Gospel Story Finder

In April 1986, a little over a month before Kirill was born, a terrible nuclear accident occurred at Chernobyl, 96 kilometers from Kiev. Many children were taken in buses from town to camps to protect them from radiation. Kirill’s mother went to the country, too. She was afraid he would be born with serious problems. When he was born a month early, his mother asked the doctor, “Does he have hands and legs?” She was relieved to learn that he did. Tanya has trouble with her eyes and has had three operations on them. Her mother doesn’t know if this was caused by the Chernobyl accident or not.

Photographs by Christina Smith
I thought I was going for a short weekend trip to visit my family during a brother’s wedding. But when my wife, Etelani, dropped me off at the airport, handed me a packed suitcase, and told me to stay with my parents until I was ready to be a husband, I knew things had become serious. I would have to make drastic changes in my life.
As I watched her drive away, little did I know how much she hurt. She told me later that she then drove to a safe place to park along the road, where she sobbed. I hadn’t realized how much my behavior—drinking and doing drugs—was hurting her, and I didn’t realize how much it was hurting me.
We both grew up in Samoa, where we met. My family joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was in high school. But the commandments got in the way of my lifestyle and the parties I liked to attend. By the time the other members of my family were sealed in the temple, I was not active in the Church and made every excuse to stay away from Church activities.
After Etelani and I got married, we moved to Seattle, Washington, where my family lived. Then we moved away from them to Utah. There, Etelani tried desperately to help me change my ways.
Often, I would be gone for a week or two at a time drinking and partying while she remained at home, not knowing where I was. She hurt deeply, realizing she could not change me. These were dark and painful days for her. She became despondent, riddled with pangs of insecurity. She wondered if my unruly actions stemmed from her inability to bear children.
“If we are meant to stay together,” she prayed to Heavenly Father, “then please help me know what to do.”
The Spirit prompted her to act when my parents called to announce that one of my brothers was getting married. The day Etelani dropped me off at the airport, she said, “I think this is a good time for us to be separated.” As it turned out, it was 10 months before we got back together.
My parents and siblings were active members of the Church. My mother was strong in her testimony and was aware of my situation. During the 10 months I lived with my parents, she gave me kind and gentle invitations to join the family at church and church activities, and she reminded me of the importance of being sealed to Etelani in the temple. Those simple invitations, and being surrounded by my family’s love, helped me return to church.
While Etelani was in Utah, working overtime hours to distract her from her sadness, I was undergoing a transformation brought about by my mother’s love and the Savior’s atoning grace.
I had tried many times over the years to kick my bad habits, but I never could. In the past, I had used every excuse to stay away from church, but now as I confronted the loss of my wife, I knew I had to change.
Change wasn’t easy. “Who am I to be saved?” I wondered. In the past, I had tried to change by myself. Alone, I couldn’t beat my habits, but with help from Heavenly Father and His Son, along with the scriptures, fasting and prayer, the sacrament, and repentance, I knew I could change. Becoming involved in the Church and exercising faith in Jesus Christ changed my heart and my way of thinking (see Mosiah 5:7; Alma 5:12–13). I soon found that I could do things I couldn’t do before.
With steadiness, over time I came to feel the Savior’s mercy. He was aware of Etelani and me. I felt that He loved us. His love changed my appetites. I no longer obsessed over past indulgences. When I finally had a testimony of the gospel, I wanted to be with Etelani again.
When she saw that I held a steady job and had saved money for a place to live, she joined me in Seattle. She still wanted us. After I had demonstrated that my devotion to her and the gospel was real, we adopted a daughter. Having a child helped me commit to the changes I had made. I knew I had to be a good father for her. I liked where I was heading, and I wanted to take my family with me. I was sealed to my parents. Etelani and I adopted a son. And we have been sealed in the temple as a family. God has been good to us.
Tony with his son, Tony Jr.
Having gone through the refiner’s fire, I know from firsthand experience that the Savior can change us. But first, we must get close to Him. You’ll be amazed at what He can do. Feeling His divine love can lead to sincere repentance, and that can change you—no matter how far you have fallen.
I’m grateful for a second chance. I’m grateful for the gospel. I’m grateful the Savior brought me back. And I’m grateful He helped me become a better husband to my wife and father to my children.
If we have faith in the Savior and trust in Him, we will be surprised at the changes He can make in us.
Tony remains grateful the Lord helped him become a better husband to his wife, Etelani, and father to his children, Tony Jr. and Prelain.

When he returned to London and resumed composing operas, his work was not well received, and creditors began to hound him again. In the depths of despondency, he began to wonder, “Why did God permit my resurrection, only to allow my fellow-men to bury me again?”3 In April 1741 Handel held what he assumed would be a farewell concert. His creativity was spent. A biographer wrote: “There was nothing to begin or to finish. Handel was faced with emptiness.”4
Late one August afternoon that same year, Handel returned from a long and tiring walk to find that a poet and previous collaborator, Charles Jennens, had left him a manuscript. This libretto quoted liberally from the scriptures, particularly the words of Isaiah, foretelling the birth of Jesus Christ and describing His ministry, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. The work was to be an oratorio. Given his previous failures, Handel was apprehensive as he began to read through the text.
“Comfort Ye,” the first words of the manuscript, seemed to leap from the page. They dissipated dark clouds that had been pressing upon Handel for so long. His depression waned and his emotions warmed from interest to excitement as he continued to read of angelic proclamations of the Savior’s birth and of Isaiah’s prophecies of the Messiah, who would come to earth to be born as other mortal infants. A familiar melody Handel had composed earlier flooded into his mind as he read “For unto Us a Child Is Born.” The notes distilled upon his mind faster than he could put pencil to paper as he captured the image of the loving Good Shepherd in the aria titled “He Shall Feed His Flock.” Then came the overpowering exultation reflected in the “Hallelujah Chorus,” followed by the soft, supernal testimony of “I Know That My Redeemer Liveth.” The work came to its majestic conclusion with “Worthy Is the Lamb.”
After all the music he had composed throughout his lifetime, Handel would eventually be known worldwide for this singular work, Messiah, largely composed in just three weeks during the late summer of 1741. Upon completing his composition, he humbly acknowledged, “God has visited me.”5 Those who feel the touch of the Holy Spirit as they experience the overpowering testimony of Handel’s Messiah would agree.

I believe the concept of involvement encompasses even more than merely going through the motions. I think this is the concept that my dad was trying to teach me and my brothers when we were growing up in a small farming community in southeastern Arizona. At the time the Church in Duncan owned a large cotton farm. Because the weeds always seemed to grow faster than the cotton, the priesthood brethren were often called to hoe out the weeds. For a young boy, in the hot Arizona sun, that was no small task. Every time the request came, Dad would work shoulder-to-shoulder with his sons as we moved slowly up and down the rows of cotton.

When I got older I asked Dad why he just didn’t hire someone to fulfill his obligation. After all, his personal time was much more valuable than what it would have cost to hire a farmhand. Dad simply smiled and replied, “Son, it is because the welfare farm needs us, and we need the welfare farm.” I learned that service rendered with personal involvement becomes much more beneficial, both to the recipient and to the giver. When we render service with the proper attitude and for the right reasons, we benefit from being involved because we are expanding and developing our love and charity for others.

Being the only members of the Church in their school gives the boys many opportunities to share the gospel, which they gladly do. Ieuan has invited his classmates to his baptism and other church activities. He and Richard play with several Korean children and are helping them practice their English. Richard has had some nice discussions about the gospel with a classmate. Since most of the children do not attend church, they often ask Richard why he goes to church. He gladly tells them about the gospel and invites them to attend church with him.

William Driver (1837–1920), pioneer who traveled from England to New York, USA, in 1866:
“Willie, my dearest child, was very ill all night until 7:30 a.m., when he was released from his sufferings. God bless his dear soul. How he suffered. He came to his death through Mr. Poulter’s cart breaking on St. Ann’s Hill, Wandsworth, Surrey, England. Oh, how I mourn this great affliction. O Lord, help me by thy power to bear it as from thy hand and stimulate me to more nobly and faithfully serve Thee, and may I live to prepare to meet him in a happier and better world with his dear sister, Elizabeth Maryann, and at the resurrection of the just may I be there to meet them.”9

George Pierce Billings was only seven years old, but no one had told him to go to bed. Never before had he been allowed to stay up so late. He was beginning to wish that he could go to bed, but the air was thick with suspense and fear. Sleep was impossible.
Father had taken his wagon down to the river time and time again. George had wanted to ride along, but there was no room. Father was helping people move out of Independence, Missouri, before morning. Angry men had threatened to burn anything and anybody still there when the sun rose.
George kept checking the night sky. Father had been gone a long time, and Mother was still busy packing. George was worried. His job was to watch his little sister, but he was watching for sunrise, too.
Four-year-old Eunice was getting very tired. Leaning against the wooden porch, George cradled her small curly-haired head in his lap and thought about their Missouri home. He had been only five when they had come, and they had planned to stay forever. He had watched and tried to help his father clear the land. Together, they had built this home and the barn. Father had planted crops on most of the 34 acres, not only for his family, but also for the many new Saints who would not have time to raise a crop that season. George liked Missouri. He liked playing in the trees. He liked catching fireflies. “Even the fireflies must be sleeping now,” he thought.
Then he remembered the big fire. Father had cut 24 tons of hay and hauled it six miles to the property rented by Bishop Partridge from Governor Boggs. He had stacked it there in a long, tall pile. Then, last month, someone had set it on fire and burned it to the ground. George felt sorry for his father.
The night was very dark. Where was Father? Why didn’t he come to get them?
George thought he heard an explosion. Light flashed, but he couldn’t tell where it had come from. In fear, he jumped to his feet, startling Eunice. Light exploded all around him. No, it was above him, high above him—higher than any cannon or musket could fire. George could not believe his eyes! They were fixed on lights in the heavens bursting and streaming across the sky.
George rushed into the house, Eunice right behind him. “Mother! Mother! The sky is on fire!” Mother pulled them close. “Have the mobs come for us already?” she cried.
“No, Mother, no!” George pulled her to the doorway. “It’s not the mobs, Mother. It’s a miracle from Heavenly Father!”
And so it was. The heavens danced with a glorious meteor shower for the rest of the night. Stars raced back and forth across the November sky, lighting the way for the fleeing Saints. In the miraculous light, George saw his father’s wagon returning. Cheered and strengthened by the heavenly signs, George’s family and many others safely settled themselves along the Missouri River banks before sunrise. The meteor showers continued until dawn.

When I was in my teens, I used to wonder what it felt like to hear the voice of the Lord. I thought that Moses, Isaiah, John the Baptist, and especially Joseph Smith were highly favored, and I wished that I might hear also. I was not being sacrilegious. It was an honest desire. I knew quite well that unless I had a special calling that required it, the Lord would not favor me with his personal attention. Voices from heaven are few in recorded history.
The answer to this desire was quite as dramatic to me as had been the one I received about Nephi and his brethren. One day about ten years ago (when I was age sixty-four), I was reading section 18 of the Doctrine and Covenants. I read these words:
“These words are not of men nor of man, but of me; wherefore, you shall testify they are of me and not of man;
“For it is my voice which speaketh them unto you; for they are given by my Spirit unto you, and by my power you can read them one to another; and save it were by my power you could not have them;
“Wherefore, you can testify that you have heard my voice, and know my words.” (D&C 18:34–36.)
Here the Lord was telling the twelve apostles, five years before the quorum was organized, that when they read his words, they were hearing his voice. It was as though the heavens were opened and everything was revealed that was given to any of the prophets who ever wrote. Ever since then the Doctrine and Covenants has had a new meaning for me. I am hearing as well as reading, and clearly the voice of the Lord rings in my heart. I have always read and enjoyed the uplifting quality of this great book. But now things are different. Now I read with awe and wonderment.

Why is Brother Lenstrom’s carrying case so beat-up? Katie wondered. She was waiting for her dad after church, and Brother Lenstrom’s brown leather carrying case was the only interesting thing to look at. She decided that at church next Sunday she would watch him carefully to see how his case had gotten so shabby.
The next Sunday, when her family got to church, Brother Lenstrom was just ahead of them. Katie ran to see if he had his carrying case. An elderly couple in front of him was struggling with the door, so Brother Lenstrom hurried over and stuck his carrying case in it before it closed on them. The door left a big mark on his carrying case, but Brother Lenstrom just smiled.
Katie took out her piece of paper and wrote:
1. Held door open
When she got to Primary, Katie was glad to see that Brother Lenstrom was a substitute teacher. Now she could keep watching him and his carrying case. He kept it on the floor until singing time, then, to the delight of all the children, used it to beat out the rhythm of “Book of Mormon Stories.” Katie quickly scribbled on her paper:
2. Drum for Primary
Katie persuaded her family to sit in the row behind Brother Lenstrom in sacrament meeting. Sister Brown and her two little boys were sitting next to him. He smiled at the squirming boys, asked Sister Brown something, then took a Friend magazine out of his carrying case. He opened it to the For Little Friends section and gave it to the boys. Katie took out her list and wrote:
3. Holds FRIEND to share
During the meeting, when one of the boys was trying to color a picture, Brother Lenstrom let him use the carrying case as a drawing table. Katie got out her list and wrote:
4. Drawing table
After sacrament meeting Katie didn’t think she’d see Brother Lenstrom again, but she did—at the drinking fountain. He was helping a small boy reach the water by using his carrying case as a stepping stool. Katie wrote on her list:
5. Stepping stool
On the way home, while she looked at her list, she realized that Brother Lenstrom’s beat-up carrying case was always used in the service of others. It was more than an ordinary carrying case—it was a “caring case!”

The first episode was described in a letter I received from a local business owner. A girl living in one of the dorms stopped in, shopping for a tie to send to her boyfriend who is serving a mission. She took a close look at the ties and found a great looking one. We stepped over to the checkout counter, and I rang up the sale. She paid with a check and left. I went about my work, and about an hour later I looked up and saw the same girl walking into the store. She had an interesting smile on her face as she walked up to me. She handed me a check and explained that I had accidentally put the check she had written back into the sack along with the cash register receipt and the tie. I really did slip up on this one! We laughed, and I thanked her and told her that I really did admire her honesty.

Priscilla Sampson-Davis first met the missionaries in 1964 while living in Holland. Her husband rejected them, but Sister Sampson-Davis was interested and read the Book of Mormon. When the family returned to Ghana, she found Brother Johnson’s group studying the doctrines of the Church and became an active participant. Fourteen years later, she and her children were among the first to be baptized when the missionaries arrived in Ghana.

One Sunday after joining the Church, Sister Sampson-Davis saw a vision. It was as if she were at sacrament meeting. A person in white apparel stood in front of the stand, beckoning to her. “I came and stood by him. He asked me to turn around and look at the faces of the people to see if they were all enjoying the service. I saw that some of them had bowed their heads. He asked me why some of those people were not joining in the singing. I said, ‘Because they didn’t go to school and they can’t read English. They can’t sing, and that is the reason they bow their heads.’

“Then he said, ‘Wouldn’t you like to help your sisters and brothers who can’t read and who can’t join you in singing praises to Heavenly Father?’”

Even though she couldn’t write the language well, she replied, “I will try.”

The vision ended, and she immediately translated “Redeemer of Israel” into her native language. Sister Sampson-Davis went on to translate the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, Gospel Principles, and various other Church materials. (These items are still in preparation.) In seeking approval to translate the Book of Mormon, Priscilla says:

“I discussed the translation with the mission president, and he asked me to continue. …

“I felt good as I translated the Book of Mormon. I knew the Lord wanted me to do it, because at times when I would use a certain word or a phrase, suddenly, as if somebody was standing behind me, I would hear, ‘No, use this word,’ or ‘No, not that word.’ I always had an eraser with me, because the Spirit was always teaching me.”

Having to defend their choices to live gospel standards is a regular part of school life for the teens in the Concord New Hampshire Stake. Many are just one of a few members in their schools. Some of the standards outlined in For the Strength of Youth pamphlet are easy to defend, while others end up being hard to talk about with friends.

The girls overwhelmingly found modesty to be one standard that they had little trouble defending. Jessica Payne, 17, of the Laconia Ward, says, “Modesty is easy. I do sports, but I’m the goalie, and I wouldn’t wear tank tops anyway. It has never been a subject I have to talk about with my friends. They like to wear long pants or long shorts. We’re used to dressing that way.”
“Modesty and no drinking are easy to explain, and people understand. But language is tough,” said Arica Chatterley, 16, of the Manchester Ward.
But for Sarah Ayer, 16, of the Laconia Ward, the subject of drinking has become a sticking point with some classmates. “Someone in my chemistry class asked me what would happen if I drank.
“They asked, ‘Would your parents disown you?’
“‘No, they wouldn’t do that,’ I answered.
“‘Then why don’t you just try?’
“‘First of all, it’s bad for you. God gave us the Word of Wisdom, so we can know what is good and bad.’
“‘Would you go to hell if you were swearing and drinking?’”
Sarah stopped for moment in her story and shook her head. “It’s weird how extreme some people get. I had to explain about repentance.”
Then Sarah said something that truly answered her classmates’ questions about standards. “Living them daily makes it easy to continue to live them.”

Families are there for each other. I remember standing with my son-in-law in the hospital at the side of the crib of our new grandson, Paxton. We beseeched the Lord in a priesthood blessing to be with this little spirit whose chromosome abnormality indicated he would have to fight for every breath of life. I remember standing at his grave with my “Daddy arms” around these brave young parents, Dave and Shannon, who are here with us today.

We stand together, brothers and sisters, in the hard times as well as the good ones, because that’s what we as families do.

Following my release from my first mission in 1923, I returned home to Whitney, Idaho, on Christmas Eve. It was a joyful reunion with my ten brothers and sisters, and especially with my father and mother in a home that had been as near ideal as a Latter-day Saint home could be.
Father and Mother always made it a practice to hang the stockings, one on each chair, for the children and to place their limited gifts on or under or near each chair. This was quite a task because they made it a practice to hide the presents to be sure that none of the children saw them before Christmas morning.
Father and Mother took me into their confidence that Christmas Eve, which I shall never forget, and we stayed up all during the night. In fact, we didn’t retire at all. We filled the stockings after going to the granary and elsewhere on the farm to get the presents which had been secretly hidden by our devoted and beloved parents. This took a good part of the night. The rest we spent visiting together, with Father and Mother telling me of the progress made by each of the children while I was away, and with me reporting to them and responding to their questions regarding my wonderful mission of 30 months in the British Isles. It was a choice evening. My love for my parents had never been quite so great before as it was that night.
It was agreed that the children could arise early Christmas morning. I don’t remember the hour, but I think it was 5:00 A.M. They were each to go in the kitchen, as I remember it, for a glass of milk and a piece of bread and butter and honey before they came into the living room to partake of the goodies from their stockings and to enjoy the excitement of their presents from Santa. It was a happy morning. I could not hold back the tears as I watched with pride the reactions of my six brothers and four sisters and the loving expressions of my noble parents as they watched their posterity partake of the Christmas spirit and as they felt of the unity which prevailed in our family circle.

When I was eight years old, our family went on a vacation to the state of New York. I learned that many important events in Church history took place there.
My parents had taught us about Joseph Smith and his prayer to seek wisdom from God. They taught us about Joseph’s experience in the Sacred Grove. They also taught us about the gold plates that were buried in the Hill Cumorah. We had heard these stories many times before in family home evening, in Primary, and in our church meetings.
When we got to New York, we visited the site where Joseph Smith lived with his parents and brothers and sisters. We were reminded that the Smith family loved the Bible and often read from it and prayed together. Then we went down the lane to the grove of trees where Joseph went to ask Heavenly Father which church was His true church.
As our family walked into the Sacred Grove, my heart began to pound. There was a peaceful, wonderful feeling there. I felt something very special as I thought about Joseph Smith and his prayer for wisdom. He actually saw our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I knew it was true. My parents later explained that the special feeling I felt was the Holy Ghost.
Since that time, my testimony of the truthfulness of this event has grown much stronger. As a missionary in Germany, I had the opportunity to tell many people about Joseph Smith, the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. Each time I testified of the truthfulness of these important events, the Holy Ghost would bear witness to my heart that Joseph Smith really did see God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.
When we hear something that is true and will be for our benefit, the Holy Ghost will tell us it is true by a special feeling of peace or a voice in our minds or in our hearts. We will have a quiet assurance that what we are hearing or experiencing is true.
From these and many other experiences, I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I know God lives, and I know He answers our prayers.

Anthon stepped from his doorway onto the cobbled street, hesitated, and turned back to his wife—“the best in the land” he called her.
“Are you coming, Ibine?”
His wife stepped out of the doorway. She was wrapped in woolen scarves and a heavy coat. The February night was icy cold. Their destination was the seashore, a few blocks from their home. The children followed Ibine out the door. Thorvald and Astra were too young to be baptized but not too young to be excited for their parents. Only Anthon didn’t feel excited. He was quiet and pensive while walking along the clean-swept streets of Aalborg.
The night was very dark. The children cuddled close to their parents. The hand of tiny Thorvald squeezed his father’s, and pretty little Astra clung to Ibine. Anthon looked down at Thor and remembered his own childhood. He remembered the cows he had herded, the wooden shoes he had worn in winter, his own sister who had died in a terrible blizzard too far from home to get help. He remembered the worried look of his father who couldn’t support his family of nine during the mid-1800s war with Germany. He remembered working from 2:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night on a farm in order to help. He remembered crying in bed at night. “I wondered what I was sent on this earth for. I couldn’t see what good I was doing. All I could see ahead was endless work to no real worthwhile end.”
The frigid cold gripped Anthon’s face, and he wondered if the children or Ibine were uncomfortable. The chilling breeze made him think of glacier ice, and he remembered learning that ice-age glaciers had left his Denmark an undulating flatland so suited to farming and agriculture. He was grateful that at least a few years of formal education were mandatory—that his country believed in the virtues of learning and working. He saw ships’ masts in the harbor poking above the fields.
He and his family were nearing the place where they would be baptized. A sick feeling of loneliness hit him in his stomach. “My homeland, my forefathers, all that has been good to me—am I giving up their trust in me for a far-fetched religion sprouted in a distant, upstart country?”
Every member of the Mormon church who lived in Aalborg was there on the seashore, some holding lanterns. It was a small but cheery group. They sang hymns and smiled. But Anthon was still quiet. He looked into the faces of his beautiful children and wondered if he was doing what was right for them. He knew he would have to find a private school for them because the prejudice in the public schools against the few Mormon children was too much for such young children to bear.
The singing was over. A prayer was given to open the meeting. The missionaries asked a blessing on Brother and Sister Jensen that as they were baptized they would not fall ill from the freezing temperatures. A hole was chopped in the ice. The sacred ordinance was performed for both Anthon and his wife, Ibine. The two new members were welcomed with hugs and handshakes and sent quickly home to a warm fireplace. It was then that Anthon noticed something special—something unexpected. On their way home he found himself walking, almost skipping, with lightened step—his wife and children smiling at him all the way. The heavy burdens of worry had been lifted. He knew he had done the right thing, and above all he knew now that there was something important for him to do in life.
“I went to my former friend and minister the next day to bear him my testimony. I was so happy that I felt I could convert the whole world, and I wanted to,” he later recorded. “I wanted everyone to feel the peace and the joy that came with my baptism. And the most wonderful thing of all, I had an assurance that greater joys and greater knowledge were yet in store—not only for me but for my beautiful family.”

Visiting teaching is also a very effective tool in retention and reactivation efforts. A young single adult sister shared the following:
“While reading the First Presidency Message from the Ensign, I was reminded of my visiting teaching assignment. My companion was a good friend of mine, but we always seemed to have conflicting schedules. That morning I decided to just make the calls to our sisters, schedule a time, and hope that it would work with my companion’s schedule. Unfortunately, my companion was unable to make it. I asked a couple of my roommates to join me for those visits, but no one was available. Knowing that doing my visiting teaching alone wasn’t ideal, I thought about calling to cancel but decided it was better to make visits by myself than let another month slip by without visiting our sisters.
“I arrived at Alejandra’s home and nervously approached her door, not knowing if I would recognize her. She had been very friendly on the phone, so I imagined it was a sister I had seen at church. Alejandra greeted me with a warm hug and a big smile. It was a new face! During our conversation, Alejandra shared her desire to start going to church again and said she had been hoping for some kind of visit for the past few months. She stated that this was the first time she had ever received a visiting teacher. We talked about some gospel principles and shared our impressions of that month’s Visiting Teaching Message. She committed to going to church that week. Sure enough, she did (she even brought her boyfriend)!
“Since then, Alejandra and I have become good friends. I am no longer her visiting teacher, but we visit much more than once a month. Alejandra attends church and family home evening regularly and is attending institute.
“I now have a stronger testimony of visiting teaching than ever before. I am grateful for the guidance of the Holy Ghost and His subtle prompting that would lead me to such a kind and loving friend like Alejandra. We were equally strengthened from this experience, and we both needed it for our spiritual progression.”

Like many other 16-year-old seminary students throughout the world, Kim Tae Whan, a Korean member, had studied Luke chapter 10, Christ’s parable of the Good Samaritan.
One morning Tae Whan asked his mother, “Mom, will you prepare for me another lunch today?” Mrs. Kim prepared another lunch, thinking that her son was growing so fast that he needed a little more to eat. Every day afterwards she would prepare an extra lunch for him to take.
One day Dr. Kim received a telephone call at work from a close friend.
“Hello, Dr. Kim. How is your family?
“They’re fine!” replied Dr. Kim cheerfully.
The two friends talked back and forth until Mr. Lee blurted out, “Are you sure your family isn’t having any problems lately?”
Pausing, Dr. Kim answered quizzically, “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Dr. Kim, I saw Tae Whan down on the corner selling newspapers the other day.”
“You saw what? Are you sure?”
“I’m positive! I was just concerned about your family’s welfare and wanted to check with you.”
Dr. Kim sat that afternoon in the office puzzled, wondering why Tae Whan would do such a thing and not say anything to anyone. That night after dinner, Dr. Kim quietly waited for the opportunity to talk to his son. Finally he said, “Tae Whan, could I speak to you for a minute?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Son, I got a call today from Mr. Lee. He said he saw you downtown selling papers the other day. Is that true?”
Tae Whan answered sheepishly, “Yes, Dad, but I did it to help a classmate. He didn’t have a lunch so I’ve been giving my extra one to him. And for every paper we sell, we earn 40 won (8¢).”
“Son, why are you doing this? You should have asked me first.”
“But, Dad, every time I help my friend, I feel I’m becoming more like the Good Samaritan. Besides that, I want to help my classmates who aren’t as fortunate as I. I’m not really doing that much. I read about it in my seminary manual and felt it was the thing I ought to do.”
Tae Whan knows the meaning of the Savior’s commandment: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.” (Luke 10:27.)

“When I was a boy, I had decided that I would really like to work in an office at Church headquarters. I came to Salt Lake City after my mission, when I was twenty-one years old. I’d studied shorthand and typing in school, but I couldn’t afford to go to college. Every Monday for many months I went to the Church Administration Building and applied for a job. Finally I was hired for $100 a month in 1938, and I worked there for several years in various capacities. One day Brother Joseph Anderson told me that President George Albert Smith wanted a male secretary who could travel with him, and I was accepted for the job. Years later, on his eighty-first birthday, President Smith died while I was holding his hand.”

One night, for example, I took a group of 8-10 year-old Cub Scouts with their leaders to a wooded area. With the promise that they might see a real owl, I asked them to be exceptionally quiet. No talking, no whispering, no feet shuffling, no movement at all. (Can you imagine Cub Scouts being that quiet?) Then I played the call of a Western Screech Owl--a very soft, bouncy call.

The scouts were very quiet. After playing the call for a few more minutes, we listened in silence. But, it was not really complete silence--we could hear the growl of large trucks on the distant freeway, the barking of dogs, the sound of a jet plane, the whirring of electrical machinery, the noise of a police siren. It is surprising how much noise surrounds us--even at night. Finally my ears picked up the very soft but distant call of a small owl. The boys and their leaders could not hear this sound at first amid all the other competing sounds of the night. I played the recording again; the owl flew closer and called a bit nearer. Soon they could all hear the soft sound. Then, a shadow silently crossed the night sky and landed in a tree. I shined my flashlight on the little owl. It looked down at us with its large yellow and black eyes. The boys and their leaders were so excited--most of them had never seen an owl. We watched it for about five minutes and then this treasured little jewel flew away quietly into the night.

What can we learn from this experience of finding an owl on a dark night? The voice of an owl and the voice of the Spirit are both very soft and still and can only be discerned with great effort.