Gospel Story Finder

We hope that young people will be willing to sacrifice the pomp and show and pageantry of the civil weddings so that they and generally their parents with them can go to the holy temple for their marriages. Often the cost of a reception or a holiday or expensive gifts would more than pay for a temple wedding. When Sister Kimball and I were married, we had no ring nor costly reception. Eight years later I bought her a small diamond. She was content to wait until then.

I had always wanted a horse, and I shared that desire with my father as we worked together on the farm. One day, Dad took me to a horse auction with him to buy a pony. We sat and watched as different horses were brought into the arena. Before long, four foals were shown. Dad started to bid and eventually was the highest bidder for a sum of eleven dollars. As highest bidder, he had first choice to buy any one of the foals.

He turned to me and said, “OK, Son, which one do you want?” I was so excited! My dream had come true. There were three healthy foals and one that was scrawny and thin. I picked the scrawny one. I felt sorry for her and told my dad, “She needs me.”

We didn’t have any way to get my new foal home, so we took the backseat out of the car, and my father sat in the back of the car, holding the colt while my uncle drove us home.

I named my new friend Lady. She was very tiny and young; I had to feed her from a bottle three times a day. She followed me around and was almost like a member of the family! She mimicked everything I did. If I squealed, she squealed. When I ran, she ran right behind me. I enjoyed graham crackers, and that was her favorite treat as well. She grew into one of the most beautiful, award-winning, and well-mannered riding horses I have ever seen.

The fifth decision that I wanted to recount for you, was the decision I made to call myself on a mission again. I served a wonderful mission in Korea. As I mentioned I did most of it only being able to say that I believed the Book of Mormon was true, and I testified of those things that I knew to be true, and I felt the Spirit with me almost everyday when I was a missionary. But when I returned I began to feel the Spirit less and less as my life progressed. We moved to Boston and I enrolled in the MBA program at Harvard, and I was called at the time to serve as a counselor to our bishop, and I was a busy guy. I just did everything I could to magnify my calling. I was studying the scriptures everyday, I was praying, and yet on a day to day basis it just seemed like I was feeling the Spirit less and less as time wore on. And I yearned to have the same spirit return to me that I had felt when I was a missionary, and yet it didn’t seem like any of the usual levers of magnifying my calling or study or prayer brought the same spirit back into my heart
Then we moved to Washington and I had the chance to take a job in the Reagan Administration. All of a sudden we were living with new people and I was working with new people and I was riding in on the bus with new people, and it gave me many more opportunities than I had had living in a stable situation in Boston to begin talking with people about my church. Some of those opportunities then resulted in deeper opportunities to discuss the gospel, and I then invited one of my co-workers to come to our home with her boyfriend to hear the missionary discussions. I remember it was a Sunday afternoon, and my wife and I were scrambling around trying to clean up the living room before they and the missionaries arrived and I put on a cassette tape of the Mormon Youth Symphony and Chorus in our stereo, and they were singing “The Spirit of God,” like a fire is burning. They came to the third verse where they sang “We’ll call in our solemn assemblies in spirit/ To spread forth the kingdom of heaven abroad/ That we by our faith may begin to inherit/ The visions and blessings and glories of God.”[1] As they sang those words, I felt a beautiful spirit again come into the room and into my heart, and I realized that as I had begun working again to spread for the Kingdom of Heaven abroad as a member missionary, that the visions and blessings and glories of God had returned to my life. I was dreaming spiritual dreams and thinking happy, spiritual thoughts as I walked to the bus in the morning, and joy had come back into my heart, just as it had been there when I was a missionary.
This is what I realized: Just imagine that you’re the general of an army, and you’ve got some state-of-the-art-weapons, and you’ve got to decide which of your soldiers you’re going to give these state-of-the-art weapons to. You’ll give your best weapons to those soldiers who are right in the front line, engaged in direct combat with the enemy. Those soldiers who are operating behind the front lines, who are driving the supply trucks and cooking the soup and keeping the records, they won’t need the state-of-the-art weapons because they never really confront the enemy, per say. I realized what had happened to me is I had been released from my mission and had begun engaging in service in the church as a member that most of my assignments were in fact administrative in character, and as they were administrative in character, plain old Clay Christensen, with his plain old talents, was perfectly capable of doing most of the assignments that I was given as an administrator in the Church. But when I made that decision to become again a missionary for the Lord Jesus Christ, it was as if geographically I repositioned myself right on the front line, engaged in direct combat with Satan in this vicious war that he is waging over the souls of the children of men.
It turns out that missionary work is an assignment in the church at which we cannot succeed if we don’t have the Spirit with us at all times. And I am so grateful that I came to make that decision to be a missionary again because it has blessed our family in profound ways. The next year, 1984, I was listening to General Conference, and Elder M. Russell Ballard gave a talk at that time where he invited us as members of the church to set a date, a point in the future, as a commitment to our Heavenly Father. He invited us-don’t pick a person that we were going to share the gospel with but to set a date. He promised us that if we would do all that we could to engage in conversations about the gospel, with as many people as we could, that God would bless us by that date, that we would intersect with somebody who would accept our invitation to meet with the missionaries. His talk just sunk into my heart. That night I went home and knelt by my bed and committed to my Heavenly Father that by a date I would find somebody for the missionaries to teach. That was in 1984. That year, by the date, Heavenly Father blessed me to find a man who we could bring into our home to teach with the missionaries. I have set a date once, twice and now three times every year as a commitment to my Heavenly Father that I’m going to be a missionary, and every Sunday I fast that God will help me to intersect with somebody who I can invite to learn of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Every time I pray, I pray that God will put somebody in my path, and I’m grateful to be able to say that God has answered my prayer every time. It’s been 20 years.

On the morning of June 28, the bodies of Joseph and Hyrum were gently placed on two different wagons, covered with branches to shade them from the hot summer sun. William Hamilton and his father Artois accompanied Samuel Smith and Willard Richards to Nauvoo with the bodies of the slain Church leaders.

They left Carthage about 8:00 A.M. and arrived in Nauvoo about 3:00 P.M., where they were met by a great assemblage. When the bodies were returned to Nauvoo, they were washed and dressed. Then family and friends were ushered in to see them.

When young Joseph Smith III entered the room, he dropped upon his knees, laid his cheek against his father’s, and kissed him. He was heard saying, “Oh, my father, my father!” Other children of the Prophet and the patriarch crowded around to see their slain fathers. It was an almost unbearable scene.6

On the following day, June 29, the bodies lay in state in the Mansion House while thousands of Saints silently filed past the coffins, grateful but sobered to see their beloved leaders one last time. Mary Ann Phelps’s father took her to the Mansion House early in the morning, before the bodies were prepared for the public viewing.

“I went down, saw them, and laid my hand on Joseph’s forehead,” she said. “The sheet that was around him was stained with blood. Still he looked very natural.”7

Slowly, life in Nauvoo got back to normal. Missionaries left to serve missions; new converts arrived. Work continued on homes, shops, and most importantly, the temple. Young people fell in love and were married. Parties and sporting contests were held.

Yet the memory of Joseph and Hyrum did not fade. For example, one young woman made a sampler, a common activity at the time. She embroidered:
“Sacred to the Memory of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, Who fell as Martyrs for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, June 27th, 1844. Aged 38, and 44, years.
“Zion’s noblest sons are weeping,
See her daughters bathed in tears,
Where the prophets now are sleeping,
Nature’s sleep—sleep of years.
When the earth shall be restored,
They will come with Christ the Lord.”
She signed it: “Mary Ann Broomhead’s work, 1844, Age 13 years.”8

Following a short period of peace, dark clouds cast their long shadow on Nauvoo again. Eventually the Saints were driven out, leaving their beautiful temple and the graves of their Prophet and his brother behind. Yet these young people who lived in the days of Joseph and Hyrum remembered them throughout their lives. They passed on their personal stories and experiences to a new generation. By doing so they kept alive their own faith and the testimony of two great witnesses of the Restoration.

The last experience I’d like to share came when I passed the bar exam. A salty old trial lawyer approached me and said, “Bob, you can’t be a successful, effective trial lawyer and an active member of the LDS Church at the same time.” I considered others who were successful in their law practices and active in the Church, and I determined to be active in the Church. My decision didn’t affect my success as a trial lawyer. In fact, it enhanced it because I had balance in my life. I was trying to do what the Lord had asked me to do, and He gave me additional strength, understanding, and help.

The Lord has promised, “I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.”9 I began to understand this as a young missionary in Scotch Plains, New Jersey. One hot July morning my companion and I felt prompted to look up a Temple Square referral. We knocked on the door of the Elwood Schaffer home. Mrs. Schaffer politely turned us away.

As she began to shut the door, I felt to do something I had never done before and have never done since! I stuck my foot in the door, and I asked, “Is there anyone else who might be interested in our message?” Her 16-year-old daughter, Marti, did have an interest and had fervently prayed for guidance just the day before. Marti met with us, and in time her mother participated in the discussions. Both of them joined the Church.

Resulting from Marti’s baptism, 136 people, including many of her own family, have been baptized and made gospel covenants. How grateful I am that I listened to the Spirit and stuck my foot in the door on that hot July day. Marti and a number of her dear family members are here today.

One day, shortly before I was baptized, I was at my grandmother’s house when she went to the basement to get something. She tripped and fell and couldn’t get up. She called to me, but I was watching TV and didn’t hear her. After about 10 minutes, I heard my name quietly, “Tom!” I went to look for her and found her lying on the floor. I was not strong enough to help her up, so I ran to a neighbor’s house. She came and helped Grandmother up.
Grandmother told me, “Tom, that was the Holy Ghost that you heard. I was too far away for you to hear me.”
I know it was the Holy Ghost who whispered to me. Now I am baptized, and I am glad to have the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Tom R., age 8, Germany

In the early 17th century, Sweden’s king, Gustav II Adolf, commissioned a warship that would be christened the Vasa. The ship represented a substantial outlay of resources, particularly the oak from which the vessel would be built. Gustav Adolf closely oversaw the construction process, attempting to ensure that the Vasa would fully realize his expectations.
After construction began, Gustav Adolf ordered the Vasa to be made longer. Because the width supports had already been built from precious oak, the king directed the builders to increase the ship’s length without increasing its width. Although the shipwrights knew that doing so would compromise the Vasa’s seaworthiness, they were hesitant to tell the king something they knew he did not want to hear. They complied. Gustav Adolf also insisted that this ship have not simply the customary single deck of guns but cannons on three decks, with the heaviest cannons on the upper deck. Again, against their better judgment, the shipwrights complied.
On August 10, 1628, the Vasa began its maiden voyage. After the Vasa left the harbor, a strong wind entered its sails, and the ship began to tip. Before long, “she heeled right over and water gushed in through the gun ports until she slowly went to the bottom under sail, pennants and all.”1 The Vasa’s maiden voyage was about 4,200 feet (1,280 m).
Gustav Adolf’s desire for an extravagant status symbol ruined the design of what would have been a magnificent sailing vessel, the mightiest warship of its time. The shipbuilders’ reluctance to speak up—their fear of the king’s displeasure—deprived the king of their knowledge and insight. All involved lost sight of the goals of the enterprise: to protect Sweden and to promote its interests abroad. A ship that attempts to defy the laws of physics is simply a boat that won’t float.

The deepest taproot of any human life is the one we might call faith. Do you remember Alma likening the word to a seed? This passage tells us how important it is to prepare a place for the seed to grow. Let me tell you about a stake Primary president in Hawaii who had prepared herself. Last fall her six-year-old son was run over by a car. Though the emergency medical team arrived before he died, she told me that when she picked up his little body and held it close, she knew he would not live. Others who knew her marveled at her great strength in the face of this terrible tragedy. “How did you get prepared to meet the loss?” I asked her. This is what she told me:

In the summer before the accident, I began to slip into a feeling of deep depression. I tried to talk myself out of it, but I could not. I prayed and I thought, and I had the strong impression that I was not doing my scripture reading. Another strong impression came to me: I was not attending the temple regularly. I resolved to do something in response to these feelings. I began to read my scriptures regularly, and I began to go to the temple twice a month. As I began to do them consistently, a strength and a peace came to me. When the accident happened, I was fortified. I could go on because I knew that he had died a celestial being, and I could become more nearly like him if I kept closely tuned.

That’s one person’s experience, but it illustrates how she sent out her little root-hairs to find more of the life-giving water that sustains.

“Please, Mister,” the holdupper half-pleaded and half-threatened as he cocked the pistol pointed at the head of the tall American missionary, “I will be forced to shoot if you resist!”
The frightening episode was taking place on a street in San Andres Bukid (Manila) in broad daylight and in full view of terrified bystanders as two men, one armed with a .22 caliber pistol and the other with a fan knife, were forcing two missionaries to part with their attache cases, wallets and watches.
Sensing the futility of the situation, Elder William D. Larkin yielded. Elder Danilo M. Mabunga of Cubao, Quezon City, at whose neck the fan knife was pointed, did the same. Elder Mabunga, a five-foot-three Filipino then only two months old in the service of the Lord as fulltime missionary, was facing his first test on his missionary zeal.
After reporting the matter to the police, the two missionaries went home with an exciting story to tell their zone and district leaders. A week later, the two elders had another story to tell.
On August 25, 1975, a big bully who operated a shoe repair shop, along busy Herran street in Paco, Manila, resenting Elder Mabunga’s protest over the obvious overcharging for the repair of Elder Larkin’s pair of shoes, held the Filipino missionary by the collar and started to manhandle him.
The ensuing commotion caught the attention of an off-duty cop who was by chance in the vicinity and who came to the aid of the missionaries. The incident ended with a brief interlude of friendship with the cop, to whom they related their experience a week before, who in turn promised to help in the apprehension of the holdup men.
They shook hands and parted ways—but the harrowing experience of two unnerving incidents in a week’s time apparently was disconcerting to the two missionaries. Both forgot to take note of the cop’s name and address! That evening, they prayed hard for an opportunity to cross paths with him again.
One evening during the same week, they were teaching the gospel to the big Molinos family residing at Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila when someone knocked on the door. The elders momentarily stopped as the head of the family excused himself to open the door.
The Lord, indeed, works in strange ways. Who should come knocking on the door but the cop whose name the two elders forgot to take note of, and who turned out to be a relative on an unscheduled visit to the Molinos family without any purpose in mind.
The reunion resulted in a new turn of events in the life of the cop. He joined the Molinos family in listening to the message of the elders, hardly realizing that Elder Larkin and Elder Mabunga were silently thanking the Lord for an opportunity that came at the least expected moment.—P. Ocampo Jr.
Notes: The cop, Patrolman Antonio Buenaflor Molinos of Precinct 5, was baptized September 27, 1975, almost a month ahead of the big Molinos family of 2174 Road 5, Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila.
One of the holduppers was apprehended and jailed.

Most of the Laie Hawaii Temple was built with concrete made from crushed lava rock. But the builders also needed wood, which was hard to get in Hawaii because of World War I. One day one of the builders prayed and told Heavenly Father that they needed more lumber, or wood, to continue construction. After his prayer, a ship got stuck in a reef on its way to Honolulu. The owner said the local Saints could have his cargo if they would take it off of the ship. Guess what the ship was carrying? Lumber! (From Gerry Avant, “Building a Temple in Laie, Hawaii,” Church News, Nov. 18, 2010.)

When I was a new ninth-grade high school student, my English teacher announced that we were going to watch a movie as part of our study of Shakespeare and his works. She told us the movie was R-rated and asked if anyone had any objections. I built up the courage to raise my hand and told my teacher that I did not watch R-rated movies. My face felt like it was about to burst and my whole body felt like it was sweating, but inside I knew I had done the right thing. My objection seemed to silence the class, and I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
Later, my teacher questioned me further on the subject, and I told her that I would not watch the movie. My teacher left it up to me to choose between watching the movie she selected or accepting a lower grade for the assignment.
On the day before the movie was scheduled to be shown, I thought I was going to have to walk out of class and take the grade penalty. When my teacher announced that she had decided to show a different version of the movie, I felt relieved. There was plenty of moaning and whining from many of the students because of the change in plans. I thought everyone would be mad at me.
Instead, the students quickly quieted down, and my friends called me over to sit with them. Their support made me feel great. After class, I thanked my teacher for her decision to show an appropriate version of the movie.
I’m thankful for the standards of the Church. I know that when we keep high standards, we can make a difference in the world in our own small ways.

When these brothers were both in their preteen years, our family took a trip to the northwest states. We were to be gone three weeks, but after only a few days, Matt came to me one morning while I was shaving and said, “Dad, I want to go home.”
I asked, “Why?”
He said, “Because I can’t stand to be around Devin.”
I finished shaving and then called the two boys together. We sat alone in the middle of a room. I said, “Now, Matt, you tell me again right in the presence of Devin how you feel.”
Matt said, “I want to go home.”
Devin said, “Why?”
Matt said, “Because I can’t stand being around you.”
Young Devin, surprised and hurt, softly said, “Why not?”
Matt replied, “Because you get on my nerves and bother me all the time. I can’t stand it. I want to catch a bus and go home.”
Devin was silent for a few seconds and then spoke, “The reason I say things is because we’re always having contests and every time we play you win.”
Matt quickly replied, “Sure, I’m better than you.”
Tears were clearly visible in Devin’s eyes now as he stated, “Every time you win, I lose. And I can’t stand to lose.”
Matt was touched by these words from his little brother. He replied, “Well, I guess I won’t go home. But don’t keep saying things to me like you have been.”
Devin spoke with hope and he replied, “I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

Roger Bannister was a medical student in England who had an ambitious hope. He desired to be the first man to run a mile (1.6 km) under four minutes. For much of the first half of the early 20th century, field and track enthusiasts had anxiously awaited the day the four-minute-mile barrier would be broken. Over the years many outstanding runners had come close, but still the four-minute barrier stood. Bannister dedicated himself to an ambitious training schedule with the hope of realizing his goal of setting a new world record. Some in the sporting community had begun to doubt whether the four-minute mile could be broken. Supposed experts had even hypothesized the human body was physiologically unable to run at such speeds over such a long distance. On a cloudy day on May 6, 1954, Roger Bannister’s great hope was realized! He crossed the finish line in 3:59.4, setting a new world record. His hope to break the four-minute-mile barrier became a dream which was accomplished through training, hard work, and dedication.

On Saturdays and holidays, Junior loves traveling with them to nature reserves and other South African wonderlands, swimming with them in the backyard pool, singing with them, and working with them. He loves sharing family home evenings, family prayer, and family scripture study with them. He loves welcoming the home teachers to teach them. He especially loves sitting with them in sacrament meeting—and that’s where a problem arises. As a member of the stake presidency, Brother Mkhabele often visits other wards. In his own ward, he’s invited to sit on the stand. From Junior’s point of view, this leaves a big, dad-shaped hole right in the middle of the family, and it makes him sad. Junior understands that his dad is doing the Lord’s work, but it still hurts. For Junior, it’s a real sacrifice, and he makes it with real faith.
Faith comes naturally to Junior. Reading doesn’t. And yet, he reads the scriptures faithfully. The two most memorable people he has met there are Nephi and Jonah. “If God tells Nephi to do something, he does it. He’s not afraid of what people will do or think. And when Jonah got on a ship to run away from God, a big fish swallowed him. From that I learned not to be selfish or run away.” Following her big brother’s example, Thembisile loves the scriptures, too. Though she can’t read yet, she insists on having her own copy for scripture study.
Junior has been blessed with a bright mind, but it isn’t like a lamp that shines steadily in one place. It’s more like lightning that flashes brilliantly here and there all across the sky. With such a lively brain, Junior sometimes finds it hard to focus on one thing for long. One thing he does focus on, though, is the gospel.
Junior was recently baptized. “Father baptized me and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost. I felt fresh and clean.”
Brother Mkhabele was also deeply moved by the event. “It was the most edifying [inspiring] experience of my life. When I confirmed him, the Spirit was so great that I did not lack for words to bless him. I felt that the blessing he received was really inspired. And since then I’ve seen a change in him. He is beginning to concentrate better. He thinks more carefully before doing things. He feels a greater need to help people.”
Not long after his baptism, Junior was visiting another ward’s fast and testimony meeting with his father. He felt impressed to bear his testimony for the first time in public. “I wanted to see if I could bear my testimony in front of everyone. I couldn’t. Then Dad stood up and helped me, and I could.” Junior’s testimony is simple and strong. “I know that God lives. I know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet.”
Junior also has great faith in prayer. “When I pray, Heavenly Father gives me what I ask for unless it would not be right for me. If He doesn’t give me the things I want, it means they wouldn’t be right for me.” Honest as usual, he adds, “I usually pray at night, but sometimes I forget and just go to sleep. In the morning when I remember that I didn’t pray, I feel sad.”
Junior and Thembisile both love going to Primary. When they come home, Junior eagerly tells everyone what he learned. Thembisile loves singing Primary songs. They both love family home evening. Every Monday night Thembisile reminds her parents about family home evening. Ever hopeful, she sometimes reminds them on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, as well.
Thembisile and Junior have fun together. They play with blocks, swing on the swing set, and splash in the backyard pool. Sometimes they fight, but they always make up, often by building something together with Thembisile’s beloved blocks.
When Brother and Sister Mkhabele visited Junior’s school for a progress report, his teacher said, “Junior is so ambitious! He tells me that he wants to go on a mission.” Brother Mkhabele laughs. “She didn’t know that Junior belongs to a church in which most young men his age are planning on missions.”
Junior is already preparing for his. He has asked his mother to teach him how to cook and do his laundry and talked with his father about finances. Junior sees only one problem with missionary service. “I want my own room.” Why go on a mission and risk having a roommate? “Because I don’t want to be selfish to people who don’t know about the gospel. It will make them happy, and I want all the world to be happy.”
After school each day, Junior polishes his shoes and does his homework. After the evening meal, he takes all the dishes to the kitchen and sometimes helps to wash them. He does these chores by assignment, but he does many others by choice. His mother reports that he sometimes says, “Mom, you’re tired. You relax, and I’ll do everything for you.” He especially loves working on projects with his dad. He can do many things for himself—cooking breakfast, for example. He sometimes has an assistant, because whenever Thembisile sees anyone working (or playing), she joins in and helps.
When he grows up, Junior wants to be a policeman, a lawyer, and a college instructor, like his father; and a school teacher and dietitian, like his mother; and a good parent and a true Latter-day Saint. He’s on the right path.

Roberto frowned. This was only his second time at Primary since he had moved from Chile to America, and already his teacher was telling the class she loved him.
How can she say such a thing? Roberto wondered. She does not even know me. And besides, why should anyone love a chubby boy who doesn’t have nice clothes to wear? Tears threatened to fill his eyes as he thought of the many relatives and friends he had left behind in South America. He had been so lonely since his father had died. He and his mother had come to Utah so that she could learn English and attend Brigham Young University.
“I have made each of you a special valentine,” Sister Porter said, handing each child a shiny foil heart on which she had written “I love you.” Roberto took his but shrugged off the hug his teacher tried to give him. Later, when he got home, he tore up the card and threw it in the garbage.
All that week, Roberto felt very sad. During class, he looked out the window and daydreamed about moving back to Chile. He was never going to fit in here.
On Thursday afternoon, Roberto walked home from school. He forgot all about locking the door behind him when he saw a note from his mother taped to the refrigerator: “I’m taking a test. I’ll be back at 5:30. Read the Friends Sister Porter dropped off for you.”
After fixing himself a snack, Roberto began to leaf through the magazines.
First he looked at the pictures. Then he started to read a few stories. After a while he noticed that the sad and lonely feelings were starting to go away.
Then he remembered the unkind things some children had said on the school bus that morning when they thought that he couldn’t hear. One of the children had been in his Primary class! Hurt and anger began to build up inside him again until he looked down at the magazine in his hands. There was a picture of the Savior with little children all around Him. Roberto was surprised to find tears of happiness in his eyes. It was almost as if a voice was saying to him, “Jesus loves you, Roberto.”
A feeling of warmth and love surrounded him, and he knew somehow that the Savior truly did know him and love him. He was filled with hope and an overwhelming assurance that in time he would have many friends in his new school and ward.
Roberto thought back to Sunday and how Sister Porter must have felt when he pulled away from her hug. I will make her a valentine, he decided, jumping up and gathering paper and crayons. Then he remembered the new colored markers his mother had bought for her college classes. They were on top of the highest shelf in the kitchen, and he climbed onto the counter to get them.
Stretching as far as he could, he couldn’t quite reach them. He jumped just a little but lost his balance and fell. Twisting awkwardly, he plunged to the floor and heard an ugly cracking noise as he landed on his left arm.
Never had he felt such pain! His arm felt as if it was on fire. He knew that he should telephone his mother, but as soon as he tried to stand, waves of nausea and dizziness washed over him, forcing him back to the floor.
The clock on the wall read ten to four. Swallowing back the tears, Roberto began a silent prayer, asking Heavenly Father to send someone to help. As he worked up his courage to crawl to the phone, a car pulled into the driveway. His mother! Heavenly Father had sent her home early! But then he heard a knock, and after several moments, a familiar voice called his name.
“Help me!” Roberto yelled. “I’m hurt!”
The door opened and Sister Porter looked in. “What happened?” she asked, hurrying to his side.
“My arm—I think I broke it.” Roberto was embarrassed by his tears, but his teacher didn’t say anything about them as she gently helped him up and made him as comfortable as possible on the couch in the living room.
“Where’s your mother?” she asked him then. “Your arm will need to be X-rayed.” After leaving a message at the university for his mother, Sister Porter sat beside him. “I see you’ve been reading the magazines I sent over. Did you find any stories you really liked?”
Roberto felt a little shy, but talking helped keep his mind off the pain. “I read a lot of the stories, but the best part was finding this picture of Jesus with the little children. I have never seen it before.”
Sister Porter studied the picture, and a very peaceful look came to her face. “I think that this is a special picture, too, Roberto. Whenever I look at it, I feel how much love Jesus has for all children.”
Roberto found himself telling his teacher about his feelings on Sunday and all during the week. Then, somewhat sheepishly, he admitted that he had torn up the valentine he had received in class. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I was going to use my mom’s special markers to make you a valentine. They were up high, and when I climbed up to get them, I fell.”
Sister Porter smiled as she gently patted his cheek. “Crayons will do fine.”
Just then Roberto’s mother came in. “Roberto! Oh Roberto!” She knelt beside him, very tenderly feeling the large lump on his arm. “It must be broken. We will go to the hospital right away.” She looked at Sister Porter with worry and pleading in her eyes. “There will be many insurance papers. My English is not very good. …”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Sister Porter said. “I’ll call my children and have them fix supper. I’ll go with you to the hospital and help you with the papers.”
That evening was a long one. Many people were waiting in the emergency room, and it seemed forever before a nurse called Roberto’s name and he was examined and X-rayed. Never having had a cast before, Roberto felt a bit nervous. But Sister Porter stayed with him the whole time, entertaining him with a story about the time her oldest son had fallen from the backyard swing set and had broken his wrist.
Roberto lay on the examining table after the cast was applied. He was surprised to see that it was almost nine o’clock. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked his teacher. “Doesn’t your family need you?”
“They’ll be fine,” Sister Porter said, producing a granola bar from the depths of her purse. “Feel up to sharing this?”
They ate and talked while they waited for Roberto’s mother. Sister Porter had found a Spanish-speaking nurse to help his mother fill out the insurance forms.
“Do you know why I came to your house this afternoon?” Sister Porter asked.
Roberto shook his head.
“I was on my way home from running errands, and I felt prompted to stop my van. I think you must have been praying for help. Were you?”
“I was! I asked Heavenly Father to send someone. I am very glad He sent you.” Roberto smiled at his teacher.
Sister Porter asked to borrow a red marking pen from one of the nurses passing by.
“What do you need a marker for?” Roberto asked.
Sister Porter winked and uncapped the pen. “In this country, we have a tradition,” she said. “If someone gets a cast, we write nice messages on it. May I be the first to write on yours?”
Roberto nodded, curious and pleased.
Sister Porter drew a large red heart, then wrote I • U in the middle of it. She grinned mischievously. “This one you can’t rip up and throw away!”
“Don’t worry,” Roberto said, his eyes twinkling. “Today I have learned that you really do love me!”

Videos showing community or family projects can often demonstrate the blessings of the gospel in our lives. For example, when we lived in Houston, Texas, a member of our ward posted a short video about volunteering at the Church’s peanut butter canning project. He commented that one day each month all of the Church-produced peanut butter was donated to the Houston Food Bank.
One of his colleagues from work was looking for ways to volunteer. He saw the online video and realized he knew the ward member. So, he called him and asked if they could go together the next time there was an opportunity to volunteer. They volunteered together several times over the ensuing years, and each time they talked about Church programs and beliefs as they worked side by side.
During casual conversations, share how the gospel helps you.

In October 2005, President James E. Faust told the following story,
"I recently recalled a historic meeting in Jerusalem about 17 years ago. It was regarding the lease for the land on which the Brigham Young University's Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies was later built. Before this lease could be signed, President Ezra Taft Benson and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, then president of Brigham Young University, agreed with the Israeli government on behalf of the Church and the university not to proselyte in Israel. You might wonder why we agreed not to proselyte. We were required to do so in order to get the building permit to build that magnificent building which stands in the historic city of Jerusalem. To our knowledge the Church and BYU have scrupulously and honorably kept that nonproselyting commitment. After the lease had been signed, one of our friends insightfully remarked, 'Oh, we know that you are not going to proselyte, but what are you going to do about the light that is in their eyes?' He was referring to our students who were studying in Israel.
"What was that light in their eyes which was so obvious to our friend? The Lord Himself gives the answer: 'And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings.'[1] Where did that light come from? Again the Lord gives the answer: 'I am the true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world.'[2] The Lord is the true light, 'and the Spirit enlighteneth every man through the world, that hearkeneth to the voice of the Spirit.'[3] This light shows in our countenances as well as in our eyes."[4]

Let me share with you an experience from my childhood. I was the third of four girls. My mother thought she would never have a little boy. Finally that little boy came, but he was born without life. As a four-year-old I know I didn't fully comprehend the pain my mother felt, but I had my own pain. I didn't get that new little baby brother to play with. I remember wanting to rectify my pain. I had a cute little cardboard paper doll family. I played with that little family and gave them experiences that were dream-like. One night I took the little baby paper doll from that family, wrapped him in his little blue paper bunting, and laid him on my pillow. As I prepared to go to sleep, I prayed to Heavenly Father that He would make that baby come alive during my sleep that night. Well, you know that dream did not come true.

Now I understand a little bit better from my own experience as a mother what my mother went through. I look back and admire her for being a woman of great faith. She worked through her grief and her doubts that she could ever have a baby boy. She looked fear in the face when she had thoughts that if she tried again that baby would die too. She didn't listen to the voices of the world telling her she had done enough or to the voice of the adversary telling her it was wrong to have another child. Struggling through all of that, she went forward with faith and prayed that the next baby would be a boy.

A loving Heavenly Father answered her prayer and the pain gave way to pure joy with the birth of my brother Malcolm. I was six years old when he was born. I held and played with him often. In fact, my mother went on to have three more baby boys! By the time the youngest brother was born, I was thirteen years old and experienced enough to be even more involved. I remember once even taking a turn in the middle of the night to help my mother get some rest.

Now I am a mother and a grandmother. I have four very big boys of my own, and also three beautiful daughters and eighteen grandchildren. Attaining this dream I have had to work through difficult experiences of my own, and I am so grateful for a mother who chose the Lord Jesus Christ and passed on that legacy of faith to me. Truly, the dreams of a little four-year-old girl have come true because of the mercy and grace of the Savior whose invitation to us all is: "Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not."

While I am over in England, let me tell you about Lady Spenz. Lady Spenz had her title by virtue of her husband having been a member of the House of Parliament in England. She had a rather large home, her husband was deceased, and she decided to let out some of the downstairs apartments so that she might receive additional income. Along came two Mormon missionaries to rent the room, and they decided that Lady Spenz should have a touch of the gospel. They started teaching her; and after about the third discussion, on a night so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, she was reading in her living room and she could hear through the floorboards the two missionaries downstairs praying, never dreaming for a moment that Lady Spenz was listening. The missionaries prayed, “Heavenly Father, please bless Lady Spenz that she might recognize the truth that we are trying to give her, that she might be acted upon by the gift of the Holy Ghost, that she might come into the waters of baptism, that she might be united with her wonderful husband some day.” Well, you can guess the effect of that prayer on this lovely lady, who is now a member of this Church and who thanks the Mormon missionaries for coming into her home and bringing that kind of a blessing.