Gospel Story Finder

Toby looked down at the ring Jerome had slipped onto his third finger. “It will keep us close while I am on my mission,” Jerome had said, smiling down at his 10-year-old brother.
Toby knew how special this ring was to Jerome. Their great-uncle had made it and given it to him when he was ordained to the priesthood. The band was silver, and Uncle had painstakingly carved “LDS” out of turquoise and attached it to the band. Toby had never seen the ring off Jerome’s finger. “I won’t take it off my finger until I return it to you in two years,” he had promised his handsome missionary brother.
“Get up, Wind Wolf,” Grandfather called early the next morning. He used Toby’s Indian name only when he wanted him to hurry. “Today we must plant the corn, and old Grandfather Sun will scorch our backs if we do not begin soon.”
Toby quickly dressed, ate a biscuit, drank a glass of milk, and hurried outside. He loved helping Grandfather plant the corn, and he knew that if he kept busy, he wouldn’t miss Jerome as much.
Grandfather dug holes with the narrow, wooden spade that he had made himself. Toby crawled along the rows, dropping two kernels of corn into each hole from the leather pouch he wore around his neck. The sun caused bright sparkles to dance across the silver band on Jerome’s ring, making Toby squint at times.
When all the corn had been planted, Toby and Grandfather looked around at the large plot, pleased with their work.
Still on his knees, Toby reached up to wipe his forehead. He gasped, “Jerome’s ring! It’s gone!” He jumped up, looking frantically.
Grandfather placed his hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Nothing will be accomplished by acting like a chicken with its head cut off. You walk up and down these rows and look for the ring. I will do the same on the rows over there.”
But they did not find the ring.
“Oh, Grandfather, what can I do? The ring means so much to Jerome.”
“There is One who knows where the ring is,” Grandfather said, kneeling on the ground.
Of course! Heavenly Father knew where the ring was. He would help them find it. Toby knelt beside his wise grandfather.
“Now I am sure that I will find it,” Toby said. He got up and began to slowly walk up and down each row again.
But the ring still couldn’t be found.
“Why doesn’t Heavenly Father show me where the ring is?” Toby asked impatiently. “He knows that Jerome is serving him.”
“We will ask again tonight and look again tomorrow,” Grandfather said.
The next morning Toby was on his hands and knees when the sun cast its first beams across the field. He crawled along each row, looking desperately for the ring. Grandfather found him slumped against the hogan.
“Grandfather, I have prayed many times and have gone over every inch of the cornfield. Why doesn’t Heavenly Father show me where it is?”
“Heavenly Father knows where the ring is, Toby. If he wants us to find it, we will—but in his own time.”
“Why wouldn’t he want me to find it right now?”
“Maybe there is something you need to find even more than the ring,” Grandfather answered.
“What would I need to find more than Jerome’s ring?”
“That is something you must find out for yourself.”
Sometimes Grandfather doesn’t make any sense, Toby thought. If my prayer isn’t answered right now, the ring will be lost forever.
But it was not found that day, either.
Each morning Toby got up early and made his way slowly and carefully through the cornfield, hoping to find at last the turquoise and silver ring. But he found nothing. He was very discouraged, but he continued to ask Heavenly Father to help him.
“Why don’t you fast about it?” suggested his good friend Vincent.
Toby remembered the lesson his Primary teacher had given on fasting and on how miracles may happen when fasting and prayer are used together. He had thought that fasting was just for grown-ups. The more he thought about it now, however, the more he liked the idea.
It was hard going to school without breakfast, and even harder when all his friends brought out their lunches. But at the end of the school day, he felt good inside. He did not find the ring as he went through the cornfield that evening, but he did find peace. He felt very close to Heavenly Father.
One early morning a few weeks later, Toby heard his grandfather call, “Wind Wolf, come quickly!”
Toby ran outside wondering what was wrong. “Where are you, Grandfather?”
“Here in the cornfield.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
Grandfather pointed at a small, green plant sticking up through the brown soil.
“Jerome’s ring!” Toby fell on his hands and knees to see better. The bright, green cornstalk had grown through the silver band and lifted the ring right out of the ground. “It is as if the cornstalk is handing it to me.” Toby carefully lifted it from the tender seedling.
That evening when Grandfather was hoeing in the cornfield, Toby wanted to be near him. “Grandfather, you are very wise.”
“Many years make much experience; much experience makes much wisdom.” Grandfather smiled at Toby.
“I think I know now what it was that I needed to find more than Jerome’s ring.”
Grandfather sat down and leaned against a fence post. “Tell me,” he said, motioning for Toby to sit beside him.
“Well, if I had found Jerome’s ring right away, I would never have prayed all the times I did. I knew that I really needed Heavenly Father’s help, so I prayed differently than I usually do. I really talked to him. And when I fasted, I felt really good.”
“So what did you find, my grandson?”
“I found Heavenly Father’s love for me, Grandfather.” Neither Toby nor Grandfather said anything for a time. Then Grandfather said, “Tomorrow you must write to your brother about his first convert.”

One never knows what a little kindness can generate. One January, while serving in Akure in the Nigeria Lagos Mission, I had a small gift that I wanted to give to someone. I wondered, “Whom can I give it to that will benefit from it?” I took the gift to church two Sundays, yet I was undecided.
On the third Sunday, I went to church thinking I would give it to a good friend. He did not come to church that day, but I had a feeling that someone else needed it. Looking around the chapel, I saw a boy whose parents were not members of the Church. He seemed so lonely. I felt impressed to give him the gift. I presented it to him, feeling very happy within.
Something wonderful happened. His mother came to church the following Sunday. She thanked me for the gift. She said, “I have been promising my son that I would one day come to church. Today I came to express my gratitude for the gift.” That was how my companion and I met her; since then she has joined the Church. How happy the boy was to see his mom finally baptized.
I know that by small means great things are brought to pass.

In high school I ran cross-country and distance track. I was never very good, but I enjoyed running and worked hard. One day my team was scheduled for a cross-country meet that took place on a particularly hilly course. I’d been practicing hard, so as we lined up in our starting positions, I said a silent prayer to Heavenly Father to ask if He would bless me with success in accordance to my hard work.
The gunshot sounded, and we were off. The first mile was flat and I was feeling pretty well, so I began to run even faster. Surely this was going to be my finest race! Then came the first hill. I ran up as fast as I could and came tearing down the other side. But then there was another hill. This one was even steeper, and I quickly lost my momentum. I started feeling like I might fall down the other side. I held it together, but when I came around the next corner, I saw multiple hills to come. Before long I became very tired. By mile two, other runners continually passed me. I became frustrated with myself for taking the first part of the race so fast, using all the energy that I needed now. I wanted to give up and walk off the course.
I decided to say another silent prayer. I asked my Father in Heaven to bless me with the ability to finish the race. Then the thought came, “Sometimes life gets hard, and it’s all you can do to keep running, but in the end you’ll be glad you didn’t give up and walk.” I was able to finish the race, and while I didn’t run the amazing race I’d wanted to, I gained something that has helped me ever since—a sense for how it may feel to endure to the end.

“After jogging along several hundred miles the monotony was broken by our cattle stampeding. It seemed the longer we went and the harder the cattle worked, the easier they got frightened. The one that terrified me the most was at night. We had had one or two before so the cattle were prepared for one at any moment. I think it was on account of the Indians, or it might have been the large herds of buffalo that we saw daily, that our company was counseled to corral their animals every night. At night the cattle were turned out to feed, they were watched and herded, then brought into the corral. It was made with wagons formed in a large circle with the wheels touching each other with one opening to drive them in, then log chains put across the opening, so they were perfectly secure.
“We were in buffalo country. We had heard what a terrible thing their stampedes were, that not long before a large herd had started on their mad run and that when those in front came to a high bluff of the Platte River, they dashed in and made a bridge for the last ones who trampled to death and drowned their companions.
“One night about two o’clock the whole camp was peacefully sleeping when all at once there came an awful sound of tramping and bellowing, the ground shook, our wagon trembled and rocked. It flashed through my mind in a moment that a herd of buffalo was stampeding and that we would all be trampled to death. So I covered my head and prepared to die. Mother soon called out to Phebe and myself as there was no sound from our little bedroom (the front end of the wagon). I gave a smothered answer from under the bed clothes that I was alive.
“All at once there was a change. It was our own cattle broken out of the corral. Something had frightened them and then they started on their wild, mad run. They had run around and around inside and then broken through the log chains. Nothing could stay them. They scattered over the country for miles and miles. It took our men days and days to gather them back again, and a sorry looking lot they were, those that were left, for some died from exhaustion and others were killed. One pair of the captain’s cows ran up a very steep hill, fell backwards and broke their necks—one pair less to pull his wagon and one pair less to milk (oh the delicious milk—what a luxury on the plains).
“In that stampede there were two or three men hurt, one quite badly. He was a gold digger going to California who had overtaken us and was traveling with our company a while. The California emigrants traveled much faster than the Mormon emigrants. In trying to stop the cattle he was knocked down and trampled on. His groans were hideous. I did not see him again until one day the next winter, when he called on us. During all the time he was there he was down on his knees. He could stand up but could not sit down. I never heard from him again after he left for the gold mines. Old cattlemen say that tame, domestic horned cattle are the most crazy and wildest of all animals in a stampede. It is very singular, but they seem to start all at once, just as if a bolt had struck every one at the same instant.”

Fast-forward to more recent times, about two years ago. David Palmer, having spent several years teaching at the Safford High seminary, had recently become principal of the Thatcher High seminary. Brother Palmer had been playing rec league basketball, where he became acquainted with Brandon. Brandon learned that Brother Palmer’s son, Matthew, age 8 at the time, was about to have surgery to remove a lump in his jaw. Doctors feared it might be cancer.
“Brandon asked if he could visit my son after the surgery,” Brother Palmer explains. “When he visited, he gave him a note and said if Matt would let him know when he came to a game, he’d make a three-point basket and then point to him in the stands.” Sure enough, when the next Thatcher versus Safford basketball game rolled around, there was Matt in the stands with his father. On the first play, Brandon was open for three, sank the shot, and then turned and pointed to his young friend.
Brandon scored 30 points that night, with several baskets from beyond the arc. Each time he scored a three, he pointed at Matthew. That cemented Brandon as a hero to Matt.
That night in family prayer, Matt started asking Heavenly Father to guide Brandon to join the Church. The Palmer family had already been praying to find someone who would want to learn the gospel, and Matt was sure Brandon was an answer to that prayer.

From the very start of our journey, I was moved by President Kimball and Sister Kimball’s concern for the others traveling with them. When my wife and I boarded the airplane in Salt Lake City, we took seats to the side and in back of President Kimball. A few minutes after the plane took off and the seat belt sign was turned off, President Kimball turned around and said to us, “Are you comfortable?” I was there to serve him and the others traveling with him, and yet he showed this concern for us. Throughout the entire trip this great, kind, friendly man was always interested in the welfare of the people around him. We felt so comfortable traveling with him because of his warmth and graciousness.

That’s a fine looking hole you’re digging, son,” Daddy said. “What’s it going to be?”
“A grave,” Aaron answered.
Daddy’s brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “A grave? What for?”
“A bird. Katie found it. We’re about ready for the funeral. Do you want to come?”
“I think I might,” Daddy replied.
Just then Katie marched solemnly down the walk, bearing a shoe box in her arms. Andy, Jana, and Shauna followed, carrying peach blossoms and flowers.
“Do you want to look in the box, Daddy?” Katie asked, lifting the lid.
There on a fluff of blue silk lay a robin, red breast up and feet sticking in the air.
“Poor little fellow,” Daddy said.
“Mama said he’s probably quite happy,” Katie responded.
“By the way, where is Mama?” Daddy asked.
“Coming,” Mama called. She had stopped to pick a daffodil.
Gently Katie laid the box in the hole.
“Your robin is being buried by my lizard,” Andy remarked.
“His lizard had a silent funeral, because lizards don’t make any sound,” Jana explained to her parents.
“When we have funerals for creatures, we do the same as they do,” Aaron elaborated. “That’s why we don’t preach in bird funerals, because birds don’t preach. They just sing. So now we’ll sing.”
Katie waved her arms and everyone sang, “Up, up in the sky, where the little birds fly …” After the song, Aaron carefully shoveled dirt over the box, mounding it neatly, then everyone arranged their flowers on top.
“Have a nice sleep, little bird,” Katie said. Looking up at Mama and Daddy, she added “We’ve named this place Sleepy Hollow.”
“How lovely,” Mama said.
As the family sat around the supper table that evening, the children were thoughtful.
“Mama, why did you say Katie’s robin was probably happy?” Jana asked.
“I know,” Andy spoke up, “because it doesn’t have to eat worms anymore.”
“How do you know?” Aaron asked.
“Because robins will go to heaven and worms won’t.”
“Who said so?” Aaron persisted.
“Both Mama and Daddy,” answered Andy. “When Mama found a worm in her apple, she said, ‘Ugh, the filthy thing.’ And you remember when Daddy read to us that no filthy thing would go to heaven?”
“Inherit the kingdom of heaven,” Aaron corrected.
“It means the same thing. Worms won’t get to heaven.”
“How do you know robins will?” Aaron asked.
“They will,” Katie piped up, “because robins are always cheerful. Even when it rains, they sing.”
“Daddy, will there be birds in heaven?” Aaron asked.
“I can’t quite imagine heaven without them,” Daddy answered.
“What about rabbits and squirrels?” Jana asked.
“I can only tell you what the scriptures say about it,” Daddy replied. “Usually, when we talk about the resurrection, we think of people. But the scriptures teach us that man, the earth, and all the life upon it will be resurrected, mentioning especially the beasts, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea. The Savior gave His life so that everything would rise from the dead, even lizards and robins.”
“Where will everything go?” asked Aaron.
“There will be a place prepared for everything. The Bible tells us that John saw noble beasts in heaven.”
There was a thoughtful silence, then Andy spoke. “I know some noble beasts—our cow and Grandpa’s horse.”
“Woodpeckers are noble,” Katie added. “You should see the noble hole one pecked in Uncle Perry’s barn. The sparrows later built a nest in it.”
“Heavenly Father is mindful of all His creations,” Mama said. “And He knows exactly where they will go, for they are important to Him.”
“That’s what our Primary teacher said in the lesson about being kind to animals,” Jana added.
“I like to think about having pets in heaven,” Andy remarked.
Leaning contentedly back in her chair, Katie sighed. “I’m thinking what heaven must really be like. I can imagine bluebirds and pink birds and yellow and green birds all singing and baby kittens purring and flowers blooming and lots of strawberries to eat. Heaven will have families who love each other just like we do. And we can thank Jesus for what He did for us.”
“You’re right, dear,” Mama said. “And when you kneel and pray to our Father in heaven in the name of Jesus Christ, you can thank Him now and every day.”

Soon after he was ordained a deacon, his father took him to his first stake priesthood meeting. To open the meeting, the men sang a wonderful song about the Prophet Joseph Smith: “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, no. 27). Of that experience, President Hinckley said: “Something happened within me as I heard those men of faith sing. It touched my heart. … I felt a great moving power, both emotional and spiritual. I had never had it previously in terms of any Church experience. There came into my heart a conviction that the man of whom they sang was really a prophet of God. I knew then, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God.” That feeling never left him, and throughout his life, Gordon B. Hinckley has borne a powerful testimony of our first latter-day prophet, Joseph Smith.

One summer my father said that he had a big job for me and my brother, Clay, to do. Pointing to a nearby field with a bunch of lambs in it, Dad said that he’d share any money that we made from raising them and selling them in the fall.
We were excited. There were about 350 lambs, and all we had to do was feed them. However, none of the lambs had mothers. They had all been lost in a violent storm. To feed one or two baby lambs is easy, but to feed 350 of them was a real job. There was plenty of grass, but the lambs needed milk. So we made some long, V-shaped troughs out of boards. Next, we got a tin washtub, ground up some grain, and put it into the tub. Then we added milk to make a thin mash.
We herded the lambs to the troughs and, pointing to the food, said, “Eat!” They just stood there looking at us. We tried pushing their noses down into the milky mash, hoping that they’d get a taste and want more. We tried wriggling our fingers in the mixture to get them to suck our fingers. Some of them would drink, but most of them ran away.
Many of the lambs were starving to death. The only way that we could be sure they were eating was to pick them up two at a time, hold them in our arms like babies, and feed them.
At night the coyotes would sit up on the hill and howl. The next morning we’d see the results of their night’s work, and we’d bury two or three more lambs.
Clay and I soon forgot about becoming rich. All we wanted to do was save our lambs. It really wasn’t too bad until I made a pet of one of the lambs and gave it a name. It was always under my feet, and it knew my voice. I loved that lamb. One morning it didn’t come when I called it. Later that day I found it under the willow trees by the creek. It wad dead. With tears streaming down my face, I picked up my lamb and went to find my father. Looking up at Dad, I said, “Isn’t there someone who can help us feed our lambs?”
After a long moment he said, “Jayne, a long time ago, Someone Else said almost those same words. He said, ‘Feed my lambs. … Feed my sheep.’” (John 21:15–16.) Dad put his arm around me and let me cry for a long time, then went with me to bury my lamb.
Many years later, while pondering Moses 1:39, I came to understand Dad’s words. The scripture reads: “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of [all mankind].” As I thought about the mission of the Savior, I remembered the summer of the lambs, and I sensed how the Savior must feel with so many lambs to feed, so many souls to save. And I knew in my heart that He needed my help.

I was born and raised in the Philippines, where I met and married my wife, Monina. It was there that our son, Mark, was born. In the mid-1990s, our family moved to Saipan, which is a small island in the Pacific. There, we were active members of another church. Occasionally, I’d see pairs of young men walking around the island, dressed neatly in white shirts and ties. I knew they were Latter-day Saint missionaries, but I had no plans to join another church. When I saw them coming my way, I would literally turn and run in the opposite direction.

My attitude toward the missionaries changed when two friends, Mel and Soledad Espinosa, were baptized into the Church. They encouraged our family to meet with the missionaries, and mostly out of curiosity, we agreed to do so. Our first meeting was in August 2007, and as the missionaries shared their message, I felt something powerful. My heart beat faster, and I felt a tingling sensation throughout my entire body. I later learned that my entire family felt inspired and uplifted. Our feelings intensified in the ensuing months as we learned more about the gospel of Jesus Christ.

About the time we began meeting with the missionaries, Monina’s energy began to decrease, and strange bumps started appearing all over her body. Her arthritis flared up as it never had before. We sought medical help, but none of the tests gave us any answers. As the months passed, her health deteriorated to the point that she needed additional medical attention. In December, Monina flew to the Philippines to meet with doctors there. I stayed in Saipan so I could continue to work and care for our teenage son.

Before she left, Monina told me that she wanted to be baptized when she returned to Saipan. She also asked me to continue meeting with the missionaries even though she would be missing some of the lessons. I promised her that Mark and I would do so.

During her time in the Philippines, we talked regularly so that I could hear about her doctor visits and she could hear what we were learning about the gospel. My wife reported that she was feeling less and less pain every day, and I was glad that the medical attention was working. In early January 2008, I purchased a plane ticket so I could go visit her, but she felt certain that she would be back in Saipan soon and that there was no need to waste money on the trip. She told me she loved and missed our son and me but assured me everything would be all right.

Three days later she died suddenly. The cause: undetected leukemia. Mark and I were stunned—and heartbroken. We immediately traveled to the Philippines for the funeral and then returned to Saipan. This was the most difficult time of our lives.

The sorrow I felt was profound, so much so that I found it hard to get out of bed each morning. One particularly difficult day, Mark reminded me of something the missionaries had taught our family. He said, “Dad, don’t cry too much. Mom is in a place of God. She is in the spirit world.” How grateful I felt that a just God had provided a way for Monina to continue to learn about the gospel, that everyone who has ever lived will have a chance to either accept or reject the gospel of Jesus Christ—either in this life or the next.

As I continued to learn the teachings of Jesus Christ, I realized that Heavenly Father had provided much more than that: He also made it possible for her to receive essential ordinances like baptism. Before my wife left for the Philippines, she and I had started talking about being baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Even though she wasn’t able to be baptized in this life, Heavenly Father had not left us without hope.

Mark and I faced several trials in the following months. After returning to the Philippines for my wife’s funeral, I lost my job. I sold our car to pay Monina’s hospital bills. Plus, Mark and I had to adjust to life without Monina. Despite the adversity, Mark and I found hope in our newfound faith, and we were baptized in April 2008. In the months that followed, I was able to find another job and pay the hospital bills. Mark and I made a goal to attend our branch trip to the Manila Philippines Temple so we could be sealed together as a family.

After saving all our extra income and preparing ourselves spiritually, Mark and I traveled with our branch to the temple in May 2009. As we prepared for the trip, we saw firsthand the destructive hand of the adversary as well as the strengthening and uplifting love of our Heavenly Father. I got extremely sick the day before we were scheduled to leave for the temple. Some members had unexpected immigration problems, while others had trouble obtaining passports. Our friends who introduced my family to the gospel, the Espinosas, lost their jobs the week we were scheduled to attend the temple. Even worse, a member of our branch presidency who was scheduled to attend the temple for the first time lost his father to a sudden illness three days before our trip. But in the end the Lord strengthened each of us and made it possible for 42 members of the branch to attend the temple. Sixteen of us attended for the first time.

May 13, 2009, is a day I will never forget. When I arrived at the temple, the weight and pain of my wife’s death immediately vanished. Although I was initially nervous about the temple because I didn’t know exactly what to do or where to go, I was struck by the calm, peaceful presence I felt once I stepped inside. It was very different from the busy streets just outside the temple doors.

As the day progressed, my temple experience became only more meaningful and more powerful. In the morning our branch participated in baptisms for the dead. As I watched, I found myself thinking of my wife, who a year and a half earlier had expressed her desire to be baptized. I then witnessed the fulfillment of that desire as a friend was baptized for and in behalf of Monina.

The most significant portion of my trip, however, came later that afternoon when I walked into the sealing room. My wife and I were married years ago, but we were not married in the temple by Heavenly Father’s priesthood authority. When my wife died, I thought I had lost her forever. But as I met with the missionaries, I learned that in the temple, families can be sealed together for eternity.

As I walked into the sealing room at the Manila Temple, I was overcome with emotion. Ever since my baptism, I had known the blessings of the gospel were real, but in that instant I truly witnessed their worth. As Mark and I knelt at the altar to be sealed as a family, I felt my wife’s presence. I could hear her voice, and it was as if I were holding her hand. I felt Monina’s presence with every feeling in my heart. I knew then that we were an eternal family.

Joanne, a young Church member, married a man who everyone thought was unworthy of her. He was addicted to alcohol and reckless with money. Almost immediately, the marriage had difficulties. But Joanne seemed to possess the magic of being happy.
As the years passed, instead of becoming bitter and defensive, Joanne became even more patient. Her children were reared tenderly, and she taught them to be loving and kind with each other, with her, and with their father. Five of the eight went on missions and all were married in the temple. Miraculously, the year before her husband’s unexpected death, he accepted the gospel and was baptized.
What caused such a marvelous change?
Joanne’s sister says, “Joanne never allowed her children or anyone else to talk negatively about their father. Sometimes he would come home at two or three in the morning, and my sister would wake all the kids and say, ‘Your daddy is home! Come, kiss him, love him!’
“When the children grew older and questioned their father’s actions, she would say, ‘Honey, don’t judge your dad. He doesn’t have the gospel yet. All we can do is love him and forgive him. He is a good man, and he is head of this family.’”
But was she happy?
“To her family, to us, to everyone,” says Joanne’s sister, “she radiated happiness. But I’m sure she suffered. I also know how badly she wanted her husband to join the Church.”
Joanne talks about staying with a man many women would abandon:
“I never considered turning away from my love for and loyalty to my husband. He was a very good man, even though he did foolish things. He loved people. He helped others in need. We sometimes had a person, even whole families, live with us because my husband knew that they were out of work and needed someplace to go.
“We had great, genuine love in our family. I know that he loved me and the children and that he was proud of us. The good example of our children brought him into the Church. It was the happiest day of my life when he was baptized.” They were married twenty-eight years before that happened.

“Should I keep these kinds of friends?” someone keeps asking, as if true friendship could be thrown out so casually. Maybe if you’d use the word acquaintance the question would be more valid.
A friend of ours (and most of us were recent converts) was getting into the drug culture with all its wrong attitudes and acts. Some might say we shouldn’t have kept this kind of friend, but we did. (Later he said that he had felt he was losing us even so, but this was because he had been failing to keep his part of the relationship.) At any rate, we didn’t throw him out of our lives for taking drugs, or for any of the other sins, small or great, that it led him to. Then we saw him turn to paths of repentance, and when he finally asked, we helped him climb back. The day of his temple marriage was a day of deep joy to us all.
Sharon DequerMunrovia, California

One of my new friends, Rick, was a member of the Church too. The night before he left on his mission, I told him I was feeling frustrated. I couldn’t go into the military, I didn’t want to go to college, and I didn’t know what to do. He looked right at me and said, “You should go on a mission like me.”
That statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I said, “All right, I’ll go on a mission.”
He laughed and said, “Well, you have to be a member of the Church first.”
I met with the missionaries with Spencer’s family after Rick left for his mission. Six weeks later, Spencer baptized me. I was almost 19 years old.

In an October general conference, Sister Grassli, the Primary General President, reported: “Nine-year-old Matt spoke in church about something he had learned from the scriptures that brought him peace. He said, ‘When my father told our family that we would be moving from Denver to Wisconsin, my mother reminded us of Lehi’s family. Like them, I was leaving the only home I had known, all my friends, my school, my ward. Luckily we were able to bring all our possessions with us, though they were in storage for three months, and we missed having a house and our “precious things.”
“‘My mother reminded us of how Nephi accepted this challenge—willingly—knowing that the Lord would “prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (See 1 Ne. 3:7.)
“‘I have learned that I can do without things, but not without my family. My brotheres and sisters and I have tried to be more like Nephi than his complaining brothers. I am grateful for the things that the Book of Mormon teaches us.’” (Ensign, November 1988, page 79.)
Matt was comforted by the story of Lehi’s family from the Book of Mormon. As you read or listen to stories from the scriptures, which of the stories bring you peace?

Aubrey unzipped her polka-dot backpack and picked up the Book of Mormon that was lying on her bed.
“Are you almost ready?” Mom called.
“Almost!” Aubrey said.
She put the book carefully inside her backpack and knelt down.
“Heavenly Father, please help me find someone to give this to,” she prayed.
Last week the missionaries had given Aubrey’s family the challenge to give someone a Book of Mormon, and Aubrey had felt that she could help. Aubrey finished her prayer and walked into the living room.
“OK, let’s go!” Mom said.
Aubrey jumped into the backseat of the van. She was excited to be going to the temple again with Mom and Dad. She was just old enough to participate in baptisms for the dead, and she loved the peaceful feeling she got inside the temple. This time, though, she was also excited to share the gospel with someone.
But finding someone was harder than Aubrey thought it would be. The drive took three hours, but Dad didn’t stop anywhere except at a gas station, and Aubrey stayed inside the van. At the temple, everyone already knew about the Book of Mormon. Afterward, when Mom and Dad took Aubrey to a restaurant and a bookstore, Aubrey didn’t feel the Spirit telling her to share the Book of Mormon with anyone she saw.
When she got in the van to head home, Aubrey felt a little sad. But she knew that if she kept praying, someday the Lord would help her to be a missionary.
Then suddenly Dad pulled the van over. They were having car trouble.
“We’ll pull into this gas station and see if we can find help,” Dad said.
As he parked, a big white truck with a flat tire pulled up beside them. A woman got out of the truck and looked at her tire. Aubrey saw how sad she looked. The Spirit whispered that this was someone Aubrey could share the gospel with.
Aubrey got out to watch Dad help the woman change her tire. The woman said she had recently gotten divorced. She didn’t know if her children would be able to live with her. Aubrey ran to the van and pulled the Book of Mormon out of her backpack.
“Mom, will you give this to that lady?” Aubrey asked.
Mom smiled. “That’s a good idea, but I think you should give it to her.”
Aubrey felt a little shy. But then she remembered how she felt when she read the Book of Mormon. She wanted the woman to have that good feeling too.
Aubrey walked over to Dad just as the woman was getting back into her truck.
“Wait! I thought you might want to read this. It’s my favorite book, and I know it’s true,” Aubrey said.
The woman looked a little surprised, but she smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and she took the book.
Aubrey went back to the van feeling relieved. She climbed inside and told Mom what happened.
“I’m glad you prayed to be a missionary,” Mom said. “Now let’s pray for help so we can get home safely.”
“Yes,” Aubrey agreed, “because prayer works.”

Probably the most significant thing I learned while on my mission, other than the gospel, is the importance and power of prayer in missionary work—prayer plus appropriate and timely fasting.
While serving in Edinburgh, Scotland, my companion and I had decided not to proselyte in a certain area of the city because we thought other areas would be more productive. There were only two missionaries in all of Edinburgh, a city of about a half a million people. We went about our work in other areas of the city, but we had a feeling that there may be someone we needed to teach who lived in the area in which we had chosen not to proselyte. We decided to set aside a certain day to fast and pray for that area and to proselyte there. We prayed that we would find someone who was prepared for the gospel.
On that day we knocked on the door of Alex and Lilly Clark, a young couple who invited us in right away. We taught them the first discussion and gave them a copy of the Book of Mormon. We asked them to read it and pray about it. We asked if we could return to share more of our message.
They told us that Alex was leaving the next day for a six-month military assignment. Feeling it inappropriate to meet with Lilly in Alex’s absence, we gave them each a copy of the Book of Mormon and repeated our challenge to read and pray about it. We also gave them the address of our chapel.
My companion and I were impressed by them and hopeful for them, but we were not optimistic, knowing what often happens when investigators go for such a long time without contact with the missionaries.
In the meantime I was transferred from Edinburgh to Nottingham, England. About six months after our visit with the Clarks, the mission president asked me to travel back to Edinburgh to handle some mission business. While there, my companion and I attended Sunday services at the Edinburgh branch. You can imagine my surprise and thrill when I saw Alex and Lilly Clark walk into the chapel.
Alex had just returned from his military assignment, and the two of them were soon on their way to baptism. The Clarks became active members of the Church in Edinburgh. When the Edinburgh Scotland Stake was created, Alex Clark was called to be its first stake president.
Forty-one years later, Lilly told my wife and me and two of our grown children that when my companion and I knocked on their door that day, she and Alex were busy getting him ready for his assignment. They didn’t think they had time for one more thing. But when she opened the door, she was overcome with the thought: “You’ve come! It’s you, and you’ve come.”
Alex and Lilly were not looking for religion that day, but when we knocked on their door, Lilly knew she had to let us in. Because she followed this prompting, her family’s lives were changed forever. And so was mine!
As the Lord states in D&C 31:7: “Yea, I will open the hearts of the people, and they will receive you. And I will establish a church by your hand.”
Truly the Clarks’ hearts were opened that day by the power of prayer in missionary work.

Danny was worried. He was excited about spending the night with his friend Jonathan, but he had a problem. This would be the first time he had stayed overnight with a friend, and even though Jonathan was his best friend, Danny had never mentioned his pillow. Could he take it with him? Danny wasn’t sure. He decided to ask his older sister, Linda.

Linda looked up from the TV set. “You’d better not, Danny. You’ll get teased about wanting to sleep with it.”

“But I always take it when I go to Grandma’s house.”

“Grandma would never tease,” said Linda. “But Jonathan’s big brother might, and then you would be embarrassed.”

“But I don’t think I can sleep without it.”

“Oh, sure you can,” Linda reassured him. “You’ll be so busy talking and laughing that you won’t even think about your pillow.”

Danny wasn’t so sure. It was the only pillow that felt comfortable when he went to sleep. Maybe he’d better ask Mom.

Danny stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Mom cook. That meant that it would soon be time for him to leave, because he was eating dinner with Jonathan. Maybe I should stay home, he thought. Then I won’t have to worry about my pillow.

When his mother saw Danny in the doorway, she grinned and said, “Hi, sport. Are you about ready to go?”

“Mom, do you think I should take my pillow to Jonathan’s house?”

“Do you want to?”

“I think I do, and I think I don’t. I don’t really know.”

“Well,” said Mom, “why don’t you take your pillow with your other things. Maybe they don’t have enough pillows, and they’ll be glad that you brought yours.”

Danny immediately felt better. “You don’t think Jonathan’s big brother will tease me?” he asked.

“No,” said Mother. “You’re going to be sleeping in Jonathan’s room with him. Thomas has his own room. He probably won’t even see your pillow.”

Danny grinned happily. “I’m going to go pack it now. Do I still have to take my toothbrush?”

Mother grinned back. “Yes, you do, young man. You wouldn’t want to sleep on that pillow with bad breath!”

Danny laughed and ran upstairs to get his things. Stacking everything on his pillow, he waited for Mom to take him to Jonathan’s house.

Jonathan was standing by the door when Danny arrived. The two boys ran to Jonathan’s room to unpack Danny’s suitcase and play. He looked at the twin beds. There were pillows on both of them.

“This is where you’ll sleep,” said Jonathan, and he placed the suitcase at the foot of one bed.

Danny held out his pillow. “I brought my own pillow in case you needed an extra.”

“Oh, we have enough, but you can sleep with yours if you want.”

Danny put his pillow on the bed, carefully putting the other one on a chair. Then he and Jonathan sat on the floor to build a block city. They hardly knew how hungry they were, until Jonathan’s mother called them for dinner.

Dinner together was fun, and they had a great time playing board games in the family room until it was time for bed. Danny looked around Jonathan’s bedroom. The block city was still there. His pillow was still there.

When Danny jumped into bed and snuggled under the blanket and felt the familiar pillow beneath his head, he was cozy and comfortable. Smiling, he raised his head to talk to Jonathan. But Jonathan was still walking around the room.

“Are you looking for something?” Danny asked.

“Yes, my brown bear. I always sleep with him.”

Danny sat up straight, a look of surprise on his face. “You always sleep with a brown bear?”

“Yes.” Jonathan lowered his voice. “I even took him with me to a hotel once.”

Danny laughed and held up his pillow. “I’ll tell you a secret, Jonathan. I always sleep with my pillow.”

The boys laughed together, and Danny jumped out of bed. “Come on. I’ll help you look for your bear.”

They found the bear sitting behind a stack of blocks. Jonathan picked it up, holding tightly to the brown body. He whispered to Danny, “You’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend too.”

Then Danny went to sleep on his pillow, and Jonathan went to sleep holding his brown bear.

Paulo Araujo, an employment manager in Brazil, explains that one of the issues of importance in his country is the number of returned missionaries unable to find work. “Far too many don’t have a high school diploma,” he says.
Brother Sloan remembers traveling to Brazil and visiting several schools that provide training to help adults obtain a high school diploma. “One of them was particularly impressive. Ninety percent of students who attended this six-month course successfully graduated.”
Although the school was doing well financially, it still had many empty desks. “If we could only fill them,” the school’s director said. Brother Sloan told the director about returned missionaries who might be interested in attending the school. “What if we were to suggest to these young men and women that they consider your school so they could get their high school diploma?” he asked.
“Oh, we would be delighted to have students such as this!” the director replied.
“If we were to send you groups of students, would it be possible to receive a discount of 10, 20, or even 50 percent on their tuition?”
Yes, the director said, such a thing was indeed possible. At the end of the discussion they agreed on a 45 percent grant that would be applied toward tuition. With that discount in hand, more than half of the returned missionaries who enrolled in the school also applied for help from the Church’s Perpetual Education Fund, which provides loans to members in developing areas. This arrangement made their education possible.

A cold wind blew and Little Squirrel shivered when something white flew by. “What is that?” Little Squirrel asked.
“Snow,” said his mother.
“Snow?” questioned Little Squirrel.
“Yes,” replied Mother Squirrel. “Winter is coming soon.”
Little Squirrel caught a snowflake and held it in his paw. It was cold. Then suddenly it was gone. Little Squirrel looked around. But he could not find it. “Where did it go?” he cried.
“It melted,” said his mother. “But don’t worry, there will be more snowflakes soon.”
Just then snow began to tumble out of the sky. “Hurry!” urged Mother Squirrel. “We must finish storing seeds and nuts for later.”
Little Squirrel ran after his mother. At first he had helped her store seeds and nuts in the burrow, but now he wanted to hide some outdoors. Little Squirrel found an acorn and took it to the gooseberry bush. He dug a deep hole, put the acorn in it, and filled the hole with dirt. He patted the dirt with his paw to smooth it.
Then Little Squirrel found a hazelnut that he buried next to the wild strawberry patch. Little Squirrel buried some maple seeds under the dogwood tree and a small ear of corn near the fence post. Last of all Little Squirrel found two walnuts. He loved to eat walnuts, so he ate one. Then he scampered to the bank of a rushing brook and buried the other walnut.
When Little Squirrel had finished, he found his mother. The wind began to howl and Little Squirrel shivered.
“Time to go inside,” said Mother Squirrel. They scampered into their underground burrow where it was warm and snug and safe from the howling wind. Mother Squirrel wrapped her tail around herself, and Little Squirrel wrapped up in his tail too. Then they went to sleep.
Days, weeks, and months went by. Soon the air became warmer and the sun melted the snow. The sap flowed from the trees, and birds began to sing. Both squirrels began to stir in their burrow. It was spring at last. Little Squirrel and his mother sniffed the clean, fresh air.
“I’m hungry,” said Little Squirrel.
“Me too,” said Mother Squirrel. “Let’s eat some of our stored seeds.”
Little Squirrel shook his head. He wanted to go find the seeds and nuts he had hidden outdoors. First he ran to the gooseberry bush, where he dug several holes. He looked all around, but he could not find his acorn. In its place was a tiny plant. Where did that come from? he wondered. It wasn’t there before.
Then Little Squirrel ran to the strawberry patch. The strawberry plants were in bloom, and there was a strange new plant growing among them. It was growing right where Little Squirrel had buried his hazelnut.
Next Little Squirrel ran to the dogwood tree, but he could not find the maple seeds. He did notice some tiny new plants. Little Squirrel was getting hungrier, so he ran to the fence post. All he could find there were some bright green shoots. Finally Little Squirrel ran to the bank of the brook to look for his walnut, but it was not there.
Little Squirrel went back to the burrow. “Oh, Mother,” he cried, “I can’t find any of my seeds. And I buried them so carefully.”
“Are you sure?” asked his mother with a smile.
“Yes,” said Little Squirrel. “I’ll show you.” So Little Squirrel took his mother to the gooseberry bush, the strawberry patch, the dogwood tree, the fence post, and back to the brook. “See,” he said.
Mother Squirrel smiled again and said, “You have been a good gardener without even knowing it. The seeds you buried in the earth have sprouted and will grow bigger and bigger. Someday they will make many more seeds for you to eat.”
“But I don’t want to wait for these seeds to grow. I’m hungry right now!” complained Little Squirrel.
“Yes, I know,” said Mother Squirrel patiently. “Come with me. I have found some good wild lettuce. Then I will help you find some other seeds while you wait for yours to grow.”

Opra Ouma says that remembering the Young Women values gives her the strength to live the gospel. “Even if I’m not with the LDS young single adults, when I’m out in the world, I can apply the Young Women values and still be safe,” she says.

Opra first learned these values before she was baptized. When she was 17, Opra saw the missionaries on the street one day and wondered who they were. She studied the gospel for a year and was baptized after she turned 18. The community of Latter-day Saints fortifies her spiritually.

“When I’m at the church with fellow young single adults, I feel safe, but when I’m outside there, I don’t feel very safe because most of the time I’m the only Latter-day Saint among the group,” she says. “Sometimes it’s challenging because the standards of the world and the standards of the Church are totally different.”