Gospel Story Finder

In 2007, the United States was in the middle of an economic downturn. Because of this recession, some of my business clients were filing for bankruptcy and shutting down their businesses. This was hurting my business. As I sought to provide for my family and to help my clients, I was seeking guidance from Heavenly Father on what I should do. I wasn’t getting a clear answer and I didn’t know what to do. One morning as I was praying and reflecting upon this problem, I picked up the Book of Mormon and began to read. As I read this wonderful book, I felt ideas come to my mind on what I could do to help my clients and my business. It was a clear answer to my prayers.

When Steve and I were dating, I used to go sit on the beach while he would surf, often with a book in my hand to pass the time. Once, when the surf was really big, I climbed up into a platform that had been built into a tree so that I could see better. It was 12 to 15 feet at Sunset Beach, and Steve was practically beside himself with excitement.

The next couple of hours were some of the worst of my life. I don’t know how close any of you have been to 15 foot waves, but these were huge and close to closing out the break—which means unsurfable. You also have to keep in mind that Hawaiian surfers measure from the back of the wave, which means that the face of the wave, what you and I see from the beach, is double the size of the back of the wave.

For most of that time, I couldn’t even see him. I would see him catch a wave and then disappear into the huge crashing white wash. Then I would search desperately until I saw him catch the next wave. It was not fun. I kept thinking, “Is he going to make it back out? Am I going to lose him? What if he doesn’t come back up after this one?”

When he finally paddled in, I scrambled down out of the tree and ran to meet him. He was grinning ear to ear and totally pumped. “Steven,” I said, “don’t ever bring me to watch you in surf that big again.”

In hindsight, I shouldn’t have gone to watch him. I’ve lived on islands all my life. I know what big surf looks like, and I know the dangers involved. This was just the first time that someone I loved was out there in that crazy stuff! Steve and I worked out a compromise—he continued to surf big waves, and my rule of thumb as a spectator became 8 feet or under.

Carrie hurried around the corner of the grocery store aisle, trying to keep the cart out of the reach of her six-year-old brother, Andy.
“No fair!” he cried. “You’ve pushed it the whole time we’ve been here.” He tried to grab the cart, but nine-year-old Carrie twisted it away quickly, accidentally hitting a row of ketchup bottles lined up neatly on a shelf. Two of the bottles crashed to the floor, shattering and spraying the bright red contents everywhere. The two children stared in horror at the broken glass and scarlet ketchup.
Mom came around the corner just then, saying, “I want you two to stay with me. …” Her words trailed off as she saw the mess on the floor and the misery on Carrie and Andy’s faces.
“It looks like there’s been an accident,” she said. “It’s all right. Sometimes things break and have to be cleaned up. There’s no use crying over spilt ketchup.”
Mom found a clerk, who cleaned up the mess without getting mad at Carrie or Andy. Carrie still felt terrible. She knew it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been swinging the cart to keep it away from Andy. Before they left the store, she quietly told Mom how the bottles had been broken. Mom listened solemnly while Andy stood with a scared expression on his face.
“Are we in trouble?” Andy asked, struggling to keep from crying.
Mom hugged Andy. “No, I think you feel badly enough about what happened that you’ll be more careful in the grocery store from now on. But, Carrie, what do you think you need to do to make up for the store losing those two bottles of ketchup?”
“I think I need to pay for them. I didn’t mean to break them, but it was still my fault.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Mom said. “I can lend you the money for now, and you can pay me back at home.”
At the cash register, Mom explained that Carrie had been playing around with the cart when the bottles broke, and so she wanted to pay for them. The clerk thanked Carrie for being so honest, and Carrie felt much better.
At home, Carrie didn’t feel quite as good when she gave Mom part of the money she’d been saving for a tape player, but she was still glad she didn’t have that sick feeling in her stomach that she had felt when the bottles exploded on the floor. She remembered how red everything looked. She had been afraid she would see that stain on the floor forever, reminding her of her mistake, but it had come clean with a wet mop.

He moved in with his older brother, and during that year, found a job as an electronics technician in a local business. The dreams of his higher education were beginning to come true.
With no organized Church unit in Libreville, Gabin held unofficial meetings on Sundays and family home evenings on Mondays at his home. Some friends and a few family members attended with interest. Gabin would teach from the Book of Mormon and they would watch 2004 general conference sessions.
Throughout this time, Internet services inside Gabon were unreliable and costly—and accessing websites outside the country was almost impossible. From time to time, Gabin was able to access Church websites and download a general conference talk or two. These he would print out and add to his Sunday “lesson plans”.
In 2008, he met Fleur and fell deeply in love. Gabin remembers, “I found a girl!” Fleur had a daughter, Eve, and he fell in love with her, too. Fleur and Eve usually attended a local Protestant congregation, but throughout their courtship, he taught them missionary lessons. They started attending his Sunday meetings and family home evenings on Mondays. Gabin and Fleur were married in 2013 in a civil ceremony.
At the beginning of 2014, Gabin found an article online reporting that Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had a few months earlier been in Libreville. It was just after the Gabonese government had officially recognized the Church and had permitted the beginning of missionary activities. Elder Bednar had dedicated the country of Gabon for the preaching of the gospel and he had organized the Libreville Branch. Gabin was stunned. For more than eight years he had likely been the only endowed member of the Church living in Gabon and suddenly there was a branch organized in his home city.
Using an email address found in the article, Gabin wrote to the Africa Southeast Area office, asking questions about the Church situation in Libreville. Elie Monga, president of the Brazzaville mission in the Republic of Congo, was informed and a few days later, while at work, Gabin received a visit from Elder Michael Moody, the first senior missionary to serve in Gabon.
After their initial greeting, Gabin said to Elder Moody, “I have a few questions. First, where can I pay my tithing?” For more than eight years, Gabin had carefully kept his tithing money in a small box.
“Second,” he asked, “Where can I buy new temple garments? Eight years ago, I brought a few to Libreville, and every night since I have been carefully hand washing them.” Elder Moody went to the car, opened his suitcase, and gave Gabin a brand-new pair of garments that he had been prompted to pack in his travel case that morning.
The next Sunday, Gabin, Fleur, Eve, Gabin’s nephew Yann, plus Annaïck and Pauline, Fleur’s nieces were six of the ten people sitting in the Libreville Branch sacrament meeting. Fleur was taught the missionary lessons and shortly afterward was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. And so were Eve, Yann, Annaïck, and Pauline.
In 2015, Gabin adopted Eve. And later that year the three of them—Gabin, Fleur, and Eve—flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, where this unlikely story concludes with significant eternal consequences. Fleur received her endowment, she and Gabin were sealed together, and Eve was sealed to them both in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
In 2016, Elie Monga, president of the Republic of Congo Brazzaville Mission, travelled to Libreville to preside over a division of the Libreville Branch. Gabin Mendene was called to serve as president of the Libreville 2nd Branch. Shortly afterward, while attending district conference, Elder Kevin S. Hamilton—former Brussels Belgium mission president and now a General Authority Seventy and president of the Africa Southeast Area—looked out from his seat on the rostrum. And sitting there in the middle of the congregation was someone he had not seen in ten years—a patient man with an extraordinary conversion story and a church pioneer in Africa—Gabin from Gabon.

To illustrate this further, I share the true account of a family with five sons who moved from Los Angeles, California, USA, to a small community some years ago. The two oldest sons began playing high school sports and associating with friends, leaders, and coaches—many of whom were faithful members of the Church. These relationships helped lead to the baptism of Fernando, the oldest, and his next younger brother.
Fernando later moved away from home, where he continued his education and played college football. He married his high school sweetheart, Bayley, in the temple. As Fernando and Bayley finished their schooling, they eagerly anticipated the birth of their first child—a baby girl. But during the process of their families helping to move Fernando and Bayley back home, Bayley and her sister were driving on the freeway and were in a tragic accident involving many vehicles. Bayley and her unborn daughter lost their lives.
Yet as deep as was Fernando’s pain, as well as that of Bayley’s parents and siblings, so too was the depth of contrasting peace and comfort that distilled upon them almost immediately. The Holy Ghost in His role as Comforter truly sustained Fernando through this incomprehensible affliction. The Spirit communicated an abiding peace that led Fernando to an attitude of forgiveness and love toward everyone involved in the tragic crash.
Bayley’s parents called her brother who was serving as a missionary at the time of the accident. He described in a letter his feelings upon hearing the difficult news of his beloved sister: “It was amazing to hear your voices so calm in the midst of a tempest. I did not know what to say. … All I could think of is my sister may not be there when I come home. … I was comforted by your infallible testimonies of the Savior and His plan. The same sweet spirit that brings me to the verge of tears as I study and teach filled my heart. I was then comforted and reminded of the things that I know.”8
The Holy Ghost will help you by comforting you, as He did Fernando and Bayley’s family.

I know of two visiting teachers who had barely begun talking to a sister in her home when her two teenage daughters bounced in, announcing they were going to Young Women. Her husband, who also was leaving for an evening of meetings, detained their three-year-old son, who was determined to accompany his older sisters. Two other girls were arguing in the next room over which video to watch. When all the doors closed, the mother started to cry. It had been, she explained, a long week.
The visiting teachers wisely gave this very busy wife and mother a chance to talk. She discussed her week and how much she was missing her recently deceased mother. The three talked and shared their understanding of the gospel and the difficulties of every day application. The visiting teachers—one is single and has no children and the other is a single parent—praised their sister for all she was doing to raise her family well.
The mother felt better. The visiting teachers grew closer to each other and to this dear sister. They all felt better. In the true spirit of Relief Society, these visiting teachers strengthened this sister and her home. I feel better. Why? Because this story witnesses what I know—that Relief Society is indeed a balm that unites us, that helps us in our families. Sisters, I testify to you that one of our most important roles as Relief Society members is to strengthen each other, so all of us are better able to help our families. We come together. We learn from each other. We go home and strengthen our families. It’s that simple, yet how profound it is that we have this organization to be our balm of Gilead.

Let me tell you another story about a tough choice. I felt, that when I got home from my mission, I wanted to carry this [same extraordinary] spirit [I felt] with me. I knew that in order to do that, I had to have a great wife. I thought about my life, and I thought, where am I going to find this great wife? I remember thinking, "Am I going to find her in Japan? Am I going to find her in China? Should I go back to Mexico where I served a mission? Maybe she's in Provo? Where is this woman that I need to meet?" and I prayed about it many, many times, trying to understand from the Lord where I should go to meet this woman. One night, I had a dream, and in my dream I was standing on a hillside. There was a small house behind me, and I was on a hillside that overlooked an area that I recognized, so it was familiar. I looked down at my foot, and under my foot, I saw a single daisy. I moved my foot, and as the daisy came up, the impression came to me, "She's right under your feet." I thought, "Well, maybe I don't need to go to China; maybe she's right around here somewhere."

A couple of weeks later, an old friend of mine from high school, who had been a non-member at the time, who chose to come to BYU-Hawaii and while she was here, gained a testimony of the Church, and was baptized at Temple Beach her name was Jo Ellen, met me at Young Adult meeting after church one day.

We reminisced for a while, and she came back to me and said, "I'm going on a mission." I thought, "Great! You're going to be a great missionary! You're going to have a great time! My good friend, Jo Ellen, go have that mission." "Would you mind I would like to go to the temple one last time before I go on my mission. I don't you suppose you would and this is kind of embarrassing, but I don't suppose you would mind going to the temple with me?" "What's the harm in that? I would love to go to the temple with you."

We went down to the Los Angeles temple, and while we were in the temple oh my goodness, in white, she looked beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off of her; she glowed. I remember I had forgotten about this dream, but while we were in the temple this dream came back to my mind, and I thought, "here's my daisy." So for anniversaries, we give daisies to each other.

She was supposed to go on a mission, but I knew it was her. The thing about this dream, though, in the temple, at that moment, I recognized the house: it was hers. I recognized the hillside: it was hers. And I knew that I had found my daisy. She went on a mission. I wrote her every week. She sent me two "Dear John's." We got married shortly after her mission.

I made the right choice, and it's made all the difference.

There’s something different about Chris and Jason Trevino of Huntsville, Alabama. Something different in a positive way, a way that makes you want to understand why they’re so upbeat all the time and why they seem to have life all figured out.
This is made all the more intriguing by the fact that the two 19-year-old brothers are identical twins—twins so much alike that people get confused, yet with something so different about them they stand out among their peers. For example:
—They spend a lot of time helping their neighbors, the Wellmans, take care of their three youngest children, Michael, Jennifer, and Nathan. They play and laugh with and tease them in a good-natured way. They organize parties for them and take them fishing or boating. Sometimes they all camp out as a group in the Wellmans’ backyard. Chris and Jason are more like older brothers than neighbors to them. And what do the twins get in return for their kindness? A squeeze play. The kids smother them with hugs.
—They take care of three horses at a nearby riding club, mostly in return for the privilege of being allowed to exercise them now and then. They do the dirty work without complaining. They show up when they say they will and do all that they’re asked. They help with expenses. They’re totally dependable.
—They love their family. Put Jim and Barbara Trevino and their twin boys together and it’s like you’re with a group of best buddies, friends who treat each other with ultimate respect. Add 15-year-old sister Allison to the mix, and it only gets better.
Bad mood? The twins make it disappear.
Help with homework? No problem.
Want to tag along while we go somewhere? Great. Hop in.
Yes, the twins treat everyone well, most of all mom and dad and sister. But there’s something else—fondness may be the closest description. This family really enjoys being together, in a way that lets you know they’ll always be close.
—Most of all, at a time in life when many young men of their age and athletic ability concentrate on which college they’ll attend, what teams they’ll be on, and what young women they’re dating, the twins are leaving all that behind.
Argentina. That’s what they want to talk about right now, because soon that’s where they’ll be. They’ve both been called to serve as full-time missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Chris in Bahia Blanca. Jason in Resistencia. Two years at their own expense. Two years bearing testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ. Two years focused entirely on the needs of other people.
And maybe that’s the clue to figuring out the Trevino twins. The difference that makes them both the same is their love for other people. It’s a love that comes from following the Savior and living his teachings, from concentrating on what really counts instead of wasting worry on worldly things. It’s a dedication that brings happiness so filling it spills out into everything they do and everyone they meet. Add that to personalities that have always been spontaneous, and you’ll find Chris and Jason telling everyone what they’re up to:
—Getting passport pictures taken, they keep telling the photographer about how they’ll be representing the Church. “That’s why we brought our suits for the pictures,” Chris explains.
—Meeting with the county sheriff, who has to sign letters for their visas, they can’t help explaining how excited they are about spreading the gospel. “I can tell,” chuckles the sheriff, who already knows their father.
—At the county government building, they tell the clerks about going to Argentina to preach the gospel. “Isn’t that great?” Jason beams.
—Their mother’s boss, Victor Howard, is a Church member who works across the street. Dropping in to visit, they soon have him joking along with them. But after a few minutes, they talk seriously about the mission he served and how much he loves the Lord, the gospel, and the Church.
You have to understand. Chris and Jason are the kind of guys who, if you ask about diving and you’re close to the community pool, will show you the dives they do. Never mind that they didn’t bring their suits. They’ve been lifeguards here, and the caretaker, who knows them well, gives permission. They look at each other, accept the challenge, and even though they’re in jeans, jump on the board and plunge in the pool. You get the feeling that’s the same way they’ll plunge into missionary work—follow the rules, be dependable, work hard. But get with it—no wimpy excuses.
It’s sort of like a lesson Chris says he learned at the stables.
“Horses are good,” he explains. “If you work with them you learn to love them. But there’s one named Alvin. I don’t like to ride him a whole bunch because of his attitude. He fights me and tries to get the reins from my hands. He thinks he should do what he wants when he wants. There are a few missionaries who are like that. If their mind’s stuck on somebody back home, or if they go out just because everybody else thinks they should be there, they’ve got to change their attitude. You can’t complain about the reins; you’ve got to concentrate on where you’re going.”
And that’s what Chris and Jason are doing—concentrating on where they’re going. Not just on their missions but in their lives.
Sure there are some things that will be tough to leave behind. Family first of all. Friends a close second. Even the horses they’ve taken care of. And school, and work, and just having a blast. But nothing stands in the way once you gain the perspective of eternity. Even having to work in separate missions.
“Chris opened his call letter first, and I saw Argentina,” Jason says. “Then I opened mine, and for a split second it was like, ‘We’ll be in the same mission!’ Then we read more and found out we’d be in different parts of the country. We’ve been together for 19 years, and now we’ll be apart. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is what we’ll be doing.”
Serving others. Bringing them the truth.
Like the times when they’ve talked with Mrs. Wellman about her oldest son, who died in an accident at age four, and where he is now and what he’s doing. Like the times when they’ve shared Church magazines with her, or watched the video Called to Serve.
“Don’t just let her borrow it,” Chris said then. “Let’s have her over here and we’ll all watch it together.”
These are, after all, brothers who are close in more ways than appearance. “We talk about everything together,” Jason says. “Now we’ll just do it through our letters.” That will make for some pretty great letters. Letters they’ll share with Mom and Dad and Allison. Letters they’ll share with the Wellmans and their kids. Letters they’ll share with close friends. Letters in which they’ll bear testimony and record the adventures of two years spent preaching the gospel.
“In the past we looked at missions like they were something they ask you to do,” Jason says. “Once we got closer to it, we thought, ‘It’s the Lord and the prophet who call you, and their way is the right way to go.’ We’d go to church and come home in such a great mood. We talk to everybody about it.”
That includes the 12- and 13-year-old Sunday School class he and Chris teach together.
“I’m learning more and more about the gospel,” Jason says, “especially when we talk about things like the plan of salvation and patriarchal blessings. It’s a learning experience. And I think a lot about Heavenly Father and how much he loves us. He gave up his son for us. He must have a lot of love for us to do something like that.”
“Being as close as I am to my brother,” Chris continues, “it gives me some understanding of how close I should be to the Savior, who is also my brother. Even though Jason and I will be apart during our missions, we’ll be close to Him. And that will make the bond between us even stronger.”
Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That’s the something that makes these twins different from a lot of their peers, but exactly the same in what truly counts.
Editor’s note: Since this story was written, both Chris and Jason have arrived in Argentina and are faithfully serving their missions.

In 1983, when I was 15 years old, I asked my mom why no one cared about Latin America. I wondered if God even loved us. Did He forget about us until Christopher Columbus arrived in the Americas? I wondered why Jesus Christ hadn’t come to this continent, and I felt there should be a book about prophets and God’s relationship with America.
My mom, a devout Catholic, replied, “God created us, and He loves all of His children in the world.”
I said, “If so, why didn’t Jesus Christ come to this continent? There should be a book about prophets and God’s dealings with America.”
My mother emphatically said there was a Bible to which nothing should be removed or added. She told me not to think about it anymore and to recite the Rosary prayer because I was a Catholic.
In 1993, I was married and had one child. One day at work, a secretary took a Book of Mormon to the office, placed it near a glass, and left it. She did not tell me what the book was about, but I was curious. I decided to keep the book. Around the same time, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints started visiting my mother. One day, while visiting her house, the missionaries knocked on her door, and I happened to answer it. As we visited, they asked if they could see my family too. My spouse and I agreed.
At our first meeting, I was surprised to learn that this religion had a book called the Book of Mormon. It contained over a thousand years of history and told the story of Jesus Christ coming to the Americas, paralleling the time period of the Bible. I read the entire book in four days and felt immense joy. I knew with certainty that it was the book I longed for, that God and Jesus Christ loved everyone, even those of us who live in the Americas.
In March 1993, my spouse and I were baptized, and we covenanted to give our lives to help establish the kingdom of God in this small place on earth. This decision brought miracles into our lives and into the small branch we attended.
Before our baptism, 11 brethren in the branch had prayed every day at 6:00 a.m. for a family to come and stay so they wouldn’t have to close the unit. At the same time, I had been praying for a permanent home. We all had our prayers answered!
A month after we were baptized, I was called as music leader, and my husband became the president of the Cua Branch in Palo Verde, Venezuela. Two years later, in October 1996, we traveled with our two children to the temple in Lima, Peru, and were sealed for eternity as a family.
As I tell my story, my children say, “Our mom came to earth saying, ‘There is a book! There is a book! I have to find it!’” But in reality the book found me!
From the moment I found the Book of Mormon, my life had meaning, purpose, and direction. I feel the love of God and my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Elder Dale G. Renlund recounted that he learned something at the dedication of the Helsinki Finland Temple in 2006. He explained that the country of Finland had been in conflict and war with Russia for centuries, but when the day came for the members of the church in Finland to receive a temple in their country, they set aside the first day of temple operations for the members who were visiting from Russia. The love of the members for our Heavenly Father and their fellow men was stronger than the conflict between these two countries.5

One Saturday morning while I was serving in the Lima Peru Temple, a group of about 20 children from one of the Lima stakes came for a visit. After warmly shaking the hand of each child, the temple president spoke to them about the sacred work of the temple. He especially emphasized the continuation of family relationships and the meaning of the phrase “Families are forever.”
The children were reverent and listened carefully. One of these visitors was a little girl named Rosita, who was five years old. That night she stayed up late until her father returned from work, waiting for him on the edge of her bed.
When he arrived, he was surprised to see his daughter still awake. Rosita jumped off the bed and ran to him. He picked her up, and she put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“And how is my little Rosa?” he asked.
“I am well, Papi.”
“Were you a good girl today?”
“Yes, Papi.”
“Was there something you wanted me to do for you?”
She nodded her head.
“What is it? What do you want, sweetheart?”
“Papi,” she said, pausing briefly, “when are you going to take me to the temple?”
Her father paused a few seconds before answering.
“I’m going to take you, Rosa. It’s just that I’m working hard right now, and I’m really busy. But I promise I will take you.”
“Thank you, Papi,” said Rosita, hugging and kissing her father again.
“Now go to bed and try to sleep.”
Many months later, Rosita’s family gathered in one of the sealing rooms of the temple. Moments of great rejoicing followed the sealing ceremony. Rosita’s father, with great love and tenderness, embraced each of his children, ending with the youngest—Rosita.
“Some months ago this little girl made a trip to the temple with the Primary children from our stake,” Rosita’s father told the sealer who had performed the ceremony. “That night she waited for me to get home from work and asked me when I was going to take her to the temple. I knew she didn’t just want to see the outside of the temple, so I have had to put my life in order and get rid of my bad habits. It has taken a lot of effort, but I have finally succeeded. Today is the most beautiful day I have ever experienced because today my family has been united for all eternity.”

“We’re finally here. There is the stone house by the wharf,” Hilda’s father called.
“At last,” her mother sighed. “How good it will be to set foot on dry land again.”
Slowly the ship moved toward the shore. How many days, wondered Hilda, have we traveled up the river from New Orleans?
Soon many people were bustling up and down the gangplank that the sailors had lowered as a bridge between the ship and the wharf.
“Look, Mother,” Hilda called. “There goes Father. He’s carrying our rocking chair down the gangplank.”
When all their belongings had been unloaded, Hilda and her mother walked off the ship and onto land. Father had their belongings piled on a wagon. He helped Hilda and Mother climb onto the wagon seat, and then the three of them rode down the main street of Nauvoo. They rode slowly past the brick homes already completed and other homes being built.
Soon the Larson family reached the outskirts of Nauvoo. Halfway down a narrow lane where weeds grew, Father stopped the horse. They were in front of a small log cabin.
“Is this the home Brother Cox said we could use?” Mother asked as if she could not believe it.
Father stepped from the wagon and reached up to help Hilda down. “Yes,” he answered. “Brother Cox will be in England on his mission through the winter. By next summer we’ll have a home of our own.”
Hilda slowly followed her mother across a dirt yard to the cabin. They stepped through the doorway.
The room was small, about twenty steps in each direction. There was a fireplace on one wall, and two walls had single windows.
Hilda wrinkled up her nose at the smell of the damp earth floor mingled with the odor of old rags used to stuff the cracks.
“Well,” Mother sighed as she took off her shawl, “we must get busy and move our things inside. At least it will be good to have a roof over our heads.”
But sometimes during the winter that followed Hilda thought they would be almost as well off without a roof at all. On wet days it leaked, and icy drops of water often fell on Hilda’s face while she lay sleeping. When she sat before the fireplace, drops sometimes trickled down her neck. The cabin was seldom warm. There were no cupboards; a wooden chest was their table. Hilda’s bed was made on a board placed on the floor.
Father found work in the stone quarry, but on every tenth day he helped build the temple.
Hilda and her mother twisted cotton in wicks to sell to a local candle factory, and Mother sometimes helped a milliner make hats. So the Larsons kept busy throughout the long winter.
Finally spring came. Birds sang in the locust trees. Hilda saw lilac bushes begin to bloom, and bright yellow daffodils dotted the fields.
One morning Hilda’s mother said, “We’ve finished a bundle of wicks. Will you please take it to the factory?”
Hilda was glad for a walk in the warm spring sunshine.
Mother gave her the bundle of wicks and another package pinned tightly together. “Give this package to Mr. Lindgren, the shoemaker, after you deliver the wicks,” Mother told Hilda. “His shop is on the corner of Mulholland Street.”
Hilda asked what was in the package. Mother only smiled. “Mr. Lindgren will know,” she said.
When Hilda reached the candle factory, a plump lady took the wicks and counted them. “You and your mother have earned seventy-four cents,” she said.
Hilda left the factory and walked to Mr. Lindgren’s shop. Inside the long narrow building Hilda could smell new lumber. On a board plank near the door were finished shoes, heavy boots for men, and sturdy shoes for children. A beautiful pair of soft kid shoes caught Hilda’s attention. What girl in Nauvoo will be lucky enough to own those beautiful shoes? she wondered.
“Is that package for me?” Mr. Lindgren asked.
Hilda nodded. “I have one for your mother too,” he said. Mr. Lindgren handed Hilda a plain square box. “Be careful with it,” he cautioned.
Mother was waiting when Hilda reached the cabin. Hilda gave her the money she had received for the wicks, and then she held out the box. But Mother shook her head and told Hilda to keep it.
“I made a hat for Mr. Lindgren’s wife,” she explained, “and in exchange he made me something to give to you, Hilda, because you’ve been such a great help to me.”
Quickly Hilda opened the box. Inside was a pair of beautiful kid shoes just like the ones she had seen in Mr. Lindgren’s shop!
Hilda carefully took the shoes from the box. She could hardly believe they were for her.
“Oh, thank you, Mother!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright with love and happiness.
Hilda knew that she would have other shoes in her life, but she was sure that she would never again have shoes that could make her as happy as this beautiful pair!

The prophet’s visit became even more exciting, and my family with several other families waited for his visit to see what he would counsel us. I was excited to get an opportunity to pray in that meeting and listen to his message from just a few feet away. His words strengthened my testimony significantly. He helped us realize how we should be preparing ourselves for the temple.
He counselled us that we should stop contentions, love one another, and be honest and fair. He told us to remember to follow the ABCs, In which ”A” stands for ancestors and antiquity, “B” stands for being worthy, and “C” stands for teaching children the gospel. After uttering these things, he invoked a powerful blessing on all of us. Without a speck of doubt, I know that he is the prophet and living witness of Heavenly Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

When I was a boy, we lived on a farm in the summer. It was in the country, where the nights were dark. There were no streetlights or anything of the kind. My brother and I slept out-of-doors. On clear nights—and most of those nights were clear and the air was clean—we would lie on our backs and look at the myriads of stars in the heavens. We could identify some of the constellations and other stars as they were illustrated in our encyclopedia. Each night we would trace the Big Dipper, the handle and the cup, to find the North Star.
We came to know of the constancy of that star. As the earth turned, the others appeared to move through the night. But the North Star held its position in line with the axis of the earth. And so it had come to be known as the Polar Star, or the Polestar, or the Lodestar. Through centuries of time, mariners had used it to guide them in their journeys. They had reckoned their bearings by its constancy, thereby avoiding traveling in circles or in the wrong direction, as they moved across the wide, unmarked seas.
Because of those boyhood musings, the Polar Star came to mean something to me. I recognized it as a constant in the midst of change. It was something that could always be counted on, something that was dependable, an anchor in what otherwise appeared to be a moving and unstable firmament.

It was at the height of his career as an orthodontist that Randall Kay Bennett and his wife, Shelley, felt “a distinct impression” to prepare to serve missions. This meant that they would need to sell their home right away.
The reason for the prompting didn’t become immediately apparent—it took three years for their home to sell, a process that “took a lot of patience” and required that they “show the Lord that we were really committed,” Elder Bennett says. “We continued to trust in the Lord and tried to stay close to Him through frequent temple attendance, daily scripture study, prayer, fasting, and service to others.”
Shortly after their home finally sold, Elder Bennett was called to serve at the Provo Missionary Training Center and then as president of the Russia Samara Mission.
“It was wonderful—and very humbling—to know that the Lord had been mindful of us and had been preparing us,” Elder Bennett said. “We have come to know that the Lord is aware of the thoughts of our minds and the feelings of our hearts. We have learned to trust that He knows better than we do, that He knows more than we do, and that He loves us.”

He had big dreams. He and his partner had placed second at the junior level United States nationals, third at U.S. nationals, and first in an international competition in China. His plan was to compete in the 2006 Winter Olympics and then go on a mission after he turned 21. But when he was 18, just when everything was going smoothly, he ran into a snag.
“I wasn’t really enjoying it, and I was having a hard time with the sport,” he remembers. “I was just trying to push through it, and I could not do it anymore. I said, ‘Lord, what do I do?’”
Chris got the first part of his answer when he went to talk to his bishop, who encouraged him to pray about his plan to delay his mission. “His advice kind of went in one ear and out the other,” Chris admits. “But my life got to the point where I really did have to ask, and I really did have to listen.”
The second part of Chris’s answer came during a sacrament meeting. As he listened to his Young Men president talk about his own mission call, the Spirit told him, “‘Chris, you need to serve a mission when you’re 19, or you’re going to have a tough life.’ The message was so clear I actually turned around to see if someone was there,” he says. “The feeling came back 10 times stronger, and I knew I had to go on a mission.”
That night Chris called his partner and coaches to give them the news. When he had first started training with them, he told them that a mission was a possibility. But none of them had expected him to go—at least not yet. Although they were disappointed, Chris says, “They’ve been very supportive of me and my mission, and I give them credit for that.”
Chris feels peace about his decision and where his life is going. “I’m grateful Heavenly Father gave me that prompting,” he says. “But it’s been really hard since then. Satan tried to bring me down in any way possible.”
To combat the fears and temptations, Chris read the scriptures and prayed the way he used to dedicate himself to practicing at the ice rinks in Delaware, where he lived while he trained. He studied the scriptures at least twice a day, and he set aside time to pray earnestly at least three times a day. “That really protected me,” he says. He also credits much of his help to surrounding himself with good friends and family when he came back home to the Thirteenth Ward of the Salt Lake Central Stake.
There are lots of rules in ice dancing—lots of required and restricted moves. To succeed takes a lot of creativity and dancing talent. Chris thinks his experiences with ice dancing will help him on his mission—experiences like learning to get along with a partner, following strict rules, and being dedicated to something every day for a long time.
His call to the Baltic States Mission, Russian speaking, was exciting for Chris, especially since he knows speaking Russian will help him if he still wants to return to ice dancing after his mission. (Many of the competitors and coaches speak Russian.) He also wants to be a coach eventually. But for now, he says, “I just want to try to bring people to a knowledge of the gospel.”

One of the especially happy times in my life happened when I was seventeen years old. My friends and I went to a fireside where the speaker taught us about our Savior’s love. He told us that we could have confidence in the Savior, that He would lead us, that He would be there for us, that our faith in Him could increase and we could feel greater happiness than we had ever known.
But we needed to do something: We needed to choose to believe in the Savior and His love; we needed to ask for His help, and then we needed to practice thinking about Him all through the day.
The speaker suggested that to help us remember to think about the Savior, we could listen to the school bell that rang often during the day. Each time we heard the bell, we were to say a silent prayer, even with our eyes open, even walking down the hall. We could thank our Heavenly Father for our blessings, especially for our Savior. We could tell Him of our love and ask for His help. He taught us that in just a few seconds, many times during the day, we could practice thinking about our Heavenly Father and Savior.
There was something else: The speaker suggested that almost immediately we move from praying for ourselves to praying for someone else—a friend, a teacher, a stranger—and asking Heavenly Father to bless that person.
He also warned us that all of this might seem awkward at first but that if we chose to try, we could truly be filled with His love, our faith really would grow, and we would feel joy.
That sounded wonderful to me. I decided to try. I could not believe how many times the bell rang each day! When I heard it, I stopped. “Heavenly Father, thank you. Please bless me and bless Dorene. I know she’s having struggles.” It was awkward at first, but soon I found myself thinking about Heavenly Father and the Savior not only when the bell rang but many times during the day. I remember walking across a muddy field one morning and seeing a tiny yellow flower. It was probably a weed, but to me it was beautiful, and I felt that He had created it just for me. I loved Him so much. My faith had increased, and I was happy.

I had been out in the mission field for a week when my mission president called and told me that my great-grandmother passed away. Most people don’t even get to meet their great-grandparents, let alone have them in their lives for 19 years, and I tried to be happy knowing that I would get to see her again. But all I could think about was that she was gone.
I’d heard stories about people being almost joyous at the passing of a loved one because that person was with family on the other side. And my great-grandmother was with her husband. He had passed away over 20 years earlier. And I was a missionary! If anyone should be happily preaching about living again, it was me. For a while, I felt guilty for feeling sad.
Then I came across Doctrine and Covenants 42:45: “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die.” Here were the words of the Lord telling me my feelings were OK, that loss naturally brings sadness. I didn’t need to feel guilty!
Since then, I have been able to go through the temple for my great-grandmother and participate in sealing her to my great-grandfather. It still hurts sometimes when I think about not seeing her in this life, but I know that because of Jesus Christ, one day I will be with her again.
Heather C., Oregon, USA

A recent letter from my amazing grandson serving in Oaxaca, Mexico, included this experience. From Elder Hunter Paul Clark:

"We had our last lesson with Jocabed and Enrique before they get baptized tomorrow. Jocabed was talking to us and said, 'I don’t think I have received my answer yet if the Church is—' then paused. After a few moments, she said, 'Nope, I have my answer: because I have seen the difference this has made in my family.' We didn’t have to say anything and the Spirit testified to her in the moment. I know that the Spirit is the teacher here and can testify to everyone that is willing to listen. I am so excited for them!
"The gospel has always been and was restored to bless families. The anti-Christ Korihor taught the people that there would be no Christ, and the women and the men began to commit whoredoms. Anti-Christ is anti-family, and anti-family is anti-Christ.
"I think of the great anguish and hopelessness we felt that day at Lake Powell. We would have done anything to bring Londyn back! I plead with you to build your foundation on Christ and His gospel by doing His teachings, that your houses do not fall and your children not perish.
"Tom Perry taught in one of our devotionals that the Church is the scaffolding that exists to perfect the individual and exalt eternal families."

Four years ago I was in Kiev, Ukraine, and the mission president’s wife took me to the home of Katya Sarduk, a lovely young woman with two children. Katya had just joined the Church, and her eyes sparkled as she told about her conversion. She loved her new faith and was committed to living the gospel. As I left her home that day, I prayed that the fire of the covenant would continue to burn in her heart. I prayed that her children and her children’s children would embrace the truth.

I returned to Kiev just two months ago and wondered if I would see her again. I arrived for Church meetings on Sunday. Soon I was introduced to my interpreter, a lovely blonde woman with sparkling eyes who said, “Do you remember me?” Her countenance was even brighter than before. Katya Sarduk had grown in the gospel. She had invested in her spiritual well-being, and her joy was overflowing.