Gospel Story Finder

I may be small, but Mommy says that I’m a big help. I help her every day.
Sometimes I help her with the dishes. She gives them to me, and I put them in the cupboard. One day while we were doing the dishes, Mommy said, “Samuel, a new baby is coming to live in our house. You will have a new sister or brother.”
I looked at the cupboard. It was full of dishes. I said, “We can’t have a new baby. There’s no room for baby dishes.”
Mommy laughed. “We’ll find room,” she said.
Sometimes I help Mommy clean our three bedrooms. One is for her and Daddy. One is for Peter and Daniel. One is for Dawn and me. One day while we were cleaning the bedrooms, I said, “We can’t have a new baby. There’s no room for a baby bed.”
Mommy ruffled my hair. “We’ll find room,” she said.
Sometimes I help Mommy set the table. I set placemats and cups. Mommy sets the rest. We have six placemats and six chairs. One day while we were setting the table, I said, “We can’t have a new baby. There’s no room for a baby chair.”
Mommy gave me a hug. “We’ll find room,” she said.
On Sunday we go to church. I put on my pants and shoes. Daddy ties my shoes and buttons my shirt. We all get into the car and drive to church. Mommy and Daddy and I sit in the front seat. Dawn and Peter and Daniel sit in the backseat. One Sunday while we were driving to church, I said, “We can’t have another baby. There’s no room for a baby seat.”
Mommy put her arm around me. “We’ll find room,” she said.
At church I sit on Daddy’s lap. I try to be quiet. I fold my arms at prayer time and during the sacrament. Then I watch the people.
One Sunday while I was sitting on Daddy’s lap at church, I looked around the chapel. It was full of people. I whispered, “We can’t have a new baby. There’s no room in the chapel.”
Daddy smiled and whispered back, “Don’t worry, Samuel. We’ll find room.”
Yesterday the new baby came. She’s a girl. She’s tiny and not very pretty, and she cries. Mommy put her on my lap. She grabbed my finger and held on tight. I’m her big brother. Mommy looked at me and said, “Samuel, this is Eleanor. She has come to live in our family.”
“I know,” I said. “We’ll find room.”

An early lesson in honesty was taught a boy many years ago by his father. When he was just a young lad, he went to the store owned by his father and two business partners; and wanting a pocketknife, he proceeded to take one from the display case. Word got to the boy’s father. The father took the lad back to the case and had him replace the knife. Then he pointed out that he had two other partners in the business, that two-thirds of the pocketknife belonged to them, and that it was not the boy’s privilege as his son to take anything from the company, because it was not all his.

This father was honest and upright in his dealings; he was a man of integrity. When he made a bargain or a deal he kept it, regardless of what the cost to him might be. His reputation was for fairness with people. To him this attribute was more important than money.

A young woman in another country applied to work as a journalist, but the official who assigned jobs was merciless. He said to her, “With my signature, I guarantee you will not become a journalist but will dig sewers.” She was the only woman digging sewers in a gang of men.

Years later this woman became an official. One day a man came in needing her signature for a job.

She asked, “Do you remember me?” He did not.

She said, “You do not remember me, but I remember you. With your signature, you guaranteed I never became a journalist. With your signature, you sent me to dig sewers, the only woman in a gang of men.”

She told me, “I feel I should treat that man better than he treated me—but I do not have that strength.” Sometimes that strength is not within us, but it can be found in remembering the Atonement of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

President Harold B. Lee was my grandfather. One of his favorite hymns was “Lead, Kindly Light.” I remember how often he would say that he was, as Nephi of old, “led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which [he] should do” (1 Nephi 4:6).

I remember going to him as a young man, just finishing my senior year here at BYU, trying to decide what I would be when I grew up. I took to him my patriarchal blessing and asked him to read it and counsel me. I think in my heart of hearts, though I would not have admitted it at the time, I expected that his counsel would operate something like a crystal ball—that he would help me find my occupation or, even better, my wife, whom I still hadn’t found at that time.

He read the blessing and then paused for a minute and said, “Alan, I think you worry too much about the future.” This was not what I had come to hear. He went on to say, “Let me give you a thumbnail sketch of my life.” He said, in essence:

I grew up as a boy in Clifton, Idaho. We prayed for the “pillars of the Church”—we meant the Brethren, the General Authorities. I could no more have dreamed of becoming one of them than of flying to the moon, which also seemed impossible in those days. And had I known that would happen, I might have been like Jonah, who ran from Nineveh when he received that assignment. And then I came back from a mission and thought I might be a farmer. But the farm was in real financial difficulty, and I had to go someplace else. I went to the University of Utah and got an education and met my wife. I didn’t know what I would be when I grew up, but I was lucky to get a job as a principal in an educational institution following graduation. A few years later there was another opening in a book-distribution company. And then a city commissioner died in midterm, and I was appointed to fill his term. I was called as a very young stake president, and half the members of my stake were out of work during the Great Depression. We had to struggle with how to provide welfare for them. Then I was called to start the welfare program for the whole Church. A few years later I was called as an apostle.

At this time, as he was talking to me, he was a member of the First Presidency. He said, “Looking back, Alan, do you think I could have taken thought and planned any of those steps? Do you think it would have helped me to do so?”

“Minding the gap” does not mean spending too much time in the future. My grandfather would say to me, “Don’t live too far into the future. Live for today.” He would say, “Survey large fields and cultivate small ones. Do the good that is right before you.” “Live for today, and let the Spirit guide you to do the good you can today. Don’t live too far into the future.” These were his words to me. He knew that if we would get on the path of obedience and faith, it would lead to the right end, even if we couldn’t see which way it was going. It is only human to want to see how to close the gaps in our lives as individuals or as groups. But the Lord often asks us to walk by faith.

Then, nearly a century and a half later, on April 4, 1999, President Gordon B. Hinckley said in his final remarks at General Conference, "I feel impressed to announce that among all of the temples we are constructing, we plan to rebuild the Nauvoo temple."[31]

President Hinckley's grandfather, Ira N. Hinckley, was a young man in Nauvoo. His father, Bryant S. Hinckley, served as president of the Northern States Mission which included Nauvoo. In 1938, his father wrote that Nauvoo would rise again and, "annually, thousands . . . will visit it."[32]

In 1939, President Hinckley's father led a 100th anniversary celebration of the founding of Nauvoo. President Hinckley has said that his father "wished with all his heart to see the temple rebuilt and worked to that end."[33]

Many things had to come together in order for that to happen. The property needed to be acquired. In 1937, hearing that the property was going to be offered for sale, the Brethren sent Brother Wilford C. Wood to see if he couldn't purchase it for the Church. This was during the Great Depression and the First Presidency authorized him to spend no more than $1000. Brother Wood was distressed when, visiting with bank officials, he learned that the bidding for the property would start at $1000 and probably sell for $1500. Brother Wood felt impressed to ask, "Are you going to try to make us pay an exorbitant price for the blood of a martyred prophet, when you know this property rightfully belongs to the Mormon people?"

Brother Wood later said that he "felt the spirit of the Prophet, Joseph Smith in that room. [One of the officers] said, 'We will sell the lot for $900.'"

In 1948, a chance meeting between LDS missionaries and a descendant of William Weeks, the architect of the Nauvoo Temple, led to the acquiring of the plans for the original temple. After President Hinckley's announcement, members of the Church brought forward journals from that period that described the temple. A rare photograph taken in 1847 surfaced, providing researchers with additional materials.

“My grandfather was a patriarch. His health was deteriorating, and Mother wanted him to give my brother and me our blessings, so she took us to his home, where he sat on the edge of his bed in his bedclothing and gave us our blessings. It made me remember the story in the Old Testament of Isaac blessing Jacob, because Isaac, like my grandfather, was old and infirm. When he gave us our blessings, what he said was truly prophetic. He died a few months later.”

Over forty-five years ago, when Dallin H. Oaks was a law professor at the University of Chicago, he had a harrowing encounter that almost ended in bloody tragedy. One evening, after a late church meeting, Elder Oaks and his wife, June, drove another sister to her apartment building. Returning to the car after walking this sister to her door, he was accosted by a young man brandishing a gun. The agitated juvenile jabbed his barrel into Elder Oaks' belly, demanding all his money. When he discovered Elder Oaks didn't have any cash, he demanded access to the car where June was inside watching this terrifying drama through the window. Think for a second, how would you have responded to that threat? Elder Oaks chose to not give in to his demands. A stand-off ensued, and the young man threatened to kill him if he didn't comply. But Elder Oaks stood firm.
At one point during this tense stalemate, the young man became distracted by a bus approaching behind him, out of his view, and he let his gun drift a bit to one side. Elder Oaks saw an opportunity, fully confident he could disarm the young man if he acted quickly to seize the weapon. Now what would you have done? Would you have made a grab for the gun? Elder Oaks almost did. But then something happened. "I did not see anything or hear anything, Elder Oaks said, "but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man's chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also understood that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life."[1] It was a surprising thought for Elder Oaks; his life and the life of this stranger, this young man who wanted to harm him, were intertwined. Either they both made it out alive or both of them would be damaged. And that simple thought, that connection, completely changed the situation. "I relaxed," Elder Oaks said, "and as the bus pulled away I followed an impulse to put my right hand on his shoulder and give him a lecture. June and I had some teenage children at that time, and giving lectures came naturally. 'Look here,' I said. 'This isn't right. What you're doing just isn't right. The next car might be a policeman, and you could get killed or sent to jail for this.'"[2] Now it was the young man's turn to be surprised. The man he'd threatened to kill wasn't scared or angry, but was acting like a loving father, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and expressing genuine concern for his safety. This totally threw him off. "With the gun back in my stomach," Elder Oaks noted, "the young robber replied to my lecture by going through his demands for the third time. But this time his voice was subdued. When he offered the final threat to kill me, he didn't sound persuasive. When I refused again, he hesitated for a moment and then stuck the gun in his pocket and ran away."[3]

“Saturday’s activity will be a daddy-daughter cooking class,” Sister Marshall announced.
A wave of excited murmurs rolled through our Primary group. I suppose every girl was imagining bubbling desserts, fun games, and two whole hours with her dad. Every girl but me, that is. I didn’t have a dad—not even a shared-visitation dad like the ones some girls at school talked about. Instead of excitement, an anxious knot twisted in my stomach. I felt my face flush hot with emotion, and I clenched my teeth, fighting to force back tears.
Sister Marshall must have noticed my reaction. Once the meeting was over, she gently placed her hand on my shoulder. “Feel free to bring your mom, Tess.” She meant well, but those simple words were enough to set my tears free. I dropped my head so she wouldn’t notice and turned away.
“It’s OK,” I told myself. “You don’t have to go to that silly activity anyway.” But I knew it was a lie. I would have given anything to be part of a family that didn’t need special instructions from Sister Marshall—a family like the others that I saw dotting the rows of the chapel every Sunday. But my dad had left my mom and me when I was just a baby. We hadn’t heard from him in years, and I knew there was no way he was going to magically reappear just in time for Saturday’s activity.
“Get over it!” I ordered myself for at least the hundredth time since our baptism three years before. Our family was so much stronger now that we had a testimony of Heavenly Father’s plan, and I was grateful for all the gospel had given us. Still, it hadn’t been easy stepping into a group of friends who had been together since they were little—sharing baptisms, Primary activities, ward socials. I was the new girl, and although the others really tried to make me feel included, I still felt that I was different. I sometimes felt like a puzzle with one center piece missing.
“How was class?” Mom asked cheerfully as we drove home. She was a different person since our baptism—happier and more confident.
“Great,” I fibbed. Probably better not to worry her about the cooking class. After all, there was nothing she could do about it.
The week passed quickly. Schoolwork, chores, and friends kept me busy and allowed me to forget about Saturday’s activity. That is, until the phone rang Friday night.
“It’s for you,” my sister said, holding out the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Tess. This is Brother Erickson.” Brother Erickson was our home teacher. He owned an ice-cream shop in town and sometimes brought containers of mint chip or cherry chocolate to our house. He often made me laugh with his twinkling eyes and quick smile. But I couldn’t imagine why he would be calling me.
His voice was cheerful and strong. “I was wondering if you’d let me join you at the cooking class tomorrow.”
I held my breath and peeked into the kitchen where my mom was washing the dinner dishes. I smiled at the mounds of bubbles clinging to her arms. “She couldn’t have told him,” I thought. “She didn’t even know.” I wondered if Sister Marshall had called him.
“I read about it in the bulletin last Sunday,” he continued. “It sounds like fun.”
“Oh yeah, the bulletin.”
“So? Think you can handle toting an old man like me around your party?”
“You don’t have to—” I started.
“I want to!” Then he was silent for a moment. “Please.”
“Well, OK.” To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure it would be OK. I mean, I didn’t know him that well. But my new excitement for going to the activity outweighed any doubt.
Saturday came, and when Mom dropped me off at the church, Brother Erickson was waiting for me in a bright red apron. His smile eased my worries as we joined the other fathers and daughters. We had a blast learning how to make cherry cobbler and homemade whipping cream in our crowded meetinghouse kitchen. He never once made me feel like he was doing me a favor or just fulfilling his calling.
When Mom came to pick me up, Brother Erickson gave me a big high five. “Thanks for letting me come. I had a great time!” I knew that he really meant it.
Years passed, and Brother Erickson remained our home teacher. In addition to his visits, he invited my family over for many game nights at his house. He joined me at more father-daughter activities and gave me my first real job at his ice-cream store when I turned 16.
After college when I was getting married in the Los Angeles California Temple, I asked Brother Erickson to serve as a witness. When I walked into the sealing room, I saw him sitting in the chair typically reserved for the father of the bride. He smiled his silly smile at me, and I knew that he was exactly where he should be. After all, he was no ordinary home teacher. He had become my very close friend.

When I turned 12, my beloved father, Moise Kouassi Avana, passed away, leaving behind my mother, my three siblings and me. I was devastated and did not anticipate the pain and emptiness his passing would leave in my life. I mourned my father every day, yearning for the truth about whether I could see him again, until I was introduced to the restored gospel by a fellow student, Laure, in high school.
In a religious debate with classmates, Laure boldly stated, “There is only one true Church upon the surface of the earth.” Intrigued, I approached her immediately, asking, “Where is this church you spoke about? I challenge you to accompany me there this Sunday to see if what you proclaimed is true”.
On October 3, 2010, the first Sunday of the month, I went and was warmly welcomed. I felt what I later recognized to be the Holy Ghost. Subsequently, I attended church multiple times, received teachings from full-time missionaries about the plan of salvation, and learned of the possibility of seeing my father again by embracing the restored gospel.
One day, I knelt in prayer, something I had never done, and poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven. In response, I received a personal testimony that the Prophet Joseph Smith was truly called of God, and that the Book of Mormon is powerful evidence of the Restoration. This experience set me on the path of conversion, and on October 31, 2010, I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I received the promise that I would be reunited with my late father if I kept my covenants and prepared to perform proxy baptism for him in the temple.
At the end of 2014, I read Doctrine and Covenants 31:2–3 that states. “I will bless you and your family . . . and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in my church.
“Lift up your heart and rejoice, for the hour of your mission is come; and your tongue shall be loosed, and you shall declare glad tidings of great joy unto this generation.”
I knew that I had to fulfill the priesthood duty by serving a full-time mission. I informed my siblings and my mother of my desire to serve. My mother initially opposed the idea and threatened to disown me if I left. Through prayer and fasting, she eventually relented. I was called to serve in the Accra Ghana Mission, and the promise of seeing my father again became a reality after he was baptized by proxy in the Accra Ghana Temple.
In 2016, one night while on my mission, after praying and falling asleep, I had a dream in which a tall man dressed in white, whom I couldn’t clearly see, appeared to me. As he drew nearer, I realized it was my father. His presence filled me with immense joy, and he imparted many teachings to me, instructing me to write them down. The next day, as I reviewed my journal, I found that much of what he had taught me was recorded therein. My joy was full of the truth that many of the things he shared lightened and eased my progress on the covenant path.
Upon completing my mission, countless blessings such as entering the new and everlasting covenant of marriage, serving in the missionary training center and the temple, and having an eternal family served as evidence of the fulfillment of the plan of salvation in my life, as well as in the lives of my wife and children. Being able to baptize my mother and seeing my older sister join the Church in the same year, 2023, attested to me of the truth that Heavenly Father always pours His blessings and fulfills the promises He makes to His covenant-keeping children.
I am grateful to the young boy, Joseph Smith, who without hesitation, prayed to a loving Father in Heaven. That prayer led to the reopening of the heavens and brought on earth the gift of the restored gospel to all of God’s children, which gospel turned my heart to my parents. I am looking forward to being sealed to them for eternity. I know that Heavenly Father loves me and has made all truths available to me and to the rest of my brothers and sisters through the Atonement of His Only Begotten Son, even Jesus Christ. These truths and blessings in my life are the anchor of my testimony and my faith in the Lord. I know without any doubt that the Book of Mormon is true, and we have a living prophet, chosen by God, on earth.

Imagine having the opportunity to share the gospel with people from 11 different countries at the same time! That’s what Mark Fletcher was able to do during the summer. He was selected as a youth ambassador for the city of Phoenix and given the opportunity to visit Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic. Everywhere he went, with city officials, at camps, and in social gatherings, Mark was recognized as a Latter-day Saint and often answered questions about his standards.

Then similar youth ambassadors from 11 countries gathered in Phoenix, and Mark was able to talk about the Church with them as well. It was great to follow his brother’s example of missionary work in Brazil by sharing his testimony with youth from all over the world.

When President Harold B. Lee was growing up in Clifton, Idaho, “money was dreadfully scarce” for his family. Their “farm produced generously, but grain and potatoes brought little” monetary return. Their “father augmented the family income by contracting for custom grain cutting, drilling wells, and building irrigation canals.” And so they had sufficient for their needs. “The Church provided entertainment opportunities” for the family.

“The Lee children did not know they were poor.” Their home was filled with love and laughter, reading, and music. Their mother was a skilled homemaker who made a very little go a very long way. Her children were always dressed appropriately for church. As an adult, President Lee recounted, “We had everything money could not buy.”

However, I think most of us would perhaps more identify with a "rank and file" member of the Church named Joseph Millett.

After serving a difficult but fulfilling mission to Canada, Brother Millett returned to his home with a strong testimony of the Lord and a peace borne of conversion in his soul. Years later, Brother Millett, now the father of a large family was suffering through very, very difficult times. In his journal he wrote:

"One of my children came in and said the Brother Newton Hall's folks was all out of bread, had none that day."I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came."Says I, 'Brother Hall, are you out of flour?' "'Brother Millett, we have none.'""'Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.'""Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.'"'Well Brother Hall, you needn't bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don't owe me for it.'"

That night Joseph Millett recorded a remarkable sentence in his journal:

"You can't tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett."[38]

This is the peace of the Savior that can and must needs be in each of us continually. Not because we are entitled to it as bespeaks our conversion from the pre-mortal life, but from what we have become in the mortality we all experience now.

Even though I had been attending a preschool for three years to help me with my speech problems, when I started kindergarten, my family, friends, and schoolteachers still had a hard time understanding what I was saying. My parents were concerned. My family fasted for me, and my dad gave me a priesthood blessing. My speech didn’t improve overnight, but by the middle of the school year my teacher, my family, and my friends could understand me better. Heavenly Father blessed me and the people who worked with me. I could finally bear my testimony. I still have to take speech classes and work hard, but I know Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.

“How did I get stuck with such a duck!” San Fai muttered in frustration.
As usual, the duck was upside down in the rice pond. Wiggling above the water’s surface was the duck’s red-feathered rump. Underneath the water, his long neck and beak searched eagerly for a better minnow to swallow than the last one.
San Fai’s seventeen plain brown ducks had swum obediently to the edge of the rice paddies the moment he’d held up his pole topped with a few bits of colored cloth. Each afternoon hundreds of brown ducks had waddled out of the rice fields as farmers waved homemade flagpoles. Every duck knew its own flag.
Now the sun was sinking low over the green rice fields, and there was only one duck left in the middle of the paddies—the duck with the red rump was still bottom up in the muddy water! San Fai lowered his head in embarrassment as farmers carrying their poles filed down the dirt lane. Their ducks marched like little armies behind them. The boy looked at his own seventeen quacking ducks. San Fai’s family was poor; his “army” was small, indeed.
“It looks like Red Wiggle is still out there, as usual,” guffawed one farmer as he passed by. “I’ve never seen such a duck. You’d think he’d drown, with his head underwater all the time.”
“I guess I’d better go round him up,” mumbled San Fai.
“If I were you, I’d just leave him there,” the farmer twitted the boy. “He isn’t worth the bother. That bird doesn’t have a bit of sense.”
“I wouldn’t leave Red Wiggle even if I had as many ducks as he does,” San Fai murmured to himself as the farmer strode on, followed by nearly a hundred ducks.
San Fai shrunk down as another farmer, Chan Sou, marched toward him with a legion of ducks. Chan Sou was the richest of all the rice farmers. He was also a bully, and all the other farmers avoided him. As he came near, Chan Sou poked San Fai and chortled, “Why don’t you give up rice farming. All you do is chase that funny duck of yours. He doesn’t know which way is up and which way is down.” Chan Sou cackled with laughter, and he and his ducks strutted on down the lane.
San Fai sloshed down the muddy row of rice toward Red Wiggle. Sometimes he was tempted to let the duck stay in the rice field. Yet whenever he left his other, obedient, brown ducks in the lane to go after his unruly duck, San Fai felt like the shepherd in Jesus’ parable that his mother read to him from the book of Luke.* If that shepherd could leave ninety-nine sheep to search for one sheep, San Fai could not abandon one duck in the rice paddy.
The next day was the hottest in many weeks. Sweat poured down San Fai’s face as he leaned on a stick and weeded expertly between the rice stocks with his limber toes. Even the mud and water crawling up his legs didn’t alleviate the heat. And the ducks, which usually paddled tirelessly through the rice paddies, seemed listless today. Some farmers had umbrellas to shield themselves from the hot sun, but San Fai always let his mother use their family’s only umbrella.
San Fai was relieved when the sun began setting over the vast fields of rice. He waded to the edge of the rice paddy and pulled his homemade flag out of the ground to signal his ducks. Soon he was surrounded by quacking ducks. He counted them routinely under his breath. “… seventeen, eighteen—they’re all here!” Then he looked again. There was no red duck among all the brown ones. There were eighteen ducks, but Red Wiggle was not one of them. He wondered where the extra duck had come from.
As the boy squinted across the rice paddies into the orange sun, trying to spot his duck, he heard a gruff voice behind him. It was Chan Sou. “There’s no use looking for your red bird. You’re not going to find him. While I was plowing in the far field today, your duck was tail up, as usual, and my water buffalo kicked him. Now you’re rid of him for good.”
San Fai’s eyes bulged with anger. He gritted his teeth and wanted to hit Chan Sou. He tried to tell himself that it was just an accident, but he knew that Chan Sou could have done something to avoid it. He knew, too, that Chan Sou didn’t care if Red Wiggle was dead.
All the way home, with his flock of ducks parading behind him, San Fai wished that he could still see Red Wiggle upside down in the rice paddies. He would never complain again if only he could wade out to get the unruly duck each evening. …
When San Fai reached his family’s dusty yard, the mud-washed pig grunted in disgust as the noisy ducks waddled past him. One duck paused in confusion. San Fai looked down at it. He winced as he recognized whom this stray duck belonged to. Now he remembered counting eighteen all-brown ducks.
San Fai fiddled with the bowl of rice his mother set before him at dinner. She said, “I know that you’re sad about Red Wiggle, but you need your rice to keep healthy.”
San Fai gulped down a few mouthfuls of rice, then stood up. “I have to go to Chan Sou’s tonight. One of his ducks strayed home with ours, and I must take it back.” He hoped that his mother would say that he shouldn’t bother, that Chan Sou would never miss one duck. But his mother didn’t say a word.
When San Fai knocked on Chan Sou’s door, he nervously removed the wiggling duck from a bag. Chan Sou opened the door a few inches and peered out. “What do you want?” He growled.
San Fai stammered, “One—one of your ducks strayed home with mine. I brought it back.”
“Umpf,” grunted Chan Sou. “I thought that I didn’t have all my ducks when I came home tonight. Are you sure that you didn’t lure this duck home with you to replace that worthless duck of yours?”
“No, sir!” San Fai replied indignantly.
“Well, set him down. He’ll wander back in with the rest of my ducks. Just don’t let it happen again!” Chan Sou slammed the door.
San Fai walked dejectedly home in the moonlight. His mother was waiting at the door for him. San Fai cast his eyes down and neither said anything for a few minutes. They listened to the pig grunting and the chickens clucking in their sleep.
San Fai shuffled uneasily. “You know, Mother, as I was walking over there, I was secretly hoping that he would say that I might keep the duck, that he had more ducks than he knew what to do with. I thought that since I was doing the right thing, Heavenly Father would bless me for it that way.”
His mother smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad that you did the right thing and took the duck back. Eventually we are always blessed for everything that we do right. But we should never look for a reward. Think about Jesus’ parable of the lost sheep. Sometimes they don’t come back. But at least we know that we’ve done our best and that we’ve done what is right.”
She took his arm and pushed him toward the little pond by the shed. “Now, I want to show you something. You know that duck, Lily, that we’ve been wishing would lay eggs for so long. Well, she’s finally done it. Maybe some of them will hatch. And who knows,” she said with a wink,” maybe one of the ducklings will have red tail feathers.”

It was on an overcast day years ago that my friend called and asked me to attend the Jordan River Utah Temple with her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go out, as that day the things of the world were weighing heavily upon my soul. I felt I had little self-worth, and among other things, I didn’t feel needed in my ward.
But after some hesitation, I accepted my friend’s invitation with a prayer in my heart that if I would go and do the Lord’s work, He would help me find peace of mind and an answer to my prayers.
At the temple I enjoyed the session but felt no particular answer to my plea for help. After I had prepared to leave and was waiting for my friend, a woman in a wheelchair bumped into me. As I bent down to rub the pain in my leg, I heard her say in a sweet voice, “Oh, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” She gently touched my head. “Are you OK, dear sister?”
I looked up into an angelic face of pure love. She then looked me in the eye and, with a squeeze of the hand, said, “This Church needs you, and there are so many that need your love. Reach out to others, and they will reach out to you. You are needed, wanted, and loved in the Lord’s kingdom.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I cried for a few minutes as she held my head against her. When I regained control, I wiped away tears of joy and replied, “You have answered my prayer.”
I realized I was speaking to Camilla Eyring Kimball, whose husband, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), had said: “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs” (“The Abundant Life,” Tambuli, June 1979, 3; Ensign, July 1978, 4).
I then found the strength to go home with joy and to give love from that day forward. I shall never forget how I was given peace and an answer to my prayer in an unexpected way on that glorious day in the house of the Lord.

Vitaly: Katya and I were married in Omsk on February 25, 2006. (The laws of Russia require a civil marriage prior to a temple sealing, as many countries do.) The next morning we set off on a trip to the Stockholm Sweden Temple. We boarded an airplane in Omsk and flew three hours to Moscow, where we spent the rest of the day. Then we took an overnight train to Saint Petersburg. Once there we got on a bus with other Latter-day Saints and traveled for eight hours to Helsinki, Finland. The last leg of our journey was an 11-hour ferry ride to Stockholm.
Finally, we had reached the temple.
For some, such a long trip may seem like a challenge, but in many ways, our trip across Europe made a great honeymoon.
The day of our sealing, March 1, 2006, was a great day—a day of peace and assurance. I knew that the person whose hand I was holding was the one I’d share eternity with. This thought alone filled me with great joy and gratitude to Heavenly Father for trusting me with His daughter for my wife. I felt closer to Him than ever before.

It wasn’t until after my first business venture broke down and my second one burned to the ground that I wondered if I would be able to take my fiancée, Beny, to the temple. We had heard that getting there would be a trial of faith, but when we made temple marriage our goal, we had no idea how thoroughly our faith would be tested.

Beny and I met in our native Panama after serving missions. Because of the laws in Panama, couples who wanted to start their married lives in the temple were married civilly just before traveling to the nearest temple, the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. It would be an expensive and difficult trip, but being sealed was a blessing we did not want to live without.

The day after I proposed, I lost my job. Undaunted, I decided to earn money by giving bus tours. My bus broke down the first night. Concerned but determined, I next decided to sell T-shirts. The morning I went to pick up the shirts from the manufacturer, I found that the building had burned to the ground the night before. It seemed that my hopes had gone up in smoke too.

It was only a few months before the next scheduled temple trip, yet to this point, every effort I had made to raise money had ended in abrupt failure. I left the smoldering rubble and went to find Beny.

“I have nothing,” I told her. “Maybe you shouldn’t marry me.”

“If I were marrying for money, I’d be married already,” she said. “But I’m not marrying for money. I’m marrying you because I love you.”

That was a turning point. We felt that we had passed an important test. As we pushed ahead with faith, doors began opening. I found work making furniture, though the pay wasn’t enough to meet our needs. Then a kind bishop offered to help us with our bus fare. As exciting as his offer was, it didn’t feel right. We were intent on being self-sufficient. But seeing that he truly desired to help, we asked him if he could give Beny a job instead. He did.

After earning enough money to travel to the temple, we married civilly and were at last on our way to Guatemala with 10 other Church members. But our test wasn’t over yet.

Widespread transportation strikes stopped us at the border of Costa Rica. After waiting at the border for two days, our driver decided to turn back. But Beny and I, along with two brothers and one other couple, decided not to give up. After watching our bus turn around and leave us, we walked into Costa Rica. We kept walking, sleeping in roadside shelters, until we reached the Nicaraguan border. From there we managed to take a taxi to the capital city, where we purchased a bus ticket to the Honduran border. Two days—and two more buses—later we finally arrived at the temple. We were dirty and tired, and we had spent far more than we had planned, but we were happy.

The next day, after all our trials and delays, we were finally sealed eternally as husband and wife. Our joy—worth the working, the waiting, and the worrying—was full!

Not everyone getting married in the temple will face such challenges, but for Beny and me (and the others who went to the temple with us), these experiences were a refining process. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life.

If our goal to marry in the temple had been only for worldly love, we wouldn’t have made it. But because we believed in the sealing power of the priesthood restored in our day, we didn’t give up, knowing that our temple marriage—for time and all eternity—was worth whatever sacrifice we had to make.

While I was serving as a bishop, our stake president asked the bishops in our stake to set an example for their ward members by making the sacrifice to be sealed in the temple. At that time, Bolivia was going through a severe economic crisis. Because of hyperinflation, goods would cost one price in the morning and then a higher price in the afternoon.

“How can we afford to go to the temple when we barely have enough to eat?” I asked my wife, Alicia.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “but the Lord’s promise is that He will provide” (see Doctrine and Covenants 118:3).

Despite our financial situation, we both felt an urgency to go to the temple. It was as if the Spirit were telling us, “Hurry, hurry!”

In December 1981, the São Paulo Brazil Temple—nearly 2,000 miles (3,220 km) away—was the only temple in South America. To pay for the weeklong trip, I took out a loan of $1,000. That was a lot of money, but we knew that the sacrifice would be worth it.

After a long bus ride to the border of Brazil, we caught a train to São Paulo. The train had no open seats, so we had to sit in an aisle with our two small children. We ran low on food, but strangers shared with us. When we reached São Paulo, our little son almost got lost on the metro.

After these and other challenges, we finally reached the metro station near the temple. As we exited, we could see in the distance the statue of the angel Moroni on the temple. We fell to our knees and thanked Heavenly Father. When we arrived a few minutes later, the temple president lovingly greeted us.

Early the next day we received our ordinances and were sealed as a couple and family. That evening, unbeknownst to us beforehand, the temple closed for the rest of the year for maintenance.

Had we waited to go to the temple, our trip would have cost more than we borrowed. Had we arrived the following week, the temple would have been closed. We are grateful that the Lord inspired us to hurry to the temple.

Elder Lawrence described a friend who decided to pray for the gift of charity. He related her experience: “She wrote: ‘I have been praying specifically for an increase of charity for several months. … Gradually my perception of others has changed. … I have begun to not just love the people around me but to enjoy them. Before, I may have kept my distance, but now I am genuinely interested in everyone.’”2

That trust has blessed my life and the lives of my family. Years ago I heard President Ezra Taft Benson speak in a conference like this. He counseled us to do all we could to get out of debt and stay out. He mentioned mortgages on houses. He said that it might not be possible, but it would be best if we could pay off all our mortgage debt.9
I turned to my wife after the meeting and asked, “Do you think there is any way we could do that?” At first we couldn’t. And then by evening I thought of a property we had acquired in another state. For years we had tried to sell it without success.
But because we trusted God and a few words from the midst of His servant’s message, we placed a phone call Monday morning to the man in San Francisco who had our property listed to sell. I had called him a few weeks before, and he had said then, “We haven’t had anyone show interest in your property for years.”
But on the Monday after conference, I heard an answer that to this day strengthens my trust in God and His servants.
The man on the phone said, “I am surprised by your call. A man came in today inquiring whether he could buy your property.” In amazement I asked, “How much did he offer to pay?” It was a few dollars more than the amount of our mortgage.
A person might say that was only a coincidence. But our mortgage was paid off. And our family still listens for any word in a prophet’s message that might be sent to tell what we should do to find the security and peace God wants for us.