Gospel Story Finder

Brother Soliai and his family were the only Latter-day Saints in their little village of Nuuuli on Tutuila. On one occasion, he asked Opapo to come bless his children, his house, his property, and his friends. Present on that occasion was a wealthy nonmember widow, Salataima Puailoa, who was deeply troubled because her husband’s family was taking steps to deprive her of the land she had inherited from him. Impressed by the blessings, she requested one herself; but Opapo was reluctant because she was not a member.
She investigated the Church and was baptized, then came to him again and requested the blessing. In it, Opapo promised that she would receive the land without any hindrance from her husband’s relatives and that she would, if she were faithful, be an instrument in the Lord’s hands to further the work of the Church in American Samoa.
In the early 1950’s, that blessing was fulfilled. The Church purchased some of her property and on it built a high school, faculty housing, a large welfare farm, and a stake center.

The first principle that I will share is to enthusiastically and righteously continue your quest for knowledge. One of my heroes in this category is Paul Cox, an active member of the Church. He received a bachelor of science degree from Brigham Young University in botany and earned other post-graduate degrees. He served a mission in Samoa and later lived with his family in Savai‘i, Samoa, for many years. One of his focuses was ethnomedicine, in which he studied some of the plants that had been used by generations of Samoan mothers to treat health issues. With a coauthor, he wrote Plants, People, and Culture: The Science of Ethnobotany.3

He has made several breakthroughs in treating diseases. While he has done many things in his exceptional career, the one I wish to mention occurred many years ago. Paul and a Samoan chief, Fuiono Senio, conducted ethnobotanical research in the village of Falealupo, Western Samoa.

An account in BYU Magazine reported: “The village had reluctantly licensed its forest to a logging company to raise funds to build a school, because, says Cox, ‘They felt they had to choose between their children and their forest, which was a terrible, terrible decision for them.’ When he learned of the transaction with the logging company, Cox told the chiefs he would personally pay to build the school if they could stop the logging” of the rain forest.4

He did build the school with the help of businessmen who had connections with Samoa.5 Brother Cox has received many honors and awards, including the Goldman Environmental Prize for grassroots environmental heroes. He represents a continuing quest for knowledge to bless mankind. This account exemplifies the love of learning and the synergism of knowledge.

Michelle was born with VACTERL association with hydrocephalus. “This means she has a lot of health problems,” say her parents. “But when Michelle hears there is something to be done, she will find a way.”
When President Nelson asked the youth to help gather Israel in 2018, Michelle T. of Oregon, USA, paid close attention.1
Then she decided to answer the challenge.
Almost immediately, however, she faced obstacles. Michelle wanted to get started with indexing, yet even with her membership number handy, she couldn’t sign up. Not with her parents’ help, and not with her grandparents’ help (and they are very big family history pros!).
Even after going into the nearby family history center, things still weren’t working. This, by the way, is highly unusual! Normally it’s a fairly straightforward process. When the volunteers at the family history center finally got Michelle up and running, they looked at her and said, “You must be meant for great things in family history, because you’re facing a lot of opposition right from the start!”
She has indeed gone on to great things in family history. In fact, a video she shared during RootsTech 2021 ended up being the #1 watched video from the conference. She has an inspiring story to tell! And it’s only gotten more inspiring since then.
Michelle can’t speak, so she uses text on her phone to communicate.
At first, Michelle decided to do a batch or two of names each Sunday evening. She joined a video call with her grandparents so that they could help teach her the ropes.
“It was hard!” she says. “Cursive is hard!”
However, she was not going to be intimidated. Michelle kept at it. As she started learning more and getting better, she decided to set a goal for indexing 1,000 names in 2019.
After hitting that goal, she set a much more ambitious goal for 2020—especially after the pandemic hit and she had more time available. She was soon indexing as many as 1,000 names each month!
As she kept indexing, bit by bit Michelle began noticing something interesting in her life—things were just simply getting better.
“I started noticing differences in my life,” says Michelle. “I felt healthier. I was kinder to my family. I felt calmer and more peaceful. I was happier! I wanted to do more good things. I felt the Spirit so much stronger! Indexing wasn’t just helping me, it was helping others.”
Michelle enjoys sewing and baking for her family. “It’s so fun to see them enjoy all the things I help create,” she says.
One of the other good things that began happening was an increased ability to focus on her other spiritual goals. “I was reading the scriptures more, especially the Book of Mormon,” Michelle says. “I also started studying my Sunday church lessons each week before class so I could be prepared for the discussions. Learning about my family history has become very important to me along with visiting the temple.”
I began to feel so much peace.
Life can be hectic. Lots of stuff can get in the way! But Michelle has learned the blessings that come from carving out enough time to do family history work. “When I started indexing, I began to feel so much peace,” she explains. “Then my family started noticing the peace I felt and it started flowing into the rest of my family. Our whole home just felt more calm and peaceful, and it is amazing. Jesus Christ is the source of peace. By doing the work that I have been called to do, I received a blessing of peace, the type of peace only the Savior can give. The best part is being able to share that blessing with others.”
Michelle loves teaching others how to do family history.
Clearly, Michelle has felt the blessings firsthand of how indexing blesses her life. She also has a testimony of how her efforts can also bless many other lives on both sides of the veil.
One experience she likes to share to teach this point is that her grandmother had been looking for a specific ancestor for a long time, without any luck. Then a few years back, somebody indexed the name of this family member. That’s all it took for Michelle’s grandmother to be able to find this ancestor at last!
“That story really motivates me,” Michelle says. Small steps connect many dots and bless many lives.

In 1907 a wealthy Englishman named George Herbert, the fifth Earl of Carnarvon, moved to Egypt and took up an interest in archaeology. He approached a well-known Egyptologist, Howard Carter, and proposed a partnership. Carter would oversee their archaeological excavations, and Carnarvon would provide the funding.
Together they successfully explored a variety of locations. Then they received permission to excavate in the Valley of the Kings, located near modern-day Luxor, where the tombs of many pharaohs had been found. They decided to look for the tomb of King Tutankhamun. Tutankhamun had ascended to the throne of Egypt more than 3,000 years earlier and reigned for 10 years before his unexpected death. He was known to have been buried in the Valley of the Kings, but the location of his tomb was unknown.
Carter and Carnarvon spent five years unsuccessfully searching for Tutankhamun’s tomb. Eventually Carnarvon informed Carter that he was finished with the fruitless quest. Carter pleaded for just one more season of excavation, and Carnarvon relented and agreed to the funding.
Carter realized that the entire floor of the Valley of the Kings had been methodically excavated—except the area of their own base camp. Within a few days of digging there, they found the first steps leading down to the tomb.
When Carter eventually peered into the antechamber of Tutankhamun’s tomb, he saw gold everywhere. After three months of cataloging the contents of the antechamber, they opened the sealed burial chamber in February 1923—100 years ago. This was the most famous archaeological find of the 20th century.
During those years of ineffectual searching, Carter and Carnarvon had overlooked what was literally under their feet. Some five centuries before the Savior’s birth, the Book of Mormon prophet Jacob referred to taking for granted or undervaluing what is nearby as “looking beyond the mark.” Jacob foresaw that the people of Jerusalem would not recognize the promised Messiah when He came. Jacob prophesied that they would be a “people [who] despised the words of plainness … and [would seek] for things that they could not understand. Wherefore, because of their blindness, which blindness [would come] by looking beyond the mark, they must needs fall.” In other words, they would stumble.
After Carter and Carnarvon excavated elsewhere in the Valley of the Kings looking for Tutankhamun’s tomb, they realized their oversight. We do not need to labor unsuccessfully, as they did for a time, to find our treasure. Nor need we seek counsel from exotic sources, prizing the novelty of the source and thinking such counsel will be more enlightened than that which we can receive from a humble prophet of God.

The call came that comes to every missionary now and again. I was serving in California, and it was time for me to transfer to a new area. As soon as I met my new companion, Elder Wilding, he hurried us out of the door. He was not one to waste time when there were so many people waiting to hear the gospel.
Elder Wilding said we had an appointment to teach a first discussion later that day. As we were out contacting people, he told me about the man we would be teaching.
His name was Ray, and he had a habit of walking the streets at night. It wasn’t because he liked walking or taking in the night air. It was because Ray had fallen on hard times, and the downtown streets were the closest thing to someplace he could call home.
Elder Wilding and his previous companion ran into Ray on their way home one night. They had talked briefly with him about the Church and the Book of Mormon. They had asked if he would like a copy of the book and if they could come back and teach him more. Ray had accepted the book and said he would meet them at the corner bookstore the next day.
I took all this in but was stuck on the part about Ray living on the streets. I was picturing in my mind a man with a scraggly gray beard, wearing a faded trench coat, and begging for money to buy a drink. I couldn’t see how we could do anything for this man from the streets.
We reached the bookstore and went in. The two levels of the store were filled with row after row of books. Upstairs were some tables and chairs where people could sit and read. It looked more like a library than a bookstore. We passed several people wandering around as we headed upstairs. When we got there, Elder Wilding went over to a man sitting at a table reading a book. The man looked no different from the other people in the bookstore. And at first I was wondering who he was. Then I noticed the book the man was reading. It was the Book of Mormon.
Ray was nothing like the man I had been expecting. He was a middle-aged guy who had just had a streak of bad luck. Some people who have lost their jobs, their home, and everything they have turn bitter at the world and expect others to solve their problems. But there was something different about Ray. He wasn’t about to wait for someone to come along with a handout. When he couldn’t find a job that paid him enough to survive, he took two jobs. Although his pay was scarcely above minimum wage, he was determined to get himself off the street as soon as possible.
You would have thought after seeing Ray that my heart would have softened, but I was still skeptical. However, as we taught Ray about Jesus Christ and told him about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, he was genuinely interested in what we had to say. He told us to meet him again in two days’ time.
Soon we were teaching Ray regularly, meeting in many different places. I would have to say the most interesting place was in a coffee house. It was at this meeting that we were to teach Ray about the Word of Wisdom. I didn’t miss the irony that we were going to commit Ray to stop drinking coffee in a place where he was surrounded by the stuff.
Ray was waiting for us. I groaned inwardly when I saw the cup of coffee sitting next to him. He sipped his coffee while we taught. I wondered if he would laugh at us when we asked him to stop drinking coffee.
The time came, and we asked Ray if he would live the Word of Wisdom. I braced myself for his reaction. He didn’t hesitate. He looked around and said, “I guess we’ll want to meet somewhere else next time.” He told us that there was a little Mexican restaurant a few blocks away. He was friends with the owner. They had a balcony in the back used for large groups, and he thought the owners would let us meet there.
Ray gained a testimony and was baptized and confirmed. A Church member in his new ward offered him a spare room he could rent. Ray thanked the Lord for getting him off the streets and back on his feet. He said it was not until the Church and the gospel came into his life that things started coming back together for him.
My heart had finally been softened, and my eyes were opened to see the Lord’s hand in Ray’s life. I was humbled to learn that Heavenly Father is mindful of all His children and sees the great potential in each and every one of us—even when we can’t see it ourselves.

It was World War II, and in a crowded ship in the Pacific Ocean 3,000 soldiers sat listening to the chaplain. Tomorrow they would attack an enemy-held island, and the chances of many of them surviving the battle were slim. “One-half of you will be standing before your Maker tomorrow morning at 8:00,” the minister said seriously. “Are you ready?”
The next day the first six groups to approach the island were completely blown out of the water. Paul H. Dunn, in the seventh group, miraculously reached safety. He recounts his feelings: “I crawled ashore … dug a small foxhole … knelt down with my head bared … and asked my Heavenly Father very simply, ‘Do you live? Are you real? Is Jesus Christ really my Savior? Was Joseph Smith a prophet of the Church like I’ve heard all my life and can’t quite understand?’ And then it came, that sweet inner commitment and verification, spirit touching spirit, saying in a silent voice, ‘It is so.’” (P. 135.)
In You and Your World, Elder Dunn, member of the Presidency of the First Quorum of the Seventy, relates this story and many others, as he counsels Church members in five areas: Building Commitment, Strengthening the Home, Gathering Souls, Refining a Testimony, and Mastering Self. A selection of 24 addresses given by Elder Dunn, the book is a compilation of scripture, poetry, stories, and spiritual experiences that discusses gospel principles in an uplifting and inspiring manner.

When I was a child in Scotland, I was also looking for hope. We were a poor, little family—my mother and four children, of which I was the oldest. After my parents’ divorce when I was five, there came a stepfather who was not a good man. We hadn’t experienced much love at home. My mother cleaned houses to make ends meet. Life was tough.
When I was 10, I went to a gospel mission hall. The teacher was without question a disciple of Jesus Christ. One Sunday he taught us about Zaccheus. The Savior visited Zaccheus at home, and Zaccheus became a changed man. He said that he gave away half of his goods to the poor and that if he had wronged any man, he gave back four times as much as he had taken. Jesus said salvation had come to the house of Zaccheus, “for the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10). Although I was young, I found myself wondering if salvation could come to my home. Did Jesus know me? If I was lost, could He find me?
Then when I was 12, Latter-day Saint missionaries started visiting us. Whenever they were in our home, we felt a sense of peace and sheer goodness. Those were unusual feelings for us at that time. I wanted those feelings in my life all of the time, not just when the elders were with us.
I started to believe that salvation could come to our home. The missionaries helped me understand that Heavenly Father knows each of us individually. They explained that He is so anxious to bless us that He sent His Son to save us. I felt that the Savior had found us. I embraced the gospel with gratitude and was baptized a month before my 13th birthday. I received the Aaronic Priesthood and started to pass the sacrament, which seemed like a great honor, knowing that the first sacrament was blessed and passed by Jesus Himself.
I felt as though our family expanded to include the entire ward. We were immediately given opportunities to serve, and it was a wonderful feeling. Through my early Church life I gained hope. There were better days ahead. It was possible to feel a sense of belonging. We were important to Heavenly Father.
Our life didn’t suddenly change. We still had difficulties—of course we did. My mother married another bad man, an alcoholic, so there were still hard days and harsh times. But I now had an entirely different sense about the future. The gospel allowed me to rise above my challenges and feel abiding peace.
I couldn’t do anything about the family circumstances of my youth—alcoholism, poverty, and divorce. But when I was 15, I made a major decision: “I will change the future—for myself and for the children I will someday have. My unhappy family history will not be passed on.” I felt the Holy Ghost prompting me to build a good life.
As young people, we go through all kinds of situations. Mine were quite dramatic and might not apply to everyone. But there will be something that affects each person deeply. Bad things can happen to good people. You may feel a quiet desperation, or you may feel that your life looks bleak.
The good news is that you get to shape your future. Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever your condition may be, you can have a happy and fulfilled life if you stay close to the gospel and place your faith in Jesus Christ. In Gethsemane He experienced total agony—mental, spiritual, physical, and emotional—all of that piled on top of Him. I can’t describe it because it is indescribable, but He did it. And because of what He endured, He understands when we’re suffering, anxious, hurt, afraid, sick, injured, or abused. He understands everything. He will help you.
In many dark midnight hours, during my teenage years and also later in life, there have been times when I have felt as though I were weeping at the Savior’s feet, pleading for a blessing. Figuratively I have felt Him leaning down, picking me up, putting His arms around me, and blessing me with love. And this I know: as His disciple you are entitled to His help and He will turn everything to your good. That is the hope of the gospel.

Dear New Era:
After reading about keeping a journal in the FYI section, I decided to make writing in my journal every day a goal. I started out slow but steady, and within a few weeks it became a habit. And do you know what? Just yesterday, I filled the last page in my journal. If it wasn’t for the magazine, my journal would still be full of empty pages. I can’t wait to start my next journal.
Thanks so much!
Nancy FowlerCheyenne, Wyoming

The July morning was already hot when Jennie walked to the barn to feed Skipper. When she opened the barn door, he whinnied noisily and stamped his hooves impatiently. Jennie put his grain into a pail and took it into his stall, then filled his manger with sweet-smelling hay. She took his water bucket outside to clean and fill it and noticed that the warm summer air was very still. There wasn’t even a hint of a cooling breeze.
It’s going to be too hot again to go riding, she thought. The past several weeks had been much warmer than usual, and not a drop of rain had fallen. The fields were so dry that they made crunching sounds underfoot.
After giving Skipper his fresh water, Jennie walked up through the meadow and the old apple orchard to the edge of the woods where Grumpy, the fat woodchuck, had made his burrow. Sometimes he would come out and nibble at the clover while she watched, and occasionally he came close enough to snatch a carrot from her hand. If she moved too quickly, he would sit up and chatter as though he were scolding her for interrupting his meal. But this morning he was nowhere in sight. Except for a squeaking chipmunk dashing along the old stone wall, everything was quiet. Not even the birds were twittering in the woods. It almost seemed that all the wild creatures that usually scurried around the farm had gone away.
Jennie walked back to the barn and opened the door to Skipper’s stall. He nudged her with his soft nose, then cantered out of the barn with a clatter of hooves and headed for the far end of the field, where he could graze in the shade of the old apple trees.
Seeing her mother headed for the vegetable garden, Jennie ran to join her. The peas and beans were ready for picking, and some of the tomatoes were turning red.
“Are you going to ride over to Marie’s today?” Mother asked.
“No, it’s still too hot. I let Skipper out in the meadow, it’s cooler for him there.”
For half an hour they worked at filling a basket with plump green peas. Now and then Jennie would open a pod and eat the sweet sun-warmed peas. When the basket was brimming, they started back to the house. Suddenly her mother said, “What’s the matter with Skipper?”
At the far end of the meadow, Skipper was galloping back and forth, sometimes pausing to gaze into the woods. He gave a loud, shrill whinny, then raced toward the barn. When he saw Jennie and her mother approaching the fence, he ran to them, snorted, then dashed frantically back across the meadow, stopping at the stone wall to paw the ground.
“He acts as though something is frightening him,” Jennie’s mother said. “Do you suppose there’s a bobcat up there?”
As she spoke, Skipper galloped back to where they stood at the fence. He nickered and nudged Jennie’s shoulder in the direction of the woods. He seemed to be asking her to go with him. Then he was gone again to the end of the field, where he pranced and reared near the edge of the woods. Normally Skipper was quiet and gentle, but now he was acting like a wild horse.
Jennie’s big brother, Tim, joined them at the fence. “Something sure is upsetting Skipper,” he said. “Better stay here, Jen, until I find out what’s the matter.” As Tim climbed over the fence and headed into the field, he thought that he detected a wisp of smoke.
Skipper saw Tim and raced toward him, whinnying loudly. He skidded to a stop, nudged Tim, then galloped back to the edge of the woods where he stood shaking his head and tossing his mane. Jennie and her mother waited and watched.
Tim reached the horse, climbed over the stone wall, and disappeared into the woods. A moment later he came pelting back, shouting, “Call the fire department! There’s a big brushfire just beyond the edge of the woods, and it’s burning this way! It could destroy everything! That’s what Skipper has been trying to tell us.”
Soon two fire trucks came roaring up the road, their sirens wailing. Close behind them were two forest-service trucks with large water tanks.
All the long day Jennie stayed close to the house, wondering what was happening in the woods. Twice the forest-service trucks returned to fill their big tanks at the water hole near the house.
In the late afternoon Tim returned to the house—dirty, hot, and covered with soot.
“Is the fire out?” asked Jennie as she handed him a sandwich and a glass of cold milk.
“Not quite,” replied Tim, “but they have it under control, and they’re digging trenches so that it won’t spread anymore.”
It was nearly dark when the fire trucks rolled out of the woods and turned into the driveway. Jennie and her mother carried platters of sandwiches and jugs of cold water and milk to the tired, soot-begrimed men. The fire chief came over to Jennie and smiled as he said, “Your brother told us that it was your horse that discovered the fire. If it hadn’t been for him, the whole woods might have gone up in flames.”
The next day when Jennie went to pick up the mail, on top of the mailbox was a big bag of carrots with a note that read: “To Skipper, our honorary fireman, from everyone in the fire department.”

Over the nineteen years of our marriage, nine beautiful children have blessed our home, along with many financial and occupational disappointments for my husband Craig, failing health for me, and increasing responsibilities outside the home competing for our limited time. During the years, as the stress increased, I found myself saying or thinking, “Maybe we aren’t really right for each other.”
I had also noticed that when Craig and I got a night out together, we really didn’t have much in common. For instance, he’d want to see a movie, and I’d want to go to the temple. He’d want to watch a soccer game or something like that, and I’d want to go to a dance or a concert.
I must have expressed my frustration, because one day Craig found himself repeating my statement, “Maybe we aren’t really right for each other.” Hearing himself say this out loud bothered him, for he spent the next few days praying and fasting about our marriage relationship and the frustrations we were feeling.
Then one evening he said, “You and I are like the basic colors—red, yellow, and blue. Between the two of us we have everything necessary to make a successful marriage and an eternal family. Together, we lack nothing. Just as it takes all three basic colors to make all the other colors, you and I, with Heavenly Father’s help, have the ability to blend our qualities to make a happy, eternal marriage.”
As I thought about that, I saw our differences from a new perspective. In our family, Craig is the one who radiates love. I’ve sometimes been jealous of that ability because I wanted to do that, too. I have a lot of love in me, but my love doesn’t always seem to come out graciously. Once, when I told Craig that I felt sad about not being able to express my love well, he replied, “But you bring spirituality into our family. You love to read the scriptures and listen to general conference, and you’re always eager to share what you have learned.” Suddenly I realized that Craig and I were helping each other and our children: he showed me how to give love, and I shared with him what I had learned from the scriptures and prophets.
Now, when I get caught up in my daily work, I appreciate Craig’s encouragement to stop and relax with him. And when I find him doing more than he should when he helps our children with their chores, he appreciates my encouragement to become a better delegator and let them do more. We are also learning how much joy there is in taking turns: sometimes watching television together for him, and sometimes reading books aloud together for me.
We have discovered that we really do have a lot in common. We both dislike grocery shopping, for instance. But, more important, we have found that we both like long walks, our children, church, a clean house, fresh bread, and—each other! I like to talk; he likes to listen. I am consistent, persistent, dependable, and determined; he is kind, tolerant, patient, and unwavering. We are both honest, loyal, committed, and united in our eternal goal of reaching exaltation.
As I sat in the celestial room of the temple early one morning, I thought that he and I are like the crystal prisms hanging from the chandelier in that room, receiving the light and transforming it into all the sparkling colors of the rainbow. The love we share blends all of our differences into a beautiful, unfolding eternal relationship.
We have found that when we don’t give in to self-pity, anger, and selfishness, we become united. As long as neither of us ever gives up—he helps me when I begin to fail at something, I help him when he is down—we will continue to create a wonderful marriage.
Together, we have the resources to realize that dream. We have the joint responsibility to make and shape our marriage and family. When we are finished, the masterpiece that we have created will be our prize. We decide how beautiful that masterpiece will be.

Although the afternoon was crisp and cold, inside our house we were warm and snug. In my parents’ room, my three sisters and I were all busily wrapping presents for the Fitzpatricks.* Ever since my early childhood we’d been friends with the Fitzpatricks, and I was always painfully aware of how little the parents and their four children had.
With the gifts in a pile, my sisters and I formed an assembly line wrapping a present and taking it to my mother. After checking the contents of the package, she would decide who would get what, and then sign it “Santa.” She would deposit the gift in a large plastic bag, and we would go to the next one. Using this method we quickly and efficiently finished wrapping the presents in about an hour.
Later that night we all piled into the family van with those plastic bags and headed toward the trailer park where the Fitzpatricks lived. After parking the van, my dad got out, walked to the trailer, and waited at the door. When he was sure no one was home, he unloaded the bags and left them on the porch.
The following Sunday I sat with my family in sacrament meeting. Sitting still and trying to listen was not something I did readily, and soon I became mesmerized by the pictures I was drawing. At one point I glanced up to see Sister Fitzpatrick at the pulpit. But I was only vaguely aware of what she was saying. Suddenly my sister Audrey jabbed me with her elbow and whispered that she was talking about us.
Streaming down her face were tears, and her voice shook as she spoke. She told the congregation how they didn’t have money for Christmas and they weren’t sure what to do. Upon returning that night, they found the bags of presents on their porch. She warmly thanked the gift givers.
The Fitzpatricks never found out who left the Christmas presents for them, although from the pulpit Sister Fitzpatrick said she knew the gifts came from someone in the congregation. Amazingly, tears came to my eyes, and I had to look down to brush them away. That was when I first felt like an angel.

When I was 16 or 17 years old, my father had been out of town and my mother asked me if I could pick him up at the airport. This was before 9/11, so we were allowed to walk out to the gate where the plane docked to meet the passengers. As I was walking down the concourse to meet my father, I noticed that he was talking to an older gentleman in a suit and, as I got closer, I realized it was President Harold B. Lee. In the group I hung out with at that stage of my life, it wasn't very cool to be "churchy," but I wasn't completely clueless, so I knew what President Lee looked like.

I remember having two distinct impressions as I drew closer to them; first, that President Lee was shorter than I thought he was--perhaps seeing him on TV made me think he was larger than life. The second impression was that there was an almost visible spiritual presence that emanated from President Lee. I could not mistake that this man was remarkable, that there was something noble--even holy--about him.

A few years later, as a missionary in the old Language Training Mission at BYU, I watched the solemn assembly session where President Lee was sustained as President of the Church. I was deeply moved as I heard him speak. I learned about 18 months into my mission that he had suddenly passed away. I was shocked and saddened! I hardly knew President Spencer W. Kimball, but I felt that, if I was to testify to those in the mission field that we are led by prophets, I would need to gain a witness of President Kimball's divine calling as I had President Lee's. I prayed fervently for that witness. I can still picture that room in my mind as I prayed, and the strong assurance of the Spirit that President Kimball was the man whom the Lord wanted to lead the Church at that time.

… She couldn’t believe it! She, Kristi Evans, had been chosen as a contestant, and they were already to the final big choice of the show. She’d been so clever and careful and thoughtful and had won so many beautiful gifts. She had so much; how could anything be better? Yet here was the M.C. pointing toward another curtain where a gorgeous girl with a frozen smile gestured gracefully toward the next option. The M.C. was describing with his smooth voice all the joys that would await her if she were willing to give up the things she was certain she had for the things behind that curtain. The audience was shouting a din of advice all around her; she looked down at Nils. He shrugged and said, “It’s up to you.”
The M.C. said, “It’s up to you.”
The gorgeous girl gestured, and her grin dripped ice. Nils shrugged, and the M.C. urged her to hurry. She tried to think, but all that came through was, “It’s up to you.”
Suddenly she was seated beside Nils, the M.C. was signing off until tomorrow, and Kristi felt sick. It was all over and she had lost. Why, why, why had she traded that one last time? Why couldn’t she have realized that she had everything she could ever want or need already? She had had no idea what the curtain concealed; she had known what she had; she could see she was well off already. Why, why …

“I’ll always remember that when I was in high school, Dad and I were President and Sister Kimball’s home teachers. Every time we visited them President Kimball invited me to say the prayer. One day I asked him why he always asked me to say the prayer. Sister Kimball smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry, son, he asks me too.’ Then with a twinkle in his eyes, President Kimball said, ‘I thought you both could use the practice.’

Soweto seminary students know the Lord helps them through the scriptures. Lucky Ndhiela knows his faith spared him a severe beating.
“One day our school teacher was very angry with our class,” says Lucky. “He said he had explained a science principle to us, and the other students said he had not. A still, small voice whispered in my ear, ‘You know it, Lucky—the teacher did teach us that.’
“So I raised my hand and said in front of the whole class, ‘You did teach us that.’ I felt so happy to say it.
“But the whole class shouted, ‘He did NOT!’ The teacher became very angry and started hitting them all, one by one. I sat near the back of the class, and while he was busy punishing the students in front, I bowed my head and began to pray.
“I remembered my scripture mastery, Proverbs 3:5–6 [Prov. 3:5–6], and said to myself, ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
“When the teacher came to my desk, his voice changed. His face changed. He said, ‘Lucky is praying to his God. I forgive him.’ He did not punish me, nor any others that day. That is how I know it is important to apply the scriptures in my life. My prayer was answered!”

When you are away from home and family, prayer can provide the shield of protection you will need. Parting can be hard, particularly when the parent and the child know that they may not see each other for a long time. I had that experience with my father. We parted on a street corner in New York City. He had come there for his work. I was there on my way to another place. We both knew that I probably would never return to live with my parents under the same roof again.
It was a sunny day, around noontime, the streets crowded with cars and pedestrians. On that particular corner there was a traffic light that stopped the cars and the people in all directions for a few minutes. The light changed to red; the cars stopped. The crowd of pedestrians hurried off the curbs, moving every way, including diagonally, across the intersection.
The time had come for parting, and I started across the street. I stopped almost in the center, with people rushing by me. I turned to look back. Instead of moving off in the crowd, my father was still standing on the corner looking at me. To me he seemed lonely and perhaps a little sad. I wanted to go back to him, but I realized the light would change and so I turned and hurried on.
Years later I talked to him about that moment. He told me that I had misread his face. He said he was not sad; he was concerned. He had seen me look back, as if I were a little boy, uncertain and looking for assurance. He told me in those later years that the thought in his mind had been: “Will he be all right? Have I taught him enough? Is he prepared for whatever may lie ahead?”
There were more than thoughts in his mind. I knew from having watched him that he had feelings in his heart. He yearned for me to be protected, to be safe. I had heard and felt that yearning in his prayers, and even more in the prayers of my mother, for all the years I had lived with them. I had learned from that, and I remembered.

When Harold B. Lee was in high school, he joined the debate team.
Harold’s friend: Harold, did you hear? We’re leaving town for a debate tournament!
Harold: When?
Harold’s friend: Next week!
Harold prepared his speeches and packed his suitcase, trying to not be nervous for the tournament. On the day of the tournament, he was ready.
When his turn came to speak, he stood at the podium and did his best. His team won every debate!
Harold: Mother, you’ll never guess what happened—we won!
Harold’s mother: I know all about it. I’ll tell you why when you come home.
Harold returned home, eager to find out how his mother had heard the news.
Harold’s mother: When I knew it was time for your debate to start, I went out among the willows by the creek, and there, all by myself, I prayed to God that you would not fail. And I received assurance that you would not.
Harold learned the strength of his mother’s love and faith. He learned that Heavenly Father answers the prayers of those who love Him, that He helps His children to do their best in all of their activities, and that that is even more important than winning.

Matthew Rancie of Eaglehawk, Victoria, Australia, has a rich LDS heritage, and he is setting an example for his eight younger brothers.
At school, Matthew has been taunted and teased to try to get him to swear, but he refuses to do so. His classmates also tried to bribe him with money to try a cigarette saying, “I suppose you won’t even do it now.” They were right.
Matthew’s father, uncles, and grandfathers have served as bishops, in high councils, in stake presidencies, and in mission presidencies. He has 32 cousins, all active in the Church. As the oldest, he plans to set an example by being the first to serve a mission. In his ward, he serves as pianist for the priesthood.

Let me share a story about how a young woman discovered what it is that allows us to know joy even as we are afflicted, and who it is that makes that joy possible. The students in my Book of Mormon class here at Ricks a few years ago were working on an assignment on the Savior's atonement. They were to study, then teach the doctrine to someone else, and then apply the atonement to their own lives. This had been a stretching, difficult assignment for Heidi. She was in the middle of typing her paper summarizing her findings and describing her own experience when she made her discovery--when her landscape began to thicken with green. She wrote, "I am sitting here typing my paper, but I am having a hard time seeing the words on the page because of the tears. It has just hit me as I have been typing, that the Savior made his atonement for me, that He loves me enough that He would do it for me alone." Heidi found out how the Savior feels about her. That knowledge is where her joy comes from. That joy is the core of her testimony. Everything else is built on that.

On 8 October 2024, 31 young single adults from Papua New Guinea arrived in Tonga to attend the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple for the first time. The group included two full-time missionaries serving in the Papua New Guinea Lae Mission and most of the others have received or are waiting to receive mission calls.
They were warmly welcomed at the airport with traditional candy leis by former Lae mission leaders, Sitiveni and Kilisitina Fehoko (2016–2019), as well as several returned missionaries who served in Papua New Guinea.
After receiving their own endowments, the young adults lovingly performed proxy baptisms, initiatory, and endowments for their grandparents and other ancestors. They finished their temple service with a final sealing session, linking and uniting generations with eternal sealing power.
The young single adults had researched family names in anticipation of doing temple work for their deceased relatives.
In the evenings, they were met by Elder Sione Tuione, an Area Seventy as well as former mission leaders in New Guinea including Isileli and Milika Fatani, (Papua New Guinea Lae Mission 2019–2022), Mosese and Akanesi Naeata (Papua New Guinea Port Moresby Mission 1997–2000), and the Fehokos who offered powerful messages of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and eternal families.
The Fatanis and Fehokos provided delicious Tongan feasts and local wards hosted dances each evening, which the young adults loved.
The young adults also enjoyed an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping. Several of them received dental care at the Church’s dental clinic at Liahona High School.
The hearts of the children turning to their fathers were evident in their words, which they recorded in journals given to each of them.
Channolyn George – “When I saw the temple, the tears dropped from my eyes. I felt heartbroken, thinking back to my country, my province, my ward, the members, my family, my loved ones, and all those not yet members. In my heart and my mind, I hope one day my family and all these people will be here as now I’m here.”
Sonia Maranghi – “I did the endowment for my father’s mother, and I realized that she was very excited that I performed her ordinances, which she longed for. I couldn’t hold my tears anymore and cried while sitting in the celestial glory of the living God.”
Delilah Kum – “The house of the Lord is the temple. When you enter . . . you will feel the Spirit. I know that families can be sealed together for eternity.”
Mathias Inum – “When I came to the temple, I knew that I was there to receive the light of Christ. When I return to Papua New Guinea, I am going to show this light to everyone and be a light to this world.”
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.”
These wonderful young single adults from Papua New Guinea are eagerly waiting to attending the temple again when the Port Moresby Papua New Guinea Temple construction will be complete.