Gospel Story Finder

“Visit Sister Jones” is what was written down for 1:00 P.M. Sister Jones was a member of the ward who we had visited a few times in the California Arcadia Mission, but she had not been to church for a long while. She had a good husband and three adorable little daughters. Every time we saw her, we asked her to come to church, but she had not come yet.
I had often thought and prayed about how we could encourage her to come back to church and was beginning to doubt if we would ever succeed. I suggested to my companion that we go tracting instead. He agreed that tracting was important, but he seemed inspired in his suggestion to follow through with our plan. I swallowed my pride and said a silent prayer. The Spirit whispered to me that following our plan was what God wanted us to do.
We biked to Sister Jones’s place, and as we pulled up she was taking out the trash. When she looked at us she seemed discouraged. She did not seem particularly thrilled to see us.
“Hello, Sister Jones,” I said cheerfully. “How are you doing?”
“Okay,” she responded halfheartedly. I knew something was not quite right. The last time we visited she had commented how hard it was to keep up on her housework because of an illness she had contracted. I wondered if this was the cause of her unhappy countenance. The Spirit whispered again to me. Without leaving room for argument we announced, “We’re here to do your dishes.”
She was taken aback and a little reluctant to let us help. I could see she was longing for some relief. She led us inside, and immediately I went to a sink full of almost every dish in the house. Meanwhile my companion started vacuuming. All Sister Jones could manage to do was sit down on the couch, exhausted, watching us gratefully. We finished the vacuuming, my companion dried the dishes, and soon the house was sparkling. Sister Jones expressed her appreciation with a teary smile.
“Thank you, Elders. I really needed that today.”
“No problem, Sister Jones. We’re always glad to help. You know that,” my companion said. She smiled, and we let ourselves out.
The following Sunday I was surprised to see her in the congregation at church. It warmed my heart. It was fast and testimony meeting, but what added to my surprise was Sister Jones getting up to bear her testimony.
After bearing her testimony of the truthfulness of the Church, she added, “This week I was having a really hard time. I’ve been sick and not able to do everything. One day when it was particularly difficult, I began to pray. ‘Lord help me, I don’t know if I can handle this! Please, please send an angel, or something. Please.’ And right then, two of his angels pulled up on their bicycles and asked if they could help. I was so touched. It was exactly what I needed.”
I began to cry. For one thing, I had never been called an angel before. I am just me—a simple missionary. But for one short afternoon, we were someone’s angels. Still, I cannot take credit for it. In that fast and testimony meeting, the Holy Spirit once again whispered to me with the sweet comfort that comes from following God’s will. It is not always what we want to do. It is not always what we think is best. But God’s way is always right. We may not have reached our goal for tracting hours that week, but we reached a much higher standard—the standard of doing what our all-wise Father above wanted us to do.

Cambodian. Laotian. Vietnamese. I don’t speak any of these languages, thought Elizabeth Dutton of Dallas, Texas. Two weeks after becoming a Beehive, she received a rather unusual assignment for a girl of 12. She was called, along with the rest of her family, to be a stake missionary in a Dallas Asian branch.
Initially, Elizabeth had a few worries. With all the different languages, how would she communicate with people? And as a new Beehive, how could she help new converts adjust to Young Women when she had only been there a couple of weeks herself? She didn’t know the answers. But Elizabeth, determined to face the challenge, agreed to serve.
Her first Sunday in the Asian branch turned out to be, well … incredible. “When we first went, we were welcomed with open arms. Everyone was really friendly,” says Elizabeth.
As it turned out, many of the youth in the branch spoke English, and the adults who didn’t still made efforts to befriend her. Missionaries and ward members translated sacrament meetings into Laotian, Cambodian, Vietnamese, and English, so everyone could understand the speakers. At first, one of the biggest adjustments was simply figuring out when to say amen after prayers, which are not always translated.
For her younger sister, Alice, attending a branch where some members wear headphones to hear translated talks and where cultures from around the world come together is seriously fun. “It’s small and friendly and all the people are very close. It’s neat because you get to know a lot about different cultures,” says Alice.
Five years have passed since the Duttons were called as stake missionaries. Now Elizabeth, 16, and Alice, 15, know exactly when to say amen, but they still have much to discover. For example, one of Alice’s favorite cultural learning experiences is the branch’s monthly potluck dinner. The dinners give her a chance to load up on egg rolls and sticky rice and to interact with the 20 or so young people in the branch.
In a branch with many recent converts, the girls have had several opportunities to fellowship new members and to do missionary work. After Elizabeth had been a stake missionary for about a year and a half, one of her Cambodian friends from elementary school began investigating the Church. Missionaries asked Elizabeth to attend the discussions to support her friend, Phally Chhim. Elizabeth happily agreed, and a few months later Phally was baptized.
Elizabeth and Alice say they are just following the example of missionary service set by their older siblings. Their two older sisters, Catherine and Deborah, as well as their brother Daniel, are serving missions. Also, the girls feel a special desire to serve because their own parents were introduced to the gospel by missionaries many years ago. “Missionary work is important in our family, because if our parents hadn’t met the missionaries, none of us would be members,” says Alice.
Spending time together is important for the Dutton girls because they attend different high schools during the week. Alice, who wants to be a pediatrician, is a sophomore at the High School for Health Professions at Townview Center; and Elizabeth, who plans to major in agriculture at Texas A&M, is a junior at Dallas’ Skyline High School. And although they don’t see each other all that much during the week, they do have Sundays. Both sisters agree that their work in the Asian branch has blessed their family.
“I think it has brought us closer together,” says Elizabeth.
And their callings have also brought them closer to Church members they otherwise may never have met. “I just really like the people,” says Alice. “Even though you are listening to a translation from the elders, you can feel the speakers’ testimonies through the Spirit.”
“When they call us back [to our home ward], I’m hoping I don’t have to go,” Elizabeth adds with a laugh.
Whether the girls are tying white yarn around people’s wrists for good luck during the Laotian New Year or smacking their lips in appreciation for a Cambodian dinner, their five-year calling has taught them to appreciate different cultures. They have also learned that the gospel can bring people of different backgrounds together. Although the girls still occasionally struggle to find the right word or right motion to communicate with a member who speaks another language, they say it doesn’t matter. Take it from Alice, who says, “This experience has helped me because you learn that everyone is a daughter or son of our Heavenly Father.”

May I share a personal missionary experience? Shortly after we arrived in Toronto we were preparing the children to enroll in their schools. My five-year-old son was to start kindergarten, but on the first day he was afraid to go. My wife and I were concerned, and I was impressed to invite my son to come into my office and sit in what the missionaries call the “hot seat,” and we would have an interview.

He climbed up into the big black chair, and I asked, “Son, how can I help you?”

I shall never forget as long as I live the look of real concern on his face. With his little chin quivering, he said, “Daddy, I am afraid.”

I understood, for I knew he had left behind several friends of his same age, and so far he had found no one his age near the mission home. I said, “Craig, you have a friend that will always be with you. Let’s kneel down together and ask Him to help you.” We did, and Craig assigned me to say the prayer.

The Lord helped Craig find his courage in this experience. Every morning thereafter we held our interview, and every morning I was assigned to pray.

Then one morning, about two weeks later, there came no knock at my office door—no special father-and-son prayer. He had found his confidence and made some friends, and I was the one that missed that very special experience each morning with my little boy. I hope that this choice learning experience while on this mission will remain with Craig and become a source of strength to him when he is called to serve the Lord on a mission of his own.

In September 1948, two friends told 16-year-old Jirí about hearing a lecture given by Mormon missionaries. He went with them to the next meeting. “The missionaries were young, friendly, and full of optimism,” he says. “I felt an immediate desire to know more about the Church. Reassured by the lectures I heard at the meeting, I decided to study diligently in my mind and heart the doctrines they were preaching.”

Seven months later, early on the morning of his 17th birthday, Sunday, 24 April 1949, Jirí and his two friends—along with four missionaries and two local members—took a streetcar to the end of the line in Lochotín and then walked for 45 minutes to Kamenicky Pond.

“It was several degrees below freezing,” he remembers, “and the grass and trees were covered with frost. We walked bravely to the pond, surrounded by magnificent nature, to enter into covenants with the Lord.” They were baptized, then confirmed at the waters’ edge. “It was for all of us one of the most beautiful moments in our lives.”

When my younger siblings are annoying me, I’ve learned to ask them kindly to stop and then I walk away for a few minutes. Then I come back with one of their favorite toys and play with them. Sometimes the most tempting way to handle things is by threat and force. Whenever I want to do this, I silently sing the lyrics to “If the Savior Stood Beside Me” (New Era, Aug. 2007, 8–10). That helps me keep calm and remember to love them. Another good song to sing is “Love One Another” (Hymns, no. 308).
Bria W., 12, Texas, USA

On that November day in 1972 when I got on the bus to go to school, I had no idea this day was going to be one of the most important in my life.
I was 13 and an ordinary student. I mainly tried to have a good time at school, and I had many friends who were like I was. Óscar Italia was not like the other boys. He really did study and, as a result, was on the honor roll. But I didn’t know him well. He was a quiet fellow.
When I entered the classroom that day, he was wearing a button on his lapel that read, “I Care. What about You?” At that time the Church in our area had a program to help members share the gospel. They wore this button so when people asked about it, they could explain about family home evening and the family.
I asked Óscar, “What’s that?” He explained that he had been baptized three months before and was the only Latter-day Saint in his family.
During the breaks that day he noticed my interest and explained the plan of salvation, and he gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. He read me the promise in Moroni 10:3–5 and told me that if I prayed, I would feel a burning in my heart that would confirm to me that the Book of Mormon was true. Óscar was a great member missionary, and I believed him.
The next morning, while my mother was doing her shopping at the neighborhood market, I decided to read the Book of Mormon. When I was almost finished with the first page, I had a desire to pray. I went to my room and knelt beside my bed. I had never prayed before, but I remembered I had to ask God in the name of Christ. I asked if the Book of Mormon was true, and I asked God to tell me if He existed. I expected to feel what my classmate had testified I would feel. After some minutes I heard my mother coming home and was afraid she would find me praying, so I stood up and got ready for school.
As I rode to school a real battle of ideas was going on in my head. “Is it true or not? Nothing happened,” I thought. I had a lot of doubts.
I can’t explain why, but no sooner had I stepped from the bus onto the sidewalk at school than the doubts disappeared, and I knew it was true. It was extremely simple.
Óscar came up to speak with me at the classroom door. I said, “I will be a member of your church.” He couldn’t believe it. A friend of mine was listening, and he told my other friends what was happening. Soon they were all around me, asking me why I was going to change religions. They told me I was crazy. I couldn’t answer their questions and started to cry. They finally went away, and I was left alone with Óscar. Suddenly I had an overwhelming feeling of joy. I had never felt anything like it before. It was the burning my friend had said I would feel, and it came as a confirmation of the decision I had made.
The next day Óscar brought me a button, and we wore them proudly.

My testimony on the issue of reaching out beyond the walls of our own church increased 10 years ago when I was the managing director of the welfare program of the Church. At that time, we began seeing television documentaries about the drought conditions in Ethiopia. With sensitivity to the plight of the starving people in Africa and sensitivity to your desires to help, the First Presidency called a special fast in January and again in November of 1985. As a result, many millions of dollars were donated to help alleviate the suffering.
To determine how to spend the funds donated in the first special fast, Elder M. Russell Ballard and I went to Ethiopia to see the situation firsthand. We had some heart-wrenching, soul-stretching, and faith-promoting experiences. Neither of us will be the same again. Some of my most vivid memories are not of the terrible suffering we witnessed, which you saw on your television screens, but of the great outpouring of love and service from nations of the world. We saw doctors and nurses giving humanitarian service in deplorable settings. They were tired, but smiling.
We learned of a Catholic priest who had been laboring in the drought- and war-stricken province of Tigre for 11 years. He saw a need and was trying to help long before the television and news accounts made it fashionable.
We saw an Ethiopian man who was perhaps 80 years old stumble into the feeding station camp with a desperate, beaten look on his face.
He was obviously starving to death. However, on the way to the feeding station, he had passed a deserted village and had heard the cry of a baby. He searched until he found the baby sitting on the ground next to his dead mother. In spite of this man’s emaciated condition, he picked up the baby and carried him in his arms for 25 miles to the feeding station. The man had a look of glassy-eyed bewilderment, but his first words were not “I’m hungry” or “Help me.” They were “What can be done for this baby I found?”
I feel that the members of our church should be doing all we can to alleviate suffering. I am thrilled with the fact that our full-time missionaries now devote several hours of their week to community service. When followed properly, this program does not detract from the primary goal of missionaries, but enhances that goal.
An experience I had in Guatemala observing some welfare missionaries had a great impact on me. When the welfare sisters walked onto the church grounds, the atmosphere became electric. Men, women, and children alike ran to them and embraced them. I was told the sisters had helped them through a recent epidemic. They had helped deliver some babies and were present when some members of the families had died. They had brought food for both the soul and the body.
Knowing that we have been commanded to care for the poor and needy within and without the Church, what priorities should be placed on those two activities?
President Joseph F. Smith taught: “It is the first duty of Latter-day Saints to take care of themselves and of their poor; and then, if we can extend it to others, and as wide and as far as we can extend charity and assistance to others that are not members of the Church, we feel that it is our duty to do it. But first look after the members of our own household” (Gospel Doctrine, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1939, page 308).
I testify to you that in today’s environment there is room for both caring for our own and helping with the problems in the world’s society. Building the kingdom and improving the world are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are compatible and complementary. When asked which of all the commandments was the greatest, the Lord said: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 22:37–39).
The greatest commandment, to love God, was not given priority at the expense or exclusion of the second commandment, to love our neighbor. I do not think a sincere love of the Savior is possible without a sincere love of mankind. Neither do I believe it is possible to have sincere love and concern for Church members to the exclusion of the rest of God’s children. Compassion knows no political or religious boundaries. We cannot do everything, but still we must do everything we can.
Something spiritual happens to a person when he reaches out to help someone else. President Spencer W. Kimball put it this way: “As givers gain control of their desires and properly see other needs in light of their own wants, then the powers of the gospel are released in their lives. They learn that by living the great law of consecration they insure not only temporal salvation but also spiritual sanctification” (Ensign, November 1977, page 77).
If individuals completely abdicate to the Church their responsibility of caring for the poor, this beautiful phenomenon does not occur. This is true whether the help is going to members or nonmembers. I say this because there may be a tendency to pay tithing and fast offerings and feel all has been taken care of. The greatest sanctification takes place with person-to-person help. Hence, the greatest compassionate service each of us can give may be in our own neighborhoods and communities. Wherever we live in the world, there is pain and sorrow all around us. We need to take more initiative as individuals in deciding how we can best be of service.
I am so pleased that the projects which went on throughout the world as part of the Relief Society sesquicentennial celebration in 1992 were local service projects. There was some thought given to having wards in more affluent countries reach out across the ocean and help other wards in impoverished nations. Instead, an inspired determination was that projects would be done on a local basis. If projects had been undertaken 5,000 miles away instead of in the sisters’ own backyard, they would have missed seeing firsthand the joy in the face of a lonely old man or woman in a nursing home, or the thanksgiving expressed by a woman met in a crisis center, or the tears of gratitude expressed by the invalid who had her home spring-cleaned for the first time in 10 years.
We don’t do these things for firsthand credit or to have the person’s profuse gratitude, but something very spiritual happens between the giver and receiver of personal service. Both are edified, and a spiritual bonding takes place. A love comes into the heart which is large enough to encompass not only the person served but all of God’s children.
All people need to give. This is true of both affluent Saints and the poorest of the poor. Poverty is a relative term. It means something much different in one country than in another. There is no common solution or program for every situation.
However, principles are universal. We cannot bring everyone to the same economic level. To do so would violate principles and foster dependence rather than independence. People living in each country have the primary responsibility for solving their own problems. They must sacrifice for each other in order that they can experience the sanctification which comes from giving.
During a trip to South America a few years ago, I spoke with a stake president whose stake had experienced over 50 percent unemployment of members during the previous three years. I knew the stake had received less than 200 dollars in assistance from the area office during that period. I asked him how the members had been able to survive without a large infusion of outside help.
His answer was that the families had helped each other—not just father, mother, sons, and daughters, but uncles, aunts, and cousins. When a cousin got a job, the money earned went to benefit everyone. In addition, ward members looked after each other and shared what they had, however meager. With tears in his eyes, he explained how close his stake members were to each other and to the Lord. Their spirituality had increased manyfold.
We could have poured money into this stake from more affluent areas and felt good about it. However, in so doing we would have robbed them of the opportunity to serve each other and to become sanctified in the process. The solutions to poverty are extremely complex, and the balance between too much aid and not enough is very elusive. Our compassion can lead to failure if we give aid without creating independence and self-reliance in the recipient.
On the other hand, there is a state of human misery below which no Latter-day Saint should descend as long as others are living in abundance. Can some of us be content living affluent life-styles while others cannot afford the chlorine to purify their water? I struggle constantly with this balance. I believe I have learned a divine truth, however. I cannot become sanctified without serving others, and I will be held accountable if I rob another of the opportunity to give service.
We cannot, as individuals, be spectators to the pain and suffering around us and sit idly by and expect sanctification to take place in our lives. There is a limit to how much we should rely on institutional welfare. We cannot allow organizational lines to set up a buffer between a person in pain and ourselves, if we are in a position to help.
Without this perspective, there is danger in setting up an organizational structure that does indeed provide more efficiency but which also becomes an organizational wall between ourselves and people in need. At the first sign of someone in need, we may release ourselves from reaching out because, after all, we are not their bishop or even their home teacher or visiting teacher. Often there is a cry for help that has your name preceding it, and you may be the only one who can hear the cry.
I trust we will continue to see humanitarian aid given by the Church as long as it effectively facilitates our individual desires to reach out to the poor and needy. However, the primary responsibility of the commandment to care for the poor is our own individual responsibility. We should give financial contributions when possible, but this alone is not complete. We must also give of ourselves. We can often give of ourselves when a financial contribution is not possible.
In this respect, I am as touched by what the Savior did on his way to deliver the Sermon on the Mount as by what he said in the sermon. On his way, he healed the sick and preached the gospel (see Matt. 4:23–24).
As I speak about “taking care of the poor,” I am referring to the broad array of affliction the people in the world are experiencing in our day. This includes supporting and comforting those suffering in mind, body, and spirit. Money cannot buy the pure love of Christ. It can be obtained only by sacrifice.
I realize that some of you—with the demands of your families, close friends, and Church callings—have little left with which to save the world. Sanctification comes from service rendered to our own families as well as to strangers. It has not been my objective to make you feel guilty, but to teach some principles of caring for the needy. You and only you know your own unique situation and can determine how you can use these principles at your particular age and circumstances.
My promise is that as you review these infinite needs in relation to your finite resources, you will be able to formulate a plan which will give the appropriate balance. I can also promise you that the things the gospel asks of us are not mutually exclusive but are complementary to each other. Speaking for myself and all of the Brethren, I give you our heartfelt love and gratitude for all you are and all you do.

A month or so after we were married, my wife and I were taking a long road trip in the car. She was driving, and I was trying to relax. I say trying because the highway we were traveling had a reputation for speed traps, and my wife might have had a slight tendency toward a lead foot in those days. I said, “You’re going too fast. Slow down.”
My new bride thought to herself, “Well, I’ve been driving for nearly 10 years, and other than my driver’s education teacher, no one ever told me how to drive before.” So she replied, “What gives you the right to tell me how to drive?”
Frankly, her question caught me off guard. So, doing my best to step up to my new responsibilities as a married man, I said, “I don’t know—because I’m your husband and I hold the priesthood.”
Brethren, just a quick tip: if you are ever in a similar situation, that is not the right response. And I’m happy to report, it was the one and only time I ever made that mistake.

Photograph courtesy of Ariana O.
Ariana O. of Queensland, Australia, along with several other students in her music class at school, was given an assignment to compose a song about something uniquely American. “I had a few things going around in my head,” says Ariana, “but the Restoration stood out to me the most. It was something I was passionate about and something I am very proud to be a part of.”
On the Friday after she finished writing the song, the teacher told the students that they would perform their songs the following Monday. “When I went home that evening, I practiced whenever I could so that I could surprise Mum and Dad with what I wrote the song about,” says Ariana. “I had to wait the whole weekend, and I was a little bit scared as well. I didn’t know how my classmates would react, and I didn’t want them to think I was weird.”
On Monday, the teacher announced the performances. As it turned out, only Ariana and one other group had actually written a song.
“I was nervous,” she says. “One group wrote a song about cowboys and Indians, and I wrote a song about Joseph Smith. The group who wrote their song about cowboys went first, and they were just as nervous as I was, but there were two of them performing. When it was my turn, I said a little prayer and went to the piano. I started playing, and it was like it was just me and the piano. Once I finished, I explained what the song was about, and then I sat back down.”
Though Ariana wasn’t sure how the others felt, she was glad to have shared her testimony in that way. And, she says, “I knew that I had grown spiritually.”

Years ago, when I was a single mother, overwhelmed with the care and support of my four children, a generous gift from my mother and brother allowed me to return to college. During my drive to school, I would think about my hopes and dreams for my children. I was a convert to the Church. My fondest desire was that they would have the opportunity to teach the gospel to others and bring them the happiness I felt.

One morning, as I was driving down to school, I thought about my two oldest sons, who were 22 months apart. If they served, the oldest would finish his mission just as his brother started his. I agonized over this and wondered how I would ever be able to help them pay for their missions. I wasn’t sure I could find funds to send the first, let alone the second.

This turmoil continued for four days, while I prayed for an answer. On the fifth day the answer came: “Raise worthy sons. Money is easy to find; worthy sons are not.”

Peace flooded my heart. The answer was so far from my monetary concerns that I was startled. My job was to raise worthy children. I could hold family home evening, attend church, get my children to seminary, and help my sons with Young Men activities. I could make prayer, fasting, and scripture reading part of our family life. I knew that if I did my part, my children might have an opportunity to serve missions.

In addition to our routine, we had an incredible home teacher who loved our family. He and his wife came faithfully each month. He taught my children lessons, gave them blessings, and attended their sports events. Friends took my sons to stake priesthood meetings and overnight campouts. There were stake members who gave them opportunities to work and earn money, neighbors who were like an extra set of parents, and school teachers who taught them discipline and consistency through academics, music, and sports.

When my oldest son turned 19, the funds were there for his mission. As it turned out, the funds were there for all four children to serve. They served in Mexico and Brazil and in South Carolina and Virginia, USA. The youngest two even served at the same time!

That experience has often made me think of the Lord’s words in Isaiah: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways” (Isaiah 55:8).

Prayers are answered when we follow the counsel we receive, and blessings often follow. I know the service my children gave to the Lord changed their lives and the lives of those they taught. Their service has blessed our home and will continue to do so for generations.

For many New Caledonian young adults, their missions help prepare them for a lifetime of Church service. Syoelanne (Syo) Ulivaka received a call to serve as second counselor in the bishopric only a week after being released from his full-time mission. “I had just finished my mission,” Syo says. “I was tired, and I had told myself, now I’m going to rest.” But he still accepted the call. “I realized I’ll go where the Lord wants me to go. I’m in His service—not just for two years, but for life.”
Since he served in the bishopric, Syo has now gotten married, has a child, and has moved to a different ward. But he continues to serve and fulfill his Church callings.
Elder Earl C. Tingey, emeritus General Authority Seventy, told young adults: “A Church calling is one of the most wonderful blessings you can enjoy at your stage of life. You have so much to contribute to the ward or branch where you live. Your talents and skills are necessary to a growing Church.”3 Syo isn’t the only young adult on the island whose skills have been put to use to help the growing Church—other young adults serve in almost every capacity at the ward and stake level. Syo says, “We try to bring back the things we’ve learned on our missions to strengthen our stake and our wards.” These young adults make many sacrifices in order to strengthen the kingdom in their home country, but as Syo remarks, “what we sacrifice is mostly our time.”
Some young adults have two or even three callings. “That can be a blessing for them, but it can also be a burden,” says Syo, as many struggle to balance the demands of young adulthood with their Church responsibilities. “It’s hard to do everything at the same time.” But Syo found that when he put the Lord first, the rest was easy to accomplish. He says, “The Lord has helped with everything else—school, finding a wife—it was all in the Lord’s hands.”
Syo recognizes that, when it comes to serving the Lord, “We are His tools.” In these times of Church growth, the Lord will call upon the Saints of all ages, everywhere, to accept responsibilities to build and strengthen His kingdom. Are we ready to answer that call?

Two years passed. One day I asked Roberta if she would travel with me to the city of Foggia, where I was to receive my patriarchal blessing. She agreed to go, mostly because she hadn’t been on a trip in a while.
While Roberta waited in another room, Brother Vincenzo Conforte gave me a wonderful blessing. Afterward, I was so caught up in the Spirit that I completely forgot about Roberta, who must have been feeling like a fish out of water as she waited for me. But Brother Conforte noticed her. When he learned she was not a member of the Church, he humbly knelt by her chair. Looking into her eyes, he bore a sweet and powerful testimony. God truly lived and loved her, he testified, and she could come to know Him through simple prayer.
That testimony touched Roberta’s heart. And it completely changed the way I thought about sharing the gospel with others. With that simple gesture, the patriarch taught me how to be a true witness of God.
Since I had this experience, many of my friends have come into the Church. My friend Roberta is even considering studying the gospel. And I have learned something I will never forget: Whenever we testify of the Savior and His gospel, we must do so with love.

Brigham Anderson, a 52-year-old Whanganui resident, is debuting his first art exhibition that combines traditional M?ori tukutuku (geometric paneling art) with values from “The Family: A Proclamation to the World”.
Anderson’s exhibition titled “Ng? tukutuku o te k?inga,” (The home of tukutuku) opened at the Space Gallery in Whanganui on 1 December ran through 18 December.
Anderson’s art is what he considers faith based. He quoted President Brigham Young (1801–1877), who taught the principle that truth can be found everywhere, including in art and culture. He said the family values and truth that are found in M?ori culture are similar to those found in the gospel, and so representing both in his art is important to him.
“There are lots of similarities in all people and religions, we have more in common then we have in differences, and I hope my pieces can bridge some of those gaps,” Anderson said. He hopes his paintings can be a reminder to live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Although not a full-time artist, Anderson started focusing more time on his art during the pandemic which led him to create story-telling tukutuku paintings that symbolize principles and values from “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.”
When people see these paintings, Anderson hopes it leads the viewer to reflect on where they are in life and what improvements they can make in regard to their own family relationships and faith.
In nine of the tukutuku panels in the exhibition, he specifically highlighted these principles for families: faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work and having fun together.
Hours of research and planning went into designing, crafting and picking symbols he used in each painting to portray its story. The colours, shapes, lines, and M?ori words he used to represent each principle all have special reasoning behind why he chose them.
In the faith panel painting, he included the word “rongo” at the bottom, which describes four of the five senses, excluding sight. With the increased influence of social media, Anderson said many rely too heavily on seeing to believe, but that isn’t how faith works. He used “rongo” to capture and symbolize the idea of not needing to see, to still exercise faith. “The word rongo also can mean peace, especially after a challenging time in our lives. The gospel of Jesus Christ brings that peace,” he said.
The panel titled “Inoi,” portrays the principle of prayer. He used the colour blue to depict Heavenly Father because “it is a peaceful colour.” The words Anderson painted mean to call out to Heavenly Father and the shapes were meant to represent someone praying and God bestowing blessings upon them. Anderson said this painting symbolizes how the further a person seeks light, the more God will give them because “everything Heavenly Father does is for our benefit.”
Anderson based the forgiveness “Muru” panel on a talk by President James E. Faust (1920 –2007). In the talk, Faust told a tragic story about a group of Amish people who forgave and served the family of someone who had killed multiple Amish children. Anderson said that story of forgiveness inspired him to create shapes that look like the white foam on top of rapids to parallel the importance of forgiving and moving on.
“If you don’t forgive, you can get caught up in the rapids, and can drown, but as you forgive, you move into more peaceful, calm water,” he said.
The colours, shapes and lines in his art are so exact, that many at first perceive his art to be digitally made and printed. But every piece of the exhibition he painted with acrylic paint. He said the precision of the paintings comes from his culture where they originally weaved tukutuku panels out of flax. If one part wasn’t done correctly, they would cut the flax off and start over completely.

Another example of the importance of small things comes from Elder and Sister Jackson, missionaries serving in Guyana: “When we first arrived in the mission field in Guyana, we saw in the local Georgetown newspaper the report of the ‘Teenager of the Month.’ In the report he said his favorite food was macaroni. We took the newspaper clipping, a Book of Mormon, and a box of macaroni and knocked on his door. We have taught and baptized seven of the family since our first visit.” This small thing resulted in a great benefit in establishing the Church in Guyana.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and Carrie Roberts was on her way home from her piano lesson. She pedaled her bicycle down Mimosa Street past the park.
“Carrie! Carrie Roberts!” someone called.
Carrie turned toward the park. She saw her friend Peggy waving at her.
Carrie rode her bike over to Peggy.
“Hi, Peggy. What are you doing here?”
“I’m helping Mark. He’s practicing his running.”
Mark was Peggy’s retarded younger brother. Although Carrie felt sorry for Mark and knew that he wasn’t responsible for his condition, she felt uncomfortable around him.
Carrie watched Mark run awkwardly around the big track. “Why is he running?” she asked.
“He’s going to be in the Special Olympics next Saturday,” said Peggy proudly.
“What are the Special Olympics?” Carrie asked.
“They’re like the real Olympics, but they’re for handicapped kids,” Peggy explained. “They run races and everything.”
Just then Mark finished his run. He was panting, and his face was red.
Peggy hugged him. “That was good, Mark! Do you remember Carrie?”
Mark grinned a friendly, crooked grin. “Hi, Carrie,” he said. The words were slurred, as though his mouth was full of marbles.
“Hi, Mark,” Carrie replied. She tried to think of something else to say to him, but her mind was blank.
“I have a great idea, Carrie,” said Peggy. “Why don’t you come to the race Saturday? You can be a hugger.”
“What’s a hugger?”
“Huggers hug the kids after they finish their races. Everyone gets lots of hugs at the Special Olympics. Will you do it?”
“Well …” Carrie hesitated, trying desperately to think of an excuse. But she couldn’t. “I guess I can,” she said.
“Great!” Peggy said enthusiastically. “Be at Lincoln Junior High Saturday morning at ten o’clock.”
On her way home, Carrie felt awful. “I don’t want to be a hugger!” she muttered. “I’ll have to think of some way out of it.” She looked up at the sky. “Maybe it will rain.” The thought cheered her up a little.
The first thing Carrie did Friday morning was look out the window. The sky was clear and blue. During school that day, Carrie looked out the window periodically, hoping to see some clouds. But by the time school was out, she had given up hoping for rain. She would have to think of something else.
When Carrie got home, her mother was painting. “Are we having company tomorrow, Mom?” Carrie asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Do we have to go anywhere tomorrow?”
“I don’t believe so,” Mom said. She put down her paintbrush and looked at Carrie. “I thought you were going to the Special Olympics tomorrow.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“I guess I’m not too crazy about hugging a bunch of retarded kids,” admitted Carrie.
“Oh, Carrie! They may look and sound a little different, but they’re Heavenly Father’s children, too, and they need hugs just as much as the rest of us do.”
“I suppose so,” said Carrie. But she was not convinced.
The next morning Carrie was almost cheerful as she rode her bike to the junior high school. Late last night she had finally thought of a plan to get out of being a hugger. Reaching the school grounds, she found Peggy standing with Mark. He was wearing a bright red T-shirt.
“Hi,” said Carrie, in a low, raspy voice.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Peggy.
“I have a cold,” Carrie said. She coughed. “I won’t be able to be a hugger because these kids might catch my cold.”
Peggy gave Carrie a funny look. “That’s too bad.” She turned to her brother. “Come on, Mark. It’s almost time for your race.”
“Good luck, Mark,” said Carrie in her raspy whisper.
Peggy and Mark walked away. Carrie sat down on one of the wooden bleachers near the finish line. She could see Peggy and Mark at the starting line on the other side of the oval track.
Carrie looked around. Lots of the kids looked and sounded like Mark. Boy, am I glad I found a way to get out of being a hugger, she thought.
Peggy left Mark at the starting line with the others and ran across the oval to the finish line. Carrie motioned for Peggy to sit by her, but Peggy didn’t seem to see Carrie. Instead she stayed on the inside of the track. Carrie’s heart sank. She realized that Peggy knew she was faking the cold.
Mark lined up with four other children. The starter’s gun sounded, and the runners took off. At first all five were bunched up together. Then slowly a boy in a blue shirt began to pull away from the others. Soon Mark, pumping his legs up and down, began to catch up to him.
As the runners rounded the curve, Carrie could see the look of concentration on Mark’s face. He was really trying hard!
“Come on, Mark!” Peggy was shouting over and over.
As they got closer to the finish line, the boy in the blue shirt stumbled and fell. The crowd in the stands groaned sympathetically.
“Come on, Mark!” someone yelled.
But Mark stopped. He helped the other boy up and then helped him brush the dirt from his knees. The other runners passed them and crossed the finish line.
Mark held the fallen runner’s hand. Together they crossed the finish line. Mark grinned and raised his arms high.
Carrie felt tears in her eyes. She pushed her way through the crowd and hurried over to Mark. He grinned at her. She held out her arms and enfolded him in a big bear hug.
“That was a great race, Mark!” she exclaimed.
“Peggy is lucky to have you for a brother.”
Carrie looked at Peggy.
“Do you still need a hugger?” she asked.

Pablo wasn’t much different from any other investigator I had taught as a missionary in Paraguay, except for one thing: he couldn’t hear. That sometimes made it difficult to communicate. Because he didn’t know sign language, our discussions were usually a mix between lip reading and writing notes back and forth.
During the week, Pablo lived alone. His wife worked as a housekeeper and could only come home on weekends. He really enjoyed our company but was becoming less and less interested in the Church. My companion and I wondered what we could do to help Pablo progress. One day my companion said: “You know, Pablo’s birthday is next week. Maybe we should get him a card.”
It sounded like a good idea, so on Pablo’s birthday we headed to his house with the card. He saw us crossing the lawn and came out to welcome us. “Happy birthday, Pablo,” we said, exaggerating our lip movements and showing him the card. For a moment he didn’t seem to know how to respond. A tear came to his eye.
As we stood there on Pablo’s front patio, something changed in him. With his wife gone for the week, we were the only people who had remembered his birthday. Though no real conversation took place, we came to an understanding we hadn’t had before. Pablo started “listening” more closely to our messages, and he even went to church the next Sunday. He couldn’t hear the words spoken there, but he felt the Spirit testify of the truth of it.
Within a short time, Pablo was baptized and later ordained to the priesthood. The Church has made such a big difference in his life. His wife joined the Church, and they are now preparing to be sealed together in the temple.
I never would have guessed what a difference that card would make. Simple love and kindness had helped a man who couldn’t hear to accept the gospel. Sometimes it’s by the simplest means that the greatest things are brought to pass (see Alma 37:6).

A young man preparing to leave on a mission told me he grew up feeling his parents’ love for the scriptures, particularly the Book of Mormon. “Our family studied it together,” he said. “Mom and Dad taught us about the Savior, and I saw how much they loved him. Gradually I began to study and pray more on my own. I wanted the joy in my life that I saw in my parents’ lives.” Then he added this significant statement: “As my testimony of the Savior grew, I knew I could never let him down.”

“Poor little Margarette has a very bad sore throat,” Margarette’s mother told a visitor. Hearing her mother talking about her, Margarette hurried to the bedroom door to see the Prophet Joseph Smith standing there.
He called Margarette to him and examined her throat. Concluding that it was very bad, he took her on his lap and gave her a blessing.
Immediately, Margarette felt healed. She was very grateful that the Prophet would give her such a blessing—after all, she was only a child. Why should he worry about her? She wondered about it for several days.
“Why did the Prophet bother with me?” she finally asked Mother. “I’m just a little girl. I’m nobody special.”
Mother set aside the bread dough she was kneading and wiped her hands on her apron. “My sweet child, the Prophet Joseph is a loving friend of all children. He believes as the Lord said in the gospel of Matthew: ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’*“
“What does that mean?” Margarette asked.
“It means that when we serve others, it is the same as serving the Lord,” Mother explained. “I won’t be surprised if you find that the Prophet helps you again,” she added with a wink.

As a member of the Milwaukee Wisconsin Ward, I was directed by devoted leaders. Our activities were a marvelous resource for developing social interaction skills, helping us overcome the awkwardness of teenage years. However, one Mutual experience especially shaped the course of my young life. It occurred in 1956, 54 years ago! Yet even today I remember it clearly.
We young men worked together during Mutual each Wednesday to build a detailed, four-foot-high (1.2-m) replica of the beautiful Salt Lake Temple. We also created a large poster detailing the purpose and story of the Book of Mormon.
Our ward’s Boy Scout troop had obtained a prominent booth for the annual display of Scouting skills in our city. Hundreds of visitors walked by our booth and saw our display. Many stopped. They inquired of young Aaronic Priesthood boys in Scout uniforms as to the purpose of the temple display. Many then inquired about the Book of Mormon. We young Aaronic Priesthood holders explained the best we could and then provided them a paperback copy of the Book of Mormon.
A dear fellow Scout and I (we were in the same teachers quorum) felt like 20-year-old missionaries! We both silently committed to be worthy and to serve as full-time missionaries. Eventually, we both did just that—thanks, in part, to Mutual and to devoted leaders of youth.

I would like to relate to you an experience that I have had concerning the November 1983 issue of the New Era. I was attending college and was seriously dating a young man who had not gone on a mission. He started having a bad influence on my thoughts and actions. When I received the November issue, I read “Crisis at the Crossroads” by Elder Monson. It reminded me of my duties and responsibilities here on earth and gave me strength to break up with that young man.
From that day on I changed. I set some new goals for myself so I would not fall into the same trap as I had with that previous young man. Not only did it help me, but it was also a positive influence on him. It set him straight. Not long afterwards, he sent in his papers for a mission. I am so thankful for that article and the powerful message it had for me at that time in my life.
Name withheld