Gospel Story Finder

While some Church youth were protecting their own homes, others were behind the scenes helping firefighters in their vital role. O’Connor Tau, 14, who lives in the Liverpool Ward, Sydney Parramatta Stake, spent many hours at the chapel preparing food for firemen.

“We helped the firefighters and also made food for people who were stranded on the freeways,” O’Connor says. “I also had the job of collecting bread and other supplies from shops around the area. It was great because many of the shopkeepers were willing to give us the food for free.”

Elder Brook P. Hales related the story of Sister Patricia Parkinson, who was born with normal eyesight but by age 11 had gone blind.

Elder Hales recounted: “I’ve known Pat for many years and recently told her that I admired the fact that she is always positive and happy. She responded, ‘Well, you have not been at home with me, have you? I have my moments. I’ve had rather severe bouts of depression, and I’ve cried a lot.’ However, she added, ‘From the time I started losing my sight, it was strange, but I knew that Heavenly Father and the Savior were with my family and me. … To those who ask me if I am angry because I am blind, I respond, ‘Who would I be angry with? Heavenly Father is in this with me; I am not alone. He is with me all the time.’”

Has one of your friends ever said or done something to hurt you? That happened to the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Not long after William W. Phelps joined the Church, he became one of the Prophet’s close friends. A well-educated man, he was appointed printer for the Church. He moved his family to Missouri and became a leader in the Church there.
Later, because of some faults he thought he saw in the Prophet Joseph, William left the Church. He became a bitter man and an enemy of the Prophet. He signed a certificate defending the actions of one of the enemies of the Church. Because of William’s and others’ actions, Joseph not only lost a loved and trusted friend, he and some of the other leaders of the Church were sent to prison! Joseph suffered for many miserable months in jail.
Two years later, William Phelps realized that what he had done was wrong. “I am as the prodigal son,” he wrote in a letter to the Prophet. “I know my situation, you know it, and God knows it, and I want to be saved if my friends will help me. … I have done wrong and I am sorry.”
He begged for Joseph’s forgiveness and asked to be received again as a member of the Church.
Joseph answered immediately with love and forgiveness. He wrote: “Believing your confession to be real, and your repentance genuine, I shall be happy once again to give you the right hand of fellowship, and rejoice over the returning prodigal. … ‘Come on, dear brother, since the war is past, / For friends at first, are friends again at last.’”*
In spite of the terrible things that William did to hurt the Prophet, Joseph forgave his friend, and William became a valiant servant of the Lord once more. He wrote the words to fifteen hymns; many of them were included in the first LDS hymnbook. One of them, “Praise to the Man,”† was written especially about his forgiving friend, the Prophet Joseph.
Sometimes our friends say things or do things that hurt us. We can forgive them, just as the Prophet Joseph forgave his friend. Joseph told William that he wanted to follow the example of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. He wanted to be as kind and forgiving as They are. We can do that, too. As we follow the example of Jesus Christ, we will be happy. We will be keeping our baptismal covenant, and we may be able to help our friends keep their covenants, just as the Prophet Joseph Smith helped his friend, William.

After Todd and I got engaged, my mom suggested that we go to the temple a lot as a way to prepare for our marriage. Todd and I decided it was a good suggestion. Sometimes Todd performed baptisms with me, and sometimes he went to an endowment session while I participated in baptisms.

Todd and I were sometimes so busy we thought we wouldn’t have time to go to the temple. We had work and school and wedding preparations, but we wanted to go to the temple. Once we went to the temple instead of a football game that we had tickets to because we didn’t have any other time to go.

The blessings have been amazing. When I do baptisms for the dead, I learn how the Spirit speaks to me. Being able to forget worldly things and focus on the Savior has been really good. Todd and I haven’t had struggles or felt tempted because we’ve been going to the temple so often.

He has great faith in the power of prayer. It’s how he received his testimony of the gospel. He often takes his problems to his Father in Heaven, and he has often been helped. Once he was worried about a mathematics test in school. He had studied hard but was afraid that he might get nervous and forget how to do the problems. He prayed that he would remain calm. The prayer was answered, and he passed the test. Alan knows that life will bring him harder tests than the kind they give in school. But with faith and work and Heavenly Father’s help, he hopes to pass them all.

It was her first day on the job as a dietary aid for a nursing home. Dawn Dyrhaug, 15, of Arlington Heights, Illinois, could have hesitated when she heard the sound of someone choking. What if she did something wrong? She could have held back, but she didn’t.
Dawn went into action. She knew she had only about four minutes to dislodge the food that prevented Clara Lieptz from breathing. Help might not arrive in time. Besides she had been trained to help.
She clasped her hands below the elderly lady’s rib cage in the Heimlich Maneuver. Dawn had learned that in many cases it would be necessary to repeat the procedure. To her relief, however, repeated attempts were not necessary.
In the days following the incident, Clara introduced Dawn as the girl who saved her life. Dawn felt good. For four years during YW girls’ camp with her stake, she had learned lifesaving techniques and first aid.
For having the know-how and exhibiting the courage to use it, Dawn will receive the American Red Cross Certificate of Merit signed by President Reagan and Illinois Governor Thompson.
Dawn is a member of the Northwest Second Ward, Schaumburg Illinois Stake.

In fact, a few years after that eventful day, the same boss visited our office in Rome. He was still the same man, full of power and authority. Again, he looked intimidating to all of us.
This time, after all the meetings, he approached me in a different way. He was surprisingly kind. He told me that he still remembered the day when I stood for my beliefs. Then, to my surprise, he asked if I would accept to become the manager of the agency for all of Europe, which was a huge opportunity for my career. As he tried to convince me that the new job would be appealing in terms of salary, travel, and benefits, what really made the difference was when he said: “We look not only at good qualifications. We need people with integrity, who stand for their principles. We need people like you.”
I was surprised to hear those words, to see that my small decision to stand for my beliefs years before eventually had such a big impact on him. My small decision ultimately resulted in a great blessing for me, both temporally and spiritually. Ironically, as part of my new assignment, I also became the supervisor of most of the managers who had laughed at me years before.

One mother who learned to put her trust in the arm of the Lord taught a son to do the same. Later, as a man bearing testimony to the power of prayer, he said: “It was through the example of my mother that I learned to depend on the Lord. Whenever we had an important decision to make, we would discuss the problem, and then my mother would say, ‘Now, let’s take it to the Lord.’ I often came home to find housework left at a standstill and my mother kneeling in prayer. Friends coming into the house sometimes asked me, ‘What is your mother doing?’ I would say, ‘She is taking a problem to the Lord.’”

Isabelle squinted up at the deep blue sky. There were no clouds in sight. She licked her dry lips.
Her parents were talking quietly with President Santiago, the stake president. The motor of the boat was so loud that she couldn’t hear them. But she knew what they were talking about. There was no more drinking water.
Isabelle tried to focus on the reason for their journey. They were going to the temple to be sealed as a family! She remembered hearing her parents talk about the beautiful temple in São Paulo ever since she was a little girl. Going there almost seemed like a fairy tale. After all, Isabelle’s family lived in Manaus, deep in the Amazon rainforest, and the temple was more than 2,000 miles (3,219 km) away.
Then President Santiago had planned a six-day trip to get there. More than 100 members had decided to go. “It will be a sacrifice,” Mamãe had told her. “But sacrifice brings blessings.”
At first, the trip was exciting. They slept in hammocks on the deck of the boat, sang hymns, and read scriptures.
But then the drinking water had run out, and the river water was too dirty to drink.
Isabelle felt Mamãe touch her arm. “President Santiago is gathering us all together,” she said. “We’re going to pray for rain.”
Isabelle joined the group, and the prayer began. After the prayer ended, she felt cool air tickle her neck. She raced to the side of the boat and gasped. Gray storm clouds were moving toward them. Soon rain began to pour down! She opened her mouth to catch the raindrops on her tongue.
“Quick!” cried Mamãe. “Grab buckets, pans—anything!”
Isabelle grabbed a pan and held it out. She wanted to catch all the water she could. Everyone worked together, laughing and celebrating. Soon they were having a giant soaking party! The storm lasted for 15 minutes. It was long enough for them to get all the water they needed. It was a miracle.
Soon the boat reached land. But they still had 1,500 miles (2,414 km) to go. Everyone got on a bus for the rest of the trip. For days, the bus jolted over the rough roads. One time it bounced so hard that the windshield broke! Sometimes they rode through hot, crowded cities. But at least the roads there weren’t so bumpy!
Everyone was always grateful when they stopped at a village or town to eat. They ate at chapels or with Church members along the way. The first night, they arrived so late that Isabelle was afraid that no one would be waiting. “Don’t worry,” Mamãe said with a tired smile. “Look!”
The branch president and Church members were lined up across the road. They held a banner that read “Sacrifice brings blessings.” Isabelle smiled. Mamãe was right!
After three bumpy days, they finally reached São Paulo. Isabelle stood on her seat to get a better view as the bus drove around a curve. Suddenly everyone on the bus burst into cheers. “O templo! O templo!” They could see the tall, thin temple spire rising above rows of palm trees.
Everyone was exhausted, but no one wanted to rest. They wanted to be sealed right away. When it was time for her family to be sealed, Isabelle carefully dressed in white. As she walked into the sealing room, she saw her father beaming. Tears of joy streamed down Mamãe’s face. Their journey had been long and even dangerous. “But the sacrifice was worth it,” Isabelle thought. She smiled as she took her place to be sealed to her family forever.

Jackson stayed close to Mom as they walked into their neighbors’ storage room. It was dark in there. Something brushed across his face, and he jumped.
“Just a little cobweb, Jackson,” Mom said. She bent down and picked up a cardboard box. “Here it is.”
Inside were Mrs. Karras’s wreath and a small nativity set. Jackson helped set them out for her every year while Dad and Grandpa put up the Christmas lights outside.
Jackson carried the box upstairs. He saw Mrs. Karras sitting in her wheelchair in front of the window. Careful not to trip on the cords from her oxygen tank, Jackson placed the box at her feet.
Mrs. Karras made a tiny noise in her throat and pointed outside. Carter and Kennedy, Jackson’s little brother and sister, were rolling in the snow and throwing snowballs at their big yellow dog. Madison, Jackson’s older sister, was handing a string of lights to Dad.
“This would be fun,” Jackson thought, “if it didn’t take all day.”
Not sure what he should say to Mrs. Karras, he put on his hat and mittens and went out to help.
“Jackson, grab me that step stool from the truck,” Grandpa called to him.
“Can you bring me the electrical tape off the front seat?” Dad asked.
“And then come hold these lights for Dad,” Madison ordered.
“Next the dog will be bossing me,” Jackson thought. But he got the stool and the tape, and he took the lights from Madison so she could go warm up inside.
Soon Grandpa walked over and handed him another string. “Even more lights this year than last year,” he said. “It’s going to be quite a display.”
“Why does Mr. Karras keep buying more lights?” Jackson asked.
“Well, he knows they make his wife happy,” Grandpa said, nodding in the direction of the window. “Since she is sick, he does all he can for her.”
Jackson looked to the window and saw that Mr. Karras had pulled a chair next to his wife. He seemed to always be sitting by her and talking to her, even though she couldn’t talk back.
When the last light was strung, Jackson carried the empty boxes back to the storage room. Walking back, he heard Mom telling Mrs. Karras about one of their Christmas traditions.
“On Christmas Eve we sit around the tree, with all its pretty lights, and we share stories about how God’s light has touched us, and the ways we feel and share His love.”
Jackson smiled. He was glad to help Mr. and Mrs. Karras.
That evening after dinner, Dad said, “Time to make sure all those lights came on.”
The family got into the car and Dad drove through town to the top of a hill. In the darkness below, the Karrases’ house was easy to spot.
“Wow,” Jackson whispered.
Lights wrapped around the large pine tree, traced the roofline of the house, and twinkled along the fence. Every bush and every window shone.
“I bet Mrs. Karras is looking out right now, just smiling and smiling,” Madison said.
“I think so too,” Mom agreed.
All at once, Jackson knew what he would talk about when they sat around their tree on Christmas Eve. It seemed to him that all those little Christmas lights were glowing in his heart.

“Will you give the blessing if she wants you to?” asked Jacob on the other end of the phone line. Jacob, my home teaching companion, explained that one of the people we home taught wanted a blessing.
“What would I say in a blessing?” I wondered. I was only 18, and I’d just become an elder and moved away to college. I had prepared my whole life to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, but I had never thought about the day when I would really need to use it.
I hesitated, swallowed hard, and then heard myself say reluctantly, “Yes.” As soon as I realized what I had said, I cut the word so short that it was hardly audible. I hadn’t meant to say it, but somehow it had popped out of my mouth.
“Great!” cheered the enthusiastic voice. “I’ll be over in a couple of minutes.”
I stood by the phone in my basement apartment, considering calling Jacob back to tell him I couldn’t do it. Then I remembered my dad. Whenever he had to give a blessing, he went quietly into another room and prayed first. He would always say, “Just a second,” and then go say a prayer without anyone noticing. I had noticed though.
Alone in my apartment, I knelt down next to the couch. I bowed my head and started to pray: “Heavenly Father, I might be giving a blessing in a few minutes, and I’ve never done it before. If it be Thy will, help me to have my mind clear of my own thoughts and help me to know by the Spirit what I should say.”
As I stood up, I had a peaceful feeling that I was worthy and that the Spirit would tell me what I needed to say when I needed to say it. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Several minutes later Jacob and I were in our suits and ties, sitting in the home of the young lady we home taught. The three of us talked for a few minutes about how her life was going. She was having a difficult time and hoped a priesthood blessing would help.
“Who would you like to give the blessing?” Jacob inquired.
She turned to me. “Will you give the blessing?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, this time without cutting the word short.
We pulled a white metal chair from the kitchen table into the middle of the room. As I laid my hands on her head, I silently repeated my prayer that I would know what to say. Jacob placed his hands on top of mine, and I began speaking: “By the authority of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood, we lay our hands upon your head and give you a blessing …”
As soon as I finished speaking those words, I knew what to say next. She had told us what her troubles were, and some of the words that came to my mind were about those troubles. Some of the words, though, dealt with things she hadn’t even mentioned. It wasn’t as though I thought ahead about what to say next; the words just came to my mind. They weren’t words I had heard my dad or my companion use. I could feel the Spirit telling me what to say.
After I ended the blessing, she looked up with tears in her eyes and thanked me. I realized I also had tears in my eyes, and I silently thanked my Heavenly Father. He really does inspire worthy priesthood holders. I learned that truth because I had prepared myself to be worthy to receive and use the Melchizedek Priesthood.

About 11 o’clock we drove up to the home of Mons Andersen, and out came Sister Christine Andersen to bid us welcome and put her arms around us one by one and kiss the rest of them. When my turn came, that was something I was not used to, so I didn’t know what to do. For some reason I didn’t run away. A host of neighbor children and aged folks came around us and shook hands with us. I guess they bid us welcome, for I could not understand a word of English. The children were at Sunday School but soon arrived home. They also kissed us welcome, and by that time I was kind of getting used to it. But they surely made us feel at home.
There was another striking thing that helped me on my way toward investigation. It was just when lots of fruit was ripe, such as strawberries, gooseberries, and early apples. Those who have met Sister Andersen know what a loving disposition she had. She said, “Go out and help yourselves.” If it had not been for her loving way, I could barely have thought she meant it. But she surely did. It was something different to what it was in Norway. I was getting closer to joining the church.
Now I hadn’t had time to think of what to do to earn a living in a strange land with a strange language. On Friday morning, July 26, 1872, there came a man to the house of Mons Andersen who wanted a boy to help him in the field. His name was Peter Petersen. My wages were $8.00 a month. I worked with him 20 months. I must now tell a little that happened in that time. It was customary at that time that newcomers should be rebaptized. So Peter Petersen’s wife, Karen Larsen Petersen, told me, “There will be baptisms today. So you must hitch up the horses and take these people down to the mill pond to be baptized. And you must be baptized too.” I told her I would be glad to take them down, but I was not ready for baptism yet.
That coming winter I started to go to school so I could learn a little English. I had also gone with Mons Andersen’s boys to Sunday School. Eischa Pack was the teacher at that time. They were reading in turns out of the Bible; but when it came my turn to read, Brother Pack would read my verse, and there was not even a moment wasted. I was glad although I could not understand what they said. Yet I got to enjoying Sunday School. Sister Karen Larsen Petersen became sick and died on February 7, 1873, and that ended my schooling at that time. But I learned enough so I got into the Third Reader.
Now I had been studying the gospel and praying about it. I knew Jesus’s answer to Nicodemus as we find recorded in the third chapter of John: “Except a man is born of water and of the Spirit he cannot enter into the kingdom of Heaven.” [John 3:5] So on August 30, 1873, I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by Mons Andersen and confirmed by Abraham Lossee in Lehi.

I have a bad habit. I like to bite my fingernails. My parents are always trying to get me to stop. One Sunday morning my Primary teacher, Sister Langston, asked if I would stay after class. When we were alone, she asked if she could see my fingernails. She had seen me biting them all during her lesson. I was a little embarrassed to show them to her because I had chewed them so badly. After I showed her my nails, I was surprised when she showed me hers. She had the same problem! She told me that she wanted me to stop so that I wouldn’t be biting my nails when I was her age. She told me that if I could overcome the temptation to bite my fingernails, I would become a stronger person. We decided to have a contest to see who could grow her fingernails out first.
I’m glad I have a Primary teacher who cares about me and wants me to overcome bad habits. She has taught me that we are on earth to learn to become better, even when things may be difficult for us. I have also learned that no matter what age Sister Langston and I are, we both have to keep trying to improve so that we can be strong enough to be able to go back to live with our Heavenly Father again.
At first I wanted to win the contest, but I have decided it would be even better if we both win!Taylor Lynne Ottley, age 8Escondido, California

When I opened my mission call, I was excited that I was going to the Ghana Accra Mission. I would be serving the Lord by teaching the gospel in English. I am from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, so my native language is French.
When I arrived in the mission field, I could greet people in English but not say much else. I knew that was not enough for me to fulfill my duty as a missionary.
I thought of the Prophet Joseph Smith, who translated the Book of Mormon “by the gift and power of God.”1 I also thought of the Apostle Paul’s teachings about “diversities of gifts,” including “divers kinds of tongues” and “the interpretation of tongues” (1 Corinthians 12:4, 10; see also Mormon 9:7, 24).
A motivational feeling came over me that made me feel that I could seek the gift of tongues and receive it. To receive that gift, I decided to set several daily goals:
Pray for the gift of tongues.
Diligently study the scriptures and gospel doctrine and principles.
Seek guidance from the Spirit.
Listen to general conference talks in English.
Study English grammar and key missionary vocabulary.
Always speak English.
Sing hymns in English.
I worked hard on my goals. The gift of tongues, however, did not come right away. But after a few months, while my companion and I were teaching one of our friends, I felt confident in the words I spoke. Our first meeting with our friend had been challenging. I hadn’t felt any confidence in my ability to speak English, but this day our friend acted surprised.
“Elder Lono, where are you from?” he asked me
“I am from DR Congo,” I replied.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes!” I replied.
I hadn’t realized it, but I had become fluent enough in English that our friend thought it was my native language. I am grateful that the Lord blessed me with the gift of tongues so that I could speak English well.
I know that God loves His children and will bless us with gifts of the Spirit as we seek them diligently with faith in Jesus Christ.

This experience is familiar to those who have been involved in translating the scriptures from English into other languages. It happens over and over:
A young Armenian holding a copy of the Book of Mormon only recently translated into his language approaches a member of the team who assisted with the translating: “Thank you,” he says. “I have read the Book of Mormon in English. I have read the Book of Mormon in Russian. I have read it in Ukrainian. But until I was able to read it in Armenian, I did not truly understand it. When I read it in Armenian, it finally made sense. It was like coming home.”

I still vividly remember my first meeting five years ago with Elder Richard L. Evans. I had called his office concerning a matter on which the Improvement Era staff had raised several serious questions. Our managing editor, Doyle L. Green, was in Europe on a major Era assignment; and I, a new staff member of only six months, had been left with instructions to see Elder Evans in case of an urgent problem.
On reaching his office, and after a minute’s wait, I was ushered in by a secretary. My first glimpse remains unforgettable. On his desk were three or four nearly foot-high piles of files and folders. Galley proofs for several Church manuals were spread out across the center of his desk. Behind it, left leg tucked under him (apparently one of his special ways of resting leg muscles during long ten-to-twelve-hour days at his office), in a chair swiveled to one side sat Elder Evans. With his lap piled full of correspondence, he was softly and deliberately voicing replies into a dictaphone. Another table with books and folders neatly lumped on its surface stood behind him. A very large dictionary, with protruding pencil underneath several overturned pages, lay open on its stand to his side. The complete left wall of his office seemed lined with books.
Before me sat a handsomely graying sixty-year-old man of slight yet dignified physique who had been making important editorial decisions for nearly forty years. Surely I was in the right place for an answer. As a twenty-one-year-old missionary, he had been associate editor of Great Britain’s respected mission publication, the Millennial Star. While walking down a Salt Lake City street after returning home, he decided on the moment to seek employment at KSL radio station. They hired him, and four years later he was named one of America’s best radio announcers.
At twenty-four years of age he began his great career as Tabernacle Choir commentator and author of his own “Spoken Word.” Six years later, the call came to be managing editor of the Improvement Era. Since that time he continued to grow in editorial stature. He authored numerous books, became a world-famous personality, was called at age thirty-two to the First Council of the Seventy and then at age forty-seven to the Council of the Twelve (in both quorums he was their youngest member when appointed). Wherever he went and whatever he did, his name only continued to rise higher and higher. Certainly this man could solve our little problem.
After he finished the letter he was dictating, he turned and said, “Please sit down and tell me what’s come up.” I did, and then as he leaned back in his chair he concurred about the seriousness of the problem. After talking about it for a few minutes, he came around from behind his desk, sat down beside me, and started to ask questions: “What do you think would happen if we did such-and-such?” I would respond, and then he’d ask, “What do you think if we did something else?” And so it went, until half a dozen possible courses were discussed.
Then he stood up and said, “I’m glad you came over because, no fooling, this is a serious matter, and it has some delicate overtones. The Lord bless you in your decision.”
Stunned by his decision to not make a decision, or was it confidence in a new staff member’s ability to handle the matter, I walked in silence to the door, his arm on my shoulder. He opened the door and took my hand to say good-bye and slowly said, “This is a very delicate and serious matter. You’ll make a good decision.”
As I left, thinking about what to do, I couldn’t help but recall the Prophet Joseph Smith’s great statement that he taught correct principles and then left the Saints to govern themselves.

I got an invitation to one of my friend’s birthday parties, and I couldn’t go because it was on Sunday. I made a choice to not go to the party, and instead of going to the party to go to church. One of the Ten Commandments is to keep the Sabbath day holy. I want to show Heavenly Father I love Him by obeying His commandments. It was hard to miss the party, but I feel good because I know I made the right choice.

On William’s 21st birthday, May 1, 1858, he and the crew received shore leave in Honolulu. William heard prior to leaving Britain that President Brigham Young had sent missionaries to the Pacific islands, so the young convert tried to locate some Saints “but could find no record of them.” Unknown to him the Church had called home its Pacific missionaries to help defend Zion, if necessary, against a United States army then marching toward Utah. Ironically the last elders working in Hawaii left the islands the very day that William landed in Honolulu.

The seaman, an isolated Mormon cut off from contact with the Church, continued to nourish his faith by himself. He read and reread the “works of the Church” that he had brought along. A priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, he was “posted in regard to the authority of a priest to administer the sacrament,” so he felt justified in holding his own private sacrament service in his “beef house” aboard ship. “I prayed often, to the Lord,” he said, “and asked Him to acknowledge me in the administration.” On Sundays, after the ship’s religious service, William returned to his room where “I would place the hardtack [ship’s bread] and water upon a table and then offer prayer, after which I would ask the blessing upon the bread and water and partake of it. In this way I received much spiritual strength.”

The big sheets of stamps are waiting to be affixed to the pile of envelopes. But Rebecca Pedersen is only one person. A Laurel in the Allerøt Ward, Rebecca has a few thoughts about pornography and its damaging influence, and she’s doing something about it. But the work—stuffing envelopes with literature—is tedious and time-consuming.
As she addresses the envelopes, she begins talking of her involvement with a program organized to protest the prominence of pornography in Denmark.
“Pornography has such a large effect on our values, but Denmark is quite a liberal country and I can see where people almost get used to the pornography. But instead of getting used to it, we should be startled by it,” Rebecca says.
At Rebecca’s school, a fellow student started this protest against pornography and enlisted Rebecca’s help. As they educate, they are also gathering signatures for a petition they hope will gain them a voice in the government—especially with Denmark’s minister of culture, who oversees public television in the country.
“We can’t stop people from looking at pornography,” Rebecca explains, “but we’d like to see pornography removed from public places where kids can easily see it. You can’t just put kids to bed early and expect them not to see those things on television.”
As she thinks about her Young Women values and considers what she represents as a member of the Church, Rebecca is glad to be involved in something she hopes will effect a change.
“You have to make a statement in your life. I think it’s important for us, especially as members of the Church who have the truth that we have, to do something to make the world a better place,” she says. “That thought has always struck me, but a couple of months ago when I received my patriarchal blessing, I realized even more that I had to do something.”
When Rebecca’s group completed the project and sent off the petition to the government, she allowed herself to think about the small part she did in getting more than 22,000 people to sign and how it strengthened her resolve to make Denmark a better place. She also smiles. They easily exceeded the goal of 15,000 signatures they set before they began.
Rebecca knows things are not going to change overnight. But you have to start somewhere, right? “I think there are a lot of people out there who hate pornography and its effects. But I think many people are willing to not do or say anything, or they’ll buy the magazines and watch the TV shows. Sometimes I think people maybe just need a little reminder once in a while.”

Hironui Johnston, 16, and his sister Merirani, 15, spend a lot of time at the Papeete Tahiti Temple.
They aren’t performing baptisms for the dead, except for a couple times each year. They aren’t even inside the temple. They’re on the temple grounds—not gardening or doing some other service project—just sitting or walking around. But always looking.
“I love to see the temple,” says Merirani. “We have a lot of good memories here.”
Hironui and Merirani go to the temple grounds because of how they feel there. It’s a place where they can get away from the world.
“Our neighborhood isn’t bad, but there are some bad kids there,” says Hironui. “So we spend time here. It feels so good to be on the temple grounds.”
Sometimes their whole family comes, whether for a family home evening activity or just to spend time together.
“Sometimes when we aren’t getting along, we come here to put things right again,” Hironui says. But even when the Johnstons aren’t at the temple, the temple is part of their lives.
“I think we have a picture of the temple in every room in our house,” Hironui says. “It’s beautiful. It reminds us that our family can be together forever. Seeing it helps us feel the same peaceful spirit.”
“We watch our parents go to the temple,” says Hironui. “We see them living worthy to go. We see how their temple attendance blesses us, and we choose to follow them.”
That love for the temple, which began with the Johnstons’ parents, has been passed on to Hironui and Merirani. And it won’t end there. Their actions can pass it on to the next generation.
“I want to have children someday,” says Merirani. “I want to teach them that the temple is the house of the Lord and that if we are faithful we can be together forever because of the temple.”
“The blessings of the temple go both ways. This generation is being blessed today. As they grow and do the work for their ancestors, those blessings reach into the past. And as this generation begins raising the next, those blessings will roll on into the future.
“The Lord has given us a real blessing by building His house in our land,” Merirani says. “But the greatest blessing is that through the ordinances of the temple, our ancestors and families can be sealed together, and we can all live with our Father again. I would do anything for that blessing.”