Gospel Story Finder

Let me tell what really happens when missionaries serve.
We had a neighbor boy who regularly passed our place headed for the mailbox, impatiently awaiting his letter of call. It seemed unusually long in coming after his recommendation was sent in. I observed this scene the day his letter came. He opened it at the mailbox, called his friend over, and they rejoiced together. Then he figuratively bounced down the lane to share the good news with his family. A few minutes later his sixteen-year-old sister came strolling by, headed home. I merely mentioned in a greeting that her brother had received his mission call. She instantly changed her pace and ran all the way home to join in the excitement of her brother’s call. Think of the anticipation, the joy, that gladdens hundreds of homes and hundreds of hearts each week—for this is a family call.

The Prophet was then inspired to raise money to purchase Chandler’s mummies and the accompanying papyri, even though he did not know exactly what the writings would disclose. Kirtland Saints contributed the funds for the purchase. The price was $2,400—not an inconsequential sum at the time, considering that the Kirtland Temple was under construction, but the faith of members who knew the Prophet and his works led them to help.4

The Prophet recorded: “With W W. Phelps and Oliver Cowdery as scribes, [I] commenced the translation of some of the characters or hieroglyphics, and much to our joy found that one of the rolls contained the writings of Abraham, another the writings of Joseph of Egypt, etc., a more full account of which will appear in their place, as I proceed to examine or unfold them. Truly can we say, the Lord is beginning to reveal the abundance of peace and truth.”5

As identical twins, we’ve always had a lot in common. Growing up, we both loved swimming and joined a competitive swim team at six years old. The heart-racing feeling before each race was exhilarating. Unfortunately, that exciting feeling quickly turned to fear about how we looked in our swimsuits. For both of us, our appearance started to creep to the forefront of our every thought.
In middle school, we each filled journals with weight-loss goals, food logs, and our most beauty-obsessed thoughts—stacked on shelves next to teen magazines promoting the latest fashion and beauty fixes.
At age 15, we both quit swimming—not because we hated to swim but because we hated the way we looked in our swimsuits. Our years of relentlessly trying to “fix” our bodies simply hadn’t worked.
What we didn’t realize then is that our bodies were never the problem. The problem was our body image, or the way we viewed and thought about our bodies. It had been skewed by all kinds of influences, including movies, TV, magazines, and even friends and family who learned from all of these same sources.
After years of struggling, things changed. We even started swimming again. But it wasn’t dieting or makeovers that did the trick—it was learning how our skewed views of our bodies had held us back in every way. Our research has showed us that developing positive body image—or feeling good about your body from the inside, not just how it looks—is a key to health, happiness, and seeing ourselves as God sees us.

It was just before Christmas, and I knew I had things others could use. Room by room I went through the house, finding items we could donate to Deseret Industries. When it was finally time to go through our bedroom, my husband and I headed for our closet. We looked through our clothing.
“I don’t have anything this time,” I told him. “Do you?”
David put a number of shirts in a pile and found some shoes he no longer wore.
“What about this suit?” he asked. I had helped him pick it out years ago for a job interview. It still looked brand new.
“Honey, what do you think? It doesn’t fit anymore.”
“But it’s still like new,” I said.
“I really feel this suit needs to go,” David said. He took it from the closet.
As much as I liked the suit on him, he did have another, and after he tried this one on, I could see that it barely fit him now. I carefully laid it across the donation pile, but I didn’t feel right. Something was nagging at me. The suit didn’t belong there, and I knew it.
David went to his ties. He was ruthless in his weeding. He pulled out several and laid them with the suit, but that didn’t feel right to me either.
The suit in the pile interrupted my sleep. I wondered what was wrong with me to worry so much about a suit that didn’t fit and a bunch of old ties.
The following morning I looked at the pile of clothes. Again so strongly came the feeling that the suit didn’t belong. I took it off the pile and laid it on the bed along with some ties. After putting everything else into bags, I again looked at the suit. “Whom is it for?” I didn’t know.
I knelt beside the bed and prayed. I went to my desk and tried to think. My husband and I were the young adult leaders in the ward, so we knew who the next missionary was. It would be a while before he left. He also had a steady job, so getting a new suit wouldn’t be a problem. I called my bishop but got the answering machine.
Then there was a knock at the door. Opening the door, I was startled.
“Hi, Sister Ries,” the missionaries serving in our ward smiled.
A chill of sudden knowledge ran through me. “I don’t believe this” was all I could say. “Please stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Excitedly, I raced up the stairs while the elders laughed at my strange greeting. Such joy filled me as I brought down the suit.
“It’s a size 40 jacket,” I said, “and the pants are 33–32.” I looked at one elder, hoping.
The missionary’s face lit up. “I’m a size 40 and a 33–30 in slacks.” His face softened. “My parents and I had been praying that I’d find a suit to finish out my mission. I’ve got a little time left, and I’ve nearly worn this one clear through.”
The faithful elder accepted Heavenly Father’s gift of the suit and ties gratefully, and after I closed my door, I again went to my bedroom to kneel and thank Heavenly Father for the love He has for His children. He always listens to prayers.

Glancing back over his shoulder across two hundred yards of dry powdery snow, Brian could hardly believe he had lengthened the distance between himself and the nearest challenger.
Tom Stacy was trying hard to repeat his last two wins in the annual cross-country ski race. But Brian was trying just as hard to capture the championship that had eluded him twice before. Realizing there was less than a mile to go, Brian was confident that Tom had little chance of catching up.
Listening to the soft shush, shush of his skis, Brian watched the clouds boiling over the hills and across the valley. The sky seemed to be getting darker and heavier by the minute.
It could be a whopper, he thought. But it’s probably a couple of hours away. Then his thinking drifted to Tom and how disappointed he would be at his failure to make three wins in a row. This was the last year Tom and Brian would be eligible for this particular race. After the ski season they would both be past the age limit. It was Brian’s last and only hope for a win which, he remembered bitterly, he might have had last year except for a stupid mistake.
Coming in ahead of Tom would be final proof of his skill. They were both good skiers. But then, Tom was good at everything he tried—swimming, running, jumping, and all kinds of team sports. Brian, though not inept, had never been outstanding in any of those things. But when he started skiing he discovered he had an unusual talent for it.
Casting another look backwards, he saw the space between himself and Tom hadn’t changed. As he rounded the brow of a hill, Brian noticed a small dark object in the snow ahead but he paid little attention. He kept his even, steady stride, not easing up or increasing his lead. Though it seemed unlikely, with a superhuman burst of speed Tom could overtake him.
Brian couldn’t help watching the dark object in the snow ahead. Then he saw it move and his curiosity was heightened. When he came closer, he found that a dog was struggling to get through the snow, but it was making little headway through the powdery drifts.
Brian tried to offer some encouragement to the dog as he passed by. “Come on, boy. You can make it,” he coaxed.
Hearing Brian’s voice, the animal looked up with a beaten, hopeless expression. The dog whined, a pathetic, pleading sound as forlorn as its expression.
Glancing from the stricken animal to the finish line ahead, Brian convinced himself the dog likely belonged to one of the nearby farms and, in spite of its painfully slow progress, should be able to get home.
He went on a few feet and the dog whined again. When he turned around, Brian was met with an expression even more pathetic than before. “You little mutt,” he said dismally. “Why do you have to keep looking at me that way?”
Sidestepping back, he made a quick decision and weighed his chances of carrying the dog to the finish line before Tom caught up. It might be a tip-to-tip race after all, but Brian still felt capable of winning.
It wasn’t until he knelt down that he discovered the dog was favoring one foot, trying to struggle through the snow on three legs. As Brian took the leg to examine it, the dog yelped with pain.
“Oh, oh, fella,” he said. “You’re in trouble.”
Tom had already cut the distance between them in half. The storm, too, was getting closer and uglier and might easily turn into a blizzard.
Brian picked the dog up in his arms. “Come on,” he said hoarsely. “We’ll win this race together.”
After another two or three hundred yards, however, it was plain they wouldn’t be able to do it. The dog was too heavy. It had already slowed Brian so much he could hear Tom’s skis behind him, sliding over the snow. At this rate he might not even come in second because the next racer wasn’t too far behind Tom.
No more than a minute later, Tom’s skis were even with Brian’s.
“What are you trying to do,” Tom asked, when he saw Brian carrying the dog, “give me a handicap?”
There was no taunt in the way he said it and Brian knew it was an offhand, spur-of-the-moment remark. Then Tom slowed and asked seriously, “What’s the matter with the dog?”
“It’s hurt, Tom,” Brian said. “I’ll bet its leg’s broken.”
Tom came to a complete stop and asked with sincere interest, “Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. He can’t move it at all, and the little fella yelps whenever I touch it.”
Tom shot a look backward at their nearest pursuer, who was gaining rapidly.
“Take off your coat, Brian.”
“What for?”
“Just take if off,” Tom repeated, at the same time unsnapping his own parka. He laid it out on the snow and asked Brian to do the same, then he lapped them across one another. As Brian settled the dog gently on the makeshift sling, Tom carefully wrapped the trembling body. Then he worked the coats around until the snapped sides were underneath, providing a snug, hammocklike cradle.
“Grab the sleeves on your side, Brian.”
Brian picked up two sleeves and Tom held the sleeves on the opposite side. By the time they started again, their closest competitor was a scant hundred yards away.
Matching strides, the boys kept together as they approached the group of people waiting at the finish line, their pursuer still too far behind to catch up with them.
“If you cross that line one inch ahead of me,” Tom teased as they neared the end of the race, “I’ll wring your neck.”
“I won’t,” promised Brian, smiling.
The tips of their skis crossed the finish line so close together that the judges had no choice but to call the race a dead heat.
“I wouldn’t have believed it could happen,” the official said, but the expression on his face showed that he was glad about the way the race turned out. “I guess the only thing we can do,” he added, “is to let you share the trophy. I suggest we flip a coin to see who gets it first.”
“That’s all right with me,” Tom said.
“Okay with me too,” Brian agreed, grinning broadly.
It wasn’t exactly the kind of win either of them would have preferred, but Brian couldn’t help feeling a warm satisfaction as he and Tom watched one of the cars drive away to take the dog to a veterinarian.

As a teenager in Matsumoto, Japan, I was very interested in learning English. At age 17 I joined the English club at my high school. At the start of the school year, the club decided to find a native English speaker to teach us English conversation. We searched and searched, but the English instructors we spoke to charged a fee, and the club couldn’t afford to pay. Discouraged, we almost gave up.
Then one day, as I rode my bicycle to school, I saw some young American men in suits handing out flyers. I took one and put it in my pocket. After school I examined the paper and found that it was an invitation to attend a free English conversation class. On the flyer was the name “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” I had never heard of such a church, but I was excited; I had solved the English club’s problem!
On the day of the next class, about 30 club members attended with me. The missionaries taught the class, which we all enjoyed very much. From the very first day of class, I noticed that there was something different about the missionaries. Their warmth, love, positive attitudes, and cheerfulness deeply impressed me. There seemed to be a light around them—I had never before met anyone quite like them.
After several weeks I began asking the missionaries about their church, and they invited me to learn more. I accepted, and they taught me the missionary lessons. At the time I did not fully understand or appreciate the importance of what I was learning, but I felt the Spirit, and I understood that the principles the missionaries were teaching me were good. When they invited me to be baptized, I accepted.
Before I could join the Church, however, I had to receive my parents’ consent. At first they were very much against it—the teachings of Christianity were foreign and strange to them. But I was not yet ready to give up. I asked the missionaries to come to my home and explain to my parents about the Church, what they had been teaching me, and what would be expected of me. The Spirit softened my parents’ hearts, and this time they gave me permission to be baptized.
After I was baptized and confirmed, I attended the little Matsumoto Branch of 12 to 15 active members. I made friends, and it was fun to attend every week. About a year later I graduated from high school and moved to Yokohama to attend the university. The nearest branch was the Tokyo Central Branch, which had more than 150 active members. When I attended this new branch, I felt like a country boy in the big city. I had a hard time making friends. One Sunday I stayed home from church. Soon I stopped attending altogether. I began making friends with my nonmember classmates, and the Church drifted further and further from my mind.
This continued for several months. Then one day I received a letter from a sister in the Matsumoto Branch. “I heard you have stopped attending church,” she said. I was surprised. Apparently someone from my new branch had told her I was not attending church anymore! The sister continued her letter by quoting Doctrine and Covenants 121:34: “Behold, there are many called, but few are chosen.” Then she wrote, “Koichi, you have been baptized a member of the Church. You have been called, but you are no longer among the chosen.”
As I read these words, I was filled with regret. I knew I needed to change somehow. I realized that I did not have a strong testimony. I wasn’t sure if God lived, and I didn’t know if Jesus Christ was my Savior. For several days I grew anxious as I thought about the message in the letter. I didn’t know what to do. Then one morning I remembered something the missionaries had taught me. They had asked me to read Moroni 10:3–5, promising that I could know the truth for myself. I decided that I must pray. If I felt nothing, I could completely forget about the Church and the commandments, and I would never go again. However, if I did receive an answer, as Moroni promised, I would have to repent, embrace the gospel with all my heart, go back to church, and do all I could to follow the commandments.
As I knelt and prayed that morning, I pleaded with Heavenly Father to answer me. “If Thou live—if Thou are real,” I prayed, “please let me know.” I prayed to know if Jesus Christ was my Savior and if the Church was true. As I finished, I suddenly felt something. I was surrounded by a warm feeling, and my heart was filled with joy. I understood the truth: God does live, and Jesus is my Savior. The Lord’s Church was truly restored by the Prophet Joseph Smith, and the Book of Mormon is the word of God.
Needless to say, I prayed for forgiveness that very day and resolved to follow the commandments. I returned to church and promised the Lord that I would do whatever it took to remain faithful.
A short time later the Church began making plans to build a chapel in Yokohama. At that time members of the branch were expected to contribute money and provide labor for the building’s construction. When the mission president challenged the branch members to contribute all they could, I remembered my commitment to do whatever the Lord asked of me. So every day for nearly a year, I helped with the construction after my university classes were over.
About this same time, Elder Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), then of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, visited Japan and encouraged the youth of the Church to achieve four goals: (1) receive as much higher education as possible, (2) serve a full-time mission, especially the young men, (3) marry in the temple, and (4) gain skills to support a family. Until that point I had never planned to accomplish these four things. But I later knelt and prayed: “Heavenly Father, I want to accomplish those four goals. Please help me.”
I knew that in order to stay on the path of the chosen, I needed to follow the counsel of the Lord’s servants. I committed to do all I could to follow Elder Kimball’s advice and to work hard to build up the Church.
For the next several years I continued to work toward my four goals. I served as a construction missionary for two years, helping build two chapels in my home country. Then I was called to serve a full-time proselytizing mission. Soon after returning home, I married in the temple the woman from the Matsumoto Branch who wrote me the letter. Later I landed my dream job in a foreign trading company. As I followed the word of the Lord and the counsel of the prophets, I felt that again I was on the path of the chosen. And I am striving to stay on that path today.

Some years ago I was invited to speak to a group of faculty and students at Harvard University. I, of course, hoped that the gospel message would be accepted and that our meeting would end in a harmony of views. As I prayed that this might result, there came to me a strong impression that this petition would not be granted.

I determined that, however preposterous the talk about angels and golden plates and restoration might be to my audience, I would teach the truth with quiet confidence, for I have a testimony of the truth. If some must come from the meeting unsettled and disturbed, it would not be me. Let them be disturbed, if they would.

It was as the Spirit foretold. Some in the group shook their heads in amazement that anyone could believe such things. But I was at peace. I had taught the truth, and they could accept it or reject it as they pleased.

It took gallons of chicken stew, plus mass quantities of bread and fresh fruit to feed the needy at a park in California, but the youth of the Bakersfield Stake were more than eager to provide it.
“This project was entirely the brainchild of the youth council,” said Marcus Asay, high council coordinator of the activity. “Helping the poor and homeless was something they really wanted to do.”
Over 100 Young Men and Young Women, plus their leaders, prepared and distributed the meal to the needy and collected clothing and canned goods for them as well.

Sophie helped Mama clean their home. The missionaries were visiting today. They were welcome visitors in Sophie’s home in Colombia. Mama prepared a special meal: tamales, rice, and corn with peppers.
The missionaries had taught Sophie’s family about Jesus Christ and His Church. Just two weeks ago Elder Kraig and his new companion, Elder Jessen, had baptized Sophie, her parents, and her two older brothers. Already, Sophie felt the difference in their family. There was more laughing, singing, and praying.
During the meal Sophie listened to her parents and brothers discuss the scriptures with the missionaries. After the dishes were cleared away, Elder Kraig said, “I will be going home next week.”
Sophie hadn’t realized he would be leaving so soon. Tears crowded the corners of her eyes. Sophie glanced at her brothers. They were near tears too.
Elder Kraig sniffled a couple of times. “I have something for you,” he said to Papa. He pulled a package from his backpack. “These are for you and your sons.”
Papa opened the box and pulled out six white Sunday shirts. For a long moment he was silent. “We cannot accept so fine a gift,” he said at last.
Sophie heard the regret in Papa’s voice. Their family did not have white shirts for Papa and the boys, and Sophie knew Papa wanted to show respect by dressing in white shirts when they went to church.
“I will not need so many shirts when I go home,” Elder Kraig said. “You will be doing me a favor by keeping them.”
“But I have nothing for you,” Papa said. He pointed to the Book of Mormon. “You have already given us the most precious gift. You brought us the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
The next day Sophie decided to make something for Elder Kraig. After talking with Mama, she decided to make a small woven blanket called a serape. She borrowed her mother’s loom, chose the colors of yarn, and worked on it each day after school and chores. When her fingers fumbled, she carefully undid the strands and started over.
At last the serape was finished. She hoped Elder Kraig would like the colors she had woven together. She wrapped the serape in brown paper.
On the day of Elder Kraig’s last visit to their home, Sophie presented her gift.
“Thank you, Sophie,” Elder Kraig said. Tears shone in his eyes. “I will never forget you or your family.”
“And we will never forget you,” Sophie said.

After the Dortmund conference, while most of the group returned to the United States, President Kimball, President Tanner, and their wives, and a few others traveled to Bern, Switzerland. Here the two members of the First Presidency were busy for an additional day and a half in the Swiss Temple. They had been traveling now for 14 days while participating in the five area conferences. They had been going unceasingly when we boarded a bus at Bern to go to Zurich where we were to catch our flight to New York and then on to Salt Lake. I saw President Kimball’s exceptional enthusiasm in action again.
There had been 14 days of going, going, going, and in the 30 hours ahead there would be no opportunity for the prophet to go to bed or really relax. On the bus most of us leaned back in our seats and began to nap. I was seated behind President Kimball and expected that he would use the next hour for some well-deserved rest. We had not quite reached the autobahn when President Kimball stood up and made his way up the aisle to a jump seat next to the bus driver. As I sat in my seat feeling almost exhausted, our prophet, who had reason to be more tired than anyone else, couldn’t rest because there was a person on that bus who hadn’t been taught the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I watched what happened, I had a feeling of guilt—I had been content to sit back and relax, but the prophet, realizing the transcending importance of missionary work, didn’t let weariness dampen his burning desire to share the gospel with others.
I wondered how he was going to talk with the bus driver who seemed to speak little English. President Kimball doesn’t speak German. Initially there was some difficulty as they tried to speak to one another. After only a few minutes, however, the two of them were obviously quite able to understand each other. Now my worry was transferred from how they would communicate with each other to whether the bus driver, while glancing frequently at President Kimball, would be able to keep the bus on the road. It was clear that he understood and was interested in President Kimball’s sincere message. Their conversation continued until we reached the outskirts of Zurich when President Kimball returned to his seat.
When the bus pulled up at the Zurich airport, President Gary E. O’Brian, president of the Zurich Switzerland Mission, was waiting on the curb. President Kimball went to the door of the bus as it opened. He asked President O’Brian to step on the bus, and while shaking hands with him, said, “President O’Brian, this is Mr. __________. Will you promise me you will teach him the gospel?” President O’Brian said, “Yes, President.” And then President Kimball said, “Mr. __________, this is one of our mission presidents. Will you let him teach you the gospel of Jesus Christ?” The bus driver nodded his head and said he would.
This experience really taught me the importance of sharing the gospel. Our prophet is in close communication with our Heavenly Father and sees beyond the veil much more clearly than I do. He puts this degree of urgency on missionary work. Even when he has every reason to be tired, when sitting back and resting would seem to be a valid excuse for passing up a missionary opportunity, President Kimball continues to be a vigorous missionary. How can you or I do less than share the gospel with our families, our neighbors, our friends, and everyone else we meet?

The Holy Ghost will also help you to do what is right, even when that seems very difficult. I hope you children will never be afraid to stand up for what is right. I still remember an experience I had in primary school. Primary school includes first through seventh grades. When I was about 12 and in my final year of primary school, the head boy, who was supposed to be the school leader, was actually the school’s biggest bully. He and three or four of his pals would go around teasing other kids.
I was new at the school, so one day he tried to intimidate me. When he discovered I would not respond to his intimidation, he gave up and bullied other kids, especially the weaker ones. One day when I saw this happening, I walked over and told him to stop. I said that if he did not stop I would defend the smaller boy. There stood the bully with his three or four friends, surrounding this small, timid boy and myself. It was very scary. I thought they were going to beat me up. To my surprise, the bully withered under my words. He and his friends made some smart remarks and left.
Throughout the rest of the year I continued to defend other boys from these bullies. Others started to do so too, until the bullies gradually lost all their power and influence. Children, the lesson I learned from this experience was that when we do things for the right reason, even when it is very difficult, the Lord will bless us and help us. He needs courageous people to stand up and defend what is right and reduce the influence of evil. You are never too young to begin doing so. When you stand for what is right, you will discover that good triumphs.

I am a student. I am a seminary teacher. I am a full-time employee. And I am also a youth Sunday School teacher. Sometimes it feels like I’m always rushing to make time for all my responsibilities.
When I got my calling to teach on Sundays in addition to teaching in seminary, I followed a strict, busy routine for weeks. Things were going well for a while. But after a few months, everything suddenly became too much to bear. I found myself very exhausted and overwhelmed with all I had to do. There were times I simply wanted to give up my callings because they were too much to handle with school and a full-time job.
I also felt like I wasn’t doing a good job in my callings. While I considered asking to be released, the idea broke my heart.
My heavy thoughts and feelings made me feel like I was about to explode. One night while crying because of these overwhelming feelings, I felt so alone and unsure of what to do.
I prayed sincerely for help and direction. I also asked for priesthood blessings for comfort and strength. Ultimately, I realized I had been so occupied with worries and everything else in my life that I had forgotten how my Church callings actually helped me find rest and also connect with the Spirit when I needed it the most.
After realizing this, I knew that asking to be released was not the right choice for me. But Heavenly Father helped me see how I could adjust and simplify my schedule.
Relying on His guidance has helped me make my routine less stressful. As President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, reminded us, “While there may be times when our Church callings require more intense effort and unusual focus, we need to strive to keep things in proper balance.”2
I am so grateful for the opportunities I have to serve in the gospel of Jesus Christ, especially now that Heavenly Father has led me and helped me simplify my life.
Abegail P., Camarines Norte, Philippines

Heidi Tuttle, now Heidi Kim, says her perspective has changed tremendously in 15 years.

“When I was 17, I didn’t see the whole picture,” she says as her toddler son, Kennan, dashes by in red overalls. She scoops him up and kisses the top of his head as he squirms away.

“After my mission to Korea and getting married, I realized the gospel and my family are what’s most important,” Heidi says, as she looks proudly at her husband who is singing Kennan a special song in Korean.

Karen pulled the twine off the bale of hay and hung it on a fence post.
“You do that pretty well for a shorty,” said Josh as he dropped the last bale by the manger.
“I could do the whole job by myself if I wanted to,” Karen snapped. “And if everyone weren’t in such a hurry to read scriptures before breakfast, I would too.”
“Oh, don’t get your feathers all fluffed up,” Josh said with a grin. “What’s the matter, don’t you like stories about the Nephites and Lamanites?”
“I just don’t see why I have to work so hard at studying scriptures. I’ll never be struck down by an angel for preaching against the Church like Alma the Younger. And I sure hope I’ll never be burned at the stake like Abinadi.”
Josh sat down on a hay bale, took off his gloves, and shook out the leaves and chaff.
“You’ve got to apply the scriptures to your own life,” he said. “Take the story of Abinadi: the Lord is just showing us how important it is to speak up for the truth, even if we get into trouble for it.”
“I suppose you’re right as usual, big brother,” sighed Karen.
“Of course I am,” agreed Josh good-naturedly. “You can understand your own problems a lot better if you see how people in the scriptures acted.”
“Well, we’ll never make it back in time if you sit there holding down that bale all morning,” said Karen, pitching a forkful of hay to the waiting cows. “I bet I can feed these cows and be in the house before you can get the calves fed.”
“All right, Shorty, you’re on,” Josh said, pulling on his gloves. “See you later.”
“Don’t call me Shorty!” shouted Karen. But Josh was already over the stackyard fence and gone.
Karen worked so quickly that she was soon feeling warm in spite of the cold wind. She was tempted to stop and take off her coat, but she didn’t want to waste any time.
The sun eased over the hill and shot spears of light into the ragged clouds. A flock of blackbirds sailed into an elm tree, where they flapped and chattered to each other.
Karen tossed the remaining hay into the manger. Most of it landed on the cows’ heads since they were too hungry to move out of the way.
The shortest path to the house was through the barnyard. But the melting snow and the thawing ground had left knee-deep manure that was soupy and smelly.
Karen thought about taking the long way around the barn, but finally decided to walk the pole fence that divided the barnyard from the holding corral. Last summer she had walked along the top of the fence until she could almost run without tripping. But during the winter the snow and ice had made the fence so slippery that she had not tried for several months. But this is an emergency, she thought. Besides, the ice is gone so I won’t slip.
The going wasn’t easy. She was not very nimble in her heavy boots, and her winter coat made it difficult to maneuver around the fence posts. She spread out her arms to balance herself and watched each step—left, right, left, right. It’s too late to turn back now, she decided.
Suddenly the treaded sole of her boot caught on a knot in the wood. Karen grabbed wildly at the air and then landed on her back in the oozing barnyard.
“Eeeyuck!” she groaned, staggering to her feet and flipping some of the soggy manure from her hands. “Talk about stinking to high heaven,” she grumbled.
The barn steps were only a few yards away so she waded through the muck and went inside. No one was there. Gary, her younger brother, must have finished setting up the milkers and gone to the house.
Karen turned on the hose that was used to clean the barn after milking. The water was cold, but at least she could wash off most of the guck before she had to go to the house.
I wish a big hole would just open up right here and swallow me, thought Karen as she hosed off her jeans. I won’t even be able to get on the porch like this. Everyone’d smell me coming. They can probably smell me right now!
But no one except Josh was on the porch when Karen opened the door. “Don’t laugh or I’ll clobber you,” she hissed.
Josh was almost too amazed to laugh—almost. “You fell into the manure,” he chuckled. “What are you going to do now?”
“Just once would you be a little sympathetic and give me some help?” Karen pleaded.
“All right,” said Josh, taking off his coat. “Lay your dirty clothes inside the doorway and I’ll put them in the washer.”
Karen pulled off her boots and stepped behind a screen. She put her clothes on a chair and wrapped herself in one of Dad’s big coats.
“One more thing, Josh. Check and see if there is anyone in the bathroom. I’ll watch through the door. If by some miracle it’s empty, then give me a wave.”
Josh gingerly picked up the clothes and walked down the hall to the laundry room. As he passed the bathroom, he glanced in. A miracle must have happened because he signaled that it was empty.
Karen hurried through a shower and shampoo. She wondered what her brother would tell the family about her being late.
Josh met Karen as she came out of her bedroom. “You’re in luck,” he said. “Dad had a flat tire coming up from the lower field. He’s late, too, so no one will ask any questions.”
Soon the family gathered in the living room to read from the Book of Mormon.
“Let’s see,” said Dad. “We were reading Alma, chapter seven, where Alma is speaking to the people of Gideon. Mother, I think it’s your turn to read. Start with verse twenty-one, please.”
“And he doth not dwell in unholy temples; neither can filthiness or anything which is unclean be received into the kingdom of God; therefore I say unto you the time shall come, yea, and it shall be at the last day, that he who is filthy shall remain in his filthiness.”
Karen looked up from her book and saw Josh watching her. He nodded his head and gave her a wink.
“… And may the Lord bless you, and keep your garments spotless, that ye may at last be brought to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the holy prophets who have been ever since the world began, having your garments spotless even as their garments are spotless, in the kingdom of heaven to go no more out.”
Mother finished the chapter and Dad explained: “Jesus has shown us the way to live while we are here on earth. If we follow His path, it will lead us back to our Father in heaven. But if we make a mistake, we are not forced to stay out of the kingdom and away from our families. We have been given the promise that if we do all we can to correct the wrong, our elder Brother, Jesus Christ, will forgive us and help us to return.”
Karen felt a peace come into her heart and a new understanding as she knelt by the couch for family prayer.

At the age of 17, my grandfather left Denmark to find a new life in America. He worked his way to Mendon, Utah, where his uncle lived. He was employed by his uncle to help him with his farming. After some period of time, he came to his uncle and said: “You Mormons are a funny people. I have worked with you for many months, and not once have you tried to tell me anything about your religion or invited me to attend church with you.” His uncle asked him if he would like to know something about it, and he answered affirmatively. So his uncle told him about the Prophet Joseph Smith and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. He gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon to read. After doing some reading in the book, my grandfather gave it back to his uncle and said, “I don’t see anything in that book that has much value to me.” The next day he was out plowing the field, and his thoughts turned to the story his uncle had told him about the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. He thought in his mind that no young man with limited education could have produced such a book. Maybe he should give it a second look. He asked his uncle if he could borrow the book again. This time he could not put it down. The Spirit burned within him that this book was true. He asked for baptism and remained active throughout his entire life.

Reflecting on this spiritual teaching pattern in my life, I would like to share with you some of my memories as a convert to the Church. This might help someone—young or older—learn how to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9) under any circumstances.
It all started on the day of my baptism. I was twenty-two years old and a college student. I was part of a small group that assembled at a swimming pool in Brussels, Belgium. We didn’t have a chapel at that time. There was no baptismal font, no bishop—just two missionaries and a few branch members to support us. I had no family members with me. It was a first step in the known and the unknown. The known was a sure testimony of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer; of Joseph Smith, a prophet; of the Book of Mormon; and of the Church, the only true one. The unknown was yet to be discovered and experienced. It started to be unveiled by receiving the priesthood after baptism. According to the procedures followed at that time, a convert almost had to stand at the bar of judgment to receive the priesthood. Three months passed before I was interviewed and ordained a deacon. Then on that Sunday morning I stood in front of the sacrament table to distribute the emblems of the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. I still remember the surroundings, which were quite different from the ornate decorations of the church where I had previously worshiped. The dining room of a home had been transformed into a meeting hall for sacrament meetings that were attended by a few members. It was my first experience to magnify my priesthood calling. Nine months later I was ordained a teacher and learned how to teach and to watch over the few members of the branch during their contentions and ups and downs.
These were also interesting days, when attending priesthood meeting meant sitting in a circle with two missionaries and two other brothers, and reading from one mimeographed sheet of paper that was the lesson. There was no priesthood manual, and only twenty sections of the Doctrine and Covenants had been translated into French. There was no Pearl of Great Price, but most importantly we did have the complete Book of Mormon. We passed this great book from hand to hand and learned about the covenants and teachings of the Lord and his doctrine. Precept upon precept, stone upon stone, I was building my spiritual memory bank and enjoying spiritual happiness.
Another four months passed, and I was ordained a priest. Now I stood on the other side of the sacrament table. The decor was the same, but I felt different. It impressed me that now I was blessing the emblems of the Atonement and memorizing “that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, … and always remember him and keep his commandments … that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:77). It was an unforgettable experience, and I still visualize it today when I bless the sacrament as a General Authority.
Two years passed after my baptism, and the day arrived for me to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to be ordained an elder. The mission president once again laid his hands upon my head. The authority and power to act in the name of the Lord were given. It was received by mutual agreement by an oath and covenant. The oath represented the assurance that the promises of the agreement would be kept by both participants; the covenant, that the conditions of the agreement would be kept.
As I recall that priesthood preparation in the service of the Lord, I can see how remembering my covenants helped me to honor and magnify my priesthood calling, to keep the commandments, and to bring spiritual happiness into my life in preparation for eternal life. During those trial years, many of my young friends in the Church forgot their covenants and one by one returned to the world. The world always stands between man and God, representing two alternatives but only one true choice.
How can we be strengthened in making the choice to serve the Lord? By simply focusing on the doctrine of Jesus Christ that will ensure the salvation of those who remember it, accept it, and act upon it. How did the process work for me?
As a young man I considered and learned the doctrine of eternal marriage and family. This was of great interest to me and a determining factor in my conversion. I had witnessed the breakup of my parents’ marriage; I had seen sorrow caused by death without spiritual knowledge and friends marrying without temple ordinances. I wanted to avoid these tragedies.
What is this doctrine? In the Bible, it states that Adam was created, but he was alone. We read, “But for Adam there was not found an help meet for him” (Gen. 2:20). Thus, the Lord created woman—not another man—and commanded that they should be united in the sacred bonds of marriage. The first divine, righteous, ordained union between a man and a woman was sealed by these words: “A man … shall cleave unto his wife” (Gen. 2:24). This is the established doctrine, and it will never change. It is repeated in modern revelation: “Thou shalt love thy wife with all thy heart, and shalt cleave unto her and none else” (D&C 42:22).
This union is solemnized by the authority of the everlasting priesthood in a holy and sacred ordinance, the temple sealing. It is also called the new and everlasting covenant of marriage, and its purpose is to bind couples together on earth and bring them to a fulness of exaltation in the kingdom of God in the hereafter. Then Adam and Eve were also commanded to multiply and replenish the earth. “And Adam called his wife’s name Eve; because she was the mother of all living” (Gen. 3:20).
The true concept of marriage and family, the unit composed of a husband, wife, and children sealed together, was instituted at the beginning by God to create eternal families. That foundation principle became my vision and my goal and also reality as my companion and I were sealed in the temple in Zollikofen, Switzerland. As a husband and father and later as a grandfather, I was and still am responsible for the development, temporal support, protection, and salvation of my family.
Another determining factor in my conversion was the Church as a divine institution led by the authority of the priesthood. It provided the framework that I needed for support as a member of that covenant group. I could not save my family by myself.
Elder John A. Widtsoe wrote: “The Church, the community of persons with the same intelligent faith and desire and practice, is the organized agency through which God deals with His children and presents His will. Moreover, the authority to act for God must be vested on earth in some one organization and not independently in every man. The Church through the Priesthood holds this authority for the use of man” (Priesthood and Church Government [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1939], p. 180).
The Church provides a unique support for individuals and families to do things that they cannot do by themselves, such as receiving the essential ordinances of salvation. It brings temporal relief in times of hardship. It is also a laboratory outside of the home where we can serve, learn, and practice charity, the pure love of Christ.
I also found in this church that the priesthood has a patriarchal order and that God is a God of order. He is at the head, and following this pattern, the priesthood is conferred upon worthy men so they can preside in their homes and families. The husband and father, a patriarch, is to preside in righteousness and exercise the power of his priesthood to bless his wife and family. The husband and wife serve as partners in governing their family, and both act in joint leadership and depend on each other. They are united in the vision of their eternal salvation, one holding the priesthood, the other honoring and enjoying the blessings of it. One is not superior or inferior to the other. Each one carries his or her respective responsibilities and acts in his or her respective role.
Much more could be said about the priesthood and its uniqueness, the divine commission given to man through which he acts in the plan of salvation. In essence, therein is the true doctrine of the Father, the irreversible correct principles to govern ourselves, and the know-how to act upon the law and commandments that we were given.
In this age of increased individualism and selfishness, opinions now matter more than facts or doctrine; attitudes glorify personal choice above other values and principles; and language is typified by “I don’t need anyone to tell me how to be saved; I don’t need prophets, seers, or revelators to tell me what God expects of me; I don’t need to attend church meetings, to hear talks, or to be challenged.”
Today the concept of priesthood and Church authority is on trial by the world and even by some members who think that the Latin expression vox populi, vox Dei can be literally interpreted in the Church as “the voice of the people is the voice of God.” The commercial slogan “Have it your way” certainly does not apply in God’s plan for the salvation of his children when we read that the very cause of apostasy is when “every man walketh in his own way, and after the image of his own god” (D&C 1:16). How do you overcome the temptation to have it your own way, to satisfy your own appetites, and to follow the world’s trends?
One of my simple answers tonight is to constantly remember your covenants, to act on them, and to commit to them. This sequence, as repeatedly stated in the scriptures, is a classic, spiritual teaching pattern to prepare us for eternal life. It is centered upon Christ and his doctrine and teachings. I will remember them forever.
I testify that Jesus lives, that this is the only true church, that the priesthood of the Son of God is vested herein, and that prophets, seers, and revelators who preside over this church are appointed to preserve the pure doctrine of Jesus Christ and the authority of his priesthood for the salvation of his people. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

She wasn’t really her grandmother, but that didn’t matter to Sue Baker. The woman finally felt close enough to ask her for a favor.
“I have a parcel that needs to be wrapped,” the older lady said with a smile, propping herself up on her rest home bed. Sue, eager to help, asked if the package was going to be mailed somewhere.
“No, it’s not going to be sent off. But I need you to get some tissue paper, ribbon, and a card …”
Sue asked a few more questions. She needed to know the size of the package in order to purchase the correct amount of paper, and she wanted to be sure to select an appropriate color.
“Can you tell me what it is?” she said. “It might help me to know what I need to get for you, what kind of card, that sort of thing.”
The elderly woman decided she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. She pulled the package out from behind her pillow, handed it to Sue, and said, “Here. It’s for you. Pick out a card you like.”
It’s hard for Sue to tell the story without crying. When she opened the box later, she found inside some embroidery she had admired. A few weeks before, her grandmotherly friend had said it was “the most precious thing” she owned.
Sue, whose home is in La Crescenta, California, is just one of more than 60 BYU students who participate in the Adopt-a-Grandparent program (AAG) sponsored by the Student Community Services office. Coordinating their efforts through a central bureau, the students work with Provo rest homes and private individuals in an effort to battle loneliness in the lives of elderly area residents.
“I felt good about the program when I first heard about it,” said Jan Henrie of Idaho Falls. “One of the greatest things about it is that you bring joy into their lives by visiting with them. But the joy that comes back to you is much more than you would get by doing something for yourself. It helps you see what a great thing service really is, not just for the person you do something for, but for yourself as well.”
The elderly participants are as excited about the once-a-week (minimum) visits as the students are. “For several years, the Y has sent somebody down here who has the time to help me make my deliveries,” said Fred Davis, an “adopted grandfather” who sells shoes. “The other day, Mike (Mike Allred, who’s working with Fred this year) took me over to deliver some in Springville. We sold a couple of pairs, and I got the chance to talk to him. He doesn’t mind helping me. I’m blind in one eye, and I like to have him describe what we’re passing.”
On the days they know visitors are coming, rest home residents sometimes get so eager they line up out in the halls, according to Sheryl Sanders of Boise, Idaho, AAG’s assistant director. “If it hadn’t been for the program,” Helen Strong, one elderly sister, emphasizes, “life would have meant nothing to me. Now, I have a friend. I feel good about having her come.”
Julie Melville, of San Jose, California, directs the Adopt-a-Grandparent service. She explains that students who wish to participate must be willing to donate at least an hour each week for six months to visit their special friend. A screening committee interviews applicants to orient them to the program and explain the commitment necessary to do a good job. Glen Hale, from Murray, Utah, the orientation and training director for the staff, meets with each new volunteer and discusses likes, needs, and tips for getting along with his elderly friend. Then the visits begin, along with a weekly progress report to a supervisor, who can offer help or refer problems to qualified authorities.
“They matched me with Albina Felker,” Jan said. “As I’ve come to visit her every week, I’ve also become acquainted with her roommate, Wanda Roper. Albina is always cheerful, tells me stories about her life, and gives me good advice. She’s 94 but active. She walks outside every day. She tells me about how she’s never smoked or drunk, how she’s done things to keep herself healthy. She also loves to talk about her family.” When Sister Felker isn’t in, Jan will spend a few minutes with Sister Roper. “I’ve worked with young people all my life, and I still enjoy it,” Sister Roper said.
“Some of the people we visit have so much to say, but no one to say it to,” Sue added. “I know it means a lot to my special friend just to be able to talk. I’ve got a great relationship with my grandparents back home, and leaving them was hard. Having someone up here who more or less is ‘family’ means a lot to me. But when I first met my friend I felt I had something to overcome. I talked with her for about 90 minutes, and a couple of days later came back. She couldn’t remember who I was. The next week I went back, and she still didn’t remember me. I finally started calling her every day and talking to her. I wouldn’t tell her who it was; I’d make her guess. Then she started saying, ‘Oh, I’ve been looking forward to your call all day.’
“About three weeks ago she said, ‘Why don’t you give me your phone number so I can call you sometime?’ It was when she actually phoned me that I got excited. She called the other night. My roommate said, ‘I think it’s your grandmother.’ I got on the phone and said, ‘Grandma?’ She said, ‘Yes, it’s me. I’ve got something exciting to share with you,’ and told me that a group of children had just come by with a basket of fruit and a card. That meant a lot to me. I feel like I’ve overcome the problem of her not knowing who I am.” Sue obviously won her heart. She’s the same elderly lady mentioned at the beginning of this story, the one who asked Sue to help her wrap a present and then gave the present to Sue.
Many of the students said they became involved with Adopt-a-Grandparent in about the same way Sharon Pritchett of Atlanta, Georgia, did. “Julie had been praying about finding people who wanted to get involved, and I had been feeling lonely and praying for ways to get to know new people,” Sharon said. The two met on their way to a religion class they had together, and after class Julie invited Sharon to a staff meeting the same day. Soon Sharon was publicity chairman for AAG.
The volunteers also said they felt their leaders had been inspired in matching them with particular elderly participants. “The Lord guides us a lot in what we do,” Julie said. “You wouldn’t believe the backgrounds of these people,” another supervisor added. “One man used to catch broncs by the tail and then train them. Another was born in Czechoslovakia and was a concert pianist. Now he’s paralyzed in one hand, but he still plays. His name is Rudy.” The supervisor also said it’s a goal of the program to place volunteers and participants with similar interests together. One fellow watches football games each Saturday with the gentlemen from a rest home. A young lady is learning how to crochet. Others work on sewing, knitting, and lapidary (making jewelry from rocks) projects with their elderly friends.
Kathleen Koch, of Carbondale, Illinois, often discusses genealogy with Alberta Campbell, her special friend. They spent one day together watching a general conference session, eating lunch, and visiting with Sister Campbell’s friends in other rooms of the convalescent center.
“My friend has been to college. Even more important, she doesn’t want to be treated like a baby,” Karen Critchfield of Los Altos, California, said. “We were both nervous to start with, but now we confide in one another.”
Besides visiting their elderly friends, the students meet on their own at least once a month for a fireside and often have social gatherings. Wendy Ius of Trail, British Columbia, said fireside speakers are usually experts in social work, psychology, or human relations. The meetings help group members feel like a team, sharpen their skill in dealing with others, and provide a time for sharing ideas and experiences. A periodically published newsletter also helps to unite the group.
From time to time special activities are held at the rest home, especially on holidays. “We had a home evening a little while ago,” Karen said, “at which she (Sister Strong) bore her testimony. It was really uplifting. We had my entire home evening group out here, and she spoke about relying on the Lord.”
Linda Barr, of Brunswick, Georgia, said AAG “makes you more concerned because you find out how lonely some people are, what little joy they have, how they feel they’re not worth anything. You want to make them feel better. And it makes you feel better to think you’re important to them.”
“Just because they’re old doesn’t mean they’re not people. They’re up-to-date, not living in the ’20s. The person inside will be the same, now or later on,” Julie said.
And Sharon Wendell, of Bountiful, Utah, added, “They have lots to offer, unless people forget them.” Colette Johnson, of Boise, Idaho, commented, “It’s hard to know if I’ve changed because of the program. It was so great to start out with, how could it get any better?”
Perhaps one of the most poignant stories, however, was related by Peggy Buchanan, of Waynesboro, Virginia, as she described her first visit to the rest home: “I went to visit Edna. She was in bed and kind of sick. I had a picture of a lily mounted on matboard, with a poem on the back. I was going to read the poem and give her the picture. She didn’t respond much, so I decided to talk to her instead. I asked her if she liked flowers. She said yes and started talking a bit. She is a great lady, and she brought out something in me. I told her about my grandmother’s flowers, and she listened while I shared parts of my life with her, which was very rewarding. Then she fell asleep, and I left. Outside the door, a woman in a wheelchair asked me to pick up her blanket and tuck it in. She cuddled up and snuggled back in her chair and was happy. I got to see about five ladies that day and helped them all. As I was leaving, I went down the back hall and asked if I could visit anybody else. I started to go, when someone called out to me and said to please come in. She reached her hand out and said, ‘Please don’t leave. We love you.’”
Peggy said, “I love you, too,” and spent several more minutes chatting with the woman. As she left, Peggy knew “that lady was happy, and that it meant a lot to her to have people visit.” She also knew that despite the pressures of school, dating, and work, she had found friends and would find time to come back often.

It was a unique service project for a unique Christmas season. Many families in the northern California bay area were still busy rebuilding their homes after last year’s tragic earthquake and hadn’t given Christmas decorations a thought. But the girls in the Hayward Fourth Ward, Hayward Stake, had. They decided to make Christmas decorations for earthquake victims in the surrounding areas.
The girls made napkin holders, Christmas tree decorations, and Christmas wall hangings. Each piece was one-of-a-kind, and the recipients were thrilled with them, since many of their own decorations had been destroyed by the quake. Their project spread the true Christmas spirit to both the givers and the receivers.

Seito no michi: There must have been problems involved in the building of the temple because of its unique nature.
Mr. Nakajima: Yes. Because the building differed completely in purpose from general commercial buildings, apartment buildings, office buildings, and so forth, we were unable to proceed according to the construction methods that we have used in the past. In this sense we did have a great deal of difficulty. Assembling the tower and placing the oxen which support the baptismal font caused special headaches. The tower was constructed first in parts that were assembled later; and the oxen statues weighed nearly one ton apiece and had to be lowered carefully down to the basement level with an oil pressure crane. We were also forced to alter the original building plans with regard to structure and design on a few points in order to conform to Japan’s climatic environmental conditions as well as legal standards.

When I was younger, my ward had a talent show. My mom and I were performing clogging (a type of dance). I practiced a lot with my mom until it was perfect.
On the night of the talent show, when it was our turn to dance, I realized that I had stage fright. I did not want to perform, so I ran toward the Primary room.
My mom eventually found me sitting near the door, shaking. She saw that I was scared and asked if we should say a prayer. I agreed.
When we got to the stage, I was scared, but I knew God could help me. My mom and I then did our dance proudly. I know Jesus will help us when needed.