Gospel Story Finder

My family and I had a simple but impressive experience with one of God’s creations. I gave my wife, Barbara, a dozen roses as a valentine. They were a delicate shade of peach in color and had a rich scent. Barbara put them in a vase and placed them on the table in our family room. As the days passed, the family watched the blossoms unfold from buds to full flower.
As I watched this miracle, I became curious about roses. I was amazed to learn from a botanist friend that there are thousands of different varieties of roses. Inside each rose is a giant storehouse of genetic coding that develops a seed or a slip into roots, stems, thorns, leaves, colors, and blooms.
Each rose is a compact chemical-processing factory. Using sunlight, the green leaves take carbon dioxide from the air and replace it with oxygen, which we breathe. When other chemicals within the plant react with sunlight, it produces starch that becomes food. As you know, this process is called photosynthesis, and without it the earth’s atmosphere would soon be devoid of oxygen, and most living things would disappear from the earth.
This experience led me to consider the myriad forms of plant and animal life that thrive in astounding balance upon the earth. My esteem for our little roses took on an element of wonder and reverence. I pondered the power of the Creative Genius who lovingly provided such marvels for His children. I thought then how important it is for every human soul to see and appreciate the glory and grandeur of God in everything about us. Into my mind came the words and message of a beautiful hymn:
When thru the woods and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees,
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze,
Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee,
How great thou art! How great thou art!
(“How Great Thou Art,” Hymns, no. 86)
I felt a deep reverence for both the creation and the Creator.

Danny has lots of friends. One of them is Brother Green. Brother Green is old, even older than Danny’s grandfather. His hands and face are wrinkled. He has snow-white hair and glasses that keep sliding down his nose.
One day Danny’s friend Jeff called him on the phone. “Can you come over to play ball?” Jeff asked.
“Not now,” said Danny. “I’m going to go see Brother Green. He’s my friend too.”
“Does Brother Green play ball?” asked Jeff.
“No,” said Danny.
“Does he like to climb trees?” asked Jeff.
“No,” said Danny. “He’s too old to climb trees.”
“Well,” Jeff asked, “what good is having a friend who doesn’t do things that you like to do?”
Danny thought for a minute. He remembered the time when his dog, Ginger, had been run over by a car. When he had told Brother Green about it, Brother Green hadn’t said much. He’d just listened while Danny talked and talked about the fun that he and Ginger had had. And Danny had felt much better when he went home.
Then Danny remembered the day that his best friend, Robert, had moved away. Brother Green was out trimming his bushes. He’d asked Danny, “How’s everything going?” And when Danny had told Brother Green how much he was going to miss Robert, Brother Green had nodded and said, “It’s hard to lose a friend.” And again Danny had felt a little better when he went home.
Danny remembered telling Brother Green good things, too—like the time when he got his new dog, Pepper. And when his mother was going to have a baby.
Suddenly Danny knew what to tell Jeff: “Brother Green always takes the time to listen to my stories. He makes me feel important.”
Now Jeff and all his friends who play ball, ride bikes, and climb trees with Danny have Brother Green for their friend too.

May I tell a little story? More than half a century ago, I was standing on a little railway station platform in Cardston, Canada. I was leaving for England on a mission. My saintly mother stood there with me and held my hand. This is what she said. “Hugh, my son, do you remember when you were a little boy you often had bad dreams, nightmares, and you called out to me as I was sleeping in the next room: ‘Mother, Mother, are you there?’ Do you remember I always said, ‘Yes, my son, I’m here. Just turn over and go to sleep. Everything is all right.’” She said, “My boy, five thousand miles must now separate us, across a continent and an ocean. You are not going to have bad dreams only at night, but many times, in the daytime, you are going to want to call for help and comfort. Son, when you are beset with difficulties, when you meet temptation, when you are confused and don’t know where to go, call out and say, ‘Father, are you there?’” She said, “My boy, I promise you He will always answer and you need not fear.”
My dear sisters, through the intervening years, countless occasions have arisen where men could not help me much, when I felt alone, where I had a nightmare with my eyes wide open. I have taken the advice of my mother and have said, “Father, are you there?” Now He has not spoken to me audibly; He has not appeared to me personally; but He has always answered me. There has come into my heart a quiet peace which enabled me to know that I could, figuratively, turn over and go to sleep.
Hugh B. BrownThe Abundant Life (Bookcraft 1965) pp. 202–3.

Fourteen-year-old Juliano Garcia of the Guaiba Jardim Ward, Porto Alegre Moinhos de Vento stake, was thrilled with the prize he won. Although he had been a Church member for just under a year, he won a scripture chase in his multistake seminary bowl. As he began to look through the pages of his prize, a booklet entitled The Holy Temple by Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, he became fascinated with the pictures of temple baptismal fonts and celestial rooms. Juliano didn’t know much about the temple, but as he read in the booklet about baptism for the dead, his heart turned to his deceased grandparents. “I thought about my grandparents, how great they were, and I thought that more than anything I wanted to go to the temple for them.” Juliano hasn’t been able to travel to the São Paulo temple, but he is now preparing to go in Porto Alegre.

One morning my wife said to me, “Hans, I dreamed something very strange last night. Two young men told us about a different church, and we joined it. What do you think about that?” she asked hesitantly. We agreed that the dream didn’t seem to have any meaning because we would never want to leave our own church.
The dream had long been forgotten when, nearly a year later, my wife greeted me after work with the news that “two young men were here today to tell me about their church.” I saw a trace of worry in her face. “But we are going to stay with our church,” I responded confidently. “Well,” she said, “they want to come back to talk with you.” I was not happy with the prospect.
A few days later, I opened the door to see two fine-looking young men. They introduced themselves as missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In the conversation that followed, they asked, “Do you believe that the church of Jesus Christ is on the earth today?” My wife and I had already considered this question while studying the Bible. We concluded that if there were a true church, it would have to have all the doctrines Jesus taught. The churches we knew, including our own, were not complete. “If it exists,” I said, “it must have all the things Jesus taught. But it does not exist.”
A few days later, as I was sitting with my wife, she asked, “Hans, can you still remember my dream?”
“What dream?” I wondered.
“The one I had about the two young men who visited us. They told us about their church and we joined it. Remember?”
Memory of the forgotten dream came back. Joyfully we realized that the dream was a revelation of what was to come, and its memory a confirmation of our testimonies. It was a dream that had come true.

One woman, Kelly, was so touched by the opportunity to buy items for teens and children that she told her member friend, “This idea is so unbelievably awesome! Everyone needs to know about these machines!” Kelly posted about the experience on her Facebook page. She became an incredible advocate for the Giving Machine initiative, prompting five families in her neighborhood to visit a Giving Machine kiosk, as well as family members in three different cities to visit their local Giving Machine kiosks.

Radmila was baptized on 22 February 1975 in Zurich, Switzerland. She later moved back to Belgrade, Yugoslovia, where the Church was just being organized. In 1981 she served a mission to Montreal, Canada, the first missionary to be called from Yugoslovia. Now she is finishing a graduate degree in physical therapy at Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. She also helps translate Church materials into Serbo-Croatian, the Yugoslav national language.
As she look back, Radmila says she feels Heavenly Father performed many miracles in her life. Once she questioned the existence of God. Now she knows that God has a strong love for her, and she wants to serve him any way she can.

Answering my phone, I heard the excited voice of one of the local full-time missionaries telling me about a baptism to be held in a few days. Baptisms, of course, are always a reason for excitement among missionaries, but the name of the sister being baptized was unfamiliar to me. Yet the elder insisted that I attend the baptism because a surprise awaited me. He would not tell me more.
On the day of the baptism, I arrived at the church early to find out what the surprise was. But I did not know the young sister—Alice—who was getting baptized, and she gave no indication that she recognized me.
After the sweet, Spirit-filled baptism, Alice held a Book of Mormon as she bore testimony of its truthfulness and expressed gratitude for its teachings, especially its witness of the Savior. In her testimony, she told how the book had come to her. She had been working at a kiosk in a local shopping mall. One day a woman came by and gave the book to her boss. The boss was not interested and put it on a shelf.
A short time later, when the business was leaving the kiosk, the boss told Alice to throw the book away. But Alice was curious, briefly looked at the book, and asked if she could have it.
Alice took the Book of Mormon home, read it within a few weeks, and was convinced of its truth. But she didn’t know what to do. Some months later she found another job, where she worked with a Latter-day Saint. She asked him about the Book of Mormon and the Church, and he and his wife invited her to meet with the missionaries.
Then this sister said she would like to read the testimony written in the front of her Book of Mormon. The testimony was mine. I had placed it there before giving it to Alice’s boss at the kiosk.
The elders broke into delighted smiles. This was the sweetest surprise I had ever experienced in my life! After the baptismal service, my new sister in the gospel rushed to hug me.
I loved witnessing Alice’s baptism and hearing her humble testimony, gained by reading the Book of Mormon and praying as Moroni counsels: “If ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you” (Moroni 10:4).
A deep gratitude still fills me that I had been allowed to play a small part in helping one of God’s children receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Jai attends Robina State High on the Gold Coast, a school of approximately 1,500 students. He is very involved in his school community.
Recently, Jai was appointed to the position of school captain for the 2023 school year.
“There were 10 candidates running for school captain this year,” Jai says.
“The selection process consisted of a popular vote after delivering a speech to the school, a written application detailing our prior leadership experience, school community involvement, and then, finally, an interview with the principal.”
“During my senior school years,” he continues, “I didn’t necessarily aspire to be the school captain. However, I have always been involved in different leadership roles and community service, such as Kokoda Challenge, Lions Club Australia, Relay for Life, and debating. When my final year of high school approached, I thought running for school captain would help me continue my efforts to be involved in our school community.”
Jai is quite the musician, another of his many talents. He’s been playing the piano since the age of nine and is an extremely accomplished pianist.
On Sundays he is very often found at the piano playing for his congregation and at musical events held by the local faith community. Now, he’s being tutored to play the pipe organ at the Mudgeeraba meetinghouse. Jai also plays the saxophone in the Robina State High School Concert and Jazz Band.
Asked if he thought his experiences as a member of the Church helped him become school captain, Jai replied, “Definitely! Church has been instrumental in helping develop the skills that are required to be an effective leader.”
He added, “Giving talks in Primary, and now speaking regularly in sacrament meetings, has helped build my confidence in public speaking and in writing talks. The many social events at Church, such as dances, conventions, and youth activities, have helped me be able to relate to my peers.”
One of the most important things Jai has learned at Church is the importance of integrity. “I have witnessed this trait in my Church leaders and want to also show that same integrity as a school captain.”
What does Jai have planned? His goal is to become a high school teacher in maths and biology. He also plans to serve a mission.
“The Church principle of setting goals has been part of my life since I was little,” says Jai. “Through family home evening lessons, Primary and Young Men lessons, and now the Children and Youth Program, I have developed a strong testimony of the importance of setting goals. One of my current goals is to serve a mission. Many of my friends have started receiving their mission calls, and watching and helping them prepare has strengthened my desire to fulfil this goal.”

Consider the story of the man who was returning home from a long trip abroad and found himself in an airport waiting for his connecting flight home. There was a delay, so he went and purchased a newspaper and some milk and cookies and sat down at a table to wait for his next flight. As he was reading his newspaper, he noticed some rustling at his table. From behind his paper, he noticed a neatly dressed young woman helping herself to his cookies.

He did not want to make a scene, so he leaned across and took a cookie himself. He went back to reading his paper thinking this was now settled. A minute passed when he heard more rustling. He was flabbergasted to see that she was eating another one of his cookies. So he stared her down and then took another cookie. The young lady didn't seem offended. She then took another one herself. He then grabbed another cookie and ate it and she did the same.

They traded off eating cookies until it came down to the last cookie. It shocked him to see that she took the last cookie and then right in front of him, she broke the cookie in half, passed half of the cookie to him and then ate the other half, got up and left. He sat in shocked disbelief and was still fuming when he heard over the loudspeaker that his flight was about to board. He took the newspaper and folded it up and shoved it into his bag. It was then that he noticed his bag of cookies. The whole time he had been eating her cookies.

Imagine his embarrassment. Imagine her wondering what this guy's problem was. Do we sometimes make a rash decision or judgment on someone, because we have inadequate information? How do we avoid making mistakes like this? We need to know who we are and where we are going and whose cookies we are eating.

On this campus and at other universities there are foundation and general education courses to provide a broad framework for learning before you specialize in your major. Doing your best in these foundation courses is important. I want to share a personal experience, a mistake in my education, which illustrates the point. In high school math was NOT my favorite subject. I took math classes each of the first three years of high school but decided not to my senior year. When I selected a major at the university I discovered that math was not required and so I took no math as an undergraduate student. When I was accepted and received a fellowship to attend graduate school, I was relieved to learn that "calculus was not a required prerequisite for the program." When I entered the required "Quantitative Methods" class on the first day, I painfully learned that this simple course title of quantitative methods covered differential and integral calculus and high-powered statistics based on the calculus. Not only had it been seven years since my last math class, but I had not taken college algebra and trigonometry which are prerequisites for calculus. I needed a miracle to launch me across this huge knowledge chasm.

The next Sunday at Church I met my miracle, a Ph.D. student in philosophy by the name of Cody Carter. When I learned that Cody held bachelors and masters degrees in mathematics, I quickly and desperately inquired: "Could I hire you to tutor me in math?" His quick answer: "No!" I was on the verge of tears before he said: "But I will be happy to be your tutor without pay." With Cody's expertise in math and patient tutoring, through my own extensive sweat and toil, and positive encouragement from Marj, I was able to complete the class and not have to repeat it. That was indeed a miracle! The moral of this anecdote is NOT to procrastinate as I did, but to dive into the courses you will need--even if they aren't your favorites. As Abraham Lincoln said, "I'll prepare now and take my chances on what comes."

A young father bore witness to me of a great blessing that had come to him and his family. He was awakened one night by a voice that clearly told him to get up and go downstairs. He heeded the warning, and in going into the kitchen he found one wall engulfed in flames. Hurriedly he awakened his family, called the fire department, and with the help of his family fought the fire, keeping it down until the fire department arrived and put it out.
There was no question in his mind that this warning was a manifestation of the protection the Holy Ghost can give to those who keep their lives in harmony with the Spirit.

In the Philippines, on an island called Cebu, just outside a small town, there was a little one-room house called a nepa hut. In this house lived a little girl, Daylinda, and her family. They were being taught the gospel by Elder Jacks and Elder Smith, and the family had decided to be baptized. One day when the missionaries were visiting her family, Elder Jacks turned to her and said, “Daylinda, would you like to pray?”
Daylinda’s eyes grew wide with excitement, and she nodded. Ever since the missionaries had started to teach her family, she had wanted to pray.
Elder Jacks told her to bow her head and fold her arms. “First,” he said, “you need to say ‘Our dear Heavenly Father.’”
Daylinda repeated the words. She looked up. “That’s like saying ‘hello.’”
“Yes. Now what are you thankful for?”
“Lots of things.”
“Tell Heavenly Father about them.”
Daylinda bowed her head again. “I’m thankful for my mother and father and all my little brothers, and for the trees and the sunshine. And for having food today.”
“Good,” said the elder. “Now, what do you want to ask for?”
Daylinda thought, What do I really need? I would like a new doll, but I don’t think I should ask for that. She looked around the room, left, right, up, and down. She saw her bare feet, red with broken blisters, flies buzzing around and biting at them.
“Sapatos,” she said to Elder Jacks. “I need shoes. Then I could help Mother with going to the market, and it wouldn’t be so hard fetching the water at the poso (well) or walking to town for church.” She looked over at her parents. “I know we don’t have money to get shoes for me. Do you think Heavenly Father could give me some?”
Daylinda’s father smiled. “Heavenly Father can give you many things. He will find a way for you to have the good things you ask for.”
Daylinda looked back at the missionaries. She bit her lip and bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, please could you find me some shoes?”
Every day after that, Daylinda prayed morning and night, as the missionaries had taught her, each time asking for shoes. As she walked the rocky path to the poso, she would think how nice it would be to have them. When Mother left for the market to sell baskets, Daylinda thought how she could help her mother if she had shoes to protect her feet on the daily walk. When she awoke in the morning, she checked her bed and outside the door for a new pair of shoes. Mother smiled at her and said, “Heavenly Father doesn’t always work like that, Daylinda. He will do it in His own way, when He knows the time is right. He knows what’s best.”
The days passed, then a week, and finally the day of Daylinda’s baptism came. She walked with her family to the church. Her brothers skipped and played along the side of the road. She thought, I’ve asked Heavenly Father every day for new shoes, but I haven’t gotten any. Maybe it will take longer than I thought, but I know that Heavenly Father will make sure that I have the things I need.
She noticed her brothers playing with something at the side of the road. She went to tell them to hurry up or they would be late. Then she saw what they were playing with—a pair of old shoes someone had thrown out. The toe was torn out of one of the shoes, but they looked like they would fit her. She called excitedly to her father. “Do you think you could fix them?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
Her father turned them over in his hands, nodding. “Yes, they’re still in pretty good shape. I can do it tomorrow, if you like.”
Daylinda ran all the rest of the way to the baptism. She found Elder Jacks and tugged at his hand. He bent down, and she whispered in his ear, “Guess what—I got new shoes!”
“That’s wonderful, Daylinda,” he said.
“It took a long time,” Daylinda said, smiling, “but Heavenly Father answered my prayer. I know He loves me.”

To say I used to hate exercise is an understatement. Just about any form of exercise was uncomfortable. In my middle school gym class, we had to run laps around the field to complete a mile and a half. We also did other exercises to build endurance, strength, and flexibility. All of it was incredibly hard. And all of it took me a long time to do.
There was a reason things were so challenging. I was born with Cystic Fibrosis (CF), which is a genetically inherited terminal illness.
My condition causes mucus to build up in my lungs. My body also has a hard time absorbing nutrients. Because of this, I need lung treatments every morning and night to keep my airways clear. I also take a series of medications throughout the day. I’ve always done this. However, my life seriously improved once I added a couple of extra health habits. And yes, one is daily exercise!
Everything started to change in my life when I found something I genuinely loved to do. While in high school, I discovered dancing. The first time I combined movement with music and put my whole energy into dancing, I knew I’d found something special.
When I first started to dance, I experienced the same discomforts I had while running laps in middle school. This time, though, my new passion for dancing made all the difference. I felt carried away as my feet pounded and leapt to the rhythms and beats of the music. I was able to express myself freely through a variety of movements, feeling uplifted and empowered.
I took entry-level dance classes at school and danced as much as possible. The longer I kept at it, the more I noticed big changes in my health. My lung function grew stronger and steadier. As I continued staying active through doing what I loved, I was able to accomplish much more than I’d ever dreamed.
I’d been taught my whole life that my body is a temple. But I hadn’t really considered how this means both avoiding harmful things (drugs, alcohol, coffee, tea, etc.) but also doing the healthy things my body needs.
President Russell M. Nelson has taught: “With your body being such a vital part of God’s eternal plan, it is little wonder that the Apostle Paul described it as a ‘temple of God’ [1 Corinthians 3:16]. Each time you look in the mirror, see your body as your temple. That truth—refreshed gratefully each day—can positively influence your decisions about how you will care for your body and how you will use it. And those decisions will determine your destiny.”1
As I took care of my body and saw it as a temple, my life changed for the better. Breathing was easier, my energy increased, and I became more alert to my surroundings. My body weight increased to a healthy level, which I could better maintain because my lungs weren’t working so hard.
Before, I had always experienced a health crash at least once a year and needed a two-week hospital stay to restore my health. But after I started dancing and taking better care of myself, that need disappeared. I went six or seven years without having to stay in a hospital.
After graduation I headed off to Brigham Young University. While there, I kept pondering a part of my patriarchal blessing that mentions sharing the gospel. In the past, I’d always thought, “There’s no way I can ever serve a full-time mission. It’s too risky with CF!” In addition to the health risks, I was afraid my daily treatment routine wouldn’t fit with a typical missionary schedule.
Still, the thought wouldn’t go away. Could I actually serve a mission?
As I pondered and prayed, I kept thinking about my favorite scripture. In Mosiah 2:20–21, King Benjamin taught how the Lord had “kept and preserved” His people, “lending [them] breath” each day. These scriptures helped me see how the Lord had “kept and preserved” me.
Though I was still a bit scared, I knew it was God’s will for me to serve. I received a doctor’s clearance, submitted my papers, and was called to serve a mission. I believed the scripture that teaches that God is “supporting [me] from one moment to another” (Mosiah 2:21). As I served my mission in Boston, Massachusetts, that promise was definitely fulfilled.
My mission days were a treasure. One of the greatest blessings was developing a deeper relationship with Heavenly Father and with Jesus Christ. Part of that closeness meant achieving a better understanding of Their will concerning me, including the importance of safeguarding my health.
As a missionary, you’re focused on serving others. Yet I knew that to stay on my mission, I had to remain healthy. I decided to never miss a lung treatment. I would exercise every morning. And I would maintain good eating habits.
As a result, I was better able to be His instrument and serve others. It was a valuable lesson to know I can still serve, even with my illness. I’ve learned that what you can do, despite any limitations you have, is much better to focus on than what you can’t do.
Satan wants us to mistreat our bodies. The adversary and the world try to twist something good—the need to take care of our bodies—into something harmful: the idea that you must look or feel a certain way. This distortion can cause great discouragement when we don’t look that certain way or fit a certain size.
How do we overcome this worldly message and focus instead on better health? How can we stay motivated to prioritize better health, despite all our challenges?
One answer is to live with gratitude.
When we see our body as a gift from our Creator—when we are grateful for all it can do—we feel stronger motivation to care for it and live to our fullest capacity.
There are times with CF where my lungs don’t get the full breaths I need—when my arms become swollen from PICC lines and IVs, when I feel fatigued while fighting off illnesses. In these times, I’ve found that I can either sulk and see my body’s limitations or express gratitude by using well what is still functioning and taking the best care of myself. When we live with patience, faith, and gratitude, we find joy.
Although many say the mission is the best years of their life, I’ve come to find that my life is a mission. My mission president would always say, “A mission is the training wheels for an unselfish, consecrated life. When the mission ends, the training wheels come off, and you ride.”
Because I changed my lifestyle years ago, I’ve been able to reach a clearer understanding of what the Lord has in store for me and to accomplish much more while paying heed to the Spirit’s direction to help me change. I know that “unto whom much is given much is required” (D&C 82:3).
I’ve experienced the change from being sedentary, weak, and ill to becoming stronger and more capable. I now have many dreams and know how to better work alongside the Lord to accomplish His work. I’ve also decided to study corporate wellness and fitness coaching as my profession. After experiencing so many positive changes in my own life, I want to help others reach their potential too.
When it comes to our physical health, I think of how the Lord has sent us here so that we may have joy (see 2 Nephi 2:25). I believe this includes each of us being able to live each day to the fullest, especially within our families and with those closest to us.
I think often about the joy I can experience with my family today and throughout eternity. Some trials come and go, some stay, but our Heavenly Father, our Savior, and His gospel and promises are always constant.

This story took place in England.
Jonah ate his last bite of food and smiled. Dinner was always more fun when the missionaries came over.
“We want to share a message with you about service,” said Sister Kearl. “Why is serving others important?”
“Because it makes Jesus happy!” said Eliza, Jonah’s little sister.
“You’re right! It makes Him very happy. And when we help others, it makes us happy too,” said Sister Christensen. “Do you know anyone who needs help?”
Jonah thought for a minute. “I can’t think of a person, but our garden at school could use some help.”
“Good idea,” said Mum.
Jonah’s school had a garden where they could do outdoor activities. But no one had taken care of the garden for a long time. The bushes were overgrown. There were lots of weeds too.
“We’d love to help you with that!” said Sister Kearl. “Who can we invite to help clean it with us?”
“Our cousins!” said Jacob, Jonah’s brother.
“And our Primary class,” said Jonah.
The next day, Mum talked to someone at the school to get permission. They picked a day to clean the garden. Then Mum helped Jonah and his siblings call their cousins and Primary class.
A few weeks later, Jonah and his family met the missionaries at the school. Their cousins and Primary friends were there too. It was time to get to work!
Jonah put on a pair of big rubber garden gloves. “Look, Mum. My hands are huge!”
Mum laughed. “You can use those huge hands to help trim these bushes.”
She handed Jonah some clippers that looked like giant scissors. Then she helped him cut away the dead branches.
“This is fun,” Jonah said.
While Jonah trimmed, Eliza helped dig around the garden. Jacob helped Daddy build a new bird house. The others pulled weeds and gathered sticks. They put them in big blue plastic bags. Even Jonah’s youngest brother, Ezra, helped by picking up rocks.
Soon the garden was clean. Jonah counted the bags they had filled. “There are 13 bags!” he said. “We cleaned up so much rubbish.”
Sister Christensen smiled. “Now we need everyone’s big muscles to help us carry these to the car.”
Jonah, Jacob, and Eliza each grabbed a bag. Jonah felt happy as he lifted the last one into the car. Helping the missionaries had been fun. He wanted to be a missionary someday too. Until then, there were lots of ways he could serve. He could hardly wait to think of his next project!

During the difficult economic conditions of postwar Germany, opportunities for education were not as abundant as they are today. But in spite of limited options, I always felt an eagerness to learn. I remember one day, while I was out on my bike delivering laundry, I entered the home of a classmate of mine. In one of the rooms, two small desks were nestled against the wall. What a wonderful sight that was! How fortunate those children were to have desks of their own! I could imagine them sitting with open books studying their lessons and doing their homework. It seemed to me that having a desk of my own would be the most wonderful thing in the world.
I had to wait a long time before that wish was fulfilled. Years later, I got a job at a research institution that had a large library. I remember spending much of my free time in that library. There I could finally sit at a desk—by myself—and drink in the information and knowledge that books provide. How I loved to read and learn! In those days I understood firsthand the words of an old saying: Education is not so much the filling of a bucket as the lighting of a fire.

They returned home full of questions and started to read some of the literature given them in Salt Lake City—a Book of Mormon, some missionary pamphlets, and a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Eager to know more, they called the Church in Oslo. On 10 January 1994, two elders knocked at their door.
On that first visit, Elders Landon Wright and Kurt Elison answered many of Solvor and Thor’s questions. Many visits followed. Thor and Solvor listened, and their hearts were touched as they learned gospel truths. They had some concern when they learned about the First Vision. “I wondered about Joseph Smith,” Solvor said. “At first I thought it was a strange story, but then I realized it wasn’t strange at all.
“I remembered a long night 35 years earlier—just before I gave birth to my first child. During a sacred experience that night, I was told that my baby would stay with me for only a short while—that he would soon be taken back into the presence of our Heavenly Father. I was devastated and prayed that it would not be true. But in the morning my child was born with severe medical problems, and the doctors confirmed what I had been told. I will never forget the despair I felt.”
After reliving that experience, Solvor thought again about the account of the First Vision and realized that what the elders had told them was true—that Joseph Smith had seen the Father and the Son and that they had spoken to him. “I believe now that my conversion actually began 35 years before we found the Church,” she says, “and that my child, lost to me so long ago, had been waiting for this moment.”

I think also of Father Maximilian Kolbe, a Polish Catholic priest imprisoned in the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz during World War II. Upon his arrival at the camp in May 1941, Father Kolbe was informed by an SS officer that the life expectancy of priests there was about a month. He was assigned to the timber detail, required to carry felled tree trunks from one place to another. When he collapsed from overwork and starvation, he was kicked, beaten, given fifty lashes with a whip, then shoved into a ditch, covered with branches, and left for dead. Miraculously, Father Kolbe survived. But a greater horror awaited him. A prisoner from Barracks 14, where Father Kolbe was housed, managed to escape. The prisoners from that barracks were paraded before the commandant. After a day standing in the sun, during which many fainted and were shot, the commandant, a monster named Fritsch, levied sentence. “Ten of you will die in the starvation bunker.” The starvation bunker was the horror of horrors: both food and water were denied; many prisoners spent their dying days howling, attacking each other, clawing the walls in a frenzy of fear. After a couple of days in the bunker, the inhabitants frightened even the guards.

Fritsch walked down the lines of prisoners, selecting his victims. One poor wretch, whose number—5659—was on the list, groaned and cried out: “My poor wife, my poor children, what will they do?”

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the ranks. A prisoner had broken out of line, calling for the commandant. That alone was enough to ensure his death. Though Fritsch had his hand on his revolver, he did not shoot.

“Halt!” he called. “What does this Polish pig want of me?”

The prisoners gasped. It was Father Kolbe who had spoken. He was much loved; he shared his last crust and comforted the dying. Surely, he would not have to die.

The frail priest spoke softly to the Nazi butcher. “I would like to die in place of one of the men you condemned.”

“Why?” shouted the commandant.

Father Kolbe sensed that he must not seem to be asking Fritsch to reverse his order. The priest bowed his head: “I am an old man, sir, and good for nothing.”

“In whose place do you want to die?”

“For that one,” Kolbe responded, pointing to the weeping prisoner—number 5659—who had cried for his wife and children.

“Who are you?” asked Fritsch, as though he saw Kolbe for the first time. The prisoner looked back at him, a strange fire in his dark eyes. “I am a priest.”

“Ein Pfaffe!” the commandant snorted. He nodded to his assistant. Number 5659 was crossed out, and number 16670—Kolbe’s number—replaced it.

Father Kolbe died as he had lived, serving and loving others. From the death cell came not the sounds of frenzied despair but the faint sounds of singing. This time, the prisoners had a shepherd to lead them through the shadows of the valley of death. (Story adapted from Chuck Colson, “The Volunteer at Auschwitz,” in The Book of Virtues, William J. Bennett, ed. [New York: Simon and Schuster, 1993], pp. 803–8.)

A man in our community had a son who when he was the age of 16 got involved with the wrong crowd, began to drink, and got involved in drugs. One day he came home high on drugs. His father and mother had talked to him several times. This time when he came home, the father called the sheriff. He asked the sheriff if he would come and pick his son and take him to a treatment center in Ogden, Utah.

As the sheriff got there, the father told him what they were going to do. The son was furious. He screamed and yelled and cursed at his mom and dad as the sheriff carried him out to the car, took him to Ogden, and put him in the treatment center. As he went through the treatment center, they said that he must have his parents come down and his family for counseling as well. He finally admitted and allowed them to come down, and got out of the treatment center.

He was married and then had one child. About three years later, he had a problem come up again. This time he called his brother and he said to his brother, "Will you take me back to the treatment center?" He said, "Do you think dad will come up with the money?" It had cost his father $10,000 for the first treatment. His brother said, "I'm sure we can come up with the money and I'll take you down." So he took him down to the treatment center.

Just before we came on our mission I met with him and he said to me, "If it had not been for a mom and dad that had cared enough for me to take me to a treatment center, I wouldn't have what I have today. I would not have a wife and four children that bless my life."

Brothers and sisters, there's nothing that's too expensive for us to do to help save our Heavenly Father's children from the temptations of Satan.

Dani craned her neck back all the way, but she still couldn’t see the top of the beautiful building. Her dad said it was called a cathedral. People who belonged to a different church came here. Dani didn’t understand why she and her family were visiting this church on a Friday, but Dad said they were going to something called Evensong.
“What’s that?” Dani asked.
“It’s a meeting where people sing songs, read scriptures, and pray together,” Dad said. “Like a big family before going home for the night.”
Dani liked how that sounded. She and her family were visiting England. Last Sunday they went to a ward in a city called York. In Primary all the kids knew the same scriptures and songs Dani did—but they said them with really cool accents. She knew the ward she visited was part of Jesus’s true church, just like her ward at home.
But this cathedral was very different from the church buildings she was used to. Once they were inside, she saw how tall the ceiling was. The windows were made from beautiful colored glass. Then she noticed a small table filled with little candles. Dani watched a boy light a candle and add it to a row.
“Why are you lighting candles?” Dani asked him.
The boy smiled. “I light a candle when I pray for special things. As long as the flame burns, I hope the prayer will continue to be heard by God.”
Dani gave the candles a closer look. They looked like regular candles to her. Even though she was a little confused, she wanted to be polite. She smiled back at the boy.
Dani and her family sat down, and soon Evensong started. She saw the same boy a few rows away. Then she realized she didn’t know any of the songs everyone else was singing. When they prayed, they read out of a little book. Dani thought everything seemed different from what she was used to.
But the music was beautiful, even if it wasn’t familiar. Then a man got up to read the scriptures. He was wearing robes, instead of a suit and tie like Dani’s bishop. But as he started reading, Dani realized she knew this story! He was reading about Jesus healing the ten lepers.
“Dad,” Dani whispered, “I love this story.”
Dad smiled. “Me too.”
Then the man in robes said a prayer. He asked God to bless those who were sick and in need. Just like Dani did! He also asked a special blessing on leaders of his church. Dani remembered how her family always asked Heavenly Father to bless President Thomas S. Monson and his counselors.
A warm feeling came into Dani’s heart. She knew Heavenly Father was telling her He loved all His children and heard all their prayers, even if they went to a different church and didn’t have the fulness of the gospel.
As they got up to leave, Dad checked his phone. He looked sad as he read his messages. “Sister Monson passed away,” he said quietly.
“Oh no!” Dani said a quick prayer in her heart that President Monson would feel comfort and be OK.
“Are you all right?” someone asked. It was the same boy from before. He had heard Dani, and he seemed worried.
“Sister Monson passed away,” Dani told him. “She was the wife of our prophet, President Monson.”
“I’m sorry,” he said kindly. “I’ll light a candle for him.”
Dani smiled and thanked him. She thought it was nice of the boy to say a special prayer for President Monson. She knew Heavenly Father would hear the silent prayer she said in her heart and the prayer the boy said too.