Gospel Story Finder

“What can I get Mom for Mother’s Day?” I asked the same question again and again, but still no answer came. Because it was the last year I would be living at home, I wanted to give Mom something extra special. When she unwrapped this gift, it had to say, “Thank you for taking care of me and loving me for the last 20 years.”
“Well, if there is such a gift, I should be able to find it here,” I said out loud as I pulled the car into the shopping mall parking lot. Each little store seemed inviting, but I felt drawn into the pet shop. The fluffy dogs and cuddly hamsters had always been irresistible to me. As I walked around the fish tanks, there it lay—a green, scaly lizard! My thoughts hurled back through time, and for a moment I was a child again.
“Can I help you?” asked the clerk in the stationery store.
“No, just looking,” I mumbled. I lifted a piece of fine embossed stationery from a box. It felt smooth and cold in my hand.
“Should I wrap that up for you?” the sales clerk asked.
“No,” I said shaking my head.
“It’s not quite what I’m looking for.”
As Mom received each gift, her bright face and sweet words of gratitude made me feel absolutely confident that I had picked out the perfect present.
“The mall is now closing,” announced the voice over the loud speaker. Slowly, I walked out to the car. My hands were empty. The evening was gone, and still I had not purchased a gift for my mother.
“What is wrong with me? Why doesn’t anything seem right? What is it that Mom really wants?” I asked myself. Then suddenly I had the answers, and I knew the gift I would give to my mother this last year that I would be living at home. It didn’t have to be written down, nor did it have to be wrapped up. It wouldn’t take as much effort to get as the lizard nor cost as much money as the gold watch. But still it was the perfect gift.
This year I would give to my mother my sacred promise to always love the Lord and keep all his commandments and serve him by staying active in his Church, all the days of my life. Peace and happiness filled my soul as I pictured my mother’s joyful expression when she received this gift. In my heart I knew she would say, “It’s just what I have always wanted.”

I just have to thank you for the New Era. It really brightens my day. Just recently I read one through from cover to cover and then lent it to a girl friend. She quickly devoured every word, and then I took it to my place of employment—the Jackson Hole Playhouse Theater—where it was passed around one evening. One of the guys in the cast “adopted” it, and I haven’t seen it since! I am an investigator of the Church, and I can’t express in words how much the New Era has helped me in my studies. In fact, you may wish to know that I plan to be baptized.
Cindy ShufeldtJackson, Wyoming

We were traveling with family and friends in the south of Oman. We decided to relax on the beach along the coast of the Indian Ocean. Soon after our arrival, our 16-year-old daughter, Nellie, asked if she could swim out to what she thought was a sandbar. Noticing the choppy water, I told her that I would go first, thinking there might be dangerous currents.
After swimming a short while, I called to my wife, asking if I was close to the sandbar. Her response was, “You have gone way past it.” Unbeknownst to me I was trapped in a riptide and was being pulled rapidly out to sea.
I was unsure what to do. The only thing I could think of was to turn around and swim back toward shore. That was exactly the wrong thing to do. I felt helpless. Forces beyond my control were pulling me farther out to sea. What made matters worse was that my wife, trusting my decision, had followed me.
Brothers and sisters, I thought there was a high likelihood I would not survive and that I, because of my decision, would also cause my wife’s death. After great effort and what I believe was divine intervention, our feet somehow touched the sandy bottom and we were able to walk safely back to our friends and daughter.
From time to time I have an image that haunts me. What if that September day, while relaxing on the beach of the Indian Ocean, I had said to my daughter Nellie, “Yes, go ahead. Swim out to the sandbar.” Or if she too had followed my example and had been unable to swim back? What if I had to live life knowing that my example resulted in her being pulled by a riptide out to sea, never to return?

Natalie likes to explore the fields around our house. She found a special tree not far from our backyard, where she likes to pray. One night as I tucked her into bed, she said that Heavenly Father had told her to fast on the next Fast Sunday. She is so thin and young that I discouraged her. It was three weeks until the next Fast Sunday, so I thought that she would forget. But she didn’t!
On the day before the fast, she knew exactly her purpose for fasting. She wanted Heavenly Father to bless an elderly sister in our branch who had been very sick. Natalie said that she was never hungry during her fast, because she knew that that was what Heavenly Father wanted her to do.
For several months, she fasted every month with a special purpose, was cheerful, and never complained once. She has been a wonderful example for our family.

May I illustrate this truth with a personal experience. Many years ago, while serving as a bishop, I felt impressed to call upon Augusta Schneider, a widow from the Alsace-Lorraine area of Europe who spoke very little English, although she was fluent in French and German. For years after that first impression, I would visit with her at Christmastime. On one occasion, Augusta said, “Bishop, I have something of great value to me which I would like to present to you.” She then went to a special place in her modest apartment and retrieved the gift. It was a beautiful piece of felt, perhaps six by eight inches (15 by 20 cm) in size, to which she had pinned the medals her husband had been presented for his service as a member of the French forces in World War I. She said, “I would like you to have this personal treasure which is so close to my heart.” I protested politely and suggested there must be some member of her extended family to whom the gift should be given. “No,” she replied firmly, “the gift is yours, for you have the soul of a Frenchman.”

Shortly after presenting this special gift to me, Augusta departed mortality and went home to that God who gave her life. Occasionally I would wonder concerning her declaration that I had “the soul of a Frenchman.” I didn’t have the slightest idea what that meant. I still don’t.

Many years later, I had the privilege to accompany President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) to the dedication of the Frankfurt Germany Temple, which temple would serve German-, French-, and Dutch-speaking members. In packing for the trip, I felt impressed to take along the gift of medals, without any thought concerning what I would do with them. I’d had them a number of years.

For a French-speaking dedication session, the temple was filled. The singing and messages presented were beautiful. Gratitude for God’s blessings penetrated each heart. I saw from my conducting notes that the session included members from the Alsace-Lorraine area.

During my remarks, I observed that the organist had the name of Schneider. I therefore related the account of my association with Augusta Schneider, then stepped to the organ and presented the organist with the medals, along with the charge that since his name was Schneider, he had a responsibility to pursue the Schneider name in his genealogical activities. The Spirit of the Lord confirmed in our hearts that this was a special session. Brother Schneider had a difficult time preparing to play the closing number of the dedicatory service, so moved was he by the Spirit which we felt there in the temple.

I knew that the treasured gift—even the widow’s mite, for it was all Augusta Schneider had—was placed in the hand of one who would ensure that many with the souls of Frenchmen would now receive the blessings the holy temples provide, both for the living and for those who have passed beyond mortality.

On August 15, 1991, another important experience happened. Crystal; her sister, Dawn; her mother, Melodie; and her father were sealed together as an eternal family in the temple. They had traveled eleven hours by bus with twenty-nine other members of their South Royalton Ward to the Toronto Ontario Temple. Mother said, “The ward gave us so much support that it seems like a big family now.” Both girls remember seeing only individual reflections of themselves in the mirrors when they first entered the sealing room, but after they were sealed to their parents, they saw a reflection of their entire family going on forever. Later that night, Crystal had a dream that assured her that Heavenly Father loved her and would never leave her.

I have felt this same kind of fear many times. I felt it when I knocked on the door of a sullen and resentful woman who didn’t want visiting teachers, but whose unhappy life cried out for the healing power of the gospel. I felt it with a neighbor who had had such a bad experience in his family life that the joy of the gospel was hidden from him. I felt it when a member of my own family suffered prolonged physical pain.
I began to have the same kinds of experiences with other people. The lady to whom I was assigned to be a visiting teacher became comfortable enough to go with me to church. My neighbor who had had a bad family life enjoyed being with me and my friends so much that he began resisting the negative influences of his family.
My efforts to love others as the Savior loved have not always been successful. I am not strong enough alone to withstand the pressures and frustrations of my own and others’ imperfections. We cannot bless others if we rely solely on our own strength, or even if we ask God to help us use our own strength. We must allow the love of Christ to fill our souls. Then we become instruments of a power stronger and higher than anything we can become on our own.
“Abide in me,” the Savior taught, “and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in me.
“I am the vine, ye are the branches: he that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing.” (John 15:4–5.)
When I read this passage, I like to imagine a branch being broken off of a grapevine. The branch quickly withers and dies. It is no more able to bear fruit, for it cannot live without the life-sustaining vine. In the same way, if we do not draw our life from Christ, even though we may not see anything happen immediately, we are dying spiritually as surely as the branch died physically. We are not able to bring forth the fruit of service, “for without me ye can do nothing.” But if we do abide in Christ and allow his life-giving love and strength to fill our souls, we have a great promise. Christ continued:
“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.
“Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.
“As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love.
“If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love.” (John 15:7–10.)
I have found that if I come humbly and faithfully before God each morning and ask him to fill my soul with his love, I am blessed abundantly. I can care more for others, serve them with less fear of my inadequacy, and bless them in ways that would be impossible without his help. In a small way, I have learned to “abide in his love.”
The realization that the best way to help others is to love them unconditionally has brought new joy and energy to my efforts to serve. As I rely more completely upon the Savior for the love that can bless others, I feel more a part of his great work of salvation. And I rejoice in the goodness I now see more clearly in all of his children.

“Our family home was on the foothill of a solitary mountain that was a moving force all of my young life. I could see it from my bedroom window and felt a certain security in its closeness. I had climbed its bald dome with my family, with Church groups, and with a gang of kids. Then one day—driven by desire to go to the mount, like Moses, to commune with God, to consider who I was and what I was going to do about it—I set out alone to climb that peak. I was 16, and this day my aloneness on that mountain was exhilarating. It was a most spectacular spring morning at sunrise when I made my way to the top.

“With fascination I sat looking down at the houses I knew so well and at their people beginning to stir with the sun. I watched the achingly familiar scenes as an extension of myself. I followed the paths of my life from home to a friend’s house, to the church on the corner and the school down the hill and to the neighborhood store. Finally, I let myself look upon our own house, the scene of my most tender times, my most important learnings. Almost in panic and with a wrench of my heart, I felt childhood slipping from my grasp.

“Everywhere I looked was someone who had touched my life. At 16 I was the sum of them—parents, school friends, storekeeper, Church leader. My heart flooded with a new awareness. Suddenly I realized I had some debts to pay. I vowed that I would try to be useful. I knew I needed the help of God, and when I turned to him, my soul filled with an awareness that he lives, that he cares even about a little person sitting on a mountain thinking she can make a difference in the world. When I came down off the mountain the world seemed beautiful, and I was glad to be alive.”

When I was a little girl, I noticed that my grandfather kept a picture of a young man on his desk. The young man was not especially handsome, nor was he a relative that I knew of. I didn’t think that he was anyone famous, either, but I knew that he must be someone very important to hold such a place of honor. So one day I asked my grandmother, “Who is that man in the picture?”
My grandmother stopped dusting, and a tender smile lit up her face. She gently touched the frame and answered, “He is the missionary who taught Papa about the gospel.”
I wondered at the reverent expression in her voice. I knew that Papa had joined the Church many years ago, after he had married my grandmother. She had grown up in the Church.
But that was such a long time ago! I thought. And they still remember it!
Though my grandparents moved many times, they always took the picture with them. And they always placed it once again where they could look at it every day and remember lovingly the young man who cared enough to share some of his life and his testimony.
Several years ago, my grandparents passed away. I’m sure they took the picture with them in their hearts.

Other couples are doing the same. Bishop Chan Yue Sang and his wife, Kit Fong, have four children and are deeply grateful for the gospel and the difference it has made in their lives.

Seventeen years ago, Bishop Chan, then a twenty-four-year-old police constable, first heard about the gospel when he attended English classes taught by LDS missionaries.

“The gospel was beautiful to me,” he remembers. “At the time, I didn’t even believe in a God. But when they taught of being with your family forever, I thought I would give up anything in order to have that.”

His life changed a lot after his baptism. Within six months he had received a promotion at work. He also spent time that summer working with the full-time missionaries and teaching the gospel to others. One of the investigators he taught wrote him a letter two years later, asking for a contribution to the chapel they were building in her ward. He sent some money, renewed his acquaintance with her, and married her a year later.

“The biggest reward the gospel has given me is my family,” Bishop Chan says.

One of Bishop Chan’s goals is to share that reward with others. Last year, he invited the missionaries to a monthly police training meeting to give a family-focused presentation. The training included instruction on family education, welfare services, family council meetings, and one-on-one interviews with children. The family home evening program was also introduced. As a result, one of Bishop Chan’s colleagues joined the Church, and others have shown interest.

I knew right away who had left the homemade card in my mailbox with a simple outline of a girl’s unhappy face on it. Underneath the caption read, “Color me sorry!” I had been upset with Judy for something she had said. But how could I be angry with her now, especially when I read the kind words inside the card stating how much our friendship meant to her. It was just like Judy to say “I’m sorry” so quickly, thoughtfully, and creatively. I called to thank her for the card, and our friendship was strengthened because of her apology.

All of the Authorities who are here tonight could testify that in the reorganization of stakes they have had remarkable and inspiring experiences. I recall being assigned to reorganize a stake about 40 years ago. The president had suddenly died. The Brethren asked me to go down and speak at the funeral and reorganize the stake. I had never done this before. I was new as a General Authority. I was to be all alone.

When I arrived, I was taken to another town, where I participated in the funeral service. I asked all of the stake officers and the bishops to remain after the service and announced that a reorganization of the stake would take place the next evening.

I asked the mission president to sit with me as I interviewed the brethren, none of whom I knew. We interviewed late into the evening. I soon discovered there were problems in the stake. There were divisive feelings. When we were all through, I said to the mission president, “I am not satisfied. Are there not others?” He said, “I know of only one man whom we have not interviewed. He moved here rather recently on a transfer in his company. He is the second counselor in a bishopric. I do not know him well. He resides in another city.”

I said, “Let’s go see him.” We drove and went to the hotel where I would be staying for the night. Here I was, having interviewed all of these brethren and having not found one that I considered worthy to preside and having scheduled the reorganization for the next evening.

We arrived late at the hotel. I called the man; a sleepy voice answered the phone. I said that I wished to see him that evening. I apologized for calling him so late. He said, “I’ve just gone to bed, but I’ll put on my clothes and come.”

He came to the hotel. The conversation that followed was most interesting. He was a graduate of BYU in petroleum geology. He worked for a big oil company. He had served elsewhere in positions of responsibility in the Church. He knew the program of the Church. He had served a mission. He knew the gospel. He was mature in the Church. And the territory for which he was responsible as an employee of the oil company was exactly the same as the territory of the stake. I told him we would telephone him in the morning and excused him.

The mission president went on his way, and I went to bed.

At about three o’clock the next morning I awoke. Doubts began to flood my mind. This man was almost a total stranger to the people of the stake. I got out of bed and got on my knees and pleaded with the Lord for direction. I did not hear a voice, but I had a very distinct impression that said, “I told you who should be stake president. Why do you continue to ask?”

Ashamed of myself for troubling the Lord again, I went to bed and fell asleep. I phoned the man early the next morning and issued to him a call to serve as president of the stake. I asked him to select counselors.

That evening when people gathered for the meeting, there was much speculation as to who would be the stake president, but no one even thought of this man. When I announced his name, people looked at one another for a clue to discovering who he was. I had him come to the stand. I announced his counselors and had them come to the stand.

Even though they did not know him, the people sustained him. Things began to happen in that stake. The people had known for a long time that they needed a stake center, but they had been uncertain and argumentative as to where it should go. He went to work and within 18 months had a beautiful new stake center ready for dedication. He unified the stake. He traveled up and down, meeting the people and extending his love to them. That stake, which had grown tired, came to life and literally bubbled with new enthusiasm. It stands as a shining star in the large constellation of stakes in this Church.

It had been an aggravating, irritating day—one in which I felt that nobody appreciated my efforts in behalf of the family. All the packing, planning, and preparation for our family’s annual camping trip had been left to me. My husband, David, a surgeon in training, had taken it for granted that I would attend to every detail of the trip. He had stayed at the hospital long past our planned departure time.
Before we had even driven out of the city, the children were restless and bored with the confinement of the car’s back seat. When David said I hadn’t packed enough activities to keep the children entertained in the car, I made some angry remark back at him.
“She’s just angry at Dad,” explained ten-year-old Owen to his little sister. It was then that I switched on a cassette tape of Primary songs for children and sat in bad-tempered silence.
But the joy of the Primary songs was contagious. One by one each family member began to sing along, until even my own anger melted, and I couldn’t resist joining in the chorus of “Listen, Listen.” The Holy Ghost will whisper. Listen, listen to the still small voice” (Children’s Songbook, 1989, page 107). How quickly the music changed the mood of our little family on that long stretch of highway. How quickly and how timely.
“We need to turn the car around,” David said as the sound of the chorus faded.
“What for?” I asked. “What did I forget?”
“Nothing,” he laughed. “I just have this compelling feeling that we need to turn around.”
Just as we had been in harmony in our song—suddenly we all felt the need to turn around. And as crazy as it seemed at the time, we followed the prompting, turned the car around, and started back along the way we had come. Shortly afterward, we reached a parked vehicle, and its driver stood by the side of the road motioning us to stop. As we slowed the car by him, he frantically called out:
“There’s been an accident,” he said. “A young woman was driving a motorcycle, and it rolled over off the highway. I think she’s dying.” He motioned to a still body in the grass at the side of the highway—a wrecked motorcycle beside her. We parked the car, and my husband got out.
We had never carried a first-aid kit in the car, but this time we happened to have an emergency kit with us consisting of medical supplies David had picked up at a hospital sale just three weeks earlier. For the first time in our lives, we had it in the car! Feeling helpless and scared, I held the children close to me as David grabbed the kit and headed for the accident victim.
As he reached the body, my daughter said, “We should pray.” Thankful for her suggestion, we bowed our heads. “Heavenly Father,” we pleaded, “please help Daddy. Help him to know what to do to save this girl’s life. …”
As I watched my husband kneel beside the young woman and assess her condition, I was humbled. The girl was indeed dying—unconscious and not breathing. David took out the last two items he had added to the emergency kit: a tube-like device called an oral airway that opens up the air passage to the lungs, and a bag that pumps in air and allows the doctor to “breathe” for the patient. He used them both. Along with his medical skills, they probably saved her life.
When the ambulance arrived, my husband rode to the hospital with the patient. In the ambulance, he was able to talk over the two-way radio to medical personnel at the hospital, preparing everyone for their arrival.
As I drove the car behind the ambulance, my mind was filled with questions. What if we hadn’t had the first-aid kit? What if David hadn’t gone to the hospital sale? What if he hadn’t been trained for such an emergency? And most of all, what if we had continued to argue instead of sing? Would we have then heard the “still small voice” prompting us to turn the car around? Would we have recognized it?
The cassette tape in the car had continued to play throughout the entire drama. Silent and in wonder, the children and I listened:
“For all his creations, of which I’m a part[,] Yes, I know Heavenly Father loves me” (Children’s Songbook, 1989, page 229).

As an 18-year-old high school senior, I felt like everything was going my way. I had many good friends, I was participating in sports, and anticipating nothing but success the next year at the University of California at Berkeley. The college had already sent me a letter of acceptance.
I anticipated success when I entered a Lion’s Club speaking contest that spring too. The topic was “Are the Differences (Misunderstanding) Between Parents and Children Real or Imaginary!” My talk was especially written for the judges’ preferences, and I won the contest by defeating a girl named Karen, a Mormon.
I won because I had said what the judges wanted to hear. But in my mind, Karen’s talk, based on her church’s doctrines, was far more thought-provoking. Her delivery enveloped me in its sincere conviction. We became friends.
As we got to know each other, our conversations sometimes evolved into debates, with Karen defending religion while I argued for science. Our discussions served mostly to frustrate her.
But Karen had a friend named Nese. Nese never said more than “Hi” to me in the halls at school, but she had listened closely to my conversations with Karen.
Nese never told me directly that she was a Latter-day Saint. She strolled up to my table in the library one day during study hall. “May I sit down?” she asked. At some point during the conversation, she said she was a member of the house of Israel. I assumed she meant she was Jewish.
We had classes all at the same hour, and during the remaining months of our senior year, Nese and I sorted through the many religious questions flooding my mind. She told me later she “just wanted to share her opinion with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” I would tell my ideas on a subject like life after death, and then she would explain her beliefs. Her confidence amazed me. It wasn’t until later that I found out she was a Latter-day Saint.
By then our talks were so enjoyable I began spending lunch hours with Nese and her Mormon friends. They were refreshing to be around. No smoking, no swearing, no improper jokes. Best of all, they never seemed to ridicule anybody—they respected each other’s feelings. It was different being with them, and I enjoyed it.
Towards the end of the school year, Karen invited me to a Gold and Green Ball, I had no idea what that was. I had never been to a dance in a church, and I had to dress in a suit! I was amazed to see a gymnasium in a church building.
But what went on in the gym surprised me even more. Adults and teenagers were talking, laughing, and even dancing together. My friends had always thought it was childish to like your parents. All over the nation there was an uproar about communication breakdown between parents and their children. But these people all seemed to be friends, regardless of age.
I asked Karen about it. She said it was because of the Church. As she took me on a tour of the building, I pondered what she had said. By the time I went home that night, I felt these people were unique, they were choice in some way I didn’t fully understand. They had a lot to be proud of.
After graduation my summer job took me away from my new-found group of friends. I was employed at a gas station, where I was unhappy because of my co-workers’ lack of concern. I was depressed, unhappy, and alone.
One afternoon in July, Nese and a friend drove up to the station. Just seeing them boosted my morale. They were planning to sing in the Oakland Temple Pageant and invited me to attend.
I’ll always remember that special evening. It was the first time I heard the story of Joseph Smith and learned the history of the Latter-day Saints I had grown to admire. At the end of the pageant, the audience rose and sang “The Spirit of God Like a Fire Is Burning.” (Hymns No. 213) How I wanted to know the words of the song so I could join the chorus! I felt completely full of respect and love.
The crowd left slowly. Standing in the parking lot, I looked up at the temple. A voice in the back of my mind told me that some day I would enter that building.
When fall came, Nese left to attend Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. I returned to Berkeley, California. Loneliness encompassed me again. Nese’s letters arrived regularly, two or three times weekly. I asked her why she was Mormon. The next letter bulged the envelope. It was a detailed explanation of her struggle to remain active and maintain a firm testimony while living with her inactive family.
I decided I had to go to church. That was a difficult decision because no one pushed me to attend. I had been allowed to come to the conclusion by myself.
I nearly changed my mind when I opened the door. I entered the chapel by myself, spotted an empty seat on the back row, and quickly sat down. Was I going to be all alone here, too? I wondered inside.
Then suddenly Karen, who had appeared from nowhere, was shaking my hand. “Good morning, David,” she said, grinning. I wasn’t alone anymore. She introduced me to people, showed me which class to go to, and sat beside me the entire time.
I was impressed to find a class I could bring my questions to and get answers. Furthermore, the teacher, Sister Booras, took time afterwards to thank me for coming. “You added a great deal to our class,” she said. I had never felt so at home before.
But I still didn’t have that spiritual testimony of the Church; I could believe in many of its teachings, but I didn’t know it was true. I kept attending the meetings anyway.
One month later, Nese urged me to come to Brigham Young University. I jumped at the chance and rushed to Provo for a whirlwind visit. She described her school as if it were part of her. As we walked around campus, all we talked about was religion. My mind was overflowing with questions again, as it had been in the high school library. I still didn’t see how everything fit together.
The thing that held me back was the principle of eternal progression. “It just can’t be right.” I said, “How can man, who was created by God, ever hope to be a god?”
We were standing in front of the Joseph Smith Building. Nese paused for a moment.
“Dave,” she said, “before we were ever created physically, we were created spiritually as God’s sons and daughters. A part of us, our spirit, comes directly from him as our Father.”
I finally understood! It all fell into place. My grin spread to a smile and erupted as a laugh. I couldn’t stop grinning. My mind jumped from doctrine to doctrine. “Yes, yes, it all fits!” I wanted to dance or sing or run.
There, on the steps of the Joseph Smith Building, the Spirit bore witness to me of the gospel plan. I knew in my heart I would join the Church.
I still had to read the Book of Mormon, learn to pray, and take the missionary discussions. But my life was changed from that moment on. I had found truth, purpose, and a life to fulfill. Five weeks later I was baptized.
Eighteen months later, my impression that I would one day enter the Oakland Temple came true, as I received my endowments one week before leaving on a mission. When I returned, Nese and I decided to continue the eternal journey we had begun with conversations at a table in a library. We were married in the Provo Temple.
Every time I look at my wife, I thank the Lord that there was a girl in my high school with enough faith to “just want to share her beliefs with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” She touched my heart and changed my life.

Just the same, I was a father trying to raise daughters on my own. I sought to create one-on-one time with both of them to strengthen our relationships. Yet how could I help them prepare to be women? I soon found there were more resources than I imagined:
Ministering brothers and Church leaders. My ministering brothers coordinated with the ward council, and it seemed that everyone in the ward, especially Primary and Young Women leaders, went out of their way to help my girls. I learned that one of the great things about the Relief Society is that they offer, well, relief. Once, a group of them cleaned my whole house, top to bottom. And at Young Women activities, someone always made sure my daughters felt included.

At 5 a.m. on a Tuesday morning in April 2022, a group of youth and leaders gathered at Heathrow Airport. Although there were a few tired faces, everybody was excited for the trip ahead of them. The travelers were members of the Staines Ward, Staines England Stake, and they were getting ready to board a plane heading for Stockholm, Sweden.
The ward’s Swedish bishop, Örjan Olsson, and his family had moved to England a few years prior. Ever since then, he had dreamt of taking the youth to his beautiful homeland. Now, it was finally time.
After the plane landed in Stockholm, the group traveled by train to the Stockholm Sweden Temple. They would be staying in the temple accommodations for the duration of their 3-night trip. Bishop Olsson’s parents, who lived in the area and worked at the temple, were there to greet the group and had lunch prepared for the starving teenagers. Once physically fed, the youth walked over to the temple where they would spend the afternoon being spiritually fed while performing proxy baptisms and confirmations.
Every morning of the trip would be spent in the same manner—food and temple work. After breakfast (and sometimes before), the eager youth would go in groups to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead. They had a goal to perform 1,000 baptisms. In preparation for the trip, the youth had searched their family trees to find ancestors in need of temple work and had collected names from ward members. The pile of names grew even larger once in Sweden, as other temple patrons heard about the group and asked if the youth would be willing to perform the work for some of their ancestors. The youth worked hard to reach their goal. One morning, each young man and young woman performed 25 proxy baptisms. By the end of the trip, the youth had exceeded their goal and completed 1,250 baptisms and confirmations.
A particularly special moment occurred one morning while a group of youth were in the temple. A couple entered the baptistry and asked the youth if they would be willing to perform the proxy baptisms for the woman’s sister who had passed away. Tears flowed down the couple’s cheeks as they watched a priest and young woman enter the font and perform the proxy baptism. The Spirit could be felt by everyone in the baptistry as the Holy Ghost bore witness of the importance of the work being done.
When not working in the temple, the Staines party enjoyed learning about Sweden’s sights and culture and getting to know the members of Sweden. One afternoon was spent exploring central Stockholm where the youth were able to try Swedish food (the Swedish meatballs were delicious), take in the colourful buildings, buy souvenirs, and enjoy each other’s company. The youth also had the chance to get to know the youth of the local Swedish wards. They laughed their way through the nerves and awkwardness of speed dating and had fun playing games. On the last evening, the youth came together for a testimony meeting where they bore powerful testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel in both English and Swedish.
Before heading to the airport, the travelers had to make one more stop—a Swedish pick-and-mix candy store. Once everybody had a bag full of Swedish candy, the group headed to the airport and headed back to England, where they landed safely late that night.
This unique temple trip was a cultural and spiritual feast for all those who had the blessing to attend. Of course, none of it would have been possible without the wonderful efforts of many people—the hard-working and positive youth, the leaders who helped organized the international trip, those who served in the kitchens, the dedicated temple workers, the kind temple president who taught spiritual truths (as well as cycling and competitive badminton), the entire Olsson family, and the welcoming members of Stockholm. Bonds were formed and strengthened, and everyone who made the journey returned with hearts full of love—for Sweden, for each other, and for the Lord.

One of the most important parts of a successful home teaching visit is preparing and sharing a lesson. Every other month Brandon Stewart gives the lesson. Brandon has learned how to prepare a lesson by watching his senior companion, his father. Thanks to his dad’s good example, giving the lesson is Brandon’s favorite part of home teaching.
To prepare his lesson, Brandon starts by reading the First Presidency Message in the Ensign. He picks the parts he thinks may help the family he will be teaching. He then adds his personal experiences and feelings about the topic and concludes his lesson just as his father does, by bearing his testimony.

Few are aware of the pure Christian service being administered at refugee camps in Thailand and in the Philippines by our missionary sisters. Basically, these sisters are restricted to teaching the English language and Western culture, but there is a deeper teaching that takes place through their pure love and sweet attitude toward these displaced people.
The story is told of a young camp refugee from Cambodia who was relocated in California. He found his way into one of our Church meetinghouses because the name of the Church on the sign out front corresponded with the one he used to look at each day on the name tag of the wonderful missionary sister who taught him at the camp. People don’t soon forget acts of simple kindness. Pure love can transcend all differences.

Theresa also has had a special experience. Soon after she was baptized, Theresa began preparing to go to the Tokyo Temple to perform vicarious baptisms for her deceased ancestors, who did not have the opportunity to receive the fulness of Christ’s gospel in this life. Through the efforts of those around the world doing indexing of public records, and with help from ward members and the missionaries, Theresa was able to find long lost information about her father, who died when she was young. This was such a blessing, as many family records were destroyed by bombings during wars in Sierra Leone. The database was updated just before her baptism. She was then able to prepare his name, her grandmother’s, and others to receive baptism and other temple ordinances.

On Sunday April 2nd, the morning of General Conference, Sister Deneen Kenchington, Deputy Head of Ferndown Upper School and Relief Society President of Christchurch Ward, Poole Stake, received a phone call from a teacher who was with around 60 students on their way to Europe for a skiing trip.
Mr Howard, the teacher, informed Deneen that they were stuck at Dover Port due to a critical incident. They, along with hundreds of others, had been there for about 14 hours. They couldn’t move forward, and they couldn’t move back.
The students on the coach had run out of food and water, and the teachers that were with the students didn’t know what to do. The situation was turning pretty dire.
Deneen’s first thought was that she would go to the supermarket, fill up her car with supplies and drive the six hours or so to Dover. Then the thought came that as much as she wanted to do that, it just was not practical.
Deneen got on her knees and prayed for some guidance. She then phoned President Steve Cottrell of the Poole Stake Presidency and asked for the phone number of the nearest Bishop to the Port of Dover.
Deneen phoned Bishop Rudloff of the Deal Ward, explained the situation, and without missing a beat he said “We can help, I have people I can call to help”. Deneen gave Bishop Rudloff Mr Howard’s phone number, a phone call was made, and the plan was in place.
Bishop Rudloff said that his first thought was very similar to Deneen’s, that he would load up his car and drive to the port, but then he realised that his son Joshua, who was staying with some friends and their family, was much closer to the Port. He phoned Joshua, who along with his friends Angel, Lou Lou and Ciaran Rickard from the Deal Ward, jumped into action and within an hour they were at the Port of Dover with enough supplies for all the students and teachers.
Miraculously, the group were able to get through Port Authority, find the coach, deliver the supplies, pass on their best wishes, then turn around and leave.
The teachers and students offered to pay for the supplies, but this amazing bunch of young adults would hear none of it, and they left the teachers and students totally blown away by the kindness and goodness of strangers.
Word soon spread around the school community about Bishop Rudloff, the young adults, and the church, and how amazing it was that they served without wanting recompense or reward. The Church is now synonymous with service and generosity within the school. Both staff and students alike will not forget how their lives were touched for good.
Bishop Rudloff said that as well as the wonderful opportunity to give service to those in need, what was also wonderful was the trust that a Relief Society President had in others that she had never met. Deneen knew she could call and ask for help and that the help would be given.