Gospel Story Finder

One who listened and who followed was Elder Randall Ellsworth. While serving in Guatemala as a missionary, Randall Ellsworth survived a devastating earthquake, which hurled a beam down on his back, paralyzing his legs and severely damaging his kidneys. He was the only American injured in the quake, which claimed the lives of some eighteen thousand persons.
After receiving emergency medical treatment, he was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While Randall was confined there, a television newscaster conducted with him an interview that I witnessed through the miracle of television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?”
The answer: “Not yet, but I will.”
“Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?”
Came the reply, “Others think not, but I will.”
With microphone in hand, the reporter continued, “I understand you have received a special letter containing a get-well message from none other than the President of the United States.”
“Yes,” replied Randall, “I am very grateful to the President for his thoughtfulness; but I received another letter, not from the president of my country, but from the president of my church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—President Spencer W. Kimball. This I cherish. With him praying for me, and the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will return to Guatemala. The Lord wanted me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”
I turned to my wife and commented, “He surely must not know the extent of his injuries. Our official medical reports would not permit us to expect such a return to Guatemala.”
How grateful am I that the day of faith and the age of miracles are not past history but continue with us even now.
The newspapers and the television cameras turned their attention to more immediate news as the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months. The words of Rudyard Kipling describe Randall Ellsworth’s situation:
The tumult and the shouting dies—
The Captains and the Kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
(“Recessional”)
And God did not forget him who possessed a humble and a contrite heart, even Elder Randall Ellsworth. Little by little, the feeling began to return. In his own words, Randall described the recovery: “The thing I did was always to keep busy, always pushing myself. In the hospital I asked to do therapy twice a day instead of just once. I wanted to walk again on my own.” When the Missionary Department evaluated the medical progress Randall Ellsworth had made, word was sent to him that his return to Guatemala was authorized. Said he, “At first I was so happy I didn’t know what to do. Then I went into my bedroom and I started to cry. Then I dropped to my knees and thanked my Heavenly Father.”
Randall Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he was called and back to the people whom he loved. Behind he left a trail of skeptics, a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the reward of determination. Ahead lay thousands of honest, God-fearing, and earnestly seeking sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father. A modern-day Paul, who had overcome his “thorn in the flesh,” had returned to teach them the truth, to lead them to life eternal. From Elder Ellsworth, they heard God’s word. They learned His truth. They accepted His ordinances.

Joseph’s arms felt as heavy as the scythe he swung through the ripened grain. But within, the awful weight of waiting and wondering if the Lord were displeased with him had lifted. Joseph’s prayers had been answered! At the memory of the angel Moroni’s visit the night before, Joseph’s whole being was filled with joy. The dazzling splendor surrounding Moroni had been brighter than the first blinding rays of the sun gilding Joseph’s father and brothers mowing alongside him in the fields.
As they reached the end of a clean-cut fencerow, Joseph lagged behind. Light-headed from a night without sleep, he struggled against an overwhelming weariness. But nothing, he realized, can dim the glory of the message Moroni brought me. Only—and the thick fan of his eyelashes swept his cheeks—only I am so … tired. For just a moment he rested against his scythe.
Always the watchful big brother, Alvin was quick to observe Joseph’s unusual behavior. He glanced at him anxiously, but without interrupting his own measured stroke. Then his words spurred Joseph on. “If we slacken our hands, Joseph, we won’t finish our work.”
Determined as always to carry his load, Joseph pushed forward through his exhaustion. He cut a few more swaths of grain. Then an overpowering dizziness brought him to a swaying halt.
Father Smith stopped abruptly, letting the sheaf he was binding fall in disarray to the ground. His tone was concerned as he said, “Son, you’d best go back to the house and let your mother doctor you.”
The father watched Joseph make his way slowly toward the wormwood fence and patch of green surrounding their log home. Then he returned to the deft twist and tuck of the binder’s knot.
The sky reflected the sun’s high glare before Joseph retraced his steps and sought out his father. Father Smith finished up the sheaf he was binding, straightened out his lean, long frame, and wiped the sweat from his brow with a homespun sleeve. “Feeling better, Joseph?”
Joseph looked squarely at his father, and when he spoke there was a compelling urgency in his voice. “I have something to tell you, Father. I haven’t been home. I tried to climb over the fence by the apple tree, but I was so weak I fell helpless to the ground. I don’t know how long I lay there, but after a time I heard a voice that pierced my very center, calling, ‘Joseph, Joseph.’” For a moment Joseph seemed unable to continue. Then his voice deepened. “It was an angel surrounded by heavenly light—the same angel Moroni who appeared to me three times last night in my room.” Joseph’s face was luminous, but it was his eyes, blazing blue as the noonday sky, that most reflected the astonishing events he was about to share.
So there in the fields of waving grain, Joseph the son lifted his face to Joseph the father and unfolded all that had happened. The radiant light. The awe-inspiring message. Prophecy fulfilled and yet to come. Gold plates couched in a stone box buried in a nearby hill. Instructions. Warnings. All this thrice impressed and forever emblazoned on his mind and heart. Given yet once more and once more imprinted.
Father Smith listened intently, scarcely breathing. Every word Joseph spoke was carved almost as deeply on the father’s soul as on the son’s. He studied the earnest face of the lad who had once walked bravely on crutches.
Joseph’s gaze swept beyond their log home to the autumn hillside, the newly significant hill of Cumorah. “The angel said to meet him there,” he explained, pointing. “But first I was to come and tell you.”
Joseph had told it all. Now he waited, obedient, on his father, the tall, granite-firm yet gentle man he so loved and respected.
His father’s voice broke a little as he began to speak, but the words were sure and strong. “This is of God, Joseph. You must go and do as the angel commanded.” Father Smith’s fingers tightened on Joseph’s shoulders and a look of love and trust passed between them.
Without a backward glance, Joseph strode southeast toward the hill of Cumorah. He climbed the thickly wooded hill flaunting its autumn finery of scarlet and orange. Near the top he sped like a homing pigeon to the exact place Moroni had shown him in his vision. It seemed as familiar to him as his own dooryard.
With pounding heart, Joseph knelt among the tufted grass, for there lay the large rounded stone. It’s exactly like the one the angel Moroni showed me, he exulted, while his hands pushed the black dirt away from the stone. His eyes searched for a lever. Then he spied a hefty stick with a somewhat flattened end that he inserted under the stone’s edge. Exerting his strength he pried it up, revealing a box made of stones cemented together.
Joseph caught his breath as he saw the glitter of gold plates inside and a strange instrument called the Urim and Thummim and the breastplate. It was just as the angel had said! He was filled with a burning wonder as he looked at the curious markings on the ancient records. He had known they would be there because the angel had told him, but to actually witness them with his own eyes was a stunning and miraculous experience!
As Joseph reached in to lift out the plates, the angel Moroni appeared and reminded him that it was not yet time, nor would it be for four more years. However, he went on to reassure Joseph that in exactly one year he was to meet him here and receive further instructions, and that Joseph was to return each year until the time came to translate the record.
That was not all. As they talked there on the hillside, the heavens were opened to Joseph, and the glory of the Lord shone round about him and rested on him. While he stood gazing, enthralled, the angel said, “Look!” and Joseph beheld a vision of Satan and his followers. He was permitted to see the great contrast between the power of God and the power of Satan, the consequences of both obedience and disobedience to the commandments of God. This was shown him with such clarity and in such a striking manner that it would remain vivid in his memory until the end of his days. Forever after he would be anxious to keep the commandments of God.
Joseph walked away from the hill with a flaming determination to carry out the Lord’s great purposes, to obey implicitly every instruction given by the angel Moroni. And as he looked at the slowly darkening sky he thought, It’s not going to be easy.
After supper that evening Father Smith leaned toward Joseph and speaking gently said, “Can you tell all the family about it, son?”
Joseph looked into the eager, upturned faces and his heart swelled with gratitude. These were his dearest and best friends. They would stand by him with love and loyalty. For them Joseph once more rehearsed all he had told his father in the field that morning, of his finding the golden plates on the Hill Cumorah and of his visit with the angel Moroni.
The deep exultation that moved Joseph called forth an answering joy in each of his loved ones. Tears burned along the edge of Sam’s eyelids and Sophronia saw that many cheeks were wet as she wiped her own. They knew Joseph had spoken the truth without doubt or hesitation or holding back.
Like the rest, Alvin had sat spellbound at the sound of every word from his younger brother’s lips. But sensing that by now Joseph must be totally exhausted, Alvin laid his hand on Joseph’s arm. “Now, brother,” he suggested, “let’s go to bed so we can rise early in the morning and finish our work before sunset.” Alvin nodded in Lucy’s direction. “And if Mother will get our supper early tomorrow, we’ll have a fine long evening while you tell us more of the great things God has revealed to you.”
On the following evening the slanted rays of the setting sun pushed the boys to finish their nightly tasks; while inside Lucy and Sophronia moved skillfully about the big room, setting it to rights after supper.
It was just twilight when the cheery bustle ceased and the entire family—father, mother, and all the children from Alvin down to Baby Lucy—formed a circle around Joseph. It was to be the first of many such evenings.
All were hushed as Joseph began to speak. First he admonished them to keep his experiences within the family circle for the time being. As he went on to recall the astonishing events of the past two days, his eyes glowed with an intense light and his voice rang with sincerity. Even baby Lucy, cuddled on Hyrum’s lap, stared up at her brother Joseph in wide-eyed awe.
So clearly had Moroni shown Joseph what the golden records contained that he was able to describe many exciting and amusing details about the ancient people who had lived in America. The family listened, fascinated, as Joseph told about the strange clothes they wore, how they traveled from place to place, and the animals upon which they rode.
“Did they have horses then?” piped up Catherine. Joseph assured her that they did, and Catherine’s eyes sparkled as Joseph added that these long-ago people owned cows and sheep and even elephants. Joseph then pictured their great cities and the design of their buildings. He knew about their religion and how they worshipped, their forms of government, and how the Nephites and Lamanites fought in fierce battles.
Outside the moon hung high and inside the fire was only a flicker, yet no one wanted to leave the circle. They were all savoring the sweet happiness that warmed them through and through and spilled over to fill every corner of their little home.
Lucy surveyed her brood, gathering them in with one glance. These are my treasures, she mused tenderly, cherishing each one. Then her heart swelled with the thought, God is about to bring to light something to give us a more perfect knowledge of the plan of salvation and redemption of the human family.
And Joseph, her son, had been chosen by the Lord to bring it to pass! (To be continued.)

Fun. The Bakersfield California Stake wanted to come up with an activity so fun that non-LDS and less-active youth wouldn’t be able to stay away. And that’s just what happened when they threw a stake youth “Almost Anything Goes Olympics.”
Each ward made up a team and chose a country to represent. They all met at a park by a local lake and let the fun, and water balloons, fly. Along with traditional activities like tug-of-war and egg tosses, they had events like a mattress race, where six of the strongest ward members transported the smallest perched on a mattress, and the Holey Trash Can Fill, where some team members rushed to fill a punctured trash can with lake water, while their teammates tried to plug the holes with fingers, toes, knees, and even heads.
The best-loved event was the canoe race. A barbecue and dance finished off the day.
Each ward was a winner in one category or another and received a plaque. But the youth felt that the real winners were the 15 less-active and 10 non-LDS young people who shared in the fun. Many have returned to other Church activities.

I recall an experience from pilot training in World War II. Air cadets were posted to colleges for ground training. We were assigned to Washington State University at Pullman. Eight of us who had never met were assigned to the same room. The first evening we introduced ourselves.
The first to speak was from a wealthy family in the East. He described the private schools he had attended. He said that each summer their family had “gone on the Continent.” I had no way of knowing that meant they had traveled to Europe.
The father of the next had been governor of Ohio and at that time was in the president’s cabinet.
And so it went. I was younger than most, and it was my first time away from home. Each had attended college, I had not. In fact, there was nothing to distinguish me at all.
When finally I got the courage to speak, I said, “I come from a little town in Utah that you have never heard of. I come from a large family, eleven children. My father is a mechanic and runs a little garage.”
I said that my great-grandfather had joined the Church and come west with the pioneers.
To my surprise and relief, I was accepted. My faith and my obscurity were not a penalty.
From then until now I have never felt uncomfortable among people of wealth or achievement, of high station or of low. Nor have I been ashamed of my heritage or of the Church, or felt the need to apologize for any of its doctrines, even those I could not defend to the satisfaction of everyone who might ask.

I was a typical high school football player with a typical football vocabulary. I was one of the captains of the football team at El Segundo High School and didn’t have the best reputation. Glenda’s locker was a couple of lockers from mine, and whenever she walked by I suddenly improved my language. I worried that if I offended her she would avoid me.
As the semester progressed so did our mutual respect and friendship. She was unique, but I did not understand why. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that she never attended the parties I went to.
So, when she invited me to a Christmas party at her home, I didn’t know what to expect. Although I enjoyed my friends, I had seriously considered changing my bad habits. I was searching for something different. I was interested to see what kind of a party she would throw. I put on my best clothes, poured on the cologne, and off I went.
Was I surprised! I was shocked to see everyone having fun, dancing, playing games, and drinking—soft drinks! After a while, I couldn’t believe that I was having fun too. I was surprised to meet Glenda’s parents at the party, since all the parties I ever attended occurred while the parents were away. Most everyone was a bit surprised to see me. Still, they were all smiles and treated me with kindness.
As the evening ended I offered to provide rides home to anyone who needed one. Fortunately, one particular girl I had my eye on during most of the party needed a ride. I drove all around town dropping people off until we were alone. I drove her home very slowly.
I asked her what she was doing for Christmas, and she told me her family was leaving for Argentina the next day. What a small world, I thought. I briefly explained to her that my family had immigrated from Argentina 11 years ago. She said her father had served a mission there, and they were going to visit some of her father’s old friends. Soon we were at her home, and I didn’t get a chance to ask her what a mission was, but the seeds of curiosity were sown and so was my interest in her.

I grew up in an environment where many men smoked, drank, and lived unchaste lives. I saw this kind of example in my own family and in most of the men in the vicinity, so I came to believe it was normal. At the early age of 20, I got married. Four years later, after we had three children, we divorced. But I later met a wonderful woman, who not only accepted me with three children but gave us five more. We have been married for more than 30 years.

Many years ago I took our only son on his first camping, fishing trip. He was just a boy. The canyon was steep, and the descent was difficult. But the fishing was good. Every time I hooked a fish I would give the pole to the eager boy, and with shouts of joy he would reel in a beautiful trout. In the shadows and coolness of the late afternoon, we began our climb back up to the rim high above us. He scrambled rapidly up the mountain ahead of me with a challenging, “Come on, Dad. I’ll bet I can beat you to the top.” The challenge was heard but wisely ignored. His small frame seemed literally to fly over, under, and around every obstacle, and when every step that I took seemed ridiculously like my last, he had reached the top and stood cheering me on. After supper we knelt in prayer. His small voice rose sweetly heavenward in benediction to our day. Then we climbed into our large double sleeping bag, and after a bit of pushing and pulling I felt his little body snuggle and settle tightly against mine for warmth and security against the night. As I looked at my son beside me, suddenly I felt a surge of love pass through my body with such force that it pushed tears to my eyes. And, at that precise moment, he put his little arms around me and said, “Dad.”
“Yes, son.”
“Are you awake?”
“Yes, my son, I am awake.”
“Dad, I love you a million, trillion times!”
And immediately he was asleep. But I was awake far into the night, expressing my great thanks for such wonderful blessings clothed with a little boy’s body.

Now my son is a man with a son of his own. Once in a while the three of us go fishing. I look at my little red-headed grandson beside his father, and I see in my mind’s eye the image of that wonderful moment long ago. The question so innocently asked, “Dad, are you awake?” still rings in my heart.

At the age of 15, after the death of my father, one of my brothers, Toribio Castaños, took me to live in his house and took me in like a son. At that time, he had already been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for several years. He made sure I went to church and received lessons of salvation through the missionaries. This has been the greatest and most significant service I have received in this life. I love my brother Toribio and I will be eternally grateful to him for putting all his effort into helping me to embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ and thus changing the course of my life.

Joseph William Billy Johnson is one of those people. He has been a member of the Church from its beginnings in Ghana.
In 1964 an associate gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon and some Church tracts that had been sent from Europe. When he read a tract containing the testimony of Joseph Smith, he recalls, “I was inspired,” and when he read the Book of Mormon, “I knew it was true.” He began to preach the gospel truths he had learned. He wrote to Church headquarters, and President David O. McKay encouraged him to continue studying the scriptures and to be patient and faithful until missionaries could be sent to Africa.
Billy Johnson persevered for 14 years despite persecution. He built congregations to whom he taught the gospel doctrine he found in Church books. As nearly as he knew how, he tried to direct his congregations according to Church practices, yet he understood that he did not have authority to perform its ordinances.
Often he felt directed by the Spirit; he was sustained at times by visions and dreams. His son was named after Brigham Young because of a dream in which that former President of the Church offered encouragement. Brother Johnson learned about salvation for the dead after deceased relatives appeared to him in dreams and asked him to be sure they would have the opportunity to receive baptism by proxy.
“I drew inspiration from the pioneers,” he says. Reading of their struggles to build a haven in the western United States where they could worship in peace, he longed for the day when it might be possible to enjoy this same blessing in Ghana.
When Latter-day Saint missionaries arrived in 1978, after the revelation extending the priesthood to all worthy male members, hundreds of Ghanaians he had prepared were ready to be taught and baptized.
Despite the hardships he endured, Brother Johnson, now patriarch of the Cape Coast Ghana Stake, rejoices at the opportunity he had during all those years to help prepare others for the gospel. “Whenever I see in conferences the number of people who have been baptized into the Church, I start weeping for joy at the great work the Lord has done.”

1. Mildred and Marvin’s marriage was basically very sound. Each day Mildred rode to work with a good friend, Henry. They enjoyed talking; Mildred especially liked the chance to exchange ideas because Marvin, a very quiet man, did not readily share his thoughts and feelings with his family. Mildred and Henry gradually started taking longer routes home, and they even began stopping by the roadside to talk. There was no physical involvement between them, but when Marvin learned of the situation, he suspected Mildred of infidelity. It took months for them to remedy the damage. This heartache could have been avoided if they had found a third person to ride to and from work with them or if they had changed their transportation arrangement.

Any uneasiness about a situation should be taken seriously, even though “nothing’s happening.” The subtle shift from marital fidelity to infidelity is like the gradual shading from daylight to darkness. The growing pleasure Mildred and Henry took in each other’s company was destructive to both marriages.

Several years ago, I was in the market for a van. My wife and I had nine children, and we needed a larger vehicle. One day, I saw a big 12-passenger van for sale. I contacted the owner, who let me take it for a test drive. I was worried about the height of the van, so I decided to drive it home to see if it would fit in our garage.
I eyeballed the van and the garage door, and it looked like the van was too tall. I got a tape measure and measured the van, then the garage door. Sure enough, the van was too tall. But I wanted the van so badly; I wanted it to fit! So I called my wife out and said, “Come out and watch this. I’m going to try to pull the van into the garage and see if I can make it.” Luckily, before I actually tried to pull the van in, I thought, Wait a minute, I know I can’t make it! I realized that I had two reliable standards already. When I looked at the van, I could see it was too tall. And when I measured the door and the van, I could see the van wouldn’t fit. Yet I was almost willing to risk damage to the van and the garage by trying to drive it in. My personal desires almost kept me from trusting the standards.

Ouch! Have you ever been attacked by a jumping cactus? Cholla cactus segments “jump” off to stick to clothes, skin, or whatever else they can hook their spines into.
The Latter-day Saint youth of New Mexico know how difficult it is to detach themselves from a prickly cactus. They got some extra practice, though, as they cleaned the site where the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple will be built. Armed with shovels, rakes, and gloves, youth from four stakes assembled on a hot Saturday morning to rid the property of sagebrush, garbage, and cholla, so the weeds could be mowed and the ground made safe to walk on for those attending the temple’s groundbreaking ceremony.
“It was hard work, but it will be totally worth it for the temple to come,” says Robyn Sampson, age 15.
Before the city of Albuquerque approved the plans for the temple, the youth fasted and prayed for a solution to the problems the temple’s project manager faced when he presented the plans to city officials. Now they say they are fasting and praying for the temple builders. But the prayers and the cleanup are only part of the work the young people of Albuquerque are doing to prepare for the temple. They are also working to make certain their own lives are clean.
Despite the burrs on their socks and an occasional scare from a snake or lizard, the Albuquerque youth succeeded in clearing the future temple site of every spiny cactus and broken bottle they could find. It might seem strange, but the youth actually enjoyed pulling cactuses and loading trucks with sagebrush.
“We’re so happy we will have a temple here. We thought it would never happen,” says Rosalie Campbell, age 12.
Amber Chee, age 17, looks forward to doing baptisms for the dead and someday getting married in the Albuquerque temple. “It was really fun coming here. I felt the Spirit,” she says.
Both Rosalie and Amber have done baptisms for the dead before, but opportunities for temple trips come only once a year for the Albuquerque youth, who have had to travel at least eight hours to get to a temple.
“Temples were always a faraway thing,” says Neil Peterson. As 16-year-old Neil wipes his brow, he says he enjoys helping out with something so important, even if it is hard work.
Besides concentrating on the cactus plants, Michelle Williams is thinking about what it will mean to have a temple in her area and about why she is cleaning up the temple site. “It’s very symbolic,” she says. “You have to be clean yourself to go to the temple.”
Logan King is waiting for his call as a full-time missionary. He won’t be able to go to the Albuquerque temple before his mission, but he realizes the importance of being worthy to attend the temple. “We need to clean all the cactuses out of our lives before we can go to the temple,” he says.
Researching family history is another way the Albuquerque youth are preparing for the temple. Many of them have become excited about doing family history, knowing they will soon have a temple in their area. Albuquerque’s family history center missionaries, Sister Wilcox and Sister Hatfield, say the temple will strengthen the youth. Among the large number of young people in the area, they have seen a “big push for genealogy.”
Sarah Sego, age 17, loves doing baptisms for the dead and can’t wait for the temple to be built so she can do baptisms more often. “I know it’s the right thing to do, because all those people are waiting,” she says.
Sarah is eager to tell others why she loves going to the temple. She talks to her friends about the temple and even tactfully shared her testimony of temple work with her high school class.
Sarah is not alone in her missionary efforts. Many Church members are enjoying the opportunity to explain the gospel to others because of the temple.
“I think the temple will make people notice us more,” says Lisa Willis, age 14. She’s also been telling her friends about the temple. “The best part of building a temple is having people ask about it,” she says.
Albuquerque’s full-time missionaries were also working hard at the cleanup. They say members in the area feel that the temple will bring many blessings to all the people of Albuquerque.
“While tracting, we stopped by a house and a woman opened the door and said, ‘Hey, I heard you are building one of those temples.’ That allowed us to get in the door and talk to her about the Church,” says Elder Moyer from California. Many missionaries have similar stories.
The temple will be built in a valley where it can be seen from far away. In fact, it’s the same valley the Mormon Battalion came through on its famous march from the Missouri River to California.
At the groundbreaking ceremony, many young people who had been at the cleanup also sang in the youth chorus. The strains of “High on the Mountain Top” (Hymns, number 5) rang out over the crowd of thousands that had gathered to see the temple ground dedicated.
“We all joined together to celebrate our temple,” says Tyler Lindsey, age 16. “I knew that it was right and the ground was holy. I don’t know how we sounded, but the Spirit was there.”
The Spirit is there. The spirit of service, of missionary work, and of love can be felt strongly in Albuquerque. Whether pulling cactuses or doing baptisms for the dead, the youth of Albuquerque are carrying out the Lord’s work with His Spirit to help them. The youth don’t know yet all the ways the temple will change their lives, but they are grateful to have been able to take a small part in the temple-building project. They are looking forward to the temple’s dedication in the year 2000 and to even greater blessings and opportunities to come.

This is a story of a young girl, living in New York, who before age three lost her father when his boat sank on a large lake. She, her mother, older brother, and younger sister moved to a new city in another state to live with her aunt and uncle. Sometime after the family arrived, missionaries and members of a newly organized religion came to their town with the glorious news of the Restoration of the gospel. They told a remarkable story of an angel delivering an ancient record to a young man named Joseph Smith, a record he had translated by the power of God. Two of the visitors, Oliver Cowdery and John Whitmer, had actually seen the engraved metal pages of the ancient record with their own eyes, and Whitmer witnessed he had held the golden plates in his own hands. This record had been recently published, and Brother Whitmer brought the book with him. The name of the book, of course, was the Book of Mormon.
When 12-year-old Mary heard the missionaries speak about the book, she had a special feeling in her heart. Even though the Book of Mormon was thick with many pages, Mary yearned to read it. When Brother Whitmer departed, he gave one precious copy of the book to Brother Isaac Morley, who was a friend of Mary’s uncle and a local leader in the new church.
Mary later recorded: “I went to [Brother Morley’s] house … and asked to see the Book; [he] put it in my hand, [and] as I looked at it, I felt such a desire to read it, that I could not refrain from asking him to let me take it home and read it. … He said … he had hardly had time to read a chapter in it himself, and but few of the brethren had even seen it, but I plead so earnestly for it, he finally said, ‘child, if you will bring this book home before breakfast tomorrow morning, you may take it.’”
Mary ran home and was so captured by the book that she stayed up nearly all night reading it. The next morning, when she returned the book, Brother Morley said, “I guess you did not read much in it” and “I don’t believe you can tell me one word of it.” Mary stood up straight and repeated from memory the first verse of the Book of Mormon. She then told him the story of the prophet Nephi. Mary later wrote, “He gazed at me in surprise, and said, ‘child, take this book home and finish it, I can wait.’”
A short time later, Mary finished reading the book and was the first person in her town to read the entire book. She knew it was true and that it came from Heavenly Father. As she looked to the book, she looked to the Lord.
One month later a special visitor came to her house. Here is what Mary wrote about her memorable encounter that day: “When [Joseph Smith] saw me he looked at me so earnestly. … After a moment or two he … gave me a great blessing … and made me a present of the book, and said he would give Brother Morley another [copy]. … We all felt that he was a man of God, for he spoke with power, and as one having authority.”
This young girl, Mary Elizabeth Rollins, saw many other miracles in her life and always kept her testimony of the Book of Mormon.1 This story has special meaning to me because she is my fourth-great-aunt. Through Mary’s example, along with other experiences in my life, I have learned that one is never too young to seek and receive a personal testimony of the Book of Mormon.

Jennie shivered and drew the patchwork quilt more tightly around herself. She snuggled close to Susan. Outside the wagon, the wind whipped fiercely across the prairie, snapping the white wagon cover above her. Frightened, she wondered if the big wagon could withstand the raging storm. Papa had said the wagon was to be their home on the long journey to the valley of the Great Salt Lake. But suppose the wind shatters this old wagon, she conjectured, then how would Susan, baby Sarah, Mama and Papa, and I get to the valley?
Although the wagon was cold and uncomfortable it did provide substantial shelter from storms, and it was large enough to carry the things that Jennie’s family would need to start their new home in Salt Lake. Besides all of Papa’s tools, there was a heavy iron blade for a plow. Mama, too, had packed many things. Her beautiful dishes were carefully wrapped in bedding and linens to protect them from breaking as the wagon creaked and jolted across the land. She had also packed a sewing box of scissors, thread, and needles. Along with the grain and vegetable seeds there were tiny packets of flower seeds. Lovely flowers blooming in the yard would help make their new house a home. There had been no room to carry furniture, so Mama’s beloved carved vanity had been sold, as had Papa’s dresser and Susan’s bedstead.
Jennie remembered their pleasant home in Nauvoo. It had been hard to leave it, but cruel men had forced them to go. Papa had promised her that someday they would have a new home in the Rocky Mountains where they would all be safe and happy. Now thunder rumbled loudly across the prairie, and the wind moaned through the night. Jennie buried her head in her pillow and wished that the days of happiness and safety would come soon.
“Sister Quigley! Sister Quigley!” It was Brother Olenslager’s urgent voice. The light of his flickering lantern could be seen through the canvas wagon cover. “Are you awake? You must come. My wife is having her baby!”
“Yes, Brother Olenslager, I’m awake and I’ll come at once.”
Jennie heard Mama hastily dressing in the cold darkness of the wagon box. Tonight Papa was gone, for it was his turn to guard the stock. Jennie suddenly realized that she would be alone in the big dark wagon with four-year-old Susan and Baby Sarah.
“Mama?” she whispered.
“Jennie, I must go to help Sister Olenslager. Please watch after the little ones if they wake.”
“Yes, Mama.” Jennie’s throat was dry and she could scarcely speak. How she wanted to cry out, “Don’t go, Mama. I’m frightened!”
“If I’m not back before morning, Jennie, you must get breakfast and prepare to roll at daybreak. The morning bell will signal when it is time to wake up.” Then Mama slipped from the wagon into the sodden night and was on her way to Sister Olenslager.
BOOOOM! A frightening clap of thunder directly overhead split the night, jolting Susan from her slumber. “Mama!” she cried.
“She isn’t here, Susan,” Jennie explained, trying to soothe her frightened sister. “She’s gone to help Sister Olenslager with her baby.”
“I want Mama,” Susan began to cry. “I’m scared.”
Jennie hugged her younger sister and said softly, “Don’t be afraid. Everything will be all right. I’m here with you. It’s just that this noisy storm woke you up! Go back to sleep now.”
Jennie held the trembling little girl in her arms, concealing the terror that she herself felt. Unbidden tears rolled down her cheeks and onto Susan’s blonde hair. Oh, if only Papa were here! she wished. He always laughs at storms. Jennie believed that Papa’s booming laugh was louder than thunder and his muscled arms stronger than a fierce wind.
“Shhh …” Jennie whispered. “Be still, Susan.” But the little one, shivering beneath the patchwork quilt, was not easily quieted. Soon her sobs woke Baby Sarah, who began to fuss and whimper.
All the while the storm grew wilder, and the rain beat unceasingly against the canvas. Lightening crackled, brilliant and white, and thunder boomed and echoed across the sky. A cold knot of terror tightened in Jennie’s stomach. She could no longer bring herself to speak to her sisters or to comfort them. Mama had told her to tend the little ones, yet she, herself, was frightened. Oh, what can I do? she wondered pleadingly.
Then Jennie remembered something Papa had told her before they had left their home in Nauvoo. He said that there would be times in her life when she might be lonely or frightened and that during those times she might have to do things that she felt she could not do all by herself. But even though he and Mama might not be close-by, she need never be alone. He explained that Heavenly Father was anxious to help her in times of need. He was eager to comfort her when she was fearful, and happy to be near her when she was lonely. All she need do was pray and ask for His help and her prayers would be answered.
Swallowing her fear, Jennie sat up and knelt beside her two sisters. Then she prayed with all her heart for Heavenly Father to bless her and Susan and Sarah and be with them during the storm. When she had finished praying, she crawled back under the covers.
Soon both Susan and Sarah were sleeping soundly next to her. As she lay beside them Jennie felt the cold fear drain from her own heart, to be replaced by a warm calm. And weary from listening to the roaring of thunder, she, too, fell into a peaceful sleep.

When I was a young boy, as I read the Book of Mormon, I often wondered why Laman and Lemuel did not believe the truths that were given to them, even when an angel of the Lord appeared and spoke to them directly. Why couldn’t Laman and Lemuel be more humble and obedient to the teachings of their father, Lehi, and their younger brother Nephi?
I found one of the answers to this question in 1 Nephi, which states that Nephi was “grieved because of the hardness of their hearts.” Nephi asked his older brothers, “How is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds?”
What does it mean to have a hardness of heart?
The Korean translation of “hardness” in the Book of Mormon is ?? (Wan-Aak: ??). This phrase uses the Chinese character “Wan” (?), meaning “stubborn,” and “Aak” (?), meaning “wicked.” When we harden our hearts, we are blinded, and good things cannot come into our hearts or our minds. We become stubborn and begin to place more focus on worldly desires, closing our hearts to the things of God. We choose to focus solely on our own thoughts while not accepting the opinions and guidance of others. We choose to not open our hearts to the things of God but instead to the influence of the things of the world and the adversary. When our hearts are hardened, we resist the influence of the Holy Ghost. We are “slow to remember the Lord,” and over time we become “past feeling” His words.
Alma taught the people in Ammonihah that some “would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts.” He also taught that “they that will harden their hearts, to them is given the lesser portion of the word until they know nothing concerning his mysteries.” Eventually, the Spirit withdraws, and the Lord “will take away [His] word” from those who have hardened their hearts just like Laman and Lemuel. Because Laman and Lemuel continually hardened their hearts, resisted the feelings of the Holy Ghost, and chose not to accept the words and teachings of their father and Nephi, they ultimately rejected eternal truths from God.
In contrast to Laman and Lemuel, Nephi continually humbled himself, seeking guidance from the Spirit of the Lord. In return, the Lord softened Nephi’s heart. Nephi shares that he “did cry unto the Lord; and behold he did visit me, and did soften my heart that I did believe all the words which had been spoken by my father.” The Lord helped Nephi to accept, understand, and believe all the mysteries of God and His words. Nephi was able to have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost.
What can we do to not harden our hearts?
First, we can practice daily repentance.
Our Savior taught, “Whoso repenteth and cometh unto me as a little child, him will I receive.” Our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, taught:
“Repenting is the key to progress. Pure faith keeps us moving forward on the covenant path.
“Please do not fear or delay repenting. Satan delights in your misery. … Start today to experience the joy of putting off the natural man. The Savior loves us always but especially when we repent.”
As we experience the joy of softening our hearts and coming to the Lord, we become “as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”
Second, we can practice humility.
Daily repentance will bring humility to our hearts. We want to become humble before the Lord, like a little child who obeys their father. We will then always have the Holy Spirit with us, and our hearts will soften.
My wife, Sue, and I have known a wonderful couple for the last four years. When we initially met them, the husband was a new member of the Church, and his wife was meeting with the missionaries to study the gospel. Many missionaries met with her to help her come unto Christ. We felt that she had a vibrant testimony of the gospel and knew that the Church was true. She felt the Spirit often during our visits and actively participated in all the meetings. She loved to interact with the wonderful members of the ward. However, she found it difficult to commit herself to enter the waters of baptism. One day she was reading Moroni 7:43–44, which reads:
“And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart.
“If so, [your] faith and hope is vain, for none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart.”
After reading these verses, she realized what she needed to do. She thought that she had understood the meaning of being meek and humble. However, her understanding was not sufficient enough to have faith and hope to obey the commandments of God. She had to let go of her stubbornness and her own wisdom. She started to humble herself through sincere repentance. She began to understand humility in the perspective of God’s eyes. She relied on Heavenly Father and prayed to soften her own heart. Through these prayers, she felt the Spirit witness to her that Heavenly Father wanted her to be baptized.
Both husband and wife shared that the more they became humble, the more they could understand the words of God, and their hearts were softened to follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Third, we can trust and rely on our Savior.
Nephi was a great example of allowing his heart to be softened by trusting in the Lord. He taught, “I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh.” Similarly, in a revelation given to the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Lord said, “Put your trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good—yea, to do justly, to walk humbly.” When we put our trust in the Lord and rely on Him, He will soften our hearts, and we will be supported in our trials, troubles, and afflictions.
If we sincerely repent, humble ourselves, and trust and rely on the Lord, our hearts will be softened. He will then pour out His Spirit and show us the mysteries of heaven. We will believe all the words that He has taught, and our understanding will deepen.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, was the ultimate example of meekness. In 2 Nephi 31:7, we read, “But notwithstanding he being holy, he showeth unto the children of men that, according to the flesh he humbleth himself before the Father, and witnesseth unto the Father that he would be obedient unto him in keeping his commandments.” Even though He was holy and perfect, He humbled Himself before the Father and was obedient to Him by being baptized.
At the end of His mortal life, Jesus Christ submitted His own will to His Father by partaking of the bitter cup. This suffering caused Him “to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit.” The Savior asked that He “might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink.” “Nevertheless,” He said, “glory be to the Father, and [He] partook and finished [His] preparations unto the children of men.”
Brothers and sisters, we’ve been given moral agency. We can choose to harden our hearts, or we can choose to soften our hearts. In our daily lives, we can choose to do the things that invite the Lord’s Spirit to come into and dwell in our hearts. I know that in these choices, there is peace and joy.
Let us follow the example of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who followed the will of the Father. As we do so, the Lord has promised us, “For, behold, I will gather them as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if they will not harden their hearts.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

You and your mom are on a scavenger hunt as part of a Primary quarterly activity to help you appreciate all the natural goodness Heavenly Father has given us. You have a list of things to check off when you find them. In addition, letters of the alphabet have been hidden in some of the places.
You are the first team. Go to Start. Follow the directions along the way, and you will find the letters. As you find each one, write it in order on the blanks at the bottom of your list. The letters will spell a word that tells what you’ll be enjoying after the hunt.
No letter here, but fill your canteen at the water fountain, check off “Water” on your list, and go to the big oak tree.
Write down the letter in the hole, check off “Oak Tree,” and hurry over to the pond.
That isn’t a letter—it’s a frog on a lily pad. Check off “Lily Pads” and look for the large boulder.
That isn’t a letter, either—it’s a snake. Rest here a bit while you check off “Boulder,” then find a pile of leaves.
Jump in, then write the letter on the brown leaf, check off “Leaves,” and head for another big pile—acorns this time.
No letter here. The squirrel wishes you’d go away so he can finish storing these nuts, so check off “Acorns” and head for the hollow log.
Another letter for your checklist. While you write it and check off “Hollow Log,” your cap blows off. Luckily, you see it at the apple tree, where you should go next.
On a low branch, there’s an abandoned nest with a green apple in it but no letter. Check off “Nest” and try the next place, over by those moss-covered stones.
Aha! Another letter! Write it and check off “Mossy Stones.” Do you see the wild strawberries? The last letter may be there. …
Nope—no letter, but the berries taste wonderful. You eat just a few so that the others can have some too. Now check off “Strawberries,” then look under the big pine tree.
Hurray—the last letter! Write it down, don’t forget to check off “Pine Tree,” then hurry over to join the leaders and wait for the other children.
Scavenger Hunt List
Water
Oak Tree
Lily Pads
Boulder
Leaves
Acorns
Hollow Log
Nest
Mossy Stones
Strawberries
Pine Trees
___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Answer:

Sam Gray, a fifteen-year-old Aaronic Priesthood holder and Boy Scout took the lead in setting up the JustServe programme in the Dublin Ireland Stake. Sam was looking for a project that would help him achieve his Eagle pin, the highest rank a Scout can earn. The project needed to benefit the community or country in which he lives.
While looking for a potential project, Sam and his dad spoke with Mark A. Coffey, stake president, who asked Sam if he would consider taking the lead in setting up JustServe for the stake. Sam said that it sounded amazing as it matched all the requirements of his project, and it could grow over time. Sam prepared a project proposal, a project workbook and a project report before he spoke to his Scout leader and President Coffey to get final approval.
Sam met with Michael Holton, a counsellor in the stake presidency and they agreed to hold the first meeting of the stake’s JustServe committee. It consisted of President Holton, the stake Relief Society president, a public communications representative, a few members of the stake and Sam, who hosted the meeting. It was a slow start, but momentum increased and continued to do so under Sam’s guidance and leadership.
Initially, the committee got eight organisations signed up with opportunities for volunteers. It also set up a JustServe Facebook page for the stake. There are currently over 50 opportunities posted on JustServe.org. Sam will soon be leaving, so his leadership role is now being taken on by another member of the stake.
Sam said he would like to thank President Holton, and the JustServe committee, for all the help they have given him; they did much that he couldn’t do himself. He continued, “I would like to especially thank my Mum and Dad. I used to think it was weird that the Boy Scouts award parents and give them an Eagle pin as well, but now I realize why, it’s because of all the work and time they put into helping their Scout get to that point. I have really enjoyed working on this project and helping not only our stake but also the entire country. I’ve been contacted by several members of the Limerick District and the Belfast Stake who are eager to learn more about JustServe and how to get it up and running. I would encourage everyone to sign up and get serving. I can’t wait to see how JustServe develops and grows over the next period.”

As I entered the home for old people, my thoughts were not really on grandma, even though she was dying. I love her, and it made me sad to realize she would soon be leaving, but she had been waiting so long to be with grandpa again that it seemed like her dying would be a blessing, a long-awaited reward for her faithfulness. My own mind longed for such assurance of what the future would hold. I was wrestling with an important decision and was filled with confusion; I found myself pleading with the Lord for peace of mind. That’s why I was so surprised when such a feeling of calmness came over me when I walked into grandma’s room. She was weeping. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and told me softly that as she looked back at her life, she was overcome with the blessings the Lord had given her. Her quiet reflection and gratitude totally removed me from my earthly worries. I hardly realized I was standing there, listening to her in the darkness. She was radiant, thin and dying, but glowing.
Any unappreciative thought I’d ever had about her was erased from my mind, and I was so humbled that I can’t find words to explain it. Why don’t those times stay with us forever? I put my unwrinkled hand over her wrinkled one and held it. I asked her what she was thinking. She said something I’ve often felt but could never quite express. She shook her head and said, “Oh, dear, if you knew all I think about.” Then she told me I looked different. I told her it was because I had no eye makeup on and she probably couldn’t recognize me. But she hadn’t even looked at me. She’d been looking out the window and then she said, “No, you are different than when you came in. You’re seeing your future laid out in front of you, and you wonder what will happen to you.” Tears came to my eyes. She was right. “Don’t be impatient, my dear. The Lord has many good things in store for you, and he loves you very much. But you are impatient like me. You want to tell the Lord when you’re ready and when you’re not.”
The she smiled. “I have been a trial to my Lord all my life because of my impatience, and now I see my life closing, and I realize he still loves me—he loves me.” When she had finished, tears fell down her cheeks. I wasn’t crying outwardly, but when I saw her tears, mine came, too. At that moment we were sharing something together as children of God, not as an old lady and her granddaughter. That is how I will remember Grandma Windsor, and when my time comes to join her, I hope she will be proud of me.
I walked down the steps of the home for old people with one more testimony that there really is one greater than ourselves, and that he loves me far more than I can even imagine. He has blessed me so much! Knowing that, I can’t be anything less than my best. When I fail, I punish myself. He is a God of abounding love, not hate or resentment. I do so many things wrong, and yet he still loves me. Looking at grandma’s face that day, I could see that love. I could see wisdom, humility, and peace—an overwhelming peace. I wish I could have written on stone plates that would last forever the feeling I had then.

“Eight, nine, ten. Hooray!” I cheered as I counted my last dollar. “Mom, I’ve finally earned enough money to buy the space shuttle.”
“That’s great, Jacob,” Mom said. “You’ve worked hard, and you’ve wanted that model for a long time.”
She was right. For the last month, I’d been mopping floors, watering plants, taking out garbage—and thinking about the space shuttle model. It had cool flag stickers for the wings and booster rockets that snapped off.
“Can we go to the store now?” I asked.
“It’s almost dinnertime,” Mom said. “Then it will be time for family home evening. But we could go tomorrow after school.”
“OK,” I said. One more day wouldn’t hurt.
After dinner, Dad spread out 10 pennies, 10 dimes, and 10 one-dollar bills on the living room floor.
“Tonight we’re going to talk about tithing,” Dad said.
“What’s that?” asked my four-year-old brother, Willy.
“It’s money we give to Heavenly Father,” Dad said. “It’s one-tenth of what we earn.”
“What’s one-tenth?” I asked. I knew it was a fraction. But in second grade we had only learned about halves and thirds.
“There’s a simple way to remember,” Dad said. “It’s a dime from a dollar, a penny from a dime.”
“What happens to our tithing?” Tod asked.
“It helps the Church grow,” Dad said. “Some of it is used to build new church buildings and temples.”
We practiced paying tithing with the dollars, dimes, and pennies on the floor. It was fun to play with all that money.
But then I thought of my own dollars. I had a sinking feeling. Did I owe one of those dollars for tithing?
“Do I have to pay tithing on my space-shuttle dollars?” I asked. But I didn’t really want to hear the answer. I was tired of mopping floors.
“Well,” Dad said, “one of those dollars you earned belongs to Heavenly Father. But no one forces you to pay tithing. It’s something you choose to do.”
For the rest of the night, I thought about doing the right thing—that is, when I wasn’t thinking about the space shuttle. Would it hurt to skip tithing this time? Surely one dollar wouldn’t make much difference to the Church.
The next day I raced home after school. “Let’s go buy the space shuttle, Mom,” I called.
“OK,” she said. “Get your brothers, and we’ll be on our way.”
In the car I wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wanted to pay tithing, but I really, really wanted the space shuttle.
At the store I went straight to the model aisle and grabbed the box. For some reason, though, holding the box didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. And the longer I held it, the worse it felt.
Holding the dollars in my other hand didn’t feel right either. Maybe it was because I knew one of them didn’t belong to me. Last night Dad said one-tenth isn’t very much to give to Heavenly Father when you think of everything He gives to us.
“Mom,” I said quietly, “are there any jobs I can do to earn some more money?”
“There are always lots of jobs,” Mom said.
“Maybe I should buy the space shuttle in a few days. Can we come back?”
“Sure,” Mom said.
On the way home, I held nine dollars in one hand and one in the other. I felt a little disappointed. But I didn’t wonder if I was doing the right thing. I knew I was.

I try to always be available to help others in my ward, but on occasion I have been the one in need of service. Once when I needed to paint a room in my home before moving, I was in the middle of final exams and also had to leave town for a wedding. When I mentioned these circumstances to a sister in my ward, she told me she would get some other sisters together to paint the room. Their service saved me lots of time and money.