Gospel Story Finder

I was getting to know my new bishop when he said, “You said everything is fine, but something seems wrong.”
I explained that I was constantly behind in my coursework. I was depressed, lonely, and struggling with social anxiety.
“You are too hard on yourself,” he said. He taught me about the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the Savior’s patience and mercy. He also suggested that I talk to my parents and consider the possibility of therapy.
I started seeing a therapist. It didn’t solve everything at once. But because of my loving bishop, I got the help I needed.
Brenna H., Utah, USA

In 1959 he left the University of Utah and went into private practice. There he was, thirty-five years old and with a family of six children, in training all those years after medical school, going deeper and deeper into debt in order to properly prepare himself for his chosen profession.
Nevertheless, he was called to the demanding work of a stake president. Prior to his setting apart, Brother Nelson had mentioned that one of the serious challenges facing him as a surgeon was the difficulty of aortic valve replacement. In the blessing, Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then of the Quorum of the Twelve, promised him that the quality of his work as a surgeon would increase so that he would have the time to serve as stake president without jeopardizing his patients. Elder Kimball himself was to benefit later from this blessing, for in 1972 the open-heart operation that Dr. Nelson performed on Spencer W. Kimball included aortic valve replacement.
The operation was performed on President Kimball the following year on April 12. It was flawless—thousands of intricate manipulations performed without error, according to a blessing he had received under the hands of President Harold B. Lee and President N. Eldon Tanner. Even more special to Dr. Nelson was an overpowering feeling that came upon him at the conclusion of the operation: “The Spirit told me that I had just operated on a man who would become president of the Church,” he said.

“I remember one of the first songs I learned in the Church was ‘Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.’ I used to sing that song every day; in fact, my father got tired of hearing that particular song.
“One day I went to deliver two bottles of milk to a customer. The lady of the house heard me singing that song and came out and asked, ‘What are you singing?’
“‘I’m singing, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam,”’ I answered.
“‘What is that?’ she inquired.
“‘One of the songs we sing in my church,’ I replied.
“‘What church is that?’
“‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’
“‘Well, I don’t know them. Do they have another name?
“‘Yes, the Mormon Church.’
“‘Why don’t you tell me something about your church?’”
Elder Abrea concluded that after two weeks, the lady and her family began attending the Latter-day Saint Church. This was his first missionary experience.

As I navigated life after my parents’ divorce, I learned that Jesus Christ really is the ultimate source of peace and hope.
Christ’s healing power is real. For years, I didn’t talk to my dad. I tried to forget what he had done. I begged for Christ’s grace to help me let go of my anger. The Spirit helped me understand what to do, and eventually, I was able to forgive him. Our relationship, while still recovering, was instilled with new life.
Easter is a reminder that through Jesus Christ, hope will conquer despair, life will conquer death, and light will conquer darkness. Choosing to follow Him is the decision that shapes my life—not one made by someone else.

A few years ago, Brig Sorenson mapped out and recorded thousands of graves at the local cemetery for his Eagle project. Picking up where Brig left off, the stake arranged an ongoing service project to photograph the hundreds of gravestones in the cemetery for an Internet genealogy database.
“I’d never been in a graveyard before,” says Kirsten Barraclough. “But it was fun to see the names of all the people who died. It was nice to know you are serving others.”
“Some days I come to the cemetery and I feel really sad,” says Jessica McGuire, whose uncle and grandfather are buried there. “But this time I came and helped. It was a lovely feeling.”

I hope with all my heart that we shall never slip into a depression. I am a child of the Great Depression of the thirties. I finished the university in 1932, when unemployment in this area exceeded 33 percent.
My father was then president of the largest stake in the Church in this valley. It was before our present welfare program was established. He walked the floor worrying about his people. He and his associates established a great wood-chopping project designed to keep the home furnaces and stoves going and the people warm in the winter. They had no money with which to buy coal. Men who had been affluent were among those who chopped wood.
I repeat, I hope we will never again see such a depression.

As a very young child Trent was too shy to talk to anyone eye-to-eye. First-grade testing showed that he had a learning disability, so since then he has attended special education classes at Meadowbrook School, where fifth and sixth graders become tutors and buddies of the special education students. Tutors drill them one-on-one in speaking, reading, spelling, and math. Buddies play with them on the playground and take them to lunch.

Trent’s self-esteem zoomed sky-high when the older students at his school asked him to play on their soccer team. He could excel in something! But another, greater achievement awaited him.
Special education students and their buddies skate each Friday afternoon at the Bountiful Ice Rink, which is half a block from their school.
A buddy encouraged Trent to skate, and the ice immediately captivated him. As he progressed, Trent became a skating buddy to others. When one child was too timid to try, Trent said, “Come on. If I can do it, you can too.” He flashed his smile and soon had the boy gliding easily on the ice.
Trent is now a member of the Utah Figure Skating Club and the United States Figure Skating Association; he is climbing the same difficult steps that world champion skaters have taken. Trent practices on the ice sixteen hours each week. It took him three long months of practice before he could land an axel—a jump made by taking off in a forward position, spinning one and a half times in the air, and landing on the opposite foot, going backward.
“The intense concentration of skating helps to build the connectors in Trent’s brain,” Trent’s mother explains, “so that his body will follow his brain’s commands. When he is discouraged with his studies, I remind him about how many hours it took him and how many times he fell before he could perform an axel.”
Trent’s coach, Barry Kamber, says, “Trent listens carefully and practices a lot. He attacks each new challenge with an ‘I get to do this!’ attitude.”
He enjoys doing things with his parents, LaDean and Dennis, and with his brothers and sister. His brother Travis (15) excels at golf, and another brother, Todd (13), excels at ice dancing. Trent’s little sister, Tara (4), says, “Trent’s my best buddy.”
In March 1984, the International Special Olympics, in which only handicapped skaters compete, were held in Salt Lake City, Utah, at the Salt Palace. Trent was only nine years old then and too young to compete, but he did perform a solo exhibition number before an audience of thousands—and he had been skating only five months!
In February 1987—the date on the poster—the United States Figure Skating Championships were held, and Trent performed another exhibition number. As Trent arrived at the Tacoma Dome, all the top United States skating competitors welcomed the eleven-year-old blond boy and treated him like one of them. He signed posters and autographed programs along with the champions. Another handicapped skater, Katie Crawford, also did an exhibition number.
In front of the crowd of more than 27,000 in the Dome, Trent was unbelievably composed. He listened for his music, then concentrated on every movement. His first axel was flawless. The crowd rose, stomped their feet, clapped, and cheered. Trent finished his spectacular number, then modestly clasped his hands behind his back and bowed from the waist during the long standing ovation.
“You’re the star of the whole show!” many people praised him. Trent smiled, his eyes glistening. He had achieved his goal!
Skating helps Trent to organize his time wisely for other activities and for doing his homework and chores around the house. “I do the dinner dishes,” Trent says. “I keep my room straight. I put out the garbage and mow the lawn and rake leaves. Sometimes I do things for other people without being asked.”
On his return home Trent began coaching a young learning-disabled girl for the Special Olympics to be held in Salt Lake City. He gives confidence to others, on the ice and off. His classmates feel better about themselves because one of them has achieved.

The summer of 1870 was a good time to live in the valley of the Great Salt Lake and to be 16 years old! The pioneers’ original settlement was becoming a bustling city, and there was work for anyone willing and able.
That is just what young Robert Hemphill Gillespie was. Bob had gained a reputation for being good with horses and cattle and for being a hard worker.
Bob already had a fine horse and the necessary gear for it—a big accomplishment for such a young man, especially one who had been on his own with no home or parents since he was nine. He had proven himself to be trustworthy and dependable, and people liked to hire him.
One fine June day, Bob accepted a job that required him to cross 100 miles (160 kilometers) of the Great Salt Lake desert. Today people can cross this desert in a car in less than two hours. But on that day more than 130 years ago, it took many hours on a horse. Friends told Bob to be sure and take along some water, so he filled a canteen and set off.
Bob had never crossed a desert before, and he didn’t realize the danger of needing water and having no place to get it. He drank all the water he had before he had covered even half the distance. When he and his horse really began to suffer, Bob figured they still had about 60 miles (98 kilometers) to go.
He thought, “Oh, if I had only saved some of the water! It was warm, but it was wet! If I hadn’t hung the canteen on my shoulder where it was so handy, I might have a little left now!”
He thought of all those swallows of water he had taken when he was not in real need as he was now! In desperate hope, he turned the canteen upside down above his mouth once more. The water really was gone! Fear made him urge his horse to go faster—for a while. Then he noticed that his horse was sweating, and he slowed down.
Soon Bob’s tongue was so swollen he couldn’t close his mouth. His horse was suffering too. “We have to have water!” Bob said to himself.
Just then he saw a small cabin a short distance off the trail. A cabin meant there would be water! He immediately turned in that direction. When he reached the cabin, he found it deserted. There was a deep hole in the ground nearby, and there appeared to be water at the bottom. Bob climbed inside. There was a little water! But there were also dead birds, a dead rabbit, and maggots! The water was bad. Sorrowing, Bob climbed out, mounted his horse, and returned to the trail.
Then he remembered his mother teaching him to pray when he was a small child. He had not prayed in a long time, but he decided to try. Looking around for a suitable place, he left the trail again. He found a large, low place, dismounted, knelt, and began to pray, pleading for water: “Please send me a drink, Lord. Yes, and a drink for my poor horse too! My fine, good horse! Please, Lord!”
Bob thought of rain. “God, canst Thou send rain, please?” he prayed. “Please forgive me, Lord, but we need a drink. Please make it rain. I thank Thee, Lord. Amen.”
After his prayer Bob felt a little better. He climbed back on his horse and rode on, still filled with thoughts of the heat, his thirst, and his horse’s thirst.
Recalling that he had asked for rain, Bob began to scan the sky for clouds. All he could see was one tiny cloud, far to the southwest. He watched that cloud closely, wondering and thinking. After a while he noticed a little wind coming toward him from the direction of that little cloud. Could it be drifting his way? It seemed larger now too. “Yes, Lord,” he said aloud, “I prayed for rain.”
Soon a drop of rain hit his hand. Another hit his saddle, another hit the horse, and then one hit his hand again. Suddenly there came a rain shower from that one little cloud! Within a few minutes, water was rushing down the trail and into a little ravine beside the trail, reaching almost to the horse’s knees! The horse bowed his head and drank. Bob dismounted, got down on his belly, and gratefully drank his fill of the muddy water. Then he refilled his canteen. Refreshed, he and his horse continued on their way.
After riding just a short distance, Bob found that the trail and the ground all around him were hot, dry, and dusty once again. It was then that Bob fully realized what had happened. Halting his horse, he again dismounted and knelt on the dusty trail. Again he prayed with a full heart: “I thank Thee, Lord, for making rain come from a small cloud in the desert so my horse and I could have a drink.”
From that day until Bob died at the age of 86, he told this experience many times to his children and grandchildren. They never tired of hearing it, and they have passed it on to their children and grandchildren.
The most thrilling moment every time Bob told the story was when he bore his testimony: “Now, children, don’t ever let anyone convince you that the Lord can’t answer your prayer, for I know that He can!”

During the time of the Korean War, a young man, Rhee Ho Nam, was pressed into a helping role by an American military unit involved in court martials. At the time, being dislocated from his regular way of life looked like a tragedy. Ho Nam, however, made the best of his challenges as did Joseph in ancient Egypt. He developed English as a second language. He carefully observed the things the American soldiers did, especially an LDS Lieutenant who was “different” from his fellow soldiers and much admired by Ho Nam. They discussed things often. One day the lieutenant asked Ho Nam what the purpose of life was. Rhee Ho Nam could not answer, saying only that philosophers had struggled in vain with that question for centuries. Thereupon, the officer took out a plain sheet of paper and drew an outline of the plan of salvation. At that very moment, the Lord bore testimony through the power of his Spirit to Rhee Ho Nam’s heart that what the American had told him was true. Ho Nam studied, then joined the Church, keeping that piece of paper for years as a treasured reminder of that special moment.

The Korean War was soon over, but Ho Nam’s life in the Church had just begun. While in his thirties, Rhee Ho Nam became the first stake president of the first stake of the Church on the mainland of Asia. He is now serving with distinction as a mission president in Pusan, Korea, as an outstanding leader among his people. With special conviction, President Rhee teaches his missionaries and members to look with hope beyond what is to what may be! Sometimes within seeming tragedy there is opportunity!

Life was far from easy. My family struggled financially, and even the simple privilege of having books to study was beyond our reach. I often borrowed them from friends so I could study. My mother worked tirelessly to raise me and my brother, and by the ages of 15 and 16, we both began working part-time to help and support our family.
There were countless moments when I wondered why life felt so heavy. “Why is my life like this? Why can’t I be happy and carefree like other children? Why did my path feel so difficult?” But my mother anchored our lives in the gospel. She taught us to pray, to trust the Lord, and have a firm faith, no matter how overwhelming the trials may be. Because of her teachings, even in the darkest moments, I never lost faith in My Heavenly Father.
In 2021, my trials reached a peak. Emotionally and physically, I was exhausted. Covid attacked both my mother and brother, and I was the only one who could take care of them, it was hard to accept the reality I was deeply depressed at this point. There were moments when the weight of my challenges felt unbearable, moments when I questioned whether I could continue. But through many fasting prayers, a scripture repeatedly came to my heart:
“Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
Those words felt personal, as if Saviour Himself were assuring me. I felt Him whisper, “You are not alone.” That assurance became my strength. Remembering that the Savior had already endured every pain and sorrow, gave me courage to keep moving forward.
When my family finally recovered, I realized something powerful: God never gives us trials beyond our capability. If a challenge feels big, it means we are bigger than the challenge. I began to understand that greater the trial, greater the blessing that follows. As we read in D&C 58:4, “For after much tribulation come the blessings.”
Though I did not experience much love from my earthly father, I consistently felt the deep and abiding love of my Heavenly Father. Trial after trial, I could see how He was strengthening and refining me and shaped me into someone more resilient than before. I came to understand that hardships are but “a small moment,” as written in D&C 121:7–8, and that they shape us into who we are meant to become.
Whenever I feel low or alone, one image comes to my mind. A couple missionary shared it I met in the Taiwan Temple in 2019, who became wonderful exemplars and supporters in my life. That picture reminds me that I am never alone. The Lord sends His guardian angels seen and unseen to protect, guide, and comfort us.
The example of Job has always inspired me. He said, “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away… Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return.” His humility reminds me that everything we face belongs to God. In my most private moments of sorrow, it was the Lord who comforted me, wiped my tears, and calmed my troubled heart.
Today, after bearing all my burdens, I feel blessed by Him. The hardships that once seemed unbearable have become the foundation of my spiritual strength. And because of what I have experienced, I now desire to help bear the burdens of others. I understand that every trial was preparing me for a greater purpose to serve and uplift God’s children on this earth.
My trials may have weakened me emotionally, mentally, and physically, but spiritually I have become stronger than ever. That spiritual strength now supports every part of my life. Looking back, I can honestly say that enduring trials have refined me, strengthened me, and taught me who I am and more importantly, who I become, every tear taught me something eternal. ?

I recently received a letter from a woman who reported having endured great suffering in her life. A terrible wrong, which she did not identify but alluded to, had been committed against her. She admitted that she struggled with feelings of great bitterness. In her anger, she mentally cried out, “Someone must pay for this terrible wrong.” In this extreme moment of sorrow and questioning, she wrote that there came into her heart an immediate reply: “Someone already has paid.”

A few days ago we visited with an elder in the mission field. During the interview I inquired, “Is your father a member of the Church?”
He said, “No.”
“Is your mother a member of the Church?”
He responded with, “Just barely.”
“Did your father want you to go on a mission?”
He answered, “No.”
“Did your mother want you to go on a mission?”
“She really didn’t care whether I went or not.”
“Who influenced you most in your decision to go?”
“I did. I’ve always wanted to go, and I knew I could make a success of it.”
I looked that young man in the face and said, “From what I hear and what I feel of your spirit, you will succeed.” Here was a great individual who had the opportunity to knock and to murmur, “My dad doesn’t care. My mother doesn’t care. Why should I care?” He knows the importance of going forward and has the courage to continue.

Sister Jill Berrett, a full-time missionary in the Vancouver mission, tells of an investigator who toured the meetinghouse at the invitation of her 18-year-old friend. “While she was on the tour she became so excited she wanted to take the lessons right away. Her friend gave her a Book of Mormon, and another friend invited her to Young Women camp. She felt so loved and so involved that she began referring to the ward as ‘her ward’ even before she was baptized.”

Every member a missionary. “Sure, I want to be a missionary but I’m embarrassed.”
“It’s hard to do.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t want to force the gospel on others.”
So, what would you think of a simple approach that allowed you to introduce scores of friends and acquaintances to the Church or gospel principles—while you are doing your school work?
Karen and Susan Jacobs of Walnut Creek, California, found it fun and rewarding. It started when Karen was in the fifth grade at the American School in Copenhagen, Denmark. She was looking for a subject for a rather ambitious American history report. The teacher called for footnotes, bibliography, note cards, and oral reports—everything. Her biggest challenge was to choose a subject. Her parents suggested that she do her report on the Mormon trek westward.
“Why not?” she said.
Once started it was an easier topic to write on than most, with all that help at home, her interest, and her background on the subject from Primary and Sunday School.
Few in the class knew much about the Mormons, and the oral report, filled with interest-raising points, created a lively discussion for months afterwards. She got an A grade too!
Once they discovered the approach, the Jacobs sisters used it, with variations, on numerous occasions. For example, eighth-grader Susan created interest in a science lecture on the effects of smoking by cutting a calf’s heart in class (she had been taught where to cut and how the heart worked by George Washington University medical student Milo Andrus, who also supplied surgical gloves and scalpel). Such a graphic presentation by a petite girl made quite an impression on the class—and they got a strong Word-of-Wisdom explanation at the same time. The grade was A!
The heart lesson was so well accepted that Karen used a calf’s brain in her science fair presentation on the effects of narcotic drugs and won a prize. Again, she included an easy-to-give, easy-to-understand-and-accept explanation on one phase of the Lord’s law of health.
As an eleventh-grader (in a school system that has 12 grades) at Washington-Lee High School in Arlington, Virginia, Karen was very angry to find a derogatory portrayal of the Prophet Joseph and the Church in her history book. It described Joseph Smith as a farmer who moved from place to place digging for buried treasure. She pointed out the inaccuracies to her teacher who responded by asking if she would like to give a class presentation on early Church history. Karen was afraid but accepted. She got out her fifth-grade report. With the addition of the Joseph Smith story and a few other items, it was just the right thing. As it turned out it took the whole class period. The teacher right away asked Karen to repeat the report in his afternoon class. There were dozens of thoughtful questions which led to the missionaries being invited to explain more.
Although there were only three LDS seniors in her graduating class of 800, Karen’s senior government class was given the privilege of hearing four oral presentations on Church subjects. Karen spoke on the United Order, Mike Miller on the nutritional aspects of the Word of Wisdom, and Mark Forsyth on Church government. The bonus came when a nonmember friend, impressed by her visit made prior to the dedication of the Washington Temple, and with help from her LDS friends, reported on the Mormons as temple builders.
The willingness of Karen, Susan, and their friends to try this approach had wide-reaching effects. Virtually everyone in the school knew them as the Mormons. Located in a major suburb of Washington, D.C., the school was largely composed of children of foreign diplomats, congressmen, and other military and government officials; yet, the school was full of drug users, crude language, immorality, nonexistent dress standards, and hundreds of students without fixed standards or ideals. But the tiny LDS group was recognized and respected by teachers and students alike for what they believed in. None was treated with derision or given any trouble. In fact, it was most helpful in avoiding unwholesome activities to be able to say, “Remember, that’s not something Mormons do.”
Perhaps it was due in part to this early willingness to dig into gospel subjects and share LDS teachings that today Karen is taking time out from her studies in the Brigham Young University honor program to serve a mission to Spain and Susan has only a few months to wait for her mission call.
A great prophet of the Lord called on every member to be a missionary. Can you imagine the impact on teachers and students if every LDS student were to write or give just one report each year on the Church? Even in areas of heavy Church membership, many nonmembers have never been given real exposure to our teachings. What easier way to lengthen your stride and please President Kimball? Try it. Or to quote that motto in our beloved prophet’s office, “Do it!”

I just started attending a junior high that’s mixed with high schoolers. Every day I hear swearing and mean comments.
My family prays together every morning before school. We ask if anyone needs any special prayers. Sometimes I ask whoever is praying to pray to help me in junior high.
I know I can make a small difference, so when someone is mean or starts to swear I just change the subject. I know that if I have faith the Savior can help me avoid bad stuff at school.

Brendon W., 15, California, USA

“In through the top loop, bring the yarn through, catch the yarn a second time, and pull it under two.”
Mariana chanted softly as she wove the yarn around her crochet hook. The rhyme helped her remember the steps. She glanced around. Some of the moms and daughters had finished already! She tried to make her fingers work faster. She wanted to make sure she got done in time to see the beginning of the general women’s session of conference. But the crochet hook was slippery, and the gray yarn kept getting tangled.
Mom had taught Mariana how to crochet so they could help with the stake Relief Society project. Their stake had a goal to crochet 500 squares. The squares would then be joined together to make quilts. They’d be given to hospital patients, people without homes, and anybody else who might need a warm blanket. Mariana was excited to help. But what if she didn’t finish her square in time?
Mariana kept crocheting. In through the top loop, bring the yarn through, catch the yarn a second time, and pull it under two.
“Looks like you’re almost done,” Mom said a few minutes later. Mariana counted each row of stitching. Mom was right! Her square was the right size! Mariana finished the row she was on and proudly held up her work.
“Way to go!” Mom said. She showed Mariana how to tie off the last bit to avoid loose threads. Then Mariana was done!
Mariana skipped to the front of the room. A table was stacked high with finished squares. She stopped and stared at the colorful mountain of bright, fluffy squares. They were every color of yarn, and they all looked straight and even. They looked like they had been made by experts!
Mariana looked down at the plain gray square in her hands. She had messed up a few times. It was crooked on one side, and not nearly as pretty as the squares on the table. She thought about shoving her square in her pocket. With all those pretty, colorful squares, no one would miss her lumpy gray one, right?
“Is that another square for us, Mariana?” Sister Garcia smiled and held out her hand. Mariana gulped. But she nodded and held out her gray square.
Sister Garcia cleared her throat. “Sisters? May I have your attention, please? We’ve just received our one-thousandth square!”
People gasped. Then they started clapping and cheering. Mariana’s jaw dropped as she stared around the room. A thousand squares? That was double their goal! Mariana grinned. She knew they weren’t just cheering for her one gray square. They were cheering for all the hard work they had all done together.
Mariana watched Sister Garcia place the slightly crooked gray square on top of the pile. Mariana felt proud of her square. It was a part of something special! Her square was going to help someone. She hoped that whoever it helped keep warm would feel all the love that went into making it.

As I walked along the trail, prairie grass rippled in the breeze like gentle ocean waves. My cow turned aside to eat some grass that was dry and brown from the heat. “Get back here!” I called. “We can find you better grass than that.”
Although the wind was cool and pleasant, I was hot from carrying my four-year-old brother, James. He had the measles, and Mother, who was not feeling well, had tied him onto my back with her shawl. I could feel hard knots of muscle forming in the sore spots on my back, but I had no choice but to keep moving. The wagon train would pass us by if we stopped.
Our family cow started to wander off again, and I ran after her. Making sure she got enough to eat was an endless process. But we needed the milk, and I was determined to make it to Zion safe and sound even if I had to herd a cow and carry my little brother the whole way.
That night in camp I milked the cow and laid James down to sleep. I doubted that he would, but I was determined to get as much rest as I could before his sickly cries woke me. Unfortunately, I was nudged before I even had a chance to drift off to sleep. Father, still wearing his dusty trail clothes, was standing there with a concerned look on his face.
“Margaret, did you tie the cow to the wagon?” he asked.
Our cow was nowhere to be seen, and I soon found myself back on the prairie. We started out looking near camp, but there was no trace of her. I left the search group and walked over a small hill near the river. The air was full of the chirping of crickets and the rustle of wind in the grass. I was barefooted, but the evening was warm and the prairie dirt was hard and dry, so I didn’t mind.
Suddenly the ground turned soft beneath my feet—and moved! I froze, working up the courage to look down. When I did, I wished I hadn’t. I was standing in a bed of snakes! They slithered all about my feet, their scales glinting in the rising moon. I grew weak at the knees and almost fainted into the writhing mass, but I forced myself to stiffen. What should I do?
I decided to say a prayer. It was short, but definitely sincere. Immediately after saying “amen,” I jumped sideways. Heavenly Father must have blessed my leap, because I landed just clear of the snakes. I ran off a ways and collapsed.
I had barely caught my breath when I heard my father. “Margaret!” he called. I ran to the sound of his voice and threw my arms around him. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I smiled up at him, but I didn’t let go. “I’m fine now,” I said. I told him my story as he took me back to the wagons. I was so grateful to be safe that when I saw our cow I gave her a kiss on her disobedient nose.
We arrived safely in Utah on October 4, 1859, thanks to Heavenly Father’s watchful care. And, as always, the cow was by my side.

Although we lived in the town of Logan, Utah, my father, L. Tom Perry Sr., wanted his children to have the same kind of experiences he’d had growing up on a farm. We had a large backyard, with an aunt living on one side of our house and my grandfather on the other side. The three backyards became our farm, which included a garden, a pasture, a barn, and alfalfa fields. We learned how to cut the alfalfa with a scythe, let it dry, then store it in the barn.

Jared Stewart’s involvement in this year’s 2023 British Pageant is remarkable, even miraculous. An aspiring actor and former missionary, Jared is excited to play the role of early Church leader, George Q. Cannon.
Jared has been pursuing a career in acting since he was 16 years old and participated in the 2017 British Pageant as a member of the core cast, playing the part of David Ashton.
Over the years, he had been gaining traction as a background performer. In 2018, his acting pursuits were put on hold as he accepted a call to serve in the Poland Warsaw Mission for two years.
When he returned, his life changed dramatically. He was diagnosed with a large brain tumour and needed urgent surgery, which left him with complete facial paralysis on his left side, total deafness in his left ear, along with other mobility issues.
The pageant auditions were being held only a couple of weeks after surgery. He should not have been able to attend.
Jared said, “But I know the power and impact the pageant has on people and decided to show up and offer my service,e whatever that meant. The facial paralysis made speaking hard but the Spirit helped me to push through and to my surprise and gratitude, I was cast.”
At this early stage of recovery, Jared was able to endure rigorous auditions for various top acting schools in London, and has since been accepted at his dream school—the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art. He began his studies in October of 2022.
Jared hopes that the pageant audience will feel the love that God has for them, as well as the excitement the cast has in being able to share these remarkable stories of early British and Irish Church members.
He adds, “I feel a great sense of excitement, peace, and joy when pondering on my previous experiences in the pageant and look forward to this summer’s performances. “
“As part of the rising generation,” Jared says, “I hope to see the pageant act as a beacon to my peers of the many fun and creative ways in which we can share the gospel of Jesus Christ. There is power in our past. Honouring our faithful and courageous ancestors is such a joy and a privilege.”

During the summer, I did odd jobs to earn money. That summer I was working as a service station attendant. A man who worked there was a member of the Church, and he invited me to attend MIA (Mutual). At first I hesitated, but he was persistent, and I finally gave in. The warmth and friendliness of the members and missionaries impressed me, but again the music influenced me most. Their hymns sounded different from any I had ever heard.

When I first started reading the Book of Mormon, it seemed strange to me. The only name in the book that was familiar to me was the name of one of Nephi’s brothers—Sam! But there was a force that drew me to the Book of Mormon. I felt that if I were to become a member of the Church, my life would become much more meaningful.

When I told my older brother that I would like to be baptized, he said, “That would be fine. But if you become a member, you must be a lifetime member. You must commit yourself and be loyal.” I was baptized when I was sixteen.

After high school, I was in the military, and I had the opportunity to have an interview with Elder Harold B. Lee, who was then an Apostle and who later became President of the Church. It was a very precious time for me. For an hour he counseled me to go on a mission, to go to the House of the Lord, and to sustain the leaders of the Church. This same advice applies to every member of the Church.

I never forgot Elder Lee’s advice. I came to Salt Lake City, Utah, on furlough and went to the Salt Lake Temple. After I left the military and went to college, I saved money for a mission. During my mission, I was able to open the Okinawa area, where my father was from, for missionary work. Later, serving as president of the Tokyo Temple, I had the wonderful blessing of seeing many of the Japanese Saints receive their temple endowments. Seeing the joy in the faces of those being sealed was a great blessing.

Boys and girls, prepare yourselves to go to the house of the Lord. Going to the temple will be the greatest thing you can accomplish in your mortal life. In the temple, you can feel the Lord’s presence and know that He is there. You can kneel at the altar and make sacred covenants. The Lord will always keep His part of these covenants. When you keep your part of them, you will receive the greatest gifts, eternal life and exaltation.

You can begin now to prepare yourself spiritually, mentally, and physically by keeping the commandments, by being clean in mind and body, and by being faithful and loyal to our Heavenly Father. If you will do these things, you will be led toward the sacred covenants of the temple. Then you will have peace and be happy, no matter what trials and tribulations you meet.

You can also learn to search your family history so that your ancestors can have the same temple blessings. We will meet them some day and know them as our relatives. All the people of the world will some day have the same privilege. The Lord has many wonderful blessings awaiting us if we just take advantage of them.