Gospel Story Finder

Oftentimes we are like the young merchant from Boston, who in 1849, as the story goes, was caught up in the fervor of the California gold rush. He sold all of his possessions to seek his fortune in the California rivers, which he was told were filled with gold nuggets so big that one could hardly carry them.
Day after endless day, the young man dipped his pan into the river and came up empty. His only reward was a growing pile of rocks. Discouraged and broke, he was ready to quit until one day an old, experienced prospector said to him, “That’s quite a pile of rocks you are getting there, my boy.”
The young man replied, “There’s no gold here. I’m going back home.”
Walking over to the pile of rocks, the old prospector said, “Oh, there is gold all right. You just have to know where to find it.” He picked two rocks up in his hands and crashed them together. One of the rocks split open, revealing several flecks of gold sparkling in the sunlight.
Noticing a bulging leather pouch fastened to the prospector’s waist, the young man said, “I’m looking for nuggets like the ones in your pouch, not just tiny flecks.”
The old prospector extended his pouch toward the young man, who looked inside, expecting to see several large nuggets. He was stunned to see that the pouch was filled with thousands of flecks of gold.
The old prospector said, “Son, it seems to me you are so busy looking for large nuggets that you’re missing filling your pouch with these precious flecks of gold. The patient accumulation of these little flecks has brought me great wealth.”

Before February 1997, our family could have been compared to a deep river: on the surface the river appeared calm, but the undercurrents were continually raging.
When any problem arose, I tended to blame my wife. I believed she was the cause of our problems, so I rationalized doing anything I wanted, including looking for a new partner. I didn’t feel my wife had the right to complain about my behavior because I provided for the financial needs of our family.
One day in February, there was a knock on our door in Tacloban, Leyte, Philippines. When I looked out the window I saw two strangers—young women wearing name tags. I recognized them as Latter-day Saint missionaries. Looking for an opportunity to debate, I had them enter. When I asked them to sit down, I was ready for battle. I was determined they would leave disappointed, so I presented a false front. I pretended to be attentive so I would be prepared to deliver my arguments most effectively. But when it was my turn to speak, I found there was nothing to argue about. I could only agree with what the sisters had said.
The sisters wanted to set up another meeting, and I agreed. When they left, the peace I had enjoyed disappeared, and soon my negative feelings started to return. I dreaded the prospect of meeting with the missionaries. But I kept the appointment, and, with each succeeding visit, I rediscovered values and truths I had discarded in my vain pursuit of success. Each time they left our home, the peace I felt would last longer, and soon I found myself looking forward to their visits.
The missionaries’ teachings, the scriptures, and the reading material they left behind were microscopes with which I began to examine the minute details of my life. I found that I had been scrutinizing only half of my marriage—my wife’s half—and I had chosen to see only the bad in it. With the new opportunity to view my life in the light of Jesus Christ’s teachings, I began to see more clearly the other half of my marriage—my half—and found it in even worse condition.
The proclamation on the family states, “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ” (Liahona, October 1998, 24). I rejoice and thank the Lord for giving me the chance to repent. I also thank Him for these sisters who willingly became His instruments so that through our accepting the gospel and living its teachings my family might become like a lake—calm and peaceful throughout, not just on the surface.

One of my family's unanswered prayers is to have children. My husband, Marc, and I experience unexplained fertility issues, and for several years, I wasn’t sure how this painful experience would ever be for our good.

Desperately wanting to be parents, even getting pregnant a couple of times—but ultimately ending in miscarriages. Our hearts broke. The ache was amplified by well-meaning but unaware comments from people in our community. These people didn’t know that building a family wasn’t something we were putting off; it was something that was consuming almost every waking moment of our lives for several years.

Eight years ago, after our second miscarriage, my grief was almost unbearable. My body and emotions spiraled. I felt so depressed, betrayed by my body, and angry, oh so angry, I didn’t even want to pray.

And some days I didn’t. But I kept at it. I continued going to Church, knowing that God would heal and mend our broken hearts. During this time, I listened to the sacrament prayers with such intensity. I desperately needed to receive the promise “…that they may always have his Spirit to be with them.” [33]

Another name for the Spirit is the comforter. In John 14:18, the Savior promises His disciples, “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” [34]

We needed the Spirit to comfort us during one of our most difficult experiences.

Slowly, I started to trust God with my hopes and dreams again.

President Jeffrey R. Holland shared, “God expects you to have enough faith and determination and enough trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing. In fact, He expects you not simply to face the future (that sounds pretty grim and stoic); He expects you to embrace and shape the future—to love it and rejoice in it and delight in your opportunities.
God is anxiously waiting for the chance to answer your prayers and fulfill your dreams, just as He always has. But He can't if you don't pray, and He can't if you don't dream. In short, He can't if you don't believe.” [35]

Through this trial, God began shaping us into something we could not become otherwise—we learned empathy and compassion, we learned to understand invisible struggles, we learned to assume positive intent, and to listen without judgment. This experience has refined us, and we are not defined by being childless here on earth. This season of childlessness has allowed us opportunities to give, love, serve, and support others in capacities that otherwise would have been nearly impossible.

I can see His promises unfolding—that all these things truly have and can be “…for [our] good.” [36]

I recall another missionary who said, “Two weeks before I was to go see my bishop and get the missionary forms and papers processed, I had some doubts. I had some questions about the future and even about the Church. I walked into the living room and interrupted my father, who was watching television, and said, ‘Dad, I’m not so sure about this Joseph Smith business. I’m not so sure I know the Church is true. I’m not so sure I want to go out and represent it. I have a lot of questions, and I have a lot of misgivings.’
“When I said that, my father walked over and turned off the television, took the cigarette he had in his hand and smashed it in the ashtray, took the can of beer he had in his other hand and put it down on the table, and said, ‘Son, I want you to know that I don’t do very much about it, but I know that the Church of Jesus Christ is true and that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I want you to hear me say it because I know that better than most anything else in this world.’”
This young man then said, “I want my father to know that I appreciate him. He has some habits that he’s not proud of. He has some habits that I’m not proud of. But he is my father, and he has a testimony. I’m pleased I even told him on that occasion ‘Thank you for being my dad.’”

Elizabeth headed the ball and skillfully let it drop near her feet. As she tried to pass off to her teammate, Central’s right-winger lost her balance and careened into Elizabeth, sending them both sprawling. For a moment Elizabeth couldn’t breathe. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled. There was only one person on the bench to replace her. Oh, no, she thought, not Kristen! She’s not ready yet. But Coach Fulton was already sending her in.
It didn’t take Central long to discover that they were dealing with a beginner. When the pass came, Kristen dribbled downfield. Central moved in and pressured her. She tensed, lost her concentration, and tripped over the ball. Central gained control and quickly scored the winning goal.
As the field cleared, Kristen slowly walked away, pulling a wad of crumpled paper from her pocket.
Elizabeth hadn’t known Kristen long. She wasn’t an easy person to get to know, but she seemed to need a friend. Elizabeth knew she was discouraged—maybe discouraged enough to quit. Even the practice sessions were tough for her. Perhaps that was because she didn’t have any friends to buddy practice with.
“Kristen, wait up,” Elizabeth called.
Kristen looked up, surprised. “Sorry about the game,” she said quietly, shoving the wad of paper into her pocket. “I guess I just wasn’t cut out for soccer. The team would be better off without me. I can’t seem to do anything right.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She put her arm gently around Kristen’s shoulder, and they walked away together. It isn’t just soccer, Elizabeth thought. At school Kristen had a difficult time following directions. She couldn’t remember what their teacher, Mr. Kelly, told her to do. She often wrote numbers and letters backward. And she just couldn’t seem to pay attention, even though she tried very hard.
“A learning disability” was what Kristen’s special teacher, Mrs. O’Brien, called it. For some reason, Kristen’s brain wasn’t able to process information normally. The right messages didn’t always get through, just as a phone call doesn’t go through when the wires are jammed or broken. Because of her difficulties, Kristen spent a part of each school day with Mrs. O’Brien, who helped Kristen and other children like her.
Elizabeth had never met anyone like Kristen before. The more time she spent with her, the more she noticed all those wads of paper that Kristen always had in her pockets. She wanted to ask her about the paper, but the two of them were just becoming friends, and Elizabeth didn’t want to spoil it. Perhaps Mrs. O’Brien, who knew Kristen well, could help her understand Kristen better.
“Kristen is a very bright girl, as are many learning disabled children,” Mrs. O’Brien explained when Elizabeth stopped by the next day after school. “She’s making progress, but slowly. Unfortunately, she’s been hurt too often by thoughtless teasing. Many children just don’t understand. They never take the time to get to know her. That’s why she’s so shy about making friends.”
“Do you know why she always carries those little wads of crumpled paper?” asked Elizabeth.
“That’s something Kristen will have to tell you herself.”
I’ll ask her at soccer practice, Elizabeth decided as she hurried to the soccer field.
“Kristen,” she began slowly when practice was over, “I’ve been wondering why your pockets are always full of crumpled paper.”
“It’s nothing much, just doodles,” said Kristen.
“Really? May I see them?”
Reluctantly Kristen reached into her pocket and retrieved a wad of paper.
Elizabeth put it on her knee and smoothed it out carefully. “Kristen, this is me!” she said in surprise. “You’ve drawn a sketch of me!”
“Sometimes—especially when I’m feeling discouraged—I doodle. It helps me feel better,” Kristen explained nervously.
“This is terrific, Kristen! Do you have any more?”
Kristen emptied the contents of her pockets and handed them to Elizabeth. “I have lots more at home,” she added, feeling more confident.
There was a sketch of Kristen’s puppy chewing an old sneaker, a drawing of their teammates playing soccer, and a picture of E. T. Elizabeth was astonished. They were really good! “Has anyone else ever seen these?” she asked.
Kristen shook her head.
“Well, they should!” A smile spread across Elizabeth’s face. She knew what to do to help the other kids at school to look beyond Kristen’s difficulties and get to know her better. “I have an idea,” Elizabeth said. “Come with me.”
First they went to see Mr. Kelly, then they hurried to Kristen’s house, where they gathered all of her drawings and mounted them on construction paper.
When their classmates arrived at school the next morning, they found the walls of their room covered with Kristen’s artwork. “Hey, that’s me!” several of them shouted.
“Who drew these?” others asked.
“They’re terrific!” they all agreed as they milled around, trying to see all the pictures.
After they had settled down, Mr. Kelly announced, “The artist is someone you all know. It’s—”
“It’s Kristen!” Elizabeth blurted out before Mr. Kelly could finish. She began to applaud enthusiastically. And the whole room clapped with her.

A few months before my eighth birthday, my mom and I were cleaning out my bedroom. We noticed how much stuff I had that I didn’t really use, and my mom asked me where I would put the new things I was going to get for my birthday. After talking about it, I said, “I don’t need gifts for my birthday. Let’s find someone who doesn’t have anything and give him or her the gifts.”
On my birthday, I invited my friends over for a party. I asked that instead of bringing a gift for me, they bring one for a seven-year-old girl who was living in a homeless shelter. A fire at the shelter had burned all of her belongings. During the party we took our gifts to the girl. Because of a death in the family, she wasn’t at the shelter, so we left the gifts on her bed. It was sad to see how little this family had. We all left feeling very grateful for what we have. When my mom asked me later how I thought the party had gone, I said, “It was fun. We did something good today.”

Photograph courtesy of Odgerel Ochirjav
Last December a choir from the Ulaanbaatar Mongolia East and West Stakes reached the semi-finals of the nationally televised show Mongolia’s Got Talent. The choir—composed of seminary and institute students, half of whom are returned missionaries—never thought they would have this kind of opportunity to share their beliefs and talents.
In 2015 an Area Seventy visited Mongolia and provided training concerning the public affairs efforts of the Church. Odgerel Ochirjav, president of the Ulaanbaatar Mongolia West Stake, was unsure how to proceed. Then in January 2016 his brother-in-law called and said, “I was watching Mongolia’s Got Talent. … I had a strong impression that your Church choir should participate.”
President Ochirjav discussed the idea with the choir director, Sister Unurjargal Purev. She and the choir members were enthusiastic about the possibility. The choir became known as Zion, or “SION,” an acronym in Mongolian for spirit, faith, mind, and unity.
For the first round of the competition in March 2016, SION peformed a mash-up of two songs. One judge said, “I see your faces light up! … We need to put your video on YouTube to showcase this show to the world.”
Another judge asked the choir what they would do if they won the grand prize of U.S. $50,000. He was impressed when they said they wanted to donate it all, as a special Christmas gift, to an orphanage.
Of the 400 participants, SION was among the 200 who advanced to the second round, but their performance was scheduled for the same day as a multi-stake youth conference, which involved half of the 35 choir members. The choir decided to go to the second round, so they hired a bus and, following their performance, traveled eight hours to the youth conference.
Of the 200 acts, SION was among the 32 to advance to the semi-finals. The choir began to be featured on social media related to Mongolia’s Got Talent.
They practiced from June to September to prepare for the semi-finals. On the day of the performance, they woke up at 4:00 a.m. in -29 degrees F (-34 degrees C) weather. Sister Nomuungerel Enkhtuvshin, a choir member, said, “Many members of our group caught a cold. But they got better as we prayed for them.”
People throughout Mongolia viewed the show and texted in their votes.
Brother Shijir Purevdorj said, “As a result of this TV show, many people are cultivating a positive attitude toward the Church.”
Choir members themselves also received blessings. Brother Odgerel Tumursukh said, “We devoted our attention and time for a whole year while managing our jobs and other facets of our lives. Although it was difficult, we have received many blessings. I have learned to manage my time and make sacrifices for the Lord.”
In addition to increasing their faith, members of the choir gained self-confidence, developed friendships, and learned unity. “Singing in the choir has helped us to learn how to forgive and support one another,” said Brother Ganbaatar Ulziiduuren. “We have become more united.” Sister Bilguunzaya Tungalagtuul learned “that I should never doubt myself or think that I can’t do something.”
Brother Bayartsogt Lhagvajav said, “Singing in the choir has brought many blessings to my family, and it also helped me to receive the answers I was seeking for some time. Our leaders offered us solution[s]. … It has affirmed my testimony that our leaders are called of God.”
“When I participated in Mongolia’s Got Talent,” Sister Onon Dalaikhuu explained, “I learned that encouraging and supporting each other [was the] key to [our] success.” Sister Dalaikhuu’s responsibilities included organizing crew members, which helped strengthen her leadership abilities. She added, “We felt that [the] Lord guided and influenced us. Many of us were sick, busy, tired, and feeling overwhelmed. However, when we prayed together, somehow we would find more power and desire to endure.”
Although the choir didn’t receive enough votes to move on to the finals, their performances gave the Church significant exposure throughout Mongolia. President Ochirjav explains, “We were obedient to an assignment by our priesthood leaders, and the Lord prepared a way. … Now the whole city [Ulaanbaatar] talks about the Mormon choir’s participation in Mongolia’s Got Talent.”

The borrowed white tablecloths and snowmen centerpieces gave the cultural hall a festive look as last-minute preparations were being made for our family Christmas party.
As we waited for our guests, my gaze drifted to a table where an empty jar—labeled “Sub for Santa”—sat. I prayed that by the end of the night, the jar would be full.
During our party preparations we had discovered that my cousin’s husband had been out of work for over a year and a half. Her family’s main source of income consisted of handling five paper routes, which required them to begin each day at 3:30 a.m. The majority of their income went to paying the mortgage and other necessities, leaving little for things they wanted, such as Christmas presents.
My cousin’s family was one of the first to arrive. I watched as they made their way toward the dining tables, past our Christmas jar. As they approached, my cousin’s husband stopped to read the sign on the jar. Without hesitating, he took out his worn wallet, pulled out a couple of dollars, and tossed them in the container, oblivious to who the family “in need” was.
Emotion welled up in my throat, and I instantly recalled the New Testament story of the widow and her two mites. Wealthy men were flaunting their large donations to the treasury when “there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites” (see Mark 12:41–42).
No one would have blamed my cousin’s husband for walking past the jar thinking, “If I had I would give” (Mosiah 4:24). His great example of charity and love for his fellowmen touched not only me but also other members of my family who were watching him. I knew his family would be fine because “charity is the pure love of Christ, … and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him” (Moroni 7:47).
We had hoped to give his family something that night, which we did later on, but by giving in the midst of his own time of need, he showed us that when it came to what mattered most, he was already a rich man.

I close with a parable.
Once a man received as his inheritance two keys. The first key, he was told, would open a vault which he must protect at all cost. The second key was to a safe within the vault which contained a priceless treasure. He was to open this safe and freely use the precious things which were stored therein. He was warned that many would seek to rob him of his inheritance. He was promised that if he used the treasure worthily, it would be replenished and never be diminished, not in all eternity. He would be tested. If he used it to benefit others, his own blessings and joy would increase.
The man went alone to the vault. His first key opened the door. He tried to unlock the treasure with the other key, but he could not, for there were two locks on the safe. His key alone would not open it. No matter how he tried, he could not open it. He was puzzled. He had been given the keys. He knew the treasure was rightfully his. He had obeyed instructions, but he could not open the safe.
In due time, there came a woman into the vault. She, too, held a key. It was noticeably different from the key he held. Her key fit the other lock. It humbled him to learn that he could not obtain his rightful inheritance without her.
They made a covenant that together they would open the treasure and, as instructed, he would watch over the vault and protect it; she would watch over the treasure. She was not concerned that, as guardian of the vault, he held two keys, for his full purpose was to see that she was safe as she watched over that which was most precious to them both. Together they opened the safe and partook of their inheritance. They rejoiced, for, as promised, it replenished itself.
With great joy they found that they could pass the treasure on to their children; each could receive a full measure, undiminished to the last generation.
Perhaps some few of their posterity would not find a companion who possessed the complementary key, or one worthy and willing to keep the covenants relating to the treasure. Nevertheless, if they kept the commandments, they would not be denied even the smallest blessing.
Because some tempted them to misuse their treasure, they were careful to teach their children about keys and covenants.
There came, in due time, among their posterity some few who were deceived or jealous or selfish because one was given two keys and another only one. “Why,” the selfish ones reasoned, “cannot the treasure be mine alone to use as I desire?”
Some tried to reshape the key they had been given to resemble the other key. Perhaps, they thought, it would then fit both locks. And so it was that the safe was closed to them. Their reshaped keys were useless, and their inheritance was lost.
Those who received the treasure with gratitude and obeyed the laws concerning it knew joy without bounds through time and all eternity.

Two such faithful members, James Ewudzie and Frederick Antwi, assisted me one day in the Accra Ghana Temple. Several years before Latter-day Saint missionaries arrived in Ghana, James had been part of a group of about 1,000 people who used the Book of Mormon and other Church materials in their church services. They prayed for the day that the Church would come to Ghana. He joined with other young men traveling around Ghana and teaching the gospel as found in our materials. Once missionaries arrived in 1978, he was baptized on the first day that Latter-day Saint baptisms were performed in Ghana.

Fred Antwi, a pioneer member of the Church in Ghana

Early in Fred’s time as a member, he attended the funeral of a relative who was a tribal chief. There he found out that the family plan was to make him the new chief. Knowing that such a position would cause him to do things contrary to his gospel beliefs, he sped away after the burial and turned his back on a position that would have brought him prominence and wealth.

Once the Accra Temple was dedicated, both James and Fred traveled over four hours, one way, every week so that they could be temple workers. As I performed ordinances with them, I was overcome with the sense of history that surrounded me. Realizing the Church history in Africa that the two of them represented, I felt like it was akin to having John Taylor or Wilford Woodruff or other early members of the Church with me doing those ordinances.

In October 2022, I dedicated the Bangkok Thailand Temple. For months I had worked on the prayer of dedication. Those sacred words had been translated into twelve languages, and Sister Rasband and I thought all was ready for the important day of dedication.

The night before the dedication, I was awakened from my sleep with an unsettled, urgent feeling about the dedicatory prayer. I tried to set aside the prompting, thinking after months of work that the prayer was in place. But the Spirit would not leave me alone. I sensed certain words were missing, and by divine design they came to me by revelation. I inserted in the prayer these words near the end, and I’ve used them in every temple dedication since that time: “May we think celestial, letting Thy Spirit prevail in our lives, and strive to be peacemakers always.”

In that revelation, the Lord was reminding me to heed the words of our living prophet: “Think Celestial!”3 “Let God Prevail,”4 and “Peacemakers Needed.”5

As an introduction to my topic, I would like to share a childhood memory. I was sitting on a bench with other children waiting for Primary to start. (I must have been about four or five years of age.) Admiring the brand new shoes I was wearing for the first time that day, I was not bashful about sharing my pleasure with the other children. A friend, Helene Jones (I still remember her name) could only take so much bragging, until she responded, "We don't like new shoes. We like our old shoes!" What a shock that was for me. How could anyone not like new shoes? Then it occurred to me that my new shoes looked different through Helene's eyes than they did through mine– a lesson in empathy. I was forced to borrow Helene's lenses and ask myself how I would feel if she were bragging about her new shoes to me.

It took several months to gain courage to go to church. I knew where the church was, but there were no missionaries in our little branch. In February 1984, I walked into the Kwekwe chapel. I wanted to walk back out. I wasn’t sure I belonged and sat at the back, ready to bolt. After the opening exercises, the branch president, Mike Allen, bore his testimony about the Savior Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. I felt connected. The next person also bore his testimony about the Savior and the Book of Mormon, and so did the third one. I was euphoric. I couldn’t get the courage to go to the pulpit, so I stood where I was and said, “I love Jesus. I’m reading the Book of Mormon.” And I sat down. That was the beginning of my testimony.
Those testimonies were the Lord’s way of reaching out to me because it helped me feel that I belonged there. I felt that these were my brothers and sisters. During the following days I prayed for them and for acceptance. I met members there who were so kind and who helped me.
A lot happened that day when I walked into the chapel. I wonder what would have happened if those members hadn’t borne their testimonies. You never know whether there is someone who is struggling. When you stand up and say what you feel, it may be exactly what someone needs to hear.

One Sunday at a new ward, I sat alone during sacrament meeting. Afterward, I watched ward members talk to one another, but nobody introduced themselves to me, and I was too shy to start a conversation. As a more introverted person, I felt out of place in a ward that seemed like it was full of extroverted people. I felt like a failed member of the Church because they had skills of connection that I didn’t. So I went home before Sunday School.
I figured that being different socially prevented me from fitting in or unifying with my congregation. But over time, I’ve realized that a difference in social comfort or abilities doesn’t have to divide us or prevent us from worshipping. Rather, despite our differences in introversion and extroversion, we can all contribute unique abilities that God needs in His kingdom.

At a youth conference last year, the air was filled with cries of excitement as the teens experienced yet another first—baseball. Only two or three of the youth who attended the conference had ever played the game before, so they were given the assignment to explain the rules to the others.
“It was a brand-new experience to learn how to play baseball, since soccer and badminton are the sports we play here,” says Malvinder.
In addition to baseball, youth conference was filled with other fun games and activities. Although the youth enjoyed the activities, they say what they will remember most about the experience was the opportunity to meet people with similar beliefs and to draw courage from knowing they are not alone.
Ariana Dabier, a Mia Maid, says, “It was great to see so many Malaysian youth who are just like me—faced with similar trials and temptations—and yet they stand firm in their faith. I now know that no matter where I go on this earth, the gospel will be the same.”

Calmly the bishop turned his head toward the sacrament table and gave the dreaded “no” sign. The young priest had missed a word while blessing the sacrament.
Give the kid a break, I thought to myself, trying in vain to transmit my brainwaves to the bishopric. After all, this was Billy we were talking about. This was a kid who had a tough enough time talking in complete sentences, let alone reading prayers in front of a congregation of people, speaking words verbatim from a card.
Just a week before, Billy’s dad had ordained him a priest. With that prayer came a promise that the Lord would help him overcome his handicaps. The following Sunday, that promise was put to the test. Billy was kneeling behind the sacrament table, confronted with a task that demanded nothing less than perfection.
Billy prayed again, and with loving composure, the bishop once again signaled for him to say the prayer over. Billy’s face filled with disappointment as he dropped to his knees, cleared his throat, and prayed. An anxious reverence filled the chapel.
As Billy began again, I prayed along with him, mouthing each word as if I could somehow control his speech. Amazingly, the technique seemed to be working. With only a few phrases to go, Billy’s prayer was perfect. And then the unthinkable happened as the words that I mouthed and Billy spoke went suddenly out of sync.
There would be no need for Billy to look at the bishop. Billy knew he had to start over. For one awkward and eternal moment he remained on his knees as all eyes focused on the bishopric. And then Andy arose from the congregation, walked quietly to the sacrament table, and knelt down next to his younger brother.
Bowing our heads in gratitude, we waited for Andy to offer the prayer and put an end to Billy’s suffering. But it was Billy’s voice—not Andy’s—that broke the silence. I held my breath as Billy tiptoed through the phrases with his brother at his side.
Then at last came “amen,” and the bishop smiled and nodded.
Billy emerged from behind the sacrament table wearing the same big grin he seemed to always have. For one sweet moment he had tasted perfection, and he knew it. We all knew it, and I more fully understood the wisdom of our bishop.
He was well aware of Billy’s weaknesses. But he loved Billy. He loved him enough to allow him the chance to magnify his priesthood and to let him try and fail until he found perfection.
In that perfect prayer that Billy uttered, we were all lifted and edified. We all saw a priest of great courage who knelt with his older brother and preached a powerful sermon from the sacrament table.

The winters in France can be very cold, and they can feel even colder when you’re riding a bike. Right after Christmas while I was serving as a missionary in the Belgium Brussels Mission, my companion and I passed a little lady, also on a bicycle.
I immediately noticed this woman had no gloves. On impulse, I asked her if she would like my gloves because I had received a new pair for Christmas. She hesitated and then talked to me about other things. We stopped our bikes and talked some more.
Finally, I took off my gloves and put them on her hands and said, “Merry Christmas.” Her eyes filled with tears and she hugged me. I felt so strongly the love Heavenly Father had for her, and I told her how much God loved her. She said her husband was sick and she had left the house to run some errands. I asked her if we could come and see her, but she declined because of her husband’s illness. I will never forget what I felt as I watched her ride off. I felt the sting of cold on my hands, but my heart was filled with the love of God.
The lesson I learned was that through service we can come to feel the love God has for each of his children. It is often by our service that God blesses others and answers their prayers.
I was just thinking that Mom must have been inspired to send me another pair of gloves for Christmas.

Stonehenge—one of history’s mysteries. Every year millions of people travel to Salisbury Plain, England, to visit this ancient monument. What most people don’t know, however, is that, tucked away nearby in the remote village of Kingston Deverill, lives the Ralph family, whose history is as rich as Stonehenge and whose acts of charity are as monumental.
Meet Edwin, 17, Emmanuel, 16, Martha, 13, and Sophia, 8, descendants of King Alfred the Great. Their daily schedules are as busy as most young people their age, with school, church, and sports; but their household responsibilities are unusual. They, along with their parents and grandparents, live in Kingston House, where they care for five mentally challenged men. The five residents are between ages 33 and 71. They have multiple learning disabilities with their mental ages ranging from two to five years. They need constant supervision. With the extended Ralph family, each child plays an important role in the running of this unusual home where service and charity are taught and learned daily.
Early each morning, Sophia scrambles out of bed, wakes her father, then helps him make breakfast for the family of 11. Later on Martha washes up, Emmanuel vacuums, and Edwin supervises bathing sessions. As the Ralph children interact with their less able “brothers,” their love for these men radiates. “They bring a lot of laughter into our lives,” smiles Edwin, a priest in the Yeovil Branch, Bristol England Stake. “You learn to develop patience and a sense of humor.”
He relates a story of one man who came to their home after living in an institution for most of his life. “The first thing he did was to vacuum the toilet. He had learned to vacuum and did it very well. When he arrived, he asked us if he could use the vacuum cleaner, which we thought was great—until it went up in smoke.”
There’s never a dull moment at Kingston House. Caring for the men is a full-time job, which the family happily shares among them.
Emmanuel explains the feelings he has towards the men whom he sees as brothers. “I know they’re special people, and it’s my responsibility to help them. They have boys’ spirits in men’s bodies, and it is refreshing to be around them.”
Emmanuel dreams of being a professional cricket player one day. He shares this dream with the residents by playing cricket with them on a regular basis. In fact, all the Ralphs are cricket fans and will challenge anyone to a match in their backyard. The sport enables the disabled men and non-LDS friends and neighbors to come together. Once the game begins, barriers vanish, and the participants lose themselves in fun.
Martha, who plays for Dorset Girls Cricket Team, enjoys watching her friends overcome their fear of the patients. “At first they’re a bit scared,” she says. “We forget at times that they are mentally disabled until we see the reaction of other people to them. After a while they get to know the men and see them in a different light. We all have a great time.”
As a Beehive in Young Women, Martha realizes that the time she spends with the residents has helped her learn to view others less judgmentally. “Because of the experience I’ve had with our residents, I realize that other people need help too. It’s not good to hold prejudices. Christ never did.”
The gospel gives Edwin a clearer perspective. “It’s nice to know they are spirits just like me, and there is a purpose for their disability here. I want to help them live the best lives they can. It will be brilliant to see them in the Resurrection. I look forward to meeting them in the next life when their bodies are perfect.”
One of the residents, Roy, was 46 when Sophia was age two. Because Roy’s mental age was the same as Sophia’s, they became best friends. Brother Ralph describes how they played together and followed each other around. “Now Sophia is eight, and Roy looks up to her as his big sister. Mentally he’s still a two-year-old.” It’s touching to watch them walk hand in hand down the lane to the lambing fields. When it’s spring, Sophia takes Roy to see the newborn lambs, an outing they both cherish.
Brother Ralph serves on the high council of the Bristol Stake. He’s pleased with the spirit of charity the residents have brought into his home. “The children feel it’s quite natural for them to help the disabled men. Giving them attention and time is not a burden; it’s a benefit. There’s no question in my mind that we’ve been blessed.”
Where there are obstacles, there are also talents. The family believes that the men have been blessed with unique gifts despite their limitations. One has a great memory and always knows where everything is. Another is shy until he gets involved in sports, when he forgets himself and his skills come out. Yet another is an artist, even though he is partially blind and deaf. And another is a natural clown. He is a genius at remembering names and voices.
Another source of enjoyment for the Ralphs is missionary work. The Yeovil Branch which they attend is 28 miles away with an average attendance of 75 members. Eleven years ago, when Edwin and Emmanuel were six and five, they helped to convert their grandparents. “It was exciting to teach my parents,” says Brother Ralph. “The children are not afraid to share the gospel with others, and this has made the world of difference in our lives.”
The Ralphs’ missionary work also extends to family history. When they traced their family lines, they discovered they were descendants of King Alfred the Great. It also happens that the standing stones mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, King Alfred’s meeting place with his troops in 878 A.D. where he made plans to battle the Danes, are on the Ralphs’ land. These two five-foot stones form part of their family shield. The wooden coat of arms also displays the motto “Honor, Truth, and Excellence.” These qualities reflect in their lives as a family as they serve those in need.

I also had the privilege to go to the Nauvoo Temple and participate in baptisms for some of my ancestors. The Nauvoo Temple was beautiful inside and out. I felt a special spirit there and was grateful to the early Saints in Nauvoo. Building the temple was so important to them. They worked hard to finish the temple’s construction, so they could complete temple ordinances and make and keep sacred covenants before they were forced out of this beautiful city.
As our time to leave the city of Nauvoo drew near, I felt very sad. It was easy to imagine how difficult it was for the early Saints to leave. My family and I walked down Parley Street, following the Trail of Hope. As I looked back at the Nauvoo Temple, it stood so beautiful and brilliant on the hill. I realized that the Saints of Nauvoo had great faith to leave their beautiful homes and a temple of God. As I walked to the very edge of the Mississippi River, I recognized that many of the early Saints did not know where they were going. They had great faith that God would guide them and protect them.

After joining the Church, my great-grandfather, Ole Hansen, emigrated from Norway and settled in Menan, Idaho. In 1925, he obtained employment hauling sand from the Menan Little Butte quarry. As work progressed, workers would drive trucks or teams under a rock overhang to get a new load.
One morning, Grandpa Ole received a strong spiritual prompting: “This hill is going to tip over today.” His first thought was the hill could not possibly collapse, but he eventually investigated the top of the rock ledge. He was alarmed to discover a large crack along the ridge and knew he had to act. Though other workers were skeptical, Grandpa Ole finally convinced all to evacuate. Less than five minutes later, several tons of sand and rock fell where the evacuated men had just been working. Grandpa Ole’s ability to receive and respond to spiritual promptings saved more than 25 men that day.