Gospel Story Finder

There is no evidence that anyone in that small gathering at Hiram, Ohio, on the 1st day of November, 1831, beard any voice, saw any light, felt within his soul the impact of the same ideas as were dictated by the Prophet to his clerk as revelation. It is not surprising then that some still doubted that the various writings presented to them and the message then delivered were revelations from the Almighty. Some of the revelations bore so patently the form of expression of the Prophet that William E. McLellin challenged the Prophet openly, charging that Joseph had written some of the so-called revelations entirely out of his own mind.

McLellin’s challenge, together with the feeling that others might be similarly skeptical, caused the Prophet to turn again to the Lord for aid. Whether he prayed vocally or otherwise does not appear in the record, but the result was another revelation:
“And now I, the Lord, give unto you a testimony of the truth of these commandments which are lying before you.
“Your eyes have been upon my servant Joseph Smith, Jun., and his language you have known, and his imperfections you have known; and you have sought in your hearts knowledge that you might express beyond his language; this you also know.
“Now, seek ye out of the Book of Commandments, even the least that is among them, and appoint him that is the most wise among you;
“Or, if there be any among you that shall make one like unto it, then ye are justified in saying that ye do not know that they are true;
“But if ye cannot make one like unto it, ye are under condemnation if ye do not bear record that they are true.
“For ye know that there is no unrighteousness in them, and that which is righteous cometh down from above, from the Father of lights.” (D&C 67:4–9.)
The above challenge calls for a unique test of revelation applicable to any age. It is a challenge to all thinking men—it is simplicity itself. It reflects the so oft-repeated introduction to God’s word, “Let us reason together, that ye may understand.” (D&C 50:10.)

McLellin, perhaps under the urging of others, accepted the challenge. He retired from the conference and, in the solitude of his room, attempted to write that which might sound like a revelation from the Lord. On November 2 he appeared again in the conference and with tears in his eyes begged the forgiveness of the Prophet, of his brethren, and of the Lord. He could not write a revelation. Try as he might, he could not write that which would sound as if it were a revelation from the Lord. Everyone who puts the matter to the test must come to the same conclusion. The uninspired man can only write those thoughts presently in his mind; and when he has put them in writing, he finds that they are but a rehash of ideas long known to mankind. The writings may have literary or educational value—but if nothing new is revealed, they are not revelation. On the other hand, if writings enrich the world with ideas and information not previously known, then by the same test, they are revelation, and, the newly found truth should be accepted and followed.

The experience and testimony of McLellin had a profound effect upon the little gathering at Hiram. One after another arose and bore testimony concerning God’s dealings with the Prophet Joseph. Following these testimonies, the conference authorized the publication of the revelations as the Book of Commandments, and appointed Oliver Cowdery to go to Independence, Missouri, to supervise the publication.

When Thomas Lillbäck was 11, his father was killed in a train accident. When he was 12, his mother died of cancer.

“It was very difficult,” the 18-year-old from the Vasterhaninge Ward, Stockholm Sweden Stake, explains. “My mother knew in advance she was going to die, so she made arrangements for me and my younger brother, Mathias. My parents were recent converts to the Church, but they knew some good people in the stake. They agreed to take care of us when she was gone.”

Thomas and Mathias have been part of the Simonsson family ever since.

“The Church has helped in building our relationships,” Thomas says. “We came into a gospel-centered home, and that made the transition easier. We had the same ideas. We had faith in the Lord, in the scriptures, and in prayer. We all knew that someday we’d see my mother and father again.”

The Simonssons live near the Stockholm Sweden Temple. Brother Simonsson is a temple worker, and Thomas often goes to the temple to do baptisms for the dead.

“When I’m in the temple, I give thanks for my present earthly family,” Thomas says. “I know they have blessed me a lot and I love them dearly. But I also think of my parents who are now in heaven. I know the Lord has promised that someday, if I live worthily, I can see them both again.”

We stopped at a pizza parlor on the way home from the priesthood session of general conference when I was 15 years old, and as a result I learned a lesson about tithing that I will never forget.
My father, my two brothers, and I were hungry. As we waited for our order, I saw one of my friends working as a busboy. I asked him how he got the job, and he told me they still needed extra help. A few minutes later he came back and told me that the manager would interview me immediately. Perhaps it was because I was wearing a dress shirt and a tie, but the employer seemed impressed. The interview went well. I expressed my wish not to work on Sundays, and he said there would be no problem—plenty of people would cover for me. I was hired to begin work as soon as I could.
During the next two years, I gradually worked my way up to the position of pizza cook. Then one evening as I began my shift, I noticed one of my scheduled days had been taken off the calendar. My boss told me that if I wanted to work the regular number of hours, Sunday was open. I worked one Sunday and felt rotten about it, so I declined to work on the Sabbath from then on. My relations with my employer started to deteriorate, and I began to look for another job.
It was interesting that although I was fairly adamant about keeping the Sabbath day holy, I was lax in obeying another commandment—the law of tithing. I didn’t pay tithing at all, unless my parents prompted me. Then I’d say, “Sure, sure,” and put something in the envelope the next week. I just couldn’t see the sense in giving away one-tenth of my hard-earned money.
I kept searching for a job but with no results. I prayed to my Father in Heaven sincerely, confident that he would help me find employment. One evening while praying, a thought came to me. Why should the Lord help me find another job if I wasn’t paying tithing on the income from my current job?
I studied a couple of scriptures:
“And prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Mal. 3:10).
“I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
I decided to obey the commandment. I went to the bank and secured a large sum of money from my savings account to catch up on the tithing I had missed. I took it over to the bishop’s house that very evening.
In my pursuit of better employment, I had applied for work in a muffler shop. This was in January, and they said they wouldn’t need any additional help until the following December. Two days after I paid my tithing, someone from the shop telephoned with an offer for me to start work the next day. By the time I left on my mission, I was making three times as much money as I had made cooking pizza, plus a handsome commission. I was able to finance half of the expense of my mission by myself. Furthermore, after I had been in the mission field about a year, my employer from the muffler shop called my parents and asked if he could help pay the rest of my mission expenses.
Some might say that all these things happened coincidentally. I would be inclined to say that I was blessed because I finally started living a gospel principle. Tithing opens a door to blessings from the Lord.

Recently, I went through something really hard. My father and mother are separated, and my mother works abroad. I grew up with my grandmother—she’s the one who introduced me to the gospel and the Church. But this year, she passed away unexpectedly.
She was the last person I ever thought would die. Sometimes I thought I would die before her because she was so healthy! She never showed weakness and was always strong in front of me. I never imagined my life without her.
After she passed away, I sometimes wished I could die too. I had thoughts about ending my own life. But soon I went to a stake youth activity where we had a lesson about the plan of salvation.
I knew about the plan of salvation, but maybe my understanding of it was a bit clouded because of what happened to my grandmother. As I listened, I thought, “I’ve forgotten the blessings of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for me.”
I realized that Jesus Christ died to save me. I shouldn’t end my life because of troubles I am having. The plan of happiness gives me hope that I can see my grandmother again someday, because life doesn’t end when we die. I need to keep following the Savior so I can see her again.
Understanding the plan of salvation, especially the Savior’s Atonement, helped me overcome my thoughts of suicide. It helps me feel peace in living. It gives me hope that I can meet my grandmother on the other side of the veil again someday.

“You can’t have two best friends,” Cob Colt said.
“You have to pick between us,” Sorrel said.
Pinto shook his spotted head. “I like both of you. You’re both my best friends.”
The three young horses cropped grass in the warm meadow until their bellies were full. Cob Colt twitched his black tail and looked around at the older horses. It was all very well to eat until you were full, but then what could you do? He thought it would be fun to splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook. But that wouldn’t take all day. What else could he do? He thought and thought, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Sorrel twitched her red-brown ears. She heard birds singing in the walnut tree in the middle of the meadow. She stopped chewing and watched the birds chase each other in and out of the branches. We could do that, she thought. We could play tag and hide behind the older horses. She knew that that would be fun, but it would not be a whole day of fun. What else could she do? She thought and thought, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Pinto looked along the fence. Near the driveway was a pile of raked leaves and windfall apples. Windfall apples were sweet and juicy to eat, but Pinto wasn’t hungry—he had just filled his belly with grass. He needed to play before he got hungry again. His mind was so full of windfall apples, though, that he couldn’t think of a game to play.
Cob Colt thought, I can prove I am Pinto’s best friend.I’ll tell him my idea. He’ll like it so much that I’ll be his best friend. So Cob Colt told Pinto, “Let’s splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook.”
“That’s a great idea!” Pinto exclaimed.
Cob Colt shook his black mane and waggled his black tail happily. “I’m Pinto’s best friend,” he said. “I thought of what to do.”
Sorrel wasn’t happy at first, but she followed Pinto and Cob Colt to the mud puddles. When she began to splatter mud, she had to admit that Cob Colt’s idea was a good one.
Soon the three horses were covered in mud, then clean again after swimming in the brook.
“Now what shall we do?” Cob Colt asked.
“I’m hungry now,” Pinto said. “Let’s go eat the windfall apples by the fence.”
The three horses galloped across the meadow and feasted on the sweet, juicy apples until they were full. But the day was not yet over. The sun still shone brightly. What could they do now?
Sorrel remembered her idea. “Why don’t we play tag and hide behind the bigger, older horses?”
Sorrel stood behind the walnut tree while the others hid in the meadow. She counted slowly to twenty-five. Then she began to look. It was hard to find a little horse hiding behind a big one. You had to creep around the meadow quietly until you came up right behind them.
Cob Colt wasn’t happy at first, but he ran behind Old Gray. It was hard to stand perfectly still. If the big horse moved, he had to move with it, and that was lots of fun. He had to admit that Sorrel’s idea was a good one.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel played tag until the sun set.
“This has been a wonderful day,” Cob Colt said. “I liked playing tag and eating windfall apples.”
“I liked splattering mud and eating windfall apples,” Sorrel said.
“Now do you understand?” Pinto asked them. “We had three good things to do today.”
Cob Colt nodded. “If Sorrel wasn’t here, we would only have splattered mud and eaten. We would have been bored all afternoon.”
Sorrel said, “And if Cob Colt wasn’t here, we would only have eaten and played tag. We would have been bored all morning.”
“That’s why I’m glad I have two best friends,” Pinto said.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel ate their dinner under the stars. Each of them was glad that on the next day, there would be two best friends to share it with.

First, here’s Curt. Today he is 25, but he has no difficulty recalling his 16th summer. “I was 2 meters tall, and I loved to play ball, especially basketball. I played on our high school team and even had dreams of playing professional basketball in New York.”

Curt grew up in Shelley, Idaho, where he could always find work on the neighboring farms. “I enjoyed working. I saved everything I earned as a boy, trying to get my missionary and college funds together.” Curt had saved six thousand dollars.

Curt’s accident happened one day during a break in his job.
“You know, sometimes young kids try crazy things. I looked at an electrical pole and thought, ‘That looks like something challenging to climb.’ So I did.” Witnesses told him that three electrical shocks held him in midair before he fell 7.6 meters and landed in mud. “The doctor said the impact of falling that far started my heart again, so now I’m alive. I lay there in the mud and thought, ‘I’ll never play ball again.’”

Curt spent six painful months in the hospital. He recalls that his family and friends helped greatly during that time. His close friends visited him regularly. His father kindly insisted he learn to be independent. The town held fund-raising campaigns to help pay medical expenses. When he returned to school, his classmates encouraged him and helped him see the brighter side of life. Curt graduated with his class.

Curt’s testimony helped him, too. He says, “I’m grateful to be a Mormon. I know this life is just a small speck in eternity. Someday I’ll have my legs and run again.”

Not all who marry outside the Church are so fortunate. One sister recalls the serious problems she encountered with her in-laws, strong in another religion, when they learned she was an active Latter-day Saint. They threatened to end any relationship with her. Her husband took their side, and she did not attend Church meetings for several years. But when this sister and her husband were no longer living with his family, a caring Relief Society president and loving sisters in the ward helped bring her back. Now she serves in a leadership calling, trying to reach out to other sisters.

There are still difficulties in the home, however. Working hard to support the family, her husband feels he is fulfilling all the obligations of a husband and father. But his influence has been absent in some areas where it is badly needed, his wife says. Their son is becoming rebellious, and the father is beginning to see that he needs to change in order to help their son. One particular missionary has touched the man’s life, helping him make progress, and he and his wife are working through issues of religion in the family. This sister expresses gratitude for gospel teachings that help her understand “we can work the problems out.”

A spirit of determination to do the right thing can come in earliest boyhood. At the cemetery, following a lovely funeral I attended, there stood near the open grave a small lad. His face was one of innocence, and his shining eyes showed the promise of a bright future. I said to him, “You, my boy, are going to make a great missionary. How old are you?”
He answered, “Ten.”
“In nine years we’re going to be looking for you to serve a mission,” I countered.
His response was immediate and told me something about him. He said, “Brother Monson, you won’t have to look for me ’cause I’ll be looking for you.” Young men, some lessons in life are learned from your parents, while others you learn in school or in church. There are, however, certain moments when you know our Heavenly Father is doing the teaching and you are His student. Let me share with you tonight such a lesson, effectively taught and everlastingly learned. The lesson pertains to swimming but goes far beyond that skill.
I learned to swim in the swift-running currents of the Provo River in beautiful Provo Canyon. The “old swimming hole” was in a deep portion of the river, formed by a large rock which had fallen into the river, I assume, when the workmen constructing the railroad were blasting through the canyon. The pool was dangerous, what with its depth of sixteen feet, its current, which moved swiftly against the large rock, and the sucking action of the whirlpools below the rock. It was not a place for a novice or the inexperienced swimmer.
One warm summer afternoon when I was about twelve or thirteen, I took a large, inflated inner tube from a tractor tire, slung it over my shoulder, and walked barefoot up the railroad track which followed the course of the river. I entered the water about a mile above the swimming hole, sat comfortably in the tube, and enjoyed a leisurely float down the river. The river held no fear for me, for I knew its secrets.
That day the Greek-speaking people in Utah held a reunion at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon, as they did every year. Native food, games, and dances were the order of the day. But some left the party to try swimming in the river. When they arrived at the swimming hole, it was deserted, for afternoon shadows were beginning to envelop it.
As my inflated tube bobbed up and down, I was about to enter the swiftest portion of the river just at the head of the swimming hole when I heard frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young lady swimmer, accustomed to the still waters of a gymnasium swimming pool, had fallen from the rock into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the party could swim to save her. Suddenly I appeared on the potentially tragic scene. I saw the top of her head disappearing under the water for the third time, there to descend to a watery grave. I stretched forth my hand, grasped her hair, and lifted her over the side of the tube and into my arms. At the pool’s lower end, the water was slower as I paddled the tube, with my precious cargo, to her waiting relatives and friends. They threw their arms around the water-soaked girl and kissed her, crying, “Thank God! Thank God you are safe!” Then they hugged and kissed me. I was embarrassed and quickly returned to the tube and continued my float down to the Vivian Park bridge. The water was frigid, but I was not cold, for I was filled with a warm feeling. I realized that I had participated in the saving of a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her,” and permitted me, a deacon, to float by at precisely the time I was needed. That day I learned that the sweetest feeling in mortality is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and generously permits us to see and to share His divine power to save.

One day Julie’s younger sister, Maddie, was feeling very sad. She was not having a good day. Julie wondered how she could help Maddie feel better. Then she had an idea!
Julie sat down next to her sister and asked Maddie to play a game with her. They would take turns telling something they were grateful for—something they could see, touch, hear, taste, or smell. At first it took Maddie a while to think of something. But after a few turns, it was easier, and she began to look happier. Soon Maddie forgot all about her worries, and Julie felt more cheerful too.

All of these fundamentals—telling, showing, and involving—were dynamically present in the life and work of a truly great University of Utah football coach of a generation ago. He was the unforgettable Ike Armstrong, for at least 25 years the unexcelled mentor of the Utah Redskins. As a youth I found the utmost exhilaration in playing football at the university under Coach Armstrong. I found an outlet for my love of athletics. To him football not only provided a vehicle for the development of skills, ideals, and leadership, it personified life—and life at its best. To him the game afforded an unrivaled opportunity to teach not only football prowess, but also courage, duty, dependability, perseverance, integrity, and enthusiasm, which resulted in physical, emotional, and even spiritual conditioning at the highest level. Coach Armstrong was a fierce competitor and loved to win, but even more he loved to see his players become responsible, honorable, and goal-oriented young men, faithful to the loftiest ideals. The end product was to be nothing less than character of the most solid kind.

Beyond these ideals Coach Armstrong taught basic, fundamental, hard football. He emphasized the fact that if each play were perfectly executed, it would result in a touchdown. But achieving that perfect play, he stressed, was only possible if each player performed his responsibility and assignment perfectly. This meant that each lineman and backfield man would have to do a perfect job of blocking out his opponent, that the center would have to pass the ball to the quarterback with bull’s-eye accuracy and timing, and that the ball carrier would have to execute the play as called.

I can assure you that it didn’t always work this way, anymore than life itself can be directed or lived without some trial and error. However, if ultimate success is to be achieved in either football or life, there can be no compromising of the ideals or the effort. And, as in all things, it is frequently necessary to pick up the pieces, reevaluate the resources and the goals, never tiring of making the second effort.

I recall a glorious November Indian summer afternoon at the Ute stadium in 1937. Our opponent was the University of Colorado. The star of that team was Byron “Whizzer” White, a versatile, fast, powerful, and innovative quarterback. He has since been a Rhodes Scholar and is presently Associate Justice on the bench of our country’s Supreme Court. Utah kicked off to Colorado. Whizzer plucked the ball out of the air five yards behind the goal line and with enormous speed side-stepped every one of Utah’s 11 players, each one of whom touched him as he sped past. He ran the entire length of the field, plus five yards, to a roaring touchdown. It was a heart-stopping, hair-raising performance, the longest, most spectacular run of the year in our conference.

At our post-game evaluation session, Ike demonstrated how it might have been possible for any one of the Utes to stop Whizzer, if he had played up to his potential. I recount this unforgettable experience to emphasize that success in life depends upon the development of qualities that are often neglected. A let-down in morale and high purpose is usually a forerunner of failure.

Funny story about first dates, Kels had a rule that she would always say “yes” to a first date if it was a safe environment.

We met in Sunday School. And when I asked her out, she said yes. But she was not really interested in me. In fact, she was interested in one of my friends; even better, we were going on a double date with the dude she was interested in. I realized, shortly into the date, that there was no love in the air… at least directed at me.

In fact, by the end, I knew she was interested in him. I vividly remember walking back after dropping her off at her door, I was a polite gentleman.I dropped her off at her door, walked away, and vividly remember thinking, “I am never taking her out again”.

Now, rejection doesn’t feel great. But I respected her choice and had the courage to move on. I went on a date with someone else later that week and dated various people over the following weeks. During this time, Kels saw who I was from a distance, and her view changed. While sitting in a Sunday School class I was teaching, she realized she was interested in me. It’s funny; we made eye contact, and we both knew the exact moment her mind changed, and I thought to myself, she wants me? and I was so confused. But I was like she already rejected me, I'm not going to try again; it's done.

A couple of days later, she had the courage to actually reach out to me, and she had a funny text. She then asked for help with her Spanish class. So, for our first good date, I helped her with her homework, Spanish was the only class I was qualified to help her with. We played a card game, and then we got some 99-cent bean and cheese burritos… I know what you are all thinking… romance!

I know this is a silly story. But during a less mature time in our lives, I would have harbored ill feelings towards her, or she may not have had the courage to reach out and make her interest clear. If either of us had treated our failed first date as a dealbreaker, we would not be here today. So, everyone, stop putting so much pressure on yourselves!

I rushed to the time clock, found my card, and quickly punched it in. The time, 4:01, blared out at me in red. One minute late! After all that hurrying, I was still late. I had a class at the university that ended at 3:30, and it was always a hectic rush to make it to work on time. I worked as an evening receptionist at one of the larger convalescent centers for the elderly in Salt Lake City, Utah.
As I walked to my desk, I heard a voice singing “There’s Sunshine in My Soul Today.” The voice was bellowing the song out at the top of its lungs. Curious, I followed the sound of the voice. At the end of one of the corridors, I found a husky old man sitting up in his bed. The cords on his neck stood out with the strain of singing.
“Hello!” he called out to me cheerfully. He didn’t seem surprised to see me standing there. He just grinned brightly at me. The windows were wide open. The air and sunshine poured in. It seemed to be one of the most cheerful rooms that I had ever been in, yet it was similar to all of the other rooms in the building.
“I heard you singing,” I remarked to him.
“Good!” He nodded his head courteously at me. “I sing because it makes me happy!”
As duties awaited me at my desk, I said good-bye to him. As I went down the hall, I heard him singing “High on the Mountain Top” as if he were yodeling it from the hilltops. For the rest of the evening I found myself humming, “High on the mountain top …”
The next day I managed to arrive a few minutes early. Again I heard the cheerful voice singing. Irresistibly pulled, I went down to his room.
“Well, hello, young lady!” His eyes and toothless smile welcomed me as if I were a queen.
I greeted him and asked if I could listen to him sing.
“Sure!” He invited me to sit down on the only chair in the room. He sang through all the verses of “How Firm a Foundation.” His off-key voice charmed me.
I asked him if he knew “The World Has Need of Willing Men.” This was a favorite song of mine. I had taught it to my youngest brother when he was just four.
Not only did he sing it for me, but he sang it with such force that I couldn’t help but join him and sing too. I caught his enthusiasm and sang much louder than I normally would. A nurse passed by and glanced at us curiously.
As I left, I asked him when he had taken time to memorize all of the hymns.
“Oh, that’s easy!” He clapped his hands together. “I memorized them as I sang them in church. Once I knew them, I never opened the hymn book again!”
I made an inward resolve to do the same.
It became regular routine to stop in at his room before I went down to my desk. He always greeted me brightly. I found myself humming Church hymns between my classes at the university.
Christmastime came and my classes were over for three weeks. As I had made arrangements with someone to take my place at work during that time, I was free to go home and visit my family in Ephraim, Utah.
Before I left, however, I stopped in to see the old man. We sang through countless Christmas carols together. I was more in the Christmas spirit than I had ever been before. I left him singing a rousing version of “Silent Night.”
As I walked back down the corridor, I passed a nurse who frowned at me. I didn’t recall seeing her before. I puzzled about it for a minute and then shrugged it off. I was too happy to let a frown bother me. Later, I found out that she had just recently been hired as the head nurse.
Christmas vacation, as always, flew by too fast for me. Soon it was time for me to reluctantly go back to my studies. I said good-bye to my parents and houseful of brothers and sisters.
When I stepped through the doors at the convalescent center to go back to work, I expected to hear a cheerful voice booming out some song down the hall. As I punched in my time card at the time clock, I cocked my ear for his voice. All I could hear was the confusion of a few televisions tuned to different stations and the conversation of a few patients who were sitting near me in the hallway.
“He’s probably asleep,” I said to myself. But, to reassure myself, I walked down to his room.
I peeked in the door, expecting to see him curled up in bed sound asleep. However, he was sitting up with his back supported by a few pillows. The windows were half shut and the curtains pulled. He sat listlessly in the half gloom.
Hearing my step, he slowly turned his head and saw me. He grinned the ghost of a smile.
I was shocked. His wrinkled skin hung in loose pouches around his face as if he had lost a great amount of weight.
“I … I thought you’d be singing,” I stammered out.
He shook his head and tears slid down his cheeks. “Can’t sing anymore. Nurse said it bothered too many people.” He looked at me earnestly. “I don’t want to bother anyone. Singing just made me happy.” There was a long pause as he thought. “No, I don’t want to bother anyone,” he repeated.
I blinked back tears as I walked over and took his hand. “Why don’t we sing together right now?”
He looked at me anxiously, “Oh no, please don’t. I don’t think she would like it.”
“Well, then,” I said softly, “I’ll sing. I’ll sing so quietly that no one will hear me but you.”
I softly sang the first song that came to me. I sang all the verses of “I Am a Child of God” for him. His wrinkled lips mouthed most of the words with me.
After singing, I talked softly with him for a while and rubbed his brow. As I needed to get to my desk, I told him I would be back tomorrow. He called me when I had reached the door. I turned to look at him questioningly. His leathery cheeks wrinkled deeply as he gave me a smile. His eyes had a hint of their old sparkle.
As soon as I got out into the hall, I was fighting mad. I couldn’t wait to find the nurse who had done this. Angry words were close to the surface of my thoughts.
I didn’t have to search long. The new head nurse was waiting for me at the end of the hall. Before I could even say a word, she demanded, “Young lady, what were you doing there?” I explained that I worked at the center as a receptionist and that the old man was a friend of mine. I tried to go on and explain about his singing, but she cut me off.
“Well, if you’re the receptionist here, then go do your work. You have no right to be back here with the patients.” She planted her feet in front of me and folded her chin firmly into her neck.
“I just wanted to tell you that you’re making the old man sick by not letting him sing! It makes him happy to sing!” I said this in a rush before she could stop me.
She thrust her face in front of mine. “The old man is dying from an incurable disease. Not from the reason you state.” She checked her watch. “Now, if you’re the evening receptionist, you’re already 15 minutes late. If you still want your job, I advise you to go immediately to your desk and leave this part of the building to me.”
I walked through the building to my desk. I made a resolve to see the old man tomorrow regardless of the nurse. Even if I had to crawl through the window, I would go to him and sing for him until he was well enough to sing like he used to.
The next afternoon I arrived at work early so I could spend more time with the old man. I stepped cautiously into the center watching for the head nurse. There was no sign of her. I reached his room without having an encounter with her. Relieved, I turned to go into his room. The drapes and windows were wide open and sunshine spread through the room. The bed was tightly made and the floor appeared to be newly waxed. There was no sign of the old man or his personal possessions. I was filled with dread at the sight of the well-cleaned room. My footsteps dragged as I walked down to the nurse’s station to inquire about him.
“Room 67?” she repeated after me. I nodded. The nurse aide then turned to a chart and examined it for a minute. She looked up at me. “He died last night about 2:00 A.M.”
Tears blinded my vision as I stumbled down the hall to my desk. I wished with all my heart that I had done more for him. All I could think of was the smile he had given me before I left him yesterday. It had been a grateful smile.
When I reached my desk, I laid my head down and cried helpless tears for the old man. The telephone rang. As I composed myself to answer it, I thought I could hear the faint echo of “There’s Sunshine in My Soul Today.” Suddenly I felt strongly that the old man would be singing at the top of his lungs today. Maybe I was hearing the faint echo of his voice from heaven. I smiled through my tears and started to softly hum the tune.

When President Russell M. Nelson visited Guatemala in 2019 as part of a nine-day ministry to Latin America, he spoke at an evening devotional, where I was asked to conduct a 200-voice choir. Sometime after we had started rehearsing, I had a dream.
I dreamed that I would be able to say hello to the prophet. After the devotional, as President Nelson waved farewell with his handkerchief to the 22,000 people there, he turned to me and said in perfect Spanish, “Thank you very much. Well done!” Then, speaking to the congregation, Sister Wendy Nelson said, “I didn’t know you had a Tabernacle Choir in Guatemala!”

Then there was Picoco Primary School, where 1,300 children were being taught from just three classrooms.
“The story of these children and just three classrooms is a touching one,” said Gilberto Albano Chiburee, the director of the school.
Originally, the school’s three classrooms accommodated its 200 students. “But over a short space of time, our community flourished in numbers,” said Chiburee.
The number of students kept increasing. The primary school was strained to evenly distribute students into three sessions, the first group in the morning, the second group in the afternoon, and the third group of students in the evening.
When the number of students passed the 500 mark, Chiburee and his faculty of teachers knew that they had to do something different. They approached nonprofit organisations, government and corporations to ask for assistance, but to no avail.
So Chiburee and his staff started planting trees.
“We used these trees as makeshift classrooms because we did not have any other option. We had sought the help of various companies, nonprofit organizations, and the government but to no avail,” Chiburee said.
This predicament only made matters worse when the number of students enrolling in the school kept climbing. The first and second graders were prioritized to learn in classrooms, while third up to seventh graders learned under trees.
“It broke my heart to have children arrive as early as 6 AM only to sit on the hard and uncomfortable ground until noon. Some of the children started experiencing back problems,” an emotional Chiburee said.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, along with No Poor Among Us, then heard about the school and arranged to construct five new classrooms.
The news about the construction of five new classrooms was received with great excitement, many thanks, and tears from teachers, students, and locals. Chiburee expressed how thankful he was that no student of the school would be sent home as a result of rain or the wind.
The project was expected to be completed by the end of June this year. An additional 900 students will be accommodated.

In my early childhood, I lost both my parents. Aunt Gu Ma, an unmarried sister of my father, brought up my brother and me in the little Chinese farming village where she grew vegetables for a living. She was a wonderful person. Although she had no formal education, she instilled in us correct principles, including self-reliance and the value of hard work. We are grateful for her love and sacrifice for us.

The Vigils’ bishop, César Orellana, also saw changes in their lives. Soon after their baptism, Amado approached Bishop Orellana and said, “We want to pay tithing, but we don’t know how.”
Bishop Orellana explained that tithing was 10 percent of their increase. Amado was somewhat concerned. At the time, Evelyn had a job, but he did not. “We always come up short,” Amado explained to his bishop, “but we want to pay tithing.”
Bishop Orellana responded, “Brother, the Lord has made many promises.” Together they read scriptures about the blessings that come from faithfully paying tithing, including the Lord’s words through the prophet Malachi: “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, … and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Malachi 3:10).
After reading these scriptures together, Bishop Orellana looked at the new convert and said, “If paying tithing means that you can’t pay for water or electricity, pay tithing. If paying tithing means that you can’t pay your rent, pay tithing. Even if paying tithing means that you don’t have enough money to feed your family, pay tithing. The Lord will not abandon you.”
The next Sunday, Amado approached Bishop Orellana again. This time he didn’t ask any questions. He simply handed his bishop an envelope and said, “Bishop, here is our tithing.”
Reflecting on this experience, Bishop Orellana says, “Ever since then, they have been faithful tithe payers.” The family received some commodities from the bishops’ storehouse during their financial difficulties. Beyond that, the Lord blessed them to be able to care for themselves. Evelyn received a promotion, and Amado found a good job. Evelyn later lost her job, but they continued to pay tithing and to receive spiritual and temporal blessings for their faithfulness. Once Bishop Orellana asked Amado how the family was doing financially. Amado responded, “We’re doing all right. Sometimes we don’t have much to eat, but we have enough. And more than anything, we trust in the Lord.”
After paying tithing for some time, Evelyn and Amado spoke with Bishop Orellana about the blessings they had received. Referring to Malachi 3:10, they said, “We have proven the Lord.” And true to Bishop Orellana’s promise, the Lord never abandoned them.

I believed the prophet Malachi when he said that the Lord pours out blessings to those who pay tithing (see Mal. 3:10). I had no problem believing that. But when it came to actually paying tithing, I had trouble.
On payday I would set aside money for tithing. However, payday often came in the middle of the week, and when I needed money later on I would “borrow” back money from my tithing. I told myself I would replace the money and give my tithing to the bishop on Sunday, but usually I was unable to return the money. So I would plan to pay the tithing I owed from my next paycheck. I tried to do this, but then very little would be left of my paycheck! Things went on like this for the first year I earned my own income.
Then one day I had a realization. A sales representative came to our house. He explained that I could pay for an appliance on an installment plan—receiving the item now and paying for it later. As he spoke, a question entered my mind: “Does the Lord give blessings on an installment plan?”
The next day in my institute class, the very first verse of scripture we discussed answered my question: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
Every commandment brings blessings—and always in full. But we must keep the commandment, not just plan to keep it. That night I prayed for forgiveness for paying my tithes in such a lazy manner.
Now that I am paying my tithing faithfully, I have found that I am happier living on 90 percent of my income with the Lord’s blessings than I ever was living on 100 percent of my income without them.

Class was starting, and I felt as nervous as a cat in a thunderstorm.
After roll call we’d be starting with Kenny’s speech. That would give me about 15 to 20 minutes. Why do I have to give my speech today? I thought. Why did I choose Joseph Smith as my “famous American”?
The majority of the class were Baptist, including the teacher. I was the only Mormon in the whole group. Boy, I had nerve the day I chose this topic.
Kenny was almost finished. No one had any questions about Kenny’s speech on Eisenhower.
It was my turn.
“My ‘famous American’ is Joseph Smith,” I began. ‘He was born in …” My speech lasted about ten minutes—not bad.
“Any questions?” the teacher asked.
It was so silent you could have heard a pin drop.
“Well, I have one,” my teacher replied. “What is the name of the church that Joseph started?”
I knew I had left out something and it would be the most important part. I answered, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, more commonly known as the Mormons.”
That started the questions: Where did the plates come from? Who was Moroni? How did he get the plates? And oh, yes, the usual question—What about polygamy? By this time I was feeling pretty good. I answered all of the questions that I could, and then one guy, who I’ll always be thankful to, asked, “How do you know it’s true?”
This question touched me. I truly felt the Spirit in my heart and in the room.
I looked at my questioner and said, “Billy, have you ever felt so right about something that no matter what anybody else says, you know it’s true? You know in your heart, and no one can persuade you otherwise?”
A hush came over the class. Even the teacher didn’t have a reply.
I’ll always be thankful to Billy for helping me realize that I do have a testimony and that I shouldn’t keep it inside.
I had been in front of the class answering questions for over 30 minutes. We even missed part of our break. And I felt radiant the rest of the day.
This experience helped me realize that people want to know about the gospel. I also realized that I have a duty to share my knowledge with others.

President Díaz truly understands those difficulties. Baptized at age 17, he was the only member of his family to join the Church. “What got me through was my branch president,” he explains. “He spent hours with me; he always had time for me.” That important contact helped young Jacinto Díaz decide to serve a mission. He left despite the opposition of his parents. By the time he returned two years later, his mother and 11 other family members had joined the Church.

After finishing my first year here at then Ricks College, like many of you are in the process of doing, I went home to help my family bail hay before I left on my mission in July. Once I finished putting up the hay, I had plans to come here to Rexburg to purchase some final items I needed for my mission and enjoy a water skiing trip with my friend, Troy. Troy was a recent convert to the church.

About 2 weeks before meeting up with Troy, he called me. He did not call my house. He called me in the middle of the day, at my cousin's house. Remember this is before cell phones. Normally, I would be on a tractor, but that day it was broken down, and we were waiting for parts. When the phone rang and I heard it was for me, I was surprised. I thought, "Who would be calling here for me?" When I heard his voice, I knew it was Troy.

I asked him, "What's up?"
Troy said he felt like he needed to call me and let me know how much he appreciated our friendship. He wanted to thank me.
I said, "For what?"
He said, "For helping me change my life. Helping me be a better person."
I was stunned. This was not a typical conversation between us. I also let Troy know how much I appreciated his friendship. We talked briefly about our excitement for the water skiing trip and then the call ended.

The ground we farmed was located on the west side of Salmon and had a beautiful view of the valley. You could see several mountain ranges and the surrounding weather. On the day I planned on leaving to meet Troy, I could see dark storm clouds approaching. I began to worry that I would not get the hay put up before the coming downpour. That meant I would not be going to Rexburg. For those of you who do not understand why I was worrying, if you bail wet hay, it will rot. If it is really wet and you stack it, it will possibly start on fire and burn down the stack.

For reasons I did not yet understand, I felt a great urgency to get my work done and make my way to Rexburg to visit my friend Troy. In fact, after seeing the dark clouds and anticipating heavy rain coming, I thought that I needed to get off the tractor and pray. I felt I needed to pray for the rains to go around the farm. At first I ignored those feelings thinking it was just my anxiousness to be done and go have some fun. But as I continued to work the feeling and thought came over me again--this time it was stronger, "You need to stop the tractor and pray." The thoughts and feelings were not my own. I stopped the tractor, knelt down in the field, and asked Heavenly Father for the rains to go around the farm. After the prayer it did not rain on the fields. I felt only a light mist of moisture as the dark clouds were passing. I kept working. This exact same impression to stop the tractor and pray happened two more times that day. The other times I did not hesitate; I followed the impression asking for the same blessing each time. I was able to finish my work, and leave for Rexburg on time. The city of Salmon, right below the farm, received a heavy downpour while I bailed and stacked the dry hay.

I arrived fairly late in the day at my grandparents' house in Rexburg. When I got there I found out my friend, Troy, had been in a severe motorcycle accident. Our plans to water ski never happened. I am grateful for the continuing revelation I received that day on the farm so I could act on the prompting to pray and be guided to where the Lord would want me to be. I was in Rexburg within hours of my dear friend's accident. By divine intervention I was able to be close to him during this difficult time. Along with others, I fasted and prayed he would recover. I really wanted God to answer my prayer, but my will was not God's will. Troy never recovered, and he died in the hospital.

I reflected on the last time Troy and I spoke, which was when he called me at my cousin's house. His call was what Nephi describes as a "tender mercy" of the Lord. The Lord knew how much it would mean to me. He truly is in the details of our lives.