Gospel Story Finder

Once when I was six years old, my sister, Jessica, and I were at the department store at the mall with my mom. We were looking at things, and we didn’t know our mom was leaving. I went to another section close to where my sister was. Then I noticed that my mom and Jessica were gone. I said a prayer, and I felt like I should find Jessica first. I found her, and then we found my mom in the shopping line. I am glad I listened to the Spirit.
Natasha Jones, age 8Copley, Ohio

As a young man, I visited many denominations and was confused because each one taught different interpretations of the scriptures. I did not feel good about the irreverence I found in some of them, so I gave up trying to find a church to attend.
Several years later a friend of mine, Cleiton Lima, was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He did not mention this to me even though we were good friends, but as time went by, I began to see changes in him. On Sundays I usually went to his house in the morning so we could play football, but I could never find him at home. This happened two or three Sundays in a row. Finally Cleiton told me that he could no longer play football on Sundays because he was honoring the Lord’s day. I told him, “This church is making you crazy.”
Then Cleiton invited me to attend church. I gave him an excuse because I was still disenchanted with religion. For 10 months, Cleiton brought over missionaries to teach me, but I always excused myself or told them I was too busy. But he never gave up.
One day in June, he invited me to attend a Church dance. I teased him, “Is there going to be free food and a lot of girls?” Laughing, he said yes!
I have to admit that I was defeated by my stomach. I visited the church and loved it. I was welcomed by everyone, I ate a lot, and I became interested in attending a meeting. When I arrived at church on Sunday, I met many people and heard their testimonies. I was not familiar with the Book of Mormon, but I felt the Spirit of the Lord when various Church members testified, “I know that the Book of Mormon is true, that this is the Church of Jesus Christ, and that Joseph Smith was a prophet called by God.” I had never felt so good. I still did not want to meet with the missionaries, but that testimony meeting touched me.
The next week, Cleiton again invited me to go to church. I couldn’t because I had another obligation. I could see the sadness in his face when I told him I didn’t know if I could go.
However, on Sunday morning I awoke with a desire to go to church. I got up at 6:50, which was difficult for me, and I got ready and waited for Cleiton to come. He was surprised when he saw me dressed and waiting. That Sunday the bishop taught about the priesthood. I felt the Spirit strongly and had the impression that I should take the missionary lessons. By the end of the Young Men meeting, I knew that I was going to be baptized.
When church ended, I told Cleiton, “I want to be baptized!”
He thought I was joking. But then he said, “If I call the elders, will you meet with them?” I answered yes.
I was taught by great elders. When I heard the message of the Restoration, I had an even greater confirmation that I should be baptized. But I wanted to know for myself the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. The elders marked Moroni 10:3–5 in my Book of Mormon and invited me to pray and ask God if it is true.
The next evening I remembered that I had not yet read the Book of Mormon. As I began to read, I felt a very strong spirit. I prayed, and before I was finished, I knew that the Book of Mormon is true. I am grateful to God for having answered my prayer. I was baptized in July 2006.
I later served as a missionary in the Brazil Cuiabá Mission, and my friend Cleiton served in the Brazil Santa Maria Mission. We did what Cleiton did for me: invite people to come unto Christ and help them receive the restored gospel through exercising faith in Jesus Christ, repenting, being baptized, and receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost. This truly is the way to salvation.
Let us always invite our friends and relatives to learn of this gospel, for the Savior invited everyone when He said, “Come unto me” (Matthew 11:28). I know that this is the Church of Jesus Christ and that now is the time to invite everyone to come unto Him.

“When I was 12,” says Loukia, “I went to church for the first time and was so happy, but then I realized that I was the only one my age. Now, two years later, we have so many young women that for the first time we were able to have Young Women Camp.” As they met together, she says, “I realized what it means to be a Latter-day Saint. When we live the gospel, a light surrounds us.”
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“Loukia C., 15, bore her testimony for the first time at Young Women camp and was later baptized.”

“But, Pa, I’m bigger now! See?” Joshua said as he stood on his tiptoes.
“I do see how big you are,” Pa said. “Come over here to the measuring wall. We’ll measure again.”
Joshua ran over to the measuring wall and stood as tall as he could. Pa took a pencil and put a mark on the wall just above Joshua’s head. It was a little higher than the last one.
“Well, I’ll be!” Pa said. “You’ve grown one-eighth of an inch!”
“I knew it! Can I ride Dugan today?” Joshua asked as he jumped up and down.
“I think you just might be big enough to ride the horse,” Papa said.
Joshua was so excited! He went to the corrals with Pa and watched as Pa put a bridle and harness on Dugan.
“Why didn’t you put a saddle on her?” Joshua asked.
“Because today we have work to do with her,” Pa explained. “We are building a fence. You and Dugan will get to help.”
“Really? How?” Joshua asked.
“We will put a chain around the poles that are in that pile by the barn. Then we will hook them to the harness on Dugan and she will pull the poles where they need to go,” Pa said.
Joshua sat on the fence as Pa put a chain around the poles. He looked at Dugan. “She is a really big horse,” he thought. He began to feel nervous.
Pa finished chaining the last pole. “Ready, Joshua? Come over here and I’ll lift you up.”
Joshua climbed down the fence slowly and walked over to Pa with his head hung low.
“What’s the matter? Have you changed your mind?” Pa asked.
“Maybe I better wait until tomorrow,” Joshua mumbled. “I’ll be even bigger then.”
“I bet you won’t be scared anymore after you get on the horse. I won’t let you get hurt. I’ll walk beside you and lead Dugan to the place where we unload the poles,” Pa said.
“Really? You’ll be with me?” Joshua asked.
“You bet I will,” Pa said. He reached down and lifted Joshua onto Dugan’s back in one big swoosh.
“Wow! Look how high I am!” Joshua said. He grinned from ear to ear.
As he rode, Joshua looked at Pa. He realized that Heavenly Father would always be there to help him too. He would lift him up. He would walk beside him. And knowing that, Joshua could do anything—even ride a really big horse.

Youth in the Danville California Stake spent an entire summer getting to know more about the Restoration of the gospel when they performed Brother Joseph, a play about the life of Joseph Smith.
A few weeks prior to the performance, the youth took a three-part challenge to only say kind and positive things to others, to pray at least morning and night, and to keep the commandments and read their scriptures. This extra effort, in addition to their hours of rehearsals, made this a play to remember for both the audience and the cast.

My teachers were heaven-sent. May I mention but a few: our former stake president, Harold B. Lee; President Marion G. Romney; and President J. Reuben Clark.
Brother Romney was a frequent visitor to our stake and region. One evening he taught us the principle of faith by retelling the inspiring account of Elijah and the widow at Zarephath (see 1 Kgs. 17:8–16). He liken her circumstances to those of some widows in our area. As he taught welfare precepts from the handbook and responded to questions, one brother asked him, “Brother Romney, why do you seem to know whatever’s in that handbook?” to which Brother Romney, with that twinkle in his eye and smile upon his lips, responded, “I wrote it!”

Robert Rightenour, a 14-year-old teacher from the Seattle (Washington) First Ward, spent six months at a special sports training school in Trencin, Slovakia, one of the first Americans ever to attend the school. While he was there, Robert attended the tiny branch, which consisted of seven members and two missionaries.

When Robert wasn’t training with world champions in canoe racing and kayaking, he spent time as a home-teaching companion with the missionaries.

Robert also helped his family do their genealogy. Many of his ancestors came from Slovakia, and he has met several relatives in the nearby town of Svidnik.

“Thank you, President, I’ll be there tomorrow.”
What a great man, I thought to myself as I hung up the telephone. The president of the Mississippi Jackson Mission had just called me to serve a two-week mission in the Bossier City, Louisiana, area. What a way to find out what true missionary work is like, I said to myself over and over.
I spent the next twenty-four hours packing, praying, and preparing myself for everything I could possibly come in contact with during the next two weeks. I prayed that I would be helpful to the missionaries, Elders Abbott and Watkins, with whom I would serve.
Saturday came quickly. My family drove me to Bossier, where we ate lunch before I telephoned the elders to let them know I was ready. After what seemed like an eternity but was only ten or fifteen minutes, the two young men, only a few years older than myself, arrived in their mission car. I didn’t know what to do or how to act, but I timidly introduced myself to Elder Abbott. What a spiritual giant, I thought; I can’t possibly be of any help to him. And I wondered why I was there.
After meeting Elder Watkins, I had nearly convinced myself that I couldn’t be of help to either of them.
I said good-bye to my family, and before I knew it the elders and I were out on the streets knocking on doors. I was amazed at how eloquently the elders approached the people. After an hour of tracting, Elder Abbott turned to me and said, “You can introduce us at the next house, Brother McWhorter.”
“I can’t,” I said embarrassed.
“Yes you can,” he said. “You’ve got to think positively. There may be a potential convert to the Church living here.”
“Okay, I’ll try,” I answered.
I knocked at the door.
As the door opened I could feel my heart sink within me. The room was filled with drunken teenagers—I was only a teenager myself. As I introduced myself and my companions, they began mocking and tempting us. Why me, Lord? I silently asked.
I didn’t knock on another door the rest of the evening. Later that night I began thinking about my day as a “full-time” missionary. Why did I have such feelings? Why was I scared to talk to people about the gospel? How would I be able to serve a two-year mission if I couldn’t even stand up to people and share the truths of the gospel for two weeks? I decided that there was only one way to get help.
As I knelt down in humble prayer and poured out the desires of my heart to Heavenly Father, a peaceful, comforting feeling came over me. A still, small voice told me to search the scriptures. I began going through the pages of my Bible when I saw a verse outlined in red. It was a scripture I had marked in seminary class. As I read it, I knew my prayer had been answered. A warm feeling of insight and understanding came over me as I read: “For it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth” (Rom. 1:16).
Never before had this scripture meant so much to me as it did now. “The power of God unto salvation,” I said aloud. I need not be ashamed of the gospel because it is the very key to salvation. Without it, not one soul will ever progress after this life.
The next morning I awoke with a strong desire and determination to spread the gospel.
Today, already five of the people I helped teach in those two weeks have joined the Church. What a strength we can receive through listening to the promptings of the Spirit!
I vividly remember the feeling I had as the Holy Ghost bore witness to me of that important scriptural message found in Romans. And to this day when I am confronted with an opportunity to share the gospel, that same still, small voice whispers in my ear, “the power of … salvation, the power of … salvation.”

When Jasmine was finally able to communicate with her daughter, she realized there was good reason to worry about her. As the hurricane approached the island, the daughter and others gathered in a building to be sheltered from the fierce winds and rain. As the building started to flood, they ran to another shelter. As they settled, the storm shattered the windows, cutting the individuals with the flying glass. As they continued to find refuge elsewhere, they found another room only to have the roof fly off. The only building left was a generator room, 4 ft x 4 ft in size, where 19 individuals, along with the generators and machines, packed themselves on top of one another for about five hours as they waited for the storm to pass. They were all wet from the rain and cut from the shattered windows, and everyone thought they would not make it out alive.
After the main force of the hurricane passed, they spent the night in the open, surrounded by water but so grateful to be alive. A boat rescued them and brought them to safety the next day.

Oliver could smell Granny’s brownies baking in the oven, and there was a reverent feeling in Granny and Grandad’s house. Oliver had been looking forward to this special family home evening all day.
“Our lesson is about the plan of happiness that Heavenly Father made for all of us,” Grandad said. “Tonight the kitchen is going to represent heaven, where we lived with Heavenly Father before we came to live on earth,” he said.
“Was I there, Grandad?” asked Archie. Oliver looked around the room at Granny and Grandad, Mum and Dad, and his younger brothers, Archie and Ethan.
“Yes,” Grandad said. “We were all there. And when Heavenly Father told us about His plan to create a world and to send a Savior for us, we were so happy that we shouted for joy.”
Archie and Ethan laughed and jumped up and down.
“Who was the first person in our family to leave heaven and come to earth?” Grandad asked.
“You were,” Oliver said.
Grandad left the kitchen. Next Granny left. Then one by one each member of Oliver’s family joined them in the bedroom.
“This room is going to represent the earth,” Granny said. “What are some of the things we can do here to help us return to Heavenly Father?” she asked.
“Be baptized,” Oliver said.
“Go to the temple,” Mum said.
“Choose the right,” Archie said.
Granny nodded and smiled. Then she said it was time to leave the earth and return back to Heavenly Father.
“I’ll go first,” Grandad said.
“Oh, Grandad, don’t leave!” Ethan said.
“Don’t worry,” Grandad said. “Leaving the earth is part of Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness. Soon we’ll be back together again.”
One by one, everyone went back into the kitchen. “We’re all back in heaven!” Dad said as Archie and Ethan ran into his arms.
Oliver felt as glad to see his family as if he had been away from them for a long time. He ran over to hug his brothers and Mum and Dad. Now he understood why Grandad had called it Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness.

Photographs by Richard M. Romney
Many exciting changes have come to the Church thanks to inspiration received by President Russell M. Nelson. Two of these changes have had a direct impact on the Clarkson brothers from California, USA:
Young men can now be ordained to a priesthood office in January of the year they turn 12, 14, and 16.
Youth are eligible to obtain a limited-use temple recommend beginning in January of the year they turn 12.
For brothers Matthew (15), Andrew (13), and Isaac (11), these changes have brought new opportunities to serve and progress in the gospel of Jesus Christ—not just on their own but together.
In January 2019, Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac all experienced a day of firsts. Andrew says: “Matthew became a priest, I became a teacher, and Isaac became a deacon at the same time. None of us were at the ages where we would have advanced before.”
“On my first day being a priest,” Matthew says, “I broke the bread for the sacrament and blessed it. I was kind of nervous. My hands were shaking a little bit when I said the prayer, but it was really amazing.”
New to the Aaronic Priesthood, Isaac now has the chance to learn from his older brothers. “It was cool because I was with my brothers and some of their friends,” Isaac says. “I felt the Spirit when I passed the sacrament for the first time.”
Along with receiving the Aaronic Priesthood and passing the sacrament, Isaac also attended the temple to perform baptisms. His father baptized him first, but then came a surprise:
“I got to baptize my brother!” Matthew says.
“I never expected Matthew to baptize me,” Isaac says. “But he’s a priest now, so he could. It was really a cool experience. I could feel the Holy Ghost.”
Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac aren’t the only brothers in the Clarkson family. There are four more: Levi (9), Eli (7), Sam (4), and Titus (2), and a baby on the way.
When President Nelson invited the women of the Church in October 2018 general conference to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year, Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac, along with their father and younger brothers, decided to offer Mom their support. “We’ll read it with you!” they said. Every morning before seminary, they woke up to read together.
“When we took on this challenge, I thought it was going to take a lot of time,” Andrew says. “I worried that I wouldn’t have enough time to do everything I wanted to do, like play the guitar or hang out with my friends. But I realized that it just doesn’t work like that. The more I was into reading the Book of Mormon, the more time I actually seemed to have. I realized that if I keep up on reading the scriptures as much as possible, my life is balanced. I have more time in the day.”
Matthew was going through a hard time when the family started reading every morning. He says, “I wasn’t doing well in school. I struggled with my personal scripture study and my relationship with Heavenly Father, and I kept it all to myself. I didn’t talk about it with my parents.”
However, as Matthew spent more time reading the Book of Mormon, the gospel began to take first priority in his life. He also put more effort into school. He worked hard and got his grades up.
“I also realized how much Heavenly Father and my parents love me and how much they help me. And I have a greater testimony of Jesus Christ. He has helped me overcome bad habits and helped me get my life headed in the right direction. I’m so glad we took President Nelson’s challenge as a family. It changed my life.”
Accepting President Nelson’s invitation also strengthened Isaac’s testimony. “We circled the words God, Lord, Redeemer, Savior, and Christ every time we found them,” he says. “On the day we finished, I flipped through the Book of Mormon and saw all the words I had circled. I thought, ‘Man, that’s a lot!’ I had never noticed how many there were. I felt much more spiritual reading the Book of Mormon. I’m glad we did it.”
Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac are amazed that their family finished the Book of Mormon in just two months. “It usually takes us a year,” Isaac says. Together, they discovered the blessings of following the prophet’s invitation.
“If you do what you’re supposed to do,” Andrew says, “like building a relationship with Heavenly Father through prayer, scripture study, and staying fully active in the Church, life is so much better.”
These three brothers have helped each other progress in the gospel. They follow the prophet, who has called on members “to increase their faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and in His Atonement, to … [make] and [keep] their covenants with God, and to strengthen … their families.”1

I know a young man who was thrilled to be selected for an all-star basketball team to play in a tournament in another state. The first evening at the hotel, the other roommates decided to watch pornographic movies. This boy left the room and walked the city by himself well into the night until the movies were over. I am sure it was embarrassing, lonely, and challenging. But that is courage; that is manhood in its truest sense. And I say, “Behold a man!”—an 18-year-old boy turned man. I know hundreds of young men who have withstood ridicule and embarrassment to turn down drugs, alcohol, and illicit sex in order to turn to serve one another, provide a righteous example, or defend the principles of righteousness. All young men must face the wiles of Satan. It is impossible to escape this fight. But it is always possible to come out victorious. Yes, a true man is strong enough to withstand the wiles of Satan.

After two years as stake director of public affairs, I was given the opportunity to join the Interfaith Council as a second to Julie Jones who represented the Church. I made it my mission to go to as many other faiths’ places of worship and activity as I could, working around my own church attendance. In reaching out, I came to experience some ‘holy envy’, to see some of the inspiring and faithful worship practices of others that could enrich me; by stepping into their places of worship, it was possible to meld hearts.
I made so many friends among the other faiths, found such goodness out there, that my life has been blessed enormously. It has given me so much hope and optimism for the future. It reminds me that the world is a good place, despite much wickedness and confusion. We know that come the Millennium, good people of all faiths will be there, making the Zion communities for which we all long. I have found many of them here in Wales; they can be found wherever you live.
Fortunately for me, Julie Jones had been the interfaith specialist for the adjoining Merthyr Stake and had done a great job in representing the Church and getting the Interfaith Council for Wales (a voluntary body of faith leaders, chaplains, and representatives of local interfaith bodies) to meet for more than their annual administrative meetings, and to start learning about each other. There were now several activities that I was invited to attend with her, several put on by the Interfaith Council and others put on by the faiths themselves.
It was during this time that I felt inspired to start a Welsh Interfaith Choir, with our stake choir director, Lisa Pengilley, as chorister. It was popular and attracted around 50 people for regular monthly practices. Being involved in this choir and learning to sing the words of MP Jo Cox, who died in 2016, “We have far more in common than that which divides us,” led to many moist eyes in the room, not to mention mine.
I was keen to get as many people as possible at grass roots involved in this work and started a program of events known as Faiths in Focus, where the different faiths invited others to celebrate a festival with them. This was a great chance for members of different faiths and cultures to mix, from which further friendship developed.
These activities culminated in a big event during Interfaith Week in November 2019. (The organisation of this was personally stressful, due to the chair having resigned just three weeks earlier.) The choir sang at our chapel in Cardiff at the end of a wonderful torchlit walk between three other places of worship, supported by around 150 people of different faiths and including an MP, a Welsh Assembly member and its deputy minister. I had spent a lot of time praying for the success of the event and was powerfully reminded that this was His Church and work, and not mine—and I should not worry quite as much.
Then to my immense surprise and shock, after only a year of sitting on the Council, I was elected its chair (Julie had by now been called to important work elsewhere). I was consumed for a short time with many doubts and worries that I would sink amidst all the many things I needed to do, and how could I possibly balance my life? However, in the middle of my anxiety, I found myself reading an Ensign article which touched me, this section in particular:
“In the midst of your personal and diverse needs, to balance life’s pursuits and challenges with your spirituality, you will come to realise that balance is achievable. The Lord does not require you to do something you cannot accomplish …
“As daunting as keeping this balance may seem, I promise that one of the greatest miracles of your mortal existence will be your ability to find balance between your spirituality and other important life roles. This can take place in a way that will allow you not just to maintain your spirituality and life’s important roles at status quo, but also to grow and develop in both of these important areas.”2
Remarkably, it has proved true, and most of the time I manage to keep all the balls in the air. Curiously, ever since being chair, due to COVID-19, the Council has never met in person and yet I would say that we are much closer than ever, as we have met more often using Zoom to try and deal with the needs of people, organising service, encouraging members to take the vaccine, supporting each other’s activities, and so on. And now I am blessed with two able interfaith specialists, one from each stake.
In conclusion, my latest musings follow from recent readings in Come Follow Me (relating how some were commanded to go to Missouri, some to stay, some to sell, some to go on missions, some to teach in their locality, and so on), that we all have different life journeys, different roles to play, and we are all much needed in these roles. There is little point in comparing ourselves.
We each just need to do the best we can in the role we have been given. For me it is interesting that I was placed in my solicitor job, but there is little doubt that it has assisted my path in interfaith work; particularly in the small country Wales, where we have regular opportunity to rub shoulders with politicians, mayors, and their like. But each of our journeys is different. And sometimes God does not reveal the future all at once. And sometimes, things take longer than we think, but He has it all in hand if we just make ourselves available and listen.
Knowing that He is on our side helps us do things that we might never have the courage to do without Him. And it is our job, just like those early Saints who were asked to create Zion out of the wild, wild West, which must have seemed impossible to them, as it may be to us to build Zion here, in our own communities, particularly in troubled times.

Big teardrops splashed down Bobby’s cheeks as he watched Freddie and Dick lug Freddie’s wading pool over to Dick’s house. All the way home from school, the three boys had eagerly planned making a jungle hideout in a pile of dirt behind Dick’s garage. Dick’s father had said they could.
Freddie’s wading pool would be their hidden lake. The green branches Dick’s father had pruned from his shade trees would be the jungle trees. They would use their stuffed toys and odd-shaped rocks and pieces of bark for animals. Bobby knew where there was a crooked stick, streaked brown, that looked like a snake. He planned to put it on one of the trees for a huge python, just like in real jungles.
They were going to wear their shorts and go barefoot, like Tarzan. They’d creep through their jungle with bows and arrows, looking for wild animals. Oh, what fun they were going to have!
Bobby had rushed into his house to get a snack and to put on his shorts—and there, on the refrigerator door, was the note: DON‘T FORGET, BOBBY! Love, Mom.
He was so disappointed that he didn’t even look to see what she had left for a snack. Who’d feel like eating when he had to weed two rows of corn before he could play!
It didn’t help to remember that it was his own fault. He had fooled around all day Saturday while Dad, Mom, Susan, and Peggy did their weeding. Then, when he was about ready to start, who should come but Aunt Alice, Uncle John, Nick, and Michael.
“We’ll let it go for now. We mustn’t disappoint your cousins. They have come all the way from Bountiful to play with you,” Mother had said, adding firmly, “but you may not play after school Monday until your weeding is done.”
And there was the note to remind him.
Bobby started to cry. He felt awful. He felt even worse when he saw Freddie and Dick go by with the wading pool. They were going to make their jungle without him. And it was his own fault.
Trudging to the garden, he began pulling weeds. He started working fast, hoping to finish in time to play awhile before dinnertime. Then he remembered how Dad had told him to be extra careful to not injure the tender stalks of corn. He couldn’t work fast. He had to be careful.
When he looked down at the row of corn, it looked as long as a road that never ends. And he had two of those long rows to weed before he could play! He’d never get through in time to play jungle with his friends.
Bobby started to cry again, which, of course, only made matters worse—no weeds got pulled while he cried.
He noticed a shadow approaching and looked up. His father was standing behind him.
Usually Bobby was happy when Dad came home. But not today. If Dad was home already, it would soon be dinnertime. That meant no time at all for play.
“My boy seems upset,” Dad said.
Bobby tried to sniff back the tears.
“Those rows must look mighty long to you,” Dad guessed.
“Yes,” Bobby sobbed. “And Dick and Freddie are making a keen jungle—and I don’t get to help.”
“I know a trick,” Dad said.
“What kind of trick?”
“One that makes long rows grow shorter,” Dad answered, his eyes twinkling.
“No trick can do that.”
“Try it and see.” Dad tossed a small stick a little way down the row. “If you don’t look one bit farther than that stick, the row will grow shorter. Go on. Try it.”
Bobby started pulling weeds. In no time he had reached the stick.
“Now throw it a little farther down. But don’t look up,” Dad said.
This time Bobby seemed to reach the stick even faster. Dad tossed the stick again, and Bobby weeded to it. Again. Suddenly Bobby’s head almost touched the fence. He had reached the end of the row! “Wow! The row really did grow shorter!”
“Now do the other row the same way,” Dad suggested.
Bobby tossed the stick, then weeded to it. Again and again he tossed the stick and weeded to it. Then, as if by magic, he was through!
“Now look at the rows,” Dad said.
Bobby was amazed. The two rows weren’t shorter at all. They were as long as the other rows in the garden, just like before.
Then Bobby understood Dad’s “trick”: To make a job go faster, do it a piece at a time and work with a will. He looked up. The sun was still a long way from the mountain. Dad must have come home early. There was still time for play!
“Yippee!” he shouted. He gave Dad a big hug, hurried inside to change his pants, then got his “snake stick” and rushed to Dick’s yard to help transform a pile of dirt into a dark, mysterious jungle full of adventure and fun.

By the time Annapurna graduated from college at age 20, her parents had begun planning a traditional arranged marriage for their beloved daughter. But Annapurna never considered her dreams to be unattainable because she felt that they were not hers alone. “I had big dreams,” she says, “but actually God had His own plans for me.”
When Annapurna was 21, those divine plans started to become reality—miracle by miracle. First, she met Santosh Murala, a faithful Latter-day Saint visiting his family in Hyderabad. A medical student, Santosh was doing a surgical residency in Chandigarh, two days away by train. When they met, Annapurna and Santosh talked for half an hour. After that brief conversation, Santosh called his friend Neil Twitchell, who was then serving as India Bangalore Mission president, and confided, “She’s gold!” Santosh felt quite clearly that this was the woman he had been looking for. Annapurna felt that Santosh—the first Latter-day Saint young man she had ever met—was the man she had been praying to find.
The two exchanged a few letters, confirming their feelings. Several months later they married. Understandably, Annapurna’s family was upset at first, as was Santosh’s. But Annapurna was legally old enough to marry a man of her choosing.
Annapurna viewed this situation through the eyes of faith. “If I had married to please my parents and other people,” she says, “then my children might never have known about the Church and the whole responsibility for that would have been on my head. This one step has changed life for me and my posterity. For this life my parents may be upset with me, but for eternity they will be happy and proud of me.” In fact, Annapurna’s parents are already more accepting of her marriage. They like Santosh and even get together socially with Santosh’s parents.

“Do you think I could ever be a mighty missionary like Ammon?” ten-year-old John asked his mom as she tucked him into bed. They had just finished family home evening, and John’s mind was spilling over with all Dad had said and read from the Book of Mormon about Ammon and his mission to the Lamanites.
“I’m sure that you’ll be an excellent missionary, John,” Mom said. “The Lord needs fine young men like you, and when you’re nineteen, He’ll call you to serve a mission somewhere in this big, wonderful world. And it will be exactly where He needs you the most.”
She kissed him goodnight, and John was alone with his thoughts. Just think—me, a missionary! Boy, that will be neat! I wonder where I’ll go. It could be anywhere! He began to think of all the places he’d heard about. His Primary teacher, Brother Phelps, was a returned missionary and loved to talk about different countries. He had even been teaching them greetings in different languages.
Maybe I’ll be like Brother Phelps and go to Mexico on my mission, John thought. I would be brave, like Ammon.
He began to imagine himself and a companion walking toward a ranch and saying to a vaquero (cowboy) on a tall horse, “Buenos días, señor (Good day, sir). You are a chosen people, and the Lord has many blessings for you. I have come to tell you about them.”
Or, John thought, I might cross the ocean and go to Hong Kong! A picture of him at a little street-side food stand, like one he’d seen in a book at school, filled his mind. He remembered his Cantonese greeting as he turned to talk to a Chinese man lunching there. “Nei hou ma (How are you)? May I come to your house tonight and tell your family how you can be together forever?”
Hmmm, John thought. That would be a nice place to go—but so would Germany!
In a flash, there he was, talking to a cute little German grandma who was scrubbing her cobblestone sidewalk. His teacher had said that the German people were clean and neat and that in some of the small towns, they still wash their sidewalks on their hands and knees.
“Guten Morgen, meine Frau (Good morning, ma’am),” he said to the woman. “I am a Mormon missionary, and I have come to brighten your life.” He imagined himself handing her a Book of Mormon. Remembering how Ammon had served the king, he saw himself scrubbing her sidewalk while she examined the book.
The more John thought about being a missionary, the more excited he became. Maybe I’ll even be sent to Russia! He had seen a lot about Russia on the TV lately. At last the Russian people were allowed to learn about Jesus. Just last week his teacher had taught him how to say hello in Russian.
He cleared his throat and, to imaginary people standing with him in the square in Moscow, said, “Zdrastvweetyeh (Hello). This pamphlet in my hand holds good news for all of you. There really is a God. Joseph Smith saw Him and His Son, Jesus Christ, with his own eyes.”
“Wow!” John said right out loud. He could just see himself bringing the truth to people who were really hungry for it. Then his mind flashed to a different part of the world, and he thought, I might even be sent to Africa, where they speak Zulu!
“Sawubona (Hello)!” he said to a group of men in an African village. Holding up the Book of Mormon, he said, “This book tells of a power greater than any on earth. It’s called the priesthood. You, too, may have this power if you learn and keep the commandments of the Lord.”
Then John remembered Ammon again and how he had brought the gospel to King Lamoni. That’s what I’ll do if the Lord sends me to England!
Suddenly there he was, armed with his scriptures, in front of the queen, bowing and saying, “Your Royal Highness, Jesus Christ, the King of the whole earth, will return again to rule and reign forever. We must be ready. This Book of Mormon will help you and your people prepare for His coming.”
John’s thoughts shifted to another great nation of people who must be waiting to hear his important message. Maybe he would be chosen to teach the American Indians!
In his mind, he saw a little Sioux boy carrying a load of firewood. “Hau, koda (Hello, friend),” he said to the boy. “May I help you with your load while you take me to your father and mother? I want to tell them about your great-great-great- grandparents.” In a moment, he was teaching this Indian family all about Samuel the Lamanite prophet.
As John thought about where else he might go, the idea came to him that he could be called to serve among his own people. Why, he might even be sent to the area where his Aunt Harriet lived! His mother had told him about “dear little Aunt Harriet,” and he had always wanted to meet her. She wasn’t a member of the Church. His mother had said that Aunt Harriet just hadn’t had the right opportunity to learn the truth yet. John thought, Maybe I’ll be the one to teach her. That would be terrific!
He could see himself sitting there in his missionary suit and tie, saying, “Aunt Harriet, I would love to be in the celestial kingdom with you. Let me tell you how we can make it happen.”
At that happy thought, John yawned and snuggled deeper into his covers. In only a minute he was sound asleep.
The next morning he was awakened by the bright sunlight shining through his window. He jumped out of bed and quickly dressed. A marvelous idea had come to him. I know exactly what I’ll do. Grabbing a pair of ice skates from a shelf, he ran out the door.
Good! There was Paul, a nonmember friend, just as John had hoped. “Hey, Paul,” he called, running to his side. “Thanks for letting me borrow your skates.” He took a deep breath and added, “Now there’s something I want to share with you. It’s not something to play with, and it’s really important. More important than anything I own. It’s my church. I want you to go to Primary with me. My teacher is really cool—you’ll like him. How about it? I’ll pick you up Sunday at ten o’clock, OK?” He stood there smiling and hoping.
Paul looked at him curiously and said, “I think so. I’ll ask my mom.”
The next Sunday Paul was sitting in Primary next to John, who was being more reverent than he’d ever been. Wow, he thought, it’s great to be a missionary!

Over the 2020 Christmas period I was given an opportunity to participate, as a service missionary, in Cardiff Stake’s ‘Help for Refugees’ projects.
Necessities were packed and prepared for approximately 150 refugees at the local centre. When delivering the packages, it was very heartwarming to see the reactions of those involved, as to what was being delivered to the centre and the sheer amount. There was even a box of cuddly bears for children.
I am grateful to have had the opportunity to work alongside so many caring and compassionate people. It was a joy, that couldn’t be found anywhere else, such as when young men are so happy to see nappies for their children, and to hear their expressions of thanks.

While my father attended LDS High School, he worked and lived in the home of President Joseph F. Smith. He wrote in his life history about President Smith:
“Most great men that I have known have been deflated by intimate contact. Not so with the prophet Joseph F. Smith. Each common everyday act added inches to his greatness. To me he was a prophet even while washing his hands or untying his shoes.”
My father tells of one experience in which the prophet taught him a practical lesson late one night as he entered the Beehive House. Again quoting from my father’s life history:
“I walked with guarded steps through the office, then into the private study to the door at the foot of the steps that led to my bedroom. But the door would not open. I pushed and I pushed to no avail. Finally I gave up and went back to a rug that I had noticed in the hall with the intention of sleeping there until morning.
“In the darkness I bumped against another partially opened door and the collision awakened the prophet. He turned on the light and, seeing who it was, came down the stairway and inquired concerning my difficulty.
“‘The door is locked that leads to my room,’ I explained. He went to the door and pulled instead of pushed, and the door opened. Had he been disturbed by my foolish blunder I would not have been surprised, for I had robbed him of a precious night’s sleep by a thoughtless act. He only smiled and stopped to inquire of a strange stable boy what I had stumbled into. I pointed to the half open door at the other end of the hall.
“‘Let me show you something.’ He took time at midnight to explain, ‘When in the dark, never go groping with hands parted and outstretched; that permits doors to get by your guard and hit you. Keep your arms in front, but hands together; then you will feel with your hands and not your head.’ I thanked him and moved to my quarters. He waited until I reached the rear stairway and then he retired.”

As a member of the German military, I spent more than half of 1999 in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina. My military assignment came with great challenges and long hours, but I always took time off to attend church in a small chapel used by various denominations in our camp of 750.
When I arrived at the chapel one Sunday afternoon, I found the doors locked. I learned that the other members of the Church in the camp had been transferred. I was disappointed because I had looked forward to worshipping and partaking of the sacrament. Before coming to Sarajevo, I had been busy serving as a branch president in Germany and was able to partake of the sacrament regularly.
Several weeks later, I was assigned to accompany my general on a visit to an American division. During lunch, an American captain who had seen me talking to other soldiers asked if I was a member of the Church. After I told him I was, he gave my name and contact information to the senior group leader of the Church there.
Soon a Brother Fisher contacted me. Following an interview, he set me apart as the group leader of the Church in Sarajevo with the assignment to set up a group. (A group is a Church unit in military installations, similar to a branch.)
I began posting meeting times on bulletin boards and sending out invitations, hoping to find other Latter-day Saints in military barracks in Sarajevo. For the first few weeks, no one else attended. So on Sundays, I sang, prayed, and gave talks by myself. Following Church guidelines for leaders and members in the military, I was able to bless and partake of the sacrament without a second priesthood holder. This brought me great joy.
I held my solitary meetings in English so I could improve my English language skills. The first talk I gave was about Joseph Smith. No one visible was in the room, but I sensed the presence of others. The Holy Ghost strengthened me and revealed to me how important it was for the work of the Lord to begin anew in this place.
A few weeks after I held my first Sunday meeting, a young American soldier entered the chapel. She had been baptized only a few months before. I was so happy! Two weeks later, another sister arrived. Then two brothers came. With the help of the Lord, the Church began growing in Sarajevo.
Now the Church has a branch in Sarajevo. As I remember my time there, I reflect on the honor the Lord gave me to serve in a special way—to be a little cog in His work and to know that “out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

Dad grew up in the eastern United States. Mom grew up in a Latter-day Saint home in Utah. They met while working in California and dated for several months. When Dad moved back to his parents’ home, he missed Mom and sent for her. Little did he realize how his decision to marry a Latter-day Saint would affect the rest of his life.
Because both Mom and Dad loved their families, it was hard for them to decide where to live. When my brother and I were young, our family moved back and forth between Utah and the East Coast several times. When we lived in the East, Dad would sometimes drive us to a nearby town so we could attend the LDS branch. He did not feel comfortable going in with us, so he waited in the car.
In good weather we would find a large shade tree to sit under after church, and Dad would get the picnic basket out of the car. As we ate, Mom would encourage my brother and me to tell Dad what we had learned in sacrament meeting.
When we moved west to live near Mom’s family, we went to church more often. Although we no longer had picnics, we enjoyed wonderful meals around the dinner table. Each Sunday we would tell Dad what we had learned in church.
Not until my brother and I were older did we realize how much we were missing because Dad did not come to church with us. We realized if we wanted him to go with us, he would need to be taught and baptized. Thus began our relentless efforts to share the gospel with Dad. But as the months stretched into years, we sometimes wondered if he would ever be baptized.
When I was nine, another brother was born into our family. Once again, Dad heard all the Primary lessons at the dinner table. By now, Dad was attending church with us once in a while. He would even invite the missionaries over for meals and listen to the discussions. But he would not commit to baptism.
When my older brother was called on a mission, we realized our little band of sibling missionaries would be sorely depleted. “Don’t worry,” my brother reassured us. “I’ll keep working on Dad from the mission field.” He was true to his word. In almost every letter he sent home, he was full of missionary zeal and would ask the golden question. “Dad,” he would write, “when are you going to be baptized?” But although Dad took the missionary discussions over and over, he still didn’t feel ready.
When I turned 21, I received a mission call to Uruguay. I wrote home every week, and I always included positive missionary experiences. Then I would talk about the baptisms we had had and ask, “Dad, when are you going to be baptized?”
On the day I turned 22, I received a birthday card with a message from Mom. “Your father is taking the missionary lessons again,” she wrote. “This time, he has committed to baptism!”
From then on, whenever a letter arrived from home, I fully expected to learn that Dad had been baptized. But the news did not come. And then I received a brief note from Mom: “Your father has decided not to be baptized at this time.” My heart sank. What had gone wrong? Had something in one of my letters caused Dad to back away? Over the next several months, I prayed a great deal for him. I kept writing, encouraging him to stay in contact with the missionaries.
Six months later, I received a startling message: “You are to call home immediately.” Alarmed, my companion and I ran all the way to the offices where international calls could be made. A telephone operator instructed me to wait in a phone booth while she placed the call for me.
When the phone rang, I picked it up. My mother was on the line. “What’s the matter?” I asked, panicked.
“Sheila,” she responded, in an excited and very happy voice, “your father was baptized today. He woke up this morning and said, ‘I want to be baptized. Will you call the bishop and ask him if it’s all right to do it today?’ So I called the bishop, and he arranged everything.” My older brother had performed the ordinance in the ward meetinghouse at noon.
As Mom spoke, my fear vanished and my heart filled with gratitude and joy. After all the years of working and waiting and praying, we were finally a complete member family.