Gospel Story Finder

The young men working on the nature trail learned important design principles as they tried to clear away some of the undergrowth and trees so a person walking on the trail could see other foliage. At first, when the nature trail crew looked at the solid wall of green before them, they came back to Brother Kamauoha and told him they did not know what to cut and what to leave.
“I told them this was their responsibility and I wasn’t doing their thinking for them. Then I asked them, ‘When you are in your fale (Samoan house) and the paule (woven blinds) are down, what do you do when you want to see out?’ And they said, ‘We move the paule aside so we can see.’ After learning this principle, they cut away some of the trees and undergrowth and created beautiful natural windows where students could come and study the plant life or just walk and think.”

Sister Lusanne Libretto, a member of the group traveling to Brazil, had an unforgettable experience at the temple. She recalls, “This was my most profound moment since I joined the Church.”
Early in the morning on September 13, 2024, the group attended the temple to do baptisms for their ancestors. Lusanne was given five names to be baptized for. She sat quietly in the chapel, waiting for her husband to change his clothes while the rest of the group entered the baptistry. As she waited, she felt strangely restless, as if she was being urged to go inside and start the baptisms immediately. She said, “I literally felt that I was being pushed forward. I passed the entire group, and to the surprise of my fellow brothers and sisters, I was helped first. They wondered why I was in such a rush to pass them to the first row, and rightly so. Once I started the baptisms, the first name I was given was that of Eva Doorson [Imro Wehl’s great-aunt].”
Later that evening, when Lusanne returned for another ordinance session, she received Eva Doorson’s name again. She was amazed and felt a strong bond with the deceased woman as if Eva had chosen Lusanne to help her.
At the end of another ordinance session, Lusanne said, “I was tired, but a temple worker handed me one more name to complete in addition to the five I had already done. To my surprise, it was Eva Doorson again. With tears in my eyes, I knew with certainty that she wanted and had chosen me to do all her work at the temple. I never asked for her name, but I kept getting it pressed into my hands. Even though I was exhausted, I felt grateful that I had listened to the gentle promptings of the Spirit.”

Sister Richardson continued: “Some time ago the film Mormons, Fact and Fantasy was being shown in one of the rooms at the public library in Nottingham. My husband was going there straight from work, and I decided that I ought to be there, too, so I got on the bus and went there with our three children.
“About a half hour before the film was due for a showing, someone’s voice called out, ‘Could we have volunteers to go out into the street and invite people in and hand out leaflets?’ I thought, ‘Yes, that’s what I should be doing. That’s what I had to come for.’ Then something inside of me said, ‘You don’t really want to, though, do you? You’re afraid of talking to all those strangers.’ I thought, ‘That’s right, I am!’
“So I just stood there with a battle going on within me, and then I looked down. Three upturned faces were looking into mine. They belonged to the three little people who are very important to me. I thought, ‘What kind of a mother would I be if I didn’t show our children my faith by my works?’ We have spent a lot of time teaching our children the gospel, and I knew that I could ruin much of that teaching if I didn’t practice what I preached. I knew what I had to do.
“We took some leaflets. Our eldest little girl put on a sandwich board advertising the film, and we went down into the street below. I didn’t know if any of the people we invited actually came to see the film, but I was happy that we were doing our part, and that I had the opportunity of showing our little ones that sharing the gospel is not just something we talk about occasionally in family home evening.”

Repeating the words of an Apostle, David said, “Fear is a chief weapon of Satan in making mankind unhappy.”1
David Ikegami, a deacon from Oahu, Hawaii, had an assignment to speak during a Sunday mission conference. Seven months ago he had lived through one of the worst Christmases ever—not just for his family, but for the whole country. He chose to speak out against fear.
He would know a thing or two about fear. The year was 1942. Months earlier, the scenic island where David’s family lived had been turned upside down with destruction as Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. The day after that devastating attack, the United States entered World War II.
Fear for the future still covered the land like a blanket. To make matters more difficult, Japanese-Americans, such as the Ikegami family, lived with serious racial prejudice after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Life was neither simple nor easy for this young man.
Seven months ago he had lived through one of the worst Christmases ever.
So how did he find peace? For one thing, he focused on serving. He joined a group who helped to build trails and clear thorny kiawe trees from trails for military camps. Meanwhile, his family joined fundraising efforts to help the U.S. soldiers. These funds were used for everything from buying books to movie screens and projectors to help raise morale.
David then said, again quoting the same Apostle, Elder John A Widtsoe, “There is safety wherever the people of the Lord live so worthily as to claim the sacred title of citizens of the Zion of our Lord.”2
David found peace by focusing on Jesus Christ.3

Greg hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. We all hushed up as if we were waiting for an important news bulletin. “We’re going down the block to do some painting.”
“Huh?” I stared at him. “You mean work?”
“Mark, don’t be so dumb.” He held up a can of black spray paint. “I ‘found’ it in the hardware store.”
We laughed. That meant that Greg had stolen the paint. I felt kind of funny in the stomach. I really didn’t like the idea. But I was new in the neighborhood. If I said anything, the other guys wouldn’t be my friends.
Greg led us to a house with a wooden fence around the backyard. He handed the paint to Sam.
“Wait a minute,” I blurted out.
Greg cuffed me on the side of the head. “Are you chicken?”
I snorted. “Me? Of course not.”
When Greg wasn’t looking, I rubbed my head where he had hit me. It hurt. He’s a year older than I am, and a lot bigger.
After Sam finished painting words on the fence, Greg and a couple of other kids took their turns. Then someone handed the can to me. I took a deep breath and pushed the button on the can. Black paint sprayed out.
“Hey!” The shout came from an unseen person.
We took off running. Then I tripped. I jumped up, but someone grabbed my arm. My heart rate speeded up so much that I thought I would either faint or get sick all over my new sneakers.
I peeked up at a gray-haired man wearing glasses. “What were you doing?” he asked, not loosening his grip any.
“I don’t know,” I said, though it sounded silly.
“Who gave you the right to vandalize my property?”
“Uh, I’m sorry. Are you going to call the police?” I asked. My voice shook like I was going to cry.
“I believe I’d rather keep this between me and your parents.”
I took a shaky breath, then told him my name and phone number. But I would rather have gone to jail than have my parents know what I had done.
Dad came over right away. He looked as though he couldn’t decide whether he was more hurt or more angry at what I had done. I kind of shrunk down inside my shirt.
“Mark will pay for all damages, Mr. Parker,” Dad said.
I gulped hard. My allowance doesn’t cover half the stuff I want to buy. I figured that it would take a big part of my childhood years to pay for repainting that fence.
“I believe I have a better idea,” Mr. Parker said. “I had planned to repaint it, anyway. How about if I buy the paint and Mark does the painting?”
I sagged with relief. I wasn’t looking forward to the work, but painting the fence was a lot better than paying for damages.
I wouldn’t have been so happy if I’d known what else was in store for me at home—Mom and Dad said I couldn’t go anywhere with my friends for six weeks!
“Hurting others is against the word of God,” Mr. Parker said when I went over to his place. He handed me a brush.
I shrugged. “I know.”
“You sure didn’t act like it when you worked my fence over.”
I turned away and carefully drew the brush out of the paint can. I took my time making my first brush stroke nice and neat. I figured that if Mr. Parker saw that I could do a good job all by myself, he would leave me alone.
Mr. Parker didn’t take the hint. In fact, he got a brush of his own and started painting too.
My hand shook. I dribbled paint onto my pants leg.
“Careful,” Mr. Parker said.
“I can’t help it—you make me nervous!” I blurted. I dug the toe of my sneaker into the ground.
“I do? Now, why is that?”
“You keep watching me as if I’m bad or something.”
“Is that so? Well, I know you’re not bad, or you wouldn’t be here now.”
“I never did anything like that before. But Greg said …” I stopped and looked away quickly. I hadn’t meant to mention anyone else.
Mr. Parker chuckled softly. “Greg must be one of the other young fellows I saw running away that day.”
“You saw them?”
“I sure did.”
“You didn’t even ask me to tell you who they were.”
“I was a boy once myself.” Mr. Parker winked at me.
I felt a knot ease out of my shoulders. Mr. Parker was turning out to be a lot nicer than I’d figured.
We started painting again. After a while he said, “Do you ever go to church?”
“We used to.”
“I’m going to ask your folks to come with me on Sunday.”
“They’re pretty busy.”
“We’ll let them decide. I think your parents will welcome the chance for you to meet the right kind of friends.”
My face turned warm. I leaned over and concentrated on my painting. “I have friends,” I mumbled.
“Sure you do, son.”
Mr. Parker didn’t say anything else. I expected him to start preaching and tell me how bad my friends were—how they were not only a bad influence, but how they ran off and left me. I was all set to get mad and tell him my friends were great.
But all he did was start whistling. I recognized the tune—it was a hymn.
My parents were eager to take Mr. Parker up on his church offer. I told myself that it didn’t matter—at least I had somewhere else to go for the next six weeks. I couldn’t wait until my grounding was over and I could see Greg and the other boys again.
The only thing was, I got busy with the kids from Primary. By the time the six weeks were up, I was involved in a ward project to get books for a shelter for the homeless. After that, we Blazers all got parts in a play that we were going to put on at the care center.
The next time I saw Greg, he was leading his gang past the park. He stopped suddenly, and everyone piled into the back of him. They reminded me of robots playing follow the leader.
“Mark, I haven’t seen you around.”
“I … uh … I’ve been busy.” I felt a familiar shrinking in my stomach. Funny, I’d never realized it before, but I always felt that way around Greg.
“Yeah, I heard you were busy painting old man Parker’s fence.”
Greg and the robots cracked up. I clenched my fists.
“Come on—we’re doing something fun.” Greg held up a cloth sack.
I knew that they planned to steal oranges from Mr. McKellar’s grove. Six weeks ago I would have stumbled over my own feet rushing to join them. Now all I felt was sorry for them.
“No, thanks.” I turned and walked away. I had new friends now. My kind of friends. The shrinking in my stomach disappeared. It didn’t come back.

In just a few moments, we will listen to our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, a man of undaunted faith in Jesus Christ, a man of hope and peace, loved by God but not spared from the wounds of the soul.
In 1995 his daughter Emily, while expecting a child, was diagnosed with cancer. There were days of hope and happiness as her healthy baby was delivered. But the cancer returned, and their beloved Emily would pass from this life just two weeks after her 37th birthday, leaving her loving husband and five young children.
In general conference, shortly after her passing, President Nelson confided: “My tears of sorrow have flowed along with wishes that I could have done more for our daughter. … If I had the power of resurrection, I would have been tempted to bring [her] back. … [But] Jesus Christ holds those keys and will use them for Emily … and for all people in the Lord’s own time.”28

Yes, you may have many humorous experiences on your mission, but those experiences which will be the most joyful and rewarding to you, and which will be with you throughout eternity, will be the times when the Spirit will work through you to touch the lives of others, such as Sister Ciardo from Sardinia, Italy, who joined the Church and came to Scotland on a mission. As Sister Ciardo left for her mission, her mother would hardly speak to her and her father said she would never be welcome back home again. But the faith of this young lady brought forth a miracle.
Approximately a year after Sister Ciardo had been on her mission, she came to see me one day with tears running down her face. She had a letter in hand from her mother. I, too, had tears come to my eyes as I read the letter telling her daughter she had been baptized and that her father was attending church and was going to listen to the discussions.
I think of a Tony Ridden and a Tracy McFall from Scotland who were baptized a couple of years ago, coming from backgrounds that you would never have thought this possible. Yet both stood and spoke just a few months ago at their own missionary farewells with tears in their eyes, expressing love and gratitude for the elders who brought the gospel into their lives.
Just how important is a Sister Ciardo, a Tony Ridden, a Tracy McFall, and many others just like them? The Lord gives us the answer to that question: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God;
“For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all men, that all men might repent and come unto him. …
“Wherefore, you are called to cry repentance unto this people.
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:10–11, 14–15.)
O youth of noble birthright, I bear witness to you this night that if you will commit, prepare, and with a willing heart go forth to serve Jesus Christ and preach his gospel, great will be your blessings and reward. Listen to the words of our Savior:
“Ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you.” (D&C 62:3.)
“Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood.” (1 Pet. 2:9.)
Stay on the Lord’s side and you will find eternal joy and fulfillment. I bear my witness to you that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. This is His church. President Ezra Taft Benson is our living prophet, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Beehives from the Vacaville Third Ward, Vacaville California Stake, decided to do something about the environment in their area, and started their own ward recycling program, calling it “BEE-A-RECYCLER.”
The Beehives sent a sign-up sheet around the ward for those who wanted to participate, and twice a month the girls went to those homes, picking up the plastic, newspapers, glass, and aluminum that were set out for them. They then placed thank-you notes on each door. Everyone who participated felt they were making a real contribution toward helping the environment.

As I did so, I reflected on an experience at the time of the prededication showing of the London Temple in 1958.

Those who inspected the building were asked to defer any questions until they had completed the tour. In the evenings I joined the missionaries in talking with those who had questions. As a young couple came down the front steps of the temple, I inquired whether I could help them in any way. The young woman spoke up and said, “Yes. What about this ‘marriage for eternity’ to which reference was made in one of the rooms?” We sat on a bench under the ancient oak that stood near the gate. The wedding band on her finger indicated that they were married, and the manner in which she gripped her husband’s hand evidenced their affection one for another.
“Now to your question,” I said. “I suppose you were married by the vicar.”
“Yes,” she responded, “just three months ago.”
“Did you realize that when the vicar pronounced your marriage he also decreed your separation?”
“What do you mean?” she quickly retorted.
“You believe that life is eternal, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she replied.
I continued, “Can you conceive of eternal life without eternal love? Can either of you envision eternal happiness without the companionship of one another?”
“Of course not,” came the ready response.
“But what did the vicar say when he pronounced your marriage? If I remember the language correctly, he said, among other things, ‘in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, till death do ye part.’ He went as far as he felt his authority would permit him and that was till death separates you. In fact, I think that if you were to question him, he would emphatically deny the existence of marriage and family beyond the grave.”
“But,” I continued, “the Father of us all, who loves his children and wants the best for them, has provided for a continuation, under proper circumstances, of this most sacred and ennobling of all human relationships, the relationships of marriage and family.
“In that great and moving conversation between the Savior and his apostles, wherein Peter declared, ‘Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,’ and the Lord responded, ‘Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.’ The Lord then went on to say to Peter and his associates, ‘And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.’ (Matt. 16:13–19.)
“In that marvelous bestowal of authority the Lord gave to his apostles the keys of the holy priesthood, whose power reaches beyond life and death into eternity. This same authority has been restored to the earth by those same apostles who held it anciently, even Peter, James, and John.” I continued by saying that following the dedication of the temple on the following Sunday, those same keys of the holy priesthood would be exercised in behalf of the men and women who come into this sacred house to solemnize their marriage. They will be joined in a union which death cannot dissolve and time cannot destroy.
Such was my testimony to this young couple in England. Such it is to you today, my dear young friends, and such it is to all the world. Our Father in heaven, who loves his children, desires for them that which will bring them happiness now and in the eternities to come, and there is no greater happiness than is found in the most meaningful of all human relationships—the companionships of husband and wife and parents and children.

Two years into my actuarial and financial mathematics degree, I had a strong prompting to go on a mission. I chose to serve, even though I would potentially forfeit certain college credits that had to be taken consecutively.
A short while later, as I read my mission call to the Utah Salt Lake City Central Mission, the moment felt surreal. I didn’t know anybody who had served in Salt Lake City. I thought maybe I had opened the wrong mission call. When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt that everything I knew had been taken away. I found myself on a bicycle in the snow without any idea of how to be a missionary. With its different culture and climate, Salt Lake City felt as far away from South Africa as I could have traveled.
In my first area, my companion and I visited a member named Chris Ruppel for dinner. He asked if either of us knew music. My companion mentioned that I played piano and sang, so I sang a song for the family. Then something special happened. Brother Ruppel looked at me and said, “Elder Vizzini, if you keep singing like that, you will be a successful missionary.” I thought that was sweet of him but didn’t think much of it.
A few months later, with Brother Ruppel, I helped organize a musical missionary fireside. In every area I served thereafter, we used this same fireside structure. Many people participated with us, from stake members to well-known local musicians and members of other faiths. We taught about the Savior through music to people who otherwise would not have wanted to sit through a lesson. I learned that music could touch both the poor and the wealthy, the educated and the uneducated.
My mission taught me that I can do hard things. As I served in an area so far away and so different from my home, I learned that everybody is a child of God. I have seen miracles in people’s lives on the other side of the world in Utah, and I have seen them here in South Africa. I know that if we just have faith, miracles can happen in each of our lives (see Mormon 9:15–21).

Another time—it was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, about 1943—I went to priesthood meeting. There was a large framed board. It had the pictures of all the young men serving in the military. Priests who had been at the sacrament table a few months earlier were now in the war. Each week it would be updated. Those who were killed in action had a gold star by their picture; those who had been wounded, a red star; and those missing in action, a white star. Every week, as a 12-year-old deacon, I checked to see who had been killed or wounded.

In quorum meeting that morning, the member of the bishopric said, “This Thursday is Thanksgiving. We ought to all have family prayer in our homes.” Then he said, “Let’s put on the blackboard the things we are grateful for.” We did, and he said, “Include these things in your Thanksgiving prayer.” I got sick to my stomach, as we never had a prayer or blessing.

That night at 6:30 we went to sacrament meeting. At the end of the meeting, the bishop stood up and was very tender. He told about the young men from our ward who had been killed and wounded. He talked about our liberty, our freedom, our flag, and this great country, and our blessings. Then he said, “I’d hope every single family would kneel and have family prayer on Thanksgiving Day and thank God for His blessings.”

My heart ached. I thought, “How can we have family prayer?” I wanted to be obedient. I hardly slept all Sunday night. I wanted to have a prayer for Thanksgiving. I even thought I would say it if someone asked me, but I was too shy to volunteer. I worried all day Monday, and all day Tuesday, and Wednesday at school.

Dad did not come home on Wednesday until early in the morning. Thursday we all got up. There were five boys and two sisters. We skipped breakfast so we would have a real appetite for Thanksgiving dinner. To work up an appetite, we went to a nearby field and dug a hole six feet deep and six feet wide. We made a trench to it as a hideout. I remember with every shovelful of dirt, I thought, “Please, Heavenly Father, let us have a prayer.”

Finally at 2:30, my mother called us to come and eat. We cleaned up and sat at the table. Somehow Mom had managed to have a turkey with all the trimmings. She put all the food on the table, including the turkey. I thought my heart would burst. Time was running out. I looked at my father, then my mother. I thought, “Please, now, someone, anyone, please can’t we have a prayer.” I was almost panicky; then all of a sudden everyone started to eat. I had worked hard all morning and afternoon to work up an appetite, but I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to pray more than anything else in this world, and it was too late.

In Alaska, LDS teenagers who live in the towns of Wasilla, Palmer, and Eagle River look at the Anchorage Alaska Temple and know that something of theirs is safe inside. They were fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time to make a promise, sign their names to it, then have those pledges sealed inside the cornerstone of the temple at the dedication.
The promise they signed was quite short. It said simply: “As I prepare for marriage and a mission, I will live the standards of worthiness for entrance into the house of the Lord.” It was a promise that many of them were willing to make, but now that the promise is literally encased in stone in the temple and sealed with mortar, these young people have taken it very seriously.
“This was a goal I had previously made,” says Katie Green of the Eagle River Second Ward, “but had never put on paper. When I was given the opportunity to do so, I jumped at it. I didn’t just sign it; I pondered it. To me a promise is a promise and cannot be broken, especially with our Father in Heaven. Living the standards of worthiness doesn’t mean just not crossing the line. It means that we must live as far away from that line as possible.”

We sat in her living room—she in her nineties, I in my thirties. Her health and the snowy weather wouldn’t allow her to come to the bishop’s office for tithing settlement, so I had stopped by her home instead.
She handed me two pieces of paper. One was her own handwritten record of the contributions she had made to the Church during the year; the other was a computer printout listing the same information.
“As you can see,” she said, “my records perfectly match the ward clerk’s.” I couldn’t help thinking that if there had been a discrepancy, the error wouldn’t have been hers.
Then I asked the question bishops are supposed to ask in these situations: “Sister, is this a full tithing for the year?”
She looked at me with incredulity in her eyes. There was a brief pause. And then, with mock indignation, she chastised:
“Bishop, that’s the most ridiculous question I have ever heard!”
In her case, I couldn’t help but agree. We laughed together as I gave her a hug. I had known the answer before asking the question. But I also knew she was glad for the opportunity to give a verbal accounting of her faithfulness.

Earlier this year I was greatly moved as I participated in a meeting in Lagos, Nigeria, in a building with spare concrete walls and a heavy, flat tin roof. Relief Society leaders with their priesthood advisers had been counseling together there for more than two hours. We had worked together to better understand the ways that could be employed to give strength to their important callings, to build their faith, and to help conquer the tribulation that surrounded them in that sprawling city.
As we finished the closing hymn and said an amen to a heartfelt prayer, a thunderous roar filled the room. It was rain. The deluge on the tin roof made any parting conversation impossible. Water was already coursing through the streets and splashing immediately against the door. Our meetings had been scheduled in the afternoon so that most could be home by dark. Now, as we sat waiting and wordless because of the din, it was obvious they not only faced the heightened dangers of darkness, but they would be thoroughly drenched as they returned to their homes. I thought of Alma as he waded through tribulation (see Alma 8:14–15), and then I remembered the blessing that came to him. I was struck for the moment with the somewhat similar conditions in Ammonihah for Alma and for our Saints in Lagos, Nigeria. An angel had said to Alma, “Lift up thy head and rejoice, … for thou hast been faithful in keeping the commandments of God from the time which thou receivedst thy first message from him” (Alma 8:15).
There were those in that clattering room who were going forth, as Alma did, to teach and help save others through the power of their faith. When the rain did not yield, they rose, one by one, two or three at a time. We embraced or shook hands solemnly, and they went forth. They were confirmed in their new knowledge that God’s matchless power, His mercy and long-suffering, prevented their being cut off and consigned to endless misery and woe (see Hel. 5:12). They had new courage to face, with hope, their immediate journey and their eternal future. They gave me courage too.

In April 2008 a mixture of excitement, shock, joy, and gratitude quickly spread among Church members in the Gila Valley, Arizona, when President Thomas S. Monson announced plans to build a temple there. The thing that had been longed for, prayed for, predicted, and prophesied was finally going to happen.
Youth of the Church in the area soon learned they would be participating in a cultural celebration that would accompany the temple dedication, and their excitement grew. For months they practiced for the production, titled “The Place Which God for Us Prepared.” Then on May 22, 2010, the day before the temple dedication, they performed.
The New Era was privileged to visit with some of these youth at that time to find out how these experiences affected them. Here are some of the feelings they expressed about the temple and the opportunity to perform for the President of the Church.
Alexandria Alder, 16, Thatcher Arizona Stake: “Our leaders want all of the youth to be participating because they realize that this temple is going to be for our generation.”
Camille Christensen, 15, Thatcher Arizona Stake: “We’re thankful that the temple is here, and we’re just showing everyone how happy we are to have a temple.”
Mariah Mayberry, 17, St. David Arizona Stake: “We’re showing some things about the people the prophet sent to settle this area, who were my ancestors. So in this celebration I get to show what they were all about and what they did.”
Dallin Green, 16, Safford Arizona Stake: “At the end, during ‘Come, Come, Ye Saints,’ the Spirit was so intensely strong; it was unlike anything else. And you know when it’s the Spirit; there’s no doubt in your mind. It’s a peaceful and happy feeling that cannot be mistaken for anything else. We’ll remember this for the rest of our lives.”
Camille: “For the finale I was right in front of the prophet. He was smiling at me, and I was smiling back. I was waving my flag like I was supposed to, and then he said, ‘Give me that flag.’ I thought it was a joke, but then I thought, ‘OK. I’ll give it to you.’ And so he got up and was waving it with the rest of us. It was really fun. I guess he wanted to be a part of it.”
Reese Jarvis, 16, Pima Arizona Stake: “The Spirit was so strong. I was singing as loud as I could. It’s just a really life-changing experience for me. On the last verse of ‘Come, Come, Ye Saints’ I started bawling. I thought, ‘This isn’t fair. I want to be tough.’ But it didn’t happen. I just couldn’t finish the song. You can’t explain the feelings you had.”
Cassie Scott, 16, Safford Arizona Stake: “My parents were married in the temple, so we get to be together as a family for time and all eternity and not just till death. The temple is something that I’ve always been taught about, but I also think that it has a special place in my heart.”
Camille: “My family is the most important thing to me, and because of the blessings of the temple, I can be with them for eternity. My grandpa passed away a few months ago. He was really close to us. It’s been so hard on us, and it still really is. It’s wonderful to know that through the blessings of the temple, I can see him again if I do what’s right and endure to the end. I know that families are forever through the temple. That’s the greatest gift ever.”
Shelby Peck, 14, Safford Arizona Stake: “My family has pictures of the temple in every room in my house—to remind us of our goal. I’ve grown up knowing that’s the only place I want to get married.”
Dallin: “I know that since my parents were married and sealed in the temple, that I’m sealed to them. It’s a great source of happiness to know that as long as each of us lives righteously, we can be an eternal family.”
Allison Taylor, 18, Sierra Vista Arizona Stake: “Since my dad’s in the military, we move a lot. Every time we’ve moved, the first trip we take is always to the nearest temple, and we take pictures with our parents outside the temple. In our home, in each of our bedrooms, there’s a picture of the temple or a picture of Christ so that we remember where we’re trying to get to and that that should be the center of our life.”
Allison: “When selecting a college, I picked one that has a large LDS branch, a singles branch, so that I could possibly find somebody to take me to the temple so that I can start my own eternal family. And when I looked for a university, I tried to look for a university that was close to a temple.”
Alexandria: “In the future I’ll be going to The Gila Valley Arizona Temple someday—that’s where I want to go and get married. That’s my plan. I won’t settle for anything less.”
Dallin: “I know that I’ll be going to the temple before my mission. If we’re ready and worthy to go to the temple, then we’re worthy to go on a mission. So that’s my goal—to aim the highest I can so that I’ll be ready for my mission and whatever life holds for me.”
Reese: “The temple helps my standards stay high so that I can be ready for callings and to return to my Father in Heaven. If I am worthy to go to the temple, then I am worthy to fulfill my callings and to lead the way I should.”
Allison: “At the dedication we got to sit together as a family. As we were sitting there, we could feel each other’s love and how true the gospel is and how true the plan of salvation is and how we could all be there together.”
Dallin: “We are not the only ones who are aware of this and are excited about this, but people in the spirit world there are excited for it, too. And the temple is for them and for us, to bind us to each other for eternity. The Spirit was so strong. And I think it’s important that we write it down in our journals and remember it in as much detail as we can.”
Mariah: “The prophet’s blessing on the youth makes me feel relieved to know that the President of the Church is praying for the youth, because he’s God’s servant, and I think that when he asks Heavenly Father to bless the youth, I’m pretty sure that the youth will be blessed. So it’s a relief to know that I’ve got a lot of support that I can’t even see.”
Shelby: “The blessing that President Monson gave the youth today at the dedication made me feel he cared for the youth and loved us and wanted us to know that he loved us. It just made me feel special.”
Alexandria: “I just feel blessed that I’m a youth at this time. One of the main blessings was that my testimony has been strengthened so much.”
Camille: “My involvement in the temple cultural celebration has helped me realize how important the temple is in my life, and it strengthened my testimony about the prophet. And I learned that we can have fun in our Church.”
Dallin: “The blessings that the Lord has poured out here are unique. Living here has been a really cool experience, and the temple is the greatest blessing we could have.”
Mariah: “I feel that I’ve been blessed in not just spiritual ways, which have been pouring all over me, but I was blessed with friendships that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.”
Cassie: “I’ve felt and heard and learned a lot. It came to my attention how powerful the Spirit is when you are doing what’s right and when the prophet’s around you.”
Reese: “I’ve had trials in my life, but they all just started going away as this celebration started kicking it up. They all straightened out, and I found the strength to get rid of them.”
Shelby: “I learned the importance of the temple and how much we center our religion around the temple. Having the prophet come down for the temple dedication, who is the mouthpiece for Christ, just helped me realize that the prophet is important and that he loves us.”
Allison: “I’ve gained a better understanding of the temple and how temples relate to us. This is part of our whole life. It’s something we need forever.”

I have been a member of this wonderful Church for all of my life, but I took it for granted for the first 14 years.
The summer of my freshman year of high school I realized I wasn’t very happy. I kept wondering what was wrong with me. There was something missing, and I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Then I went to a youth conference, and it changed my life. The feelings of emptiness were finally gone. I was truly happy for the first time that I could remember. I went home and read the Book of Mormon, started praying intently, and cleaned up my life. I have seen a huge change, inside and out. But even though I had a strong testimony going into high school, I still struggled with the different views and activities of my friends.
In the summer before my junior year I got news of an LDS 11th-grader moving into our area. I was ecstatic. She was an answer to prayer. It’s amazing how much we have in common and how well we get along. Together with another senior, we made up the three LDS girls at my high school. With three boys, that made six Latter-day Saints among 950 students. While the school year was stressful for all of us, we were always there to support each other. We stuck together through bad times and great times.
We went together one night to the Washington D.C. Temple Visitors’ Center. That night Katie, Paige, and I took a long walk around the temple. There was such a feeling of peace and love. There, the three of us made a pact with one another to work towards temple marriages and to settle for nothing less. We see the eternal perspective on choosing the right day-by-day. We are striving to gain the highest reward: eternal life. The Lord provided a way for three girls to choose the right, and I have never felt so good inside.

Years ago on Temple Square I heard a boy pour out the anguish of his troubled heart and make a commitment to God. He had been living in a spirit of hatred toward a man who had criminally taken the life of his father. Nearly bereft of his senses with grief, he had been overcome with bitterness.
On that Sabbath morning when others and I heard him, he had been touched by the Spirit of the Lord, and in that hour through the pouring in of that Spirit had flooded out the hostility that had filled his heart. He tearfully declared his determined intent to leave vengeance to the Lord and justice to the law. He would no longer hate the one who had caused the grievous loss. He would forgive and would not for another hour permit the corrosive spirit of vengefulness to fill his heart.
Sometime later, touched with the remembrance of that moving Sabbath morning, I told the story to a group of people in another city. Before I left that small community the next day I had a visit from a man who had heard the message and understood it. Later a letter came from him. He had gone home that night and prayed and prepared himself and had then made a visit to the place of a man in his community who had years before imposed upon the sanctity of his home. There had been animosity and revenge in his heart and threats made. That evening when it was made known that he was at the door, his frightened neighbor appeared with a weapon in his hand. The man quickly explained the reasons for his visit, that he had come to say that he was sorry, that he did not want hatred to continue to consume his life. He offered forgiveness and sought forgiveness and went his way in tears, a free man for the first time in years. He left a former adversary in tears, shaken and repentant.
The next day the same man went to the home of a relative in the town. He said, “I came to ask your forgiveness. I don’t even remember why we have been so long angry, but I have come to tell you that I am sorry and to beg your pardon and to say that I have learned how foolish I have been.” He was invited in to join the family at their table, and was reunited with his kin.
When I heard this story I knew again the importance of qualifying ourselves for the forgiveness of Christ by forgiving.

Some time ago I read the following Associated Press dispatch, which appeared in the newspaper. An elderly man disclosed at the funeral of his brother, with whom he had shared, from early manhood, a small, one-room cabin near Canisteo, New York, that following a quarrel, they had divided the room in half with a chalk line and neither had crossed the line or spoken a word to the other since that day—62 years before. What a powerful and destructive hidden wedge.

Sig Verano had emigrated from his native Colombia, South America, to California, in 1963. Ana, the girl he was growing to love, was temporarily left behind while he began preparing to support himself, and possibly a family, in his new country.
He had received only three years of formal schooling in Colombia and spoke little English. In Los Angeles, California, his first job was making hats at the minimum legal wage, so he studied newspaper advertisements looking for something that would pay more. He spotted a training course for a “machinist.” The pay looked good, and in South America, a maquinista—train engineer—had regular employment, so he enrolled.
Sig did well in the course, but inquired after some time when they were going to get to the “big machines.” Be patient, he was told—that would come after the training. Toward the end of the training, he still had not seen a train engine. One day, he asked a co-worker how much they would travel in their future jobs. “What does travel have to do with this work?” the co-worker replied. After some confusing discussion, Sig finally asked, exasperated, “Will you please tell me exactly what we are learning?”
But Sig’s new job as a machinist was enough to provide the support he and Ana would need. They had continued their courtship by mail and were married by proxy in 1964. She emigrated to the United States in 1965. Edison, the first of their children, was born in 1966, followed by Julie in 1968 and Marbell in 1972.

While I was serving in the Presiding Bishopric many years ago, I was charged with overseeing the design and development group that created what we named FamilySearch. I am careful to say that I “oversaw” its creation rather than saying I “directed” it. Many brilliant people left careers and came to build what the Lord wanted.
The First Presidency had set a goal of reducing the duplication of ordinances. Their major concern was our being unable to know whether a person’s ordinances had already been performed. For years—or what seemed like years—the First Presidency asked me, “When will you have it done?”
With prayer, diligence, and the personal sacrifice of people of great ability, the task was accomplished. It came step by step. The first task was to make FamilySearch user-friendly for those who were not comfortable with computers. More changes came, and I know they will continue to come, for whenever we proceed to resolve one inspired problem, we open the door for further revelation for advancements at least equally important but not yet seen. Even today, FamilySearch is becoming what the Lord needs for part of His Restoration—and not just for avoiding duplication of ordinances.
The Lord let us make improvements to help people gain feelings of familiarity and even love for their ancestors and complete their temple ordinances. Now, as the Lord surely knew would happen, young people are becoming computer mentors to their parents and ward members. All have found great joy in this service.