Gospel Story Finder

I hope that you will have the experience of being taught to read by your parents. Since my father was busy at the New England Conservatory of Music all day, my mother taught me to read when I was about four years old. One day we walked down Huntington Avenue to the shops in the center of Boston. We went to the publishing house of Little, Brown and Company. There we were shown a lot of children’s books. Mother bought several that were suitable for my ability. One was an attractive little primer that inspired my imagination. It was called The Brownie Book, a story about imaginary little creatures who did good deeds and went on a trip to the moon! I could see the moon out of our window at night. It seemed such an important object in the sky. The idea of anybody going to the moon brought many stimulating thoughts to my eager, young imagination.
Another book was a primer describing the coming of the Pilgrim fathers, the establishment of the American colonies, and the development of the nation into which I had been born. I was deeply impressed by it.
About this time, President Joseph F. Smith and his counselors in the First Presidency suggested to members of the Church that they hold a family home evening once each week. Accordingly, my father would gather us around a little table after supper to read the Book of Mormon. We read it from cover to cover that year. Because Mother had taught me to read, I was privileged to take my turn in reading aloud. What excitement I experienced as we approached the Third book of Nephi and the coming of the Savior! With feelings of sadness we continued through the books of Mormon, Ether, and Moroni. These feelings were strongly reinforced by my father.
Father told me the story of Grandfather Durham, who had been inspired to compose a melody called “The Nephite Lamentation.” Thomas Durham had been promised in a patriarchal blessing that he would hear music as it was sung in the heavens. My father related how one night my grandfather had a dream. In it he saw twenty-four men by a stream. They looked very sad. Their leader arose and addressed them. Then he heard a melody played on what sounded like a trumpet. The impression came to him that it was a dream concerning Moroni and the last twenty-four Nephites. He awoke. In the late hours of the night he went to his little organ and played the tune he had heard and wrote it down. Later, a choir in the Parowan Ward in southern Utah sang the tune to the words of “O My Father.” It was published in modified form in the old Primary songbook as arranged by Henry E. Giles.
Hearing this music and reading the Book of Mormon in these early years with my parents made a forceful impression upon my mind as to the reality and truth of the Book of Mormon.
I hope that each of you will watch and listen carefully to what your parents say and do. I pray they will teach you well. I also hope that the music you hear in your home will be uplifting and inspiring, because we believe that “if there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” (A of F 1:13.) The place to begin with good things is at home with your family.
Finally, let us all remember the commandment: “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” (Ex. 20:12.)

I remember reading several years ago of a man who had gone into the wilderness area of the state of Montana with a companion on a big game hunt. The hunters came upon a grizzly bear at rather close range, and one of the men fired at the bear and wounded it. In a rage the huge animal charged the hunters. One of them, in panic and in a desperate attempt to save himself, climbed into the lower branches of a small tree close by. The tree was not large enough to support the man’s weight and hold him beyond the reach of the bear’s powerful claws and jaws. Before his companion could destroy the bear, it had inflicted such serious injuries on the hunter that it was necessary to amputate both his legs in order to save his life.

The T’ang dynasty lasted from A.D. 618 to 907. And during this important period in Chinese history, block printing was invented, Buddhism became very strong, and certain areas of the surrounding territory were conquered. The rulers were very rich, especially during the early years of the dynasty, when the T’ang emperor, T’ai-tsung, sat on the throne.
The time came when the emperor wished to find a worthy husband for his daughter, Wen-ch’en, who was a very beautiful, intelligent, and elegant young woman. When the emperor’s wishes became known to the ruler of a kingdom adjoining the T’ang empire, he sent his most trusted official, Prime Minister Lu, to ask on his behalf for Wen-ch’en’s hand in marriage. When the prime minister arrived, he found the representatives of four other rulers there ahead of him.
After some thought, the emperor decided to pose five puzzles for the visiting emissaries to solve. “The ruler whose official shows the greatest wisdom will marry my daughter,” he declared. “After all, he must be very wise if he has chosen such a clever official to serve him. Therefore, he should make a suitable husband for Wen-ch’en.”
The emperor assembled the five emissaries, and ordered one of his courtiers to bring in a length of thread and a large ivory bead, with a hole on either side of it. “Here is the first of five puzzles I shall ask you to solve,” Emperor T’ai-tsung explained. “These holes are connected by a zigzag path. Whoever can thread the bead will solve the first puzzle.”
Each emissary took a turn twisting the thread and trying to string the bead. The first four coaxed it gently, then they tried to force it, and at last they gave up. When Prime Minister Lu’s turn came, he lifted up a tiny ant, looped the thread around its body and placed it at one of the openings in the bead. He blew as hard as he could on the ant and it sped swiftly through the zigzag passageway to the other end.
Emperor T’ai-tsung was impressed. “You are a very clever man. Now, if all of you will follow me, we shall see who can find the answer to the second puzzle.”
Out in the courtyard they found a large pile of cut logs. The emperor said, “There are about a hundred logs here. Can one of you tell me which end of each grew closest to the tree’s roots?”
Four of the emissaries frowned and thought hard, but they could not guess the answer.
Prime Minister Lu asked respectfully, “Your Imperial Highness, am I permitted to have these logs placed in the pond of your courtyard?”
“I have no objection,” the emperor graciously replied.
When the logs had been put into the water, one end of each log sank slightly below the surface while the other bobbed on top of the water.
Prime Minister Lu declared, “The ends beneath the surface are heavier and denser because they are nearer the tree roots and the lighter ends are closer to the tops of the trees.”
“You have solved the first two puzzles very cleverly indeed,” the emperor complimented, “but I wonder whether you will figure out the third.” He smiled and led the five men out to the stables. There he pointed out one hundred mares and one hundred foals. “Your next puzzle requires you to pair each young horse with its mother.”
The five officials walked around looking perplexed at the mares and foals.
It cannot be the size or color, thought Prime Minister Lu. The next day when the emperor asked the officials to match the mares and foals, each of the first four replied that the task was impossible.
Prime Minister Lu confidently said, “Let all the mares be taken from the stables and the foals kept inside. The foals may eat as much hay as they like all day long but they may not be given a single drop of water to drink.”
The next day Prime Minster Lu asked that the foals be let out of the stables. Each foal ran to its mother to drink.
T’ai-tsung was delighted at Prime Minister Lu’s ingenuity. He praised him highly and then told the five that there would be no more puzzles to solve that day. Four of the officials spent the day resting, but Prime Minister Lu wandered in the courtyard, speaking kindly to the courtiers and servants he met and inquiring about the life of the court.
That night as all the officials lay sleeping in the guesthouse, they were suddenly awakened by a tremendous noise of gongs and drums. A courtier suddenly appeared and bowed low. “You are summoned to the presence of his Imperial Highness,” he told them. Then he vanished.
Prime Minister Lu was thoughtful, It is strange indeed that we must find our way to the emperor ourselves. I wonder if this is another puzzle. It will be quite easy to reach the imperial quarters by following the noise of the gongs and drums, but it will be quite difficult to return here in the darkness. Trailing behind the other four officials, he carefully made a small mark at every corner so that he could find his way back.
As soon as the emperor had greeted the five emissaries, he dismissed them with instructions to return at once to their guest quarters.
“The first one to find his way back to the guesthouse will have solved the fourth puzzle,” he announced.
The first four officials stumbled and fumbled in the dark and soon were hopelessly lost in the confusion of the many passages. Treading softly, Prime Minister Lu felt for the marks he had notched at each turn and returned quickly to the guesthouse.
“Prime Minister Lu has won again!” the emperor declared. “But there is one final puzzle to solve tomorrow. It is the most important of all.”
When the five officials gathered the next day, they were faced with a long line of beautiful young girls in silken robes. T’ai-tsung announced, “My daughter, Wen-ch’en, is one of these girls. Which one is she?”
The first four emissaries, eager to make up for failing to solve the other puzzles, quickly chose one of the girls and said, “Your Imperial Highness, this is your daughter.”
But Prime Minister Lu had listened to the talk of the courtiers and the servants while the other officials had spent their time resting. He remembered that one courtier had spoken of Wen-ch’en’s long, glossy black hair while another talked of her pearl white skin. Yet someone else admired her graceful figure and the proud way she held her head high. But of most importance, Wen-ch’en’s little maid servant had told the prime minister that her mistress had a tiny mole on her left wrist so he looked for that.
Prime Minister Lu selected one of the girls and said, “Your Imperial Highness, this girl, most beautiful of all, is your daughter.”
“You have performed the task given you by your ruler perfectly,” the emperor said. “This is indeed my daughter, Wen-ch’en. I give her in marriage to your ruler. He is an extremely wise man to have placed you in his service.”

“While of these emblems we partake,”1 we began to sing. I wished we were singing a little faster, but I focused on the ordinance.
A calm came over me, settling my soul. The tone and meter of the organ were exactly appropriate to prepare us for the sacrament.
I looked with gratitude at our organist as he reverently swayed with the music. I thought back to our first meeting eight years earlier. Just a few months before we met, wildfires had destroyed Ed Bravenec’s home, along with most of his family’s possessions. As the missionaries and I shared a gospel discussion in his new mobile home, Brother Bravenec told us he played the organ.
“I play to express my testimony and love of God,” he said. Then we talked about whether he might play for our ward should he join the Church.
I looked at the ends of his fingers. A couple of them had been amputated. I was inspired by his faith, but I wondered about his capacity to play.
“I know that the Church would be grateful for you to share your gifts,” I said.
Brother Bravenec was satisfied with my response, and we went on to enjoy a good lesson and the beginning of a firm friendship. He was soon baptized and, as he had desired, became our ward organist.
Over the years since his baptism, I have watched as his health challenges led to the amputation of one of his toes. Not long after that, Sister Bravenec, who returned to Church activity when her husband became a member, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Then Brother Bravenec lost another toe.
We missed him for a few weeks as he cared for his wife and struggled through his ordeal. But soon he returned to church, sharing his testimony through the beautiful strains of the organ.
In 2019, Brother Bravenec learned that he would lose one of his legs. I was sad for him, thinking that his years at the organ had come to an end. But a few weeks after the surgery, Brother Bravenec hobbled into church on his new prosthetic leg.
Using canes to keep his balance, he slowly made his way to the organ. There, he sat on the organ bench, removed his prosthetic limb, and began playing the prelude music. A few minutes later, he played the opening hymn. Now it was time for the sacrament.
“In Jesus’ name and for his sake,” we sang—tone and meter perfect.

My name is Ben. I used to be the best trumpet player in our school band. Did you notice that I said “used to be”? When Bradley moved here from Centerville last month, everyone went gaga over how wonderful he was on the trumpet.
Mr. Gerhardt, the band director, still let me play the first-chair trumpet part, but I could see that my days as the band’s top-dog trumpet player were fast becoming history.
Today during band practice, Mr. Gerhardt announced, “Next week we’ll have tryouts for All-County Honor Band. Only first-chair players are eligible.”
I let out a sigh of relief. That meant me! Dad had said that if I made All-County Honor Band, he and Mom would buy me that new trumpet I wanted. That old, beat-up one I played now had probably been around since the fall of Jericho!
Then I nearly fell off my chair at Mr. Gerhardt’s next words: “Since Bradley was a first-chair player in Centerville before he moved here, I’m going to let him try out, too.”
I groaned. It looked like my free evenings were a thing of the past. I was going to have to actually practice my Honor Band music for the tryouts. I glared at Bradley. But he was too busy putting his trumpet away to notice.
I didn’t get much sympathy from my folks at dinner that night. “It isn’t fair!” I complained. “Mr. Gerhardt’s going to let the new guy in school try out for the Honor Band.”
Dad looked at me kind of funny. “So that’s why you’ve suddenly started practicing again!”
“He’s only been here a month,” I said. “Shouldn’t there be a rule about outsiders not being eligible for a year or so?”
“Would you want to represent your school if you knew you were second-best?” Dad has a habit of answering my questions with questions of his own. Usually hard ones, too, like that one. “It makes you think,” he always says. It gives me a headache! is what I think when he does it.
Now I had to practice my trumpet instead of play video games after school. And even if I practice an hour a day, that might not be enough to beat Bradley out of the Honor Band spot.
All the next week I practiced until my lips hurt where the mouthpiece pressed against them. The tryout music was getting all crumpled from being taken out of my trumpet case so many times. Finally I just stopped taking the music out—I had it memorized, anyway, by then.
During band practice on Wednesday, Mr. Gerhardt had our whole band try to play the Honor Band music. Boy, was it hard! Most of the other kids just stumbled around, losing their places, playing wrong notes. If it hadn’t been for Bradley and me, the music would have been a total disaster.
Since Bradley and I seemed to be keeping the music going on the right track, Mr. Gerhardt let us keep playing. I noticed that Bradley didn’t look at the music any more than I did.
He must have practiced a lot, too, I thought with satisfaction. Then I groaned. If he was practicing more, I would have to practice more, too, unless I wanted to give up on my dream of playing in the All-County Honor Band on my new trumpet. That dream was getting dimmer by the day, but I wasn’t ready just yet to give up on it!
When Mr. Gerhardt finally stopped the band, Bradley turned to me with a big grin on his face. “Hey, you’re pretty good! Want to come over to my house tonight? We could practice some great duets I brought from my last school.”
“Uh …” Bradley wasn’t supposed to be friendly! Didn’t he know that we were bitter rivals for Honor Band?
“I sure miss my old trumpet partner from Centerville,” Bradley said with a sigh. “We used to play duets together almost every day after school.”
I looked down in embarrassment.
“I guess you have something else planned,” Bradley said. “Maybe we can get together another time.”
I thought about how I was going to practice an hour a day, just to beat this guy out of Honor Band. Then I thought how much fun it would be to play duets with someone as good as he was. I was having a hard time remembering that he was supposed to be my rival, not my friend!
“Some other time,” I said as coolly as I could, turning away. But I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, like maybe I hadn’t handled the situation exactly right.
The tryouts for Honor Band were Friday afternoon. When it was time for the trumpets, Bradley played first. He played it so perfectly that even I had to applaud when he finished.
I didn’t do so bad, either, I thought to myself after I played. All those hours of practice have really paid off. The whole band waited nervously to hear whom the band director would choose.
When Mr. Gerhardt cleared his throat, everyone stopped breathing. I looked sideways at Bradley. He was looking down at the floor. I wondered if he was praying.
“It’s a hard choice to make,” Mr. Gerhardt began.
So, who is it? I muttered under my breath. Don’t make speeches—just tell us who won!
“A band is like a team,” he continued. “And a team is only as good as its individual players. That’s why we help each other, just as Bradley and Ben have been doing.”
I didn’t remember helping anyone except myself.
“They set an example, and they helped the newer members with their parts. I only wish I could choose both of them!”
Oh-oh! I thought. Here it comes! I held my breath.
“I have chosen Bradley to represent our school at the All-County Honor Band this year!”
You could hear the whooshing of thirty breaths being let out at once. Then the room got quiet as Bradley stood up and faced Mr. Gerhardt and the band.
“Thank you,” he said, “but I’m a newcomer here. I don’t deserve to be your representative.” He pointed at me. “Ben’s the one you should have!”
Suddenly I remembered Dad’s question. This time I already knew the answer. I stood up and faced the band. “Mr. Gerhardt made the right choice,” I said firmly. “The reason I wasn’t chosen was that Bradley played better than I did.” I felt my face redden, but I gripped my battered trumpet harder and went on, “I’m proud of our band, and I wouldn’t want the second-best player—me—to represent it.”
It was hard to tell Mom and Dad that I’d lost to Bradley, but I told them what he’d tried to do, too, and that felt good.
The next day, I poked Bradley and grinned at him. “How about us getting together after school today to play some duets? But watch out—next year we might have a different guy in Honor Band—one with a brand new trumpet!”

• Friedrichsdorf and Frankfurt, Germany, Monday, June 10: If anxious members of the Tabernacle Choir seek a confirmation of things to come, they receive it on this first concert day here on the lawn of the Frankfurt Germany Temple in the suburb of Friedrichsdorf. A twenty-minute outdoor “concert” scheduled to begin at 12:30 P.M. has been delayed some minutes due to heavy drizzle, but with five hundred townspeople looking on, those in charge move ahead with the public greetings between Friedrichsdorf Mayor Gerd Schmidt and Elder Russell M. Nelson. Drizzle continues. Then the choir begins to sing “Alleluia,” a song whose lyrics consist of one reverent word—alleluia, meaning “praise to God,” repeated sixty-five consecutive times. Within a minute, the rain stops. In a few more minutes, wind breaks up the clouds, blue skies appear, and sunlight beams down. A Frankfurt newspaper headed their story “Alleluia Stops the Rain.” Tonight’s opening concert in Frankfurt’s palatial Alte Oper before an audience of 2,250 is a striking, four-encore success.
• Zurich, Switzerland, Thursday, June 13: Following a Tuesday night concert in Strasbourg, France, in the scintillatingly acoustic Palais des Congrés hall before an enthusiastic audience of 2,000, tonight the choir sings in the Hallenstadion—an indoor stadium where hockey games and horse shows are held, and major musical figures often perform. Though it is impossible for even 313 voices to reverberate in this vast arena with its audience of 8,400, a beautiful spirit prevails. Far-off listeners seem riveted to their seats. Tonight’s sellout crowd is particularly noteworthy because, in contrast to all the other tour concerts (booked by the London firm Specialized Travel and promoted by local promoters in each city), this concert was booked and promoted by the members of the Church, at their request.
—Friday morning, June 14: A Church member delivers bags of candies to each choir member in appreciation for last night’s concert. Choir members vote to open no candies, but to transport them to Poland and Russia and give them to children.
• Budapest, Hungary, Saturday, June 15: A major change in the nature of the tour takes place tonight in the aged Opera House before 1,400 when the choir performs its first concert in a previously Communist-controlled, Eastern Bloc state. “The Spirit was so strong tonight you could almost reach out and touch it,” says a choir member after the first of many emotionally draining and spiritually soaring evenings. In tonight’s concert, the first of three “Music and the Spoken Word” performances is videotaped as part of the concert—before proud Hungarians who know that the segment will be broadcast throughout the world.
—Sunday, June 16: Elder Nelson thrills choir members in their Sunday sacrament meeting as he tells the details of the Church’s planting gospel seeds in the Eastern Bloc countries and the Russian Republic.
• Vienna, Austria, Monday, June 17: Tonight in the Musikverein, home of Brahms and many other musical giants, the second “Music and the Spoken Word” performance is videotaped for delayed broadcast worldwide. Two thousand joyful listeners, many of them Saints, do not want the choir to stop—even after six encores! A head of ORF SAT 3, a TV station televising the concert, says that tonight’s standing ovation is a rarity in the Musikverein, where he has previously seen only two others.
• Prague, Czechoslovakia, Tuesday, June 18: Another very spiritually rich concert experience, this time in Smetana Hall before 1,300, in the second former Eastern Bloc land visited by the choir. The evening becomes a lifetime memory for choir and audience when the first encore is sung—a Czech folk song, “Tece, Voda, Tece.” The song, understood by all to be about the elusiveness of liberty and freedom, has been banned during periods of Czech history because dictatorships did not want it fomenting rebellion among the people. Since the crumbling of Communism’s powers, the song is no longer banned—yet it is with some boldness that the choir sings it tonight. Not all Soviet soldiers have departed from Czechoslovakia.
The audience’s response is awesome—except for the choir, a great hush fills the hall. Over a third of the audience stands, some holding their arms up in the air, many tearful and weeping—some seeming nearly overcome—as the audience drinks in words and music with great emotion.
After the concert, a head of Czech TV observes that he has never before seen a standing ovation in Smetana Hall.
• Dresden, Germany, Wednesday, June 19: En route, the choir detours to lunch at the Freiberg Germany Temple grounds. Speaking to choir members, temple president Henry Burkhardt says, “It didn’t take long for citizens of Freiberg to say ‘our temple.’ Many times we see couples—young people who are not members of the Church and who are preparing to marry or have married—who come to have their picture taken with the temple in the background. They know they can’t go inside. But they know something about its being a symbol of everlasting marriage and love. They feel the spirit of the grounds.”
Tonight’s concert is the first in what used to be known as East Germany (the German Democratic Republic) prior to the coming down of the Berlin Wall on 9 November 1989. In the Kulturpalast, the 2,400-person audience introduces a first for the tour—their clapping will not stop until the last choir member has walked offstage five or more minutes after the last encore. Audience and choir members wave good-bye to each other for the entire five minutes.
• Berlin, Germany, Thursday, June 20: A very weary choir, running on the Spirit, love, and memory, performs two concerts, matinee and evening, in the glittering former Communist showcase, the restored Schauspielhaus. Tonight, more than 1,500 attenders foot-stamp uproarious ovations. The evening becomes doubly memorable for attenders when Herold Gregory, administrative assistant of the choir and former [1953 to 1957] mission president over East Germany, steps up to the microphone to wish all a good night and to announce that Germany’s lower house of parliament, the Bundestag, has just voted a few minutes ago to transfer its offices, the nation’s chancellor, and his cabinet from Bonn to Berlin. The response is ear-splitting!
• Warsaw, Poland, Saturday, June 22: A repeat again of emotional and spiritual outpourings. What it must be like not to have had freedom! At 3:30 P.M. the dedication of the first LDS chapel built on Polish soil occurs in Warsaw. Much media attention is given as a result of this “religious initiative.”
• Moscow, Russia, Monday, June 24: The third “Music and the Spoken Word” performance is videotaped during this evening’s Bolshoi Theatre concert before 2,400, seated three-deep in the five circular balcony tiers of this renowned hall. For many, another rich, emotional evening occurs, the same as at all concerts in the former Eastern Bloc lands. Hope and the Spirit of the Lord seem to press everywhere!
The first encore, “Hospodi Pomilui” (meaning “Lord, have mercy on us”), a hymn during which that phrase is repeated seventy-seven times, seems this night to be as a great prayer of national penance in this land that has been seen by many as a symbol of oppression. The choir’s great, emotional pleading of the words powerfully moves the entire audience.
At the dinner of state held after the concert, the vice president of the Russian Republic announces that on May 28, less than a month ago, this largest of the fifteen republics in the Soviet Union has given official recognition to the Church throughout the entire breadth and depth of the republic, which covers three-quarters of the land mass of the Soviet Union and holds approximately 150 million people.
Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve joins the choir entourage, enlarged this day by the hundred or more Utahns joining Brother Jon M. Huntsman in the dedication of a factory in Armenia that will produce high-tech concrete to house homeless Armenians suffering from a 1988 earthquake. In appreciation for the service the Church rendered to quake victims, a plot of land in the city of Yerevan is given to the Church by officials of the Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic. Elder Russell M. Nelson and Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve and Elder Hans B. Ringger of the Seventy express gratitude for the gift. The site will be used to construct a multipurpose building containing offices, a Church meetinghouse, and residences for Church volunteer workers helping to train Armenians in home construction.
• St. Petersburg, Russia, Thursday, June 27: How is it possible for the emotional, spiritual, and musical highs to keep on going! Tonight six encores are performed to a cheering, crying audience! For the second time, an audience will not stop clapping until the last choir member has walked offstage, audience and choir members poignantly waving good-bye to each other.
“Wonderful! Wonderful! Spiritual! Spiritual! Leningrad is happy again! This is a holiday,” calls out a man in strongly Russian-accented English. The concerts are now over. But a day remains for visiting new Russian friends and tomorrow’s closing fireside of choir music and the testimonies of Russian converts. Elder Nelson tells the choir: “You have been totally successful in all we expected you to do.”

The story was told of General Antigonus (382–301 B.C., general of Alexander the Great) who was preparing to have his men attack the enemy. The plan was devised, the strategy decided, and the hour determined. General Antigonus’s men were outnumbered severely. The signal to attack was given. No one attacked. In fact, they were about ready to retreat ingloriously. General Antigonus asked what the problem was. The captains replied that they were outnumbered so severely that the men dared not attack. General Antigonus thought for a moment and then asked, “For how many then wilt thou reckon me?” This spirit spread through the ranks; they attacked and won a great battle.

You want to find proof that Justina Tavana and Melinda Ah Chong don’t spend every waking hour together. You’ve been told the two 17-year-olds are friends—best friends, actually. Okay, fine. But they’re not that good of friends, are they?
Always together? Come on, you think. No way.
So you start investigating.
Your first stop is their school.
Both Justina—Tina to her friends—and Melinda are high school students at the Church College of Western Samoa, a Church-sponsored school with an elementary, middle, and high school on its sprawling campus in Apia, the capital of this island nation.
As you poke your head in Justina’s first-period class, which happens to be biology, there sitting next to her is Melinda. It’s 7:50 A.M., and they’re both listening to a lecture. When second period rolls around, a computer class, they go together. Third is physics. Same deal. They’re seated front and center. Fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh. Why bother even checking?
You start to notice a pattern. You began your search looking for proof, and so far you’ve come up empty.
All right, what about before school?
You’re told they take early-morning seminary together, then walk to school. “You can go to the class,” the principal tells you. But you discover they get up at five and are in class by six. “Um, uh, that’s pretty early. I’ll just take your word for it,” you say.
You have another plan anyway. What about after school? Maybe they’re inseparable during classes, but once school’s over. … Aha, maybe you’re on to something.
The last bell of the day has already rung, and as you walk around campus there are still a few students milling around. But there’s no sign of either Justina or Melinda. Then you walk by the chemistry lab, and there are two girls in goggles and aprons. Yep, Justina and Melinda. After a little more checking, you discover why they’re there. They’re both science whizzes.
You walk to the principal’s office to inquire. He tells you Justina took first-place honors in a science competition when she did the best job neutralizing acids with different concentrations of bases. It’s called titration, which is a new word to you.
You ask a few more questions, and you learn Melinda brought home the top prize in Western Samoa’s annual science fair, a competition involving all the nation’s high schools. For her project she made alcohol from mangos; then she used the alcohol as a disinfectant to kill bacteria that she also raised.
You’re suddenly realizing that in your effort to prove Justina and Melinda aren’t together all the time, you’re getting nowhere fast. Maybe they are always together, you decide. So you corner them and begin asking questions.
“We love to play netball too,” Melinda tells you. And in oh, by-the-way fashion, Justina reveals that their Church College team was the national champion in the sport that has basketball as its root. “We beat Avele College for the title.”
“On Saturdays we usually get together and hang out, watch videos and stuff,” Melinda adds. “We only live about five minutes apart.”
And Sundays? “We’re in the same ward (the Apia Fifth Ward), and we’re both in the Laurel class presidency.”
It’s then that you finally give up. They are best friends and they are inseparable. Now you want to find out why.

I live in New South Wales, Australia, where we are blessed with some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Golden sand and crystal blue waters grace our coastlines. A favorite pastime for me and my friends is walking along a nearby beach. While walking we talk and enjoy each other’s company.
One afternoon, when we had enjoyed the day, a friend of mine noticed that a locket I usually wear was missing from around my neck. I was particularly fond of the locket since my grandmother had given it to me as a special birthday present.
I frantically searched up and down the beach looking for my prized possession but to no avail. Soon my friends realized my distress and joined in the search. After searching for a while, one of my friends suggested we have a prayer.
By now it was nearly dusk and the incoming tide was growing higher. Kneeling in the sand, we asked Heavenly Father to guide us to my locket. As we rose one of my friends headed for a part of the beach we had already combed. “It can’t be there,” I said. “We’ve already searched every grain of sand.” Still my friend continued on his way up the beach while the rest of us maintained the search.
The next thing I knew, my friend was running down the beach with a grin from ear to ear. He had found my locket and rescued it from the tide just in time.
It was a simple thing, maybe even a little bit trivial, but Heavenly Father knew it was important to me. Just after we found the locket, I realized something. If Heavenly Father answered a prayer about something as small as a piece of jewelry, surely He would answer prayers about more important things, like times when I need guidance to make good decisions or strengthen my testimony.
Now I know that when I pray, the answers will come. I just have to listen.

“This was a once in a lifetime experience to be part of a team of like-minded people, freely giving of their time and enjoying being part of the community,” reflects David Cook about his experiences serving as a volunteer for the Commonwealth Games held in Birmingham this past summer.
David is a member of the Church and worked within a team of 14,000 other volunteers who were critical to the successful operation of the games.
His role, experiences, and feelings along with other volunteers in the games who are also members of the Church living in the greater Birmingham area are shared below.
David Cook, Coventry Stake
David was selected to assist in the interview process from September through December of 2021, to pare down over 40,000 applicants to the 24,000 who were eligible for an interview. After reviewing applications and a 30-minute interview, 14,000 individuals were finally selected to receive one of over three hundred roles as a volunteer. He later provided training for specific roles at the games’ venues and looked after the welfare of the volunteers.
He says, “I interviewed amazing people, I served with amazing people. I worked with amazing people.”
David recalls that those applying for roles as volunteers often expressed the sentiment, “The games are an opportunity for me to give something back to the city that has helped me so much and that I have enjoyed. It has meant so much to me.”
According to David Cook, there were over 6,000 athletes and officials at the Games. “We all agreed that this was a ‘once in a lifetime’ experience as the games happen every four years and could occur in any Commonwealth country. It is unlikely that they will be in Birmingham again in my life.”

Last summer a group of young women from Alpine, Utah, decided that they would become “more fit for the kingdom.” They determined to focus on the temple by walking from the Draper Utah Temple to the Salt Lake Temple, a total distance of 22 miles (35 km), just as one of the pioneers, John Rowe Moyle, had done. Brother Moyle was a stonemason who was called by the prophet, Brigham Young, to work on the Salt Lake Temple. Each week he walked the distance of 22 miles from his home to the temple. One of his jobs was to carve the words “Holiness to the Lord” on the east side of the Salt Lake Temple. It was not easy and he had many obstacles to overcome. At one point, he was kicked in the leg by one of his cows. Because it would not heal, he had to have this leg amputated. But that did not stop him from his commitment to the prophet and to work on the temple. He carved a wooden leg, and after many weeks he again walked the 22-mile distance to the temple to do the work he had committed to do.

In a recent Sunday Relief Society meeting, I listened to a young mother share part of her journey of conversion. She had grown up in the Church, with parents who taught her the gospel. She attended Primary, Young Women, and seminary. She loved to learn and discover truths. Her constant quest was to know why. Elder Russell M. Nelson has said, “The Lord can only teach an inquiring mind.” And this young woman was teachable.
After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.
With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.
During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.
She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.
Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.
“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”
In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”
About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”
Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”
My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.

Whoooo! Cole listened to thewind blow outside. Cole thought about the nest in the tree. He hoped the baby birds were OK in the storm. The next morning Cole ran outside. He looked up at the tree. No nest! The mommy bird looked worried. Then Cole saw the nest. It was on the ground. “Chirp! Chirp!” the baby birds said. Dad put a ladder against the tree. He carefully put the nest back in the tree. “Chirp! Chirp!” the mommy bird said. The birds were happy! And Cole was happy he could help some of God’s creations.

I was leaving for Malawi, Africa, in less than six hours, and my bags still weren’t packed. I had purchased the biggest suitcases available at the local thrift store and crammed my belongings into the smallest space possible. I had saved the bulk of my travel allowance to buy school and medical supplies that Malawians desperately needed.
Staring at piles of books, pencils, medicines, and bandages, I agonized over what items would improve the quality of life most for the people I was going to serve as an English teacher. What would make the greatest contribution toward individual and national progress? I packed and deliberated through the night, finishing just moments before my ride to the airport arrived.
Forty-three hours and thousands of miles later, I arrived in Malawi—the “Warm Heart of Africa”—a country known for its generosity in accepting refugees from neighboring countries plagued by war, famine, and floods. Although I was not a refugee, I experienced the same warmth and acceptance from nearly everyone I met. This was especially true within the Church.
After a long day of bus rides, I was greeted by two brothers who had borrowed bicycles to transport me the remaining miles to the Sitima Branch. We bumped along a red dirt path past baobab trees and mud huts. Upon our arrival, the branch members literally greeted me with open arms. On the Sabbath day, the branch held sacrament meeting under a canopy of thatch with the congregation seated on woven grass mats. The meeting place was humble, but the Spirit was rich.
I was enjoying a similar spirit in the Blantyre Branch when Sister Frampton, a senior missionary, approached me with a big smile and a Personal Progress book.
“We just received these!” she said. “It looks like a wonderful program, but it wasn’t around when I was young. It would mean so much to the girls if you could share your experiences with Personal Progress!” She squeezed my shoulder and bustled off to greet someone else.
During sacrament meeting I stared at the book like a long-forgotten but familiar friend. I traced the letters on the cover: P-R-O-G-R-E-S-S. Malawi’s constant contrasts of poverty and rich traditions forced me to consider this word daily, but never in this light. I opened the book and pored over the words I once skimmed as a Beehive. The introductory message burned with new clarity and brightness, as if I were discovering it for the first time.
As I addressed this group of Malawian young women, I knew something momentous was occurring, and the girls sensed it too. They received the books with such reverence and gratitude that I felt a twinge of guilt remembering my own tattered book, stashed in a dusty box.
For most of these girls, these were the first books they had ever owned. They opened them tenderly, and I read aloud, “You are a beloved daughter of Heavenly Father, prepared to come to earth at this particular time for a sacred and glorious purpose” (Young Women Personal Progress [2001], 1). My voice cracked, and the words on the page blurred as my eyes filled with tears. The Spirit was unmistakable as it testified of the truthfulness of this message.
I remembered the supplies I had packed and delivered months ago. The people had accepted them graciously and put them to use immediately, but I felt frustrated I had nothing more to give.
I looked into the shining eyes of these beautiful Malawian young women. There was no second-guessing, no frustration, just an overwhelming sense of peace and hope for genuine, lasting progress. Here in a tiny room in the Warm Heart of Africa, a few of Heavenly Father’s daughters were embarking on a journey that will bless their lives and countless others with opportunities for eternal progress.

Years of miracles and opportunities led Australian Scott Hamilton to a first place Praiseworthy Award from the career development organisation, Latter-day Saints in Publishing, Media and the Arts (LDSPMA).
A member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Scott attended the LDSPMA Awards Gala held at Utah Valley University, in Orem, Utah, USA, in October 2023, where he accepted his Praiseworthy Award for a demo video of his original song, ‘I See the Christ.’
Scott wrote the winning song for a musical he is developing called One Spring Morn, which celebrates the lives of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his wife Emma. ‘I See the Christ’ and another song from the musical, ‘Bring on Tomorrow’, were both shortlisted for awards in the Musical Theatre category.
Produced in Salt Lake City in 2022, the demo video for ‘I See the Christ’ features vocalists Casey Elliot, from the musical trio Gentri, and Savannah Stevenson, a leading lady from London’s West End. They are accompanied by Jayne Galloway on piano and Grammy-nominated cellist, Nicole Pinnell.
Scott first saw Nicole play in the film adaptation of Rob Gardner’s musical production, Lamb of God, where, through her cello, she stunningly represented the voice of Christ. Following a prompting that spoke to his heart, Scott reached out to her via social media.
“I feel that Heavenly Father truly opened a door for me through Nicole’s incredible talent, generosity and connections,” Scott recalls. “I am so grateful that she had the heart to be willing to listen to my music.”
Nicole introduced Scott to Casey Elliot, and Scott reached out to Savannah Stevenson, also via social media, after seeing her perform on a Brigham Young University programme. Savannah sang the solo for, “Bring on Tomorrow,’ and in the duet, ‘I See the Christ’ with Casey.
When filming for the demo video was complete, shortly after returning to Australia, Scott suffered a brain aneurysm and extensive bleed in the frontal lobe of his brain. An emergency surgery preserved his life and thankfully—miraculously—he was able to continue with his music.
That same year in May, he remotely directed the recordings of two more of his songs, connecting by Zoom in to Salt Lake City’s Funk Studios.
“I am eternally grateful to Heavenly Father and the amazing surgeons for saving my life, and for my wife, Jo, for gently pushing me on this musical journey for nearly 15 years,” says Scott.
He is equally grateful for his parents, Nanette and Frank, who nurtured his musical talent from childhood. Shortly before Scott’s mother passed away in 2020, he promised her he would continue writing music, and so he has.
“Having a close call with death causes one to refocus one’s priorities in life. For me they are faith and family, and of course more faith-promoting music,” says Scott.
He is now orchestrating and preparing for the launch of his long-awaited musical, One Spring Morn. With a premiere expected in 2025—exactly 205 years since the First Vision of Joseph Smith—its story will explore the experiences of Joseph and Emma Smith, their feelings of faith and devotion to their Saviour, Jesus Christ, and their gratitude for His tender mercies.
Look out for a preview concert based on this musical in Melbourne, Australia, in June.

I was down in a husbands-and-wives meeting in Provo years ago when a lovely sister bore her testimony as to the joy that had come into her home since her husband had become active in the Church. She told about going through the temple with her husband. She told how he had been inactive, how he had smoked and hadn’t been advanced in the priesthood, and how someone took hold of him and finally helped him to become worthy and ready to receive the priesthood; and the bishop had finally given him a recommend to go to the temple. After she had described that wonderful evening, she said, “Here, five little girls came in to be sealed to their father and mother. This man of God pronounced us a family for the eternities.” And as she finished this story and bore her testimony, she looked over the pulpit and down in front of her where her husband was seated. She seemed to forget for that moment that there was anybody there but just the two of them, and she said to him, “Daddy, I can’t tell you how happy the girls now are and how grateful we are for what you have done for us, because, you see, Daddy, except for you who holds the priesthood, neither the children nor I could be together as a family in the hereafter. Thank God for our daddy who holds the key and unlocks the door to an eternal family home.”

I knew of a couple in the Tongan islands who discovered what their mission together was. Years ago as a young missionary, I was impressed by this couple who were always helping the missionaries and others. Every time I went to their home I would find them reading the scriptures or making a meal for a missionary or taking care of a neighbor’s child or preparing a Relief Society lesson or doing some sort of service. They were not blessed with children of their own, but they were always helping other people’s children.

Years later, back in Tonga as the mission president, I was asked if I would visit an elderly widow named Luisa. When I was given the address, I realized it was the lady I had come to appreciate so many years before.

It was late afternoon when we drove up to her home. I was surprised to see that hardly anything had changed. It was a neat, clean home, but a very humble one. As I walked up to the house I noticed her waiting by the open door. As she held her hand out I realized that she had gone blind. Embracing her, I realized also that she had not long to stay in this life as she had a frail body of skin and bones.

We sat and visited, and she talked about her desire to help the “poor” people. I suggested that she may need some help herself. She kindly informed me that she was rich and had nothing to worry about.

I was a little confused and began to inquire. I found that she and her husband had often saved money to pay their air fare to the New Zealand Temple only to end up lending it to someone else who needed it more. When all the facts came out, I said to her, “Luisa, how can you say you don’t have anything to worry about? You have no husband, you have no children, you’re blind, you are in poor health, you live in a poor home, you haven’t been to the temple. How can you say you’re rich?”

Then she stopped all of my questions by quietly informing me that she was rich because she knew the Lord was pleased with her life. She said, “I know I will be with my husband soon. I know the Lord will bless us with a family. I may not have done all that I could do, but I know that the Lord is pleased with what I have done.”

Consider D&C 6:7, wherein the Lord says, “Seek not for riches but for wisdom, and behold, the mysteries of God shall be unfolded unto you, and then shall you be made rich. Behold, he that hath eternal life is rich.”

Luisa had taken the time to discover her mission and calling in life and had done whatever was necessary to fulfill it. She had obtained the “wisdom” spoken of.

When my wife and I were a young married couple, we tried repeatedly to establish a firm habit of reading the scriptures together every day as a family. When our oldest child was about seven years old, we finally made it a daily habit. Reading first thing in the morning, we continued faithfully from that time forward. Once the habit was established with the other children, the younger children were eager to participate as they became old enough. Often we had to read before 6:00 a.m. because of early-morning seminary.

Young married couples are in a position to start their own righteous family traditions—holding daily family scripture study, having family prayer, and preparing their children for missions and temple marriage.

Hanna twisted the dish towel and snapped it at the imaginary enemy in the middle of the kitchen. “Take that, Black Knight!”
Her friend Ashley leaned against the counter, holding her sides. “That towel makes a silly sword, but I’m sure you finished him off,” she laughed.
Hanna made a cape of the dish towel and put her foot on the imaginary evil knight.
Her mom peeked in. “Speaking of finishing things, girls, if you want me to drop you off at the skating rink, you’ll have to hustle. I’m leaving in ten minutes.”
Ashley jumped. “Let’s hurry.”
“Don’t worry,” said Hanna. “We’ll let the rest soak and drip dry.” She dumped the silverware and utensils into a bowl, squeezed in some soap, and turned on the tap. The mess was soon lost in bubbles. Hanna and Ashley turned over the clean, wet dishes and pots to dry.
“That looks better,” said Hanna. She doubted whether her mom would get angry in front of Ashley.
Hanna’s mom reappeared. She scowled at the dishes, but then smiled. “Well, let’s go.”
In the car, the girls talked about skating backward and about rounding corners on one leg. Hanna stopped in the middle of a sentence when her mom pulled to the curb, reached across their laps, and opened their door.
“What are you doing, Mom? We’re only halfway there. We’ll be late for our lesson.”
“I know,” said her mom.
Hanna looked confused, but Ashley tugged at her friend’s arm. “Come on, we’ll walk the rest of the way.” Then she thanked Hanna’s mom for the ride.
The car pulled away. Hanna stared at Ashley. “Why did you say thank you?”
“That’s just the kind of thing my mom would do. She calls it a ‘consequence,’” answered Ashley. “Remember, we only did half the dishes.”
“Yes, but we were counting on my Mom’s help,” objected Hanna.
“And she was counting on ours.”
“Now you sound like a parent,” Hanna said. She looked betrayed. “Consequence sounds like a fancy word adults would use instead of punishment.”
“In our family it isn’t. We have meetings where everyone decides what rules will make us a good family.” Ashley found it hard to explain. “Come to our family meeting tonight, Hanna. You’ll see what I mean.”
“Right after I do the dishes,” joked Hanna.
That evening Hanna cleaned up quickly. She was curious about family meetings. As she slipped through the gate that separated their yards, she thought about Ashley’s comments.
Ashley invited her in and told her that the family knew that she was there to watch. Then she led her to the kitchen, where the others had gathered. Beth, the oldest of the four children, had a notepad and pen. John was combing his hair, and Eric tapped the table edge as if it were a drum. Ashley’s mom and dad greeted her with smiles.
It doesn’t exactly look like a courtroom, thought Hanna. She took the empty seat and leaned forward.
After a prayer, John started. “Beth borrows my basketball and doesn’t let me know. I don’t mind sharing, but I’d like to be asked.”
“I know how you feel,” said Beth. “Ashley borrows my T-shirts without asking.”
Hanna waited for an argument to start.
“Sometimes we all forget to ask before we borrow. Let’s talk about consequences that would remind us to ask first,” Eric said.
“How about fifty lashes with a wet dish towel?” Ashley winked at Hanna. Everyone laughed. “Seriously,” she went on, “how about, whoever you borrow from gets to claim something of yours for a day?”
Everyone nodded. “That was easy,” said Beth, jotting down the decision.
“Here’s a problem that doesn’t seem simple,” said Ashley’s mom. “What should we do about people being late for dinner?”
“That seems easy to me,” snickered John. “The people who are on time get to eat it all.”
“That’s a consequence,” admitted Ashley’s dad. “But it’s too tough. We could keep a plate of food warm in the oven.”
“Then it would seem like my consequence,” said Mom, “especially if I want to clean up right after dinner.”
“The late person could have to settle for a cold sandwich,” suggested Eric.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad consequence to me.” Hanna wasn’t sure she should participate. Her face reddened. “I love peanut butter sandwiches.”
“Hanna is right,” said Dad. “Sometimes that consequence would seem more like a reward.”
“Mom did say that cleanup is harder if there are stragglers,” said Beth. “I think the consequence should involve cleanup.”
“That’s logical,” agreed John.
Mom smiled too. “How does this sound: anyone who is late for dinner will be responsible for putting away leftovers and clearing the table. And whoever misses the meal does the dishes alone.”
Everyone liked the idea. Beth added it to the family notebook.
“Does anyone else have a problem to work on today?” asked Dad.
“Just one,” said Eric. “I made a carrot cake and some cocoa. Now I have to find someone to eat them.”
“I think,” Hanna said, smiling at Ashley, “that we should get ready for an enjoyable consequence.”

“He little intended his last joke with her to turn out as it did. By the way of amusement, he had been telling her before we came to the last canyon, Emigration, that her wagon was going to tip over, in fact, he knew it would. She said that if it did she would tell Brigham. And sure enough it did tip clear over and lifted on the bows. It was a very hard canyon for men to drive down. Riley was awfully surprised. He was only a boy and was terribly frightened. No one worked harder than he to get it righted. With the help of the men in the camp he got it up into the road which was very sideling [steep]. It looked pretty dilapidated with the bows all smashed down, but did very little damage to the contents and as it was our last day before entering the Valley, he managed very well. Riley never heard whether she told Brigham or not.”