Gospel Story Finder

The youth of the American Servicemen’s District of Okinawa had no idea that Brother Toshimitsu Kina’s broken leg would lead them to fighting off nasty snakes and wielding big knives, but that’s exactly what happened when they volunteered to help him with his sugar cane harvest.
The crop had to be brought in, so the district members took to the fields, learning how to cut the cane using “kamas,” and how to avoid “Habu” snakes. But would you believe they had a great time doing it? “It’s hard work, but it feels good,” said Leslie Sousley, 15.
“This harvest is pretty fun because we’re helping someone, we get to eat sugar cane, and it’s a new experience,” said Troy Baker, 13. What could be sweeter?

Elizabeth: That’s an exciting concept to me because of an experience I had last year. I was attending a college where I was the only Mormon. My roommate knew me both before and after I became active in the Church and had even investigated the Church once herself. During this time I was trying very hard to live the way I was supposed to, and so I stayed home a lot of times when my friends were out at parties, R-rated movies, etc. My roommate never said very much to me about the Church or the way I had changed my life, but when I left that school and came to BYU, I received a letter from her. She told me how much she had appreciated the example I had set and that she hadn’t realized the friend I had been to her because of it. But the best part of all is that she also decided to reinvestigate the Church.

Q: You surprised a lot of people when you joined the Church. Could you tell us something about your conversion?
Kresimir: I had never heard about the Church before I came here. In Yugoslavia most of the young people are completely atheistic, and that’s the way I lived. When I came to Provo I didn’t change. I was an atheist for two years while I was in Provo. Nobody was farther from becoming a Mormon than I was. I just lived my way, and people lived their way. I obeyed all the rules of BYU, tried to be as good as I could, and tried to play ball and do my studying and other things. When I was a junior, I decided to figure out a few things. I had things I wanted to know.
I didn’t decide to join the Church because of any one thing. There were some things that I wanted to know. I had a few questions that no one could answer. It just happened. We as Mormons believe in personal things everyone can know by himself. It all depends on how bad you want to know something. That’s the whole point. If we have a desire in the Church to know something, we will know it; there’s no question about that. If something is really bothering you, you probably go to somebody for advice. If it’s football you want to know about—what kind of a play you are going to play—you can ask me, and I don’t have any idea. I just can’t help. It’s the same if you’re going to the wrong church. They can’t give you an answer. So you ask, and find out, and you join the true church. So I just decided to join the Church.
Q: I’ve heard that the Book of Mormon impressed you very much when you were studying the Church. Is this true?
Kresimir: Of course. You just read the book and want to get baptized—and that’s it.
Q: Who gave you the book?
Kresimir: You can buy those books for 50 cents.
Q: What impressed you about the Book of Mormon?
Kresimir: Well, it’s certainly the best book I have ever read. There’s no question about that. The book applies to today’s people much more than in the days when Joseph Smith translated it, because it speaks about the way it is now. I was traveling all over the world, and I saw many places, and I saw most of the prophecies being fulfilled; it’s amazing. That really is a good book. There are many things in it that are coming true now.
Q: Were your friends in Yugoslavia surprised when they learned you had joined the Church?
Kresimir: You bet they were surprised. That’s the last thing they thought was going to happen.
Q: Did joining the Church change your goals in life?
Kresimir: Of course. We talk all the time about being born again. Especially if you have lived the way I did, you better be born completely. You don’t just get in the middle. You’ve got to change all things.
Q: Have you been happier since becoming a member of the Church?
Kresimir: Of course. And if I hadn’t known I would be, I wouldn’t have been baptized.

COLIN: That I really enjoyed showing Christlike love to everyone. There are a lot of hard-hearted people in the world. It’s hard for them to open up and express themselves. That’s why you’ve got to help them show love, to help them live happier lives, to help them gain that success they have always tried to find but that can come only with the eternal perspective of the gospel.
In Sydney, I was assigned to work in the immigrant areas. Every time I knocked on a door, people were a bit surprised because they thought Mormon missionaries were mostly white Americans and white Australians. They had never seen an aboriginal LDS missionary before. We told them we had an important message about Christ and tried to be polite and kind. They really liked it. They said come around again. As we came around again, those that were home invited us in and we taught them a discussion.
COLIN: I hope that for some people I did. Some of the aborigines would see me and say, “What are you doing?” I would say, “I’m a missionary for my church.” And they would say, “I want to be like you and get a good life.” I told them they should try.

The access to God’s covenantal power and His covenantal love is through His Church. The combination of the Savior’s gospel and His Church transforms our lives. It transformed my maternal grandparents. My grandfather Oskar Andersson worked in a shipyard on Högmarsö, an island in the Stockholm archipelago. His wife, Albertina, and their children lived on the Swedish mainland. Once every two weeks, on Saturday, Oskar rowed his boat home for the weekend before returning to Högmarsö on Sunday evening. One day, while on Högmarsö, he heard two American missionaries preach the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Oskar felt that what he heard was pure truth, and he was filled with unspeakable joy.
The next time he returned home, Oskar excitedly told Albertina all about the missionaries. He explained that he believed what they taught. He asked her to read the pamphlets they had given him, and he told her that he didn’t think that any of their future children should be baptized as infants. Albertina was furious and threw the pamphlets on the rubbish heap. Not much was said between them before Oskar returned to work on Sunday evening.
As soon as he was gone, Albertina retrieved those pamphlets. She carefully compared their doctrine with the teachings in her well-worn Bible. She was astonished to feel that what she read was true. The next time Oskar returned home, he received a warm welcome, as did the copy of the Book of Mormon he brought with him. Albertina eagerly read, again comparing the doctrine to that in her Bible. Like Oskar, she recognized pure truth and was filled with unspeakable joy.
Oskar, Albertina, and their children moved to Högmarsö to be close to the few Church members there. A week after Oskar and Albertina were baptized in 1916, Oskar was called to be the group leader on Högmarsö. Like many converts, Oskar and Albertina faced criticism because of their new faith. Local farmers refused to sell them milk, so Oskar rowed across the fjord every day to purchase milk from a more tolerant farmer.
Yet during the ensuing years, Church membership on Högmarsö increased, in part because of Albertina’s powerful testimony and burning missionary zeal. When the group became a branch, Oskar was called as the branch president.
Members of that Högmarsö branch revered that island. This was their Waters of Mormon. This was where they came to a knowledge of their Redeemer.
Over the years, as they kept their baptismal covenant, Oskar and Albertina were transformed by the power of Jesus Christ. They longed to make more covenants and receive their temple blessings. To obtain those blessings, they permanently emigrated from their home in Sweden to Salt Lake City in 1949. Oskar had served as the leader of the members on Högmarsö for 33 years.
The combination of nitroglycerin and kieselguhr made dynamite valuable; the combination of the gospel of Jesus Christ and His Church is beyond price. Oskar and Albertina heard about the restored gospel because a prophet of God had called, assigned, and sent missionaries to Sweden. By divine commission, missionaries taught the doctrine of Christ and by priesthood authority baptized Oskar and Albertina. As members, Oskar and Albertina continued learning, developing, and serving others. They became Latter-day Saints because they kept the covenants they made.

One young woman was concerned because she was dating three different returned missionaries, all of whom proposed marriage. All three indicated they had prayed about it and each knew she was the right one for them. She went to see a priesthood leader to find out how it could be possible that three different young men could all get the same answer about her. The priesthood leader reported that she was a lovely young woman. When she walked into his office, he sensed it was obvious the inspiration these young men were receiving was hormonal revelation, not necessarily spiritual revelation. He then counseled this young lady appropriately, indicating that personal revelation is personal. No one is entitled to receive revelation for someone else unless there is a stewardship relationship. Between a man and a woman, that doesn’t happen until after marriage covenants are made. She needed to find out for herself who was right for her.

“Mormons sometimes discriminate against other Mormons.”
This feeling was expressed in a recent rap between returned Latter-day Saint servicemen and institute students and faculty at Idaho State University. The returned servicemen were invited to talk to student and faculty leaders and tell them how they felt about the institute. The surface niceties were soon forgotten because these men were encouraged to talk frankly about their problems.
The result? A new program of help and encouragement and a resolution on the part of members of the Student Association to go out of their way to make any newcomer to the institute feel welcome.
The servicemen’s comments were accepted at face value by faculty and students alike. President Robert E. Thompson, president of the Idaho State University Stake, summed up the feelings of most when he said, “We have always felt that we were extending the hand of fellowship, that we were welcoming the returned servicemen, but when the truth came out, we found we were falling down. We didn’t realize that they needed something special, something extra. Whether we agree that their assessment of us is correct or not is not important. The important thing is, they feel they need something more and we are not providing it.”
The returned servicemen expressed their feelings of being left out, of finding no place or organization for them.
“When you have been treated like a second-class citizen for so long, you expect to get shoved off the street. I spent four years in the Navy, and the whole time was an intensive training period on catching the cold shoulder. So I’m probably more sensitive than most about recognizing it,” said Terry Van Orden.
Of course, the problem is more complex than it seems. There are many reasons returned servicemen feel as they do.
“A soldier is often in a poor environment. It is unfortunate, but the worst of mankind seems to reveal itself during war. And maybe this is the reason returned servicemen don’t feel equal to returned missionaries. Missionaries are in a situation to see the most beautiful and uplifting parts of mankind; military people see the opposite. This naturally created a state of inequity in my mind; I didn’t feel as good as if I had been serving on a mission. And, of course, I wasn’t treated the same as a returned missionary. But the most important difference to me was that difference inside of me.
“For the first while it was natural for me to be hostile and suspect that people were not sincere because this is what I had been conditioned to expect. But finally I had to get hold of myself and say, ‘Look, these people are trying to help you, and they want to be your friends.’ It took me a while to realize this, but when I did, the change started happening to me, and I began to come around,” said Warren Mallen, a Vietnam veteran.
One ex-Navy man said, “I kept my testimony all the time I was in the service, but when I came back to my home ward, I didn’t feel accepted, and so I became totally inactive. Now because of this special effort at the institute, I really feel that I am on my way back.”
Of course, adjustments back to regular religious life have not all been negative. “The first few days at the institute were a pain in the neck for me because people were unfriendly. So I decided that I had to get involved. I got involved in everything I could, and soon people seemed more friendly,” commented Craig Naylor.
“I went into the service with four of my best buddies,” added Chip Herndon, an ex-marine who was wounded several times and spent a total of sixteen months in hospitals. “One stayed in and the other three died while they were in the service. So I felt like burying myself in the Church when I got home. I had a lot of time alone in the service, and I didn’t like being by myself. I was real glad to be active in the Church, even though it is still hard for me to open up at times.”
The institute panel learned other things about returned servicemen. They learned that there are more than a hundred of them on their campus alone who do not even feel welcome or wanted enough to let others know they are Latter-day Saints, let alone set foot in an institute class.
They learned that being busy and preoccupied with your own studies and assignments can easily be misinterpreted by someone else. “I’ve tried to come here several times during the last two years,” said Terry Van Orden, “but I couldn’t get used to walking down the hall and seeing my people walk by with their chins in the air.”
Those listening to the panel realized that it is common for people to prejudge others. Just as returned missionaries are loved, ex-servicemen are looked on with suspicion. “Talk to any mother; they will all tell you they would rather have their daughters associating with a missionary than with a serviceman,” commented one person. The group feeling was unanimous: “People don’t look at you as a person first and a serviceman second. They don’t care what kind of person you are; most people won’t even give you a chance.”
They talked about specific problems that seem to keep returned servicemen from trying to get back into Church life. Some haven’t been keeping the standards, and they feel they need help from someone who can understand them. Others expressed the idea that it is only natural after feeling the spirit of true love and brotherhood from sincere people to want to reevaluate their own lives.
As a result of this session, a special seminar is held regularly at the institute. Some twenty returned servicemen are now attending, and they have been assured that they are loved and wanted. Here they discuss everything from the gospel principles to career advice to how to combat the feeling that girls are afraid of them. During the seminar they are making friends and beginning to feel at home at the institute.
Discovering how any child of God should be treated was one benefit of the returned servicemen’s session and its resulting seminar. People now understand and practice the quintessence of the gospel. Once these wonderful principles were applied, the servicemen’s seminar became a living, breathing part of the Student Association at Idaho State University. At the same time it promises to be a very important missionary tool.
Institute students and faculty learned several important lessons from this experience that could help you not only to relate better to others but also to be a better follower of the Savior.
“We should not be interested in the history of a person’s problems. If a guy is smoking, we are not going to put him down for that. We simply need to let him know that we are his brothers and sisters, that we want to help him, and that we care about him. We are not interested in what he was but in what he can become.”
“Many people are basically shy and have a hard time communicating—not the passing-the-time-of-day kind of talk, but really expressing their feelings from deep down inside. In order to do this they have to want to express their feelings and then feel comfortable about how they will be received.”
“It is easy for people who are extra sensitive to feel that they are being looked down on. In addition to the servicemen, non–Latter-day Saints on this campus feel that the Mormons are cliquish and that we look down on them because they are different.”
“Those returned servicemen who seemed to feel the best adjusted were welcomed back into their home wards with a ward party. Then they were asked to report to the bishop and the stake high council about their experiences and their conduct as ward members while they were away. This personal interest made them feel accepted and on more of a par with others in the ward who were returning from school or missions.”
“The most positive experiences these brethren had while they were in the service were when others reacted to them first as people and then as soldiers or sailors, not the reverse.”
Whether in the United States or Japan, people belonging to branches were generally more friendly than people in wards. An ex-sailor said, “One sister in a little branch in Japan kept a three-by-five-inch card for every serviceman who visited there. She and her husband would take you home, and you knew you really had a friend and a place to go if you were ever there again. This kind of experience is the gospel in action to a serviceman.”
“Many returned servicemen have experienced what they call a crash course in growing up. Even though they may be the same age chronologically as other students, they had to grow up under fire on a night patrol or crouched in a bunker with mortar rounds zeroing in on top of them, and so they have good reason for seeming a little older and a little more serious in many ways.
“Because of these kinds of memories, it is harder for them to be as light-hearted and gay as the average college student. They require more drawing out than most.
“It is natural when we see a person from a minority race at the institute to sort of go out of our way to be friendly. But we often tend to by-pass the average-looking student because there are so many of them.”
“There are many Latter-day Saint returned servicemen on this campus, but you can’t recognize them. You go to the student union building and you know that some of the people you see are returned servicemen, and yet you don’t know which ones. We have had some success in locating them by working through the registrars office and also by asking returned servicemen. Terry knew twenty Latter-day Saint returned servicemen on campus who were not affiliated with the Church in any way.”

During World Ward II my husband was a young 18-year-old sailor in the U.S. Navy. He was stationed as a signalman on an attack troop transport ship in the South Pacific. His post was 75 feet above the water line. As a signalman during war time he learned a lot about the value of a strong ship, about the importance of manning your post, knowing the signals, having constant communication with command headquarters, and certainly the power of prayer.
He tells of a very dark, stormy night when security and safety for everyone on board was of major concern. There could be no light outside the ship—not even the light of a match—that could attract the enemy, and give away their location. That night, horrendous waves were pounding against the side of the ship, causing it to list at a 45-degree angle, almost enough to capsize the ship. In the turbulence of this storm, Heber, on the top deck, lost his footing and went sliding on his back toward the outer edge of the ship. Holding both arms high in the air and with a fervent prayer in his heart, he hoped to save himself by catching the two iron chains surrounding the deck before being swept overboard. At that moment the ship reversed its pitch and he started sliding in the other direction and fortunately, was able to regain his footing.

When I was 10, my mother moved us from New York to Utah, away from my father and the rest of our extended family. What was meant to be the two of us quickly became just me, as I rarely saw my mom due to her extensive work hours.
I grew accustomed to being alone. Although I was sometimes lonely, I often preferred solitude to my mom’s company. Behind closed doors, she was very controlling, and her emotions were unstable due to mental illness. I did my best to avoid upsetting her. She often had sporadic outbursts of anger where I endured harsh yelling and hurtful words.
During this time, church and seminary were places of refuge. I looked forward to those moments where I felt the Spirit, because they sustained me the rest of the week.
At times, my mom’s words challenged my faith. She was supposed to teach me what was right. But if I was doing what was right, then why was I suffering?
The Spirit reminded me that the gospel is perfect but people are imperfect. I couldn’t let her influence my thoughts and testimony of the gospel. Even so, I let my doubts get the better of me for a time.
When I went to college, I wondered what would happen if I stopped going to church, reading my scriptures, or praying. It was the worst experiment of my life! After two months, I felt like Heavenly Father was telling me, “Never do that again!” Feeling the light of the gospel return to my life really helped me realize how much Christ had been with me through my difficult, lonely childhood.
As I strengthened my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, I realized that things with my mom needed to change. I knew then that He had been with me throughout my childhood and that He would be with me as I tried to mend my heart and forgive my mom.
My mom and I decided to attend counseling, but she soon stopped coming. Once again, I was left alone, wondering if she even cared about me. But once again, Christ did not leave me alone.
As I continued to attend, He helped me change my expectations for my mom. I knew that I couldn’t change her, but I could forgive her while establishing boundaries to protect myself from further harm.
Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said: “When hurt and pain are deep, repairing our relationships and healing our hearts is hard, perhaps impossible for us on our own. But heaven can give us strength and wisdom beyond our own to know when to hold on and how to let go.”
By far the most important part of my healing has been putting the Savior first in my life. I try to keep myself as close to Him as possible, and I’ve seen how strong His power really is.
To me, true happiness is a relationship with Jesus Christ. He can bring light and joy to even the darkest of places.
And, to my surprise, happiness is now also family. I’m married and have a daughter of my own, and I do all I can to be a good example to her and to help her feel the power of Christ in her life. Although my family relationships used to be a source of pain, Christ has helped me realize that I can have happiness in my family when He is part of it.
Elder L. Tom Perry (1922-2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Family is the center of life and is the key to eternal happiness.”
If you are currently experiencing hardship in your family or are trying to heal, lean on Christ. He’s the only person who truly understands, and He can help you forgive, heal, and know how to move forward with those relationships.
As you build a relationship with Christ, He will be your foundation.

Katie* was going roller-skating for her birthday party and was thinking about whom to invite. She wanted Jenny and Vicki to come—they were in her Primary class. She would invite Teresa, too, of course. She was Katie’s best friend.
As Katie waited for her Primary teacher to start the class, she noticed Alice walk in. Alice didn’t come to Primary very often. Her clothes looked worn, and her hair wasn’t combed. Katie thought that Alice’s words sounded funny when she talked and that Alice smelled strange. Alice hardly ever said anything at all. She mostly just sat there with her head down. Katie thought that Alice had probably never been invited to a birthday party.
Katie had been to Alice’s house once, when Mom was delivering something to Alice’s mother for Relief Society. Alice’s family was very large, and Katie wondered where they all slept, because they lived in a small trailer. When Mom had knocked on the door and one of the older children answered, Katie could see how dirty it was inside. Mom explained what she had and asked that it be given to Alice’s mother. The boy didn’t say anything. He just took it and shut the door. Katie was glad for her own clean home, even if she did have to share a room with her older sister, Tara.
Looking at Alice now, Katie remembered that visit, and she felt bad for the sad-faced girl sitting alone. She thought about Jesus and how He treated those who were poor, or sick, or didn’t fit in.
The next day when Mom asked if she was ready to work on birthday invitations, Katie announced that she would like to invite Alice.
Katie wondered what her friends might think and what Alice might wear. Most of all, Katie worried that Alice wouldn’t come. Katie talked to Mom and to Tara about her concerns, and they worked out a plan.
When it came time to deliver Alice’s invitation, Katie had butterflies in her stomach. Tara went to the door with her. A circle of little faces appeared, but no one spoke. “Is Alice here, please?” Katie asked.
One child left, and a few moments later, Alice was at the door. “Here.” Katie thrust the white envelope toward her. “This is for you. It’s an invitation to my birthday party.”
Alice didn’t say anything, but she looked surprised.
“It’s next Wednesday,” Katie said. “My mom and I will pick you up at eleven.” Katie and her sister said good-bye and got back in the car with big smiles on their faces.
On the way to Alice’s house Wednesday morning, Katie said a silent prayer that Alice would come. When she and Mom arrived, Alice’s whole family was outside. Katie felt awkward with all those children staring at her. She was relieved when Alice came toward her and silently followed Katie into the back seat.
At Katie’s house, Alice was welcomed by Tara.
“We have a while before the other girls arrive,” Katie told her. “Let’s go to Tara’s and my room.”
In the bedroom, Alice looked around, amazed. “Wow! Your room is really pretty!”
Tara opened the closet. “I think we are the same size,” she said to Alice. “I can lend you some pants and a shirt, if you’d like. Then you won’t have to roller-skate in a dress.” She pulled out a pair of blue pants and a matching top. “I think these will fit.”
“You can get dressed in there.” Katie pointed to the bathroom.
Alice looked into the bathroom and seemed ready to cry. “What’s wrong?” Tara asked.
Alice whispered, “Can I wash my hair, please?”
“Of course!” Katie told her kindly. “Would you like us to help you wash it in the sink?”
Tara and Katie helped Alice wash her hair. They helped her comb and style her hair, then left her alone to bathe and dress.
When Alice came out, there was a smile on her face. It was the first time Katie had ever seen her smile.
“Let’s eat,” the sisters said as they led Alice to the kitchen.
Alice didn’t say much during lunch, but she seemed to enjoy the food, and she ate everything on her plate.
After lunch, Tara took Alice aside and showed her the present she had gotten for Katie. “I have some paper we can wrap it in, and a marker to sign our names.”
“Oh!” Alice was excited. “I would love to give Katie a present.”
She and Tara wrapped the present and printed their names neatly on the outside.
Then the other party guests started to arrive. Katie had told her friends that Alice was going to be there. Each greeted Alice kindly, and soon she was talking with everyone. They opened presents and ate birthday cake. On the way to the roller rink, Katie didn’t get to sit by Alice—one of the other girls wanted to.
Katie and Teresa took Alice’s hands and helped her skate around the circular room. Alice giggled with delight. Katie had never heard Alice laugh before. Soon everyone was taking turns being Alice’s partner.
One of the girls came up to Katie and said, “I wish I had invited Alice to my birthday party.”
“There is always next year,” Katie said.
When the party was over, Mom took Alice home. Before getting out of the car, she grabbed Katie’s hand, squeezed hard, and said, “Thank you.”
As Katie rode home, she thought about her birthday presents. She liked them all, but her favorite one was the smile, laugh, and “Thank you” from Alice.

Thirty-seven years after her baptism, with a heart firmly fixed through persecutions in Missouri and the eventual assassination of Joseph Smith, Eliza remained a committed Latter-day Saint. On June 22, 1872, she shared about her conversion with a group of women in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA: “When I heard it announced that the Lord had spoken from heaven and a record had been brought forth I was deeply interested. I prayed unto the Lord to let me know if the work were true, covenanting with him if he did so that I would ever praise his name.” After her baptism, she said, she attended Church meetings. “We were called upon to speak; I dared not refuse for I had promised God I would ever praise his name in the congregation of the Saints.”8 Her continual conversion required her continued witness.

As a young missionary serving in the Central States Mission, Elder Kimball was traveling on a train to Chicago, Illinois, when a man approached him.
Man: Hey there, young fellow. I have a book that I think you’ll like.
It was a vulgar book filled with obscene pictures. Spencer wouldn’t touch it.
Elder Kimball: You are wrong, sir. That book does not appeal to me.
The man tried a different approach.
Man: Come into the city with me. I’ll show you where you can have a good time.
Elder Kimball: Absolutely not. I am a representative of Jesus Christ, and I will not follow where you go.
The man realized that the young missionary was in earnest and finally left him alone. Spencer recorded in his journal that he could feel himself blush for an hour.
Elder Kimball: Oh, how hard Satan, through his imps, tries to lead young people astray.I thank the Lord that I had the power to resist.

“Are you crazy?” Erroll Bennett’s father raged when he heard of his son’s intention to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Have you gone mad? You’ll have to give up everything—everything you’ve worked for. You can’t possibly know what you’re doing!”
Waving aside his son’s protestations, he insisted: “If you do this, I don’t want to know you. Take everything in this house that belongs to you and don’t ever set foot across this door again.”
Driving with his wife to his parents’ home that evening in 1977, pondering how he would break the news, Erroll reflected on the recent events that had begun to change his life so dramatically.
Yet none of this pressure had been as difficult to cope with as the prospect of facing his own father, whom he loved and respected deeply, and who was passionately proud of his son’s sporting accomplishments.
To hear Brother Bennett recreate the scene today is to recognize that the experience touched him deeply. He had always been close to his parents, but now his father was adamant. “You have erected a wall between us. I want no more to do with you.” And, he added, he would not want to see his son’s third child—the baby his wife was then expecting.
Erroll and his wife left his parents’ home that evening in tears, desperately unhappy, yet knowing they could not reject the gospel. The depth of their conviction would now have to prove equal to whatever pressures were brought to bear.
Erroll’s first action, though he still was not a member, was to seek out his friend, Bishop Terooatea, for counsel. The footballer fondly recalls how the bishop listened, then urged Erroll to make the first step in reconciliation, to put aside the question of baptism until he had made this final attempt. He then explained the principle of priesthood blessings and of how priesthood authority could be used to help him.
That evening, Erroll received a priesthood blessing for the first time, with longtime LDS friend and fellow soccer enthusiast Noel Tarati acting as voice. Brother Tarati quietly promised Erroll that the difficult problem would be resolved, and that his father would receive him if he returned, even though some strong things had been said.
The next day, Erroll again drove out to his father’s home. As he approached the house, he could see his father standing by the gate to the front garden. There were tears in his eyes. “I want you to forgive me, Erroll,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about it. If you hadn’t come here first, I would have come to you.”
Then he continued: “You know that thousands of people will be disappointed in you. It will mean the end of your career if you won’t play on Sundays. You know that Napoléon Spitz isn’t going to change the entire football league schedule just to accommodate you. Still, this is your decision. All I ask is that you don’t raise the subject again. It’s closed.”

Michelle stood up in front of the entire Primary, not sure if she was ready to do this. In Primary during the month of April, they were talking about Jesus Christ’s Atonement. Michelle had been excited when it was her class’s turn to give the talk and say the prayer in opening exercises. She had asked if she could give the talk, knowing just what she would talk about.
But now she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach was feeling funny, and her mouth was dry. Then she saw her mom and dad in the back of the room and remembered the prayer they had together that morning. Now she didn’t feel quite so scared anymore.
Michelle took a deep breath and held up a picture of a tiny baby. “This is my brother. His name is David Alan, and he would have been three years old this year. But when he was born, he couldn’t breathe very well. He stayed alive in the hospital long enough to have a blessing, and then he died. I never got to see my brother, and sometimes I’m really sad about that.”
Then Michelle held up a picture of Jesus. “But because of the Atonement and Resurrection, I don’t have to be sad all the time. When Jesus died and came back to life, He made it possible for my little brother to one day have a perfect body. That will happen when Jesus comes back to earth and people are resurrected. I can hardly wait, because then I will see my little brother again.”
Michelle held up her brother’s picture again. “I know sometimes people have to die. My family still gets sad sometimes when we think of David Alan. But we know that Jesus suffered for our sins, died for us, and was resurrected so that we can be resurrected too.
“I’m glad I’ll be able to see my little brother and that he will be healthy. I’m also glad that Heavenly Father and Jesus loved us enough to make the Atonement happen so we can see the people we love again. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Michelle stepped down from the podium. When she went to the back of the room, she gave her mom and dad a big hug.
“You did a wonderful job,” Mom whispered.
“We love you so much,” Dad said.
Michelle felt happy after her talk because Heavenly Father put a good feeling in her heart. She knew He loved her too.

In the words of a well-known song, I wish you could “come fly with me” to eastern Germany, where I visited many times. Not long ago, as I traveled along the autobahns, I reflected on a time almost 35 years before when I saw on the same autobahns just trucks carrying armed soldiers and policemen. Barking dogs everywhere strained on their leashes, and informers walked the streets. Back then, the flame of freedom had flickered and burned low. A wall of shame sprang up, and a curtain of iron came down. Hope was all but snuffed out. Life, precious life, continued on in faith, nothing wavering. Patient waiting was required. An abiding trust in God marked the life of each Latter-day Saint.
When I made my initial visit beyond the wall, it was a time of fear on the part of our members as they struggled in the performance of their duties. I found the dullness of despair on the faces of many passersby but a bright and beautiful expression of love emanating from our members. In Görlitz the building in which we met was shell-pocked from the war, but the interior reflected the tender care of our leaders in bringing brightness and cleanliness to an otherwise shabby and grimy structure. The Church had survived both a world war and the cold war which followed. The singing of the Saints brightened every soul. They sang the old Sunday School favorite:
If the way be full of trial; Weary not!
If it’s one of sore denial, Weary not!
If it now be one of weeping,
There will come a joyous greeting,
When the harvest we are reaping—Weary not!
Do not weary by the way,
Whatever be thy lot;
There awaits a brighter day
To all, to all who weary not!
I was touched by their sincerity. I was humbled by their poverty. They had so little. My heart filled with sorrow because they had no patriarch. They had no wards or stakes—just branches. They could not receive temple blessings—neither endowment nor sealing. No official visitor had come from Church headquarters in a long time. The members were forbidden to leave the country. Yet they trusted in the Lord with all their hearts, and they leaned not to their own understanding. In all their ways they acknowledged Him, and He directed their paths. 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.”
That night as I realized what I had promised, I dropped to my knees and prayed: “Heavenly 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, therefore, fulfill the promise in the lives of this noble people.” There coursed through my mind the words from the psalm, “Be still, and know that I am God.” The heavenly virtue of patience was required.
Little by little the promise was fulfilled. First, patriarchs were ordained, then lesson manuals produced. Wards were formed and stakes created. Chapels and stake centers were begun, completed, and dedicated. Then, miracle of miracles, a holy temple of God was permitted, designed, constructed, and dedicated. Finally, after an absence of 50 years, approval was granted for full-time missionaries to enter the nation and for local youth to serve elsewhere in the world. Then, like the wall of Jericho, the Berlin Wall crumbled, and freedom, with its attendant responsibilities, returned.
All of the parts of the precious promise of almost 35 years earlier were fulfilled, save one. Tiny Görlitz, where the promise had been given, still had no chapel of its own. Now, even that dream became a reality. The building was approved and completed. Dedication day dawned. Sister Monson and I, along with Elder and Sister Dieter Uchtdorf, held a meeting of dedication in Görlitz. The same songs were sung as were rendered all those years earlier. The members knew the significance of the occasion, marking the total fulfillment of the promise. They wept as they sang. The song of the righteous was indeed a prayer unto the Lord and had been answered with a blessing upon their heads.
At the conclusion of the meeting we were reluctant to leave. As we did so, seen were the waving hands of all, heard were the words, “Auf Wiedersehen, auf Wiedersehen; God be with you till we meet again.”

When our youngest daughter, Berkeley, was little, I started using reading glasses?the kind that zoom in and magnify everything. One day, as we sat together reading a book, I looked at her with love but also sadness because, suddenly, she seemed more grown up. I thought, “Where has the time gone? She’s so big!”
As I lifted my reading glasses to wipe away a tear, I realized, “Oh wait—she’s not bigger; it’s just these glasses! Never mind!”
Sometimes all we can see is that up-close, magnified view of those we love. Tonight, I invite you to zoom out and look through a different lens—an eternal lens that focuses on the big picture, your bigger story.
During humankind’s early push into space, the unmanned rockets had no windows. But by the Apollo 8 mission to the moon, the astronauts had one. While floating in space, they were struck by the power of seeing our earth and took this spectacular image, capturing the whole world’s attention! Those astronauts experienced a sensation so powerful it has been given its own name: the overview effect.
NASA
Viewing from a new vantage point changes everything. One space traveler said it “reduces things to a size that you think everything is manageable. … We can do this. Peace on earth—no problem. It gives people that type of energy … that type of power.”
As humans, we have an earthbound point of view, but God sees the grand overview of the universe. He sees all creation, all of us, and is filled with hope.
Is it possible to begin to see as God sees even while living on the surface of this planet—to feel this overview feeling? I believe we can, through the eye of faith, zoom out and view ourselves and our families with hope and joy.
The scriptures agree. Moroni speaks about those whose faith was so “exceedingly strong” that they “truly saw … with an eye of faith, and they were glad.”
With an eye focused on the Savior, they felt joy and knew this truth: because of Christ, it all works out. Everything you and you and you are worried about—it’s all going to be OK! And those who look with an eye of faith can feel that it’s going to be OK now.
I went through a rough patch my senior year in high school when I wasn’t making great choices. I remember seeing my mom crying, and I wondered if I’d disappointed her. At the time, I worried that her tears meant she’d lost hope for me, and if she didn’t feel hope for me, maybe there wasn’t a way back.
But my dad was more practiced at zooming out and taking the long view. He’d learned from experience that worry feels a lot like love, but it’s not the same. He used the eye of faith to see that everything would work out, and his hopeful approach changed me.
When I graduated from high school and went to BYU, my dad sent letters reminding me of who I was. He became my cheerleader, and everybody needs a cheerleader—someone who isn’t telling you, “You’re not running fast enough”; they’re lovingly reminding you that you can.
Dad exemplified Lehi’s dream. Like Lehi, he knew that you don’t chase after your loved ones who feel lost. “You stay where you are and call them. You go to the tree, stay at the tree, keep eating the fruit and, with a smile on your face, continue to beckon to those you love and show by example that eating the fruit is a happy thing!”
This visual image has helped me during low moments when I find myself at the tree, eating the fruit and crying because I’m worried; and really, how helpful is that? Instead, let’s choose hope—hope in our Creator and in one another, fueling our ability to be better than we are right now.
Shortly after Elder Neal A. Maxwell passed away, a reporter asked his son what he’d miss most. He said dinners at his parents’ house because he always left feeling like his dad believed in him.
This was around the time our adult children were starting to come home for Sunday dinners with their spouses. During the week, I found myself making lists in my mind of things I could remind them of on Sunday, like “Maybe try and help out more with the kids when you’re home” or “Don’t forget to be a good listener.”
When I read Brother Maxwell’s comment, I threw away the lists and silenced that critical voice, so when I saw my grown children for that brief time each week, I focused on the many positive things they were already doing. When our oldest son, Ryan, passed away a few years later, I remember being grateful our time together was happier and more positive.

If you are Vaga Babayan, 16, of the Severozamoskvoretsky Branch, you’ll rejoice in the hope of the future.
Two years ago, Vaga and his family, frightened by continual earthquakes in Armenia, moved to Moscow. His father found employment in a bakery run by relatives. Although Vaga studies hard all day, he also helps with the family business.
“One day my father and my sister met the missionaries. Dad invited them to our house. My mother had been searching for the truth and was excited to learn. They kept teaching us. Every time they came over, I felt a warmth in my soul. Three months later, my mother, my sister, and I were baptized.” His father, in Vaga’s words, is “still working” toward baptism.
“There are a lot of great things in Moscow,” Vaga says. “But the greatest of all is that I became acquainted with the Church here. The growth of the Church in Russia is creating a new history in our own lives.”
The power to change. That’s also a great gift, a gift even those with 850 years of experience might appreciate.

A young father was literally sinking. He, his two children, and his father-in-law had gone for a walk around a lake. They were surrounded by majestic pine-covered mountains, and the sky was blue, filled with soft white clouds, emanating beauty and serenity. When the children grew hot and tired, the two men decided to put the children on their backs and swim the short distance across the lake.
It seemed easy—until the moment when the father began to feel pulled down, everything becoming so heavy. Water pushed him to the bottom of the lake, and a frantic feeling came over him. How was he going to keep afloat—and do so with his precious young daughter on his back?
His voice disappeared in the distance as he called out; his father-in-law was too far away to answer a desperate plea for help. He felt alone and helpless.
Near panic, he realized that his water-saturated shoes were weighing him down. While working to stay afloat, he began to attempt to get his heavy shoes off his feet. But it was as if they were held on with suction. The laces were swollen with water, cinching the grip even tighter.
In what may have been his last moment of desperation, he managed to pry the shoes from his feet, and at last the shoes released their hold, quickly falling to the bottom of the lake. Free from the heavy weight that had been dragging him down, he immediately propelled himself and his daughter upward. He could now swim forward, moving toward safety on the other side of the lake.

One reader wrote about the difficulty—and necessity—of getting involved in more of the process: “One cold December night, I came to realize that until I believed the Lord and received his counsel through priesthood blessings and the scriptures, I could not progress. My emotional and spiritual health, as well as my eternal progression, hinged on this. I had to trust my Heavenly Father!

“How does a person learn to believe spiritual things that are so different from earthly experiences? After many hours of prayer and tears, I found the answer in Alma 32:27: ‘If ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words.’

“When I read those words, I burst into tears. I did have a desire, and as I let it work in me, as the scripture promised, I found a place for a portion of his words. On my knees, I felt the Lord ‘take [my] stony heart’ and give me a ‘heart of flesh’ (Ezek. 11:19). In the months that followed, I could feel a change in me.”

I had a wonderful childhood growing up in Hilo. I was a fearless, determined tomboy. I was the kickball champ in my neighborhood, I climbed guava trees, burned rubbish in the backyard, and I climbed down the very steep banks to the Wailuku River and caught frogs and crayfish with my brothers. But there is one memory that is not a pleasant one.

When I was 13 years old, my father bought an old faded light blue Plymouth clunker for $50. No one used it and this car sat at the bottom of our long, sloping driveway for weeks. One day, I decided that I could learn to drive this car by myself. I got the key and started it up. I soon learned that the clutch needed to be stepped in to keep the car from jerking forward.

Soon I learned to reverse the car. Up and down the driveway I went, feeling so grown up and capable. Soon I had my little 6 year old sister and 5 neighbor children in the backseat squealing with delight. Up and down the driveway we went. Meanwhile, my mother discovered what I was doing and she ran out of the house and stood frantically on the porch by the kitchen door saying, "Sally, abunai! Dangerous! Stop! Please, stop!" Did I stop? No! It was too much fun and of course, I knew what I was doing.

I reversed the car up the hill again and this time, the clutch came out too fast and my right foot pressed on the gas pedal. The car quickly jerked backwards, went off the driveway and crashed into the dining room of our home. The glass windows cracked. The back of the car was in the dining room! The children were frightened. No one was hurt but it caused my mother such turmoil and it cost a lot to fix the house. Why did this happen? Because I did not keep the rules. I did not listen to the warnings and obey.