Gospel Story Finder

When he was 24 years old, he prayed one night and felt prompted to read the Bible. He opened it randomly to Isaiah 56:1.
Wilford: “For my salvation is near to come, and my righteousness to be revealed.” I wonder if that means I will soon learn of the true gospel.
Within two years of this inspiration, Wilford had moved to New York, learned about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and been baptized. The Lord had answered his prayers!

But while Pedro’s academic curiosity and craftsmanship would have made him stand out in any community, one other quality made him unique. There have been few characters in the course of written history with whom faith and fact were synonymous. Pedro was one of these.
Even for those of us who use the term daily, faith is a paradox. Conspicuously absent in many who bear its robes, it sometimes finds a more congenial soil under homespun wool and leather thongs.
At any rate Pedro’s faith was both simple and factual. We had bought a diesel engine that generated electricity for our school and church building. A film arrived from Church headquarters depicting the struggles of early pioneers in southern Utah. President Lorenzo Snow, president of the Church at that time, promised the pioneers that a devastating drought would end if they would pay their tithing.
That year Pedro’s village was experiencing a drought. Potatoes and corn were drooping in despair at the rainy season’s slow arrival.
Pedro arrived the morning after the film was shown to pay ten soles (less than 50 cents) in tithing. He then went home and sat on his porch to wait for the rain.
It rained.

I am grateful for people on the earth who love and appreciate little children. A few years ago I found myself late at night on an airplane bulging with passengers going north from Mexico City to Culiacám. The seats in the plane were close together, and every seat was taken, mostly with the gracious people of Mexico. Everywhere inside the plane there were packages and carry-on luggage of all sizes. A young woman came down the aisle with four small children, the oldest of whom appeared to be about four and the youngest a newborn. She was also trying to manage a diaper bag and a stroller and some bags. The children were tired, crying, and fussing. As she found her seat in the airplane, the passengers around her, both men and women, literally sprang to her aid. Soon the children were being lovingly and tenderly comforted and cared for by the other passengers. They were passed from one passenger to another all over the airplane. The result was an airplane full of baby-sitters. The children settled down in the caring arms of those who cradled them and before long went to sleep. Most remarkable was that a few men who were obviously fathers and grandfathers tenderly cradled and caressed the newborn child. The mother was freed from the care of her children most of the flight. The only thing I felt bad about was that no one passed the baby to me! I relearned that appreciation for and thoughtfulness and kindness toward little children are an expression of the Savior’s love for them.

Evan’s inspiration to help orphans living thousands of miles away in China began with his visit to that country in December of 1996. Evan accompanied his parents, Dave and Mary Pressley, when they adopted his little sister, Marianne Kai Yue. “After I got home, I just wanted to help some babies who are not as fortunate as my little sister, who has found a family.” Marianne and Evan have two older brothers, Ben, 19, and Dan, 18.
As a result of traditional prejudice against females, hundreds of girls are abandoned daily in China. Evan’s little sister was one of them. She had been left on a doorstep in a small village when she was only one day old. On a note attached to her clothing was the handwritten date and time of her birth: “April 15, 1996, 9:23 A.M.” Eight months later, when the Pressleys took her home, she weighed only 10 pounds. Poor nutrition is a fact of life for Chinese orphans. Their caregivers are very loving but lack the funds to feed the babies well.
In the spring of 1997, Evan sent a handwritten letter to Lily Nie and Joshua Zhong, directors of the agency the Pressleys went through to adopt Marianne, informing them of his project. His goal was to raise $2,175. He exceeded that goal and came up with a total of $2,418 (and 45 cents). He made a list of specific things he wanted done with that money: repair a child’s cleft palate and lip; buy a heavy-duty washer and dryer; provide enough formula for eight babies for one month; buy a crib and some toys; set up a small children’s health clinic. All this for $2,418! “Money goes a long way in China,” Evan explains.
In August of 1997, Evan hand-delivered the money to Lily and Joshua. And they more than honored his request. Joshua, who affectionately calls this “the Evan Project,” traveled to China last fall with the money and carefully carried out Evan’s itemized list. He even chose the child that would have the cleft palate surgery. The funds went to the Fusan Children’s Welfare House in Liaoning Province in northern China. “There are more than 150 children there,” Evan says, “and 95 percent of them are handicapped. They’ll never be adopted.”
Was Evan’s project easy? “A lot of people turned me down. I almost quit when I knocked on one man’s door and he told me that he wouldn’t contribute. He even admitted that he was hard-hearted!” Very discouraged at this point, he says, “I fasted for 24 hours and prayed. I told Heavenly Father that I really needed to do this, for the babies in China, and would he please help me find people who wanted to give.” Evan’s prayers were answered.
Several articles were published in the newspapers about the Evan Project. Later, Joshua Zhong sent a letter to one newspaper thanking the people of Craig, Colorado, for their support. He also sent a letter to Evan expressing his feelings. “I want to thank and salute you for an incredibly moving and successful fund-raising effort. I am deeply touched by your love for the Chinese children. … You are an amazing kid with a very BIG heart!”
What does this “amazing kid” have in mind for the future? You guessed it. He’s not through helping orphans in China. He’s given it a lot of thought, and he’s getting close to earning his Eagle Scout Award. For his project he’s going to do something like gathering baby formula—lots of it—to send to Chinese orphanages. After all, when you have a BIG heart, it can strrreettch a whole lot to make room for one more Chinese baby … or 50 … or 150.

Each year the program varies from guest speakers to lessons given by family members. One year Grandma Jones gave each family a small book on the Prophet to read prior to the party. They then took turns expressing their feelings about the Prophet and bearing testimonies of the Savior. That was the year one of their less-active sons expressed his love and gratitude to each family member and began coming back to church.

My brothers and sisters, since April’s general conference, some of our missionaries have found themselves in increasingly more difficult circumstances. As the adviser to the South America North Area Presidency, I was saddened, as I know you were, at the news that two faithful missionaries, Elder Todd Ray Wilson and Elder Jeffrey Brent Ball, lost their lives in Bolivia. The deaths of these two righteous young men while they were in the service of the Lord caused the entire Church membership to mourn. We grieve also for other missionaries who have died from illness or accident since the first of the year.
With the permission of President Steven B. Wright of the Bolivia La Paz Mission, I share this special experience that came to him in a dream: “I saw these two elders dressed in white, standing at the doors of a beautiful building. They were greeting numerous people, who also were dressed in white as they entered the building. It was obvious from their dress that those who entered were Bolivians. I envisioned the temple that will someday be built in Bolivia. Elders Wilson and Ball were ushering those they had prepared to receive the gospel in the spirit world into the temple to witness the vicarious ordinances being performed in their behalf. This dream has been a great comfort to me and has helped me to understand and accept their deaths.”

“Tonight for our family home evening activity, we’re going to weed Sister Lee’s garden,” Dad announced at dinner.
Preston liked going to Sister Lee’s house. She had chickens and roosters and yummy berries growing in her garden.
After dinner Preston helped his family load shovels and rakes in the back of the van.
On the drive to Sister Lee’s house, Mom asked, “Why is service so important?”
Preston thought for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure.
“It makes you feel good,” Preston’s older brother said.
“That’s true,” Mom said. “Any other ideas? Does anyone remember the scripture we just memorized together? ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings …’”
The rest of the family joined in. “‘Ye are only in the service of your God’” (Mosiah 2:17).
“That’s right,” Mom said. “It’s from King Benjamin’s speech to his people. Preston, can you think of any other reasons why we serve?”
Preston thought of the comic book he had read that morning, the one about the boy dressed in a cape, saving the world. Superheroes did good things for other people. “Serving is like being a superhero!” he said.
Dad smiled. “You’re right. It is like being a superhero. You’re saving the day when you serve.”
They arrived at Sister Lee’s house. Preston liked the idea of being a superhero. He flew out of the car, grabbed a pair of gloves, and super-sprinted toward the garden.
First Sister Lee showed everyone the new baby chicks. Then the family got to work. There were hundreds and hundreds of weeds. They were the biggest weeds Preston had ever seen!
He imagined those weeds as evil forces, attacking the innocent tomato plants. Using his super strength, it was easy to pull the weeds out of the ground. He could feel his muscles getting stronger as he shook the dirt loose from the roots and threw the weeds in a pile.
Some of the weeds were too tough to pull by hand. Preston pulled out his super-power shovel, the one with the red blade. He jumped on the back with both his feet. The blade sunk deep into the dirt, and weeds came out even faster. The pile of pulled weeds grew until it was almost as tall as Preston!
Finally Sister Lee said, “That’s great! Come pick some berries, and then we’ll have a treat.”
Preston’s superhero strength was almost gone. With the last of his energy, he helped pick gooseberries, raspberries, and currants. Then Sister Lee brought out three different ice-cream flavors. Preston chose chocolate.
They were tired, but Preston felt good inside.
“Thank you so much for your service,” Sister Lee said. “You did in one hour what would have taken me a whole week.”
Preston smiled and licked his ice-cream cone.
Having super powers not only felt great. It tasted great too!

“I am so grateful for the Personal Progress program. I know that it has changed my life for the better. When you think of seven 10-hour projects, it seems like a lot, and you can get discouraged. But when you work on the projects one at a time, before you know it, you’re done with another project and can move on to the next.
“For one of my Personal Progress projects, I helped Grandpa clean his house. This was hard at first, but after a while it didn’t seem like a chore. As we worked, we really enjoyed talking to each other and got to know each other better. I’m glad I was able to strengthen my relationship with my grandpa. I really enjoy Personal Progress.”Tara Lunt, 16Duncan Ward, Duncan Arizona Stake

A true story from Canada.
Taylor helped Mom carry the supplies for the Primary activity toward the park. The sun was warm on her face, and the grass in the park was green again. It felt so good to be outside!
Spring was one thing that reminded her that Heavenly Father loved her. Taylor liked to look for God’s love in all things—like a blue sky or getting to see her friends at the Primary activity.
Taylor followed Mom to where the other Primary leaders were setting up games for the kids.
Sister Kingsley waved and said, “Jane is coming!”
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“Who’s Jane?” Taylor asked.
“She’s a new girl we invited. We hope you and the other kids can help her feel welcome,” Mom said.
Taylor felt a worried knot in her stomach. Talking to new people was hard for her. She wanted to be kind. But what if the new girl didn’t like her?
Soon, everyone arrived, including a girl Taylor didn’t know.
“Welcome to our Primary activity!” Sister Kingsley said. She put her hand on the new girl’s shoulder. “This is Jane. She’s joining us today. We hope everyone has fun playing together at the park.”
“Can we play grounders?” asked one of the Primary kids.
“Yes, please!” Taylor shouted.
She was so excited! Grounders was her favorite game. Taylor raced with the other kids to the playground. Then Taylor stopped when she saw Jane standing alone.
Heavenly Father had given her this beautiful and special day. She wanted to enjoy it, and she wanted Jane to enjoy it too. Taylor’s insides felt shaky, but she took a deep breath and walked back to Jane.
“Hi. I’m Taylor.”
“Hi.” Jane smiled a little, but she seemed nervous.
“Have you played grounders before?” Taylor asked.
Jane shook her head.
Taylor knew what it was like to be nervous about new things.
“It’s really fun!” Taylor said. “The person who is ‘it’ keeps their eyes closed while they try to tag someone on the playground equipment. Everyone else can run around. But if the person who is ‘it’ yells ‘grounders!’ then whoever’s feet are still on the ground is ‘it.’”
Jane still looked nervous.
“Do you want to stay by me for a little while?” Taylor asked.
Jane smiled. “Yes!”
Taylor and Jane walked to the playground. As they climbed to the top, other kids said hi to Jane. Jane stayed near Taylor at first, but soon the other kids were helping Jane too. For the rest of the Primary activity, Taylor and all the other kids talked to Jane. By the end, Taylor no longer felt nervous, and she was pretty sure Jane didn’t either.
“Does anyone want an ice pop?” Mom said as she opened a cooler.
After all the running and playing, Taylor felt happy to sit with her friends and cool off. When Jane went home, Taylor and the other kids said goodbye to her.
Soon it was just Taylor, her mom, and the other leaders. Taylor picked up ice pop wrappers and put them in a trash bag.
“I’m so proud of you,” Mom said. “You and your friends shared Heavenly Father’s love with Jane today.”
Taylor thought about that. Even though she usually looked for ways Heavenly Father showed His love for her, today was different. Today, she’d been the one showing His love.
How do you feel God’s love? How can you share His love with a friend?
Illustration by Hollie Hibbert

Some years ago I served as a naval aviator aboard a large aircraft carrier, the USS Philippine Sea. The carrier was operating off the coast of Korea and would stay out at sea for about thirty days at a time.
Supplies were brought to us by other ships. These cargo vessels would pull up alongside our carrier and, while both ships were underway, would send food, mail, repair parts, and other supplies over to us by cables. Sometimes the containers broke open, and the contents would spill out onto the hangar deck of the aircraft carrier.
One day I walked past an area where fresh fruit was being unloaded. A carton of oranges had been slightly damaged, and a big beautiful orange fell out and rolled right across the deck to me. I picked it up and continued on my way down to the pilot’s ready room, where a number of my squadron mates were sitting around reading their mail that had just come aboard from the supply ship.
As I entered the room, all of my friends saw the orange. Fresh fruit was a very scarce item aboard ship, and I could tell that their mouths were watering for a taste of my fresh juicy orange. Pretending that I did not notice them, I peeled the orange, broke it in half, and then counted the sections. There were just enough orange sections to give each of them two, and so I divided the orange equally among my six friends, who expressed their gratitude.
A short time later someone came in the door and shouted, “Hey, a whole case of oranges has been dropped on the hangar deck, and oranges are all over the floor!” Out my friends ran.
Soon they returned, each proudly carrying an orange. They all peeled their oranges, and to my great surprise, each one gave me four sections in return for the two sections I had given him. I actually ended up with enough sections to make two whole oranges after they had all shared with me.
As I thanked them I had an opportunity to learn a very plain gospel principle.
I did not share my orange with the thought of receiving a reward. But it is never possible for us to do something nice or generous for someone else without being rewarded somehow for what we have done. The Bible tells us, “Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days” (Eccl. 11:1). Sometimes we do not have to wait “many days”—we are rewarded immediately.
The Lord said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40). The Lord loves all of us, and He delights to see His children showing love and kindness and tenderness to each other. “Oh, there’s One who smiles on high, when there’s love at home” (Hymn no. 169).

Marta worked the pump handle one final time. Then she carried the grapefruit soda bottle full of water into the two-room house, located on the outskirts of a small coastal town in Uruguay. “The water’s awfully bitter today, Alicia,” Marta said, handing the bottle to her younger sister. “You’d better squeeze a lemon into it to freshen it.”
Alicia selected one of the wrinkled lemons from a bowl on the shelf, cut it in half, and the tingly aroma filled the room as she trickled the juice into the bottle of water. “We didn’t get any fresh bread today,” Alicia complained. “Can’t we buy some for dinner?”
“No, Alicia,” said Mama, turning slightly on her bed to face the girls. “The bread from yesterday will do fine if Marta toasts it, won’t it, Marta?”
“Yes, Mama.” Marta moved the kerosene burner they used for a stove into the middle of the room. “It’s getting dark, Mama, should I turn on the light?”
“Not yet, querida (dear). Wait until your father gets home.”
Marta cleared off the plank table that stood in the middle of the small room and began preparing supper. She mixed eggs and flour and shredded chard together. Alicia huddled close to the burner, warming her hands and watching Marta’s skillful hands pat the chard cakes into shape and place them into the frying pan to be warmed and browned. “Don’t fret so, Alicia, tomorrow we’ll go to the panadería (bakery) and buy the fresh crusty loaves you love.”
Alicia smiled at the thought of the large golden brown rolls the panadería baked fresh every morning. She glanced dreamily out the window just as her father entered the front gate. “Papa’s home!” she shouted gleefully.
Papa came into the house and gathered the girls into his arms and gave them each a kiss on the cheek. “And how have you been today? Have you taken good care of your mother?”
“They have been angels, as always,” Mama said as she took Papa’s hand.
Papa reached up and pulled the dangling string that turned on their only light. “And how is dinner coming?” he asked. “I’m very hungry!”
“It will be just a minute, Papa,” Marta said as she set out the plates and cups. Papa and the girls sat on the narrow bench and ate, facing the bed where Mama lay.
“When do you go to the doctor again?” Papa asked as he handed Mama her dinner plate.
“On Friday,” she replied. “It won’t be long now until the baby is ready to come.”
“This baby is having such problems in getting here that it will be all the stronger for having made it. But you must stay in bed as the doctor said,” Papa warned.
Just then someone clapped outside. Marta rose to go and welcome the visitor. “Wait, Marta,” her father said, “I’ll go. It’s starting to rain and I don’t want you to get wet.” He grabbed his jacket and held it over his head as he ran out to the front gate. “Hello, Omar!” he called. “Come in out of the storm.”
“No thank you, Daniel. I just came to tell you that the station manager called our house and left a message for you. He wants you to go back to work as soon as you can. Someone drove a car right through a railroad crossing barrier, and they need you to direct the traffic.”
Papa grimaced a little. “One day, Omar, we will get our own telephone and then you won’t have to be the one to always bring me the news.” Omar grinned, then hurried off down the muddy road toward his own home.
“Who was it?” Mama asked when Papa reentered the house.
“Omar. I have to go back to work.” He put on his jacket that was already shedding streams of rainwater and then topped it with a light plastic cape. “I’ll probably be all night. Keep the windows shut tight, Marta, and make certain that you stuff rags in the window jamb over Mama’s bed if the rain starts coming in.”
“Yes, Papa,” Marta answered. Papa kissed each one goodbye, grabbed an ancient umbrella from the corner of the room, and was gone.
Marta began heating water to wash the dishes, and Alicia sat on the bed next to her mother. “Can I do anything for you, Mama?”
“I’m fine, Alicia, but you could get me my medicine.”
Startled, Marta dropped a fork. “Oh, Mama!” she cried. “I meant to pick up your medicine, but I forgot.”
Mama looked out the window at the billowing black clouds. “It will have to wait until tomorrow then.”
“No, Mama. I’ll go and get the medicine now,” she insisted.
“It is dark and raining much too hard, Marta. Besides, it’s Tuesday, so only the pharmacy on the Avenida de Los Treinty y Tres (Avenue of the Thirty-three) will be open late. That is much too far for you to go on such a stormy night.”
How could I have forgotten something so important as Mama’s medicine? Marta agonized.
“Come here, querida,” Mama motioned to Marta and then enfolded her in her arms. “Don’t worry. You have had much to do while I’ve been in bed. It has been a lot to ask of a daughter who is only eleven years old.”
Marta left her mother’s embrace and quietly finished the dishes. Afterward she checked the window above her mother’s bed and found some rainwater seeping in. She got some rags and stuffed them into the cracks. Just as she finished her task, the light went out.
“It’s just as well,” said Mama. “It’s time for my two children to go to bed anyway.”
The girls kissed Mama goodnight, then went into the second room of the house where they slept. “Don’t worry, Marta,” said Alicia. “We’ll get the medicine first thing in the morning. Mama will be all right.”
Marta only nodded and then crept into bed. What if Mama gets sick because I forgot the medicine? she worried. And maybe even dies. After sleeping fitfully for several hours, Marta suddenly awoke. Someone was calling her name. It was Mama! Marta struggled out of the entangling blankets and ran into the next room. “What is it?” she asked, staring at the drawn white face of her mother.
“The baby. I need help, Marta,” Mama gasped.
Without taking time to think, Marta headed for the front door. At the same moment Alicia shuffled into the room and collided with her.
“Where are you going, Marta?”
“To Omar’s. He can telephone and get an ambulance for Mama. You stay here with her.” And Marta rushed out the door. She did not take time to put on her sandals and the road was a muddy mire. Every few steps Marta slipped and often fell, covering herself with a fresh coat of mud. Stray dogs whined at the wind from behind the bushes at the side of the road, but only once did one brave the rain and come far enough into the street for Marta to see his bared teeth as he gave a long throaty growl. But even this did not slow Marta’s pace.
It seemed as though it took much longer to get to Omar’s house than it usually did. When Marta finally reached the gate she clapped her hands loudly but no one came. She pushed through the gate and began pounding furiously on the door. Awakened by the racket, Omar opened the door and stared sleepily at the small mud elf before him.
“Call an ambulance for Mama. Quick!” Marta cried, tugging at his sleeve.
Omar reached down and wiped some of the mud from Marta’s face. “Marta! Come in.” The worried girl waited inside until Omar had called the hospital, and then she quickly slipped back out into the night.
Marta arrived home a few minutes before the ambulance came and sat on the bed holding her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry about the medicine, Mama. Please be all right.”
“Everything will be fine, Marta, you’ll see.” But then Mama started to moan again and could say no more.
Omar arrived at the same time as the ambulance. “I will go with your mother to the hospital,” he said. “When I know that she is being taken care of, I will go tell your father. Can you both be very brave and stay here alone?” Marta nodded and grasped Alicia’s cold hand more firmly.
After the ambulance left, the two girls huddled together on top of Mama’s bed and waited. It didn’t take long for Alicia to fall asleep. After Marta had tucked a quilt around her sister, she gently cried as she wondered about Mama. Finally her quiet tears and the sound of the wind lulled her to sleep.
It was late in the morning when Alicia woke at the sound of the door opening. “Oh, Papa! I’m so glad you’re home. How’s Mama?”
Marta stirred and smiled at the comforting sight of her father. But then lowered her eyes to the floor. “Oh, Papa, I have been so terrible. I didn’t get Mama’s medicine and that is why she got so sick.”
Papa sat down on the bed between the two girls and held them tightly. “Your Mama’s fine. Her suffering had nothing to do with your forgetting the medicine. The baby just decided to come a little sooner than we had expected. I’m proud of my two daughters and the way they helped out. I know it wasn’t an easy time for you. And now I have one more thing I would like you to do.”
“What’s that, Papa?” asked Marta.
“I would like you to help teach your new brother to be just as good and helpful as both of you are.”

When I came home for a quick weekend visit, I asked Todd about his adventure. He was kind of quiet until he started talking about his mission and the money he’d saved. When I asked him about his job, I was surprised at his answer.

“The fun house? Oh, I quit that.”

I felt a little let down. So much for the new-and-improved Todd who was sticking to hard jobs.

“How come?” I asked.

“Well, I was working a lot of Sundays, and I realized my priorities were out of whack. I mean, Jolene only ever looked at me like I was a reflection of one of those fun house mirrors, you know, with eight-foot legs and no body or a giant forehead and hardly any face. And I was like that. I was only thinking about entertaining myself, not about anyone else.”

I smiled. It was the new-and-improved Todd.

“I guess my nursery kids taught me about being concerned about others and sharing. I should have figured this out years ago. Guess I’m a slow learner,” he said, grinning at me.

I said, only half sarcastically, “Todd, who knew you were such a lovely human being?” I punched him in the shoulder.

The audience cheered as the large clock at the front of the stage neared the 22-hour mark. The teens in the Ottawa Ontario Stake youth choir were exhausted. After all, they had been singing for almost an entire day.
Finally, the clock read 22 hours and three minutes. The 53 young men and young women had just broken the world record for the longest concert performed by a choir.
Even though the record was officially broken, the youth didn’t stop singing. They had a hymn to finish. They filled the gym with the jubilant strains of the fourth verse of “The Spirit of God” (Hymns, no. 2).
The quest to break a world record began as an idea from Ben Lowater, a counselor in the Young Men presidency in the Riverside Ward. Brother Lowater gets the book Guinness World Records every year as a Christmas gift, and when he saw the entry for longest choir concert, he knew it was a record the Ottawa youth could break.
The youth were excited about his idea. Riley Jones, 17, says, “I always wanted to be a world-record holder. But before this activity, I could never figure out what record I could break.”
But in the end, the teens gained more from the activity than a spot in the record book. For their record-breaking concert, the youth sang all 341 Church hymns, and they even learned to sing some of their favorite hymns in parts. The choir began practicing for the concert two months in advance so they could learn the hymns they weren’t familiar with.
The youth were even given a CD so they could listen to all the unfamiliar hymns at home or in the car. Katarina de Savigny, 15, is a country music fan, but because of her experience with the choir, she has been switching her favorite country CDs for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
Spring Pruner, 18, says she learned to love a lot of hymns that she hadn’t heard before. Of the new hymns she was introduced to, her favorite is “The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close” (Hymns, no. 37). She says, “I sort of found hymns bland before, but as I got to learn them, I got to like them.”
Kenny Kyle, who plays the piano in priesthood meeting, says that learning all the songs in the hymnbook will help him on his mission. He also says the youth choir helped the youth in the Ottawa stake get to know each other better. “We grew a lot closer together because of this experience,” he says.
The Ottawa youth are different because of their experience with the stake choir. Some have cut down on the rock, country, or rap music they listen to. Many say they have a greater appreciation for the hymns of the Church, and several youth even joined their ward choirs.
What’s the reason for all of these changes? As chorister Rachelle Wride explains, “When you have taken part in a choir that sang hymns for 22 hours, you don’t look at the hymnbook the same way anymore.”

Another pair of siblings, Bich Thuy and her brother Tuan, were literally launched on their new life by their mother. Eight years after South Vietnam’s surrender, the family decided the two youngest children must leave and attempt to join the older children who had left earlier. Their LDS father was still in a “reeducation camp,” and their mother was unwilling to leave without him. For her children, however, she knew a better life was possible. She took her two children to the ocean, put them on a small fishing boat loaded with others also seeking a better life, and like the mother of Moses who set her baby adrift in a basket, committed her children into the currents and prayed that God would watch over them.
Prior to her departure, Bich Thuy, now 20, had been an accomplished pianist trained in the finest Saigon music schools. Her delicate hands have since known many hardships. As those same hands were raised to bid farewell, she wondered if she would ever see her mother’s face again. She wonders still.
For Bich Thuy and her brother, Tuan, who last saw their mother two years ago when she bade them farewell, life in America, although fulfilling in many ways, nevertheless holds a certain emptiness. Bich Thuy is attending a community college in Los Angeles while also working at a music store. Tuan is in high school. Five older brothers and sisters who preceded them in coming to America are also in California. But the emptiness lingers because their father, until recently, was being held in a work camp while their mother struggled to maintain their home. These parents would like to join their children in America, but their hopes are dim. In the meantime, the children they sent to America send them back what money and supplies they can. They are one of about 16 known LDS families in similar circumstances still in Vietnam.

When I was a child, my dad worked far away and always came home when it was pitch dark. I would stay awake until he came home. But one day he was very late, and I couldn’t reach him on the phone. I was very scared. I remembered that my parents had taught me to pray always and to ask for help whenever I was scared, so I knelt down and prayed that my father would return home safely. To my surprise, as I ended my prayer, I heard my dad’s bike outside. I was so grateful to my Heavenly Father for watching over my father.

Elder José A. Teixeira recalls a lesson he learned as a young boy in Portugal. During a family reunion, he sneaked away to go fishing. He felt he should tell his parents where he was going, but he decided not to because they were busy talking.
Hours later, his worried parents found him at the riverbank. From that experience, he learned to obey not only his parents but also the whisperings of the Holy Ghost.
Since then, Elder Teixeira has made a habit of heeding the still, small voice. He and his family were introduced to the gospel in 1976, after Portugal was opened to missionary work. He was baptized at age 16 and later served as a missionary in the Lisbon Portugal Mission.

You’d have to have been me that day, lying on my bunk bed, before you could feel how I wanted a dog. I’d sneaked into the house and was lying there for about an hour before Mother knew. She stood in my bedroom doorway for a minute or so before she came over and lay down beside me and asked, “What’s the matter, son?”

Sometimes you can say, “Oh, nothing,” when Mother asks that. And other times you can’t. This was one of those other times. It was as if she had her arms around me and was looking into my eyes with all her might. Only she was just lying there beside me, waiting.

So I told her all about how I’d got into a fight up at Barney’s, and Tom and Scott said if I couldn’t play fair I could just go home. So I went. Talking about it to my mom made me cry. So while I was at it I told her what the real trouble was. “All this wouldn’t have happened,” I bawled, “if I only had a dog.”

Mother didn’t ask me whether or not I’d really been playing fair and what a dog had to do with it. She just lay there very still and listened. So I said some more. I told her that I hated school and that nobody liked me. I asked her how she would like to be seven years old and dumb and ugly and awkward and have people laugh at her when she used big words. I said I didn’t fit in this world anyplace, and God must have sent me to the wrong planet. The more I talked the more things I thought of. It was as wild and wonderful as any of my stories about Joey, and I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed howling so loud and feeling so miserable. Finally, I blurted out something I hadn’t really meant to say. “Besides,” I yelled, “There’s no such thing as Joey!”

Mother’s eyes filled with tears, and I was so sorry. I stopped crying right off and said quickly, “Please don’t tell Daddy—he’d be just sick.” That was a lucky thing to say because it made Mother smile right through her tears. And it struck me that this was the time to ask about a dog.

“Mother,” I said, wiping my eyes, “I’ll do anything in all my life if you’ll only get me a dog. I’ll do housecleaning forever. I’ll practice my piano lesson night and day. I’ll never ask for any more candy. I’ll do anything!” I was trying hard not to cry again because my mom never gives us what we bawl for. “I need a dog to love,” I whispered, “and most of all I need a dog to love me back.”

Mother started to explain once more about dogs in the city, and when she got to where she says that Tom and Scott had both wanted dogs, my mind was jumping with words, and I hoped the right ones would come out. And they did. They were magic words that changed everything.

“Mother,” I said, “I’m Rulon. And I’m a different kind of boy.”

She stopped right in the middle of what she was saying, and this time she did put her arms around me and looked into my eyes with all her might. She looked for so long I could hardly breathe. Then she said quietly, “Rulon, we will get you a dog.”

We got him the next day at a pet shop—a brown and white Pomeranian puppy, round and furry, with great, dark eyes and a waggly tail. You should have seen Tom and Scott when we brought him home.

“Spoiled kid! How come Rulon gets a dog?” they said almost together.

Mother seemed baffled for an answer, so I tried the words that had worked once before.

“Because I’m a different kind of boy,” I answered.

Their mouths dropped open. And they just stood there staring at me and my pup. Then Scott said to Tom, “He can say that again.” And they both snickered. So I did say it again.

“I’m a different kind of boy,” I sang out, “and Joey is a different kind of dog. He’s really mine. All mine. But you can pet him. And maybe when you say three times, ‘There’s such a thing as Joey’ he will be your dog too.”

They weren’t snickering anymore. They were laughing a real laugh, and I laughed too all the while they were saying, “There’s such a thing as Joey. There’s such a thing as Joey. There’s such a thing as Joey.”

I used to have nightmares every night after hearing a scary story at Scout camp. I was very scared—it was hard to go to sleep. I prayed every night for Heavenly Father to help me, but I still had nightmares. Then one night I told my dad. I was shaking a little when I told him because it scared me to talk about it. We said a prayer together. Dad suggested I sing a Church hymn to myself, because I share a room with my brother. My favorite hymn is “There Is a Green Hill Far Away” (Hymns, no. 194). Every night after that I wasn’t scared, and I stopped having nightmares. In my personal prayers every night I ask Heavenly Father to continue helping me with my fears, and I still sing my favorite hymn to myself every night.

We had a strong group of young men in our ward, but our son Matthew gravitated to a nonmember who shared his love for cars and anything mechanical. Unfortunately, this young man came from a family that did not value religion. His parents allowed drinking and smoking in their home and didn’t believe that being morally clean was important.
Matthew had earned the top rank in Scouting, but he did not participate in the awards meeting because he had stopped living Scouting standards. I gathered all his Scouting awards and made a display case. Then I put it away, hoping that one day it would be of value to him. By the time he was 16, Matthew was smoking, drinking, and doing drugs. He dropped out of school and moved in with his girlfriend. For a couple of years, we rarely saw him.
We were devastated. We didn’t know if he would ever return to his family and faith, but we decided to follow Alma’s example in dealing with his wayward son. Alma continued to love his son and prayed with faith that he would “be brought to the knowledge of the truth” (Mosiah 27:14).
We prayed constantly that the Lord would intervene in Matthew’s life, and we took every opportunity to express by word and action how much we loved him. When he would come home, we did not say anything he might interpret as criticism or judgment. We simply expressed our joy at seeing him.
One day Matthew came home and said he wanted to talk. He said he had met a girl at a party who had questions about the Church. Before he could tell her that he no longer knew the answers, words started coming out of his mouth. He found himself answering her questions as fast as she asked them. Matthew said he did not remember having learned the things he spoke, but he knew his words were true. He wondered why he was living as he was when he still believed the gospel.
After three days of soul-searching, he decided to leave behind the life he had been leading. He had come home to ask for help in starting over.
Matthew called a cousin in another state who had overcome similar difficulties and asked if he could stay with him. His cousin agreed, and Matthew began attending Church meetings with him and met with the bishop to get help with the repentance process. He felt love and support and became active in the Church.
In time he met a lovely, righteous young woman. They fell in love and were married in the temple.
When their first child was born, I came for a visit and brought the display case I had made of his Scouting awards. He was thrilled and proudly hung it in a prominent place in his home.
An angel did not appear to our son, as had happened to Alma the Younger. But Matthew’s return to the truth was just as miraculous.

Thank you for sharing “A Year on Temple Square” in your magazine and online at friend.lds.org. My family has enjoyed it so much that we decided to spend a day on Temple Square during a recent trip to Utah. We got to see the temple where our mom and dad were married. We also toured the Beehive House and talked to the sister missionaries. Our favorite part was seeing the Christus statue and watching videos about how families can be together forever. We had so much fun!