Gospel Story Finder

My grandmother Marta Cziesla was a wonderful example of doing “small and simple things” to bring great things to pass. We lovingly called her Oma Cziesla. Oma embraced the gospel in the small village of Selbongen in East Prussia together with my great-grandmother on May 30, 1926.
Marta Cziesla (right) on the day of her baptism.
She loved the Lord and His gospel and was determined to keep the covenants she had made. In 1930 she married my grandfather, who was not a member of the Church. At this point it became impossible for Oma to attend Church meetings because my grandfather’s farm was far away from the nearest congregation. But she focused on what she could do. Oma continued to pray, read the scriptures, and sing the songs of Zion.
Some people might have thought she was no longer active in her faith, but that was far from the truth. When my aunt and my father were born, with no priesthood in the home and no Church meetings or access to ordinances nearby, she again did what she could do and focused on teaching her children “to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord.” She read to them from the scriptures, sang with them the songs of Zion, and of course prayed with them—every day. A 100 percent home-centered Church experience.
In 1945 my grandfather was serving in the war far away from home. When enemies approached their farm, Oma took her two little children and left their beloved farm behind to seek refuge in a safer place. After a difficult and life-threatening journey, they finally found refuge in May of 1945 in northern Germany. They had nothing left except the clothes on their bodies. But Oma continued with what she was able to do: she prayed with her children—every day. She sang with them the songs of Zion she had memorized by heart—every day.
Life was extremely hard and for many years focused on simply making sure there was food on the table. But in 1955 my dad, then 17 years old, was going to trade school in the city of Rendsburg. He walked by a building and saw a small sign on the outside that read “Kirche Jesu Christi der Heiligen der Letzten Tage”—“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He thought, “That is interesting; this is Mother’s church.” So when he came home, he told Oma that he had found her church.
You can imagine how she must have felt after almost 25 years of no contact with the Church. She was determined to attend the next Sunday and convinced my father to accompany her. Rendsburg was more than 20 miles (32 km) away from the little village where they lived. But this would not keep Oma from attending church. The next Sunday, she got on her bicycle together with my father and rode to church.
When the sacrament meeting started, my dad sat down in the last row, hoping it would be over soon. This was Oma’s church and not his. What he saw was not very encouraging: only a few older women in attendance and two young missionaries who effectively ran everything in the meeting. But then they started to sing, and they sang the songs of Zion that my dad had heard since he was a little boy: “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” “O My Father,” “Praise to the Man.” Hearing this little flock sing the songs of Zion he’d known since childhood pierced his heart, and he knew immediately and without a doubt that the Church was true.
The first sacrament meeting my grandmother attended after 25 years was the meeting where my father received a personal confirmation of the truthfulness of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. He was baptized three weeks later, on September 25, 1955, together with my grandfather and my aunt.
It has been more than 70 years since that tiny sacrament meeting in Rendsburg. I often think about Oma, how she must have felt in those lonely nights, doing the small and simple things she was able to do, like praying, reading, and singing. As I stand here today in general conference and talk about my Oma, her determination to keep her covenants and trust in the Lord notwithstanding her struggles fills my heart with humility and gratitude—not only for her but for so many of our wonderful Saints throughout the world who focus on the simplicity in Christ in their challenging circumstances, perhaps seeing little change now but trusting that great things will come to pass some day in the future.

The Saints in Johannesburg reach out to each other and to those around them. For example, when the house of Ross’s friend Tumi flooded, many friends from church helped clean up the water and cheer up the family. “This was a turning point for Tumi’s mom, who wasn’t a member,” explains Ross. “She started seeing the missionaries, and today she is a member and a Relief Society teacher.” Such loving watchcare is fairly typical, as the South African members see each other as brothers and sisters. “We involve ourselves as though it was our problem,” Ross says.

Dear Buddy,
Your letter arrived just as Elder Watts and I were leaving for a baptismal service. Elder Watts is the district leader, which means that he’s in charge of all eight elders and two sisters in our district.
Anyway, the person being baptized was a seventy-year-old man named Richard Rockwell. He’s a very special person who was taught by Sister Adams and Sister South. Elder Watts conducted the baptismal service, Sister South gave a talk on baptism, Sister Adams gave one on the gift of the Holy Ghost, and I got to perform the baptism!
After I said the baptismal prayer, I glanced at Brother Rockwell. His eyes were closed, but his whole face was smiling, and tears trickled down his cheeks. I lowered him into the water completely and brought him back up, and for a few seconds we just stood there smiling at each other. Then he hugged me hard and whispered, “Thank you, Elder!” I felt like I was about to burst with joy.
After we changed into dry clothes, Elder Watts asked me to bear my testimony. Before I met Brother Rockwell, the sisters had told us that he had been studying the Bible most of his life but had never joined a church because he couldn’t find any that matched the one that Christ had organized. When the sisters taught him that ours does and that it has apostles and prophets and all the other offices, he became excited. And the more that they taught him, the more excited he became.
Well, in my testimony, I told about your letter and my model airplane. I said that if it’s going to fly, it needs all the right pieces in all the right places, just the way it’s shown in the blueprint that Grandpa and I used when we put it together. Then I explained that it’s the same with the Church. It has to have all the right pieces in all the right places, just the way it is shown in the scriptures.
Brother Rockwell beamed a big smile at me as I was talking. So thanks for your letter, Buddy. And don’t worry about my model airplane. I’m not angry. A little sad, maybe, but I know that accidents happen—especially when things get wild.
Give Rusty a big hug for me and tell him that I expect him to try harder to keep his human friends calm.
Love,Reed

Having lived legally on the East Coast of the United States for a few years, I was acquainted with some of the cities, and they were mostly small.
When I read or heard about the events leading up to the First Vision, crowds of people were mentioned, which did not make sense to me.
Questions began to arise in my mind. Why did the Church have to be restored in the United States and not in Brazil or Italy, the land of my ancestors?
Where were those crowds of people who were involved in the revivals and in the confusion of religions—all of which had happened in such a peaceful and calm place?
I asked a lot of people about it but got no answer. I read everything I could in Portuguese and then in English but found nothing that could calm my heart. I continued to search.
In October 1984, I attended general conference as a counselor in a stake presidency. After, I went to Palmyra, New York, eager to find the answer.
Arriving there, I tried to understand: Why did the Restoration have to be here, and why such a spiritual uproar? Where did all the people mentioned in Joseph’s account come from? Why there?
At that time, the most reasonable answer to me was because the U.S. Constitution guaranteed freedom.
That morning I visited the Grandin Building, where the first edition of the Book of Mormon was printed. I went to the Sacred Grove, where I prayed a lot.
There was hardly anyone on the streets in that small town of Palmyra. Where were the crowds of people that Joseph had mentioned?
That afternoon I decided to go to the Peter Whitmer farm, and when I got there, I found a man at the window of a cabin. He had an intense glow in his eyes. I greeted him and then began to ask those same questions.
He then asked me, “Do you have time?” I said yes.
He explained that Lakes Erie and Ontario and, farther east, the Hudson River are located in that region.
In the early 1800s they decided to build a canal for navigation which would pass through that region, stretching more than 300 miles (480 km) to reach the Hudson River. It was a great enterprise for that time, and they could rely only on human labor and animal power.
Palmyra was a center for some of that construction. Builders needed skilled people, technicians, families, and their friends. Many people began to pour in from the neighboring towns and places farther away, such as Ireland, to work on the canal.
That was such a sacred and spiritual moment because I had finally found the crowd. They brought their customs and their beliefs. When the man mentioned their beliefs, my mind was enlightened and my spiritual eyes were opened by God.
At that moment, I understood how the hand of God our Father, in His immense wisdom, had prepared in His plan a place to bring the young Joseph Smith, putting him in the midst of that religious confusion, because there, in the Hill Cumorah, the precious plates of the Book of Mormon were hidden.
This was the stage of the Restoration, where the Father’s voice would be heard after nearly two millennia in a wonderful vision, talking to the boy Joseph Smith, when he went to the Sacred Grove to pray and heard: “This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!”
There he saw two personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description. Yes, God revealed Himself to man again. The darkness that covered the earth began to dissipate.
The prophecies regarding the Restoration began to be fulfilled: “And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people.”
In a few short years, Joseph was led to the records of prophecies, covenants, and ordinances left by ancient prophets, our beloved Book of Mormon.
The Church of Jesus Christ could not be restored without the eternal gospel revealed in the Book of Mormon as another testament of Jesus Christ, even the Son of God, the Lamb of God, who took away the sins of the world.
Christ said to His people in Jerusalem:
“And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold.”
“I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine.”
When leaving the Whitmer farm, I do not remember saying good-bye. I just remember tears running freely down my face. The sun was setting in a beautiful sky.
In my heart an immense joy and peace calmed my soul. I was filled with gratitude.
I now clearly understood why. Once again the Lord had given me knowledge and light.
During my trip home, scriptures continued to flow into my mind: the promises made to Father Abraham that in his seed all families of the earth would be blessed.
And for this, temples would be erected so that the divine power might be conferred upon man once again on the earth so that families could be united, not until death do us part but together for all eternity.
“And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.”

On 27 June 1854, Rosa Clara had her first baby, a little girl, named Annie Augusta after President Farnham. When little Annie Augusta was fourteen months old, the family sailed from Sydney with a company of Saints on the Julia Ann, bound for California. Disaster struck four weeks later.
On the evening of 3 October 1855, Rosa Clara put her baby to bed while some of the pioneering Church members sang hymns on the deck. Suddenly the vessel struck a coral reef. For a little while, confusion reigned. Then, one of the ship’s crew swam to the reef and managed to fasten a rope. With a sling, the captain prepared to ferry the women and children one at a time to the reef.
No one knew what lay ahead in the pitch-black night. The women were afraid. Finally Rosa Clara, not yet eighteen, volunteered to be the first. Hurriedly, she helped tie baby Ann securely to Charles’s back in a brown woolen shawl and readied herself to be taken to the reef. But then, before Rosa Clara’s horrified eyes, her husband and baby were swept overboard by the huge seas. One of the sailors rescued them unharmed.
With enormous courage, then, in leaving her family on the wreck, Rosa Clara climbed onto the captain’s lap and was pulled, hand over hand, to the reef. Here the captain left her standing barefoot on the sharp coral, chest-deep in the sea, with the surf breaking on the reef. She stayed alone and in darkness while he returned for the other women. Gradually, most of the company, including Charles and baby Ann, arrived safely. But not all were so fortunate. Two little girls were washed off the deck and were lost; two women and a small baby drowned in their cabin.
When daylight arrived, the crew made a raft from timber and nails salvaged from the wreck. They managed to get the passengers from the reef to a small island, which became their home for the next eight weeks.
A barrel of hard biscuits and a chest of tea retrieved from the ship, as well as coconuts, fish, turtle meat, and eggs sustained everyone. They formed coconut shells into drinking vessels. With a large silk skirt also salvaged from the wreck, Charles Loge fashioned a tent for Rosa Clara, who was ill, and baby Ann crawled around playing happily in the sand. After repairing the ship’s boat, some of the crew rowed more than 300 kilometers to the Society islands (Tahiti) for help.
The Loge family and others were taken off the island two months after the wreck, finally arriving in San Francisco. There, Elder George Q. Cannon presented Rosa Clara with a small pewter teapot in recognition of her bravery in being the first to go to the reef. The teapot is a treasured family heirloom today, together with a carved coconut-shell drinking vessel and a handmade nail from the Julia Ann.

Tanning and tooling raw cowhide into a handsome, functional, well-balanced saddle is an almost-lost art. Although the trade flourished in the last century, it is today a rare craft. Yet Rich Pearce was fascinated. He came by his interest quite naturally because of the historic western town he comes from—Show Low, Arizona. There wasn’t a saddlery in Show Low, however, so Rich took two summer vacations and spent them in Vernal, Utah, as an apprentice in a saddle company. Rich can now make a saddle any pioneer, sheriff, outlaw, or city dude would be comfortable in and proud to use.

I received my first two-wheel bicycle when I was eight years old. With the help of my older brother and father, I began the rather scary process of figuring out how to ride it. The other kids in the neighborhood made it look so easy and natural as they zoomed up and down the street on their bikes. I perched on the bike seat—which seemed to be at least 10 feet (3 m) above the ground—and realized there was absolutely nothing to keep me from falling over and proving that the law of gravity was alive and well.
As I tried riding, I learned quickly that if I wanted to stay balanced, I had to keep pedaling. When I first sat on the seat, speed was the last thing I wanted to add to the already daunting equation. But I very soon understood the wisdom and the physics involved in moving forward. As long as I kept pedaling, I could stay upright and avoid the rough concrete just waiting to take the skin off my arms and legs. Soon I was zipping around the neighborhood with my friends.
Just as I learned as an eight-year-old girl that I needed to keep pedaling and moving forward in order to defy gravity and keep my balance on my bicycle, it is important for all of us to keep moving forward with faith, trusting in the counsel of living prophets and a loving Heavenly Father to keep us from falling. Some of our destinations are just down the road while others will take a lifetime of faithful living to achieve. The promises of what lies at the end of the road, if we are faithful, are certain and glorious and well worth the ride.

The first recorded glimpse of a celebration is written on Christmas 1843 by the Prophet Joseph Smith. The entry marks a new outlook among Mormons toward the day:
“This morning, about one o’clock, I was aroused by an English sister, Lettice Rushton, … accompanied by three of her sons, with their wives, and her two daughters, with their husbands, and several of their neighbors, singing, ‘Mortals, Awake With Angels Join,’ which caused a thrill of pleasure to run through my soul. All of my family and boarders arose to hear the serenade, and I felt to thank my Heavenly Father for their visit, and blessed them in the name of the Lord. They also visited my brother Hyrum, who was awakened from his sleep. He arose and went out of doors. He shook hands with and blessed each one of them in the name of the Lord, and said that at first he thought a cohort of angels had come to visit him, it was such heavenly music to him.”
Later in the day the Prophet wrote the following took place:
“A large party supped at my house, and spent the evening in music, dancing, etc. in a most cheerful and friendly manner.”

Our second son lived much of his youth apart from the Church. When he turned 20, he had an experience that made him want to change his life. With love, prayers, and help from his family and members of the Church, and ultimately through the compassion and grace of the Lord, he returned to the Church.

He was later called to serve in the Washington Seattle Mission. He initially suffered great discouragement. Every night for the first three months, he would go into the bathroom and cry. Like Elder Cowan, he sought to understand “Why am I here?”
After he served for a year, we received an email that was an answer to our prayers. He wrote: “Right now I can really feel the love of God and of Jesus. I will work hard to become like the prophets of old. Though I am also experiencing a lot of difficulties, I am truly happy. Serving Jesus really is the best thing ever. There is nothing as wonderful as this. I am so happy.”

He felt as Alma did: “And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!”

When my parents got divorced, I felt that all my hope of having an eternal family had ended. It was a very hard moment in my life. However, even though it wasn’t easy for me to recognize, that trial brought unforeseen blessings to my family. For one, my mom got baptized!
I also was able to get to know my Savior better. To get over my sadness, I chose to visit an aunt in Peru, where I met a new friend who strengthened me greatly. That friend and I often studied the scriptures together and during one special occasion while we were discussing gospel topics, I felt the love of my Savior for me very strongly. The feeling was like the voice of my Savior telling me, “I have always been with you; you just couldn’t tell.”
Now I know that our Savior wants to help us and that He is always with us. Sometimes we allow our sadness to be higher than our faith and we think that He has forgotten us, but in reality, His Atonement can always help us.
Liliane Soares Moreira, Bahia, Brazil

When we arrived at Point Lake, it was covered with ice floes. Shifting ice floes in a bad wind would crash a small canoe like an egg shell. We made camp, and I asked Bob to pray that night. He exhibited a faith rarely seen. He said, simply, “Father, stop the wind.”
The next day when we got up, it was perfectly still. The lake was smooth as a mirror. But we had 32 kilometers to cross. Even the slightest breeze once we were on the lake and we would be destroyed. For 32 kilometers we pushed through the floes. Twice the canoe froze in the ice as we got hemmed in, and we had to jump and pry and push to work our way free. Finally, after 7 1/2 hours, we got into open waters. We had just gotten through the ice floes when the wind began to blow again. The wind had been a daily companion except for those 7 1/2 hours. We prayed again, this time a prayer of thanks.

In Norway, right by the town of Drammen, there is a mountain called the Spiralen. From the outside it looks like a normal mountain, but inside it is hollow. The mountain hides an old quarry where rock was dug, forming a spiral tunnel. Now the tunnel has been converted to a roadway that takes cars to the top for a panoramic view of the town and the ocean.
Not long ago, 43 priests and Laurels from the Norway Oslo Stake climbed the Spiralen as part of a priests and Laurels conference. This was not a regular youth conference; the stake sponsors one of those each year. But the stake also has a long tradition of holding a special conference at which all the priests and Laurels gather for two days of fun and serious discussions.
On the first evening of the conference, local Church leaders joined the youth for a panel discussion and answered gospel questions posed by the priests and Laurels. “All the questions were interesting,” said Jaren Rosaker, Oslo Third Ward. His friend, Christian Tarjei Gylseth, agreed. “They gave good answers as well.” Afterward the youth gathered for dinner and a dance.
The next morning they climbed the Spiralen. It was soon clear that this hike was going to be more than just a fun activity. They should have known. The hike was going to be an object lesson.
First the priests and Laurels divided into family groups using surnames from Church history, such as Smith, Young, and Kimball. The family groups were sent on their way up the path in intervals. The first rest stop was for water. Everything seemed normal. The second stop was for juice. Gradually, the hike’s meaning started to become clear—traveling in family groups, the rewards becoming better and better.
John Gundersen of the Fredrickstad Branch said he caught on to the symbolism of the hike at the first stop. “I started to understand when they told us to hold to the iron rod.” The first stop could be telestial glory. The second stop could be the terrestrial. When the families emerged from the woods at the parking lot near the top, they were expecting the end of the journey and their celestial reward. But it was not over yet.
Each family was given a wheelbarrow loaded with five large stones. They were told to continue up the path. Everyone was laughing and joking, and no one thought this last stretch would be hard at all. One strong boy could easily handle the loaded wheelbarrow, they thought—until they saw the last pull to the summit. It was so steep and slick that they would have a hard time just getting themselves up the hill. But their wheelbarrows and those loads of rocks would make it really hard work.
Each family figured out their own method for getting up the hill. ElRay Gene Hendricksen from the Hokksund Branch said, “We decided to share the burdens. Everyone took a stone out of the wheelbarrow. Two other guys took the empty wheelbarrow. We made it. We were the only family group who did it that way.”
No one complained. They all just pitched in and figured out how to get their rocks to the top. Then came their reward. Hot and tired, they rested and looked out at the beautiful country below them. They were pleased that everyone made it to the top, where they were able to drop their burdens, represented by the stones. They piled the rocks together into an impromptu memorial. Then they were served lunch—food for the body—and listened to a speaker who talked of heavenly things—food for the soul.
Bishop Aabo of the Drammen Ward explained that at times the climb was more challenging for some than for others. For a while a few carried the burdens while the others just walked along and didn’t need to help. But even though the challenges were uneven, eventually they all had to work together to make sure everyone made it to the top. Bishop Aabo pointed out that Jesus Christ promised he would help make our burdens light. Gaining our own testimonies gives us strength to reach the pinnacle.
The hike was the perfect conclusion to the conference. On a social level, it was great fun. Cathrine Opdahl of the Oslo Second Ward said, “The most fun is meeting people of your same age from different parts of Norway, getting to know them in a new way.”
“Yes,” said Kathinka Svendsen, also of the Oslo Second Ward. “We have problems in common, especially at school where people are not accepting that you’re a Latter-day Saint with high morals.”
“Here,” said Kjetil Pedersen of the Drammen Ward, “it’s people with your same attitude and outlook about religion. It’s good to do something together.”
Some of the most profound things these young people had to say came in quiet moments when asked about answers to prayers or about their testimonies. Then they spoke about the calm, quiet feeling of peace that could only come from the Lord. Jaran said, “I read Moroni 10:4 [Moro. 10:4]. That says if you ask God if what is written in the Book of Mormon is true, he will answer. I tried it out. I got the feeling that it was true. It is kind of a warm, good feeling inside.”
Hanne Akselsen of the Oslo Second Ward also felt something intense when she read the Book of Mormon. “I had taken the first discussion from the missionaries, but I hadn’t felt anything special when they told me I had to study and pray. I tried. I prayed and studied. What happened was amazing. It felt like the Book of Mormon was written to me. I just recognized it. It was so familiar and right.”
Coming to the priests and Laurels conference “helps build Zion here in Norway,” said Ida Podhorny of the Moss Ward. “We learn to be in the world, not of the world. I’m thankful for my good friends.”
Désireé Bjerkoe, the stake Young Women president, said, “Our purpose is to strengthen the youth and get them to strengthen each other. Actually that’s what they do. They stay up late and talk. That time is golden. If they don’t have friendships in the Church, then they turn to their friends outside the Church.”
Soon it was time to leave the mountaintop and go back down to the real day-to-day world. But as these friends made their way back down, they knew that in that high place they had built a monument more significant than one of simple stones. ElRay Hendricksen explained: “It is a monument that symbolized that we had all done the same things and made it to the top by helping each other. But we are not finished yet. We will have to develop ourselves and stay together and stay true.”
On a mountaintop in Norway, one group of teens found some answers.

“Here I am, Grandfather!” shouted Barbie as she jumped out of the parked car in front of her Grandfather’s farm. “What’s the big job you want me to do?”
When Grandfather had called last night, he said the sap was flowing, it was sugar time, and he needed Father’s help. But he told Barbie he had a special and very important job for her too.
“You’re just in time,” Grandfather said as he picked Barbie up and whirled her around.
“What do you want me to do?” Barbie asked eagerly.
“You’ll see,” answered Grandfather.
He hurried toward the barn. Soon he came out leading two large powerful horses. The horses pulled a sleigh with a big tank on it that Grandfather called a gathering rig.
“You’re going to ride on the rig,” Grandfather said as he gave Barbie a boost up behind the horses.
This is my job, thought Barbie. Grandfather needs me to drive the gathering rig.
Swinging tin pails, Grandfather and Father started walking down the narrow snow-covered road.
Before Barbie could say giddap, the horses tugged at their harnesses and the creaky sleigh slowly slid along the road. Down one hill and up another went the horses, their warm breath turning misty in the chilled air.
Soon they came to a grove of maple trees. Sunlight flickered through the bare branches down to shiny buckets hanging on the trees.
“Whoa!” commanded Barbie, but the horses kept moving.
Grandfather and Father stopped at a tree where two buckets were hanging. They emptied the buckets into their big pails and then went on to other trees to empty more buckets. When their gathering pails were full, they stood by the road and waited for the sleigh so they could pour the sap into the tank.
Barbie jumped down into the snow. “I thought my job was to steer the horses,” she said. “But they don’t pay any attention to me. They already know what to do.”
“Smart horses,” commented Grandfather with a smile.
“Then what is my special job?” asked Barbie.
“You’ll see,” Grandfather promised.
Barbie tagged along to the maple trees. She spotted a small tree with a small bucket. This must be what Grandfather meant, she thought. This bucket is just my size.
Barbie tried to lift the bucket, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried again, but it was too full and too heavy. So she sat down on a tree stump and listened to the sap drip-drop into the buckets while Grandfather and Father poured more sap into the gathering rig. I’mnot big enough to help them, Barbie thought.
“It’s full!” announced Grandfather. “Come, Barbie. We’re going to the sugar house.”
They all climbed on the sleigh. Without being told, the horses began to move down the slope to the sugar house.
“Hello, Ben,” Grandfather said to the man who was waiting for them there. “This is Barbie. She’s going to do that special job for us.”
Barbie was tingling with excitement as she watched Ben attach a hose to the tank to drain the sap into a huge wooden vat.
Holding her hand, Grandfather took Barbie into the sugar house. They entered a room filled with a cloud of steam and the odor of burning pine logs mingled with the smell of something sweet. Barbie could see long trays of sap bubbling and popping over the stoves.
“Here is Barbie, Henry,” said Grandfather to a thin man who was stirring the boiling sap. “Are you ready for her to do her job?”
“Almost,” answered Henry. He scooped a dipper full of hot liquid and lifted it. Tilting the dipper, he watched the ribbon of syrup return to the pan.
“Now!” he said.
“Now?” asked Barbie in surprise. “But where is Grandfather?”
“Out here, Barbie,” Grandfather called.
Barbie ran through the door and stopped. Grandfather was standing beside a tub heaped with snow. Father and Ben were there too. Henry brought a newly filled dipper to Grandfather, who poured it on the snow. The cooled syrup changed to thick candy.
Grandfather handed a tiny wooden paddle to Barbie.
“Your job,” said Grandfather, “is to be the official taster.”
Barbie carefully scooped up the maple sugar candy and slowly tasted it. Then in her most expert voice she announced, “It’s delicious!”
Grandfather nodded his head in approval.
“M-m-m-m,” Barbie said as she took another taste of the sweet surprise. Then she looked at Grandfather. “I’ll be glad to do this job for you every year,” she promised.

A Relief Society sister in Ghana visits a woman who thirsts for truth but cannot read. To give her sister the opportunity to drink deeply of gospel truths, the visiting teacher tries to be with her as often as possible. She reads the scriptures to her sister and explains their meaning, in her native tongue.
Through their daily acts of service, these women partake of and pass on to others the water springing up into eternal life.

When you really believe in something, when you know with all your heart that it’s right and that you will defend it and live by it, how do you express that feeling? If you live in Trinidad and feel that way about your culture, they say you are “Trini to de bone.”
A similar expression could apply to young Latter-day Saints in Trinidad. Because they know the Church is true and that they will stand up for it and live by its standards no matter what, you could say that they are Latter-day Saints “to the bone.” They don’t just live the gospel on the surface; it’s in every thought and action.
Here are some of the things youth in the Arima Branch, Port of Spain Trinidad District, recommend that you should do to build your own spiritual “bones.”
Stay morally clean. On billboards and TV, in videos and magazines, even in conversations with some friends, unclean thoughts seem to jump in anywhere you’ll permit them. The best way to beat them is to fill your mind with worthy thoughts instead. “My favorite scripture is D&C 121:45,” says Curfew Sherazade Ali, 17. “If we learn now to have clean thoughts, then we will want to be around others who think the same way. And at the last day, when we meet the Savior, we won’t be ashamed. We will have the confidence to face Him because we will be worthy to stand in His presence.”
Choose good music. “Music is an issue here,” says Curfew. “Dancing, too.” Every weekend in Trinidad, clubs blast loud beats into the streets, and people waiting to dance mill around outside in less-than-modest clothing. On the other hand, Curfew says, “Good music doesn’t degrade you or anyone else. It doesn’t use foul language or drive the Spirit away. Good music can help you feel calm, cheer you up, or help you get closer to your Heavenly Father.” So if you want to feel better, club hopping isn’t the answer. Instead, surround yourself with songs that are uplifting and inspirational, and go to—or organize—dances where standards are observed.
Make good friends. Peer pressure is another challenge for youth in Trinidad, according to Mark Christian Mangray, 17. “No matter what wrong things some of your peers might try to influence you to do, you need to choose the right. Good friends with high standards make that a lot easier. Be a good example yourself, and look for friends who will be a good example to you.” Peaches Clarke, 16, says that once you establish a reputation for being good, it gets easier and easier. “People know me, and they know I won’t do things that are wrong,” Peaches says. Though some will tease or make fun, most will respect your beliefs if you stand strong.
Get an education, but also become wise. Curfew dreams of working as a marine biologist, and Mark talks about becoming an environmentalist, surveyor, or maybe even a pilot. But they both agree that there is a difference between learning and wisdom. “We can study many things,” Mark explains. “But unless we also learn the gospel, we may have knowledge without understanding.”
Build strength daily. One of the best ways to build spiritual bones is through scripture study. “The stories in the scriptures help me know I’m not the only one who faces challenges and trials,” Mark says. “I love the story of Alma. He was one of the high priests of wicked King Noah, but he listened to Abinadi and knew he must repent. The scriptures show me that it’s happened before and these people found a way to learn from their mistakes.” In Trinidad such scripture study takes place daily through home-study seminary. Then on Saturdays, all of the students get together and discuss what they have learned.
“What helps me be strong every day,” Curfew says, “is thinking about the promises the Lord made to the prophets of old, like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I have faith in those promises. Each day, I think about what the Lord would have me do in each circumstance I am facing. I try to act as if He is right beside me, and I try to be a good example to those around me, because they may want to come unto Christ, too.”
Two other Arima Branch members who were influenced by that kind of example are Jenelle and Kimberly Phillip, who were recently baptized and confirmed along with their mother.
“I saw all the good things they are doing in the Church, and I wanted to be a part of it too,” says Jenelle, 12. The other youth, she adds, have really made her feel welcome.
Kimberly, 17, says a turning point came when their mother heard them talking about baptism. “She said that she liked the Church and that she wanted to be baptized, too! I really like it that she was baptized and confirmed at the same time and place that we were.”
All of the youth came for the baptismal service, and Kimberly says that means a lot to her, too. “It feels nice being a part of the Church and learning about Heavenly Father and how He wants us to live,” she says. “We know that in the Church the living prophets teach everyone the word of God. When I learned about that I said, ‘This is right for me.’”
With belief like that, both Kimberly and Jenelle are well on their way to becoming Latter-day Saints to the bone. It’s a feeling well known to all of the LDS youth in Trinidad, a feeling Peaches sums up when she says, “I feel blessed. Before I understood the gospel, I didn’t really have any idea of who I am. But now, I feel like I have purpose. I am a child of God, and He put me here for a reason, so I had better fulfill it.” And she feels it, all the way to her bones.

I was seven years old when my foster sister, Patty Lou, came to live with us. My younger brother and sister and I were anxious for this new baby. Mom and Dad said that she needed a new family. We knew about foster children—they were newborn babies our neighbors brought home until a good family adopted them. We were excited to be a foster family, too.
But the baby our parents brought home was not what we expected. For one thing, this baby was nine months old, a lot bigger than a newborn. She had brown hair and big, dark eyes, but she never smiled. And even though she was old enough to sit up and crawl, she couldn’t do either one—she could only lie there and stare at us.
We three kids stared at her, too. Patty had a large red birthmark on her face that covered half of her cheek, nose, and lip. I had a birthmark on my leg, a light brown one, but Patty’s was different and it was hard not to stare at it.
Mom explained, “Even though Patty is still a baby, she has had a rough start already. We don’t know why, but her family neglected her and left her alone in her crib for many hours every day. They didn’t play with her or hold her or love her. As long as she lives with us, we are going to take care of her and show her lots and lots of love. I think that’s what she needs, don’t you?”
Overnight, our lives changed. The old crib that was gathering dust in the garage was put up in my brother’s bedroom, and suddenly there were bottles and diapers and baby toys all over the house.
At first, Patty just watched us with her pretty dark eyes, but it wasn’t long before she smiled for the first time. She started to coo and kick her legs, and soon she could sit up, propped up by piles of pillows and one of us sitting close enough to catch her if she toppled over.
I loved to entertain her in sacrament meeting with little toys and games. Other times, my brother and sister and I made funny faces to make her laugh. We were quickly learning to love our little foster baby.
I soon noticed how people stared at Patty in stores or restaurants. I didn’t like it, especially when someone was mean to her. I had learned in Primary that we should love everybody, no matter what they looked like on the outside. I had angry feelings inside, but my Primary teacher told us a story about Jesus and some people who had a disease called leprosy. Even though other people were mean to the lepers and called them names, Jesus loved them and blessed them. I knew that He loved Patty, too, and I tried to be kinder to everyone.
One day, I saw my parents looking at the newspaper and talking about Patty. They showed me that there was a picture of Patty in the paper, along with a little story that told about Patty’s need to be adopted. I read, “Patty is looking for a real family who will love her and take care of her.”
I noticed that Dad was very quiet and Mom had tears in her eyes. Patty had lived with us for almost a year, and it was hard to think of her going to live with anyone else.
Not long after that day, Mom dressed Patty in her prettiest outfit and put a ribbon in her brown hair. She told us, “There is a young couple who want to come and see Patty and take her on an outing to the zoo. They might want to adopt her, so I want everyone on their best behavior.”
I felt hot tears sting my eyes, and I ran to the bedroom I shared with my sister. I didn’t want to see the people who might take Patty away. I couldn’t pretend that I was happy that she might be adopted. I cried long and hard. By the time I came out of my room, Patty was on her way to the zoo.
Our family seemed to walk on tiptoe in the days that followed. We knew the adoption agency would call to let us know what this young couple had decided, and we jumped every time the phone rang. Finally one night the call came. The look of relief on my father’s face was clear—Patty was staying.
I bundled Patty up and put her in the stroller. While she waved her hands at all the neighbors, I pushed her happily around the block. I didn’t even mind when a group of kids pointed their fingers at her birthmark and started to laugh. I stopped the stroller and gave her a big hug. I was so happy, I thought I would burst!
Patty was our one and only foster baby. We put in our own application to adopt her, and she soon became an official part of our family. We changed her name to Patricia Lin and waited for the day we could go to the temple as a family to be sealed to her forever.
I remember waiting in the children’s room that wonderful day in the St. George Utah Temple, all four of us dressed in sparkling white. A temple worker came to take us to the sealing room at the top of a long staircase. As we entered the beautiful room and saw our parents and grandparents gathered around the sacred altar, little Patty called out, “Hi, Grandpa!” I remember how the Spirit flooded our hearts and made us all cry tears of joy. Patty was now part of our eternal family, just as if she had been born to our parents. We were a “real” family at last!

After eight years of not attending church, Paulo (all names have been changed) received a phone call from his bishop in Brazil asking how he was doing. Paulo had longed to return, but many concerns kept him from full activity. How could he avoid comparing himself, still single, to those married with children? Would he find any friends at church after so long and, if he did, what would they think of him? Would he still be able to feel the Spirit like he had during his conversion and mission or have enough faith to accept callings?
One month after the phone call, Paulo watched President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, give a conference talk called, “Come, Join with Us.”1 “That talk hit me hard,” he recalls, and within a few weeks he found himself sitting in the church parking lot, trembling and offering a silent prayer for the strength to get out of the car and enter the building.
“Everything wasn’t perfect,” he recalls of his first year after returning. It wasn’t easy to fit in. Yet a feeling of connectedness to the Savior and a strong desire for a temple recommend helped him overcome his insecurities. He began reading his scriptures and praying again. “If you don’t give up, you gain strength and can feel the Lord blessing you,” he advises those who struggle to feel accepted. “I have a testimony that this is Christ’s Church, but it’s in Him you will find true belonging.”

While the Hendricks family was reuniting in the Salt Lake Valley, the men of Brigham’s return company were still venturing east on the trail. They had been traveling rapidly and were now exhausted and running low on food. Their horses were growing weaker and starting to give out. In the mornings, some animals needed help getting to their feet.37
Amid these difficulties, Brigham remained unsettled about his meeting with Parley.38 Although he had forgiven his fellow apostle and told him to forget the matter, their disagreement revealed a need for clarification—and possibly changes—in how the Church was currently led and organized.
In Joseph’s day, a First Presidency had presided over the Church. After the prophet’s death, however, the First Presidency had been dissolved, leaving the Twelve to preside in its place. According to revelation, the Twelve Apostles formed a quorum equal in authority to the First Presidency. Yet they also had a sacred duty to serve as a traveling council and take the gospel to the world.39 As a quorum, could they adequately fulfill this mandate while still shouldering the duties of the First Presidency?
Brigham had occasionally considered reorganizing the First Presidency, yet he had never thought the time was right. Since leaving the Salt Lake Valley, questions about the future of Church leadership had loomed over him.40 He pondered the matter quietly on the road to Winter Quarters, and more and more he felt the Spirit urging him to act.
One day, while resting beside a river, he turned to Wilford Woodruff and asked if the Church should call members of the Twelve to form a new First Presidency.
Wilford thought it over. Altering the Quorum of the Twelve—a quorum established by revelation—was a serious matter.
“It would require a revelation to change the order of that quorum,” Wilford observed. “Whatever the Lord inspires you to do in this matter, I am with you.”41

The Young Men and Young Women programs are thriving. Daniel, 13, and his brother met the missionaries on the street two years ago. They were baptized. Now their mother and cousin are also members. Daniel says some people have been misled by negative stories in the local newspapers. “But I know inside me that the Church is true,” says Daniel. “I try to tell my friends at school about the Church, and I try to encourage them to keep the commandments.”

This man who has achieved so much and shared so much once had to learn to live with a great disappointment. Almost every day for many years he has driven past a reminder of a dream that did not come true. On a lawn near the entrance to the NASA compound is a Saturn V launch vehicle with an Apollo spacecraft at its tip. It lies on its side, broken into stages like the earth-beached skeleton of some great space creature. People stand and look at it and shake their heads. It is so huge there isn’t room for it in their imaginations. Standing there they have to reach inside themselves and expand their estimate of what man is. This is the stuff of legends. This earthbound ship was built to take men a million times higher than the ancient tower that provoked God’s wrath when its builders aspired to heaven. This mighty craft was scheduled to propel Don Lind to the moon, until budget cuts canceled his flight. Now that dream lies rusting on the grass with the mighty Saturn engines.
Looking at the Apollo rocket, Brother Lind said reflectively, “When I realized that I wasn’t going to the moon, that was a traumatic experience, and I had to reevaluate what was really important. I realized again what I knew all along—being an astronaut is not my most important calling. I remember a discussion my wife Kathleen and I had in which I said that getting to the moon couldn’t be all that important because probably 15 years later only she and I would remember if I made it. Can any of you name all the people who’ve been on the moon? But if one of my kids was in the state penitentiary or had just gone through some horrible divorce or something like that, that was important, so what I did as a father was obviously more important than what I did as an astronaut. So I came to the conclusion that there are really only two things that count—what you do for the family and what you can do to build the kingdom, and the rest of it is pretty trivial. And really, whether you walk on the moon just isn’t that important.”