Gospel Story Finder

As a young boy I had great interest in anything that had to do with treasures. I often found myself absorbed in stories and movies about hidden treasures, secret maps, and brave explorers searching for lost riches. When my brothers and I visited our grandparents who lived at the base of the Andes Mountains in Mendoza, Argentina, we would spend hours searching through the fields for shiny rocks. We would eagerly break the rocks open in the hope of discovering something very precious inside—only to find more glittering minerals but never any real treasure.

A few years ago, I was with my noble 97-year-old grandmother. As she sat curled in her wheelchair, weak and nearly blind, she talked quietly of her life. I said: “This is a wicked world. There are so many temptations and challenges. Is it possible to stay worthy and return to our Heavenly Father?” She slowly raised herself tall and erect and said in a commanding voice: “Yes! You must! That’s why you’re here!” Thank you, Grandma, for teaching me about hope.

When I’m at a family gathering, I try to spend time, when appropriate, to have a one-on-one discussion with some of our grandchildren. I sit with them and ask them a few questions: “How are you doing?” “How is school?”

Then I ask them how they feel about the true Church, which means so much to me. I try to discover the depth of their faith and testimony. If I perceive areas of uncertainty, I’ll ask them, “Would you accept a goal from your granddad?”

Then I’ll suggest they read the scriptures daily and recommend they kneel down every morning and night and pray with their father and mother and have personal prayers. I admonish them to go to their sacrament meetings. I admonish them always to keep themselves pure and clean, always attend their meetings, and finally, among other things, always strive to be sensitive to the whisperings of the Lord.

Now one time after a talk with Joseph, our eight-year-old grandson, he looked into my eyes and asked this pointed question: “May I go now, Granddad?” He ran from my arms and I thought, “Did I do any good?” Apparently I did, because the next day he said, “Thanks for the little talk we had.”

The Taylors heard the restored gospel as a result of some unusual circumstances. In 1836, Parley P. Pratt was sent to Toronto by revelation to preach the gospel. Concerning Elder Pratt’s mission to Canada, Elder Heber C. Kimball had prophesied, “From the things growing out of this mission, shall the fullness of the gospel spread into England.” (See Roberts, page 35.) Elder Pratt received from a stranger a letter of introduction to a John Taylor in Toronto. But when he called at the Taylors’ home, his reception there was polite but not exactly cordial. Later, after presenting his message to the ministers in the city, Elder Pratt prepared to leave. Valise in hand, he was saying good-bye to John Taylor when a neighbor—a member of the Taylors’ religious study group—came in, offered her home for Elder Pratt to preach in, and proposed to lodge and feed him. As a result, John and Leonora Taylor heard Elder Pratt preach. This was John’s response to his group of friends:

“We are here, ostensibly in search of the truth. Hitherto we have fully investigated other creeds and doctrines and proven them false. Why should we fear to investigate Mormonism? This gentleman, Mr. Pratt, has brought to us many doctrines that correspond with our own views. … We have prayed to God to send us a messenger, if He has a true Church on earth. … I desire to investigate his doctrines and claims to authority, and shall be very glad if some of my friends will unite with me in this investigation. But if no one will unite with me, be assured I shall make the investigation alone. If I find his religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be; but if false, then I shall expose it.” (See Roberts, pages 38–39.)

For three weeks, John Taylor followed Elder Pratt from place to place, copying down sermons as Elder Pratt delivered them—and then privately comparing them with the scriptures. Satisfied that the missionary was teaching the truth, John and Leonora Taylor joined the Church. Twenty-eight-year-old John was ordained an elder and was placed in charge of the Church in Canada when the missionaries returned to their homes.

Three children of the Goodman family of Sandy, Utah, were killed in an automobile accident a few weeks before Christmas last year. As I attended the funeral for these children, my heart was touched by the outpouring of love and support from the Goodmans’ ward and stake. More than 1500 people attended the funeral. They are a remarkable family, and the children were remarkable. The twelve Goodman children and their parents have sung together in many parts of the world, sharing their message of love and the importance of the family. Three other family members were seriously injured in the accident. The Goodmans said that the outpouring of love and kindness from others helped them through this tragedy. The love and help that the Goodman family received is an example of people following the Savior’s teaching: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).

The Vershinin family from Nizhniy Novgorod first visited the Stockholm Sweden Temple in 2000. After traveling to St. Petersburg, Sergey, Vera, and their daughter, Irina, joined a group of Russian Latter-day Saints from various cities and traveled by bus and ferry to reach the temple. At the temple, Irina participated in baptisms for the dead and was sealed to her parents. “The trip gave us testimonies and many blessings,” she recalled. “They were small testimonies received individually by each person. But as a whole they helped us and gave momentum for further spiritual growth.”12

I am writing this letter to thank you for “You Sing—You Love” by Kent Rappleye in the December 1978 New Era. I started reading it in my father’s car while we were going to another city. It was so beautiful I could feel the love coming from it. It was so full of expression and of the Spirit that if I tried hard I could hear the choir singing. After reading the first column I had to stop three times because tears were filling my eyes. The spirit that held me was so great that I had to testify then and there: “Jesus is the Christ, and we are in his church.” When I finished that article, I couldn’t keep reading because I had to meditate and savor that special experience. At a time when I needed it most, the Spirit had once again testified to me that the gospel is true and that we are working to build the kingdom of God here. For the rest of the day I felt this way and just tried to pass it around.

Some who profess to be followers of Christ insist that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are not Christians. Indeed, there are those who make their living attacking our church and its doctrines. I wish all of them could have the experience I shared.
A friend who was making his first visit to Salt Lake City called on me in my office. He is a well-educated man and a devout and sincere Christian. Although we have not discussed this with each other, we both know that some leaders of his denomination have taught that members of our church are not Christians.
After a short discussion on a matter of common interest, I told my friend I had something I would like him to see. We walked over to Temple Square and into the North Visitors’ Center. We viewed the pictures of Bible and Book of Mormon Apostles and prophets. Then we turned our steps up the inclined walkway to the second level. Here Thorvaldsen’s great statue of the risen Christ dominates a setting suggestive of the immensity of space and the grandeur of the creations of God.
As we emerged and beheld this majestic likeness of the Christus, arms outstretched and hands showing the wounds of his Crucifixion, my friend drew a sharp breath. We stood quietly for a few minutes, enjoying a reverent communion of worshipful thoughts about our Savior. Then without further conversation, we made our way down to the street level. On the way we walked past the small diorama showing the Prophet Joseph Smith kneeling in the Sacred Grove.
As we left Temple Square and took our leave of one another, my friend took me by the hand. “Thank you for showing me that,” he said. “Now I understand something about your faith that I have never understood before.” I hope that every person who has ever had doubts about whether we are Christians can achieve that same understanding.

One day, when Sister Gurney and Sister Sasaki came to teach a lesson to Andrea, they told her that Theresa was going to be baptized and asked her if she would also want to get baptized. Andrea told the sisters that she would pray about it. She had experienced the influence of the Holy Spirit in the past and said that if she had that same feeling when she prayed about joining the Church, then she would be baptized. If not, then the answer was “No.”
She later shared her experience, “When I prayed about baptism, I had this eagerness; I became so anxious to do it. I discussed it with my husband because he was waiting for me to be ready, so we could get baptized together. I said, ‘Let’s continue to pray.’ So, we did, and I kept having the eagerness.”
Andrea’s husband, Wusu, was going to be leaving in two months, so when they attended Theresa’s baptism, they told the missionaries that they wanted to be baptized right away. The whole family spent the next three weeks learning about the gospel, and on June 4, Wusu, Andrea, and Patricia, their oldest daughter, were all baptized, and then confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

William Wood’s teenage years ended while he was serving in the British navy. Now, after war experience in the Crimea and China, and a three-year voyage around the world aboard the (His Majesty’s Ship) Retribution, the sailor enjoyed being home again on the Isle of Sheppey, near the mouth of the Thames River. He relayed and became reacquainted with his relatives, none of whom had appreciated his joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints five years earlier.
After being home two weeks William looked up the local branch of the Church. His sister went along, thinking he was just going for a walk. They ended up at a Mormon meeting in Sheerness held in “a little upstairs room in a dirty back alley.” William received a hearty welcome from the branch president and the few Saints who had known him before.
They called on him to speak at the meeting and tell about his sea experiences. His sister was surprised, he noted, “at finding me still a Mormon and hearing me preach.”
To supplement his discharge pay of 80 pounds sterling, William found work as a butcher. He was hired at good wages by none other than his former employer at Maldon, Mr. Blaxall, the man who fired him years before for joining the Latter-day Saints. William returned to Maldon and worked for about a year, during which period he had two pressing goals: emigrating to Zion and “selecting me a wife.”
Early in 1862 the seaman met and fell in love with Elizabeth Gentry, the attractive, 16-year-old daughter of the branch president in Maldon. Her mother had joined the Church in 1853, Elizabeth in 1854, and her blacksmith father the next year. Brother Gentry and William, converts the same year, had served together as priests at preaching services around Maldon before William’s navy service.
When William and Elizabeth became engaged, they counseled with traveling elder Francis M. Lyman about immigrating to Zion. Elder Lyman, later a member of the Council of the Twelve, advised the couple to join the emigrating company he was then organizing.
The couple joined other emigrating Saints at London and then the group traveled to Liverpool and boarded the old sailing ship William Tapscott, which had been specially chartered by Church emigration agents. For the voyage, the vessel received one of the largest Latter-day Saint companies ever to emigrate together across the Atlantic, numbering 800 souls from the British Isles, Denmark, and Sweden. “It was an interesting sight,” William reported, “to see the Saints boarding the ship with all kinds of tin utensils tied in bunches and some were carrying their straw mattresses on their heads, while others were carrying all kinds of parcels and lunch baskets. Some had old pieces of furniture … or some old picture of great-grandparents.”
William thought it remarkable how quickly the large crowd, divided into shipboard wards headed by specially appointed presiding elders, became orderly. “I do not think the same number of non-Mormons would have settled down to such order,” the veteran of shipboard life observed. “Nothing but the Spirit of the Lord would produce such harmony.” The ship left the Liverpool docks on May 13, 1862.
Ward teachers were assigned to each family, and Elder Lyman requested William to be responsible for the welfare of seven emigrants, including Elizabeth. The seaman obtained their rations, arranged for their food to be cooked, and performed other needed services. The slow, six-week voyage, characterized by rough seas and much sea-sickness, ended at Castle Garden in New York. The company passed health inspections, then boarded trains for St. Louis, Missouri. Because the American Civil War then was escalating, “we were moved and changed about a number of times. At one place we were hustled on board of a freight train. The cars had been loaded with hogs and they had not been swept or cleaned out, thus we were choked with the dust and could taste it for days afterwards.”
At the Missouri River they transferred to a small steamboat. It arrived near Council Bluffs, Iowa, very late at night, in the darkness, and passengers and baggage were unloaded at a fast speed and in confusion. At daybreak the weary travelers located their scattered luggage, then assembled at the Church’s emigration campground. There they were organized into companies of tens, fifties, and hundreds by Church emigration agent Joseph Young. William, being a military veteran, was named captain of the guards.
Wagons and teams had to be prepared, baggage loaded, food supplies purchased and packed, and teamsters trained. While this work was being done the camp was struck by a violent storm with high winds, torrential rains, and vivid lightnings. Cattle broke loose and stampeded, doing great damage. Lightning killed at least two Saints and badly injured several others. Floods washed gullies 3 meters deep in places. During the storm William, as captain of the guards, was called on to help a sister give birth under a collapsed tent—both mother and son remained his lifelong friends in Utah. The company needed two or three days to recover from the storm, and many Saints never found boxes and bags washed away by the flash floods.
A Brother Cooper, noticing William’s skill with cattle, hired him to train his teams to work together in a yoke and then drive them to Utah. In return William and Elizabeth were promised free transportation. A few days later, however, their employer announced that he did not intend to go to Zion but wanted them to help him farm nearby. When William refused, he and Elizabeth were ordered out of the wagon and left without food or water.
Fortunately for the stranded couple, Elders Lyman and Charles C. Rich rode in from the west and found them that evening. They arranged for Elizabeth to ride to Utah with a family named Wardell for 40 dollars. Elder Lyman, however, asked William to return to Florence to help with the D. F. Kimball freight train. The fiancé agreed to this separation reluctantly:
“I think this was the greatest trial I ever underwent—to leave my betrothed and go back. However, I submitted and kissed my girl good-bye and gave her a half sovereign, all the money I had in the world, and jumped in the buckboard and we went, I with a sorrowful heart and a mind full of reflections as to the outcome of it all. Brother Rich found I was in tears and told me to cheer up and have faith and all would be well.”
His first night in camp provided the other men with a good laugh then and for years after. William, preparing for bed, reached in his bag for what he thought were closely woven cotton sailor overalls and instead he held up “some sort of ladies’ underwear trimmed and adorned with lace.” His comrades laughed loudly. He had taken his sweetheart’s bag by mistake instead of his own! But perhaps the seaman was more fortunate than the others: while the freight company members slept on hard ground for three months, William rested comfortably in his sea hammock slung between two wagon wheels. On rainy nights he simply covered himself and hammock with canvas.
Day by day the scenery and travel grew increasingly tiresome. Near Chimney Rock (in what is now Wyoming) some of the cattle became diseased and died, forcing the company to make shorter drives each day. William began to think he would never get to Utah and rejoin Elizabeth.
Finally one October Saturday, William’s company descended the hills above Salt Lake City, awed by a beautiful sunset across the Great Salt Lake and by the splendid square-blocked city stretched out below them. As they approached the city, an occupant of a nearby cabin called and waved to William. It was Sister Wardell, the woman with whom Elizabeth had traveled to Utah! William hurried to her, but his anticipation was instantly crushed. She informed him that Elizabeth no longer loved him and planned to marry a local polygamist!
“This was like a bolt of thunder to me,” he recalled. Heartsick, the young man continued with the company to the valley floor, then returned that night to the Wardells. The woman tried to persuade William to marry her daughter, but he was not interested. “I formed a resolution that I was going to have the ‘love of my youth’”, he said.
Friends from Maldon lived in Centerville so early the next week William hiked 19 kilometers to locate them. He arrived at night, and “to my great joy the girl of my heart was found lying asleep on an old home-made lounge and looking free although almost in rags. She awoke, and her joy was unbounded.” Elizabeth then explained that the Wardell woman had tried to marry her to her own son. That failing, the mother sent the girl away and kept all the clothes and bedding until Elizabeth’s 40-dollar fare was paid in full. The woman then had made up the story about Elizabeth’s loss of affection for William, hoping the navy veteran would marry into the Wardell family.
William returned to Salt Lake City and drove his freight team to Springville where he received his three months’ wages. Then he walked back to Salt Lake, paid off the 40-dollar debt, obtained his and Elizabeth’s belongings, and then got a ride back to Centerville. Two weeks later the engaged couple were married.
Hard work brought the young couple a fine brick home and prospering meat business in Salt Lake, enabling them to pay for the immigration of Elizabeth’s family in 1867. But the next year the Woods gave up home and career to fill a difficult colonizing mission to Arizona. They returned destitute four years later and took up residence in a poor smelter dug in the side of a hill within sight of their former home.
William again left his prospering business and a growing family in 1880 to a mission to his home country. Near the end of that otherwise successful mission he reported:
“I preached the Gospel to my dear ones, my father, mother, brother, and sister, and although none of my own kindred have obeyed, they had to acknowledge they could not confute the doctrine, and they feel today that I am not what they judged me to be twenty-seven years ago. When a boy … All my dear relations have treated me with marked kindness, as they have any of the Elders that called upon them at the time. I know God will bless them for that.”
Six years after he returned from his mission, his beloved Elizabeth gave birth in her 42nd year to their 13th baby, but within days both mother and baby died. William later remarried, and he and his families went on to gain prominence in Canada where the Wood name became linked with extensive ranching and meat-packing interests. William’s son Edward J. served for many years as a stake president and temple president in Alberta.
The year before William died, he wrote his impressive life story, hoping his example as convert, sailor, pioneer, and missionary might teach young people in the Church that “should they have to leave the place where they have been taught the gospel … never to yield to any invitation that leads to intemperance or immorality. Always pray to the Lord, whether you are called by the servant of God to preach the Gospel or surrounded by the horrors of war—never forget to offer a silent prayer to your Eternal Father. He will not forget you.”

Alex’s testimony was strengthened further following a dream he had in which he was called on a full-time mission. He began preparing but didn’t wait until he was 19 to begin sharing the gospel, starting with his own family.
“Alex always prayed for and encouraged his family,” says Bishop Sayas. “And he would always encourage his older brothers to attend church. The effort to bring his family back succeeded because of Alex.”
“It was Alex who was always working with us and with ward members on our behalf,” Carmen says. “They told us he was always praying for his parents to return to church. We’re grateful he didn’t give up on us.”
If Latter-day Saints are good examples, Alex says, others will eventually take notice. “If we are happy and content in the Church, others are going to want to partake of our happiness. If we endure and move forward, miracles can occur.”

One other matter. I remember some years ago, a young man and his wife and little children moved to our Arizona community. As we got acquainted with them, he told me of the rigorous youth he had spent as he grew up. He’d had to get up at five and six o’clock in the morning and go out and deliver papers. He’d had to work on the farm, and he’d had to do many things that were still rankling in his soul. Then he concluded with this statement: “My boys are never going to have to do that.” And we saw his boys grow up and you couldn’t get them to do anything. They left off their Church activity and nothing seemed very important to them.

The summer morning was crisp and cool as I stood on the banks of the Snake River. My thoughts were intent upon the beauties of nature and the handiwork of an all-wise Heavenly Father. I had come to this favorite spot on a few other occasions. Nearby were the headgates of the great feeder canals which furnish the water for the fertile fields of several counties.
Deep in thought and contemplation, I observed a tiny object some great distance up the river. As it came closer I was able to determine that it was a rubber raft. It was not until a few minutes later that I could see there were several people sitting around the edges of the small raft. Ahead of them was a bend in the great river, just where I was standing. The water was high and very swift. To follow the main course of the river was safe, and it was traveled by hundreds of boaters every year. But I sensed the little party was having trouble in rounding the bend, and the raft was being sucked closer to the feeder gates. I felt that danger lay ahead for this company that appeared to be a family.
Quickly I reached the structure where the water rushed into the great feeder canal under the cement. Cars could drive across the dam, and I judged it was 60–70 feet across. As I looked over the edge of the feeder gates, I could see that the raft had come to rest against the cement. There were several large, swift water holes sucking under it. Then I saw that a young father and mother, a grandmother, and two little boys, the occupants of the raft were standing up, trying to push themselves along the cement wall to the bank where they could get to safety. The father reached his hand up toward me and shouted, “Help us!” Oh, how I wanted to. I reached down as far as I could for his hand, but he was three feet below my reach. As he desperately reached toward me, I saw the raft turn on its side. With all five family members, it was sucked under the swirling water.
I was horrified! My first thought was that they would be caught under the dam on the iron rods that were placed there to catch the limbs that drifted down the river. I turned to see if they would come out the other side.
The water was jumping eight to ten feet high in a foaming froth as it came into the mighty canal. I ran from the dam down the side of the canal. I saw the father come up through the foaming water, then the mother. Both appeared to be good swimmers. I heard the grandmother screaming. She was 50 yards downstream and apparently could not swim. I ran down the bank and was able to bring her safely to shore.
We all stood on the bank petrified. Where were the two little boys? The mother was screaming at the top of her voice. The father was running up and down the banks of the roaring stream. Neither of the little boys surfaced. I was the sole witness of this tragic scene.
At that moment a car crossed the dam toward us. I gave the driver a quick explanation, and he hurried for help. In just moments more people came and soon the banks of the canal were crowded. Motor boats were going up and down the canal, but to no avail. The two little boys could not be found.
In a moment of crisis and tragedy many thoughts and questions fill our minds. My mind was racing wildly. In a split second I had seen a happy family transformed into a family of panic, grief, sadness, and loneliness, just because they failed to negotiate a bend in the river, just because the turbulence had sucked them into the wrong channel and away from the right course. My heart ached for this young father and mother as I saw the look of grief and despair on their saddened faces.
As I drove home, my mind was troubled. Two young boys had drowned. What is death? Only a temporary separation, if plans have been made in the temple to be an eternal family. But what of parents who lose a son or daughter to turbulences in the stream of life, who get sucked into the wrong channels of bad habits and wrongdoing? A son or daughter who loses a testimony, faith, and sometimes even hope? I have witnessed happy families made sad, who suffer for a lifetime because a member of the family failed to stay on the proper course.

Photograph of author and her family by Cody Bell
After the birth of my first child, I suffered from postpartum depression. It was a wonderful time in my life because I had a son, but I could not fully experience the joy of having a baby because I was so depressed.
During this trying time, I prayed a lot to Heavenly Father. I asked Him to help me get through this difficult trial. With general conference approaching that fall, I also prayed that I might find comfort from the talks by leaders of the Church.
As I listened to the talks during the first session of general conference, I began to feel comforted. Then, during the second session, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles spoke about depression. He said depression can make us feel “like a broken vessel”1 (Psalm 31:12). I never expected to hear an entire talk about exactly what I was experiencing.
This was a special moment for me. The talk helped me understand that Heavenly Father loves me and that He is aware of me. He understood what I was going through. He wanted to help me and give me hope. He did that through the words of Elder Holland.

I once heard a stake president mention the great success of one of his elders quorum presidents. He said, “His name is Hershel Pedersen. Perhaps you have heard of him. They used to call him ‘Bones’ when he played for BYU.” Well, I, along with many of you had heard of Brother Pedersen. As a matter of fact he grew up in my stake. He is one of the seven sons of Oliver Cowdery Pedersen, who all went on missions, most of them to Denmark. I heard his report when he returned from his mission, and I signed his temple recommend when he was married. So I was interested.

The stake president continued: “Brother Pedersen has committed himself to qualify every man in his quorum for a temple recommend. They are all qualified now except six.” Some time later when I was with the Church Home Teaching Committee, we remembered this story and asked Brother Pedersen to report on how his quorum had turned out. He said, “We got them all but three. Then they released me to become president of the stake mission. But since my release we got the other three.”

Sarah Henrie, a Laurel from Glenwood, Alberta, Canada, loves puppies. And she should. Breeding miniature schnauzers has proven to be a good source of income for this young entrepreneur.
“When I was ten years old, my parents got me a dog to raise as a job so that I could do reports on it for my home-study schooling. Then we had a litter of puppies, and I’ve been doing this ever since,” says Sarah.
The puppies have given her valuable experience in learning how to run a business efficiently. She also has realized the value of paying tithing on her income.
“I made a Young Women goal to learn how to clip the dogs myself,” says Sarah. “I took a course at the university, and now I can do it on my own. It saves a lot of money.”
But as Sarah’s business has taken off, she’s learned another, more important lesson about her family. Since her business has grown, Sarah has relied on the help of her younger Primary-age sisters, Kate, Leah, Jennifer, and Amy, to keep things running smoothly. She says that if it weren’t for them, she couldn’t run her business. She also says life wouldn’t be much fun without them.
“I have to be a very good example,” she says. “It’s important for me to choose the right.”

For about a year I played the role of the mother of the house. I loved my family, and I wanted to take care of them, but I sometimes wondered, “Why do I have to stay home and watch the little kids, fix supper, and do the laundry?” I was only in junior high school. In those moments when I would start to cry, I’d see my father. He tried so hard to make our home happy. All day he would work hard and then come home and listen to our problems and our complaints and smile and say he loved us. I never once heard him complain or break down in front of us. He knew the whole family depended on him. If he broke down, the family would also. But if he were strong, the family would follow.
I remember those days and all the pain and testing we went through. Looking at pictures that were taken then, I can still see the pain when I look into the eyes of those in the photographs.

How do you get back to feeling good again? I have a young grandson named Adam. When he was three, we were having a family gathering at our house. It had snowed, and we looked out and saw Adam in the front yard in his Sunday clothes, making designs in the snow with his feet. His mother went out and asked him to come in, but he refused. She reminded him that he was getting cold and that he was ruining his Sunday clothes. Still he was defiant and not feeling the Spirit at all.
Next I went out. He was walking up the street, blue with cold, and crying. “Adam,” I said, “would you like to hold Grandpa’s hand and walk back to the house with me?” He stuck his tongue out at me. Finally, his Aunt Becky went out and picked up Adam screaming and kicking and carried him back into the house.
A while later, Adam was wrapped in a blanket and was a cheerful little boy. I asked him, “Adam, what did you do to feel better?” Adam said, “I prayed.”

When my sister, Nancy, and I were teenagers, we regularly attended our local church. But we began to feel that something was missing, so we decided to investigate other churches.
That summer my sister and brother visited a booth at the Canadian National Exhibition, where missionaries were showing a movie called Ancient America Speaks. After watching the movie, my sister and brother signed up to receive a free copy of the Book of Mormon. I can still remember the excitement in my sister’s voice as she announced to my mother and me that Christ had visited the American continent.
The missionaries brought a Book of Mormon to my sister and asked her if she would like to learn more about the Church. That was how we were both taught the gospel.
More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life. When Nancy told him about the gospel, he was eager to take the missionary discussions. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.
Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what the missionaries taught them, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. The missionaries told them that once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith, then everything else—the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets—would fall into place.
When Luke and Leonarda met with the elders again, the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.
I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. Luke accepted baptism, and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.
Since that night, the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. Truly, for us that night, everything did fall into place.

I will always remember the sight of the temple the day I arrived to receive my endowment. I was filled with deep respect and reverence. I was humbled by the thought that I would go inside and make sacred covenants with my Father in Heaven.
I had arrived dressed in my Sunday best, knowing that my outward appearance reflected my inward respect for the house of the Lord.
“Welcome to the temple,” I was greeted as I showed my recommend and walked inside. Everything about the temple was beautiful. It felt like a piece of heaven on earth, and the friendly temple workers seemed like angels.
I remained in awe at the Spirit I felt. While I didn’t immediately understand everything that was taking place, I did realize the importance of the covenants I was making. It was clear to me why my bishop had spoken of the temple the way he had. The endowment I was receiving would extend not only far beyond the two years of my mission but even into the eternities. More meaningful to me than any of the advice I had received from various people was a scripture I had read as part of my preparation, “And that all people who shall enter upon the threshold of the Lord’s house may feel thy power, and feel constrained to acknowledge that thou hast sanctified it, and that it is thy house, a place of thy holiness” (D&C 109:13). I knew that the temple was the Lord’s house, sanctified and holy. I went expecting to feel God’s love, and I did.