Gospel Story Finder

One Saturday afternoon my little sister, my mom, and I decided to make cookies. My mom suggested we make a double batch and give them away.
While the cookies were baking, we talked about listening to the Spirit and serving others. My mom told us how grateful she was for inspired sisters around her that had recently brightened her day with a phone call or nice card. She then suggested that we give the cookies to someone Heavenly Father would like us to serve. We all went into different rooms and said our own personal prayer about who should receive the cookies. My mom and I had two of the same names, and my mom and little sister had also agreed on a family. The names we came up with were not even people that we typically interacted with.
From this experience, my testimony of prayer has been strengthened so much! Heavenly Father heard and answered our prayers and guided us to the people we should serve.
I will always remember that special day when we delivered the cookies to those who the Lord wanted us to. I am so grateful to have Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in my life. I am glad that I can pray for direction and help. I love the Church and my family. I am so blessed to have Young Women leaders to teach me about our gospel.

When I was baptized at thirteen, I didn’t enjoy the scriptures. I didn’t understand them, and I read them only once in a while—preferring to read other literature instead. Then one Sunday, I heard two members bear their testimonies about how the scriptures had changed their lives. I felt bad that I hadn’t done my part to learn. I began praying that the Holy Ghost would help me understand. Later, I began attending seminary and reading the scriptures before going to bed. Now I have my own testimony that the scriptures are the word of God and that through them we can know the will of our Heavenly Father.
Raquel Herrera, 19El Ejido Branch, Ibarra DistrictEcuador

When I was in the fourth grade, I had a variety show to sing in. Some of the girls were singing a bad song. I didn’t like it. When I got home, I told my mom about it. She talked to my dad, and my dad told my principal. The girls had to sing a better song. The program turned out good because I wasn’t afraid to speak out about a bad song. I know that Jesus Christ was happy.
Hydee Rushton, age 10Sun River Valley Ward

Sister Patience Kaloobhai wanted the 2018 Light the World campaign to be different. She wanted to fully participate in the suggested service activities and to have the Spirit of Christmas abide with her and her family.
She felt inspired to share daily thoughts on her social media platforms. Almost immediately, a few friends began asking her about this “Light the World thing” that was constantly on her social media timeline. But she wanted to do more than just share, and so she looked for opportunities to participate in the service activities herself. She had been teaching her seven-year-old son, William, that Christmas is not only about Christmas trees and presents and wanted her own service to be an example of that.
One morning on a quick errand, as she made her way across the bridge to the bus rank in Gaborone, she observed that there was an elderly lady with two children trying to get two big suitcases to the other side of the bridge. She was carrying the infant on her back and the two heavy suitcases on each hand while the toddler trudged behind—at times holding on to her dress. She would take a few steps, then turn to be sure that the toddler was staying close to her amongst the fast-moving crowd. Whenever she stopped, she would relieve her hands from the heavy suitcases that she was carrying. This flustered lady and toddler would often get in the way of the oncoming crowd—people who were not at all pleased with this slow-moving elderly lady and her child. In the hot December Gaborone heat, this old lady kept her eyes to the ground as she would take three steps, rest and start all over again. As Sister Kaloobhai watched, she wondered if the woman would ever make it across to the other side of the bridge and the bus rank.
“Can I help you, Mama?” Sister Kaloobhai asked the elderly lady.
“Yes please,” the clearly relieved lady replied, handing Sister Kaloobhai one suitcase and wiping beads of sweat from her face. She seemed close to tears and clearly overwhelmed. Sister Kaloobhai smiled, took the suitcase and also held out her hand to the toddler who grasped it—and the two women walked over the bridge. As they walked to the bus rank, the elderly lady expressed gratitude that someone, a stranger, felt pity and was willing to help in a moment of need. She remarked that nowadays, it is rare to find someone who will go out of their way to assist—and especially in this case where Sister Kaloobhai had to deviate from her intended destination to assist. For some reason, Sister Kaloobhai felt that what she had originally set out to do was not so important as helping this lady and her children. After all, she could finish her errands after this. As she helped the older lady, her luggage, and children onto the bus, Sister Kaloobhai suddenly remembered that week’s Light the World suggestion to light her faith by being the answer to someone’s prayer.

Abby tap-tap-tapped her toes on the floor. She was so excited that her stomach felt fluttery inside. She was at a baptism. And not just any baptism—her baptism! Abby, her family, and her friends had all sung a Primary song together, prayed, and listened to Grandma’s talk. Now, all that was left was Grandpa’s talk before she was baptized.
Grandpa walked to the front of the room and winked at her. He set a big bag on the floor. “Abby, we are very proud of your choice to be baptized today,” he said. “Baptism is a day full of gifts. You are giving the gift of an example to your siblings.” He smiled at Abby’s four younger siblings.
“You’re also giving God promises,” Grandpa said. “And He is giving you promises. But there is one other big gift that you get today.”
Grandpa stooped and reached into the bag. He pulled out a soft white blanket and handed it to her. “This is a gift from me and Grandma. But it ’s also a reminder of the gift of the Holy Ghost that you’ll receive today. When you use this blanket, I want you to think about how the Holy Ghost feels. The Holy Ghost can comfort you like a soft blanket. It can also guide you and tell you what is right.”
Abby pulled the blanket over her shoulders. She smiled at Grandpa. As he finished his talk, she noticed how the blanket felt. It was warm. It was comforting. It helped her feel safe.
Finally, it was time for Abby to be baptized. She walked into the warm font water and took Papa’s hand. She peeked at her brothers and sisters and smiled at them before she closed her eyes.
Papa’s voice was loud but calm as he said the baptism prayer in French. “Je te baptise au nom du Père, et du Fils, et du Saint-Esprit. Amen.”
The warm water rushed over Abby, and then, just as quickly, she was pulled back up. That was it. She’d been baptized!
Abby hugged Papa tightly and climbed out of the font. She changed out of her jumpsuit and pulled on her dress. When she stepped out, Maman (Mom) and her friends Isobel and Florence were waiting for her. They helped tie the bow on the back of her dress and comb her wet hair.
“We’re so proud of you,” Maman said.
Florence smiled at Abby in the mirror. “I always love watching baptisms.”
“Here, you left this on your chair.” Isobel handed Abby her new white blanket.
Abby held the blanket close as Maman and her friends talked and laughed. The blanket was warm and comforting, just like Grandpa had said. But she didn’t just feel warm on the outside. Inside, Abby also felt good and safe. She knew in her heart that she had made the right decision and that Heavenly Father was happy.
This warm, happy feeling was a lot like her blanket. It had to be the Holy Ghost!
Abby smiled at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t wait to be confirmed and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost so that she could always feel this way. It was going to be the best gift ever.
This story took place in France.

In my ward, we get a special medal for memorizing all the Articles of Faith. I earned my medal and took it to school for show and tell. I also took a copy of the Articles of Faith to show my class what I had memorized. My teacher asked if I could say all 13 to the class. I stood up and did it! My teacher followed along to make sure I got them right, and she was amazed that I could say all of those words. There is only one other member of the Church in my class. I was happy that I could be a missionary as I shared the Articles of Faith with my friends at school.
Grace C., age 7, Illinois, USA

My thoughts return again to a beautiful summer day in August 1964. The sun rose early on a day assured to be very hot but ideal for farm work. It was the time of year we harvested the straw and the hay, and I was working for a local farmer on the bench in Mapleton, Utah.
We had put in a very productive day, and since the afternoon was so hot, we decided to go to our favorite swimming hole up in the dry lands on the bench. An irrigation canal brought life to this part of the country, and in a clay embankment the water had washed away a small swimming hole, where, for generations, boys had found pleasure cooling off during the hot days of July and August.
On the east side of the hole was an embankment perhaps ten feet high. As I stood atop it that afternoon in 1964, a summer thunderhead was rolling slowly toward the bench, creating a rather ominous atmosphere.
I looked down into the water and a strange shiver came over me. Not pausing to wonder about it, I set my position and lunged forward in what was supposed to be a shallow dive, but for some uncanny reason, I turned in midair and arched straight down toward the small shelf of clay that lay underneath the water. At the time I could not see this shelf because the water was kind of muddy; but suddenly, with all the force of my body, I rammed into the bottom.
The impact, I later learned, was sufficient to fracture my neck and sever my spinal cord. The thoughts that flooded through my head were so many and so multiplied that I can’t recall now what they were, but I remember realizing that a person’s life really does pass before his eyes during the fleeting moments that seem to precede the end. I was filled with panic, shock, and confusion of a kind that cannot be described. Only those who have experienced such a moment of dreadful finality can really understand.
As the strong currents dragged me toward the bottom I suddenly realized that every sensation I had ever known now existed only in my memory. From the neck down, my body was totally paralyzed. It was as if a giant circuit breaker had been pulled, rendering my body helpless.
I had a growing awareness of the seriousness of my position. I was paralyzed, forced to the bottom, and unable to move a muscle to get to the surface. At this age we don’t live in fear of death or in fear of anything; we believe that youth is to be lived. But I encountered thoughts down there that awakened me from the impression that my life was indestructible at the early age of sixteen.
To try to struggle and have nothing happen, to try to swim—to move my arms and legs in a natural swimming movement—and to have no response, and to be cut off from any sensation from my body whatsoever were almost too much to bear. I knew I was within seconds of drowning.
As I tumbled helplessly with the current, my mind became clouded. A humming sound—a rushing in my ears—began to grow and grow and then fade slowly, and I helplessly resigned myself to the fact that death was very near. Suddenly I began to float to the surface! Vaguely I could see daylight and could feel a lifting sensation, as my friend who had been working with me that day pulled me from the water. The urge to take a breath while still underwater had been intense, and the feeling of relief as my bursting lungs drank in the air was overwhelming. Seven of my friends came down into the water, carried me up the bank carefully, and laid me down in the middle of the nearby dirt road.
I looked down at my body. Though it was still a part of me, I could not feel it. It was unreal. My body and soul had been stunned beyond belief, and through my excruciating emotions I hoped that this would all be over soon. Little did I know that in some respects, an endless nightmare had just begun.
The Mapleton ambulance, a blue Edsel, was not the best in the world. After I had been lifted into it, the engine wouldn’t start, and we had to be pushed down the road until it turned over. I had always hated the sound of sirens wailing the news of another’s misfortune. This siren announced my own tragedy and ushered me unwillingly into an experience that few ever encounter.
The corridors became darker as I was rolled to the older section of the hospital. I saw a sign over a doorway. It said “Intensive Care Unit,” and everywhere around me I could hear the sounds of the hospital: the gasping of an oxygen unit, the bleeps of pacemakers, people in crises, trying to survive.
The doctors took X rays and discovered that my spinal cord had been almost severed and my neck had been fractured between the fifth and sixth cervical vertebrae. They didn’t tell me then that I would not walk again in this life. Their immediate concern was keeping me alive through the night. They transferred me to a specially designed frame for spinal injuries, applied some local anesthetic to two tiny areas on my skull, made two small indentations with a drill into the first layer of bone, and applied traction to the skull and neck area. This was to be my position for the next thirteen weeks. I was unable to make any movement other than to blink my eyes, and I could feel the pulling against my neck constantly. Never in my life have I felt more helpless or bewildered.

On a personal basis, my desire to stay connected with Carol while we were long-distance dating—she at BYU and I at San Diego State—led to many letters and expensive long-distance phone calls. Those are some things that now you only read about in history books.
What happened is that just prior to dating Carol, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea for a poor college student to earn some extra money. In the early 1980s, interest rates on very conservative investments were actually higher than the interest rates you would pay for a student loan. I obtained the loan and placed the money in a ­savings account, with the plan to make money on the difference between what I would earn and what I would pay. What I had not counted on was the cost of long-distance phone calls to Carol, which over several months used up the entire student loan. So instead of interest being earned to offset interest on the student loan, I now owed the entire amount of the loan, plus interest.
However, there was a significant upside. Those long-distance phone calls and bills, which don’t exist today, allowed me to stay connected with Carol and resulted in my marrying my eternal companion in 1984. Not a bad investment after all! You can tell [from this photo] that I thought I had just scored. And I absolutely did.
Apollo 13: “Houston, We’ve Had a Problem”
There are other ways of staying connected that have more serious consequences than paying for a loan, including one that took place a little more than fifty years ago.
In April 1970, following the highly successful Apollo 11 and Apollo 12 trips to the moon and back, including the occasion of having astronaut Neil Armstrong become the first man to step on the moon, Apollo 13 blasted off with equally great expectations.
Despite the success of previous Apollo ­missions, this type of event also carried with it potential dangers and challenges. As with previous launches, the three astronauts left loved ones behind who eagerly awaited their safe return, which clearly was the astronauts’ number one objective: to make it home safely.
The Apollo 13 liftoff went well, with everything working as planned as they traveled toward the moon. However, a little over two days into the mission, and more than two hundred thousand miles from home, one of the three crew members was asked to perform a routine check on the oxygen levels of their spacecraft. As the check took place, the crew heard a loud bang from outside their spacecraft. They immediately called down to Houston with these famous words: “Houston, we’ve had a problem.”1
During the oxygen check, a circuit breaker had malfunctioned, causing an explosion that compromised the oxygen the crew would need—not only to reach the moon but to accomplish their primary purpose of returning home safely.
Over the next few days, the crew maintained constant communication with Mission Control in Houston, which provided needed support and guidance. It was only by carefully following instructions on the steps and procedures they received that the astronauts were able make the necessary adjustments that allowed them to safely splash down in the Pacific Ocean approximately six days after their launch.2
The crew may not have accomplished everything they had planned to achieve when they blasted off with so much hope and expectation, and they may have been a bit disappointed that they missed out on certain aspects of their mission, but more than anything else on their epic adventure, of all the possibilities and plans, returning home to their loved ones was their most important objective, which they successfully accomplished.
From their experience, let me point out two of the “keys” to their success:
1. The crew stayed connected to the only source that could guide them safely home.
2. They trusted and carefully applied the counsel and instructions they received.

Does it bother the youth to be left out of some parties? Melanie says, “I don’t want to go to parties where they will be drinking. It doesn’t bother me if they don’t ask me, because I don’t want to be there anyway. There was a party at school, but I didn’t show up because I found out the purpose of the party was to get drunk. The next day at school, they asked me why I didn’t come. I just said I didn’t want to.”

John Feinga and David Almodova, neighbors on Iosepa Street, often made a little extra money by taking on carpentry or building projects after their regular jobs. New non-LDS neighbors moved into the house down the street. These were the Clarkes. Bill Clark was a retired military man with his wife Pat and five children, plus his aged parents. As the Feingas go to know them, they found out that Mr. Clarke wanted a patio added to the rear of his home. John contracted with Mr. Clark to do it, working on it evenings and Saturdays, with the occasional help of David Almodova. Mr. Clark senior sat and conversed with them as they worked and they became good friends and learned a lot about the family. Nothing was said between the two workers, but as the completion of the job drew closer, they knew they were not going to charge anything. When it was all done, Mr. Clarke said, "This is beautiful, John. How much?" And John said, "There is no charge. It is our gift to you, our neighbor."

Some time later the bishop called one morning about 5:30 a.m. and told John there was an emergency and he should come to the church. He got there and found that Bill and Pat Clark and their five children were there in white, ready to be baptized. They wanted John to baptize them, and said they had been taking the missionary discussions but really had joined the Church because of John and David. "But we never preached the Gospel to you directly!" said John. "You did it with your generosity and your actions," was the answer. Brother Clark later became John Feinga's executive secretary and counselor when John was bishop. Brother Clark later moved to Utah and became a stake president and patriarch. His aged parents also eventually joined the Church.

Jerry Martin, a member of the Plano stake presidency, joined a self-reliance group for personal finances so he could become familiar with the process and the course material. As a retired chief financial officer of a major corporation, he didn’t think he had much to learn about finances.
“I saw opportunities to help several participants get out of debt or develop personal savings and investment plans that fit their unique circumstances,” he said. “It was very satisfying.” And he enjoyed the camaraderie from the group. Then he made a personal discovery.
“I had always paid my tithes and a generous fast offering, but as I participated in this group, I had a nagging feeling that I wasn’t doing enough,” Brother Martin said. “Was I sharing enough? Was I sufficiently consecrated?”
Despite his personal service and Church contributions, these questions persisted. While visiting India, he met many individuals and organizations involved in generously supporting various humanitarian efforts. As President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, has said, “The Church of Jesus Christ is committed to serving those in need, and it is also committed to cooperating with others in that effort.” With that in mind, Brother Martin began looking for other opportunities to serve and cooperate with like-minded individuals. He wasn’t prepared for what came next.
“I had a valuable penny collection,” Brother Martin said. “As I prayed in India about how and where I might contribute to the work being done by others, a prompting came to me that I also needed to consider the source of potential contributions—not from my investment account but from my penny collection. I realized at that point: this was my moment of consecration. How much did that penny collection really mean to me?”
“This was my moment of consecration.”
Eventually, Brother Martin sold his penny collection and used the proceeds to fund humanitarian projects overseas and college scholarships locally. “If I had not participated in the self-reliance group, I would never have even considered how I could lift others through my time as well as my means,” he explained. “I’m a better person for it.”

Some years ago I was working with the missionaries in Korea. We walked into a furniture store in downtown Seoul and were soon introduced to the proprietor. He was very kind to the elders. I listened to them encouraging him to accept a copy of the Book of Mormon. I do not speak Korean, but I understood enough to know the proprietor was friendly and open to the missionaries. In a few moments he invited us upstairs to his apartment. He walked over to what we thought was a window, where he drew back the curtain to reveal a bookshelf. It held at least 12 copies of the Book of Mormon in the Korean language. Obviously, someone had been there before us. My thought at that time was, “We need to place a copy of the Book of Mormon in this man’s heart, not on his bookshelf.”

Such trust in God can bless communities as well as families. I grew up in a small town in New Jersey. Our branch of the Church had fewer than 20 members who regularly attended.
Among them was a woman—an older, very humble convert to the Church. She was an immigrant who spoke with a heavy Norwegian accent. She was the only member of the Church in her family and the only member of the Church in the city in which she lived.
Through my father, who was the branch president, the Lord called her as the president of the branch Relief Society. She had no handbook to tell her what to do. No other member of the Church lived near her. She only knew that the Lord cared for those in need and the few words in the motto of the Relief Society: “Charity never faileth.”
It was in the depths of what we now call the Great Depression. Thousands were out of work and homeless. So, feeling she had her errand from the Lord, she asked her neighbors for old clothes. She washed the clothes, pressed them, and put them in cardboard boxes on her back porch. When men without money needed clothes and asked her neighbors for help, they would say, “Go to the house down the street. There is a Mormon lady living there who will give you what you need.”
The Lord did not run the city, but He changed a part of it for the better. He called one tiny woman—alone—who trusted Him enough to find out what He wanted her to do and then did it. Because of her trust in the Lord, she was able to help in that city hundreds of Heavenly Father’s children in need.

During a priesthood executive committee meeting, our full-time missionaries reported meeting a member whose records were not in the ward. I recognized the name immediately and mentioned that she and I had been in the same ward many years ago.
One of the missionaries said, “Yes, bishop, she mentioned that and seemed quite surprised that you were the bishop.”
I asked them, “What did she say?”
They said she looked very surprised and said, “He’s the bishop?”
I had to laugh and explain that this sister knew me as a very different person 30 years ago.

It was Saturday night, and we were bored, so my brother and I decided to go pick up a movie. As I was browsing through an aisle in the electronics department, my brother pointed to a movie and told me his friend had really liked it. I read the description on both the back and front covers. It looked innocent enough, so I told him to go ahead and purchase it.
When we came home with the movie, I opened the case and went to turn the movie on. As I did, I picked up the case, turned it over, and was shocked to find—as I had failed to notice at the store—that the movie was rated R. My mother came in a few seconds later to call us together for family prayer.
During the prayer, my mind was racked with the decision of watching the movie or putting it away. My brother had just spent all this money on the movie, and I had already opened the case, thus eliminating the possibility of returning it! Why hadn’t I checked the rating? I couldn’t possibly tell him he had just wasted his money and I was not going to watch the movie. Maybe I could watch it once and never again.
Suddenly, I was reminded of an upcoming youth temple trip. I knew what I needed to do—keep the standards and be worthy to attend the temple. I could not willingly disobey the words of the prophets. I told my mom and brother of my dilemma and surprisingly, my brother said it was fine to get rid of the movie and would not ask me to pay him back for it. I am glad I made the right choice, and I am thankful that I upheld the Lord’s standards.

I am acquainted with a couple from Central America. As members of a different faith, they were concerned when their young son passed away without being baptized. They consulted their minister and were told that the baby would go to limbo. "Where is limbo?" they inquired. The response was that it is believed to be a place of darkness, despair, and hopelessness.
Soon after, this couple joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They learned of eternal families and that their son was not in limbo but that he was saved and could be theirs forever. They learned of and were sealed in the temple, receiving great hope, with joy replacing despair.

The following year in seminary we studied the New Testament. One morning after I woke up, I began to read about the Savior in Gethsemane. Tears flowed from my eyes as I realized that the drops of blood He shed were for me. How I wished I had never sinned! The words of Isaiah that I had studied the previous year came into my mind: “He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him” (Isaiah 53:5). As I read about the Crucifixion and the Resurrection, my mom came into my room. I shared with her my feelings, my testimony, and my desire for my father to know what I had learned in seminary.
My testimony continued to grow the next year as we read the Doctrine and Covenants. I obtained a testimony that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I also decided to follow his example and ask God if the Church is true. Although I already had conviction in my heart, one afternoon I found myself alone and sincerely prayed. As I did, I realized that the testimony I was asking for had been developing as I studied the scriptures and attended seminary.
The Lord opened my mind and my heart that year, and I understood the Doctrine and Covenants as I never had before. I also learned of the great value of souls (see D&C 18:10–16) and began to share my growing testimony with those who did not know about the gospel, including my father.
I knew that studying the Book of Mormon during my final year of seminary would also fortify my testimony. As I truly studied, I felt Heavenly Father’s love for me. The stories inspired me to the point that all I wanted to do was read the Book of Mormon. I began to take the Book of Mormon to school and would read it during my free time. I also began to discuss what I was reading with my father.
One day after a long conversation with my father about the gospel, I challenged him to read all of the Book of Mormon. I testified that, like me, he could receive a testimony.
I am happy to say that my father read the Book of Mormon. When he did, he knew the Church is true and was eventually baptized! My family is now preparing to be sealed in the temple. I know that attending seminary and reading the scriptures helped me develop my own testimony, and I know that they bless families.

When I began my junior year at BYU I had a schedule full of music classes, a religion class and a physical science class I had been putting off for a couple of years. Two or three days after the start of the semester I literally woke up one morning with an overwhelming feeling that I should register for a Russian class. This made absolutely no sense. I had already taken an upper division Portuguese class and then tested out of my language requirement for graduation. Taking a Russian class would do nothing to further my specific educational goals. Although I had a significant interest in Russia, I had never been there, nor had I any hope of going. At the time, the Berlin Wall was still standing and the Soviet Union was intact. But for a day and a half the feeling would not leave me, so I researched the possibility of adding the class. It so happened that Russian 101 was a 5 credit hour class and there was no way I could add 5 more credit hours to my load. The class met daily and would require a great deal of independent study in addition to class hours. But I knew that for whatever reason I was to take that class. So I re-arranged my schedule, bought the text and a copy of the Book of Mormon in Russian, and began to immerse myself in a new language, a new alphabet and a new culture. I did not by any means become fluent in my semester of study but learned enough to engage in a very simple conversation.

Just one year later, the Iron Curtain fell with the collapse of the Berlin Wall and I found myself unexpectedly in Helsinki, Finland on a tour with the BYU Young Ambassadors. International travel had been made available to Soviets for the first time in years and I was astounded to discover that our audiences were in large number, Russian speaking. I will never forget two young women, Tania and Viola, who walked right up to me on the street one morning and, in Russian, indicated that they were on vacation from St. Petersburg. They asked who we were, where we were from and what we were doing there. How they sensed I might be able to understand them must have been a miracle. Using Russian I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to use, I explained that we were musicians from the United States, representing Brigham Young University of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I invited them to our show that evening. They accepted enthusiastically, asking for my address so I could tell them more about who we were and what our Church was all about. I was grateful for the fluent full-time missionaries at the show that evening who could pick up where my sketchy Russian left off. But what if I had not followed that prompting a year before? Tania and Viola might never have had an opportunity to hear the gospel.

My Russian has grown a little rusty since then, but I have no doubt that the Lord will call upon me to dust it off and use it again. And perhaps more importantly, that experience planted an unquenchable desire in my heart to learn to bear my testimony in as many languages as I possibly can. I’m hoping that if I prepare myself, the opportunities will come. And since that experience in Helsinki over ten years ago, I have had similar unexpected experiences in other countries with other languages. Isn’t it amazing what the tiniest prompting or interest or desire can lead us to?

Outside, the typhoon was raging. But inside, there was a calm, peaceful spirit.
Gathered in their small Philippine home in December 1987, the Paronda family was kneeling in prayer. Brother Ruben Paronda, normally soft-spoken, had to raise his voice almost to a shout as he prayed. Even so, his wife, Nelly, and their children had to strain to hear his words above the pounding rain and the relentless howling of the wind. The prayer was filled with pleadings to the Lord to calm the storm.
The town of Tigaon, Camarines Sur, Philippines, is in the typhoon belt—and the Paronda family has seen many storms. But this time they were more desperate than ever for the storm to stop. It was keeping them from traveling to Manila to be sealed in the temple. And this was the second time their temple trip was being threatened.
Eleven months after the jeepney accident, they had finally saved enough money again to make the trip. Then the typhoon hit! Their home and store were spared, but their crops were destroyed. Streets were flooded, and travel was impossible.
Surrounded by chaos, they still felt that their most urgent need was to get to the temple immediately. “We were in a hurry to be sealed,” explains Brother Paronda. Unfortunately, in only two or three days the temple would close for several weeks.
Finally, during the night at the height of the storm, the family knelt in prayer. “We asked the Lord to stop the storm so we could go,” says Brother Paronda. “Heavenly Father answered our prayer. The storm stopped during the night, and we had good weather for our journey.”
The next day, they rented a jeepney (their own was still not in running condition), and Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children crowded inside for the fifteen-hour trip. After driving through the night, they arrived at the temple the day before it was to close. Immediately they changed into white clothes, and everyone who was old enough (father, mother, and six children) received the temple endowment.
Then the parents were sealed to each other, and the children were sealed to them—including their son Alan who had died twelve years earlier as an eight-month-old baby. “Even though Alan isn’t living with us at this time,” says Marilyn, “we know that someday we will be together again. He is still a part of our family.”
“I am so grateful,” says Sister Nelly Paronda, “that my whole family can now be together forever.”
When they left the temple that day, it was late. And they had had no rest from their journey. “But we did not feel tired or hungry,” says Marilyn. “We felt very happy that the Lord had answered our prayers.”
The following day, they attended the temple again. Later, the oldest son, Noel, was sealed in the temple with his wife and children. And family members have returned to do ordinance work for grandparents and great-grandparents.

These two principles are depicted in one of my favorite books called, The Hiding Place. It is a true story of the extraordinary adventure of Corrie Ten Boom--a courageous Christian woman who became a militant heroine of the anti-Nazi underground in Holland.

Her family had been engaged in hiding people from the Nazis in their home. Eventually, the protective acts of the Ten Boom family were discovered and they were sent to the dreadful concentration camps. Despite the misery, filth and disease they experienced in the various camps, Corrie and her sister, Betsie, always seemed to find a reason to rejoice.

On one occasion, Corrie was overcome with joy to have a compact Bible smuggled in to her. It became a source of strength to her and the other prisoners as she whispered its divine messages to the hungry souls of her cell mates. When Corrie and her sister Betsie, eventually ended up at Ravensbruck, the notorious women's extermination camp, she did not succumb to despair and depression. Rather, she continued to find God's influence in her tragic situation. She wrote, "Life in Ravensbruck took place on two separate levels, mutually impossible. One, the observable, external life, grew everyday more horrible. The other, the life we lived with God (through their secret Bible readings), grew daily better, truth upon truth, glory upon glory" (pg. 195).

On page 198, Betsie demonstrated her spiritual maturity when she expressed gratitude for her appalling circumstances. When the sisters and other women prisoners were assigned to the large room, known as Barracks 28, they were horrified to find the place swarming with fleas. As Corrie asked how they were supposed to live in such conditions, she discovered that Betsie, her more spiritually mature sister, was asking God aloud "Show us. Show us how." Almost immediately, Betsie answered her own question when she said excitedly, "Corrie! He's given us the answer! In the Bible this morning. Where was it? Read that part again!"

Corrie wrote:
"I glanced down the long dim aisle to make sure no guard was in sight, then drew the bible from its pouch. 'It was in First Thessalonians,' I said. 'Here it is: 'Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that no one of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all.' It seemed written expressly to Ravensbruck.
'Go on,' said Betsie. 'That wasn't all.'
'Oh yes: 'to one another and to all. Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus ---'
'That's it, Corrie! That's His answer. 'Give thanks in all circumstances!' That's what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!'
I stared at her, then around me at the dark, foul-aired room.
'Such as?'I said.
'Such as being assigned here together.'
I bit my lip. 'Oh yes, Lord Jesus!'
'Such as what you're holding in your hands.'
I looked down at the bible. 'Yes! Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank You for all the women, here in this room, who will meet You in these pages.'
'Yes,' said Betsie. 'Thank You for the very crowding here. Since we're packed so close, that many more will hear!' She looked at me expectantly. 'Corrie!' she prodded.
'Oh all right. Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed, suffocating crowds.'
'Thank You,'Betsie went on serenely, 'for the fleas and for--'
The fleas! This was too much. 'Betsie, there's no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.'
'Give thanks in all circumstances,' she quoted. 'It doesn't say, 'in pleasant circumstances.' Fleas are part of this place where God has put us.'
And so we stood between the bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong."

Well, it wasn't until several days after, when Betsie had spent some time away from the cell being treated for an illness, that she explained to Corrie why the fleas were a blessing to them. (pg. 209)
"'You know we've never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room, (referring to Barracks 28).Well, I found out.'
One afternoon when there had been some confusion with the knitting group and they asked for a supervisor to come and settle it, Betsie announced that 'she wouldn't step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?'
Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice; 'Because of the fleas! That's what she said, 'That place is crawling with fleas!'
My mind rushed back to our first hour in this place. I remembered Betsie's bowed head, remembered her thanks to God for creatures I could see no use for."