Gospel Story Finder

In his autobiography, Parley P. Pratt related the following conversation with his brother William. In 1830 Parley decided to leave his prosperous farm in Ohio in search of the true gospel. William thought this unwise and questioned Parley about his decision. He specifically wanted to know how Parley intended to support himself and his family. To William’s inquiry, Parley replied:

“Why, sir, I have bank bills enough, on the very best institutions in the world, to sustain myself and family while we live.”
“Indeed,” said he, “well, I should like to see some of them; I hope they are genuine.” “Certainly,” I replied, “there is no doubt of that. They are true bills and founded on capital that will never fail, though heaven and earth should pass away. . . .”
[Parley then explained:] I then unlocked my treasury and drew from thence a large pocket book, full of promissory notes like the following: . . . “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, you shall ask what you will in my name and I will give it you.” “All things are possible to him that believeth.”

“Now, William,” said I, “are these the words of Jesus Christ, or are they not?” “They certainly are,” said he. . . .
“Then you admit they are genuine bills?”
“I do.”
“Is the signer able to meet his engagements?”
“He certainly is.”
“Is he willing?”
“He is.”
“Well, then, I am going to fulfil the conditions to the letter on my part. . . . And I will do it, placing both feet firm on these promises with nothing else to rely upon.” [PPP, 1985, p. 17; emphasis in original]

That very year Parley P. Pratt found the Book of Mormon and was baptized.

I had always planned on serving a mission when I turned 20, the age of missionaries at the time. After playing two seasons of football at Utah State University, I had a difficult decision to make. I knew that, at that time, very few returned missionaries played football after their missions. I had put a lot of effort into football, and I loved the game. I decided to delay my mission a few months so I could play one more season and then serve a mission. By the end of that season, I had won the starting quarterback position for the next year.
My coach was surprised and disappointed that after all my hard work in football, I was going to leave. He encouraged me to stay and play my final season. He couldn’t understand why I would walk away from this opportunity. I listened to his comments and his logic, but I told him that I could not wait another year to go on my mission. If I did, I feared I would miss my opportunity to serve a mission. After all my hard work in football, I said good-bye to the team and left for Great Britain to serve the Lord.
I never regretted that decision. I learned so many things on my mission. To witness people embracing the gospel was an incredible experience, which shaped the rest of my life in many important ways. My mission helped make me into the person I am today and had far greater impact on me than football ever could have.

Opening night—that magic moment when the lights are dimmed and the audience is waiting for the first note of music.
It is just such an opening night for a group nervously waiting to go on stage, but instead of a cast of adults, the actors and stagehands are children ages 6 to 12. Their director and the mastermind behind the idea of presenting a full-fledged musical at the elementary school level is 15-year-old Braden Bell. And now, at opening night, he is giving last minute instructions to his cast, offering encouragement, and speaking into his headset, “Let’s go! All lights out.”
A youngster with a headset larger than his head looks at the clipboard he carries and flips the switch to start the show. A minute later, “Mary Poppins” walks down the aisle at the Knowlton Elementary School in Farmington, Utah.
When Braden approached his favorite elementary school teacher with the idea of producing Mary Poppins, at the school, she agreed. They approached the principal with the idea, and he gave them permission to use the school facilities. “I prayed a lot about doing the play and I always had a good feeling about it, so I knew it was the right thing to do,” Braden said. But even he was not prepared for the 350 students who auditioned to be in it. He had no idea that there would be such an interest in the production.
Managing a cast of first through sixth graders takes a lot of time and a lot of diplomacy. Braden organized mothers, fathers, and other students into committees to help him. This night the audience can see that the production is full of his imagination. He has taken simple things and solved set design problems. The toys in the bedroom were wired so that stage crew could just pull strings and have the toys magically “spring” onto their shelves.
“I can almost sit back and watch the play and be objective about it because I know that we had our Heavenly Father’s help,” Braden said. “I was just the tool he used to put it all together.”
Braden is no stranger to the stage. He started taking creative drama classes when he was nine. He was a member of the Academy of Gifted and Talented Entertainers sponsored by the local school district. In high school he was part of the drama team putting on plays and musicals. While he was heading up the Mary Poppins production, he was simultaneously rehearsing for a school play and his ward’s road show. “That was one of the happiest times of my life. I just went from one rehearsal to another.”
A burst of applause signals that the play is over. The curtain calls begin. At first people are just applauding, but then they stand on their feet clapping wildly. Finally Braden comes onto the stage. The audience knows that they have witnessed a small miracle and clap louder.
The crowd leaves and the auditorium is again in semidarkness when Braden finally finishes putting the last chairs away. He looks around and can still see the people, the performers, the magic. This is theater, a lot of hard work for that one moment when the lights dim to a golden glow and someone whispers, “Let’s go.”

As I listened and read through the prophet’s talk, the personal message I found was that I needed to work on reading the scriptures and pondering and praying about them.
Every night, before I went to bed, I would read the scriptures. I would ponder and pray, asking my Father in Heaven if they were true. As I finished and climbed into bed, I felt a warm, tingly sensation through me. I knew my prayers were being answered. Through the week I found I was happier and more helpful. I did better in school. I found the time to study and remembered what I was taught. Usually my mother and I argue about things, but that week I found the patience to listen and understand her point of view, which is something that isn’t easy for me. I felt better about myself than I had in ages. I also noticed the Lord made more time for me to continue my scripture studies.
My testimony was strengthened. I felt worthier—all from reading the scriptures every night before going to bed.
I want to keep those same feelings for the rest of my life. I want to keep on getting those many blessings. And all these blessings had come to me from listening to President Hinckley. I want to have such a wonderful change come over me and become as close to Jesus and Heavenly Father as I do when I read my scriptures.

I’m Carolyn Neave of Brisbane. As one of my Laurel projects, I decided to get very involved in missionary work. My friend Elizabeth Smith and I set up dates with the sister missionaries and went tracting with them.
The first day was hot, but spiritually uplifting. Working with these wonderful servants of the Lord I learned not only what it means to be a missionary, but also how to cope when a member of your own family goes on a mission.
My big brother Sean left for his mission to Adelaide in November, and by being close to the missionaries in our ward, I was able to know that my brother is in good hands—the Lord’s. Although I miss not having him around, I know he’s doing what’s right, and he knows I love him.
I also learned that missionary work doesn’t bless you only if you bring souls unto Christ, but it blesses you for trying.

Defining moments in life come often and unexpectedly, even when you are still young. Allow me to share a story about a high school student, Kevin, chosen to travel out of state for a student leader event, as told in his own words.
“My turn in line came, and the official-looking registration clerk asked for my name. She looked at her list and said, ‘So you’re the young man from Utah.’
“‘You mean I’m the only one?’ I asked.
“‘Yes, the only one.’ She handed me my name tag with ‘Utah’ printed below my name. As I clipped it on, I felt like I was being branded.
“I crowded into the hotel elevator with five other high school students with name tags like mine. ‘Hey, you’re from Utah. Are you a Mormon?’ asked one student.
“I felt out of place with all these student leaders from all over the country. ‘Yes,’ I hesitantly admitted.
“‘You’re the guys who believe in Joseph Smith, who said he saw angels. You don’t actually believe that, do you?’
“I didn’t know what to say. The students in the elevator were all staring at me. I had just arrived, and already everyone thought I was different. I became a little defensive but then said, ‘I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.’
“‘Where had that come from?’ I wondered. I didn’t know I had it in me. But the words felt true.
“‘Yeah, I was told that you were all just religious nuts,’ he said.
“With that, there was an uncomfortable pause as the elevator door opened. As we gathered our luggage, he walked down the hall laughing.
“Then, a voice behind me asked, ‘Hey, don’t Mormons have some sort of another Bible?’
“Oh no. Not again. I turned to see another student who had been in the elevator with me, Christopher.
“‘It’s called the Book of Mormon,’ I said, wanting to drop the subject. I picked up my bags and started walking down the hall.
“‘Is that the book Joseph Smith translated?’ he asked.
“‘Yeah, it is,’ I answered. I kept on walking, hoping to avoid embarrassment.
“‘Well, do you know how I could get one?’
“A scripture I learned in seminary suddenly came to me. ‘I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ.’ As this entered my mind, I felt ashamed I had been so embarrassed.
“For the rest of the week that scripture wouldn’t leave me. I answered as many questions about the Church as I could, and I made many friends.
“I discovered I was proud of my religion.
“I gave Christopher a Book of Mormon. He later wrote me, telling me he had invited the missionaries to his home.
“I learned not to be embarrassed to share my testimony.”

Then one day I remembered that the missionaries who had given me the Book of Mormon had told me that the local Latter-day Saint branch president owned a business in town and that if I ever had any questions, I could go to him. I visited President Murray Conley, asked some questions, and was pleased with his answers.
Later, some members of my church visited me and informed me that I was being misled. The next night, the minister and his wife came to visit. But when I asked him to explain Malachi 4:5–6 [Mal. 4:5–6], he got angry and told me I had been brainwashed by the Mormons and there was nothing more he could do.
One night I read 3 Nephi 14:13–14: “Enter ye in at the strait gate; for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, which leadeth to destruction, and many there be who go in thereat;
“Because strait is the gate, and narrow the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” [3 Ne. 14:13–14]
I got up from my chair and walked outside. Alone in the darkness, I could see myself standing at that narrow scriptural gate, pacing back and forth, afraid to go in. I realized at that moment that I had found the way. The Lord spoke to me that night, not as we speak to one another, but with a still, small voice that said, “What are you going to do about it?”
I went back to tell President Conley I wanted to be baptized. But he was in Salt Lake City. Thinking that only the branch president had the authority to baptize, I left, intending to return a week later.
During that week, Satan placed another stumbling block in my path—more doubts. “Do I have to start all over again?” I wondered. After struggling with my doubts for three days, I started reading a book President Conley had given me—Truth Restored, by President Gordon B. Hinckley. As I did, the Spirit, which had borne witness to me of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, also bore witness to me that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the Lord’s true church.
When President Conley returned from Salt Lake City, I told him I wanted to be baptized. As we drove to Gilmer, Texas, for my baptism on 19 October 1970, I asked him, “Do I understand correctly from what I have read in the scriptures that just because I’m being baptized, I’m not saved, but that I have to endure to the end?”
He said, “That’s exactly right.”
I cried all the way to my baptism. I felt very strongly that the Church was true. After baptism, I felt it ten times more strongly.
Many times after, I wondered, “Why me? Why do I know the truth while many good Christian people don’t?” And a scripture always came to my mind, “Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (Luke 11:9).
Several weeks after I was baptized, I had the privilege of receiving a witness of the Holy Ghost once again, stronger than before. One morning at about 3:00 A.M., I sat up in bed with tears streaming down my face. The Holy Ghost was bearing such a powerful witness to me of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and of the Church that I felt like saying, “Please, Lord, no more, no more. I know it’s true.”
I do know with all my heart and soul that the Book of Mormon is true. It led me to the living God, to his Son Jesus Christ, and to his church guided by a living prophet.

It had been hard work cleaning up the yard, and it had taken me most of the morning to finish the job. After I put the rake away, Dad gave me the dollar that we had agreed on before I started to work.
I sat down in the shade of an apricot tree and looked at the finely etched lines that made up the face of George Washington on the dollar bill. I couldn’t imagine anybody drawing such a fine picture. The bill had that funny smell of money, and holding the dollar close to my face, I could see the colored threads in the paper.
A whole dollar! I thought. My dollar! One that I earned. I have a dollar to do with as I please. Then the thought came to me that I owed tithing on it. I felt a little bit ashamed of myself because I didn’t have a giving and happy feeling about paying my tithing. Instead, I tried to convince myself that the dollar was all mine because I had earned it.
If I paid my tithing, I would have only ninety cents left. Besides, Jesus wouldn’t miss ten cents. How could He? This is His world, and He can have anything He wants. That thought made me feel better.
As far as I was concerned, I had solved my problem about paying tithing, and I lay back on the grass to relax. The warm day seemed just right under the shade of the tree, and I watched the sun through the fluttering leaves.
The dollar was still on my mind. There were so many things I could buy. A chocolate candy bar with nuts would taste good. I could almost see the almonds making lumps in the smooth surface of the bar. Or I could get a butterfly yo-yo—they’re the best kind. Or maybe there was a movie in town I’d like to see. I’d have to look in the newspaper to see if anything looked good.
Then tithing popped into my head again. I knew that only ninety cents was really mine and that ten cents was the Lord’s, but I still wasn’t happy about it. Then I had a new thought: How does Jesus get the money?
This new thought stayed in my mind, and I mapped out a plan. I would pay tithing on my dollar and then watch the bishop to see how he gave it to Jesus. I could hardly wait for Sunday morning to come.
My father helped me fill out the receipt that went into the tithing envelope. He was so happy that I was paying tithing that it made me feel bad because I knew my reason for paying it was not the right one. But I was paying tithing.
Finally Sunday came. I decided I’d give my tithing to the bishop after Primary when he was in his office. I figured that that must be where he gave the money to the Lord.
The bishop was glad I was paying tithing and said that the Lord would bless me for it.
After the bishop thanked me, he turned and gave the envelope with my tithing in it to the ward clerk. I could hardly believe my eyes when the clerk opened my envelope. I just stood there. Is he going to give my money to the Lord? I wondered. I guess the bishop saw my look of dismay because he asked me if anything was wrong.
“How does Jesus get the money?” I asked. He must have thought that was a funny question because he laughed a little, then stopped. He said, “Jesus doesn’t come personally to get the money. It’s sent to Church headquarters to help with missionary work, with the building of temples and meetinghouses, with genealogy work, and with other necessary things. For instance, some tithing money is used to help pay for the operation of our meetinghouse.”
The bishop took me by the hand, and we walked through the building. At different places he stopped and asked me how much I thought certain things cost, such as chalkboards in the classrooms. He pointed out how much carpet there was in the building and how many chairs and tables and things. By the time we were through, I had a good idea that it takes a lot of money to run a meetinghouse. The bishop pointed out that repairs and upkeep are expensive too. Then he said, “You know, because I pay my tithing, I feel like I own a tiny part of our meetinghouse—and any other meetinghouse or temple I go to. It’s a good feeling.”
As I walked home from church I thought, Maybe tithing is a good thing. I felt proud that I was helping to do good with my tithing, even though I still felt a little disappointed that I had not seen the Lord.
But I didn’t think much more about it that day. Monday was coming, and I had ninety cents to spend.

Since then, I have turned so often to the Book of Mormon for guidance, encouragement, and increased faith that I sometimes wonder if my great love for this book might have been passed down to me from my great-grandmother. The Book of Mormon was brought into the home of Susan Kent, my great-grandmother, when she was sixteen years old, almost a century and a half ago. After studying the Book of Mormon, Susan gained a testimony of it that was so strong that she was willing to make a great sacrifice for it.
The young man Susan was engaged to at the time would have nothing to do with anyone who would join the Mormons. But Susan did not count the cost. She chose peace for her conscience. However, her heart was so grieved that she could not eat for several days. She lapsed into a coma so deep that she seemed to be dead. Preparations were being made for her funeral when she awoke asking, “How long have I slept?” She slowly regained her health. With her sister and her parents, she joined the Church. I will be eternally thankful to my great-grandmother, Susan Kent, for her testimony of the Book of Mormon and what it meant in her life and now in mine.

God offers us counsel not just for our own safety, but for the safety of His other children, whom we should love. There are few comforts so sweet as to know that we have been an instrument in the hands of God in leading someone else to safety. That blessing generally requires the faith to follow counsel when it is hard to do. An example from Church history is that of Reddick Newton Allred. He was one of the rescue party sent out by Brigham Young to bring in the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies. When a terrible storm hit, Captain Grant, captain of the rescue party, decided to leave some of the wagons by the Sweetwater River as he pressed ahead to find the handcart companies. With the blizzards howling and the weather becoming life-threatening, two of the men left behind at the Sweetwater decided that it was foolish to stay. They thought that either the handcart companies had wintered over somewhere or had perished. They decided to return to the Salt Lake Valley and tried to persuade everyone else to do the same.
Reddick Allred refused to budge. Brigham had sent them out, and his priesthood leader had told him to wait there. The others took several wagons, all filled with needed supplies, and started back. Even more tragic, each wagon they met coming out from Salt Lake they turned back as well. They turned back 77 wagons, returning all the way to Little Mountain, where President Young learned what was happening and turned them around again. When the Willie Company was finally found, and had made that heartrending pull up and over Rocky Ridge, it was Reddick Allred and his wagons that waited for them. (See Rebecca Bartholomew and Leonard J. Arrington, Rescue of the 1856 Handcart Companies [1992], 29, 33–34.)

In this conference you will hear inspired counsel, for instance, to reach out to the new members of the Church. Those with the faith of Reddick Newton Allred will keep offering friendship even when it seems not to be needed or to have no effect. They will persist. When some new member reaches the point of spiritual exhaustion, they will be there offering kind words and fellowship. They will then feel the same divine approval Brother Allred felt when he saw those handcart pioneers struggling toward him, knowing he could offer them safety because he had followed counsel when it was hard to do.

While the record does not prove it, I am confident that Brother Allred prayed while he waited. I am confident that his prayers were answered. He then knew that the counsel to stand fast was from God. We must pray to know that. I promise you answers to such prayers of faith.

Let me share a very specific example to help you understand both the power and importance of building on such a foundation. The example I've chosen represents the most important aspect of building in which my wife, Margaret, and I have personally been involved - the building of our marriage and family. Even before we were married in the Logan Temple, we had decided that we wanted to build our marriage and family on the Savior and His teachings. We wanted a family built on a foundation of love, respect and service and obedience to all of the Savior's teachings. But like every young couple, we had much to learn about how to put that into practice. We had to adapt and learn how to become "doers" of His teachings, not just "hearers only."

Over the years as our family grew in number and age, and our personal circumstances made it possible to do so, we began planning for an extended family vacation every few years. Let me tell you about one of those memorable vacations. We decided we would go to Europe for three weeks, renting a van and staying in youth hostels, a friend's vacation house, and other inexpensive venues available at that time.

We gave assignments to our five children - ranging in age from 5 to 14 - to prepare reports on each of the places we would visit and to share those during the business portion of family home evening. We also decided where we would go in each country visited, what we would take with us, and what cities we wanted to stay in each Saturday and Sunday night so we could attend church and keep the Sabbath appropriately. This past week as I was preparing for this devotional, I asked our youngest son, Spencer, who was only five years old when we took that vacation to Europe, what he remembered of the trip. I was struck by his response. He said, "I recall so many wonderful memories: the big red van we all piled into, playing games in the airports as we waited for flights, the narrow streets in Spain where we had to pull in the side mirrors of our van to avoid having them hit the walls of houses, trying to keep serious faces for a photo in an old castle in Germany, falling into a cold mountain stream in Switzerland and having you come to the rescue and put an icy cold compress on my cheek, seeing the St. Bernard dogs at the border of Switzerland and Italy, and taking the ferry from Holland to England. But most of all I just remember the wonderful time we had as a family." Here is a photo of our family and that red van as we prepared to board the ferry in Rotterdam.

It has been over thirty years since we took that trip, but each of our five children remembers the many wonderful experiences as a family. At the time, our children thought they were going on a vacation, but Margaret and I hoped that we were building an eternal family on a foundation of love, respect and service. That trip was so successful that a few years later we took a fishing trip to Alaska. Here is one of the memorable photos from that trip. As we continued building our family on that sure foundation, their love, respect and service for each other continued to grow.

In 2001, Margaret and I were presiding over the England London Mission and 200 missionaries when my mother passed away after years of illness. Because we could not attend the funeral, our five children represented us. Here is a photo of them on that occasion as they supported each other while we were thousands of miles away.

Fortunately, that foundation of love, respect and service that we have sought to build for our family has continued to stand the test of time. Five years ago, our family decided to take another fishing vacation to that same spot in Alaska where we had gone decades earlier. Here is a photo from that vacation. And so you don't think we only gather for vacations, let me share one more photo when our family came for my inauguration as President of BYU–Hawaii in 2007. As captured in this photo we again had all of our family together. You will recognize the location as the Laie Temple. This is the photo I use as my screensaver on my personal computer. It reminds me daily that temples are an integral part of our family's foundation.

While we continue to renew and strengthen the foundation we started building on over forty years ago, we know now, even more surely that we did then, that the Lord and His gospel are the only sure foundation on which to build a marriage and family. As stated so clearly by the Psalmist: "Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it;"

One such opportunity came unexpectedly. My companion and I were once “trapped” in a room surrounded by ministers from another church who were trying to discredit our teachings. We refused to contend with them and silently prayed for a way to escape. Then, a seminary lesson came to mind. I asked them, “How would you describe the taste of salt to someone who has never tasted it?” Some tried but could not do so, until one finally said, “It’s simple—just taste it!” I then held up my copy of the Book of Mormon and asked, “Has any of you read this book?” No one raised their hand or responded in the affirmative. Only silence ensued. That gave us the opportunity to bear our testimonies and invite them to read it for themselves. The encounter ended peacefully, and word of it spread in the community, opening doors that had previously been closed to us.

When I turned 12, I was very eager to go to the temple for the first time. My mother and I went onto FamilySearch to find some family names for me to take. When I went to the Cardston Alberta Temple, I was baptized for my great-grandmothers and great-aunts, and I felt so warm inside.
When I was 14, I began to attend the family history classes in my ward, but I had a hard time finding family names. I eventually set a goal to find my great-grandfather’s family, the Thomas family.
I found several records about William Alfred Thomas. It turns out that he was the first person in my family to go to South Africa, my birthplace. I searched for more information about him for a year, but I still couldn’t find much more about him or his family. I just could not shake the feeling that the Thomas family wanted to be found.
One day I received the distinct prompting to look for William’s wife, Francina. A number of records came up—I had finally found them! I ecstatically told my parents, and my grandfather confirmed it to be the correct line.
My brother and I have now been baptized and confirmed for five generations of the Thomas line, all because of perseverance and a special prompting!
Family history does not always come together immediately, but doing it truly does bring a light into your life.
Savannah B., Canada

I sometimes respond by citing a story that is told about the Church when a federal army was sent out here to harass the Saints. The Brethren had decided on a policy of irritation without violence. In keeping with that policy Porter Rockwell and Lot Smith were dispatched to a distant army camp where Lot Smith was to secretly and quietly remove the pins from the army’s wagon wheels while Porter Rockwell was to drive off all the army’s horses. In the dark of night, Lot was busily taking out wagon wheel pins, and Porter war-whooped into the camp and drove off all the horses, including Lot Smith’s. Lot later walked wearily many miles back to Church headquarters and reportedly said, “Brethren, we’ve just got to get correlated.” Today’s correlation challenges are different, but the basic need remains.

Raúl and his family live in the small Paraguayan town of Piquete Cué. In the nearby town of Limpie, there is a beautiful LDS meetinghouse where a ward meets. But each Sunday, Raúl and his family pass the Limpie Ward’s meetinghouse on their two-hour bus ride to the town of Villa Hayes. There they attend a tiny branch that meets in a small rented house. Why don’t they go to the ward that is so much closer to their home?
“Because the branch in Villa Hayes needs us,” says Raúl’s father, Luciano, who works as an industrial engineer. “There are so few members in the branch that they really need us there.” Brother Aquino is first counselor in the branch presidency. Sister Aquino has been Relief Society president and now teaches a Primary class.
Raúl attends Primary and loves to learn more about the Book of Mormon. “I don’t know how to read it yet,” he says. “But my mamá and papá read it to me.”
Raúl often bears his testimony in sacrament meeting. He told the branch members recently that he’d had a headache—but when he prayed, it went away.
He also remembers the time his dad was seriously sick. Raúl’s mother thought he was going to die. She rode a bus to the missionaries’ house to ask them to give him a blessing. They weren’t home, so she left them a message. When they arrived several hours later, Raúl’s father was so sick he could hardly talk. The missionaries gave him a blessing—and within half an hour, he was up and feeling much better.
“I really want my eight birthday to come so I can be baptized,” Raúl says. “And I want to be a missionary.”
Raúl already is a missionary. “I know that the Book of Mormon and the Church of Jesus Christ are true,” he says. “I would tell children all over the world to try to love everyone—especially the children that I see in the streets who don’t have a home. They make me cry a lot. Be thankful to Heavenly Father and also to our parents. Love the Church of Jesus Christ, take the sacrament, and always pray.”
Then Raúl climbs up his favorite tree. From his leafy perch, he waves good-bye.

Although we live on the east coast of Queensland, Australia, we are Germans. My husband, Siegfried, was born in Danzig, and I was born in what is now the Czech Republic. When we considered going on a mission, we had concerns. Our family is constantly growing. The separation would be very hard for us. Our little house couldn’t be rented, and there were financial worries. We discussed it together and spoke about all the pros and cons. But in the end we knelt down and asked our Father in Heaven for guidance. After that it was very easy. We both had a good feeling and the certainty that we should go on a mission.
In the application the bishop gave us, we could list the country we wanted to go to. Of course that was Germany. And although it seemed rather doubtful that we would be sent to the other side of the world, our Heavenly Father knew exactly what we needed. We were asked to fulfill a temple mission in Freiberg, Germany. I was excited because I still understand the Czech language from my youth and can speak a little bit. I knew that members from Eastern Europe often visit the Freiberg temple.
We began our mission on February 25, 1992. Our temple president was Jirí Snederfler, and his wife, Olga, was the temple matron. What excellent people they were—loving and always friendly.
We experienced only good things in Freiberg. Everyone was helpful and nice. We worked hard, and we were a large family of temple workers who loved each other. We still keep in touch with many of them.
The highlight of our mission was the visit from the first members in Ukraine. We had prepared ourselves. The mission president’s wife spoke Russian, and even I learned part of one of the ordinances in Russian. These members had such a reverence for the house of the Lord. As they came and left, they bowed in humility. They were so happy they could receive their endowments, and many cried for joy and didn’t want to leave the temple.
Polish members come often to Freiberg, and at first my husband was nervous about meeting them. His grandmother had starved in a camp in Poland after World War II. But through meeting with these brothers and sisters and worshiping together with them, my husband was emotionally healed. This was a great blessing brought about by our mission.
My great blessing was becoming acquainted with a Czech sister named Marie Smidova. With her help I was able to begin work on my family history. There were no Church microfilms from the region I needed, and my knowledge of Czech isn’t sufficient to write to Czech officials for information. Sister Smidova has done much for me, and I am very thankful for her help.
When we returned home after 18 months, we were amazed at how our financial situation had improved. Our little house waited for us, and our children prepared a lovely welcome. After a year we went to Sydney, Australia, to serve a temple mission there for a year.
We are thankful for the experiences we have had through our work. We would remind every senior couple of the saying of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985): “Do it now!”

Paul and Mar Jean Lewis from Utah had already served three missions together (Palmyra New York Temple; Hong Kong China Temple; and Croatia, Serbia, and Slovenia with seminaries and institutes). They were preparing to serve another when their stake president asked, “Would you be willing to serve right here in our own stake, supporting the mission we live in?”
“We’re new here, so it was a wonderful opportunity,” Sister Lewis says. “We serve with the young elders and sisters, have a close association with the mission president, go to district and zone meetings, and work with ward mission leaders.” They also visit investigators and those who are less active.
“We have met wonderful people we would never have known otherwise,” Sister Lewis says, “including some who have drifted off the path. To see them come back, receive ordinances, and go to the temple is a wonderful blessing.”
“Many couples, when they think about serving a mission, are worried about what they’ll do with their home and their car or what they’ll miss out on with their family,” Elder Lewis says. “We’ve been able to live in our own house and drive our own car. We are encouraged to go to family activities, as long as they don’t interfere with missionary responsibilities. And we were even here for the birth of a grandchild.”

Years ago, when I was a Young Men president, there was a family that lived near our home with a son who was struggling. I had the opportunity to invite this young man to go boating with us. We spent several hours on the lake that day and we skied until the sun went down that evening. The boat ramp was several miles from where we were skiing and we were running low on gas. The night was very dark. We were using a spot light to find our way back to the boat ramp when the boat ran out of gas. The first thing that came to mind was it is going to be a very long night on this lake. As we talked about our options that were very limited we decided to pray for help.

We finished the prayer then sat quietly in the boat. After a short period of time that seemed long that night, we heard the sound of a small fishing boat coming toward us. We used our spotlight to get the fisherman's attention. We explained our situation and he offered to go the boat ramp to get a five-gallon can of gas he had in his truck. The Lord was mindful of our needs that night and our prayers were answered along with an opportunity to teach this young man and some of our family members the power of prayer.

“Ah, come on,” called Mike impatiently. “It’s going to be time to go home before we get started.”
“All right! Don’t rush me,” Jerry called back. Jerry, who never liked to be hurried, came out of the house dressed in a pirate costume.
“Hey, you look super,” Mike said.
“So do you, Mike. Where shall we start?”
“Let’s start with the Andersons next door,” Mike answered.
When the door opened, Jerry said, “Give us a treat or we’ll give you a trick.”
“Goodness,” said Mrs. Anderson in mock surprise, “I certainly don’t want a trick. Wait here and I’ll get you a treat.”
The door closed and Jerry started to giggle. “Wouldn’t it be fun if she refused to give us a treat and we could play a trick on her?”
“What would you do?” asked Mike.
“Something that would really make her cross.” He laughed again. “She really looks funny when she’s excited.”
“Sh-h. Here she comes,” cautioned Mike.
Mrs. Anderson returned with a bowl of apples. “Will these do?” she asked, offering each boy an apple.
“Thanks,” they called as they ran down the driveway.
An hour later Mike peered into his bag.
“Look at all this stuff!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go home. It’s getting kind of cold.”
“Why the big rush?” asked Jerry. “There’s still a lot of houses we can go to.”
“I guess I should have worn a heavier jacket,” complained Mike.
“Let’s go to just one more house, then we’ll go home,” Jerry promised, turning into the next driveway.
“All right, but not this house,” said Mike walking on.
“Why not?” asked Jerry, hurrying to catch up with him.
“Mr. Johnson lives there and he’s an old grouch.”
“I know he is,” said Jerry, “but Dad says it’s probably because his wife and little boy were killed in a car accident a few years ago.”
“But why should he take it out on us? We didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“I know,” said Jerry. “But Dad says that when some people are unhappy, they take it out on everyone around them.”
“He sure gets after us,” Mike complained. “The other day we walked across his lawn and you should have heard him. You’d have thought we were digging it up instead of just walking on it.”
“Dad says he used to be a real neat guy. He spent lots of time teaching the neighborhood kids how to play football.”
“Boy, has he changed! You wouldn’t catch him doing anything like that now,” Mike groused. “Say, I have a great idea. Since Mr. Johnson has been so crabby with us, let’s give him a little surprise.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“Let’s pile leaves against his front door so that when he opens it, a mountain of leaves will pour in on him.”
“That would be fun,” agreed Jerry, “but we’d better not. If my Dad found out, I’d be a goner.”
“Then what can we do?” Mike questioned.
The boys walked on in silence. “I know something we can do,” said Jerry finally.
“What?” asked Mike.
“The neighbors have given us lots of stuff, haven’t they?”
“Yeah?”
“We could fill a basket with some of our treats and leave it on Mr. Johnson’s porch. That would be a real surprise!”
“What kind of an idea is that?” Mike grumbled.
“Come on, Mike,” Jerry coaxed. “Let’s do it and see what happens.”
“Well, OK,” agreed Mike reluctantly, “but I think it’s a dumb idea.”
At Jerry’s house the boys found an old Easter basket and filled it with treats.
“Should we put a note on it or something?” Mike asked.
“Let’s write ‘Happy Halloween’ on a piece of paper and sign it ‘your friends,’” suggested Jerry.
At Mr. Johnson’s house the boys put the basket on the porch, rang the bell, and quickly hid behind some bushes. Mr. Johnson opened the door and peered out. When he realized no one was there, he scowled. “A prankster again. I should have known,” he muttered. Mr. Johnson started to close the door when he spied the basket. “What’s this?” he asked, picking it up. He read the card. “My! My!” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “What a surprise! Who would do such a nice thing?”
“He surely seems pleased,” whispered Mike.
“He does, doesn’t he,” answered Jerry.
The next morning Mr. Johnson was sitting on his porch when Mike and Jerry passed on their way to school. The basket was beside him. “Good morning,” he called, “would you boys come up here for a minute?”
Mike and Jerry exchanged glances. They started to walk across the lawn, then they changed their minds and walked on the sidewalk.
“Thank you for walking on the sidewalk and not across my lawn,” said Mr. Johnson. “I have a terrible time making it look decent with all these shade trees. Did you get lots of treats last night?” he asked.
“Yes sir, we did,” said Jerry.
“So did I,” said Mr. Johnson. “My treats were delivered in this basket,” and he lifted the basket up onto his lap. “It brought back a lot of memories. It reminds me of a basket my little boy once had. He used to fill it with treats for his grandmother then secretly leave it on her porch. Could you help me eat some of these goodies?”
The boys looked at each other and then helped themselves to a cookie. As they ate, Mr. Johnson went on talking. “Thinking about my little boy made me remember how I used to kick a football around with him. Maybe you boys would like to go to the park Saturday with me. I used to play a lot of football.”
“That would be neat,” said Mike.
“Yeah,” said Jerry, “we’d like that. Can we stop by on our way home from school and make plans?”
“You bet,” Mr. Johnson answered. “I’ll be expecting you.”
The boys started toward school but stopped to wave good-bye to their new friend before they turned the corner.
“Jerry,” said Mike just before they entered the school building, “I’m glad we didn’t do that dumb thing I suggested about piling leaves on Mr. Johnson’s porch. It was a lot more fun surprising him with the basket. I can hardly wait until Saturday!”

The author’s parents not long before her father died.
Photograph courtesy of the author
As a child, I always loved spending time with my dad. To me, he was the funniest, smartest person in the world. In my young eyes, he was a lot like Moroni, “a strong and a mighty man … of a perfect understanding” (Alma 48:11). He was one of my greatest friends.
One of the things I remember most about my father was how hard he worked for his family. It was not always easy to support a wife and six children, so he would often juggle three jobs at a time to give us the things we needed. He definitely did “labor exceedingly for the welfare and safety of his people” (Alma 48:12). Even at a young age, I could see that my father’s biggest concern was making his family happy.
Time spent with my busy dad was always time well spent. Some of my fondest memories with him include the nights we watched old Western movies on the couch and the weekends we spent at our favorite campsites.
I especially loved gathering as a family in the evenings to read from the scriptures. My father had a great love for the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon. He wanted all his children to know and treasure the Book of Mormon as well.
He often used my brothers’ action figures to reenact classic Book of Mormon stories like those of Samuel the Lamanite, the stripling warriors, and the brother of Jared. He brought to life a book that for me as a child was sometimes hard to understand. My father’s love for the Book of Mormon was contagious. Not only did he share the captivating stories, but he also taught our family to live its teachings.
When I was 14 years old, my family received a visit from two police officers telling us that my father had passed away in a car accident on his way home from work one night. At first it was hard for me to believe that it had actually happened. I felt that we saw things like this only in movies. But it soon became very real and extremely difficult for my family. For some of us, it was easy to wonder why a loving God would take such a great man from a family who needed him so much.
Shortly after his death, my mother gathered us kids around the table that my father had made just a few years before and said something that I have never forgotten. She told us, “Now it is time to put into practice everything that we believe.”
My mind went back to my father’s love of the scriptures, and I began to read them more diligently on my own. Over time, I felt greater peace in my life. Certain verses brought me hope that I would see my father again because of the Resurrection of the Savior. I experienced personally that “the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ” (Mosiah 16:8).
Photograph posed by model
Reading the Book of Mormon has taught me that our loving Heavenly Father knows each of us and speaks to us in times of need through the holy scriptures. I have come to understand that we will all experience trials no matter who we are, but that Heavenly Father loves us enough to give us tools to find peace even during our darkest times. For me, one of these tools has been the Book of Mormon.
I will forever be grateful for my father’s example and for the way his love of the scriptures has changed my life.