Gospel Story Finder

Paris, France, was a dark place in many ways in 1939. The defeat of our soldiers had already begun, and a stream of Parisians began abandoning the city. By the summer of 1940, Germany had occupied France.
My father was requisitioned under the Service du Travail Obligatoire (Compulsory Work Service) and sent to Germany to work in a factory. Mom and I stayed together, working odd jobs to make ends meet through the difficult years of the occupation.
One day on the way home from work in the summer of 1944, I rode my bike through the Place de la Concorde and found myself in the middle of a battle. German tanks crowded the square, and confusion reigned as shots came from all sides, including from rooftops. A German soldier grabbed me by the arm and shoved me behind his tank, saving my life.
After that, change came quickly. The Allied armies soon entered and retook Paris. France celebrated, but Mom and I could not participate in the general outburst of joy. We had heard no news of Dad. French prisoners slowly returned, but we wondered how those who had worked in German factories had fared.
One night, without notice, Dad arrived exhausted and unshaven. He told us about his miraculous escape from Germany and his journey on foot, by bicycle, and via train through Hungary and Czechoslovakia.
Our family was together again, and our joy was full.

Making the right choice was not always easy. My father and mother had a difficult time providing for their large family, so those of us who were old enough did our best to help out. When I was eighteen years old, I needed to buy a pair of pants, but after sharing my salary with my family, all I had left was the exact amount I owed in tithing. I was tempted to spend that tithing money for those pants, but I paid my tithing, and during the next week I got an extra job that allowed me to buy the pants.

We have seen the manifestation of the Savior’s power in a widow who lost her husband while they were on the Lord’s errand in Bolivia. We have seen it in a young woman in Argentina who fell under a train and lost her leg, just because someone wanted to steal her cell phone. And in her single father, who now must pick up the pieces and strengthen his daughter after such an unexplainable act of cruelty. We have seen it in the families that lost their homes and every possession during fires in Chile just two days before Christmas in 2022. We have seen it in those who suffer after a traumatic divorce and in those who are innocent victims of abuse.

This is the kind of faith we saw when we visited the families after the fires in Chile. Their houses had been burned to the ground; they had lost everything. Yet as we were walking in what used to be their homes and they were telling us about their experiences, we felt that we were standing on holy ground. One sister said to my wife, “When I saw that nearby houses were burning, I had the impression that our house was going to be burned, that we were going to lose everything. Instead of desperation, I experienced a sense of indescribable peace. Somehow, I felt everything was going to be OK.” Trusting God and keeping our covenants with Him bring power to our weakness and comfort to our grief.

Even now there is a rapidly growing group of Jewish Christians. These are Jews who believe that Jesus was, indeed, the Messiah. Quite by accident I met a young couple who held that belief. Early one morning I entered a small stationery store in Jerusalem and was greeted by a friendly couple who spoke excellent English. We chatted for a few moments, and they were impressed by my Mormon attitudes, so they invited me out to lunch with them later that afternoon. After a very pleasant meal of Hungarian goulash, we talked for three hours, mostly about the similarities in our religious feelings. They were fascinated by the story of Joseph Smith and the idea of a personal, tangible God. They were especially interested in the Latter-day Saint concept of family unity and exaltation. They warmed to an invitation to attend our branch services in Jerusalem and expressed a desire to learn more about the Church. As we talked, I made a mental note to send them a copy of the Book of Mormon with my personal testimony written on the flyleaf.

I can’t take it any more!” Mindy said in desperation. Her 11-year-old sister Carrie looked up at her. Carrie stopped playing the guitar.
“I’m not a bad sister,” Mindy continued. “I don’t tell on you when you leave the bathroom messy. I help you with spelling. Carrie, I can’t take that racket any more. Have some mercy.”
Carrie didn’t have to say anything. It was always the same. She got up, carrying her guitar. Fifteen-year-old Mindy heaved a sigh of relief as soon as Carrie had left.
“Hey Carrie,” her 16-year-old brother Mark said, as they passed in the hall. “Off to the basement again?”
Carrie moved by quickly. None of her brothers and sisters could put up with her guitar playing. She was still learning and a very slow learner at that. She always ended up in the basement where no one could hear her.
“Taken a sudden interest in food storage?” her mother asked when she saw Carrie open the door to the basement.
“No,” she said glumly, “I’m going to practice.”
“In the basement?”
Carrie sighed. “Mindy kicked me out of our room. I drive her nuts. Same with Mark, Sarah, and Paul.”
“Come into the kitchen and practice there. I’d love to hear you.”
“I sound horrible.”
“No you don’t. Come on. I’d welcome the company.”
Carrie followed her mother to the kitchen and settled herself on a chair.
“Protect your ears,” Carrie warned.
“I love all music, Carrie,” her mother said.
“This isn’t even music. I play the same stuff over and over again,” Carrie complained. “How come you like music so much?”
“When I was eight I had scarlet fever. I almost died. I couldn’t do anything except lie in bed. I was really scared. Mom would sing hymns while she did the housework. It was her way of letting me know she was there.” She paused long enough to turn the oven on. “Dad bought me a music box. It played ‘Star Dust.’ I played it so much the music box finally broke. I remember not feeling so scared when the music was playing.”
“That’s why you sing so much?”
“And why I want you to play the guitar. Don’t get discouraged. You might be a little slower than your brothers and sisters, but you’ll catch on. The guitar isn’t that easy,” her mother smiled.
“I hate being the baby. Everyone is better than me.”
“They’ve had more time.”
“It ain’t fair!”
“Isn’t fair,” her mother corrected.
“That too,” Carrie huffed. Her mother kissed her forehead.
Later that evening Mindy, Sarah, Mark, and Paul met in the room shared by Mark and Paul. Paul was 17. Sarah was 19, a freshman in college.
“So what’s the deal?” Mindy asked. She then blew a bubble with the gum she was chewing. Mark tried to pop it, but Mindy dodged his finger.
“Mom’s birthday is coming up,” Sarah said.
“It’s over two months away,” Mindy said.
“I thought this should be a really special birthday.”
Carrie came in and sat down on the bed next to Paul. “What’s up?” she asked.
“I think we should give Mom the best birthday ever. I work at the bookstore, Paul at the grocery, Mark as a handyman, and Mindy does a lot of babysitting. I think our presents should be really special. She wants a crock pot.”
“We are talking money here,” Mark said, raising his eyebrows.
“Why not?” Sarah asked.
“What about me?” Carrie chimed in.
“You really don’t make that much from weeding Mr. Duran’s garden,” Sarah said slowly. “Mom will like anything you get her. Don’t worry.” She turned her attention back to the others. “Anyway, what do you say?”
“The best presents money can buy?” Mark said hesitantly.
“Sure,” Mindy piped up. “A birthday she’ll never forget.”
“I’ll just keep telling myself, ‘Honor thy mother and father.’” Paul said.
“It won’t take much of your savings,” Sarah said.
“No,” Mark said, “Mom will see how much she means to us. It might help me budget my finances a little better.”
“Exactly! Now you’re getting the spirit.”
“How about if Mark and I go together on one?” Mindy said. “I bet Mom would like a set of gold leaf scriptures. That is way too steep for my babysitting money.”
“Hey yeah!” Mark said. “I could give her the Bible, and you could give her a triple combination.”
“Sounds good,” Sarah said. “I’m going to try a stab at the crock pot. I need to learn to budget my money too,” she said, echoing Mark’s statement.
“Guess that leaves me,” Paul said. “Any suggestions?”
“I have a few,” Mindy answered, “but not for presents.”
“Mom wants to finish her four-generation sheet,” Carrie said.
“Not that kind of present. Something you can buy,” Sarah expounded.
“Oh,” Carrie mumbled.
“Maybe an antique vase. I was waiting for Fred in his father’s antique store, and I noticed a lot of nice things. I’m sure Fred’s dad would hold something for me while I paid it off. I’m certain I could find something small.” Paul paused. “In size, not price.”
“I can’t think of anything,” Carrie said.
“Mom will like anything you get her, Carrie,” Mindy said. Carrie didn’t care for the way Mindy said anything. Carrie left.
“She’s still at that age when anything is fine,” Paul remarked.
“I’ll show them,” Carrie mumbled. “I’ll buy Mom the biggest, most expensive present.” She went to the bureau in the bedroom she shared with Mindy. She kept her money in the top drawer. She dumped the jar of money on her bed. There were quite a few coins to count. She came up with $4.87. She took some money out of her back pocket. Mr. Duran had paid her that day for the weeding she had done. She had $1.50. After removing the 15 cents for tithing, she added it to the rest. It didn’t seem like very much.
She approached her father. “Is there anything I can do around the house to earn money,” she asked, “like cut the grass?”
“That’s Mark’s job. Anyway you need a little more height for that job.”
“Wash the car?”
“You can do that,” he nodded. “Going into business for yourself?”
“I just need a little extra money.”
“May I ask why?”
Carrie was uncomfortable with the question. “I’m saving for something for someone.”
“Not blackmail,” her father said kidding.
“No.” Carrie hadn’t realized it was a joke.
Her father cracked a smile. “Well, as long as it isn’t blackmail, you can wash the car. Since I’m only paying for labor, two dollars. The soap and water are mine. Sound fair?”
“Yeah, fine.” Carrie set to work. Not only did she wash it, but she vacuumed as well.
“Well, well,” her father said, “If no unclean thing may enter into the kingdom of heaven this car will have no trouble. This is a three-dollar job. Nicely done, Carrie.”
“Dad, what are you getting Mom for her birthday?”
“So that’s what this sudden desire to become Midas is all about. To answer your question, I don’t know.”
“Everyone has more money.”
“It’s not the price of the gift but the thought and love that go into it. I could buy your mother perfume. She’d smile and thank me. On the other hand, I could get her a beat-up old Beethoven music book. That would mean more to her. I would be showing her that I know what she holds dear. So when you buy a gift, it should be with a lot of love.”
“But everything costs money.”
“True. I just don’t want you to try to outdo your brothers and sisters. They have jobs,” he counseled.
“I know.”
“Nice job on the car. Thank you.”
Carrie smiled. She had listened to her father. She still wanted to get her mother a nice gift. She really wanted to show her brothers and sisters.
Carrie began working. She did a lot of work around the house. She went around to the neighbors, and they gave her small jobs to do.
The days passed. The money in the jar increased. Carrie sat on her bed, wondering what to buy her mother. The sound of Mindy playing the piano drifted her way. She heard her mother humming along as she put the laundry away. Carrie looked over at her guitar. She sighed. She and the guitar went to the basement.
Sarah went to get the crock pot. Carrie tagged along to get some ideas for a gift. There was a month until her mother’s birthday. Carrie looked at hats, perfume, records, books, clocks, everything. She knew none of them were right.
She began saying a silent prayer. “This might sound silly, Father, but I need some help. I want to find a nice gift for my mom. Could you help me find one? I know you know what she likes best. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
By the time Sarah found her, Carrie had found a gift for her mother. Sarah asked what it was, but Carrie would not tell her.
Mindy baked a cake. Sarah and Carrie made a special birthday dinner. After dinner the presents were opened.
“My word,” their mother said as she opened the gifts. “The cost.”
“We wanted to get you something really special,” Mindy said.
“But so expensive.”
Their mother gingerly fingered the new set of scriptures. Carefully she turned the pages. Her eyes moved to the vase and crock pot. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Where’s your gift, Carrie?” Paul asked.
“We saw you hoarding all that money,” Mindy said.
Carrie swallowed. “My gift only cost 58 cents, and it’s been used,” she said slowly. They all exchanged looks of puzzlement. Carrie brought out her guitar. She sat down and placed the music to “Star Dust” in front of her. She played carefully. It had been the only piece of music she had played for a month. She had practiced hours every day. With a lot of help and encouragement from her guitar teacher she had learned it pretty well.
The music was yellowed with age. There were spots on the sheets where things had been spilled. No one knew Carrie could sing until then. Her voice was soft and clear. As Carrie sang, her mother mouthed the words. Tears welled up in her eyes. Everyone was watching Carrie.
As the song ended, Carrie looked up doubtfully. She had expected criticism, but all she heard was her mother’s trembling voice saying, “Again, Carrie. Sing it once more.”

We had a seminar of our key people from various parts of the world not too long ago in Salt Lake City. There was a man from the South Pacific, Brother Bill Roberts. He had charge of all of the South Pacific at that time. Another man, Immo Luschin von Ebengreuth, from Frankfurt, Germany, plus a man from the Orient, and a half dozen or so key people from throughout the world also attended the conference. As we closed this several-day seminar with a little luncheon and a testimonial meeting, Brother Roberts in his testimony was very overcome emotionally. I wondered a little about it. He said, “You know, I want to express love for Brother Luschin.”

When Brother Luschin stood to express his testimony, he reciprocated the statements made by Brother Roberts and said, “I have in my heart a very special love for Brother Roberts. Perhaps you’d like to know why we are making these kinds of expressions. Brother Roberts was a commissioned officer in the New Zealand armed forces; I, a commissioned officer in the German armed forces. We fought each other in Africa, in Italy, and right up into Germany. At that time, we were trying to kill each other. Now, we know that that feeling has been completely erased, and we love each other with all our hearts.” That’s some idea of what the word will do as it impresses the mind and the heart of a member of the Church.

It was Sunday, and my family and I were attending the dedication services of a newly remodeled meetinghouse in our area. Just a few minutes before sacrament meeting, the stake president asked me to please drive to our ward building, three kilometers away, to retrieve an item he needed. I had just enough time to get there and back. While completing that simple errand, I had an experience that touched me spiritually—a wonderful reminder of what is important.
With just a few blocks left to go to return to the meeting, I saw ahead of me two bicycles, one large and the other quite a bit smaller, each being ridden very energetically. I recognized the cyclists at once. They were two people I knew well, a good brother from my ward and his young son. They were riding to church—just as they did every Sunday.
As I watched them, there came to my mind an image out of the future, when that boy—and his father too—will remember those bicycle rides. I thought, “What a great example this father is setting and what an eternal influence he is going to have on the precious son God has given him. That boy,” I reflected, “may grow up to cherish that experience, and perhaps he will repeat it when he becomes a father himself.”
As I caught up to them, there sprang to mind an image of my childhood memories of my own father, who used to carry me on the handlebar of his bicycle. The close relationship that develops from these kinds of experiences is a pleasure to have and tender to remember.
When I got to church, I greeted the bicycle riders with a smile and received the same in return as they expressed silent happiness to be attending church. At priesthood meeting that afternoon, I had a chance to express to this brother how impressed I had been with the picture of righteous fatherhood I had seen earlier. His face brightened, and perhaps he was surprised because what I described was such a common occurrence for him.

Increasing our faith usually starts by exercising faith in our Savior and in His promise that we will be blessed when we keep His commandments. The following story found in the Church History Centre in Johannesburg perfectly illustrates this truth.
When Johnny Poo Shuping was sixteen, he met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The glow they carried with them attracted him. He said, “They were looking for somebody to teach, and they found me. We set an appointment, and my spiritual awakening began.”
However, not long after beginning the lessons, Johnny’s father reminded him that their family belonged to a different church. He refused to allow Johnny to be baptized and insisted that he attend the family church. Finally, Johnny and his father reached a compromise: Johnny would be allowed to attend the Church of Jesus Christ only after he had attended his family’s church first. He recalled, “So for the next two years, I woke up early on Sunday mornings to attend the 7 a.m. service at the local chapel in town and would then run swiftly . . . to make it on time for my sacrament and priesthood meetings.”
When Johnny was old enough to serve a mission, he had completed his first year of university education. Because of his excellent grades, he had received financial aid to pay for his schooling. However, if he left school to serve a mission, he would lose his scholarship, and all his work to get good grades would have been in vain. Johnny took a leap of faith: he decided to earn money and prepare for a mission.
With no support for his decision at home, he treasured the support and encouragement of a family in the Church. He was grateful for the important role they played in his life for the two years he prepared for his mission. They were almost as excited as he was when he submitted his mission papers and received his call to the Uganda Kampala Mission.
Johnny diligently served his mission, even extending his time there. But eventually, he knew he had to return home, mend his relationships with his family, and figure out what to do about school.
After his return—after exercising his faith by choosing to prepare for, then serve, a mission—Johnny enrolled in the university, knowing he had a huge outstanding debt from previous years, since his scholarship had been invalidated when he left. He recalled, “Discouraged a bit and not knowing what to do, I felt I should get to campus one morning to check exactly how much I owed.
“The lady at the administration center printed out the account, and I anxiously scanned through it, looking for the ‘balance due’ section on the bill. I couldn’t find it. What I found instead was ‘credit.’ I asked the lady at the desk to explain to me what that meant. She looked into the details and found that some financial aid program had come across my grades and, impressed with what they saw, paid the entire outstanding fee I owed the school.
“Furthermore, the amount listed under the ‘credit’ section was money given to me for my good grades. What a tender mercy! I sat there, drowning in amazement at the thought that I was debt-free and ‘confused at the grace that so fully He proffers me.’1
“I remembered President Ezra Taft Benson’s (1899–1994) promise that ‘When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives.’2 I experienced the truth of that promise.”
Johnny went on to earn a degree with honors in communications and has launched his own enterprise. He obeyed the commandment to serve a mission and has never regretted taking a leap of faith and trusting in the Lord.
Based on A Leap of Faith, Everyday Saints of Africa, Marnae Wilson and Midge Nielsen, Africa Southeast Area, 2015.

When elevated to the rank of inspector, he was called in by Chief J. Edgar Hoover.
“Find John Dillinger. Stay on him. Go anywhere the trail takes you and capture him alive, if you can, but protect yourself.”
Directing a special squad of agents, Sam’s investigation zeroed in on Dillinger. A telephone tip reported that Dillinger was thinking of going to one of two Chicago movies the next night. All avenues of escape from both theaters were blocked off by federal agents the following night as they awaited Dillinger’s exit. Sam directed East Chicago and Indiana agents as well as city policemen in the ambush. Walking from the Biograph Theater on July 22, Dillinger spotted the agents and reached for his automatic. The agents opened fire. Dillinger fell.

Now, as all of you know, I am somewhat old in years. I had my 96th birthday last June. I have learned from many sources that there is considerable speculation concerning my health. I wish to put the record straight. If I last a few months longer, I will have served to an older age than any previous President. I do not say this to be boastful but rather grateful. Last January I underwent major surgery. It was a miserable experience, particularly for one who had never previously been a patient in a hospital. Following this was the question as to whether I should undergo further treatment. I chose to do so. My doctors have called the results miraculous. I know that the favorable results come from your many prayers in my behalf. I am deeply grateful to you.

I want to do something really nice for Halloween, Mary Kathleen,” Samantha said to her doll as she laid her on the bed. “It’s only Saturday. We ought to be able to think of something to do by Monday that would surprise everyone.” Samantha thought and thought as Mary Kathleen seemed to stare at her with big blue eyes. “It’s harder to think of nice tricks to play on Halloween than bad ones,” Samantha moaned.
Samantha wandered down to the kitchen, where her mother was baking cookies. “Mmmm, they smell good, Mom. Can I help?”
“Sure, honey. I’ve rolled out the dough. Will you cut out the cookies?” As Samantha placed them on the cookie sheet, they reminded her of faces. Suddenly she smiled brightly and held up a big round cookie. “Mom, can I make some witch cookies and take them to all our neighbors on Monday? It could be a Halloween family home evening treat for them.”
“I thought that you wanted to go trick-or-treating,” Mom said.
“I can do that, too, if I have time. But I want to do something nice for our neighbors first.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” said Mom. “Let’s get started. I’ll make an extra batch of cookie dough.”
While the extra cookies were baking, Samantha made white icing for the witches’ faces, red for their eyes and noses, and chocolate for their hats. Then she started decorating the faces. She had to work as fast as she could to be finished by bedtime.
Monday after school, Samantha took a stack of paper lunch sacks, wrote “Happy Halloween” on each sack, and placed ten cookies in each one. Then she put on her witch costume and made up her face to look like her cookies. Mom laughed. “I don’t know which looks scarier,” she said, “you or your cookies.”
It looked like a storm was on its way, so Samantha quickly put her sacks into a small laundry basket and started down the street. First she went to the Porters’. They answered the door so fast that all she could think to say was, “Happy Halloween.” She giggled and waved as she left. Samantha decided to go to the fire station next. Brother Sanchez, her Primary teacher, worked there. I’ll really surprise him, she thought as she headed for the station. On the way Samantha saw a group of her friends from school.
“Hi, Sam,” one of them yelled. “What do you have in your basket?”
“Witch cookies to give out for Halloween.”
“You must be kidding! You’re supposed to get treats on Halloween, not give them away. Think of all the fun and goodies that you’re going to miss.”
“I’ll go trick-or-treating as soon as I get these delivered,” Samantha explained. But as the other girls headed for the new subdivision, Samantha thought, Maybe I will miss out on a lot.
Just then Samantha felt a big drop of rain. Then another and another. Suddenly the rain was pouring down. Samantha looked for a place to get out of the downpour. The nearest building was a shelter for the homeless. Samantha ran through the front door.
“Look what the storm blew in,” a kind-looking man said. “A real live witch with a basket full of tricks.” Samantha looked around. The room was small but warm. Several people, including children, were sitting around a long table, eating crackers and hot soup. Some of them were shy, but most smiled at her. “Would you like a bowl of soup to warm you?” the man asked.
Samantha was cold and starting to get hungry. “Could I call my mom first to let her know where I am and ask her if it’s all right?” she asked.
“Sure. There’s a phone over there.”
Samantha called her mom, who said she could stay. “I’ll come and pick you up in a half hour. Then you might still have time to go trick-or-treating before family home evening.”
Everyone teased Samantha about her laundry basket of tricks as they ate their soup. The more they teased, the more she smiled, because she knew what she was going to do. When they had all finished eating, Samantha felt warm and comfortable. Everyone else there seemed to enjoy having a Halloween witch with them. She got up and picked up her basket.
“Before I go, I want to show you what’s in my basket. Instead of tricks, I have treats for you.” She passed out the cookies until everyone had some.
“Oh, look—witch cookies! Real witch cookies, just for us!” exclaimed a little five-year-old girl as she smiled at Samantha. Everyone thanked Samantha, and she felt happy about what she had done.
When her mom came to pick her up, it was still raining hard, and Samantha knew that she would be doing no trick-or-treating that night. But it didn’t matter to Samantha—it had still been the best Halloween ever!

One of my daughters used to work at the missionary training center. She told me of an elder she taught who confided in her that he wasn’t sure the Book of Mormon was true. He had prayed and prayed for a spiritual witness, but he received no answer.
My daughter prayed to know what she should do to help this missionary. The impression she received was that the scriptures were not given only so we can read them and obtain a testimony; they were given also to teach us to keep the commandments of God. My daughter shared this thought with the missionary.
Later, she saw this missionary again, looking much happier. He told her that he had finally received a testimony that the Book of Mormon is true. He knew that this witness came because he was making a greater effort to do what the Book of Mormon teaches.

Revelation to the Lord’s servants has been known throughout the dispensations. In many ways they have been inspired in the selection of officers in the Church, in prophecy, in the solution of problems. When it was necessary for President Joseph F. Smith to select counselors in the First Presidency, it was not difficult for him to select Anthon H. Lund as one counselor, but he was not able to determine who the other counselor should be, so he prayed for guidance. On the morning he was to meet with the Quorum of the Twelve to announce his selection, he received an audible revelation. He heard plainly the words “Choose John R. Winder as your first counselor.” The voice was heard again stating the same command. Brother Winder, though a member of the Presiding Bishopric, had never been considered by President Smith until he heard the voice that morning.

Elena R., 13 , also felt nervous about camp but for a different reason. She was excited to accept the Fit Challenge and to share what she was doing with her friends at school, but she was worried they might make fun of her. She invited one of her friends who is not a Church member to participate in the Fit Challenge with her, and to her surprise, the friend accepted. The two finished the challenge and went to camp together.
“I just felt like this would be a really great opportunity for her to learn about the gospel,” Elena said. “I was really excited that she was reading the Book of Mormon every day. I thought Young Women camp would be a great time to learn about the Church because we’d be around girls our age who are part of the Church.”

I am a space nut. I love the intricate formations of stars and planets. Last year, I entered a scholarship competition and won a week’s stay at a space academy in Huntsville, Alabama. I was thrilled! I would be part of a team of other young people from all over the country.
As I began making plans for the trip, a thought occurred to me: Why not try to plant some gospel seeds at the space academy? I had been taught that I could pray for missionary opportunities, and I was aching to share the gospel with others. So for days before my trip to Alabama, I prayed for “seed planting” opportunities. It was the first time I had ever asked for a missionary experience.
On the second day in Alabama I received the opportunity I had been praying for. I had set my scriptures on my bed, and one of my new friends read the title out loud as though it were a foreign language. I couldn’t believe it! My friend, Sophia, had never heard of a Mormon and didn’t know what LDS meant. I explained to her what the Book of Mormon is and what LDS stands for.
When it was time to climb into bed, we continued our conversation. The topic changed as four other girls in our room joined the discussion, and eventually we were discussing … can you guess? Boys. I casually said that I wasn’t going to date until I was 16.
As the week progressed, almost every night we’d discuss some of the Church’s standards and beliefs. We talked about language, fashion, boys, and a little about the temple, sealings, and baptisms for the dead. We talked about charity, the theory of evolution, and the big bang theory.
Now that I’m back from the space academy, I reflect on my time spent there and the friendships I developed. The most important things I learned at the space academy were not about science and space. I learned that missionary experiences are everywhere. If you open your heart and mind and listen to the Spirit, you can spread the gospel wherever you go.

Arlene
Arlene, 20, has been working as a nanny for two years. She has found a wonderful family to work for that cares for her and encourages her in everything she tries. She, in turn, does an excellent job for them and appreciates the affection they share. She has been with them nearly two years, caring for their little girl Sasha.
“Charlie and Deb are the second family I have worked for. The first family turned out to be more of a maid position than a nanny position. I was totally unhappy there. I heard from a friend that Charlie and Deb were looking for someone. I called them, and they invited me to their house. I was offered the job that evening.”
Deb talks about what they expected from Arlene before they hired her. “We asked a lot of questions of her. We asked who she was, what did she want to be when she grew up. We told her who we were and what we expected of a person who would be a part of our family. We didn’t want someone who was a maid. We wanted another family member. It was important to us, because we both work full-time, that whoever took care of our child really wanted to do that and wanted to be a partner with us.”
Charlie added, “We also wanted to be sure she was given the resources to be independent. In the suburbs of Boston, you need a car to get around all the time. She needs to have transportation when she is not working, or she would be stuck here. She needs a telephone in her room, and privacy so she can live her own life.
“We’re lucky to have the resources to have someone live in with us. Some people who hire nannies think they have bought a 24-hour baby-sitting service, someone who will be at their beck and call and who will sacrifice completely for that family. We don’t perceive Arlene that way. This is someone we recognize as a full, well-rounded individual, and we weren’t going to try to turn her into some type of servant.”
Arlene points out how being a nanny differs from baby-sitting. “When you are baby-sitting, you are responsible for who you are watching at that time, but here this isn’t just when I’m working. It’s 24 hours a day. When I’m in the home, I’m responsible. We all work as a team. The most important thing is the communication between the nanny and her employers.
“When I came out, I wanted to avoid going to school. But now I’m going to school in the evenings, and I’m a studious person. I’ve learned so much about myself and who I want to be.”
Although she was not a member of the Church when she came east, Arlene began attending the ward on her own. Eventually she became a member. Her employers came to her baptism because they knew that it was important to her and wanted to be supportive.
Arlene is now the ward’s Young Adult representative in charge of the nannies. She uses her leadership abilities to help other girls who are having problems or need encouragement.

The second statement came from a student at BYU when he offered an explanation as to why he alone among his high school friends had remained active in the Church. He said it was because of a cow. He went on to explain that while his friends had nothing to do after school and began to get into trouble, he had to go home every day to milk the cow. Although he resented it at the time, he since has been very grateful to wise parents and the cow.

During humankind’s early push into space, the unmanned rockets had no windows. But by the Apollo 8 mission to the moon, the astronauts had one. While floating in space, they were struck by the power of seeing our earth and took this spectacular image, capturing the whole world’s attention! Those astronauts experienced a sensation so powerful it has been given its own name: the overview effect.
NASA
Viewing from a new vantage point changes everything. One space traveler said it “reduces things to a size that you think everything is manageable. … We can do this. Peace on earth—no problem. It gives people that type of energy … that type of power.”

Some years ago I was called, with my wife, Jacqui, to preside over the Washington Spokane Mission. We arrived in the mission field with a mix of fear and excitement at the responsibility of working with so many remarkable young missionaries. They came from many different backgrounds and quickly became like our own sons and daughters.
Although most were doing wonderfully well, a few were struggling with the high expectations of their calling. I remember one missionary telling me, “President, I just don’t like people.” Several told me they lacked the desire to follow the rather strict missionary rules. I worried and wondered what we could do to change the hearts of those few missionaries who had not yet learned the joy of being obedient.
One day while driving through the beautiful rolling wheat fields on the Washington-Idaho border, I was listening to a recording of the New Testament. As I listened to the familiar account of the rich young man coming to the Savior to ask what he might do to have eternal life, I received an unexpected but profound personal revelation that is now a sacred memory.
After hearing Jesus recite the commandments and the young man reply that he had observed all these since his youth, I listened for the Savior’s gentle correction: “One thing thou lackest: … sell whatsoever thou hast, and … come, … follow me.”1 But to my astonishment, I instead heard six words before that part of the verse that I seemed never to have heard or read before. It was as if they had been added to the scriptures. I marveled at the inspired understanding which then unfolded.
What were these six words that had such a profound effect? Listen to see if you can recognize these seemingly ordinary words, not found in the other Gospel accounts but found only in the Gospel of Mark:
“There came one running … and asked him, Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?
“And Jesus said unto him, …
“Thou knowest the commandments, Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Defraud not, Honour thy father and mother.
“And he answered … , Master, all these have I observed from my youth.
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me.”2
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him.”
As I heard these words, a vivid image filled my mind of our Lord pausing and beholding this young man. Beholding—as in looking deeply and penetratingly into his soul, recognizing his goodness and also his potential, as well as discerning his greatest need.
Then the simple words—Jesus loved him. He felt an overwhelming love and compassion for this good young man, and because of this love and with this love, Jesus asked even more of him. I pictured what it must have felt like for this young man to be enveloped by such love even while being asked to do something so supremely hard as selling all he owned and giving it to the poor.
In that moment, I knew it was not just the hearts of some of our missionaries that needed changing. It was my heart as well. The question no longer was “How does a frustrated mission president get a struggling missionary to behave better?” Instead, the question was “How can I be filled with Christlike love so a missionary can feel the love of God through me and desire to change?” How can I behold him or her in the same way the Lord beheld the rich young man, seeing them for who they really are and who they can become, rather than just for what they are doing or not doing? How can I be more like the Savior?
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him.”
From that time forward, as I sat knee to knee with a young missionary struggling with some aspect of obedience, within my heart I now saw a faithful young man or young woman who had acted on the desire to come on a mission. Then I was able to say with all the feeling like that of a tender parent:3 “Elder or Sister, if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t care what happens on your mission. But I do love you, and because I love you, I care about who you become. So I invite you to change those things that are hard for you and become who the Lord wants you to be.”
Each time I went to interview missionaries, I first prayed for the gift of charity and that I could see each elder and sister as the Lord sees him or her.
Before zone conferences, as Sister Palmer and I greeted each missionary one by one, I would pause and look deeply into their eyes, beholding them—an interview without words—and then without fail, I was filled with great love for these precious sons and daughters of God.

Some time ago I received a touching letter from Randy Spaulding, who lived in northern Utah. The letter explained the composition of his family and then the gradual onset of an illness that took his father from a healthy, strong individual to a weak and crippled middle-aged man. The father’s physical condition deteriorated until he could not work, could not walk, became confined to a wheelchair, and was almost helpless.
Randy told how the family and ward members have taken over the care of the farm and have provided much help to the family. Father can no longer speak; Mother is his constant provider of care—yet neither of them has uttered or written those words, “Why us?”
Let me return to Randy Spaulding’s actual words. He wrote: “One morning as I was thinking about the mundane things of life and hurrying out the door to begin the day, I happened to notice my father sitting in the corner of the room reading his scriptures. I stopped and went over to speak to him. I noticed the difficult circumstances he was under. With his right hand, he was trying to hold up his head enough to see me and read the Book of Mormon. I learned that at one of the most trying times, he still had enough faith to read about a God of love, a God of miracles who heals and makes us whole, and a God of life—eternal life. My father still believes. Oh, how I long to take him back in time to the Pool of Bethesda and to ask our Master if He would please have mercy on us, so that my father, also, could take up his bed and walk.”
His letter continued: “That day I returned to my bedroom and thanked my Heavenly Father for a father and mother second to none.”