Gospel Story Finder

While showing and discussing these gifts in an institute class, one young woman asked, “What’s the gift to weep?”
Another class member hesitatingly raised her hand and then said quietly, “I can tell you about that.” She then made reference, without specific details, to an extremely trying time in her life. During that time a friend came by to offer what help she could. The class member said that after describing her difficulties to her friend, all the friend could do was put her arm around her shoulder and weep. Our class member was blessed by her friend’s exercise of the gift to weep, showing that she shared her sorrow, which made the burden a little lighter.

In many ways, Ricardo has already begun his missionary service. “He was an example to me because he always went to church,” says Ricardo’s grandmother, Mavila Ruiz Cárdenas. For several years she had listened to the missionaries who came to visit with the family. And all the while Ricardo was there: sitting in and listening to the discussions, faithfully attending church each Sunday, even teaching his grandmother the hymns.
When he was eight years old and attending church by himself, he had not felt prepared for baptism. But, says Ricardo, “when my grandmother said she was ready to be baptized, then I was sure I was ready also.” So when Ricardo was 10, he and his grandmother were baptized on the same day.
No longer does Ricardo walk to church alone. Now every Sunday he puts on his shirt and tie, takes his grandmother by the hand, and they walk together. Who knows? In time, Ricardo will probably be leading others to church with him.

It was the middle of winter and I was serving my eighth month as a missionary in the Asana area of the Bergen Norway District. Although we tracted many hours, we taught few discussions. A baptism seemed like a miracle.
Bergen is a city built on and among seven mountains on the west coast of Norway. The mountains catch every storm that rolls up or down the coast. The clouds dump their rain on missionaries and nonmissionaries alike. The winds blow the rain horizontally, so umbrellas are used more like shields. We were lucky if our raincoats and boots dried overnight so we could wear them the next day.
One particular day the wind and rain were even much worse than usual. My companion, Sister Dolinsky, and I debated the wisdom of going out at all in such harsh weather. We knew if we didn’t we were sure to feel that depressing feeling missionaries feel when they aren’t out working. The severe weather helped us to decide to stay in and catch up on our records.
The day passed, and the storm showed no signs of stopping. Soon it was 5:30—time for us to go out for our evening tracting. We could see the fjord from our window; the water was dark and choppy. The winds were blowing full force, and the rain beat against the window. We knew we couldn’t stay in all evening too, so we dropped to our knees and asked the Lord for the strength we would need to go back out. When we got up, Sister Dolinsky said she felt the Lord wanted us to read Alma 17. We sat down at our table and began to read about Alma and the four sons of Mosiah. In verse five we read: “Now these are the circumstances which attended them in their journeyings, for they had many afflictions; they did suffer much, both in body and in mind, such as hunger, thirst and fatigue, and also much labor in the spirit.”
The fierceness of the storm seemed to diminish, and our discomfort seemed very minor as we read about those missionaries’ sufferings. The Spirit filled our tiny apartment as we continued to read verses 10–12 [Alma 17:10–12]:
“And it came to pass that the Lord did visit them with his Spirit, and said unto them: Be comforted. And they were comforted.
“And the Lord said unto them also: Go forth among the Lamanites [we substituted Norwegians for Lamanites], thy brethren, and establish my word; yet ye shall be patient in long-suffering and afflictions, that ye may show forth good examples unto them in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls.
“And it came to pass that the hearts of the [missionaries] took courage to go forth unto the [Norwegians] to declare unto them the word of God.”
After reading those verses we knew that the Lord knew the discomfort we experienced tracting in such harsh weather, yet we also knew that he expected us to take courage and go forth in affliction to bring the word of God to the people we were called to serve. Our afflictions were small compared to those of Alma and the sons of Mosiah.
We put on our coats and took the bus to our tracting area. At the first door we knocked on we found a young man who worked out on the North Sea on an oil rig. He said he wasn’t usually home, but the storm had kept him from going out to sea to work. We taught him about the Book of Mormon, and he said he would like to read it. We gave him a copy and left with a good feeling.
The knowledge that the Lord knew of my small sufferings as a missionary, and that his Spirit comforted and encouraged us to continue with his work by inspiring my companion and me to turn to the scriptures, stayed with me the rest of my mission and will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Andy Mair has heard many of the stories about sacrifices made in building the first Nauvoo Temple. He knows about the men and boys who cut stone by hand, hauled heavy loads with just horses and mules, went without good food and clothing, and spent every minute they could building a beautiful House of the Lord.
Andy has plenty to eat and wear and because he’s only 14 he’s not really allowed to work on the temple site. But Andy has made sacrifices. He willingly left his friends and home to come with his family to Nauvoo where his father would oversee the reconstruction of the Nauvoo Temple. “I am not sorry that I came,” says Andy. “I have been able to learn a lot more about the history of the Church and Joseph Smith. I can say that I have walked and lived where the Prophet Joseph and the early leaders of the Church did. As I see the temple workers, I notice that they all have shoes and shirts. They also have modern equipment like cranes, lifts, cement trucks, dump trucks, tractors, and power tools. I try to imagine how people in the 1840s built such a huge building without these things.”
Also, during the construction of the temple, Andy has seen what kind of man his dad is. “It means a lot to me to have my dad be able to oversee the construction of this temple, because I know I am one of a few young men who is able to participate so closely in such an historic event. My dad is a great example to me of hard work and dedication.”
Andy and his new friends in Nauvoo keep track of the reconstruction. One friend, Tally Smith, says, “It’s special to drive by and notice more stone going up or another window in place.”
Amanda Smith also has loved watching the temple go up. “It’s amazing to have a temple right up the road—a temple that’s really a part of your life because you’ve watched it and seen the changes.”
One unique event that took place at the start of the construction was the laying of all four cornerstones. For most temples built today the cornerstone laying is completed as the building is dedicated, but in rebuilding the Nauvoo Temple, the sequence of events from the nineteenth century was duplicated as much as possible.
On April 6, 1841, the members of the Church in Nauvoo gathered at the temple site for the laying of all four cornerstones. Under the Prophet Joseph’s instructions, each cornerstone was moved into place under the direction of the presidents of the various quorums of the priesthood. In those days, the Aaronic Priesthood quorum presidents were all grown men.
But on November 5, 2000, the quorum presidents of the Aaronic Priesthood—representing the deacons and teachers—were Jared Brown, 13, and Hans Smith, 15, both from the Nauvoo Illinois First Ward. They were surprised and honored to be asked to participate in the cornerstone laying.
“I had always thought it would be cool if the Nauvoo Temple were rebuilt,” says Hans. “Now it is happening, and I am going to be here to see it.
“One evening, my stake president, Durell Nelson, came over to my house and told me there was going to be a special cornerstone ceremony. He asked me if I would be interested in being part of this historic event since I was the teachers quorum president of the Nauvoo Ward, and the original teachers quorum president had helped at the original cornerstone ceremony. Wow!”
On the day of the ceremony, Hans was right there with President Gordon B. Hinckley and Bishop H. David Burton, the Presiding Bishop of the Church. Hans says, “I was humbled to represent teachers all over the world at this event. Because I have cerebral palsy, I needed help to scoop in the mortar and was grateful to have Bishop Burton help me. I was grateful that those in charge didn’t let my handicap stand in the way of my participating in this great event.”
As deacons quorum president, Jared also participated. “I felt really blessed because there are so many other young men who would have loved this opportunity. It was probably the best experience of my life. I got to meet the prophet. I also got to keep the trowel I used. It’s something I can always remember and someday tell my children.”

We have a grandson serving a mission in the Philippines. In one of his letters he explained how he and his companion were teaching a man who had a drinking problem. They had invited him to quit drinking, but to no avail.

On the subsequent visit, my grandson described how he became quite bold and told the man that if he did not stop drinking, they would not be able to teach him anymore, because he was always drunk when they came to his home and he could not benefit from their message when he was drunk. The man agreed to stop drinking. And the next time the missionaries visited him, he was sober for the first time in years.

All of my five children read my grandson's letter. And then the fun began. We all started talking about how to help someone who is not like us. My grandson had never known an alcoholic before. So he had to reach down deep to know how to help him. He had to call upon the Lord. We have created a group email for our family so that my children who live in four different states can communicate easily with us and their siblings. Some began sharing scriptures, others shared experiences--all focusing on how we can relate more effectively to those with whom we don't have too much in common. It was a rich learning and teaching experience. My wife and I were learning from our children. They were learning from us. We were all learning from each other.

We were poor for the most part because my father spent his small paycheck drinking on weekends. We were always hungry. When my mother tried to make Father see how we were suffering, he would become violently angry and would strike her until she was hurt and sobbing. How hard she tried to defend us children and care for us.
One Sunday, my little sister returned home from a new church where she had gone with her cousin several times. She brought with her a missionary couple to meet the family. Elder and Sister Call were so very kind and humble. They began to teach us about the gospel of Jesus Christ and his true church. After hearing the discussions and praying much for the Spirit to guide us, we agreed to be baptized.
My father changed and gave up his bad habits. He quit drinking, smoking, and leaving his family hungry on weekends. I was so happy I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but I was afraid to.
Our lives began to change spiritually, but financially we were still poor. My childish longing for a real Christmas with presents meant just for me never materialized.
I am a grown young man now. I am fulfilling a mission for the Church. Now I can look back and realize I have been blessed with some very special gifts—not the ones that children open at Christmastime, but gifts that are forever and can be cherished each day of my life.
I always wished my own father would express his love for me. I never heard him say how he felt about me as I was growing up. Recently I received a letter from my father here in the mission field. It said, “Son, you have made me a very happy man serving on your mission.” At the end of the letter, he said, “Son, I love you. Keep up the good work of the Lord.”
My eyes filled with tears of joy. It was the first time he had ever said those words to me. I replied to my father’s letter and returned a gift to him. I said, “Dad, I love you too!”

“When I was in junior high school, some of my friends made fun of me because I was a member of the Church. I tried to tell them about my testimony, but I was kind of ashamed. I decided to pray about it, and after my prayer I was able to express my testimony to them. Later one of my friends asked me questions about the Church, and others started to listen. From that day on, my friends have shown more respect to me and to the Church.”—Andrés Navarro

My husband and I were living in on-campus housing at the Texas State Technical Institute when our two oldest children were four and two. It was our first experience in Texas hill country, and I loved it! Every spring, central Texas is awash with flowers. In gardens, woods, vacant fields, on roadsides, everywhere I looked there were more blossoms to see.
I took my children on stroller rides nearly every day. We’d find new places to explore, and I let the children pick as many wildflowers as they wanted. We’d finish our ride through a neighborhood where most of the houses had beautifully maintained flower gardens.
One day we came around a corner to discover a large mass of papers spread across one of the flower gardens. The wind quickly scattered the paper all over the yard. I decided to tidy up the litter before it spread further. I grabbed handfuls of pages and stuffed them in my diaper bag.
As I looked down, I realized I was holding pornography. Appalled, I asked my children to stay in the stroller as I snatched up the rest of the pages. I became upset as I saw glimpses of things I never wanted to see. In my heart, I began complaining, “Why didn’t God warn me to go another way home?”
Then I heard the unmistakable huff of school bus brakes. About a dozen kids got off the bus. They all moved past the yard that had been filled with pornography only moments before.
In that moment, my whole perspective changed. I now knew why I hadn’t been warned to go another way. I was grateful I was there to pick up those pages so those children could be spared seeing those damaging images. As I made my way back home, I thought, “What if the school bus had come later? What if I had never found out why I had that experience? How long would I have been upset with God?”

Illustration by Christiane Beauregard
Two years after my wife, Madeleinne, and I were baptized and confirmed, I became less active and quit going to church. Every Sunday morning, she would encourage me to get up and go with her, but I would say no.
“I’m tired. Let me sleep,” I would say. And later I would go play soccer.
Madeleinne would get up by herself and head to the chapel with our son, Lucas. In the rain or the cold, she always went.
Looking back, I realize that Satan was attacking me. He convinced me that I was fine without the Church. He told me, “You’re good, you’re calm, you’re comfortable.” But in reality, I had lost blessings, progress, and happiness. Thankfully, my wife and my Heavenly Father helped me see things clearly.
One Friday night about a year after I quit attending church, I had a dream. I dreamed that I was in a beautiful countryside, walking hand in hand with my wife and my son. We were very happy.
But then it began to grow dark. It became so dark that I couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, I noticed that I was no longer holding hands with my wife and son. I called their names, hoping they would return. I wanted them back, and I wanted the darkness to disappear.
At that moment, I experienced what it means to be truly miserable. I had lost Madeleinne and Lucas. They had moved ahead without me, leaving me alone, surrounded by darkness.
When I awoke the next morning, I realized that my Father in Heaven had given me a sign. If I didn’t return to church and take my wife and son to the temple to be sealed, I would lose them. I would not have them in the next life. I would be in a lost, miserable state.
“Tomorrow,” I told Madeleinne, “I’ll go to church.”
Every Sunday morning since then, I have gone to church with my family. I have not missed a single meeting since that dream five years ago. We were eventually sealed in the temple in September 2016.
I’m thankful for all my,blessings. I’m especially grateful for my family and for my wife’s courage, strength, and example. I’m grateful that she and my Heavenly Father never gave up on me. I am the man I am today thanks to them.

My mother died when I was a young mother. I still needed her counsel and advice. After her cancer was diagnosed, she lived only six weeks. Initially, my concern was for my father. I felt grateful that Mom had not suffered long and that her death had been a sweet experience for us. But a few weeks later Mother’s Day and her birthday were coming, and I began to miss her terribly. I wanted her arms around me, and I wanted to know that she was all right. I wanted to tell her that I loved her and missed her.
One night as I was praying and crying (which I did often then), I felt comfort fill my body—suddenly and powerfully. The feeling restored me; it gave me peace. It did not last long physically, yet it was immensely comforting. I knew what it was—the Lord’s love encircling me and granting me peace and strength. But just as important, that moment has remained in my memory as a sweet gift to unwrap and remember when life is difficult.

But in the palm of my hand I hold another indelible reminder, a glaring scar, one which resulted from a different motive, an act not so pleasant to remember.
I recall—though not in exact detail—that when I was nine years of age my mother sent me with a glass bottle to a nearby store for some milk. She cautioned me, along with other instructions, “Please do not run, because it is dangerous while carrying a glass bottle in your hands.”
Now, what do you suppose I did? I did exactly what my mother told me not to do. I ran, and when I was almost home I stumbled. As I fell my hand landed on the bulk of the broken bottle, leaving a large gash. As a result, today I have a scar on my right hand, and each time I see it or touch it, it reminds me of the experience of a disobedient child.

Shortly after joining the church, our family immigrated to the United States. We first settled in Washington D.C. We belonged to a ward whose members were primarily married professional couples or retirees. There were not many young men or young women in the ward. My siblings and I felt totally out of place. We simply did not fit in. Adapting to a new country with a language handicap and cultural differences made it extremely difficult to put church attendance on the top of my priority list. I had a paper route that required me to get up at 3 am in the morning to deliver the Sunday newspaper to 200 homes. Excuses for not attending church on Sunday piled up very quickly, yet our home teacher and his wife would come to our home to pick us up for church every Sunday. I recall more times than I can count on two hands that I didn’t even wake up to answer the door bell on some Sundays. My behavior never deterred him. He was a dedicated Melchizedek Priesthood holder who understood his priesthood responsibilities. He faithfully served and magnified his calling as directed by his Quorum president. He shepherded his semi-lost sheep without any hesitation or murmurs. I do not remember his name but I have never forgotten the images of him and his wife’s smiling faces when they came to our home on Sunday mornings. They understood the true meaning of our Savior’s instruction to Peter, that is, “Feed my sheep.”

David Whitmer. After leaving the church David Whitmer settled in Missouri and became a well-respected citizen of the town of Richmond. David is the witness whose testimony has been recorded the most because he lived so long. He died in 1888 at the age of 83. He was interviewed hundreds of times by many important editors and newspaper reporters of his time. And by members of the church who wanted to hear the words of the last surviving witness to the heavenly manifestation. He never in all these interviews deviated in the least from his written testimony. Towards the end of his life he alluded to the fact that thousands of people had sought his comments, as many as 15 to 20 a day. This posed no small problem to David who had the practical responsibilities of the farm and his livery business. One incident is telling of the responsibility that he felt.

An LDS missionary, Elder Moon wanted to have David talk to one of his contacts who had read the Book of Mormon.

They arrived at the Whitmer farm unannounced at dinnertime, after dark, and after an especially trying day in which David was caring for sick family members. David after a while tried to avoid the Elder by going to the livery stable to perform a necessary errand. The Elder persisted by following him and explaining that he had with him what we would call today a golden contact that wanted to hear David’s testimony. David Whitmer’s sense of duty about his testimony overcame his personal irritability. He turned to Elder Moon’s contact and stated.

“Well God Almighty requires at my hand to bear testimony of the Book of Mormon. It is the pure gospel of Jesus Christ, translated from the plates by the gift and power of God by Joseph Smith. I know I tell the truth.”...

I know I tell the truth.

Kenny slouched on the sofa with his head down. He was folding and refolding a paper in his hands. When the door opened, he didn’t look up. He knew it was his mother. She had just finished burying his fish, Mike.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked as she hung up her coat.
“Nothing—just making a paper airplane.”
Mom went over to Kenny. She ran her fingers through his soft brown hair. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?” she asked.
How can Mom understand how I feel? Kenny thought. Mike was just a plain old fish that his friend Mike had given him when he had moved. That’s why Kenny had named the fish Mike.
Mom patted Kenny’s head and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll have dinner ready in a minute,” she said.
Kenny watched his mother with his eyes half raised, not caring what she fixed for dinner. He felt sick and laid his head on the arm of the sofa and closed his eyes.
“Ready for dinner?” Mom called later. “We’re having tacos.”
“I’m not hungry,” Kenny answered, keeping his eyes closed. He opened his eyes when he felt his mother sit down beside him.
“I miss Mike, too,” Mom said softly. “I enjoyed watching him swim through his bridge and hide in the shell.”
“He was a good fish,” said Kenny as he sat up. “He helped me remember Mike and all the fun we had. Why did he have to die, Mom?”
She paused for a moment, looking perplexed. “I don’t know, Kenny,” she finally answered. “All living things have to die. Maybe it was Mike’s time to die.”
“Will I die?” Kenny asked, looking up at his mother.
“Yes, Kenny,” she said, “someday you’ll die too. But only our bodies die. Our spirits live forever. Do you remember what we talked about in family home evening just after Grandma died?”
“Yeah, Dad told us that Jesus died and His body was buried. But Mary went to the place where He was buried and saw Him. He wasn’t dead any more!”
“That’s right, Kenny. And because of Him, we will all live again. If we’re good, we’ll go back to Heavenly Father, and we’ll be happy.”
“Is Mike happy?” asked Kenny.
“Yes, Kenny, I think he is,” said Mom. “Heavenly Father created Mike too. I’m sure there’s a place prepared just for him.”
“Will I see Mike again?” Kenny asked, sitting up straight. His eyes shone with excitement. “Just like you said I would see Grandma again someday?”
Mom took hold of Kenny’s hands and said, “Kenny, I can’t answer that. But Heavenly Father knows how much you love Mike. Everything will turn out for your good.”
“Do you promise?” asked Kenny.
“Even better than that, Son,” Mom replied, “Jesus promises.”
Kenny thought for a minute. He picked up his airplane and turned it slowly in his hands. “You know, Mom,” Kenny said, looking up with a smile, “I think Mike would want to know about his namesake. Will you help me write him a letter? But let’s eat first. I’m hungry!”

Some years ago when one of my daughters was a small, exuberant child we were all sitting around the fireplace as families do at the happy Christmas season. It had been a good, satisfying, full holiday, and the stress of the hustle and the bustle of the day was behind us, leaving the warm after-glow of this happy day. Fathers, mothers, cousins, aunts, and uncles all chatted quietly by the fire, and into this large group of people who loved each other bounded my child with the exclamation, “Look who’s here, everybody!”

Our curiosity was piqued by this enthusiastic announcement. We looked beyond her with interest and inquired, “Who is it?”

And she returned our questioning glances with sparkling eyes and a face wreathed in smiles and announced, “Me!”

It was not what we had expected, somehow, but I shall never forget that moment. This little bit of a girl taught her older kinfolk an important lesson. In a sense she was saying what the central figure represents: “There is no one more important than the individual.” The individual human being is the most important entity on the face of the earth.

A few summers ago our family visited Catalina Island just off the coast near Los Angeles. While there we visited the excellent aviary, which has the most interesting collection of birds I have ever seen. But even though the birds were fascinating, the most important part of the visit for me was the acquaintance I made with a man whom I shall never forget. He told me something that still lingers vividly in my memory, even though this must have been ten years ago.

He worked at the aviary. I first noticed him as he was feeding the birds in the cages. He seemed to know each bird individually, calling them by name and chatting with them as though they were children gathered around him. It was easily apparent that he loved every bird in the place, and the birds seemed to feel the same way about him. After he had finished his feeding chores, I felt compelled to talk to him for a moment.

“It was interesting to watch you feed the birds,” I said. “It’s easy to see that you enjoy your work here.”

“Yes sir, I enjoy it here more than I can tell you. In fact, I can’t think of a single person I would trade places with—none of the movie stars, none of the bankers or lawyers, none of the merchants, none of the presidents, premiers, or kings. I like it right here, and I like what I’m doing.” We chatted a few minutes longer. Then he said, “You know, mister, there is one important thing I’ve discovered in life—at least as far as I personally am concerned. It’s this: If you like what you do, and if you’re doing something that is really worthwhile, and if you do the best job you can do, then, brother, you’ve got it made!”

At one time no one could swim the English Channel. Then Captain Webb did it; and then in 1926 an automobile company offered a red Buick convertible and $2,500 cash to the first woman who would swim the English Channel. There was a 19-year-old American girl by the name of Gertrude Ederle who wanted an automobile. She could think of many things she could do if she had this red Buick convertible and $2,500 cash.
Gertrude Ederle wanted an automobile, so she decided to swim the English Channel. But partway across the Channel she gave out. She couldn’t go another stroke. But as she lay there in the water, this red Buick convertible passed in front of her imagination. This gave her a great new surge of power and enabled her to go on and become the first woman ever to swim the English Channel.

Now, to a different but related matter.
Last April in our priesthood meeting, I announced a new program. I spoke of the large numbers of our missionaries from South America, Mexico, the Philippines, and other areas. They respond to calls and serve with their North American brothers and sisters. They develop strong testimonies. They learn a new way of life. They are highly effective because they speak their native tongues and know the cultures of their native lands. They enjoy a wonderful season of hard and dedicated work.
Then they are released to go back home. Their families are living in poverty, and many of them fall back into the same situation from which they came, unable to move because of a lack of skills and the consequent difficulty in finding good employment.
I spoke to you of the Perpetual Emigration Fund, which was established in the pioneer era of the Church to assist the poor in coming from England and Europe. A revolving fund was established from which small loans were made, which made it possible for 30,000 to emigrate from their native lands and gather in Zion.
I told you we would apply the same principle and create what would be known as the Perpetual Education Fund. Out of the funds which would be donated by our people, and not from tithing funds, we would create a corpus, the earnings from which would be used to assist our young brethren and sisters in attending school to qualify themselves for better employment. They would develop skills whereby they could earn sufficient to take good care of their families and rise above the poverty level that they and their prior generations had known.
We had nothing in the fund at the time it was planned. But moving forward in faith, we established an organization, modest in its dimensions, to implement that which we felt was necessary. I am pleased to report that the money has come in, tens of thousands of dollars, hundreds of thousands of dollars, even millions. This has come from generous members of the Church who love the Lord and wish to assist the less fortunate of His people in rising in the economic world. We now have a substantial sum. It is not all that we need. We hope that these contributions will continue. The size of the corpus will determine the number who can be helped.
Now, six months later, I wish to give you a report of what has been accomplished. First, we called Elder John K. Carmack, who served so well in the First Quorum of the Seventy and who became an emeritus Seventy with this conference. He is an accomplished attorney, a man of sound judgment in business, a man of great ability. He has been appointed managing director, and though he is retired from the work of the Seventy, he will give his full time to the prosecution of this endeavor.
Elder Richard E. Cook of the Seventy, who likewise has become emeritus, will join him in looking after the finances. Elder Cook was formerly assistant controller of the Ford Motor Company, a man experienced in worldwide finance, a most capable executive, and a man who loves the Lord and the Lord’s children.
We have worn out these brethren on one side, and now have turned them over to wear them out on the other side.
They have associated with them Brother Rex Allen, an expert in organization and training, and Brother Chad Evans, who has vast experience in programs of advanced education.
All contribute their time and expertise without compensation.
The program is up and running. These brethren have been very careful to get it off to a proper start with sound governing principles. We have restricted the area in which it will operate initially, but this area will be expanded as we have the means to do so.
These brethren have gone to work to utilize the existing organization of the Church. The program is priesthood based, and that is why it will succeed. It begins with the bishops and the stake presidents. It involves the Church Educational System, the Employment Services offices, and others who work together in a marvelous spirit of cooperation. It was first implemented in Peru, Chile, and Mexico—areas where the number of returned missionaries is large and the need is great. The local leaders have been enthusiastic and committed. The beneficiaries are learning true principles of self-reliance. Their vision of their potential is greatly broadened. They are selecting good local schools for training and are using, to the extent possible, their personal, family, and other local resources. They are appreciative and willing and deeply grateful for the opportunity afforded them. Let me give you two or three vignettes.
The first is that of a young man who served in the Bolivia Cochabamba Mission. He lives with his faithful mother and nieces in a poor neighborhood. Their little home has a concrete floor, one lightbulb, the roof leaks, and the window is broken. He was a successful missionary. He says:
“My mission was the best thing that I have been able to do in my life. I learned to be obedient to the commandments and to be patient in my afflictions. I also learned some English and to manage my money, my time, and my skills better.
“Then, when I finished my mission, going home was difficult. My American companions went back to a university. But there is a lot of poverty in our country. It is very difficult to get an education. My mother does her best, but she can’t help us. She has suffered so much, and I am her hope.
“When I learned of the Perpetual Education Fund, I felt so happy. The prophet recognized our efforts. I was filled with joy. … There was a possibility I could study, become self-reliant, have a family, help my mother.
“I will study accounting at a local school where I can study and work. It is a short course, just three years long. I have to keep working as a janitor, but that is OK. Once I graduate and get a job in accounting, I will work toward higher education in international business.
“This is our opportunity, and we cannot fail. The Lord trusts us. I have read many times in the Book of Mormon the words the Lord told the prophets, that as we keep the commandments, we would prosper in the land. This is being fulfilled. I am so grateful to God for this great opportunity to receive what my brothers and sisters did not have, to help my family, to accomplish my goals. And I am excited to repay the loan to see others be so blessed. I know the Lord will bless me as I do it.”
Now, isn’t that wonderful? Now another. A young man in Mexico City was approved to receive a loan of approximately $1,000 to make it possible for him to attend school to become a diesel mechanic. He has said: “My promise is to give my best in order to feel satisfied with my efforts. I know this program is valuable and important. Because of this, I am trying to take maximum advantage of this for the future. I will be able to serve and help the poor and help counsel my family members. I thank my Father in Heaven for this beautiful and inspired program.”
A loan was recently approved for another young man from Mexico City, who served in the Nevada Las Vegas Mission. He desires to become a dental technician. His training will require 15 months of dedicated work. He says, “My promise upon finishing my studies at the technical school with the help of the Perpetual Education Fund is to repay the loan so that other returned missionaries can enjoy these blessings.”

I live with a chronic, debilitating disease. Because of my disease, even opening my eyes can feel excruciating at times. But every morning I get to wake up to two big blue eyes, a head full of red hair, and a big pacifier smile—my beautiful three-year-old daughter. Opening my eyes to this sight every morning reminds me that even though my body is broken, I am blessed in so many ways.
My life may not be the picture I had painted in my mind, but I know that my circumstances in life are known to our loving Heavenly Father. I have found, in this trial of illness, that choice—when used righteously—is such a blessing. You may not deal with a debilitating illness like I do, but you might be facing other heart-wrenching and difficult trials in your own life. Regardless of the trials we all face, we still get to choose every day if we will turn to God or not.
In some ways, coping with the mental aspect of chronic illness can be harder than managing the physical aspect. But when I take a moment to pause and look at my life as a whole, I see the miracles the Lord daily performs for me and my family. And it’s often little things like somehow summoning up the strength to jump on the trampoline with my little girl. Those moments are the incredible gifts Heavenly Father gives me every day to show me how much He loves me and is aware of me.
Through these sweet miracles and tender mercies, I’ve learned to truly trust God with my life. When I turn it over to Him, He gives me the perspective I need in order to keep going. I have come to understand that my disease isn’t my life. My disease is part of my life. And though it is a big part of me and something that is always there, I am so much more than my illness. I am a mom, wife, sister, aunt, and daughter. In fact, I am a beloved daughter of God, and He knows me personally and loves me more deeply than I can comprehend. And that knowledge, in and of itself, is miraculous.
I know God didn’t give me this illness to punish me; He has allowed me to be sick as an opportunity to grow spiritually even as my physical body deteriorates.
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are the only way to true and lasting happiness. Yes, I have a chronic illness, and I know I will endure more challenges throughout this life. But through these challenges, I have been able to see more of the blessings and goodness that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ offer us every day. I know They will be by my side every step of the way if I continue to choose to turn to Them each day.

May I give you an example of a Korean brother who heard the Savior’s voice? Brother Choi had left his wife, two children, and his mother for nine months. One day our missionaries were tracting in the city of Kwang Ju, Korea. They found his family. The family began to study with the missionaries and were baptized shortly.

The missionaries started the family home evening program with this family.

One day the seven-year-old daughter purchased a Book of Mormon from a missionary and sent it with her simple, yet beautiful testimony to her daddy. Two missionaries took that book to her father and bore their strong, firm testimonies of the truthfulness of the gospel and the importance of the family. Her father wondered why these people were so concerned and kind to him and his family. When evening came, he began to read, and heard a familiar voice of the Lord. He was so inspired and found it to be true. And also he found the testimony written by his daughter. I would like to share it with you, brothers and sisters. She said:

“Aboji, Aboji, Aboji (which interpreted is “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy”), I want to have family home evening with you! Please come back! We love you! I love you! I need you! I want you to read this book! Heavenly Father loves you!”

Brother Choi was so inspired and magnified by reading the Book of Mormon and touched by it and touched by his daughter’s testimony that he asked the missionaries to baptize him. Therefore this family was reunited, and Brother Choi is now the bishop of the Kwang Ju Third Ward. He sits in this hall today, a living example of one who heard the Savior’s voice from the Book of Mormon.