Gospel Story Finder

One mother who learned to put her trust in the arm of the Lord taught a son to do the same. Later, as a man bearing testimony to the power of prayer, he said: “It was through the example of my mother that I learned to depend on the Lord. Whenever we had an important decision to make, we would discuss the problem, and then my mother would say, ‘Now, let’s take it to the Lord.’ I often came home to find housework left at a standstill and my mother kneeling in prayer. Friends coming into the house sometimes asked me, ‘What is your mother doing?’ I would say, ‘She is taking a problem to the Lord.’”

“I’ll give you ten bucks to taste a beer tonight,” one boy coaxes.
“Yeah, I’ll add 20 to that,” another prods.
“Come on, you’ve got to at least try it once,” a third boy encourages. “You don’t even know what you’re missing.”
The offers are beginning to grow into a nice sum of money. Everyone is watching.
“I know you know I’m Mormon,” responds Sara Traina, 14, of the Jonesboro Georgia Stake. “I won’t do that.” But the boys persist in a half-serious, half-teasing manner.
What would you do?
Last summer at a Young Women’s conference, LDS girls from Georgia had the opportunity to spend five days discussing situations like this and learning how to handle them. The girls came up with a list of things they have found make their lives on earth happier and their quests for heaven a little easier.
Make up your mind what to do in difficult situations before they arrive. For Andrea Bennett, 17, of the Douglas Georgia Stake, turning down alcohol and R-rated movies at her junior/senior beach weekend wasn’t hard at all. “A lot of people were drinking, but when they asked me if I wanted some I just said no. I didn’t even have to think about it. I had made up my mind long before that happened I wouldn’t do those things. So when the offer came there wasn’t even a doubt in my mind what my answer would be. It would just happen. And it did.”
Hang Mormonads in your locker. Ginny Pettyjohn, 16, of the Sugar Hill Georgia Stake, says, “They remind me to always be good; plus they are a good influence on others when they see them.”
Last year Ginny’s locker was next to the locker of a guy known to drink a lot. He also liked to keep up on the latest Mormonads in Ginny’s locker. “One day a Mormonad about keeping the body and soul clean really seemed to intrigue him,” she says. “He kept looking at it but didn’t say anything.” The very next day he told Ginny a couple of his friends had come over the night before and asked him to go out drinking with them. But he thought about the Mormonad and decided not to go.
Make good friends. Cathy Geigle, 15, also of the Sugar Hill Stake, has moved a lot and has had to make new friends many times—member and nonmember alike. “It is always so much fun to go out with Mormons,” she says. But right now those occasions usually occur when there is a church activity, since there are not a lot of LDS students in her school. But that hasn’t kept Cathy from making good friends. “If you have a good, clean spirit and are living righteously, you will be attracted to other good spirits, even if they aren’t Mormon,” she says.
On Cathy’s first day of high school, she met Kelly. “We started talking, and I could just tell from the way she talked and acted we were a lot alike. Our spirits are alike. She’s been a good friend ever since.”
Pick a role model for yourself. “Joseph Smith is my hero,” says Anh Nguyen, 14, of the Atlanta Georgia Stake. “He was looking for Christ. He worried about finding the true church.”
And Anh can relate. It wasn’t too long ago her family came from Vietnam to the United States, and the missionaries found them. Then she, too, had to find out for herself what the truth was. She says she prayed just like Joseph did, and she received an answer.
“Joseph makes me want to stand up for what I believe like he did,” Anh says. “His example gives me strength.”
Read your scriptures. “It’s one of the best ways to come closer to Heavenly Father and to have your problems answered,” says Doralee Solomon, 17, of the Douglas Georgia Stake. “You can always go to your scriptures for help and get answers.” At one time Doralee had a friend who was smoking, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t know whether she should talk to the person, the bishop, or the parents. But after reading, praying, and listening to her Young Women lessons, she knew she needed to confront her friend. “I know reading my scriptures helped put me in tune for an answer,” Doralee says.
Pray. Before the Young Women’s conference, Allison Buytendorp, 17, of the Roswell Georgia Stake, didn’t want to go. But her mother suggested she pray about it before she made up her mind. Allison prayed and felt she should go. Now she knows why. “I loved it. I felt spiritually renewed afterwards, and it made me want to go to seminary. Now I want to learn more about the scriptures. I know I was where I was supposed to be because I prayed. It just feels good to know Heavenly Father is always there for you to help you out.”
Remember Sara from the beginning of this story? She was standing up for what she believes in. She never took the guys up on their offers. She politely refused and didn’t go to the party where the alcohol was being served. All her response did was gain her more of their respect. “I stand up for what I know is right the best I can,” Sara says, “and because I’m consistent I’m respected.”
Tucked away deep in the Bible Belt, where most people are strongly religious, these girls communed in a peaceful 4-H camp halfway surrounded by a lake, an hour and a half outside of Atlanta away from the worries of the world. They were able to listen to talks and programs of their choice on missionary work, dating, sharing talents, trusting each other, and preparing for the Second Coming, to name a few. They stayed in cabins and enjoyed conversations easiest held with girls of their own religion—conversations about subjects like returning to live with their Heavenly Father someday. Now they know there are many LDS girls out there going through the same situations they are, and they know what others are doing to make their quest for heaven a little easier. They can take those ideas home with them and use them in their own lives.

A number of years ago our family lived in Brazil for a short while. Two weeks before we were supposed to return home, we were in an auto accident. As we drove home in pouring rain from sacrament meeting, we entered a neighborhood intersection. A car pulled out from behind a parked vehicle and hit us broadside. Fortunately no one in either of the cars was injured, but the automobiles were both quite badly dented. As my husband, John, got out to discuss our plight with the other driver, I kept reminding him that it was not our fault. Soon he returned to the car and slowly drove back to the little farmhouse where we were living, with metal grinding against the tires on every rotation. The other car followed. All John said was, “I’ll explain later.”

When we got home, John found our little envelope of emergency cash, and he paid the family to get their car repaired. They happily left. I was astonished. Then John gathered our family together. He was somewhat apologetic as he explained his actions. “I know this accident was not our fault, but as I was negotiating with this family, the only thought in my head was that only a little over an hour ago I had covenanted with Heavenly Father to always act as He would. I knew that if He were standing in my position, He would have had compassion on this family and would have done all He could to help them.” What an exemplary husband and father! He had remembered his covenants. Acting with Christlike love, he had softened hearts.

With February came Keith, and in our small branch one person can make a lot of difference. He was a convert of five months and had the enthusiasm of four new missionaries all wrapped into one person. So when the college we attended announced a foster grandparent program involving a local rest home, Keith approached me with the idea that we, the only LDS students on campus, should join and be good examples. I suggested we visit the two women who were in our branch who lived there. They couldn’t get to church meetings, and they probably needed us. We talked about it but took no action.
Then one Sunday our high councilor couldn’t make the 30 miles to our branch because of a heavy snow, and President Harrison gave what I am sure was an impromptu talk on faith. He said faith was putting your words and beliefs in action. It was that afternoon that Keith and I decided to visit the sisters in the rest home.
Our first visit was a disaster. We visited each sister alone, and didn’t really get beyond “How are you?” “Fine.” As we left we knew two things: first, that they needed us; and second, that we could do better. We had promised them that we’d return. And even though we spent much of the next Sunday afternoon driving home the 150 miles from district conference, Keith and I convinced Les Harrison, his sister LeAnn, and Portia (a nursing student) to visit the women with us.
We wheeled both sisters into a quiet corner. Keith read an article from a Church magazine, Les read a scripture, and Portia offered a beautiful prayer. We felt good about the experience, and the next Sunday we came with seven Young Adults and youth. Les and Keith blessed and passed the sacrament to the sisters. We then wheeled them into a small chapel in the home and sang a hymn. An article from the Church magazines was read, then a poem and a scripture. We had a closing hymn and prayer.
It was three o’clock before we left and we hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so Les invited us all to his house for soup and crackers. That Sunday afternoon I was again in the branch president’s home, only this time it was under much different circumstances. The faithful president had just come home from working at the church, and he and his wife joined us in our meal. During the week the seven of us were scattered about the town, and many of us were without families in the Church. For two hours we sat around the table and talked with each other and Les’s parents. Jokes, stories, and the problems of being lone Latter-day Saints out in “the field” were shared. It was truly an inspiring experience.
Les and I only had an hour to work on our home-study seminary lesson before I had to be back at the church for a branch correlation meeting. It was a good meeting, and it was ten o’clock before I returned home. I had no time left to work on my genealogy or write a letter to a missionary as I had planned.
When I knelt for prayer that night I realized there were more “dos” for the Sabbath than I could ever fit into one short day. I thanked my Heavenly Father for the special day he had set apart to bless us.

You come home from school and ask your mom what’s for dinner. She tells you it’s soup and bread, and she asks you to hang up your jacket. You’re about to go out with some friends when she reminds you that you need to practice the bodhran for a while.
Have you stepped into a parallel universe? Is this some kind of weird dream? What in the world is a bodhran?
It’s all part of daily life for the Bigney brothers of Woodland Hills, Utah, because their family’s Celtic music group is a priority, and the boys have to practice.
Alex, Sam, and Simeon Bigney, ages 18, 16, and 14, respectively, make up the group Kirkmount, and though their music isn’t exactly the stuff you hear on the radio, it definitely appeals to a lot of people.
“Our music is interesting because it spans a generation gap,” says Alex. “Old people like to listen to it, but kids our age come out and think it’s really cool, too.”
Part of what makes it “cool” is that the three boys do all the music themselves. Alex plays the harp and the bones (and yes, the “bones” are exactly what they sound like they are); Sam plays the fiddle; and Simeon plays the cello and the aforementioned bodhran (pronounced “bow-run”), which is a sort of Gaelic drum.
Whatever happened to the piano, or the guitar, or even the clarinet?
“We’re not aware of any other group anywhere that has this particular arrangement of instruments,” Alex says. “But they’re all very traditional Celtic instruments.”
“Celtic,” by the way, is pronounced with a “K” sound at the beginning, and it refers primarily to the region of Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Bagpipes are a Celtic instrument you may have heard before, and Enya is a popular Celtic musician.
Aside from the choice of instruments, Kirkmount differs even from other Celtic groups because of their music—they write most of it themselves.
“It’s not extremely common for groups to write their own music,” says Sam, who does most of the writing for Kirkmount. “Some people will write a tune or two, but not a lot.”
Sam’s first tune was called “Late Summer Aire.” He first got a taste of fame when he and his brothers attended a fiddle camp—yes, a fiddle camp—in northern California, and the whole camp wound up playing his song. After that, the boys were hooked.
What brought them to a fiddle camp in the first place? That’s where the family ties come in. The boys’ grandfather used to invite them frequently to go to a Scottish fiddling camp with him, but they always declined.
“But one year, our grandparents were going to Ukraine on a mission. We weren’t going to see them for a while, so we decided we’d better go to the camp,” says Alex. “We went and really enjoyed the music, and that’s how we got started.”
The boys’ parents, Alex and Marilyn, began hiring professional musicians to come do workshops at the Bigney home. About 20 or so have been through, and many of them have done shows with the Bigneys afterwards, the money going to help pay for expenses. (The income from Kirkmount’s two CDs helps cover costs, too.)
It’s really a family affair. Sister Bigney says her husband “knows how to critique. He critiques the boys, and he listens, and he knows enough about Celtic music to help them. He has an exceptional ear.”
What about Mom? She supports. “I took them to their lessons for quite a few years,” she says. “I’m a great expert—on paper. I’m a great appreciator of music.”
Eventually, even the boys’ younger sisters, Miriam and Falcon, will get in on the act, as they are learning to play the viola and guitar.
“It would be really great to have a whole family thing,” Sam says. “It’s not something many people do as a family.”
How strong are the family ties with the Bigneys? Well, they practice about two hours a day together on the average, but sometimes it’s as much as eight hours. And they don’t really get tired of each other.
“We have our small quarrels,” Sam says, “but I think even the music helps us to solve those and come to an understanding of each other. I think music can touch people in ways that words can’t.”
The name Kirkmount is the name of the small village in Nova Scotia where their grandfather grew up. (Their great-great-grandfather, Simeon Bigney, was one of the first members of the Church there.) The covers of their CDs are collages of old family photos. Their ancestors were Celtic and played many of the same tunes that the Bigneys play now.
“We’re carrying on a tradition,” Alex says.
And Sister Bigney adds, “It’s important for people to find out what their traditions are, and music is one of those important things that helps you understand how your ancestors felt, what they did for entertainment, all the emotions they had. Music is a language.”
Alex says, “This music helps us get closer to our grandparents. They come to many of the shows, whenever they can, and they’ve supported us all through our musical experience.”
This family is tied together so much that Sam and his grandfather are even home teaching companions.
Obviously, the group has a strong interest in genealogy and family bonds. Sam explains that one of the highlights of his musical career so far has been playing his fiddle at the graves of some of his ancestors in Nova Scotia.
Furthermore, the group’s travels have taken them to Boston, where their father lived as a youth. Simeon (whose name is pronounced like “Simon”) says seeing where his dad went to church “was a good experience,” as was spending so much quality time with his brothers.
The Bigneys’ music doesn’t have any lyrics, so it’s difficult to express any kind of particular message in a song. But their music is expressive in its own way, creating moods and feelings pretty well. The music makes you feel like you’ve been taken back in time, and taken to Ireland. And since the gospel should be part of everything we do, the Bigneys manage to tie it all together.
“We don’t say onstage ‘Yes, we’re LDS,’ but I think people know,” Alex says. “Since we come from Utah, there have been people who come up and say, ‘Are you Mormon?’”
Sam adds, “We try to set a good example for people. The music helps us realize that God gives us talents, and we hope we can use them to our best abilities and share them with other people.” The Bigneys feel they must rely on the Lord when they perform.
“As we’re playing the music, we really become aware of whether the Spirit is with us or not,” Alex says. “If we don’t have the right spirit with us, we know we don’t play as well.” As a result, the group always has a prayer before they perform.
“You have to realize where the talents are coming from,” Alex says.
But it’s not all play and no work for Kirkmount. The boys practice every day, and while they enjoy all the regular teenage boy stuff—basketball, hiking, reading, and what-not—sometimes the music has to take them away from those things. They’ve sometimes missed ward basketball games and Boy Scout campouts because they had performances.
“But our Young Men and Young Women groups are pretty supportive,” says Sam. “They’ve come to our shows before.”
And so in the end, it’s all worth it. The stronger love for their immediate family, the more powerful connection to their grandfather and distant ancestors, the satisfaction they get from using the talents God has given them to uplift others—all that makes everything worthwhile. “The music helps me to know who I am,” says Sam, “and to express myself in a way that words can’t. We want to help, not only ourselves, but other people gain a testimony as well. Music can touch hearts.”

In 1978, Isaac was eight years old. He lived in a small village in Cross River State, Nigeria. His house was made of bamboo poles packed with mud and had a roof made of palm leaves. Isaac loved his village and all the people who lived there.
The village was surrounded by a lush, green forest. There were palm trees, banana trees, ferns, and bamboo. To get to the next village, Isaac walked down the dirt road through the forest or rode his cousin’s old bike.
His family had a small farm on which they grew their own food. They ate soup and gari, a dish that looks like oatmeal and is made of boiled roots. One of Isaac’s chores was to walk down to the river and get water for his mother.
On Sundays, Isaac and his family went to church. Their meetinghouse was also made of bamboo and mud, and it had a neat, white sign: THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS. There was a big brass bell in front.
At church, Brother Ekong taught them about Jesus Christ. He read to them from the few books they had received from Salt Lake City. They sang hymns. Isaac’s favorite hymn was “Come, Come, Ye Saints.”
Isaac and many other people in his village had strong testimonies that the Church is true. They were waiting for missionaries to help them learn more about the restored gospel. Brother Ekong did not have the priesthood. He could not baptize them. More than anything, Isaac wanted to be baptized and become a member of the Church. His father told him, “The time will come when we can be baptized.”
When Isaac and his sisters went into the forest to cut sticks for firewood, he prayed for missionaries to come. While he sat on the bank of the river and watched the colorful fish swim back and forth, he sang hymns. He often pretended that the Mormon Tabernacle Choir was singing with him.
One day his father told the family that they were going to have a special meeting on Saturday. Before the meeting, they would fast for twenty-four hours. The meeting was to pray for missionaries to come.
On Saturday, Isaac and his family put on their best clothes. Isaac’s stomach growled with hunger, but he didn’t notice because he was so excited.
Soon the bell rang and the people of the village gathered at the small meetinghouse. It was very crowded. Brother Ekong led them in a hymn and then prayed that the Lord would send missionaries. Many other people took turns praying. Isaac’s mother had tears on her cheeks. They sang again; then it was time to go home.
As the people were leaving, they heard a motor. A car pulled up in front of the building and stopped. Two men and two women got out. Isaac had never seen anyone with skin so pale. Brother Ekong talked excitedly to them. Then he went to the bell and rang it loudly. Everyone quickly returned to the meetinghouse.
Brother Ekong welcomed the four strangers and sat them at the front of the building, facing the people. He told them that the village had been waiting for this glad day for many years. One of the men, Elder Rendell Mabey, stood and told them he was a missionary sent to them by the prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball.
Elder Mabey bore his testimony of the restored gospel. Then Elder Cannon bore his testimony, and their wives also bore theirs. The day was very hot, but no one wanted to leave. The people asked many questions. Elder Mabey promised to return and teach them more. He said that their time had come and that they soon could be baptized.
On the last day of December, 1978, Isaac’s family and many others gathered on the riverbank. They found a spot in the river that had a deep pool. When it was Isaac’s turn, he waded into the gentle river. Elder Mabey took him by the wrist, said the baptismal prayer, and lowered him into the water. The sunlight sparkled on the surface as Isaac waded back to shore. His heart felt warm and sparkly, too.
Twenty-one years later, Isaac stood in the pool of water with his eight-year-old son, Raymond. Isaac now held the priesthood and could baptize his son. His heart was filled with joy as he remembered the beautiful day he had been baptized in that same river. He was very grateful that his time had finally come.

Why would a person without compelling challenges, needs, or questions be interested in meeting the missionaries and listening to their lessons? Well, in my case it was love—love for a girl, a girl named Renee. I fell in love with her, and I wanted to marry her. She was different and had standards different from most young women I knew. But I fell for her and asked her to marry me—and she said no!

I was confused. I thought I was quite a catch! I was handsome, 24 years old, and a college graduate with a great job. She spoke of her goals—of marrying only someone who could take her to the temple, of having an eternal family—and she declined my offer. I wanted to continue the relationship, so I agreed to listen to the missionaries. Is this a good reason to meet with the missionaries? Well, it was for me.

Akoni is 12 years old. He lives in New Mexico, USA, in the Navajo Nation. This is an area of the United States governed by the Navajo people. More than 250,000 people live there.
When Akoni was younger, he watched his older siblings go to Young Women and Young Men.
He also saw how happy they were when they went to the temple. Akoni was excited to visit the temple too.
Akoni prepared for Young Men by going to church and talking with his family.
He asked questions about the temple so he would be ready to go inside.
“I was nervous to go to the temple for the first time,” says Akoni. “But when I’m in the temple, I feel safe.”
The closest temple to Akoni is the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple. It is a four-hour drive away. Akoni is excited that soon a new temple will be built closer.
Akoni hopes to serve a mission one day, just like his older siblings.
He has started sharing the gospel by inviting his friend to church. He wants to be an example to his younger brother and others too!

Tiesha Benedict, from Derby, Kansas, shares a room with her younger sister. She says they weren’t getting along until she realized that her goal was to spend eternity with her family, including her sister. When there are constant arguments and disagreements, living together for eternity can seem more like a punishment than a blessing. So Tiesha decided to treat her younger sister like her best friend. Tiesha says it just took a small change of attitude to make sharing a room with her sister an enjoyable experience.

I want to share with you a time when I felt that the difference between feeling the light and being surrounded by darkness. Growing up, I was not raised as a member of the Church. I was a convert, baptized by the missionaries at age 10. When I met and married my first husband, Scott, he was also a baptized member but had been in active in his youth. Scott and I lived in a great ward with many friends who invited us to baseball games and ward picnics. They encouraged us to come to church and to a Gospel Doctrine class. Next, they attended a Temple Preparation class with us and were there when we chose to attend the temple to be sealed for time and all eternity. At the time we were sealed, we were expecting our son Jake, and I felt like we were on top of the world. How little did I know that less than two years later my eternal companion would die in a tragic accident. My world went dark. The accident was nine days before my son’s second birthday, and I had only been active in the Church for two years. There were many nights that I would pour out my heart to my Heavenly Father with questions and grief. I felt so alone and empty and wondered how I could do this alone. Again, those faithful friends and ward members ministered to me faithfully. I was loved, looked after, and helped to find my new normal. I learned I was never truly alone, that my Savior had been with me during those dark hours. I learned the power of prayer, the power of priesthood blessings, the power of repentance, and the power of the Atonement. I had to grow my testimony on faith, endurance, and hope. My testimony of eternal families is my light; my use of the Atonement is my light; my covenants are my enduring light through my darkest times.

We had just moved to a new state, and I was nervous. As I was walking into my new school, I said a prayer asking Heavenly Father to let the Holy Ghost be with me. I felt a warm feeling in my chest. If you don’t know if you are feeling the Holy Ghost, see if you feel a warm feeling inside. Everybody feels it differently. It’s easiest to feel it if you say a prayer or do something good.
Joshua S., age 8, North Dakota

In the early years of the Church, the Book of Mormon was printed only in English. President Brigham Young called two missionaries to preach the gospel in Mexico and translate the Book of Mormon into Spanish. But they needed more help to do it. Little did they know that across the ocean, God had prepared a man who could give them exactly the help they needed.
Meliton Gonzalez Trejo came from a wealthy family in Spain. He studied hard in school and became an officer in the Spanish Army. He was always interested in religion, but nothing he found felt quite right. One day he heard another officer talk about a group of people who called themselves “Saints.” They belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and a prophet of God had led them to the Rocky Mountains in the United States. Meliton felt a strong desire to meet them. He joined a military expedition to the Philippines, hoping he could get to the United States later. But Meliton got so busy with his work that visiting the Saints started to feel less important.
Then Meliton became very sick. He remembered why he had come to the Philippines and prayed to God about what he should do. That night, Meliton had a special dream. He knew he was supposed to leave for the Rocky Mountains.
Once Meliton recovered from his illness, he continued his journey to the United States. He arrived in California on July 4, 1874, and headed toward Salt Lake City.
When Meliton arrived in Salt Lake, he ran into a problem. He could read English but had never spoken it. He couldn’t communicate with anyone! But he decided that if he couldn’t talk to people, he would get their attention another way. Meliton put on his Spanish Army uniform and marched up and down the city streets. Just as he hoped, many people noticed him! Finally he was spotted by a member of the Church named Brother Blanchard, a university professor who spoke Spanish. Brother Blanchard helped Meliton get settled in Salt Lake and taught him the gospel. Soon Meliton was baptized.
Brother Blanchard also introduced Meliton to President Brigham Young. Meliton told President Young that more than anything, he wanted to translate the Book of Mormon into Spanish.
President Young asked Meliton to help the missionaries who were going to Mexico translate parts of the Book of Mormon into Spanish. Meliton spent many weeks translating the English words into Spanish. Each night he reviewed his translation with the missionaries. They spoke some Spanish but felt this important translation needed a native Spanish speaker. They knew Meliton was an answer to their prayers.
In 1875 the translation was published. It was called Trozos Selectos del Libro de Mormon (Selected Passages from the Book of Mormon).
The missionaries were now ready to go to Mexico. They loaded 1,500 copies of the translated scripture onto horseback and started on their journey. For the first time, Spanish speakers were able to read the Book of Mormon in their own language! Even though Meliton had lived thousands of miles away in Spain, Heavenly Father led him to exactly where he needed to be. Because of Meliton’s courage and faith, he helped bring the word of God to countless people.
Meliton Gonzalez Trejo (1844–1917) served several missions in Mexico and baptized some of the first members of the Church there. In 1886 Meliton helped finish translating the entire Book of Mormon into Spanish.

Like many new converts, I struggled to live the Word of Wisdom and the law of tithing. Tithing was for me the most difficult. How could I possibly take something away from the little that was just barely enough? The Lord helped me understand how I could do just that by teaching me a wonderful lesson.
As I began to pay tithing, I realized I would have to put my finances in order. I immediately began to budget my money better. I made a list of all my monthly expenses, starting with tithing. I compared the list to my monthly income. To my astonishment, there was enough to live on and even a small amount for savings. I was also surprised to see how much money I had previously spent on alcohol and coffee. The Lord blessed me financially and spiritually as I worked to live His law.

Might I relate one experience that illustrates what is being done as these Health Services missionaries serve in so many countries. Several years ago I had an opportunity to visit Bolivia. On the Altiplano, high above the city of La Paz, at an altitude of 13,600 feet on a beautiful Sabbath morning, I visited a Sunday school of one of the branches. I felt the spirit of those wonderful people as they met there. I watched a wonderful Sunday School president conduct with great ability. When one of the 2-and-a-half-minute speakers did not show up, extemporaneously he delivered the 2-and-a-half-minute talk. What a spirit I felt as he bore his testimony to the divinity of the gospel. And even though I didn’t understand his Indian dialect, I felt of that spirit and that testimony.

After Sunday School, this good man introduced me to his lovely wife, the branch Primary president. Strapped to her back was a little bundle—their six-week-old baby. When they learned that I was a physician, they asked if I would come with them to their home to examine the baby to see if it was doing all right. I went with them down the unpaved streets to their little home. It was built of adobe brick, had a dirt floor, and was perhaps ten by fourteen feet—about the size of a single-car garage. As we went inside, I saw it was immaculately clean. One could feel the good spirit in that home. In addition to the parents and the baby, the family included two older sons.

The mother sat on the bed and began unwrapping the layers of blankets that she had placed around the baby to keep it warm. When the last blanket was removed, I looked down and gasped. There was a little baby that was no more than skin and bones. Untactfully I said, “What happened? Why is the baby so thin?” and then they explained to me how this mother had become very ill during the latter part of her pregnancy. There had not been enough food in that home to provide her with the nourishment she needed. She had developed all of the symptoms of what we here call toxemia of pregnancy. Somehow she had been able to give birth to that baby, but her sickness was so severe that she was unable to nurse. The family did the best they could. They bought a can of a dried-milk formula, but with an income that was barely twenty dollars a month (converted to United States currency), they couldn’t afford to buy more when the first can was gone. I asked them, “What are you feeding the baby now?” they showed me a baby bottle filled with fluid so diluted that I could have read newsprint through the bottle. The fluid contained only a few drops of milk from a tiny can of condensed milk. The can had to last three or four days. I gave them what instructions I could to help and, as I left their home, said to the branch president, giving him a few pesos, “Please see that this baby receives all the food that it needs.” I heard several weeks later from the mission president that the baby had died. It had gone past the point of no return.

Oh, if we could have brought it here to Provo to the Utah Valley LDS Hospital or to the Primary Children’s Medical Center and started intravenous feedings and some of the modern techniques that we employ here, perhaps the baby’s life could have been saved. But the baby had lived too long in that environment.

That was three years ago. Today in Bolivia nurses and a doctor, called as Health Services missionaries, are teaching through priesthood and auxiliary channels lessons on home nursing, care of the baby, care of the pregnant mother, nutrition, sanitation—a whole series of subjects that help people better understand how to stay strong and healthy. These health missionaries have investigated what local health resources exist that the people can use. They learned that this little family could have obtained milk from a source that was available in the community. And so today the Saints are being blessed through resources that exist locally that many didn’t know about before. The Saints are being blessed in this far-off land through the Health Services missionaries. And in Guatemala, Thailand, Taiwan, and many other places here upon this earth, the devoted efforts of Health Services missionaries are being extended to lift up our brothers and sisters and their nonmember friends.

Maddie watched as Mom ladled raspberry jam into canning jars. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, making the dark red fruit sparkle like rubies in the glass jars.
Mom’s face was also red. She looked tired and hot.
Maddie thought about some of the important jobs her friends’ moms had. One was an accountant. Another was an engineer. Maddie wondered why her mom didn’t have a job like those. She couldn’t help thinking that if she did, Maddie’s family would have more money. Maybe Maddie could even have some new clothes for school.
“That’s done for another year,” Mom said as she placed a lid on the last jar.
“Why do you do all that work?” Maddie asked. “We could buy jam at the store.”
Mom swiped a hand over her forehead and sank into a kitchen chair. “What’s your favorite kind of jam?” she asked.
Maddie didn’t have to think about it. “Raspberry.”
“And Dad’s?”
“Raspberry.” Maddie was beginning to understand.
“I make raspberry jam because you and your brother and your dad like it so much,” Mom said. “It makes me feel happy when I see you pulling out a jar of my jam and knowing that I made it just for you.”
Maddie thought about how Mom helped her whenever Maddie got stuck on a math problem. And how Mom was always interested to hear about how the school day went.
Maddie wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “Thanks, Mom.”
Mom returned the hug. “For what?”
“For doing the things you do,” Maddie said. “Being a mom is the most important job in the world.”

Following Thanksgiving time some years ago, I received a letter from a widow whom I had known in the stake where I served in the presidency. She had just returned from a dinner sponsored by her bishopric. Her words reflect the peace she felt and the gratitude which filled her heart:

“Dear President Monson,

“I am living in Bountiful now. I miss the people of our old stake, but let me tell you of a wonderful experience I have had. In early November all the widows and older people received an invitation to come to a lovely dinner. We were told not to worry about transportation since this would be provided by the older youth in the ward.

“At the appointed hour, a very nice young man rang the bell and took me and another sister to the stake center. He stopped the car, and two other young men walked with us to the chapel where the young ladies took us to where we removed our wraps—then into the cultural hall, where we sat and visited for a few minutes. Then they took us to the tables, where we were seated on each side by either a young woman or a young man. Then we were served a lovely Thanksgiving dinner and afterward provided a choice program.

“After the program we were given our dessert—either apple or pumpkin pie. Then we left, and on the way out we were given a plastic bag with sliced turkey and two rolls. Then the young men took us home. It was such a nice, lovely evening. Most of us shed a tear or two for the love and respect we were shown.

“President Monson, when you see young people treat others like these young people did, I feel the Church is in good hands.”

As the Swiss movers were packing our household belongings preparatory to our return to America, the doorbell rang. A special-delivery mailman had a package for us. When opened, it revealed a green pillow with an embroidered message of love on it, the handiwork of Sister Alice Rusterholz. Our hearts and feelings swelled as we thought of this wonderful older sister. For four years she had graced our Sunday dinner table with her sweet spirit and lively sense of humor. For many years as a single, unmarried sister and the only member of the Church from her family, she struggled to come to church. Early Sunday morning she would leave her humble second-floor apartment. With great effort due to a crippled leg, she would walk down the outside stairway and on to the Küsnacht train station, beginning her journey of one hour and 15 minutes by train, tram, bus, and a final walk to our meetinghouse. What a blessing it had been for us in that beautiful land to pick up Sister Rusterholz every Sunday morning, accompany her to church, and conclude with dinner in our home before returning her to her apartment.

Tears filled my eyes as I ran down the steps of the ballet studio. I had just told my teacher that I would not be in the Cinderella production because of our upcoming family vacation. My teacher told me that if I wasn’t in the Cinderella production it might ruin my chances of being in the Nutcracker, the production that followed.
I was so discouraged when I got home that I went straight to my room and cried. I thought about ballet and all that it meant to me, but I considered quitting because of the many long hours and dedication it required. Then I started thinking about a recent Sunday School lesson. The teacher encouraged us to go to the scriptures when we are in need of comfort. So I got out my triple combination and looked in the index for gospel themes I thought could be related to ballet. “Talent” seemed to stand out the most. I looked up Doctrine and Covenants 82:3, which says: “For of him unto whom much is given much is required.” [D&C 82:3]
After thinking about the meaning of those words, I decided to continue to dedicate time to ballet. I felt comforted, for I knew I had made the right decision.
The following morning I called my ballet teacher and asked if I could still be in the Cinderella production. He said I could, even though I would miss a few rehearsals during my family vacation.
At age 13, I have learned that the scriptures really can help when you seek comfort.

As I surveyed the elderly people assembled for the nursing home sacrament meeting, I was worried.
Several patients appeared to be asleep. One woman cried, over and over, “I want to go home.” Most of those who were awake stared vaguely through clouded eyes. I wondered why our Young Men and Young Women had even come to present this sacrament meeting. Other than giving them the opportunity to partake of the sacrament, why did we bother?
One of the Young Men conducted the service. It would be like any other sacrament meeting with an opening hymn, opening prayer, sacrament hymn, the passing of the sacrament, speakers, and a closing hymn.
As we sang “Come, Come Ye Saints,” I noticed that one frail sister who, until this moment, had remained perfectly still, staring off into space, sang every word from memory. When the sacrament was passed, almost every patient partook. I began to realize that the patients knew what was going on.
Following the sacrament, Shawna, the Laurel president, spoke on enduring to the end. I wondered how her words would affect people who had endured more than we could possibly imagine.
I was distracted from my thoughts by a very real presence in the room. I felt the Spirit as strongly as I’ve ever felt it before. Then I noticed that nearly every elderly brother and sister had their eyes focused on Shawna. The Spirit had linked us together as brothers and sisters, children of our Heavenly Father.
A scripture came to my mind: “And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity” (1 Cor. 13:13).
There may have been many reasons for that sacrament meeting, but the greatest of them was charity, the pure love of Christ.

I am reminded of a priest in my ward when I was bishop for the second time. This young man, I shall call him Bill, had not been to church for many years; yet, when he did gain a testimony he bore it so powerfully that he had a great influence on at least two other priests in the ward who were not terribly active. One of those priests was Bill’s younger brother and the other his brother’s friend.

Bill served a mission, and partly as a result of his influence his brother left to serve a mission before he returned home. Before Bill’s brother had finished his mission, his friend had prepared himself and left on a mission as well.

All three of these young men might have served honorable missions independent of each other’s influence, but it is impossible to measure the impact that they had on each other’s lives as they bore testimony and cared. It might be added that the influence didn’t stop there. Many of the friends of these young men were influenced by their decisions to serve missions and some perhaps served missions themselves because of the process started by that example.