Gospel Story Finder

A short time ago I stood in a family circle while the husband of one of our granddaughters blessed their new little son, Mark. As he blessed little Mark, he prayed that Mark would someday go on a mission and, when he returned, find a sweet, young companion and be sealed in the temple. As he pronounced these blessings upon little Mark, I had the desire that he might know what I know and feel what I feel about some of the spiritual blessings that have entered into my life. I desired that his life would also be filled with spiritual experiences similar to one I had 26 years ago today when I was called to be an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. On that same day, Elder Boyd K. Packer was called to the Quorum of the Twelve.
I remember the details well. I was called to the First Presidency’s office to meet with President Joseph Fielding Smith. His name would be presented the next day for sustaining as the new President and prophet of the Church, just as we have done today with President Hinckley. Harold B. Lee was to be sustained as the First Counselor and N. Eldon Tanner as the Second Counselor. They spent a few moments with me, extending the call, and then reminded me that the next morning my name would be read in the conference.
After that call was extended to me, I walked down the granite steps of the Administration Building. I felt amazement and wonder. How could this happen? How could this come to me? As I walked around the block, I thought and wondered about the changes that would come into my life now. How would I ever measure up to the responsibility that would now rest upon me? How could I go out and represent this great and glorious organization out in the world?
I was so overcome with my feelings as I walked around the block that I didn’t want to meet anyone I knew. I just wanted to find my wife, Ruby, and tell her what had happened. I went up to the ninth floor of the Hotel Utah, where Ruby was visiting with some family. I remember knocking on the door and opening it just a couple of inches so I could motion for her to come out. Of course, she wondered what was happening and came out into the hall.
I took her by the hand, and as we walked along the hallway, all I could do was squeeze her hand. I was so overcome with what had happened that I had trouble even getting the words out to tell her about it. Finally she stopped me and said, “Well, say something.” Then I looked at her, put my hands on her shoulders, and told her what had happened. She started to cry. The two of us stood there with our arms around one another and people walking by wondering who those silly boobs were crying in the hallway. But we didn’t pay any attention to the traffic because something momentous was happening to us. Our lives had been changed.
On the next day, a day like this, my name was read to be sustained and I was asked to come up and take one of these red chairs. I did so in all amazement. And then the Tabernacle Choir sang “O Divine Redeemer.” I thought my heart would break in the pleading of those words: “Remember not, remember not, O Lord, my sins.”
I would hope someday that our great-grandson Mark and others of our posterity would have similar spiritual experiences and that they would feel the spiritual power and influence of this gospel. I hope that Mark and others will have opportunities such as I had when I was in the temple when President Spencer W. Kimball received the revelation regarding the priesthood. I was the junior member of the Quorum of the Twelve. I was there. I was there with the outpouring of the Spirit in that room so strong that none of us could speak afterwards. We just left quietly to go back to the office. No one could say anything because of the powerful outpouring of the heavenly spiritual experience.
But just a few hours after the announcement was made to the press, I was assigned to attend a stake conference in Detroit, Michigan. When my plane landed in Chicago, I noticed an edition of the Chicago Tribune on the newsstand. The headline in the paper said, “Mormons Give Blacks Priesthood.” And the subheading said, “President Kimball Claims to Have Received a Revelation.” I bought a copy of the newspaper. I stared at one word in that subheading—claims. It stood out to me just like it was in red neon. As I walked along the hallway to make my plane connection, I thought, Here I am now in Chicago walking through this busy airport, yet I was a witness to this revelation. I was there. I witnessed it. I felt that heavenly influence. I was part of it. Little did the editor of that newspaper realize the truth of that revelation when he wrote, “… Claims to Have Received a Revelation.” Little did he know, or the printer, or the man who put the ink on the press, or the one who delivered the newspaper—little did any of them know that it was truly a revelation from God. Little did they know what I knew because I was a witness to it.
God lives. He is our Father. We are His children. He loves us. Jesus is the Christ, the Only Begotten of the Father in the flesh. He is our Savior, our Redeemer. He is our advocate with the Father. He is the one who died and suffered great agony, great humiliation, and great pain for us. The Restoration of the gospel is true. Someday we’ll know of the greatness of the Prophet Joseph Smith. All this work is true. I leave you my love and my witness, and I pray that you will live and raise your own families in such a way that you will be part of the great army needed to carry the message of hope and salvation to all the world. I leave my love and witness with you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A true story from Zimbabwe.
“Momma, wake up,” whispered Kupa.
“The sun isn’t up yet.” Momma yawned. “Can’t you sleep just a little longer?”
“I’m too excited,” said Kupa. “It’s Sunday, and we can go to church!”
“OK. You win,” said Momma. “But I’ll need your help to get your sisters ready.”
Kupa liked to help Momma. She started by boiling cornmeal to make sadza for her little sisters, Agnes and Sheila. After they ate, Kupa helped clean up.
Kupa put on her favorite dress and chose clothes for her sisters. The room was filled with giggles as she helped them get dressed. She was so excited!
“You are a good helper, Kupa,” said Momma.
“Thanks!” said Kupa.
As they started out the door, Momma tied Sheila onto her back with a cloth wrap. “I am so glad you two are big enough to walk,” she said to Kupa and Agnes.
Momma took Kupa’s hand, and they started to walk down the dirt road. Far away, Kupa could see the temple that was being built in Harare. “I love seeing the temple,” said Kupa.
“Me too,” said Momma. “We are blessed to live where we can see it being built.”
They took a shortcut through the fields of corn. Sometimes, they stopped to rest and let Sheila wiggle and stretch. They talked, sang songs, and listened to the birds. After walking for an hour and a half, Kupa was so happy to see the church.
Kupa read the sign: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“We made it,” said Momma. She untied the wrap around Sheila.
“And we are early again!” said Kupa excitedly.
Soon Kupa and Momma were cheerfully greeting the others entering the building. Kupa liked being with the people at church. She felt loved there.
Kupa and her family found a place to sit. Resting her legs felt good. When she took the sacrament, she thought about Jesus Christ. Then she listened carefully as the bishop explained it was fast Sunday and invited people to share their testimonies.
Kupa watched and listened as others came to the front of the chapel to share what they believed. She wanted them all to know she had a testimony too. Kupa walked to the front of the room. She felt a little nervous, but she knew what she wanted to say.
She breathed deeply, stood tall, and said, “I love to see the temple. I know it is a special place to learn about Heavenly Father’s plan. Our life is a special gift from Him. I know the scriptures are true. I know Heavenly Father and Jesus love me. I am trying to be kind and helpful like Jesus. I know the Church is true. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Kupa looked at the people in the room. They were smiling at her. Kupa smiled big and walked back to her seat. Momma hugged her when she sat down. Kupa was glad that she had the courage to share her testimony. Kupa loved Sundays.
Illustrations by Fotini Tikkou

Another time, Kim and Christy’s 13-year-old cousin and her parents dropped in unannounced from Los Angeles.

“They invited us out to dinner and we talked about the Church,” Christy said. “Our cousin seemed really interested, and her parents said it was okay for her to listen to the missionaries.”

Kim told about a home evening during which the missionaries taught about Christ, baptism, and temple work. “She was excited about her family being sealed together,” Kim said.

Now the cousin is being baptized. “And she’s working on her parents too,” Christy said.

“It doesn’t just have to be adults who are responsible for getting their families sealed,” Kim said. “Share the gospel with children and teenagers, and their parents may get interested too.”

It was a bright, sunny Monday morning, with a breeze a little stronger than usual for August. The weather forecast for the Florida Keys was just right for sailing—moderate winds from the northeast, clear skies to scattered cloudiness, with widely scattered rain squalls. Along the Miami River a few elegant sailboats were already getting underway.
At the Out Island pier, 17 Explorers and leaders from Post 9796 were busy stowing supplies and personal gear below deck on two sleek, 41-foot sailboats the Maupiti and the Shepahoy. This was the beginning of an activity they had been preparing for ten months, the culmination of extensive planning.
At post meetings they had learned about sails and nautical charts, dead reckoning, safety, and the “rules of the road.” Now they were finally dockside, actually loading their snorkels and scuba tanks on board. The food they would eat all week was going into the galleys. Everything was nearly ready.
Excerpts from the logs kept on both vessels succinctly record the excitement of the group’s adventure at sea:
Monday, 10:55 A.M.—Shepahoy cast off. Motored down the Miami River to Biscayne Bay. Will pick up fishing gear and rendezvous with Maupiti at MacArthur Causeway.
Noon—Delayed by final engine repairs. Underway with Brother Bowman as first helmsman. Eight drawbridges had to raise for us as we went downriver. Three blasts with the horn is the signal to raise a bridge.
12:50 A.M.—Shepahoy and Maupiti left Miami River under sail in a brisk wind, making six to eight knots. Note: A rope is not called a rope. It is a line except when it’s a sheet, a lanyard, or a halyard. But it’s never called a rope.
2:30 P.M.—Finally learning how to walk on sloping, pitching decks. Slippery decks can be bad for your health! Note: If you are told to “fall off,” it means to steer further away from the wind, not to jump overboard.
3:15 P.M.—While underway, Richard Holt caught a barracuda. Now everyone wants to fish.
4:10 P.M.—Broke the topping lift. Repaired it. Glad the skipper was giving orders when it broke instead of one of us landlubbers!
6:55 P.M.—Anchored off Elliott Key. Rafted vessels together. Everyone went swimming, then ate dinner.
8:10 P.M.—Boats separated and anchored apart for the night. Mosquitoes pretty bad until wind came up. Must anchor further off shore in the future.
Tuesday the group headed for Angelfish Creek, the passage through the Keys into the Atlantic.
9:15 A.M.—David Spellman sighted the first shark. The water is amazingly clear. It looks like you are about to go aground even when the Fathometer reads 11 to 13 feet.
1:30 P.M.—Dropped anchor just off Carysfort Reef lighthouse in 25 feet of water. The four qualified scuba divers made their first dive, while the others went snorkeling. The reef is amazing, visibility magnificent. Color and variety of fish are fantastic. We sighted barracuda, huge angelfish, groupers, grunts, and lobster, as well as brain coral, antler coral, and fan coral. Derek Doty saw a shark. Too bad no one has an underwater camera!
The boats anchored off Grecian Rocks for the night, where high waves on a rough sea made them pitch heavily. Showers hit just after 2:00 A.M., sending those sleeping on deck scurrying below. By daylight the sea was even rougher. Several of those assigned galley duty couldn’t fulfill the assignment—on the Shepahoy Brett Summers was the only Explorer who could do the cooking, but there wasn’t much demand for food. On the Maupiti Don Wise and his father looked strangely healthy while the others were turning a little green. Only a few hearty souls didn’t show specific signs of “epigastric awareness,” and there was a feeling that those who didn’t join the general misery weren’t expressing proper brotherhood. One fellow felt so ill he asked for a priesthood blessing, and he seemed relieved after receiving it.
Nevertheless, by 9:00 A.M. both vessels were moving out. Maupiti headed for Rodriguez Key and more snorkeling, while Shepahoy’s crew decided to stop at the underwater statue of the Savior. The figure and base stand about 30 feet tall in a grotto of coral heads, the highest point about ten feet under water. An enormous barracuda seemed to be guarding the site and kept anyone from getting too near to the impressive memorial.
The two vessels rendezvoused again and headed together to Key Largo to fill the ships’ tanks with water and the scuba divers’ tanks with air. Solid ground felt good after the rough seas. Key Largo’s supply of seasickness pills and snack food was perceptibly reduced during the Explorers’ visit.
Back at sea, on the way to Mosquitoe Bank, Miguel, the young professional Scouter who had accompanied the LDS group as an adviser, caught ten lobsters. Lee Burdge, with great delight, caught one of his own, and we had the makings of a feast.
Capturing a lobster by hand requires considerable talent, because they have quick reactions. The lobster hides in crevices at the bottom of reefs, and the hunter, without being seen, has to tickle its tail with a long wire. This causes the lobster to dart from its hole, and the hunter then tries to catch it in his gloved hand, avoiding the sharp and pinching claws.
Wednesday evening rain fell again, postponing the scheduled talent night. Thursday morning the divers found no lobsters, but did spot a large moray eel in the reef and stayed clear of it. Shawn Pergande shot two fish with an air gun, and a six-foot barracuda followed Ray Holt, Wayne Bucklew, and Shawn for about 30 minutes. At 10:45 anchors came up and the two boats headed for Rodriguez Key, in the first of two races held during the trip.
The Maupiti started off slightly behind. Both vessels were beating hard against the wind. The entire crew of the Shepahoy hiked, trying to get the mast straighter and higher. The race had no formal finish because the Shepahoy ripped her genoa and dropped out for repairs. But let it be officially noted that the Maupiti was at least three lengths ahead when the sail tore.
The Maupiti was at anchor when the Shepahoy arrived. As they came alongside, cannoneers suddenly burst from the cabin with buckets and tubs of water balloons. The Maupiti was hit with a full salvo, but its crew had heard rumors of a possible sneak attack and returned the fire. One of the great naval battles of all time ensued—not one that would topple empires, but certainly no more colorful or spirited engagement ever took place. Brother Holt, awakened by the sound of combat, sleepily poked his head out of the cabin and immediately received three direct hits. As ammunition ran low, Doug Lind and Lee Burdge dove into the water to retrieve unburst balloons and came under heavy fire. Boarders from the Shepahoy were repulsed after almost scaling the Maupiti’s anchor chain. The battle lasted 30 minutes, and final victory was inconclusive and much debated for the rest of the trip.
That night, following a delicious feast earned by great heroics, the postponed talent night was finally held. Richard Holt and his father started with a skit, the bishop recited a poem, Donald Harper-Smith and his dad presented another skit, and eventually everyone shared some form of talent before another rain squall, just after the closing prayer, called a halt to the evening.
Friday, 6:10 A.M.—Awoke. Breakfast. Set sail for the statue. Anchored. Divers in the water. Discovered we are at the wrong reef, Cannon Reef. Recovered divers and set sail. Arrived at the statue. Waves too rough for diving. Difficult to handle tanks and flippers on pitching deck. Skipper canceled dive for safety reasons. Set sail for Angelfish Creek and Miami.
10:20 A.M.—We entered the Gulf Stream. The water is deep blue. We expected a lot of fish here. Didn’t find many. Ray caught a barracuda and Richard caught an amberjack. Wayne snagged a lobster trap!
As the two vessels cleared the Angelfish Creek channel, a second race began. Across Biscayne Bay the two beautiful boats darted, beating to windward. The breeze was brisk, the weather exhilarating. Rounds of shouting added to the excitement. The boats were well matched, the crews intensely competitive. Fairness requires, though, that the Shepahoy should be credited with a clear-cut victory.
Anchorage that night was across the bay from Miami. The skyline reflected beautifully in the water. Lobsters tasted better for having been caught by hand. With boats moored together, the combined crews held a testimony meeting, expressing their brotherly love and gratitude. The setting was spectacular and the spirit impressive. Almost everyone had expressed himself when Miguel, who had been quietly listening, asked if he could participate.
“Of course,” he was assured. He said that he felt a wonderful spirit, that he hadn’t felt anything like it since he had been active in his own Catholic Scout troop. He said he had been on cruises with many Explorer posts, but he wanted us to know he felt something special about our group. Everyone was deeply moved.
That night, as the boats rocked gently, everyone slept soundly. In the morning, we would sail up-river to the docks, and our days at sea, for the time being at least, would be over. But we knew it wouldn’t take much prodding to get us to come back again.

I marvel at the miracle of the birth of a child. Just recently we experienced it again in our family. You receive a phone call, and there is the anxious voice of your son-in-law on the other end, stating, “I am just on my way to the hospital with Linda Gay.” Then you sit anxiously all day waiting for further news. Finally it comes: It’s a boy! Then you drop everything and rush to the hospital to offer your congratulations. There you see this blessed miracle—your own child, now with a baby cradled in her arms with warmth and tender love. You see a son-in-law so excited, and he starts pointing out that the baby’s nose looks like his mother’s. Maybe the chin and mouth resemble his. Then he looks at the hands and says, “Surely, these must be from the Perry side of the family. Look how large they are!”

A deep love wells up within you as you witness this blessed event and realize the joy and happiness these new parents will now have as the process is repeated again in their lives.

One cold, rainy October day, Mette Hansen, a young mother in Copenhagen, Denmark, was riding her bicycle home from work when a car hit her. Her husband was out of the country on an assignment, and for five hours she lay in a hospital, unable to contact her two small children, who were at a day-care center. She pleaded with the Lord to let her children know she was all right and to give them peace and protection.
After Sister Hansen was treated, she arrived home at 10:15 P.M. to find that her tired children had walked home when she hadn’t picked them up. Because they didn’t have a key to get into the apartment, they had knelt on the doormat and said a prayer, then sat without talking for a little while.
“And then a nice thing happened to me,” her son said. “I felt a big, warm hand touching the top of my head, and I heard a friendly voice saying, ‘Your mother is well. … It will be a while before she comes home, and it will be dark outside, but just stay calm.’”
Over the years since that occurrence, Sister Hansen and her family have known that their Heavenly Father is only a prayer away. (See Tambuli, February 1988, page 12.)

On an afternoon a few months ago, Susan and I inventoried our food storage and emergency supplies. At the time, COVID-19 was spreading rapidly, and a series of earthquakes had jolted our home in Utah. We have worked since the earliest days of our marriage to follow prophetic counsel about preparing for unforeseen challenges, so “examining” our state of readiness in the midst of the virus and earthquakes seemed like a good and timely thing to do. We wanted to find out our grades on these unannounced tests.
We learned a great deal. In many areas, our preparatory work was just right. In some other areas, however, improvement was necessary because we had not recognized and addressed particular needs in timely ways.
We also laughed a lot. We discovered, for example, items in a remote closet that had been in our food storage for decades. Frankly, we were afraid to open and inspect some of the containers for fear of unleashing another global pandemic! But you should be happy to know that we properly disposed of the hazardous materials and that health risk to the world was eliminated.

Recently my dad asked me to play the piano in priesthood meeting. Reluctantly, I said yes. I had a hymn memorized, so I thought I could play without any serious problems. When I began to play, I realized I couldn’t remember the song. I tried to play the introduction at least four times, but it wouldn’t come. I kept thinking, I can play this at home with my eyes closed. Why can’t I play it now? I decided to skip the introduction and go to the beginning of the hymn. With shaking hands I played the first verse without any problems before I got lost. The priesthood brethren ended up singing the rest of the song a capella. I felt so bad, as I hurried to my seat and buried my head during the prayer. The next day I picked up the July 1993 New Era and read the story “Hymn and Me.” The whole time I was reading the story, I could relate to how she felt. I want to thank you for this article. It really helped me feel better about what happened.
Scott OlsenHighland, Utah

Can you grasp the meaning of the tremendous work of this Church? Let me paint you a scenario. A pair of missionaries knock on the door of a little home somewhere in Peru. A woman answers. She does not quite understand what the missionaries want. But she invites them in. They arrange to come when her husband and other members of the family are there.
The missionaries teach them. Touched by the power of the Spirit, they respond to the message of eternal truth. They are baptized.
The family is active in the Church. They pay an honest but very meager tithing. They have a son or daughter in that family who is in his or her late teens. At the right time, the son or the daughter is called to serve a mission. The family does all it can to support him or her, and the remainder is made up from the missionary fund, which comes of the contributions of the Saints.
The son or daughter works with a companion from the United States or Canada. He or she learns English, while the companion’s Spanish is greatly improved. They work together with love and appreciation and respect, one for another, representatives of two great divergent cultures.
Upon completion of their missions, the North American returns home and goes back to school. The Peruvian returns home and is hopeful only of finding work of a menial nature. The pay is ever so small. The future is dismal. He or she does not have the needed skills to rise above such employment. And then comes this bright ray of hope. Well, brethren, you know the picture. I need not labor it further. The way before us is clear, the need is tremendous, and the Lord has pointed the way.

I have just read Tom Osmond’s article in the April New Era, and I know from experience that every word is true! I have suffered from epilepsy since I was five years old. I had no confidence and was afraid to go anywhere on my own. My mother always had to go with me. I would not talk to anybody, and I thought everybody was laughing at me and talking about me—that is until I was baptized into the Church two years ago last May. Since that day I have gained confidence, and I am able to go out on my own. My epilepsy is milder too, and if everything goes well, it will be cleared up by summer. This is because of the love and faith I have found in Jesus Christ. My prayers have been answered, and I have a lot to thank the Lord for. I have learned that you can live a full life regardless of any disability, just as Tom Osmond said.
Carol SimsDerby, Derbyshire, England

You want to be happy in marriage? You seek to make your companion happy. You seek to make her or him happy. Whatever can bring them joy, you seek to do that. Shucks! My wife loves to go on walks and I went on a walk last night with her. You know what happens when I go on a walk? My back hurts! But I don't care! Because I know deep down in, she holds my hand and we go look at the ocean and think how beautiful it is. Then we walk home and I know she loves it, and so I love it because she loves it. You will know that people care about you when you care about they care about. Pretty good one! You think about it. When you care about what they care about they know that you care about them.

All the boys and girls on our street went to Primary except me. Dad was a Latter-day Saint but not active. And Mother was very active in her own church.
I was about five when I first began to feel left out of things. My friends asked me to go to Primary with them, and I kept asking Mom if I could go but she would always say no.
One day after I had coaxed her for awhile, she finally said yes. And after that I went to Primary every week. When I would come home excited about what we had done and what we had learned, I noticed that Mom seemed to like to hear what I could tell her about Primary.

As I was growing up, my mother insisted that I read regularly. She would take me down to the public library and check out about a one-foot length of books from the shelves. She typically chose biographies of great men and women. Sometimes it was painful to stay inside and read when I would rather be doing other things. But then each day I would see my mother reading, and I noted that she finished a book almost every day. That habit has stayed with her throughout her life and has blessed not only her children but her grandchildren, extended family, former students, and friends.

Today at the age of 87, my mother has grown blind, but she still “reads” constantly. She now reads by listening to audiotapes of books. Just a few days ago I asked her what books she had read recently. The list she gave me was impressive. She told me that she was rereading several of the classics, including The Iliad, The Odyssey, Dante’s Divine Comedy, Moby Dick, Walden, etc., all intermingled with scripture and gospel study. She has made the quest for knowledge a lifelong pursuit.

My next year at Utah State I experienced another defining moment. I met a tall, handsome, returned missionary and we fell in love. He proposed and together we picked out a ring. With his entire savings he paid cash for the diamond.
On a clear Sunday evening in January we drove to the grounds of the Logan Temple where we intended to become formally engaged. The white gold diamond ring slipped from between the pages of Sections 131 and 132 and fell into the freshly fallen snow. We searched for hours beneath the moonlight, alternately weeping and praying. Finally, we huddled in one of the temple wall alcoves, and fervently prayed for the ring's recovery. We promised the Lord that we would consecrate our lives to him. We promised to attend the temple monthly, pay our tithing, and fulfill our callings. The hour was late and we sadly returned to our apartments.
The miracle was not that it didn't snow that night, nor that the next morning a friend plucked the diamond from the snow, just a foot away from where we had searched. The miracle was that the Lord gave us an transforming opportunity to identify the kind of lives we would live and solemnly promise to be obedient.

I had my eyes opened to “looking beyond what I could see” while serving as a mission president. A young elder arrived with apprehension in his eyes. As we met in an interview, he said dejectedly, “I want to go home.” I thought to myself, “Well, we can fix this.” I counseled him to work hard and to pray about it for a week and then call me. A week later, almost to the minute, he called. He still wanted to go home. I again counseled him to pray, to work hard, and to call me in a week. In our next interview, things had not changed. He insisted on going home.
I just wasn’t going to let that happen. I began teaching him about the sacred nature of his call. I encouraged him to “forget [himself] and go to work.” But no matter what formula I offered, his mind did not change. It finally occurred to me that I might not have the whole picture. It was then that I felt a prompting to ask him the question: “Elder, what is hard for you?” What he said pierced my heart: “President, I can’t read.”
The wise counsel which I thought was so important for him to hear was not at all relevant to his needs. What he needed most was for me to look beyond my hasty assessment and allow the Spirit to help me understand what was really on this elder’s mind. He needed me to see him correctly and offer a reason to hope. Instead, I acted like a giant demolition wrecking ball. This valiant elder did learn to read and became a very pure disciple of Jesus Christ. He opened my eyes to the Lord’s words: “For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).

When I started meeting with the missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they used a spectacular way to motivate me to read the Book of Mormon. Whenever I had a question, they opened it and read the answer from it. I wondered what kind of book it was. Finally they asked me if I wouldn’t like to read the book. I said, “Yes, I would!” They gave me a Book of Mormon as a gift, and I was extremely glad. I read it in three weeks and was very impressed with its teachings. At the end of that time, I was baptized into the Church. I have a great testimony about the influence of the scriptures in the life of a person.

In 1950, Betty met her husband, Bill, who had migrated from Belfast, Northern Ireland to also find work at the shipyard. They married a year later and had three boys and one girl, but sadly, a road accident would take their second eldest son, Donal, at the age of 21. Betty now has 11 grandchildren and 26 great grandchildren and says, “Every one of them is lovely.”
The passing of her son Donal and, more recently, her husband Bill have made Betty more grateful and aware of the blessing it is to know that God’s plan of happiness reunites families in the eternities.
She loves the gospel truth that families can be together forever. “It’s a great motivator to keep us on the straight and narrow path so that we can be reunited in the next life.”

At the end of 1988 I was enjoying my calling as second counselor in the bishopric in Ciudad Ojeda, Venezuela, but I had a pressing concern. I had been a member of the Church for over a year, but I had not yet received my temple blessings.
One day a friend from the nearby city of Maracaibo came to visit. Before long we had struck up a conversation about spiritual matters.
Suddenly my friend was prompted to say, “Brother Troconiz, I believe that Heavenly Father wants you to go to the temple and receive the eternal blessings He has promised His children.”
“I cannot go,” I replied. “There is no temple here in Venezuela, and a trip out of the country is very expensive. I don’t have the money.”
He thought this over for a moment and then said, “If you really want to go to the temple, Heavenly Father will provide a way for you to go.”
I replied, “If Heavenly Father will provide that kind of help, I will go!”
From that moment on I was filled with faith and hope that I would be able to go to the temple. The next day I called the stake leaders and was told that a trip had been scheduled to the Lima Peru Temple, the closest temple at the time, in January. The trip would cost 16,500 bolivares and would cover the plane ticket, food, and lodging.
The days went by, and the deadline for turning in the money was fast approaching. I tried to earn the money, but I was no closer to having what I needed. My faith never faltered, however. I was that sure that Heavenly Father would provide a way.
Not long before the deadline, I received a telephone call from a former employer. The person calling addressed me by name and said, “You were employed by this petroleum company five years ago. When you left, your benefits were not calculated correctly. Please come in and pick up the check we have issued in your name.”
I went to get the check the next day. When I looked at the amount, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The check had been issued for exactly 16,500 bolivares!
On January 17, 1989, I entered the Lima Peru Temple and received my temple endowment. My friend was right. Heavenly Father had provided a way for me to go to the temple. As Nephi declared, “The Lord is able to do all things … for the children of men, if it so be that they exercise faith in him” (1 Nephi 7:12).

My boss, classmates, neighbors, and relatives thought it was absurd for me to abandon work, studies, and family to teach of Jesus Christ. They became even more concerned when they learned I would not be paid for doing this.

I asked the Lord for help. I began to ask people: “What is the purpose of life? Why are we here? Where are we going?” I bore my testimony of the plan of salvation. I explained that many children of God are waiting for answers to these questions.

Elder Carlos Eduardo Faria Boato,Brazil Maceió Mission

Then came my third encounter with death.
A few years later, my family and I drove across the country to visit my grandparents. My grandpa had been battling cancer for several years, and the chemotherapy treatments were taking a significant toll on him. It was painful to watch him struggle.
At the end of our trip, we woke up early to start on the long drive home. We all hugged our grandpa goodbye, and the realization began to hit us that this would likely be our last goodbye. He asked if he could pray for us, which we gratefully accepted. Then we left.
A few weeks later, he passed away.
At his viewing, my grandmother reminded all of her children and grandchildren of how much our grandfather had loved us and how grateful she was for the plan of salvation. As I looked down at my grandfather’s body, his spirit now gone, I didn’t want this to be last time I saw him.
Suddenly, I felt that this wasn’t the end. My grandfather was dead, but he wasn’t gone. I felt the Spirit testify to me that Heavenly Father’s plan for us is real.
I felt in my heart the words of Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles regarding the plan of salvation: “The Father’s design, His plan, His purpose, His intent, His wish, and His hope are all to heal you, all to give you peace, all to bring you, and those you love, home.”