Gospel Story Finder

This difficulty of understanding about water recalls the story of a sailing ship that had become disabled in a storm. It drifted aimlessly for many days. The crew and passengers became famished and parched from lack of food and water. Finally another ship came into view. They signaled frantically for water. The other ship replied, “Let down your buckets where you are.” This communication made no sense at all, for they supposed they were far out to sea in typical ocean water. Again the famished ones requested water. Again the signal came, “Let down your buckets where you are.” They could not know that they had drifted into the mouth of a great river and that the water beneath them was fresh and could save their lives. The water of life lay just beneath them, yet they were dying for lack of this knowledge.

It was just an ordinary sacrament meeting. At that moment, Latter-day Saints were sitting in sacrament meetings in thousands of chapels all over the world. But then something happened to make this particular sacrament meeting special.
After the sacrament had been passed, I sat looking around as the bishop got up to speak. There sat the Spillman family. Jane was facing the bishop, but her arm rested across her husband’s back. Her husband, Richard, was holding their new son, Tommy. He looked into the baby’s face as he fed him with a bottle. That’s what drew my attention to Joel, who was ever-so-gently stroking his baby brother’s head.
Spiritual experiences come in many ways. As I looked at the Spillmans, I felt a sense of peace in the room. I began to look around, and I noticed some wonderful things.
Four-year-old Ashley Anderson, who had been sitting with her mother on the front row, came down the aisle to the back row to sit on Brother Deloy Nielsen’s knee. Countless hours of helping in the nursery had made him a “borrowed grandpa” to many little children who loved him.
Testimony bearing started. An elderly couple, whom I had never seen before, sat in the middle of the chapel. He had his arm around her, and their silver heads were bent close together.
A young man got up and quietly showed a young child the way out. It was Gary—Mindy and David’s son. A sweet spirit filled the room as family after family drew close and touched one another spiritually.
Dallas’s little girl sat on his lap. She reached over and hugged him. Toddler Donelle took turns going from Jackie to Wayne for hugs and loves. The chapel, at that moment, was a special place, with a special spirit.
Recently baptized Jared, Kim’s young son, bore his testimony and then sat close to his dad. As more testimonies were shared, members continued to partake of the spirit.
As I sat there, I thought again about the Saints gathered in rooms, rented halls, and chapels all over the world, enjoying the same spirit I was enjoying. Even members like me, sitting alone because loved ones lived elsewhere or had passed away, were not really alone. We were all together for this special time, on an ordinary Sunday, in an ordinary ward, in an ordinary stake of Zion.
Just another sacrament meeting? It all depends on how you look at it.

Imagine putting in that kind of time and effort for an entire year. That’s what Erin Johnson of the McLean Virginia Second Ward did. She got up close and personal with the Mormon pioneers so she could make a presentation for National History Day.
“I read 45 books for the project. I got some of the books from the library, and people loaned some of them to me. I also read journals from ancestors and relatives,” says Erin.
The work didn’t stop when Erin finished reading, though. She then put together a ten-minute dramatic presentation depicting the struggles the pioneers experienced as they crossed the plains.
During that ten minutes, Erin takes the audience through trials on the plains such as a mother burying her small child by the side of the trail, and then on to Utah, where the Saints set up an orderly, productive society.
“Each family member had a job on the trail, even the children,” says Erin in her presentation. She presents a short account of a pioneer child gathering buffalo chips to burn. She points out that everyone’s job was important on the trail—glamorous or not.
All her hard work paid off when Erin won third place in the Junior National competition, as well as a special award in her state division. High praise for a 12-year-old who had to prepare, set up, and perform her presentation with no help from anyone.
“I think it’s important to be well educated and work hard,” says Erin. “I also have a much greater appreciation for my ancestors and what they went through after doing this project.”
Erin says she now also appreciates her own family even more than she did before.
“They’ve helped me a lot,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without their support.”

During the night of 13–14 February 1945, in the waning weeks of World War II, raids by Allied bombers destroyed the central part of Dresden. Somewhere among the rubble lay the chapel of the Altstadt Branch of the Church. It was yet another blow to what was left of the Church in Germany.
As soon as the streets were cleared, members of the bombed-out branch made their way across the only remaining bridge over the Elbe River to meet with members of the Neustadt Branch, whose meeting place had been spared. This chapel, however, was soon converted into a dormitory for hundreds of homeless refugees, so Church members had to meet in two small rooms. The branch consisted mostly of children, young mothers, and older couples. Nearly all of the young and middle-aged men of the branch who had not been killed in the war were still in the German army or in prisoner-of-war camps.
“There was no electricity. … We had to walk two kilometers to get water. … After three days a truck came with bread. … We were permitted to dig the canned goods out of the rubble [of a cannery]. … The young people organized service projects to get food to the older people. We visited the members of the Branch in their homes and held devotionals and firesides. We sat in our meetings in our coats and wrapped in blankets. … We were thankful and full of hope, because we knew the Lord would not forget his people. … It was a time of strong faith and inner harmony” (Letter to the authors from Edith Krause, 21 February 1990).

A few months ago I had an opportunity to take a morning walk on a mountain trail with four of my grandchildren. We each brought a bag so we could collect treasures from nature. As we looked for pieces to put in our collections, we found many different colors, designs, and textures in the leaves and rocks. It was hard to choose. I soon noticed that the children’s bags were filling up. Each leaf the children selected was unique, but because it was late fall, most of the leaves had dark weathered spots, irregular shapes, or faded and discolored parts. Because of this, I was reluctant to add things to my bag. I was looking for a leaf that showed the brightest colors and had no flaws. If it wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t going to treasure it. But this meant that my bag had very little in it.

Later, as I thought about this experience, I realized that I had cheated myself of much delight and happiness that could have been mine. I didn’t appreciate the uniqueness of the objects because I was looking for what I had deemed perfection. My grandchildren had been wiser than I had been. They had savored the odd shapes and spots on the leaves. They giggled at and enjoyed the brittle crispness of the dying leaves, and they delighted in the soft, faded colors. They filled their bags with happy treasures to take home. We can fail to see and enjoy the unique happiness and beauty in each day if we are so focused on our desire for what we want instead of what the Lord has designed for us.

When I was in kindergarten, I had a friend who wasn’t like everybody else. She was mentally disabled, and the other kids made fun of her. I played with this girl, but some of the other kids were mean. Sometimes they even hit her.
One morning I was looking for her and couldn’t find her in the classroom, so I went outside. When I found her, she was eating grass. Some kids had told her it was salad and she should eat it. I was so mad I began to cry. I took the grass out of her mouth and made her feel better. We were good friends after that. Now she goes to a special school and I don’t see her anymore, but I will always remember her.

My father was a man who suggested to his sons that they work early in life. He had a very convincing way of doing that; he would indicate that starting on such-and-such a date, we would begin buying our own clothes and shoes and other personal needs. In this way we were somewhat “pressed into service” to find some kind of a job.
At age 11, I attempted to obtain my first job working as a newspaper boy. I had just turned 11 and was an entire year away from the minimum age of 12 required for being a newspaper boy. It was difficult at first trying to convince the man that someone so young could really be an effective worker, but with the help of my dad, I talked him into giving me a try.
The Lord really blessed me as a young man because I was able to effectively carry out that important job. It was an important job to me for I learned as a young man how to collect and be accountable for money, how to deal with the public, and how to sell newspaper subscriptions. I remember the many contests and prizes that I won as a result of much effort in learning how to persuade people to take subscriptions to the afternoon newspaper I worked for. A tenth of my income was always paid willingly to the Lord as tithing.

During COVID-19 quarantine, Sunday could become too casual at home on our couches and in our comfy clothes. I wanted to do something to make sure Sunday was special. I decided to make my family our own sacrament tray as one of my spiritual goals for the new Children and Youth program.
First, I took a piece of wood and drilled holes in one half for cups. Then I carved out a tray on the other half for the bread. My abuelita helped me sand it until it was perfectly smooth. Then we attached a handle and sealed the wood.
The first Sunday we went to prepare the sacrament and couldn’t find the cups that fit the holes in the tray. We all looked for hours and hours for them. After a while I decided that with or without the perfect cups we were still going to partake of the sacrament. We weren’t going to let this stand in our way of keeping the Sabbath day holy.
That Sunday when we partook of the sacrament, it was with more stillness, intention, and reverence. I felt pleased with the goal I’d set and achieved. I know and could feel that my Heavenly Father was proud of me for my goal and the choices it involved.

My wife, Nancy, is also a convert to the Church. She has mentioned to me many times over the years the joy she has felt in her life since finding, accepting, and living the gospel of Jesus Christ. What follows is a reflection from Sister Maynes on her experience:

“As a young adult in my early 20s, I was at a point in my life when I knew I needed to change something in order to be a happier person. I felt like I was adrift with no real purpose and direction, and I didn’t know where to go to find it. I had always known that Heavenly Father existed and occasionally throughout my life had said prayers, feeling that He listened.

“As I began my search, I attended several different churches but would always fall back into the same feelings and discouragement. I feel very blessed because my prayer for direction and purpose in life was ultimately answered, and the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ was brought into my life. For the first time I felt like I had a purpose, and the plan of happiness brought real joy into my life.”

Four years ago I spoke in this setting about couples serving full-time missions. My prayer was that “the Holy Ghost [would] touch hearts, and somewhere a spouse … [would] quietly nudge his or her companion, and a moment of truth [—a moment of decision—would] occur.” One sister later wrote me about that experience. She said, “We were sitting in the comfort of our family room enjoying conference on television. … As you spoke, my heart was touched so deeply. I looked over at my husband and he looked at me. That moment changed my life forever.”
If you are or will soon be the age of a senior missionary, I come to you this afternoon to witness of the blessings that can change your life forever. Your Heavenly Father needs you. His work, under the direction of our Savior Jesus Christ, needs what you are uniquely prepared to give. Every missionary experience requires faith, sacrifice, and service, and these are always followed by an outpouring of blessings.
As we discuss these blessings, you will naturally consider what I have called the four Fs: fear, family concerns, finding the right mission opportunity, and financial challenges. May I yet add another more important and powerful F—faith. Only through our faith can we heed God’s counsel to “choose ye this day, whom ye will serve”—“to serve the Lord God who made you.” And only through a trial of our faith can we receive the miraculous blessings we seek for ourselves and our families. “For if there be no faith among the children of men God can do no miracle among them; wherefore, he showed not himself until after their faith.”
Allow me to share some of these miraculous blessings from letters and accounts I have received over the past four years. A humble couple from Idaho met fear with faith when the Lord called them to Russia. They wrote the following acceptance letter: “No one would have imagined we would be called to this assignment. We have no idea how we will learn the language or manage to be of service, and although we accept with much trepidation, going completely on faith, we know that the Lord and His prophet know more than we do where we should serve.” Ten months later the Stockholm Sweden Temple welcomed 30 Saints from a small branch in Russia led by this couple from Idaho who had barely begun to learn the Russian language. The scriptures tell us, “God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles.” Thus, God’s work is carried out by His children: “That faith also might increase in the earth. … That the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world.”
Another couple faced family concerns with faith. A faithful sister wrote: “The decision to serve a mission was not hard. But my 90-year-old mother was extremely apprehensive about our leaving. She took great comfort when she heard that our families would be blessed as we serve.” A faithful brother expressed similar concerns about leaving his elderly parents, to which his father responded: “Don’t use your mother and me as an excuse not to go on a mission with your wife. You pray about it and follow the guidance of the Spirit.”
To an earlier generation of missionaries called to leave their families, the Lord offered this reassurance: “And if they will do this in all lowliness of heart, … I, the Lord, give unto them a promise that I will provide for their families.”
Certainly family concerns are real and should not be considered lightly. But we cannot meet our family challenges without the blessings of the Lord; and when we sacrifice to serve as full-time missionary couples, those blessings will flow. For example, one couple worried about leaving their youngest daughter who was no longer active in the Church. Her faithful father wrote: “We prayed for her continually and fasted regularly. Then, during general conference, the Spirit whispered to me, ‘If you will serve, you will not have to worry about your daughter anymore.’ So we met with our bishop. The week after we received our call, she and her boyfriend announced they were engaged. Before we left for Africa, we had a wedding in our home. [Then we gathered our family together and] held a family council. … I bore testimony of the Lord and Joseph Smith … and told them I would like to give each of them a father’s blessing. I started with the oldest son and then his wife and proceeded to the youngest … [including our new son-in-law].”
As we consider couple missionary service, it is appropriate to involve our families in the same way. In family council meetings, we can give our children the opportunity to express their support, offer special assistance we may need, and receive priesthood blessings to sustain them in our absence. Where appropriate, we may be able to receive priesthood blessings from them as well. As the faithful father in this story blessed his family members, his son-in-law felt the influence of the Holy Ghost. The father wrote: “By the end of our first year [the] heart [of our son-in-law] began to soften toward the Church. Just before we returned home from our mission, he and our daughter came to visit us. In his suitcase was the first set of Sunday clothes he had ever owned. They came to Church with us, and after we returned home he was baptized. A year later, they were sealed in the temple.”
Though the details of this story may be unique, the principle is true for all who say to the Lord, “I’ll go where you want me to go.” I testify that as we put our trust in the Lord, He will find the right missionary opportunity for us. As He said, “If any man serve me, him will my Father honour.”
In considering missionary opportunities, many couples throughout the world have an abundant desire to serve but lack abundant means. If this is your situation, remember that the right mission call may not be to a far-off country with a strange sounding name. The right call for you may be within your stake or area. “Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” Counsel with your extended family and your bishop or branch president. As the Lord’s servants understand your temporal situation, you will be able to receive the eternal blessings of full-time missionary service.
If you cannot serve because of serious extenuating circumstances, would you consider making a financial contribution to help those who can? The reasonable sacrifice of your means will not only bless other missionaries and those they serve; it will bless you and your family as well.
Now, to those who were not able to serve a mission in their youth, may I speak directly to you. Perhaps over the years you have been burdened by feelings of regret or felt less than adequate because you did not have a missionary opportunity to serve and grow when you were younger. My advice to you: look forward, not back. Begin preparing for your mission as a senior missionary couple today! Save a little money each month. Study the scriptures. Accept Church callings. Pray to feel the Lord’s love for others and receive His love and confidence in you. You can one day claim all the blessings of missionary service!
And what marvelous blessings they are! After 51 years of marriage, I was asked, “What part of life would you want to live over again?” I did not hesitate to reply, “When my wife and I served together in the great missionary work of the Lord.” The sentiments of another missionary couple echo those of my wife and myself: “Our decision to go on a mission brought new vigor, new emotions, new friends, new places, new challenges. It brought us closer together as husband and wife; we had a common goal and a real partnership. And best of all, it brought new spiritual growth, instead of spiritual retirement.” Brothers and sisters, let us not go into spiritual retirement.
Now, may I extend a challenge to bishops and branch presidents throughout the world? Over the next six months, would it be possible for each of you to consider recommending one or more missionary couples beyond those presently planning to serve? Your greatest resource in meeting this challenge will be those senior members of your ward who have already served missions. In my own ward, an inspired bishop called a special meeting of prospective and returned missionary couples. As we bore our testimonies of sacrifice and service, the Spirit witnessed to us all that a call to serve is indeed a call to “know the richness of [the Lord’s] blessing[s].”
I’ve heard of a stake president who has arranged a senior missionary class to inspire prospective missionary couples and help them prepare to serve. Priesthood leaders, as you prayerfully seek to encourage full-time missionary service, remember that when a couple is called, they not only help accomplish the work of the Lord throughout the world; they plant a seed of service in their families that will blossom for generations to come. I continue to be grateful for the influence of my parents, who served as couple missionaries in England and set an example for their posterity.
Now, to you prospective missionary couples, please do not wait for your bishop to meet with you about serving a mission! Go to him. Share your feelings. Where missionary service is concerned, the Lord expects us to express our desires. As we do, we can trust that the same Spirit that prompts us to seek a mission call will inspire a prophet to call us to the right assignment.
And there are so many calls! There are calls to teach the gospel to those who desire to receive the truth, including to youth in the Church Educational System; calls to work in welfare and humanitarian service; in temples; in family history centers, mission offices, and historic sites; calls to “do the greatest good unto thy fellow beings, and … promote the glory of him who is your Lord.”
Consider these examples: A couple called to India helped a school for blind children build sanitary facilities and acquire braille typewriters. A couple in Hawaii nurtured a little branch of 20 members to 200 and prepared 70 members to attend the temple together. A couple in Peru arranged for medicine and Christmas toys to be provided to 550 children in an orphanage. A couple in Cambodia taught institute classes and gave leadership to a branch which, after only 10 months, grew to 180 members. A couple in Russia helped local farmers increase their yield of potatoes to 11 times that of the state farms, while a couple in the Philippines helped nearly 700 poorly nourished families learn to raise rabbits and cultivate vegetable gardens. A couple in Pennsylvania assisted 60 individuals, half of them members of other faiths, in preparing their family genealogical records. A couple in Ghana helped drill and refurbish wells, bringing water to 190,000 people in villages and refugee camps.
Whether or not the results of every mission are this obvious to mortal eyes, all those who serve make an invaluable contribution in the sight of the Lord, for all “have compassion, making a difference.” Couple missionaries are role models and examples of strength to full-time missionaries and to priesthood and auxiliary leaders throughout the world. I express my gratitude for all these and the thousands of others who are serving in so many capacities, contributing millions of hours in service to their fellow man.
My brothers and sisters, if you have felt stirrings to engage in this work, however quiet those feelings may be, do not procrastinate the day of your service. Now is the time to prepare; now is the time to be called, the time to sacrifice. Now is the time to share your gifts and talents, and now is the time to receive God’s blessings for you and your family. “There is a constant need for more couple missionaries,” President Gordon B. Hinckley has said. As this work rolls forward, that need is increasing. Let us, in our richest years of experience, maturity, wisdom, and most of all, our faith, rise to meet that need as only we can.
We, above all, have special reason to do so. From our life’s experience we can look back and recognize the goodness of our Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ, to us and our families. As one faithful brother explained, “My wife and I would like to serve five missions—one for each of the beautiful children God has blessed us with!” Whatever blessings we have received individually, I testify that we have all received the greatest blessing of all: “God [our Heavenly Father] so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,” and His Son, Jesus Christ, “loveth the world, even that he layeth down his own life.” I bear my special witness that His atoning sacrifice is the ultimate expression of that love.
As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, it is our greatest privilege to return His love through sacrifice and service and claim His holy promise: “And whoso layeth down his life in my cause, for my name’s sake, shall find it again, even life eternal.” That we may do so is my heartfelt prayer, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith sent groups of Latter-day Saints to Missouri to lay the foundation of Zion. It wasn’t long, however, before mobs confronted them. In scenes from Legacy, families arrive in Missouri (1); soon mobs tar and feather some of the Saints (2), storm the printing office (3), attack the Haun’s Mill settlement (4), and finally force the Saints to leave (5).

James and Drusilla Hendricks came to Missouri in 1836. In 1838, James was paralyzed by a bullet. For the next year, Drusilla nursed him, held off the mobs, and did what she could to keep her family alive.

The day came when they ate the last of their food. Then “the conflict began in my mind,” Drusilla wrote. Recalling her parents’ warning that her husband would be killed, she asked herself, “Are you not sorry you did not listen to them?” Answering her own question, she replied, “No I am not. I did what was right. If I die I am glad I was baptized for the remission of my sins, for I have an answer of a good conscience.” Then she heard a still small voice saying, “‘Hold on, for the Lord will provide.’ I said I would, for I would trust in Him and not grumble.”

James survived, though still an invalid, and the family made it to Utah, united in faith and hope (in Kenneth W. Godfrey and others, Women’s Voices: An Untold History of the Latter-day Saints [1982], 96).

I felt so different from everyone my age. Even if I was invited to hang out with friends and my parents encouraged me to go, I struggled to have fun because I felt guilty that my parents had so much to do at home. Other times I would have a hard time enjoying myself when Barbara was struggling with her health. Most of the time, I just wanted a friend to sit down with me and listen.
Sometimes I felt like no one understood what I was going through. But a few things helped remedy that loneliness. I decided I’d try to reach out to people who might be feeling similarly. When I did go to activities or church, I tried to include those who were sitting alone or who looked like they were having a bad day. As Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Miracles occur when we care for each other as He would.”1 And I saw miracles come into my life. I felt much more comfortable going to activities and was happier when I offered love to others.

Another story of priesthood service was told a month ago in a ward sacrament meeting. Again, I was there. In this case, the seasoned Melchizedek Priesthood holder didn’t know as he spoke that he was describing exactly what the Lord desires to happen with strengthened priesthood quorums. Here is the gist of his account:

He and a home teaching companion were assigned to serve seven families. Almost all of them did not want visits. When the home teachers went to their apartments, they refused to answer the door. When they telephoned, they did not get an answer. When they left a message, the call was not returned. This senior companion finally resorted to a letter-writing ministry. He even began to use bright yellow envelopes in the hope of getting a response.

One of the seven families was a less-active single sister who had emigrated from Europe. She had two young children.

After many attempts to contact her, he received a text message. She abruptly informed him that she was too busy to meet with home teachers. She had two jobs and was in the military as well. Her primary job was that of a police officer, and her career goal was to become a detective and then return to her native country and continue her work there.

The home teacher never was able to visit with her in her home. He periodically texted her. Every month he sent a handwritten letter, supplemented with holiday cards for each child.

He received no response. But she knew who her home teachers were, how to contact them, and that they would persist in their priesthood service.

Then one day he received an urgent text from her. She desperately needed help. She did not know who the bishop was, but she did know her home teachers.

In a few days, she had to leave the state for a monthlong military training exercise. She could not take her children with her. Her mother, who was going to care for her children, had just flown to Europe to care for her husband, who had a medical emergency.

This less-active single sister had enough money to buy a ticket to Europe for her youngest child but not for her 12-year-old son, Eric.2 She asked her home teacher if he could find a good LDS family to take Eric into their home for the next 30 days!

The home teacher texted back that he would do his best. He then contacted his priesthood leaders. The bishop, who was the presiding high priest, gave him approval to approach members of the ward council, including the Relief Society president.

The Relief Society president quickly found four good LDS families, with children about Eric’s age, who would take him into their homes for a week at a time. Over the next month, these families fed Eric, found room for him in their already crowded apartments or small homes, took him on their previously planned summer family activities, brought him to church, included him in their family home evenings, and on and on.

The families with boys Eric’s age included him in their deacons quorum meetings and activities. During this 30-day period, Eric was in church every Sunday for the first time in his life.

After his mother came home from her training, Eric continued to attend church, usually with one of these four volunteer LDS families or others who had befriended him, including his mother’s visiting teachers. In time, he was ordained a deacon and began passing the sacrament regularly.

Now let us look into Eric’s future. We will not be surprised if he becomes a leader in the Church in his mother’s home country when his family returns there—all because of Saints who worked together in unity, under the direction of a bishop, to serve out of charity in their hearts and with the power of the Holy Ghost.

I sat at the table in my new apartment and glared at my noodles. It was raining, and it was Monday. I had just gotten the results back from a biology test and was not very pleased with myself. Furthermore, I had tripped in the crowded library as I was running to my next class. Now I was eating the last thing I had in the cupboard—bland noodles.
This is not the college experience I had imagined, I thought. I had pictured myself as a triumphant Joan of Arc figure, out to rid the world of injustice. At the end of my first month away from home, I was feeling like the noodles in my bowl of soup, tangled and limp. I was just one in a sea of thousands of college students, and I could not help but feel a little alone.
“Package!” my roommate yelled as she came in with the mail. I looked up to see a brown box flying across the kitchen.
Someone is sending me a package? It wasn’t my birthday. I curiously opened the package and found a note and a small rectangular object wrapped in one layer of colorful paper and then wrapped with a solid layer of tape. I read the note first. Written in 10-year-old cursive, the note read, “I hope you will enjoy your present. This is a short letter, but I miss you. Love, Maria.” As if on second thought, “Maria” had been crossed out several times and the “anonymous” sender instead had carefully drawn a heart with a question mark inside. I unwrapped the colorful rectangle and found a candy bar—my favorite kind.
I sat at the table and studied the note, realizing that I wasn’t just another face. Far away from my college dorm room, I had a sister who knew who I was, who missed me, and who loved me. She cared how I was feeling and sent me a reminder that I was important.
She now became a reminder to me of the power of service. This simple, thoughtful act had changed my entire attitude that afternoon and had a tremendous impact on my week. As I sat at the table, her example spoke of the blessings that come to both the doers and the receivers of service. I felt loved, and my sister was coming to know the Savior.

While presiding over the Mexico City North Mission in the late seventies, we decided to open the work in an area called the Huasteca, where there was only one Latter-day Saint family in a vast area with several communities and small cities. After two years, there were 500 members of the Church in five branches and an organized district. This was done by a handful of nineteen- and twenty-year-old faithful missionaries and two wonderful couples, who gave of themselves to see that others of Heavenly Father’s children might know and understand.
After the missionaries had been in the Huasteca for about three weeks, we received a phone call from one of them, and we could tell that he was slightly discouraged, not having yet received any mail, being in a hot area with high humidity, and learning about a culture that was new to all of us. After we had talked for a minute or two, I reminded him that we had talked about the fact that it wouldn’t be easy. He said, “Oh, that’s right, President; that’s right. It wouldn’t be easy. I knew it wouldn’t be easy.” Well, he went ahead with great enthusiasm and concluded his very successful work there and was released to return home.
A couple of months later, while he was at BYU, he and some of his former companions called Sister Dickson and me at the mission home in Mexico City at 2:30 in the morning, waking us from a very sound sleep. After a short conversation, I mentioned the fact that it was wonderful to talk with them but that it seemed a little late at night to be calling. He said, “I know, President, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

As a first-time mother of a small and precocious boy, I sometimes feel my life consists of little more than diaper changes and feeding schedules.
While adjusting to motherhood, I found myself ignoring my spiritual needs. Instead of reading the scriptures, I would usually sneak in a much-needed nap or one more load of laundry. Prayers were simply hurried pleas to my Father in Heaven for my son to fall asleep and stay asleep, or for help to just make it through the day.
When my son was around four months old, I realized how depleted my spirit had become. My desire to strengthen my testimony was waning. I didn’t feel like sitting through all three hours of church, and other responsibilities at home and at church seemed like things I didn’t have time or energy for. I wanted to feel the light of the gospel again, but I was exhausted and didn’t know where to begin. One night I fervently prayed for help.
The next morning, I dragged myself to church. While listening to the lesson in Relief Society, I saw a poster illustrating the purpose of Relief Society. I had seen the poster every Sunday, but I had never internalized its message before. It states that the purpose of Relief Society is to help sisters “increase faith and personal righteousness, strengthen families and home, and seek out and help those in need.”
I read it again. This time my mind focused on “increase faith and personal righteousness.” It became clear that before I could fulfill my Church callings and serve others effectively, I needed to tend to my own spiritual health. I started by setting time aside each day to read the scriptures. I also worked on being more thoughtful when I prayed.
As I began to nourish my own faith and personal righteousness and seek guidance from Heavenly Father, I felt my love for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ reignite. Serving in callings, visiting my Relief Society sisters, and partaking of the sacrament each week became meaningful in my life again. And the things I once viewed as having no time and energy for have now become a comfort and strength to me and my family.

The Liahona Ward of Nuku’alofa, Tonga, held a highly successful youth conference. The group started in the evening with a Book of Mormon nonstop reading marathon which ended the next morning bright and early. After going home for a break and a chance to freshen up, they reassembled that afternoon for workshops. The girls attended a workshop to learn more about electrical things while the boys attended a workshop on baby care. It was a good thing the stuffed animals they practiced diapering couldn’t complain. They also had some experience with the native art of kato weaving and writing letters to ward missionaries. Then they were ready for mud volleyball. The leaders had plowed the courtyard and added 900 gallons (3,406 liters) of water.
Also included in the youth conference was a sunrise testimony meeting on the temple grounds, an evening talent show, and a dinner dance with parents serving.

I was studying speech pathology at Mississippi University for Women five years ago. During the year I had looked for a church I could believe in. I had not found one.
One day some friends and I discussed the destination of the spirit after death. Theories were suggested. I had heard one thing about Mormons: they believed in three heavens, and they all went to one of them. As I laughingly related this knowledge a girl spoke up, “That isn’t exactly true.” Attention was directed to her, and I asked, “How do you know?” (I was surprised someone had spoken with conviction.) She answered, “I’m a Mormon.”
For a month I visited my new friend’s home and listened to the flannelboard discussions. The first vision of the Prophet Joseph was a little difficult to accept; also, I had a question about the day of the Sabbath. But the absolutely logical account of the apostasy and the restoration could not be disputed as far as I was concerned.
Still, I held back until one Sunday night after sacrament meeting when the missionaries suggested I be baptized at 9:00 A.M. the next day! The suggestion was made in front of several members. They were smiling encouragingly and I said, after a moment’s thought, “All right.” (How could I refuse with so many people caring?)
Having made the decision, I informed the Lord that Sunday night of my plans. I asked him to give me some indication that I was making the right move. Nevertheless, I told him if I received nothing, I would still be baptized.
Very quietly, instantly, definitely, two scriptures came to my mind: “Ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you” (Acts 1:8), and “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35). I was satisfied and slept peacefully.
That Monday morning as I was brought from the water, I felt as if I had been on a long, wearisome journey and had at last come home. My own conviction of the authenticity of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has grown since that time. Now I add my testimony to those of faithful Saints throughout the world.

Receiving my mission call was one of the most profound and glorious moments of my life. I had thought about a mission many times since gaining a testimony of the gospel at age 18. I remember when I received my call to serve in the Taiwan Taichung Mission, I knew that it was right, and I was so excited to serve.
I read my scriptures daily, attended my missionary and temple preparation classes, and even attempted to learn Mandarin Chinese on my own. As the only child in my family, I knew that my mission would bring honor not only to myself but also to my parents and my Heavenly Father. The day I entered the missionary training center (MTC), I felt as if nothing could ever go wrong during the next 18 months. I was excited about everything from seeing baptisms to trying the Taiwanese cooking I had heard so much about. Little did I know when I entered the MTC that my mission would be very different from what I had expected.
About four months into my mission, I began to experience pain—not only during physical activities like riding my bike or morning exercise but also when I was sleeping or doing personal study. I began rapidly losing weight. Even drinking water made me sick. Doctors’ tests could not determine what was wrong with me. I had no parasites or viruses. My mission president, my missionary companion, and I were all confused by my deteriorating health.
During the month that followed, I maintained faith that surprised even me. Although I felt frustrated, I was convinced that if I kept working harder, biking faster, and speaking my broken Chinese to everyone I saw, that God would miraculously heal me. I believed the stories of Christ’s healing the sick and raising the dead, and I believed wholeheartedly that He would do the same for me—a weak but enthusiastic missionary. Then one Sunday while my companion and I were biking to the Church meetinghouse to meet an investigator, the pain and convulsions throughout my body became unbearable. When we arrived at the meetinghouse, I asked the elders to give me a blessing, which helped. As the days passed, priesthood blessings became more frequent and so did prayers for healing.
It was the darkest day of my mission when I awoke one morning in the fiery Taiwanese heat and realized that I could not even move my body enough to get out of bed. At that moment I knew that I would not be able to be a missionary for much longer. My mission president came to visit me, and we counseled together. We talked of all the possibilities, and after much prayer and many tears, the Spirit confirmed that I needed to return home and focus on getting well.
Instead of coming home to balloons and “Welcome Home” signs, I was wheeled off the plane to my frightened parents, who immediately took me to the hospital emergency room. Months of testing began, but the doctors could not find what was wrong with me. In addition, well-intentioned people around me said things like, “When are you going back out?” “Are you going to stay home?” “Maybe you were supposed to get married.” “Maybe you were wrong to go at all.”
I felt ashamed and confused. Was I worthy of God’s love? Why was this happening when I had served so diligently? Wasn’t I a good missionary? Was God listening to me? Would my peers accept my “flawed” missionary service?
Over the next six months, I struggled with my testimony, which I felt guilty about. I wondered if I had fallen from grace and if Heavenly Father really loved me. Though I gradually began to feel a little better, I didn’t feel like I had before my mission. And I still found myself avoiding moving on with my life.
Then one evening my good friend and I were talking. He too had experienced the pain and sorrow of coming home early from his mission because of illness and was working toward returning to the mission field. I remember that night was the first time in six months I had felt true peace. The voice of the Spirit whispered to me, “You need to go back.” I was so relieved to finally know in which direction to move. I went to see my bishop the following day. Then I wrote a fervent letter to the Missionary Department asking if I could return to the mission field. My request was granted, and one month later I was again wearing my name tag.
Six months later, however, I began experiencing the same health problems over again. I remember lying in a hospital bed, delirious from hours of tests and injections. I couldn’t believe this was happening. This time I knew my mission was over. With tears of disappointment and regret streaming down my face, I listened to my wise mission president say: “Sister Romanello, you loved the Lord two times as much, because you came back.” I felt so much comfort from his words. This time as I boarded the plane home, I promised my Heavenly Father I would remain faithful even if I didn’t receive answers.
It has now been a little more than two years since I returned home. I still have lingering problems, and my stamina and energy have not been the same since before I served my mission. The doctors have never figured out what is wrong with me. It has not been easy for me to be a returned missionary who did not get to serve the full length of my mission. Nevertheless, I still love every one of my sweet converts. It has taken time for me to feel validated and know that my shortened missionary service had value just as 18- or 24-month missions have value to other missionaries.
The Lord has given me many opportunities to talk to others who have faced the trauma of returning home unexpectedly. I know Heavenly Father has led me to them to share my testimony and help them realize that returning home early because of health problems is not a flaw to be kept a secret but an experience to be discussed.
The first time I returned home, I experienced how it felt to neglect my faith, but the second time I returned, I experienced what it was like to stay true. I kept to the basics: studying the scriptures, attending institute, participating in church, and fulfilling my callings. I prayed many times to know why everything happened the way it did. I stopped blaming myself, and I stopped blaming Heavenly Father. As I look at my life since returning home and my visits with my Chinese brothers and sisters who live in my home city, I maintain the firm position that there has been an eternal purpose to it all.
I love the words in Mosiah 5:15: “Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works, that Christ, the Lord God Omnipotent, may seal you his, that you may be brought to heaven, that ye may have everlasting salvation and eternal life, through the wisdom, and power, and justice, and mercy of him who created all things, in heaven and in earth, who is God above all.”
I believe that if I continue living my life in dedication to the Lord, I will be forever blessed. In that way, I know I was healed through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, for although my body could not be 100 percent healed physically, my heart has never been more whole or ready to serve the cause of the Master.

At that time the small group of Saints was officially organized as the Jerusalem Branch, President Cannon calling for the sustaining votes. Brother Galbraith was set apart as branch president by President Lee, and Elder Hinckley set me apart as first counselor. I have received numerous blessings in the Church at the hands of the priesthood but none so inspiring as that given to me on this occasion. Elder Hinckley’s words concerning matters that he could not have known without revelation from the Lord, and the subsequent fulfillment of two specific promises given in that blessing, are additional evidence of the Spirit that guides the leaders of the Church.
I made a deliberate attempt to gain some idea of the reaction of the brethren when the call was made for sustaining votes, and hence looked in President Lee’s direction. I have often sat in conferences of the Church and raised my hand to sustain the prophet of the Lord. But this was the first time I had ever witnessed a prophet raising his hand to sustain me. It was something I’ll never forget, something which, embedded in my memory, will remind me of my responsibilities if ever I hesitate to do that which the Lord requires of me.