Gospel Story Finder

My wife, Jean, and I had prayed that October morning in 1986 that we would be led to someone we could influence for good. When I received the message that afternoon to visit a man about an insurance problem, I made no connection between the assignment and our prayer. But that is how I met Larry.
Early in our visit I learned that Larry had also knelt that day, asking Heavenly Father to send someone to help him. Larry had recently been arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol and had lost his driving privileges until he took a driving course. These humiliating events brought him to kneel at the end of his living room couch.
As we talked, a special relationship quickly developed between us. I discovered some interesting facts about Larry. He was 82 and a member of the Church, but he had not been active for 60 years. His wife had died three years earlier without joining the Church. He lived in my ward, but apparently no one knew he was a member. The ward had no record of him.
I lost no time in asking if he would like to go to church with my wife and me the next Sunday. He agreed. I explained that since he had lost his driving privileges, he had no need for insurance at the moment. I offered to drive him places when he needed a ride.
When we picked him up the following Sunday, Jean took an instant liking to him, as I had. Larry, who walked with a cane, had a noticeable limp, so he rose with difficulty when I introduced him in priesthood meeting. He surprised me by telling the brethren how grateful he was to be there. As we drove him home later, he commented that he had enjoyed the meetings and the people. He said he would like to go to church the next week.
Each time I visited him, I learned more about his life. He was born in Ephraim, Utah, and could remember being baptized as a boy. He had been ordained a deacon by his uncle. I reported this information to the bishop and asked that Larry’s Church records be requested from Salt Lake City. In the meantime, Jean and I received permission to teach Larry gospel lessons in his home.
He finished reading the Book of Mormon we gave him in what seemed record time. So I suggested he read it again because it would mean more the second time. We also gave him a Doctrine and Covenants and Pearl of Great Price to aid his study.
We continued the lessons and took him to church with us for several weeks. Then one Sunday morning the bishop stopped Larry and me on our way to priesthood class and said, “Larry, we can’t find your records.” I made a lighthearted remark about his possibly needing to be rebaptized.
Something about the situation offended Larry. As we came out of the high priests group meeting, he looked me in the eye and said, “Don, I will never set foot in this church again. And when I make a promise like this, I keep it.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “The bishop doesn’t want me here and says I don’t belong here, and I won’t be back,” he added.
He wanted me to take him home. During the drive, I tried to explain that he must have misunderstood what the bishop meant. When Larry got out of the car, I asked if we could still give him a lesson that week; he said no. I was sick inside for several days.
Wanting to do something, I decided to call Church headquarters to check on Larry’s records. The record of his ordination as a deacon was located immediately, but the woman who helped me could not find his baptismal record. She told me to call back in two days. By then, she had also located the baptismal record and was sending a membership record to our ward.
I was elated! Now I had a reason to go see Larry. He was thrilled to receive the dates of his baptism and ordination and to renew our friendship. My hopes of helping him back into activity were rekindled.
About this time, Larry found he needed surgery to have his hip replaced. I asked him if he would like a priesthood blessing beforehand.
“What’s a blessing?” he asked.
I explained, and Larry said he would like one, so I called the bishop to help. The bishop pronounced the blessing. Larry has remarked many times since about the warm sensation that passed through his body and about the peaceful feeling that remained with him through his operation and quick recovery.
When he was released from the hospital, he convalesced at home, with daily visits from a home health-care nurse. I also visited him daily, as did others. Sisters from our ward brought in meals for a week.
During the three or four weeks of Larry’s recovery, we had ample opportunity to learn more of each other. Many times he expressed gratitude for the help given him. I learned of his strong love for the Church, for the bishop, and for the members who had visited him.
I could see that it was time to help Larry come back to Church meetings. He responded to my wife’s invitation and began attending. The test of his resolve came one weekend when Jean and I had to attend a stake conference out of town. I asked Larry if I could get someone to take him to church, and he replied, “No, I believe I’ll stay home this Sunday.” That was a disappointment! As soon as we returned, we visited him and learned that a neighbor had asked if he could take Larry to church that day. Larry had gone with him. Once again, the Spirit had intervened to help.
Larry’s experiences strengthened our testimonies as we saw the hand of God move in his life. This once-forgotten man was led out of darkness into light. He has said many times that since we met, he has never had a desire to have an alcoholic drink, even though drinking had been a long-standing habit for him.
Because Larry’s record had remained clean during the period his driver’s license was suspended, his driving privileges were restored without further action. After his license came in the mail, he told me, “You won’t have to pick me up for church. I’ll meet you there.”
Not long afterward, he was ordained a high priest. It seemed the right time to bring up the idea of going to the temple.
The temple, of course, had come up in the lessons we had taught in his home. One day I had taken Larry to the cemetery to retrieve some wreaths from the grave of his wife, Billie. I was surprised to see an engraving of the Salt Lake Temple on her headstone. He explained that although he had not been active in the Church at the time of her death, it had seemed to him then that the engraving of the temple “ought to be there.”
So when I raised the subject of taking him to the temple for his own endowment, it was gratifying but not surprising to hear him say, “Yes, I want to go.” I asked if he wanted me to talk to the bishop about preparing him to go. “No, Don,” he replied. “I believe I should start standing on my own. I’ll talk to the bishop Sunday.”
It was a beautiful summer morning when Jean and I picked Larry up for the drive to the Salt Lake Temple. We later learned that he had lived in Salt Lake City as a young man, had seen the temple many times, and had wished someday to go there. Once inside, he was awestruck by the ever-increasing beauty of each room. The kindness and love of the temple workers warmed him. “If heaven is like this,” he said later, “that is where I want to go.”
Larry has been an inspiration to me, and he moves me to be better. He is kind and caring and has a knack for complimenting people. He is a young man for his years, with a positive outlook. It has been a privilege to know him.

Shauna Squires, formerly of the Crescent First Ward, Sandy Utah Crescent South Stake, and her horse Poplar’s Lightning had been together through many rodeos and competitions, and winning was familiar to both of them. Still, being crowned Miss Appaloosa America for 1978 was an unexpected honor for Shauna. And of course, Poplar’s Lightning, who had been judged the champion performance horse in both the Utah and Arizona state competitions, was with her. Shauna was a freshman at BYU when she received the honor over 27 other girls in national competition in Billings, Montana. Last September, however, she relinquished her title for another one when she became Mrs. Mike Smith in the Salt Lake Temple.

Illustration by Gabriele Cracolici
I met Natalie on the first day of sixth grade. I noticed that she wouldn’t hang out on Sundays and that she carried her scriptures around at school. One day I was at a carnival with Natalie, and I said, “I want to join your Church.” I’m not sure what Natalie was thinking at the time, because it came out of nowhere. But from that point on she began sharing more of her faith with me.
Later that year, I went with Natalie to a youth conference. One of the last activities at the youth conference was a testimony meeting. Natalie shared a special testimony that motivated me to want to learn more.
As I studied the gospel, I prayed to Heavenly Father to gain a testimony. Soon, I knew what I had been learning was true. That summer, I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Later, a friend asked me what baptism is. I shared with her things I love about the gospel of Jesus Christ and the happiness I’ve found in the Savior. My friend loves soccer, so I worked with my class presidency to plan a soccer activity to invite her to. And Natalie and I studied the Book of Mormon with her through FaceTime.
“As you strive to love your friends in the way the Savior does, you’re inviting them to come to Him.”
At first, helping my friend felt like a big responsibility—saying the right things so she understood or inviting her to the right activities. But I realized it’s not about converting but rather loving. If you have good intentions and righteous desires, then anything you do to participate in Heavenly Father’s work is going to be considered a success. As you strive to love your friends in the way the Savior does, you’re inviting them to come to Him.
When I switched to a new school in sixth grade, a girl named Hannah ate lunch with me and introduced me to new friends. But I never realized that, at the same time, I was helping introduce her to principles of the gospel.
One day Hannah and I were at a carnival together. Out of the blue, she told me she wanted to join the Church. To say I was surprised is an understatement. My first thought was, “I’m not sure if she knows how big of a commitment it is.”
I wasn’t sure what to do, but my parents said, “She’s interested in the gospel. You should invite her to ward camp.” I thought it might be overwhelming for Hannah to spend the entire week with us and meet so many new people. But I took their advice and invited her to camp and to youth conference.
During a testimony meeting at youth conference, I felt like Hannah needed to hear my testimony, even though public speaking is one of my biggest fears. Hannah knew I was afraid, and she admired the fact that I was willing to share because I believed in the gospel.
I’m an overthinker, so whenever I considered inviting Hannah to things, I thought, “She’s going to think I’m pressuring her into joining the Church.” But I knew this was an irrational fear. People like to be invited to things. As time went on, I was more comfortable with sharing how I felt. I learned that sharing the gospel is about love.
“Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony.”
There’s so much joy in sharing the things you love and cherish the most. Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony. I saw the difference that the Savior made for Hannah, and it helped me recognize the difference He makes for me.
The authors are from Hawaii, USA.
Since writing this article, both Natalie and Hannah decided to serve missions! Natalie recently received a call to serve in the Texas San Antonio Mission, and Hannah began her service in the California San Jose Mission.

By all appearances, Elder Clark* was an ideal missionary. He was obedient, baptized and confirmed many people, and was loved by his companions and Church members. During the last few months of his mission he served as my assistant in the mission office. So when I saw him following his mission I was surprised when he confided that he had had a very difficult time at the beginning of his mission. He was homesick, frustrated with learning the language, and having difficulty with the missionary schedule and rules. However, he knew he had been called by the Lord to serve his mission and that the Lord would support him. So he knelt to talk to the Lord, sharing his concerns and pleading for His help in overcoming them. “As I did this,” Elder Clark told me, “I felt a real change in my being. I felt the Lord’s support and strength. Ideas and good feelings came to me, and I began to overcome my negative concerns. With God’s help, I became a successful missionary.”

President Kasue immediately obtained a copy of the registration document and took it to the assistant chief of Chyulu Village to assure the rights of the Church to operate legally. The Saints could now meet without fear, and their membership soon increased to about 40. They needed a place to meet, but a mission had not yet been established and no meetinghouse was provided. The members built a small bower on President Kasue’s land.
In July 1991 the Kenya Nairobi Mission was organized with Larry Brown as president. Soon he and Sister Brown made a visit to Chyulu. “Although the trip was grueling, it was worth it!” says President Brown. “I remember that the sacrament meeting was held in the bower, but it was raining and the ground inside was wet. Before the priesthood holders knelt down to bless the sacrament, they threw an old sack on the mud. The next time we went, I happened to look in the sacrament trays, and there were only two small pieces of crackers. … They broke those crackers up. There were 63 people there, and I didn’t think those crackers would ever go around, but they did. It was like feeding the 5,000.”7

When Jessica attended an Especially for Youth program at Ricks College, no one except her close friends knew who her grandfather was. In one class, the teacher asked if any of those attending had met any of the General Authorities or President Hinckley. Jessica did not raise her hand. It wasn’t because she was embarrassed. She just wanted to hear what other people had to say. “I was interested that people loved seeing him at temple dedications or conferences.”

“How lucky I am,” says Ann, “that I know him as a person and a grandfather and as a prophet. What an amazing thing that is.”

White, white, nothing but white—a foot and a half of white! Laura peered out the front window at the depressing blanket of snow that had shut down the city. Not a snowplow in sight, nor a person. Not even the letter carrier would make it today.
“Laura,” her mother called. “Come here, dear, please.” Laura gave a deep sigh and moped into the kitchen where her mother was taking fresh bread from the oven. “I want you to take this over to our new neighbors while it’s still warm. I heard that their boy has been ill. Perhaps your company would be appreciated.”
Laura plopped down at the table. “Oh, Mom, you don’t know him. He’s really stuck up.”
“Come on, you know that you’re going crazy couped up in here. He hasn’t been in our country for long. I bet he’s just shy. Anyway, I do want you to take the bread over.”
Grumbling as she donned her coat, Laura took the still-warm loaf and, kicking through the drifts, fought her way to the neighbors’ front door. Shivering against the biting wind, she poked the doorbell with her mittened hand. After what seemed like at least an hour, the door opened and a tall, thin woman smiled down at her.
“Why, you must be the Scott girl from next door. Do come in.”
Laura nodded and stepped in. Unwinding the scarf from her face, she handed the bread to the woman. “Mom said you might like some. It’s real fresh.”
“Oh, you are a dear to come out in this weather,” the woman replied, taking the package. “Now you must say hello to Thomas. The poor lad has been all alone with his eyes bandaged for three days now, and the wrap doesn’t come off till Saturday. I’m afraid he’s quite weary of my company and hasn’t really had time to make any friends at school yet.”
She’s talking so fast, she must be desperate, Laura thought. Before she could get out, “I really should get back,” Thomas’s mother had hung up her coat and was leading her into the front room, where the boy sat on the sofa, a huge blue and white afghan tucked over his lap. What Laura could see of his face was red and puffy with what might have been tears slipping from under the large white bandages.
“Someone to say hi, Thomas.”
As his mother quickly slipped out of the room, Laura wished that she could disappear too. After all, what do you say to a miserable kid you don’t even like.
“Who’s there?” he called out loudly.
“You really don’t have to shout,” Laura replied. “I’m not deaf. I’m Laura Scott. I’m in your class at school. Mom had me bring some fresh bread over. I guess you’re kind of lonesome, huh?”
“Not lonesome, just angry. I hate being stuck in the dark. You would too. It’s beastly. I want to go back and see the London parks. I just want to get out and walk anywhere!”
Laura looked closely at the unhappy boy in front of her. “I don’t know if your mom told you or not, but it snowed like crazy last night. There’s no place you could walk to, even without the bandages.”
“I just want to get out,” he muttered again. He sniffed, rubbing his nose on the back of his sleeve.
Laura sat down next to him. “I have an idea—have you ever been in the country, like to a lake in the summer?”
Thomas felt about for a tissue, then blew his nose. “I don’t … know what the country’s like here. I’ve seen little ponds in the parks, though. Why?”
“Well, do you think you’d like to go for a pretend walk with me. I know a super little path at the lake we go to in the summer, and since your eyes are already closed, it might be pretty easy for you to see in your mind the things I’ll describe. What do you say?”
Thomas sniffed again and leaned back. “I guess I could give it a go. Do you really want to bother?”
“Sure. I’ll close my eyes too. I’d love to take a summer walk myself right about now.” She leaned back against the sofa and tightly shut her eyes. “Ready?”
“Go for it!”
“This part may be a bit hard, but I think we’ll just make you the main character, even though I was the real one,” Laura began. “It’s real early. You’re on a small cot inside a one-room log cabin. You open your eyes and see your mom pushing sticks of wood into the stove top, then plunking the heavy metal cover over the hole. ‘Breakfast in ten minutes,’ she says. You jump out of bed onto the wooden floor, splash a bit of cold water on your face, and jump into shorts and a T-shirt.
“After a quick breakfast of cereal and cold juice, you run out onto the front porch and look down to the lake. It’s a wonderful, sunny, clear morning. The air is humming with insects, and the blue water has just a slight ripple from the breeze. The grass feels pleasantly damp under your feet as you run down to the lake and dip your fingers into the water. A very small frog jumps away and hides in the reeds growing close to the shore.
“A young boy in blue swim trunks runs up to you. He’s crying. You ask him what the matter is, and he says he’s been playing with a cat all week. It’s come around every day and spent all day with him, but it hasn’t come for two days now, and he’s afraid something has happened to it.”
“I do say I’ll help, don’t I?” Thomas broke in.
Laura smiled to herself. “Of course you do. You put your arm around his shoulders and ask where the cat usually can be found. He tells you that it likes to wander in the woods and around the boathouse. You take his hand and start down the trail along the water’s edge toward the creaky old dock, where the rowboats are tied. The sun is very hot now, and you grab a long tassel of grass, slip it from its stalk, and put it between your teeth.
“The boy takes you to the boathouse entrance, and you both go in. It’s dark and cool. Old boats with their white paint peeling are leaning against the walls. You notice a small stain on the floor in the corner. The boy sees it too. ‘It’s blood, isn’t it?’ he says. You say it might be—it’s the right color and is fairly fresh.”
“I bet the poor chappy is even more worried now,” said Thomas. “Actually I guess I am, too, aren’t I?”
“Yes. Before you’d thought there wasn’t really a problem, but now you’re not so sure. You take his hand again and start down the path into the woods. The path gets narrow, and the ferns brush against your legs. In some places you have to push the brambles away, and one snags your arm, leaving a nasty scratch.”
“But I don’t let it bother me, do I, Laura?”
“Of course not; you’re much too concerned with the boy and the lost cat. When you see an old building off the trail and up on a hill, you push through the underbrush to get to it. It looks like it had been some kind of storage place. There’s no door on the rusted hinges, so you can see inside.
“Because of the woods, it’s really dark inside. The boy calls out, ‘Here Muffin,’ and a low mew is heard from a corner. He rushes over. ‘Look,’ he cries, ‘she’s not hurt at all!’ And sure enough, there lies a cat with four tiny kittens snuggled against her. Off to the side you see a dead mouse she must have caught at the boathouse and brought here to eat before the births. ‘That mouse explains the stain,’ you say.”
“I’ll be bound the lad is really happy,” Thomas prodded.
Laura opened her eyes and saw him leaning back on the pillows, a smile on his face. “You bet,” she said, “for it turns out that the guy who runs the boathouse owns the cat. He promises the boy one of the kittens when it’s big enough, and asks you if you want one.”
“What do I say?” Thomas asked, turning eagerly toward Laura.
“Actually,” Laura answered with a little laugh, “you, or rather I, said, ‘sure,’ and Mom said it was OK, so now I have a super little gray kitten named Smoky. I could bring him over if you’d like me to.”
“Oh, that would be smashing. Might you come this afternoon? Mum will fix us a lovely tea with biscuits (cookies) and hot chocolate.” Thomas then added shyly, “If you wanted, I could take you on a walk … in London. Would you like that?”
Laura could think of nothing she’d like better.

Illustration by Vlad Gusev
I was in the middle of the Forbidden City in Beijing, China. Only minutes before, I had been surrounded by friends and teachers, but I was suddenly completely and utterly alone.
I immediately understood the danger I was in. A solitary 15-year-old American stood out like a sore thumb in the bustling palace museum. I had come to China with other high school classmates on a school-sponsored trip, and our teachers and guides had warned us numerous times about the possible dangers of touring a foreign country if we were not careful.
I walked around the area, pushing through crowds of tourists—Chinese and foreigner alike—and stood on my tiptoes trying to look for the matching red and white shirts that each member of our group wore. But I saw nothing. Somehow, my group had slipped away without me and I had no idea what direction they had gone in. I sat down and watched the entrances and exits. Ten minutes passed, then 30, then 45. No one from my group appeared.
Someone grabbed my hand. I looked up to see a short woman with slightly crazed eyes and long fingernails. She pulled at my hand. “Follow me,” she said in broken English. “Pretty girl, follow me.”
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Get back,” I yelled, pulling my hand back. Before she could grab it again, I raced through an exit and entered another section of the city.
I ran for a while until I was even more lost than before. I sat on a nearby step, away from the groups of people, and started to cry. I knew a few words of Chinese but certainly not enough to get directions back to our hotel, somewhere on the other side of the sprawling city of Beijing. And at this point, I was not even sure where an exit was.
Amid tears, I started to pray. I admitted that I had been foolish to wander from the group, even for a moment, and I pleaded with Heavenly Father to help me find a way back to my group.
I stood up and walked back in the general direction I had come from. I did not receive any immediate revelation—and I was unsure of what that revelation would sound or feel like even if I did receive it. I had felt the Spirit before, a warm feeling after serving someone or hearing a talk in church, but I had never felt anything specific—certainly not directions on where to go. I started walking forward uncertainly, continuing the prayer in my heart.
I finally reached a fork in the road. I started to go right when I heard a voice whisper, “Stay.”
The voice was so soft that I almost disregarded it completely as one of my own thoughts. But it contained a sureness that I certainly didn’t feel at the moment. “Sit on that bench,” the voice said. I looked up and saw a bench in the middle of the fork. I went over and sat down. Only three minutes later, a familiar white and red shirt appeared in the crowd and waved toward me. It was our tour guide for the day.
I jumped up from the bench I was sitting on. I was so happy I almost hugged the woman.
“We have been looking for you for an hour!” she said. “Where were you?”
As she led me back to my group, I explained to her where I had been, starting with my separation from the group and ending with my decision to sit down instead of going right at the fork in the road.
“You’re very lucky,” she said. “If you had gone right at that turn, it would have taken you in the opposite direction from the rest of the group. The city is so big, I would never have been able to find you.”
I left China a few weeks later, managing to not get lost again during the trip, but I have thought back many times to the moment when I heard the voice of the Spirit whisper to me. It was not the kind of prompting I had received before, but it is what the Lord knew I needed in order to avoid going down a wrong path. I also recognized how easy it would have been to ignore it if I had not been listening.
Since that day, I have heard the Spirit many times in many different ways, warning me of both physical and spiritual danger. Sometimes I have seen the consequences of following or disobeying that voice like I did that first day in the Forbidden City. More often, I haven’t been able to see the results. But I have learned that when I humble myself and am willing to listen, the Lord will help me recognize the Spirit’s promptings and He will guide me back to where I need to be. With Him, I am never alone.
The author lives in Utah, USA.

This 74-year-old sister is joy personified. Having been a member for 30 years, she remembers Decembers in a very special way. She recounts: “On Christmas Eve, we make a dinner within our means. I take care of the soup, my daughter, Arlene, makes the salad, and so on. We invite the neighbors, who also bring food. We set up tables and chairs in my daughter’s garden and sit together for dinner. It is very comforting to share how little or how much you have with others.
She recalls: “My husband was in a car accident, he lost a leg, his spinal cord was damaged, and he was unable to walk again. From his wheelchair, he prepared the ham for Christmas dinner and put it in the oven. He was a very independent man and loved helping others. He was president of the Curaçao Branch for eight years, and many fondly remember his service in the church. Despite his own difficulties, he tried to focus on how to help others with their personal challenges. He passed away in 2006.”
This sister is well known in the Curaçao branch for her delicious soups. There is not an activity that Sister Eugenia attends that she does not bring soup. It is her way of contributing, and she feels very happy to see others enjoy what she makes.
These two beautiful sisters have strong testimonies of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Through Him, they have been able to overcome trials, feel comfort, and comfort others in their pain. They are examples that, no matter how young or old you are, if you want to help, however small that help is, it makes a difference and means a lot to the Lord.

A few years ago in Australia's Northern Territory, one of the most remote places on earth, I visited the Church's only branch where all of the members are Aboriginees. Because the branch is so isolated-500 miles from its District priesthood leaders-I wanted to know what the members there were learning about the gospel. On impulse, I asked all the children if they could sing, unrehearsed, "I Am a Child of God." I can still feel the assurance I felt then as they gathered and sang every word with earnest smiles, their faces full of light. "Teach me all that I must do, to live with Him someday." I sensed that they were on the homeward spiritual path.

In Portugal, in the city of Funchal, on the Madeira Island, lived a lady named Asencão Frango who had been a nun for twenty years. As a matter of fact, she was a Mother Superior at a home for poor children and orphans. Toward the end of a four-year teaching assignment early in her life as a nun, doctors discovered a cancer in her throat. Her mother had died of this same disease. Although she knew that her deteriorating health might lead to certain death, she had a strong feeling that she had not finished her work on earth. She prayed with great faith for the restoration of her health and was healed, with no further problems or need for medical care.
When her church decided to close the children’s home where she was assigned, she maintained it herself for four years, using an inheritance she had received from her deceased parents, until the children living there were raised and on their own or were adopted.
Hearing of a new religion, she attended her first meeting of our church with a friend, out of curiosity. It was held on the dirt floor of a member’s garage, but the spirit of the meeting impressed her. The elders began teaching her the discussions and challenged her to be baptized. She declined, saying that she already had been baptized. The elders persisted by inviting her to read the Book of Mormon. The elders told her, “If this book is the true word of God, then Joseph Smith is a true prophet and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. If so, you need to be baptized into God’s true church.”
She read the Book of Mormon and gained a strong testimony of its divinity. Later, she stopped the missionaries after a discussion of the Godhead and requested baptism. Just one year afterward, she stood on the doorstep of President Reuben P. Ficklin’s mission home in Lisbon. She obtained her temple recommend and could hardly wait to enter the Swiss Temple to pledge sacred covenants with her Heavenly Father.

Even with growth from missionary work, reactivation is a high priority everywhere among members and missionaries alike. Claude Gaston became less active while serving in the army. Though he married a Latter-day Saint, he rarely came to church. “After our second child was born, I began to watch my sister and notice the blessings of the gospel in her family,” says Claude. “My wife, children, father, and branch president encouraged me. I think it was pride that kept me from coming back.” Finally, after nine years, Claude began to attend church again. A year and a half later, he took his family to the Swiss Temple to be sealed.

“I have found a great balance and stability in my life as a result of living the gospel,” says Brother Gaston, who is now bishop of the Vitrolles Ward. “The love that unites my family makes us very happy. I am convinced that if I had not become active again, my family would have dispersed.”

When I was a little girl, comic books were treasured items. When we went on a family vacation my mother allowed us each to buy a new comic book to take along. I always chose either an Archie and Veronica or an Uncle Scrooge. Although Uncle Scrooge (Donald Duck’s rich uncle) was the prototypical tightwad, I loved the frames that showed him diving into his coins. Does anyone here remember the artist’s rendition?

At least once—and usually on the last page, he would go into a room that was essentially an indoor swimming pool, but instead of water, the pool was filled with his money. With an expression of absolute delight and happiness Uncle Scrooge would bounce on the end of the diving board and then dive into the money, swimming around in it—loving the absolute abundance of it all! That’s the way I feel about my blessings. There are so many we all revel in. Abundance with a capital “A.” Remember that in God’s world there is enough and more for everyone. Ultimately we can each inherit all that the Father has. Interesting math, isn’t it? That we each get everything that He has.

As an elder in Boise, one evening I was working on the stake farm with Brother Olsen from the bishopric. As I recollect, only the two of us were there. Brother Olsen worked for the Idaho Power Company. Again, he was a few years older than I, and he was directing the work. One of the jobs we had to do was to repair some power lines. Ever since my childhood I have feared electricity. Even now I turn off all the power in the house if I am going to repair some electrical equipment. That evening the last thing we had to do before it got dark was to climb a telephone pole and splice two wires together that furnished power for part of the farm.

Brother Olsen offered to go up the pole. But though I feared what had to be done, I was younger and knew that I should do it. I asked him what to do. He gave me clear and complete instructions. I was to climb up the pole, take one wire and strip off the insulation about six inches, then take the other wire and strip off the insulation about six inches, join the wires together, and then reinsulate.

I asked him if the power was off. He assured me it was. I climbed the pole and followed his instructions. No one will know how difficult it was for me to take a large, high-powered line in my hand, strip off the insulation, then hold that wire and the connecting wire in my hand, splice them together, and then reinsulate them. Merlin was right. There was no power in the lines. I was absolutely safe.

The thing that I remember about that experience is that I had some doubt as to whether the power was off or not. I was fearful that someone else on the farm might throw a breaker and turn on the electricity. Nevertheless, my faith in Merlin and the fact that I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do was enough to overcome my fear.

CHARLIE: I came home early from my mission about six months ago because I was experiencing extreme anxiety and doubt about the Church. I was struggling to find the foundational doctrines I once knew were true. I felt alone and distant from everything I had once loved.

I felt the only way to build up my faith was to work in the Temple. The first day working in the temple was especially difficult for me. I had never been in more pain than I was that morning. I was extremely nervous because I didn’t feel worthy to be inside the temple and I was so scared for what this day was going to bring.

I cannot describe the feelings of overwhelming love, peace, and joy that I felt as soon as I walked through the temple doors. I felt closer to Christ than I have ever felt before, and I discovered, in that life changing moment, that the Temple is the only place where I can completely forget my struggles and focus 100% on my love for the Lord. There is no place that I have ever felt the love of God more purely than walking into His temple that morning.

Four months later, I can see how it has changed my life every day. I know that as you start going to the temple regularly, you will begin to see the same everyday miracles I see and the temple will change your life the same way it has changed mine.

How long is it until my birthday?” Jonathan asked Mother one wet, rainy day when he couldn’t go outside to play.
“Four months,” Mother answered. “Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered. How long is it until Susan’s birthday?”
“Don’t you remember? Susan’s birthday was just last month,” Mother said. “It will be 11 months before she has another one.”
“Oh,” Jonathan said. “It’s not time for Christmas, either, is it?” He sighed as he walked down the hall. More than anything, he liked times like Christmas and birthdays.
“I like getting presents,” Jonathan told his dog, Wags, when he got to his room. “I like giving presents, too. I wish today was Christmas or a birthday so we could have presents.”
Suddenly Jonathan realized that he hadn’t asked Mother about her birthday or Dad’s. He ran back to the kitchen.
“No,” said Mother, looking up from the big pot of soup she was stirring. “Neither Dad nor I have one today. Why do you keep asking about birthdays?”
“Oh, I just like them.” Jonathan trudged back to his room. He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, where he kept his special treasures. “If it was Mother’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could make her a crayon print with these leaves I saved. Mother really liked the crayon print I made her at kindergarten. She liked it a lot.”
“If it was Dad’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could give him this nice block of wood I found in the park last week. Dad’s always looking for wood that he can carve into animals.”
“If it was Susan’s birthday,” he told Wags, “I could give her five of my best marbles. They would look very pretty at the bottom of her fish tank.”
Jonathan gave a deep, big sigh. “Oh, Wags,” he said, “I do wish it was someone’s birthday, or Christmas, or any day at all when I could give a present!”
Then he smiled, “Maybe, just maybe, today is a day when I can give presents.” He grinned. “Yes, it is!” he told Wags. Then he went to work.
First, he put his pretty leaves under a sheet of paper. Carefully he rubbed across the paper with red and yellow and orange crayons.
Next, he took out the block of wood and wiped it with tissue paper so that it would be nice and clean for Dad to carve.
Finally, he counted out five of his prettiest marbles.
“It’s time for dinner,” Mother called.
Jonathan carried his presents to the dinner table and placed them beside the right bowls.
“Presents for everyone!” he exclaimed when Dad, Mother, and Susan sat down.
“But it isn’t our birthdays,” Mother reminded him.
“And it isn’t Christmas,” Susan and Dad said at the same time.
“No, it isn’t a birthday or Christmas,” Jonathan said. “It’s another special day I thought of—it’s today! And I decided that today was the best day for giving ‘just because I like you’ presents!”
“What a lovely idea,” Mother said. “As soon as we’ve eaten, I’ll hang up this picture where we can all enjoy it.”
Dad said, “This block of wood is just the kind I like for carving.”
“The marbles are really pretty,” Susan said. “Thank you, Jonathan.”
Jonathan was smiling from ear to ear. He had more treasures in his bottom drawer and lots of friends he could give presents to on another “just because I like you” day.

On another occasion my father told the missionary class he was teaching that anyone could give the first discussion that was about the Godhead. He said, “To prove it, I’m going to have my 10-year-old son give you the first lesson next week.” All that week he gave me the opportunity to learn the lesson, and I successfully taught the discussion to his class. When I became a missionary I knew well the story of the First Vision and I knew how to talk about the Godhead.

Recently I read a story that had a profound effect on me.
A couple was swimming in the ocean not far from the beach. Suddenly the captain of a nearby boat jumped from the deck, fully clothed, and began sprinting through the water toward them. “I think he thinks you’re drowning,” the husband said to the wife. “We’re fine.” He yelled, waving him off, but the captain kept swimming hard, his eyes focused straight ahead. With powerful strokes, he dove between the stunned couple. He had seen something they had not.
Directly behind them, not 10 feet away, their nine-year-old daughter was drowning.
Safely above the surface, in the arms of the captain, the little girl was finally able to call out for her parents.1
How did this captain know—from 50 feet away—what the father couldn’t recognize from just 10? Drowning is not the violent, splashing call for help that most people expect. The captain, a former lifeguard, was trained by experts and years of experience to recognize drowning. The father, on the other hand, had learned what drowning looks like by watching television. Until she was safe in the arms of her rescuer, his daughter hadn’t made a sound.

“There were several very nice young men in our company, especially one. He used to say such lovely things to me, told me that I was beautiful and intelligent, and even went so far as to say that I was amiable, something I had never been accused of before, said I was the only woman that he ever loved, and that we were just suited to each other.
“I began to believe him and when he proposed what could I say but yes? Well, the course of true love did run smooth, at least until we got into the Valley. And then we had the usual lovers’ quarrel but not the usual making up. In a short time, he let me know that another girl appreciated him, if I did not. He married one of the girls of our company, whose ignorance he had ridiculed to me many times while on our journey. Such is the constancy of man! I understood she made him a good wife, but stood in great awe of him, the man had honored her so highly. The fates sometimes seem to interfere with our plans, all for our best good.”

I remember a family I knew fifty years ago. The wife was a devoted member of the Church. The husband was not a member. He smoked and drank. She hoped and she prayed. She lived for the day when his heart might be touched by the Spirit of the Lord. Years passed one after another into more than a decade. Her example was one of goodness and gladness and faith. After many years he began to soften. He saw what the Church did for her and for their children. He turned around. He humbled himself. He was baptized. He has since served as a quorum president and a bishop, as a missionary, and as a worker in the temple.