Gospel Story Finder

Seven-year-old Adam wanted to be a superhero. He’d seen superheroes on TV, and he’d read a lot of superhero adventures. He thought that he was qualified for the job. He knew exactly how to stop the bad guys and prevent wrongdoings.
One morning when Adam woke up, he decided that his time to be a superhero had come. He was going to save the day.
“Hurry up,” Mother called. “Breakfast is ready.”
Adam jumped out of bed, dressed in an instant, then ran into the kitchen.
“That was fast,” Mother noticed. “You must have big plans for the day.”
“Sort of,” he replied. He didn’t want to say too much. Every seven-year-old knows that superheroes don’t brag.
Adam gulped down his breakfast, thinking of the possible adventures ahead.
Mother’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Oh, my,” she sighed. “I almost forgot that I promised to pick a basket of raspberries for Mrs. Evans this morning. Adam, could you clear and wash these breakfast dishes so I can get started?”
At first, Adam was a little annoyed. After all, he had more important things to do. He had to save the day. Oh, well, he thought. It’s still early, and the day hasn’t needed saving yet. Besides, if Mrs. Evans was going to make jam with the raspberries, maybe she’d save a jar for him. He liked Mrs. Evans, and Mrs. Evans knew that he liked raspberry jam.
After the dishes were done, Adam practically flew out the front door. He stopped at the end of the driveway and surveyed the neighborhood with his eagle-like vision. It seemed pretty quiet, but every superhero knows well that quiet can be deceiving.
Suddenly the quiet was broken! His little brother, Aaron, was yelling from the front porch. “Adam, Mom wants you to tie my shoes.” Aaron was four and was just learning to tie his shoes.
Adam trudged up the stairs to the front porch and began to tie his younger brother’s shoes. Then a super idea came to him: If I teach Aaron how to tie his own shoes, I won’t have to do it anymore, and I’ll have more time to save the day! He sat patiently with his brother. It was frustrating at first, but pretty soon Aaron’s fingers did just what they were supposed to do. Now Aaron could tie his own shoes. Helping Aaron tie his shoes had taken longer than Adam had expected. He hoped that he hadn’t been needed for an emergency. He decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, keeping his eyes and ears open for any signs of trouble.
Except for two dogs chasing a cat up a tree, he didn’t see anything. He chased the dogs away and coaxed the cat out of the tree. It wasn’t his idea of a superhero’s job, even if the cat seemed happy. Discouraged, he went home.
“Hi,” Mother said. “I was just coming to find you. We need to go to the grocery store and buy a few things for dinner. Go jump in the car.”
Adam brightened a little. Maybe he could save the day at the store. Eager to get there, he helped Aaron and their younger sister, Jenna, put on their seat belts before he buckled his own. Once inside the store, he scanned the aisles in search of anything amiss.
Adam pushed the cart while Mother loaded it with groceries. With Jenna sitting in it, it was getting harder and harder to push. By the time they got to the checkout stand, he was very tired, but he was sure that all the pushing had made his muscles stronger. A superhero needed to be really strong. But he was disappointed that he hadn’t been needed to save the day.
Once they were home, he helped carry in the groceries and put them away. And while Mother fixed dinner, he set the table. After dinner, he decided he might as well clear the table, too.
The day was almost over. In just a couple more hours it would be time for bed, and he hadn’t saved the day yet. He decided to go out on the porch and take one last look around the neighborhood.
Just as he was going out the door, he heard Jenna crying. She was ready for bed and wanted to hear a story. Adam could hear Mother in the other room, helping Aaron get ready for bed. Adam was a good reader, and he figured that reading one story wouldn’t take too long. He settled Jenna in her bed and read her favorite story to her—then another and another. By the time she fell asleep, it was almost time for Adam to get ready for bed. I haven’t done one thing to save the day, he thought. Not one sinister plan has been stopped. No one has needed rescuing. I haven’t saved the day at all.
As he lay in bed, thinking about his wasted day, Mother came to find him. “Adam, you got ready for bed awfully early. Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah—I guess I’m just tired.” Mother smiled. “I bet you are—you really saved the day for me today. Thank you.”
“What?” Adam sat upright in his bed. “What did you say?”
“I said that you saved the day for me today. I never could have finished all the things that needed to be done if it weren’t for your help.” And with a quick kiss on his forehead, Mother was gone.
“I saved the day!” Adam whispered excitedly. “I really did it!”
That night Adam the superhero fell asleep thinking of ways he could save the day tomorrow.

In 1968 when I made my first visit to the German Democratic Republic, tensions were high. Trust and understanding did not exist. No diplomatic relations had been established. On a cloudy and rain-filled day I journeyed to the city of Görlitz, situated deep in the German Democratic Republic near the Polish and Czech borders. I attended my first meeting with the Saints. We assembled in a small and ancient building. As the members sang the hymns of Zion, they literally filled the hall with their faith and devotion.
My heart was filled with sorrow when I realized the members had no patriarch, no wards or stakes—just branches. They could not receive temple blessings—either endowment or sealing. No official visitor had come from Church headquarters in a long time. The members could not leave their country. Yet they trusted in the Lord with all their hearts.
I stood at the pulpit, and with tear-filled eyes and a voice choked with emotion, I made a promise to the people: “If you will remain true and faithful to the commandments of God, every blessing any member of the Church enjoys in any other country will be yours.” Then I realized what I had said. That night, I dropped to my knees and pleaded with my Heavenly Father, “Father, I’m on Thy errand; this is Thy Church. I have spoken words that came not from me but from Thee and Thy Son. Wilt Thou fulfill the promise in the lives of this noble people.” Thus concluded my first visit to the German Democratic Republic.

On Sunday, three days following my disturbing hour at the public library, I sat in what seemed like an ordinary deacons quorum meeting. But what happened during the next 15 minutes was extraordinary to me.

Following the opening prayer, we were introduced to Brother Corbridge of the stake high council. Brother Corbridge told us that he and his family had just returned from a wonderful vacation trip that included a visit to the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove near Palmyra, New York. Then he related in great detail his family’s experience while in the Sacred Grove. An unmistakable manifestation of the Spirit had come to them to confirm beyond question the truth of what had happened there on that early spring morning of 1820.

Then, in answer to my urgent but humble prayers, the inspiration of the Holy Ghost began to flood into my mind as Brother Corbridge spoke to us with emotion about his family’s experience. I marveled that a well-dressed, successful businessman would stand unashamed with tears in his eyes and share his innermost feelings to a group of young deacons. I know now that he had been sent by the Lord to say something that was meant especially for me, a 12-year-old Aaronic Priesthood boy who had been praying earnestly and who needed help urgently.

Brother Corbridge’s experience in the Sacred Grove became my experience. The gift of the Holy Ghost manifested itself to such a degree that even to this day, 60 years later, I can bear witness as though I had actually been there and observed firsthand that remarkable experience we call the First Vision and I can testify that the Book of Mormon is indeed the word of God.

Yes, Heavenly Father does hear the prayers of His young people, and He very often sends us our answers through His appointed priesthood leaders and other good people. May we listen well as they speak to us. May our thoughts and actions be such that we might invite the confirming Spirit of the Holy Ghost to enter our hearts and minds. I shall ever be grateful for the sustaining influence that came to me as a young man holding the Aaronic Priesthood.

After more than five years in Bahrain, my wife and I felt I had accomplished all I could at the falcon breeding center I had established there. We were thinking of returning to the United States when a similar position opened up in Dubai, one of the United Arab Emirates farther down the Arabian Peninsula. My employer wished me well and told me warmly, “We will consider you a Bahraini export and send you to Dubai.”

The position at the Dubai Wildlife Research Centre, as wildlife consultant to His Highness Sheikh Mohamad bin Rashid Al Maktoum, has given me the professional opportunity to do research on a much broader range of animals.

Unlike Bahrain, Dubai has only recently grown rich on oil, and in amounts of money difficult to imagine. Streets that were not even paved in 1968 are now lined with palaces and bordered with miles of shrubs and flowers grown with water distilled from the sea.

But the old ways are not forgotten; the sheikhs are still in touch with the people. Several times a week, my employer hosts a luncheon for anywhere from twenty to fifty men who have need to see him. We sit on the floor and eat with our hands. Some of the guests are bedouin herdsmen; others are merchants owning millions. All dress alike, and all are shown the same great courtesy. The sheikh’s guests may come to ask for help with their problems, to ask a favor, or simply to express their loyalty.

In 1982, when we arrived in Dubai, no Latter-day Saint services were being held. We found three Latter-day Saints there: a sister from the United States and two Filipino brethren. Sacrament meetings began in our living room. Our children used to say that for a year they didn’t go to church—church came to us!

Within eighteen months, however, new move-ins helped our branch membership grow to twenty-four; and by 1985, the small branch had grown to thirty-six. We rent space in the American school for meetings. Our branch offers the full program of the Church for our age groups, including early morning seminary.

Leaders of the Arab countries in which we have lived recognize the need of workers from other nations to worship in their own way. But proselyting was not tolerated. There are occasional converts, however—nonmember spouses from western workers’ part-member families. The waters of the Persian Gulf, which welcomed the ships of Alexander the Great and other ancient mariners, are the baptismal font for these people and for the children in our branch.

Our two oldest children, Catharine and Andrew, moved with us to Bahrain in 1976 when they were small. We have since added to our family Eric Alkhalifa, born in Bahrain, and Sarah Elisabeth, born in the United Arab Emirates.

Socially, life on this peninsula has both drawbacks and advantages for our family. Women from other cultures feel fewer restrictions in Dubai than in some other countries on the peninsula, but, true to Muslim tradition, most native-born women do not mingle freely in mixed company. While this might seem restrictive in some western societies, it is not seen so by these women. The traditional Muslim family system is strong. It works very well for them, but it also limits the opportunity for foreigners to know Arab families well.

Members of the Church generally make friends with the many other foreign families in these Arab countries. (Only a small percentage of the workers in technical jobs are natives.) The ten children who attended our son Andrew’s last birthday party, for example, were citizens of eight different nations.

There are challenges to Church members here. Because of the six-day work week, for example, those who enjoy recreational opportunities—like diving in the gulf—must decide whether to give up their pleasures on our Sabbath.

For our children (and for us), there is the challenge of affluence among their associates. Catharine was one of eighty girls chosen to attend, at no cost, a private school on the palace grounds. It was built by the crown prince, who wanted his daughters to have a western education. It is staffed by teachers from England, and it operates much like any other private school—except for the month-long field trip to Europe by private jet.

In some ways, however, members here are sheltered from many evils of the world. Leaders of these Arab countries will not accept any activity that threatens Islam or the faith of its believers. For example, drug and alcohol abuse, pornography, and immodesty are strictly controlled because they are offensive to Muslim beliefs. While laws forbidding these things may seem restrictive to some, we enjoy the freedoms they provide. We adults do not have to contend with ugly influences, and we can feel confident that our children are not coming in contact with them in their schools.

Latter-day Saints and other foreign workers living in the countries of the Arabian Peninsula find their lives affected daily by the teachings of Islam. Television and other activities are interrupted during the afternoons and evenings for the call to prayers. Public gatherings begin with readings from the Koran. This book, believed by Muslims to be revelation given to the Prophet Muhammad, is the basis for all the laws in the countries of this region and contains specific guidelines for daily life.

Hospitality is one of the fundamental principles of Islam. In social or business contacts, an Arab will express sincere concern for his guests and expect them to share his proffered coffee or tea. This courtesy has allowed me to explain the Word of Wisdom to Arab men—from the king of Saudi Arabia in his palace to camel herdsmen around their camp fires. They accept my belief without offense because it is similar to their health code, which requires abstinence from pork and alcohol. Strict Muslims also do not smoke.

Once, at the request of my employer, I accompanied him on a visit to the ruler of another Muslim country. We were part of a small group of sheikhs and government officials. We dined at the palace and were flown to the ruler’s private retreat. During one of the meals, several of the Muslims ordered wine. When I declined, someone joked about my becoming a Muslim, so I explained that I don’t drink because of my religious beliefs. Their consciences pricked, two of the men urged me to join with them. His Highness, the crown prince of Bahrain—my employer at the time—silenced them, and, turning to me, said, “Joe, don’t ever change.” I have always been thankful for my employer’s appreciation of my faith.

Church members who find themselves living as guests in a foreign culture—a small minority of the population, far from the familiar things of home—might easily feel lost and alone. But the Church is almost always there. With or without a family, it will be comforting to remember that the love of our Father in Heaven, the effectiveness of gospel principles, and the ministrations of the Holy Ghost are not limited by the size of the group at worship or by the design of its surroundings. When you strive to make a chapel of your home, the Spirit will be there.

In my mid-60s, it was getting harder for me to get around. I weighed almost 300 pounds (136 kg). I had low energy and stamina and even obtained a handicapped parking permit so that I could park as close to stores as possible.
I decided it was time to lose weight. I turned to Doctrine and Covenants 89 and prayed to Heavenly Father, “Help me to understand what this is really telling me.” Over time each verse, each word took on new meaning. Even though I don’t drink alcohol, tea, or coffee, and I don’t smoke, I hadn’t really absorbed the overall message. I knew the Word of Wisdom was a health code, but I had never before thought of it as a way of life.
For the first time I truly felt that I could change my lifestyle. I set a realistic goal of losing 50 pounds (23 kg) in 50 weeks.
I kept track of my calories and nutrients. I researched the health benefits of everything I ate. As I ate healthier foods, I felt satisfied. I had no cravings. My body seemed to know what it needed. Unhealthy food I used to enjoy lost its appeal. I quit eating sugar. Over time, I quit counting calories and ate plant-based foods, as the Word of Wisdom says: “that which yieldeth fruit, whether in the ground or above the ground” (D&C 89:16). I met my goal and more. In just over 23 months I had lost over half my body weight. That’s 12 dress sizes smaller! I have now maintained that weight for over three years.
I feel healthy. I no longer have blood-sugar spikes when I’m hungry, and I can’t remember the last time I had a headache. I don’t have to take medications. While losing weight has contributed to my overall feeling of well-being, my new lifestyle does also.
Controlling the things I eat is part of overcoming the natural man (see Mosiah 3:19). In turn, it tweaks my spiritual discernment, allowing me to receive the promise that I “shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures” (D&C 89:19). Giving up fast food for wisdom is a good trade-off.
I am most grateful to a loving Heavenly Father who heard my simple plea and gave me insight into the Word of Wisdom. I know the Word of Wisdom is revelation. I know it can change lives.

Merrell: Yes, and there’s kind of a funny story involved in one case. Betsy and I were driving back from dinner one evening trying to decide whether I should do Three Warriors. We were on the freeway, and I started hearing music I thought would be perfect for the theme song. The next morning I got up and wrote it down, and Kieth came over and I played it for him. Halfway through he got up to leave, and I said, “Kieth, where are you going?” He said, “The music is fine. I trust you.” We recorded it, and after a screening with the distributors, the producer told me he loved the music. Kieth came over to me then and said, “You know, when you played the theme song for me that day and were telling me what the French horns would sound like, and the strings, and everything else, all I could hear was your terrible voice and your out-of-tune piano. I was really worried, but I’ll never doubt your judgment again!”

Rachel ran through the living room and rushed up the stairs to her bedroom. She and her best friend, Becca, were going to the park to try out Becca’s new rollerblades.
As Rachel was pulling her own rollerblades out from under her bed, Mom came into the room. “I’m going over to Sister Heaton’s for a few hours, and I need you to stay with David.”
“But Becca and I are going to the park right now!”
“I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Rachel, but Sister Heaton still isn’t feeling well after her operation, and I promised to help take care of her today. David will be up from his nap in about a half hour, and then you two can play for a while until Dad gets home.”
“But I don’t want to play with David—I want to go to the park!”
“I know you do, but today you need to stay home and take care of your little brother. You can go to the park tomorrow. I’m sorry, but Sister Heaton needs me, and I need you to help me.”
As Rachel watched Mom going down the street, she was so angry that she almost cried. Why did she have to take care of David? It wasn’t fair that she had to give up a trip to the park just so her mom could take care of somebody.
She called Becca to tell her the bad news, and as she hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. It was Aunt Pearl, her mom’s younger sister.
“Hi, Aunt Pearl. Mom’s not here.”
“That’s OK—I can’t stay. I just came to return your mom’s sewing machine. Mine is fixed now, so I don’t need hers anymore. And I thought that maybe I’d spend a few minutes with my favorite niece!”
Rachel gave her a weak smile and tried to seem happy, but Aunt Pearl noticed Rachel wasn’t really feeling happy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I was going to go to the park with Becca, but Mom told me I had to stay and take care of David so she could help a woman in our ward.”
“That’s too bad. If it were any other day but today, I’d stay so you could be with your friend. But I have a doctor’s appointment, and I can’t reschedule it.”
“I guess I’ll be OK. It’s just that I really wanted to go to the park today.”
“You know, there might be something I could do.”
“What?”
“Sit down with me, and I’ll tell you a story.”
Rachel wasn’t sure a story would fix things—a story couldn’t baby-sit for her. But Aunt Pearl usually knew what she was talking about, so Rachel followed her to the couch.
“When your great-great-grandmother Emily Burk left Nauvoo to come west, she had an old hen she wanted to bring with her. It had been doing something rather unusual—sitting on a nest of duck eggs—and Emily just couldn’t leave her behind. So she set up a box in the wagon for the nest. Soon the ducklings hatched, and every night when the wagon train stopped, Emily filled a washtub with water and let the little ducks swim. Everyone in camp came to watch them.
“You see, Rachel, part of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is helping others. There’s even a scripture in the Book of Mormon that tells us how important it is to ‘bear one another’s burdens’ [Mosiah 18:8]. Heavenly Father wants us to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves.”
“You mean, just like Emily took care of the chicken and like the chicken took care of the ducks?”
“And just like the Lord took care of the pioneers and how He still takes care of all of us. He wants us to be happy, so He watches over us.”
“Why doesn’t He take care of Sister Heaton instead of having Mom do it?”
“That’s how He is taking care of Sister Heaton—through your mother. Most of the time Heavenly Father answers our prayers through someone else.”
“So Mom is Heavenly Father’s answer to Sister Heaton’s prayers?”
“Probably. Your mother is helping Sister Heaton rest and get her mind off her troubles, sort of like those ducklings helped the tired pioneers find a little bit of enjoyment at the end of their long days.”
“But why do I have to baby-sit?”
“So your mom can help Sister Heaton. The ducks wouldn’t have been able to bring some enjoyment to the pioneers if the chicken hadn’t cared for them. Your mom wouldn’t be able to help Sister Heaton if she did not know you would take good care of your brother while she’s gone.”
“So, in a way, I’m helping Sister Heaton too?”
“In a very big way.”
“Then I guess I don’t feel so bad about waiting until tomorrow to go skating.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
As Aunt Pearl left, Rachel heard David waking up. On her way upstairs to get him, she thought more about what Aunt Pearl had said. Rachel was still a bit disappointed to miss out on the trip to the park, but it helped to know that taking care of David helped Heavenly Father take care of Sister Heaton.

I was 25 and sitting in church one Sunday—a Sunday that would change the course of my life. I had recently returned after 10 years of inactivity. As the sacrament was being passed, the Spirit told me I had to go on a mission. I nearly died with shock. I couldn’t believe it. “Me? That can’t be right!” But over and over again, throughout that sacrament, the message persisted.
Nothing like that had ever happened in all my years sitting in sacrament meetings. I was shocked. My life was not in order. I was not comfortable, nor had I settled back into Church life. I felt overwhelmed. It was too soon. And, in any case, I had never wanted to serve a mission. I’m strong minded; I had my life all planned. This wasn’t an option or a choice I would ever have considered. So, I decided there and then: I was not going to go; I was going to continue making my own life decisions.
I told no one and tried to push the matter to the back of my mind, but the promptings continued: “You need to go on a mission.” But the answer was, “I don’t want to go.” This carried on for a year. I thought if I ignored the promptings they’d eventually go away. During the day it was easy to do this because I was busy at work, at church, and so on. Then the Holy Ghost started prompting me during the night when I was trying to sleep. I’d wake up and find it hard to go back to sleep. It was relentless. I didn’t want to hear it. I was exhausted. This whole process was consuming me day and night.
It was about this time I started changing my attitude, listening instead of ignoring. I didn’t want to do it, but why? Because I felt forced! It wasn’t in my life plan. So, I decided I would start thinking of the possibility of going, as I knew these promptings would not stop. I had to pick up my mission papers from the bishop.
I was still at odds with myself, but I had to admit defeat and succumb. The Lord had another path he wanted me to follow. It was terribly hard for me to accept this, but I knew it had to happen.
As I was trying to come to terms with everything, I knew the bishop was being prompted to talk to me about my mission papers. I just knew. I had never mentioned it to anyone, but I knew he was also getting the vibes. But I still needed time to adjust and come to terms with everything, so I started dodging him.
If I saw him in the corridor at Church, I’d dive into a classroom and hide until he passed. I’d watch him and stay out of his vicinity—terrible, but I thought this would gain me more time. But one Sunday I was walking up the corridor only to find the bishop walking towards me. No one else was there. I couldn’t hide or dive away. I was nabbed, pure and simple.
The bishop simply said, “Can you come with me for a minute? I’ve got to give you something”. I was hoping the something was to do with my Primary or activities committee callings, but he walked into the clerk’s office, opened the filing cabinet, and handed me my mission papers. He said, “You need to fill these in, and send them.” I said, “I knew you knew!” When I told him that I had been deliberately dodging and hiding from him, he laughed and said he wondered why he could never find me.
That was it. I received my papers; it was all on. It was around Christmas 1996 when I thought I’d better let the family know what was happening. I decided I’d tell everyone over Sunday dinner. As we were sitting at the table my sister said she had something to tell everyone: she’d been thinking of changing careers from a hairdresser to a beauty therapist, thus needing to give up her job and go to college. Everyone was happy about her decision. Then it was my turn. I told them I also had something to say. I told them that I was planning to go on a mission. A look of disbelief and surprise appeared on every face. I told them, “No one is more surprised than me.” Then between Christmas and New Years, a quiet holiday period, I managed to get all my medical and dental appointments arranged. Within three days my papers were ready.
When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.
Over the next few months, I started shopping for my mission attire. Coming from Scotland, I’m no stranger to cold weather so I was going to be well prepared. But every time I went to buy something like a winter coat, big woolly jumpers, hat, scarves, or gloves, I’d get the answer, “No!” I’d leave it a couple of days then go elsewhere. Again, the answer would be “No! Don’t buy that.” I couldn’t believe I was being prompted to buy certain clothes.
The promptings were very specific. I’d pick up clothes and I’d hold the hanger and wait for a yes or a no. I obediently bought according to those promptings. When I look back, I can’t believe how much the Holy Ghost kept prompting me and specifically telling me things each day—I was not asking for such clarity. I’ve never experienced this level of prompting ever since. That was how it was supposed to be—minute detail.
One morning I went downstairs and there on the carpet was the big fat white envelope. My heart leapt. I quickly grabbed it and immediately locked myself in the bathroom. I have a big family, and someone could have been lurking; I wanted to open it on my own.
I stared at the envelope, scared to open it. I kept thinking that it held the next 18 months of my life, my future. I was very anxious. I eventually opened it and scoured through the first few lines. I just wanted to know where I was going—it was the Greece Athens Mission. I’d never heard of this mission. I’d never heard of anyone even going to this mission. I would later find out that I was the first Scottish sister to go there. How cool! I would learn to speak Greek. l would serve my mission during one of the hottest summers they’d had, and another summer the following year. Greece was indeed a different, unusual place. The gospel was still in its infancy there; it had only been dedicated 25 years previously by Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008).
I served my mission from May 1997 to November 1998. It was one of the best experiences of my life! I can’t believe that I hadn’t wanted to go. I could quite easily have missed out on this crucial experience. It was meant to be. I would never have chosen that path but it’s what Heavenly Father knew was right for me. Greece will always be a special place with special memories for me. Whenever I go back to visit, I get ‘goose bumps’ and butterflies in my stomach. When I left my mission, I left a part of my heart there, and there it will stay. It brought me so much happiness. It shaped my future. It put me on the right path, in the right direction. It was priceless. I loved it. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. It changed me for the better. My favourite word is fantastic, and Greece was fantastic!

The log cabin was small and homey, a chimney rising from one end and two windows and a door on the front.
Around it the fertile fields of Fayette, New York, were greening. Nearby trees were awakening to spring, shading the fresh, new blossoms struggling to lift their heads to the sun. Parked around the cabin were the horses, buggies, and wagons that had carried the many men and women who were gathered there on that Tuesday morning. It was April 6, 1830, the day chosen by the Lord for the official organization of His church in the last days (see D&C 20:1–2).
Inside the main room of the cabin, the Prophet Joseph Smith, only twenty-four years old, asked five of the men present to join him in legally organizing the new church so that the requirements of the law could be met. Then, after all those present had knelt together in solemn prayer, Joseph asked them if they would accept him and Oliver Cowdery as their teachers and leaders. They agreed. Joseph turned to Oliver, laid his hands on his head, and ordained him an elder in the Church. Oliver in turn ordained Joseph. In a confirming revelation, the Lord called Joseph “a seer, a translator, a prophet, an apostle of Jesus Christ, an elder of the church” (D&C 21:1).
The sacrament was blessed and passed. Others were ordained and confirmed. The gift of the Holy Ghost was given to many, and its presence filled the hearts of all. The small cabin overflowed with gladness and hope.
Among those who accepted baptism into the Church that day were Joseph’s parents, Joseph Smith, Sr., and Lucy Mack Smith. The young prophet was so moved by this and by the joy of the occasion that he went alone into the woods and wept.
The Church of Jesus Christ was again upon the earth. A prophet of God stood at its head. Its members were few and humble, some with little formal education, but that Tuesday they faced the future with great courage, and they were eager to learn the things of God and to serve Him and His church. Mistakes would be made and some would stumble, but the work would go forward, for the Lord promised them, and us, “I will bless all those who labor in my vineyard with a mighty blessing” (D&C 21:9).

Recently, I found myself in a situation where I struggled to overcome this.
Not too long after I was called as an Area Seventy in the Africa West Area, I was assigned to a district conference in Soubre, a town about six hours’ drive from Abidjan, the capital of the Ivory Coast.
As I journeyed from Calabar through Lagos to Abidjan, I peacefully pondered what I had prepared and what the Savior would have me say and do. However, when I arrived at the Abidjan airport, where interactions and exchanges are in French, I started experiencing feelings of linguistic inadequacy. I have limited ability in French, which made it difficult to communicate and ask for assistance at the airport. My poor pronunciation resulted in the taxi driver taking me to the wrong hotel, and only with the help of a passerby were we able to arrive at the right one.
Eventually, safely in my hotel, where I was able to reach mission support, I reminded myself how Nephi and the brother of Jared were blessed because they worked by faith and never murmured against God, even when details of their assignments were unknown to them.
In my state of helplessness, including challenges communicating and ordering food, I reminded myself of the words in Alma 37:36 encouraging us to, “Cry unto God for all [our] support”. I followed this pattern and prayed for strength and direction, waited patiently, and trusted in God’s timing.
A temporary relief came as the mission president provided an interpreter for the Saturday session, which was a great blessing. As I returned to my room later that evening, I continued asking the Lord for wisdom to see me through His first assignment for me (alone) in a French speaking country. The desire of my heart was to accomplish His purpose. The Sunday session was similar, and I never ceased calling upon the Lord. As I journeyed home after the meetings and several visits to the homes of members, I earnestly pled with the Lord to know how I was going to overcome this language barrier problem.
Upon arriving home, I shared my frustrating language ordeals with my wife, and she gently reminded me to stop murmuring, and encouraged me to trust in divine help. Her sincere admonition reminded me of Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s explanation that “murmurers have short memories. . . . [and] the longest list of demands”.
I already had two on my list and was not willing to have it increased.
I was home the next morning when a call came from a student who introduced himself as the class representative of the modern languages and translation studies at the University of Calabar where I teach.
His call was to inform me that I had just been assigned to teach English composition to the first-year students of that department who were majoring in French! I was in a state of bewilderment. Certainly, this was not the handiwork of man and if it was not, then it was God setting up support structures for me, not to only succeed, but for me to acknowledge Him. As I entered the class on my first day, the students welcomed me saying, “Bonjour professeur, tu es la bienvenue dans notre classe.”
“Bonjour” I replied.
This class is like a miniature French-speaking community in a country with English as its second and official language.
Today I am making some progress. It is slow, but I am grateful for this because I am compelled to always interact in French with them both in and out of class. But this was not all. As I shared my experience with a fellow servant of the Lord, he was also kind enough to suggest how to project my trainings in French and English to ease the training process, save time, and reduce interference.
I am glad to witness the Savior’s support as I no longer rely only on my strength.
He miraculously made the French class available to me when I least expected it. He has further supported me with a smart training method from a fellow servant as I humbly asked for help. But above all, He has strengthened me with the Spirit to trust in Him and in His timing. I know He can provide support for and help me accomplish what He wants me to, both now and in the future, so I will never allow myself to be worried over things.
Little wonder, this year’s schedule shows me returning to this same French speaking country five times. I am strong! I know like Nephi, no matter the nature of my calling, if I trust in Him and His timing, I need not fear nor doubt. “For I know that the Lord giveth no commandments [or assignments] unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which He commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).

This story took place in the USA.
“I am a child of God,” Cameron sang with the other Primary kids. Cameron was hard of hearing, but he loved to sing. And soon they would be singing in the Primary program. It was only a month away!
When singing time was over, Sister Jones made an announcement. “Our Primary pianist is moving soon. We’d love to have some of you play the piano for the Primary program. Would any of you like to play a song or two?”
Cameron raised his hand. He wanted to help with the program.
Sister Jones wrote down the names of kids who wanted to help. “Emma. Ben. And Cameron! I didn’t know you could play.” She smiled.
Cameron had never taken lessons before, but he liked making up songs on the piano at his grandma’s house.
“I’m not very good yet,” he said. “But I think I can do it if I practice!”
“Thanks for being willing to serve,” Sister Jones said. She gave each child two songs to play.
Cameron felt like running down the hall. He’d always wanted to learn, and now he was going to!
“You look excited! Did something happen in Primary?” Mom asked when they got in the car after church.
Cameron grinned. “I’m going to play the piano for the Primary program!”
“I love that you want to help,” Mom said. “But you don’t know how to play the piano well enough to do that.”
Cameron sat up straight. “I can learn. I’ll practice super hard! I can use Grandma’s piano.”
“We’d better get started, then!” Mom said.
Mom helped Cameron find a piano teacher. The teacher showed him simple ways to play “I Love to See the Temple” and “The Church of Jesus Christ.”
Cameron practiced at Grandma’s house as often as he could. He practiced each line of the songs over and over again. He made lots of mistakes, but he kept trying and kept playing. Finally he could play both songs.
Soon it was time for the Primary program. “How do you feel?” Mom asked.
Cameron hugged his piano book close to his chest. “Nervous. But excited too.”
When it was his turn to play, Cameron’s hands shook a little. Heavenly Father, please help me, he prayed in his mind. He took a deep breath. Then he played the best he could. The other children sang along.
At the end of the song, he smiled. That was fun! He knew the Holy Ghost was helping him.
Now that he had played one song already, Cameron felt more confident. He started the second song. His fingers moved across the keys just like he had practiced.
This song was Cameron’s favorite. He thought about the words as he played. “I believe in the Savior, Jesus Christ. I’ll honor His name.” Cameron had worked hard to learn the songs for the program.
Maybe playing the piano is one way of sharing my testimony, Cameron thought.
After the program, Mom gave Cameron a big hug.
“How was it?” she asked.
“I was nervous at first, but it was fun!” Cameron said. He wanted to keep practicing and learn even more songs.
What skill would you like to learn?
Illustrations by Adam Koford

He recalls one young family he contacted. “I baptized the wife and worked with the husband in the Scouting program,” he says. “I wrote in my journal that I felt someday the husband would join the Church.”
Twenty years later Elder Winkel received a telephone call from two sister missionaries in Amarillo, Texas. They had met the couple, who had immigrated to the United States and now had five children. The wife was no longer active, they said, but she remembered the name “Elder Winkel,” and one of the sister missionaries had tracked him down. “They wanted me to call this couple and bear my testimony to them after they heard the first discussion, and I did that,” says Elder Winkel. “We were all thrilled to have a reunion over the telephone.” A few weeks later he flew to Amarillo and baptized the husband and children.

Another time I was sent to speak to leaders of churches in the United States and ministers of those churches who had met in Minneapolis to deal with the problem of competition among churches.
When I arrived, I found that I was assigned to be a speaker. My subject was to be: Why there was a need for a restoration of the true Church through Joseph Smith. I was a last-minute substitute for Elder Neal A. Maxwell.
When I arrived in the city the night before the meetings and looked at the program, I called President Hinckley. I told him that the meetings were to last three days, that many talks were to be given at the same time, that the crowd could choose which one to attend. I told him that I thought if I told the truth, I feared that no one would come to my second session and that I might be coming home very quickly. I asked him what he thought I should do. He said, “Use your best judgment.”
I prayed through the night. Somewhere near dawn, I was sure I was to say about the Restoration not, “This is what we believe happened to Joseph Smith and why we believe it happened,” but, “This is what happened to Joseph Smith, and this is why the Lord did it.” In the nighttime I was given no assurance of the outcome, just a clear direction—go forward.
To my amazement, after my talk the ministers lined up to speak to me. Every one of them, one after another coming to me, told essentially the same story. Each of them had met a member of the Church somewhere in their lives that they admired. Many of them said that they lived in a community where the stake president had come to the aid of not just his members but of the community in a disaster. They asked if I could take back their greeting and their thanks to people I not only didn’t know but had no hope of ever meeting.
By the end of the three days of meetings, larger and larger crowds were coming to hear the message of the Restoration of the gospel and the true Church of Jesus Christ not because they believed the message but because they had seen goodness in people’s lives—the fruits of that restoration.

One winter morning I awoke to several inches of snow. A native of central California, I was not accustomed to snow and was dreading the uphill walk to the temple. But instead of rationalizing and staying home, I put on warm boots, carried my church shoes, and started my walk to the temple.
When I arrived, I was greeted by a familiar temple worker who was pleased to see that I had made the trek despite the gloomy weather. Once inside, I felt a sense of triumph mixed with gratitude. I realized, just as the prophet had asked, that I had become “a temple-attending and a temple-loving” person.

The story is told of a ship that was in distress during a severe storm off the coast of Holland:
“A rowboat went out to rescue the crew of the fishing boat. The waves were enormous, and each of the men at the oars had to give all his strength and energy to reach the unfortunate sailors in the grim darkness of the night and the heavy rainstorm.
“The trip to the wrecked ship was successful, but the rowboat was too small to take the whole crew in one rescue operation. One man had to stay behind on board because there simply was no room for him; the risk that the rescue boat would capsize was too great. When the rescuers made it back to the beach, hundreds of people were waiting for them with torches to guide them in the dreary night. But the same crew could not make the second trip because they were exhausted from their fight with the stormwinds, the waves, and the sweeping rains.
“So the local captain of the coast guard asked for volunteers to make a second trip. Among those who stepped forward without hesitation was a nineteen-year-old youth by the name of Hans. With his mother he had come to the beach in his oilskin clothes to watch the rescue operation.
“When Hans stepped forward his mother panicked and said, ‘Hans, please don’t go. Your father died at sea when you were four years old and your older brother Pete has been reported missing at sea for more than three months now. You are the only son left to me!’
“But Hans said, ‘Mom, I feel I have to do it. It is my duty.’ And the mother wept and restlessly started pacing the beach when Hans boarded the rowing boat, took the oars, and disappeared into the night.
“After a struggle with the high-going seas that lasted for more than an hour (and to Hans’s mother it seemed an eternity), the rowboat came into sight again. When the rescuers had approached the beach close enough so that the captain of the coast guard could reach them by shouting, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called vigorously against the storm, ‘Did you save him?’
“And then the people lighting the sea with their torches saw Hans rise from his rowing bench, and he shouted with all his might, ‘Yes! And tell Mother it is my brother Pete!’”

President Monson tells the story of a retired executive named Ed who lived the example of a quorum member. On one occasion President Monson was speaking with Ed and asked him, “‘Ed, what are you doing in the Church?’ He replied, ‘I have the best assignment in the ward. My responsibility is to help men who are unemployed find permanent employment. This year I have helped 12 of my brethren who were out of work to obtain good jobs. I have never been happier in my entire life.’” President Monson continues: “Short in stature, ‘Little Ed,’ as we affectionately called him, stood tall that evening as his eyes glistened and his voice quavered. He showed his love by helping those in need. He restored human dignity. He opened doors for those who knew not how to do so themselves.”

Countless are the reports we have heard during the past three and a half weeks of those who were touched in some way—either directly or indirectly—by the events of that day. I should like to share with you the comments of a Church member, Rebecca Sindar, who was on a flight from Salt Lake City to Dallas on the morning of Tuesday, September 11. The flight was interrupted, as were all flights in the air at the time of the tragedies, and the plane grounded in Amarillo, Texas. Sister Sindar reports: “We all left the plane and found televisions in the airport, where we crowded around to see the broadcast of what had happened. People were lined up to call loved ones to assure them we were safely on the ground. I shall always remember the 12 or so missionaries who were on their way to the mission field on our flight. They made phone calls, and then we saw them huddled in a circle in a corner of the airport, kneeling in prayer together. How I wish I could have captured that moment to share with the mothers and fathers of those sweet young men as they saw the need for prayer right away.”

A ward member told me that one day she saw a car driving by and, thinking I was the driver, she waved. A moment later, she thought, “How silly! Laurie’s blind; she can’t see me wave.” Her mind didn’t find it at all odd that I could be driving the car. “I felt so silly when I thought of it later,” she told me. “But then, I always forget you are blind.” Perhaps that is the greatest compliment I am ever paid—when people think of me as they would any other individual. “I forget you’re blind”—that’s one of the nicest things I could hear.

Brother Law has lived in our predominantly LDS community for 36 years. For the past 13 years, since his wife passed away, he has lived alone. He is a kind gentleman and a good neighbor. But just as his large garden and row of wild yellow rosebushes shield his house, there was an unseen barrier between him and his neighbors.
He was not a member of the Church. Although ward members often extended to him a hand of fellowship and offered to include him in Church activities, he always politely but firmly refused.
The neighborhood children have always loved him, but a few years ago a special friendship grew between him and nine-year-old Jessica, who lives across the street from him.
Worried about his being lonesome, she often went to pay a visit. One day she noticed a Book of Mormon on his shelf. Missionaries had left it years earlier. Jessica picked it up and announced that she was going to read to him some of her favorite scriptures.
Amused at first, Brother Law listened only to be nice to Jessica. Then the spirit of that great book began to warm his heart. He started looking forward to her reading it to him.
In the past when missionaries had come to his door, he had politely told them he was not interested. But not long after Jessica had begun reading to him, the missionaries came again. This time he listened!
Jessica’s friend, Kristen, invited him to go to church with her family. As Sunday approached, however, he told her that he had nothing to wear and that he didn’t feel very well.
The following Sunday, Jessica invited him to join her family at church. When he again tried the excuse of nothing to wear, Jessica told him, “You can wear one of Daddy’s shirts.”
Brother Law chuckled—Jessica’s father’s shirts were several sizes larger than his.
Not one to give up, Jessica told her mom the problem, and the next week Jessica gave Brother Law an early Christmas present—a new white shirt. By this time he was running out of excuses, but he tried once more by telling Jessica he had no appropriate pants. She simply replied, “Oh, you can wear most any pants. Just make sure they don’t have paint on them.”
He didn’t have a tie, either, but Jessica’s dad promptly loaned him one. With no excuses left, Brother Law agreed to attend church with Jessica’s family. After 71 years of not going to church, Brother Law was very nervous. Once he was in the chapel, though, he felt warm and comfortable.
The next hurdle came when the missionaries approached him about baptism. He had decided the Church was a family church, so it was really no place for him.
The following Sunday one of the Relief Society sisters gave a talk at ward conference on how we are all brothers and sisters in the gospel. As she talked, the Spirit touched his heart, and he realized that he really could be a part of the ward “family.” Besides, he recalled, all the children in the neighborhood were already calling him Grandpa or Brother Law.
This story has a wonderful ending—or beginning. On 10 April 1994, he was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Today when you look at Brother Law, he literally glows with the Spirit.

A maze, of course, is a puzzle made of lines through which a path from a point marked “beginning” to a point marked “end” can be traced. Richard has drawn hundreds of them and has even published a book of mazes. The book, which contains about 50 mazes of varying difficulty, was used as one source of income for financing Richard’s mission. (He is currently serving in the Texas San Antonio Mission.)
It was Richard’s father who first thought of using the maze book as a financial resource for a mission. “I promised the Lord that all the money would go into my mission fund,” Richard said. “The books weren’t selling too well to begin with, but last Christmas we had more orders than books and had to have some more printed.” They have now published more than 1,000 copies and hope to have more printed by this Christmas.