Gospel Story Finder

They sent Donath to the Rwandan capital of Kigali where he had an uncle he could stay with. They hoped that he would take some time to think about his decisions. He got a job and settled into the area with his uncle’s family. One Sunday, his uncle asked him if he would like to attend church with him and his family. “I asked him what church and he said, ‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’” He told his uncle he had never heard of this church but would like to attend.
He noticed how friendly the Church members were in the Kigali 3rd Branch. He wasn’t used to that type of church experience. “The opening hymn was number 136, I still remember the number, ‘I Know that My Redeemer Lives.’ It had a tremendous impact on me, I really didn’t hear or understand much else at the meeting. I had to find someone who could tell me what that song meant.”
He began meeting with the missionaries and having discussions with his uncle and began to recognize the truth of the gospel. He had moved back with his family, and going to church was very difficult because they lived nearly 10 hours away from the Kigali Branch. He was able to attend church a couple of times per month and made the decision to be baptized. He was baptized in the Kigali 3rd Branch, Kigali District in 2018.

My father had an idea that his boys ought to learn to work, in the summer as well as in the winter, and so he bought a five-acre farm which eventually grew to include more than thirty acres. We lived there in the summer and returned to the city when school started.

We had a large orchard, and the trees had to be pruned each spring. Father took us to pruning demonstrations put on by experts from the agriculture college. We learned a great truth—that you could pretty well determine the kind of fruit you would pick in September by the way you pruned in February. The idea was to space the branches so that the fruit would be exposed to sunlight and air. Further, we learned that new, young wood produces the best fruit. That has had many applications in life.

In a meeting, I once told of a dentist in my ward who each year visited the Philippine Islands to work his skills without compensation to provide corrective dentistry for children. Smiles were restored, spirits lifted, and futures enhanced. I did not know the daughter of this dentist was in the congregation to which I was speaking. At the conclusion of my remarks, she came forward and, with a broad smile of proper pride, said, “You have been speaking of my father. How I love him and what he is doing for children!”

Our little blue car rolled down the country road, carrying us farther and farther away from the home we had grown to love so much during the past five years. Mom was driving the car, which contained my two younger sisters and me, and Dad was ahead in a borrowed truck that was loaded high with beds and tables; our old upright piano; and boxes of dishes, dresses, and collected memories. Leaving our little town (population 880) for the big city of 26,000, was traumatic. I was 12 years old, and I knew that this strange new place I was moving to could never replace the fresh country air and close friendships I was leaving behind. I was sure the best part of life was over, and I tried to resign myself to my fate.
After we were settled in our new little home, I spent most of the hot summer days lying on my bed listening to records, reading, and writing letters to my friends. Yet, as August came to an end, I began to get more excited about attending this big school that had almost as many people as the whole town I left.
With a new dress and a nervous smile, I entered the building that September and went to my first period class. I took a seat near the front of the room and was delighted when the girl in front of me turned around and introduced herself.
As the days continued, I found that the students here were really not so different from my other friends. They also liked the music I liked and football games. They also weren’t too excited about math tests, cold weather, or the rival school. I began to feel a part of things and even quit plotting to return to my old school for my last year of school. I played the clarinet in the school band and quickly found that being in that organization offered me the security of belonging to a group. I didn’t know then that there was an even greater group that was soon to enter my life.
Although I was a member of the Church, I had usually attended a Protestant church located just behind my house where I used to live. There was at that time no branch there and our family seldom traveled the distance to the nearest ward. When we moved, however, we began attending Sunday School at the LDS church. It was large, and the people seemed quite friendly—I couldn’t believe how welcome they made me feel! I became good friends with a girl named Teresa and one day she invited me to come to Mutual. I had no idea what that was, even after she explained it to me. What a surprise to find that both boys and girls attended and that we had interesting classes and fun activities! I became involved in Church activities and hardly ever missed Mutual. Mutual was the place where I felt the greatest warmth and acceptance. I didn’t have a testimony of the Church at that time, and the reason I attended was because of the love and friendship extended to me by my friends and leaders. I could feel a warmth there that influenced my life in a very positive manner.
Today when I hear the names of inactive boys or girls, I try to remember that each of them is a potential active member. I am grateful to Teresa, a wonderful friend who kept inviting me to Mutual until I came, and for those open-hearted people in my ward who loved me into activity. I am grateful they did not say, “there is another inactive girl. I wonder what her problem is?” I’m glad that instead, they thought, “I wonder what her strengths are? We need her.”
Mutual gave me so much—firesides, girls’ camp, slumber parties, eternal friends. And perhaps most important, it gave me the beginnings of a testimony of the gospel and the understanding of what a tremendous influence Mutual can be in the lives of young men and women. For many years I was one of the many inactive little girls throughout the Church; how grateful I am that I wasn’t allowed to remain one forever! I wonder how many inactive members are waiting for us to invite them back into the Church? President Harold B. Lee once said, “What you have to give just may be enough.” From personal experience I know that sometimes that doesn’t have to be very much at all.

My love for our Heavenly Father began when we lived on the ranch at Kolob. I remember kneeling at Mama’s knee as she helped me with my prayers. I felt warm and secure, knowing that even in the dark Heavenly Father watched over me. This good feeling helped me to not be afraid of the shadows that moved outside the tent and to understand the noises of the night. Pine needles falling on our canvas roof had the same lightness as the scampering of squirrel feet. Even the occasional thump of a falling cone sounded friendly as it rolled off the tent to the ground.
With a goodnight kiss, Mama would leave me snug in my bed and go back into the one-room ranch house. There my sisters would be washing up the milk buckets, and Papa would be reading under the yellow lamplight.
Kolob was a land of enchantment, with meadows where we played hide-and-seek and hills that wanted to be climbed. Sometimes Mama packed a lunch and hiked with us. When she felt we knew our way, she let my sisters and me hike down the sawmill canyon alone. This was high adventure.
A blue jay went ahead, flying from one scrub oak bush to another, cocking its saucy head to chatter at us. A woodchuck, watching with curiosity, darted into its hole as we came near. Bluebells, purple daisies, and fireballs bloomed in profusion. Every turn of the trail brought new delights. We became engrossed gathering fancy-shaped rocks and wild flowers.
Time slipped away. The sun was settling into the grove to the west as we trudged through sand and sage on the last stretch home.
With our arms full of treasures, we raced to the house to show Mama. The tantalizing smell of hot cornbread greeted us, for it was suppertime. But the room was strangely empty. Mama was not there. I shot out the back door. Running to the big tent where our bunk beds were, I lifted the flap. The setting sun, filtering through canvas, filled the tent with a golden glow. There, kneeling beside her bed, was Mama. In astonished reverence, I waited.
“What were you doing?” I asked timidly as she arose.
Tenderly she kissed my cheek. “I was asking Heavenly Father to bring my little girls safely home.”
“I didn’t know you could ask Him for things in the daytime,” I marveled. I had supposed that aside from our regular family prayers, we prayed only before tumbling into our bunks.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Mama held me close and said, “You see, Patsy, we are all our Heavenly Father’s children. Because He loves us, He will always listen to us.”
There in the mellow sunset glow, a new understanding came to me. Father in heaven really meant our Father. It was not just a name. I was really and truly His little girl! And I could talk to Him anytime.
My heart was jubilant, and so was the breeze. I heard it singing in the pine trees.

I finally let the two young men into my home in Padova, Italy, as a reward for their perseverance. They had continued to come back despite the excuses I made up when I found out they were Latter-day Saint missionaries. Finally, I found myself in my sitting room with them discussing happiness—much to my annoyance.
Although I enjoyed the conversation, hearing those two young men say that we could be happy on earth went against my beliefs. I felt that on this earth, we knew only sorrow—and that only after death, when we lived with God, could we experience happiness.
I should have considered myself lucky at the time, with a husband who loved me very much, a three-year-old daughter, and a new home. But the trials I had gone through in life had taught me otherwise. I grew up without a father and didn’t get along well with my mother. Six years earlier, I had lost a baby who lived only three days—a death I could not understand.
Thus I was unhappy and indifferent. When the missionaries left, they made another appointment and left a copy of the Book of Mormon with several marked verses they asked me to read. I read the verses over the next few days but didn’t understand them.
The missionaries returned every week, first coming by themselves and then, after asking my permission, bringing a sister from the Church. I agreed to accompany her to Church services the coming Sunday. When I entered the church, I felt as though I had always belonged there.
Several people greeted me pleasantly and shook my hand warmly. I noticed that everyone seemed calm, and I immediately felt a sense of peace within myself. It didn’t seem as though it was the first time I had entered the church—and this feeling frightened me. During the following week I felt irritable and had difficulty sleeping.
When the missionaries returned, I asked why, instead of experiencing the happiness and peace I had been promised, I had felt restless and couldn’t sleep. Instead of answering my question, they challenged me to be baptized. I laughed openly, telling they that they could continue to visit me, but that I would never join their church.
Later, however, after telling my husband about the experience and even laughing about it again, I began thinking of everything that had happened. Suddenly, as if something had released inside of me, I felt that I had to be baptized.
My husband tried to dissuade me, treating my decision first as a joke and then making it the cause of a quarrel. He even told me that I might lose my job, since everyone at work belonged to the Catholic Church. But the days went by, and I continued to insist until he finally gave his permission.
After I received the remaining missionary lessons, the day of my baptism finally arrived: 26 October 1986—two months after the missionaries arrived at my house. I was trembling with excitement and scared for the future. My husband agreed to attend the service with my daughter.
As soon as I entered the water, all my fears vanished, and I felt free. I will never forget the happiness I felt in that moment. Immersed in the water, I knew that my relatives and my other little daughter beyond the veil were happy and that they rejoiced in the choice I had made.
Four years have gone by since that day, and I have never before experienced such peace and happiness as I have known since joining the Church. I have become a better wife and mother and am now serving as president of my branch Relief Society. My daughter regularly attends Primary and is preparing for baptism. I also kept my job without any problem.
When trials overcome me that I feel are too heavy to bear, I have learned to confide in my Savior, Jesus Christ. I went to the temple for my endowment, and my suffering for my daughter’s death is almost gone because now I understand that I haven’t lost her forever.
I will never tire of thanking the two servants of the Lord who found me and brought me such precious gifts: the Book of Mormon, my membership in the Church, and true happiness.

When I was little it used to confuse me. My Primary teachers gave lessons on the Word of Wisdom, and I was taught at church and even in school that smoking was wrong. On the other hand, my dad smoked. I didn’t understand why he would do something he knew was wrong. I knew it made my mom sad, too. I also heard lots of lessons about temple blessings and being sealed together as a family in the temple. I knew that as long as my dad smoked, this could never happen for our family.
Now, don’t misunderstand. I really love my dad; he’s a good man. He’s a good father, and he went to church with us most of the time. But his attitude was negative, and he smoked. He just couldn’t seem to let the habit go.
It was easy not to think about it when I was at school or with my friends. But when the Word of Wisdom lessons were being taught, I felt sad. I baby-sat for couples who went to the temple. And all the time I wondered if it would ever happen for us.
As I was sitting in church one day, I heard someone quote a scripture that said if you have a righteous desire and it is God’s will, then he’ll grant that righteous desire to you. I rushed home after church and looked up the scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants.
“And now, verily, verily, I say unto thee, put your trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good … and this is my Spirit.
“Verily, verily I say unto you, I will impart unto you of my Spirit, which shall enlighten your mind, which shall fill your soul with joy;
“And then shall ye know, or by this shall you know, all things whatsoever you desire of me, which are pertaining unto things of righteousness, in faith believing in me that you shall receive.
“And then, behold, according to your desires, yea, even according to your faith shall it be done unto you” (D&C 11:12–14, 17). That scripture gave me great hope.
A few years passed, and nothing changed. Still I prayed and hoped that our family could someday be sealed together. Then one fall day my dad got sick—really sick. He caught the flu and a cold together, and it put him in bed for a week. He got so sick that every time he tried to light a cigarette, his lungs seemed to swell shut and he couldn’t breathe. It got so bad that it really scared him. He threw away his cigarettes and promised himself he’d never smoke again. And he didn’t.
After the smoking stopped, we noticed that his attitude began to change. He wasn’t as negative anymore. And he smelled tons better! Several months later I asked him why he quit, and he said he just thought it was time he got his act together.
And then one day last spring we did it! My mom and dad and I went to the temple to be sealed together forever. It was incredible. We were all dressed in white, and I knelt at the altar with my parents and looked in the mirrors that reflected an eternal family—my eternal family.
Things have really changed for our family. It took an awfully long time, it seems to me, but they did change. Just like the scripture said—the righteous desires of the heart, and faith, accompanied by God’s will, can move mountains—even smoking mountains.

While we were expecting our ninth child, an examination revealed that I had cancer. The doctors could not determine the source or extent without endangering the baby, and she wasn’t old enough to survive birth. But they did know the cancer was spreading. So we were asked to decide whether the doctors should operate despite the risk, or if they should wait until the baby had developed more fully.
To me there seemed to be no answer. I wanted to live and to rear our eight children. But I also felt protective of the child I was carrying. We struggled for several weeks, giving the baby more time to mature, prayerfully seeking to know the will of the Lord. Our answer came when, after much prayer and fasting, Dan said to me, “Barbara, it will be all right. I have scheduled surgery.”
Because of priesthood power, he could do more than make that difficult decision. He called our home teacher, a neighbor who had had his own struggle with cancer, and my brother. In the name of Jesus Christ, my husband, assisted by those men, blessed me and our baby that what was done would be best for both of us.
Dan again wrote me a letter the night before surgery: “These past days have been filled with more anxiety and soul searching for me than any time in my life. … As we have passed through swells of faith and depths of fear, I have experiences a purging I didn’t know I needed. The priesthood blessings you have received are from the Lord. Tonight as we sat in your hospital room, I was aware of your struggle between fear and faith. I experienced it myself for many hours after I returned home. Just now I have received, with burning assurance, the Lord’s seal upon the blessings you have received. … [The doctors], as instruments in the hands of our Father in Heaven, will do what is needed to perform His work.”
The surgery was successful. Our healthy daughter, now fifteen years old, was born seven weeks later.

It was a routine she knew well. She would get up a little before 6:00 A.M. to catch the 6:30 bus, which would take her to school. School would last nine hours. But when the bell rang, dismissing classes, it would seem like her day was just beginning. She would leave class and head to the library for three more hours studying the day’s lessons. At 8:00 P.M., she would hop on the bus and ride 40 minutes to her home, where she would shower, eat, catch up on the world’s latest happenings from the newspaper, read from the scriptures, and then go to sleep. The next day Liu Kwan Ling, who also uses the English name Angel, would do it all over again.
Free time wasn’t one of the luxuries in Angel’s life then, and it certainly isn’t now.
Even Angel admits it was a grueling schedule. She will also admit it was worth it. Last year Angel graduated from the Taipei First Girls’ High School and is now in her first year at National Taiwan University, rated the top college in this island country near mainland China.
Having survived the rigors of high school, Angel is probably busier now that she has graduated. Her college schedule, compared to her daily high school routine, really isn’t that much different. In fact, it’s about identical. It’s just that the college courses she is taking are a little more demanding. Yet Angel knows how she has been able to juggle all the things in her busy schedule.
“I can increase my spirituality by reading the scriptures and praying,” she says. “I think without doing that and by not going to my Sunday meetings I would become easily discouraged and depressed about school and life. But if I go to sacrament meeting and listen to the talks, it seems that my life is always more positive and happy. I think the most important thing in my life is my spirituality.”
It was a tough two years on Angel as she both prepared for college and tried to remain active in the Peitou Ward of the Taipei East Stake, where she is her ward’s sacrament meeting pianist.
The bulk of her time was spent studying English, math, Chinese, physics, chemistry, biology, physical education, music, and housekeeping (cooking and sewing).
And that is what is so amazing about Angel. She graduated near the top of her high school class, yet she doubts she could have done it had she not had the gospel’s guiding influence in her life. “The Church was especially helpful to me during my senior year of high school. I noticed a lot of my schoolmates were easily depressed because of school,” she says. “But I knew if I did my best, Heavenly Father would help me. Usually, my grades were better than I expected.”
Today, college life keeps Angel busy as she studies to become a doctor. As Angel returns home from a full day, she still takes time to read from the scriptures. When she closes her scriptures, it’s 10:30 P.M. Angel’s day is over—finally. She can close her eyes knowing she is doing well in school, and, more importantly, she is finding time to include the gospel in her busy life. In less than eight hours, her day will begin all over again. Angel will undoubtedly enjoy a very sound sleep.

Kenny was going shopping. He had saved his allowance to buy himself a treat. Just down the street from his house was a little grocery store. Mr. and Mrs. Arnett, who ran the store, had big jars of candy on the counter. They used a little scoop to put the candy into a red and white bag. Then they weighed it on a big old-fashioned scale and told you how much to pay.
Kenny had saved enough money to get a whole pound of candy. That was a lot, but he knew that if he was careful, it would last a long time. He had already decided what kind he was getting. It was his very favorite—peas and carrots. Not real peas and carrots. Candy peas and carrots that looked just like real peas and tiny carrots.
Because the store wasn’t very far from his house, Kenny’s mom let him go by himself. He walked, skipped, and ran down the street. As he passed some of his friends’ houses along the way, he thought, What if people are outside when I come back with my candy? They will see the bag from Arnett’s store and want some.
Kenny had worked hard to save his money for a whole pound of peas and carrots, and he wanted it to last a long time. If he shared it with others, it wouldn’t last very long. So he thought up a plan and turned around and ran all the way home.
“Did you get your treat already? Mom asked.
“No, I forgot something.”
“OK, be careful,” Mom said.
Kenny hurried back to the store, this time carrying something besides money in his pockets.
When Mr. Arnett handed Kenny the red and white bag, it felt heavy. A pound of peas and carrots was a lot of candy! He was going to make it last a long, long time. And his plan was going to help.
As he left the store, Kenny pulled some headphones from his pocket and put them over his ears. He plugged them into a little radio in his other pocket. He turned the radio on and made sure the sound was pretty loud. As he started home, he watched carefully for any friends he might see.
Ashley and Isaac were the first friends he saw. They were just coming out of their house to play. Kenny looked straight ahead and pretended not to see them. He could see out of the corner of his eye that they were saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear them. They were pointing at his bag. He knew that they were going to ask for some of his candy, so he walked a little faster and passed them by.
My plan worked! Kenny thought.
Mrs. Moulton was working in her yard when he passed. He gave her a smile and a little wave. She was pointing at his bag and saying something.
She wants some candy, too! Kenny thought. He looked away and tried to enjoy the loud music.
He looked up the street and saw Hannah coming down the sidewalk on her skateboard. She hopped off and started talking to Kenny, pointing at his bag. He just smiled, bobbed his head in time with the music, and went around her. Hannah was asking him for candy, and he just didn’t want to share.
One more house to pass, and he would be home. He thought the Pierce brothers were visiting their grandma, but he was wrong. There they were, and they had already seen him. They also jumped up and down and pointed at his bag. Kenny pretended he didn’t see them and hurried to his house.
Now all he had to do was avoid his sister and brother and get to his room, where he would be safe at last! He rushed in and headed for the stairs. There was Janelle looking right at his bag and asking for some of the candy that he still hadn’t even tasted. He ran past her and up to his room. Dustin was on his way out to play ball. He reached out to touch the red-and-white bag. Kenny pulled it away and told him to leave it alone. Then he noticed something. The bag wasn’t as heavy as it had been when Mr. Arnett had given it to him. He looked inside.
“Oh no!” Kenny yelled. Instead of a whole pound of peas and carrots in his bag, there were only one pea and two carrots in the bottom. And right next to them was a great big hole! All of his candy was gone!
Kenny was sad. The candy must have fallen out a little at a time as he walked home. He hadn’t heard it landing on the sidewalk because he had had the radio turned up so loud.
Then he thought of something else. Everyone he’d passed had pointed at his bag. All those friends weren’t asking for candy—they were trying to tell him that his candy was falling out of the bag! Kenny didn’t feel like being selfish anymore. He wished he had some candy left to share.
He made another plan.
The next time Kenny saved up enough allowance for some candy, he didn’t take his radio to the store. Instead of pretending to not see his friends, he looked for them. He stopped at all their houses on the way home to share his peas and carrots. And the ones that were left tasted extra delicious.

My younger sister Judith was an author, composer, and educator. She loved many things, including the gospel, music, and archaeology. Judith’s birthday was a few days before mine. Every year I would give her a crisp one-dollar bill as my birthday present to her. Three days later she would give me 50 cents as her birthday present to me.
Judith passed away a few years ago. I miss her and think of her often.

Some years ago we stopped at a small restaurant. The young woman who served our meal was courteous but very sober. When she handed me the check, I said, “Can you tell us which road we take to get out of town?” Suddenly she burst into tears and said, “Mister, I don’t even know how I got into this town.”
I have wished more than once that we could have gone to a table in the corner and talked. Perhaps we could have helped her.

Minjun and Dad hurried into the Church building, the cold wind blowing behind them. It was chilly inside the building too. Minjun hoped it would get warmer as more people gathered.
Minjun’s friend Jungmin was getting baptized today. Jungmin had met with the sister missionaries and thought about getting baptized for a long time. The whole ward had fasted and prayed for him. Finally he decided to be baptized. And today was the day!
The font was still filling up with water when Minjun and Dad walked into the room. They sat down next to Minjun’s friend James. Soon Jungmin walked in, dressed in white baptismal clothing.
“He looks a little nervous,” James said.
Minjun nodded. He was glad he could be here for his friend.
Soon the font was filled. It was time for the baptism to begin! But instead of starting, the missionaries were talking with some of the other members, and they looked worried. Dad went to see what was wrong.
“What’s the matter?” Minjun asked Dad.
“The water heater in the building is broken, so the water in the font is very cold,” Dad said.
Minjun looked at the font. At his baptism, there had been warm weather, warm water, and even his dad’s warm hug when he came out of the water. He couldn’t imagine being baptized in cold water on such a cold winter day.
Minjun watched as Jungmin courageously stepped into the water with Elder Keck, who was going to baptize him.
“It’s too cold!” Jungmin said. “I can’t stay in here any longer.” He climbed back out of the font, shivering. Minjun felt sad for him.
A few minutes later, Jungmin tried to get in the water again. This time he only made a few steps before hurrying out. He tried two more times. The water was freezing! “Can we stop?” Jungmin finally asked. He looked like he was about to cry.
Minjun said a silent prayer asking how he could help.
“What should we do?” someone said.
“Should we postpone the baptism?” someone else asked. Everyone wanted to help Jungmin, but they didn’t know how.
Then Minjun had an idea. He gave James a nudge. “Let’s go, James!”
Minjun and James went to the kitchen. They found a large cup and bowl and filled them with hot water from the water dispenser. They carefully carried them back to the chapel and dumped the hot water in the font. “Maybe this will help warm the water up!” Minjun said.
Everyone was surprised. “Why didn’t we think of that?” someone asked.
Together, everyone started adding warm water from the kitchen. Some people heated water on the stove. Others carefully carried the pots across the hall and poured the hot water into the font. Even the other Primary children helped, one cup at a time.
Finally the water was warm enough. Jungmin and Elder Keck stepped all the way into the font. Minjun felt warm in his heart as he listened to Elder Keck say the words of the baptism prayer. When Jungmin came out of the water, he was smiling. Everyone was happy.
After Jungmin changed into his dry clothes, Minjun gave him a big hug. Minjun knew that whenever he prayed with courage, Heavenly Father would help him know what to do. This baptism was one Minjun would never forget!

After Brigham Young had been called as President of the Church, John Taylor received a call to go to New York to organize and publish a newspaper. This newspaper, the Mormon, was to inform people about the Church.
Brigham Young: Brother Taylor, we need you to go to New York and publish a newspaper to help people understand us.
Elder Taylor, his oldest son, George, and his nephew, Angus Cannon, set up the Mormon office between two New York City newspapers, the Herald and the Tribune.
John: Here we are, in the middle of two great newspapers.
When Elder John Taylor returned to Europe on a mission, he published the Book of Mormon and other Church writings in both French and German.
John: Now more people can read the gospel in their own language.
Because of his gift and talent of communication and his diligence, he was able to help many people understand the truth of the Church.

My husband and I had been married about two years when I read an article recommending that married couples discuss truthfully and candidly the habits or mannerisms they find annoying in each other. The theory was that if partners knew of such annoyances, they could correct them before resentful feelings developed.
It made sense to me. I talked with my husband about the idea. After some hesitation, he agreed to give it a try.
As I recall, we were to name five things we found annoying. I started off. After more than 50 years, I remember only my first complaint: grapefruit. I told him I didn’t like the way he ate grapefruit. Instead of cutting it open and eating it with a spoon, he peeled it and ate it a section at a time. Nobody else I knew ate grapefruit like that. Could I be expected to spend a lifetime, and even eternity, watching my husband eat grapefruit like that? Although I have forgotten them, I’m sure my other complaints were of similar importance.
Then it was his turn. It has been more than half a century, but I still carry a mental image of my husband’s thoughtful, puzzled expression. He looked at me and said, “I can’t think of anything I don’t like about you.”
Gasp. I quickly turned my back, not knowing how to explain my tears. I had found fault with him over such trivial things, while he hadn’t even noticed any of my peculiar and no doubt annoying habits.
I wish I could say this experience completely cured me of faultfinding. It didn’t. But it did teach me early in my marriage that we need to keep in perspective, and usually ignore, the small differences in our spouse’s habits and personalities. Whenever I hear of married couples being incompatible, I always wonder if they are suffering from what I now call the grapefruit syndrome.

Elder Soares: I remember what a challenge it was during those first five years after marriage when we were trying to have children.
Sister Soares: Those years were very difficult. I couldn’t get pregnant.
Elder Soares: We had many health challenges after so much effort. That’s when we received a priesthood blessing. Later you had a surgery, and a few months later . . .
Sister Soares: Our dream came true.
Elder Soares: You got pregnant.
Sister Soares: We trusted so much in the Lord, and we recognized tangible blessings. It was not easy for the two of us, who were so inexperienced, but it has also been marvelous.
Elder Soares: While we were dealing with life, the Lord provided for our spiritual needs, giving us the peace that we needed, the comfort and ability to work, to continue on, to finish our education. It was a significant time in our lives that completely changed the direction of everything we thought we’d be doing.

Cragg Rogers, 21, from San Diego, California, was first introduced to the Church when his parents gave him a survival trip for a graduation present. There were 37 Mormons and three non-Mormons enrolled in the program. They spent 28 days in a southern Utah desert.
“It was really a spiritual trip,” Cragg recalled. “From the first I noticed there was something different about the Mormons. Whenever we came up against hard circumstances, they would pray about it. We were out in the middle of the desert, with almost no food or water, and they held church on Sundays. They even had me give a talk, if you can believe it. In the general misery of a survival trip, everyone helped each other. There were no airs. That survival trip turned my whole life around,” Cragg said.
It was two years after that first introduction to the Church before Cragg finally joined. The spirit of the LDS friends Cragg had made on the survival trip left a deep impression.
“The spirit I felt on that trip was on my mind, and I couldn’t get rid of it,” Cragg said, smiling. “I finally decided to get into it and really find out what it was about. The members were more than willing to help.”

Some mothers, some fathers, some children, some families are called upon to bear a heavy burden here in mortality. Such a family was the Borgstrom family in northern Utah. The time was World War II. Fierce battles raged in various parts of the world.

Tragically, the Borgstroms lost four of their five sons who were serving in the armed forces. Within a six-month period, all four sons gave their lives—each in a different part of the world.

Following the war, the bodies of the four Borgstrom brothers were brought home to Tremonton, and an appropriate service was conducted, filling the Garland Utah Tabernacle. General Mark Clark attended the service. He later spoke with tenderness these words: “I flew to Garland the morning of June 26. Met with the family, including among others the mother, father, and two remaining sons, … one a lad in his teens. I had never met a more stoic family group.

“As the four flag-draped coffins were lined up in front of us in the church, and as I sat by these brave parents, I was deeply impressed by their understanding, by their faith, and their pride in these magnificent sons who had made the supreme sacrifice for principles which had been instilled in them by noble parents since childhood.

“During the luncheon period, Mrs. Borgstrom turned to me and said in a low voice, ‘Are you going to take my young one?’ I answered in a whisper that as long as I remained in command of the army on the West Coast, if her boy were called I would do my best to have him assigned to duty at home.

“In the middle of this whispered conversation with the mother, the father suddenly leaned forward and said to Mrs. Borgstrom: ‘Mother, I have overheard your conversation with the general about our youngest. We know that if and when his country needs him, he will go.’

“I could hardly contain my emotions. Here were parents with four sons lying dead from wounds received in battle and yet were ready to make the last sacrifice if their country required it.”

It is the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ that touched home and heart that ever-to-be-remembered day.

Missionaries, who were confined to their homes like everyone else, soon received smartphones and access to social media platforms that allowed them to connect with people responding to a Facebook ad published on the Africa South Area Facebook pages titled “Where Can I Turn for Peace?”
Very soon after the ad ran, Elder Gava and his companion were given a stack of names and phone numbers from people who had responded to the advert, indicating that they were interested in meeting with the missionaries and finding out more about the Church. They were asked to contact each person. As they looked through the names and numbers, both missionaries were impressed to call a particular woman. She answered in a very low voice, but after they had introduced themselves, she almost screamed with happiness. “Thank you so much for reaching out to me!” she said. “Thank you for calling at the right time.”
As the conversation progressed, the elders learned that this woman was then lying in a hospital bed having just suffered a stillbirth. “She was saying she was so hurt . . . like there was a deep hole in her heart,” he said. “At the time we called her, she needed someone to be there with her, but, unfortunately, she was alone. That sister became one of our good friends and we started teaching her online.”
Elder Gava says this experience taught him how the Spirit works in our lives and how it can move us to talk to people who need us, at the time they need us. He also learnt another lesson: the importance of the proper use of technology in missionary work. He realised that technology can be used to reach out to our Heavenly Father’s children.
On Elder Gava’s mission he saw these two channels working together: the Holy Ghost was the heavenly channel, bringing a message from heaven to the missionaries; and technology was the earthly channel, bringing that message from the missionaries to their brothers and sisters.

As sister missionaries, we were sharing the gospel with a woman who lived in modest circumstances at the bottom of a large hill near a small city dump on the outskirts of Asunción, Paraguay.
Soledad and her husband, Oscar, lived in one room of a long, narrow house that was actually a series of connected rooms, side by side, with very thin walls. Each room was a tiny residence with one window, one door, one table, and one bed. There were several such buildings in this area, constructed of wood, with a thatched roof and dirt floors. Clay that had been pushed into the crevices kept out some of the cold.
Soledad was the mother of three young children, and she was young herself—and overwhelmed. It was all she could do to take care of her home and the daily demands of her children. But she seemed to welcome our visits and to recognize a need for God in her life.
Soledad expressed her thoughts and feelings freely. She had fallen in love and run away from home with Oscar, even though her parents didn’t approve. Neither she nor her husband had any education or a job, and their future was bleak. She wondered if God had abandoned her and if He was punishing them for the poor choices they had made.
Oscar peddled trinkets door to door in an effort to help his family survive. When he had a successful day, he would buy food and, sometimes, small gifts for the children. But when sales were poor, he would often return home depressed, angry, and drunk.
We felt challenged to help them deal with so many temporal concerns. But we also felt urged by the Spirit to continue loving and teaching them, even though at times their progress was disappointing. After several more visits and after praying sincerely, we finally felt we needed to give them some time to consider what we had taught, study the Book of Mormon, and pray by themselves.
We explained our concerns to Soledad, and she was upset. She felt we were abandoning her family. She also told us they were expecting a fourth child and didn’t know how they would survive. In anger she told us to leave and never return.
Unknown to us, however, the neighbor next door, Juan, had been listening through the wall to what we had been teaching. He was young, curious, and painfully shy. As he had listened, he had had many questions about the plan of salvation, the Book of Mormon, and repentance. He had even been borrowing Soledad’s copy of the Book of Mormon, reading it, and praying regarding all that he had been quietly learning.
Days passed. Juan began to worry when we did not return to teach Soledad and Oscar. Then one night, as a heavy winter storm was brewing, he asked Soledad where we lived and how he could contact us. She said she didn’t know, and he began to cry. He bore his testimony to her of the truthfulness of our message and ran out into the stormy night to look for us as rain poured down, turning the streets into muddy rivers.
Hours later, tired and cold, he continued to search. He began to pray as he made his way through the darkness, promising his Father in Heaven that if He would help him find us, he would be baptized and serve Him all the days of his life. In the meantime, Soledad, impressed by Juan’s testimony, started praying that we would return. Juan came home but continued to pray and read the Book of Mormon for the next two days. Soledad also prayed earnestly and talked with Oscar. Together they began reading the Book of Mormon.
Two days after the storm, as my companion and I knelt in prayer, we felt compelled to return to the tiny little homes at the bottom of the hill. We went immediately, and when we arrived, we were greeted with happy tears and excitement by Soledad, Oscar, their children, and Juan. They told us all that had happened, and from that time on, all of them were eager to learn about the gospel. It wasn’t long before Juan was baptized, and Soledad and Oscar soon followed.
I remember wondering why we were so strongly impressed to keep teaching even when Soledad and Oscar weren’t responding well. I remember wondering why we felt such an urgency to return when we had been chased away in anger. But as I saw the joy that came into Juan’s life and then into Soledad and Oscar’s family, I knew that not only was Juan listening through thin walls but that Heavenly Father was listening to prayers from each of us in turn, prayers that came from the heart.