Gospel Story Finder

One of the pioneers of Bible translation was William Cameron Townsend. In 1917, Townsend, then twenty-one years old, was hired by contract to sell copies of the Bible in Central America. In the Guatemalan jungle, he came face to face with reality and the Cakchiquel Indians. He could sell them Spanish Bibles, but few could read them. And even though Spanish was the official language in all the schools, few Cakchiquel could express themselves freely in Spanish. Their own language had never been written.

One native asked Townsend, “Why doesn’t your God speak my language?” The missionary could not give him a good answer. Townsend stayed past his contract time, learned to speak Cakchiquel, and invented a way to write it. Then he translated the New Testament. It took him twelve years, but that translation gave those people dignity, hope, and love for the scriptures. It also gave Cameron Townsend his life’s mission.

In 1934, in an abandoned farmhouse in Arkansas, Townsend started what would become the Summer Institute of Linguistics. From two students that first year, the Institute has grown to more than three thousand linguists and trained technical people such as pilots, radio operators, nurses, and teachers. In teams of two, translators go to the forgotten peoples of the world. They learn the language, teach the people to read and write, and then with a team of native speakers, they translate the New Testament. It still takes twelve to fourteen years. Some Institute teams stay twenty years to do the Old Testament as well. A linguist can use up a lifetime translating the Bible into two languages.

Institute workers have been decimated by exotic diseases and other dangers. In 1982, one was shot by guerrillas. Many live primitively, often in isolation. Still they go.

Commuters hardly notice the statue, isolated at the back of a train station in Kiev, Ukraine. It depicts a woman releasing three doves who then fly free. Built years ago under a repressive regime, today the statue seems symbolic of Ukraine’s newfound liberty. It could also serve as a symbol of young LDS women in this land. They, like the doves, are testing their wings, praying that the breeze of freedom will sustain them as the restored gospel spreads throughout their land.
“Put your foot inside this shoe,” seminary teacher Tatyana Mutilina said, holding out a boot nearly large enough for Goliath. Her student, Anzhelika Kovalova, placed her foot timidly inside.
“Now,” the teacher said, “put it here on the table where everyone can see.”
That got the class’s attention.
“Don’t go on a journey wearing shoes that don’t fit,” Sister Mutilina said. Then she taught the Kharkovsky Branch youth a powerful lesson from the seminary manual, reading scriptures, discussing questions, and bearing her testimony about how important it is to be prepared when the Lord calls upon you. The point?
“That the future of the Church in Ukraine will require youth like us to step forward,” Anzhelika says. “We need to be ready for the challenge.” She is not the only young LDS woman here with such an understanding. Others share similar views.
“It makes a big difference to be a member of the Church,” says Galina Trohemenko of the Syvatoshino Branch. “It means living standards that others don’t. That’s what attracted me to the Church in the first place. I have a friend who is a member, and she and her family have such high standards that I wanted to find out more. Now that I’m a member, I need to set that same kind of example for those around me.”
But all of this might never have been, had earlier sisters surrendered to their fears. Consider Kira Gulko’s story:
“I was 14,” she explains. “We weren’t practicing Jews, but we were of Jewish origin. For many years in our family, talking about Jesus Christ was forbidden. But when perestroika began, allowing greater freedom to look at new ideas, my parents started to explore different religions and philosophies. My mother was president of the international friendship club at the school where she teaches English. She found a letter from a teacher in Riverton, Utah, who was looking for pen pals. My mother’s class responded, and in return they got a big box of maybe 100 letters. Many of the students mentioned they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but my mother didn’t know what that was.
“Then we were passing by the bridge near our house, and we saw a notice inviting people to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! My parents decided to go, first so Mom could answer her students’ questions, but also because they were looking for another religion themselves.
“That was in October 1991. After that, the missionaries started coming to our apartment. Soon my parents understood that Jesus Christ is their Savior. They also loved the doctrine of eternal families. We have a wonderful family, and I think that was an important principle to us. They also went to a baptism and felt the Spirit. In December they decided to be baptized themselves.
“I listened to all of the discussions, but I couldn’t understand why my parents decided to join this church. I was afraid they were crazy, that something had happened to their minds. But as I read the Book of Mormon, my testimony of its truthfulness grew stronger and stronger. The key to my conversion was when I realized I am truly loved by my Heavenly Father. I could feel this big love that’s around me and see it in my parents and in the members of the Church. That’s why I was baptized in February 1992. I knew it was right.”
Since then, Kira has helped to bring her friend Lena into the Church and has watched three of her four grandparents embrace the gospel. She has seen her mother help with the translation of the Book of Mormon into Ukrainian and seen her father called as a district president. She has spent several semesters at Brigham Young University, where she served as a student ward Relief Society president. Now attending a university in Kiev, she is watching what were once small branches grow into large ones.
And then there’s Natalia Yereskovska. As a 15-year-old exchange student, she left Cherkassy, Ukraine (south of Kiev), for Sleepy Hollow, Illinois (northwest of Chicago). She gave her LDS hosts quite a shock when, on the way home from the airport, she said, “I know God sent me to you.”
She had been praying to be placed with a religious family, “so I could find my spiritual life.” When she read the profile sheet of the Bruce B. and Jean Bingham family, she saw that they didn’t smoke and that they attended church regularly. But she also felt something, a witness that she should listen to the Binghams and follow their example. Natalia spent the next year participating in family prayer, home evening, Young Women, sacrament meetings, and Sunday School.
Her sensitivity to the Spirit grew. She found answers she’d been seeking for years. She took the missionary discussions. She fasted and prayed and received an answer that she should join the Church. Fearful that her parents would never approve, she gathered her courage, made her request, and received permission. She was baptized on January 7, 1996. But soon she faced concern of another kind. She must return to Cherkassy, a town of 350,000, where she would be the only Latter-day Saint.
“I was scared,” she says. “I couldn’t imagine going where there is no church, where I wouldn’t be able to go to meetings or take the sacrament. But on the flight home I remembered what Brother Bingham told me: ‘No matter where you are, you can be a light.’ That gave me some comfort.”
After spending two Sundays studying scriptures, praying, and singing hymns by herself, Natalia heard of an LDS youth conference in Kiev. She went, and there she met President Wilfried M. Voge of the Ukraine Kiev Mission. Together they mapped out the required steps for the Church to be recognized in Cherkassy. The process started with getting signatures on a petition inviting missionaries to come. But the request had to come from adults.
Natalia made friends with a university professor who once stayed with an LDS family in Wisconsin. He agreed to help, prepared an official letter of invitation, got a group of business students to agree to listen to the missionaries, and even arranged a meeting with the mayor of a small town nearby. After Natalia explained about Church standards, the head counselor of her school also signed the petition and requested that missionaries speak to the entire school!
In September 1996, the first missionaries came. In October, Church meetings were held. In January, the first convert was baptized. Then another in February. Then families. Additional missionaries were assigned. Young Women, Relief Society, Sunday School, and Primary were organized. Picnics and service projects were held. Men were ordained to the priesthood. A branch president was called. Natalia led one of her lifelong friends to the Church, and even the professor’s wife was baptized! In short, the branch kept growing and growing. Today, if you visit the Cherkassy Branch and ask for Natalia, five members will turn and say, “Yes?”
When Natalia first thought about establishing the gospel in her hometown, she was nervous. But President Voge said, “Heavenly Father will support you.” That kind of faith has paved the way for others.
Two trees growing side by side. It’s a symbol for Ukraine that is more than 1,000 years old. It’s stamped on the back of each coin minted by the government. It’s incorporated in the national coat of arms. And it’s also a symbol of the lives of young LDS women in Ukraine today.
As they walk through the Kiev Botanical Gardens, Lilia Velbivets and Aliona Papilenkova explain. “Youth in the Church are a lot like those trees,” Lilia says. “We shelter each other, we protect each other, and together we grow straight and true.”
Aliona, for example, has grown by studying seminary. She is now one of the first four-year graduates in Ukraine. Lilia is following that example by studying seminary herself.
“In seminary we get away from the world,” Aliona says. “We learn to trust the truth contained in the scriptures and to use it in our lives.”
Lilia talks about her family’s growth in the gospel. “My mother and I met the sister missionaries, and we were excited to learn about another testament of Jesus Christ (the Book of Mormon). But my father was an atheist and slower to convert.” As the family took the discussions regularly, however, her father’s heart was touched. All three were baptized on the same day.
“The next year was wonderful as we prepared to go to the temple (in Freiberg, Germany) to be sealed as a family,” Lilia continues. “When we arrived I felt like I was at home, because the temple is the house of God and we are His children.”
Aliona remembers a big ray of sunshine coming through the window when she was baptized at age 15. Hope filled her heart. Soon, however, she found that she lost friends at school “because they didn’t understand what I had done, and they started to see a big difference in me. But I will never compare my God to my friends. Heavenly Father always holds first place with me.”
She has since found many new friends in the Church, she says. “And now I can’t imagine my life without it. It’s like the air I breathe.”
The evening sun is fading as Lilia and Aliona walk toward the exit from the park. By the side of the path two trees stand, growing tall together.
Legend says Kiev was founded by three fierce brothers, Kiy, Shchek, and Khoriv. But in the statue that memorializes them, their sister Lybed stands at the bow of the boat, arms outstretched and expression earnest. In this ancient place, her image could also represent the young Latter-day Saint women of Ukraine. Eager to soar, they are already flying toward the future.

“On the Fourth of July we camped for the day, not entirely to celebrate, but to wash and do mending and various other things that were necessary. We camped in a pretty place near a creek. I was to wash with Phebe’s help. She was only twelve but very energetic. We selected a place quite secluded, close to the creek where we could have plenty of water. Well, we were making the suds foam when a dapper young gentleman from New York, a nephew of our captain, who was on his way to California, discovered us and brought a drink and a large piece of delicious fruitcake which was made to celebrate the Fourth on the plains. A rather embarrassing position, to accept this compliment in the midst of soiled linen and soapsuds. I had not been introduced to him before. However, I accepted the cake and drink with great patriotism, and from that time he often called at our wagon—that is, our wagon yard. Everyone was supposed to honor all the land that was occupied by ox yokes, camp kettles, and everything that goes to make an outfit for traveling. So when any of the young folks called I was as much at home sitting on an ox yoke as if I were sitting in an easy chair in a parlor. Such is life on the plains.”

Walking Hawk moved slowly toward the fire in the center of the village and took a place in the shadows behind the other novice warriors. He tried not to look across the fire at Standing Elk, Eagle Claw, Buffalo Horn, or the other boys his own age who now had taken their places with the men.
Walking Hawk barely heard the talk at the council meeting. His impatience made all other thoughts grow dim. Perhaps if he hadn’t gone with the hunters in search of wild horses, he, too, would be sitting there with the men. A picture of the splendid young roan mare that had been his pay for helping in the horse hunt, however, filled his mind so that he wasn’t too envious of the other boys’ new position of manhood.
Most of the boys who had proven themselves during his absence had killed only antelope or deer, not the great buffalo.
Walking Hawk sat up straighter. That was what he would do. He would not settle for less than a buffalo. Then it wouldn’t matter so much that he hadn’t been among the first.
With the vow bright in his heart, Walking Hawk listened to the words of Long Arm, one of the most famous leaders among all the Sioux.
“The buffalo no longer come to this place as they have in the past,” Long Arm said. Then he paused, glancing around the circle of faces turned toward him. No one spoke.
“The season grows late for securing meat and hides and all else that the buffalo provides for our people. Winter will be upon us before we are prepared. We cannot wait any longer. Tomorrow we must go to the west in search of the buffalo.”
A murmur rose from the men in the circle, for there was danger in going farther west into Crow country, the land of their enemies.
Seeing nothing but a few straggler buffalo during the next three days, the Sioux’s hopes quickened when scouts reported signs that a large herd had been in the vicinity not many days before. The women were pleased when Long Arm announced that a more permanent camp would be made near the ragged, gray bluffs where they would have cover and shade. From here, the scouts would search for the buffalo herd and signal the men to ride out for the hunt.
It was barely dawn when the hunt leader rode out with a few of the most experienced scouts in search of the herd. For those left at camp, the day passed slowly. The waiting was hard for everyone.
Without really tasting it, Walking Hawk ate the supper his mother set in front of him that evening. He walked to the horse herd to watch the animals graze along the stream, and then came back to the tepee to sleep.
Early the next morning Walking Hawk stepped from the tepee. He could not stand this inactivity any longer. He had decided to slip away from the camp to find and kill a straggler buffalo. If no herd were found, he, at least, would have proved himself in his own hunt.
As he had on many mornings in the past, Walking Hawk searched the horse herd for his roan mare.
Impatience pushed at him but still he took time to rub the pony’s coat with a bunch of grass until it gleamed in the first morning light. He casually glanced around at the hunters who had now returned to the village for their morning meal.
Walking Hawk moved slowly, as though he were leading his pony to the stream for water and the better grass growing near there. At the stream, he mounted and sat astride his pony, studying the clouds overhead and the ripples in the water. Then pressing his heels in slightly, the roan started walking downstream. Once around the bend, Walking Hawk crouched forward and dug his heels into the pony’s sides.
He felt a strange uncertainty about running away without telling even his father about his plan. But when he returned with a buffalo, they would all be proud of him.
Walking Hawk had ridden quite a distance without seeing game of any kind, by the time the sun was straight overhead. He decided to ride only as far as the next rise with the stunted trees, and then he would turn back to camp.
Halfway to the trees, Walking Hawk quickly pulled the pony to a halt. Moving from the protection of the trees were two buffalo cows and a partly grown calf. They had not caught sight of him yet and the wind was in his favor.
Sliding off his pony’s back, Walking Hawk paused just long enough to fit an arrow to his bow. Then he ground-reined the pony and crept forward alone.
He would shoot the young cow since the calf was old enough to be weaned. The other cow was too old and tough. Walking Hawk was just about to let the arrow fly, but he paused for a moment. Had he seen a movement beyond the buffalo? His heart jumped like a startled coyote when he realized what the movement was.
In his excitement at seeing the buffalo, Walking Hawk had not been careful and had moved above the horizon line.
Now he had been seen by Crow warriors!
The horsemen were still some distance away, down the west side of the ridge. But they rode swiftly toward him.
The buffalo were forgotten as Walking Hawk bolted for his pony. Sensing his fear, the mare was in motion almost before he had mounted. With this much head start, he hoped to outrun the Crows to the camp.
Then suddenly Walking Hawk’s head reeled, for he recognized the mistake of his thinking. He must not ride toward the camp. To do so would give away the location of his people and make them easy prey for their enemies.
Swallowing his fear, Walking Hawk headed the pony off at an angle from their camp. He glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to see that the riders had not yet topped the ridge. Is it possible that they haven’t seen me, he wondered.
Twice more he glanced back. Five warriors had ridden into clear view.
Walking Hawk rode on all through the afternoon, beyond the time of dusk and into the night. Though his pony breathed hard, it did not falter. His heart sang with gratitude for such a fine animal.
At last, Walking Hawk brought his pony to a halt. Though there was no sound of his pursuers, he knew that they could be very near just waiting for morning to resume their chase. But now he and his pony must have rest. He wondered if he had come so far that he would be unable to find his way back to the camp.
Morning came quickly and as Walking Hawk scanned the horizon in all directions, he felt certain that he had lost the five warriors who had followed him all the previous day.
Though he was becoming faint from hunger, Walking Hawk climbed on his pony and rode toward camp. Dusk was settling like a heavy robe over the land when he caught sight of the familiar line of bluffs ahead. The camp was so well hidden that, without previous knowledge, he would never have guessed its location.
Walking Hawk swallowed hard at the rough command of a sentry who rose up from among the rocks with his bow and arrow poised.
“It is Walking Hawk, son of Red Feather,” he struggled for words. “I—I have returned.”
“You have brought concern to your family and danger to us all,” the sentry scolded him.
The sound of their voices brought Walking Hawk’s father in long strides. His face was dark with anger.
“Care for your horse,” Red Feather commanded. “And then you shall explain the worry that you have brought to your mother.” He strode away as quickly as he had come.
Walking Hawk wanted to make the task of caring for his pony stretch on for a long time, but he dared not. Never had he seen such anger on his father’s face.
Red Feather’s anger did not lessen as Walking Hawk told of his strong wish to become a successful hunter, of his plan for at last achieving it, of his near success, and then of the coming of the Crow warriors.
“So careless!” his father exploded. “Surely, my son would not be so foolish about his own safety or that of his people. Failing to creep carefully to the top of a ridge when in enemy country is unbelievable!”
As his father spoke, Walking Hawk began to realize the seriousness of his act. He tried to swallow the shame that rose bright in his heart. But he could not look at his father. Now he understood that the laws of his people were not just unreasonable rules set down by adults. His act had been a selfish one.
His father put Walking Hawk’s next thought into words. “No one among us has the right to bring danger to himself if it could also bring danger to our people. There can be no safety for any of our people unless each one accepts responsibility for the welfare of all.”
Walking Hawk nodded seriously. “When at last a buffalo herd is sighted,” he said, “I shall stay behind to help guard the camp. It is what I wish.”
Red Feather looked surprised. But as he left the tepee, his heart swelled with pride. Now Walking Hawk was indeed becoming a man!

As soon as Dad came home, I asked him, “How can wishes come true?”
“I can’t tell you,” he answered, “but I wish my good suit was cleaned and pressed. I need it tomorrow.” Looking at Mom’s note saying that she would be late, he started picking up the living room. “Hmmm … it needs the full treatment,” he said. He wheeled out the vacuum cleaner.
When Mom came home, she looked around with pleasure at the clean, inviting living room. And the next morning Dad was happy to find his freshly pressed suit in his closet.

The importance of what a good reputation means was emphasized to me when I entered into business many years ago with a great business leader. Our plans were to start a new wholesale business. He was to furnish the capital, and I was to furnish the management. After we reached an understanding he wrote me a check for a very large amount of money, and then he said, “If the business is a success, you will get all the credit; and if the business fails, you will likewise get all the credit.” He then went on to say, “Should the business fail, you will lose more than I will. I’ll only lose money, and I have more of that; but you will lose your reputation, which is much more valuable than money.”

Fortunately for both of us, the business was successful.

Christopher found his job using another technique he learned in the workshops at the fair. He applied for a job, but at the time there were no openings. When he followed up a few days later he said, “I know that it costs you something to train new employees. I will volunteer to come in and learn whatever you would like me to learn on my own time and then if you think I can do the job to your satisfaction I will be trained and ready to go to work when you have an opening.” This initiative impressed his employer enough that he interviewed him and hired him on the spot. Although the restaurant is open on Sunday, Christopher’s employer respects his beliefs and has not required that he come in and work on that day.

The first time I attended a Church meeting, I heard many words that didn’t make sense to me. Who were the Beehives? What was the Aaronic Priesthood? the Relief Society?
If this is the first time you have attended a Church meeting and you are feeling confused by something you don’t understand, do not worry! I was clueless too. But I still remember the impressions, the new feelings of peace and joy I experienced. I did not know it then, but the Holy Ghost was whispering to my ears and to my heart, “This is right.”

I was not a very impressive teenager and spent little time serving others. During this time my mother invited me to come with her to visit my great-aunt at a nursing home.
My cousin and her daughter Stephanie accompanied us on this visit. Stephanie was seven or eight years old. As we walked into the nursing home, she waved at everyone she saw. They lit up as if she were handing out sunshine and rainbows. I, on the other hand, avoided eye contact.
When we entered the room that my great-aunt shared with another elderly woman, I did my best to disappear into the background. Stephanie, however, jumped onto my aunt’s bed and began to regale her with stories.
I noticed something about this room. On my aunt’s side were signs of love and family. Pictures and crayon drawings hung on the wall, and flowers adorned a nightstand. The other side of the room was sterile and bare. There were no signs of any visitors; no cards or pictures hung on the wall.
My aunt’s roommate sat alone in a wheelchair and did not acknowledge our presence. She was humming a tune and tapping the arms of her wheelchair, which made me uncomfortable.
Stephanie tugged on her mother’s arm and asked, “Mommy, what’s the matter with that lady?” Stephanie’s mother leaned down and whispered, “She needs love.” I was not prepared for what happened next.
Without hesitation, Stephanie ran over and jumped into the woman’s lap. She then began to tell her stories and ask all kinds of questions. The woman did not answer. Instead, tears ran down her face as she embraced Stephanie. For the next several minutes, Stephanie sat in her lap, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek.
I had never witnessed this type of unselfish love before, and I tried to hide my tears. Later, as we drove away from the nursing home, I marveled at how young Stephanie could be so selfless and so full of love and compassion for a complete stranger.
Eventually I turned my life around and served a full-time mission. While I served, Stephanie wrote me cute letters that included drawings just like the ones in my aunt’s room in the nursing home.
Before I returned home, I received the devastating news that an illness had claimed Stephanie’s life. I still weep that her light went out so soon, but I remain grateful for her example. She taught me what service truly is.
We do not ever have to wonder how or if we should serve. If our hearts are in the right place, then service will become a part of who we are, not just what we do.

It was two weeks before Christmas, and the familiar stress of the season was upon me. I had presents to buy, a tree to decorate, and gifts to deliver.
For several months I had felt overwhelmed by the daily tasks that face a mother of five young children. I had even felt mechanical in my Church attendance as I wrestled with my little ones on the bench. I longed for an increase of the Spirit and of spiritual experiences in my life.
About this time my sister purchased a new home in a neighboring state and was trying to get things settled before Christmas. That would be a lot of work for any family, but for hers it would be even more difficult. My sister was eight months pregnant, a mother of two small children, and the caregiver of her quadriplegic husband.
Realizing the struggle she faced, I called her to see how things were progressing. She was optimistic about the move and hopeful that members of her new ward would be supportive. After our conversation I hung up the phone, wishing her good luck and wondering how I could help from 400 miles (650 km) away.
That evening the thought kept coming to my mind that I needed to be there to help. But as I looked at my schedule, I dismissed the thought and went to bed.
The next morning I awoke with the same prompting. The feeling was so strong this time that I could not deny it. I called my husband and said, “I need to go help my sister.” Without hesitation, he responded, “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
I called my sister, told her my plans, and booked a flight for that afternoon. I quickly packed my suitcase, kissed my children good-bye, and headed to the airport.
Over the next three days I unpacked boxes, organized rooms, and helped decorate a Christmas tree. After most of the boxes were unpacked, I sat with my sister and her family, admiring their pretty tree. My five-year-old niece, pleased that her family was ready for Christmas, exclaimed, “This is going to be a great Christmas!”
As I flew home, I knew that by giving part of myself to this sweet family, I had felt the Spirit, which I had been yearning to feel. It came because I had served others.

At the end of 1988 I was enjoying my calling as second counselor in the bishopric in Ciudad Ojeda, Venezuela, but I had a pressing concern. I had been a member of the Church for over a year, but I had not yet received my temple blessings.
One day a friend from the nearby city of Maracaibo came to visit. Before long we had struck up a conversation about spiritual matters.
Suddenly my friend was prompted to say, “Brother Troconiz, I believe that Heavenly Father wants you to go to the temple and receive the eternal blessings He has promised His children.”
“I cannot go,” I replied. “There is no temple here in Venezuela, and a trip out of the country is very expensive. I don’t have the money.”
He thought this over for a moment and then said, “If you really want to go to the temple, Heavenly Father will provide a way for you to go.”
I replied, “If Heavenly Father will provide that kind of help, I will go!”
From that moment on I was filled with faith and hope that I would be able to go to the temple. The next day I called the stake leaders and was told that a trip had been scheduled to the Lima Peru Temple, the closest temple at the time, in January. The trip would cost 16,500 bolivares and would cover the plane ticket, food, and lodging.
The days went by, and the deadline for turning in the money was fast approaching. I tried to earn the money, but I was no closer to having what I needed. My faith never faltered, however. I was that sure that Heavenly Father would provide a way.
Not long before the deadline, I received a telephone call from a former employer. The person calling addressed me by name and said, “You were employed by this petroleum company five years ago. When you left, your benefits were not calculated correctly. Please come in and pick up the check we have issued in your name.”
I went to get the check the next day. When I looked at the amount, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The check had been issued for exactly 16,500 bolivares!
On January 17, 1989, I entered the Lima Peru Temple and received my temple endowment. My friend was right. Heavenly Father had provided a way for me to go to the temple. As Nephi declared, “The Lord is able to do all things … for the children of men, if it so be that they exercise faith in him” (1 Nephi 7:12).

I ran the soup kitchen at the Food and Care Coalition in Provo, Utah, for 11 years. We encouraged our patrons to help us when they could. One man, Mike (name has been changed), had been living in his car for about four years. He always volunteered to help, and I appreciated everything he did for me.
It was the Christmas season, and I wanted to show my appreciation, so I gave him a Christmas card with a short message expressing my thanks and a book of tickets to the dollar-movie theater that was close by. Mike was overwhelmed. He thanked me several times and said he couldn’t remember the last time he had received a present from anyone.
This happened at about noon on Christmas Eve. After dinner that evening, Mike came to me and apologized for having given away two of the movie tickets. I told him they were his, and he could do whatever he wanted with them. He said, “Well, this lady was sitting across from me at dinner. I’d never seen her before, but she told me it was her birthday and she hadn’t received any presents. So I gave her one of the tickets.”
“Then, there was a man sitting by me,” Mike continued. “We got to talking. I found out he was leaving on the bus tonight, but it didn’t leave until 11:00 p.m., and he had nowhere to wait until it came. I gave him one of the tickets so he could go in where it was warm and watch a movie.”
I was so teary eyed and choked up that I could hardly tell him what a generous and Christlike thing he had done.

Every night of the open house, the temple had to be cleaned and readied for the next day’s tours. Dallas Matthews, 17, of the Orem Utah Windsor Stake, was assigned to the cleaning crew for one night, but on his own he came every night to help where he could. To Dallas, his efforts didn’t seem remarkable. But consider that after cleaning at the temple until 2:00 each morning, he was getting up at 6:00 A.M. for football practice. Dallas is the team captain at Timpanogos High School, where he is a wide receiver and backup quarterback.
Dallas was a little embarrassed when asked about the extra miles of service he put in for the temple open house. His dad says Dallas doesn’t usually talk about himself. But his devotion did not go unnoticed. Those in charge of the cleaning could not help but pay attention when this young man came faithfully every evening, sometimes bringing friends.
“I worked on patching the plastic [that protects the carpet] or redoing it every night if needed,” said Dallas. “I was never tired the next day. I just did it. I didn’t really notice that I wasn’t tired until I thought about it later.”
Every night Dallas would look in the mirrors in the sealing rooms. His reflection seemed to stretch into eternity. He tried to see the end but never could. Eternity is sometimes a hard concept for the mind to grasp, and Dallas thought about it every night. He knew that the temple was the place to be if the eternities are to be a place of progression.
“I felt the temple became a part of me,” said Dallas, “because I spent so much time there. I liked how it felt. It definitely makes me want to go back.”

And in a way, she has. Sage’s story has been published throughout the United States. “Since the articles started coming out, we get letters from all over the country,” Michael says. One was from a lady dying of cancer; she had cut a picture of Sage from a magazine and put it where it could be easily seen. “Now when I hurt,” she wrote, “I look at that and say, ‘You foolish woman, what have you got to be sad about?’”

The doctors said she wouldn’t live, but Iris JoAnn Alvarado is thriving. Her faith, and the faith of her family, has preserved her life many times. When her mother was about to give birth to JoAnnie, the stake patriarch came to their home. He felt impressed to give Sister Alvarado a blessing. She didn’t understand then why she needed a blessing, but she did after JoAnnie was born. Her little girl weighed only a little more than four pounds, and the doctors discovered that throughout the pregnancy she had not gotten much oxygen and that the last three months she had probably not received enough nourishment. The Alvarados were told that she would die and that if she didn’t, she would have severe brain damage from the lack of oxygen.
But JoAnnie’s family prayed for her, and their prayers were answered, because she lived. At four months she was standing; at eight months she could walk. When she started talking, it was in short sentences and the words were very clear—there was obviously nothing wrong with her brain. Today, at nine years of age, she continues to excel, getting straight As in all her school classes.

In 2015 an Area Seventy visited Mongolia and provided training concerning the public affairs efforts of the Church. Odgerel Ochirjav, president of the Ulaanbaatar Mongolia West Stake, was unsure how to proceed. Then in January 2016 his brother-in-law called and said, “I was watching Mongolia’s Got Talent. … I had a strong impression that your Church choir should participate.”
President Ochirjav discussed the idea with the choir director, Sister Unurjargal Purev. She and the choir members were enthusiastic about the possibility. The choir became known as Zion, or “SION,” an acronym in Mongolian for spirit, faith, mind, and unity.
For the first round of the competition in March 2016, SION peformed a mash-up of two songs. One judge said, “I see your faces light up! … We need to put your video on YouTube to showcase this show to the world.”
Another judge asked the choir what they would do if they won the grand prize of U.S. $50,000. He was impressed when they said they wanted to donate it all, as a special Christmas gift, to an orphanage.
Of the 400 participants, SION was among the 200 who advanced to the second round, but their performance was scheduled for the same day as a multi-stake youth conference, which involved half of the 35 choir members. The choir decided to go to the second round, so they hired a bus and, following their performance, traveled eight hours to the youth conference.
Of the 200 acts, SION was among the 32 to advance to the semi-finals. The choir began to be featured on social media related to Mongolia’s Got Talent.
They practiced from June to September to prepare for the semi-finals. On the day of the performance, they woke up at 4:00 a.m. in -29 degrees F (-34 degrees C) weather. Sister Nomuungerel Enkhtuvshin, a choir member, said, “Many members of our group caught a cold. But they got better as we prayed for them.”
People throughout Mongolia viewed the show and texted in their votes.
Brother Shijir Purevdorj said, “As a result of this TV show, many people are cultivating a positive attitude toward the Church.”
Choir members themselves also received blessings. Brother Odgerel Tumursukh said, “We devoted our attention and time for a whole year while managing our jobs and other facets of our lives. Although it was difficult, we have received many blessings. I have learned to manage my time and make sacrifices for the Lord.”
In addition to increasing their faith, members of the choir gained self-confidence, developed friendships, and learned unity. “Singing in the choir has helped us to learn how to forgive and support one another,” said Brother Ganbaatar Ulziiduuren. “We have become more united.” Sister Bilguunzaya Tungalagtuul learned “that I should never doubt myself or think that I can’t do something.”
Brother Bayartsogt Lhagvajav said, “Singing in the choir has brought many blessings to my family, and it also helped me to receive the answers I was seeking for some time. Our leaders offered us solution[s]. … It has affirmed my testimony that our leaders are called of God.”
“When I participated in Mongolia’s Got Talent,” Sister Onon Dalaikhuu explained, “I learned that encouraging and supporting each other [was the] key to [our] success.” Sister Dalaikhuu’s responsibilities included organizing crew members, which helped strengthen her leadership abilities. She added, “We felt that [the] Lord guided and influenced us. Many of us were sick, busy, tired, and feeling overwhelmed. However, when we prayed together, somehow we would find more power and desire to endure.”
Although the choir didn’t receive enough votes to move on to the finals, their performances gave the Church significant exposure throughout Mongolia. President Ochirjav explains, “We were obedient to an assignment by our priesthood leaders, and the Lord prepared a way. … Now the whole city [Ulaanbaatar] talks about the Mormon choir’s participation in Mongolia’s Got Talent.”

About two months before prom is an awkward time in the life of high school girls. We want someone to ask us to the dance! For that to happen, you sometimes have to send some subtle hints in the direction of a few likely candidates.
I was starting to feel some possibility vibes from an old friend. He was not a member of the Church, but we had been square dance partners in fourth grade—a weak but definite connection. The old strategy of “his friends telling my friends to tell me” was in full force. And there was a tension, a new electricity, when we actually did talk to each other.
One night after a basketball game, we saw each other at a party. We met as I was on my way out and he was on his way in. My friends and I had realized immediately that this was not a party we should be attending. Most of the kids were drinking, and we had decided long ago not to drink or be where others were drinking.
For a moment, he stopped to talk to me. My friends waited patiently a few steps away. But I could feel the “remember who you are” message being sent from their anxious faces. He asked me to stay. Momentarily, I thought of the coming prom and my need for a date. I knew this was his first move and my next words would determine mine. But then I said, “Oh, you know I can’t stay here.”
“I know,” he said. “I just thought I would ask anyway. That’s okay.”
I left with my friends. And he did not ask me to the prom. I went with a good friend from another ward.
A few years later, my new husband and I were attending Brigham Young University. During the holiday break, I was working at a bookstore in my hometown that sells Latter-day Saint books. One day before Christmas, my old friend—the square dance partner, not the prom date—walked in. Excited at seeing old friends, we chatted for a few moments. Then I suddenly realized that he probably thought this was a typical bookstore. People often made that mistake. After all, why would he be looking for books related to the Church? So as politely as possible I said, “You know, we only sell things related to my church.”
“Oh, I think you can help me,” he said, “because I am looking for a set of scriptures to take on my mission.”
He told me that after high school, he had attended a small college to play ball. Several Latter-day Saint players had invited him to some institute classes. The rest was history.
For a moment, my thoughts went back to that night standing outside the party. I was once again glad for making the right choice. And I was grateful for some college ball players who had made a difference in the life of my friend.

In 1918 Brother George Goates was a farmer who raised sugar beets in Lehi, Utah. Winter came early that year and froze much of his beet crop in the ground. For George and his young son Francis, the harvest was slow and difficult. Meanwhile, an influenza epidemic was raging. The dreaded disease claimed the lives of George’s son Charles and three of Charles’s small children—two little girls and a boy. In the course of only six days, a grieving George Goates made three separate trips to Ogden, Utah, to bring the bodies home for burial. At the end of this terrible interlude, George and Francis hitched up their wagon and headed back to the beet field.
“[On the way] they passed wagon after wagon-load of beets being hauled to the factory and driven by neighborhood farmers. As they passed by, each driver would wave a greeting: ‘Hi ya, Uncle George,’ ‘Sure sorry, George,’ ‘Tough break, George,’ ‘You’ve got a lot of friends, George.’
“On the last wagon was … freckled-faced Jasper Rolfe. He waved a cheery greeting and called out: ‘That’s all of ’em, Uncle George.’
“[Brother Goates] turned to Francis and said: ‘I wish it was all of ours.’
“When they arrived at the farm gate, Francis jumped down off the big red beet wagon and opened the gate as [his father] drove onto the field. [George] pulled up, stopped the team, … and scanned the field. … There wasn’t a sugar beet on the whole field. Then it dawned upon him what Jasper Rolfe meant when he called out: ‘That’s all of ’em, Uncle George!’
“[George] got down off the wagon, picked up a handful of the rich, brown soil he loved so much, and then … a beet top, and he looked for a moment at these symbols of his labor, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Then [he] sat down on a pile of beet tops—this man who brought four of his loved ones home for burial in the course of only six days; made caskets, dug graves, and even helped with the burial clothing—this amazing man who never faltered, nor flinched, nor wavered throughout this agonizing ordeal—sat down on a pile of beet tops and sobbed like a little child.
“Then he arose, wiped his eyes, … looked up at the sky, and said: ‘Thanks, Father, for the elders of our ward.’”

The Naidus have been inspired by Gurcharan S. Gill, a retired professor of mathematics from Brigham Young University and former and first president of the India Bengaluru Mission from 1993 to 1995.

President Gill is from the village of Dhudike outside the town of Moga in the Punjab. Although he has lived in the United States for 65 years, he is still very connected to his Indian heritage.

As a young man, he lost his older sister Nasib to hepatitis in 1953 and then his youngest brother to bone disease in 1954. “I wondered what happened when people die,” he said, “but found no satisfactory answer.” His questions were answered when, as a young graduate student in California, he came into contact with the Church.

President Gill described his spiritual journey. “In 1955, I went to a lot of churches in Fresno, California, and asked these questions but found no satisfactory answers. The mother of my classmate suggested that I should look for answers at [The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints]. Another LDS classmate invited me to attend a stake conference. I went to the stake conference and heard about the plan of salvation. A miracle indeed! At the stake conference I met the stake and full-time missionaries and they taught me the true gospel. It took eight months of learning. In January of 1956, I was baptized and shortly thereafter I received a wonderful patriarchal blessing. The patriarch promised me that my mission in this life is to help redeem my ancestors.”

“In 1986,” he said, “I went back to India with my parents to visit relatives and found my four generations. I also found tax revenue records for my ancestors who were landowners. Using those records, I went back eight generations.”

Since 2003, he has devoted most of his time to family history. “This is missionary work!” he said.

In 2010, he received permission to photograph tax records in 320 villages where his family was from. “Using those records,” he said, “I have found the names of 250,000 ancestors and relatives and have traced my genealogy back to 2200 B.C.”

Now he spends six to eight hours a day poring over digitized land records researching the Gill Clan. “If you seek, you shall find,” he said.

Dr. Gustov Eckstein, one of the world’s renowned ornithologists, worked in the same laboratory for over twenty-five years. He bred and crossbred species of birds. He kept meticulous records on the varieties and hybrids of birds in his laboratory. Each day when he would enter his laboratory he would go down two or three stairs to the stereo. He would put on classical music and turn the volume up very loud. Then he would go about his work. The birds would sing along with the classical music. At the end of the day, about 5:30 p.m., he would turn off the stereo and leave for home.
After twenty-five years he had to hire a new custodian. After Dr. Eckstein left the laboratory, the new custodian thought the place should be aired out, so he opened all the windows.
The next morning when Dr. Eckstein went into his laboratory he saw the open windows and noted that every bird had flown out during the night. He was devastated, his life’s work ruined. By sort of habit or instinct, he went to the stereo and turned the classical music up very loud. Then he went and sat down on the steps, put his head in his hands, and wept.
The strains of music carried out through the open windows, through the trees, and down the streets. In a few moments Dr. Eckstein heard a fluttering of wings. He looked up and saw that the birds were beginning to come back into the laboratory through the open windows.
Dr. Eckstein said, “And every bird came back!”