Gospel Story Finder

As briefly mentioned in my introduction, I am ethnic Chinese and born in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. My mother and I escaped Vietnam as boat people in 1979 when I was six years old, four years after the Fall of Saigon where Communist North Vietnam took over South Vietnam.

We lived in former Saigon, currently Ho Chi Minh City, which is in South Vietnam. When Saigon actually fell to communist rule, the whole city turned upside-down. Those who worked for the South Vietnamese government or connected to the U.S. Embassy were among the first to be taken out and so many people were running to the U.S. Embassy. Many of those fortunate enough to leave with the US Military fled by helicopter and planes. Those of us who were left behind were not so lucky for we had to escape by boat.

My grandpa at the time had a gold business and a fish sauce company. He was ultimately arrested and had almost all his possessions confiscated except for the small amount of gold he hid in various places. Many of my family members including my two close uncles were taken to a re-education camp.

For those of us who stayed behind after the war, the decision to either continue to stay under communist rule or risk our lives by escaping was a serious question. When my mother was asked if she was afraid to leave on a small boat to travel across the sea to another country, she replied, “Truly I was not afraid because freedom is more valuable in my life, so I rather live free.”

With these words echoing in her mind, my mother and I tried to escape two times. On the first time, we were cheated by dishonest boat captains who took what little gold and other precious things we had for passage.

My mother tells the story this way:

“We were disguised like farmers and took a bus out to the countryside by the ocean as if we were going to work. The boat captains would call you when the boats were ready and the children would all be given sleeping medicine to eat. Usually this would take place on a moonless night.
So they took us to walk towards the beach. And they said, okay, now you will stay behind these rocks and you wait for us. So supposedly they would put us into these smaller boats and row us out to the bigger boats. But there weren't any bigger boats.
So we got arrested by the Communist soldiers. At first they shines their flashlights and said don't move or you'll be shot. So we all got rounded up to this large open area.After we were taken to the camp, the men and women were separated.
Females were housed indoors in an old cement warehouse structure and the men were locked up inside of these metal containers, (similar to today's shipping containers) without any air. It was absolutely horrible. The females and children slept on the cement floors."

Now, I was with my mother at this time. I was 5 years old. I got sick with an eye infection and it was all swollen up. Due to my sickness, my mother and I were eventually released. We were in the middle of nowhere in rural Vietnam and no doctor, nothing. And so we were taken to a place where we could get a bus and told to leave.The second attempt to escape occurred a little over a year after this incident.

First, we could not carry anything with us because these fishing boats couldn't carry anything but people. The capacity of these boats was a hundred, but they would try to cram more than 200 people in each one because they wanted to make more profit since the passengers needed to pay some kind of passage fee (usually with precious metals, like gold and silver). Our particular boat had 200 plus passengers, so we were crammed in like sardines with no place to move.

Here is the actual picture of our boat in 1979 before the passengers got on-board. My mom had heard that there was going to be a couple more boats going about the same time as ours. But as it turned out, our boat was the only one who made it. The other ones all sunk. There were simply too many people. So before they even set sail, they all drowned.

Since our boat only had a capacity for one hundred and they stuffed more than 200 people, it was extremely heavily loaded. We were also forbidden to bring anything with us, only the clothes that we could wear. So my mother and I and others wore three or four pairs of clothing. We were on this boat for 96 hours or 4 days.

The boat had a top deck and a lower deck. The females and the kids were in the lower deck and the men were on top. Where we were on the lower deck, the smell of vomit filled the air in the tight space as we all sat crammed next to each other because there literally was no room to even sit up. The only food my mom remembers eating was jicama, which is a vegetable, because jicama has a lot of water and it can make you feel full.

Since there was no bathroom, we used metal cans with a little hole in them. So the men upstairs would us so the men upstairs would use a rope of string, tie this can and hand it down to us, and we would use it and then they would carry up the waste to discard.

On one particular night, the captain announced that we were going to be facing a big storm with large waves with heavy rain and wind. And certainly that night the ocean was angry with waves, rain, and wind rocking our small boat for hours on end. Everybody was terrified, but we were very lucky because the captain of our boat, being a very good sailor, navigated the boat in between two islands. Then he dropped the anchor.

When we woke up the next morning, the storm was over and we saw land for the first time. It was very early in the morning and it was low tide. So the younger men swam to the land and made contact once they arrived. We discovered that we had landed in Indonesia.

The police took no notice of us and they already knew we were refugees because by that time news of the Vietnamese boat people had made headlines around the world. We stayed in a refugee camp with thousands of other Vietnamese boat people for over 5 months.

Eventually, we were sponsored by my uncle who lived in California and my mother and I, along with my 3 cousins, my uncles and aunties who were all on that same boat with me ended up in Long Beach, California and eventually settling in Westminster, California—which has one of the largest Vietnamese populations outside of Vietnam. If you go visit Westminster today, it is nicknamed “Little Saigon.”

In hindsight, we were very lucky. I have other family members, one of whom lives right here in Honolulu and is actually sitting in this audience today, who were not as fortunate and their loved ones drowned in the open ocean.

“It’s scripture time!” Lila said.
Lila loved reading to her little sister, Ánika, and her baby brother, Svetan. Soon Lila would be getting baptized! To be ready, she wanted to read the scriptures every day.
Lila opened the scripture storybook to the first page. Ánika and Svetan snuggled close so they could see the pictures.
“Listen carefully because I’m going to ask you questions after,” Lila said. Then she started reading the first chapter.
“Before we were born, we lived in heaven,” Lila read. “We didn’t have bodies yet. We were spirits.”
Lila, Ánika, and Svetan looked at the pictures of people dressed in white.
“Ready for your first question?” Lila turned to Ánika. “Where did you come from before you were born?”
Ánika clapped her hands. “Heaven!”
“That’s right,” said Lila. “And where did Svetan come from?”
“He came from heaven too,” Ánika said. Svetan giggled and put his fist in his mouth. Lila and Ánika laughed. Svetan was the cutest one-year-old in Argentina!
“Our whole family came from heaven,” Lila said. “Jesus did too. He came to help us so we can live with Heavenly Father again.” Lila pointed to the picture of Jesus on the page.
After she finished reading, Lila kept thinking about what it must have been like to live with Jesus in heaven. She wanted to be like Him. She wanted to always choose the right!
The next day at school, Lila’s tummy rumbled as she waited in line for breakfast. She could almost taste the empanadas as Señora Ruiz slid them onto her plate. They smelled so good!
Then Señora Ruiz poured Lila a cup of milk. Uh oh, Lila thought. The milk looked darker than usual. Sometimes her school added coffee or tea to the drinks.
“Is there any coffee or tea in the milk today?” Lila asked.
Señora Ruiz waved her hand. “A little coffee,” she said. “You won’t even taste it.”
Lila thought for a moment. She remembered how she wanted to be like Jesus and choose the right. She knew drinking coffee was something the prophets said not to do.
“No, thanks. I won’t have milk today,” Lila said. She gave Señora Ruiz a smile. Then she sat down to eat.
That night, Lila helped Papi wash dishes in the kitchen. She was still thinking about the scripture story. She was thinking about the milk too.
“Papi?”
“Yes?” Papi said.
“Why did Heavenly Father want us to have bodies?”
Papi thought while he rinsed another plate. “Well, He gave us bodies so we could become like Him,” he said. “Your body is a home for your spirit. That’s what we mean when we say our bodies are temples.”
Lila nodded. She sang a song about that in Primary sometimes! “So that’s why Heavenly Father wants us to take care of our bodies?”
“Exactly,” Papi said.
“Today at school, they put some coffee in the milk,” Lila said. “I didn’t drink it, though. I’m trying to take care of my temple.”
“I’m proud of you,” Papi said. He dried his hands on a towel and gave Lila a hug.
Lila hugged Papi tight. She was happy to take care of the body Heavenly Father had given her.

Two members of the St. Niklaas Branch, Antwerp Belgium Stake, demonstrate what it means to keep these gospel covenants. Jeanine Craet joined the Church about 25 years ago. Her faithful service, even in times of extreme trial, became a beacon for many, including her neighbor Paula Buysse, who was baptized after Sister Craet shared her testimony with her. Years later, Sister Craet was stricken with a brain hemorrhage and fell into a coma. Sister Buysse, who was serving as Relief Society president, spent hours at her friend’s side, talking, reading, and singing to her. When Sister Craet finally emerged from her coma partially paralyzed, Sister Buysse helped nurse her. Sister Craet slowly regained her ability to speak. During her first Sunday back at church, Sister Craet bore her testimony. While confined to a wheelchair, she thanked the Lord for His blessings and asked Him to help her recover—so she could continue to serve Him.

When I was in high school, I almost always felt far away from God and Jesus Christ. Everyone around me appeared to be so much more spiritual and had all these neat spiritual experiences.
I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. I attended church, read the scriptures, prayed, and went to the temple when my ward planned temple trips. But I still felt like I was missing something.
It wasn’t until my mission that I realized what that missing puzzle piece was: Jesus Christ.
I had been focusing on doing things rather than focusing on the Savior and becoming a devoted follower of Him.
To be clear, righteous habits are good. Living the commandments helps bring us to Jesus Christ. But sometimes we get so caught up in “church tasks” that we take the Savior out of the very activities that are meant to bring us to Him. This can leave us feeling spiritually empty.
Recently some friends of mine who left the Church told me they’ve never felt happier and more at peace. It was so confusing to me! If this is Christ’s Church, how could that be?
As I listened to my friends’ experiences and concerns, I realized that it wasn’t leaving the Church that brought them peace; it was leaving behind the to-do lists they felt they had to keep up on. Once they left the Church, they also left their spiritual to-do lists behind.
But that is not what the Savior had in mind when He established His Church and gave His commandments.
Elder Donald L. Hallstrom of the Seventy once taught: “Some have come to think of activity in the Church as the ultimate goal. Therein lies a danger. It is possible to be active in the Church and less active in the gospel. Let me stress: activity in the Church is a highly desirable goal; however, it is insufficient.”1
It is possible to be doing the right things but completely miss the why behind them.
It is possible to be doing the right things but completely miss the why behind them.
Sister Tracy Y. Browning, Second Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, had a significant insight about the Israelites in the New Testament: “Just as we are today, God’s ancient people were invited to see their lives through Him in order to see more of Him in their lives. But by the time of the Savior’s ministry, the Israelites had lost sight of Christ in their observances. …
“… The children of Israel, in this state, believed that the practices and rituals of the law were the path to personal salvation and in part reduced the law of Moses to a set of protocols administered to rule civilian life. This required the Savior to restore focus and clarity to His gospel.”2
Sometimes Satan doesn’t distract members of Christ’s restored Church so they’ll commit serious sins. Instead he takes the very things we think are good and convinces us to see them incorrectly.
As President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, taught: “Sometimes faithful Latter-day Saints … begin to focus on the ‘appendages’ instead of on the fundamental principles. That is, Satan tempts us to become distracted from the simple and clear message of the restored gospel.”3
Rather than bringing us peace, our efforts to live the gospel can sometimes result in some stress and frustration. This is exactly how Satan wants us to feel about the gospel. If he can’t get us to sin, he will convince us that living the gospel is too hard, too exhausting, and more than we can successfully achieve.
Back in high school, I thought I wasn’t doing enough. That fear of inadequacy was why I didn’t feel as spiritual as those around me.
Although our actions can be signs of our conversion, we can’t allow our outward activities to define our spirituality entirely. If we do, we may begin placing the weight of our salvation on our own shoulders rather than relying on Jesus Christ.
We can’t allow our outward activities to define our spirituality entirely.
President Nelson has urged us to have our focus “riveted on the Savior and His gospel.” 4 This will take us from spiritual checklists to peaceful and joyful conversion in His Church. “Nothing invites the Spirit more than fixing your focus on Jesus Christ.” 5

“Nai Nai’s on the phone!” Mom’s called out. Tom leaped from the couch and ran to find Mom. He took the phone from Mom’s outstretched hand and cradled it against his ear.
“Wei? Hello?” Tom said, a large grin on his face.
Nai Nai was Tom’s grandmother who lived overseas with Tom’s grandfather, Ye Ye. Tom loved getting calls from them, even though he didn’t speak Chinese very well.
“Tom! We miss you,” Nai Nai said in Chinese.
“I miss you too!” Tom said. “Are you OK?”
“Yes! We are OK,” Nai Nai answered.
Tom didn’t know how to ask about the thing he was worrying about. He wondered how to say “coronavirus” in Chinese. Tom had heard all about the coronavirus on the news. He knew that many people all over the world were sick and that most countries were asking people to stay home to keep the virus from spreading.
“Nai Nai, are you sick?” Tom asked. He hoped Nai Nai would understand. He has spent a lot of time worrying about his grandparents.
“No!” she answered. “Hen hao! Very well!”
Tom smiled and breathed a huge sigh of relief. After a few minutes of chatting with Nai Nai, he passed the phone back to Mom. Soon Tom heard Mom say, “Hao, zai jian! Goodbye!”
After Mom hung up the phone, she turned to look at Tom. “Nai Nai says the stores where she lives have already run out of face masks. She asked if I could check the store here to see if there are any masks left. If we find any, we’ll send them to Nai Nai and Ye Ye.”
“Can I come too? I want to help!” Tom ran and put his shoes on. He couldn’t be with Ye Ye and Nai Nai right now, but he could at least do something small to help!
At the store, Mom pushed the shopping cart toward the pharmacy. They were very careful not to touch anything they weren’t buying and to not get too close to other shoppers. When they reached the pharmacy, Mom found the right shelf. There weren’t very many masks left. Mom put one box of masks in her cart. Tom spotted a bottle of green hand sanitizer and showed it to Mom.
“What about this? They could use it to help keep their hands clean!”
“Great idea,” Mom agreed. Tom set it in the cart.
Later, at the post office, Mom chose a red mailing box with spring blossoms. Tom helped put in the masks, the hand sanitizer, and a few packages of cookies. Mom closed the box with tape and brought it to the counter to buy postage.
Tom watched the mail worker take the package and get it ready to ship far away to Nai Nai and Ye Ye. Tom was still worried about his grandparents, but doing something to help made him feel a little better already.
“I’m glad we were able to help Ye Ye and Nai Nai somehow,” Tom said. “I really hope they don’t get sick.”
“Me too,” Mom agreed.
Tom thought about how happy his grandparents would be when they got the package. “They might even be able to share the masks with their friends,” Tom said.
“That’s right! Even when scary things happen, there is always a way we can help.”
As Tom left the post office with Mom, he felt warm all over. He knew that helping others was what Heavenly Father wanted him to do.

One historical event not well known in the Church is the voyage of a courageous band of Saints who sailed from New York City to San Francisco on the ship Brooklyn. This year marks the 150th anniversary of the journey of the Brooklyn, as it arrived in San Francisco Bay on July 31, 1846.

The voyage of the Brooklyn was, perhaps, the longest continuous sea journey of any religious organization in history. It took six months and covered 24,000 miles. The Israelites crossed the Red Sea on their way to Canaan. The Pilgrims of 1620 crossed the Atlantic, a voyage of about 3,000 miles, and were on the water 63 days. The Saints on the Brooklyn crossed the equator on both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, went from the icy Antarctic to the tropical Hawaiian Islands and then to California. There were 120 Puritan Pilgrims, whereas the Brooklyn Saints numbered approximately 240. The two groups were alike in many respects in that they were predominately young people with small children. They had dauntless courage, matchless faith, and an abiding trust in God.

After the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1844, the persecution of the Saints continued and so did the plans of Church authorities to leave Nauvoo and to move west, there to establish themselves in the wilderness of what they referred to as “The Upper California,” which at that time included the Great Basin.

About the same time, Church authorities decided that members living in New England and the Atlantic seaboard who didn’t have the finances to go overland should pool their money and charter a ship. Orson Pratt of the Council of the Twelve went to New York to help organize the expedition.

Samuel Brannan, who was a printer from New York, was chosen as leader of the group, and he was also authorized to charter the sailing vessel. By combining their resources, the Saints were able to secure the 370-ton vessel Brooklyn under the command of Captain Richardson. The charge for the ship was $1,200 per month if they would furnish all their own provisions and if the men would handle the cargo. The captain of the ship ordered the space between decks converted into living quarters. A long table, backless benches, and sleeping cubicles with bunks were built, and all were securely bolted to the deck.

They sailed on February 4, 1846, which also happened to be the same day that the Saints began leaving Nauvoo. There were approximately 70 men, 68 women, and 100 children living in cramped quarters with low ceilings where only the children could stand upright. Most everyone suffered from seasickness. Storms in the Atlantic blew them almost to the Cape Verde Islands off the coast of Africa. Storms battered them around the Horn. Scurvy was prevalent, and the water supply dwindled as they made their way north toward Valparaiso, Chile. Gale winds actually blew them back into Antarctic waters and out into the Juan Fernández Islands, made famous by Defoe in Robinson Crusoe. Here a young mother of seven was buried in what could have been the first LDS service held in the Southern Hemisphere. She had been thrown down a hatchway in a storm and died of her injuries. After five days’ rest, the little group of pioneers sailed for Hawaii.

The Brooklyn stopped in Honolulu long enough to unload its cargo from New York. The passengers attended church services with missionaries who were serving there. They met Commodore Stockton, who informed them that the United States and Mexico were at war. He advised them to buy guns and ammunition and that Brannan should organize his men into military companies and drill them. They drilled all the way to California.

It took the Saints six weeks to travel from Honolulu to California. When they entered the Bay of San Francisco, which then was Yerba Buena, it was shrouded in fog, which, of course, is characteristic of San Francisco Bay even to this day. When the fog lifted, they were happy to see the Stars and Stripes flying. They would not have to fight. The passengers of the Brooklyn were the first colonists under the American flag. It was July 31, 1846. They had been at sea for nearly six months. Twelve deaths had occurred on the long trip. One boy, John Atlantic Burr, and one girl, Georgiana Pacific Robbins, were born at sea.

Yerba Buena was composed of nine dwellings and lay in the sand hills. The Saints faced the hardships of settlement in a raw, undeveloped land. The landing of the Brooklyn Saints doubled the population of Yerba Buena, which was renamed San Francisco six months later.

This band of pioneers established a number of firsts. The first school in California, where English was taught, was opened by Angelina Lovitt in an outbuilding of the deserted Mission Dolores. The California Star was the first newspaper in San Francisco, and Sam Brannan was its publisher. Twenty pioneers from the Brooklyn founded the first known agricultural colony in the San Joaquin Valley, called it New Hope, and planted the first wheat. Many went to work for John Sutter on his lands in the Sacramento Valley. Some of them were present when gold was discovered, and many went to the goldfields. Some of the Brooklyn Saints joined forces with the Mormon Battalion men who had been released from their service and were making their way back to Utah. Some remained in the Bay Area. They built the first public school in California. They established a ferry that served Fremont, San Francisco, and Sacramento. They founded a township named Brooklyn, which was later incorporated into the city of Oakland. Others began farming near Mission San Jose and in southern Alameda County. Some settled as far away as San Bernardino.

It is certainly proper for us to recognize and salute the Saints of the Brooklyn who came to California. Theirs was a journey that probably contained as many hardships as were encountered by most of the pioneers who came overland.

Illustrations by Elise Black
Kate jumped out of bed.
“Good morning!” Mom said. “Today is a special Sunday.”
“Why?” Kate said.
“We’re blessing your baby sister today.”
“Is Susie sick?” Kate asked.
“No,” Mom said. “This is a different kind of blessing. It’s for babies after they’re born. When you were a baby, Daddy gave you a special blessing too.”
Kate didn’t understand. She thought blessings were just for people who were sick. She ate breakfast and got dressed. Then it was time to go.
Kate looked at her baby sister in the car. She was in a beautiful white dress.
When Kate got to church, Grandma and Grandpa were there! So were Aunt Mindy and Uncle Tim. And Kate’s cousins!
Kate was happy to see her family. She usually only saw them on holidays. This must be a special day!
The meeting began. “Today we’re going to bless a baby,” the bishop said.
Kate watched Dad, Grandpa, Uncle Tim, and the bishop go to the front of the chapel. They stood in a circle, holding baby Susie. Everyone else folded their arms and bowed their heads. Kate listened carefully and heard her dad’s voice.
Dad blessed Susie to know that her family loved her. He blessed her to have faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. He blessed her that she would be baptized. And he blessed her that someday she could get married in the temple and have her own family.
“In the name of Jesus Christ, amen,” Dad said. Kate opened her eyes. She watched Dad hold Susie up for everyone to see.
“That was special,” Kate whispered to Mom.
“You’re right,” Mom said.
“I’m glad Susie could have a blessing,” Kate said.

Moving? Tomorrow? It can’t be time already, thought eleven-year-old Sarah as she folded the last of her mother’s dish towels and put them into a barrel. The family had been planning for the past few weeks to leave Kirtland, Ohio, for Missouri with some of the other Saints, but they didn’t know exactly what day they would leave. This morning Sarah’s father had come into the kitchen and told his family that tomorrow was moving day.

Just a month ago, when spring was in its glory throughout the Kirtland area, Father had told Sarah that she must do all that she could to help Mother get ready to move. However, Sarah had tried to convince herself that they wouldn’t have to do it. How can I leave Kirtland? she’d wondered. We’ve never lived anywhere else.

Kirtland was the place where Sarah and her brother John and sister, Laura, had all been born. Another brother, two years younger than Sarah, had even been buried in Kirtland shortly after he was born. It was the place where Sarah and her parents had been taught and baptized by Brother Sidney Rigdon. Brother Rigdon had been their minister when they had all belonged to the Campbellite Church, and the whole family had loved him. They had been glad to read the Book of Mormon when he had brought it to their home. It was only right that Brother Rigdon had baptized them when they were sure that the gospel was true.

Sarah had been excited about turning twelve in the fall and going with her best friend, Mary, to Sister Eliza Snow’s school for girls. But Sister Snow’s family and Mary’s family had already moved to Missouri, so there would be no school. She had hoped that someone else would teach the school once things settled down a little. But things hadn’t settled down.

The rest of that day and night went quickly. Suddenly it was daybreak and time to leave their home. When the wagon was packed, the whole family climbed aboard, with Father sitting on the front seat to drive the oxen he had bought only last week. John, looking very big for a seven-year-old, sat next to Father. Five-year-old Laura and Sarah sat in the back of the wagon with Mother. They all watched Kirtland grow smaller as they joined the other wagons leaving the city.

The first few weeks of the trip seemed especially long because of the slow pace of the oxen. John and Laura had been excited about the trek at first, but even they calmed down as time passed. One night Sarah was awakened by the low voice of her father. There was something in the sound of his voice that frightened her. She crawled out from under her blanket and drew back the wagon flap.

The worried look on Father’s face eased a little when he saw her. “Sarah, I need your help. Your mother has a high fever. Can you go to the river and fill the bucket with some water?”

Sarah was afraid. Mother had never been sick! She had always been the one to take care of others when they were ill. Quickly Sarah filled the bucket and returned to the wagon. All night long she and Father took turns wiping her mother’s face with damp cloths to keep her cool. Mother was too sick to say a word, and this really upset Sarah. By morning Sarah realized that she must take care of her brother and sister and fix whatever breakfast she could put together. She knew that she must remain calm so that John and Laura would not be frightened by Mother’s illness. Quietly she woke the children and told them what had happened.

“Will you go and get some small pieces of wood to start the fire, Laura?” she asked. “You’re really good at finding wood.” Turning to her little brother, she said, “John, if you can get some larger pieces, we can build a fire together.”

John crawled out from under his blanket and began to work without complaining. Sarah was amazed at how helpful her sister and brother were. They seemed to know exactly what to do.

Sarah cooked breakfast and quickly cleaned everything up. Mother didn’t seem much better, so Sarah stayed in the back of the wagon and put soothing, damp cloths on her mother’s face. Father had been able to fix a lid on a bucket so that the water didn’t spill with the wagon’s movement. Because the children helped so much, the family was able to keep up with the company.

Sarah spent every spare minute planning and cooking meals, keeping their clothes washed, and tending Mother. Laura and John gathered wood each night for cooking, and they helped in any other way they could. John found some empty wooden spools, and he and Laura were busy making a surprise for the family.

One morning Sarah awoke and realized that her family had been gone from Kirtland for six weeks! Mother was almost well, but she still let the children take care of things together. How proud she was of Sarah’s cooking and John and Laura’s fires.

“Do you know what’s happened to us, Sarah?” Mother said softly. “With the Lord’s help, we are relying on each other now. This is what we’re supposed to do. If I hadn’t been sick, you children would never have been able to show your father and me the many things you can do for our family.”

Before Sarah could reply, John and Laura climbed into the wagon holding something under a cloth. Father climbed in behind them and said, “I don’t know what these two are up to, but they made me stop everything to come and see what they’ve made.”

The children uncovered a checkerboard made from a weathered board, and a set of tiny checkers made from the spools John had found. Laura beamed and said, “John rubbed charcoal on some spools to make the black pieces, and I colored the other ones with some berries we found along the way. We thought everyone could take turns playing checkers.”

Sarah felt tears come to her eyes. She would miss Kirtland and its happy memories, but she was taking with her the best part of those memories—her family.

Two days later, on December 31, Wilford and Azmon were baptized. The day of their baptism, however, was not calm and peaceful. As Wilford was getting ready to leave, his horse kicked the hat right off his head. If the horse had kicked two inches lower, Wilford probably would have been killed.
Just ten minutes later, while he was driving this same horse and another hitched to a sled, several loose floorboards gave way! Wilford fell through them to the ground. He held on to the harnesses with all his might as the two frightened horses dragged him down the hill, where he was able to stop them without being seriously injured.
When he finally got to the lake where his baptism was to take place, the ground at the lake’s edge was covered with three feet of snow. Chunks of ice were floating in the water. Nevertheless, he eagerly stepped into the water, was baptized by immersion, and came up filled with joy and excitement. He didn’t care if the water was icy cold—he had found the Lord’s Church! He then and there made a promise to the Lord that he would do anything, go anywhere, and sacrifice everything, if need be, for Heavenly Father.
Wilford Woodruff kept that promise. In fact, he was so loyal, so dependable, that he was called Wilford the Faithful. He served several missions for the Church, was a devoted friend of the Prophet Joseph Smith, crossed the plains with President Brigham Young, and later became the fourth President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He died in 1898 at the age of 92.

Urging us to press on to higher and better things, our own President Spencer W. Kimball, in the concluding speech of the last conference, said, “We have paused on some plateaus long enough. Let us resume our journey, onward and upward. . . . We have been diverted at times from fundamentals on which we must now focus in order to move forward as a person or as a people.” (Spencer W. Kimball, “Let Us Move Forward and Upward,” Ensign, May 1979, p. 82.) And one of the fundamentals that President Kimball is presently emphasizing is the full utilization of our time.
I recall an incident concerning our prophet that highlights this fundamental. Early in the morning several years ago, during an area conference in Amsterdam, I was waiting for an elevator. When it arrived and its door opened, to my surprise there stood President Kimball. In his usual warm and friendly way he said, “Step in and join me.” We rode only to the next floor together, but in that short time of about thirty seconds he gave me enough challenges and assignments pertaining to our missionary labors in Europe to fully occupy my time for years to come. Since then, I have often wondered what the assignments and challenges might have been had we ridden another floor together.

While Angie brushed her teeth, she stared in the mirror at the front teeth that seemed too big for her thin face, and she thought that they made her look like a monster. She shuddered and took a long time to rinse her toothbrush. Slowly she turned off the tap.
How she wished it was morning, with a sunny kitchen full of light and with breakfast waiting for her, instead of bedtime. Soft lamplight flooded her bedroom, but Angie thought only of the shadows in the corners and under her bed.
She whispered good night to Albert, her hamster, who lived in the cage on the table near the window in Angie’s room. Albert wasn’t afraid of the dark. She often heard him running on the wheel in his cage after the lights went out. She was glad he was there. Next to Mommy and Daddy, Angie loved Albert best, and knowing he was there made her feel less afraid. Angie’s friends teased her when she said that Albert was the bravest hamster in the whole world, but she didn’t care, because she knew that it was true.
Angie padded down the hallway to Mommy’s bedroom to say good night. Her father was away on business for a few days. Mommy smiled at her over her book and patted the bed. Angie crawled in beside her and settled into the crook of Mommy’s arm.
“May I sleep in here with you tonight?”
Mommy smiled. “It’s lonesome without Daddy, isn’t it? But I think you’d best sleep in your own room, or Albert might get lonely. Go brush your teeth, and I’ll come tuck you in.”
“I already did. But …” Suddenly Angie was crying. “I don’t want to sleep in my bed anymore. Not ever again! I want to sleep in here with you and Daddy, like when I was little.”
“What’s the matter, pumpkin?” Mommy’s strong arms held Angie tight. “Why don’t you want to sleep in your bed?”
“Because they’ll pull off my toes.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“The monsters!” Angie took a deep breath through the tears that streamed down her face. “The little monsters that live under my bed!” There, she’d finally admitted it out loud.
“But, Angie, there are no monsters under your bed. You’re a big girl now, and you know that.”
“I hear them at night,” whispered Angie. “And I dream that they wait under the bed, and when I get in it, they pinch and pull my toes. That’s why I jump onto my bed from the middle of my room.”
“Well, I think we’d better go to your room and take a look together,” said Mommy with a smile.
Angie hopped down and ran ahead to tell Albert that Mommy was coming to scare away the monsters. But when she got to her room, the cage door was open, and the cage was empty. “Mommy,” cried Angie, “Albert’s gone!”
“What?” Mommy picked up the small cage. “Angie, Albert needs our help. We have to find him before he hurts himself.”
Angie surprised herself by not crying. “That’s right. I have to help Albert,” she said stoutly.
While Mommy went to get a flashlight, Angie stood in the middle of her room and looked around. Albert wasn’t anywhere that she could see. She didn’t want to look anywhere she couldn’t see from the middle of the room, for fear that the monsters would get her. It was dark in the corner by the bookcase and behind the rocking chair and under the bed. They were good hiding places for Albert or monsters.
But Albert wouldn’t go where monsters were, Angie reasoned, so she looked in places she thought a hamster would like. The shoe bag that hung on her closet door had twelve pockets for shoes, and Angie searched each one carefully. Albert wasn’t there.
She looked in every room of her dollhouse and inside the pencil box on her bookcase. The flowered bedspread was smooth; it showed no small lump the size of a hamster. Albert wasn’t anywhere. My room is too neat, thought Angie. If this were my friend Susie’s room, there would be lots more places to look.
When Mommy came back with the flashlight, they searched together without talking. Angie thought it very brave of Mommy to shine her light into all the corners and behind the bookcase. She held her breath, expecting to see the monsters she just knew were hiding there, but there was only dust and a pencil Angie had lost.
Finally, Mommy said, “See if he’s under the bed, will you, dear?” She handed the flashlight to Angie.
Angie peeked under the bed. “Albert isn’t there,” she reported quickly.
“Angela Mallory, you barely looked,” said her mommy in surprise. “Now take this flashlight and look under that bed and really make sure that he’s not there. I’ll go look in the linen closet.”
Mommy left, and Angie made herself walk over to the bed again. She got down on her knees and laid the flashlight on the carpet. Slowly she put her head and shoulders under the bed and turned on the flashlight. Her heart thumped very loudly. She knew what she would see: wrinkled monster faces with mean eyes and nasty smiles, and long bumpy fingers waiting to pull her toes.
In the moment it took her to think all these things, Angie had another thought: Albert! If I’m so scared, how must Albert feel? He’s so little! She just had to find Albert before the monsters hurt him.
Trembling, she moved the flashlight beam back and forth under the bed. She saw eyes. “Monsters,” she gulped.
She forced herself to shine the light straight at the bright yellow eyes that stared at her. Angie held her breath as the flashlight caught and held the tiny figure in its glare.
It was Albert, and he was all alone!
“Mommy, Mommy, come here!” she called.
Quickly Angie got up and moved the bed away from the wall. She picked Albert up very carefully and smoothed his fur, talking to him quietly as she carried him back to his cage. Albert chittered and squeaked, scolding her the whole time. Gently she put him into the cage on a pile of wood shavings and shut the little door tight. This time he wouldn’t get out!
“Did you find him?” Mommy hurried back into Angie’s room.
“Albert was under my bed. And you know what? There weren’t any monsters there. I guess there never were, or Albert wouldn’t have hidden there.”
Angie sighed happily as Mommy gave her a hug and they watched Albert play on his wheel. “Good night, Albert,” Angie said softly. “Thank you for showing me that I really don’t have monsters under my bed.”

The Mendez family lives in a small mountain town near the city of Oaxaca, in southern Mexico. They say, “There are challenges of time, finances, and distance, but the will to do what our Savior wants us to do motivates us to overcome any obstacle.”

Gonzalo Mendez, age 15, says, “When you live in a place where there is danger, temptations can be very difficult, but with the help of prayer we don’t partake of the enticements of the world, and we stand as witnesses to a better way of life.”

The gospel has long been established in Mexico, but there are still areas where the Church is developing. Jaime Cruz, age 15, and his family are the only members of the Church in their small town in the mountains above Oaxaca City. He and his friend Gonzalo work on home-study seminary during the week. Every Saturday they travel two hours by bus to go to the nearest chapel for seminary class with other youth from their ward. Jaime shares what he learns in seminary with his classmates at school and answers their questions. Jaime’s younger brother, Alex, a deacon, is a leader among his friends. Alex says that when he asks them nicely not to use bad language or wear inappropriate clothing, they listen to what he says. Jaime and Alex both know that holding the priesthood is an honor and a responsibility. “I know that the priesthood is given to young men to glorify God’s name by serving others and preaching the gospel,” Jaime says.

During a recent visit to Mexico, Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles met with the youth from three stakes in the city of Cancun. Of his time with these youth, he said, “We saw the light in their eyes and the hope in their faces and the dreams they have. I kept thinking about what a beautiful future Mexico has.”16

The principles we have discussed I know are true. They have blessed my life many times. One vivid example is when I was called to be a mission president. At the time I was working as a civilian for an admiral in charge of a program essential to the national defense of our country. When I told the admiral of the call, he was most upset because he did not understand how it had come and what it meant. He concluded a tense conversation with these words: “You are a traitor to your country. I’ll see that you never have success in this industry. I will not speak to you again. You are finished here. If that’s the way Mormons are, I’m going to get rid of all that work for me.”

I said, “Admiral, I will carefully turn my assignment over to a replacement unless you prevent me from continuing in this office.”

I knew what was right for me to do, but I was very concerned that my decision could cause a loss of work for innocent people who were honorably supporting their families in the program. As I struggled with that thought, there came into my mind the words of the song “Do what is right; let the consequence follow” (“Do What Is Right,” Hymns, 1985, no. 237). I could not see how that challenge could possibly be worked out, but I felt a peace and a calmness as I proceeded to do my best to instruct a replacement.

I can see now that the Lord guided me each step of the way in what to do and what to say. My replacement was a very capable, experienced individual who learned rapidly. I was impressed to identify those things that needed to be done and even was able to outline some suggestions for important future improvements in the program.

On my last day at work I met with the admiral again. The experience was totally different. That conversation ended with a much deeper appreciation for each other and for my beliefs. No other Church member was adversely affected because of my decision.

As we close this experience together, think of what the words of the song “Do What Is Right” mean in your life. May the doctrinal message it contains be as helpful to you as it has been to me.

Because his father was a bishop, young Harold witnessed Church welfare at work. “Then as now, the bishop was responsible for the care of those in need,” wrote President Gordon B. Hinckley, a longtime friend. “Bishop Lee ran his own storehouse, the commodities coming from his own pantry. In the night, the family would see him take a sack of flour, they knew not where, because confidences concerning those in trouble were to be strictly observed.”

Young Harold learned what it meant to listen to the voice of the Lord from an experience he had with his father. “I think maybe I was around ten or eleven years of age … , trying to spend the day busying myself until my father was ready to go home. Over the fence from our place were some tumbledown sheds that would attract a curious boy, and I was adventurous. I started to climb through the fence, and I heard a voice … calling me by name and saying, ‘Don’t go over there!’ I turned to look at my father to see if he were talking to me, but he was way up at the other end of the field. There was no person in sight. I realized then, as a child, that there were persons beyond my sight, for I had definitely heard a voice. Since then, when I hear or read stories of the Prophet Joseph Smith, I too have known what it means to hear a voice.”

This experience with the watch-care of the Holy Spirit impressed Harold that safe passage to Heavenly Father’s kingdom depends on our willingness to hear and obey that voice. “I have learned something of what the Spirit has taught,” he later reflected, “and I know now that … security can come to Israel only when they keep the commandments, when they live so that they can enjoy the companionship, the direction, the comfort, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit of the Lord.”

Let me share a personal experience with you that has helped me understand this delivering power with new eyes. I call this my “scary scuba story.”
About 20 years ago, I decided to enroll in a series of scuba courses. Throughout my training, we practiced things like what to do if my mask filled with water, how to share air with another diver in need, and other similar types of scenarios. By the time I was finished, I was looking forward, with great anticipation, to trying it out on my own. So one day I decided that I was ready to explore the underwater world of Flaming Gorge Reservoir, in eastern Utah.
When I arrived at the lake, I found an isolated dock, where I started to “gear up.” I wriggled into my wetsuit and strapped my air tank to my buoyancy compensator device, or BCD for short. Now, the BCD is the dive vest that inflates with air to help keep one balanced in the water. Next, I slid on my dive fins and then pulled my mask over my face. Once dressed, I waddled my way to the edge of the dock, put my air regulator in my mouth, held my hand to my mask (just as I’ve seen it done in the movies), and then stepped off the dock.
As I began to swim towards the middle of the lake, I noticed that I was gradually sinking beneath the surface of the water, in spite of my best efforts to keep from doing so. As I continued to sink, the atmospheric pressure of the surrounding water also continued to increase with depth. Consequently, I began to sink at an accelerated rate, and I quickly found myself 10 feet deep! Then, before I even realized how fast I was sinking, I was suddenly 15 feet below the surface!
I found myself out of control and sinking deeper with every second into the dark, seemingly bottomless waters of that lake. I could literally watch the light disappearing around me as I fell through those dark waters, now at a depth of 20 feet below the surface!
“How could I stop this uncontrolled fall?” I wondered. Then I remembered something that I had learned from my training: If I borrowed air from the oxygen tank and placed it into the dive vest, or the BCD, the added air in the vest would compensate for the increased pressure of the surrounding waters and help keep me from falling deeper. However, when I tried this, nothing happened; I just keep sinking! Faster and faster, deeper and deeper I dropped—25 feet, 30 feet, 35 feet. I was in a full-blown panic when I finally landed hard on the bottom of that lake about 40 feet deep and surrounded by cold, dark, murky waters.
No matter how hard I pushed off the bottom and kicked my legs, straining and fighting to make it back to the surface, I continued to land back in the same place, four stories underwater, trapped and terrified. Over and over I tried to swim my way to the surface without success. After multiple attempts, and now exhausted, I realized that I needed to change my tactics if I were to escape those dark, cold waters.
I considered the idea of abandoning my scuba tank and my vest on the bottom of the lake, filling my lungs with one last deep breath, and then racing to the surface. I knew that this was extremely risky, but what other options did I have? Just before proceeding, I fortunately remembered learning about a condition called the “bends,” or decompression sickness. This condition can occur when a diver ascends too quickly to the surface, causing nitrogen bubbles to form and then expand in the body. The effects of this condition can result in severe pain, paralysis, or even death.
“I might be able to make it to the surface on one breath of air,” I told myself. But doing so without incurring some level of decompression sickness was very unlikely. No, there just had to be another way.
As my mind raced, I thought of a second option. “Maybe I could swim along the bottom of the lake until I reached the shoreline.” However, this too was risky as the water was so murky that I could hardly see one foot in front of me. And because of those dark muddy waters, I completely lost my sense of direction and had no idea which way to even start swimming. I could easily swim myself into a much worse predicament—farther from the shore and without any air in my dive tank. I felt trapped, confused, and afraid.
Brothers and sisters, what would you have done if you were in this situation?
Well, in that moment of panic, confusion, and terror, I did what you probably would have done right from the start—I prayed. In fact, it was really more of a cry than anything else. I literally knelt down, right there on the bottom of the lake floor, surrounded by the circling darkness of the muddy waters, and pled for deliverance. I expressed my deep regret and sorrow for choosing to dive alone. I explained to my Father in Heaven that I had done everything I could think of to get out of this predicament but continued to find myself in the same situation. I pled with Him to help me return back to the surface and back to the warmth and light of the sun that I so desperately craved.
When I was pouring out my heart, my mind reflected back to minutes earlier, when I was safely back on the shore. In my mind, I saw myself picking up rock after rock and filling my vest pockets completely full of those rocks. You see, shortly after I had arrived at the lake, I had realized that I had forgotten to bring my dive belt.
Now, those of you who have been diving know the quandary I was in. The weighted dive belt helps compensate for the added buoyancy of the wetsuit and the oxygen tank. Without the properly weighted dive belt, I would not be able to submerge underwater. So, in an attempt to counterfeit the proper weight and use of the dive belt, I loaded my pockets with rocks.
After the Spirit had helped me recognize my obvious error, I knew exactly what I needed to do in order to be delivered. Now, in a very calm manner, I took off my gloves, unzipped my vest pockets on my BCD, and began removing the rocks that I had placed therein. One by one, I removed each of those rocks. Once they were removed, I was then able to inflate my vest with air to its full capacity, and immediately I began to ascend up towards the light.
You see, the rocks were the problem. They were restricting the amount of air I could add to my vest. I can still clearly remember those feelings of fear, anxiety, and cold being replaced with feelings of warmth, safety, and comfort as I slowly ascended and then broke the surface of the water. Through prayer and by heeding the promptings of the Spirit, I was delivered from that terrifying situation.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf tells this story about trusting in the Lord and gaining confidence.“During a busy season of my life, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin extended a call to me to serve as stake president.
“During my interview with him, many thoughts raced through my mind, not the least of which was the unsettling worry that I might not have the time this calling would require. Although I felt humbled and honored by the call, I briefly wondered if I could accept it. But it was only a fleeting thought because I knew that Elder Wirthlin was called of God and that he was doing the Lord’s work. What could I do but accept?
“There are times when we have to step into the darkness in faith, confident that God will place solid ground beneath our feet once we do. And so I accepted gladly, knowing that God would provide.”

The Holy Ghost guided me again when I was confused about what was really true. I spent my early years attending a Catholic school. When I learned the teachings of a different religion at school, I sometimes felt confused. I think maybe I felt a little like Joseph Smith did when he didn’t know which church was right. But as I got older, the more I read the scriptures, the more I was guided to the true light of the gospel. The teachings of the Church had logic and harmony, and the Holy Ghost confirmed to me that they were true.

Shiloh W., age 18, Chihuahua, Mexico
My mother died when I was only 12 years old. At that time I was not a member of the Church. When she was sick, I prayed a lot that my mother would be well. I had much faith, and I trusted in God in the hope that her health would return. Sadly she did not recover. I questioned why she had to die at such a young age and leave me while I was still a teenager. I was angry and came to the point where I doubted that God existed. Now that I am a member of the Church, I understand the plan of salvation. I know that she is waiting for me and that our family will be reunited.

Milena Montrasio
Milena Montrasio wanted God to tell her that another baptism was not necessary, that there was no reason to face the social and family consequences of changing churches. But that was not the answer she received.
Doctrines taught by the Latter-day Saint missionaries had answered questions that had always troubled her—questions like “Why did God demand such a painful sacrifice of his own son?” As for the Book of Mormon, “I never doubted it was the word of God,” she recalls. Her husband had not understood why she cried when she read it. “Because I am so happy,” she had explained.
Though Milena’s husband had been present for the missionary discussions, he showed no interest in religion. When Milena told him she planned to be baptized, he angrily said she would be disgracing the family by leaving the dominant church in their society. He threatened to leave her if she did it.
She had always stood by him whenever he needed her, and now he could stand by her, she replied. She would not be baptized if he opposed it, she said, but “I will live as if I were baptized, because the testimony I have received is too strong to deny.”
Her firmness moved him to listen again to what the missionaries had to teach. The Montrasios were baptized together in 1985. He is bishop of the Milan stake’s Monza Ward, and she serves in several positions, including ward Young Women president.

Some years ago I was in Washington, D.C., on business, and the planes of five major airlines were grounded. It was imperative that I get back to Utah as soon as possible since I had some research that needed to be attended to, some classes to teach, and some Church responsibilities to discharge. I decided to go to the terminal in the wee hours when most people don’t like to travel. By going from one airline office to another I finally arranged for a flight to Chicago. I did the same thing at Chicago and finally got to Denver. I thought I would have no problem getting to Salt Lake from Denver because there were three airlines that had planes flying that route, but that is where the problem really became difficult. I just couldn’t get a plane to work it out. I took an airplane that was headed for Phoenix, Arizona, got off at Farmingion, New Mexico, intercepted a plane that was headed for Salt Lake City from El Paso, Texas, and I had it made.
But you know, as I sat in those terminals hour after hour after hour, I looked out on the runways and saw those magnificent jet planes—each one costing millions of dollars, each one having a tremendous potential to do a transportation job for me and for thousands of other people who were caught in the same fix I was—but what were they doing? Nothing. Why? Because there was no one who could or would step on the starter, or step on the gas, so to speak. Thus many were stranded.