Gospel Story Finder

Not all of the success of telling their message comes from the performances. For Dave Palfreyman, the group’s emcee and business manager, one of his most memorable experiences with the group happened at a stop at Sutter’s Fort, California.

“We had stopped to eat and stretch our legs. Some of the members went on a tour of the fort. Those of us who had already taken the tour were left with free time.” Dave and four girls decided to visit a hospital that was across the street. They told the head nurse who they were and asked if there was someone who didn’t receive many visitors. The nurse told them about an elderly lady.

“I was a little nervous,” Dave explained. “But I took the initiative to speak. The woman was Mrs. Daugherty, 84, a widow and a grandmother of two, and she was alone in a world of millions of people. As soon as I introduced us, the girls swarmed around the bed. We found a very beautiful woman—a child of God just like us. I became silent and watched my friends put an old German saying into practice: Geben ist selger als nehmen (To give is much more precious than to receive). I was asked to say a prayer. Prayers,” Dave concluded his story, “should come from the heart, and if they do, one knows deep within that our Father and his Son are happy. They were. Mrs. Daugherty knew, we knew, and none of us will forget it.”

As you return to Temple Square, walking downhill south on Main Street, you pass the once magnificent McCune home (14). The story is told that the wife of the original owner was serving as a guide on Temple Square when a haughty visitor asked her about the living conditions of the typical, uncouth Mormon. She assured him that she was an ordinary native and invited him to her “typical” home, with its marble floors, gold doorknobs, carved balustrades, and third-floor ballroom. The visitor was much astonished that this was the way Mormons lived!

Each new convert should be provided a calling in the Church. Such brings interest, stability, and growth. The task may be somewhat simple, such as that given to Jacob de Jager when he and his family became members in Toronto. He held lofty posts in business, but his first calling in the Church was to put the hymnbooks in place along the pews. He took his assignment seriously. In recollecting this first calling, he said, “I had to be present each week, or the hymnbooks would remain undistributed.” As you know, Elder de Jager later served many years as a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy. Though he had many demanding responsibilities as a General Authority, he never forgot his first calling in the Church.

Last year the missionaries knocked on their door and were invited to come inside. After the missionaries taught the family, Mother decided that she wanted to join the Church, and knew that it would help her teach the gospel to her family. Father decided that he needed to obey the Word of Wisdom so that he could be baptized too. Both parents were baptized on July 10, 1991. About a week later, Loli was baptized by her father. The Primary children sang at her baptism. A few weeks after that, Pili decided that she was ready to be baptized too. She knew that it was important for her family to become an eternal family. When Pili was confirmed, she could feel the Holy Spirit in her heart.

Mom, Dad, can we invite my friend Lily and her dad and brother for Thanksgiving?
Yeah, can we? Her brother Oliver is in my class.
We have lots to be grateful for. If we can share, that’s another blessing.
In that case, how about inviting Audrey and her mom?
And Franco and his dad?
On Thanksgiving Day the Cooper house is crowded but happy.
Thanksgiving Day is in October in Canada. Do we have any family there?
Why?
’Cause next year we could go to their house for Thanksgiving. If we did this twice a year, I’d be twice as thankful!

The woodland was under a heavy shroud of cloud cover that weekend. Rain filtered through the air, and the cameramen waited patiently to expose their film. It rained, and they prayed. And it rained some more. If the filmmakers were unable to complete filming in that one week during the spring of 1975, the project would have to wait a year until the surroundings were right again. The season would soon change, and to add to the problems, the lead actor had to leave the following Friday. On Monday morning the crew awoke before dawn and and began to set up all their equipment, thinking somehow they could compensate for the weather. But suddenly it stopped raining. When the sun came up, they beheld the loveliest mist they had ever seen. The tall, wet grasses sparkled, and the birds burst forth in song, and they knew they had been blessed with a beauty they could never have produced themselves.
That morning the Brigham Young University Department of Film Production began filming scenes for the First Vision. Stewart Petersen, who played the Prophet Joseph, walked through those tall grasses with thoughts of that other “beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (JS—H 1:14) when Joseph Smith humbly prayed for an answer to his question, “Which of all the churches should I join?”
The First Vision is a historical film commissioned by the Church for release as a teaching aid and missionary tool. The script follows Joseph Smith’s own account of the spring of 1820 in Palmyra, New York, when, after reading and pondering James 1:5, he decided to ask of God which church was true.
The singular beauty of that first morning was followed by a week of busy filming. By Thursday renewed bad weather set in—more clouds and more rain. By the end of the day there was still one important scene that needed to be put on film—and that scene had to be filmed in bright sunlight. It was the scene where Joseph runs toward his home on a bright sunny day. So Friday morning they set up an 18-foot scaffold for their cameras in the center of the field that lay between the grove and Joseph’s home. They offered another special prayer and waited. After what seemed like hours the clouds parted. The cameras rolled. Just before the scene ended, the clouds closed in again, and darkness prevailed. “That’s all we got,” said David Jacobs, producer-director, “but that was all we needed—it’s the scene that opens the film.”
In Joseph’s own account of the First Vision he tells of entering the grove and kneeling to supplicate the Lord. Suddenly he felt a literal darkness—“some power which entirely overcame me … the power of some actual being from the unseen world.” (JS—H 1:15–16.) How to handle the feeling of such an evil influence was hard to conceptualize and then transfer onto the film. On the plane to New York the week before, David Jacobs had been studying some research material on a recently discovered account of the vision written by Joseph.
A couple of sentences jumped out at him as he read: Joseph said, “I heard a noise behind me like someone walking toward me. I strove again to pray, but could not; the noise of walking seemed to draw nearer. I sprang upon my feet and looked around, but saw no person or thing that was calculated to produce the noise of walking.” (As quoted in Dean Jesse, “Early Accounts of the First Vision,” BYU Studies, Spring 1969, p. 284.) “I knew instantly,” Dave said, “that this was how I wanted to get into the darkness scene. It was dramatic. It was true.”

This story took place in Tonga in 1981.
Silioti walked home from school past trees of yellow papayas and rosy ripe mangoes. When she saw the fruit, she remembered how hungry she was. She also remembered that today was a special day. Today everyone in her stake in Tonga was fasting for the prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball. The prophet was sick and needed an operation. Tonight everyone in the stake would meet to pray and end their fast together.
When Silioti reached her house, she smelled food cooking in the ‘umu, the pit oven. Her stomach grumbled. Silioti was glad she was old enough to fast now, but fasting on a school day was so much harder than fasting on a Sunday.
Silioti tried to forget how hungry she was. She found firewood and cleaned up the leaves that had fallen from the tall breadfruit trees that shaded her yard.
Heavenly Father will understand if I take a tiny sip of water, Silioti thought as she washed her hands after chores. Then she thought of how much she loved President Kimball. She wanted him to be well again. She decided she would wait.
Silioti sat down on the porch and laid her head in her mother’s lap. She was so tired.
“You can end your fast if you need to,” Mother said.
“But I want to fast,” said Silioti. “I can do it.”
When Father came home from work, everyone in the family helped uncover the ‘umu. They took out the pork wrapped in leaves, the fish, and the breadfruit baked in coconut milk. Then they wrapped the food in cloth and carried it out to the road to wait for the bus.
They met other families on the road, all with their own bundles of food. They all smiled and talked as they climbed on the bus together. Silioti found a little space next to Mother. She smelled the good food as the bus bumped along.
It was dark when the bus reached the chapel. Inside, Silioti knelt with her parents, her brothers and sisters, and hundreds of other members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
During the prayer, Silioti prayed in her heart, Please let President Kimball get well again. She knew every person in the room was praying for the same thing. A calm feeling inside told her that President Kimball would be OK.
When she opened her eyes, she saw tears on the faces of the people around her. All of these people had fasted, and she had fasted with them. It had been hard, but she had done it!
President Kimball survived his operation and served as the prophet for four more years.

“Mom, how can I find a friend?” Connor asked. He watched Mom put down her book.
“There are lots of ways,” she said. “Did you try what we talked about? Smiling at people and talking about your hobbies?”
“Nothing works.” Connor sat on the couch by Mom and twisted his hands together. “I just want a friend. Someone who understands me and will be kind to me.” Connor was feeling sad and lonely, more every day. He had autism, and it was hard finding a friend who was nice to him.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “I know it’s been hard without friends for so long, especially with the bullies at school. Did you try praying about it?”
“No.” Connor sighed.
Mom smiled. “Sometimes friends find us. And sometimes we have to find them.” She put her arm around Connor. “When I was younger, I was really lonely too. I prayed for two years, and then I found a very special friend.”
Connor’s back straightened. “Who did you find? Was it Jamie?”
Mom nodded. “I prayed and looked for someone and found Jamie.”
“She’s your best friend!” Connor felt happier inside. If Mom found a friend by praying, maybe he could too! When he said his prayers that night, he prayed to find someone who also needed a friend.
Connor looked for a friend at school. He looked at the grocery store. He looked at church. And he kept praying.
Connor was walking home one day and saw kids playing outside. They were his new neighbors, the ones who just moved in with their dad and stepmom. Connor didn’t know them very well. One of the boys, Seth, was deaf. He went to a sign language ward for church.
No one else in the neighborhood knew sign language. It must be hard for Seth to feel like he doesn’t have friends to talk to, Connor thought.
Wait! he thought. Seth needs a friend. Just like I do!
Connor found some books at the library about sign language. He practiced everywhere he could. He practiced in the bathroom mirror. He practiced in the car. Soon Connor could sign lots of words.
Then one day Connor knocked on Seth’s big front door. He held a notebook and a sign language book under his arm.
When Seth came to the door, Connor put his hand to his forehead. He kept his fingers close and then moved his hand out, like a salute. Connor had learned that was how to sign hello.
Seth made the sign too. He smiled a little bit. He pointed at the sign language book and raised his eyebrows.
Connor signed, I’m learning sign language. Then he opened the notebook and wrote, “Can you teach me more?”
Seth’s smile got bigger. He waved Connor inside, and they sat in the family room together. They signed back and forth for a few minutes. Connor wrote down questions on the notebook, and Seth wrote his answers below. Seth taught Connor a bunch of new signs. Pretty soon the notebook page was filled.
Connor couldn’t believe it. He was learning sign language with his new friend!
After a few weeks, Connor and Seth didn’t need books or papers anymore. They learned how to understand each other, and they both liked having a kind friend.
“Mom, I did what you told me to do,” Connor said one night after getting back from Seth’s house. “I prayed to find someone who needed a friend and would be mine too. Seth was the one I found!”

I have a friend who was blessed with a beautiful family and a promising career. This changed when an illness left him unable to work, which was followed by a divorce. The years since have been difficult, but his love for his children and the covenants he has made with God have sustained him. One day he learned that his former spouse had remarried and had requested a cancellation of their temple sealing. He was troubled and confused. He sought peace and understanding in the house of the Lord. The day after his visit, I received the following message from him:
“I had an amazing experience in the temple last night. I think it was obvious that I still held quite a bit of resentment. … I knew that I must change, and I have been praying all week to do so. … Last night in the temple I literally felt the Spirit remove the resentment from my heart. … It was such a relief to be freed from it. … An ominous physical burden bearing down on me has been lifted.”
While he still has his challenges, my friend treasures that experience in the house of the Lord, where the liberating power of the love of God has helped him to feel closer to God, more optimistic about life, and less anxious about his future.

When I was in the Air Force, the operations manual for the F-4 Phantom II fighter jet had a warning in bold print:
“IF THE AIRCRAFT BECOMES UNCONTROLLABLE BELOW 10,000 FEET, BAIL OUT!”
Each pilot was required to memorize this important warning. Indeed, on every flight day, a superior officer could ask for a “bold print” emergency procedure such as this, and any pilot who could not recite it exactly was suspended from flying until it could be repeated perfectly.
Not only was this warning to “bail out” developed by designers, aeronautical engineers, and the Air Force, but its importance had been confirmed by decades of pilots who lost their lives because they did not follow the crucial warning.
It can be hard for a pilot to abandon an aircraft—especially when the “uncontrollable” flight results from one’s own piloting mistake. Pilots often try to correct their error by attempting to fly the airplane out of the problem.
In addition, bailing out is an extremely traumatic experience that no one looks forward to. The pilot is shot out of the cockpit (sometimes even right through the glass canopy) with such force that it contorts the body with 12–14 Gs of gravitational force and accelerates the pilot to an unknown landing that might include rocks, trees, or water. This situation, however, is much more desirable than riding the uncontrollable piece of metal into the ground at any speed.
This is because gravity is the law—not just a good idea—and is not optional. There is a pilot proverb that states, “In the ongoing battle between objects going hundreds of miles per hour and the ground going zero miles per hour, the ground has yet to lose.”
The same could be said when applying gospel principles, or laws, to our spiritual lives. We cannot change eternal principles—we can only obey them to find safety and joy.
I had a good friend who failed to follow the warning in bold print to bail out. There is no doubt he understood the bold print and was well instructed on it. He graduated from the United States Air Force Academy. He graduated near the top of his class in pilot training. He spent years studying correct knowledge and training to fly aircraft.
And yet, he simply didn’t believe what he knew to be true. If he really believed the bold print stating, “If the aircraft becomes uncontrollable below 10,000 feet, bail out!” then he certainly would have pulled the yellow “Eject” handle and bailed out of the uncontrollable and doomed aircraft.
Like the bold warnings, which are more than just a good idea, the principles of the gospel are unchallengeable and unchanging. We ignore them at our peril. Gospel principles are not patterned after the pretenses, vain hopes, adages, fables, or best guesses of men. Instead, they are eternal laws.
We must have faith enough to follow the counsel given to us by prophets in both modern and ancient days. The first step is to gain knowledge. The Doctrine and Covenants tells us, “It is impossible for a man to be saved in ignorance” (D&C 131:6), so each of us must understand the value of acquiring knowledge and then take the necessary action to gain it. We must learn the bold print of gospel principles.
And we must also see that knowledge alone can’t protect us. Our knowledge must move us to act on the correct principles. We show the strength of our beliefs when we act correctly in tough or uncertain situations that require us to apply the knowledge we have gained. Faith that is strong enough to lead us to correct action is the basis of progress and salvation.
Unlike my friend who did not heed the direction to bail out, on another occasion one of my other fellow pilots did. He had made a mistake and glanced off the top of a mountain on a low-altitude bombing run. Although his F-4 Phantom II jet was destroyed, this pilot had pulled the yellow handle and bailed out while careening through the air, and he lived. Belief strong enough to apply his knowledge had saved this pilot.
While a man cannot be saved in ignorance, he also cannot be saved without applying properly and timely the knowledge he has gained.
King Benjamin said, “If you believe all these things see that you do them” (Mosiah 4:10; italics added).
Never trade luck, foolish traditions, adages, or worldly views for obedience to the correct principles that will save you.

Chris, 17, was working for a supermarket that required him to work on Sundays. The more he stayed with the job, the more unhappy he became. He had always attended church and enjoyed the association with his fellow priests. He missed that brotherhood, but couldn’t see any other options open to him.
While Chris was attending a youth conference, however, he realized that there was hope. One of the sessions was on selecting a career. The discussion leader stated, “You don’t have to settle for a job which doesn’t satisfy you. You have the ability, with God’s help, to take control of your own life.” After the session Chris talked to the instructor. Together they explored his options and discussed how to find the type of job he wanted.
Four weeks later he started a job which paid more, was in a field which really excited him, and didn’t require him to work on Sundays.

The Russian guard lifted the gate blocking the way from the old pre-World War II Russian military hospital to the main road. The girls and their leaders drove through the gate in silence. They had all been excited for the service project, but none of them had imagined how thankful they would be feeling after the project was over.
The young women of the Berlin Servicemen’s Ward in Berlin, Germany, had just spent the afternoon with thirty-two Russian children who had been exposed to radiation during the Chernobyl nuclear plant explosion. The children had been sent to Beelitz, which was part of the former East Germany, for thirty days of treatment, and then another group of children would be sent in.
The girls had played with hula hoops with the children. They bounced foam rubber balls on a parachute, and then, in another game, they tried to clear all the balls from one side of a room to the other before the whistle blew. Before they left, the girls gave each child a little bag of fruit, a stick of gum, and a small present which contained a notebook, pen, and three colored pencils.
Once they were on the main road, the silence broke. But the car wasn’t filled with the loud noises of happiness that usually accompany groups of girls. The voices were hushed, and everyone was feeling tender about what they had just experienced.
They had gone to uplift the ailing children. But much to their surprise, the children had done the same for them.
The children sang songs, danced, and even put on a skit of “Cinderella” for the girls. Although they couldn’t understand the children, that didn’t slow things down. Seventeen-year-old Elisabeth Farnsworth says, “The language barrier didn’t matter because we were able to communicate through our spirits.”
When the children finished their program, they asked the young women to sing for them. “As we stood to sing ‘I Am a Child of God’ to these children, who didn’t understand English, tears came to my eyes,” says Elisabeth. “I received the feeling that what we sang was true and that, even though we speak a different language and come from different countries, we all are children of the same Heavenly Father who knows what each of us needs. He does love each of his children. These children were away from their families, and they needed to know that they were loved.” The Lord had provided that love through the young women.
“I learned a lesson that will certainly stay with me through the rest of my life,” says Tina Dorny, 17. She made friends with an eight-year-old boy named Sascha, who clung to a piece of a toy train track the entire time the girls were there. “For just a moment, Sascha taught me to find happiness in the little things we are given and not to be so caught up in the world that we forget each other.”
The children as well as the doctors and nurses were delighted with the visit and asked the girls to please come again. So they made arrangements to come the following Friday, only this time they would bring food, clothing, and copies of the Book of Mormon in Russian. The project turned out to be such a success that the young women of the stake have continued visiting the Russian children each month, and will do so as long as the children are receiving treatment in Beelitz.
Each of the girls left the hospital that afternoon having felt the Spirit in some way. Elisabeth wasn’t the only one to say, “While I was serving, I felt the Spirit as strongly as I have ever felt it.”
The car turned; the girls could see their own meetinghouse in the distance. Spontaneously, they began singing “Because I Have Been Given Much” (Hymns, number 219). They now understood what King Benjamin meant when he said, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).

During my childhood, my family and I lived in a two-story building with six apartments, and every year all six families would join together to celebrate Christmas. As a young man, that was one of my favourite times of the year.
A pine tree was placed in the centre of the yard and along with my brothers and friends, we would help decorate both the tree and the yard. After the adults had finished preparing the lights, they were painted in different colours and then used to decorate the tree.
One of the most beautiful moments was when we turned the lights on. The colour combination made the place even more cheerful, especially when the lights reflected the nativity scene.
I still vividly remember those moments and the joy that we felt year after year helping prepare for this glorious celebration. This Christmas Eve I want to invite you to ponder on the question what is Christmas to you?

Ouch! Have you ever been attacked by a jumping cactus? Cholla cactus segments “jump” off to stick to clothes, skin, or whatever else they can hook their spines into.
The Latter-day Saint youth of New Mexico know how difficult it is to detach themselves from a prickly cactus. They got some extra practice, though, as they cleaned the site where the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple will be built. Armed with shovels, rakes, and gloves, youth from four stakes assembled on a hot Saturday morning to rid the property of sagebrush, garbage, and cholla, so the weeds could be mowed and the ground made safe to walk on for those attending the temple’s groundbreaking ceremony.
“It was hard work, but it will be totally worth it for the temple to come,” says Robyn Sampson, age 15.
Before the city of Albuquerque approved the plans for the temple, the youth fasted and prayed for a solution to the problems the temple’s project manager faced when he presented the plans to city officials. Now they say they are fasting and praying for the temple builders. But the prayers and the cleanup are only part of the work the young people of Albuquerque are doing to prepare for the temple. They are also working to make certain their own lives are clean.
Despite the burrs on their socks and an occasional scare from a snake or lizard, the Albuquerque youth succeeded in clearing the future temple site of every spiny cactus and broken bottle they could find. It might seem strange, but the youth actually enjoyed pulling cactuses and loading trucks with sagebrush.
“We’re so happy we will have a temple here. We thought it would never happen,” says Rosalie Campbell, age 12.
Amber Chee, age 17, looks forward to doing baptisms for the dead and someday getting married in the Albuquerque temple. “It was really fun coming here. I felt the Spirit,” she says.
Both Rosalie and Amber have done baptisms for the dead before, but opportunities for temple trips come only once a year for the Albuquerque youth, who have had to travel at least eight hours to get to a temple.
“Temples were always a faraway thing,” says Neil Peterson. As 16-year-old Neil wipes his brow, he says he enjoys helping out with something so important, even if it is hard work.
Besides concentrating on the cactus plants, Michelle Williams is thinking about what it will mean to have a temple in her area and about why she is cleaning up the temple site. “It’s very symbolic,” she says. “You have to be clean yourself to go to the temple.”
Logan King is waiting for his call as a full-time missionary. He won’t be able to go to the Albuquerque temple before his mission, but he realizes the importance of being worthy to attend the temple. “We need to clean all the cactuses out of our lives before we can go to the temple,” he says.
Researching family history is another way the Albuquerque youth are preparing for the temple. Many of them have become excited about doing family history, knowing they will soon have a temple in their area. Albuquerque’s family history center missionaries, Sister Wilcox and Sister Hatfield, say the temple will strengthen the youth. Among the large number of young people in the area, they have seen a “big push for genealogy.”
Sarah Sego, age 17, loves doing baptisms for the dead and can’t wait for the temple to be built so she can do baptisms more often. “I know it’s the right thing to do, because all those people are waiting,” she says.
Sarah is eager to tell others why she loves going to the temple. She talks to her friends about the temple and even tactfully shared her testimony of temple work with her high school class.
Sarah is not alone in her missionary efforts. Many Church members are enjoying the opportunity to explain the gospel to others because of the temple.
“I think the temple will make people notice us more,” says Lisa Willis, age 14. She’s also been telling her friends about the temple. “The best part of building a temple is having people ask about it,” she says.
Albuquerque’s full-time missionaries were also working hard at the cleanup. They say members in the area feel that the temple will bring many blessings to all the people of Albuquerque.
“While tracting, we stopped by a house and a woman opened the door and said, ‘Hey, I heard you are building one of those temples.’ That allowed us to get in the door and talk to her about the Church,” says Elder Moyer from California. Many missionaries have similar stories.
The temple will be built in a valley where it can be seen from far away. In fact, it’s the same valley the Mormon Battalion came through on its famous march from the Missouri River to California.
At the groundbreaking ceremony, many young people who had been at the cleanup also sang in the youth chorus. The strains of “High on the Mountain Top” (Hymns, number 5) rang out over the crowd of thousands that had gathered to see the temple ground dedicated.
“We all joined together to celebrate our temple,” says Tyler Lindsey, age 16. “I knew that it was right and the ground was holy. I don’t know how we sounded, but the Spirit was there.”
The Spirit is there. The spirit of service, of missionary work, and of love can be felt strongly in Albuquerque. Whether pulling cactuses or doing baptisms for the dead, the youth of Albuquerque are carrying out the Lord’s work with His Spirit to help them. The youth don’t know yet all the ways the temple will change their lives, but they are grateful to have been able to take a small part in the temple-building project. They are looking forward to the temple’s dedication in the year 2000 and to even greater blessings and opportunities to come.

I didn’t know what to do. President Ezra Taft Benson said that we should all read the Book of Mormon, but it isn’t that easy. My mom and dad think that since I’m only five years old, I’m too young to have a Book of Mormon of my own. Since I don’t have my own Book of Mormon, I decided to borrow one.
The first thing I did was look for my father’s Book of Mormon. I was climbing on a chair to get it from the top shelf when Dad came into the room.
“What are you doing, Melissa?” he asked.
“I want to read the Book of Mormon.”
Dad got his book and sat down in a chair with me on his lap and showed me the picture of Nephi stretching out his hand, and the one with Abinadi standing before King Noah, and even the one of Jesus coming down from heaven. Then he closed the book, gave me a hug, and lifted me off his lap.
“But I want to read it,” I said.
He opened his Book of Mormon to one of the front pages. “See this yellow spot?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“That’s mustard from your last hot dog. See this brown smudge on page 229?”
I nodded.
“That’s from your chocolate ice cream cone.”
“Oh.”
“See these last two pages that won’t come apart, even when I shake them?”
“Yes.”
“Strawberry jam.”
Dad put his Book of Mormon back on the shelf and walked away. I decided that I would have to borrow someone else’s.
I went up to my brother’s room. It’s full of all kinds of things, but I looked around until I found his Book of Mormon in the bottom drawer of his dresser. It’s a small one with tiny print and a real leather cover, and it has his name written in gold on the front. Ryan says that he’s saving it to take on his mission. I was just opening it when he came into the room. When he saw me, his eyes got wide. He rushed over and grabbed it from my hand.
“But I want to read it,” I said.
“Leave it alone!” he shouted, flipping it open. “Look at this!”
“It looks like a crayon mark,” I said.
He turned to another place. “And this!”
“It looks like someone accidentally tore the page,” I said.
He closed the book and put it back in his dresser drawer. I slipped quietly from the room.
I went to my own bedroom and huddled in a corner. After a while my nine-year-old sister came in. What’s wrong, Melissa?” Gina asked me.
“I want to read the Book of Mormon.”
Gina smiled and patted my head.
“You can read mine,” she said. I watched her look around the room until she found her Book of Mormon hidden under a pile of blankets. “Here,” she said, handing it to me. It was a big one, with large print.
“Thank you,” I said. I sat down on my bed and opened it. I looked at the words really hard, but I still couldn’t read them. I squinted at the page. I turned the book upside down. I lay on my back and lifted the book above me in the air, but it was no use. No matter what I did, I couldn’t read the Book of Mormon like the prophet told us to. I closed it and put it beside my pillow. Maybe the prophet hadn’t meant for five-year-olds to read it.
That night my mother came up to my room to tuck me into bed. She leaned over and kissed me and pulled the covers up to my chin. Then she looked around the room for my bedtime storybook. Mom looked in the toy box and under the bed, and while she was still searching, I remembered Gina’s Book of Mormon.
“What about this book, Mom?” I asked.
She picked it up. She looked at me, then at the book, then back at me again. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” I said.
She opened it to the first page.
“I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents,” she began.
It was better than my story book any day.

My good friend Don Pearson shared an experience that highlights this influence. One night his four-year-old son asked him to read a bedtime story. Eric had picked out his favorite book: The Ballooning Adventures of Paddy Pork, a story about a family who lived on the isles of the sea and traveled from island to island by hot-air balloon. It was a picture book that had no words, so Brother Pearson made up words to the story.
“Paddy is in a hot-air balloon. He is landing on an island now. He is dropping a line over the side of the balloon.”
Eric stopped him. “Dad, that is not a line. It’s a rope.”
Brother Pearson looked at Eric and back at the picture book, and then he continued: “Paddy is getting out of the balloon and climbing down the tree. Oh no! His coat is caught on a limb!”
Again Eric stopped him. “Dad, that’s not a coat. It’s a jacket.”
By now Brother Pearson was somewhat perplexed. He said, “Eric, there are no words in this book, just pictures. Why do you insist that it’s a jacket?”
Eric answered, “Because Mother told me.”
His father closed the book and said, “Eric, who do you think is the last word, the ultimate authority in this house?”
This time Eric thought carefully before he answered, “You are, Dad.”
Brother Pearson beamed at his son. What an exceptional answer! “How did you know that?”
Eric quickly responded, “Mother told me.”

I have a friend who chose not to serve a mission because of some personal struggles. Years later, he felt puzzled and disheartened every time he read a line in his patriarchal blessing that said he would have the opportunity to serve a mission. He felt like he had messed up what God had in store for him and was often filled with shame and uncertainty about the future.

But as he prayerfully pondered this situation, he realized that the key word in his patriarchal blessing was opportunity. Heavenly Father invites us to obey Him and to choose good opportunities throughout all seasons of life.

My friend may not have served a mission, but he has deepened his faith in Christ and his willingness to act on opportunities and callings given to Him. And he has found joy and fulfillment in making good decisions and allowing God to guide him.

With just a month left on my mission, I felt like I needed to take action and find my family’s records before I returned home. I prayed to know if there was something more I could do, and I felt a distinct prompting from the Spirit telling me that I needed to get a copy of those vital records that I had seen months ago. I told my mission president that I felt like I needed to return to my family’s village in Switzerland and explained why. The village was 87 miles (140 km) away, but my mission president gave me permission to go anyway.
It was dusk when the narrow winding road took us up the mountain into the hamlet of Vergeletto. We stopped at the focal point of town, the Catholic church. My companion and I were then drawn to the cemetery across the street from the church that was all lit up with candles.
As we entered the cemetery, I clearly and strongly felt the Spirit guide me like I never had before. That feeling and the fresh alpine air created a sensation I will never forget. In the cemetery, it seemed that every other tombstone had my last name on it. We even saw my great-grandfather’s tomb; it said people went to him to repair their broken bones.
We returned to the church to see if we could find the priest. There we met an old man, who told us it was Il Giorno dei Morti, or a holiday known as the Day of the Dead (which would explain all the candles in the cemetery). The man told us that the priest had services in neighboring villages and would be back in two hours.
My companion and I waited, and when the priest returned, I reminded him of our encounter a few months earlier and then asked if I could see the vital records of the parish again.
He agreed.
The priest brought out a box of books that were hundreds of years old. I told the priest that our Church was microfilming parish records in Parma, Italy, 170 miles (274 km) away. I asked if he would allow us to take the records for a few weeks and have them copied.
He again agreed. I was shocked.
As we left town, I marveled at what had just happened and even checked the rearview mirror to see if the priest was running after us with a change of heart. Two weeks later, we returned the records to him, as promised.

I am also reminded of President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), who was assigned to succor members of the Church in Germany following World War II. “Through the God-inspired welfare program, he literally fed the hungry, comforted the weeping, and lifted closer to heaven all with whom he met.”2
Years later, President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) referred to that event at a dedication service in Zwickau. At the meeting, an elderly Church member approached him and said: “Please tell President Benson that we love him. He saved our lives: mine, my wife’s, my children’s, and many, many others.’ He was as an angel sent by God to literally restore to us hope and confidence in the future.”3

My heart leapt on 7 November 1981 as I received my mission call to serve in the Chile Concepción Mission. When I opened that letter, my world froze in place, and all I could think of was my mission.
I had almost everything ready. Again and again I reviewed the list of things I needed. I made a little mark on the list as I put each item in my suitcase. But even with my careful planning, I completely forgot one essential thing.
It wasn’t until two hours before I was to depart that I realized I needed some money to travel from my home in Quilpué to the Missionary Training Center in Santiago, Chile, which was about two hours away. I had already used all my savings and the funds my parents had given me.
My bishop wasn’t home when I ran to see if he could lend me the money. I didn’t need very much, but at that moment it seemed like a fortune.
I knelt down in my room in anguish and told my Heavenly Father what was happening, although I knew He already knew. When I got up from my knees, I was confident that He was going to help me solve my problem. I was a faithful tithe payer, and I knew the Lord would open the windows of heaven and pour out blessings upon me until there was no room to receive them (see Mal. 3:10).
My mother called to me and asked me to go through my closet and decide which things I wanted to leave there and which my sister could use. While I was sorting my clothes, I found a little purse so small it fit in the palm of my hand. I remembered that I had received it many years ago and that in it I had hidden my first savings.
I opened it and—what a blessing! Tucked neatly inside was some money I had put there many years earlier. It would be enough to pay for two fares to Santiago. I invited my father, who is not a member of the Church, to accompany me to the Missionary Training Center.
The years have passed, but I still remember this answer to my prayer. It has helped me remember how great are the power and mercy of our Father in Heaven.