953, six years after Latter-day Saint missionaries first arrived in Guatemala.
Mónica grew up in the Church and eventually married a good man, Enio Méndez, who was not a member. He supported his wife and daughter in Church activities and admired its members, but he showed no interest in being baptized. Nevertheless, Mónica remembers her mother telling her that one day her husband would become a member. “I never lost faith,” she says, even though she had no idea what could bring about his conversion.
Her mother enjoyed the blessings of periodic visits to the temple in Guatemala City and was filled with joy in 2006 when a temple was announced for Quetzaltenango. But Magda Álvarez suffered from a terminal illness and passed away in 2008, before the temple in Quetzaltenango could be built.
Mónica and her young adult daughter, Mónica Esther Méndez Fuentes, served together as guides during the open house for the Quetzaltenango Temple. Enio attended the open house with them, and unbeknownst to them, he went back two more times.
Leaving the temple together on the last day of the open house, Mónica and her daughter wondered if Magda Álvarez’s prediction about Enio could ever come true.
Enio had always believed it was acceptable for him to be a member of his church and his wife and daughter to be members of theirs so long as they respected each other’s beliefs. But his experiences at the temple open house gave him much to think about. “I began to fast, without saying anything to them, and to pray,” he recalls. He went into the mountains, where he likes to go to ponder. “I asked the Lord, ‘What should I do, then?’” In fact, he already knew what was right, but he needed to resolve doubts.
Enio was baptized in April 2012—a deeply moving occasion for both his wife and his daughter.
The Méndez family was sealed in the Quetzaltenango Temple in October 2013. Sister Méndez expressed their joy at an eternal goal achieved and their hope to be faithful until the end of their lives.

The first thing you can do is talk to them. It may not be easy at first, but it will be worth it. “My dad and I talked,” says a high school student I know, “but we never really sat down and had serious talks about what’s going on in my life, about problems I had, or things I wanted to accomplish. As a matter of fact, the first time I ever had a serious talk with my dad was when he was bishop and had to interview me on my birthday.
“That interview really helped me see that I could improve our communication if I met him halfway. Things didn’t change overnight, but since then, he and I both have tried harder to find the time to sit down together once in a while and talk.”

I continued my services in the parish, but my preaching was mixed with the new words of the book. The members of my congregation were so interested that they became dissatisfied with my colleagues’ sermons. When members began leaving the chapel during their sermons and remained when I occupied the pulpit, my colleagues became angry with me.
The beginning of real discord began Christmas Eve, 1910. In my sermon that evening, I told the story of the birth and mission of Jesus Christ as given in my new book. When I had finished, some of my colleagues publicly contradicted all I had said. They denounced me and turned me over to the Committee of Censure for disciplinary action.
When I appeared before this committee, the members gave what they supposed to be fatherly advice. They counseled me to burn the book, which they said was of the devil, since it had caused so much trouble and had destroyed the harmony of the pastoral brothers. I replied, “I will not burn the book because of the fear of God. I have asked him if it were true, and my prayer was answered affirmatively and absolutely, which I feel again in my soul as I defend his cause now.” I felt then that the day would come when the source of the book would be known to me and I would be able to enjoy the effects of the faith that led me to solemnly resist the Committee of Censure.
Not until 1914 was I once again brought before the council. A church official spoke in a friendly way, suggesting that the sharp words at the previous hearing may have provoked me, which was regrettable, since they all loved me. However, he said, I must remember that obedience is the rule and that I must burn the book.
I could not deny the words of the book nor burn it, since in so doing I would offend God. I said that I looked forward with joy to the time when the church to which the book belonged would be made known to me and I could become part of it. “Enough! Enough!” the official cried. He then read the decision, of the council:
I was to lose my position as a pastor of the church and of every right and privilege I had previously enjoyed.
In November 1914, I was back in my native Italy, and called to serve in the Italian army and fought in France. Once I told some men in my company the story of the people of Ammon—how they had refused to shed the blood of their brothers and had buried their weapons rather than be guilty of such great crimes. The chaplain reported me to the commanding officer, and the next day I was escorted to his office. He asked me to tell him the story I had told. Then he asked how I had come into possession of the book. I received as punishment a ten-day sentence of bread and water, with the order that I was to speak no more of the book.
After the end of the war, I returned to New York, where I met an old friend, a pastor of my former church. He interceded for me with the synod, and I was finally admitted to the congregation as a lay member. As an experiment, it was agreed that I should accompany one of the pastors on a mission to New Zealand and Australia.
In Australia, we met some Italian immigrants who asked questions about the errors in some Bible translations. They were not satisfied with my companion’s answers. When they asked me about it, I once again told the story of Christ’s appearance to the people of America. When they asked me where I had learned such teachings, I told them of the book I had found. The story was good to them but bad for my colleague. He reported me to the synod, and once again they cut me off from the church.
I returned to Italy shortly after. Then, in May 1930, while looking in a French dictionary for some information, I suddenly saw the entry “Mormon.” I read the words carefully and found that a Mormon Church had been established in 1830 and that this church operated a university at Provo [Brigham Young University, Utah]. I wrote to the university president, asking for information about the book and its missing pages. I received an answer two weeks later telling me that my letter had been passed on to the president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On June 16, 1930, President Heber J. Grant answered my letter and sent a copy of the Book of Mormon in Italian. He informed me that he would also give my request to Elder John A. Widtsoe, president of the European Mission, with headquarters in Liverpool, England. A few days later, Elder Widtsoe wrote to me, sending me a pamphlet that contained the story of the Prophet Joseph Smith, the gold plates, and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. Finally, I had learned the rest of the story of the torn book I had found on top of a barrel of ashes.
On June 5, 1932, Elder Widtsoe came to Naples to baptize me, but a revolution had started in Sicily, and the police at Palermo refused to let me leave the island. The following year, Elder Widtsoe asked me to translate the Joseph Smith pamphlet into Italian and to have 1,000 copies published. I took my translation to a printer, Joseph Gussio, who took the material to a Catholic bishop. The bishop ordered the printer to destroy the material. I sued the printer, but all I received from the court was an order to him to return the original booklet.
When Elder Widtsoe was released as president of the mission in 1934, I started correspondence with Elder Joseph F. Merrill, who succeeded him. He arranged to send me the Millennial Star, which I received until 1940 when World War II interrupted the subscription.
In January 1937, Elder Richard R. Lyman, successor to President Merrill, wrote that he and Elder Hugh B. Brown would be in Rome on a certain day. I could meet them there and be baptized. However, the letter was delayed because of war conditions, and I did not receive it in time.
From then until 1949, I was cut off from all news of the Church, but I remained a faithful follower and preached the gospel of the dispensation of the fulness of times. I had copies of the standard works, and I translated chapters into Italian and sent them to acquaintances with the greeting, “Good day. The morning breaks—Jehovah speaks!”
On February 13, 1949, I sent a letter to Elder Widtsoe at Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Elder Widtsoe answered my letter on October 3, 1950, explaining that he had been in Norway. I sent him a long letter in reply in which I asked him to help me to be quickly baptized, because I felt that I had proven myself to be a faithful son and servant of God, observing the laws and commandments of his kingdom. Elder Widtsoe asked President Samuel E. Bringhurst of the Swiss-Austrian Mission to go to Sicily to baptize me.
On January 18, 1951, President Bringhurst arrived on the island and baptized me at Imerese. Apparently, this was the first baptism performed in Sicily. Then, on April 28, 1956, I entered the temple at Bern, Switzerland, and received my endowment. At last, to be in the presence of my Heavenly Father! I felt that God’s promise had been fully fulfilled—the day had come indeed when the source of the book was known to me and I was able to enjoy the effects of my faith.

Some years ago I was serving as a bishop. At the same time I was working on a doctor’s degree at a university and working a full-time job. I was under some strain, fearing that because of my desire to succeed in so many areas I was really failing as a father.
One Sunday evening I stayed late at church to complete some work. As I walked into the chapel to turn off the lights before going home, I suddenly felt lonely. I felt that my back would not bear for another day the heavy burdens I was carrying.
I fell to my knees near the pulpit and cried to the Lord. I poured out the feelings of my soul to him and described in detail my seemingly insurmountable tasks. When I finished I remained kneeling. And then I heard the Spirit speak to me in my heart. The answer it gave me was all I needed. It said just three things: Go forward. Do your best. Love your family.
I arose a new man.

A few years ago when I was in Alaska, I met two elders. One had been converted about three years before in England and was now an excellent missionary.
The other elder was Jewish and had been converted only a year or two before. He said that one day, while he was at the beach in Santa Monica with some friends, he lay down to rest on a blanket. Another young fellow in the group—one whom he did not know well—came and sat by him. This stranger asked him if he would listen to an interesting story. The missionary then told me that for the first time in his life he heard about the Prophet Joseph Smith, the restoration of the gospel, and the Book of Mormon. He knew it was the truth and in a matter of three or four weeks he was ready to join the Church.
These two young missionaries in Alaska were heroes to me in a way. But the real hero was the boy on the beach in Santa Monica who had the courage to bear his testimony and tell that great story that changed the life of a fine young man.