Gospel Story Finder

When Nora woke up to the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on the rocky road, her ear was aching. At first she tried to keep her mind off the pain by watching for falling stars. But the ache worsened, and Nora twisted and turned under the heavy quilts, forgetting the stars.
“Hold still, Nora! You’re kicking me,” muttered her brother, Emery. “Scoot over. You’re taking all the room.” Nora moved closer to her side of the wagon. It had been fun to spend a week with her cousins in Panguitch. But tonight, with her ear throbbing, Nora wished that she were home in Enterprise.
Trying to protect her ear from the cold air, Nora pulled the covers over her head. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t hold still.
“Your knee’s in my back, Nora,” Emery said, yanking at the covers. “What’s the matter?”
“I have an earache,” said Nora, holding her hand over her ear. “It’s been hurting for a long time. How soon will we be home?”
“Not for hours,” Emery said, sitting up and looking around. “We’re just now to the big stand of cottonwoods. Do you want me to call Papa?”
“No,” said Nora, trying not to cry. “If we stop, it’ll just take longer to get home. If only the wagon didn’t jolt so!”
Emery lay back down. Nora’s whole body stiffened in an effort to be still. The horses plodded on. The wagon jostled and bumped along. With every joggle, the pain got worse. It seemed to Nora that they had been traveling forever. Not wanting to wake Emery again, she gritted her teeth until finally the tears came.
Burying her head deeper under the covers to muffle the sound, Nora clenched her fists, and tried to cry quietly. She managed for a time. Then the wagon started up a rough hill. The wagon bobbled and shook until Nora thought her head would explode. She could no longer control the sobs.
Alarmed, Emery sat up. “Papa! Mama! You’d better see about Nora. She’s in a bad way.”
Papa stopped the horses. He climbed down from the wagon seat. With Mama following, he came around to where Nora was huddled against the side of the wagon.
“Land sakes!” Mama said. “She’s burning up with fever.”
Papa lifted Nora from the wagon. “There, little girl,” he said holding her head against his shoulder. “What’s the trouble?”
“Oh, Papa,” cried Nora, “I’ve had an earache for the longest time! The jolting wagon hurts it so.”
“There, now.” Papa patted her heaving shoulders. “You’ll be all right. We’ll give you a blessing and ask Heavenly Father to make you well. Mama, you hold her while I get the consecrated oil.”
Mama took Nora and sat on a big boulder surrounded by chaparral and sagebrush barely visible in the dim moonlight. Papa found the oil and put a drop on Nora’s head.
Nora was sobbing so hard that she didn’t hear the words of the blessing until Papa got to “in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Papa lifted her from Mama’s lap. She rested her head against his chest. He put his big, gentle hand over her ear and rubbed it ever so tenderly. Nora felt the pain go out of her head and ear.
“There, child, You’ll be all right,” Papa said.
Nora relaxed, exhausted from pain. Her tired eyes closed. Papa put her back into her warm place in the wagon. Mama rearranged the heavy quilts around her. It felt so good to have the hurt all gone.
The wagon seat squeaked as Mama and Papa settled onto it. Nora felt the wagon lurch, and heard the clop of hooves scattering loose rocks. Her mind felt fuzzy with sleepiness. The next thing she knew, Papa was lifting her into her own bed.

When President Nelson invited the women of the Church in October 2018 general conference to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year, Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac, along with their father and younger brothers, decided to offer Mom their support. “We’ll read it with you!” they said. Every morning before seminary, they woke up to read together.
Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac are amazed that their family finished the Book of Mormon in just two months. “It usually takes us a year,” Isaac says. Together, they discovered the blessings of following the prophet’s invitation.
“If you do what you’re supposed to do,” Andrew says, “like building a relationship with Heavenly Father through prayer, scripture study, and staying fully active in the Church, life is so much better.”

Growing up, I didn’t believe there was a God. My life was full of turmoil, and in my darkest days I was depressed enough that I wanted to end my life. That was when the missionaries came knocking on my door. The gospel was exactly what I needed; I was drawn to it like a magnet.
My trials didn’t end after I joined the Church, but I was in a better position to resist the influence of the adversary. For the first time, I knew what happiness felt like.
However, depression didn’t loosen its grip easily. At one point I wanted to give up again. At that moment Sister Ting, the bishop’s wife, called. She told me she had a feeling she needed to call me. She asked how I was doing. I bore my soul to her. To me, she was an angel sent by God.
That incident empowered me. My faith was strengthened. I felt like I could conquer death. I felt delivered, like it says in Alma 36:2–3:
“They were in bondage, and none could deliver them except … God … .
“… Whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day.”
I still have trials, but I will not be easily beaten again. God has supported me through all my trials and worries. He has saved me from spiritual prison and bondage, even death. He is my Savior.

When their fathers said the pond was frozen solid enough to skate on, the boys began clearing the snow to make a skating rink. On Saturday, they’d be able to play hockey.
By the time Jeremy arrived after his paper route, he expected to see the boys racing up the ice, maneuvering the puck, aiming at the net. But they were just standing around.
“Sorry I’m late,” Jeremy said, skating up to them.
“There’s a problem,” Bill said, “and your brother is part of it! I told those squirts to beat it, but they’re still here!’
Jeremy looked at his little brother, Ryan, and his friends. They were standing on the ice, looking scared. “What’s the problem?” Jeremy asked.
“They think they’re going to skate on the part we cleaned off!” Bill declared angrily.
Jeremy knew that getting mad wouldn’t solve anything. He tried to keep his voice calm as he said, “The pond’s big enough for all of us. We’re only practicing. We don’t have a a real arena. They can stay out of our way.”
“No way!” Bill snapped. “We cleaned it off, we use it!” He yelled at the younger boys again, ordering them to leave.
Jeremy could see a confrontation coming. He had seen Bill in action in the schoolyard too often. Most of the time even the older boys backed off, but pushing smaller boys around was too much.
The younger children shuffled around uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. “Skate up and down the edge, boys, and stay away from us, OK?” Jeremy suggested.
“No, they won’t!” Bill took a menacing step toward them, but Jeremy hurried between.
He tried to speak quietly. “I came here to skate, not fight. But if my brother and his friends have to go, then I’m going too.”
He whirled away to the bank, and his friends followed. “Way to go, Jeremy. Let Bill skate by himself,” they all agreed.
Ryan looked upset. “No, we’ll go. We’re just playing. You guys are practicing.”
“That’s not the point,” Jeremy said. “Bill can’t always push people around. Let’s leave him to cool off by himself.”
As they left, Jeremy had an idea. “Say, why don’t we clean off that corner of the pond? The younger boys can have a small rink of their own.” The others agreed and raced home for brooms and shovels. Soon the snow was cleared off the ice.
“How about a hockey school?” Jeremy asked. “We’ll teach you to shoot.”
“That would be great, but we don’t have sticks and pads,” Ryan said.
“That’s OK,” an older boy said. “There are some old sticks in our basement. We could shorten them.”
“My dad says they used to wrap magazines around their legs with rubber bands to make pads,” another said.
“Right! Let’s go, guys!”
After lunch they met at the pond. They fitted the young boys with makeshift pads, hand-me-down gloves, and cut-off sticks. Everybody laughed at the getups.
The younger boys soon learned how to change direction quickly on their skates and use their sticks to keep possession of the puck. Every once in a while, Jeremy glanced back at Bill skating aimlessly on the ice, watching the fun. Then, as Jeremy watched the boys skate, he heard a voice from behind.
“I was a jerk this morning.” Bill stood there, looking embarrassed. “I mean—I’m trying to say I’m sorry, guys. OK with you if I help too?”
The group gave each other questioning looks, then one by one they nodded their approval.
“You have to mean you’re sorry,” Jeremy said. “End of bullying. Period.”
“You’ve got it!” Bill declared. He skated back across the ice, then returned carrying a load of assorted hockey equipment. “I dug around in our attic while you guys were away, and found this stuff. You’re welcome to it.”
Pulling on proper pads and gloves, the small boys lost their fear of Bill and followed his coaching tips until the sun began to sink and the air grew chilly. But the unexpected friendship between the different age groups was warm enough to melt the ice under their skates.
As they parted, Jeremy called out, “Look out, National Hockey League—here’s your future competition!”
“I wish winter would last forever!” Ryan remarked as they said good-bye, and a chorus of voices chimed in, “Right on!”

I was with President Tanner in the city of Cardston a few weeks ago and noted a clean city; and I mentioned it time and time again as we drove through the streets, a clean city. I noticed no backyards filled with trash and other waste, and I could not help but mention to him again, “Look at the row there, this whole row of homes, and as far as you see there are gardens, corn and beans and squash.” There were little fruit trees in between, and nearly every yard, as far as we could see, every backyard was cultivated; and I am sure the good people there were living considerably out of their yard, rather than out of the store. I was pleased indeed to see that there are many of our people who have not forgotten the lessons of yesterday, and are still listening to the words of the leaders.

The class was dismissed. Boys and girls gathered their books with their usual youthful chatter. They left the seminary building singly or in groups, their eyes and interest focused on their next activity.
Alone now, I slumped rather wearily into my chair at the front of the classroom, perhaps a bit discouraged and certainly distraught. Today had been especially trying. I had played center stage in a recurring scene with Dennis.
He had challenged nearly everything I had said about the gospel. He had resurrected for reexamination some questions I thought we had put to rest in previous discussions. Several times he had skillfully forced me into a position where I had to take a stand. I had once again borne testimony to the truth of the eternal principles I was teaching and had added my own personal witness.
Now, sitting at my desk, I began to wonder if on some things I had been too firm, too dogmatic. Certainly, I had taught the Church position supported by scripture, by the Brethren, and by my own personal experience. But had I been so firm that youth could not accept? Would I lose boys like Dennis or girls like Alice who sometimes took his part?
I was prayerfully pondering this question as I began straightening my desk at the front of the classroom. John, one of the students, stopped by to collect some books he had left behind.
“How ya’ doin’,” he said.
“Fine John. How are things with you?”
“Great! I enjoyed your class last period, even if Dennis did lead us away from the lesson for a while.”
John was a little cautious as he framed his next question. “Does it bother you when he challenges what you say and takes the negative side?”
I quietly admitted that it did but that my real concern was my apparent inability to reach Dennis and convert him to a more positive attitude of faith in the Lord’s teachings.
John smiled. “I thought you felt that way,” he said. “Let me tell you something about him.”
“Dennis has many friends who are not members of the Church. He seems negative here in class, but when he gets over to high school, he becomes you! The arguments he gives in class are the arguments he gets from his friends. The answers you give him are the answers he gives back to them. He’s just storing up ammunition.”
John picked up his books and smiled a good-bye. I sat down again at my desk, smiling. Suddenly everything fell into place. When Dennis asked questions in the future, I would understand. I would be glad to help him find answers.
Then a fear swept over me. What if I had faltered? What if I had compromised? I would not have won Dennis over—I would have betrayed him and I would have betrayed the sacred trust of being his teacher.
It was the Apostle Paul who said, ““If the Trumpet Give an Uncertain Sound”, who shall prepare himself for battle?” (1 Cor. 14:28.) We don’t blast the trumpet in someone else’s ear, but neither do we indiscreetly sound its message; rather, the call should be sweet and sure and certain of sound.

Janet Egbo of Big Qua Town Ward, Calabar Nigeria Stake
I am a teacher by profession, I reside and work in Calabar. I have always wanted additional income because what I earned was not sufficient to support my family. I was part of the self-reliance group in my stake and I joined the Starting and Growing My Business group.
I learned a lot of principles throughout the Starting and Growing My Business group meetings, which motivated me to start a business of my own. I never knew that I could start small and grow big.
The principles I learned that gave me the guide I needed to succeed were: payment of tithing, praying, savings, budgeting, and record keeping. I was able to start with two bags of flour and a bag of sugar. Today I have rented a shop for the business.
I have a variety of commodities on my shelves, and my shop is a mini supermarket because I have most of the items that households may need.
I am indeed grateful that I heeded the call to join a self-reliance group. I now have the additional income I needed.
I am now growing my business. I keep record of my sales, use a budget, and I can save money.
I now pay my tithing and fast offering, take care of my basic needs, and that of my family members.

I know of one family who took their children to a welfare farm in the Salt Lake valley. The three, ten, and eleven-year-old children were given the opportunity of pulling weeds in a sugar beet field with their father. As the work became harder, the ten-year-old girl suddenly stopped, turned to her father, and asked, “Why are we doing this, Dad?”
He explained that all the work they were doing was helping the sugar beets grow. After the beets were grown, harvested, and processed, the sugar would be taken to the Bishops Central Storehouse. The processed sugar, along with all the other different kinds of food from welfare farms throughout the Church, would be put into bishops storehouses for those members of the Church who don’t have enough money to buy the food they need.
The Welfare Services program, however, involves more than this. It means learning and planning how to help ourselves and our families in many areas.
More than a hundred years ago President Brigham Young counseled mothers and fathers in the Church this way:
“If the little girls want dolls, shall they have them? Yes. But must they be taken to the dressmaker’s to be dressed? No. Let the girls learn to cut and sew the clothing for their dolls, and in a few years they will know how to make a dress for themselves and others. Let the little boys have tools, and let them make their sleds, little wagons, etc., and when they grow up, they are acquainted with the use of tools and can build a carriage, a house, or anything else.” (Discourses of Brigham Young, p. 210.)
Young friends, it is necessary now as it was then that girls and boys learn how to make things. The time to learn the skills needed when we grow older is while we are young. You girls and boys should learn today how to cook and sew and build. You can have fun while you learn and at the same time help your families.
Our prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball, has suggested other ways in which we can help ourselves and others. He has asked every family in the Church to store a year’s supply of food and clothing. He has also asked every family to raise a garden.
One family in Virginia with eight small children had a large garden where each child had his own row of plants to tend. While he learned how to take care of his part of the garden, the whole family was helped.
Two boys in another family were given the responsibility of keeping a list of all the food the family had stored. They were also given the important job of checking their food supply and letting their parents know when any items needed replacing.
Whether you take care of a garden, keep a record of foods stored, sew clothes, cook, build, or contribute any other useful skill, the more things you know and do, the more you can help your family. How exciting it is to grow and to learn skills that will help you be good mothers and fathers someday!
These are just a few ways in which young people can be a part of the Church’s Welfare Services program. As you learn and help your families and serve your neighbors and friends, you will find great happiness, and our Heavenly Father will bless you for your faithfulness. In the Doctrine and Covenants, we read:
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, ye are little children, and ye have not as yet understood how great blessings the Father hath in his own hands and prepared for you; … nevertheless … The kingdom is yours and the blessings thereof are yours, and the riches of eternity are yours … Wherefore, do the things which I have commanded you …” (D&C 78:17–18, 20.)

At the beginning of 2007, my husband and I were called to produce a cultural celebration for the rededication of the temple. The event was to be held on November 3, a day before the rededication sessions.
Our aim was to involve as many youth as possible from the stakes in Tongatapu and to come up with a presentation that would spiritually prepare the Saints for the temple dedication the next day. The event would be broadcast and televised live to the outer islands as well as to Tongan stakes around the globe, so this was a mighty task.
During the week of the rededication, it rained heavily. At our final rehearsal, on November 2, the skies were overcast. I asked the youth to return to their homes and pray for good weather so they would be able to perform for Tonga and for those who would be watching via satellite, especially the prophet. That night it rained hard, and the next morning the weather was still foreboding.
On Saturday evening, 3,000 young people gathered at Teufaiva Stadium to hear from Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had been sent to rededicate the temple due to President Hinckley’s frail health. I will never forget the performance. Everything fell into place. The weather was perfect, the sound system that had malfunctioned earlier was excellent, and those young men and young women danced their hearts out.
We had witnessed a miracle. Heavenly Father heard the prayers of His children and kept the rain away. At the same time, we were able to set the tone for the temple dedication the next day, reminding members that eternal families are the treasure that lasts and that temples are built to bring such blessings to pass.

“I don’t want to go to church today,” said Missy as she stretched a blanket over her head.
“Why not?” her mother asked. “I thought you liked Primary.”
“Sister Hanes won’t be my teacher anymore. I don’t want to go into a new class and have a new teacher!”
“Missy, I know you’ll miss Sister Hanes, but I’m sure you’ll like your new teacher too.”
“I don’t think so,” answered Missy, peeking out.
“Well, at least give her a chance. She might surprise you.”
“We’ll see,” said Missy, dragging herself out of bed.
During Sunday School opening exercises, Missy’s eyes searched the faces of the congregation as she wondered who her new teacher would be. Whoever it was wouldn’t be as great as Sister Hanes, Missy was sure.
As singing period ended and everyone began leaving the chapel for their classes, Missy clutched her mother’s hand. “Will you take me to Primary?”
“Of course, honey,” her mother said. They were the first to arrive except for the teachers and leaders. As Missy looked at the teachers, she saw a man she didn’t know. I wonder what he’s doing in the chair my new teacher will have, she thought. Before Missy could think about it anymore, her mother was introducing herself to this stranger. “Hello. I’m Sister Franks, and this is my daughter, Missy.”
“Hello, Missy,” the man said cheerfully. “I’m Brother Tailor, your new Primary teacher. I’m going to need some help today because I’m new in your ward. Can you help me?”
“What kind of help?” Missy asked, surprised.
“Well, for one thing, could you introduce me to the other children in the class?”
“Sure,” Missy said, forgetting to be shy.
“I’d really appreciate it,” he said.
Missy let go of her mother’s hand and stood next to her new teacher. As her classmates came in, she grinned at them and said, “Megan, Philip, Craig, and Sandy, this is Brother Tailor. He’s our new Primary teacher!”

At the time, there were only two Aaronic Priesthood bearers in the Immokalee Branch: Junior and another young man named Jorge Caceres. Jorge was born in the Church but had become discouraged because for a long time he had been the only Aaronic Priesthood bearer in the branch. So Junior, a convert, was the only one who went to stake firesides.
Today there are 26 active young men in the branch—and one of them is Jorge Caceres, the one who had previously been discouraged about having no other young men with whom to associate.
“I became friends with Junior, too,” Jorge says, “Then when he started inviting his friends to church, I became friends with them. Every week new people kept coming.”
And Jorge noticed something. “Once they started getting to know the Church, they changed.” The gospel was changing them; getting to know Christ was changing them. “When I saw that, I started to take church more seriously. I worked on my own testimony, and now I know the Church is true.”

Looking for ideas for an Eagle project? Check out what these youths did:
Clark Rogers of Madison, Alabama, teamed up with Dr. Danny Cartwright, a pediatrician in his town, to spread the antismoking message. Clark oversaw a committee that gathered information about smoking advertising. He and Dr. Cartwright then held a press conference about why teens shouldn’t smoke. The press conference was featured in three newspapers and two evening news shows.

When it was announced on Sunday that the young men in my ward were going to do baptisms for the dead, I just thought to myself, Too bad I can’t go. I never gave it another thought because I knew it would be too difficult for me to go. I have cerebral palsy.
After my mom picked me up from school on Tuesday (the day the young men were going to the temple), she said we needed to hurry because the bishop would be picking us up at 5:30 P.M. I didn’t even pay attention because I thought she was talking to my brother, Beau.
Then she said, “Bart, you need to hurry and eat and get showered and into your Sunday clothes.”
I said, “What? I’m going?”
She told me that the bishop didn’t want me to be left out and thought that it would be nice if I went and watched the other boys do baptisms for the dead. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to go to the temple!
As we hurried to get ready, I could hardly quit smiling; just the thought that I could go to the temple made me happy. Rick Hansen, my teachers quorum adviser, drove me to the temple in his nice, new van. My wheelchair fit inside just fine.
The temple was so beautiful. I had heard people say how strong the Spirit of the Holy Ghost is in the temple, and boy, were they right. I sat behind the window looking at the other boys being baptized, wishing I could be baptized too.
Just then Bishop Homer came over to me. “Come on,” he said. “We need to get you dressed.” I wasn’t sure what he meant or where we were going. He took me back to a special dressing room that was for temple workers, and he and Rick tried to figure out how to get the baptismal clothes on me. They did a pretty good job. I looked down at myself and thought it was neat to be dressed in white.
Then the temple worker gave me a card with my name on it. The bishop took me into the baptismal font area where I waited for my turn. As I sat and waited, a special feeling came over me. I kept looking up at the ceiling and thanking my Heavenly Father for this chance that he had given me. I also thought about the people I would be doing the baptisms for. I wondered what they would think about me, a handicapped boy, being baptized for them.
Then my turn came. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. I felt as if all eyes were on me. The bishop scooped me up in his arms and carried me down into the baptismal font. It took both the bishop and Rick to baptize me because of my floppy trunk and stiff limbs. The bishop stopped after completing the ordinance for each name and made sure I was still breathing all right. I did a total of five baptisms. The bishop and Rick then dressed me, and the bishop even combed my hair with his comb. Beau told me that when the bishop pushed me out of the dressing room he had sweat coming down his face. I’m not sure the bishop realized how much work it was going to be to dress me.
As we went over to do the confirmations, I felt warm all over. I thought to myself, How could people not know that the Church is true? I was so grateful my bishop cared enough to give me the chance to be baptized in the temple. It’s so beautiful inside the temple. The powerful feeling inside just makes me feel that I know the Church is true.

The first day I saw Frances, I knew I’d found the right one. The Lord brought us together later, and I asked her to go out with me. I went to her home to call on her. She introduced me, and her father said, “ ‘Monson’—that’s a Swedish name, isn’t it?”

I said, “Yes.”

He said, “Good.”

Then he went into another room and brought out a picture of two missionaries with their top hats and their copies of the Book of Mormon.

“Are you related to this Monson,” he said, “Elias Monson?”

I said, “Yes, he’s my grandfather’s brother. He too was a missionary in Sweden.”

Her father wept. He wept easily. He said, “He and his companion were the missionaries who taught the gospel to my mother and my father and all of my brothers and sisters and to me.” He kissed me on the cheek. And then her mother cried, and she kissed me on the other cheek. And then I looked around for Frances. She said, “I’ll go get my coat.”

My sweet Frances had a terrible fall a few years ago. She went to the hospital. She lay in a coma for about 18 days. I sat by her side. She never moved a muscle. The children cried, the grandchildren cried, and I wept. Not a movement.

And then one day, she opened her eyes. I set a speed record in getting to her side. I gave her a kiss and a hug, and I said, “You’re back. I love you.” And she said, “I love you, too, Tom, but we’re in serious trouble.” I thought, What do you know about trouble, Frances? She said, “I forgot to mail in our fourth-quarter income tax payment.”

I said to her, “Frances, if you had said that before you extended a kiss to me and told me you love me, I might have left you here.”

Brethren, let’s treat our wives with dignity and with respect. They’re our eternal companions. Sisters, honor your husbands. They need to hear a good word. They need a friendly smile. They need a warm expression of true love.

Sister Dolly Nyandeni, from the Dobsonville Ward in the Soweto Stake, loves family history and explains how she got started: “I attended the family history class at church and learned more about the filling of the pedigree chart and other important aspects about my family.”
“Through fasting and prayer, the Holy Ghost guided me to know other things such as names and dates that were needed for my ancestors. Also, family gatherings helped me to obtain more information.”
“I gained more insight in Malachi 4:5–6. The prophet Elijah taught about the turning the hearts of children to their fathers and of fathers to their children, before the coming of the dreadful day of the Lord. That gave me insight into the bond and love we have with our ancestors. They are with us in spirit.”

Although many of our experiences in the house of the Lord are too sacred to share publicly, some we can share. Forty years ago, while living in Florida, Kathy and I traveled to the temple in Atlanta, Georgia. On Wednesday night, May 9, 1984, as we completed a session in the temple, an ordinance worker approached me and asked if I had time to do just one preparatory initiatory ordinance. The name of the person I represented was unusual. His name was Eleazer Cercy.
The next day, the temple was full of Saints. As I prepared to perform my second endowment of the day, I was given the name of the person I would represent. Surprisingly, the name was the same individual from the night before, Eleazer Cercy. I felt the Spirit of the Lord as the endowment was completed. Later in the afternoon, still in the temple, Kathy saw an elderly family friend, Sister Dolly Fernandez, who now lived in Atlanta. With no male members of her family with her, she asked if I could possibly assist in the sealing of her father to her father’s parents. I was of course honored.
As I knelt at the end of the altar for this sacred ordinance, I heard once again the name that was now inscribed in my mind, her father, Eleazer Cercy. I fully believe that following this life, I will meet and embrace a man known in his mortal life as Eleazer Cercy.

If you’ve read the first verse of the Book of Mormon, you already know something about 17-year-old Juan Ordoñez and his 15-year-old sister, Mayra, of the Pachitol Ward, Patzicía Guatemala Stake.
Juan, Mayra, and their seven older brothers and sisters were “born of goodly parents,” who have passed on skills the family needs to survive, such as the family trades of farming and tortilla making, as well as the language of their ancestors, Cakchiquel.
But those aren’t the only ways their family is like Nephi’s. Juan and Mayra have parents who understand that it is as important to pass on a “knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God” (1 Nephi 1:1) as it is to pass on physical survival skills.
While many teens don’t have Lehi- and Sariah-like parents to pass on the gospel (see sidebar on page 13), for Juan, Mayra, and others who do, the question is: Will we be Nephi-like learners, who listen, apply gospel truths, and pass them along as well? Or will we be like Laman and Lemuel, who heard the same information but didn’t want to find out the truth for themselves and couldn’t pass it on?
Juan can’t remember how old he was when he started working with his dad in the fields. “The children would start going with me when they were small,” Juan’s dad, Joel, says. “They learned by watching and then doing what they could, depending on their strength and capacity.”
Mayra learned to make tortillas the same way, watching her mom and sisters until she was old enough to pitch in and help.
But plowing, planting, and tortilla making aren’t the only things being passed from one generation to the next. As Mayra’s mother, Carmela, molded and shaped tortillas, she was also giving shape to her daughter’s character. As Brother Ordoñez prepared, planted, or cultivated the ground, he was doing the same for Juan’s heart.
As the family spent time together, the children could see not just how their parents worked but how they lived. And when the opportunity arose, their parents made the gospel a topic of conversation while they worked.
But observing—and even doing—isn’t always enough. In the Book of Mormon’s first family, Laman and Lemuel heard the same things that Nephi heard from their father, and they too even went and did what their father asked. But they were missing something important, something that Juan and Mayra have—a desire to learn.
Juan and Mayra live in Patzicía, a Cakchiquel community a few hours from Guatemala City. Because many of those who buy their tortillas and seek their plowing services don’t speak Spanish, it was important to Juan and Mayra to learn Cakchiquel.
But not everyone feels that way. Cakchiquel isn’t taught in the schools. The language has been passed down from generation to generation for hundreds of years. However, in each succeeding generation there are many who don’t want to learn it or feel they don’t need it.
As their children grew, Brother and Sister Ordoñez often wondered if their children would listen. Would they obey? Would they want to know, like Nephi? Would they pass the gospel on to their children?
It may be too early to tell. But Brother and Sister Ordoñez have reason to hope.
Their older children are starting to pass gospel truths on. And the younger children are recognizing the importance of passing the gospel on too. “It’s hard sometimes to take counsel from your parents,” Juan says. “But I’m grateful for their help.”
“They didn’t just teach me how to cook beans and make tortillas,” Mayra says. “They have taught me the right path—to follow God.”

Let me share with you a rather private but joyful example from my own experience.
As a bishop, I worried about any members who were inactive, not attending, not serving. Such was my thought one day as I drove down the street where Ben and Emily Fullmer lived. Aches and pains of advancing years caused them to withdraw from activity to the shelter of their home—isolated, detached, shut out from the mainstream of daily life and association. Ben and Emily had not been in our sacrament meeting for many years. Ben, a former bishop, would sit constantly in his front room reading and memorizing the New Testament.
I was en route from my uptown sales office to our plant on Industrial Road. For some reason I had driven down First West, a street which I never had traveled before to reach the destination of our plant. Then I felt the unmistakable prompting to park my car and visit Ben and Emily, even though I was on my way to a meeting. I did not heed the impression at first but drove on for two more blocks; however, when the impression came again, I returned to their home.
It was a sunny weekday afternoon. I approached the door to their home and knocked. I heard the tiny fox terrier dog bark at my approach. Emily welcomed me in. Upon seeing me, she exclaimed, “All day long I have waited for my phone to ring. It has been silent. I hoped the postman would deliver a letter. He brought only bills. Bishop, how did you know today is my birthday?”
I answered, “God knows, Emily, for He loves you.”
In the quiet of their living room, I said to Ben and Emily, “I really don’t know why I was directed here today, but I was. Our Heavenly Father knows. Let’s kneel in prayer and ask Him why.” This we did, and the answer came. As we arose from our knees, I said to Brother Fullmer, “Ben, would you come to priesthood meeting when we meet with all the priesthood and relate to our Aaronic Priesthood boys the story you once told me when I was a boy, how you and a group of boys were en route to the Jordan River to swim one Sunday, but you felt the Spirit direct you to attend Sunday School. And you did. One of the boys who failed to respond to that Spirit drowned that Sunday. Our boys would like to hear your testimony.”
“I’ll do it,” he responded.
I then said to Sister Fullmer, “Emily, I know you have a beautiful voice. My mother has told me so. Our ward conference is a few weeks away, and our choir will sing. Would you join the choir and attend our ward conference and perhaps sing a solo?”
“What will the number be?” she inquired.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I’d like you to sing it.”
She sang. He spoke to the Aaronic Priesthood. Hearts were gladdened by the return to activity of Ben and Emily. They rarely missed a sacrament meeting from that day forward. The language of the Spirit had been spoken. It had been heard. It had been understood. Hearts were touched and souls saved. Ben and Emily Fullmer had come home.

Please make sure your seat belt is fastened and adjust your seat back to its upright position. You are about to land in Auckland, New Zealand.
Giant Puhutukawa trees dot the rolling hills around the city. And the boat-flecked sea surrounding Auckland, the City of Sails, is shining in the sun. But the variety in the landscapes, buildings, and boats is only a reflection of the colorful and varied cultures and personalities of the people of New Zealand.
The youth and other members of the Church are no exception. To the mix of the many things that make up life in New Zealand they add their own main ingredients of faith and testimony.
In Auckland is the Panmure stake. And in that stake’s boundaries is Bucklands Beach, where Bella Aniterea and Nicolas Purcell live. This morning Bella, a Mia Maid, is giving a talk on prayer in sacrament meeting. There’s a good reason her dad, a member of the Howick Ward bishopric, asked her to give that talk. She says she has a testimony of prayer because she prays.
In preparing for her talk, Bella reread the story of Enos in the Book of Mormon. “He prayed for one whole day, and he prayed for his enemies,” Bella recounts. Although she had read the story before, she had never noticed that Enos prayed for his enemies. “I haven’t done that yet,” Bella says, “but I think I’m going to start today.”
And, if you look to the left of the pulpit where Bella bore her testimony of prayer, you’ll see Nicolas, a teacher, putting away the sacrament trays after the meeting.
It might sound strange, but Nicolas’s testimony of the priesthood began with a head injury. “I was Rollerblading down a hill with a mate, and I hit something and cracked the back of my head open.” At 10 inches, the “crack” was more like a canyon, and the doctors said Nicolas would not pull through or he would have severe brain damage. A priesthood blessing from his dad and others in the ward proved the doctors wrong. “That experience gave me quite a shining testimony of the priesthood,” Nicolas says. The Lord preserved his life through the power of the priesthood, and Nicolas plans to honor his priesthood by serving a mission.
Nicolas and Bella’s stake is only a hop, skip, and a jump from the Avondale Ward in the Waterview stake. The trip to the temple from there takes a few hours. Nevertheless, the youth of that ward all pile into a minibus so they can do baptisms for the dead in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple.
The road to Hamilton twists and turns, and the Avondale youth sway from side to side as they become even more excited about going to the temple. They look out the windows of the minibus at the rain. It is like liquid sunshine. Warm and wet. There’s a good reason the Maori name for New Zealand is Aotearoa, or the Land of the Long White Cloud.
After the baptisms, the Avondale youth go to the soggy, green temple grounds. This was Jordon King’s first time doing baptisms for the dead, but she knows how important the work is. “We were there to help the people who can’t do their own work. I got a warm feeling.” And with that warm feeling, Jordon, 12, joined the other youth in their testimonies of temple work.

A passage from the novel Les misérables illustrates how priesthood holders can treat those individuals viewed as strangers. Jean Valjean had just been released as a prisoner. Exhausted by a long voyage and dying of hunger and thirst, he arrives in a small town seeking a place to find food and shelter for the night. When the news of his arrival spreads, one by one all the inhabitants close their doors to him. Not the hotel, not the inn, not even the prison would invite him in. He is rejected, driven away, banished. Finally, with no strength left, he collapses at the front door of the town’s bishop.
The good clergyman is entirely aware of Valjean’s background, but he invites the vagabond into his home with these compassionate words:
“‘This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. … What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me [your name], you had one which I knew.’
“[Valjean] opened his eyes in astonishment.
“‘Really? You knew what I was called?’
“‘Yes,’ replied the Bishop, ‘you are called my brother.’”7