Gospel Story Finder

In February 2010, my husband and I were serving as mission leaders of the Chile Santiago East Mission. Together with our missionaries and the Chilean people, we experienced the earthshaking horror of an 8.8-magnitude earthquake.
It was one of the most frightening experiences we’ve ever had. It shook our home, but it didn’t shake our faith in Jesus Christ and His prophets. In fact, it strengthened our conviction that living prophets can prepare us for all things.
Nine months earlier, the Lord had prepared us through one of His chosen prophets, Elder Richard G. Scott. When he set us apart to serve as mission leaders, he gave us inspired counsel. He said that many times in our mission, the Spirit would awaken us in the early morning hours. He invited us to write down and act upon the messages the Spirit taught us, and he promised us that if we did, we would experience miracles.
Those words were fulfilled as the Spirit awakened me just two weeks before the earthquake, revealing to me that we needed to prepare our missionaries for an earthquake. We followed that prompting, and when the earthquake came, we experienced the miracles of peace and safety that Elder Scott had promised us.
This experience reminded us that we can find peace in a troubled world as we choose to follow our prophets’ inspired counsel.

Soon after I began to serve as the president of the Laie Hawaii Temple, during one of these precious visits to the Baptistry, I met a couple of students from this campus (Brigham Young University–Hawaii). I was introduced to a young man, John Komotios who had been coming all week with his wife and other students. I was informed that he had recently joined the Church through baptism. As I welcomed him, I extended an invitation to him, to come back to the temple often and regularly. I also invited him, that in a year to please let me know when he would come to the temple for his own endowment so that I could join him in that future special event in his life.

About three months ago John contacted me and invited me to attend the temple when he would receive his own endowment. I had the great privilege of being able to perform the new patron instructions for John. John and his wife, Addison, shortly after he received his endowments, traveled to the mainland to be sealed. A few weeks ago, John and Addison became temple workers.

Temple worship and service have played an important part in the spiritual foundation in the lives of John and Addison Komotios. Their story of temple worship and service is not uncommon, but rather it is quite a familiar story that we see time and time again, that involves students and others from this special community. I see many of you spending time in the Lord’s holy house as patrons, worshiping and then again in that same week I see you as temple workers, serving others. I am sure that Addison and many of you were the light and the righteous examples to John. Now, John is being a light and a righteous example to others around him. This is a major part of our Heavenly Father’s plan. This is what the Lord wants us to do. Once you have received the light, you are to become the light to others.

One of our daughters, after giving birth to a baby, became seriously ill. We prayed for her, administered to her, and supported her as best we could. We hoped she would receive a blessing of healing, but days turned into months, and months turned into years. At one point I told her that this affliction might be something she would have to struggle with the rest of her life.
One morning I remember pulling out a small card and threading it through my typewriter. Among the words that I typed for her were these: “The simple secret is this: put your trust in the Lord, do your best, then leave the rest to Him.”
She did put her trust in God. But her affliction did not disappear. For years she suffered, but in due course the Lord blessed her, and eventually she returned to health.
Knowing this daughter, I believe that even if she had never found relief, yet she would have trusted in her Heavenly Father and “[left] the rest to Him.”

The summer I turned 12, just before I entered the seventh grade, I encountered the first doubts I’d had about the gospel. My parents seemed to know the Church was true, and so did the many Church leaders I’d had throughout my life. But I realized I couldn’t remember ever feeling the “warm, fuzzy feeling” that everyone talked about.
So for three months, I prayed hard every night to feel it too. I prayed for any sign that Heavenly Father was listening to me and ready for me to know. Still, no answer came.
I didn’t tell my parents, siblings, or friends about my inner turmoil. I was scared to think I was the only one without an answer, that I was the only one who didn’t know for sure that the gospel is true.
After those three months, at the end of summer vacation, it was time for our family’s annual father’s blessings. These were our “back-to-school blessings,” as we called them, so the things spoken for each of my siblings generally fit with that theme. My dad blessed my siblings with success in their schooling and academic goals.
When it was my turn, my dad laid his hands on my head. Just after he started the blessing, he spoke nine words without hesitation, in the surest voice I’d ever heard him use, which shocked me: “I testify to you that this gospel is true.” My dad didn’t even mention my academic life. Instead, he simply bore his testimony for the entire blessing.
My eyes welled with tears that confused the rest of my family—none of them, including my father, knew about the questions I’d been struggling with. However, as I learned then, my Heavenly Father did.
Since that day, I can testify that no matter how or when, whether it’s through a feeling or the words of another, Heavenly Father will answer every prayer.

One day when President Cowley and I were traveling, we arrived at the home of Brother Stewart Meha, a great and wonderful Maori man. He presided over his large family as a true father and leader. President Cowley and Brother Meha spent all afternoon sitting on the porch and talking about the Church and other interesting things.

When it came time for the evening meal, Brother Meha stood on his front porch and, in the Maori language, shouted out to all of his large family, “Haere Mai Ki te Kai.” Then he said, “Haere Mai Ki Te Karakia.” These phrases meant, “Come on home for supper, Come on home for prayer.”

Soon family members came from every direction. We all assembled in his home in the big front room. The room had very little furniture in it, and everybody gathered in a large circle. Brother Meha was at the head of the circle, President Cowley was on his left, and I was next to President Cowley. On Brother Meha’s right was a little child about eight years of age. All around the rest of the circle were the other children, with some adults in between.

Brother Meha said to the little boy on his right, “You start.” I bowed my head in anticipation of the little boy’s prayer. Instead of praying, he quoted a scripture, after first reciting the chapter and verse. Then the young person next to him recited a scripture with the reference. After about four scriptures had been given, I realized that we were going around the circle, with each person quoting a different passage of scripture. One youngster started to quote one that had already been used, and he was quickly corrected.

Eventually it was my turn and then President Cowley’s. Then Brother Meha prayed.

One day when strolling down the road on which the Bridlington meeting house stands, my mind not taken up so much as usual with the needs of the day, I took to looking at the buildings that line this very ancient of streets.
My first observation was a surprising one, when I realised there had been eight churches of different denominations on the street at some point. Many were still there, but now used for different purposes than their builders intended. I then began to wonder at what had been on the sites of new buildings squeezed between the Victorian shops and houses. My curiosity aroused, I made a visit to our local studies library, and returned many times, as I became absorbed in the history of this road that had existed since pre-Christian times.
I was fascinated and felt that maybe others of the town would be also. This thought coincided with an invitation to attend a meeting to discuss ideas for the year’s Heritage Open Days (every September thousands of volunteers in towns and cities across the country organise events to celebrate Britain’s heritage and culture). I went along and volunteered to give a talk and put on an exhibition on the history of the street. Conscious that the biggest problem in doing so is finding a location, I had previously approached the Bishop and been given permission to use the church building.
A further thought had already come into my mind- why not extend the event to include a chapel Open House? Saddened by the missionaries’ lack of success in getting people to come into the building, I felt that putting on something of a nonreligious nature could be the encouragement people needed and hopefully once in the building, they might ask questions, pick up leaflets and read things on notice boards.
The foyer had the history of the Bridlington Ward, the Church’s involvement in humanitarian aid, emergency preparedness and ‘Just Serve.’ The notice board in the baptismal font told of Christ’s original Church, the apostasy and the restoration; and our belief in the need for baptism and the form it should take. Displays on the work of Relief Society, the Young Men and Young Women’s programmes and Primary, filled the classrooms, and the Elders Quorum were on hand to give help and advice on family history and show a film about one brother’s experience of finding out more about his family than merely their names and dates.
With excellent advertising on social media, in local newspapers and free events booklets supplied by the Heritage Week organisation, seventy people attended. No one asked the missionaries for the discussions, no-one new appeared at church the following day, but one man who attended the lecture approached me and raised my spirits when he expressed his appreciation for being able to tour the building and learn something of our beliefs. Others may have felt the same, but not expressed it. Seeds were sown and continued effort and new ideas will bring results. As Christ said: "If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you." (Matthew 17:20)

Two years after the 1978 revelation on priesthood was received and announced, a group of young Durban township boys were contacted and taught by missionaries. By the end of the year, this group had joined the Church, and in early 1981, they became members of the first organized branch of the Church in the township of KwaMashu (located north of Durban). In late 1984, Sipho Khomo—one of those township boys—was asked by his branch president if he would be willing to serve a full-­time mission.
The decision was not an easy one for him to make. At the time he was baptized, black South Africans referred to the Church as “Isonto Labe Lungu,” meaning, “Church of the Whites”—not a flattering label at all—but reflected impressions that many held about the Church during the difficult apartheid years in South Africa. Rumors, false stories, and the social issues stemming from racial tension in the country all weighed heavily on Sipho as he considered the bishop’s invitation to serve.
But exercising great faith, and without fully knowing the impact his decision would have to himself and to many others, Sipho accepted a call in October 1984 to serve in the London England Mission—making him the first black South African to serve as a full-time missionary.
During his mission and afterward, Sipho’s pioneering spirit motivated other African young men to accept mission calls and to serve the Lord. In fact, during one of Elder Khomo’s Christmas phone calls from England, the township boys all gathered with his family to hear of his missionary experiences. The enthusiasm from that telephone call was contagious, and shortly afterward, those same township boys submitted missionary paperwork and received calls from the prophet to serve in the mission field themselves.
In his own words, Brother Khomo said, “I am glad I went on my mission—it helped make me strong. I followed the counsel given in section 4 of the Doctrine and Covenants and served the Lord with all my ‘heart, might, mind and strength’ so that I could ‘stand blameless before God at the last day’” (verse 2).
Brother Khomo still lives in KwaMashu, and he remains faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ. His example influenced more than the township boys—and is felt even today as more than 1,000 full-time missionaries from the Africa Southeast Area currently serve in many countries around the world.

Shortly after our training in the Missionary Training Centre as a senior missionary couple, we reported to the mission office to meet with our mission leader, President Mutariswa, for assignments which included supporting the implementation of Gathering Place and Children and Youth Development (CYD) initiatives mission wide.
To carry out these assignments effectively, we needed to travel extensively to minister personally to the congregations and offer trainings for which it was our privilege.
On one of such scheduled visits to Makurdi District, CYD training was to take place Sunday afternoon. Immediately after the church service, it was so amazing to observe a little primary child named Stephanie, daughter of the branch president where training was to take place, start cleaning the chapel with all the tools she needed. She disposed refuse properly and returned all tools appropriately to designated room.
We were touched that a primary child of three years old could lead the way in keeping the chapel clean. After obtaining consent from her father, we reviewed our training slides to incorporate pictures of Stephanie’s worthy example as a demonstration of how a child could grow in wisdom and stature.
Further interaction with the family showed that parents in the Makurdi District use the CYD children’s guidebooks to train their children and Stephanie’s example becomes a sure proof of the efficacy of the Children Youth Development initiative.
We can’t describe in words the happiness we feel knowing that this initiative is a simple but powerful divinely appointed tool in hands of parents and leaders in helping the rising generation remain on the covenant path as they develop along the four (spiritual, physical, intellectual and social) aspects of life. How grateful we are to serve as a full-time missionary couple at this time when the prophet of God has asked we get enlisted in supporting the rising generation.
And Stephanie grows in wisdom and stature!

I have learned so much from so many of the faithful saints throughout our Area who have endeavoured to become self-reliant. I would like to share with you the story of Thatayaone Pule, who resides in Kanye, Botswana. I have known him ever since he was in Primary and have watched him grow up in the Church.

His parents were not members of the Church, so he went through the youth program being ministered to by others who treated him like their own son. At the age of 19 he served a mission. After his mission he returned home and got married immediately. Since he and his wife, Lesego, were so young and at that stage had not completed their tertiary education, the two of them did odd jobs together like clearing people’s yards and washing their laundry, in order to earn an income. They went on to buy and sell fruits and vegetables. With their savings, they opened a little internet café. He later got a job as a security camera installer. Because of his reliability, he was promoted to become a supervisor and four years later he was promoted to become site manager. This did not stop him from continuing his self-reliance endeavours. He then got into breeding dogs and this led him to his true passion—that of farming! He sold his dogs, and with the income he bought goats and later cattle.

Eventually, Thatayaone bought himself a huge piece of farmland where he is currently ploughing maize, watermelons, beans and sorghum. As their circumstances improved, Sister Pule went on to study for a diploma in business management.

This good family has learned to apply the things learned at church in their daily lives. Thatayaone has been serving as bishop for the past few years and has become a great blessing to his family, the members of the Church and many others in the community who have turned to him for guidance when it comes to self-reliance matters. In one of my conversations with Bishop Pule I asked him how all this started, and his answer was: “it all started after I attended a provident living workshop on mission.”

We continued our march through the forest, day after day getting closer to home. From the mountain path, we could look down and see the American tanks passing by. Just a few days after our first encounter with the Americans, we were making our way along when suddenly I had a funny feeling. I told my friends I had to go down—right down there where the tanks were. “You’re crazy!” they said. “Can’t you see the tanks down there? They’ll cut you right away.” I told them that didn’t matter. I had to go down.
“Heinz, did you pray about that?” Günther asked me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then I’ll go with you.”
Just like that. He didn’t think twice.

The other three stayed behind. “We’re not going with you because you’re crazy!” they said. “You’ll walk right into their arms.”
We marched down the hill as fast as we could. Günther, who was more than six-feet, five-inches tall and weighed 250 pounds, would put his arm under mine and nearly drag me along. After awhile, the other three came running behind us. They didn’t know why, they said, but they wanted to come with us. We came out of the forest.
Off to the left was a little farmhouse. As we came through the trees, the door of the house opened and a man said, “Come in fast.” We ran inside, and he slammed the door shut. Then he put us in the cow stable because it was forbidden to hide soldiers.

We had hardly crawled under the straw when the Americans came rolling through with tanks and trucks and went up into the mountains. It was the first time they had gone up there. Hours later they came back, their trucks filled with German soldiers who were taken to camps.

The principle of prior assurance and personal revelation lead me to a story that I feel impressed to share. I want to be very clear that this is a personal story, and just because it happened this way for me and my family does not mean that you will have the same experience. Rather, I hope the principles taught can be helpful to you in your life.

When we were engaged to be married, Bethany received a father's blessing. During that blessing, she felt a spiritual impression that she would have twins someday. She shared that experience with me, and I was excited at the thought. We both worked hard to align our wills with the Lord's and make use of the Atonement so that we would be worthy to receive this promised blessing. With our first pregnancy, I would not have been surprised if they said that we were going to have twins. We did not get twins but instead a healthy, beautiful girl: Lila (who is here with us today). Later, when Bethany was pregnant again, we wondered about twins. No twins. This time we had a beautiful, healthy boy: Ezra. During this pregnancy, Bethany started having some health complications. At this point, we were very happy with the family that we had; however, my wife and I knew that we would have twins someday. I couldn't help but wonder when that would be. When we found out we were expecting again, we thought for sure this would be twins. We went to the doctor and expected him to tell us that there were two babies that would come to us. This was not the case, but we did have another beautiful daughter: Madelyn, who taught me that powerful lesson about prayer. With increasingly difficult pregnancies, we wondered when or if these twins would be able to come to our family. In our fourth pregnancy, we thought surely this must be the twins coming. We went to the doctor again, somewhat anxious about what we would find out. As it turns out, we were again blessed with a beautiful baby girl: Sophia. I want to be clear that we were not disappointed in any of our pregnancies when we found out that it was only going to be one baby at a time. We were grateful and had powerful spiritual experiences with each pregnancy that the Lord wanted us to have these children at that specific time. It was very clear, and we did not doubt those experiences. However, my wife and I pondered about the impression about having twins. We talked and prayed many times to see, hear, or understand what the Lord would teach us. Up to this point, we didn't feel anything, except that we were on the Lord's path and were doing what He wanted us to do.

In May of last year, Bethany and I attended the Rexburg Temple. We both felt a powerful feeling from God that our family was not complete, and a longing and desire to have more children. We truly felt aligned with God's will, and we were willing to do whatever He wanted us to do. As we pondered and discussed what that meant, we both felt the impression that we should pray for the twins to come. We acted in faith and prayed many times and thought often about that impression. In September of last year, Bethany was pregnant, and we went to our first doctor appointment. As we sat in the office, the ultrasound tech said the heartbeat was good and things looked very normal. After a minute or two, she gasped and said, "I have to tell you something--there are two babies in there." Bethany and I looked at each other with such a feeling of love, comfort, and peace. God had sent us twins. Bethany had a very difficult pregnancy, including being on bedrest for several months. This was a hard time for both of us, but we felt so blessed by the Lord. I won't go into all the details here, but I will say that many miracles occurred as these special spirits came into our family. On a routine doctor visit, we had to go immediately to the hospital to deliver the twins. Of all the close calls and possible problems that could have happened, they came safely.

While they did have to spend a few weeks in the hospital, they are very healthy and happy girls. Penelope is shown on the left and Clementine on the right.

I don't mean to say that they were healthy because of something we did. That was a tender mercy. Of course it was completely out of our hands. Through the entire pregnancy, birth, and extended hospital stay, it was evident that we were not in control at all. This was what God wanted to happen, and we have learned that if we are willing to align ourselves with His will, then all will be well. That does not mean that everything will be easy, but it will be right. It will be just the right circumstances that our Heavenly Father will allow us to have so we can learn how to become like Him.

As you can tell from this photo, Bethany and I have a large family. We had six kids in six years. Having a large and young family has its challenges, to say the least, but Bethany and I have the children we do today because we followed what the Lord wanted us to do. And because we have done that, we are so very happy with the incredible blessings that we have been given.

The young women of the Chennai Second Branch, Chennai India District, wanted to encourage branch members to hold family home evening. It didn’t take them long to come up with a simple but practical idea. They made family home evening wheels: charts with a spinner to keep track of assignments like saying prayers, giving the lesson, and preparing a “sweet.”
The paper wheels were simple but colorful. They were assembled at a Young Women activity at the meetinghouse one night, each one personalized with photos of the family it was made for. Two of the young women, Sushmitha Santhosh Kumar, 15, and her sister Sujeetha, 14, were especially excited when they learned that as new members of the Church, they and their family would receive the first wheel.
“After Mutual we went as a group to their apartment and presented the wheel to their father,” says Daisy Daniel, 16. “The whole family seemed pleased.” The family had already talked about family home evening with the full-time missionaries, and the wheel gave them an added incentive to follow up on what they had learned.
The young women also made enough wheels to give one to each of the families of the Primary children in the branch. Then they made additional wheels for the full-time missionaries to give to new converts.
“Many of us in the branch are new members, and we aren’t used to holding family home evening,” Daisy says. “But I have a testimony that family home evening will help children and parents to pull together, and I hope that whenever these families see the family home evening wheel, they will think, ‘OK, our Church members love us, and they gave us this reminder, so let’s have our family home evening.’” She predicts that soon family home evening will be a weekly event for many people in the branch.

Each spring day, Tasha took her Seeing Eye dog, Goldie, for a walk. Her favorite part of the walk was passing Suzumi’s house.
Suzumi was always out in his yard. “How are you and Goldie today?” he would ask.
“We’re fine,” Tasha always answered. “How is your garden?”
Suzumi told her that he was edging his flower bed, or pruning his bushes, or digging around his trees. One day he said, “The sky is blue and the earth is warm and the snow has melted off Mica Peak. It is time to plant my pumpkins.”
Tasha nodded. She felt a warm breeze blowing against her cheek and smelled the sweet fragrance of apple blossoms—it was pumpkin-planting time.
“Tasha,” Suzumi asked, “would you like to plant a pumpkin?”
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
“The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow I must till the ground to soften the earth so that it is ready to receive the seed. You will hear the sound of my tiller when you walk by tomorrow.”
On the day of the planting, Tasha told Goldie to lie down and wait under the apple tree. Suzumi took Tasha’s hand and led her to the spot he had prepared for the pumpkin seeds.
He placed a pumpkin seed in her left hand. She touched its surface with the third finger of her right hand.
“It is like silk,” she said.
“Bend down,” Suzumi said, “make a little hole with your finger, place the seed in the hole, then gently cover it up.”
As Tasha patted the earth over the seed, the soil felt warm and soft under her hands. She placed a marker by her seed so that she could find it again.
She called Goldie and whispered in her ear, “Suzumi says that our pumpkin will be large and round and that we will be proud to show it to Mother.”
The next day, Suzumi showed Tasha where to stand with the hose to water her pumpkin plant.
A few days later, he guided her hands to feel the soft green shoot that had come up where she had planted the seed.
Another day he taught her how to feel the difference between a weed and her pumpkin plant. He showed her how to pull the weeds and how to hoe around her pumpkin plant.
On one very special day, he put her hand around a tiny pumpkin. Her very own pumpkin was starting to grow!
All summer Suzumi and Tasha hoed, weeded, and watered their pumpkins. Every day Tasha felt her pumpkin and knew that it was growing just as Suzumi had said it would.
Finally it was harvesttime.
“Tomorrow,” Suzumi said, “bring your red wagon when you come. It is time to take your pumpkin home.”
Long before he saw Tasha, Suzumi heard her wagon bump-bump-bumping toward the pumpkin patch.
“Bring it over here,” he called.
Tasha heard a thunk as Suzumi put the large pumpkin into her wagon.
“Your mother will be proud of your pumpkin,” Suzumi told her. “It is entirely your pumpkin. You planted it, weeded it, hoed it, and watered it.”
Tasha clasped her arms around it. Her fingers just touched like they did when she hugged her mother around the waist.
“How does it feel?” Suzumi asked.
Tasha hugged her pumpkin tighter. She laid her cheek against it. “It feels warm and round and good,” she said. “Like love.”

The Coopers are gathered for family scripture time.
Whoa!
What is it, Matt?
Some of the people listening to King Benjamin were kids like me.
How cool would it be to live in those days?!
Yeah. Just being an ordinary kid and sitting there listening to a prophet.
Well, we’re already ordinary.
Yeah, we’re good at that!
And guess what else we’ve got in common. In fact, it’s happening this weekend.
That weekend …
We welcome you to the 190th Semiannual General Conference …

How do you remember to choose the right? Elder L. Tom Perry of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles tells a story about a young boy and his friends who found a package of cigarettes: “They decided to go down on the cliff alongside some large boulders and smoke. … They lit up, and the young man said that as he was looking down at the smoldering cigarette that he held between his fingers, he saw his CTR ring. He quickly put the cigarette out. … He chose to choose the right, as he remembered what the emblem stood for” (“‘Choose the Right,’” Ensign, Nov. 1993, 66).

Christmas dawned on a day as murky as my mood. A dense fog had crept into the Italian city where my husband’s military assignment had taken us. My two daughters were not very excited about the few gifts they had received. Their thoughts, like mine, were with their father, who was in a military hospital in Germany.
“It doesn’t seem like Christmas without Daddy here,” eight-year-old Diana commented. I nodded, thinking about all the seasonal cheer we were missing—decorations, family parties, holiday feasts.
“Well, at least some of us are together,” said 17-year-old Athena quietly.
When my husband called from the hospital in Germany, I talked to him briefly and then handed the phone to Diana. To my surprise, she refused to speak to him, even though she hadn’t seen or talked to him in weeks. Confused by her reaction, I ran the events of the past month through my mind.
Some weeks earlier my husband, Ed, began complaining of pain in his left forearm. In no time it swelled and became stiff. The doctors hospitalized him and gave him antibiotics intravenously. But his hand became useless.
I arranged for our oldest son to stay with his grandmother for Christmas instead of coming home from college. Our three other children tried to help me get ready for Christmas, but the spirit of the season could not penetrate my anxiety.
One night was especially bad. I couldn’t sleep, so at 3:30 A.M. I called the hospital. The nurse said Ed was in such pain he was pacing the floor. Suddenly I knew he needed a priesthood blessing. Since the hour was so early, I hesitated to call our home teacher, Bob DeWitt. But Bob arrived on his own at about 5:00 A.M. He called another priesthood holder and hurried to the hospital. Bob felt prompted to promise Ed he would eventually regain the full use of his hand.
Moments after the blessing, a group of doctors conferred around Ed’s bed. They couldn’t explain what was causing the damage to his arm. Although in pain, Ed commented that it was too bad the X ray couldn’t show more than just the bone in his arm; it would help if they could see the tissue as well. Ed’s words startled the doctors, and they decided to use an ultrasound machine to look at his arm in a manner not commonly used. The procedure was later written up in medical journals.
Using the ultrasound in this new way, they located a large pocket of infection deep within Ed’s forearm. They operated immediately.
“It’s lucky we located the abscess when we did,” the surgeon explained to me later. “Even a few more hours could have cost Ed the use of his arm completely. As it is, I doubt he will ever be able to use his fingers again.”
The doctors transferred Ed to a large hospital in Germany, and I accompanied him while friends took care of our children. Ed’s condition became worse; the bone became infected, and antibiotics were unexplainably ineffective.
Days went by in a blur as Ed underwent multiple surgeries. Ed insisted I fly home to be with the children for Christmas.
So here it was Christmas morning. I held my youngest daughter close, still not sure why she had refused to speak with her father. Finally she hesitantly took the phone, and within seconds, her face was wreathed in a smile.
“I thought Daddy was dying,” she explained later. “He was so sick when he left.”
Holding both daughters tightly, I smiled through my tears. Faintly, through the fog, the tolling of Christmas bells reached us. I reflected on the gift we commemorate each Christmas—our Savior, who redeemed us from eternal death and made eternal families possible. I realized that through the Lord’s Atonement and the ordinances of the temple, we could be together forever.
Ed spent nine months in hospitals—and three long, difficult years passed before he recovered completely. But we never questioned that his priesthood blessing would be fulfilled or that our greatest blessings came through the Lord Jesus Christ.
As I listened to the bells that Christmas morning in Italy, I finally welcomed Christmas into my heart.

Sue Baker, whose home is in La Crescenta, California, is just one of more than 60 BYU students who participate in the Adopt-a-Grandparent program (AAG) sponsored by the Student Community Services office. Coordinating their efforts through a central bureau, the students work with Provo rest homes and private individuals in an effort to battle loneliness in the lives of elderly area residents.

“I felt good about the program when I first heard about it,” said Jan Henrie of Idaho Falls. “One of the greatest things about it is that you bring joy into their lives by visiting with them. But the joy that comes back to you is much more than you would get by doing something for yourself. It helps you see what a great thing service really is, not just for the person you do something for, but for yourself as well.”

The elderly participants are as excited about the once-a-week (minimum) visits as the students are. “For several years, the Y has sent somebody down here who has the time to help me make my deliveries,” said Fred Davis, an “adopted grandfather” who sells shoes. “The other day, Mike (Mike Allred, who’s working with Fred this year) took me over to deliver some in Springville. We sold a couple of pairs, and I got the chance to talk to him. He doesn’t mind helping me. I’m blind in one eye, and I like to have him describe what we’re passing.”

On the days they know visitors are coming, rest home residents sometimes get so eager they line up out in the halls, according to Sheryl Sanders of Boise, Idaho, AAG’s assistant director. “If it hadn’t been for the program,” Helen Strong, one elderly sister, emphasizes, “life would have meant nothing to me. Now, I have a friend. I feel good about having her come.”

Julie Melville, of San Jose, California, directs the Adopt-a-Grandparent service. She explains that students who wish to participate must be willing to donate at least an hour each week for six months to visit their special friend. A screening committee interviews applicants to orient them to the program and explain the commitment necessary to do a good job. Glen Hale, from Murray, Utah, the orientation and training director for the staff, meets with each new volunteer and discusses likes, needs, and tips for getting along with his elderly friend. Then the visits begin, along with a weekly progress report to a supervisor, who can offer help or refer problems to qualified authorities.

“They matched me with Albina Felker,” Jan said. “As I’ve come to visit her every week, I’ve also become acquainted with her roommate, Wanda Roper. Albina is always cheerful, tells me stories about her life, and gives me good advice. She’s 94 but active. She walks outside every day. She tells me about how she’s never smoked or drunk, how she’s done things to keep herself healthy. She also loves to talk about her family.” When Sister Felker isn’t in, Jan will spend a few minutes with Sister Roper. “I’ve worked with young people all my life, and I still enjoy it,” Sister Roper said.

“Some of the people we visit have so much to say, but no one to say it to,” Sue added. “I know it means a lot to my special friend just to be able to talk. I’ve got a great relationship with my grandparents back home, and leaving them was hard. Having someone up here who more or less is ‘family’ means a lot to me. But when I first met my friend I felt I had something to overcome. I talked with her for about 90 minutes, and a couple of days later came back. She couldn’t remember who I was. The next week I went back, and she still didn’t remember me. I finally started calling her every day and talking to her. I wouldn’t tell her who it was; I’d make her guess. Then she started saying, ‘Oh, I’ve been looking forward to your call all day.’

“About three weeks ago she said, ‘Why don’t you give me your phone number so I can call you sometime?’ It was when she actually phoned me that I got excited. She called the other night. My roommate said, ‘I think it’s your grandmother.’ I got on the phone and said, ‘Grandma?’ She said, ‘Yes, it’s me. I’ve got something exciting to share with you,’ and told me that a group of children had just come by with a basket of fruit and a card. That meant a lot to me. I feel like I’ve overcome the problem of her not knowing who I am.” Sue obviously won her heart. She’s the same elderly lady mentioned at the beginning of this story, the one who asked Sue to help her wrap a present and then gave the present to Sue.

Many of the students said they became involved with Adopt-a-Grandparent in about the same way Sharon Pritchett of Atlanta, Georgia, did. “Julie had been praying about finding people who wanted to get involved, and I had been feeling lonely and praying for ways to get to know new people,” Sharon said. The two met on their way to a religion class they had together, and after class Julie invited Sharon to a staff meeting the same day. Soon Sharon was publicity chairman for AAG.

The volunteers also said they felt their leaders had been inspired in matching them with particular elderly participants. “The Lord guides us a lot in what we do,” Julie said. “You wouldn’t believe the backgrounds of these people,” another supervisor added. “One man used to catch broncs by the tail and then train them. Another was born in Czechoslovakia and was a concert pianist. Now he’s paralyzed in one hand, but he still plays. His name is Rudy.” The supervisor also said it’s a goal of the program to place volunteers and participants with similar interests together. One fellow watches football games each Saturday with the gentlemen from a rest home. A young lady is learning how to crochet. Others work on sewing, knitting, and lapidary (making jewelry from rocks) projects with their elderly friends.

Kathleen Koch, of Carbondale, Illinois, often discusses genealogy with Alberta Campbell, her special friend. They spent one day together watching a general conference session, eating lunch, and visiting with Sister Campbell’s friends in other rooms of the convalescent center.

“My friend has been to college. Even more important, she doesn’t want to be treated like a baby,” Karen Critchfield of Los Altos, California, said. “We were both nervous to start with, but now we confide in one another.”

Besides visiting their elderly friends, the students meet on their own at least once a month for a fireside and often have social gatherings. Wendy Ius of Trail, British Columbia, said fireside speakers are usually experts in social work, psychology, or human relations. The meetings help group members feel like a team, sharpen their skill in dealing with others, and provide a time for sharing ideas and experiences. A periodically published newsletter also helps to unite the group.

From time to time special activities are held at the rest home, especially on holidays. “We had a home evening a little while ago,” Karen said, “at which she (Sister Strong) bore her testimony. It was really uplifting. We had my entire home evening group out here, and she spoke about relying on the Lord.”

Linda Barr, of Brunswick, Georgia, said AAG “makes you more concerned because you find out how lonely some people are, what little joy they have, how they feel they’re not worth anything. You want to make them feel better. And it makes you feel better to think you’re important to them.”

“Just because they’re old doesn’t mean they’re not people. They’re up-to-date, not living in the ’20s. The person inside will be the same, now or later on,” Julie said.

And Sharon Wendell, of Bountiful, Utah, added, “They have lots to offer, unless people forget them.” Colette Johnson, of Boise, Idaho, commented, “It’s hard to know if I’ve changed because of the program. It was so great to start out with, how could it get any better?”

Perhaps one of the most poignant stories, however, was related by Peggy Buchanan, of Waynesboro, Virginia, as she described her first visit to the rest home: “I went to visit Edna. She was in bed and kind of sick. I had a picture of a lily mounted on matboard, with a poem on the back. I was going to read the poem and give her the picture. She didn’t respond much, so I decided to talk to her instead. I asked her if she liked flowers. She said yes and started talking a bit. She is a great lady, and she brought out something in me. I told her about my grandmother’s flowers, and she listened while I shared parts of my life with her, which was very rewarding. Then she fell asleep, and I left. Outside the door, a woman in a wheelchair asked me to pick up her blanket and tuck it in. She cuddled up and snuggled back in her chair and was happy. I got to see about five ladies that day and helped them all. As I was leaving, I went down the back hall and asked if I could visit anybody else. I started to go, when someone called out to me and said to please come in. She reached her hand out and said, ‘Please don’t leave. We love you.’”

Peggy said, “I love you, too,” and spent several more minutes chatting with the woman. As she left, Peggy knew “that lady was happy, and that it meant a lot to her to have people visit.” She also knew that despite the pressures of school, dating, and work, she had found friends and would find time to come back often.

Youth today have lots of temptations, like certain trends, some bad types of social media and music, inappropriate language, and alcohol and drugs. My classmates at school don’t have bad intentions, but sometimes they invite me to try these things.
I’ve had to learn to say no. As my classmates have gotten to know me better, they’ve realized I’m not like everyone else. I have earned their respect by showing them I can be a normal teenager without having bad language or behavior.

Hi! My name is Juan Bautista, and I’m from Argentina. I shine my light by sharing the gospel.
My best friend Facundo and I have known each other since we were five. We both love football! I invited him to a lot of Church activities.
Once when Facundo was having dinner with us, he asked, “Why does your family always pray?” I said it’s because Heavenly Father blesses us, and this is how we thank Him. He was amazed!
Facundo came to a family home evening when my brother Benjamin was getting ready for baptism. Facundo felt the Spirit, and he asked if he could get baptized too! My father talked to Facundo’s parents about it.
The missionaries taught Facundo’s family. Then Facundo and his sister Augustine both got baptized!
Facundo asked my mom if he would ever know as much as I do about God. She smiled and said that if he studies his scriptures and prays, he could learn even more!

“You’ll go up with Fritz,” the gliding club commander says. He looks me in the eye. “You nervous?”
“Nah.” A little white lie for bravado.
I am still in college at the time. Well, actually I’m working the summer before my senior year as an intern on an Alberta daily newspaper. On Friday a call comes into the editorial offices looking for someone to give the gliding club a little publicity. I volunteer.
Fritz arrives. He is dressed simply, in a golf shirt and slacks. I had expected a dirty leather jacket and goggles.
He raises a finger, checking for wind. “Get in,” he says to me. We strap ourselves into the glider’s belly. The clouds are gray and thick above us. Fritz looks at them with stern concentration. He seems to want to chase the clouds from the sky.
The gliding club doesn’t have a tow plane, just a winch with a long cable that catapults us upward. Suddenly we are being pulled with frightening velocity into the sky. In seconds we are two, then three thousand feet above the wheat fields. The cable breaks loose and there is nothing holding us up except balsa wood and fiberglass. I’m holding my breath. My fingers are white from gripping my seat.
I release my fingers and breathe deeply. The sound of the wind rushes by, the creak of the rudder as we turn. “Relax,” says Fritz. He’s looking for lift in the warming day.
I can’t see my pilot, but I know he’s there. I feel him controlling the plane. Mustering my bravest voice I ask, “How do you find the thermals?” Thermals are warm air currents that rise, allowing birds and gliders to gain altitude.
“You just know where they are,” he says from behind me. “I’ve done this a million times.”
We’re circling. I watch the horizon, perpetually tilted. Then a bump. “Ha,” says Fritz, “watch this.” The warm air lifts us, we circle faster, in a tighter loop. The ground passes by, round and round. The lift comes from nowhere. We are alone, soaring on air, climbing higher, circling faster.
From my seat I get an ever increasing view of the world. I forget my nerves. My pilot has given me a rare thrill, to be lifted on nothing more than air currents, to new heights.
The tilting earth levels, and Fritz and I prepare to land. Green, brown, asphalt gray rush below as we descend. Above, the clouds have parted. There is only blue sky where we have been.