Gospel Story Finder

Illustrated by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Matozzi
In 1847 Latter-day Saint pioneers were traveling across what is now the United States to find their promised land in the West.
The Saints did not know exactly where they were supposed to go. Brigham Young was President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at the time. He was the only one who knew where the Lord wanted them to establish Zion. But he was very ill.
Brigham Young: Elder Woodruff, I need to continue traveling westward.
Elder Woodruff: But you’re too sick!
Brigham Young: Nonsense. Just lay me in the back of your carriage.
On July 24, 1847, Elder Woodruff drove the team of horses pulling his carriage toward the Great Salt Lake. Lying in the back of the carriage was President Young.
Elder Woodruff: Heavenly Father, please bless President Young that he will know where to lead the Saints.
As soon as President Young saw the desert valley of the Great Salt Lake, he told Elder Woodruff to stop.
Brigham Young: This is the right place; for the Lord has shown it to me in a vision.
Twenty-two years later, Elder Woodruff remembered that event as he was writing in his journal.
Elder Woodruff: Today I attended a Pioneer Day celebration. We now number more than 100,000 souls. See what God hath wrought!

President Cowley had an interesting story to tell about repentance.

There was a man by the name of Syd who lived in a little Maori village on the east coast of New Zealand. At that time there was a large branch of the Church there with about four hundred members. One Saturday afternoon, after a long, eight-hour drive, President Cowley arrived at this village and went directly to see his old friend, Syd.

As a young man, Syd had been an outstanding athlete. He had attended high school and college in the United States. He had become a well-known basketball player, and, as an all-star athlete, he had received a lot of publicity.

Syd had been ordained a seventy while he had lived in the United States, and when he arrived back in New Zealand, he had found that he was the only seventy in the whole area, and he didn’t have a quorum to belong to. He had become somewhat inactive, and he hadn’t been keeping the Word of Wisdom, but deep within his heart he still knew the gospel to be true.

As a mission president and a friend, President Cowley called on Syd, and found him sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch, smoking a big cigar. Syd didn’t stop chewing on his cigar as President Cowley sat down beside him to visit.

After they had talked and laughed for a while, President Cowley became serious and said, “Syd, I want you to come to church tomorrow. I’m going to release the branch president and put in a new one.”

Syd said, “I haven’t been there for a long time. Why don’t you just tell me who the new branch president will be, and then I won’t have to get myself cleaned up for church in the morning.”

President Cowley said, “Well, I’ll tell you who it is. It’s going to be you.”

Syd pulled that old cigar out of his mouth, looked at it, and said, “President, you mean me and my cigar?”

President Cowley said, “No, Syd—just you. We don’t need your cigar.”

Then Syd threw the cigar out on the ground in front of the porch. He thought for a minute, turned to President Cowley, and very humbly said, “President, I won’t break the Word of Wisdom any more. I’m a full-tithe payer. I’ll be the branch president, and I’ll be worthy. Tomorrow morning I’ll be there, and I promise you that I’ll be the best branch president in the whole country. You won’t have to worry about me and whether or not I’m living the gospel.”

For the next several years, Syd served as one of the strongest and finest leaders in the mission. His son became the first bishop in the ward when the stake was created. Just recently, his grandson was released from serving as a bishop. Syd’s whole family is strong and active in the Church today and is one of the great families in New Zealand. Why? Because old Syd knew how to repent. He repented on the spot. When he was called to repentance, he quit his worldly ways. He became and remained a faithful Saint until the day he died.

In most cases, that’s all there is to repentance. Do you see how really simple that was? President Cowley never did ask Syd to repent. He gave him an opportunity to be of service to the Church in a priesthood calling. Syd knew that if he accepted that calling, he could no longer sin, so he immediately quit. It was over—just like that! The Lord accepted his repentance, and Syd became a great leader.

On July 6, 2024, a brave group of nine missionaries from Grenada, led by Elder Seth Whitehead, a senior missionary, arrived on the scene. Working along with the people from the communities, they distributed food, provided manpower to clean the debris, and tried to comfort those in need of consoling. They committed to returning at a later date to help with a variety of projects. Returning on August 19, the group continued to help by setting up 600 tents from ShelterBox, a nonprofit organization that helps people recover after a disaster. They also continued to show love and support to those who had lost so much.

Our family recently acquired a personal computer, and I enthusiastically set about learning to use it. Having artistic interests, one thing that I found fascinating was a paint program. The first day I had great fun using circles and lines of varying sizes to create simple pictures. The magic of computers was mine!
A couple of days later, as I was exploring the various functions of this same program, I discovered a wealth of type styles and sizes that I could call up and reproduce on the screen. Then I found some preset designs and borders. Now I could make signs and posters. I had arrived!
Eventually, I found in the manual some detailed pictures that could be created with my program. I tried but found it impossible to reproduce them because of the clumsiness of drawing with the mouse attachment. I decided that I must lack some basic coordination gene and resolved to stick to what I already could do.
Then I learned about a command that would magnify an area of any picture so that it could be added to or taken from one small dot at a time. With this knowledge I finally, painstakingly created a picture that was the equal of any example in the manual.
I am still learning new ways to use my computer. But, more importantly, my experience with it has convinced me of the need to continue daily in learning new ways to make the gospel a living, directing force in my life.

President Uchtdorf has special feelings of fondness for the late Elder Theodore M. Burton (1907–89), who served as president of the West German Mission. At a time when many good German Latter-day Saints were leaving their homeland, the Uchtdorf family heeded Elder Burton’s counsel to stay in Germany and build up the Church there. It was Elder Burton who ordained Dieter F. Uchtdorf to the office of elder and gave memorable instruction that Dieter heeded precisely. Sister Harriet Uchtdorf understood the importance of Elder Burton’s counsel for the Uchtdorf family to remain in Europe to strengthen the Church there. It became an imperative for them. Their children have adhered to that same counsel. Now, in jest, the children chide their parents for leaving for the United States, while they have remained in Europe.

Thus the Lord, by revelation, brings inspiration into one’s mind as though a voice were speaking. Elder Harold B. Lee gave this testimony:
“I have a believing heart because of a simple testimony that came when I was a child, I think maybe I was around ten—maybe eleven—years of age. I was with my father out on a farm away from our home, trying to spend the day busying myself until father was ready to go home. Over the fence from our place were some tumbledown sheds which had attracted a curious boy, adventurous as I was. I started to climb through the fence and I heard a voice as clearly as you are hearing mine—‘Don’t go over there!’ calling me by name. I turned to look at father to see if he were talking to me, but he was way up at the other end of the field. There was no person in sight. I realized then, as a child, that there were persons beyond my sight and I had heard a voice. And when I had heard and read these stories of the Prophet Joseph Smith, I, too, know what it means to hear a voice because I’ve heard from an unseen speaker” (Divine Revelation, Brigham Young University Speeches of the Year, Provo, 15 Oct. 1952, p. 6).

Elder Sonne’s parents named him after Alma of old and were promised that he would have the same great faith of his namesake. In an address at Brigham Young University in 1960, he told of a young man, a student at Oxford University, who felt that he was losing his faith and his testimony. Elder Sonne counseled him: “I do not know anything about science and the things which you study, but I can give you some advice. I believe you have been neglecting your faith and your religion. I will promise you this: If you will give as much attention to your religion and to your faith as you do your studies in science, you will not lose faith.”
The young man later told Elder Sonne he had followed his advice and that he no longer doubted the gospel.

Edna Amburo also had difficulty reading the Book of Mormon at first—not just because she found it hard to understand, but because friends told her she was “going to the fire” for reading it. “All my friends told me to burn the book,” she says, “but I decided not to burn it because I felt the Book of Mormon was the word of God.”

Edna was baptized in 1990. Shortly thereafter, she was called to teach the Book of Mormon to seminary students.

“I said, ‘How am I going to teach? I am not an educated woman. I am not a good speaker in English, and I am not a good writer. I left school in grade five.’”

Branch members and the full-time missionaries encouraged Sister Amburo to ask the Lord for help. She took the suggestion seriously and spent a tearful two weeks fasting and praying that the Lord would help her to become an effective teacher.

“I found Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5] and exercised it,” she says. “I saw it was true. I got peace in my heart. I got joy. And I was happy that I was going to teach seminary. I really love the Book of Mormon. I understand it now.”

Sister Amburo attributes her spiritual and intellectual growth to help from her Heavenly Father. In addition to teaching seminary, she teaches Sunday School and serves as a counselor in the Popondetta Branch Relief Society presidency.

“Step by step I came along. The Church has helped me a lot. It is a learning church.”

The clouds hung low and white over the small town of Liberty Bell that twenty-sixth day of December 1908. Sarah Moseley made her way from her family’s house at the end of the street toward the boardwalk, where her new dress would get a brief respite from mud-spraying wagon wheels.
Sarah’s family had been laboring under the stressful effects of no income in recent months, but her mother had managed to rummage up sufficient materials from an old attic chest to fashion a beautiful patchwork dress for Sarah. It was the only gift she had received for Christmas the day before, and she was fitly grateful for and proud of it.
As she continued along the street, she turned the collar of her frayed wrap up around her neck to ward off the biting chill of wind and lightly-driven snow. Suddenly someone wearing a tattered sheepskin coat stepped out in front of her. He had a tangle of red hair, and a crooked scowl on his face. Toby Wilder! Last week he had asked Sarah for some answers to a test in Miss Cornaby’s class, and Sarah had refused. Now he looked ready for revenge. “I would have passed that test if you had slipped me those answers,” he growled.
“There’s a right and a wrong to everything, Toby Wilder,” Sarah said, swallowing hard, “and cheating is wrong.”
Toby glared at her with a look that could have bent an iron poker, then pushed her back toward the edge of the boardwalk. “‘There’s a right and a wrong to everything, Toby Wilder,’” he mimicked. “You think you know all there is to know about what is and what isn’t, don’t you little Miss High-and-Mighty?”
“No,” Sarah told him, her body stiffening with growing fear, “but God does. And He’s told us in the scriptures about honesty.”
Toby glowered at Sarah. He glanced up and down the street through the haze of falling snow. No one was in sight. “Since you’re such good friends with God,” he said mockingly to Sarah, “why don’t you ask Him to keep you from falling down and getting mud all over your new dress?”
Shoving her roughly off the boardwalk, he laughed derisively and swaggered away as she pulled herself up from the street mire. Her eyes welled up with tears as she wiped at the icy ooze on her new Christmas dress and headed for the store.
The bell above the door jangled as Sarah stepped into John Walton’s Mercantile Store. The man behind the counter regarded her solicitously. “What happened, Sarah?” he queried.
“Toby Wilder,” she sighed.
Mr. Walton nodded. “That boy ought to be over somebody’s knee, getting redder than a near-set sun, if you ask me.”
“Yes sir!” Sarah heartily agreed.
“Warm yourself by the stove there.” When Sarah hesitated, he added kindly, “Go on child. There’s no sense in all that warmth going to waste, now, is there?”
“I guess not,” Sarah responded submissively. “It’s just that you’ve given us so much these past few months, all our food and such, that I just don’t feel right about hogging the only spot in front of your stove.” She motioned toward a customer who was stamping the snow from her high-button shoes just outside. “You have paying customers, Mr. Walton. They should be able to warm themselves before someone who—”
“Sarah Moseley,” Mr. Walton declared, “since when did I ever charge a body a cent for warming himself at my potbellied stove?”
Sarah smiled in gratitude and stepped in front of the stove. Mr. Walton came out from behind the counter, nodded to the woman who was making her way to a far corner, and pulled up a chair in front of Sarah. He sat down and spoke privately. “After that boxcar explosion at the depot last September, it’s a wonder your father is still alive. It’ll be a little while yet before he’s up and about.” He pushed a wisp of damp hair from Sarah’s eye. “Your father is a good man,” Mr. Walton continued. “He’ll pay me back when he’s able. Now give me that shopping list I know you have.” Sarah obliged him. “Besides,” he added as he stood with a little grunt, “it’s Christmastime, isn’t it? A time for giving? It would be a shame to deny a man the right to earn a celestial reward in the world to come.”
Sarah’s face wrinkled with curiosity. “What do you mean, Mr. Walton?”
“Christ gave His life for you and me, Sarah, not to mention for those that crucified Him. It seems the least I can do is give a can of beans and”—he checked Sarah’s list—“a box of baking soda and the like to people I love. Of course, that’s easy. The trick is giving to, or doing something for, someone you don’t like. Now there’s the real test. The problem is that I like everybody.” He laughed. “Well, almost everybody.”
Sarah watched Mr. Walton climb the ladder behind the counter. A ray of winter sun made his face radiant. “Why is it so important to be nice to people who are mean to you?” she asked.
Mr. Walton reached for a box of baking soda on a high shelf, then looked down at the girl below him. “Maybe because the Savior was. Maybe because it’s part of forgiving. It’s the same thing, wouldn’t you say?” He climbed down the ladder and began placing the few gathered items in a sack on the counter. “And maybe it’s because of a revelation the Prophet Joseph Smith received once that said, ‘For if you will that I give unto you a place in the celestial world, you must prepare yourselves by doing the things which I have commanded you and required of you.’”* He pushed the groceries across the counter to Sarah. “I have a sneaking notion that charity is one of those things, honey. And that forgiveness is another. What do you think, Sarah?”
“I guess you’re right, Mr. Walton,” Sarah answered, thoughtful.
It wasn’t until Sarah was outside again that she noticed something extra in her sack. A large candy stick. She puzzled over it a moment, then smiled at Mr. Walton’s kindness.
No sooner had Sarah started down the boardwalk in the direction of home than she spied Toby Wilder just ahead, leaning against a pole. His back was to her, and he was looking toward the sun as if he were aching for a little warmth on an otherwise bleak, unfriendly day.
Bracing herself, Sarah stepped up to him. “Toby?”
Toby whirled around. When he saw who it was, he growled, “What’s the matter, Sarah. Didn’t you get wet enough the first time?”
Sarah handed him the candy stick. “Merry Christmas,” she said.
Toby didn’t answer. He just stood there gaping.
Sarah glanced back in the direction of the mercantile store, where she could see Mr. Walton looking out the window, waving. She waved back, then turned and continued down the boardwalk toward home.

The news reached me on a telephone that seldom rang. My two sons and I were working in the yard of a mountain home we built as a place of retreat from my heavy responsibilities as president of Brigham Young University. The caller was Elder Boyd K. Packer. He told me about the revelation on the priesthood, which was just being announced. We exchanged expressions of joy, and I walked back to my work. I sat down on the pile of dirt we had been moving and beckoned to my sons. As I told them that all worthy male members of the Church could now be ordained to the priesthood, I wept for joy.

Take the example of Dr. Blair Bybee. After his call he received additional training in parasitology and nutrition. He was then sent to a Latter-day Saint hospital in a rural area so that he could gain experience in that situation.
Q—How long was this extra training in the rural hospital?
Dr. Mason—Two weeks.
Q—What happens when the health missionary arrives in his field of labor?
Dr. Mason—For the first five months of Elder Bybee’s mission, he performed as any other missionary would. He was a junior companion in a small village. During this time his responsibilities were divided between proselyting (70 percent) and health service (30 percent), as he learned the language and the customs of the Samoan people. Then in January he ended his preparation period and began concentrating on his specific health mission responsibilities. He was assigned by the mission president to create a health education and disease prevention program for all the Saints in Samoa. Appropriate health lessons that had been developed with the help of the BYU faculty and then translated into Samoan during the first five months of his mission were ready for use. He began conducting health seminars in conjunction with district conferences throughout the mission. He is lecturing in village after village—wherever we have a chapel—to members and nonmembers—anyone who wishes to attend—on such subjects as nutrition, alcoholism, baby care, home sanitation, the evils of tobacco, and so forth.

Seven years ago, our son Daniel died by suicide.
The day of his death, we didn’t know where he was. We called all his friends, hospitals, and the police, but nobody had seen him. Daniel had been struggling with depression and suicide ideation for five years, so my wife and I had a feeling about what might have happened. Finally, my wife, Celi, got hold of his roommates, who found him in his room.
I think that losing a child might be the worst thing to happen to a parent. And nothing can take away that pain, but the people around you can do much to help you through your grief. During that horrible time, we did not lack for family, friends, or help. From the very first night we found out he was gone, people reached out. Our neighbors, Daniel’s friends, and our Church leaders came over. Relief Society sisters brought meals, and anonymous donors contributed enough for our needs.
Our bishop later told us that many people had wanted to help but didn’t know how. And so they asked him, “What can we do for the Hunts?”
It hasn’t happened often, but sometimes when people hear about Daniel, they don’t know what to say or how to treat us. I think it’s like when we don’t know how to approach someone who speaks a different language. We don’t know what to say or worry about saying the wrong thing, so instead we just don’t talk to them. But please reach out. Loss is lonely and can be isolating. The fact that we were surrounded by so many who did reach out made all the difference.
One thing we appreciated was how many stories we heard about our son. We do not worry for Daniel. We know what kind of kid he was. We know he was sick, and we know that “the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). And Daniel had a big heart. We know that. But to hear people tell their own stories about Daniel was wonderful.
Nate Olsen was one of Daniel’s friends. They had been buddies since first grade. When Nate had to come home early from his mission for medical reasons, Daniel immediately invited him to lunch. Nate told us how Daniel had been there to listen, love, and encourage—in a time when Nate felt lost and alone. As Nate said, Dan was the kind of person who truly cared about people.
It’s important to be the person you are and to admit you’re human. Sometimes we need to ask for help, to reach out—even when we’re the ones hurting. We can let others in and let them see who we are.
Seven years later, it’s still hard. Sometimes Celi will suddenly start crying, saying, “I miss my baby. I miss my baby.” But she has expressed that she has had comfort through those times—spiritual comfort. Spiritual comfort is perfect communication. Seeking spiritual comfort is the best way to feel perfectly included. And this spiritual comfort includes the human angels who feel inspired to come and help.
Sheri L. Dew, former Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, once shared a story about a General Authority who asked how to tell if someone is a true follower of Jesus Christ. The answer confused me at first, but now I fully agree: “The way you can tell if someone is truly converted to Jesus Christ is by how that person treats others.”1 The Christlike way to treat others is with respect, love, and compassion—no matter who we are or what we’re going through.

None of us had prepared for family home evening. We realized that fact on Sunday morning as we drove to church. Unfortunately, our schedules were such that we could hold home evenings only on Sunday afternoons. Five-year-old Drew immediately announced that he would make popcorn for refreshments. Stuart, our 12-year-old, groaned when we reminded him he was responsible for the lesson and game. It sounded as though the special talent assignment wouldn’t be so special either.
A meeting kept the children and me after church while my wife, Sandi, played the piano for the choir. On the way home, Stuart informed us that while we were waiting, he had checked out a family home evening manual from the meetinghouse library and was ready with the lesson. Things were starting to look up.
That afternoon, seven-year-old Curt welcomed everyone and called on Holly, our two-year-old, to say the opening prayer. Right then, Holly was breaking a house rule by trying to get into Sandi’s piano-teaching materials. We coaxed her up front, where I tried to help her with the prayer. She would say only, “Amen.” We then discovered that her diaper needed changing, so Sandi took her out.
The boys and I discussed how we were going to attend Stuart’s jazz band concert, watch Drew and Curt’s ball game, and give Sandi time to complete a project at the Church cannery—all on Wednesday night. Sandi and Holly returned in time to hear and approve our plan.
Curt then announced talent time. While Holly played a few random notes on the piano, 10-year-old Spencer played his most recent piece on the bass. Then Sandi and Stuart played a lively piano duet.
We had spent so much time on the concert that we all agreed when Sandi suggested we keep family singing to just one song. She got out a songbook and played a march. Stuart and I moved to the piano to sing over her shoulder, the three little ones marched noisily around the living room, and Spencer lay on the couch.
We enjoyed the singing so much we begged Sandi to play another song. We sang again, and Spencer joined us at the piano while the little ones expanded their march route to include the upstairs bedrooms and a few bounces on the couch. Sandi continued to play while I made sure the bounces were deleted from the parade route. We sang three more songs.
Stuart’s lesson began with a treasure hunt. We followed some paper arrows he had previously placed on the floor to two covered baskets, a smaller one on top bearing a large paper X. The kids crowded around as we opened the small basket—labeled “Hidden Treasure of Goodies”—and all enjoyed a piece of candy. Stuart then opened the large basket—labeled “Hidden Spiritual Treasure.” Inside was a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Stuart told us that the Book of Mormon had been a “hidden treasure.” He asked what that meant, and Curt and Spencer took turns telling how Joseph Smith obtained the gold plates from their hiding place in the Hill Cumorah. Sandi and I sat back and listened while the kids answered Stuart’s questions and Holly wandered off downstairs to find some other treasure. She came back with some cards from a board game. We ignored her because she wasn’t bothering anyone. The discussion went on briefly while Holly made several more trips downstairs. Drew lost interest and began to play quietly with Holly and her cards. Stuart concluded with his testimony of the Book of Mormon and challenged each of us to read it every day for a month. He gave us charts to record our reading.
Spencer commented that he and his friend Adam had been looking at the Old Testament after Primary that day and had found a passage that said, “Truth shall spring out of the earth” (Ps. 85:11). He got his Bible and read the passage, explaining that he’d learned the verse was talking about the Book of Mormon.
The discussion was now informal and spontaneous. Curt had lost interest and was playing with Holly and Drew. I pointed out that there are other biblical phrases referring to the Book of Mormon and its below-ground hiding place. We read, “And thy voice shall be, as of one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and thy speech shall whisper out of the dust” (Isa. 29:4).
Spencer commented that other churches would not interpret these passages in the same way. For this reason, he said, we need a spiritual witness that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. That inspired me to ask Stuart how he had received his testimony of the Book of Mormon. He replied that he had received it through study and prayer. After some searching, he read us the promise in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5].
Stuart’s lesson, one of our better ones, had now gone on for about 20 minutes, and the three smaller children were starting to fight over the game cards. Since Stuart hadn’t planned any games to go along with the lesson, someone suggested we play our favorite guessing game using only Book of Mormon stories.
Stuart climbed onto the piano bench and preached while dodging imaginary stones and arrows. We quickly guessed Samuel the Lamanite. I acted out Enos hunting in the forest and praying all day. Sandi dug a pit and buried her sword; we recognized the Ammonites. The smaller kids could think only of Bible stories, so we used the illustrated Book of Mormon Stories to help. We eventually had pantomimes of Ammon defending King Lamoni’s flocks and Christ appearing to the brother of Jared. This game can go on all night at our house, but we stopped after one round.
Spencer, Drew, and I popped popcorn, and Sandi mixed some punch. We talked around the table until the popcorn was gone. Everyone liked Stuart’s suggestion that we plan a time to go to the park to run and walk, so we organized a family outing while we sat around the table. Later on, at bedtime, we had family prayer.
Although our home evening wasn’t perfect, it was a good one for us. We enjoyed being together, we learned a few things, everyone participated at least part of the time, and most participated most of the time.

Let’s just cite one more example where the Lord watched over and protected his Saints in the Church. This is found in the History of the Church: There were threats of a mob on June 19, 1834. As the Mormons were making camp, five men rode up and told them that they would “see hell before morning.” They stated that an armed force from Richmond, Ray, and Clay counties was to join a Jackson County force at the Fishing River ford, bent on the utter destruction of the camp.
While these five men were in the camp, cursing and swearing vengeance, signs of an approaching storm were seen. No sooner had these men left the camp than the storm burst forth in all its fury. Hailstones struck, so large that they cut limbs from the trees, and the limbs fell all around the camp while the trees were twisted from their roots by the force of the wind. The earth trembled and quaked, and the streams became raging torrents, and the mobbers dispersed, seeking shelter that could not be found. One mobber was killed by lightning and another had his hand torn off by a fractious horse, and in fear they dispersed, saying that if that was the way God fought for the “Mormons” they would go about their business.
On the morning of June 21 (just two days later) Colonel Sconce, with two companions, visited the camp to learn what the intentions of the members were. He said: “I see there is an almighty power that protects this people, for I started from Richmond, Ray County, with a company of armed men, having a fixed determination to destroy you, but was kept back by the storm.”
The Prophet then related to these men the sufferings of the Saints, and they left the camp offering to use their influence. (See History of the Church, 2:103–6.)
During all this storm the members of the camp were protected from its fury. Why were they protected? Because of their collective obedience to the Lord.

I just finished reading the September New Era. It was the first Church magazine I have had the pleasure of reading. Thanks. It helps me. I am presently in the U.S. Coast Guard, stationed at the San Francisco Airport.
I was baptized into the Church a little over two years ago. It marked a turning point in my life and helped me to find peace of mind. Shortly thereafter I enlisted in the coast guard. I went through a tough boot camp and spent some great Sundays with other guys in the Church. I can remember someone saying that there was a reason for us to be there and that our Heavenly Father had a purpose for us.
After two trips to the Antarctic and one to the Arctic on the Glacier, the biggest coast guard icebreaker, I enrolled in aviation school for six months. Then it happened—Millington, Tennessee, and the greatest little branch you’ll ever see. I can’t begin to express my love for those people back there. I had been there less than a month when the branch president called me as a Sunday School teacher. I loved it. My students helped me to gain a testimony of my own. I was living off the joy that everyone else poured into me, when suddenly I found out for myself the sweet, honest, joyful truth of the gospel.
My testimony got me started into many Church activities, such as our roadshow, which took first place. Then there was the branch sweet potato project. I can remember the men and boys working in the field early one morning and then coming back to a good hot breakfast prepared by the sisters of the branch, while the girls watched the little children. Fantastic! I was later appointed teacher of the Blazers in Primary. Just think! I played a part in preparing those boys for the Aaronic Priesthood! You should drop out to Millington, Tennessee, sometime and be filled with the Spirit.
Thanks again for the joy your magazine brings.
Kurt CattonLos Altos Hills, California

Covenants include promises, “even of life eternal.” All things will work together for our good if we remember our covenants. They must be made and kept to fully receive the promises they provide. Love for the Savior and remembering our covenants will help us keep them. Partaking of the sacrament is one way to remember them. Another way is to attend the temple often. I remember a young married couple in South America who wanted to separate because they could not get along. A priesthood leader counseled them to attend the temple and pay specific attention to the words and promises of the covenants made there. They did so and their marriage was saved. The power of our covenants is greater than any challenge we face or we may face.

“Margaret and Neil, take this wheat to the gristmill on City Creek, please,” Mother said.
Neil smiled happily. He was only four years old, but he liked to help Mother as much as he could. He proudly took the small bag of wheat kernels in his arms.
“I’ll carry it,” Margaret announced, snatching the bag from Neil’s arms. “You’re too little. You might drop it, and you know we can’t afford to lose any of it!”
That was certainly true! When the Gardner family had arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on October 3, 1847, they had rejoiced that they had reached this sanctuary for the Saints. But that didn’t mean that everything was perfect. Now it was winter, and Neil was often hungry. Each family received a little wheat given out by weight. They ate sego and thistle roots. Once in a while hunters brought meat to the settlers.
When they got to the gristmill, Neil watched carefully as the wheat was ground. When a handful of kernels spilled on the floor while it was being ground, he and Margaret sprang to gather it up. Margaret wrapped it in her handkerchief. That evening they would parch it on the top of the stove at home. No food could be wasted.
After that cold, hungry winter, spring finally came, and Neil’s family moved to Mill Creek, a few miles from Salt Lake City. They planted a small crop of wheat. When the grain came up, it looked so strong and good. How wonderful it would be to have plenty of flour next winter! But then the crickets came.
Crickets were everywhere. There seemed to be no end to them. They were big and black and ate everything in their paths. Everyone worked in the fields, trying to kill the insects. But it seemed useless. There were just so many crickets.
Finally a day of fasting and prayer was planned. Father and the other men went to Salt Lake to pray for help from Heavenly Father.
While Father was gone, Neil, Mother, and Margaret went into the fields again to fight the crickets. Neil was tired, and the thought of another hungry winter made him want to cry. As they worked, it suddenly became darker. Neil looked up and saw thousands of gulls in the sky. Mother threw up her hands in despair. “What the crickets won’t take, those birds will!” she exclaimed.
Mother sat down and cried. Neil cried too. He didn’t know what would become of his family.
Too tired to fight the bird invaders, Neil and his mother and sister watched the seagulls.
“Mother, look!” Neil shouted. “The gulls aren’t eating our wheat. They are eating the crickets!”
“I believe you are right!” Mother said.
Mother, Margaret, and Neil held hands and danced in a circle. They hugged and laughed. The gulls were saving their wheat!
Suddenly, Mother stopped dancing and dropped to her knees. “Come, children,” she said. “These gulls were sent by Heavenly Father to save His children. Let us give thanks to Him.”
The three of them prayed right there in the wheat field. Neil never forgot the miracle of the gulls.

Last June I couldn’t bring myself to attend girls’ camp, but the reports I have received are beautiful. Shannon’s group of fourth-year girls performed “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God” at the first night fireside and dedicated it to my daughter. Every night thereafter they used “our song” as the closing song at the campfire meeting. The new Beehives did not know Shannon, but they could feel the Spirit as the tears flowed and the notes were sung.

On one occasion, I was with President Marion G. Romney. He spoke to a large gathering of young people. Afterwards, a returned missionary came up to shake his hand. As he did he said,
“Brother Romney, when I was a missionary I had a question that no one knew the answer to. Let me take advantage of your time for a moment and ask you.”
He then asked a rather complicated question, the answer to which could have been found in the scriptures.
President Romney listened attentively for a few moments and then replied, “That is a very good question. When you find the answer, let me know, will you please?”
As we left the hall he commented to me, obviously referring to the young man and his question,
“As a boy my father always taught me that when I wanted a drink I should go to where the spring flowed out of the ground and not downstream where the cattle had been muddying the water. He’ll be better off if he finds the answer for himself.”

Shortly after my baptism, the branch president called me and said, “Sister Gamanga, the Spirit has directed me to call you to be the Relief Society president.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “I don’t know how to read, I don’t know how to write, and you want to call me? What is the meaning of that?”

He explained that I would invite the women to church, talk to them, and help them. “With God, I can do it,” I said.

Since that day, so many things have happened in my life. I started reading only two-letter words, then three-letter words. I then moved from three-letter words to four-letter words, then five to six-letter words. This has helped me teach in Relief Society.

If there is something I don’t understand, I ask for help. My problem is spelling. I don’t know how to pronounce some spellings, but I get help so I can understand. When I’m teaching, I ask one of the Relief Society sisters to help with any words I don’t know. That is the way I teach in class. Each time I ask for help, I learn more.