Gospel Story Finder

“Wow, did you see that?” my seven-year-old son, Weslon, exclaimed in delight as he watched the football players in action .He wished aloud, “I’d sure like to meet some of the team.”
We frequently found ourselves at the Round Valley High School football games in Eager, Arizona. Besides Weslon, my husband and I had become involved in the games because of our daughter Mitzi, who was a student at the school. As the season progressed, football heroes had blossomed in young Weslon’s impressionable mind.
Battling my own shyness, I determined to help this stargazing, bashful boy meet some of his heroes. “We’ll go talk to some of the team,” I told him after the game. I then led my son onto the field into the crowd. We approached one of his heroes and tried to offer congratulations. The young man walked past us, aware only of himself and two chattering girls who had cut in front of us to reach him. The next player mumbled “thanks” without stopping as I told him “good game” and tried to tell him he had an admirer in my son.
Reluctantly, we approached the last player. As I told him what a good job he had done, Ty Workman stopped, gave a big smile and said, “Thank you very much!”
Encouraged by his response, I started telling him of Weslon’s admiration. Ty’s black hair and handsome face dripped with sweat from his efforts on the playing field as he listened. He extended his hand to shake Weslon’s and said, “Thanks buddy. What’s your name?”
My son quietly said, “Weslon,” and shyly looked down at the ground.
I told Ty, “Weslon likes the way you play.” Ty smiled at him and said, “Thanks a lot. I’m really glad to meet you, Weslon, buddy.”
Mitzi went to school the next day and told Ty, “My little brother thinks you’re a special person.” From then on she relayed messages between Ty and Weslon. Soon the two boys became real buddies. After each football game they could be found together with Ty’s arm draped around Weslon, chatting about the game. We attended every football game, even those out of town.
As we became acquainted with Ty, we found he was popular with everyone—young and old. He didn’t drink, smoke, or take drugs, and he had good moral values. He encouraged Weslon to avoid harmful things and often repeated his favorite phrase, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Several weeks into this friendship, Mitzi came home from school with some disturbing news. Her face a mask of disbelief, she said, “This is so sad. Ty has multiple sclerosis. They said he might not live longer than a year.” Weslon’s face fell as we told him what multiple sclerosis was. A heavy silence came over us as we realized the seriousness of Ty’s illness.
In the next few months Ty had several attacks requiring hospitalization. He lost weight but forced himself to do well on the football field. Ty, along with Mitzi, was also a member of a school singing and dancing group. He made it to many difficult practices and performances between hospital stays.
Late one evening we received a telephone call from Ty’s father. “Ty is pretty sick. I think it would help him if Weslon could visit him at the hospital tomorrow. He’s blind and he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
After the telephone call, Weslon disappeared into his room. He came out a little later, green eyes glittering with tears, and said, “I said a prayer for Ty.”
The next morning we visited the hospital, carrying gifts bought with Weslon’s savings. Ty greeted Weslon with a cheery, “Hi, buddy! How are you doing? I can’t see anything clearly; you look like shadows to me.”
“We brought you a few things, Ty,” I told him, trying not to let him hear the fear in my voice.
“Thanks a lot,” Ty said, his dark eyes looking our way but not focusing. During our visit my words were cheerful, but my heart ached as I watched the two buddies talking.
We were amazed when the hospital released Ty a few days later. He went home with his eyesight and with the feeling in his legs gradually returning. Soon he was back in school.
Our family spent a lot of time with Ty through the next few months. Laughter and friendship raised our spirits during Ty’s visits. He would talk with Weslon about lots of things, always reinforcing his slogan, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Soon after Christmas, Ty was flown to a hospital in the city of Phoenix, Arizona, for treatment. While he was there, he went into a coma. Just when we decided we should take Weslon on the long trip to Phoenix because the doctors didn’t expect Ty to live, we received a telephone call. Ty had come out of the coma!
Following his release from the hospital, Ty’s parents took him to a specialist in California. After many tests the doctors ruled out multiple sclerosis. Numerous additional tests found Ty to be suffering from a virus that attacked the nervous system during times of stress or exhaustion. We were joyfully relieved at the news. Ty was still a sick young man, but now he knew how to avoid the debilitating attacks, and, best of all, the possibility of an early death no longer faced him.
In spite of his many absences from school, Ty was well enough to graduate with his classmates in May. During the summer Ty had a job and practiced for the Arizona state high school all-star football game. He was one of four young men chosen from our region to play on the state team. Weslon was invited to practices, and we made the long trip to Prescott, Arizona, for the all-star game. As a result of his illness, Ty was the smallest player in weight on the field, but his effort helped bring his team to victory.
After the game, he came jogging off the field, covered in sweat, but beaming that wide, white smile. Ty got his buddy by the shoulders and they chatted about the game as I took pictures. He told Weslon, “Stay right here. I have to go get something.” A little later he came dashing back. In his hand was his all-star cap awarded him for playing in the game. He told Weslon, “I want you to have this. Thank you for coming to my game, buddy.”
Ty has been an inspiration to many. He was awarded the first “Ty Workman Award” at Round Valley High School. This award is presented each year now to a student conquering adversity.
December 1987 came and with it Ty’s call to the North Carolina Charlotte Mission. In his talk he mentioned, “I have a little friend here who is really special to me. He is Weslon Whiting.” It was a very emotional meeting for us all.
Ty has filled an honorable mission. He continued to remember his little buddy, writing letters in the same spirit as he used to talk to Weslon. Instead of thinking of the joy he has brought to a small boy he turns the situation around. For example, one sentence will stay in my memory for a long time: “Weslon,” Ty wrote, “you’ve been a big help in my life, more than you’ll ever know.” With each letter he sent to his little buddy he enclosed a coin or two for Weslon’s missionary fund.
Three years have passed since Ty was not expected to live. I thank this exceptional young man for giving me faith in a younger generation. And I thank him for providing my young son with a shining example of a true hero.

Patti Zenger, a member of the Beacon Hill Ward, Beaverton Oregon West Stake, will never forget September 26, 1998.
Patti, partially blind from diabetes, had no idea that Laura Schulthies had organized their ward to “Walk for Patti Z.” in the Vancouver, Washington, 10K fund-raiser.
When Patti got to the church, everyone was wearing red, her favorite color, and had “Patti, We All Love You” signs pinned on them.
“It was so exciting to watch Patti realize how many ward members supported her. Ours was the largest group there,” Laura recalls.

Johanna was only eight when war came to her village in Holland and everything changed. When Johanna was ten, conditions were so bad that her only chance for life was to escape with an older sister and hide in a farmhouse many miles away from their home.
The two girls live with the Oosterveld family, who keep them hidden in an upstairs room—hidden from prying neighbors and from German soldiers who set up an office in the room just below them. Johanna and Sini spend days quietly in bed, bored and lonely and longing for exercise and fresh air. They spend years hidden away from the world.
This unforgettable book touches the heart and holds the reader breathless with excitement, wondering what will happen next. It was named a Newbery honor book for 1973.

After two difficult years at Winter Quarters, Nebraska, Mary Fielding Smith was anxious to follow the Saints west with her family. Besides the children of her martyred husband, Hyrum, Mary’s household included several others for whom she felt responsible. By the spring of 1848 Mary had managed to acquired seven dilapidated wagons, pulled by mismatched teams of calves and young steers yoked together with a few oxen. Urged on by her faith and determination, the caravan hurried to catch up with the other emigrants, three days away at Elk Horn.
At Elk Horn the man in charge said …
“You will be a burden on the company the whole way, and I will have to carry you along or leave you!”
Not knowing Mary’s faith, the man was surprised and resentful at her answer …
“I will beat you to the valley and will ask no help from you either.”
Midway between the Platte and Sweetwater rivers, one of the Smiths’ plodding oxen lay down in the yoke as though it had been poisoned.
“I told you that you would have to be helped and that you would be a burden.”
But Mary calmly asked her brother and a neighbor to administer to the ox.
Within a few moments, the animal was up and pulling his load. Two other times the Smiths’ animals were administered to and healed.
It was a difficult journey under the hot blistering sun …
But eventually the company struggled to the top of east mountain.
“Look mother, there it is!”
That night the company camped at the base of Little Mountain.
When the order was given to roll in the morning, the Smiths met with still another disappointment—most of their teams had strayed away. The supervisor, anxious that Mary’s promise not come true, ordered the company to leave anyway.
“Forward, ho!”
Although it was a beautiful sunny September day, a dark thundercloud formed over the final hill the company was ascending before entering the valley.
Suddenly, a violent storm broke! The teams became unmanageable and the supervisor ordered them to be unhitched. Frightened, the untethered animals escaped.
Meanwhile, the Smiths’ strays were rounded up and hitched to their wagons and the storm had quieted down. When Mary’s brother Joseph asked if they should wait for the company to reassemble, she replied with well-earned independence:
“They have not waited for us, and I see no necessity for us to wait for them.”
True to her promise, Mary Fielding Smith reached the valley ahead of the company and without any help from them. She had placed her faith in the Lord, and had overcome every obstacle.
Note:
Mary’s 10-year-old son, Joseph Fielding, who drove a team to the valley as well as any man, later became the sixth president of the Church.

Every member a missionary.
“Sure, I want to, but I’m embarrassed.”
“It’s hard to do.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t want to force the gospel on others.”
So, what would you think of a simple, no-strain-or-pain approach that allowed you to introduce scores of friends and acquaintances to the Church or gospel principles—while you are doing your lessons?
Karen and Susan Jacobs of Walnut Creek, California, found it fun and rewarding. It started when Karen was in the fifth grade at the American School in Copenhagen, Denmark. She was looking for a subject for a rather ambitious American history report. The teacher called for footnotes, bibliography, note cards, and oral reports—you know, the works. Her biggest hurdle was to choose a subject. Her parents suggested that she do her report on the Mormon trek westward.
“Why not?” she said.
Once started it was an easier topic to write on than most, with all that help at home, her interest, and her background on the subject from Primary and Sunday School.
Few in the class knew much about the Mormons, and the oral report, laced with interest-raising points, created a lively discussion for months afterwards. She got an A grade too!
Once they discovered the approach, the Jacobs sisters used it, with variations, on numerous occasions. For example, eighth-grader Susan spiced up a science lecture on the effects of smoking by dissecting a calf’s heart in class (she had been prepped on where to cut and how the heart worked by George Washington University medical student Milo Andrus, who also supplied surgical gloves and scalpel). Such a graphic presentation by a petite girl made quite an impression on the class—and they got a strong Word-of-Wisdom explanation simultaneously. The grade was A!
The heart lesson went over so well that Karen used a calf’s brain in her science fair presentation on the effects of narcotic drugs and won a prize. Again, she included an easy-to-give, easy-to-take explanation on one phase of the Lord’s law of health.
As a junior at Washington-Lee High School in Arlington, Virginia, Karen was quite put out (furious is more accurate) to find a snide portrayal of the Prophet Joseph and the Church in her history book. It described Joseph Smith as a transient farmer digging for buried treasure. She pointed out the inaccuracies to her teacher who turned the tables by asking if she would like to give a class presentation on early Church history. Karen gulped and accepted. Out came the fifth-grade report. Spruced up with the addition of the Joseph Smith story and a few other gems, it was just the thing. It ended up taking the whole class period. The teacher promptly asked Karen for a repeat performance in his afternoon class. There were dozens of thoughtful questions which led to the missionaries being invited to explain more.
Although there were only three LDS seniors in her graduating class of 800, Karen’s senior government class was treated to four oral presentations on Church subjects. Karen spoke on the United Order, Mike Miller on the nutritional aspects of the Word of Wisdom, and Mark Forsyth on Church government. The bonus came when a nonmember friend, impressed by her prededication visit to the Washington Temple, and with help from her LDS friends, reported on the Mormons as temple builders.
The willingness of Karen, Susan, and their friends to try this approach had wide-reaching effects. Virtually everyone in the school knew them as the Mormons. Located in a major suburb of Washington, D.C., the school was largely composed of children of foreign diplomats, Congressmen, and other military and government officials; yet, the school was replete with drug users, crude language, immorality, nonexistent dress standards, and hundreds of students without fixed standards or ideals. But the tiny LDS group was recognized and respected by teachers and students alike for what they believed in. None was subjected to derision or hassle. In fact, it was most helpful in avoiding unwholesome activities to be able to say, “Remember, that’s a no-no for Mormons.”
Perhaps it was due in part to this early willingness to dig into gospel subjects and share LDS teachings that today Karen is taking time out from her studies in the Brigham Young University honors program to serve a mission to Spain and Susan has only a few months to wait for her mission call.
A great prophet of the Lord called on every member to be a missionary. Can you imagine the impact on teachers and students if every LDS student were to write or give just one report each year on the Church? Even in areas of heavy Church membership, many nonmembers have never been given real, firsthand exposure to our teachings. What easier way to lengthen your stride and please President Kimball? Go on, try it. Or to quote that motto in our beloved prophet’s office, “Do it!”

Mason liked pretending to be a detective. With his notebook and pencil, he wrote down fascinating facts. He inspected interesting evidence with his magnifying glass. The flashlight tucked in his belt lit up dark places, revealing hidden clues. The only thing he needed for his detective kit was a mirror for peeking around corners and peering into tiny cracks.
“Mom, do you have a mirror I can use for my detective kit?” he asked.
“Yes, I have a small one you can borrow,” Mom said. “Please be careful with it.”
“I will,” Mason promised.
The mirror fit perfectly into his pocket. With his kit complete, Mason was ready to play detective. But when he bent down to get a closer look at a possible clue, the mirror slipped out of his pocket. Mason heard a crunch when he knelt on the floor.
“Oh no!” he groaned when he saw Mom’s broken mirror on the floor. Mason felt awful. It was an accident, but he had promised to be careful. Mason wasn’t sure he was brave enough to tell Mom he broke her mirror.
Mason had been taught in family home evening and Primary that he should always tell the truth. But right now that did not seem easy. He didn’t feel like playing anymore. He worried about what to do. Finally, he slipped the broken mirror back into Mom’s drawer.
At dinner, Mason didn’t feel like eating. When he went to bed, he was still worried about the mirror.
The next morning, Mom called to Mason. “What happened to the mirror?” she asked, holding the pieces in her hand.
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I put it back when I was finished playing.”
As soon as he said it, Mason felt awful. All afternoon he felt worse and worse. Telling the lie felt even worse than keeping the secret. Mason decided there was only one way he could feel better. Mason went to find Mom.
“I know what happened!” he blurted out.
“I knew you could solve the mystery of the broken mirror,” Mom said.
“It’s not a mystery,” Mason said. “I broke it. It fell out of my pocket when I was looking at clues. I’m sorry.”
“I’m glad you told me,” Mom said. “I think you know it is always best to tell the truth.”
Mason nodded yes. He was starting to feel better. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that telling the truth was always the right thing to do.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was very small for my age. I was 5?2? and weighed 105 pounds. When you’re 5?2? and 105, not many coaches want you playing basketball, unless you have exceptional talent, which I didn’t. You also don’t make a very good linebacker for the football team.
I was sitting in the gym one day watching the basketball tryouts, when the wrestling coach walked by and said, “We need a few tough guys your size who can wrestle for us.”
I thought to myself, “Obviously I look pretty tough to the coach, so I’ll give this wrestling a try.” I told him I would do it.
My first problem was finding the wrestling room. After some searching, I found it was three stories under the basketball court in an unventilated, very dimly lit cubicle.
As I entered the room, I found the first thing you need to overcome in wrestling is the odor produced by 50 young men sweating in a room with no air circulation.
I found the coach. Instead of being polite and friendly as he had been the day before, he seemed grouchy and mean. He pointed to a kid across the room and said, “Wrestle him.”
I looked at the kid and thought to myself, “This will be a snap.” He was shorter than I was and looked as if he had missed a few meals. I turned to the coach to say he had made a mistake and surely there was someone else I could wrestle. As I did this, the kid grabbed me and for the next three hours gave me a wrestling lesson I’ll never forget. He rubbed my face in the mat and twisted me into positions I didn’t think possible. Finally, after three hours of mat work, I thought we were done. Not quite. Up to the halls we went, where the coach led us in wind sprints and jogging. Finally, four hours after practice began, we were finished. I sat on the bench in the locker room totally exhausted.
The coach called me into his office. He said, “How much do you weigh?”
I replied, “About 105.”
He said, “You’ll be wrestling 98 in three days.”
That was 7 percent of my body weight. “I’ll have to go without eating,” I protested.
He said, “I know.” So to my surprise, a wrestler not only had to work out for four hours, he couldn’t eat after the workout. I made weight at 98 pounds and put up with this difficult schedule for three weeks. Finally I had had enough.
I went home and told my dad that I was going to quit. I thought he would be elated after seeing how much I had suffered. Instead he said, “I never took you for a quitter. I always thought when you started something, you finished it.”
Well, if he was going to say that, I certainly would not quit now. I said, “I guess wrestling is not so bad after all.”
I stuck it out. For four long months I stuck it out. It was never easy. In fact, it was the most difficult thing I had ever done. It wasn’t glamorous. The basketball team got all the recognition. They got the nice locker room and all the new facilities, and the entire school showed up to their games. The school had to assign four members of the pep club to go to wrestling matches. No, it wasn’t glamorous. But much to my surprise, at the end of the difficult season, I had a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that I had never felt before. The most difficult thing I had done in my life turned out to be the most rewarding.

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

In our family, everyone helps.
Fofoa: Our family believes in working together. My brother Etuale and I gather firewood for cooking. We also help make food to sell. I remember one time when our family didn’t make enough money to pay an expensive water bill, so we all did our part to help. My sister sold barbecue. Etuale and I gathered coconuts and other food and then helped sell the food to raise money. By working hard as a family and trusting God, we were able to get the water turned back on.

Suddenly Vienna was placed under martial law when the government suspected a socialist uprising. Foreigners were arrested and deported. The elders, sensing danger, decided to separate. That way, if one was arrested, the other would still be free to proselyte. Elder Hammer stayed in Vienna while his companion transferred to another important city in the empire, Prague, in Bohemia (now Czechoslovakia).
Elder Biesinger found a room to rent in Prague and began talking to residents—those who spoke German—about the gospel. He won a number of friends and investigators, including Johann Klusak, a sectarian Bible agent, and Anthon Just, a dealer in furs.
On the morning of March 30 the elder was aroused from sleep and arrested by two police officers. They took him and all of his belongings down to police headquarters. There, to his dismay and shock, he found that his accuser was Mr. Klusak, the man “with whom I had conversed a great deal about Mormonism and who as my best friend introduced me to a great many people.” Also signing the complaint was Mr. Klusak’s fellow investigator, Mr. Just.
Police examined the missionary for two hours, then delivered him to the jailer. In a prison cell measuring eight by twelve feet, “a dirty hole,” he joined two accused thieves. “The cell fairly swarmed with lice, bed bugs, and fleas,” he recalled. After 48 hours in jail with nothing to eat, he was given a bowl of thin flour soup. Soon he was transferred to another prison in the city and securely locked up in Cell 34. “In the dim twilight I could discern millions of vermin, commonly called lice, crawling over wall and ceiling,” he noted. Two socialists, his new cell mates, were reclined on the floor.
Two days later he received a four-hour hearing. The judge “tried to be polite but was really bitter at heart, still I had a fair chance to testify of the organization of the Church and explain some of the principles of the gospel.” He learned at the hearing that the local newspapers had run articles about him, with his picture, calling him a great Mormon chief seeking to trap people into Mormon slavery.
In Cell 34 the missionary’s cell mate was a man sentenced to be hanged. Later Elder Biesinger was transferred to Cell 38, “where my cell mates were Rudolf Wedlich, a Socialist, and John Menedal,” a man convicted of first-degree murder. The socialist was “a pleasant companion” who joined the elder in singing the “Songs of Zion” to help pass the time. The murderer was a restless fellow who paced up and down the cell like a wild animal. Visitors were few, being the American consul, his son, and then a lawyer appointed by the consul.
Finally, after 37 1/2 days in jail, Elder Biesinger was brought to trial on May 6, 1884. The courtroom contained five judges—“Die fünf richter collegium” as they were called—two prosecuting attorneys for the state, reporters, spectators, and Mr. Pretsneider, the elder’s attorney.
The prisoner was asked to stand up during the questioning. They wanted to know why he was in the country and what doctrines he had been teaching. “In answering their questions, I had a tolerable good chance to explain the principles of the gospel and bear my testimony,” he said. Then evidence uncovered by agents in Vienna was introduced. John Klusak, who entered the complaint, did not appear. Anthon Just testified, but in Bohemian, which Elder Biesinger could not understand.
Allowed a final statement, the missionary complained that he had been very ill-treated by the first court, that as a foreigner he should have been warned concerning Austrian regulations rather than having agents spy on him and try to trap him. His attorney simply asked for leniency in case of a verdict of guilty.
While the judges deliberated, the attorneys and prisoner left the room. Elder Biesinger engaged the chief prosecutor in conversation. One charge against the elder was that he taught immoral practices by defending polygamy in Utah. “I assured him” countered the elder, “that during the 20 years I had lived in Utah I had witnessed no immorality such as I had witnessed in the city of Prague in one night.”
“Guilty,” the judges decided. The elder was guilty of violating section 304 which stated that “if any man is found guilty of canvassing as a missionary or agent for any society, church or sect with the intention of gaining them as converts to their faith providing such societies and sects are not acknowledged by the Church and authority of the state, the same is punishable with a fine not less than one nor exceeding three months imprisonment, and cost of court.”
Because of the prisoner’s good behavior, and his lengthy imprisonment to date, the judges sentenced him to the minimum possible term, one month at hard labor, and a fine of five guldens.
They asked if the elder would accept the sentence. He agreed but only on the firm condition that they understood that he had delivered his message from God to their city and nation for their salvation and that the responsibility for Prague’s rejection of the gospel rested on the authorities of the nation. The judges agreed, dropped the hard labor stipulation, and sent the elder back to Cell 38.
Ten days later he transferred to a better jail with a kinder jailer. Finally, after a total of 68 days in prison, he was released and walked out into the fresh spring air. Surprisingly, he was not banished from the country nor asked about his future plans.

When my daughter ‘Ofa, graduated from BYU–Hawaii few years ago, I asked her the question most parents ask their children when they graduate from college: “Now that you’re graduated, what are you going to do with your life?” She smiled with confidence and said, “What else do you expect? I came here to learn. Now I’m ready to serve. I’m going to serve a mission.” She served an honorable mission in the Auckland New Zealand Mission, and she is now attending BYU–Provo and serving faithfully in her YSA ward.

Developing new friendships. As a newly single sister, I became aware of two widowed sisters in my ward and three others recently divorced, and we became fast friends. We get together often, usually on Friday nights. Our times together have helped us grow close. We support and encourage each other. We have fun together. One sister in the ward, who is a therapist, occasionally meets with us and helps us understand our feelings and deal with our challenges. We look for the positive side of each sister’s trying circumstances. And each of us, at one time or another, has expressed the thought that our difficulties have brought us to a new level of spiritual closeness to our Heavenly Father. Although we would not choose our trying circumstances, we acknowledge the blessings that have flowed into our lives as a result.

“Like you I was going out with a boy, and we were quite serious. We also talked about marriage and made plans. The only difference was that all our plans included his mission. At times it was hard thinking of waiting for him. He wanted me to keep going on with my life but never to forget him. He always told me that Heavenly Father would help us if we went to him in prayer. Sometimes I would try to encourage him; sometimes it was hard to keep from asking him not to go. The thing that helped me realize the importance for boys to serve missions was remembering that I’m a convert, and I owe much of my joy to the two elders who taught me.
“My boyfriend is now serving his mission in California and has been gone seven months. We have both had a chance to grow, and the time has gone fast.
“I would encourage any girl who has a boyfriend to encourage him to serve a mission. He might be the only one who can reach someone special and help him to return to his Father in heaven.”
Karlene FountainLas Vegas, Nevada

Karla is a young mother of two. Her husband, Brent, works long hours and commutes an hour each way to work. Soon after the birth of their second little girl, she related the following experience: “The day after I received the call to serve as a counselor in my ward Relief Society, I began to feel quite overwhelmed. How could I possibly take on the responsibility to help care for the women in my ward when I was struggling just to fulfill my role as a wife and mother of a very active two-year-old and a new baby? Just as I was dwelling on these feelings, the two-year-old became sick. I wasn’t quite sure what to do for her and care for the baby at the same time. Just then, Sister Wasden, who is one of my visiting teachers, unexpectedly came to the door. A mother of grown children, she knew just what to do to help. She told me what I needed to do while she went to the drugstore to get some supplies. Later on she arranged for my husband to be picked up at the train station so that he could get home quickly to help me. Her response to what I believe was a prompting from the Holy Ghost along with her willingness to serve me were just the reassurance I needed from the Lord that He was going to help me to fulfill my new calling.”

Susan woke with a start. What was that noise? She listened carefully. The wind howled through the eucalyptus trees and knocked seedpods onto the roof above her bedroom. The noise of their falling sounded like heavy rain, and it had awakened her.
Susan sighed. Her family had just moved into this house, and she wasn’t used to all the new sounds. It didn’t help that Susan now slept alone. In their old house she had shared a bedroom with her older sister.
She pulled her blankets up under her chin as another shower of pods hit the roof. She was scared, lonely, and, she realized, missing her dad. Susan’s dad was an officer in the military. He was away on training. Although he wasn’t in danger, Susan suddenly grew frightened. What if someday her dad was sent to war and got killed? She didn’t want to grow up without her father. She needed him.
Tears pricked her eyes, and Susan knew she needed help to calm her growing fears. Her sister wasn’t nearby, but she knew that Jesus and Heavenly Father were always close.
Gathering her courage, Susan slipped out from under her blankets and knelt by the side of her bed. She prayed to Heavenly Father to help her, to take away her fear.
And then Susan heard something. It was softer than the clatter on the roof. It was her mother’s voice, and she was singing. As her mother walked through the house, finishing up her chores and getting ready for bed, she sang.
Susan’s mother had a beautiful voice and sang often, but this was the most wonderful song Susan had ever heard her sing. Though Susan didn’t recognize the tune, the words were about Jesus. The song filled her with peace.
Susan thanked Heavenly Father, then climbed back into bed, and listened to her mother’s song. Tears came to her eyes again, this time tears of gratitude and relief. She felt that all was well. She knew she had a loving family. She knew that Heavenly Father cared about her. She believed that no matter what happened, there would always be a reason to hope. Susan knew that whenever fears threatened to overcome her, she could find peace by remembering the night her mother’s song was stronger than fear.

I also remember learning the importance of prayer. When I was about five or six, my baby brother David would sometimes get such high fevers that he would go into convulsions, making his body shake and tremble. This worried my parents. I remember how they put David into a cool bath one day, trying to bring down his fever and stop his convulsions. I took my four-year-old sister, Helen, into another room, where we kneeled and prayed that everything would be all right. We finished our prayer and told our mother that David would be all right. And he was. David never had another convulsion. Prayer is real, and it works.

Traveling without purse or scrip, Brigham found that $13.50 given them by the Saints and kept in his trunk became like the Old Testament widow’s cruse of oil and barrel of flour that were continually replenished; drawn from again and again, it provided $87 worth of fares and meals as they traveled by stage across Indiana and Ohio to Kirtland. There they found John Taylor; he had left earlier while in good health but had been stricken enroute by a near fatal illness from which he was just then recovering. Brigham, showing the expanding dimensions of his spiritual leadership, met with the apostles in the temple where he anointed and blessed Elder Taylor and washed the apostles’ feet.25

The first occurred at that educational institution north of here by some forty-five miles—Brigham Young established that school also, I hasten to add. Jim was student body president there; and, because there are so many there that do not believe or do not understand, he searched for a way to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. The idea came to Jim to honor President David O. McKay as one of their great graduates. He shared that with other student leaders, many of whom were not members of the Church, and they too became enthusiastic. So for one week, the life of David O. McKay, the things that he had taught, and the things that he knew to be true were written in the student newspaper, theDaily Chronicle. In a mass teaching effort, thousands learned something about the gospel of Jesus Christ because of the courage of Jim Moss, whose imaginative mind wanted to teach the gospel to others.

I will tell you another story about Jim. After a marvelous mission, he finished an outstanding career as an undergraduate. From there he went to Stanford, graduated in law, and received many fine offers to labor in top law firms. But Jim wanted to teach young people, and so from law school he became a seminary teacher. Now, of course, he is blessing us by his time here.

Two cousins, called to missions on different continents, embrace their missionary training center experience, while still in their own homes — which happened to be separated only by a garden fence!
Despite the temporary closures of MTCs around the world, the work of moulding thousands of volunteer missionaries into effective gospel teachers continues using technology, while the missionaries are still at home.
Being physically close to other missionaries at the MTC is not currently possible but for two missionaries from Sheffield First Ward, they at least have each other close by.
Elder Pierre Sewell and Elder Keown Dyson, whose mothers are sisters, received their calls in March 2020 just as the country was going into lockdown. Elder Dyson was excited to receive his call to serve in the Jamaica Kingston Mission, which is where he had always wanted to go. Elder Sewell had also wanted to serve somewhere far away but thought there was little chance of that, now that his cousin was going to Jamaica! However, just a few days later, he was thrilled to see he would serve in the Philippines Legazpi Mission, Tagalog speaking.
Having started his mission 21 July 2020, Elder Sewell’s day now consists of getting up early, personal study and language study with a long wait before companion study because his companion is in Wyoming! Two three-hour Zoom lessons follow, finishing at 10 p.m. Elder Dyson’s day also starts early but with teachers based in their homes near the Preston MTC, the lessons do not finish so late. His companion is from Poole, UK and the other members of the district are in seven other European countries. Elder Dyson has already had the opportunity to teach remotely.
Many mission experiences now are using technology to teach, and the physical distance does not seem to matter.
Elder Sewell says this is the generation of technology and the Church has been prepared for this time. Due to current restrictions and visa hold-ups, the two cousins are to be temporarily assigned to missions in the UK, Elder Dyson to London and Elder Sewell to Manchester. Both are happy to serve and work on the Lord’s timetable.
Both elders received their temple endowments on 25 August 2020, saying it was a very special experience and they really felt the spirit. They felt blessed to attend the London England Temple, which had just reopened for live endowments. The only patrons in attendance were the two of them and their respective parents.
Despite the pandemic, missionary work is progressing. We can see the Lord’s hand not only in providing well-prepared missionaries but also in providing tools to reach more of our Heavenly Father’s children than ever before.

President Uchtdorf met his future wife, Harriet Reich, as they attended meetings of the Church’s Mutual Improvement Association. Harriet was baptized when she was nearly 13 years of age, along with her mother and her sister, after missionaries knocked on their door and taught them the gospel. Harriet’s father had died from cancer just eight months earlier. Her mother and her sister have since passed away.
A remarkable reward came to one of those missionaries, Elder Gary Jenkins, who had taught and baptized the Reich family. What a joyful day it was for him, decades later, when on February 16, 2008, his granddaughter, Crystal, was sealed to her husband, Steven, in the Salt Lake Temple by a member of the First Presidency, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf.