Gospel Story Finder

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.

In 1995, this time as a mission president, I saw Mama Taamino again. She had moved back to the atoll of Makemo, not far from her birthplace. Now in her 80s, she could no longer walk, but the wrinkles of her face expressed peace, patience, and a deep understanding of life and the gospel. She still had a beautiful smile, and her eyes showed pure charity.
Early the next morning I found her seated in one of the meetinghouse flower beds, weeding and cleaning. One of her sons had carried her there. After she finished one area, she would use her hands and arms to move herself to the next area. This was her way of continuing to serve the Lord.
In the late afternoon when I was conducting temple recommend interviews, Mama Taamino was brought to where I was seated in the shade of a tree near the chapel. She wanted the opportunity to answer each question required for a temple recommend.
“President, I cannot go to the temple anymore,” she said. “I am getting old and sick, but I always want to have a current temple recommend with me.”
I could tell how much she wanted to return to the temple, and I knew that her longing was acceptable to God. Not long afterward, she left her earthly tabernacle to join those she had faithfully served in the house of the Lord. She took with her nothing but her faith, testimony, kindness, charity, and willingness to serve.

Last spring, while I was visiting a class of young women, the teacher asked the class to write our 10 priorities. I quickly began to write. I have to admit, my first thought began with “Number 1: clean the pencil drawer in the kitchen.” When our lists were complete, the Young Women leader asked us to share what we had written. Abby, who had recently turned 12, was sitting next to me. This was Abby’s list:
Go to college.
Become an interior designer.
Go on a mission to India.
Get married in the temple to a returned missionary.
Have five kids and a home.
Send my kids on missions and to college.
Become a “cookie-giving” grandma.
Spoil the grandchildren.
Learn more about the gospel and enjoy life.
Return to live with Father in Heaven.
I say, “Thank you, Abby. You have taught me about having a vision of the plan Heavenly Father has for all of us. When you know you are walking a path, in spite of whatever detours may occur, you will be OK. When your path is focused on the ultimate goal—that of exaltation and returning to Heavenly Father, you will get there.”
Where did Abby get this sense of eternal purpose? It begins in our homes. It begins in our families. I asked her, “What do you do in your family to create such priorities?”
This was her answer: “Besides reading the scriptures, we are studying Preach My Gospel.” Then she added, “We talk a lot—at family home evening, at dinner together, and in the car while we drive.”
Nephi wrote: “We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ.” Why? “That our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins” (2 Nephi 25:26).
Talking, listening, encouraging each other, and doing things together as a family will bring us closer to our Savior, who loves us. Our intentional effort to communicate better today—this very day—will bless our families eternally. I testify that when we talk of Christ, we also rejoice in Christ and in the gift of the Atonement. Our children will come to know “to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”

You see, when the Latter-day Saint missionaries first came to England in 1837, they began their labors in Preston. At that time the city was in the midst of a grand celebration of Queen Victoria’s reign. As the missionaries alighted from their coach, they saw a banner overhead proclaiming in bold gilt letters “Truth Will Prevail.”
It became a widely-used phrase in the Church and appeared in various publications. One elder, reporting on his mission to Indiana, wrote in a letter published in Nauvoo’s Times and Seasons in 1841: “Although the Lord has chosen the weak things of this world to preach his gospel, truth will prevail, and will prosper.”1
Trusting the Lord, I turned in my mission papers. On my 21st birthday, along with my birthday post, came my call to serve in the England London South Mission. Due to my years of inactivity, I still felt weak and inadequate. Only later would I understand what that early missionary understood: the Lord may choose the weak things of this world to preach His gospel, but truth will prevail and will prosper.
I went in faith to the temple to be endowed. When I came out of the temple, I met two missionaries who had served in my home ward. As we talked, I described my experience out on the moors. One of the elders smiled broadly and explained that on a particular preparation day, he and his companion had hiked up on the moors and at a certain point felt impressed to place some rocks across the hillside spelling out the familiar phrase “Truth Will Prevail.”
Tears streamed down our faces as we realized what had happened. Those familiar with the area know there are miles and miles of trails amongst the moors. Yet I happened to choose the very spot where the missionaries had placed those rocks. I knew there and then that the Lord had answered my prayer in the hills that day.

In 1972 my father, his mum and two brothers and two sisters immigrated to Australia establishing themselves in Perth, Western Australia. My father joined the Australian army in 1973, serving in various postings. He met my mother in Melbourne in 1982 and their first date was to a Stake YSA dance. Later, my mother introduced him to the missionaries. Accepting what he had been taught and with the faith and testimony the size of a mustard seed, he was baptized on 9 May 1982. A year later my parents were married and sealed in the New Zealand Temple. Together they had five children. Heavenly Father and living the Gospel have been a blessing in all our lives.

A long time ago, I was called as a missionary to the Texas Houston Mission. The call said that I should report to the MTC to prepare to teach the gospel in the English language. As my stake president set me apart as a missionary, I remember him saying these words: “The language the Lord would like you to learn is the language of the Spirit.”

I knew that to learn the vocabulary and grammar of the language of the Spirit, I would need to study the scriptures, identify promptings, and understand the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. I knew that it was a language I had been learning my whole life as my parents taught me to keep the commandments and to love the Lord. I had mentors and teachers who had modeled fluency in the language of the Spirit. “To take counsel from [the Lord’s] hand,”16 as Jacob instructed, we must develop our own fluency in the language of the Spirit. To try to learn that language, I undertook a deep study of the Book of Mormon.

Once I had arrived at the MTC, I enjoyed learning the principles of missionary work, but I kept wondering how I might say certain phrases in Spanish. When that happened, I told myself to keep focused on the tasks at hand. But my mind kept wandering to the few Spanish phrases I knew, and I kept wondering about Spanish grammar and vocabulary.

I eventually recognized that these unbidden thoughts were the whisperings of the Spirit helping to prepare me to go to Houston, Texas, where there would be many people I would meet who would speak Spanish. So I went to the MTC bookstore and bought a copy of El Libro de Mormón and put it with my things, pleased that I had felt and recognized a prompting and sure that I would have the opportunity to share that book with someone as a missionary.

When I arrived in Houston a few weeks later, my mission president, Clark T. Thorstenson, pulled me aside at the airport. He said, “Sister Steele, the Lord has made it clear to me that He would like you to learn Spanish. I am assigning you to the Spanish-speaking program.”

I felt like the Lord had been trying to whisper it to me all along and was smiling, now that I was in on the plan too. That evening I wondered how I would ever learn Spanish, and I wished that I could go back to the MTC. Then I remembered my Libro de Mormón. I took it out and began to read. My study of the Book of Mormon in preparing for my mission helped me to follow along: “Yo, Nefi, nací de buenos padres.”17 Buenos padres? “Goodly parents”!18

At first I had no other books to use to study the Spanish language except for the Book of Mormon. But I remembered the inspired counsel of my stake president: the language the Lord wanted me to learn was the language of the Spirit. I enlisted the Spirit—who, it turns out, speaks perfect Spanish—to magnify my abilities and to tutor me in both the Spanish language and the language of the Spirit. Those two languages would be crucial to my missionary service.

A few months in, I had a companion from El Salvador, Hermana Seravia. She was a great missionary and senior companion. One day she said to me, “Hermana, you are doing pretty good with Spanish, but you talk too much like a Book of Mormon! We don’t really say, ‘Now behold, we rejoice to be in your home.’”

I have reflected a lot in the years since this experience about the way that calling unfolded. I know that the Lord is omniscient. Surely He knew that the people I was called to teach in Houston spoke Spanish and that I did not know Spanish when my call had been issued months earlier.

So why did the Lord send me to Texas without MTC language training? At the time, if I were to have designed the experience for myself, I would have called me to learn Spanish in the MTC. However, although I have the power of choice and autonomy in many things, I am not the primary architect of my own life experiences. I am called to trust that the Lord has a plan for my life, just as I know that He has a plan for yours. Both the big picture and the smaller details are within His infinite and loving calculus.

As it worked out, the experience was tailored to draw upon my particular strengths and to fortify my particular weaknesses. The airport switcheroo meant that I could not lean upon my own capacities to learn Spanish as a purely intellectual exercise. I had to rely on the gifts and tutelage of the Spirit. I had to plead for the gift of tongues. I had to rely on the prayers of loved ones—the power of which I could feel bringing words and phrases to my mind and loosing my tongue as I taught. The Lord foresaw that Spanish would be a great blessing in my life but that learning to trust Him and rely on Him while learning the language of the Spirit was an even more important lesson.

Today I want to tell you the story of a beloved ancestor.
Mary Price Howells Adams was my maternal grandmother’s grandmother.
She was born in England in 1833 just after the Church was organized in America. She was a twin, but her sister died when she was very young. As a youth she worked in a cheese and butter factory. While she was working there, she found the missionaries, and they taught her and her family the gospel. They believed the missionaries’ message and were soon baptized. They then began the difficult task of earning enough money to “come to Zion.” On March 28, 1857, Mary sailed from Liverpool on the sailing ship George Washington with a group of saints.
It must have been exciting for her to be on such a grand adventure, leaving her family and her native land behind—and having such high hopes of living with people who believed just as she did—but she tells us that she also felt lonesome among strangers while aboard the ship.
Here is what Mary did: she sought out the companionship of other young ladies who were on-board ship who were of her same faith. She writes that “as a result of this seeking, there grew an eternal love among Mary Howell, Sarah Cross, and Ann James which lasted throughout their lives and into eternity.”

Like Tino, Quim served a mission in Portugal. When Harold Hillam, president of the Portugal Lisbon Mission, told Quim, “Brother Moreira, you’re going to be a missionary,” Quim replied: “How? I have no money, my parents aren’t members, and I’ll have to quit my studies.” But the mission president insisted that he must be prepared to go on a mission in a few months, and Quim continued to pray, asking the Lord how it could be done.
One night, in a dream, he saw himself dressed as a missionary, leaving home with his suitcases, and he awoke knowing that it would happen. Financial help was found through the Church, and Joaquim Moreira left school to accept the call. That is a very important decision in Portugal, for it is difficult to gain readmission to a university.

At the unofficial 1906 games in Athens, Greece, an Austrian weight lifter, Josef Steinbach, was scorned by the partisan crowd because it was alleged he was a professional. The frustrated Austrian left the stadium, allowing the Greek in second place to win the event. The flag was raised and the crowd cheered. Then Steinbach re-entered the stadium, walked up to the weight the winner had lifted with great effort, and with ease hoisted it three times over his head.

In 1952, super-athlete Emil Zatopek of Czechoslovakia won both the 10,000 and 5,000-meter races. To celebrate his victory, he announced he would enter the marathon, even though he had never run the 41.8 kilometer event before.

“Do you really think you can win?” a newsman asked.

“If I didn’t think I could win, I wouldn’t have entered,” Zatopek replied.

At the 24.1 kilometer mark, Zatopek was side-by-side with Him Peters of Great Britain, the pre-race favorite.

“Don’t you think we should be going a bit faster?” Zatopek asked, then ran ahead. He was grinning when he won.

Football player Floyd Little of the Denver Colorado Professional Football Team summed up self-confidence: “I choose not to be an ordinary man. It is my right to be uncommon if I can.”

It had been a rough freshman year of high school. Jenica B., 17, of Illinois, USA, had ballet training, demanding high school courses, and Church and family responsibilities that were all competing for her attention. She was running on four to five hours of sleep, and it was exhausting. Jenica and her parents all knew something needed to change.
“I would love to have a professional career in ballet,” Jenica says, “but ballet, as many dancers know, is a very fragile world, and it’s very difficult.”
Jenica wanted to keep training her hardest, but she also knew she wanted to make her education a priority. “We’d heard of other dancers who had done online school,” she says. “I knew that we had to find a program that would be perfect for me.”
So her mom found an accredited online school program that would allow Jenica to participate in extracurricular activities, and prepare for college while maintaining a rigorous ballet training schedule. And she’d have time for homework, scripture study, and rest. They jumped on the opportunity.
“That was truly a blessing,” Jenica explained. “That was when I started training [in ballet] in Chicago, and I was still able to attend seminary. And I got so much more time to be with my dad because he also works in the city. I was even blessed with incredible opportunities to share the gospel with friends who were curious. It was a really good experience.”
Jenica and her dad spend time together traveling to the city, sometimes even eating dinner together there.
Some of Jenica’s opportunities to share the gospel have come when dancing has taken her away from home. She has found ways to maintain her standards and even to share her beliefs with friends. One summer, she was able to attend summer ballet trainings in both Arizona and New York City. While in New York City, she posted a picture of the Manhattan New York Temple on social media. She also likes to post dance images on social media with an inspiring quote from a Church leader or an uplifting thought.
“We can all use social media to spread the gospel,” she says. “It doesn’t have to be a big post about everything. It can just be a simple something that sparks interest or hope in somebody.” In the end, she says, “other people will be grateful for our courage to share in such a public space.”
Sharing with her friends and maintaining those friendships has helped Jenica to maintain her standards as well. “They’re very respectful of my beliefs,” she says, “and I’m grateful for that, because it makes it easier for me to live them.”
Even with Jenica’s new schedule and new opportunities, balancing all of her responsibilities isn’t easy. She attends early-morning seminary, catches some time with her dad on the train into Chicago, trains in ballet for the day, and then focuses on homework, scripture reading, and Church activities in the evening.
Attending early-morning seminary is important to Jenica, and her new schedule makes it possible.
So how does she do all of it? “It’s very difficult,” Jenica says. But through all of her scheduling and organizing, she asks a simple question: “What do I want most at the end of the day? Because at the end of the day I want to be the best at ballet that I can be but also maintain my schoolwork and be able and prepared to go to college when the time comes, and so it’s a sacrifice now.”
Photograph courtesy of Jenica B.
She adds, “I had a ballet teacher who stressed that we need to put God and our families and our education first and then ballet, because ordering our priorities that way truly helps us focus on what is most important in this life. Having incredible examples like my ballet teacher and the people who guide the Church has helped me understand how to make this happen.”
Jenica enjoys talking with her friends about anything, including the gospel.
One thing Jenica has decided to keep high on her list of priorities is keeping her standards. Fortunately, most studios she has worked with have asked ballet students to maintain modest dress standards, making it easier for Jenica to uphold her own standards. But outside the studio, she says people notice a difference in what she wears.
“My friends do ask, and I’ve told them what the Church standards are that I hold, and they definitely think that it’s interesting, but they see where I’m coming from and where my beliefs are coming from so it tends not to be a problem.”
Jenica’s friends are very supportive when she talks about her standards.
And people notice differences besides the clothing Jenica chooses to wear.
“People have definitely mentioned to me how they know people in the Church and they’re just very happy—they live happy lives—and they notice the light that we share even if we don’t think that other people are watching. They notice differences. They notice when we choose to not use certain language. They notice when we choose not to use things that would be harmful to us, and for the most part they definitely value our strength to stand for what we believe in.”
Jenica has also found many opportunities to make service a priority in her busy schedule. For her online school’s National Honor Society program, she worked at the bishop’s storehouse and with an international organization to earn service hours. And when she was working toward earning her Young Women Honor Bee, she found a way to incorporate her passion for dancing in her community efforts. She started volunteering for two hours on Saturdays to teach ballet to inner-city children.
“I’ve come to realize my passion for service,” she says. “I love feeling like I can make a difference in the world. Even here in Illinois, when I assemble food packs, I can help someone all the way across the globe—and with my own hands. And it helps me realize—even though I don’t know them—the love that God has for His children.”
Jenica loves having time to enjoy things like ice cream and games with her family.
Through all of her experiences in dancing, finding service opportunities, sharing the gospel, and organizing her responsibilities, Jenica has found a great appreciation for the things that matter most in life.
“There are things that we value in life and that we want to pursue, and I know that Heavenly Father will provide a way for us to do that if we continue to keep our faith in Him,” she says. “Sometimes we can lose our sight on what’s truly important and we lose sight of how much He has helped us in these things that we’ve been trying to achieve.” Jenica says she’s learned that “some things don’t go the way that we planned, but no matter how difficult it is, He has a plan for each and every one of us and if we truly pray and ask Him for help, He will provide a way for us to achieve what we want to if it’s in His plan for us. And we just have to wait and be ready to accept what He wants us to do.”

Every day Papa put a bucket down the well, hoping to bring up water, but the best he could get was damp sand on the bottom of the bucket.
“Don’t try the well till I get there,” Ed called down from the loft to Papa, when he heard the door shut after milking.
“Me, too,” I yelled and scrambled down the ladder.
One day the bucket made a splash when it went down. “There’s water,” Papa announced and pulled quickly on the rope to bring up a dripping pailful.
“Water!” Ed shouted.
“Water!” I echoed.
It was a race to the house to tell Mama, and she was so excited she said, “Let’s celebrate. I’ll make pancakes for breakfast.”
“Hurry then,” Papa said. “We have to get the pipe and sucker rods in.”
“What are sucker rods?” Ed wanted to know.
“They’re wooden poles to suck the water out of the ground.”
“Where do you put them?” I asked.
“First, we put a big pipe down to the bottom of the well. Then we put the sucker rods, one at a time, inside the pipe and push them as far as they’ll go into the sand.”
“What if they aren’t long enough?” Ed asked.
“We’ll fasten another one onto the first. They’re made so they can be screwed together.”
“Then will the water come up?”
“Yes, as soon as we build a windmill to run the pump.”
“What if it pumps water all over and makes a mud hole?”
“It won’t. We’ll have it fixed so we can turn if off.”
“What if the wind doesn’t blow when we want water?”
“We’ll have a storage tank. The pump will fill it up when the wind’s blowing, and we’ll use the water when we need it. I saw a galvanized tank in the Sears Roebuck catalogue. I’d better send off for one right away.”
“Pancakes are ready,” Mama announced, and we sat up to the table to eat them.

Halfway through my senior year of high school, I received a huge surprise. My parents were called to preside over the Uruguay Montevideo Mission, which meant that they would be moving to another continent along with my four younger siblings. I was already stressed about graduating from high school, but now I would be attending college all alone.
My transition from high school to college could not have been harder. I had always thought that I’d have my family nearby when I entered university, but now to see them I’d have to spend nearly 24 hours on planes and in airports. While I was surrounded by kind roommates and thousands of students, I had never felt more alone.
The pressures of school were overwhelming. I didn’t know what I wanted to study and found my classes challenging. And I was also struggling in a difficult dating relationship. I never knew that entering adulthood could be so hard and didn’t know how to move forward. My fear of the future overwhelmed me.
Soon, my fearful feelings made it difficult to function. Getting out of bed and being productive was difficult. One morning, I was asking the Lord to give me the strength to make it through the day. “I can’t keep doing this alone,” I told Him. And in a rare moment of mental and emotional clarity, I heard the soft words of the Spirit whisper, “You don’t have to.” Peace flooded my mind. I knew that somehow everything would work out, even if it didn’t happen immediately.
I remembered those words on the most difficult days. They helped me through the first semester, but when the second semester came, I was once again flooded with fear. The Lord sustained me every day, but I was afraid I would never feel better.
Then, general conference of April 2017 came around. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, then the Second Counselor in the First Presidency, taught about the power that faith and love have over fear. “I don’t believe God wants His children to be fearful,” he said, “‘For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind’ [2 Timothy 1:7].”1
I felt like he was speaking directly to me. I knew I didn’t want to keep feeling fear, doubt, and depression. But for the first time, I believed that God didn’t want me to feel those feelings either. Sure, there are challenges in mortality, but that didn’t mean I had to suffer forever. Through the strengthening power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I could have a “sound mind”—a mind that wasn’t broken by fear, depression, anxiety, or loneliness.
President Uchtdorf taught, “Rather than dwelling on the immensity of our challenges, would it not be better to focus on the infinite greatness, goodness, and absolute power of our God, trusting Him and preparing with a joyful heart for the return of Jesus the Christ?”2
Focusing on the goodness of God and trusting in Him didn’t mean I should have ignored my challenges and acted like everything was OK. But I could do my own part to find healing and progress. Choosing faith over fear meant moving forward with optimism, hope, and trust in the Lord.
So, I started working through the process of replacing my fear with faith. I realized how mentally damaging my dating relationship had been, and Heavenly Father gave me the strength to leave it behind. Even though I wasn’t healed completely, I felt like I should serve a mission. I submitted my papers, trusting that the Lord would prepare me. In the meantime, I studied everything I could find about Jesus Christ, trying to better understand how He could strengthen and heal me. As I talked to family and friends about my challenges and received professional help, my loneliness and depression started to fade.
As President Uchtdorf also taught: “As His covenant people, we need not be paralyzed by fear because bad things might happen. Instead, we can move forward with faith, courage, determination, and trust in God as we approach the challenges and opportunities ahead.”3
Now, years later, I’ve served a mission, married a man who cherishes me, graduated from college, and pursued a career that I love. My family returned from the mission in Uruguay, and we are closer than ever, even when challenges hit.
By holding on to faith instead of fear, my relationship with the Savior has been transformed. I no longer fear that my life will never get better. I truly know what it means to trust in Him and can testify that He has healed me emotionally and spiritually.
I don’t have all the answers for the future. I still fear many things, like the responsibilities of future callings or the challenge of raising children. But I know that when I trust in the Lord and choose faith over fear, I will always be led to hope and happiness.

It’s opening night.
Makeup has been applied, costumes put on, and props laid out. The final shout of “break a leg” has finished echoing through the hallway. After hours of utter chaos, it’s peaceful. Actors who moments ago joked and talked with one another now sit side-by-side in silence. Slowly they are making the transition from the everyday lives of modern-day teens to the daily struggles of adults who lived more than 100 years ago.
They are getting into character.
“When you’re in character, you’re acting just like that person, feeling the way they feel, and you have to let that show,” says deacon Jeff Timmons.
Building a character for a play means training yourself to think, feel, and behave the way your character would. In real life, building a character is not that much different. It requires the same hard work, discipline, and dedication as acting. But it also requires making decisions about the attributes that should be included in the part you wish to play—things like willingness to work, to share, and to love others.
In Los Lunas, New Mexico, Jeff and his fellow cast members are participants in a ward play that spreads the gospel message. While they are learning how to act on stage they are also helping each other learn the best ways to act in life.
Part of creating a strong character includes an appreciation of those who have gone before. As part of their stake’s Pioneer Day celebration, the youth in Los Lunas re-created the lives of 19th-century Armenian converts to the Church in their production of “And They Shall Be Gathered.”
“The early converts to the Church faced challenges, just like we do now. They were just different kinds of challenges,” says Geoff Pankretz, a priest who plays the male lead, Sarkis.
The Los Lunas First Ward put the production together with the help of director Norlan Jacobs, who was in the original production of the play at BYU more than 20 years ago. Brother Jacobs, cast members say, taught them many things about acting—concepts like blocking (learning where to stand and how to move on stage), characterization, and motivation. But more important than that, he stressed the significance of the story the play tells: a story of love, sacrifice, and of the great strength early converts to the Church were required to have.
“Brother Jacobs told us about the actual people the play was based on. They left their family behind in Armenia because they knew the Church was true. They decided to come to Utah. After they left, their family was killed. It makes you realize how important this play is. It gives you an appreciation for what people went through,” says 16-year-old Shae Dunkley.
Sometimes building character means knowing when to be a leader and when to be a follower. Putting together a play is no exception.
“This play has taught me a lot about working as a team,” says 17-year-old Libby Farnsworth. “I’m used to getting on the stage and being the center of attention, but this play is not a one-person show. You have to really allow the limelight to be on the person it’s supposed to be on.”
On stage, teamwork means remembering your own lines and helping others out when they forget theirs.
“Libby’s really great at feeding me lines. When I forget what to say next, she repeats the line before, to jog my memory. She’s saved me more than once,” says Geoff.

One Monday in Frankfurt, I got hung up at work and arrived at the church just after the carpool of our group of young single adults had driven away to a distant apartment across town.

For me, this was a disaster. Some of you will know that the streets of Frankfurt are designed like a spider web that has been through a fire. The streets wander through each other in random disorder, crossing rivers and tram tracks and back again. Someone seemed to go out at night to reverse one-way street signs so that even when you thought you knew where you were going, you could not go that way. I remembered that a couple of months earlier I had ridden through the dark to this same apartment, crammed in the crowded back seat of a car, but I remembered nothing of the route. I knew only that it was many miles of tangled streets away.

I drove home a sad, dejected soldier. I remember folding my arms, intent on grumbling a little, and saying, “Heavenly Father . . .” But before I could continue with “I am really trying here,” something of a map flashed in my head: a well-lit sequence of streets started at the church and traveled down Eckenheimer Landstraße, through a number of intersections, around a traffic circle, left, right, left, over a bridge, more turns, and onto a broad-bending street in front of an apartment building.

I was incredulous. There was not a chance I could drive to that place. But I returned to the church to make a faithless try and followed the route that had been impressed upon my mind. After driving perhaps twenty minutes (and making about forty uncertain decisions), I turned onto a broad street alongside an apartment building that filled the entire length of the long, bending city block. I was stunned to see that I was pulling up to what might be the right building.

Now I had a new problem. There were several narrow tunnels through the building into small parking areas behind that accessed stairwells to the four floors of apartments above.

“Impossible,” I thought. “I don’t know if any of those is the right drive-through, and besides, there are hundreds of apartments.” But it seemed to be a miracle that I had gotten this far, so I slowly drove past several drive-throughs and blindly turned into one.

Standing at the base of a dark, cold, four-story building, I thought, “Even if this is the correct stairwell in the correct building, they could be anywhere on any floor.” I started climbing the stairs, with little hope of a hint. Ultimately I stopped on the third floor. This way or that? That way. Was the door on the left or right side of the hall? I walked past eight or ten doors, my feeble faith vaporizing by the moment. I thought, “I may not even be in the right building. Does my faith require me to just start knocking on random doors?” I stopped to contemplate that question and heard singing: “The Spirit of God like a fire is burning!”

I opened the door, the most astonished twenty-three-year-old in the Church. Heavenly Father had sent a shaft of light that replaced my bewilderment with wonder. Later that night I couldn’t even find my way home without a guide.
What were the chances?

Eventually I returned to BYU, still confused about how it could have made sense for me to drop out of school for three long years. Subsequently, many reasons have become clear.

After returning to school, I started dating a girl I had met in Frankfurt, a girl from Tooele, Utah, whose father had taken a job in Germany—a girl so far beyond me in every way that I could never have gotten her attention at BYU in Utah if I had not known her first in Germany, where she was in a state of diminished capacity as a fellow stranger in a strange land. And so it came to pass that against all odds she agreed to marry me. What were those chances?

I have learned that the Lord sometimes withholds blessings from us to eventually deliver undeniably discernible miracles. I would serve one hundred army enlistments for that one stunning miracle that formed our family.

Now at BYU, I was serving in the bishopric of a singles ward and became friends with the ward finance clerk, who had just returned from a mission in France. He finished his finance degree at the same time I finished law school, and he invited me to help him build a company. Thirty-five years later, that company touches millions of people in fifty countries. I marvel that but for that burst of light in the temple years before, I would have come and gone from BYU and never met Blake Roney, who has enabled so many miracles in our lives.

The list of blessings flying from that still, small spark of inspiration goes on and on. None of these things are coincidences. They are consequences of a string of unpredictable heavenly interventions that have burst through the veil as flashes of light through what has at times felt like a drab, never-ending gray wall.

There are times when we can become upset at imagined hurts or perceived injustices. President Heber J. Grant, seventh President of the Church, told of a time as a young adult when he did some work for a man who then sent him a check for $500 with a letter apologizing for not being able to pay him more. Then President Grant did some work for another man—work which he said was 10 times more difficult, involving 10 times more labor and a great deal more time. This second man sent him a check for $150. Young Heber felt he had been treated most unfairly. He was at first insulted and then incensed.
He recounted the experience to an older friend, who asked, “Did that man intend to insult you?”
President Grant replied, “No. He told my friends he had rewarded me handsomely.”
To this the older friend replied, “A man’s a fool who takes an insult that isn’t intended.”3

Anya lives in Russia. When she was only 14 years old, she was being taught the gospel by the missionaries. One day in her school class, the teacher was saying false things about the Church and about the Book of Mormon. There were no Latter-day Saints in the school to defend it; but little Anya, who was not even a member, only an investigator of the Church, knew that what the teacher was saying was wrong. She stood up in front of the whole class and defended the Book of Mormon and the Church. What courage! She told them that what they were saying was not true and that she knew the Book of Mormon was true, and if anyone wanted to know the truth for themselves, she invited them to read it like she had done. Then Anya went home and told the missionaries she was ready to be baptized. I love Anya’s courage as she stood as a witness at an important time.

As a young bomber pilot, Lieutenant Packer’s long months of scripture study and prayer gave him a belief that what he read was true—but he needed to know!

Counter to the inner peace he sought was the hell of war around him. From a rise above a rocky shore on Ie Shima Island near Okinawa, he viewed parts of human bodies floating in the shallow waters below. He saw a slaughtered mother and her infant lying near their gutted cottage. A love and compassion for the innocent and poor of the earth enveloped him—but also for the billions of the dead.

Soon after, a hurricane hit the island with such velocity that it leveled buildings and wrecked ships. One night following this event, Boyd struggled with doubt and uncertainty. He needed a sure witness.

He arose and walked some distance to enter a makeshift bunker—there to kneel and really ask. Almost mid-sentence it happened. He knew, for it was given him to know.

In a western city a young man had been preparing for 18 years to go on a mission. He was excited, his parents were excited, his girlfriend was also, and he was ready.

One evening at the city swimming pool, he and some friends were diving from the highboard. The second he hit the water, he knew his approach angle had not been good. He was in trouble. His head pierced the water and struck the bottom of the pool with a sickening thud. He was immediately knocked unconscious. He was brought carefully to the poolside and then rushed to the hospital. After weeks of medical attention, he was finally told that he would be paralyzed for the rest of his life from his neck down. He couldn’t move a finger or a toe, an arm or a leg. He would now lie in bed forever. His body would become a useless thing, and unless something unusual happened, so would his spirit.

A wise bishop recognized the problem. After talking with the boy’s parents and the doctor, the bishop gave him an assignment. It was unbelievable, unreal, impossible! The assignment: would he please write a letter each month to every missionary and serviceman from their ward? Was the bishop just not thinking or was he inspired? How could the boy write with no hands or fingers to assist? Some had learned to use their toes in such an emergency, but he couldn’t move his. Having faith in their bishop, the boy and his parents started to work on the assignment. It took days, weeks, and months of effort and discouragement. In time, it began to happen.

By putting a pencil between his teeth and moving his head, he learned to make a mark, then a word, next a sentence, and finally a page. He wrote and wrote.

For over 20 years he has been writing beautiful letters. He has inspired thousands. The side benefit is that his own spirit, simply stated, is magnificent. Is it worth the effort to follow our leaders’ counsel no matter how hard or how difficult? He thinks so. So do I.

Around the world needles have been slipping through satins, calicos, muslins, and velvets, stitches taken tiny and neat. No ordinary sewing projects, these—they’re works sewn from the strong threads of testimony, thankfulness, love of family, and all the lovely feelings a young woman holds sweet in her life.
What’s the occasion?
The young women of the Church have made banners to celebrate the Church’s 150th anniversary!
“A banner lets you express what’s important to you,” explained Shauna Stebers of the Northwest First Ward, Chicago Illinois Stake. “It’s not just a sewing project—it’s a part of your personality, of what’s important to you and how you feel about the gospel. And it’s a special reminder of the Church’s sesquicentennial that you’ll be able to pass down to your children and to their children.”
If you could float your thoughts or goals high above the crowd for the world to see, what would you show them? Some young women quilted or sewed slogans on their banners like “Plant happiness and love will grow,” or “I love and sustain our prophet,” or “Prayer is so simple it’s like quietly opening a door.” Other young women filled their banners with symbols of their heritage and goals. And all of them spent long hours designing, planning, and sewing the banners (often with the help of mom, dad, brothers, or sisters).
And the stories the banners tell! Marylynne Aposhina of the Hunter Ninth Ward, Hunter Utah West Stake, designed her banner after an oriental rug her great grandfather, Zadik Moses Aposhina, had made. A wealthy rug designer, her grandfather was forced to flee Armenia because of persecution against Christians. He lost his wealth, and some of his family members were sold as slaves in Mexico, but after overwhelming struggles, they finally reached the Salt Lake Valley.
“Making the banner helped me appreciate my heritage even more,” said Marylynne. “My mother and grandmother and I had fun together doing it, too. I don’t get to do things with both of them very often.”
Teuila Matua, a Mia Maid from the West Jordan 24th Ward, West Jordan Utah South Stake, whose first name means “Ginger Flower,” is Samoan, and her banner reflected her heritage. Her banner was symbolic of a taupaou (handmaiden) of Samoa, who must be of royal family, must be pure, and have dignity.
Teuila explained, “My heritage and the work of the Lord go hand in hand. First, I am born of the royal birthright of Christ. Second, I have purity in keeping clean thoughts and maintaining moral standards. Third, I have dignity in studying the scriptures, attending Church meetings, and keeping the commandments of the Lord.”
Mary Lou Beilfuss, a Laurel from the Holladay 17th Ward, Salt Lake Olympus Stake, earned the money for her banner by working at a grocery store. The theme of her banner was eternal life.
“It helped me understand more about the recent death of my father, because I studied more about eternal life. The subject was on my mind a lot, and the banner gave me the opportunity to express it on material.
“My mother and sister helped me make it. We are very close already, but working together helped us share our love. I feel close to them because they’re always willing to help. We also shared tears together because the banner had a very special meaning. It made my sister and I think of our father and my mom of her husband.
“I learned from making this banner that I am a daughter of God and that he is there when I call. It has helped my self-image and helped me grow closer to my Heavenly Father. Also, it comforted me about my father’s death,” said Mary Lou.
Many of the young women earned the money needed for the banner by themselves. Others made their banners from materials they already had. LeeAnn Cox of the West Jordan 36th Ward, West Jordan Utah Stake, raised the money by babysitting, giving rides on her horse, and selling bread.
And the excitement of making the banners was often contagious. Annett Pemberton, a Laurel from the Bluffdale Second Ward, Riverton Utah Stake, spread her enthusiasm for the banner to her friends and family. “I included everyone as I prepared my banner—mother, father, all 11 brothers and sisters, 5 friends, my basketball coach, and my sewing teacher at school. I learned that friends can make a big difference in a person’s life if you give them the chance to help.” Annett’s brothers and sisters each made a quilted patch with their name on it for the bottom of her banner. The patchwork symbolizes love, purity, and loyalty to the gospel, Annett explained, and her theme is “A Quilt for My Lord.”
And there are many, many other stories that the banners tell. LeeAnn Cox’s banner was in honor of her pioneer ancestors whose son was lost while they traveled across Nebraska. The mother pinned a red shawl on the shoulders of her husband who was to search along the trail for the lost son. The bright shawl waving in the evening sun let a mother, sick with worry, know that all was well.
Kjersti Harward’s banner honors her grandparents in Sweden who dearly wanted to come to America after they joined the Church. Even though they saved enough money, they decided they couldn’t leave their parents, who were unable to make the strenuous journey. Her grandparents sacrificed by remaining in Sweden until their parents no longer needed them.
Displaying the banners has been just as exciting as making them, many of the young women have found. For the Pioneer Day Parade in the Salt Lake Valley, 1,500 young women dressed in white marched up Salt Lake streets, heads erect, banners pointed towards the sky. Thirty-six young women dressed in costumes from around the world marched alongside. And a band of 76 young women playing flute, drum, and clarinet accompanied them all by playing hymns.
In Pasadena, California, at the Rose Bowl, 400 young women dressed in white displayed their banners to the audience gathered for a regional dance festival. And throughout the Church, programs are being held in special meetings where the young women have the opportunity of displaying their banners and bearing their testimonies.
“Making the banners can bring you special opportunities and blessings, even if you can’t march in the 24th of July parade like we did,” said Alyson Barlow of the Monument Park 16th Ward, Salt Lake Monument Park Stake. “It lets you say how you feel about the gospel and brings you closer to whoever helps you.”
Lanette Madsen of the Butler 16th Ward, Salt Lake Wasatch Stake, agreed. “It’s helped me grow so much and can be a great missionary tool. We were able to display our banners and explain them to the people who attended the World Conference on Records. Thousands of people were there, many of them non-Mormons, and I think we were able to touch the hearts of the people who saw us. Many of them were from other countries, and even if they didn’t know our language, they could still feel our spirit.”
“It gives you a good opportunity to spread the gospel, because people ask you what your banner is about. It’s an easy way to talk to them about yourself and the gospel and what you believe,” said Becca Briggs of the Oak Hills 5th Ward, Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake.
For many of these nimble-fingered seamstresses, their banners have pulled a shower of blessings down from the sky. It’s given them the chance to learn more about their heritage, to get closer to their families, and to pass their testimonies down to future generations. And to top it off, they’ll have a lasting reminder of the Church’s 150th birthday.
As Jeannie Winters of the Taylorsville Utah North Stake, 14th Ward, put it, “I think all the young women should make banners, because if they don’t, they’re passing up a great experience they’ll remember all their life.”

May I share with you the account of Tihi and Tararaina Mou Tham and their 10 children. The entire family, except for one daughter, joined the Church in the early 1960s, when missionaries came to their island, located about 100 miles (160 km) south of Tahiti. Soon they began to desire the blessings of an eternal family sealing in the temple.

At that time the nearest temple to the Mou Tham family was the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, more than 2,500 miles (4,000 km) to the southwest, accessible only by expensive airplane travel. The large Mou Tham family, which eked out a meager living on a small plantation, had no money for airplane fare, nor was there any opportunity for employment on their Pacific island. So Brother Mou Tham and his son Gérard made the difficult decision to travel 3,000 miles (4,800 km) to work in New Caledonia, where another son was already employed.

The three Mou Tham men labored for four years. Brother Mou Tham alone returned home only once during that time, for the marriage of a daughter.

After four years, Brother Mou Tham and his sons had saved enough money to take the family to the New Zealand Temple. All who were members went except for one daughter, who was expecting a baby. They were sealed for time and eternity, an indescribable and joyful experience.

Brother Mou Tham returned from the temple directly to New Caledonia, where he worked for two more years to pay for the passage of the one daughter who had not been at the temple with them—a married daughter and her child and husband.

In their later years Brother and Sister Mou Tham desired to serve in the temple. By that time the Papeete Tahiti Temple had been constructed and dedicated, and they served four missions there.