Gospel Story Finder

Flora received another life-changing phone call from her husband on November 24, 1952. This time he was visiting the Washington, D.C., area, and she was at their home in Salt Lake City. Dwight D. Eisenhower, who would soon begin his service as president of the United States, had just asked Elder Benson to serve as his secretary of agriculture, a high-ranking position that would require great sacrifice and dedication. Elder Benson accepted the position, having been counseled to do so by the President of the Church, David O. McKay (1873–1970).
When Elder Benson told Flora that President-Elect Eisenhower had offered him a position and that he had accepted, she replied, “I knew he would. And I knew you would accept.” She acknowledged that it would be difficult for the family but added, “It seems to be God’s will.”12

“Generally, I will start with the trip. It was the longest that I have ever been on and the most uncomfortable, but it was a new experience for me.
“Aside from that, getting to Abia State, where the temple is and getting to the apartment gave me relief. I really appreciated the idea of all the sisters staying together because it gave me the opportunity to create friendships with those that I never thought I would talk to.
“Visiting the temple itself was a whole different experience. The temple was beautiful, comforting, and welcoming. My favorite part of the temple experience was when I went to perform baptisms for the dead. That was the best experience for me personally. I was skeptical about it at first because I did not exactly know what it felt like. But once I went into the water and started the process, it felt really nice. It gave me a comforting feeling that I wanted to keep going.
“I was happy that I was able to perform this ordinance on behalf of someone. I love this temple trip because it brought us together and made us feel united. This experience was very nice and if I am given the chance to go to the temple, I would love to go again. I am very happy for the opportunity I had to go to the temple.”
– Emmanuel Erina Esonazi, Jos Branch, Jos Nigeria District

For the past 20 months, our family has been blessed with the privilege of having a very special baby.
Little Paxton, our grandson, was born with a very rare chromosomal deletion, a genetic disorder that distinguishes him, literally, as one in hundreds of millions. For our daughter and her husband, an uncharted, life-changing journey began when Paxton was born. This experience has become a crucible for learning special lessons tied to the eternities.
Shortly after precious Paxton was born, we knew Heavenly Father would bless us and teach us special lessons. As his father and I put our fingers on his tiny head in the first of many priesthood blessings, the words came into my mind from the ninth chapter of John: “That the works of God should be made manifest in him.”
God’s works are definitely being made manifest through Paxton.
We are learning patience, faith, and gratitude through the balm of service, endless hours of intense emotions, tears of empathy, and the prayers and expressions of love for dear ones in need, especially Paxton and his parents.
As described in Mosiah, we have witnessed the Savior’s pure love given to Paxton’s family, which love is available to all: “And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.”

I wasn’t exactly nervous to join elders quorum because I felt like I knew what to expect. I also knew everyone in my ward’s elders quorum. They were my friends’ dads and men I already looked up to as mentors. I knew they were happy to help me understand things, so it wasn’t nerve-racking to join them in elders quorum.
What was a little nerve-racking was contributing to the lessons. At first it was hard to think that I could offer anything to men who had so much more life experience and so much more wisdom than I did.
Elders quorum is definitely different from priests quorum. Instead of a bunch of guys your age, you’re suddenly with adults. The first couple times I went, I didn’t really say anything. I worried that I was too young and didn’t know enough to contribute.
But the more I’ve been going, the more comfortable I’ve become, and the more I’ve come to realize that no matter how old you are, everybody has something to contribute. Everyone has different experiences with the gospel and everyone has different levels of understanding of different principles.
One time we were talking about the Savior’s Atonement, and I raised my hand. I just told how thanks to His Atonement, Jesus Christ not only frees us but can also help us become closer to Himself and to God. I talked about my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and how it has been strengthened as my understanding of the Atonement has grown. After class, a man came up to me and thanked me for my comments. He told me he had never thought about things the way I had said them and really appreciated my insight.
In elders quorum, you don’t just learn from a teacher; you also learn from the Spirit and everyone else in the quorum. All that perspective helps you gain greater insight into the things that you are taught. And that helps you be a better servant of the Lord. For example, since I’ve become an elder, I’ve started liking ministering a lot more! I think I take it a little more seriously because I know that when I’m a missionary in a few months, I’ll be visiting people and sharing gospel messages with them just like I do when I minister. Instead of just sitting there and letting my companion do all the teaching, I’ve started preparing for our visits. I make sure to speak up. I know it’s good preparation for my mission, but it has also made ministering more meaningful to me. I now have a greater appreciation for the people in my ward and the people I minister to.
You don’t need to be intimidated by elders quorum, but you can definitely look forward to hear more wisdom about the topics you’re learning about. You can look forward to becoming a better teacher, leader, and servant of the Lord. And that is so cool!

This was an issue with my great-great-grandfather Phineas Wolcott Cook. He was born in 1820 in Connecticut. In his diary he notes that he had made a covenant with the Lord to serve Him if he could find the right way. He attended many churches and at one was asked to “testify [and] join the church [and] be a Christian.” His response was he “could not tell which one to join, there were so many.” He continued to investigate several churches. One doctrine was of particular significance to him. He explained: “Sometimes they found fault with me because I wanted a more liberal salvation for the family of man. I could not believe the Lord had made a part to be saved and a great part to be damned to all eternity.”13 Because of this doctrine, he allowed his name to be taken off the records of one Protestant religion. When the LDS missionaries taught him the true doctrine of the plan of salvation in 1844, he was baptized.

Since publishing her book, Mirror, Ana Carolina has appeared on television talk shows, has been featured in newspaper and magazine articles and has held public autograph sessions. She has been compared to several well-known Brazilian poets whose talents also were discovered when they were children. All this sudden success has caused some concern for her parents. But how does Ana Carolina feel about becoming famous? “My life is going to change only a little,” she says with confidence.

When Damien walked into the park, he heard happy music playing. His grandmother was taking him and his little sister, Adele, to ride his favorite carousel. It had a fun game with rings. Damien was excited to show Adele how to play.
Soon they were in line. The carousel was big and colorful, with lots of carved ponies. Smiling kids sat on the ponies and waved as they rode around and around.
“If you pick a pony on the edge, you can play the ring game!” Damien told Adele. “See the sticks the kids are holding? And see the man with the rings?”
Damien pointed to the worker. He stood near the carousel holding out a ring. As they rode by on the carousel, the children tried to put their stick through the ring to catch it. Each time they caught a ring, the worker held out a new one.
Adele clapped her hands. “I want to catch all the rings!” she said.
At last they reached the front of the line. But there was only one more horse left on the carousel.
“Damien,” Grand-mère said, “why don’t we let Adele take this last spot since she’s never ridden it before? You can ride on the next turn.”
“All right,” Damien muttered. He watched the worker help Adele onto the shiny brown pony. Then the worker handed Adele a stick to catch rings.
The music began, and the carousel started to turn. Damien watched Adele from the side with Grand-mère. But Adele was holding the stick backwards! Instead of holding the stick by the big handle, she held it by the long, skinny end used to catch the rings.
“Adele, turn your stick around!” he yelled. But Adele didn’t seem to hear him over the noise. When she passed the ring, her stick tapped it. But the handle was too big to fit inside the ring.
“Adele, your stick!” Damien tried again. “You won’t be able to catch rings if you hold it like that!”
But Adele didn’t hear him. She just smiled and laughed as the carousel spun. Her stick tapped the ring again and again. She didn’t catch a single one.
Damien groaned. Adele was wasting her turn! If he were on the carousel, he would catch all the rings.
When the ride ended, he ran up to Adele.
“I told you how to hold the stick!” he shouted. “Why didn’t you listen to me? You did it all wrong!”
Adele didn’t yell back at Damien. She didn’t cry. She just stood there and looked small, small, small.
Damien’s heart pounded, and his face felt hot. It made him angry to watch Adele miss all those rings! But it was only her first time. Besides, she’d looked like she was having fun. Until now.
Damien felt terrible. He wished he hadn’t yelled at Adele.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That wasn’t nice of me.”
Adele looked up.
“How about if I give you some tips for catching rings?” Damien said. “I’ll sit next to you on the carousel and help you.”
Adele nodded her head.
Then Damien turned to Grand-mère. “May we have two tickets so Adele can try again?”
Grand-mère smiled. “Of course.”
This story took place in France.
Illustrations by Violet Lemay

I thought I would never forget these feelings, but the pull of the world is strong and we tend to slip. But God continues to love us.

Several months after I regained my strength, we were caught in another violent storm, only this time at sea. The waves became so big they flipped our small boat over, throwing the three of us into the raging, churning ocean. When I found myself in the middle of a tumultuous sea, I was surprised, scared, and a little upset. “Why has this happened?” I thought. “I’m a missionary. Where is my protection? Missionaries aren’t supposed to swim.”

But swim I must if I wished to stay alive. Every time I complained, I found myself underwater, so it didn’t take long to quit complaining. Things are how they are, and complaining doesn’t help. I needed every ounce of energy to keep my head above water and make it to shore. Having earned my Eagle Scout Award, I was a pretty confident swimmer, but over time the wind and the waves began to sap my strength. I never quit trying, but there came a time when my muscles simply would move no more.

I had a prayer in my heart, but still I began to sink. As I was going down for what could have been the last time, the Lord infused into my mind and heart a deep feeling of love for a very special person. It was as though I could see and hear her. Even though she was 8,000 miles away, the power of that love came rushing across those miles and, penetrating time and space, reached down and pulled me up—lifted me from the depths of darkness, despair, and death and brought me up to light and life and hope. With a sudden burst of energy I made it to shore, where I found my shipmates. Never underestimate the power of true love, for it knows no barriers.

Just after 2:00 a.m. on October 26, 2003, Daniel Olsen, 17, hears his mother telling him that a wildfire is less than a mile away. “I jumped out of bed, but the power was out, so I couldn’t find my shoes,” he remembers. “My younger sister, Kelli, yelled, ‘What good are shoes if you’re dead?’” He grabbed his gym bag and ran out of the house barefoot.
Outside, Daniel can smell the smoke, see the oak trees silhouetted against the orange sky, and feel the ash in 50-mile-per-hour (80-km-hr.) winds swirling around him. “We started driving down Wildcat Canyon and said a prayer,” he says. “My mom honked the horn to wake others. I sang, ‘We are as the armies of Helaman’1 as loud as I could. It made me feel better.”
Daniel’s and Matthew’s houses were among the 2,232 lost during 11 days as this fire, named the Cedar Fire, burned more than 280,000 acres (113,300 ha) and killed 14 people, most of whom died in Wildcat Canyon. Twelve other fires were burning at this time in southern California, forcing more than 100,000 people to evacuate.
Daniel and Matthew, like other LDS youth affected by the fires, are emerging stronger as they learn that the gospel eases suffering during a crisis.
“Our relationship with the Savior survives everything,” says Daniel, who found comfort in the words “He that is righteous shall be righteous still; he that is happy shall be happy still” (Morm. 9:14).

“Since you’re friends with us now, you can’t be friends with anyone else,” Jada told me.
“OK,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was friends with the popular girls! I was so lucky! This year was going to be so cool. I could hardly wait to see what popular kids did to be, well, popular.
After school my old friend Aaliyah met me. “Hey, La-Neisha, are you ready?” she asked. We lived on the same street, and normally we walked home together.
I looked around me. I didn’t want Jada to see me talking to Aaliyah.
“No, I don’t want to walk home with you,” I said. Aaliyah looked confused and sad as I turned and walked home alone, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to risk losing my new, popular friends.
That Sunday in Primary, I looked for a place to sit. Aaliyah waved at me. There was an empty seat by her, but I didn’t sit there. Even at church I couldn’t risk sitting by someone who wasn’t popular, I decided. Besides, who needed friends at church? Having the right friends at school was more important.
The next few days, Aaliyah kept asking me to walk home with her, and I kept saying no. Why won’t she leave me alone? I thought. Can’t she see I’m not her friend anymore? I was hanging out with my new friends a lot. Being popular was fun! I tried not to notice Aaliyah at school or church. I told myself she had other friends, so I didn’t have to talk to her.
One night the phone rang. Mom answered it and frowned as she listened.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll talk to her. Thanks for calling.” Mom hung up the phone.
“La-Neisha,” Mom said to me. “That was Aaliyah’s mom. She says you won’t walk home with Aaliyah or even talk to her. Aaliyah is really sad. She doesn’t understand why you keep ignoring her.”
My stomach got tight. I tried to come up with something to say, but I didn’t think Mom would understand how important my new friends were to me.
“I just don’t want to be friends with her anymore,” I said. But I felt guilty. I knew that wasn’t true. I thought of how mean I had been to Aaliyah lately. We used to be good friends. I knew in my heart that the way I was treating Aaliyah was wrong.
On Sunday, Sister Hong gave a lesson on repentance. She said, “If you do something wrong, you need to ask the person you have hurt for forgiveness.” I kept thinking about those words. I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t care what Jada, or any of my popular friends, thought. I was going to talk to Aaliyah and say sorry.
After church I saw Aaliyah. My stomach knotted, but I knew I should ask her for forgiveness. I needed to be kind at school and church—and everywhere in between. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“Hi, Aaliyah,” I said. “Can I talk to you?”
Aaliyah’s face lit up. “Of course.”
The knot in my stomach came undone. Aaliyah didn’t have to forgive me, but I still wanted to ask. Maybe we could start walking home together again. And we could be new, old friends.

My maternal grandfather, Alma Benjamin Larsen, was only 34 years old when he woke up one morning and noticed that he had problems seeing. Shortly thereafter, he lost his sight entirely. Grandfather had served a mission and been a faithful member of the Church. He was a farmer with a wife and three children, and he could not imagine life without sight. Grandfather’s wife and small children now had to bear the extra burdens of helping on the farm, and money became tight.
During this time of physical darkness, many people became instruments in God’s hands to help my blind grandfather. One experience that had a powerful impact on his family happened in 1919. It was a year of great financial difficulty for all the people in Grandfather’s town. Farms were being foreclosed, and businesses were going broke. There was a sizable mortgage on his farm, and Grandfather received a statement saying he would have to pay $195 in order to carry the mortgage over for another year. For him, paying this bill was like demanding a pound of flesh. Nearly everyone was in the same condition, and it seemed impossible to obtain that much money. If he had gathered everything that the farm produced—the horses, cows, and machinery—he could not have sold them for $195. Grandfather asked a neighbor to butcher two or three of his cows, and he sold them and some other products. He had extended credit to his neighbors with the understanding that they would pay at the end of the year, but none of his debtors was able to pay him. The economic situation for his family was bleak.
In his journal, Grandfather recounts: “I shall never forget that cold evening, just before Christmas of 1919. It looked as though we would lose the farm. My daughter, Gladys, laid a slip of paper in my hand and said, ‘This came in the mail today.’ I took it to her mother and asked her what it was. This is what my wife read to me, ‘Dear Brother Larsen, I’ve had you on my mind all day today. I am wondering if you are in financial trouble. If you are, I have $200 you may have.’ The letter was signed ‘Jim Drinkwater.’ Jim was a small, crippled man, and he would have been the last man on earth that anyone would have thought had that much money on hand. I went to his house that night and he said, ‘Brother Larsen, I received a wireless message from heaven this morning, and I could not get you off my mind all day. I was sure you were in financial trouble.’ Brother Drinkwater gave me $200 and we sent the $195 to the mortgage company, and with the extra $5 we bought boots and clothes for the children. Santa Claus did come that year.”
My grandfather then goes on to bear his testimony: “The Lord has never let me down. He has touched the hearts of others as He touched the heart of Brother Drinkwater. I bear witness that the only safety and security that I have ever found has come through trying to keep the commandments of the Lord and upholding and sustaining the authorities of this Church.”

Fireworks and firecrackers, brightly colored nativity scenes, and feasts featuring stuffed tamales—that’s Christmas in Guatemala. As a full-time missionary I found the traditions very different from my own traditions in the United States. I was homesick and thought my Christmas would be miserable.
My companion, Sister Anaya, said we would find joy on Christmas by serving others. She suggested that we spend the morning singing at the hospital, and we invited other missionaries to join us.
As we approached the entrance, I watched the people waiting in line to see their loved ones. Their faces were sad, their sandal-clad feet dusty, their clothes faded. We waited with them. When we were finally allowed to enter the building, we walked down narrow halls with flaking green paint and cement floors. The smells of medicines and sickness overwhelmed me.
In the dim light I could see sick patients on beds in a large room with little ventilation or privacy. They lay there, some with bandages, some with IVs, some hooked up to machines to help them breathe. Some moaned quietly. Others slept. I wondered why we had come. Most in our small group of missionaries stood in the doorway, not knowing what to do.
But not Sister Anaya. She went to each bed, greeting those who were sick, asking them how they felt, and wishing them a merry Christmas. Her boldness reminded the rest of us why we had come, and we started to sing Christmas carols, softly at first but more confidently as we continued. Some of the patients smiled, some just lay there and didn’t seem to notice, and some hummed along.
Sister Anaya, singing with a hymnbook in her hand, approached a woman who was wrapped in bandages. The woman began to cry quietly, and my companion lovingly stroked her hair. Through her tears the woman spoke, “You are angels. You are angels.”
I will never forget Sister Anaya’s response. “No, you are not hearing angels,” she replied. “You are hearing Latter-day Saints.”
But I also think of Sister Anaya. I remember her encouraging us to sing at the hospital and how we found joy by spreading joy. I remember her stroking the hair of that sick woman. And I remember that I don’t need to be an angel to serve others. I can serve them as a Latter-day Saint.

As John’s condition worsened, he and I continued our practice of beginning and ending each day with prayers of gratitude. As we did so, we found that grief did not overwhelm us or our posterity. Each one had opportunities to hug Papa and express their love and gratitude for him. We found moments of joy. Peace seeped into the hearts of our posterity and others who visited, strengthening them and softening their grief too.
However, despite the peace that prevailed in our home, watching my vibrant, exceedingly active husband deteriorate and lose 50 pounds in a month was heart-wrenching. Late at night on April 21, John lay in bed. He was surrounded by his children and me. We sensed that his spirit would depart his body at any moment. I lay beside him, holding his hand and whispering words of love and gratitude for our life. I thanked him for the inspiring example he had set as he responded to his afflictions by turning to the Lord in faith and gratitude. I kissed him. Within seconds, he was gone.
After John’s body was taken away, our family sat together in our home. Tears fell from our eyes as we expressed thankfulness that John’s mortal suffering had ended. Words of gratitude spilled from my mouth as I thought of the many tender mercies Heavenly Father had given to us (see 1 Nephi 1:20). God had enabled me to care for John in our home, despite having physical issues myself (which actually necessitated multiple surgeries not long after John died).
As we talked, I was comforted as I expressed thanks for the eternal promises of our temple covenants (see Doctrine and Covenants 132:19–20). I told my children I felt like Johnny was hugging me, confirming what I was saying as I expressed gratitude. What a joyous feeling! I reminded my family of President Russell M. Nelson’s words in November 2020: “Practicing gratitude may not prevent us from experiencing sorrow, anger, or pain, but it can help us look forward with hope.”1
Suddenly, I felt a heavenly embrace so strongly that it filled me with awe. I also felt that John was well and happy and that I should be too. Right then, I promised myself—and my sweetheart—that I would be.

by Mike Kawasaki
The Young Men and Young Women presidencies with the Activities Committee of the Oak Hills 4th Ward, Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake, had planned a formal dinner-dance for the Mutual-age youth.
The dinner-dance was to prepare the youth to learn spiritual responsibilities and etiquette without the peer pressures of dating.
In preparation for the activity, we had a fireside with the speaker stressing that the youth develop a style of their own. A second fireside was held to learn manners, with volunteers offering to demonstrate their knowledge of table manners. The leader gently corrected or complimented as individuals demonstrated their knowledge of correct table etiquette. Details from avoiding chewing gum to how to butter bread were reviewed.
The evening of the dinner-dance arrived. The cultural hall was arranged with round tables, each set with fine crystal and china. As the different courses were served, leaders acting as waiters and waitresses were eavesdropping on dinner conversations ranging in subject from braces to seminary classes.
Following dinner, the dance began with partners having been arranged for each dance. One of the young men had programmed his computer to match up dance partners. Each participant was given a computer printout, rolled and tied with a ribbon.
The evening was a tremendous success. “We looked forward to this activity for so long, and it was so much fun. We learned a lot about how to eat at a formal table, and we learned about how to act on dates,” said my daughter Kara when reflecting about the evening.
After thanking their hosts, the young people asked, “Can we do this again next year?” The resounding answer was yes.

In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5

Each day at sunset, I sat on a rock looking out over the Pacific Ocean. I often imagined that on the other side of the water was our Heavenly Father’s temple, near which many of my brothers and sisters were living in happiness. I couldn’t help but weep, remembering the wonderful times I had had with my fellow Saints in the Saigon chapel.
From that day forth, our small branch awakened as if from a deep sleep. A presiding elder was chosen to lead us. We were able to communicate sometimes with the Church and other members through VASAA (Veterans Assisting Saints Abroad Association). I was finally given permission to leave Viet Nam. VASAA had helped to arrange with the Canadian and Vietnamese governments for my exit visa. My oldest son living in Toronto, Ontario, sponsored me.
Less than a year later, in March and April 1988, I was finally able to visit Salt Lake City for ten days and attend general conference. I met many friends, missionaries, and General Authorities. The first time I saw Temple Square I could not help but weep for my blessings. In the Tiger’s Den, it had been my greatest wish to see the temple. At last, I was able to receive my endowment in the Lord’s House.

After President Wilford Woodruff joined the Church he desired to serve a mission.
“I was but a Teacher,” he wrote, “and it is not a Teacher’s office to go abroad and preach. I dared not tell any of the authorities of the Church that I wanted to preach, lest they might think I was seeking for an office” (Leaves from My Journal, Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor Office, 1882, p. 8).
He prayed to the Lord, and without disclosing his desire to any others, he was ordained a priest and sent on a mission. They went to the Arkansas Territory.
He and his companion struggled through a hundred miles of alligator-infested swamps, wet, muddy, and tired. Brother Woodruff developed a sharp pain in his knee and could go no further. His companion left him sitting on a log and went home. Brother Woodruff knelt down in the mud and prayed for help. He was healed and continued his mission alone.
Three days later he arrived in Memphis, Tennessee, weary, hungry, and very muddy. He went to the largest inn and asked for something to eat and for a place to sleep, although he had no money to pay for either.
When the innkeeper found he was a preacher, he laughed and decided to have some fun with him. He offered Brother Woodruff a meal if he would preach to his friends.
A large audience of the rich and fashionable people of Memphis gathered and were quite amused by this mud-stained missionary.
None would sing or pray, so Brother Woodruff did both. He knelt before them and begged the Lord to give him His Spirit and to show him the hearts of the people. And the Spirit came! Brother Woodruff preached with great power. He was able to reveal the secret deeds of those who came to ridicule him.
When he was finished, no one laughed at this humble holder of the Aaronic Priesthood. Thereafter he was treated with kindness (see Leaves from My Journal, pp. 16–18).
He was under the guiding, protecting power of his Aaronic Priesthood. The same power can be with you as well.

Oliver Cowdery did not leave at once upon his assignment. Winter was at hand and the traversing of a thousand miles of snow-covered prairie was no easy task. It was not until the summer of 1833 that the printed sheets for the Book of Commandments were assembled, ready for binding. The work on the old hand press of W. W. Phelps & Co., at Independence, Missouri, had been slow and tedious. Material for book covers was lacking but proved unnecessary. On July 20, 1833, a mob broke into the printing establishment, carried away the press, scattered the type, and burned most of the papers and printed matter. One of the elders working on the publication, upon seeing the mob at the front door, hastily snatched up an armload of the assembled sheets of the Book of Commandments, and finding his way through the rear door, buried them beneath the hay of an old barn. The copies, at least twenty in number, were preserved.

What are you going to spend your Chinese New Year money on?
I’m going to buy a new jump rope.
I’m going to buy candy.
I’m going to buy a new bag.
I’m going to save it.
What should I do with my money?
I know what to do with some of my money first!
The next Sunday …
Thanks for your donation, Chung.
You’re welcome!
It feels good to pay my tithing first. I know it makes Heavenly Father happy.
This story took place in Taiwan. Chinese New Year will be on February 1 next year!

While I was a little boy during the Second World War, my country had been invaded; danger was all around us. My mother taught me a great lesson of trust and unity that I have never forgotten. She alerted me to the perils of war and simply said: “Trust my word and follow me; listen to my voice. If you do so, I will protect you the best I know how.” I simply listened to my mother because I loved her and trusted her.
A little later, school started, and this, for me, was a new bridge to cross. As a preparation for this new experience in my life, leaving the home, my mother told me to listen to my teacher and to be obedient. Again, I trusted my mother’s advice. I decided to be obedient to my teacher and a new code of rules. School therefore became a bridge of knowledge instead of a wall of ignorance.
That lesson of trust and unity was vital to become one with my parents, family members, and teachers. It allowed me later to become one with my Savior by being baptized into His Church. It reminded me as a husband, father, and grandfather to continue to build trust and unity among our family members by keeping the temple covenants. As President Hinckley has stated: “The temple is concerned with things of immortality. It is a bridge between this life and the next” (Stand a Little Taller [2001], 6).
In our day, it is so easy to isolate ourselves by erecting temporal, spiritual, and even family or religious walls. Let us instead build more bridges of faith, of reconciliation, and live by the peace that is given “not as the world giveth” (John 14:27), but by Jesus Christ, the Son of God. He is the bridge of faith unto eternity.
I testify that Jesus is the Christ; I put my trust in Him and in His gospel of salvation to be reunited someday. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.