Gospel Story Finder

My spirit seemed to resonate with the exposure I had as the missionaries taught my sister, but my parents concluded that as a 10-year-old boy, I was too young to make important decisions and was forbidden to join the Church. However, through the constant efforts of my sister Carol and her husband, David Dellinger, in March 1978, my father, mother, younger sister, and I were all baptised. A year later my older brother, Leon, and his wife, Elizabeth, entered the waters of baptism. All my immediate family were now members of the Church.

I had a special experience after reading a quote from an Apostle about simple but effective ways to gain a testimony. When I finished reading it, I immediately remembered a friend whose testimony was wavering. I quickly wrote her a letter and included the quotation.
I took the letter to her home, and I read it to her. At the end I bore my testimony. I can’t describe the powerful spirit that was present. My friend was surprised and thanked me for sharing the quote with her.
From that moment my friend started to change. She began to read the scriptures, pray more often, and attend church. Whenever we visited each other, we shared a spiritual thought and our testimonies. Today she is very active in the ward and serves as my counselor in the Laurel class presidency.Yésica Florencia Martín, Santos Lugares Ward, Argentina Buenos Aires West Stake

On Easter Sunday some years ago, my four-year-old son Ben came down the hallway of our meetinghouse after Primary, happily waving the paper he had colored. He called out with pure excitement, “Mom, Mom, have you heard about the Resurrection?” He wanted to make sure I had heard the good news. Something his Primary teacher had said really touched Ben’s heart so that he joyfully began to understand the Resurrection. How nice it would be for all of us to feel that same joy every Easter!

The branch president of the Kingston Branch of the Church wore his own identifying label. Gustav Wacker was from the old country. He spoke English with a thick accent. He never owned or drove a car. He plied the trade of a barber. The highlight of his day would be when he had the privilege of cutting the hair of a missionary. Never would there be a charge. Indeed, he would reach deep into his pockets and give the missionaries all of his tips for the day. If it were raining, as it often does in Kingston, President Wacker would call a taxi and send the missionaries to their apartment by taxi, while he himself, at day’s end, would lock the small shop and walk home—in the driving rain.
I first met Gustav Wacker when I noticed that his tithing paid was far in excess of that expected from his potential income. My efforts to explain that the Lord required no more than ten percent as tithing fell on attentive but unconvinced ears. He simply responded that he loved to pay all he could to the Lord. It amounted to about half his income. His dear wife felt exactly as he did. Their unique manner of tithing payment continued throughout their earning lives.
Gustav and Margarete Wacker established a home that was a heaven. They were not blessed with children but mothered and fathered their many Church visitors. A sophisticated and learned leader from Ottawa told me, “I like to visit President Wacker. I come away refreshed in spirit and determined to ever live close to the Lord.”
Did our Heavenly Father honor such abiding faith? The branch prospered. The membership outgrew the rented Slovakian Hall and moved into a modern and lovely chapel of their own. President and Sister Wacker had their prayers answered by serving a proselyting mission to their native Germany and later a temple mission to the beautiful temple in Washington, D.C. Then, just three months ago, his mission in mortality concluded, Gustav Wacker passed away peacefully while being held in the loving arms of his eternal companion. Only one label appears fitting for such an obedient and faithful servant: “Who honors God, God honors.” (See 1 Sam. 2:30.)

The first time he offered to take me fishing behind his place, I brought the stuff my friends and I used when we fished from the old country bridge.
“What kind of a rig you call that?” He looked at my large lead sinker and a treble hook with a wad of dried-up cheese stuck to it. “Here, let me see that. You’re not supposed to club the fish to death.” He took the sinker from the line. “And what’s this?” he said, pointing to the cheese. “You bring your lunch?”
“I usually use worms or cheese for bait.”
He shook his head. “I’ll teach you to fly fish. Then you’ll know something about fishing.”
He stepped a little ways into the river so he could get a free swing with his fly rod. “Look over there, just in front of the boulder.” He whipped the fly line back and forth a couple of times to let out line, and then cast. The fly landed gently on the water and glided into the swirling water downstream from the boulder. Suddenly the water boiled as a German Brown rose up and took the fly. He carefully fought it to his side and then reached down and swished it up in his net. “You think you can learn to do that?” he said as he reached down into the net and pulled out the trout and dropped him gently back into the water.
Nearly every weekday afternoon that summer I’d go over to his place with my rod, and we’d walk across his field to the river. He taught me how to cast a fly rod, and where to stand, and what kind of flies to use for each part of the summer. “You got to find out what they’re feeding on, Jamie. That’s the secret.”

In a Las Vegas, Nevada, stake, I listened to a convert tell her story. She related how she and her family had moved to Las Vegas from Oklahoma. They moved two doors from a Mormon family, and shortly thereafter their young daughter was invited to go to Primary by the neighbor’s daughter. She enjoyed relating her Primary lessons to her parents. About that time, the parents felt the need of religion in their home. The mother had been raised a Baptist so they attended the Baptist church, but they did not seem to enjoy it. The next Sunday, the parents were discussing which church they would attend. The young daughter suggested, “Why don’t you go to my church?”—meaning where she had been attending Primary. The parents accepted the suggestion, went to the Mormon church, found what they were looking for, and later were baptized. This to me is a beautiful example of “every member a missionary” in action.

Unfortunately, my life took another direction after I introduced Ans and Angela to the gospel. I moved to Dordrecht and distanced myself from the Church and was not baptized. But no matter what I thought of the Church or what I was doing with my life, both Ans and Angela stayed in touch with me. They avoided talking about the gospel, but they were there for me when I had questions. I had not lost faith altogether, and it continued to work on my conscience. Then Ans moved closer to where I lived, and our friendship blossomed. She visited me often and showed her love for me in small, subtle ways.

I am now married to a wonderful husband and have two sweet children. About a year ago I came across a book in the public library about the history of the Church, and I checked it out. I was very touched by the book’s description of the hardships the pioneers endured; they were willing to go through many things because of the gospel. Reading the book revived my testimony. I knew the Church had to be true!
Great was their surprise when I told my friends that I wanted to be baptized. Ans and I shed many tears of happiness after my baptism. Angela could not be there, but I felt her support and encouragement.
I am very grateful to Heavenly Father for these friends. Our lives have been woven together over the years, and the pattern is getting more clear all the time. I truly believe what Sister Okazaki said: “We can never afford to be cruel or indifferent or ungenerous, because we are all connected, even if it is in a pattern that only God sees” (Ensign, May 1993, page 85).
My investigation of the Church lasted 15 years. And though the missionaries who first taught me were disappointed to see my testimony wither, their work wasn’t in vain. If they had not sown the seed, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I will never be able to thank them enough for what they did. The seeds they sowed I shared with others—and they, in turn, continued to nourish the seed in my heart until it flowered in joy and our hearts were woven together in faith and love.

We also can learn from the experiences of others. If I may, please let me share a personal experience that was very helpful to me in making an important decision. It taught me that getting proper inspiration and direction from heaven requires more than just going through the motions.

During the time I was deeply involved in my postdoctoral fellowship at Duke University after completing my medical internship and residency, I was approached with several interesting opportunities for my future academic career. I admit that the entreaties were flattering and most looked attractive. The problem for us was that we were very happy at Duke and in living in Durham, North Carolina. We loved our ward, our friends and felt that the academic experience was first-rate. While we missed our extended families, all living in the West, we felt we would return there some day and were quite content that we were exactly where we ought to be.

Thus, we prayed about our options and opportunities, but did not feel any compulsion or even inclination to do so more than just casually mention our preferences in our prayers. Happily for us, a man who later became a good friend and mentor sized me up much better than I had myself.

One day he called me about an opportunity that we had discussed twice in recent weeks. Not wanting to close any doors for future opportunities, my answer to him on those two occasions was that I appreciated the offer, the position was attractive, but the timing was not right and therefore I needed to decline. On the third call, he simply said that he understood my position and that the offer was the same as before. He then said if I could assure him that I had gone about the decision-making process in exactly the right way, he would not bother me again.

I did not know Dr. John A. Dixon very well at that point, although I knew he was a faithful Latter-day Saint and a former bishop. His question about "exactly the right way" caught me off guard and led to new and serious consideration about what that really meant and what I really should do. Without further details, I will report that we went about the process in the right way and got the right answer--an answer the Lord would not provide when we prayed as if we already knew the answer.

This process led me to leave my position at Duke and return to my alma mater. While perhaps not nearly as earthshaking as was President Clark's leaving Harvard for BYU-Idaho, it was traumatic for us. My chairman at Duke thought I was committing career suicide and even gave me the chance, which I did not take, to repent of the decision a couple of years later. The fact that my decision was not understood by most didn't matter. Now almost forty years later, some of my associates from that time acknowledge that perhaps the decision was not too bad after all since I seem to have been very happy over the years. What is not clear to most is that this was a very pivotal time in our life and many of the opportunities and experiences we have enjoyed over the years would not have been ours if our good friend had not insisted that we make our decision in exactly the right way.

In the spring of 1978 I opened my own typesetting business in Denmark. Suddenly my earnings doubled what they had been when I worked for someone else. I made a budget and kept careful books and tax records. Then I got the idea of opening a tithing bank account. It was actually a savings account, but I called it my tithing account and thought it to be a tremendously good idea. After just a few months, I was shocked to see how much money my tithing account contained.
“Someday I’ll make a check out for the whole amount and give it to my bishop,” I thought. But the more the account grew, the harder it became to make out the check. Besides, it became fun to add up the figures.
After six months with lots of work and lots of money, orders suddenly stopped coming in. As day after day passed with no new orders, I began to worry as my savings grew low. “Well,” I consoled myself, “you can always borrow from your tithing account should this continue much longer.”
When I told my mother my idea, she immediately said, “You don’t touch the money you owe to the Lord!” My mother was a strong-willed woman, and even as an adult I felt rebellious if I didn’t obey her. She continued, “The sooner you get your tithing money to the bishop, the better. Make out a check today for the full amount and take it to him.”
I explained that my rent, car payment, taxes, and utility payments were all due and the only money I had was in my tithing account. “Never mind,” my mother said, “You had better pay the bishop today.”
Even though I didn’t like it, I knew she was right. So I went straight to the bank. Never have I been so tempted in all my life than I was that day to make the check out for cash to myself, but I prayed to the Lord to make me strong.
Still, I felt so heavy when I handed the check to the bishop. How could I save my business and my home without money coming in? My mother said, “Your oldest daughter is old enough to fast with us. Let us pray and fast together for twenty-four hours.” And so we did. After the fast, three days passed and nothing happened. “Let’s repeat the fast,” my mother said. Again we fasted, and the very next day the mailman knocked at my door with an order from a brand-new customer—a big order that would keep me busy every day for the next month. Tears came to our eyes, and my mother, two daughters, and I bent our knees to thank the Lord for his mercy.

It had been five months, and I still couldn’t forgive myself. Ever since slipping up and doing something I was ashamed of, I felt like I was on a downward spiral. My shame kept building anytime I did something else I thought was wrong. I couldn’t feel at peace.
I had prayed for forgiveness and had even felt that God had forgiven me. But I just couldn’t forgive myself. How could I when I had sinned? I kept beating myself up over and over again, preventing myself from moving on.
While I was feeling this way, I went to a summer youth conference where we focused a lot of our studies on the Savior’s Atonement. One day I came across a passage in the Book of Enos that said: “Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed.
“And I, Enos, knew that God could not lie; wherefore, my guilt was swept away” (Enos 1:5–6).
That was powerful for me. I realized that, like me, Enos had done something wrong and needed forgiveness. He even described his struggle to seek forgiveness as a wrestle before God (see Enos 1:2). But eventually, after praying through the day and night, Enos felt peace. And when he asked, “Lord, how is it done?” the Lord replied, “Because of thy faith in Christ” (Enos 1:7, 8).
That was it! Enos had faith in Jesus Christ. If Enos could let the Savior erase his guilt, why couldn’t I let Him bring that same peace into my life? From that point on, every time I felt that I couldn’t forgive myself, I thought of Jesus Christ’s love and forgiveness. I prayed for the ability to let go of my bad feelings and to stop feeling so ashamed. It took some time, but after many prayers, I stopped feeling so terrible all the time. I finally felt peace.
This experience taught me a lot about Christ’s grace. After I sinned, I felt godly sorrow, prayed, repented, and felt a confirmation that God had forgiven me. Yet I still kept punishing myself. I eventually realized that I didn’t need to keep making myself suffer for committing that sin, because Jesus Christ already paid for it through His Atonement. It must have been hard and painful for Him, but He was still willing to suffer so that I don’t have to.
I’ve since learned to rely on Jesus Christ and let His peace fill my life by strengthening my relationship with Him and my Heavenly Father. I try to pray and read the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, every day. I try to participate in uplifting activities and good media.
I still make mistakes, but I know if I repent and keep doing my best, Jesus Christ will bless me with His grace. When I rely on Him and on Heavenly Father, guilt and shame does end. I now know the peace that comes from having faith in Jesus Christ, and I am stronger because of it.

Having recrossed the river to Nauvoo that last Sunday, June 23, Joseph sent a letter to the governor in Carthage promising to be there the next day. To meet the governor’s deadline they would have to leave very early—a 6:00 a.m. departure at the latest, and they had had no sleep for two nights.

There are little moments in those last hours that are significant and poignantly memorable. I mention only a few.

After the two brothers returned to surrender state arms as ordered by the governor, Leonora Taylor was in the Smith home when the Prophet went again to say goodbye. He pleaded with Emma on that occasion to go with him, even though she did not want to risk getting the ague, chills, and fevers. She was also expecting a child (four months pregnant) and not feeling well. He begged her to come anyway. She said no. And as he turned away, he said, “Well, if they don’t hang me I don’t care how they kill me.”

It seems likely that Willard Richards overheard that statement and that that is why, in the last moments, he offered—and he meant it—to be hanged in the Prophet’s stead. The Prophet’s statement also tells us that he hadn’t yet been made to know exactly how he would die. There had been threats, one of them published in the newspaper, that his enemies would, as the letter said, “make catfish meat of him.”

There was a moment with Daniel H. Wells, not yet a member of the Church, who was on a sickbed. The Prophet, not feeling well himself, stopped to see him. “Squire Wells, I wish you to cherish my memory, and not think me the worst man in the world either.” Daniel H. Wells had to give up his family in order to join the Church later. He could never speak of that last encounter with Joseph without deep feeling, and he became one of our great ones.

Mary Ellen Kimball overheard the Prophet say, as the group stopped to ask for a drink of water on the way to Carthage that morning, “Brother Rosenkranz, if I never see you again, or if I never come back, remember that I love you.” She felt that to her soul, and fled and wept on her bed.

And then there was the pause the group made at the temple, where the Prophet lovingly surveyed that building, the city, the landscape, and then said: “This is the loveliest place and the best people under the heavens; little do they know the trials that await them.”

Larry whistled to the dogs as he opened the gate and gently pushed the chocolate-colored goat he had named Cocoa into the pen with the milling hounds. The sad-eyed dogs began inspecting the newcomer, from her long ears to her switching tail. Cocoa nuzzled and licked the hounds in return. Then she trotted around the pen, nibbling and smelling everything. Finally she jumped on top of the doghouse and settled down with a bored look on her long face.
Larry bought Cocoa as a companion for his hunting dogs, hoping they would chase coons as they had been trained to do instead of deer when they became used to this deer-like creature. The animal soon forgot she was a goat and followed the dogs everywhere. But Larry’s best dog Tina was soon to have pups, and he worried about how Cocoa would treat them. He put Tina in the barn as a precaution when the time neared for her pups to be born.
One morning in late winter, the dogs were fretting in the barnyard. Larry saw Ringo and Ace walking to and fro in their pen, whining. He pulled on his coat, jammed on his hat, and hurried across the yard to the barn, his breath making small clouds in the cold air.
The bed he had made for Tina was empty! Then Larry turned and saw a nervous and tense Cocoa. She lowered her brown head and threatened him as he tried to go farther into the barn. He was puzzled by the unusual behavior of the gentle goat until he heard the cries of Tina’s newborn pups. Then he understood that this was Cocoa’s way of protecting her friend.
Later that morning, Larry again went to the barn. This time Cocoa allowed him to get on top of a pile of hay where he could look down and see Tina with her new family.
In a few weeks the puppies were toddling about the farmyard. The littlest one, named Topper, became Cocoa’s favorite.
By midsummer all of the puppies but Topper were sold. No one wanted the runt of the litter except Cocoa, who took the gangling puppy everywhere she went.
Cocoa and little Topper were together as usual one summer evening when Larry came upon them. “Well, old girl,” he greeted her, “how is your little charge tonight?”
Cocoa replied with a gentle baaaa and nudged Topper to a faster pace.
Then late one fall afternoon, Topper and Cocoa were alone in the barnyard when a cougar came slinking into the yard. It moved so stealthily that its belly almost hugged the ground, but periodically it crouched motionless to stare at the unwary Cocoa. The creature’s small ears were held close to its large tan head and its long tail made graceful sweeping motions.
Cocoa slowly chewed her cud until she caught the scent of the animal. Fear widened her eyes as she turned and saw the mountain lion staring at her.
Cocoa’s heart pounded and her legs trembled with fear. She gave one pitiful bleat as the large cat moved forward slowly, seeing nothing but the fat, tender goat. The cougar crouched to leap after the shivering Cocoa, growling and swallowing with anticipation. Suddenly out of the barn hurtled a brown and white blur. Little Topper was enraged that the creature had frightened Cocoa and he lunged straight for the cat.
Distracted in its pursuit of Cocoa, the fearsome animal snarled furiously and shook the feisty little dog from its neck.
Cocoa was jarred out of her panic by Topper’s painful yelp and hurled herself at the surprised cat. She struck the tawny body with a great thud.
Stunned by the impact, the big cat wheeled, and Topper leaped on its back, seizing a mouthful of hair and hide. The cougar, hampered by the dog and unaware that Cocoa was preparing her second attack, received a vicious blow in its side. Growling, the intruder finally shook the snarling dog from its back again and made a wild dash for the meadow.
Little Topper and Cocoa gave chase, bellowing their anger with every leap. When they were assured that the cougar was gone, they returned to the farmyard and met Larry running toward them. He quickly examined the cut and bleeding Topper. “Don’t worry, old girl,” he told Cocoa. “I don’t think your little friend is badly hurt, mostly just some deep scratches.” He dropped a gentle hand to smooth the long ears of the worried goat.
After Larry had cared for both animals, he started for the house. He had not gone far when he heard Cocoa bleat softly to little Topper, and he smiled contentedly when an answering woof came from her defender.

By late December 1845, the Nauvoo Temple was completed sufficiently so that the blessings of the endowment could be bestowed. During this time Church members were being forced out of the area by mobs once again in winter. But right up to the last moment, the temple was in full use. President Brigham Young recorded the following in his journal on February 3, 1846:

Notwithstanding that I had announced that we would not attend to the administration of the ordinances, the House of the Lord was thronged all day, the anxiety being so great to receive, ...the endowments until our way was hedged up, and our enemies intercept us. But I informed the brethren that this was not wise,...that I was going to get my wagons started, and be off. I walked some distance from the Temple, supposing the crowd would disperse, but on returning I found the House filled to overflowing. Looking upon the multitude and knowing their anxiety, as they were thirsting and hungering for the word.... we continued at work diligently in the House of the Lord.

Then they were forced to leave. An entry from one of the member=s diary adds to the sorrow of the scene. It reads:
The top of this hill was the last point from which I could see the Nauvoo temple. I have no words with which to convey a proper conception of my feelings when taking a last look at this sacred monument of the living faith of the Saints, and which was associated in their minds with the heavenly and holy. After the lapse of thirty-six years I can scarcely restrain my feelings when I write of it.

Elder Wilford Woodruff wrote:
The work in Nauvoo was done. Henceforth the city of the Saints was to be nothing more to them than a memory until God should determine otherwise. It brought its joys; but its history was also full of sad reminiscences, apostasy, murderous intent, and destruction.
I was in Nauvoo on the 26th day of May, 1846, for the last time, and left the city of the Saints feeling that most likely I was taking a final farewell of Nauvoo for this life. I looked back upon the Temple and City as they receded from view and asked the Lord to remember the sacrifices of his Saints.[10]

After all those years of toil, sacrifice, and anticipation, the temple was in use no more than eight weeks before the embattled and harassed members formed that trail of tears down Parley Street to the Mississippi River. Many even left the doors of their homes unlocked, forsaking all their material possessions except for what could be carried in a wagon box, and many, with their families, crossed the frozen Mississippi on ice into Iowa and the unknown.

I have been asked many times why I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I have always told the story of meeting the missionaries at the house of a dear friend who had just been baptized. But with the passage of time, I have realized that before that first meeting many things prepared me to accept the gospel.
I was an active and energetic young woman, and my life was divided between spending time with friends and working out at the gym. Nothing else interested me. I had a passion for martial arts. I lived for the sport; it had become a way of life for me. In effect, it was my religion. I was very good and had acquired much skill. My pride increased as I became more and more recognized by others, especially since I was a woman in a sport dominated by men.
As time passed, I began to feel an unsettling sensation after each day’s workout. Often I felt out of breath, and my heart would race.
I soon learned that the continuous pressure of such a strenuous sport had aggravated a genetic predisposition toward irregular heartbeats. The pain intensified, and sometimes I could not even stand. Almost overnight I lost my self-sufficiency. A series of unfortunate medical decisions worsened my condition, and twice I came close to cardiac arrest.
Over a period of five years, I had two operations and made many visits to doctors and hospitals. Eventually I needed constant care from my parents.
While in the hospital I saw much suffering and pain, and I learned the necessity of loving others. I began to understand what was really important in life.
My soul had been changed, and I felt that someone was giving me a second chance at life. I started to wonder about God, who until then, I believed, had played no part in my life. I began to study various religions, and I was impressed by their common denominator of love. Then a friend told me about the missionaries who had brought her such happiness. I met with them and was baptized one month later.
Now I am thankful that I suffered, because suffering opened the way for me to hear the gospel. God truly has unusual ways of preparing His children.
Since accepting the gospel, I have had the privilege of sharing the truth with others. I have also been to the temple and have been greatly blessed. I am thankful to God to be able to work for Him. His gospel is truly a wonderful gift for me.

When I was in the fourth grade, I had a variety show to sing in. Some of the girls were singing a bad song. I didn’t like it. When I got home, I told my mom about it. She talked to my dad, and my dad told my principal. The girls had to sing a better song. The program turned out good because I wasn’t afraid to speak out about a bad song. I know that Jesus Christ was happy.
Hydee Rushton, age 10Sun River Valley Ward

One of the most memorable activities that I participated in as a youth was a large dance festival. I am quite certain I never would have volunteered for such an activity. However, with some coaxing, I accepted the invitation to participate, even though at first I wasn’t thrilled about the idea.
We practiced a lot, and learning the dances was a slow process. I am grateful for dedicated instructors, for a patient dance partner, and for my mother, who sewed my costume and encouraged me to do my best.
The festival was held at a football stadium. I had never participated in something so large. Each group entertained the crowd as we performed choreographed dances in colorful costumes. Then the football field literally filled with dancers as all of us performed a closing number together. It turned out to be an impressive show.
I enjoyed that dance festival a lot more than I thought I would. It allowed me to view the Church in a different way. I saw vast numbers of youth having a great time. I met new friends, I developed new skills, and I played a small part in a big production that entertained thousands.
Because I accepted the invitation to dance in that festival—and other invitations that have come to me in the Church—my life has been blessed, and I have had the chance to bless others. I feel so privileged to have had so many wonderful experiences as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“Missionaries from the Western United States knocked on my door in England many years ago. After introducing themselves as representatives of the Lord Jesus Christ, they told us that the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that it had been translated from ancient records by the power of God. They shared with us how this wonderful book came to light. As I looked at it, a warm feeling came over me and I knew that the writings were true. I still had to read more and then pray before I knew that the young boy, Joseph Smith, whom the Lord used to translate the Book of Mormon, was indeed a prophet. My family and I were baptized. A desire to know the truth, coupled with study and prayer, gave me a testimony. Everyone can receive the same blessing through study and prayer. President Benson has challenged every member of the Church to read the Book of Mormon every day because it will bring us nearer to our Heavenly Father and Jesus than any other book.”

This story happened in Italy.
“Giulia! Marco! Come down for home evening!” Ma called up the stairs.
“Coming!” Giulia called back.
She came downstairs. After the prayer, Giulia saw that her parents had brought out backpacks, food, water, and other supplies.
“What’s this for?” Giulia asked.
“We’re doing something important for home evening,” Pa said. “There have been some small earthquakes recently. We want to be prepared in case a bigger one comes. We’re going to make emergency bags.”
Giulia looked at her brother, Marco. She was worried. She had felt the small shakes before. But the thought of a big earthquake scared her.
Ma held Giulia’s hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll do our best to prepare, and the Lord will help us. Before we make the bags, let’s read some scriptures.”
Her parents read them a story from 3 Nephi. There was a big storm with fires and earthquakes before Jesus Christ visited the Americas. The people felt scared and sad. But Jesus said He would heal and comfort those who came to Him.
“Jesus Christ blessed each of the little children,” Pa said. “He knows and loves both of you just like He loved them.”
The scriptures made Giulia feel calm and peaceful. She had faith that Heavenly Father would comfort her and her family.
As they made the bags, Ma told them what they should do if an earthquake came. “Get down in an open area or under a strong table. Then cover your head and neck with your hands. Stay where you are until the shaking stops.”
Giulia practiced what Ma said. She was glad they were prepared. If an earthquake did come, they would have what they needed.
A few weeks later, Giulia felt her room shake in the middle of the night. She sat up in her bed. The room was still shaking. It was an earthquake!
At first, she felt afraid. But then she looked at her Book of Mormon on her bedside table. She thought about how Jesus Christ promised to comfort the people in the Americas. A calm feeling came over her.
Giulia remembered what Ma told her to do. She huddled under her desk, covering her head and neck with her hands. After the shaking stopped, she ran to her parents’ room.
“Are you OK?” Ma asked. Her parents hugged Giulia and Marco tightly. Marco gave her a hug too.
“Yes, I’m OK! I knew what to do,” Giulia said. But then she saw the tears on her brother’s face. He was scared, just like she had been.
I know what will help him, she thought. Giulia got her Book of Mormon and opened to a picture of the Savior.
“Look, Marco. Jesus can comfort us, even when we’re scared.” Giulia gave her brother a hug. “Everything is going to be OK.”
How did the Book of Mormon help Giulia?
Illustrations by Marina Pessarrodona

At age 16 Soon Joo Park was baptized in Seoul, Korea. When she was 21, she knew, after much prayer, that her Father in Heaven wanted her to serve a full-time mission. She discussed it with her bishop, was interviewed by him, and began making preparations. But her nonmember parents were unhappy with her decision. Her father was particularly distressed. When she received a call to serve in the Salt Lake Temple Square Mission, she put her faith in the Lord and boarded a plane for the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.
While on the plane, Sister Park wrote a letter to her father. She told him where she would be for the next 18 months and tried to explain how important it was for her to serve a mission. A short time later, she received a letter from her father saying that he loved her and understood her desire to serve.
Temple Square brought Soon Joo Park and her father together. Tourists from all over the world also come together on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah, to learn about the Savior and his Church. More than 5 million people visit Temple Square each year, and some 200 missionaries greet and guide them through their visits.
What makes this mission unique is that no full-time elders serve in it. Several missionary couples serve on Temple Square in a Church-service capacity, so there are some senior elders on the Square. But they do not serve full time. All the full-time missionaries are sisters.
Within the relatively small area of their mission’s few city blocks—which include the Salt Lake Temple, the Tabernacle, the Assembly Hall, two visitors’ centers, several pioneer monuments, and the Joseph Smith Memorial Building—these sisters are helping to fulfill the prophecy that “every man shall hear the fulness of the gospel in his own tongue, and in his own language” (D&C 90:11).
Because visitors from so many nations come to Temple Square, the missionaries serving there speak on a daily basis the greatest number of languages of any mission in the world—making it perhaps the most international mission in the Church. Of the more than 3,000 motor coach bus tours that visited last year, more than half brought non-English speaking visitors. At any given time, as many as 30 different languages may be spoken on the Square.
Sister Najet Rahou of Nice, France, was excited when she received her call to Temple Square because she knew it would allow her to use the five languages she speaks—French, Spanish, English, Hindi, and Afrikaans. During the summer months, when the number of visitors is the highest, she speaks several of these languages daily.
Sister Mireille Van Tonder of Bordeaux, France, also speaks five languages—Afrikaans, French, Dutch, English, and German. She recently spoke with a young woman visiting from South Africa. Sister Van Tonder, who was born in South Africa, was able to tell the visitor about the Church in her native language. The young woman was surprised and excited to learn that the Church was in her own country and that she could be taught by missionaries when she returned home.
Many visitors the missionaries speak with are like this young woman from South Africa—they return home and are taught by others. This kind of proselyting is another reason the Salt Lake Temple Square Mission is so unusual. Temple Square missionaries teach visitors of the divinity of Jesus Christ and about the history of the Church primarily through tours and presentations; they do not give the standard missionary discussions or see converts baptized. They send the names of those interested in knowing more about the Church to the missions where the people live.
“Other missions find, teach, baptize, and fellowship. We only find, but we are very successful finders,” says Robert Charles Witt, former president of the Temple Square Mission.
Sister Cheri Reid of American Samoa explains the sisters’ role: “We are instruments in the Lord’s hands, and we share our testimonies a lot. We help people recognize the role the Lord plays in their lives to strengthen and uplift them.”
Sister Erika Lecaros of Lima, Peru, says of serving on Temple Square: “It’s one of the hardest missions because you give so much of yourself—yet you don’t get to see the results. You give the people all you can and share the Spirit and bear your testimony, but you rarely find out what happens to them.”
Because their responsibilities at Temple Square are so unique, each Temple Square missionary spends four months of her 18-month mission serving in another mission in the United States. This gives her an opportunity to give the standard missionary discussions and work with members of the Church.
For example, Sister Tiziana Vacirca, from the Novara Branch, Italy Milan Mission, spent four months serving in the New York New York South Mission. Although New York is very different from Utah, Sister Vacirca says she saw so many people there from all over the world that it reminded her of Temple Square.
There is a lot of behind-the-scenes work at Temple Square to keep the mission organized and running smoothly. Fortunately, the mission office is on the Square, so the missionaries are able to work with and see their mission president on a daily basis.
The sisters’ daily schedules are planned out carefully to accommodate different preparation days, shifts, languages, training, and tours. There are more than 150 specific duties for which missionaries are trained and to which they are assigned at various times. Some of these duties include greeting visitors as they enter and exit Temple Square, conducting the various tours offered to visitors, answering questions at information desks, helping visitors using the FamilySearch® Center to look for family history information, and assisting those wishing to see Legacy, a Church-produced film portraying pioneer courage.
Temple Square missionaries also donate several hours each week in additional service. They volunteer at Welfare Square in Salt Lake City, where they sort used clothing for worldwide distribution to the needy, assist patrons in the bishops’ storehouse, teach English as a second language to any wishing to learn, and work in the cannery or dairy.
This experience proved useful for Sister Ilona Machinic of Vilnius, Lithuania, who met a Russian man on Temple Square. Able to speak to him in his native language, she discovered that he needed assistance and was able to call upon the resources of Welfare Square to help him. He gratefully went on his way, promising to repay the kindness of the Church somehow.
Like all missionaries, Temple Square missionaries have one day every week as a preparation day. Their mission is also like all others in that they have district meetings, zone conferences, and transfers. Transfers may include a change in apartments, zones, companions, preparation days, or shifts.
Since all the full-time missionaries in the mission are sisters, all the leaders and trainers are sisters. Another unique aspect of the mission is that the sisters don’t spend all their time working in tandem with their companions. While they do serve together on the Square as companions, they are often given individual assignments.
There is an ongoing spiritual excitement on Temple Square due to a variety of uplifting activities, such as general conference, Tabernacle Choir rehearsals and performances, and concerts in the Assembly Hall. The sisters are also able to attend sessions at the Salt Lake Temple twice a month on their preparation days.
Sister Tupou Naeata of Tonga explains that even with that excitement, there are challenges: “The Temple Square Mission is not as difficult physically as it is spiritually. There is such a great responsibility to be an example and to smile all the time and to always have the Spirit. It is amazing how God works through us.”
For example, Sister Lai Chong Wong of Hong Kong was conducting a tour for seven Cantonese visitors. Two of the visitors were asking a lot of tough questions and making negative comments to others on the tour; this type of experience is not uncommon, because people often come to Temple Square with preconceived ideas about the Church. However, the Spirit was so strong that Sister Wong was able to answer all of their questions and help the other visitors feel the Spirit.
What seems common to all the missionaries on Temple Square is their love for the Lord and their love for one another. The great unifying force on Temple Square is the Lord’s Spirit. It does not matter that the missionaries come from many different cultures. It does not matter that they speak different languages. During the time they serve together on Temple Square, they truly are of one heart.
“Even though my time on Temple Square will end, I will always wear my name tag in my heart, and my mission will continue through my life,” says Sister Lecaros, voicing the thoughts of missionaries serving throughout the world.

Many of these early pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake Valley after the arduous trek only to find that they were not done pioneering yet. Responding to the call of the prophet of God, many once again packed up their wagons and moved to other frontier areas of the Great Basin to establish additional Mormon settlements. Joseph Stanford Smith was called to settle in the Colorado River basin. He had been one of the most active leaders in helping blaze a trail through a treacherous canyon in southern Utah that became known as “Hole-in-the-Rock.” On January 26, 1880, Stanford spent the day helping all of the wagons in the company get down through the notch in the rocky canyon. Using ropes and pulleys as well as logs tied to the backs of wagons as a braking system, each wagon was carefully lowered through the rocky crevice and driven to the banks of the river and then ferried across. When word came that all of the wagons were safely down and across the river, Stanford looked for his wagon—but it was nowhere to be found. It was still up at the top of the canyon. It had been moved back while the others were being taken down, and now it had been overlooked. His wife, Arabella, and his children were waiting for him at the top of the canyon.

For a moment Stanford’s face flushed with rage. He threw his hat on the ground and stomped it—as was his habit when he was angry.

“With me down there helping get their wagons on the raft, I thought some one would bring my wagon down. Drat ’em!”

“I’ve got the horses harnessed and things all packed,” Belle breathlessly assured him as they ran toward the wagon.

Stanford unlocked the brakes; checked the team; tied old Nig, the mule, to the back axle as a brake; and cross-locked the wheels with chains.

They walked to the top of the crevice, where hand in hand they looked down—10 feet of loose sand, then a rocky pitch as steep as the roof of a house and barely as wide as the wagon—below that a dizzy chute down to the landing place. . . . It was that first drop of 150 feet that frightened him.

“I am afraid we can’t make it,” he exclaimed.

“But we’ve got to make it,” she answered calmly. . . .

“If we only had a few men to hold the wagon back we might make it, Belle.”

“I’ll do the holding back,” said Belle, “on old Nig’s lines.”

She then busied herself getting the children to a safe place back from the crevice. Three-year-old Roy held the baby, and sister Ada sat in front of them and said a little prayer as Belle kissed each of them and tucked quilts snugly around them. “Don’t move, dears. Don’t even stand up. As soon as we get the wagon down, Papa will come back for you!”

Stanford braced his legs against the dashboard and they started down through the Hole-in-the-Rock. The first lurch nearly pulled Belle off her feet. She dug her heels in to hold her balance. Old Nig was thrown to his haunches. Arabella raced after him and the wagon holding to the lines with desperate strength. Nig rolled to his side and gave a shrill neigh of terror. . . .

[Belle] lost her balance and went sprawling after old Nig. She was blinded by the sand which streamed after her. She gritted her teeth and hung on to the lines. A jagged rock tore her flesh and hot pain ran up her leg from heel to hip. The wagon struck a huge boulder. The impact jerked her to her feet and flung her against the side of the cliff.

The wagon stopped at the end of the chute. Stanford jumped off the wagon and first noticed the bloodied, bruised, and almost lifeless mule that had been dragged most of the way down. There, holding onto the reins, blood streaming from her leg, and covered from head to foot with dirt, was Arabella. She had been dragged down along with the mule—but she wouldn’t let go. She had hung on for all she was worth. Miraculously they made it down and were safe.

“Darling, will you be all right?”

“Of course I will. Just leave me here and go as fast as you can for the children.”

“I’ll hurry,” he flung over his shoulder and began the steep climb up the incline they had just come down.

. . . He slowed down, and looked around. He had driven a wagon down that fearful crevice, and dragged his wife behind. . . . God bless her gallant heart! He kicked the rocks at his feet and with tears streaming down his face lifted his hat in salute to Arabella, his wife.