Gospel Story Finder

In a meeting with the First Presidency, the president of the Republic of Ghana, John A. Kufuor, expressed appreciation for the Church’s humanitarian and religious contributions to his nation. “We consider you as part of Ghana,” he told President Gordon B. Hinckley; President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency; and President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, during a visit to Salt Lake City in September.
Visiting the United States to attend United Nations General Assembly meetings, President Kufuor traveled to Utah with several other officials to discuss economic development with local government and community leaders. While there, he visited Church leaders and toured Church sites, including Welfare Square, Temple Square, and the Conference Center.
President Kufuor thanked the Church for humanitarian efforts and employment services in his country. The Church has sponsored more than 140 humanitarian projects in Ghana during the past 15 years.
In return, President Hinckley invited President Kufuor to the open house of the Accra Ghana Temple, scheduled to be completed in the fall of 2003. He also thanked President Kufuor for cooperating with the Church.
“It was a very mutually beneficial visit, as well as an opportunity to express thanks and appreciation,” said Elder H. Bruce Stucki of the Seventy, former President of the Africa West Area.
The Church has five stakes and an estimated 20,000 members in Ghana. Currently under construction there are a temple, temple patron housing, a stake center, and an area office building.

Dodo Miul – “I am in Tonga for my temple endowment. I am very happy to be here to save my ancestors who have already passed. I know that they have been in the spirit world smiling away and waiting to receive this. I am so grateful for these temple experiences.”

Guess what! Mom says I can come to your family home evening.
Cool! My mom said to tell you your parents are invited too.
I think Mom might like to come. But my dad doesn’t live with us. … They’re divorced.
Oh. Sorry.
That’s OK. You didn’t know.
Do you miss him?
Yeah. I wish he and Mom still loved each other. I mean … I know they both love me, but …
I know somebody else who loves you—even more than you can imagine. And He can help you feel better when you’re sad.
Who?
You’ll find out on Monday night.
Good news! Audrey can come Monday night. And probably her mom. I’ve got a great lesson idea. Can you help me with it?
To be continued …

A bonnet from pioneer days was unraveling, so a simple round support was sewn to help it retain its shape. In addition, Sister Hadley added an identical piece of silk over the original, connected by tiny hand-stitching.

One hot summer day our family decided that the best way to enjoy the afternoon would be to go to the mountains. Long on our list of things to do together was a trip to a nearby cave. After we had gotten our hiking gear together, a lunch was packed.
We set out on our journey with anticipation and soon found ourselves in the refreshing coolness of the mountains. At the cave we were greeted by a park ranger, who became our guide. He told us that originally there were three caves, discovered separately, but that now the caves were joined together by man-made passageways. We noticed that there were many levels of interesting rock formations, some of which remained unexplored. Pointing to a slight opening at the side of the trail, the ranger commented that there were two unpenetrated caverns below the path on which we stood. He said, “We hope to explore both of these some day, but as yet we haven’t found a satisfactory way to get in and out of those lower caves.”
Ducking our heads to avoid contact with sharp-edged rocks, we walked along a narrow, slippery path with the unknown leading off in every direction. In order to keep our balance, it was often necessary for us to grip an iron pipe attached to the cave wall alongside the trail.
I had fallen to the end of the group to take some pictures with my camera, when suddenly the electric lights in the cave went out. Whether this was part of a demonstration to a group ahead of us or an unexpected power failure, I don’t know. Far ahead of me our guide raised his voice and it echoed back along the narrow passage. “Be calm, everyone; I’m sure the lights will come on momentarily. Everybody please stay on the trail and hold onto the railing.” His flashlight made only a tiny spark of yellow in the distance.
I had a strong mental image of the many jagged holes and side passages breaking off and down from the place where we stood. A person could get lost in one of these and never be seen again, I worried. To relax, I leaned against the slanted wall of rock. Feeling along the wall with my fingers, I found the iron railing. With the park ranger ahead and by holding onto the railing, we should be able to get out of here, I decided, even if the power isn’t restored.
An excited murmur of voices rose from the group ahead of me, but it soon subsided. We all seemed to sense that as long as we stayed on the trail and followed the advice of the guide, who had been over the path before, there would be no danger. There was no fear because we could hear his voice and feel the railing firmly fixed to the rocky wall of the cave.
After a few minutes the lights came on and we were able to continue our tour and view the wondrous beauty of the cave. But what would have happened if someone had abandoned the trail or let go of the railing? What if anyone had tried to get out by himself by feeling his way along the cave floor in the dark? What chance would any of us have had of getting out without the railing or without the ranger?
There have been many other exciting and memorable family outings, and each one has taught lessons of love, understanding, and cooperation. But on that long-ago day when I held tightly to a damp iron railing in a dark cave, I learned a lesson in faith that I have never forgotten.

“At a distant conference, my plane brought me to the city many hours early. The stake president met me at the airport and took me to his home. Having important work to do, he excused himself and returned to his work. With the freedom of the house, I spread my papers on the kitchen table and began my work. His wife was upstairs sewing. In mid-afternoon, there came an abrupt entry through the front door and a little fellow came running in, surprised to see me. We became friends; then he ran through the rooms calling, ‘Mother.’ She answered from upstairs, ‘What is it, darling?’ and his answer was, ‘Oh, nothing.’ He went out to play.
“A little later another boy came in the front door calling, ‘Mother, Mother.’ He put his school books on the table and explored the house until the reassuring answer came from upstairs again, ‘Here I am, darling,’ and the second one was satisfied and said, ‘Okay,’ and went to play. Another half hour and the door opened again and a young teenager moved in, dropped her books, and called, ‘Mother.’ And the answer from upstairs, ‘Yes, darling,’ seemed to satisfy and the young girl began practicing her music lesson.
“Still another voice later called, ‘Mother,’ as she unloaded her high school books. And again the sweet answer, ‘I am up here sewing, darling,’ seemed to reassure her. She tripped up the stairs to tell her mother the happenings of the day. Home! Mother! Security! Just to know Mother was home. All was well.” (Faith Precedes the Miracle, pp. 117–18.)

Julia’s heart pounded as she peeked into the empty room. The Primary classroom, with its half circle of folding chairs and dusty chalkboard, looked exactly like hers at home. But Julia’s stomach flip-flopped as she walked through the door. Things might look the same, but Julia knew they weren’t. Today she was a visitor.
Julia sank into the chair farthest from the door. She loved everything about her family’s summer visits to see cousins and grandparents, except for being a visitor in a different ward. Singing Primary songs and learning about the Savior was nice, but she didn’t like sitting by herself and not knowing anyone.
Julia also didn’t like listening to the other kids talk and laugh together while no one even looked at her. To her, it felt like no one cared if she came or not. It was like being invisible—Julia, the amazing invisible visitor!
Julia twirled her long blonde braids and wished she were back home with her own Primary teacher, Sister Johansson, and her best friend, Hanna. “Maybe this time will be different,” she told herself as she adjusted her glasses and smoothed her skirt one more time. “Maybe if I try really hard, I can make it different.”
Julia jumped as the door opened. Three girls stepped into the room, talking excitedly. Two boys followed. Julia took a quick breath and forced her mouth into a smile.
“Hi!” she burst out. Suddenly everyone’s eyes were on her. Julia’s face got hot.
“Uh, hi,” mumbled one of the girls.
“Are you new?” another girl asked.
Julia cleared her throat. “No, I’m just visiting my grandma.”
“Oh.”
Everyone chose a seat. Julia’s smile faded when she realized that each chair was taken except the one next to her. No one said a word to Julia. She stared at her hands. “The amazing invisible visitor strikes again,” she thought. A tear slid down her cheek.
A week later Julia’s heart seemed to float as she hurried down the hallway at church. It was so good to be home! When she walked into her classroom, Hanna was already there.
“Hi, Julia! I’m so glad you’re back!” Hanna said.
Julia sat down next to Hanna. Soon they were laughing and talking. Julia had just started to tell Hanna all about her week with Grandma when a tall, slender girl with reddish-gold hair appeared in the doorway. Julia watched the girl slip into the chair farthest from the door and sit by herself.
“She must be a visitor,” Julia thought. “Boy, am I glad it’s not me this time!” The girl raised her eyes to look around and then stared down at her hands. Julia’s heart twisted as no one said a word to the visitor. “I wish being the visitor didn’t have to be so hard,” she thought. “It should be different!” Last Sunday flashed through her mind for a moment as she remembered being the sad, invisible visitor. She blinked. Wait a minute—she could make it different this time!
Julia stood up. “Hi,” she said with a smile. She crossed the room and sat down in the chair next to the girl. “Are you visiting today?”
The girl looked up with wide eyes, and then her face lit up. “Yes, I’m visiting my aunt. Are you visiting too?”
Julia shook her head. “No, but I know how it is,” she explained. “I’m Julia. What’s your name?”
“Ella.”
“Want to come over and sit with Hanna and me?”
Ella grinned and nodded. As the two girls moved back across the room, Julia felt warm inside. “No invisible visitors allowed!” she thought. “Not if I can help it!”

When my brother and I fight, I sing the Primary song “Jesus Said Love Everyone.” It helps me be more like Jesus.
Nora P., age 4, Florida, USA

When I was in the eighth grade, I competed in miniature bull riding in the Idaho Junior Rodeo Association. The whole year, I battled back and forth for first place with a boy named Spencer. One week I would be in first place, and the next week he would be.
At the last rodeo of the year, Spencer pulled ahead of me—but just barely. To win, all I had to do was ride a little bit better. I came out of the chute and was riding great. Then, right before the buzzer, I got bucked off. That was it. Spencer was the new champion.
After the rodeo, I noticed him praying behind the chutes where he thought no one could see him. He was my greatest rival, but I wanted to be nice, so I went over and congratulated him, and he told me he appreciated the kind words. We started talking about our dreams of being world champions. I got to thinking he was a pretty cool guy. From that day on, we were best friends, and every summer after that, we always did things together.

One Saturday morning many years ago, my brothers and sisters and I scurried around the house, doing our chores early. We were excited because Dad had promised to take the family for a ride in the five-year-old station wagon he had recently bought. We had wanted him to get a newer vehicle, but he said a newer car would be too expensive. Besides, he said, the one we bought was heavier and would be safer in an accident. That was an important factor for Mom, who had recently been in a terrible head-on collision and had almost died.
Once we had finished preparing everything, we all piled into the car—Mom, Dad, and seven children, including an infant son. Since we were going out for a Saturday-afternoon drive, we didn’t pack a lunch or take anything to drink.
We made our way out to the highway and headed north. It was hot, and we had no air-conditioning. The vista around us was the bleak, open desert, with scattered desert plants, an occasional outcropping of rock or a telephone pole, and the low mountain ranges on the horizon. Despite the heat and barren scenery, we were content to be on a fun family outing.
The mood of contentment was broken, however, by a whimper from my mother. The memory of her accident was still fresh, and the sight of oncoming cars frightened her terribly. Dad decided for her sake to get off the highway. “Here we are,” he said in a cheery voice as he turned onto a dirt road that followed a row of huge power lines. Leaving a cloud of dust behind us, the car whistled down the old road. To my 13-year-old mind this was all great fun.
Enjoying the ride, none of us children noticed the troubled look that came to Dad’s face. But my mother knew something was wrong. “What is it, Anthony?” she asked.
“Well,” he answered, “it’s probably nothing, but that sand out there looks treacherous. We had better head back.” With that, he found a wide spot on top of a little hill and turned the car around.
We started back down the small incline and headed up the next little hill—and then it happened. The car sank in soft sand. Several of us got out and pushed as hard as we could, but it would not move forward. We managed to back it up onto some solid ground so Dad could get a run at the sandy area and try to drive through it. His repeated attempts at this failed, however, especially since he had to be careful not to back up too far into another sandy place. Each attempt moved the car a little ahead, but then it would sink even deeper into the soft, powdery sand.
The little children started to cry now. “We’re thirsty, Mom.” As the hot afternoon sun beat down, we could see heat waves coming up off the sand, distorting the view of the mountains on the horizon.
Then we heard in the distance a faint sound coming toward us. The drone of a single-engine aircraft grew louder and louder as it approached. “Oh, we are saved!” I cried as I saw the airplane. “Let’s all wave him down!” Frantically we waved our arms. This was the airplane that inspected power lines, and the pilot was flying so low we could see him leaning out the window. He was returning, with a vigorous wave of his own, what he must have thought was a greeting from us. As the plane flew off and the sound of its engine faded softly away, we knew we were on our own.
The situation was growing desperate. We had no food or water, my mother was struggling with a now hysterical baby, the four girls were crying, and even my brother and I began to doubt our chances of getting home safely.
Dad called us together and said, “We have only one thing left to do. Let’s ask Heavenly Father for help.” We all knelt in the burning sand and bowed our heads as Dad poured out his heart in behalf of the entire family. He explained our situation to the Lord in detail, including all of the things we had done to free ourselves, and then he pleaded for help.
After the prayer we stood, and Dad said, “Let’s try it one more time.” He had all of us stay out of the car while he backed it up to make one more run. The engine roared as Dad took off as fast as he could. The car hit the sand, but this time it kept going as if it were floating. Dad drove to the top of the next hill and stopped on solid, rocky ground. We all cheered and ran toward the car.
When we reached it, Dad was sitting at the wheel, shaking and sobbing, something I had never seen him do before. When we asked him what the matter was, he looked up and said that it seemed to him as if the car had been lifted and carried over the sand by an unseen power.
We rode home quietly as the bright orange colors of the setting sun shone in the western sky. No one spoke, as if not to disturb the reverent feeling that lingered among us in the car. While I recognize that answers to prayers come in various forms and are not always dramatic, I am grateful to Heavenly Father for the blessings of that day.

Youth in Redlands, California, received high marks for their marksmanship at youth conference. Hitting a target before they were allowed to eat breakfast was part of an all-day event that focused on the Book of Mormon. The youth learned that, much like the pioneers that would follow hundreds of years later, the faithful Saints in the Book of Mormon have left behind a legacy of faith and courage.
After a long day of reading, role playing, and talking about the Book of Mormon, the youth held a testimony meeting.
“When I stood below the tower of King Benjamin and repeated what his people had said, I was there!” said one participant. “I asked for mercy and stated that I believed in Jesus Christ, and I really meant it.”

One night, I was at the grocery store with my mom. We saw a man in a wheelchair. He was shopping alone and had a full cart. My mom asked me if I wanted to help him unload his groceries. I said yes and went over and put all of his groceries on the checkout stand. After I finished, he offered to buy me a pack of gum. I said, “No thank you.” I felt very good inside. That was one of my best experiences ever.

I have always enjoyed reading the New Era, but not until recently have I realized how much goes into putting it together.
Our seminary visited the Church Office Building in Salt Lake City and went on the floors involved in putting together the magazines. We were amazed at all of the friendly people and all of the time and effort they put into making each issue the best possible.
After seeing all of this effort firsthand, I will always appreciate the New Era and be sure I read it from cover to cover.
Rebecca ClarkMidland, Michigan

The story of Barat and Ishla Powell of the Chennai Second Branch actually begins with Barat’s parents, Sathiadhas Powell and Suriya Kumari, who were married in 1981 and joined the Church in 1991. In 1993 Sathiadhas was called as branch president. After years of saving and preparing and before the Hong Kong Temple was dedicated, they traveled to the Manila Philippines Temple to be sealed.

In the course of our daily activities, we have many opportunities to teach others about the gospel. For six years, I have worked as an electrician on seagoing oil drilling rigs around the world. It is shift work—one month on and one month off. Relationships are temporary; if you want to make friends, you must concentrate your efforts because you may never see your fellow crew members again.
While working for an oil company in the North Sea off the coast of Great Yarmouth, England, I made a wonderful friend—a crane operator from Norwich, England, named James MacDonald.
One day as I entered the dining area for lunch, I saw James sitting at the table with his head bowed, asking a blessing on his meal. I was surprised to see someone so unafraid of being religious in the rough environment of the drilling business. Here was a man who truly desired the friendship of our Father in Heaven and who thanked him for his goodness. From that first day, I hoped I would have the opportunity to teach this man the gospel.
As I got to know James, we spent many hours discussing points of religious doctrine and comparing them with what the Savior taught. James had an excellent knowledge of the Bible. As our four-week tour of duty drew to a close, we both felt a sense of urgency. I wanted James to gain a conviction of the truth of the things I had taught him before we parted.
But there was one complication in our success: he was not sure that the Book of Mormon was really necessary. He had read it, and he said that it was a beautiful book. But he said, “Isn’t the Bible enough? We don’t need any more Bible. We have the teachings of Jesus to his people in our Bible.”
I then explained the principle of fasting and prayer and asked James if he would fast the next day. I told him that he should pray and ponder the questions he had in his heart until he felt he had received an answer.
As James retired to his room at the end of the day, he knelt in prayer to ask his Father in Heaven whether or not the Book of Mormon was necessary. He told our Heavenly Father that when he arose from prayer, he would open the Book of Mormon to find his answer. He knew that if it were true and necessary as holy scripture, the answer would come from it.
When he arose from praying, he opened the Book of Mormon and placed his finger upon a passage. It read:
“Thou fool, that shall say: A Bible, we have got a Bible, and we need no more Bible. Have ye obtained a Bible save it were by the Jews?
“Know ye not that there are more nations than one? Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, have created all men, and that I remember those who are upon the isles of the sea; and that I rule in the heavens above and in the earth beneath; and that I bring forth my word unto the children of men, yea, even upon all the nations of the earth?
“Wherefore murmur ye, because that ye shall receive more of my word? Know ye not that the testimony of two nations is a witness unto you that I am God, that I remember one nation like unto another? Wherefore, I speak the same words unto one nation like unto another. And when two nations shall run together the testimony of the two nations shall run together also.” (2 Ne. 29:6–8.)
As he read these words, he felt the thrilling warmth of the Holy Ghost. He fell again to his knees to give humble thanks to his Father in Heaven. He then made his way to my room and knocked on the door.
His countenance was bright, and his handshake was confident and strong. He told me: “I have received an answer to my prayers. I know the Book of Mormon is a true and necessary book and that you have taught me the truth.” He then said, “I want you to teach me, and I will listen and believe it all.” Far into the night we discussed gospel principles and prayed together, that we might both be enlightened, strengthened, and filled with knowledge.
The next day we left the oil rig to begin our respective journeys home. I told James that he could look up the Church in the telephone directory in order to set up a meeting with the missionaries. I didn’t know what would happen, but I trusted in the Lord that James would be able to find the elders without difficulty.
A week or so later I received a letter from a missionary in Norwich, England—a missionary who was originally from my own stake in El Paso, Texas. It read:
I am writing to thank you for giving us the opportunity of teaching and baptizing one of your friends. He is truly one of the Lord’s “valiant.” I wish you could have been there when James and I walked down into the font and I had the great honor of baptizing him into the Church of Jesus Christ. Brother MacDonald has been an answer to many people’s prayers. My companion and I had been fasting and praying forever a month to be led to someone to teach. When James called us and asked us to come and teach him, we knew that our prayers had been answered. May the Lord bless you.
Elder Barton
Within a few days, another letter came. This one, from James, read:
How grateful I am to our Heavenly Father for answering my prayers for guidance, wisdom, and knowledge! How thankful I am for the many blessings he has bestowed on me and my family! How great is the joy I have through the knowledge of the truth, for I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s true church restored to the earth in these last days. I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the Creator of all things, in whose image I am made. I know that he died as an atoning sacrifice for the sins of the world and that he could and did overcome death that all men could return to our Heavenly Father—to eternal life. I know that our Heavenly Father and our Lord Jesus Christ are two personages with flesh and bones and that they visited Joseph Smith and reestablished the Kingdom of God upon the earth. I have been and continue to be blessed with all manner of knowledge and wisdom in answer to my prayers. How great is my desire to serve the Lord faithfully to the glory of the Father and the Son.
With love in Christ,James P. MacDonald
These letters brought me great joy. I had obeyed the Lord’s commandments to every member: “Be a missionary,” and “Feed my sheep.” And through that obedience, I had not only gained a great friend, but I had also shared the joy of the gospel with him. As the Lord has said, “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:15.) I have tasted of that joy. It is great! And I hope to continue to bring souls unto him.

When dealing with our loss, my dad always found time for us to do family things together. Serving others also helped me a lot. Even though I was sad, other people were having troubles too. I helped them, and that made me feel better.

My family has always been my greatest teacher. I was born in Sevilla, Spain; then my family moved to Paraguay and later to Uruguay. Because we moved around, I often had to say good-bye to my friends. I relied more and more upon my family to be my friends. We learned to enjoy being with each other. Today many children spend most of their day with their friends; I spent mine with my family. I am grateful for that time with my family, because they will be my eternal friends.

Stephanie Post isn’t about to take any credit. She’s just been a friend. It’s no big thing, she assures. Anybody would do it.
Serena Oddens doesn’t exactly see things the same way. Her thoughts on Stephanie? It is a big thing and, no, not just anybody would do it.
“Stephanie really supported me through some rough times, and she’s been a great example to me,” says Serena.
It’s a Saturday in Den Haag, Netherlands. Youth from stakes in the Netherlands and Belgium have gathered together for a day-long activity, and Stephanie and Serena are happy. Although they’re in the same stake, they don’t get to see each other that often. As they sit on the lawn, the talk turns to the beginning of their friendship a few years earlier.
Serena thinks to when her life wasn’t where she knew it should be. “At my school, nobody was studying, and it seemed everybody was smoking and drinking and using drugs. I didn’t stop going to church, but I was hanging around with the wrong friends and not doing everything I should have been doing,” she says. “I see what’s become of many of my former friends, and I think had I stayed at that school nothing good would have become of me.”
Enter Stephanie. At the same time Serena’s mom asked her to transfer schools and leave her friends, Serena met Stephanie, 18, a member of the Almere Branch in the Den Haag Stake. “Stephie’s really supported me while telling me good stuff about the Church. She taught me things about the gospel that I didn’t even know,” Serena says. “Stephie always bears her testimony and tells me of the things she’s been through. It’s great for me.”
“But it’s not just one way,” Stephanie says of their friendship. “It’s not that I only helped Serena, because she’s helped me too. She’s been a really good friend.”
Now Stephanie is making a path of her own, and Serena has joined her. Right at the time when things seemed to be falling apart for Serena, Stephanie appeared on the scene. Although distance keeps them apart—Almere is a one-hour car ride from Serena’s home in Alkmaar—they remain close. Thank goodness for phones.
“There are no other members of the Church at my school, and I often feel like I am the only one who is doing good and right things,” says 17-year-old Serena. “I sometimes feel like I am standing alone. Stephie was there along with all my friends from church who were supporting me. But the thing about Stephie is that she knows everything about me and I know everything about her.
“When I’m feeling down or upset,” she continues, “it’s like my school friends don’t understand me or what I’m feeling or what I’m going through. When I talk to her about it, we can get things off our chests and she understands.”
Stephanie knows teenagers in Holland aren’t much different from those all over the world. Once they hit their teenage years, they start experimenting and changing. She’s just glad she was there to help Serena.
“I think it’s really sad to see the youth we have hung out with in our stake go fully inactive or have other troubles that take them from the Church,” Stephanie says. “But it’s really nice to hear that someone who has been inactive for a while is active again or going on a mission. That’s what’s been so great about Serena.”
Serena agrees. “Stephanie helped me to understand that I don’t need to be ashamed of my standards. When I think back to my inactive stage, it isn’t that I’m jealous of Stephanie because she didn’t go inactive. But if I could turn back the hands of time, I would do things differently.”

The Prophet’s younger brother Samuel, mentioned in eight sections of the Doctrine and Covenants, became the third martyr of Carthage, dying a month after the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum. His death was in part a result of complications rising from his courageous ride to Carthage, before a pursuing mob, to rescue his brothers. Arriving too late to help his brothers, he accompanied their bodies back to Nauvoo and joined them in death soon after.12

Some years ago, President Thomas S. Monson came to a regional conference in Hamburg, Germany, and it was my honor to accompany him.
President Monson asked about Brother Michael Panitsch, a former stake president who had been one of the stalwart pioneers of the Church in Germany. I told him that Brother Panitsch was seriously ill, that he was bedridden and unable to attend our meetings.
President Monson asked if we could pay him a visit.
I knew that shortly before his trip to Hamburg, President Monson had undergone foot surgery and that he could not walk without pain. I explained that Brother Panitsch lived on the fifth floor of a building with no elevators. We would have to climb the stairs to see him.
But President Monson insisted. And so we went.
I remember how difficult it was for President Monson to climb those stairs. He could take only a few at a time before needing to stop and rest. He never uttered a word of complaint, and he would not turn back. Because the building had high ceilings, the stairs seemed to go on forever, but President Monson cheerfully persevered until we arrived at the apartment of Brother Panitsch on the fifth floor.
Once there, we had a wonderful visit. President Monson thanked him for his life of dedicated service and cheered him with a smile. Before we left, he gave him a wonderful priesthood blessing.
President Monson could have chosen to rest between our long meetings. He could have asked to see some of the beautiful sights of Hamburg. I have often thought of how remarkable it was that of all the sights in that city, the one he wanted to see more than any other was a feeble and ailing member of the Church.
President Monson came to Hamburg to teach and bless the people of a country. But at the same time, he focused on the one.