Gospel Story Finder

The second story is a personal one. Shortly after I was baptized at age eight, I started taking piano lessons. I had completed my first year of lessons when the Depression had its full impact on our family and we could not afford the lessons any longer. But I continued to practice the piano.

Not only did I practice the pieces in my piano book; I also began to make up my own little songs. It took me a month or two to improvise my first little piece of music. I was elated with this; in fact I took the trouble to write it down. I called my creation “Opus 1, No. 1.”

My mother thought it was nice and said, “Why don’t you play it for your teacher at school?” Well, my classroom teacher at school didn’t know very much about music, so she said, “Why don’t you play it for the class?” All of a sudden I became very famous in the third grade as a composer of a piano piece.

As a result of the recognition I decided to write another piece. So I improvised for a few days and wrote down my second piece. After four years, I had written down about ten pieces, all for the piano.

Then, when I was twelve, I made a startling discovery. Looking back through one of my old piano lesson books, I discovered that my “Opus 1, No. 1” wasn’t really mine after all, It was page 25 of the book. I had subconsciously absorbed this piece and thought it to be my own work.

I was devastated. I thought my career as a composer was going to end in fraud. There was one thing unique in my version—I had changed it to a different key. But even that isn’t very difficult. I began to wonder where the other nine pieces had come from.

For an hour or so I went through all my music books, I found that my “No. 2” had a little piece of “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam” in it, and “No. 3” had a little bit of another piece. But none of the last nine was actually taken totally from another source, as “No. 1” was. As I had practiced my skill, I had become more original, more creative.

“Ahhhh!” Oliver cried. He jumped into Mom and Dad’s bed. “A monster is after me!”
“You had a bad dream,” Mom said. “The monster isn’t real.” She put her arm around him. They snuggled tight.
Oliver shivered. “It was really tall. It had yellow eyes and green teeth,” he said. “I said a prayer. But I could still see it coming!”
“I’m glad you asked Heavenly Father for help,” Dad said. “What else can you do?”
“What do you mean?” Oliver said.
“Remember when you gave a talk in Primary? You prayed for help. But is that all you did?”
“I practiced,” Oliver said. “I stood in front of the mirror. I said my talk over and over.”
“And you gave a great talk!” Dad said.
“And remember when you lost your toy car?” Mom said. “You prayed to find it. Then did you just stay on your knees?”
“No. I searched and searched. I looked under my bed. Then I looked behind the couch.”
“And there it was!” Mom said.
“So,” Dad said, “how can you get rid of the monster?”
Oliver imagined himself in a suit of armor.
“First,” he said, “pray.”
“Good. And then?”
“I can take some deep breaths. And then I can sing ‘I Am a Child of God.’”
“That’s a great plan!” Mom said. “Now back to bed.”
The next morning Oliver ran to talk to Mom and Dad.
“I had another dream about the monster,” he said. “But I said a prayer and followed my plan. And the monster went away!”
“I’m so glad the monster went away,” Dad said. “Heavenly Father really does hear your prayers.”

As the one-year anniversary of their baptism drew near, the ‘Akau‘ola family contemplated the wonderful blessings of the temple. Siope said, “If the blessings of the temple are so much greater than those we have received from being baptized, imagine how wonderful temple blessings must be.” Despite their desire to be sealed, the temple in Tonga was undergoing renovations, so they would have to wait over a year or make an expensive trip to New Zealand or Fiji to attend the temple.
The family thought hard and prayed about what to do. They eventually decided to take out a small loan. While waiting for approval, the bank processing their loan was destroyed in a fire. All loans would be delayed until the following year.
Siope and Liu were feeling discouraged. They sat together in their small living room and prayed for a miracle. As they prayed and counseled together, the answer came: “I saw in my mind’s eye the family van smiling at us and knew this was the answer to our prayers,” Siope said. They were able to sell the van the next day and purchase airline tickets to Fiji for their family of five.
They arrived very late into Nadi, Fiji, with three tired children and a long drive ahead of them to the temple in Suva. Liu said, “I learned that the more we try to get closer to the Lord’s house the more Satan tries to get us to give up before we get the blessing.”
While sitting in the airport trying to decide what their next step would be, a woman helped them arrange lodging and a ride to Suva the next day for a fraction of the usual rates. They felt that God had sent an angel to help them.
They arrived at the temple the next day. “As we entered the temple I felt a peace and calm in my heart,” Liu said. “I have never seen clean and white in my life like in the temple. A thought came to my mind: If the temple is a house made by man and it is so beautiful, then how wonderful must the home be that Heavenly Father has promised us!”
Their experiences in the temple were life-changing for the family. Liu said, “The whole time we were in Fiji, I experienced the love of our Heavenly Father for us. When we choose to follow Him, He really takes good care of us.”

I remember the winters in New England being unbelievably cold. In Calais, Maine, there was a small grocery store not more than 40 feet from our apartment. One morning we ran from our door to that store, and the cold felt like fire on my face. My skin was left frost burned for several days afterward. It was 60 below with the wind chill factor, the radio had said.
Calais was my first area on my mission.
On one of those cold mornings my companion, Elder Bond, and I had an appointment with a family that lived in a town which was over 20 miles away.
We walked out into the cold to our car. It was nearly buried in snow. Elder Bond handed me the keys.
“Start it,” he said. “I’ll sweep it off.”
The car door wouldn’t open.
“It’s broken.”
“Just frozen,” Elder Bond answered. He had a bright red and green checked scarf wrapped around his face. You could only see his eyes.
I bent down and looked at the door. I’d never seen a frozen car door handle before, but then there were a lot of things here that I hadn’t seen before. I’d never seen it this cold before for one thing. At least I thought it was cold. The local people didn’t think it was too bad. “Cold, naw, t’ain’t cold yet. Why this is shirt-sleeve weather. If it gets any warmer the apple trees are going to start to blossom.”
Elder Bond set his broom down and walked over to the car door. He hit the handle with his hand and then opened the door. His eyes narrowed, and I knew that behind the scarf he was smiling.
“Nothin’ to it,” he said.
I slipped down into the seat, pumped the gas a couple of times, and turned the key. We had an electric car warmer, and the engine started right off. Warm air started coming through the heater, defrosting the window. Elder Bond got into the car.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“I don’t think we’d better.”
“What’s wrong?”
I pointed to the gas gauge.
“Empty.”
He pulled the scarf from his face and leaned over.
“It’s not quite empty. It’s just above the empty mark.”
“It’s not enough.”
Neither of us had any money for gas. It was the end of the month, and our checks from home were a week overdue.
“We just can’t go.”
Elder Bond wrinkled his face.
“I hadn’t thought of this. I had really strong feelings about going.”
He bowed his head and sat there for nearly a full minute, not moving. He looked up and smiled.
“We’ll be all right,” he said.
“What?”
“We’re going.”
“I don’t think we should go. If we run out we might have to walk 20 miles.”
“Sometimes, elder,” he said, “you just have to trust.”
“Crazy,” I mumbled and put the car in gear. The discussion with the family went very well. They were ready for a commitment. We set the date with them for baptism in two weeks. On the way back it started to snow lightly. I watched the gas gauge sink until it stopped.
“Any minute now.” We were ten miles from Calais. It would be a miserable ten miles if we had to walk it.
For another three miles the car kept moving.
“Maybe this will be like the widow’s vessel of oil,” I said.
Elder Bond smiled and then began telling about his girl friend for the 3,000th time. I could tell you exactly where she lived back then. How old she was. What her favorite color was. That she cooked wonderful lasagna. And I could also tell you, now, that she married someone other than Elder Bond just a couple of months later.
Just then the car sputtered and then killed. I drove it to a stop at the side of the road.
“Well, I guess miracles don’t happen anymore, at least not today for us.”
“Have faith, elder,” Elder Bond opened his door and got out.
“We’d better start right now. It’s getting dark. We’ll hope our checks come tomorrow.”
Just then a car pulled in behind us and stopped.
A small man got out and walked toward us.
“Trouble?” he asked.
“Out of gas,” I said.
“I have a gas can in my trunk. I can take you into town and bring you back,” he said smiling.
“You can give us a ride into Calais. We live in Calais, but we don’t have enough money for gas.”
“We’re expecting checks in the mail tomorrow.”
The man smiled again: “I know how that is. Get in.”
We got into his car. It was clean and it was about ten years old. He reached over and shook our hands.
“I’m Mr. Hendricks.”
We introduced ourselves to him.
“Elder, elder, are you boys some kind of ministers?”
“We’re Mormon missionaries.”
The man was suddenly silent. He pulled the car around and started toward Calais.
“Tell me about your church,” he finally said.
Elder Bond began explaining the plan of salvation. When we reached Calais the man pulled into a service station and took out the can. He had it filled and put it back in the car.
“We appreciate this,” Elder Bond said on the way back to the car. The man was silent again for a few minutes.
“Funny about me stopping. I just had a strong feeling I should.”
He pulled the car in behind ours and stopped.
“We buried my daughter yesterday. She was only one year old. The funeral, it didn’t seem right. It didn’t leave much hope. That plan of salvation you mentioned, would you come and tell my family about it some afternoon? We’ll give you dinner.”
“We’d be more than happy to share that with you,” Elder Bond said. “When would be good for your family?”
“How about Saturday?”
Elder Bond smiled: “Great.”
“Can you come at six?”
“Yes.”
He took out a notebook and pencil.
“If you don’t have enough gas then, call me.” He handed the paper to Elder Bond. “This is my address and my telephone number. We’ll be expecting you.”
We poured the gas into the car, all five gallons of it, said our good-byes and thank-yous and then started for Calais. The gas gauge was well above empty. We had more gas than when we’d started.

I had not planned on becoming a single parent of four children in my mid-20s and found myself reeling. I had a modest home to care for, four small children, and no post-high school education. I wondered how I would ever financially support my young family. My answers did not come in days or months but over many years of obeying one prompting after another.
Fortunately I had the habit of turning to the Lord in times of trouble. One night the answer came clearly: “Go to school.” I wondered how this would be possible with the financial obligations I had, so I spoke to my parents and my bishop. They agreed that going to school was the right course, and within a few weeks I was enrolled at a local university, where I earned a degree in elementary education with a special education endorsement.
As a teacher, I was still not making enough money to meet the financial demands of my growing children. I continued to petition the Lord about the lack of funds. During a visit with my bishop, he recommended that I go back to school to obtain a master’s degree. I went home, prayed about it, and enrolled back in school the following semester.
Several years later I was prompted to go back to school again. I scheduled the needed tests, interviewed for programs in educational administration, and found myself enrolled, once again, in a master’s program at another local university. Upon its completion, new employment opportunities opened up to me that have enriched my life with new relationships, fostered personal growth, and helped me discover new talents.
In the temple one night, I was sharing my frustration with the Lord that in spite of my efforts, I was still not able to consistently make ends meet. I felt the warmth of heavenly communication reminding me that all my family’s needs had been met, either by my own work or by the generosity of others, and that as long as I remained obedient, we would be cared for. And as I am reminded by Alma 20:4, “I know, in the strength of the Lord [I] canst do all things.”
I am so grateful to Heavenly Father for the promptings to complete my education and the consequent employment opportunities. I am also grateful for all those in my life who have been so thoughtful throughout the years. I’ve learned I can do more than I thought possible with the help of my Heavenly Father. Of equal significance, I’ve learned to receive graciously and to give generously.

President Joseph F. Smith, who took part in the westward trek and in the first 70 years of hardship in this valley, shared this precious overview of the Lord’s protective hand over His Latter-day Saints:
“Our good friends from the east used to come out here in the early days and upbraid us. They said, ‘Why, it is the fulfillment of the curse of God upon you. You have been driven away from the rich lands of Illinois and Missouri, into a desert, into a salt land.’ I said, ‘Yes, we have salt enough here to save the world, thank God, and we may find use for it by and by.’” There was a time when there wasn’t feed for livestock and the beef was so lean there wasn’t enough fat to even make decent soap. “Just then the Lord sent a handful of alfalfa seed into the valley, and Christopher Layton planted it, watered it, and it matured; and from that little beginning, Utah can now produce a richer crop of hay than Illinois or Missouri can do.”

Some years ago a friend named Louis related to me a tender account about his gentle, soft-spoken mother. When she passed away, she left to her sons and daughters no fortune of finance but rather a heritage of wealth in example, in sacrifice, in obedience.
After the funeral eulogies had been spoken and the sad trek to the cemetery had been made, the grown family sorted through the meager possessions the mother had left. Among them, Louis discovered a note and a key. The note instructed: “In the corner bedroom, in the bottom drawer of my dresser, is a tiny box. It contains the treasure of my heart. This key will open the box.”
All wondered what their mother had of sufficient value to place under lock and key.
The box was removed from its resting place and opened carefully with the aid of the key. As Louis and the others examined the contents of the box, they found an individual photo of each child, with the child’s name and birth date. Louis then pulled out a homemade valentine. In crude, childlike penmanship, which he recognized as his own, he read the words he had written 60 years before: “Dear Mother, I love you.”
Hearts were tender, voices soft, and eyes moist. Mother’s treasure was her eternal family. Its strength rested on the bedrock foundation of “I love you.”

Polly and Ruth were blessed by their contributions. Their mutual generosity created a strong bond that lasted their whole lives. When Polly was 77 years old, she was still living in Boston, but she wanted to gather with the Saints in Utah Territory. So Ruth traveled to Boston and accompanied Polly to the Salt Lake Valley in 1857. “Aunt Polly” was beloved among the Saints in Utah until her death in 1866. When Ruth died in 1884, she was buried alongside Polly.7

One of our favorite lessons was about how the Holy Ghost can guide us. We asked our daughter to go into her room. After we counted to three, she could return to the living room and try to find a picture of the Savior. When she was close, we said that she was warm, and when she was far away, we said that she was cold. She was so excited when she found the picture. It was marvelous seeing her understand the importance of being obedient and following the Spirit in order to be close to our Savior.
We concluded by reading Doctrine and Covenants 11:12. By placing our “trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good,” we have found family home evening to be a blessing.

Valerie Wilson, 19, Coventry Ward—I had heard that there was to be some kind of flag ceremony at the entertainment, and frankly I was doubtful. I should explain that the British as a nation are known for their lack of outward emotion. A show of patriotism in any form, short of standing to honour the Queen, is just not British! It may well be that Britain’s extraordinary history of power and influence had had the effect of making the self-conscious British loath to demonstrate their love of country in front of strangers for fear of offending them, and because of this Britishers have simply lost the habit. Whatever the explanation, that night was the first time I have ever heard “Land of Hope and Glory” played just for the sake of it, and it was a glorious moment. I saw girls march proudly, carrying the familiar flags of the United Kingdom. I joined in the cheers with everyone else as we expressed, for the first time in our lives, our deep and sincere love for our country.

During my sophomore year of high school, I became friends with Courtney. Initially I’d known her only by her reputation as “the cool party girl,” but then she was in my math class and we had many mutual friends. I was surprised when she took an instant liking to me and was so willing to become my friend. Because of my standards, I didn’t attend the high school parties she did, and I didn’t fit in with her lifestyle at the time.
But things changed after a few simple conversations. Before I knew it, we were quickly becoming best friends. Courtney began going to parties less and instead began coming over to my house. She would occasionally attend church with my family and me. I was thrilled! I could see that Courtney was thirsty for knowledge about the Church.
I wondered what had prompted her to make these changes in her lifestyle, so I asked her. I will never forget when she told me that she was impressed by my lifestyle and how happy I was all the time. She wanted to be my friend, but she didn’t think I would want to be hers. I found this funny because I used to feel the same way about her.
I believe that as youth in the Church, we should all “stand as witnesses of God at all times” (Mosiah 18:9), because people are watching us. I’m grateful for my opportunity to be an example to Courtney, who was eventually baptized five years after our math class together. I’ve never felt any feeling like I did when I watched Courtney be baptized, and I will never forget the smile on her face as she came out of the waters of baptism.

The childlike faith of a follower of the divine Christ is a choice spiritual gift. It can be enjoyed by young and old. In the early days of the Church, a young boy by the name of Will Cluff, 10 years of age, living in Nauvoo, had a remarkable, pure faith. He had an experience to which many of us can relate.
His family was poor and had only one cow, which they depended on for food. In the spring of 1842 the cow strayed off. One evening in August his father came home very weary and discouraged. He and Will’s brothers had spent much of the summer looking for the cow. Will said, “Father, if you will let me take Charley (an old horse) I will go and find the cow.” His father reluctantly said he could.
Early next morning Will rode to the Big Mound, three miles east and in the prairie country. Here he had often herded cows with other boys from Nauvoo. He got off the horse and, holding it by the bridle, knelt down and fervently prayed the Lord to direct him which way to go to find the cow. He climbed back on the horse and rode south, a course he was impressed to take even though there were numerous bunches of cattle in every direction.
After traveling a few miles in the open prairie and passing hundreds of cattle, Will came to a fence. He dismounted and let down the stake, led his horse in, put up the fence, then rode three miles across the field. He again found himself in the open prairie with numerous bunches of stock in every direction. When he had gone about a quarter of a mile from the field, he rode right on to the cow, feeding alone some distance from any other animals.
Will started to drive the cow in the direction of the city. He arrived late in the evening, full of joy and thankful to his Father in Heaven.

In the performance of home teaching the teacher has a special opportunity to bless the lives of others and lead them to eternal life. An acquaintance of mine told me of an experience that will help to illustrate this point. “Recently,” he said, “a man and his teacher-age son were assigned to our family as home teachers. We knew of the father’s dedication to the gospel but did not know what to expect from his son, although the young man’s appearance and conduct seemed to reflect the same dedication. During their first visit with us, I kept my eye on this young man. Though reasonably quiet, everything that he did or said brought dignity to the priesthood he bore. Soon they learned that our young son had passed away a year ago and that we were expecting another child. From that moment on they were a special part of our lives as they prayed for and encouraged us. At the conclusion of that first visit I asked the young man to offer a prayer. In his prayer he asked the Lord to sustain us in the loss of our son and to bless the child that soon would be born. He specifically prayed that my wife would have no difficulty in delivering the baby. My wife and I were overcome by the sincerity and sensitivity of this young teacher. During the days and weeks that followed these brethren inquired about us regularly (more often than once a month). Following the birth of the baby, the young man, with his father, brought a gift. As we all knelt in prayer the teacher expressed his gratitude to the Lord for the safe delivery of the child.” Here is a young man who understands the importance of the assignment given him by the Lord. Other examples could be given. Home teaching is just one way in which we can use the priesthood to bless the lives of others.

One morning at school, my class was on its way to music class. Some kids from another class were sitting against the wall waiting for their teacher. These kids were in an important class. It was a class for students with disabilities.
As I got closer to them, I noticed that they were trying to give the kids in my class high fives. But no one in my class would high-five them because they looked a little different.
But as I passed them, I gave them all high fives. When I looked behind me, I noticed that other kids in my class were high-fiving them too. That made me feel good.

Four years later, Katie, one of my daughters-in-law, underwent an emergency C-section to deliver twin baby girls at 25 weeks of gestation, too close to the threshold of infant viability for comfort. When the girls were just eight weeks old, Katie was returning home late at night from her daily visit with them in the neonatal intensive care unit of the hospital and was hit and killed by a drunk driver, leaving my son a widower with six children.
My wife was everything to me, and my son’s wife was everything to him. Those were tough times for our family.
I didn’t fully appreciate how great Tanya was and how much I depended on her until she was gone. But we had knelt at an altar in a holy temple, and someone having the sealing power had pronounced blessings upon us. I have clung to the promise of those blessings. I trust in those promised blessings.
Tanya’s death was a crisis of faith for me. I had to decide, “Do I really believe?” Faith is called a gift of God, but it’s also a choice we make—a choice to believe. I chose to believe, and I found out that Moroni was correct when he wrote that we receive no witness until after the trial of our faith (see Ether 12:6). After the trial, the witness did come. My faith was rewarded with a confirming peace of mind. That’s what has enabled me to go forward.
As my second wife, Becky, says: “We need faith the most when we face a crisis. Going to the Lord really is the only answer. It is the way to cope and hope.”
Brother Evans and his wife, Becky, share photos of his daughter-in-law and her twin baby girls.
For a time, I struggled to figure out what was faith and what was hope. Alma describes faith as a “hope for things which are not seen, which are true” (Alma 32:21). Because of my faith in Jesus Christ, I have hope that if I remain faithful and true to my covenants, I can share eternal life with Tanya. I am also grateful for the assurance I have that the Savior is there for each of us. There’s a difference between thinking, “He’s there” and realizing, “He’s there for me.”
My two grandchildren have lasting ill effects from their car accident, and I still grieve Tanya’s absence in my life. I’ll never stop missing her, and the love I have for her is not diminished by the love I have for my second wife. The love has just multiplied.
My son has also remarried. His new wife is Becky’s first cousin once removed. We both married into the same family. What are the odds of that? It’s an amazing coincidence, or maybe it’s not.
Our family has had its share of challenges, but we have also experienced blessings. My son has become one of my heroes. He forgave the drunk driver who killed his wife, and he told her he hoped she would straighten out her life. His two little girls recently celebrated their fifth birthday. They are real miracle babies.
“I am grateful for the assurance I have that the Savior is there for each of us.”
For the past 17 years, I have had the privilege of serving as a patriarch. At first, I was afraid I couldn’t fulfill the calling, but I have learned that the blessings come from the Lord, not the patriarch. There are common themes in patriarchal blessings because our Heavenly Father wants many of the same things for all His children, but each blessing is different, individual, and personal.
One of the purposes of a patriarchal blessing is to help individuals see who they are as children of God and to discern how much their Heavenly Father loves them. As a patriarch, whenever I lay my hands on someone’s head to give them a patriarchal blessing, for just a few precious moments, Heavenly Father allows me to feel the love He has for that individual. It is an overpowering feeling. When I feel how much He loves each blessing recipient, I can feel that He loves me too.
“Nothing brings me greater joy than the promises of the temple, which give me hope that through Christ, I can overcome all trials,” says Brother Evans.
Today, Becky and I focus on the temple. One of the reasons our Lord has given us the temple is to give us a glimpse of Zion. In addition to being a patriarch, I was invited some years ago to serve as a sealer in the temple. That has been another great joy of my life. It is a calling of all happy occasions. Nothing brings me greater joy than the promises of the temple, which give me hope that through Christ, I can overcome all trials.

When I think about connecting with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, an experience I had a while ago comes to mind.
I was looking out my window at a rainstorm, waiting for the sound of it to bring me feelings of peace. Usually when I concentrate on listening to the drops of water hitting the ground, everything else I’m feeling gets washed away for a few precious moments.
Feelings of peace did come, but not nearly as much as I needed. Most of my thoughts were still stuck on the chaos of life. I didn’t understand why this wasn’t helping me feel better.
After a few minutes, a thought hit me. You’re not letting the rain in. With that, I tugged my window open and let the sound wash over me. There was the peace I was seeking. All the rest of my swirling thoughts faded away as I listened to the gentle rain.
I stood there a while before a question came to my mind: Am I letting God and the Savior into my life?
This caught me off guard. It wasn’t something I had thought about before. But the more I pondered that thought, the more it made sense. Letting the rain in brought me peace, and letting my Heavenly Father and my Savior into my life could bring me even more.
Letting the Savior and Heavenly Father in was only the first step. I still had to open my heart to Them. When I first listened to the rain through the window, it was muffled and didn’t provide me the ultimate peace I wanted. And if I hadn’t opened the window to let the sound in, I wouldn’t have felt what I did.
The same goes for all the “windows” of my life. If I have them all shut and locked, how can I truly accept Deity and establish a relationship with Them? How can I feel the Spirit and the peace of Their love wash over me?
Saying that I need to open all my windows is easier than actually doing so. I’ve realized that when I feel disconnected from the Spirit, I have to figure out what is keeping me cut off. Most of the time it’s small things like always being attached to my phone. Or not reading my scriptures as much as I should. Or deciding to follow my own will rather than seeking to know Theirs. Or even getting caught up in all my trials and distancing myself from Them because I think Heavenly Father is not answering my prayers.
Once I determine what’s keeping me from feeling the Spirit, I can choose to stop doing those things, one at a time. I can inch my windows open little by little, inviting Heavenly Father and the Savior in until I can feel Their love surround me.
Loneliness can seem dark and never-ending at times, especially during Christmastime. In those moments when we want to give up, we have to remind ourselves: We are not alone. We just have to be willing to let Them in.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so. His solitary journey brought great company for our little version of that path.”1
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are always there for us. They are reaching out, patiently waiting for us to open our hearts and lives to Them—whether at Christmas or any other time.

While this teaching process was occurring, our other friend, Bernard, walked into our lives. Bernard had first found the Church through a local Facebook ad and he accepted our first phone call invitation to attend church that coming Sunday. It was a joyous day when Bernard and Prince were able to meet on the oak benches in our chapel. Even though there is a small age gap, they clicked so well, and the rapidly growing testimony of Prince touched the heart of Bernard. Elder Hutchason and I watched Bernard quickly came to love all the messages and teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As we taught Bernard each time, we would call him on the phone, and he would answer. Anytime we asked to meet he was so excited he would even close down his shop early to meet us at the chapel to hear another message. Anytime we extended a commitment to read from the scriptures or to pray on his own, he would willingly and faithfully do so. Elder Hutchason and I both knew that we should not procrastinate the day of his baptism.
Even through a very challenging and busy week for everyone, we were still able to have Bernard properly interviewed, baptized, and confirmed in the same week. On that perfect cool Saturday evening of September 18, 2021, I watched as my worthy, spirit-filled companion, Elder Hutchason, guided Bernard into the baptismal font. I cannot express with words how much joy I saw in that man’s smile as Elder Hutchason raised him out of the water. He knew, and so did everyone else in attendance, that his sins had been purified.
By taking this first step, he had become more like our Savior, Jesus Christ, and began a lifelong journey to now go and share his light before mankind that “they may see [his] good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). Bernard was confirmed the following day in sacrament meeting. My favorite part about this is the support of the uplifted right hand from the congregation to support the newest member of their family.

My wife’s mother is an expert in edification. When the children were young and visited their grandma, every visit required a thorough examination. She would say, “Open up your mouth so I can see if you’ve been good.” She then proclaimed her diagnosis: “Oh, I can tell you’ve been good. I can always tell.” No child ever questioned the need for grandma to look inside to see if they had been “good”; it seemed natural that their grandma would not be able to discern their goodness by examining their outward appearance. To see if they had been edified, she needed to look upon the heart.

My mom has made big changes too. She quit smoking and drinking and started paying tithing. I can’t say all our financial problems have been solved, but our bills have always been paid. My mom and I have become great friends, and now she’s my seminary teacher. She went to the temple last summer. Last year she developed a life-threatening illness, and she has had a long, slow recovery. It was scary and hard on us both, but the elders gave her a blessing, and we pulled through it together.

I had set a goal to read all of the magazine, even if I didn’t think I needed a particular article, and that’s why I read “Managing Postpartum Depression: A Gospel Perspective,” in the August 2009 issue.
But when my daughter was born in October of that year, I immediately recognized the symptoms I was experiencing and quickly got the help I needed, as the article suggested. I recovered in just a few months.
The Liahona is more than just a magazine; it is a recipe, a map, a guide, and a compass.
Bertha Viola Rétiz Espino, Mexico