Gospel Story Finder

With young people keeping this hectic pace, their parents frequently find themselves trying to catch their sons or daughters for a few minutes of visiting. The dinner table is often the only time when most of the family is together during the day, and a common scene at the table is to watch mother or dad attempt to pump out a little information from their frantically scheduled offspring. Mother: How did things go at school today, Jan?
Jan: Okay.
Dad: Anything interesting happen?
Jan: Nope.
Mother: How did your math class go? I know you’ve been worried about it.
Jan: It’s going all right.
Dad: How is your play practice coming?
Jan: Good.
Dad: Any problems coming up that we can help with?
Jan: Not really, but can I have the car tonight? I need to get together with some of the other kids.
Dad: I guess so.
In fairness to Jan, it is not just from her that her parents try to pump information. If you were to listen to the conversation between her mother and dad when he comes home from work, you would probably hear a conversation like this:
Mother: How did things go at work today, dear?
Dad: Okay.
Mother: Anything interesting happen?
Dad: Nope.
Mother: How did that new project go that you’ve been worried about?
Dad: It’s going all right.
Family members often don’t spend enough time talking, sharing, discussing. They don’t often find a time when everyone is together, and the climate for discussion is not created since everyone is rushing through dinner to get to the next activity.
The lack of scheduling in family time is just as much a problem for the children as the parents. Younger children often are the ones who suffer. They would like to get together with the whole family more often to play games and do other things together. Many teenagers don’t really know anything about younger brothers or sisters. The little one goes on in a world of his own, and the teenager only occasionally dips into that world. It is often a surprise to the teenager to find that a younger brother or sister has grown up or has developed habits or attitudes he doesn’t understand. Older brothers and sisters are important role models and sources of influence on younger children.
Scott was caught up in the excitement of his mission call. In two months he would be leaving for Australia. Following the first flush of excitement came a flood of nostalgia for his home and family, which was surprising since he had not yet left home. He began to look around and see things he had been aware of yet not really seen. There was his sister, four years younger, who was beginning to blossom into a young lady. He saw her trying to cope with the sudden attention boys were paying her, wanting to be popular but not knowing how. Scott wanted to tell her things he thought might help, but he didn’t know how. He suddenly realized that he had never once had a serious, sensitive, personal conversation with his own sister. All of their interaction was in bits and pieces of teasing, complaining, or routine daily matters. Here he was about to try to teach the gospel to people thousands of miles away but had disregarded the opportunity to render a similar service at home.

In 2021, despite not being able to meet up in person with her choir or her mentor, Hazel decided to again enter the Milton Keynes Festival of the Arts and Drama competition again. COVID-19 lockdown regulations demanded video entries. Hazel rose to the challenge, practising while being recorded by her teenage son to ensure she could submit her best possible video. She and her son had to overcome obstacles, hunting around the house for the optimum lighting and sound.
Hazel was especially concerned when she discovered that the videos would be put online so everyone could watch them. Hazel said, “This threw me. It was not as bad as when I did my first public solo for charity, but I admit I didn’t do so well then. However, I was determined I would send in my entry, so I submitted it despite knowing the errors I had made and the cooker alarm going off in the background. However, I did ask them not to put my video online if it was just too embarrassing.”
She continued, “I was convinced I did not have a chance to win a place at all. I had not been able to have lessons for many months, so I resigned myself to not participating in the competition. I also wondered if it was likely to go ahead due to the current global situation. In addition, I was stepping right out of my comfort zone by singing ‘a cappella’ (i.e., unaccompanied by music). This was something I had to do because I had no suitable accompaniment or backing track.”
She explained that while some might say when singing a cappella that it allowed them to sing in their way (any errors being intended), it is not so. Each entrant was required to send in a copy of the sheet music for this competition, so the adjudicators knew exactly what singing was intended. Furthermore, without a backing track, there is nothing to hide any errors. Hazel informed the adjudicators that she did not wait out the musical interludes but allowed the song to flow, which was approved of in their feedback.
Hazel waited anxiously for the results. She shared, “I like this competition for amateur singers, on a comparable basis to why I love being a member of The Wing Singers—it is open to all ages and all abilities. From what I can tell, you do not have to live locally to enter. The competition covers music, dance, drama; and the website is already showing details of 2022 competition.”
She confided that joining The Wing Singers choir and entering this competition twice is all part of a journey. The entry for 2021 was very different from her entry in 2018. This time she had no encouragement, not even her singing tutor. Hazel did not even tell her tutor until after she had sent in her submission. This journey was part of her need to support herself and celebrate her attempting hard things, for managing her reaction to obstacles, and overcoming her deep-rooted negativity and self-doubt.
“Encouragement and praise were not something experienced in my home life as a child, quite the contrary—it was full of abuse, shame and negativity in many forms, most of which I blocked out for about half of my life. For the other half of my life, I have been learning about the abuse, the effects on me, my character, confidence, and self-worth.
“In the short time between the competition deadline and my 60th birthday, I happened to see a video on social media that helped me understand me more than anything else has done in my life, especially when dealing with putting up barriers and not achieving all that I hope to. It also, briefly, left me with the feeling that I cannot change; that I could never succeed.
“So, as I look back at this now, knowing all the mistakes and everything else surrounding my entry, I feel I have done some good in starting to break down another barrier and push against Satan and all the negativity I can be bombarded with.”
Finally, Hazel had news of the competition results. When the envelope arrived, she was happy to see the positive feedback. From experience, she knew that awards are always genuine, as is the feedback.
“I was delighted … but not as delighted as I was when I went to return the feedback page in the envelope and realised on the other side was a certificate! I was extremely excited to see I had been awarded 2nd place, with commendation, in my chosen category.”

A young adult named Hannah was invited to the bishop's office one Sunday and was called to teach the Gospel Doctrine class in her YSA ward. She was terrified at the idea. Being naturally shy and introverted, and having never served a mission, she felt very inadequate when it came to explaining the scriptures.

Hannah accepted the calling, but with many misgivings. The bishop assured her that the Lord would help her to succeed. He quoted President Monson, who has said many times, "Whom the Lord calls, the Lord qualifies."

That night, Hannah opened the lesson manual and read the upcoming lesson. Then she knelt down and humbly prayed: "Please bless me with the gift of courage. Help me not to be afraid to teach."

As she pondered the task ahead, this thought came into her heart: "You don't have to do all the talking. If you will ask a few inspired questions, the Spirit will help teach the class."

She responded to that prompting, preparing several good discussion questions based on the lesson material. By the time Sunday came, Hannah felt at peace. She threw out one question after another, and members of the Gospel Doctrine class were quick to respond. The more that class members participated, the more they all learned. As the weeks and months went by, Hannah began to look forward to those Sunday lessons. She realized that courage to "teach in the Savior's way" is a gift that God is happy to give us--if we will just ask.

By Chrissy Kepler, Arizona, USA
I was struggling financially following a divorce, trying to find my way back into the workforce after being a stay-at-home mom for eight years. I was also struggling spiritually, seeking truth and faith, though I had not set foot inside a chapel since I was a teenager.
One Sunday I was doing my laundry at the home of my oldest sister, Priscilla, an active member of the Church. While I was there, Priscilla invited me to attend church with her family—my first invitation in over 15 years.
I was reluctant at first, but just the night before, I had pleaded with God to show me how to get closer to Him. After feeling an internal tug, I concluded, “Why not go to hear and see for yourself as an adult with your own heart and eyes?”
While we were at sacrament meeting, I noticed a flyer in the Sunday bulletin announcing a self-reliance course on personal finances. I wasn’t ready to return to church, but I felt drawn to the 12-week course. With encouragement from my sister and brother-in-law, I signed up, expecting to learn only how to make a budget and pay off debt. The classes, however, transformed me spiritually.
I had been surprised by the spiritual messages the first couple of weeks of class, but during the third class, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of confirmation that I was home and hearing new but familiar truths. I left the class and drove straight to see Priscilla. In tears, I asked her, “How do I get more of this feeling in my life?” She arranged for the missionaries to start teaching me.
Members of my self-reliance class came to my missionary lessons and supported me. They made a lasting impact on my spirituality and helped me develop a testimony of the gospel and modern-day prophets.
In the time it took me to complete the course, I made several temporal and spiritual changes. I started a new career with a good company, and I paid off several loans.
But the deeper, sweeter blessings that came from the course included creating beautiful friendships, developing a positive relationship with an encouraging bishop, finding a testimony of tithing, receiving my temple recommend, being endowed, and seeing my two oldest children get baptized.
My path to self-reliance is still unfolding, but for the rest of my journey, I will cherish the lessons I’ve learned and the friendships I’ve made.

I was so impressed by the effectiveness of this missionary approach by the prophet that I tried it myself in Puerto Rico. Just a few weeks later I was in San Juan, Puerto Rico, for a district conference. Following the morning session a Brother Martinez brought his nonmember mother and sisters up so I could meet them. As I leaned down over the railing of the stand I could hear the words of President Kimball ringing in my mind. Out they came: “Ma’am, the next time I shake your hand, I hope you are a member of this Church.” To my amazement and joy, her reply came quickly and sincerely, “And sir, so do I.” Five weeks following the conference the Martinez family was baptized. The father followed the rest of the family into the waters of baptism by three weeks. This experience has been repeated at least six times. My life has become rich by following the example set by President Kimball.

As I observed two of our lovely grown daughters that night an incident from the past came to mind that forms the burden of my brief message today. I still think of it with a tendency to tears. Another little girl had joined our family and was of course much loved. Occasionally I had called her older sister “Princess,” but had thought about that, and, since the second young lady was equally deserving of royal treatment, had concluded that it would be well for her to share the title, if it were used at all.
So one day I called to her, “Come on, Princess. Let’s go to the store for mother.” She seemed not to hear. “Honey,” her mother said, “daddy is calling you.”
“Oh,” she answered, with a quiet sadness that hurt my heart, “he doesn’t mean me.”
In memory I can still see the resignation on her innocent child face and hear it in her voice, when she thought that her father didn’t mean her.
My child at first did not understand that my invitation was meant for her. She thought it was for someone else. “He didn’t mean me.” If any within the sound of my voice today need assurance that God’s call to repentance and his invitation to mercy and forgiveness and love is for them, I bear you that solemn witness, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I approached the doors to the church with one clear thought in my mind: “If I don’t find a friend at church today, I’m never coming back.” I had attended church with a friend a few times before, but this was the first time I attended as an investigator by myself and for myself. I felt I needed to join the Church, but I had several fears and concerns.
When I entered the church, I was greeted by a young adult with a big smile and a hearty handshake. He introduced himself as Dane McCartney. I had seen Dane before, when he had tried out for the college football team I played for. My anxiety vanished when he invited me to sit with him during the Church meetings. He also invited me to his parents’ home for dinner afterward. I never had a chance to feel alone that day. Dane and his family reached out to me and helped answer many of my questions. I joined the Church a few weeks later.
Had Dane just been friendly to me that day, I probably would have left church after sacrament meeting and given up, thinking that I had given it a shot but that church just wasn’t for me. While it’s certainly important to be friendly, being a friend involves more than just being nice. The McCartneys’ love and support was important to my conversion.

The branch in Broken Hill is small, and Jared is the oldest Aaronic Priesthood bearer. He’s conscious of the example he has to set for the younger boys, to show his brothers and the other boys “the right things to do.” And the priesthood itself? “It just feels good. You feel special—a lot more confident when you have to do hard things, like tests at school.”
One of those right things to do is home teaching. “I like to home teach,” Jared says. With his senior companion, Lee Robertson, Jared visits five families, offering the prayer when asked. Jared likes people, and home teaching helps him get to know these families better. (It doesn’t hurt that Brother Robertson is also an outdoorsman. He and Jared sometimes talk about hunting wild pigs in the bush, and Jared is looking forward to getting his own compound bow, maybe doing some hunting himself.)
Jared has struck it rich in Broken Hill, all right, but he would also be the first to admit that he brought his greatest treasure with him. The Kowalski home on Cobalt Street is modest, but it’s filled with family and love. As Jared puts it, “We have heaps of fun. We have family home evening, go to the movies. I go camping with my dad.”
The family also reads the Book of Mormon together. Sometimes it makes Jared feel inspired; sometimes it’s hard to understand. But it does help contribute to his growing testimony. “I’ve already got a big testimony of prayer,” he says.
When Jared’s mission call comes a few years from now, it may not be to the jungles of the Amazon. But you know that wherever he goes, he’s going to be happy and successful.
Some people look at a place and think of it as nowhere. Then a guy like Jared comes along and turns it into his own personal somewhere. Like those first prospectors, Jared has found a vein of treasure. He’s rich in the best possible way.

We still had at least three more discussions left when we were interrupted. Our four-year-old daughter, Nancy, came down with what appeared to be polio. I was still teaching a class in my church—dreading now to go—but instead of teaching my Sunday School class that morning, I was feverishly getting Nancy ready for a spinal tap at the local hospital. Our suspicions were confirmed; she had polio. We took Nancy to the Children’s Hospital in Houston, and I packed my Book of Mormon, knowing there would be many hours of waiting ahead of me. Somehow I knew that she would be all right.
In two weeks she was released from the hospital, and I had read a great deal of my new book.
Once more the missionary discussions began. At the next meeting I finally learned why it was that the missionaries kept refusing when I asked them if they would like a cup of coffee. When they told me they abstained from coffee, tea, alcohol, and tobacco, my heart sank. I thought to myself, “Now they’re going to tell me they don’t dance, go to movies, cut their hair, and any number of things.” But I was ready to give up whatever they asked. I already knew the gospel was true.
Now we were near the end of the discussions, and the plan of salvation was being presented. I’ll never be able to describe the joy I felt when I was told that I had dwelt with God before—that he knew me and taught me before I was born. You mean he actually knows me? Me? Just think! God knows me! Me! I was overjoyed. I wept. This was the most beautiful thing I had ever hear—that I had dwelt with God before, and that he knew me personally. Now I could easily think of him as a kind Father, a God of flesh and bone.
When the elders were introduced to us, I was very excited. The sister missionaries had told us about the priesthood, and I was in awe of the elders when they came. I felt the greatest respect for someone who held the priesthood of God. It was such a new thing for me. The children loved them instantly.
Yes, we were baptized. We had knelt in prayer and for the first time, self-consciously and timidly, and prayed together vocally. In simplicity and humility we asked our Heavenly Father if these things were true, and, in answer, received the warm, sweet assurances that only the Holy Ghost can bring.
In the many years since our baptism as a family, there have been many joys—yes, and many sorrows too, especially the death of my husband. Yet we have known the security of the priesthood in our home, the comfort of home teachers. We have laughed, sung, cried; we’ve been down to the depths of despair, and up to the heights of spirituality. We have experienced the sweetness of a temple marriage, the meaning of eternal friendships, the strength of the iron rod when all seemed utterly hopeless. We have helped make peanut butter in welfare projects in Texas, and helped to weed beet fields and canned peas in Provo, where we now live with our new husband and father.
Above all, we are truly grateful to be members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and for the missionaries who made it possible. And now we have sent our own David out as a missionary, with the hope that he will find other receptive souls and bring to them the joy and happiness that the missionaries brought to us.

“You want to work, and you don’t want me to pay you?” Residents of quiet neighborhoods in Fairfield County, Connecticut, can’t believe their ears.
It’s all part of a very special scavenger hunt held by the youth in the New Haven Connecticut Stake. They’ve had many similar activities, but none have been as much fun as scavenging for service projects.
On a Saturday afternoon in late autumn, 200 youth gathered for the activity before the stake dance that evening. Each service the youth performed for residents in various neighborhoods was worth a certain number of points, and the team that earned the most points in the allotted time would win an enviable prize.
They realized that scavenging for service projects isn’t like asking for a pink stocking with a hole in the toe, or a green birthday candle. “Everyone gets something out of this,” said Scott Halverson, a priest in the Trumbull First Ward. Service makes you feel good.”
The youth crowded into their advisers’ cars and drove to their assigned neighborhoods. They were a little apprehensive at first, wondering how people would react.
“Everyone was amazed,” said Curry Andrews, a priest from the Newtown Ward. “One guy took about ten minutes just deciding what he wanted us to do.” And the neighbors were even more surprised when they saw that youth enjoyed what they were doing.
Dave Blanchard, a teacher from the Trumbull First Ward, walked a huge dog. “The dog was giving the owner a lot of trouble, so we offered to take him for a walk,” Dave said. “The dog sure was hard to control. He would turn around and snap at me and all of a sudden he would run off. I could hardly hold on to the leash. It got to be funny.”
Jeff Blanchard, Dave’s older brother, carried items from a tag (yard) sale back into a man’s garage and stacked the boxes against the wall. “The guy asked for my phone number so he could call me anytime he wanted me to do some work for him,” said Jeff.
Becky Rupart’s team found themselves in a very well-to-do neighborhood. “It was a little bit scary, but that made it more fun,” said the Laurel from the Southington Ward. “We were surprised to discover rich people can be just as friendly as anyone else.”
Many people wanted to pay the youth, but naturally, they refused. “Although one man gave us a six pack of soda pop,” said Nancy Busby, a Laurel in the Trumbull Third Ward.
New Englanders are traditionally reserved and not accustomed to being open with strangers. Many New Englanders live a fast-paced life and are less involved with their neighbors. “I was kind of surprised this worked here where people keep to themselves,” said Leslie. “It’s fun to loosen people up,” Jeff added, “although one guy thought it was a trick. I guess it’s hard to trust a group of teenage boys.”
The diversity in people’s reactions amazed the youth. “It was really weird,” said Jeff. “You’d offer to do anything for a guy and he would tell you to go away because you were a stranger. I guess our experience going door-to-door is kind of like missionary work.”
And they found plenty of missionary opportunities along the way. Before they had even arrived at their assigned neighborhood, Leslie Randall’s team saw a man on his lawn. They got out of the car and showed him the list so he could choose which service he wanted. “He asked us to tell him about the Church,” Leslie said. They told him about Joseph Smith, and he responded, “I’ve heard that story before, but I’ve never heard it so well said.”
“It’s fun to give the people a good impression of the Church,” said Becky. “Maybe if the people meet the missionaries someday, they will remember us.” Some of the boys even left pamphlets with people in hopes that it would lead to something later.
“We are like the missionaries who represent the Church when they bring the gospel,” said Jeff. “We represent the Church when we bring service.”
Along with the missionary work, the youth enjoyed just being with each other. “Working together was the most fun,” said Leslie Randall. “At one house, two of us washed dishes in the kitchen, while two dusted the living room and one changed a diaper in the baby’s room. All the time we were singing a song.”
Diaper changing was the most notorious assignment of the day. In one group, all five teammates, girls and boys, pitched in together to complete the odious task. But in another group, Joanna McLay, as the only girl among four boys, found she was the one selected whenever her team encountered a diaper to change.
The competitors learned that they had to work quickly and efficiently. “The boys on my team practically grabbed the rake out of one guy’s hand, while I introduced the group and told him why we were there,” said Bret Smith, a Young Men’s adviser. The teams generally split into two groups, two people taking one house and the other two going across the street.
“We washed two cars at one house in record time,” said Curry Andrews.
When the time was finally up and the scores were tallied, Curry’s all-boys’ team found itself in second place, defeated by an all-girls’ team. “I don’t believe they beat us,” Curry said. “How could anyone work faster than we did?”
Next time Curry wants girls on his team. “Girls are allowed to go inside a house because people trust them,” he said.
Kelly Corkrin, a member of the winning team, won’t disagree. She found everyone her team met had a little something for them to do. “It made me feel good that the people trusted us and let us into their homes,” she said. “Nowadays, I’m not sure I would do that. I guess they were impressed that we weren’t just hanging out, wasting time.”
There were no hard feelings between the two top teams, however. Both first- and second-place winners received the coveted prizes: water squirting toys. As the winners loaded their weapons, everyone else ran to arm themselves with the same old tools they’d been using all day: water buckets and empty soap bottles. The activity ended with a splash.
1. Before the event, select a number of neighborhoods that a member of the Church is familiar with. Draw maps that tell how to get from the chapel to the neighborhood. Indicate the neighborhood boundaries that the team should stay within.
2. At the event, divide the group into teams of four to five youth. Give each team a task sheet, assigning each task a point value. You can use the suggested list, or come up with your own list of possible tasks.
3. Assign one adult driver to each team. Provide each team with a map of their assigned neighborhood.
4. The teams have one hour after travel time to earn as many points as possible doing tasks for residents of the neighborhoods.
5. Youth should introduce themselves as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormons). They should let the homeowner know they are on a service scavenger hunt and would like to perform a service free of charge.
6. After completing each task, the team should ask the homeowner to initial the task sheet. No more than four tasks should be completed at any one home. Some tasks are worth more points than others. The team who earns the most points in the allotted time wins.
Task
Points
Total
Initials
1. Take out trash
1
2. Scrub sink
1
3. Sweep kitchen
1
4. Pick up yard trash
1
5. Feed the cat
1
6. Water the plants
1
7. Sweep the garage
1
8. Wash the dishes
3
9. Clean a window
3
10. Vacuum the living room
3
11. Bring in firewood
3
12. Read a story to a child
3
13. Walk the dog
3
14. Dry the dishes
3
15. Dust a room
3
16. Iron a shirt
3
17. Sing a church song
3
18. Change a diaper
5
19. Wash the car
5
20. Clean the car windows
5
21. Vacuum the car
5
22. Rake the front yard
5
23. Rake the backyard
5
24. Mop the kitchen floor
5
25. Tell about the Church
5
26. Homeowner’s choice
5

As I traveled about the Church promoting the World Conference on Records, Elder Packer said one day to me, “Hartman, because of what you’re doing, the Lord will do something nice for you.” It’s always exciting when the Lord starts doing nice things for you. (He meant in genealogy.)

It was shortly thereafter that I got a letter from a new convert. His parents were not members of the Church, but they were living in Friday Harbor, Washington, and they had some friends up there by the name of Rector, Ed and Eleanor Rector, to be factual. This young man said he had been in Eleanor Rector’s home, and there were at least 5,000 Rector family group sheets that she had filled out, and he wondered if I’d be interested in them. He said, “She’s very ill. She has terminal cancer and she may not live.”

I asked, “Do you suppose she would live until November?” I was going up for the dedication of the Seattle Temple.

He said, “Oh, I think so.”

We went to the temple dedication, and then we went on up to Friday Harbor. We had to ride the ferry for two hours to get there, after we got up to Anacortes. There she gave me five volumes of family group sheets. There must be more than 30,000 Rectors in there. They are all my line. You see, the Lord will do something nice for you if you’ll start doing something for those who can’t do it for themselves—of which I bear witness in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

When I was about four years old, my family and I spent Easter with relatives in Ephraim, a small town in Utah. We went for a picnic there, and it was then that I saw a cactus for the first time. I ran back to my family, and my uncle was the first person I saw. “I’ve just seen something I’ve never seen before,” I told him. I described what it looked like. “What is it?”
“It’s a cactus,” he said. “You know what cactuses are for, don’t you?”
“No, what are they for?” I asked.
“They’re for sitting on.”
I ran back to the cactus I had seen, and I sat on it. The rest of the afternoon was spent with my mother picking out the painful prickles from the cactus. I learned then that when someone tells you something, you have to pay attention to whether he’s serious or just having fun!

Here is an example of how this played out in my gaining a testimony of the Book of Mormon.

I came home to Honolulu after my freshman year at BYU, planning to work for the summer and submit my mission papers. As a way to prepare, I thought it would be a good idea to read the entire Book of Mormon before I received my mission call.

I recorded in my journal that I completed the final interviews with the bishop and stake president for my missionary application on June 3. It was an exciting time, and I anticipated receiving my call a short time later.

After two weeks, my expectations began to build. (I know a two-week wait for anything seems long nowadays). Yet, every day when I checked the mailbox, nothing came for me. After the 3rd week passed, I was slightly worried, but towards the end of the fourth week, I was getting frustrated. I was at a “how is it possible?” intersection wondering what was going on.

In my heart, I was starting to murmur, wanting reasons to blame for the delay. I had followed the process with the then required language test, done the dental check-up, medical exam, and interviews. I was working double shifts at a restaurant to earn money to help support me for two years. How could it be taking so long?

I thought I had done the right things and was disappointed that the situation was not going the way I expected. In reality, it was disappointing that things were not going as they should for a much different reason. It did not occur to me that my slow progress in reading the Book of Mormon might be a contributing factor.

I had been enjoying a care-free summer, and in being honest with myself, when I started reading the Book of Mormon, it was not with real intent. I had not made it a serious goal and was not committed enough in renewing my testimony of it. I had become too casual in my scripture study. I needed to repent, change my schedule as well as my heart, and be humble in my preparation to be a full-time missionary.

When I finally began to act with a “sincere heart” and “real intent,” [5] I stopped thinking about wanting a mission call and instead tried to focus on what Heavenly Father wanted me to learn. The Book of Mormon became a priority, and I found it fascinating to read. As Alma taught, when we plant and nurture a true seed in our hearts, it begins to enlarge our souls, enlighten our understanding, and becomes delicious to us. [6]

When I eventually finished the last chapter of Moroni, I closed the book and said a prayer. I felt a real thrill, a sense of accomplishment, as well as peace. I knew it was true and was excited to share it with others.

At that moment, I also felt assured that my mission call would come the next day. That would be July 23rd, and sure enough, when I went out to the mailbox, the envelope with my mission call to Hong Kong was waiting for me. In reflecting on this experience, I have learned that a seed planted with faith and purpose will grow and bear fruit, whereas a seed planted with hesitation and excuses will result in an empty pot, or in my case, an empty mailbox.

So how is it possible that the Lord would teach me so personally and directly about the importance of the Book of Mormon? The envelope from Salt Lake City had been postmarked the 20th, so the Lord knew of my progress and timed it perfectly, as he always does. It took seven weeks for me to receive my mission call, but it wasn’t just a lesson in patience. It was an investment the Lord made in me with the gift of testimony. I still marvel today how I was specifically tutored. I needed to pay the price to learn what I wanted to teach. As a result, I was able to enter the mission field with motivation and enthusiasm to share the truths of the Book of Mormon. I was able to serve with greater confidence and sincerity because I knew from God how important it was and that it was true.

I heard the testimony of a new mission president, Brother Salik, who is now presiding over the Brazil Rio de Janeiro Mission. He was born in Yugoslavia but moved into Austria at the end of World War II because of persecution. He said that the people almost starved to death but were saved by assistance under the Marshall Plan, in which food, clothing, and monetary assistance were provided by the United States after World War II to help those countries get on their feet. Brother Salik emigrated to Australia, and there two Mormon elders taught him the gospel and he joined the Church. He feels that he was saved by help from the United States.

Sarah Thompson was hurrying to gather the laundry so she could get everything finished before her husband, Ted, got home from work. She opened Melissa’s bedroom door and hurried toward her closet to retrieve the multitude of shirts, blue jeans, and socks for the washer. When she turned to leave, she realized that she wasn’t alone in the room.
“Why, Melissa, I thought you were outside playing with the rest of the children. What’s the matter, dear?”
Melissa had obviously been crying, and it took a while for her to choke out the words: “I—I don’t want to get baptized on Saturday.”
Sister Thompson quickly joined her daughter on the bed and took her in her arms. “Melissa, dear, it’s all right. But you’ve been talking about your baptism for months, and you could hardly wait for your eighth birthday. Why have you changed your mind?”
“I’m scared.”
Sister Thomspon smiled. “Melissa, you’ve been to baptisms before. What is there to be afraid of? Besides, your friends Ann and Sarah will be baptized on Saturday too. Won’t they help to give you courage?”
“But they’re different from me,” Melissa said in a soft, unsteady voice. “They’ll have their dads there to baptize them.”
Sister Thompson knew that Melissa’s nonmember father couldn’t baptize their daughter, but she had thought that Melissa was pleased that their home teacher had promised to do it. “I thought you liked Brother Adamson, dear,” she said. “He’s such a special man.”
“I love Brother Adamson,” Melissa sobbed, “but it’s not the same. He’s not Dad.”
“Sweetheart …” Sister Thompson tried to comfort her daughter. She loved her husband very much, but at the same time her own heart was breaking. She thought of all the times she had wanted to share special spiritual experiences with her husband but had been unable to. Now it was hurting their child. Maybe she had made the wrong decision when she had listened to the missionaries and had decided to be baptized. Yet she had received a strong testimony, and she had been sure that Ted would soon realize how true and good the gospel was. But that had been three years ago, and he still showed no sign of ever wanting to become a member of the Church.
“Melissa,” Sister Thompson began again gently, “do you enjoy going to Primary?”
“Oh, yes! I love the stories, and my teacher, Sister Westover, is so nice.” Melissa had stopped crying.
“Do you believe those stories?” Sister Thompson continued.
“Yes, of course I do,” Melissa answered confidently. “I know that the Church is true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet.”
“How can you show that you know it is true?” her mother urged.
Melissa realized what her mother was trying to tell her, and she knew that she would be baptized on Saturday. But without her dad to share it with—it just seemed kind of scary. Melissa smiled at her mother and said, “Maybe Dad will come to see me get baptized on Saturday. I’m going to ask him just as soon as he gets home.” Melissa went outside to wait for her dad.
Sister Thompson remained sitting on the bed, deep in thought. Ted hasn’t attended a Church meeting yet. He has gone with us to several church socials, but nothing about the gospel has really interested him. She hoped that Melissa wasn’t in for another disappointment.
Melissa saw their car turn into the driveway, and she ran across the lawn to meet her father. Ted Thompson got out of his car, took his daughter in his arms, and gave her a big hug. “What’s my little one so excited about today?” he asked with a smile.
“Oh, Daddy! I’m getting baptized on Saturday, don’t you remember?”
Mr. Thompson suddenly grew serious, “Yes, your mother told me about it.”
Melissa hurried on, not noticing her father’s concerned look. “Dad will you come and see me—will you, please? Everybody else’s father will be there. You’ll come, won’t you?” Melissa pleaded.
Mr. Thompson was caught off guard, and he didn’t know what to say. Finally he mumbled, “We’ll see. We’ll see. It’s still a long time until Saturday.”
Melissa was disappointed, but she decided that a “we’ll see” was better than a “no.” She gave her dad a final squeeze and ran next door to play with her friends.
Saturday was a beautiful, clear day, and Melissa thought that it was a perfect day for her baptism. She hadn’t talked to her father about coming with her since that day in the front yard. But he hadn’t said anything, so she assumed he would be there.
That afternoon Melissa took a long, hot bath, and her mother helped her get dressed in her prettiest Sunday dress. Hanging in the hallway waiting to be put into the car was the lovely white baptismal dress Sister Thompson had made for Melissa. When they were ready to go, Sister Thompson said, “We’d better hurry, dear, or we’ll be late.”
“I’ll get Dad,” Melissa replied. But when she entered the living room, Melissa saw that her father was still in his work clothes, reading the newspaper. “Dad, aren’t you ready for the baptism? We’ll be late!”
Mr. Thompson looked at his daughter’s anxious face and said, “Melissa, dear, I can’t go to your baptism. I’d feel out of place. I just don’t belong there. Please don’t be angry with me.”
Melissa was out of the room and running for the car before he had even finished. Sister Thompson saw the tears in her daughter’s eyes, and for the second time that week she wondered if she had made a mistake in joining the Church.
There was great excitement in the girls’ dressing room as Ann, Sarah, and Melissa changed clothes for their baptism.
“I’m so excited!” Sarah exclaimed. “Dad gave me my very own Book of Mormon. It has a leather cover, and it has my name on it and everything!”
“That’s really neat,” said Ann. “My whole family’s going over to my grandma and grandpa’s after the baptism. Grandma promised to help me start on my Book of Remembrance.”
Sarah and Ann noticed that Melissa was very quiet. “What are you going to do afterward, Melissa?” Sarah asked.
“Well, I’m not sure.” Melissa knew that they would just be going home, but she added, “Mom and Dad are probably going to surprise me.”
Melissa slipped her white dress off its hanger, and as she began to pull it over her head, she noticed a piece of paper pinned inside. She unpinned it and saw that it was in her father’s handwriting! “My dear Melissa,” she read, “I’m sorry that I won’t be there with you today. I want you to know that I am very proud of you. You have made a very important decision in your life. I only hope that I can have enough courage to make that same decision some day. Please remember that I love you very much. Daddy.”
Melissa wiped the tears from her eyes as she finished dressing. When Brother Adamson helped her down the steps of the baptismal font, Melissa had the most radiant smile that her mother had ever seen. Sister Thompson knew then that she hadn’t made a mistake three years before when she, too, had entered that same baptismal font.

Karla taught me many important lessons. Half the time she didn’t realize it. She never preached or condemned or lectured. She taught by example. The way she lived, the words she spoke, all she did helped me to think about myself, about my own life. I was a bit rebellious by nature when I first met her, but slowly that changed. I began to consider the reality of serving a mission. I hadn’t made up my mind yet to go, so that was quite a big step.
The most important lesson I learned through her came in early January that same school year. I had just flown back to Utah after Christmas vacation. Karla’s family picked me up from the airport in Salt Lake City on Saturday. I stayed at their home that night, since her parents had offered to drive us to school the next day after church.
Early Sunday afternoon following church, I found myself sitting on the living room sofa, waiting to leave and reading the comics from the morning paper. Karla’s eight-year-old brother came in, sat down across from me, and opened his Book of Mormon.
“Hi,” he said simply, and started to read.
“What are you reading?” I looked up and asked.
“Nephi,” he replied. “I’m reading it myself.”
“Good for you.” I tried to think if I had ever attempted to read scripture when I was so young. “How many times have you read the Book of Mormon?” I asked, half joking.
His answer put me in my place.
“Twice,” he responded, “with my family.” Then he turned the tables. “How many times have you read it?”
I felt foolish. I hadn’t ever read it. “Well, I’ve started it a few times,” I mumbled. Karla was sitting next to me. Her mother was close by as well. I knew they wouldn’t judge me, but that didn’t lessen my uneasiness. Here I was, three months away from being 19 years old, and I had yet to read a book that I had testified to be true. This eight-year-old child was on his third round. I knew nobody was keeping score, but I was very humbled. If I was going to go on a mission, what kind of missionary would I be if I hadn’t even read the Book of Mormon?
That night, back at the dorm and in bed, I opened the book and began to read. I literally could not put it down. Moroni’s introduction, the testimonies of the witnesses, Joseph Smith’s testimony, First Nephi, and on and on. Each word called to me, strengthened me. I could feel a great spiritual power begin to flow into my life. I knew it was true, I had felt it before, and now the feeling grew stronger. Not quite two weeks later I read the parting words of Moroni and closed the book. I had done it! Tears of joy filled my eyes. I knelt down and thanked my Heavenly Father.
After my mission I lost touch with Karla, but I never forgot the lessons she taught me. Through her and her little brother, the Lord inspired me in ways I can never repay. Most importantly, I learned it is never too early or too late to read the Book of Mormon. And then, read it again and again.

Another Colleague of mine told me of this story to help prove this point of understanding to achieve and how it influences the human potential.

A graduate student was working hard in an upper-level math course. On the night before the final, he studied so long that he overslept the morning of the test.

When he ran into the classroom several minutes late, he found three equations written on the blackboard. The first two went rather easily, but the third one seemed impossible. He worked frantically on it until — just ten minutes short of the deadline — he found a method that worked, and he finished the problems just as time was called.

The student turned in his test paper and left. That evening he received a phone call from his professor. "Do you realize what you did on the test today?" he asked the student.

"Oh, no," thought the student. I must have done poorly.

"You were only supposed to do the first two problems," the professor explained. "That last one was an example of a proof that mathematicians since Einstein have been trying to solve without success. I discussed it with the class before starting the test. And you just solved it!"

The student was George Dantzig, later became a math professor and received the National Medal of Science from President Gerald Ford. He is often been termed, "The Father of Linear Programming".

In the general Relief Society meeting of September 2006, President Gordon B. Hinckley related an experience shared by a divorced single mother of seven children then ranging in ages from 7 to 16. She had gone across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. She said:

“As I turned around to walk back home, I could see my house lighted up. I could hear echoes of my children as I had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier. They were saying: ‘Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?’ ‘Can you take me to the library?’ ‘I have to get some poster paper tonight.’ Tired and weary, I looked at that house and saw the light on in each of the rooms. I thought of all of those children who were home waiting for me to come and meet their needs. My burdens felt heavier than I could bear.

“I remember looking through tears toward the sky, and I said, ‘Dear Father, I just can’t do it tonight. I’m too tired. I can’t face it. I can’t go home and take care of all those children alone. Could I just come to You and stay with You for just one night? …’

“I didn’t really hear the words of reply, but I heard them in my mind. The answer was: ‘No, little one, you can’t come to me now. … But I can come to you.’”2

We may experience hunger, for instance, but if so, we can still respond as did the widow who used the last of her meal to feed Elijah (see 1 Kgs. 17:8–16). Such sharing amid real deprivation and poverty is always touching. Earlier in his life, a wonderful bishop of my youth, M. Thirl Marsh, repeatedly tried to be hired at the mines during the Depression. Being underage but large of stature, he persisted and was hired, but several friends were not. Apparently, on more than one occasion after his hard day’s work, generous young Thirl shared his earnings equally with these friends until they, too, were hired. No wonder he was such a caring shepherd of the flock later on.

The panel discussions had everyone’s interest. All the participants were given slips of paper. They could write any question they wanted discussed without a name attached. They put all the questions into a hat and then the stake president, several bishops, and Young Women leaders would attempt to answer the questions as they were drawn at random. The panel did reserve the right to refer the question to someone more knowledgeable or simply not answer.
“All the questions were interesting,” said Jaran Rosaker, Oslo Third Ward. His friend, Tarjei Gylseth agreed, “And they gave good answers as well.”