Gospel Story Finder

One day while on a mission in Scotland, David O. McKay was walking around Stirling Castle with his companion, Peter G. Johnson. He said it was at the beginning of his mission, and on that day he had been snubbed while tracting. He was discouraged and homesick. He noticed a building that was half-finished. There was an inscription above the front door, carved in stone, that became a motto for his life: “What E’er Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part” (see CR, October 1954, p. 83).
And so let us find godliness and contentment in what we have and who and where we are at this time in our eternity. Let us add our part the best we can.

Hola! I’m Elena. It’s my first time going to the temple.
A few weeks ago, I met with my bishop. He asked me some questions to help make sure I was ready to go to the temple. (You can read the questions on page 35!) Then he gave me my own temple recommend.
We’re getting ready to go. I get dressed in my Sunday best. I also pack some things to fix my hair after it gets wet. And I make sure I have my recommend. Now we’re off to catch the bus!
There’s the temple! It’s so beautiful.
When I walk inside the temple, I feel peaceful. I show my recommend to the nice temple worker at the front desk. Another temple worker gives me a white jumpsuit. I go to the locker room to change.
Now I wait for my turn to be baptized. When it’s my brother’s turn, I stand by the font to be a witness. I make sure he goes all the way under the water.
It’s my turn now! The water is warm. I’m baptized for several people in a row.
When I get out, a temple worker hands me a towel. I rinse off in the dressing room and change back into my Sunday clothes. When I come out, a temple worker takes me to be confirmed for several people.
My time in the temple was really special! I’m happy I could help others by being baptized and confirmed for them. I can’t wait to come back again soon.

Soon after the march of Zion’s Camp, young Wilford began his great missionary career by serving in the southern United States, Canada, and the northeastern United States. As a missionary, he often experienced the guidance of the Spirit. At the time of his departure from the mission field, as he was helping groups of converts gather to Zion, he wrote:
“After spending two years and a half in New England and Canada, getting the Saints out, I started back with the last lot, about a hundred from Boston. We landed in Pittsburgh at dusk. We were anxious not to stay there, but to go on to St. Louis. I saw a steamer making steam ready to go out. I went to the captain and asked him how many passengers he had. ‘Three hundred and fifty.’ ‘Could you take another hundred?’ ‘Yes.’ The Spirit said to me, ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, you nor your company.’ All right, said I. I had learned something about that still, small voice. I did not go aboard that steamer, but waited till the next morning. In thirty minutes after that steamer left, it took fire. It had ropes instead of wheel chains, and they could not go ashore. It was a dark night and not a soul was saved. If I had not obeyed the influence of that monitor within me, I would have been there.
“I have been governed and controlled by the Spirit. I have been acquainted with this Spirit. It was not the blow of trumpets nor thunder and lightning; it was the still, small voice to me.”

A pioneer speaking of his experience in the Martin Handcart Company shared:
“We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities.”

“I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, ‘I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it.’” He continues: “I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.”

“Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.”

In early 2011, New Mexico—usually a mild desert state—felt record low temperatures. The freezing caused pipes all over the state to burst, including some in the stake center where the Scouts of Troop 211 meet. Within hours volunteers, including many of these Scouts, were at the building to help clean up.
But serving together is nothing new for the boys of the troop. Just days after helping clear out the building, parents and Scouts gathered to hold a court of honor for the 10 boys from the ward who would be receiving Eagle awards. These young men had performed a host of service projects in their community, including organizing a blood drive; cleaning up a baseball field; working on the landscaping, classrooms, and libraries of local schools; and assisting with research for eye diseases in Peru. In recognition of the boys’ collective service, the city’s mayor attended their court of honor and pronounced February 9, 2011, as “Troop 211 Eagle Scouts Day.”

Though Sig had never denied the existence of God or committed grave sins, religion was not a significant part of his life. But he couldn’t accept the philosophies of his atheistic and agnostic friends. Once, Sig had pressed one of the agnostics with the question, “If you were to join any church, which one would it be?” The man answered, “I would become a Mormon,” and cited the goodness of the Latter-day Saints as his reason.
In fact, it was the good example of the only Latter-day Saint he had ever known—“an example of a good man”—that persuaded Sig Verano to listen to the Latter-day Saint missionaries for the first time. What they taught sounded like the truth to him. The Word of Wisdom made enough of an impression that the young mechanic gave up his cigarettes and liquor and began to pray on his own. Nevertheless, it wasn’t easy for him to go to church because he had long since broken the habit of attendance. Soon, he stopped listening to the missionary lessons.
But the Verano children enjoyed Primary, which then was held one afternoon a week. Sig or Ana would drive them to the chapel for the meeting. One afternoon, the car wouldn’t start. “Well, it isn’t my fault,” Sig told them. “I guess you won’t be able to go.”
Back in the house, six-year-old Edison wouldn’t give up. “Let’s pray,” he pleaded. So they knelt in prayer, then went back out to the car. To Sig Verano’s surprise, it started immediately.
After this experience, the Veranos attended Church meetings for a time, but quit after a few weeks. During this period there were several “coincidences” that helped to keep the Church in their thoughts. Sig’s mother-in-law, visiting from Colombia, spoke favorably of the clean-cut young American missionaries whose meetinghouse was near her home. An old friend from Colombia, now a sailor in the merchant marine, came for a visit. At dinnertime, he asked if he could say a blessing on the food—and Sig Verano recognized from his prayer that he was a Latter-day Saint. The friend, a convert who studied the scriptures ardently during his long voyages, bore his testimony to the Veranos, not knowing they had been investigating the Church.
Earlier, Sig Verano had told one pair of missionaries that they could come to visit as friends, but not as teachers. Before one of them went home at the end of his mission, he and his companion stopped by to visit and to invite the Veranos to meet his parents at a small farewell gathering hosted by friends. The Veranos were so impressed with the loving Latter-day Saints they met that they began taking the missionary lessons again.
But Ana Verano, faithful to the traditions of her forefathers’ church, became stubborn when she realized her husband was serious about joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She felt she didn’t need to be baptized again. So they reached an agreement: since the children liked the Church, he would take them there after his baptism. She would continue to go to her church.
But repeatedly during the week preceding Sig’s baptism, Ana dreamed of the Savior’s baptism by John in the River Jordan. She concluded that it was an indication, meant just for her, of the right thing to do.
Sigifredo and Ana were baptized in January of 1974. Their son Edison was baptized later that year, after his eighth birthday.
The Veranos’ struggles with faithfulness were not yet over, however, and neither was the loving work of others in fellowshipping them.
A fine home teacher, George Baker, helped keep them active in the Church, Brother Verano recalls. Unused to attending church meetings three times a day, beginning with priesthood at seven A.M., Brother Verano was ready to quit. The early meetings were difficult because he was working from midnight to six A.M. But Brother Baker, who could not go himself, arranged for someone to drive the Veranos to ward meetings, and kept them coming.
The Veranos’ spirituality grew as they faithfully attended meetings and obeyed gospel principles.
He was called as president of his stake’s Spanish-speaking branch, created in 1978, and was made bishop when, after five years, it became a ward.
The creation of that branch was a blessing also for Ana Verano. What little English she knew had made it difficult for her to participate in an English-speaking ward. In the Spanish-speaking branch, she could hold callings and grow in service as her husband had.
“My real testimony has come through working in the Church,” Brother Verano says. “Constant service is one of the things that strengthens one’s testimony.”
The first Spanish-speaking ward in their stake was divided shortly after its creation, and Sig was called to the high council. He now serves as stake executive secretary for the three Spanish-speaking wards in the Los Angeles California North Hollywood Stake. Ana serves in the stake’s English-language name extraction program.
Among the vocational courses Sig Verano completed in his wide-ranging studies was one in real estate sales. It led to a profitable new career—and to further strengthening of his testimony.
His sales career didn’t begin well. He was fired after only one week when the owner of the real estate agency learned the new salesman’s religion following Brother Verano’s refusal to work on Sunday.
“The gospel is so important in our lives that Sunday is empty if we can’t go to Church meetings,” he explains. But the owner of the real estate company said that the Mormons put too much time into Church service to be successful. Go work for a small agency where the owner will not care so much about sales success, he told Sig Verano.
Brother Verano took the dismissal as a challenge. He found a job with a larger agency, and, working only part-time in 1979, was its top salesman. He has consistently refused to work on Sundays; as branch president and bishop, he also devoted part of his Saturdays to Church service. Yet for several years he has been among the company’s top five salespeople.
In Church service, Brother Verano says humbly, he has gained knowledge that the Lord lives, that through him we can be redeemed, and that he has placed prophets on earth to help guide us. Those who only tentatively believe that the gospel is true can come to know of its truth with certainty as he has—by testing it in obedience and in service to others.
“When I was baptized into the Church,” he reflects, “I believed. But now I know.”

Although she came from a family with few resources, Sister Patience Ngalula, from Kananga, DRC, had a passion to be a journalist. She finished her secondary studies and then volunteered to work without pay at a radio/television station. She learned many things, and after one year she was hired at a radio station. She then had funds to help her family and to complete her professional studies. “I now have a very good job at a radio station in Kinshasa whose content is especially dedicated to children. I remain positive, ready to serve and have great concern for the well-being of others.”

Have you ever met a ten-year-old school teacher? No? Well, meet Ellen Morgan, a pretty blond with a sunshiny smile. Ellen, along with her sisters Anna (12) and Claire (8), set up a summer “school” for children in their neighborhood.
Ellen lives in southern Idaho, right beside the Snake River near a place called Thousand Springs. It’s not easy to organize a neighborhood school when your nearest neighbor lives almost a mile away, but the Morgan sisters were determined to earn money for school clothes. Besides, teaching reading sounded like more fun than baby-sitting or doing yard work. They got busy in the old, one-room schoolhouse that their father fixed up on their property, and they sent out announcements that Thousand Springs Academy Summer School was about to begin.
Eight students came. Three days a week for six weeks Ellen and her sisters taught phonics, reading, arithmetic, and music. They also had nature walks, games, recess, and a nutritious snack every day. On the Fourth of July, the students put on a patriotic play for their families.
Teaching school comes naturally to Ellen. Her parents, Randall and DeAnna Morgan, used to be schoolteachers; now they make educational films. Her grandfather owned a business college, her grandmother and great-grandmother were teachers, and several aunts and uncles have taught school.
Ellen has four other brothers and sisters besides Anna and Claire: Jess (14), Bo (6), Laddie (3), and Jane (1). Everyone has inside and outside chores (Ellen takes care of the chickens), and there are many interesting things to do right on their own property. In summer they ride their horses, raft on the Snake River, wade in ditches, and swim in a nearby hot spring. In winter they cross-country ski, put on plays, and have cozy evenings reading aloud. It’s fun getting snowed-in, because that means having school and church at home.
When Thousand Springs Academy Summer School ended, the old schoolhouse was soon bustling again with the Morgan children’s latest project: the Thousand Springs Rural Community Library. Ellen and her older brother and sister collected hundreds of good books for young readers. When they have finished cataloguing the books, the library will be open two days a week, and it will have guest lecturers, story hours, and plays.

At first, I didn’t really understand what my dad was doing those mornings when he prayed for me. But as I got older, I came to sense his love and interest in me and in everything I was doing. It is one of my favorite memories. It wasn’t until years later, after I was married, had children of my own, and would go into their rooms while they were asleep and pray for them, that I understood completely how my father felt about me.

“Teacher! teacher! Please run now they are coming after you,” the student in a black hijab shouted at me. I couldn’t figure out why she said that. I was serving as a teacher in a village in the northern part of the country as a corper in the compulsory national youth service scheme.
Again, the warning sounded and this time, all the students in the class ran away leaving me behind. As I came out of the classroom, I saw large group of people gruesomely hacking some of my colleagues down. “What in the world is this?” I asked only to discover that I was asking the empty walls and I immediately took to my heels as the irate mobs saw me and started running towards my direction. As I ran and jumped trenches in the bush, I saw charred and dismembered bodies of old and young people.
The mobs chased me for what seemed like ages determined to do their worst. I fell into a hole and passed out. I must have stayed in the hole for many hours as it was now dark when I regained consciousness. Minutes later I heard voices of people searching for me saying, “We must find him and kill him! He is somewhere around here! He is an infidel, a Christian!” I was so afraid and started praying. As I prayed, I felt an overwhelming assuring power come over as if to say, “Be still, I am with you always.” I got up and climbed out of the hole and started saying these words as I walked aimlessly “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4) then the sound of a gunshot and flickers of torch lights interrupted me.
Thank God! The soldiers came to my rescue. Days later as we went to corper’s lodge to pick our belongings, all had been burnt except my Book of Mormon.

Sharing was not just a one-time thing for the Taylorsville Fourth Ward Young Women (Taylorsville Utah West Stake). They made it happen all year long and culminated their efforts in an Evening for Sharing.

Such events are suggested as part of the Young Women calendar each year. “One of the great rewards of accomplishment comes when a song, a talent, a thought, a few moments of time, an experience, or something created can be shared. Many things are of little worth until they are shared.” (Behold Thy Handmaiden, Guidelines for Adult Leaders, p. 8.) The idea is to provide young women in their own wards and stakes with opportunities to share what they have accomplished throughout the past year.

The young women themselves were the planners and did all the work for their Evening for Sharing. They decided that they would like to share their love for life, family, country, and church and created presentations of music, dance, readings, and displays. During the presentations, each class president gave a special award and thanked her adviser for all she had done for their class. Also, awards and gifts were given to the bishopric, Young Women president, secretary, and the sister who served on the service and activities committee. A gift was also given to the second-year Laurels who were leaving the program.

Pictures had been taken of the combined activities and service projects that had taken place throughout the year. Each class took pictures and kept mementos of their own special events. Such collections were displayed on tables around the cultural hall. The tables showed the end result of some of the goals the girls had set in each of the six areas of focus. They also showed hobbies, talents, and contributions the girls had made in other areas such as school, home, church, and community.

Christie Gailey, the Laurel class president, said, “It was good to see how everyone helped to make it a special night and also how everyone got a chance to do what they wanted to do.”

Jana Packer, a Mia Maid, felt that “it gave us a chance to look at other hobbies and talents, and if we wanted to learn how to do some things, we could ask them to show us.”

Beehive JoLynn Stewart said, “Our class likes to dance and have fun, and we really liked being able to make up our own dance for the program. I didn’t think we were going to make it in time, but we did. It was fun.”

“It made me feel really good inside to be able to give a tribute to my mother on the program,” said Melissa Hemsley.

There are many different ways of sharing. Girls can share silently by quietly and unboisterously serving, befriending, building, and setting a good example; or girls can share outwardly by bearing their testimony and by sharing the gospel wherever they are. They can share by making food or articles and then giving them as gifts to someone who needs them. Or they can share by demonstrating a music, art, or literary talent. There is no end to the ways a girl can share. In Taylorsville, young women shared their time and talents for more than just one evening; that one evening was just simple recognition for hundreds of hours of thoughtful service.

Of course the gospel brings a sense of peace too, a comfort and reassurance the youth of Huntsville want to share with their friends. So when Amanda and the rest of the youth in her ward wanted to know how to be better missionaries, they called in some experts—the elders serving in their area! And since ward members already take turns inviting the missionaries to dinner, the youth promised to feed their guests before hearing from them.
“It was a lot of fun,” says Jared Mayfield, 13, who craves almost anything associated with cheese and pepperoni. All of the youth helped in making, baking—or at least eating—the pizzas. After dinner, the elders gave advice about how to prepare for a mission and told how they felt when their own calls came. They suggested ways to bring the gospel into everyday conversations and discussed how to tell if people are interested in what you have to say.
But most of all they bore testimony of the Restoration of the gospel and the change it can bring in the lives of those who embrace the truth. And they encouraged the youth to do their part in sharing the gospel right now and in preparing themselves for future missionary service.

I first heard about Sharon when my bishop requested that I go to our local hospital to administer to a woman who had been hurt in an automobile accident. I had just returned from visiting another sister in the same hospital, which was some distance from my office. Because I had not been able to get much done that day, I really didn’t want to make that trip again and was feeling somewhat annoyed at the inconvenience. As I drove toward the hospital, my thoughts were not very positive.
Sharon and her family had been on their way home from a vacation when their vehicle had collided straight into a large truck.
Sharon was seriously injured in the collision, with a deep cut over her eyes, a fractured arm, a broken nose, internal injuries, and a badly crushed skull. One of Sharon’s sons was killed in the accident. Another son had a broken leg. Her husband and the two remaining children were slightly injured.
In the hospital emergency room the doctor had examined her briefly and had told the staff he had no hope of saving her life. Sharon had asked for a priesthood blessing.
When I arrived at the hospital, another member of my ward was waiting for me, ready to help me administer the blessing.
My companion searched Sharon’s head for a place to apply the consecrated oil—a difficult task, because her skull was so severely injured. He finally located a small, clear area to one side of her head.
I searched my mind for the words for her blessing. I had never administered to anyone who was dying before, and I didn’t know what to say. I let the Spirit guide my words. I remember assuring her that she would live to raise her children, that her earthly mission was not yet over, that her family still needed her, and that her injuries would heal quickly.
This was startling to the hospital’s emergency room staff, which consisted of nurses and nuns. They were expecting last rites, and they were stunned to hear us tell a woman who was mortally injured that she would be all right.
One of the nuns who spoke with us after the blessing was excited to think that Sharon had a chance for recovery. The same nun called me the next day to say that Sharon wanted to see me.
She was sitting up in her hospital bed when I arrived. She had a bright smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. She thanked me for the blessing and asked me to read from the scriptures. As I was preparing to leave, she asked me to adjust her oxygen mask, which kept slipping off her face. As I reached for the head strap, I noticed that there was no sign of her skull injury. Her head was whole, with no evidence of bleeding or broken bone.
Two weeks later, Sharon walked out of the hospital with only her arm in a sling and a small bandage on her forehead. The incident had provided a rare opportunity for both of us. For Sharon it was a chance to demonstrate her extraordinary faith in the priesthood; for me, it was a time to renew my commitment to give priesthood service readily whenever it is needed.

President Gordon B. Hinckley is not only President of the Church, he is also an incredible personal leader. President Hinckley has had a lot of years to develop from when I first dealt with him in 1958. I was a student walking on a dusty gravel road where a speeding car passed several times and then skidded to a stop next to me. The driver rolled down his window. I recognized him as the newest General Authority, Elder Hinckley. He was obviously frustrated and said that he was lost, already late for a meeting, and that he needed directions. I told him where to go. He thanked me, spun gravel, and kicked up more dust that left me coughing as he hurried on his way.
Many years later I said to him, “President, you are doing a good job.” He said, “Well, I am doing my best.” He is an authentic, humble leader who has paid attention, caught on, and step by step built a record of accomplishments.

Years ago, one of our daughters when she was seven years old was playing with her twin brother in an empty field. As they enjoyed their innocent childhood games, they found an unopened bottle of beer lying in the hot sun. As children will do, they threw rocks at it hoping to see it shatter.

After a number of failed attempts to hit it, our daughter found a steel bolt and innocently knelt by the bottle and struck it with a decisive blow. Indeed the bottle broke, but the hot sun had transformed it into a small explosive device and as it shattered, the glass flew outward and upward striking her in the face and, most seriously, lacerating her eye. The flying glass also opened a large wound on her lower eyelid and down her beautiful little face.

Her brother helped her back to our home and her mother rushed her to the emergency room. The doctors gave some hope that her eye could be saved and that the wound on her face would heal with minimal scarring.

However, we were disappointed to learn that rather than healing as we had hoped, her injuries developed excess scar tissue that eventually destroyed her eye and developed a significant scar under her eye and down her face. Over the next ten years, she underwent a number of surgeries to recover as much as possible. As parents we provided love, faith, prayers, and support the best we could.

One of the greatest challenges we faced as parents was to see her go into the bathroom before going to school, lock the door, and, at least in our minds, imagine her staring at herself in the mirror wondering how she could ever get through the day. She grew out her hair and had very long bangs to try to cover that one side of her face and she wore glasses not only to protect her eye, but to also try to mask the scar on her face.

The good news is that over time a talented physician performed a miracle and helped her recover in a remarkable way. If you saw her today you would probably not detect any trace of what I have described. As parents it was difficult to see any particular good that would, or could, ever come from what we considered a tragedy that befell an innocent seven-year-old girl. Today, this young woman is the mother of four beautiful children, full of faith, devotion to God, and a wonderful, caring, kind, and generous person.

It wasn't until last Christmas that we sensed in our daughter's life the fulfillment of the scripture that, "all things work together for good to those who walk uprightly." At our annual family adult Christmas party, each of our children and their spouses were asked to consider a challenge they had in life which seemed difficult at the time, but that has been a blessing as the years passed by. When it was this particular daughter's turn to share, she certainly remembered the accident as a very challenging time. She recalled the worries and concerns about going to school and facing her friends, teachers, and other students.

She recalled that often she did go into the bathroom before school and look into the mirror, but she related something even more important. She said that in the morning she also went into her bedroom and knelt down in prayer and asked Heavenly Father--even pled with Him--to help her face other students and more importantly to endure her own feelings of hurt and embarrassment. She simply said about those days, "God answered my prayers. I did make it!"

It was difficult for her. She said that it was only with God's help that she could face each day. He blessed her with loyal friends and a twin brother that always had her back and a future husband that could totally look past her perceived defects and totally love the lovely woman that she was and is. She ended her story that Christmas evening by quoting part of the poem, "Invictus," that ends with, "I am the master of my fate and the captain of my soul!" It was a very moving experience to hear her tell of how this seeming tragedy had somehow also been a remarkable blessing to her.

This experience that seemed so unfair and painful at the time became a foundation of her faith that God would help her with other challenges throughout life. Her example also blesses her family and those who know her well.

Perhaps the greatest blessing coming from this experience is that her four beautiful children see their mother as a pillar of faith, strength, and determination. Her example and teachings will help them prepare for life and live more productive, rich, and rewarding lives.

My friend and I were the only Mormons working in our area. We were always kidded about our so-called “strange beliefs,” and every time we’d mention religion, the others would jump down our throats. But they couldn’t stop us from singing. It reached the point that if we’d stop, they’d ask us to begin again. I think we sang every hymn in the hymnbook and every song we’d ever learned in Primary or Sunday School. It was very special singing about the Savior in the land he loved. Songs like “I Am a Child of God” and “Come, Come, Ye Saints” began to touch the hearts of the people we were working with, and they began asking questions.
I remember how excited one young woman was when she found out I was a Mormon. She had visited a world’s fair and had been very impressed by all the young people who were eager to explain our church to her. She wanted to know what it is in our church that gets our young people so excited. She said, “I thought religion was something for the old, when you don’t have anything better to do. What is it that makes you all look so happy?”
Some of us didn’t realize how much we were being watched. I happened to overhear the conversation of two young women. One of them was speaking very harshly and using profanity. Finally the other woman spoke up and said, “I don’t have to listen to you and this kind of language! I’m going to get me a good Mormon friend!”
One Jewish boy I met had heard something about archaeology and the Church. He said, “I understand that one of you Mormons made an important archaeological find in the states. I think it was New York, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be some kind of record starting with my people here in Jerusalem. Would you tell me about it?”
When you are placed out in the middle of nowhere and denied most of the conveniences you are accustomed to, you become grateful for things you never realized you were blessed with before. It amazes me that I could be completely covered with dirt, have blisters on both hands, sore muscles, flies flying around my head, and an upset stomach, and yet feel so completely blessed for experiences in which physical discomfort teaches patience and gratitude. I started thinking past the physical and material things because I was living on so little and was amazed at how little I need materially and how much my whole life depends on my Father in heaven.
Having participated in this travel-work-study program, I find the whole existence of man has taken on a new meaning for me. Everything seems to take its place in an orderly plan, and I realize that man, throughout all the ages, has not changed a great deal. I understand more fully that I am a part of the Lord’s plan. In the same way we tried to reconstruct broken pieces of pottery into the original vase or jar, I see the small lessons I am learning fitting into an organized, divine piece of art.

Soon after I was called to be a stake president, our stake presidency received training from an Area Seventy. During the training, I asked a question to which he responded, “That is a good question. Let’s turn to the Church Handbook of Instructions for the answer.” We then went to the handbook, and there was the answer to my question. A little later in our training, I asked another question. Once again he responded, “Good question. Let’s turn to the handbook.” I did not venture to ask any more questions. I thought it best to read the handbook.

On a recent assignment in the Philippines, I met Karen, who shared an experience she had as a Laurel while studying for a bachelor’s degree in hotel and restaurant management. A teacher required that every student learn to make and taste the variety of drinks that would be served in their restaurants. Some of the drinks contained alcohol, and Karen knew it was against the Lord’s commandments for her to taste them. In the face of serious consequences, Karen found courage to arise and shine forth, and she did not partake of the drinks.

Karen explained: “My teacher approached me and asked me why I was not drinking. He said, ‘Miss Karen, how will you know the flavor and pass this important subject if you do not at least taste the drinks?’ I told him that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and as members, we do not drink things that are harmful to us. Whatever he expected of me, even if it meant receiving a failing grade, I would understand, but I would not fail to live my personal standards.”

Weeks passed, and nothing more was said about that day. At the end of the semester, Karen knew her final grade would reflect her refusal to taste the drinks. She hesitated to look at her grade, but when she did, she discovered that she had received the highest grade in the class.

She said: “I learned through this experience that God … will surely bless us when we follow Him. I also know that even if I had received a failing grade, I would not regret what I had done. I know that I will never fail in the Lord’s sight when I choose to do what I know to be the right thing.”15

Brother Yefi told us how he was introduced to the Church.
“Since I was a child,” he said, “I had suffered from nosebleeds. One time, after I was married, I suffered a nosebleed so severe that I fainted and had hallucinations. When I recovered, I thought I had gone on to the next life. But I was glad to see my wife by my side taking care of me.
“I decided to go to see a doctor in Puerto Varas. While I was at a friend’s house, he told me that two young men lived nearby who ‘cured’ people in the name of the Lord. Since I have always been a faithful man, I went to see them and asked them how much they charged for a blessing. The young men, who stood out because of their white shirts, told me, ‘We don’t charge money to bless one of our brothers. If you have faith that you will be healed with the blessing we give you, it will be the Lord who will really cure you.’
“They then invited me to sit down, but I told them, ‘I don’t feel comfortable when I’m sitting down. I would feel better kneeling.’ The missionaries put their hands on my head and gave me a blessing. The experience was marvelous. I felt warm all over my body, and I had no doubt that it was God’s power curing me. Never again did I have a nosebleed.
“After this experience, I asked the missionaries what I had to do to become a member of their Church. They asked me if I was married. I told them yes, and we made an appointment to meet together with my wife the following Sunday. The missionaries presented the first discussion, and then they asked us to return the next week for the second discussion. But I told them that because of the distance involved, I wanted them to baptize us then. So we received all the discussions and were baptized the same day, 28 September 1979.
“It’s a long distance between our home and the church, but we attended Sunday meetings as often as possible. On one of our visits, I was interviewed by the branch president to be ordained to the Aaronic priesthood.”

President Quintana knows the importance of finding friends at church. The night of his baptism at age 18, his best friend told him he would never visit him again if he joined the Church. Ten minutes before the service began, Guillermo decided to go ahead anyway and left for the meetinghouse. “I lost my dearest friend that night,” he recalls. However, within two weeks he met the woman who later became his wife, and she became the friend who sustained him during his mission.