Gospel Story Finder

When Mitchell Compton was young, his mother often said to him, “Mitchell, God saved you for something special.” Then she would straighten his shirt and kiss him on the forehead. Mitchell didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he felt that it included protecting his four sisters, since he was the only son in the family.
As the years slipped by, his mother’s words receded into his memory. Mitchell drifted into intoxicating fun with friends. He knew he was not setting a good example for his sisters when he attended wild parties with kegs of beer. He sadly saw that his little sister was following his lead. Alcohol opened Mitchell’s gateway to drugs. By age 16, he was stealing to pay for his addictions. He spent many soul-searching years in jail.
Seven years later, his little sister died in a car crash. Her blue Mercury sedan landed upside down in a drainage ditch filled with three feet of water. Mitchell arrived at the scene of the accident too late to rescue her. He felt empty, like a vacuum had sucked out all his strength. Later, when he took the tragic news to his mother, she sobbed in a thin, bird-like cry and then collapsed into the arms of her friend. Mitchell was frozen at the sight. He was supposed to protect his little sister.
Wanting to get his life on track, he began attending AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meetings. While Mitchell was there, a young missionary pushed a Book of Mormon into his chest and then disappeared. Mitchell devoured the book and thought it was the truest form of religion he had ever read. When he rode public transportation, he often found other missionaries and discussed the Church’s beliefs with them.
Later at another AA meeting, Mitchell decided to believe in God and His Son, Jesus Christ. He started to pray, as Moroni instructed, but Mitchell felt nothing. He guessed he just didn’t know how to pray.
Mitchell found a free book at another AA meeting that dealt deeply with praying with a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Mitchell took it home and read it. When he finished, he put the book on his bed and fell to his knees. He begged to be forgiven as his tears wet his bedcovers. Then slowly, as if the veil had parted, he felt the forgiveness of his Savior.
Mitchell decided to take the missionary lessons. The warm feeling of the Holy Ghost continued with him each time he sincerely prayed. Later the missionaries gave tickets to Mitchell and his wife, Shauna, to attend the October 2014 Sunday morning session of general conference. They told Mitchell that if he would attend with a question in his heart, it might be answered.
Mitchell went to conference with this question to the Lord: “Should I be baptized, and on what date?” Throughout the meeting, he silently prayed, but it seemed his flow of inspiration had stopped. He prayed earnestly once again: “Lord, what day is a good day to be baptized? Please hear me.”
While President Thomas S. Monson spoke, the answer came to Mitchell. He heard an exact sentence in a soft voice, as if someone were sitting beside him. “Mitchell, any day is a good day for you to be baptized. It’s time for you to come home.”
Mitchell silently cried. His wife and the missionaries were crying as well. They seemed to understand what had happened to him.
The Tabernacle Choir added an additional confirmation as they sang:
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home, come home, come home.1
Mitchell was baptized in November 2014. He and Shauna were later sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. They also performed the ordinances for his little sister who had died. Shauna was the proxy for his sister. As Mitchell lifted her from the baptismal water, he clearly heard his mother’s voice: “Mitchell, God saved you for something special.” He finally understood. He had not been there to save his sister from alcohol and death. But he was now there to rescue her so that she could live—live eternally with her Father in Heaven.
Since then, Mitchell and his wife have performed temple ordinances for many generations of his family. Although his mother has long since gone to the spirit world, he knows she now understands more clearly as well. By doing temple ordinances for his whole family line, he is making it possible for all of them to “come home.”

Raking leaves wasn’t as easy as Shannon had thought it would be. And it wasn’t as much fun as it looked. The rake was taller than she was and was hard to hold.
“Do you want me to help you?” her mother asked.
“No, thank you,” said Shannon. “I want to do it by myself to surprise Dad.”
The autumn air was crisp like the crunchy leaves crackling under her feet. But the sun shone brightly, and, feeling hot from the exercise, she took off her sweater.
“Would you like a glass of lemonade?” Mom asked.
This time Shannon said yes.
“Dad will be pleased with your surprise.”
“I know.” Shannon finished her drink and hurried back outside. She wanted to be done before Dad got home.
She raked and raked and raked. Finally there was only a giant pile of colored leaves in the middle of the yard. She could hardly wait to show her surprise to Dad.
Mom called to her from the kitchen window. “Guess whom I hear pulling up.”
Shannon ran around the house and down the sidewalk to greet her father. A sudden gust of wind almost swept her off her feet, but Dad caught her and gave her a bear squeeze. “I’d better hang on to you,” he said, laughing. “I don’t want my favorite daughter to blow away.”
“Come to the backyard, Dad,” she said, pulling him along. “I have a surprise for you.”
Just before they got there, Shannon said, “Now close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so.” She led him the rest of the way, going slowly so that he wouldn’t trip. “My pile of leaves!” she wailed. “It’s gone everywhere!”
Dad opened his eyes. “Don’t feel bad, honey,” he said after she’d choked out what had happened. “It was a wonderful surprise.”
“How could it be wonderful when it’s not even there anymore?”
“Well, a pile of leaves isn’t really the surprise—it’s knowing that a special little girl worked very hard to do something nice for her dad. The wind can’t blow that away, no matter how hard it tries.”
Shannon brightened up. “Really?”
“Really,” Dad said and kissed her forehead. “I bet the two of us could rake up these leaves again in no time if we did it together.”
Shannon smiled. “I’ll get the rake.”

After our first date, we both knew we wanted to go on a second date. Ben wanted to go on another date because Rachel was friendly and fun to talk to. Rachel wanted to go on another date because Ben was a gentleman and was still smiling after all of his well-laid plans fell through. After the second date, plus many more dates and prayers after that, we fell in love and decided to get married in the Sacramento California Temple.
The wedding day was absolutely perfect, and we have loved being married ever since. The world may see marriage differently, but we know that “no other relationship of any kind can bring as much joy, generate as much good, or produce as much personal refinement.”1Marriage is awesome, and here’s why.

Just less than one year after our arrival in Florida, our five-year-old son was diagnosed with a medical condition that would make life significantly challenging for him. We hoped it was a misdiagnosis and prayed for a miracle.
I do believe in miracles! But they didn’t seem to be happening for us the way I hoped. Did we not have enough faith? Did Heavenly Father hear our prayers?
Life was busy as we adjusted to a new place and new schools with a growing family. Elder Homer’s job required a lot of travel. It was a stretching time for sure. I wanted our home to be a happy, comfortable place for our children, yet I felt incapable of providing this for them as I was heartbroken and worried for our son. I often poured out my heart in prayer, and sometimes in those moments, I felt such peace, and I felt known and loved. I arose from those prayers feeling more lighthearted and capable, and this hope carried me through the tough times.
Our son is doing well now, but watching the ups and downs of his life was challenging. The truth that I was known and loved by God, and that, with His help, I can do what once seemed too difficult, deepened my testimony. Life, as President Russell M. Nelson said, did not become easy, but it became easier. [2] I know we are all children of a loving Father in Heaven, and while we may not fully understand what we are capable of, He does.

Near Independence, Missouri, the Knights eagerly pitched in to establish the area as a center place for Zion and for a great temple. When twelve men laid the first log as a foundation of Zion, five were Knight relatives. Newel Knight was one of seven who dedicated the Jackson County temple site. For the Knight clan, such ceremonies stirred hope of a great future, despite the tragedies among them. Mother Knight had been so sick on the trip from Ohio that Newel brought along lumber for her coffin. Her “greatest desire,” he wrote, was “to set her feet upon the land of Zion and to have her body buried” there. She became the first Saint buried in Missouri. That year, death claimed two more Knights—one of them Newel’s sister Esther, the other his uncle, Aaron Culver.

Del Norte Ward
The Primary children of the Del Norte Ward, Poway California Stake, were encouraged to do extra chores to earn money to purchase 100 copies of the Book of Mormon. Each child wrote or dictated his or her testimony to be pasted in a Book of Mormon. They also collected placemats and ribbons, which the girls sewed into scripture bags during an activity day. They put each Book of Mormon in a scripture bag, and the Primary president gave them to Primary children in Daveytown and Johannesburg, South Africa.

You are never too young to strengthen your family. Just ask Edward B., age 7, from Halifax, Canada. His testimony helped his father realize that the Church is true. Now their family is holding family home evening for the very first time and getting ready to go to the temple!
When I was born, my dad wasn’t a member of the Church. When he tucked me in at night, I always told him, “Daddy, you have to know that this really is the true Church.” Mom and I prayed and prayed that he would join the Church. Finally, one day he told me that he wanted to be baptized!
Even our cat came to family home evening!
We sang my favorite Primary song, “Nephi’s Courage,” and had chocolate brownies, which I love.
To prepare for family home evening, we visited the Halifax Nova Scotia Temple grounds. I took lots of pictures.
During our first family home evening, we talked about how our family could get ready to go to the temple. Every time we thought of a way we could prepare to go to the temple, we put one of my pictures of the temple up on a board.
We braided bracelets out of colorful string. The strands of the bracelet are tied together to remind us that our family can be sealed together forever.

In July 2011, I was called to serve as a stake president in Christchurch, New Zealand. Our stake had just experienced three major earthquakes. The last one had been just a few weeks before my call and didn’t know that there would be two more significant earthquakes during my time as a stake president. One in December 2011 and another in February 2016 along with thousands of aftershocks during those years.

As a stake presidency, we sought revelation and guidance. Many of our members houses were destroyed. The city was in a state of devastation. The central city was to remain closed to public access for almost two years following my call and even today signs of the damage remain. One of our meetinghouses was to be demolished as a result of the destruction and our stake centre would not reopen for over two years. We asked the Lord what He would have us do.

My wise first counselor suggested that we should say to the members: “Come with us to the temple”. We invited them as a stake presidency, to come with us to the House of the Lord. This was no easy feat. There was no temple on our island. Going by car was a 15-hour drive and a three-hour ferry ride. Going by air was expensive. We would have to find accommodations for many. However, the Lord had been clear in His direction to us. We invited the saints to come with us to the House of the Lord. In October 2012, over 400 of our saints attended the House of the Lord together. That decision blessed our stake for many years to come and even into the challenges, many years later, of the pandemic.

Our people had confidence that as they attended His house they would receive His power and His love.

The second example of lives filled with service, with which I shall conclude, is the missionary experience of Juliusz and Dorothy Fussek, who were called to fill an 18-month mission in Poland. Brother Fussek was born in Poland. He spoke the language. He loved the people. Sister Fussek was born in England and knew little of Poland and nothing of its people.

Trusting in the Lord, they embarked on their assignment. The living conditions were primitive, the work lonely, their task immense. A mission had not at that time been fully established in Poland. The assignment given the Fusseks was to prepare the way so that the mission could be expanded and gain permanence, that other missionaries be called to serve, people taught, converts baptized, branches established, and chapels erected.

Did Elder and Sister Fussek despair because of the enormity of their assignment? Not for a moment. They knew their calling was from God, they prayed for His divine help, and they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to their work. They remained in Poland not 18 months, but rather served for five years. All of the foregoing objectives were realized. Such came about following an earlier meeting where Elders Russell M. Nelson, Hans B. Ringger, and I, accompanied by Elder Fussek, met with Minister Adam Wopatka of the Polish government, and we heard him say, “Your church is welcome here. You may build your buildings, you may send your missionaries. You are welcome in Poland. This man,” pointing to Juliusz Fussek, “has served your church well, as has his wife. You can be grateful for their example and their work.”

Like the Fusseks, let us do what we should do in the work of the Lord. Then we can, with Juliusz and Dorothy Fussek, echo the Psalm: “My help cometh from the Lord.”

When I opened my mission call and learned I would serve an English-speaking mission in America, I was relieved. I struggled in vain to learn a language in high school, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with that again in the MTC.
During my mission I served in a Samoan ward. Most of the members spoke English as well, so we could easily work with them.
Then my companion and I began to teach a part-member family who had been raised in Samoa and had just moved to America. When one of the girls asked me to perform her baptism, I felt impressed to learn how to say the baptism prayer in Samoan. I knew my weakness in learning other languages, but my love for her and her family overcame my fear.
That night I went to another member’s house so he could teach me how to say the prayer in Samoan. Despite 30 minutes of practicing, I left discouraged and frustrated because I had not gotten very far. That night I asked the Lord to bless me with the gift of tongues if He wanted me to say the baptism prayer in Samoan.
When I practiced the next morning, I quickly found I was not only able to say the baptism prayer, but also recite it from memory. The day of the baptism came, and I was able to say the baptism prayer in Samoan nearly perfectly. I felt the Spirit work through me. I know the Lord can work miracles for us if we have the faith and allow Him to work through us.

I arrived home late one winter night after conducting many interviews as bishop. I was exhausted. Work had been stressful for weeks, and family and Church responsibilities made me feel stretched beyond my limits.
That evening, I had to fix my car so I could get to work the next morning. As I put on my coveralls, I changed roles from bishop to mechanic. I lay on the cold garage floor underneath the car and began working. Why did I have to be freezing, exhausted, and busting my knuckles after I had already worked so hard that day? I was losing my patience and began a whining, pleading prayer to Heavenly Father.
“Is it possible You could help me a little?” I said. “I’m trying my best to be a good father, husband, and bishop and to live the commandments. Wouldn’t I serve better if I could get some rest? Please help me get this done so I can go to bed.”
Suddenly, three clear, distinct words came boldly to my mind: “This is it!”
“What?” I responded.
The words came again: “This is it!”
Understanding began to fill my mind and heart when the words came a third time: “This is it!” These words carried a message to my spirit. “It” was mortal life, and I was experiencing a moment of growth designed to help me become what Heavenly Father wants me to become. It was as if the Spirit said to me, “Did you expect this earthly journey not to have struggles?” When I arose from that freezing concrete floor, I was not the same.

I got a kite for my birthday. It was fun to see it go up in the sky. Then the wind blew it into a tall tree. My daddy couldn’t get it down, so we prayed that Heavenly Father would help me get my kite back. Every day I went to look at my kite, but it was still in the tree. Several weeks later a big bucket truck came down our street. My mommy saw the truck and asked the men if they could get my kite down. They were happy to. I knew Heavenly Father would answer my prayer. I just had to be patient.

By the time Annapurna graduated from college at age 20, her parents had begun planning a traditional arranged marriage for their beloved daughter. But Annapurna never considered her dreams to be unattainable because she felt that they were not hers alone. “I had big dreams,” she says, “but actually God had His own plans for me.”
When Annapurna was 21, those divine plans started to become reality—miracle by miracle. First, she met Santosh Murala, a faithful Latter-day Saint visiting his family in Hyderabad. A medical student, Santosh was doing a surgical residency in Chandigarh, two days away by train. When they met, Annapurna and Santosh talked for half an hour. After that brief conversation, Santosh called his friend Neil Twitchell, who was then serving as India Bangalore Mission president, and confided, “She’s gold!” Santosh felt quite clearly that this was the woman he had been looking for. Annapurna felt that Santosh—the first Latter-day Saint young man she had ever met—was the man she had been praying to find.
The two exchanged a few letters, confirming their feelings. Several months later they married. Understandably, Annapurna’s family was upset at first, as was Santosh’s. But Annapurna was legally old enough to marry a man of her choosing.
Annapurna viewed this situation through the eyes of faith. “If I had married to please my parents and other people,” she says, “then my children might never have known about the Church and the whole responsibility for that would have been on my head. This one step has changed life for me and my posterity. For this life my parents may be upset with me, but for eternity they will be happy and proud of me.” In fact, Annapurna’s parents are already more accepting of her marriage. They like Santosh and even get together socially with Santosh’s parents.

I recently encountered a situation that challenged the way I thought about agency and personal revelation. As I was nearing the end of graduate school, I had a few different job offers in different cities and could not decide which one to take. Like the brother of Jared, I had experienced many moments where I had prayed about a major decision and God answered with a pretty definitive response. Relying on those prior experiences, I began to pray and ask God to help me decide which job I should take. I was also doing my part by learning about each job opportunity and counseling with many people. But no matter how much I prayed or fasted, the heavens stayed silent, and I received no answer.

The deadline to make a decision was approaching, and I began to panic. Surely this was the kind of decision the Lord must care about, so why wasn’t He answering? Maybe He didn’t care about which job I chose, but He must care about which city I moved to since it would undoubtedly have an impact on my life. The Lord had always cared about my decisions in the past, so why would He not care about this one too?

Yet no matter how hard I tried, no answer came. I started to wonder if I had drifted far enough away from God that I could not hear His answer. I also wondered if I could not hear because I subconsciously did not want to hear the answer. Finally, the day before the deadline, I knew I had to make a choice, so I used my judgment and made a decision. That night I simply prayed, asking if He would tell me if my answer was wrong. Still no response came, so I went ahead and took the job.

Several months later, I was still questioning my decision, so I asked for a priesthood blessing to receive reassurance. In the blessing I was told that I didn’t get an answer to my prayer because the Lord was happy with any decision I made. This blessing reinforced advice previously given to me by my mission president, who told me that oftentimes it doesn’t really matter what decision we make. God wants us to learn how to stand on our own two feet and decide how to live our lives. My mission president also reminded me that God, as our Heavenly Father, won’t punish us and take away promised opportunities if we are sincerely trying to figure out what to do.

I once drove a considerable distance to attend a testimonial for a friend who was leaving his home for a new position in another section of the country. The winter weather was threatening and roads were hazardous. It would have been easy to excuse myself from the obligation. I had been given no part to play in the proceedings, and it was unlikely that I would be recognized in the throng that would undoubtedly gather. But this man had reached out his hand to me at a critical time and had touched my life; and my life had changed. I was compelled to go and join the others in paying him this honor.

The community in which the man had lived was a small one. He had never drawn about him much of the world’s goods. The little business he had operated could have been profitable enough, but he was too interested in people to be much concerned with the profit motive. He was always available but never demanding. There was nothing ostentatious about his charity. Most of us had learned to take him very much for granted, and it is unlikely that he ever would have been given any public honor until his burial day, had not his unexpected leaving brought us to remember how important his influence and friendship had been to us. The gathering on this night was the spontaneous expression of our love and sense of loss.

This same spontaneity characterized the testimonial meeting. As we entered the hall in which the gathering was to be held, we were asked to sign our names on slips of paper which were then folded and placed in a cardboard box. When the large crowd was seated and the honored guest had taken his place on the stand, after a song and a prayer, the chairman arose to announce the proceedings. He pointed to the cardboard box which was now on the rostrum. Names would be drawn from the box, he explained, and those who were chosen in this manner would be asked to represent everyone present in expressions of love and gratitude for our departing friend.

One by one the names were drawn. As the hour passed, a procession of unrehearsed speakers filed to the podium and there unfolded the legacy of selfless service that this man had given. In absorbing the drama of the occasion, each one of us must have become sensitive to the goodness which had reflected from him and had become mirrored in one way or another in our own lives.

As the meeting drew to a close, the name of a local physician was extracted from the box. For many years the good doctor had lived as a neighbor to our honored friend. He had recently returned to his home following treatment in another state for what had proved to be a near fatal illness. He earnestly addressed himself to the gathering. For many years, he explained, he had contemplated the parallels in his own life and that of his neighbor. From his point of view, each of them had been preeminently involved in service to others. He told of leaving his home to make professional calls at hours both early and late and of frequently encountering our friend departing on what seemed to be similar errands of compassion. It was at these times, the doctor said, that he felt particularly drawn to his neighbor in a fellowship of service.

At this point the speaker paused involuntarily, and his voice became touched with emotion. Making reference to his recent illness, he related how he had left this same community several months before, not knowing whether he would ever return. No farewell testimonial had been held in his honor. He confessed that he had been a little disturbed by the obvious inequity in the attentions shown to him and to his neighbor, particularly in light of the service that both had given to the people of the community. Tonight, however, it had occurred to him why this was so.

With all of the apparent parallels between his life and that of his friend, there was one profound difference that set them apart in the eyes of their fellows. For all of his services, the doctor pointed out, he had collected a fee. That was the difference. He had not realized until now how much his fees had cost him.

Those of us who knew the good doctor and had been the recipients of his kindly ministrations realized that his self-deprecation was unjustified. But he succeeded in these dramatic circumstances in imparting a lesson that most of us will not soon forget.

An example of our two emotional extremes occurred two years ago. As part of an outing, a group of Latter-day Saint Boy Scouts entered an abandoned mine in the mountains not far from here. Somehow, young Joshua Dennis was separated from the group and became lost in the mine. Anyone who has ever lost something valuable will remember that terrible feeling. The pain is most extreme when we have lost a loved one. Joshua’s family and friends feared their loss might be permanent.

Search efforts were organized. For days, many good people dropped everything they were doing to search for the one who was lost. Many shared the pain of his loss. Then, miraculously, he was found. Prayers were answered, and the mercy of a loving Heavenly Father was manifest in the happiness of family and friends reunited with the one who was lost. The pain of loss turned to the overwhelming joy of reunion. (See "Hidden Treasure," Ensign, Aug. 1991, pp. 30–35.)

During his third year of law school, his wife was pregnant with their second child and he was an associate editor of the law review when the call came to serve as elders quorum president. “At this challenging time I accepted the call and prayed to Heavenly Father to make up the difference,” he said. “I needed help to fulfill my calling, successfully complete my education, find employment, and care for my young family. The blessings we received were far beyond what we deserved. That experience gave me great faith in the goodness of the Lord and His blessings upon those who earnestly strive to serve Him.”

The summer before my senior year in high school, I decided to participate in my hometown’s Olympic-length triathlon. I had always been a runner, so the 10 kilometer run portion didn’t worry me too much. And I liked cycling, even though 40 kilometers seemed like a long time to be on a bike. What I was really concerned about was the 1.5-kilometer swim, but as I trained over the summer, I became more confident in all three events.
The night before the race my dad helped me set up my swim-to-bike transition. We made sure everything was placed just right, so I could get to biking as quickly as possible after I got out of the water.
At 7:00 the next morning, I jumped into the cold river to begin the race. In less than 30 minutes I was out of the water and getting ready to begin the bike course.
Thousands of people were competing, and even more people were there to cheer the racers on. I knew my family members and friends were along the course somewhere, but I didn’t know where, and I didn’t think I could pick their voices out of the large cheering crowd surrounding the transition zone. Just as I was about to hop on my bike, a voice cut through the noise.
“Heather, the chain is off your bike. Heather, put your chain back on. The chain is off your bike.”
It was different from all the other voices that were yelling and cheering the triathletes on. That voice stood out to me because I knew and trusted that voice. It was the voice of my high school cross-country coach. I looked down, and sure enough, my chain was off. I quickly put it back on and began riding. A few hours later I had successfully completed my first Olympic-length triathlon.
Had I not heard my coach, I would have figured out pretty quickly that the chain was off my bike. But I probably would have figured it out with my right foot clipped into my pedal pushing down hard to get my momentum going. Without the anticipated resistance from my chain plus my predisposition to being accident prone, I most likely would have fallen over onto the pavement. It wouldn’t be a race-ending or even a serious injury, but I would have had a skinned-up knee and elbow, along with a big hole poked in my confidence. I was grateful for my coach.
That day on the triathlon course, my parents were at the race supporting me, but they couldn’t be everywhere. I needed help from someone else, in this case my coach, who saw what I didn’t notice. The Spirit can be that someone for us wherever and whenever we are worthy and willing to listen. And if we listen and obey, we will successfully “run … the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1).

Nine-year-old Camille has lots of friends. “The thing I really like about my friends is that they are all different,” she says. “They come from different places, and they have different ways of doing things.” Camille loves to learn good things from her friends, and she likes to share things with them. The best thing she’s ever shared with a friend is the gospel. After sharing the first article of faith with her friend Yailin, Camille invited her friend’s family to meet the missionaries. Camille also taught Yailin how to pray. Now Yailin and her mother are members of the Church.

I was also touched during the October 1994 general conference as Elder Claudio Costa told the following story:

During the time I presided over the Brazil Manaus Mission, I witnessed great examples of true success, stories which came from people truly devoted to the gospel and to their covenants with God.

One man I met lived simply in a tiny, little town in the middle of the Amazon. After being baptized with his family, he could hardly wait to complete a year’s membership in the Church so he could take his wife and children to the temple. The São Paulo Brazil Temple is very far from the Amazon. It usually takes four days by boat and four days by bus to get to the temple—about a week’s travel. This man was a cabinetmaker. How could he save enough money to pay for himself, his wife, and his children? Although he worked hard for many months, he made very little money.

When the time came to go to the temple, he sold all his furniture and appliances, even his electric saw and his only means of transportation, a motorcycle—everything he had—and went to the temple with his wife and children. It required eight days of travel to reach São Paulo. After spending four glorious days in the temple doing the work of the Lord, this family then had to travel seven more days to return to their home. But they went back home happy, feeling that their difficulties and struggles were nothing compared to the great happiness and blessings they had experienced in the house of the Lord. [Claudio R. M. Costa, “Priceless Principles for Success,” Ensign, November 1994, p. 27]