Gospel Story Finder

Mateo looked at the math problem on the board and quickly wrote it down in his notebook. Math was his favorite subject, so he really wanted to pay attention. But he could barely hear what Mrs. Santos was saying because his friend Daniel was talking.
“Shh! Daniel, I can’t hear!” Mateo whispered. But Daniel kept talking. Finally Mrs. Santos heard him.
“Daniel, you’re interrupting again,” Mrs. Santos said. “You’ve already had a warning. Now you need to give me a ticket.”
Daniel slowly reached into his desk and handed her a red ticket. His shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the floor. Mrs. Santos gave tickets to students who behaved well and followed directions. The students wrote their names on the tickets and put them in a jar each day. But you had to give a ticket back if you misbehaved. Every Friday, Mrs. Santos pulled a ticket out of the jar, and the winner got to choose a prize from the class treasure chest! Daniel had to give a lot of tickets back for talking, so his name wasn’t drawn very often. Mateo felt bad that Daniel was losing another ticket.
At recess Mateo ran out to the field to play football. He saw Daniel standing alone by the swings. He could tell Daniel was crying. Mateo wanted to help him feel better.
“Do you want to play football?” Mateo asked.
Daniel didn’t say anything. Mateo tried to talk to him more, but Daniel just turned away.
“Well, I’ll be at the football field if you change your mind.”
Mateo went to play with his other friends, but he kept thinking about Daniel. Mateo was turning eight and was going to be baptized soon. He wanted to be like Jesus and be a good friend. Was there something he could do to help Daniel not get in trouble?
The next day, the class was reading a story in small groups. But instead of reading, Daniel was tossing his book high into the air.
Mateo tried to stop him. “Daniel, we need to read the book, not play with it.”
Daniel tossed the book again. Mrs. Santos saw it almost hit the ceiling. She walked over to Daniel and held out her hand for a ticket. Daniel reached into his desk. Panic crossed his face as he kept searching.
“Oh no! He must be out of tickets!” Mateo thought. No tickets meant Daniel would have to stay inside for recess. Mateo’s mind started racing. What could he do? Then he had a good thought.
“Daniel,” Mrs. Santos said, “if you don’t have a ticket for me, then—”
Mateo took a deep breath. “May I pay for him, Mrs. Santos?” he asked.
The class went quiet. No one had ever asked her that before. Mateo wasn’t sure what she would say.
Mrs. Santos looked surprised. Then she smiled. “You’re a very good friend. Yes, you may pay Daniel’s ticket for him.” Mateo handed Mrs. Santos one of his tickets.
“Thanks, Mateo,” said Daniel.
“Sure!” said Mateo. “Do you want to read together now?”
Daniel nodded and picked up his book.
As Daniel started reading, Mateo felt warm and happy inside. That good idea had come from the Holy Ghost! Mateo knew that Jesus had wanted him to help Daniel—because He loves Daniel. And Mateo felt Jesus’s love too!

We often talk about teaching our children from the scriptures, but how do we do that?
Several years ago I was teaching our young son about the life and experiences of the brother of Jared. Although the story was very interesting, he was not engaged. I then asked what the story meant to him personally. It means so much when we ask our children, “What does it mean to you?” He said, “You know, it’s not that different from what Joseph Smith did in the grove when he prayed and got an answer.”
I said, “You’re about Joseph’s age. Do you think a prayer like his would be helpful to you?” Suddenly we weren’t talking about a long-ago story in a faraway land. We were talking about our son—about his life, his needs, and the way prayer could help him.

“Now, listen up, guys. This is the last game of the season,” Coach said. “We’re tied for first place with the Grizzlies. If we win today, we’re in first place. We can do it! Just go out there and play the kind of baseball we’ve been playing all season. OK now, let’s go!”
We huddled around the coach, listened to his pep talk, then broke with a big yell—it always gives me gooseflesh.
We were scoreless for the first two innings. Then the other team got two in the bottom of the third and one in the fourth, and it stayed 3–0 through the fifth. We were really down.
But in the sixth inning my dream came true. The Grizzlies pitcher was tiring, though I don’t know why—we certainly hadn’t overworked him—and walked the first batter. Then Tubby hit a line drive for a base hit. Tyler hit a long fly ball to center field, and the guy out in the daisies dropped it. I couldn’t believe it!
So the bases were loaded with no outs, and I was up.
“Stee-rike!”
I pushed my hair back up under the batting helmet and crouched lower.
“Stee-rike two!”
I hadn’t made the strike zone small enough.
“Ball.”
That was better.
“Ball two.”
“Ball three.”
The three-two pitch was on its way. I connected with a crack you could hear two blocks away! The roar from the crowd was like nothing I’d ever heard before. They knew it was a home run before I got to first base. I flew around those bases, almost catching up with Tyler. Thanks at least partly to me, we’d won four to three! We were the Bridgeville Little League champs!

On a cool, misty morning in northeastern Tongatapu, the main island in Tonga, Filimone Tufui Pasi dresses for a day “in the bush”—the Tongan expression referring to working on his farming plot. To get there he will pass through the swampy land surrounding his cinder-block home and then walk beneath the tall coconut trees and among the broad-leaf taro plants.
On this day, however, President Pasi, a counselor in the stake presidency, never makes it to the bush. Members of the Church have come seeking his assistance. A humble man of few words, President Pasi nods quietly, walks back inside his home, and explains the situation to his wife, Ana Malina. She and their daughter will spend this day making tapa cloth to raise money for school and sending the Pasis’ children on missions.
Within a few minutes President Pasi returns to the group, now dressed in a white shirt and tie, prepared to help. The decision will cost him a full day of his livelihood. But the smile of satisfaction on his face, knowing he is doing the Lord’s work, makes up the difference. “I’ve tried to live my life this way,” he says. “I think that’s why the Lord has blessed me so much.”

In a long ago time when men ate only what they grew or hunted and women made clothes from fabrics woven by hand or from animal skins, there lived a boy named Agnon. Agnon lived with his parents and neighbors in a lush and peaceful green valley.
Each day as the sun rose in the sky, Agnon tilled the soil. Each night he ate his bread and broth, then slept with stars quietly shining beyond his window. As Agnon grew, he looked longingly toward the mountains and wondered what was on the other side. There must be more to life than this, he thought. I must go and seek my fortune.
When he told his parents of his decision, his mother kissed him on the cheek and wept. His father nodded sadly, and his friend, Loni, sadly shook his hand.
“Does no one wish me luck and good fortune?” Agnon asked in bewilderment.
“Of course,” his father replied. “We wish those things for you, and we also hope that you return home safely.”
“I will,” Agnon replied with a smile. “And I’m sure I will be the wiser and the richer for having gone.” So saying, the boy wrapped a bearskin in a tight bundle, stuffed his pouch with fruits and vegetables, then waved and set off to seek his fortune. When he reached Loni’s house, he paused at the gate for a moment. Then he continued on his journey.
For many days he climbed the mountain until he came to a great snowfield. He glanced back longingly but could no longer see the lush green valley, so he wrapped his bearskin about his shoulders and trudged on. Finally he came to the end of the snow. Then as he descended the mountain, he saw trees and green fields.
Ah, thought Agnon, this is more like it!
He walked until he came to a wide, well-traveled trail. “Hello!” he called to a woman who carried a bundle upon her head.
But she only glanced at him, pulled her shawl about herself, and hurried on.
“Good day,” he called to a child playing by the trail. “I seek my fortune.”
“There’s none here,” the child replied, then ran indoors.
On and on Agnon walked until nightfall. He was weary and stopped when he came to a fire. As he approached it to warm himself, an old man sprang from some bushes with a knife gleaming in his hand.
“Aha!” he snarled. “You’ll not get my treasure!”
“It was your company I wanted,” Agnon replied, backing away from the fire.
“Build your own fire!” the old man scolded.
Agnon shrugged his shoulders and spread his bearskin on the ground in a nearby grove of trees. In his pocket he carried a flint. With a few quick strokes, he made a fire with some sticks he had gathered. Then, using a snare, he caught a rabbit. As he ate his meal, he saw the shriveled old man cautiously approach his campfire.
“You have food?” the man asked in surprise.
“Indeed,” Agnon replied. “Come, fill your stomach.”
The old man glanced back at his own fire, then hurried to fetch a heavy sack. Dragging it back with him, he came close to Agnon’s fire. Agnon reached to help him with his burden, but the old man growled, “Keep away!”
Agnon sat and watched as the man huddled beside the sack and ate. When the meal was done, he sat back against a tree and slept.
The following morning Agnon awoke with a start. Across the clearing he saw the old man with a finger held to his pursed lips. “Hear that rustling?” the old man asked in a whisper.
Agnon listened to the wind in the trees and nodded his head. “Yes, it is the leaves,” he replied.
“No! It’s bandits sneaking up to steal my treasure!” The man patted his lumpy sack and squinted his eyes. “I am an old man, boy! Too old to carry this treasure anymore, much less defend it.”
“Then leave it,” Agnon replied simply.
“I cannot leave it,” the old man growled. “It means too much to me.”
“More than your life?” Agnon asked.
The man pointed a shaky finger. “I will give it to you who gave me food and could have taken it in the night, but you did not. Yes,” the old man nodded, “you are worthy.”
Agnon could not believe his ears! The old man parting with his treasure! “But what of you?” Agnon asked.
“The bandits will not bother me,” he sighed wearily. “They only seek my treasure. But you are young. Take the sack and be off!”
Agnon lifted the sack to his back, staggering under its weight.
“Go!” the old man shouted. “Run for your life!”
Agnon hurried along the trail, but before he had gone far, he ached with the burden. Can a treasure be worth so much pain? he wondered. Glancing ahead, he saw the snow-topped mountains. If I can get the treasure home, he daydreamed, how proud of me everyone will be.
Slowly, step by painful step, he climbed. Twice he slipped and fell, yet onward he struggled with the fortune upon his back. Ahead he saw another snowfield and shuddered as he remembered his bearskin left in the grove of trees far below.
That night he huddled near his fire and drew close to the sack, but it provided no warmth. Shivering in the cold, he looked about him and saw a ring of wolves with gaping jaws and teeth like daggers. The largest wolf leaped at Agnon, snapping at his legs. Quickly Agnon dodged behind the sack. Ghostly sounds echoed over the mountains as the wolf’s teeth sank into the bundle. He yelped with pain and trotted back into the trees. Other wolves crept closer as Agnon looked at the hole in the treasure sack.
“Why!” Agnon gasped. “The treasure is nothing but colored stones. Pretty to be sure, but not worth all this bother!” Agnon laughed and grabbed a handful of stones and threw them at the wolves. One by one, the wolves yelped and retreated into the forest. Finally the sack was empty and Agnon threw it over his shoulders. “Now it is good for something,” he said with a grim smile. “It will give me a little warmth.”
As Agnon crossed the mountain in the early light of morning, he wondered how long the old man had bent beneath his worthless burden and why. When he reached the valley, he saw his parents and ran to meet them.
“Mother! Father!” he called, his arms open wide.
That day they had a feast, and Loni came to see his friend back from his journey. They all listened as Agnon spoke. “People over the mountains live in fear,” he said. “But truly I have found my fortune.”
“You have?” Loni asked curiously.
“Yes,” Agnon replied thoughtfully. “I found that my fortune was here all the time. It is in the earth and sun that give us food; it is in the house that gives us shelter; and most of all, my treasure is in the faces around me.”
“What is it, Agnon?” Loni whispered.
“It is love, Loni. And no matter what others treasure, if they have no value for each of us, they are worthless. I have come back a wiser person, for none of my treasures are a burden to me, and no one would bother to steal things that are free to all.”

“On the Fourth of July we camped for the day, not entirely to celebrate, but to wash and do mending and various other things that were necessary. We camped in a pretty place near a creek. I was to wash with Phebe’s help. She was only twelve but very energetic. We selected a place quite secluded, close to the creek where we could have plenty of water. Well, we were making the suds foam when a dapper young gentleman from New York, a nephew of our captain, who was on his way to California, discovered us and brought a drink and a large piece of delicious fruitcake which was made to celebrate the Fourth on the plains. A rather embarrassing position, to accept this compliment in the midst of soiled linen and soapsuds. I had not been introduced to him before. However, I accepted the cake and drink with great patriotism, and from that time he often called at our wagon—that is, our wagon yard. Everyone was supposed to honor all the land that was occupied by ox yokes, camp kettles, and everything that goes to make an outfit for traveling. So when any of the young folks called I was as much at home sitting on an ox yoke as if I were sitting in an easy chair in a parlor. Such is life on the plains.”

My husband tells of an experience he had in medical school.
It is very difficult to get into medical school, and as you might guess, freshmen students are committed to work very hard. My husband said he still remembers going to his first examination at the University of Utah Medical School. The honor system was in place. As the professor passed out the examination and left the room, some classmates started to pull out little cheat papers from their pockets and from under their books. “My heart began to pound as I realized how difficult it is to compete with cheaters,” my husband says.
Then a tall, thin student stood up in the back of the room and said, “I left my home and put my wife and three little children in an upstairs apartment to go to medical school. I’ll turn in the first one of you who cheats and YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!” They believed it. Those cheat papers disappeared as fast as they had appeared. That young man set a standard of hard work and cooperation instead of dishonesty. He cared more about character than popularity.
When I heard the name of J. Ballard Washburn to be sustained as a member of the Quorum of Seventy, I remembered he was that medical student. Whether or not J. B. had been called to be a general authority, I realized his name would have been known for good wherever he was. He had developed character!

My sophomore year of high school was really hard for me. I was struggling—I needed to know that someone loved me. We were studying the Book of Mormon in seminary that year. One day, I had to give a devotional thought, and I decided to give one on love. To make a point, I replaced some words in verses 10 and 12 in 1 Nephi 8, which talk about the tree of life and its fruit, but I paid no particular attention to the words I wrote.
The day of my devotional came, and I didn’t want to go to seminary. I had had a really bad morning, and all I wanted to do was feel sorry for myself and stay home. I went anyway and prepared for my devotional. When the time came, I read what I had written:
“And it came to pass that I beheld [God’s love, and it] was desirable to make one happy.
“And as I partook of the fruit thereof it filled my soul with exceedingly great joy; wherefore, I began to be desirous that my family should partake of it also; for I knew that it was desirable above all other fruit.”
As I read those words, the Spirit testified to me that they were true, and I was overcome with tears. The spirit of love and peace was so great! He really is aware of our problems, and He will help us through them. I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, and Their love is greater than any other! Anytime I feel like I need a boost and need to feel Their love, I just read this scripture, and it helps me to remember that I am loved.

The Lord also gave me encouragement in my own learning process about the Sabbath with many small miracles along the way. One remarkable experience I will share with you, hoping that it will encourage you in a similar approach in your life. I was taking that certain class that all majors have at least one of—the one that strikes fear into the heart of every student when even mentioned. We were preparing for the final exam and had been given a study page of terms and questions. At the encouragement of the teacher, we had formed study groups, farmed out research, and shared with each other. But on the day of the test, I still had not covered all the questions. We were told that we would be given two questions that we would write about for 30 minutes each, and one question that we would write about for an hour. Therefore, I needed to be prepared with an hour’s worth of material for every question on the study list. The task was overwhelming!

The morning of the test came, and an hour and a half before the test I was on my knees pleading with the Lord for help to know how to best use that last hour and a half of study time. I told the Lord that I had kept first things first in my life according to my commitments and that I now really needed His help. As I prayed, I looked down the study list lying on the bed in front of me. I was impressed to study one particular question. Every other time I went by that question, I skipped it. Because it was just so big, I thought, “No one with a human bone in his body would ask that question.” I similarly rationalized it again and went on past it. But as I finished the list, nothing else stood out to me. I started down the list again from the top, and when I came to that same question, it really hit me over the head.

“Ray, wake up! That’s the question!” I said to myself. I spent the next hour and a half outlining an answer for that question and then fleshing out the outline from my class notes and from the textbook.

When I arrived at the test site, the teacher announced that he had changed his mind. There would be only one question on the test, and we would need to write two hours on the one question. Well, you can guess which question it was! I was so grateful for the Lord’s guidance. I got a good grade on that test, and an hour and a half earlier I would have flunked it. I knew where that gift came from and why.

Ever since I was a little girl, I loved sports, especially football. I played whenever I could, and I dreamed of competing someday for Argentina in the Olympics or the World Games.
My dreams were shattered one day when I was 15 years old. I had just visited my sick seminary teacher and was riding my bicycle home when two gangs in my neighborhood started shooting at each other. A stray bullet hit me in the back.
When I woke up in the hospital the next day, I learned that I was paralyzed from the waist down.
While I was healing, family and friends would ask me how I was doing. I could see that they all felt bad for me, so I would console them by saying I was OK. Comforting others helped me, but I knew I wouldn’t walk again and had to learn how to live with being paralyzed.
At the time, I had started going to seminary and was becoming active again in the Church. Seminary was the pillar that supported me in coming back and in not getting mad at Heavenly Father over what had happened to me.
In seminary our teacher taught us that when bad things happen, we shouldn’t ask, “Why did this happen to me?” She said the question we should ask is, “What can I learn from this?”
It was hard to keep going and to always be positive, but my seminary teacher’s question gave me a lot of strength. When I lost hope and when doubts filled my mind, I always returned to that question: “What can I learn?” That helped me get up every day, and it carried me when I felt like giving up.

Then, several years later, after I had moved from home, I faced a serious crisis that left me with deep emotional and spiritual pain. Without the necessary faith in Christ to guide me, I felt lost and alone. I had stopped praying sometime earlier and had just recently decided that I would no longer go to church.
Just at that point in my life, my home teachers, Dan and Terry, came by. I was a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been to church that day and had no good excuse for my absence. The Spirit told them that something was seriously wrong, so they persisted in presenting a lesson that seemed to be especially for me. They visited with me for a while, and when it was time for them to go, they offered a powerful prayer. The Spirit lingered after them for a short time, and I felt more hopeful than I had in a long time.
I wanted that Spirit to remain. I gathered up the remnants of my faith and offered a prayer. Because I hadn’t been praying for a while, I had no real hope or expectation of an answer. But as I knelt and prayed, a black cloud lifted, and I felt an overpowering warmth come into my heart. Complete love and understanding filled the room. I was surprised at the depth and strength of the Savior’s love—how well he knew me!
There was no room for misunderstanding or doubt as he lovingly empathized with my challenges. All of a sudden, words came into my mind, telling me where I could improve. And the Savior promised me all the help I would need. I learned that there is indeed a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior, Jesus Christ, and that they know each of us as individuals. I also learned that they will give us the help we need as we extend our faith in them. And I knew that, no matter what, we must always pray.
Although I still had problems to overcome, I knew the Savior was there, ready to help. I have never felt completely alone with my problems since. I can now say, along with the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” And I am grateful.

The Holy Ghost also confirms the truthfulness of the scriptures and prophets. When Sister Flori Cobo de Lumbreras of Cádiz, Spain, read the Book of Mormon, she “had strong desires to ask God if this book was true, if Joseph Smith was truly a prophet, and if God wanted me to join the Church.
“I tossed and turned in bed, disturbed for four or five hours, and finally knelt at the side of my bed and began to raise my voice to my Father. The answer came with great strength to my heart. What joy! What peace! A warm feeling covered me.”

I had a best friend, Chris. We did everything together. But whenever a group of us would gather to do something “crazy,” like throw snowballs at cars or toilet paper a house, Chris would always back out. He said his parents would be mad if they found out.
Then one day I talked Chris into stealing tennis balls from the people on the local courts. He followed me, even helped me gather a handful of balls, then took off with me through a hole in the fence. When we arrived at my house I noticed Chris’s face was white.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We’ve got to take those balls back,” he blurted out.
“No way, they’re ours now,” I replied, but Chris grabbed them and started to run. I’ve always been faster than Chris, but I couldn’t catch him that day. He ran right to the tennis players and gave every ball back. He said he was sorry and then did something I’d never seen before. He asked them for forgiveness. I just knew we were going to be turned into the police, but the men let him go.
When we got home I had a few questions for my best friend.
“I’m a Mormon,” he said.
“I know. You told me.”
“But I didn’t tell you how important my church is to me.” He went on to explain the standards of honesty he had been taught and how he could not feel right about stealing.
Six weeks later I found myself in a font, full of water, ready to be baptized a Latter-day Saint.

That trust has blessed my life and the lives of my family. Years ago I heard President Ezra Taft Benson speak in a conference like this. He counseled us to do all we could to get out of debt and stay out. He mentioned mortgages on houses. He said that it might not be possible, but it would be best if we could pay off all our mortgage debt.
I turned to my wife after the meeting and asked, “Do you think there is any way we could do that?” At first we couldn’t. And then by evening I thought of a property we had acquired in another state. For years we had tried to sell it without success.
But because we trusted God and a few words from the midst of His servant’s message, we placed a phone call Monday morning to the man in San Francisco who had our property listed to sell. I had called him a few weeks before, and he had said then, “We haven’t had anyone show interest in your property for years.”
But on the Monday after conference, I heard an answer that to this day strengthens my trust in God and His servants.
The man on the phone said, “I am surprised by your call. A man came in today inquiring whether he could buy your property.” In amazement I asked, “How much did he offer to pay?” It was a few dollars more than the amount of our mortgage.
A person might say that was only a coincidence. But our mortgage was paid off. And our family still listens for any word in a prophet’s message that might be sent to tell what we should do to find the security and peace God wants for us.

Years later, I felt that same sense of overwhelm again, but in a very different setting. I was a mother of four young children working on my first graduate degree at the University of Hawai’i at M?noa. At one point, I needed to take a Spanish 202 class, even though I hadn’t taken a Spanish class since 2005, and it was 2019. I felt completely overwhelmed. I remember crying about it to my former Spanish language professor, Elaine McArthur. In my discouragement, I told her I didn’t think I could do it. She looked at me and said something that has stayed with me ever since. She said, “You can absolutely do this. But you will need to do what you can with the time you have.”

That simple phrase changed everything for me. Instead of waiting for the perfect amount of time, the perfect level of focus, or the perfect circumstances—I began to just start. Sometimes I only had five minutes. But five minutes mattered. Five minutes made it easier to come back later. Five minutes helped me move forward when I otherwise would have stayed stuck. I have thought about that principle often since then. Sometimes we think that if we cannot do something perfectly or to the fullest extent, it is not worth doing at all. But that is not how the Lord works. “…And thus we see that by small means the Lord can bring about great things”. [2] Sometimes Come, Follow Me looks like a deep and meaningful family discussion. And sometimes it looks like a single verse, read quickly, but sincerely. And that still matters. That is still a spiritual deposit. That still invites the Spirit into our homes and into our lives. Doing what we can with the time we have is not a lesser offering. It is a faithful one.

I took that fateful Spanish language class day by day, and with the help of my profesoras, tutors, and my Spanish-speaking father patiently getting on FaceTime each day, I completed the class with a good grade and increased faith. I have been able to apply that lesson as I worked on a second master's degree, getting my dream job as a librarian and faculty member at BYU–Hawaii, and facing many challenges that have been presented to our family whether we like it or not.

It’s a bit quieter in the early mornings at the Dunlop household in Capalaba, Australia, these days. Oldest brother, Craig, is serving his mission in the Australia Perth Mission.

“He would come out of his bedroom about 5:30 and, bang, he would shut the door. He would bang down the hall,” said his mother, Kathryn. “We miss that, the big bang of the morning.”

The other seven Dunlop children feel there’s a big hole now that Craig is away from home. Nathan, 14, said, “Craig used to mug me and wrestle me to the floor.”

“He would keep us in line and tell us what we should be doing. Have we practiced our sport? Have we done our homework? Have we read our scriptures? Now he does it long distance,” said Melissa, 17.

This is love at home?

Yes, you feel it when each child grins, as they try to tell their favorite story about their brother.

Maybe the Dunlops learned to love each other from the example of their parents, particularly their father, Robert. Right while they’re talking about their family, Dad arrives home after having been away from home all week because of his work. Everyone is so glad to see him.

Leanne explains, “We miss him. When he gets home, we all bolt for the car when he drives up.”

Robert Dunlop tells of a sad experience in his past. “The last time I saw my dad was when I was going to boarding school. He was ill, and he wanted me to give him a kiss good-bye at the station. I was embarrassed and didn’t give him a kiss in front of all the other kids going away to school. It was the last time I ever saw him. I keep telling my own children of that.”

“So we give him kisses all the time,” said Leanne quickly.

But how does a parent let his children know he loves them when things don’t always go smoothly? “After we have an argument, Dad always says, ‘But I still love you,’” Melissa explains. “He always comes back and gives you a hug—always. Even if I am so angry that I think I don’t like him any more, then he comes back with that. He tells us all the time that he loves us.”

And the Dunlops make happy family memories. One of their favorite things to do together is bike riding—their Maleny bike ride. Sarah explains, “Mom and Dad take the older kids right to the top of the hill. Mom will usually drive down with the babies in the car, and the rest of us coast all the way down the mountain. We love that.”

Then the family all starts talking at once about who had bumped into whom and the funny things that happened, like when Sarah ran over a snake and they didn’t tell her because she would freak out.

Love at home? For the Dunlops it is.

When it was time for Father to attend October conference, Mary Ann and Mark were excited. Father had promised they could visit Temple Square with Mother while he attended a special meeting in the Assembly Hall.
Mark and Mary Ann were surprised when Father announced, “Here we are at Temple Square.”
“That’s sure a high wall!” exclaimed Mark.
“Does it go all around the block?” asked Mary Ann.
“Let’s walk around and see,” answered Mother.
As the four of them walked, they discovered that the wall did go all around the block. In each of the four sides of the wall there were beautiful see-through iron gates.
“Oh, Mother!” said Mary Ann. “It’s so pretty. Look at all the beautiful flowers. Flowers are even in boxes on that wall, and the trees are so tall!”
“Look up,” Mark said excitedly. “You can see the angel Moroni on the very top of the temple.”
“While I’m in my meeting, why don’t you three go to the Visitors Center,” Father suggested. “There’s a very special statue there that you’ll want to see.”
Inside the Visitors Center Mother, Mark, and Mary Ann walked up a winding ramp. At the top against a dark blue background of sky and soft rose pink clouds was a beautiful statue of Christ. It was so lovely that Mark and Mary Ann had a quiet reverent feeling as they looked up at the statue and thought about Jesus.
After looking at the beautiful murals of the life of Christ, they stopped to talk about the scene of Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove.
Then they walked down the spiral ramp, and in a few minutes they were outside again.
Mother told them about a large bronze statue that was shaded by a lacy tree branch.
“The man in the center,” she explained, “is John the Baptist. The two young men kneeling are the Prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery. John the Baptist is bestowing the Aaronic Priesthood upon these two men.”
Mother and the children walked down the path toward a large dome-shaped building. “This is the famous Tabernacle,” said Mother.
“It looks like a great big turtle,” said Mary Ann.
“Or half an eggshell,” said Mark.
“Yes, it does,” Mother agreed. “There’s a story about how President Brigham Young received his idea for the shape of the Tabernacle one morning when he was having boiled eggs for breakfast.”
Just then a guide came by with a group of people who were visiting Temple Square.
Mother and the children decided to join the group as they went into the Tabernacle.
The guide pointed out many interesting things about the Tabernacle. He told them that it was over a hundred years old. He showed them the famous organ that could make music soft as a tinkling wind bell or loud as the crash of booming thunder. He pointed out the balcony that formed a giant U shape as it curved around the building. Then he asked everyone to be quiet. A pin was dropped in the front of the big building and the group in the back could hear it hit the floor.
“Now let’s walk over to the campanile,” Mother suggested.
“What’s a campanile?” asked Mary Ann.
“A campanile is a bell tower that is built separate from a church,” replied Mother. “The bell in this campanile is the Nauvoo bell. It was made in England, shipped across the Atlantic Ocean, and hung in the Nauvoo Temple. It was carried across the plains by oxcart. The Relief Society sisters had the campanile built to protect the bell.”
Mother and the children walked past the Assembly Hall with its colorful stained glass windows and its many quaint spires reaching up toward the blue sky.
They stopped to look at the beautiful Sea Gull Monument. Around the base of the monument was a pool of clear water and eight fountains that sent sparkling water spraying into the air, curving umbrella-fashion and splashing back into the pool.
“Right over here is a statue of a handcart family,” Mother told the children as they walked away from the Seagull Monument.
Mark said he thought the father looked strong but tired.
“The mother looks strong too,” said Mary Ann, “but I think she looks worried. Maybe she’s afraid her children will get too tired in the hot sun.”
“It took brave boys and girls to walk across the plains,” said Mother. “But all of the pioneers loved our Heavenly Father and His gospel, so they pushed on and on until they arrived in Salt Lake City. We should always remember our pioneers and be proud of them.”
Past the Bureau of Information, Mark wanted to stop and look at a real pioneer cabin. He caught up with Mary Ann and Mother, who had circled back and were looking up at the beautiful white granite temple with its rounded windows and majestic spires.
They also paused to look at the statues of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother, Patriarch Hyrum Smith.
“I’m glad we could come to Temple Square,” said Mary Ann. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”
By now the sun had set and it was beginning to get dark. Although everyone was tired, they had a special quiet feeling of happiness because of the wonderful things they had seen and learned that day on Temple Square.

The second convert I’d like to mention - Adem Kocaman. Adem saw the tag on a wheelchair that read “LDS Charities.” He researched out LDS and contacted the then Humanitarian Missionary Couple, was taught and baptized. Adem is a young single adult working on his doctorate in Human Genetics. He serves as the First Counselor in the ?stanbul Branch Presidency. He travels every other week to ?stanbul to attend Church all the way from Samsun on the Black Sea where he attends university, a ten hour bus ride each way.

Sydney, Australia newlyweds Oleni and Ana Ngungutau started their life together by praying to know what the Lord had in store for them to learn. Soon after, Oleni was offered a 2-year contract to play rugby for a local club in Griffith, a small town six hours out of Sydney. After much discussion and prayer, they decided to take the offer and the club advanced them wages and bonuses to help the family move and get settled in their new community.
To the couple’s surprise, once the season kicked off, many of the games were scheduled for Sundays. Their first thought was about the club’s help when they arrived. The chairman made it clear that Oleni needed to pay off his debt by playing the games that were scheduled.
Oleni says, “Back when I was playing in Sydney . . . all our rugby games were on Saturdays. This was new to me, and I felt uncomfortable playing on Sundays . . . I felt that I needed to address this concern with my club.”
Not long after that conversation COVID-19 arrived, and the season was cancelled for the year. Oleni felt this was an answer to his prayer, but his contract was extended for two more years so he could play a whole season and clear his debt to the club.
Oleni recalls, “As the new season was approaching in 2021, I advised [the club chairman] that I would not be playing on Sundays and that I would find a way to pay back what I owed. He told me I had two options: ‘play it off’ or ‘pay it off’. I knew without a doubt that the right thing to do was to keep the commandment of the Lord and He would provide a way.”
He contacted his bishop for comfort and counselling and was reassured that his decision was correct. “I called the chairman back and told him that I [was leaving] the club and would pay off my debt. They gave me ten months to do so.”
The Ngungutaus agreed that they would work hard to pay off their debt and serve harder in their callings as seminary teachers. They trusted that if they did their part, the Lord would provide a way.
“After my decision to keep the Sabbath day holy . . .Heavenly Father blessed us in so many ways. Doors were opened and I received a pay raise in my job,” says Oleni. A few months later, Oleni started his own business and was able to pay off the club debt even sooner. The couple could finally move back to Sydney.
That was when Oleni received a call to meet with his stake president, who invited him to serve as bishop of the Griffith Ward, Riverina Stake. “This was a shock,” he recalls. “The drive home was just silent and tearful.” When they arrived, Oleni and Ana knelt in prayer and asked Heavenly Father for comfort.
Oleni remembers: “It was then that the Spirit reassured me that I did not move here from Sydney to play rugby. Heavenly Father brought me here to serve His children and be an instrument in building up His kingdom in this part of His vineyard. Now, we don’t have plans to move back to Sydney but instead plan to serve with all our hearts, might, mind, and strength in this calling. I’ve seen the Lord’s hand in my ministry thus far and have so much love for my ward and this great work.”
“I know my Saviour sacrificed His life for me, and the most I can do in return is strive to be obedient in keeping His commandments. When I fall short, I know I can turn to His Atonement to lift me up and strengthen me to keep pressing forward. Keeping the Sabbath day holy is a blessing. I know as we follow this commandment our lives will be filled with light and wisdom to bless others during the week.”

When I was 20 and in the military, I had a friend named Brent. He was four-years-old. His father, Bob, was an Air Force fighter pilot with 120 missions in Vietnam to his credit. Whenever Brent would not behave as his father wished, his dad would say teasingly, “If you keep doing that you will grow up to be a bomber pilot”—the worst possible curse for a fighter pilot’s son!

That encouraged Brent until he was 15. One day his father tried the old line again and Brent responded, “I don’t care! I’ve never wanted to be a pilot of any kind.”

With wisdom, his father added, “Then be who you will be, but be Christlike as you do it.” The fighter pilot father knew something about the process of working toward perfection, of becoming more like Christ. He was a returned missionary. He had married a worthy young woman in the temple. He had served where called in the Church. He was striving to keep the commandments.

Bob’s closest brush with death was while making a bombing run into North Vietnam in 1966. His F-4 Phantom jet, fully loaded to knock out an important enemy bridge, was shot out of the sky by a ground-based cannon. He got the aircraft turned around and did not eject from the cockpit until the last possible moment. That strategy got him ever closer to the friendly borders of Thailand.

On the ground he ran from the enemy soldiers and their dogs for 36 hours until he was rescued by a helicopter gunship. While running back toward Thailand, he prayed that he would see his young bride and baby again. But, if captured, he would try to be like the Savior. His faith would allow him to exercise courage.

It was never easy for any of them. Bob has worked hard in his service as a stake president. Paul has worked diligently to be a good young father. Mom has dealt with many crises in her life. They all have tried to face their obstacles in a Christlike way. Pain, hurt, and dread have been a part of their lives. It was part of Christ’s life, too!

Bob doesn’t fly jets anymore. He is now serving as a mission president. Paul is now a stake missionary. Mom has never danced professionally, though she has used her musical talents on numerous occasions. She is now serving a full-time mission with her husband. Each has lived a good and faithful life.

My friend, the former four-year-old, is a returned missionary, recently married, and now continuing his education. He did not grow up to that “awful curse” of becoming a bomber pilot. He is growing up wanting to become like the Master.