Gospel Story Finder

Fifty-seven years ago, on July 16, 1953, my beloved Jeanene and I knelt as a young couple at an altar in the Manti Utah Temple. President Lewis R. Anderson exercised the sealing authority and pronounced us husband and wife, wedded for time and for all eternity. I have no power to describe the peace and serenity that come from the assurance that, as I continue to live to qualify, I will be able to be with my beloved Jeanene and our obedient children forever because of that sacred ordinance performed with the proper priesthood authority in a house of the Lord.

Our seven children are bound to us by the sacred ordinances of the temple. My precious wife, Jeanene, and two of our children are beyond the veil. They provide a powerful motivation for each remaining member of our family to live so that together we can receive all of the eternal blessings promised in the temple.

When my wife was carrying our third child, our second child was severely ill. Jeanene would hold him on her lap while they did fluoroscopic examinations. She received excessive radiation, and as a result she was unable to have additional children, and the one that she was carrying passed away prematurely. But we have them. They were born to us in the covenant. That is the blessing of the ordinances of the temple. Even though this mortal probation was for different lengths, those who were sealed to us with the holy priesthood through the ordinances of the holy temple will be ours for forever.

I know that I will have the privilege of being with that beautiful wife, whom I love with all my heart, and with those children who are with her on the other side of the veil, because of the opportunities made possible through the eternal ordinances that were performed in the Manti Temple. What a blessing to have once again on the earth the sealing authority, effective not only for this mortal life but for the eternities.

We bowed our heads as Travis said the closing prayer in our Sunday School class.
I had only lived in the ward for a few months, so I did not know much about Travis. I eventually became aware of his slurred speech and slightly awkward walk. From what I understood, he had been hit by a car when he was a small child. As a result, he had suffered some permanent brain damage.
From my first day in the ward, Travis had always been kind to me. He was happy, outgoing, and sincere. He never hesitated to strike up a conversation with me. Because his speech was sometimes slurred, I found it difficult to understand him at first. But gradually I became a better listener, and conversation became easier. However, every once in a while, Travis’s speech was nearly impossible to understand.
This was the case one day as he began to say the prayer. His words were garbled and incomprehensible. I felt a giggle swell up inside me. I sensed a chorus of laughter about to erupt from my classmates. It seemed hilarious that we couldn’t understand the prayer.
But the inclination to laugh suddenly ceased. Instead I felt tears pushing on my closed eyelids. I still could not understand Travis’s prayer, but I realized Heavenly Father did. Heavenly Father heard each word with perfect clarity. Travis knew this. He knew Heavenly Father understood his prayer. Travis prayed with sincerity and, I believe, a knowledge that he was in communication with God. Then I knew I could not understand Travis’s prayer with my ears, but I could with my heart.

Dan was born in Flintshire, Wales, on August 4, 1811. After receiving a college education there, he immigrated to the United States and became the owner and captain of a little river streamer called The Maid of Iowa. He operated it as a freight and passenger boat on the Mississippi River above St. Louis, Missouri. One day as a group of converts to the Church were leaving his boat at the wharf in Nauvoo, they were welcomed by the Prophet. Dan stood quietly watching the greeting. Suddenly the Prophet left the group and walked over to Dan. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he said, “God bless this little man!”
Dan was so touched by those few words of praise that he decided to investigate the church that had such a thoughtful man as its leader. To the many converts to whom he preached the gospel in the British Isles he always declared: “I have come in obedience to the counsel of the martyred Prophet, as a messenger to my native land.”

As a volunteer for my local council in the Community Learning and Development department, I help people become self-sufficient by teaching them computer skills and helping them with their CVs.
Through this work, I was asked to spearhead genealogy classes at local libraries. Wonderfully, this opportunity coincided with the opening of a family history centre at the Greenock Branch meetinghouse.
The genealogy classes are well attended, and my first objective was to have everyone register at familysearch.org. I walk through the site processes with participants and help them start their own research for ancestors. I informed attendees that the free website was the largest database for records, and that FamilySearch belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
During breaks between courses the participants would bring in refreshments and I heard them discussing what to give me to drink. I knew they knew I was a member of the Church.
After each course, participants receive a copy of the My Family: Stories That Bring Us Together pamphlet, with the details for the Greenock Branch Family History Centre.
In 2019, we opened the meetinghouse as a community centre to promote family research, self-reliance courses, and Bible studies. I built a Facebook page to build relationships with our neighbours in the community. As of now, we have 400 members and counting.
We networked the page with local organisations, including local governments. Through this, we received visits from the local council leaders, and were approached and asked if we could hold ESOL language classes.
With the permission of the branch president, we invited the leaders of the Community Learning and Development department and gave them a tour of our chapel building. A further tour was set up for Ukranian and Afghan refugees, and thereafter, the ESOL language course began. Local council leaders still stop by occasionally to see how the ESOL classes are progressing.
In early 2023, a branch of the Scottish government gave us a visit to review how the Ukrainians and Afghans were doing, and we gave them a tour. This was a positive step in bringing the Church into a good light with the government. From this, we have built positive relationships with our local councils.
https://www.facebook.com/GREENOCKcommunityresourcecentre

Olivia burst through the door after school. “Mom! I’m supposed to write about the strongest person I know! Who should I write about?”
Mom looked up from her computer. “The strongest person you know, huh? Well, how do you know if someone is strong?”
Olivia flexed her arms. “They have really big muscles!”
“What else?”
Olivia thought for a moment. “Um … they can lift really heavy things.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Mom said. “When is your paper due?”
“In two weeks,” Olivia said. “I’ll keep thinking about it.”
Later that night, Olivia watched her little brother, Reese, play with their stepdad, Trevor.
“Can you lift me over your head?” Reese asked.
“Sure!” Trevor swung Reese into his arms and held him up high. “How long do you want to stay up there?”
Reese giggled. “Forever!”
Olivia laughed too.
At first she hadn’t been sure about Trevor, after her parents divorced and Mom married Trevor. He was all right, but he wasn’t her dad. She had clashed with Trevor over a lot of things, especially when he tried to give her chores. But then she started getting along better with him. He liked a lot of cool things, like biking and running. And she could see that Trevor really cared about her family.
Reese started flapping his arms. Trevor had been holding him up there for so long that Reese was pretending to be a bird. Suddenly Olivia had an idea. She ran to the kitchen.
“I’m going to write about Trevor!” Olivia said. “He’s been getting ready for his half marathon, so he’s really strong.”
“I think that’s great!” Mom said. “Are you going to tell him about it?”
Olivia shook her head. “I’ll show him when it’s all done and graded. I want it to be a surprise.”
After dinner Olivia got out a clean sheet of paper. She wrote, “The Strongest Person I Know” at the top. Over the next two weeks, Olivia wrote a little bit every day. At first, she wrote about how Trevor lifted heavy weights and went on long runs.
Then she started noticing all the things he did for their family, like helping Olivia shop for silly hairbows the night before her school’s “crazy hair day.” Or when Mom got sick and he stayed home from work to take care of the family. That week, Trevor hadn’t been able to train for his half marathon, even though it was only a week away. He was too busy doing laundry, cooking meals, and helping Mom feel better. But Trevor said he didn’t mind. “Family comes first,” he told Olivia.
Olivia realized that there were many ways to be strong, like doing hard things. She wrote about how being strong meant choosing the right. It meant making sacrifices to help those you love.
On the day of Trevor’s half marathon, the whole family came to cheer him on. Olivia found Trevor stretching before the race and handed him her essay. The teacher had given her an A+!
“I wrote this about you,” she said.
Trevor read it. There were tears in his eyes. “Thank you!” he said. “This means so much to me.”
Olivia grinned. “Good luck,” she said. “We’ll see you at the finish line!”
Mom, Reese, and Olivia watched excitedly as runners made it to the end of the race. When they saw Trevor, they waved and cheered.
Nobody cheered louder than Olivia.

In 2012, I was part of a sailing trip from Tahiti to Hawaii. The trip took almost 20 days. Before setting out, our crew trained hard to prepare for anything. But even with all our training, we hit a storm that was unlike anything I had experienced before. The sky was dark, and rain came down hard as the wind whipped through the air. Fear crept into my heart as I thought about the unknown. But then, I remembered a priesthood blessing my father had given me before I left. He blessed me that I would be safe and watched over. I also knew that my family would be praying for my safety. Holding onto that blessing and the prayers of my family brought me a sense of calm, and I knew that whatever came, we would make it through.

The storm eventually passed, and we continued our journey to Hawaii, grateful and a little wiser. This experience reminded me that we must regularly assess where we are and keep our focus on where we’re headed, especially when challenges arise. Sometimes, it’s only by taking a step back and looking with an eternal perspective that we gain the peace and strength to move forward.

Imagine a young elder, whom we will call Bill. He learned this in Primary. He believed it then; he believes it now. For some time, however, Bill has been plagued with pornography. He has found its allurements powerful and addictive. After each encounter with this sleazy stuff, Bill has felt sickened, ashamed, and worthless inside.

Bill attended general conference a few weeks ago. In the priesthood session, he heard President Hinckley say:
There is not a man or boy in this vast congregation tonight who cannot improve his life. And that needs to happen. After all, we hold the priesthood of God. . . .
With this priesthood comes a great obligation to be worthy of it. We cannot indulge in unclean thoughts. We must not partake of pornography. We must never be guilty of abuse of any kind. We must rise up above such things. “Rise up, O men of God!” and put these things behind you, and the Lord will be your guide and stay.12
Bill decided, “It is time for me to stand up for my faith!”

He went to that secret place, retrieved the filthy pictures, the vulgar films and literature, and destroyed them. He purged his library of the hard, raucous music and sordid lyrics. He deleted from his computer all references to pornographic sites, installed a protective filter, and placed his computer in a more public place so as to fortify himself against repeating his sin.

Bill acknowledged his transgressions before God. He prayed fervently for the strength to repent, to expel this evil from his life. He sought help from his bishop and loved ones. In his extremity, Bill has felt the quiet assurance “My son, you are on the right path.” His faith, because of his works, is being affirmed and strengthened.

Much remains to be done. There will be fasting, prayer, scripture study, and many tears. A good bishop will provide indispensable help. The faithfulness and prayers of parents and loved ones will provide needed support. Nevertheless, the benchmark shows: Bill is beginning to exercise faith unto repentance—he has made the right choice!

They went to the family room, and Mother pulled her book of remembrance from a shelf and turned to a picture of a man with white hair and a white beard. She told Eric, “Welcome Chapman was my grandmother’s grandfather. While still a young man, Welcome heard rumors of a Joseph Smith, who was living in western New York, and who claimed to have a golden book that was given to him by an angel, and to have had visions and revelations. He also claimed that he had seen Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. He said that They had instructed him to organize a new church.
“After thinking a lot about it, Welcome decided to find out for himself whether what he’d heard was true. Against the wishes of his parents, he saddled his horse and rode two hundred miles to New York.
“When he found the Prophet Joseph Smith,” Mother continued, “he discovered that they were about the same age. Welcome heard a complete account of all that had happened to Joseph, including how he obtained and translated the records on the golden plates, and was very much impressed with the Prophet and his wonderful experiences.
“He stayed two weeks at the home of the Prophet, learning all he could of the gospel. Convinced that this was the true religion, Welcome was baptized. Because of his activities in the Church and the esteem Joseph Smith had for him, he was made one of the Prophet’s bodyguards.”

It was 11:00 at night, and I was in my bedroom after being out with a few high school friends. I knew I hadn’t made the best decisions that night. “But,” I reasoned, “I hadn’t made the worst ones either.”

Frustrated, I picked up a homework assignment. I was so tired that I just wanted to get it over with and go to bed. “I still need to read my scriptures. But I’ll just skip them tonight,” I thought.

I began thinking of everything I was expected to do. Read my scriptures, attend early-morning seminary, attend church and Mutual, get good grades, be involved in extracurricular activities, have a part-time job … The list went on.

I felt so much pressure in every area of my life, especially as the only female Latter-day Saint in my high school. I reminded myself again and again that I might be the only female Latter-day Saint my peers ever met, so I had to be a good example. Yet I knew I was starting to slip.

“I wish I could be carefree like my friends,” I thought. I also wished I didn’t feel so awful when I went to a party or said a bad word, but the truth was I did. It made me feel physically sick when I made choices I knew weren’t the right ones. For some reason, though, I continued to make them.

It was almost midnight when I finished my homework assignment. In five hours my alarm clock would be beeping. I would wake up, drag myself to seminary, and try to get through another day of high school.

Then it dawned on me. I didn’t have to obey all the rules. I could stop attending church, seminary, and Mutual if I wanted to. Just because my family went, it didn’t mean I had to.

It was such a liberating thought. I crawled into bed and was almost asleep when I had a strong impression to read the scriptures. “No,” I thought. “I’m done.”

Again I felt it. This time I thought, “Maybe just one last time.”

In seminary that year, we had been studying the New Testament. I turned to where my marker was in James chapter 1. This was the chapter Joseph Smith had read that inspired him to go to the Sacred Grove and pour out his heart to Heavenly Father. “How ironic,” I thought. I started reading.

Verse 5 was familiar to me: “If any of you lack wisdom …” But it was verse 8 that opened my eyes that night. It said, “A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” I froze. Then I reread it.

I was being double-minded. I claimed to be a Latter-day Saint, but my actions were beginning to say otherwise. And if I continued, no matter what path I chose, I would be unstable and unsure and thus very unhappy.

I needed to know if the gospel was true. I needed to know if getting up every morning at 5:00 a.m. to study the gospel was worth it. I needed to know that I was trying to live my life to the best of my ability, despite at times being ridiculed, because it truly would bring me the most happiness and joy.

It was almost 1:00 in the morning then, but I knelt beside my bed and poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven. I asked Him to help me know what was right, to know which path to take, to lead me by the hand and take away the confusion I was feeling.

Simply, clearly, and peacefully, the thought came to my mind, “You already know.” And I did.

I got off my knees, shut off my light, and went to sleep. Four hours later my alarm went off. Sleepily, I shut it off. A minute later I was up getting ready for another day, early-morning seminary included.

It has been years since that wonderful midnight experience. My testimony still continues to grow. Sometimes it is stronger than at other times. The difference is I know and I have never once looked back.

The choir leaders work with the region’s public affairs office in organizing places and times to sing. The choir is often included in public performances where the audience is not well acquainted with the Church. When asked about their most memorable performance, they immediately mention a Christmas program held at the local YMCA. Rachel Neifert of the Maryland Heights Ward says: “There were all kinds of choirs there. We sang, ‘This Is the Christ.’ Afterwards people were asking us, ‘What was that feeling?’ It was the best we have ever done. I didn’t know we could sound that good.”

“I think before every performance at least one person says, ‘Let’s try and make this like the YMCA performance.’ That was the most spiritual experience,” adds Carolyn Rees of the Spencer Creek Ward.

This story happened in Slovenia.
Maja sat on the steps of her house and rested her chin in her hands. The sun was shining bright, warm rays of light through the tall trees. The air smelled like fresh pine needles.
Mami came out and sat next to Maja. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m supposed to share my favorite scripture in Primary,” Maja said. “But I don’t have a favorite. And I don’t know which one to pick.”
Mami nodded. “Choosing a favorite scripture is hard.” She looked out at the trees, then stood up. “I have an idea.”
Mami went back inside. When she came back, she was holding her scriptures. “Let’s start with a story. What’s your favorite scripture story?”
Maja thought about it. “I like when Jesus visited the Nephites.”
Mami flipped through the pages in the Book of Mormon. “That story starts in 3 Nephi.” She pointed to the page. “Let’s take turns reading and pick out verses we like.”
Maja nodded and listened as Mami read. She read about Jesus Christ calling His disciples. She read about peacemakers and prayer.
Then it was Maja’s turn. When she finished one of the verses, she paused. She felt like the sun was shining bright enough to fill her heart.
She looked up at Mami. “I like that one.”
“Me too. What do you like about it?” Mami asked.
Maja shrugged as a smile spread on her face. “It’s about Jesus. And it just makes me feel happy.”
Mami smiled back. “That’s a great way to know you’ve found a favorite scripture. Do you want to share that one in Primary?”
Maja nodded excitedly. “Will you help me learn it?”
“Of course!” Mami said.
Mami and Maja practiced one word at a time. While they worked, the birds chirped in the trees, like they were learning too.
All week, Maja kept practicing her new favorite scripture. On Sunday morning, she was a little nervous. She practiced saying her scripture on the long drive to church.
There were only a few kids in Maja’s Primary. But as she walked into the classroom, Maja felt like butterflies were flying around in her stomach.
When it was her turn to share, Maja stood and took a deep breath. “Behold, I am the law, and the light,” she said. “Look unto me, and endure to the end, and ye shall live; for unto him that endureth to the end will I give eternal life.”
When Maja was done, she sat down and smiled. She did it! The nervous butterflies were gone, and the warm, sunshiny feeling was back. She knew her favorite scripture would bring that feeling whenever she needed it.
The scripture Maja learned for Primary still brings her feelings of sunshine and comfort today! What’s your favorite scripture?
Illustrations by Chloe Dominique

When Robert L. Backman was 12 years old, his father was called to be president of the South African Mission. Young Robert soon found himself living in Capetown and attending Rondebosch High School, a very strict English prep school. “The first weeks of school were a difficult time for me. I was strictly a minority and felt like a curiosity. I cried myself to sleep at night more than once, particularly when missionaries I had come to love went home. I wanted to go home with them.”
At school, Robert was indeed something of a curiosity. “Everybody wanted to hear me speak, so at recess they’d gather around me and try to provoke me into conversation, and then they’d try to mimic my accent.” Appalled at his student’s barbarous American twang, one cultured British teacher undertook to reform Robert’s speech. “Martha came down the garden path carrying a large basket of tomatoes,” he would intone in his most cultured diction, each vowel floating heavenward like a balloon. Then the young American would deliberately repeat the phrase with a Yankee accent so heavy that the good professor would shake with anguish. “He’d slam his ruler down on the desk he was so angry. We had a contest. I was just as stubborn as he was and bound and determined he wasn’t going to break me of my accent. He never did.”
To make matters worse, many of the parents of students didn’t want their children becoming too friendly with this young foreigner who might not only corrupt their speech but, since he was a Mormon, might undermine their morals as well. To a boy that age, belonging is very important, and so all this was difficult to accept.
There was another problem. After the easygoing pace of schoolwork in the United States, Rondebosch was academically tough. Robert studied English, French, Latin, math, chemistry, physics, and a couple of history courses all in the same term, attending school from 8:00 till 4:00 five days a week and till 1:00 on Saturday. And every night there was a crushing load of homework.
Discipline was also strict. Once a young school fellow made a remark that Robert took exception to, and a fight ensued. The two antagonists were ushered into the office of the headmaster, who politely asked them to please touch their toes. “He then pulled out a bamboo rod with a little steel tube right up the middle of it and gave us six good ones across our bottoms to teach us not to fight.”
But while the first weeks went badly at school, Robert turned more to the Lord and his religious faith for support, performing his duties as a deacon with great pride. His young faith grew strong. “I don’t think I’ve ever doubted. I’ve questioned. I’ve been exposed to a lot of other philosophies in my schooling, but I’ve never really had any doubt. I have always believed that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I’ve never had any question about the Savior and his mission, his death and resurrection. I suppose that part of that is due to my exposure to the missionaries quite early in my life. They buttressed me during those traumatic years when one ordinarily might be having some of those real doubts.”
And so, gradually, an unhappy situation became a happy one. “I got used to it and won my way, as youngsters usually do, and I ended up playing some rugby on the junior squads and made friends at the school and began enjoying myself.” Even the heavy academic demands turned out to be a blessing. “It was really a good discipline to my life and set me in some study patterns that have been of great benefit to me ever since.” And though it must have seemed merely a question of survival to young Robert at the time, it was a battle won, and his spiritual strength increased.

As newlyweds, my wife and I both were stubborn. We would disagree and argue about things that didn’t really matter, and it had worn down our relationship. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted if we had kept going down the road we were on.
But making eternal covenants in the house of the Lord has made all the difference. Our temple covenants changed the focus from “me” to “we.” We learned to value our eternal relationship instead of focusing on our own needs as individuals. Eventually, we became “of one heart and one mind” (Moses 7:18), which vastly improved our course, connection, and communication.

While President O’Donnal spoke, my thoughts drifted back to the many missionaries who had come to this land and the hardships they endured, the sacrifices they made, and the lives they blessed. The experience of one describes the devotion of all. While I have, on a previous occasion, mentioned the experience of this missionary, following my recent visit to Guatemala I felt impressed to share it with you once again.

While serving in Guatemala as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Randall Ellsworth survived a devastating earthquake, which hurled a beam down on his back, paralyzing his legs and severely damaging his kidneys. He was the only American injured in the quake, which claimed the lives of some eighteen thousand persons.

After receiving emergency medical treatment, Elder Ellsworth was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While he was confined there, a newscaster conducted with him an interview that I witnessed through the miracle of television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?”

The answer, “Not yet, but I will.”

“Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?”

Came the reply: “Others think not, but I will. With the President of my church praying for me, and through the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will walk, and I will return to Guatemala. The Lord wanted me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”

There followed a lengthy period of therapy, punctuated by silent yet heroic courage. Little by little, the feeling began to return to the almost lifeless limbs. More therapy, more courage, more prayer.

At last Randall Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he had been called, back to the people whom he loved. He left behind a trail of skeptics and a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the reward of determination.

In Guatemala, Randall pursued his responsibilities. He walked with the use of two canes. His walk was slow and deliberate. Then one day, as he stood before his mission president, Randall Ellsworth heard him speak the almost unbelievable words, “You have been the recipient of a miracle. Your faith has been rewarded. If you have the necessary confidence, if you have abiding faith, if you have supreme courage, place those two canes on my desk—and walk.”

Slowly, Randall placed one cane and then the other on the mission president’s desk, turned toward the door and toward his future—and walked.

Today, Randall Ellsworth is a practicing physician. He is a stalwart husband and a loving father. His mission president was none other than John Forres O’Donnal—the man who helped bring to Guatemala the word of the Lord, the leader who on Sunday, March 5, 1989, addressed the throng assembled for regional conference.

Forres O’Donnal visited my office not long ago and, in his modest manner, recounted his experience with Randall Ellsworth. He then said to me, “Together we have witnessed a miracle. I have kept one of the two canes placed upon my desk that day when I challenged Elder Ellsworth to walk without them. I would like you to have the other.” With a friendly smile, he departed the office and returned home to Guatemala.

This is the cane given to me. It serves as a silent witness of our Heavenly Father’s ability to hear our prayers and to bless our lives. It is a symbol of faith. It is a reminder of courage.

Sister Wilson carefully studied each young child as she entered the Primary classroom. How they have grown and developed since January, she thought. She gathered them around her and began her lesson. “You are each very special! You have learned so many things. You have learned to sit reverently and listen to our lessons. Why, you can even say your own prayers!”
“Well, of course,” responded Clayton, “I’ve already been on this earth five years!”
Clayton’s lifetime seemed a very long time to him, and he saw no limits to what he could learn. Brothers and sisters, our children are eager to learn. They want to be taught. They need to be taught.

As a matter of fact, attempts to keep illness or other problems secret can sometimes backfire. One elder heard by accident that his mother had undergone heart surgery. A frantic, long-distance phone call from England partially reassured him that she was progressing satisfactorily. But the remaining year of his mission was edged with anxiety. As he put it, “If they had leveled with me, I could have relaxed when the crisis was past, but this way, I was never sure how things really were at home.”

Allen E. Litster was president of the Andes Mission at the time. From his notes we learn some of the things that took place on the peaceful Sunday afternoon when that great quake shook Peru.
There were sad and tragic experiences for many of the people in Peru, but there were great blessings to some people too. President Litster wrote:
“Late Sunday night sketchy reports of damage along the Peruvian coast began to filter in from the north. Telephone and cable lines were down, and so communication was limited to ham operators and private company radios.
“Monday afternoon urgent pleas began to come in through small private radios located in the beautiful Callejón de Huaylas, a deep narrow valley located in central Peru at the foot of Peru’s highest peak, Mount Huascarán. The communications reported extensive damage in other areas. Ninety percent of the city of Huaraz had been destroyed. Caraz, a city of some twelve thousand, had reportedly disappeared from the map.
“Our concern increased as we considered the missionaries and members.
“By Tuesday morning there was still no communication from either Caraz or Huaraz, nor was there any by Wednesday morning.
“Then lists of survivors and dead began to be relayed to the public through Lima radio stations. Missionaries and members were assigned to listen for news of missionaries and members in those areas.
“Wednesday evening, seventy-eight hours after the earthquake struck, the telephone rang.
“‘This is Colonel Beckett, U.S. Air Force. Would you like some word about some of your long lost friends? Today I flew a chopper into Caraz. Your elders did some translating for me. They are well and happy and wonder if they could help more where they are or somewhere else.’
“Now maybe there was some hope for the missionaries in Huaraz. Suddenly a cheer broke out in one of the upstairs offices where missionaries were huddled around a radio listening to reports from Huaraz.
“‘Attention, Lima. Mormon missionaries in Huaraz are well.’ Grateful prayers welled up in the heart of each one of us. This accounted for all of our missionaries, and most of our members were safe. The Lord had indeed been good!”

When I entered the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple with the youth of my ward to do baptisms for the dead, we waited a few minutes in a reception room. Then the temple workers asked us to go down a hall where there were several chairs and to wait again.
Because it was a Saturday, many people had come to the temple from all over Argentina. We waited there for two and a half hours, just sitting quietly. Some not very pleasant thoughts began to run through my mind: “How can they make us wait all this time? I’m tired, and apparently it would have been better if I hadn’t come, because this is a waste of time.”
I got up and started walking down the hall. Soon one of the workers came out and said: “Young people, please don’t be impatient. I understand that you have been waiting for a long time, but do you know something? In the spirit world millions of people have been waiting for this moment for centuries, and I can assure you that they are very anxious for their turn to come. The brethren are baptizing and confirming, and they cannot do more than they are doing.”
When he said these words, I felt embarrassed. I realized that I was being selfish because I didn’t want to give hours for those people who had waited such long years and who did not have the opportunity I had to hear about the true Church and be baptized on earth.
The worker came out again, and he began to call names from our ward. A sister gave us white clothing that more or less fit. After we got dressed, she pulled back our hair and tied it with a white tie.
Then, barefoot, we walked to the benches in the baptistry. The carpets were so soft and high it was as if we weren’t even walking on the ground.
When it was my turn, I was as nervous as if it were the day of my own baptism. But the workers were so nice and they had such patience with each of us that it felt incredible.
When I came out of the font, a sister was waiting for me with a big white towel and a huge smile. I changed my clothes and went into a room where I was confirmed. The same sister who had given me the towel went with me and thanked me for being willing to do the Lord’s work.
When I left the temple, I realized it had been one of the best experiences of my life. The temple is a holy place and the Lord’s Spirit is there, directing His great work. It is worth any wait.

Once, on a very nice day in Washington Square Park in New York City, my companion and I were contacting in the park with little success. In the park, people were watching some Broadway-quality street dancers. At the end of the performance, my companion approached the dancers with a challenge: “We have the fastest man in NYC with us today, and he would like to have a race. Which one of you is the fastest?” One of them came out and said, “That’s me, bro. I’m a runner too.” The other dancers blocked the street, and the crowd leaving the dance performance was called back. Someone exclaimed, “It’s the Mormons!” Soon we had a large audience for the race.
My opponent was in athletic dancing clothes. I was in my suit, holding my Book of Mormon. The dancer asked if I wanted to give my suit coat and Book of Mormon to my companion, but I said, “I’m good. I will run with them.” He started the race with, “On your mark, get set, go,” and took off. I gave him a head start of a couple seconds, and then I began to chase him down. As I passed the dancer, I held up the Book of Mormon and said, “The Church is true, bro!” and ran on to win the race. Because of this performance, we became very popular in the neighborhood. Many people immediately took pass-along cards, and we made several return appointments. Gospel seeds were planted.

Some people may feel that they need eloquent words or lofty reasoning when sharing their testimonies. But simple words offered in faith and humility contain great spiritual power. Sister Anne Osborn Poelman tells of her conversion to the Church. As she met with the missionaries, the most powerful testimony was unexpectedly borne by a young elder who had been a missionary just one week. He was nervous. Sister Poelman tells that when she challenged his statement that he knew the gospel was true, “he paused and gulped. ‘Well, Sister Osborn,’ he finally said as he looked me straight in the eye, ‘I guess I just believe it so hard I know it’s true!’ How can anyone argue with such an earnest, deeply felt testimony? I really couldn’t” (The Simeon Solution, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1995, page 59).