Gospel Story Finder

Wilford Woodruff was born in Farmington, Hartford County, Connecticut, 1 March 1807. He learned the trade of a miller. He worked as a miller in a number of communities in his native state. He first learned of Joseph Smith through a newspaper article in the spring of 1832. He was twenty-five. Some nineteen or twenty months later he met Elders Zera Pulsipher and Elijah Cheney in Rushland, New York, where he had moved and was farming. On 31 December 1833 he was baptized by Zera Pulsipher. Four months later he first met Joseph Smith in the streets of Kirtland, Ohio. I would like to read to you about his first meeting with the Prophet Joseph Smith. He recorded,
Before I saw Joseph I said I did not care how old he was, or how young he was; I did not care how he looked—whether his hair was long or short; the man that advanced that revelation was a prophet of God. I knew it for myself. I first met Joseph Smith in the streets of Kirtland. He had on an old hat, and a pistol in his hand. Said he, “Brother Woodruff, I’ve been out shooting at a mark, and I wanted to see if I could hit anything.” And, said he, “Have you any objection to it?”
“Not at all,” said I. “There is no law against a man shooting at a mark, that I know of.”
He invited me to his house. He had a wolf skin, which he wanted me to help him to tan; he wanted it to sit on while driving his wagon team. Now, many might have said, “You are a pretty prophet; shooting a pistol and tanning a wolf skin.” Well, we tanned it, and used it while making a journey of a thousand miles. This was my first acquaintance with the Prophet Joseph. And from that day until the present, with all the apostasies that we have had, and with all the difficulties and afflictions we have been called to pass through, I never saw a moment when I had any doubt with regard to this work.

Jean would always remember the night when she really learned that her Heavenly Father hears and answers sincere prayers, even when uttered by a weary 17-year-old in the backwoods of southern Georgia.
At graduation time, Jean learned that her trials had only begun. Mother remarried and moved far away. Jean had no choice. She had to go live with our father in rural Georgia. He lived in a tiny, isolated town where he was the minister of the only church.
Our father had always been bitter toward the Mormons, and that bitterness had turned to hatred when all three of his daughters had been baptized. Jean was his baby, his special pet, and it cut him to the quick to see her not only in a religion different from his but as a Mormon and a devout Mormon at that. He looked upon her move to his house as an answer to prayers. Now things would be different. Now he would be able to show her the error of her ways.
Although I live more than 200 miles away, I came as often as possible during the summer and took Jean to my home in Columbia. However, the summer soon ended, and Jean had to start commuting to college. Jean had a car to make the drive back and forth to school but not for her personal use on weekends. The nearest branch was 30 miles away, and even if she could get there, Dad wouldn’t let her go. There wasn’t an institute at her small college, and it just seemed that there was no way for her to have any contact with Church members.
Days turned into weeks, and then months had gone by since she had attended a meeting. She read her scriptures, wrote daily in her journal, and spent hours on her knees. As she grew closer to her Heavenly Father through earnest prayer, Jean’s testimony of the gospel grew. She began to realize how often she had taken the opportunity to attend meetings and functions of the Church for granted, how she had even wished meetings would hurry and be over. During this time, Dad made every effort to break her testimony. He quoted scripture after scripture, but Jean’s seminary scriptures stood her in good stead. She was able to parry with scriptures of her own. Sometimes he threw things at her that she couldn’t or, to stop an argument, wouldn’t defend. While her testimony wasn’t harmed, it did make Jean weary as she faced each day on the defensive, knowing that everything she loved and considered holy would be denounced in her father’s booming voice at mealtimes, in discussions with her stepmother, or in his verbal prayers.
Some nights only hours on bended knees kept her from total despair. She fought back the desire to rage against her Heavenly Father for deserting her. Soon even the scriptures she loved were difficult to read because they produced such a terrible longing for her old friends, teachers, and bishop. Often she lay in bed at night with tears streaming down her face trying to remember that she wasn’t the only Latter-day Saint in the world. She tried to be strong, but she was young and alone and there had been no contact with members for so long.
One night in January, Jean reached rock bottom. Her father and stepmother had baited her and prayed aloud for her soul until she was ready to scream. No one understood the trials she was going through. Her sisters sympathized, but we were too far away to be any help. Finally Jean knelt by her bed and poured her heart out as she had so many times in the past. She told her Heavenly Father that she knew he loved her and that he had promised no burden heavier than she could bear. She begged for some sort of help because the burden had grown so heavy that she could not bear it any longer.
When Jean left Natchez, her records had been sent to the nearest branch. Once the records were received, she was assigned home teachers. However, as no one had ever met Jean and she lived so far away and had never attended a meeting, the home teachers didn’t visit her. In their minds, she was probably someone who had joined the Church at age eight but had never been active. Someone in the branch had heard that a Mr. Swilley in Egypt, Georgia, was the Baptist preacher there, and this Jean was probably his wife. No way were they going to drive all that way to get a door slammed in their faces!
In a small branch, the work load is heavy for each member. The home teacher lived 15 miles on the other side of the town where the branch was located, a total of 45 miles one way on country roads from Jean. Months went by, and each month his home teaching report was complete except for Sister Swilley. Being a good and conscientious man, this bothered him. He decided to go at least once just to see what sort of circumstances she was in.
The night came when he couldn’t rest until he had made the effort to see this sister. He called his companion, a young boy of 16, and they began the long drive. As they drove farther into the countryside, they began to be uneasy and wished they could turn around and go home. Yet something urged them on. Little did they know that at that moment, Jean Swilley was on her knees begging her Father in Heaven to throw her a lifeline. As her prayer ended and she dried her tears, Dad knocked on her bedroom door. “Jeanie, there are two men outside, and they are asking for you. They are Mormons, and I won’t ask them in, but you can go talk to them on the porch.”
Jean flew through the house and onto the porch. She stood on the steps, and tears fell again as the older of the two men stretched out his hand and said, “We are your home teachers …” He didn’t have to say anything else because Jean fell into his arms and cried out all the pain and loneliness that was there. Finally someone had come. God had indeed heard her prayers.
As Jean told her story to these wonderful men, I know that their hearts were touched. They expressed sorrow for not having come sooner and promised to make the branch president aware of her situation. They prayed with Jean and told her to call them when it got too hard and left with the most beautiful words Jean had ever heard, “You aren’t alone anymore.”
Jean is still not allowed to go to church, but her spirit is so much stronger now that she knows her Father in Heaven is aware of her needs and answers her prayers. Dad said the home teachers could keep coming as long as they had a talk with him first. When Jean explained the situation to the home teachers, they told her that they would talk with him and do it gladly.
Jean’s home teachers had every excuse in the world not to visit her. It was inconvenient—one and a half hours just in driving time. She had expressed no interest in seeing them. They did not think she would welcome them, and they were busy with other church responsibilities. Still, they obeyed the promptings of the Holy Spirit.
Those home teachers will never know just how happy they made my sister nor will they know how thankful they made me for a Heavenly Father that heard my sister’s prayers. How can they know what will come of their talk with my dad? Or that Mother, who had drifted so far away that she denied the Church on every opportunity, would cry when told that her baby girl wasn’t quite so wretched anymore and why. How could they have known that Mother would say through her tears, “I knew He would take care of her and hear her prayers.” I know that more good will come because those two men listened and obeyed. I hope that I will learn to listen and obey. I hope we all will.

Oliver couldn’t wait for the week to go by. Next week was the big day he had been waiting for since he was four. He was going to be baptized.
Oliver was so excited about his baptism that he wanted to shout it from the rooftops for all of England to hear! He couldn’t wait to tell his friend Dylan at school.
“I can’t believe it. My baptism day is finally almost here,” Oliver said. “It’s going to be brilliant!”
“I thought only babies got baptized.” Dylan looked confused.
“Kids have to be at least eight to be baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Oliver said. “That’s my Church.”
“Cool,” Dylan said.
Suddenly Oliver had a thought. “Would you like to come to my baptism?”
“Sure,” Dylan said. “But I need to ask my parents first.”
“OK!”
Oliver was excited that Dylan might come to his baptism. This gave him another idea. “I don’t want to share my baptism with just one friend. I want to invite as many people as I can!” Oliver rushed home and told Mum he had a plan.
On the fast Sunday before his baptism, Oliver started his plan. He shared his testimony at the pulpit; then he said, “I’m getting baptized next Saturday, and I want everyone to come! Will you please invite anyone you know who isn’t a member, or who doesn’t come to church, to my baptism?” He felt like a missionary. He really liked that feeling!
Over the next week, Oliver invited friends, family members, and teachers to his baptism.
“It would mean a lot to me if you could come!” he told them.
As Saturday got closer, Oliver started to wonder how many people would actually show up. What if they were all too busy or didn’t want to come?
He said a short prayer that at least a few people he invited would come. Then he stopped worrying about who might show up. He knew he had done a good thing just by inviting them. Besides, the most important thing about the day was getting baptized.
When he got to church on his baptism day, Oliver could hardly believe his eyes. A lot of his friends were there to support him. He even saw a bunch of people he didn’t know. He waved when Dylan walked in with his parents.
When it was time to be baptized, Oliver stepped into the warm water. His dad took his hand, as they had practiced. Then he said the short baptism prayer and lowered Oliver into the water. Before he knew it, Oliver was standing up again—dripping wet and grinning. He knew he was following Jesus’s example.
After Oliver changed into dry clothes, his dad and a few other men confirmed him a member of the Church and gave him a special blessing, where they invited him to receive the Holy Ghost. Afterward, Oliver asked if he could share his testimony.
“Thank you so much for coming to support me on my special day. It means so much to me,” Oliver said. “I’m grateful for my baptism, and I believe this is Christ’s Church on the earth.”
Afterward, people came up to congratulate Oliver.
“Thanks for inviting me!” Dylan said. “I had a good feeling inside.”
“Everyone has been so kind!” Dylan’s mum said. “We have felt very welcomed.”
That night, Dad sat down on the end of Oliver’s bed. “What a great day!” Dad said.
Oliver nodded. “I’m glad I could share it with my friends.”

I remember other Mexican Saints who, because floods had destroyed their crops, were fearful that they would not be able to attend the conference but who, after fasting and prayer, sold some of their belongings and pooled their money for transportation. For many there was no money left for food, but it did not matter. They decided they could fast for the three or four days of the conference. As you would expect, other loving Saints filled their plates as the Lord had filled their souls.

Let me give you one example from my own life.

Since I was very young I wanted to be a physician. My uncle Ted was a physician, and he was my role model during my formative years. He treated me when I was sick as a child, and, as I got older, he was both a mentor and a friend. Not only was he a successful doctor, he also served in the Church, serving twice as a bishop. I admired everything about him, and I felt that I would like to pattern my life after his.

As I got older, I kept this goal and enrolled in college courses that would lead to medical school. After my freshman year I left for my mission to Japan and returned in the fall of 1972. Three months later Mary and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple, and a year later our first child was born. As we prayed, both Mary and I felt the desire and prompting to have children, and our second child, little Rebecca, was born in October 1975. Over the years we were blessed with six other children.

During the months preceding the birth of Becky, I had a constant feeling that the Lord was leading us in a direction that did not include medical school. I was confused and a little stubborn in holding on to my childhood desire of becoming a doctor. The J. Reuben Clark Law School had recently opened at BYU, and I felt a continuing impression—and growing desire—that this was where I belonged and where the Lord would have me continue my education.

I had a wonderful stake president who had been a prominent lawyer in Salt Lake and had given it all up to accept the position of secretary to the First Presidency. I went to visit him and told him of both my confusion and the feelings that I was having.

Rather than telling me the answer I was looking for, he said something that I have never forgotten. He said, “David, you know section 9 of the Doctrine and Covenants as well as I do. Go home to your wife, Mary. Study it out in your minds together and come to a decision that you can take to the Lord. Then pray and ask God if what you have decided is right. He will answer you.”

He then said, “This revelation does not need to take months and months of agonizing. Rather, it takes the desire to find out what the Lord would have you do and the determination to do it.”

Two weeks later I was back with my stake president. I told him that both Mary and I were settled and that we would be applying to law school instead of medical school. Once we knew what the Lord would have us do, we were absolutely determined to follow that course. After I told him of our experience, he told me that he had received that same witness when we had met two weeks earlier, but it was important for me to receive the witness rather than for him to just tell me what I should do.

For me it was the right answer. That same path may not be right for others. The way to know is through personal revelation. If you care enough to go through the process of seeking God’s will, God will care enough to answer.

When our daughter Erin was in junior high, a hugely popular movie swept the country. It went on to win several major awards, and everyone was talking about it - including my daughter’s friends. Of course, Erin wanted to see the movie and begged to be allowed. I was aware of some inappropriate content and didn’t think it was a good idea. While struggling with this issue, I felt inspired to leave the decision to her. This was NOT something I was used to as a parent. She was our oldest, and so far, things had gone pretty well with the parents making all of the decisions!
We sat down at the computer together and read several reviews which described what kind of violence, sexuality, nudity, and profanity the movie contained. At first, she was defensive because she thought I was simply trying to pile on facts in order to further my side of the argument, but then I told her it would be her decision. She was as shocked as she was elated.
A few days later, she came to me and said, “Dad, I wish you had just told me ‘yes’ or ‘no’ about the movie. Now that it is my decision, it’s a lot harder.”
To her credit, Erin eventually decided not to see the movie. We both learned valuable lessons from this experience. I learned just why agency is so important to our Heavenly Father’s plan. My daughter learned that once we take responsibility for our choices, everything is different. Once we realize that we are “agents that act and not objects to be acted upon,” the game changes.2 Taking responsibility for our choices is a monumental step in spiritual maturity.

“Mom, I shouldn’t have to do all of these dishes!” Roxanne complained. “David didn’t do them last night, and now I have to do his dishes too. Can’t he help me?”
“David is helping me with something else right now,” Mom said.
“But it’s not fair!” Roxanne said loudly.
“Please speak nicely,” Mom said.
Just then, David poked his head around the corner, laughing and making faces. “Yeah,” he whispered so Mom couldn’t hear. “Speak nicely!”
Roxanne put her hand under the running faucet and threw a handful of water at David.
“Roxanne!” Mom exclaimed.
Roxanne tried to explain, but Mom sent her to her room. Roxanne lay on her bed until Mom came in to talk.
“Roxanne, how do you feel right now?”
“Angry.”
“Would you rather feel happy?” Mom asked.
“Well, yes,” Roxanne said.
“I know I asked you to do more dishes than normal, and that’s hard,” Mom said. “And I know it isn’t always easy to get along with your brother. But don’t forget that you’re always in charge of your feelings.”
Roxanne thought. Even though she would rather feel happy, it wasn’t easy to let go of her anger.
“It’s hard to change how I feel,” Roxanne said.
“I understand,” Mom agreed. “I was feeling upset because we have visitors coming tomorrow, and I’m worried that we won’t be ready. But then I remembered that I would rather be happy, so I said a prayer and chose to feel good instead.”
Mom gave Roxanne a quick hug. “I need your help tonight,” she said. “When you feel better, I hope you will join me in the kitchen.”
Roxanne did want to help Mom. She knelt down by her bed. At first she didn’t feel like praying. Then she started telling Heavenly Father how she felt and asked Him to help her be happy again. She remembered how tired Mom looked and decided to pray for her too.
After her prayer, Roxanne felt calm enough to go back into the kitchen. As she walked in, Mom smiled and handed her a sponge.
Roxanne eyed the stacks of dishes in both sinks and on the counter. She sighed, then she started washing, one dish at a time. Soon, the chore didn’t seem so bad. And before the first sink was empty, she was even humming a little.

For the youth of the Allen Second Ward, located just north of Dallas in Texas, the most significant event of the year isn’t youth conference, camp, or high adventure activities. It’s a two-day mission experience in which the priests and Laurels are paired up with full-time missionaries.
The youth were challenged to set appointments with nonmember friends, and other members helped with referrals. After an MTC-type training experience in the chapel, the youth helped teach discussions, tracted, ate dinner with member families, and had a testimony meeting.
“It was awesome!” said Josh Hopewell. “We got a couple doors slammed in our faces, but that’s part of the job. It comes with the territory.”
Said recent convert Jason Mckenty, “I know this church is true. It’s just the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I learned so much in two days!”
Jeni Smith summed up most people’s feelings when she said, “I’m really glad I came. I think the missionaries do such a great job. You may be hot and sweaty, but when you get in that first house and leave them with a copy of the Book of Mormon it’s worth it. I’m really thankful to have been part of it. I’m so thankful for Jesus and what he has done for each of us. I love this church a lot.”
Now the younger kids in the ward can’t wait to be priests and Laurels, and the priests and Laurels can’t wait to serve missions of their own.

Rhoda Byrne Jared was born in Putnam, Tennessee, in 1820. Her father died when she was seven years old, and, being the eldest of seven siblings, she learned early how to perform many household duties done mostly by adults. She grew up three miles from a neighbor boy named Adolphia Young and married him at the young age of 16. Together they had eight children.

In the spring of 1842, her husband's distant cousin brought the message of the gospel to them. In a life history written by her daughter, it stated, "They were amazed to hear the message of the restoration and it rang true to them. They embraced the newly restored church with all their hearts."

Since Rhoda and her family accepted the invitation to be baptized, they now had a great desire to join the Saints in Nauvoo. With heavy hearts, they left behind their parents, families, and close friends, since they were the only ones that had accepted the gospel.

The years that followed came with many heartaches and trials but also many miracles.

Arriving in Nauvoo at the very peak of great persecution, and after two years of living and laboring among the Saints, they were among those who first heard the devastating news of the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum.

Rhoda's husband worked among those laboring desperately to finish the Nauvoo Temple. In three months' time, from December of 1845 to February of 1846, they were among the 5,615 Saints that received the ordinance of the endowment in this temple.

While living in Nauvoo, Rhoda wrote a letter to her mother, which gives great insight of where she found strength to endure. She wrote, "Nauvoo is a city of Saints gathered from all parts of the world, as the old Prophet said, 'Two of a family and one of a city,' to do the commandments of God; even to build a house to His name. With a few exceptions, I believe they are the best people in the world. All is peace and quietness. The people are industrious, virtuous, and temperate, but now are the words of Paul verified, 'They that live Godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.' But in the midst of our afflictions, our hearts are made to rejoice, for we put our trust in that God who is able to light up a smile in the aspect of woe. His favor is richer than the finest gold, and His wisdom transcendeth all human understanding. His plans are founded in wisdom. He will perform His work and accomplish His purpose. Man cannot prevent it."

After being forced by the mobs from their home in 1846, the family arrived in Council Bluffs, Iowa. One year later, Rhoda experienced the first of her life's deepest sorrows when their 18-month-old baby boy died from ague, or later known as malaria. Many of their family members were also very ill, and it became clear they would not be able to start the journey west. As a family, they decided to give their oxen team, wagon, and supplies to another family who were healthy enough to make the trek west. This humble sacrifice meant that the family would have to start working all over again to obtain the necessary supplies.

It took four more years to raise the funds necessary to make the trek west, in which time they returned to Tennessee to work and sell their share of the family estate. While living with Rhoda's parents, their 10-year-old daughter passed away after a one-day illness. This was the second child to be buried and left behind since they were still determined to make their way to Zion.

The family boarded a steamboat in St. Louis, Missouri, called the Saluda, carrying many Mormon immigrants bound for Iowa. Along the route, a narrow channel with very strong currents made it difficult for boats to make a sharp turn in the river. After two days of no progress, the frustrated captain ordered an increase in steam pressure, which caused the boilers to explode. Approximately 100 people were killed, but, miraculously, none of Rhoda's family were harmed. All of their possessions were destroyed except for the money that Adolphia had in his pocket, but because of their faith and determination, they eventually joined the Saints in Winter Quarters and joined the Captain Tidwell wagon train.

One hundred miles into Nebraska, cholera struck their camp, and Rhoda's husband passed away on July 5, 1852, and 3 days later, and 50 miles further west, their 8-year-old son also died. This faithful wife and mother buried both husband and son along the trail west without a coffin or marked grave and only a blanket to wrap them in.

At this point, brothers and sisters, I feel it would have been understandable for Rhoda to pick up her remaining five children and return to her family in Tennessee for the much-needed comfort and support. She now had the task of raising her children without a companion, without extended-family support, and without the means to provide for them once they reached Salt Lake Valley. What would you do if you were Rhoda? Would you continue on to Zion? Would you have enough faith in the Lord to stay on the path?

At this seemingly impossible time, Rhoda decided her children needed a family motto to live by and to sustain them. After praying for guidance, the family decided on the motto "Hope on, Hope ever." The family continued with the wagon company and arrived in the Great Salt Lake in September of 1852.

I don’t suppose I will ever forget that dream. I had just turned five and was in my first year of school. I went to a private school in Yorkshire, England, where each day was filled with first attempts at reading and writing, punctuated with stories from the Bible.
Perhaps we had just heard the story of Jesus blessing the little children; I can’t remember. But one night I dreamt about my Heavenly Father. I remember seeing him sitting on a beautiful chair, wearing a glowing white robe. As I ran toward him, he smiled at me and took me into his arms.
At school the very next morning we again had a lesson on religion. The teacher walked up and down the aisles repeating a creed he said we should memorize. One sentence stuck in my mind. It said that God is a spirit. I wanted to raise my hand and tell everyone it wasn’t true. I had felt his arms around me the night before.
After 11 years of school I enrolled in a two-year technical college. I was 16, active in a singing group, and had lots of friends, but somehow I could never fit in. I wouldn’t smoke or drink with my friends, and their language upset me. I didn’t like to hear what they did late at night after their dates. They were my friends, but as I looked at them, I couldn’t help thinking, “What’s wrong? Why is the world this way?”
As if responding, my friends would ask me, “Why don’t you start living? It’s human nature to do what we do.” I told them the person in my dream could not have meant human nature to be that way. Their response was usually the same: “You’re crazy, Anna! You belong to another world!”
Often I prayed to my Heavenly Father, asking him to help me find people who thought as I thought or, as my friends put it, who were of “my world.”
Turning on the television one afternoon as a break from my studies, I saw a group of boys singing. I’m a serious-minded person and have never had a pop music “idol,” but something about these boys made me stay and listen. They were dressed in white, and as they sang, “Is the answer up above?” my heart responded, “Yes!” I learned they were the Osmonds and that they were Mormons. I decided to read some books about the Mormons, but I couldn’t find any.
One afternoon as I was upstairs studying, I heard a knock at the door. My mother answered it, and I could hear her talking to two young men. As I went downstairs, I heard mother try to give them some excuse and turn them away, but I said I wanted to talk with them. She let them in, closed the door, and went back to her work. The missionaries gave me the first discussion that very afternoon, and I began to get the same feeling I had experienced as a little girl as I ran into the arms of my Heavenly Father.
A week later they came to give me the second lesson, but my mother met them and told them they were not to come again. She told me later the missionaries were only after my money. That night I heard my parents arguing about the Church, and I decided I would not see the missionaries again.
Just before I turned 18 I finished school and decided to go visit one of my friends. She had married my uncle, and they had moved from England to Switzerland. The week I arrived in Switzerland, two Mormon missionaries knocked on their door.
I eagerly asked them to teach me and decided to be baptized after only three visits. Two weeks after my 18th birthday I was baptized. I had found my people, my world, and was in the arms of my Heavenly Father again.

Now I would like to conclude with one other little experience. I was down in Toquepala, Peru. We were dedicating a chapel. Many of the men who were employed in that mining town were Americans. After the dedication they had a dinner at one of the homes. As we moved around in the home, a young boy came to me and said, “Brother Kimball, I’m thinking about a mission. Would you give me a blessing?”
I said, “Why, of course. I’d be very happy to give you a blessing, but isn’t that your father I met in the other room?”
He said, “Yes, that’s Dad.”
I said, “Well, why don’t you ask him to give you your blessing?”
“Oh,” he said, “Dad wouldn’t want to give a blessing to me.”
So I excused myself. In time I ran into the father, and I said, “You have a wonderful boy there. I think he would like to have a blessing from his father. Wouldn’t you like to give him a blessing?”
He said, “Oh, I don’t think my boy would want me to give him a blessing.”
But as I mingled among these people and saw the father and the son a little later, close together, I could understand that they had come together in their thoughts and that the boy was proud to have his father bless him, and the father was delighted to be asked.
I hope you boys in this audience will keep that in mind. You have the best dad in the world, you know. He holds the priesthood; he would be delighted to give you a blessing. He would like you to indicate it, and we would like you fathers to remember that your boys are a little timid maybe. They know you are the best men in the world, but probably if you just made the advance, there would be some glorious moments for you.
Brethren, it is wonderful to be with you here tonight. And may peace be with you, and as has been said so many times in these days, only righteousness pays dividends. God bless you, and I bear my testimony to you boys, to you men, that God lives and that Jesus is the Christ. It is a great program of salvation and exaltation, and it is the only way, and there never was found happiness in unrighteousness. I bear my testimony to you in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Janet: While we dislike thinking of ourselves as stones, there are moments in our lives when we feel our hearts growing cold and hard. Usually this happens when we feel we have been unfairly treated or misunderstood. And it is at these times that we need to rely on the miracle of prayer to heal our broken hearts or our angry, ailing spirits. Let me illustrate with a personal example.

Several years ago, as a Young Women president, I took a group of girls to stake camp. On our first night there, without my knowledge, a few of my girls played a harmless prank on some campers from another ward. In the morning, when the girls confessed to the stake camp director—someone new in the stake whom I had never met—they were dealt a harsh punishment. One of the girls was taken out of our cabin for the entire week, and others were given additional cleanup duties.

But the director did not stop there. She then turned to me and suggested that if we could not comply with the rules we should be sent home. I had to swallow a great deal of pride, and I found myself biting my tongue at various times throughout that week, particularly since the camp seemed to be run far more like a military boot camp than a young women’s outing. But I tried to be positive for the sake of my girls. In fact, together we started looking for the good in that year’s camp, such as the fact that every activity was organized the best it had ever been.

On the last night of camp, we gathered in an amphitheater around a fire for a testimony meeting. True to the order of camp that year, we marched in single file, ward by ward. I was with our Laurel group, and we were one of the last to enter. When I finally sat down, there was only one small space left, and it was next to me. On this we piled our jackets. But, just as we were ready to begin, the camp director—or the “gestapo lady,” as the girls called her—walked in. I could feel my girls cringe as her eyes searched for a place to sit. Slowly I lifted our jackets and motioned to her, trying hard not to look at the disapproving faces of my girls.

I knew all too well that this testimony meeting was supposed to be the spiritual culmination of the entire week. The spirit at this meeting could change lives for the better and often did. And now I could feel my own resentment and that of my girls toward this woman crowding out the Spirit. How I needed my heart to be softened. And so I began to pray fervently for help in understanding her and to let me know of her goodness. I prayed off and on for thirty minutes or so. And then, as we were singing “I Am a Child of God,” a miracle happened. Suddenly I knew her spirit. I understood and knew of her love for her Father in Heaven and of his love for her.

That testimony meeting was one I will never forget, and when it was over I took a moment to tell the camp director all the good things I had experienced at camp that week. I was not, however, prepared for her reaction. There were tears in her eyes as she said, “Thank you so much. No one else has thanked me. I have been afraid that no one liked me because I have been so strict. But I am a convert and have never run a camp before. I have just tried to do my best.” And then she hugged me.

Had a miracle just occurred? I think so. My heart had been softened just as night turns to day.

Margaret Lenan Ellis was volunteering as a public affairs specialist when she was tasked with searching out and joining her local community interfaith organisation. With no such organisation in Ballarat, Victoria, she founded the Ballarat Interfaith Network. Its purpose is to demonstrate our connection as part of the human family, expanding understanding and building bridges between faiths, philosophies, and spiritual perspectives. Over the past 20 years, the network’s events have built friendships, respect, peace, love, and service to God and others.

I usually take one of the local freeways to work. It’s the quickest and easiest way to get there. I try to leave early enough in the morning to miss the heavy traffic, when things slow down and accidents can happen.
One morning, however, I got out of the house later than usual and ended up in congested traffic. As I merged onto the freeway, I thought about my scripture study that morning. I had had the impression that I focus too much on worldly things and not enough on spiritual things. As I drove to work, I thought about how I could be more attentive to spiritual things throughout the day.
Then I noticed a message on one of the large electronic signs over the freeway that alert drivers of accidents or road conditions. As I got closer, I read, “Crash ahead at Mesa Drive—center lane blocked.” I didn’t want to be inconvenienced by having to get off the freeway, so I wondered how long I could stay on the freeway before I had to exit.
Then another thought came to my mind: If I ignored the sign, could I be putting myself in a situation that would be dangerous? Was I ignoring a warning just because I didn’t want my schedule disrupted? Clearly, I was inclined to ignore warnings of my physical safety; how often I had pushed aside promptings for my spiritual safety?
As I pondered about how to be more attentive to the Spirit, I realized that Heavenly Father probably sends me many messages throughout the day. I wondered how many times I had missed His messages because I wasn’t listening for spiritual promptings. I committed to do better.
I checked the traffic, changed lanes, and took the next exit. By using the city roads to get to work, I was able to avoid all the hazards and dangers of staying on the freeway as the accident was cleaned up.
I know that the Lord loves me enough to send me His messages. I simply need to be in tune with the spiritual promptings He sends me.

It had been a long week. I walked into the fireside broadcast late, struggling to filter out thoughts of exams, assignments, work, and friends. I hoped that somehow the words of the prophet could pierce through all these concerns and sink into my heart.
Oh, how I hoped and silently prayed for help to focus on the words of the prophet. And my prayer was answered. I walked into the fireside with my view clouded and troubled. When I left, I had a refreshed outlook on life and some plain, simple truths—a recipe for happiness.
Be grateful, be smart, be clean, be true, be humble, and be prayerful. How simple these statements are. How great a difference they can make in my life!
I know this gospel contains truth that is lacking elsewhere. I know that the prophet loves me. I am grateful that our Heavenly Father and the Savior love us enough to give us specific, individual guidance in our lives through prayer and through the words of our prophet. These things are plain, simple, and true.
Lisa Ware, age 19,Rochedale Ward, Eight Mile Plains Australia Stake

Prophet loved music. He especially loved Primary songs and Church hymns. He hummed the tunes all day long. He imagined himself sitting at a piano, playing his favorite songs. He also imagined himself teaching other people how to play.
There was just one problem. He didn’t have a piano.
One day Prophet had an interview with his bishop.
“Have you set any goals for the Children and Youth program?” the bishop asked.
“Yes,” Prophet said. “I want to learn to play the piano.”
“That is a good goal,” the bishop said.
“And when I reach that goal,” Prophet said, “then I have another goal. I want to teach 20 other people how to play.”
“You have two good goals,” the bishop said.
“And I have a problem,” Prophet said. “I don’t have a piano.”
“Well, let us see what we can do.”
At church the next Sunday, the bishop told Prophet that he had found a missionary couple who could teach him. They would bring piano keyboards for him and others to practice on. They wanted to teach lots of people how to play the piano.
The bishop talked to people. Prophet talked to people. Prophet’s family talked to people. Soon the whole ward was talking about piano lessons. So were others.
“Many of my friends who are not members also want to learn,” Prophet told the bishop.
“They are welcome, of course,” the bishop said. “The missionaries will give you a book and help you learn the lessons. And after you learn, you can help them teach everyone else.”
“That is my second goal!” Prophet said.
Soon Prophet was practicing with the missionaries. He loved learning what each of the notes meant and hearing them come together to make a song. Two of his friends from church, Kelvin and Alexander, were also learning. After a month, all three boys started teaching too.
Every day, the boys taught keyboard classes at the Church building. At first there were about 10 students, then 20, then 50!
“This is fun!” Kelvin said one day when class was over.
“I think Heavenly Father is happy because we are helping others to learn,” Alexander said.
Prophet nodded. His goal was already helping so many people.
But there was something else that made Prophet happy. As the other students practiced the Primary songs, they were also learning about Heavenly Father. Some of them asked Prophet if they could learn more about the Church.
And in fact, some of the people who first learned about the Church because of piano lessons ended up getting baptized.
“Now in meetings,” Prophet says, “we all join together and sing the songs we love.”
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Brandon (16), Jake (15), Melissa (12), and Grace (9) moved to Uruguay for three years when their parents were called as leaders of the Uruguay Montevideo Mission. December was hot and humid in Uruguay, nothing like the cold, snowy Christmases they were used to. Even though being away from home and family for three Christmases was hard, they found happiness as they served people around them. Each Christmas season, the family and the missionaries would wear red “Light the World” shirts as they served around the country.
“We went to the parks and beaches in Montevideo with the missionaries and cleaned up trash and debris from the summer storms,” says Jake. Brandon remembers, “The first Christmas we were in Uruguay, we taped candies to ‘Light the World’ pass-along cards to hand out. At sunset, lots of people would gather along the beach, so it was the perfect spot to give them candy and a card, even though we didn’t speak much Spanish.”
Photograph by Julie Olsen
For these siblings, serving made them feel at home and helped them focus on the Savior and the true meaning of Christmas.
Jake says, “Doing service for Light the World helped Christmas feel special. Even though we were used to having a white Christmas, serving made the warm Uruguayan summer feel like Christmas.” Melissa agrees. “Doing service took my mind off of what I was missing at home,” she says. “Making others happy made us happy and helped us feel more at home.”

Gabriel loved learning about Jesus. He loved hearing stories from the scriptures. His family read the scriptures together every night.
One rainy night they snuggled together in their home. Papa said a prayer. Then Mama read stories from the Book of Mormon. Gabriel tried to listen very carefully. Mama read about Jesus talking to children.
“Mama, the children were with Jesus?” Gabriel asked.
“That’s right,” she said. “And He blessed each of them and prayed for them.”
Gabriel felt a new feeling inside. He did not know what it was. He felt warm even though it was chilly outside. He smiled big.
Gabriel wanted to share this special feeling. “I feel so happy and warm!” he said.
“That special feeling is the Holy Ghost,” Papa told him. “He gives you a warm feeling to help you know that the scriptures are true.”
Mama smiled and hugged Gabriel. “That feeling tells you that Jesus loves you.”
“Jesus blesses me,” Gabriel said. “Just like the children in the Book of Mormon! He sent the Holy Ghost to me!”
He couldn’t stop smiling. “I know the scriptures are true,” he said. “The Holy Ghost told me!”

My great-great-great grandmother is Mary Wilson Montgomery. She was born in Scotland. She and her husband, Robert, sailed to Canada looking for new opportunities.
In the spring of 1845, they met the missionaries. That winter, Mary and Robert were ready to join the Church. They had to cut a hole in the ice to be baptized!
Mary and Robert moved to Nauvoo, Illinois, USA, to be with other Church members. But soon they were forced to leave their homes. They went to Utah in a covered wagon. They settled in North Ogden at the base of a mountain. It reminded Mary of a mountain in Scotland named Ben Lomond (Beacon Mountain). She asked city leaders to name this mountain Ben Lomond too.They agreed.

Once our family spent a night at the home of some out-of-town friends. The next day, our friends’ sons went to school, and we were packing up to leave. My sister and I thought it would be funny to sneak into the boys’ room and put silly notes on their bed. We also got a bottle of glue and squirted glue on their beds. Afterward, I didn’t feel good inside. It didn’t seem funny anymore. I decided to tell my mom what we had done. I knew that we also needed to clean up the glue and confess to our friends. I know that the Holy Ghost helped me to understand that what we did was wrong and that I should tell my mom about it. I learned that I should respect other people’s property.