Gospel Story Finder

Keryn stuffed an extra pair of jeans into her suitcase, then squeezed it shut.
“There!” she said to herself.
She had been looking forward to the school trip for months. Her class would be at camp for two days, living like pioneers—making candles, cooking over fires, even helping to build a log cabin.
Keryn glanced around the room, trying to spot anything she had missed. Her toothbrush was packed. She had clean clothes and an extra pair of shoes—oh, she’d better grab her old sweatshirt.
As she picked up her sweatshirt off the floor, her eyes fell on her scriptures on the table by the bed, and she froze.
Each member of her family had agreed to read the Book of Mormon daily, and so far Keryn hadn’t missed a night. But how was she supposed to read it in a cabin full of girls from school? With a sigh, she unlatched her suitcase, stuffed her scriptures between T-shirts and jeans, and sat on the suitcase to close it. Maybe she could find some quiet time to go off by herself and read.
“C’mon, Keryn. Race you to the campfire!” Sarah took off, and Keryn ran to catch up.
The day had been fun and very busy. Keryn had chopped at a log to help build the cabin, dunked candlewicks into wax over and over, carved a whale out of soap, and swum in the lake.
The fun carried on through the campfire time of singing songs and listening to a storyteller. Finally, Keryn, Sarah, and two of their cabinmates marched through the darkness to the cabin arm in arm, singing loudly.
The girls flopped onto their bunk beds, told stories, and laughed about the day. Then one by one they began to get ready for bed.
Keryn brushed her teeth, then climbed onto her top bunk and listened to the others. She had decided to leave her scriptures in the suitcase, but she just didn’t feel right. Then these words came into her mind: “Read them. You know you need to read them.”
Reluctantly, Keryn climbed out of bed and pulled her scriptures out of her suitcase. Then she climbed back up and tried to open the Book of Mormon without being noticed.
No such luck. She had just found her place in Mosiah when Sarah poked her head over the edge of the bunk. “What are you reading?” she asked.
“OK,” Keryn told herself, “it’s time to be a missionary.”
“It’s a book like the Bible, and it’s called the Book of Mormon,” she said aloud.
Sarah climbed up on the bunk with her. “What’s it about?”
Carol and Tasha gathered around, too.
Keryn sat up. “Well, right now I’m in a part called Mosiah, and a prophet named Abinadi is preaching the gospel to the wicked king and his priests. He’s telling them about the Ten Commandments and all the things they should already know. But they’re doing evil things instead.” She scooted over so Tasha could climb up.
“What happens to them?” Tasha asked.
“Well, later Abinadi won’t deny God, so the king has him killed.”
“What?” exclaimed Sarah. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it’s really sad,” Keryn agreed. “But Alma, one of the king’s priests, really listens to Abinadi. He ends up teaching the gospel to lots of people.”
“That’s awesome,” Tasha said. “I read my Bible most days, but I didn’t bring it here.” Then she flipped onto her stomach and reached down to the bottom bunk. “Hey, Carol, did you see me jump in the lake?”
Keryn smiled as the conversation turned back to the day’s events. She was glad she hadn’t left her scriptures in her suitcase, glad her friends didn’t make fun of her, and glad she had a chance to tell them about the Book of Mormon.
She looked at Sarah, Carol, and Tasha, now talking about their craft projects, then turned back to her book and continued reading about Abinadi and King Noah.

“Danny, have you thought much about serving a mission?” I immediately broke into a cold sweat. I suspected that Bishop Collier had more in mind than just a friendly chat when he invited me to visit him in his office. But I never dreamed this subject would come up. At least, I hadn’t intended to mention it.
I answered as honestly as I could. “No, sir.”
“You mean you have no plans for being a missionary?” He spoke softly, but his eyes looked right through me.
“No, sir, you see with school and all … ,” I mumbled. It didn’t sound very convincing, even to me.
Then an amazing thing happened. Bishop Collier got up and went into the next room. Just when I had closed my ears against the big speech about duty and responsibility, he left. When he returned a minute later, he handed me a book, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder.
“Here,” he said, “if you get a chance sometime, read it. It’s really done a lot for me.”
“Sure.” I didn’t even look up.
I left his office totally bewildered.
I was 18 years old and thought I knew pretty well what I wanted to do with my life. Even though my parents had joined the Church when I was quite young, I didn’t think serving a full-time mission would fit into my plans very well. I went back to school, tossed Bishop Collier’s book into my “junk” drawer and forgot about it.
At least I tried to forget about it. The reason I put the book in my junk drawer was because I could never find anything in there. But now, every time I opened that drawer, the book with the gray and red cover sat right on top of everything else. I finally decided it wouldn’t hurt to look at it.
A few days later, I finished reading it. This was a missionary-oriented book. (Something I suspect Bishop Collier knew about!) I had never realized how much the Lord’s church, the spreading of the gospel, depends on missionary service. I knew someone had to perform that service, but I never imagined the Lord expected me to do it! I began to feel I had a priesthood responsibility waiting to be fulfilled.
Something else had happened. I was hungry—hungry for spiritual food. I had never read any of the standard works of the Church. Basically, I had been starving myself.
I bought a triple combination. Two weeks later I turned the last page in that volume. It took me longest to read the Book of Mormon. It was the only book I ever read that made me cry. That slowed me up quite a bit. When I read about the great missionary labors of Alma, Ammon, and others—their great love for people they hadn’t known before—I couldn’t understand such feelings. I was deeply moved by their patient submission to trials and hardships and by their joy in success. I wanted to belong to such a brotherhood.
I now found myself at a point where I had to make a decision. I knew what I should do. I should ask Heavenly Father what he wanted me to do. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I knew what he would say. One thing I had learned in my short life—never ask Heavenly Father anything unless you really want an answer, because you will likely get one.
I asked friends, family, people I respected, what they thought I should do. I got every answer you could dream of and became hopelessly confused.
I even began to have tormenting dreams that pushed and pulled at the very fibers of my soul and made me want to scream.
Finally, I found myself on my knees, attempting what I should have done in the first place.
“Heavenly Father”—even now I tried to talk him out of it—“you know I’m stubborn, rebellious, hotheaded …”
The feeling of warmth, calm, and love that washed over me caused immediate regret for not having prayed about it sooner. I didn’t really have to ask what Heavenly Father wanted me to do. I already knew what I had to do—what I would do.

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley
More than sixty years ago, a small boy on an Idaho farm went with his father to the field. While the father worked through the day, the boy amused himself with one thing and another. Over the fence were some old farm buildings, derelict and tumbled down. The boy with imagination saw in them castles to be entered. He climbed through the fence and approached the buildings to begin his exploration. As he drew near, a voice was heard to say, “Harold, don’t go over there.” He looked to see if his father was around. He was not. But the boy heeded the warning. He turned and ran. He never knew what danger might have been lurking there, nor did he question. Having listened and heard, he obeyed.

It was just an ordinary sacrament meeting. At that moment, Latter-day Saints were sitting in sacrament meetings in thousands of chapels all over the world. But then something happened to make this particular sacrament meeting special.
After the sacrament had been passed, I sat looking around as the bishop got up to speak. There sat the Spillman family. Jane was facing the bishop, but her arm rested across her husband’s back. Her husband, Richard, was holding their new son, Tommy. He looked into the baby’s face as he fed him with a bottle. That’s what drew my attention to Joel, who was ever-so-gently stroking his baby brother’s head.
Spiritual experiences come in many ways. As I looked at the Spillmans, I felt a sense of peace in the room. I began to look around, and I noticed some wonderful things.
Four-year-old Ashley Anderson, who had been sitting with her mother on the front row, came down the aisle to the back row to sit on Brother Deloy Nielsen’s knee. Countless hours of helping in the nursery had made him a “borrowed grandpa” to many little children who loved him.
Testimony bearing started. An elderly couple, whom I had never seen before, sat in the middle of the chapel. He had his arm around her, and their silver heads were bent close together.
A young man got up and quietly showed a young child the way out. It was Gary—Mindy and David’s son. A sweet spirit filled the room as family after family drew close and touched one another spiritually.
Dallas’s little girl sat on his lap. She reached over and hugged him. Toddler Donelle took turns going from Jackie to Wayne for hugs and loves. The chapel, at that moment, was a special place, with a special spirit.
Recently baptized Jared, Kim’s young son, bore his testimony and then sat close to his dad. As more testimonies were shared, members continued to partake of the spirit.
As I sat there, I thought again about the Saints gathered in rooms, rented halls, and chapels all over the world, enjoying the same spirit I was enjoying. Even members like me, sitting alone because loved ones lived elsewhere or had passed away, were not really alone. We were all together for this special time, on an ordinary Sunday, in an ordinary ward, in an ordinary stake of Zion.
Just another sacrament meeting? It all depends on how you look at it.

Examples of his high regard for youths are abundant. When John Bellows and his father once visited the Prophet, the boy felt important because Joseph Smith paid “considerable attention to me” during the hour’s conversation between the two adults. William H. Walker told how the Prophet, upon learning that a house guest had insulted one of the hired girls at the Mansion House, ordered the man out without allowing him to pay his bill: “I want none of your money, or any other man’s of your kind.” On another occasion, Emma and Joseph took in some of the ten Walker children when Sister Walker died. “Every privilege was accorded us,” daughter Lucy Walker recorded. Joseph Smith treated her brother Loren like an intimate and trusted friend: “He was ever by his side arm in arm; they walked and conversed freely on various subjects.” When the prophet, as a house guest once with the Hess family, tired of studying, he diverted himself by playing with the children in their games around the house, including fourteen-year-old John W. Hess.

While I served as President of the Europe Area, Sister Wirthlin and I traveled throughout Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Norway holding meetings and conferences with members and missionaries. As we neared the end of our travels, we arrived with President and Sister John Langeland of the Norway Oslo Mission in the small city of Alta, Norway. We were happy that we had made the extra effort to meet the members in such a remote place. But while chatting with the local Church leaders, we learned there was yet one more small branch even farther north in Hammerfest, one of the world’s northernmost cities.
To our surprise, we learned that several years earlier, Elder Howard W. Hunter had been the first General Authority to visit the Hammerfest Branch. The story of that visit says much about the man whom the Lord later chose as his prophet, seer, and revelator:
“‘Hammerfest is difficult to reach by normal transportation. It was originally planned that the visitors would fly … by seaplane. A change in the weather eliminated any possibility of using a plane, as is often the case. It was decided that they should travel by car from Alta, the closest city to Hammerfest with a commercial airport. Snow had started to cover the roads. Several times en route Elder Hunter and [President Leo M.] Jacobsen had to push their car through the snow. When it seemed as if further progress was impossible, a truck came by and towed the car over the summit to Hammerfest.’
“‘They finally arrived at ten-thirty that night for a meeting that was to have started at seven o’clock, and found that most of the members had waited” (quoted in Eleanor Knowles, Howard W. Hunter [1994], 175–76).
The members in Hammerfest, anxious to meet an Apostle and hear the voice of one called as a special witness, waited three and a half hours for Elder Hunter’s delayed arrival. Their faith, hope, and prayers were rewarded as he shared with them his powerful testimony of the Savior.

At our wedding shower, she gave me the strings she had cut from her kitchen apron, symbolizing that she would let him go. And she did. She didn’t bring pots of hot soup regularly to our house to make sure that he had a good, nutritious meal. She didn’t arrange his dental appointments for him.
She didn’t always remember my birthday, but she did better than that: She remembered me kindly and gave me the most precious gift of all—her confidence that I could handle my life with her son and her grandchildren.

Perhaps Scott has learned there is always somebody watching. On the rink it may be a scout or a future coach. In life it could be anybody.
“When Scott played on the Southern Alberta Select Team,” says Mary, “the coach told the team they needed to drink coffee to get going for the games. Scott and another LDS player wouldn’t.”
Scott smiles. “The funny thing was all the other kids ordered coffee, but they ordered caffeine free.”

Our daughter’s family dealt with a serious medical challenge, and dinners from kind neighbors were arranged. The first night, a hot pot of chicken noodle soup arrived, with a side of warm chocolate chip cookies. The next afternoon, friends dropped off lunch—chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies. And that night, yes, chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies was the dinner of choice provided by another good Samaritan. And the next night—you guessed it—another pot of chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies arrived for dinner.
This isn’t just a funny story about chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies. It’s a story of caring for a sister and her family in need. With each spoonful of soup and bite of chocolate chip cookie, our daughter and her family felt loved and supported. Each pot of soup and plate of cookies was made from a different recipe unique to each sister. Isn’t that the way we are in our service? We reach out in our own uniqueness, with our own ways and personally inspired recipes. We don’t get hung up on what to do; we just do it.

My friends also set a good example for me when they chose to serve missions. Although I faced some opposition, I decided I also wanted to serve a mission. That decision has shaped the rest of my life. When I served in the Samoa Apia Mission, the missionaries carried much of the priesthood leadership responsibilities, and I could see that the Church in the islands needed to be strengthened. I made up my mind to do my part—I would return to Samoa after finishing my mission and my education.

After graduation from college, my wife and I moved to Samoa, where we raised our children and worked to strengthen the Church and the community. My father, not a member of the Church, was actively involved in local business and community affairs. His motto was “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” As my siblings and I discovered the gospel and lived it to the best of our abilities, he noticed the changes for good in our lives. In 1999, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) stayed in my father’s home on his return from the groundbreaking of the Suva Fiji Temple. During that visit, the Spirit touched my father’s heart, and I was privileged to baptize him when he was 80 years old. He found great joy in the gospel and was unashamed and bold in sharing it with others during the last days of his life.

I know the importance of being an example of the believers and the happiness it brings into our lives and the lives of others. Because of my friends’ good examples and the love of a prophet, my family and I have been blessed with the joy the gospel brings.

Every day we influence others by our actions. Let us be sure to reach out to others and share the truth of this scripture that it may bring happiness to their lives too: “Remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall” (Helaman 5:12).

Illustrations by Emma Gillette
Eli ran to the window when he heard the pitter-patter of rain falling outside. He saw big black clouds and watched the rain hit the sidewalk.
“Man! How am I going to practice now?” he said. Eli had just signed up for middle-school football, and he had a game coming up.
Eli’s younger brother, Mitch, came to look out the window too. That gave Eli an idea.
“Hey, Mitch,” Eli said. “Want to help me practice my football passes?”
“Inside?” Mitch asked. “Mom would get really mad.”
“She won’t find out,” Eli said. “She’s at the store. We just have to be careful.”
“Well, OK,” said Mitch.
Eli ran upstairs to grab his football. Then he and Mitch started throwing it back and forth.
Eli made a catch in front of the couch. Then another. He was getting pretty good! He threw the ball back to Mitch.
The ball sailed over Mitch’s head. Mitch jumped, his arms outstretched, but it was too high.
CRASH!
“Oh no!” Mitch said. The football had smashed into the shelf where Mom kept her fancy dishes. He and Eli rushed over and stared at the pile of broken plates.
“Maybe we can glue them back together?” Eli said.
Mitch grabbed a tube of glue from the cabinet, and they tried to fit the pieces together. But some were chipped and couldn’t be glued back right.
Maybe we could throw the broken ones away, Eli thought. Mom might not even notice. We can space out the other dishes to fill in the gaps.
But as soon as the idea popped into his mind, he knew it was wrong.
Eli had just become a deacon. He knew that honoring the priesthood meant he needed to be honest. When Dad ordained him, Dad said that there might be times when he would be tempted to do the wrong thing but that he would be able to make the right choice. Eli knew what he needed to do.
“What’re we going to do?” Mitch asked. “Mom’s going to be really mad!”
“We have to tell the truth,” Eli said.
When Mom got home with their baby sister, Annie, Eli and Mitch told her the bad news.
“Mom,” Eli began, “I know we’re not supposed to, but we were playing football inside. I threw the ball too hard, and it crashed into the shelf and broke some plates. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
Mom looked at Eli and Mitch. She looked sad for a moment, then said, “Thank you for being honest. I’m proud of you for telling me.”
“How can I make it right?” Eli asked.
“Well, you can start by helping me clean up the broken glass,” Mom said. “Then while you help me with Annie, we’ll talk about ways you can earn money to replace the plates.”
After they cleaned up the mess, Eli spent the afternoon playing with Annie. He felt bad that he broke Mom’s plates, but he learned that it always feels good to be honest.
See family manual, page 104; Primary manual, page 102.

Steve Hammond, 14, of King Salmon, Alaska, is an Eagle Scout, but he didn’t have a troop to help him reach his goal. Steve was following in the footsteps of his 16-year-old brother, David. Both boys earned their Eagle badges as Lone Scouts.
Their father became a registered Scoutmaster so he could supervise their work. He wanted his sons to do their work the right way. He says, “I was probably tougher on them than another Scoutmaster would have been.”
Steve had a wonderful time earning his fishing merit badge. He hooked a 36-pound king salmon.
Steve and David made something of a competition out of earning merit badges. They received their awards together in a special court of honor. As an Eagle project, Steve and David took on the restoration of a nearby Russian Orthodox church cemetery.
Steve and David are in the King Salmon Branch, Alaska Anchorage Mission.

A television commercial inspired Matt Bryant, 12, to make a light that could be turned on by the sound of a voice. In the commercial, Matt saw a light that turned on by the sound of hands clapping, and he thought he could produce a similar light and enter it in his school’s “invention convention.” Matt’s light that responded to the sound of a voice attracted a lot of attention.
Matt was chosen as one of 55 finalists in the statewide contest. He was selected to attend a reception with the governor, and his light was then put on display at the New York State Museum in Albany.
Matt is a deacon in the Fairport Ward, Rochester New York Palmyra Stake.

Share in the fun of a happy Christmas feeling. On a piece of paper write the following list of words, cut out, mix up, and paste them in the blank spaces as you read this true story.
jars of jelly
candy canes for the tree
long-stemmed red roses
presents wrapped in red
bags of cookies
pieces of pink divinity
pieces of fruit
chewy popcorn balls
loaves of date bread
lace-trimmed handkerchiefs
pieces of fruitcake
pieces of candy
decorated gingerbread men
cakes
Mrs. Gallagher finished trimming her small Christmas tree. Beneath the tree she carefully placed each small figure in the manger scene.
“Dear me, dear me,” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher, “Christmas is only twelve days away and I still haven’t felt a happy Christmas spirit. My tree looks lovely and I have received many cards and packages through the mail. Now why am I feeling sad?”
Mrs. Gallagher went to her bay window and watched the six children next door help their father bring in a large Christmas tree.
“Now there’s the answer to my question right before my eyes,” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher. “I’m lonesome. My children are grown and can’t come home for Christmas this year. I won’t be able to share Christmas with my grandchildren.”
Mrs. Gallagher blinked and a few tears ran down the wrinkles in her cheeks.
“Say, I’ve got to do something besides stand here and cry,” said Mrs. Gallagher. “And I think I’ll start by making some ginger-cream cookies to share with my neighbors. Then I’ll sit at my old pump organ and play some Christmas songs.”
Mrs. Gallagher was taking the last batch of cookies out of the oven and was about to sit down at her organ when the doorbell rang.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children from next door sang out and Mary Lynn, the oldest girl, handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
The children stayed a little while to visit and to enjoy some fresh, warm cookies. As soon as they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened her package.
On the first day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
One large loaf of bread.
“What a nice Christmasy thing to do,” said Mrs. Gallagher delightedly as she taped the note to her bay window. She enjoyed the bread and some ginger-creams with her supper that evening.
The doorbell rang before Mrs. Gallagher had even finished breakfast the next morning.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” said the children from next door again, and Erick handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
The children stayed just a minute. When they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the second day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Two ____________________.
“Another surprise!” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher and she taped the note to her bay window. What thoughtful children I have living next door to me, she thought.
The next day the doorbell rang as Mrs. Gallagher was sitting down to lunch.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” called the children and Kathy handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
As soon as they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the third day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Three ____________________.
Mrs. Gallagher taped another note to her bay window. She was enjoying the visits and all of the presents but she had to admit she was a little surprised.
The next afternoon the doorbell rang and it was the children again. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” they said all together and Robby handed her a package with a note on top. Mrs. Gallagher smiled when she read the note on the package.
On the fourth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Four ____________________.
“Now isn’t that thoughtful of those children!” said Mrs. Gallagher. With a happy smile on her face she taped the fourth note to her bay window. The next day when the children came, she was standing near the window waiting and watching.
She opened the front door to greet them. Three-year-old Jeremy handed her a package with a note on top.
When the children left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the fifth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Five ____________________.
“Just what I love,” said Mrs. Gallagher and she was as happy as could be. “I wonder if the children will come again tomorrow morning,” she said to herself as she taped the fifth note to her bay window.
The children did come the following morning and every morning during the next week to wish Mrs. Gallagher a Merry Christmas. Every afternoon they worked in their kitchen preparing the next day’s note and gift for Mrs. Gallagher. This is what their notes said:
On the sixth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Six ____________________.
On the seventh day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Seven ____________________.
On the eighth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Eight ____________________.
On the ninth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Nine ____________________.
On the tenth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Ten ____________________.
On the eleventh day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
.Eleven ____________________.
Mrs. Gallagher was more excited than ever on Christmas day as she waited and waited at her bay window.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children called as they climbed up the front steps. Cameron, the smallest child, handed her a package with a note on top.
Mrs. Gallagher smiled with delight and said, “Come in children. I have a Christmas treat for all of you too.”
While the children ate ginger-cream cookies, Mrs. Gallagher sat at her old pump organ and played Christmas songs for them.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children called out as they waved good-bye and, after they were gone, she read the note and opened the package.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Twelve ____________________.
On the bottom of the note it read, “P.S., We love you, Mrs. Gallagher!”
“What a happy Christmas this turned out to be,” said Mrs. Gallagher. She taped the note to her bay window beside the others.
She left them there all year. And whenever she was lonely she would stand at her bay window and reread her cheery Christmas messages.

My third counsel relates to some of the goals you should consider. At approximately the same time that Elder Perry was in Japan with the marines, President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, served in Japan with the air force at the end of World War II.
In 2004, I accompanied President Packer and others to Japan. He had an opportunity to retrace some of his steps and reflect on some of the experiences and decisions he made at that time. With his permission, I share some of his thoughts and feelings.
President Packer described experiences that occurred on an island off the coast of Okinawa. He considers this as his mount in the wilderness. His personal preparation and meeting with other members had deepened his belief in gospel teachings. What he yet lacked was confirmation—sure knowledge of that which he had already come to feel was true.
President Packer’s biographer captures what happened: “Counter to the peace of confirmation he sought, he came face to face with the hell of war against the innocent. Seeking solitude and time to think, he climbed, one day, to a rise above the ocean. There he found the gutted remains of a peasant cottage, its neglected sweet potato field nearby. And lying amid the dying plants he saw the corpses of a slaughtered mother and her two children. The sight filled him with a deep sadness mingled with the feelings of love for his own family and for all families.”6
He subsequently went inside a makeshift bunker, where he contemplated, pondered, and prayed. President Packer, in looking back on this event, described what I would call a confirming spiritual experience. He felt inspired as to what he should do with his life. He, of course, had no idea that he would be called to the high and holy calling he now holds. His vision was that he wanted to be a teacher, emphasizing the teachings of the Savior. He made up his mind that he would live a righteous life.
It came to him in a rather profound way that he would have to find a righteous wife and that together they would raise a large family. This young soldier recognized that his career choice would provide modest compensation and that his sweet companion would need to share the same priorities and be willing to live without some material things. Sister Donna Packer was, and is, for President Packer, the perfect companion. They never had enough excess money, but they did not feel deprived in any way. They raised 10 children, and they sacrificed. They now have 60 grandchildren and more than 80 great-grandchildren.

The museum was in the heart of the city. Urban decay had rotted away the neighborhood near the museum. They parked the car and walked along a newspaper-strewn sidewalk.

A man stood in a doorway watching them approach. He held in one hand a twisted brown paper bag which contained a bottle. As they came near him, he stumbled out of the doorway toward them.

“Are you Mormons?” he asked, slurring his words.

“Yes,” Scott answered.

“I thought so. Well, I’ve got a question for you. Do you know Jesus Christ?”

The man leaned forward, thrusting his face at Scott.

“Our church can tell you more about the Savior than any other church,” Scott said.

“That’s not what I want to know. Do you, yourself, know him?”

Scott felt the man’s probing glare. He’s only a drunk, he thought. He probably has to beg for whiskey.

“Do you know Jesus Christ?” the man again demanded.

Scott tried to move aside, but the man grabbed his coat sleeve.

“Do you know Jesus Christ?”

“Let go of me!” Scott ordered, jerking his sleeve and running for the museum doors. Elder Anderson followed after him.

“Tell me!” the man shrieked.

“Well, he won’t follow us in here,” Elder Anderson said with a smile in the museum lobby.

“Why not?” Scott asked, still shaken by the experience.

“Because it costs two dollars to get in.”

They strolled through the museum corridors, following the progress of mankind from earliest times until the present. Around every corner, Scott expected to see the man charging toward him, yelling his question, but he never saw the man again.

As they stood before one exhibit, Elder Anderson stood beside Scott and said quietly, “Elder, I’m sorry. I didn’t even want to be a zone leader.”

Scott turned slightly to acknowledge his companion. “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.”

Several seconds passed, and then Elder Anderson asked quietly, “Whose fault is it?”

Scott looked at him, puzzled by the question. “Is it President Snowden’s fault for receiving the inspiration? Or is it the Lord’s fault for giving the inspiration?”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said quickly. “I didn’t mean that. It just slipped out.”

Scott couldn’t sleep that night. An overwhelming feeling of failure crept into his throat and chest and crushed down. Dreams became nightmares. The man from the street ran through his thoughts, shouting at him with the same question.

Members try to share that peace and strength with their neighbors. In San Fernando, Rogelio and Olaya Parra, Jorge’s parents, have been sharing for decades now. Their stake president says more than 100 local members have come into the Church through contacts with this couple.

When they were baptized in 1972, Rogelio recalls, “My father told me I was crazy.” Olaya says her family also was upset, but, “I’m not influenced by what people think if I know it’s right.”

Shortly after their baptism, Olaya recalls with a laugh, “I was president of the Primary, and I had no idea what the Primary was. I was lost.” She learned quickly. She has gone on to teach and hold leadership roles in all the auxiliary organizations, and her husband has held a variety of leadership positions; currently he is stake patriarch and serves as a temple sealer.

Back in those early days in San Fernando, the Parras hosted the missionary discussions for many of the first converts in the area. That is exactly the way it should be, says former mission president Faustino López of the Alcalá de Henares Second Ward, Madrid Spain East Stake. He served as president of the Spain Málaga Mission—the first Spaniard to preside over a mission in his home country. “Members are the only ones who can open some doors,” he says. The Church has a good reputation among those who know of it through friends. Without member help, however, missionaries often have difficulty finding people to teach.

Beth Lancaster, a Mia Maid, had been going to church for years with her member friends before she was baptized. One day, when Beth was 13, she asked her friend, Megan Rasmussen, if she could take the discussions. Beth says, “I wouldn’t have asked her if it hadn’t been for all my friends’ examples and the joy they had in their lives.”
“I saw the examples of the Rasmussen family and the Bromley family and how happy they were and how much love they had in their lives,” Beth says. “I decided I wanted some of that.”
Sixteen-year-old Jake Bromley, one of Beth’s good friends, says, “You never know when somebody will be looking at you, wondering why members of the Church are so good and what makes them so happy. Be a good example 100 percent of the time.”

Lobo is the reason David started going to church in the first place. He was out one morning when some boys from the neighborhood ran up and asked if they could pet his dog. They were three brothers, all younger than David, and they weren’t allowed to have a dog themselves. So David let them pet his dog. After that, the boys started coming around all the time to see Lobo, and eventually they told him they were LDS. Did David want to come to church with them some time?

That’s how it happened. The rest was simple. David prayed about it, and he gained a testimony of the gospel. Unfortunately, those three boys moved away.

Now David goes to church by himself. He takes the 7:45 one train to Lincoln Center, then walks across the street, skirting the construction at the corner of 65th and Columbus. It’s the seven-story building with the gold lettering above the door that says “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” “Visitors Welcome” is the sign on the corner, but David is not a visitor.

Embarking on my education with BYU-Pathway Worldwide presented daunting challenges—power outages and unreliable internet connectivity which threatened to derail my academic pursuits, threatening my ability to complete the one-year PathwayConnect program. Despite my fears, I persevered, relying on prayer and faith. Miraculously, I witnessed divine intervention, which bolstered my confidence as an online student. A job opportunity, facilitated by a friend, provided the means to provide backup electricity and secure reliable Wi-Fi. It felt like a miracle! With these basic necessities restored, I felt a renewed sense of hope and determination to pursue my educational goals. However, my journey was far from smooth sailing.
Upon graduation from PathwayConnect, acceptance into BYU-Idaho’s online bachelor’s program brought renewed concerns. The unexpected loss of my job caused some financial hardship, which left me with no means to afford tuition and essential course materials. Depleted savings increased my worries, yet I knew that quitting school was not an option. As President Dieter. F. Uchtdorf once said, “For members of the Church, education is not merely a good idea—it’s a commandment”.
Amidst fervent prayers and contemplation, I saw a post on LinkedIn by Matt Richards, who works at BYU-Pathway. He talked about the Hall Foundation Scholarship. It was like an answer to my prayers! This scholarship helped me pay for school and books, so I could keep studying. Its promise of financial support was a lifeline in my time of need. Securing the scholarship eased the burden of tuition and expenses, allowing me to focus on my academic pursuits. Even when things seemed tough, I learned to trust that help would come when I needed it most. With faith and help from above, I’m about to graduate. It’s been a journey full of ups and downs, but I know I’m not alone. There are miracles all around us, if we just keep believing.