Gospel Story Finder

One Saturday morning, I hit the road bright and early, and I felt great. I had 20 miles scheduled on my training calendar, but it was such a beautiful day, and I was feeling so great, I decided to stretch it to 26. When I turned around at Waimea Bay to head home, I realized part of my feeling great was I had had a nice tailwind the whole way out. I knew I’d have to fight the wind all the way back. I soon found out that feeling fine at Mile 9 doesn’t mean you’ll feel so keen at Mile 14.

The rest of the run was a disaster. [62] I hadn’t eaten right the day before, so I didn’t have much in the tank. It rained on me, and I was chafing. It was hot and windy. I kept my eyes down on the road, hoping to find enough change for bus fare, so I could catch a ride home. I shuffled along, stopping for a drink whenever I could, until I finally made it home.

That day helped me later in a race. When I came to the moment of decision—to falter? or to finish—I thought back to how I felt, scanning the road for bus money, and how I had survived. “If I survived that day,” I said to myself, “I can push through the pain to finish this race.”

Let’s each of us learn from our past pains and decide today to endure to the end.

“See you later, Mom!” Trevor said as soon as sacrament meeting was over. Trevor couldn’t wait to get to Primary. He walked as fast as he could toward his classroom.
“Walker, Ethan, wait up!” he called. Trevor’s friends slowed down so he could catch up.
Trevor and his friends were always in a hurry to get to class. They liked being together, and their teacher, Sister Goodell, gave great lessons with stories and activities. After class, they liked to hurry to the Primary room and sit in the little Sunbeam chairs before the leaders had a chance to put them away. Sister Dolan, the Primary president, would tell them to sit in the big chairs. The boys would tease her a little bit and shake their heads, then laugh and move to the back row. Trevor loved all the familiar jokes, the familiar scripture stories, the familiar friends, and the familiar songs of Primary.
But something was unfamiliar today. Somebody new was in his classroom—a quiet girl that Trevor had seen around school.
“Boys,” Sister Goodell said, “This is Jana.”
Jana smiled shyly.
Sister Goodell smiled too and asked, “Jana, would you like to say the prayer?”
Jana looked embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said quietly, “I don’t know how.”
Jana was quiet for the rest of the lesson. She didn’t have her own scriptures, and she didn’t know the answers to any of Sister Goodell’s questions. Trevor wondered if Jana was worried because there was so much to learn.
“She can watch the rest of us to see how to act,” he thought.
When class was over, Jana stayed close to Sister Goodell and went straight to the Primary room while Trevor and his friends got a drink. When Trevor walked into the Primary room, he was disappointed to see that the little chairs had already been put away. He and his friends would have to wait until next week to play their favorite joke. He sat down near Jana so she could watch him and see what to do.
He was surprised when Sister Dolan said, “Before we start, I want to thank Jana for being such a great example. She came in and helped me put away the little chairs without even being asked.”
Suddenly Trevor felt embarrassed. He realized that his favorite joke wasn’t very reverent and probably wasn’t very funny to Sister Dolan. He watched Jana during sharing time and noticed that she listened quietly when Trevor would have been playing with the bookmark in his scriptures or whispering to his friends. During singing time, he noticed that even though Jana didn’t know the songs, she had learned some of them by the end because she paid such close attention. When it was time to go, Jana walked up to Sister Dolan and told her that she liked her sharing time lesson. Trevor had never done that, not ever!
Trevor thought about Primary and Jana’s example for the rest of the day. Jana was helpful. She was reverent. She was thoughtful. She understood what to do at church better than Trevor did, and she had never come before. Trevor knew that he still had a lot to learn in Primary. He hoped Jana would come back soon and they could learn it all together.

Many years ago, I served my mission in Norway. As missionaries we heard rumors about the great success the missionaries were having in Mexico. Hundreds of people were being baptized in Mexico and very few people were being baptized in Norway. It was hard for us to understand why there was so much apparent success in Mexico and so little of it in Norway. Some of the missionaries in Norway began to speculate it was because we did not have as much faith as the missionaries in Mexico and that it was our fault that we could not baptize as many people.
During this time President Monson, who was then a member of the Quorum of Twelve came to visit our mission. I remember him clearly telling us not to compare ourselves with Mexico. He said, "Compare Norway with Norway and Mexico with Mexico." He further told us that there were times he wished he could speak as well as Elder LeGrand Richards, who was also a member of the Twelve at the time. But he said that he learned that he should not do this, but simply try the best he could to be a good speaker with the simple talents that the Lord had given him.
I don't think anyone today who sincerely listens to President Monson will doubt his ability to reach our hearts. He truly is a great speaker in his own special way.

“The gospel is a special gift,” Brother Hart told Addie’s Primary class. “One way we can share it is by giving a Book of Mormon to a friend.”
Addie squirmed in her seat. She didn’t know if she could be brave enough to give someone a Book of Mormon. Then she thought of Lane. If it’s just like giving a gift, she thought, then maybe I could give one to Lane.
Lane had moved to Addie’s fourth-grade class halfway through the year. She was quiet just like Addie was. And when Mrs. Naga gave Lane the desk next to Addie, they had both smiled shyly at each other. Soon they were laughing and talking and playing together at recess.
Lane loved books, and Addie decided that, just maybe, she would love the Book of Mormon too.
When Addie got home from church, she asked Mom for a copy of the Book of Mormon. Mom gave her one with a soft cover and beautiful paintings of scripture stories inside. Addie hoped Lane would like it.
Addie carefully wrote her testimony on the first blank page. “Dear Lane, I hope you like this book. It is one of my favorite books. It has lots of good stories, and I know it’s true. Thanks for being my friend.”
She signed her name and carefully slipped the book into her backpack. Her stomach felt all fluttery inside. Would Lane be happy to get it?
At school the next day, Addie could hardly sit still. She was so nervous. What would she say? What would Lane say?
Finally it was recess. Addie stopped Lane before they walked out to the playground.
“I have something for you,” Addie said. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Book of Mormon. “I hope you like it.”
Lane smoothed her fingers over the shiny gold letters on the cover. She smiled. “Thank you.” She put it in her backpack, and then she and Addie ran outside.
Addie could hardly stop smiling. She’d done it! She’d shared the gospel, just like a missionary.
But the next day, it was Lane who stopped Addie before they went out to recess. She quietly pulled out the Book of Mormon from her backpack and handed it to Addie.
“My mom doesn’t want me to read it,” she said. She stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Addie felt her cheeks heat up. “Oh,” was all she could say as she slipped the book back in her own bag. They went out to play hopscotch, but Addie didn’t feel much like hopping. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
When school was over, Addie waved goodbye to Lane. Then she ran home and hurried to her room. The door shut behind her with a dull thud. Addie pulled the book out of her backpack. She’d been so brave, and it hadn’t worked out!
She wiped away tears as she opened up the Book of Mormon to her testimony. She had been so excited when she’d written it. She still knew what she’d written was true, but now she felt sad instead of excited. Lane was one of her best friends. Was there any other way she could share the gift of the gospel with her?
Addie turned around as the door opened.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” __________________ asked.
Write your name in the blank and pretend you’re Addie’s big brother or sister who just walked in. What would you say to her when she told you what happened? How could you help Addie feel better? What other ways could she still share the gospel? Write and tell us!
There are lots of ways to share the gift of the gospel! Like being kind or being a good example.

Twenty-one years ago last April, I came for the first time to the Salt Lake Tabernacle for a general conference of the Church. I was awed by the immensity of the building, but even more by the room-filling presence of the General Authorities who were assembled there.
In my growing-up years, many of them had visited our small branch in Montana. We had no television, nor could we receive conference on the radio. So we looked forward to each visit as a special blessing. They had, it seemed to me, a power and faith above other men.
Then on an April day 21 years ago, I discovered one source of a General Authority’s strength.
I was seated with the six children of Elder Ezra Taft Benson, one of whom was my college roommate. My interest heightened when President McKay arose and announced the next speaker. I watched respectfully as Elder Benson, whom I had not yet met, walked toward the microphone. He was a big man, well over six feet tall. He was a man with a Ph.D., a man internationally known as the United States Secretary of Agriculture and a special witness of the Lord, a man who seemed serene and sure, one who had addressed audiences throughout the world. Suddenly a hand touched my arm. A little girl leaned toward me and whispered urgently, “Pray for dad.”
Somewhat startled, I thought, “This message is being passed down the row, and I am to pass it on. Shall I say, ‘Pray for Elder Benson’? Shall I say, ‘You’re supposed to say a prayer for your father’?” Sensing the immediate need to act, I leaned over and whispered simply, “Pray for dad.”
I watched that whisper move along the row to where Sister Benson sat, her head already bowed.
Many times since that day I have remembered that message—Pray for dad, the patriarch of the home. Pray for him as he serves as district president or home teacher. Pray for him when he becomes executive secretary of a civic group, when his business flourishes, or when he takes a cut in salary. Pray as he gives counsel in family home evening. Pray for dad who works long hours so that Jerold can go on a mission and Diane can go to college. Pray for him as he speaks in sacrament meeting or gives mother a blessing that she might be made well again. Pray as he baptizes William or gives a tiny, newborn baby a name and a father’s blessing. And in the evening, should he come home tired or discouraged, pray for him. Pray for dad in all that he might do—the small things and the great.
As years have passed, general conferences have come and gone, and each time President Benson has stood to speak, I have thought, “His children, who are scattered across the continent, are united now in prayer for their father.”
And I have come to believe that the brief message that passed along the row some 21 years ago is the most important message a family can share. What extraordinary power and faith any man can have to meet the daily challenge of his life if somewhere in the world his daughter or son is whispering, “Pray for dad.”

Dave Kelly is a remarkable young man. He works as a receptionist for the Salt Lake County Inspections Division and, in his spare time, performs as a clown. What makes him different from the other clowns in and around Salt Lake City, Utah? Dave is a victim of spina bifida, a disease of the spinal cord in which one or more vertebrae fail to close properly. As a result of this disease, Dave Kelly is permanently confined to a wheelchair.
Apart from performing as “Wheeler, the Clown,” Dave is active in a number of other areas. He’s a member of the Rose Park Eighth Ward, Salt Lake Rose Park North Stake, and is president of the elders quorum at the Salt Lake Veterans Administration Hospital. He is taking classes in business and is working toward a degree in data processing. Yet, despite all these other activities, his first love is clowning.
“I spent a lot of time in the hospital when I was a child,” Dave recalls, “and I remember some of the best times I ever had were when clowns would come to visit us. I guess I decided then and there to pay back some of the happiness and kindness I had received.”
And pay back he has. Dave has a special fondness for working with handicapped children. Dave is reluctant to set himself up as an example for other handicapped people, but it is difficult not to imagine him as an inspiration to those who look on their wheelchairs as a type of prison. He has the ability to get out on stage and show others that clowning is something that is not the exclusive domain of the unimpaired. His magic tricks are just as amazing, his balloon animals are just as creative, and his jokes are just as corny as any clown on two good legs.
“I believe a clown can communicate to others through his hands, his eyes, and most importantly, through his personality. My wheelchair is something I cannot deny; it is a part of me and I accept that. But it does not have to keep me from enjoying being around others, especially children, and I know that the magical bond between me and my audience is there no matter what.”
With that attitude, all we can do is step out of his way and watch a pro in action.

What produces light? A candle, a flashlight, a lightbulb, the stars. What is the greatest source of light for us? No, it isn’t the sun. It is Jesus Christ. He said, “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12).
This light “is given to every man, that he may know good from evil” (Moro. 7:16). Each of us has the Light of Christ to help us choose the right.
Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles reminds us how we can have spiritual light: “When I was a boy, I used to ride my bicycle home from basketball practice at night. I would connect a small pear-shaped generator to my bicycle tire. Then as I pedaled, the tire would turn a tiny rotor, which produced … a single, welcome beam of light. … I learned quickly that if I stopped pedaling my bicycle, the light would go out. I also learned that when I was ‘anxiously engaged’ in pedaling, the light would become brighter and the darkness in front of me would be [forced away].”
Elder Hales explains that “spiritual light comes from daily spiritual pedaling. It comes from praying, studying the scriptures, fasting, and serving—from living the gospel and obeying the commandments” (“Out of Darkness into His Marvelous Light,” Liahona, July 2002, 78).
When we live the gospel and keep the commandments, we can have the Light of Christ with us always.
Trace the picture on page 6 onto plain white paper, and color the traced picture. Brush your picture very lightly with salad oil, and blot it with a towel. Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of Presidency of the Seventy said that when he was growing up, his “chapel had a stained-glass window of Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. Whenever the sun shone on it, I felt that the story it illustrated and what I had learned in Primary about the First Vision were true” (Liahona, Apr. 1999, F3). Place your picture in a window to remind you of the light the Savior provides in your life.

One morning several years ago I was driving with my family to Disney World in Florida. Our four young daughters were excited as we approached the turnoff to that famous park. The laughter and happy chatter stopped suddenly, however, as our rented station wagon sputtered and chugged to an unexpected stop on the exit ramp. Many cars sped by us in the rush-hour traffic as I tried unsuccessfully to get the car running again. Finally, realizing there was nothing more we could do, we got out of the stalled car and huddled together off the road for a word of prayer.

As we looked up from our prayer, we saw a smiling, handsome man and his son maneuver their bright red sports car through the lanes of traffic and pull off the road beside us. For the remainder of the morning and into the afternoon, these men assisted us and cared for our needs in many kind and helpful ways. They took us and our belongings to the receiving area at the park. In their small car, it took several trips. They helped me locate a tow truck for the stranded car; they drove me to the rental agency to get a replacement vehicle. Then, because there was some delay, they drove back to where my family waited to let them know where I was. They bought refreshments for them and then waited with my family until I returned several hours later.

We felt that these men were truly an answer to our prayer, and we told them so as we said good-bye and tried to thank them. The father responded, “Every morning I tell the good Lord that if there is anyone in need of my help today, please guide me to them.”

We ranked those men very high as followers of Christ that day. Their influence remains with us still. There have been many days since then and possibly equally as many other people uplifted and influenced by daily acts of Christian kindness of that father and his son.

Elder Stolt’s grandfather was Vernon Carl Poulter II, who served a three-year, Mandarin-speaking mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1957. Elder Poulter’s first assignment in the Far East Asia Mission was in Taipei, Taiwan. It had only been open to missionaries for a few months, and because none of the Church’s Latter-day revelations had been translated into Chinese yet, teaching the gospel required an extensive 17 lessons before baptism and another 20 after.
Many of Elder Poulter’s contacts showed great potential, but he was always transferred to a new area before they progressed in their conversion. After one transfer, he and his junior companion decided to put their prayers to the test. Elder Poulter suggested: “Let’s pray specifically to be led to someone prepared to hear the gospel, then stay on our bikes until we receive the Spirit’s direction.”
An hour later, at a busy intersection in congested Taipei traffic, Elder Poulter had the distinct impression to turn right. When he caught up with his companion, the impression returned—stronger this time—that they should turn around.
Elder Poulter recorded: “We plunged back into traffic, made a ‘U-Turn’ across four lanes . . . back to the intersection, and turned left through another eight lanes of traffic.”
The elders eventually found themselves on a street that was too narrow even for bicycles. “As we continued on foot, I saw a man a few feet away watching us very intently through an open window. Our eyes met and I knew he was the person to whom we had been led.”
Mr. Hu invited the missionaries in and accepted, without question, their first lesson about the need for latter-day prophets. “Since Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and is the most important person of our time,” Mr. Hu wondered aloud, “how should I honour him?”
At his request, the missionaries returned the next day to continue teaching Mr. Hu and his family. During the lesson, Elder Poulter recalls that a ‘pure white light’ emanated through the window, but from no apparent source. He writes: “It was clear to my mind that we were in the presence of the Holy Ghost, whose radiance could actually be seen as well as felt.”
After the elders repeated the story of Joseph Smith for his wife and children, Mr. Hu bore his testimony and gave his own lesson to his family based on his reading of a pamphlet the missionaries had left him the day before. “His understanding and sincerity were most impressive,” Elder Poulter recalled. Mr. Hu closed by stating that these elders were bearers of the truth, then asked for permission to translate the pamphlet so he could share it with his friends and neighbours.
“Not knowing better, I said OK . . . we were pleased to see Mr. and Mrs. Hu with their two girls at church the next Sunday.” Then, Elder Poulter was transferred again. Prepared to leave the area, he started to pack a set of books his father had given him for the mission. Along with the standard works, they included, Articles of Faith, Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story, and James E. Talmage’s, The Great Apostasy. “I had the strong impression to take them all to Mr. Hu the next day . . . the [books] were received with joy and gratitude. That was the last I heard of the Hu family on my mission.”

Before I left on that mission, President Anthon H. Lund, who was then a counselor in the First Presidency of the Church, talked to us missionaries, and he said, among other things, “The people will love you. Now,” he said, “don’t get lifted up in the pride of your hearts and think that they love you because you are better than other people. They will love you because of what you bring to them.” I did not understand that then, but before I left the little land of Holland, where I spent nearly three years, I knew what President Lund meant. I went around saying good-bye to the Saints and the converts who I had brought into the Church, and I shed a thousand tears, as compared to what I shed when I told my loved ones good-bye.
For instance, in Amsterdam I went into a home where I had been the first missionary there, and the little mother, looking up into my face with tears rolling down her cheeks, said, “Brother Richards, it was hard to see my daughter leave for Zion a few months ago, but it’s much harder to see you go.” I had been the first missionary in that home. Then I thought I could understand what President Lund meant when he said, “They will love you.”
I went to tell a man with a little Dutch beard good-bye. He stood erect in the uniform of his country. He got down on his knees and took my hand in his and hugged it and kissed it and bathed it with his tears. And then I thought I could understand what President Lund meant when he said, “They will love you.”

I didn’t have a happy childhood. My father is very against the Church, and my parents have made my Church participation difficult. Plus, because of things my parents told me, I believed I was ugly and dumb. My feelings of self-worth were reduced to nothing.
One night, things at home were worse than ever before. I went to my bedroom, and out of stress and exhaustion, I fell to my knees to pray.
Until that moment, I don’t think I’d ever prayed seriously. I began, “My dear Heavenly Father, I need Thy help so much. Please send me someone whom I can talk to and trust. At times like these, I long for someone on earth to hold me, listen to me, and try to help me.”
I prayed with similar pleadings for more than a week. I watched and listened, hoping that Heavenly Father would send me someone I could talk to in person. Nothing happened.
Things at home became worse, but I prayed daily. I heard testimonies of prayers answered immediately and others answered within weeks. But the comfort I wanted came in a way I hadn’t expected, and my prayer to have someone on earth help me didn’t come for two years. So instead of just praying, I started seriously studying the scriptures, fasting, and reading my patriarchal blessing often.
I started to feel something. I could tell I was growing spiritually. During those two very painful years, I got to know my Heavenly Father and my Savior. Because of those two years of praying and waiting, I gained a relationship with Them that is so powerful and strong that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even though the answer hadn’t come the way I thought it would, through the Savior’s grace and Atonement, I was able to find peace.
As I look back on those two years, I realize that Heavenly Father and the Savior know me better than I’ll ever know myself. They know what’s best for me. Two years after my first prayer, Heavenly Father sent people to help me. But by waiting, I was also blessed with endurance, strength, and a testimony that keeps growing stronger every day.

One day when my companion and I went to visit a recent convert in Colombo, Brazil, the house was full of family members. It was crowded, but they still invited us to share a message. We were about to start when the convert’s brother came in. He was not a member of our Church and was not happy about our visit. He seemed to find any way he could to contradict us.
He had a notebook of all the members of his congregation and their sicknesses. He asked us if we believed in the gift of healing. “Of course we do,” we replied. “Well then,” he continued, “I’ve healed all the people in this notebook. How many people have you healed?”
We tried to explain the priesthood, faith, and how things happen according to God’s will, but after a few moments, we felt like we had been cornered and attacked.
Then “in the very moment” (D&C 100:6) we needed it, the Spirit whispered what to say. I explained that while we do believe in healing, our work as missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was to bring spiritual healing to those we taught, which healing is available only through accepting the Atonement of Jesus Christ through faith, repentance, baptism by immersion, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end.
So while we believe in physical healing, we explained, the most important healing is spiritual healing. And that kind of healing was the kind we saw every day. It really didn’t matter if people were healed physically if they didn’t repent and change their lives to follow Christ.
As the Spirit guided us to respond in a calm manner, the tension in the room dispersed, the brother stopped trying to fight, and we were able to share our message.

I once interviewed a young woman who believed she had grossly sinned. She had done some things that were not right though they were not grossly deviant. She had corrected them and lived a good life for several years. The passage of time is a good test of repentance; nevertheless, she continued to feel guilty for the past. In the midst of our interview I felt inspired to tell her that I believed the Lord had forgiven her. That moment of inspiration was felt by her as well, and she felt completely relieved from her sense of guilt. It was a miracle of forgiveness. Others in the ward remarked later about what a changed person she was, though they knew nothing about our interview. A light had turned on in her, and it did not go out again. She became a joyful individual because she was truly free from guilt and she knew that the Lord loved her.

Some years ago I went for the first time to the Salt Lake City Tabernacle for a general conference of the Church. I was awed by the size of the building, but even more by the inspiring presence of the General Authorities who were gathered there.
During my childhood, many of the Brethren had visited our small branch in Montana. We had no television, nor could we receive conference on the radio. So we looked forward to each General Authority visit as a special blessing. They had, it seemed to me, a power and faith above other men.
Then on that April day many years ago, I discovered one source of a General Authority’s strength.
I was attending conference with the six children of Elder Ezra Taft Benson, one of whom was my college roommate. My interest increased when President David O. McKay announced that the next speaker would be Elder Benson. I watched respectfully as Elder Benson, whom I had not yet met, walked toward the microphone. He was a big man, well over 1.8 meters tall. He was a man internationally known as the United States Secretary of Agriculture and a special witness of the Lord, a man who seemed calm and sure, one who had addressed audiences throughout the world. Suddenly a hand touched my arm. One of Elder Benson’s young daughters leaned toward me and whispered urgently, “Pray for dad.”
Somewhat startled, I thought, “This message is being passed down the row and I am to pass it on. Shall I say, ‘Pray for Elder Benson’? Shall I say, ‘You’re supposed to say a prayer for your father’? Sensing the immediate need to act, I leaned over and whispered simply, “Pray for dad.”
I watched that whisper move along the row to where Sister Benson sat, her head already bowed in prayer.

One day I saw my oldest son, Wilford, preparing a tithing envelope. He was probably around five years old at the time. Wilford didn’t earn any money, so I wondered why he was paying tithing. When I asked him, he told me he was actually paying a fast offering.
Wilford didn’t have much money of his own. But he was still excited to pay a fast offering.
I was impressed by this act of kindness. I asked him why he had decided to do this.
Wilford answered, “I don’t have any needs. But I know others do.” He knew his money would help people. He was very happy about that.
This simple experience taught me a good lesson: children are really in tune with the Spirit and have a natural Christlike love. Wilford had something he didn’t need and knew it would be helpful to other people. He was willing to make the sacrifice.
Saving money is good. But my young son taught me another lesson through his example. By listening to the Spirit, we can bless the lives of others when we share what we have.

Sometimes while they gardened, Mom told Vanessa stories about what it was like to grow up on a farm. One day she said, “My mother used to tell me: ‘You reap what you sow. If you plant cucumber seeds, you get cucumber vines and cucumber blossoms, and, eventually, cucumbers. You’ll never get cauliflower from cucumber seeds. If we sow acts of kindness, we reap friendship and happiness.’”
“But if we sow evil and unkindness, then we reap the consequences—unhappiness and sadness,” Vanessa added. They were silent for a few minutes before Vanessa asked, “It can take a long time to see the results of what you’ve sown, can’t it, Mom?” She was thinking of a girl who had started at their school before Christmas and was extremely shy. Vanessa had been nice to her, but it had taken until February to get the girl to respond. But Vanessa’s persistence paid off; the girls were now good friends.

Lini once struggled with feelings of anger and impatience. But when she and her husband joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Lini felt those feelings disappear as she lived the gospel.
Leslie Nilsson, photographer
I started studying the gospel and learned through the teachings of the Church how Jesus loved the children. He was always so kind to them.
I started trying to be more like Jesus. I now try to love all of my family members better. I spend more time with them and more time getting to know their needs. We read the scriptures as a family and pray together every night.
My heart is now much softer. I feel more love and peace and happiness in our home as we follow the teachings of Jesus Christ. I’m grateful for how the gospel helps me learn how to be a better wife, mother, and grandmother.
Some of our older children belong to different religions, but we still hope they will all join the true Church one day. My husband and I have a goal of going through the temple next year. But that’s only our beginning goal. We want our whole family to be able to go through the temple and be sealed together.
The gospel can change our lives. In addition to having a short temper, I used to struggle with some of parts in the Word of Wisdom. But now those aren’t a problem for me any longer. If the gospel can help me become a better person, I know it can do the same for my whole family.
Lini and her husband, Ioane, have both enjoyed the blessings of closer family unity as they have embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ.
At every opportunity, Lini holds her grandchildren close. Lini and her husband have the goal to see their entire family sealed in the temple someday.
Greater love and peace in the home is only one of the blessings Lini has noticed since joining the Church and living the principles she’s learned.

I had this type of experience a little over five years ago when I was called as a General Authority of the Church. At that time my family and I lived in France. Life had smiled on us, and we thought we had received all the blessings we could possibly wish for, both within our family and materially.

One evening, completely unexpectedly, President Thomas S. Monson called our home. I can still remember the sound of his voice as he said, “Brother Caussé, you have been called to serve as a Seventy until you turn seventy.” We valiantly accepted the call with faith and determination.

But in those few minutes our lives had been totally turned upside down! My call meant that we were going to leave our home country and live the next twenty-six years wherever the Lord wanted us to serve. Additionally, I had only a few days to resign from my professional responsibilities if I was to be ready to serve in the time frame requested by the prophet.

The next morning I woke up early to get ready for work. I remember sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Suddenly I felt completely petrified, even paralyzed. The idea of announcing to the president of my company that I was leaving his employment seemed insurmountable to me. I felt tied to him by great loyalty. Everything was moving too fast, too unexpectedly.

Overcome, I began to pray fervently, asking the Lord for the strength to do whatever He wanted me to do. When I reopened my eyes, I saw an issue of the Liahona lying on the table. It was the October 2007 general conference edition. Opening it at random, I fell on an article whose title caught my attention: “Live by Faith and Not by Fear.”

I said to myself, “That’s exactly what I need!” It was a talk by Elder Quentin L. Cook in which he told the story of his being called as a General Authority. He explained that he was not feeling up to the calling and had asked for counsel from Elder Neal A. Maxwell. Elder Maxwell explained that the most important qualification for serving in the kingdom was to be able to bear testimony of the divinity of the Savior. Elder Cook then quoted the promise that the Lord made to His servants in the Doctrine and Covenants, which says, “Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you; and ye shall bear record of me, even Jesus Christ.”14

In reading this scripture I experienced a complete change. I knew what I had to do. My responsibility was to bear testimony of the Savior. The Lord would take care of the rest. Thus I left for work with a reassured heart.

The interview with my employer went beyond my hopes. I was able to testify very simply of my love for the Savior and of my desire to serve Him. At that moment the Spirit entered the office in which we were meeting. Touched by my words, the president assured me of his understanding, his respect, and his support. He later sent a letter to all the managers of my company asking them to do the same.

President David O. McKay related this dream which he had while in the Pacific Islands:
I then fell asleep, and beheld in vision something infinitely sublime. In the distance I beheld a beautiful white city . . . I then saw a great concourse of people approaching the city. Each one wore a white flowing robe, and a white headdress. Instantly my attention seemed centered upon their Leader, and though I could see only the profile of his features and his body, I recognized him at once as my Savior! The tint and radiance of his countenance were glorious to behold! There was a peace about him which seemed sublime – it was divine! The city, I understood, was his. It was the City Eternal; and the people following him were to abide there in peace and eternal happiness. But who were they? As if the Savior read my thoughts, he answered by pointing to a semicircle that then appeared above them, and on which were written in gold the words: ‘These Are They Who Have Overcome The World - Who Have Truly Been Born Again!’ (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, p. 102)

This advice was found and followed by Joe, who had been asked to get up at six in the morning and drive a crippled child 50 miles (80 km) to a hospital. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver’s seat, mumbling thanks through her tears. Joe said everything would be all right and drove off quickly.

After a mile or so, the child inquired shyly, “You’re God, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid not, little fellow,” replied Joe.

“I thought you must be God,” said the child. “I heard Mother praying next to my bed and asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other boys. Do you work for God?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” said Joe, “but not regularly. I think I’m going to work for Him a lot more from now on.”