Gospel Story Finder

Eliza smiled as she walked back to her seat. Sharing her testimony in sacrament meeting had made butterflies flutter in her stomach. But she’d also felt the Holy Ghost, and that made it worth it.
After sacrament meeting, Bishop Baldry walked over to Eliza and her family.
“Thanks for sharing your testimony today, Eliza,” the bishop said. “It was really great.”
Eliza felt her cheeks get warm. “Thanks!”
“Would you be willing to give a short talk about family history next week?”
“Um—” Eliza’s heart started racing.
“Eliza, you love family history!” Dad said. “That’d be the perfect topic for you.”
“I don’t know,” Eliza said, looking down at her shoes. “It’s hard enough to say my testimony. I don’t think I could stand up there and give a talk.”
“That’s OK,” the bishop said. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He smiled as he walked away.
Dad patted Eliza’s shoulder. “I think you’d give a great talk about family history. If you change your mind, I could help you get ready and practice. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel as nervous.”
Mom nodded. “And Heavenly Father would help you too.”
Eliza thought about standing up in front of everyone. Those butterflies in her stomach started to flutter again.
Then she thought about family history, and she felt more peaceful. Maybe she could give a talk next week.
“OK,” Eliza said. “Where’s the bishop?”
That week, Eliza spent a long time writing her talk. She learned about the prophet Elijah. She learned how, when we get excited about doing family history, we call that feeling “the spirit of Elijah.” My name sounds kind of like Elijah, she thought. She added that as a joke to begin her talk.
But what if no one laughed at her joke? What if she talked too fast? What if she got tongue-tied and couldn’t talk at all?
Her dad helped her practice all week. He got out the broom for a pretend microphone. The first time Eliza read her talk out loud, she couldn’t stop laughing at her joke. But she kept practicing until she could give her whole talk without messing up or going too fast.
On Sunday, Eliza sat on the stand in the chapel. Her heart thumped as she watched the room fill up. She prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help her feel calm.
After the sacrament was over, Eliza heard the bishop say her name. Her legs wobbled as she walked to the microphone. She took a deep breath. “Hi, my name is Eliza. My talk is about family history. I was asked to give this talk because I have the spirit of Eliza—I mean, the spirit of Elijah.” People smiled, and some even laughed.
The butterflies fluttered in her stomach while she spoke. But Eliza also felt the Holy Ghost helping her along. Finally, her first talk was almost over! “I’m glad I got to share my love for family history with you. I know that when I do family history, I am helping people who died without learning about the gospel. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

Illustrations by Roger Motzkus; photographs courtesy of Keaton Allen
Time machines have been dreamed up in all shapes and sizes. Such fantastical devices have been represented on screen and in books as everything from hyped-up supercars to phone booths.
For a large group of youth from Arizona, USA, their blast to the past took place inside their local stake center.
This particular journey began after President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, told youth, “You may wonder, at my age what I can contribute to your lives. I have been where you are and know where you are going. But you have not yet been where I am” (“Counsel to Youth,” Ensign, Nov. 2011, 16). These words prompted leaders in one stake to start thinking about ways to help youth connect with elderly people in their area.
As youth and leaders began planning, they decided to put together a program in the spirit of The Lawrence Welk Show, a popular American TV show featuring music and dancing that ran from the 1950s through the 1970s. This was a show many of the seniors in the stake knew and loved well.
Most of the youth, however, had never heard of it, and at first some of them didn’t know quite what to think of the idea.
“I was unsure,” says Lisette L., a Laurel from the stake. Adds Slade C., 15, “Honestly, I thought it was going to be kind of weird.”
After all, we’re talking about barbershop quartet music, dance styles from decades past, and the hope to form close friendships across wide generation gaps. Still, the youth jumped in with both feet and started preparing.
“We wanted the youth and the elderly citizens to get to know each other,” says Pam Nielson, one of the leaders. “We wanted them to realize they have a lot in common.”
This wasn’t an activity that could be thrown together in a few days. Preparation involved weeks of rehearsals. There was an all-youth orchestra, an all-youth barbershop chorus, an all-youth band, and all-youth dance teams who learned songs and routines from the 1920s through the 1960s. That takes time to create. “These kids were amazing,” says Pam.
For their part, Slade and Lisette were both chosen as part of an advanced dancing team. “There were lots of rehearsals,” Slade says. “After Mutual, we went down to the stake center and practiced.”
As the show began coming together, the excitement grew. “It was really fun,” says Lisette. “For most of us, it was our first time hearing any of this kind of music.”
When the big day arrived, the surprise highlight—for many—took place before the first note of music even rang in the air.
The activity was scheduled in two segments. For the first part, the 200 youth from the stake were divided into groups of four, and then each group was assigned to visit an elderly man or woman in his or her home for an hour and a half.
“That was definitely one of my favorite parts,” says Slade. He wasn’t alone, either. For many of the young men and young women, these get-to-know-you sessions were fascinating as well as inspiring.
Slade’s group was assigned to visit Hazel Cameron, a widow in their stake who lived through the Great Depression. “I never guessed at all the things she’s been through,” Slade explains. “She told us a few stories that I thought were pretty exciting.”
Slade and the others in his group spent 90 minutes getting to know Hazel, asking her questions about her life. They all enjoyed one another’s company—and none of them minded a bit when Hazel shared a few treats she’d made. It turns out baking cookies and making candy is one of her favorite hobbies!
Another of Hazel’s favorite hobbies is dancing, including the fox-trot. “She taught me a few moves,” Slade says.
At the end of their time together, the elderly members in each group shared a few words of advice with the youth. These messages were recorded and later compiled and handed out as treasured DVDs.
When visiting time was over, the youth said good-bye to their new friends and got ready for the performance later that night. They could hardly wait to put on the performance.
After all the hard work, The Lawrence Wright Show was ready to begin. The event was named for the stake president, Lawrence Wright, who played the role of host Lawrence Welk, complete with a flurry of bubbles like they had in the original show.
The youth went all-out in performing for their new friends. All night long, the stake center became a time machine as song after song turned back the years for the guests of honor. “I loved seeing how happy they were as we performed for them and brought back memories,” says Lisette.
After the grand finale—a song and dance routine to the traditional closing song from The Lawrence Welk Show—music continued, and the youth invited their friends from the audience to join them for more dancing. “It was super exciting,” says Slade, who shared a dance with Hazel.
The friendships formed that day have lasted well past the show’s closing curtain. The youth enjoy seeing their new friends at church and around town. Slade, for example, drops by Hazel’s house now and again just to say hello. He often thinks of ways to brighten her day. “I didn’t think this activity was going to be amazing, but it was,” Slade explains.
Pam hears all the time from senior members in the stake who tell her how the youth will come up and talk with them at church. “They truly made friends,” she says.
This activity ended up providing much more than entertainment. By getting to know those they served, the youth formed friendships they never knew they were missing. “No matter what age we are,” says Lisette, “we’re all part of the same family.”

I was raised with very liberal views concerning the gospel. There was no priesthood in our home, and although I studied the gospel as best I could, when the real trials came, I couldn’t seem to live up to gospel standards.
My husband was not a member of the Church, and for a long time, the gospel was not a part of our lives. There was tension and misunderstanding whenever we tried to discuss the Church, so we just didn’t.
I didn’t want these hurt feelings in our family, so five years ago, I decided to do something about the situation. At that time, my husband was sent to Vietnam. Our son was four years old, and I decided it was time for him to go to Primary. Gradually, we began to go to Sunday School and sacrament meetings. We didn’t feel too comfortable there. We didn’t know many people, and no one seemed particularly interested in us except one family. They invited us to their home for family home evening and dinner. In time, from this first exposure, I realized that there was something missing that I wanted in my home.
When I met my husband on leave, I told him how much the Church meant to me, how I believe it with all my heart, and how I would never demand that he go to church if he would just first give it a try.
When he returned from Vietnam, we were transferred to Kentucky, where we started going to church. My husband, Rich, was the friendly antagonist in class—asking all the questions that many teachers wish would be asked somewhere else, or at least in a different setting. I kept praying that when our next orders came, we would find ourselves in an area surrounded by Latter-day Saints. I wanted so much for Rich to rub shoulders with Mormons. I prayed about it a lot.
Well, when our orders came through, they were for Stillwater, Oklahoma. I cried for three days. I didn’t think there were any Mormons in Oklahoma. But the Lord does things in his own way. In Oklahoma, we again attended the investigator class, and home teachers started coming to visit us.
The real change came one very cold January night in 1970. I decided that 1970 was going to be my year for the Church—no more being a part-Mormon, I wanted to be a total one. So the first Monday night (this was when Relief Society was on Monday), I started out in the bitter cold. Rich said, “Please don’t go.” I said, “I’ve got to. If I don’t now, I never will.”
When I arrived, I felt quite uncomfortable, for I was the only one there. It wasn’t long, however, before three others came—the presidency. Finally, we had a total of seven sisters. They really made me feel welcome. They held a testimony meeting, and everyone except me bore her testimony. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my husband how I felt about the Church.
That experience kept me in Relief Society. I didn’t miss a single meeting for about six months. Finally, after testimonies were shared at the conclusion of one lesson, one sister said, “If you’re having trouble reading the Book of Mormon, start reading Third Nephi.”
I thought. Oh, am I having trouble? I can’t even get started!
That evening, I went home and opened Third Nephi and read the whole book. My husband and I were both students at the time, and after I’d finished reading it, I took it to the other room, where my husband was studying.
I handed the book to him and said, “Read this and tell me if you don’t think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever read.”
He looked at me as if to say, “You’ve got to be kidding—at this time of night?”
But he read it. Who could not be moved by chapter 11:
“And it came to pass, as they understood they cast their eyes up again towards heaven; and behold, they saw a Man descending out of heaven; and he was clothed in a white robe; and he came down and stood in the midst of them; and the eyes of the whole multitude were turned upon him, and they durst not open their mouths, even one to another, and wist not what it meant, for they thought it was an angel that had appeared unto them.
“And it came to pass that he stretched forth his hand and spake unto the people, saying:
“Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.” (3 Ne. 11:8–10.)
This book was the turning point. He went on to complete the Book of Mormon—we both did. We read other Church books, prayed, and started having family home evening. Within six months, he was baptized. A year later, he baptized our son—a dream I once thought was impossible for me. This year (1972), we were sealed as a family in the temple.
I can never fully express how I feel about those scriptures that started us down the road of happiness.

Mary thought about Mom and Grandma looking at temples together. “And what about Dad? How old was he when he got baptized?”
“He was 11.”
“And he lived in Brazil then?”
“That’s right,” said Mom. “There are people all over the world learning about Jesus and baptism. Lots of them are pioneers.”
“Pioneers?”
“A pioneer is someone who is the first to do something,” Mom explained.
Mary thought about that. “Like how you were the first person in your family to get baptized?”
Mom nodded and smiled.
Just then, Dad walked into the room and squished onto the sofa.
“Dad, were you a pioneer for your family?”
“Sort of. After I was baptized, I found out Grandma Rosimere was already a member of our church! But she hadn’t gone in years.”
“Really? What happened?”
“I started going to church. Then my brothers started going, then Grandma Rosimere too. Even Great-Grandma Marluce joined!”
Mary imagined Dad going to church by himself, then bringing more of his family with him.
“Wow,” Mary said. “I like hearing your stories. They make me even more excited to be baptized.”
“Thanks for asking us all these questions, Mary,” Dad said. “Now can we ask you one?”
Mary nodded. What would they ask?
“Why do you want to be baptized?”
Mary thought about what she learned from the scriptures and how she felt at church. “Because I want to follow Jesus and be with my family forever.”
Mom and Dad both smiled, and Mary tackled her parents in a hug. “I can hardly wait!”

Another side benefit of choir was that it became a way to include some young people who either were having trouble with their church activity or were not members but just wanted to spend time with their Mormon friends. One particularly good example is Kevin Wood, now Elder Wood serving in Belgium on a mission. “I had slipped away slowly from church. Many other things in my life went downhill. I had fallen into the pit very gradually, and so when I got to the bottom, I didn’t even realize how deep and dark it really was until after I had gotten back out.”
Cathy Baradine had been working away from home at a summer camp. When she returned home, she was surprised when she was told that Kevin wasn’t attending church anymore. The ward had just started the youth choir. She didn’t hesitate. She called Kevin and told him she was coming to pick him up in half an hour for choir practice.
Kevin says he was bewildered enough to say yes. He now says that at the time he hated singing, especially songs with gospel themes. But he went. “I don’t remember whether the time passed quickly, or how I felt during the practice,” said Kevin. “It was as we were walking out that I remarked how I felt so much lighter. I may have even had a smile on my face. All my problems and concerns, although they hadn’t disappeared, had left my mind for a moment.” Kevin returned to church and choir practice the next Sunday and the next and the next.

At this critical point in her life, Minerva had two experiences that took her out of the art world. The first experience crystallized her desire for life with a family—specifically, for life with Herman. In a testimony meeting she was listening to a sister speak on the joys of marriage and motherhood. “I thought of all the men I had met in my search for ‘the right one,’” wrote Minerva later. At that moment, she realized that “back on the Idaho desert, herding his cattle and branding his calves was a man more nearly meant for me than anyone else in the world” (unpublished autobiographical sketch, 1937, transcription from handwritten manuscript). Never one to doubt her own judgment, Minerva returned home to Idaho and married Herman.
The other experience helped her to strengthen her feeling that she had a mission as an artist and that she should place her art in the service of her faith. Minerva later recorded how Robert Henri, one of her renowned teachers, asked her, shortly before she left New York, whether any artist had ever told the “great Mormon story.”
“Not to my liking,’ I answered. ‘Good Heavens, girl, what an opportunity. You do it. You’re the one. That’s your birthright. You’ll do it well.’
“I felt that I had been commissioned” (unpublished manuscript, 1947).

Now, fast forward to several years ago and consider three young men who also answered a call from the prophet at approximately the same age of 19 years and came to the Missionary Training Center as missionaries. For some reason they couldn’t quite grasp why they were there and immediately started having problems. As their branch president, I received reports that they were causing problems in their classes and doing other inappropriate things. Although they were companions, I met with each of them individually, discussed these problems, and challenged them to remember who they were and who they represented and, if nothing else, to simply look at the Savior’s name on their badges on a regular basis as a reminder. A week later I received a report that things had not improved. So on a Sunday I met with them again and went over what was and wasn’t appropriate. That same day they went back to their room and played what turned out to be a very inappropriate prank on another missionary, which led to more serious consequences. At this point, the decision from Church headquarters in Salt Lake City was that they apparently were not ready to be representatives of the Church and needed to go home.

In both cases, three young men had answered a call, but each set chose to take different routes. What was the difference? Two of the words that come to mind are agency and perspective.

Sleep seemed beyond reach that night. I could find no way to turn off the procession of disturbing thoughts that troubled my mind. Seeking peace, I prayed, asking the Lord about my concern: How could I fulfill my commitment to be a good wife and a good mother amid the iniquity of the world? I was especially worried about helping my one-year-old daughter grow up uncontaminated by the immorality we so often see or hear in movies, music, television, or other media, even when we are careful in our selection.
As I prayed, suddenly I remembered a bit of counsel from Mormon. He had written to his son Moroni after reviewing the horrors of war and wickedness among the unrepentant Nephites: “Be faithful in Christ; and may not the things which I have written”—(and I thought at this point, or the things which you have seen, or read, or heard)—“grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up, and may … the hope of his glory and of eternal life, rest in your mind forever” (Moro. 9:25).
It was exactly the counsel I needed during that sleepless night. The Book of Mormon had come to my rescue again!

My friend and I were kicking a rock back and forth as we walked to school. I kicked the rock and it hit the side of my neighbor’s truck and made a small dent. I was scared that I would get in trouble, so I decided not to tell anyone. When I got home from school, I felt worse and worse until I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I told my parents what had happened. My dad took me over to my neighbor’s house, and we told him about it. My dad asked if we could clean the truck as payment. We spent a long time cleaning the inside and outside of the truck, and when we took it back I felt much better. I was glad that the Holy Ghost had helped me to choose the right.

When an administrator in Africa rode out to inspect land that had been devastated in a storm, he came to a place where giant cedars had been uprooted and destroyed. He said to his official in charge, “You will have to plant some cedars here.” The official replied, “It takes 2,000 years to grow cedars of the size these were. They don’t even bear cones until they’re 50 years old.”
“Then,” said the administrator, “we must plant them at once.” And this is the admonition to you.

In stark contrast, consider the example of another young man. Through the years I have watched how his parents have taught him from infancy to unwaveringly live the commandments of God. By example and precept, they nurtured him, together with their other children, in truth. They encouraged the development of discipline and sacrifice to obtain worthy goals. This young man chose swimming to instill in his character those qualities. Early-morning practice sessions required discipline and sacrifice. Over time he excelled in that sport.
Then came the challenges—for example, a championship swim meet on Sunday. Would he participate? Would he rationalize an exception to his rule of not swimming on Sunday to help his team win the championship? No, he would not yield, even under intense peer pressure. He was called names, even physically abused. But he would not yield. The rejection of friends, the loneliness, and the pressure brought times of sadness and tears. But he would not yield. He was learning firsthand what each of us must come to know—the reality of Paul’s counsel to Timothy: “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Tim. 3:12). Over the years this consistent pattern of righteous living—woven from hundreds of correct decisions, some in the face of great challenge—has developed a character of strength and capacity. Now, as a missionary, he is appreciated by his peers for his ability to work, his knowledge of truth, his unwavering devotion, and his determination to share the gospel. One who earlier was rejected by his peers now has become a respected leader of his peers. Is there a message for you in these examples?

Some years ago, while serving as the President of the Toronto Mission, I had a 6’7” missionary from a small town in Arizona assigned to our mission. We encouraged our missionaries to memorize scriptures every day. This missionary, just off the farm, said, “I can’t do it, President. I can’t memorize.” I replied, “Just work on one sentence at a time.” Being obedient, he did his best. In our final interview, I said to him, “I understand you have now memorized over 50 scriptures.” He responded with a smile, “No, President – over 70 scriptures.” In truth, our capabilities have no limitations because God has planted within each of us the seeds of Godhood. His divine DNA is in our spiritual composition.

The other evening I looked at a video a man had sent me. It is the story of his mother. It is titled Morning Will Come.

It is the story of Misao Toma, whom I first met on Okinawa almost 30 years ago. She was married not long before the Second World War broke out. During the war she, her husband, and their two little children suffered unspeakable misery. They lived in a cave hiding from the soldiers—both American and Japanese—as that area of the world was devastated with gunfire, cannon fire, and bombs, with tens of thousands of casualties. Her husband suffered a collapse. He wanted to die. He cried out that he wanted to be killed. She felt utterly helpless and broken.

A vision came to her in the night when her family was hungry to the point of death. There came into her being a sense of the reality of God. It gave her strength to carry on. This little woman literally saved her family. She fed them leaves and little creatures from the river. She found a hive of wild honey that revived her husband. After the night of awful darkness the morning came. Somehow they survived.

Two sister missionaries later called on her. Their message touched her heart. She and her husband and their children were eventually baptized. He became the first native branch president on Okinawa. That is when I met them. They were beginning to prosper, had a nice home that had come of their industry, and were faithful and active in the Church. Then the husband suffered a stroke and died. That was in 1962. Because of the unconscionable actions of another man, she was left with terrible debts for the business and for her husband’s medical care.

For long years she worked from 5 o’clock in the morning until 11 o’clock each night. To get food for her children she asked the grocer to give her the tops, the green leaves, from the bunches of carrots and radishes. Sometimes she would come home and say to her children, “We will sing hymns tonight.” That meant to the children that there was no food to eat that night or the next morning.

Her children grew. They received scholarships to the Hawaii campus and later came here to BYU. They served missions. They became involved in business and were highly successful. They wrote to their mother and told her to sell the house and pay the debts and come and live with them. They bought for her a beautiful home in Tokyo.

So far as I know she held no office in the Church except that of a worker in the Tokyo Temple. She may have taught a class or two, but she did not preside over any organization.

Was her offering acceptable to the Lord? She gave her children, having nurtured them in faith with prayer and love. She did whatever she was asked to do.

She died here in Provo three years ago. But today, as I think of her family, I think of her great offering and of its acceptability before the Lord.

When I was about 10, my older brother had a serious health problem. The blood in his hands was not circulating properly, and they hurt very badly. At that time, my family lived in a small town on the border of Brazil and Argentina. The medical facilities there were not very good, so my mother and my brother traveled to the big city of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, to see the doctor. Because my father had to work during the day, my baby brother had to stay with another family. So every day I went to visit him. And every day I prayed for my older brother.
The doctors told my mother they needed to amputate (cut off) my brother’s hands. Mother refused. “No, I know the Lord will take care of my son,” she said. One night after my mother and brother had returned home, he was in great pain. I shared a room with him, and I remember him crying because his hands hurt so much. While he cried, Mother knelt by his bed, praying. The next morning, I saw him sleeping peacefully. Mother was also asleep, still kneeling at his bedside. We were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but Mother had great faith. Eventually my brother’s hands did get better. He lost the tips of some of his fingers, but he did not have to have his hands amputated.
Mother also had great courage. And she taught us to be of good cheer. She told my brother that even though he had lost part of some fingers, he still had everything else. So my brother did not get discouraged. His first job was as a typist. Today he is an attorney.

I testify that conversion is a process. I am sure that the missionaries were praying and fasting for the change of my mind, because as soon as we started to attend the meetings, I began criticizing many temporal things at the meetinghouse, such as the crooked pictures on the walls. The branch president, a fine and wise man, appointed me as the “pictures supervisor,” this being my first calling in the Church. Incidentally, I have never seen that position in the handbooks, but it served me very well to start my involvement in the service of the Lord.

Of all the titles God can rightfully claim, He invites His children to address Him as Father. As a young parent, I came to know my Heavenly Father better. Our first child was two or three and just beginning to learn right from wrong. One day he had done something wrong, and I felt myself getting a little upset.

Then he ran to me for a hug while saying, “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

In an instant my disappointment melted away. In that moment I came to understand in a way I had not previously the great love Heavenly Father has for His children and how quickly He forgives and forgets. Marriage and children offer an opportunity to feel what our heavenly parents feel.

I testify of the spiritual growth and true joy that come from receiving and being faithful to the crowning covenant in the house of the Lord—being sealed to your eternal companion—and then, if so blessed, from being able to “raise up [children] unto the Lord.”53

I love talking to my parents and grandparents and learning stories about my ancestors. I’ve even learned how to enter their stories into FamilySearch.org. I also love searching online for my ancestors. I was so excited when my dad and I found a ship record on Ancestry.com with some of their names. I also got to visit a cemetery with my dad and grandpa to look for my relatives’ graves. I was so happy when we found the tombstone of my great-great-grandfather!

Now it was Michael who reached out and pointed to a square. This one was solid white.

“What about this one, Grandma?” he asked. “What’s the story behind it?”

“That,” she said, noticing that Jesse had fallen asleep in her arms, “is a piece of cloth from my grandmother’s wedding veil.

“My grandmother Nellie was the daughter of a farmer. Money was scarce for farmers in those days, and things like fancy wedding dresses were for the rich. But when Nellie became engaged to her beau of three years, she was determined to have a white lace dress.

“Not far from their farm lived an Italian woman who made the most beautiful lace that Nellie had ever seen. Now, because lace-making is a time-consuming and delicate work, it is quite expensive. When Nellie learned the cost of making an entire dress of lace, it seemed that she would have to give up her heart’s desire. Even though she had scrimped and saved for three years, the amount that she had was not nearly enough for the dress. In fact, it wasn’t even enough for the veil!

“Nellie was heartbroken. She lay in her room and cried for hours. Finally facing reality, she dried her eyes and went to talk to her mother. Together, she knew, they could make a pretty dress for her wedding day.

“With the money that she had saved, Nellie bought the material for her dress and some fancy beads to sew onto it. When it was finished, she was pleased. It was pretty and fit well.

“But as it turned out, Nellie was in for a surprise. Her mother, knowing how badly her daughter wanted a lace wedding dress, had been secretly learning to make lace. The Italian woman was her teacher.

“It had taken her over two years to learn the art of lace-making well enough to begin work on the dress. She worked late each night after her family had gone to bed and was still up before them each morning to prepare breakfast. She worked each chance she got, but, because it was such painstaking and delicate work, she had only been able to complete the veil before the wedding.

“Nellie was so touched by her mother’s sacrifice that she saved the veil for over sixty years. When she was very old, she cut a square of lace and sewed it onto a piece of material she had saved from her wedding dress, and added it to the Story Quilt.”

“So the story of her mother’s sacrifice will always be remembered by our family.” Jenna pointed out.

“That’s right,” Grandma told him. “And over the years I added many pieces of cloth to this quilt before I finished it.”

Chieko smoothed her soft, white dress. She was the angel in the Christmas Nativity play, and the show was about to start.
Chieko didn’t know much about Christmas or Jesus. Her family had come to Hawaii from Japan, and they were Buddhist. But her father’s boss had asked her to be in the play, and she was excited to be a part of it. She worked hard to learn the words.
“Fear not,” Chieko said as she stood on the stage. “For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord.” She loved being in this play.
A few years later, Chieko met some missionaries. They were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Would you like to come to church to learn more about Jesus Christ?” they asked.
Chieko remembered her part in the Christmas play. Who is Jesus? she thought. She wanted to learn more.
When she got home, Chieko asked her parents if she could go to church with the missionaries. “I don’t see why not,” Mama said. “As long as you still come to the Buddhist temple with us.”
At church, Chieko learned new songs and made new friends. In Sunday School, she learned that Jesus Christ was the Son of God. Because of Him, she could repent and live with God again someday. Chieko felt something special inside. She knew Jesus was real.
Years passed. Each week, Chieko went to the Buddhist temple with her family. And each Sunday, she went to church.
When she was 15, Chieko wanted to be baptized. She was a little scared to ask her parents. But they supported her. “We know you can be a good daughter and a good Christian too,” Papa said. Chieko was so happy!
As she grew up, Chieko kept following Jesus. Sometimes people were unkind to her because she was Japanese. But Chieko didn’t let that stop her. She treated everyone with kindness.
When she was 63, Chieko was called to serve as part of the Relief Society General Presidency. She visited Church members around the world. She shared the Savior’s love.
Chieko also spoke in general conference. “Let us come unto Christ,” she said. “Let us rejoice in Him, the giver of all good things.”*

As a young boy growing up in an active Latter-day Saint family, Ken G. had never had much trouble keeping his standards high. But when he started high school, things became harder and Ken sometimes felt isolated from the good influence of his family—especially at school.
“My high school friends were all really close to me even though they were not members of the Church,” Ken says. “We still had a strong connection. The problem was they started doing things that did not follow the standards of our Church.”
At home Ken never had a problem choosing the right, but he says that when he got to school and his family was no longer around to help guide him, he started making wrong choices. “I admit I did things that were not in line with the standards of the Church, so in seminary I always felt like I was the one being talked about in the lesson.”
That’s when Ken realized he wanted to make a change, but he didn’t feel strong enough to do it on his own. “So I made a resolution to pray for God to give me the strength and the courage to say no to my friends when they did bad things,” he explains. “And I feel that God answered my prayers. It became easier for me to say no whenever my friends asked me to do something wrong or tempted me. I already had the knowledge and knew what was right and wrong. But then, through prayer, I felt like I had the power and the gift to say no and to do what was right.”
Ken says the most important thing he learned from this experience is that “prayer is a sign of your humility, because you admit to yourself that you are weak and that only God can help you become strong” (see D&C 112:10).