Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Joseph Alleman
I joined the Church when I was 20. Shortly thereafter I married a man from the ward, and we moved because of work. When I was 22, our first son was born. At that time, my visiting teachers started visiting me regularly, even though we lived at the edge of the ward boundary.
Since I was a new mother at that time, my conscience told me that I needed to get in contact with my own mother. But I had broken off all contact with her eight years earlier when my parents divorced. Each time my visiting teachers came over, we spoke about it, and I felt that the Spirit was urging me to take this difficult step.
We discussed how I could begin rebuilding our relationship since my mother does not belong to the Church. So much had changed in my life in the eight years that had passed since our falling out. Because of the strong promptings of the Spirit, I decided to contact my mother’s mother first. My grandmother was blind, so her mail was sent to my aunt who cared for her.
I received a wonderful letter back, and we went to stay for a visit with my grandmother and my aunt. My grandmother was pleasantly surprised and asked only that I stop by to see her daughter—my mother—on our way home. She was very happy.
My grandmother was a Lutheran, and she loved the Savior. While we stayed with them, my husband would read to her each morning from the Book of Mormon. She really enjoyed it. After a few mornings, my husband and my grandmother felt so full of the Spirit that my grandmother went to her desk and pulled out a genealogy book that had belonged to my deceased grandfather and showed it to him. There were eight generations listed neatly, including even their occupations. My grandmother was very happy while we were staying with her, and I promised her that I would visit my mother on the way home, which I did.
Five weeks after our visit to my grandmother’s, she had a stroke and passed away. Two years later I performed the temple work for my ancestors from my grandmother’s information.
I now have a good relationship with my mother. We live in the same town, and she helps me with my children at times.
Without the regular visits from my visiting teachers, who encouraged and supported me through this time, I would never have dared take this step to repair my relationship with my mother. Not only I but also many generations were blessed.

Before President Hugh B. Brown was a General Authority, he served in England as an officer in the Canadian army and had great power. Men stood at attention before him and called him “sir.” One day Brother Brown received a message that he was wanted in the hospital. When he got there, someone directed him to a little room where a sick young man lay. Brother Brown remembered that he had once been that young man’s Sunday School teacher. “Brother Brown,” said the young man, “would you use your authority in my behalf? The doctors say I cannot live. Will you give me a blessing?” All the pride Brother Brown felt in wearing the uniform of the king disappeared as he laid his hands upon the boy’s head and gave him a blessing. The help that the boy needed was not from any authority of an officer in the king’s army but from the authority of the priesthood.

An officer of Goldman Sachs, a leading investment brokerage company, recently called me, and because I was out of town, he left a voice mail message with a name I recognized as one of my former missionaries. I called the man back and offered to provide a reference for this individual but was informed that that was the last thing he needed. The young man had been hired about four years ago as he graduated from BYU. The Goldman Sachs manager called me merely to update me and report how this young, new employee was doing. And what a report it was. I was told that this former missionary was a “star of Wall Street,” the “brightest young man we ever hired.” I thought this businessman was simply given to superlatives until I heard more of the story. This BYU graduate had gone to work for Goldman Sachs, then had been hired away by Merrill Lynch. After about a year Goldman Sachs managed to hire him back, but it cost them about as much as the university pays for three or four finance professors. Now, the manager told me, they were really worried because this young man will be taking a leave to get an MBA at Harvard this fall, and they are afraid some other firm will hire him away when he completes his degree.
How impressed I was to get this report. I suspect a big part of this young man’s bright future is not only his talent but the fact that he is trustworthy. How important it is that he be not only professionally good but morally so as well. How impressed I was that he would walk away from the kind of money he was making to pursue further education. Too many young people come to believe that education’s sole value is in providing a good job with a substantial income. These things are obviously not his motivation; he seeks education because he is anxious to improve himself. He is in fierce competition with himself.
Many of you anxiously seek some of the same rewards that have come to this young man. I remind you that you needn’t take shortcuts to such rewards. They will come to you as you do the right things and do honor to your family, to your community, to this university, and to the Church.

The ongoing family remembrance of our little Patrick began at the time I dedicated his grave on a lovely August afternoon in 1972.
Patrick was born in Abington, Pennsylvania, and because of a complication at birth he lived only six days. We lived near a lovely little cemetery, but decided that he should be buried instead in a location near where we would want our eventual home to be—or at least in an area we could easily visit, since corporate assignments might require us to move frequently for many years.
We therefore held the funeral and buried him in Utah, where we grew up and where our parents lived. Since then we have moved to two different European countries on assignment, and then back to Utah. We are grateful for having made that decision.
In the prayer of dedication at the gravesite, I asked fervently that our family might live to be worthy to join Patrick someday in that perfect place where he now is. Six years later, we still pray often for that same blessing and find that it is a significant family encouragement and challenge to work toward that goal.
We not only pray that we might someday meet and again associate with this special son and brother, but we also feel it is appropriate to pray for his current success and welfare. Nevertheless, we know that all is well with him because of the promise of the Lord that little children who die in infancy are perfect and worthy of his kingdom.
Inasmuch as we are now fortunate to live close to the cemetery where Patrick is buried, we go there from time to time to have family prayer. Sometimes one of our children will say, “Can we please stop at Patrick’s grave to have prayer?” Whenever we do, it provides us with a special teaching moment to talk with the children about things important, sacred, and eternal.
Since Patrick is, we feel, as much a part of our family as any living earthly child, we believe there is value to be gained from remembering his birthday and even in sharing a birthday cake baked in his honor. To have the children thus see our total faith as parents that Patrick is real, that his little body will be resurrected, and that we may be joined again eternally as a family is an advantage that we as parents would not want to lose.
Because four of our children have been born since Patrick died, we are grateful for the white leather book of remembrance we compiled to remember him by. In it we have his certificates, photos from the hospital and of the funeral and burial, related correspondence, and other small treasures. As we show the children this book of remembrance, Patrick remains real to those who knew him and becomes real to the children who did not meet him here.
My wife, Sandy, and I are most thankful for the fact that the Lord allowed the birth and death of this little boy to be one of the most beautiful and spiritual family experiences we have been privileged to have since our marriage. The Lord made Patrick’s presence and even his death sweet to us, and we cherish not only the memory of Patrick himself, but also the memory of those few special and sacred days we spent together. At that time we studied as thoroughly as possible the doctrines and writings of the Church regarding little children who die. As parents and as a family we cannot express how grateful we are for those promises and the future they hold. I want to say that we do not as a family constantly think and talk about Patrick, but we make a conscious effort not to forget him, nor to forget the special family challenge and promise he has given us.

The first things I noticed among the hustling paramedics and the wailing sirens that cold January morning in Utah were Esther’s hands. Her long, strong fingers, which had always been so busy serving others, were now cramped and motionless. My own hands reached out to warm hers, and her closed eyes fluttered open briefly. She looked around as though to identify who was near her.
“It’s okay, Esther,” I said, trying to comfort her as I straightened her nightgown and covered her with a blanket. “The doctors will find out what has happened to you.” I felt Esther relax; then we were both swept into the ambulance and rushed to the nearby hospital.
To say Esther was only a neighbor is like describing the sun as only a source of light. Esther’s hands had reached out to me when I was a teenager and had led me to the treasures in my junior high school library. For more than 40 years, her hands had dispensed knowledge and service throughout the neighborhood. She had hired and patiently taught many young people how to prune and care for her orchards, how to improve the neighborhood, and how to love their neighbors. She had reached out to old and new alike, and her hands had sewn the fabric of our block into a quilt of friendship that spread far beyond its physical boundaries.
All that busy winter, I had yearned to help someone. But I knew it was a futile desire. I was working full time in a very stressful job, and I was the harried mother of five very involved and very busy children, ages 5 to 25, including two who were getting married within weeks of each other. My family, work, Church and community responsibilities had strained my capacity to do more than survive each day. But something in the depths of my being kept calling out, wanting to help someone in some way.
Many mornings, as I checked off my accomplishments of the previous day and plotted my strategy for meeting the struggles of the dawning one, I had recalled the Lord’s admonition to “not run faster or labor more than you have strength,” (see D&C 10:4), and I had thought, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll find time to take dinner to someone or to take flowers to a sick friend.”
Service, to me, was a physical object one presented as a gift: it was homemade candy or doughnuts at Christmas, freshly baked bread for a new neighbor, or outgrown clothes for needy families. Now, as I sat at Esther’s bedside on a cold wintry day, Esther taught me that service was something else.
“Esther, squeeze my hand,” the doctor coaxed. “Come on, Esther, you can squeeze my hand.”
“I’m trying,” Esther answered, but her words collapsed into themselves, and her voice trailed off. The doctor shook his head, slipping his hand from Esther’s unmoving one.
“Esther, they are going to move you to another room now,” I explained as they wheeled her bed out of the emergency room. “It’s going to be all right.” Her frightened eyes searched mine for reassurance and then closed in peace.
Surprisingly, despite my fear for Esther, I felt an unusual sense of peace. For once in my harried, over-full life, I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. I wasn’t worried about my list of Saturday chores. I wasn’t concerned about my family. They knew I was with Esther, and their prayers were with me in that cramped, bare cubicle.
Morning edged into afternoon. I called Esther’s family in another state and told them of the situation. I served as a link between the hospital, Esther, and her family members, who were trying to cope with this emergency. And I talked to Esther.
As I sat by Esther, I watched storm clouds gather and snow begin to fall. My thoughts went back 35 years to when my grandmother had had her final stroke. Others had been frightened of the silent stranger who inhabited my grandmother’s frail body, but my mother had told us to hold her hand, to stroke it, and to talk to her.
“I think she can hear you, even if she can’t communicate,” my mother had said. “She needs to hear and feel your love. Talk to her, touch her, and let her know you love her.”
I hadn’t thought of my mother’s words for many years, but they came back as I talked to Esther, stroked her immobile hands, and filled the tiny room with my whispered prayers.
Too soon the room was crowded with Esther’s family, and I eased out of their way as they gathered around her. When they reached out to caress her still hands, stroke her hair, and talk to her, the urgent need that had held me captive all morning disappeared.
“She’s slipped into a deep coma,” the nurse explained to Esther’s loved ones. “Earlier she was trying to communicate, but now she’s unconscious and unaware.”
I stood at the doorway and took one last look at Esther’s inert hands. They were more relaxed now, but they remained open and reaching out to others. I dashed tears of appreciation from my eyes and thanked Esther for her last gift to me.

Other experiences may not be so dramatic but are nevertheless real and heartwarming. I recall an elderly couple whose frame home, situated at the end of a dirt lane, had not seen a coat of paint for too many years. These were neat and tidy people; they were concerned about the appearance of their small house. In a moment of inspiration I called, not upon the elders quorum or upon volunteers to wield paint brushes, but rather, following the welfare handbook, upon the family members who lived in other areas. Four sons-in-law and four daughters took brushes in hand and participated in the project. The paint had been provided by a dealer located in our area. The result was a transformation not only of the house but of the family. The children determined how they might best help mother and dad in their old age. They did so voluntarily and with gladness of heart. A house was painted, a family united, and respect preserved.

Four new missionaries had just arrived from the MTC with all their luggage, hair cuts, anticipation, and enthusiasm. They were seated in the study of the Canada Calgary Mission Home, waiting anxiously for their first assignments. How could I, as their mission president, know where to send them and who to assign them to? Of course I prayed diligently and prepared spiritually to receive inspiration, and inspiration came.
But I also knew that as I talked individually with these missionaries, I would discover that some were better prepared for the mission field than others, that some brought certain traits with them that would help them succeed as a missionary, while others brought with them challenges they would have to overcome in order to be effective.
Let me give you several examples. I’ve used made-up names, but the stories are all true.
When I asked Elder Werker to tell me about himself, I found out he had worked for his father.
“What business?”
“Construction.”
“Was it hard work?”
“Dad expected us to go to work as soon as it was light enough to see, and to work until the job was finished or until it was too dark to see.”
“Do you think you’ll have to work that hard here?”
“I don’t think I should work any less for the Lord than I do for my father. Do you?”
The answer was obvious.
Four or five weeks later at a zone conference, Elder Werker’s companion, who was a hard worker too, said, “President, how long do I have to train Elder Werker? The pace is killing me!”
By the end of his mission, Elder Werker had helped bring 56 people into the Church.
Elder Werker had something in common with a lot of successful missionaries. He came into the mission field with a knowledge of work. He knew what it meant to keep going even when he was tired or discouraged. He would stick with a job until it was completed.
President Benson has stated, “I have often said one of the greatest secrets of missionary work is work! If a missionary works, he will get the Spirit; if he gets the Spirit, he will teach by the Spirit; and if he teaches by the Spirit, he will touch the hearts of the people and he will be happy. There will be no homesickness, no worrying about families, for all time and talents and interests are centered on the work of the ministry. Work, work, work—there is no satisfactory substitute, especially in missionary work” (Texas San Antonio Mission, Mar. 2, 1986, in TheTeachings of Ezra Taft Benson, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1988, p. 200).
Elder Strong was six feet, two inches tall and weighed 220 pounds. He looked like he should be a linebacker for an American football team. But he seemed very unsure of himself when I asked what his strengths as a missionary would be.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, do you have some goals, something you’d like to accomplish while you’re here?”
“Uhm, well, I haven’t really … I don’t know.”
That night, after the missionaries were in bed, I went to my office. I always did this, in case someone felt a need to talk with me. The office was just down the stairs and two doors away from the room where the elders were sleeping.
In a few minutes, I heard someone tap on the door.
It was Elder Strong.
“I have to go home, president.”
“Tell me about it.”
After tears and a tender moment or two, he said at first that he didn’t have a testimony, that he was unsure of himself, that he couldn’t learn the scriptures, and a number of other excuses. But after we talked a little longer, it became evident that the real problem was that Elder Strong was homesick.
Until he entered the MTC, he had never been away from home overnight. He was so attached to his mother that even though he had just seen her at the airport a few hours ago, he felt he had to phone her and tell her that everything was all right. She had insisted that he call when he arrived, and he hadn’t.
So I talked to his mother for him.
Elder Strong had a problem that a lot of missionaries have to deal with—homesickness. It isn’t wrong to love your family. And it’s all right to miss them when you’re apart. But until you can stop constantly thinking about home and get on with your work, you’re not going to be fully involved as a missionary.
I think parents can do a lot in this area to help their sons (or daughters) be better prepared. Chaperoned and supervised Church programs offer young people the opportunity to learn what it’s like to be out on their own at youth conference, summer camp, or Scout camp.
A young person would benefit from visiting aunts and uncles or grandparents, staying overnight or over a weekend, gradually adjusting to the experience of being apart from the immediate family. If it’s feasible, attending college for a semester or two before entering the mission field may help a prospective missionary get used to living away from home.
Another tip: learn to write letters. This is the approved method for missionaries and parents to keep in touch. Missionaries and their parents should exchange letters, but only once a week.
In addition to questions about his goals and strengths, I asked Elder Handsome about his social life.
“Tell me about your girlfriends.”
He virtually leaped out of his chair.
“Girlfriend, not friends. There is a one and only. She’s the greatest. I can’t live without her.”
“What will it do to your mission when she marries someone else?”
“If I hear of her even dating anybody else, I am gone, I am history, I am out of here. I’ll go straight home.”
For months Elder Handsome struggled to become involved in his mission. He was continually figuring out clever things to write to his “one and only.” He spent much of his time thinking about her instead of the work.
When the “Dear John” came, Elder Handsome struggled even more. But he did not go home. He eventually became an outstanding missionary and a dedicated district and zone leader. He learned to love his mission, his area, the prospective members, and the local members.
A lot of elders have trouble leaving a girlfriend behind. And in this area, I think young women can help a lot. Recall the words of President Benson: “You can have a positive influence in motivating young men to serve full-time missions. Let the young men of your acquaintance know that you expect them to assume their missionary responsibilities, that you personally want them to serve in mission field, because you know that’s where the Lord wants them.
“Avoid steady dating with a young man prior to the time of his mission call. If your relationship with him is more casual, then he can make that decision to serve more easily and also can concentrate his full energies on his missionary work instead of the girlfriend back home” (Ensign, Nov. 1986, pp. 82–83).
And you young men may want to remember this example: Some years ago in our ward, the priests quorum adviser and his wife would go on double dates with the priests. They urged the young men to enjoy dating a number of young women, and cautioned them not to become involved with just one person at a time when such involvement could preclude a mission.
The adviser often reminded the young men before their mission, they weren’t ready to compete for jobs and success. “Neighbors look after you when you’re the neighbor’s kid,” he said. “But you become a married adult, you enter a business and professional world that’s highly competitive—you need the growth, activities, and training that come from a mission, school, and apprenticeships or other training before you’re ready for the awesome responsibilities of earning a living, raising a family, and competing in an adult world.”
Elder Newcome was a little bit nervous when he entered the office for his personal interview. Earlier, when all of us met together, I had noticed that he had trouble reading the scriptures.
“I’m a new convert. I’ve only been a member of the Church for a little over a year.”
“And you feel like you’ll never catch up with the others?”
“I’ve always had a hard time learning. I don’t know a lot about the details of the Church.”
“How do you feel about the Book of Mormon and the gospel?”
“The Spirit has born witness to me. I know they’re true.”
When I heard that, I knew he’d do well.
Elder Newcome was assigned to an area where a counselor in the stake presidency lived. That counselor came to me as the mission president and said, “I have a very well educated 29-year-old friend who has had a lot of problems in his life. He’s finally searching for some answers, and he’s anxious to be taught the gospel. Do you have some good elders who can teach him?”
At first I thought about sending my assistants. But the Spirit whispered to me that this was the assigned area for Elder Newcome and his companion, and this was a job for them.
Two weeks later, I had the opportunity of meeting with this member of the stake presidency and the investigator as well. They were both very complimentary of the missionaries and their ability to teach. A short time later, the investigator was baptized, and I spoke with him and the counselor again.
“Did you know that Elder Newcome cannot read?” the counselor asked me.
“Yes, I know,” I said with emotion. “But he knows our Father in Heaven and his Son.”
“And he teaches with the Spirit,” said our newly baptized friend.
Most missionaries have more time to prepare than Elder Newcome did. Yet some of them fail to use their preparation time wisely. Missionaries should learn what it means to have faith, to repent, to feel the Holy Ghost, and to search the scriptures. Even those who have not known the gospel for a long time can begin now to learn and grow, so that they have some background in these areas when they arrive in the mission field.
I can think of a lot of other missionaries who sat in my office during the three years I served in Canada. Some struggled with shyness or fear of meeting people, and eventually overcame it. Some were unprepared financially and wished they had saved more money, while others had saved for years and paid for their entire mission themselves. Some spent their whole mission reliving high school successes. Some looked for excuses to stay in their apartment if it was raining, snowing, or cold. Some had a natural ability to understand others. And some had a deep knowledge of doctrine and principles.
Eventually, most of them grew to understand the real reason they were on a mission—to bring souls to Christ, to ensure that those baptized were truly converted, to love and serve others.
“And now, behold, I say unto you, that the thing which will be of the most worth unto you will be to declare repentance unto this people, that you may bring souls unto me, that you may rest with them in the kingdom of my Father” (D&C 15:6 and D&C 16:6).
Over the three years I observed another common trait that I think distinguished those who gave the best service. They had participated in things that require consistent doing—music, competitive sports, farming, academics, scripture study (especially the Book of Mormon), seminary—and as a result had embedded in their lives the understanding that work is worthwhile. They had learned that dedication pays, that self-discipline is not a dirty word.
I also learned that most of those who came to mission field were surprised that their preparation time passed so rapidly. They seemed to be saying “Get ready, get set … wait a minute, I’m already here!”
Don’t let yourself get caught in that situation. You can begin preparing today.

Several years ago, my wife, Shelly, and I were called to preside over the Washington DC North Mission. Shortly after we began our service in June 2019, local Church members Brent and Meg Pratt invited us and our five children over for dinner at their home in Potomac, Maryland. Brent and I happen to be distant cousins. Before we sat down to eat, Brent showed us a painting that he had commissioned from the talented Latter-day Saint artist Julie Rogers. The painting features our shared great-great-grandparents, William and Rachel Atkin, pulling a handcart with all their worldly belongings and two infant children across the fast-moving Green River in Wyoming.

This is how William Atkin later remembered that moment from August 1859:
We again labored in pulling our cart, and when we came to Green River, we found the [handcart] train had crossed and gone; and we were alone on its banks. We looked at the river, and I said to my wife, “We cannot cross this river alone.” She said, “No, but the Lord will help us over.” At these words, my heart seemed to leap for joy, and I said, “Yes, He surely will.” . . . [We] then knelt down on the ground, in all humbleness, and in the sincerity of our souls we told our Heavenly Father that we were doing all in our power to keep His commandments to gather to the land of Zion and now we had come to this river, and we could not cross it alone, and we knew that all power was in His hand, and we relied on Him to assist us over.

After pleading for help, William and Rachel then experienced a miracle:
We started into the stream, and as we did so we could see the deep water just ahead of us, and the next step we expected to step into the deep water, but when we took that step, the deep water was still ahead, and thus it was all the way across, and to our surprise we had not wet the axletree of our cart, and we were truly thankful to our Heavenly Father that we landed on the other bank in safety.

My great-great-grandparents’ difficult choices to accept the gospel in England, cross the Atlantic by ship, pull a handcart a thousand miles over rocky terrain, and remain faithful to their covenants in a new home profoundly changed generations of people. The decision by the Atkins to consecrate and gather with the Latter-day Saints, even if it meant crossing the Green River at their loneliest moment, made it possible for me, as their great-great-grandson, to be here today enjoying the blessings of the gospel.

Recently a young father bore his testimony regarding his contribution to the temple fund. His challenge by his bishop was to accept a suggested assessment for the contribution to the temple fund. This amount totaled nearly all he had saved through the years to build his own home. After discussing this with his wife and his children, they decided to give to the Lord all they had in their savings account for the building of the temple in Tokyo, and they gave up their dream of a new home.
One day, not too long after making this contribution to the bishop, the man’s superiors called him into the office and unexpectedly gave him a promotion in the company, with a large increase in his salary, and also with the promotion came an allowance for a new home.

A mother of seven, Margaret Swensen Lifferth emphasizes that parents need to be present for the small moments in the lives of their children. She recalls a time when one of her children, age four, came crying into the house after a disagreement with his playmates. “I just pulled him onto my lap and said, ‘What can we do?’ We figured out that he could take a plate of cookies to his friends, and the problem was solved.
“It is the small moments like these that are really the teaching moments, that set the example of how our children are going to address the world,” she says.

A full-time mission is an event Brian’s in full training for. He often brings friends from high school to church and seminary with him, hoping to interest them in the gospel.
Victor Venegas, 18, who joined the Church three years ago, says Brian’s friendship helped him feel welcome in the branch. “Brian and I have been friends since I joined the Church,” says Victor, who is also on Hempstead’s baseball team.
“When I first went to church everybody was nice, so I kept coming back,” he says.

I can remember when I was called as a bishop, my predecessor, Bishop Russell Johnson, warned me that I would have to be careful what I asked the members to do. He said, “Some will respond to every suggestion, even at great sacrifice.” He mentioned one widow in her 80s who had cared for both a husband and a son through long illnesses before they passed away. Bishop Johnson said that despite having small resources, she would always try to respond. I found this to be true. Every time I mentioned the need for contributions or service to bless others, Sarah was often the first to respond.
One Saturday another sister called me and said, “Bishop, come quick! Save Sarah!” This sister reported that 80-year-old Sarah was on top of a ladder cleaning out this neighbor’s rain gutters. This sister was terrified that Sarah would fall and wanted the bishop to intervene.
I am not suggesting that everyone can or should imitate Sarah. Some feel guilty because they cannot meet every need immediately. I love the quote Elder Neal A. Maxwell often used from Anne Morrow Lindbergh: “My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.” King Benjamin taught, “See that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength.” But he added that we should be diligent.
My heart rejoices as I observe the Saints all over the Church doing everything they can to provide Christlike service wherever there is a need. Because of member contributions, the Church can quietly and quickly, without fanfare, respond to needs all over the world. The Church is already responding to the natural disasters in the Philippines, the Pacific Islands, and Indonesia.
Last year our members responded to Hurricane Gustav. The Church worked closely with a humanitarian organization led by Martin Luther King III. Mr. King subsequently visited Salt Lake City and said: “I originally came to express my appreciation to the Church for their humanitarian support, but I quickly learned that the essence of who you are is so much deeper and profound. Between the Humanitarian Center, Welfare Square, and the temple open house, I now have a greater appreciation for why you do what you do.”

A radio announcement asking for volunteer “victims” in a simulated aircrash brought a quick response from alert Aaronic Priesthood youths and Young Women in the Indianapolis area. Over 100 Beehive girls and Scouts participated.
The emergency situation involved three hospitals, only two of which were alerted before the emergency. The youths were prepared with signs stating the nature of their injuries and at the appointed time were hauled off in ambulances to hospitals for treatment.
Beds were prepared for the victims, with doctors and nurses using first aid in response to each young person’s needs. Emergency “operations” were performed on the more seriously injured.
When it was all over the Beehives and Scouts emerged convinced that service projects were something special.

Who would think that a fire in a sorority house could lead to new progress for the Church? The Alphi Xi Delta sorority house, located adjacent to the University of Michigan campus, caught fire last spring, and the first floor was seriously damaged while the upper two floors suffered smoke damage. Rather than make repairs the sorority sold the handsome brick structure to the Church. Plans were soon under way to make the ideally located building an institute of religion. Contractors took care of the major renovation but members of the Ann Arbor Ward subcontracted the painting of the structure as a building fund project for the new ward house.
Once the work was completed, the Ann Arbor Ward and the University First and Second Branches opened the building for public viewing in a “Meet the Mormons” night. Members and their non-Mormon friends were met with displays on Church publications, the Welfare Program, family home evening, seminary and institute, the Church auxiliaries, genealogy, and restoration. Tours were conducted past the displays and into the Relief Society room where the film “In This Holy Place” was being shown.
Currently classes are being held in the building and are attended by university students and Church members in Ann Arbor and the surrounding area. According to Warner Woodworth, director of the institute, the building is “a religious education center to bridge the gap between spiritual life and academic life.”

As the years passed, Eduardo married and started a family of his own. By the time most of his five children began to leave home, he still could not read and had little prospect of ever learning how. That changed one day when he chased off several local boys who were heckling two Latter-day Saint missionaries in front of his home. He invited the missionaries in, and before long he and his wife, María, were taking the discussions.
“I had a hard time understanding anything they said because they spoke little Spanish,” Eduardo recalls, “but they showed me a pamphlet that had pictures of the Savior and of the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. I thought the pictures they showed us and the things they taught us were beautiful.”
Soon those missionaries were replaced by others, including a native Spanish speaker. Eduardo and María, who had lost an infant daughter to death a few years earlier, were touched by the Church film Families Are Forever. They, along with their youngest son, Osvaldo, were soon baptized.
With Eduardo’s baptism in 1987 came a desire to strengthen his testimony by reading the Book of Mormon. “How do I learn to read?” he asked his wife. María told him to look at the letters, put them together in his mind, try to sound out words, and then attempt to read aloud. With practice, she assured him, he would eventually learn to read.
Eduardo, then 45, knew the sounds of many letters, but he had not attempted to read since leaving school nearly four decades before.
With a prayer in his heart, Eduardo sat down one hot summer day in a shady spot in the backyard of his home. “There,” he says, “I determined to make the attempt.”
María says she never would have imagined what happened next. As she worked in the kitchen, she listened off and on as Eduardo attempted to sound out letters and words. “Suddenly I heard him speaking rapidly,” she says. “I listened and realized that he was reading—fluently. Less than half an hour had passed, and he was reading!”
Eduardo was so immersed in his attempt that he hadn’t realized he was reading. But as he read, he recalls, “I felt a fire burning within me.” Frightened and surprised, Eduardo called to his wife, “Mami, what is happening to me?”
“It’s the Spirit of the Lord,” María replied. “You are reading fluently!”
As she recalls the experience, María says, “It was something we can never deny.”
Eduardo adds, “The day I learned to read is also the day I gained my testimony of the Book of Mormon and its power.”
From then on, Eduardo began arising at 4:00 a.m. to read the Book of Mormon before going to work. He then read the Doctrine and Covenants, followed by the Bible. A library now graces the Contreras home, where few books were found before 1987.
As Eduardo’s and María’s gospel knowledge grew, so did their testimonies. When their son Osvaldo died following a traffic accident in 2001, their testimonies—coupled with powerful spiritual experiences during prayer and in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, where they and Osvaldo had been sealed—helped them deal with their loss.
“Perhaps some parents would have gone crazy,” Eduardo says, “but we felt a calmness that said, ‘Your son is well.’ Of course we wept. He was a good son, and we miss him. But we have been sealed in the temple, and we know where he is.”
Thanks to tutoring from a member of his ward, Eduardo also learned to write. “Before,” he says, “I couldn’t even sign my name.”
With the light of literacy, Eduardo came to understand the truthfulness of his grandfather’s words.
“We are here on earth so we can progress a little more each day,” he says. By learning to read and write, he adds, he is showing his children and grandchildren that it is never too late to learn, improve, and become what God wants us to become. “Because I can read, I learn something new every day,” he says.
Today Brother Contreras can read anything he wants to read, including the newspapers he once sold as an illiterate child. The scriptures remain his favorite books, especially the Book of Mormon. He has read it cover to cover eight times.
“For me the Book of Mormon was the door,” he says, still grateful for how literacy and the gospel have changed his life. “The Book of Mormon was everything to me. It is everything to me. I feel the Spirit every time I open it to read.”

I remember as a young man receiving in my home two young men. (Strangely enough, they had the same first name: Elder!) They showed our family the Book of Mormon, a divine evidence of the Lord’s care and love for his children. They declared to our family the message of the restoration of the gospel, the divine sonship of Christ, the divine mission of Joseph Smith, and the divinity of this church. Their message and their willingness to follow the prophet’s call changed our lives.

I've asked my daughter, Sarah, to briefly share something about what it is like to be a grandchild of the Prophet.

When I was a little girl, my Grandpa would sing to me an old Boy Scout song that went something like,
"The horses went around.Their feet were on the ground.Who's going to feed the cat while we're away, away?Go get the ax, there's a hair on baby's chin.Oh, a boy's best friend is his mother, his mother."
Grandpa would slightly alter the last phrase to,
"Oh, a girl's best friend is her Grandpa, her Grandpa."
Every time I would see him, my Grandpa would ask me, "Who's a girl's best friend?" I would enthusiastically reply, "Grandpa!"
As I've grown, I've realized that President Monson is, indeed, a wonderful best friend to have.

A best friend is someone to have fun with. Grandpa loves to create memories, and he would always plan fun activities for us, his grandchildren. We loved our fishing outings, going to breakfast, and trips to the amusement park. I distinctly remember thinking that my Grandpa was very cool because he rode with me on the roller coaster at Lagoon and on Space Mountain at Disneyland!

A best friend is someone who is interested in your life. It was always a nice feeling to know that Grandpa was proud of my good grades and he always attended my piano recitals. He was also interested in my friends. When I was dating my husband, Grandpa called and asked us out on a "double date" to the symphony. I thought nothing of it as I was accustomed to spending a lot of time with my grandparents. My husband, however, later confessed that he had never been more nervous for a date in his life! We all had a great time.

Lastly, and most importantly, a best friend is someone you love. President Monson is a happy person. Just being where he is brings me a sense of great joy. Some of my happiest memories have been simple moments like driving in the car with my grandparents or spending Sunday evenings together at their home.

Now, I'm a grown woman with a young family of my own. I live across the country in Connecticut. But, Grandpa still calls me on the phone just to say "hello" and to see how I'm doing. I know he loves me and I love him.

Even today, President Monson will ask me the question, "Who's a girl's best friend?" The answer is and always will be the same . . . "Grandpa!"

A year earlier, everything had been in place for the journey. Both of the parents and all eight children living at home had worked hard to earn and save enough money. (The oldest son was married and had moved from home; another son had died.) Brother Paronda and his boys raised and sold corn, rice, potatoes, melons, and bananas. Sister Paronda and the three daughters tended their sari-sari store (a small neighborhood retail store where they sell “a little bit of everything”). And the older sons took turns driving the family’s jeepney (a small passenger bus) to earn extra money. Then, when all the preparations had been made, Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children had received temple recommends.

But just before they were to leave for Manila, their jeepney was in an accident, and two passengers were seriously injured. The jeepney was not insured, and the family’s temple fund was depleted as Brother Paronda paid for medical treatments, including hospitalization, for the injured passengers. The temple trip had to be postponed.

“Sometimes in the world we encounter a lot of problems,” says daughter Marilyn. “But whatever hardship or persecution we encounter, we can live happily by obeying what the Lord asks us to do. Nothing is impossible with the Lord if we have faith that he will help us.”

Eleven months after the jeepney accident, they had finally saved enough money again to make the trip. Then the typhoon hit! Their home and store were spared, but their crops were destroyed. Streets were flooded, and travel was impossible.

Surrounded by chaos, they still felt that their most urgent need was to get to the temple immediately. “We were in a hurry to be sealed,” explains Brother Paronda. Unfortunately, in only two or three days the temple would close for several weeks.

Finally, during the night at the height of the storm, the family knelt in prayer. “We asked the Lord to stop the storm so we could go,” says Brother Paronda. “Heavenly Father answered our prayer. The storm stopped during the night, and we had good weather for our journey.”

The next day, they rented a jeepney (their own was still not in running condition), and Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children crowded inside for the fifteen-hour trip. After driving through the night, they arrived at the temple the day before it was to close. Immediately they changed into white clothes, and everyone who was old enough (father, mother, and six children) received the temple endowment.

Then the parents were sealed to each other, and the children were sealed to them—including their son Alan who had died twelve years earlier as an eight-month-old baby. “Even though Alan isn’t living with us at this time,” says Marilyn, “we know that someday we will be together again. He is still a part of our family.”

“I am so grateful,” says Sister Nelly Paronda, “that my whole family can now be together forever.”

When they left the temple that day, it was late. And they had had no rest from their journey. “But we did not feel tired or hungry,” says Marilyn. “We felt very happy that the Lord had answered our prayers.”

The following day, they attended the temple again. Later, the oldest son, Noel, was sealed in the temple with his wife and children. And family members have returned to do ordinance work for grandparents and great-grandparents.

Brother Paronda was the first Filipino to serve as president of the Goa Branch. He is currently serving as the first Philippine president of the Goa District. Looking back, he puts the jeepney accident and the typhoon into perspective: “They were trials and challenges to prove how faithful we would be.”

Sister Lee Vashti, Ma On Shan Ward, Hong Kong Tolo Harbour Stake, learned a similar lesson when the young men and young women in the Hong Kong stakes and their parents gathered to assemble gift packages for elderly single residents of the city. Then they separated into small groups to clean the apartments of the elderly and to spend some time talking with those who live alone and typically have few, if any, visitors.
Lee says, “I felt slightly put off when I first realized that I was assigned to clean someone’s apartment in the unbearably hot and humid Hong Kong weather. What’s more, I was working with another ward’s youth who were almost total strangers to me. Only now do I realize that this service activity was about helping others and not about spending a morning with friends.”
As she helped clean the apartment and spent some time visiting, she gained firsthand knowledge of how important it is to give time and attention to someone who appreciates the chance to visit.
She says, “The senior’s house was well organized, and everything had its own place in the small apartment: a long bench off to the side of the wall with a small TV right across from it and a bunk bed in the corner of the room. There wasn’t much for my group to do, but we still wiped the top of the walls and the lights, and visited with our senior friend. I gained a valuable lesson about my attitude. This was not about me. This was about forgetting my wants and going to help another. Once I understood this simple concept, I realized that I had had fun—even without my friends. Not only had I given service to someone, but I also had made new friends.”

One morning as my companion and I were leaving our flat for the day, I wasn’t very happy. I wanted to take the car that day, but we have a rule in the mission that we have to “car fast” (walk, not drive) for two days each week—and this was one of those days. I was not happy about having to walk, and as we left I said a prayer asking that I might be able to see the reason why we had to “car fast.”
We walked down the road and talked to a few people. As we turned onto another long road, I noticed a man with two children. I had the distinct impression to talk to him. However, to my shame, I initially thought, “He’s so far away.”
Again the impression came, and again I ignored it. Suddenly the man noticed I was looking at him, and he yelled, “G’day, boys.” I crossed the street and said hello. We chatted for a minute, and I found out his name is Daniel and his grandmother is a member of the Church. He told us we could come to his house and teach him and his boys, and the boys seemed keen.
Three months later I had the wonderful experience of witnessing the baptisms of Daniel and one of his sons. Daniel had grown closer to the Lord in numerous ways. He had changed his life and sincerely repented of past sins, and through great effort and total commitment, he was worthy to be baptized and confirmed.
We recently visited Daniel and his family. He told us his wife is now interested in learning more about the Church. She said that it seems she, too, will be baptized.
It has been a humbling and spiritual experience to see the family progress. It causes me to reflect on the mercy and goodness of God, who would reach down and answer my simple prayer. I know that everything the Lord commands has a purpose. I know that He is preparing people to hear the gospel and that I have to be obedient for them to come to me and for me to be led to them.