Gospel Story Finder

“The Apostle Paul taught, ‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen’ (Hebrews 11:1). When we believe without any evidence, we open ourselves to endless possibilities. To me, faith is evidence of the strength of our conversion, and that knowledge increases my ability to think celestial.
“In June 2023, I fell and seriously broke my elbow while my husband was away on an ecclesiastical duty in Uganda. I had lots of help from my family and friends. But when I realized how much help I needed to do simple things, I almost drifted into self-pity. My daughter reminded me that God is mindful of us and that I needed to trust in the Lord.
“Trusting God during that difficult time gave me hope, allowing me to believe that He wouldn’t give me more than I could handle. Knowing that His Spirit is always with me kept me hopeful and peaceful during challenging times. Now, after more than seven months, the injury is hardly noticeable.”

Last August, I had an important decision to make. I could either go to Young Women camp with my ward or attend a volleyball camp. I would be trying out for the volleyball team at school, and the volleyball camp was highly encouraged. It showed you were dedicated if you attended it. I had been praying about whether I should go to Young Women camp or volleyball camp. I had a strong impression to go to Young Women camp.
The biggest lesson I learned at Young Women camp was about blessings we receive when we follow the Lord. The following week, I went to tryouts. I made the volleyball team and progressed to varsity at the end of the season. My testimony grew immensely. I know whenever we are faced with decisions, we can pray and receive answers.

“Don’t run too far ahead!” Dad called. “It’s getting dark, and I don’t want you to fall.”
Vincent stopped and turned around. “But you’re walking so slowly. I want to get to the festival before all the mooncakes are gone!”
“They won’t run out of mooncakes,” Dad said as he and Mom caught up. “At least, not until you get there!”
Vincent could hear drums beating as they got close to the park. Strings of colorful lanterns hung from the trees, lighting up the dark night. Families were eating on blankets, getting ready to watch the full moon together.
Mom found an empty spot on the grass and laid down their blanket. She handed Vincent some coins to buy food.
“Thanks!” Vincent couldn’t wait to go exploring. He counted his coins as he walked. Twenty ringgits! That was enough for a mooncake. But which kind did he want? Ham? Egg yolk? Durian? Finally he picked one full of black sesame paste. He wandered from stall to stall as he ate, staring at all the different foods. Stacks of chicken on skewers. Giant pots of spicy broth and noodles. Maybe he could get shaved ice with ice cream with his last coins!
Pretty soon he’d wandered into an area that didn’t have as many lanterns. The darkness gave him an idea.
I wonder how far I could walk with my eyes closed? He shut his eyes and took a step. Then another. Then caught his foot on something. He was falling!
Ouch! His chin hit something sharp. It was a big metal drain cover! He reached up and touched his chin. He was bleeding.
“Dad? Mom?” he called out. He hurried back toward the lanterns, and someone helped him find his parents.
“We were getting worried!” Mom said. Then she saw his face. “We need to go to the hospital.”
Pretty soon Vincent was sitting with Mom and Dad in the hospital waiting room. He was so scared. Was he going to be OK?
He folded his arms tight and thought about Jesus. He and his family had been baptized a few months ago. The missionaries had said that Jesus could help him feel comfort.
Jesus Christ will help me. Jesus Christ will help me, he thought over and over again. And soon he did feel a little calmer. It felt like the Holy Ghost was by his side.
Dad squeezed his hand.
“Everything will be OK,” Mom said.
Vincent nodded. He knew she was right.
When the doctor came, she stitched up his chin. It hurt, but not too much. She told Vincent that he would probably have a scar. But that was fine with him. Whenever he saw it, he would remember mooncakes, the festival, and a time he felt comforted by Jesus and the Holy Ghost.

I wasn’t part of the popular crowd at my high school, so my circle of friends was smaller than most. I was so shy that I kept to myself most of the time. I was, as the saying goes, “painfully shy.” Indeed, I was so shy it hurt.
One day as I sat down at my desk in history class, another shy girl sat down behind me. We had spoken to each other prior to this, I’m sure, but I didn’t really know her.
As she set her books on top of her desk, her notebook crashed to the floor beside me. I turned to pick it up and noticed the words Seminary—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the cover. I reached down and retrieved the binder. As I handed it to her, I timidly said, “Oh, you go to church on Saturday?”
Her face displayed confusion at the question. “No, why?”
I pointed to the notebook cover. “It says, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Doesn’t that mean you go to church on the last day of the week?”
She smiled and giggled slightly. Then she took a deep breath and asked, “What do you know about the Mormon Church?”
I answered quite honestly, “Not very much.”
She inhaled deeply again and asked, “Would you like to know more?”
“Yes, I would,” I replied without hesitation.
At that instant her lower jaw must have hit the floor. Her eyes sparkled, and she looked visibly relieved. I found out her name was Yvonne Anderson, and we became friends. Before long we had set a date for me to meet with the missionaries and receive the first discussion. And when I was baptized, Yvonne was there.
I know that notebook did not fall on the floor by accident. And silly as my first question must have sounded, it was golden: it opened up a way for one shy girl to say to another, “Would you like to know more?”
That day in history class, an instant bond was formed. Because of two golden questions, two shy girls became eternal friends.

While Elder Wood and Elder James help Seth operate his grandfather’s dairy farm, they teach him the gospel. He learns about Joseph Smith and begins reading the Book of Mormon. But when Grandpa returns from the hospital, he is unhappy to learn that strangers have been helping take care of his animals.
When the missionaries knocked on the farmhouse door, Seth rushed to open it. He introduced them to his grandma.
She eyed the young city elder. “Are you the young man who baked that cake?”
Elder Wood looked a little nervous but answered clearly. “I am.”
Grandma smiled. “That’s good cake. I was just dying for something homemade. Now, if you remember that recipe, I’d like to write it down.” Seth left them talking as he took Elder James to meet Grandpa.
Grandpa scowled when he saw the missionary. Elder James smiled and held out his hand. Grandpa took it, and the scowl softened. Its strength and roughness identified it as the hand of a farmer. Grandpa recognized another man who loved and served the land.
“You have a fine farm here,” Elder James said. “That Guernsey is a good milker. I wish I had one just like her.”
Grandpa thawed completely, and as Seth left the room, the men were talking of things dear to the hearts of farmers.
It was almost dark when Seth’s parents arrived. He quickly forgot about everything except being with them. They hugged and laughed and talked. Grandpa sat up on the couch, swaddled in blankets. Seth held baby Janet and listened. It felt good to be together again. Later he went out to his bed on the porch. He was going to sleep there that night to make room for his family in the house.
Dad followed him and sat on the porch rocker. He looked very serious. “Grandpa told me about those men who have been here. He and Grandma like them, but he says that they’re Mormon missionaries.”
Seth sat very still. “Yes. That’s right.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve called every night and never mentioned anything about Mormons.”
“I wanted you to meet them first.”
“Mrs. Bowers says that the Mormons are an evil group who steal children away from their families.”
Seth stared in astonishment. “Mrs. Bowers is an old gossip! Nobody believes a word she says!”
“Seth,” his father said sternly, “you’re talking about a neighbor.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. But the real name of the Mormon church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Families are important to them. I know that they wouldn’t try to take me away from you.”
He grabbed the Book of Mormon by his bed. Grandpa had given it back to him that morning and asked if he could borrow it to study it more when he felt stronger. “See, they gave me this book.” He opened it to First Nephi. “Look at this.”
His father took the book and read out loud: “‘I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father. …’ Hmmm. This doesn’t sound bad to me.” He looked puzzled. “I need to read more. Is it all right if I take it home?”
Seth nodded. “I’ve read some of it and prayed about it. I know it’s a true book.”
His father studied him for a moment. “Is that so?”
Seth nodded again. “I want to be baptized into their church. Will you let me?”
“I need to know more about it first. I don’t want you making any mistakes.”
Every day Seth waited impatiently for the time when he could call his parents. Every day he asked his father the same question. “Have you read the book yet?”
Every day Father answered, “No, I’m still too busy with the haying.”
Seth knew that at haying time, everyone worked till they could hardly stand up. He’d have to be patient, no matter how hard it was.
One day when he asked the question, another voice piped in. “Just what is this book you’re always talking about?”
Seth could hear his father’s soft chuckle. “Well, Mrs. Bowers, he’s talking about the Book of Mormon.”
She gasped. “That book! I heard it’s wicked, wicked! No one should read it!”
“I’ll give you a copy,” his father offered. “Then you won’t have to listen to others talk about it. I’ve read a good part of it, and there’s nothing evil in it. It’s about Jesus Christ on this continent.”
Seth could hardly believe his ears. “You read it!”
His father chuckled again. “Your Elder James stopped in and talked to me yesterday. After he left, I sat down to read.”
“That’s wonderful!” Seth yelled. “Then I can be baptized?”
“Yes, you can.”
“Well, I never!” Mrs. Bowers butted in. “Not a soul in this area will ever talk to you again if you join that church. Well, you’ve been warned. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”
“Thank you,” his father said solemnly.
Seth giggled. He knew that his father was thankful for her promise not to say any more, not for her warning.
The next time the Elders came by, Seth ran out to meet them. “I can be baptized! My folks will let me!”
Elder James smiled and clapped him on the back. “That’s great. Before you know it, the rest of your family will be joining too.”
Seth frowned. “Mrs. Bowers said that no one will talk to us anymore if I join the Church.”
Elder James looked thoughtful. “That happens sometimes. People are afraid of what they don’t understand. What do they think of your family now?”
“We’ve been friends with everyone around here for years.”
“Then that’s how it will stay. If they object, just give them time to see that you’re the same person, only a little better. They’ll warm up to you again.”
Grandma was hanging clothes on the line. She walked over and shook her finger in the air. “You leave Eliza Bowers to me! She won’t dare spread rumors about my grandson!”
The men all laughed at the fierce little woman. She laughed with them. Together they went into the house to plan Seth’s baptism. Seth wanted all his friends and family to be there—Grandma and Grandpa, Mom and Dad, baby Janet, and, most of all, Mrs. Bowers.

Years ago when my second daughter, Nelah, was in kindergarten, she was given a stencil to work with at school. She used this stencil to make me a sign. She brought the sign home and proudly presented it to me. The sign says, "Kynda is lfbut."
I was initially confused. Was she trying to say that I had a fluffy bum? While I was racking my brain trying to figure out what Nelah could mean by this, she said, with a huge smile on her face, "See, Mom. It says 'Kynda is beautiful.'" Aaah, yes, I see it now. "Beautiful" is a difficult word to spell. My five-year-old Nelah had sounded it out and spelled the word phonetically for me. When she ran out of room at the end of the line, she finished the word in the empty space at the beginning of the line, hence "lfbut." During this interaction with Nelah, there was no part of me that was worried for Nelah's spelling ability. I wasn't thinking, "Oh no! Nelah spelled 'beautiful' wrong! Now she's not going to graduate from high school or go to college!" No! Although she did not spell "beautiful" correctly, she was completely developmentally appropriate for her age. She was exactly where she was supposed to be at that time! I knew that eventually Nelah would learn how to spell "beautiful" correctly--and she has. Heavenly Father feels the same way about us! When we make mistakes, I don't think he is saying, "Well, Kynda has really messed up now. I don't think she is going to be able to endure to the end and return back to me." No! I bet He is thinking that you and I are exactly where we need to be at this point in our development: we are learning, and we are on the path to perfection. True heroes take baby steps.

Let me share with you one "homey" little story that illustrates the mutual association the Hinckley and Monson families have shared. You may have learned by now that my father enjoys pigeons and chickens. When Elder Richard Hinckley, President Hinckley's oldest son, served as mission president of the Utah Salt Lake City Mission, their mission home was located on the street right behind my parents' home. When the Monson chickens were laying well, my mother would gather several of the eggs and take them to the mission home. Sister Jane Hinckley would express her thanks, and then she would make a baked custard dessert, using those same eggs. She'd walk the dessert through the gate and deliver it to my parents--which they greatly appreciated. I sometimes wonder if that was why my parents took eggs to the Hinckleys in the first place, as they loved receiving Sister Jane Hinckley's custard.

I’d like to begin by sharing the story of a great friend we met here in Hawaii. One day, not long after we arrived, David Nagaishi came to see me at the mission home. He asked for permission to have the missionaries teach him at his restaurant in Waikiki. His wife, Wendy, was serving as the Primary President in our home ward in Kahala, but he had never been interested in the Church – in fact, he was somewhat antagonistic. But somehow, the missionaries had made contact again, and this time, he was prepared to be taught, but he didn’t want Wendy to know! His request was a bit unusual, but we made the necessary arrangements, and the missionaries began teaching him in earnest.

In due time through his study and prayers, David gained a testimony and wanted to be baptized. The day came for his baptism. Everyone in the ward knew about it, everyone except Wendy! David was dressed in white and seated on the stand in the chapel. A very large congregation of ward members was secretly seated in the chapel too, but Wendy, with a little assistance from her counselor, was in a Primary “planning meeting” in another part of the building. Pretending to hear a commotion, her counselor suggested they go to the chapel to make sure everything was okay.

Now, you can imagine the scene! Wendy’s absolute surprise as she walked into a chapel full of ward members, and David sitting on the stand in baptismal clothing! In her shock (and to the delight of everyone else), she let out an audible, “He can’t be baptized. He hasn’t had the lessons and he hates the missionaries!” Well, David was baptized that day and began his faithful journey in the Church. A year or so later, David prepared to attend the temple and asked if I would be his escort. What a sacred privilege it was for me to accompany my friend to the temple! Today, he serves as the executive secretary in his ward, and he and Wendy have been sealed for eternity with their family. About a month ago, they took their son, Michael, to the MTC to begin his own mission to Japan. As you can guess, David no longer “hates” the missionaries!

That was just one of the special conversions we witnessed while serving here in Hawaii.

“What about family home evening? Aren’t we going to have it tonight?” my six-year-old daughter, Leilani, asked. A feeling of guilt flooded over me. My husband and I had been trying to hold family home evening, but with many claims on our time, we had fallen out of the habit. Leilani’s reminder made us recommit to not neglect family home evening for any reason.
As Leilani and her sister, Nadia, have gotten older, they have wanted to teach during family home evening what they have learned in Primary. They even draw their own visual aids to illustrate the principles they want to teach. We rejoice as parents to see them talking about the gospel and often can expand on the subject they have chosen.
“What about family home evening? Aren’t we going to have it tonight?” are words I am trying hard not to hear repeated. I know that when children are young is the best time to teach them. The world may exercise its influence, but if we work and grow alongside our children, we can reach our goal of raising men and women of principle.
Patricia Cárdenas de Prado, Guatemala

We needed these testimonies to remain strong in the Church, for we faced many trials. My mother would not allow us to be baptized, but she did not stop us from going to church. We faithfully attended church and seminary. I also suffered persecution at school from people I thought were my friends. It was difficult, but these experiences strengthened my testimony.
After seven months a missionary challenged us to fast with him for the purpose of being baptized. When we ended the fast, the missionaries came to my house and spoke with my mother. To our great joy, she gave her permission for my brother and me to be baptized.
Trials make us strong.

Tavita started learning patience when he was a young boy. He needed a direction in his life, and when he was 13 a good friend got him into weight lifting. By the age of 14 Tavita could bench press 315 pounds and squat 500 pounds.
“People thought that I was 20 when I was only 14 because of the way I acted and the way I looked. I had the body of an adult. Even so, I still loved to play and watch cartoons.”
In the following years Tavita continued to grow in both strength and size. He entered and won weight lifting competitions around the country. At the age of 15 Tavita traveled to Little Rock, Arkansas, where he was recognized as the strongest 14–17-year-old in the United States, bench pressing 402 pounds and squatting 650 pounds. For five years he won national titles. By 18 he could bench press 525 pounds and squat 908 pounds.
In high school Tavita excelled at weight lifting and football. In his first season on the football field he made all-state and all-American. His list of awards goes on and on. “I excelled in football and weight lifting because they are the two sports I love the most,” he says.
But Tavita excelled not only because of his love for the sports, but because he taught himself strict discipline. That discipline helped him learn Cantonese while still preparing to enter the Hong Kong Mission. “When I got my call to Hong Kong, my next thought was, ‘What is a 265 pound Samoan going to do there?’ But I knew that was where Heavenly Father wanted me to serve.”
At the beginning, Tavita had a tough time with the language. It was frustrating to not be able to communicate his strong feelings about the gospel. “Through patience and prayer I learned to endure. The relationship between my Heavenly Father and me grew closer, more than I ever thought it could. My knees literally had calluses on them.”
Patience and long suffering helped him succeed on his mission. These attributes have continued to help him succeed in his college studies and football career. Unlike high school, where he thought he had to prove something, all he has to prove now is his worthiness to his Heavenly Father.
Tavita continues to work out six days a week. “I take a lot of pride in building the body Heavenly Father gave to me—to keep it clean and to keep it physically as well as spiritually fit.”
Tavita also strives to be a good example to both his LDS and non-LDS friends. He wants to have a positive influence on those around him.
But first and foremost is his relationship with the Lord. “The relationship I have with my Heavenly Father is a little like the one I have with my own dad and mom. I try to do the best of my ability and serve Him and do what He wants me to do.”
Tavita’s father recently passed away and his mother is living in California, but every opportunity they have, the family gets together to have fun. Tavita especially enjoys working on cars with his brothers and cousins. “I love to fix cars. I love anything to do with hands and tools. I have a strong talent for being able to fix and repair things. In fact, my father was a mechanic, and my brothers are also mechanics.”
Tavita has enthusiastic advice for the young people of the Church. “Serve a mission. Especially the young men when they turn 19. Go now. It might not be the easiest, but it will be the best two years of your life.”
He also advises youth to learn the importance of the gospel in their lives.
“Stay close to the Church,” Tavita adds. “Have a close relationship with your Heavenly Father. It has helped me.”
And that’s the kind of attitude which, whether he’s standing or kneeling, makes Tavita Sagapolu a true spiritual giant.

May I offer a personal counsel to students on a concluding subject that might be rather tender and touching, but one in which I feel very strongly? That is the matter of studying on the Sabbath.
I know what you experience and the challenges you face in trying to be good students. I have attended three universities, spent three years in law school, and acquired an advanced master’s degree in corporate law. While acquiring the latter degree, I served as a bishop of a ward of a thousand people in New York City, and I was working full-time for a Wall Street law firm. I had every temptation and opportunity to study on the Sabbath day to be prepared for class and to acquire good grades.
I made it a simple matter of principle that I would take the Lord at his word and avoid, at all cost, studying on Sunday. I have felt that the Lord honored my commitment, and I completed all that I attempted and, in my humble opinion, excelled where I needed to. I found that by observing the Sabbath day, particularly as it relates to studying, I commenced Monday morning with an invigorated body and an enlightened mind to perform the labors of the week with ease and pleasure. And I always felt that I was prepared for school if I planned ahead and kept the Sabbath day.

William again left his prospering business and a growing family in 1880 to fill a proselyting mission to his home country. Near the end of that otherwise successful mission he reported:

“I preached the Gospel to my dear ones, my father, mother, brother, and sister, and although none of my own kindred have obeyed, they had to acknowledge they could not confute the doctrine, and they feel to-day that I am not what they judged me to be twenty-seven years ago. When a boy … I obeyed the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They would then say, ‘I believe William is a fool, or he is crazy to join such a deluded people,’ and at the same time say ‘What a pity such a good boy should leave his father, mother, and all to follow after such things.’ They forgot the blessings which Christ promised should follow all who would take up the cross and follow him. … All my dear relations have treated me with marked kindness, as they have any of the Elders that called upon them at the time. I know God will bless them for that.”

Baptism Then and Now
Maggie, age 11, and Lily, age 9, were baptized in a font near the place where the first members of the Church were baptized.
Both girls were very excited to be baptized. When it was Lily’s turn to be baptized, she had an interview with her bishop. “He asked me if I had a testimony of the prophet and if I paid my tithing,” Lily said.
The girls both have good memories of their baptismal days. “When I came out of the water, I had a feeling that I could do anything,” Maggie said.
Both girls got journals so they could record their feelings about their special days.

Mom took Anna shopping for a new dress.
How about this one?
No, thank you.
All right, do you like the yellow one with flowers or the red one with dots?
But you like these colors. What would you like instead?
I want one of these dresses so I can look like the missionaries.
OK. Let’s see if we can find a dress in your size.
Anna loved the two sister missionaries in her ward. They shook her hand at church, they smiled when she waved at them on the street, and they prayed with her family when they came to dinner.
On Sunday, Anna could hardly wait to show the missionaries her new dress. When she saw them at church, she twirled around for them.
I look just like you now!
You do look just like us.
And you don’t just look like a missionary; you are a missionary!
Your mom told me you’ve been praying for us all week like we asked you to. And look! We brought someone to church today. Your prayers have been helping us.
Thank you, missionary Anna.

One Christmas Eve while we lived in the Philippines, my father came home early from his work as a chaplain at Clark Air Base.
“Hey, Tam,” he said, “I need you to make cookies and practice Christmas songs on your guitar. Also, gather items for Nativity costumes. We’re going to spend the evening in the brig.”
I was still angry at my parents for moving our family across the world. The last thing I wanted to do was spend Christmas Eve in a military jail. I complained but to no avail.
When we entered the brig, we were led to a stark room with chairs and a table. Soon a door opened, and my father warmly invited a group of shackled and handcuffed men into the room.
Then we sang Christmas songs, reenacted Luke 2, and enjoyed homemade treats—the same things we would have done at home. But something was different.
My adolescent heart softened that night as I witnessed the humble gratitude of those dear men. One of them, referring to our Nativity reenactment, asked, “Can I be in it too?” Others also wanted to join. Soon, additional “angels” heralded the Savior’s special birth.
Those prisoners were not where they wanted to be, and I was in a country where I did not want to be. But I knew we were seen, known, and loved by our Savior, who had also been in a place from which He humbly sought removal (see Luke 22:42). In my 16-year-old heart, I knew I was not alone.
Those men were not the only ones who wiped away tears that Christmas Eve. The life-changing event that evening was not our Christmas celebration but rather Christ’s power to lift and heal.
It’s been almost 50 years since that Christmas Eve, but it remains a sacred memory. My most special, unexpected, and glorious Christmas gift was a new heart. Everything changed for me after that.
I embraced life in the Philippines, made new friends, found ways to serve, and chose to be happy—all because of the witness I received of Jesus Christ and His powerful love that Christmas Eve in the brig.
I know that our Savior can remove the shackles from our minds and our hearts as we come to Him. He is our greatest gift.

When I turned 18, I wanted to serve a full-time mission and help in the Lord’s work. I eagerly told my parents about my plan and how I wanted to invite people to come unto Jesus Christ by helping them receive and live the principles and ordinances of the gospel. Their response surprised me. They said it broke their hearts to think of me leaving on a mission, and I had to choose: my family or my mission.
I was shocked when I heard those words. Immediately I went to the Church building near our home and entered one of its rooms to kneel and ask Heavenly Father, “What will I do? What will I choose: my family or my mission? Both are important to me.”
While on my knees, the words of the missionaries came to mind: “Whatever God commands, do it.”
I love my family and want to be with them forever. I respect their feelings. Yet the scripture says, “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22). The Spirit of the Lord filled me, and I was strengthened. I decided to serve because I knew Heavenly Father would help my family understand.
I went home only to be sent away by my father’s angry words and told to never return. Not knowing where to go, I packed my things. I was not a bit scared, because I knew the Lord was with me, that He has a plan for every family, and that someday my family would understand this beautiful plan.
I was only a few steps away from home when my mother caught me. She embraced me and said how much she loved me. As I left, I could see her crying with all the love and pain of a mother seeing her child go.
For over a year, I stayed in the house of a returned missionary I had met when I was an investigator. The Lord was true to His promise in 1 Nephi 3:7—He provided the way so I could obey His commandments. He sent this selfless and generous man to provide for me and to create a spiritual environment where I could prepare for my mission. I felt the hand of God sustaining me through my challenges. I felt the love of our Savior Jesus Christ through His atoning sacrifice. This love carried me through my trials until I was set apart as a full-time missionary in the Philippines Cauayan Mission.
A few months later, I received a letter from my family telling me they were waiting for my return. I never lost faith and hope that my whole family would become members of the Church, be sealed in the temple for all eternity, and be with our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, someday.
After returning from my mission, I began to see that dream come true. I was able to baptize my mother, who is now preparing to go to the temple. I see my family often, and we are closer than ever before.

An example of brotherhood in action occurred a few weeks ago in the San Fernando Valley in California. The major jolt of the earthquake was at six o’clock in the morning; but home teachers, Relief Society leaders, and priesthood quorums almost immediately began to do their part in helping hundreds who were evacuated from their homes. Many of these families found refuge in the homes of Church members.
Within thirty minutes a pair of home teachers stopped by their bishop’s home to check for special instructions before making a quick survey of their assigned families. Other home teachers called priesthood leaders, who in turn reported to bishops, and bishops reported to stake presidents. Within six hours after the first jolt, some wards could account for most of their members.
Stake presidents attempted to pinpoint the hardest hit areas and offer assistance where it was most needed. A priests quorum in Granada Hills moved a family with seven children to another home. A first counselor in the bishopric woke up as his chimney toppled onto his roof, breaking through some of the rafters and knocking a hole in his ceiling; but he said, “I wasn’t as concerned about that as I was my neighbor’s home, which immediately caught fire. No one had any water, so we got up on our roofs to beat out sparks.”
A bishop who was on his way to work when the quake struck was concerned about being unable to contact his home or ward members for several hours. But in his absence the priesthood members had gone into action, and by early afternoon every family in the ward had been contacted. His wife reported that as soon as the telephone was restored to order, she had constant calls from families offering to take evacuated people into their homes. “People have been great,” she reported. “It renews your faith the way they pitch in when the chips are down.”

The big glass jar had the words “Fill Your Life with Service” on the side. Each week the young women and their leaders from the Titusville Ward in Florida anonymously wrote down the acts of service they had given during the week. The slips of paper were then rolled, taped, and placed in the jar. The young women used yellow paper, and the leaders used green. Plus, on one Mutual night for each of the six months of the project the young women held a service activity.
The first month focused on service to family, week two on friends, and then the priesthood, neighbors, community, and the world. The slips of paper revealed all kinds of service: “I helped my brother with his homework,” “I baked my friend a cake,” “I volunteered at the animal shelter,” “I sent some mail to missionaries from our ward.”
Jessica Crook, a Beehive, said, “I think the activities helped all of us understand more about helping and serving others.” In the end there were more yellow papers than green, so the young women were rewarded with a dinner prepared and served by their leaders.

Former Student Life Vice President and Interim President of BYU-Idaho Robert Wilkes had a gift for teaching using stories. One principle he taught employees and their spouses at another Student Life retreat came from a story about his dad who had old, weathered, worn-out, ugly fence posts. He determined it was time to replace them and went and tore them out.

Most people would have burned the fence posts or thrown them away. His dad, however, was a fine carpenter and saw the potential that still laid within the old fence posts. He took them to a mill where there were cut into pieces which he then carefully crafted into beautiful cedar wood chests which he then gifted to his granddaughters.

From this story we learn that there were different choices that could be made with the old fence posts, each having different outcomes. Like Brother Wilkes’s father, how can we see the potential for good in others and make the investment of our time and nurturing to bring about a similar transformation like the old worn-out fence posts into beautiful cedar chests? Such transformations can even take place with ourselves.