Gospel Story Finder

When the Young Women of the Merthyr Tydfil First Ward, Merthyr Tydfil Wales Stake, learned the chapel of another denomination nearby was in peril, they stepped in to help preserve it.
“The people who use it are mostly older, and they couldn’t afford to have it redone,” explained Natalie Davies, 17. “Unless we helped out, they would have to close it down, and it’s quite a piece of history in this area.”
So the LDS Young Women spent time scraping walls and painting the interior of the old stone building.
“We didn’t expect to enjoy the work,” Natalie said. “At first everyone groaned and said, ‘Oh, we’d rather be playing rounders’ (a British game similar to baseball). But when the older people started saying ’thank you for coming,’ we felt really good. They were so appreciative.”

At one such time, I sought Heavenly Father’s counsel through constant and heartfelt prayer for more than a year to find the solution to a difficult situation. I knew logically that Heavenly Father answers all sincere prayers. Yet I reached such desperation one day that I attended the temple with one question: “Heavenly Father, do You really care?”
I was sitting near the back of the Logan Utah Temple waiting room when, to my surprise, entering the room that day was the temple president, Vaughn J. Featherstone, a close family friend. He stood at the front of the congregation and welcomed all of us. When he noticed me among the temple patrons, he stopped speaking, looked me in the eyes, and then said, “Brother Brough, it is good to see you in the temple today.”
I will never forget the feeling of that simple moment. It was as if—in that greeting—Heavenly Father was stretching forth His hand and saying, “Here am I.”
Heavenly Father really does care and listen to and answer every child’s prayer. As one of His children, I know the answer to my prayers came in the Lord’s time. And through that experience, I understood more than ever that we are children of God and that He has sent us here so that we can feel His presence now and return to live with Him someday.

Another incredible thing in Punta Arenas is found at the central plaza. On the same monument as Hernando Magellan is a bronze Patagonian Indian with a very shiny toe. The toe has been polished by the touch of passersby because it is reputed to be a very lucky toe. It has even received a few kisses because a legend maintains that any visitor who busses the magical digit will someday return to Punta Arenas. Few people take the good luck offer seriously, but it seems to be almost a matter of civic pride to give the toe a pat from time to time. One day in the springtime when the plaza was alive with flowers and budding trees, the patters were young Latter-day Saints. They were waiting for a bus to take them to one of the many tourist attractions around Punta Arenas. Their goal was Fuerte Bulnes (Fort Bulnes), the first Chilean fort on the Strait of Magellan.
When the bus arrived, they went singing on their way. On their left was the alternately cloud-gray and silver Strait. On their right the brambly hills gave way to dark tarns and forested slopes. As they went, the hills moved closer to the sea, until they rose almost straight up to formidable cliffs. And atop one of the cliffs, far above the Strait, was the fort.
Fuerte Bulnes looks like something out of the Old West, with its palisades of sharpened logs encircling guard towers, cannons, barracks, and a guardhouse. The young visitors examined swords and muskets, sent imaginary cannonballs seaward against desperate enemies, and climbed down a rocky trail to admire the sea, which for a moment was as blue and placid as an alpine lake.
In the fort museum they relived Magellan’s discovery of the Strait, almost exactly 457 years before. They were intrigued by the real-life drama of other early explorers and settlers, including the tragic story of nearby Puerto Hambre (Port Hunger) where a whole settlement perished from starvation.
On their way back to Punta Arenas, the group stopped for a leisurely stroll by the shore and a visit to an Indian fishing village. They searched for sea shells on the pebbly beach among the remains of king crabs and old boats. They also watched with interest as an Indian boatwright patiently tamed raw timbers into the ribs of a fishing boat.

Long ago there lived a stonecutter who every morning took his mallet and chisel to hew slabs of rock from the mountainside. When he had hauled them home, he would polish the rocks and sell them. He was very good at his work, and so there was always plenty for him to do, and he was contented.
One day when he carried a finely polished block of stone to the house of a rich man, he saw all sorts of beautiful things that he had never seen before.
“Oh!” he cried. “I wish I might have a beautiful home like this one and sleep in a bed as soft as down.” Discontented, he picked up his tools and started home.
The spirit of the mountain heard the stonecutter’s wish. When he arrived home, instead of the poor little hut he had left in the morning, there stood a wonderful palace. Inside, it was as full of beautiful furniture as the rich man’s house. The stonecutter slept that night on a bed as soft as down.
When he awoke, he decided not to work anymore, and he looked out his window to see who was going by. As he watched, a fine carriage drawn by snow-white horses rolled along. There were servants running in front and behind, and a prince sat inside with a golden canopy over his head. The stonecutter was discontented again.
“Oh!” he declared. “I wish I were a prince with a carriage such as that and could ride under a golden canopy.”
No sooner had he made the wish than it came to pass! He was a prince, he had servants dressed in purple and gold, and he drove through the streets in a carriage with a golden canopy.
For a while he was happy. Then one day he noticed that the sun was wilting his grass and flowers, even though he had watered them. “The sun is mightier than I am,” he said. “I wish to be the sun.”
The spirit heard him, and the stonecutter was changed into the sun. He felt proud and mighty to be so great and bright in the sky. He burned the fields of rich and poor alike. Then one day a cloud covered his face, and he was again filled with discontent.
“The cloud is mightier than I. I would be the cloud!” he cried angrily.
So the mountain spirit changed him into a cloud, and he lay content for a while between the sun and the earth. He caught the sunbeams and would not let them go. He began pouring down rain until the rivers overflowed and the crops were spoiled. Whole towns were washed away. But he could not move the mountain.
“Is the mountain stronger than I am?” he asked the spirit. “If so, I will be the mountain.”
At once the spirit changed him into a rocky mountain. For years he proudly stood, raising his head high above the other cliffs. Neither the sun nor the rain harmed him. Then one day he heard a sharp tap-tapping, and he saw a stonecutter working with his sharp tools, cutting into the mountainside. He felt a trembling inside him.
“Who is this cutting into me? I would be that man,” he wished.
And he became a man once more, the same poor stonecutter he was before. Once again he lived in a hut and worked from morning to night. Yet he had never felt more content, for he had learned that it’s the steady tap-tapping that moves mountains.

We have a great example of obedience in Church history. Reddick Allred was a stalwart member of the Church, having worked on the Nauvoo Temple, marched with the Mormon Battalion, and emigrated with the Saints to the Salt Lake Valley. Of even greater interest perhaps to this audience is his mission to Hawaii, which he served from 1852 to 1855. During part of that mission he was President of the Maui Conference. But it was just after his return from that mission, in October of 1856, that Reddick Allred etched his name among the heros of the western migration.

The handcart pioneers are part of our Church heritage. We know the stories of their faith, their courage and their great suffering. We also know of the great faith and courage of the rescuers in the Fall of 1856 who went to their aid. Reddick Allred was among those who responded to the call from Brigham Young to "Go and bring in the people now on the plains." It is important to note, and difficult to appreciate in our day of cell phones and instant communication, that when Brigham Young issued that call, he had no good information about the Willie and Martin handcart companies that were in distress. So when the rescue teams left Salt Lake, they had no idea where they were going or how many people they would need to assist.

But they went anyway. Reddick Allred was among the express team of 27 men and 16 wagons that raced ahead of the main rescue party. They averaged close to 30 miles a day through deep snow and bitter cold. On Oct 18th, eleven days after leaving the valley, the express team decided to establish a relief station near South Pass. Captain Grant, leader of the express team, assigned Reddick to take charge of the station and a few men. It was an unenviable task. South Pass is a high, treeless plain at the crest of the continent lashed by a bitter wind in the winter. And only one day after leaving Salt Lake, Reddick contracted pleurisy, an inflammation of the lungs that makes it difficult and painful to breathe. The only treatment for pleurisy was bed rest, but it would be some time before Reddick got to lie in his own bed again.

A few days after the express team continued on they encountered the Willie company. They sent word to Brother Allred and his men who hurried east and were able to deliver life-saving food and equipment to the struggling group soon after their terrible climb up Rocky Ridge. Allred and his men saw the Willie company and their rescuers on their way to the valley and returned to await word of the Martin company at the relief station. For three cold and tedious weeks full of doubt and uncertainty, they waited. At one point, two of the men decided that the Martin company was either lost or had camped for the winter. They decided to return to Salt Lake and tried to persuade Allred to return with them.

Reddick Allred refused to budge. Brigham Young had sent them out, his priesthood leader had assigned him this post, and he would remain until released. The other men left him and returned, tragically turning other relief wagons around as they met them. But Reddick remained. On November 18, his faith and obedience were vindicated when the rescuers arrived with the Martin company. Captain Grant was so happy to see Reddick that he greeted him with a cheer, "Hurrah for the Bulldog. Good for hanging on." Reddick Allred had plenty of reasons for leaving his post; the cold, the uncertainty, his own ill health. But he had one good reason to stay; his faith in his leaders and desire to be obedient.

In the April 1997 General Conference, President Eyring paid tribute to Allred:
"Those with the faith of Reddick Newton Allred will ... feel the same divine approval [he] felt when he saw those handcart pioneers struggling toward him, knowing he could offer them safety because he had followed counsel when it was hard to do.
"While the record does not prove it, I am confident that Brother Allred prayed while he waited. I am confident that his prayers were answered. He then knew that the counsel to stand fast was from God. We must pray to know that. I promise you answers to such prayers of faith." (Henry B. Eyring, "Finding Safety in Counsel," April 1997, Saturday Afternoon Session, 167th Annual General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)
I too pay tribute to Reddick Allred. My great great grandmother's sister, Elizabeth Green, was an 18-year-old member of the Martin Company that he helped to rescue. She continued her journey to the Salt Lake Valley where she later married, raised a family of nine children and died at the age of 78.

I can’t tell you how much I have learned through the special Young Women issue of the New Era. My family and I have had a lot of problems the past few months. Mom and Dad separated. Then my brother went into the navy. I really miss him. For a long time I didn’t think much of life. I thought it was ruined. Then I thought, why don’t I read my Young Women New Era. It really has helped me a lot. Each time I get down on myself, I start reading, and I feel so much better. I start thinking of how special I really am, even though things at home are not so good.

Not long ago I was talking with my close friend Heather. She confided in me, through a flood of tears, that her parents had decided to get a divorce. She was hurt because she felt that God had abandoned her even though she’d lived a good life.
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” she asked.
I told her my cancer story and how my parents must have spent countless nights on their knees asking Heavenly Father that same question as their seven-year-old daughter lay in the next room with the chemicals from chemotherapy flowing through her body.
I then bore my testimony of trials and how Heavenly Father doesn’t give us trials that He knows we can’t overcome. He knew I could handle cancer. I shared my testimony of Christ—when Jesus was crucified for our sins, Heavenly Father knew Jesus could do it. I told Heather that Heavenly Father doesn’t enjoy watching us suffer. He is with us the entire time, and we can turn to Him for guidance and strength. I testified to Heather that once we overcome our challenge, we can feel His presence stronger than we’ve ever felt before.
Through her tears, Heather thanked me for sharing my feelings with her and told me that she would pray to God when she felt like she couldn’t go on.
I hope I planted a small testimony inside Heather that God is always there, no matter what. I know that Heavenly Father loves each of us and is always by our side during our hard times.

One day I was visiting a friend at a church of another faith. Someone came up to me and with a bright smile asked if I was a Mormon. “Yes, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I said.
He started asking me several questions, each beginning with: “Does the Mormon Church believe … ?”
And each time, I began my answer with the phrase: “In the restored Church of Jesus Christ, we believe …”
This banter went back and forth several times. When he noticed that I wasn’t accepting the title “Mormon,” he asked me point-blank, “Are you not Mormon?”
So I asked him if he knew who Mormon was—he didn’t. I told him that Mormon was a prophet, a historian, and a military general in the ancient Americas. I am honored to be associated with a man who was so dedicated to the service of God and others.
“But,” I continued, “Mormon didn’t die for my sins. Jesus Christ is my God and my Savior. He is my Redeemer. And it is by His name that I want to be known at the last day, and it’s by His name that I hope to be known today.”
I felt the assurance of the Spirit supporting me in this short testimony to my new acquaintance. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “So, you’re a Christian?”
“Yes, I’m a Christian,” I responded, “and a member of Christ’s restored Church.”

After I received my Masters in Educational Counseling working in the Seattle area where my husband and I resided, I was convinced by my uncle Junior to move back to Laie. I finally was able to get back to my counseling field at Kahuku High School and was well aware of the climb upwards towards administrative level. During the summer break we decided to go back to Samoa to visit my parents who unfortunately were divorced at the time, and I felt the need to visit and be with my mom. My husband, a 6’2” good looking Samoan boy born in Daly City, San Francisco area, did not want to return to Samoa. Ernie’s father passed away at 42 when Ernie was only 14 but since his widowed mom was still there, he agreed to go. I, on the other hand, actually wanted to move home and help my mom with the family business and living situation due to the divorce. Ernie, aware of my desire to move back, made the mistake of challenging me that if I was able to find a job that would pay for our airfares back home and that provided housing for our family, we would return. And I had ONE week to do all of that. Don’t you just hate it when someone challenges you to something they think you wouldn’t be able to do? I hustled to begin my search for a job. Imagine my husband’s surprise when I told him that I got a job as a rehabilitation counselor for the Department of Public Safety. They were looking for a second person to hire to assist with their rehabilitation efforts, and they had just hired a graduate from BYU-Hawaii and needed one more. After they offered me the job, I had to convince them to pay our airfares back, relocate my family and provide housing. Aren’t you from here? Don’t you have family to live with? I went through an investigative period over that but I was so determined to complete all the requirements my husband laid out for me. Besides, if they were to hire someone from outside to do the job, they’d have to pay their airfare, put them up in housing, etc. I got a one year contract, and after that I promised my husband that we would return to Hawaii.

Of course Ernie lost the bet. We came back and packed up our little family and moved to Samoa with airfares paid and a place to live. A year later, Star-Kist advertised for an Assistant Personnel Manager as a crucial response to their anti-union efforts. Brothers and sisters, we ended up living in Samoa for 10 more years after that and absolutely loved it! They were growing times for us as I witness the Lords hand in Ernie’s spiritual progression in the church. How he struggled with the culture and language and when he was called as a bishop. I can guarantee you that being a bishop in Samoa is not the same as being a bishop anywhere else in the world as the Saints rallied and helped him with all the proper cultural protocols.

I served a mission in South Africa, where, as with other missionaries, I told many people that if they prayed they would soon receive an answer from heaven telling them our teaching is true. They could ask directly if the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and if so, the restored gospel came through the Prophet Joseph.

My companion enjoyed his time when he could listen to music, it did not have to be Mo Tab. I had determined that I would use the Sunday night when he disappeared into his head phones to test the promise, the promise that I had been making to others. I had entered the mission field due to the prompting of great parents and good church leaders. I remember when I was 14 my Bishop, John Adams asked me if I was going on a mission. That day I told him yes, so nothing else mattered, I had made a promise. I would go.

I clearly remember that night in the mission field in great detail. I placed a pillow under my knees.
I knelt down; my companion was lost in his music, so I began to pray out loud. I explained to my Heavenly Father that I needed to know if the promise I was giving to others was valid. I told Him that I had faith in Christ as Moroni instructed. I had a sincere heart; I really wanted to know. I had real intent, I told Heavenly Father that if it were not a valid promise, I would go home. I told Him I would not get off my knees until I received a yes or a no.

I am so very grateful that Heavenly Father was kind to me. He might have even chuckled a little bit over my demand to know.

I cannot express what happened after that. What I can express is that without any doubt I was given an answer from Heavenly Father that The Book of Mormon is as it claims to be. It is the word of God, Joseph Smith is a prophet. The promise I had been giving to others is valid. I do not remember how long I had prayed before the answer came, nor do I know how long it lasted but I cannot deny the sweetness of that answer.

Illustrations by Katie McDee
What a great Easter Sunday! But you know what would make it even better?
Chocolate!
Not until after lunch.
We made a new friend at church today!
His name’s Theo.
He’s really cool!
I think he’s home alone right now. His dad had to go to work.
I think Jesus would want us to invite him to come here.
Can we invite him? Please?
We have plenty of food!
That’s a great idea. Let me call his dad.
Happy Easter, Theo!

At a distant stake conference one Sunday I was approached after the meeting by a young man whose face was familiar. He identified himself as a returned missionary whom I had met out in the world a few years ago. He said he had not attended the conference but had come at its conclusion, wanting to say hello. Our greetings were pleasant and revived some choice memories. I asked him about himself. He was in college, still single, and fairly miserable.
I asked him about his service in the Church, and the light in his eyes went out and a dull, disappointed face fashioned itself as he said, “I am not very active in the Church now. I don’t feel the same as I used to feel in the mission field. What I used to think was a testimony has become something of a disillusionment. If there is a God, I am not sure any more. I must have been mistaken in my zeal and joy.”
I looked him through and through and asked him some questions: “What do you do in your leisure? What do you read? How much do you pray? What activity do you have? What are your associations?”
The answers were what I expected. He had turned loose his hold on the iron rod. He associated largely with unbelievers. He read, in addition to his college texts, works by atheists, apostates, and Bible critics. He had ceased to pray to his Heavenly Father. His communication poles were burned, and his lines were sagging terribly.
I asked him now, “How many times since your mission have you read the New Testament?”
“Not any time,” was the answer.
“How many times have you read the Book of Mormon through?”
The answer was, “None.”
“How many chapters of scripture have you read? How many verses?”
Not one single time had he opened the sacred books. He had been reading negative and critical and faith-destroying things and wondered why he could not smile.
He never prayed any more, yet wondered why he felt so abandoned and so alone in a tough world. For a long time he had not partaken of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, and he wondered why his spirit was dead.
Not a penny of tithing had he paid, and he wondered why the windows of heaven seemed closed and locked and barred to him. He was not receiving all the things he could have had. And as he was thinking of his woes and his worn-down faith, his loneliness, and his failures, I was thinking of a burned-out pasture in northern Argentina and burned-off telephone posts and sagging wires and dragging posts.
Deeply disturbing are the numerous signs of dwindling faith in our world. Matches are dropped. The grass is burned.
The sagging in spiritual conviction is frightening. Morale is often low even among employees in their jobs—selfish “gimme” tactics. “How much can I get?” “How about a raise?” More holidays. Fewer hours. Poor morale among the employers.
We are too affluent. We have too much money and other things. We have so many things. Even many poorer people have many things, and “things” become our life, and our vocabulary has been invaded with, “Let me do my thing.”
Yet the Lord has said, “… seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33.) Too often, though, we want the “things” first.
We have a great generation of youth, but as I talk to many, I am amazed and surprised at the laxity of prayers among them, especially those who are in sin. Many have nearly ceased to pray. Their communication wires are down. Also numerous young people in their early married days cease to pray with regularity; their lines are sagging.
My first question to people in trouble is, “What about your prayers? How often? How deeply involved are you when you pray? And when you pray, are you humbly thanking or are you asking?”
Israel was in deep trouble—a sustained drought.
Israel’s King Ahab demanded of the prophet Elijah:
“Art thou he that troubleth Israel?
“And he answered, I have not troubled Israel; but thou, and thy father’s house, in that ye have forsaken the commandments of the Lord, and thou hast followed Baalim.” (1 Kgs. 18:17–18.)
The spectacular drama portrayed on Mt. Carmel between Elijah the prophet and the ineffectual false priests of Baal is the story of sagging lines of communication. Great wickedness—and the Lord had sealed the heavens from rain. Elijah had said: “… if the Lord be God, follow him: but if Baal, then follow him. …” (1 Kgs. 18:21.)
The contest brought about by Elijah was to prove to Israel that the gods of stone and wood and metal were powerless. When the 450 priests of Baal could not influence their gods to burn the offering, and the Lord, through Elijah, brought down fire from heaven and consumed the bullock, then with a revival of faith on the part of Israel, the clouds came and a torrential rain fell. Weak Israel had now set up new poles; they had restrung their wires, and communication was reestablished.
Two young couples from the Northwest came, bowed in sorrow. The husband of one and the wife of the other had lost themselves in frustration arising out of disloyally finding comfort where no association should have been tolerated. Their problems reached the maximum, and sorrow resulted.
It is generally the same. The two young people, unfaithful to their spouses, had conversed and confided too much; then secret meetings followed, then disloyal disclosures concerning the spouse of each. And finally, that which surely could not have been dreamed of—the transgression.
Both couples had reduced their activity, become casual in their church-going. They had joined a social group who were also turning to spiritual casualness like themselves. Their new way of living was beyond their means, and debts crowded out tithing.
Too busy they were for home evenings and too rushed for family prayer, and when the great temptations came, they were not prepared. Their grass had been consumed, and with it the poles had been burned off and the dangling charred stubs were hanging to the sagging wires.
Sin comes when communication lines are down—it always does, sooner or later.
We are living in a sagging world. There has been sin since Cain yielded to Satan, but perhaps never before has the world accepted sin so completely as a way of life. We shall continue to cry repentance from this and thousands of other pulpits. We shall continue to warn the people all too ready to accept the world as it pushes in upon them.
May we always repair our sagging lines and fulfill our total obligations and thus keep close to our Lord and Savior, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Wow! It’s spring! Look at the beautiful flowers!
Do you think maybe we should thank Somebody for the flowers?
Sure. Thanks for planting the flowers, Mommy.
You’re welcome. Who else should we thank?
Thanks for spading up the flower bed, Daddy.
There’s still Somebody else.
Thanks for not digging up all the flowers, Digger.
You’re teasing Mommy, aren’t you?
And thanks for the beautiful flowers.

Over the years, Kumar met two other mission presidents and occasionally had the opportunity to take some couple missionaries on tours which also had a positive influence on him. After talking with some good members, Kumar decided to take the missionary lessons.

Kumar remembered the first lesson when President Roshan, Negombo branch president, told him he shouldn’t worry if a tour group commitment prevented him from coming to church sometimes. He assured him that this church is not for perfect people but those who are striving to become perfect.

Kumar exclaimed, “This was wonderful to my ears,” as this issue of missing church after committing himself to Christ weighed heavily on his mind. Now he could progress with a clear conscience and learn more about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

“The Book of Mormon was very nice to read. It helped me feel closer to my wife and more comfortable with my family,” says Kumar. In December of 2019, Kumar was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Some decisions are choices between doing something or doing nothing. I heard an example of this kind of choice at a stake conference in the United States many years ago.
The setting was a beautiful college campus. A crowd of young students was seated on the grass. The speaker who described this circumstance said they were watching a handsome tree squirrel with a large, bushy tail playing around the base of a beautiful hardwood tree. Sometimes it was on the ground, sometimes up and down and around the trunk. But why would that familiar sight attract a crowd of students?
Stretched out prone on the grass nearby was an Irish setter. He was the object of the students’ interest, and the squirrel was the object of his. Each time the squirrel was momentarily out of sight circling the tree, the setter would quietly creep forward a few inches and then resume his apparently indifferent posture. This was what held the students’ interest. Silent and immobile, their eyes were riveted on the event whose outcome was increasingly obvious.
Finally, the setter was close enough to bound at the squirrel and catch it in his mouth. A gasp of horror arose, and the crowd of students surged forward and wrested the little animal away from the dog, but it was too late. The squirrel was dead.
Anyone in that crowd could have warned the squirrel at any time by waving his or her arms or crying out, but none did. They just watched while the inevitable outcome got closer and closer. No one asked, “Where will this lead?” When the predictable occurred, all rushed to prevent the outcome, but it was too late. Tearful regret was all they could offer.

What helped you decide to pursue art in school? I realized that God gave me a gift, and in praying and asking Him, I realized that art was what He wanted me to pursue. I started drawing more and doing more pieces, and when I auditioned for my school, they accepted me. I saw how direct the hand of the Lord is in people’s lives when you are trying your best to follow the commandments and read your scriptures and pray every day.

Examples of his high regard for youths are abundant. When John Bellows and his father once visited the Prophet, the boy felt important because Joseph Smith paid “considerable attention to me” during the hour’s conversation between the two adults. William H. Walker told how the Prophet, upon learning that a house guest had insulted one of the hired girls at the Mansion House, ordered the man out without allowing him to pay his bill: “I want none of your money, or any other man’s of your kind.” On another occasion, Emma and Joseph took in some of the ten Walker children when Sister Walker died. “Every privilege was accorded us,” daughter Lucy Walker recorded. Joseph Smith treated her brother Loren like an intimate and trusted friend: “He was ever by his side arm in arm; they walked and conversed freely on various subjects.” When the prophet, as a house guest once with the Hess family, tired of studying, he diverted himself by playing with the children in their games around the house, including fourteen-year-old John W. Hess.

In Romania I met Raluca, a 17-year-old young woman who had recently joined the Church. Her baptism was a happy event because, among other things, her whole family attended. Her mother and sister felt the Spirit there and wanted to have the missionary discussions too. This concerned the father, for he felt he was losing all of his family to this unfamiliar church. So he did not allow it, and for a time there was a feeling of discord in their family. However, Raluca remembered that she had made a baptismal covenant to take upon her the name of Jesus Christ. She tried to hold up His light by doing in her home the things He would do. She was a peacemaker. She was an example. She was a teacher. She was a healer.

Eventually her father’s heart softened, and he allowed the others to learn more about the Church. Then they too were baptized. And finally, much to everyone’s joy, the father of the family also joined the Church. At his baptism he spoke and said that for a time their family had been as two hearts beating at a different rhythm in the same household. But now they were of one faith and one baptism, with their hearts knit together in unity and love. He gave thanks to the missionaries and members who had helped them. Then he paid a special tribute to his daughter Raluca for being so Christlike in their home during that difficult period, for being the peacemaker, the healer, the teacher, the example, and the light that eventually brought their entire family to the Church of Jesus Christ.

Do I have a testimony—living knowledge of that of which I speak? The answer is a resounding yes!

A number of months ago it was discovered that I had prostate cancer. Before that rude awakening, I had lived a healthy lifestyle and sought to know the Savior. I also knew that the Lord has a definite timetable for each of us. I had great faith that the right thing would occur.

President Gordon B. Hinckley assures us, “God is weaving his tapestry according to his own grand design. All flesh is in his hands. . . . We have no need to fear. We have no need to worry” (TGBH, 288).

I also have an incredible family and a sweetheart that is so tuned to the Spirit. Therefore, my social connectedness was and is great. Through fasting and prayer and exploring the various treatment options, with an excellent physician I made a decision and felt great peace. My spirit told me all would be well, for I still had much to do. With the help of many, I prepared my mind, body, and spirit and have been greatly blessed with excellent results.

Last week I visited my parents’ grave sites in a little cemetery in Taber, Alberta. As I scanned other headstones, I saw the names of several of my now-deceased high school classmates. I know that living the gospel of Jesus Christ is the gift of health and a quality of life.

by Marilyn Bathern as told to Crystal Schneider
Elliot, my hometown of 600 people, is just a speck in the vast scrub and eucalyptus tree landscape of Australia’s Northern Territory. I was 13 years old when I walked over to the tiny LDS chapel there.
The elders asked me if I was interested in going to church. Every night the missionary couple, the Grays, cooked up some popcorn or treats. Occasionally they’d have a big barbie (barbecue). There were heaps of fun and games. I liked being with these people, and I liked the warm friendship I felt.
A few months later, I boarded the bus for Alice Springs, ten hours’ drive south. My new home would be St. Phillip’s College during years seven through twelve of my education. Before I left, Sister Gray gave me a note with the branch president’s address on it.
In Alice, I found the branch president’s home—a roomy, pine cottage with five kids scurrying around the front yard. I handed the note to the branch president’s wife, Sister Marriot. Over the next few weeks, I again felt warm and wonderful as the Marriots became my home away from home. And I liked the warmth of the other Latter-day Saints who surrounded me, like my best friend Jeni Lee; the St. Phillip’s house parent, Sister Williams; and the Webster family.
I knew the Church was right. At age 15, with my parents’ permission, I was baptized. Now I’m 20, and I’m back in Elliot finishing up my training as a health worker. I’d like to get into Uni (Northern Territory University).
The warmth of members brought me into the gospel. Their example lighted my way to the truth. But now I know it’s my responsibility to strengthen my own testimony and get close to Jesus.