Gospel Story Finder

Elder Craig Proctor and his companion had to wait for every appointment with Julieta Villanueva Bulan Ledesma, a 5-foot nutrition graduate from Philippine Women’s University and mother of four (a girl and three boys), who had a fierce determination to resist the efforts of the two towering missionaries in converting her to the Church.
She found all the excuses to make them wait expecting that, by taxing them to the limit of their patience, they would be exasperated with her. One time, she started to wash a huge bundle of clothes when the two came for another appointment, hoping that they will get the message and leave her alone, not to return anymore. But, Elder Proctor and his companion were not to be discouraged and, at that time and other times, they held fast to their positions in the battle of the long wait. And, then, the moment long awaited by the diminutive Julieta came. The persistent Elder Proctor was transferred. At last, Julieta thought, the battle of nerves was won by her.
There was no apparent reason for Julieta to shy away from the missionaries. Her husband was then 1st Counselor in the Bishopric under Bishop Robert Evans of Makati I Ward. She was, in fact, already active in Church, serving an assignment as non-member Home Making Teacher under the guidance of Sis. Doris Scott, President of the Makati Ward Relief Society.
She was like any other member, attending Church functions and services, but the thought of baptism was still farthest from her mind. She was determined to remain in the faith she was born into. And, that was that, until …
During an unguarded moment, she saw her husband alone in her room, kneeling in fervent prayer, and a very strong feeling tugged at her heart, knowing that her husband was beseeching the Lord to show her the way and the light.
On July 20, 1974, two years, five months and one week after her husband was converted to the Church, Julieta was baptized at the Quezon City chapel. Elder Proctor was there, and great joy was in their hearts as her husband immersed her in the baptismal font.
Autumn of 1975, on October 1 to be exact, Bro. Craig Proctor stood impatiently at the doorway of his home at Oneida Street in Salt Lake City, waiting … This was the longest wait ever. He was expecting the arrival of two close friends from the Philippines, and the minutes ticked on like days.
And then, two familiar figures came into view. His heart leaped with joy as he ran towards them with tears in his eyes. His two friends from the Philippines also cried unashamedly as they embraced him on the street.
For Bro. Proctor, the missionary who waited and waited, another chapter in his book of life had been written.—P. Ocampo, Jr.
Editor’s Note: On October 6, 1975, Bro. Jacinto L. Ledesma and Sis. Julieta were sealed for eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.

Randy Nako knows what it means to hit the spot. Randy has hit enough bull’s-eyes to pile up a list of awards. As captain of his varsity rifle team, he’s earned the American Legion Marksmanship Medal, National Rifle Association Junior Sectional Championship, and Expert Badge.
Randy, a member of the Honolulu Hawaii West Stake, has served as deacons and teachers quorum president and assistant to the president of his priests quorum in his ward. He’s an excellent student and has been named to Who’s Who Among American High School Students.
“Along with this honor comes a chance that I could receive one of many scholarships,” Randy told Church members in a stake conference address. “If I am selected to receive any scholarship, I will have to check to see if there is any chance that I can use part of the scholarship before I go on my mission and use the rest of it after I return from my mission. If it can’t possibly be arranged, I will turn down the scholarship, because I know that if I serve the Lord first, he will bless me and help me prepare a way so that I can continue my education.”

When I was nine months old, my parents—a young couple, with three children and pregnant with another—were caught in a magnitude-7.5 earthquake in Argentina. As our house began to fall down, my father and mother grabbed us and ran. After checking to see that we were OK, they looked around at the devastation. My father quickly assessed the damages and losses, and realized that we would have no clean water from the public network. There wasn’t even enough water to wash off the dust from the crumbling houses!
When the shock wore off, my father grabbed his bicycle and went to check on his mother, who lived a few blocks away. When he arrived at his mother’s destroyed house, he walked around back where she was sitting with only a few scratches.
My grandmother asked my father to save some things from the debris, and while he was doing so, he found two demijohns (glass containers in which 5 to 15 gallons [20 to 60 L] of wine were sold) filled with fresh drinking water. They were undamaged.
A few months before the earthquake, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) had instructed the Saints throughout the world to store food and water. My grandmother, a recent convert, had listened. From those two demijohns, we were able to supply our family’s needs for a couple of days until emergency assistance arrived.
This example of my grandmother’s obedience was a testimony to my father, who later converted to the gospel. Our family has since been sealed in the temple. I am so grateful for my grandmother’s faith and obedience to the call to be prepared.

“I was playing with it first,” four-year-old Romero yelled as he grabbed a toy out of his little sister’s hand. Lolita started to run to their mother, so Romero angrily handed the toy back to her. The branch president and his counselors had come to visit, and Romero knew his parents would not like to be disturbed while they were talking with them.
Romero lived in the Philippines with his mother, father, and little sister, Lolita. Their home was a nipa hut his father had built from palm leaves and bamboo. The missionaries taught the gospel to his parents when Romero was just a baby. They knew that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was true, and they were baptized. They talked about the gospel at home and read the Book of Mormon together. They were a happy family.
At first, Romero’s family went to church every week. They didn’t have a car and the church was too far away to walk, so they rode in a small bus called a jeepney. But as the weeks went by, they began to forget to save extra money for the jeepney ride, so they couldn’t go to church. Some weeks they just didn’t get ready in time. After a while, they stopped going to church. They didn’t talk about the gospel in their home any more, and they didn’t read the Book of Mormon together.
Now the branch president was talking to Romero’s mother and father about the gospel. Romero heard his mother and father promising to attend church the next Sunday. But Romero was still more interested in getting the toy away from Lolita than in listening to the adults.
However, when he heard one of the visitors say “Book of Mormon,” Romero stopped playing and listened to what they were saying. He went over to a shelf and took out the Book of Mormon. He thought about some of the wonderful stories his parents had read to him from it. Romero had a good feeling as he held the Book of Mormon and remembered these things. He felt reverent. Now he didn’t want to take the toy away from Lolita. Instead, he wanted her to be happy. He wanted to sit quietly and listen to the branch president. As he listened, Romero knew he would like to go to church and to read the scriptures with his family again.

Antonella and Mariana loved going to church each week. But now they couldn’t go to church in person because of the COVID-19 pandemic. They had Primary class online, but it just wasn’t the same.
Antonella and Mariana missed going to Primary in person. A year ago, their family had moved from Chile to Canada. The pandemic made it hard to make new friends. They missed being able to learn about scripture stories with the other kids. And they missed having lessons in Spanish like they did in Chile.
One day, after having church at home, Antonella and Mariana looked online for something to help them study Come, Follow Me.
“I wish we could find more videos in Spanish,” Antonella said. She thought for a moment. Then she had a great idea. “We could make our own videos for Come, Follow Me every week.”
“Yeah, and we could do them in Spanish!” said Mariana. “Then we could share them with other kids too.”
Mamá and Papá said they could help. The whole family was excited!
First the family read the scriptures for the week’s lesson. The girls planned what they would talk about. Then they started to make the videos. Antonella and Mariana took turns recording themselves as they talked about stories in the Book of Mormon. At the end of each video, one of them shared something they learned from the lesson. Then Mamá and Papá helped them make the video to post online.
At first, they didn’t always know what to say. But reading the scriptures and learning more about the lessons helped them.
One Sunday, Antonella and Mariana sat in front of the computer for their Primary class. This week’s lesson was about the stripling warriors in the Book of Mormon. “Why did the stripling warriors go to fight?” their teacher asked.
Mariana unmuted their microphone. “I know!” she said. She and Antonella had made a video about that story last week. “Their fathers promised God that they wouldn’t fight, so the sons went instead.”
Antonella nodded. “And their mothers taught them that if they had faith, God would keep them safe.” She smiled at Mariana. It was fun to study the scriptures together.
That night at dinner, Mamá asked, “How was Primary?”
“Good!” Antonella said. “Making the videos has helped me learn a lot more about the scriptures.”
“Me too!” said Mariana. “I can answer a lot of the questions in Primary. And we know the scripture stories better.”
“I’m glad the videos have helped you,” said Papá. “I think they’ve helped a lot of other people too!”
“That’s right,” said Mamá. “Sharing what you’ve learned and how you feel about the gospel is a great way to serve!”
Mariana smiled. “I like that we can serve this way,” she said. Then she turned to Antonella. “Let’s start planning next week’s video!”
This story took place in Canada.

Danette Allred pauses before beginning her transformation from a fair-haired Wyoming girl into a wicked Nephite dancer. Blue eyes sparkling, she relates the events that have brought her here: “I came to the pageant last year with a youth group, and it really touched me. I decided right then that I’d like to be in it. It made me realize that there is more to the Church than I had thought. And even then I knew I’d like to be a dancer and an angel, which is what I’m playing now.”
Because of her double role, Danette spent weeks of rehearsal with a five-hour, four-day-a-week schedule. Did she ever get tired of it? What about the eight performances? “Oh no, never! I get a special feeling during every performance.”

When we respect the confidences granted us, our friends can speak of their inner feelings or reach out for help. Marie and Heather shared this kind of trust. Heather had four children and demanding home responsibilities. Marie was often prompted by the Spirit to call just when Heather needed to confide. Heather said, “I couldn’t hide my feelings from her question, ‘How are you doing?’ I’d cry and explain, and she would listen, and I’d feel better. I knew my words would go no further. I thank the Lord for Marie.”

Massa Moseray (in white blouse) is a single parent and the breadwinner for seven dependents all living in Kissy Stake. Massa returned from her full-time mission just at the end of the Sierra Leone civil war. Due to this circumstance, there were very limited opportunities for her development. Massa was recommended by her stake leadership to join the Start My Business pilot group. She was able to raise SLL 180,000 during the group’s pilot activity which was used as seed money for her business.

Little did Grandma Jones realize when she began the parties in 1962 what a missionary tool they would be. She recorded in her journal: “I had read an article on the Prophet in the Church News and was so impressed I decided to have a family birthday party to honor and study about him. Since his birthday was so close to Christmas, I combined learning about the Prophet with more serious thought on our Savior’s birth. I wrote a small invitation to each family member but did not tell them who it was for. I was afraid they would either laugh at me or think I had lost my mind. I even had a small eight-inch white cake with a tiny manger scene on top.”
But her children did not laugh. It was such a success they asked, “Mom, can we do it again next year?” And that is how the tradition began.

The troubles predicted by Elder Taylor suddenly struck during one of the first nights out. Below deck nearly 400 souls were asleep in the tightly stacked berths along each side of the “extensive bedroom”—about 30 yards long and 8 wide. “In the dead of the night” a 13-year-old lad excitedly leaped from his bunk and at the top of his voice screamed over and over again the name of a fellow passenger. The boy’s parents and a brother and sister could not silence or subdue him. “It soon became apparent,” noted passenger Wilson Nowers, “that he was possessed of an evil spirit.” Through the administrations of the priesthood, the evil spirit was dispelled.

Dressed in red Light the World t-shirts, volunteers took to the streets of South Beach and the Durban harbour to clean.

This clean-up was in collaboration with the local government of Ethekwini and Gagasi FM, a local radio station in KwaZulu-Natal.

The cleaning campaign was part of the city’s ongoing efforts ofto keep the streets of Ethekwini clean, while creating an awareness on the proper disposal of waste.

With the cleaning spots identified, and the pickup truck arranged, members of the Church, Ethekwini Municipality and Gagasi FM with brooms on the one hand and refuse bags in the other, swept through the streets of South Beach and Durban harbour.

Tons of clothing items, plastics, polystyrene food packaging, and beverage bottles were collected.

An interesting experiment in social psychology investigates how much the judgments of others influence the way we see things. A psychologist built a small machine containing a bright light which could be switched on in pinpoint bursts. When one views a small burst of light in a dark room, the light appears to move, even though the machine producing the light is stable and doesn’t move at all. This is called the autokinetic (self-movement) effect, and it plays an important role in this experiment.
During the first stage of the experiment one person, let’s call him Bill, is led into a dark room and instructed to judge how far the tiny pinpoints of light move each time he sees a burst of light. His judgment is two centimeters the first time, three centimeters the second time, and four centimeters the third time. After several trials he settles on three centimeters as his average judgment.
Bill is then excused from the room, and Susan is invited to be seated several feet from the light machine. She then voices her judgments each time she sees a burst of light. She begins with three centimeters, then two centimeters, and she finally begins to repeat estimates of about one centimeter.
After her judgments have been recorded, Bill is then invited back into the room with Susan, and both of them are instructed to voice their individual estimates of another series of light bursts. After the first burst Bill says, “three centimeters,” and Susan counters with “one centimeter.” On the next trial Susan says, “one and a half,” and Bill replies, “two and a half.” After several subsequent trials, they concur that the light moves two centimeters each time.
The interesting conclusion to this experiment may appear, at first, to be trivial, but in many regards it is profound. The light never moves. It is only our perceptions of the light that change. As we associate with others whose opinions differ from our own, their judgments often influence how we view things, and we, in turn, influence their view of the world.

Corrie ten Boom, a devout Dutch Christian woman, found such healing despite having been interned in concentration camps during World War II. She suffered greatly, but unlike her beloved sister Betsie, who perished in one of the camps, Corrie survived.

After the war she often spoke publicly of her experiences and of healing and forgiveness. On one occasion a former Nazi guard who had been part of Corrie’s own grievous confinement in Ravensbrück, Germany, approached her, rejoicing at her message of Christ’s forgiveness and love.

“‘How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein,’ he said. ‘To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!’

“His hand was thrust out to shake mine,” Corrie recalled. “And I, who had preached so often … the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.

“Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. … Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.

“I tried to smile, [and] I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.

“As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.

“And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.”1

Corrie ten Boom was made whole.

With the expansion of the Church in Europe, there are now countries where the Church has been for less than 15 years. I spoke with a mission president serving in his homeland of Russia who has been a member for only seven years. He told me, “The same month I was baptized I was called as a branch president.” Did he feel overwhelmed at times? Absolutely! Did he try to implement the full range of Church programs? Fortunately not! How did he grow so strong in such a small congregation, in such a short time? He explained, “I knew with all my soul the Church was true. The doctrine of the gospel filled my mind and my heart. As we joined the Church, we felt part of a family. We felt warmth, trust, and love. We were only few, but we all tried to follow the Savior.”
They supported each other, they did the best they could, and they knew the Church was true. It was not the organization that had attracted him, but the light of the gospel, and this light strengthened those good members.

Two taxing bush walks or hikes climaxed the boys’ stay on the island. The first was a long hike east from camp on a track that runs across a narrow part of the island, around the old convict cement works, and up along Fossil Cliffs above Fossil Bay. Here the trail climbs inland through forests of gum trees and across rocky scree slopes. Most of the boys reached the summit, the twin peaks of Bishop and Clerk. Perched on the rocky summit 630 meters above the sea they ate their boiled eggs, sandwiches, biscuits (cookies), and oranges while they drank in the magnificent vistas of Freycinet Peninsula to the north and Cape Bernier to the south.
Wednesday’s 26-kilometer walk to Chinaman’s Bay and back was tougher than the hike up Bishop and Clerk. Everyone brought their bathers (swimming trunks) and a towel, plus lunch. It took several hours slogging along the soft sandy road that followed the shoreline to reach the white beaches of Chinaman’s Bay. The boys showed amazing stamina as they not only kept up but often overtook their leaders.
As four young Scouts passed him, Brother Pash described the feelings of many of the adults when he said, “It’s disgusting, it is, to see little blokes catching us up that way.”
After some very icy swimming (the Tasman Sea carries too much of the Antarctic chill for the less hardy souls), everyone began the long walk back to camp in time to hike down to the ferry dock, meet the afternoon boat, and buy a fizzy (soda pop).
Thursday’s activities included a treasure hunt that lasted several hours and figured as the high point of the trip for many of the boys. Patrols used clues provided by leaders to guide them from point to point around the island. Because the clues were written very subtly the boys’ powers of observation were sharpened, and whether they had to identify the bleached bones of a beached whale or an old cabin used by one of the early penal officers, they gained a new appreciation for the island and its inhabitants.
Wide games (for getting acquainted), softball, cricket, chess, and fishing took up their share of time as did some service projects for the ranger. Most agreed that it was a wonderful camp, but by Friday men and boys alike were ready to go home.
Geoffrey Swanton, 13, summed up the feelings for many when he said, “The camp was a good experience for me. I think the hikes to Bishop and Clerk and Chinaman’s Bay did me good. I’m glad came. The food was good, but there was not enough of it. I reckon the wildlife here is some of the best in Australia. You could pat the wallabies and observe other animals quite close up. The historic value of the island is good and there was always something to do. I wouldn’t mind staying a little longer, but I need a good shower, a good feed-up, and some sleep at home.”
Though everyone had his favorite activities, most agreed that the most successful part of the whole camp was the wonderful associations that were forged in the warm glow of campfire conversations, in the hot dust of the island’s trails, and in the friendly warmth of patrol and tent group prayers.
“At first the camp appeared boring, but by the second day things became all right. I hardly knew anybody from the other patrols at first, but by the end of the camp I had made many new friends,” said David Scott, from Launceston.
“The camp drew us all a lot closer to our leaders, and it made us all work as a group in order to eat or have activities. The camp succeeded. It brought the young men and leaders together and helped to unify the stake Scout force,” said Matthew Parsons, from Glenorchy.
Every leader enjoyed his associations with the young men of the camp. They seemed pleased when the boys wanted to tell them about their troubles and hopes for life.
“I’ve enjoyed getting to really know the boys I’ve been called to watch over. It has helped me to know their strengths, and this camp really opened up the lines of communication between us,” said Bishop Triffith, Devonport.
The young men left the camp with new friends, better associations with their priesthood leaders, and in many cases stronger interests in the gospel of Jesus Christ and the Scouting program. The first all-Tasmanian LDS Scout camp on Maria Island was over, and everyone agreed that it had been a smashing success.

Carlos rubbed his hand along his head, feeling his bare scalp. He sighed.
His hair had been falling out for a while now. It was a side effect of the cancer treatments he was having. Carlos had decided to shave the rest of it off because he didn’t like how patchy his hair looked. He used to have shiny dark hair. Now all he had was a shiny scalp.
“Carlos? Are you ready for church? It’s time to go,” Mom called.
“Coming,” Carlos called back. He straightened his favorite tie and grabbed his scriptures. Then he ran out to the car.
This would be his first Sunday passing the sacrament without any hair. He was going to be the only bald deacon. Was everyone going to stare at him?
Carlos didn’t say anything for the whole drive to church. He listened to his siblings and parents talk. His stomach was doing flips, and his hands were sweaty. The closer they got to church, the jumpier his stomach got.
The car pulled into the church parking lot. Everyone unbuckled their seatbelts. Everyone except Carlos. Part of him wanted to just sit in the car and never come out.
Mom noticed he wasn’t moving. “What’s wrong, Carlos?”
“I’m nervous about passing the sacrament. I don’t want everyone to stare at me,” Carlos said.
Mom turned around to look at Carlos. “Would you like to say a prayer before we go in?”
“Yeah,” Carlos said. Everyone folded their arms and closed their eyes while Carlos said a prayer. He thanked Heavenly Father that he was able to pass the sacrament. Then he asked for help to not worry about other people staring at him. When he opened his eyes, he felt peaceful and ready.
“That was a beautiful prayer. I know Heavenly Father will help you,” Mom said.
Carlos smiled. He remembered the end of the sacrament prayer, “that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:77). Helping others have the Holy Ghost with them was one of Carlos’s favorite parts of passing the sacrament. Now he felt warm and confident. He was ready.
Carlos walked into the chapel. He looked for his friends in the deacons quorum in the pews in front of the sacrament table. He couldn’t see them. Instead, he saw seven bald heads. Where were all of his friends from deacons quorum?
He walked up to the pews and realized that those seven bald heads belonged to his friends!
The deacons quorum president, Samuel, was smiling at Carlos. “We had the idea to shave our heads. We didn’t want you to feel alone.”
Carlos hardly knew what to say. He thanked his friends and prayed silently to Heavenly Father. He thanked Him for blessing him with such good friends.
Carlos stood tall as he passed the sacrament. He wasn’t alone at all! He had good friends, and he had the Holy Ghost with him.

The eighteen-hundred-mile trip from Ohio to Idaho would have been OK if only my little sister Michelle hadn’t been poking me all the way. Every so often, Mom would look back at us and say, “Now, Michelle, please don’t bother your big brother. We want everyone in a good mood when we get to Grandma’s house.”
But I was so excited about going to Grandma’s that I really didn’t care much what Michelle did to me. You see, Grandma’s farm has lots of hills and, best of all, lots of snow. I could hardly wait to put on a pair of skis and try the slopes. Even the heavy snow falling on the road now only added to my excitement. I could tell, however, that my dad was more worried than excited about it. He had turned off a ball game just to listen to the weather report.
Suddenly the car skidded wildly across the road. Dad pumped the brakes, but the car was out of control. We spun around and around until the car slowly stopped. It was unreal—we ended up turned completely around. Dad let out a sigh and quickly looked back at Michelle and me. “Are you two OK? I’m glad that you had your seat belts on.”
After we had all assured him that we weren’t hurt, and Dad had turned the car around, Michelle began crying. “I’m scared. I don’t like this weather.”
To tell the truth, I kind of wanted to cry too. I had a sick, awful feeling deep inside.
Mom lifted Michelle into the front seat and buckled my frightened sister in beside her. It was silent except for Michelle’s soft crying. “I think we’d better spend the night in the next town,” Mom said quietly.
“But if we do that,” I argued, “we won’t get to Grandma’s for Christmas. We’re so close that we could be there in another couple of hours.”
“I’m sorry, Jon,” Dad said, “but the roads are really bad. I’d rather get to Grandma’s a day late than not get there at all.”
“But, Dad,” I protested. Then before I knew what I was saying, the words slipped out of my mouth: “We could pray about it.” I knew that I’d said the wrong thing, because Dad doesn’t go to church. It’s Mom who always takes Michelle and me to church. Dad stays home and watches ball games. As we had prepared for this trip, Mom had asked Dad to join us in prayer for a safe journey to Idaho, but he had shook his head and left the room to finish packing the car.
“It’s OK if you say a prayer in your heart, Jon,” my mother said. Dad only grunted a reply. Swallowing my disappointment, I closed my eyes and thanked Heavenly Father for our safety and my blessings, especially for the chance to go to Grandma’s. Then I prayed that we would be able to have a great Christmas—one of the best ever.
As we pulled into a small town several miles down the road, the wind had really picked up and was blowing the snow furiously. A highway patrolman was stopping everyone and telling them that the road was closed. Whether I liked it or not, we were not going to make it to Grandma’s that Christmas Eve.
The only motel that had a vacancy was a small, rundown place at the edge of town. Michelle didn’t seem to care. The second the car stopped in front of our unit, she was out the door. The wind pulled at her small body, thrusting her away from the motel and the car. “Dad! Help!” she cried. Dad hurried after her and helped her into the motel. And even though I’m big for my eleven years, the wind made it almost impossible for me to walk.
What a gloomy, yucky place to spend Christmas Eve, I thought as I looked around. It was a dreadful contrast to Grandma’s roomy house with its cheery fireplace blazing with a yule log. Dad sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the TV. It didn’t work. It was going to be a long night.
We had to eat cold sandwiches and cookies for supper. The town had completely closed down. Not more than sixty miles away lay Grandma’s house, yet we couldn’t get there. This looked like it was going to be the worst Christmas ever, instead of the best. I began to wonder if maybe Dad was right. Maybe Heavenly Father really didn’t listen to prayers.
To pass the time, I told Michelle every story I could remember, played every game I could think of, and made up a few after that. At least one person in our family can be happy, I thought. As for Dad, he just sat and stared out the window, watching the wind-whipped snow. Mom stood quietly beside him, rubbing his shoulders. Even though they didn’t say anything, I knew that Dad was upset about something besides the weather.
Suddenly Dad turned to Michelle and me. I could see tears on his face. “Kids,” he said, “I think I learned something very important tonight out on that road. Remember when our car went spinning out of control?”
We nodded.
“Well,” he continued, “on one side of that road was a drop of several hundred feet. If our car had come any closer, we would have fallen down that mountain and been killed. I see now that I’ve been neglecting the most important things in my life—my wife and you two children. I didn’t realize how much you mean to me and—“ He paused for a few moments. “Well, I want you to know that I realized tonight that the Lord did answer your mother’s plea for protection on our trip.”
And with those words, he gathered the three of us in his arms, and we all cried together. Then Dad kneeled down with us on the floor of that motel room and offered a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father.
And I realized that my prayer had been answered too. This was going to be the best Christmas ever!

David soon discovered that he was the only member of the Church in his new school. With only a small number of students there, David knew he would get more attention from teachers because of the class size, but he didn’t want any special attention from his peers for being a Latter-day Saint.
“I was quiet about my beliefs at the beginning,” he says. “It was a new environment, and I was afraid I would be shunned and it would be hard to make friends.”
Then around his third year in the school, David remembered his priesthood lessons about letting his light shine.
“One time there was a big assembly at the school, and as I was looking around, it struck me that I was the only priesthood holder there,” he says. “The Lord had given me a responsibility, and I wasn’t doing enough.” He knew he had to make his membership in the Church known.
He decided to tell his friends about his standards and beliefs. He says it was harder to live his standards when he didn’t tell anyone about them, but when he made them known, it was easier to live them, and he even received support from his friends.

When Jasmine was finally able to communicate with her daughter, she realized there was good reason to worry about her. As the hurricane approached the island, the daughter and others gathered in a building to be sheltered from the fierce winds and rain. As the building started to flood, they ran to another shelter. As they settled, the storm shattered the windows, cutting the individuals with the flying glass. As they continued to find refuge elsewhere, they found another room only to have the roof fly off. The only building left was a generator room, 4 ft x 4 ft in size, where 19 individuals, along with the generators and machines, packed themselves on top of one another for about five hours as they waited for the storm to pass. They were all wet from the rain and cut from the shattered windows, and everyone thought they would not make it out alive.
After the main force of the hurricane passed, they spent the night in the open, surrounded by water but so grateful to be alive. A boat rescued them and brought them to safety the next day.

When the Young Women of the Merthyr Tydfil First Ward, Merthyr Tydfil Wales Stake, learned the chapel of another denomination nearby was in peril, they stepped in to help preserve it.
“The people who use it are mostly older, and they couldn’t afford to have it redone,” explained Natalie Davies, 17. “Unless we helped out, they would have to close it down, and it’s quite a piece of history in this area.”
So the LDS Young Women spent time scraping walls and painting the interior of the old stone building.
“We didn’t expect to enjoy the work,” Natalie said. “At first everyone groaned and said, ‘Oh, we’d rather be playing rounders’ (a British game similar to baseball). But when the older people started saying ’thank you for coming,’ we felt really good. They were so appreciative.”