Gospel Story Finder

After his mother died, Gordon B. Hinckley felt responsible for his younger brother and sisters and helped them in many ways. He worked hard and saved money for his schooling. When it was time for his sister Ramona to graduate, he realized how important it would be to her to have a new dress for that special time. Thinking more about her needs than his own, he used some of his hard-earned money to buy her a beautiful new dress.

Harm or accidents. I laughed again, remembering what I used to call them.
I was probably about three years old when I first became aware of all the people in my ward who prayed for “no harm or accidents to befall us as we go home.” To my three-year-old ears, however, it always sounded like “Harmer accidents.” Since my last name was Harmer, this was great! Public prayers immediately took on a new aspect of interest and importance for me.
In our own family prayers, of course, Dad had always asked that we be protected from Harmer accidents, which we children categorized as car crashes, fires, spankings, or other bad things. Amazing to me was that everyone prayed about Harmer accidents! In Sunday School, Primary, and sacrament meetings, someone always prayed that no Harmer accidents would happen on the way home. I always felt so important after these prayers. Because no one wanted my family to get hurt (I was sure it was because everyone liked us so much), they had a special part of the blessing just for us.
Even people I didn’t know prayed for me! I remember attending a session of general conference once and hearing a General Authority promise protection from Harmer accidents as we traveled home. Well, I just about floated right out of the Tabernacle.
As I look back, I can see that I had a lot of faith in prayers when I was a child. When I heard so many people using my name in the prayer, I was sure Heavenly Father must hear, too. When I prayed, I really talked to my Father in Heaven and asked him for personal care. A prayer was more to me than a religious norm that opened and closed a meeting. Asking for protection from Harmer accidents was more than an expected and often overused closing to a prayer. It came to stand for my faith in prayer and my belief that every prayer was original and sincere.
I was about eight when I saw “harm or accident” written out and for the first time realized my mistake. I can remember having a feeling of great disappointment. People weren’t really praying for me after all. Heavenly Father wasn’t looking out for me in particular. Asking for protection from harm or accidents was just something that sounded appropriate at the end of a prayer. The feeling of disappointment soon faded, however, along with my keen interest in prayer. In fact, the only time I even wondered about prayer anymore was when my mind wandered during one, or when I laughed about Harmer accidents as I had done tonight.

“A few years ago I read an article written by Jack McConnell. … He recounted that during his childhood, every day as the family sat around the dinner table his father would ask each one in turn, ‘And what did you do for someone today?’ The children were determined to do a good turn every day so they could report to their father that they had helped someone. Dr. McConnell calls this exercise his father’s most valuable legacy, for that expectation and those words inspired him and his siblings to help others throughout their lives. As they grew and matured, their motivation for providing service changed to an inner desire to help others.”

I once met a young sailor who was a member of the crew of an atomic submarine based in Scotland. He was the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the crew. The submarine would go on long trips taking many weeks. As this young Church member was assigned to his station on his first cruise, he found that other crewmen had covered the walls in his area with improper pictures of women with very little clothing on. This offended him. He took all the pictures down and destroyed them. He was conscious of the probable reaction of the other men but, nevertheless, had the courage to do what he thought he should. Not one picture was put up again. As a matter of fact, on that first cruise, he began to teach a Sunday School class attended by two or three of the other men. He learned an important lesson—generally speaking, others will show respect for one who has the courage of his or her convictions and isn’t afraid to do what he feels is right.

Besides improving as a swimmer, I’d also made friends with a teammate named Mike Vavernec. Mike had recently joined the Church, and we were preparing to serve missions. Together we made it our personal quest to obtain a spiritual witness of the truthfulness of the gospel. We began a daily reading of the Book of Mormon. It was the first time I’d read the entire book.
Somewhere in the Words of Mormon I felt it first—an overwhelming feeling that seemed to explode in my heart and radiate through each limb. This was the witness I had searched for.
We did not stop there. We had read where Nephi had gone to the mountains to talk with God. So one day Mike and I packed our things and hiked deep into the Olympic Mountain Range simply to pray.
That year we heard the whisperings of the Spirit of the Holy Ghost. We received answers to our prayers. Never at any time in my life have I felt so close to Heavenly Father.
Today I look back on that year with reverence. I lost a swim meet, but I gained so much more. I had been blessed.

Great damage is done in a marriage through criticism, blaming, and fault-finding. One couple who came to see me spent most of our session mercilessly criticizing each other. Finally I asked them if they could think of anything good to say about their partner. They glared at each other for several moments, then the wife shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, what can I say? He hasn’t killed anybody.”
These were both honest, sincere people who had gotten married because they liked a lot of things about each other. But over many years of trying to change each other’s behavior, they had replaced the acknowledgement of those good traits with a constant stream of criticism and disapproval. This had soured their relationship almost beyond repair. Before this couple can regain the sweet, loving relationship that made them want to get married in the first place, they will have to give up their critical nagging, and with it the attempt to force change on their partner.

About a month after first stepping into the Angoulême chapel, I decided to be baptized. I was 18 and didn’t need parental permission. But when I called my family in Australia with the joyous news, I was shocked and disappointed to discover they had a negative attitude about the Church and opposed my desire to be baptized.
This weighed heavily on my heart. Should I go ahead against the wishes of my family, whom I loved dearly? Or should I delay baptism until I returned to Australia, where I faced the possibility of greater opposition?
Matthew 19:29 helped me make the decision: “And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life.” Was I willing to put the Savior first—even before my family? The answer was yes, and on December 16, 1989, I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My remaining time in France was filled with a peaceful joy I had never known before.

Just as God rejoices when we persevere, He is disappointed if we do not recognize that others are trying too. Our dear friend Thoba shared how she learned this lesson from her mother, Julia. Julia and Thoba were among the early black converts in South Africa. After the apartheid regime ended, black and white members of the Church were permitted to attend church together. For many, the equality of interaction between the races was new and challenging. One time, as Julia and Thoba attended church, they felt they were treated less than kindly by some white members. As they left, Thoba complained bitterly to her mother. Julia listened calmly until Thoba had vented her frustration. Then Julia said, “Oh, Thoba, the Church is like a big hospital, and we are all sick in our own way. We come to church to be helped.” Julia’s comment reflects a valuable insight. We must not only be tolerant while others work on their individual illnesses; we must also be kind, patient, supportive, and understanding. As God encourages us to keep on trying, He expects us to also allow others the space to do the same, at their own pace. The Atonement will come into our lives in even greater measure. We will then recognize that regardless of perceived differences, all of us are in need of the same infinite Atonement.

President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), writing about the association said, ”The British Mission Association is active in keeping alive the happy memories of saints and missionaries who have lived in Britain. More than that, it is endeavouring in every way possible to cultivate the spiritual interests of its members.“
To the latter end of President Hinckley’s statement, its first annual winter social recreated a traditional British event—the fish and chip supper. At the door, the members paid 15 American cents and received in exchange one British penny, to be placed on a counter between vinegar bottles and salt shakers in payment for fish and chips, served in a piece of the previous day’s newspaper. That was the easy bit. In order to buy fresh suitable fish, it was necessary to telegraph to Seattle and import it by special delivery, a distance of 800 miles!
Dancing followed and the evening closed with the singing of “God Save the King.”
As one lad from Lancashire left, he opened the kitchen door slightly, took a deep breath and remarked, ”Eh, ba gum, ’twas a good party.“3

Monday, October 11
Dear Grandma and Grandpa, (Oops! I mean Elder and Sister Wall. I keep forgetting!)
How do you like Nigeria? Mom showed me where it is on the map. It’s very far away! But I’m glad you got to go on your mission. You always said you’d serve wherever Heavenly Father wanted you to go. Remember? But I still wish you weren’t so far away.
Love,Vera
Monday, November 1
Dear Vera,
Yes, Nigeria is far away from where you live, but we are so glad we’re here. The people are so warm and loving, and Heavenly Father has blessed us so much.
On Sunday, four children were confirmed. We met in a tiny chapel with a concrete floor, and the Spirit was so strong. It was beautiful!
Love,Elder and Sister Wall
P.S. We love the Primary children so much that we want to give them a special Christmas present. Do you have any ideas?
Monday, November 22
Dear Elder and Sister Wall, (See? I remembered!)
I’ve got a great Christmas present idea! And I’ve even talked to Mom and the Primary president about it. But I’m not going to tell you what it is because I know how much you like surprises. (Remember the surprise birthday party Mom gave you, Grandma? You were so funny!)
I will give you a hint. It starts with the letter P, and we’ll be sending it in a couple of weeks.
Love,Vera
P.S. Can you guess what it is?
Friday, December 3
Dear Vera,
What could it be? Grandpa and I have been thinking about what you might be sending for the Primary children. We can hardly wait to find out!
There are lots of things that start with P in Africa—like pigs, parrots, and potholes! But I don’t think that’s the surprise you’re talking about.
Love,Sister Wall
Monday, December 13
Dear Vera,
Dalu and Merry Christmas! Dalu means “thank you” in Igbo (a language spoken in Nigeria). P stands for “pictures,” doesn’t it?
All the children here in our Primary liked the Christmas pictures you and your friends drew for them at the Primary activity.
We wish you could have seen them! All the children were smiling and laughing and saying how wonderful it was to hear from faraway Primary friends who love Jesus just like they do.
Thanks so much for your Christmas present. It was perfect! (That starts with P too!)
Love,Elder and Sister Wall
P.S. The Nigerian Primary children like to send surprises too!
Friday, December 31
Dear Elder and Sister Wall,
Please tell the Primary children in Nigeria dalu for their pictures! All the kids in my Primary liked them! We especially enjoyed the pictures with the palm trees, fans, and baskets.
Love,Vera
P.S. Even though I still miss you, ever since we sent you the special present for your Primary children, Nigeria doesn’t seem far away at all!

“A fine chance I have to win,” Alan mumbled to Jerry as they each read the poster in the library that announced the pet contest.
“The sign says that the boy or girl who brings the most unusual pet will win swimming tickets for the summer,” Jerry reminded him. “It doesn’t say that the pet has to do any tricks or anything.”
“I know,” Alan grumbled. “But Karen has a talking parakeet, Jimmy has a talking parrot, you’re bringing your talking myna bird, and Susan is sure to bring her singing canary.”
“Why don’t you enter Pokey in the contest?” Jerry asked.
“Pokey?” Alan questioned, surprised that Jerry would even mention such a thing. “Who ever heard of a talking turtle?”
“How about that owl your father found in the woods?” Jerry suggested. “His broken leg is healed now.”
“Who-Who can’t talk or sing,” Alan complained. “That bird can’t do anything!”
“Well, you’d better think of something quick,” Jerry advised as he turned the corner and headed toward his house. “The contest is tomorrow.”
Alan didn’t answer. He just kicked at a rock and walked on home.
All evening Alan tried to think of a pet to enter in the contest. He didn’t have much money for swimming this year, and winning the contest would be a big help.
When Alan went to bed, he still had not thought of a pet for the contest.
Early the next morning Alan had an idea. He quickly jumped out of bed, and before long he was on his way to the pet show carrying a cage that was covered with a cloth. He didn’t want the other children to see his surprise pet until the right time.
Soon Alan arrived at the library where the contest was being held. He sat on the front row and placed the covered cage on the floor beside him.
“May I show my pet first?” he asked Mr. Simpson, the man in charge.
“Everyone wants to be first,” Mr. Simpson laughed. “There are twenty-three entries. We’ll draw numbers from this box. The person getting number one will be first. Number two will be second, and so on.”
Alan drew number twenty-three. He would have to be last!
Susan was first, and she carried her singing canary to the front of the room.
“Tweet-tweet,” sang the canary. “Tweet-tweet-tweet.” The boys and girls all clapped.
Karen took her talking parakeet to the platform.
“Pretty boy,” said the parakeet. “Pretty boy,” he repeated again and again. The children laughed. They liked the parakeet.
Next Jimmy carried his parrot to the front of the room.
“Help! Help!” squawked the parrot, hopping about his cage. “Help, I’m hungry!” The children cheered. “The parrot will be the winner,” someone said.
Jerry was fourth. His myna bird glanced about the room.
“Stop the traffic!” the myna bird shouted like a policeman. “Stop! Stop!” he repeated. Everybody cheered and laughed. They had never seen a police bird.
At last it was Alan’s turn. He carried the cloth-covered cage to the front of the room.
“I wonder what it is,” someone whispered.
Quickly Alan pulled back the cloth. Some boys in the back of the room stood so that they could see better.
“But Who-Who can’t talk,” Jerry whispered out loud. Everyone giggled.
“I know who you are,” Alan said to the owl.
“Who,” said the owl, and a roar of clapping filled the room. Jerry’s eyes grew large and round—almost as big and round as the owl’s eyes.
Alan turned to the owl, “Tell the boys and girls who you are.”
“Who-Who,” said the owl, and everyone cheered and laughed louder than before.
“Alan’s the winner!” shouted the boys.
“Alan and Who-Who!” shouted the girls.
The judges agreed, and a big smile spread across Alan’s face as he accepted the swimming tickets.

During a visit to the afflicted area prior to the distribution of the packets, Elder and Sister Johnston met a little boy named Cosmin. His house had been destroyed and he was living under a tarp.
When the Johnstons returned a while later with food, he and his family were nowhere to be found.
“We desperately wanted to find them,” said Elder Johnston. “We promised them we would return with help. We left the distribution to others and began scouring the faces in the crowd of refugees, hoping to find him and his father and mother.
“Near the end of the day, after most materials were distributed, we found them standing off a distance from everyone else, waiting patiently. They were a contrast to the majority who pushed and shoved their way to the front of the line. We were touched by their humility and gratitude. Little Cosmin soon brought us flowers and said, ‘Thank you.’”

That heritage lies in a somewhat complex story that stretches back about 20 years, to the city of Angoulême, France. There, full-time missionaries were guided to a man named Michel Menardin, who had come from Guadeloupe, an overseas department of France, to perform his military service. Michel accepted the gospel and was baptized and confirmed.
That same year in the same town, missionaries left a pamphlet in a mailbox. It triggered interest from a single mother, Claudine, who was raising a 19-year-old daughter, Delphine. They both gained testimonies and were also baptized and confirmed.
Michel and Claudine met at church, decided they were meant for each other, and married. (They are Coco’s grandparents.) When Michel’s mother, Marthé, came for the wedding, she stayed in Angoulême, became acquainted with the Church, and joined.
Later, Delphine was called on a mission to Seattle, Washington. While she was serving, her parents and grandmother moved back to Guadeloupe. After her mission, Delphine came to visit them, and while in Guadeloupe she met Claude Gamiette, who had recently returned from the Florida Jacksonville Mission. He was serving as a counselor to Delphine’s stepfather in the branch presidency. The two returned missionaries dated and were married a short time later. Claude and Delphine are Coco’s parents. Now, 14 years and five children later, Claude, whose own family goes back years in the Church, is president of the Basse-Terre Guadeloupe District.
So with all of that, Coco is a fourth-generation Latter-day Saint. “I’ve grown up in the Church,” she says. “I’ve heard about it my whole life, gone to Primary and now to Young Women, and heard my parents and their parents and their parents bear their testimonies. I’ve always known the gospel is true. When I read in Mosiah about the promises the believers made when Alma baptized them, that’s what I’ve seen and felt my whole life.”

“The time is 6:30 A.M. The time is 6:30 A.M. The time is 6:30 A.M.”
Keith Kellman’s head emerged from under his pillow and trained a baleful eye on his talking alarm clock, which seemed to be taking special delight in waking him this Sunday morning. As his hand hit the “stop” button, he considered putting his head back under his pillow.
After all, the house heat was still off and it was cold out there. It wasn’t as if his parents would care if he got up or not; he was the sole churchgoer of the family. And he was tired. Early-morning seminary every weekday, and now priesthood meeting at 8:00 A.M. But then Keith sadly realized that all this thinking and debating had gotten his brain waves going, and he probably wouldn’t fall back to sleep anyway.
It wasn’t until he was showered, dressed, and halfway out the door that he remembered that today was the Sunday he had promised to give the bishop his answer.
He began to dig his car out of the snow, shivering and muttering to himself. Even before the Great Wednesday Humiliation, he had his doubts about going on a mission. But what had happened on Wednesday had really clinched it. But how do I tell the bishop? he wondered as his foot came down on the accelerator. The noise from his broken muffler shattered the morning silence.
“Cut your headlights. That must be him. Yep, ’80 rust bucket with an exhaust system loud enough to wake the neighborhood. Okay, he’s far enough ahead of us now. Pull out and follow him,” she said.
Keith was grateful his car made it to the church without the muffler falling off. He was also grateful he found a place to meditate before the meeting. He even began thinking the bishop might forget to call him into his office today.
Yeah, sure.
“Okay, so we followed him to this church and watched him go in. Now what? We know he hauls himself out of bed at an insane hour every morning to go to this church. You’ve seen what you wanted. Let’s go.”
“No. I want to wait a while and see if anybody else shows up. Then I’m going in to see what’s inside.”
“You’re going in? He’ll recognize you and know something’s up.”
“Don’t worry, baby brother. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m wearing my black wig today. I always wear my blonde wig to school. Anyway, I don’t exactly have the kind of face that will turn any heads. He’ll never know.”
“This is so stupid. If you’re that interested in this guy and his church, why don’t you just ask him what you want to know?”
“Listen. Anyone can mouth scriptures and high-sounding ideas. But does he really believe what he said last Wednesday. I want to know what this guy and everybody else inside are like when they don’t have an audience.”
“Following church, Keith went for his bishop’s interview. As he sat across from the bishop, Keith shifted nervously in his chair and then cleared his throat. “It isn’t that I don’t want to go on a mission.”
“Great, Keith. I’m glad you want to go.”
“Please, Bishop. I hate it when you do that. Look, it’s just that I really don’t think I’d make a good missionary. Face it. I weigh 120 pounds and I wear these stupid glasses. Nobody takes me seriously. I get so nervous when I have to speak in front of more than two people that I ooze sweat until my face turns red. Nobody’s going to listen to me; they’ll just laugh and slam the door in my face.”
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little, Keith?
“Every time I try to be a good example, I become a laughingstock. Like last Wednesday at school. I was just going to lunch when this guy, Greg Filtch, stops me and pulls me into the lunchroom office. He said that he heard I was a Mormon and that he was interested in hearing a little about the Church.” Keith took a deep breath and went on. “ I knew Greg liked practical jokes, but this time I thought he might be sincere. So I told him about the Book of Mormon and how the Church had changed my life.
“Sounds promising. What happened?” the bishop asked.
“It was a setup. He had the PA system microphone under his jacket. He was broadcasting my testimony to the entire school. When I came out of the office, everyone in the lunchroom was in hysterics. Now I’m known as Mr. Televangelist. Everyone’s always going, ‘Hey, Preacher’ and ‘Hallelujah! Got any more good sermons today?’ My one try at missionary work and I disgrace the Church.”
“You can’t disgrace the Church by doing the right thing. I hear you substituted for the Gospel Essentials teacher this morning.”
Keith shrugged. “Another disaster. I was supposed to be giving a lesson on the importance of baptism, but halfway through the class this black-haired, skinny girl comes in and sits on the back row. All of a sudden the lesson plan goes completely out of my head and I start talking about the plan of salvation. About a half hour of this andshe excuses herself and cuts out of class.”
The bishop raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes that happens to me too. I feel impressed to teach certain principles at certain times.”
But Keith didn’t hear the bishop. “I drove away the only investigator that’s come to that class in a month.”
“Well, how’d it go? You look like you’re hyperventilating and your eyes are red. Should I call the doctor?”
“No, just give me a few minutes. I’ve decided I’m going to need your help tomorrow, though.”
“Hey, it’s the lunch-time preacher man! Here’s a little something for the collection plate.” Keith ducked as pennies from the Monday morning school crowd showered him. As he continued walking, Keith suddenly found himself staring up at all 225 pounds of Mike “The Wall” Wade, starting left tackle on the football team.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Righteousness, the man who knows the truth about everything,” Mike said. “I hear you think you’re Mr. Informed, Kellman. Mr. I Know The Truth.”
“I never, uh, said … ” Keith began to sputter.
“Here’s the deal, Mr. Religious. Why don’t you just admit to me and all these good folks that you may have been wrong about all this church stuff?”
Keith’s eyes focused directly into Mike’s. For some reason, Mike’s expression reflected more curiosity than fierceness—more like he wanted to know something. Keith relaxed a little and said, “What are you going to do, Wall, bash everybody who doesn’t agree with you? What I said last week stands. I told the truth. You might as well learn to live with it.” Mike looked at him, seemed to think about what Keith had said, then walked off.
“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done for you, Sharon. I hope you’re satisfied.”
“I’m satisfied, Mike.”
“I have to admit, though. That Kellman kid was beginning to get to me too. No more games, okay?”
“Okay. It’s time to hang up the ol’ cloak and dagger. Hand me the phone book, will you?”
“I got here as soon as I could, Bishop,” said Keith, meeting the bishop in front of his office. The bishop opened the door but didn’t say anything. When Keith stepped inside, he saw Mike Wade and a thin, familiar-looking girl standing in the far corner of the room. They both looked uncomfortable.
“Keith,” the bishop said, “I think these people have something to tell you.”
Mike pointed to the girl. “My sister Sharon. I know we don’t look like we’re from the same family. I got all the healthy genes, I guess. She’s … ” Mike’s voice trailed off.
The pale girl started to speak. Before she could, it hit Keith.
“Hey, you’re the girl that came to my Sunday School class. And haven’t I seen you around school? Only with different hair?”
“Keith,” Sharon began in a soft, clear voice. “I’m afraid we’ve been doing some awful things to you. It was all my idea, so don’t blame Mike. We’ve been spying on you, following you, and causing you all sorts of grief.”
“I, I don’t understand.”
“I had to find out if you really believed what you said.”
“What I said about what?”
“Let’s just say we caught your broadcast from the lunchroom.”
“Ohhh no. Not that again,” Keith sighed.
She smiled. “It wasn’t only that. It’s a long story.”
Mike cut in. “We live near your church, and every day we’d wake up when your car would come chugging down the road.”
“I go to church on Sundays and early-morning seminary the rest of the week,” Keith explained. “I guess I better get my muffler fixed.”
Sharon picked up the story. “At first, the noise just made us mad. But then I got to thinking. Why would someone get up at 5:30 every morning? After hearing what you said last week, I—we—followed you to your church. I realized you go all alone; like no one’s forcing you to do this religious thing. I was curious to know more in view of my current situation.”
“Current situation,” Keith repeated mechanically.
“Under this wig, I don’t have any hair. Chemotherapy. And it’s not doing much good anymore.”
Keith stared blankly, then allowed what she had just told him to sink in.
“I’m not looking for miracle cures or healings. I’m beyond that, I think. What I am looking for is—how do I put this?—not why I’m going to die, but why I lived in the first place. Does my life count for anything? Is there some sort of plan to all this?”
“Anyway,” Mike continued, “Sharon’s got this funny feeling that maybe you know something most everybody else doesn’t. So she crashed your church class, eavesdropped, tested you, and even made me threaten you. I’m sorry about that.”
Keith looked from one to the other and found himself speechless.
“I don’t blame you if you’re angry, but I was getting kind of desperate to know if there was anybody out there who really believed in anything. I remember what you were saying in that church class, and it made me feel really good inside. I think you can tell me what I want to know. You can tell me why?”
Keith met her gaze. “Yeah, I think I can.”
The bishop, who had been standing behind them, finally spoke. “She’s asked to take the discussions from the missionaries, Keith. Maybe you’d like to sit in on them with her.”
Keith smiled and hooked a thumb at Mike. “What about His Wallness?”
Mike grinned. “Well, I could go. I guess I owe you that much.”
Keith added, “Maybe I could learn a few things too. Maybe even pick up a few pointers that will come in handy for the next two years.”

On another occasion, I had the opportunity to work with a woman who had experienced the trauma of domestic violence. Her experience had forged distrust of herself and others. During one activity, she climbed to the top of a telephone pole and stood. The object was for her to leap and ring a bell. The invitation was given for her to identify what she wanted to leap toward in her life. Standing on the swaying pole, she declared that she wanted a better life, to be a stronger person, and to be a courageous mother. She leaped and rang the bell. Her feet firmly planted on new ground, this would impact her family and her future. We all witnessed the intentionality of re-creation.

I urge you to do what a missionary companion of mine did. He had run away from home as a teenager, and someone had placed a Book of Mormon in a box he carried with him in his search for more happiness.
Years passed. He moved from place to place across the world. He was alone and unhappy one day, when he saw the box. The box was filled with things he had carried with him. At the bottom of the box, he found the Book of Mormon. He read the promise in it and tested it. He knew it was true. That witness changed his life. He found happiness beyond his fondest dreams.

As my junior year in high school was about to come to a close, going on a mission was not one of my great desires. I had been associating with the wrong kind of friends and had done some things that were not right.
My parents had always encouraged me to go on a mission, but I felt that my friends and the things I was doing were more important. This feeling kept me from planning on a mission. The thought which continually ran through my mind was, “There is no way the Lord would want someone like me as his representative.” This thought only discouraged me more.
On May 17th, my life changed. I was at a party with a club from our high school at a nearby boat dock. I had arrived early so I could help set up tables and unload the grills and food. About 20 minutes later, people started to come and began playing volleyball and throwing Frisbees. After a while the food was ready. The weather was starting to turn bad, and the wind was blowing fairly hard. While I was eating, some guys playing volleyball hit the ball into the river. Someone yelled at me to go get it. Why they shouted my name, I don’t know. Foolishly I hurried from the table, ran as fast as I could, and jumped into the river, clothes and all.
The wind was causing waves which pushed the ball further and further away from me, and I kept going after it. The water was getting cold, and my strength started to give out. Before long the ball was out of reach, and I couldn’t swim any longer. I started yelling for help as loud as I could, but if anyone had jumped in from the dock to save me, they could never have reached me in time.
Gradually, things became blurry, and I couldn’t hear. I felt myself sinking, and as soon as my head was underwater, I felt someone grasp my hand. I was lifted into a boat. I had no idea where the boat came from. I had not seen it previously, but it was there when I needed it. I was taken to the dock, where I became oriented again after about 10 minutes.
Two days later, I received a call from the owner of the boat. He said he was at his house trying to get his boat ready for a trip when he felt he should take it out for a test drive even though the wind was blowing and the river was rough. Why did he go? I hadn’t realized it at the time, but it was to save a future missionary.
My close call made me think. If I was saved from drowning in that river, there had to be some purpose in store for me. That thought stayed in my mind. Then one day as I sat gazing over the river that nearly claimed my life, it occurred to me—a mission! I wonder if I am supposed to fulfill a mission.
I soon received my patriarchal blessing, which said that I had been spared for a special mission. That confirmed the answer to my question.
I served in the Ohio Columbus Mission. I had never before had such a peaceful feeling about doing something right in my life. Yes, the Lord did want me as one of his representatives.
I realized you don’t have to wait for an experience such as the one I had to decide whether to go on a mission. Decide ahead of time and do everything in your power to be prepared when the time comes.
Missionary work is a great work. It is an experience we all should share.

For almost a year, between 2016 and 2017, the people in the Kasai region faced a terrible tragedy. It was a very dark period for the people because of a conflict between a traditional group of warriors and government forces. The violence spread from towns in Kasai-Central Province to the wider Kasai region. Many people fled their homes for safety and hid in the bush. They had no food or water or not anything, really, and among these were some members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Kananga area. Some members of the Church were killed by the militia.
Brother Honoré Mulumba of the Nganza Ward in Kananga and his family were some of the few people who remained hidden in their house, not knowing where to go because all the streets were transformed into firing ranges. One day some neighborhood militiamen had noticed the presence of Brother Mulumba and his family as one evening they went out to try to find some vegetables in the family garden to eat. A group of the militiamen came to their home and then pulled them out and told them to choose to adhere to their militia practices or be killed.
Brother Mulumba courageously told them, “I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My family and I have accepted Jesus Christ and have faith in Him. We will remain faithful to our covenants and will accept to die.”
They told them, “As you have chosen Jesus Christ, your bodies will be eaten by the dogs,” and they promised to come back. But they never did come back, and the family stayed there for two months and never saw them again. Brother Mulumba and his family kept the torch of their faith alight. They remembered their covenants and were protected.

Sasha was called to serve as branch Relief Society president at age 18. “At first I thought, ‘I have a lot of energy. I can do everything by myself. It will be so easy.’ But then I realized there were more than 90 sisters in the branch—most of them much older than I—and I couldn’t do anything by myself!”
She humbled herself and called upon the Lord for help. Her branch president encouraged her to unite the sisters in friendship. “We felt that visiting teaching was our most important work.”
For decades, Christmas had not been celebrated in Russia. But after a great deal of prayer, Sasha felt the importance of emphasizing the holiday as a celebration of the Savior’s birth. “I wanted every sister to feel the spirit of Christmas,” she says. In Homemaking meetings, they learned how to make stuffed animals out of fabric. Then small groups of sisters visited everyone in the branch—more than 50 homes—sharing Christmas greetings and delivering the toys to the children.
Sasha had been so busy with all the preparations and visits that she had never given any thought to receiving a visit herself. “But on December 23, the coldest night of the winter, my doorbell rang and four of my Relief Society sisters entered my apartment,” she remembers. “One of them hadn’t been active in the Church for a year and a half. They had already visited several sisters that evening, but they decided to come and visit me, too! It was so cold—they were frozen. But they lit candles and sang ‘Silent Night’ with me. They said a lot of kind words and gave me one of the Christmas cards we had made in Homemaking meeting! I felt so much love from them and from Heavenly Father.”
Later, many of the women told Sasha how much they had enjoyed making and receiving their Christmas visits. “As they told me their experiences, they were full of feelings, full of light and fire. I could feel warmth from them, even though it was the coldest time of the winter!”

Principle Number 1: In our quest for holy wisdom, we must have the faith to lay our whole selves on the altar.
To echo the words of President Dieter F. Uchtdorf:
To sacrifice means to give something up in favor of something more valuable. . . .
. . . Our sacrifices show what we truly value.1
My parents have acted as a powerful example of this principle. My family decided to immigrate to the United States when I was six years old. At the time, my father worked at an international law firm—which allowed him to practice law in the U.S. with his Australian law degree. Unfortunately, just a few months after we had moved to Utah, the firm was suddenly forced into bankruptcy.

Initially my parents saw this as God closing a door, signaling a return to stable work in Australia. However, after prayer and reflection, they felt guided to remain in Utah. This choice required uprooting our lives, including sending my father to law school for a second time to become eligible to practice in the United States.

Over the next three years, my parents raised five children in a cramped, three-room basement apartment, surviving on meals supplemented with one too many cans of beans. In choosing to follow God’s will, despite discomfort, my parents taught me that no cost is too high to pursue the Lord’s will.
Each of you has incorporated sacrifice into your BYU education, whether it was relinquishing your free hour to crochet hats with Y-Serve or deciding to enroll in a challenging major based solely on revelation. Your sacrifice, like that of my parents, has taught you to love the things the Lord loves. Your sacrifice has purified your hearts, fashioning you into worthy instruments in God’s hands and preparing you to go forth to serve.