Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, I arrived home from work and was startled to see white paint splattered everywhere—on the ground, the garage door, and our red-brick house. I inspected the scene more closely and discovered the paint was still wet. A trail of paint led toward the backyard, and so I followed it. There, I found my five-year-old son with a paintbrush in his hand, chasing our dog. Our beautiful black Labrador was splattered almost half white!
“What are you doing?” I asked in an animated voice.
My son stopped, looked at me, looked at the dog, looked at the paintbrush dripping with paint, and said, “I just want him to look like the black-spotted dogs in the movie—you know, the one with 101 Dalmatians.”
I loved our dog. I thought he was perfect, but that day my son had a different idea.
In the first story, our young son had a beautiful dog as a pet; notwithstanding, he grabbed a gallon of paint and, with paintbrush in hand, determined to create his own imagined reality.

Phillis stood on her tiptoes and took a book from the shelf. She sat down in a chair by the window. The pages were very thin, so she turned them carefully.
“Phillis, what are you doing?” asked Miss Mary Wheatley from the doorway.
The little black girl looked up. She hadn’t asked to use the book. Is my mistress angry? she wondered.
But Mary was smiling. “You like books, don’t you, Phillis?” she asked kindly.
The little girl nodded.
Her mistress came over and looked at what Phillis had on her lap. “That’s a book of poems.”
“What are poems?” asked Phillis.
“Words that are put together in a lovely way,” the girl told her.
Just then Nat, Mary’s twin brother, came into the library through another door. “Well, what have we here?” He smiled at the little black girl.
Phillis didn’t say anything. Nathaniel Wheatley wasn’t home very often, and she didn’t know him well.
“We were just talking about books,” his sister told him. “Phillis likes to look at them.”
“Really?” he asked. “Well, Mary, why don’t you teach her to read?”
Mary had hoped her brother would suggest that. He had taught her to read. Not many girls in the 1770s could boast that! She turned to her young servant and asked, “Would you like to learn to read, Phillis?”
The little girl nodded as hard as she could. She looked like a tiny excited bird.
Nat laughed. “You certainly have an eager pupil.” Then he kissed his sister good-bye and set off for downtown Boston to see his father.
“Phillis,” asked her mistress, “would you like to begin today?” Mary was excited too.
“Yes,” answered the little girl in her soft musical voice. “I can hardly wait.”
“Fine,” said Mary. “Some of Mother’s friends are coming to visit in the early afternoon. When they leave, we’ll have our first lesson.”
Phillis closed the book and put it back on the shelf. She knew that it was her job to serve refreshments to the guests.
Soon three ladies were seated in the parlor with Mrs. Wheatley and Mary. Phillis carried a tray into the room. She walked slowly and carefully and didn’t spill anything. She offered the plate of cakes to each woman. Then she poured lemonade into dainty cups. When she left the room, she sat down on a chair outside the door so that she could hear her mistress if she called.
“That girl always seems so cheerful,” she heard one of the ladies say. “My Bertha isn’t like that at all. She never wants to do any work. And when I make her, she grumbles.”
“Phillis is special,” Mrs. Wheatley told the woman. “She’s smart too. A few months ago she had never been away from her African village. And now she speaks good English!”
Phillis felt important when she heard people talk about her that way.
“Today she looks even happier than usual,” another lady said.
Mary smiled. “That’s because we start our lessons this afternoon. I’m going to teach her to read.”
One of the women gasped. “Teach a slave to read? That’s ridiculous! Servants don’t need to read.”
That made Phillis angry. She knew that Mary would tell the woman how wrong she was.
“Well,” said Phillis’s young mistress. “I suppose you’re right.”
The little girl couldn’t believe her ears. She ran up the stairs to her room in the attic, crawled under a dilapidated chair, and hid.
Soon the guests were gone.
“Phillis!” Mary called. “Phillis, you can clear away the dishes now.”
There was no answer. Phillis always came when she was called. Mary began to look for the little girl.
Up in the attic, Phillis heard her mistress. She knew that she might be punished for hiding, but she was so sad that she didn’t care what happened to her.
Finally Mary opened the door to the attic and stepped inside. She saw the edge of Phillis’s dress sticking out from under the chair. Mary pretended not to see her.
“Where could Phillis be?” she said out loud. “I hope she isn’t lost. I’d miss her if she were gone.”
Phillis felt guilty. “Here I am,” she said, crawling out.
“Aha!” cried her mistress. “You aren’t lost after all. You certainly fooled me.” She saw that Phillis wasn’t smiling back at her. “What’s the matter?”
“You told me you’d teach me to read,” she said. “Then that lady said that I didn’t need to learn. And you told her she was right.”
“Goodness!” Mary stooped down and put her hands on Phillis’s shoulders. “I said that she was right that you don’t need to read. But you must have run away before I finished. I told her that a person who wants to read should be able to, even if he doesn’t need to. After all, a lot of people say that girls don’t need to study. But I learn, right along with my brother.”
Phillis opened her eyes wide. “Does that mean you’ll still teach me? You’ll even teach me to read poems?”
“Of course. We’ll start as soon as the dishes are cleared away,” she told the little black girl. “And when you know a few words, I’ll teach you to write them too. Maybe someday you’ll write your very own poems.”
“My very own poems,” said Phillis slowly. She ran out of the attic to finish her work.
Mary smiled as she watched her go. She’s special, she thought. She may be a great woman one day, even if she did come to this country on a slave ship.
Mary Wheatley was right. In the next few years, Phillis learned to read and write English very well. She also studied Latin, ancient history, and mythology. When she was about thirteen, she wrote some poems that were published a few years later. Phillis Wheatley became the first famous black woman writer in America.

One of the important things for Stevo in coming to the United States was to have a chance to attend his church. Each Sunday I’d drive him to his meetings. He told me that many years ago his father had worked in Switzerland for a while. During his stay, his dad met some LDS missionaries. He read a book called the Book of Mormon and had been converted to the Church. Stevo called it The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, “nickelnamed” the Mormons.

Three hours after dropping him off I’d pick him up. He always had a group of young kids around him as I pulled into the parking lot. He seemed to like everyone, including me. Even after the rotten trick I pulled on him.

I played “the trick” the evening before school started. The principal, Mr. Sajack, telephoned and asked Stevo to have a short talk ready for the opening assembly. Stevo went to my room and prepared it. Later he read it to me and asked what I thought. I told him that in this part of America we had a special pronunciation for the name of his country and the natives of his land. He took notes.

The next day in the assembly he introduced himself, told them his “nickelname” and then said, “I come from the Sloback Republic and my people are known as Slobs.” Half the auditorium teetered in embarrassment and the other half rolled in the aisles. He just smiled as if it was okay and continued to talk.

Later that day in English class Mrs. Cartwright asked him who helped him with the pronunciation of the name of his country. Then she glanced over at me. Stevo asked, “Why?” When she told him what a “slob” was I thought he would really be mad. All he did, though, was run a hand through that black hair, grin, and say “That was funny joke, heh?”

One night, three weeks after his arrival, I asked him if he had a girlfriend back home. I was curious—and maybe a little jealous. He was quite homely, yet after only three weeks he knew more people at Edgemont High than I did after three years; it seemed like a crowd of girls followed him wherever he went.

Smiling, he said, “No. No one especial, but I have many friends that are girls. The leader of my church, the prophet, once say not to go steady until ready to marry. I pray every night for the Lord to prepare a girl for me to marry after my mission, a girl I can take to the temple.”

Mission? Temple? It sounded like another foreign language. He had me interested, though, so I asked more. His explanation of a mission seemed ludicrous. It was insane for 19-year-old boys to swear off girls, college, and fun for two years to go to some faraway place to share religious beliefs with strangers. I was worried he was going to practice on me, but he just answered my questions.

Then I said, “Stevo, I’m sorry for the dirty trick I played on you when you asked for help on your opening assembly speech.”

“It was a dirty trick, true. But I don’t think you are dirty. I like you, Matt.”

The last week with Stevo in our house passed quickly. The Saturday morning it was time for him to leave you’d have thought someone died. Tim said he was losing his best friend, and Mom dabbed her eyes and said it felt just like when Rodney went away to college, even though he was going only a few miles to his next host family.

As I drove Stevo to his new home, I realized there was something I wanted to say to him. I had been a jerk. Selfish. My own little room, my kingdom, where I could shut the world out and indulge in self-pity, had been so important. So important I almost shut out something that on some level seemed more important than I knew how to explain. I glanced over at Stevo. His large nose pointed straight ahead, serene, knowing exactly where he was going as he continued his journey through life.

I made my decision. I pulled over to the curb and parked under the bough of a large chestnut tree.

“Something is wrong, Matt?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I have a confession to make.” I took a deep breath. “I didn’t like you at all when you came to live with us. And the first time I saw you I didn’t know what I was going to do with you for the next month. You seemed like trouble and a bother. I didn’t even try to hide it. I’m sorry. I was wrong, and I’m going to miss you and our talks.”

“I will miss our talks too, Matt.”

“Stevo, you have something. People always seem to want to be around you. Why? What is your secret?”

“I don’t know any secret, Matt. All I know is from the time I was tiny my mother told me often that if I treated other people as important as I wanted to be treated, then things would always work out. When we found the Church and discovered Christ, it was easy to see that all children of God deserve to be loved.”

“Even people who are trying to kill you?” I asked.

“Them especially. Easy to love those who treat us nice, my father says. Best part is to love those who hate us. That doesn’t mean we try to put ourselves in a place where they can hurt us. We try to understand so we don’t hate them back.”

Then I said, “I wish I had something to remember you by, Stevo. When I am with you, you make me want to be better. I want to change.”

“Matt, can I give you a gift?”

“I guess so.”

Stevo reached into his flight bag and pulled out the Book of Mormon he read nearly every night. He opened it and wrote in it.

I took the book and read what it said. To my best American friend, Matt: To want to change is the first step to be better. This book makes me want change to every day. Perhaps it can do the same for you. Your friend, Stevo.

I set the book down on the seat, put the car in gear, and headed down the street. We drove in silence. When we arrived at our destination, Stevo’s new host family was out front waiting. I helped him with his bags and then did something I had never done before in my life. I gave a guy a hug. Stevo was out of my room, but I knew he would never be out of my life.

I keep Stevo’s book by my bed and read from it often. Mom and Dad wonder why I treat everyone around here better. I even invited Tim to move in with me.

What shocked everyone most, though, was one Sunday several weeks ago I told them I wanted to go to church with Stevo before he returned to his home. That was, however, only part of the truth. The place Stevo goes every Sunday has a spirit of change, and that’s what I want to do. When I grow up, I want to be like Stevo.

Four years ago I spoke in this setting about couples serving full-time missions. My prayer was that “the Holy Ghost [would] touch hearts, and somewhere a spouse … [would] quietly nudge his or her companion, and a moment of truth [—a moment of decision—would] occur.” One sister later wrote me about that experience. She said, “We were sitting in the comfort of our family room enjoying conference on television. … As you spoke, my heart was touched so deeply. I looked over at my husband, and he looked at me. That moment changed my life forever.”
If you are or will soon be the age of a senior missionary, I come to you this afternoon to witness of the blessings that can change your life forever. Your Heavenly Father needs you. His work, under the direction of our Savior Jesus Christ, needs what you are uniquely prepared to give. Every missionary experience requires faith, sacrifice, and service, and these are always followed by an outpouring of blessings.
As we discuss these blessings, you will naturally consider what I have called the four F’s: fear, family concerns, finding the right mission opportunity, and financial challenges. May I yet add another more important and powerful F—faith. Only through our faith can we heed God’s counsel to “choose ye this day, whom ye will serve”—“to serve the Lord God who made you.” And only through a trial of our faith can we receive the miraculous blessings we seek for ourselves and our families. “For if there be no faith among the children of men God can do no miracle among them; wherefore, he showed not himself until after their faith.”
Allow me to share some of the miraculous blessings from letters and accounts I have received over the past four years. A humble couple from Idaho met fear with faith when the Lord called them to Russia. They wrote the following acceptance letter: “No one would have imagined we would be called to this assignment. We have no idea how we will learn the language or manage to be of service, and although we accept with much trepidation, going completely on faith, we know that the Lord and His prophet know more than we do where we should serve.” Ten months later the Stockholm Sweden Temple welcomed 30 Saints from a small branch in Russia led by this couple from Idaho who had barely begun to learn the Russian language. The scriptures tell us, “God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles.” Thus, God’s work is carried out by His children, “that faith also might increase in the earth, … that the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world.”
Another couple faced family concerns with faith. A faithful sister wrote: “The decision to serve a mission was not hard. But my 90-year-old mother was extremely apprehensive about our leaving. She took great comfort when she heard that our families would be blessed as we serve.” A faithful brother expressed similar concerns about leaving his elderly parents, to which his father responded, “Don’t use your mother and me as an excuse not to go on a mission with your wife. You pray about it and follow the guidance of the Spirit.”
To an earlier generation of missionaries called to leave their families, the Lord offered this reassurance: “And if they will do this in all lowliness of heart, … I, the Lord, give unto them a promise that I will provide for their families.”
Certainly family concerns are real and should not be considered lightly. But we cannot meet our family challenges without the blessings of the Lord; and when we sacrifice to serve as full-time missionary couples, those blessings will flow. For example, one couple worried about leaving their youngest daughter, who was no longer active in the Church. Her faithful father wrote: “We prayed for her continually and fasted regularly. Then, during general conference, the Spirit whispered to me, ‘If you will serve, you will not have to worry about your daughter anymore.’ So we met with our bishop. The week after we received our call, she and her boyfriend announced they were engaged. Before we left for Africa, we had a wedding in our home. [Then we gathered our family together and] held a family council. … I bore testimony of the Lord and Joseph Smith … and told them I would like to give each of them a father’s blessing. I started with the oldest son and then his wife and proceeded to the youngest … [including our new son-in-law].”
As we consider couple missionary service, it is appropriate to involve our families in the same way. In family council meetings, we can give our children the opportunity to express their support, offer special assistance we may need, and receive priesthood blessings to sustain them in our absence. Where appropriate, we may be able to receive priesthood blessings from them as well. As the faithful father in this story blessed his family members, his son-in-law felt the influence of the Holy Ghost. The father wrote: “By the end of our first year [the] heart [of our son-in-law] began to soften toward the Church. Just before we returned home from our mission, he and our daughter came to visit us. In his suitcase was the first set of Sunday clothes he had ever owned. They came to church with us, and after we returned home he was baptized. A year later they were sealed in the temple.”
Though the details of this story may be unique, the principle is true for all who say to the Lord, “I’ll go where you want me to go.” I testify that as we put our trust in the Lord, He will find the right missionary opportunity for us. As He said, “If any man serve me, him will my Father honour.”
In considering missionary opportunities, many couples throughout the world have an abundant desire to serve but lack abundant means. If this is your situation, remember that the right mission call may not be to a far-off country with a strange-sounding name. The right call for you may be within your stake or area. “Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” Counsel with your extended family and your bishop or branch president. As the Lord’s servants understand your temporal situation, you will be able to receive the eternal blessings of full-time missionary service.
If you cannot serve because of serious extenuating circumstances, would you consider making a financial contribution to help those who can? The reasonable sacrifice of your means will not only bless other missionaries and those they serve; it will bless you and your family as well.
Now, to those who were not able to serve a mission in their youth, may I speak directly to you. Perhaps over the years you have been burdened by feelings of regret or felt less than adequate because you did not have a missionary opportunity to serve and grow when you were younger. My advice to you: look forward, not back. Begin preparing for your mission as a senior missionary couple today! Save a little money each month. Study the scriptures. Accept Church callings. Pray to feel the Lord’s love for others and receive His love and confidence in you. You can one day claim all the blessings of missionary service!
And what marvelous blessings they are! After 51 years of marriage, I was asked, “What part of life would you want to live over again?” I did not hesitate to reply, “When my wife and I served together in the great missionary work of the Lord.” The sentiments of another missionary couple echo those of my wife and myself: “Our decision to go on a mission brought new vigor, new emotions, new friends, new places, new challenges. It brought us closer together as husband and wife; we had a common goal and a real partnership. And best of all, it brought new spiritual growth instead of spiritual retirement.” Brothers and sisters, let us not go into spiritual retirement.
Now, may I extend a challenge to bishops and branch presidents throughout the world? Over the next six months, would it be possible for each of you to consider recommending one or more missionary couples beyond those presently planning to serve? Your greatest resource in meeting this challenge will be those senior members of your ward who have already served missions. In my own ward an inspired bishop called a special meeting of prospective and returned missionary couples. As we bore our testimonies of sacrifice and service, the Spirit witnessed to us all that a call to serve is indeed a call to “know the richness of [the Lord’s] blessing[s].”

Scott was not the best athlete in his high school. He had not carried the ball or tackled anyone in football, won any races in track and field, or scored any points in basketball. Yet that year his school’s athletes, coaches, and parents gathered to present him with their most prestigious award, the award for best athlete of the year. In the past, young men and women who received the award were on championship teams or won individual honors. Several had gone on to college with scholarships attesting to their abilities. Why they now gave the highest award to someone who had not been a member of any team is a story of sensitivity and gratitude for a boy honored for a different type of achievement.
I know this story because I am Scott’s priesthood adviser. I knew that Scott was given the award because he had, as manager of the football team, contributed his enthusiasm, warmth, and work to the team members. After one ugly incident when Scott was abused by a member of the team, the coach and other team members became very protective of him. Because of their love they voted to give him the award.

Promised blessings vary from person to person according to need. Sometimes it may even seem that the blessings promised could not ever be fulfilled, but we need to remember that our Heavenly Father sees things from a different perspective than we do. For example, Elder Thomas S. Monson, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, tells this story:
“Several years ago a patriarch gave a blessing to a teenage girl … who lived in Poland. In the blessing he felt impressed to promise her that she would marry in a temple of the Lord. He hesitated to give that promise, for there was absolutely no way for her to leave Poland allowing her to marry in a temple. But he responded to the whisperings of the Spirit and gave the girl the promise.
“After giving the blessing, the patriarch came to my office and asked, ‘Did I do the right thing?’ I indicated that a man always does the right thing when he responds to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. He said, ‘But I have bestowed a promise which cannot be fulfilled.’ I replied, ‘Let us trust in the Lord with all our hearts …’ Within a period of two years, a pact was signed between Poland and Germany that permitted those of Germanic origin to return to West Germany. That lovely teenage girl moved to Germany where she would be free to go to the temple of the Lord when the time came for her marriage.” (Scandinavian Area Conference, August 1976, page 10.)

Now I must tell a little of what happened there. You remember that was as far as I had promised to go with them. From the station there we were taken to the headquarters of the Mormon mission in Norway, at Osterhausgaten No. 27. While we were there, they held a meeting in that hall, and my parents wanted me to go into the meeting. But I wouldn’t go in. You remember I said before that I was bitter. There was a lady there who saw that I did not go in. She said, “If it was my boy, I would whip him till the blood ran down into the heels of his shoes.” I heard her say it, but I thought she would have to be a good runner to catch me for I was light on foot.

Now this is how they got me to go farther. They knew what I had said before I left home in Ringsaker, and my sister Agnete had said that if I didn’t go, she wouldn’t go any farther either. Father went out to a hat store and bought my brother Mathias and myself each a nice brown hat and gave them to us. He said nothing but looked sorrowful. When I saw my parents looked sorrowful, I remembered what I had read in the Bible: “Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God gavest thee.” I consented to go with them. Then they cheered up, and I have never regretted it.

When David had enough cartoons for a portfolio, he began sending them to cartoon publishing syndicates, hoping to sell them to other newspapers. He got some good feedback, but no takers. That’s when David and his wife, Sage, decided to try syndicating his cartoons on their own. They had brochures printed up with some sample cartoons and mailed them out to hundreds of regional and college newspapers. So far, his cartoons are running in 17 newspapers. Not enough to make a living, but a start.

In our own family, we have had such an experience with wonderful, watchful priesthood leaders. When I was first called to the Seventy some years ago, we were assigned to move to Solihull, England, to serve in the Area Presidency. Sister Rasband and I took our two youngest children with us on this assignment. Our daughter was a young single adult and our son a 17-year-old who liked American-style football and played it very well. We were very concerned about them. No friends, no extended family, and no American football! I wondered, “Would this exciting new experience prove to be a serious trial for our family?”
The answer came in an early assignment I received. I had been asked to speak to the missionaries at the Missionary Training Center in Preston, England. I called President White of the center and was pleased to hear that he knew of my family situation. He suggested we include our children on our visit to Preston. Once we were there, he even invited our daughter and son to speak to the missionaries! What a thrill for them to be and feel included and share their testimonies of the Lord’s work!
When finished and after tender good-byes to those missionaries, we visited the beautiful Preston England Temple, which was close to the Missionary Training Center. As we walked near the front door, there stood President and Sister Swanney, the temple president and matron. They greeted us and welcomed us into the temple with, “Elder Rasband, how would you and your family like to perform baptisms for the dead?” What a wonderful idea! We looked at each other and gratefully accepted. After performing the ordinances and while my son and I were still in the font with tears of joy in our eyes, he put his hand on my shoulder and asked, “Dad, why haven’t we ever done this before?”
I thought of all the football games, all the movies we had attended together, all of the good times we had shared—certainly happy memories and traditions that are so important to build.
However, I realized we had an opportunity to add more meaningful spiritual experiences with our children like what we had experienced in Preston that day. Thanks to those caring and observant priesthood leaders, I knew then that our family was going to do fine in Europe. How grateful we are for the many priesthood and Young Women leaders who have always been watchful and loving to our children and yours.

Sam pedaled his bike as fast as he could up the hill. He leaned forward. The air whipped through his hair. His friend Liam pedaled next to him.
“Getting tired?” Liam said.
“No way!” Sam said.
Their friend Eric was already at the park at the top of the hill.
“Komm schon! Come on!” he yelled.
Sam and Liam reached the top of the hill. The boys parked their bikes and sat under a tree.
Liam picked up a rock and threw it. “I’m bored.” There weren’t many places to go in their small village in Switzerland.
“Me too,” Eric said. He scratched the dirt with a stick.
“We could keep biking,” Sam said.
Liam scrunched up his face. “That’s all we ever do.”
“Let’s do something funny!” Eric said. He hopped up and walked over to the bike rack, where lots of bikes were parked. Sam and Liam followed him.
Sam’s stomach felt tight. Sometimes what Eric and Liam thought was funny wasn’t funny to him. Eric and Liam liked to tease other kids and say rude things in class. But maybe this time would be different.
Besides, there weren’t many boys in Sam’s class. If he wasn’t friends with Eric and Liam, who would he be friends with?
“Let’s take the valve caps off all the tires,” Eric whispered. “We can hide them by the tree.” He knelt down by a shiny red bike and twisted a little plastic cap off one of the tires.
Liam laughed. “Yes! That will be so funny.”
Sam sighed. Nope. This time wasn’t different. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we should just go.”
Eric shoved Sam’s arm. “Aw, come on!” he said. “No one is even looking.”
“They’re just little parts,” Liam said. “No one will even notice they’re gone.”
Sam tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. Taking the valve caps wouldn’t ruin the bikes. He shrugged and nodded.
The three boys quickly took all the valve caps off the bike tires and ran back to the tree. They hid all the caps under a rock and sat down to watch the bikes. Liam and Eric were giggling.
Soon a man walked up, unlocked his bike, and rode off.
“See? He didn’t even notice,” Liam said.
But I did, Sam thought.
The rest of the day, Sam couldn’t stop thinking about the valve caps. He wished he could give them back, but he had no way to find the bikes’ owners. He knelt down and told Heavenly Father about it.
“I feel awful,” Sam said. “I wish I had never done it. Please forgive me, Heavenly Father.”
The next day, Sam and his friends rode their bikes to the park again.
Once again, Eric said, “Let’s take the valve caps!”
Once again, Liam agreed.
Sam remembered his prayer. And this time, he felt a little braver.
“I don’t think we should,” he said.
“Why not?” Liam said, frowning. “No one even noticed yesterday.”
“I wouldn’t want someone messing with my bike,” Sam said. Before either boy could answer, he hopped on his bike. “Race you to the bakery!” he yelled. Then he started pedaling as fast as he could.
Eric and Liam grabbed their bikes too.
“No fair! You got a head start,” Liam called.
Sam grinned as his friends raced after him. He whispered a thank you to Heavenly Father. He felt much better.
This story took place in Switzerland.

Photograph by Shaun Stahle
Elder Brandon Burton served as a proselyting missionary in the Philippines Cabanatuan Mission for eight months. “I loved teaching in Tagalog and felt that I had adjusted to the culture,” he said.
Unfortunately, he started to experience unexpected challenges.
“I felt like my life was slowly losing its color, and it was difficult to see the joy of the work,” he said. “Eventually, after I was diagnosed with depression, my mission leaders and I concluded that I should go home to navigate my new health challenges.”
Elder Burton was disappointed. He said, “I thought I was ruining God’s plan by coming home.” But he worked with his stake president to transfer to a service mission.
Through a series of miracles that took place before Elder Burton even boarded the plane home, his parents met individuals at Church headquarters who gave him the opportunity to serve the Lord with his unique skills and abilities.
The rest of his mission included teaching the gospel in the evenings, helping with articles for the Liahona magazine, working with horses, and serving in the Bountiful Utah Temple.
“God clearly showed that this was His plan and that He would provide for me,” he said.
“God clearly showed that this was His plan and that He would provide for me.”
Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has said that “service missionaries bring great blessings to themselves, but more importantly, as they are doing this work, they’re blessing Heavenly Father’s children in unique ways.”
Elder Burton concluded, “I thought I came home because I was broken, but I learned that is not true. I transferred to a service mission because that is where God needed me, and He provided a way.”

[Taylor] missed his older brother and sister. They were in [school]. “I wish I could go to [school] too,” he said to [Mom]. “Next year,” [Mom] told him, “when you are five years old, you [can] go to [school]. Until then, you get to [be] my helper.” [Taylor] felt better. He liked helping [Mom]. “What are we going to do?” “We are going to [can] [tomatoes],” she said. “First we have to wash our [hands].” [Taylor] stood on a [stool] and washed his [hands] at the [sink]. “Now we wash the [jars].” After [Mom] washed the [jars], [Taylor] dried them. He carefully placed the clean [jars] on the counter. [Mom] placed a big [pot] of water on the [stove] to boil. [Taylor] helped [Mom] take the stems off the [tomatoes]. Then he sat at the [table] and watched [Mom] put the [tomatoes] in the hot water and then dip them in cold water. After she peeled the [tomatoes], she placed them in the [jars]. “Why do you [can] [tomatoes] each year?” he asked. “To put in our [food] storage,” [Mom] said. “Later on we will be doing [green beans], [peaches], and [pears].” [Taylor] remembered last year when his [dad] had not worked. The family ate [food ]from their storage for three months. [Taylor] really liked the canned [peaches]. “I am glad [Dad] has a job now,” [Taylor] said. “I am too, but we still need to keep adding to our [food] storage. The [prophet] has asked every family to have a year’s supply of [food],” [Mom] said. After watching [Mom] for a while, [Taylor] was sleepy. He brought his [quilt] and [pillow] from his bedroom and lay down on the floor. When he woke up, [Mom] was putting the [jars] of [tomatoes] on a shelf. The [tomatoes] sparkled like red [jewels]. That night in family [home] evening, the family sang, “Follow the [Prophet].”* After they sang the song, [Taylor] smiled and winked at [Mom]. He knew they had followed the [prophet] today.

“We left off last night at the beginning of Mosiah, remember?” Dad said.
During family scripture study, everyone usually had a turn to read. Nine-year-old Elise read from the Book of Mormon very well. Braydon was six and needed just a little help. Josh sat on Dad’s lap, and Dad whispered a few words for Josh to repeat.
It was Mom’s turn first tonight. After Mom read, Elise began reading with Mosiah 2:6:
“‘And they pitched their tents round about the temple, every man having his tent with the door thereof towards the temple, that thereby they might remain in their tents and hear the words which King Benjamin should speak unto them.’”
Elise stopped reading. She didn’t turn the page even though everyone else did. Dad looked at her as if to say, “Go on, honey.” A big smile came over Elise’s face.
“Dad, was King Benjamin kind of like a prophet?” she asked.
“Yes. We read the other night that he was a holy man who reigned over his people in righteousness.”
“Mom and Dad, do you think since tomorrow is general conference, we could pretend to be King Benjamin’s people and make a tent to listen to the prophets on TV?” Before her parents could answer, Elise was excitedly dancing around the room.
“Yeah!” Braydon said, brightening.
Josh crawled off Dad’s lap to skip with Elise.
Mom and Dad looked at each other. “Do you mean a tent made of tables and blankets and chairs?” Mom asked.
“Yes, a really big tent,” Elise said. “But there has to be a door to watch conference on TV.”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “We need to be listening to conference, not playing and making noise.”
Elise sat down.
“We could pretend it was hard to hear and we’d have to be really quiet to listen,” Braydon said.
“Just like the people trying to hear King Benjamin from the tower,” Elise added. “We promise we’ll be quiet and listen.”
“We could even call it a ‘reverence tent,’” Braydon said.
“Our conference reverence tent!” Elise beamed.
“That’s starting to sound like a fun idea,” Dad said.
“Hurray!” Josh cheered.
“Let’s get some things ready tonight,” Mom said.
After scripture study, Dad, Elise, Braydon, and Josh got busy setting up the “reverence tent.” They started with the long table that was used for big family dinners. They added the card table, some chairs, and lots of blankets, and connected it all to the couch. There was plenty of room inside for snacks and supplies for taking notes.
Most importantly, there was a big wide-open door facing the TV so the children could hear and watch general conference.
Elise, Braydon, and Josh helped color a sign that read “Reverence Tent.” “It’s to remind us to be quiet and listen, Dad,” Braydon said as they pinned it onto the blankets.
“Let’s bring in our scriptures,” Elise suggested.
“Great idea,” Braydon said.
They crawled in to look around. “Mom,” Braydon called, “come and see!”
“Wow!” Mom said as she came into the room. Mom had been busy gathering last year’s conference Ensigns, notebooks, scissors, glue sticks, pens, and crayons. She took out the General Authority charts from the old Ensigns and said that during conference Elise and Braydon could cut out and glue onto their notes the picture of the person who was speaking.
“I’ll help Braydon take notes,” Elise volunteered.
“And I’ll help Josh color a picture of the prophet,” Braydon said, smiling at Josh.
“I’m really excited about the talks,” Elise said.
“And the music,” Braydon added.
“General conference will bring a wonderful spirit into our home,” Mom said.
“This is going to be a great conference,” Dad agreed. “I know the Spirit will speak to each of us as we listen.”

Heidi Harris of Salt Lake City wanted to study the Book of Mormon but felt she had time only for schoolwork. Then one night, frustrated by a math problem, she exercised her faith and prayed for help. When she finished, the first thing she saw was the Book of Mormon. “I picked it up,” she says, “and began to read. … I finished a chapter in 1 Nephi, then went back to my treacherous math problem. I found I could solve it.”
After several weeks of reading the Book of Mormon, Heidi found herself achieving more academically. “I still had to do the work, but the reading gave me an extra push. … I was able to understand what I studied, and I had the patience to stick with my work. Not only did my grades improve, but I was easier to get along with and happier than I had ever been” (Liahona, February 1996, 13).

Our whole family worked as stake missionaries to the Salt Lake Stake Hmong Branch, and I taught Neng and Shoua and the other children how to fold their arms to pray, how to look at the pictures in Book of Mormon Stories, how to sing “I Am a Child of God.” They taught us how to say hello in Hmong—nyob zoo (knee-ah shong)—and we taught them all kinds of things, like how to turn on a light, use a pencil, or buy a chicken with money. At Christmastime generous people gave the Hmong some clothes, toys, fruit, candy, nuts, and cookies. They ate the oranges and nuts, but they threw away the candy and cookies!

Thomas ran through the house looking for Dad. His Scout patrol meeting started in 10 minutes, and he needed help tying his neckerchief.
“Dad! Can you help me?” Thomas pointed at his neckerchief. But Dad was busy talking on the phone.
“Of course Cody can join our patrol,” Thomas heard Dad say. “In fact, we have a campout next weekend.” Dad talked some more, then smiled and hung up.
“Who was that?” Thomas asked.
“You know Cody from school? That was his dad. Cody’s going to join our den and come on the campout next weekend.”
Going on overnight campouts was Thomas’s favorite part of being an 11-year-old Scout, and he liked Cody. But he was confused about one thing. “But Cody doesn’t go to our church.”
“I know,” Dad said. “Cody’s church doesn’t do Scouts, so he wants to join our patrol.”
But everybody in our patrol is from our ward, Thomas thought. How would Cody fit in?
Before the campout, everyone met up at the Church building. “Hi,” Cody said to Thomas. The boys talked for a bit, and then Cody said, “I brought a two-person tent. Wanna share it with me?” Thomas grinned and said yes. Soon the Scouts set off for the mountains. When they got there, the boys ran off to set up their tents.
“Ready?” Thomas called to Cody.
“Ready!” The two boys pushed the tent poles into the ground. Their tent rose up and made a long shadow. “That was easy,” Cody said. “Race you to the river!” Cody bolted away, and Thomas followed behind.
Cody took a turn leading a hike and lighting the campfire. He liked exploring and was really friendly. Thomas was glad Cody got along with the group so well.
At dinner that night, Cody and Thomas grabbed their tinfoil dinners and joined the other patrol members at the picnic table. “Brother Wilson, will you say the prayer?” Dad asked one of the other leaders.
Thomas folded his arms and looked over at Cody. He wasn’t sure how Cody prayed at his church. But Cody bowed his head too and said “amen” at the end—just like everybody else.
“Why did your dad call him ‘Brother Wilson’?” Cody whispered. “Is he really his brother?”
“It’s because we’re all children of Heavenly Father,” Thomas explained. “Do you pray the same way we do?”
Cody smiled. “We use some different words, but it’s mostly the same.”
Pretty soon it was time for s’mores around the campfire. “Now we’ll have Cody give the spiritual thought for tonight,” Dad said.
Thomas was surprised, but Cody gave him a thumbs-up as he walked to the front of the group. “Thanks for letting me come,” Cody said. “I was a little nervous at first, but you’ve all been really nice. I’m going to share one of my favorite scriptures.”
Cody read, “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you” (John 13:34). Thomas recognized the scripture. “I go to a different church than you guys, but we all show that we love God in the same way—we love each other. Thanks for being my friends!”
Dad stood and thanked Cody. “Now let’s sing ‘Love One Another’ to finish our evening,” he said. Cody listened and smiled while the group sang.
“Nice song,” he said as he crawled into their tent. “It was just like my scripture!”
Thomas smiled and climbed into his sleeping bag. Cody and I might go to different churches, he thought, but we can still be great friends.

The last experience I’d like to share came when I passed the bar exam. A salty old trial lawyer approached me and said, “Bob, you can’t be a successful, effective trial lawyer and an active member of the LDS Church at the same time.” I considered others who were successful in their law practices and active in the Church, and I determined to be active in the Church. My decision didn’t affect my success as a trial lawyer. In fact, it enhanced it because I had balance in my life. I was trying to do what the Lord had asked me to do, and He gave me additional strength, understanding, and help.

Since being in the Dominican Republic, we have had several experiences where members and friends of the Church have approached us and told us they were, or had friends who were, members. One Saturday, we walked into a jewelry shop that sold locally crafted jewelry. When the lady behind the counter saw our badges, she immediately said she had family who were active members of the Church. We had a wonderful exchange with her as we made a few modest purchases. nullA few weeks later, while at a mango festival in Bani, Dominican Republic, a young member, about missionary age, saw our badges and came up to greet us and welcome us to his city. We talked about missions with him and felt his warm and welcoming spirit. We could easily see him serving the Lord wearing his own missionary badge. We continue to be blessed by the people we meet because of the badges we wear and who we represent. The power of the badge continues to touch hearts as missionaries throughout the world strive to declare through word and deed “that there is no other way or means whereby man be saved, only in and through [Jesus] Christ” (Alma 38:9).

As I was growing up, there were no Church buildings in the entire state of New Jersey, so for a time our little branch met in a hotel in a nearby town. My earliest memory of having a testimony of the gospel was when I was five or six years old and we were having a meeting in the ballroom of the hotel.
An important visitor was there. I don’t remember now who he was, but he was very thin and tall, and I believe he had white hair.
I had grown restless near the end of the meeting as he was speaking, and my mother had been trying to keep me quiet. She finally let me sit backward in my chair so that my legs were dangling from it. Although I wasn’t facing the speaker, I was listening to him. Suddenly I felt a burning in my heart, just like the burning described in Doctrine and Covenants 9:8 [D&C 9:8]: “And if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” I remember turning around and seeing this tall man with the light streaming in from the large windows behind him, and I knew that he was a servant of God and that what he was saying was true. The feeling I had then was as clear and sure as anything could be.

When I was seven or eight, I wanted to earn some money. I found some old bottles of shoe polish and decided to set up a shoeshine stand. I thought I was going to make my fortune. But I had to set up my stand in the attic of a granary, near the back of a lot, and, because of the isolated location, not one customer ever came. For another project, I gathered worms and sold them to fishermen for ten cents a dozen.

If we are willing to work, we can accomplish many things. When I was about thirteen, some of my friends and I decided to organize a Boy Scout troop. We couldn’t find a leader, and we really wanted to go to the Jamboree that was held by a lake many miles away. We found a ride to the Jamboree and won the award for the best camping skills, even without a leader!