Gospel Story Finder

I recently learned of a particular young adult sister who decided to serve a full-time mission. She had developed a capacity to connect with and relate to people from almost every belief system, political persuasion, and nationality, and she worried that wearing a missionary name tag all day, every day, might become an identifier that could impede her exceptional ability to establish relationships. Just a few weeks into her mission, she wrote home about a simple but meaningful experience:
“Sister Lee and I rubbed salve into an old lady’s arthritic hands—one of us on either side—while we sat in her living room. She didn’t want to listen to any spoken messages, but let us sing, loved us to sing. Thank you, black missionary name tag, for giving me license to have intimate experiences with complete strangers.”

After meeting the missionaries, my family investigated the Church for three years. It was very important to my parents that we be baptized as a family. They knew that if we joined the Church, it would often be difficult for us to choose the right. But they believed that if we all decided to follow Jesus Christ, we could help each other when the times grew difficult.
When we joined the Church, my parents committed our family to sacrifice and service. I did not really know what sacrifice was, but I knew that my parents would give all they had to the Church. I saw that helping other people made my mom and dad happy. My parents were always serving, so I followed them around and tried to help, too. I was often too young to do much, but my parents’ example of service inspired in me a lifelong desire to serve.

I began to urge my family to come with me to sacrament meeting. I told them I wanted us to be an eternal family. To encourage them, I would wash everyone’s church clothes on Saturday night so that the excuse “I don’t have anything to wear” was no longer an option. I told them that I had a testimony of the gospel and that I wanted to share it with them. Most important, I prayed. I prayed that my family could know the Spirit the way I did. I wanted them to go to church so that we could someday be sealed in the temple.
It started slowly and took some time, but one warm August morning, my prayers were answered as we were sealed in the Portland Oregon Temple. I felt the Spirit stronger at that moment than ever before. I knew my family could be together forever. To this day I cannot thank my Heavenly Father enough for this wonderful blessing.

Noah, aged 11, has gone to extraordinary lengths to help his little sister Ellerie. Five-year-old Ellerie suffers from trichotillomania, a disorder characterised by recurrent hair pulling. Ellerie has benefited from help from The Little Princess Trust, who provide human hair wigs to children that experience hair loss due to cancer and other conditions, with the aim to help promote their self-esteem and sense of well-being. The charity welcomes hair donations of ponytails 12 inches or longer.
Noah says, “I have learned, as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to always look for ways that I can help others. The charity helped my little sister feel so happy. I wanted to help them in their work, so they can continue putting a smile on other children’s faces too.”
Noah started to grow his hair over two years ago, with the idea of donating it as soon as he could. Along with having his hair cut, he has managed to raise over £300 for the trust.
Ellerie is delighted with her big brother’s sacrifice and excitedly says, “I loved Noah’s long hair, but I love that he gave it to be made into a wig, for a little girl or boy, who doesn’t have any hair of their own anymore.”

When my sister, Nancy, and I were teenagers, we regularly attended our local church. But we began to feel that something was missing, so we decided to investigate other churches.
That summer my sister and brother visited a booth at the Canadian National Exhibition, where missionaries were showing a movie called Ancient America Speaks. After watching the movie, my sister and brother signed up to receive a free copy of the Book of Mormon. I can still remember the excitement in my sister’s voice as she announced to my mother and me that Christ had visited the American continent.
The missionaries brought a Book of Mormon to my sister and asked her if she would like to learn more about the Church. That was how we were both taught the gospel.
More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life. When Nancy told him about the gospel, he was eager to take the missionary discussions. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.
Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what the missionaries taught them, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. The missionaries told them that once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith, then everything else—the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets—would fall into place.
When Luke and Leonarda met with the elders again, the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.
I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. Luke accepted baptism, and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.
Since that night, the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. Truly, for us that night, everything did fall into place.

When I was young I would sometimes work with my grandfather. One time he asked me to help him paint the frame part of their old home in Salt Lake City. I remember working with him and how I thought he was so careful in trying to teach me how to paint correctly. We spent lots of time with the wire brushes and the sandpaper and putty and making sure the surfaces were all prepared well. Then he taught me to paint a board working with the grain, starting at the top and working down.
Doing all these kinds of things, I really thought he was teaching me to be a painter. And although I learned some of the techniques and I’ve done a lot of painting around the house, I know he was really teaching me more than how to paint. While we were working, my grandfather would talk and tell stories. And, in retrospect, I know that he was teaching me.
One of the lessons he taught me was the importance of paying tithing. He told me about my father, who was born in 1912, and my uncle, who was born a few years later. Both of these boys grew up in the Depression, a tough time. Because of the economic circumstances of the time, most of the young people didn’t get a chance to serve missions or they had to serve missions late.
Despite these circumstances, my grandfather said, “You know, we were really blessed because both your dad and your uncle got to go on missions. And I’ll tell you why they got to go. Because we were always honest in paying our tithing, so the Lord blessed us.”
He said they never had enough money, and people wondered how they sent not only one but two boys. He told me that they worked hard and saved money and were very careful, but they were also very blessed. He emphasized that the blessings were evident because they didn’t have any money fly out of heaven. Instead, grandfather was always able to get extra work and extra jobs.
He was a hard worker and had always worked 12 hours a day six days a week and sometimes more. He said, “Every time we thought that we’d be out of money, somebody would call me and ask me to build a room on their house or ask me to build a set of stairs or to do some painting for them.”
Because of those blessings, my father and his brother were both able to serve missions. I have a copy of my father’s missionary journals, and I saw the record he kept during his mission of when he got money from home. Although those dates were somewhat sporadic, they are evidence of my grandfather’s testimony of tithing.
Of all the commandments tithing has probably been the easiest one for me to keep in my life because of my grandfather’s faith and the testimony he bore. He taught me the principle of tithing because he absolutely believed it all of his life and he was blessed because of his obedience.
Tithing is a wonderful measure of people’s faithfulness, but it is also a great evidence to people that if they are faithful in their tithing, they are blessed. That lesson that I learned and remember so vividly has been reinforced for me over and over again.
Tithing has always blessed me and my family in our lives. During the time that I was in school, my wife and I were very busy and really very poor. There were times when we wondered if we would have enough money. But we had made the commitment that we’d always pay our tithing first, and we always had enough. We’ve done that all of our lives. There have been challenges, but somehow there’s a way when you pay your tithing that you can do the kinds of things you need to.
This doesn’t mean that people who pay their tithing can’t get into financial difficulty. I know perfectly faithful people with respect to tithing who have lost jobs and businesses and homes, but I’m convinced the Lord honors those who honor Him. When people pay their tithing faithfully, not grudgingly, He helps them find a way out of their financial problems and difficulties.
As with all the commandments, if you make a firm decision early about tithing, then you never have to decide it again. And that’s the way I grew up. You always paid your tithing first, and there was never a question about when you pay your tithing. You pay your tithing, first, because it’s a commandment, second, because it’s a blessing, and third, because it helps you keep the other commandments, because it allows you to have the Spirit that reminds you that everything you have is really the Lord’s.
In addition to recognizing that nothing is actually yours, one of the blessings that comes from paying tithing is how you use the other money that you have. You learn the principles of thrift, and you’re likely to listen to what the prophets have to say about avoiding unnecessary debt and deciding what is a want versus a need. The law of tithing is both substantive in the sense that it is real and you can count it, but it’s also symbolic in terms of how you feel about other things.
Some of the commandments are hard to measure, like being kind and having charity or being meek and lowly and being all the other things you ought to be. But tithing is one of those things where you can say: “OK. This is what it is. This is what I’m going to do. And I may not be perfect in other things, but I can be perfect in my tithing.” I’m a firm believer that being perfect in your tithing will help you to become more perfect in other things.
If you would like to have all of the blessings that Heavenly Father has prepared to give you, a very good place to start is being a full tithe payer and being honest in your tithes. That will help you do the other things you need to do, and it will ensure that, as the scriptures teach us, the windows of heaven will be open for you.

Resting on the stone steps of the ancient ruins of Dzibilchaltún in Mexico, Sandra Hernández and Meily Tolosa quietly consider the scattered ruins of a city nearly 1,500 years old. The silence around them is almost as heavy as the humid tropical air. But the peaceful moment doesn’t last long.
The silence shatters as Samuel Hernández comes hooting and hollering out of the thick jungle, which grows right up to the edge of the small pyramid. His friends Jorge Tolosa and Wilbert Agosta follow right behind him.
“Oh, I thought I was going to die,” he laughs as he throws himself down onto the steps and tries to catch his breath. Picking their way through the jungle, Samuel and his friends had been making their way toward a partially overgrown structure when they startled a flock of hidden birds. The birds weren’t the only ones startled. “Oh, my heart,” Samuel says, laughing.
Samuel, Meily, and other youth from the Canek Ward, Mérida México Centro Stake, are spending the day exploring some of Mexico’s ancient ruins. Dzibilchaltún is just one of the thousands of crumbling settlements left throughout the Americas by ancient inhabitants.
The land from central Mexico to Honduras (also called Mesoamerica) has been home to many thriving civilizations. On this trip to Dzibilchaltún, the youth are grateful that ruins of some of their ancestors’ cities have been preserved so they can explore where their ancestors lived. “It’s interesting to learn what my ancestors did and what happened to them,” says Jorge, a deacon.
In the same way, these youth are thankful that the record of the family of Lehi has been preserved so they can learn from its teachings and experiences. “I’m grateful the Lord preserved the Book of Mormon for us to learn from,” Jorge says.
Many Nephite prophets, such as Nephi, Enos, and Mormon, prayed that the Lord would preserve their testimonies of Jesus Christ to help their descendants (see 2 Ne. 25:21; Enos 1:16–18; W of M 1:8).
As He promised, the Lord preserved their records and brought them to light again through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Now the Book of Mormon is bringing the descendants of Book of Mormon peoples—and other people from all around the world—to Jesus Christ.
“I’m so grateful for the Book of Mormon,” says Carmen Hernández, a Mia Maid who hopes to thank the Book of Mormon prophets someday. “When I meet them,” she says, “I will say, ‘Thank you for helping so many people find answers and come to Christ.’” (See 2 Ne. 33:11; Jacob 6:13; Ether 12:38.)

I could not help noticing the lady across the aisle. She was looking around the bus with her eyes wide, her thin hands clasped together in front of her. She kept squinting out the window, shaking her wispy hair, and making a funny noise. She began fidgeting more and more, and I wondered if she was going to make a scene. I turned to the window, trying to ignore her. But curiosity made me look back again.
It was then that I saw the tears in her eyes. I wondered if she might be in trouble. I wanted to help, but what if she did make a scene? I wouldn’t know what to do. Besides, I thought, I have to get to school on time, and my stop is coming up.
Then I looked at her again and saw the fearful expression on her face. The next thing I knew, I stood up, crossed the aisle, and sat down beside her.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need some help?”
Her eyes were wet, and her hands were shaking. She turned her delicate face to me, and I saw confusion in her eyes. I asked her again, “Are you okay?”
She looked down at her green handbag and fumbled through it for a pen and a notebook. She began writing, “Have we left Ottawa? I think I took the wrong bus.”
I picked up the pen and wrote, “Are you deaf?” She responded with a nod. “Don’t worry,” I continued to write. “We’ll figure this out.”
My stop was coming up next, and I knew this would make me late, but I didn’t get off. Instead, I approached the bus driver, and he phoned the station for directions. I wrote the alternate route down for her, and the bus driver said he would ensure that she caught the connecting bus.
“What is your name?” I wrote quickly, before getting off at a stop quite a distance from the school.
“Anna,” she scribbled. “Thank you. You are the friend I was praying for.” A calm smile spread across her face that made her hazel eyes sparkle. I could feel her love and appreciation. As I smiled back at her, I felt an understanding bond us together.
As the door swished behind me and I waved good-bye, I could not believe I had almost let Anna take that frightening journey alone. I ran all the way back to school with a smile on my face. I was glad I had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost telling me that someone needed my help.

Freddie hugged Dad goodbye. “Tell Haraboji we’re praying for him.”
“I will. I’ll call every day to let you know how he’s doing.”
Freddie nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat.
Dad was leaving for South Korea to visit Freddie’s grandparents, Haraboji and Halmoni. He would be gone for almost a month while Freddie and his family stayed home in the United States.
The door closed, and Dad was gone.
“I wish I could go too,” Freddie mumbled. He wiped away a tear. Freddie hadn’t seen Haraboji and Halmoni in a long time. His family had been saving money to spend their next vacation with them in South Korea. But Haraboji was sick, and now he needed surgery.
“I’m sorry, Freddie,” Mom said. “I wish we could all go with Dad, but we haven’t saved enough money yet. And it’s important for your dad to go now, when Haraboji needs him.”
“But what if the doctors can’t help Haraboji? What if he dies and I never get to see him? We should go with Dad now!” He wiped away more tears. He felt sad and angry.
Mom wrapped her arms around him. When he stopped crying, she asked, “Should we say another prayer for Haraboji?”
Freddie nodded, and they folded their arms and prayed together.
Freddie and his family prayed for Haraboji every day. Freddie made sure to always remind them. He tried his best to help out while Dad was gone. He did some of Dad’s jobs, like walking the dog and reading stories to the little kids before bed.
Weeks passed, and Freddie wasn’t so sad anymore. But he still worried about Haraboji.
One night he was talking on the phone to Dad. “What if I never get to go to Korea?” he asked. “What if Haraboji doesn’t get better, and I miss my chance to see him?”
“Freddie, someday you’ll have a turn to visit Korea. But whether or not Haraboji is still alive, you’ll see him again. Our family is eternal.”
“I know,” Freddie said. He felt something warm in his chest. He would see Haraboji again someday, no matter what happened.
“I love you, Freddie,” said Dad. “And I’ll be home soon.”
“I love you too.”
Freddie smiled as he hung up the phone. He knew they would all be together someday. He was glad he had a forever family.

“Go outside and play,” the hired girl said. “You know your mother needs to rest.” So Leta, Sina, Nilla, and Clyde followed the flagstone path out the back door and past the pretty tulips. The gate led to the field, and at one end of the field was a big root cellar. The parts of the cellar that were not filled with potatoes or other root crops were like a playhouse for the four children.

“Let’s get ready for dinner,” Leta said in a special voice that meant she was pretending to be Mother. “Sina, help me tie my apron.” She pretended to pull an apron out of a drawer and put her head through the part that went over the shoulders.

Sina pretended to make a bow in the back, hurrying to finish so she could play the part of big sister. “I will set the table,” she said, turning over a wooden crate and draping it with an old dish towel that they had used in their playhouse before.

“Nilla,” Leta ordered again, “you go back to the house and find us some food to eat.”

Nilla was happy to have an important part to play in this game. She was almost back to the house before she remembered that the hired girl had sent them away and might not let her go into the house again. She looked around carefully until she saw the girl talking to a boy who had ridden up on a horse.

Nilla went to the kitchen. The cupboard doors were open, but they smelled of cleaning soap and nothing was inside. Boxes and bottles of various sizes and shapes were on the table and chairs.

One bottle with a worn, red-and-white label caught Nilla’s eye. She did not know that the picture of the skull and crossbones on it meant “poison.” The label was loose, so she tore it off and threw it down on the floor. Then she proudly took the bottle back to her sisters and brother, who were waiting in the playhouse.

Leta opened the bottle and looked at the white crystals inside it. “Yes, this looks very good,” she said, closing it up again. “It will take a little while for dinner to be ready, so don’t sit up to the table yet.”

Leta pretended to be busy cooking over the stove, then sweeping the floor. She scolded the children from time to time when they were impatient waiting for their food. Finally she announced that it was time for dinner.

When the children took their places at the table, Leta poured a little pile of the crystals in front of each of them. Clyde licked his finger, ready to eat right away, but Leta stopped him. “No food until after the prayer. And I will say it.”

This time, she reminded everyone of their father as she prayed. “Our Father who art in heaven,” she began, “we thank Thee for this food, and for …” Her voice rose and fell as she prayed on and on, and her words were mumbled much of the time so that no one was quite sure what all she had said. The others did hear her say, “Bless this food to our use” and “Bless the missionaries in the field.” Just when Sina, Nilla, and Clyde thought that the prayer would end and the feast would start, Leta thought of the name of a ward member she could mention in the prayer and the prayer continued.

In the house, Mother, sick and weak, awoke with such a feeling of concern for her children that she found herself standing beside her bed even before she was fully awake. Making her way slowly out of the bedroom, she saw the hired girl asleep on the couch.

The kitchen was spotlessly clean, except for a faded red label that startled her as a breeze blew it across the floor. A picture of a skull and crossbones was on it, and the word strychnine. Mother hurried outside as fast as she was able. She saw no sign of her children in the yard, so she went straight to their playhouse in the cellar.

Leta had just said, “amen,” and each child was raising a freshly licked finger in the air over the “food” to pick up the powder and eat it, when Mother’s shadow appeared in the doorway.

Mother had found the children in time! In her heart, she said her own prayer of thanks for the lives of her little children. She did not doubt for a moment that the Spirit of the Lord had awakened her and led her to the children who were in danger.

That evening at suppertime, the children waited patiently through the rising and falling tones of their father’s long blessing on the food. It wasn’t hard to remember their own blessing on the play “food” they had almost eaten in the root cellar.

While they were eating, Nilla whispered to Leta, “Heavenly Father really does hear and understand each prayer, doesn’t He?”

“Yes, He really does,” Leta whispered back.

Whenever I’m having a hard day, I like to read the New Era. I always find that it helps me cheer up. February 2007’s issue came exactly on one of those days. I was sick and couldn’t go to school. That night I read the New Era and found the article “Don’t Face the World Alone.” It included a couple of scriptures that helped me regain happiness. The article itself said that if we can have faith in the Lord and obey Him, we can have good things happen to us and we can help other people. After that, I felt inspired to read the rest of the articles.Wryn W., Colorado

As the Book of Mormon musical toured Scotland, it came to theatres located within the boundaries of the Aberdeen Scotland Stake. Dedicated missionaries grabbed the opportunity to speak with the hundreds of people who attended.
After each performances concluded, the audience filtered out and many found themselves drawn to engage with full-time elder and sister missionaries of the Church, who were located near the exits. They and the Lord then went to work.
Following many light-hearted and positive conversations, attendees were glad to accept gospel pamphlets as well as pass-along cards. The missionaries were amazed and thankful as some attendees expressed interest in meeting with them again to learn more about the doctrines of the Lord’s Church and the love of Jesus Christ.
It was a testament to the love of Heavenly Father and the power of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.
Zone leaders Elder Caleb Cuthbertson and Elder Zachary Peavler spoke fondly of the experience: “We saw a lot of true miracles at this musical. Many people who spoke with us had a change of perspective that day, and a different respect for the work we do.”
Elder Oliver Iverson said he was very grateful for the opportunity he had been given to “answer genuine questions as well as clarify our beliefs to the musical’s audience.”
It was a hugely positive experience for everybody involved, not to mention a profound reminder that “God is mindful of every people (Alma 26:37)”.

“I felt like I was in a disaster movie,” says Alex V., 18.
It was 8:30 in the morning, but the sky above Paradise, California, USA, was dark and getting darker. Burning embers fell through the choking, smoke-filled air. Streets were gridlocked.
“Traffic lights would turn red and green, but no one was paying attention,” Alex says. “People were screaming and honking, not moving at all. Some of them started driving on the wrong side of the road.” And a wall of fire was rapidly moving toward them.
Alex called his mother: “The trees are exploding!” he said.
“You mean they’re on fire?” she said.
“No, they’re exploding! They’re bursting into flames, the whole tree at once!”
His dad told him to ditch the car and meet the family in a restaurant parking lot about two-and-a-half miles away, where he was waiting with his truck. Alex has severe asthma, and he didn’t have his inhaler. But he pulled over, said a quick prayer, and abandoned the car.
“When I started running,” he remembers, “I immediately felt safe.” He ran until he met up with his family, and eventually they escaped from the fire.
That was on November 8, 2018. Looking back today, Alex sees blessings that weren’t obvious at the time:
He had clear cell phone reception in areas that usually don’t receive service.
He had service throughout the evacuation, when service is usually so swamped it fails.
He felt peace about what he should do.
He was able to “run and not be weary” until he reached his family (see Doctrine and Covenants 89:20).

I went into a hospital one day in New Zealand to bless a woman who didn’t belong to the Church. She was dying. We all knew she was dying. The doctor even said so. She was having her farewell party. Ah, that’s one thing I like about the natives. When you go they give you a farewell party. They all gather around. They send messages over to the other side. “When you get over there tell my mother I’m trying to do my best; I’m not so good, but I’m trying.” “Tell her to have a good room fixed for me when I get over there and plenty of fish, good meals.” My, it’s wonderful how they send you off. There they were, all gathered around this poor sister. She was about to be confined, and the doctor told her it would kill her. She was tubercular from head to foot.

I had with me an old native, almost ninety. She was his niece. He stood up at the head of the bed and he said, “Vera, you’re dead. You’re dead because the doctor says you’re dead. You’re on your way out. I’ve been to you, your home and your people—my relatives. I’m the only one that joined the Church. None of you has ever listened to me. You’re dead now; you’re going to live.” He turned to me and said, “Is it all right if we kneel down and pray?” I said, “Yes.” So we knelt down. Everybody around there knelt down, and after the prayer we blessed her. The last time I was in New Zealand she was physically well from head to foot and had had her fifth child. She has not joined the Church yet. That’s the next miracle I’m waiting for.

One night after I went to bed, my baby brother was having trouble breathing. He had to go to the hospital. I got really nervous and decided to say a prayer. My younger sister and I prayed that Heavenly Father would help my brother breathe better, and that he would come home safely from the hospital. Our prayer was answered in the way we hoped. I know that Heavenly Father loves us.Sara Bailey, age 8Columbia, Maryland

Although Joseph was only eight years old when he and his family moved to Winter Quarters, Nebraska, he and his friends were responsible for taking care of the cows.
One day, the boys were watching the grazing cattle outside of town. They were suddenly attacked by Indians. Joseph’s friends were frightened and rode their horses home. Joseph was frightened, too, but he tried to drive the cattle to safety.
3. Joseph and his horse were moving fast, but the Indians were going faster. When Joseph looked to his right, there was an Indian alongside him! There was one on his left, too!
4. Joseph didn’t know what to do. The Indians reached over and grabbed his arms and legs and lifted him from his horse. Then they dropped him to the ground and rode off with the horse.
5. Even though several horses galloped over Joseph, he was unhurt. Joseph was very brave, and he continued to be brave throughout his life. When he was older, he became the sixth President of the Church.

Gray shadows of disappointment nagged at Karl as he walked home in the dark between the two elders who had just baptized and then confirmed him a member of the Church. He had prayed that he might know whether the Church had been dreamed up by man or whether it had truly been established by the Lord, and he had fully expected the horizon to lighten when he came up out of the Elbe River. But the night was still dark and the sky was still black. No sign had been given.
As the three returned home through the dark together, their discussion centered on the authority of the priesthood. One of the elders spoke German and interpreted for Karl, who spoke only German, and then interpreted for the other elder, who spoke only English.
Suddenly there was no need for an interpreter! For a brief time both elders understood Karl’s questions and comments, and Karl understood their answers whether spoken in German or English! Karl’s prayer at the time of his baptism had been answered.
The elders felt this strange experience was a special blessing for all of them, but they did not know then that Karl’s baptism would prove to be a great blessing to all of the Church. Karl, who became well known throughout the Church as Dr. Karl G. Maeser, was twenty-seven at the time of his baptism, and he held the position of der Oberlehrer (head teacher) at the Budig Academy in Dresden, Germany. A brilliant student and teacher, Karl had first learned of the Mormon Church through a popular pamphlet written to ridicule its teachings. He wondered what could cause anyone to have such hatred for a church, and he decided to learn more about it.
There were no Mormons in the country around Dresden at that time, but Karl accidentally discovered there were missionaries in Denmark. So he wrote to the mission president there for information and was sent pamphlets and books. Carefully studying the material, he became interested in the teachings of the Church and asked that a missionary be sent to Dresden to explain things to him. Two months later, in October 1855, Karl became the first member of the Church in that area of Germany.
In the spring of 1876 Dr. Maeser, who had emigrated to the United States, was called by President Brigham Young to establish the Brigham Young Academy in Provo, Utah.

But sometimes the pressure of always being the example—of always being the “good” guy, especially when there are those around you trying to make you slip up, can become overwhelming. That’s what happened to Ryan when he was traveling with his marching band. “Sometimes I get made fun of a lot because I don’t swear or tell dirty jokes. I’ve actually had people say they were going to get me to crack before the end of the band season.”

At one point about two years ago during an extended band competition, the harassment got so bad that Ryan reached a breaking point. “I was crying on the bus. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I wanted to go home.” When the bus arrived back at the school where the band was staying, Ryan told a friend he was going for a walk and left to find a quiet place to pray.

“I found this spot behind the school, and when I knelt down and started to pray, I broke down. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to get through this. I must have prayed for a good 30 minutes where I was literally pouring out my soul. It was really the first night where I felt as if Heavenly Father was near to me. When I felt that, I’ve never felt so much at peace in my life, and I knew right then that I would get through this.

“Before I prayed I was like, ‘I can’t take it,’ and afterward it was one of the most calm and peaceful feelings I’ve ever felt. Then there were tears of joy and tears of happiness. What I felt was truly the gift of the Holy Ghost helping me get through what I was going through.”

Ryan says that as he felt the loving presence of his Father in Heaven, everything changed. Ryan had felt alone and insignificant; now he felt loved and empowered. “I’m a son of God,” Ryan said to himself. “I’m a priesthood holder—a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. That night I really felt like I was someone important to my Heavenly Father.”

The competition circuit continued for another week, and those who had been badgering Ryan stopped. He’d weathered the storm, his testimony now strengthened, his reputation intact. Plus he’d had a few opportunities to share the gospel with others.

I finally let the two young men into my home in Padova, Italy, as a reward for their perseverance. They had continued to come back despite the excuses I made up when I found out they were Latter-day Saint missionaries. Finally, I found myself in my sitting room with them discussing happiness—much to my annoyance.
Although I enjoyed the conversation, hearing those two young men say that we could be happy on earth went against my beliefs. I felt that on this earth, we knew only sorrow—and that only after death, when we lived with God, could we experience happiness.
I should have considered myself lucky at the time, with a husband who loved me very much, a three-year-old daughter, and a new home. But the trials I had gone through in life had taught me otherwise. I grew up without a father and didn’t get along well with my mother. Six years earlier, I had lost a baby who lived only three days—a death I could not understand.
Thus I was unhappy and indifferent. When the missionaries left, they made another appointment and left a copy of the Book of Mormon with several marked verses they asked me to read. I read the verses over the next few days but didn’t understand them.
The missionaries returned every week, first coming by themselves and then, after asking my permission, bringing a sister from the Church. I agreed to accompany her to Church services the coming Sunday. When I entered the church, I felt as though I had always belonged there.
Several people greeted me pleasantly and shook my hand warmly. I noticed that everyone seemed calm, and I immediately felt a sense of peace within myself. It didn’t seem as though it was the first time I had entered the church—and this feeling frightened me. During the following week I felt irritable and had difficulty sleeping.
When the missionaries returned, I asked why, instead of experiencing the happiness and peace I had been promised, I had felt restless and couldn’t sleep. Instead of answering my question, they challenged me to be baptized. I laughed openly, telling they that they could continue to visit me, but that I would never join their church.
Later, however, after telling my husband about the experience and even laughing about it again, I began thinking of everything that had happened. Suddenly, as if something had released inside of me, I felt that I had to be baptized.
My husband tried to dissuade me, treating my decision first as a joke and then making it the cause of a quarrel. He even told me that I might lose my job, since everyone at work belonged to the Catholic Church. But the days went by, and I continued to insist until he finally gave his permission.
After I received the remaining missionary lessons, the day of my baptism finally arrived: 26 October 1986—two months after the missionaries arrived at my house. I was trembling with excitement and scared for the future. My husband agreed to attend the service with my daughter.
As soon as I entered the water, all my fears vanished, and I felt free. I will never forget the happiness I felt in that moment. Immersed in the water, I knew that my relatives and my other little daughter beyond the veil were happy and that they rejoiced in the choice I had made.
Four years have gone by since that day, and I have never before experienced such peace and happiness as I have known since joining the Church. I have become a better wife and mother and am now serving as president of my branch Relief Society. My daughter regularly attends Primary and is preparing for baptism. I also kept my job without any problem.
When trials overcome me that I feel are too heavy to bear, I have learned to confide in my Savior, Jesus Christ. I went to the temple for my endowment, and my suffering for my daughter’s death is almost gone because now I understand that I haven’t lost her forever.
I will never tire of thanking the two servants of the Lord who found me and brought me such precious gifts: the Book of Mormon, my membership in the Church, and true happiness.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Matt: I don’t want to go back to school!
Mandy: I like school.
Matt: Be quiet!
Mandy: Mom, Matt told me to be quiet!
Matt: Tattletale!
Mandy: Mom!
Mom: Matt, did you say something unkind to your sister?
Matt: I don’t like school.
Mom: I guess at your age I didn’t like school much either.
Mandy: You didn’t? How come?
Mom: First, I think Matt has something to say to his sister.
Matt: I’m sorry I got mad at you, Mandy. I’m just grumpy because school’s starting.
Mom: Now come here, both of you. I’ll tell you about how I learned to enjoy school. Then we’ll see what we can do to help Matt feel better.
Matt: Thanks, Mom.