Gospel Story Finder

I plead that we will not procrastinate and that we will heed our Lord’s commandment to live the law of the tithe. I know of two missionaries who visited a very poor family. The family’s home was made of pressboard and sticks, with a dirt floor and no electricity or beds. Each evening the father, a farm laborer, spent his entire day’s wages on groceries for dinner. Departing from their humble home, the senior companion thought to himself, “The law of tithing will surely be a stumbling block to this family. Perhaps we shouldn’t bring it up for a while.” A few moments later, the junior companion, who had grown up in similar circumstances in his own country, voiced his own thoughts aloud: “I know the principle of tithing isn’t taught for four more discussions, but can we please teach it the next time we visit? They need to know about tithing now because they need the help and the blessing of the Lord so much.”
This missionary understood that “there is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” The Lord wants to bless this family and anxiously awaits their obedience so He can.

After I had investigated the Church for two months, the missionaries taught me about the law of tithing and invited me to pay tithing after I joined the Church. It seemed impossible with my limited income, but before I could tell them how I felt, we ended the discussion.
That Sunday at church, the branch president greeted me. I asked him about tithing, and he promised to meet with me privately after the meeting block.
When we met, I explained, “The missionaries told me that I need to pay one-tenth of my income to the Church when I become a member. I don’t know if I can do it.”
After listening to my concern, the president opened the Book of Mormon, turned to 3 Nephi 24:10, and read, “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse … and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” Then he said, “Brother Ko, look carefully where the Lord said, ‘Prove me now herewith.’ That is His invitation to you. Why don’t you try Him by paying tithing first thing next month and see if He will not bless you.”
Shortly thereafter I began my experiment with tithing and joined the Church. Since that time I have developed a new concept of money management. Most of all, I have learned for myself that God has poured out a blessing, and there has not been room to receive it. I learned that we must keep God’s commandments before we can expect His blessings.

As the Swiss movers were packing our household belongings preparatory to our return to America, the doorbell rang. A special-delivery mailman had a package for us. When opened, it revealed a green pillow with an embroidered message of love on it, the handiwork of Sister Alice Rusterholz. Our hearts and feelings swelled as we thought of this wonderful older sister. For four years she had graced our Sunday dinner table with her sweet spirit and lively sense of humor. For many years as a single, unmarried sister and the only member of the Church from her family, she struggled to come to church. Early Sunday morning she would leave her humble second-floor apartment. With great effort due to a crippled leg, she would walk down the outside stairway and on to the Küsnacht train station, beginning her journey of one hour and 15 minutes by train, tram, bus, and a final walk to our meetinghouse. What a blessing it had been for us in that beautiful land to pick up Sister Rusterholz every Sunday morning, accompany her to church, and conclude with dinner in our home before returning her to her apartment.

“Love your enemies,” challenged my Sunday School teacher one morning. “Do good to those that hate you. Then just watch what happens.”
At the time I received this challenge, my testimony was not yet firm, and I was skeptical about the practicality of this biblical teaching. It couldn’t possibly apply to my life. But I halfheartedly thought I might try it—that is, if I could think of an enemy.
After some thought, I concluded that I had no real enemies, so that took care of that. Then, suddenly, I remembered an incident. When we had moved into the end apartment of a row of four company-owned apartments, our outdoor water faucet wasn’t working. I asked the woman in the next apartment if I could hook my hose to her faucet to water my lawn. (There was no charge for the water.) She informed me that I certainly could not use her faucet and that, if mine was broken, I had better get it fixed and not bother her again!
Well! I would have no more to do with her! I was relieved some time later when she moved to the far end of our row of apartments. It would be just as well not to be next door to her anymore.
Now here was the challenge to love my enemies. She was the nearest person I could think of who would fit that description. Everyone else I knew was a friend. “I could try!” I thought.
Each day I hung out my laundry on the clotheslines at the end of the building, next to this woman’s apartment. She was always sitting on the porch alone. I had usually ignored her, but now I decided to prove whether or not loving my enemies would indeed work.
The next morning when I went to hang out the laundry, the woman was sitting on her porch as usual, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. I gave her a smile and said with a gay lilt, “Hi, there!” She glared at me and deliberately turned her head.
“That couldn’t hurt me,” I thought. “I’m just proving a point.” When I finished hanging out my clothes she had gone inside.
Each day after that, I merrily called out, “Hi!” as I passed her and never once got a smile or an answer. One morning, after about two weeks, much to my surprise, she walked over to where I was hanging wet clothes and exchanged a few remarks about the weather.
After that, each day when I came to hang out clothes, she came over and we said a few words—never anything personal. Sometimes we talked about the company both of our husbands worked for, sometimes the weather or a sale at a local store. I certainly never felt that we were friends in any sense of the word. She always seemed cold and reserved in her attitude.
Then one day my husband and I received word that we were to be transferred to a different locality. When I went out the next morning to hang my washing, the woman came to the clothesline as usual to talk. I told her that we were moving away. We passed a few comments about it, and I went back to my apartment.
About an hour after I had gone home, the woman appeared at my door. I was very surprised to see her. Neither of us had ever been in the other’s apartment. She had an odd, strained expression on her face. I invited her to sit down and we tried to talk a little. But there really seemed to be nothing to talk about.
Then, to my astonishment, she burst into tears, sobbing as if her heart would break. She said she couldn’t stand to have me move away. “You are the only friend I have in the whole world,” she said.
Me! Why, I didn’t even know her first name!
I couldn’t think of anything to say to my friend. I only knew that we weren’t enemies any more.
“Oh, Father,” I thought. “Forgive me for doubting your word. I didn’t really do anything for her. I only said hello and visited with her a little. What a flood of proof you’ve given me!”
I have found for myself—not only then, but many times since—that living the principles of the gospel in even the smallest way always proves them to be true.

As a teenager, Sister Kalombo Rosette Kamwanya from the D.R. Congo, now serving in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission, fasted and prayed for three days to find the direction God wanted her to take. In a remarkable night vision, she was shown two buildings, a chapel and what she now realizes was a temple. She began to search and soon found the chapel she had seen in her dream. The sign said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Sister Kamwanya was baptized and then her mother and her six brothers. Sister Kamwanya said, “When I received the gospel, I felt like a captured bird that had been liberated. My heart was filled with joy. … I had the assurance that God loves me.”

When I was 12 years old, I had an excellent Young Women leader named Sister Smith. She noticed that my friends and I loved to talk about all the popular music groups. We all declared that one boy band was definitely the most awesome music group since our favorite girl band had broken up. When the boy band came along, they stole all our hearts, and they became all we could talk about.
Sister Smith became concerned about us and our obvious obsession with these popular bands and their music. One Sunday, she expressed her concern. I remember speaking for my friends and myself when I said, “There’s nothing wrong with pop music, even if some of the words aren’t very good. It doesn’t really affect us.”
Giving me a skeptical look, Sister Smith said, “If you’re so sure music doesn’t affect you, let’s try an experiment.” She gave us all two crossword puzzles. Then she told us to do the first puzzle while listening to classical music. For the second puzzle, we were told to listen to our favorite pop music while completing it. We all wondered what she was getting at, but we agreed to do what she said.
The next Sunday, Sister Smith began by giving us the hints from the first crossword puzzle and asking us to give her the answers. We all remembered every answer. However, when she gave us the hints from the crossword puzzle we had completed while listening to pop music, we couldn’t remember many of the answers. That day I learned that good music could help inspire me to remember things, while music with words and fast beats distracted me and got stuck in my head, causing me to forget the things I had learned.
I learned that the music I listen to really does affect me.

A month or so after we were married, my wife and I were taking a long road trip in the car. She was driving, and I was trying to relax. I say trying because the highway we were traveling had a reputation for speed traps, and my wife might have had a slight tendency toward a lead foot in those days. I said, “You’re going too fast. Slow down.”
My new bride thought to herself, “Well, I’ve been driving for nearly 10 years, and other than my driver’s education teacher, no one ever told me how to drive before.” So she replied, “What gives you the right to tell me how to drive?”
Frankly, her question caught me off guard. So, doing my best to step up to my new responsibilities as a married man, I said, “I don’t know—because I’m your husband and I hold the priesthood.”
Brethren, just a quick tip: if you are ever in a similar situation, that is not the right response. And I’m happy to report, it was the one and only time I ever made that mistake.

May 12. At school today some children were being mean to Billy. They were calling him names and saying unkind things. Especially Cory and Timmy. It’s because Billy is, well, different. Mom says he’s “mentally challenged.” He has a harder time learning than most children his age. But he can still go to the same school as everyone else. The teachers just help him a little more.
Anyway, I remembered what Dad had taught in family home evening, so I sat with Billy at lunch today and shared my sandwich with him. His sandwich and potato chips were soaked. Cory and Timmy had filled his lunch box full of water, then laughed and said, “We’re doing you a favor, Billy. We know you have a hard time doing things. Your lunch should go down real easy—you won’t have to chew it at all!”
May 20. Billy asked me if I wanted to go with him on his paper route after school. The other guys wanted me to play ball. So did I, but something inside me said that going with Billy was more important.
We rode our bikes. I helped carry some of the papers in a sack. Afterward, Billy bought me a soda pop. Then we went across the street and lay on the grass in the park. After a while he asked me why I wanted to be his friend, why I liked to do stuff with him. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I told him, “I guess I just like you, that’s all.”
He looked sad. “Is it because you feel sorry for me because I’m … different? Some people make fun of me because I can’t do things like other people. And some are nice because they feel sorry for me.”
I told him that I get mad when other people treat him unkindly and that at first maybe that was why I wanted to be nice. “But after a while, I started liking you because you’re you,” I said. “I like how you sound when you laugh. It makes me feel happy inside. And I like how you treat other living things. Even little things. Like the pollywogs in the creek behind the school last week. You felt bad because the sun was drying up the little ponds of water, so you put the tadpoles in that applesauce jar and moved them farther up the creek where it was deeper. Most people aren’t that kind,” I told him. “You remind me of Jesus.” His eyes got full of tears, and he didn’t say anything. He just tapped me on the arm with his fist and kept looking the other way.
June 7. Billy’s mother called me and asked if I wanted to come over and have dinner with them tonight. Billy was too shy to ask, she said, and wanted her to ask me. (Mom and Dad said it would be fine.) She also said that Billy can’t stop talking about me, that the past few weeks he’s been happier than she can ever remember. “He thinks the world of you,” she said, and she thanked me for being so good to him.
I could tell that she was crying, because her voice started breaking up. I told her that it was easy to like Billy because he was so good. I didn’t tell her, but I had been starting to feel happier inside myself than I had in a long time, and I was already happy. Dad says, “When we open our hearts to others, like Jesus did, we feel a whole different kind of joy.”
June 18. Today Billy and I saved a wild bird. A big kid named Donny, who lives close to Billy’s place, caught it and was going to hurt it. We started yelling at him, and it made him jump and the bird got away. He pushed us down, but we felt so good on the inside that it made what he did to us on the outside kind of not matter.
July 11. Our family got back this morning from a three-day trip to Buck’s Lake. I called Billy to see if we could get together, maybe go to a Saturday matinee or hike in the hills or something. His mother said he could not play … because he’d died two days ago. She began to cry, and Billy’s father got on the phone. He told me that Billy had seen a neighbor’s puppy in the street, and when he ran out to carry it to where it would be safe, he’d been hit by a car. It wasn’t the driver’s fault, Billy’s dad said. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just happened. I asked Dad if he could give me a blessing of comfort. I guess I’m having a hard time dealing with it.
July 12. I didn’t go to Billy’s funeral today. I just couldn’t. His parents said that they understood. I know that after we die, we will see our loved ones again, and, I believe, our close friends, too. But right now I miss him so bad! We were like brothers. I guess we are brothers. Spirit brothers. And blood brothers. I know we’re spirit brothers because we are all Heavenly Father’s children. And I know we’re blood brothers because we sat under the old fig tree in the field one day and made a pact.
Maybe we can play together in the next life. There might be creeks with tadpoles, but in heaven I’m sure there will always be enough water. Maybe a fence to sit on. And clouds to watch go by.
I know Billy’s happy where he is because he was always more of heaven than of earth. But right now I miss him so much! I will never forget him. Not ever. My mom says I will always have the memories, and so, in a sense, he will always be with me. Memories are eternal, she says, like our spirits. I guess I will always hear his laughter, then. I like that.
July 14. Billy’s parents came over today. They told me how much they appreciated what I did for him. They said that I had made the last part of his life happy and meaningful. “You were a gift from God to him,” they said. I couldn’t say anything back because it’s hard to cry and talk at the same time.
After a while, I told them that Billy was a gift from God to me. That he taught me by the way he lived the things Jesus teaches us. About loving. And caring. And showing kindness to all living things.
July 25. I checked on the tadpoles in the creek today. That’s what Billy would have done. They are doing fine. And so am I.

Mom also taught me to be mindful of others. On my first day of kindergarten, she took me to my class, pointed to the teacher, and said, “Look! You get to be in Mrs. Merrill’s class. Your brother Rick was in her class last year. She’s a very nice teacher.” This relieved some of my nervousness. Then Mom saw another little girl sobbing with her face buried in her arms. Mom whispered, “Go be her friend.” I did. When the girl stopped crying, I noticed that Mom had left. But I wasn’t nervous anymore.

Las Vegas, Nevada, is a city often known for its less-than-wholesome environment. But there are youth there who know how to have a fun time without compromising their standards. That’s why they love having a great dance to go to. A “Mormon prom” was organized in their area three years ago and has continued to grow—with youth from 10 stakes participating in 2012.
The stakes also offer several pre-dance activities, including a meet-and-greet, a dating boot camp that teaches proper dating etiquette, a dress swap where young women can borrow a dress for the dance, and dance instruction.
On the night of the dance, families in the participating stakes host three or more couples for dinner. Then the youth go to the formal dance, where they have a good time dancing and socializing. About 800 LDS youth and 70 of their nonmember friends attended the most recent event.
The youth who attended had positive reactions. “It was magical. When I walked in, it took my breath away,” says Ashlyn E. “I will never forget it.”
Bekah O. says, “I didn’t want to go at first, but I’ve never had so much fun in my whole life. I can’t wait until next year!”

Indexing also affected my family. My father works in the Church’s Family History Department. When he saw me doing indexing, I could see a spark of excitement go through him. I learned more about his work, and we spent quality time together. Later, I taught my mom how to index and helped with workshops for ward members. After I had finished my 10-hour value project, I found myself still indexing. In about two and a half months, I was able to get over a thousand records done.

After a small accident, I have to use a cane, and I walk slowly. Stairs are very hard for me. At church I always felt scared of falling down the steps—until that Sunday when I heard a soft voice and felt a little hand holding mine: “Come on. I’ll go with you.”
I looked down and saw nine-year-old Gabriel’s confident smile.
“Very well!” I said. “From now on, you are my helper. Let’s go!”
No one sent Gabriel. He just saw a grandma needing help and presented himself.
Now each Sunday, Gabriel and I go down the stairs without fear.
I later told Gabriel’s parents: “It is not physical strength that makes me unafraid. It is the bucketful of love that he gives me each Sunday. Gabriel is a giant of kindness!”

When he came to Ghana, his closest friends, family and even his mother thought he was going insane. They asked, “Why would you abandon your studies and come back to Ghana simply because you have met the Church?” He explained that he was taught the gospel of Jesus Christ and he wanted everyone to join. They didn’t understand and many spoke ill about him.
The family lived in Mankessim, in the central region about 1 ½ hour’s drive from Cape Coast. Alison said, “Later we moved to Yamoransa because my daddy had learned that the Church was there, and our family could go to church every Sunday.” The family stayed there for 1 year and Abraham got a job teaching geography at Adisadal College, a secondary school in Cape Coast.
While there, the Abura Branch was formed, and he was made the branch president. The children were all baptized in a river in Mankessim. His next idea was to get his mother and siblings to join the Church. He left Cape Coast and moved to Assin Fosu which is on the Cape Coast Kumasi Highway and is closer to their hometown. “My father went to his hometown almost every day trying to teach them. He wanted them to join so badly,” she said and added “at first, things didn’t go so well. They were heavily involved in their churches. His brothers were in the choir and without them the church would not be as nice. His mother was the treasurer of the women’s group.”
He would fast almost every week for his family. Eventually, his mother, then brothers, then aunts joined the church until about 95 percent of all his family members were part of the Church.
His next goal was to set up an orphanage and school. He adopted 78 of the children and about 40 of them went on missions. Alison and her sisters also served missions.
Alison has a strong admiration for her father. “He is very generous, honest, forgiving and spiritual”, she says, “He was a district president while he served as a parliamentarian. He would drive 4-5 hours each weekend so that he could be back for church”.
She also relates this story about her father:
“One time when I was at home, a man came to the door asking for my father. He was not around. The man gave me an envelope and asked me to give it to him. I thought it was a letter, so I took it and put it under his pillow, which is what we always did with anything that came for him. When he got home and found that envelope, he was very upset, and I heard him screaming from the bedroom. He said, ‘Who put this under my pillow?’
“I told him I had done it. He said, ‘You are my first born and I would expect you to know better’.
“I did not understand what I had done. He said, ‘Take this and give it back to the owner, he is not going to take care of me and my family’.”
“I still did not understand and asked him to explain. He told me it contains money. The man had a problem with his land and my father was trying to help him. The following morning the man came and asked me if I had given my father the money. I told him that if he had told me yesterday that it was a bribe he wanted to give to my father I would have warned him against doing that. I told him that my father was very angry and did not ever want him to enter his office again. If he was the rightful owner of the land, my father would help him without accepting money.”
“When it was time for me to go back to the town where I taught. I asked him if I could use one of his office cars to take me there since he was the district chief executive. He said, ‘the cars at my office are not for family use, they are government cars. I will help you pay for a taxi if you don’t have enough money.’”
Alison shared more thing about her father. “Because he would not be dishonest, some people wanted him out of office. One morning we woke up and there was a can of petrol in front of our house with matches on it. A week later a guy came on his knees apologizing. He said he was hired to burn our house. He had come one night, and it looked like our whole house was sparkling and it scared him, so he ran away. I believe it was an angel of the Lord that stopped him from burning our house down.”
In October 2019, Abraham returned to the United States. One Sunday, he was teaching a lesson at church. There was a man in the class that got up and went out. Unknown to Abraham, this man was a doctor and had called an ambulance. He recognized that Abraham was exhibiting signs of a stroke. The family is so grateful their father went to church that day and that the doctor was there too. Even though he is currently down with a stroke and uses a wheelchair, he still sees himself as blessed and he’s forever grateful to Heavenly Father.
Many people joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because of Abraham Kwaku Fokuo. His legacy runs deep within the Church and in the communities in which he has lived.

Elder James E. Talmage, a man who is remembered for his doctrinal teachings, showed great kindness to a neighbor family in distress. They were complete strangers to him. Before he was an Apostle, as a young father he became aware of great suffering at a neighbor’s home whose large family was stricken with the dreaded diphtheria. He did not care that they were not members of the Church; his kindness and charity moved him to act. The Relief Society was desperately trying to find people to help, but no one would because of the contagious nature of the disease.
When he arrived, James found one toddler already dead and two others who were in agony from the disease. He immediately went to work, cleaning the untidy house, preparing the young body for burial, cleaning and providing for the other sick children—spending the entire day doing so. He came back the next morning to find that one more of the children had died during the night. A third child was still suffering terribly. He wrote in his journal: “She clung to my neck, … ofttimes coughing [germs] on my face and clothing, … yet I could not put her from me. During the half hour immediately preceding her death, I walked the floor with the little creature in my arms. She died in agony at 10 a.m.” The three children had all departed within the space of 24 hours. He then assisted the family with the burial arrangements and spoke at the graveside services. This he did all for a family of strangers. What a great example of Christlike kindness!

“Wider, please.”
Lane was reluctant to show the tartar on his teeth to the cute, new dental assistant, but he had no choice. She pulled the overhead light closer. He admired her green eyes, all he could see of her face. The rest was hidden behind the surgical mask. He watched her gloved fingers juggle the little dental pick and mirror as she scraped at his teeth.
Lane was relieved to see that Rhonda, the regular assistant who had worked there for years, was not there. She was an older woman who had always been very nice to him, but she had a horrible case of dandruff and he could see the flakes all too clearly whenever she bent her head over his open mouth.
“You must be new,” he managed to say to the assistant. It was obvious, but it was all he could think of to say. “I’ve been coming to Dr. Hodges since I was a little boy, and I’ve never seen you here.”
“Mmmm,” she said, concentrating. “Just moved here. How often do you floss?”
“Uh, well, maybe a few times a month. I kind of forget to do it every day,” he admitted. Now he regretted being so lax with his flossing. He was probably not making a very good impression. He would have to hurry to change that. Once Dr. Hodges injected the anesthetic, his mouth would go numb. It would be impossible to impress her with a lopsided smile and garbled speech. He wondered how he could let her know that he had made the winning basket last year in the high school playoffs without seeming arrogant.
He missed his chance. The assistant squirted his mouth and suctioned the water out, dabbed his face with the paper bib pinned around his neck, then left. He heard his little brother Evan talking to her from the cubicle next to his. Evan would talk her leg off. Dad had predicted that Evan would grow up to be either a police negotiator or an auctioneer.
“Hey, my brother has to get his teeth fixed, and he already had a whole bunch of shots. I don’t think he cried. He’s getting a short haircut, and my mom and dad bought him a bunch of suits and ties.”
“Wow,” was all the assistant said, in a dull-sounding tone. She told Evan, “I’m putting some of this cleaning stuff on your teeth. It’s a little gritty, like sand, but it tastes like cherries. I’ll use this little tool and scrub your teeth with it, okay?”
“Oh, that’s like the cleanser I use on the bathtub on Saturday when I do my Saturday jobs. Except it tastes better.” There was a pause, and then Evan said, “Not that I ever ate cleanser. Yuck!”
It was quiet while the assistant scrubbed his teeth, but as soon as Evan’s mouth was free, Lane could hear him talking again.
Dr. Hodges came in. For a moment, Lane was distracted while the dentist examined his teeth and got ready to give him the anesthetic.
Lane could hear Evan as he continued to talk. “I’m getting baptized next Saturday. I’m eight, so I’m old enough because I mostly know how to tell right from wrong. Baptisms are in a big font like a warm swimming pool. I guess it’s like a bath for my spirit. Hey, you can come if you want. It’s at seven on Saturday night at Westbrook chapel, just a couple blocks from my house.”
Lane was thinking, Come up for air, buddy, even as his eyes squinted in pain as Dr. Hodges nestled the needle into the back of his mouth.
Evan kept talking. “My brother’s going on a mission. It’s for our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some people call us Mormons because we have the Book of Mormon. It’s kind of like the Bible, but we read the Bible, too. Anyway, my brother will go to Argentina and baptize people there after he teaches them about the gospel. They put on white clothes and go under the water too. Nobody drowns,” he added.
Then Evan said, “He’ll be gone a long time. Two whole years. And nobody pays him. He usually doesn’t do things for free.” Lane could hear a smile in Evan’s voice when he said, “And I get his room.”
Dr. Hodges chuckled and said, “Your little brother’s quite a talker.” All Lane could say, with his mouth full of anesthetic, was, “Tell me about it.”
In the next cubicle, the assistant said, “Evan, we’re all done. If you want, you can wait for your brother here.”
“Okay,” Evan answered cheerfully. “I brought my Friend with me. Do you get the Friend?” Without waiting for her to answer, he continued, “I don’t think the dentist gets it because I didn’t see it with the magazines in the waiting room.”
Lane didn’t think the assistant understood Evan because she said, “Your friend, huh? What’s his name?”
Evan patiently explained, “No, the Friend isn’t a person; it’s a magazine for kids about my church. There are magazines for big people, too. You can look at mine and see what’s in it. There are stories and games. I was trying to find all the stuff hidden in this picture.”
Lane could hear the assistant putting instruments away and moving around in the cubicle. Lane’s attention quickly became focused on his own mouth as Dr. Hodges carefully drilled out his cavities and applied the fillings.
Evan was still talking. “My brother is going to explain about the Church on his mission to people like you who don’t know about it. You’d really like it. We learn about Jesus and how to be like him. I have my own Book of Mormon, but my grandma will give me a brand-new one with gold on the edges and my name on it when I get baptized. I think the dentist needs one in his waiting room. He can have my old one. I brought it to read the part about Jesus coming to America. My dad marked the place for me.”
Finally, the appointment was over. Lane tried one last time to talk to the assistant. “Sorry about my little brother,” he said, flashing his clean teeth in what he hoped was a brilliant smile, though he could feel only half his mouth curve upward. “He’s really a chatterbox.”
“No problem,” the girl said. “I think he’s cute.”
Lane refrained from asking what she thought of Evan’s older brother, though he was tempted. He hoped she thought he was cute, too.
She said, “Going to Argentina, huh?”
“Yes,” Lane said, quickly adding, “I’ll only be gone for two years. Do you plan to work here for a while?” She smiled and left to clean more teeth.
Evan picked out a toy dinosaur from the dentist’s treasure chest, then told Dr. Hodges, “I’m leaving you this book for your waiting room.” He held out his Book of Mormon to show him. “It doesn’t cost you anything.”
Dr. Hodges looked puzzled but nodded his consent and then went to attend to a patient.
On the way home, Evan suggested they stop at the store for some candy, but Lane said no. “You want to undo all the work we just had done? That’s how you get cavities! You keep it up and the only thing you’ll be able to eat will be soup.”
They rode in silence for a split second. “Is that how you got all your cavities?” Evan asked.
After the baptism, Evan changed into dry clothes and was talking to his grandpa when he looked to the back of the room and started waving furiously. “Hey! You came!”
Lane was startled to see Dr. Hodges standing near the back. Evan called out, “Hey, he’s my dentist!”
The boys and their parents made their way to Dr. Hodges and told him they were glad to see him. Dr. Hodges smiled at Evan and said, “You were right, Evan. You didn’t drown.”
To Evan’s parents, he said, “I hope you don’t mind my coming. My sister has been writing to me about the Book of Mormon, and she has been talking about getting baptized. Evan invited us to come to his baptism when he was at the office last week, and I wanted to see what your church was about. I’ve known your family for years, and I know you’re good people, but I didn’t realize you were Mormon until Evan brought in his Book of Mormon and told us about your church.”
He spoke to Evan again. “I hope you don’t mind that I took your Book of Mormon home with me. I’ve really enjoyed reading it.”
After they got home, Evan came into Lane’s room, where Lane was packing his suitcase. Lane had been quietly getting ready to go to the Missionary Training Center, thinking about Evan’s baptism. He was feeling ashamed. He had had plenty of opportunities to talk about the Church at the dentist’s office and didn’t. He was too busy hanging onto the last shred of his social life before leaving. He had thought it would be hard to be a missionary because he didn’t know what to say to people. But wasn’t missionary work just getting the word out and being happy about having the gospel, like Evan? It was that simple.
“Hey, buddy,” Lane said, hugging his little brother, “you are one terrific missionary. Think you might fit into my suitcase? I could be your junior companion.”

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

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

I became friends with Kerstin when I was 14 years old. We went to the same school. I had known who she was for a long time, but I had not known her personally before because she was 12.
We got to know each other better when we both tried out for the school play. We soon became good friends, even though there was a two-year age difference. It wasn’t long before we met together in the afternoons to go on walks and talk. One spring afternoon, on one of our walks, she asked something that would change her life forever.
Kerstin wondered why my brother and I didn’t participate in the school’s religion class like most of the students in Austria. I told her about the gospel of Jesus Christ and about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then I bore my testimony and invited her to come to a youth activity. Later I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon and the Liahona.
Since then Kerstin has participated in every Church activity and attends Church meetings every Sunday. She has even attended youth conference. Whenever we can, we walk to a little river that is close by to read our scriptures and work on Young Women Personal Progress.
Unfortunately, Kerstin cannot be baptized until she is 18. Her parents don’t want to cause any arguments with her extended family members. Despite this obstacle, Kerstin has already managed to get her mother to attend church.
Kerstin also works with the missionaries. She speaks about the Church with everyone she meets and has helped get her father excited about the family history program, even though he has no interest in religion.
Kerstin is an example to me of how easy it is to speak with others about the gospel and how our Father in Heaven prepares people to hear His word. We need only open our mouths and have faith. The rest will take care of itself.

I mention one more example of the incorrect way to accomplish home teaching. President Marion G. Romney, who was a counselor in the First Presidency some years ago, used to tell about his home teacher who once went to the Romney home on a cold winter night. He kept his hat in his hand and shifted nervously when invited to sit down and give his message. As he remained standing, he said, “Well, I’ll tell you, Brother Romney, it’s cold outside, and I left my car engine running so it wouldn’t stop. I just came by so I could tell the bishop I had made my visits.”6
President Ezra Taft Benson, after relating President Romney’s experience in a meeting of priesthood holders, then said, “We can do better than that, brethren—much better!”7 I agree.

Dinah sat on the rug, excited for story time. It was her favorite part of the day.
She looked across the rug and saw a classmate named Felicity waving to her.
“Come here!” Felicity said.
Dinah scooted across the rug. “What’s up?”
“Your hair is different than mine,” said Felicity. “Why does your hair look like that?” She touched Dinah’s braids and giggled.
“My mom helped me do it,” Dinah said. She loved the color of her hair and how it felt under her fingers. She loved the neat rows of cute little plastic hair clips.
“Also, I want to see something,” Felicity said. “Show me your arm.”
Dinah held out her arm. “Well, what?” she asked as Felicity moved her own arm next to Dinah’s.
“Your arms are so brown!” said Felicity.
“Oh,” said Dinah, scooting back to the other side of the rug. Suddenly she couldn’t wait for the day to end.
At home, Dinah didn’t say much at dinner. When it was cleanup time, her sister, Aly, grabbed a towel to dry dishes and Dinah picked up the broom.
Mom started singing. Mom loved to sing while they cleaned.
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine …”
Dinah smiled a little. She hummed and sang along as she swept: “Let it shine, let it shine …”
The song ended. “My turn!” Aly said. She started a new song. Dinah tried to harmonize like Aly and Mom did, but it sounded flat. Like a boring gray color. Everyone burst out laughing.
“That was funny!” said Dinah. “Let me try again.”
Aly started the song again, and Dinah closed her eyes and joined in. This time, the different notes started to blend, like yellow and blue mixing into a bright green.
They sang almost the whole time they cleaned. When they were finishing, Dinah remembered what happened at school. She still felt uncomfortable about it.
“Mom, do you ever think about how people look different?” Dinah asked. “How everyone has different hair and skin and eyes?”
“Hmm, yes, I know what you mean,” said Mom. “Did something happen that made you think about that?”
Dinah told Mom about what Felicity said. “I felt weird. I didn’t like it. Why did she say that?”
“It sounds like Felicity was curious about you,” Mom said. “Everyone has their own unique skin color. And hair and eyes too. We’re all Heavenly Father’s children, and there’s no right or wrong way to look. But sometimes people need to get used to the beauty of different colors.”
“All peoples’ colors are beautiful?” Dinah asked.
“Definitely. Everyone’s color shows something special about their family and their history. The way you act represents our family to others. And who do we always say we follow in our family? Jesus Christ, right? So you also represent the Savior.”
Dinah nodded as Mom pulled her into a hug. Then she pulled Aly into the hug too.
“We can always feel good about who we are—especially when we’re following Jesus Christ,” she said quietly.
Dinah’s upset feelings began to settle down.
“Now,” Mom said with a smile, “time to get ready for bed. And then—dessert!”
“Yay!” Aly shrieked. “It’s gonna be pie, I just know it!” She zoomed upstairs.
Dinah followed Aly. She felt much better after talking with Mom. Her skin color was another part of who she was, like her family and her testimony were. She would keep being kind and set a good example at school. With God on her side, it would be a piece of cake.
Or even better, a piece of pie!

About this time, President Joseph F. Smith and his counselors in the First Presidency suggested to members of the Church that they hold a family home evening once each week. Accordingly, my father would gather us around a little table after supper to read the Book of Mormon. We read it from cover to cover that year. Because Mother had taught me to read, I was privileged to take my turn in reading aloud. What excitement I experienced as we approached the Third book of Nephi and the coming of the Savior! With feelings of sadness we continued through the books of Mormon, Ether, and Moroni. These feelings were strongly reinforced by my father.

Father told me the story of Grandfather Durham, who had been inspired to compose a melody called “The Nephite Lamentation.” Thomas Durham had been promised in a patriarchal blessing that he would hear music as it was sung in the heavens. My father related how one night my grandfather had a dream. In it he saw twenty-four men by a stream. They looked very sad. Their leader arose and addressed them. Then he heard a melody played on what sounded like a trumpet. The impression came to him that it was a dream concerning Moroni and the last twenty-four Nephites. He awoke. In the late hours of the night he went to his little organ and played the tune he had heard and wrote it down. Later, a choir in the Parowan Ward in southern Utah sang the tune to the words of “O My Father.” It was published in modified form in the old Primary songbook as arranged by Henry E. Giles.

Hearing this music and reading the Book of Mormon in these early years with my parents made a forceful impression upon my mind as to the reality and truth of the Book of Mormon.

I hope that each of you will watch and listen carefully to what your parents say and do. I pray they will teach you well. I also hope that the music you hear in your home will be uplifting and inspiring, because we believe that “if there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” (A of F 1:13.) The place to begin with good things is at home with your family.

Finally, let us all remember the commandment: “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” (Ex. 20:12.)