Gospel Story Finder

Only two hours after I had gathered the parts, some coming from as near as the trash can and broom closet, I was aiming my homemade telescope into the night sky. At first all I saw was a bunch of smeared blotches, but by moving the eyepiece in and out I was able to focus my telescope, and what a spectacle opened before my eyes! I saw four of Jupiter’s moons, not to mention the huge planet itself, craters on the moon, and the rings of Saturn. As the year progressed, I was able to see the crescent of Venus and the white polar caps of Mars. I even saw the white oval of our nearest galaxy, Andromeda, the nebula in Orion, and the Pleiades (a cluster of stars shining through some interstellar gasses). I saw double stars, the Milky Way, and many other beautiful celestial bodies. I even tried looking at the sun, but it didn’t take long (about a millioneth of a second!) for me to find out that looking at the sun is not a safe thing to do! I managed to get around the problem, without buying a special sun filter, by projecting the sun’s image onto a piece of paper. I held a piece of white paper behind the telescope, about four inches away from the eyepiece, and much to my surprise, there was the sun. It was a very bright circle with little black dots covering its surface. I later learned that these dots were sun spots, regions on the sun’s surface where the temperature is somewhat cooler.
The telescope I built was a very simple one. It consisted of one big lens that I attached to the front of a mailing tube and two smaller lenses out of which I built an eyepiece that slid into the bigger tube. The big lens was salvaged from an old camera, while the two smaller lenses were toy magnifying glasses I bought from the drug store. I even hammered three broom sticks together and made a simple yet sturdy tripod on which I mounted my scope.

I remember a critical time in my life when a still small voice gave me direction to make an important decision. My family lived in Boston, Massachusetts, at the time. I had been with a retail firm for a number of years. To expand the business, we merged with a larger firm. Within a matter of months, I found myself in a very difficult situation. The new owners wanted me to violate a trust. I felt that I just could not do it. They continued to insist, and I continued to refuse. Finally, in order to solve the disagreement, I agreed to leave the company. The timing for me was devastating. I had a wife who was seriously ill and required a lot of medical attention, a daughter away at college, and a son on a mission. I spent the next year getting just enough consulting work to pay our expenses.
After struggling for about one year, a company called me from California and invited me to come out and talk to them about working for them. I went and was delighted with the opportunity. I told them that I had to return home and discuss it with my family before I could give them an answer. I returned home and convinced my family that it was the right thing to do. As I was calling the firm to accept the offer, a voice just as strong and powerful as I have ever heard came to me and said, “Say no to the offer.” I could not ignore the voice, so I turned the offer down, but I couldn’t understand why I had been told to do such a thing. I went upstairs to my bedroom, sat on the bed, and opened the scriptures. They fell open to the Doctrine and Covenants, section 111. These words in verses 5 and 7 jumped out from the page and met my eye: “Concern not yourselves about your debts, for I will give you power to pay them. …
“Tarry in this place, and in the regions round about.”
A great peace came to my soul. Within just a few days, I was offered a fine position there in Boston. A few months later, I had the great privilege of hosting a conference in which President Harold B. Lee, then First Counselor in the First Presidency, was the featured speaker. The following July, President Joseph Fielding Smith passed away and President Lee became the prophet. Three months later I was asked to come to Salt Lake, where I received a call to become a General Authority.

A few weeks before leaving on my mission to Ecuador, I was ordained an elder and received all the responsibilities that come with the Melchizedek Priesthood.
Soon afterward, my mom and I were visiting some family members, and my uncle gave me a white missionary handbook, saying that I would soon be needing it. I thought he was referring to my mission—only weeks away. But that night my uncle asked me to assist in giving a blessing to my aunt, who was sick. I was surprised at the invitation but knew I now had the authority to administer to the sick—and even more, to help my aunt who was in need.
I immediately read how to give a blessing in my newly acquired handbook and was able to carry out my first priesthood blessing, feeling truly grateful in this new capacity to serve others.

Some years ago I accepted an invitation to a fathers and sons outing, where the participants spent an arduous but interesting day mounted on horses on a trip to Bloomington Lake in the mountains of Bear Lake County, Idaho. Late at night, after the campfires had all burned out and everyone had settled down under the open heavens, I lay on my back, gazing overhead. It was a moonless night, and I have never seen such a beautiful sight. The heavens were alive with the brightness of stars and planets. How small I felt in comparison to that vast universe! A sense of appreciation came over me as I thought of God’s glory, of his handiwork, the earth, the heavens, all created for one purpose—his children, mankind. That experience has remained with me. I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of it.

For most of his early life, the only sports Stanley Moleni played were rugby and basketball. But before his junior year of high school, after his family had moved from New Zealand to Hawaii, Stanley discovered football. “I fell in love with it,” he says. It didn’t hurt that he was naturally good at it too.

Coaches were impressed with his size. Stanley is six-feet-two inches tall, and at the time he was a lean 200 pounds.

“I was still learning, but by my senior year I started catching on and the coaches stuck me at outside linebacker. I was still only 205 pounds, and I was missing a lot of plays. I really didn’t know how to play the game that well,” he says.

That didn’t stop college coaches from showing interest in him—especially after he bulked up to 250 pounds. The sport he’d taken up for fun was suddenly his ticket to college. After a lot of thought, he signed a letter of intent to play football for BYU. But instead of enrolling in school immediately after high school graduation in 1994, Stanley moved to Utah and worked to save money for a mission.

“My whole life I was planning on a mission,” says Stanley, now known as Elder Moleni as he serves in the California Ventura Mission. “There was nothing that was going to stop me from coming on a mission.”

And that included the glamour of playing big-time college football.

Says Elder Moleni, “One of our investigators said that he really admired us because he knew we really believed in what we were teaching. When he said he admired me for coming on a mission and leaving my scholarship behind, it felt really good.”

And now just three months short of the completion of his mission, Elder Moleni is concentrating on the work at hand. Soon enough, he’ll be a college student and an outside linebacker.

“I’ll be behind physically. I know that,” he says about football. “But I see a parallel between my not knowing how to play football and missionary work. Through hard work and sacrifice I became better at football. And through hard work and faith in the Lord, I’ve had a successful mission.”

“Mrs. Ramirez, who is that?” Sydney asked, pointing to a girl sitting at a desk. She had never seen this girl in their class.
Mrs. Ramirez smiled. “That’s our new student, Yulia. Yulia just moved here from Ukraine. We’re excited she’s here.”
Sydney looked at Yulia. She looked scared. Sydney knew she would be afraid if she moved to a new country. That would be hard!
Sydney went and sat next to Yulia. Smiling, she said, “Hi. My name is Sydney.”
Yulia timidly smiled back but didn’t say anything. Sydney tried to talk to her, but Yulia just shook her head.
“She doesn’t speak English,” Sydney thought. “She needs help!”
Throughout the day Sydney was Yulia’s buddy. She showed Yulia around the school and helped her with classwork.
At lunch, Sydney asked Yulia, “Do you want to play with me?” She pointed to the playground to help Yulia understand. Yulia smiled and nodded. They played together for all of lunch recess.
Sydney began teaching Yulia lots of English words. She wanted to help Yulia feel more comfortable talking to people. Sometimes it was hard to understand each other, but the two girls soon became good friends.
In class a few weeks later, the girls were drawing a picture together. Sydney drew flowers and insects while Yulia drew grass and trees.
“We made a beautiful garden!” Sydney said when they finished.
Yulia smiled. “Yes, it is pretty. I like to draw.”
Mrs. Ramirez came over to their desks. “What a beautiful picture! I’m glad you two are working together.” She took their drawing and taped it on the class bulletin board. The girls smiled proudly.
One day when Sydney got home from school, her mom said, “Mrs. Ramirez called. She wanted to let you know that Yulia is in the hospital. She is having surgery on her heart tomorrow. She’ll be in the hospital for a while to recover.”
Sydney thought about Yulia the next day during school. She looked at their drawing on the bulletin board. That gave her an idea.
After school, Sydney told her mom, “I want to take Yulia something to cheer her up after her surgery. She liked drawing in class. Maybe we can take her some art supplies.”
“That’s a great idea!” Mom said.
Sydney and her mom bought a drawing pad and some bright crayons. Sydney couldn’t wait to give them to Yulia. A few days later, Sydney and Mom went to the hospital. They found Yulia’s room and knocked on the door.
Yulia’s mom opened it and smiled. “Please come in. Yulia is resting.”
Yulia turned as they entered the room. Her face was pale, and she looked tired. “Hi, Sydney.”
Sydney pulled out the drawing pad and crayons. She shyly set them on the bed next to Yulia. “I thought these might help you feel better.”
Yulia’s eyes lit up. She reached for the crayons. “Thank you! I really like to draw. Can we draw right now?”
“Sure!”
Sydney pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. The two girls laughed and talked together while they colored. Sydney was glad they had come to visit Yulia. When she and her mom left the hospital, Sydney had a warm feeling in her heart. She was glad she had helped make her friend happy.

After we had been married six years, I came to a knowledge that the gospel was true. There is no question in my mind that our previous efforts to serve and please one another were at least part of the reason Jim agreed to look into the Church and allow the missionaries to come. I was reactivated, Jim was baptized, and we were sealed in the temple a year later.
The next six years sped by quickly, and our marriage continued to improve with the foundation and application of gospel principles.
Then one night Jim returned home from an institute class and asked me about several terms he had heard there. “Do you know what these mean?” He spoke them, and they bounced against the blank wall of my mind. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” I answered. As we talked, a suspicion arose in us, awesome, even terrible, that we did not fully understand the doctrines of this gospel we professed to believe in—that our knowledge was shallow and unenlightened.
We started a concentrated study program immediately. We went back to the beginning again to understand faith, baptism, repentance, and the Holy Ghost. We chose vacations with the express purpose of studying together, weeks or weekends, in quiet places where we could relax, research, pray, and ponder.
Growth and understanding came in sudden leaps, as well as line upon line. Our efforts again meant selflessness, sacrificing other interests occasionally, in order to keep pace with one another and to share what we learned with our family. To drag a foot was to slow the rest of us, and neither wanted to be guilty of that.
Today, gospel study and service continue to be a central activity between us, a privilege, we hold most precious. As we look back, our first successes seem small now. But we will always acknowledge a certain ray of light that came one late winter evening to two desperate, seeking newlyweds. The gospel has reaffirmed to us that selflessness and service are truly a vital part of our Heavenly Father’s formula for an enduring marriage.

This is a question that my father taught me to carefully consider years ago. As I was growing up, my parents assigned me chores around the house and paid me an allowance for that work. I often used that money, a little over 50 cents a week, to go to the movies. Back then a movie ticket cost 25 cents for an 11-year-old. This left me with 25 cents to spend on candy bars, which cost 5 cents apiece. A movie with five candy bars! It couldn’t get much better than that.
All was well until I turned 12. Standing in line one afternoon, I realized that the ticket price for a 12-year-old was 35 cents, and that meant two less candy bars. Not quite prepared to make that sacrifice, I reasoned to myself, “You look the same as you did a week ago.” I then stepped up and asked for the 25-cent ticket. The cashier did not blink, and I bought my regular five candy bars instead of three.
Elated by my accomplishment, I later rushed home to tell my dad about my big coup. As I poured out the details, he said nothing. When I finished, he simply looked at me and said, “Son, would you sell your soul for a nickel?” His words pierced my 12-year-old heart. It is a lesson I have never forgotten.

Then a few days before Christmas, Jaanus met Enn Lembit, a 30-year-old bearded man. He stated, “I have a new testimony about Christ and what prophets say nowadays. Come to my house to hear about this wonderful news.”
“Imagine that,” Jaanus thought, “a prophet speaking to people on earth today!” His spine tingled as he and his friends went to Enn Lembit’s apartment for a meeting in November 1989.
At that first meeting, Enn Lembit explained, “My father-in-law, Valtteri Rötsä, was converted to the Mormon church in Finland. He returned to Estonia to his family with his pockets full of literature about the Mormon faith.” Enn’s eyes shone with enthusiasm as he explained the gospel message to Jaanus and others in that small room.
About an hour after the meeting had started, Brother Uusituba, a businessman from Finland, suggested they pray and ask God if this church were true.
Jaanus thought, “I feel really good in this home, and I like what he is saying.” When they prayed, he felt a warm glow and believed that the gospel was true. Jaanus took the news home to his mother, and together they attended the first sacrament meeting held in Estonia.
On December 16, 1989, Enn Lembit was baptized as the first member to join on Estonian soil. Jaanus and his mother were baptized on January 6, 1990.

Shelley liked seashells. She had a jar filled with them, and she liked to spread them out on her bed.
One morning Mommy said, “Grandpa and Grandma are coming tomorrow to celebrate Father’s Day with us. Would you please put your shells back into the jar and help me clean your room.”
As she was putting her shells away, Shelley had an idea—she would make Daddy and Grandpa each a Father’s Day present with her shells.
Daddy had given her one of his old belts, and Shelley carefully glued tiny shells all around it with some really strong glue. The belt buckle was smooth and flat, and Shelley glued one of her bigger shells right in the middle of it.
Shelley didn’t have one of Grandpa’s old belts, so she made him a tie clasp with a shell on it.
Then she asked Mommy to write “To Daddy with love from Shelley” and “To Grandpa with love from Shelley” on cards for them.
The next day Daddy and Grandpa thanked Shelley for her Father’s Day gifts by giving her big hugs.

Molly chewed on the eraser of her pencil, then looked beyond the desk’s cheery lamp to where the snow shot like barbed spears toward the pines. She thought of her ancestors crossing the mountains in such harsh weather and marveled again that they had survived. She knew that they had huddled around fires and in wagons or had built cabins to protect them from the weather. Still, it was hard for her to imagine foraging for food and firewood, and no warm, cozy house to welcome her home. Even now, a short trip to the store in such weather was uncomfortable, even knowing that she’d be in a warm place within minutes—not days or weeks!
Startled from her thoughts by a gentle hand on her shoulder, she looked up into her mother’s smiling face. “What are you doing up here all by yourself, honey?”
“Just working on my New Year’s resolutions.”
Mother glanced at the paper and nodded. “That does take concentration.”
Molly sighed. “I don’t want to write something, then not be able to stick to it.”
Mother shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t, either.”
“Do you have a list of resolutions, Mom?”
Mother sat on the edge of Molly’s bed. “Well, not a written list, but I know some of the things that I have to work on.”
Molly’s eyes sparkled. “Like what?”
“Well, like having more patience, understanding, thoughtfulness, and trust in God, for starters.”
“I have things like not fighting with Jeremy, cleaning my room without being told, doing my homework as soon as I get home.”
Mother smiled. “Those are all good resolutions.”
Molly’s shoulders slumped. “But will I be able to keep them? I mean, when Jeremy uses my things and teases me and my friends, I get so mad! And I like to have a clean room, but I don’t always feel like cleaning it. And I’m not always in the mood to open more books as soon as I get home. … I don’t know, Mom,” Molly added with a sigh. “Sometimes I feel like a flop.”
Mother chuckled. “You’re not a flop, honey. None of us feels like doing everything we should, when we should. I’ll tell you a little trick, though.”
“What?”
“If you include God in everything you do, it becomes easier.”
Molly smiled thoughtfully, then blinked and looked out the window again. “Yeah, maybe, like when I feel like blowing my top at Jeremy, I’ll think about Heavenly Father and imagine how He’d feel if He was standing right there, watching.”
Mother smiled. “In a way, He is, honey. He’s always ready to help us.”
Molly grinned. “Thanks for talking to me, Mom.”
Mother patted Molly’s hand. “Dad and Jeremy made popcorn. Come down and have some.”
The following day, as Molly trudged home from the store, she hummed happily. It was still snowing and still very cold, so why, she wondered, did she feel so warm and happy. Was it because it was the first part of a brand new year? Yes, she decided, that’s part of it. But a bigger part of it was her determination to keep Heavenly Father first in all things. She had started the day with that resolution, and things seemed to be going better.
She again thought about her ancestors’ trip across the mountains, and with a smile, she realized that although they had not had the conveniences that she had, they had put Heavenly Father first, and He had helped them in their journeys.
In the middle of her musings, she heard Gina call her name through the frigid air. Molly turned and looked back eagerly to where Gina was racing toward her with something in her hand.
“Molly,” Gina puffed as she reached her friend. “Will you do me a big favor?”
Molly nodded with a baffled expression. “Sure, if I can.”
“Would you give Mrs. Markwell this mail—please?” she pleaded. “The mailman left it at our house by mistake.”
Molly frowned. “Why don’t you do it? Her house is right there. Or—I know—put it in her mailbox. She’ll get it.”
“Mom said to hand it to her personally. She thinks that Mrs. Markwell’s pension check is in it, and that she’ll need it soon,” Gina replied quickly. “How about it—will you do it?”
Molly looked at Mrs. Markwell’s house and felt a nervous shiver go up her spine. Everyone knew how much the old lady hated kids. She seemed to go out of her way to scream at them—and for no reason at all! Molly swallowed hard and shifted the bag of groceries in her arms. She knew that Heavenly Father wanted everybody to treat widows kindly, but she really didn’t want to treat Mrs. Markwell any way at all! All Molly wanted was to leave Mrs. Markwell alone. Then Mrs. Markwell would have nothing to scold her about.
Still, her resolution was to put God in everything, even when it came to Mrs. Markwell. Reluctantly Molly handed the bag of groceries to Gina. “OK,” she said.
Gina took the bag of groceries and shoved the mail into Molly’s hand. “I’ll wait over by that tree.”
Molly looked at Mrs. Markwell’s house, then back at Gina. It’s you and me, Heavenly Father, Molly thought as she opened the gate. As she closed it behind her, she did so carefully, just in case Mrs. Markwell was watching—she wouldn’t like it left open. Placing one foot precisely in front of the other, Molly started along the narrow walk and tried very hard not to step on any part of the snow-covered grass. If even a ball rolled across Mrs. Markwell’s yard, she had a fit!
Ahead were the porch steps. Molly glanced back to where Gina was hiding, but Gina only gave an impatient nod at the house. Molly’s boots felt heavy as she climbed up the first step, then the second, then the third. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest as she reached the top and actually stood on Mrs. Markwell’s front porch.
She again turned and looked in Gina’s direction. Then she squared her shoulders and raised her hand to knock. Instantly the door opened, and the tall woman stared down at her. “Yes?”
Molly gulped and held the mail in front of her like a shield. “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Markwell, but the mailman left your mail at the wrong house,” she said in a rush.
Mrs. Markwell’s face broke into a faint smile. “Well, thank you for bringing it to me,” she said as she took the mail from Molly’s hand.
“You’re welcome,” Molly croaked. She turned and hurried down the steps and back along the sidewalk, whispering gratefully, “Thank you, Heavenly Father.”
When she reached Gina’s side, she was breathlessly giddy. Gina’s face was full of admiration. “You’re the bravest person I know, Molly Snyder,” she said.
Molly grinned and took the groceries from Gina’s arms. “I was scared to death.”
“You didn’t act like it,” Gina insisted as she fell in step beside Molly.
Molly smiled to herself, then turned and grinned again at Gina. “Did you make a list of New Year’s resolutions?” she asked.
Gina nodded. “Yes, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep them,” she admitted.
“Mom gave me a good tip,” Molly said. “It could help you too.”

Everybody loves Peanuts, according to Joyce Ensign, Logan, Utah. So she invited guests to a Peanuts party with Snoopy cards instructing each guest to bring his own security blanket and to come representing his favorite character from this famous cartoon series. The place was decorated with Peanuts posters, stuffed toys, and bowls of peanuts, of course. People sat on the security blankets and had a sing-along with music from “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.” Reading aloud from Peanuts wit and wisdom, and munching on frosted grahams and gigantic lollipops topped off the party.

For example, last November, Typhoon Haiyan hit the island nation of the Philippines.
A Category 5 super typhoon, Haiyan left in its wake extensive destruction and suffering. Complete cities were destroyed; many lives were lost; millions of homes were severely damaged or destroyed; and basic services such as water, sewer, and electricity ceased functioning.
Church resources were made available in the very early hours following this disaster. Church members living in the Philippines rallied to the rescue of their brothers and sisters by providing food, water, clothing, and hygiene kits to members and nonmembers alike.
Church meetinghouses became places of refuge to thousands of the homeless. Under the leadership of the Area Presidency and local priesthood leaders, many of whom had lost everything they had, assessments were made as to the condition and safety of all members. Inspired plans began to take shape to help restore members to acceptable living conditions and self-reliance.
Modest resources were provided to help Church members rebuild their wood-frame shelters and homes. This was not just a free handout. Members received training and performed the needed labor for themselves and then for others.
One resulting blessing was that as members developed carpentry, plumbing, and other construction skills, they were able to secure meaningful work opportunities as nearby cities and communities began rebuilding.

My big brother and I were sealed to our parents in the Provo Utah Temple. We drove for a long time to get there. When we went into the temple, Grandma Lee, who serves at the temple, and another nice lady took my brother and me to a special room. We listened to stories, had cookies and punch, and watched a movie about temples. Then we dressed in white clothes—I even wore a little white tie. The nice lady took us to the room where our parents and other family members were. When we were sealed to each other there, I felt happy. I know that our family will be together forever if we keep the commandments.

Rookies Kenny, Jacob, and Harlan may have made the Little League Angel Park Dodgers team, but they still have problems. In Making the Team, even though they ace the tryouts, they still have to prove to the older guys that they, the rookies, really are good. In Big Base Hit, Harlan is going to be kicked off the team if he doesn’t come through for it. Find out how the team got out of its awful slump in Winning Streak. In What a Catch! veteran player Brian will have to quit the team unless he can show his dad that he can play well. Jacob and Harlan are convinced that Kenny thinks that he is too good for them in Rookie Star.Dean Hughes7–11 years

Srilaksanaa “Sri” Suntarahut was born on 4 July 1924 in Bangkok, Thailand. Her father was doctor for the royal princes, and her mother was a friend of Her Majesty Queen Intharasaksaji. Sri’s family often visited the queen at the Royal Teak Palace. When Sri was six years old, the queen asked to raise her. This arrangement was made on the condition that Sri would be free to visit her family.
The queen loved Sri as if she were her own daughter. “I slept in the queen’s bedroom on a mattress in front of the queen’s bed,” says Sister Sri. “Since there were no screens on the windows, the beds were surrounded by a large silk net. Each morning I got up with the queen, dressed, ate breakfast, and read to her. After breakfast I went to a school taught by European nuns. I could speak only English while there. After school I returned to the palace, shared a meal with the queen, and again read to her. This was my routine for eight years. As a result, I developed a better education than many who have earned a degree.”
While at school, Sri would look at the English Bible. “In my heart I would say, One day I must read this book,” says Sister Sri. “But my family tradition was that we children should remain with our country’s religion.”
Sri lived with the queen until she was 17 years old. Then she went to Chulalongkorn University. Because of her excellent language skills, she became the financial secretary for a group of high-level government officials after World War II.
Sri was married and had a family when Elders Larry White and Carl Hansen met her in 1968. “I did not like the missionaries very much at first,” says Sister Sri, “but they kept coming back. I put the Book of Mormon on the shelf for three months. One night I decided to look at it, so I held it up and prayed, ‘If there is something good in here for me, let me know it.’ I opened it and read until I couldn’t read anymore. Tears came to my eyes. Then I held the book to my chest. Soon I went upstairs to my room and closed the door. It was the first time I knelt down and prayed. I cried and called out, ‘My Father, my Father.’ I knew He could hear me. I prayed and cried for a long time. When I got up, I began to read again without stopping.” Sri and two of her children were baptized on 4 July 1968, her 44th birthday.
The education Sri received while living with the queen enabled her not only to read the Book of Mormon in English, but also to play a key part in the translation of the book into Thai. The translation effort began in 1970, and Sri was asked to be the lead translator of the translating committee. The project was completed in 1974, and the Book of Mormon was published in Thai in 1976.
“Making this translation brought such spiritual strength to me,” says Sister Sri. “I love my Heavenly Father so much for pouring upon me this gift of tongues and language.”
In 1975, while waiting for approval of the Book of Mormon translation, she began translating the Doctrine and Covenants. The other members of the translating committee discontinued translating for various reasons, so Sri was the mainstay of the scripture translation effort. Though she went to her job during the day, she felt driven to translate when she returned home. Often she worked late into the night, completing a rough translation of as many verses as she could in order to have them ready for the daily meeting of the translation committee. Once she went with other Church members to help with a cleaning project. After several hours of hard work, others suggested she go home to rest. Sri said that she was already resting because if she went home she would feel compelled to translate and could not sleep. The translation of the Doctrine and Covenants was completed in 1979.
Before the queen’s death in 1974, Sri went to see her in the hospital. All of the ladies-in-waiting sat on the floor around the queen’s bed in order of their class. “The queen, who was in great pain, raised up to see me when I entered,” says Sister Sri. “She said, ‘Come to me.’ I stood near her. She said, ‘I still love you.’ I will always be grateful to the queen. Because of the many things I learned while living with her, I was able to read the Book of Mormon and accept the gospel. Because of her, I learned to write and speak in proper Thai language—the language into which the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants are translated.”

Elder Thierry K. Mutombo had a strong testimony of the gospel when he received his mission call as a young man. Baptized with his family when he was 10, he had witnessed the powerful way the gospel changed his family.
But even as he prepared to serve a mission in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan Mission, he didn’t have a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon. He had never read it before.
Thierry’s inspired bishop challenged him to read the Book of Mormon every day before leaving on his mission. He even gave Thierry a key to the local church meetinghouse so he could study in peace.
Thierry read every day for three months. By the time he entered the mission field, not only had he gained a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon, but he had also developed study habits that helped him as a missionary.
“The greatest tool we have to bring people to the light of the gospel and gather scattered Israel is the Book of Mormon,” he said.

I remember the story of one of our LDS chaplains, a man of great faith, devotion, and courage. For a year or more he had been in the central highlands of South Vietnam during the war there. …
He was not always a member of this Church. As a boy in the southern U.S. he grew up in a religious home where the Bible was read and where the family attended the little church of the community. He desired the gift of the Holy Ghost of which he had read in the scriptures but was told that it was not available. The desire never left him. He grew to manhood. He served in the U.S. Army. He searched but never found the thing he most wanted. Between military enlistments, he became a prison guard. While sitting in the gun tower of a California prison, he meditated on his own deficiencies and prayed to the Lord that he might receive the Holy Ghost and satisfy the hunger which he felt in his soul. That hunger had not been fully satisfied with sermons to which he had listened.
One day two young men knocked at his door. His wife invited them to return when her husband would be at home. These two young men taught that family by the Holy Spirit and they were baptized. I have heard this man testify to the effect that as he was taught by the power of the Holy Spirit, he was edified and rejoiced with those who taught him. Out of that marvelous beginning, with the gift of the Holy Ghost, came a shedding forth of light and truth that gave peace to the dying, comfort to the bereaved, blessings to the wounded, courage to the timid, and faith to those who had scoffed.1

At church on Sunday everyone was talking about the call to go to New Mexico. Brother Golden took me on his lap as usual, and while I brushed and braided his long red beard, he talked to Mama and Papa about the best place to buy a good cover for the wagon. I remembered the first time that he’d picked me up several years before, and I’d reached up to feel his stiff, prickly beard.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Can’t you get rid of it?” I tried to say. He must have thought my mumble meant yes because he just laughed, patted my head, and said, “You’re an angel.”
I wasn’t much of an angel, but maybe I looked a little like one because I had a headful of yellow curls, blue eyes, and a smile that made a dimple hole in my cheek.
When I went to Sunday School class that day my teacher was giving out red leather Bibles to some of the children who had 100 percent attendance for a year. I wanted one of those Bibles so bad I could hardly stand it, but there was no way I could get one now. I’d be gone in less than a month.
After class I went up to the front of the room just to look at the one beautiful book that was left. As I reached up to touch it, the teacher turned around from cleaning the blackboard and looked at me.
“You’re moving away, aren’t you, Dora?” she said.
I nodded my head.
“I’ll miss you in my class. I can tell when I see you listening that you are very close to our Heavenly Father.”
I nodded. She was right. I was close to Him. I knew He understood me even when no one else did.
“Would you like to have that Bible to take with you?” she asked kindly.
I bobbed my head up and down so fast I could feel my curls bouncing. She handed me the book, and I hugged it to me.
I reached up and kissed her cheek and skipped from the room, so happy I wanted to sing.
“Thank You, oh, thank You,” I murmured, glancing heavenward.
Papa made me a little wooden box with a hinged lid for my birthday that October when I was seven. It was to hold my precious things to take with me, he said. I packed it and repacked it many times, trying to find the best way to get the most in; but I never could get it to hold everything I wanted to take.
Papa and Mama were busy getting the wagon ready to go, and my friend Eileen was watching me pack the box for the last time.
“Where do you think the best place is for the chickens?” Mama asked.
“Chickens?” Papa said. “We’re not taking any chickens.”
“Of course we are. Three or four of the best layers and Caroline’s rooster, so we can raise some chicks in the spring and maybe a couple of hens to eat along the way.”
Papa sighed. When Mama had that sound in her voice, he knew it was no use to argue.
“I guess we can put them in a crate and tie it to the side behind the washtubs. You’d better put chicken feed on your list.”
“I already did.”
“I think I’ve figured out how to load the stove so we can cook on it while we’re traveling,” Papa told her.
“That’ll come in handy. Will we have plenty of water?”
“Four barrels: two in front and two behind. That should be enough to get us through the driest places.”
I carefully placed the soft leather Bible in one end of my box. Pressed between its pages were beautiful red leaves I had gathered from the autumn trees. I’d tied a string round and round both ways so they wouldn’t fall out. I dropped the seeds in next, in the little crack that was left behind the book: two red beans and four watermelon seeds and then the long strand of tiny glass beads I had strung myself. Sister Johnson had given them to me in a slim bottle with a cork one day when Mama was visiting her. While they talked, I had picked up the beads one at a time with the thin needle and slipped them along the thread, choosing the colors to suit me as I went.
I tried to fold the doll quilt small enough to fit into the box, but it was no use. I handed it to Eileen instead and indicated it was to be hers.
“For keeps?” she asked, and I nodded my head.
She rubbed it against her cheek. I’d made it by sewing together scraps from the new baby clothes, and I knew I could stitch another after we’d moved.
“Will the doll fit?” she wanted to know, and I answered by placing Henrietta on the soft bed I’d made with her folded flannel nightie. Henrietta was a beautiful painted-eye doll with china head, hands, and feet, and a stuffed cloth body. Some girls had shut-eye dolls, but I wouldn’t have traded because I loved Henrietta.
“What about those?” Eileen asked, pointing to the rest of my treasures beside her on the step.
I shook my head and handed them to her one by one—an old hat and pair of shoes I used to play dress-up, some more doll clothes, a worn-out Mother Goose book. When I came to the bag of marbles, I dumped them out, selected five or six of my favorites, and pushed them into the folds of the doll dresses in the box. The rest I returned to the bag and gave to Eileen.
After she ran off home with her hands full, I noticed again the pain in my head. It had started two or three days before as a tender spot behind my right ear and now was a sore and throbbing lump. I went inside to talk to Heavenly Father and ask Him to make it better.
By morning I was burning up with fever and crying with pain. Mama took one look at the spot I pointed to and said, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We’ll have to get you to a doctor fast!”
The doctor decided just as quickly that he should lance the boil, and before long he had drained it.
“There, doesn’t that feel better?” the doctor asked.
I tried to say it sure did, but he couldn’t understand my mumble.
“Can’t this child talk?” he asked Mama.
“Not too good,” she said.
He took a look in my mouth and said, “Why, she’s tongue-tied! This should have been taken care of a long time ago. It’s a very simple procedure.”
He explained to me that my tongue was fastened down on the bottom where it should not be. All he had to do was cut it loose a little, and then I’d be able to talk like everyone else. I couldn’t believe it.
For a few minutes life was wonderful. The pain was gone in my head and the doctor could help me talk. When we get to our home in New Mexico, I’ll be talking like everyone else, I dreamed. I can go to school with Ed and, best of all, no one will tease me.
I did not know yet that it would take lots of pain and effort before I could talk and years of hard work before we had a place of our own.
The doctor asked Mama when would be a good time for the operation, and she said, “You’d better do it now; we’re leaving tomorrow.”

A few years ago I drove to Temple Square in Salt Lake City to meet an acquaintance of the missionaries. Their guest did not keep the appointment. My response to the missionaries was, “The Lord will provide someone for us to teach.” In less than two to three minutes, two adult men walked through the front door of the North Visitors’ Center and directly up to us. They spoke Spanish, and we did not! We assured them the best we could that someone would be able to help them. In moments, the only Spanish-speaking sister missionaries in the entire mission arrived at the visitors’ center because they felt impressed to come there that morning!
Over a period of several weeks the missionary discussions were taught to those men, and they asked to be baptized. The Lord was true to His word. “An effectual door” was opened in the very moment it was needed for this beautiful experience.