Gospel Story Finder

Randy was in my math class in ninth grade, but on the first day I waited for him to pick a desk and then I sat on the opposite side of the room. Darren McCoy, a tall red-headed kid, sat in front of him, and I watched to see what would develop.
After Mr. Washington passed out the first exam, and we all bowed our heads to our papers, I saw Randy mouth the familiar words to the back of Darren’s head.
“Hey, what’s the answer to number one?”
I knew Darren heard Randy, because his pencil stopped moving, but he didn’t turn or acknowledge the voice behind him.
Randy leaned closer and whispered again. This time Darren turned quickly and gave him a haughty look; then he put his pencil back on his exam and defiantly began to add numbers.
Randy tried one more time, this time he flicked one of Darren’s ears with his finger. Darren made an annoyed, contemptuous grunt and shuffled his desk forward. About that time Mr. Washington stood up and began walking around the room. Randy reluctantly gave up and hunched over his own paper.
Darren came to class the next day with a big black eye, but when the midterm exam came up, Darren stonewalled Randy again. I’m sure ninth grade was the longest nine months of Darren McCoy’s life, but he didn’t break. He said nothing to Randy, who was forced to make it through the class on his own merits.

A stake president in Logan, Utah, kept a guest book, and after he passed away that book was given to his son. When the son thumbed through the pages, he was impressed with the signatures that were there. Most of the General Authorities had signed the book. One entry he saw was:

Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1954
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

He thumbed through many more pages, and then he saw an almost identical entry ten years later:

Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1964
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

We all knew President Spencer W. Kimball as a man of love. He thought of love as a way to overcome even unknown offenses. Such an incident occurred with one of his neighbors who would go out and talk to President Kimball whenever he saw him in the yard. Until one day the neighbor’s wife said, “You mustn’t do that. The only time President Kimball is alone is when he is in the yard, and then you go over and impose yourself upon him.” After that the neighbor stayed in and just watched President Kimball through the window. A few weeks passed before President Kimball rang the neighbor’s doorbell and handed him a casserole. “What’s this for?” the neighbor asked. “I don’t know,” replied President Kimball. “I’ve come to make amends for whatever I’ve done to offend you. You never come and talk to me anymore, so I decided I must have done something wrong.”
It was President Kimball who so lovingly explained to us that the Lord whispers to our hearts to go and do and in this way he answers the fervent prayers of others. President Kimball said the Lord has chosen this method of answering prayers because he knows it is the way we will learn most effectively to give love.

Recalling his childhood in the Church of England, Elder Cuthbert said, “I sang in the church choir in three services each Sunday. The choirmistress was a good teacher, and I learned to love the Psalms, which are songs of praise and thanksgiving to God. When I was eleven, the choirmistress went to Zululand, South Africa, as a missionary. Her example helped me become interested in missionary work at an early age.
“After I joined the Lord’s true Church, He called me as a district missionary, then as a stake missionary, and later as a mission president. Now, as a General Authority, I will always be a missionary. A Seventy is a special witness of Jesus Christ to all the world.
“I am sure that you Primary children know many missionaries, some perhaps in your own family. They are examples for you to follow; Jesus wants all of us to be missionaries. One of my favorite scriptures is in Matthew, when Jesus was instructing His apostles just before He ascended into heaven: ‘Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost’ (Matt. 28:19). He is saying the same to us today through His prophet, President Benson. Boys and girls, start preparing for your missions now—by study, by prayer, and by helping others.
“I have seen many examples of faith and courage among young missionaries in the Church. Ian Menzies, a missionary in Scotland, said, ‘I must finish my mission,’ even though he had a tumor on his brain. Through faith and determination and priesthood administration, he accomplished what others said was impossible. Peter Chaya, a missionary in Zimbabwe, Africa, fulfilled his mission on crutches. He had lost the use of both legs through polio when he was a child. Pip Lees served as a stake missionary in England. Her companion pushed her door to door in a wheelchair for two years.
“During December 1987, I had some Church assignments in Bolivia, a beautiful South American country where the Church is growing rapidly but where the people have very little. The Regional Representative, Elder Philip Kradolfer, accompanied me, and he brought a large suitcase full of toys. Just before Christmas each year, his children give up some of their toys to help the children living in the Altiplano, or high plateau region, of Bolivia. It was wonderful to see the children’s faces as they received a doll, a game, a book, or a purse. Jesus taught that it is better to give than to receive, and I am sure that you have felt the same happiness when you have been a secret helper.
“While serving in South America last year,” Elder Cuthbert recalled, “I met many people who had little to eat and hardly a roof over their heads. Many are hearing the gospel and are being baptized. The children are attending Primary and are preparing for missions, just like you.
“In your prayers, would you remember these boys and girls who have a very hard life? As you prayerfully express thanks for the blessings that you enjoy, fill yourself up with gratitude and let it overflow into service. As you help other children, you will not want so much for yourselves.”

I recall visiting a college campus where I heard the usual, commonplace complaining of youth: complaints about the pressures of school—as if it were a burden rather than an opportunity to partake of the knowledge of the earth—complaints about housing and about food.
I counseled those youth that if the pressures of school were too heavy, if they felt to complain about their housing and their food, then I could suggest a cure for their problems. I suggested that they lay their books aside for a few hours, leave their rooms, and go visit someone who is old and lonely, or someone sick and discouraged. By and large, I have come to see that if we complain about life, it is because we are thinking only of ourselves.

The audience cheered and applauded in approval. The concert was over. The boys bowed to the crowds as beads of perspiration streamed down their faces.
They were satisfied with their performance. They had worked long and hard to prepare for this tour, and the effort was again paying off. The fans yelled for more as they clapped and whistled wildly in an effort to persuade the group to sing another song. The boys nodded their heads to each other and sprang once more to their instruments for an additional number.
This was one of their many moments of triumph. From Australia to Germany, from England to Japan, from Canada to South America, from California to New York, the Osmonds had become a household word. Everyone knew them all—or did they?
As the boys performed their encore, a young man stood backstage like a silent shadow and watched. He couldn’t hear the music clearly, but he could feel its beat. His excited smile was almost exaggerated as his eyes followed them and beamed with pride. He shuffled his feet as though to imitate the dance routine the boys were now performing.
He was their older brother, Tom. As he watched, he longed to be with them, but he knew that was impossible because he is deaf.
How does it feel to be a member of the famous and successful Osmond family without being able to be a part of their theatrical accomplishments? Tom explains it this way:
“People meet my famous brothers with excitement just beaming from their eyes. When they are introduced to me and find out I am one of the brothers, too, they briefly shake my hand, give me a look of pity, and quickly return to their first interest, my brothers. It really used to depress me sometimes. I felt so left out.
“As my family became more and more famous, their pace of life continued to increase. They were coming and going constantly. The phone was always ringing. People were always stopping by the house. Not being able to hear, I depend on lip reading a lot to understand what is going on. With everyone in such a hurry and things always happening so quickly, it got to where I couldn’t keep up with it all.
“I’d get frustrated. I’d yell at one of my family, stop them from their busy responsibilities, and insist they take time to tell me what was going on. They tried so hard to keep me informed, but it was impossible. The more popular they became, the more I began to realize that our lives were headed down two different roads. I found I was no longer content being just one of the other Osmond brothers. I wanted to be known as myself, liked for myself. I wanted to be me!
“But who was I? This soul-searching led to a question that arose in my mind time and time again: ‘Who am I, really, and why am I deaf?’
“I learned from my mother and father’s teachings that I am a child of God, that my Father in heaven loves me and will hear and answer my prayers.
“At first, faithfully believing but misunderstanding this, I fasted and prayed often that I would be healed from my infirmity so that I could be famous with my brothers. When my miracle didn’t come, again I asked why?
“Once my father said to me there was no question in life that could not be answered in the scriptures. And so I began to search them for some clue to who I really was, why I was here on this earth in this condition, and what my purpose in life was to be.
“I rambled through the pages of holy writ, reading here a verse and there a verse until one day I came across John 9:1–3:
“‘And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth.
“‘And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?’
“Then Christ’s answer, like the thunder from heaven, hit me deep inside as I read:
“‘Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.’
“That’s when it finally came to me. I was an individual. I had God-given talents. And even though I couldn’t be a singer like the rest of my family, I still had something major to contribute with my life. I realized I had to stop pouting over my weaknesses. I needed to discover those talents, develop them, and use them to achieve my own success.
“I knew from the beginning it wasn’t going to be easy. But I found comfort in the words of the apostle Paul who suffered from his own problem, which he called a thorn in the flesh. He was told by the Lord that ‘strength is made perfect in weakness.’ (2 Cor. 12:9.) Paul said he took pleasure in his infirmities for ‘when I am weak, then am I strong.’ (2 Cor. 12:10.)
“I was determined I was going to make my own success in life. I wondered if there had ever been any handicapped persons who had. So I decided to do a little research.
“I discovered that about one out of every seven persons in the world has some kind of disability. I found out that there are about 25 million handicapped persons in the United States alone. But only about 10 million of them have the kind of handicaps that could keep them from leading normal, useful lives.
“With further study, I learned that there have been a lot of famous people in the world who have overcome handicaps to achieve success and make major contributions to mankind. For instance, Franklin D. Roosevelt was crippled by polio at the age of 39. He never walked again without braces or other artificial aids. Yet, Roosevelt became the only president of the United States ever elected four times.
“Helen Keller conquered not one, but three physical handicaps. She became blind, deaf, and mute before she was two years old. But she learned to read, write, and speak. She devoted her life to helping the blind and the deaf.
“Clarence Shepherd Day, Jr., was a famous American author. After the Spanish-American War, he suffered from arthritis and had to stay in bed for the rest of his life. But he did not let this interfere with his writing. He wrote the ironic and humorous books Life with Father and Life with Mother.
“Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Jose Feliciano, and Sammy Davis, Jr., are four individuals who partially or completely lost their eye sight, but they became famous actors and musicians.
“Handicapped persons have made great contributions to literature, music, and art. Lord Byron had a club foot, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning was an invalid. Each wrote some of the world’s finest poetry. After John Milton became blind, he wrote Paradise Lost, one of the world’s greatest epic poems. After Ludwig Von Beethoven became deaf, he composed some of his best-known music. Alec Templeton and George Shearing, both born blind, gained fame as outstanding popular pianists.
“Francisco Goya, the noted painter, was deaf. Actress Sarah Bernhardt held audiences spellbound even after losing a leg. Winston Churchill overcame stuttering to become one of the world’s most eloquent speakers.
“Many athletes have become champions in spite of handicaps. When Glen Cunningham was eight years old, his legs were scarred to the bone in a schoolhouse fire. Yet he became a great track star. Golfer Ben Hogan, injured in an automobile accident, was told he might never walk again. Four years later he won three of the world’s top golf tournaments. Two baseball stars, Grover Cleveland Alexander and Tony Lazzeri, had epilepsy. John Belmonte, the famous bullfighter, had a twisted and deformed body.
“In every case these people overcame a serious handicap to become noted in their fields. And there were hundreds more who were not so famous but who hurdled the insurmountable odds of their own handicaps to achieve personal success.
“After studying these cases, I found I could admit it without frustration: I had a physical handicap. And finally I accepted it and began to work hard each day to overcome its limitations and use the talents I did have to achieve success.
“My handicap became a blessing to me. It strengthened me as I learned to overcome my difficulties. I learned that I must work harder at everything I do because of my deafness. Even the simple task of speaking and expressing myself was a challenge.
“Have you ever thought of how difficult it would be to learn to talk if you could not hear the sounds of the words? It’s not easy, and it takes many hours of practice and patience. I am very grateful to my wonderful family for all the encouragement and assistance they have given me in helping me to improve my speech. I had to learn to be humble so that I could readily accept their criticism and correction.
“But in my struggles I have learned that there are more than just physical handicaps. There are handicaps of attitudes also that hold back far more people from success than the physical kind. Many individuals believe they can never achieve success, so they never try. Some even preprogram themselves to fail before they ever start.
“Against the discouragement of many who said it was impossible, I taught myself to play the piano, drums, and saxophone, and I learned how to tap dance for my own enjoyment and amusement and other people’s amazement. I conquered the skills of printing and the techniques of photography and turned them into a successful business that now provides me my livelihood.
“I learned to love people and wanted to associate with them and share my story with others so that they might learn and grow from my experiences. To do this, I started giving lectures and writing. In each case these things were and still are difficult to accomplish. But my life now has new purpose and meaning because I had the courage to try and be what I wanted to be. Through these efforts I am beginning to discover the real me.
“My parents always taught me, ‘Prepare yourself and the opportunity will come.’ John A. Widtsoe said, ‘Decide what you want to be, pay the price, and be what you want to be.’
“For those of us who are physically handicapped, the price is a little higher, but our goals can be accomplished. No one should let a disability hold him back or make him think he cannot achieve.
“Whenever the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. Every weakness has its compensating strength. The Lord gives us this comforting promise in Ether 12:27:
“‘I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.’
“As I said, there are more than just physical weaknesses. Bad habits are weaknesses, too, and hold us back just as much as the physical ones. The love of money, lust, greed, envy, covetousness, dishonesty, criticism, unfair judgment, gossip, name calling—all are weaknesses that keep us from achieving and growing spiritually as well as temporally. Yet the Lord promises in this verse from the Book of Mormon, that if we will humble ourselves before him and seek his help, he will assist us in turning these failings into strengths.
“Impossible you may say? No, it is not. The Osmond family motto comes from Proverbs 3:5–6: [Prov. 3:5–6]
“‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“‘In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’
“I’m grateful we chose that for our motto. It’s been a strength for me in my life. It’s helped me to realize that there is no handicap in the world that can keep a person from achieving some measure of success if he or she will just keep trying, place his trust in the Lord, and never allow himself to get discouraged by self pity.
“I am often asked what advice I would give other handicapped people, and this is what I answer, although really, it applies to everyone:
“Meet with faith each challenge that comes to you. Have courage and don’t give up, no matter what your difficulties. Be independent and self-reliant. Educate yourself. Overcome selfishness and self-pity by dedicating your life to the service of others. And last, discover your talents and use them!”

When they visited Adam-ondi-Ahman in Missouri, the Kikuchis visited with the nine missionary couples who were working there. They asked Elder Kikuchi to hold a fireside that night. In the meeting, after telling them of his boyhood hatred for Americans, he said, “But because I found my beautiful Savior through the work of humble missionaries who taught me about pre-earth life, I discovered that I am truly one of Heavenly Father’s sons. My perception totally changed. My values and my understanding of the meaning of life have changed because of the gospel. There is a purpose in life, and we have the light of the gospel, the spirit of the Lord, the power of God to obtain necessary ordinances, the love of God, and the great hope to live again and to meet God.
“I’m grateful, in a way, that my father didn’t survive the bombing, because if he had, I probably wouldn’t have been able to join the Church. My life would have taken a much different course. Where I was born and raised, there was no LDS church, and even now there is no chapel. I would have become a regular student in high school and college. And I may not have been humble enough to accept the gospel if I heard it.”
Elder Kikuchi then told the missionary couples that “I am so grateful, so thankful that you raised sons and daughters to serve as missionaries. Your sons came to my door. You may say, ‘My son didn’t go to Japan.’ But he came to my door because you prayed for all the missionaries, and some missionaries came and brought joy to my heart. Because you raised your sons and daughters and sent them on missions, many hearts were touched by them in Japan, in the Philippines, in Switzerland, in Germany, in Hawaii, and elsewhere. It did actually happen that a missionary from Idaho and a missionary from Salt Lake City knocked at my door. I know that God lives and that Jesus is the Christ and that this Church is true.”

When Daniel’s daughter turned eight, he knew she would want to share her baptism day with friends who were not members of the Church. So their family decided to extend invitations for Allison’s baptism to friends from school and the neighborhood. These friends were asked to bring favorite Bible verses to the baptism. After the baptism, Allison underlined the verses in her new set of scriptures and wrote her friends’ names in the margins.
“Of course, as her family, we were very involved in that day. But we also let her just be with friends a while afterward and talk to them about what she felt,” Daniel said. “It was a really tender moment to see our child set an example.”

In the front window of the little grocery section of the Murdock service station in Beaver, Utah, was a poster advertising a big candy bar broken open with chocolate and nuts and filling, sending out a message the advertiser had intended. The candy bar was called Chicken Dinner. Every day I passed this window four times—twice going to school and twice coming home.
We had no money to purchase such luxuries in our home, but the gnawing desire to eat one of those candy bars kept building up in me.
Late one afternoon, my mother sent me to the store to purchase a loaf of bread for supper (one of the rare times in my young life to get store-bought bread). I had a quarter and purchased the bread for a dime.
As Mrs. Murdock gave me the 15 cents change I was staring at the back side of that candy bar poster—knowing every detail that was on the front, as I had studied it so many times.
The candy rack was to the side of the counter and open. I looked around the little store; no one else was in there at the time. I was very nervous, for I was going to be dishonest. I had made my plan, and I executed it by shoving the dime back across the counter and blurting out in a strained voice, “I’d like two Chicken Dinner bars,” and pointed to them as I put the nickel in my pocket. I don’t know why I bought two. I guess I was so nervous I didn’t really know what I was doing, and the two nickel candy bars added up to the dime I had in my hand at the time.
“Help yourself,” she said with a look and sound of questioning in her voice, like it wasn’t right for a Hutchings kid to blow a whole dime on two candy bars.
I was shaking as I reached over and took two bars and slid them in my pocket. She thanked me and I left.
I walked very fast to get around the corner before anyone saw me and I could get to where I could eat one of those candy bars. I don’t know why I didn’t want anyone to see me.
I slipped around behind Harry Deal’s electric shop, where I would be alone, and started eating one of the bars. It tasted all right, but it didn’t go down very well. Maybe I was eating it too fast since I was so hungry for candy.
Having finished the first one behind the shed, I must have felt a little braver and walked out from behind the electric shop and down the sidewalk eating the other. I walked slowly so I could finish it well before I covered the three blocks to home. Besides, I needed time to plan how to account for one missing dime.
I dropped the bread on the kitchen table and headed out of the room trying not to have eye-to-eye contact with my mother, thinking maybe she would have too much on her mind to think about wanting 15 cents change.
“Don, thanks for getting the bread. Where is the change?”
I fumbled in my pocket, pulled the nickel out, and put it on the table, pretending to search the rest of my pockets with such suggestions as, “I wonder if I lost it” or “Did Mrs. Murdock put the dime in the wrapper when she wrapped the bread?” (That last suggestion must have given my mother a clue that something was wrong.)
“Did she give you the right change?” my mother asked.
“Yes, I remember her giving me the 15 cents,” I said as my mother was reaching for the telephone to call the store.
“Then you lost it?” my mother asked with a tone in her voice of doubting. “Let’s go look for the dime,” she said as she picked up her sweater and headed out the door.
We backtracked the route and looked on both sides of the sidewalk. All the time, I was trying to call off this excursion, but my mother was locked in on getting to the bottom of the missing dime and would have no part of giving up until she found out just where that dime was.
I said a silent prayer, asking the Lord to produce me one little thin dime to get the pressure off. I had found a quarter once along that same sidewalk, and I knew that the Lord could produce a little dime now. I reinforced my petition by telling him I would never do anything like that again if he would come to my aid.
The voice inside of me seemed pretty loud, “No, Don!” I was getting desperate as we had worked our way now past Harry Deal’s electric shop and close to the store. I knew what the conversation would bring once my mother and Mrs. Murdock got together.
Oh, how thankful I am for a mother that would follow up and help a boy learn a lesson he needed so badly. I’m sure as anything that my mother knew just about what had happened before we left the house to look for the lost dime, but in her wisdom she knew a teaching moment when she saw one. I don’t think she knew, though, the torment that was exploding inside a little boy who realized he was about to get caught in a big lie.
As we stood outside the Murdock store, I told my mother, with tears running down my face, what I had done, right in front of that big poster of a Chicken Dinner bar.
My mother stood there, I’m sure with her heart aching, as she confessed to part of the blame by being so limited with money that she could not give her children some of the things she would like to, especially when it would bring one of her children to lying and stealing.
“Don, I brought the other nickel, and I would like you to go in and buy another of those bars, just to have to eat when you want it and to know that you do not have to steal anymore. Next time you come and ask, and we will find some way to buy it, the right way.”

Seven-year-old Íngrid Fabiola Martínez Barredo knows something about temples. When she was five years old, she and her parents were sealed as an eternal family in the México City México Temple. The trip took eighteen hours each way on a bus crowded with members from their ward and stake. Like many members in Tuxtla Gutiérrez, she is thankful to have a temple just minutes away in her own city now.
Even though the long trip to the temple was uncomfortable, Íngrid and the other Primary children accompanying their parents to the temple did their best to make it pleasant. “They sang their favorite hymns and songs on the way, such as ‘Count Your Blessings’ and ‘I Am a Child of God,’”* her dad, Javier, said. Several members on the bus thanked the children for helping make the trip more enjoyable.

To illustrate, I think I would like to share with you one of my failures. I suppose some people think I have never experienced failure. I have. Let me tell you of one such instance.
Sixty-three years ago, while serving as a missionary in the British Isles, my companion and I taught, and it was my pleasure to baptize, a young man. He was well educated. He was refined. He was studious. I was so proud of this gifted young man who had come into the Church. I felt he had all of the qualifications someday to become a leader among our people.
He was in the course of making the big adjustment from convert to member. For a short period before I was released, mine was the opportunity to be his friend. Then I was released to return home. He was given a small responsibility in the branch in London. He knew nothing of what was expected of him. He made a mistake. The head of the organization where he served was a man I can best describe as being short on love and strong on criticism. In a rather unmerciful way, he went after my friend who had made the simple mistake.
The young man left our rented hall that night smarting and hurt by his superior officer. He said to himself, “If that is the kind of people they are, then I am not going back.”
He drifted into inactivity. The years passed. The war came on, and he served in the British forces. His first wife died. After the war he married a woman whose father was a Protestant minister. That did not help his belief.
When I was in England, I tried desperately to find him. His file contained no record of a current address. I came home and finally, after a long search, was able to track him down.
I wrote to him. He responded but with no mention of the gospel.
When next I was in London, I again searched for him. The day I was to leave, I found him. I called him, and we met in the underground station. He threw his arms around me as I did around him. I had very little time before I had to catch my plane, but we talked briefly and with what I think was a true regard for one another. He gave me another embrace before I left. I determined that I would never lose track of him again. Through the years I wrote to him, letters that I hoped would give encouragement and incentive to return to the Church. He wrote in reply without mentioning the Church.
The years passed. I grew older as did he. He retired from his work and moved to Switzerland. On one occasion when I was in Switzerland, I went out of my way to find the village where he lived. We spent the better part of a day together—he, his wife, my wife, and myself. We had a wonderful time, but it was evident that the fire of faith had long since died. I tried every way I knew, but I could not find a way to rekindle it. I continued my correspondence. I sent him books, magazines, recordings of the Tabernacle Choir, and other things, for which he expressed appreciation.
He died a few months ago. His wife wrote me to inform me of this. She said, “You were the best friend he ever had.”
Tears coursed my cheeks when I read that letter. I knew I had failed. Perhaps if I had been there to pick him up when he was first knocked down, he might have made a different thing of his life. I think I could have helped him then. I think I could have dressed the wound from which he suffered. I have only one comfort: I tried. I have only one sorrow: I failed.

On the many occasions “when death invaded his home, … and his little ones were taken from him, he grieved with a broken heart and mourned, not as those mourn who live without hope, but for the loss of his ‘precious jewels.’”18 On 6 July 1879 President Smith expressed grief in his journal over his daughter Rhoda’s death: “I took her on a pillow and walked the floor with her, she again revived but only lingered about an hour and died in my arms at 1:40 A.M. Now God only knows how deeply we mourn. This is the 5th death in my family. All my little ones most beloved! O! God help us to bear this trial!”19

Later I found out.
The twenty-year-old emergency paramedic driving the ambulance had his hands full. What was he to do with a three-year-old girl who was frightened and crying? Her parents were both injured, her mother critically. What could he say or do to calm this child?
Maybe a song would help, he thought. But he couldn’t recall any children’s songs—except one. It was a Sunday School song he had just learned in the church he had only recently joined. There was no reason this little girl would recognize it or take comfort in it. But the impression that he should sing grew stronger, so he began: “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here …”
The little girl grew quiet and after a verse began to sing with him, “I am a child of God, and so my needs are great …”
At the end of the second verse he asked softly, “Are you a Latter-day Saint?”
She replied, “Yes.”
“Are your mommy and daddy?”
“Yes.”
He reached for the radio transmitter. “This is rescue calling base. Hi, Beth. Would you do me a favor? Look up the number of a Bishop Brower in the phone book and give him a call. We have a critically injured woman coming in who’s a member of his church and we need …”
So the bishop received the message, and priesthood holders were at the hospital within minutes.
A year later we attended the missionary farewell of the young paramedic who helped save Gaydra’s life.

Sometimes beautiful things happen that just can’t be explained other than to say, “the Lord’s hand was in it.” That’s the only way to describe what happened at the temple in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, on 14 March 2024.
“To God be the glory!” exclaimed Sister Harlaine Odia with tears of joy when Sister Janeen Redd showed her this picture and told the story of what happened that day:
Sister Harlaine and Sister Redd see this picture as evidence that the hand of the Lord is guiding the work they both are doing in the office of the Church’s Africa Central Area in Nairobi, Kenya.
Sister Harlaine is the area planning manager. Sister Redd is a senior missionary who is working with Sister Harlaine and a team of two other senior sister missionaries in the Area Office. The team of sisters is working to provide the benefits of the Church’s General Temple Patron Assistance Fund to members of the Church in the Africa Central Area. The fund provides financial assistance for travel, food, and lodging to members so they can receive their temple blessings in temples located far from their homes. Currently, the only operating temple within the Africa Central Area is in Kinshasa.
Additional temples are under construction in Lubumbashi, DRC, and in Nairobi, Kenya. Others have been announced to be built in Kananga, DRC; Mbuji-Mayi, DRC; and Brazzaville, Republic of Congo.
So, who is in the picture and why is it so significant to the two sisters?
The picture shows newlyweds Nicole Bukasa and Ezi Kalenda standing outside the Kinshasa Democratic Republic of the Congo Temple joyfully awaiting their sealing in the temple that day. They had traveled to the temple with their newlywed friends Tresor Tshilombo and his wife, Naomie Mukadi, from the remote town of Luputa, DRC—a distance of 1,470 kilometers from the temple—which they had traveled by a four-hour bus ride to the airport in Mbuji-Mayi and then a flight from Mbuji-Mayi to Kinshasa.
Sister Redd had traveled to Kinshasa from Nairobi with her husband, Elder Jeffrey Redd (who serves as associate area legal counsel in the Office of General Counsel for the Africa Central Area) along with David Stanford (area legal counsel) and his wife, Marie-Laure, for some meetings. While in Kinshasa they planned to worship in the temple. As the Redds and Stanfords arrived at the temple, a simple exchange of greetings turned into a conversation in which the Redds and the Stanfords were invited to act as witnesses for the sealings of these two newlywed couples.
Ezi, Tresor, and Naomie had served as missionaries in the Kinshasa DRC West Mission under the leadership of Francois M. Mukubu. President Mukubu is now the president of the Kinshasa temple, and it is he who performed the sealing ordinance for the two couples.
After asking a few questions, Sister Redd discovered that it was her team in Nairobi that had processed these two couples’ applications to participate in the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund just a few weeks before she unexpectedly met them in person half a continent away at the temple in Kinshasa. No one who knows this story believes that it is just a coincidence that the Redds and the Stanfords walked onto the temple grounds at the exact moment necessary to make the connection with the two previously unknown-to-them newlywed couples, a connection that resulted from saying “bonjour.”
The hand of the Lord is guiding His work. Many more members of the Church will be blessed to receive temple blessings and to make covenants with God in His holy house as beneficiaries of the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund.
And Nicole and Ezi’s son, who is expected to be born in May, will be born in the covenant.
As Sister Harlaine exclaimed, when she saw the photograph, “To God be the glory!”
Members who are interested in learning more about the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund can contact their bishop or branch president.

Years ago, when I was serving in Primary, I was telling a story about someone who had been recently baptized. I pointed out that this friend might be one of the most pure and clean members of the Church. Then, on the front row, a hand shot up and an older boy declared, “I can be just as clean as he is because I’ve been baptized and take the sacrament.” I awkwardly answered, “Yes, that’s what I meant—what he said.”

Always there are preparations made for rain. Some years it rains so hard that the small individual tents cannot stay up. The previous year everyone had to crowd together under one of the big pavilion tents set up for the crafts and programs. It was the only shelter left standing. But what could have been miserable turned out to be fun.
“I didn’t want it to rain but then again I did. Being crowded together under one big tent was a bond among us last year. We had the same bond this year without the rain.” Tisha Perry

My wife, Nancy, is also a convert to the Church. She has mentioned to me many times over the years the joy she has felt in her life since finding, accepting, and living the gospel of Jesus Christ. What follows is a reflection from Sister Maynes on her experience:

“As a young adult in my early 20s, I was at a point in my life when I knew I needed to change something in order to be a happier person. I felt like I was adrift with no real purpose and direction, and I didn’t know where to go to find it. I had always known that Heavenly Father existed and occasionally throughout my life had said prayers, feeling that He listened.

“As I began my search, I attended several different churches but would always fall back into the same feelings and discouragement. I feel very blessed because my prayer for direction and purpose in life was ultimately answered, and the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ was brought into my life. For the first time I felt like I had a purpose, and the plan of happiness brought real joy into my life.”

I had been on my mission only a few weeks when I was awakened in the middle of the night by a rumbling sound. It started in the distance and grew louder as it approached. Soon our entire house was shaking. Fairly quickly the pounding ceased, and the roaring sound faded. Fortunately my companion had warned me that earthquakes were common. Since everything seemed fine, I rolled over and soon went back to sleep.
Several weeks after my middle-of-the-night wake-up, I heard people talking about an earthquake earlier that morning. I wondered what was wrong with them, since I hadn’t heard or felt anything. Confused, I finally asked when the “earthquake” had occurred. Realizing that I was exercising or showering at the time mentioned, I couldn’t believe it had really happened. The first earthquake had woken me up, so surely if there had been another when I was awake, I would have noticed.
But this was just the first of many supposed earthquakes. I never felt them, so I wondered if people were confused as to what an earthquake was like.
After eight months of what I thought were pretend earthquakes, my Sunday School teacher paused midsentence to say, “Feel that? There was an earthquake.” Everyone nodded in agreement—except me. I didn’t understand. There was no rumble or roar. My chair didn’t shake. The walls didn’t rattle. How could there have been an earthquake?
Then I tried to remember what I had felt when the teacher mentioned the earthquake. It was an ever-so-slight dizziness—almost as if I had just spun around. Could that subtle feeling be an earthquake?
Because of my teacher, I started to be aware and to know that the supposed earthquakes were real. I realized that I hadn’t felt them when I was exercising or showering or sleeping because they were just a subtle shake. But gradually I became more aware of a dizzy feeling or a slight sway, recognizing it as evidence of an earthquake.

In 2014, while serving a full-time mission, our family experienced an unexpected turn of events. When riding down a steep hill on a longboard, our youngest son fell and sustained a life-threatening injury to his brain. As his situation deteriorated, medical personnel rushed him into emergency surgery.

Our family knelt on the floor of an otherwise empty hospital room, and we poured our hearts out to God. In the midst of this confusing and painful moment, we were filled with our Heavenly Father’s love and peace.

We did not know what the future held or if we would see our son alive again. We did know very clearly that his life was in God’s hands and the results, from an eternal perspective, would work out for his and our good. Through the gift of the Spirit, we were fully prepared to accept any outcome.

It was not easy! The accident resulted in a two-month hospital stay while we were presiding over 400 full-time missionaries. Our son experienced a significant loss of memory. His recovery included long and difficult physical, speech, and occupational therapy sessions. Challenges remain, but over time we have witnessed a miracle.

One day after having a good time cracking jokes at the expense of one of my closest friends, I began to feel guilty. It had seemed so harmless at the time. I tried to fight off my guilty feelings by telling myself, It was just a joke. She needs to lighten up. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that was all it ever was with me—a joke.
I couldn’t help but think back to how I had been acting. It had taken me a while to notice, even though others had told me, “You used to be so nice to everyone.” A few had even said, “I remember when you used to never say anything rude about anyone.” At the time I hadn’t thought much of what they were telling me. I just thought it was their problem if they didn’t like it.
But I really had changed, and it all began with a few harmless jokes. I had always loved to make people laugh, so when people began to tell me how funny I was or ask me how I could come up with such funny things, I naturally loved it. I figured if they liked how funny I was then, they would love it when I really started cracking jokes.
For a while I was right. But soon I was going overboard and taking two of my best friends with me. People began to feel insecure when they were around me. They were always very uncomfortable. I was even told by a boy who had been one of my good friends the year before that it seemed like I was thriving on making people mad. I don’t see how people like my close friends could have stuck by me. I guess I was just one lucky girl.
I decided that maybe I should kneel down and pray about what I was doing. I now had a habit that seemed impossible to break. I prayed wholeheartedly, but when an answer didn’t come immediately I began to doubt the Lord would help me. I remembered that sometimes it just takes patience, so I decided to continue praying until I received an answer.
After a week of prayer both morning and night, I was nearly ready to give up. One day after I finished praying, I propped my head up against the headboard and reached for my scriptures. I closed my eyes for a moment. I was feeling miserable, and I couldn’t help thinking about the story in the scriptures that taught if you wasted your talents you would lose them (see Matt. 25:15–30).
All of a sudden an answer came to me. If I could get in the habit of doing bad deeds, I could definitely work on doing good deeds until soon I wouldn’t have to think about doing good. It would just come naturally. I knew it wouldn’t be easy at first, but it was definitely a skill I needed.
I prayed for Heavenly Father to be with me. I began to plan service projects, volunteer for charities, and do many other positive things. It’s been a year since I started. I’m not yet to the point where I would like to be, and it’s not always easy for me to control what I say. But I’m getting there.
Old habits do die hard. But now I’m working to develop a new, better habit that I hope will be around for a long time.

When the Book of Mormon was published, Martin Harris was nearly 47 years of age, more than 20 years older than Joseph Smith and the other two witnesses. He was a prosperous and respected citizen of Palmyra, New York. He owned a farm of over 240 acres, large for the time and place. He was an honored veteran of two battles in the War of 1812. His fellow citizens entrusted him with many elective offices and responsibilities in the community. He was universally respected for his industry and integrity. Assessments by contemporaries described him as “an industrious, hard-working farmer, shrewd in his business calculations, frugal in his habits,” and “strictly upright in his business dealings” (quoted in Richard Lloyd Anderson, Investigating the Book of Mormon Witnesses [1981], 96–97, 98).
This prosperous and upright older man befriended the young and penniless Joseph Smith, giving him the $50 that permitted him to pay his debts in Palmyra and locate in northeastern Pennsylvania, about 150 miles away. There, in April 1828, Joseph Smith began his first persistent translation of the Book of Mormon. He dictated, and Martin Harris wrote until there were 116 pages of manuscript.
Martin’s persistent requests to show this manuscript to his family wearied Joseph into letting him take it to Palmyra, where its pages were stolen from him, lost, and probably burned. For this the Lord rebuked Martin and Joseph. Joseph had his gift of translation suspended for a season, and Martin was rebuked as “a wicked man” who had “set at naught the counsels of God, and … broken the most sacred promises which were made before God” (D&C 3:12–13; see also D&C 10). Fortunately, both Joseph and Martin were later forgiven by the Lord, and the work of translation resumed with other scribes. We obviously honor Joseph for his magnificent ministry, but Martin’s subsequent faithfulness continues under a shadow from which this important man should be rescued.