Gospel Story Finder

Thirty years ago, while I served as a missionary in the Near East, my companion and I were assigned to visit a branch that had been torn apart by apostasy. We approached our assignment humbly and prayerfully. A crucial meeting was scheduled involving the disaffected parties. After we had fasted and prayed earnestly, my companion stood with confidence and spoke with the tongue of an angel. That young, inexperienced elder’s words healed wounds festering in the hearts of men much older than he, prompted confessions, and literally saved a branch of the church.

Kate walked into the kitchen and saw Mom rolling out dough.
“I’m making Easter rolls,” Mom said. “Want to help?”
“Yes!” said Kate. She wondered what Easter rolls would look like. Would they be shaped like bunnies? Or colored eggs? Kate ran to the counter and looked at the bowl of marshmallows Mom had set by the dough. Were they going to decorate the rolls with marshmallows?
Mom showed Kate how to wrap a square of dough around a marshmallow and dip the roll in butter and cinnamon sugar.
Kate picked up her own piece of dough and a marshmallow. It would probably taste delicious, but what did it have to do with Easter?
“Today is the Friday before Easter,” Mom said as she dipped a wrapped-up marshmallow in the melted butter. “Many people call it Good Friday.”
“Why?” Kate asked.
“Because it’s the day Jesus Christ showed how much He loves us. He suffered and died for our sins. Because of what He did, we can repent and be forgiven.”
Mom handed Kate a marshmallow to eat. “That’s why we can live with Heavenly Father again someday. So today really is a ‘good Friday,’ don’t you think?”
Kate nodded as she dipped her last roll in cinnamon sugar. “Done!”
“Now we have to let these rise,” Mom said. She put plastic wrap over the stuffed rolls and slid them into the fridge. “After Jesus died, His body was put in the tomb, and His spirit went to heaven. Do you know what happened then?”
“He visited people in the spirit world?” Kate asked.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Then, on Sunday morning after He died …”
“He came alive again!” said Kate.
“Yes!” said Mom. “It’s called the Resurrection. Women visited Jesus’s tomb and found it empty. Angels told them, ‘He is not here: for He is risen.’ Because of that, all of us will live again after we die.”
Kate helped Mom wipe sugar and flour from the counter. “Each of the rolls we made is like a little tomb,” Mom said. “And on Easter Sunday, we’ll bake them.”
Kate wondered how they would turn out. She could hardly wait to eat one!
On Sunday morning Kate woke up to the smell of cinnamon baking. She hurried to the kitchen just in time to see Mom pull a tray of rolls out of the oven.
“Remember how we filled these?” Mom asked as she handed Kate a warm roll. “Break it open and take a look!”
Kate broke open her roll and looked inside. “It’s empty!”
“Just like the tomb on Easter morning,” Mom said. “Always remember that Jesus lives. And He loves you.”
Kate took a big bite out of her roll. She was grateful for Mom and this tasty treat, grateful for Jesus, and grateful for Easter morning!

I enjoyed reading the New Era in high school, but in some ways it made me feel discouraged and inadequate. It was always telling stories about talented youth, and I thought I could never be like them.
It seemed I wasn’t talented in anything. I was uncoordinated and bad at sports. I was extremely shy and self-conscious, and I was made fun of in school, often because of my high standards. I did make pretty good grades—mainly because I worked hard at it.
I figured that maybe there was still something I could do, even if I couldn’t be a real star like the people highlighted in the magazine. I read the scriptures about loving others and decided I would try to do that.
One day as I came out of Mutual class, I saw a girl standing at the end of the hall. She was slouched over. The thought came to me that this girl needed a friend, so I walked over and started talking to her. More accurately, I started listening to her. She talked very softly, but I showed interest in what she had to say.
We were friends from then on. She was four years younger than I was, and she was not a member of the Church; her neighbors had started bringing her to Church. A few months later, I was able to go to her baptism. She was 13 years old and the only member in her family.
I made friends with other people too. Sometimes I would think that a person wouldn’t want to be friends with me, but I found that these people seemed happy to have someone who cared about them.
When it was time to graduate, our high school had an awards assembly to honor students’ achievements. My name was not called, but my friend who had gotten baptized made a little award for me and had my friends sign it. I felt I had really achieved something too.
I also realized that everyone has their place and purpose in this world. I know that those talented and popular people had an influence on others. But perhaps if I had been very talented or very popular, I might have been too busy for my new friends, and those friendships have become rich treasures to me.

The value of service in the Church was of equal worth to me as the years I spent in getting an education. I remember early in my business career I was given a great opportunity with a retail firm. It was a great opportunity. Of course, immediately following World War II, employment opportunities were easy to find. Businesses were starting to fill their executive ranks after years of personnel shortages as men and women who had been engaged in the war effort were returning home. After six months with the firm as an internal auditor, I was promoted to controller of one of their units. I was poorly prepared for such a promotion. I left my wife and two little children where we were then living to sell our home, and I set out on my new assignment.

The work was challenging and difficult. It was more than I could handle during the normal working day. I found myself often working through the night, catching an occasional nap at my desk, to keep going as the night progressed. In fact, it turned out to be almost every other night that I would remain in the office.

In a couple of weeks our home sold, and I arranged to drive back to pick up my family and bring them to our new residence. After getting my family settled, I let my wife know what my work schedule was. Needless to say, she wasn’t very happy with the arrangement and the burden she had at home with two small children. She wanted some assistance there. I tried to explain how burdened I was at the office and that it wouldn’t last forever.

After just a few days of having the family together again, I was home having dinner one evening expecting to go back to the office. A car pulled up in front of our apartment. A man came to the door and introduced himself as a member of our stake presidency. He invited me to come out and visit with him in his car. As we approached the car, I could see a counselor from our bishopric seated in the front seat. Inside the car, it was explained to me that they were reorganizing the bishopric of our ward on the next Sunday, and the counselor was to become the new bishop. He turned to me and called me to become his second counselor.

I paused for some time before responding, wondering how I could take on any more in my life. However, the example and training I had received in my home as I was growing up fortified and strengthened me, and I agreed to serve. It turned out to be one of the great blessings of my life. This new bishop taught me the art of delegation and how to organize my time much better. My life became almost normal once again, which, of course, pleased my wife and family.

This was followed by service in two bishoprics, two high councils, two stake presidencies, and finally as a stake president before being called to serve as a General Authority in Salt Lake. Church service is the best schoolmaster I know to teach human relations, a quality I believe is essential to all who want to succeed. It is difficult to stay even with the Lord. The more you give, the greater will be your blessings.

Sister Julie B. Beck, who was the 15th general president of the Relief Society from 2007 to 2012. I was serving as the Stake Relief Society President in the BYUH Married Stake at that time and heard her share this story.

“My parents, who had been my neighbors, announced that they would be moving to another part of the world. I had relied on my mother’s nurturing, wise, and encouraging example. Now she was going to be gone for a long time. This was before e-mail, fax machines, cell phones, and Web cameras, and mail delivery was notoriously slow. One day before she left, I sat weeping with her and asked, “Who will be my mother?” Mother thought carefully, and with the Spirit and power of revelation which comes to women of this kind, she said to me, “If I never come back, if you never see me again, if I’m never able to teach you another thing, you tie yourself to Relief Society. Relief Society will be your mother.
Three different women held the calling of Relief Society president in my wards during the years my parents were away. Alta Chamberlain invited me to teach time management and home organization to the other sisters, perhaps because she saw that I needed to improve those skills. Jeanne Horne encouraged me to complete my first serious personal study of the Book of Mormon. Norma Healey gave me my first assignments at the cannery and taught me much about service. These wonderful women understood the purpose of Relief Society.
Mother knew that if I was sick, the sisters would take care of me, and when I had my babies, they would help me. But my mother’s greatest hope was that the sisters in Relief Society would be powerful, spiritual leaders for me. I began from that time to learn abundantly from women of stature and faith.”

As a teenager, Sister Kalombo Rosette Kamwanya from the D.R. Congo, now serving in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission, fasted and prayed for three days to find the direction God wanted her to take. In a remarkable night vision, she was shown two buildings, a chapel and what she now realizes was a temple. She began to search and soon found the chapel she had seen in her dream. The sign said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Sister Kamwanya was baptized and then her mother and her six brothers. Sister Kamwanya said, “When I received the gospel, I felt like a captured bird that had been liberated. My heart was filled with joy. … I had the assurance that God loves me.”

Just as a little child starts to develop a sense of identity as he or she repeatedly hears a name, I believe our names are important to our identity always. As a young mother I returned to take a class from the university I had previously attended and found naturally that things were very much changed from the time when I had begun my studies. I didn’t know anyone. One day one of my past professors came into the room, noticed me, and said, “Janette Callister, how nice to see you.” She turned to my current professor and said she remembered me as a good student. I still remember the good feeling I had that somebody really knew me and remembered me for good.

It seemed like any other basketball game as I coached the Young Women’s team of our ward in the Lakewood Colorado Stake. Little did I know I was about to witness a powerful example of Christlike love on the court.
On the opposing team was a young woman named Nicole. Nicole is well known by the girls in the stake. She is a very loving and caring person. She also has Down’s syndrome.
On our team was a very competitive athlete named Kayla. Kayla excels in sports in high school. She also has a tremendous love and knowledge of the scriptures and is rarely seen without them.
During the second half of the game, I witnessed an event that made a powerful impact on everyone attending. Nicole received a pass from her teammate. She took a shot at the basket and missed. Kayla, who was not on Nicole’s team, rebounded and passed the ball back to Nicole. Nicole again shot and missed.
All of the other players stood still as Kayla continued to rebound Nicole’s missed shots and return the ball to Nicole. Finally, after the ninth try, Nicole made a basket. Everyone rose to their feet, and the whole gym erupted in cheers, hugs, and high fives. Nicole grinned ear to ear.
Much more important than the score that night was watching someone help another to succeed. That night Kayla truly demonstrated how “to stand as [a witness] of God, at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9).

Study the words of President David O. McKay, who tells of how, in his youth, he knelt and “prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster” that “God would declare to [him] the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith.”
President McKay related that when he arose from his knees, he had to admit that “no spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say that I am just the same [boy] that I was before I prayed.”
I don’t know how young David felt in his heart at that time, but I’m sure he must have been disappointed—perhaps frustrated that he didn’t receive the spiritual experience that he had hoped for. But that didn’t discourage him from continuing his search for that knowledge.
The answer to his prayers did come, but not until years later, when he was serving as a missionary. Why was the answer to his prayer so long delayed? President McKay believed that this spiritual manifestation “came as a natural sequence to the performance of duty.”

I would like to share with you a story of my home life and my growing up years. To set the stage, you need to know that I am the youngest of three children. In fact, my siblings and I were separated in age by several years, so by the time I was a teenager, my parents had been married for several years and were well-seasoned in this thing called marriage. Growing up, I had never seen my parents argue or even raise their voices at each other, so you can imagine how I felt the first time my husband and I had a disagreement. Thoughts crossed my mind that I must be a poor wife, or that I may have picked the wrong guy to spend eternity with. After all, I was sure I was right and he was wrong.

It was not until later in life when I spent some tender time with my mother. This is when I learned how mad my dad had been when mom cut her long hair off. She said he wouldn’t even talk to her for days. I also came to the realization that all those times when my mom would go missing and I would find her sitting in an idle car out in the garage, this was her time spent communicating with her Father in Heaven, praying that He would help her get through those less than perfect days. It was then that I realized what I had hoped for at the beginning of my marriage was something my mother and father had worked many, many years to develop.

You may ask, “Do such things occur even today?” Let me share with you the beautiful account of a grandmother and a grandfather now serving a mission and the manner in which their little grandson was blessed. The missionary grandfather wrote:

“My wife, Deanna, and I are now serving a mission in Jackson, Ohio. One of our big concerns as we accepted a mission call was our family. We would not be there when they had problems.

“Just before we went on our mission, our grandson R. J., who was two-and-a-half years old, had to have surgery to correct a crossed eye. His mother asked me to go with them because R. J. and I are real buddies. The operation went well, but R. J. did cry before and after the surgery because none of the family could go into the operating room, and he was afraid.

“About six months later, while we were still on our mission, R. J. needed the other eye corrected. His mother phoned and expressed her desire for me to be there to go with them for the second operation. Of course, distance and the mission prevented me from being with him. Deanna and I fasted and prayed for the Lord to comfort our grandson during his operation.

“We called shortly after the surgery was over and found that R. J. had remembered the previous experience and did not want to leave his parents. But as soon as he entered the operating room, he quieted down. He lay down on the operating table, took off his glasses for them, and went through the operation with a calm spirit. We were very thankful; our prayers had been answered.

“A couple of days later, we called our daughter and asked about R. J. He was doing fine, and she related this incident to us: In the afternoon after the operation, R. J. awakened and told his mother that Grandpa was there during the operation. He said, ‘Grandpa was there and made it all right.’ You see, the Lord made the anesthesiologist appear to that little boy as though he were his grandpa, but his grandpa and grandma were on a mission 1,800 miles away.”

Grandpa may not have been by your bedside, R. J., but you were in his prayers and in his thoughts. You were cradled in the hand of the Lord and blessed by the Father of us all.

When I was 11 years old, my father died, and at his funeral I was very touched as I heard the people speaking about what a kind man he had been. At the cemetery as they were lowering the casket down in the grave and starting to throw those shovels full of dirt and rocks down on the casket, I stood watching, thinking he was my hero, and I wondered what would ever happen to me having lost my father. I saw good men exercising the priesthood and doing what was right—the men who had helped in digging the grave and taking care of things—and I saw a good man push a five-dollar bill back into the hands of my mother, who had offered him some money for helping to dig the grave. He pushed that money back towards my mother and said, “No, you keep it because you will need this later on.” And so, I would like to declare to all of you in these assemblies tonight, in the Aaronic Priesthood and the Melchizedek Priesthood, isn’t it interesting in the wisdom of our Heavenly Father and His Son, in putting all of these things together, how in the lesser priesthood we learn to do the temporal chores? We’ll have temporal duties, learning in a humble, simple way those things that need to be done. This will teach us of service and of living the commandments of the Lord, preparing us so that we someday will be advanced to the Melchizedek Priesthood, with all of the majesty and the eternal glory that that entails.

The stadium lights illuminated the morning fog like specters from some 1960s horror movie. Under them, Emma marched robotlike and fingered the keys of her clarinet, missing notes repeatedly until the student conductor shouted her name. She wanted to cry. How could one conversation have turned her world so completely upside down?
That conversation had happened only moments before in the band room when Skylar, a senior and awesome flutist, had plopped her instrument case on the counter beside Emma. Although each girl played in the varsity band, they were two grades apart and seldom spoke to one another. But the room was unusually quiet this foggy morning, and the hand-drawn “What would Jesus do?” design taped on Skylar’s case begged Emma’s comment. “Did you draw that? It’s nice.”
“Thanks,” Skylar said, unsnapping her case.
“I don’t suppose you have a copy. I’d love to scan it.”
Skylar shook her head, obviously embarrassed at the flattery. Then she fell quiet and looked intently at Emma until Emma felt embarrassed. “What’s wrong?” Emma asked.
“Nothing. It’s just that, well, I heard you’re a Mormon.”
Emma sighed and nodded, wondering what was to come next. She opened a new reed.
Skylar said, “Can I show you something?”
Emma shrugged. “Sure.”
Skylar surprised Emma by pulling a Bible from her backpack. “My youth group meets tonight,” Skylar said. “I’m assigned the reading but haven’t decided on a verse yet. That’s why I have this.” She held up the Bible. “Anyway, one Sunday my youth minister showed this passage to me. I’ve wanted to share it with you, but it’s weird talking about religion at school.”
Emma chuckled. “Yeah, I go to a seminary class at six in the morning. I don’t mention it much here either.”
Skylar nodded and opened her Bible. “You ever read Revelation 22:18–19? Most people haven’t because it’s at the end of the Bible.” She shrugged. “Guess they don’t get that far.”
Emma chuckled as she received the book.
“Will you read it out loud?”
Emma glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying attention, so she began reading:
“For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book, If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book:
“And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life.”
As she read, Emma’s forehead creased hard. Why was Skylar sharing this particular passage with her?
“Do you know what it means?” Skylar asked, breathing deeply. “My youth minister says it means that anyone who adds anything to or takes anything away from the Bible will be condemned.” Skylar’s voice was shaking. “It’s so important that the Apostle John concluded the Bible with it.”
Emma said cautiously, “That makes sense.” She put her reed in her mouth.
Skylar gulped. “Your Joseph Smith added to the Bible, didn’t he? Isn’t that what your church teaches? That the Book of Mormon is additional scripture?”
Emma said nothing; she felt confused. She closed her instrument case. Mr. Bets shouted for everyone to move outside, now! Emma hurriedly fastened the reed to her clarinet.
“I don’t mean to offend you, really, but my youth minister says that, as a Christian, it’s my duty to warn you,” Skylar said. “If you don’t forsake Mormonism, you’ll be damned.”
Emma’s face flushed.
“Hurry!” Mr. Bets called.
Emma may have walked away from Skylar, out into the morning fog, but she couldn’t walk away from the questions Skylar had planted in her mind. As she lined up, she wondered, Was Skylar right? Hadn’t Joseph Smith added to the Bible? On cue, she’d marched 20 steps to the right. What if he’d made up the Book of Mormon? What if it was all a lie? These and similar questions had scorched her mind throughout drills, and when the conductor finally ended practice, Emma rushed toward the band room, hoping to get away from Skylar. She felt half ashamed for doubting and half filled with fear that her doubts were correct.
Skylar joined Emma in the crowded band room though Emma tried to ignore her. Skylar said, “My youth group is meeting at our minister’s tonight. We’ll shoot pool and listen to CDs. He’d like to meet you.”
Emma threw away her reed. It was Wednesday. The Mia Maids would be collecting used children’s videos from ward members for a local shelter.
“I can pick you up.”
Emma snapped her instrument case. “Thanks, but I’ve got something at my own church,” Emma turned. “My parents make me go.” She blushed. Why did I add that? she thought.
Skylar hummed sympathetically. “My youth minister’s got a book about Mormonism that I think you should read. I’ll bring it tomorrow, okay?”
Emma gazed at Skylar. Revelation 22:18–19 had seemed so plain. No one should add to the Bible, and there was no denying that the Church teaches that the Book of Mormon is additional scripture. Emma hurt, thinking of the implication. All she wanted was to know the truth. Maybe the minister’s book had it.
“Okay,” she said. But agreeing to read the minister’s book didn’t calm Emma’s worries. Throughout the day, troubling questions buzzed in her brain. The day dragged, but finally the seventh period bell rang. She turned in her French test but was in no hurry to leave. She waited until the other students had filed out. She dreaded seeing her family, dreaded going to Mutual later that night. She didn’t want to be around any Latter-day Saints. What would they think of her if they knew her doubts? They’d all try to talk to her, tell her to have faith. But faith in what? In the Book of Mormon? How could she have faith in something she wasn’t sure was true? Emma’s head ached and her stomach felt empty. It was a long walk home.
She entered the kitchen and found her mother baking. “Mindy sent another letter,” she announced, but Emma ignored her and headed toward the staircase. “She included a paragraph in French just for you and …”
“I’m busy, Mom. I’ve got homework, you know.” Emma hurried toward the stairs. She wanted time to think.
Her mother stared silently at her.
Emma trudged upstairs, closed the door, then threw herself onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Why should she read what her missionary sister had written? It was always the same: her testimony of this, her testimony of that. What did Mindy know about anything anyway? She always did exactly what Mom and Dad wanted.
Emma shook her head and rolled to her side. Why does everyone think they have all the answers? Mindy, Mom, Dad, all are sure the Church is true. She looked at her scriptures on the nightstand. Skylar and her youth minister swear it isn’t. She snatched up the Bible and opened to Revelation 22. “If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues …” Her head fell against the wall.
I should talk to Mom, she told herself, ask her about this passage. I should walk right downstairs and say, “Mom, what about this?” But she couldn’t. She lowered the Bible onto the mattress and pulled a pillow over her face. She already knew what her mom would say: “Pray, dear, trust the Lord, and He’ll answer you.” But I’ve been praying all my life, and I still don’t have a testimony! she thought. Maybe God hasn’t given me a testimony because the Book of Mormon isn’t true.
Suddenly her brother Brady’s nasal voice shouted, “Mom, Emma’s crying again!”
Emma threw the pillow toward the closed door, but it was too late. Her mother was in her room in no time. She eased herself down beside Emma. “Want to talk?”
Emma shook her head. She was afraid.
Her mother stroked her hair. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t …” She stopped. Emma saw her glance at the open Bible, pick it up, and read. She pointed to the last verses. “Is this what’s bothering you?”
Emma’s shoulders tightened.
Her mother said thoughtfully, “When I was investigating the Church, my minister showed this passage to me. He thought it would convince me not to believe in the Book of Mormon.” She paused. “Did someone show this to you?”
Emma hesitated; then words spilled from her mouth. “Mom, it plainly says that man shouldn’t add anything to the Bible. Joseph Smith did!”
Her mother leaned back thoughtfully, then said, “Many people interpret it that way. When the minister showed it to me, my first reaction was that Mormonism had to be wrong. I told the missionaries to forget about baptizing me.” She chuckled. “But they showed me something.”
Emma’s mother pointed to a footnote, “This reference.” She flipped to the Old Testament.
Emma sat upright, a vein of hope rising within her. Her mother began to read Deuteronomy 4:2: “Ye shall not add unto the word which I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought from it.”
Emma burst out, “It says the same thing! Skylar’s right.”
“No, Emma, think. Who wrote Deuteronomy?”
“I don’t know!”
“Moses. And he wrote long before John wrote Revelation. Just like John wrote long before Joseph Smith.”
“So?”
“So if you use your friend’s logic, every scripture recorded after Moses wrote Deuteronomy would have to be false because in Deuteronomy God said no one should add to His word.”
Emma blinked.
“But we have the rest of the Bible because other prophets understood that Moses only meant people shouldn’t add to this book, to Deuteronomy. And John only meant that nothing should be added to the book of Revelation.”
Emma stared. Her mother was actually making sense. She wiped away a tear.
“This may say that man shouldn’t add to scripture, but, Emma, where does it say that God won’t?”
Her mother’s words sent a tingling sensation through Emma as they sank into her soul. She reread the passage and looked up in wonder. “It doesn’t say God won’t give any more revelation, does it?”
Her mother shook her head. “And it says not to reject any of God’s words.”
“Including the Book of Mormon!”
“Right.” Her mother hugged her. “Having doubts is a normal part of the testimony-building process. It’s natural to question before you understand. Share your questions because you never know how Heavenly Father will send His answers. Sometimes He even uses mothers.”
Emma grinned.
Her mother rose. “Now, that homework, young lady.”
Emma reached for her backpack, then grimaced. “I forgot. Skylar’s bringing me a book about Mormonism tomorrow.”
Her mother paused at the door. “It won’t be kind, and it will probably use the same kind of logic that led them to misunderstand that scripture in Revelation.”
Emma nodded. “I won’t take it. I don’t need to seek doubts.”
“I agree that would be the best. Dinner will be early.” Her mother pulled Mindy’s letter from her pocket and left it on the dresser.
After the door shut, Emma retrieved the letter. Out fell a snapshot of her missionary sister standing before the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. Emma’s gaze traveled to the Book of Mormon on her nightstand. A grin blossomed. “I wonder if Skylar would like to read a book that really explains Mormonism!”

Pocahontas, the beautiful Indian princess, was excited as she waited for her carriage. She and her husband, John Rolfe, were in England. It was Christmas, and they were going to a Christmas party at Windsor Castle. Pocahontas wondered if the lords and ladies would like her.
She was dressed in a red silk dress covered with a velvet cape. The freshwater pearls that her father had given her when she was married in Virginia circled her neck. “Do I look all right?” she asked her husband.
“You are the most beautiful princess in the world!” he told her. His smile was tender.
“But will the lords and ladies like me?” she asked.
“Don’t forget,” he reminded her, “that you, too, are a lady, now that His Majesty has given you the title Lady Rebecca. You, too, are of the court, and they will respect you for that. And they will like you because you are a dear person.”
The carriage stopped, and the gates of Windsor Castle were flung open. The carriage went on a short distance, then rocked to another stop. The footman opened the carriage door and held out his hand to assist Lady Rebecca.
Inside the castle the rooms glowed with thousands of candle flames in crystal chandeliers. Everyone was dressed in silks and laces.
As Pocahontas stood in the entryway with John, she heard two ladies whispering behind their fans. Perhaps they do not realize that their voices carry in this great hall as voices sometimes carry in my beloved forest in Virginia, thought Pocahontas. She heard the lady in lavender ask, “Who is she?”
“She’s an Indian princess from Virginia,” answered the lady in blue, “and her father is Powhatan, chief of the confederation of Algonquin tribes.”
“She is beautiful! So delicately formed!” remarked the first lady.
“She saved Captain John Smith’s life when he was founding the Jamestown colony back in 1607,” continued the lady in blue.
“Oh, she’s the Indian maiden who brought food to the starving settlers,” said the lady in lavender, nodding her head. “We’ve heard all about that and are thankful to her.”
“She learned to read and write English and was converted to Christianity,” added the lady in blue.
“Yes, indeed!” said the lady in lavender. “I’ve heard that she has a fine mind. Why she can even read complicated maps!”
At that moment John Rolfe nodded to Pocahontas that they were about to enter the throne room to bow to and greet the royal couple.
As Pocahontas took her husband’s arm, she said in a low-pitched voice, “I am happy tonight, John. People say kind things of me.”
John Rolfe smiled back at the beautiful Indian princess at his side as they walked together toward the throne of King James and Queen Anne of England.

I was baptized on December 5, 1993, in the city of Minsk. At that time, it was the only city in Belarus with a branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I attended worship services there, but I lived in Borisov, 40 miles (70 km) away. I was 17 years old, and there was sharp opposition in my family. But because of the trials I had at that time, my faith and testimony of the truth were strengthened. I was even fortunate enough to go to the temple twice in Freiberg, Germany, to perform baptisms for the dead. I impatiently awaited the time when I could receive my endowment.
In 1996 I began dating my future husband. Igor gladly accepted the news of the Restoration and was baptized on February 23, 1997. On March 1 we were married. Having a strong testimony of temple work, I wanted more than anything to go to the temple as soon as possible.
In September 1997, we moved to St. Petersburg, Russia, where Igor studied at the university. Our daughter Nelly was born there. Even after Igor had been a member for a year and a year had passed since our marriage, we still couldn’t go to the temple because we didn’t have visas and couldn’t get exit papers.
When Nelly was six months old, I became pregnant. It seemed to me we were in a hopeless situation. Igor couldn’t find steady work because he didn’t have a visa. He was holding down three jobs, but it wasn’t enough money for us to live on. Igor’s parents helped by sending money and food from time to time, but I was practically in despair because of our financial struggles. I felt even worse because we couldn’t go to the temple. In August 1998, after the exchange rate rose sharply, we decided to return to Belarus.
Our second daughter, Yelyena, was born in Minsk on January 6, 1999. Igor had a steady job now, but we still didn’t have enough money to go to the temple. Gradually we saved, however, and at the end of August 2000, we took the children to Germany. Igor has relatives in Kaiserslautern, and we stayed with them.
Early on the morning of September 2, we began our journey to the temple in Frankfurt. Although the trip was very tiring and included two transfers, we were full of enthusiasm and joy. We are grateful to all the temple workers, the temple president, and also the sisters who watched our daughters while we went through the endowment session. That was an unforgettable day! It is difficult to put into words the feelings we experienced there, but they were very good.
After the endowment session, we went into the sealing room, where Yelyena was already crying (it was her nap time). I hardly heard any of the sealing ceremony because of the crying, but we were very happy anyway. That was the most wonderful trip of our lives because we were in the house of the Lord.
We even managed to return to the temple. In February 2001 a group of members from Minsk went to Freiberg. I wanted to participate in the ordinance of sealings for the dead, since I had heard so little during our own sealing. I was grateful when Igor and I were invited to participate.
We now have a son, Robert, and as a family we attend the Minsk Second Branch (or, as it is known in Belarus, the Second Religious Community of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Minsk). And while we have overcome several difficulties, we now have new ones. I am very grateful for all of these trials. No matter what happens to us on this journey, Heavenly Father wants only good for us. No one else can help us in our most difficult hour. If we reject Him because of some difficulties, it would be like throwing away a life preserver because it did not keep us from falling into the river.
The burden is easy and the yoke light when we are with the Lord. He will not give us trials we cannot bear.

The essential service fast offering funds perform is illustrated by the case of a widow and her three young children who went to their bishop for help. They had no money and were indebted to many of the businesses in town. The bishop wrote to her creditors, explaining the situation; fifteen of them made adjustments in the bill of at least fifty percent. Over the next three months, by the use of several hundred dollars in fast offerings, many debts were repaid. This assistance proved to be a great boost for the family—both financially and spiritually. In the months and years that followed, the family was able to function on sound economic principles. Both boys served missions; all three children were married in the temple. The availability of fast offerings at the right time, managed wisely, helped this family to once again live a normal life.

Henry, now 16, returned with his mother and younger sister, Mary Jane, 4, to Nauvoo. An older sister, Maria, stayed behind to work for the Betts family.
Henry, weak himself from the summer sickness, returned to St. Louis for his sister. He earned his passage downriver and back by working on the riverboats. On the trip down he was an assistant fireman, carrying firewood and loading and unloading freight.
On the boat trip back to Nauvoo, Henry was third cook and “had the cabin dishes to wash, they being brought down to me by the cabin boys.” He liked the job because he could eat the leftover food, which was better than what he usually ate. Some plates of food came to him “untouched,” so instead of dumping the food overboard as ordered, he let other cabin boys eat it.
Henry, who was big for his age, joined the Nauvoo Legion. He “enrolled in a Captain Black’s company” when unfriendly neighbors began harassing the Mormons in and around Nauvoo. Officers gave this teenager “something of a gun,” and he “sometimes was scouting all night and took delight therein, even at times when the mob was expected every hour.”
Early in 1846, when Henry was 17, the Saints had to leave Nauvoo. For the wagon trek across Iowa, Jonathan C. Wright hired Henry to be a chore boy and drive an ox team. Henry liked this job, except for Brother Wright’s restriction that Henry walk his horses but never run or race them.
While Henry was camped with the Wrights at Council Bluffs, Iowa, a United States army recruiter arrived. “I had told my comrades that he would not get a man,” Henry said. But President Brigham Young called a meeting in a brush-covered bowery and asked that 500 men enlist in the Mormon Battalion for the Mexican War. Henry felt impressed to answer the call, so he joined the army. Mr. Wright, upset at losing his hired hand, “was wrathy and said that I could not go.” But Henry went. He was not yet 18, as required by the government, “but as I had nearly got my growth in height I passed without difficulty.”
The next summer, when he was 18, he left California, where the Mormon Battalion had completed its march, and entered the Great Salt Lake Valley just after the 1847 pioneers arrived. Wanting to rejoin his family, he returned east with Brigham Young’s company late that same year to the Winter Quarters area.
Henry and his family came west three years later, in 1850. He married and lived at Union Fort, Fillmore, and Fairview, Utah. During his adult years he was a farmer, teacher, and shoemaker.

But then my mind took me back to my first day of work nearly 40 years earlier. My father owned a bakery and baked bread that was distributed to many small markets in our city in southern Brazil. When I was a young child, I kept insisting that my father take me to work with him. One day he finally said yes!
My mother sewed a little white apron and a baker’s hat for me, and my dad and I went to the bakery. Together, we mixed and prepared dough, manually shaped the dough into loaves, and placed the loaves into the brick oven. When the bread finished baking, we used a long wooden paddle to carefully retrieve the bread. We waited for a few seconds, then we shared a loaf of the still-warm bread. It tasted wonderful!
Upon reflection, I decided that receiving an award at Cambridge was my second-best day of work. The best and happiest day at work was in a much more humble setting: a little bakery with no audience or standing ovation. It was just me and my dad. That day, he taught me to love and value work and helped me feel the joy of making something from scratch with my own hands. I learned that hard work is satisfying to both the body and the soul.
I can still hear the applause and the words of encouragement coming from that audience at the University of Cambridge, but more dear to me is the memory of my day at the bakery with my father and the smell of those loaves of bread as they came out of the oven.

Mary twirled and admired her white dress in the mirror. It was the same dress her mom wore at her baptism. Great-Grandma Marluce had fixed it to fit Mary. Now Mary could wear it at her own baptism!
“You are beautiful!” Mom took Mary’s hand and spun her around again.
Mary giggled. “Can I keep it on all day?”
“Let’s save it to wear for your baptism so it stays nice and clean, OK?” Mom said.
“OK.” Mary would be baptized when she turned eight, and she had been preparing for a while now. She had been going to Primary, reading scriptures, and even going to her friends’ baptisms. But her birthday still seemed so far away!
Mary cuddled up with Mom on the sofa. “Mommy, how old were you when you were baptized?”
“I was 16.”
“Wow! Why did you wait so long?”
Mom wrapped Mary in a tight hug. “Because I didn’t know about Jesus Christ’s restored Church until then. But I started going to Church activities with some friends. And the more I learned, the more I wanted to be baptized!”
“Why?” Mary asked.
“Because I wanted to have a forever family.” Mom pointed at the picture of the temple hanging above them. “I learned that someday I could be sealed to my family in a temple forever. Having a forever family was my dream. And baptism was the first step! Now my dream is coming true.”
Mary smiled. “You have Dad, Mallory, and baby Maeva! And me too, of course.”
“Yes, of course. And Grandma Angela.”
“Did Grandma get baptized with you?”
“She waited a few years. But whenever we traveled near temples, we liked to stop and look at them.”
Mary thought about Mom and Grandma looking at temples together. “And what about Dad? How old was he when he got baptized?”
“He was 11.”
“And he lived in Brazil then?”
“That’s right,” said Mom. “There are people all over the world learning about Jesus and baptism. Lots of them are pioneers.”
“Pioneers?”
“A pioneer is someone who is the first to do something,” Mom explained.
Mary thought about that. “Like how you were the first person in your family to get baptized?”
Mom nodded and smiled.
Just then, Dad walked into the room and squished onto the sofa.
“Dad, were you a pioneer for your family?”
“Sort of. After I was baptized, I found out Grandma Rosimere was already a member of our church! But she hadn’t gone in years.”
“Really? What happened?”
“I started going to church. Then my brothers started going, then Grandma Rosimere too. Even Great-Grandma Marluce joined!”
Mary imagined Dad going to church by himself, then bringing more of his family with him.
“Wow,” Mary said. “I like hearing your stories. They make me even more excited to be baptized.”
“Thanks for asking us all these questions, Mary,” Dad said. “Now can we ask you one?”
Mary nodded. What would they ask?
“Why do you want to be baptized?”
Mary thought about what she learned from the scriptures and how she felt at church. “Because I want to follow Jesus and be with my family forever.”
Mom and Dad both smiled, and Mary tackled her parents in a hug. “I can hardly wait!”

When some of the other Smiths chose to stay in Nauvoo, Mary Fielding Smith chose to go west. Her son was now getting older. He was now eight years old. She expected him to act the part of a man, so much so that when he was asked, “What is it like being a child?” he replied, “I really don’t know. I think I was born an adult.”

Mary and her son left Nauvoo and worked their way across the territory of Iowa. They were hoping to go west, but before leaving they needed to find a Captain of Ten. As you read Section 136 in the Doctrine and Covenants, you read about captains of tens, fifties, hundreds, and five hundreds. It was important for Mary to find a captain of ten who would take her family to Zion, which meant the Salt Lake Valley. Mary found a captain of ten who took them only part of the way. He did not want to be responsible for getting them all the way to Zion because he thought they were slowing down the rest of the company. Mary refused to turn around and go back to Iowa or Nebraska. She determined to go on to the valley. She actually arrived in the Salt Lake Valley before that particular captain of ten. She greeted him as he arrived.