Gospel Story Finder

My husband’s great-grandfather Henry Clegg Jr. was a finisher. He joined the Church with his family when the first LDS missionaries went to Preston, England. Henry had a view of his destination in his mind as he and his wife, Hannah, and their two young boys immigrated to Utah. Henry left his older parents, who were too feeble to make such a long and arduous journey, knowing he would never see them again.
While crossing the plains, Hannah contracted cholera and died. She was laid to rest in an unmarked grave. The company then moved on, and at 6:00 in the evening, Henry’s youngest son also died. Henry retraced his steps to Hannah’s grave, placed his young son in his wife’s arms, and reburied the two of them together. Henry then had to return to the wagon train, now five miles away. Suffering from cholera himself, Henry described his condition as being at death’s door while realizing he still had 1,000 miles to walk. Amazingly he continued forward, putting one foot in front of the other. He stopped writing in his journal for several weeks after losing his dear Hannah and little son. I was struck with the words he used when he did start writing again: “Still moving.”
When he finally reached the gathering place of the Saints, he began a new family. He kept the faith. He continued his story. Most remarkably, his heartache over the burial of his sweetheart and son gave birth to our family’s legacy of moving forward, of finishing.
Henry Clegg was still moving forward to live among the faithful Saints, to take his place, to raise a righteous family, to serve his neighbor. He had that picture in his mind even when his heart was breaking. I heard a Primary child from Ghana answer the question “What does it mean to choose the right every day?” with, “It means to follow the Lord and Savior every day and do your best even when it is hard.” This modern pioneer boy knew President Hinckley’s admonition. He knew about keeping commandments every day. He understood that his own story would unfold simply by putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.

Elder Wood, an engineer by profession, rebuilt Eric’s hand-pedal tricycle. He performed a similar overhaul on his wheelchair. He also counseled with President Cosgrave of the Ghana Kumasi Mission, a medical doctor. They felt Eric could be baptized if proper precautions were taken.

Eric shows his tricycle to his mother and siblings after senior missionaries repaired it.

“Elder Wood wrapped my body in plastic, with tape around the plastic,” Eric explains. “Then he carried me into a font filled with water treated with disinfectant. I was baptized on June 26, 2016.” Eric had relied on the Lord, and the Lord had provided a way.

From the time the tooth fairy left her first quarter under my pillow, my parents have been teaching me to be careful with my money. I always paid tithing first on everything I earned and put at least half into savings for college.
By the time I met my husband, I was pretty sure I had done everything right when it came to managing my money. I didn’t have a credit card or a car loan, and I had worked part time during college so I didn’t have to take out a student loan. I had followed my parents’ advice about money to the letter.
So I was shocked when my husband and I sat down to open a joint bank account and get our first credit card. The bank clerk came back and told us that our application for a credit card had been rejected. I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong.
As it turns out, there is a lot more to credit than I realized. I set out to learn the basics, and I now understand why our first credit card application was denied. What I learned will help you prepare to handle credit wisely in the future.
I knew that using credit usually ends up costing you money, so I avoided credit cards. But I didn’t understand that there are some times when using credit might be necessary and beneficial.
It turns out my credit card application was rejected because neither my husband nor I had a credit history. This is a record kept on any person who has ever used credit before (whether a car loan, a credit card, or even a store card). A credit report lists all the lines of credit you have, what the balances are, and whether you’ve made your payments on time. All of this information is combined to create a credit score—a number usually between 300 and 850 that tells lenders how likely you are to repay a loan. The higher your score, the more lenders will trust you to make your payments on time. Plus, you’ll get better interest rates and terms on loans.
Because my husband and I had never used credit before, lenders had to assume we weren’t a safe investment. When we bought our first car, we had to make a large down payment and pay a high interest rate until our credit score improved. It was an expensive mistake. By getting a credit card earlier and paying off the bill in full each month, we could have built a good credit history without ever paying interest. This would have allowed us to get better terms on our car loan and saved us money.

That fall, while the printers made steady progress on the Book of Mormon, a former judge named Abner Cole began publishing a newspaper on Grandin’s press. Working at night in the shop, after Grandin’s staff went home, Abner had access to printed pages from the Book of Mormon, which was not yet bound or ready for sale.
Abner soon began poking fun at the “Gold Bible” in his newspaper, and during the winter he printed excerpts from the book alongside sarcastic commentary.11
When Hyrum and Oliver learned what Abner was doing, they confronted him. “What right have you to print the Book of Mormon in this way?” Hyrum demanded. “Do you not know that we have received a copyright?”
“It is none of your business,” Abner said. “I have hired the press and I will print what I please.”
“I forbid you to print any more of that book in your paper,” Hyrum said.
“I don’t care,” Abner said.
Unsure what to do, Hyrum and Oliver sent word to Joseph in Harmony, who returned to Palmyra at once. He found Abner at the printing office, casually reading his own newspaper.
“You seem hard at work,” Joseph said.
“How do you do, Mr. Smith,” Abner replied dryly.
“Mr. Cole,” Joseph said, “the Book of Mormon and the right of publishing it belong to me, and I forbid you meddling with it.”
Abner threw off his coat and pushed up his sleeves. “Do you want to fight, sir?” he barked, pounding his fists together. “If you want to fight, just come on.”
Joseph smiled. “You had better keep your coat on,” he said. “It’s cold, and I am not going to fight you.” He calmly continued, “But you have got to stop printing my book.”
“If you think you are the best man,” Abner said, “just pull off your coat and try it.”
“There is law,” Joseph responded, “and you will find that out if you did not know it before. But I shall not fight you, for that will do no good.”
Abner knew he was on the wrong side of the law. He calmed down and stopped printing excerpts from the Book of Mormon in his newspaper.12

As Heber grew older, his persistence and fortitude were put to good use in business ventures. Offered an appointment to the United States Naval Academy, he opted to stay near his mother and to become a businessman instead.7 After finishing his schooling at age 16, Heber got a job as a bank clerk and learned bookkeeping. His honesty, ability to work hard, and great desire to learn soon opened up many opportunities. By the time he was 20 years old, he had been made the assistant cashier of Zion’s Savings Bank and Trust Company, and he had purchased an insurance agency.8

We have in the modern history of the Church contrasting examples of men who were highly favored of the Lord. One, Hyrum Smith, remained totally faithful and committed, even to the giving of his life, while the other, Oliver Cowdery, despite having witnessed “some great things” in the history of the Restoration, became blinded by his personal ambition and lost his exalted place in the leadership of the Church.
Oliver Cowdery shared with the Prophet Joseph Smith many of the profound events of the Restoration, such as their baptism under the authority of John the Baptist, the conferral of the Aaronic Priesthood, the marvelous appearances in the Kirtland Temple, and writing with his own pen “the entire Book of Mormon (save a few pages) as it fell from the lips of the Prophet [Joseph Smith].” No one except the Prophet Joseph was more honored with the ministering of angels than Oliver Cowdery.
But when the Prophet Joseph fell upon hard times, Oliver was critical of him and became estranged from him. Despite the efforts of the Prophet to reach out the hand of fellowship to him, he became hostile to the Prophet and the Church and was excommunicated on April 12, 1838.
A few years after the death of the Prophet, Oliver repented and expressed interest in coming back to the Church. In response, Brigham Young wrote on November 22, 1847, inviting him to “return to our father’s house, from whence thou hast wandered, … and renew thy testimony to the truth of the Book of Mormon.” Oliver appeared before the high priests quorum and said: “Brethren for a number of years I have been separated from you. I now desire to come back. I wish to come humbly and be one in your midst.—I seek no station. I only wish to be identified with you.—I am out of the church. I am not a member of the church. I wish to become a member of the church again. I wish to come in at the door. I know the door. I have not come here to seek precedence. I come humbly and throw myself upon the decision of this body—knowing as I do that their decisions are right and should be obeyed.”
He also bore his testimony in these words: “Friends and brethren my name is Cowdery, Oliver Cowdery. In the early history of this church I stood identified with [you.] I … handled with my hands the gold plates from which [the Book of Mormon] was translated. I also beheld the interpreters. That book is true. Sidney Rigdon did not write it. Mr. Spaulding did not write it. I wrote it myself as it fell from the lips of the prophet.” Even though Oliver came back, he lost his exalted place in the Church.

Sometime ago I remember reading about an experiment with chickens. I do not remember the source. Young pullets, as they grew in their life cycle, were given all of the food they needed to eat, without being required to make an effort to obtain it. Then as the pullets matured, they were turned out into the chicken coop, where they had to scratch for their food. A chicken who had never been taught how to scratch as a pullet would mature without learning this ability and would literally starve to death, even though just below the surface of the ground was all the food it needed to sustain life.

Then the article went on to compare this example with a child who was not taught the ability to love early in its life. In all probability, according to the article, the child would not be able to develop that choice characteristic as it matured to adulthood. How tragic it would be if a child were deprived of the ability to love!

Pam had never really thought of herself as being different. She had always known, of course, that she was Korean and that she had been adopted by Mom and Dad when she was just a baby. She loved to hear the story about how her parents went to the airport to get her and how excited they were to have the baby placed in their arms. She enjoyed looking at the special album her mother had, which contained her medical report, a brief history, and several pictures. She giggled at the two small pictures of the chubby baby in the strange Korean woman’s arms. Her mom always told her that she and Dad had taken one look at those pictures and said, “Yes, we want that child!”
But today she didn’t feel wanted as she huddled in a corner of the school yard and tried to keep the tears from falling. Just a few minutes ago their teacher, Mrs. Macy, had lined them up by the door and asked,
“All right, who’s turn is it to be the line leader for kickball today?”
“Me! Me!” Randy had demanded loudly.
Mrs. Macy had been gentle but firm. “Randy, you were leader last week.” After checking her list, she had given the ball to Pam.
When they were outside, Randy had come up to Pam and demanded to be the leader.
“It’s my turn. I want to do it,” Pam had said, clutching the ball more tightly.
“Come on, Pam. Let me do it.”
“No.”
“You dumb Chinese!”
The words had come out harshly and spitefully. Pam had frozen. Randy, pleased to be getting a reaction from her, had continued, “You don’t even belong in this country. You’re not like us at all! Why don’t you just go back to where you came from?”
Pam had felt the eyes of her other classmates boring into her. No one had said a word. Pam had dropped the ball and had run across the field.
It was hard to go back to the classroom when the bell rang. Pam slumped down in her seat all afternoon and didn’t speak to anyone. The minute school was over, she rushed out of the building and raced home. She gave her mother a brief hello, then locked herself in the bathroom. She stared at her slanted eyes, olive complexion, and straight black hair. She was different!
Pam barely said anything during dinner, but it all came pouring out when her mother brought out a pink brocade Oriental jacket she had bought for Pam.
Pam’s thank-you for the gift was barely audible.
“Don’t you like it?” her mother asked. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“No, I don’t!” Pam burst out. “It looks Oriental. I want to look like everyone else!”
Her parents exchanged glances. “What happened today, Pam?” her mother asked quietly.
Pam told them about what Randy had said and how the rest of the class had stared at her.
“Randy is mistaken,” Dad said. “First of all, you are not Chinese; you are Korean. You’re certainly not dumb. And what is most important to us, you are our daughter, and we love you very much.”
Talking to her parents helped. Pam felt secure in their love for her. But she still dreaded going to school the next day. She waited until the very last bell had rung before hurrying to her seat. She stared straight ahead throughout the class period, and when recess time came, she went to a corner of the field and stayed by herself. She didn’t talk to anyone the whole day, not even to Patti, her best friend. When school was over, and Patti started toward her, to walk home together the way they usually did, Pam hurried away.
Pam kept to herself the next week too. She didn’t play with anyone at school, and she spent her time at home reading in her room. Her mother urged her to go out and play with her friends, but Pam just shook her head.
The following Monday she walked home slowly. There was no need to hurry anymore, because Patti no longer tried to catch up with her. Pam was just heading into the field across from the service station when she heard a low whine. Something or somebody was in trouble! She stopped and listened. There it was again, a whine of pain just to her left. She hesitantly walked toward it. Bending down, she saw a dog tangled in some brush so that it couldn’t get free. While she spoke soothingly to the dog, Pam gently freed his trapped leg.
It was after she had untangled the dog and he was licking her hand gratefully that Pam got her first real look at him. He was the funniest-looking dog that she had ever seen. He had one huge black patch around one eye, and his nose was bent to one side. His ears were way too long for his short body, and Pam saw that his legs were short and bowlegged.
As Pam started for home again, the dog waddled along right behind her. “Go away now!” Pam told him firmly. “Go home!”
But the dog kept following her. When she reached her house, she wondered, What am I going to do with him? She knelt down and scratched him behind the ears. Again the dog’s tongue licked her. Pam sighed and went into the house, her new friend right at her heels.
“Pam, what is that!” Mother exclaimed.
Pam explained how she had found the dog and how he had followed her home. “He’s awfully skinny, Mom—can I feed him something?” she pleaded.
Worried about the dog’s ownership but happy to see Pam interested in something again, her mother went to the refrigerator for some leftover meat.
Pam spent the rest of the afternoon with the dog. She decided to call him Hector. After she gave him a bath with the garden hose, she brushed his coat until it was dry and shining. Then she found a stick and tried to teach him to chase it. When Hector got the idea and bounded eagerly after the stick with his curious lopsided gait, Pam laughed with delight. By the time her father came home, she thought Hector was the cutest dog she’d ever seen.
“What’s that?” Dad asked.
Pam giggled. “A dog!” She explained again how she had found him. “I call him Hector. Can we keep him? Oh, please! Can we?” she pleaded as her mother joined them in the backyard.
Her father knelt down beside her and Hector. “OK—but only if you check the newspaper. He probably belongs to someone, honey.”
“I will, Dad, but I’m sure he doesn’t! There’s no collar or anything. Please. I love him!”
“That funny looking thing?”
“He’s not funny looking!”
“What do you mean? Look at that patch, that nose, those legs.”
Pam drew Hector protectively into her arms. “But I like him! Just because he looks a little different from other dogs doesn’t mean that he isn’t the most super dog in the world. I love the way he looks.”
Her father stroked her hair. “Why, Pam. Do you mean that a dog—or a person—can look different and still be very wonderful and very loved?”
“Yes! That’s what I like about Hector. He’s different! He’s—” she stopped as she realized the point her father was making. Maybe she was a little different from the other kids, but Dad and Mom and Mrs. Macy and her friend Patti liked her just as she was!
Dad went into the house, and Pam sat outside for a long time, thinking and stroking Hector’s back. At last she got up and went into the house, with Hector following her. Her parents were sitting in the living room.
“I’m going to call Patti,” she said. “I want to see if she can come over after dinner and meet Hector.”

A dedicated quorum president reported that even his prayers had changed. He found himself praying for the members of his quorum instead of for his own selfish interests.

17 September 1846:The remaining Nauvoo Saints were driven from the city in violation of a treaty of surrender. The siege leading up to the surrender became known as the Battle of Nauvoo.

It was time to take the cows and goats to the high Alpine pastures for summer grazing. And Hansi had gotten up early to attend to his pet goat, Groffi. He remembered the summer before when the little goat was born with one leg shorter than the other. It had had a hard time even learning to hobble, and Hansi had taken care of her. Now the boy was shaking with excitement as he huddled in the dark stable with his little pet. Hansi was planning to do something that might be dangerous for both of them. But he felt it was the only way to show his father how much the little crippled animal meant to him and the only way to keep her for himself.
The goat had been no trouble during the winter when the animals were in the stable and out of the cold and snow. But his father had said, “You may keep the goat until spring. Then we must give her to old Simon up on the mountainside. He will take good care of Groffi. This little one would only be in the way during the steep climb to the meadows. I’m afraid she would never make it.”
Hansi was troubled and tried to convince his father that Groffi would be no trouble, but his father was firm about it. “Every animal must be worth its keep,” his father explained. “When you are a herdsman, you will understand.”
Hansi wanted very much to be a herdsman someday, to wear the velvet jacket with red designs on it, and to blow the long alpenhorn. But just now, what he wanted most was to keep Groffi with the other animals and not give her away. Old Simon must be a strange, gruff man, to live alone so far away from the people in the Village. How would such a man treat a goat that limps? Hansi wondered.
So on this festival day when all the villagers would travel in a procession partway up the mountain with the herdsmen and the animals, Hansi was going ahead of them alone with Groffi to the high pasture. If I do this, he thought, Father will see that Groffi can make the climb and will let me keep her.
He peeked out the stable door. His family and all the others in the village were dressing in their gay costumes, preparing to start. Dogs were barking and cowbells jangled. People would soon be busy putting garlands of flowers around the cows’ necks and loading milk pails in the cheese carts the little donkeys would pull. Maybe they’ll be too busy to notice I’m missing, he hoped.
With Groffi in his arms, Hansi stepped out of the stable and hurried behind it then over to the trail that led up the mountain. He started up the path carrying Groffi, but she soon became heavy.
Hansi put her down and she was able to climb along, but she was in no hurry. She stopped often to nibble daisies and forget-me-nots along with the grass. “Hurry, Groffi,” Hansi urged. “Wait until we get to the meadows, then you can eat. Oh, I wish you had some climbing shoes like mine!”
Hansi looked up the mountain and knew that he was doing a risky thing. Even the herdsmen who had been climbing for years were careful of every step and kept close watch on the animals. Goats have sure feet, but Groffi was not like other goats. And Hansi knew he should not be going alone with her. But he kept on, half pushing, half carrying his pet. After a while Hansi guessed they were about a mile from the village. It was a good head start from the others, who probably hadn’t left home yet.
Soon Hansi came to the place where he knew he must leave the path to circle around Simon’s hut. If the old man saw him, he would ask questions, and Hansi didn’t want to have to answer them. Off to the side it was rocky, and Hansi knew he must test every step. He put one foot on a smooth shale rock almost as big as a table. It ought to be solid, he reasoned. Then he picked up Groffi and tried his weight on the rock. But he had barely stood up on it when the rock slipped and started sliding rapidly down the mountain with Hansi and Groffi on top of it. They were thrown off when the rock hit a tree. Hansi grabbed his scraped leg and looked for Groffi. But his pet was nowhere to be seen.
Hansi knew he was in trouble and that he had acted foolishly. But for the moment he could only sit still and try to keep back the tears. After a while Hansi heard footsteps. He looked up and saw Simon coming toward him. At first Hansi was frightened, but then he saw Groffi hobbling along close to the old man. Simon’s hand was warm and his voice was soft as he helped Hansi to his feet and asked, “Are you hurt, my boy?”
“Only bruised,” Hansi replied, brushing himself off and wiping his tears with the soft handkerchief Simon handed him. And to his surprise he was soon telling Simon the whole story. At the end he admitted, “I was afraid you wouldn’t love Groffi as I do.”
The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Who should love a goat anyway? Only a little boy? I have lots of love, enough for goats as well as boys.” Groffi nuzzled Simon as he rubbed her head behind her ears.
Hansi smiled. He knew that Groffi would have a good home and that made it easier to give her up. “Can I come often to visit her?” he asked.
“Of course, come anytime. An old man needs more than animals to love.”
Hansi’s face clouded again as he remembered that he still had to go back down and face his father. “Father will be angry with me,” the boy explained.
“Yes, that’s true,” Simon agreed. “But he’ll forgive you, I’m sure. If a boy and an old man can love a goat so much, don’t you think a father can love a son even more?”

8. Ask three questions a day. The seed for the theory of relativity was planted when Albert Einstein was 16 years old. He asked himself the questions, “What would happen if a person tried to imprison a ray of light?” We don’t know how many before him had asked a similar question. We only know about the one individual who wrestled with the problem long enough to find an answer.

It was not Einstein’s brilliance in mathematics that insured his success. It was his courage to question what others had taken for granted.

After recovering from serious health challenges, Elder Robert D. Hales shared the following in general conference: “On a few occasions, I told the Lord that I had surely learned the lessons to be taught and that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to endure any more suffering. Such entreaties seemed to be of no avail, for it was made clear to me that this purifying process of testing was to be endured in the Lord’s time and in the Lord’s own way. … I … learned that I would not be left alone to meet these trials and tribulations but that guardian angels would attend me. There were some that were near angels in the form of doctors, nurses, and most of all my sweet companion, Mary. And on occasion, when the Lord so desired, I was to be comforted with visitations of heavenly hosts that brought comfort and eternal reassurances in my time of need.”17

Several years ago, Sister Nattress and I moved to Idaho, where we opened a new business. There were long days and nights at the office. Thankfully, we lived just a few blocks away from work. Each week, Shawna and our three daughters—all under the age of six—would come to the office to share lunch together.
On one such day after our family lunch, I noticed that our five-year-old daughter, Michelle, had left me a personal message, written on a Post-it Note and attached to my office telephone.
It simply read, “Dad, remember to love me. Love, Michelle.” This was a powerful reminder to a young father about those things that matter most.

Stephen Owino is a longtime resident of the city and a modern-day pioneer in every sense of the word. Neatly woven into his rich tapestry of faith are the comely threads of curiosity and patience in pursuit of truth. His soul-stirring conversion story involves multiple actors, across two different continents, working in concert to help him along the well-traveled path of discipleship. This mild-mannered, sociable father of three wrestled with the same questions that Joseph Smith and every honest seeker of truth must inevitably ask. Who am I? What is the purpose of life? Which church should I join?
Stephen’s onward march on the covenant path began with a simple online search for churches in Kenya, back in 2018. It was during one of those searches that he stumbled upon a passing reference to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and thought to himself, “What a peculiarly long name for a church.” Several clicks later—and what can only be described as a prompting from the Spirit—he would reach out halfway around the world to Tonya Isom, inquiring about the possibility of meeting with the missionaries so he could learn more about her beliefs. Why Tonya? For some reason he can’t explain, her thumbnail image stood out above the rest on the Church’s official Facebook page and he felt like she could help him find the answers he was looking for.
Several weeks elapsed before Tonya got around to reading Stephen’s message. In her reply, she included links to the official Church website and directed Stephen on how he could contact local missionaries. With the help of the Church’s online meetinghouse locator, she helped Stephen find the nearest chapel, which was some 9,570 miles away from her own hometown of Alamo, California.
On January 24, 2020, Tonya helped Stephen connect with Elder James Steward and his companion who were full-time missionaries serving in her California ward at the time. Over the course of the next three months, these missionaries would visit Stephen remotely via WhatsApp, sharing with him the message of the restored gospel. They encouraged him to read the Book of Mormon and to attend church regularly.
Because Stephen lives in Nairobi, the responsibility for teaching and preparing Stephen for baptism was assigned by Nairobi Kenya Mission president Khumbulani Mdletshe to sisters Clementine, Fretton, and Dingili—serving in Nairobi as full-time missionaries. They began teaching Stephen the missionary lessons.
Elder Steward—who had kept a meticulous digital record of Stephen’s progress—could not hide his joy when learning that, six months after their virtual encounter, Stephen had committed to baptism. Elder Steward credits this early experience with online teaching—long before it became the norm in his own mission—to “the Lord’s perfect timing”.
On August 23, 2020, Elder Steward—along with Tonya (and some invited members of Tonya’s family)—tuned in on a video call to watch Stephen’s baptism, confirmation, and subsequent ordination to the Aaronic Priesthood under the hand of Bishop Benard Oliech, of the Upper Hill Ward in Nairobi. It is remarkable when contemplating all the realities made possible by modern technology—that during this time of COVID-19, the Lord’s work is still able to proceed. Those present by video at the baptism described a feeling of the Spirit from their different regions of the world. “It’s a modern-day miracle,” Tonya observed.

I love the message Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared about a young man with cancer who asked for a priesthood blessing of healing. However, Elder Bednar told him that to be healed, he needed to have faith not to be healed as well. He said, “[he] needed to overcome, through the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, the ‘natural man’ tendency in all of us to demand impatiently and insist incessantly on the blessings we want and believe we deserve.”2

Olga stared at the picture of the temple hanging on her wall. She sighed. If only her family could go to the temple! But there were no temples close by, and it was too hard to leave her country.
Olga had been baptized years earlier. But then the missionaries were forced to leave the country. Members of the Church weren’t allowed to go to church anymore. They couldn’t even talk to others about their faith.
Olga still kept living the gospel. So did her husband, Jirí. They prayed and read the scriptures. They had home evening and taught their children. On Sundays, they had sacrament meeting in their little apartment. They hung up lots of temple pictures.
And when Olga and her family felt lonely, they remembered that there were thousands of Church members around the world.
One day something exciting happened. President Russell M. Nelson, the Sunday School General President, came to their country to visit. Olga smiled as she shook President Nelson’s hand. Then he made her a special promise. “Sister, one day you will come to the temple.”
Olga’s heart felt warm. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Months passed. Then years. Olga looked longingly at the temple pictures hanging on the walls. Going to the temple seemed impossible!
After four years, Olga and Jirí were invited to go to general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. Olga was worried they wouldn’t be able to go. Things in their country were still difficult. It would take a lot of paperwork to travel. But somehow everything worked out. Olga felt butterflies in her stomach as their plane took off for the United States. It was a miracle!
Olga and Jirí went to conference and listened to the prophet. They got to see Temple Square and go to the visitors’ center. But the best part was going inside the temple!
Dressed in white, Olga felt like she was in heaven as she made special promises with God. She even got to be sealed to Jirí. President Nelson’s promise had come true!
Olga and Jirí returned home. As time passed, things in their country got better. Finally they were able to go to church, and missionaries could teach again.
One day the phone rang. It was President Thomas S. Monson. He called Olga to be matron of the Freiberg Germany Temple. Jirí would be the temple president.
Olga smiled as she stood in her long, white dress inside the Freiberg Temple. The temple had once seemed so far away. But now she could treasure it every day! It was a wonderful dream come true.

And Lorenzo Snow practiced:
“I can fellowship the President of the Church,” he said, “if he does not know everything I know … I saw the … imperfections in [Joseph Smith] … I thanked God that He would put upon a man who had those imperfections the power and authority He placed upon him … for I knew that I myself had weakness, and I thought there was a chance for me … I thanked God that I saw these imperfections.”

I’m grateful that our youth leaders planned a visit to the temple. As we were preparing for this trip to Apia, Samoa, we were happy for this rare opportunity. We joyfully went into the temple to do baptisms for the dead—for those who are in the spirit world waiting for us to find our family history and do work for them.
During baptisms, I saw a young man in our group baptized for Faataga Agavale, my grandfather. I felt tears of joy in my eyes, and I knew his spirit was there. I was very happy we were able to do work for him in the temple.

Recent floods had caused devastation in Kerala. The Kerala flood relief camp was organized by our Bengaluru Stake to provide relief to people in the Wyanad area. I accompanied other Saints of our stake to offer humanitarian aid.
One morning as I was at the relief camp, I read a message on the ward’s WhatsApp group. I felt shocked after reading the message that Brother Michael’s health was in serious condition, and he was taken to his native place, Madurai, Tamil Nadu, for hospitalization. I offered a silent prayer for his health to improve and that I would get an opportunity to visit him. Brother Michael and Sister Rabi were diligent members in attending the regional language Sunday School in our ward.
The very next Sunday after returning from relief work, Brother Karthikeyan approached me and asked me if I would be interested to join with him to visit Brother Michael. I immediately accepted the offer to visit and was so happy. We travelled by train and reached Madurai the next day morning. We then went from the railway station straight away to the Madurai Meenakshi Mission Hospital. Before we reached hospital, we heard his second son, Allwyn, was also admitted in the same hospital in a different ward due to his health problem. The same morning we visited both of these brethren. They were lying on their beds, and Brother Michael’s condition was very critical. He was not able to recognize who we were, and the doctors were not able to let us know his condition. All they told us was that he needed to be in medical observation—which means each part of his body function needed to be observed. We as priesthood brethren administered priesthood blessings with faith to both father and son, and we comforted Sister Rabi and their older son.
We then headed to the train station where we refreshed ourselves at the railway station waiting room, and we headed to visit a nearby place in the local train. While we were halfway there, Brother Karthikeyan told me that we need to head back to the hospital. It was purely an inspiration. We reached the hospital and to our surprise, for we just could not believe our own eyes, Brother Michael had gotten up from his bed and was sitting. What a miracle! He was unable to get up from his bed before, but he was able to now. Our beloved Heavenly Father, through the Holy Spirit, had blessed him.
Now the same day in the evening he was able to recognize who we were, and he spoke to us a few words. I was able to shoot some videos with him, and when I asked him what he would like to convey to our ward members, he showed a “thumbs up” sign and asked me share the videos I recorded of him in the hospital to the regional language Sunday School class members.
Yet another miracle happened with the blessing of the priesthood, and this didn’t end with him. Afterward we visited his son Allwyn. He told us that the doctors wanted him to get discharged the next day, while his health was fine and he had recovered sufficiently to go home.
“Ministering and exercising the priesthood at the right time with faith brings blessings. I believe blessings to others will never stop . . . miracles will never cease.”