Gospel Story Finder

Recently I dedicated a beautiful little chapel, and at that time I was told that in order to pay the balance of the ward’s share of the construction cost ($5,000), the bishop had asked all members to limit Christmas presents to small children and to donate the amount thus saved to the building fund. The members responded beautifully, considering this an opportunity to receive a blessing rather than as a sacrifice, and at the dedicatory service many bore witness to this effect.

In 1973, my husband and I sat calmly listening to a Church speaker describe how disfellowshipments and excommunications had increased in recent years within the Church. As I shook my head sadly, feeling secure in my temple marriage, testimony, and Church activity, I hadn’t the least notion at that time of how my future would be devastatingly affected by this process.
My life was drastically altered some seven years later when my husband, an active Melchizedek Priesthood holder, returned missionary, former bishopric member, and father to our six children, was called before a Church court and disfellowshipped.
I felt rejected, betrayed, and frightened that this could happen to me. As I poured out my soul to the Lord, searching for answers, I learned eternal truths that helped me through this heartrending experience. In a way only he could do, the Lord has mercifully stood me back on my feet, both emotionally and spiritually.
I’m convinced my anguish couldn’t have been more intense had I been the one disciplined in court. I had tried long and hard to do all the Lord asked of me. I’d married a wonderful young man who glowed with a testimony of the gospel, and I now felt betrayed. He had changed, and I had no control over the situation. I wept for our young son approaching Aaronic Priesthood age and wondered how we could explain that his father could not confer this precious priesthood on him. Another son would be baptized in a short time. Again we would have to search for an explanation. I was afraid to face family, friends, and ward members. Although I’d done my best to assure myself and my children of happiness, it seemed as though I were living in a nightmare.
Finding a way to deal with grief and disappointment developed into a full-time job. Needing someone to talk to, I turned to the Lord for help and comfort. He became my loving counselor.
Several years earlier, at the death of our infant son, I had blamed myself for the loss. An understanding doctor wisely counseled that this was common, but nonetheless wrong. A grieving person naturally searches for something he might have done to prevent tragedy. “Don’t give in to the temptation to blame yourself,” he advised.
Following the Church court, I found myself falling into this trap again. Gradually I realized I could neither control nor take responsibility for my husband’s actions. I began to concentrate on the things I could control and change in myself.
At the same time I tried to accept not only my situation, but my husband as well. I learned that comparing our spiritual progress to that of other couples was useless. When I read about exemplary fathers and husbands, I still struggled with discouragement. Yet I was able to tell myself, “Their situations are different. The Lord will help me with mine.” As I expressed gratitude for blessings I did have, a loving acceptance grew within me. Along with it, the attitude in our entire family improved. To my amazement, I discovered times when I was happier and more at peace than I’d been in years.
Sometimes I hesitated asking for certain blessings, fearing that my husband’s situation might prevent our receiving them. The Lord quickly dismissed my apprehension, however, and over the years presented us with material and spiritual blessings.
My self-esteem had been shattered by our experience with the disfellowshipment. I was busy many hours each week, serving as president of one of the ward auxiliaries. How could the Lord, or for that matter, the bishop, possibly expect me to continue in this calling? Emotionally and physically, I was drained. But nothing was mentioned concerning my release, and I stayed in that position. I later understood this to be the Lord’s way of demonstrating a need for my abilities. At the same time, our children continued to do well in and out of school. Here the Lord was assuring me that we weren’t failing as parents. These experiences lifted me and convinced me of my worth.
As the weeks, months, and years went by, the pain sometimes grew less and sometimes grew stronger. I got used to most people avoiding the issue in conversation. Few got past the fear of not knowing what to say, and so said nothing. I’ll always appreciate the friend who sincerely asked, “How are things going?” and listened patiently as I told her.
The Lord continued to comfort and teach me. Often I complained about my husband’s unwillingness to change. Without exception, Heavenly Father refused to accept my criticism. Through inspiration he referred me, in a loving way, to scriptures on tolerance. He also reminded me of my special role as a wife. I was convinced that parts of Doctrine and Covenants 25, where the Lord calls Emma Smith to aid and comfort her husband, applied as much to me as to Emma. Over and over I read this section, each time believing more in my husband’s worth.
I prayed regularly for an increase in love toward my husband. The Lord answered in unusual, but practical ways. I sought opportunities to give of myself, knowing those we serve become those we love. I didn’t have to look far, as my husband was hurt in three minor accidents within a year. During his short convalescent periods at home I provided emotional care and concern. I was rewarded many times over with greater love and appreciation for him.
I realized, too, that my service didn’t need to be a huge undertaking. Since my husband was away from home much of the time, I tried to make him the center of my attention when he was at home. Saying something positive or complimentary to him each day grew from a challenge into a habit. I also refrained from criticizing my husband, either to him or anyone else. These small efforts worked wonders. Like a dying plant rediscovering light and nourishment, our love regained vitality.
I drew great comfort and hope from the twenty-seventh chapter of Mosiah. Here an angel appears to Alma the Younger because of the faith and prayers of his father. (See Mosiah 27:8–17.) Through this scripture the Lord assured me that he answers prayers said in behalf of others. I have made it a point to never cease praying for my husband. More difficult, but just as important, is maintaining faith that one day his heart will change.
Charity, I’ve also discovered, is a gift from God. Shortly after the Church court, I was suddenly consumed with a deep affection and acceptance for my husband. I longed to help and support him in every possible way. This sweet sensation stayed long enough for me to realize that I wanted it always. I pray regularly, as Moroni suggested, “with all the energy of heart [to] be filled with this love.” (Moro. 7:48.)
My husband has now been reinstated into the Church. Though many changes for good have come, his gospel commitment and spiritual desire for activity have yet to return. I’ve accepted the fact, however, that only he can control those things. Instead of focusing on our failures, I can now express gratitude for the things we’re doing right. I’ve discovered, to my surprise, that it’s possible to be happy in any situation. I’ve also learned that through the most painful experience of my life has come my greatest growth.
Editor’s note: At the author’s request, her name has been withheld.

It seemed like the bell would never ring. Why does the day that Grandfather comes always seem like the longest day of the year? Alma wondered. And when will—
The clanging schoolbell interrupted Alma’s thoughts, and he quickly ran out of the classroom.
“Alma Cutler, slow down!” his teacher Miss Young called after him.
Alma barely heard her. He just had to get home in a hurry today. Grandfather was coming to visit!
Alma tripped over a rock in the dirt road and fell head over heels. His school books and papers were scattered everywhere. He jumped up and gathered his books and papers into a bunch and continued running. “Why does everything have to slow me down the day Grandfather comes?” he said to no one in particular.
As Alma ran into the kitchen where his mother was baking bread, he went so fast that he couldn’t stop, and he crashed into the table, sending the baking flour flying like a cloud into the air.
“Alma Cutler! What on earth’s wrong with you?” his mother scolded, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I’m just excited to see Grandfather,” Alma replied. “Where is he?”
“He and your father haven’t come from the railroad station yet. Now get yourself out of my kitchen and go and gather the eggs.”
Alma hurried to the chicken coop to gather the eggs. He was proud that he didn’t break any, since everything else had gone wrong. But then when he went to get some chicken feed, he leaned too far over the grain barrel, and it fell over. Alma tried to scoop up the grain, but the chickens were eager to get to the spilled feed and scrambled all over him. He had a terrible time.
Once out of the chicken coop, Alma ran back to the house and yelled, “Is Grandfather here yet?”
“Not yet,” his mother answered.
Alma sat down on an old tree stump outside the kitchen window and picked some chicken feathers off his pants. “How come Grandfather’s not on time?” he grumbled.
“Good heavens, child!” his mother said. “Finish your work and stop worrying about when your grandfather will be here. He’ll get here when he gets here.”
Alma got up and kicked at some weeds. He couldn’t understand why he was the only one who got excited when Grandfather came.
At the side of the house, Alma picked up a bucket of potato peelings and vegetable tops to feed the pigs. When he got to the pigpen, Alma used all his strength to lift the bucket up on to the fence but he wasn’t careful where he put his feet. Suddenly he slipped and fell against the fence, and some of the messy mixture spilled on him. Alma was sure the pigs were laughing at him.
Alma put the bucket away and walked back into the house. Before he could ask about Grandfather, his mother sniffed the air and groaned, “Alma, did you have to play with the pigs? Now get yourself cleaned up before your grandfather comes.”
Alma went to his room and took off his dirty clothes and began to wash himself. He was scrubbing his face when he heard his mother calling out a greeting. “Grandfather’s here!” Alma shouted, letting the soapy water run into his eyes. “Ow!” he yelled, and he quickly rinsed the soap from his eyes.
As soon as he had put on clean clothes, Alma ran to the kitchen. Just before he got there, he heard his mother say, “I’m telling you, Father, I just don’t know what happens to the boy when he knows you’re coming. He complains all day long, wondering when you’ll get here, and he can’t do anything without it going wrong.”
Alma blushed, and he wanted to hide, but there was Grandfather coming out of the kitchen. “There you are, Alma! How’s my favorite grandson?”
“I didn’t mean to complain, Grandfather,” Alma said. “I just wanted you to get here faster.”
“You heard what your mother said, didn’t you?” his grandfather asked.
“I didn’t mean to,” Alma told him, “but—”
“Now, don’t you worry,” Grandfather said. “Come and sit down next to me and let me tell you a story that taught me a lesson about complaining.
“You see, Alma, complaining about being thirsty didn’t get us to the water hole any sooner.”
Alma looked up at his grandfather and saw a smile in the old man’s eyes. The next time Grandfather comes, Alma thought, I’ll be just like Hunkup. I won’t want Grandfather to be here until he comes.

Every day is busy for Clint Callender, another member of the Garden Park Branch. But being busy keeps him happy. The 17-year-old did so well on his exams that he is now teaching information technology at the Tutorial High School. He was recently sustained as district clerk, a calling that matches well with his interest in computers and his plans to study computer science at a university next year. He is also busy with Aaronic Priesthood and Mutual activities, seminary, basketball, friends, and simply living the gospel day by day.
“I’m trying to be a light to my family and to other people,” Clint says. For example, he encourages his family to pray and to hold family home evening. And with friends, he says, “I try to get them to take a look at what they’re doing, to see what is right and what is wrong, to guide them if they want help.” He also talks with friends about the Church’s humanitarian efforts worldwide. “I tell them that in disasters, we provide food and clothing.” And, he says, smiling, “We offer prayers, too.”
Clint says his personal prayers lift his spirit. “It’s wonderful to know that you can kneel down and speak directly to Heavenly Father sincerely, and you will receive an answer, not always right away, but eventually. Prayer helps you to be much closer to Heavenly Father. Just keep the channel open all of the time.”
He looks to the future with hope. “When I’m 19, I see myself serving a full-time mission,” he says. “That’s another way to be an example.” He believes that someday there will be a temple in Guyana.
“Families will go there to be sealed, and I hope my family will be one of them,” Clint says. “A temple in Guyana means many more Guyanese will be Latter-day Saints. The temple brings a feeling of peace and reverence, and I think all of Guyana will be blessed.” What a great day that will be!

In a room filled with couches, end tables, and lamps, two slightly nervous missionaries talk with a Church member.
“Do you know anyone you’d like to share the gospel with?” asks Sister Marissa Johnstun.
“Uh, I’m not really sure,” answers the young woman.
The sisters look a little stumped and a lot self-conscious as the video camera in the corner continues to run.
In an adjoining room of the Training Resource Center (TRC), Elder Morgan furiously scribbles notes as he observes the sisters on a computer screen.
“Thank goodness we get a second try,” says Sister Katie Kondel as she and Sister Johnstun emerge from the classroom-turned-living-room. Elder Morgan gives encouraging pointers as the three replay the sisters’ video. “Next time try testifying a little more.”
The sisters head back for another try, this time looking more confident. As they share their testimonies, Elder Morgan cheers for them in the observation room. “Good job!” he says, clapping his hands.
Missionaries have TRC experiences like this every week, taking turns observing each other as they practice missionary situations they’ve learned about in class. The “investigators” or “members” are volunteers from the community.
“I enjoy it,” says Sister Kondel. “It’s good practice, and we need all the practice we can get! It helps to know what kinds of situations we’ll be in.”

My husband’s great-grandfather Henry Clegg Jr. was a finisher. He joined the Church with his family when the first LDS missionaries went to Preston, England. Henry had a view of his destination in his mind as he and his wife, Hannah, and their two young boys immigrated to Utah. Henry left his older parents, who were too feeble to make such a long and arduous journey, knowing he would never see them again.
While crossing the plains, Hannah contracted cholera and died. She was laid to rest in an unmarked grave. The company then moved on, and at 6:00 in the evening, Henry’s youngest son also died. Henry retraced his steps to Hannah’s grave, placed his young son in his wife’s arms, and reburied the two of them together. Henry then had to return to the wagon train, now five miles away. Suffering from cholera himself, Henry described his condition as being at death’s door while realizing he still had 1,000 miles to walk. Amazingly he continued forward, putting one foot in front of the other. He stopped writing in his journal for several weeks after losing his dear Hannah and little son. I was struck with the words he used when he did start writing again: “Still moving.”
When he finally reached the gathering place of the Saints, he began a new family. He kept the faith. He continued his story. Most remarkably, his heartache over the burial of his sweetheart and son gave birth to our family’s legacy of moving forward, of finishing.
Henry Clegg was still moving forward to live among the faithful Saints, to take his place, to raise a righteous family, to serve his neighbor. He had that picture in his mind even when his heart was breaking. I heard a Primary child from Ghana answer the question “What does it mean to choose the right every day?” with, “It means to follow the Lord and Savior every day and do your best even when it is hard.” This modern pioneer boy knew President Hinckley’s admonition. He knew about keeping commandments every day. He understood that his own story would unfold simply by putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.

As Sister Simpson and I walked along lower Queen Street in Auckland, New Zealand, the other day, we came to a particular place not far from the wharf. There we paused for a few moments as I related to her the incident that took place at that very spot during my first mission.

I could still see in my mind’s eye a very old Maori couple who stood at the curb with thousands of others waving farewell to the Maori Battalion as they marched down to their troop transport and off to war.

The old couple became very excited as one young soldier glanced their way with a big smile. From their Maori conversation, it became apparent that this was their great-grandson going off to war.

His would be an atomic war with sophisticated equipment capable of killing by the thousands—so unlike the Maori wars of the late 1800s that the old Maori had participated in as a young tribal warrior.

Soon the boy was gone from view, and it was then that the old man turned to his wife and said (perhaps a little cynically), “Ka tahi kua pakeha tatou,” which in effect means, “So now we are civilized.”

On a May morning in 1843 some of the Apostles were meeting in Joseph Smith’s office in Nauvoo. Opposition to the Church was building in Illinois, and persecution of the Saints was increasing. Yet at this difficult time, the leaders called four men to leave their families, travel far from their homes, and serve missions in the Sandwich Islands (Hawaiian Islands). They were the first missionaries called to a non-English-speaking mission field. The four men—Addison Pratt, Noah Rogers, Benjamin F. Grouard, and Knowlton F. Hanks—were set apart on May 23 by Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Orson Hyde, and Parley P. Pratt.
The missionaries first traveled east to New Bedford, Massachusetts, where they hoped to find a ship going to their mission area. When they couldn’t find one, they booked passage on a ship traveling to the Society Islands (French Polynesian Islands) in the South Pacific. They set sail on October 9, 1843.
After they had been at sea only a few weeks, Elder Hanks, a young man who had suffered from ill health, died and was buried in the Atlantic. The three remaining missionaries continued on. Their voyage took them east across the Atlantic, around the Cape of Good Hope, across the Indian Ocean, along the southern coast of Australia, and into the Pacific.
The first island reached by the ship was Tubuai in 1844. When the natives there pleaded with the missionaries to stay, Addison Pratt left the ship to teach these people who had shown them kindness and hospitality. Serving there alone for many months, struggling to learn the Polynesian language, he baptized sixty out of a population of two hundred and organized the first branch of the Church in the South Pacific. To this day, the Latter-day Saint community on Tubuai is a strong one.
Elder Pratt’s two former companions traveled on to Tahiti, where their teaching met with far less success. After a few months, Elder Rogers traveled west to the leeward islands and Elder Grouard sailed to the island of Anaa in the Tuamotus. Elder Rogers again met with little success and much opposition. When rumors finally reached him of the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith, he began to fear for the safety of his family in Nauvoo, and he returned to America. He died during the exodus from Nauvoo.
The people of Anaa, on the other hand, came to greatly love Elder Grouard. He was the first white missionary of any kind to come to their island, and many of them accepted the truth he taught. He baptized over six hundred natives, organized five branches, and called local officers to serve. He wrote to Elder Pratt and asked him to come to Anaa, as there was too much work for him to do alone.
Elder Pratt responded to his companion’s invitation, and a conference of the Church was held on Anaa with over eight hundred in attendance. At this time Addison Pratt decided to travel back to Church headquarters to request more missionaries to help in the work in the South Pacific. Leaving Elder Grouard behind, he traveled first to California, then to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving in September 1848, one week after his wife and four daughters had arrived from Winter Quarters.
He shared his experiences with the Saints, taught Tahitian classes, and prepared to return to Polynesia. In 1850 he set out with a new companion, James S. Brown, and the promise that his own family and other missionary families would soon follow. They did follow, and despite growing problems with the French government in the islands, the missionaries and their families served until 1852, when they were forced to return to America.
Forty years passed before LDS missionaries were allowed back into French Polynesia. Many members had remained faithful despite the lack of contact with Church headquarters, but many had fallen away. The work began anew in 1892 and has continued with a few interruptions to this day. The gospel truth has shone in these islands for 150 years!
There are now four stakes in the Society Islands, and a beautiful temple stands in Papeete, on the island of Tahiti. The stories of the early missionaries are remembered and shared often by those who now send their own sons and daughters as missionaries to other countries and other islands.

In 2001, he wanted to run for Parliament in Zambia and went to the temple to ask the Lord. The answer was a clear “no”. But he stood for election anyway—and lost. Later he went to the Lord again and was told, “Not yet.” Then in 2011 he went to the temple in prayer about seeking government office. This time the Lord answered, “Go ahead.”
Following his election to Parliament in 2011, Dr. Patrick Chikusu served as Zambia’s deputy minister of health until his death in 2013. His ethics and high standards made an immediate impact in the government. For example, he returned any unused money after completing travel assignments. He requested women working in his office wear modest, professional office attire. He soon noticed women in the other offices in the ministry had adopted similar dress standards. Sister Chikusu said people appreciated her husband’s honesty and good example.

A true story from the USA.
Eli leaned on his rake and looked up at the bare branches of the oak tree. He was raking leaves in his grandma’s yard and had already made a giant pile. He smiled. Autumn always made him think of roast turkey and pumpkin pie.
Just then Grandma came out of the house.
“Thank you, Eli!” she said. “The yard looks wonderful. I’m glad you could rake the leaves before the first snow.” She wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. “I’m going to visit a friend at the nursing home. Want to come?”
“Sure!”
Eli set his rake against the tree. A large orange leaf fluttered down and landed on his foot.
What a pretty leaf! he thought.
He felt like he should take it with him. So he carefully picked up the leaf.
“Who are we going to visit?” he asked.
“Mrs. Overly,” Grandma said. “She just moved in last month.”
As they walked, Eli twirled the leaf’s stem between his fingers. The nursing home was only a block from Grandma’s house. Eli liked to join her on her visits. The people there always seemed happy to see him.
The doors swung open. Eli spotted Mr. Hansen sitting in his wheelchair by the front desk.
“Good morning, Heber,” Grandma said.
Mr. Hansen never said a word, but he held up his hand, and Eli gave him a high five.
They went to Mrs. Overly’s room. She smiled when they walked in.
“Well, hello!” She reached for Grandma’s hand. “It’s good to see you. And who did you bring with you today?”
“This is my grandson Eli,” Grandma said. “He has been raking leaves for me this morning.”
Eli remembered the leaf he was holding. He held it out to Mrs. Overly. “I brought one for you!” he said.
“Oh!” Mrs. Overly’s smile got bigger as she took the leaf. “How did you know that I love leaves? I used to have a lovely leaf collection, but I couldn’t bring it with me when I moved here. Now I can start a new one!”
The feeling Eli had to take the leaf must have been from the Holy Ghost! Eli didn’t know that someone needed a leaf today, but Heavenly Father knew.
Eli grinned. I wonder who else I can help if I listen carefully to the Holy Ghost! he thought.

I recently went with priesthood leaders to visit the homes of four women in Honduras. These sisters and their families were in need of priesthood keys and authority, priesthood ordinances and covenants, and priesthood power and blessings.
Our last visit was at the home of a sister whose husband recently died in a tragic accident. A recent convert to the Church, she had not understood that she could receive her own endowment and be sealed to her husband. When we taught her that these blessings could be available to her and her deceased husband, she was filled with hope. Knowing that through temple ordinances and covenants her family can be sealed together, she has faith and determination to face the trials ahead.
This widow’s son is preparing to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. His ordination will be a great blessing to her and her family. They will have a priesthood holder in their home.
In each of the three homes we visited, a wise priesthood leader asked each sister if she had received a priesthood blessing. Each time the answer was no. Each sister asked for and received a priesthood blessing that day. Each wept as she expressed gratitude for the comfort, direction, encouragement, and inspiration that came from her Heavenly Father through a worthy priesthood holder.
These sisters inspired me. They showed reverence for God and His power and authority. I was also grateful for the priesthood leaders who visited these homes with me. When we left each home, we counseled together about how to help these families receive the ordinances they needed to progress on the covenant path and strengthen their homes.

Hello! I’m Priyanka. I live in Visakhapatnam. I love Jesus Christ and His teachings. I used to attend different churches. One fine day I told my friend who is a Christian that I wanted to get baptised. Then she introduced me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints. I really liked the fellowship of the members and the standards of the Church. I took the lessons from the Elders, and I asked my parents’ permission to get baptised. They told me that I could attend church but not get baptised. So I continued attending church and read Book of Mormon with my friend. After a few months, my mom started coming to church, but she didn’t gain her testimony yet. After two years I thought of being baptised without informing my parents.
One day as I was reading a message shared in the Liahona magazine, I strongly felt that I should ask my parents about my baptism again. I did, but my dad again said no. Then my mom spoke with him, and he finally agreed. I, along with my mom, got baptised on April 9, 2017—a most memorable day in my life. Because I followed the Holy Spirit’s promptings and asked my parents again, the Lord blessed me so much that my family members and friends attended my baptism. As the prophet Nephi described his feelings in the scriptures, “And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do” (1 Nephi 4:6). Similar were my feelings when I think about my baptism.

The spring of 1898 was not a happy one for Sonora Louise Smart. Her mother died in March, leaving her and five younger brothers motherless. Sonora must have wondered how they would manage with no mother to look after them, but she had no need to worry.

Billy Smart, her father, believed that fatherhood was a lifelong responsibility, and he didn’t take that responsibility lightly. After his wife’s funeral, Billy quickly assumed the duties of both father and mother to his six children. Sonora in later years described him as a “good home person” and a “Golden Rule type of father.” Billy Smart was a strict man, but he was also a loving father, who kept his children happy and together.

Sonora loved her father and recognized and admired his sacrifices to raise her and her brothers by himself. Her love and appreciation for her father inspired a tribute to him that eventually became a national holiday to honor all fathers.

Eleven years after her mother’s death, Sonora (now married to John Bruce Dodd) sat in church listening to a Mother’s Day message. It was a wonderful talk about the role of mothers, but she noticed that the word father was never mentioned. When Sonora thought of the sacrifices that her father had made, she felt that it was only fair that fathers be recognized in a like manner. After the meeting she approached the speaker and asked, “Don’t you think that fathers should have a special day of recognition too?” With that question, Sonora Dodd began gaining support for her Father’s Day idea.

The following year Sonora, supported by local church leaders, submitted a petition to the Spokane City Council. As a result, the mayor declared that the third Sunday in June would be observed as Father’s Day. Following Spokane’s lead, the governor of Washington made it a state holiday, and June 19, 1910, it became the first official Father’s Day in history.

Even though a day to recognize fathers had been declared, Sonora Dodd did not feel that her work was done. That first Father’s Day she and her infant son, Jack, traveled by carriage to deliver gifts to shut-in fathers in Spokane.

Mrs. Dodd next sought support from national politicians for recognition of Father’s Day. She wanted a designated day when people across the nation would be reminded of a father’s proper role in the training of children, in the safeguarding of the marriage tie, and in the protection of womanhood and childhood. And while her efforts to honor fathers were successful and Father’s Day was celebrated in many areas in the United States, it wasn’t until 1972 that the holiday was established by a congressional resolution.

Sonora Dodd devoted her life to honoring fathers, and her strong feelings about fatherhood were passed to her son, Jack. In 1952 one of Sonora Dodd’s proudest moments came when Jack was named “Father of the Year.” Nineteen years later, an even prouder moment came. Sonora Louise Dodd, the woman known as “the mother of Father’s Day,” became the first and only woman ever to be named “Father of the Year!”

In 1978 Sonora died just a few weeks before the sixty-ninth Father’s Day. This June 15, on the seventy-sixth anniversary of Father’s Day, her name will seldom be mentioned in connection with the day. But that’s the way she wanted it. She never wanted acclaim for her contribution toward the establishment of Father’s Day. As she often said, “Father’s Day is to glorify fatherhood and not to glorify me.”

When I was 18, I was living in Lima, Peru, where I was born and raised. At that time my father came across a good friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.
My father was impressed that his friend looked younger and was well dressed. He asked his friend what had happened to him to create this transformation. “Did you just win the lottery?” he asked. The friend responded, “Well, something better than that. Now I am a Mormon, and I want to share the gospel with you and your family.”
My father thought his friend was joking, so he said, “OK, if you want to send your missionaries, do it.” But this man was very serious about it, and within a few days the missionaries came and knocked on our door. That was the beginning of a wonderful experience.
The missionaries taught us about the Book of Mormon and left a copy for us to read. This was during the summer, and I was on vacation for a couple of months after finishing my first year at the university. So I took the book that afternoon after the discussion and started to read it.
Page after page I read and read and read, and I couldn’t stop. There was this magic that came from the book. I love reading and had read many books, but this was different. I was captured by the book, and after I had read for several hours, my mother said, “Juan, turn off the light! Your brothers want to sleep.” And I said, “Yeah, just a moment, just a moment,” and I continued reading. Even after many hours of reading, I had no hunger, no thirst, and no desire for sleep.
Illustration by Brian Call
Before I finished the book, I knew that something special was in it. I had a testimony because of three things that I experienced as I was reading the book for the first time.
The first thing that happened to me during those hours was a profound feeling of peace that was different from anything I had experienced before. This feeling of peace was with me for several hours.
The second thing I experienced as I was reading was a feeling of joy. It was not the happiness I was used to having when I was with my friends or when I bought something I really liked. It was not a feeling of happiness; it was a feeling of joy. As I was reading, I began to cry and I realized, “Wow, I like this!”
And the third thing that I experienced was enlightenment. When I first started to read, it was difficult to understand because there were words like Nephi and Atonement that were unfamiliar to me. But after a few hours of reading, my mind was opened, and it was like there was light in my mind and I could comprehend more and more as I continued reading the book.
I learned later that those three experiences are some of the ways in which the Spirit manifests to us. I had received the Spirit, and I was ready to be baptized, but I needed to wait for the rest of my family to receive their own testimonies. Finally on April 6, 1972, my mother, my sister, and I were baptized. My father and my other two siblings were present and attentive to what we were going through, and a few months afterward, they were baptized too.

Perla García calls them her tesoros (treasures): yellowed newspaper clippings of the Church’s early days in Chile, old photographs of visiting General Authorities, an aging Bible signed by some of the first converts, and other mementos of the nearly 50 years she and her husband, Ricardo, shared. They flood her heart with love, and her mind with memories.
When Sister García shows her tesoros to visitors, she cannot help but express gratitude for the gift of the Holy Ghost, speak with reverence of the missionaries who taught her the gospel, and recall with fondness being one of only a handful of Latter-day Saints in Chile during the late 1950s. The members may have been few, she says, but the blessings were many.
On 23 June 1956 Elders Verle M. Allred and Joseph C. Bentley from the Argentina Mission flew over the Andes Mountains and into Santiago to begin modern-day missionary work in Chile. “We were on our own. We had to stay very close to the Lord and depend upon him,” recalls Brother Allred, who now serves as patriarch of the Brigham City Utah Stake. “We felt like pioneers,” adds Brother Bentley, a Sunday School teacher in the Parleys Fifth Ward, Salt Lake Parleys Stake. “We worked very hard, but it was a great experience.”
Sister García met the elders while watering her yard. She invited them to come back after her husband had returned from working out of town. When the elders met Brother García, “he greeted us and cordially received us as though we had met before,” Brother Allred recalls. “Once we started talking about the Church, he wouldn’t let us leave.”
Their meeting turned into a three-hour discussion, during which Brother García was moved to tears as he listened to the missionaries’ message. On 24 November 1956 in a Santiago country club pool, Brother García became the first Latter-day Saint to be baptized in Chile. He was joined that day by eight others, five of them children. Sister García was baptized in January 1957.
Brother García’s agricultural work often required that the family relocate. When they found themselves in a new city without a branch, they would start one. Over the years, Brother and Sister García served in many Church callings.
“The gospel has been a great blessing for Chile,” says the couple’s daughter, Perla, recalling the joy her family felt by serving the Lord. “My father used to say that it is so beautiful to be laborers in the Lord’s vineyard.”
Ricardo passed away 26 September 1994. Despite illness, he spent the final years of his life serving as the Santiago Chile Nuñoa Stake patriarch and as an ordinance worker in the Santiago Chile Temple, where Sister García played the organ. It is in the temple that she feels closest to him.
“He was a very special man. I know he is waiting for me,” Sister García says. “I wasn’t happy to see him go, but my husband died a happy man. He said, ‘Don’t weep. I have finished my work and am ready to go. I know I will see you and the children again. Tell our brothers and sisters to remain faithful, that I love them, and that they should not be sad because I am happy to move on.’”

I give you an example of how this works. Let me share with you an experience of President Heber J. Grant. While he was a member of the Council of the Twelve, when asked by the President of the Church to submit names, he repeatedly submitted that of a very good friend of his for consideration to fill existing vacancies among the Twelve. The man was never chosen, and President Grant is reported to have said at one time that if he ever became President of the Church and there was a vacancy to fill, he would call that man because he was so well qualified.

After he became President and it was necessary to fill a vacancy, he told the Lord that he knew whom he wanted, but that he wanted to select the man the Lord wanted and would like to have. The name of Melvin J. Ballard, whom President Grant knew only slightly, came into his mind and kept coming to let him know that he was the man who should be called; and he was nominated by President Grant and approved by the Twelve.

Lauren had just finished her nightly prayer and started to get into bed when she noticed the hat. Chuckling, she picked it up from the desk chair where Sarah had left it. It was just like Sarah to forget her hat. She was always forgetting things.
Lauren put Sarah’s hat next to her own on the dresser. The two were identical, except that Lauren’s was slightly larger. They had bought the hats together at the first of the summer and had worn them all summer long. It was hard to believe that school would be starting next week. But there were still a few days left, and they had spent the afternoon planning just how to spend every minute until school started.
Sarah and Lauren had been best friends since before kindergarten. They had been in the same class every year in school. They both had red hair, brown eyes, and freckles. They both loved peppermint ice cream, the color lavender, the same books, the same games, the same music, and the same people. Everywhere one went, the other wanted to go too. They were almost inseparable.
As Lauren turned again to get into bed, Mom came into her room. Lauren’s smile faded when she saw her mom’s face. Something was very wrong.
“Lauren, I have something very hard to tell you,” Mom said, sitting next to Lauren on the bed. “This evening Sarah was out riding her bike with her brother. She was hit by a car.”
“Hit by a car! Was she hurt? Where is she now—in the hospital? I have to go see her right now!”
“Sweetheart, Sarah died instantly. I’m sorry.”
“Died! She can’t have! I was with her all day long. She left her hat here. We’re going swimming tomorrow morning. Then bike riding, then …” Tears streamed down Lauren’s face, and she shook all over. Her mind kept racing on: Sarah can’t be dead! We’re going to be in the same class next week. We’re going to wear look-alike outfits the first day.
Mom held Lauren tightly as she sobbed. When the sobs quieted, Mom said, “I know how sad and hurt you feel right now. It always hurts a lot when you lose someone you love. This is a very hard time for you right now. But remember that Sarah is surely happy in the spirit world. She loved Heavenly Father very much.”
“It’s not fair!” Lauren cried. “It’s not fair at all! Why should Sarah have to die? She’s too good—why couldn’t some bad person die? She’s just eleven years old—why couldn’t Heavenly Father take some old person who was ready to die?”
“I know it doesn’t seem fair, and we may never understand in this life. But we can’t change what has already happened. And we must learn, somehow, to accept it.”
Lauren cried herself to sleep that night. She cried all the next day too. She cried not only for Sarah, but for herself. She didn’t know how she could go on living without her best friend. How could she go to school without Sarah? She wondered if Sarah was missing her as much as she missed Sarah. Where was heaven, anyway? What was it like? Would Sarah have a best friend there too? A thousand more questions kept going around in Lauren’s mind.
The night before Sarah’s funeral, Lauren suddenly became very frightened. She had never been to a funeral before. What was it going to be like? What would happen? Would it be scary? She didn’t want anyone to put her best friend into the ground and just leave her. The tears and sobs started again, even harder than before.
As Lauren sobbed, she felt Mom’s arms around her. “Mom, what is it going to be like tomorrow at the funeral? What will happen? Does it hurt to be buried?”
Mom held her tightly as all Lauren’s questions and fears tumbled out. Mom was quiet at first, looking as though she couldn’t quite put her thoughts into words. Then she smiled through her own misty eyes and said, “You wait here, I’ll be right back.” A minute later she came back carrying a package of photographs. “Lauren, Dad picked these up from the camera shop today.” She handed Lauren a package of photos.
Lauren looked at the one on top, and there gazing back at her was Sarah. Sarah was smiling and waving. Lauren looked back at Mom.
“These are the photos we took of you and Sarah at our picnic last month, remember?”
Of course Lauren did. How could she ever forget such a fun day? She studied each photo. There were Sarah and she splashing in the creek with their pant legs rolled up. There they were climbing like monkeys in an old oak tree. How did Sarah keep her hat on when she was hanging by her knees in the tree? Lauren wondered as she looked at that photo. She started to laugh when she saw Sarah pulling one of her funny faces in the last photo. It felt so good to laugh again. For just a moment she forgot that Sarah had died.
“These photos aren’t actually Sarah, are they?” Mom asked. “They’re just likenesses. Even after a photo is taken of a person, that person goes on living. The likeness is left for others to see. Well, sort of like these photos, Sarah’s earthly body is left, but the real Sarah is living still. Unlike a photograph, her body will be buried, so you won’t be able to see it after tomorrow, but Sarah has gone on without her earthly body for a while. I want you to remember that tomorrow and always, Lauren.”
Mom went on to explain what the funeral would be like the next day. It helped Lauren to know what to expect. Although there wouldn’t be anything spooky or scary, she was still a little afraid. It helped to know that her parents would be with her.
Beautiful music was playing softly as Lauren and her parents entered the meetinghouse the next day. Lauren’s stomach felt empty and strange as they walked into the chapel. There were lots of people. Everyone looked sad. Lauren fought back the tears as they walked to the front of the chapel, where Sarah’s family was. Lauren held Mom’s hand tightly as she went up to Sarah’s mother, who had always seemed almost like Mom. When Sarah’s mother saw Lauren, she bent down and hugged Lauren close for a long while. When she stood up, Lauren saw tears and pain in her eyes.
“I thought you might like to have this photo of Sarah,” Lauren said, handing her one of the new photos.
Sarah’s mother’s face lit up with a smile as she studied the photo. “Thank you, Lauren. Thank you so much.”
Lauren and her parents sat down then. All through the funeral, Lauren saw Sarah’s mother looking down at her photo. As she looked at it, a small smile would cross her face. Lauren knew that the photo was helping Sarah’s mother remember that she and Sarah would be together again someday.
Lauren knew that Sarah was still her best friend. She would miss Sarah, but she was sure that Sarah was happy in the spirit world.

There are many ways one may help others find the Lord. The Jones family, in Raleigh, North Carolina, assisted the Lord by preparing a copy of the Book of Mormon with their family picture and testimony inside the front cover. They then invited the missionaries to their home to meet some close friends, the Browns. The next day the missionaries went to the Browns and presented to them this copy of the Book of Mormon as a gift from the Jones family. The Browns were so appreciative of the gift that they agreed to read, ponder, and pray about this marvelous book of scripture. They did. The elders continued to teach them. The Jones family continued to fellowship them. Today the entire Brown family enjoys church membership.

When the newly formed Lakeland Florida Stake issued the challenge to hold a Young Women basketball tournament, the Lake Wales Branch rose to the opportunity. But they had a problem. They didn’t have enough active girls in their Young Women program to fill the five positions on the playing floor. And having a couple of substitutes wouldn’t hurt.
The girls and coaches began asking friends and inactive members to join them. The girls were told that if they didn’t have fun, they didn’t have to stay. A team of eight was formed and practices began. Soon the girls learned the meaning of phrases like “set up” and “fast break” and learned to dribble without using both hands.
With determination and hard work, the Lake Wales Branch had a basketball team. At the stake tournament, their skills were challenged. It was the first time they had played together on an indoor court, and they had some trouble getting used to having confining walls.
At the end of the tournament, the Lake Wales team came out on top. They were the first Lakeland Stake champions. The experience of playing together and fellowshipping has made them winners.

When I was a little girl and throughout my youth, my father would come into my room each night and ask me about my day. I can’t remember much of what I said to him; I just remember that he would listen. He showed he cared enough about me to give his time to me. Because of that, I adored my father and trusted the things he said. Just by being kind and interested in me, he made me feel like I put the moon in the sky!