Gospel Story Finder

The thought of going from England to the United States was exciting, and performing in a Church-themed musical would be fantastic! I quickly signed up for the trip, not thinking about the cost.
I started saving my money, but I knew it was going to be difficult. I was at a new job, which had been amazing for work experience but didn’t pay well, and I was really struggling for money.
One afternoon I was looking at my bills. As I calculated everything I owed, I thought back to the previous Sunday. We’d had a lesson about paying tithing and the blessings that would come. During the lesson I’d been thinking about how I hadn’t yet paid my tithing that month. I realized that if I paid my tithing, my bank account would be emptied.
I wouldn’t have time to earn enough money to go on the trip or have any spending money while there. But I knew I had to pay my tithing.
The next Sunday, I filled out the tithing slip and gave it to my bishop. I wondered what I was going to do about the money I’d need for this trip, but I told myself that if I showed my faithfulness, everything would work out for the best. I hoped that meant I could find a way to go on the trip.
Not 10 minutes after I gave my tithing envelope to the bishop, a woman in my ward came up to me and handed me another envelope. “Just something to wish you luck on your trip. Have a good time!” she said. I’d been in the ward for only six months and didn’t know her very well, but I did know that she had 10 children and led a very busy life.
When I got home, I opened the envelope to find U.S. money. I immediately called her up and told her I couldn’t accept the money she had given me. She stopped me short. “Beth, this is something I felt really prompted to do. I really want to do this and help you out with your trip. I really want you to be able to have a good time.”
I sat at the desk in my room, absolutely stunned. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. As I stared at the money, I started wondering about the currency conversion. I had paid my tithing in British pounds, and she had given me U.S. dollars. I quickly looked on the Internet to see the conversion rates. As I typed in the amount of dollars I had just been given, I stared in shock at the screen. It was the exact amount that I had paid in tithing, plus 10 pence. I couldn’t believe my eyes!
Now I was back to my starting balance. I was so grateful to the Lord. With that, I would have just enough money to go on my trip, although I wouldn’t be able to go on any outings or buy anything, including food.
The next morning, a friend of mine called me out of the blue and told me about a job. It would last for one week and the hours were terrible, but it paid really well—enough to provide money for food and other activities while on my trip.
Even though it wasn’t easy for me to give up the last of my money for tithing, I knew that the money wasn’t mine—it was the Lord’s. I know that tithing can really bless lives when it is paid faithfully, and I saw this in my own life.

How does someone with a degree in recreational therapy and 10 years of experience in the mental health field end up opening a dessert shop selling colorful brownies, blondies, and ice cream?
For Molly Kohrman, the answer is simple. In 2017 she took a 12-week Self-Reliance Services course on how to start and grow your own business. That course gave her the courage to pursue a dream.
“I did pastry school in Washington, D.C., and I went to culinary school in Utah,” she says. “When my stake said they were going to do self-reliance classes, I thought, ‘Maybe I should look into this. I’ve always wanted to have my own business. I’ve done other business classes. It wouldn’t hurt to learn more.’”
The course was different from any other business or pastry class Molly had taken. What made it unique, she says, was the presence of the Holy Ghost and the spirit of camaraderie among course members.
“The business discussions were good and helpful,” she says, “but it was the spiritual side tied into the business discussions that made the biggest difference for me.”
“I went through an inner turmoil,” Molly says. “I wondered if using all of my savings, time, and energy to start a business would really be the best use of my resources when, at the time, I was working in suicide prevention.”
During her first class, Molly and other attendees discussed the Lord’s desire that His Saints be successful and choose a livelihood that brings them joy. She asked the group, “How do you reconcile using the talents you’ve been given for weighty matters versus using your talents for something you just want to do?”
As the group discussed her question, Molly realized that she wouldn’t just be selling brownies. If her business proved successful, she would be employing people, she would have financial resources to donate to worthy causes, and, once her work hours slowed down, she could return to social work as a volunteer.
“It took me until that discussion to really understand. It didn’t sink in until I was in a room full of like-minded people,” she says. “We were all at different stages of the business process and at different stages of life, but the Spirit was there, and it definitely guided our discussion—in every class. I realized that if having my own business was really what I wanted, then Heavenly Father would support me.”
About halfway through her 12-week course, Molly began baking and sharing brownies with the 10 members of her self-reliance group.
“They weren’t mad at all about that, and some of them had really good feedback,” she says. “I started trying different flavors, frostings, and compositions. By the end of the class, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do.”
Molly says it was vital to get together weekly with her group, hold each other accountable for weekly commitments, learn how and whom to ask for help, and direct each other to needed resources.
“During the whole time we were together, I felt blessed and supported by the people in my group,” she says. “The class helped me become aware of all the things I had to figure out.”
After opening her brownie shop in the fall of 2018, Molly quickly discovered that running a business takes more time than she had imagined. But a principle she remembers from her self-reliance class continues to bless her.
“I could not have started this business without Heavenly Father’s help,” she says. “And without the help and support of many other people, it just wouldn’t have been possible. This is such a great opportunity. I’ve wanted to do it for so long.”
And thanks to her self-reliance class, “I’ve been blessed with the chance to try.”

Material blessings are a part of the gospel if they are achieved in the proper way and for the right purpose. I am reminded of an experience of President Hugh B. Brown. As a young soldier in World War I, he was visiting an elderly friend in the hospital. This friend was a millionaire several times over who, at the age of eighty, was lying at death’s door. Neither his divorced wife nor any of his five children cared enough to come to the hospital to see him. As President Brown thought of the things his friend “had lost which money could not buy and noted his tragic situation and the depth of his misery,” he asked his friend how he would change the course of his life if he had it to live over again.
The old gentleman, who died a few days later, said: “‘As I think back over life the most important and valuable asset which I might have had but which I lost in the process of accumulating my millions, was the simple faith my mother had in God and in the immortality of the soul.
“‘… You asked me what is the most valuable thing in life. I cannot answer you in better words than those used by the poet.’” He asked President Brown to get a little book out of his briefcase from which he read a poem entitled “I’m an Alien.”
I’m an alien, to the faith my mother taught me.
I’m a stranger to the God that heard my mother when she cried.
I’m an alien to the comfort that, “Now I lay me,” brought me.
To the everlasting arms that held my father when he died.
When the great world came and called me, I deserted all to follow.
Never noting in my blindness I had slipped my hand from His.
Never dreaming in my dazedness that the bubble fame is hollow.
That the wealth of gold is tinsel, as I since have learned it is.
I have spent a lifetime seeking things I spurned when I found them,
I have fought and been rewarded in many a winning cause,
But I’d give it all, fame and fortune and the pleasures that surround them,
If I only had the faith that made my mother what she was.
“That was the dying testimony of a man who was born in the Church but had drifted far from it. That was the brokenhearted cry of a lonely man who could have anything money could buy, but who had lost the most important things of life in order to accumulate this world’s goods” (Continuing the Quest, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1961, pp. 32–35; italics added).

For Ann the problems faced by some of her fellow students are very real. “I bet if I wasn’t Mormon, it would be really hard. There is so much peer pressure. Sometimes they try to make the parties with drinking sound real fun, but to me it sounds childish. Being a member of the branch helps because we always have activities. With that and with student council and with other clubs, I really keep myself busy. I just wish other students would get involved because they always say it’s so boring, but they don’t get involved.”
Ann was a little worried about her graduation night. She and George and two of their friends were the only ones she knew of who were not going to a graduation party. They had chosen not to go because they were quite sure that there would be drinking at the parties. Even though Ann is president of the student body, she would not give up her principles for that night or any other.

My mom passed away when I was 12. That’s when I started to have questions about what happens to families after this life. The priest at the church I attended told me that when we die, we will not have families. He said I will see my mother again, but I will not recognize her as my mom, and she will not recognize me as her daughter.
That was not the answer I had hoped for. I continued attending church with my family, but my questions persisted. I also wondered, “Where are the prophets? Where are the Apostles?”
When I turned 14, I searched “Jesus Christ” on the internet. It led me to a website for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Not long after that, two missionaries knocked on my door. They wanted to share a message about Jesus Christ. I invited them in and asked my father to join us.
The first question the missionaries asked me was, “Do you know that families can be eternal?”
I replied, “No, they cannot.” Then I told them what I had learned from my priest. After our discussion, I found the elders on Facebook. I watched videos of them saying goodbye to their families. I wanted to know why they had left their families to come to my country and why they believed as they did. I called the phone number they had left me and said, “Elders, I need to go to your church on Sunday.”
For two years, I attended church and met with the missionaries. My family, however, was not open to the Church. When I turned 18, I told my family I wanted to be baptized. I tried to share the gospel with them, but they were not ready.
In 2015, I was doing proxy baptisms in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. While I was there, a man asked me if I was preparing to serve a mission. I said I hoped to serve someday. Then he said, “I think you need to prepare to serve a mission and speak French.”
I thought to myself, “Why French? I’m from Brazil. How will I serve a French-speaking mission?” Nevertheless, because of that experience in the temple, I started studying French.
A few months later, I was at a bus terminal in São Paulo reading the Book of Mormon in French. When the woman next to me saw the book’s cover, she started speaking to me in French. I had been studying the language for only a few months, but I understood her perfectly!
To my surprise, she knew about the Book of Mormon because she had met the missionaries in Paris, where she lived. She asked me many questions about the Nephites and the Savior’s visit to the Americas. Inexplicably, I was able to speak to her as if I were speaking in my native language. I gladly gave her my Book of Mormon.
At the beginning of 2020, I went to England to study English through an exchange program. I met a girl there from Morocco. Her questions about why I didn’t drink alcohol led to a discussion about the Word of Wisdom, the Church, and the Book of Mormon. I showed her my Book of Mormon in French, and I was again able to answer questions about the gospel in French.
I realized that people need to know about the gospel and this special book in their own language and that I could use the Book of Mormon to be an instrument in God’s hands to help others.
Inaê Leandro (right) with one of her companions, Sister Wongsin Elisaia, while serving on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Later, when I opened my mission call, I learned I was going to Temple Square in Salt Lake City, speaking Portuguese.
“Really?” I thought. “Everyone there already knows about the Church, and they don’t even speak French in Utah.”
When I told my family, my father asked, “You are leaving your high school teaching job, your home, your career—everything—for a mission? How much will they pay you?” He was surprised when I told him I would pay for my mission myself.
At first, I didn’t know why I was called to Utah, but Heavenly Father knew where I needed to be. At Temple Square, I quickly learned that if you know 10 languages—or only 2 or 3—you can teach in all 10 languages there. My companions and I gave tours in Spanish, Portuguese, and English at Temple Square and at the Humanitarian Center at Welfare Square. We also taught online in different languages through the ComeuntoChrist.org website.
I have experienced the gift of tongues for myself. When we have the desire and the enthusiasm to learn a language, and if we work hard, God blesses us in miraculous ways that help us speak and understand.
“When we have the desire and the enthusiasm to learn a language, and if we work hard,” says Inaê, “God blesses us in ways that help us speak and understand.”
I love reading the Book of Mormon in other languages. Doing so helps my language skills and grows my testimony and understanding of gospel principles.
Whenever I called home on preparation day, I shared details about mission successes and experiences. I focused on what I had in common with family members, and they shared their travels and things that were happening at home. They even told me how they fed the full-time missionaries pizza because they had heard stories of nice people in Salt Lake City taking care of my companion and me.
It has been 16 years since my mother passed away. That was a difficult day, but I know that families can be eternal. I know I will see my mother again. I know she will recognize me as her daughter. Many people don’t have this knowledge.
That’s why I served a mission. That’s why I learned new languages. And that’s why I still try to help others find gospel answers for themselves.

Like him, many of us must learn to retain our faith in God’s justice and live worthy for blessings that do not come immediately. I remember a fine young man in Solingen, Germany, whom my companion and I taught diligently, fasted for, and prayed about. His parents originally denied him permission to be baptized, and he later lost interest in the Church. But thirteen years later, after the break-up of his marriage, he found the Church again; and when a business interview took him to Chicago he came on to Salt Lake City, and I had the immense joy of baptizing him.

“Meeting President Kimball—that made all the hard work more than worth it,” said 19-year-old Marianne Schmidt of the Ogden 65th Ward, South Ogden Utah Stake.
Marianne, who’s been blind since birth, met President Kimball after presenting the Young Women Presidency with the Personal Progress book that she translated into Braille. The project took Marianne over two years to complete, but she had help from a dedicated Young Women adviser, friends in her Young Women class, and friends from school.
“I thought it would be great for the young women who are blind to have a Personal Progress book where they could read their goals over and over,” said Marianne. “If the goals are written on paper, it’s easy to forget them when you’re blind.”
The initial translation took Marianne one year, and proofreading and making corrections took another year.
“It was discouraging at times because it was hard to juggle schedules to get people to read to me so I could translate. My hands would get tired from Brailling, and it’s funny, my eyes would too. I knew that it would be a difficult project, though. For this particular book, one page of print is about four pages of Braille.
“But I have always been determined to accomplish my goals. I’m majoring in elementary education at college, and some people think that I won’t be able to teach kindergarten. But I’ll prove to them that I can. Nobody knows what I can do except me, and I don’t think of myself as handicapped. The only thing that limits me is when people are afraid of me. When they’re not, I can do anything,” said Marianne.

“I went a little farther that time!” Lewis exclaimed, marking where he had landed with a stick. A new house was being built next door, and six-year-old Lewis loved playing in the big piles of dirt. He and his brother especially liked to jump off the top of a dirt pile to see who could go the farthest. Jumping was the next best thing to flying, and Lewis wanted more than anything to be able to fly. Not just to ride in a plane—he’d done that lots of times with his dad in a little four-seat airplane. He wanted to fly like a bird. He thought about it all the time.
Last Sunday, Sister Jones had taught a lesson in Primary about faith. She had said if you have enough faith, you can do anything—even move mountains! Lewis didn’t want to move a mountain—he wanted to fly over one. He believed Heavenly Father could help him do that just as easily.
Lewis didn’t hear the rest of the lesson that day because he was dreaming about his first flight. He knew exactly how it would be. He would jump off something very high and dive to the earth. Just before he hit the ground, he would spread his arms and glide above the earth, rising higher and higher. He could almost feel the wind in his hair and see the look of surprise on his brother’s face as he flew effortlessly over his head. Yes, it was going to be wonderful!
“Lewis,” Mom called from the house.
“Yes, Mom?” he replied from the top of the dirt pile.
“Grandma is here and wants to see you.”
Lewis jumped one more time, marked the spot where he landed, and rushed to the house. “Hi, Grandma. How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was great fun. I brought you something.” She held up a small wing-shaped pin she had received on her flight home.
“Wow! Thanks, Grandma!” He had wings! Now he knew he could fly. He pinned them to his shirt and ran outside to the dirt pile. Sure enough, he seemed to jump a little farther and a little higher. The problem, he thought, is that this hill is too small. If I could find something higher, I’m sure I could start to fly before I hit the ground.
The next day, Dad took Lewis to look at some new playground equipment, and Lewis saw the biggest jungle gym he’d ever seen. He grinned. Today was the day he was going to fly!
While his dad was busy talking to someone, Lewis pulled his pin out of his pocket and pinned the wings to his shirt. Then he raced over to the jungle gym. He climbed to the very top bar—about five meters from the ground—and yelled, “Watch this, Dad!” He jumped off, completely unafraid. On the way down, his leg caught on a bar and he crashed to the ground.
Lewis’s leg was broken, and his body was bruised and scratched.
“Are you feeling better now?” Dad asked on the way home from the hospital.
“Dad,” Lewis sobbed, “I don’t understand. My Primary teacher said if I have enough faith, I can do anything.”
“Lewis, you need to understand something about faith. The scriptures say that faith must be based in something that is true. If I believed with all my heart that the oceans were filled with spaghetti, it still wouldn’t be true. We can have faith in Jesus Christ because He really did come and die for us and He really does love you. We can have faith in the scriptures because the Lord really commanded the prophets to write them so we could learn about Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ and the scriptures are true. Can you see the difference?”
“I guess so.”
Dad continued, “There are also natural laws, like gravity, that are true. You will be able to fly someday, Lewis, but you have to do it using the natural laws of the earth. When you get a little older, you can learn how to fly an airplane. Now let’s go home and let that leg heal.”
Today Lewis is grown-up, and he flies high in the sky—as an airplane pilot.

Just a few months ago, I graduated from college. The day I put on the cap and gown, I felt excited, happy, grateful, and so incredibly nervous. I remember feeling confused and fearful of what lay ahead in my future. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when I was listening to a conference talk and thinking about what the speaker was saying that I felt the power of the Spirit. It was an overwhelming feeling of comfort and direction. I immediately wrote down in my journal the thoughts that were coming to me, and now I look to those words whenever I feel doubt. That journal entry has become a source of comfort for me because it feels as if it came straight from God.

I am a convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, having been baptized in my early 30s. But, when I was about five years old I had an experience that became a “defining moment”. I was outside with my mother. While she was hanging clothes on the clothesline, I was in the backyard swing, singing a song I’d learned in Sunday School.
“Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, we are weak, but He is strong.” I did not fully recognize all that was happening to me, but I literally felt His love. I began pumping and singing – harder and harder. “Yes, Jesus loves me, Yes, Jesus loves me, Yes, Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so.” I was so filled with His love for me, I felt I could do anything – even go all the way over the top of the swing if I pumped hard enough! That didn’t happen, but what did happen was much more significant: I felt Christ’s love and I knew He knew me. I hope you have felt the reality of His love and especially that you might experience it today and have it confirmed again and again.

I remember attending a stake conference not long ago and hearing a very cute example of receiving the promptings but not being obedient. After the morning session of the conference, we were having dinner at the stake president’s home. His counselors and their wives were there. One of the counselors was a rancher with a family of eight or nine children, as I recall, and his ranch was made up of many square miles. Before we sat down to eat his wife was kind of smiling because, she said, I had talked that day about being obedient to the promptings of the Spirit. She continued to smile and said: “Early in our married life, my husband was out on the ranch late one night, and he had a breakdown. So he knelt and prayed and asked Heavenly Father to let me know that he was having problems so I could go out and find him.”

And she did. He had prayed, and she, feeling the promptings of the Spirit, had gone out, gotten in the pickup, and found him broken down somewhere on the ranch. She continued:

That got to be kind of a thing with us. Over the next twenty years whenever he got in trouble, he would pray, and I would get the promptings, and would get in the car and go out to find him. While I was carrying our last baby, and I was about nine and one-half months pregnant [and that means you really are], and I was in my mid-forties. It was about ten-thirty at night, and I was seated waiting for either him or the baby, whichever came first, when I got the impression, “Your husband is in trouble; go out and help him.” I was just too big and too tired and too old, and I just couldn’t do it, so I said to the Lord, “You’ll just have to help him get home yourself.” Then at about one-thirty in the morning he came in, and he didn’t say, “Hi, honey,” or anything. He just came right to me and said, “What’s the matter? Didn’t you get my message?” I said, “Yes, but I just couldn’t come out, so I had the Lord do it for me.”

One of the great challenges of life is to live to receive the message and then to have the courage to obey it.

Two hundred and six miles (332 kilometers) is the distance from Logan, Utah, to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It’s also the distance Peter Johnson and his friends pedaled to win the relay division of the LOTOJA road cycling race, whizzing through mountain passes and three states in nine hours. LOTOJA (LOgan TO JAckson) is one of the longest single-day races in the United States. It draws some 1,500 cyclists each September, many of them pros. Peter’s relay team is the youngest ever to come in first.
It takes a lot of time and practice to win such a major competition. Why make the effort? For me, things like exercising and working out are fun. When you’re on a tough hill climb, you’re not necessarily thinking about how much fun you’re having. But afterward, there’s an awesome feeling of accomplishment that you only get from working hard. I like that.
Why is being physically active and staying fit important for you? I couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t include some sort of fitness. I love the feeling that I get knowing that even at the end of a long race or a hard soccer game, I could still go longer. Besides, who doesn’t want to be healthy?
You keep pretty busy. How do you balance sports, school, and seminary? Seminary has always been a priority for me. I have had to give up other classes in order to attend seminary, but I know that I am blessed when I do the right thing. A lot of the time school does conflict with sports, but you figure out ways to work through it.
How do you maintain your standards when people at school don’t always make the best choices? Most people at school know I’m an avid follower of my faith. So when it comes to parties, dating, and things like movies, they know where I stand and what they can expect from me. I take pride in living the standards of the Church, and as a result, my peers have come to respect me and my choices.
How has prayer helped you in your life? I have a strong testimony of prayer. The scriptures say to pray about everything (see 2 Nephi 32:9), so I constantly pray for help in school, sports, you name it. When it comes to cycling, I’m pretty sure I’ve never started a race without saying a prayer.

After my father had been on his mission about eighteen months, he had great concern that he would not be able to send his wife a present for her birthday. He was very sad about this and somewhat homesick. How he wished he had something to send home for this special occasion.
This is how my father told the story:
“I prayed earnestly that the way would be opened for me to be able to send a birthday present to my wife. As I fasted, I would especially mention this desire in my prayers.
“At that time we were tracting in a sparsely settled section on top of rolling hills in the Cumberland Mountains. The houses were scattered about two miles apart, and there was little travel in the area. The people living there were very poor.
“One day we were walking along a wagon road where it looked as if there had been almost no travel for months. As I looked down, there on the ground was a beautiful breastpin. It was pinned on a card as if it had just come from the manufacturer. It didn’t seem likely that anyone in that neighborhood could have afforded such an expensive-looking pin. When my companion saw it, he said, ‘This is the answer to your prayer.’
“We inquired at every home we visited during the next few days to see if the pin belonged to any of the people there, but no one knew of it. After we had determined that no one around had lost it, I secured a box and mailed the pin to my wife for her birthday.
“She, of course, was surprised to receive such a beautiful present and wondered how I had been able to afford it. She wore it until I returned home, and when I told her that I had received the pin in answer to prayer, she stopped wearing it for fear she might lose it.”
The pin is still in our family and reminds us of my father’s missionary experiences. It is one of our most treasured possessions.

My message centers on the importance in each of our lives of righteous friendships. In my youth, an inspired patriarch laid his hands on my head and by revelation opened to me an understanding of my potential—for who I really am—and gave a direction for my life, just like a patriarch has done for many of you. I was told that I would not lack for friends and associates, that their friendship would be a special blessing to me both temporally as well as spiritually. I was counseled to select for my closest friends those who were righteous and had a desire to keep the commandments of God.

That passage from my patriarchal blessing has been like a comfort blanket to me throughout my life. At times, especially while living away from home, those words have given me a peace and strength—my friends were standing by, although separated by many miles. And at such times I learned one of life’s most important lessons, that no matter how long I was away, no matter how great the distance, whenever my friends and I met again, it was as if nothing had changed. We picked up our lives where we left off, and it was as if time had stood still.

I am 23 years old and nine months old in the Church. Yesterday was my birthday. I celebrated it by baptizing my friend into the Church. This was my second chance to perform this ordinance. I baptized my younger brother a month after my own baptism.

Being a Mormon is the best thing in my entire life. I would like to express my gratitude to the missionaries who visited my country. They have helped me live a better, happier life.

I would also like to thank you, New Era, for the outstanding articles each month. They are really uplifting, especially when I read about young men being called to serve missions. The Spirit tells me more than ever to strive and work harder to become a good missionary next year. Thank you, New Era, for helping me strengthen my testimony.

My appreciation for the temple has increased over the years as well. What used to feel like a duty now feels like a joy. I will be honest with you. When I returned from my mission, I learned an important skill that helped me to succeed in school. It was the skill of planning and completing a task list. I applied that same mentality to temple attendance.

In other words, my temple attendance became a task—just one more thing on a list of things to do. When I approached temple service in that manner, it felt more like a duty and almost a burden. But gradually my heart changed and instead of simply checking off another to-do item on a list, I went to the temple to draw closer to Christ. When that happened, the feeling of duty and burden transformed into a feeling of overwhelming joy.

In the temple I began to know my Savior as someone who, because of His love for His Father, was willing to suffer the ultimate and unimaginable sacrifice. I had served a mission and thought I knew the gospel of Jesus Christ. But in the temple endowment instruction, I finally began to feel the gospel of Jesus Christ and His infinite love for the Father and for me. That love is so binding and strong that as I turn to Him, it is sufficient to bring me back to the Father.

In January of 2019, I witnessed President Nelson’s visit to Paradise, California, after a devastating fire claimed more than 18,000 structures. The town was reduced to ashes. Yet, just before President Nelson was scheduled to leave for Paradise, his daughter lost her battle with cancer. We were not sure he would make the trip. But after spending time with his family, he and Sister Nelson boarded a plane.

When I had the opportunity to ask him one question during the trip, I simply said, “Why did you come.” President Nelson’s response was beautiful in its simplicity. “We mourn the loss of our second daughter,” he said. “Fathers can’t [lose a child] without feeling a deep sense of grief. And yet there is nothing we would rather do than to try to be of help to others.” [36]

To this day it is hard for me to describe the devotional where he comforted members who lost their homes and businesses and community. They were desperate for hope and President Nelson promised them peace. “Your hope, your joy, and your future will all be shaped by your faith in God and by your faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,” he said.

After his address, as President Nelson walked down the aisle of the stake center, a 12-year-old girl waited to shake his hand. However, just before he reached her, she was jostled out of the way by other eager members. She expressed her lament and her doubt as she cried to her mother a few minutes later in the foyer. “That always happens to me,” she said. The young woman’s family waited outside the meetinghouse with a crowd of other members to wave goodbye to President Nelson. The Prophet walked through the crowd to his car. But — just as he did in Vietnam — he paused, singled her out of the crowd and sent a member of Church security to bring her to him. [37]

It was a miracle. The God who prevails had connected a Prophet mourning his daughter and a daughter eager to be seen.

My wife and I are serving our second senior mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We received our call to serve in August of 2023 as Area communication missionaries in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. We both had the privilege of serving previously in the Utah Salt City Headquarters Mission from 2017 to 2019. with our previous spouses.
While serving missions for the Church, missionaries are all asked to wear a black badge with the full name of the Church and the missionary’s name on it. In August 1980, the Church approved the standardized badge worn by its missionaries. Today, the badge is recognized worldwide and identifies men and women, both young and old, full-time and part-time, serving among the Church’s nearly 100,000 missionaries. While the badges themselves have no inherent power, they represent the covenants made with God by the wearer that he or she will “serve him with all [their] heart, might, mind and strength” (Doctrine and Covenants 4:2). The missionary badges help to bring unity of purpose to those who wear them.
Consistent with this principle, in the dedicatory prayer offered at the Kirtland Temple on March 27, 1836, the Prophet Joseph Smith asked that from the power endowed to the servants of God in the temple, the Lord’s glory would come upon them. “And we ask thee, Holy Father, that thy servants may go forth from this house armed with thy power, and that thy name may be upon them, and thy glory be round about them, and thine angels have charge over them;” (Doctrine and Covenants 109:22).
The unity and success in spreading the restored gospel is a fulfillment of this prophetic petition.
While serving in the headquarters mission in downtown Salt Lake City, both my wife and I noticed the many knowing glances from people on the street when they saw missionaries. Hearts softened, subtle smiles came on strangers’ faces, and many members and friends of the Church would approach the missionaries to ask, “Where are you from?” or “Where are you serving?” These were asked with a sincere interest and allowed for easy conversations about service and families. Such is the power of the badge.
As we prepared for our mission to the Caribbean Area, there were many forms to fill out, purchases to make, medical checks, and visa challenges to overcome. As we went through all these important steps, I opened a drawer I used to keep memories and found a zip-lock bag with quite a collection of badges I used on my first senior mission. Some were mission-specific, and others were assignment-specific. Memories flowed back over the years of service these badges represented and the many life-changing incidents that mission service had provided me from my first mission in the late ’60s and as a senior missionary. This event had a powerful impact and showed me that the symbolic power of the badge is not limited to when it is worn but also as a remembrance of past service rendered.
With all the preparations completed, all the shopping, talks, and goodbyes with dear friends and family, my wife and I headed for the security check at the Salt Lake City International Airport with our badges prominently displayed. A nice woman just behind us in line asked the question, “Where are you serving?” As we passed through the security checkpoint, we couldn’t help but notice the subtle glances and smiles that came from the security supervisors in their elevated booth as we walked past.
While waiting for our connecting flight in Atlanta, we were approached by a government contractor who was establishing a military support facility in southern Utah and who was a member of our Church. He asked us the same questions. He was a tough, military-trained man who reached out in the most tender of ways to two servants on their way to their assignment.
And so, our mission started with the blessing of having the power of the badge.

On another island, this one called, Niuatoputapu (which means ‘sacred island’) on another typical day, another experience forever changed me.
My Tongan companion, different from the first, and I came through the thick jungle from the village of Vaipoa, where we lived in the middle of the island and into one of the only other two villages on the island, called Falehau.
A large crowd was gathered around the thatched fale or hut where a Missionary Branch President, who had been called to serve on this island, with his wife, and their two children, were staying.
The younger of the two children, a son, about 6 or 7 years old had been playing with a friend. When he became thirsty he rushed into their home and grabbed a bottle from the corner, of what he thought was water. In Tonga at the time, it was common to store a variety of liquids in brown-colored glass bottles. There might be water, soda pop, kerosene or benzene.
The son thought he grabbed the bottle with water in it. In his hurry to rejoin his friend he gulped down the liquid from the bottle. It turned out to be benzene. He ingested so much, in fact, that he almost immediately went into convulsions.
When my companion and I arrived the boy’s father, this Missionary Branch President, was sitting crossed-legged on the ground and was just starting to lay his son’s twisting and turning body on his lap. The mother was close by with an agonized expression on her face. She had her arm around the boy’s older sister, whose face was naturally filled with concern.
There were maybe 50-60 people from the village already gathered around and more were running to the scene.
As the father held tightly to his son, a strong athletic looking man nearby said, loudly enough to be heard by all, “What a blessing from God. The government doctor is still here. Let’s hurry to get him!”
A Tongan government boat had been in port for a few days. A doctor employed by the government had been on board for his semi-annual trip to the island. He had treated a number of villagers for various ailments during his brief stay. He was now on board the boat just beyond the reef that circled the island. The captain of the tug-like boat was just preparing to return to the capital city of Nuku’alofa, which was a long journey away.
As the man rushed to the beach, two other men joined him and the three of them began to push an old and scarred wooden canoe into the water with the intent of paddling out to the government boat to bring the doctor back, so he could help this poor little boy who all could see was suffering in a terrible way.
Just as the first of the three men climbed into the canoe, the father called to them, “Please, please come back!” Hesitatingly, the three men paused and then started to come back, all with puzzled looks on their faces. One anxiously exclaimed, “We have to hurry or we will miss the doctor! The boat is ready to leave!” As he said this, the three men started back towards the canoe once again.
And once again, the father called to them, “Please come back!” As they hesitated they seemed completely bewildered, as did the rest of the villagers who were gathered there.
Finally, the father declared in a steady, almost peaceful voice, “There will be no need for the government doctor today, for we will call upon the Master Doctor to bring the needed healing!”
Everyone stood in stunned silence as this father and missionary, with what appeared to be a dying son still on his lap, began to teach them. He spoke of the Savior, Jesus Christ, who had lived a sinless life and who had taught us all how to live. He spoke of the mighty miracles Christ had performed. He spoke of the atoning sacrifice of the Savior and how that sacrifice made it possible for us all to repent and to return to the presence of God the Father one day.
As the father spoke, as he taught under the influence of the spirit, there was a look of utter astonishment that settled over the gathered villagers. There was an obvious worsening of the son’s condition, for now he was turning a horrible shade of purple and was struggling to even breathe, yet the father taught on!
He spoke of the Priesthood, bestowed by Jesus upon those worthy to act in His name. He spoke about Priesthood power, God’s power, which when united with faith could do all things that were in accordance with the will of God the Father. He described how he would use that power, in the name of Jesus Christ, to heal his son.
He then placed his hands upon his son’s head, who now looked as though he was already beginning the journey through the veil to the other side, but by the power of the Priesthood he held and in the name of Jesus Christ the boy’s father blessed his son to be healed from the suffering, from the malady, from the poison ingested and from any lasting effects of the same.
The son’s face immediately began to return to its normal color and his breathing with it. He now lay on his father’s lap as if peacefully asleep. In a moment, his eyes opened. He looked into his father’s face, reached up and gave him a big hug. He then looked around and saw the entire village gathered together, with eyes wide open, many with tears rolling down their cheeks. The boy got a surprised look on his face, like he didn’t understand what was happening, but he spotted his friend, with whom he had been earlier playing, in the crowd, jumped off his father’s lap, ran to his friend, grabbed his friend’s hand and the two of them went off to play once more.
The villagers marveled at the scene. Then they all looked back at the father. In a calm and inviting voice, while still seated on the ground, he acknowledged before them God’s bounteous blessings and gave credit to Jesus Christ for the healing of his son. He reminded them that he was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and that he had been sent to them, to this village, on this island, to share with them the message of that Jesus.
During the ensuing months, many listened and a number were baptized. These were the first baptisms on that island, if my memory serves me well, in over 10 years.
As I talked with this missionary father and his family following what was for me a life-changing experience, I found myself asking about how he did what he did. How was he able to be so composed when his son’s life was clearly at risk? How was he able to so patiently teach the people of the village while his son’s condition was growing worse and worse by the minute? How was he able to be so confident that his son would, in fact, be healed?
He responded to my questions with a series of questions of his own: Are we not missionaries? Was this not a wonderful opportunity to teach the gospel to those who might otherwise be unwilling to listen? Was this not a unique opportunity to help them understand and even witness the power of the Priesthood? Was this not a special opportunity to help them understand that Jesus really is the Christ and that His Church is in reality here on the earth today? Was this not an appropriate way to help them begin to partake of the blessings now that can come only from and through the gospel of Jesus Christ?
And finally, to me his most penetrating question, “Do not the scriptures teach us, ‘Ask and ye shall receive?’”
For him, it was clear, there was nothing more natural than to do what he did in the way he did it! He concluded one of our conversations with, “All I do is ask and the Lord answers!”

Years ago, I arrived home from work and was startled to see white paint splattered everywhere—on the ground, the garage door, and our red-brick house. I inspected the scene more closely and discovered the paint was still wet. A trail of paint led toward the backyard, and so I followed it. There, I found my five-year-old son with a paintbrush in his hand, chasing our dog. Our beautiful black Labrador was splattered almost half white!
“What are you doing?” I asked in an animated voice.
My son stopped, looked at me, looked at the dog, looked at the paintbrush dripping with paint, and said, “I just want him to look like the black-spotted dogs in the movie—you know, the one with 101 Dalmatians.”
I loved our dog. I thought he was perfect, but that day my son had a different idea.