Gospel Story Finder

Some years ago, when I was serving as a bishop in a ward in Arizona, we had an unusual group of teenagers. Most of them had the courage to do what was right. They stayed close to each other and helped each other when things got tough. Most of them went to a high school close by. In numbers, they were really only a handful of the total student body. They met a girl at the school who was not a member of the Church. Her circumstances were unusual, for she was deaf. She also had a defective heart. The only way she could know what you were saying was to watch your lips and read them. She sat in the front of each class so she could see the teachers speak. She was a good student, but when you can’t hear and can’t be active, it’s hard for you to be a part of what is going on. You’re sort of a spectator rather than a participant. She was a spectator watching from the sidelines.
The young people from the ward were friendly to her and invited her into their circle. She responded to their kindness. One step led to another, and with her parents’ permission she was finally invited to receive the missionary lessons in one of the homes. She was taught by two nineteen-year-old elders not much older than she. She liked what she heard; she believed what she heard; she felt good inside. The day was set for her baptism. We were all invited to go. Dressed in white, she and one of the missionaries entered the water, and she was baptized as he said, calling her by name, “Having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” (D&C 20:73.)
The next step was for her to be confirmed. Some of us stood in the circle as priesthood hands were placed on her head. I was aware that she couldn’t see the lips of the one confirming her. And she wouldn’t be able to hear the blessing he might give. I listened carefully because I wanted to invite her into my office later, where she could see me talk, and tell her what had been said.
A nineteen-year-old elder was the voice as she was confirmed a member of the Church. He then continued with a blessing. As he spoke, he began to make her promises that I thought were unusual. In fact, I became a little uneasy at his words. He continued the blessing, and I began to feel a calm spirit of peace as he spoke. Later, I sat in front of her and said, “I want to tell you of the blessing the elder gave you. It was tremendous.”
She paused, and with moistened eyes said, “Bishop, I heard the blessing.”
She had been healed. She could now hear, and her heart was beating normally. She could now participate more fully in the gospel and in the blessings of life.
There are many lessons to learn from this story. The one I would like you Aaronic Priesthood bearers to remember is this: Here was a nineteen-year-old missionary, an elder holding the holy Melchizedek Priesthood. He had prepared himself for a mission. He had made himself worthy to be an instrument in the hands of the Lord to perform a miracle. So, as he stood with his hands on her head, he felt an impression—a heavenly message, if you please—telling him there was a special blessing for this young woman and he had been chosen to deliver it.
He listened. He obeyed. And through the authority and power of the priesthood, a young life was made whole.

Members of the Lisbon Second Ward know Artur Ventura de Carvalho as a judge in another sense; he is their bishop. It is only one of several leadership calls—including counselor in two stake presidencies—he has received since his baptism in mid-1979.
But he might have seemed an unlikely future bishop when the missionaries first knocked on his door that spring.
“What God?” he replied when they asked if he believed in Deity. It was not the question of an unbeliever, but of one who had studied a variety of religions and could not understand why there are so many different concepts of a Supreme Being. When the missionaries explained that they had a message about Christ, however, his heart was touched and he listened.
“I believe God prepared me over many years to accept the gospel,” Bishop Carvalho says. Neither he nor his wife believed the doctrines of the dominant church in their country; both had sought the truth and were ready to receive it. His own study had already convinced him that God must have a physical body. He was also impressed by the missionaries’ teaching that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a restored church, with apostles and prophets as in Christ’s organization of old.
Living the Word of Wisdom in wine-producing Portugal might create problems for some, but Bishop Carvalho had no trouble giving up the occasional social drink. In addition, he had always believed it was wrong to smoke, and he felt it a privilege to help support the Lord’s work with his tithing.
But Bishop Carvalho did not come from a close family, and joining the Church helped him learn how to be a better parent and spouse. “I didn’t understand my responsibilities as a father. Sometimes, when I came home from work, all I could think of was how tired I was,” he explains. “The gospel was like a light that showed me the way. I began to understand my purpose as a man and as a father.”
Now, Bishop Carvalho says, he could not handle his many work and Church responsibilities without the support of his wife and two children. He says it is a great blessing to have been called as a sealer in the Swiss Temple, because temple work is so important to him. He functions in the calling when he travels to Switzerland with Portuguese temple excursion groups.
“The gospel, for me, is simple. It is an honor to serve the Lord under the direction of his inspired servants.” One of his prime objectives as bishop has been to teach members that the gospel means serving their brothers and sisters.
Bishop Carvalho knows from experience the blessings that come through trying to follow the example of the Master.

Alex looked around the fabric store. There were tons of colors and cool patterns. He saw a few that would be perfect.
“Hey, Mom,” said Alex, pointing to some fabric with colorful geckos on it. “Do you like these geckos?”
“I like cute, fluffy bunnies better,” Mom said.
Alex laughed. “You know what I mean! Would this be good for the scarves?”
“I think your friends will like it.”
Alex was going to make scarves for his friends. He would use the soccer-ball print for Josh, the rocket-ship print for José, and the gecko print for Mike.
Soon they were heading home with the fabric. As they left the parking lot, Alex saw a man holding up a cardboard sign to ask for help. He knew the man probably didn’t have a job or a home. And he looked really cold! He only had a thin jacket. Alex had a thick winter coat, but he still got cold walking to school in the mornings.
When they got home, Alex’s mom showed him how to lay the fabric out straight and measure how much he needed to make one scarf. He carefully cut the fabric with his scissors. Then he cut slits along the ends to make a fringe. Before long, Alex had six brightly colored scarves. There was also a big pile of extra fabric.
“Can you think of anyone else you want to make presents for?” Mom asked.
“Not really,” Alex said. Then he thought of the man holding the sign. He had an idea.
That week for home evening, Alex taught his whole family how to make scarves. His mom measured them out. His dad cut the fabric. Alex and his sister made the fuzzy fringe. He liked making scarves with the gecko fabric. The geckos seemed to smile at him as he worked.
“Wow,” Alex said when they finished. “We made 14 scarves to share!”
“What do we do now?” his sister asked.
“I think we should put them in the car,” Alex said. “Then when we see someone who looks cold, we can give them one.”
“That’s a great idea,” Dad said.
Mom took a bag out of the closet, and they stacked the cozy scarves inside. “Maybe we can go on a family drive sometime to look for people who need scarves,” she said.
“Can we go right now?” Alex asked.
Mom looked out the window. “I don’t know. It’s kind of cold outside.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
His parents smiled. “I guess you’re right,” Mom said. “Just make sure to bundle up.”
Alex threw on his coat, but he hardly noticed the cold air. He knew his scarves might help someone, and that made him feel warm inside.

In the Japanese translation of the hymn “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249), the English words onward and forward are translated as susume. That word has significant meaning for me because of something that happened a few years ago when I was a stake president in Fukuoka, Japan.
The President of the Church, Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), was visiting, and I was asked to accompany him. During one meeting, 300 full-time missionaries gathered to listen to the prophet. The Holy Spirit filled the chapel, and many of us shed tears of joy. We sang “Called to Serve” in Japanese, repeating over and over again susume, susume. President Hinckley asked the mission president, seated next to him, “What does susumemean?”
“It means ‘go forward,’” the mission president replied.
The meeting was wonderful. President Hinckley encouraged and motivated the missionaries. Afterward, he waved to them in farewell and left the building. As he got into my car to go back to the hotel, he said one word to me, in Japanese: “Susume!”
That word became a motto for me: “Go forward! Be positive! Face the future with faith!” It is the same message given to the youth of the Church in the concluding section of For the Strength of Youth. After reviewing the blessings that come from obedience to the Lord’s standards, in a section titled “Go Forward with Faith,” it says: “As you do these things, the Lord will make much more out of your life than you can by yourself. He will increase your opportunities, expand your vision, and strengthen you. He will give you the help you need to meet your trials and challenges. You will gain a stronger testimony and find true joy as you come to know your Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ, and feel Their love for you” ([2011], 43).

Like many people who pursue unusual careers, Shawn was concerned at one time with the question of whether or not his career would conflict with his feelings about the Church.
“After I had been in college three years, I wanted to rodeo for a while, and I was worried about the apparent contrast of ideals in my two worlds—the Church and the rodeo. I worried and prayed about it and spent time thinking it over. Then I realized the right answer for me was very simple. I knew the Church was true, and as long as I did the right thing and lived my religion, I couldn’t be doing wrong. I was then at peace with myself, and the Church has turned out to be one of my biggest assets on the rodeo circuit. I have been the subject of a lot of publicity because I am different. Writers casually mention that I am a Mormon cowboy and then go on to explain some of our beliefs. There are a lot of good Catholics and Methodists and other religions represented on the circuit, but their religions never seem to be mentioned.”

This summer my brothers and sister and I were on the Bitterroot Valley swim team. Competitions were held on Saturday and Sunday. Our coach and teammates wanted us to swim on Sundays so we could help our team get more points. But we just told them, “Sorry, we are keeping the Sabbath day holy.” We decided that we would only swim relays and IMs (individual medleys), both of which are on Saturday. IMs are the most difficult events because you have to swim a lap of each stroke. We were able to keep the Sabbath day holy and still bring our team some points. We knew that we were doing the right thing when we went to church the next day. We had a good feeling inside when we listened to Sister Northcott, our Primary president, talk about how we should keep the Sabbath day holy. We hope we can continue to choose the right.

As youth around the world make the effort to attend seminary, they’re receiving strength in much more than scripture study. Cameron L. of England found that he was blessed in all areas of his life. “Not only does seminary help with the spiritual side of things, but it also helps with school and education,” says Cameron.
He says that “an early start to the day gets your brain into gear. Some of my friends said they were too busy to attend—well, it’s not like you’re going to be reviewing math at 6:00 a.m., are you?” As you study, “the Lord will help you in your exams, and if you go to seminary, He will help you even more,” says Cameron.
Of course, seminary helped Cameron strengthen his testimony as well. He says, “The beginning of my testimony came from the seminary program. At the youthful age of 14, I was really struggling in the gospel. I did not enjoy church, and I got up to things that I shouldn’t have. It was only a matter of months before I would have given up entirely.” But when a friend invited Cameron to attend seminary, he decided to go with her. Then the blessings really began to come.
“I began to feel the Spirit again,” says Cameron. “I started paying more attention in church and attended my Sunday School and priesthood lessons. It became easier, and I started to feel happier. I finally gained a testimony of the gospel for myself.” After two months of seminary, Cameron met with his bishop and was ordained a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood.
Cameron knows that seminary helps him stand strong against the temptations of the world. “As seminary continued,” he says, “I found it easier to deal with the challenges that the world presents. It’s pretty tough being a youth in the world we live in—sin is surrounding us from all sides. I testify to you that if you attend seminary, you will find the strength to defend yourself against it. Seminary creates a spiritual shield to protect you. Many different trials and temptations have been thrown my way, and seminary has been such a huge help in keeping me on the strait and narrow.”

One day at camp we all had the chance to take on the confidence course, a high ropes challenge. For this activity, each participant was strapped into a climber’s harness and had to climb halfway up a steep, notched telephone pole and then up a climbing wall featuring handholds placed randomly across its face. The whole time an instructor watched and waited on a platform high above the climber holding a safety rope attached to the climber’s harness.
For most participants, the course’s height and degree of difficulty made for an imposing obstacle. Still, most of my friends were determined to meet the challenge. In spite of my physical shortcomings, I try to do all I can to match the abilities of average-sized people, and so I decided to attempt the climb.
Before I knew it, I was suited up with climbing helmet and harness, standing at the base of the notched pole. As I began to climb, I heard encouragement from my friends below and from my instructor above. I soon discovered that no matter how hard I tried, my reach was insufficient for the spacing of the notches, which were designed for people with “normal wingspans.”
The instructor at the top watched as I struggled and, when he saw that I had stretched just as far as I was able, he pulled up on the rope a few extra inches allowing me to reach the next handhold. He then relaxed his tension, allowing me to do all of the work that I could.
After much effort I would try for the next handhold. Again I was just inches short of reaching. But because of a caring person at the top who wanted me to succeed, I was again lifted those few extra inches needed to reach the next level. It continued this way, with few exceptions, until I was at last at the top.
The instructor congratulated me, and I felt such appreciation, not only for the help he gave me but also for the fact that he let me do all that I could for myself. It was our success, not his or mine alone.

Recently I received a new assignment. I had been serving in the Africa Southeast Area. It was thrilling to serve where the Church is relatively young and being established, and we loved the Saints. Then I was called to return to Church headquarters, and to be honest, I was less than enthusiastic. A change in assignment brought some unknowns.
One night after contemplating the upcoming change, I dreamed about my great-great-grandfather Joseph Skeen. I knew from his journal that when he and his wife, Maria, moved to Nauvoo, he desired to serve, so he sought out the Prophet Joseph Smith and asked how he could help. The Prophet sent him to work on the prairie and told him to do the best he could, so he did. He worked on the Smiths’ farm.8
I pondered the privilege that Joseph Skeen had in receiving his assignment that way. Suddenly I realized that I have the same privilege, as we all do. All Church callings come from God—through His appointed servants.9
I felt a distinct spiritual confirmation that my new assignment was inspired. It is important that we make that connection—that our callings literally come to us from God through our priesthood leaders. After this experience, my attitude changed, and I was filled with a deep desire to serve. I am grateful for the blessing of repentance and for my changed heart. I love my new assignment.

Brother Snederfler recalls another unforgettable moment: On 20 May 1991, the phone rang. The caller was President Thomas S. Monson, then Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “He said: ‘Jirí, you have been called as the president of the Freiberg temple. You will begin this office on 1 September of this year. What do you say?’ At first I was not able to say anything at all because of my astonishment. President Monson inquired, ‘Are you there, Jirí?’ I told President Monson, ‘I accept humbly this calling.’”

In the temple, the Snederflers opened prison doors to generations of deceased persons who had never had an opportunity to hear the gospel. And they also opened temple doors to patrons who—having had no religious freedom—had languished in spiritual darkness on earth. They welcomed members of the Church from such former Communist nations as Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Croatia, Poland, Hungary, the Czech and Slovak Republics, and the DDR.

“It is so, so good to be in the temple,” Sister Snederfl er says simply. After four years of faithful service there, the Snederflers have returned home to Prague to continue family history research so that more of their own ancestors may enjoy temple blessings.

Young men and young women from the Africa West Area celebrated the 180th anniversary of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon last August. The event was held simultaneously in 20 venues across Africa and included over 11,000 youth from 27 stakes and 32 districts from the seven nations of the Africa West Area: Nigeria, Benin, Togo, Ghana, Ivory Coast, Liberia, and Sierra Leone. It was performed for an audience of more than 30,000. Hundreds of yards of cloth were cut, labeled, and packaged for delivery to outlying stakes and districts. Provided with basic patterns, drawings, and construction ideas, each area created the scenery, costuming, and special effects to stage reenactments of Book of Mormon scenes. Casts ranged in size from 40 to 1,700 participants.
Many found themselves feeling a kinship with the stories they portrayed on stage. Samuel Bagbansoro, 14, of the Abeokuta Nigeria District said, “I acted as one of the guards to the wicked King Noah. The scene with the prophet Abinadi made a great impression on my heart. I know now that whoever is filled with the Spirit of God cannot be subdued by men.”
As practices progressed and the final performances were held, young men and young women found themselves internalizing their respective roles. “Playing the part of Sariah made me seriously ponder on my role when I will be a mother and how I will be able to have the strength,” Chidinma Ijeomah said.
Standing atop the tower erected for the Accra production, Calvin Sowah of the Ghana Accra Adenta Stake, took on the role of King Benjamin. During a television news interview following the production, Calvin shared his perspective on the need for humble leadership in government based upon principles of righteousness. He said, “I realize that most leaders in the world today are proud. I believe that if, as King Benjamin, we will make Jesus Christ the cornerstone of our leadership, we will be good leaders.”

The wind and snow whirling outside the bakery became just a part of the baker’s beautiful dream of fortune, as he dozed contentedly next to the warm brick oven.
Suddenly the baker’s nose twitched. His eyes flew open. The front legs of the chair he was leaning back on hit the floor with a bang!
“Ach du Lieber!” (Oh, dear me!) he exclaimed. “My pretzels! They will be burned!”
He grabbed the long-handled baker’s peel (paddle) and hurriedly removed the pretzels from the oven. There was a different aroma coming from the little knotted pieces of dough he had so carefully prepared and put into the oven a short time ago. And the appearance was not quite like the breadlike morsels he was used to turning out for Mr. Schnitzel’s bakery.
“Ach! Ach!” moaned the little baker. “Mr. Schnitzel will be angry!”
Quickly he gathered the hard little biscuits into a basket and put them by the back door. Hastily he began knotting the remaining dough so that he could get another batch of pretzels out of the oven before closing time. Mr. Schnitzel would soon come in from the front of the bakery with his ring of keys and say, “Well, Hermann, did you earn your money today?”
Hermann had just begun cleaning the oven after taking out the new batch, when he heard Mr. Schnitzel at the back door. Oh, dear, worried Hermann. Why is he at the back door today? As expected, Mr. Schnitzel boomed, “Well, Hermann, did you earn your money today?” Before the baker could answer, the owner asked, “What’s this?” Mr. Schnitzel had noticed the basket of overdone pretzels. Anger colored his plump cheeks. “Maybe you forgot how to make pretzels after all this time? Or maybe you think you can improve on the old monks’ way?” (The first pretzels were made by monks as a reward for children who learned their prayers. The pretzels were soft and breadlike, and they were twisted to represent arms folded in prayer.)
Hermann had not meant to offend anyone. Completely miserable, he was certain that the price of the wasted ingredients would be taken out of his meager salary. He sputtered and stuttered and waved his hands about but could find nothing to say.
He watched Mr. Schnitzel turn a pretzel over and over with disdain, sniff it, and finally take a tiny bite. The crispy morsel broke apart in his hand. He chewed a piece, then another. “Hmmmmmm!” he said at last. “This is not bad, Hermann. Do you think you could make just one batch like this tomorrow? We will see how the customers like crunchy pretzels.”
Hermann nodded his head in disbelief as he watched Mr. Schnitzel fill his pockets with the toasty pretzels to take home to his wife and children.
As soon as the door closed, Hermann danced a little jig. His luck had turned! He had invented something!
Crispy pretzels became a great favorite with everyone, and today there is a wide variety of pretzel shapes and sizes and flavorings. The pretiola of the Italian monks has become a treasured snack the world over.

I don’t remember the exact words I used when I told my bishop that I had decided not to serve a mission. But I remember well his disappointment and the next question he asked me: “Do your parents know what you’ve decided?”
Of course they didn’t know; I hadn’t discussed my decision with anyone. As I left the bishop’s office that day, I thought, “Whew, I’m glad that’s over.”
It wasn’t that I hadn’t been taught the gospel. Our family was very active, I attended all my meetings, and I had graduated from seminary. I’m sure everyone assumed that I would go on a mission.
I was living at home, attending a nearby junior college, and trying to find a job. My hair was long, in the “hippie” fashion of the day, so it was difficult for me to find work. As my hair grew longer, tension grew between my father and me. When he told me to get a haircut, I left the house and spent three days with a friend. My return home without a haircut was my way of showing him that I was going to do as I pleased.
Several ward members mentioned to me that my decision not to go on a mission had broken my parents’ hearts. My church attendance slipped as I began to feel that the adults in our ward disapproved of my attitude and my hair length. (It wasn’t until much later that I learned that they had prayed numerous times for something to happen in my life that would help me find myself.)
When I did attend church, I attended elders quorum meetings, though I had not been ordained an elder. One Sunday morning the elders quorum president said, “We would like to call you to be a home teacher. Will you accept the call?”
Shocked, I said yes.
“Your companion will be Bill Brothers,” he continued.
As soon as I left the building, I began to plan how I could get out of this commitment. Just then Bill Brothers walked over to me. We were about the same age, and I had known him since our days together in Primary.
“Guess we’re going to be home-teaching companions, aren’t we?” Bill asked.
“I guess so,” I acknowledge glumly.
“Why don’t we show the guys in our ward how home teaching should really be done?” he said.
That thought struck me like a thunderbolt. Yes! We would show the men in our ward how home teaching should be done! We would do it better than any of them, and maybe that would silence the criticism about my attitude and my hair. Bill and I decided that the first thing to do was to ask the fathers in the two families assigned to us what they would like us to teach to their families.
Bill made the appointments. I assumed that each father would ask us to teach his children about getting along with each other or some other basic topic—but I was wrong.
“Well, boys,” said Brother Smith, “our family has been trying to read the Book of Mormon. Since our children are fairly young, it is sometimes hard for them to understand what we read. I think it would be great if you could tell us the basic stories from the Book of Mormon in chronological order.”
When we left the Smith home, Bill suggested that we visit the Smiths more than once a month. Bill was leaving on a mission in about three months and wanted to tell all the Book of Mormon stories before he left.
Bill also suggested that we start with the book of Ether, since it was first chronologically. He would give the story of the first half of Ether, and I would do the second half. I had thought this assignment was going to be easy, but now I knew I would have to spend some time preparing. I unenthusiastically agreed to do it.
Just before our first visit, I quickly read over the last part of Ether and hoped I would remember enough to get by. However, as we met with the Smiths, a sweet spirit of gentle anticipation filled the room. I felt embarrassed that I was not as well prepared as Bill, and I left determined to be prepared on our next visit.
Over the next two months, I read the entire Book of Mormon. At first, I read it just so I could tell the story to the Smith family. Soon, however, I began to ask myself, “What if this is really true?”
My view of the world began to change as I learned eternal principles from Nephi, Lehi, and Jacob. When I read of Alma’s prayers concerning his wayward son, Alma the Younger, I understood my parents’ anguish over me. I felt the spirit of Helaman as he wrote of his faithful stripling soldiers, and I wondered if I would have been as courageous as they had been. I read of the Savior’s visit and his teachings. I learned that the Nephites had been destroyed because of their wickedness. Finally, I read in Moroni that we would meet at the Judgment Day and that the Lord would hold us responsible for the words contained in the Book of Mormon. I felt as if Moroni had written that message specifically for me.
Suddenly, I knew the Book of Mormon was true! The seed of faith had been planted within me, and now it had grown until I could scarcely contain it. I wanted to tell everyone I met of the joy I felt in finding out that the Book of Mormon was true, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God, and that the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were true. I wept in gratitude for having received this witness.
I drove over to Bishop Toolson’s house and knocked on the door. He invited me in and asked what he could do for me. Outwardly I didn’t look any different—my hair was longer than ever; yet inwardly, I had experienced a mighty change of heart. The words burst from me: “I want to go on a mission.”
Bishop Toolson smiled and invited me into his living room. He opened his briefcase and pulled out my missionary recommendation form. He had already filled it out completely, except for one box—and that was the first question that he asked me now: “When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible,” I answered. I could hardly wait to go! Bishop Toolson instructed me that I would need to submit a picture of myself—with a proper missionary haircut. I assured him that I would take care of that immediately.
I received my mission call on 4 August 1972. During my mission, I often bore my solemn witness that I knew from my own experience that the Book of Mormon was true. I learned that if we would encourage others to study the Book of Mormon, pray about it, and try to live by its teachings, they, too, would discover the truth of the Book of Mormon.

A highlight for me was Interlochen, located on a lake in Michigan, one of the best music camps in the world for kids. I sent in my application for the eight weeks of intensive music training and couldn’t believe I got accepted.
The only problem was money. It cost thousands of dollars, and there was no way I’d have time to make that much before the deadline. So I prayed and prayed, and about a week before I had to send in the money, I was called into the office of a man who had a grant for someone with a handicap who was pursuing the arts. That, to me, was a miracle, and I’m really grateful for it. Someday, I’m going to help a musician like that.

One day when I was 17 years of age, I came across a former neighbor of mine. He invited me to attend his church the next Sunday because he was to be a speaker in the meeting. It was there he gave his two-and-one-half minute talk, and I met the missionaries for the first time. One year later, I was baptized in the swimming pool of the Hong Kong mission home and became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Prison warden Kenyon J. Scudder related this experience:
A friend of his happened to be sitting in a railroad coach next to a young man who was obviously depressed. Finally the man revealed that he was a paroled convict returning from a distant prison. His imprisonment had brought shame to his family, and they had neither visited him nor written often. He hoped, however, that this was only because they were too poor to travel and too uneducated to write. He hoped, despite the evidence, that they had forgiven him.
To make it easy for them, however, he had written them to put up a signal for him when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If his family had forgiven him, they were to put a white ribbon in the big apple tree which stood near the tracks. If they didn’t want him to return, they were to do nothing; and he would remain on the train as it traveled west.
As the train neared his home town, the suspense became so great he couldn’t bear to look out of his window. He exclaimed, “In just five minutes the engineer will sound the whistle indicating our approach to the long bend which opens into the valley I know as home. Will you watch for the apple tree at the side of the track?” His companion changed places with him and said he would. The minutes seemed like hours, but then there came the shrill sound of the train whistle. The young man asked, “Can you see the tree? Is there a white ribbon?”
Came the reply: “I see the tree. I see not one white ribbon, but many. There is a white ribbon on every branch. Son, someone surely does love you.”
In that instant all the bitterness that had poisoned a life was dispelled. “I felt as if I had witnessed a miracle,” the other man said. Indeed, he had witnessed a miracle. We too can experience this same miracle when we, with hand and heart, as did the Savior, lift and love our neighbor to a newness of life.

I spent Christmas 2012 together with my family in Samoa and experienced my first ever tropical cyclone. The power went out throughout our whole village in Afega on Christmas Eve night, so our family of four used torches and candles to see each other around our kitchen table. We spent the night talking and laughing and crying together. It was the least glamorous Christmas I can remember—we had no presents and no parties, but it is one of my favourite memories because all we could give each other was time.

Rooma didn’t really want to study the scriptures. Vaitiare didn’t really want to go to seminary. And they didn’t have to. But when they chose to, their lives changed.
At the beginning of the school year, Vaitiare Pito wasn’t even a member of the Church. So how did a new member who had never been to seminary before help her team win the Faaa stake scripture mastery championship?
“I wasn’t worried about not having a lot of experience,” she says. “I learned many of those verses during the missionary lessons.”
Most of Vaitiare’s family joined the Church after her father died unexpectedly and the ward mission leader brought the missionaries to Vaitiare’s home. They talked about family unity and being together forever. “It really brought a change to our family,” she says.
However, it didn’t necessarily change the 17-year-old’s independent streak. “After I was baptized, everyone told me I should go to seminary,” she says. “I don’t like being told what to do, so it took me a while to go.”
Eventually she decided for herself to go and found she enjoyed it. She was assigned to be part of the same scripture mastery team as Rooma.
At first she didn’t make an effort to read the scripture assignments. But when she decided she would, she soon recognized a number of blessings.
“The scriptures have been a great help,” she says. “I have learned from the scriptures many things,” including the importance of prayer and that Heavenly Father will answer those prayers.
She also learned that when she decides to commit to something, like going to seminary or reading the scriptures, keeping the commitment is easier than if she does it because she has to or is “supposed” to.
Now that the school year is over, Vaitiare is grateful she chose to go to seminary and study the scriptures: “I know when we read the scriptures, we are blessed.”

The Lord Knew Where to Send Him
Prophets, seers, and revelators assign missionaries under the direction and influence of the Holy Ghost. Inspired mission presidents direct transfers every six weeks and quickly learn that the Lord knows exactly where He wants each missionary to serve.
A few years ago, Elder Javier Misiego, from Madrid, Spain, was serving a full-time mission in Arizona. At that time, his mission call to the United States appeared somewhat unusual, as most young men from Spain were being called to serve in their own country.
At the conclusion of a stake fireside, where he and his companion had been invited to participate, Elder Misiego was approached by a less-active member of the Church who had been brought by a friend. It was the first time this man had been inside a chapel in years. Elder Misiego was asked if he might know a José Misiego in Madrid. When Elder Misiego responded that his father’s name was José Misiego, the man excitedly asked a few more questions to confirm that this was the José Misiego. When it was determined that they were speaking about the same man, this less-active member began to weep. “Your father was the only person I baptized during my entire mission,” he explained and described how his mission had been, in his mind, a failure. He attributed his years of inactivity to some feelings of inadequacy and concern, believing that he had somehow let the Lord down.
Elder Misiego then described what this supposed failure of a missionary meant to his family. He told him that his father, baptized as a young single adult, had married in the temple, that Elder Misiego was the fourth of six children, that all three boys and a sister had served full-time missions, that all were active in the Church, and that all who were married had been sealed in the temple.
The less-active returned missionary began to sob. Through his efforts, he now learned, scores of lives had been blessed, and the Lord had sent an elder from Madrid, Spain, all the way to a fireside in Arizona to let him know that he had not been a failure. The Lord knows where He wants each missionary to serve. …
Elder W. Christopher Waddell of the Seventy

Missionary work is well to the forefront of British seminary students’ minds, though most don’t have to suffer as dramatically as 18-year-old David Clinch in order to go on a mission.
David is a dedicated fourth-year student who works in a factory on a Government Youth Training Scheme. Unfortunately, due to an uneven floor, a trolley load of heavy metal bars fell on his leg last October. As he reached out to fend off the bars, he lost the tips off two fingers and received a severely broken ankle.
David had a priesthood blessing, and in far less time than the doctors predicted, David’s body healed. The bones in the ankle knitted perfectly, and he was mending so fast the doctor prescribed ointment to slow down the finger skin growth.
Despite pain and inconvenience, David kept up with his seminary booklets and accepted the challenge of using the time to learn scriptures. His favourite has become D&C 14:7 about enduring to the end. A surprise blessing was in store. His employers paid enough compensation to allow David to go on a mission next year.