Gospel Story Finder

A number of years ago I went with a brother to tow in a wrecked car. It had been a single car accident, and the car was demolished; the driver, though unhurt, had been taken to the hospital for treatment of shock and for examination.
The next morning he came asking for his car, anxious to be on his way. When he was shown the wreckage, his pent-up emotions and disappointment, sharpened perhaps by his misfortune, exploded in a long stream of profanity. So obscene and biting were his words that they exposed years of practice with profanity. His words were heard by other customers, among them women, and must have touched their ears like acid.
One of my brothers crawled from beneath the car where he had been working with a large wrench. He too was upset, and with threatening gestures of the wrench (mechanics will know that a 16-inch crescent wrench is a formidable weapon), he ordered him off the premises. “We don’t have to listen to that kind of language here,” he said. And the customer left, cursing more obscenely than before.
Much later in the day he reappeared. Subdued, penitent, and avoiding everyone else, he found my brother.
“I have been in the hotel room all day,” he said, “lying on the bed, tormented. I can’t tell you how utterly ashamed I am for what happened this morning. My conduct was inexcusable. I have been trying to think of some justification, and I can think of only one thing: In all my life, never, not once, have I been told that my language was not acceptable. I have always talked that way. You were the first one who ever told me that my language was out of order.”
Isn’t it interesting that a man could grow to maturity, the victim of such a vile habit, and never meet a protest? How tolerant we have become!

Consider that you are invited to a friend’s house for breakfast. On the table you see a large pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from which your host fills his glass. But he offers you none. Finally, you ask, “Could I have a glass of orange juice?”

He replies, “Oh, I am sorry. I was afraid you might not like orange juice, and I didn’t want to offend you by offering you something you didn’t desire.”

Now, that sounds absurd, but it is not too different from the way we hesitate to offer up something far sweeter than orange juice. I have often worried how I would answer some friend about my hesitancy when I meet him beyond the veil.
A story related by Elder Christoffel Golden, of South Africa, refreshed my concerns. He was recently in Lusaka, Zambia, attending a meeting of new converts. A well-spoken, well-dressed stranger with a Book of Mormon in hand walked in. He stated he had driven past the chapel many times and had wondered what church met there and what they taught for doctrine.
At the conclusion of the meeting, this gentleman stood up, raised his copy of the Book of Mormon high in the air, and asked, “Why have you kept this book hidden from the people of Lusaka? Why have you kept it a secret?”
As I heard this story, I flinched that one day some friend might ask me, “Why have you kept this Book of Mormon, with its message of truth and salvation, a secret?”
My reply, “I was afraid I would damage our friendship,” will not be very satisfying to either me or my friend.
Brothers and sisters, I pray that we may put our fears and our hesitancy behind us and no more keep secret the great treasure that is ours.

Now it was my turn to say if I was a full-tithe payer. I was about to say yes, but then I remembered that I had done some yard work last summer and hadn’t tithed the money I got for it. I had to tell the bishop no, I wasn’t a full-tithe payer.
The bishop asked me if I wanted to be a full-tithe payer. I said yes, I guess so. Then he asked if I had the money now. I pulled out my wallet and gave him what I had. It still wasn’t enough. Then I felt some pressed into my hand. It was my dad giving me the money needed to pay a full tithing. I looked at my dad and he said I could pay him back later. I gave the bishop the rest of my tithing, and he wrote down that I was a full-tithe payer. It was a pretty good feeling.

I remember vividly the day I was baptized—December 15, 2007. As I stood in the cold water with Elder Kelsey and he raised his hand to the square, the Spirit just filled me up; it seemed to take over my whole frame. I could say that I was also grinning from ear to ear, but that description doesn’t even come close to describing what I felt.
After my baptism I continued to feel the Spirit. I felt sanctified. I knew that my sins had been remitted. I felt the approval of Heavenly Father that this was, indeed, the path I was supposed to take.

There is a word in Japanese, mui, that, for me, captures this more faith-filled, contemplative sense of what it means to be still. It is comprised of two characters (??). The one on the left means “nothing” or “nothingness,” and the one on the right means “to do.” Together they mean “non-doing.” Taken literally, the word could be misinterpreted to mean “to do nothing” in the same way “to be still” can be misinterpreted as “not talking or moving.” However, like the phrase “to be still,” it has a higher meaning; for me it is a reminder to slow down and to live with greater spiritual awareness.
While serving in the Asia North Area Presidency with Elder Takashi Wada, I learned that his wife, Sister Naomi Wada, is an accomplished Japanese calligrapher. I asked Sister Wada if she would draw for me the Japanese characters for the word mui. I wanted to hang the calligraphy on my wall as a reminder to be still and to focus on the Savior. I was surprised when she did not readily agree to this seemingly simple request.
The next day, knowing that I had likely misunderstood her hesitance, Elder Wada explained that writing those characters would require a significant effort. She would need to ponder and meditate on the concept and the characters until she understood the meaning deeply in her soul and could give expression to these heartfelt impressions with each stroke of her brush. I was embarrassed that I had so casually asked her to do something so demanding. I asked him to convey my apologies to her for my ignorance and to let her know that I was withdrawing my request.
You can imagine my surprise and gratitude when upon my leaving Japan, Sister Wada, unsolicited, gifted to me this beautiful piece of calligraphy featuring the Japanese characters for the word mui. It now hangs prominently on the wall of my office, reminding me to be still and to seek the Lord every day with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. She had captured, in this selfless act, the meaning of mui, or stillness, better than any words could. Rather than mindlessly and dutifully drawing the characters, she approached her calligraphy with full purpose of heart and real intent.

I first met Carly when she was 12 years old. A new and inexperienced Beehive, there were some temporary bumps in her world. Listen to her voice as she describes some of her feelings [a short videotaped segment was shown]:
“Change has always been real hard for me. My problems aren’t that bad, but when I look at them it just seems like they are the worst in the world when I have them. Everyone was kind of worrying about themselves, you know. I was kind of alone all the time. And I didn’t ever want to go to school. I just felt like Heavenly Father didn’t care if I was sad. And he didn’t care if I was upset or didn’t have any friends. And I just felt like he wasn’t there. I just felt like no one really cared.”
This is Carly. She is now 16.
“When I hear my 12-year-old self talk, I remember how big those problems seemed then and how small they are now. I remember how much I wanted a magic solution. I now believe that there isn’t just one thing that can make everything all right. The thing I did know when I was 12 was that I wanted to be good. That desire kept me reading my scriptures, going to church, and saying my prayers. Now, four years later, I feel so different, mostly because I kept doing those things. I now get answers from the scriptures, I am closer to the Lord through prayer, and I understand the lessons in church so much better.
“My dad has a saying on the wall: ‘Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go’ [William Feather]. I am so glad I hung on! I even think we need those times where we have nothing left in us. They help us build a trust and dependency on the Lord.
“Some popular songs and movies teach us to believe that nothing really matters, that we should give up because everything is temporary anyway. We know differently. We have the gospel. It isn’t temporary. It is eternal. We can’t quit. We can’t give up.
We may not see it now, but everything we do, every day we live is for a purpose. And we have a Heavenly Father who will always be there to lift us up and cheer us on.”

About 15 years ago, my family had the blessing of feeding the full-time missionaries in our home. At the conclusion of the meal, the missionaries shared a short message with my family. After the message, I thought I knew what was coming next. The missionaries would ask us if we knew anyone who they could share the gospel with. I always found this a bit difficult. I want to share the gospel and, as a former missionary myself, I knew that member referrals were the most productive way to introduce others to the gospel of Jesus Christ. But it seemed that all my friends, family, work colleagues, and neighbors were already members of the Church. But this time, instead of asking for referrals, the missionaries challenged us to pray for missionary opportunities. I remember thinking to myself, “I can definitely do that.”

Praying for missionary opportunities became part of our family and personal prayers, that continues to this day. A few weeks later I was working upstairs in the Lorenzo Snow Administration Building. It was the late afternoon and most people had gone home for the day. There was a student worker from an Eastern European country, who was a new student and had just started working for our department. He turned to me and asked me a question. He asked, “Who is Brigham Young, and why is the university named after him?”

I responded that Brigham Young was a prophet who led the Church after the martyrdom of Joseph Smith. His next question was, “Who is Joseph Smith?” I quickly realized that this student did not know anything concerning the Church or the restoration of the gospel. I received a prompting to share with him the account of Joseph Smith’s first vision and to share my testimony of it, which I did. I taught him about the restoration of the gospel and how we have a living prophet on the earth today who leads and guides us. I felt the spirit as I taught and testified. I could tell that this student felt the spirit as well. We had other conversations about God and the gospel of Jesus Christ. I was thankful to have this missionary opportunity. To receive a prompting and to have the courage to act upon the prompting. This student didn’t stay long at BYU–Hawaii and I do not know where he is today, but I do know that he knows who Joseph Smith is and has an understanding of the restoration of the gospel.

A Good Monday Night Model
It was Monday night, and seven-year-old María Fernanda Fernández of the Loma Nueve Ward, San Miguelito Panamá Stake, was in charge of her family’s home evening. María Fernanda (Marifer to her friends and family) had chosen the topic of prayer.
After leading the singing and asking her two-year-old brother, Roberto, to say the prayer with a little help from their mother, Marifer told a story her mother had helped her memorize from the Family Home Evening Resource Book, using pictures from the Gospel Art Picture Kit. Then she related a personal experience: “At the beginning of the school year, a classmate always fought with me. One day, I went to the bathroom crying after a fight and prayed that she wouldn’t fight with me anymore.”
Marifer said after that prayer, their relationship changed. “We invited her to my house and gave her mom a couple of issues of the Liahona. My friend liked them so much that she asked for more.” Marifer said she and her friend have talked a lot about the Church.
She ended with her testimony: “I know that Jesus Christ lives, that the Book of Mormon and the Bible are true, and that Jesus lived and died for us.”
Her mother, Marisol, and her father, Luis, bishop of the Loma Nueve Ward, shared their testimonies about prayer as well. Then Bishop Fernández offered the closing prayer, and it was time for treats.

Some time ago, my family and I lived in Veracruz, Mexico, where my children attended elementary school. Each morning as I helped my three children get ready for school, we listened to the radio—the most popular station in the city—with a very pleasant program conducted by a young male radio announcer.
We began hearing a very catchy song. As I started paying closer attention to the lyrics, I realized that the things it said, though not vulgar, were suggestive and crude.
I said determinedly to my children, “We cannot listen to this type of language.” Perhaps they didn’t even pay attention to the lyrics of the song, but they did pay enough attention to be humming its tune.
They saw me turn off the volume on the stereo system and asked me what I was doing. “I am going to tell the radio announcer to take that song off the program.” Their astonishment encouraged me to take further action.
They couldn’t believe it and neither could I, but I picked up the telephone and called the radio station. I didn’t expect to get an answer, but to my surprise, the same radio announcer we had just heard on the show answered my call almost immediately.
I told him that I didn’t agree with listening to that song, since many families tuned in to the radio at that time in the morning. He asked me what I would suggest he replace it with, but his demeanor was so well-mannered that I asked only that he not play that song during the time when the children were at home.
I never found out if my call was on the air, but I was just grateful that the radio announcer had listened. And for the next few days, I could tell that my request had been granted.
That experience affirmed to me that we should be courageous when it is in our hands to make decisions and do what is necessary to protect our children from negative influences. As we do so, the Holy Ghost can continue being our constant companion.

How Magrina Sam Aiten came to be endowed in the Manila Philippines Temple illustrates the distances, both physical and cultural, Micronesians often cross when coming to the Lord. While living in Chuuk (or Truk), she was visited by the missionaries. When she asked them a question about Joseph Smith, “their answer touched my heart, and I asked them to give me the discussions.”

Reading the Book of Mormon gave her a testimony of the gospel, but her testimony alienated her from her husband. He resented the missionaries’ visits. When the elders taught Magrina about fasting, she decided that her first fast would be for her husband. “I felt the Spirit, and my husband’s heart was softened.” He allowed the missionaries to continue meeting with Magrina and the children. “After one month, he joined us,” Magrina says. “In January 1986, I, my husband, and our oldest child were baptized.”

Her mother also felt unhappy about her association with the Church. “My Mom didn’t want me to join and said that if I did I wouldn’t be her daughter anymore.” In a society that values family relationships more than personal preferences, that was a difficult thing to hear. “But I told my kids to pray for Mom.” After three months, her mother came to Magrina’s home and stayed the weekend.

On Monday, the family had family home evening. “Mom was really quiet,” Magrina says. “My daughter gave the closing prayer, and after we finished, all the kids hugged her and kissed her. She had tears in her eyes, and she said, ‘Maybe this is a good way to raise your kids. They are sure different from you when you were little.’ I said that’s right; I didn’t know how to pray. But my children know how to conduct themselves.”

Not long after that, Magrina moved to Saipan, some 1,300 kilometers away. Saipan is something of a melting pot. A large island (23-by-8 kilometers) in the northern Marianas, it serves as home—and home away from home—for people from all over the Pacific and from as far away as the United States and Europe. The Japanese have made it a popular tourist destination, and Filipinos and Koreans come to work in its textile factories. Islanders from other parts of Micronesia have found it attractive as a place where the life-style is halfway between Micronesian traditional and Western contemporary.

On Saipan, Magrina met Jim and Julie Ellis, mainland Americans living on the island. Jim was her home teacher, Julie her visiting teacher. In 1992, Jim encouraged Magrina to go to the temple. She wanted to go, but by then her husband had died and she had remarried. Her nonmember husband refused to let her go. Eventually, their disagreements led them to separate.

The day before she was to fly to Manila, her husband returned. “When he walked in the door and saw my face, he knew that I hadn’t changed my mind. I loved him, but I also loved my kids and wanted the best for them.” He consented to her trip—and even agreed to stop smoking and drinking in the house.

“So I went to the temple, and Sister Ellis went with me. I really felt the Spirit. Everything touched my heart.” While there, she had the temple work done for her first husband.

The book of Proverbs praises the woman of virtue as more precious than rubies. “Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. …

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. …

“A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised” (Prov. 31:25, 28, 30).

In Micronesia, there are many women worthy of such praise.

Another time I was in a distant city. After a conference we were ordaining and setting apart leaders. As we concluded, the stake president asked, “Can we ordain a young man to be an elder who is leaving for the mission field?” The answer, of course, was yes.
As the young man came forward, he motioned for three brethren to follow and stand in for his ordination.
I noticed on the back row a carbon copy of this boy, and I asked, “Is that your father?”
The young man said, “Yes.”
I said, “Your father will ordain you.”
And he protested, “But I’ve already asked another brother to ordain me.”
And I said, “Young man, your father will ordain you, and you’ll live to thank the Lord for this day.”
Then the father came forward.
Thank goodness he was an elder. Had he not been, he soon could have been! In the military they would call that a battlefield commission. Sometimes such things are done in the Church.
The father did not know how to ordain his son. I put my arm around him and coached him through the ordinance. When he was finished, the young man was an elder. Then something wonderful happened. Completely changed, the father and son embraced. It was obvious that had never happened before.
The father, through his tears, said, “I didn’t get to ordain my other boys.”
Think how much more was accomplished than if another had ordained him, even an Apostle.

Karen Reynolds does have pioneer ancestors—who settled in Utah and in the colonies of Mexico. “I can remember having Pioneer Day celebrations on July 24, followed by pageants about the journey to Mexico. We recounted the early years there, complete with stories of living in caves dug into the river bank,” she recalls. “But I never knew how much I would benefit from the skills my parents taught me—how to work, how to preserve fruit, how to bake bread, how to sew, how to make do with what you have,” she says.

Recently, Karen’s husband had to give up a job with a good salary so they would be able to relocate and help with a family farm because of her father-in-law’s illness. “We don’t regret our choice, but our pioneering skills have really been put to the test,” she says. “Careful budgeting and wise buying have been an absolute necessity for us, not just an experiment in following a Relief Society lesson on provident living.”

“Making do” is not the only thing Karen has learned from those nineteenth-century pioneers. Last year, she and her husband lost a baby. “I thought my heart would break when we laid him in that cold grave,” she recalls. Days later, confined to bed because of medical problems, Karen was still grieving. A ward member brought her a stack of books—including one of pioneer stories. “As I read through that book, I was reminded how many of those women had left their little ones in shallow graves by the trail. My baby has a coffin and a marker, and I can visit the spot. It wasn’t easy, but I started to count my blessings. They went forward in faith, and I can, too.”

For example, Cristopher Tena, a senior from Los Angeles, California, was tasked with organizing volunteers for meal delivery to quarantined students who were unable to leave their apartments. During our peak infection period last semester, this team of volunteers was responsible for delivering food to 300 students twice a day. On snowy days you could spot them loading food into vehicles that they had named "Santa's Sleigh" and "The Polar Express.”

When speaking of these student volunteers, Cristopher said, “They were examples of selfless service. They did not need to know the name of the individuals they helped. They did not need a reward. Instead, they saw an opportunity to serve and did just that. I can speak for those [volunteers] when I say that their favorite part was the distant thank you they would hear from behind closed doors as they walked away.”

“Sarah, would you like to sing in a program?” asked Ms. Gardner, Sarah’s voice teacher.
“I’d love to!” Sarah said.
“It will be good for you to sing in front of others,” Ms. Gardner said, writing in her notebook. “The program is at the end of August, so you’ll have all summer to get ready.”
Sarah told her parents about the program as soon as she got home. She called her grandparents right after dinner. She was so happy!
At her next lesson, Sarah and Ms. Gardner picked out two songs for the program. One song was from an opera, and the other was from a musical play. Then Sarah got to work.
She practiced her songs with Ms. Gardner. And she practiced at home every day. Soon she had her songs memorized. Still, she kept working.
Finally, the day of the program came. Sarah got ready. She put on her blue dress. She brushed her hair. Then she knelt by her bed and asked for Heavenly Father’s help.
Soon they were on their way to the program. “Are you scared?” her mom asked.
Sarah shook her head. “I know the songs so well I could sing them backward!”
Mom smiled. “You’ve practiced really hard this summer.”
When they got to the program, Sarah sat next to her parents and grandparents. Her friend Megan was the first to sing. Evan sang next. Sarah and the rest of the audience clapped after each song.
When it was Sarah’s turn, she took a big breath and walked to the microphone. She sang the first song perfectly. Ms. Gardner smiled at her. Then Sarah started the second song.
It was all going well until she got to the chorus. And then it happened. She forgot the words! Her mind went completely blank. She looked nervously at the audience and motioned to the pianist to stop.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I’d like to start again.”
Her hands were a little sweaty. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She took another deep breath, nodded to the pianist, and began again.
This time, she remembered all the words. The audience clapped when she finished. Sarah smiled, but she was embarrassed.
After the program, Sarah found her teacher.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Gardner,” she said. “I really messed up.”
“Not at all, Sarah,” her teacher said. “You lost your place. That can happen to anyone. The important thing is that you carried on.”
“That’s right,” Grandma said, joining them. “We’re so proud of you.”
That night, Sarah thought about the program. She still felt bad about messing up. But Ms. Gardner was right. Sarah had carried on. She could be proud of that.
It’s a lot like repentance, she thought.
“Hey, Mom!” Sarah called, running to her parents’ bedroom. “I figured out that the program is like life.”
“How’s that, sweetie?” Mom asked. Sarah flopped onto the bed next to Mom.
“I made a mistake in my solo, but I fixed it and moved on. In life, when I make a wrong choice, I can fix it by repenting. Then I can move on and do better.”
“You know, that sounds like a great theme for home evening,” Mom said. “Want to give the lesson?”
“Sure!” Sarah said. She couldn’t wait to share what she had learned.
Have you set a goal to learn something new?
If you make a mistake, keep trying!
This story took place in the USA.

Several years ago on a cold winter night, some of our extended family volunteered to serve dinner in a homeless shelter during the Christmas season. At first some of the younger children were a bit frightened by the sights, smells, and sounds of the inner-city shelter. They had never been so close to such distress before. But in time a little Christmas miracle took place.

As we served the hot meal we all began to interact with the homeless residents. We exchanged smiles, laughter, and small talk. Then the singing started. No one really remembers who began to sing first—perhaps one of the residents or one of the children—but before long everyone was singing Christmas carols. The room filled with the sweet spirit of Christmas. It became like a great party, almost a family reunion. They were no longer strangers but brothers and sisters, children of the same God. It was powerful, personal, and poignant—a night never to be forgotten.

No heavenly angels sang that night at the shelter—at least not in the literal sense—but heaven seemed close. We felt love—love for God, each other, and all humanity. As the evening ended and we stepped back into the cold night, we each felt the joy and meaning of Christmas more deeply. The stars shone a little brighter, and we all felt a little closer to a few of our fellow passengers on life’s common journey.

Such a lesson was recounted on a radio and television program many remember with fondness. The program was entitled “Death Valley Days.” The narrator, known as the Old Ranger, seemed to come right into our living rooms as he would tell the tales of the West.
On one program, the Old Ranger related how the glass was obtained for the windows of the St. George Tabernacle. The glass had been manufactured in the East. Then it had been placed on a ship in New York, which sailed forth on the long and at times perilous journey around Cape Horn and up to the West Coast of America. The precious glass, stored in cartons, was then transported to San Bernardino, California, to await the overland trek to St. George.
David Cannon and the brethren in St. George had the duty to go to San Bernardino with their teams and wagons to retrieve the glass, that the tabernacle of the Lord could be completed. One problem: They needed the then-astronomical sum of $800 to pay for the glass. They had no money. David Cannon turned to his wife and his son and asked, “Do you think that we can raise the money, that we might obtain the glass for the tabernacle?”
His tiny boy, David, Jr., said, “Daddy, I know we can!” He then produced two cents of his own money and gave it to his father. Wilhelmina Cannon, David’s wife, went through the secret hiding places that all women have in their houses. Her search produced $3.50 in silver. The community was scoured for money, and at length the sum of $200 was accumulated—$600 short of the required amount.
David Cannon sighed the sigh of despair of one who had failed although he had tried his best. The little family was really too weary to sleep and too discouraged to eat, so they prayed. Morning dawned. There gathered the teamsters with their wagons and teams, prepared to undertake the long journey to San Bernardino. But they had no $600.
Then there came a knock at the door, and Peter Nielsen, from the nearby community of Washington, entered the house. He said to David Cannon, “Brother David, I have had a persistent dream that I should bring the money that I had saved to expand my house—bring it to you, that you would have a purpose for it.”
While all of the men gathered around the table, including little David, Jr., Peter Nielsen took out a red bandanna and dropped gold pieces, one by one, upon the table. When David Cannon counted the gold pieces, they totaled $600—the exact amount needed to obtain the glass. Within an hour the men waved good-bye and, with their teams, set forth on their journey to San Bernardino to retrieve the glass for the tabernacle.
When that true story was told on “Death Valley Days,” young David Cannon, Jr., was then eighty-seven years of age. He listened to the story with rapt attention. I feel that in his mind, he once again heard those gold pieces, one by one, dropping upon the table as astonished men saw with their very eyes the answer to their prayers.

Brother Yáñez believes that the Lord answered his prayer and allowed him to be Paola’s donor in order to change his heart. “If they had operated on my wife instead of me, I believe I would have gone on living the same life,” he says. It was not a life he is proud of—drinking, smoking, and gambling. He overcame his addictions, he says, because of the answers he received to his prayers. But it was very difficult; he acknowledges that only God could have helped him change.

When I first visited Czechoslovakia, long before the people there had freedom, I was met by Jirí Snederfler and his wife, Olga. I went to their home, which is where the Prague Branch of the Church met. On the walls were picture after picture of the Salt Lake Temple. I said to Sister Snederfler, “Your husband must truly love the temple,” and she said, “I, too; I, too.”
She brought out an album of pictures of the missionaries who were serving there in 1950, when their government required the closure of the mission. As she held up each photograph, she said, “Wonderful boy, wonderful boy!”
Brother Snederfler has always been willing to stand up for the gospel. When the Church wanted the Czechoslovakian government to again recognize it officially, the Communist leaders told us, “Don’t send an American or any other foreigner. Send a citizen of Czechoslovakia.” That was frightening because to admit then that you were a leader of any church meant that you might be in danger!
Brother Snederfler was the one chosen to go to his government. He later told me that he had asked for the prayers of the branch members. Then he went to Olga and said, “I love you. I don’t know when—or if—I’ll be back. But I love the gospel, and I must follow my Savior.” With that spirit of faith and devotion, he went to his government leaders and told them that he was the leader of the Church there and that he wanted them to again recognize it officially.
Meanwhile, Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles had been working very hard to get the needed approval. It came: “Your church is again recognized in Czechoslovakia.”
Brother Snederfler eagerly went to tell Olga and the other stalwart members of the Church there that once again missionaries could come to their country and that they could again worship Heavenly Father in freedom. It was a happy day.
Jirí and Olga Snederfler later served as president and matron of the Freiberg Germany Temple, where faithful members of the Church in Germany, the Czech Republic, and nearby countries attend. They were happy to find themselves each day in the Lord’s house, which they so dearly love.

Tony loved trucks. He would sit on his front porch step and watch them pass his house. He saw a big yellow _________ carrying somebody’s furniture. Then he saw a green _________ pass by with its mixer turning. Mr. Jones drove by in his orange _________ loaded with firewood. A red _________ raced by, screeching its siren. Soon a letter carrier came down the street and stopped his white _________ in front of Tony’s house. The letter carrier walked up to Tony, holding a big brown box.
“Are you Tony Brown?” asked the letter carrier.
“Yes,” said Tony.
“Then this box is for you.”
Tony took the box into the house and opened it. Inside was a big blue _________ that he could use to haul and dump sand in his sandbox. He also found a card that said:
“Happy Birthday, Tony.Love, Grandma.”

I recognized the beauty of music and the total satisfaction that comes from sharing it with others. When I played in church, I felt an inner fulfillment come to me as a performer and to my friends as an audience. I experienced satisfaction each time people would thank me for touching their hearts with my music.
Just as I was realizing my musical potential, I was asked to teach the three-year-olds in church. I discovered how much happiness comes when a small hand takes mine and two big blue eyes look up to me and say, “Thanks, Michelle, for being my special friend.” Serving the Lord through working with his little children helped me understand the real meaning of the scripture, “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God” (Luke 18:16).