Gospel Story Finder

Leah had the jitters. That’s what Mommy and Daddy called it when she got a little scared.
Leah was a Sunbeam. Her Primary had been practicing their sacrament meeting program for the past few weeks. She had enjoyed saying her part during the practices.
But today was the real program, and she was nervous. She wanted to stay with Mommy and Daddy. She did not want to look out at all the grown-ups.
“There are too many people,” Leah whispered to Mommy.
“Do you have the jitters, Leah?” Mommy asked.
Leah nodded.
Mommy put her arm around Leah and hugged her tight. Leah sang some of the songs in her mind that she had learned for the program. She felt calmer, but she was still a little nervous.
The bishop invited the Primary children to the stand. Mommy walked with Leah up to her seat in the front. Mommy showed her that the chair had a special tag with her name on it.
When Mommy gave her a kiss and turned to leave, Leah felt full of jitters again. Then she noticed Daddy and her little brother Taylor smiling as Mommy left to sit down. Daddy gave her a little wave, and Taylor blew her a kiss.
Leah paid attention as Sister Cassidy raised her hands to tell everyone to stand up. Leah knew exactly what to do. She knew the song the pianist started to play. Leah sang as loud and as pretty as she could, just like her teachers had shown her. Soon it was her turn to say her part.
She walked to the microphone and said, “I know Heavenly Father loves me. He hears me when I say my prayers and helps me to be good.”
Leah reverently walked back to her seat. The jitters were gone.

Principle Number 1: In our quest for holy wisdom, we must have the faith to lay our whole selves on the altar.
To echo the words of President Dieter F. Uchtdorf:
To sacrifice means to give something up in favor of something more valuable. . . .
. . . Our sacrifices show what we truly value.1
My parents have acted as a powerful example of this principle. My family decided to immigrate to the United States when I was six years old. At the time, my father worked at an international law firm—which allowed him to practice law in the U.S. with his Australian law degree. Unfortunately, just a few months after we had moved to Utah, the firm was suddenly forced into bankruptcy.

Initially my parents saw this as God closing a door, signaling a return to stable work in Australia. However, after prayer and reflection, they felt guided to remain in Utah. This choice required uprooting our lives, including sending my father to law school for a second time to become eligible to practice in the United States.

Over the next three years, my parents raised five children in a cramped, three-room basement apartment, surviving on meals supplemented with one too many cans of beans. In choosing to follow God’s will, despite discomfort, my parents taught me that no cost is too high to pursue the Lord’s will.
Each of you has incorporated sacrifice into your BYU education, whether it was relinquishing your free hour to crochet hats with Y-Serve or deciding to enroll in a challenging major based solely on revelation. Your sacrifice, like that of my parents, has taught you to love the things the Lord loves. Your sacrifice has purified your hearts, fashioning you into worthy instruments in God’s hands and preparing you to go forth to serve.

When I found myself in unfamiliar territory, facing a divorce that I didn’t want, I experienced pain and rejection that I have never felt before. I was in my mid-40s, alone to finish raising my teenagers, hold down a full-time job, and pay the mortgage. I was overwhelmed, tired, and worried, but mostly filled with the most incredible pain I have ever felt.
Because of my gospel foundation and my desire to live righteously, I knew I had to forgive my ex-husband. I knew it was important to not be critical of him in front of the children, but how was I going to get past those feelings of rejection that made me want to cry out in agony?
Day after day in my anguish, I turned to the scriptures, seeking direction from the Spirit. I searched diligently day and night. I needed to know what I could personally do at this unfamiliar crossroads of my life to follow the Savior’s example, to heed His call to follow Him.
As I studied the scriptures, I wrote down each attribute of Jesus Christ that I desired to develop in my own life. I recorded teachings from the stories and parables that He shared during His mortal ministry. I noted the things that spoke to my heart about forgiveness. I diligently penned in my notebook the hardships and trials that the Lord faced and how He overcame them.
Over time I recognized that His pain was much worse than mine, yet He forgave those who hurt Him. He was a perfect example. That notebook, filled with lessons from the Lord’s life, became a source of great strength to me. It was my lifeline. Following His example, I was determined to endure my trial as well as I could. I was willing to move forward through my pain.
It worked! Now a few years later, I am blessed to have a good relationship with my ex-husband. Even though he has remarried, our relationship as the parents of our children is sweet and pain free. By following Christ’s example of not criticizing him, I overcame the negative feelings of pain and rejection. I can love!
What a valuable lesson I learned during this intense trial. I am grateful for my Savior’s perfect example. He is my rock and my foundation. And I never feel alone. I have His love, His Atonement, His perfect example, and the love and blessings of a beloved Heavenly Father.

There are many modern day Calebs and Joshuas. One such man was my wife’s grandfather John Hulme. One day in 1926, the bishop had a conversation with John. The bishop brought up the topic of a mission. This caught John off guard.

John had always wanted to serve a mission, but his life was complicated. Why? Because John was 42 years old. He was a married man with four children, ages 15, 12, 4, and 2. He was a self-employed rancher. He had land and cattle that would need supervision while he was away. He would have to find a way to make sure his family and property were taken care of while he was gone.

The bishop told John that this was not an official call, just a suggestion. John told the bishop he would think about it and let him know the next day.

John sought out the bishop early the next morning and said he would accept the call to serve. That morning, after what was probably a very sleepless night, John did not know how he would make arrangements to serve a mission. He only knew he would serve. Like Caleb and Joshua, he knew God would help him find a way. And God did. John was able to hire a neighbor to care for his land and his cattle, and the ward and community rallied to support his wife and children.

It must have been quite a culture shock when John, a rancher from a small town, arrived to serve his mission in New York City.

John came from a small country town with a population of about 500. He was accustomed to riding a horse and working the land. When he was called to serve in New York City, it must have been quite a culture shock. He probably felt like a grasshopper among giants. But John served a successful mission. His example has given his posterity the desire to place their trust in God regardless of the obstacles and unknowns. “With God nothing shall be impossible” (Luke 1:37).

Violet was asleep when a rumbling sound woke her up. At first, she thought it was thunder.
But the rumbling got louder and louder. It shook her bedroom windows.
Violet sat up quickly. This was an earthquake!
She and her family had moved to Peru not long ago. She knew that earthquakes often happen here. And she and her family had prepared for them and practiced what to do. But this was much scarier than she thought it would be. She could feel her body shaking!
Violet ran to the kitchen and crawled under the table. A few seconds later, her brother and sister joined her. So did Mom and Dad.
“Good job remembering what we practiced,” said Dad. “Is everyone OK?”
Violet’s brother and sister nodded.
But Violet was scared. She closed her eyes. It was hard to ignore the shaking around her.
Then Violet remembered to pray. She folded her arms and bowed her head. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she whispered, “please take care of my family.”
Violet kept praying. She felt like someone was giving her a hug. When she finished, she looked up. Mom and Dad had their arms folded. Her brother and sister did too. They were all praying! The ground was still shaking. But Violet felt peaceful in her heart and mind.
At last, the shaking stopped. Violet and her family stayed under the table a little longer, just to be safe.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked Violet.
“OK,” Violet said. “At first I was really scared. But praying helped me feel better.” She gave Mom a hug. She was glad Heavenly Father had helped her feel peace.
Illustrations by Toby Newsome
Talk to your family about what to do in an emergency.

As I spread the threadbare but clean tablecloth over our table, I glanced out the window. My husband and I and our two children were living in the small, rural village of Hämeenkyrö, Finland, in the 1960s. I saw my four-year-old daughter, Marika, and three-year-old son, Petri, playing with our dog on our small patch of green grass. My husband was tending to some chores in the garden. I straightened the cloth, and when I looked up again I saw a stranger walking up the path to our front door. She was a gray-haired woman and seemed to limp a bit. She didn’t look poor by any means; she wore a beautiful flower-print dress and a long apron. In her hand was a bulging bag.
My children followed her as she came into our kitchen. “Excuse me for entering your home like this,” she said, “but I had to come.” She hefted her bag onto the table. It was full of food. As the butter, meat, sausage, and freshly baked bread made their way onto the table and then into my children’s hands, tears came to my eyes.
“Can you be our grandmother now?” Marika asked the woman.
“If I may!” our guest answered. “I’d be happy to, and you can call me Aunt Toini.”
In that moment I recalled my prayer to Heavenly Father: “Please send someone to help us!” Aunt Toini was an answer to my prayers, and not only did she bring us food, she also brought lessons of love.
Life was simple in Hämeenkyrö. We had bought a small house by a beautiful forest. I had recently joined the Church, but my husband was not interested in the gospel. We were trying to be self-reliant. We grew potatoes and other vegetables in our garden. I sewed the children’s outfits and patched our clothes. We needed and were thankful for surprise packages of clothing my mother sent from northern Finland.
But as time went on, things got worse. Our family had to strictly ration food. At times my husband and I would eat only potatoes so the children would have a bit more. This is when I started my pleading: “Dear Lord, please send someone to help us!”
I found a job, but it didn’t help enough. There wasn’t much of my salary left after meeting my expenses, including bus fare and the babysitter’s payment.
Though we struggled I always taught my children to be grateful for all we did have. Petri often blessed the food: “Thank You, Heavenly Father, for this porridge, but could You please give us a piece of sausage too, if You have some?”
At those times I pleaded even more, “Please send someone to help!”
As she carried water from the well, I offered a different prayer: “Thank You, Heavenly Father! Blessed be the full bag and 20 marks!”
Every Saturday Aunt Toini came at the same time, with the bag full of food and 20 marks. She never asked how she could help; she just went to work. Occasionally she would stay at our house for a day or two. At those times she would always be the first to get up in the morning to make the porridge. She bought us some new pots and pans when she noticed the need. Sometimes she would wash our laundry by hand.
The weeks went by quickly as we looked forward to Saturdays and Aunt Toini’s visits. I would sometimes tell her about the Church, and many times we prayed together. Marika and Petri were very happy every time she came, and Aunt Toini never forgot to bring some sausage for Petri. It seemed she enjoyed the time with our family, and I thought perhaps we were giving something back to her.
Aunt Toini visited us regularly for three years. Then one Saturday she didn’t come. Nor did she come the following day. Later we learned that Aunt Toini had just left a shop and was heading to our small cottage when she collapsed to the ground, never to recover.
My husband and I and our children attended Aunt Toini’s funeral. We didn’t know anyone when we arrived, and we didn’t know when it would be appropriate for us to lay our flowers on her grave. We decided to be the last to lay down our flowers, to express our gratitude, to say good-bye.
After the funeral a woman approached us and told us she was Aunt Toini’s daughter. “You could have laid your flowers down first. You were so dear to our mother,” she said. “What was the power that changed her? She used to be a stingy and selfish person. But during the last three years she changed into a new person. She was so tender and loving.”
I didn’t know what to say except, “It was love.”
Though it has been more than 40 years since I first met Aunt Toini, I am still learning from the lessons she brought along with her bag of food. She was my teacher. She taught me how to long for forgiveness and how to give service and help. And now I realize that though she came to feed us, she too had been fed.

One spring day, we were playing in our front yard. A very old, rusty, and dented van pulled up and parked on our street. A tiny old lady got out. She didn’t seem very strong. She opened the back of her van and gathered in her arms many heavy, new, yellow-page phone books. She began to deliver them to the houses on our street.
We watched as she delivered the few she could carry and then went back to her van to get more. It took her quite a while to do just a few. They looked heavy!
Mom thought we could let her use our red wagon to put the books in. She could pull it around our neighborhood. The four of us went over to talk to her. She said that the wagon would be helpful because the books get heavy, especially when she delivered them in office buildings.
We ended up giving her our red wagon to keep. Even though we liked playing with it, we knew that she needed it more than we did.
Several days later, as we were driving to school, we saw our tiny friend with the wagon, delivering more books. We felt really good knowing that we were trying to be like Jesus!

I would like to share with you a letter from a heartbroken mother. Her teenage son gradually lost the Spirit and drifted away from Church activity. She explained how this happened: “All throughout my son’s teenage years, I worried and tried to stop him from playing violent video games. I talked to my husband and showed him articles in the Ensign and in the newspaper that cautioned about these games. But my husband felt it was OK. He said that our son wasn’t out using drugs and that I should stop worrying. There were times that I would hide the controllers, and my husband would give them back. It began to be easier for me to give in … than to fight it. I really feel that gaming is just as addictive as drugs. I would do anything to prevent other parents from going through this experience.”

Sometimes it may not be easy to take counsel or chastisement, to admit we have made an error and need to repent. One of the reasons I have a testimony that Joseph Smith was, indeed, a true prophet and a man of God, is that he was willing to have recorded in the Doctrine and Covenants his chastisements from God. I don't think a fraud would have been willing to be so exposed.

If ever there was a young man who wanted the safety and security of good friends to stand by him, that young man was Joseph Smith. He eventually found such a friend in Martin Harris. Harris was all that Joseph Smith was not. He was more mature, better educated, more prosperous, and well respected in Palmyra. To have such a man as a friend and benefactor was truly as blessing to the young prophet.

When Martin Harris requested permission to take the first 116 pages of the translation of the plates home so that his wife could see them and stop nagging him about his support of Joseph Smith, Joseph took the request to the Lord. The answer was no. Finally the third time, the Lord said, "yes" and Martin departed from Harmony, Pennsylvania with the 116 pages to show his wife in Palmyra, New York. Martin was given strict instructions about the precious document. It was the "only one" in existence. No scribe had made a copy. It wasn't "backed up" in any way.

Tragic family circumstances kept Joseph Smith from thinking about Martin Harris and the manuscript for a time. But, he eventually became worried, so worried that he traveled to Palmyra to retrieve the 116 pages. When finally confronted with the fact that Martin Harris no longer had the manuscript, Joseph felt that he had lost his soul. He knew the parameters the Lord had set. He also knew that he had wearied the Lord with repeated requests. He lost his gift of translation. He was devastated.

But Joseph was willing to be entreated after this terrible error, an error anticipated by the great prophet Mormon who was persuaded by the Spirit to include the small plates of Nephi with his own abridgement "for a wise purpose" unknown to him. The Lord chastised Joseph in section 3 of the Doctrine and Covenants with these words, "Remember that it is not the work of God that is frustrated, but the work of men.... For, behold, you should not have feared man more than God...you should have been faithful; and I [God] would have extended his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he would have been with you in every time of trouble... remember, God is merciful; therefore repent of that which thou has done which is contrary to the commandment which I gave you, and thou art still chosen, and art again called to do the work."

Joseph heard the counsel, was submissive and easy to be entreated, and became the great prophet of the restoration who did "more save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it."

It’s hard to imagine how Alexis Thompson’s life could be much busier. She juggles a demanding academic load with frequent duty babysitting her two-year-old sister. And she is a dedicated musician who belongs to her high school orchestra, jazz band, chamber orchestra, and barbershop chorus, as well as a local youth symphony. So where does she find time for Personal Progress? Alexis uses time every Sunday to plan out what goals she will work on for the week. She also takes advantage of summer vacation to focus on Personal Progress.

For one of her value projects, Alexis used a talent she already knew she had, singing in her ward choir. For another, she branched out, volunteering to help in a special-needs seminary class. “This has been an incredible experience,” says Alexis. “It’s amazing to see the love and the testimony of the kids in the class.” It’s an experience she might not have made time for without Personal Progress.

During a stake conference assignment a few years ago while serving in South America, I met a couple that was grieving the recent death of their infant son.
It was in an interview during the course of the conference that I first met with Brother Tumiri and learned of his loss. As we spoke, he shared that not only was he deeply saddened by the death of his son, but he was also devastated at the thought of never seeing him again. He explained that as relatively new members of the Church, they had saved enough money to attend the temple just one time, prior to the birth of their little boy, where they had been sealed as a couple and had their two daughters sealed to them. He then described how they had been saving money for a return trip to the temple but hadn’t yet been able to take their little boy in order to be sealed to him as well.
Recognizing a possible misunderstanding, I explained that he would indeed see his son again, if he remained faithful, because the sealing ordinance that had bound him to his wife and daughters was also sufficient to bind him to his son, who had been born in the covenant.
Amazed, he asked if this was really true, and when I confirmed that it was, he then asked if I would be willing to speak with his wife, who had been inconsolable during the two weeks since their son’s death.
Sunday afternoon, following the conference, I met with Sister Tumiri and explained this glorious doctrine to her as well. With the pain of her loss still fresh, but now with a glimmer of hope, she tearfully asked, “Will I really be able to hold my little boy in my arms again? Is he really mine forever?” I assured her that as she kept her covenants, the sealing power found in the temple, effective because of the authority of Jesus Christ, would indeed allow her to be with her son again and hold him in her arms.
Sister Tumiri, though heartbroken by the death of her son, left our meeting with tears of gratitude and filled with peace because of the sacred ordinances of the temple, made possible by our Savior and Redeemer.

Thanks for an uplifting and wholesome magazine. Recently I had the opportunity to see the Lord’s hand in helping me to make a right decision. At the beginning of the week, I quit the school musical because of the language used. At the end of the week, the director came to me and invited me back, as all offensive language had been changed. I had read about this happening often, especially in the New Era. But I didn’t feel it would happen to me. I am a keen reader of the magazine and I know it just keeps on getting better. Whenever I am down, I reach under my bed in the overflowing box of New Eras. Thanks for the motivation.
Sariah WesenerLogan City, Queensland

Sam John could hardly wait until class was over so he could talk with Brother Murphy. He had a very special question to ask—one that he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
At first Sam had gone to Brother Murphy’s classes because he liked being with the older boys and girls who attended. Then he kept going because of the lovely music. Finally he found that more important than anything else was the feeling he had when he listened to the things Brother Murphy said.
Now he had to know if these things were really true!
Sam John waited patiently until almost everyone had left the class. Then he went up to the white-haired man and asked if he could talk with him alone. A bench under a spreading tree made a perfect place for Sam to ask his most important question.
“Brother Murphy,” he began, “are these things you have told us about Jesus and Joseph Smith really true?”
The man looked down, surprised that a boy only eight years old could be so serious and sincere. Then he took the boy’s hand, looked into his eyes, and asked a question too. “Sam,” he said, “do you think Sister Murphy and I and all the other missionaries who have come to these classes would spend money to come to Hawaii and take our precious time to tell you these things if we did not know they are true?”
Without hesitation, Sam answered, “I believe these things too, and I want to be baptized into your Church.”
Then Sam told Brother Murphy that his mother had been baptized when she was just a little girl, but that she didn’t understand much about the Church and had never been active in it.
“What would she think if you were baptized?” Brother Murphy asked. “And what about your father?”
Sam had to admit that he didn’t think his father would be very happy, but he promised to talk to him.
A few days later Sam John’s father, a Chinese-Hawaiian, went to the mission home. “What is this you have been teaching my son to affect him so much?” he demanded. “He even wants to become a member of your Church.”
“Mr. John,” the mission president answered, “I’m glad you’ve come to talk with me. There is nothing we’ve taught Sam that you should not also know, especially since your boy wants to be baptized.”
The next night Sam’s father went back to the mission home, and the next, and the next.
Sam could hardly believe it when a few weeks later his father suggested that Sam wait a little while to be baptized so that he and Sam’s older brother could be baptized.
Now we are united as a family, Sam thought after their baptisms, and it seemed as if his heart would burst with happiness.

Working with the World Health Organization to eliminate measles as a killer of almost a million children each year, over 54,000 Church members volunteered to help organize the effort. A Church member in Nigeria wrote: “I called our labor the ‘rescue of the innocent.’ We went house to house and village hall to village hall. A woman told us she had lost three children to measles. She told her story with such grace and passion that there was not a dry eye in the house, mine included.” Our volunteer observed, “The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things that you do for others remain as your legacy.”

Being true to oneself at times requires extraordinary strength and courage. For instance, in the early days of the Church it was very unpopular, even dangerous, to uphold Joseph Smith as a prophet of God. Lyman Wight was one of those imprisoned by the leaders of a mob in 1839.

General Wilson advised Brother Wight, “We do not wish to hurt you nor kill you,” and then following an oath said, “but we have one thing against you, and that is, you are too friendly to Joe Smith, … Wight, you know all about his character.”

Brother Wight said, “I do, sir.”

“Will you swear all you know concerning him?” said Wilson.

Brother Wight then told Wilson he “believed … Joseph Smith to be the most philanthropic man he ever saw, and possessed of the most pure … principles—a friend to mankind, a maker of peace.”

Wilson then observed, “Wight, I fear your life is in danger, for there is no end to the prejudice against Joe Smith.”

“Kill and be damned, sir,” was Brother Wight’s answer.

Returning later that night, Wilson told Lyman Wight: “I regret to tell you your die is cast; your doom is fixed; you are sentenced to be shot tomorrow morning on the public square in Far West, at eight o’clock.”

Brother Wight answered, “Shoot, and be damned.”

The decree of execution of the prisoners was revoked the next morning. (See History of the Church, 3:446–47.)

It started out with my sister reminding me how old I was by telling this little account. She said, “Remember when you returned home from your mission and you were invited to a post-mission interview with Levi Edgar Young, one of the Presidents of the First Quorum of the Seventy?”
The number of missionaries in those days was so small that those returning were given an interview by a General Authority. As the interview concluded, I was instructed to go home and tell my stake president that I was to be ordained a seventy. Puffed with pride, I returned home and informed my stake president the instruction I had received. The stake president happened to be my father. He never acted on the instruction—I was never ordained a seventy.
This puzzled me, and I sought out my mother to inquire why my father had never acted on the instruction. My mother gave me some wise counsel. She said, “Don’t worry about it. He is your stake president, and he knows what calling is right for you.” A short time later I was called into the stake Young Men’s presidency, which led to an event where I met a beautiful young lady who soon became my wife. My sister had brought back a very pleasant memory. Then she startled me with this statement, “At last you’ve made it to the seventies.”

I am reminded of one of my favorite movies. The movie is a story of a man that not only understood his place but understood the ability and potential of others. The movie is titled "Stand and Deliver." This movie is the story of Jaime Escalante who quit his job as a computer programmer to teach math at an inner city high school in Los Angeles. All of the people around the students in his class, teachers, parents, other students, even the students themselves, had already concluded that Mr. Escalante's students were going nowhere and did not have a chance in life--much less in school. Mr. Escalante did not buy into this belief and worked with all his strength to teach the students math up to and including Calculus. He helped them, worked with them during the summer, came in early, stayed late, and in the end prepared them for the advance placement test. Just before they were to take the test, one of the students asked him if he was worried that they would mess up on the test. Mr. Escalante, having a greater understanding of what his students could become, told the student that he was not worried about the test tomorrow. He was worried about their whole lives. Mr. Escalante understood the potential of those students even when they did not. He gave everything he had to work with them and help them achieve that potential.

Allow me to share this afternoon with you one of the most precious things to me—the story of how I myself was found.
Just before I turned 15, I was invited by my uncle Manuel Bustos to spend some time with him and his family here in the United States. This would be a great opportunity for me to learn some English. My uncle had converted to the Church many years before, and he had a great missionary spirit. That is probably why my mother, without my knowing, spoke with him and said she would agree to the invitation on one condition: that he did not try to convince me to become a member of his Church. We were Catholics, and we had been for generations, and there was no reason to change. My uncle was in complete agreement and kept his word to the point that he didn’t want to answer even simple questions about the Church.
Of course, what my uncle and his sweet wife, Marjorie, could not avoid was being who they were.
I was assigned a room that contained a large library of books. I could see that in this library there were roughly 200 copies of the Book of Mormon in different languages, 20 of them in Spanish.
One day, out of curiosity, I took down a copy of the Book of Mormon in Spanish.
It was one of those copies with a sky-blue soft cover, with the figure of the angel Moroni on the front. When I opened it, on the first page there was written the following promise: “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.”
And then it added: “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
It is difficult to explain the impact that these scriptures had on my mind and heart. To be honest, I was not looking for “the truth.” I was just a teenager, happy with his life, enjoying this new culture.
Nevertheless, with that promise in mind, I secretly began reading the book. As I read more, I understood that if I really wanted to get anything from this, I had better start to pray. And we all know what happens when you decide not only to read but also to pray about the Book of Mormon. Well, that is just what happened to me. It was something so special and so unique—yes, just the same as what has happened to millions of others around the world. I came to know by the power of the Holy Ghost that the Book of Mormon was true.
I then went to my uncle to explain to him what had happened and that I was ready to be baptized. My uncle could not contain his astonishment. He got into his car, drove to the airport, and returned back with my plane ticket to fly back home, with a note addressed to my mother that simply stated, “I had nothing to do with this!”
In a way he was right. I had been found directly by the power of the Book of Mormon.

After I joined the Church in Germany, I had cried a little for the glass of wine I would miss at parties and also for my dearly loved cup of coffee. But it really didn’t matter, I told myself, because I was not addicted. But four weeks after I banned alcohol and coffee from my life, I woke up with excruciating pains in my legs. I ignored them and went to work. But within two hours, my whole body ached and each movement hurt more and more. I was taken to the doctor. He gave me some pills, ordered 14 days of rest, and said with a laugh, “Drink a nice strong cup of coffee when you get home. That can’t hurt you.”
I suddenly realized that my pains were withdrawal symptoms. My body was reacting to the loss of caffeine. How easy it would have been to follow my doctor’s advice. How difficult it seemed in my weakened condition to listen to the Lord. Fortunately, the Lord strengthened me, and I did not give in to temptation. With His help, I overcame this condition—and continued to obey the Word of Wisdom.

I was baptized in Comayaguela, Honduras, in February 1992. After serving a mission in El Salvador, I moved to San Pedro Sula, Honduras. There I met Brenda, a beautiful young woman who had been home from her mission for only nine days. Some months later we were married in the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple.
We established our home in the Fesitranh Ward in Honduras, and before long I was called as the first counselor in the bishopric. At a priesthood executive committee meeting, the bishop informed us that one of our ward members, Brother Fidel Durón, was moving to another ward in the stake. He told us that Brother Durón was a very service-minded person and that every ward member no doubt had something to thank him for.
Brother Durón helped anyone in need, whether it involved an electrical problem, some construction work, a broken pipe, or an early-morning trip to the hospital. His service was not limited to Church members but was also extended to his neighbors and acquaintances. He was loved and respected by all. The bishop gave us an assignment to find all those members who had something to thank Brother Durón for. A meeting was planned to honor him for the selfless service he had given for such a long time.
I said to myself, “I don’t have anything to thank Brother Durón for.” I had lived in the ward for just a short time and had spoken with him on a few occasions. He seemed to be a pleasant person, but I didn’t think I had had the opportunity to be the recipient of an act of service at his hand.
Some time later I was called to be a member of the high council and assigned to the López Arellano Ward, the ward Brother Durón now attended. One Sunday I was in Sunday School in this ward, and the teacher asked class members to share personal experiences regarding service.
I happened to be seated to the left of a sister named Adela Rosa de Santos. She started to tell how the man at her right, Brother Durón, had served as her home teacher when she and her family were new members of the Church. She told how his kind service had given them strength and encouragement when they needed it and how he had blessed their lives. She concluded by saying, “If it weren’t for you, Brother Durón, I wouldn’t be here.”
I could hardly believe my ears. Sister Adela’s daughter, Suyapa, was the missionary who had knocked on my door five years earlier, and now I was a member of the Church and my life had been filled with the richest possible blessings. I had been given the opportunity to serve a mission, the privilege of receiving my temple ordinances, and the glorious hope of having an eternal family.
At that moment I learned that 20 years before, a humble man who was true to his commitment to serve others had unknowingly labored for the welfare of my soul. I was filled with a joy that is hard to express and with love for my brother, Fidel Durón. I had once thought I didn’t have anything to thank Brother Durón for. Now I considered myself to be first and foremost on the list the bishop had asked us to make.
That special meeting for Brother Durón was never held, because he returned to the Fesitranh Ward for a time. We now have a beautiful friendship. I have so many reasons to be grateful to Jesus Christ for all He has done for me and also to Brother Durón for the love he showed me 20 years before he ever met me.