Gospel Story Finder

I opened my eyes to pure darkness. I was alone. And I needed to get moving.
Moments before, my siblings and I had gathered in our barn. This was the perfect arena for our favorite game: hide-and-seek in the dark.
I had the misfortune of being the first seeker. My siblings ran off with flashlights in hand, and I was left alone without a light source. After two minutes of waiting, it was time to run off in search of my siblings.
But I couldn’t bring myself to move.
I was temporarily paralyzed by the fear of what lay beyond in the dark. Eventually, my fear of being alone took over. I took tentative steps forward and …
I fell flat on my face.
I got back up and continued to stumble around in the dark.
As someone with a crippling fear of the dark, I felt vulnerable and exposed in my pitch-black barn. If I hadn’t been so focused on my fear, perhaps I would’ve been more prepared for the obstacles that awaited me.
I tripped and fell in my barn because I couldn’t see any obstacles. A flashlight would’ve warned me of the danger and saved me a great deal of pain.
My sister was my hero that day in the barn. She could’ve ignored my pleas for help as I crossed her path. But instead, she turned on her flashlight and ran to my rescue. Her grace made me feel less alone. And I clung to that grace until the search for my brothers was over.

When I switched to a new school in sixth grade, a girl named Hannah ate lunch with me and introduced me to new friends. But I never realized that, at the same time, I was helping introduce her to principles of the gospel.
One day Hannah and I were at a carnival together. Out of the blue, she told me she wanted to join the Church. To say I was surprised is an understatement. My first thought was, “I’m not sure if she knows how big of a commitment it is.”
I wasn’t sure what to do, but my parents said, “She’s interested in the gospel. You should invite her to ward camp.” I thought it might be overwhelming for Hannah to spend the entire week with us and meet so many new people. But I took their advice and invited her to camp and to youth conference.
During a testimony meeting at youth conference, I felt like Hannah needed to hear my testimony, even though public speaking is one of my biggest fears. Hannah knew I was afraid, and she admired the fact that I was willing to share because I believed in the gospel.
I’m an overthinker, so whenever I considered inviting Hannah to things, I thought, “She’s going to think I’m pressuring her into joining the Church.” But I knew this was an irrational fear. People like to be invited to things. As time went on, I was more comfortable with sharing how I felt. I learned that sharing the gospel is about love.
“Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony.”
There’s so much joy in sharing the things you love and cherish the most. Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony. I saw the difference that the Savior made for Hannah, and it helped me recognize the difference He makes for me.

Eighteen years ago, my wife and I received a phone call from President James E. Faust, then Second Counselor in the First Presidency. He called us to serve as mission president and companion in Portugal. He told us that we had only six weeks before we started the mission. Although we felt unprepared and inadequate, we accepted the call. Our most important concern at the time was to obtain the visas required to serve in that country because, according to past experience, we knew the process took six to eight months to complete.
President Faust then asked if we had faith that the Lord would perform a miracle and that we would be able to solve the visa problem faster. Our answer was a big yes, and we started making the arrangements immediately. We prepared the documents required for the visas, took our three young children, and went to the consulate as fast as we could. A very nice lady met with us there. In reviewing our papers and getting acquainted with what we were going to do in Portugal, she turned to us and asked, “Are you really going to help the people of my country?” We firmly answered yes and explained that we would represent Jesus Christ and testify of Him and His divine mission in the world. We returned there four weeks later, received our visas, and landed in the mission field within the six weeks, as a prophet of the Lord had asked us to do.

Working with Spanish-speaking investigators is an experience shared by Elder Santiago Tinon from Chicago, Illinois, and Elder Alejandro Flores of E1 Paso, Texas. Originally called as English-speaking missionaries in the Utah Salt Lake City South Mission, the two elders are now working exclusively with Spanish-speaking people from Mexico, Guatemala, Venezuela, and El Salvador. In one month alone, this missionary pair had six baptisms. One of them was a young Mexican woman who had come to Provo, Utah, to study. She smoked cigarettes heavily but accepted the challenge to read the Book of Mormon. By the third discussion, she was converted and readily gave up her smoking. She was an example, Elder Flores says, of how well the gospel is accepted among Hispanics.

For example, a few years ago I was given an exciting job offer. But I was worried it would require me to work on Sundays. As I struggled to decide what to do, I prayed and fasted. I was filled with peace and was even prompted to ask the manager if I could have Sundays off. Without my childlike trust in Heavenly Father, I never would have had the courage to set such a condition, but the manager agreed. So, I began a new and exciting chapter.

After I started my job, challenges came. My hours became extremely hard on my family, and my manager grew frustrated with me. I began questioning the answer I’d received about accepting the job.

Heavenly Father is “a God of truth, and canst not lie” (Ether 3:12), so I assumed I didn’t understand His guidance, which made me wonder how many other promptings I had misunderstood. Then I remembered the words of Alma the Younger: “Experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if [you] can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you” (Alma 32:27).

I had the desire to continue believing in Heavenly Father, so I chose to exercise faith and experiment upon His prompting for me to accept this job, and I pressed on.

Having the faith to finish my job contract also required faith like my daughter’s. I couldn’t see what lay ahead. But I kept moving forward with faith that Heavenly Father led me to my job for a reason. And that reason was eventually revealed.

On a quiet day at work, a coworker opened up to me about how when she had learned I was a member of the Church, she assumed I wouldn’t be any different than some contentious religious people from her past. She told me she had been moved by my respect and kindness for her and our other coworkers. We spent the next hours talking about faith and Jesus Christ.

She told me she wanted to believe in Him, and the Spirit swelled in my chest as I told her about the gospel.

I realized that she was one reason Heavenly Father had directed me to this job. It was a miracle.

As President Russell M. Nelson taught, “Miracles come according to your faith in the Lord. Central to that faith is trusting His will and timetable—how and when He will bless you with the miraculous help you desire. Only your unbelief will keep God from blessing you with miracles to move the mountains in your life.”1 When I exercised childlike faith in His prompting to take this job and finish my contract, Heavenly Father showed me His ability to bring forth miracles.

The Prophet Joseph Smith knew his life was in danger. Angry mobs had followed him everywhere, threatening his life and the lives of his family. Then in the fall of 1838, he had been arrested again in Far West, Missouri.
As he was tied and pushed into a canvas-covered wagon, he asked for the privilege of saying good-bye to his mother, Lucy Mack Smith, who tearfully watched him being taken away. The officers refused to let the Prophet out of the wagon, so he called out to his mother to come closer. Searching frantically, Joseph found a rip in the canvas and reached out to touch his mother’s hand for one last good-bye. Just touching her hand seemed to be important to him as the wagon quickly pulled away and Joseph Smith was taken to the Liberty Jail. There he was confined to a dark, crowded dungeon for six months.

I once conversed with a fine young man who was not of our faith, although he had attended most of our worship services for more than a year. I asked why he had not joined the Church. He replied, “Because I do not know whether it is true. I think it may well be true, but I cannot stand and testify, as you do, ‘I actually know it is true.’”
I inquired, “Have you read the Book of Mormon?” He answered that he had read in the book.
I asked whether he had prayed about the book. He answered, “I have mentioned it in my prayers.”
I told my friend that as long as he casually read and prayed, he never would find out, worlds without end. But when he set aside a period for fasting and pleading, the truth would be burned into his heart, and he would know that he knew. He said nothing more to me but told his wife the next morning that he would be fasting. The following Saturday he was baptized.

Several years ago on a trip to Florida, I sat outside reading a book. Its title suggested that we can still make it to heaven, even though we’re not perfect now. A woman walking by asked, “Do you think it’s possible?”
I looked up, confused, and then realized she was talking about the book I was reading. I said something ridiculous like, “Well, I’m not that far into it, but I’ll let you know how it ends.”
Oh, how I wish I could travel back in time! I’d tell her, “Yes, it’s possible! Because heaven isn’t for people who’ve been perfect; it’s for people who’ve been forgiven, who choose Christ again and again.”

The Sunday School class of 14- and 15-year-olds in the McMinnville Second Ward, McMinnville Oregon Stake, did far more than just sit and listen to their lessons each Sunday. They got involved in a class educational service project. Since they were studying about the prophets of the Church, they decided to build a small model of a house that represented their idea of how one of Joseph Smith’s homes might have looked. When it was finished, they asked their bishop to give the house to a needy child for Christmas.

Illustrations by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
Spencer grew up in a tight-knit Arizona community. When he was seven years old, he went to a picnic at a nearby ranch.
Boy: Hey, why don’t we hop in the pond for a swim?
Wearing their regular clothes, they all went swimming. But Spencer had not yet learned to swim well.
Spencer: I wish I could swim like you, Pa!
Father: Don’t cling so tight, Son.
Spencer: Not the deep part! Pa, I’m scared! Take me back to the shallow water.
Father: All right, Spencer. There, now. Can you feel the ground?
Spencer climbed off his father’s back, and his father swam away.
But as Spencer stepped toward shore, he fell into a deep hole!
He struggled and thrashed but did not think anyone had seen him go under.
Spencer: Help! Oh, why can’t someone hear me scream for help?
Just when Spencer thought he would drown, his father snatched him and dragged him to shore.
Spencer later learned to swim but never felt comfortable in deep water. He was grateful the Lord had preserved his life so he could grow and fulfill his mission on earth.

Last year, I had the idea to start a book club with a few of my friends who also enjoy reading. We took turns choosing a book for everyone in the club to read, and then we would get together and have fun talking about our book. One day, my mom suggested that my friends and I start a Book of Mormon club! She thought that it would be a fun idea to read the Book of Mormon together. My friends love the Book of Mormon too, so they also liked the idea. Now we all read one book in the Book of Mormon at a time, and then we get together and talk about what we are learning after each book. Sometimes we play fun games, do a craft, or have treats.
The Book of Mormon is sometimes challenging to read, but I feel happy that I am choosing to read the scriptures along with my other books. I love learning about the gospel with my friends!

It was not really a special occasion. Georgia, Janice, and I had all agreed long ago that we needed a break from the house and kids at least once a month, and so we had set aside the third Thursday of every month for a girls’ day out. Today was the third Thursday, but other than that, there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. And it wasn’t even until we had all gone through the salad bar that I got any indication that this day might be one that I would long remember.
We’d all loaded our plates with lettuce and cucumbers and mushrooms. Then we sat down congratulating ourselves on ordering such a calorie conscious meal, never mind that our salads were each drowned in a half-pint of blue cheese salad dressing. As is common with conversations between mothers, the subject soon turned to sick kids and then doctors.
“Have you been to that new doctor in the children’s clinic?” Georgia asked.
“Yes, I took Harry to him last month,” Janice replied enthusiastically. “I sure was impressed with him.”
“Me too!” Georgia agreed. Up until then, I wasn’t really paying much attention. I’d never been to this new doctor; I didn’t even know who he was. But Georgia and Janice had been debating the merits of every doctor in the city for as long as I had known them, and this was the first time I’d ever heard them both give the same doctor such a hearty approval.
“He really listens to you,” Georgia was going on. “I had my Cheryl in there awhile back. She was just getting over a cold, but I didn’t think she seemed right. The other doctor wouldn’t even listen and kept insisting she was fine. But not Doctor Bloomberg. He paid attention to what I was saying, and sure enough the child had silent pneumonia.”
I nearly choked on a piece of lettuce.
“What did you say that doctor’s name is?” I asked.
“Doctor Bloomberg,” Georgia said.
“Gerard Bloomberg,” Janice added.
It couldn’t be, I told myself. It could not possibly be the same Gerard Bloomberg. But then, how many Gerard Bloombergs could there be in the world, and how many doctors with that name? Not that I was certain that the Gerard Bloomberg I knew was a doctor, but that was what he had said he wanted to be. Or rather, that was what Marny had said he wanted to be.
Marny was my roommate at college. I was a junior; she was a sophomore. I arrived at the apartment a couple of days before she did, but by the time she got there I had a picture painted in my mind of just what to expect her to be like. For two days solid people were stopping in and asking if she was there yet. By the time she was, the bulletin board was covered with messages for her, mostly from boys.
And Marny did not disappoint my expectations. She bounced into the apartment like a cheerleader returning from cheerleading camp. Her head was covered with a mass of golden curls, her eyes were deep blue, and her mouth a perfect pink rosebud. I decided that I probably was not going to like her when she spoke.
“Hello,” she said in a voice that was much more intelligent sounding than what I would have expected. “I’m Marny Southwick. It looks like we’re going to be living together for a year. It’ll be fun getting to know each other.”
She sounded so sincere and friendly that I had to like her. If Marny was anything, she was likable.
Gerard Bloomberg was in our ward. He was probably at church the first week we went, but I didn’t notice him there. In fact, if Gerard had not been assigned to me as my home teacher, I probably would have gone the entire year without noticing him. Gerard was an easy person to overlook.
As it was, he turned up at our door the second week of the semester. I answered the door when he knocked.
“Hello,” I said.
Gerard looked me squarely in the chin and asked if I was Kitty Olson. I said yes, and he said he was my home teacher. It was probably the most in-depth conversation we ever had.
We went into the living room and sat down. Gerard’s gaze now shifted to my shoes. He said he hadn’t been able to get a hold of his companion yet but had figured he ought to get over and see me. It was quite a speech for Gerard, and he had quite a time getting it out. By the time he finished, we were both ready to heave a sigh of relief.
At that moment Marny arrived. She dumped her pile of books onto the table with an exaggerated groan and looked around. Her eyes stopped on Gerard.
“Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you had company.”
“This is my home teacher, Gerard Bloomberg,” I said.
“Hi,” Marny smiled. “I’m Marny Southwick.”
Gerard looked up at Marny. His face turned the exact shade of red that I had been looking for in a lipstick, and then he dropped his gaze.
“I’ll just sit over here and study,” Marny went on. “Don’t let me bother you.”
But it was obvious that she did bother Gerard. He had found it difficult to talk with just me in the room. Now he found it even harder. As he stuttered and stumbled through the little message he had prepared, I noticed that his gaze occasionally shifted from my shoes to Marny’s. He finished quickly and left.
“Poor fellow,” I said when he had gone.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Marny said. “I thought he was kind of cute.”
I wondered how Marny could tell. All I had seen was the top of Gerard’s head.
“But he’s so shy,” I said.
“Lots of guys are kind of shy,” she replied. “They just need someone to bring them out.”
Marny was asked to be the Spiritual Living teacher in Relief Society. Her first lesson was on charity. It quickly became apparent that she was taking the lesson seriously. And it also quickly became apparent whom she had chosen as her own special charity case—Gerard Bloomberg.
It was the Saturday following her lesson that our stake held a dance. Gerard was there when we arrived, but he was seated across the room in the darkest corner of the gym. His arms were folded and his head down; he almost appeared to be praying. Marny spotted him immediately and began to make her way to him, but it was halfway through the evening before she got there.
Some things are hard to figure. Marny had been at school no longer than any of the rest of us. In fact, not even taking into account the extra year I had on her, I’d been there a good two days more than she had. But she seemed to have made at least twice as many friends. And that was why she took so long getting to Gerard. Every time she tried, someone would stop her to talk, and then she’d get asked to dance. Marny was too nice to ever tell anyone that she had someone else she wanted to talk to. That was part of her charm. When Marny talked to you, you felt like you were the most important person in her life. But midway through the evening, I noticed Marny seated next to Gerard.
Gerard’s position had not changed, except that if it were possible, he looked even more withdrawn. But Marny seemed oblivious to his discomfort. She was chatting away as though she were catching up with her best friend. I shook my head. Some times, I thought, it seems that the most charitable thing to do would be to simply leave a person alone.
Marny took every opportunity after that to talk to Gerard. She’d invite him to sit with us in Sunday School, visit with him at socials, and if she happened to see him on campus, she’d run out of her way just to say hi.
One evening at dinner we were discussing several of the more desirable young men in the ward, when Marny changed the subject to Gerard.
“Gerard Bloomberg went on a mission to Tennessee,” she said.
We all stared at her in dumbfounded silence for several seconds. Then Karen, the most vocal member of the apartment, put what we were all thinking into words.
“My goodness! It probably took him the entire two years to teach the first discussion to one family.”
Of the five other girls around the table, four of us burst into laughter at Karen’s remark. But Marny did not laugh. She looked at us all as sternly as she could and said, “I don’t think that’s funny. I’m sure Gerard made a fine missionary.”
I could tell she was serious and quickly controlled my mirth.
“Marny, we all like Gerard. He’s nice, but he’s just so … so …”
“So backward,” Karen filled in for me.
“Well, it’s not funny to laugh at other people’s problems,” Marny said. She got up and left the table indignantly.
After that we never laughed about Gerard in front of Marny, but we did it plenty when she wasn’t around. When Marny announced that Gerard wanted to be a doctor, it took every ounce of self-control we contained to keep from laughing. In fact, Karen had to excuse herself to get a drink of water, and I heard her choke as she drank it. After all, how could Gerard, who seldom looked at anyone above the ankles, ever become a doctor? But we were smart enough not to tell Marny that.
“You see, he grew up on a farm,” Marny explained, “and he loved caring for the sick animals. He enjoyed helping them get better. Then on his mission, he taught a lot back in the Appalachians and saw the poor conditions some of those people live in. He thought if he could become a doctor, once he was established and making some money, he could take some time to go back there and help them get better medical care.”
I wondered how Marny had ever gotten Gerard to tell her all that. When Gerard came home teaching, other than his memorized messages, I had trouble getting him to comment on more than the weather.
One night some time later I was lying on my bed studying as Marny got ready for a date.
“Who you going out with tonight?” I asked.
“Gerard,” she said nonchalantly.
“Gerard!” I exclaimed sitting up.
“Yes,” she replied not seeming to find anything odd about it.
“Did he actually ask you out?” I asked.
“Well, he did need a little prodding. I mentioned a movie I wanted to see and asked if he wanted to see it too. When he said yes, I sort of suggested we see it together.”
“Oh,” I said lying back down. “I should have known.”
I didn’t think much of that first date of theirs, but then Gerard, all by himself, asked Marny out again two weeks later. And then again a week after that. Pretty soon they were going out regularly every two weeks—sometimes even every week.
Now for Marny that wasn’t much. Marny had a date nearly every night of the week. And there were lots of boys she was dating more often than Gerard. But I was certain that there was no one Gerard was dating more often than Marny. In fact for Gerard, I had no doubt that once every two weeks was going steady.
That worried me. After all, it was obvious that Marny’s interest in Gerard was simply as a service project. She was being nice to him to help him feel better about himself. A lot of good it was going to do if she ended up hurting him.
I decided to take action. There was one boy in particular that Marny seemed to date more than anyone else. His name was Bart Hansen. Bart was a perfect match for Marny. He was as handsome as she was pretty—the kind of guy every girl dreams about and every parent approves of. One simply had to look at Bart to know he would go places.
Now, if Marny should happen to become serious with Bart, I was certain she’d cut out her other beaus. And if it happened soon enough, maybe Gerard wouldn’t be hurt as badly as if things dragged on. The end of the semester was near. Perhaps Marny could just let things fizzle out gently when she went home for Christmas vacation.
That evening as Marny and I dressed for bed, I turned the subject to Bart.
“He sure is a neat guy,” I said.
“Yes, he is,” Marny agreed.
“And the two of you make the cutest couple.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, everyone does. Have you two talked about marriage?”
“No,” Marny said picking up her brush and running it through her hair.
“If he asked you, you’d say yes wouldn’t you?”
Marny turned around and studied me for several seconds. “What are you getting at?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said trying to sound casual. “I just think of all the guys you date, Bart is the best for you, and it would be a shame to lose him because of the other guys you’ve got hanging around. Guys don’t always appreciate a lot of competition.”
“Well, Bart hasn’t even mentioned marriage,” Marny said matter of factly, “so I don’t see any point in discussing it. Frankly, I’m not sure what I’d say if he asked me.”
The conversation had not gone exactly as I had planned, but at least I had put some ideas into Marny’s head. I hoped that the more it rattled around in her brain, the more concerned Marny would become that by dating so many other guys, she might lose Bart. I had no doubt that when the weeding out process came, Gerard would be the first to go.
It was several nights later, and I was sleeping soundly when I felt a hand shaking my shoulder and a voice saying, “Kitty wake up.”
I opened my eyes and blinked several times. It was Marny just getting back from a date. Her face was pale and her manner seemed agitated. I sat up.
“Are you okay, Marny?” I asked.
“Oh, Kitty,” she exclaimed, “Gerard asked me to marry him.”
“Oh no,” I moaned. “How did he take it when you said no?”
“But, Kitty,” Marny protested, “I didn’t say no. I said yes.”
I shook my head. I had to be dreaming. Karen and I would get a good laugh out of this in the morning.
But then Marny took my hand and said, “Aren’t you happy for me?”
I could feel her hand. It wasn’t a dream; it was real.
“Oh, Marny, why?” I said.
Marny looked confused. “I love him,” she said simply.
A phrase from Marny’s lesson on charity ran through my mind. “Charity is the pure love Christ has for everyone, and we should all try to gain that kind of love for everyone too.” I wanted to take Marny by the shoulders and shake her and say, “Marny, you don’t have to marry Gerard to prove that you have charity. You’ve been kinder to him than anyone else. You’ve done enough! You can’t marry a guy just because you feel sorry for him!” But I didn’t say it. I figured that by morning Marny would be thinking more clearly and see how silly this was.
But come morning, Marny was as determined as ever. She announced her engagement to the others at breakfast. If Marny thought my reaction was unenthusiastic, theirs was downright chilly. They all sat silently and stared at her. When she said, “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” they all mumbled a semblance of “Congratulations,” and excused themselves.
But Marny was not to be daunted by our opinions. She spent the next weeks making plans. She would skip the next semester of school and stay home to plan the wedding, which would take place that spring. Had I not known the groom, I would have thought her the perfect picture of an excited bride to be.
I kept hoping that I would find a chance to talk to Marny seriously about what she was doing. Sure, planning a wedding was fun, but once the wedding was over, she would be married to Gerard. Forever! But that chance never came, and Marny left for home at Christmas vacation.
I went to the couple’s reception. Marny looked radiant. Her gown was lovely, her manner gracious. She was in every way perfect. Beside her was Gerard looking as though his tie was too tight. That was the picture of them that I had carried in my memory through these past 12 years.
I had wondered what became of the couple. I was certain that one day Marny would wake up and realize what she had done. It would be sad when she did. I liked both Marny and Gerard. I didn’t want either of them to be hurt. But when Marny realized what a mistake she’d made, one of them would be.
As the years passed I thought of Marny and Gerard less and less often, until now I had almost forgotten them. Now, with Georgia’s comment, it all came back.
“Kitty, are you still here?” Georgia brought me back to the present.
“Yes,” I laughed. “I was just thinking. I had a roommate who married a Gerard Bloomberg that wanted to be a doctor. I just wondered if it was the same one.”
“I’d think it’d almost have to be,” Janice said.
“Have either of you met this doctor’s wife?” I asked.
Both of them shook their heads.
“But he has a picture of her on his desk,” Janice said.
“Yes,” Georgia chimed in. “She’s blond and really smiley.”
It sounded like Marny.
It was almost time for the kids to get home from school when I finally got home. My first move was to get out the phone book. Sure enough there was a number for the Gerard Bloomberg residence. It took three tries before I could get up the courage to dial the number. I listened to the phone ringing, half hoping no one would be home. Then I heard someone pick it up and say “Hello.” The moment I heard the voice, I knew it was Marny.
“Marny?” It came out as a half whisper.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Kitty Murdock … you knew me as Kitty Olson.”
“Kitty!” Marny exclaimed. “Where are you?”
I explained to her that we were living in the same town and gave a brief account of how I had discovered it. When Marny suggested that we must get together and catch up, my curiosity got the better of me, and I said that right now was good for me.
I left a note for my kids saying I’d be back soon, then grabbed my purse from the counter. I followed the directions Marny had given me and soon found myself in a fashionable neighborhood.
Marny rushed out to greet me when I pulled in. She hugged me affectionately and made me feel welcome immediately. They’d just moved into the house a month earlier, she informed me, so she hoped I wouldn’t mind the disorder. I saw no disorder.
The house was spacious, yet homey. The furnishings, right down to the picture over the sofa, were straight out of a magazine spread. Out back were four children playing. Marny called them in and introduced them, then sent them off to do their homework.
It was all exactly what I would have pictured for Marny: a lovely home, well-behaved children. All of it was perfect, except the husband.
We sat in the living room and visited for an hour. Then the question I had been carrying all afternoon came out.
“Marny,” I asked, “has Gerard changed?”
Marny seemed to think for several seconds, then shook her head.
“No,” she said, “he’s still the same old Gerard.”
I paid little attention to the next part of the conversation. I was trying to sort things out in my mind. My friends had raved about Gerard, yet how could he be such a wonderful doctor if he was still the “same old Gerard?”
A silver sedan pulled into the driveway and a tall handsome man got out.
“Here’s Gerard now,” Marny announced.
I took a second look at the man walking up the sidewalk. Surely Marny was joking.
Marny got up and met the man at the door.
“You’re early, dear,” I heard her say. “Come see who’s here.”
Marny led him into the living room. Here, at closer range, I could see that this man’s facial features were indeed those of Gerard Bloomberg, but nothing else about him was. He carried himself tall and confidently. Not once did he even glance at my shoes. When he spoke, he looked straight in my eyes, and when I spoke, I felt as if he was truly interested in what I was saying.
I can’t recall much of that conversation. I think I was in shock for the duration. But then Gerard excused himself to make some phone calls.
I turned to Marny. “You said he hadn’t changed!” I exclaimed.
Marny looked at me blankly as if she really didn’t know what I was talking about. It was then, seeing her confusion, that the reality of it all finally hit me. After 12 years, I finally understood. Marny’s interest in Gerard had begun as simply an act of charity. But Marny had taken the time to do something none of the rest of us had done. She had gotten to know Gerard. She had dug past the backward farm boy exterior that the rest of us saw and had found the heart of the man. To Marny, Gerard had always been the sensitive young doctor that I had just met.
In light of that, I realized how shallow my exclamation sounded.
“It’s just that Gerard used to be so shy,” I explained weakly.
Marny smiled softly. “Yes, I guess he was a bit shy,” she said. “But really, other than that, Gerard is just the same as he’s always been.”

by Kari Ellertson
At the beginning of the year, our Laurel class started planning an activity for the following summer. We wanted to go to Los Angeles and see some of the sights there. For some reason, we just couldn’t get excited until someone suggested that we make a service project part of our trip. We called Brother Bill Andrew, a member of the Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf, and asked if we could visit his ward and put together a library for them. The church library they usually used was under reconstruction. Teaching most deaf members is very difficult without using many pictures to portray all gospel concepts, so they were in great need.
When summertime came, we made a few more plans, borrowed a ward member’s motor home, and arranged for some chaperons. The morning of June 11, we were off to Los Angeles—nine Laurels, two chaperons, and a ton of excitement all crammed into one motor home. When we arrived, we worked all afternoon finding, cutting, numbering, and filing hundreds of pictures for the library. Our own ward library had donated pictures, cards, and a filing system for us to refer to, but we did all the rest of the work ourselves.
That evening we attended a stake dance in the Glendale Stake. Finally we were home and in bed after an exhausting day. We were so tired that nobody seemed to mind sleeping on the living room floor in Brother Andrews’s home.
The next morning was Sunday, and we were up and ready for stake conference in the Los Angeles California Stake. Afterwards we attended sacrament meeting at the ward for the deaf. It was very interesting to see everything done in sign language. Even though there was such a difference in procedures, the Spirit of the Lord was strong and very much the same as in all ward meetings everywhere. That evening we were taught some sign language by the Andrews family, and we learned “I Am a Child of God” well enough to do it for sacrament meeting in our own ward.
The next morning we woke up late. We had to go, but nobody wanted to be the first to say good-bye. Brother Andrews gave us each a necklace that said “I love you” in sign language on it. We said our good-byes, promised to keep in touch, and then left for home.
On the way home all of us reflected back on our project, how happy we felt, and how strong the spirit of brotherly love can be when we are in the service of our God.

A short family history story illustrates this counsel.

Several months ago I read the testimony of my great-grandfather’s sister Elizabeth Staheli Walker. As a child, Elizabeth immigrated to America from Switzerland with her family.

After Elizabeth married, she and her husband and children lived in Utah near the Nevada border, where they ran a mail station. Their home was a stopping place for travelers. All day and all night they had to be ready to cook and serve meals for travelers. It was hard, exhausting work, and they had little rest. But the greatest thing that concerned Elizabeth was the conversation of the people they associated with.

Elizabeth said that up to this time she had always taken for granted that the Book of Mormon was true, that the Prophet Joseph Smith had been authorized of God to do what he did, and that his message was the plan of life and salvation. But the life she was experiencing was anything but what would strengthen such a belief.

Some of the travelers who stopped were well-read, educated, smart men, and always the talk around her table was that Joseph Smith was “a sly fraud” who had written the Book of Mormon himself and then distributed it to make money. They acted as if to think anything else was absurd, claiming “that Mormonism was bunk.”

All this talk made Elizabeth feel isolated and alone. There was no one to talk to, no time to even say her prayers—although she did pray as she worked. She was too frightened to say anything to those who ridiculed her religion. She said she didn’t know but what they were telling the truth, and she felt she could not have defended her belief if she had tried.

Later, Elizabeth and her family moved. Elizabeth said she had more time to think and was not so distracted all the time. She often went down in the cellar and prayed to Heavenly Father about what was troubling her—about the stories those seemingly smart men had told about the gospel being bunk and about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon.

One night Elizabeth had a dream. She said: “It seemed I was standing by a narrow wagon road, which led around by the foot of a low rolling hill; halfway up the hill I saw a man looking down and speaking, or seemed to be speaking, to a young man who was kneeling and leaning over a hole in the earth. His arms were stretched out, and it looked as if he was reaching for something from in the hole. I could see the lid of stone that seemed to have been taken off from the hole over which the boy was bending. On the road were many people, but none of them seemed to be at all interested in the two men on the hillside. There was something that came along with the dream that impressed me so strangely that I woke right up; … I could not tell my dream to anyone, but I seemed to be satisfied that it meant the angel Moroni [instructed] the boy Joseph at the time he got the plates.”

In the spring of 1893, Elizabeth went to Salt Lake City to the dedication of the temple. She described her experience: “In there I saw the same picture [that] I had seen in my dream; I think it was [a] colored-glass window. I feel satisfied that if I saw the Hill Cumorah itself, it would not look more real. I feel satisfied that I was shown in a dream a picture of the angel Moroni giving Joseph Smith the [gold] plates.”

Many years after having this dream and several months before she died at nearly age 88, Elizabeth received a powerful impression. She said, “The thought came to me as plain … as if someone had said to me, … ‘Do not bury your testimony in the ground.’”

Generations later, Elizabeth’s posterity continues to draw strength from her testimony. Like Elizabeth, we live in a world of many doubters and critics who ridicule and oppose the truths we hold dear. We may hear confusing stories and conflicting messages. Also like Elizabeth, we will have to do our best to hold on to whatever light and truth we currently have, especially in difficult circumstances. The answers to our prayers may not come dramatically, but we must find quiet moments to seek greater light and truth. And when we receive it, it is our responsibility to live it, to share it, and to defend it.

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.

“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.

“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”

Prince received his answer.

“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

In the spring of 1991 the First Presidency requested the Asia Area Presidency— consisting of Elders Merlin R. Lybbert, W. Eugene Hansen, and Monte J. Brough —to discreetly begin a search for a temple site in Hong Kong. They found several small and, in their view, inadequate sites with extremely high price tags. President Gordon B. Hinckley visited those sites in April of that year and encouraged the Area Presidency to keep looking.
Late in 1991 two more sites were identified. One was part of a government development project near an ocean bay known locally as Junk Bay (a “junk” is a Chinese boat). The other potential site was located in Fanling. Neither the Fanling nor the Junk Bay site was easily accessible or convenient to the people who would use the temple, so the search continued.
Unfortunately, time was running short. If Hong Kong was going to have a temple, it would best be built by July 1, 1997.
A little world history might be important here to understand the urgency of completing the temple in Hong Kong by July 1997. In 1898 Hong Kong became a British colony with the signing of a 99-year lease, expiring June 30, 1997. In December 1984, British and Chinese authorities signed a declaration confirming that the British government would hand over Hong Kong to the People’s Republic of China on July 1, 1997.
In June 1992 the Area Presidency was reorganized, with Elders Monte J. Brough, John K. Carmack, and Kwok Yuen Tai as members of the presidency.
In July President Hinckley called the Area Presidency twice to discuss the Fanling and Junk Bay sites. President Hinckley also indicated that he and Ted Simmons, managing director of the Church Physical Facilities Department, would come to Hong Kong on July 25 to choose the site for the temple.
When President Hinckley and Brother Simmons arrived, Elders Brough and Carmack took them to half a dozen potential sites, starting at Kom Tong Hall, where the area office was located. (Elder Tai was away from Hong Kong on a trip at the time.) After looking at all the sites, President Hinckley, Brother Simmons, and Elders Brough and Carmack met with four stake presidents in the Hong Kong region. President Hinckley discussed his feelings about the various sites and probed the stake presidents’ feelings. He found them supportive of any decision he would make.
The group was exhausted from the rigorous day of prayerfully reviewing the various properties. President Hinckley retired to his hotel room and requested that Elders Brough and Carmack come back the next morning to further discuss the matter. It was apparent that the Area Presidency had yet to find a solution President Hinckley could accept.
At about 6:45 a.m., President Hinckley called Elder Brough and requested that he and Elder Carmack come to his hotel room at 8:00 a.m. Brother Simmons joined them there at the appointed time, and President Hinckley then shared, on a sheet of white paper, a detailed drawing. During the night, he had envisioned a building of about eight floors above ground, with the temple on the top floors and other functions housed on the lower floors. It included replacement facilities for the Kowloon Tong chapel and the Hong Kong mission home and office, since the new building would require that these existing buildings on side-by-side lots be demolished. This concept of multiple use, President Hinckley explained, would depart from tradition in that all other temples in the Church at that time were stand-alone buildings.
President Hinckley asked Elders Brough and Carmack to express their feelings. They each responded that the concept of a multi-story, multi-use building had not even been considered previously, but they had a strong conviction that President Hinckley had received inspiration—even revelation—about what the Lord intended.
After briefly reviewing the other options, President Hinckley asked the brethren to join in prayer. He asked if it would be all right if he offered the prayer. He then discussed the whole matter with the Lord. He talked of the need for a temple in China to bless the people in that area of the world. The prayer was powerful and compelling, evidencing his love for all the people of Asia.
Those present then returned to the Kowloon Tong site, walking the area. They crossed the street to check the neighborhood and view the site from all aspects, checking particularly the access to it from the underground railway systems. Then Elders Brough and Carmack returned President Hinckley and Brother Simmons to the Kai Tak International Airport.
After returning to Salt Lake City, President Hinckley presented his sketch to the Temple Department, asking that the architects turn the concept into building plans as soon as possible. Seeing an opportunity to expand the functions of the building, the department’s architects created a plan for a larger building—nearly twice the size of President Hinckley’s initial concept. To build this building, they would need a variance to the height limitations and other restrictions imposed on buildings in the area.
When the plans were completed, permission was sought to build this expanded facility, but after many months of negotiations with Hong Kong officials, the proposed building was rejected.
At the April 1993 general conference, President Hinckley invited Brother Simmons and Elders Brough, Carmack, and Tai to his office. He asked why the approval process was going so slowly and what might be done to obtain a building permit. After referring to President Hinckley’s earlier experience in Hong Kong and testifying of the feelings the Area Presidency had on that occasion, the Area Presidency unanimously recommended that the Church return to the original concept described by President Hinckley in Hong Kong.
Once the plans were redone to reflect the original concept in President Hinckley’s sketch, the necessary approvals were quickly obtained. Within days, various British, Hong Kong, and Chinese officials issued permits for the temple’s construction.
On May 26 and 27, 1996, President Gordon B. Hinckley dedicated the Hong Kong China Temple. In the dedicatory prayer, he prayed:
“Thy Church in this area now comes to full maturity with the dedication of this sacred temple. We pray that this harvest of souls may continue, that in the future as in the present, Thy people may be free and secure in their worship and that none shall hinder the service of missionaries called to this area. We pray that Thy work may grow and prosper in the great Chinese realm, and may those who govern be ever receptive to those called and sent as messengers of revealed truth.”

That’s what impressed Aaron, 17, when he was investigating the Church. Aaron’s your typical high school senior. He’s into sports, “hanging out” with the guys, and reading the Book of Mormon. But if it hadn’t been for the love his friends showed him by inviting him to play on church athletic teams, to attend priesthood meetings, and to join them in family home evenings, he never would have realized there was more to life than friends and sports.

By the same token, a lack of that love is a major factor in keeping some people away from the Church. For example, Pam, 18, said, “The Mormon kids in the neighborhood used to make fun of my parents and tell me they would go to hell because they smoked. They said they didn’t want to play with me because my clothes and house smelled like cigarettes. Why would I be interested in a church where the parents teach the kids to be prejudiced like that?”

Shelley liked seashells. She had a jar filled with them, and she liked to spread them out on her bed.
One morning Mommy said, “Grandpa and Grandma are coming tomorrow to celebrate Father’s Day with us. Would you please put your shells back into the jar and help me clean your room.”
As she was putting her shells away, Shelley had an idea—she would make Daddy and Grandpa each a Father’s Day present with her shells.
Daddy had given her one of his old belts, and Shelley carefully glued tiny shells all around it with some really strong glue. The belt buckle was smooth and flat, and Shelley glued one of her bigger shells right in the middle of it.
Shelley didn’t have one of Grandpa’s old belts, so she made him a tie clasp with a shell on it.
Then she asked Mommy to write “To Daddy with love from Shelley” and “To Grandpa with love from Shelley” on cards for them.
The next day Daddy and Grandpa thanked Shelley for her Father’s Day gifts by giving her big hugs.

My service in the army went fine until one day my friend discovered the feed to his automatic rifle was missing. In my country, stealing such an item is a serious crime against the government and is punishable with jail time. Our entire company looked for the missing part for three days, which was the time we had been given to find it. I didn’t look in my own footlocker because I knew I hadn’t taken it.
The captain of the company, a member of an evangelical church, authorized a search of all footlockers. All members of the company were present when my footlocker was inspected. I was astonished when the searchers found the missing rifle feed in it. I had no idea how it had gotten there.
It was a painful moment for me; I knew the captain could send me to jail. Members of my company stood around watching, concerned with what was going to happen to me. The room was quiet as we waited to hear what the captain would say.
He called me over to him, and in a low voice asked for my explanation. All I could say was, “I don’t know.” He looked at me, and then he said these words: “I know what your conduct has been all this time, and I know you didn’t do it.” Then another officer said to the captain, “I, too, believe that this soldier did not do it.” One by one, all the other officers came up to me and offered their support.
Until that moment I hadn’t fully realized the blessing of obedience or the power of example. Tears began to run down my cheeks. I recognized the protecting power of my Savior. I knew He was at my side. Because of this experience, the verse in 3 Nephi that had impressed me earlier will always be engraved on my mind. I am grateful the Book of Mormon taught me to be a light and an example.

When my husband died in 2019, I decided to go to the United States, where my daughter now lived. I wanted to see her and learn more about the restored Church.
I stayed in Salt Lake City, Utah, for four and a half months. I went to church every week with my daughter. I had a feeling I could not describe. I took the missionary discussions. I knew it was all true. I experienced the most beautiful day of my life when I entered the waters of baptism and was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on July 27, 2019.
When I walked into the room to be confirmed after my baptism, everyone was crying. Being baptized and receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost is a great gift from our Heavenly Father. After my confirmation, I felt that heaven was open and that we were all there together. In my patriarchal blessing afterward, I received many special, eternal promises.