Gospel Story Finder

When I was baptized at 18 years old, I knew that living the gospel of Jesus Christ would become a way of life. I felt the importance and seriousness of living gospel standards, and doing so has blessed my life in many ways.
One gospel principle that is really important to me is honoring the Sabbath day. It allows me to stop my daily routine and to focus my thoughts on my Heavenly Father.
I work in a tourism business in Costa Rica. In this industry, it is typical for people to work on Sundays. When I started my job, I identified myself as a member of the Church. I requested—and was granted—Sundays off.
Because of my unusual request, my colleagues and my boss were curious. They asked me a lot of questions about my beliefs. Over time I had opportunities to explain to them some of the things that Latter-day Saints believe. In many cases my explanations of gospel doctrines earned their respect.
One day my boss gathered our staff for an announcement. “I need you all to come to work for the next two weekends,” he said. My heart sank. I knew this meant I would need to work on Sunday.
But then my boss continued: “That is, everyone except Juan Carlos. We know that nothing is going to make him come to work on Sunday.”
I was relieved. My boss had honored my request! Because of my behavior and the standards I exhibited at work, I had gained his respect. As a result he was willing to honor my beliefs.
I know that as we make gospel standards a priority in our lives, the Lord will bless us.

Recently, on one of my trips at the Lagos airport, a registered taxi driver with the airport management who knew very well about the pick-up rules of the airport chose to violate the rules. He had the choice of picking passengers up at the official designated area or doing so at prohibited places. Rather than chose to exercise his agency wisely, he chose to use his agency wrongly and had his car impounded, his time wasted, his passengers disembarked, and his car dented.

Here is an experience that Sister Krull had.
Jonny, whose name has been changed for privacy purposes, was a local area Facebook referral.
We introduced ourselves and explained our purpose as missionaries. Over a few months we had the opportunity to share with him Jesus Christ’s restored gospel.
We helped to answer all his questions. He grew up with a Christian background but, like many others, noticed that not all we said was in the Bible; he eagerly accepted a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Jonny had a desire to learn more about God and to become a better version of himself. He agreed to be baptised at the beginning of 2021. His baptism, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, was limited in the number of people that could attend. Now, all of this sounds like a typical missionary story, but not so.
For some months, all we knew was the sound of Jonny’s voice over the phone call. We had never met him in person until the day of his baptism. Finally, we could put a face to the name we had been teaching.
I mention this because many people think that you can only feel the Spirit when you are face-to-face. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Once you are testifying of the Saviour Jesus Christ, the Spirit is there.
The fact that Jonny was baptised showed us that we weren’t the only ones to feel the presence of the Holy Ghost. All of this happened because of a Facebook advertisement that invited him to understand and to seek God.
This experience is a witness of how missionary work has continued to move forward despite the crazy times we are in.

After his baptism, Jorge had to forgo many social customs associated with his budding banking career. At first he was the target of teasing and jokes from co-workers who were curious to see how long he could go without a drink or a cigarette. But Jorge remained faithful to his covenants, and his critics eventually became his greatest protectors from those who tried to pressure him into disregarding the Word of Wisdom.

I recently observed from a distance a couple who at one time had faith in Christ but then decided to discard their belief. They were successful in the world, and they found pleasure in their intellect and the rejection of their faith.
All seemed well until the husband, still young and energetic, suddenly fell ill and died. Like an eclipse of the sun, they had blocked the light of the Son, and the result was an eclipse of hope. The wife, in her disbelief, now felt disoriented, painfully unprepared, unable to comfort her children. Her intellect had told her that her life was in perfect order until suddenly she could see no tomorrow. Her despair brought darkness and confusion.
Let me contrast her painful despair with another family’s hope in Christ during a heartbreaking time.
Twenty-one years ago the newborn son of my nephew Ben Andersen and his wife, Robbie, was life-flighted from their Idaho farming community to Salt Lake City. I arrived at the hospital, and Ben explained the severe, life-threatening complications with their baby’s heart. We placed our hands on Trey’s tiny head. The Lord blessed him with continued life.
Trey had heart surgery the first week of his life, and more surgeries followed. As the years passed, it became apparent that Trey would need a heart transplant. Although his physical activities were limited, his faith expanded. He wrote, “I have never felt sorry for myself because I have always known the importance of having faith in Jesus Christ and a testimony of the plan of salvation.”
Trey kept on his phone this well-known quote from President Nelson: “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”
Trey wrote: “I have always looked forward to serving a full-time mission, but … my doctors won’t let me serve a mission until at least a year after my transplant. … I’ve put my faith in Jesus Christ.”
Trey was excited at being accepted into the accounting major at BYU beginning this semester, but even more excited in late July when he received the very anticipated telephone call to come to the hospital for his heart transplant.
“One year,” Trey said, “and I will be on my mission.”
There were great expectations as he entered the operating room. However, during the surgery there were devastating complications, and Trey never regained consciousness.
His mother, Robbie, said: “Friday had been the most heartbreaking day … just trying to wrap our minds around it. … I had stayed up late just trying to process everything. … But Saturday, I woke up with a feeling of absolute joy. It wasn’t just peace; it wasn’t denial. I felt joy for my son, and I felt joy as his mother. … Ben had gotten up a lot earlier than me, and when we finally got a chance to talk, Ben had awakened with the exact same feeling.”
Ben explained: “Clarity came to my soul as God taught me through His Holy Spirit. I awoke at 4:00 a.m. and was filled with indescribable peace and joy. How is this possible? … The passing of Trey is so very painful, and I miss him so much. But the Lord does not leave us comfortless. … I look forward to a joyful reunion.”
Trey had noted in his journal these words from President Nelson’s general conference talk: “It doesn’t seem possible to feel joy when your child suffers with an incurable illness or when you lose your job or when your spouse betrays you. Yet that is precisely the joy the Savior offers. His joy is constant, assuring us that our ‘afflictions shall be but a small moment’ [Doctrine and Covenants 121:7] and be consecrated to our gain.”

Prior to the handover ceremony, 132 members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints congregations joined with other members of the community to clean the health center and prepare the building for new medical equipment.

The building had been abandoned many years ago. During the four-month renovation project, skilled laborers volunteered their time to the project. Electricians, carpenters, bricklayers, aluminum fabricators, painters, plumbers, and masons all served to ensure the completion of the project. The community youth participated by clearing debris and cutting the grass.

The coordinator of the project, Clement Okoye, was excited that months of hard work and sacrifice had come to fruition. “The community has been needing a functional health Center for a very long time,” said Okoye. “This is a dream come true. The mortality rate here is very high due to lack of medical amenities. Daily life is a risk where we live. We are grateful that LDS Charities came to our rescue.”

Ezeigwe Peter, president of the Onitsha Nigeria Stake, stated that he was overwhelmed by the support and appreciation shown by the community and was impressed by the commitment of individuals. He charged them to maintain the facility and ensure they use the donated equipment judiciously.

One Sunday morning, we were sitting on the veranda when my oldest daughter, who was three years old, asked me a question that caught me by surprise. She saw some of her friends going to church in their nice clothes. “How come we don’t go to church?” she asked. At that time we weren’t attending church because my wife and I belonged to different churches and neither wanted to join the other’s church.
My daughter’s question really made me think. I was troubled because before I was married, I always went to church. That night I was inspired to kneel and seek divine guidance. I recall even saying that I would offer my life to serve the Lord.
A few days later, two young men knocked at our door and introduced themselves as messengers of the Lord. When I saw their calling cards, I remembered some things I knew about their church. When I was young, I used to read western novels that referred to Mormon pioneers and settlements. I had also read about some members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in American magazines. When we started talking about the doctrines of the Church, I was surprised to find that I already believed most of its teachings. I had read the Bible and knew that God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost were three separate beings, and I felt that there must be prophets and revelation.
The elders continued to teach me for several months, but somehow I could not gain a testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. I had read the passages in the Book of Mormon that the missionaries marked for me, but I had trouble accepting their challenge to read the whole book.
I enjoyed having them in our home, but I had the feeling that they were getting discouraged with me. One day when they challenged me to read and pray, I felt that it would be the last challenge. I didn’t want them to stop their visits, so I decided to read. This time before starting, I prayed with a real desire to know if the book was true. A miracle happened: instead of getting bored as usual, I was so interested that I couldn’t stop reading.
That night, after reading many chapters, I knew that this was the word of God. Now that I had a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon, it was very easy for me to accept Joseph Smith as a prophet. When the missionaries returned and asked me if I wanted to be baptized, I said yes. I was baptized in November 1964. I felt the Spirit of the Lord so strongly during my baptism that I really felt reborn. Besides the covenant of baptism, I made a private covenant that I would serve the Lord all my life.
I am very grateful to be a member of the Church. I hope that you children of the Church will learn through prayer and study that the gospel and the Book of Mormon are true. My wife and I have eight children whom we have raised in the gospel. I am grateful my oldest daughter, when she was a small child, asked me that important question. Because of her, I began to seek the truth and to serve the Lord and others. You can help your parents and families remember the Lord, as my daughter helped me.

Amidst the terrible hostilities in Missouri that would put the Prophet in Liberty Jail and see thousands of Latter-day Saints driven from their homes, Sister Drusilla Hendricks and her invalid husband, James, … arrived with their children at a hastily shaped dugout in Quincy, Illinois, to live out the spring of that … year [of great suffering].
Within two weeks the Hendrickses were on the verge of starvation, having only one spoonful of sugar and a saucerful of cornmeal remaining in their possession. In the great tradition of LDS women, Drusilla made mush out of it for James and the children, thus stretching its contents as far as she could make it go. When that small offering was [eaten by them], she washed everything, cleaned their little dugout as thoroughly as she could, and quietly waited to die.
Not long thereafter the sound of a wagon brought Drusilla to her feet. It was their neighbor Reuben Allred. He said he had a feeling they were out of food, so on his way into town he’d had a sack of grain ground into meal for them.
Shortly thereafter Alexander Williams arrived with two bushels of meal on his shoulder. He told Drusilla that he’d been extremely busy but the Spirit had whispered to him that “Brother Hendricks’ family is suffering, so I dropped everything and came [running].”

Cody Carr knew when he was only four that he wanted to be an astronaut. He had a little bank shaped like a spaceship that he put his tithing money in, and each time he dropped in a penny, a light would go on as if the rockets were firing. As he grew older, his school friends kidded him about being a spaceman, but Cody was serious. Those were the days of the birth of the manned space program, and he listened to every minute of every flight.

Naturally, his twin interest was astronomy. He received a telescope for Christmas and began getting up at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning to look at the stars. “The night sky always fascinated me,” he said. “The whole universe is God’s creation, but we don’t know very much about it. I have often thought that if there were another frontier left, I’d be out exploring it. But the only one left is outer space, and there’s only one way to get there—by becoming an astronaut.”

In school, Cody took all the science and electronics classes he could. “I didn’t think electronics had much to do with space exploration, but dad suggested it, and I loved it!” He became a finalist in a statewide electronics competition.

Part of Cody’s goal to become an astronaut included a goal to become an Air Force Academy cadet. As he progressed through high school, he counseled with his father and mother and prayed about each step along the way. He had three great goals in life.

The first was to keep all the commandments of his Father in Heaven. The second was to serve a full-time mission. “All my life we have talked about a mission and the things pertaining to a mission. It was never ‘if you go on a mission’ but always ‘when you go.’” The third great goal was temple marriage.

“Every night before we went to sleep, mom or dad would come around to our beds and ask each of us in turn, ‘What do you want out of life? What do you want to do? What do you want to be?’ Those goal-setting sessions really helped me keep my head on straight. Every night I said those three things and sometimes others—like the astronaut plans—but always those three. We would talk about what I needed to do to achieve those goals, and then we would talk about any problems or questions I had.”

But two of Cody’s goals conflicted with each other. In order to go on a mission, he would have to resign from the academy after his first year—there was no such thing as a leave of absence for a mission. If he left, he was probably out of the program. To get back in, he would have to be renominated, and the mere fact of his resignation might work against him. What were the odds?

The preparations continued. Cody ran four or five miles each night to condition himself. As a junior, he spent one whole day taking college entrance exams, including the ACT (American College Test), SAT (Scholastic Aptitude Test), an Air Force engineering aptitude examination, and a physical fitness test. He was also interviewed and appraised for leadership potential.

The first year at the academy wasn’t spent just waiting for a mission call. “It was hard,” he remembers. “After the first four months I started asking, ‘Is this what I want to do in life?’ But then I would think back to the confirmations I had received through the Holy Ghost. I knew I was doing things, as President Kimball says, in their proper season and order, and I prayed, and the plan was reconfirmed. I knew I was right where I should be, and that really helped me.”

As the first year drew to a close, Cody had to reaffirm in his own mind his decision to go on a mission. To survive the toughest year in the academy and then give it all up took a lot of courage. And it might also mean abandoning his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut. “But I had already made the decision to resign eight years earlier. I had no doubt what I was going to do even though I agonized over it.”

In March, during spring break, Cody had his mission interviews with his bishop and stake president. At the end of the summer, following SERE training (survival, evasion, resistance, and escape), he resigned. As with any cadet who asks to leave the academy, he was sent to interviews with several different counselors and officers.

“All of them would grill me at first,” Cody said, “but as soon as I told them my reasons for resigning, their attitude changed. They all expressed their respect for the LDS people they knew, and when I told them I was going to try to come back, which was something of a shock in itself, they said fine.” His written statement included a full explanation of what a mission is and why he wanted to serve.

The officer who had to sign the paper as a witness commented, “I’ve never read anything like that before in my life. Is that really what you believe?”

“I sure do,” Cody replied.

“A lot of them didn’t understand,” Cody explains, “but they accepted. They were feeling something they’d rarely felt before.”

In May Cody received his call to the Switzerland Zurich Mission. He entered the MTC in August. Concentrating on studies was second nature, and obedience was ingrained. “I wanted to use my time wisely because I knew I was paying a price for my mission,” he said.

At first the thought of not being readmitted hung over him, but the time finally came when he stopped worrying and left it in the hands of the Lord. Besides, missionary work presented its own challenges. “For the first six or seven months, I found myself going through the motions. I knew the Church was true and that the work was important, but I didn’t love it as I should. My academy experience came to my aid. I was used to doing difficult things. I worked hard and prayed every day that the work would become a joy instead of a burden. In the course of about a week, the whole thing turned around. Suddenly I was happier; I was working out of desire, not just duty. I knew my mission would be worth it even if I never got accepted back into the academy.”

Then a letter from home told Cody that Ted Parsons, another cadet who had resigned from the academy to serve a mission, had been readmitted! Maybe there was a chance after all!

Cody took the necessary exams at a U.S. military installation. “My mission president gave me a blessing. He told me I had served an honorable mission and that the Lord would help me accomplish what I needed to.”

Shortly after the blessing, Cody had a head-on bicycle collision, shattering his nose on the handlebar. “Qualifications at the academy are stringent. With an impact like that you would normally lose pilot qualification. If I had hit my eye or forehead or even my teeth, it would probably have disqualified me.” Cody is convinced he was protected.

When the test results arrived, they showed a score higher than the first time Cody applied for admission, which was advantageous because the competition was tougher.

“I had done everything I could. I made sure my end of things was in order. I wasn’t expecting the Lord to meet me more than halfway. Then I left it up to him,” Cody said.

Cody was renominated by his senator. His faith had paid off. Two weeks after returning from Switzerland and two years after leaving Colorado Springs, Cody Carr entered the academy once more. His dream of being an astronaut was fully intact, along with his other goals of keeping the commandments, marrying in the temple, and being a lifelong missionary.

I can’t tell if it feels like Christmas or not, Gwen pondered as she crunched her way home from school through the snow-blanketed city park. It seems so different from other years.
Her younger brother Peter walked silently at her side. The playground equipment was covered with snow. It was still and quiet away from the city sounds. The two children slowed their steps; it was a good place for thinking.
Peter stopped walking and said softly, “It feels different this year, doesn’t it? It isn’t an unhappy feeling or anything, just different.“
“Yes,” Gwen agreed. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. You know, it makes me feel kind of important that we’re doing something worthwhile.”
They were remembering the unusual family meeting their father had organized the day after Thanksgiving. At the beginning of the meeting they all sang “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful.” After the opening prayer Dad said, “Children, I want you to tell me what it means to be faithful and what it means to adore Christ, the Lord.”
Peter said he thought that faithful meant to do the right things.
“Yes, Peter,” Dad agreed. “That’s part of it. When we’re faithful, it means we can be trusted to keep our promises and to do our duty.”
“And when you adore Jesus, you love Him,” offered Gwen.
“That’s right, Gwen. It also means that we honor Him.” Then Dad added, “This Christmas I want our family to be among the faithful ones who really come to adore our Savior.”
From behind his chair, Dad pulled out a sheet of white poster board with the outline of a large green Christmas tree drawn on it. There were no lights or ornaments or icicles, just the tree.
“Our prophet,” Dad explained, “has told us to store a year’s supply of food and necessities. Your mother and I feel that it would be wise to spend up to 50 percent of the money we ordinarily spend for Christmas on our year’s supply.”
“What’s percent, Dad?” asked six-year-old Ted.
“I know what percent means,” Gwen said eagerly. “May I tell him?” Dad nodded.
“It means that out of every dollar we have saved for Christmas presents that we would spend up to 50 cents on things for our year’s supply.”
Father smiled his agreement and then in a firm voice challenged, “Can we do that? Can we be faithful ones, by following the wise counsel of our prophet?”
Then he explained about the plain Christmas tree that would be in the place where a gaily decorated one had been on previous Christmases. “The more we are faithful and store food and needed items for our year’s supply, the more decorations we can add to our tree.
“For every five pounds of powdered milk we store, we can draw a light on our tree. We’ll add an ornament for every three pounds of salt. Each loop in a garland will represent any nonfood item we add to our storage.”
“If I buy a box of salt, may I wrap it up?” Ted asked eagerly.
“You can if you want,” laughed Dad.
After the meeting Peter planned to take 25 cents out of each dollar he had saved for Christmas for the year’s supply, but as he thought about it, he decided to give more than that.
Now, as the children started walking again, they continued to mull over in their minds their different Christmas. Nearing the northwest corner of the park where they had to cross a busy city street before the last two blocks home, they heard above the traffic sounds the wailing of a fire engine siren.
Suddenly, Gwen stood still. She gripped Peter’s hand, and he looked up at her questioningly. Down the street an unnatural brightness made a pulsating glow in the sky, and flickering, hideous shadows jerked up and down the outside walls of the apartment buildings.
“Look, Gwen, fire!” Peter cried. “We can’t go down our street!”
On the street, roadblocks had been erected and policemen standing by cars with flashing red and blue lights redirected traffic. Behind the barricades were firetrucks and men with hoses spraying silver streams of water up through the smoke toward the flames.
Despite the panic that made her heart hammer, Gwen made herself move forward, praying silently that she and Peter would find their father and mother and Ted and that they would all be safe.
Suddenly Gwen and Peter heard a voice calling their names. They pushed their way through the crowd that was beginning to gather at the edge of the park, to see where the voice was coming from.
Mom and Ted were across the street calling their names, looking first down the street at the fire, and then over at the park.
“Mom!” the children shouted together. “We’re over here!”
Mom spotted them and waved with relief.
“Wait there!” she called.
Once across the street Mom wrapped her arms around them tightly.
“When we couldn’t find you,” she said, “we became worried. Fire broke out on the third floor of the building facing ours. Dad is helping to evacuate the buildings in the area. We can’t go home until the fire is out and the danger is past.”
Their own apartment was not damaged, but the next four days until Christmas Eve were not days filled with the usual Christmas shopping, package wrapping, and cookie baking. They were busy days of sharing their home and food with friends and strangers.
On Christmas Eve the family all dressed in winter coats, caps, and scarves. Everyone had an armload of Christmas gifts, food storage items, and personal Christmas gifts. These were all being given away to someone else in need.
“Before we leave,” Dad said in a husky voice, “I want everyone to look at our Christmas tree.”
The tree had a few lights, two short paper chains, but there were lots of ornaments. “The tree doesn’t look very grand, does it?” Peter asked.
“To me,” his mother answered, “it’s beautiful.”
“This is the best tree we have ever had. It deserves a real star decoration,” Dad said as he held up a star made of sparkling silver and gold. “Ted, you may put it on.”
The family was hushed, and tears glistened in Mom’s eyes as Ted crowned their Christmas tree with a star. Then, with the wondrous spirit of their different Christmas, they left on their Christmas rounds of caroling and giving gifts.
In the back seat of the car Gwen whispered to Peter, “Remember the song? The thing that’s different about this Christmas is that it really is joyful.”
“If you ask me,” Peter said quietly, “it’s triumphant too.”

When we face serious challenges, sometimes we find it difficult to trust in the Lord. But trusting in Him brings us the hope we need in order to face our challenges.

That’s what happened with members of the Gatrell family, who live in Sister Jean A. Stevens’s ward. Sister Stevens, first counselor in the Primary general presidency, said the family held tight to the gospel and to their temple covenants after Brother Gatrell was diagnosed with cancer. Doing so gave them hope in God’s promises that they would be together again after this life.

Through the difficult days before her husband passed away, Sister Gatrell said, “I knew the Lord was watching over us. If you trust in the Lord, truly you can overcome any of life’s challenges.”5

The gift of the Atonement gives us the hope of eternal life—something we need when we suffer trials or the death of a loved one.

“Our loving Heavenly Father gave us the gift of His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, as our Savior,” said President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency. “That great gift and blessing of the Atonement of Jesus Christ brings a universal inheritance: the promise of the Resurrection and the possibility of eternal life to all who are born.”6

Yolanda Elsie Díaz de Vega of the Jardines Ward, Guadalajara México Reforma Stake, recalls staying up late to study the gospel with her husband after they were baptized in 1979: “It was as though we hungered for the scriptures.” But after seven months as a member of the Church, she felt that she was criticized unfairly by an older member and that she could not go to the next meeting. For four years the Vegas did not go to church—until concern for the blessings their family was missing led them back.

The Vegas have been active for many years now, sharing strength with their family, their ward, and their neighbors. There have been great blessings in learning how to be a better couple and in serving others, Brother Vega says. The gospel “changed our way of thinking, our way of living.” Their children have grown up learning and living the gospel, and now grandchildren are enjoying the same spiritual opportunities through Church activity. “I’m proud of our children because we’ve never had to worry about people knowing we are members of the Church,” Sister Vega says. Their four children respond that they live the way they do because of parental example.

At the Whitmer farm, Joseph translated rapidly, but some days were challenging. His mind would wander to other matters, and he could not focus on spiritual things.23 The Whitmers’ small house was always busy and full of distractions. Moving there had meant giving up the relative privacy he and Emma had enjoyed in Harmony.
One morning, as he was getting ready to translate, Joseph became upset with Emma. Later, when he joined Oliver and David in the upstairs room where they worked, he could not translate a syllable.
He left the room and walked outside to the orchard. He stayed away for about an hour, praying. When he came back, he apologized to Emma and asked for forgiveness. He then went back to translating as usual.24

I have to admit, summer came as a much-anticipated relief for me this year. I don’t hate school. In fact, I usually love school. But my sophomore year of high school was harder than I’d ever imagined.
The homework load grew and grew all year. The classes were hard, and all of the extra activities that come with high school were making it difficult for me to find time for everything. It stressed me out, and I was always busy. I felt like I never had time to have fun anymore or to see my friends. I felt lonely and depressed.
One night, I got home from babysitting, and I felt overwhelmed. I couldn’t stop crying. I pulled out my patriarchal blessing. As I read through it, a phrase caught my eye over and over. My blessing promised me that I would be blessed with peace in my heart as I went through hard times.
Before I could stop myself, the thought entered my mind, “Then how come I don’t feel peace right now?” Immediately the answer came: “Why haven’t you asked for it?”
I knelt down and prayed, pouring my heart out like I’d never done before. As I knelt there before my Father in Heaven, I felt the peace that He had promised swell in my heart. I felt love and peace and hope, and I knew that I could never be alone because He would always be there. He understands perfectly, and I can always turn to Him.
Even though the problems didn’t just go away, my life did get better. I felt more in control and never without help or misunderstood.

One Christmas Eve, I stayed up late into the night finishing a short story for my father. The story was about a young girl who wanted to be an angel in her community’s Christmas nativity. I named the girl Cosette after my father’s sister, who had passed away earlier in the year.
The next morning I got to watch the soft expression on my father’s face and see the tears shine in his eyes as he read what I had written. I can still remember the feeling when he finished and looked up at me. His quiet and simple “thank you” was the best gift I received that Christmas morning. It helped me see how our Heavenly Father and our Savior must feel when we gratefully receive the blessings They send us every day.
—Julia Woodbury

At some time in life almost everyone yearns to travel to a faraway country and meet people of another culture, another language, and another way of life.
For the following Latter-day Saint youths this dream became a reality when they spent several months studying in Europe. Here is a report on what this experience meant to them:
Lee Vanhille, 23, from Palo Alto, California: “The impression I had of Spain before I left home was the standard one—flamenco dancers and castanets—but that is a very small part of Spain. There are wide, open flatlands, mountains, beaches, castles, cathedrals—everything, including bagpipes in the north.
“I enjoyed the young people in Spain better than those anywhere else we traveled. I found them very open and willing to talk. They were nice, clean-cut kids.
“I really enjoyed the experience of studying Spanish literature and then seeing what I was reading about. It’s like seeing poetry come to life.”
Jana Christensen, 19, from Alpine, Utah: “I was in southern Spain and it was very hot, but the beaches were beautiful. And, oh, the Mediterranean! Spain is such a beautiful country!
“The people were the most loving I’ve ever met in my whole life. For instance, I was waiting for the bus one night, in a pouring rain, and I didn’t have a coat on. It was miserable! An older lady was standing at the bus stop, and we began conversing in Spanish. When the bus came, we talked all the way to my stop. To get up and leave her was the hardest thing to do. It was just as if I had known her forever. I said, ‘Adiós. Buena suerta.’ (Goodbye. Good luck.) She reached up, hugged me, and kissed me on both cheeks. After I got off the bus and glanced back, she was still waving good-bye.
“One thing that amazed me about Spanish girls was that whenever they’d be in the mood to do something exciting, they’d go upstairs in the dorms and turn on the record player full blast—that great Spanish music—and they’d get up and dance. They would give it everything they had, really dancing up a storm. They’d do flamenco; they’d clap; they’d sing. Pretty soon I’d go join them, and then we’d all be singing. It was so much fun. I left a lot of copies of the Libro de Mormon around for them when I left.
“The Saints there are great! It was really strengthening to hear the Spanish people bear their testimonies at their branch.
“For me this was a trip of firsts. It was my first time on an airplane, first time on a train, first time in a taxi, first time out of the country, first time in a subway—everything was a first. I appreciated learning more about other people. I am a lot more accepting and tolerant of others than I was. I feel more love for others.”
Tamera Nielsen, 20, from Salt Lake City: “Austria is one of the most beautiful countries in all the world. It fills your heart to go there. The youth of the Church there are very dedicated to the Lord—some of the most dedicated people I’ve ever met. The Austrian people have such enthusiasm for the gospel!
“The country is very green, and the Austrian Alps are really inspiring. The people often take what they call a spaziergang, a kind of nature-appreciation walk.
“Austrian young people like to go to movies. A date is really different in Austria; the young couple meet someplace downtown instead of the boy calling for the girl at her home. I’ve learned a lot about people and about tolerance, and I’ve learned that the Church is truly worldwide.”
Stephen Driggs, 22, from Phoenix, Arizona: “I went on a mission to Germany, so I had a good language background.
“I stayed in Salzburg, where we have an active branch. For an Austrian branch, it has a lot of young people. It’s a very young and growing branch, very enthusiastic.
“The country is terrific! Austria has great culture—things like operas, concerts, and an overwhelming sense of history. It’s a fantastic place to study history because of the things you can see, the buildings you can visit, and the monuments—people and places that were influential in making history.
“While there, I stayed in a private home. Family life is more formal than in the United States. The relationship between parent and child is quite formal. Dinner is always at a particular time, and they usually have cake and coffee in the afternoon. The family are always together for dinner. They served me a lot of coffee substitutes.”
Mark Stoddard, 22, from Auburn, California: “My main intent in traveling was to help myself improve in the French language. I went to Grenoble.
“My father’s in the U.S. Air Force, so I’ve lived in Germany for three years, in England for three years, and a little while in Taiwan and Australia, but I found Grenoble to be an interesting city, bigger than I thought it would be. I thought it would be a small village but it’s not. There are mountains completely encircling it, and it’s situated right in the middle of the whole valley. There are apartments after apartments—thousands of apartments.
“I found that the French people behaved much differently toward me than they had when I visited there before. Now I was learning the language. When you won’t try to speak their language, they won’t spend much time with you. If you make an attempt, they are extremely hospitable. I went into a patisserie one day—that’s a place where they sell beautiful, delicious pastries. They bent over backwards trying to help me with the language, just because I was trying.
“In my travels I have found that when you find other members of the Church, it doesn’t matter whether you are French, Italian, German, Australian, or whatever, there is no difference except that we speak different languages. I kept thinking of Ephesians, where it says that the reason we have the Church is to bring us to a unity of the faith. The French people are great. I really grew to appreciate them.”
Judy Harrison, 21, from Ogden, Utah: “I went to Grenoble because I’m a French major and I wanted to learn the language. My family and I lived in Japan from 1960 to 1962.
“Lots of people have said that the French really don’t have a distinct culture. As I traveled through Europe, I would see the Austrians with their dirndls, the Germans with their dirndls and lodens, and the Spaniards with their ponchos—they all seemed to have a definite symbol for their country. It took me quite a while to find the symbol of the French. There just aren’t any people like the French. They are small, dark, slender, excitable—a truly unusual people. Anyway, I finally decided it was the French personality that was France’s symbol.
“Meeting the people and showing them friendship brings them alive. I found that out well when one lady in Marseilles took time to help me. I was buying santons (dolls used in nativity scenes), and she took time to set out all of her dolls, taking them from the window, lining them up, and explaining the history behind each one of them. I was really impressed.
“I attended the comife de patronage (school for foreign students). The teacher was a dynamic French woman, Madame Bonneville. I loved to watch her talk; she used her hands so expressively.
“Before I went to France, I wasn’t up on current affairs. I went to school and to church and enjoyed life the way it was, and I didn’t know what was happening in other countries. But I soon found out that in France you can’t do that. You’ve got to face problems and find out what’s happening and see what you can do. I’ve suddenly been confronted with many problems that I have always ignored before. It’s changed my whole outlook on life.
“I’ve learned something else. Americans tend to be a little overconfident and to go around speaking English all the time, expecting others to understand them. But most Europeans speak two or three languages. How many of us can do that?”

Seventeen-year-old computer whiz Doug Johnson is clicking away at a keyboard. His eyes are scanning a blur of codes that flicker across the computer screen. Doug begins to talk, but the clicking continues. His hands have a life of their own. They move from the mouse to the keyboard and back again with hypnotic speed.
“The computer won’t do anything you don’t tell it to,” says Doug, a high school senior in Houston, Texas, who is making a name for himself in the field of computer programming. “I find a lot of people are actually scared of the machines.” He stops working for a moment, thinks about that, then resumes clicking.
Sitting at the computer, this quiet young man has probably never been afraid. He faces each project like he faces life—by keeping long-range goals in mind and sticking to what he knows is right. It’s a policy that has given him success in the business side of computers, and in the other aspects of his world.
On the business side of things Doug has done very well. His expertise on the computer has made him somewhat of a celebrity in Houston. Local TV stations and newspapers find this young man appealing. Doug is good news, and his story is intriguing.
He began working as a computer programmer for area businesses when he was only 14. At that same age he started writing his own intricate telecommunications software (it allows computers anywhere in the world to share information). The program has sold through mail-order around the country and is now being considered by a national publisher.
Doug doesn’t mind the publicity his computer skill brings, but the stories usually tag him as a genius, and Doug says he’s not that.
“They blow it out of proportion. I’m not a computer genius. I was able to get to this point in my life much earlier than most people because I grew up with computers and I’ve had the experience. I’m a pretty simple person. The only unique thing is I have this adult programmer trapped inside.”
That adult programmer began emerging at an early age. According to his mother, Marian, Doug learned how to use a screwdriver at two and started taking apart anything he could get his hands on. “Including an attempt at his dad’s car,” Marian said. “The problem was he couldn’t always put the things he took apart back together.”
By five Doug put down the screwdriver in favor of the Johnson’s home computer. His father, Lynn, also a computer programmer, showed him how to get going, but Doug needed little direction. Over the years Lynn kept his eye on his son and began to show him how he could use his interest and talent. Doug’s first job in programming was with his dad. When he was 12, Doug wrote a complex system for a major law firm while his dad installed the computer hardware.
At 14 Doug was writing his own software and had formed his own computer company, Maximum Output Software, to market and sell his products. At an age when most young people are only thinking about getting a part-time job, Doug was writing his own software and doing programming work for engineering and shipping/receiving firms.
One of his clients, Angelo Mourino, the owner of a Houston air freight company, said he hired three other professional, adult programmers before Doug. None of them could do the job he needed. Word had surfaced about this 14-year-old whiz kid. Angelo said he was skeptical, but ready to try anything.
“One guy I had hired before Doug had taken six months just to figure out he couldn’t do the job,” Angelo said. “Doug finished the project in about two or three weeks.” While going to high school!
At 17 Doug has a long list of credits behind him which include captaining his high school computer team to top awards in state competitions, serving as the president of a prominent Houston computer club (Doug is also the youngest of the 100-plus members), maintaining a 4.0 GPA in his schoolwork. The list goes on.
But, as Doug is quick to point out, there’s more to him than computers and an aptitude at schoolwork. He’s just a normal LDS kid and with normal outside interests. He’s working on his Eagle Scout Award. He likes music and works occasionally as a deejay at stake dances in Houston and, with a friend, writes funny rap songs about the Church. He has attended early-morning seminary for three years and will graduate this spring.
And he has some normal 17-year-old challenges. He’s shy and has trouble meeting people; he’s shorter than average and isn’t too good in sports; and, believe it or not, he’s a procrastinator.
But he faces those challenges, and others, like he faces the computer—by again keeping his goals in mind and doing what he knows is right. When friends invite him to drinking parties, he turns the invitations down and explains why he doesn’t want to go. When he is asked tough questions about his religion, Doug answers with faith and a solid understanding of the scriptures he has gained through church and seminary study. If people try to get him to use his computer knowledge for illegal gain, he refuses without hesitation.
He thanks his family and the Church for keeping him on the right path.
“The gospel has kept me away from drugs and alcohol, but it has also given me a direction. When I leave home I know how I should live, how I should raise a family. The computer can’t be everything. I’d like to be successful at it, but I won’t ever do anything illegal.”
Brent Rawson, Doug’s bishop in the Champion’s Ward of the Cypress Texas Stake, said he recently called Doug as the ward computer specialist and had him devise a computer program that would allow the bishopric to keep track of members, ward callings (and how long each person has been serving), home and visiting teaching, who spoke in sacrament meeting (and when), and so on. Bishop Rawson can now review, within seconds, any detail of his ward’s business.
“He has been a big help to me,” Bishop Rawson said. “A calling like this needs great maturity and he has that, along with lots of leadership ability. From a bishop’s point of view he is a very spiritual young man with a lot of potential.”
Also, Doug’s computer skills have helped him in other aspects of his Church development. Half of all his earnings go into savings for his mission and for four years at Brigham Young University, where he plans to further his computer programming studies. Plus, Doug hopes that his computer company will one day be productive enough to allow him to support a family.
The clicking has stopped. Whatever Doug was working on is finished. He shows you what he’s created, but his manner is matter-of-fact. After all, as Doug will tell you, it doesn’t take a genius to do this. The computer does what it’s told. Doug tries to do the same—live the principles he’s been taught, do what his parents and church leaders advise.
As Doug Johnson will tell you—life, and computers, can be simple if you have the right attitude.

The final Saturday, having put the bikes on the train the day before, the weary travelers boarded to return home. There was plenty of room to stretch out and relax, and soon they were snoozers, not bikers.
Somehow, though, when the train finally halted in San Jose and they had to remount their cycles for another seven-mile jaunt to the chapel, they seemed almost eager to be riding once again. Soon they would be home recuperating, sharing a slice of their saga with their families.

One Saturday, soon after school started, Sister Williamsen left Lucy at our place to play while she and Mama went to the store. We were practicing for the circus we had been planning, and Lucy was learning how to ride standing on Bessie’s back so we could be twin riders. Ed was trying to do flips in the haystack, and Georgie was clowning around with Spot. Frank came out of the barn carrying his whip and a cat in each arm.
“Why don’t you do what I tell you?” he scolded. “I’m only going to give you one more chance!”
He put each kitten on one of the steps in his lion taming cage. “Now stay there!” he shouted and cracked his whip. Both cats streaked off through the fence and right in front of Bessie’s nose. The horse reared, and Lucy flew off and hit a fence pole.
“Now look what you’ve done,” I shouted at Frank and ran over to help Lucy get up.
She was lying there still and white, with a red stream of blood trickling down her face. Ed and Frank came running over to see. I was scared, but just then she opened her eyes. “You hit your head,” I told her. “But it’s going to be all right. Let me look at it.”
I found a deep cut on her scalp and tried to stop the bleeding by pushing it together. “It has to be sewed up,” I said. “Go get Papa, Ed. He’s down in the field somewhere. And hurry, she’s bleeding badly.”
Ed jumped on Bessie and galloped off to find Papa.
“Frank,” I said urgently, “go into the house and get the needle and thread and scissors, and a match.”
“You aren’t going to stitch it are you?” he asked fearfully.
“Of course not, but we need to have it all ready for Papa when he gets here.”
He came back with a darning needle and cotton thread.
“Not that kind, dummy! The curved needle and the black silk thread Papa uses on the animals.”
While he was gone I clipped the hair away from the cut. The blood was still oozing out though not as fast as at first. Lucy was pale and silent.
I pinched the wound together, and when Frank came back I instructed him how to sterilize the needle with the match and put the thread through it.
In a little while Ed galloped up. “I can’t find Papa anyplace,” he reported. “He’s not in the corn patch or the garden. Where else shall I look?”
“Maybe he’s fixing the fence. Keep looking, and hurry.”
He was gone a long time and my fingers were cramping from holding the cut together. But every time I released the pressure, it bled some more. Finally I decided I would have to sew it up myself.
“Will it hurt?” Lucy wanted to know.
“Don’t know,” I told her. “Haven’t ever been sewed up. Probably will sting a little.”
I was finishing the last stitch when Papa and Ed rode up. Papa jumped quickly from his horse. “What’s the trouble here?” he asked and took a look at Lucy’s head. “Why it’s stitched up already,” he marveled, examining my work.
“Couldn’t have done a better job myself. You’ll be as good as new,” he told Lucy. “Now why don’t you girls go over by the house and play something quiet until your mamas get home?”
We were sitting on the back steps, cutting out dancing paper dolls holding hands when Mama and Sister Williamsen drove up.
“Get your hat and come along, Lucy,” her mama called from the wagon. “We need to hurry home and get some supper for your daddy.”
“OK,” Lucy said, folding her dolls back together and standing up.
“What’s that white spot on your head?” Sister Williamsen asked.
“Oh, that’s just where I cut off some hair before I sewed her up,” I explained.
“See,” Lucy said and showed her mother the spot.
All the pink had gone out of Sister Williamsen’s face, and I could hear a little gasp and see her lean against Mama.
“Papa says she’ll be as good as new,” I assured her. “It won’t leave hardly any scar at all.”
“Run get Sister Williamsen a drink of water, please, Dora,” Mama directed. “She’s had a shock.” Then she helped her out of the wagon and into a chair on the porch. In a little while she quit shaking and took another look at Lucy’s head. “She could have bled to death if you hadn’t known what to do.”
“Papa would’ve done it, but we couldn’t find him,” I replied.
“You did just fine,” Sister Williamsen said. “And I’m mighty grateful.”
Lucy wore a wide ribbon around her head until her hair grew out. She always had one to match her dress, and I almost wished I had had my head stitched up so I could have pretty hair ribbons like that.

… Across the way on Temple Square block, the foundations of the temple rose above the general level of the surrounding ground and seemed to be an object of interest to nearly all the emigrants, many of whom were permitted to go within the wall, and view it. By and by there were numerous meetings in various groups of people, friends of the emigrants, parents and sweethearts, and perhaps in some instances wives of the teamsters that had returned. There seemed to be an air of cheerfulness in all this meeting of people on the arrival of this large emigrant train of Saints.

Mary and I seemed to be so little part of this excitement and joy, because nobody seemed to come for us. Mary remained concealed under the wagon cover, and I lonesome and heartsick sat upon the tongue of [the] wagon, my chin in my hands and elbows upon my knees, thinking “Zion” was not so much after all, if this was all of it. …

Presently, however, approaching from the west gate, I saw a woman in a red and white plaid shawl. … She seemed to be daintily picking her way, and there was something in the movement of her head as she looked to the right and to the left that seemed familiar to me. The woman was moving in my direction, and the closer she came the stronger the conviction grew upon me that there was my mother. …

I stood until she came nearly parallel to where I sat; then sliding from the tongue of the wagon, I took a few steps, which brought me near to her and, plucking her gown, I said: “Hey Mother,” and she looked down upon my upturned face. Without moving she gazed upon me for some time and at last said, “Is this you, Harry? Where is Polly?” Of course Polly was in the wagon, and I led my mother to where she was hiding, and when mother and daughter met, there was a flood of tears on both sides. At last I joined them, making the trio of the united family. It seemed difficult for our mother to realize that we at last were her children after more than four years of separation, but once in a while, a smile would break through the tears and she seemed to be extremely happy. A neighbor of hers … had driven her from Bountiful to the city to get us children, and it took but a short time to leave the remaining emigrant teams and people to find this wagon and make the start for home, Bountiful.

There was one thing remembered in this reunion, and that was on my part. I felt that I had arrived, that I belonged to somebody, that somebody had an interest in me, and these were the thoughts that were in my mind as I sat in the wagon on the drive home to Bountiful. I had heard incidentally that my mother owned her house, and that, of course, for English people, who among the poorer classes were all renters, meant a great deal to me. Now I was going to my mother’s home—her own house.