Gospel Story Finder

One summer my father said that he had a big job for me and my brother, Clay, to do. Pointing to a nearby field with a bunch of lambs in it, Dad said that he’d share any money that we made from raising and selling them.
We were excited. There were about 350 lambs, and all we had to do was feed them. However, none of the lambs had mothers. To feed one or two baby lambs is easy, but to feed 350 of them was a real job. We made some long, V-shaped troughs out of boards, then got a tin washtub, ground up some grain, put it into the tub, and added milk to make a thin mash.
When we herded the lambs to the troughs, they just stood there looking at us. We tried pushing their noses down into the milky mash, and we tried wriggling our fingers in the mixture to get them to suck our fingers. Some of them would drink, but most of them ran away.
Many of the lambs were starving to death. The only way that we could be sure they were eating was to pick them up and feed them.
At night the coyotes would sit up on the hill and howl. The next morning we’d see the results of their night’s work, and we’d bury two or three more lambs.
Clay and I soon forgot about becoming rich. All we wanted to do was save our lambs. It really wasn’t too bad until I made a pet of one of the lambs and gave it a name. It was always under my feet, and it knew my voice. I loved that lamb. One morning it didn’t come when I called it. Later that day I found it under the willows by the creek. It was dead. With tears streaming down my face, I picked up my lamb and went to find my father. Looking up at Dad, I said, “Isn’t there someone who can help us feed our lambs?”
After a long moment he said, “Jayne, a long, time ago, Someone Else said almost those same words: ‘Feed my lambs. … Feed my sheep.’” (John 21:15–16.)
Many years later, while pondering Moses 1:39—“For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of [all mankind]”—I remembered the summer of the lambs, and I sensed how the Savior must feel with so many lambs to feed, so many souls to save. And I knew in my heart that He needed my help.

Lindsay felt nervous as she looked around the hospital room. She knew that soon someone would come to take her to the operating room for surgery. Mom and Dad stood close to her bed.
A few days before, Lindsay’s family had had a special family home evening. Mom gave a lesson about priesthood blessings. Then each member of the family told about a time when he or she was blessed by the power of the priesthood. Lindsay felt peaceful and happy as she listened to their testimonies. Mom explained that the peaceful feeling was the Holy Ghost telling Lindsay that what she was hearing was true.
At the end of the lesson, Lindsay’s older brother, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, put a drop of consecrated oil on her head and said a prayer. Then Dad gave her a wonderful blessing. He said that Heavenly Father knew and loved her. He said that the doctors would be blessed in their work and that the surgery would go well. He also promised that Lindsay would have a special feeling of comfort and peace that would replace her fears.
Waiting in the hospital, Lindsay tried to be brave, but tears slowly leaked from the corners of her eyes. Two men in hospital clothes came into her room and said it was time for the surgery. They were kind as they tried to cheer her up, but still Lindsay’s fear did not go away.
Lindsay hugged Mom and Dad from her bed. Then one of the men pulled up the railing on her bed so she would be safe as they wheeled her down the hall. As Lindsay turned to see what he was doing, she saw a familiar silver ring on his finger. A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart as she saw the letters CTR on the ring. Lindsay smiled as her fears slipped away. She knew that everything was going to be fine.

This lesson that there is no free ride was reinforced when I was working for Andersen Consulting (which is now Accenture) for a project in Bangkok. I loved Thailand and felt at home because of its many similarities to my own country. But one thing that was too familiar was the traffic. One time I was telling a fellow manager who was British that it took me an hour to get home by taxi in what should only take 15 minutes. "Have you tried the motorbike taxis?" he asked. When he saw that I didn't know what he was talking about, he explained that these were motorcycles for hire like taxis. They were lined up along some streets and their drivers usually wear bright colored sleeveless vests. "You just tell them where you want to go, and they will tell you how much they charge. And, if their price is acceptable, away you go."
Then he added, "But be careful and hang on tight. Some of them are crazy and drive very fast between vehicles even when the distances are narrow." "So what do I do?" I asked. Tell them cha-cha, which means 'slow down'," my friend replied.
So on my way home that night, I went out to one of the streets my friend mentioned and sure enough - there were motorbike taxis lined up. I went to the front of the line and asked the driver: "How much to Pantip Plaza?" This mall was close to the executive serviced apartments I stayed at. He replied: "Fifty baht." It was cheaper than what I usually pay for in a taxi so I nodded agreement, got on the back seat and as I was putting on the helmet, I remembered what my friend said about speed. I tapped the driver on the shoulder and said: "Cha-cha, okay?" And he replied, "Ah, cha-cha - One hundred baht!"
This is a great lesson not just for earning a witness but for achieving success in life.

A few years ago two of our American churches on the West Coast were holding a convention in Salt Lake City. The people came from California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada and represented the Congregational and Evangelical churches. The leader of that group wrote a letter to President McKay and asked if he would send one of the General Authorities to talk for two hours in the morning session of their convention to tell them the story of Mormonism, then to remain as their guest for lunch, and then to stay an hour and a half in the afternoon for questions. Well, I got the assignment, and I don’t mind telling you I was glad to get it. I always tell our missionaries you never need to argue with anybody—“If you learn how to tell our story, you tell them things they’ve never heard of, and prove them out of their own Bibles.” When I arrived at the meeting, I asked, “Now, do you want it just the way we believe it, how we got the church and what we believe?”
The man in charge said, “That’s just what we want.” Some of them had to get away on earlier planes, so they moved the luncheon back half an hour and gave me two hours and a half in that morning session. I just gave them chapter and verse and showed them what we received through the restoration of the gospel. You remember the words of Peter when he said the heavens were to receive the Christ until the restitution of all things spoken by the mouths of all the holy prophets since the world began (see Acts 3:20–21). A restitution is not a reformation, which is how all these other churches have come into existence. They have tried to correct the mistakes of history, but we have a restitution of all things. I showed what we got by the coming of the different holy prophets, as Peter said, and when I was through, I had only one question out of all those ministers and church leaders. You might be interested in that question. The man in charge said, “Now, Mr. Richards, you’ve told us that you believe that God is a personal god.”
I said, “That’s right.”
He said, “We’re heard it said that you believe that God has a wife. Would you explain that to us?”
I think he thought he had me in a corner and that I couldn’t do it. So rather facetiously I said, “Well, I don’t see how in the world he could have a Son without a wife, do you?” They all began to titter, and I didn’t have any more trouble with that question.

During my professional career, I helped the heirs of a noble couple settle their estate. The estate was not large, but it was the fruit of many years of hard work and sacrifice. Their children were all decent, God-fearing people who had been taught to live the saving principles of the Savior. But when it came to dividing up the property, a dispute developed about who should get what. Even though there was nothing of great value to fight about, feelings of selfishness and greed caused a rift among some of the family members that never healed and continued into the next generation. How tragic that the legacy offered by these wonderful parents turned out to be so destructive of family unity and love among their children. I learned from this that selfishness and greed bring bitterness and contention; on the other hand, sacrifice and giving bring peace and contentment.

In Denmark, far out in the country, there once lived a farmer and his wife. Their farm cottage was overgrown with moss, and a stork’s nest perched on its ridge. The walls were crooked, the windows were small, and only one of them could be opened. An oven for baking bread jutted out of one wall. Outside, a hedge of elderberries and willow trees surrounded a tiny pond where a duck and some ducklings swam, and in the yard there was an old dog that barked at everyone who went by.
They did without a lot of things, but they did have a horse that grazed along the edge of the road since they had no paddock for it. Sometimes the farmer rode his horse to town, and sometimes his neighbor borrowed it. This the farmer believed was to his advantage, for country people believed that one good turn deserves another. But one day the farmer thought he’d be doing himself a good turn if he traded the horse for something more useful, though he didn’t know what it could be.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said his wife. “There’s a market in town today. Why don’t you ride the horse to town and there you can trade it for something else. Whatever you do I’m sure will be all right.”
She tied his tie in a double bow to make her husband look more handsome. Then she brushed his hat with the palm of her hand, gave him a kiss good-bye, and off he rode on the horse that was to be sold or traded, just as he saw fit.
The sun was shining, it was hot, and there was not a scrap of shade along the way. The dusty road was filled with people traveling to market. Some had wagons, some rode horses, but many were on foot. And as he rode along, the farmer noticed a man leading a cow that was as beautiful as any cow could be.
“I’ll bet that cow gives a lot of good milk,” he said to himself. Then he called to the man, “You there with the cow, I’d like to talk with you!” And when the man turned around, the farmer continued, “I know that a horse is worth more than a cow, but a cow would be more useful to me. Shall we trade?”
“Why not?” said the man.
Now the farmer had done what he had set out to do so he should have turned around and gone back home with his new cow. But since he had meant to go to the market, he decided it would be a pity to miss it.
He and the cow walked quickly along, and soon they caught up with a man who was leading a goat. Such a fine animal it was. A goat like that I wouldn’t mind owning, the farmer thought. In the winter when it’s cold we could always take it inside. Besides, I don’t have enough grazing for a cow but I would for a goat. The more he looked at the goat, the better the farmer liked it.
“How would you like to trade your goat for my cow?” he finally asked. And the bargain was made.
He hadn’t gone far with his goat when he spied a man sitting on a big stone resting. He had good reason to rest for he was holding a very large goose.
“A fine fat goose!” the farmer cried as he lifted his hat. “How pretty it would look on our pond and then Mother could feed it our potato peelings.” She has often said that we ought to have a goose, he thought to himself, and now we shall have one! “I’ll trade you my goat for your goose and throw a thank-you into the bargain,” he said to the man.
“A goat for my goose!” exclaimed the stranger. “It’s a deal, but you can keep your thank-you for I don’t like to drive too hard a bargain.”
The farmer tucked the goose under his arm and walked on. People and animals were milling all about him as he came near the market.
The town’s gatekeeper had tied his hen in his potato patch so that it wouldn’t become frightened and run away in all the confusion. Its tail was as finely feathered as that of a cock. “Cluck! Cluck,” she said and winked at the farmer.
“That hen is a beautiful bird,” said the farmer, “I wish it were mine.” A hen can always find a grain of corn on the ground where she can scratch for her food, he thought to himself. Then she’ll lay eggs for us. I think I’ll see if I can strike a bargain for her.
It was no sooner said than done. After the farmer traded his goose for the gatekeeper’s white hen, he decided he was thirsty and hungry.
Entering an inn, the farmer bumped into one of the servants who was carrying a sack over his shoulder. “What do you have in the sack?” the farmer asked.
“Rotten apples,” the servant replied. “I’m on my way to the pigpen with them.”
A whole sackful, what an awful waste! thought the farmer. I wish Mother could see it. He remembered that last year their old apple tree only had one apple. Mother had put it in the cupboard and there it lay until it was all dried up and no bigger than a walnut. Then one day she had said to him, “I feel rich just looking at it.” He began to think how good she would feel if she had a whole sackful of apples so he asked the servant for them.
“What will you give me for them?” asked the servant.
“My hen,” the farmer replied. He hardly spoke the words before he found a sack of rotten apples in his arms instead of a hen.
The inn was crowded with butchers, farmers, merchants, horse dealers, and even a couple of rich Englishmen. The farmer sat down and, without giving it a thought, he put his sack of apples down on the stove and soon they began to simmer and sizzle.
“What’s that?” asked one of the rich Englishmen, pointing to the sack on the stove.
The farmer told him how he had traded his horse for a cow, his cow for a goat, his goat for a goose, his goose for a hen, and finally the hen for a sack of rotten apples.
“Your wife will be angry when you get home,” the Englishman scoffed.
“No,” the farmer insisted. “She’ll just kiss me and say that what Father does is always right.”
“I’ll bet a barrel of gold and a sackful of silver that she won’t,” said both Englishmen at once.
“The barrel of gold is enough and, if I lose, I’ll fill a barrel for you with rotten apples and you can have Mother and me for good measure,” the farmer declared.
So the Englishmen hired the innkeeper’s horses and carriage, and off they all went to the farmer’s house. When they arrived they drove right up to the door, where a barking dog and the farmer’s wife came out to greet them.
“Good evening, Mother,” said the farmer.
“I’m glad you arrived home safely,” she answered.
“Well, I traded the horse for a cow,” said the farmer.
“Trading is a man’s business,” she said and threw her arms around him. “Now we’ll have milk, butter, and cheese.”
“But I traded the cow for a goat.”
“How clever of you,” she said happily. “We have just enough grass for a goat, and the goat’s milk will be delicious for our supper. I can knit socks and a nightshirt from the goat’s wool. What a wise and thoughtful husband you are!”
“Then I traded the goat for a fat goose,” the farmer told her.
“Oh, my good husband, are we really going to have a fat goose in November for St. Martin’s Eve?” she asked. “You are always thinking of ways to please me.”
“I traded the goose for a hen,” the farmer said proudly, for now he realized how very well he had done.
“That was a good exchange,” said the wife. “Hens lay eggs and from eggs come little chicks. Soon we’ll have a real henyard and that is something I have always wanted.”
“But I traded the hen for a sackful of rotten apples.”
“Now I must kiss you, my dear husband!” his wife said, “for while you were away I decided to make a fine supper. I wanted to make an omelet with chives, but I had no chives. Our neighbor has some but she wouldn’t loan any to me. She declared that I could never return even so much as a rotten apple, because nothing grew in our garden. Now I can trade her many rotten apples. You have made the best bargain of all.”
The Englishmen held their sides with laughter. “From bad to worse and they don’t even know it. Always happy, always contented. It’s worth the money to see such people,” they said and gave the barrelful of gold coins to the farmer.
Yes, it pays for a wife to admit that her husband is clever. And now you know that “what father does is always right!”

I learned the gospel from the full-time missionaries and was baptized at age 17 in 1972. Three years later, as an organist, I was at the Budokan arena in Tokyo when President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) announced the construction of the Tokyo Japan Temple.

After the temple was dedicated in 1980, I commuted from Sendai to the temple every month. I would leave work Friday evenings to attend the temple the next day. My desire to attend the temple grew stronger, so I moved to Tokyo in 1981.

An example of changing one’s opinion of himself comes from a bishop I know. He used to wonder about a portion of his patriarchal blessing which states that he “will be a leader of men and will be called to many positions of leadership in the Church.” He just knew he wasn’t the leader type. But eventually he was called to serve as a counselor in the elders quorum presidency, and later as its president. He gained knowledge and experience and he continued to serve, first as president of two more elders quorums, then as a high councilor, and now as a bishop. “It’s strange how long it took me to learn that the Lord knows me better than I know myself,” he comments. “I still don’t desire leadership positions, but I know if they come, the Lord will provide the necessary help if I do all I can.”

Before our conversion to the gospel, my parents moved to the city in search of better opportunities for us. In Guatemala, in those years, children did not have a guaranteed space in school. At the beginning of every school year, my mom would get up at around 3:00 a.m. to register us at the only elementary school in La Florida. From my mother’s example, I knew early in life that education was important, and I wanted to become a teacher someday. In the middle of our material limitations, I was able to finish high school with a vocational certificate to teach elementary school.

I wanted to get a college education, but I did not have the forty-five dollars needed in those days to register for college. My older sister was living in Illinois when I graduated from high school, and she sent me sixty dollars to buy my graduation ring. I used the money to pay for my college registration at La Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala in the College of Chemical Engineering. I had very little resources but many dreams I wanted to accomplish. Remembering the words my father had taught me to “be strong and of a good courage,” I walked for the first time onto a university campus, scared and confused but full of hope.

When I was 23, I was sealed in the temple to the man of my dreams. I cannot remember a happier day in my entire life.

But everything I always expected for my life started to fall apart with dizzying speed. My husband grew increasingly physically and emotionally abusive toward me.

I felt confusion and pain. I didn’t understand why my faithfulness didn’t seem to make a difference in my marriage. I had served a full-time mission, kept my covenants, followed the commandments, and even served as a temple worker. But no matter how much I tried to grow closer to Jesus Christ, my marriage only became more difficult.

Looking back, I realized that even though I’d prayerfully considered if I should marry my husband and had faith that we could work through problems, I had ignored signs of potential problems that later arose in our marriage.

After five years of loneliness and abuse, my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ was suffering. My expectations for my life were derailed and unmet.

I felt broken.

When it became clear that my husband was unwilling to change, I began asking God to deliver me from my situation or to show me the right path to take. But when the answers I needed were not coming, I began to blame Heavenly Father as the cause of my pain.

I continued to attend church and keep my covenants, but my heart was full of resentment at the lack of direction.

Then one day I realized that I did have the answer to my situation—I had to use my agency to act and change my circumstances. And I knew what decision would be best for me with my end goal of returning to Heavenly Father.

I finally decided to take a step forward: I talked to my husband, and miraculously, we ended our relationship in harmony.

This difficult experience helped me learn about the power and vital importance of our God-given gift of agency.

I realized that Heavenly Father won’t interfere with anyone’s agency—He let me make my own decision in marrying my husband. He also wouldn’t force my husband to change, even though I was holding to my covenants, because an eternal marriage takes spiritual and temporal effort from both people as they follow Jesus Christ.

At first I expected to heal and move on quickly from my abusive marriage, but the process has been slow and difficult. Through therapeutic tools, listening to the prophets’ messages, reading scriptures, praying, and feeling love and support from friends and family, I feel hope for a better future. As I use my agency to find healing, I look forward to a life that involves forgiveness and beautiful relationships with others, including the Savior.

With increased understanding of how to use agency in my life, my bitterness toward God turned to understanding, and my relationship with Him was able to heal.

Ending my marriage was one of the most painful experiences I have ever faced. But I’ve learned that when faced with unexpected trials in life, we can seek spiritual guidance and make decisions that move us forward on the covenant path. By following Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, we can always have hope in good things to come and in Their promised blessings of peace and joy.

I remember the occasion of more than 50 years ago when, as a missionary, I was speaking in an open-air meeting in Hyde Park, London. As I was presenting my message, a heckler interrupted to say, “Why don’t you stay with the doctrine of the Bible which says in John [4:24], ‘God is a Spirit’?”
I opened my Bible to the verse he had quoted and read to him the entire verse: “God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”
I said, “Of course God is a spirit, and so are you, in the combination of spirit and body that makes of you a living being, and so am I.”
Each of us is a dual being of spiritual entity and physical entity. All know of the reality of death when the body dies, and each of us also knows that the spirit lives on as an individual entity and that at some time, under the divine plan made possible by the sacrifice of the Son of God, there will be a reunion of spirit and body. Jesus’ declaration that God is a spirit no more denies that he has a body than does the statement that I am a spirit while also having a body.

Neither of my parents or any of my siblings are members of the Church, so a year after my dad, Gerald Prior, passed away, the time came to do his temple work.
It was decided to do the work at the Preston England Temple. Upon our arrival on a Friday afternoon, I booked an appointment with the temple registrar and explained that I wanted to try to complete all the ordinances for my dad the next day. He informed me that the only way that it would be possible was if the baptism work was done that evening. There was a youth temple trip scheduled, and if I came back to the temple at 7:00 pm, I could join them and get the work done for my dad.
I returned to the temple at 7:00 pm and waited. Around 7:30 pm, the registrar informed me that the stake youth had cancelled their appointment, assuring me, “Don’t worry; we will get something sorted.” True to his word, 15 minutes later, he returned and invited my wife, Tracey, and me to the baptistry.
There, we met with about 10 temple workers who had already finished for the day. Upon hearing of my predicament, they generously sacrificed their time to assist. They asked whether I would be happy to be involved in doing the work for other people as well as my dad. I was more than happy to oblige, and it also gave me the opportunity to baptise Tracey, which I had never done before.
A great couple of hours were had in the Preston temple that evening. The following day I carried on doing the necessary ordinances for my dad, and several times met with the temple workers that I had met the evening before. They enquired how the work was progressing, and it was touching to see their support and encouragement for the work for my dad.
At the end of the day, I was able to participate in the sealing of my mum and dad. My daughter, Lauren, and her husband, Gabe, joined us and with their help, I was able to be sealed to my parents. Officiating were the very workers from the previous evening.
It was truly a wonderful experience, and one that will never be forgotten by Tracey and myself. I will always be grateful to those temple workers who selflessly sacrificed their own time to help me and my father.

Let me tell you an experience from my own life and how my brother’s patterns of righteousness and example resulted in our family being blessed eternally.
My brother and I were “born of goodly parents” (1 Nephi 1:1), who loved and made great sacrifices for the two of us, but our family had not been blessed with the sacred ordinances of the temple.
Many years ago on a day in late December, we received a letter from my brother, who was serving in the California North Mission. The outside of the envelope cautioned, “Do not open until you are all together!!”
As my father, mother, and I gathered to open his seven-page typewritten letter, we read his testimony of prayer. He taught us the doctrine of eternal families from the scriptures. We read his experiences of how fasting and prayer helped his investigators prepare to receive the ordinance of baptism. He assured us that our family too could be blessed through fasting and prayer. Then came his challenge: “The bishop of the Stanford Ward spoke on a topic a couple of months ago which really hit home. … The bishop’s talk made me stop and realize the goals I want to accomplish in life. Uppermost in my mind is the goal I want to achieve with my own family … that, of course, being sealed to you, Mom and Dad, for time and all eternity in the house of the Lord. I love you very much and want our family to be together in the eternities.”
Then his closing words: “May the Lord guide you in this important decision and may you pray together as a family is my prayer.”
As a teenager, I too had prayed for this blessing to come to my family. This letter now brought hope for my righteous desire.
The new year was an opportunity for our family to make some changes. In the many months that followed, we established family patterns of righteousness. We prayed together, studied about the ordinances of the temple, paid tithing, and attended our meetings regularly—as a family. Shortly after my brother returned from his mission, we were prepared to receive the ordinances of the temple. I knew the Lord had heard and answered our prayers as we surrounded the holy altar in the temple and were sealed as a family for time and all eternity.
Can you make a difference in your family? Yes, you can! I often wonder about my family’s eternal progression if my brother had not written that powerful letter. His patterns of righteousness and example changed our lives.

Leury belongs to a priests quorum of one, so he carries a lot of responsibility. “I have been visiting a lot of people who can’t go to church and taking them the sacrament on Sundays. I also go home teaching,” says Leury.
“Having Leury active in the priests quorum tremendously blesses my life,” says Bienvenida. “He loves the Church and is very spiritual. I want to be an example for him, but he ends up being an example to me in many ways.”

I started my journey 54 years ago in the Islands of Samoa. I was raised in Lona Fagaloa where I was taught and prepared with the necessary life skills. From a very young age, I learned to tend the crops in the plantation and to care for the pigs and chickens. In those days, Fagaloa was a small coastal community, cut off from the rest of Samoa, and our life was extremely rural. My chores, or “fe’au,” were tough for a little girl, but that was the life we knew. Little did I know the Lord was preparing me for the rest of my life; to learn how to work hard and face tough challenges.

I was raised in a Catholic family by parents who made sure I attended Sunday School and Mass each week. When I was a little older, my grandmother, Serafina, took me to visit the local convent every month. She wanted me to be a nun. As you can see, that didn’t quite work out, because the Lord had different plans for me. My younger years were spent with a father who was an alcoholic and was not very kind when he was drunk. Life in our family was a bit chaotic and, while I was still a young girl, my parents separated leaving me to move from relative to relative. My older siblings were old enough to fend for themselves, and my younger siblings went to live with our grandparents in American Samoa.

Despite the difficulties, it is clear to me today that the Lord was guiding my path. As most blessings come after a trial, mine came because of this rough period in my childhood. The Lord guided me to a family, my new family, the William Faasefulu Tenney family, who took me in, called me their daughter, and introduced me to the gospel. The missionaries taught me, in their home, about our Heavenly Father and the Savior Jesus Christ. Although I had learned in the Catholic Church about the Trinity; God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost, these teachings were very new to me. Jesus and God were not the same being? God has a body of flesh and bone? Despite it being different than everything I had learned before, it felt like I already knew it and it made sense to me. When I was old enough to be baptized, without my parents’ consent, I didn’t hesitate. Those in my family who knew what I had done, disowned me, and I kept the news from my grandmother for fear of reprisal. However, the Lord prepared the way there, as well, and my decision was eventually accepted by my family. To illustrate how great are the blessings of the Lord, as of today many of my siblings have also joined the Church and found the joy of the Gospel. Who would have known that from a broken family, and an unstable childhood, the Lord would guide the path of a young girl to His Gospel? Well, the Lord knew!

Ana chewed her last bite of tortilla. It was soft and yummy. Ana loved her grandmother’s tortillas. They were the best part of breakfast.
Ana watched her grandmother, Abuela, wash the dishes.
It was like any other morning. But one thing was not the same.
Abuela usually walked to the market to buy food. But not today. Today there was no money to buy food.
“What will we eat tomorrow?” Ana wondered.
Then Ana remembered. She knew where some money was! Last night she saw Abuela put a few pesos in a little white cloth.
“Abuela, did you forget? You have money to buy food.”
“What money?” Abuela asked.
Ana ran to get the money. She shook the little bag of coins. Clink! Clink!
Abuela smiled. “That is our tithing, Ana. That is His money.”
“But what will we eat tomorrow?” Ana asked.
“Do not worry,” Abuela said. “I have faith that Heavenly Father will help us.”
The next morning Abuela gave Ana the last corn tortilla. Then she sat down in her chair. She stitched red flowers onto a dress and told stories about when she was a little girl. She did not look worried.
Then Ana heard a knock. She ran to open the door.
“Uncle Pedro!”
“I had a feeling I should visit you two,” Uncle Pedro said. He put three sacks on the table. One had corn flour for tortillas. Another had meat. Another had fresh vegetables from the market.
“Oh, my sweet son,” Abuela said. “I’m going to make you my best meatball soup!”
“Your soup is the best in the world,” Uncle Pedro said.
Ana laughed and clapped her hands.
Then she stopped. There was one thing she wanted to know. “Abuela, did you know Uncle Pedro would come today? Is that why you weren’t worried?”
“No,” Abuela said. “When I pay my tithing, I have faith that Heavenly Father will bless me. And He did!”
Ana hugged Abuela. She felt like the happiest girl in Mexico. She and Abuela had faith in Heavenly Father. Now she couldn’t wait to eat Abuela’s yummy soup!

Live theater was my passion! As a young adult, I threw myself into acting and singing on the stage. I was blessed with talent and hoped to establish a career performing professionally. I won the most challenging roles I could get and always behaved professionally in order to win the respect of my fellow thespians.
I was thrilled when the most influential director in our area told me that he would be holding auditions for an operetta and that he wanted me to try out. The show would be performed in our area’s most prestigious venue, and it seemed that my director friend already had me in mind for the leading role.
The script was unavailable for perusal before the audition, but the operetta was based on a novel by an 18th-century philosopher, which I read. I also became familiar with the show’s music, which was exceptionally beautiful and challenging.
The audition went well, and I was soon informed that the leading role—the most important part—was mine! I believed that this role was a huge opportunity.
I walked on clouds of excitement—until the script arrived. As I read it, my elation rapidly floated away. While the novel and the music were worthy, the script was irreverent and contained suggestive and inappropriate stage directions. I knew that I shouldn’t be involved in this production. It was a terrible disappointment.
Suddenly I had a dilemma. Theater etiquette dictates that after accepting a role, an actor does not quit because the production schedule does not allow time for changes in cast. Backing out now would be considered very unprofessional. I feared losing the trust of the theater company, offending the director, and even losing the opportunity to continue performing elsewhere.
Of course, I was tempted to rationalize! A voice strutted across my mind, proclaiming, “You can’t quit now. The script isn’t so bad. The good in the show will make up for the naughty parts.” But the Holy Spirit was always in the wings of my heart—firmly, patiently, unwaveringly cuing me that I needed to exit the operetta.
I knew what I had to do. Trembling, I picked up the phone and dialed the director.
“Hello, sir,” I said when he answered. “This is Annie.”
“Annie! I’m so excited about the show. Did you get the script?”
“Yes, I did, and I … I …”
I burst into tears. Talk about unprofessional!
Somehow, between sobs, I managed to explain to the director why I could not be in his show. And then I waited for the world to end.
The dear man laughed. He respected my choice. At first he tried to talk me into staying with the show, but he relented. He said he would still adore me even if I didn’t want to be in his operetta. And he simply asked me to bring the script to him right away so that he could give it to somebody else. I hung up the phone, mortified at my weeping but grateful for the director’s affectionate, understanding response.
I wiped away my tears and then grabbed the script and jumped into my car. As the engine started, the radio also came to life. It was preset to the local classical music station, and to my amazement, the tune playing was the overture of the very same operetta. I had never ever heard it played on the radio before.
I felt like Heavenly Father was playing this music for me. He wanted me to understand that He loved me and that He approved of my choice. The music coming over the airwaves was one of God’s tender mercies. Through it I felt the comfort of His love.

Let me tell of another person I met in Guatemala. He is John O’Donnal, the president of the Guatemala City Temple. He stood before a congregation and with a voice choked with emotion told his story.
As a young man he was graduated from the University of Arizona with a degree in agricultural science. He was employed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and was sent to Guatemala to work on a project to develop the growth of natural rubber trees to meet a critical need during World War II.
As I remember his words, he said: “I was twenty-four years of age and unmarried when I came to Guatemala forty-three years ago. I had been raised with a love for the Savior and His teachings. During my work here, I walked day after day through these mountains and jungles among the native peoples of this land. I came to know them and to love them, and as I saw the poverty and darkness in which they lived, I wept for them. They were the purest people I had ever known, but they were without the light of the gospel. I cried to the Lord concerning them. I knew that their one sure hope lay in obtaining a knowledge of and a love for Jesus Christ, and in receiving the record of their forebears, which testifies of Him.
“In time I fell in love with a beautiful girl who had English and German blood and also the blood of Lehi, Laman, and Samuel. We were married and spent our honeymoon in a little house in the mountains among the native people. I told her that some day these people must hear the gospel and that they would rise in strength and beauty.
“In 1946 and again in 1947 I traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah, and pleaded with the President of the Church to send missionaries. Finally, in December 1947, the mission president and his counselors brought four elders to our house. The next day we drove onto a mountain where together we had the sacrament, and the mission president dedicated the land for the preaching of the restored gospel.
“My wife was the first native of Guatemala baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Today she stands at my side as the matron of this beautiful temple.”
He continued: “In 1956 I was in a serious accident and was taken to the hospital for major surgery. I almost lost my life, and in those circumstances I had a remarkable experience. The Lord showed me that a temple would be built in this land.
“Also, I was informed by a power beyond the power of man that I would not die but that my life would not be my own.”
His life has not been his own. As a scientist and administrator, he established and operated a large rubber plantation and built and operated a tire factory for one of the great rubber companies in the United States. But he did still yet a far more significant thing. In the spirit of the Master, he went about doing good. He worked sharing the gospel among the native peoples of Guatemala. For more than forty years he has lived with them, has spoken their language, has sorrowed with them in their sorrows, has taught them the everlasting gospel, and has been a quiet, unassuming, but magnificent pioneer in the development of the work of the Lord in that land.
When he walked the jungle trails alone, he was the only member of the Church in all that land. Today there are more than forty-four thousand of them. He nurtured the first little branch. Today there are eight stakes of Zion in Guatemala and many more in the surrounding nations of Central America. Once, a few members met in his home. Now beautiful chapels of the Church are seen throughout the land. On a hill above Guatemala City is a magnificent temple, atop whose tallest steeple is the figure of Moroni.

Maybe this is more of what he had in mind. An acquaintance of mine became seriously ill not long ago. I hurried up to the Veterans Hospital in Salt Lake City to see if I could attend to some of his needs. He’s got some problems. He’s not the most active soul in the world, and you can kind of get the picture. There’s one around you somewhere.

He was surprised when I walked into the room. “Well, how did you know I was here?”

“Oh, the Lord has ways of sharing this kind of information.”

He had a blood condition that had caused his body great distress. It was very serious because of his age. He had tremendous pain in his ankles. He was eating dinner at the time I entered the hospital, so I sat on the edge of his bed and said, “Would it help if I massaged your legs for a minute?” So I massaged him. And I said, “Can I ask you a personal question? Did this sudden illness scare you a little? Does the bishop know you’re up here? Would you be offended if I told him? Would you like a special blessing?” He nodded yes. “Do you have faith?”

“No,” he responded.

“Do you have faith in me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what faith is?”

“No.”

So I sat on the bed and taught him.

You know, I find that most people don’t know these things because they haven’t been taught; they don’t understand. I gave him a little 2 1/2-minute talk on faith. The first principles of the gospel are what? Faith, repentance, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. Now, if you back up and look at faith, it says what? In the Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes we leave that out. So I taught him the principles. He hadn’t ever heard that before, and he was 62 and had been born and raised in the Church.

I had noticed, of course, when I first went in that there were four other men in the room. It was a ward shared by several men without any privacy. I noticed while I was teaching (although I didn’t make it a pronounced sermon as such; it was just between the two of us) that others were straining to hear. So as I stood up in preparation for going around to place my hands upon my friend’s head, I turned, as the Spirit prompted me to do so, and I said to the other men lying in their beds, “Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” They all sat up in bed. I said, “Perhaps you have noticed I am here to visit my friend, who is ill like you. I’m his home teacher. We’re members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—Mormons. I haven’t had a chance to get acquainted with you; I don’t know what your particular faith is, but we believe in assisting each other spiritually. I am here to attempt to do that tonight. I’m going to give this man a special blessing.” Then I taught briefly just what that was. I said, “I wouldn’t expect you to endorse it or reject it particularly, but would you mind being reverent for a moment as I perform this ordinance for my friend?” And they all just sat there. So I placed my hands upon his head, and blessed him. The Spirit touched both of us, and the tears came without shame from a man who, I guess, hadn’t been in church in 22 years. When I got all through, we embraced each other, and I said, “Now, can I ask you a personal question? Did I offend you?”

“Oh no, Brother Dunn,” he said, “this is one of the most sacred moments in my life. Thank you.” Then I turned to go out, and four other men wanted blessings, two of whom weren’t even members of the Church. Now, Latter-day Saints, you don’t have to be embarrassed at who you are or what you are. There’s a teaching moment awaiting every one of us as we share this most priceless gift which is ours. I pray God that we might catch something of that great vision and the importance of it.

Several years ago while visiting a dear friend, I saw that he looked unusually discouraged. He is a school teacher, and his wife does not work outside the home. With nine children, they have had rather limited financial resources.
I asked him how he was. He hesitated, not wanting to talk about his troubles. But finally, with tears in his eyes, he told me his worries about his family. One of his sons had dropped out of high school and had moved out of their home; he now spent his time drinking, chewing tobacco, and partying with his friends. My friend’s eighteen-year-old daughter had transgressed and planned to marry outside the temple. His sixteen-year-old son had a serious drug and alcohol problem. My friend’s oldest son was on a mission, but the costs of the sixteen-year-old’s drug treatment were jeopardizing missionary funds and the family’s financial stability.
My friend told me he felt guilty and unworthy. Because of all the strain on the family, he and his wife were blaming each other for their children’s problems, and their marriage was under a great deal of stress. It was obvious that he was struggling, wondering why all these things were happening to his family when he had tried to live the gospel.
Like Lehi, my friend also came to the end of his own personal “wilderness.” His children have returned to the faith of their parents and are trying to pattern their lives after Christ’s. The struggle wasn’t easy, but they have all endured it well.