Gospel Story Finder

Some households, of course, did not have enough girls to do all the spinning and sewing that was necessary for the members of the household, or perhaps the mother was dead, or perhaps she was ill for an extended period. In that event, the custom was to invite a neighbor girl to join the household. Some experienced girls, who were 14, 15, or 16, earned some income by spending time at households—helping with the sewing task. Louisa Chamberlain, who lived in Cedar City in the 1860s, was an example of these. Her mother had fallen in love with another man and left her, an only child, to care for her aged father when she was seven. She fed him, kept him clean, and cheered him when he was downcast—the epitome of the “poor little match girl.” Her father died when she was 13, and from that age, to use her words, she “just lived … wherever I could find work.” A slight, quick-moving girl, she took her spinning wheel with her. When her spinning hours were over, she helped in the kitchen.

Jenny had been having a wonderful time, but now her cousins were going to play hide-and-seek, and they said that she couldn’t play with them.
“You’re too little,” Jason said. “You might get lost.”
“Yeah,” Lee agreed before he threw a ball into the air and Jason caught it. “My dad said that this mountain country is so big that a kid could get lost and might never be found.”
That did sound scary. “But somebody would find me,” Jenny insisted.
“Might not up here,” Lee said. “Nobody lives in this forest except animals.”
Jenny said stoutly, “I’m five years old, and that’s old enough not to get lost.”
But her cousins ran off without her.
Jenny walked to the picnic table and watched her mother and her aunts unpack food while the men started a fire. She heard Jason call, “I’ll be it! Don’t anybody get far from camp.”
Jason began to count. Jenny saw Ryan and Becca and the other cousins running to hide. She thought, I’ll hide too. They won’t know, so I’ll be the last one caught. Then they’ll let me play.
Jenny ran up a slope where tiny wild-flowers blossomed. Wood chips and brown pine needles muffled her footsteps. She saw a big tree to hide behind, but Stacy was already there.
Jenny ran on until she tripped over a rock and went rolling. She was afraid that she had made too much noise, so she listened, but nobody called her. She got up and looked around. I know, she thought. There are bushes in that little gully. I’ll hide over there.
When she reached the gully, Jenny saw the biggest tree that she had ever seen up ahead, so she climbed another slope and ran behind the tree. She leaned against it to catch her breath. Has Jason already called, “Ready or not, you shall be caught!” she wondered.
She waited for what seemed like a long time, but she never heard Jason. Jenny didn’t hear her other cousins, either. Everyone else has been found, she decided. Now I’ll run in and surprise them.
Laughing, Jenny ran toward where she thought the camp was. But she couldn’t see the big tree where Stacy had hidden. She couldn’t see anyone else, either.
Jenny stopped running. Her heart was pounding, partly because she had run so fast and partly because she was becoming frightened. She began to run in another direction. But soon she stopped again. Nothing looked familiar, yet everything looked the same. All the trees, all the bushes, all the green slopes looked just like all the other trees and bushes and slopes.
Jenny took a deep breath. I’m lost, she thought. I’m really lost. She started to cry, then stopped. Maybe her cousins were playing a trick on her because she had joined the game without their permission. They were probably hiding right now, watching her. They must be waiting for her to cry. Then they would all jump out and run in a circle around her.
But soon Jenny knew that her cousins weren’t hiding. She knew that she could not find the camp. She didn’t know which way to go. There were so many trees in the forest, and the forest was so very quiet!
Jenny started to cry again. She ran very fast. Twice she stumbled and fell. When she tripped again, Jenny didn’t get up. She turned over to lie on her back. She looked up.
Tops of towering spruce trees were far, far above her. The sky was a deep blue. Fluffy white clouds looked so close that Jenny thought that maybe they would drift right down to touch her. Then something soft did touch Jenny’s hand.
Slowly she turned her head. A wee brown chipmunk watched her, its black eyes like bright, tiny beads. As Jenny watched, the chipmunk skittered right up her arm. She hardly felt its little feet.
Jenny stayed very still. She thought, I’m not alone. There are friends in the forest. And my very special Friend is here.
How could she have forgotten that Heavenly Father would watch over her? She folded her arms, and the wee chipmunk ran away so fast that she saw only its bushy tail.
Jenny closed her eyes. She asked her Heavenly Father to please keep her safe until her daddy could find her.
Jenny started to stand up; then she stopped and listened. A voice seemed to come from somewhere, maybe from inside her head. She shut her eyes. What was she supposed to remember? Then it came to her. Daddy had given a lesson in family home evening about what children should do when they are lost.
“If you ever get lost,” he had told Jenny and her brothers, “don’t get so frightened that you just run and run. You would probably just get more lost than ever. Instead, stand very still. Look all around you. Find a tree that you think looks like the friendliest tree in the forest. Go to that tree and hug it. Stay right there. Hug your friendly tree and wait.”
Now Jenny looked around. Finally she saw a tree that looked about as big around as her father, but much taller. She ran to it. Her arms would not reach all the way around, but she put her cheek against the tree’s rough bark and hugged it as tightly as she could. “Heavenly Father,” she whispered, “help Daddy find me by my tree before it gets dark.”
Then Jenny began to call. “Daddy, I’m here!” She waited. Then she called again.
The sun went down, and Jenny began to shiver with cold. She was afraid of the dark too. She wanted to cry, but she hugged her tree instead. The tree stood straight and still as if to keep her safe. Jenny called again. “Daddy! I’m over here!” She waited a few moments and called again. And again.
Suddenly Jenny stood straighter. Had she heard something? Was that her father’s voice calling from far away?
“Jenny? Can you hear me? Jenny, where are you?”
“Over here, Daddy!” Jenny called as loudly as she could. “Over here, by my tree!”
A few moments later her father came running. He picked Jenny up and held her very tightly. Jenny cried, then laughed. Then Jenny hugged her father even more tightly than she had hugged her tree.

Recently, I had surgery to remove my tonsils. What I remember most about the experience is the blessing that my dad and another worthy priesthood holder gave me in the hospital before my surgery. Before the blessing I was scared, but after the blessing I was brave and my fear went away. I have faith in Heavenly Father and know He uses priesthood blessings to encourage, heal, and strengthen His children.

My wife likes to tell the story of a friend of hers who, when she was a little girl, was left an orphan. She scarcely knew her mother. As she grew, she wondered about her mother: what kind of a girl, what kind of a woman was she?

One day she came across her mother’s old report card. The teacher had noted on that card, “This student is excellent in every way.”

When she read that, her entire life changed. She recognized that her mother was a woman of excellence. Her whole attitude changed. She took on the aura of excellence herself and became a remarkable woman in her own right. She married a man who is recognized in many communities, and their children have distinguished themselves for their excellence.

President David O. McKay told of a meeting of the Council of the Twelve Apostles where a question of grave importance was discussed. He and the other Apostles felt strongly about a certain course of action that should be taken, and they were prepared to share their feelings in a meeting with the First Presidency. To their surprise, President Joseph F. Smith did not ask for their opinion in the matter, as was his custom. Rather, “he arose and said, ‘This is what the Lord wants.’

“While it was not wholly in harmony with what he had decided,” President McKay wrote, “the President of the Twelve … was the first on his feet to say, ‘Brethren, I move that that becomes the opinion and judgment of this Council.’

“‘Second the motion,’ said another, and it was unanimous. Six months did not pass before the wisdom of that leader was demonstrated” (Gospel Ideals [Salt Lake City: Improvement Era, 1953], p. 264).

My family was very poor while I was growing up, and we moved so often that I never felt like I belonged anywhere. Even though we faced a lot of hard times, we were rarely sad, but we were often hungry. I remember one day that was particularly rough at home. There was no food and my parents were arguing, so I left the house.
I went downtown to the local mall to try to entertain myself. I immediately went to one of my favorite stores, a candy shop with barrels of taffy and other goodies. My eyes caught on a tree made from breadsticks which were twisted, braided, glazed, and cooked to that perfectly baked, tan color.
My stomach growled as I realized that even though I was hungry and the delicious bread was right in front of me, I would never have it. I wanted to steal the bread; hunger and desperation were the obvious reasons, but I also felt fed up with not having a fair chance in life. I felt like no one cared about me, so I wanted to steal from society to let it know that it had failed me.
I tried to decide how I could steal the bread. I was 20 steps away … 15 steps away … 5 steps away. The decision was coming up. I was either going to take it or not.
But then I had a sudden, fleeting thought to ask God for help with my problems. I was frustrated, because I knew that God had seen me hungry, lonely, and tired before. Why was this situation any different?
“Things won’t change,” I thought. “God won’t answer me. Why would He help me now when He never has before?”
All I wanted was to satisfy my hunger with that bread. After all, it was only bread; what would it really cost the store? Why is it a big deal?
Then it hit me. I would be the one paying the cost of my anger and regret. As I passed the bread, I brushed it with my shoulder. I decided I would try one last time to do things God’s way.
I walked over to the warm food court, one of my favorite areas of the mall, and sat down at a long table. I had done the right thing, but I was still hungry. And I was in the same spot as before. I sat alone at the table and felt the heavy silence for at least an hour.
As I was sitting, lost in thought, I heard footsteps coming from behind me. Someone came up behind me and put a big plate with a double burger and fries in front of me. He patted me on the shoulder and walked away without saying a word.
I turned around and realized that it had been one of the restaurant workers. He silently returned to his job and never looked back at me. He didn’t want to be acknowledged, but I recognized him as a boy named Tim from school.
I was stunned as I looked down at my double burger. This was not just bread. It was a full meal.
Earlier, it seemed so much easier to just believe that there is no God and to take the bread. But now there was no denying that God knew me and my trials. Before I ate, I made sure to spend time thanking God for the food and for Tim.
I learned a lot about brotherly love that day, and I wanted to help others in the same way Tim helped me. I know that God was aware of me. He inspired Tim to share food with me to fill my physical hunger. And He answered my prayers and helped me feel His love so I could be spiritually filled as well.

Kristen paced back and forth across the room. In the past fifteen minutes she had tried on five different tops and three pairs of shorts. Still, she couldn’t decide what to wear. Today everything had to be just right. She wanted to make sure that nothing, even her clothes, would cause her to lose one of the races.
“Kristen!” her mom shouted. “If you don’t hurry, we’re going to miss the ward party.”
“I’ll be right down,” Kristen called. Quickly she put on her most comfortable outfit, then reached into the closet and grabbed her running shoes.
“Mom,” said Kristen as she entered the kitchen, “what do athletes usually eat just before a big race?”
“Honey, to tell you the truth, I don’t really know. Why do you ask?”
“You know that Brother Reda always has the races right after everyone eats.”
“That’s true.” Kristen’s mom laughed. “But I don’t think that you need to worry about it. You always do well in races. Try to calm down, and let’s just go and have a good time.” “Calm down!” declared Kristen. “How can I? Anthony Nelson will be there bragging about how great he is. He thinks that he’s better than everyone.”
“Well, if we don’t hurry, he won’t have any competition at all.”
When Kristen arrived at the picnic, Anthony was the first to greet her. “You should see the prizes Brother Reda has in the trunk of his car,” he said. “I saw them when he was getting out some folding chairs.”
“And I suppose you think that you’ll be going home with one of those prizes,” teased Kristen.
“One!” Anthony exclaimed. “I just hope that someone will help me carry all the prizes that I win to the car.”
After Kristen had finished drinking her lemonade, she heard Brother Reda announce, “We’re going to start the races! The first one will be a straight run from this starting line to that streamer stretched between those two trees over there. This race is for all ten-to-twelve-year-olds.”
“That’s us,” called Anthony. “Come on, Kristen. I wouldn’t want you to miss this. You’re the one I want to beat.”
Kristen was too nervous to say anything. She glanced around to see who else was running and noticed Matt Powers sitting against a tree. He looked sad as he watched the other kids line up for the race. Kristen remembered how bad she had felt last summer when Matt was in a car accident and lost his left leg. It had taken him a long time to learn how to walk with his artificial leg.
“Everyone get lined up,” ordered Brother Reda. “On your mark, get set, GO!”
Kristen started slowly, and Anthony pulled out in front of her. But she quickly picked up speed as she concentrated on the finish line. The next thing she knew, she was breaking through the streamer. She had won!
“You’re faster than I thought,” Anthony said as he tried to catch his breath. “Congratulations, but watch out! I’m going to beat you in the next race.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Kristen said with a smile, a little surprised at how nice he was being. I wonder if I could handle losing that well.
A few races for the younger children were run next. However, Kristen was too busy looking for a partner for the three-legged race to watch them.
Suddenly Anthony ran up to her. “I have my partner for the three-legged race,” he gloated. “I bet no one will beat Joshua Ellis and me!” Kristen searched the crowd around her, looking for a partner. Her eyes stopped on Matt Powers, who was still sitting on the sidelines.
I must be crazy to even consider him, Kristen thought as she approached Matt. “Hey, Matt, do you want to be in the three-legged race? I need a partner.”
“Me?” asked Matt. He looked puzzled. “Is that a joke?”
“Of course not. I know that we can do it if you’re willing to give it a try,” said Kristen.
“I’m willing if you’re willing.” Matt carefully got up and hurried over to her. He had been rather quiet lately, but now he seemed as lively as he had been before the accident. Kristen tied their inside legs together, and they hobbled up to the starting line.
When everyone was ready, Brother Reda yelled, “Go!”
Kristen and Matt held on tightly to each other as they lumbered down the field. She was surprised at how well Matt could run. At the halfway point, Anthony and Joshua were side-by-side with Kristen and Matt. Then Matt lost his balance, and the two toppled over. “Hurry and get up. We might still be able to make it!” urged Matt as he pulled Kristen to her feet.
A few moments later they fell again. By this time, more teams were catching up and beginning to pass them; Kristen tugged at Matt. “Come on! We may not be first, but let’s not be last!”
As they neared the finish, Kristen could hear Anthony cheering them on. He and Joshua had already finished—first, of course. Kristen and Matt fell forward just as they crossed the finish line. They glanced at each other. Dirt covered both their faces. They started laughing, and soon everyone was laughing with them.
Kristen smiled at Anthony. “It’s my turn to congratulate you,” she said. Then she turned to Matt and winked. Losing’s not that bad, she thought. In fact, it can be a lot of fun.

The author is from Brazil.
The missionaries held up a photo. “What do you see?” they asked.
“A happy family,” I answered.
“Are all families happy?”
I shook my head no. “You’ve seen my family,” I explained.
I was a 16-year-old living in Brazil, where I had lived all my life. The missionaries had been teaching me for several weeks, but nobody else in my family wanted to listen. During that time, the missionaries had often seen my family fight and argue. My family and the grinning family in the photo had nothing in common.
One of the elders said, “Well, maybe your current family isn’t this way. But you can build your future family differently.”
When we ended the visit, they asked me again to pray about what we’d been studying. As always, I didn’t exactly promise to do so. I enjoyed how I felt when the missionaries visited, and the gospel made sense to me. But I was afraid of the answer I might receive. If the gospel was true, I would have to make a lot of changes.
After the elders left, I couldn’t stop thinking about happy families. Ours wasn’t even close. My dad wasn’t in my life. My relationship with my mom wasn’t great. Grandma was the one who took care of us, but none of us behaved like a family the way the missionaries taught. None of us expressed love to each other or even spent much time together.
All my life I promised myself I would be a good dad someday. I would be the parent I never had. Yet as the missionaries taught me, I started realizing that I was doing the same things my parents did at my age. I stayed out late, did whatever I wanted, and lived like a rebel. Without meaning to, I was repeating the same story.
It was time to ask God.
When I finally prayed, I received
the answer I had expected all along. The Church is true! Now it was time to make a choice.
My grandmother had to give permission before I could be baptized. She was against it, but I persisted.
“Grandma, which Leonardo do you prefer?” I asked. “The one who was out drinking and smoking and coming home late? Or do you prefer who I am now? These changes are because of the gospel.”
Grandma finally agreed, and I was baptized and confirmed. From that moment, something interesting began to happen in my family—something I didn’t realize fully until a few years later.
Right before I left for my mission to southern Brazil, Grandma attended stake conference with me. Afterward we held a small testimony meeting with family and friends. To my surprise, Grandma wanted to say something.
“Ever since Leonardo joined your church, my family started becoming a real family,” she said. She then listed ways our entire family had grown closer: We now spent time together. We started saying “I love you” to each other, when we never had before. The fighting and arguing stopped. Real friendships developed among all of us. We had more to eat and were blessed with abundance in other areas.
I had noticed these changes too, but I hadn’t realized the timing could be linked back to when I was baptized.
“I may not be a member of your church,” she said, “but I am a friend of your church. And I know our family has been blessed because of Leonardo’s choice.”
I could hardly believe it! And yet, as Grandma spoke of how our family had grown closer, I suddenly remembered the photo the missionaries had shown me years before. Back then, I thought my only way to have a happy family was with my future family.
But I was wrong. My current family was happy! We had grown to love each other.
Maybe none of my family members will join the Church in this lifetime. But even if they don’t, I know that God has already blessed us in so many ways. The gospel of Jesus Christ shows us how to improve our families, no matter what our family situation looks like.

In my hand I am holding a pair of pioneer shoes. They were made by a modern-day pioneer, Brother Robert King, while he was serving as a missionary in Nauvoo. He was the first member of his family to join the Church, or so he thought. Brother King and his wife are currently serving as family history missionaries, and in the course of his research, he discovered that his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham joined the Church in 1835. But Reed was lost. He wandered down unknown paths, and the tender seedling of faith within him died.

Allow me to tell you the rest of Brother King’s story. Remember that the seed of faith was planted in the lives of both his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham. What became of Abraham? He kept the faith. Feeling fulfilled in the cause, Abraham endured the persecutions and trials of the pioneer migration west. Due to Abraham’s commitment to the cause of Zion, his posterity includes more than 2,000 members of the Church today.

Just as Abraham is loved and revered for being a courageous pioneer in his family, so will be my friend Robert King. He pioneered his way through a lost line of family history and caught up with his great-grandfather Reed. Because Brother King chose to seek for “the things of a better” and don his pioneer shoes, he is a conduit through which generations, both past and future, will receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Military basic training was tough, especially spiritually. I was surrounded by foul language and bad influences. Prayer and priesthood blessings gave me power to endure, but I longed to have more than personal prayers. Having served a mission, I knew the power and unity that can come from praying with a companion. Unity was one thing our group of about 56 airmen definitely lacked.
Three weeks into basic training, we were still struggling to get along and work as a team. Approaching the junior officers, I requested permission to hold a nightly prayer meeting for anyone who desired to come. Surprisingly, they not only agreed but also supported the idea.
Six airmen came to the first meeting. After taps and lights out, we used a flashlight to read a few verses from the New Testament that related to the challenges we were facing. We then said a prayer, asking that we could have the Spirit of God with us and that we could be grateful for the things we had.
Gradually, more airmen began attending our meeting. Soon our numbers had increased to 15. Sometimes we read Bible verses; other times we read from the Book of Mormon. Each evening anyone who wanted to pray was given the opportunity.
As I had hoped, our prayer meetings had brought unity to our group. But they did more than that: they strengthened us as individuals and helped us turn to our Heavenly Father.

Blessings come from holding true to our principles. When I was the president of the Cottonwood stake, one of our stake patriarchs was Dr. Creed Haymond. He would occasionally bear strong testimony of the Word of Wisdom. As a young man he was the captain of the University of Pennsylvania track team. In 1919 Brother Haymond and his team were invited to participate in the annual Inter-Collegiate Association track meet. The night before the track meet his coach, Lawson Robertson, who coached several Olympic teams, instructed his team members to drink some sherry wine. In those days, coaches wrongly felt that wine was a tonic for muscles hardened through rigorous training. All the other team members took the sherry, but Brother Haymond refused because his parents had taught him the Word of Wisdom. Brother Haymond became very anxious because he did not like to be disobedient to his coach. He was to compete against the fastest men in the world. What if he made a poor showing the next day? How could he face his coach?

The next day at the track meet the rest of the team members were very ill and performed poorly or were even too sick to run. Brother Haymond, however, felt well and won the 100- and 220-yard dashes. His coach told him, “You just ran the two hundred and twenty yards in the fastest time it has ever been run by any human being.” That night and for the rest of his life, Creed Haymond was grateful for his simple faith in keeping the Word of Wisdom.

“Hey, Shelly!” Shelly looked up from tying her running shoes to see Rosa waving from the starting line. “Come on,” Rosa called out. “Today we’re going to beat our best time!”
Shelly grinned. Rosa said that every practice.
Shelly liked two things about her new middle school. The first thing was being on the track team. When she ran, she felt light inside, like she didn’t need to worry about anything.
The second thing she liked was that nobody here knew that her parents had just gotten divorced.
Shelly gave her shoelace one last tug and took off to join the other girls on the relay team. Ouch! She winced as her toes jammed into the end of her running shoes. How was she going to tell Dad she needed new shoes again?
After the race, Shelly, Rosa, Becca, and Tiana were celebrating their new best relay time. “I told you we were going to do it today!” Rosa said.
Shelly laughed. She handed the baton to their track teacher and bent to loosen her laces.
“Good work, girls,” Mrs. Edwards said. “You work really well together. Don’t forget to pay your track fee tomorrow.”
Shelly’s smile faded. She had totally forgotten about that!
On the bus ride home, all Shelly could think about was the shoes and track fee. She didn’t want to give Mom one more thing to worry about. And the last time she had called to ask Dad for extra money, he had sounded annoyed. Lately it seemed like there was no one who could give her the help she needed.
When she got home, Shelly went straight to her room. At dinner her brothers and sisters talked and joked, but she just pushed her food around her plate.
After dinner Mom helped Shelly clear the table. “I’m meeting with Bishop Parker tonight,” Mom said. “Would you like to come and get a priesthood blessing?”
Shelly nodded. She really missed the blessings Dad used to give her when she was worried or sick.
A little later, as Bishop Parker gave her a blessing, Shelly felt something deep inside her relax. “Shelly, your dad isn’t in your home to help you now,” he said in the blessing. “But your Heavenly Father is always there. I bless you that you will be able to talk to Him just as you would to your dad, and Heavenly Father will always help you.”
Shelly felt lighter than she had for a long time. She had a warm feeling inside that told her the bishop’s words were true. Heavenly Father loved her and would listen to her. With His help, maybe she could even have the courage to talk to her parents.
On the way home, she told Mom about the shoes and the track fee. That night she knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help her have the courage to talk to her dad. She prayed about it again on the bus to school the next morning. By the time she got home from school, she felt brave enough to call her dad. This time he didn’t seem impatient or annoyed when she told him what she needed. Her prayers had been answered.
A few weeks later, Shelly laced up her new running shoes and ran to join Rosa and the other girls. It felt good to know she had a great team supporting her. She didn’t need to run her race alone.

Let me illustrate with a sacred experience which brought these guidelines together in blessing the lives of those in need.

While serving as a bishop, one cold winter day I visited an elderly couple who lived in a two-room duplex. The modest home was heated by a small coal-burning Heatrola. As I approached the home, I met the 82-year-old husband, his aged body bent in the driving snow as he gathered a few pieces of wet coal from his exposed supply of fuel. I helped him with his burden but made a solemn resolve to do more.

I prayed and pondered, seeking a solution. Step by step the inspiration came. In the ward was an unemployed carpenter. He had no fuel for his furnace but was too proud to receive the stoker slack he needed to keep his house warm. I suggested to the carpenter a way he could work for the help he received. Would he build a coal shed for a couple in need? “Of course,” he replied.

Now where were we to obtain the materials? I approached the proprietors of a local lumberyard from whom we frequently purchased products. I remember saying to the men, “How would the two of you like to paint a bright spot on your souls this winter day?” Not knowing exactly what I meant, they agreed readily. They were invited to donate the lumber and hardware for the coal shed.

Within days the project was completed. I was invited to inspect the outcome. The coal shed was simply beautiful in its sleek covering of battleship-gray paint. The carpenter, who was a high priest, testified that he had actually felt inspired as he labored on this modest shed.

My older friend, with obvious appreciation, stroked the wall of the sturdy structure. He pointed out to me the wide door, the shiny hinges, and then opened to my view the supply of dry coal which filled the shed. In a voice filled with emotion, he said in words I shall ever treasure, “Bishop, take a look at the finest coal shed a man ever had.” Its beauty was only surpassed by the pride in the builder’s heart. And the elderly recipient labored each day at the ward chapel, dusting the benches, vacuuming the carpet runners, arranging the hymnbooks. He, too, worked for that which he had received.

Once again, the welfare plan of the Lord had blessed the lives of His children.

In a general conference in 1973, President Harold B. Lee told of receiving blessings from an unseen heavenly messenger:
“I was suffering from an ulcer condition that was becoming worse and worse. We had been touring a mission; my wife, Joan, and I were impressed the next morning that we should get home as quickly as possible. …
“On the way across the country, we were sitting in the forward section of the airplane. Some of our Church members were in the next section. As we approached a certain point en route, someone laid his hand upon my head. I looked up; I could see no one. That happened again before we arrived home, again with the same experience. Who it was, by what means or what medium, I may never know, except I knew that I was receiving a blessing that I came a few hours later to know I needed most desperately.
“As soon as we arrived home, my wife very anxiously called the doctor. … He called me to come to the telephone, and he asked me how I was; and I said, ‘Well, I am very tired. I think I will be all right.’ But shortly thereafter, there came massive hemorrhages which, had they occurred while we were in flight, I wouldn’t be alive to be here today talking about it.” (General Conference, April, 1973.)

I was recently in Vladivostok, on the east coast of Russia. As I sat on the stand at the beginning of a youth and adult fireside, I noticed a young man in the second row immersed in a Duty to God guidebook for priests. I was thrilled and thought to myself: “Marvelous! Seventeen time zones away from Salt Lake City, and Duty to God is alive and well.” When I rose to speak, I asked him what his name was.
“Gere,” was the reply.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
I then moved to my real inquiry: “I noticed that you have been reading a book. What book have you been reading?”
Quickly came the reply: “I don’t know!”
“Well, where did you get it?”
“Out in the hall just before the meeting!” was his reply.
Immediately, as Gere spoke, Dimitri, a young man on the front row, jumped up, left the room, quickly returned with his own copy, and began to read. They were so ready for opportunities to grow.

“Things go fast when you work together, and when you work hard.” That’s the lesson Gail Morgan, 14, learned, when the Young Women of the Thetford Ward, Norwich England Stake, turned a port-a-cabin into a Young Women’s meeting room.
The cabin, located in the parking area adjacent to the meetinghouse, is a temporary solution to overcrowded facilities. “Before, we were meeting on the stage, with other classes all around, and it was very noisy,” said Tamaron Cary, 17. “Now, we’re separated from the noise.”
The Laurels made posters and used Mormonads to decorate the room, the Mia Maids made curtains, and the Beehives, who were busy on a Book of Mormon marking project of their own, joined the others as the curtains were hung and flowers placed in the room.

I was reminded of this principle among Muslims, and the profound influence of Muhammad’s example in their lives, while living in Cairo, Egypt, during the holy month of fasting, Ramadan. My family and I were invited by a Muslim friend, Nabil, to participate in his family’s evening meal in which they broke their fast. As we entered their modest apartment in one of the most impoverished quarters of Cairo, I noticed that one of the rooms was occupied by numerous women and their children. They were all sitting on the floor with food spread out before them on a cloth, quietly waiting for the call to prayer that marks the end of fasting each day. When I asked if they were his relatives, Nabil replied: “No, I don’t know any of them. It is our habit to invite strangers off the street who cannot afford good food to share our Ramadan meal. We do this because it was one of the customs of our prophet, Muhammad.”
I was deeply moved by my Muslim friend’s unselfishness and compassion for the poor and humbled by his good example in practicing a principle I had learned from the Bible years before but had rarely observed: “When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours; … but when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind: and thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot recompense thee” (Luke 14:12–14).

When I look back into my life, 13 years ago, I remember the times I used to wander aimlessly with loneliness seeking for some kind of inspiration. And that’s the time when the Lord showed me this true church. I started coming to church and was baptized on October 16, 2005. Later I learned about the gospel regularly and followed it consistently, which helped me make wise choices in many aspects of my life, and this helped me grow spiritually.

Illustration by Dilleen Marsh
One evening I was pondering what message to give at an upcoming ward conference. I had been studying the scriptures throughout the week, and although I had received great instruction and insights, I still had no clear direction of what the Lord wanted me, as stake president, to share with members of the ward.
In heartfelt prayer, I asked for guidance from the Spirit to direct my thoughts. Then I opened the scriptures and began reading again. My mind immediately turned to the ward’s goals that the bishop and I had recently discussed. One of those goals was to utilize Preach My Gospel in sharing the gospel with friends and neighbors.
I felt impressed to include Preach My Gospel in my own study that evening. I pulled out a copy and opened it to no page in particular. On that page, I found two handwritten scripture references—1 Nephi 8:8–11 and 1 Nephi 11:21–22. As I looked closer, I realized those references were written in my mother’s handwriting. My sweet mother had passed away several years earlier, two months after her 80th birthday. She was an example of courage and selflessness, who always saw the good in people. And she loved the scriptures.
I opened the scriptures to those verses to see what prompted her to write them down. As I read them, my mind immediately opened to the message that I should give. It was a simple message that members of the Church who have tasted the delicious fruit of the gospel may sometimes forget that many others are seeking that same fruit. We need to reach out and tell them where to find it.
I thought of my sweet mother as I looked through the rest of Preach My Gospel. There was no name, no other notes, or anything to indicate that the book had ever belonged to her. I sat in awe as I reflected on the chain of spiritual promptings that led to this moment. The Spirit confirmed to me that I had been directed in my thoughts, just as I had been praying for. Little did my mother know, however many years ago she wrote those references, that the Lord would use them to be the answer to her son’s humble prayer.

One night I read 3 Nephi 14:13–14: “Enter ye in at the strait gate; for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, which leadeth to destruction, and many there be who go in thereat;
“Because strait is the gate, and narrow the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” [3 Ne. 14:13–14]
I got up from my chair and walked outside. Alone in the darkness, I could see myself standing at that narrow scriptural gate, pacing back and forth, afraid to go in. I realized at that moment that I had found the way. The Lord spoke to me that night, not as we speak to one another, but with a still, small voice that said, “What are you going to do about it?”
I went back to tell President Conley I wanted to be baptized. But he was in Salt Lake City. Thinking that only the branch president had the authority to baptize, I left, intending to return a week later.
During that week, Satan placed another stumbling block in my path—more doubts. “Do I have to start all over again?” I wondered. After struggling with my doubts for three days, I started reading a book President Conley had given me—Truth Restored, by President Gordon B. Hinckley. As I did, the Spirit, which had borne witness to me of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, also bore witness to me that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the Lord’s true church.
When President Conley returned from Salt Lake City, I told him I wanted to be baptized. As we drove to Gilmer, Texas, for my baptism on 19 October 1970, I asked him, “Do I understand correctly from what I have read in the scriptures that just because I’m being baptized, I’m not saved, but that I have to endure to the end?”
He said, “That’s exactly right.”
I cried all the way to my baptism. I felt very strongly that the Church was true. After baptism, I felt it ten times more strongly.
Many times after, I wondered, “Why me? Why do I know the truth while many good Christian people don’t?” And a scripture always came to my mind, “Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (Luke 11:9).
Several weeks after I was baptized, I had the privilege of receiving a witness of the Holy Ghost once again, stronger than before. One morning at about 3:00 A.M., I sat up in bed with tears streaming down my face. The Holy Ghost was bearing such a powerful witness to me of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and of the Church that I felt like saying, “Please, Lord, no more, no more. I know it’s true.”
I do know with all my heart and soul that the Book of Mormon is true. It led me to the living God, to his Son Jesus Christ, and to his church guided by a living prophet.