Gospel Story Finder

For a first profile, I mention Jose Garcia from Old Mexico. Born in poverty but nurtured in faith, Jose prepared for a mission call. I was present the day his recommendation was received. There appeared the statement: “Brother Garcia will serve at great sacrifice to his family, for he is the means of much of the family support. He has but one possession—a treasured stamp collection—which he is willing to sell, if necessary, to help finance his mission.”
President Kimball listened attentively as this statement was read to him, and then he responded: “Have him sell his stamp collection. Such sacrifice will be to him a blessing.” Then, with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face, this loving prophet said, “Each month at Church headquarters we receive thousands of letters from all parts of the world. See that we save these stamps and provide them to Jose at the conclusion of his mission. He will have, without cost, the finest stamp collection of any young man in Mexico.”

My natural mother, Irene, was unknown to me; she died from a serious infection in 1946 caused by inadequately clean medical instruments. I was 8 months old at the time, so the key consequence for me was the loss of that physical bond so essential to an infant in their early years. I was the fourth child, so very fortunately there were older siblings who had some memories of Irene; and even more fortunate was the connection I made with Shirley, the dear lifetime friend of my oldest sibling, Gwen, who fondly recalled her memories of my mother.
Shirley would often visit our home in Hayes, within a stone’s throw of her own home. She always remembered the very kind lady that was my mother. This connection with Shirley was made when I was in my fifties, and fortunately well before Gwen passed away in her late 70s — this long-distance friendship between Shirley in England and Gwen in Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, was crucial to me in becoming better acquainted with my early departed mother.

“Often I had the privilege of driving Grandfather to one of his conference assignments. During this time he would talk about his life. He especially remembered Christmastime when he was a boy. His parents were poor and often there was nothing for Christmas.
“Once his gift at Christmas was having his ice skates sharpened. Two of his friends received nothing so Grandpa let them borrow his newly sharpened skates.”

When Greg returned from his mission, he finished up at Ricks, then went on to BYU. He never had satisfied his dream of becoming a student body president, but the thought of presiding over BYU’s 27,000 students seemed overly ambitious to him. His sister Kristie was convinced he could do it though. She helped him find a running mate, served as his campaign manager, and after a lot of hard work, Greg was elected by one of the biggest margins in BYU history.

“That really helped prepare me for where I am now,” Greg says. And actually, he is quite surprised to be in this position at Harvard. He’d already satisfied his goal of serving as a student body president, and knowing how many hours he’d put into the position at BYU, he didn’t think he could handle it at graduate school. After much prayer and a lot of requests from fellow students, however, Greg decided to give it a try. A lot of hard work went into that election too, and it paid off.

Even though Greg has won a multitude of other awards and titles, he feels that some of his greatest satisfaction comes when his accomplishments put him in a position to answer questions about the Church. “I’m constantly being questioned about our beliefs,” he says with a smile. “And I’m always happy to talk with anyone.”

And they’re usually happy to listen. Fellow students scrutinize Greg a little closer than they do other classmates. Not only is he their president, but he’s also one of a handful of LDS people they might know.

Tomorrow he’ll probably be walking Wall Street, but today, on the brisk Monday afternoon, his class discussions are finished and he walks over to one of the numerous meetings he has each week. Many students call out to him, greeting him by name. Some glance at him with a mischievous look in their eyes and call out, “Hi, LARRY!” That’s Greg’s first name, but he hates to be called that and they know it. On the first day of class this year, the student body gave him a standing ovation and shouted out, “Larry! Larry! Larry!” It’s impossible to take yourself too seriously with classmates like that.

Still, many of them ask him how he’s accomplished what he has. “My theory of success,” he tells them, “requires two things—that you work hard, and that you pray hard.” Greg slides into his seat at the head of a large conference table, and the other student body officers begin to file in. He is prepared. He should be. He was up until 2 A.M. making use of his theory of success.

Bathsheba’s early life was filled with excitement as she witnessed the beginnings of the restored Church. Born May 3, 1822, in Shinnston, Virginia, to Mark and Susannah (Ogden) Bigler, Bathsheba was a cheerful child, and she loved to spin, weave, and do embroidery with her mother and to go horseback riding with her father on their three-hundred-acre plantation. Religiously inclined, she was careful to say her secret prayers.
She wrote in her autobiography about joining the Church at age fifteen: “Some Latter-day Saint Elders visited our neighborhood. I heard them preach and believed what they taught. I believed the Book of Mormon to be a divine record, and that Joseph Smith was a Prophet of God. I knew by the spirit of the Lord which I received in answer to prayer, that these things were true.” Bathsheba’s immediate family and her uncle and his family were baptized.
One of her first experiences as a member of the Church was ridicule by her young acquaintances, and when the family decided to join with other Saints in Far West, Missouri, Bathsheba was disappointed that she couldn’t leave immediately with her married sister, Nancy. While pondering this disappointment, she seemed to hear a voice say, “Weep not. You will go this fall.” And her family did leave for Missouri that autumn.
During their journey, they were stopped by men who gathered around their wagon and tried to prevent them from going any farther. But after talking among themselves, the men said, “As you are Virginians, we will let you go on, but we believe you soon will return for you will quickly become convinced of your folly.” But Bathsheba and her family never thought of the gospel as “folly,” and events such as this only caused them to cling more strongly to their beliefs.

I was born in Bogotá, Colombia. My parents taught me to believe in God, and for that I am very grateful. But like every human being, I made mistakes, and these mistakes slowly weakened my relationships with my family. Due to tension in my home and with the motivation of seeking a better life, I decided to take a vacation in Fusagasuga, a town close to Bogotá. While I was there, my problems continued.
One day I went out for a walk, wondering if I should seek help. Finally I asked God to help me; I felt that was the right thing to do.
After a few days I met a young woman who told me about the church she was attending. What she said made me curious and hopeful. I asked if I could attend one of her church’s meetings.
On arriving I was welcomed by kind people. They introduced me to the missionaries, who gave me the first discussion and a Book of Mormon.
At the end of my vacation I went back to Bogotá, where I was in an accident and injured my leg. Because I could not walk well, I started to read the book the missionaries had given me. It was then that I found answers to many questions I had about the purpose of life and the correct way to worship God. The teachings of Nephi and Mosiah and others gave me the desire to talk with the missionaries about this Church.
Because of my accident it was difficult to move about, but the desire to learn more was so great I went to Fusagasuga in search of the missionaries. When I found them, they gave me the address of some missionaries close to my home, and I returned.
The day the cast was taken off my leg, even though I still could not walk well, I looked for the nearest Latter-day Saint Church building. I found the missionaries there—as if they were waiting for me. Elders Castro, Mamani, and Duran answered my many questions and invited me to join the kingdom of God.
Every time we talked, I felt that this was the right road and that God had answered my pleas for help. Like many, I sought the truth on my knees; the nicest part of the gospel message was that I could know the truth for myself. Two months later, on 4 June 1994, I was baptized.

Originally from Fiji, Reena Naidu’s family moved to Sydney, Australia, when she was young.
She discovered her gift for art in high school when an assignment required her to submit a self-portrait. “At about the same time, I read a Church talk about developing our talents and I felt inspired to develop my artistic skills,” Reena says.
She followed that inspiration to the National Art School in Dalinghurst, Sydney, where she earned a master’s in fine arts. Today she is a manager for an art supplies company where she helps others select the right materials for their art projects.
For her own work, Reena prefers ink, watercolour and acrylic paints.
“My subject matter includes, but is not limited to, landscapes, seascapes, portraits and more. I also have a strong desire to create works that are inspired by my faith and look forward to creating more religious and spiritual art.”
Her selected work is called “The Sacred Grove.” It is based on a photo given to her by a missionary couple who had visited the Sacred Grove in New York. Reena began work on this piece in 2020 while watching a general conference talk about young Joseph Smith’s experiences there.
“As I listened, I got lost in the moment and I was drawn into the photo . . . I felt the Holy Spirit guiding my hand.”
For Reena, the grove is a reminder that God loves and hears His children. “The Restoration of the gospel, beginning with the appearance of Deity in that wood, provides a way for all of humanity to receive God’s blessings.”

Frustrated with how hard it is to find modest clothing, young women in the Harris First Ward, Mesa Arizona Central Stake, gathered more than 1,500 signatures from like-minded friends and classmates in just three weeks. What started as a Laurel project for Lisa Prince and Julie Despain grew to include the other 30 or so young women in the ward and became front page news. The petition drive earned them a lot of attention, both from the media and from a couple of national clothing retailers.
The youth stood as witnesses in interviews with two Arizona newspapers, radio shows in Ireland and Arizona, and magazines in Germany and Australia. They also got to talk with vice presidents of two major department stores. The girls were invited to submit their ideas, participate in focus groups, and try out new fashions. Representatives of both department stores said more modest fashions were on the way.
“We had no idea we’d get the response we did,” said DeLynn Bodine, the Young Women president.
In the end the young women realized that living their values could bless people all over the world.

Illustration by Brian C. Hailes
The first time the missionaries stopped by my house, only my brother Charles was there. As they discussed the Restoration, my brother felt the Spirit and accepted a copy of the Book of Mormon. Before Charles began reading the book, I saw it and asked him what it was and where he got it. Charles explained everything to me, including how he felt meeting with the missionaries.
I thought it all sounded ridiculous and ordered Charles to return the book. I persuaded my family to support me, and they agreed that the Book of Mormon was unacceptable in our house.
The next time the missionaries came by, Charles was gone. I returned the book and told them to leave. They told me that I would need the book someday. This caused me to drive them away in a rude manner.
Not too long after this, a childhood friend whom I had always admired invited me to a Church activity. I refused. He and another friend kept inviting me to church, and when they offered to pick me up, I eventually agreed. Imagine my surprise when I entered the Church building and saw the same missionaries that I had driven away! I had no idea it was the same Church!
The bishop of the ward befriended me that day, and I started to attend church more often. With a lot of love and support, I eventually started to read the scriptures. Thanks to friends, loving leaders, and the scriptures, I was eventually baptized. Since then, both my brother and I have served missions in our native Africa. Even though we may face the same rejection I dealt to those missionaries that day, I know that if we are faithful and persistent, Heavenly Father will bless our efforts and we will be able to share the gospel.

George Albert Smith was born during the week of April general conference, 1870. Many people came to Temple Square that week to see the balcony that had just been added to the Tabernacle.
A boy: Two thousand extra seats, and it’s still crowded in here!
As a young man, George Albert often went to visit Lucy Woodruff, who lived just across the street from the almost-finished Salt Lake Temple.
Lucy: George Albert, look at that beautiful hot air balloon.
George: I think it’s going to hit the Tabernacle!
George Albert ran to call the fire department from the nearest telephone. But when the firefighters got to Temple Square, they discovered that the gates were locked and that the night watchman didn’t have a key.
George: We have to break in fast!
Fire man: Line up, men. We’ll charge the gate on the count of three.
Working together, the men and firefighters put out the blaze. The Tabernacle was saved!
Lucy: George Albert, you’re a hero!
Later, after marrying Lucy and serving a mission, Elder George Albert Smith gave many sermons in the Tabernacle as member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
He also became the first president of the Church to give a general conference talk on television. Many people saw on TV the Tabernacle that, years before, George Albert Smith had helped protect from fire.

Nor did the early Saints forget it either. In 1913, with the aid of Elder Sellers from Vernal, Utah, and Elder Joseph E. Ward from Parowan, Utah, the Magnolia chapel was built. It stands now as the oldest LDS chapel in Alabama.
Before construction began, a mob gathered to drive the elders out. Mrs. Willie Autrey, a nonmember, stepped out with her gun and turned the mob away. So the Magnolia chapel was built and has stood through the years as a monument to the dedication of area Saints, early and modern.

Rachel Moss knew three people in the congregation.
Seated nearby were her mom and dad and her stake president. Outside of those familiar faces, the place was filled with a bunch of strangers. Well, except for the people she didn’t know but did recognize, namely former U.S. President George Bush and his wife, Barbara, as well as former Secretary of Transportation Elizabeth Dole and General Colin Powell.
Gulp.
Lots of things were going through her mind. “Yeah, I was really nervous,” she says. “I just wanted to make sure that I did everything right.”
As she sat with the other speakers in the sanctuary of Mother Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, her stomach was churning.
Be sure to make eye contact, she kept telling herself. Don’t talk too fast.
Rachel, a Mia Maid in the Marshaltown Second Ward, Philadelphia Pennsylvania Stake, was invited by her stake president to represent the Church and speak at an interfaith worship service that concluded U.S. President Bill Clinton’s Summit for America’s Future in April of 1997. She was one of five youth speakers on the program.
“That’s one of the things I remember most, just sitting there waiting. I’m not much for being in the spotlight,” Rachel adds.
But the spotlight was glowing brightly that day, and it didn’t take Rachel long to realize what a great opportunity she had to teach people a little about her beliefs.
After the microphone was adjusted for her, she began.
“I am grateful for this opportunity to share with you our feelings about the importance of young people and the contribution they can make to the community around us,” Rachel said.
“Before I began, everybody was clapping and talking,” she remembers. “When I went up, it stopped. There was no talking, and everything was completely quiet. I thought it made it kind of easier because I felt like they were actually listening. Really listening. That was neat.”
Rachel’s five-minute talk dealt mainly with the Church’s emphasis on the family. She quoted from the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Church’s proclamation on the family, and the 13th article of faith [A of F 1:13]. She then concluded with this from For the Strength of Youth:
“Joy and happiness come from living the way the Lord wants you to live and from service to God and others. The Lord asks you to keep your life pure, seek his Spirit, maintain your self-respect, and be a good influence on your family and friends,” she said.
Then she sat down.
I’m sure glad I didn’t mess up, was her first thought.
Indeed not.
“I’m glad I was chosen. My testimony got a lot stronger, and I feel like I have more conviction. What I believe is important to me, and speaking in that meeting has made me think of my beliefs more,” she says.
Her talk gave others plenty to think about too.

Later on I realized how hard it frequently is for some people to give up something they really love and enjoy. I have always loved sports and particularly enjoyed playing handball with my brother David. One day I came off a handball court perspiring heavily and with my face flushed. A nonmember friend of mine, Dr. Plummer, was standing near my locker. He looked at me and said, “Brother Joseph, if you don’t stop that, one of these days you will drop dead on the floor, just as So-and-so did.”
It was hard for me. Every day I wanted to play some handball. Whenever I would look out my office window, I’d see the Deseret Gym next door and want to go and play. But I kept my resolve. I visited Dr. Plummer a short time later, and he said, “Brother Joseph, are you still playing handball?”
I said, “Doctor, when you told me to quit, I quit, and I have never been back on the court.” That seemed to please him very much, but my teammates were very upset. They came to me and said, “We need you. You are breaking up our foursome.”
“I am sorry,” I said, “but I am through.” I enjoyed that game more than I can say. I almost hungered to play, but I had learned that it was not good for me at my age. At that time I gained a little more perspective on how difficult it is for converts to give up some activity or habit they may have enjoyed for many years prior to baptism.
I’ve learned from my own experience that when you want to change, really want to change, you can do it. Our conscience and the scriptures tell us what to live by—and they tell us what habits we should change for our eternal welfare and progress.

My first week at college was difficult. I had never been away from home before, and now I was living in a different state. I was away from family, friends, and everything familiar to me. To make matters worse, my new roommate had yet to arrive. I was lonely—very lonely. I missed my family a lot.
Most of all, I missed my mother’s hugs. Each day before I went to school, and each day as I returned home, my mother embraced me. Her hugs reassured me of her love, made me feel safe, and reduced all the stresses I had felt during the day. I would then talk with her about all that had happened. She was always there to listen to me and help me feel better.
Now, when I came home from school, all I found was an empty apartment. I would sit on the edge of my bed and cry because I felt so alone. I longed for her hugs.
The only thing I felt I could do was pray. I knelt and explained to my Heavenly Father how I felt. I talked with Him as I had with my mother and told Him of all the events in my day—of the new and exciting things, the stresses I felt, and the worries I had. I then told my Heavenly Father I desperately needed a hug. I felt the warmth of His Spirit flow through me. And although I could not see His arms, I knew they encircled me. I felt as though my mother had just hugged me. All the fear and loneliness was washed away, and I felt loved. The scripture from 2 Nephi 1:15 came into my mind: “I have beheld his glory, and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love.”
After that day, whenever I feel lonely or need someone to talk to, I talk to my Heavenly Father. I gained a testimony of the power of prayer and the reality of the knowledge that my Heavenly Father really listens. I know I am never alone. No matter what my needs are, my Father in Heaven will help me.

In June 1972, Sister Nelson and I decided to take our family on a rafting trip down the Colorado River. We thought it would be fun to be together for a week, and we were told the water level was low, so we believed it would be safe. We had no idea how dangerous the trip would turn out to be!
Our youngest child was only four months old then, so we left him with relatives and went with our nine daughters and one son-in-law. On the second day of the trip, as we started to go over the Horn Creek rapids, we suddenly saw a drop ahead that seemed to be the depth of a several-story building. These precious people in my family were about to drop down a waterfall in a small rubber raft, and I was frightened! By instinct I let go of the rope in the raft and protectively put one arm around my wife and the other around our youngest daughter, Marjorie, who was not quite seven years old.
I was sitting in the back of the raft, and as we hit the rapids, I was thrown into the air. I landed in the water, and each time I tried to reach the surface, I found myself trapped underneath the raft. I was tossed about by the water like an egg in an eggbeater, and I had no air and nearly drowned. My family couldn’t see me, but I could hear them shouting, “Daddy! Daddy! Where’s Daddy?”
I finally came to the surface, and my family was able to drag me, exhausted, out of the water. They were relieved to see me—and I was certainly glad to see them!
The next several days we went over rapids that were much calmer. Then toward the end of the trip, we approached rapids that were much more difficult than any we had previously gone through.
We decided to have a family council, so we stopped the raft by the side of the river. We knew we had to have a plan if we were going to live through this experience. I was so worried about the safety of my family that if there had been a way to end the trip right then, I would have done it. But there was no other way to get to our destination or to return to where we had started.
I said to my family, “The only way we can make it through these rapids is to understand that the raft will make it through no matter what, because it will float. So if we hold on to the rope on the raft with all our strength, we will make it through the rapids. Even if the raft flips over, we will make it.”
I turned to my littlest daughter. “Marjorie,” I told her, “you will need to hold on to your daddy. Get behind me and put your arms around me and hold on tight!”
We went through the terrifying experience of going down those steep, rough rapids where, as we later learned, people had lost their lives in the past—and we made it.
A lesson we all learned from that trip is that we need to learn as much as we can before we begin new experiences. If they are dangerous—even life-threatening, as ours was—we should avoid them if possible. If avoiding a dangerous situation is not possible, we can be sure that we are prepared.
Another lesson we learned is that there is a right way and a wrong way to go through the dangerous rapids of life. The wrong way is to react by instinct and do what immediately comes to mind, like when I let go of the rope and was flipped out of the raft. The right way is for parents to cling to the iron rod of the gospel and for children to cling to their parents and their leadership, like Marjorie clung to me. Then they will all make it through the rough water.
My wife and I have tried to cling to the iron rod of the gospel and have taught our children to cling to us as they, too, learn to hold on to the iron rod. If you will hang on to the gospel and to the counsel of your righteous parents, you will make it through any trouble in life.

Years of practicing the piano paid off for Stephen Beus when he took home first prize in the Gina Bachauer International Artists Piano Competition last September. His performance of Prokofiev’s Third Piano Concerto secured him the first-place award.

Stephen, who grew up in Othello, Washington, had to compete against people from all over the world, including Japan, Russia, and Germany, in this international competition, which is held in Salt Lake City.

However, this was not the first time Stephen has competed in the Bachauer competition. When he was 11, he took part in the junior division and placed fifth. Three years later, in 1996, Stephen competed again in the junior division and took first place. A few years later, Stephen put his piano career on hold for two years to serve a full-time mission in Finland. Read about why he did it in “Playing a Different Tune” from the August 2001 New Era.

Today was Kvitka’s baptism day. She had been thinking about this day for a long time. She had imagined it all. Wearing a special white dress. Tato (Dad) baptizing her. And all her friends and family there, smiling proudly.
But today was going to be a bit different than Kvitka had imagined.
Some things were the same. She was wearing a special white dress, just like she imagined. Babusya (Grandma) had sewn this dress for Mama to be baptized in when she was young. And now it was Kvitka’s turn.
Tato was going to baptize her. Just like she had imagined. Kvitka watched him dip his hand into the water in the font.
“Nice and warm,” he said. He smiled at Kvitka. She smiled back. Then she looked at the chairs that she had helped Tato set up.
There weren’t many. That was the biggest difference. Kvitka had always imagined that many people would come to her baptism. But there would only be a few.
Ever since COVID-19 had started making people sick, many things were different. She and her little brother, Vlas, had school at home. They wore masks when they left their apartment. And nobody met in big groups. Not anywhere. Kvitka wanted to help keep people safe, but sometimes it was hard.
Like when you couldn’t invite everyone to your baptism.
“Kvitka! You look beautiful!”
Kvitka looked up to see Babusya walking through the door.
“Hi, Babusya!” Kvitka hopped off her chair and ran over.
“You look just like your mama did,” Babusya said. She touched the white flowers in Kvitka’s hair. They matched the lace flowers on her dress. Kvitka liked flowers. Her name meant “flower” in Ukrainian.
“Are you excited to get baptized?” Babusya asked.
“Yes,” Kvitka said. “Only, nobody is here.”
“Nobody!” Babusya said. She looked around. “But I see Mama, Tato, Vlas, and little Melania. And there’s the bishop. And even two missionaries. That’s not nobody.”
Kvitka shrugged. “But none of my friends are here.”
“That must make you sad,” Babusya said. “But we do have two surprise guests.”
Kvitka perked up. “Who?”
“Your aunt Pavlina,” Babusya said. “And your cousin Emma!”
“Really?” Kvitka asked eagerly.
Babusya smiled. “When they get here, will you do me a favor?”
Kvitka nodded. “What?”
“Well, when you get baptized, one thing you promise is to stand as a witness of Jesus Christ. Do you know what that means?”
Kvitka did know. Her family had been studying baptismal covenants for weeks!
“It means to be a missionary!”
“Very good,” Babusya said. “Your aunt and cousin have never been in one of our Church buildings before. Will you be a missionary and help give them a tour?”
“Yes!” Kvitka said.
When Aunt Pavlina and Emma arrived, Kvitka and Babusya did just that. They showed them the Primary room, her classroom, and the chapel. Then they came to the baptismal font. Kvitka told them she wanted to be baptized to follow Jesus Christ. She felt a light, comforting feeling as she spoke. Aunt Pavlina and Emma smiled at her. She hoped they felt the same feeling.
Soon it was time for the baptism. Kvitka held her breath as Tato dipped her all the way under the water—just like she had imagined. There may have only been a few people watching, but they were smiling just like she had imagined. And she was sure Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were smiling down at her too. That was easy to imagine.

Shortly after Marco was released as bishop, the pandemic struck. Brother Peña lost his job, and the family was plunged into a new round of emotional and financial crisis. Following the counsel of Church leaders and the revised handbook, 13 the Peñas’ elders quorum president took the lead in seeking inspired ways to support them. Counseling with the new bishop, the elders quorum president felt prompted to assign Marco to help Brother Peña.
The important relationship of trust was already there. And with the assignment, given under the authority of priesthood keys, Marco could rely on receiving the revelation he would need to help. 14
“Some would call it ironic that I was asked to help Brother Peña after spending so much time with them as bishop,” Marco said. “But this assignment has been a choice experience for me. It is an assignment from the Lord to help do His work. I am grateful to be able to help lift not only the Peñas’ burdens but the bishop’s as well.”

My service in the army went fine until one day my friend discovered the feed to his automatic rifle was missing. In my country, stealing such an item is a serious crime against the government and is punishable with jail time. Our entire company looked for the missing part for three days, which was the time we had been given to find it. I didn’t look in my own footlocker because I knew I hadn’t taken it.
The captain of the company, a member of an evangelical church, authorized a search of all footlockers. All members of the company were present when my footlocker was inspected. I was astonished when the searchers found the missing rifle feed in it. I had no idea how it had gotten there.
It was a painful moment for me; I knew the captain could send me to jail. Members of my company stood around watching, concerned with what was going to happen to me. The room was quiet as we waited to hear what the captain would say.
He called me over to him, and in a low voice asked for my explanation. All I could say was, “I don’t know.” He looked at me, and then he said these words: “I know what your conduct has been all this time, and I know you didn’t do it.” Then another officer said to the captain, “I, too, believe that this soldier did not do it.” One by one, all the other officers came up to me and offered their support.
Until that moment I hadn’t fully realized the blessing of obedience or the power of example. Tears began to run down my cheeks. I recognized the protecting power of my Savior. I knew He was at my side. Because of this experience, the verse in 3 Nephi that had impressed me earlier will always be engraved on my mind. I am grateful the Book of Mormon taught me to be a light and an example.

Eleven-year-old George Monk attended the temple dedication with his mother and grandmother. He saw “a man appear at the south-east circular window of the assembly hall of the Temple.” When he told his mother, he was surprised to hear her say she could not see him. As the meeting continued, he saw “two other [angelic personages moving] … across the upper part of the hall from south to north … and five others [who] had entered the large compartment and were ranged upon the wide ledge which runs along the wall under the row of circular windows.” He described them as “the prettiest men” he had ever seen. Just prior to the benediction, he said, “Mamma, look at that one under the clock, he is the prettiest of them all. See! he is holding up both his hands like this.” Then George held up his own hands to show his mother. In all, he saw eight angelic personages and described them as “dressed in loose flowing white robes” and “most, if not all, had long and somewhat wavy hair.”