Gospel Story Finder

I remember vividly the day I was baptized—December 15, 2007. As I stood in the cold water with Elder Kelsey and he raised his hand to the square, the Spirit just filled me up; it seemed to take over my whole frame. I could say that I was also grinning from ear to ear, but that description doesn’t even come close to describing what I felt.
After my baptism I continued to feel the Spirit. I felt sanctified. I knew that my sins had been remitted. I felt the approval of Heavenly Father that this was, indeed, the path I was supposed to take.

More recently, as we were taught to fill out the information in the My Family: Stories that Bring Us Together booklet, the spirit of Elijah was again felt strongly. That is the main purpose in filling out this booklet. This time we felt it was even more personal than when we did our family history work as recent converts.

Before, we spoke of taking names to the temple to perform the sacred ordinances for them. After finding out and recording stories and adding pictures along with the dates of significant life events in the online My Family: Stories that Bring Us Together, we now felt that we knew them, and could not wait to do their temple work. They were now more than just names.
That is how I came to find out about Juana Cancel, one of my father’s grandmothers (and one of my great-grandmothers). She was born in Vega Baja, Puerto Rico in the year 1880. I wrote and recorded the following information about her, which I learned from my father. “Juana Cancel was a very beloved grandmother of my father. She would protect, love, nurture, and spoil him. She safely kept his Life Magazine collection for him. Her husband, Jose Hilario Martinez, died eighteen years before she did. That meant that she had to continue administering and working their farm by herself after his death. She then used to sleep with a half a cue stick, an iron bar, and a hatchet underneath her bed, in case somebody tried to break into her home. She also used to smoke cigarettes. She said that she smoked in order to repel the mosquitoes! She passed away from a metastatic cancer of her cervix. My father remembers her going to receive treatments in the oncologic hospital in San Juan. I love her very much, because it is quite clear to me that my father nearly worshiped her.”
I could not rest until the temple work was done for her. It was a moving labor of love to have all of her vicarious ordinances performed. Family history and temple work are truly the “most glorious of subjects belonging to the everlasting gospel” (D&C 128:17).
I conclude by quoting Sally Johnson Odekirk.1 She wrote an Ensign article where she listed activities that help us do our family history and temple work, in ways that bless all members of the family that participate:
Look at family history websites, especially FamilySearch.org (where you can also find an electronic version of My Family: Stories that Bring Us Together, ready to be completed online). See also churchofjesuschrist.org/topics/family-history/family-history-is-for-everyone.
Take your children to visit the temple or do baptisms for deceased ancestors.
Visit important family sites—such as old homes, schools or cemeteries—and treat them with respect.
Pass down stories about your ancestors. I would add the importance of recording them.
Display (and share) family photos.
Gather and display family heirlooms in your home, cook old family recipes, or plant a heritage garden with flowers and vegetables your grandparents might have had in their gardens.
Create a calendar with birthdays of special ancestors.
Learn about an ancestor’s homeland, including the area’s history and traditions.
Index records at FamilySearch.org.
Keep a photo record of family traditions that you are creating now.
Preserve current and past family history with digital scrapbooks and blogs.
Attend family reunions and family organization meetings.

A certain man, desiring to enjoy the beauties of nature, went for a woodland stroll by the side of a clear, flowing river. Deep in thought about the magnificence of God’s handiwork, he didn’t see the tree roots jutting out near the water’s edge. He stumbled and fell headlong into the river. The water was deep, and the man couldn’t swim! He cried out. But who will hear me? he wondered as the water engulfed him in darkness. He surfaced and shouted again, but his hopes dimmed as he sank for the second time. His call was much weaker as he rose one more time, and he thought, No one can hear me now!
But someone did hear his cries, dived into the water, and brought him safely to the bank.
When the drowning man recovered, he looked up into the face of his rescuer and said, “Oh, thank you! Thank you for saving me. What can I do to show my love and appreciation?”
His rescuer smiled and said: “There are some things that you can do for me,” and he taught him lovingly and carefully.
Then a sad thing happened. Although the man who had been saved lived, his rescuer died as a result of his exertion during the rescue. Despite his sorrow, the survivor had a contented feeling, for he knew what to do to show his love and gratitude for his savior.
So it is with us. Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, died that we might live. We know what we should do, for He has told us: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
There is nothing more precious to me than my testimony of Jesus Christ. I have a witness that He is my Savior and Redeemer, the Only Begotten Son of the Eternal Father. I know that Heavenly Father so loved us, “so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).

I think my young son understood this when he was only three.

One morning I stepped to our back door to see the children off to school. Our little three-year-old son followed the children to the edge of the yard and watched them as they cut across the grass of a newly moved-in neighbor. Enraged, the neighbor called out, “Don’t you kids ever cut across my lawn; don’t you dare step one foot on it again.” He couldn’t see me, but I could surely hear him, and so could every other mother that was out to see her child off to school.

As sweetly as three-year-olds can talk, ours turned to this angry neighbor and said, “You can step on our lawn if you want to.” The next day that neighbor came out with a big smile and a darling teddy bear, and gave it to our little son. There was never again a problem over that lawn.

Receive love. Let others step on our lawn. Open ourselves to receive another.

As a young boy growing up in the island of Vava’u, I was blessed to have good people around me. At the age of two and half, my mother passed away, and I missed the blessing of being raised by her. I do not remember anything about my mother except what I have seen of her in pictures and what I read from her journal. My Dad was the closest person to me and we have become very close friends. I remember how I wanted to be around him and to do everything that he did. He was a very good father and mother to me. Every day I could not wait for him to come home from work so we can spend time together as father and son especially eating our favorite snacks. I think the most important thing that I remember about him was that he lived the gospel to the best of his ability. The gospel was everything to him after his family. He was not perfect but he tried his very best. That was important for me because I tried to follow in his footsteps and wanted to be just like him. I remember at times when I got into mischief, he did not punish me as most Tongan fathers did. He would talk to me not in an angry tone, but in a loving and peaceful way. Sometime I just wished that he could just hit me and get it over with it; but he did not and I will always remember that. I thank him for being such a great example to me of how he choose to live life like our Savior. Because of his good example, it was easier for me to choose the right. My family will tell you that I am far for being perfect, but I am trying to be a better man today than yesterday.

I remember one time meeting a fine young married man who was not very large in stature. He was a professional jockey who had worked for some Latter-day Saint men who owned a large stable of fine racehorses. They taught him how to be a first-class jockey and chose him to ride a truly great horse that they owned. They also taught Johnny the gospel, and he joined the Church.
A year later, his bishop called him to go on a mission. Johnny said, “I can’t go. I’ve got to ride this special horse in the Kentucky Derby. I’m the only jockey who has ridden him.”
However, after some thought, Johnny went to his bosses and asked for their permission to go on a mission. They told him that they had a huge investment in him and couldn’t spare him to go on a mission because of the Derby and the other big races that were coming up. They were sure their horse would win the triple crown. However, neither of his Latter-day Saint bosses felt very good about their decision, so the next day they told him if he wanted to go on a mission, they wouldn’t stand in his way.
He went on his mission, and on the day of the Kentucky Derby, he went tracting in Canada while the horse he would have ridden won. It went on to win the triple crown. The other jockey earned over $200,000 while this fine young man taught the people of Canada the gospel. To me he is an outstanding hero.

Charles helped Mary Fielding Smith, Hyrum Smith’s widow, move her belongings across the river. He and Sarah and little Charles Edward spent the winter at Winter Quarters, then, in March, fit out for the trip West. In fitting out, Charles bought a yoke of oxen, a wagon, a cow, food, and other supplies. They left Iowa City in March, joining Isaac Higbee’s company, and entered the Salt Lake Valley in September, 1848.

I would like to tell you an event in my life which I think typifies what is going through my mind and has gone through my mind the last few weeks. The event started with a phone call from a Mr. Marion T. Romney. My secretary came to me in a meeting, and she said, “A Marion T. Romney wants to talk to you.”
I said, “I think that’s Marion G. Romney.”
“He said you would leave this meeting if I told you that he was calling you.”
I said, “He’s right.”
I think my secretary would like to have told his secretary that I would call back. But I went to the phone, and Brother Romney asked me five questions. He asked me if I would go on a mission; he asked me if I was worthy; he was concerned about my 17-year-old son, my finances, and my health.
I will tell you this, something I learned long ago: It is a question of free agency. On any one of those five questions, had I had to give a no I would have lost my free agency. I was financially able, I was morally able, and I knew the law of consecration and what it meant; and I appreciated the opportunity.
I called my wife immediately afterward and then went home. I talked with my wife, as Elder L. Tom Perry talked with his wife. We have married similar spirits. She has followed me all over the world. We have moved 15 times. She has learned two languages, brought up our children, and has always supported me.
I remember one time after coming back from an international trip. I had been gone for some time. My wife sat down on the arm of the chair, and I put my head on her shoulder. It was near the end of the month, and she asked me if I had completed my home teaching. I will be honest; I had other things in mind. But I went and did my home teaching. That is her training. So it was; I was beginning to learn the law of consecration.
A few weeks later the phone rang again. This time it was a man whom I have greatly admired—Brother Arthur Haycock. I spoke to him briefly; and then, the prophet’s voice—distinctive, clear, the clarion call.
“Brother Hales, do you mind if we change your mission?”
I had thought I was going to the London England Mission. But I figured someone else would have that call, and I said, “I will be glad to go to whatever place you send me.”
He said, “Do you mind if we change it to Salt Lake City?”
And I said, “No, that will be fine, President.”
“Do you mind if it is little bit longer than three years?”
“However long you want it, President.”
“We would like a lifetime of service.”
The past 20 years swept before me. I felt like the man who had fallen off a precipice, who was grabbing on to a limb which was giving way slowly, and who cried fervently in a prayer, “Save me!” And as he looked down to the rocks far below, a voice came clear and strong: “Let go, and you will be protected.” At that, the man looked up in the air again and said, “Is somebody else up there?”
The call was clear. I had to let go of everything that I had known and what I had been striving for in my life to become an Assistant to the Twelve.
I have learned from Joseph Fielding Smith, and have talked to young people, about the law of consecration. It is not one particular event; it is a lifetime, day by day, in which we all strive to do our best that we might live honorable lives, that we might live the best we can in the service of others, as President Joseph Fielding Smith talked about—not as his grandfather, Hyrum Smith, gave his life when he was with the Prophet, but giving our lives each day.
With that, the prophet talked to my wife. We held each other in our arms and said nothing, and we knew that we had and that we would dedicate and consecrate our lives to that mission, whatever it might be, in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We asked our questions which Elder Ashton taught us: “Why me?” And that is past us.
I will say this: It is not in death or in one event that we give our lives, but in every day as we are asked to do it.
In the Regional Representative work, I have been able, over the past five years, to have the hardening of the steel—to watch and work with these men who have been called as special witnesses of God, that they might know and teach and train the priesthood holders with whom they deal.
Do you realize that these men have revelation every Sunday when a stake is formed? As a Regional Representative assisting and kneeling in prayer with them as they give voice through the Spirit, one is able to participate in knowing that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, that we have a prophet of God who is here this day, and that we have special witnesses who will lead and guide us, if we will but listen to their voice.
I ask the Lord in prayer that I might be able to be an example to help lift others, as these men have been over the years. My 17-year-old son said to me, “Dad, do you think, really, you will ever be like them?”
He said it in a little nicer way, but I thought of my life which I dedicate and give and consecrate, that I might be an instrument in His hand, working under the direction of all the General Authorities and asking their help that we might work as one.
I dedicate my life and service, and as Paul declared in First Corinthians, “And my speech and preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power:
“That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.” (1 Cor. 2:4–5.)
I ask the Lord’s blessings upon all those who have made this day possible for me: my Primary and Sunday School teachers; a mother and father who are truly “goodly parents,” who have taught me and who have been an example for my whole life; my brother and sister have always been examples for me to follow with their faith and service in the Church; my wife and my boys—my son on a mission, Stephen, and David, who is here in Salt Lake with me now. They are a great strength to me.
I ask the Lord’s blessings, that I might be one in purpose with the Twelve and with all the General Authorities, and with you, my brothers and sisters; and I say to the priesthood holders that any one of you could be here this day. One cannot ask the question “Why me?” and dwell on it. But I will do as the prophet has said, to put behind me my past life and dedicate and consecrate all my time, talents, and efforts to His work. And I say this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

My wife and I traveled to Osorno Chile to pick up our son when he completed his mission. As we traveled around the mission with him, we took many pictures and the memory in our camera was getting full. So one evening we left the cottage where we were staying and went to an internet café so we could download the pictures onto a thumb drive. We were only gone a short time but when we returned, we found our cottage had been broken into and we had been robbed. We called the police and by the time they completed their investigation and let us go, it was about 3:00 int the morning. Because that cottage was a mess from the dusting for fingerprints and everything else the police had done, they moved us to a different cottage and we went to sleep but we had to wake up at 6:00 in the morning for a scheduled hike with a group to the top of an active volcano.

Rather than sleep in, we chose to get up and take the hike and created a wonderful memory with our son. We never did get any of our items returned to us. My son could have been very upset because he had lost so many memories from his mission including his missionary bag containing his scriptures, but instead, he simply said that he hoped the robbers would read his scriptures and join the church.

What would have happened if we had just gotten angry at the situation and decided to just sleep through the hike the next morning? In that case, our trial would have taken control of our lives and we would have been miserable. Instead, we chose to be happy, to climb the volcano and we had a wonderful time with our son and the rest of the group. President Gordon B. Hinckley often taught that, “Things work out. It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us. ...If we will put our trust in Him, if we will pray to Him, if we will live worthy of His blessings, He will hear our prayers.”

This quote is now printed over the top of a picture that I took of the volcano in Chile that we climbed that day and it sits in my office as a reminder of how we can find joy even in the midst of trial and adversity if we choose to be happy.

Ishmael Stagner also had to be touched by the Spirit before he came to the college. The Kamehameha School graduate had considered a scholarship to Cornell University when he was approached by Pres. Law at a Stake conference. Although Stagner was anxious "to get off the rock to study on the Mainland, he yielded to the spirit to come to the infant school known as the Church College of Hawaii where he had more opportunities for academic or spiritual growth then if he had gone to larger school. He not only won two terms as student body president but was among the original group of CCH singers and dancer who laid the foundation for the Polynesian Cultural Center.

Illustrations by Matt Sweeney
I’m glad we have the same piano teacher.
Yeah. It’s nice to have the same pieces to learn.
Hey, just for fun, I’ll play the bottom hand and you play the top hand.
Hey! We’re so good we can play with one hand behind our backs.
Yeah! Now let’s both play our favorite songs at the same time.
Ow! Wish I had hands to cover my ears.
Sure sounded better when we worked together.
Amen!

One word of caution: It’s also a mistake to leave the university prematurely. Don’t drop out today and go get a job. It’s almost always wise to complete the degree on which you are working. Several years ago we had two MBA students who received job offers that would require them to leave the program one semester before completion. Several faculty members pleaded with the students to stay through to the end, but they had been told that this was the chance of a lifetime, and so they left. Three years later, the company sold off the division in which they worked and they had to find employment elsewhere.

I served mass in the Catholic Church virtually every Sunday, from the age of nine to the age of twenty-one. In this experience, my religious experience, I was taught that any prophet that comes forth in modern times would be a false prophet. When I talk about doctrinal baggage, that was a problem for me. From day one, Joseph Smith could not be a prophet for me because I had been taught prophets in the latter days would be false prophets. With that kind of beginning, and then to be introduced to Joseph, how does one break through that barrier of doctrinal baggage and other baggage – and come to the knowledge of the truth?
Part of my doctrinal baggage was a belief system that declared a God incomprehensible to understand by definition and by logic. I had to work through that with the help of the true doctrines of Christ revealed through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I was introduced to the idea of a Restoration of the gospel through Latter-day Saint friends at Washington State University. My wife today and other young people were my first contacts with the teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
At the age of 21, a returned missionary seminary teacher invited me to attend the first early morning seminary class taught in the state of Washington. It was in Pullman, Washington where I was a senior at Washington State University and was taught by a young man named John Madsen. Brother Madsen was a fellow university student, yet he invited me to come to his class with the young high school students and learn about seminary. I thought that was a curious thing: seminary was where I would have gone to become a Catholic priest. What were these Mormon youth doing in seminary?
During the first few weeks into the course on Church History; who was the major character in Church History? You can’t go a day without learning about Joseph Smith. Some six weeks into the course, Brother Madsen played a tape that most of you have probably never heard. It was called “Profile of a Prophet” by Hugh B. Brown, a former member of the First Presidency of the Church. It was a Friday morning, and in that setting, I still remember the words “under girding and over arching” his testimony as they came into my soul about this prophet, Joseph Smith. I received a powerful witness that morning that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet.
Joseph Smith was truly the latter-day prototype of “asking God.” When we ask the right questions, what can be the answers? I was yet to learn many glorious things. I had said thousands of prayers in my life, but I had not yet learned to pray.
I testify to you that many years ago after one year of investigation of this Church, none of my experiences of past years have been any more powerful, more revealing, more convincing than on a special Friday morning 42 years ago. After going back to my little apartment following the seminary class, having heard the words of President Brown concerning the “Profile of the Prophet”, after having been invited to read selected passages from the Book of Mormon; I was prepared to ask God in sincere prayer “if these things are not true”. As invited to do so by the prophet Moroni in Moroni 10:4-5, I asked with real intent, having faith in Christ that he would reveal it unto me by the power of the Holy Ghost. I desired to know the truth of all things. I asked the right questions, finally. Is Jesus the head of this Church? Is Joseph His prophet? Are there living prophets on the earth today and in this Church? Is this the true Church and should I join? Is the Book of Mormon indeed the word of God? What must I do?
As Moroni promised to the readers of the book, “by the power of the Holy Ghost, you may know the truth of all things.” In that moment of humble prayer, standing reverently and humbly in my little room in my apartment, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet there was burned out of my being every doubt, every concern, every worry, every question that I had about joining the Church. I was still a Catholic, I had never met a missionary, thus what does one do? I sought out those who taught that the Restoration of the gospel had occurred in these latter-days through the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Coming to know the Prophet Joseph Smith was the key to my conversion, along with reading the Book of Mormon, the keystone of our religion. I learned then, as I have continued to learn in these years as a convert, that Joseph Smith’s remarks about the Book of Mormon are true. “A man can get nearer to God by abiding by the precepts of this book than by any other book.”[13] I know that to be true, and that is my personal experience. I have been able to shed the doctrinal baggage that I learned as a youth and I now have been able to understand what God has revealed from the heavens. Through His prophets, through His Christ, through His records, I know these things are true. As I have learned the doctrine of Christ in the plain and precious teachings of the Book of Mormon, I have drawn nearer to God and I know that He lives and He has helped me walk the paths of life.

The Primary of the Prospect Ward, Adelaide Australia Firle Stake wanted to work on bringing their scriptures to church. They decided to put a “fuzzy” in a jar every time they did, because the scriptures give us a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. At the end of the year, they joined the fuzzies together. Their fuzzy “snake” was 6½ meters (21 feet) long! All the children enjoyed this activity, and some days every one of them had their scriptures with them at Primary.

The 49 Montgomery Alabama Stake youths piled out of their vehicles. Rakes, shovels, and axes were unloaded from auto trunks as they began to tackle the weeds, leaves, and debris around the old Magnolia chapel. They were continuing a tradition of service for the Church that stretches back nearly 80 years to the night of Saturday, May 8, 1897, when Henry McCoy and Grover Surginer passed a group of riders hurrying through the dark, wooded lane. The men’s faces were covered, which caused the pair to wonder.
“I recognized one of the horses, though. It belongs to John Garrett,” one of them commented as they continued to the bowery erected for the conference sessions being held in Magnolia.
When the men got to the crossroads where the bowery was located, they discovered that the seats, made of planks and sawed blocks, had been heaped together and ignited. The two men quickly put out the blaze.
The next day the members met again in conference despite the blackened ends of the seats. For them, persecution was nothing new. The missionaries had been tarred and feathered before and had eggs thrown at them. Converts reaped the ire of relatives and neighbors alike, but they didn’t quit. Service to the Church has continued into modern times.
Some of the youths were directed to begin digging around a stubborn four-foot stump. It wasn’t long before thick roots had to be chopped through with the axes as the young people laboriously dug deeper in their attempt to remove the old stump. It had been a stately tree when the Church took hold in that part of the state.
The tree had been young when Olivia Tucker McCoy joined the Church. In her diary she wrote: “We were baptized Oct. 3, 1897. My husband’s father had given him the place he settled on with the understanding that he would help him work and pay for that place and the one his father bought, but as it was his father’s he never got the deed. So, after we joined the Mormons his father told him he would have to move.”
Their little daughter had been burned in a fire in December, and they asked for time before moving the child but were ordered out. On January 3, 1898, “We put her in the wagon on a bed, moved to what they called the Coates place, and rented the same from Jim Smyly.
“The Christmas of 1898 I spent with my sister, a Mrs. Guinn, the one I lived with when I was married. But the folks didn’t seem just the same. You see, I had joined the Mormons and I was reminded of it.”
Nor did the early Saints forget it either. In 1913, with the aid of Elder Sellers from Vernal, Utah, and Elder Joseph E. Ward from Parowan, Utah, the Magnolia chapel was built. It stands now as the oldest LDS chapel in Alabama.
Before construction began, a mob gathered to drive the elders out. Mrs. Willie Autrey, a nonmember, stepped out with her gun and turned the mob away. So the Magnolia chapel was built and has stood through the years as a monument to the dedication of area Saints, early and modern.
The youths raked the weeds and leaves from the Church’s cemetery. The area around the building began to look neater, although the stump was not yet removed. The diggers were making progress when they stopped briefly for lunch.
Despite the persecution in the early days, a number of families joined the Church. Later many moved west—the Martins, Sealeys, Cranfords, Torberts, and others—leaving only a few to use the chapel and the adjoining cemetery.
Today, the old LDS chapel in Magnolia is used for socials only. A newer, larger building stands next door and is used by the 50 members of the Magnolia Branch.
The young people returned to work. The ancient, worn-out fence was pulled down, the rotted wood piled for a bonfire. That afternoon they held a testimony meeting, followed by a hot dog and marshmallow roast, which concluded at 7:00 P.M.
Perhaps as they worked or relaxed, they recalled some of the stories told about the chapel, including the time it caught fire during a conference in 1937. The blaze was caused by a defective flue to the pot-bellied stove. A bucket brigade was formed, and water drawn from the well was passed up to Heber B. Martin, who doused the burning wood.
The chapel has been the scene of a number of talks by various Church authorities, including mission president Charles A. Callis, who presided over the Southern States Mission for about a quarter of a century and later became a General Authority.
Sometimes as many as 30 missionaries would be in attendance at the conferences in Magnolia. Today, conference is held in the Montgomery stake center 100 miles east of Magnolia, but the small chapel, while no longer in official use, still stands as a reminder of the heritage of the Alabama Saints.

About a year and a half later, I was serving in the mountains of Peru when I received an unexpected phone call from my mission president. He told me my father had suffered a stroke and was in critical condition. After a short time, my father passed away. I was devastated, and I felt plagued with questions like, “How can I ever get over this?”
I prayed to Heavenly Father for an answer. Mostly I wanted to know why my father had to be taken away without me even having the chance to say goodbye. I turned to the Book of Mormon, opened it, and read the same words I had shared with that elder many months before: “But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.” Those words covered me with peace like a blanket and gave me grace when I felt lost.
My earthly father was gone, but my Heavenly Father would always be there for me. Heavenly Father does all things in His wisdom, and as we search and do our best to prepare ourselves, we can find precious answers.

I honestly believe that when the scriptures say, “Remember, remember” (Helaman 5:12), they mean that we should not just remember Jesus Christ or remember that we once felt His Light. We must feel His Light now and feel it again and again. That is what one young man, Eric, discovered when he first read the Book of Mormon.

After moving to a new place and starting high school, Eric struggled in his classes and found it hard to fit in. He also began to wonder if he had a testimony.

“I began to seriously read the Book of Mormon for the first time in my life,” Eric said. “I read and prayed every day.”

When Eric prayed and asked Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon is true, he was sure he was going to get an answer, but nothing happened.

Sometime later, while walking through the woods behind his house, Eric asked again. This time, he had an impression, as if Heavenly Father asked him, “Eric, what has happened in your life since you started reading the Book of Mormon and praying every day?”

Eric thought about how he had made good friends and was doing better in school. Without realizing it, the Book of Mormon had brought light and power into his life.

Then it happened.

“I didn’t hear a voice,” Eric said, “but the Spirit filled my heart as these words came to my mind: ‘Of course, it’s true!’ An overwhelming feeling of peace, joy, and assurance came over me. I knew I had finally found my answer.”2

When Elder Richard G. Scott was young, his father was not a member of the Church. His mother was a member, but she didn’t go to church very often. When Richard turned eight years old, he didn’t get baptized. Then his Grandma Whittle came to visit.
Grandma Whittle was a very good example. She helped Richard and his brothers learn how important it is to be baptized and go to church. Soon Richard and his older brother were baptized.

“Go outside and play,” the hired girl said. “You know your mother needs to rest.” So Leta, Sina, Nilla, and Clyde walked from the backdoor, past the pretty tulips, and to the field. At one end of the field was a big root cellar. The part of the cellar not filled with potatoes or other root crops was a playhouse for the four children.

“Let’s get ready for dinner,” Leta said in a special voice that meant she was pretending to be Mother. “Sina, help me tie my apron.” She pretended to take an apron out of a drawer and put it over her head.

Sina pretended to tie a bow in the back, hurrying to finish so she could play the part of big sister. “I will set the table,” she said, turning over a wooden crate and draping it with an old dish towel.

“Nilla,” Leta ordered, “you go back to the house and find us some food to eat.”

Nilla was happy to have an important part to play in this game. She was almost back to the house before she remembered that the hired girl had sent them away and might not let her go into the house again. She looked around carefully until she saw the girl talking to a boy who had ridden up on a horse.

Nilla went to the kitchen. The cupboard doors were open, but nothing was inside. They smelled of cleaning soap. On the kitchen table and chairs were boxes and bottles of various sizes and shapes.

One bottle with a worn red and white label caught Nilla’s eye. She did not know that the picture of the skull and crossbones on it meant it was poison. The label was loose, so she tore it off and threw it on the floor. Then she proudly took the bottle back to her sisters and brother, who were waiting in the playhouse.

Leta opened the bottle and looked at the white crystals inside. “Yes, this looks very good,” she said, closing it up again. “It will take a little while for dinner to be ready, so don’t sit up to the table yet.”

Leta pretended to be busy cooking over the stove, then sweeping the floor. She scolded the children from time to time when they were impatient waiting for their food. Finally she announced it was time for dinner.

When the children took their places at the table, Leta poured a little pile of the crystals in front of each of them. Clyde licked his finger, ready to eat right away, but Leta stopped him. “No food until after the prayer. And I will say it.”

This time, she reminded everyone of their father as she prayed. “Our Father who art in heaven,” she began. “We thank Thee for this food and for …” Her voice rose and fell as she prayed on and on. Her words were mumbled much of the time, so no one was quite sure what all she said. The others did hear her say, “Bless this food to our use” and “Bless the missionaries in the field.” Just when Sina, Nilla, and Clyde thought the prayer would end and the feast would start, Leta thought of a ward member she could mention in the prayer, and the prayer continued.

In the house, Mother, sick and weak, awoke with such a feeling of concern for her children that she found herself standing beside her bed before she was even fully awake. Making her way slowly out of the bedroom, she saw the hired girl asleep on the couch.

The kitchen was spotlessly clean, except for a faded red label that startled her as a breeze blew it across the floor. A picture of a skull and crossbones was on it—and the word strychnine. Mother hurried outside as fast as she was able. She saw no sign of her children in the yard, so she went straight to their playhouse in the cellar.

Leta had just said “amen,” and each child was raising a freshly licked finger over the “food,” ready to pick up the powder and eat it, when Mother’s shadow appeared in the doorway.

Mother had found the children in time! In her heart, she said her own prayer of thanks that the lives of her little children had been spared. She did not doubt for a moment that the Spirit of the Lord had awakened her and led her to the children.

That evening at supper, the children waited patiently through the rising and falling tones of their father’s long blessing on the food. It wasn’t hard to remember their own blessing on the play “food” they had almost eaten in the root cellar.

While they were eating, Nilla whispered to Leta, “Heavenly Father really does hear and understand each prayer, doesn’t He?”

“Yes, He really does,” Leta whispered back.

I eagerly glanced down at the basketball summer league schedule, and saw to my dismay that 8 of the 12 games were on Sunday. What was I going to do? I don’t play on Sunday.
I looked across the room at my talented teammate. I had worked so hard to win the starting forward position, and if I didn’t play, I was going to lose the job to him. But I had decided a long time ago to never play on Sunday, and that wasn’t about to change now.
The coach finished up his speech by saying, “Congratulations on making the team. The first practice is tomorrow at five. See you then.”
The team slowly filed out the door as I sat nervously in my seat. I knew my course of action, but that wasn’t going to make this any easier. I hesitantly walked up to the front of the room and said, “Hey coach, I have a little problem.”
“What’s that, Brad?” he asked.
“Well, I was looking at the schedule, and I saw that there were eight games on Sunday. I won’t be able to play in those games,” I said with a shaky voice.
“How come?” he asked with a surprised look on his face.
“It’s a religious thing. I believe in keeping the Sabbath day holy and part of that is not playing sports on Sunday,” I responded, feeling a little awkward with the situation.
“Okay, well listen. I would still love to have you for the other games—that is if you still want to play,” he said with a smile.
“I would love to,” I said, and we shook hands as if to seal the agreement. I turned and walked out the door, feeling less awkward and more satisfied.
True, I wasn’t going to play for most of the league games and I might lose my starting position, but I felt good all the same. If I hadn’t made the decision early that I was never going to play on Sunday, I might have chosen differently. But I knew I would be blessed for keeping the Lord’s commandments. I confidently walked away from that room knowing that everything was going to be all right.