Gospel Story Finder

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 visited a ward in the Altiplano of Bolivia. It is a very poor area. The people speak Spanish and Quechua, but most of them do not know how to read either language because they have never had the opportunity to learn. After the meeting, I talked with an eleven-year-old boy. On the wall of the building were pictures of the members of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. This young boy pointed to each of the Brethren and named every one of them. Then he said to me, “Will you please tell President Benson that I am reading the Book of Mormon.” He was learning to read by reading the Book of Mormon. I said to him, “Let me see if you really know how to read by reading 1 Nephi 3:7 [1 Ne. 3:7].” He turned to it quickly and said, “I can read it, but I don’t need to because I know that scripture by heart.” He then recited it perfectly.

Before I left on my mission, I gave a colleague a subscription to A Liahona (Portuguese). Three months later she was baptized and today is a faithful member of the Church.
As a missionary, I always try to share something from the magazine with our investigators. They are always interested in the articles, and they feel the Spirit very strongly. The magazine is a great missionary tool—if we will use it.
Elder Gevezier,Brazil Recife Mission

At the time, Russia was experiencing political change, and Americans living and working in Moscow began to reach out to their Russian friends and acquaintances. Dohn Thornton met Galina Goncharova in 1989, and religion became a topic of discussion between them. Brother Thornton later recalled, “As I gave [Galina] the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith pamphlet, the most incredible thing happened. It was [as] if all the light in the room at that moment focused on the book. The Spirit came over us and [she] started to cry.”8 Galina told him that she felt the book was from God. She began attending church and was baptized in June 1990, becoming the first convert baptized in Moscow.

I think I am safe in saying that all of us look to our living prophet as one who is fully committed to following the Savior. As we look at the life of President Hinckley, we see abundant evidence of him deciding at an early age that he would do all that was asked of him by the Lord. He tells the story about a time during his mission in England when three or four of the London papers carried some negative reviews of a reprint of an old book purporting to be a history of the Mormons.

His mission president said to then Elder Hinckley, “I want you to go down to the publisher and protest this.”

Elder Hinckley was about to say, “Surely not me,” but instead meekly said, “Yes, sir.”

President Hinckley talked about the fear that he felt, but he offered a prayer and then, with stomach churning, went down to meet with the president of the publishing company. He presented his card to the receptionist, who took it into the inner office and then returned to indicate that the president was too busy to meet with him. Elder Hinckley replied that he had come five thousand miles and would wait. Over the next hour the receptionist went into the office several times and then finally invited Elder Hinckley in. As he entered, he noticed that the president was smoking a long cigar and had a look that seemed to say, “Don’t bother me.”

President Hinckley doesn’t recall what he said, but another power seemed to speak through him. At first the company president was defensive and belligerent. Then he began to soften. By the end of their conversation he promised to do something, and he sent word out to every book dealer in England to return the books to the publisher. At great expense he printed in the front of each volume a statement to the effect that the book was not to be considered as history but only as fiction. President Hinckley concluded his telling of this story by saying, “I came to know that when we try in faith to walk in obedience to the requests of the priesthood, the Lord opens the way, even when there appears to be no way” (Gordon B. Hinckley, “If Ye Be Willing and Obedient,” Ensign, July 1995, 5).

A number of years ago, I attended my 20-year high school reunion. I hadn’t seen many of my former classmates since graduation day, and I was excited for the opportunity to see them again. Some of these classmates surprised me; a few who were formerly well-behaved youth had since gotten into trouble or seemed to have otherwise changed for the worse. A few others who used to have lower standards were now active Church members, and I could see that the power of the Atonement had been at work in their lives.
However, I noted with interest that the majority of my former classmates were on the same path they had been following in high school. The decisions they had made so many years ago had largely determined where they were today. Many who had been good, righteous teenagers were now righteous adults. And many who had started down the wrong path so long ago were still on that course.
As a teenager, you are faced with decisions every day that can influence the course of your life and will decide what kind of person you will become. You cannot see exactly where your future will lead, but you can ensure your future happiness by making righteous decisions now. Here are some guidelines that will help you when making important decisions. They will help get you on the path of righteousness and make sure you don’t wander.
Several years ago, I was in the market for a van. My wife and I had nine children, and we needed a larger vehicle. One day, I saw a big 12-passenger van for sale. I contacted the owner, who let me take it for a test drive. I was worried about the height of the van, so I decided to drive it home to see if it would fit in our garage.
I eyeballed the van and the garage door, and it looked like the van was too tall. I got a tape measure and measured the van, then the garage door. Sure enough, the van was too tall. But I wanted the van so badly; I wanted it to fit! So I called my wife out and said, “Come out and watch this. I’m going to try to pull the van into the garage and see if I can make it.” Luckily, before I actually tried to pull the van in, I thought, Wait a minute, I know I can’t make it! I realized that I had two reliable standards already. When I looked at the van, I could see it was too tall. And when I measured the door and the van, I could see the van wouldn’t fit. Yet I was almost willing to risk damage to the van and the garage by trying to drive it in. My personal desires almost kept me from trusting the standards.
When you have difficult choices to make, use your parents, your leaders, words of the prophets, and the scriptures as standards to see if your decisions fit, so to speak. The For the Strength of Youth pamphlet is another terrific resource. There’s no need to spend a lot of time worrying about many of the choices you’re faced with, because the answers are right there in that little pamphlet. It contains very specific guidelines for music, media, dress, and so forth. Follow the standards it contains. Don’t be like those who think, “If I look at this standard from a different angle, maybe my unrighteous decision will fit.”
You will find joy as you make choices that help you follow the Savior. Everything our Heavenly Father does is calculated to bring us joy and happiness. “Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy” (2 Nephi 2:25). On the other hand, Satan’s devices always lead to misery. But he tries to disguise this fact. He tells us, “Commit this sin and it will make you happy.” But it’s a lie. Sin always leads to misery. Remember Alma’s words to Corianton: “Wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10).
Mormon’s counsel in Moroni 7 is very wise. In verses 16 and 17 he says: “Wherefore, I show unto you the way to judge; for every thing which inviteth to do good, and to persuade to believe in Christ, is sent forth by the power and gift of Christ; wherefore ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of God.
“But whatsoever thing persuadeth men to do evil, and believe not in Christ, and deny him, and serve not God, then ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of the devil.”
When you are faced with an important decision, be sure that your choice will lead you nearer to Christ.
It is important that you come to understand how the Holy Ghost works in your life. Learn to recognize and understand the Spirit’s gentle promptings, and have the courage to always follow them. When you are faced with a hard decision, following the Holy Ghost can make all the difference.
I remember once, while on a break from high school, a friend and I decided to go hiking through the slot canyons in southern Utah. We drove for several hours to our destination and then hiked to a nice campsite by the river and spent the night.
When we got up in the morning, all my excitement for our hiking trip was gone. Instead, I had a feeling that we ought to return home. For more than two hours this feeling kept bothering me; then suddenly, it went away. I felt so relieved because, frankly, I was afraid to share my feelings with my friend. We’d spent so many hours driving and hiking to our campsite and planned to spend several more days hiking and camping. I was afraid of what my friend would think of me if I said, “I think we ought to go home.”
After lunch, my friend left the campsite to be alone for a few minutes. When he returned, he said, “I think we’d better go home.”
“I do, too,” I said. We cut our trip short and went home.
Today I still think about that experience. I didn’t listen to the Spirit—or at least I didn’t act on the promptings I felt—and the Spirit left me. I am grateful that my friend had the courage to listen and follow.
You also have the Holy Ghost to give you direction. You know what is right. You can feel it. You know when you’re not supposed to watch a certain movie or play a particular video game. You may be tempted to ignore or go against the promptings of the Spirit because you are afraid of how others will react to your decision. Be courageous and do what you know is right.
As a teenager, you face challenging decisions on a regular basis. The choices you make now will shape your character and help to determine the person you will be years from now. Don’t wait until you’re an adult to figure out how to recognize the Spirit; learn now. The Lord will be generous in providing you with opportunities to feel what is right. If you learn to recognize and follow the Spirit, your life will be blessed forever, and you will receive the guidance you need in making important choices.

On several occasions I have heard versions of a story, presumably based on fact, that goes something like this: A guide or host at one of the Church’s visitors’ centers was one day approached by an old man. He acknowledged that he was a member of the Church but said that he had not been associated with the Church since his years as a youth. He told of one day being expelled from a Sunday School class—apparently for misconduct. He said he had never been inside a church building since that day, and he further explained that his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren numbered more than one hundred, and not one of them was a member of the Church.
When I have heard this story retold, it has generally been to illustrate the dreadful price that was paid because of the rash act of an angry Sunday School officer. But we do not hear the Sunday School officer’s side of the story. Nor do we take into account the responsibility of the young man for his own conduct and his years of unrelenting, unrepentant bitterness and animosity that have poisoned his own life as well as the lives of so many of his offspring.
The story is filled with tragedy. Who is responsible for the tragedy, and how could it have been avoided?

Donna’s red curls bounced as she skipped home from school. Mrs. Richards had just read the class a story about pirates who buried chests full of treasure. Some of the buried treasures had never been found, and Donna was thinking how wonderful it would be to discover one of them. Her family was going to Grandma’s house for dinner that night, and she could hardly wait to tell Grandma the story. She often talked about the olden days; now it would be Donna’s turn.
When they arrived at Grandma’s house, Donna ran straight to the kitchen. “Grandma! Grandma!” she squealed. “We learned about buried treasure today. My teacher says there are still treasures hidden away. Maybe when I get older, I can find one.”
Grandma smiled. “What kind of treasure would you like to find?”
Donna thought for a minute. “Gold and diamonds.”
Grandma nodded with a twinkle in her eye. “That certainly would be wonderful. Maybe after dinner we could pretend to be pirates and look for buried treasure right here.”
Donna clapped her hands. “Oh, Grandma, could we? I’ll help you clean up after dinner.”
When the dishes were washed and put away, Grandma took Donna aside and whispered in her ear. “When I was a little girl, I, too, dreamed of finding a treasure. I used to search in the attic. Shall we see if there’s any treasure up there?”
Donna could hardly control her excitement. “Yes! Yes!”
They had to climb some narrow steps to get into the dark attic. Donna held Grandma’s hand very tightly. She was a little afraid, but she didn’t want Grandma to know. When they reached the top of the stairs and Grandma turned on the light, Donna was disappointed. All she saw were some dusty boxes, a few cobwebs, and a big trunk that didn’t look anything like a pirate chest. How could they ever find treasure in this junk?
Donna carefully opened one of the boxes. Inside were some old toys. She took out a doll with bright blue eyes and a pink dress. “Who did this belong to?” she asked, admiring the doll.
“Your mother. It was her favorite, and she used to play with it every day. She called it Donna, and she always said that when she had a little girl, she would name her Donna, too.”
Donna smiled, trying to imagine her mom playing with the doll. It made her happy to know that her mom had always wanted a little girl.
Grandma had opened another box and was looking at a large picture in a beautiful wood frame. Standing in the picture was a red-haired girl about Donna’s age. Donna examined the picture carefully. She had seen this girl before, but where?
“Who is she?” Donna asked.
“Well, goodness,” said Grandma, “that picture does look familiar.” She searched and found a dusty mirror, cleaned it off, and handed it to Donna. “Look,” she said, “and tell me what you see.”
As Donna looked in the mirror, her eyes got bigger. They were the same big brown eyes she had seen in the picture, under the same red curls. The two faces were the same!
“That’s me in the picture, Grandma! Why can’t I remember when it was taken?”
Grandma laughed. “Because that isn’t you in the picture, dear. It’s your mother. We had that picture taken when she was just about your age.”
Donna was amazed. She had had no idea that she looked so much like her mom.
Grandma’s eyes were gleaming as she opened the big trunk. “Donna,” she said, “come see what I’ve found!” On top of the pile was the dress Donna’s mom had worn in the picture. It was white with purple flowers and white ruffles.
“Can I try it on, Grandma?” Donna pleaded. “I’ll be very careful; I promise.” After Grandma had helped her put on the dress, Donna looked in the mirror again and giggled. Now she looked exactly like Mom. They were finding some wonderful treasures, even though not of diamonds or gold.
Grandma reached into the trunk again and pulled out another picture. This time it was a small picture of a beautiful building.
“I know what that is!” Donna exclaimed. “It’s the Salt Lake Temple.”
“Yes,” Grandma said. “This picture is very special to me. When I was a little girl, my Primary teacher gave one to each of us after a lesson about the temple. She told us how wonderful it was to go to the temple and be sealed together as a family.
“She said that we could also do work for people who had died without a chance to hear about the gospel. Then she explained that in order to enter the temple, we had to go to church, pay our tithing, obey the Word of Wisdom, and keep the other commandments.
“I was so proud of my beautiful picture that I took it home and hung it right above my bed. Every night before I said my prayers, I looked at the picture, then asked Heavenly Father to help me prepare to go there. I wanted to go to the temple more than anything else. I wanted to help people like my great-grandmother, who didn’t know about the gospel. And I wanted to be married there to a good man.
“The day I went to the temple with your grandpa to be married for eternity was the most beautiful day of my life. When I see our family together, it makes me happy that we have made the right choices. We still need to keep working to be good, but it’s all worth it, knowing that we can be together forever.”
Donna smiled. “I guess we really did find a treasure today.”
Grandma hugged her. “Donna, I want you to have this picture of the temple to help you remember the treasures you will find there.”
Donna gave Grandma a big kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Grandma. You’re the best treasure finder in the whole world!”

I have just recently graduated from high school and turned 18. During my last year of school, I met a very special young man. I had wanted to tell him everything about the Church, but I didn’t know how to go about it.
One day I received the temple marriage issue of the New Era. All of the stories were very interesting. But one particular story seemed to stand out the most—“A Marvelous Work.” It was about a young woman who gave the Book of Mormon to a friend and introduced him to the Church. I read over this story a few times before I decided to let my friend take the New Era and read through it. I also decided to give him a Book of Mormon.
After doing so, my family and I decided to send the missionaries to his home. Not too long after that, he was baptized. He received the priesthood and serves as second assistant in the priests quorum.
I would like to thank the people who write for the New Era, and especially those who write articles pertaining to missionary work, including “A Marvelous Work.”
Beverly BradenApple Valley, California

It was three o’clock in the morning. My dad had just nailed the final trim on the three-story dollhouse we had built for my little sisters (the trim was not quite dry and the white paint still bears several thumb prints). Mom and I placed inside all of the furniture we had made and gathered, and then sat back and looked with real pleasure on our creation. It had been a hectic three weeks of building, creating, and upholstering, but this year Christmas somehow seemed more real. The small house was beautiful. The furnishings were charming, and the tiny crocheted rugs just fit the decorating scheme we had chosen.
Since that Christmas several years ago we have made a few improvements in our dollhouse—pasted 1-by-1 1/2-inch cardboard pieces on the roof for shingles, added tiny accessories on the tables and shelves, found a potbellied stove for the upstairs bedroom—and with each passing year, and the arrival of each new niece and nephew, the dollhouse has grown in popularity; it has even become the pattern for several others as far away as Michigan.

The clouds hung low and white over the small town of Liberty Bell that twenty-sixth day of December 1908. Sarah Moseley made her way from her family’s house at the end of the street toward the boardwalk, where her new dress would get a brief respite from mud-spraying wagon wheels.
Sarah’s family had been laboring under the stressful effects of no income in recent months, but her mother had managed to rummage up sufficient materials from an old attic chest to fashion a beautiful patchwork dress for Sarah. It was the only gift she had received for Christmas the day before, and she was fitly grateful for and proud of it.
As she continued along the street, she turned the collar of her frayed wrap up around her neck to ward off the biting chill of wind and lightly driven snow. Suddenly someone wearing a tattered sheepskin coat stepped out in front of her. He had a tangle of red hair, and a crooked scowl on his face. Toby Wilder! Last week he had asked Sarah for some answers to a test in Miss Cornaby’s class, and Sarah had refused. Now he looked ready for revenge. “I would have passed that test if you had given me those answers,” he growled.
“There’s a right and a wrong to everything, Toby Wilder,” Sarah said, swallowing hard, “and cheating is wrong.”
Toby glared at her, then pushed her back toward the edge of the boardwalk. “There’s a right and a wrong to everything, Toby Wilder,” he mimicked. “You think you know all there is to know about what is and what isn’t, don’t you little Miss High-and-Mighty.”
He glanced up and down the street through the haze of falling snow. No one was in sight. Shoving her roughly off the boardwalk, he laughed derisively and swaggered away as she pulled herself up from the street mire. Her eyes filled with tears as she wiped at the icy ooze on her new Christmas dress and headed for the store.
The bell above the door jangled as Sarah stepped into John Walton’s Mercantile Store. The man behind the counter looked at her with concern.
“What happened, Sarah?” he asked.
“Toby Wilder,” she sighed.
Mr. Walton nodded. “That’s not the first time he’s done something like that. Warm yourself by the stove there.” When Sarah hesitated, he added kindly, “Go on, child. There’s no sense in all that warmth going to waste, now, is there?”
“I guess not,” Sarah responded. “It’s just that you’ve given us so much these past few months, all our food and such, that I just don’t feel right about taking the only spot in front of your stove.”
“Sarah Moseley,” Mr. Walton declared, “since when did I keep anybody away from my potbellied stove?”
Sarah smiled in gratitude and stepped in front of the stove. Mr. Walton came out from behind the counter and pulled up a chair in front of Sarah. He sat down and spoke privately. “After that boxcar explosion at the depot last September, it’s a wonder your father is still alive. It’ll be a little while yet before he’s up and about.” He pushed a wisp of damp hair from Sarah’s eye. “Your father is a good man,” Mr. Walton continued. “He’ll pay me back when he’s able. Now give me that shopping list I know you have.” Sarah obliged him. “Besides,” he added as he stood with a little grunt, “it’s Christmas time, isn’t it?”
Sarah’s face wrinkled with curiosity. “What do you mean, Mr. Walton?”
“Christ gave His life for you and me, Sarah, not to mention for those that crucified Him. It seems the least I can do is give a can of beans and”—he checked Sarah’s list—“a box of baking soda and the like to people I love. Of course, that’s easy. The trick is giving to, or doing something for, someone you don’t like. Now there’s the real test. The problem is that I like everybody.” He laughed. “Well, almost everybody.”
Sarah watched Mr. Walton climb the ladder behind the counter. A ray of winter sun made his face radiant. “Why is it so important to be nice to people who are mean to you?” she asked.
Mr. Walton reached for a box of baking soda on a high shelf, then looked down at the girl below him. “Maybe because the Savior was. Maybe because it’s part of forgiving. It’s the same thing, wouldn’t you say?” He climbed down the ladder and began placing the few gathered items in a sack on the counter. He pushed the groceries across the counter to Sarah. “I have an idea that charity is what Christmas is all about. And forgiveness. What do you think, Sarah?”
“I guess you’re right, Mr. Walton,” Sarah answered, thoughtful.
It wasn’t until Sarah was outside again that she noticed something extra in her sack. A large candy stick. She puzzled over it a moment, then smiled at Mr. Walton’s kindness.
No sooner had Sarah started down the boardwalk in the direction of home than she spied Toby Wilder just ahead, leaning against a pole. His back was to her, and he was looking toward the sun as if he were aching for a little warmth on an otherwise bleak, unfriendly day.
Bracing herself, Sarah stepped up to him. “Toby?”
Toby whirled around. When he saw who it was, he growled, “What’s the matter, Sarah. Didn’t you get wet enough the first time?”
Sarah handed him the candy stick. “Merry Christmas,” she said.
Toby didn’t answer. He just stood there gaping.
Sarah glanced back in the direction of the mercantile store, where she could see Mr. Walton looking out the window, waving. She waved back, then turned and continued down the boardwalk toward home.

Recently, in Holland, the mission president was stricken with a massive heart attack and lay near death’s door for a while. Though he was an American foreigner, so to speak, he belonged to the household of God, and literally thousands of people in Holland and other lands, and the Apostles of the Lord, knelt and prayed for his life—if it was the will of God that he should live. Think of it—and it happens hundreds of times every day upon this earth. He belonged to the family of God; he felt their fasting and prayers and love. And what about his wife? She belonged as she had never known possible. I was there. I was a witness, and there were so many calls from those who belong to the household of God that she actually became weary.
As the president improved and I left, my heart was so full. Yes, for the preservation of his life, but also for the privilege of belonging to the church of Jesus Christ, here upon the earth.

One day when I was really struggling, I read my patriarchal blessing. As I read it, I realized that I do have a future. God has a plan for me, and He actually loves me. Going to church, taking the sacrament, reading the scriptures, and praying has brought so much light and happiness into my life. I soon realized, “This actually helps me.” That’s when I knew I always wanted the gospel in my life. After everything I’ve been through, I know that the gospel has saved my life, and I’m very happy about that.

The rodeo chute burst open and a raging, bucking bronco leaped high into the air. A cowboy sat on the horse in perfect form, the rhythm of each move matched to the twisting and turning of the wild animal.
But then the crowd rose to its feet and gasped as the massive animal came crashing down on its side, all of its weight crushing the left foot of its rider.
Zane Davis picked himself up and hobbled over to the chute. When he got his boot off, the foot began to swell. The crushed bones eliminated his chances to continue in the competition, but that didn’t keep Zane down.
Less than a month later he was back in the saddle, working his way to the title as top college rodeo rider in the United States.
Now Zane is serving a mission in Brazil and teaching the gospel to people in Portuguese. And he says, “I wouldn’t trade this mission experience for anything—even a national professional rodeo championship.”
It was in June of 1990 that Zane Davis secured the award as the national collegiate all-around cowboy of the year in the College National Finals Rodeo in Bozeman, Montana. Although only a freshman at the College of Southern Idaho, Zane didn’t get to the number-one spot by simply riding a few wild horses and winning a few competitions. Zane’s training started before he could walk, when his father, Shawn Davis (a three-time National Finals Rodeo saddle bronc world champion), took him along to rodeos across North America.
At the age of three, Zane insisted that he be allowed to ride in the rodeo against the eight- to twelve-year-old cowboys. But since he was too young to compete, he was only allowed to demonstrate his riding skill. Undaunted, he put on his hat, boots, rope, and spurs and climbed aboard a rather angry calf. Zane says that the next thing he knew he was on the ground. Apparently, he had ridden the calf almost to the time limit before falling off.
He entered his next rodeo when he was only five, and this time a pony bucked him off. But he still walked away with third-place honors. Hundreds of rodeos later, Zane had earned an impressive array of saddles, belt buckles, trophies, and cash prizes. The success came as a result of hard work.
Each day at his parents’ ranch in Idaho, Zane exercised by doing eighty sit-ups, twenty pull-ups, and four hundred push-ups. In addition, his riding included roping ten to twenty calves and practicing once a week for each riding event. Also, before each rodeo, Zane asked his father for a father’s blessing. Zane says, “I feel that these blessings kept me from getting injured on many occasions; and when I was injured, I recovered remarkably fast.”
Zane adds that obeying the Word of Wisdom has been a great blessing in his life. “Other cowboys who drink and take drugs may be good for a very short time, but they never last long,” he says.
Another reason Zane has done so well is that he has learned to face challenges. At one rodeo, he had to ride a bull that had thrown off all the college-age riders who had tried to ride it. But Zane, only thirteen years old, got on the bull and rode him in three out of five attempts. “I don’t remember ever being really frightened at a rodeo,” said Zane. “A little fear is always good for you, but too much fear is not good. If you have a little fear, you plan better. If you have too much fear, you may get out of control.”
One of the hardest decisions Zane ever had to face was whether or not to go on a mission. Colleges all over the United States were recruiting him. Although he had always planned on a mission, the final decision was really hard. “But I decided I had to go on a mission to try to pay the Lord back for some of the many blessings I have received,” he said.
Zane wrote home from his mission and said, “I’ve learned many things. I’ve changed a lot. I thought riding three times at each rodeo all summer long was tough, but it wasn’t anything as tough as serving a mission; nevertheless, it has been good for me.”
In his life, Zane has ridden a thousand wild horses and roped a thousand calves. Rodeo became easy to him. But perhaps the best thing about the sport was the chance to be with his father—who was always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.
Zane’s mission in Brazil was not easy. He underwent the shock of learning a new language and living in a different culture. But Zane improved daily. And on his mission he learned firsthand that his Father in Heaven is always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.

On one of those trips, we asked him a question something like this: “Elder Richards, after all the years you have lived, all the places you have been, and all the things you have done, what do you consider to be the most significant experience of your life?” We thought that maybe he would refer to an outstanding spiritual experience such as with the Brethren in the temple or something like that.

He didn’t hesitate for a moment in making this enthusiastic response: “Why, it was my first mission to Holland!” He then proceeded to share with us some of the choice and challenging experiences he had when he left home and arrived in Holland without knowing a word of Dutch. He said that even the dogs understood the language but he didn’t. But he supposed if the dogs could learn to understand Dutch, he probably could also—and that he did.

In his journal Elder Richards described some of the experiences he had at the end of that first mission:

In the evening meeting I spoke first to give my farewell. As I walked into the pulpit and viewed the faces of the brothers and sisters . . . , a feeling came over me that I had never had before. To think how I had preached them the word of the Lord with all the power the Lord had given me. . . . I had learned to love them, and they in turn placed me far above what I really am. . . . I never in my life felt happier than under the influence of the Spirit present this evening. [Lucile C. Tate, LeGrand Richards: Beloved Apostle (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1982), p. 52]

Before leaving his mission, Elder Richards went to the home of a woman who, with her family, had come into the Church as a result of his missionary efforts. His biographer described the occasion:

She was so short that she had to look way up to him. . . . When he went to leave, tears rolled down her cheeks and she said, “Elder Richards, it was hard to see my daughter leave for Zion a few months ago, but it is much harder to see you go.”

He went to bid another convert good-bye, a man who stood erect in the uniform of his country. This friend got down on his knees and took the elder’s hand in his, hugged and kissed it, and bathed it with his tears of gratitude for the gospel the missionary had brought. Elder Richards said upon leaving him, “I wept all the way from Amsterdam to Rotterdam, thinking that I might never see those friends of mine again. It was much harder to leave them than it was my own family when I left on my mission.” [Tate, LeGrand Richards, pp. 52–53; emphasis added]

In 1952, super-athlete Emil Zatopek of Czechoslovakia won both the 10,000 and 5,000-meter races. To celebrate his victory, he announced he would enter the marathon, even though he had never run the 41.8 kilometer event before.
“Do you really think you can win?” a newsman asked.
“If I didn’t think I could win, I wouldn’t have entered,” Zatopek replied.
At the 24.1 kilometer mark, Zatopek was side-by-side with Him Peters of Great Britain, the pre-race favorite.
“Don’t you think we should be going a bit faster?” Zatopek asked, then ran ahead. He was grinning when he won.

My mother invited Lee to sit in on the lessons too, but he was caught up in his senior-year activities and wasn’t interested. He sat in on the first discussion, but then always seemed to have something else to do whenever the elders visited. My mom and I started attending church together, and things just started to feel right. I was baptized that spring, shortly before my brother graduated. At the end of my school term, Mom and I decided it would be better for me if I repeated the seventh grade and buckled down to do things right. I felt good inside.
Lee went into the army the summer he graduated and was sent to Kentucky for basic training. For a boy raised in thin mountain air, the humid air of Kentucky in August was almost more than he could bear. Lee also found out what homesickness is all about. He wrote home every day, and Mom cried when she read his letters. She asked him to find out if there was an LDS ward he could attend near the base. We prayed for him and encouraged him to pray too. My grandmother had given Lee a Bible as a graduation present, and for some reason he had thrown it in his suitcase when he left. It turned out that religious books were the only reading material allowed on base. When he told my mother that, she sent him a Book of Mormon. Shortly after that, we started getting letters from Lee saying how much he enjoyed the scriptures and that he was reading them aloud to other soldiers in his unit. Of course, my mother cried some more. In a few weeks Mom asked Lee if he wanted to take the missionary discussions. But Lee wrote back to say he had already asked the bishop to set up discussions. He was baptized that Thanksgiving when he came home on leave. Mom cried then too.

One day, Wilford was feeding pumpkins to his father’s cattle in a pasture.
He noticed that one large bull was eating more than his fair share, so Wilford decided to take one of his pumpkins away.
Wilford: He ate one of that cow’s pumpkins! I’ll show him who’s boss.
The bull was so mad at Wilford that he started chasing him down the pasture hill.
Luckily, Wilford tripped and fell to the ground, and the pumpkin went flying out of his hands. The bull jumped right over Wilford and tore the pumpkin to pieces with his horns.
Wilford: If I hadn’t tripped, that would’ve been me getting torn to pieces!

For Gabby and Ethan Quesne, getting an eternal marriage was a very long, and sometimes frustrating, journey.
Below is their story and their thoughts on marriage as they experienced it in 2020:
We met at a church ball back in 2016. We can’t say that it was love at first sight because Ethan forgot who I was after that! Shortly after, we rekindled our relationship at institute and sparks flew. We pretty much saw each other four days a week after that. We then got engaged in May 2018. We knew we wanted to be with each other forever pretty quickly because of how well we got on and how much we laughed with each other. Marriage at some point was pretty much a no-brainer.
Ethan and I both want an eternal family unit and want to have children and raise them to be good, kind and thoughtful people. To us, marriage is a great way to bring about that family stability. I guess we have been preparing since our youth by trying to be good, kind people ourselves, being inspired by our parents and grandparents.
Our journey to marriage became a bit challenging when I finished university and job stability was uncertain. Then the pandemic hit, and no one could have seen that coming! We had to move our wedding from March 2020 to September 2020 and we were even unsure at some points whether the September 2020 date would go ahead with everything in the world changing so rapidly, but luckily, it did and we are happily married now. It may not have been the big day as originally planned, but it was perfect, and we are both so glad that we are now married and can start our own little family as husband and wife.
For people thinking about eternal marriage, I would say wait till you find the right person. You are going to be with this person for a long time so make sure you pick someone with the same values and morals and don’t rush it if it doesn’t feel right. Pray and work on yourself as that will help you find the perfect eternal companion for you later down the line.

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.