Gospel Story Finder

Heather told us about a time she had been invited to a party with the “popular” people of the school. As she walked in the door, the music that was blasting through the house hit her spirit. She felt sick inside. Then friends started disappearing into darkened rooms. Heather said: “At the party I soon realized I had to make a choice: either these people or my standards. I couldn’t have both. I knew I did not want the words I was hearing or the movie scenes to contaminate my thoughts, no matter how popular these people were. I knew I did not belong there. As I was waiting for my mother to come and get me, I looked out the window in the darkened night, and there shining on the hill like a beacon was the temple. It was like the Lord was reassuring me that I was doing the right thing” (used by permission; name has been changed).

I once asked Dad if I would see an angel. He said that he didn’t know, but he hoped so. “They’re all around us, you know.”
Well, I saw one last Sunday, I think.
Before I tell you about it, though, I need to explain something. Sometimes Sundays are hard for me. I don’t understand much of what happens in sacrament meetings. And since my feet don’t touch the floor, my legs hurt from hanging over the bench. I think parents ought to sit on giant chairs every week, dangling their legs above the ground while listening to someone speaking in a foreign language, so that they understand what it’s like.
Last Sunday was hard. Sacrament meeting had seemed extra long, and the baby behind us cried a lot. By the time I got to Sharing Time, I just wanted to go home to my pet caterpillar, Zipper. Jimmy Pasko and Fred Grey didn’t help, either. They kept talking to me about the movie they had seen on Saturday. It sounded a lot more interesting than Sharing Time.
I kept moving around on my chair, trying to get my legs to quit hurting. Finally I leaned my chair back against the wall and stretched my arms. It was an accident, but I hit the light switch, and all the lights turned off. A lot of the kids laughed. I quickly turned the lights back on. Then, for some reason, I turned them off again—but that time it was on purpose.
That’s when the angel came. I didn’t think she was an angel at first. She looked more like an upset Sister Eisen of the Primary presidency. She came from the front of the room, staring at me with wide blue eyes. She looked like Mom does when she has a headache and I’m pestering her.
Sister Eisen bent down and whispered, “Dan, let’s go outside for a moment.”
I thought she would talk to me about being reverent and threaten to get my parents if I didn’t behave. But instead, after we left the room, she calmly asked, “Dan, how are you doing?”
I didn’t feel safe, so I shrugged my shoulders.
“Having a hard time today?” she asked then, still calm.
Feeling safer, I said, “I hate it in there. Sometimes I just hate Primary.” After I said it, I thought I had made a mistake. I was sure she would talk to me about my attitude.
But she surprised me. She said, “Tell me why you hate it.”
I thought for a moment, then decided to tell her the complete truth. “My legs hurt from dangling over the seat in sacrament meeting, I didn’t understand what the speakers said, my chair is hard, it’s hot and noisy in the Primary room, I’m tired of sitting, Jimmy and Fred keep talking to me, and I wish I were somewhere else.”
Then she said, half smiling, “I know. Sometimes I wish I were somewhere else, too. So, what do you need to do, Dan?”
“I just need to walk around.”
“Do you need a drink?”
I thought for a second, then said, “No, not now. Just a walk.”
“How far?”
“Just to the end of the hall.”
She said, “OK. May I walk with you?”
“Sure,” I said. We started walking, but I stopped. I looked at her and said, “Sometimes you hate it here, too?”
“Well,” she answered, “Let’s say that sometimes I have a hard time being here.”
“Then why are you here? You’re a grown-up. No one makes you come.”
“Because,” she said, “it’s OK to do something we don’t like, especially when we know that it’s right.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked at me for a moment. “Dan, do you remember what happened at the end of Jesus’ life?”
“You mean when they nailed him on the cross?”
“Yes. And even before that—do you remember when he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane and it was so painful that he bled from every pore?”
I told her I remembered that and also that they whipped him and made fun of him.
She then said, “You know, I don’t think he liked doing any of those things. But he did it because he loved us and he knew it was right. Did you know he even asked Heavenly Father if there wasn’t another way?”
She paused, putting her hand on my shoulder. “So I figure that if he didn’t like doing hard things that were right, it’s OK if I don’t like doing hard things that are right. And it’s OK if you don’t like doing hard things, like being reverent in Sharing Time when you’re hot and tired.”
I noticed as she was talking that she kept putting her fingers on the side of her head. So I asked, “Is it hard for you today?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have a bad headache.”
I stood there for a moment, feeling very different than I had ever felt about Primary. I looked at Sister Eisen and said, “I don’t think I need to walk any farther. I can go back in now.”
She told me she was glad, and we returned. Before we went in, she said, “You know, Dan, I really like you.”
I told her that most people did after they knew me.
She went to the front of the Primary room, and I sat down in my chair. After she sat down, she looked at me and smiled. Then she touched her fingers to both sides of her head, like Mom does when she has a headache, and winked.
Although my chair still felt hard, the room was still too hot, and Jimmy and Fred still kept trying to talk to me, I didn’t mind so much. I wondered as I watched Sister Eisen if Dad had been talking about her when he said that angels are all around us. I think I’ll tell him that I saw one last Sunday—and that she had a headache.

My grandfather used to graze his cattle each summer in the beautiful, lush, high mountain valleys east of our town in central Utah. However, the cattle craved and needed supplemental nutrients from licking rock salt. The rock salt came from a salt mine some distance away. Grandfather replenished the salt at the salt licks by putting a packsaddle on a sturdy horse and filling the packsaddle with rock salt. I called the packhorse Slowpoke for good reason. Grandfather put me on Slowpoke with the saddle loaded with rock salt. He gave me the reins so I could guide the horse up the mountain following Grandfather on his horse.
My horse Slowpoke was slow, but I didn’t push him because he carried such a heavy load. It took a full day to ride up the mountain to the salt licks and to unload the rock salt from the pack animal. As the day got warmer, my sweaty legs would sting as they rubbed against the lumps of rock salt in the packsaddle. It was a joy when we crossed a stream and I could get off the horse and get rid of the sting by washing and drying my legs.
Grandfather would sing most of the day. Mostly he sang the songs of Zion. But one song he sang that impressed me greatly was “Show me your companions, and I will tell you what you are.” Looking back on it, taking salt to the mountain valley was an enjoyable experience, while the additional nutrients from the rock salt fortified the cattle.

“Boy, I’ll bet you’re glad that your sister’s getting married tomorrow!” With all the fussing over Christine’s temple wedding and reception, and finding himself in everyone’s way most of the time, Jason had to agree with his friend Randy. He was glad that the wedding was tomorrow! As he tossed the baseball idly back to Randy, he said, “Well, at least I won’t have to stand in line anymore to use the bathroom. She’s always in there taking a bath or doing something to her face.”
“Yeah, sisters can make life miserable,” Randy agreed. “Even mine, and she’s only two years old!”
The boys called it quits on the game of catch and found a seat on the back porch steps.
“Remember that game we played in the mud last summer?” Jason asked. “Lucky for me, I got home before my folks saw me. But who do you think I found in the bathroom? Christine! It smelled like a perfume factory in there! Phew!”
Randy frowned. “I bet she told on you, too, didn’t she?”
“Well, … no.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I guess she didn’t,” Jason said with a shrug. “At least Mom and Dad never said a word when—”
Before Jason could finish, two of Christine’s girlfriends, her bridesmaids for the reception, came out the back door, down the steps, and drove away in their car.
“Don’t girls ever stop giggling?” Randy complained. “I guess you’ve heard a lot of that in your house.”
“Yeah.” Jason sighed. “Sometimes when Christine had friends over, I’d go to my room just to get some peace and quiet. All they ever did was eat pizza and talk about boys! Yuck!” Jason kicked a stone off the step below, then added thoughtfully,
“But she always saved me some pizza.”
“Who?”
“My sister.”
“Oh.”
The two friends silently watched a robin working on a worm in the grass.
“Hey! Just think!” Randy shouted. “Now you’ll have a new sitter when your folks go out.”
“So?”
“Well, didn’t you always tell me that your sister gave you a hard time when she stayed with you, making you go to bed at the same time, even when it wasn’t a school night?”
Jason remembered the many times that Christine had watched him. “Yeah. Nine o’clock, even on weekends!” Then he remembered something else. “Nine o’clock without fail except for that night last year when we had the bad storm and the lights went out.”
Randy elbowed his friend. “She made you go to bed earlier, right?”
“Well, … no,” Jason admitted. He smiled a little. “Christine got out our sleeping bags and flashlights, made some sandwiches, and turned on her portable radio. We camped out in the living room.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah! It was neat!”
“Neat, huh?” Randy teased. “OK. I guess you forgot the Halloween when she made the costume that made you a laughingstock!”
Jason stopped smiling. That was a Halloween that he’d never forget! Christine had volunteered to make him a costume in her home economics class at school. Jason was supposed to be a plain old pirate. But Christine outdid herself and added so much ribbon and lace and so many sequins that Jason ended up looking more like a gypsy than a pirate.
“Ha! You really looked funny!” Randy laughed, wagging a finger at Jason.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jason admitted, his face getting hot and red. He didn’t like remembering that terrible night! “If it hadn’t been for that lousy costume, those big guys from Willow Street would have left me alone and not taken my whole bag of candy.”
But Jason also remembered how Christine had gotten angry—not at him, but at the bullies who’d stolen his candy. “Let’s go!” she had ordered, grabbing Jason by the arm, then spending two more hours in their rainy neighborhood with him, watching and waiting as Jason refilled his treat bag.
“Boy, she’s some sister,” Randy said in a tone of disgust.
“Yeah, she sure is,” Jason agreed quietly. He got up, adding, “And tomorrow’s the wedding. This is my last chance to really tell her what I think of her.”
Jason marched straight to Christine’s bedroom, took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Come on in,” Christine called. She was setting her hair, stretching and pulling strands of it over prickly tubes. “Hi, Jase!” she said cheerfully. “What’s up?”
The room was filled with clouds of Christine’s perfume. Jason almost forgot what he wanted to say as he stared at the billowing, white gown that hung on her closet door.
Christine looked at him in the mirror. “Is something wrong?” she asked, putting down her brush and turning to her little brother.
“I—I—” he stammered, blushing. “I just wanted to tell you something,” Jason managed to say very quickly. Standing as tall as possible, he took a deep breath and let it out: “Christine, I love you, and I’m gonna miss you!”
Christine smiled and put her arms around Jason. “Oh, Jase,” she said softly. “I love you too.” Then she laughed a little. “And I’m going to miss you, too.”
Jason hugged her back. “I know,” he said. “But I guess you’ll be coming back to visit.”
“Of course I will,” Christine promised.
Jason grinned. “Good. Because I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
Christine laughed again. “You’ll manage.”

May I offer counsel of a general nature, first with comments about General Authorities. We recognize them as instruments in the hand of the Lord, yet realize that they are ordinary human beings. They require haircuts, laundry services, and occasional reminders just like anyone else. President Benson once shared with us a story to illustrate. He said:
“Orson F. Whitney … was a great man to concentrate. One day when he was traveling by train, he was so preoccupied that he did not notice the train pass the station where he was to get off. So he had to [be driven] back to where he should have been. Meanwhile the stake president waited and waited. … Finally when he decided that something had more than likely happened to Brother Whitney and he was not going to make it, they commenced the meeting. As Elder Whitney approached, he was greeted by the opening hymn, which was ‘Ye Simple Souls Who Stray.’”
We honor such a man because of his extraordinary calling. His official acts are valid on earth and in heaven. Well do I remember the first time I met one of the General Authorities. It was a feeling beyond description. Though I was but a boy, immediately—almost instinctively—I rose to my feet. Even now I feel that same way when one of the Brethren enters the room. A General Authority is an oracle of God.

Julia Awashish, a 17-year-old Native American from Quebec City, agrees with Marc. “We need to always remember the covenants we made at baptism,” she says. “The promises we have made to our Heavenly Father are the things that make us strong as members of the Church. It’s been six years since I joined the Church. I’m glad my mother and I joined, because it helps me so much when I have a problem to deal with, and it helps me to remember to be happy, because the gospel is a message of joy.”
Julia says that when she and her mother returned to visit relatives in their village of Obedjiwan, which is far to the north of Quebec, at first “there was a lot of gossip about us being Latter-day Saints. But now everyone has seen by our example that we are friendly, normal people, so they accept us just fine.”

Ephraim Hanks is a remarkable example of a young man’s obedience to spiritual promptings. In the fall of 1856, after he had gone to bed, he heard a voice say to him, “The handcart people are in trouble and you are wanted; will you go and help them?” Without any hesitation he answered, “Yes, I will go if I am called.”
He rode quickly from Draper to Salt Lake City. As he arrived he heard the call for volunteers to help the last handcart companies come into the valley. Eph jumped up and said, “I am ready now!” He was as good as his word, leaving at once and alone.
A terrific storm broke as he took his wagon eastward over the mountains. It lasted three days, and the snow was so deep that it was impossible to move the wagons through it. So Eph decided he would go on horseback. He took two horses, one to ride and one to pack, and picked his way carefully through the snow to the mountains. Dusk came as he made his lonely camp at South Pass. As he was about to lie down he thought about the hungry Saints and instinctively asked the Lord to send him a buffalo. As he opened his eyes at the end of his prayer, he was startled at the sight of a buffalo standing barely 50 yards away. He took aim, and one shot sent the animal rolling down into the hollow where he was encamped.
Early next morning, he took the two horses and the buffalo meat and reached Ice Springs Bench. There he shot another buffalo, even though it was rare to find buffalo in this area this late in the season. After he had cut the meat into long strips, he loaded up his horses and resumed his journey. And now I quote from Eph’s own narrative:
“I think the sun was about an hour high in the west when I spied something in the distance that looked like a black streak in the snow. As I got near to it, I perceived it moved; then I was satisfied that this was the long looked for handcart company, led by Captain Edward Martin. … When they saw me coming, they hailed me with joy inexpressible, and when they further beheld the supply of fresh meat I brought into camp, their gratitude knew no bounds. Flocking around me, one would say, ‘Oh, please, give me a small piece of meat;’ another would exclaim, ‘My poor children are starving, do give me a little;’ and children with tears in their eyes would call out, ‘Give me some, give me some.’ … Five minutes later both my horses had been released of their extra burden—the meat was all gone, and the next few hours found the people in camp busily engaged in cooking and eating it, with thankful hearts.”
Certainly Ephraim Hanks’s obedience to spiritual promptings led him to become a vanguard hero as he forged ahead alone through that devastating winter weather to preserve many pioneer lives. Because he listened to the whisperings of the Spirit and obeyed the counsel of the Brethren, Eph became a notable liberating force in the lives of those desperate, struggling pioneers.

Before she found the gospel, A. Munkhsaihan saw the world as a dark place with little hope. Finding faith and hope through the gospel changed the world for her.

In the years before 1990, she taught Russian. But when the political and cultural climate of Mongolia changed, she found that she needed to learn English so she could teach it. Munkhsaihan studied English for a year with Latter-day Saint missionaries. Before listening to the missionary discussions, she determined that she would examine their faith carefully. She found their religion was more than a faith based on true principles—it was a way of life. She was baptized and confirmed in June 2000, and the rest of her family joined the Church a month later. Now she sees the world as a much brighter place for her, her children, and her grandchildren. Currently, she serves as president of the Relief Society in the Ulaanbaatar district.

After the gospel changed her own life, Munkhsaihan wondered what would happen if she applied its principles in her work as a teacher. She began trying consciously to love all her students—and with some that was difficult. She began to pray for her students. Interestingly, she found herself changing; she developed a greater capacity to love them. Even though the students did not know she was praying for them, their attitudes toward her changed as well.

“As we exercise faith in the gospel, we can change ourselves,” she says.

And this, her experience suggests, is how the gospel may change Mongolia. As members change themselves through faith in Jesus Christ, they will change the world around them.

Image from Getty Images
Christmas wasn’t Christmas. Although I tried to be merry with carols playing in the background, I pulled out the storage bins with a heavy heart. The snowman cookie jar only reminded me that there was no one to bake with. The Santa figurine seemed to say that there was little reason to hang stockings, and the peppermint-striped wrapping paper reminded me that morning wouldn’t bring the voices of excited children.
This year our youngest had left for college, and our house felt lonely and quiet. I chose only the non-Santa type decorations and placed everything else back in their boxes.
With my husband out of town, I decorated the tree alone. My daughter-in-law posted pictures online of my grandchildren hanging ornaments on their tree, and my heart yearned for yesterday. I wondered how time had slipped by so quickly. How had my children grow so fast? Lost in my thoughts, I looked down at the light bulb in my hand. It was a single red bulb.
I examined the color, a deep red. Crimson. I looked around at the simplicity of what was left of the decorations: a few nativities, a manger built from popsicle sticks, and a decoration that spelled out NOEL in gold letters. My eyes were wet. The bulb was red—red like the atoning blood of the Savior.
I thought about how I had always equated decorations, cookie cutouts, and children’s glee on Christmas morning with what made me happy at Christmastime. Then I thought about my children and their eternal families. I thought about all the joy I had in my family and the joy they had in their own. I pondered how the babe lying in the manger made that possible. A sweetness of warmth sprung in my heart as I contemplated the gift of the Savior—not just for me but for all mankind.
“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people” (Luke 2:10; emphasis added).
As I continued decorating the tree, I meditated on the humble birth and life of Jesus Christ. He came to mend the broken, build the downtrodden, comfort the lonely, bring peace in imperfection, and give compassion for suffering. He was born and died that we might live with Him in our Father’s kingdom once more. He came that man might know true happiness. My heart swelled and I found joy in Christ because Christ is Christmas.

Lindsay felt nervous as she looked around the hospital room. She knew that soon someone would come to take her to the operating room for surgery. Mom and Dad stood close to her bed.
A few days before, Lindsay’s family had had a special family home evening. Mom gave a lesson about priesthood blessings. Then each member of the family told about a time when he or she was blessed by the power of the priesthood. Lindsay felt peaceful and happy as she listened to their testimonies. Mom explained that the peaceful feeling was the Holy Ghost telling Lindsay that what she was hearing was true.
At the end of the lesson, Lindsay’s older brother, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, put a drop of consecrated oil on her head and said a prayer. Then Dad gave her a wonderful blessing. He said that Heavenly Father knew and loved her. He said that the doctors would be blessed in their work and that the surgery would go well. He also promised that Lindsay would have a special feeling of comfort and peace that would replace her fears.
Waiting in the hospital, Lindsay tried to be brave, but tears slowly leaked from the corners of her eyes. Two men in hospital clothes came into her room and said it was time for the surgery. They were kind as they tried to cheer her up, but still Lindsay’s fear did not go away.
Lindsay hugged Mom and Dad from her bed. Then one of the men pulled up the railing on her bed so she would be safe as they wheeled her down the hall. As Lindsay turned to see what he was doing, she saw a familiar silver ring on his finger. A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart as she saw the letters CTR on the ring. Lindsay smiled as her fears slipped away. She knew that everything was going to be fine.

One day, I was playing at a friend’s house. He took me to the next-door neighbor’s, and we destroyed some of his flowers.
The next day, my mom found out from the neighbor, an elderly man who lives alone after his wife died, what we had done. She told us that it was very wrong to do that. She told me that I had to make things better. She called it repentance.
She helped me write a letter to the man, apologizing for destroying his flowers. We also made him some banana bread. Then she told me that I had to take it to him. I was very scared, so my mom came with me.
When the man answered the door, I said that I was sorry and gave him the letter and banana bread. He was very surprised and happy that I had come. I felt very good after that.
My mom taught me a good lesson about how I must repent, no matter how hard it is, when I do something wrong.
Kye Heimonen, age 5Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, Canada

Rebecca and Joshua’s father, Curtis, was the branch mission leader, and he had gospel discussions with Chris. “He told me he wanted his family to be happier and to be able to have the same things in common with them.”
“I wanted to share the gospel with my family, but it was tough because my family never went to church,” Chris says. “They really didn’t have time.”
But they did see Chris’s example after he was baptized.
“When the missionaries were at our house, I didn’t really pay attention,” says Chris’s stepfather, Terrance. “But as time went on, Chris was baptized, and I saw a lot of changes in him. He seemed to care more and respect everybody a lot more. So my wife and I decided to check out the Church.”
Chris was surprised by his family’s sudden interest. “When the missionaries told me they were coming to my house to teach my family, I didn’t know if my family would be OK with that,” he says. “Then the missionaries told me that my parents invited them over, and I thought that was pretty cool.”
Chris’s parents had a great experience going to church, and as they learned more, they grew closer as a family.
“When I started going to church, I really liked it,” says Chris’s mother, Anita. “I was very interested. Most people were there as a family, and I’ve learned to be more unified with my family.”
“After seeing the changes in Chris and enjoying church—everybody was friendly, everybody wanted to get to know you and all that—the whole family ended up getting baptized,” Terrance says. “Since joining the Church, we’ve realized family is forever. What you make of your family is what counts in life, and Jesus and Heavenly Father help you unite as a family forever.”
Chris understands why we all need to invite others to come unto Christ.
“It’s important because you want to help as many people as you can to be saved,” Chris says. “It’s good to bring people to God. If Rebecca and Joshua’s family hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be here right now. I know Jesus Christ put them in my life, and I’m so blessed that I’ve been brought into the gospel and that I could share it with my family.”
Sometimes inviting your family and friends to come unto Christ is as easy as being a good example for them.
“Chris invited us to church not by directly asking us, but he did more by the way his reactions were in life,” Terrance says. “He showed how much enjoyment church brought. He showed what being in church can do for you, how it can change you, make you better, and help you with what’s going on in life. Chris was our wake-up call from the Lord.”

Baptized at age 15, Chen Hsin Shun learned early to exercise his faith during economic challenges and to make sacrifices for the Church. While he was preparing to serve a mission, his family’s business failed and his father asked him to help support the family. He told his father, “Trust my God for three months, and see if He doesn’t bless the family while I’m on a mission.” His father agreed to try the experiment, and Elder Chen prayed diligently for blessings. About a month and a half into his mission, he received a letter from his father saying he wouldn’t need to come back early because the family’s business had signed a lucrative 10-year contract. Today Brother Chen serves as a high councilor in the Kaohsiung stake.

The Aruban sun beat down relentlessly, its heat reflecting off the paved asphalt roads. Drenched in sweat and our spirits flagging, my companion and I had spent hours tracting under the unforgiving sun. After many rejections that day, our once-optimistic smiles had wilted. Discouragement gnawed at our resolve.
“Maybe we should call it a day,” I suggested, my voice laced with exhaustion. “Nobody here wants our gospel message.”
My companion nodded in agreement, his shoulders slumping. “Let’s get out of here.”
We mounted our bikes, and the cool breeze was a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. As we pedaled towards the exit of the neighborhood, a sense of defeat hung heavy in the air. Just as we were about to leave, an impression came over us.
We suddenly stopped, pointing at a little home. “Let’s try one more. This one.”
We looked at each other almost jokingly as we approached the door, our hearts filled with anticipation. An elderly woman with a warm smile and kind eyes greeted us.
At first, the conversation seemed to follow the familiar pattern of polite disinterest. But as we delved deeper into the message of the restored gospel, a change came over the woman’s demeanor. Her eyes lit up with understanding, and her questions revealed a heart that the Lord had prepared.
We left her home that day with a renewed sense of purpose. The Lord had guided us to her, and we had been instruments in His hands. Over the next couple of months, we continued to teach her and nurture her faith, witnessing the Lord’s hand in the most remarkable ways. As we introduced her to the members of the branch, we discovered an incredible coincidence—one of the first members she met turned out to be a close friend from her past. They hadn’t seen each other in over a decade, and their reunion was a testament to the Lord’s tender care and guidance in bringing His children together.
On June 1, 2024, Loes was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a day that I will never forget. Her unwavering commitment to the gospel and her plans to attend the temple filled our hearts with gratitude.
That hot day in Aruba taught me a profound lesson about faith and obedience. Even when the path seems dismal and our efforts appear fruitless, the Lord is always working His miracles. He guides our steps, opens doors, and prepares hearts. Our role is to trust in Him, follow His promptings, and never give up.

A short Japanese man wanders everywhere, offering advice, spotting for tumblers, cheerfully shouting encouragement. He is assistant coach Makoto Sakamoto, himself a former U.S. Olympic gymnast and seven-time U.S. national champion. The team members call him “Mako.”
Mako remembers ten years ago when Peter tried out for his youth gymnastic club. He’s trained and taught him ever since. In 1982, when Peter was named gymnast of the year by the U.S. Gymnastics Federation, Mako was named coach of the year.

A group of men were talking with the Prophet Joseph Smith one day when news arrived that the house of a poor brother who lived some distance from town was burned down. Everyone expressed sorrow for what had happened. The Prophet listened for a moment, then “put his hand in his pocket, took out five dollars and said, ‘I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars; how much do you all feel sorry?’” The immediacy of the Prophet’s response is significant. Last year millions of you responded to the sorrow of others with your means, tender hearts, and helping hands. Thank you for your wonderful measure of generosity.

Betsy stared at her friend. “I don’t believe them, but if you want to, it’s all right with me. But are you really sure? He’s taking everyone who’s baptized to Kirtland. If you join, I’ll never see you again!”
Kirtland! Mary Ann felt all funny inside. This Church was true, but she didn’t want to leave their warm home and travel far away. She hurried home. Mother would know if Betsy spoke the truth.
Her mother nodded. “Your father and I talked to Brother Reed last night while you were sleeping. He told us that all the Saints are gathering to Kirtland, Ohio. After we’re baptized, we’ll join them there.”
Mary Ann’s heart sank. How could they leave their home? How could they leave their friends? She sat down by the fire and poked at the coals.
Brother Reed came in and sat next to her. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
Her heart ached so much that it was hard to talk. “I don’t want to leave here.”
He nodded. “You’ve heard we’re gathering to Kirtland.”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “Let me tell you about Kirtland. You’ve met an Apostle of God, but in Kirtland there’s a real prophet of God, Joseph Smith. Imagine seeing someone who’s actually talked to God! The Prophet is the one who has commanded that we gather. You see, we’re building up the kingdom. We’re also going to build a temple.”
“A temple?”
“Yes. It’s a place where the Saints can gather to worship and teach one another the gospel.”
“Can I go in this temple?”
“Yes, but it isn’t built yet. We all need to help build it. There’s much to be done.”
Mary Ann thought about it. She wanted to hear the Prophet speak and to be with others who believed as she did. Suddenly she found she was eager to go to Kirtland.
Weeks later their farm sold, and her family joined several others in a small wagon train. With Brother Brigham leading the way, they started on their journey to Kirtland.
The wagons traveled slowly, and baby Anna got sick. Just when Mary Ann thought that they’d never get to Kirtland, Brother Reed ran alongside their wagon. “Kirtland’s just around the bend!”
The people urged their tired oxen on. Mary Ann bounced up and down on the wagon seat. Then she jumped down and ran ahead with the other children. As she turned the corner in the road, her heart sank. Where were all the beautiful buildings? Where was the temple Brother Reed had talked about? Kirtland was just a raw frontier town.
She plodded back to her parents. “I don’t like Kirtland,” she told them. “It’s ugly.”
Her mother smiled at her. “It’s just not finished yet. It’ll be beautiful some day. We’ll help to make it so.”
Brother Reed came and took Mary Ann by the hand. “Come with me.” He took her along a dirt road past a store and around the corner to the edge of a field. “This is where we will build the house of the Lord. When it is finished, it will be shiny and white and wonderful! It will be a fit place for the Lord.”
Mary Ann felt that sweet feeling she now recognized as the Holy Ghost. Maybe things weren’t what she expected, and maybe it would be hard to build a home again, but she knew that her family was doing what was right.
She looked at the field. It might be a long time before the temple was built, but it would be a temple of the Lord!

Some people think that babies are a bother, but Hans wasn’t. He was good. He would watch us, then try to do everything we did. He used to go around the house picking up little pieces of rubbish that no one else saw. Then he would run to the wastebasket and throw them in. He always tried to help everybody. He was smart about it too. One day he decided to help Mom. He climbed up onto the stove when he was alone in the kitchen. Later we found him sitting beside the burners stirring a pot full of cold water. When we came in, he clapped his hands and said, “Oh, see!”

I can understand in some small part how joyful the Lord must be when His servants obey without murmuring. Recently, my dear wife and I participated in a meeting during which our responsibilities were to be explained. We had no idea, at that time, what our assignment would be or where we would be serving. I was privately advised that we would be called to serve in West Africa. I was surprised and delighted with the assignment, but there passed through my mind the thoughts that would inevitably arise in the mind of my companion of almost 39 years. How would she receive this assignment? I knew she would agree to go. In all our years together, she has never refused a call from the Lord. But what would be the feelings of her heart?
As I sat next to her, she discerned in my eyes that I knew our assignment. She said, “Well, where is it?” I simply said, “Africa.” Her eyes brightened, and she said with cheerful heart, “Isn’t that great!” My joy was full.

I suspect you know people like this because for a long time, I was someone like this—I was spiritually face-blind.
I thought my life was about following rules and measuring up to abstract standards. I knew God loved you perfectly but didn’t feel it myself. I’m afraid I thought more about getting into heaven than being with my Heavenly Father.
When I realized that I was spiritually face-blind, that I saw rules but not the face of the Father’s mercy, I knew it wasn’t the Church’s fault. It wasn’t God’s, and it didn’t mean everything was lost; it’s something we all have to learn. Even the early witnesses to the Resurrection often came face-to-face with the resurrected Lord but did not recognize Him; from the Garden Tomb to the shores of Galilee, His first followers “saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus.” They had to learn to recognize Him, and so do we.
When I realized I was spiritually face-blind, I started to follow Mormon’s counsel to pray “with all the energy of heart” to be filled with the love promised His disciples—my love for Him and His love for me—and to “see him as he is … and have this hope.” I prayed for years to be able to follow the first great commandment to love God and to feel that “first great truth … that God loves us with all of His heart, might, mind, and strength.”
I also read and reread and reread the four Gospels—this time reading not to extract rules but to see who He is and what He loves. And, in time, I was swept away by the river of love that flowed from Him.
As I saw this, my heart leapt in loving recognition, and I began to feel that He might love me. As President Nelson taught, “The more you learn about the Savior, the easier it will be to trust in His mercy, His infinite love.” And the more you will trust and love your Heavenly Father.