Gospel Story Finder

My teachers were heaven-sent. May I mention but a few: our former stake president, Harold B. Lee; President Marion G. Romney; and President J. Reuben Clark.
President Clark too was a master teacher. It was my privilege during those years to assist him in the preparation of his manuscripts that they might find their way into printed volumes. What a unique and profitable experience to be with him frequently. Knowing that I was a new bishop presiding over a difficult ward, he emphasized the need for me to know my people, to understand their circumstances, and, in the spirit of tenderness, to minister to their needs. One day he recounted the example of the Savior as recorded in Luke, chapter seven, verses eleven through fifteen:
“And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him. …
“When he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. …
“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
“And he came and touched the bier. … And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.
“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.”
When President Clark closed the Bible, I noticed that he was weeping. In a quiet voice he said, “Tom, be kind to the widows, and look after the poor.”

Kendall Bean is a concert pianist who has been playing since the age of four. During high school he frequently performed with the high school orchestra and appeared as soloist in performances of Beethoven’s Second Piano Concerto and Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin. He appeared in the Northern California Junior Bach Festival two years in a row, and in 1971 played a solo in the Tabernacle with the Mormon Youth Symphony as the winner in the MIA Young Artists Festival. During 1974 he held a solo recital at BYU, won the Wakefield Award for piano performance and appeared in the Stellar Student Temple Hill Organ Recital Series.
Kendall was doing very well, and it is understandable that he had second thoughts about leaving it behind. While he was at the Mission Training Center, he found himself worrying that the Lord wouldn’t want him to pursue music after his mission. He wondered if he would have to live a completely different life-style, and if so, what his friends would think.
Kendall was fortunate to be writing to a friend who was very encouraging and supportive. “She told me that now wasn’t the time to worry about such things, and in essence, that it was only a tool of the adversary to keep me from the work I was supposed to do. She wrote that if I would serve the Lord with all my might, mind, and strength at this time in my life, when the time came to make these important decisions, I would be entitled to his help and assistance.”
As it happened, Kendall’s worries were unfounded. The Lord didn’t want him to give up music; to the contrary, Kendall and other missionaries with musical ability were able to use their talents as a missionary tool. Proselyting activities in his mission included open houses and recitals to which many nonmembers came.
Kendall and others were amazed to find that they could practice adequately for these recitals in only an hour or two during free time while the others were playing basketball. “I found that the Lord preserved this talent for me throughout those two years, and it was there when I needed it. Usually, no one would even have considered doing a recital with such little preparation, but when we dedicate ourselves to the Lord, we can do marvelous things.”
The year after Kendall returned home, he played a solo with the Utah Symphony Orchestra and took second place in the Utah State Fair piano competition and in the state of Utah at the Utah Music Teachers Association competitions. (Incidentally, the person who took first place in both instances was Mack Wilberg, another returned missionary.) Kendall is presently director of the Young Adult Stake Choir in El Cerrito, California. He has received a scholarship for graduate study in music at the University of Texas at Austin.

The wind was howling and shaking the palm trees by the time Grandma’s car reached Ana Luisa’s house. “Grab your things, girls, and go inside,” Grandma said. “I’m going to find some rocks to put behind the car’s tires.”
“Why?” Rebecca asked.
“So maybe the car won’t blow away,” Grandma said.
Rebecca and Sarah looked at each other, their eyes wide.
The girls didn’t remember the last hurricane that had come to Puerto Rico eight years ago, when Sarah was two and Rebecca just one. But they knew that the Arecibo River had flooded their neighborhood and that a lot of houses had been destroyed. Now Hurricane Georges was on the way, and newscasters warned that this hurricane might be even worse.
“So, girls, are you ready for Hurricane Georges?” asked Ana Luisa as they stepped through the front door.
“Brother Soto came to our house this morning and nailed boards on all the windows. Grandma says we need to pray that everything will turn out all right,” Sarah said.
“That’s right,” Ana Luisa said. “Heavenly Father will watch over us.”
Ana Luisa was a friend from their new church. Even though the girls were worried, Ana Luisa’s comforting words and the familiar smell of rice and beans inside her cozy house made them feel better.
The sister missionaries, who had taught Grandma and the girls the gospel just three months ago, were spending the night at Ana Luisa’s too. “It’s going to be fun,” Sister Lewis, one of the missionaries, told them, “like a party, except with really bad weather.”
For a while it was like a party. They ate dinner, then munched on cookies and listened to the radio. Every once in a while they heard a crash outside. Rebecca and Sarah wondered if Grandma’s car had blown away after all, but it was too dark to see.
Later, the lights flickered and went out. As Rebecca made a funny face in the beam of her flashlight, Grandma said, “Now is probably a good time for bed.”
After they put on their pajamas, Grandma called Sarah and Rebecca back to the living room. “We’re going to say a prayer together,” Grandma said. Sister Lewis asked Heavenly Father to keep them all safe during the hurricane and to protect Rebecca and Sarah’s house. Hearing Sister Lewis pray helped the girls feel calmer.* * *
The next morning, when Sarah cranked open the metal window slats, Ana Luisa’s street looked like it belonged on a different planet. Grandma’s car was still there, but some trees had fallen down, and sheets of metal from people’s roofs were on Ana Luisa’s lawn. Pigeons waddled helplessly down the sidewalk, too heavy with rainwater to fly. “If Ana Luisa’s street looks like this,” Sarah asked Rebecca nervously, “what do you think ours looks like?”
Early that morning Grandma had driven over to check on their house. She finally came back around lunchtime. “The neighborhood is flooded,” she said. “I couldn’t even get near our street.”
Rebecca wanted to cry. Sarah asked, “What do we do now, Grandma?”
“If it’s OK with Ana Luisa, we’ll stay here for a few more days. Maybe by then the water will go down, and we can go home.”* * *
Everyone from church wanted to help Grandma, Rebecca, and Sarah. Ana Luisa cooked dinner for them, and the sister missionaries brought clothes that Sister Lewis’s family had sent. Bishop Espinosa even came to give Grandma a blessing when she was feeling sick. But it was hard not to be in their own house and harder still not to know if their house was even there anymore.
After eight days the streets in their neighborhood were finally clear. Buckled into the backseat of Grandma’s car, Sarah and Rebecca felt a twist of excitement and fear in their stomachs. As they rode, they saw houses with walls that had been blown down. Broken tables, waterlogged mattresses, and mud-crusted refrigerators lay abandoned on the side of the road.
“What if our house is gone?” Rebecca asked.
“Then Heavenly Father will help us find a new one,” Grandma replied.
The streets in their neighborhood were still oozing with thick black mud, so they had to drive very slowly. Finally, Grandma turned the corner onto their street.
“I see it!” Rebecca shouted. “Our house is still there!”
“There’s a hole in the roof,” Sarah pointed out.
Inside, everything smelled musty. The girls leaned their mattresses against the wall to air them out and helped Grandma wipe up the water that had come in through the hole in the roof. “Can we stay here tonight, Grandma?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t think so. We’ll have to wait a few more nights until we can get the roof fixed.”
Rebecca sighed and sank onto the damp couch. “I wish we could stay.”
“I’m just glad our house is still here,” Sarah said.
“Heavenly Father listened to our prayers,” Grandma said. Then, looking through the doorway, she pointed toward the street. “I think He’s still listening.”
Outside, a large truck with a crane was pulling up. Bishop Espinosa and Brother Soto hopped down, along with some other men from their ward.
“Do you need any help?” the bishop called. “Maybe some people to fix your roof?”
Sarah and Rebecca grabbed hands and squealed. “Does this mean we can stay, Grandma? Can we sleep here tonight?”
Grandma smiled and nodded. “Welcome home, girls.”

Anna liked going to Sunbeam class. She liked her teachers, Brother and Sister Lee. She liked the lessons about Jesus. She liked knowing the words to the songs.
But now she wouldn’t be in the Sunbeam class anymore. Today she would be in a new Primary class. She would have new teachers. She would sit in a new row in singing time. She would have a new classroom.
Anna was nervous. She wanted to sit with Sister Lee. She tried not to cry as she walked into the Primary room.
One of her new teachers smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Sister Ball. What’s your name?”
“I’m Anna,” Anna said.
Sister Ball patted the chair next to her. “Would you like to sit by me? This is my first time in Primary.”
Anna sat down by Sister Ball. “I can help you. I know all the songs!”
“Thank you,” said Sister Ball. “That would be a big help.”
Soon her friend Beth came in. Last year she was in the Sunbeam class with Anna. Beth sat by Anna.
“This is Beth,” Anna told Sister Ball.
Anna smiled. She liked her new Primary class after all!

Early one Saturday morning while serving as stake president, I received a phone call from Bishop Nelson asking for help. He said the Janzen family from his ward, while on a family outing in the mountains, had lost their seven-year-old son, Mathew. Darkness had brought the search to a halt Friday evening. But within a short period of time Saturday morning, over a hundred brothers and sisters from the stake drove to the rescue site to join the search. After several hours of combing the trails, roads, and backwoods, they finally found little Mathew. Can you imagine the joy as he was swept into the arms of his mother and father? I listened through tears of grateful parents as they asked, “What happened?” Then this reply: “I took the wrong turn and got lost. When it got dark I tried to build a shelter and sleep, but it was so cold I couldn’t. I knelt down on a rock and prayed five times last night and again this morning. You taught me if I was ever lost, if I would pray to Heavenly Father and stay on the trail, I would find you. Heavenly Father did answer my prayers.”

One Sunday evening, all of the youth and their parents were invited to a meeting to launch Moroni’s Promise. It was the young, valiant captains of ten who gave the vision, reviewed the promise (see Moro. 10:3–5), spoke of agency and obedience, explained the program, and called for volunteers to join one of their teams.
One young captain of ten, Michelle Gardner, referred to the promise made by President Gordon B. Hinkley to all the members of the Church who read the Book of Mormon. He promised those who read daily that “there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to his commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God” (Ensign, Nov. 1979, p. 9).
Appealing to the youth for whom she now felt a keen sense of responsibility, she added her own personal testimony. “I know when I read each day, especially when I study and don’t just skim over what I’m reading, I do feel a greater desire to live the commandments and to have the Spirit of the Lord in my life.”
Individualized packets were provided which included the quote from Moroni printed on parchment ready for framing, a system for recording progress, recommended target dates, helpful study methods, a promise of celebration stations, and a letter to be sent to a trusted friend or relative requesting support and continuous encouragement during the coming months as they read the Book of Mormon. An application form was also provided requesting the parent’s signature as well as the signature of a member of the bishopric.
Each participant was invited to add his or her own signature as an indication of willingness to be diligent in endeavoring to reach the goal of having read the entire Book of Mormon within the set time limit. This could be accomplished by reading approximately 16 pages per week. A captain of ten also signed the application indicating a willingness to be in touch each week to determine progress and provide encouragement to each member of his or her team.
Individual progress was not a public matter. However, increased interest was awakened when the aggregate “scores” of the teams were recorded on an attractive chart that was periodically displayed in the chapel foyer with pictures of various activities.
As eager participants finished the last verse of Alma 63, “And thus ended the account of Alma,” they would rush, regardless of the hour, to Sister Bonnie Guthrie, who helped with the records, assisted in making calls for captains as needed, and dispensed T-shirts to each one finishing the book of Alma. The T-shirts with “STOMP” (for “Students Trying Out Moroni’s Promise”) printed in bold letters across the front provided the incentive that urged many through the pages of Alma.
A celebration station was an event scheduled at regular intervals along the way to give strong incentives and provide continuous encouragement to the captains, who in turn, inspired their team members as they made their weekly contacts. The captains were to then give an accounting to the specialist in a brief weekly meeting following sacrament meeting. Many, many extra calls at various times were required to accomplish this necessary follow-up.
As the group completed Alma, a celebration station was scheduled. The snow had been falling all night, and it was unseasonably cold, but nothing would daunt the plans for the scheduled tree planting celebration. A flowering cherry tree had been selected. The hole was dug, and all ward members were invited to gather at the church.
Robert Davis stood before the group holding a scroll containing all the names of those who at that time had finished reading Alma. He rolled the scroll, put it in a plastic-coated container, sealed it, and then respectfully placed it in the hole at the base of the tree and explained, “You’re probably wondering why we are planting a tree. If you will recall in Alma the planting of a seed which became a tree has meaning because of the analogy to a growing testimony.” He then read Alma 32:27–41, “But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.”
On Mother’s Day following sacrament meeting, the entire ward was invited to gather around the flagpole for yet another celebration station. Richard Newman and Mike Bettilyon, both captains of ten, unfolded the beautifully designed flag with the large dark blue letters “Moroni’s Promise” centered in a white open field.
There were other names on that flag also. Those who had finished the Book of Helaman had added their signatures to the flag as an official Mother’s Day record. Bishop Bradford reminded everyone of the stripling warriors who did not fear death for they had been taught by their mothers that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them (see Alma 56:47). The captains attached the flag and pulled the ropes raising it to the very top of the long silver pole. Hearts were opened and feelings were tender as expressed by a younger member of the group, who whispering to a friend close by, said, “My name is on that flag,” and his friend responded reverently, “So is mine.”
By now the flowering cherry tree planted earlier was bursting into bloom nearby as a reminder of growing testimonies.
What difference has all this effort made? There have been 120 readers, 38 adults and 82 youth, participating in Moroni’s Promise.
Thirteen-year-old Wid Covey, standing before an audience, volunteered his testimony, “I’m thankful for this Moroni’s Promise program because it helps me understand the scriptures. When I sit down with my dad to read the Book of Mormon he helps me understand about it also. I’m thankful for Michelle Gardner. She calls me every week, and it helps me a lot and she encourages me.”
Sister Margaret Kirkham reported, “Our whole family looks forward to Richard Newman, our captain of ten, coming to encourage us. This project has been a great influence to our entire family.”
Bishop Bradford reflected on the past eight months. “It has made a great difference. There are few activities that could have unified our youth as well as this. I can’t say that all our youth now have a strong personal testimony of the Book of Mormon, but it’s a super beginning. With the help of our inspired specialist, a great number of young people will be better missionaries in every aspect of their lives, and all of them are better prepared to withstand the evils of the world.”

Often our opportunities to show our love come unexpectedly. An example of such an opportunity appeared in a newspaper article in October 1981. So impressed was I with the love and compassion related therein that I have kept the clipping in my files for over 30 years.

The article indicates that an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage, Alaska, to Seattle, Washington—a flight carrying 150 passengers—was diverted to a remote Alaskan town in order to transport a gravely injured child. The two-year-old boy had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home. The town was 450 miles (725 km) south of Anchorage and was certainly not on the flight path. However, medics at the scene had sent out a frantic request for help, and so the flight was diverted to pick up the child and take him to Seattle so that he could be treated in a hospital.

When the flight touched down near the remote town, medics informed the pilot that the boy was bleeding so badly he could not survive the flight to Seattle. A decision was made to fly another 200 miles (320 km) out of the way to Juneau, Alaska, the nearest city with a hospital.

After transporting the boy to Juneau, the flight headed for Seattle, now hours behind schedule. Not one passenger complained, even though most of them would miss appointments and connecting flights. In fact, as the minutes and hours ticked by, they took up a collection, raising a considerable sum for the boy and his family.

As the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot announced that he had received word by radio that the boy was going to be all right.

When missionaries entered the Ghana Missionary Training Center on February 27, 2020, little did they know they would be the last group of missionaries to complete their training in those well-known halls for some time. The COVID-19 pandemic stopped many parts of life, but the Lord’s work continued, and His missionaries needed to be trained. The next group of missionaries called were originally to arrive for training at the MTC in Accra on March 19, 2020. Instead, they were the first group in the history of the Ghana MTC to experience their missionary training online, and they began on March 26.
Online training was brand new for missionaries and the trainers. Content taught at the MTC is the same as is taught online, but many adjustments had to be made. Trainers had to learn the Zoom platform, and many had never used it. The transition to online took only a week in the regular missionary training schedule.
Some missionaries struggled with the changes. Elder Ejodamen, from Nigeria, was called to serve in the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission. “I was supposed to report to the MTC May 24, 2020, and that was the period that COVID-19 really hit very hard. So, we were told we would attend the online MTC. It was literally like my dream has been shattered. I have heard wonderful experiences about the MTC. So, I was not going to the MTC. It was a very hard time.”
Local church units also had to adjust. Many newly called missionaries did not have access to stable internet with the amount of data that is required to stream video meetings. The Church Facilities Management group ensured that the required internet and equipment was at stake centers so missionaries could be trained. However, it is not always easy for Church Members to get to church buildings. Several MTC trainees had to move away from home and into apartments with full-time missionaries who were closer to the stake meeting houses.
“I used to stay in the mountain, so my bishop told me I should come and stay with the missionary sisters in the missionary apartment. They used to give me transport to pay bike to come to chapel to take my MTC class,” explained Sister Combay of the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission.
Brother Larios Avana, trainer and MTC second counselor, originally from the Republic of Benin, told of helping a sister who did not know how to use a computer. “She doesn’t know how to press the mouse. Then I move the webcam from the top of the monitor to my desk for her to see my mouse, and I show her, ‘This is where you have to touch. Press here so you can do what you must do.’”
Missionaries already serving in the field were a great help. Sister Combay said, “I did not know how to use computer, but they (sister missionaries) taught me, and I started using the computer. When we had class, I was the one putting on the computer. . . . So, before our instructor came to start class, I already knew how to put computer on and to go onto the system.”
Trainer Emmanuel Dogbey of Ghana explained, “In the MTC, the lessons we teach fall into different categories. We have doctrinal lessons we teach. We have improving finding and teaching skills. We have language and others.”
Teaching adjustments were made. MTC trainer Lorenzo Osei-Tutu from Ghana explained, “We have cards that we show to missionaries, especially language missionaries, and so during the early stages, you want to bring the card to the camera to get them to see what is there. Then maybe someone had a break though that, ‘Hey, you can use this app to design this and then share your screen.’ So, we were still learning the context in where to teach.”
Sister Kainessie, serving in the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission, talked about the early start to online MTC classes. “I have to ride my bike, and also I have to get up around 6:00 because they said we should be at the chapel around 6:30 for us to prepare to get our breakfast.”
Elder Melo, from Mozambique and called to the Ghana Accra West Mission said, “I confess that my first time I was sleeping because they were just speaking English. No one was there to translate, and English was very hard. . . . During that time, they would teach me small, small, little bit, little bit, and I was just understanding some words in English.”
Learning a language is hard work. When students were sitting in a classroom with them, trainers could easily spot someone having difficulty. Avana explained that in language studies, the trainers help the new missionaries to set a specific goal related to learning a language. Perhaps the goal is a number of scriptures to memorize or a number of words to learn in a new language. Then they help the missionaries set a study plan for how they are going to achieve the goal. That same practice applies to online MTC. The trainers, “assign them to mentors, return missionaries in their stake who speak their mission language. They are able to practice with those people outside of class,” explained Avana.
Because the MTC trainers do not have the ability to see the missionaries during breaks, on the sports court, or in the cafeteria like they might in the physical MTC, they make extra efforts to create connections with missionaries attending the virtual MTC. Avana said, “We reach out to them through phone calls even before their training begins. We call them and ask them, ‘Do you have a cell phone? Do you have WhatsApp? Is there anyone nearby that we can call to reach out to you?’ All those options are set before their training begins.” Connections with new missionaries are also accomplished through holding personal interviews.
Sister Combay stated that after she went into the field full-time, “I was missing the MTC because our instructors were so lovely. They were nice to us, and they also teach us the things we should know. Even sometimes they call us for interview, one by one. We talk to them, share our problem with them.”
Just like in the physical MTC, the missionaries in the virtual MTC are organized into districts, a group of missionary companionships that attend all the training together. Within these virtual groups, the connections that are made become close, just like those in the physical MTC.
Ejodamen said, “The online experience with MTC, one thing that stands out for me is the experience I had to meet different people. It was something really very wonderful because we put our minds together, we studied together, we discussed together. But though it was not in physical contact, it was really wonderful. They were really nice people that I saw on the screen. We talked. We laughed, and they were cool MTC instructors that really helped us. My attending online MTC and someone attending real MTC is the same thing.”
Dogbey explained the MTC pattern of teaching a lesson and having a practice activity. “At the end of the lesson, we ask the missionary to set a goal and then make a plan. Identify what time of the day is he going to accomplish that goal.”
Osei-Tutu added that trainers have worked to adapt the lessons to the missionary’s life circumstances. “We ask them to set goals to live by the things they are learning. That experience is playing a huge role to help the missionaries live the doctrine, to understand it more, to change their lives.”
Ghana MTC president, Paul W. Craig, explained that he and his wife have the “responsibility for the ecclesiastical, spiritual, motivational, worthiness, physical and emotional welfare of our missionaries.” From the beginning of online MTC, the Missionary and MTC departments set up that questions, concerns, health, or spiritual issues are to be addressed through stake presidents. The mission president and his wife continue to encourage the spiritual growth of missionaries through weekly devotionals over Zoom.
“Gratefully, the local leaders and stake presidents, they really responded to the Missionary Department’s call to be part of this work,” said Osei Tutu. “Having them at the right hand and seeing them really minister to the missionaries helped in this transition.”
Sister Kpullum, serving in Sierra Leone Freetown Mission, talked about the change in her perspective of online MTC. When she began, she was thinking, “Why us? So, we do have that doubt, but, actually, the online MTC was really good. They do not lack anything. I think our instructors did very well for us. Yeah. They always make sure we have the best learning, that even if we go out there, we will not see things strange. They really taught us to become a good missionary.”
Kainessie said, “The MTC grew me in a way that I learned how to teach and also how to approach my interested members. Even when I went into the field, I did not find it difficult.”
The online MTC has had some unexpected benefits. “For missionaries who come from backgrounds that their parents are not members, they now do not get to just see their children (or siblings) leave and come after two years or 18 months completely changed, but they get to see a portion of that change happen. And I think it is a blessing for missionaries coming from such backgrounds,” said Osei-Tutu.
Dogbey added, “When they leave the MTC online training and get to the field, they are able to also teach interested people and members through online means, through Zoom, WhatsApp, and Messenger. They can easily schedule an appointment with an interested person and teach that person seated in the comfort of their apartment.”
“I feel that is what President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) prophesied about in 1974 that in our time there will be a better trained missionary force.1 We have seen this,” concluded Dogbey.

Usually our fears are only imagined. When I was a little boy growing up in Oakley, Idaho, we had a long line of poplar trees growing along the road leading to our home. When it was dark, I used to run as fast as I could past those poplar trees. I always imagined that there was something behind one of those trees waiting to jump out at me. Of course in the daylight, I knew it was all in my mind. That is how it is with our fears—99 percent of the things we worry about are not real.

Ask for a father’s blessing. Matt had a special experience with this. Asking his dad for a blessing led him to date his now wife.

After a spiritually trying summer, Matt was eager for the fresh start that a new semester of school would bring. He asked his dad to give him a father’s blessing. In that blessing, Matt was specifically told to “listen to and counsel with” his mother. In the past, he hadn’t talked to his mom frequently while at school. That semester, however, he felt inspired to call his mom to talk about his dating life. He said that doing so helped him stay “focused on why I was dating and where I wanted my future to go.” His mom’s advice proved valuable: that semester Matt met a woman who became his wife. About this experience, he said, “I’m incredibly grateful for the worthiness and guidance of my father and the focus and direction from my mother that helped me through that time of meeting and courting my wonderful wife!”

Elder Marlin K. Jensen described an experience he had as a bishop, sorting some real concerns of a struggling ward member.
“We had a very honest conversation about the struggle he was having. . . . After exploring various possibilities . . ., none of which seemed to appeal to him very much, I asked him with a tone of frustration in my voice just what we could do to help him. . . .
“‘Well, bishop,’ he said, . . . ‘for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, please don’t assign me a friend.’
“I learned a great lesson that day. No one wants to become a ’project’; we all want spontaneously to be loved. And, if we are to have friends, we want them to be genuine and sincere, not ‘assigned’. . . .
“My message today is very simple: if we truly want to be tools in the hands of our Heavenly Father . . . we need only to be a friend.”8

When Student Association president Mike Peterson of Santa Maria, California, learned that the local library had only one book published by the Latter-day Saint Church and that it was a Book of Mormon, he knew something had to be done about it. Mike and Garry Moore consulted with William O. Bradford, stake president, and thirty volumes of books about the Church and a subscription to the New Era were presented to the library.

This advice was found and followed by Joe, who had been asked to get up at six in the morning and drive a crippled child 50 miles (80 km) to a hospital. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver’s seat, mumbling thanks through her tears. Joe said everything would be all right and drove off quickly.
After a mile or so, the child inquired shyly, “You’re God, aren’t you?”
“I’m afraid not, little fellow,” replied Joe.
“I thought you must be God,” said the child. “I heard Mother praying next to my bed and asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other boys. Do you work for God?”
“Sometimes, I guess,” said Joe, “but not regularly. I think I’m going to work for Him a lot more from now on.”

There’s a hospital in New York called a foundling hospital that cares for orphaned infants. Their mortality rate some years ago was unbelievable. About two out of three died, no matter what the directors and doctors did in terms of constant surveillance, medical care, all the things that you do to keep a child alive. Two out of three still died.
And then they discovered a ward in that hospital where all of these little kids were flourishing. There was a light in their eyes; they would eat instead of ignore their food; they smiled and gooed, and their crying wasn’t a chronic sick cry. It was a “let you know what is needed” cry.
They couldn’t understand why these children were so hale and hearty—until they discovered old Anna, not a nurse but a washwoman. A huge, older woman, she would strap (she knew she shouldn’t, but she waited till nobody was watching) a little baby on each hip, and then while she was working along she would cluck, and put a hand under each baby’s head, and say nice things.
These children lived because they were loved! The others died because they weren’t. Love is a matter of life and death, and you’d better believe it!

One time when I was on the Priesthood Missionary Committee of the Church, I traveled to a conference with President Marion G. Romney, who at that time was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Between conference sessions we walked around the parking lot of the Pocatello East Stake Center. It was a cool, blustery day. He stopped and put his arm through mine, and then he said, “Brother Featherstone, do you think the brethren of the priesthood will ever come to understand that they were born to serve their fellowmen?” And I ask you, brethren, do you think we will?

One cold winter morning he arose at 5:00 A.M. so that he could get in some early morning practice at the gym. Hearing him move about the house, I too arose.
While he showered, I cooked his breakfast. I put more slices of bacon in the frying pan than would have been allowed had his mother been there to supervise. Three eggs soon sizzled in the pan. Toast was in the toaster. I then blended some milk, ice cream, and protein powder (I had heard that such powder contained “rebounds”). He seemed most pleased when I placed such delicious food before him. As he ate, I sat and looked on.
Washing down the last piece of toast with the protein milkshake he said, “Got to go, pops.”
As we both stood, I said, “Could we just take a minute to kneel down and pray together?”
Without responding with words, he quickly knelt. Kneeling very near him, I spoke for the two of us. I thanked the Lord for such a son and expressed my gratitude for the love that bound the two of us together.
After many heartfelt words, we arose from our knees. Feeling so close to him, I embraced him. Then before he knew what was happening, I pulled his head down and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
He stepped back and grinned and said, “Gee, pops, I wonder how many other Provo High players got a kiss from their father this morning.”
I struck him on the arm and said, “Get out of here or there will be at least one Provo High player who will get a kick in the pants this morning.”
I stood at the window and watched him until he had disappeared across the snow-covered landscape.

I had an extremely frightening experience several years ago while flying from Reno, Nevada, to San Rafael, California, with a friend in his twin-engine Aztec airplane.
When we left Reno, the weather was a little cloudy, and my friend was somewhat worried about it. Because of his concern, we landed at the Lake Tahoe airport to get a second report on the weather. It did not indicate that the weather was too bad, so we continued our flight to San Rafael.
Our destination was an airport in the northern part of San Francisco Bay. As we approached the Bay area, the clouds became increasingly low and dense. We tried to stay under the clouds so we could see the water and thus keep our bearings visually. But suddenly we flew into very dense clouds and could see nothing.
When you fly into such clouds, you become totally disoriented. You do not know whether you are flying straight, sideways, or upside down. You lose your sense of forward motion, and it takes a few minutes for the pilot to orient himself from visual flying to instrument flying. At 180 miles an hour, you move a long distance in that few minutes and can get into serious trouble very quickly. Unfortunately, my friend had not flown entirely on instruments for two years.
My friend struggled intensely and was near the point of panic as he tried to recall all that he had learned about instrument flying. I knew very little about instrument flying, so I could not help him. All I could do was put my hand on his shoulder and tell him to take a deep breath and get hold of himself. The only instrument that I could read was the altimeter. I said, “We are now at 500 feet. Don’t make any quick moves; just think it out, and you can pull us through.”
It seemed an eternity before he finally made radio contact with Hamilton Air Force Base. He said to them, “I am in trouble; please help me.” The air traffic controllers had us on their radar screen and immediately began to help my friend regain control of the plane. They told us where we were and started to give us instructions to help guide us to safety.
When my friend heard the voice from Hamilton Tower, he regained a sense of confidence that enabled him to gain control. But he knew that the plane was completely out of control and that our chances of pulling out of this danger were marginal. We could easily go the wrong way. The foothills, buildings, towers, and bridges were not far away. At one time we dropped to only 200 feet, and must have been flying upside down at one time because the maps and other items in the visor above my head fell into my lap.
At the peak of this crisis, an instant replay of my entire life flashed through my mind. I thought of my wife, my seven children, my parents, my business partners, the 37 priests whom I was the adviser to, and many other things. I prayed fervently all through this crisis and made a commitment more deep and more sincere than ever before in my life. I began, “Heavenly Father, guide us out of this thick, dense cloud, and help my friend remember all he knows about instrument flying.” And then I said, “In the name of Jesus Christ and by the power of the holy priesthood, bless my friend that he might regain control.” My prayer continued. I committed to Heavenly Father that if he would help us, I would place my life in his hands. I promised him that I would be what he wanted me to be.
Finally, we saw the lights on the runway. The white line in the center of the runway was a most welcome sight.

My missionary companion and I were eating a quick dinner at a member’s house one Sunday evening in December when we heard a knock on the door. There were the youth from the branch singing. We were serving in the Joliet Illinois Second (Spanish) Branch. It was nice to see the youth serving and to hear them singing familiar Christmas carols.
Later that evening we were visiting with one of our investigator families when we heard a knock on the door. To our surprise, there stood the same group of youth singing Christmas carols for our investigators.
I was impressed that they would think not only to visit people they knew from the branch, but also to visit the people the missionaries were teaching. I thought it was a wonderful way for the youth to get involved in missionary work.
Our investigators were impressed for a very different reason, however. After the youth left, they told us how amazed they were that a group of teenagers would give up their Sunday evening to bring others some Christmas cheer. They commented on how many youth today seem selfish and would not do such a thing but that the youth in our Church were different. They wanted their children to be like these young men and women.
Soon after Christmas this wonderful family decided to be baptized, and I know one of the influences on their decision to join the Church was the members’ testimonies and examples. They could also see the light in the members’ faces. I know they saw it that night when those youth gave of their time to spread the spirit of Christmas.

Today, the difference between who I was then and who I am now is immense. From September 2024 to April 2025, I took various small jobs to cover basic expenses while coaching gave me motivation and taught me discipline. I wanted to create professional opportunities for myself, so I registered for three different exams: prison guard, professional tourism qualification, and a SEFI (a local employment agency) training program.
Thanks to my faith in God, my perseverance, and my coaching sessions, I now hold a professional qualification in tourism. I passed the entry exams for the prison guard role, and I’m currently enrolled in “Business Creator and Manager” training, an intensive three-month program. Opportunities are opening up for me!
On a personal level, I’m now reflecting on finding my eternal companion, someone to build my eternal family with. Putting Christ at the centre of my life has become a clear and natural choice.
Coaching has had a powerful impact on my life. Without those regular sessions, I would still be lost—trapped in fear, doubt, and lack of self-confidence. Today, I know what I want. I’m ready to move forward. And I can finally say that I’m proud of myself and the path I’ve walked, even though it’s been filled with trials.
With the Lord by my side and inspiring people like my coach, I know where I’m headed. I can’t wait to have the ideal job so I can, in turn, give back and thank those who supported me when I had nothing. That truly means a lot to me.

For Clara Leticia Cruz Cano of Puerto Rico, her love of the Book of Mormon started when she was about four. She noticed that her older brother got to take a turn reading in their family’s nightly scripture study, and she wanted a turn also. She asked her parents to help her, and soon she was part of the reading circle.
At age 12, Clara took on a new challenge. Instead of reading in her native Spanish, she read the Book of Mormon in English. At age 14, she read it in French; at age 15, in Portuguese; and at 16, in Italian.
In August 2005, when President Gordon B. Hinckley asked Latter-day Saints to read or reread the Book of Mormon, Clara was already into it in German.
“This is harder, but I will get through it,” she said.
Her reading in various languages has expanded her vocabulary. “When I come to a word I don’t know, I look it up. Soon I get tired of looking it up, so I memorize it,” she explains. Her study of languages has also helped in her schoolwork. Last year, at 17, Clara became the top public school graduate on her island.
Clara has uncovered some gems in her multilingual study. She even found that her middle name, Leticia, means “gladness” in the Italian translation (see 2 Nephi 1:21; 8:3).
Like some others, Clara has a collection of copies of the Book of Mormon in several languages. But, she says, “I decided I wouldn’t have any copies of the Book of Mormon I can’t read.”
That means her next project is already on her bookshelf. Her bishop, Hector Alvarez, saw her perusing a copy of the Book of Mormon in his home and gave it to her. She now has the self-assigned opportunity to learn not only another language but also a new alphabet. The book is in Russian.