Gospel Story Finder

“See, Mom!” I was almost shouting as we walked into the cultural hall. “Nobody’s here!”
She looked down at me with a slight grimace. “There are plenty of people here. It’s early. More people will come.”
I knew that more people would come, but none of them would be from my class. There were only four of us, and the other guys never came to any of the Primary service projects. I only came because Mom and Dad made me. It was a real waste of my time.
Sister Montgomery, the first counselor in the Primary presidency, came over to us. “Good morning, Sister Drew. I’m glad Rick could join us today.”
I stared at the floor.
“I’m sure that he’ll have fun making up bags to take to the less-active children in the Primary.” Sister Montgomery paused. “Why don’t we go over to that table and paint, Rick?”
I looked up. Painting was one of my favorite things to do. Sister Montgomery took me to the table with small ceramic figures on it. “You can paint three, if you’d like. There aren’t very many of us here today.”
I looked into the box and chose three pairs of Noah’s ark animals. Those were the ones I’d like to be given.
After I finished painting, Sister Montgomery had me decorate three paper sacks. The little kids were having a ball. I guess they like to cut and paste.
I wasn’t done with my second bag, when Brother Kennedy, the ward mission leader, came in. Sister Peterson, the Primary President, had us sit in a semicircle around him. He told us about how we could be missionaries by being friendly to the less-active children in our ward. He talked for a long time. I listened really closely until Brother Tisch came in with a couple of big brown boxes and a few gallons of milk. I watched him take doughnuts out of the big boxes. I wanted one with the colorful sprinkles.
Before I knew it, a bunch of the little kids were running up to the table—Brother Kennedy had finished!
“Rick, you can get a doughnut now, too.” Sister Montgomery was standing next to me.
I stood up and walked as fast as I could, but it was too late. All the sprinkled doughnuts were gone. I had to settle for a plain-frosted one. I sat on the floor and ate it slowly.
After eating, we finished decorating the bags, then put some treats, a church schedule, one ceramic figure, and a picture of the Savior into each one.
“Because there aren’t very many of us here today, each group will have to visit a few extras,” Sister Peterson announced.
I groaned—more time wasted!
Some of the leaders walked around with slips of paper with the addresses of those we were going to visit. Other leaders were gathering the classes into groups.
“I guess it’s you and me, Rick!” Brother Tisch put his hand on my shoulder. “Where’s your coat?”
I trudged over to the coatrack. I didn’t want to go outside. It had been cold when we came to the church, and it would take forever for the cars to warm up.
I returned to where Brother Tisch was, and we grabbed the bags. He led the way out the door. I turned toward the parking lot. Almost everyone was gone, and all of the cars I saw had people already in them.
“Rick,” Brother Tisch called from behind me.
I turned around. The bags were in a red wagon. Brother Tisch was pulling it by the handle. “My wife had to run some errands with our car, so I borrowed my daughter’s wagon.”
I just stood there.
“Come on, Rick—let’s go! If we walk quickly, it won’t be too cold.”
Brother Tisch checked an address on a slip of paper, and we walked to the house that was farthest from the chapel. “This is Diana’s house.”
“Brother Tisch, I really don’t want to go up there. She goes to my school.”
Brother Tisch nodded. I was sure glad that he understood. I stayed by the wagon while he knocked on the door. No one was home. Great! I thought.
Brother Tisch returned to the wagon with a smile on his face. “I’ll take this one to her later.”
We walked to the next house. This time the girl on our list was home. She smiled as Brother Tisch told her about the bag. I didn’t say anything. The same thing happened at the next two houses.
“Rick, I’d like you to talk to the next boy. He should be in your Primary class.” Brother Tisch had stopped walking. “Would you please do it?”
I hesitated.
“Just do it the way I did,” Brother Tisch reassured me.
I nodded, though my stomach jumped a little. This bag-giving stuff looked pretty easy. Besides, I knew Carl pretty well from school. I hadn’t known that he was supposed to be in my Primary class, though.
I knocked on the door. When Carl came to the door, I gave him the bag and told him all about it, just the way Brother Tisch had.
Carl stood there quietly. After I finished, he said “Thanks” and shut the door. For a second, I thought I saw tears in his eyes. But I must have been mistaken. It was only a silly bag of stuff.
Brother Tisch walked me home. We didn’t talk much. I was thinking about the look on Carl’s face.
The next day, as I walked into Primary and looked at the row of chairs where my class sits, Carl was there!
“Thanks for the bag. I never knew when church started. My mom and dad don’t go to our meetings very often, and I always feel kind of dumb asking about it.” Carl had a big smile on his face. “I put the picture right next to my bed, so I can see it every day!”
I felt a warm feeling grow inside of me. It seemed to start in my chest and move up to my face, and I had to smile, too.

My father grew up in the small town of Monticello, Utah. When he was seven, one of his daily chores was to bring the family’s cows in from their pasture. His prized possession was his pocketknife, which he always kept with him. One day as he was riding his horse to fetch the cows, he reached into his pocket for his knife. To his dismay he realized he had lost it somewhere along the trail. He was heartbroken, but he believed what he had been taught by his father and mother: God hears and answers prayers.
He stopped his horse and slid off its bare back to the ground. There he knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help him find his pocketknife. He climbed back on his horse, turned around, and rode back down the trail. After some distance his horse stopped. Dad climbed off the horse and put his hand into the deep dust on the trail. There, buried in the dust, he found his prized pocketknife. He knew that the Lord had heard and answered his prayer.
Because he had learned to listen to and act upon the whisperings of the Spirit, my father was blessed to see the hand of the Lord on many occasions throughout his life. He witnessed many miracles. Yet when he gathered his family to teach us the gospel, he often spoke of his experience on the dusty trail in Monticello when the Lord heard and answered the prayer of a “freckle-faced seven-year-old boy.”
In his later years he told us that he had learned something else from this childhood experience. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “I learned that God can speak to horses!”
My father’s experience as a young boy left a lasting impression on him because it was the beginning of his personal spiritual education. This was when he learned for himself that God hears prayers. This was when he began, as the Prophet Joseph Smith termed it, to learn the Spirit of God.1

Even an unbelievable spring blizzard didn’t stop the modern-day pioneers of Kearns and Ogden (Utah) who found out firsthand what their ancestors went through.
No one expected as much snow as the two groups ran into in their April handcart and covered wagon treks. But it didn’t stop either group from experiencing doughy scones, burnt skirts, raw-potato stew, and square dancing in mud.
The Kearns group of 50 individuals, both youths and parents, pulled hand-carts more than 43 miles, with seminary youths averaging four miles per hour. Dressed in pioneer clothing, the group spent one night in barracks built in 1857.
They weren’t without their problems, however. The 14 handcarts that had been constructed for the event were often overpacked—wheels gave way and water had to be dumped. It meant everyone had to pitch in to help and the food that remained dry had to be pooled. Half of the group didn’t complete the trek because of the severe weather.
Having followed the Pony Express route to Saratoga, Utah, the trek ended with a swim in a heated outdoor pool—in the snow.

One day at recess, Isabella saw a girl who was crying because someone had said something mean to her. Isabella felt bad for the girl and walked over to comfort her. “Would you like to play with me?” she asked the girl.
That day Isabella served with her heart. She followed the example of Jesus Christ and showed love to someone in need. We can show our love for Heavenly Father by serving others with our heart, our might, our mind, and our strength. We can serve with our whole selves!

Some time ago one of our daughters was assigned to speak on Christmas Sunday. The topic was “How can we become shepherds this Christmas season?” Let me quote from her talk:
The highlight of Christmas at the Clarkes was always Christmas Eve. The day was spent baking, cooking, wrapping, and busily getting everything ready for the evening ahead. We would bundle up in our hats and gloves and head to God’s Acre, the square in the center of town with a different denomination of church on each of the four corners. The town band would play Christmas carols, and people of all faiths would gather and sing together. All were there for the same purpose: to celebrate the birth of our Savior. But this was just the beginning of the evening.
After caroling, we would head back home, where the feast we had been working on all day would quickly come together for all to enjoy. The month before, my parents would begin asking around the ward to find out who did not have somewhere to go for Christmas Eve. Whoever they might be, they were always invited to our home for the festivities. We lived on the East Coast, far from our relatives, so my parents decided we would be family to those around us, and they would be family for us.
One year when my older siblings were at college and heading home for the holidays, it was mentioned that maybe Christmas Eve would be just for our family this year.
When Christie arrived home from BYU, she asked Mom, “Who is coming for Christmas Eve?”
My mother commented that this year we were going to have just our family because three of our siblings had been away.
Christie then said, “But Mom, what will our Iranian friends do? What will the Toomeys do? And what will Rune do for Christmas Eve?”
These people were counting on us, and we couldn’t change our tradition. Christie had felt the wondrous blessings of having these special sheep in our home for Christmas, and it meant everything to her!
The feast would always be for at least forty or so. In addition to the families that were invited, my ­parents always invited the local zone of missionaries to our home for Christmas Eve. After dinner we would move to the living room for the Christmas program.
The evening was centered on the true meaning of Christmas: celebrating the birth of our Savior. My dad would read the Christmas story from Luke, and then we would go around the room with everyone having the opportunity to share their testimony of Jesus Christ. At the end of the evening everyone received a gift.
In this story—the story of the Christmas Eves of my childhood—the shepherds are my parents. They opened up their home to those who had nowhere else to go. These people were family and were treated as such.

Equally unwelcome was the “shower” that fell on the little town of Coonamble, Australia. People dashed for cover and shops closed hurriedly as millions of beetles fell from the sky. Householders worked at top speed trying to make doors and windows beetle-proof, but it was practically impossible to keep the invaders at bay. It was two days before life in the town even began to return to normal and much longer before the beetles were completely cleared from pantries, cupboards, bedrooms, and attics.

This lesson came full circle a couple of years later, when I was eight or nine years old. My father’s doctor’s office was downtown, and I would occasionally stop by to visit him on my way home from school. One day I stopped by, and my father invited me into his office. He said, “I have something I want you to do for me.”
“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”
My dad took from his desk four crisp twenty-dollar bills and said, “I want you to deposit these in the bank for me.” Now, $80 at that time would be worth about $300 or $400 today. That was a lot of money to a little kid.
My father filled out a deposit slip and gave it to me along with the bills. He then asked me to take the money with the deposit slip down the street to the Raymond branch of the Bank of Montreal. I remember thinking at the time, “This is a lot of money! I could buy anything with this much money!” but I quickly got rid of the idea. I knew my father had trusted me with the money, and I didn’t want to betray his trust.
I went straight to the bank and got in line to make the deposit. I remember being the only little person standing in that line. I received a receipt from the cashier, and when my dad came home that night, I proudly gave it to him. He was very kind and told me how much he trusted me and how proud he was that I’d done what he’d asked me to do.

Anna liked going to Sunbeam class. She liked her teachers, Brother and Sister Lee. She liked the lessons about Jesus. She liked knowing the words to the songs.
But now she wouldn’t be in the Sunbeam class anymore. Today she would be in a new Primary class. She would have new teachers. She would sit in a new row in singing time. She would have a new classroom.
Anna was nervous. She wanted to sit with Sister Lee. She tried not to cry as she walked into the Primary room.
One of her new teachers smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Sister Ball. What’s your name?”
“I’m Anna,” Anna said.
Sister Ball patted the chair next to her. “Would you like to sit by me? This is my first time in Primary.”
Anna sat down by Sister Ball. “I can help you. I know all the songs!”
“Thank you,” said Sister Ball. “That would be a big help.”
Soon her friend Beth came in. Last year she was in the Sunbeam class with Anna. Beth sat by Anna.
“This is Beth,” Anna told Sister Ball.
Anna smiled. She liked her new Primary class after all!

All eight of my great-grandparents joined the Church in Europe. They were very faithful in the Church. After that, some of my ancestors didn’t keep living the gospel. Because of this, my parents didn’t go to church very much when I was a child.
I loved my parents. They taught me very important lessons. I can’t thank them enough for our happy home. But even as a boy, I knew I was missing something because our family didn’t go to church very much. One day I rode a streetcar to a bookstore to find a book about the Church. I loved learning about the gospel.
When I learned about the Word of Wisdom, I realized my parents weren’t living the way it teaches us to live. But I wanted them to! So one day, I broke every bottle of alcohol in my home on the concrete floor! I thought my father would punish me, but he never said anything to me about it.
As I got older, I kept learning about the gospel. I began to understand Heavenly Father’s beautiful plan. I got baptized when I was 16 years old. At Christmastime, I often said to myself, “I don’t want one more Christmas present! I just want to be sealed to my parents in the temple.” I waited many years for that dream to come true. When my parents were over 80 years old, we were finally sealed as a family! I felt great joy that day. Each day, I still feel so happy that they were sealed together and that I was sealed to them.
“Pour out your heart to your Heavenly Father. Turn to Him for answers and for comfort.” —President Russell M. Nelson
See Primary manual, page 91.

Elder Koichi Aoyagi of the 2nd Quorum of the 70 spoke in April General Conference about his life changing as a result of a seemingly "small thing" that someone did for him. In his talk, he told of his conversion at age 17 in Matsumoto Japan.
He said:
"The next year I entered the university in Yokohama. Living alone, far from my hometown and the people I knew, I became lonely and strayed from the Church. One day I received a postcard from a Church member back home. She wrote that she had heard I was not attending Church meetings. She quoted a scripture and invited me to return to church. I was overwhelmed by the words of the scripture. This helped me realize that maybe I had lost something important, and I pondered and struggled for many days..."
"I realized that I was not praying with all of my heart and decided to do so. ...Through the power of the Holy Ghost, I learned that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, live and that They truly appeared to Joseph Smith. I made a commitment in my heart to repent and faithfully follow Jesus Christ for the rest of my life." "This spiritual experience changed my life completely! I decided to serve a mission out of gratitude to the Lord and to the Church member who rescued me. Following my mission, I was sealed in the temple to a wonderful girl, and we have been blessed with four children. Not coincidentally, this is the same girl who saved me by sending a postcard to that lonely apartment in Yokohama many years ago. I remain ever grateful for the mercy of the Lord and the help of this Church member, who invited me to once again come unto Christ."[1]

While still a BYU student himself, my father—like almost every graduate in this auditorium—was profoundly touched by the mentoring and friendship of remarkable professors at this university. He particularly recalls a conversation with Dr. Robert K. Thomas, who served as the university’s provost.

“The problem,” said Dr. Thomas, “is that so many of our students leave with the idea that they should seek material prosperity, worldly influence, and prestige—that this is what the Lord meant when He said, ‘Let your light so shine before men.’”

Then, lifting his hand and tracing a rising arc, he said, “But all too often, by the time their star is up—the light is out.”

Looking my father squarely in the eye, he said, “Don’t let that happen to you.”

First, I would like to tell you about the angel who consented to be my wife after I had made four marriage proposals. When Shelley was fifteen years old, she had an experience that changed the rest of her life. At a youth conference, she unexpectedly met an apostle. He did not know Shelley or her family, but he invited her to do something really surprising. He asked, “Will you kiss your father on the cheek every night and tell him that you love him for one full year?”

Shelley agreed, even though silently she thought, “This is going to be impossible!”

The apostle did not know that her father was a wonderful but very, very reserved man. Shelley had never seen her father kiss anyone, including her mother, and she had never heard her father say, “I love you,” to anyone. But, as impossible as it seemed, she decided to do what an apostle had invited her to do.

The first few nights as she kissed her father on the cheek and said, “I love you, Dad,” he did not react positively at all.

She persisted night after night, but her father would simply sit rigid, like a statue, while she kissed him on the cheek and said, “I love you, Dad.”

This continued for one entire year. By then it felt good expressing love to him, so she decided to continue. Eventually, one night she heard her father whisper, “I love you, too.” The next night, he kissed her on the cheek as well.

A few days later, her beloved father suddenly passed away from a heart attack.

Please don’t misunderstand. I am not telling you to kiss people who don’t want to be kissed. I am not telling you that it is okay for anyone to react to kindness with anger. I am telling you of the power that has come into Shelley’s life because she learned at a very young age to follow the prophets of God.

Shelley’s father did not join the Church before he passed away, but many years later another apostle asked her, “Shelley, do you know why the Spirit clearly prompted that apostle to invite you to do what he invited you to do?” He then said, “It was because Heavenly Father knew that you could soften your father’s heart before he passed away so that he could accept the gospel on the other side of the veil.”

After serving a full-time mission in Scotland for the Church, Darrell went back to work at the solicitors’ practice of Lester and Russell. He enjoyed the work and the solicitors loved him and his work ethic.

They encouraged him to go to the careers office to find out what he would need to do to become a legal executive. Darrell was encouraged to pursue the vocation that meant the most to him. It was to be a pivotal conversation, for he left the office determined to follow a career in music. The advisor had told him that such a path promised little money or future, and yet something had been sparked in the young man’s imagination; even though the path was far from straightforward, he had a vision to follow.

At the age of 23 he auditioned for the London College of Music, using both voice and instrument (piano) as part of the audition. He was successful, and in 1990 started at the college as a mature student. Darrell was mindful of the career advisor’s warning, but his love of his chosen field blossomed and overrode any other practical or financial concerns.

During his time at the London College of Music he attended a performance of The Magic Flute at the English National Opera. There he had an epiphany, setting the wheels in motion for the next shift in his career.

Transferring to the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester, Darrell won a prestigious competition and was employed by the Glyndebourne Festival Opera. His voice was starting to be heard.

Darrell graduated in 1997 and attended Brigham Young University in Utah, USA to complete his master’s degree. From there, he moved to New York City to study at the Manhattan School of Music, for his third degree in the subject he had once failed while still a struggling schoolboy.

Whilst in New York he met and married Jennifer Welch, a renowned opera singer in her own right. In 2005 Darrell, Jenny and their two little sons moved back to Utah where they were both asked to teach at BYU. Darrell was eventually offered a full-time position, and Jenny decided to be a full-time mother.

As a professor of music for 14 years, Darrell was hugely successful, with his students winning major international opera competitions. One of his students, Rachel Willis-Sørensen, was invited to sing at Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party at Buckingham Palace, who has since gone on to be a highly successful recording artist.

In 2019, Darrell was approached by the world-renowned Juilliard School and offered a full-time faculty position. Darrell, Jenny and now five children moved back to New York.

His abilities opened many doors. He was part of the Channel Four programme on Glyndebourne Festival Opera; he sang with the BBC Symphony Chorus in the Last Night of the Proms; and he was a soloist at the BBC Proms at The Royal Albert Hall, and a member of The Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square. He has also sung at the Metropolitan Opera and Carnegie Hall.

In 2021 it was announced that Darrell would be chair of the music faculty at the Juilliard School. It can be no surprise to learn that his students have also won many competitions and have appeared on The Voice and America’s Got Talent. One student has also been nominated for a Grammy award.

Not bad for a young man who failed O-level music and was told a career in music had no future.

In Darrell’s words, “Never give up your hopes of doing something you love! I always knew I had a passion for music; my 16-year-old self just didn’t know it.”

Because of a car accident, Martin Verman, 17, of the Wednesfield Ward, Lichfield England Stake, was not able to play with his football team in the finals for the Town Cup. But he won a medal anyway.
Martin played so well during the rest of the season that organizers decided he deserved recognition too. This year he is the team captain.
Martin would like to attend Oxford University after his mission. He is a fourth-year seminary student and says, “Seminary has been a major source of spiritual inspiration for my life.”

Both Arvind and Geeta Naidu are from Fiji and claim Indian heritage. Despite having lived in the U.S. for many years, they haven’t forgotten their Indian roots and have been to India several times looking for their ancestors.

Geeta explained, “In Fiji we are separated from India. We have lost contact. There are millions of us out there that love India and want to connect to our ancestors.”

Geeta’s grandfather Ibrahim was a Muslim. “He came from the village of Diwari in Haryana in 1911 as an indentured servant to work in the sugar cane fields,” she said. “He became a Christian, married and had four children. When his wife died in childbirth, he left them in an orphanage and returned to India. I am looking for him.”

Geeta continued, “We came to India trying to find our forefathers, but our initial attempts were fruitless, so we changed our strategy. A friend who is a family history consultant suggested that maybe the Lord’s mission for me was to become a ‘heart specialist’ to my people first, and it would lead me to my nana. These inspired words motivated us to turn our focus to our fellow Indian members to help them catch the vision of family history and temple work.”

In 2017, after returning from my mission, I embarked on an academic journey fueled by faith and determination. I enrolled in a computer school, dedicating a year to acquiring valuable skills. My resolve grew stronger, leading me to take the university entrance exam. To my delight, I was successfully admitted that same year.
Amidst my academic pursuits, I learned about the Benson Agricultural and Food Scholarship. Despite applying twice, I faced disappointment as there were insufficient funds. However, my fortune changed when I met Karen Melby Teerlink, the missionary couple dedicated to welfare. With their support, I was finally awarded the scholarship.
Since receiving the Benson scholarship, my life has transformed remarkably. At Stella Maris Polytechnic University, I consistently achieved honor roll status, a testament to the comprehensive support provided by the scholarship, covering all fees, including books and other expenses.
The scholarship alleviated my financial struggles, allowing me to focus on my studies. This opportunity enabled me to serve as a student leader, a favorite among students, and a trusted communicator within the administration. I had the privilege to conduct surveys for the Center for Agricultural Research Institute (CARI) on integrated rice and fish farming, and for World Fish under CARI, as well as a survey for Solidaridad on cocoa seeding and plantain suckers. These experiences were invaluable and only possible because of the scholarship.
Today, I am proud to be the first in my family to earn a BS degree. This milestone sets a precedent for my siblings, encouraging them to pursue higher education. Inspired by the scholarship’s impact, I initiated an animal husbandry project, starting with pig raising and planning to expand to other animals like goats and cattle. My vision includes establishing an agribusiness that encompasses the entire value chain process, benefiting end consumers.
Currently, I am pursuing agribusiness studies at BYU-Idaho, an opportunity made possible by the scholarship and the support of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am immensely grateful for these blessings and the positive changes in my life. The scholarship has not only advanced my education but also instilled a deep sense of responsibility to give back to society with the knowledge and skills I have gained.
My journey is a testament to the power of faith, perseverance, and the profound impact of the Benson Scholarship. I am committed to making a difference in my community and beyond, forever indebted to those who have supported me along the way.

We will have opportunities throughout our lives to share our beliefs, although we don’t always know when we will be called upon to do so. Such an opportunity came to me in 1957, when I worked in the publishing business and was asked to go to Dallas, Texas, sometimes called “the city of churches,” to address a business convention. Following the conclusion of the convention, I took a sightseeing bus ride through the city’s suburbs. As we passed the various churches, our driver would comment, “On the left you see the Methodist church” or “There on the right is the Catholic cathedral.”

As we passed a beautiful red brick building situated upon a hill, the driver exclaimed, “That building is where the Mormons meet.” A lady in the rear of the bus called out, “Driver, can you tell us something more about the Mormons?”

The driver pulled the bus over to the side of the road, turned around in his seat, and replied, “Lady, all I know about the Mormons is that they meet in that red brick building. Is there anyone on this bus who knows anything more about the Mormons?”

I waited for someone to respond. I gazed at the expression on each person’s face for some sign of recognition, some desire to comment. Nothing. I realized it was up to me to do as the Apostle Peter suggested, to “be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.” I also realized the truth of the adage “When the time for decision arrives, the time for preparation is past.”

For the next 15 or so minutes, I had the privilege of sharing with those on the bus my testimony concerning the Church and our beliefs. I was grateful for my testimony and grateful that I was prepared to share it.

Here is one instance from an official account.1 During fighting in Somalia in October of 1993, two United States Army Rangers in a helicopter during the firefight learned that two other helicopters near them had fallen to the earth. The two rangers, in their relative safety aloft, learned by radio that no ground forces were available to rescue one of the downed aircrews. Growing numbers of the enemy were closing in on the crash site.

The two men watching from above volunteered to go down to the ground (the words they used on the radio were to “be inserted”) to protect their critically wounded comrades. Their request was denied because the situation was so dangerous. They asked a second time. Permission was again denied. Only after their third request were they put down on the ground.

Armed only with their personal weapons, they fought their way to the crashed helicopter and the injured fliers. They moved through intense small arms fire as enemies converged on the crash site. They pulled the wounded from the wreckage. They put themselves in a perimeter around the wounded, placing themselves in the most dangerous positions. They protected their comrades until their ammunition was depleted and they were fatally wounded. Their bravery and their sacrifice saved the life of a pilot who would have been lost.

They were each awarded posthumously the Medal of Honor, their nation’s highest recognition for bravery in the face of an armed enemy. The citation reads that what they did was “above and beyond the call of duty.”

But I wonder if they saw it that way as they moved to the downed airmen. Out of loyalty they felt a duty to stand by their fellow soldiers, whatever the cost. The courage to act and their selfless service came from feeling that they were responsible for the lives, the happiness, and the safety of comrades.

When my mission call came, I read the letter until I got to where it said ‘Birmingham.’ I thought, well, it’s going to be cold there in England. Then I read again and I saw that it said Alabama Birmingham Mission. I had to go find a map of the United States so I could see where I was going.”
That’s how Elder Terrence John Brooks of Perth, Australia, discovered he would be heading north to serve in the South.
“I got to Alabama in February 1984. So far I’ve served in Sylacauga, Florence, Bessemer, and now I’m in Montgomery.”
And in Montgomery a surprise was in store.
“When I got my mission call to Alabama, I laughed,” said Elder Graeme Thomas McKim of Adelaide, Australia. “It was the last place I was thinking of and there was sort of disbelief. But I was really happy. I thought it would be an interesting foreign country. My friends couldn’t believe it. I got heaps of Alabama jokes poured upon me in Southern accents. My mum was a little bit apprehensive; but she was just happy, as was the rest of my family, that I was going on a mission.
“My first assignment was in Troy for four months. Then came transfers.”
And, of course, Elder Brooks and Elder McKim ended up as companions. Now they make the rounds door-to-door in Montgomery, causing a few double takes when people hear their conversation.
“Most people think we’re English,” Elder McKim said.
“Someone told me I had a nice South Dakota accent,” Elder Brooks chimed in. “A man in Florence asked me if I could understand English better than I could speak it.”
The elders are quick to add, however, that they are in the South to preach the gospel, not to talk about their homeland.
“The fact that we are ‘foreign’ stirs a desire in people to speak to us,” Elder McKim said. “They want to know what we think about America. They want to know about Australia. They are curious about the way we speak and why we are here, even more so as we labor together. It’s the same with the members, too. We are the first Australians many of them have ever known.
“But laboring here in Montgomery with another Australian only makes a difference as far as the initial reaction,” Elder Brooks said. “It doesn’t make a great deal of difference as far as teaching the gospel is concerned.
“To me the most spiritual thing a person can do is to find, teach, and then to baptize someone, to watch them grow, to go through their adjustments and trials with them. To go through these trials and come out with a testimony of the gospel is the greatest thing that can happen.”
Elder McKim agreed. “I’ve had several spiritual experiences since coming on my mission, but the one that comes to mind happened in Troy. We’d been working all day, but we hadn’t been very successful. Then one woman invited us in. At first she was cool toward us, polite. But we talked to her and taught her a lesson and noticed that tears were coming to her eyes. The Spirit was very strong.
“At the end of the lesson, she told us that for weeks she had been depressed and that the night before, at her lowest ebb, she prayed that the Lord would send someone to help her. The next day, there we were! It was such a great experience for me because I had heard so many stories like that before in magazines like the New Era. You hear these stories, and you think it would never happen to you. But it did!”
Elder McKim, 19, was actually born in Glasgow, Scotland. “We moved to Australia when I was five. My parents are converts to the Church. Most of the children were born after my parents were sealed in the London Temple. My father was a stake patriarch in Glasgow. He was set apart by President Kimball, who was at the time a member of the Quorum of the Twelve.
“I was brought up in the Church, and when I was a little boy I knew I was going to go on a mission. But as the time grew near, I planned to put it off until the end of the college year. Then one night I just had this feeling that I had to go on my mission and I wasn’t to put it off. I talked to my bishop and put my papers in. And I’m glad I did. My mission has drastically changed my life and my ideals. Things which I thought were important are so trivial now. And things which I really didn’t think of before are now so important.”
Elder Brooks’s story is quite different.
“I am a convert to the Church of four and a half years, the only member in my family. I became interested in the Church through a girl I dated that was a Mormon. My testimony came slowly over a period of ten months. I really didn’t want it to be true because it meant I would need to change my life-style. But the more I was exposed to the Church the more convinced I became that it was true. The things that rang true were that there is a prophet on the earth today and that there is modern revelation. As a child I always wondered why the Bible stopped where it did and why we didn’t have someone like Moses on the earth.
“Since I was 23 when I joined the Church I thought I’d be too old to go on a mission. But I went to a Young Adult conference in Brisbane, and after talking with some friends there I was motivated to go. I worked as a civil servant before my mission, and I had saved enough money to support myself as a missionary.
“My mission has changed my life, too. I used to be shy, almost embarrassed to talk about the Church. That shyness has left me and I feel now that I can talk about it with anyone. When I told my parents I was going to go on a mission they were quite upset—they were concerned about my job. But when I received my call they were really happy for me. So in a period of about six weeks there was a real transition in my family’s attitudes. And now they are actually having a friendship with the missionaries at home. I don’t know if they’re being taught or not, but there was a time when they wouldn’t even let missionaries in the door.”
Both Elder Brooks and Elder McKim say they’ve had to adapt a little to life in the States. “The biggest adjustment is to cars being driven on the wrong side of the road!” Elder McKim said. “Several times my companions have saved my neck as I’ve gone to walk out in front of an oncoming car,” Elder Brooks agreed.
They’ve also had a few strange looks from fellow missionaries when they talk about Australian children eating fairy bread (bread and butter with candy sprinkles), or when they reminisce about hot summer Christmases celebrated with a barbecue at the beach.
“One preparation day we had an Australian day for missionaries in our zone. We invited them to an Australian party and tried to make it as authentic as possible, with food like fish and chips served on newspaper. It was especially fun for me and Elder Brooks, and the other missionaries seemed to enjoy themselves,” Elder McKim said.
In the early days of Church history, the gospel restored in New York and eventually headquartered in Utah sent missionaries from America to other lands around the globe. As the Church continues its worldwide growth, young men like Elder Brooks and Elder McKim will increasingly represent a new generation of missionaries, those who leave their homes to help share the gospel in a foreign land—America.

Lorenzo Snow wrote of such an experience:

Some two or three weeks after I was baptized . . . I began to reflect upon the fact that I had not obtained a knowledge of the truth of the work . . . , and I began to feel very uneasy. I laid aside my books, left the house, and wandered around through the fields under the oppressive influence of a gloomy, disconsolate spirit, while an indescribable cloud of darkness seemed to envelop me. I had been accustomed, at the close of the day, to retire for secret prayer, to a grove a short distance from my lodgings, but at this time I felt no inclination to do so. The spirit of prayer had departed and the heavens seemed like brass over my head. At length, realizing that the usual time had come for secret prayer, I concluded I would not forego my evening service, and, as a matter of formality, knelt as I was in the habit of doing, and in my accustomed retired place, but not feeling as I was wont to feel.

I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray, than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the Spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O, the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge, as it was at that time imparted to my understanding. I then received a perfect knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the holy Priesthood, and the fulness of the Gospel. . . .

. . . That night, as I retired to rest, the same wonderful manifestations were repeated, and continued to be for several successive nights. The sweet remembrance of those glorious experiences, from that time to the present, bring them fresh before me, imparting an inspiring influence which pervades my whole being, and I trust will to the close of my earthly existence. [In Eliza R. Snow, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow (Salt Lake City: Deseret News Company, 1884; reprint, 1975), 7–9; emphasis in original]