Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago I received the assignment to reorganize the Carey Idaho Stake. The plane landed at Twin Falls, and President Roy Hubert, who had served so well, met me there and drove me to his home. While we were driving, I asked him, “Is there anything I can do for you and your Saints?”
He said: “Oh, we have had a terrible drought for the last few years. This year it is particularly severe, and many farmers have left town to find employment elsewhere.”
I was so disturbed for our faithful members who love the Lord and the Church yet were losing their farms.
A young bishop, R. Spence Ellsworth, was called to serve as the new stake president. During the Sunday general session, results of the drought weighed heavily on my mind. As I was speaking, a strong prompting came. I asked them to do the following:
Faithfully pay an honest tithe, both young and old.
Humbly hold regular individual and family prayers.
Devotedly have daily personal and family scripture study.
Thankfully keep the Sabbath day holy.
Gratefully go to the temple often, there offering thanksgiving.
Willingly sustain and follow the new leaders.
Hold a stakewide fast, including everyone in the affected communities who would like to participate.
For the next couple of days following the stake conference, many members planted their crops with complete faith, even though there was no forecast of rain.
On Wednesday, under the direction of President Ellsworth, the whole stake fasted. That same week many members, the leaders, and their spouses went to the Boise Idaho Temple and offered their thanksgiving. While these faithful Saints were in the temple, rain began to fall on the entire community, though the weather forecast indicated no moisture for the next few weeks. The following Saturday, good rain fell again and continued for a few days. This happened late in the month of April. Significant snow fell in the mountains, providing enough moisture. In the Dietrich and Richfield communities, their reservoir had been under 30 percent, but after the people fasted, the reservoir was nearly full. The Carey water supply increased from about 44 percent to more than 100 percent of normal. Through the rest of the growing season, as members of the Carey Stake increased their faith by fasting a few more times, paying honest tithes, and attending the temple more frequently, the Lord heard and answered their prayers. Frost came late that year, so the farmers were able to harvest grain, sugar beets, alfalfa, potatoes, and other crops. From that day, and each year since, they have offered their thanksgiving prayers, and “because of … his tender mercies,”7 the Lord continues to bless them.

“I’m trying to be like Jesus; I’m following in his ways,” Ella sang as she hopped up the front steps and came in the door.
“Today in Primary we learned that we should be like Jesus,” Ella said to Mom. “I promised Sister Hansen I’d try to be like Jesus all week! I’m going to start right now.”
As the rest of her family came in, Ella told each of them her plan to be like Jesus. She smiled a giant smile.
Ella ran to her room and carefully hung her Sunday dress in the closet. She returned to the kitchen and helped carry the plates to the table.
The next morning, Ella got up as soon as Mom called her. She ate all her breakfast and didn’t complain, even though her scrambled eggs were too squishy.
The rest of the week Ella tried to be like Jesus, but every day her smile got a little smaller.
When Sunday came again, Ella wasn’t smiling at all.
As Mom brushed Ella’s long hair, big tears ran down Ella’s cheeks.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Mom said. “Did I pull your hair?”
“No,” Ella said. “I just didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I wasn’t like Jesus all week. It’s a lot easier to sing about being like Jesus than it is to really be like Him. Sister Hansen is going to be disappointed.”
Mom wiped Ella’s tears away. “Ella, how did you want to be like Jesus?”
Ella sniffed. “I knew I couldn’t do big miracles like Jesus did, but I thought I could do something important.”
Mom smiled. “You did lots of things to be like Jesus. You helped me find my keys when they fell under the couch. You helped Rosie and Libby practice their song for choir. You helped Gabe make a poster for his book report.”
“Those are just normal things,” Ella said. “I wanted to be like Jesus and do something big.”
Mom gave Ella a hug. “The biggest thing that Jesus did was helping us be able to return to Heavenly Father. I think helping is the biggest thing you can do too.”
Later at church, Ella was quiet as sacrament meeting started. In front of her, Sister Simmons was holding her new baby and her two little girls were wiggly and unhappy. It was hard for Ella to think about being like Jesus. One of the girls looked at her sadly.
Ella reached into her scripture bag and pulled out a pencil and a paper. She quickly drew a picture of the little girl and handed it to her. The little girl smiled as she showed the paper to her mom. Ella drew a picture of the other little girl too.
Sister Simmons smiled back at Ella. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Ella looked at Mom. “I guess helping people is being like Jesus. Helping people is the best thing I can do!”

It has been a most important influence also in missionary work. For example: When I was a young missionary, I had as a companion a wonderful man from Rupert, Idaho. His name was Elder Henry L. Baker. We tracted together in a city in eastern Canada.
As we came to one door, a woman responded to our knock and immediately invited us in—before we had a chance to give the usual door approach! Hardly had we entered the house when she said, “Where is the book you were to bring me?”
Naturally we were astonished. But she quickly explained. She said that during the previous night she had had a dream in which she saw us come to her home. It was so vivid, she said, that when she saw us approaching her door, she recognized us instantly. She was told in the dream that we had a book that would lead her entire family to salvation.
Immediately we gave her the Book of Mormon and discussed it at some length with her. She invited us to return that same evening to meet her family, which we did. After an appropriate period of study, the family joined the Church and all are still faithful and true.

Throughout the years, I have known countless individuals who have been particularly faithful and obedient. I have been blessed and inspired by them. May I share with you an account of two such individuals.
Walter Krause was a steadfast member of the Church who, with his family, lived in what became known as East Germany following the Second World War. Despite the hardships he faced because of the lack of freedom in that area of the world at the time, Brother Krause was a man who loved and served the Lord. He faithfully and conscientiously fulfilled each assignment given to him.
The other man, Johann Denndorfer, a native of Hungary, was converted to the Church in Germany and was baptized there in 1911 at the age of 17. Not too long afterward he returned to Hungary. Following the Second World War, he found himself virtually a prisoner in his native land, in the city of Debrecen. Freedom had also been taken from the people of Hungary.
Brother Walter Krause, who did not know Brother Denndorfer, received the assignment to be his home teacher and to visit him on a regular basis. Brother Krause called his home teaching companion and said to him, “We have received an assignment to visit Brother Johann Denndorfer. Would you be available to go with me this week to see him and give him a gospel message?” And then he added, “Brother Denndorfer lives in Hungary.”
His startled companion asked, “When will we leave?”
“Tomorrow,” came the reply from Brother Krause.
“When will we return home?” asked the companion.
Brother Krause responded, “Oh, in about a week—if we get back.”
Away the two home teaching companions went to visit Brother Denndorfer, traveling by train and bus from the northeastern area of Germany to Debrecen, Hungary—a substantial journey. Brother Denndorfer had not had home teachers since before the war. Now, when he saw these servants of the Lord, he was overwhelmed with gratitude that they had come. At first he declined to shake hands with them. Rather, he went to his bedroom and took from a small cabinet a box containing his tithing that he had saved for years. He presented the tithing to his home teachers and said, “Now I am current with the Lord. Now I feel worthy to shake the hands of servants of the Lord!” Brother Krause told me later that he had been touched beyond words to think that this faithful brother, who had no contact with the Church for many years, had obediently and consistently taken from his meager earnings 10 percent with which to pay his tithing. He had saved it not knowing when or if he might have the privilege of paying it.
Brother Walter Krause passed away nine years ago at the age of 94. He served faithfully and obediently throughout his life and was an inspiration to me and to all who knew him. When asked to fulfill assignments, he never questioned, he never murmured, and he never made excuses.

When our youngest child, Amanda, was two years old, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Her case was difficult, and her cancer did not go into remission following chemotherapy. She then had to have a bone marrow transplant.
While my husband and two sons were home in Utah, I stayed with Amanda in another state from September until the first part of January. We missed celebrating Christmas together, but with the end of follow-up care, we returned home.
On our first visit to the hospital for a checkup after returning home, doctors again found leukemia cells in Amanda’s blood. The transplant had failed. Hearing the news, I felt as though I were sinking right through the floor. Our family had been through a lot of worry, work, separation, and difficult times. Now we would lose our daughter anyway.
I returned home that afternoon to my two sons. While we waited for my husband to come home from work, we got out our copies of the Book of Mormon and began to read. We were in 2 Nephi 9. As we read, the following words spoke to me:
“I speak unto you these things that ye may rejoice, and lift up your heads forever, because of the blessings which the Lord God shall bestow upon your children.
“For I know that ye have searched much, many of you, to know of things to come; wherefore I know that ye know that our flesh must waste away and die; nevertheless, in our bodies we shall see God. …
“For as death hath passed upon all men, to fulfil the merciful plan of the great Creator, there must needs be a power of resurrection. …
“O how great the goodness of our God, who prepareth a way for our escape from the grasp of this awful monster; yea, that monster, death. …
“And he cometh into the world that he may save all men if they will hearken unto his voice; for behold, he suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children, who belong to the family of Adam.
“And he suffereth this that the resurrection might pass upon all men, that all might stand before him at the great and judgment day” (2 Nephi 9:3–4, 6, 10, 21–22).
As I read these words, the Holy Ghost filled the room. I felt that my Heavenly Father knew the news I had received that day. I felt that the words the prophet Jacob had written more than 2,000 years before were written to me for that day and came directly from the Savior. He knew the pain and sadness I felt after hearing that our daughter would die. And He was there to comfort our family with His promise that He had prepared a way and that one day, through the power of the Resurrection, “in our bodies we shall see God.”
Amanda lived for almost another year, but I have never forgotten that day when the words of the Book of Mormon spoke to me in my need and the Lord gave me hope, comfort, and understanding of His plan.

We stopped at a pizza parlor on the way home from the priesthood session of general conference when I was fifteen years old, and as a result I learned a lesson about tithing that I will never forget.
My father, my two brothers, and I were hungry. As we waited for our order, I saw one of my friends working cleaning off the tables. I asked him how he got the job, and he told me they still needed extra help. A few minutes later he came back and told me that the manager would interview me immediately. Perhaps it was because I was wearing a nice shirt and a tie, but the employer seemed impressed. The interview went well. I expressed my wish not to work on Sundays, and he said there would be no problem—plenty of people would work for me. I was hired to begin work as soon as I could.
During the next two years, I gradually worked my way up to the position of pizza cook. Then one evening as I began my shift, I noticed one of my scheduled days had been taken off the calendar. My boss told me that if I wanted to work the regular number of hours, Sunday was open. I worked one Sunday and felt terrible about it, so I declined to work on the Sabbath from then on. My relations with my employer started to deteriorate, and I began to look for another job.
It was interesting that although I was fairly adamant about keeping the Sabbath day holy, I was lax in obeying another commandment—the law of tithing. I didn’t pay tithing at all, unless my parents prompted me. Then I’d say, “Yes, yes,” and put something in the envelope the next week. I just couldn’t understand the sense in giving away one-tenth of my hard-earned money.
I kept searching for a job but with no results. I prayed to my Father in Heaven sincerely, confident that he would help me find employment. One evening while praying, a thought came to me. Why should the Lord help me find another job if I wasn’t paying tithing on the income from my current job?
I studied a couple of scriptures:
“And prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” (Mal. 3:10.)
I decided to obey the commandment. I went to the bank and secured a large sum of money from my savings account to pay the tithing I had missed. I took it over to the bishop’s house that very evening.
In my pursuit of better employment, I had applied for work in a shop that installed car mufflers. This was in January, and they said they wouldn’t need any additional help until the following December. Two days after I paid my tithing, someone from the shop telephoned with an offer for me to start work the next day. By the time I left on my mission, I was earning three times as much money as I had earned cooking pizza, plus a good commission. I was able to finance half of the expense of my mission by myself. Furthermore, after I had been in the mission field about a year, my employer from the muffler shop called my parents and asked if he could help pay the rest of my mission expenses.
Some might say that all these things happened coincidentally. I would be inclined to say that I was blessed because I finally started living a gospel principle. Tithing opens a door to blessings from the Lord.

When Eva found that her husband was involved with pornography, she felt “intense pain, anger, heartache, depression, and obsession.” Obsession is actually a common feeling for someone who experiences the trauma of betrayal of a spouse’s pornography use, and Eva’s behavior in response to these intense emotions is also not unusual. She began to obsess about her husband and his actions. Where was he? Who was he talking to? What was he doing? His pornography and sex addiction became the center of her life, and she desperately wanted to fix him, believing that if she could get his problem under control, they would be happy.
Eva is divorced and regularly attending 12-step meetings, where she finds safety and validation as she works on her recovery. She has come to understand that while she once made her husband’s addiction the focus of her life, healing comes as she puts the Savior at the center of her life and efforts.

After receiving my PhD I had the great blessing of becoming a teacher and witnessing the power of the Holy Ghost in assisting struggling students in their learning. Some months ago I had such an experience here on this campus. My wife, who often tutors international students in English, asked if I might help tutor a Chinese student who was struggling in her science class. As I did so, I discovered that not only was this wonderful Sister having a challenge with the language, but since this was her very first science class, even such basic concepts as atoms, molecules and compounds were totally foreign to her.

One Saturday morning, comprehending and understanding the basic principles was proving especially challenging. After a few minutes, she stopped me and asked, "Do you think we could say a prayer? I need some additional help if I'm going to understand this material." We then took the time to have a prayer and a wonderful Spirit entered the room. And while the topic did not get any easier, it was clear to both of us that her ability to learn the material was expanded and enhanced throughout the remainder of that study session.

Last June, when a new branch was created in Bangalore, India, the only young man in priesthood meeting was a recently ordained deacon named Gladwin.
Gladwin, along with the Young Men president and branch president, began calling the less-active young men and visiting them in their homes. Soon a second young man, Samuel, started coming to church again.
Each week Gladwin and Samuel called those who had not attended quorum meeting and shared what they had learned. They also called or visited them on their birthdays. One by one, the less-active young men became their friends and began to accept invitations to come to quorum activities, to attend quorum meetings, and eventually to do their own ministering. Today, all of the young men in the branch are active in the Church.

Before he was an apostle, Elder John A. Widtsoe worked for years to develop a general law related to some soil moisture studies that he had done.

One day, he concluded that the task was impossible. He decided to put this work away forever and to move on to another field of inquiry. He then went home and, in order to console himself, took his wife to the temple. It was there in the temple that day that the solution came to him. [25]

It sometimes happens that the happiness we seek in many ways and in many places is to be found where we least expect it. So it was with me. I had happiness within my grasp all the time, but for years I did not recognize it.
I was 24 years old in 1981 when I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My husband was baptized with me. At the time, our daughter, Juliana, was two years old. Our branch in Tucuruvi, Brazil, was so small that we met in a home on Avenida Nova Cantareira. For some reason, after attending meetings for less than a year, we left the Church.
By the time we moved to Guarulhos in 1983, we had no desire to return to the Church and had lost complete contact with Church members. This was a time of great difficulty for us. One day while I was sweeping the house, my husband and I decided to throw all of our old Church books in the garbage. Among the books was a copy of the Book of Mormon.
In all the time I had owned the book, I had never opened it. I considered the book of no value. But as I went to place it in the trash, Juliana, who was four years old at the time caught sight of the figure of the angel Moroni on the cover and said, “No, Mama, don’t throw that book away!” I thought of throwing it away anyway, but I looked at my husband and he looked at me. We decided to honor our daughter’s request.
And so the book remained in our home.
In 1987 I gave birth to our third child and experienced some difficult health problems. I began seeking the truth, trying to find some answers to why I was so unhappy. In despair, I began to believe there was no salvation for me.
One day in 1989, the Lord prompted me to pick up the Book of Mormon. I started to read it—and found I could hardly stop. Each day I waited eagerly for the dawn so I could continue reading. The Spirit was so strong within me that I cried. I finally understood how much I had lost by leaving the path of the Lord I had once been on.
I resolved to find the Church. Searching our telephone book, I found the Church’s name and called the number listed. We started attending meetings again and have remained active ever since. My husband and I have now been to the temple, and we are sealed as a family for eternity.
I know that the Book of Mormon is true and that if we study it constantly, we will find the strength to overcome any obstacle. I thank Heavenly Father both for my blessings and for my trials—and for prompting our daughter to keep us from throwing the Book of Mormon away. I know that had I thrown the book away, with it I would have thrown away my happiness.

As a physician, I have been with many patients who were close to death. But few of these experiences have touched my heart the way my experience with Cal and Lola Hamilton did.
At age sixty-two, Lola had been ill for years. Nearly blind from diabetes, she had severe arthritis and chronic heart and lung disease. She seemed weary, worn, and older than her years.
But her husband, Cal, did not think of Lola’s ill health as a burden. Cal was healthy and strong. He looked ten years younger than he was, and he still managed an active farming business. Yet in the two hears I had known them, his foremost concern was always his wife’s comfort and well-being.
Caring for Lola was practically a full-time nursing job. Yet Cal did most of it himself, always cheerfully and enthusiastically. Their children, all married now, also helped. The care Lola received at home was often better than she could get in a hospital.
In two years, Lola was hospitalized four times—each for a long period of time. Cal stayed with her constantly, sleeping in a chair at her side or on a little cot. He left long enough to eat a meal only if one of the children was there. Never through all those days did I hear a critical word about a nurse, a hospital worker, or anyone else. Instead, Cal praised and thanked us.
When Lola finally had a massive stroke, Cal was devastated. He never left her side. As she lay unconscious, Lola received a priesthood blessing, surprisingly promising that her full functional capacity would be restored. Because of that blessing we did everything we could to prolong her life.
The days passed and Lola remained unconscious. Cal never left the hospital, but day after day the strain and agony on his face increased and discouragement showed. He looked so thin and tired that I wondered if he had stopped eating. He caught only a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep her and there. Each time Lola’s noisy breathing caught or changed a little, he jumped up to check on her.
Such stress often brings out the worst in a person’s character. But Cal continued to be courteous. This gentle man showed dignity in his grief.
One Saturday after leaving Cal and Lola, I went back to the doctors’ lounge and slumped down on chair. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about Cal’s pain and grief.
Once again, I bowed my head to ask my Heavenly Father if there was something, as Lola’s doctor, that I could do to help. Was there something that I had left undone? I asked about Lola’s priesthood blessing. Why would anyone make such a statement? Was the priesthood holder truly inspired to say what he did?
At that moment, a thought came forcefully into my mind. The only way Lola could be restored to her full capacity was to move on to the next life. I had had this thought before, and I had even mentioned it to Cal. But this time it was accompanied by a feeling of great joy. In my mind, I could see Lola, sweet and attractive, with all her functions restored.
My grief was gone. I felt the unmistakable joy and peace that only the Holy Ghost can bring.
I left the doctors’ lounge with peace in my heart. A few hours later Lola died quietly and peacefully, and Cal finally went home.
I am grateful to Cal, who, by his example, taught me the meaning of love and sacrifice. I am also deeply grateful to the Lord for the miracle of personal revelation that turned a distressing, faith-shaking experience into a sweet, faith-building one.

However, funding college became a concern after my 46-year-old father died unexpectedly of a heart attack at home. We eventually lost our family home, and I became responsible for my own finances at the end of my senior year in high school. But the Lord provided a way. Although I had only attended one year of seminary, at seminary graduation I was offered a McKay scholarship in the form of a one-year tuition waiver. Although I had only attended one year of seminary, I was offered a McKay scholarship in the form of a one-year tuition waiver at seminary graduation.

Through my newfound faith and experience with amazing faculty and fellow students from around the world here at BYU Hawaii, I grew my love for both spiritual and intellectual pursuits. The Lord transformed a Hawaiian surfer kid into a burgeoning scholar. I was also prepared to serve a mission while attending school here. My love for teaching the gospel in the mission field opened my eyes to a career in teaching. After my mission, I returned to BYUH and fell in love with my history classes. Determined and inspired, I worked to become a History professor too.

“Easter is a good time to think about Jesus and to remember His Resurrection,” Sister Rojas said. She held up a picture of Jesus. “Because of Him, people who have died will live again.”
Alonso looked up at his Primary teacher. Does that mean I can see my parents again? he wondered.
Mamá had died years ago when Alonso was very young. Alonso didn’t remember her very well, but he liked looking at pictures of her. Then Papá died too.
Now Alonso lived with Abuela, his grandmother. She had been teaching him about her church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was going to be baptized and confirmed next year, when he was old enough.
Sister Rojas held up a picture of a white building. “Another amazing gift from Jesus is temples. This is one of the temples here in Chile.”
Alonso looked at the gold statue on top of the building. It was beautiful! He wondered what happened inside.
“Temples are where families are sealed together forever,” Sister Rojas said. “This temple in Santiago is where I was sealed to my parents after we joined the Church. Because we were sealed, I can be with them even after this life.”
Alonso felt excited when he heard that. “Could I be sealed to my parents?” he asked. “Even though they already died?”
Sister Rojas nodded. “Yes! That’s one of the reasons temples are so important. They bless all of our family members, including those who have died.”
For the rest of the day, Alonso kept thinking about temples. He asked Abuela to teach him more. She talked about the white clothes people wear inside and the beautiful artwork on the walls.
“Best of all, it’s where you can be sealed to your parents,” Abuela said. “We’ll ask two people from the ward to stand in for them during the sealing.”
“Can we go tomorrow?” Alonso asked. “I want to be with Mamá and Papá forever!”
Abuela smiled. “I’m glad you want to go,” she said. “But the nearest temple is in Concepción. We don’t have enough money for bus tickets.”
“I’ll help save for the trip!” Alonso said.
From then on, whenever Alonso found a coin on the street or had a chance to earn some money, he paid tithing and then added the rest to their temple fund.
After months of saving, Alonso and Abuela finally had enough money to travel to the temple. They asked Brother and Sister Silva to come with them. On the day of the trip, they took a long bus ride to the city of Concepción. It was almost sunset when Alonso spotted something gold in the distance.
“I can see the angel Moroni!” Alonso said, pointing to the statue on top of the temple’s blue dome roof.
They spent the night at an apartment next to the temple. In the morning, Alonso went inside the temple for the first time. He saw a big picture of Jesus. He and Abuela got dressed in white. He felt happy and peaceful.
When it was time for the sealing, Alonso walked into a beautiful room with mirrors on the walls. A temple worker showed Alonso, Abuela, and the Silvas how to kneel around a special table called an altar. It was covered in soft fabric.
Brother and Sister Silva were there for Alonso’s mom and dad. Abuela was there for his sister who died before Alonso was born.
Closing his eyes, Alonso imagined his family all together.
I can’t wait to see them again, Alonso thought. I’m so grateful families can be together forever!
See Come, Follow Me for Easter.

David would not budge. “I don’t want this church. I want my church.”
“It will be OK, I promise,” Mom said.
David did not want to go. But he did not want to stay in the car, either. So he climbed out and took Mom’s hand.
Dad held open the big glass door as David and Mom walked in. David saw a second door. He put his nose to the glass and his hands next to his eyes so that he could peek in. Then he said, “My church has two doors, just like this one.”
“Yes, it does,” Mom said.
A tall man in a blue suit walked up to them. He shook Dad’s hand and said, “I’m Bishop Morris.”
“We’re the Bennetts. My name is Greg. This is my wife, Sharon, and this is our son, David,” Dad said.
The bishop shook David’s hand.
“My church has a bishop,” David said.
“He’s a little homesick for our old ward,” Mom explained.
“Welcome, David,” the bishop said.
David walked over to the chapel doors with his parents. A boy gave him a program. Then the family sat on a side bench. David picked up a hymnbook. “My church has benches with book holders.”
“Yes, it does,” Dad said.
David listened to the song and prayer. He watched the podium go up and down. He saw the priests stand up to prepare the sacrament. When the deacons passed the sacrament, he took one piece of bread. Later, the water came, and he remembered to return the sacrament cup.
“My church has the sacrament. And I know that’s the time to think about Jesus,” he whispered.
“Yes, it is,” Mom whispered.
While the speaker told a story, David drew pictures about it on his program. Soon it was time for Primary.
A tall lady with a nice smile walked up to the Bennetts. “I’m Sister Lee. Can I help your son find his Primary class?”
“My church has a CTR class,” David said.
“We have one, too,” Sister Lee replied. “I can take you there.”
David kissed his mom and went with Sister Lee. They walked by a drinking fountain. Sister Lee pointed to a door with a word on it. “That’s the boys’ restroom, in case you need it,” she said and winked at him.
“My church has restrooms,” he said, winking back.
He went to class and listened to a lesson about faith. They colored a picture of Nephi building a ship. Then the class went to Sharing Time. They stopped for a drink on the way.
“What song do you want to sing?” the music leader asked. David sat up tall and raised his hand. The music leader pointed to him.
“My church has ‘Book of Mormon Stories,’” he said.
“Would you like to sing it?” she asked.
He nodded. Everybody sang, including David.
After closing exercises, his parents came for him. They walked down the hall, and David pointed to a picture of President Gordon B. Hinckley. “My church has a picture of the prophet right there.”
“No, it didn’t,” Dad said.
“Yes, it does,” David said. “This is my church now.”

Kayla Walker followed in her father Kay’s footsteps as he approached the river. Their friend, Tim McCormick, also moved out onto the ice. But even though she was excited to make the crossing, she was a little scared. Their guide, Jerry McLeod, had already warned them both that if they felt the ice crack beneath their feet to spread out their arms to catch themselves from falling in completely. Kayla said, “He told us to try to stay above the ice. If you fall below, the current will carry you under the ice, and they wouldn’t be able to get you. That was sort of scary.”
Kayla stepped out on the ice. Exactly 150 years ago that month, the first pioneers to leave Nauvoo crossed on the ice of the Mississippi to the other side, leaving behind their beloved and beautiful city with the white temple shining on the hill. Kayla was reenacting that night with her father and a friend. (Any unauthorized activity on the river ice is prohibited.)
“I was wearing three pairs of pants, a turtleneck, and a sweater. Then I had on a big ski coat, a hat, a scarf, and gloves. I had on two pairs of boot socks and hiking boots, and I was still cold. It was, like, minus-20 degrees. That’s why the ice was so thick. It was frozen 18 inches down. I could see cracks in it, but all you could see was more ice because it was so thick.
“It was dark. It was slippery, but we kept a steady pace. There was snow on top of the ice, so we did have some traction. We hit some slick spots where it was hard for me to keep up. I just didn’t want to stop. I wanted to get across. It took us 18 1/2 minutes.
“Brother McLeod’s wife met us on the other side in her van and drove us back home. I was very glad to get in that van with the heater on high and hot chocolate waiting. It was neat to think about my ancestors doing the same thing. Only they did it with long dresses and their children and some people who were sick. They did that, with no questions asked, because they believed in the Church. What a strong testimony they had. I think I would have gone hesitantly. I would have been asking, Why can’t I just wait? Just doing what they did so long ago was a big testimony builder.”
Kayla, 17, is a member of the Nauvoo Ward in Nauvoo, Illinois. She and the other youth in the ward have heard the stories about the pioneers who built their town at least a thousand times each. They all know that Nauvoo means the City Beautiful. And they know every street, every house, practically every flower and blade of grass in the city that they are helping to make beautiful once again. After all, many of their service projects and a lot of their summer jobs involve planting those flowers and mowing those blades of grass.
The city of Nauvoo today still occupies a gentle bend in the Mississippi River. It is a small town with only slightly more than 1,000 residents. In its day, 150 years ago, Nauvoo was a booming city of 10,000 residents. Now the streets of the old part of town on the flats are mostly filled with visitors. Pioneer homes, made of the local red brick, are slowly being rebuilt and repaired. When the youth are asked to come help decorate the Kimball home for Christmas, they immediately know it isn’t the home of one of the local ward members. It’s the home of Heber C. Kimball, an early leader in the Church.
Although there are no ghosts, it’s easy to feel the presence of those early settlers and how happy they were living gathered together, worshipping together, and just being where the Prophet Joseph was so they could see him and hear him often.
The Nauvoo teens know well the feeling of being in the presence of a prophet. They have had the last two presidents of the Church visit Nauvoo. Dustin Powell, 17, said about President Hinckley, “When the prophet came to speak, I was really paying attention to him. Everyone was more attentive. Everything was quiet so everyone could listen to him. I thought it was amazing.”
Trampas Powell, 16, added, “You just felt good to be where he was.”

I am old enough that when I went on a mission all the missionaries were set apart by general authorities. A newly ordained apostle who had just been called to the Quorum of the Twelve in October Conference of that year put his hands on my head and said among other things, "There will be clouds-but the sun will come out." When I am faced with another patch of dark clouds on the horizon I am always grateful for that personal blessing and reminder given by Elder Gordon B Hinckley. The sun will come out. There will certainly be times when things look dark, but that is an opportunity to build your faith. Without a little bit of darkness there is no opportunity to build faith. Remember, some uncertainty is part of the plan.

“Can you tell me what talents Taylor has that I could share with the class?” my eight-year-old’s Primary teacher asked me. She had telephoned because Taylor’s class would be talking about talents they had received from Heavenly Father.
My mind went blank. I thought back over the past eight years, trying to come up with an answer. At four days old Taylor had suffered a stroke that left him with profound brain damage and an uncontrollable seizure disorder. He is unable to see, speak, or communicate. He has never progressed past a six-month-old child’s level of mental development. He spends most of his days in a wheelchair as we care for him and try to keep him comfortable.
We cheered when he learned to giggle or drink from a special cup, and we celebrated when he could stand and take a few steps. But while we cheered and celebrated on the outside, on the inside we wept with the realization that these small achievements were probably as significant as any Taylor would attain. Somehow I didn’t think this was what his Primary teacher wanted to hear.
I cleared my throat and uncomfortably answered, “Taylor really doesn’t have any talents that I can think of.”
This kind sister then forever altered my relationship with my son by her response.
“As I thought about this lesson, I realized that every child of God has a talent,” she said. “I would suggest that Taylor’s talent is that he teaches others to serve. If it is OK with you, I would like to talk to our class about how I have noticed Taylor’s talent here at church. I have seen the other Primary children learn to push his wheelchair, open doors for him, and overcome their fear to wipe his chin with a handkerchief when needed. I think that is a great talent by which he blesses our lives.”
I murmured in agreement, and we quietly said good-bye. I wonder if that Primary teacher knew what a profound impact that conversation would have on my life. Taylor remained the same. He still requires a great deal of care. Hospitals, doctors, and therapists still take up a large part of my life. But my perspective changed, and I began to notice his talent.
I saw how people around us would alter their behavior as they sought to care for him. I also noticed how he reminds us to slow down, notice his needs, and become more compassionate, observant, and patient.
I do not know God’s purpose in having Taylor face such daunting challenges, but I believe that his Primary teacher gave me a small glimpse of it. He is here to share his talent with us. He is here to give us the opportunity to learn how to serve.

When I was very young I read Black Beauty and Beautiful Joe and other animal stories, and these inspired me with a desire to be kind to animals. I read books that stimulated my imagination, adventure stories. I was still very young when the “Last Days of Pompeii” come into my possession and it so stimulated my interest that I was never satisfied until I visited the buried city of Pompeii in 1937 and with my own eyes saw the devastation wrought by old Vesuvius volcano.

When I was going to be baptized and confirmed a member of the Church, I felt very troubled about whether I was choosing the right path. Our branch missionaries in Gyumri, Armenia, realized I had some doubts about the Book of Mormon and joining the Church, so they invited me to go with them while they taught some missionary lessons.
When we got to the first home, Elder Perrin asked Anichka if she had read the assigned chapters. “No,” she said, “I forgot.” So we read 2 Nephi 29–33 together. While reading chapter 29, we studied the prophecies about the Book of Mormon and the Gentiles rejecting it in the latter days by saying, “A Bible! A Bible! We have got a Bible, and there cannot be any more Bible” (v. 3). That chapter left an impression on me throughout the lesson.
Next we went to another home. When we were reading from the Book of Mormon there, the father of the woman we were teaching asked, “What is that book?”
I explained that it was the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. He became angry and said, “We already have the Bible, and there can’t be another Bible.”
I remembered the chapter we had read just 10 minutes earlier with Anichka.
Elder Perrin spoke up: “You have a Bible, and it is from God’s ancient covenant people.” He continued, “God created all people, and He reveals His words to His children, which means all people on this earth. Even though you have a Bible, don’t you suppose that God would give His word to others?” He continued this way, explaining the origin of the Book of Mormon.
I was amazed at what had just happened. It seemed there could be no greater testimony for resolving my concerns about the Book of Mormon than seeing its prophecies fulfilled.
Now with sincerity of heart I can say that the Book of Mormon is the truest book. I know that God loves us all and He won’t forget us. Again and again I have realized how exceptional a possession the Book of Mormon is.