Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago, we admitted our first students from Cambodia to BYU-Hawaii. Cambodia as you may know is still emerging out of the trauma of civil war and communist rule that massacred nearly 2 million people in the "killing fields" of that tiny South East Asian country. Now under a new constitution that allows freedom of religion, the Church is making progress. One of those students was Theany Reath whose partial story I have told elsewhere. As a tiny girl Theany witnessed the horror of mass murders. Her mind was filled with terror. Many years later when peace finally came to the country and the Church was allowed to send missionaries, Theany encountered them with a mixture of curiosity, happiness, and anxiety. Their message of love and peace had great appeal to her, but her Buddhist friends and family warned her that she would be assigned to the deepest part of hell if she joined the Church. Worse, she would be reincarnated into the most loathsome creature on earth.

The missionaries persisted and Theany was sure there was something missing in her Buddhist faith. It finally boiled down to her making a critical step, which she dreaded most: to actually address God, her Heavenly Father. Raised to believe in many gods and demons, she hesitated for a long time. She described for me and Carolyn that perilous moment when by herself she knelt down, wanting, needing an answer. She did not know what to say. All she could utter was, "Are you the God of all the gods?" Nothing in her previous experience had prepared her for what happened. The flood of warmth and love and the physical sensation of joy were immediate and powerful. She described them later as a "tree of life" experience. Unmistakenly, like Joseph Smith, she had received a divine communication that changed her life. Her spirit soared and her soul grew and developed in the Church of Jesus Christ. She served a mission and just this past June graduated from BYU Hawaii. On campus she was highly respected. Serving as a Relief Society President, she touched the lives of young women from around the world. Her testimony helped bolster and encourage others to be baptized, including her Muslim roommate, Nina Mu from China. Theany's love for her people and the Lord prompted her to return to her country in spite of the temptations and the offers to seek her fortune and comfort elsewhere.

[Video Clip of Theany]
After graduating from BYU-Hawaii in June, Theany returned home to Cambodia. Just a few days ago by email we received photos of her new LDS husband, just the beginning of the rewards for her faithfulness.

I lived in a ward where one woman was like a beacon of righteousness. Jessica (name has been changed) radiated love and goodness every week in our meetings. She went from person to person, greeting them and loving them—especially those who were “hanging on the edges” of the ward. She invited the lonely to her home, talked to the shy ones, and went out of her way to spread her commitment to Christ and His gospel. It impacted the entire ward for good.

As morning gathers around the city of Kwang Ju, Korea, the small glass-fronted office waits expectantly. It seems to watch as farmers trundle their carts down the narrow road on their way to market. Soon the street is filled with commuters on bicycles dodging scurrying pedestrians to the blaring accompaniment provided by nervous taxi drivers. When the raucous pace slows a bit, two smiling young women take their places outside the building.
Pedestrians walking by the office peer through its windows. The curious stop to examine a painting of a building like no other building they have seen before. Six white spires rise out of a gleaming white structure, and on one of the spires perches an angel with a trumpet to his lips. As they stop to look, one of the young ladies, a sister missionary, steps up to invite them inside the Kwang Ju Visitors Center.
Entering the center from the busy street, visitors are greeted by full-time missionaries. The tour begins with four paintings illustrating the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
In fluent Korean the missionaries bear their testimonies before a diorama of Joseph’s first vision. Next, a series of pictures and scriptural quotations explain the necessity of prophets.
The Book of Mormon is introduced by a painting of Moroni delivering the plates to Joseph Smith. In the Book of Mormon room there are eight-foot replicas of the Bible and the Book of Mormon. These open to display maps explaining where they came from and contain information on why the Book of Mormon is necessary. Finally, Christ’s ministry to the Nephites is pictorially presented.
The tour ends before an 8-by-20-foot mural of the heavens. People who just a few minutes earlier were thinking only about getting to work or the market on time are asked the questions, “Where did you come from? Why are you here? Where are you going after this life is over?” Before leaving the center for the street outside, visitors have had a thorough introduction to the Church, and many make appointments with the missionaries.
At the end of the day the street quiets down and the center closes its doors for another day. But the following morning another curious person will stop to puzzle at a picture of a white, spired building, and the visitors center will welcome him in.

Zipporah Garba of Jos District Nigeria
I grew up with the knowledge that I am creative, and I love it. As I grew up, I became more interested in the production of garments, but I needed to learn the skill of sewing to help me achieve my dreams. I enrolled in the self-reliance program and took the Education for Better Work course. I chose tailoring/fashion design and then applied for the PEF loan. That started my journey into the fashion world. It was a beautiful experience. I learned tailoring in one year and now I can make female garments in African styles and English wears. I made my first wedding dress in 2019 and have been able to create many beautiful designs and patterns.
Currently I teach draft garment patterns to some sisters from the Dogon Dutse Branch, and in my neighborhood, as my own way of giving back to my people. I do not only see myself as teaching but also as ministering. I hope that by the end of 2020 I will have created a style and standard for myself and the garments I make which will be a signature for my work because I hope that it becomes a global brand.
I am so grateful to our Heavenly Father for the privilege of the PEF. It has greatly blessed my life and put me on the pedestal of achieving all my dreams. I am prepared to pursue my dreams including all I learned in the self-reliance group meetings.

Kendall Bean is a concert pianist who has been playing since the age of four. During high school he frequently performed with the high school orchestra and appeared as soloist in performances of Beethoven’s Second Piano Concerto and Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin. He appeared in the Northern California Junior Bach Festival two years in a row, and in 1971 soloed in the Tabernacle with the Mormon Youth Symphony as the winner in the MIA Young Artists Festival. During 1974 he held a solo recital at BYU, won the Wakefield Award for piano performance, and appeared in the Stellar Student-Temple Hill Organ Recital Series.

Kendall had a lot going for him, and it is understandable that he had second thoughts about leaving it behind. While he was at the Mission Training Center, he found himself worrying that the Lord wouldn’t want him to pursue music after his mission. He wondered if he would have to live a completely different life-style, and if so, what his friends would think.

Kendall was fortunate to be writing to a friend who was very encouraging and supportive. “She told me that now wasn’t the time to worry about such things, and in essence, that it was only a tool of the adversary to keep me from the work I was supposed to do. She wrote that if I would serve the Lord with all my might, mind, and strength at this time in my life, when the time came to make these important decisions, I would be entitled to his help and assistance.”

As it turned out, Kendall’s worries were unfounded. The Lord didn’t want him to give up music; to the contrary, Kendall and other missionaries with musical ability were able to use their talents as a missionary tool. Proselyting activities in his mission included open houses and recitals to which many nonmembers came.

Kendall and others were amazed to find that they could practice adequately for these recitals in only an hour or two during free time while the others were playing basketball. “I found that the Lord preserved this talent for me throughout those two years, and it was there for the asking when I needed it. No one in normal life in his right mind would even have considered doing a recital with that little preparation, but when we give our all for the Lord, we can do marvelous things.”

The year after Kendall returned home, he soloed with the Utah Symphony and took second place in the Utah State Fair piano competition and in the State of Utah at the Utah Music Teachers Association competitions. (Incidentally, the person who took first place in both instances was Mack Wilberg, another returned missionary.) Kendall is presently director of the Young Adult Stake Choir in El Cerrito, California. He has received a scholarship for graduate study in music at the University of Texas at Austin.

Receiving gospel ordinances and keeping covenants had a dramatic influence on Diana’s family. Diana and her younger brother, Emmanuel, were the first to join the Church. Before that time, Diana says, her family argued a lot. She knew her parents wanted the best for her and her brothers, but they were strict.
“We felt more fear than love for my dad,” she says.
Several months after she was baptized, her father and older brother, Richard, joined the Church, followed more than a year later by her mother.
“My father changed,” Diana says of her father’s conversion. “When we did things wrong, he would talk to us about it. We had fewer arguments. There was more harmony in our home.”
Covenanting to follow Jesus Christ had drawn them closer to Him and to each other. They had a common purpose: to become an eternal family. A year after Diana’s mother was baptized, the family was sealed in the temple.
“It was a beautiful experience,” Diana says. “I can’t explain how I felt when we walked into the sealing room and saw my parents there. I didn’t want to leave.”

Young Portuguese architect Alcino Silva was working in his office one December afternoon in 1976 when he heard a radio news report about a group of American missionaries who had just arrived in his city of Porto, principal city of northern Portugal. When two of them knocked at his door that evening, he was surprised that they had found his family so quickly.
From the beginning, he and his wife Maria were very receptive investigators. They immediately began living the teachings the Latter-day Saint missionaries taught them, including the law of tithing. Maria, reared as a Catholic, had “never dreamed there could be another church.” But she felt that all that the missionaries taught fit with what she already believed. “When they said the family could be eternal—not just for this life—for me it was the most marvelous thing I could have imagined.”
Then came the invitation to be baptized—and Alcino said no, they were not ready to make that kind of commitment.
His wife felt some inner turmoil over his decision, since she had already prayed about some of the missionaries’ teachings and received a witness of their truth. She didn’t know then that Alcino himself was feeling a battle going on inside his heart and mind. As the missionaries left the Silva apartment that Monday night, he was torn by conflicting desires: “Call them back. … No. … Yes, call them back. … No.”
The missionaries were to return on Friday. But at midweek they felt impressed to visit the Silvas again. “Well,” Alcino told them, “since you’re here, perhaps we can set a date for our baptism.”
Baptized in February of 1977, the Silvas joined a handful of Latter-day Saints in Porto. Both Alcino and Maria have gone on to hold a variety of leadership positions as the Church has grown in their area. He is now president of the Porto Portugal Stake, the second in his country.

I love this gospel and I love street art, so I decided to combine the two. I packed my scriptures, a sketchbook, charcoal pencils, permanent markers, and cans of spray paint in my backpack. My companions laughed and asked, “What are you doing with spray paint?” I explained, “I may not speak the language yet, but I can show others my testimony.”
For the remainder of my mission, I used street art—on paper, not on buildings—and the Spirit to teach others about Christ. And as crazy as it sounds, it worked. Many people didn’t want to hear my message, so I sketched it. Doors and eyes opened when I told them that I did graffiti. They didn’t believe me. They timed me for three minutes, and I sketched the word faith while teaching them about it. Among them were many who felt judged and unloved. I could testify that with faith in Christ we can feel of His love and forgiveness, and He can help us change for the better. He did for me.

When I was about eight years old, I learned a very valuable lesson. It was early spring in the small Utah town where I lived, and some of my eight-year-old friends and I wanted to camp outside one night. My father said, “It’s still very cold at night. You’ll be miserable, and you’ll probably get sick.”
I explained that we thought everything would be fine. My parents let me make my own choice, and my friends and I decided to go ahead with the campout. As it got late the temperature dropped and it became very cold. Instead of having a great time, we were awake and miserable most of the night and, true to my father’s prediction, a day or two later I got sick.
As I was sick at home and missing fun activities, I remembered the advice my father had given me. Every bad consequence he mentioned had happened. I remember thinking, “Wow, my dad is really smart.” I came to realize, even at that young age, that my father had more experience and wisdom than me and if I were more careful in seeking and following his counsel it would make my life happier.

Many years ago, my parents decided to recarpet the house. The night before the new carpet arrived, my mom asked my brothers to remove furniture and rip out bedroom carpets so the new carpet could be installed. My then seven-year-old sister, Emily, was already asleep. So, while she slept, they quietly removed all the furniture from her room, except the bed, and then tore out the carpet. Well, like older brothers sometimes do, they decided to pull a prank. They removed the rest of her belongings from the closet and off the walls, leaving the room bare. Then they wrote a note and tacked it to the wall: “Dear Emily, we moved. We’ll write in a few days and tell you where we are. Love, your family.”

The next morning when Emily did not come for breakfast, my brothers went to find her—there she was, sad and alone behind a closed door. Emily reflected on this experience later: “I was crushed. But what would have happened if I had just opened the door? What would I have heard? What would I have smelled? I would have known I was not alone. I would have known I really was loved. The thought never even crossed my mind to do something about my situation. I just gave up and stayed in my closet crying. And yet if I had simply opened the door.”

My sister made an assumption based on what she saw, but it wasn’t a reflection of the way things actually were. Isn’t it interesting that we, like Emily, can become so weighed down in sadness or hurt or discouragement or worry or loneliness or anger or frustration that it doesn’t even occur to us to simply do something, to open the door, to act with faith in Jesus Christ?

Paris, France, was a dark place in many ways in 1939. The defeat of our soldiers had already begun, and a stream of Parisians began abandoning the city. By the summer of 1940, Germany had occupied France.
My father was requisitioned under the Service du Travail Obligatoire (Compulsory Work Service) and sent to Germany to work in a factory. Mom and I stayed together, working odd jobs to make ends meet through the difficult years of the occupation.
One day on the way home from work in the summer of 1944, I rode my bike through the Place de la Concorde and found myself in the middle of a battle. German tanks crowded the square, and confusion reigned as shots came from all sides, including from rooftops. A German soldier grabbed me by the arm and shoved me behind his tank, saving my life.
After that, change came quickly. The Allied armies soon entered and retook Paris. France celebrated, but Mom and I could not participate in the general outburst of joy. We had heard no news of Dad. French prisoners slowly returned, but we wondered how those who had worked in German factories had fared.
One night, without notice, Dad arrived exhausted and unshaven. He told us about his miraculous escape from Germany and his journey on foot, by bicycle, and via train through Hungary and Czechoslovakia.
Our family was together again, and our joy was full.

Things were all set for a really fun weekend. My friend Tara and I had set up a girls-ask group date with some young men in our stake, and we were excited. A popular movie had just been released from theaters to DVD, and we were going to watch it all together at a friend’s house.
And then Nathan, my date, called.
“You know, Jennifer,” he said, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should do something else tonight.”
A panicky feeling gripped my chest. Was Nathan backing out of the date?
“Umm, what do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“Well,” he continued, “I think that movie is just going to be watching hours of battles. Could we do something else instead?”
The panicky feeling left as I realized he was right. The movie, even though it was popular and didn’t have a bad rating, did have a lot of violence in it.
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “You got it.”
I called Tara, and we decided to have a board game night instead. It ended up being much more fun and social than staring at the TV for a couple of hours.
I feel so grateful that Nathan was willing to tell me how he really felt about the movie. His high standards were a great example to me and pushed my standards even higher. Since then, I’ve avoided a lot of other movies that, when I stop and think about it, aren’t very uplifting or fun, even if the rating isn’t that bad or if they’re really popular. I also never felt offended that Nathan didn’t like our original activity. That has given me the strength to speak up in situations when my standards are at stake. Nathan didn’t offend anyone by being honest about his feelings, and so I learned that, even if some people do take offense, I shouldn’t worry about standing up for my values either.

“Come on downstairs, everyone!” Mom called. “It’s time for family home evening!”
Sarah reluctantly closed her book and joined her sister and brother as they went into the family room. Family home evening was fun, but she didn’t think it was as exciting as the adventure story she was reading.
After Dad welcomed everyone, Audrey led the family in a song and Tyler gave the opening prayer. Sarah waited for Dad to announce who was giving the lesson. Instead, he said, “We’re going to practice what we would do in an emergency. You have two minutes to get ready and be in the car. Get whatever you would need if you were going to be gone for three days. Go!”
Dad, Mom, Audrey, Tyler, and Sarah jumped up. Sarah dashed to her room, and then stood in the middle of it looking around. What would she need? Clothes! She pulled clothes out of her drawer and put them in a small bag. There wasn’t room for much more, but she stuffed her pajama pants in too, and then remembered her glasses case and the elastic bands for her braces. Would she need a blanket? Or a pillow? She grabbed both.
Two minutes isn’t very long, and Sarah didn’t feel ready when Dad said, “Get in the car, everybody! Bring whatever you have and let’s go!”
Sarah, Audrey, and Tyler ran out to the car, threw in their stuff, and piled into the seats.
Audrey called back into the house, “Mom, I forgot my tennis shoes—will you grab them on your way out?”
Tyler spilled sunflower seeds into his seat-belt buckle, and Dad had to help him dig them out so the seat belt could fasten. “Why did you bring an open bag of sunflower seeds?” Dad asked.
“That’s my food,” Tyler said.
The family van pulled out of the driveway a moment later. “How did we do?” Dad asked. “We got out in good time, but are we prepared for three days away from home?”
“Mom, you got me two different shoes,” Audrey complained. “I can’t wear these.”
“Sorry,” Mom said. “I was trying to pull all the coats out of the closet, and I couldn’t see the shoes very well. At least there’s a right and a left shoe, even if they don’t match.”
“I got some clothes and a blanket, but I forgot my contact lens case and a brush,” Audrey said. “I did remember my toothbrush, though.”
“Oops,” Tyler said. “I guess I’ll have to borrow yours. But I got clothes and a Book of Mormon—except it’s in French. I picked up the wrong one off the bookshelf.”
“I brought my coat too, because I didn’t know where we were going,” Sarah said. “I saw a flashlight in my room, so I brought that, but I didn’t get anything to eat.”
“We have food in the 72-hour (3-day) kits I put in the car,” Dad said. “Do you remember we put those together last year? And there are tents in the duffle bag. Those are always by the back door.”
“Dad, I know we have things ready, but I don’t know where everything is kept,” Audrey said. “Maybe you should show us where to find stuff in case you aren’t at home and the rest of us have to leave.”
“That’s a very good idea, Audrey,” Mom replied. “I’m not sure that I could find everything in a hurry myself. I knew I wanted to get important papers and my scriptures, but I wasn’t very organized. I grabbed bread and peanut butter and apples, but I didn’t have time to fill the cooler with water, so I just pulled jugs of apple cider and milk out of the fridge.”
“Ugh, warm milk?” Tyler asked.
“We’d have to drink it up fast,” Mom said. “Maybe we ought to put some sealed water containers in the garage, in case we need to leave quickly. I’d never thought of that before.”
“Why don’t we go get an ice-cream cone and talk about what we learned tonight?” Dad said.
“I know one thing I want to do,” Sarah said. “It took me a while to decide what to get. Even though I knew it wasn’t for real, I was still scared, and I had a hard time thinking of what I needed. I want to plan what I would gather up ahead of time.”
“I would definitely want a brush,” Audrey said.
“And I would want something more than sunflower seeds,” Tyler said.
Dad nodded. “Let’s all make a list this week of the things we would need if we had to leave suddenly and be gone for three days. Next Monday night we can go over our lists and decide how to get organized so we are prepared to grab items and go. We will probably never need to do that—but if we do, we’ll be ready.”
While she was eating her ice-cream cone, Sarah decided she had been wrong about something. She didn’t miss her exciting book at all tonight; family home evening could definitely be an adventure!

The example of a faithful pioneer sister illustrates this truth. Mary Lois Walker was married at age 17 to John T. Morris in St. Louis, Missouri. They crossed the plains with the Saints in 1853, entering the Salt Lake Valley shortly after their first anniversary. On their journey they had suffered the privations typical of other Saints. But their sufferings and adversity did not end when they reached the Salt Lake Valley. The following year Mary, then 19, wrote: “A son was born to us. … One evening when he was two or three months old … something whispered to me, ‘You will lose that little one.’”
During the winter the baby’s health declined. “We did all we could, … but the baby grew steadily worse. … On the second of February he passed away … and so I drank the bitter cup of parting from my own flesh and blood.” But her trials were still not over. Mary’s husband was also stricken, and three weeks after losing her baby, he died.
Mary wrote: “So was I, while yet in my teens, bereft in the short period of 20 days, of my husband and my only child, in a strange land hundreds of miles from my blood kin and with a mountain of difficulty before me … and I wished that I too, might die and join my loved one[s].”
Mary continues: “One Sunday evening I was taking a walk with my friend. … I was reminded of [my husband’s] absence and my intense loneliness, and as I wept bitterly I could see, as it were in mental vision, the steep hill of life I should have to climb and felt the reality of it with great force. A deep depression settled upon me, for the enemy knows when to attack us, but our [Savior, Jesus Christ,] is mighty to save. Through … the help given of the Father, I was able to battle with all the force which seemed to be arrayed against me at this time.”
Mary learned at the tender age of 19 that the Atonement gives us the assurance that all things that are unfair in this life can and will be made right—even the deepest sorrows.

Elder John R. Lasater, formerly of the Seventy (1987–92), told of an incident that occurred while he was traveling in Morocco. A car had injured one of the lambs belonging to a shepherd, and according to local law, the shepherd was entitled to 100 times its value. His interpreter said, “But the old shepherd will not accept the money. They never do because of the love [they have] for each of [the] sheep.” Elder Lasater then observed the old shepherd pick up the injured lamb, place it in a pouch in the front of his robe, stroke its head, and call it by name. The interpreter told him, “All of his sheep have a name, for he is their shepherd, and the good shepherds know each one of their sheep by name.”

Elder Lasater continued, “Do we understand the personal nature of the shepherd’s call? … Do they know us as true shepherds who love them, who willingly and freely give time and attention to their needs, and in that marvelous process, instill the confidence and security so greatly needed in God’s children today?” (“Shepherds of Israel,” Ensign, May 1988, 74–75).

Personal Example
God has given me many round-pen opportunities in my life, experiences that have blessed me by stretching me and causing me to rely more fully on Him: the round pen of my mission as a young missionary in Japan, the round pen of marriage, the round pen of fatherhood, the round pen of my career in Japan, the round pen of losing loved ones early due to tragic accidents and disease, and, most recently, the round pen of the Seventy and the Presiding Bishopric.
When I was called to be a Seventy, I was ­humbled and overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy. I was invited to begin the journey of becoming a special witness of Jesus Christ in all the world. The natural man in me was overwhelmed. I did not buck or try to jump the fence, but it was not long before I was on my knees, giving God two eyes with more intensity than at any other time in my life. I experienced for myself what Presi­dent Nelson had taught: “When you spiritually stretch beyond anything you have ever done before, then His power will flow into you.”
I began to understand what the Lord required, the changes that I needed to make to be what He was calling me to be. Because of His grace I felt a release of pressure—a rest, if you will—and a peaceful reassurance of His love.

Hung Hseng Chr (pronounced Hung Sheng Chur) sat on the grass by the edge of the river and watched the water lapping on the rocks. The sun felt hot against his skin, and the air was thick and humid. A tear ran down his cheek, and he brushed it quickly away with the back of his hand.
Hseng Chr’s ancestors had lived in Taiwan long before the Chinese people had come from the mainland to settle the island. He was proud of his people, for they had once been great warriors, and he wanted to be strong and brave, as they had been.
But it was hard to be brave when his sister, Hung Mei Lin (pronounced Hung May Leen), was so sick. She was in the hospital in Tai Tung, and the doctors didn’t know what was wrong with her except that she had a terrible fever. They had said that there was nothing more that they could do. The last time Hseng Chr had seen her, she had looked as still and frail as a bundle of old rice straw.
“Hello,” said a voice.
Hseng Chr looked up and saw the dark eyes and smiling face of Aunt Hung. She was his father’s sister, and she had recently joined a new church. Hseng Chr remembered that she had been taught by two young men from America who were called Mormon missionaries. Since that time, his aunt hadn’t visited them so often; every time she did, she and his father got into an argument about religion.
“Hello,” Hseng Chr answered her now in a dull voice.
His aunt sat on the grass beside him and gave him a long, hard hug. He suddenly felt better, as he always did when she came to visit. “I was thinking about Mei Lin,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “So was I.”
“I don’t want her to die.”
His aunt gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to ask your father to let my friends give Mei Lin a blessing.”
Hseng Chr stared at his aunt in surprise. “A blessing?” he asked. “What is a blessing?”
“Well,” said his aunt slowly, as if she was trying to explain something very difficult. “A blessing is a special prayer given by men who hold the priesthood.”
Hseng Chr was even more confused. “What is the priesthood?”
“It is the power and authority to act in the name of God. These men—these friends of mine—will pray for Mei Lin, and if God wants her to live and if we believe that God can save her, she will live.”
A strange feeling came over the boy. It was as though something frightened him and exhilarated him at the same time. He knew that he wanted Mei Lin to have a priesthood blessing so that she would get well.
He waited on the grass as Aunt Hung rose and walked toward the house. He watched as she opened the door and called Father’s name. He saw the stern face and stooped shoulders of his father as the door swung open, but he was too far away to hear the words that his aunt spoke. Father shook his head and turned away. Aunt Hung talked some more, her hand on Father’s arm, her face turned up to his. Father shrugged his shoulders and went back inside the house.
Aunt Hung came partway back and waved for Hseng Chr to follow. “He gave his permission,” she called. “Let’s hurry!”
A little while later he stood at his sister’s bedside while two young men from America laid their hands on her head. Their fingers looked long and white against her black hair. They spoke in a language that he couldn’t understand, but as they spoke, a warm feeling came into his chest. When the blessing was over, he and his aunt walked home silently, the hot sun beating down upon their backs.
At suppertime Hseng Chr’s whole family went to visit Mei Lin, as they had at every suppertime for the past week. The boy had grown used to his stomach growling at him all the way to the hospital and back. He didn’t mind the hunger anymore, for lately when he ate, the food seemed to get stuck partway down.
Hseng Chr couldn’t keep from hurrying. The closer his family got to the hospital, the faster his feet moved. Finally he just couldn’t hold them back. He left Father and Mother behind with the younger children and ran the last block by himself. He dashed up the steps and into the hospital. He tore down the hallway and burst into Mei Lin’s room. He stopped. The bed was empty.
He stood for a long moment and stared, not believing his eyes: Mei Lin was sitting in a chair beside her bed, looking at pictures in a book. Her dark eyes were clear, her skin was back to its normal healthy color, and her arms no longer hung limply at her sides. Suddenly he realized that Aunt Hung had been right. There really was such a thing as power from God. He would see his aunt again soon and ask her to explain more about the priesthood.
Mei Lin looked up at him and smiled. Hseng Chr ran forward, his hands reaching for hers.

One yesterday special to young women is the birthday of our own organization, when President Brigham Young called his older daughters together and counseled them to turn their heads from the extravagant and foolish fashions of the world and to turn their hearts to the ways of the Lord. “Retrench,” he said, “retrench in everything that is bad and worthless, and improve in everything that is good and beautiful” (The Improvement Era, May 1969, p. 1)—a message needed more today than ever before.
This was the birth of the Young Ladies Retrenchment Society, and it started to grow from that moment. In one place, as the association began, the minutes were recorded to say, “A large and respectable congregation was in attendance.” However, a closer look at the minutes showed only two people were present—the newly called president and her secretary. But the secretary defended her entry by saying: “The minutes are correct. The president is very large, and I am certainly respectable.”

Let me share with you my own experience with respect to race issues. As I indicated, I grew up in Logan, Utah, which at the time had very little racial diversity. My initial interaction with Blacks was through athletic competitions and Boys Nation.

In the summer of 1957, when I was almost seventeen years old, I was elected from Utah Boys State to be one of the two senators to attend Boys Nation in Washington, DC.28 Our accommodations were at the University of Maryland at College Park. At breakfast on the first morning, suddenly most of the young men from the South stood on their chairs and sang the song “Dixie.” I did not have a clue what was going on, but I could see that the one African American from the Northeast was visibly uncomfortable. This concerted action seemed very inappropriate, but I did not understand all the implications. One of the reasons I was surprised is because in my home, kindness and fairness for all Heavenly Father’s children were emphasized, particularly by my mother.

For more than twenty years, Sister Cécile Pelous, a member of the Cergy-Pontoise Branch, Paris France Stake, has worked for the finest fashion houses in Paris—Dior, Cardin, and Ricci. She designs and makes dresses for the wealthiest women in the world.
But since 1986, this graceful, dynamic women has used her glamorous career as a means to do quite a different work. She spends three months every year serving the destitute of India. Working in the impoverished suburbs of Calcutta and in the orphanages of Bengal, she dedicates all of her savings, along with donations from French friends, to the relief of poor children—with the assistance of local people of goodwill.
Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.
Eleven years later, in July 1986, Cécile took her first trip to India. “I went to Calcutta during vacation, with the idea of helping my neighbor,” she says. “I took with me my first-aid certificate, my goodwill, and my suitcases packed with medicines.” She had read about and had heard lectures describing conditions in India. “I knew there was plenty to do,” she says.
The work she found to do was mostly among the elderly, babies, and handicapped children of Calcutta. “I found opportunities to get busy and stretch myself. Dirty clothes and sheets had to be boiled and washed, meals prepared, patients fed in night shelters and almshouses, and medical care given,” she says. “The dying had to be washed, and warmth and affection had to be given them to help them leave this world. There were babies to change and feed who were so weak that you would wish you could force your own health into their bodies.” She worked first with Mother Theresa’s Sisters of Mercy and then with other groups.
“I am not a heroine,” Cécile says. “My experience in India is one of love and friendship.”
During that first trip to India, Cécile also discovered a home for one hundred elderly people, most of them bedridden. “There were only two Catholic missionaries to cater to the needs of all, and one of them had been sick for three days. When another volunteer and I arrived, we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work,” she says. “Sister Thérésina, one of the missionaries, kissed me and said, ‘The Lord has sent you!’ and I believed her.”