Gospel Story Finder

“So it has been all through my life. If I have undertaken to do anything, and the Lord has wanted me to do something else, He has had to tell me. When we were sent to England, we were sent by revelation. I went into the Staffordshire potteries with Brother Alfred Cordon. We were doing a splendid work, baptizing almost every night, and I thought it was the finest mission I ever was on. I went into the town of Hanley one night, and attended meeting in a large hall, which was filled to overflowing. The Spirit of the Lord came upon me and said that that was the last meeting I should hold with that people for many days. I told the people that that was the last meeting I should be with them. After the meeting, they asked me where I was going. I told them I did not know. In the morning I asked the Lord what He wanted of me. He merely said, ‘Go to the south.’ I got into the stage and rode eighty miles. The first man’s house I stopped at was John Benbow’s in Herefordshire. In half an hour after I entered the house I knew exactly why the Lord had sent me. There was a people there who had been praying for the ancient order of things. They were waiting for the Gospel as it was taught by Christ and His Apostles. The consequence was, the first thirty days after I got there I baptized six hundred of those people. In eight month’s labor in that country I brought eighteen hundred into the Church. Why? Because there was a people prepared for the Gospel, and the Lord sent me there to do that work. I have always had to give God the glory for everything good that has happened to me; for I have realized by what power it came.” (Deseret Weekly, 7 Nov. 1896, p. 643.)

I learned a great lesson from my father about priesthood authority and power.
I grew up in a home with a faithful mother and a wonderful father. My dad was not a member of our church but still came to Church meetings with our family. He coached our ward softball team and helped with Scout activities.
As a boy I asked my dad many times each week when he was going to be baptized. My father replied each time, “David, I will join the Church when I know it’s the right thing to do.”
One Sunday I asked my dad when he was going to be baptized. He just smiled and asked me a question. “David, your church teaches that the priesthood was taken from the earth anciently and has been restored by heavenly messengers. Why are so many of the men in your church no different about doing their priesthood duty than the men in my church?”
My mind went blank. I had no answer for my dad.
I knew that men who hold the priesthood should act differently than other men. Priesthood holders should not only receive priesthood authority but also be faithful and worthy to exercise God’s power.
I decided I never wanted to be a poor example to my father. I simply wanted to be a good boy. The Lord needs all of us who hold the priesthood to be honorable, virtuous, and good boys at all times and in all places.
A number of years later, my father was baptized. I had the opportunity to confer upon him the Aaronic and the Melchizedek priesthoods. One of the great experiences of my life was seeing my dad receive the authority and the power of the priesthood.

Lee went into the army the summer after he graduated. He soon found out what homesickness is all about. He wrote home every day, and Mom cried when she read his letters. She asked him to find out if there was an LDS ward he could attend. We prayed for him and encouraged him to pray too. My grandmother had given Lee a Bible as a graduation present, and for some reason he had packed it when he left. It turned out that religious books were the only reading material allowed on base. When Lee told my mother that, she sent him a copy of the Book of Mormon. Shortly after that, we started getting letters from Lee saying how much he enjoyed the scriptures and that he was reading them aloud to other soldiers. Of course my mother cried some more. Mom asked Lee if he wanted to take the missionary discussions. But Lee wrote and told us he had already asked the bishop to set up the discussions. He was baptized when he came home on leave. Mom cried then too.

About five years ago, our family received the sad news of my mother’s illness. She was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis, a disease where her lungs gradually dry out and the body’s oxygen capacity is reduced until she can no longer breathe. The only way this disease can be cured is through a lung transplant, which is very expensive and not everyone is eligible.
From the beginning, despite being diagnosed with the disease, my mother went through very difficult times with a diminished quality of life. Even though the doctors gave little hope that she would qualify for a transplant, because her weak heart could not withstand the operation, my father and my siblings and I never lost faith. The doctors weren’t sure that she would make it through the night and asked us to get ready with funeral arrangements. One of the doctors who treated my mother always saw my father or a priesthood holder give her a blessing of health during the most difficult moments of her illness, and this was no exception. He was not a member of the Church, but he knew that those prayers had a power that he could not describe. The doctor joined in prayer with great faith, hearing and seeing how powerful prayers were.
And that night the miracle happened. My mother made it through the night. She got better over time and walked out of the hospital. I cannot imagine all the love of Jesus Christ that that doctor could feel. I am sure that this experience that he lived thanks to a difficult test of a patient and an example of faith of family, friends, and siblings, even my mother, helped to know and obtain the testimony that Jesus Christ is a living God who works miracles.
Although my mother died four years later from this disease, she was a great example of teaching and love for God, she prepared the family for her future departure, she strengthened doctors, nurses, my father, their children and grandchildren, brothers and sisters in the Church and everyone who ministered to her.

“Time to get up,” Mom called cheerfully.
I rolled over and pretended I didn’t hear her. That’s what I do when I don’t want to get up.
Mom didn’t give up. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” she called. “Anyone who wants to eat had better hurry.”
That got my brother going. “Come on,” Devon said, giving my bed a shake.
“I’m not hungry,” I muttered.
“Suit yourself.” He headed for the kitchen.
It was true. I wasn’t hungry. In fact, my stomach kind of ached. Maybe I should tell Mom I’m sick, I thought. That’s it—I’m sick and need to stay home.
A few minutes later I got my chance.
“Devon says you’re not hungry.” Mom sat down on the edge of my bed. “Are you feeling all right?” She put her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“I’m not sick,” I answered truthfully, “but I don’t feel so good.”
At first Mom looked puzzled, then she understood. “Are you nervous about your talk?”
“I’m not just nervous,” I said. “I was nervous last night when I went to bed. Then I dreamed that when I got up to give my talk I couldn’t find my notes, and I couldn’t remember anything. It was awful!”
Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry you had a bad dream, but it was just a dream. You’re going to do fine.”
“Can’t we say I’m sick?” I asked. But I knew Mom would never go for that.
“Come have some breakfast,” she said, pulling the blankets off me. “You’ll feel better.”
I knew the only thing that was going to make me feel better was telling the Primary president I was too sick to give a talk. Mary Kay could give two talks. She gives talks all the time. She even enjoys giving talks. I started to say something, but Mom gave me one of those “don’t even try it” looks.
“Good morning,” Dad said happily as I slumped into my chair.
“Morning,” I grumbled. I couldn’t bring myself to call it a good morning.
Dad looked at me quizzically.
“Jeremy’s a bit worried about his talk,” Mom explained.
“I see,” Dad said. “Is there anything I can do to help? I’d be happy to listen if you want to practice before we go to church.”
I shook my head. Practicing my talk in front of my dad wouldn’t help. I ate a little before I asked to be excused.
“We’re really proud of you, you know,” Mom said as I rinsed my plate. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you would be the first one in our family to speak in church.”
“I’m sure we’ll all get a turn eventually,” Dad said with a smile.
“What do you mean?” Devon asked anxiously.
“Just that speaking in church is something Latter-day Saints do,” Dad replied. “We don’t have a pastor who gives a sermon every week like we used to. The members take turns giving talks instead.”
Devon shook his head. “I don’t ever want to give a talk.” He looked at me. “Who said you had to give a talk?”
“Nobody did. My teacher asked our class who wanted to give talks. Two of us raised our hands,” I explained.
“You mean you volunteered?” Devon was shocked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I wish I’d kept quiet.”
Mom squeezed my shoulder. “You’re going to do great. Now go get dressed for church.”
Some time later I hurried to find Dad. “Dad, will you tie my tie? I’ve tried three times, and I still can’t get it right.”
“I’d be happy to.” He wrapped my tie around his neck and tied a perfect knot. My tie looked pretty funny on him. It was way too short. He slid the tie up over his head, then pulled it down over mine.
“Thanks,” I said. I pulled my talk out of my shirt pocket and started to read through it for the zillionth time.
I sat through sacrament meeting, quietly reading my notes over and over. It wasn’t until I saw Mary Kay watching me that I put them back into my pocket.
When I reached the Primary room, I walked up to the chairs at the front of the room. On the way, I stopped at the podium to make sure I was tall enough to see over it without standing on the stool the little kids use.
As I looked out over the podium, I saw my mom and dad sitting in the back of the room. I hadn’t asked them to come, but I wasn’t surprised to see them. What did surprise me was that Devon was with them. He was missing Sunday School to hear me talk! I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or not.
Mary Kay sat down next to me. “Are you nervous?” she asked.
I tried to look calm. “Are you?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’ve given lots of talks, but I still get nervous.” She held out her hands to show me that they were shaking.
“Then why do you volunteer?” I asked.
Mary Kay shrugged. “I think talking in church is a good thing to do. I think it’s important to tell people what you believe. Don’t you?”
“I guess so,” I said. “I’ve never given a talk before.”
Mary Kay looked shocked. “Really?”
“In my old church, the pastor did all the preaching,” I explained.
“It’s all right, once you get going,” Mary Kay said with a smile.
Primary started, so we stopped talking. I felt surprisingly calm. Somehow, knowing that Mary Kay got nervous when she gave a talk made me feel better.
After the opening song and prayer, the Primary president announced that Mary Kay and I would be giving talks. Mary Kay went first. I had a hard time listening to her talk. I kept going over my talk in my mind. I was startled when I heard her say, “Amen.”
“Good luck,” she whispered as I passed her on my way to the podium.
I pulled the notes out of my pocket and began.
“This is the first time I’ve given a talk in church,” I began. “In fact, it’s the first time anyone in my family has given a talk in church.” I looked at my family. They were all smiling at me.
I went on to tell of all the ways my life had changed since we were baptized. I talked about reading the Book of Mormon. I told about when the missionaries taught my family.
Then I talked about learning to pray, how glad I was when I learned that Heavenly Father wants us to pray, and how I knew that He listens to and answers our prayers.
I was almost finished when I realized my notes were still clenched tightly in my hand. I hadn’t even needed them! I thanked my parents and Devon for joining the Church with me and told them I loved them. That part wasn’t even in my notes. Then I ended my talk, “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As I sat down, I was filled with relief and joy.
“You did great!” Mary Kay whispered.
“Thanks,” I said, blushing slightly.
I looked back at my family. Devon and Dad smiled. Mom had tears running down her cheeks. I could tell they were happy tears.
When singing time began, I watched my family slip quietly out the back door to go to their classes. It was then I decided that the next time it was my class’s turn to give talks, I would volunteer again.

Last spring Mom and Dad went into town for a little while. Since I had turned twelve, they let me baby-sit my two younger sisters and baby brother. Everything went fine, but when they got home, Mom was feeling sick.
That night there was a stake Young Women and mothers’ dinner and the General Young Women Meeting broadcast from Salt Lake City. I really wanted to go to it, but with Mom’s being sick, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to.
Mom lay down to rest for an hour. After she got up, we dyed some Easter eggs, and then she told me to get ready to go to the meeting. She said I could wear my new Easter dress. She still wasn’t feeling great, but we were going!
At the church, we ate a really good dinner of lasagna and salad, with brownies for dessert. After dinner, Mom said that she had a bad headache, but we went into the chapel with everyone else to watch the broadcast. During the broadcast she started to get really sick and told me that she needed to go home. She asked me if I wanted to stay and see all of the meeting, saying that I could get a ride home with a friend. I said, “Yes.” But I got a feeling inside me, and a voice said, “Go home with your mom, or she will crash.” Another voice said, “Don’t go—she’ll be fine.” I couldn’t decide which voice to listen to.
Mom sat there a few more minutes, then again said that she was going home and asked if I wanted to stay or go with her. The first voice came again: “Go home with your mom.” This time I listened to it and went with her.
As we left the church, I could see that my mom was getting worse and was very sick. On the highway going home, she could barely drive and told me, “Talk to me, Kendra, and tell me that we are going to get home.” I talked and talked and kept reassuring her that we would get home. We did.
I made the right choice to get us home safely. My dad helped my mom into bed; then we had family prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for getting us home safely and asked Him to help Mom get better.
That night I had a bad dream. I dreamed that if I had not gone home with Mom, she would have been hurt in a wreck.
I’m grateful for the gift of the Holy Ghost and that I was faithful enough to listen to His promptings to go home with Mom.

On March 30, just one year ago, little two-year-old Ethan Carnesecca, from American Fork, Utah, was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia and fluid around his lungs. Two days later, his condition had become so serious that he needed to be flown by helicopter to Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. His worried mother, Michele, was allowed to ride in the front seat and accompany her son. She was given a headset so she could communicate with the others in the helicopter. She could hear the medics working on her sick little boy, and being a pediatric nurse herself, Michele knew enough to understand that Ethan was in serious trouble.
In this critical moment, Michele noticed they were flying directly over the Draper Utah Temple. From the air, she looked out across the valley and could also see the Jordan River Temple, the Oquirrh Mountain Temple, and even the Salt Lake Temple in the distance. The thought came into her mind: “Do you believe it or not?”
She says of this experience:
“I had learned about the blessings of the temple and [that] ‘families are forever’ in Primary and in Young Women. I shared the message on families to the good people of Mexico on my mission. I was sealed to my eternal companion for time and all eternity in the temple. I taught lessons about families as a Young Women leader, and I shared stories about forever families with my children in family home evening. I KNEW it, but did I BELIEVE it? My answer came as quickly as the question popped into my head: the Spirit confirmed to my heart and mind the answer I already knew—I DID believe it!
“At that moment I poured out my heart in prayer to my Heavenly Father, thanking Him for the knowledge and belief I had that families truly are forever. I thanked Him for His Son, Jesus Christ, who made it all possible. I thanked Him for my son, and I let my Heavenly Father know if He needed to bring my little Ethan to His heavenly home, it was OK. I trusted in my Heavenly Father completely, and I knew I would see Ethan again. I was so grateful that in a crisis moment, I had the knowledge AND the belief that the gospel was true. I had peace.”
Ethan spent many weeks in the hospital, receiving expert medical care. The prayers, fasting, and faith of loved ones, combined with that care, allowed him to leave the hospital and return home to be with his family. He is healthy and well today.
This defining moment for Michele confirmed to her that what she had been taught all of her life was more than just words; it is true.
As members of the Lord’s true Church, we are already in the boat. We don’t have to go searching through the philosophies of the world for truth that will give us comfort, help, and direction to get us safely through the trials of life—we already have it! Just as Ethan’s mother could examine her long-held beliefs and declare confidently in a moment of crisis, “I do believe it,” so can we!

“Be sure you have a canteen. Make sure each girl has water.”

No one knew how ironic that advice was going to be as the girls from the Dallas Texas Stake set out on their certification hikes. Because the camp was in a farming area, the hike was confined to the outer perimeters of the camp. In the 100-degree heat, plenty of water would be essential.

The group had no sooner walked to the farthermost point from camp than a thunderstorm unleashed a torrent of rain. Sliding down the trail that had in moments become a stream, the girls broke out into song about Noah’s ark and headed for camp. Drenched to the skin, water running down their faces, the girls discarded soggy lunches, poured out full canteens, and tried to find dry clothes as their hike ended rather abruptly. Although backpacking is not a common recreational activity in this section of Texas, the Adventurers fill their requirements by being dropped off outside of camp and hiking in along farm lanes carrying all their gear.

“After the Budapest, Hungary, concert I walked up to two full-bearded men,” said Kay Lynn Wakefield. “I asked if they enjoyed the concert, putting my hand out to greet one of them. He looked around, wondering who I was talking to. I then gave him an Articles of Faith card. He backed away, saying, ‘I am light man’—an electrical technician for the concert. He seemed surprised I would talk to him. I assured him I was happy to talk to him, and I thanked him for his lighting. I asked him who his friend was, and he said he spoke no English and was studying for the ministry. At this point, he said again, ‘I am light man only.’ I then put my hand on the arm of this man, looked him in the eye, and said, ‘You are a child of God, and he loves you very much.’ I bore my testimony to him, telling him that we represented our Heavenly Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I asked him to translate this message to his non-English-speaking friend. As he repeated my words, he began to weep. It seemed almost as if a protective bubble fell over us and we no longer heard the noise of the crowd. I told them both how they could get a Book of Mormon from the missionaries. The student was visibly moved and promised that he would get and read the book.”

Some time ago I was participating on a basketball team that usually played games on Saturdays. When we played on Sunday, however, I would not attend, and my teammates would make fun of this. When they asked me why I didn’t play on Sundays, I responded, “I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I am taught to make the Sabbath sacred and not play sports. I follow the principles of the gospel because I know that God wants the best for us.” After that, my teammates respected my beliefs and stopped making fun of me.
Nicolás B., age 19, Córdoba, Argentina

It had been a rough freshman year of high school. Jenica B., 17, of Illinois, USA, had ballet training, demanding high school courses, and Church and family responsibilities that were all competing for her attention. She was running on four to five hours of sleep, and it was exhausting. Jenica and her parents all knew something needed to change.

“I would love to have a professional career in ballet,” Jenica says, “but ballet, as many dancers know, is a very fragile world, and it’s very difficult.”

Jenica wanted to keep training her hardest, but she also knew she wanted to make her education a priority. “We’d heard of other dancers who had done online school,” she says. “I knew that we had to find a program that would be perfect for me.”

So her mom found an accredited online school program that would allow Jenica to participate in extracurricular activities, and prepare for college while maintaining a rigorous ballet training schedule. And she’d have time for homework, scripture study, and rest. They jumped on the opportunity.

“That was truly a blessing,” Jenica explained. “That was when I started training [in ballet] in Chicago, and I was still able to attend seminary. And I got so much more time to be with my dad because he also works in the city. I was even blessed with incredible opportunities to share the gospel with friends who were curious. It was a really good experience.”

Jenica and her dad spend time together traveling to the city, sometimes even eating dinner together there.

Some of Jenica’s opportunities to share the gospel have come when dancing has taken her away from home. She has found ways to maintain her standards and even to share her beliefs with friends. One summer, she was able to attend summer ballet trainings in both Arizona and New York City. While in New York City, she posted a picture of the Manhattan New York Temple on social media. She also likes to post dance images on social media with an inspiring quote from a Church leader or an uplifting thought.

“We can all use social media to spread the gospel,” she says. “It doesn’t have to be a big post about everything. It can just be a simple something that sparks interest or hope in somebody.” In the end, she says, “other people will be grateful for our courage to share in such a public space.”

Sharing with her friends and maintaining those friendships has helped Jenica to maintain her standards as well. “They’re very respectful of my beliefs,” she says, “and I’m grateful for that, because it makes it easier for me to live them.”

Even with Jenica’s new schedule and new opportunities, balancing all of her responsibilities isn’t easy. She attends early-morning seminary, catches some time with her dad on the train into Chicago, trains in ballet for the day, and then focuses on homework, scripture reading, and Church activities in the evening.

Attending early-morning seminary is important to Jenica, and her new schedule makes it possible.

So how does she do all of it? “It’s very difficult,” Jenica says. But through all of her scheduling and organizing, she asks a simple question: “What do I want most at the end of the day? Because at the end of the day I want to be the best at ballet that I can be but also maintain my schoolwork and be able and prepared to go to college when the time comes, and so it’s a sacrifice now.”

Photograph courtesy of Jenica B.
She adds, “I had a ballet teacher who stressed that we need to put God and our families and our education first and then ballet, because ordering our priorities that way truly helps us focus on what is most important in this life. Having incredible examples like my ballet teacher and the people who guide the Church has helped me understand how to make this happen.”

Jenica enjoys talking with her friends about anything, including the gospel.

One thing Jenica has decided to keep high on her list of priorities is keeping her standards. Fortunately, most studios she has worked with have asked ballet students to maintain modest dress standards, making it easier for Jenica to uphold her own standards. But outside the studio, she says people notice a difference in what she wears.

“My friends do ask, and I’ve told them what the Church standards are that I hold, and they definitely think that it’s interesting, but they see where I’m coming from and where my beliefs are coming from so it tends not to be a problem.”

Jenica’s friends are very supportive when she talks about her standards.

And people notice differences besides the clothing Jenica chooses to wear.

“People have definitely mentioned to me how they know people in the Church and they’re just very happy—they live happy lives—and they notice the light that we share even if we don’t think that other people are watching. They notice differences. They notice when we choose to not use certain language. They notice when we choose not to use things that would be harmful to us, and for the most part they definitely value our strength to stand for what we believe in.”

Jenica has also found many opportunities to make service a priority in her busy schedule. For her online school’s National Honor Society program, she worked at the bishop’s storehouse and with an international organization to earn service hours. And when she was working toward earning her Young Women Honor Bee, she found a way to incorporate her passion for dancing in her community efforts. She started volunteering for two hours on Saturdays to teach ballet to inner-city children.

“I’ve come to realize my passion for service,” she says. “I love feeling like I can make a difference in the world. Even here in Illinois, when I assemble food packs, I can help someone all the way across the globe—and with my own hands. And it helps me realize—even though I don’t know them—the love that God has for His children.”

Jenica loves having time to enjoy things like ice cream and games with her family.

Through all of her experiences in dancing, finding service opportunities, sharing the gospel, and organizing her responsibilities, Jenica has found a great appreciation for the things that matter most in life.

“There are things that we value in life and that we want to pursue, and I know that Heavenly Father will provide a way for us to do that if we continue to keep our faith in Him,” she says. “Sometimes we can lose our sight on what’s truly important and we lose sight of how much He has helped us in these things that we’ve been trying to achieve.” Jenica says she’s learned that “some things don’t go the way that we planned, but no matter how difficult it is, He has a plan for each and every one of us and if we truly pray and ask Him for help, He will provide a way for us to achieve what we want to if it’s in His plan for us. And we just have to wait and be ready to accept what He wants us to do.”

When we arrived in Montevideo, Uruguay, I nervously looked for my father and saw him standing with his wife. He waved his cane at me in recognition. I waved back. Finally, the customs officer told me to proceed. As I walked through the customs door, my father eagerly came toward me. We embraced and kissed each other. As we left the airport terminal, the Spirit told me that the man walking beside me was a different person than I had imagined.
We spent the next few days getting acquainted with one another, laughing together, discovering what we had in common, and becoming friends. Angie and I asked him to record on tape his experiences in his youth and in courting my mother, and we discovered many things about his past. Then, one morning, Angie and I prayed that we would be blessed that day with the right words in asking my father to share with us the Ainsa genealogy and history.
It was my father’s eighty-first birthday. After opening presents at breakfast, he excused himself and came back with an object hidden underneath a towel. He handed me a box and said, “This is the least I can do after all these years. Somehow I feel that I have to make it up to you.” Inside the box was a beautiful watch.
Thirty minutes later, as we were upstairs sitting around my father’s oak desk, I inserted a blank tape into the cassette recorder and asked him to tell me about my ancestors. He talked for a few minutes, then stopped. “It’s a waste,” he said.
I panicked. “Lord, please help me,” I prayed. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” Then I asked my father, “Why do you say it is a waste?”
“Because I have it in print,” he replied. My heart began to beat faster as he reached for a drawer in his desk, opened it, pulled out a folder, and handed me a sheet of paper with a list of names on it. “These are your ancestors on my father’s side,” he said, “and you’re welcome to this list.” I glanced quickly through it; it contained the names of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, as well as those of distant relatives.
“What about your mother? Have you compiled a list on her side of the family?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Your grandmother’s lineage is not important,” he muttered, brushing aside my inquiry. I replied that were it not for my grandmother, he wouldn’t be here, to which my father said, “Well, if it is that important to you, you can have it.” With that, he gave me an envelope containing names scribbled on several sheets of paper and said, “As a matter of fact, you might as well have everything.” He placed the folder in my hand.
I opened it and, as tears began to blur my vision, I read through several lists of names of distant relatives. Inside were pictures of my grandmother, my grandfather, and others. I wept openly. During the past twenty-one years, I had prayed on many occasions for this day. The Lord had heard my requests and had answered them at the appropriate time.
“Why are you crying?” my father asked.
“Because I am happy to be here,” I said.
At that moment, he, too, began to cry. He leaned his head on my shoulder and took my hand between his. “I am sorry,” he said. “I am sorry for what I did. I was wrong. I was never a father to you. During all those years, I never bothered to find out who you were. Will you ever forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you—it is forgiven and forgotten,” I uttered between sobs. As I embraced him, the Spirit whispered softly, “I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men” (D&C 64:10). We were at peace. All the years of separation, loneliness, and turmoil melted away. He knew who I was. He had found a son. And I had finally found my father.

Before any temple is dedicated, children and adults can go to the temple open house and see what a house of the Lord looks like on the inside.
Aubree, Reese, and Ellee M. live a few blocks from the Draper Utah Temple, so they watched as it was built week by week. They even saw a big crane lifting the angel Moroni into place. “That was really awesome!” 10-year-old Aubree said. “But the best day ever was when my family and I got to go inside.”
As soon as they walked through the temple door, the children felt a special spirit. Their tour guide explained that “everything in the temple is sacred,” Aubree said.

Here is another example:
A single mother of two small children recently came down with chicken pox. Of course, it wasn’t long before her children got sick as well. The task of caring for herself and her little ones alone was almost too much for the young mother. And, as a result, the normally spotless house became cluttered and messy. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and laundry piled up everywhere else.
While she was struggling with crying children—and wanting to cry herself—a knock came at the door. It was her visiting teachers. They could see the young mother’s distress. They could see her house, her kitchen. They could hear the cries of the children.
Now, if these sisters had been concerned only with completing their assigned monthly visits, they might have handed the mother a plate of cookies, mentioned that they had missed her at Relief Society last week, and said something like, “Let us know if there is anything we can do!” Then they would have cheerfully been on their way, thankful that they had 100 percent for another month.
Fortunately, these sisters were true disciples of Christ. They noticed their sister’s needs and put their many talents and their experience to work. They cleared up the chaos, brought light and clarity into the home, and called a friend to bring over some much-needed groceries. When they at last finished their work and said their good-byes, they left that young mother in tears—tears of gratitude and love.
From that moment on, the young mother’s opinion of visiting teaching changed. “I know,” she said, “that I am not just a check mark on someone else’s to-do list.”

This story begins in 1842, in a Norwegian settlement near Fox River, Illinois.
Sarah Ann handed a bowl of soup to their guest.
“Thank you,” Mr. James said. “I can never repay you and your mother for letting me stay here to wait out this storm.”
Sarah Ann smiled. Many travelers had enjoyed the warmth of their home. Mother could never ignore a person in need, and Sarah Ann loved her for it.
“We’re glad you could stay with us tonight. This is the coldest night I can remember in Illinois,” Sarah Ann said, taking a seat at the table across from Mr. James. “Our family moved here from New York after Father died. He and Mother left Norway to escape those who wanted to punish them for being Quakers. When they arrived in America, Father worked hard to build a house.”
As Sarah Ann told the story, she could almost smell the fresh-cut maple wood again.
“One day, our home caught fire, and everything was destroyed. When Father returned from work and saw us standing in the street, he asked Mother if we were safe. She answered yes, and Father knelt down right there in the middle of the street and thanked God for protecting us.”
“Your father must have had a lot of faith in God,” Mr. James said.
Sarah Ann nodded, wishing her father were still with them.
Soon their visitor said good night and went to bed. Mother reached for his worn socks, which had been drying by the fire, so she could mend the many holes. This was a scene Sarah Ann had witnessed a hundred times. She kissed Mother on the cheek and went to bed.
When Sarah Ann awoke the next morning, Mr. James was gone. But the house was not quiet. There was a large crowd gathered in the road outside, and Sarah Ann leaned out the window to hear what was happening.
Two men were standing in the middle of the crowd. Sarah Ann recognized them as the Mormon missionaries who had arrived in the village last week. It was obvious that whatever they were talking about was important to them.
One of the men held up a book and said, “We testify that the Book of Mormon is true. We also testify that there is a living prophet once again on the earth.”
Sarah Ann suddenly felt a warm feeling fill her heart. It surprised her. She knew in that moment that what the missionaries were teaching was true.
Sarah Ann rushed to tell Mother about the experience and her desire to be baptized. Some of Mother’s friends were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and even though they were good people, Sarah Ann could tell that Mother didn’t want her to be baptized.
“Sarah Ann, this is a big decision. If you still feel the same way when you are older, then you may be baptized,” Mother said.
Sarah Ann agreed. Over the next three years, she learned all she could about the Church. As she did, her faith in Jesus Christ and His restored gospel grew. No amount of time could take away what Sarah Ann felt about the gospel.
Finally, Sarah Ann was baptized. On her baptism day, Sarah Ann made a promise in her heart that she would always do whatever Heavenly Father asked her to do. She was about to find out what that would be.
(To be continued.)

When I was a young boy growing up in South Africa, I was not a member of the Church. But I read the Bible and said my prayers often, like my parents had taught me to. Because of that, I always felt that the Lord was close to me. I especially liked reading stories about Jesus’s life. I tried to be honest, hardworking, trustworthy, and kind, like Jesus. That’s what the scriptures and Jesus’s example taught me.
From reading the Bible, I also learned what the Church was like when Jesus was alive. And it made me wonder why none of the churches I knew about looked like Jesus’s Church had. Why don’t they have prophets and apostles? I wondered. Why isn’t there revelation in our day?
One day when I was older, two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on our door. “We have a message for you,” they said.
My mother, who was a very friendly person, said, “We’d like to hear it. Will you come back this evening?” When the missionaries came that evening, the room was full—my mother and father, my four siblings, and me. My parents had even invited our neighbors over to listen to the missionaries.
My family was amazed by what they taught. We were thrilled that Jesus’s Church had been restored. It was a church with prophets and apostles! Over time, the missionaries answered all the questions that I had from prayerfully reading the scriptures. Because my family and I were already familiar with the Bible, we were ready to hear the missionaries’ message. We were excited about the gospel. Our neighbors didn’t feel the same excitement.
What truly converted me to the gospel was the Book of Mormon. I read some verses from it. Then one day I decided to follow Moroni’s promise to “ask God … if these things are not true; and … he will manifest the truth of it unto you” (Moroni 10:4). So I said a prayer and started reading the very first verse in the Book of Mormon. When I read it, the Holy Ghost witnessed to me in a wonderful way that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God.
You’re never too young to start reading the scriptures and praying every day. Doing those things will help you know what is true. It will give you faith and the courage to make right decisions.
God doesn’t expect us to rely on anyone else’s testimony of the gospel. He will tell us Himself that the gospel and the Book of Mormon are true. If we are sincere and pray with faith, He will answer our prayers to know the truth.

My name is Leeih Siu-Ling and I am a Latter-day Saint girl who lives in Hong Kong. Even though I have been a member of the Church only five months, I realize how important the gospel is and I want to share this happiness with my friends at school.
I decided to introduce one of my friends to the Church. I invited her to go to Primary with me. She said, “I go to Buddhist school so I can’t go to your church with you.”
I told her she would be welcome to go with me even though she was not a member of the Church, and she decided she would. She felt a warmth and happiness in our Heavenly Father’s house, and she said going to Primary made her want to keep all the commandments of our Father in heaven.
I tried to tell her about the gospel too, and so her faith grew stronger and stronger. Then she asked if she could hear the missionary discussions.
Now she and I go to Church meetings together!

Some of the teens in Ipswich have felt the comforting Spirit of the Lord when they were in frightening situations. Tirion Guy told a story about being on a boat on the River Thames during a windy, stormy day. “The river was choppy, and it seemed to be getting worse. I remember some of the plates in the kitchen smashed, and the chairs were going everywhere. We had to walk up the sides of the boat so we wouldn’t fall over. While I was on the boat, I felt comforted that everything would be OK. But when we got off, when we were safe and it was calm, then I cried. When I was going through it, I can’t really describe it, but I was comforted.”

Two young men jumped at the chance to complete their Eagle Scout requirements through service. The foundation was planning a trip to the Andes so it could build a medical post in Urubamba, but lots of preparatory work needed to be done at home first.

Scout John Tateoka gathered friends and family and coordinated a project of painting window frames, siding, and doors for the medical post. His fellow Scout, Adam Watts, contacted several construction suppliers for possible donations. In a short time, the necessary donations and work were complete, and supplies were shipped to Peru.

Kadabe stopped in the middle of the path. “We’ve come a long way since dawn,” he said. “We’ll be in Lalibela by noon tomorrow.”
Ayalu squatted on the ground, took roasted grain from a small leather bag, and ate.
Kadabe put his bundle down and untied it. He emptied its contents onto the ground, then formed the shemma—the square of white cloth that had held his possessions—into a turban. He shoved his own bag of roasted grain into a pocket. His extra shirt became a handy carrier for the books that he was taking to his sister, Gemma.
The boys went to school almost a hundred kilometers from their mountain village in Ethiopia, and now they were walking home for the Christmas holidays. Tomorrow they would see their families for the first time since September.
“I pray that there will be many rich and generous tourists in Lalibela who will need guides this season,” said Kadabe, “and that they all speak English. I need money for books, and the seat of my pants is as thin as a butterfly wing. I must earn enough so that Uncle Gebre can make me new ones.”
Ayalu nodded. He, too, had to earn the money for his own books and clothing. “I hope to herd Uncle Asabe’s cows,” he said. “He will pay me what he can. It’s good that you’ve learned English so well. You’ll make a good guide.”
After their rest the friends walked on. By nightfall they had reached a village where Ayalu’s aunt lived. She gave them food and a place to sleep.
Early the next morning they started out again. They conquered the kilometers one by one. The sun was high overhead as they climbed the last steep path and looked down upon their village.
Kadabe shouted, “Hello! Hello!”
Gemma was jumping rope in front of the house. “Kadabe! Kadabe!” she called as she ran. “Mother said that you would be here today.”
Kadabe hurried to greet his father at his loom behind the house. He was weaving another shemma to sell at the Thursday market.
“I like school,” Kadabe told his mother later, “but I also like coming home.” He sat on the low stone bench that ran along the wall outside the house. Gemma sat down beside him.
Mother was resting lightly on her heels before the red coals. She poured injera (a kind of bread) batter onto the hot griddle so that it would be ready for the family’s dinner.
“Did you learn more English words to teach me?” Gemma asked.
“Yes, many more,” Kadabe told her, “and I’ve brought more books for you.”
Gemma jumped up. “Please let me have them now! Please! I want to look at the pictures!”
Just then Ayalu appeared, breathless from running. “Kadabe, come quickly! There are English-speaking tourists in the marketplace, and they need a guide!”
Early that afternoon Kadabe picked up the heavy cameras and bags of the tourists and led them to the first stop, Biet Giorgig, an ancient church carved in the shape of a cross from solid rock.
The Englishmen asked many questions about the village as the group went from place to place, and Kadabe was prepared with answers that he’d learned at school. He told the men about King Lalibela, who had made this village his capital during the thirteenth century.
They thanked Kadabe for his stories, and they said that he spoke English very well. When they left, they gave him five dollars. “Good!” Kadabe said. “Now Uncle Gebre can make me some pants for school.”
But when Kadabe turned toward Uncle Gebre’s, he spotted the camera. He remembered setting it on the steps while he handed the other bags to the tourists. Now the jeep that carried the Englishmen was gone, and the camera was still here!
What can I do? Kadabe asked himself.
Ayalu found Kadabe, still on the steps, his forehead lined with hard thinking.
“Look,” Ayalu said. “I have a soccer ball. Let’s go over to the grass field and start a game.”
Kadabe held up the camera. Ayalu took it and hefted it. “It is not a worthless object,” he said.
“No. Its owner was proud of it,” Kadabe answered.
“Unless the man comes back for it, it is justly yours,” said Ayalu. “Money from its sale would buy many books.”
Kadabe thought about that for a minute, then shook his head.
“But what else can you do? You don’t know where the tourists have gone, do you?”
Kadabe jumped up. “I think I do know,” he said. “I heard them say that they would go to the market at Gondar on Thursday.”
“Thursday’s tomorrow,” Ayalu said. “You’d have to walk all night to reach Gondar by tomorrow.”
Kadabe didn’t want to walk to Gondar, especially at night. There were jackals and hyenas roaming around the hills. The paths were rough and indistinct, and it would be dark. He felt cold just thinking about it.
Kadabe passed the camera strap over his head. At home he went to the back to talk to his father, but he wasn’t there.
“He’s gone to bid on some cotton,” said Mother. “I don’t think that he’ll return until late tonight.”
“Mother,” Kadabe said, “I have a camera that belongs to one of the English tourists.”
Mother nodded.
“They have gone to the Gondar market,” continued Kadabe. “I think that I should take this to him there.”
Mother nodded again.
“Do you think that I should?” Kadabe wanted to know.
“You must decide for yourself,” Mother answered.
Ayalu waited with the soccer ball.
“Then I must do it,” Kadabe decided.
“You don’t have to,” Ayalu told him. “And it’s a dangerous journey.”
When Gemma heard that her brother was leaving, she pouted. “Soon you’ll return to school,” she said. “There won’t be any time for my lessons then.”
Mother quieted Gemma and handed Kadabe a bag of roasted grain and a water gourd. “Take care,” she said.
Kadabe left Lalibela as the day’s light faded to gray. “I can do it,” he told himself as he wrapped himself in his shemma. The camera was heavy on his neck.
It grew darker. Sounds from hidden sources made Kadabe’s heart race. His throat was dry, causing him to sip often from the gourd. Sometimes he stumbled on jagged boulders, and twice he fell. But he went on. Never have I wanted to sleep as much as I want to now, he thought as the first light finally showed in the east.
Just when he had decided that he’d left the path to Gondar somewhere behind him in the dark, he saw the smoke of the town.
The next day, just in time for the evening meal, Kadabe arrived back home.
Ayalu was waiting to see his friend. “Well, did the Englishman reward you for returning the camera?”
“No,” answered Kadabe, “he had already boarded the bus to leave, and I only had time to hand him the camera through the window.”
Ayalu shook his head. “You were foolish,” he said. “You walked to Gondar and back for nothing.”
“That’s right,” Gemma agreed. “You should have stayed at home to teach me.”
Kadabe looked at his mother.
She spoke softly. “Your brother has taught you something greater than the English words you want to know, Gemma. He has shown you that if you do not do what you know is right, knowledge is empty.”
As he looked down at his tired feet, Kadabe smiled in agreement.