Gospel Story Finder

What truly converted me to the gospel was the Book of Mormon. I read some verses from it. Then one day I decided to follow Moroni’s promise to “ask God … if these things are not true; and … he will manifest the truth of it unto you” (Moroni 10:4). So I said a prayer and started reading the very first verse in the Book of Mormon. When I read it, the Holy Ghost witnessed to me in a wonderful way that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God.

As a young man I considered and learned the doctrine of eternal marriage and family. This was of great interest to me and a determining factor in my conversion. I had witnessed the breakup of my parents’ marriage; I had seen sorrow caused by death without spiritual knowledge and friends marrying without temple ordinances. I wanted to avoid these tragedies.
The true concept of marriage and family, the unit composed of a husband, wife, and children sealed together, was instituted at the beginning by God to create eternal families. That foundation principle became my vision and my goal and also reality as my companion and I were sealed in the temple in Zollikofen, Switzerland. As a husband and father and later as a grandfather, I was and still am responsible for the development, temporal support, protection, and salvation of my family.

Sometimes I get upset about my disabilities, but I try not to show this. Usually I’m a happy person, and I just don’t show my frustrations to others.
When I was a teenager, however, there was a time when I was depressed.
I didn’t want to go to church. I asked God, “Why am I this way? Why can’t you make me better? Why don’t I have good relationships with others?” These questions discouraged me and made me feel really sad, and I didn’t know how I could change my situation, so I thought that maybe ending my life was the answer.
But then I thought about my mother and how she would react. I thought that she would probably feel really sorry and feel that she did something wrong or did not do enough to help me. That’s when I decided that I was going to live and keep going.
In the end, I feel that I’m a pretty happy person.

My parents, Apparecido and Mercedes, came from different religious backgrounds, but their life experiences prepared them to accept the restored gospel.
My father was raised in a good family but not religious. Nevertheless, as a young man he was interested in religion. He read the Bible, attended Bible classes, and studied the life of Jesus Christ. His studies caused him to have great interest in both the Savior’s gospel and the family, leaving him with a desire to marry someone of like mind.
By contrast, my mother came from a deeply religious family. They embraced gospel principles, attended church services, and faithfully practiced their religion. Growing up in that environment, my mother became the type of person who never missed a church meeting.
And so, after my parents married and my three brothers and I came along, they did their best to raise us within the light of their knowledge of gospel principles. One day my aunt, who was an inactive member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, said to my father, “You have four boys, dear. If you really want to raise a family centered in Christ and have God in your family, you need to go to my church.”
My father heard what she said, but he didn’t take any action until the day the full-time missionaries tracted in our neighborhood, knocked on our door, and began teaching us. He quickly realized that they represented the church my aunt had encouraged him to investigate.
One of the things that initially interested my parents in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is the importance the Church places on the family and the teaching that “much of God’s work of salvation and exaltation is accomplished through the family.” Before they were baptized, my parents were so impressed with what they were learning that they invited neighbors to join them for the missionary lessons.
As they met with the missionaries, and continued studying the gospel after their baptism, my parents learned of ways “to bring up [their] children in light and truth” and how to spiritually “set in order [their] own house” (Doctrine and Covenants 93:40, 43).
They learned that “the family is central to the Creator’s plan for the eternal destiny of His children” and that “happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.”
They learned that “successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”
They learned that families can be eternal and that the “same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory” (Doctrine and Covenants 130:2).
And they learned that “the ultimate purpose of every teaching, every activity in the Church is that parents and their children are happy at home, sealed in an eternal marriage, and linked to their generations.”
With that knowledge, they desired to be sealed as a forever family.
After my parents were baptized, they practiced what they were learning, moving from the world to the gospel kingdom. They worked to unite our family by having home evening and family scripture study, faithfully attending Church meetings, and doing family history work. With those efforts toward unity, they hoped to create a family centered on the plan of salvation with an eye toward eternity.
In 1965, the year my parents were baptized, the closest temple to São Paulo, Brazil, was in Mesa, Arizona, almost 6,000 miles (9,650 km) away. Travel was too expensive for our family, so my parents had to wait until the dedication of the São Paulo Brazil Temple in 1978 before they could receive their temple ordinances and be sealed. At that time, I was serving a mission in Rio de Janeiro.

As a physician, I once had a patient come to me after a routine blood test was out of normal range. In the days between her test and our visit, she had consulted the internet about what the results could mean. When we met, she was upset and worried. I tried to explain the results, but she was still distraught.
“Don’t worry about what could go wrong,” I told her. “That’s my job! It’s what I’m here for. I studied hard to know what to do about this. We’ll get through this together, and if you’ll follow my instructions, you’ll know how to be whole again. Trust me and let me take the burden of medical worries. Then you can focus all your energy on getting better.”
This helped to calm her fears. We made plans to run more tests, and I promised we’d move forward together.

“My parents taught me Christian principles, and we read from the Bible together as a family, but I resisted attending their church. I tried to fill the emptiness I felt inside with the works of great philosophers. But that emptiness wasn’t filled until my sister introduced me to the missionaries. The gospel of Jesus Christ broke down the wall I had created between myself and God. As our entire family learned about the gospel and decided to be baptized, I came to understand in my heart that I had always hidden there the solid moral and spiritual principles that my parents had taught me. When I opened my heart, I was able to appreciate what my parents had always tried to teach me.”
Corrado Campisi,Alessandria Branch,Vercelli Italy District

A Journey of Hope and Healing
A husband and wife share how pornography affected them and how they are addressing it:
Peace Will Come
After years of fighting a pornography addiction, I learned that repentance isn’t an event but a process. Looking back, I see God’s hand in my life, leading me along. The faith, prayers, and support of my wife and family helped me more than they will ever know. With God’s help, I hope to become the husband and father they have always deserved.
Through my struggles, Heavenly Father was preparing me and my family to receive greater joy and healing. I learned that the Savior alone is the source of strength and refuge that will provide healing and recovery. It was only when I turned to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ with full purpose of heart that I was strengthened to overcome my addiction. It’s a daily exercise to put on the full armor of God and to fill my life with things that invite the Holy Ghost, but doing so has brought me peace and joy.

I was a missionary sent to France in 1949. Missionary work then was much different from missionary work now. There was no Missionary Training Center, so when I arrived in Paris, I had had no language training at all. There wasn’t a set of lessons to teach investigators. Different missionaries used different methods to teach the gospel.
I had been in Paris for just a few weeks when my companion received word that his mother was dying of cancer. Since his scheduled release date was only weeks away, the mission president allowed him to return home early to see his mother. If that had happened today, another elder would have been transferred to my area to be my companion. But in those days I was left to work by myself until transfers for the entire mission were made.
Before he left, my companion and I had scheduled a few lessons. I knew that I would have to take care of those appointments. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know the language, and there were no prepared discussions. I was nervous and frightened.
I began to read the Book of Mormon and to pray as hard as I could. I would pray, and then I would read, then I would pray again and read some more. This went on for several days.
Finally it was time to go to my first appointment—the Alvarez family. They were a lovely couple whom we had just begun teaching. When I went, I didn’t know what I was going to say. I had a testimony of the gospel and the restoration, but I did not know the language.
But when I went to see this family, the Lord took over. For two hours I taught them. I’m sure that it wasn’t in beautiful French, but I was able to communicate with them how I felt about the gospel. They understood the message and were touched by the Spirit.
That night when I returned to my apartment, I knew that there really was a Father in Heaven and that He had called me on a mission. I knew that Heavenly Father had watched over and helped me—had loosed my tongue—and that He watches over all His missionaries. It was the first spiritual testimony that I had received in my life of the truthfulness of this work. One of the greatest blessings that ever happened to me was serving a mission.

I would like to share a spiritual experience. I was at someone’s house who had a steep hill. My little sister was at the edge of the hill, playing. I felt impressed that I should go over and watch her so she wouldn’t get hurt. When I got there, she was just about ready to fall down the hill. I felt that because I was there, I saved her from getting hurt. I feel that the Spirit helped me save my little sister.
Jessica Jones, age 7Copley, Ohio

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
Dad, my rock collection got put on the truck, didn’t it?
It sure did. One of the movers lifted the box and asked if it was full of rocks. He was joking, but I had to tell him yes.
Thanks for letting me bring them. Mom made me throw away my worm collection.
Your worms probably wouldn’t have liked the trip anyway. So why do you need your rocks?
Well, I want to show them to Franco. He’s a kid in my new class. He’s funny and really smart. And he says he’ll help me catch up with the math we’re doing.
That’s great. Sounds like you made a new friend pretty quickly.
Well, we ate lunch together today ’cause he was eating alone and I didn’t have anybody to sit with either.
Oh, here they are! Dad, can I use your wheelbarrow to take these over to Franco’s house on Saturday?
Why don’t you invite him to come over here?
Well, this would be easier because Franco can’t walk very well. He’s kinda hard to understand too, if you don’t listen hard. But he’s funny and smart and—
Tell you what. Why don’t I drive you over there on Saturday? I always like to meet your friends and their parents.

In 1956, after graduating from Kumamoto University Medical College, he visited Tokyo Women’s Medical College and saw heart surgery being performed.

He was so impressed by it that he decided to become a heart surgeon. It took five years of intensive training. During that time, he visited New York City for research purposes. Before he left Tokyo, one of Brother Nakamura’s friends told him that on his way back to Japan, he should travel across the United States to see Salt Lake City, Utah, and the beautiful Mormon temple.

Although Brother Nakamura was unable to visit Salt Lake City, his friend’s words were influential in changing his life.

“I remembered his reference to Salt Lake City and the Mormons when, in April 1971, two young men came to my home in Kumamoto and said, ‘We are Mormons.’ I was interested in hearing what they had to say; although, as a doctor, I had always thought that I didn’t need religion. I felt there was no need to ask help from Buddha or from God.”

“Our first impressions of the missionaries were good. They were only twenty years old, but they had such a kindly, respectful attitude, and they presented some thought-provoking concepts,” says Brother Nakamura. “I was thinking that perhaps my son and daughter could become like the elders if we listened to what they had to say.”

The missionaries made return visits to the Nakamura home and the entire family listened to the lessons. “Whenever the missionaries asked a question, one of my two children would correctly respond,” remembers Brother Nakamura.

“My wife and I wondered why the children’s responses to the missionaries’ questions were in harmony with the truth, while our answers were rather vague and lacking in comprehension. It made us feel humble. We were moved by the fact that our children could recognize truth.”

The Nakamuras were especially impressed with the emphasis on families. “Families should be the most important part of the home life,” says Brother Nakamura. “It was my hope that by listening to the missionary lessons, our family would become much happier.”

In July 1971, the Nakamuras were baptized, and in September of the same year, Brother Nakamura performed his first heart surgery. “I felt as if the Lord took away my fears and apprehensions,” he says. “I think if the heart surgeon has faith in the Savior, the special power of God helping may be felt.”

As Brother Nakamura gained experience in the Church, the idea of being sealed in the temple and of serving the Lord in that sacred building grew in his heart. Then, in 1973 (about seven years before the Tokyo Temple was dedicated), the Nakamura family had the opportunity to travel to California to be sealed in the Los Angeles Temple.

While traveling to the temple, they almost missed some airline flights and even wondered whether their airplane would arrive safely. But their prayers for a safe journey were answered. Brother Nakamura says he realizes now how important that trip was. “My main goal after that was to spend time in the temple, especially serving with my wife.”

The Nakamuras decided to accept a mission call to temple service. They knew it would mean a complete change in their lives, but to them, it was worth it.

Before their mission call, says Brother Nakamura, he was very busy in his profession and in the Church. He was enjoying his activities as the head of the hospital where he worked, and as the principal of a school of nursing where he was also an instructor. During this time he also served both as a counselor in the mission presidency and as a district president. He received many telephone calls—day and night—from patients who needed his help, which he freely gave.

“In the temple there are no midnight telephone calls,” he says. “The most wonderful thing is that the temple is the house of the Lord. It is peaceful everywhere. Now everything in my daily life is spiritually based. All of the ordinance work in the temple is to serve God.”

“It is a great privilege to act for our dead brothers and sisters,” he says. “As the Lord told us, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me’” (Matt. 25:40).

“When I was working in the hospital and involved in my Church duties, I was gone so many days and nights that my wife got lonely,” says Brother Nakamura. “Now we are working together all the time in a holy place. We are very happy.”

At the conclusion of his mission, says Brother Nakamura, he wants to return to his profession, but not in a government hospital as he was before. Instead, he says, he would like to be a doctor for senior citizens.

“Temple work is also missionary work. It means we serve God,” says Brother Nakamura. “It is the best place to serve, the best place to work, the best place to spend your life.”

“I grew up in Mormon country, but I never heard of the Mormons except maybe one time,” said Elder Hartman Rector, Jr., a convert to the Church. “I grew up in Missouri, and one day as my mother and I were driving over to Huntsville, the county seat, I saw a couple of mounds in a field. We were traveling about twenty-five miles an hour in a Model T Ford, so I had time to look around. I asked my mother what those mounds were. She said she thought that they were the graves of two Mormons who had died moving through the country years ago. I didn’t know what a Mormon was, and she didn’t say anything more about them. That was the only time, as a boy, that I ever heard the term Mormon.
“My home in Moberly was up on a hill,” Elder Rector remembered, “and a creek that ran about fifty yards below it formed a swimming hole. Everyone learned to swim in that creek. We called it the Old Well.
“I was the only boy in a family of three children, and I was spoiled. My grandmother saw to that. Her name was Lucy Ellen Mason, and she would save marshmallows for me. Back in those days, before plastic packaging, marshmallows in an open package would turn as hard as rocks. I still love hard marshmallows.
“My grandmother was very religious. I would spend a whole week with her before school started, and every night we would go to revival meetings (something like the meetings Joseph Smith went to before he prayed in the Sacred Grove to find out about the true Church). She would also read the Bible to me as I sat on her lap.
“My father never joined the Church. But I guess he’s about as honest and honorable a man as I’ve ever known. If he gave you his word, you never had cause to question it. He was a stern disciplinarian. When he told me that I had to do something, then I knew I had to do it.
“When I was about seven, Dad sort of hoodwinked me into milking cows. He said, ‘You’re not big enough to milk the cows.’
“Well, I knew I was big enough to milk them, so I said, ‘Of course, I can milk them.’ I got up early, got the bucket, and went out and milked the cows.
“My dad then said, ‘I believe you can milk the cows. You’ve got the job!’ For the next dozen years I milked eight to twelve cows each night and morning.
“Dad was a lot smarter than I was. One day I said to him, ‘I don’t want to milk cows.’ He replied, ‘That’s OK. You don’t have to want to. … as long as you do it.’
“My dad loved to play baseball, and I loved baseball too. I was sure I was going to pitch for the St. Louis Cardinals, and I might have done it, too, if the war hadn’t come along. As a result, I went into the service. Although I hate war, the Fourth of July and what it stands for always gives me a thrill. I have the strongest feeling for my country’s flag. I can’t see it pass by without getting a lump in my throat. I considered it a tremendous privilege to serve my country in the military.
“My mother was a sweet, wonderful woman who really loved my father. Their example had a great effect on me. I wanted to live like that; I thought it was the only way to live. It was quite a shock when I got out into the world and discovered that their relationship was rare.
“Sunday was a day spent visiting our relatives. My dad’s sister, Aunt Lila (whom I baptized in 1955, the only other member of my family who has joined the Church), had four children. My three boy cousins were practically my brothers. In fact, one of them came to live with us for a year and went to junior college with me. He even helped with the milking!
“I loved school. There were only thirteen pupils in my little school. They didn’t teach all eight grades each year, but alternated certain grades. They double-promoted me twice, so I missed the second grade and the fifth grade completely. I went from that little school to a big junior high school with three hundred sixty students. I found that there were many things I didn’t know, and I really had to study hard. By the time I got to college, studying wasn’t at all difficult for me.”

When I was in high school, my mom would place the New Era so that when I came home from school, I would be sure to see it. I usually glanced at the cover and that was it. My freshman year of college my mom started sending me the New Era every month. At first I would just put it on the coffee table hoping to impress someone. Now in my sophomore year, I anxiously await the arrival of the New Era. I really appreciate the uplifting articles and the inspirational musical numbers. Now I don’t have to use the New Era to impress anyone but myself.
Heidi SmithEllensburg, Washington

In Holland during World War II, the Casper ten Boom family used their home as a hiding place for those hunted by the Nazis. This was their way of living out their Christian faith. Four members of the family lost their lives for providing this refuge. Corrie ten Boom and her sister Betsie spent horrific months in the infamous Ravensbrück concentration camp. Betsie died there—Corrie survived.
In Ravensbrück, Corrie and Betsie learned that God helps us to forgive. Following the war, Corrie was determined to share this message. On one occasion, she had just spoken to a group of people in Germany suffering from the ravages of war. Her message was “God forgives.” It was then that Corrie ten Boom’s faithfulness brought forth its blessing.
A man approached her. She recognized him as one of the cruelest guards in the camp. “You mentioned Ravensbrück in your talk,” he said. “I was a guard there. … But since that time, … I have become a Christian.” He explained that he had sought God’s forgiveness for the cruel things he had done. He extended his hand and asked, “Will you forgive me?”
Corrie ten Boom then said:
“It could not have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
“… The message that God forgives has a … condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. …
“… ‘Help me!’ I prayed silently. ‘I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.’
“… Woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. As I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
“‘I forgive you, brother!’ I cried. ‘With all my heart.’
“For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then.”

Near the end of last year, I learned of the passing of a dear couple, Mario and Regina Emerick, who were very faithful to the Lord and passed away four days apart from one another due to complications from COVID-19.
One of their sons, who is currently serving as a bishop in Brazil, related the following to me: “It was so difficult to see my parents depart from this world in that condition, but I could clearly feel the hand of the Lord in my life amidst that tragedy, because I received strength and peace that transcended my understanding. Through my faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, I received divine help to strengthen and comfort my family members and all those who helped us during this trying experience. Even though the miracle that everyone hoped for did not occur, personally I am a witness of many other miracles that have occurred in my own life and in the lives of my family members. I felt an inexplicable peace that penetrated the depths of my heart, giving me hope and confidence in the love of the Savior for me and in the plan of happiness of God for His children. I learned that on the very most grief-filled days, the loving arms of the Savior are always extended when we seek Him with all our heart, power, mind, and strength.”

Even with such deep focus, Juan knows that it’s not easy to stay on target. A few years ago he gained a lot of strength from older young men in his ward. But most of them have moved or have started attending elders quorum, leaving Juan with few Church friends to support him when things got hard. During those times, Juan sought strength from his parents and siblings—and from his Heavenly Father.

“You feel a little alone sometimes because you have different standards, a different way of living, of treating other people, of seeking different things in life. But the truth is,” Juan adds confidently, “you are never alone. We always have prayer, and we can always draw closer to our Heavenly Father. I have always prayed to have the strength to do what’s right, to have the courage to stand up to my friends when they do things that aren’t right.

“And you know what?” he continues. “Sometimes my friends have told me they admire my example and the strength I have to say no.”

Some of the temptations that Juan faced were easy to reject. He could easily say no when a friend would invite him to drink alcohol. That was a clear violation of the commandments.

“But there are times when the temptations are more subtle,” Juan explains. “As it says in the scriptures, sometimes it’s disguised [see Matthew 7:15]. The temptations can appear as though they are nothing bad because they don’t appear to break a specific commandment. That’s when you have to pray to be aware of what’s going on so that you don’t get confused. The Spirit has helped me understand this many times when something is wrong or when people are trying to get me to do bad things.”

As Juan prepares for his mission, he has made some new friends in the Church who support him.

“I’m an example for other youth now, and this has been a blessing for me,” he says. “It helps me understand that the effort to be strong, to be faithful, is worth it.”

SYDNEY—“Flames were shooting 50 feet into the air. They were about 15 yards off. I could feel the heat on my face. That’s hot enough to know what firefighters would feel.”
But Michael James Davis isn’t a firefighter. The then 18-year-old member of the Sutherland Ward, Sydney North Stake, was standing in the driveway of his family’s home, ready to flee in horror as fire surged up from the valley where normally he walks his dog Jess.
The fire was one of about 130 that ravaged much of New South Wales in January, many of them set by arsonists. Nearly 1.5 million acres were burned.
Michael and his father had been trying to pump water from their swimming pool to hose down their house, but the fire got too intense. Firefighters ordered them to evacuate.
“I haven’t prayed so much in a long time,” Mike said. “I felt calm, but I still thought the house was going to burn. Just as long as everyone was safe, that was the main thing.”
Out in the street, he saw “everyone crying and trying to get their children out. All the people in the street, everyone just fled. It hurt me to witness that. That was almost as bad as the fire.”
He and his father joined the rest of their family at the home of some fellow Church members. After 45 minutes, a radio announcement said the fires had passed and residents were allowed to check on their homes.
“First we went to the chapel, to let them know we were safe and to see if anyone needed help. Then we came home to inspect the damage.” Miraculously, their home had been spared, even though the house next door had burned to the ground.
“All around their porch there were thick shrubs, and the shrubs spread the fire to their house,” Michael explained. Everything was gone but the foundation and a children’s play area out in the yard.
At his own house, Michael and his father found that two big gum trees in the backyard had burned completely. An iron fence had melted in the intense heat. And on the back porch, a mop sitting on the wooden deck had burned—the scorch marks are still there—but the deck had not ignited. That’s how close the fire had come.
That night Mike was allowed to sleep in his home. “The air smelled bad,” he remembers. “You could look down in the valley and see the embers glowing in the dark.” He lay there thinking of what he’d learned in just a few short hours:
—“Heavenly Father did hear my prayers. He helped me to be calm, to know that everything would be all right, even though he didn’t tell me exactly what would happen.”
—“There was a lot of help and friendship from the Church, but there was a lot of help from people in the general area as well. I took a walk around an area that wasn’t burning. Everyone was stopping and having a chat and saying, ‘Is your family all right? Is there anything we can do to help?’ These are people I hadn’t ever seen, people who weren’t in the Church, and they were good people trying to help each other.”
Over the next few days, he learned some additional things:
—“Fifteen members of our ward chipped in and bought a new fridge and a washing machine and brought blankets for the people in the house that burned down. They were just renting, but they didn’t have the contents insured. We helped them start getting their life back together.”
—“The worst thing is that police caught people looting burned out houses for jewelry. How people could do that to someone who is already hurt by their house being burned down is incredible to me. I’ve seen the bad side of people and the good side, too. I’ll take the good side.”
Time passed. “Soon we had the pool cleaned of the soot deposited during the fire, and fertilizer greened up our grass.” Down in the valley, green shoots poked through the ashes on the ground.
“Life comes back,” Mike says. “But the memory of this fire will be around for a long, long time.” Even more enduring, however, will be the new understanding of the things that are really important in life, and Mike’s deepened gratitude for them.

“How many pennies are equal to a nickel?” Mrs. Connor, the kindergarten teacher, asked.
Christopher’s hand shot into the air, but Mrs. Connor acted as if she hadn’t seen him. She called on Tony, who wasn’t even raising his hand. Tony fidgeted in his seat, staring at the floor. “Five?” he asked doubtfully.
“That’s right! Good job, Tony.” Mrs. Connor walked over to Tony and mussed his hair a bit. That was something she did when she was happy with you. Tony smiled with relief.
Christopher sat poised for action as the next question was asked.
“How many pennies are equal to a dime?”
Christopher raised his hand high above his head, but Mrs. Connor called on Caroline.
“Next question: How many pennies equal a quarter?”
Christopher waved frantically. “I know, I know,” he chanted in a half whisper.
Again he was overlooked. Disappointed, he slumped back and gave up. He didn’t even raise his hand for the next two questions, though he knew that the answers were fifty and one hundred. “Why doesn’t she call on me?” he wondered. “She must not like me.”
“Christopher.”
She was calling on him! His heart leapt with excitement. He sat up and faced the teacher, ready to answer any question she might ask.
“How many pennies are equal to five dollars?”
“Wow!” Christopher thought. “That’s a new question.” He paused, thinking hard. Then he saw how it worked. “Five hundred,” he answered.
“Very good, Christopher! How did you know that?”
“I have an electronic brain—just like my dad!”
Mrs. Connor smiled. “Well, I guess you must.”
Christopher grinned as the class moved on to the next subject. Mrs. Connor still liked him. He was smart. He was happy with himself.
When the final bell rang that afternoon, Christopher quickly stuffed his homework into his backpack and ran for the door. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom that he had answered the hardest question. Maybe he would even call and tell Dad.
Mom was waiting just outside the kindergarten room. “Hurry, Son,” she called. “We need to get you to soccer practice.” Christopher had forgotten about practice, but he was eager to go. It was his first year playing soccer, and he was looking forward to his first game on Saturday.
“How was school?” Mom asked in the car.
“Great! Mrs. Connor asked me how many pennies were in five dollars, and I knew that the answer was five hundred.”
“That’s wonderful, Chris. How did you know that?”
Christopher shrugged. “I guess I’m just the smartest person there is—except for Dad.”
“Oh, Christopher.” Mom was using her worried voice. “That kind of attitude will get you in trouble. I’m glad you do well in school. You are very blessed, but that doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone else.” She stopped talking, seeing that he wasn’t really paying attention.
Christopher was thinking about Saturday’s game. He imagined himself powering past the other team, scoring goal after goal. He could almost hear the crowd cheering him on to victory.
Saturday morning, Christopher got up early and dressed in his soccer uniform—shin guards and all. The game was at 11:00, and he wanted to be ready. At 10:30 he was sitting in the car, water bottle in hand, wishing Mom and Dad would hurry.
“There’s my coach!” Christopher shouted as they neared the school yard. The grassy playground was divided into six small soccer fields. Christopher ran ahead to join his teammates as they took turns kicking the ball into the net. The excitement level was high.
The referee called the two teams to the center of the field for the coin toss. Christopher looked at the player across from him and was surprised to see Tony. “Hi, Tony!” he said. “I didn’t know you played soccer.”
“Oh, hi, Chris,” Tony answered, equally surprised.
Tony’s team won the coin toss and chose to kick off. Christopher was surprised to see Tony lining up to kick the ball. A team’s best player usually did that. At the signal, Tony nudged the ball gently, and one of his teammates kicked it back to him. Then Tony took over, dribbling the ball down the field and blasting a shot into the net. Christopher’s team tried to stop him but couldn’t. Just that fast, the score was one to nothing!
Christopher was amazed. Tony was the best soccer player he’d ever seen!
Now Christopher’s team got to kick off. Taylor, the best player on the team, ran and kicked the ball with all his might. Christopher ran along with Taylor, surprised at how different a game was from practice. In practice you could take your time, plan your passes, and move steadily down the field. In a game everything happened quickly. There was no time to stop and think. Christopher stayed with the mass of players kicking the ball back and forth, and managed a few good kicks. When the referee signaled the end of the first half, the score was five to one. Christopher’s team was losing.
Tony continued his stunning performance in the second half. Christopher did pretty well. He almost scored a goal, but the ball bounced off the goalpost. The final score was eight to two.
The two teams lined up to give each other high fives. Christopher stopped when he reached Tony. “Congratulations!” he said.
“Thanks.”
“You’re an awesome player. Where did you learn to play like that?”
“From my dad. He’s the greatest soccer player ever. He plays with me every night.”
“I wish I was as good as you,” Christopher said. “You scored more goals than my whole team!”
Tony smiled. He held his head high as they left the field.
Christopher was quiet on the ride home.
“What are you thinking about, Son?” Dad asked.
“About Tony,” Christopher answered. “He’s in my class at school, and he can’t answer math questions very well. I always thought he was, well, sort of dumb. But he plays soccer way better than I do, and I’m the smartest one in my class. How can that be?”
“Everyone is different, Chris,” Dad began. “We all have different talents. What’s important to remember is that we should always do our best. You may never be as good at soccer as Tony is, and he may never be as good at math as you are. But if you both try hard and do the best you can, both of your parents will be proud of you. We’re Heavenly Father’s children, and He doesn’t demand that we all be math whizzes or score ten goals. He only asks that we do the very best we can with the talents He’s given us.”
Christopher thought for a moment. “But what if our best isn’t good enough?”
“That’s the point, Son,” Dad explained. “Our best is always good enough.”

But before my promised blessing came, a rich blessing for the entire family came to us. It was during the time, many years ago, when sacrament meeting was held at 2:00 P.M. in the rural wards. We usually went to meeting in our white-top buggy, which would hold the entire family. But at this particular time there was much sickness—an epidemic—and parents were asked to attend sacrament meeting but to leave the children home, so Father and Mother went alone in our one-horse buggy.
When they returned, we saw something we had never seen before. Both Father and Mother were crying at the same time. Being the oldest, I asked what was wrong. Mother assured us everything was all right.
“Then why are you crying?” we asked.
“Come into the house and we’ll tell you all about it,” she answered.
As we gathered around the old sofa in the living room, they explained the tears.
When sacrament meeting was over, the country store was opened just long enough for the farmers to get their mail, as the post office was in the store. There was no rural mail delivery in those days, and opening the store briefly on Sunday saved the farmers a special trip to the post office.
On the way home from sacrament meeting, they had stopped at the store for the mail. Then, with Father driving and Mother opening the mail, they had found a letter from Box B. This was a call for Father to go on a mission. In those days no one was asked if he were able, ready, or willing to go. The bishop was expected to know, and a mission call came without warning.
Mother said that they were happy and grateful that Father was considered worthy to fill a mission. Father explained, “We’re crying a bit because we know it means two years of separation. Your mother and I have never been separated more than two nights at a time in all of our married life, and that has been when I’ve been in the canyon for poles, fence posts, or derrick timbers.”
Father went on his mission, leaving Mother at home with seven children. The eighth was born four months after he left. Our small dry farm had been sold to finance the mission. A family moved into part of our expanded farm home to rent the row cropland. We children, under Mother’s day-to-day encouragement and Father’s letters of blessings, took care of the dairy herd, the hay, and the pastureland.
It was hard work, but it was a rewarding two years. Not once did we ever hear a murmur from Mother’s lips as she sang at her work the songs she and Father had enjoyed. Letters from Father came from Davenport, Iowa; Springfield, Illinois; Chicago, Illinois; and Cedar Rapids, Iowa. These letters, along with family prayer and unity, brought a spirit of missionary work into our home that never left it. Later, seven sons went on missions from that home.

I was stressing about how I was going to pay for the things I wanted to do over the summer: classes, workshops, summer camps, and so on. I thought I was going to cry. Then I remembered all the things I’d been taught about having trust and faith in the Lord. I decided to put the situation in the Lord’s hands and trust that if it was His will, He would provide a way.
Not too long after that, my mom found an uncashed check from a job I had had earlier that year, and the very next day I got a small cash prize in the mail for taking second place in a competition. This was a great testimony to me that God does live, that He loves and cares about me and will provide.
I was so filled with gratitude and love for my Heavenly Father and Savior. I felt as if I might burst! I longed to show how thankful I was, to praise God the best that I could, and to share that feeling. Others have done this by composing a song, writing a poem, or painting a picture, but I felt inadequate to do any of those things. I realized the only thing I could give that would be adequate praise would be my life—to be “an example of the believers” (1 Timothy 4:12), to give my life to Christ. That’s all He asks, and that’s all I can give.