Gospel Story Finder

Ulisses Soares
(9) Moses Mahlangu and others in South Africa sit outside a church and listen to services through a window.

And then Miriam finally agreed to go on a date with me. She was the best-looking girl in the ward (also in the stake; probably in the Church), and she had finally broken up with Alvin Hopper, which was no great loss to her and a tremendous gain to a college freshman like myself with excellent taste in girls. On my fourth try she agreed to go out with me. I shot the works. The LTD, complete with car wash, a $30 dinner in San Francisco, a drive through beautiful scenery on the way up, Bayshore Freeway on the way back, and charming, delightful conversation all the way. The conversation was the only thing free on the whole date.
And she was worth it. She could discuss at least 13 different topics intelligently and got a B- on all the others, which means she was more than just a pretty face. She let me open doors for her and took my arm without my even having to hint. She looked me right in the eye and never let her gaze linger for a moment on the slight complexion problem that had appeared mysteriously on my chin the day before. She was perfect.
On the way home, after we left the freeway, she asked, “You don’t happen to have a throat lozenge or anything like that? I have kind of a sore throat.”
“In the glove compartment,” I said. Mom kept the glove compartment like a medicine chest—aspirin, throat lozenges, cough drops, breath mints, Kleenex, eye drops, bandages, and disinfectant. She figured that if we all had the flu and got into a traffic accident, she could make everybody feel better in minutes. Miriam reached into the glove compartment, found the lozenges, and also found the pad of Automobile Record sheets.
“What’s this?” she asked.
So I told her. All about the lease agreement. How much it cost and everything. I was just about to tell her how terrible it all was when she interrupted me.
“That’s terrible,” she said. “I can’t believe parents doing anything like that! Who do they think they are?”
“Parents,” I said.
“Well, I’m glad my parents are more generous than that. It sounds like your father must be Ebenezer Scrooge and your mother must be Shylock.”
“Shylock was a man.”
“Stingy, anyway. How much do they charge you for lunch and dinner?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m surprised. Do they have a coin box and water meter on the shower? Do they make you pay for clean sheets?”
“Of course not,” I said.
“A car is a necessity of life,” she said. “Parents have a responsibility to provide them for their children.”
Now, you have to understand. I’m not an argumentative person. I’m quite easy to get along with. But she was talking about my parents, judging them just by the fact that they ran a rip-off car leasing business with a captive clientele. I couldn’t let her go unanswered. So I answered.
“Listen, Miriam, a car is different from showers and food and bedding. It’s a lot more expensive. And I eat three meals a day and sleep once a night and take a shower every morning. It’s regular and predictable and it doesn’t go up and down. But the car I use as often as I like, and we kids used to use the cars all the time. It cost the folks hundreds and hundreds of dollars every month. And so it was perfectly fair for them to decide we should help pay.”
“You can’t live in the modern world without a car. They might as well charge you for air.” She sounded upset.
“You can live without a car,” I said. “You can walk, for example. I’ve walked to school a lot the last few months.”
“I can imagine,” she said darkly.
“I’ve enjoyed it. I’ve discovered there are things you can’t see from a car.”
“Like bubble gum on a sidewalk,” she said, sounding rather snide.
“I think it’s a good idea for us to help our parents pay for the cars.”
“And I think anybody who thinks that is crazy.”
“You do?” I asked, and I think by now I also sounded upset.
“I do. If word of this gets around, other people’s parents will try it, too, and pretty soon an entire generation of young people will be trapped at home with their families night after night.”
It shows you how angry I was. I said, “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. And furthermore, I think that it’s perfectly possible for people to have a good time together without having a car at all. I think it would be a wonderful date just to walk over to a girl’s house and take her out walking and talking and maybe looking in store windows or maybe just seeing a little bit of the neighborhood and just getting to know each other without spending any money at all.”
“That sounds hideous.”
“Then,” I said, “I won’t ask you out on such a date.”
I took her home and neither of us said another word except for a perfunctory good-night-and-thanks-for-a-wonderful-evening at the door.
When I got home, after filling the gas tank, I wrote down the mileage on the odometer, figured out my total car costs for the evening, and went inside, got the money from my room, and went into Mom and Dad’s bedroom, where they were reading the Old Testament out loud to each other the way they do every night.
“Did you have a nice time?” asked Mother.
“Wonderful,” I said. “I want to settle up for tonight.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that until the first of the month,” Dad said.
“I want to do it now.” I showed them how much I owed them, counted out the money, and handed it to them. Then I carefully placed a five dollar bill on top of the rest.
“What’s that for?” asked Mother.
“It’s a tip,” I said. “For service above and beyond the call of duty.
“I think you’re wonderful. I’m glad you laid it on the line with us. I’m glad you shared the responsibility of paying for the entire U.S. automobile industry with us kids. It’s the most adult thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.”
Mother got tears in her eyes. Father said, “I think Jerry’s grown up, don’t you, Mother?”
“Yes,” Mother agreed.
“Well, you’re both wrong,” I said. “I’m just completely out of my mind.”
I kissed them both good-night and went straight to bed feeling pretty doggone good. Also pretty doggone poor, since I had about six bucks to last me through the rest of the month. But as my sister Anne pointed out, money isn’t everything. In fact, it’s hardly anything.

Ever wish you could escape into a book and live there instead of in your own life? That was me in high school. My sister used to joke that if I was in the middle of a good read, the house could burn down and I wouldn’t notice.
What’s more, I was horribly shy. I felt awkward and unsure of myself and frequently had little or nothing to say. So to avoid socializing, I preferred to find a quiet spot where I could sit and read.
My family had moved several times during my middle school years. Changing schools so often added to my barrier of shyness. Why try to break through when it was easier to just get lost in the pages of a book?
But then one day, while I was reading, I kept thinking about what had happened the previous weekend. Nels, one of the young men in my circle of Church friends, noticed that I kept to myself most of the time. He decided to help me change that.
Nels’s sister and my sister were friends, and one night I went with my dad to pick up my sister at Nels’s house. While we were waiting, Nels came out and asked if I was going to the school dance that night. Just as I was about to say no, my dad said, “There’s a dance? Of course she’ll be there.” On the way home, Dad talked to me about the importance of participating.
Scared to death, I went to the dance. Nels saw me, asked me to dance, and after a few awkward moments, he said, “You don’t like to dance, do you? Let’s just talk instead.” We spent the rest of the evening discussing the challenges we each faced, including the fact that I was painfully shy, liked to read, and refused to spend the lunch hour with our mutual friends.
“It’s good that you love to read,” he said. “But it’s not good to isolate yourself. Why don’t you come sit at our table at lunch? Everyone will be happy to see you.” I hesitantly agreed to try it—sometime. Then I changed the subject.
Thinking back on the weekend made it difficult to focus on what I was reading, so I thought about taking Nels up on his offer to sit with the others. Since the lunch hour was half over, however, I decided that I would be brave tomorrow. Maybe. With that tentative plan in place, I went back to my book.
Then, without warning, I heard someone calling, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” It was Nels. He appeared out of nowhere. He ignored my excuses about how it was too late to join our friends for lunch.
“Right now,” he said, “you need to socialize more than you need to read.” And with that, he gathered up my books and nearly dragged me to the lunchroom, encouraging me all the way.
From then on—not all at once, but a little at a time—my life became fuller. I learned how to talk to others. I found that I enjoyed becoming acquainted with people I otherwise would not have met. I broke through the shyness barrier!
A few years later Nels and I talked about that day. When I thanked him for helping me to overcome my shyness, he said, “Oh, it wasn’t much. You just needed a little encouragement.” And that’s the point: Sometimes a listening ear and a little encouragement can make all the difference.

Anderson based the forgiveness “Muru” panel on a talk by President James E. Faust (1920 –2007). In the talk, Faust told a tragic story about a group of Amish people who forgave and served the family of someone who had killed multiple Amish children. Anderson said that story of forgiveness inspired him to create shapes that look like the white foam on top of rapids to parallel the importance of forgiving and moving on.

“If you don’t forgive, you can get caught up in the rapids, and can drown, but as you forgive, you move into more peaceful, calm water,” he said.

When 21-year-old Elie Monga of Kolwezi read the Book of Mormon in 1987, he was impressed. “I strongly felt,” he later said, “that that’s what I need.” Monga traveled the 300 kilometers to Lubumbashi to meet with the missionaries. After only one discussion, he decided to be baptized. After his baptism, with encouragement from missionaries, he held Sunday School meetings in his home. “We started gathering and teaching our friends [and family],” he said, “bringing them the message of hope through the restored gospel.” A large group was soon meeting in Monga’s home. When the first baptismal service in Kolwezi was held the next year, it took more than three and a half hours for Monga to baptize the 82 converts who had accepted the gospel. It was one success among many: in 1990, just four years after the Church received government recognition, branches and districts were thriving in Kinshasa, Lubumbashi, and many other cities throughout the country.

For three days Old Mom was “just another member of the herd.” Then things changed: All one night the circus train had traveled in a driving rain. When they reached their destination, the circus lot was far from the railway tracks. In between were several bridges that didn’t look quite safe.
“Belle!” the circus owner called to his young queen. “Come and test the bridge.”
The man waited and called again, but the young leader didn’t move. Then Old Mom stepped forward. Cautiously she laid one foot on the bridge and waited for a snap. Hearing none, she placed another foot on the span. Stepping daintily, she made her way across the bridge and trumpeted for the others to follow. Old Mom was now in command!

Gently juggling your way
Through choir seats,
Careful not to step
On toes
Or spill the tray,
You tiptoe through
The rows and peek
This way
Through horned-rim glasses,
Crooked tie and
Smile.
You offer me such
Godly goods
And spiritual food
And walk away
Never realizing
What you’ve done for me
This Sabbath day.

When I was in grade four, some of the kids in my class said that every recess they would play a game in the school field, but only a few kids were allowed. A bunch of kids, including me, were left out. For a couple of days I was bored because the friends I usually played with were playing with the kids in the school field. During those days, I played with some of the other kids in my class I didn’t know very well. I got to know them better, and I even became good friends with one of them! One day, one of the kids who played in the school field invited me to play with them. I asked her if my new friend could play too. She said my friend wasn’t allowed. I told her I couldn’t play with them. At recess I played with my new friend. I felt good inside, and I knew I had made the right choice.

Elder Andersen also told a story of a boy named Joshua who reached out to another child at church.
When Joseph, a boy from Uganda, went to church for the first time, he didn’t have any family there to help him know where to go. Then the missionaries introduced him to Joshua.
Joshua told Joseph he would be his friend. He gave Joseph a songbook for Primary, and he sat next to him. Then the Primary class sang “I Am a Child of God” to Joseph. Everyone made Joseph feel very special, especially his new friend, Joshua. When they were older, Joshua and Joseph served as missionary companions!

I was trying to be like Jesus when I was at my friend’s house. She was sad because her older sister had been mean. I used the example of Jesus to teach her not to be mean back to her sister. It made her feel better.

Mommy stopped at Austin’s bedroom door. She looked around the messy room. There were books, trucks, puzzles, blocks, and stuffed animals scattered all over. Mommy stepped over the clutter and into the room. “Austin, did you make this mess?”
Austin looked up from his stack of blocks. “Not me, Mommy.”
“Then who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She knelt down next to a large dump truck. “Dump truck, did you make this mess?”
“Mommy!” Austin giggled. “Dump trucks can’t make a mess. Trucks can’t even talk. But I can.” He snatched up his truck. “Brrrm. Brrrm.” Austin drove the truck into the toy box.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She scooped up a handful of puzzle pieces. “Puzzle, did you make this mess?”
Austin said, “Puzzles can’t make a mess. Puzzles don’t have fingers to use. But I do. I can pick the pieces up like this.” Austin dumped all the puzzle pieces into their box on the shelf.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She stood up and leaned over the bookcase. “Books, did you make this mess?”
Austin rolled his eyes. “Books can’t make a mess. Books can’t even jump from high places. But I can.” Austin climbed onto a chair and jumped into Mommy’s arms. She put him down. Austin bent over and picked up some books. He climbed back onto the chair and set the books on the shelf.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She gathered together three teddy bears. “Teddy bears, did you make this mess?”
“Teddy bears can’t make a mess,” Austin said. “Teddy bears can’t even turn somersaults. But I can.” Austin crouched low, tucked his head under, and flipped over. He stood up, gathered the bears in his arms, and laid them on the windowsill.
“Who made this mess?” Mommy asked. She picked up a stuffed lion. “Lion, did you make this mess?”
Austin said, “The lion can’t make a mess. The lion can’t even give hugs. But I can.” Austin gave Mommy a hug. He took the lion and gently placed it on the bed.
“Know what, Mommy?” Austin said. “Toys can’t make a mess, but I can. I made this mess.”
Mommy leaned over and gave Austin another hug. “Austin, you made this mess. But you cleaned it up, too. You are my big helper.”
Mommy’s face grew serious. “You did something besides making a mess, Austin. You told Mommy a lie. But you cleaned that up, too, by telling the truth. Toys can’t tell the truth. But you can.”
Austin smiled. Being a big helper felt good. Being a truth-teller felt even better.

The elementary and high school secretaries from my schools both turned out to be members of the Church too. I thought it was cool that of all the students they dealt with every day, they still remembered me.
The secretaries who remembered me helped me to know that I am important. I learned that I am a daughter of God and that He knows me personally and loves me.

I liked the story “Buckets of Mud” (June 2016). We get a lot of rain where we live. Some people’s houses got flooded, so my dad went to help. There was an age limit, so I couldn’t go with him, but if it happens again, I want to help!

Bing! As Kiconco B. sat in her home in Georgia, USA, another picture came into her mom’s inbox. It was from Kiconco’s uncle who was working in Uganda, the country where Kiconco had been born 12 years earlier. Kiconco expected to see the pictures and texts that her uncle sent every Sunday, but what she didn’t expect was the impact this picture would have on her and her summer.
In the picture, a group of children were huddled together. Normally, Kiconco and her mom looked at the pictures and then deleted them, but this time, the Spirit inspired them not to. Kiconco looked at the children more closely. “They were wearing clothing that was ripped and didn’t fit them properly,” Kiconco, now 13, says. “They were wearing rags,” Kiconco’s mom adds.
Kiconco was especially drawn to the two girls in the picture. She asked her uncle about them and found out that they were sisters being raised by their widowed grandmother, Nuliati. Her uncle then sent another picture of the two girls with their grandmother in front of their home, which had dirt floors and grass for a roof. Kiconco’s mom says, “They were standing right in front of their little house that was so beat up.” When the rainy season hit Uganda, their home would turn into a mud puddle. This made it hard for the family to cook because they couldn’t light a fire. It also made it difficult to sleep because there wasn’t a dry place to lie down.
This picture touched Kiconco. She told her mom, “I’m going to help this family.” At first Kiconco decided she was going to send her clothes to the two girls in the picture. But then she says, “I decided to think bigger and brainstormed with my mom. Sending clothes wasn’t enough. It would help them more just to have a house. They had clothes. They just needed a house more.” And so Kiconco decided to raise money to give them a home.
When Nuliati heard that Kiconco was going to help them get a house, she fell to her knees and cried. She had been praying that God would help her. Kiconco’s mom says, “She got to the point that she suffered so much that she thought God didn’t know she existed.” But God had been listening to Nuliati’s prayers, and they were answered in a unique way.
Kiconco knew she would have to raise money to help give the family a home. She decided to complete small projects and to send the money to her uncle in Uganda, who had found a contractor to build the house. It would take a lot of time and energy, but Kiconco went to work. She says, “When you help people and serve them, it makes you feel good. And it makes them happy—and everyone around you.”
She babysat, made and sold bread, watched people’s dogs, and painted fingernails. Every day, Kiconco tried to find projects so she could continue to raise enough money to build the house. She packed and moved boxes, cleared poison ivy, harvested corn, and washed decks. Little by little Kiconco made progress toward her goal. As she earned money, she sent it to her uncle so that the contractor could start building Nuliati’s home.
Raising money was hard work, and every now and then, Kiconco was worn out. “Sometimes I didn’t want to work anymore. I just wanted to stay home,” she says. Kiconco’s mom adds, “She really was sacrificing her whole summer.” But on those days, Kiconco felt God helping her move forward.
Kiconco’s mom started a GoFundMe page and posted about Kiconco’s project on social media. A stranger from Chicago saw the post and told her grandson about it. He donated the money he earned from mowing grass. One of Kiconco’s school teachers told her Sunday School class about Kiconco’s goal. The members were so touched that they donated money. One of Kiconco’s friends also told her grandmother about it. Her grandmother told the members of her church, who were so happy to hear about it that they also donated money. A woman from Kiconco’s ward also sewed a quilt and sold it to raise money for the family. Kiconco’s friends and family donated to the cause too. Overall, 35 people donated money to Kiconco’s project.
When Kiconco started receiving help from others, she said, “Wow! This could actually work!” From the support of others, Kiconco gained an extra boost of energy and found more work. Finally, after many hours of hard work, Kiconco had raised enough money to finish building Nuliati’s home.
The week before Nuliati and her granddaughters moved into their new home, it rained every single day and night, and the little grass roof the family slept under didn’t keep out the water. Their new home had a tin roof and cement floors. Here, they could sleep and cook during the rainy season.
Even though the home was finished, Kiconco knew the family didn’t have any furniture. In fact, they had never owned beds or even blankets. Kiconco wanted to help but didn’t know what else to do, because they had sent all of the money they had raised, and there weren’t any more jobs for them to do to raise money. Then Kiconco told her mom, “I think you might need to take the money from my savings account and go and buy them three beds so they don’t have to sleep on the cold cement floor.”
The next morning, Kiconco’s mom prepared to go to the bank but felt she should wait for the mail to come before she went. When the mail finally came, to Kiconco’s surprise, she found two envelopes that each had a check donating to the project. Kiconco’s mom says, “We opened the mail, looked at each other, and laughed. We almost did a dance!” Now, Kiconco had just enough money to buy furniture for the family. She says, “I knew God was helping me.”
Kiconco immediately sent the money to her uncle, who bought the family three beds, blankets, a table, and chairs.
When the truck pulled up with the furniture, the family was so happy and grateful. Kiconco’s mom says, “Even after they moved in, they felt like it was a dream. They were just amazed at the whole thing.”
Kiconco says, “It made me happy to finally look at the family’s home and to look back at what I had done. It was awesome!” To other youth who want to help others, she says, “Just have faith. You can do anything if you believe you can.”
Kiconco’s mom adds, “It really strengthened our faith because we never got stuck in any stage of building the house. Every time we ran out of funds, something big would happen.”
Nuliati and her two granddaughters still walk barefoot and don’t have electricity. But when they walk home in the drenching Uganda rains, they can dry off, cook a meal, and rest. Kiconco says the most important thing she learned was that “when we serve others, we are serving God.” Kiconco’s small and simple projects came together to bless a family.

Andrea could see the large granite pillar from the van window before she and her Primary class pulled into the parking lot. Sister Birchall had told them that the monument was 38 1/2 feet tall, one foot for every year of Joseph Smith’s life.
Andrea’s friend Becky squirmed excitedly on the seat next to her. “We’ll really get to be where Joseph Smith was born!” Becky said.
Andrea had been looking forward to this Primary activity since Sister Birchall had announced their class was visiting Sharon, Vermont, just a short drive away. Andrea had prayed that she would feel the Holy Ghost here. She wanted to have a spiritual experience like the people who bore their testimonies at church. The scriptures say that if you ask in faith, Heavenly Father will bless you. Andrea believed that was true.
A light rain was falling when the class pulled into the parking lot. A senior sister missionary was waiting for them.
“Hello!” she called. “I’m sorry that we don’t have the music playing through the trees for you right now. We usually do, but we turned it off because of the rain. Maybe you can hear it before you leave.”
Andrea liked the missionary, whose black name tag read Sister Grant. She reminded Andrea of her grandma. Sister Grant and Elder Grant told the class stories about Joseph Smith and showed them where he was born. After the tour, the missionaries let them look around the museum.
“Andrea, come see this!” Becky called. She was pointing at a painting of Lucy Mack Smith.
Elder Grant walked up behind the girls. “She was a great woman. Even before Joseph had the First Vision, she and her family were close to the Holy Ghost. They often liked to go out into the woods to think and pray.”
Andrea remembered her goal to feel the Spirit today. When people at church said they felt the Holy Ghost they usually cried. Andrea hadn’t felt like crying even a little today.
Sister Birchall walked in and told them they would be leaving in half an hour. “The rain has stopped, so you can go look at the monument now.”
Andrea looked over at Becky, who was talking to another girl from their class. This was Andrea’s chance.
She left as quickly as she could and walked toward the woods behind the monument. To the left, Andrea saw a small clearing. “Perfect,” she thought.
She walked into the middle of the weeds and knelt down, placing her coat under her knees so they would not get wet. “Maybe I’m in the same place that Lucy went to think and pray,” she thought.
Andrea closed her eyes and again prayed for the Holy Ghost to be with her. She didn’t feel anything. Andrea was confused. Why wasn’t she crying? Disappointed, she got up and walked out of the clearing. There was a small dirt road behind the monument. Andrea decided she had enough time to walk down it a little way. As she walked through the tall trees, Andrea noticed that there was a peaceful feeling in these woods—quiet and calm like a chapel. The air smelled fresh and clean from the rain, and everything was a bright, clear green. She also noticed that the sun had come out from behind the clouds and was reflecting off the wet leaves and pine needles in bright glints of light. She added a happy skip to her walk.
A little bubble of happiness was growing inside Andrea, and became so big that she thought she would burst with joy. She wanted to start singing and laughing at the same time.
She didn’t go too far into the woods before she turned around. As she walked back, she began to hear the sound of an orchestra and choir singing through the trees—probably the music Sister Grant had mentioned. It sounded like the song of angels, pure and sweet. Andrea stopped to listen to the words. “When thru the woods and forest glades I wander,” the choir sang. “Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee, How great thou art!”* The words described exactly how Andrea felt—like her soul was singing. She felt happy! Except for one thing. She still hadn’t felt the Spirit.
Becky spied Andrea as soon as Andrea got back to the monument. “Come see the sunspot!” she said excitedly. Andrea didn’t know what Becky was talking about, but she let Becky pull her up the hill.
From the top of the granite pillar shone a dazzling light. Andrea put her hands up to shield her eyes.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Becky said. “Sister Grant says that it’s the sun shining off the top of the polished rock.”
“It’s beautiful,” Andrea said. She stood in awe for several minutes. She felt a little sad. “This would have been the perfect trip if only I had felt the Holy Ghost,” she thought.
Suddenly, like the light reflecting off the pillar, a thought shone into her soul. She had felt the Spirit! The Holy Ghost didn’t just make people cry. It also made them feel peaceful and happy, like she had felt in the forest! Andrea again felt the same bubble of joy growing inside. She then understood that Heavenly Father had answered her prayers.
As they drove away, Andrea kept her eyes on the granite monument until it disappeared behind the tops of the trees. She knew that the Lord had blessed her and given her the witness she desired.

e. Eliza R. Snow was among those who left Nauvoo in 1846. She led an ox team to Winter Quarters, and the difficulties of that journey made her very ill, even close to death. She managed to recover, and throughout her life she wrote many hymns, including this one, urging the Saints to have faith amid their hardships.

—“My missions have been by [the] Spirit of revelation. I was told to go to the Fox Islands [off the coast of northeastern U.S.] by that same still small voice. In the time of the great apostasy in Kirtland the Spirit of the Lord said to me, ‘Get you a partner and go to Fox Islands.’ I knew no more what was in Fox Islands than what was in Kolob. I went there, however, baptized a hundred.”

The story is told of a man on death row who was approached by the warden on the night before his scheduled execution. “What would you like for your last meal?” the warden asked.
After a moment’s thought, the condemned man replied, “I’d like a big plate of cooked mushrooms. Until now, I haven’t dared eat any!”

Not only will elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies take the primary role in moving forward the work of salvation, but they will also be much more involved in ministering to, counselling with and helping men and women with their personal problems and challenges. For too long, members have gone to the bishop with every problem they have, but those best equipped to help them are the elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies. Let me give you an example of an elders quorum president who understood his responsibility to minister, to teach and to help each member.
On February 11, 2017, I attended a priesthood meeting in New Delhi, India. As the quorum meeting started, the quorum president stood before his quorum and wrote on the white board: “Shepherd’s List,” and then listed the names of four quorum members having employment challenges. He explained the difficulties that were faced by these families and asked whether anyone knew of employment opportunities for these four brethren. Immediately, hands went up, and different brothers said things like, “My company is hiring. I know that he has the skills needed. I can introduce him to the right people for an interview.” This went on for each brother facing difficulty, and employment opportunities were identified for each one.
Truly, this quorum president ministered to these brethren and their families. When his quorum members had a problem, he took it to the quorum to find help. He took the initiative and, in a kind and loving way, engaged the quorum to help each one who was in need. The power of working through the quorum to solve individual needs was evident, and there was a true spirit of love for each other. This quorum ministered to the needs of its members, and lives were blessed.

Randy Bronson lives near the Payson Utah Temple and has spent years doing family history research. “But I have a less-active son, and I’m not always sure what I can do for him. So I don’t just put his name on the prayer rolls, but I pray earnestly in the temple, trying to find out what I can do for him. I get inklings of what I can say or do for him.”