Gospel Story Finder

Service requires unselfishness, sharing, and giving. My wife and I learned a valuable lesson during our time of service in Africa. We were assigned to a district conference in Jinja, Uganda. Early Saturday morning before our meetings began, we took the opportunity to tour a new chapel in the area. As we arrived at the building, we were greeted by a young boy of three to four years of age. He had come to the Church grounds to see what was going on. Struck by his broad smile, Sister Snow reached in her purse and handed him a wrapped piece of hard butterscotch candy. He was delighted.
We spent a few minutes touring the chapel before returning outside. We were met by more than a dozen smiling children who each wanted to meet the new neighborhood candy lady.
Phyllis was heartbroken, as she had given the boy her last piece of candy. She disappointedly gestured to the children there was no more. The small boy who initially greeted us then handed the candy back to Sister Snow, gesturing for her to unwrap it. With a heavy heart, Phyllis did so, fully expecting the boy to pop the butterscotch candy into his mouth in full view of his envious friends.
Instead, to our great surprise, he went to each of his friends, who stuck out their tongues and received one delicious lick of the butterscotch candy. The young boy continued around the circle, occasionally taking his own lick, until the candy was gone.
Now, one can argue the lack of sanitation with this gesture of sharing, but no one can dispute the example set by this young boy. Unselfishness, sharing, and giving are essential to service. This child learned that lesson well.

Did you ever have to take care of a grown-up? I’ve done it many times. Every Saturday my sister and I take turns going to my grandmother’s house. Grandma has dementia, which means she forgets a lot. Because her condition has been getting worse, she can’t be left alone. A few years ago, she was taking me to the store. Now I take her. But I don’t mind. I love Grandma, and we still have a lot of fun together.
Today was my turn to be with Grandma. She shuffled into the living room. “How do I look?” she asked. “You didn’t have to help me get dressed today.”
Grandma’s red jacket didn’t really match her bright pink blouse and brown pants, but I was happy she had been able to dress herself. “You always look good to me, Grandma.”
Grandma smiled. “So, where are we walking today?”
“The shoe store. Mom said you need new walking shoes.”
“Oh,” she said. “Can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Sure,” I said, smiling. Going to the doughnut store was the one thing Grandma never forgot to do.
Half an hour later, Grandma sat patiently as the shoe salesman helped her try on her new shoes. When the salesman went to find a different size, Grandma whispered, “You know, Noreen, I think these shoes are ugly.”
“You’ve never complained about them before, Grandma.”
“Well, they’re not as pretty as those,” she insisted, pointing to a pair of high-heeled shoes on display.
“We are supposed to buy walking shoes,” I reminded her. “You can’t wear high heels to go walking.”
Grandma lowered her eyebrows and scrunched her nose, but she didn’t say anything else.
When the salesman returned, Grandma tried on the shoes, stood up, and walked around. “Ah,” she sighed. “My feet feel wonderful in these shoes.”
“So you like them?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t I always like these shoes?”
Sometimes Grandma contradicts herself. But it doesn’t upset me. I know she can’t help it.
After the salesman boxed up the new shoes, he walked to the cash register. I opened my wallet to find the money Mom had given me. “I’ll go pay now, Grandma. I’ll be right back,” I said.
The salesman was very busy, and I had to wait several minutes before I could pay. When I walked back to Grandma’s seat, she was gone. Her old shoes were still lying on the floor. I quickly scanned the store, but I couldn’t see her. I started feeling very nervous. “Has anyone seen my grandmother?” I yelled.
“A woman with a red jacket walked out the door a few minutes ago,” someone said.
I darted out the door. I hoped I’d find Grandma looking at the pretty shoes in the store window, but she wasn’t there. Just then I saw Grandma walking toward me.
“Grandma!” I cried. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I was so worried!”
“I’m sorry, Noreen. You know, I did the silliest thing! Please don’t be angry, dear.”
“I’m not angry,” I said. “I was just scared.” I sat down on a nearby bench.
Grandma looked off in the distance. “After I got outside, I realized I didn’t have any shoes on,” she explained.
“I’m just glad I found you,” I said.
We went back inside for her shoes. As we walked home, I noticed Grandma’s shoulders were slumped and her head was down. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Everything! I hate all this forgetting business,” she said. “But I just can’t help it.”
“You’re doing all right,” I said. “Everybody forgets now and then.”
“Not like this! Forgetting my shoes, forgetting this, forgetting that!”
“You could be doing much worse, you know. For instance, what do you always put on first, your blouse or your jacket?”
Grandma glanced at me with her bright eyes twinkling. “You’re being silly.”
“No, I’m not! Can you imagine if you put your blouse on top of your jacket?”
“Then I’d really be in bad shape, I guess,” Grandma said as she gave my arm a playful nudge.
“Would you like to go for a walk in the park today?” I asked.
“Sure, but can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Of course.” I held her hand to cross the street. “Don’t we always?”
Like I said, I don’t mind taking care of Grandma. Sometimes it can get a little interesting. But most of the time, we just enjoy each other’s company.

May I share with you this afternoon an experience that happened to a young couple who were members of the Church in Japan. They wished to be married, and as is the custom in Japan, they sought permission from their nonmember parents for the marriage to be performed. The boy’s parents refused to give permission. With concern and disappointment, the young couple prayerfully sought ways to fill their lives with meaningful Church activities and trusted that permission would be forthcoming later.
At this time Church members were planning a trip to the Hawaii Temple, and much emphasis was made and was being placed on the importance of genealogical research. So the couple joined with others in seeking out their ancestors and in planning to have the temple work done for them. The girl searched diligently through shrines, cemeteries, and government record offices, and was able to gather seventy-seven names. The boy’s uncle, who was a respected and influential member of the family, heard of this and was deeply impressed with and interested in her work. He noted the intense devotion of the girl to honoring her ancestors and suggested that such a young lady would be a good wife for his nephew. Permission was granted for the young people to be married, and the marriage was performed. Later they were sealed in the Hawaii Temple.
It is a Japanese tradition that families gather together for special holidays in January and August. As this young couple joined their family members on these special occasions, they displayed their book of remembrance, and much interest was generated in their work and in the reasons for it. They discussed with those relatives assembled their ancestral lines and the importance of completing the genealogical research. It was difficult for their nonmember families to understand the reasons for a Christian church teaching principles such as “ancestral worship,” for this was a Buddhist teaching and tradition.
Today many young men and women are completing their family group sheets and are teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ to their parents and their relatives by this method. Through genealogical research and through doing temple work for their progenitors, and especially with a temple now becoming available in Tokyo, members can so live that the gospel will yet be embraced by many more in the Orient. This great work has just begun.

One of the best lessons on choice I learned was from my dad. Whenever the carnival came to town, I was eager for one more ride or one more something. One summer day my dad gave me a silver dollar. He said, “Go buy what you want.” That was a lot of money for me because the rides and refreshments only cost a nickel or fifteen cents back then. I remember going with my friends to the carnival. I priced everything—cotton candy, the rides, the side shows—and I figured out how many of each thing I could get. At the end of the day, I came home with my whole dollar. I had realized that it was my dollar, and it had become more valuable to me because it represented choice. By keeping the dollar, I still had the choice. Once it was gone, the choice was gone.

This is how President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) lived his life. Many years ago, I had an assignment with him. As part of the assignment, we were to be in a four-hour training meeting on a Saturday afternoon. However, he felt the prompting of the Holy Ghost to visit some people with great needs in order to lift their spirits and help them to be of good cheer. So for the first two hours, while I and other brethren were in the meeting, he was out doing good to others, ministering as the Lord did in His mortal life. President Monson joined us for the final two hours of the training meeting and did a marvelous job of teaching and training.
After the meeting, I commented on how well he taught in the meeting and then thanked him for the most powerful teaching: his example of going out and ministering to individuals, one by one. He smiled and said: “One thing about me, I am never confused about my priorities.” I thought about what he had said and after taking him to the airport and bidding him goodbye, I headed for home. Then I changed direction and went to visit a sister who was ill and needed some cheering up. Since that time, I have tried to live in my very imperfect way to be a light to others as the Savior commanded us to be and to do so in word, action, and deed.

Then-Elder Gordon B. Hinckley spoke of meeting a young naval officer from Asia. The officer had not been a Christian, but during training in the United States, he had learned about the Church and was baptized. He was now preparing to return to his native land.
President Hinckley asked the officer: “Your people are not Christians. What will happen when you return home a Christian, and, more particularly, a Mormon Christian?”
The officer’s face clouded, and he replied: “My family will be disappointed. … As for my future and my career, all opportunity may be foreclosed against me.”
President Hinckley asked, “Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel?”
With his dark eyes moistened by tears, he answered with a question: “It’s true, isn’t it?”
President Hinckley responded, “Yes, it is true.”
To which the officer replied, “Then what else matters?”

Kali walked into the lunchroom and looked around. All the other kids were running straight to their friends and sitting down at tables. The room was noisy with excited voices and happy laughter. It was only the second day of school, but it seemed like everyone had someone to sit with but Kali.
She squeezed the handle of her lunchbox and walked to one of the tables. “Can I sit by you?” Kali asked.
A girl with a long, brown braid looked up. She huffed and shook her head. “No. It’s taken,” she said.
“OK.” Kali moved to another empty seat and set down her lunchbox.
“You can’t sit here! I’m saving that seat,” a boy in a red-striped shirt said. He pushed Kali’s lunchbox onto the floor. His friends all laughed.
Kali bent down and picked up her lunchbox again. She walked across the lunchroom and sat at an empty table. She saw someone from her neighborhood and waved, but he looked the other way. Kali frowned. Why didn’t anyone want to be her friend?
Kali looked down at her food. She didn’t feel like eating anymore. She wiped her eyes, closed her lunchbox, and walked outside.
Everyone was already playing with their friends. Kali sat by herself on a bench and watched the other kids having fun without her. Then Kali noticed a boy about her age sitting alone on the grass. He was wearing a stained yellow shirt, and his hair stood up in the back.
Kali looked away. She saw a group of girls from her class playing foursquare. She wished they would invite her to play with them.
Kali looked at the boy again. His head was hanging down, and he was picking the grass around his feet. Kali remembered something Mom sometimes said: Look for the kids who are lonely.
Kali frowned. She was lonely too. Nobody was trying to be her friend!
But then Kali thought about when she got baptized last year. She promised to listen to the Holy Ghost. Maybe the Holy Ghost was helping her remember what Mom told her. Maybe the Holy Ghost was trying to tell her to play with the boy in the yellow shirt.
Kali got to her feet. A warm feeling spread in her heart. She walked over and sat next to the boy in the grass.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he mumbled back.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Um … green.”
“That’s cool. I like pink,” said Kali. “Do you have a favorite animal?”
The boy sat up a little straighter and looked at her. “Yeah. I really like dinosaurs.”
“Oh, me too. My favorite is a triceratops.”
The boy smiled.
Soon the bell rang. Kali got to her feet and waved goodbye to the boy. She smiled as she walked back to her classroom alone. She might not have a best friend, but she felt happy knowing she had made someone else’s recess a little better too.

I mention one more example of the incorrect way to accomplish home teaching. President Marion G. Romney, who was a counselor in the First Presidency some years ago, used to tell about his home teacher who once went to the Romney home on a cold winter night. He kept his hat in his hand and shifted nervously when invited to sit down and give his message. As he remained standing, he said, “Well, I’ll tell you, Brother Romney, it’s cold outside, and I left my car engine running so it wouldn’t stop. I just came by so I could tell the bishop I had made my visits.”

President Ezra Taft Benson, after relating President Romney’s experience in a meeting of priesthood holders, then said, “We can do better than that, brethren—much better!” I agree.

The girls were encouraged to think about their future goals in preparation for a very special fashion show that was also part of the conference. Each young woman either made or coordinated an outfit to wear, and as they were escorted down the runway, their achievements and dreams were capsulized by the emcee.
Amanda Wilson, 15, of the Richardson First Ward, was right in her element during this part of the day. Her mother began teaching her to sew when she was seven years old, and now you might wonder who is teaching whom. Not only did Amanda sew several outfits for the fashion show, but she designed them as well, making her own patterns.
Amanda is refining her talents now so that one day she can major in fashion merchandising and hopefully have her own designing business. But in the meantime, she uses her abilities by sewing for ward members.

A particularly special moment occurred one morning while a group of youth were in the temple. A couple entered the baptistry and asked the youth if they would be willing to perform the proxy baptisms for the woman’s sister who had passed away. Tears flowed down the couple’s cheeks as they watched a priest and young woman enter the font and perform the proxy baptism. The Spirit could be felt by everyone in the baptistry as the Holy Ghost bore witness of the importance of the work being done.

Now let me contrast Brent with Jeff, who also had turned away from the established values of society, seeking in the hippie mode of living an identity and code of conduct. Like others whose hair grows long and who sometimes leave their shoes at home, his belief that “establishment” personalities care more about appearances than about people seemed to him confirmed wherever he turned, for he was often met with scorn and rejection. He wondered in his heart how he could ever cast his lot with a society whose members seemed to care little about what he cared for, namely, the love of individual for individual.
I tried to show Jeff point by point that every good hope that he nourished for mankind could be realized only in the Savior. One day Jeff came to me utterly crushed. He had, because of his hair length, been treated with scorn and derision by a man in a position of authority. Crying softly, Jeff said, “How can I cut my hair now? I have been thinking about doing so, but if I cut it now, it will be like groveling at his feet. It would be like saying ‘I have no backbone or integrity. I am willing to do anything just because I am threatened.’ How can I cut my hair? That man has made it impossible for me to do it now.”
I offered Jeff no advice. I simply read him the following passage from First Corinthians in which Paul counsels that there is nothing intrinsically wrong with eating meat offered to idols, except as it would offend a brother’s conscience. He says:
“… take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours becomes a stumblingblock to them that are weak.
“For if any man see thee which hast knowledge sit at meat in the idol’s temple, shall not the conscience of him which is weak be emboldened to eat those things which are offered to idols;
“And through thy knowledge shall the weak brother perish, for whom Christ died?
“But when ye sin so against the brethren, and wound their weak conscience, ye sin against Christ.
“Wherefore, if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend.” (1 Cor. 8:9–13.)
Jeff brooded about these passages. They said to him: “Even though there may be no intrinsic reason why shorter hair is preferable, there is nevertheless a good reason for cutting your hair. You should cut it so you won’t be a stumblingblock for others. You should cut it so you won’t be the reason for this brother to be angry. You should cut it so others who see you won’t think you join with the general hippie culture in repudiating the morality of Jesus Christ and be encouraged, by what they think is your example, to repudiate it themselves. You should cut it for the same reason that you don’t dress in gaudy and patently materialistic clothing—because by your appearance you don’t want to encourage others in a way of life that is contrary to their consciences.”
To cut his hair under threat was one of the hardest things Jeff could have been asked to do, because in the eyes of his peers he would be seen as yielding to the threat of a member of the “establishment.” Nevertheless, the next time I saw him, his hair was cut. This was a magnificent Christian act, done wholly for others. It won’t surprise you to learn that Jeff is now on a mission, delightedly introducing to others what he has discovered.
What is the difference between Jeff and Brent? It is this: For Jeff, the gospel suddenly became a technicolor production. He had tasted its spirit. His love for the Savior had been stirred. He perceived the magnificent possibilities involved in treating other people in the way the Savior would treat them. For Jeff, the marvelous alternative of the gospel made Satan’s way of life pale by comparison. He had found another alternative besides the two choices that Brent had known. He didn’t have to choose, as did Brent, between the exciting rebelliousness of sin and the restrictions of a black-and-white, letter-of-the-law version of religion.
Suddenly for Jeff there were immediate opportunities for realization of his dreams. Suddenly the commandments of the Lord were no longer restrictive to him, for his desires, based primarily on selfish satisfactions that had put him in opposition to the Lord’s commandments, seemed to have been purged out of his soul. His will was no longer in conflict with the Lord’s; because of the power of God that had come into his heart and had purified him from selfish desires, the way was cleared for love and selflessness to become the dominant motivations of his actions. In this way he experienced for the first time the only real freedom that men can know: freedom from one’s inner enemies, one’s evil and selfish desires.
Jeff was now preoccupied not with a conflict with commandments that hedged his actions about, but with blessing people, in the course of doing which he automatically kept the commandments. In the words of the scripture, he had been dead to the spirit and alive to the law; but now he was “dead to the law” and to sin and alive to the Spirit and to the Savior. (See 2 Ne. 25:23–27.)
With this spirit, Jeff became a new person, and the fellow who used to sleep in his bed and wear his clothes—the fellow full of resentment and guilt and discontent—had somehow disappeared.

Fu Bi Hsia sprinted the last block to her home in a small Taiwanese village. The August sun poured out of the blue-glass sky, and the humid air covered her body like a hot heavy blanket. To escape the heat, she ran through the warm grass and along the edge of the benjo (open ditch) where an old woman was beating her clothes clean against a large rock.
Reaching her home, Bi Hsia paused in the front yard to look for her goose, Goldie. A few of her mother’s pigs snorted and rolled in the dirt, her father’s water buffalo lay partway in the benjo, and a stray dog nipped at her heels. But Goldie was not in sight.
Goldie and all the goose’s brothers and sisters had been purchased at the market on Bi Hsia’s ninth birthday. Over a period of many months, they had all been used for food—all except Goldie. Bi Hsia kept Goldie for a friend. They went on long walks together, clucking their way past rice fields and through ditches, walking barefoot in cold puddles, and chasing barking little dogs down narrow alleys. She had given her goose an American name, because America was so big and far away and because she believed that everyone who came from there was rich and important. Goldie was important too.
Bi Hsia bounded through the gate and up the stairs to her home. “Mother!” she called.
The two-room house was made of concrete. The main room (the living-sleeping area) was bare except for a few chairs, a television, and some rice-straw mats. These were rolled out at night and used for mattresses.
Bi Hsia found her mother in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chicken egg soup. She stuck her nose over the rim of the pot and sniffed. “Smells good.”
Her mother’s elbow nudged her aside. “Get out of there. Your father has invited guests for supper.”
“Guests? Who are they?” She stuck her finger quickly into the broth as her mother’s eyes searched the cupboard for more eggs.
“They’re Mormon elders. One is from Taipei, and the other has come all the way from America. He will be staying in Taiwan for two years to teach people about his church.”
Bi Hsia’s finger was in her mouth. She sucked the soup juice off with a loud slurp. “How did Daddy meet them?”
“At the market, quite by accident. And don’t you dare stick your finger in there again, unless you want me to spank you!”
Bi Hsia jerked her hand back. “When will they come?”
“Soon,” replied her mother. “Go get changed into your best dress. And get Sun Ming washed. He is all covered with dirt.”
The missionaries arrived in a taxi. It had a dented fender and a motor that chugged louder and louder as the car drew near. The elder from Taipei stepped out first. “I’m Elder Lin, Lin De Fu,” he said, in the custom of saying his surname before his given name. (Fu is Fu Bi Hsia’s surname.) “This is my companion, Elder Wheeler.”
“Ni hau ma (How do you do)?” Elder Wheeler stepped forward and offered his hand to Bi Hsia’s father. The American’s words sounded strange and stilted, and his thin face seemed hard and expressionless. His hair was like yellow rice straw, and his pale eyes were cold and as far away as the country he came from. Bi Hsia felt her throat tighten with apprehension.
Her father spoke up boldly. “Ni tsung nali lai (Where are you from)?”
“Utah.”
It was a strange name. Bi Hsia said it quietly to herself, over and over, Yu ta. Yu ta.
Her mother smiled, saying in Chinese, “It’s a long way for anyone to come.”
The elder’s brow wrinkled as he studied her face. “Pardon me. I do not understand.”
Elder Lin put his hand on Elder Wheeler’s shoulder and said something to him in English, too rapidly for Bi Hsia to understand. Elder Wheeler listened intently, then laughed at himself. “Yes. A long way.”
The adults moved into the kitchen. Bi Hsia sat on the back step to wait for them to eat their meal. It was not considered polite for children to be served with the guests. She held Sun Ming in her arms, listened to the murmur of their voices, and thought about the faraway places she had never been. She wondered if this elder would ever understand her country’s customs and accept her people as they were. She didn’t think so—not coming from America, where no one ever had to live without the necessities of life because people there always had lots of things of their very own.
Bi Hsia sat and reflected, and in the distance a light evening breeze tossed a weightless white feather in the air. A feather! She got up, paused for a moment, then placed Sun Ming on the grass at her feet. “Now don’t go anywhere,” she said firmly. “I won’t be gone long.”
All of Goldie’s feathers were there in a little pile by the garden. Bi Hsia knew that they were eating her goose for supper. It was not proper for her to object. Her family was very poor, and her mother needed meat to serve to the guests. Chinese custom was very strict about children honoring and obeying their parents. And Chinese pride was firm on the point of offering the best that one could.
Bi Hsia did not cry. She walked heavily, as if her limbs were lead weights. She sat on the porch for what seemed like forever and watched the sun die in the sky above Taiwan.
When the elders were ready to leave, Bi Hsia followed them out to the front of the house. The elder from America offered her his hand, and she wanted to hold hers back. He took it and squeezed, and she pulled quickly away. He reached down and lifted her chin. “I hope we can become friends,” he said in slow, painful words.
Bi Hsia kept her eyes turned away from his face, looking past him to where the lights from the houses on their street shone smaller and smaller as they receded into the distance. Her mouth remained silent, bur her heart thumped loudly inside her ribs. Never! Oh, never, never, she thought, knowing that if it wasn’t for him and his companion, she would still have Goldie. She watched the elders get into a taxi, and she was glad when it drove away.
Bi Hsia awoke early the next morning. The sun was just peeping through the sugar cane, and her parents and brother were still asleep on their mats. She rose quietly and tiptoed to the door. Outside there was a small scrape, the sound of quick footsteps on the porch, a whisper, and a wild, hissing sound. She opened the door.
At her feet lay a huge white goose, the biggest that she had ever seen. It was bound so that it could hardly move, but its head was free, and it was honking and trying to flap its wings. As she bent to free it, out of the corner of her eye she saw something move down by the benjo.
It was Elder Wheeler! He was sprinting across the grass toward Elder Lin, who waited on the road with two bikes. As Bi Hsia watched, Elder Wheeler reached his bike, paused for a breath of air, and glanced back. Their eyes met across the distance and held. Then a smile spread slowly across his somber face. It was a sad, happy smile, a smile filled with understanding. That’s when Fu Bi Hsia knew for certain that the elder from America was not so very different.

Thank you for the articles in the New Era. I’ve recently been having a hard time both at church and at school. The people at school who I thought were my friends are constantly making fun of me. At church, it’s a number of things. But mainly the young women of the ward always act like I don’t exist. Because of this, I feel like I’m growing away from the Church. One of the only things keeping me near the Church is the New Era. Thank you.
Name WithheldIllinois

At a nursing home on First South, we might interrupt, as I did a few years ago, a professional football game. There, before the TV, were seated two widows. They were warmly and beautifully dressed—and absorbed in the game. I asked, “Who’s winning?” They responded, “We don’t even know who’s playing, but at least it’s company.” I sat between those two angels and explained the game of football. I enjoyed the best contest I can remember. I may have missed a meeting, but I harvested a memory.

My husband is a furniture maker. Although it has often been difficult to find employment in the Philippines, the Lord has blessed us.
One day when our finances were very low, my husband was working in a furniture shop making tables and chairs. I met him at work and told him we had nothing at home to eat. He told me to meet him at the market that evening when he got off work. He would ask his employer for an advance payment so we could buy some rice for dinner.
When we met that afternoon, he told me he had been advanced 50 pesos, just enough to help us get by. But when we tried to pay for the rice, he could not find the money in his pocket. We went back to the furniture shop to look for it, but nobody had seen the money. As we walked home without food or money, my husband was angry and frustrated. I tried to help him calm down, telling him to trust in the Lord. That night I prayed the Lord would help us find the money.
The next morning as my husband and daughter, Jennilyn, walked out the front door, Jennilyn saw something on the doorstep—it was the 50 pesos. I was overjoyed and grateful to Heavenly Father for making it possible for us to eat. I know if we do our part and then trust in Him, Heavenly Father will be merciful and show compassion to us.

Just last year I decided to see how many residential dwellings were still standing from the period between 1950 and 1955 when I served as bishop of that same area. I drove slowly around each of the blocks that once comprised the ward. I was surprised to observe in my search that of all the houses and apartment buildings where our 1,080 members had lived, only three dwellings were still standing. At one of those houses, the grass was overgrown, the trees unpruned, and I found no one was living there. Of the other two houses remaining, one was boarded up and unoccupied, and the other housed some sort of a modest business office.
I parked my car, turned off the ignition, and just sat there for a long while. I could picture in my mind each house, each apartment building, each member who lived there. While the homes and the buildings were gone, the memories were still very vivid concerning the families who resided in each dwelling. I thought of the words of the author James Barrie, who wrote that God gave us memories that we might have June roses in the December of our lives.2 How grateful I was for the opportunity to serve in that assignment. Such can be the blessing of each of us if we put forth in our assignments our very best efforts.

When the full-time missionaries came to my home in France to do a service project, my parents were not active members of the Church, and I hadn’t been baptized. Soon the missionaries taught me the gospel, which I loved. And soon my parents returned to church.
“Who’s going to baptize you?” the missionaries asked me.
“My father,” I replied.
My father, who was from Italy, was a good man. He taught me to see people as Jesus would see them. Sadly, he died a few weeks before my baptism.
Later, when I received my mission call, I was so excited that I asked my mother to open it.
“You’re going to be happy,” she said, crying. “You’re going to your father’s home country!”
I had dreamt of serving in Italy. Missions are about serving people, not about serving in areas. But I prayed that I would serve in Italy, specifically the city of Gaeta, where my father’s ancestors had lived since the 10th century.
After serving in Rome and Sicily, I received the glad news that I was being transferred to the area that included Gaeta. Before that transfer in early 2023, my companion and great friend Elder Jack Beck gave me a gift I will never forget. Elder Beck is a talented artist. From a small picture I had of my father, Elder Beck drew a beautiful portrait of him.
I looked at that portrait every day during personal study. It gave me strength to share the gospel.
As soon as I was assigned to Gaeta, I sought out my relatives. When I showed my father’s older brother the portrait, he wept. He hadn’t seen his brother for years and had no pictures of him.
I taught my uncle that one day he would see his brother again—not in a portrait but in person. I taught him that through the gospel, he could live with his brother again in love and peace with the Savior.
I saw great miracles in Gaeta as I shared with family members the good news that because Jesus Christ overcame death, loss of loved ones is only temporary (see Mosiah 16:8). I testify that through His atoning sacrifice, the Savior has made it possible for our families to be gathered eternally.

Twenty-one years later in the spring of 1876 Dr. Maeser, who had immigrated to the United States, was teaching school in the 20th Ward schoolhouse in Salt Lake City when a blast destroyed the building. Reporting the explosion to President Brigham Young, Karl said the school would have to be closed.
“That is exactly right, Brother Maeser,” President Young replied, “for I have another mission for you.” And that is how Karl G. Maeser was told of his call to establish the Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.

Rodrigo Fontt of Osorno, Chile, has experienced the fulfillment of prophecy. His life has been changed just the way President Gordon B. Hinckley said lives would be changed when he announced the Perpetual Education Fund (PEF) to the Church three years ago.
While serving in the Chile Santiago West Mission, Brother Fontt worked in the mission office, where he learned what it was like to work in an administrative position. He enjoyed it, but in 2000, a year before the announcement of the Perpetual Education Fund, Brother Fontt returned home where he faced limited prospects for the future. Many returned missionaries around the world find themselves in similar situations. They have the desire but not the skills needed to rise above the poverty they and their progenitors have experienced.
Applicants to the program take a course called “Planning for Success.” In the course, many of them discover that they can achieve their goals without needing a loan. After hearing about the program and taking the course, Brother Fontt qualified and applied for a PEF loan and began working toward a degree in finance and administration. Though he now has a wife and young child and is working full-time to support them, he is currently in the third year of his educational program. He has become a leader in the Church, serving as bishop of the Antillanca Ward, Osorno Chile Stake.
Bishop Fontt is just one of many working hard to improve their lives. With his education, he and his wife feel that they are progressing not only temporally but also spiritually. They are achieving goals they would not have otherwise been able to reach.

I used to be the type of girl that wore 10 different rings on each hand, 15 or more gold and silver necklaces around my neck, and twice as many bracelets around my wrists and ankles.
My makeup was just as heavily caked on as my jewelry, and my layers of black and white clothing piled up as well.
I was not only weighed down on the outside, but on the inside as well. I was constantly depressed, and I felt down on myself for no reason.
I had been reading the Book of Mormon for some time, but as I kept piling on the jewelry, makeup, and clothing a passage from Isaiah in 2 Nephi kept running through my mind:
“In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments, and cauls, and round tires like the moon;
“The chains and the bracelets, and the mufflers;
“The bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the ear-rings;
“The rings, and nose jewels;
“The changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping-pins” (2 Ne. 13:18–22).
It goes on to say that even the daughters of Zion will be bald, and smell, and wear sackcloth instead of fine clothing.
I decided that if it might all be taken away eventually, why not try to go without it now? So little bit by little bit, more and more jewelry came off each day. I turned to more natural-looking makeup and simplified my clothing.
As the weight from my accessories on the outside came off, so did the weight on the inside. My spirit seemed to be coming uncovered and letting my personality and love show through. I had not felt so happy inside since before I can remember. My friends even commented that I was a lot more fun to be with lately.
I found myself to be much more compatible. I could hardly believe the feeling of happiness and love that seemed to encircle me.
I am so thankful for those few verses. They helped me get rid of the burdening “weight” that was inside of me and let my spirits soar higher than they ever had before.