Gospel Story Finder

But they’ve also learned equally important lessons of spiritual survival and the blessings of family. For example, when they lived in Akiachuk, the stake presidency authorized the Fullers to conduct meetings in their own home.
At first that may sound great. But think about holding sacrament meeting in the same living room that contains your TV and VCR and video games, in the same home where you sometimes argue and quarrel. The spirit of your meetings would all be up to you.
Besides, who would give the talks in sacrament meeting? Who would teach Sunday School, Primary, and priesthood meeting? That’s right, your family.
How did the Fullers handle it? For one thing, they made it a point to dress in their Sunday clothes for their meetings, even if it was just at home. And they accepted their responsibility to teach each other. Lyle has taught both Stanley and Linnae in Primary. “I enjoyed it, and so did they,” he reports. Clark’s experience was similar. “I thought it was kind of fun teaching Owen and Stanley. And when Mark taught me, I thought that was great.”
Now that they are in Barrow, they have a small branch of the Church that meets in the local youth center. Each Sunday they clear away the pool tables and other recreation equipment before they can set up a few chairs, a sacrament table, and a portable podium. And while there are perhaps a half dozen other members who help, it is still often Fullers teaching Fullers.
How important is example in this family? Seated at the control panel of the small radio station where he works as a part-time deejay, Lyle talks about life in a big family with lots of boys: “I grew up with five older brothers. Their example has made it easy to make the right choices. Also, it’s put pressure on me to live up to the things they’ve accomplished.”
Now Lyle is the oldest at home. It’s an unspoken duty that he feels deeply: “I was kind of scared when my brother just older than me was ready to leave home, because I knew being the oldest brother was kind of a big responsibility.”
Every night at bedtime, Clark, the next oldest at home, challenges Lyle to a rough-and-tumble wrestling match. Then it’s Dad who has to break things up. Third-in-line Ron isn’t quite ready to take on Clark yet because, “He’s still a head taller and 30 pounds heavier.” But then he glances sideways at Clark in the next room. He can’t help raising his voice, throwing out a teasing challenge: “But I could still take him. You hear that, Clark?”
The teasing and banter continue until it’s time for daily scripture reading and evening prayer. Together, the family has read all of the standard works aloud, seriously, taking time to discuss the meaning of what they are reading. There’s a peaceful spirit here in this cozy home.
Outside, it’s dark and overcast, with snow flurries. The calendar says it’s still early September, but this far north the first snowfall took place weeks ago. The days are growing noticeably shorter: from Thanksgiving through the end of January the sun won’t even appear above the horizon.
Those long weeks of darkness can cause people to become depressed and sluggish. Doctors have discovered that it can be avoided if people are exposed to the right kind of bright light for a period of time each day. As Ron Fuller puts it, “I just spend some time soaking up light every day.”
You can’t escape the analogy. Here is a family that has learned to turn to the Light, no matter where they are. Sometimes the world inappropriately uses the word godforsaken to describe places like this. But the Fullers feel anything but forsaken. And that’s what really puts them on top of the world.

Trevon Morris was among the first Pathway alumni and was the first to matriculate and complete a bachelor of science degree in computer science at the Brigham Young University-Idaho. This brave move has impacted his life tremendously. After completing the life skills course, Trevon said that he became debt free because he learned how to budget. Since enrolling in Pathway many years ago, his salary has increased, and he is now being considered for a promotion. Trevon said, “Pathway put me into BYU-I, where my skills have been enhanced tenfold . . . Life could not be better.” There are many others with similar success stories like Trevon and now everyone can have the same opportunity.

In the Philippines today we have more than 55,000 members of the Church. We have sixteen strong stakes and four missions. It is one of the more productive proselyting areas in the world. When the history of the work in the Philippines is written, it must include the story of Sister Maxine Grimm, a girl from Tooele, Utah, who served with the Red Cross in the Pacific campaign of the Second World War. She married an American army officer, and after the war they established their home in Manila. She did much to teach the gospel to others; she pleaded that missionaries be sent. Her husband had legal work done and did many other things to make it possible for the missionaries to come. It would have been much easier for them to have simply gone along their way, making money and enjoying the fruits of it; but Sister Grimm was unceasing in her efforts and pleas.

At the time, I had responsibility for the work in Asia and I carried her pleas to the First Presidency, who, in 1961, authorized the extension of formal missionary work to that land. In May 1961 we held a meeting in the Philippines to begin the work. We had no place to meet and received permission from the American Embassy to do so at the American Military Cemetery on the outskirts of Manila.

There, where are solemnly remembered the sacrifices of more than 50,000 men who gave their lives in the cause of freedom, we gathered together at 6:30 in the morning. Sister Grimm played a little portable organ she had carried through the campaigns of the Pacific War, and we sang the songs of Zion in a strange land. We bore testimony together and invoked the blessings of heaven on what we were to begin there. Present was one native Filipino member of the Church.

That was the beginning of something marvelous, the commencement of a miracle. The rest is history, discouraging at times and glorious at others. I was there for the area conference held several years ago with President Spencer W. Kimball and others. Some 18,000 members of the Church were assembled in the great Aranetta Coliseum, the largest meeting place in all the Republic.

I wept as I thought of the earlier years, and I remembered with appreciation the woman who largely forgot her own interests as she relentlessly pursued her dream of the day when the Church would be strong in the land which she then lived, bringing happiness of a kind previously unknown to thousands of wonderful people.

They came in groups, with sleeping bags and clothes under each arm, from cities throughout the massive state, twice the size of Texas. Handfuls came in cars from small cities such as Delta, Cordova, Kenai, Soldotna, and Clear. Others came in buses and planes. This meant a sacrifice of hard-earned time and money for many conference-goers. Eight youths from Juneau raised $1,400 to charter a flight in. One boy flew in from White Horse in the Yukon Territory, more than 500 miles away, at a cost of $150. The group from Kodiak Island floated for about 13 hours on a ferry and then immediately boarded a bus for another 11-hour trip. The largest group, 154 youths from Anchorage, drove in school buses for about seven hours.
But no matter how they traveled, their spirits were flying high when they arrived. From the start the pace of the conference was breathtaking.
The first night they threw their sleeping bags and clothes into the halls of the chapel, and then half of the crowd danced together at a record hop in the cultural hall, while the other half boarded buses and were whisked up to Uhlerhaven ski lodge to ooh and aah at the midnight sun.
The next day everyone joined together in the modern cement block and wood chapel to listen as astronaut Don Lind, in Alaska doing graduate studies at the University of Alaska’s Geophysical Institute, gave the keynote address on the conference theme “Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory.” Brother Lind painted a panoramic word picture of pioneers who suffered tremendous hardships for the gospel because they had glimpsed its glory. He urged the youth to take note.
“You may not have to bury your children on the plains or freeze your feet at Valley Forge,” Brother Lind warned, “but you will have trials as every generation has had trials; you may have more trials than most generations. You need, brothers and sisters, to glimpse the glory to sustain you through those times.”
The vividness of his words and the power of his spirit burned firm resolve in the hearts of that little gathering. Determination etched itself on every face, and soon the glory of their state, the glory of their country, and the glory of the gospel pulsed and glowed in everything they did.
They left the chapel and broke into smaller groups for workshops. The topics were as diverse as the youth who attended them. There were fun workshops such as “Cooking for Guys,” “Auto Mechanics for Girls,” and “Courting Alaska-style.” Sheepish, but excited boys dusted their hands with flour as they learned how to cook Maori hamburgers and other delectable delights.
“I figure I’ve got to cook on my mission,” one boy said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Why not learn now?”
Normally dainty girls rolled up their sleeves and tied back their hair to learn a little about what goes on under the hood of a car.
“I don’t want to become a mechanic or anything,” one girl commented. “But I do want to know the basics.”
And everyone sat back to munch popcorn and watch slides showing a melodrama of a typical old-fashioned Alaskan date with picnic basket, shotgun, and a bear.
There were also spiritual workshops such as “Answers to Gospel Questions” and “How to Prepare for a Mission.” President Barben led a lively discussion on many gospel issues in the chapel, and a recently returned missionary taught classes of boys and girls some practical tips on how to prepare for and succeed on a mission.
By lunchtime everyone had worked up a good appetite. The hot sandwiches on giant, Alaska-sized buns, potato chips, milk, and homemade brownies were eaten with great relish. Members of the Fairbanks Relief Society watched with proud smiles from the kitchen where they had been hard at work since 7:00 A.M.
The second half of the workshops went even faster and more delightfully than the first. After each class, comments such as, “You’ve got to go to the one I just finished. It’s the best so far,” could be heard in the halls when friends passed each other on their way to the next session.
As the workshops continued, one boy finally admitted, “I don’t know which one is the best. They’re all good.” And after it all ended, everyone seemed to have a common lament: “I wish I could have gone to all of them.”
But the laments were short-lived because faster than the bursting open of arctic buttercups in the summer sun, they found themselves in formals and suits at the university student union for a dinner and an upbeat dance with a live band. Although it looked more like a scene from a posh movie with elegant couples swaying in harmony, the simple melody of love was still very real. Three girls paused to help a friend mend the sagging hem of her gown. Several boys asked their timid advisers to dance. And everyone took turns photographing each other. If one person stood on the sidelines alone, an arm would reach around him and draw him into the group. There were no in-groups or out-groups, only the common bond of gospel love that continued to grow as the conference continued to unfold.
Saturday started on buses, where a thousand spirit-building adventures had their beginnings. The engines had barely started up when the strains of hymns or camp songs sung with the vigor of gold miners could be heard through the windows of the bright yellow caravan. As they sped toward a day of fun on the shores of Harding Lake 30 miles from Fairbanks, a friendly rivalry developed between cars and buses on the two-lane roads. “Guess what, team? We’re about to be passed,” shouted one bus driver. Immediately the windows flew open and arms and shouts crowded through to greet the car speeding up temporarily to pass the cumbersome bus. “There goes the mission president,” someone announced, and the cheers grew louder still.
By the time the caravan stopped to unload its cargo, everyone was ready for the full day to follow. Tug-of-war, volleyball, frisbee, horseshoes, baseball—everybody joined in with their muscles or at least their lungs. When someone stood by the sideline looking a little forlorn, he was immediately handed a bat and told he was up next.
“It’s like we’re a family,” one girl commented as she watched. It was as if even the moments were too precious to waste on anything but loving concern. “This is about the only opportunity I have to get together with Mormon kids,” a boy from one of the small communities explained.
Later in the day the Dunns arrived. “We don’t get many General Authorities up here,” one boy explained as the group clustered on the shores of the lake waiting for the Dunns’ helicopter. “When they do come, we get excited.” The excitement was very real when the whirr of the propeller and the roar of the engine turned all faces skyward. As the Dunns stepped out of the craft, camera shutters clicked, handshakes were exchanged, and swarms of smiling people enveloped them. Suddenly a chorus of “Shall the Youth of Zion Falter” filled the air as everyone lifted their voices in unison. “Only in Alaska, only in Alaska,” murmured one boy almost to himself.
From that point on, the tenor of the conference intensified. A still-vibrant, but now-hushed feeling swept the crowd as they gathered in the sands with their backs to the shimmering sun and listened to Elder Dunn in the first of three addresses to them.
“I know that many of you have traveled long distances to come to this conference. Yet I get the feeling that it was all worth it,” Elder Dunn said, looking into their faces. “I think I see here spiritual eyes that are very comforting. I don’t have too much concern about the future when I can look out at such a sea of righteousness.”
He spoke and they listened. They listened until their hearts overflowed, the fullness glistening down sun-bathed cheeks. And then they listened some more. When it was time to climb back on the buses, many were reluctant to leave. Only the promise of hearing Elder Dunn the next day, Sunday, gave them the will to part.
Sunday began early, and many of the now-scrubbed faces were drooping a little as they entered the large cultural center on the university campus for church meetings. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in over a month,” one girl on the planning committee later admitted quietly. But the tiredness almost felt good. It came from days filled to overflowing with Mormon-style work and fun.
It wasn’t long before the faces began to glow with spiritual awakening. The group divided for the first meetings. The boys met with Elder Dunn for a priesthood meeting in front of a huge mural of the Fairbanks countryside.
“Can you imagine,” he said, “what we could do if we took faith in God, confidence in self, and added that third ingredient—determination?” Then he answered his own question. “There isn’t a boy or a man in this room who couldn’t go all the way in doing anything he needs to do.”
Meanwhile the girls were meeting with Sister Dunn in the auditorium. The sweet spirit of womanhood at its best radiated from the girls as they listened to Sister Dunn bear her witness of the growth that can come through service in the kingdom.
“You know, girls, service is the only way to develop our capacities,” she said with quiet conviction. “The Lord wants us to grow and develop.”
From the third row a baby began to fuss and then cry. Sister Dunn paused for a moment, and everyone smiled as the mother offered the child comfort. Somehow it all seemed very right.
When the boys joined the girls in the auditorium for the final event of the conference, a three-hour testimony meeting, each paused for a moment in the greeting. The mysterious transformation that had occurred over the short night was most pleasing. Shirts and ties had replaced T-shirts, and soft dresses had replaced blue jeans. But the change was more than washing off the dirt and donning the Sunday best. They felt cleaner through and through. It was as if the words of the last night and the anticipation of the experience to come had brought a renewal of spirit, a new understanding of life.
As the meeting progressed, this renewal grew. Heart joined heart in a declaration of the power of righteousness that bowed many heads and filled many eyes. The lines of those waiting to bear testimony grew up the stairs the length of the auditorium.
“Do you know that the group sitting right here in this room could change the shape of Alaska?” Elder Dunn began the testimony bearing. “People want what you and I have if we are bold enough and courageous enough to share it with them. I’m just naive enough to think that you and I can convert the world.”
He spoke with boldness, and they answered with conviction.
“There is a feeling in this meeting that I can do anything that’s right,” one boy said, adding his testimony to Elder Dunn’s.
“I look around me and everyone is just sort of glowing,” observed one girl, her voice hushed in marvel.
And they did. It was a glow more beautiful than that of the midnight sun from the tallest mountain. It welled up from three days of nurturing and spilled over, moving all within its touch to swelling hearts and wet cheeks. Nonmembers stood to express their gratitude and testimonies in embryo. Adult advisers wept silently beside their youth. The Dunns watched in quiet wonder. And every heart joined in the silently resounding chorus, “His truth is marching on.”

For a long time after we moved to Salt Lake City, I felt I didn’t fit in. When we lived on the ranch, we would buy jeans that were too long, then roll them up at the bottom. That way we could wear them longer. But in the city, if someone wore his jeans that way, people made fun of him and called him a hick. People wore expensive brand-name clothes. My mother and father didn’t have much money. Father was working two jobs. Although he worked hard, he couldn’t afford to buy me stylish clothes. When I got older, I was able to get my own job and buy my own clothes.
From that experience, I learned that the way one dresses isn’t what really matters. It is important to be well-groomed, of course, but it’s much more important to be a person of character—someone who can be relied upon and who stands up for his or her beliefs, no matter what others are doing.

As we cultivate the Spirit in our own hearts, we become more able to teach, to reach other hearts by the Spirit. (See 2 Ne. 33:1.) On the other hand, if we lack the Spirit, our children may perceive insincerity, even though we say all the right words. They may feel that we are trying to force them into obedience, and they may resist us. One six-year-old, for example, caused a disturbance in a supermarket, demanding candy and pulling cans off a shelf when she didn’t get it. Instead of disciplining her more kindly, her exasperated mother gripped the little girl by the shoulders and harshly told her to sit down. “I’ll be sitting down on the outside,” her daughter responded, “but I’ll be standing up on the inside!”

When we teach through the Spirit—“and the Spirit shall be given unto you by the prayer of faith” (D&C 42:14)—there are a number of things we can do consciously to help our children learn to recognize, seek, and be guided by their own spiritual feelings.
1. Help them learn to pray. We need to start when they are very young, kneeling with them morning and night. In this setting, we can express love for each other and for Heavenly Father. By participating in this sacred experience over and over, children can form the habit of returning frequently to the reverence, love, security, and peace associated with prayer.
Personal prayer can become their private spiritual haven, but family prayer also provides important opportunities to experience spiritual feelings. Even tiny children are able to sense its reverential tones and worshipful peace. Of course, children can sometimes be disruptive and parents impatient, but the repeated experience of praying together can soften and strengthen everyone involved. One of our older children once said of a younger sister, “When I hear Jenny talk to Heavenly Father, I catch a glimpse of heaven.” We also have a son who, as a rambunctious three-year-old, was often subdued when he heard his name spoken in family prayer.
2. Keep the peace. A consistently serene atmosphere is essential for teaching spiritual things. Because the Spirit speaks in “a still small voice” (1 Ne. 17:45), it is difficult to discern spiritual feelings amid commotion, especially contention. We parents need to start with ourselves in this matter. By repentance and faith, we should strive always to be peacemakers in our families. We should speak softly and respectfully, express love and appreciation, apologize and forgive readily, and be cheerful. Success in these efforts may not come quickly, but home is the perfect place for practicing a better way again and again. Success will come more easily if we rid our homes of worldly influences, including television programs, videos, music, and reading materials that offend the Lord’s Spirit.
3. Teach the gospel at their level. The doctrines of the kingdom, taught in their simplicity and purity, have an everlasting impact on children as the Spirit bears confirming witness. In some respects, our children are like investigators in the gospel, inquiring and learning. When they ask questions and express thoughts that seem only remotely connected to the subject during family home evening, we should take their comments seriously and encourage thinking on their part, even though taking time to handle their concerns may keep us from getting through the lesson just as we planned. Supporting them in this way teaches children to trust their own feelings.
4. Lead them in wholesome family activities. Carefully selected activities can remove the family from worldly influences into a circle of peace and loving mutual support. The sense of belonging to an eternal family, which is a spiritual feeling, will serve children as a divine reference point by which to measure other relationships. Gangs and other damaging groups would have far less appeal if youth were spiritually bonded to their families.
One of our daughters has told us that the most meaningful times of her childhood and youth came “when the family was all together and no one was upset, and we sat around and talked and sang and felt the Spirit of the Lord. I was completely happy.”
5. Talk to them at every opportunity. Some of our favorite recollections are of heart-to-heart conversations when our children were eager to delay bedtime. We listened, asking just enough questions to encourage a child to recount the joys and disappointments of the day. Never have we found better opportunities to initiate talk about feelings and to point out, in terms of the child’s daily experiences, how the Spirit may have been heeded or ignored. These opportunities for sharing spiritual feelings with a child can also be found during ordinary daily activities like working in the garden, cleaning up the dishes, and going on errands.
6. Listen for spiritual promptings. We can be alert for opportunities to help our children welcome the Spirit’s influence—opportunities for them to feel gratitude, to reflect on blessings, to receive inspiration. One mother shared a story that illustrates the way parents can give gentle guidance in situations like these.
After a school carnival, her younger sons, Richard and Joe, were excited that they each had won a twenty-five-cent balsa-wood airplane, and her oldest son, Sam, was elated at having won two of them. But as the boys climbed into bed, Richard accidentally knelt on his airplane and broke it into pieces. He seemed inconsolable. The mother suggested that Sam share one of his planes. “Mom,” he replied, “how could you ask me to do something so hard?”
Gently, she reminded him of the gift of the Holy Ghost he had received after baptism. “Listen to your heart,” she added. “You will be able to decide what to do.”
A few minutes later, Richard wiped away his tears as he thanked Sam for the gift. And Sam wrote in his journal: “When I was getting the airplane for Rich, I felt a smile and a warm feeling in my heart. It was so warm I was about to burst. I could barely sleep that night ‘cause I felt that super amazing burst in my heart.” He told his mother that he knew the Holy Ghost had helped him make the decision.
Teaching about the Spirit seems particularly difficult when things are going badly at home. Our first impulse may be to take harsh measures with our children, perhaps to criticize, belittle, or condemn. At times like these, it is more important than ever to seek the Spirit ourselves and to restore peace by its influence and guidance. When we respond to disobedience, contention, or rebelliousness in this way, we invite healing through the Spirit and teach our families of the peace it brings.
“You can’t force your boys, nor your girls into heaven. You may force them to hell by using harsh means in the efforts to make them good, when you yourselves are not as good as you should be. … You can only correct your children by love, in kindness, by love unfeigned, and reason” (Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1971, page 317). This may require listening to children’s complaints or frustrations patiently while we fight the urge to force them to behave correctly. It may mean confessing our shortcomings to them and asking their forgiveness. It may cause us to weep with them over whatever has gone wrong. It may require that we leave what we are doing, however important we may think it is, and attend to our children’s needs.
When we faithfully do this sacred work of teaching our children, we do not do it alone. “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven” (Hymns, 1985, number 27), and in no other endeavor do we need those blessings more than in nurturing our children’s spiritual sensitivity. The Lord has promised to help us. (See D&C 45:57–58.) The sacrifices we make, the tears we shed, and the prayers we offer are never wasted. The very fact that we try calls forth heavenly assistance.
“Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

Such was Walter Stover of Salt Lake City. Born in Germany, Walter embraced the gospel message and came to America. He established his own business. He gave freely of his time and of his means.
Following World War II, Walter Stover was called to return to his native land. He directed the Church in that nation and blessed the lives of all whom he met and with whom he served. With his own funds, he constructed two chapels in Berlin—a beautiful city that had been so devastated by the conflict. He planned a gathering in Dresden for all the members of the Church from that nation and then chartered a train to bring them from all around the land so they could meet, partake of the sacrament, and bear witness of the goodness of God to them.
At the funeral services for Walter Stover, his son-in-law Thomas C. LeDuc said of him, “He had the ability to see Christ in every face he encountered, and he acted accordingly.”

Misha Sukonosov never imagined that attending English classes with the missionaries in Chernihiv would lead him to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. But that changed after several months of attending the classes.
Misha loved the spirit he felt as the missionaries taught him English. And when he finally accepted their invitation to attend Church meetings with them, he was surprised to feel the same spirit at church.
Finally, one of the elders invited Misha to simply do what he knew was right and be baptized.
Misha knew it would take a great deal of courage to go against his family’s traditions. In Ukraine most people are lifelong members of the predominant church. His family was no exception.
His mother wanted him to wait a few years to be baptized, so he agreed to wait until he turned 16. In the meantime he attended church every week and began serving as branch pianist.
“That helped me come every Sunday, because I had to come or there would be nobody to play,” Misha says.
Finally, when the wait was over, Misha was baptized in the Desna River on July 1, 2006. At the time, he had no idea how quickly his family would follow his example.
His mother, Olga, started coming to church to learn more about her son’s new religion. She came so often that the branch president asked her to play the organ in sacrament meeting so Misha could be called as the music director.
After six months of hearing the members’ testimonies, including her son’s, Olga developed a testimony of her own. Misha baptized his mother in December 2006.
Olga still plays the organ every week. Misha, now 17, keeps busy by helping the branch presidency, serving as a branch missionary, and leading the hymns in sacrament meeting.
“I know the Church needs me,” he says. “I am so grateful for these chances to serve. The Church helps me as I help others.”

It was our first Christmas away from home. Elders Heemeyer, Bright, Kehoe, Schulze, Westover, and I had gathered at one apartment to share Christmas. We had decided that spending Christmas together as a missionary district might make it easier to be away from home.
It was 5:30 on Christmas Eve, and we were all a little down. Many of our investigators wouldn’t meet with us, and finding new investigators was tough. We were running into the same response. “Visit after Christmas,” they all said.
After talking for a short time, Elder Schulze suggested we go caroling to our investigators and some less-active members. We all felt it was a great idea.We made up a quick program. Two hymns and a spiritual thought. We concluded with one last hymn and a prayer. The total program was short, perhaps 20 minutes, but we were pleased with it.
Before we left, we knelt for prayer. Then we set out into the cold night on the south side of Chicago.
Our first stop was at the home of a member whose daughter and two grandchildren were investigating the Church. They buzzed us into their building, and we began to sing. Granted, we weren’t the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, but for six elders we sounded pretty good. We shared our program with the family. Before we left, they said that our “gift” was the best they had ever received.
We soon found ourselves at a different apartment presenting the same message to another family. At every stop, our enthusiasm and joy grew. We kept hearing the same response. “This is the best gift ever. You really brought the Christmas spirit.”
We learned many things that Christmas Eve. Even though our message was simple, it brought joy into the lives of those we visited, and it also lifted our spirits. That night I came to better understand the true meaning of Christmas—that sharing and serving others is what Christ’s ministry is all about.
We also realized that home isn’t so far away when you are in the service of others and of your Savior.

While I was in South America recently, Brother Roger Parra from Venezuela shared the following experience with me:
“In 2019 Venezuela was shaken by problems that caused a power blackout for five days.
“Chaos and anarchy reigned in the streets, and many desperate people did not have sufficient food.
“Some began looting food businesses, destroying everything in their path.
“As the owner of a small bakery, I was very worried about our business. As a family, we decided to give away all the food in our bakery to people in need.
“Through one very dark night riots were everywhere. My only concern was for the safety of my beloved wife and children.
“At dawn I went to our bakery. Sadly, every nearby food business had been destroyed by looters, but to my great astonishment, our bakery was intact. Nothing had been destroyed. I humbly thanked my Heavenly Father.
“Arriving home, I told my family of God’s blessing and protection.
“They were all so grateful.
“My oldest son, Rogelio, only 12 years old, said, ‘Papa! I know why our store was protected. You and Mama always pay your tithes.’”
Brother Parra concluded: “The words of Malachi came into my mind. ‘I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground’ [Malachi 3:11]. We knelt down and gratefully thanked our Heavenly Father for His miracle.”

It was a calm day at my job as a volunteer firefighter, so I decided to read the Book of Mormon. When one of my co-workers saw me reading, he asked if I knew how we could put on the armor of God in modern times. As we were talking, the alarm sounded. There was a fire in a nearby store.
We quickly put on our firefighting gear and went straight there. The flames were huge, and as we approached the store, something exploded in our direction. The flames engulfed us. The explosion disoriented my co-worker and me for a few seconds. But thanks to our equipment and protective clothing, we suffered no injury.
When we returned to the station after fighting the fire, I asked my co-worker if he remembered his question about the armor of God. He said he did, and I explained that the armor of God is like our protective firefighting gear. We must always wear it so we can withstand the powerful attacks of the adversary. If we keep the commandments, we will be blessed with the protective power of the armor of God, and the Holy Ghost will be our guide.

It took nearly a year for Helio da Rocha Camargo, a former minister in another church, to decide to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A short while later, his wife, Nair Belmira da Rocha Camargo, decided to follow her husband’s example and be baptized as well.
At that time, Nair was pregnant with the couple’s son, whom they would name Milton. The Camargos’ unified decision to join the Church would forever bless future generations of their family.

Now, to my grandson for a moment: Darren, I remember a few weeks ago when we visited your ward sacrament meeting in Arizona. I was seated on the stand and you were assigned to pass the sacrament to those seated there. You passed the bread and the water to me in remembrance of the Savior. In your office as an Aaronic Priesthood bearer, you actually helped me rededicate my life to keeping the commandments of God. Even though I am your grandfather and a Melchizedek Priesthood holder, you used your authority to help me renew my covenants. I was thrilled with that experience we shared together. As I saw the reserved smile on your face I sort of thought you had figured it to be pretty neat too. Did you know that I’ve passed the sacrament during sacred times to the Presidency of the Church, as well as to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the other General Authorities? Isn’t it terrific that you and I use this same priesthood authority to help each other make these covenants with the Lord?

One day, when I was on the bus on my way home from work, I started to learn the truth. My friend Elaine’s brother, Liam, got onto the bus that day and, being a friendly type of person, sat beside me and started to talk to me. I offered him a cigarette. He said he didn’t smoke. He could have stopped there, but he didn’t. He told me why he didn’t smoke. He had joined the LDS church.
Liam told me a lot about the LDS church that day, and I was impressed. I was also impressed at the change it had made in his life. I wanted to know more. Unfortunately, Liam left two days later to work in Canada. So I waited and prayed and prayed and waited.
Roughly two months later, as I sat watching TV on a sunny May evening, out of the corner of my eye I saw two missionaries pass by my house on the street. I had no idea they were LDS. I just felt the urge to talk to them. I asked my mom if I could bring them in and ran to the door to call them. They were totally shocked! They hadn’t had an investigator for months, and here was one tracting them.
I totally wrecked their door approach. They walked up to me and said, “We’d like to share a brief message with …”
“Come in,” I said before they could finish.
They did and they taught me a spiritual first lesson. At the end of the discussion, I knew they spoke the truth. I loved hearing about Joseph Smith. I, too, had prayed for truth. I hadn’t had a vision, but like Joseph Smith, I had found the true church. I debated about asking if I could possibly join their church. During the second discussion, they challenged me to be baptised. I challenged them to stop me!
I had one problem. I had heard people talking about gaining a spiritual witness. I have to admit my prayers had racing stripes on them. I used to pray and hop straight into bed, put on some music, and go to sleep. The missionaries told me to pray and wait for an answer. That’s what I did. One night I prayed and didn’t close my prayer. I stayed on my knees waiting. Then I sat on the side of my bed waiting. Then I woke up at about 5:00 A.M. with an urge to read the Book of Mormon. I opened the book and began reading Alma 32 about faith. It was my answer! [Alma 32]
Of course, it wasn’t all easy sailing. My mom threw a fit when I told her, and the family stopped speaking to me. My mom even threatened to throw me out unless I “lost” the Mormons. I was scared of losing my family, and they knew it, so they put on the pressure. I knew the Church was true, so I took my chances on their love for me. My dad and mom and sister did everything they could to stop me from leaving the house on the day I chose to be baptised. But I left after trying once more to make them understand.
On the way to the church, I shook like a leaf and cried and cried. I was still shaking when I stepped into the font, but when I heard Elder Gooch say the words, “Ashley Catherine Moran, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ … ,” I forgot all my problems. Later, when I was confirmed a member of the Church and received the Holy Ghost, I lost all my fear and entered into the straight and narrow path.
My family still loves me. They have even befriended some members. I want them to know true happiness, to know as I do, that they are children of God. I am happier than I have ever been. I know who I am and I know that God lives. I love my Savior, and Joseph Smith is a prophet. We have a prophet on the earth today, and if I follow his counsel I will stay close to my Father in Heaven. The Book of Mormon is scripture for this last dispensation. It’s all true!

At church, I was called as a ward clerk and later as a counselor in the bishopric. I couldn’t believe that someone in a wheelchair could serve. My accident had made me feel useless, but working in the Church made me feel useful and helped me realize I could contribute. I love the opportunity to grow closer to Jesus Christ as I serve.
As a counselor in the bishopric, I wanted to be guided so I could be better at my calling. That made me want to prepare more for each Sunday. I got into the habit of reading my scriptures, and I had opportunities to bear my testimony. Being a leader at church even helped me become a leader at work. I built up the feeling that I could lead and speak up, allowing me to lead in other areas.
“Working in the Church made me feel useful and realize that I could contribute,” says Posenai. “I love the opportunity to grow closer to Jesus Christ as I serve.”

Later, we walked back into Pam’s sister’s classroom. The teacher asked Pam to help her with something, so I sat down and quietly observed. There were about ten students, ages and handicaps varying widely from child to child.

Several of the children had the physical characteristics of Down’s Syndrome. One of these students watched me for a few minutes, then smiled. I smiled back. A little boy with curly red hair and rosy cheeks, he looked about eight years old. He was plump and he rubbed his palms together as he walked toward me. Sitting down in the chair next to me, he wiggled back and forth for a while before he put his hand up to my ear and whispered something.

He told me a corny joke, and I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. Slapping his knees and tilting his head back, the little boy laughed with me. He told me his name before he ran off to play again.

A few moments later the classroom teacher walked over to me and quietly said, “You mustn’t laugh at the students.”

“But why?” I asked. “He told me a joke, and I thought it was funny. He enjoyed it.”

The teacher seemed taken back by my response. “Well we mustn’t encourage them when they’re acting silly,” she added as she started walking away. “I’ve been working with mentally retarded children all my life. I know how to handle them.”

I noticed the little joke teller, Kenny, out of the corner of my eye. He was rubbing his palms together and rocking back and forth at his desk. Then he turned to the student next to him and whispered in his ear. Both of them burst out laughing, slapped their knees, and flung their heads back.

“Shh!” the teacher said.

Suddenly I noticed the principal. He was standing in the doorway and had heard and seen everything that had just taken place.

“Don’t judge her too harshly,” the principal said sitting down next to me. “She was taught that way, and she has done a lot of good over the years.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well that teacher was taught to help these children become as ‘normal’ as she could. But the longer I work with these kids, the more convinced I am that we should become more like them, not make them more like us.”

I looked at the principal as he was speaking. He was middle-aged and balding.

“You’re different,” he continued, looking at me. “Most of the people who come through the school are afraid. As soon as one of the students touches them, they go wash their hands. But you’re different.”

I didn’t know what he was getting at.

“Will you be coming with Pam from now on? We could use some more help.”

I stammered around awhile, “Actually I hadn’t planned on it. I work and go to school both, so I don’t have much free time.”

“I understand,” he said, disappointed. “But if you ever have a free afternoon, please feel welcome.”

I assured him that I would.

The next time Pam was ready to leave for her sister’s school, I was busy studying for a midterm. Then I thought about Kenny and his chapped red cheeks and corny jokes and I had to jump up, slip on a sweater, and go too.

Dear Little Carrie,
I thought about you a lot on Christmas Day. I imagined you and your mom and dad around the Christmas tree, opening presents and later eating turkey and pumpkin pie. Our Christmas in Paraguay was very different, and I thought you might like to hear about it.
We had decided to visit the Ugarte family for Christmas. They live 80 kilometers through the jungle, in a little village called Itakyry. There is a small wooden chapel there, where we could spend the night. In the Ugarte family are a grandmother, a mother and father, and 11 children. Their house has only two rooms and two beds, so we couldn’t stay with them. We packed some small gifts in the back of the car and left early in the morning of the day before Christmas. Two young elders went with us.
In Itakyry, Sister Ugarte was very sad. It was the day before Christmas, and she had no presents to give her children. It took all their money and time just to provide the essential things that such a large family needed. Nothing was left for gifts or even a special treat for Christmas dinner.
All that morning she worked. She washed clothes in the stream and spread them on the bushes to dry. She tended the garden and cooked black beans and rice for their mid-meal. After they ate, she rocked the baby and mended clothes. As she worked, she prayed. “Heavenly Father, please send our good friends, the missionaries, here for Christmas. I know it is a long way for them to come, but it would make this day special. Please, Heavenly Father.”
We didn’t know that she wanted us to come. The Spirit just told us that it would be good if we did. A bridge was washed away, so we had to walk the last few miles through the jungle. My goodness, how happy the Ugarte family was when they saw us coming through the trees!
That night we had a very special family home evening in the little wooden chapel. The beautiful story of the birth of Christ was told, and testimonies were shared. Then for a long time we sat, watching the silent stars and singing the sacred hymns of Christmas.
The Ugarte children didn’t understand when Grandpa tried to act like Santa Claus the next morning. They did enjoy the simple gifts we passed out, though. There was a small doll for each little girl, sweet-smelling soap for the older girls, and windup toys for the boys.
We missed our own dear grandchildren, but this Christmas in Paraguay was a very special one for us. The best gifts that we can give or receive at Christmastime are love and service.
I’m looking forward to hearing about your Christmas, Carrie. I hope that it was also filled with that special Christmas feeling and that you didn’t miss us too much.
Love,
Grandma and Grandpa

In the Granite 12th Ward, Sandy Granite Stake, the girls combined a valuable lesson in sparing someone’s feelings with learning the art of quilting. Heidi Tuft explains that it all started at camp. “It was one girl’s birthday. Somebody called her a nickname that hurt her feelings. We all wanted to apologize, so we wrote a letter and each of us signed it with a nickname we didn’t care for. Our leader signed hers as ‘Frog Master.’ After that, frogs became our mascots.” The girls appliquéd comical pictures of frogs on a quilt top and learned to make the tiny, even stitches required in quilting. Heidi said, “It was hard learning to quilt. We had to keep starting over until we learned how.” When the quilt was completed, the girls presented it to a counselor in the bishopric. The quilt became a visual reminder of the lessons they had learned together. The gift of kindness had been added to their baskets.

A final example of being blessed during adversity is finding heightened joy in the return of temple ordinances.
This is best described with a story. When Sister Kaitlyn Palmer received her mission call last April, she was excited to be called as a missionary but felt it equally important and special to go to the temple to receive her endowment and make sacred covenants. Shortly after she scheduled her endowment, the announcement came that all temples would temporarily close due to the worldwide pandemic. After receiving this heartbreaking information, she then learned she would attend the missionary training center (MTC) virtually from her home. Despite these disappointments, Kaitlyn focused on keeping her spirits high.
In the intervening months, Sister Palmer never lost hope of attending the temple. Her family fasted and prayed that temples would open prior to her departure. Kaitlyn would often start her home MTC mornings by saying, “Is today going to be the day we receive a miracle and temples open back up?”
On August 10, the First Presidency announced that Kaitlyn’s temple would reopen for living ordinances on the exact day her early-morning flight to her mission was scheduled. She would not be able to attend the temple and make her flight. With little hope for success, her family contacted temple president Michael Vellinga to see if there was any way the miracle they had been praying for could be realized. Their fasting and prayers were answered!
At 2:00 a.m., hours before her flight departure, Sister Palmer and her family, in tears, were greeted at the temple doors by the smiling temple president with the words, “Good morning, Palmer family. Welcome to the temple!” As she completed her endowment, they were encouraged to move quickly, as the next family was waiting at the temple doors. They drove directly to the airport just in time to make her flight to her mission.

You never know what will happen to the seeds you plant. Elisabeth Gambee of the Springfield First Ward, Eugene Oregon Stake, recently found out when she received a letter from a friend whom she’d met at camp and had given a copy of the Book of Mormon to. He had just received his mission call to Boston.

That was the highlight of a year that included many bright spots. Elisabeth graduated from seminary, served as ASB vice president, was in the honor society, was on the varsity cheerleading squad and tennis team, and performed in school musicals. She was also chosen by her school to be Young Woman of the Year.