Gospel Story Finder

Christian Mavinga, president of the Kigali-Rwanda Mission of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, undertook an arduous eight-hour journey on a hazardous road from Bujumbura, Burundi, to Baraka, South Kivu in DR Congo, to create a new branch of the Church on Sunday January 14, 2024. He was accompanied by Nuru Mirungo Salomon, first counselor in the Bujumbura District presidency, Lokwa Hoga, president of the Kalundu Branch, and Désiré Mpawenayo, communications director in Burundi.
Before becoming a branch on January 14, Church members in Baraka were organized as a group (a small congregation subordinate to a branch) for 10 years. A branch is a fully functioning congregation of the Church with Melchizedek Priesthood holders who are presided over by a stake president or, in the case of the Baraka Branch, the mission president. The first members of the Church in Baraka were converted in 2009, and since then the number of faithful has grown steadily.
According to the Church members in Baraka, this was an unforgettable day because the new branch was an answer to their prayers. “We say thank you to our Heavenly Father for this wonderful blessing that has been bestowed upon us after many years of perseverance,” said one member.
During the meeting, President Mavinga sustained the new leaders of the Baraka Branch. Trésor Amani Amani was called as branch president, Isaya Timothée M’mumbeleca as first counselor, Onda Joseph Asende as second advisor, and Venas Ben Rosen Byaombe as branch clerk.
President Mavinga said: “When we were on our way here, I asked myself the question, why organize a branch today after more than 10 years of the group’s existence here in Baraka? I know that it is not by my strength but rather by your perseverance and your prayers as well as the missionary work that you have accomplished, the Lord has answered your prayers.”
He continued, “The Church here was not going to continue operating under the leadership of the Kalundu Branch. This branch comes as an answer to your prayers and the efforts you have made in the work of the Lord. I bear you witness that the priesthood is the power of God. Our Heavenly Father has given this power here to Baraka so that you can act in His name, is this not a proof of His love? Through the priesthood, you will lead your new branch well moving forward. We bless the members, we heal the sick and it is through the latter that we prepare its children to enter the celestial kingdom. I urge you to continue to persevere in keeping the commandments, standing firm, and always strengthening your faith in Jesus Christ to receive the greatest blessing which is eternal life.”
Trésor Amani Amani, the new branch president, expressed his satisfaction at seeing the organization of this branch. He told the members that they have fought a great battle of perseverance for 13 years, “I urge you to tithe honestly and completely, to love one another, to remain united, and to share the gospel finally to spread this restored gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ.”
“Dear brothers and sisters,” he testified, “I know if we serve our fellow men, we will progress until we have a second branch, and a third. If we continue to share joy with others in unity through faith in Jesus Christ, through repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit, and persevering to the end, we will have eternal life. I know that the priesthood is the authority and power of God, our dear President Russell M. Nelson is called of God, all Church leaders as well as our dear mission president, I pray that when Jesus Christ returns and that he will find the members of Baraka rejoicing. I also know that if we read the Book of Mormon we will be greatly blessed.”

Eventually, I went back to my town and my branch. It was then that I decided I wanted to serve a mission. This was a difficult decision for me because I had nothing and would be leaving behind people I loved. As I was trying to decide, I read D&C 84:81 and 88, which say, “Therefore, take ye no thought for the morrow, for what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, or wherewithal ye shall be clothed … for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.” I knew the Lord would care for me, so I turned in my mission papers and was called to the Utah Salt Lake City Temple Square Mission.

Families are the backbone of the Church. They also are important in “Project Hope.” Lynn Curtis of Torrance, California, originated the idea of doing a benefit project for Orthopedic Hospital of Los Angeles, California, when he was studentbody president of Torrance High four years ago. Younger brother Dean has come along to be studentbody president too and has spearheaded the project, which recently netted $15,000. More than 100,000 people attended the super-festival. The entire Torrance High campus was turned into model regional sections of the United States. The state flags were on display, and special features of the areas were erected in miniature, such as a Coney Island hot dog stand, a hula hut, a lighthouse, and a huge mountain range for the Rockies. The carnival drew students together in a great cause, and the townspeople are glad there are Mormon boys to stir up involvement.

I’d like to see Geri again. I need to apologize.
Geri was one of the LDS students I used to hang around with at lunch time when I was a senior in high school. She and several of her friends would sit on the lawn behind the administration building where my buddies and I would often join them for some friendly banter.
Geri was almost always there, but it was almost as if she weren’t. She was so painfully shy, that even with conversation bouncing all around her, she wouldn’t join in. I never knew why, but Geri lived with her grandmother. There probably wasn’t much money to go around in her home because she didn’t have many clothes. Although what she wore was clean and neat, it was not the style of the day.
My personality was much the opposite of Geri’s. I was the group clown—seeking to milk laughter from every situation while masking my teenage insecurities in humor.
One day I noticed that Geri was wearing a rather heavy dose of perfume.
“Nice perfume, Geri,” I commented.
She smiled, clearly pleased at the compliment.
“Did you bathe in it?” I asked.
The moment those words left my lips, I wanted them back. I wanted that embarrassed, betrayed expression on Geri’s face to disappear. I longed to see the smile again. But the damage caused by that thoughtless comment was not so easily erased.
“Do you think it’s too strong?” she asked.
I mumbled and shrugged.
“Is it too strong?” she pressed.
“A little,” I conceded.
Geri looked away, and the incident was history. But the consequences of that event haunt me still. I was poorer that day because of my actions, and an innocent human being was hurt.
Life, for the most part, is made up of little things. Small acts of kindness or selfishness determine the depth of our commitment to the Savior and the quality of our lives. Some seemingly small acts can cause us considerable regret for a long time.
I have often wished during the years since that incident that I could find Geri and apologize for my thoughtlessness. I hope I would find that the years have been rich and full for her. I hope the light of the gospel has brightened her life and eased her burdens.

Cham Nap’s schooling, before he came to the United States four years ago, was very limited. As a child he attended kindergarten, but political unrest in Cambodia prevented him from attending any more school. In 1979, he went to Thailand with his aunt, uncle, and cousin to escape the war. There they lived in a refugee camp. Cham Nap has not seen or heard from his mother or brothers and sisters since then.

“In Thailand I went to school for about one month and learned to read and write a little Cambodian,” he explains. That’s also where his friends first told him about Jesus Christ and the LDS church.

Before coming to America, he and his relatives were sent to Indonesia for seven months to learn English. “I just learned the first words—‘hello,’ ‘how are you,’ and a few to use in the home.”

They arrived in the United States in 1981 and settled down in Salt Lake City. Cham Nap attended school with many other Southeast Asians at South High School. He had an LDS school teacher who invited him to go to church, and then she sent the missionaries to his home.

His friends in Thailand had told him the LDS church was a good church. “I heard that Mormons didn’t drink, and they went without food and water the first Sunday every month,” he says. “The missionaries taught me about the gospel. It made me excited because it’s so good. I wanted to clean my sins and be a good person.”

He had attended other churches, but he felt strongly that what the LDS missionaries taught him was true. He was baptized on October 23, 1982, in Salt Lake City. About that time he became friends with Delaures and Harold Harkness. Brother Harkness was a counselor in the presidency of the Cambodian Branch of the Salt Lake Park Stake. Cham Nap occasionally ate dinner with them, and they often gave him a ride to church.

During the summer, he would go to their home every Tuesday, and for half an hour to an hour he would struggle to read one chapter in the Book of Mormon. “We didn’t read a lot every time because it just seemed awfully hard for him,” Sister Harkness says. “I tried to explain what the words meant as we went along. Then we’d talk about what we read. It was hard for him to grasp at times.”

When Cham Nap first started going to church, he didn’t understand anything except for sacrament meeting, which was translated into Cambodian. But he kept on going because it made him happy. “Even though I didn’t understand in the classes, I felt the Spirit and I liked to go. Afterward I’d go to Sister Harkness and ask her questions and she would teach me.”

Cham Nap now lives with a foster family in Farr West, Utah. He is an eager eighth grader who wants to perfect his English, so he takes two English classes. It is still difficult for him to read, but he studies the scriptures regularly, usually for an hour on Sundays and frequently after school. “The words I don’t understand I look up in the dictionary,” he notes.

He has three church books in Cambodian, including Book of Mormon Selections, which he studies along with the scriptures in English.

Cham Nap says he likes to study and learn more about the gospel. “I want to be a missionary and teach people and make them happy. I want to share what I have learned.” Just like Ammon, the Book of Mormon prophet he’s reading about right now.

I share the story of the Laing family of Southern California. Sister Rebecca Laing writes:

“In the summer of 2011, life for our family was seemingly perfect. We were happily married with four children—ages 9, 7, 5, and 3. …

“My pregnancies and deliveries [had been] high risk … [and] we felt [very] blessed to have four children, [thinking] that our family was complete. In October while listening to general conference, I felt an unmistakable feeling that we were to have another baby. As LeGrand and I pondered and prayed, … we knew that God had a different plan for us than we had for ourselves.

“After another difficult pregnancy and delivery, we were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. We named her Brielle. She was a miracle. Moments after her birth, while still in [the delivery room], I heard the unmistakable voice of the Spirit: ‘There is one more.’

“Three years later, another miracle, Mia. Brielle and Mia are a tremendous joy for our family.” She concludes, “Being open to the Lord’s direction and following His plan for us will always bring greater happiness than … relying on our own understanding.”

I love the story of the golf addict who in a spiritual moment decided to take a new set of friends each time he went to play golf. That decision led to his inviting troubled teenagers from the inner city to come and learn a game of skill in a beautiful setting with clean air and clean company. Every golfing outing became a highlight in his life, not because of the game itself but the company he kept. Their gratitude knew no bounds and many of these youth were benefited emotionally and spiritually by the things they learned about discipline, concentration, coordination, and other things you learn when you gain a skill.

The afternoon my mother died, we went to the family home from the hospital. We sat quietly in the darkened living room for a while. Dad excused himself and went to his bedroom. He was gone for a few minutes. When he walked back into the living room, there was a smile on his face. He said that he’d been concerned for Mother. During the time he had gathered her things from her hospital room and thanked the staff for being so kind to her, he thought of her going into the spirit world just minutes after her death. He was afraid she would be lonely if there was no one to meet her.
He had gone to his bedroom to ask his Heavenly Father to have someone greet Mildred—his wife and my mother. He said that he had been told in answer to his prayer that his mother had met his sweetheart. I smiled at that too. Grandma Eyring was not very tall. I had a clear picture of her rushing through the crowd, her short legs moving rapidly on her mission to meet my mother.
Dad surely didn’t intend at that moment to teach me about prayer, but he did. I can’t remember a sermon from my mother or my father about prayer. They prayed when times were hard and when they were good. And they reported in matter-of-fact ways how kind God was, how powerful and how close. The prayers I heard most were about what it would take for us to be together forever. And the answers which will remain written on my heart seem most often to be the assurances that we were on the path.
When I saw in my mind my grandmother rushing to my mother, I felt joy for them and a longing to bring my sweetheart and our children to such a reunion. That longing is why we must teach our children to pray.

Bruce came into the kitchen, slammed his books on the table, and announced, “I don’t want to set any table, even if it is an assignment!”
The assignment to enter a table-setting contest was given by his teacher in a marriage-preparedness class, a class Bruce had liked, until now.
“I might do it if it wasn’t sissy,” he said, staring at my lace tablecloth.
“You can make it look like a man’s table,” I told him, silently wondering how.
The day the assignment was due, Bruce gathered together what seemed to fit his idea of masculine. He placed plain white stoneware on a black leather desk pad and used a black and silver desk lamp for the centerpiece. The tablecloth he used was a piece of grey flannel I had purchased for a skirt but had not sewn. The table was accented with chrome salt and pepper shakers and a black goblet. But the clincher was the black linen napkin knotted as a man’s tie.
His table, one of 1,800 entries, was titled “The Executive Lunch.” It was original because it was masculine and exciting.
Bruce worried about his “macho image” when he entered the table-setting contest, but he participated and became more aware of the beauty of a table set with care. He does squint sometimes, looking at the sterling silver he won as first prize, imagining it in the shape of tire rims.

Tom had traded his bicycle for a rabbit, and that’s why he was walking the mile home from Primary. His younger brothers, Ivan and Brent, had ridden ahead on their own bikes. They didn’t think much of Tom’s trade.
Giant cottonwood trees were dropping bright yellow leaves on the country road, and the afternoon sunlight touched them so they glowed like candle flames. Walking isn’t so bad, he thought. And it was a magnificent rabbit, a New Zealand Red doe, half grown. Tom thought about the luxurious softness of her deep, reddish brown fur, her round alert eyes, and her gentleness when he held her. He pictured himself at the county fair next fall, standing proudly beside the rabbit’s pen with a blue or even a purple ribbon on it. He could breed her with Jones’s New Zealand buck and make enough money to buy another bike, a shiny new one. It was a good deal all right, he decided.
Tom unlatched the white picket gate to the yard and detoured around the house to where his rabbit hutches stood under the big willow tree out back. He was trying to think of a good name for the new doe, something elegant. Suddenly he stopped, and his heart seemed to drop into his stomach. The hutch door was open, and the red rabbit was gone!
Tom whirled toward the house when something else caught his eye. Leaning against the hutch was the green bicycle he had given Lester Simpson in exchange for the rabbit. Tom looked at the bike more closely. The frame was bent. He lifted it and turned the back wheel, but it was out of round and stuck. The seat suddenly fell off its post, hitting the ground by Tom’s foot. He dropped the bike and ran for the house.
As he burst into the bright living room, Brent and Ivan jumped up from the couch. Tom could see by their faces that they already knew. “What happened?” he demanded.
“Lester brought the bike back and took the rabbit,” Ivan said.
“I can see that!” Tom said angrily. “If you guys were here, why didn’t you stop him?”
“He’s almost twelve, Tom, and he’s big,” answered Brent, who was ten and small for his age. Ivan, a year younger, was bigger than Brent was.
“I tried to keep him from opening the door,” Ivan said, “but he pushed me against the hutch.” Then he pulled the neck of his striped shirt down and showed Tom the scrape on his shoulder.
Tom felt a little calmer. He knew Ivan would do his best in a situation like that. “What did he say?”
“He told us the bike was no good so he was taking the rabbit back,” Brent reported. “And he said if you try to get it back again, he’s got four guys waiting to beat you up.”
“Lester said he gave you a prize rabbit and got a crummy bike in return,” Ivan explained. “You’re going to fight him, aren’t you? We’ll help you. We can probably get the Jenkins kids to help too.”
At that moment their dad came through the front door. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking at the three serious faces.
Tom told his dad what had happened. “It was a good bike when I traded it to him,” he explained. “I think it was worth as much as the doe.”
“More,” Ivan put in.
“His dad probably ran over it with a tractor or something,” Brent said.
“So what are you going to do about it?” his father asked, sinking into the big rocker.
Mother stepped in from the kitchen. “I don’t want any fights,” she cautioned.
“What do you think I should do, Dad?” Tom asked.
“In a situation like this it’s best to ask yourself what the Savior would do.”
“Did people play dirty tricks on Him, Dad?”
“They were always trying to trip Him up or trick Him into saying something they could get Him for.”
“He didn’t fight them, did He?” Brent asked.
“Not with fists. He fought with His mind and always came up with the right answer.”
All three boys were silent. Tom tried to think of some way he could get back at Lester, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do. Dad looked at him kindly and said, “Lester Simpson will be ordained a deacon next month. Usually he’s not such a bad kid. Maybe you can think of some way to make him realize what he’s done.” His father stood up and said, “Let’s eat; I’m starved.”
After dinner Tom went outside and sat in his thinking place in the willow tree, the huge branches spread out around him, warm and brown. The yellow leaves hadn’t fallen yet, and the light of the sunset filtered a red glow through them. Below him he could see the tops of his rabbit hutches.
All his rabbits were just regular white rabbits. They furnished his family with meat, and any extra he sold to the neighbors. I finally had a real purebred rabbit, he mused. Now it’s gone. Tom’s fingers could still feel the incredibly thick, soft fur and the sturdy little body beneath it. He thought of the warm, trusting way it snuggled against his stomach. Lester must have taken good care of it. Boy, how I wanted that rabbit!
Suddenly the solution seemed obvious and simple. He would just have to buy the rabbit. Most of the money he earned from his rabbits had to go for school clothes and other necessities, but he did have seven or eight dollars saved up. Dad will probably loan me the rest, he reasoned. After all, it is an investment.
Tom thought about Lester and his tough friends waiting there when he went to buy the rabbit. They’d probably call him “chicken” and “stupid” for not fighting, for buying a rabbit that had already been fairly traded. He guessed he could stand that. His brothers might think the same thing, though, especially Ivan, who was always ready to fight when necessary. Tom’s solution did not seem awfully clever or tricky but it seemed right, and he went to bed feeling fairly easy in his mind.
At breakfast the next morning, Tom told his family of his decision and asked Dad for the loan.
“I think you should fight him,” Ivan said.
“I don’t,” said Mother, “but you’ll have to be prepared for some ridicule.”
“I know,” Tom replied, stuffing toast into his mouth. “I can take it.” But inside he was not altogether sure.
“I think that’s a courageous decision,” Dad said, smiling. Tom felt a lot better.
“I’ll go over right after school,” Tom said, “so I’ll be a little late getting home.”
“Good luck,” Brent encouraged. Tom knew his little brother was relieved to get out of a fight.
Tom saw Lester around school that day, but he did not speak to him nor look at him.
After school, Tom and his brothers went in the direction of Lester’s house. Tom could see Lester up ahead with some friends. From time to time they looked back nervously. At the last corner, Tom told Ivan and Brent to go home. He watched with regret as they rode away on their bikes. The boys up ahead looked back and, seeing Tom alone, laughed and ran toward Lester’s house.
When Tom unlatched the gate, he could see Lester and his four companions standing by the rabbit hutches. Without looking at the others, Tom walked straight up to Lester. “I’ve come to buy that red rabbit,” he said.
Lester looked at his friends in surprise. “You got another broken-down bike to trade me?” He looked at his friends again, and they all laughed.
“No, I have the cash—fifteen dollars. I think that’s a fair price.” Tom looked directly into Lester’s eyes. Lester didn’t laugh this time, but looked down at the ground and scuffed his shoe around in the dirt. “Is it a deal?” Tom pressed.
“Well, Yeah … I guess so,” Lester finally replied.
Tom handed him the money, but Lester still wouldn’t look at him. His friends began to snigger quietly. “Boy, is he dumb!” one whispered.
Tom walked over to the hutch and opened it. He pulled out the New Zealand Red and tucked it up under his shirt. It snuggled deliciously against his skin, and Tom felt happy again. There was nothing they could say that would bother him.
Then they started in, “Guess he was afraid to fight.”
“He always was chicken. His dumb little brothers are too.”
“His daddy gave him the money so he wouldn’t have to fight.”
But now their laughter sounded forced. Lester said nothing, and he didn’t laugh. Tom walked out the gate and started up the road, feeling calm and happy, the rabbit held securely against him.
He was about halfway home when he heard someone running behind him. He turned around and saw Lester coming up the road. Tom stopped and waited and when Lester caught up, they walked along silently together. Finally, Lester spoke, “How come you didn’t fight? Your brothers would have helped you. You could have got some guys.”
Tom smiled at Lester. “I did fight, Les. I won. I got me this fine rabbit.” He patted his shirt. “What did you get?”
They walked in silence for a few more minutes. Then Lester reached into his pocket and pulled out the money. He handed it to Tom. “I guess I didn’t get anything. Here’s your money.” Tom stuffed it into his pants pocket. “My dad ran over the bike with his cattle truck,” Lester explained.
“Figured something like that. Sorry it happened,” Tom said.
“Yeah, well, that’s the way it goes sometimes.”
“This is a fine rabbit, Les. You must have taken good care of her. I’d like to get more rabbits from you when I can,” Tom said.
“Sure,” Lester smiled. “Anytime I’ve got something you want. Hey, I better get home. Mom’ll have dinner ready,” he slapped Tom lightly on the back, turned around, and started back to his house.
Tom tucked the rabbit up higher and walked home, smiling in the shadowy autumn afternoon.

I grew up in a fairly large city in western France. That's where I took driver's ed. The first few times driving alone, I felt considerable trepidation venturing into heavy traffic, especially on narrow streets. On the screen is a restored model of the popular Citroën 2CV, which is the type of car my family owned in those days. I learned to drive swiftly, in order to avoid getting hit, squished, yelled at, or simply to get a parking spot. As you all know, driving in Rexburg, Idaho, is a totally different experience and though I have mellowed out behind the wheel, occasionally old habits return. Such was the case about a year ago when, running late for work, I found myself having to stop for a moment behind a row of cars while the stop light above menaced to turn red one more time. I got a little irked, thought a few bad things about Idaho drivers; I even honked my horn. Eventually, traffic picked up and I made it through the intersection. Then, I realized what the matter was. To my surprise, I saw a man wearing dark glasses crossing the street holding a white cane in front of him and accompanied by a vested dog heeling next to him. "A blind man!" I shamefully whispered to myself. Immediately, my attitude did a 180 and I was overcome with compassion for that man and respect for the other patient drivers. Later, I thought to myself: How is it possible to be irritated and impatient one second and the next, be moved by gratitude and good will?

At the risk of great personal embarrassment, may I illustrate this important point with a story from my own life? When it was time to propose to Karen, I had everything all ready. I took her to a little, romantic French restaurant where we enjoyed a soft candlelight dinner. (That's always the best way to eat snails.) But I couldn't bring myself to propose because I was doing exactly what President Kimball said I shouldn't do. I was looking for some major manifestation. I felt I was entitled to it. After all, wasn't this the most important decision I would ever make in my life? Now here's the embarrassing part: I excused myself to go to the bathroom and while there I pleaded one last time for that visitation or lightning to come. Nothing. After quite a few minutes, (Karen insists it was longer than that) I returned to the table and we left. But as we were going to the car, I realized that I really had already received my answer. When I considered making her my wife, I felt at peace and it seemed right. When I pondered the prospect of breaking up or living my life without her, I experienced a cold, empty feeling and I knew it wasn't right. So I proposed to her in the parking lot, in the middle of backing up my car. What a romantic, eh?!

That same revelation that called Ezra to repentance was also directed toward other elders, including Edward Partridge, a bishop. Like Ezra, Edward had also been disappointed in the location of Zion. The Lord instructed Edward to move his family to Independence so that he could oversee the purchase of land for the Saints, but Edward wasn’t excited about living there. He was used to living in an established town. He wrote to his wife, Lydia, “We have to suffer, and shall for some time, many privations here.”4
Edward also disagreed with Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery about what land he should buy. Joseph and Oliver wanted certain tracts to be purchased, but Edward believed there was better land somewhere else. Edward had hard feelings toward Joseph for a while.5
But unlike Ezra, Edward didn’t allow the disagreement or his disappointment to drive him away from the gospel. Instead, he eventually asked for forgiveness from the Lord and from Joseph. “I sometimes feel as though I must fall,” he wrote to Lydia. “I fear my station is above what I can perform to the acceptance of my Heavenly Father.”6 He told Joseph that he hoped the Prophet could forgive him for the dispute because he was and “has always been sorry.”7
Edward and Joseph reconciled, and Edward stayed faithful until he died in 1840.

It was two weeks before Christmas, and the familiar stress of the season was upon me. I had presents to buy, a tree to decorate, and gifts to deliver.
For several months I had felt overwhelmed by the daily tasks that face a mother of five young children. I had even felt mechanical in my church attendance as I wrestled with my little ones on the bench. I longed for an increase of the Spirit and of spiritual experiences in my life.
About this time, my sister purchased a new home in a neighboring state and was trying to get things settled before Christmas. That would be a lot of work for any family, but for hers it would be even more difficult. My sister was eight months pregnant, a mother of two small children, and the caregiver of her quadriplegic husband.
Realizing the struggle she faced, I called her to see how things were progressing. She was optimistic about the move and hopeful that members of her new ward would be supportive. After our conversation I hung up the phone, wishing her good luck and wondering how I could help from 400 miles (650 km) away.
That evening, the thought kept coming to my mind that I needed to be there to help. But as I looked at my schedule, I dismissed the thought and went to bed.
The next morning, I awoke with the same prompting. The feeling was so strong this time that I could not deny it. I called my husband and said, “I need to go help my sister.” Without hesitation, he responded, “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
I called my sister, told her my plans, and booked a flight for that afternoon. I quickly packed my suitcase, kissed my children goodbye, and headed to the airport.
Over the next three days, I unpacked boxes, organized rooms, and helped decorate a Christmas tree. After most of the boxes were unpacked, I sat with my sister and her family, admiring their pretty tree. My five-year-old niece, pleased that her family was ready for Christmas, exclaimed, “This is going to be a great Christmas!”
As I flew home, I knew that by giving part of myself to this sweet family, I had felt the Spirit, which I had been yearning to feel. It came because I had served others.

Just two weeks after the group’s arrival, Joseph heard Church President Brigham Young issue a call for volunteers to go out and help the 600 members of the Martin Handcart Company still in the mountains in deep snow.
Joseph left that day with the other volunteers.
In the mountains the snow was almost three meters deep, and the wagons couldn’t get through. The volunteers had to carry the supplies on their backs to the handcart company. With the others, Joseph helped set up a camp to prepare the members of the company for the final effort to reach Salt Lake City.
Finally, all the handcart pioneers were safely gathered to Zion, where they went about the business of starting new lives.

In the Central Valley of California, there are 44 teenagers who will never forget the city of St. George, Utah, with its hospitable people and its beautiful white temple.
The youths’ 18-hour stay there was the culmination of six months of planning, hard work, and cooperation between the youth and adults of the Tulare Ward (Visalia California Stake) and those of the St. George Second Ward.
The moment the weary travelers arrived at the Second Ward chapel after their 500-mile journey, they were met by an enthusiastic crowd of St. George youth who immediately sought out, tagged, and friendshiped each California teenager. Together these new friends shared the experiences of that day and the next. The anticipation of their meeting and their bond of common beliefs seemed to create an instant, comfortable friendship on both sides.
After an official welcome by Bishop Ross Taylor, the young people toured the tabernacle built during the same period in which the temple was constructed. Everywhere there was evidence of pioneer skill, artistry, and devotion.
Following the tabernacle visit, the group toured the Brigham Young Winter Home and caught a glimpse of the life of that great prophet and the times in which he lived.
After dinner in the homes of their hosts, the youth met at the templegrounds for the long-awaited tour. A lovely scene met their eyes. To one teenage girl, Shawna Brown, “the temple stood out like a gleaming jewel, shining forth with the Spirit of the Lord.” In this small, quiet town was the most magnificent building most of them had ever seen, a great sparkling building surrounded by deep-green lawns, a building normally brilliant white, bathed now in the golden glow of a setting sun. As the young people joined the long lines of those waiting to enter, they huddled for warmth in the unfamiliar chill of the southern Utah evening.
Inside there was peace and calm and cheerfully whispered “hello’s” between the white-clothed temple workers and the awed young visitors.
“What impressed me most,” said Julie Peterson, a convert of one year, “was that the workers in the temple were so at peace and so nice. I want to work there when I become older. Most of all, I know that I’ll marry in the temple, no matter what!” Liz Myers, a young investigator, commented, “It was beautiful, just walking through. It made me feel so clean inside. It was a great feeling!” Michelle Meadows said that being in the temple felt to her “like a little bit of heaven on earth—it was so peaceful and so beautiful.” As the group was passing through the last sealing room, one of the workers whispered to Claire Forman, “This is where you’re going to be married.” She answered, “Oh, yes!” Now, recalling that experience, Claire says, “There is no way I would even consider marrying outside the temple.”
The tour was over too soon. Too soon they stood once more outside the great building looking up at its inscription, “Holiness to the Lord.” But the influence of those few minutes may never end. To David Anderson, it brought greater meaning to going on a mission, coming back to get married for time and all eternity, and living a righteous life.
“We realized,” said Ruben Ruiz, “that the temple is the house of the Lord and that it was built for a purpose. We realized that the work done in the temple is sacred and that you need to be worthy to enter.”
Following the temple visit, the combined fireside in the Second Ward cultural hall concluded the evening. Three young St. George couples related the strength and meaning that temple marriage had brought into their lives.
The final event of the trip occurred the following morning among the red sandstone cliffs of Snow’s Canyon. Never had pancakes—complete with juice, bacon, and eggs—tasted so good. Following breakfast, the youth—lured by the cliffs around the little tree-and-sagebrush-covered valley—clambered up the sloping walls, which seemed almost stair-stepped for their benefit. Campers who chanced to be in the canyon that morning must have been startled as the hills literally burst forth into song. The final rendition was “I Am a Child of God,” sung by the Tulare teenagers from their mountaintop loft to their bishop, who stood looking up from the sands below. It was an impromptu, heartfelt expression of their love for him that neither he nor they will ever forget.
As the two groups exchanged addresses and goodbyes—the St. George youth to return to what was left of their late October Saturday, and the California young people to their journey home—no one doubted that all were spiritually richer than before. Bishop Taylor said that because of the enthusiasm of the California youth in their desire to visit the house of the Lord, the hearts of those in St. George had been reawakened to a remembrance of the great blessing of the temple and the particular privilege of living within its very shadow.
The feelings of all might be best summed up by the statement of Tulare’s Laurel class president, Karen McPherson, as she bore her testimony in sacrament meeting the day after the trip: “Bishop Dredge has been pounding into us for years, ‘Get married in the temple! Get married in the temple!’ And now I know why!”

In 2018, at the age of 42, Thierry commenced service as president of the Maryland Baltimore Mission. His diligence in learning English while serving as a full-time missionary was now a necessity in his new responsibility. Thierry and Nathalie experienced miracles as mission leaders. On one occasion, in a tender and timely mercy, Thierry had a vivid dream. In the dream, he saw the footsteps of Jesus. He approached the footsteps and placed his foot inside one. It fit perfectly. He realized, that as a servant of God, he was following in the footsteps of Jesus.

Each time I have shared the following experience, it has been helpful to me, and hopefully it will be of value to you. My sister, just older than I, set this very powerful example for me. For many years, she had been the main caregiver for her husband, who had multiple sclerosis and whose body had come to the point that he required almost around-the-clock care. One day, my sister was not feeling well, so she went for an appointment with her doctor. Stomach cancer was diagnosed. It had spread from her stomach to her liver and other abdominal organs. It was inoperable, and she was told that she likely had a very short time to live. She never returned home again. During the weeks she was in the hospital, her temple recommend expired. When it appeared that she had just a few days left to live, while visiting with her Latter-day Saint cancer specialist she said, "I would like to be buried with a current temple recommend." He replied, "I don't think they need to use them over there." "Nevertheless," she answered, "I want to be buried with a current temple recommend." Her bishop and stake president came and interviewed her. She passed away a few days later, and she was buried with a current temple recommend. With that example, I hope and intend to do the same. I always want to live in such a way that I will be able to look my bishop and stake president in the eye and answer their questions honestly and appropriately. I always want to have in my possession a current temple recommend, and, as we are counseled by our leaders, to use it "as frequently as circumstances allow."

Make up your mind what to do in difficult situations before they arrive. For Andrea Bennett, 17, of the Douglas Georgia Stake, turning down alcohol and R-rated movies at her junior/senior beach weekend wasn’t hard at all. “A lot of people were drinking, but when they asked me if I wanted some I just said no. I didn’t even have to think about it. I had made up my mind long before that happened I wouldn’t do those things. So when the offer came there wasn’t even a doubt in my mind what my answer would be. It would just happen. And it did.”

One night my friend saw my scriptures and asked, “What book is that?” I said, “It is the Book of Mormon, the Bible, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price.” I read to him from the Book of Mormon. I showed him all the pictures, and we talked about them. I said, “Come with me.” I took him to our basket with copies of the Book of Mormon and gave him one. It felt good inside to share the gospel with my friend.