Gospel Story Finder

A bishop, no matter how skilled in administrative matters, must be a friend to children, youth, and adults if he is to help them reach their spiritual potential. I was touched once when a young woman I knew went to her bishop to confess a serious transgression. She had been worried about how the bishop might react to her deviation from the gospel path and had only gone to him after considerable urging. When I asked her afterward what his response had been, she told me with great emotion that her bishop had wept with her and that in working with him to gain the Lord’s forgiveness, she now considered her bishop to be one of her best friends.

I should like to discuss for a moment the enormous influence which missionary work has had on my own life. My parents, who grew up in Mexico, had not served missions prior to their marriage. But when a call came to the seventies quorum to which my father belonged for a volunteer to serve a short-term mission, he went, even though it meant leaving a farm and a large family of small children for his wife to care for. She welcomed that opportunity to sacrifice for Church and family, and I well remember how heroically she bore her burdens during those difficult winter months.

Later, during the long, cruel years of the Great Depression, even though my parents suffered severe financial hardship, they always kept one of their children in the mission field.

My father passed away at a relatively young age, and after he was gone and we children had married, my mother asked for, and was given, permission to serve a mission in Mexico.

If there is honor attached to my call to the First Quorum of the Seventy, and indeed there is, it goes not to me, but to those whose examples of sacrifice and dedication have influenced my life so greatly. I pay tribute to them for their tireless and unceasing devotion to the Church and to their family. They have wielded an immense influence upon their ten children and their other numerous posterity.

A recent example of perseverance occurred in Kasungu, Malawi. Having heard about the Church during his theological studies, Weston Kapasule yearned to learn more about the Savior’s gospel, but in 2013, missionaries had not yet been assigned to his rural town. Weston was undeterred, however. He found and repaired an old computer, connected it to the internet, and, using social media, contacted sister missionaries serving in the Utah Salt Lake City Temple Square Mission. For the next seven years, Weston was taught online by a variety of missionaries, who were joined by Amram Musungu, a native Kenyan and avid member missionary now living in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. During that time, as mission presidents of the Zambia Lusaka Mission learned about Weston’s desire to have the gospel in his life, they sent senior missionaries to minister to him and to deliver copies of the Book of Mormon, lesson manuals and other materials.

But the time was not right for him to be baptized. Kasungu lies far from Blantyre or Lilongwe, the two areas where the Church was organized in Malawi and starting to build a strong foundation of branches. These population centers, known as centers of strength, are important to develop before the Church can be taken to outlying areas. This pattern of building the Church from centers of strength ensures strong leadership and a foundation of enduring support for members and new converts. Once centers of strength are well established, in the Lord’s timing, additional branches of the Church, such as now formed in Kasungu, may be organized.

As Weston gained a firm testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, persevered in continually learning more, and waited patiently for baptism and the Church organization to reach Kasungu, he shared what he had learned with his family and with others—who brought still others into the Kasungu fold. The first resident missionaries were finally authorized in late 2019 and, after persevering in patience for years, members of the Kasungu group began to be baptized on the first day of February 2020. Weston was one of the first to enter the waters of baptism. He was joined by over one hundred others.

Was persevering difficult for Weston and those in Kasungu seeking the blessings of the Lord’s Church? Absolutely. But the challenges did not stop them from seeking and learning the Savior’s gospel or from developing their own testimonies.

“I think God’s grace was there for us,” said Weston. “We should not refrain from this truth and go back where we came from. This is exactly what made ourselves today to be who we are and what we are. So, I persevered. . . . I know that God wanted [us] to go through that process for us to be what we are today.”

Today, there is a branch of the Church in Kasungu and joy abounds.

Many years ago during the summer of 1930, when I was 13 years of age, I was with a group of Boy Scouts hiking from Camp Logan to Camp Kiesel on the South Fork of the Ogden River. We had hiked over the Randolph Divide and made our camp at the base of Monte Cristo, where the chief Scout executive of the Ogden Council, S. Dilworth Young, joined us. He was a strong, vigorous man and stood tall and straight. I was soon to learn that he stood tall in many ways and that he exemplified the Scout Oath and the Scout Law.
It was on the afternoon of a beautiful summer day in August, and we had arrived at Monte Cristo a little early. We were busy at our camps making our fires and getting ready for the evening meal. S. Dilworth Young visited each group of boys at their campfires. When he came to our group, he asked us various questions to see how we were faring. One of his questions was most pointed and direct. He asked, “Did you put your fire out at your last campsite?” He then proceeded to tell us how that fire should have been put out. He directed his question to each of the boys in our patrol.
Most of the boys had apparently followed the directions for putting out their fires pretty well, but in my heart I knew that I had not put out my fire as he had specified. I was hoping that he would skip me in the questioning process, but he didn’t. He asked me the question, and I responded, “No sir, I did not put out the fire the way you described.” He then said, “Get your things packed. You and I are going back. We are going to put out that fire.” I said, “Well, it won’t be burning. It was almost out when we left.” He responded, “Well, we are going to make sure, anyway. As Boy Scouts, we are trusted not only to take care of our personal lives, but also to take care of our responsibilities to this beautiful earth and the land in which we live.”
I have never forgotten those words. Right then and there, I knew that S. Dilworth Young was a leader of boys and men. I also knew that he loved nature and that his highest goal in life was to be trusted.
He put on his pack and helped me with mine, and then we both took off back down the trail to our last campsite, which we had left early that morning. We arrived there late at night. He seemed to know right where it was. We came to the place where all of us had camped, and there were various campfire spots with logs that were still smoldering. He had a small bucket that he had brought with him. We found the stream nearby and carried water to the smoldering logs. Then, after each spark had been put out, we covered the logs and the campfire sites with damp earth.
By that time, it was too late to go back to Monte Cristo, so we slept in our sleeping bags there that night, and then we ate breakfast and proceeded back to Monte Cristo the next morning. About halfway back, I was so tired and my muscles ached so badly that it seemed I could go no farther. He took my pack, put it on his back with his own, and helped me the rest of the way into camp. Sometimes I was on his back also as we crossed a rough part of the terrain, or a stream, or some deep brush.
That day I really learned the beauty and the value of the Scout Oath and the Scout Law. Here was a leader who stood tall in my youthful eyes and taught me by example how I should be. He indeed taught me that a leader cannot delegate the power of example.
He also taught me how to trust. A little later in this trip as we approached Camp Kiesel, we came to a fork in the rivers. As I recall, one of the forks was called Bear Wallow Canyon and the other fork was called Wheatgrass. We rested there for a short period. Then S. Dilworth Young announced that there would be a contest to see which pair of Scouts would be the first to arrive at Camp Kiesel. He knew that it would be quite safe. The Scouts would just need to follow the canyons down and they would come into the South Fork of the Ogden River where Camp Kiesel lay.
The boys all chose partners, and I happened to be the only boy left who didn’t have a partner. None of the boys wanted to go with me, it seemed, because they thought that I would hold them back. S. Dilworth Young, seeing me standing there alone, called me over and asked why I didn’t have a partner. I said, “Well, none of the boys wanted me, but I will go alone, and I will beat all of them anyway.” His eyes twinkled, and he whispered some instructions in my ear. He said, “You stay right on top of this ridge, and you follow it all of the way down, never going down into the canyon, and you will get there way ahead of the other boys. The other boys will all head for the canyon and for the stream, and it winds around and around. By staying on the ridge, you will be going the shortest route, and you will get there an hour before any of the boys.”
I looked at him, and I knew that I could trust him. I knew that I wouldn’t get lost if I did what he told me to do. So I stayed on that ridge. Some places it was quite steep, but it was safe. Several hours later, from the last promontory, I could see the roofs of the cabins, the mess hall, and the American flag waving in the trees of Camp Kiesel. I was the first Scout to arrive. I had put my trust in that wonderful leader, and I had arrived safely. Later that night at the campfire, I was given a special award for being honest and for being the first boy to arrive in camp.
I was to come in contact with this great man at other times in my life. On every occasion he inspired me to be trustworthy and honest. I have found that two of the greatest things we can do are, first, to be trusted, and second, to trust.
The Scout Oath stands in my mind as one of the great oaths and covenants that we can make:
“On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country, to obey the Scout Law, to help other people at all times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.”

I know of another young man who recently returned from Vietnam. He told of the close bond of love in his family. He said, “My buddies tried to persuade me to go into Saigon and ‘live it up.’ This went on day after day, but I kept thinking of my family and their influence and the memories of our family home evenings and of my patriarchal blessing. It seemed to give me the courage I needed to resist them.”
He then said, “I got out my blessing and read it and reread it. It promised me a temple marriage if I was worthy. After a while, my buddies were impressed with my conviction. They started to respect me and then wanted to know more.”

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

It was finally here. My favorite time of the summer: Young Women camp. I was super excited because I was bringing my best friend, who was of another faith.

A few weeks earlier I had started bringing my friend to Mutual. She enjoyed the first activity and wanted to keep coming back. The other girls and I talked a lot about Young Women camp, so when it was almost time for camp, she asked if she could come. I said yes, of course, but the problem was convincing her parents. They weren’t keen on the Mormon religion and had denied her going with me to church before.

I went over to their house to bring the papers for camp and talked to her parents about letting her come, but I wasn’t sure they would let her go. That night I prayed earnestly to Heavenly Father that her parents’ hearts would be softened. I called back the next day and they had agreed to let her go!

I was glad my friend was coming to camp but nervous at the same time. I was scared that she would feel out of place when we played gospel-oriented games or sang hymns around the campfire. I was also scared because I felt like my friend didn’t really care for religion. I spent a lot of time praying that things would all go well at camp.

It turned out that I hadn’t needed to worry. All of us, including my friend, had fun playing games, hiking, and laughing. It was the night hike and testimony meeting, however, that were my favorite parts of camp.

It was stake camp, and every ward had their own campsite. For the night hike, the girls were separated into several groups and then each group took turns going from one campsite to another, where they had different speakers talk on women who had “lived as they believed” (that year’s camp theme). As we sat around the campfires and listened to the different speakers talk about courageous women, we felt the Spirit so strongly.

I glanced from time to time at my friend but couldn’t read her expression and couldn’t tell if she was paying attention to anything the speakers said. As we neared the end of the night hike however, my friend turned to me and the first words out of her mouth touched me deeply.

“I’m going to camp every year.”

I smiled and silently thanked Heavenly Father that my friend had been able to feel the Spirit. She had enjoyed the games and having fun, but she had felt the Spirit, and it was what made her want to come back again.

The next night was our last night at camp and our testimony meeting. My friend was confused as to what a testimony was so I quickly explained as best I could. She didn’t look too excited. After the opening prayer, the bishop and several young women bore beautiful testimonies and the Spirit was very strong.

My friend, who never liked to talk in public, stood up to share her feelings. She explained that even though she was of a different religion, watching us girls read our scriptures and pray had touched her. She said that after being here at camp, she wanted to start being a better person and was going to try to be nicer to her family. She also said that coming to camp was probably the best decision she had ever made. She sat down and I glanced over at her and saw there were tears in her eyes. I had never seen her become emotional or cry, but the Spirit of the Lord touched her so deeply it moved her to tears.

This experience at camp taught me a lot about how the Spirit touches the lives of others and about the power of testimonies. The Spirit can speak to everyone regardless of who they are. I now better understand the importance of having a strong testimony and sharing it with others. The gospel can touch the lives of those you would never expect.

Photograph by Randy Collier
Our son, David, would be turning eight in less than a year. My husband and I wanted him to be prepared to make the sacred covenants of baptism. That meant doing things like reading the Book of Mormon, studying the baptismal covenants, and reviewing the baptismal interview questions. We had done all this before with David’s older sister, but David has autism, so deciding if he should be baptized was not as straightforward for us.
Yes, we knew what to do to help him prepare, but looming over all of this preparation were the questions: Should David be baptized? Was he ready? Did he need to be baptized? Did he understand what he would be committing to? How could we know for sure that we were doing the right thing?
Like many parents who have a child with a disability, these questions led us on a journey of seeking doctrinal insights and personal revelation.
Doctrine and Covenants 68:27 reads, “And their children shall be baptized for the remission of their sins when eight years old, and receive the laying on of the hands.”
If we relied solely on this scripture, we would conclude that any eight-year-old is ready to be baptized. However, the scriptures also teach:
“Little children are redeemed … through mine Only Begotten;
“Wherefore, they cannot sin … until they begin to become accountable before me” (Doctrine and Covenants 29:46–47; see also Moroni 8:7–22).
How could my husband and I understand if David was accountable? We continued to search.
We learned from Church policy that the individual’s accountability depends on both his wishes and his level of understanding: if David was worthy and desirous to be baptized and demonstrated that he could be held accountable, we should not withhold baptism from him.
We also learned that if David’s disability limited his intellectual capacity to that of a little child, he would not be held accountable and would not need saving ordinances (see General Handbook: Serving in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 38.2.1.8, ChurchofJesusChrist.org; members who have questions about Church policies can consult with their bishops).
David’s intellectual capacity was actually quite typical. However, I still found myself questioning whether David had reached an appropriate level of accountability. I continued to prayerfully search and hope for direction that would bring me peace.
I know some parents who have a child with a disability who take great comfort from reading that those who pass through mortality without having become accountable retain the status of innocence: “All little children are alive in Christ. … For the power of redemption cometh on all them that have no law; … and unto such baptism availeth nothing” (Moroni 8:22).
The Prophet Joseph Smith also described the condition of children who die and have not become accountable: “And I also beheld that all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven” (Doctrine and Covenants 137:10).
I know that for these individuals, baptism is not necessary in this life. I also knew that God would help us to know what would be best for David.
For those with disabilities, there is a large range of abilities. Many individuals with disabilities are above the mental level of eight years and may be baptized and confirmed if they become accountable (see General Handbook, 38.2.3.5, ChurchofJesusChrist.org). Other individuals will not be accountable. I knew my husband and I could consult with our son, with God, and with our bishop, who stands as a “judge in Israel,” to help make the inspired decision concerning David’s readiness to be baptized (see Doctrine and Covenants 107:76).
These words from Alma brought me great peace: “And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, … what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?” (Mosiah 18:8, 10).
After all of our preparation, all of our lessons at home and in Primary, I started to ask David questions I knew he would be asked in his baptismal interview.
Sometimes his responses demonstrated understanding, but sometimes he didn’t know how to respond. I found myself wondering if we were doing the right thing.
Finally, the Spirit whispered to my heart, “Why don’t you ask David what he thinks?”
I turned to David and asked, “David, do you want to be baptized?”
He looked right up at me and said, “Yes!”
When I asked him why he wanted to be baptized, he said, “To be like Jesus.”
I was overcome with peace and direction. I knew right then that even if David didn’t understand every question perfectly, he was ready to be baptized and confirmed. He knew what he needed to know, and most importantly, he knowingly had a desire to enter God’s kingdom through baptism.
The day David was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was full of love, friendship, and peace. The room was filled with family, ward members, school friends, and even teachers from David’s school. The example David set that day of choosing to follow Jesus and be baptized was an example that influenced many for good. Our family is stronger because we had the opportunity to learn how the works of God would be made manifest through our son, David (see John 9:3).

The first day of his mission, Samuel walked 25 miles (40 km). He visited four homes, but no one wanted to buy a copy of the Book of Mormon. Hungry, tired, and discouraged, he stopped that night at an inn. Samuel asked the innkeeper if he would like to buy a copy of the Book of Mormon.

“I do not know,” said the innkeeper. “How did you get hold of it?”

“It was translated by my brother, from some gold plates that he found buried in the earth,” Samuel explained.

“You liar! Get out of my house—you shan’t stay one minute with your books,” said the innkeeper. So the Church’s first missionary slept that night under an apple tree on the cold, damp ground.3

The desire to help another, the quest for the lost sheep, may not always yield success at once. On occasion progress is slow—even indiscernible. Such was the experience of my longtime friend Gil Warner. He was serving as a newly called bishop when “Douglas,” a member of his ward, transgressed and was deprived of his Church membership. Father was saddened; Mother was totally devastated. Douglas soon thereafter moved from the state. The years hurried by, but Bishop Warner, now a member of a high council, never ceased to wonder what had become of Douglas.
In 1975, I attended the stake conference of the Parleys stake and held a priesthood leadership meeting early on the Sunday morning. I spoke of the Church discipline system and the need to labor earnestly and lovingly to rescue any who had strayed. Gil Warner asked to speak and then outlined the story of Douglas. He concluded with the question, “Who has the responsibility to work with Douglas and bring him back to Church membership?” Gil advised me later that my response to his question was direct and given without hesitation: “It is your responsibility, Gil, for you were his bishop, and he knew you cared.”
Unbeknownst to Gil Warner, Douglas’s mother had, the previous week, fasted and prayed that a man would be raised up to help save her son. Gil discovered this when he felt prompted to call her to report his determination to be of help.
Gil began his odyssey of redemption. Douglas was contacted by him. Old times, happy times, were remembered. Testimony was expressed, love was conveyed, and confidence instilled. The pace was excruciatingly slow. Discouragement frequently entered the scene; but, step by step, Douglas made headway. At long last prayers were answered, efforts rewarded, and victory attained. Douglas was approved for baptism.
The baptismal date was set, family members gathered, and former bishop Gil Warner flew to Seattle for the occasion. Can we appreciate the supreme joy felt by Bishop Warner as he, dressed in white, stood with Douglas in water waist deep and, raising his right arm to the square, repeated those sacred words, “Having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (D&C 20:73).
He that was lost was found. A 26-year mission, marked by love and pursued with determination, had been successfully completed. Gil Warner said to me, “This was one of the greatest days of my life. I know the joy promised by the Lord when He declared, ‘And if it so be that you should labor all your days … and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!’” (D&C 18:15).
Were the Lord to say to Gil Warner today, as He said to Adam’s son long years ago, “Where is Douglas, thy brother?” Bishop Warner could reply, “I am my brother’s keeper, Lord. Behold Douglas, Thy son.”

Sister June Beharrell of Shrewsbury Ward, Newcastle-under-Lyme England Stake, was named in the 2021 New Year’s Honours List and awarded the British Empire Medal for “services to charities”.
The medal was presented at Shrewsbury Castle on 18 May 2021 by the lord lieutenant of Shropshire, on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth ll. (About 300 British Empire Medals are presented every year after considering nominations made by members of the public, who hope to bring recognition to the outstanding service of individuals in their communities.)
After her husband, Gordon, was diagnosed with cancer and died, and following his fundraising efforts, Sister Beharrell and her family continued collecting for the Lingen Davies cancer charity, Severn Hospice (Shropshire), and other charities. Of Gordon she said, “He shouldn’t have been going to the Shrewsbury Market entrance hall to collect money at all, but he told me that if something was going to happen to him, at least he’d be doing something worthwhile”.
In 2009, shortly after Bro Beharrell’s passing, June records. “I was lying in bed feeling sorry for myself, but instead of shedding tears, I thought, ‘I am going to the market on Saturday, and I am going to collect for the Severn Hospice just as Gordon would have done.’”
From 2009, June continued to collect donations in Shrewsbury Market by sitting in the hall entrance from 9 am until 2:30 pm almost every Friday and Saturday, whatever the weather or temperature. In the winter, when the cold wind would blow through the entrance, June would take a rug to keep warm. In 2020, amidst the COVID-19 national lockdown, June was not able to collect in the market, so her family helped her set up an online fundraising account which proved very successful.
Now that things have been returning to normal, June has returned to the market to continue collecting donations. Kate Gittins, Shrewsbury’s market hall manager said: “The market’s customers love her; for some, she has become their confidante, for others, particularly those visiting the market for the first time, she provides a warm welcome with her charming smile and generosity of spirit.” The Shropshire Star reported that “her fundraising over the years has helped to fund the general running costs of the hospice and enhanced the care of thousands of people over the years.”
Professor Derek Willis, medical director at Severn Hospice says, “We need specialised mattresses, we need specialised beds, we need hoists to be able to move people, and to make sure their basic care is provided for. It’s such important work. It’s through the incredible generosity of people like June that we can do that. What a legacy! What an amazing thing to be known for.”
This humble and amazing 81-year-old sister has been taken a little by surprise by the attention. She has been contacted by the media and been interviewed live on BBC Radio Shropshire. When the email came in December 2020 officially notifying her of the British Empire Medal, she thought it was a scam, and had to ask one of her sons to check it out for her.
But this is not June’s only experience with celebrity status. In 2020 she was nominated for a civic award by the mayor of Shrewsbury for charitable services, which recognises those who have gone above and beyond. She received a certificate for being nominated. June has also received a long service award from the Severn Hospice. In 2013, June was invited to attend a royal garden party at Buckingham Palace in recognition of her charitable work.
June insists, “It’s the donors that deserve the credit” and “the members of my family who have all supported me”. She continues, “After Gordon’s death the family took over the collection and we are all in it together, my sons and grandchildren”. This has been a family affair: son Adam, helping with transport to and from Shrewsbury Market, and with collections; daughter-in-laws help with the safe depositing of donations; son Mathew running a full marathon to raise money in the UK and his brother John, cycling from London to Paris (via a ferry) to raise money; 9-year-old grandson Josh creating his My Marathon Challenge, which became known around the county of Shropshire, running a mile a day around the school sports field for 26 consecutive days, raising over £1,000.
Including the efforts started by Bro Gordon Beharrell who initially had raised over £130,000 for the Lingden Davis and Severn Hospice, the family collectively have raised over £211,000 for various charities. It has been hard to get clarity about the amounts raised by the family, as their focus has always been on the service given and not the amount raised.
June admits, “Service has always been part of my life. It’s in my blood”. She started to serve as she engaged in civic youth programmes when she was a young girl, starting as a Brownie, then on to being a Guide, and then a Ranger. As an adult, June has also been very active in the Church since her baptism in 1964, having had many opportunities to serve her fellow members through callings in Primary and Young Women. She has also served as a ministering sister throughout her Church membership. She was released in 2020 as the ward Relief Society president, at age 81!
About collecting for charity, June records; “It’s taught me a lot, sitting in the market. It’s taught me empathy, it’s given me the opportunity to serve, to show love and compassion to people. I love it because I see people who are kind. It’s all about caring, just like the Saviour. It doesn’t matter what colour you are, what religion you are. … when I’m collecting, people very often tell me when they have problems in their family. I’ve held people’s hands and cried with them.”
Through June’s service she has been an unwitting but natural missionary. She quietly explains about some who share that they, or other family members, are struggling with health or other issues. “They have known I am a member of the Church and have asked me if I would say a prayer for them.” When appropriate, she even asks some regular donors if they would like the names of their loved ones who are ill to be put on the Church’s temple prayer roll, which they enthusiastically agree too!
She says, “I have a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It’s all about caring for others, just like the Saviour—seeking people out and helping them. And that’s what we do as a church. We’ve all got the opportunity sometimes in our lives to give love and friendship to other people, and I think I am very fortunate to do that.”

While visiting the country of Sierra Leone in West Africa, I participated in a meeting conducted by a stake Primary leader. Mariama led with such love, grace, and confidence that it was easy to assume she had long been a member of the Church. Mariama, however, was a fairly recent convert.
Her younger sister joined the Church and invited Mariama to attend a Church class with her. Mariama was deeply impressed by the message. The lesson was on the law of chastity. She asked to have the missionaries teach her more and soon received a testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. She was baptized in 2014, and her daughter was baptized last month. Imagine, the two fundamental teachings that led to Mariama’s conversion were the law of chastity and the Prophet Joseph Smith, two points the world often sees as irrelevant, outdated, or inconvenient. But Mariama testified that she was like a moth attracted to the light. She said, “When I found the gospel, I found myself.” She discovered her worth through divine principles. Her value as a daughter of God was revealed to her through the Holy Ghost.
Now let’s meet the Singh sisters from India. Renu, on the far right, the first of five sisters to join the Church, shared these thoughts:
“Before I started investigating the Church, I didn’t really feel that I was very special. I was just one of many people, and my society and culture didn’t really teach me that I had any value as an individual. When I learned the gospel and learned that I was a daughter of our Heavenly Father, it changed me. Suddenly I felt so special—God had actually created me and had created my soul and my life with value and purpose.
“Before I had the gospel in my life, I was always trying to prove to others that I was someone special. But when I learned the truth, that I am a daughter of God, I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. I knew that I was special. … Don’t ever think that you are nothing.”
President Thomas S. Monson said it perfectly when he quoted these words: “The worth of a soul is its capacity to become as God.”
I was recently blessed to meet another young woman who understands this same truth. Her name is Taiana. I met her at Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. Taiana was a junior in high school when she was diagnosed with cancer. She fought a brave battle for 18 months before passing away a few short weeks ago. Taiana was full of light and love. She was known for her contagious smile and her trademark “double thumbs-up.” When others asked, “Why you, Taiana?” her response was, “Why not me?” Taiana sought to become like her Savior, whom she so dearly loved. During our visits, I learned that Taiana understood her divine worth. Knowing she was a daughter of God gave her peace and courage to face her overwhelming trial in the positive way she did.

“Try to hurry,” Mother told Andy, who was just leaving for school.
“I’ll try,” Andy promised, waving good-bye. It was only two blocks to school. Andy was never late, but he always arrived just as the tardy bell rang. If Andy hurried, he wouldn’t have any fun at all.
As soon as Andy started for school, he saw something high up in the maple tree on the corner. It looked like an orange parrot on a branch, hopping up and down whenever the wind blew.
“Wake up, slowpoke, or you’ll be late,” Karen called as she passed him. She was skipping and swinging her lunch pail with every step.
As Andy came closer to the maple tree he could see that the patch of orange was just a piece of torn kite caught in the branches.
When he started walking again, he looked up and noticed that one big cloud seemed to be racing another across the sky. They looked like two sailboats with their white sails puffed out in the wind.
“C’mon, turtle, or you’ll never make it on time,” Billy called, dashing by.
It bothered Andy that everyone was always trying to hurry him. If they would slow down a little I could show them some of the interesting things I see every day. My friends are missing a lot by rushing to school so fast, Andy thought.
It was getting late now and Andy started to walk faster. He tried not to look at anything but the sidewalk in front of him. But something bright glinted under a bush next to the sidewalk. It was shiny and yellow and he imagined that it was a beady eye of a snake watching him.
Andy bent down for a closer look and scooped something up and put it into his pocket.
When Andy slipped into his seat at school, the tardy bell was ringing. Mrs. Rogers was sitting at her desk and had her arm around Karen. Karen’s face was red, and her cheeks were wet with tears.
“What happened?” someone asked.
“Karen lost her birthday present on the way to school,” Mrs. Rogers explained.
“It was a gold bracelet,” Karen said. “My father gave it to me yesterday, and I brought it today to show everyone.”
Andy walked up to Mrs. Rogers’ desk. “Is this your bracelet, Karen?” he asked, pulling a sparkling chain with a tiny gold heart on it out of his pocket.
Karen reached for it and said, “Where did you find it?”
“I found it under a bush on my way to school,” Andy explained.
“I didn’t see it when I came by,” Billy said.
“That’s because you were in a hurry,” Andy told him.
“You’re always slow,” Karen told Andy, “but I guess you notice more things than the rest of us.”
“You can see a lot of things if you take the time to look,” Andy said, smiling.
After school Billy and Karen walked with Andy while he told them about some of the interesting things that can be found every day. And not once did they call him a slowpoke.

Several years ago, the members of a teachers quorum decided to work together to do secret acts of kindness within their ward. It started when one or two of them fixed a broken bicycle for another quorum member without telling him they had been the ones to do it. When he eventually found out about their help, the quorum members decided to find others in their ward whom they could help anonymously. Because others soon became aware of the acts of kindness that were secretly being performed, they became known as the “ward phantoms.” Eventually, they had cards printed which they left as evidence that the “phantoms” had struck again, doing good and trying not to “get caught” at it. It was a long time before the ward finally figured out who had been at the root of these many good deeds of service.

I can’t refrain from telling you one other thing about that visit with my brother in Washington. He was to take a B-25 bomber to Texas to pick up something and return to Washington the next day. I went with him. That was the only time we flew together.

Many years later I was honored by Weber State University, where we both had graduated. He had been a student body officer during his college days. Because I would be in South America, he agreed to attend the banquet and accept the award in my behalf.

In his acceptance speech he told this story—part of which is true. He said that in Texas we were lined up side by side on the runway ready to take off. He radioed to me and said, “See you upstairs—if you think you can make it!”

Then he told them that after I became a General Authority of the Church, once in a while I would check on his behavior and add, “See you upstairs—if you think you can make it!”

Well, Leon made it. He is now where I hope one day to be.

A number of years ago my brother called me and as we visited, I asked him that same question, he said he had had better days. He then asked me how my day was and I told him that I no longer had bad days; of course he wanted an explanation.

That day some unusual things happened. I was at work trying to keep pace with a busy schedule. I had just finished my morning surgeries and hurried to exam room one to see my first patient, in our practice there is a small slot in the door that holds the medical records where the technicians write their findings as they interview clients and examine the patient. Today the card was empty. That was strange and as that fact was beginning to register, something else out of the ordinary happened. The door softly closed behind me, and the technician who normally followed me into the room was on the other side of it. There was a scruffy white and black dog sitting on the exam table, you have never seen such an emaciated mess in all your life. He had one red swollen eye and what looked to be a large dirt clod on his head. His coat was dirty and unkempt and he was very gaunt.

Having no idea what we were doing, and learning only that the dogs name was Cholo from the record, I asked, "What are we doing for Cholo today?" For a moment no one answered, there appeared to be a whole family there, grandparents a mother and father and several kids, and they all looked at the floor. They were Hispanic and as is often the case an older woman touched a young girl on the shoulder and she began to speak. "We had Cholo put to sleep a week ago." With that flat statement my gut tightened slightly, I could envision that we had put Cholo to sleep a week ago and that somehow we had not done a very good job, and he had come back to life, you know that can be considered as one of the ultimate failures. That is a hard decision for people to make and if it had gone poorly, I could imagine that they were not happy, so tentatively, I asked, "Did we put him to sleep?" They smiled and the little girl said "no". Now relieved but still confused I prompted them to continue. This time the mother in broken English began to explain. "A week ago Cholo ran into the road and was hit by a car, it didn't kill him but he was badly hurt." "His eyeball was popped out and his skull was fractured, we could see his brain!" "We knew he could not live and so my husband's friend took him into the desert and put him to sleep." I asked, "How did he put him to sleep?" She answered that he had shot him five times. I laughed and commented, "He must not have been a very good shot." "Oh no", came the reply, "Cholo was dead, and we buried him in a shallow grave."

This was becoming more bizarre by the moment. Still perplexed, I ask, "How did he get home." She said, "An hour ago the phone rang and my husband's boss said your dog is out here and he doesn't look very good, you better come and get him. We tried to explain that it could not be our dog that he had been dead for a week, but he said he was sure it was our dog and that we had better come down. It was Cholo and so here we are." Still not sure what they wanted, I ask, "What do you want us to do, put him to sleep?" The mother became excited and began to shake her head, "No, no, Cholo is a good dog, after all of this, he came home to us. We want you to fix him."

Cholo had had a bad day. He set a new standard for bad days. He had been hit by a car, had his skull fractured, his eyeball popped out of its socket. He had been taken out into the desert away from his family and shot five times. Then to end this bad day, he was buried alive. So with this as our standard, I would submit that I have never had a bad day and neither have most of you.

These were poor people so I began to explain that we would want to take x-rays and run some tests to see what would be best for Cholo. The mother looked at her hands and said "We only have $1200.00." I am sure this was all the money they had in the world. I told them to have a seat and we would see how extensive his injuries were and then we could talk of the costs involved.

I really expected to find very little when we x-rayed Cholo, but when the pictures were developed, he had been shot five times in the head and neck. I don't know how he was alive, but he was. The dirt clod on the head turned out to be a large laceration and a fracture into his frontal sinus. What they thought was the brain was actually the sinus cavity. We cleaned it up and sutured his wounds. The eye was very red and hemorrhagic; it had been proptosed and because of the loss of blood it had sunk back in to the socket and his vision was fine, even though the eye was very blood shot. Cholo required very little attention, a few sutures and some antibiotics and pain killers. He was a modern day miracle.

Jenny was excited to visit her friend Anne, who had moved to New York, but she was also afraid. What if she missed her airplane? What if Anne wasn’t there to meet her?
Dad helped Jenny find the right place at the airport and hugged her good-bye. “Have a good time,” he said. Jenny felt nervous, but she remembered that in family prayer Mom had prayed for her safety.
On the flight, Jenny read a book and drank juice. After landing, she found Anne’s family waiting with big smiles on their faces. “Welcome to New York!” Anne cried.
During the week they played, hiked, picnicked, and shopped. They even saw the Palmyra Temple and the Sacred Grove. When it was time to fly home, Jenny felt brave. She found her seat—right next to the window!—and put on her seatbelt.
Just as the plane began speeding up, it slowed again. The engines quieted, then stopped. “Is something wrong?” Jenny worried to herself.
“We can’t take off yet because of thunderstorms,” the pilot announced.
Three hours later, the airplane was still sitting on the runway. “I should have been home by now,” Jenny moaned. The grouchy man next to her muttered some bad words, and she felt even worse.
At last, the plane took off. Everyone cheered, except the grouchy man, who scowled. Jenny watched the city lights disappear beneath the clouds, then fell asleep.
A sudden flash awoke her. She blinked out into the darkness. There it was again!—sizzling, crackling lightning. Her stomach turned cold. She had never seen lightning so near. Her hair stood on end, charged with static electricity. She wanted to ask someone what would happen if lightning struck the airplane, but everyone else was asleep. Even the flight attendants were out of sight.
Bam! Another blinding ray of light exploded outside.
“Heavenly Father,” Jenny silently prayed, “I’m scared. Please help me to feel better and get home safely.”
As thunder rumbled and the airplane shook, Jenny remembered her vacation. She had flown to New York without any trouble. She had played, hiked, and ridden in a car. She hadn’t scraped her knees, caught a cold, or gotten lost. She hadn’t even forgotten her toothbrush. Nothing had gone wrong. Suddenly she realized that all of those things were blessings from Heavenly Father.
“If He protected me on the ground,” she thought, “why can’t He protect me in the air?” Peace entered her heart. She knew that no matter where she went, as long as she was faithful, she would be in God’s hands.
She settled back into her chair and fell asleep. When she awoke, the lights of her hometown twinkled up at her. “Prepare for landing,” the pilot said. Jenny offered a prayer of thanks, grateful to be safely home again.

Third, we should give service to others. Service helps us to forget about ourselves and to think more about others. I remember one occasion when I participated in a service project to help a family in our ward. After the service project, I walked home in the dark. As I walked, I thought, “I have no problems.” Of course I had problems, but seeing some of the challenges that this family faced helped me to put my problems in perspective. When we serve others, we focus less on ourselves and experience more joy. The Savior said, “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”

The Light the World initiative encourages members to serve those around them and to share the light of the Saviour wherever they are. Being an example and a disciple of Christ comes with being able to emulate the Saviour.
Sister Bulelwa Cotyi, Mdantsane Ward 3, says that #LightTheWorld has helped her realize the importance of helping the elderly in her neighbourhood.
“I saw the importance of lending a helping hand to all those who are in need—especially the elderly. This initiative has made me realize that we have a responsibility to serve and offer a helping hand to all those who can’t help themselves. The advent calendar made doing these tasks fun,” said Cotyi.
Sister Nomawethu Dingaan from Mdantsane Ward 3 expressed her gratitude for the initiative because it helped her invite a friend to church, and she was later baptized.
“I shared [with her] the Book of Mormon story of how faithful Nephi was, and today she is a member of the Church. She has a calling and next year she is going to the temple. I am really grateful for the pass along cards and scriptures that I got to share with her,” said Dingaan.
Sister Somila Mhini from Mdantsane Ward 2 says that when the video came out, she shared it on Facebook and shared it with friends as well.
“When I shared the video, people were asking questions about what we believe in and what we do. Questions about the campaign came up as well and people were interested in coming to church. I also found that people got enlightened about our practices and they also saw that we all believe in one God and we could have conversations about God and the Saviour,” said Mhini.
Brother Uviwe Malgas served a mission in Uganda, and he participated in the campaign. He felt very close to the Saviour and the experience helped him grow.
“I enjoyed using the advent calendar and using the activities relevant for mission standards. I enjoyed participating because this helped me grow closer to God; I enjoyed helping those in need,” said Malgas.

Your outline of qualifications to become one of the messengers for the Savior would include that one must be morally and sexually pure. I recall the testimony of a young lady at a stake conference in which she told of her dating years. Her mother had helped her to understand the pitfalls. Now a young wife living in an army base, she could look at her husband sitting on the stand at church—a member of the Sunday School presidency—and be proud of him, remembering their wonderful courtship and relationship: married in the temple, nothing to hide, no regrets. She told how they were tempted. But their goal was the temple. They knew the difference between a pure kiss and necking. They knew that virtue is lost by degrees. Their plans were carefully thought out, avoiding the parked car on a lonely road and the late hours alone and the steady dating. She wore a single pearl necklace throughout her courtship as a reminder to remain virtuous.