Gospel Story Finder

I faced such a moment while in the Navy. We were in boot camp with a company of men who constantly bragged in the foulest language about the evil things they had done. One day a friend and I were sitting on our bunks when the door suddenly burst open and in came one of the roughest sailors. He started to call our Savior dirty, derogatory names. My friend looked at me and said, “Dan, we’re not going to take that, are we?” I thought about it for a minute, and finally said, “I guess not.” So I stepped out in front of the man as he came down through the rows of beds, and I told him that I loved the Savior and that he couldn’t say those things about him. Now it was his turn to think it over for a minute, but in the end he apologized. I’d like to think, for his sake, that it wasn’t just because I happened to be the camp boxing champion.

Throughout my youth, I attended a lot of firesides. I admit, I don’t recall everything, but one talk has always stuck with me. One of my leaders, who was previously an Air Force pilot, shared his experience with hypoxia—the lack of oxygen to a person’s body, which impacts their brain.
The leader explained that Air Force pilots are at risk of becoming hypoxic, so they undergo training where they are exposed to it. In one training session, he was instructed to take his oxygen mask off and then to put it back on when he felt himself becoming hypoxic. But he never put his mask back on—his friends had to do it for him.
After the training, his friends explained that they watched him suffer all the signs of hypoxia—bad decision-making, incoherent speech, and confusion. He said he hadn’t felt any of those symptoms and thought he had been acting normal, even though his friends could see that he was in danger.

In the early 1930s, Margaret Kisilevich and her sister Nellie gave a Christmas gift to their neighbors, the Kozicki family, which was remembered by them all their lives and which has become an inspiration to their families.
Home to Margaret back then was Two Hills, Alberta, Canada—a farming community populated largely by Ukrainian and Polish immigrants who generally had large families and were very poor. It was the time of the Great Depression.
Margaret’s family consisted of her mother and father and their 15 children. Margaret’s mother was industrious and her father was enterprising—and with all those children, they had a built-in labor force. Consequently, their home was always warm, and despite their humble circumstances, they were never hungry. In the summer they grew an enormous garden, made sauerkraut, cottage cheese, sour cream, and dill pickles for barter. They also raised chickens, pigs, and beef cattle. They had very little cash, but these goods could be exchanged for other commodities they could not produce themselves.
Margaret’s mother had friends with whom she had emigrated from the old country. These friends owned a general store, and the store became a depot for folks in the area to donate or trade surplus hand-me-down clothing, shoes, etc. Many of these used items were passed along to Margaret’s family.
Alberta winters were cold, long, and hard, and one particularly cold and difficult winter, Margaret and her sister Nellie noticed the poverty of their neighbors, the Kozicki family, whose farm was a few miles away. When the Kozicki father would take his children to school on his homemade sleigh, he would always go into the school to warm himself by the potbelly stove before returning home. The family’s footwear consisted of rags and gunny sacks cut into strips and wrapped about the legs and feet, stuffed with straw, and bound with twine.
Margaret and Nellie decided to invite the Kozicki family, by way of the children, for Christmas dinner. They also decided not to tell anyone in their family of the invitation.
Christmas morning dawned, and everyone in Margaret’s family was busy with the preparations for the midday feast. The huge pork roast had been put in the oven the night before. The cabbage rolls, doughnuts, prune buns, and special burnt sugar punch had been prepared earlier. The menu would be rounded out with sauerkraut, dill pickles, and vegetables. Margaret and Nellie were in charge of getting the fresh vegetables ready, and their mother kept asking them why they were peeling so many potatoes, carrots, and beets. But they just kept peeling.
Their father was the first to notice a team of horses and a sleigh packed with 13 people coming down their lane. He, being a horse lover, could recognize a team from a long distance. He asked his wife, “Why are the Kozickis coming here?” Her response to him was, “I don’t know.”
They arrived, and Margaret’s father helped Mr. Kozicki stable the horses. Mrs. Kozicki embraced Margaret’s mother and thanked her for inviting them for Christmas. Then they all piled into the house, and the festivities began.
The adults ate first, and then the plates and cutlery were washed, and the children ate in shifts. It was a glorious feast, made better by the sharing of it. After everyone had eaten, they sang Christmas carols together, and then the adults settled down for another chat.
Margaret and Nellie took the children into the bedroom and pulled from under the beds several boxes filled with hand-me-downs they had been given by their mother’s merchant friends. It was heavenly chaos, with an instant fashion show and everyone picking whatever clothes and footwear they wanted. They made such a racket that Margaret’s father came in to see what all the noise was about. When he saw their happiness and the joy of the Kozicki children with their “new” clothes, he smiled and said, “Carry on.”
Early in the afternoon, before it got too cold and dark with the setting sun, Margaret’s family bid farewell to their friends, who left well fed, well clothed, and well shod.
Margaret and Nellie never told anyone about their invitation to the Kozickis, and the secret remained until Margaret Kisilevich Wright’s 77th Christmas, in 1998, when she shared it with her family for the first time. She said it was her very best Christmas ever.

After 50 years, the living posterity of a French Polynesian couple has returned to the Hamilton New Zealand Temple for a glorious anniversary celebration of their parents’ lives and legacy.
In September 2023, fifty years after their first trip to New Zealand, the remaining Mou Tham children and other family members gathered in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple for this incredible anniversary.
“Our family on both sides, my father in New Caledonia and my mother in Raiatea, have unforgettable memories about those times,” Gisele shared. “Being here 50 years later, it’s a wonderful way to thank Heavenly Father for the help He gave us to make that dream come true.”
She said the family is united in gratitude to their parents for the gospel legacy they left, and their example of temple work. “We deeply felt their presence around us, as well as the presence of our beloved ones who are gone.”
“We are aware of the huge responsibility it is to pass on this legacy to our children, grandchildren, and next generations,” Gisele continued to share. “The light our parents started must stay strong. It will guide our steps on the covenant path leading to our celestial home.”
Her brother Gérard, who never returned to Raiatea after working with his father in New Caledonia, adds: “The blessing of this temple sealing 50 years ago is with me every day of my life. It helps me to stay strong in my faith and in the testimony of the true house of the Lord.”
As he attended the temple, he said he also felt his parents’ love there. “I felt their joy to see all their children in the temple so many years after their first visit. I felt Heavenly Father’s love through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ.”

The story of the train is one of Brian’s favorites. One explanation of the drawing is that many years ago an important chief of the tribes who lived near Storybook Canyon was invited by the big chief of the white men (the president of the United States) to visit Washington, D.C. The Indian chief and many important leaders from nearby tribes traveled by steam train to the East. There they spent several weeks as the honored guests of the president.
When the Indians returned from Washington, the chief climbed onto the ledges of Storybook Canyon and there, like his people had done for many generations before him, he carefully carved into the soft rock the story of that important event. The train that the chief drew on the ledge is over ten feet long.

Jetta Pearl Stewart pulled off her bonnet and plopped down on the porch next to Father. “What’s a pearl?” she asked him.
Eight-year-old Jetta knew what a pearl was, but she loved hearing Father’s answer. Like always, Father explained how pearls grow in oysters, layer upon layer, until they become a bright, shiny jewel.
“Pearls shine like you, my little Jetta Pearl,” he said, smiling. Jetta smiled back. She liked being his Pearl.
At dinner that night, Father told Jetta he had an important question for her.
“Ever since you were little, you have had a special way with music,” Father said. “Would you like to learn the piano?”
Jetta’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes!”
“It would mean traveling far away and staying with your teacher for a while,” Mother said. “No one here in Milburn can teach you.”
Jetta’s smile faded. She had never been away from her family for more than a day. And to be far away …
“But it’s important for us to develop our talents, even when it’s difficult,” Father said.
Mother nodded. “You must work very hard,” she said.
Jetta loved music. And she had always wanted to play the piano. Slowly, a smile crept onto her face. “I’m going to play the piano!”
But the next morning, as Jetta watched Father hitch the horses to the wagon, she didn’t feel excited at all. Today she was just scared. She hadn’t expected to be leaving home so soon.
Jetta slowly climbed up into the wagon next to Father.
“You ready, Jetta Pearl?” he said.
She didn’t feel ready, but Jetta nodded. The wagon lurched forward.
After a while, Father glanced over at her. “Do you know how proud your mother and I are of you?”
Jetta nodded. “But what if you need my help at home?”
Father smiled. “We’ll sure miss you, but this is a way only you can help. You’ll be serving Heavenly Father by developing gifts He gave you.”
She hadn’t thought about it like that. Could her musical talent really be a gift from Heavenly Father?
Father continued. “It will take time, but little by little you’ll get better at playing piano. And then you’ll be able to serve lots of people.”
Jetta felt her fear start to fade. She was going to learn the piano and serve Heavenly Father. It would be scary, but she knew that He would help her.
Father winked. “Layer by layer, my little Pearl is getting bright and shiny.”
Just like Father had said, little by little Jetta learned to play the piano. She even learned how to play the organ.
After a few months, Jetta returned home. That Sunday she became Milburn’s very first organist! Her heart raced as she sat at the huge organ the community had worked to buy for her to play. It was so beautiful that Jetta was almost afraid to touch it. She had to sit on a book to reach the keys.
She took a deep breath and started to play. The notes soared across the room, full and beautiful.
Jetta sneaked a peek at the congregation. People were smiling as they sang. Jetta smiled too. Her playing was far from perfect, but she was using her talents to serve.
She remembered Father’s words: “Pearls shine like you, Jetta Pearl.”
Little by little, layer by layer, Heavenly Father was making her into a true pearl.

A true story from the USA.
Emma gripped her pencil tightly as her teacher handed out the papers.
“It’s time for our Cheetah Chase,” said Ms. Malcolm. “You have five minutes to do 93 math problems. Everyone who finishes on time can add a cheetah sticker to their chart.”
Emma really wanted a cheetah sticker. If you got five stickers, you won a prize! But the Cheetah Chase math problems were so hard.
“Everyone ready?” Ms. Malcolm said. “Go!”
Emma flipped over her paper and started answering the questions. She had to think carefully about each one. It was hard!
BZZZZZZZ! The timer went off, making Emma jump.
“Pencils down!” Ms. Malcolm called.
Emma hid her paper with her hand and kept writing answers. It wasn’t a big deal if she kept going, right? She’d done it before, and nobody noticed.
“Pass your paper to the person next to you for grading,” Ms. Malcolm said.
Emma finished the last answer before passing her paper.
When Emma got her paper back, she saw the red 100% at the top. But she didn’t feel very good inside.
“Everyone come show me your papers to get your stickers,” Ms. Malcolm said.
Emma walked to Ms. Malcolm’s desk with her paper.
“Emma, can you stay up here for a minute, please?” Ms. Malcolm asked.
While everyone else was talking, Ms. Malcolm turned to Emma. “Did you keep answering questions even after the timer went off?”
Emma’s face got really hot. She nodded and looked down. “Yes.”
“Have you done that before?”
Emma shook her head. “No.” But she felt her face get even hotter. She had cheated before. And now she had lied.
“I can’t give you a cheetah sticker unless you follow the rules. Do you understand?”
Emma nodded. Then she walked to her seat with her eyes down.
For the rest of the school day, Emma felt an awful knot twisting and turning in her stomach. She felt bad for cheating. She felt bad for lying. She didn’t like this feeling!
After school, Emma talked to Mom. “I don’t feel very good,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
Emma suddenly got nervous. Should she tell Mom what she had done?
She took a deep breath. “I cheated today at school.” It was the first time she said it out loud. It felt like the knot in her stomach was untwisting. “And I’ve done it before. I feel bad.”
Mom gave Emma a hug. “Thanks for telling me. You know cheating is wrong. Why did you do it?”
“Because I really wanted a cheetah sticker, but I didn’t finish the math problems in time.”
Mom nodded. “What do you think you should do now?”
Emma thought about it. “I should say a prayer to Heavenly Father to say sorry for not being honest. Then tell my teacher.”
“That sounds great.” Mom smiled. “And I can help you practice math more so you’re ready for the next Cheetah Chase.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Emma said. Then she and Mom knelt down to say a prayer. Emma felt warm. She was glad she had decided to repent.
After she prayed, Emma wrote an email to her teacher. She told the truth and said sorry for cheating. She promised she wouldn’t do it again.
After clicking send, Emma felt so much better. She knew Ms. Malcolm would probably cross her cheetah stickers off her chart. But that was OK. From now on she would earn them the honest way.
“Because of Jesus Christ, we can repent and be forgiven of our sins.”
President Russell M. Nelson, “The Answer Is Always Jesus Christ,” Liahona, May 2023, 127.
Illustrations by Anny Chen

Elder Russell M. Nelson: “When I was working at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center, two professional colleagues, a husband and wife, asked me about the Mormons. I gave them a preliminary overview and lent them my Book of Mormon. After about a week they returned the book to me and said, ‘Thanks a lot.’

“I said, ‘What do you mean, “Thanks a lot?”’ As one who deeply loves this book, I felt that was an inadequate response. ‘Perhaps you didn’t really read the book,’ I said. ‘Please take it back and read it. When you have read it, I would very much appreciate knowing of your feelings and insight.’

“They retrieved the book, acknowledging that they had only thumbed the pages. About three weeks later they came back with tears in their eyes and said, ‘We know this book is true. How can we learn more?’

“Then I said, ‘Now I know you’ve read the book. Now we can proceed.’ In due course, they were baptized.

“The Book of Mormon has great convincing power as another witness for Jesus Christ. There is no other explanation for its existence than that which the Prophet Joseph Smith gave.”

It was 7:45 a.m. on a rainy August morning here in Freetown, Sierra Leone, West Africa. We (the full-time missionaries in the Freetown District) had planned a baptismal service and were determined to hold it, rain or shine. It was then I received a call from Brother Allieu, a member from our branch, but I could not totally understand what he was saying, as he was speaking rapidly in Krio, the local language. I told him to take a deep breath and speak slowly. He did so and said, “Elder Naeata, there is no water for the baptismal font. I am sorry. There is no water.”
I thanked him for the call and then announced the bad news to the other elders. Immediately we began to think of how we could still perform this sacred ordinance. It was then that Elder Agamah reminded us of the waterfall and pond up the mountain nearby in a place called Mellow. The elders all agreed we should try and hold the baptism there, so we obtained permission to do so.
As everyone gathered later that morning at the bottom of the mountain, the group came to a stark realization of the formidable task looming ahead. However, the determined company had no sign of hesitation to press forward. Men and women and even children walked and talked happily up the wet and slippery trail. Gradually ascending, we took a short detour to cross the river.
As we hiked, the zeal of some in the party began to fade when the rain picked up, but we pressed forward with hope. Still, the rugged path seemed to have no end. Finally we arrived at our destination. Our hearts were happy, but the rain persisted to beat down upon us. As we prepared for the baptismal service, we took refuge from the rain under a large mango tree.
We opened by singing the hymn “The Spirit of God” (Hymns, no. 2). After the opening devotional we went to the baptismal site. The water was rushing off the falls and into the pond where we would perform the sacred ordinance.
A father entered the pond and helped his son into the water when, suddenly, the rain stopped. The rays of the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the pond. We could feel the presence of the Spirit. After the father baptized his son, a husband baptized his wife, and then the elders baptized their investigators. The sun continued to shine, as did the smiles on our faces.
We closed the service by singing “Come, Follow Me” (Hymns, no. 116). Yes, indeed, we did follow Him. We followed our Savior up and down the mountain, across full, flowing creeks, up the steep and wet trails, and through the rain. And those who were baptized truly followed the Savior’s example as they entered the waters of baptism.

Katie Lewis is my neighbor. Her older brother, Jimmie, is battling leukemia. But like the faithful Latter-day Saints they are, the Lewises turned to God with urgency and with faith and with hope. They fasted and prayed, prayed and fasted. And they went again and again to the temple.
One day Sister Lewis came home from a temple session weary and worried. As she entered her home, four-year-old Katie ran up to her with love in her eyes and a crumpled sheaf [stack] of papers in her hand. Holding the papers out to her mother, she said enthusiastically, “Mommy, do you know what these are?”
Sister Lewis smiled through her sorrow and said, “No, Katie. I don’t know what they are. Please tell me.”
“They are the scriptures,” Katie beamed back, “and do you know what they say?”
Sister Lewis knelt down to her level and said, “Tell me, Katie. What do the scriptures say?”
“They say, ‘Trust Jesus.’”
Sister Lewis said that as she stood back up, she felt arms of peace encircle her weary soul and a divine stillness calm her troubled heart.

Wise parents see in every need of others a way to bring blessings into the lives of their sons and daughters. Three children recently carried containers holding a delicious dinner to our front door. Their parents knew that we needed help, and they included their children in the opportunity to serve us.
The parents blessed our family by their generous service. By their choice to let their children participate in the giving, they extended blessings to their future grandchildren. The smiles of the children as they left our home made me confident that will happen. They will tell their children of the joy they felt giving kindly service for the Lord. I remember that feeling of quiet satisfaction from childhood as I pulled weeds for a neighbor at my father’s invitation. Whenever I am invited to be a giver, I remember and believe the lyrics “Sweet is the work, my God, my King.”
I know those lyrics were written to describe the joy that comes from worshipping the Lord on the Sabbath. But those children with the food at our door were feeling on a weekday the joy of doing the Lord’s work. And their parents saw the opportunity to do good and spread joy over generations.

Swimming, like football, is not a mission activity, yet Mark McGregor knew he must stop swimming for the entire two years of his mission. A freestyle swimmer on the BYU swim team, Mark had every intention of returning to the team, and he kept in good physical condition by following the exercises outlined in the missionary physical fitness program, along with an arm exercise especially for swimmers.
In high school Mark had been selected high school All-American. The year prior to his mission he set the BYU school record and won the Western Athletic Conference championship in the 200- and the 500-meter freestyle. While he was gone, his record for the 200 meter was broken.
“The hard part about being away from swimming,” says Coach Tim Powers, “is that the records get faster while you’re away.” Mark couldn’t just come back and regain his old speed—he had to do better. And he is, doing better much to the inspiration of fellow teammates who are considering going on missions. Since returning, he has rewon the school record for the 200 meter freestyle and broken his old record in the 500 meter (although that school record is now held by teammate John Sorwich). Mark has another year at BYU, and he and his coach are looking forward to what it will bring.
Do these athletes feel that they are better for having served a mission? The answer is unanimous—yes! As Mark McGregor put it, “There are many similarities between the mission field and athletics, especially regarding the mental attitude. A positive mental attitude is imperative in both. I learned a lot about what it takes to gain this positive mental attitude in the mission field, and it has had a beneficial effect on my swimming.”
Although some missionaries do return and do not continue in sports, it is usually due to a change in interests rather than inability. Ed, Mark, and Lance are convinced that any athlete who serves a mission will be able to regain his previous ability upon diligently applying himself.

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.
She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.
Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

I live in the central African nation of Zaire with my wife, Nambwa Mbo, and our two sons, Kabamba and Kamulete. We are all members of the Church. Our third son, Vumbi, died in December 1996.
From time to time, we read articles in the Church magazines about members who make great sacrifices to go to the temple. I am always amazed by the incredible things that happen to help them on their way. I never imagined that something similar would happen to me.
Our home in the city of Kinsuka is far from South Africa, where the nearest temple is. I had often thought, Why should I bother to get a temple recommend? I can’t afford to go. But in 1994, President Howard W. Hunter advised all worthy Latter-day Saints to get a temple recommend, even if they lived far from a temple (see Tambuli, November 1994, 6). His words touched my heart, and I asked my branch president for an interview. I did not realize then that my Father in Heaven had a great blessing in store for me.
I work for a man who serves in the parliament of Zaire. Late in 1995, he received an invitation to go to North Korea. He filled out all the necessary papers to have this official assignment approved and included my name on the list of those who were to go with him. However, our government did not approve the plans. This refusal began a lengthy period of negotiations as my supervisor continued to try to get approval.
I asked my priesthood leaders to pray with me that the plans would be approved and that my name would remain on the list. Four months later, approval was given. Only two names remained on the list—my supervisor’s and mine.
I was elated. But knowing that there is no temple in North Korea, I still didn’t know how significant my trip would be. When I received the news that the trip had been approved, I heard these words whispered quietly in my heart: “Do not delay! Make sure Switzerland is included on your travel route.” I realized that perhaps I would be able to go to the Swiss Temple!
I immediately went to my supervisor and suggested that we fly to and from North Korea through Switzerland. He had no objection, so I arranged for the tickets and for visas for all the countries we were to travel through. Incredibly, when the visas arrived, I discovered that all of the countries had sent us only short-term, transit visas—except Switzerland, which had sent us tourist visas good for a month!
We left Zaire and arrived safely in North Korea. Heavenly Father was with me at all times. He gave me strength to live according to his word and to be a good example of the restored gospel. It was wintertime, and we were often offered a hot cup of tea. But I was always obedient to the Word of Wisdom. When we sat down at a table with the North Korean officials, they would all raise teacups, coffee cups, or wine glasses while proposing a toast. I would drink a glass of water or a cup of milk.
At the conclusion of our assignment in North Korea, we flew to China and then on to Switzerland, landing in Geneva. My Church leader in Zaire had suggested that I contact a member of the Church named Brother Rimli as soon as I arrived in Geneva. I planned to meet Brother Rimli the following day and go to the Swiss Temple with him. However, my supervisor told me he wanted me to accompany him to Lausanne, another city in Switzerland. I explained that I had a very important appointment the next day and would not be able to accompany him. But he insisted that I go to Lausanne with him instead.
I retired to my room and offered a secret prayer. Not long after, my supervisor told me he had changed his mind—I need not go with him after all.
When I traveled to Bern the next day and met Brother Rimli at the Swiss Temple, how humble and grateful I felt! I was impressed by the beauty and stateliness of the building. All of the temple workers were expecting me and made me feel welcome. I felt at home there. I will never forget the love the temple president and his wife, President and Sister Mario V. Vaira, expressed for me. I received my endowment that day, and it has been the greatest gift in my life. I pray for the day when I can take my wife and our two sons to the temple. We desire with all our hearts to have our deceased third son sealed to us as well.
This is God’s true Church. We have a living prophet on the earth today. May we always hearken to his counsel. I did not think I would ever be able to go to the temple, but I obtained a recommend as the prophet had counseled. And my Father in Heaven prepared a very special way for me to receive temple blessings.

I was assigned to home teach with Brother Erickson, an older member of my ward who was a dedicated home teacher. He had me do the scheduling, which I didn’t mind.
One of our families, the Wrights (name has been changed), was not actively involved with the Church. When I called the home, Brother Wright said, “Don’t ever call my home again.”
I told Brother Erickson what had happened. The following month, when he asked me to call the Wrights again, I reminded him that Brother Wright didn’t want us to call. Brother Erickson insisted that I call anyway, so I did. When Brother Wright answered the phone, I asked him not to hang up on me and told him that my home teaching companion had insisted I call. I asked if we could home teach him just by calling each month. He agreed.
From that point on, I called the Wrights each month. Every time I called, Brother Wright would say, “You’ve made your call.” Then he would hang up. I didn’t have a problem with that, and Brother Erickson didn’t ask for more.
But after several months had passed, Brother Erickson suggested that we fast for the Wrights. I agreed, so one Sunday we prayed and fasted to find a way to reach Brother Wright. The next morning as I passed the Wright home on my way to work, Brother Wright was coming out of the house. I could see a toy truck under one of the rear tires of his car, so I stopped and pointed it out. He thanked me.
“By the way,” I said, “I’m your home teacher.”
He thanked me again as I headed off to work.
I called Brother Erickson to tell him what had happened. He asked me to call Brother Wright to set up a home teaching appointment for the next evening, which I did. Brother Wright was both congenial and accepting. We had a great visit with the family and set up another appointment. I left their home with a greater testimony of fasting and prayer and of the importance of being a home teacher.
Later that week we learned that Brother Wright had allowed the full-time missionaries to start teaching his 15-year-old daughter. She had been praying for months that her father would soften his heart and let her be baptized. Over time the family began attending church, and Brother Wright eventually consented to his daughter’s baptism. In fact, he was the one who baptized her.
I’m grateful that Brother Erickson was in tune with the Spirit. His insights during this experience helped me gain a greater testimony of the power and potential of dedicated home teaching.

President David O. McKay remembered listening to his mother many times tell of growing up in Wales, where she was born in the village of Merthyr Tydfil on August 28, 1850.
When Jennette was only six years old, she and her family came to America on a large ship. They had been baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and wanted very much to live with the Saints in Utah.
The Evans family settled in Ogden, Utah, and Jennette was attending school there when she first met David McKay. They were later married by Wilford Woodruff, who would soon become president of the Church.

World leaders are recognizing the need to learn more about the Church as they become aware of the presence of a growing religion in their area or notice the good works the Church is doing through its humanitarian arm. Two leaders recently made separate visits to Salt Lake City to tour Temple Square and learn more about the Church.
Chile’s First Lady
Chile’s first lady, Luisa Durán de Lagos, visited Salt Lake City on September 21, 2004, to personally thank the Church for the many humanitarian efforts taking place in her country.
Mrs. Durán de Lagos met and talked with the First Presidency before touring the Humanitarian Center. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave the tour, ending it with the presentation of a gift: 600 computers donated by Brigham Young University to be used by schoolchildren in Chile.
“I came here because I wanted to personally thank the Church for what it has given us,” she said. “We have received from the [Church] assistance with ‘Chile Solidario,’ a program designed to help Chile’s poorest families arise from poverty.”

A few days before last Christmas a terrible tragedy occurred at one of the large coal mines in central Utah. Twenty-seven miners lost their lives when fire engulfed the long underground slopes and shafts. Many of these were young men with young wives and young children. The hearts of thousands over the world were touched by the suffering of loved ones left behind.
I met many of these. I spoke with them. I joined with them in a memorial service. There were tears, with much of weeping. There was an overwhelming feeling of loneliness as widows, with children to feed and clothe and educate, looked into the bleakness of the future. Our tears flowed with theirs. But shining through all of this was a faith transcendent that, as surely as there had been mortal death, there will be immortal life; and as certainly as there had been separation, there will be reunion. This is the faith which comes of Christ, who brought to all the promise of immortality.

Produced in Salt Lake City in 2022, the demo video for ‘I See the Christ’ features vocalists Casey Elliot, from the musical trio Gentri, and Savannah Stevenson, a leading lady from London’s West End. They are accompanied by Jayne Galloway on piano and Grammy-nominated cellist, Nicole Pinnell.
Scott first saw Nicole play in the film adaptation of Rob Gardner’s musical production, Lamb of God, where, through her cello, she stunningly represented the voice of Christ. Following a prompting that spoke to his heart, Scott reached out to her via social media.
“I feel that Heavenly Father truly opened a door for me through Nicole’s incredible talent, generosity and connections,” Scott recalls. “I am so grateful that she had the heart to be willing to listen to my music.”
Nicole introduced Scott to Casey Elliot, and Scott reached out to Savannah Stevenson, also via social media, after seeing her perform on a Brigham Young University programme. Savannah sang the solo for, “Bring on Tomorrow,’ and in the duet, ‘I See the Christ’ with Casey.

History is filled with numerous examples of men and women who wore out their lives in service to others. One such person was Florence Nightingale, the founder of the modern nursing profession. Born in 1820 in Florence, Italy, where her well-to-do parents were temporarily residing, she grew to womanhood in England. A child of privilege, she could easily have spent her life in the mindless pursuit of pleasure. But she felt deeply that God had a mission for her to accomplish. She trained in Germany as a practical nurse and became the superintendent of nurses at a hospital in London. It was not an easy task. Nursing at that time was a profession with little prestige.
In 1854, when war broke out in the Crimea, Florence took a party of nurses to work in the military hospitals in Turkey. When she arrived she found that wounded men were being kept under appalling conditions of filth, degradation, and gross overcrowding.
Blessed with an iron will and unflinching courage, Florence fought the hostility of the medical establishment and the army bureaucracy to obtain supplies needed for proper nursing of desperately wounded soldiers. Prodigious efforts were made to clean the wards and bring to the injured some of the amenities of civilized life. The wounded began to receive nourishing, well-cooked food and the comfort of clean linen. Wounds were dressed regularly, and the men were bathed and given clean clothing.
Florence drove herself hard. She worked 18-hour days, making her rounds through the wards late at night, a lamp in her hand, giving comfort and solace to thousands. She became idolized by the soldiers, who called her “the Lady with the Lamp.” Her unstinting service paid off. In a few months the mortality rate among the wounded fell from more than 40 percent to just over 2 percent.
The justly honored position held by the nursing profession today throughout the world has resulted in no small measure from the example of Florence Nightingale’s extraordinary life of unstinting service. I believe she would have agreed with King Benjamin, who knew that “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).