Gospel Story Finder

What started out as a simple conversation about temple work and a desire to see the different temples in the area turned into a full-scale youth conference for the young men and women of the Salt Lake Valley First Ward (Deaf). They decided not only to visit but also to perform baptisms for the dead at several temples in their area.
Over the summer, the youth were able to do work for 1,196 souls; many of them were names provided by ward members or even family names the youth had researched. “Every time you visit the temple you can feel the Spirit,” said Austin Duran, 14. “As you visit the temple more, your spirit becomes stronger and you become attached to the temple and want to go all of the time.”
Many of the youth have gained a new perspective on the importance of the temple as a result of their temple service youth conference. “I have a new standard,” explained Riley Case, 13. “Now every time I think of something I should or shouldn’t do, I decide if that will help me go to the temple or not.”

Illustration by Mark Robison
Abby loved her house. But not the coat closet. She was afraid a monster would jump out of it. Abby always ran by it as fast as she could.
“Why do we even have a closet, Mommy?” Abby asked one day. “I don’t like being afraid.”
“Sometimes we’re afraid of what we can’t see,” Mommy said. “You can’t see what’s behind the door. Maybe that’s what scares you.”
“I always think there might be monsters,” Abby said.
“I promise there are no monsters. But you could say a prayer to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help you not feel scared,” Mommy said.
“OK,” Abby said.
The next day Abby was playing in her room. Mommy called her to come eat. Abby jumped up. Dinner smelled really good.
She started down the hall. Then she saw the coat closet waiting at the end.
Abby’s tummy felt tight. She thought about what might be hiding behind the closet door. She wanted to run. Then she thought about what Mommy had said. Abby stopped walking. She folded her arms.
“Please help me to not be so afraid,” Annie prayed.
Abby took two slow steps. She didn’t feel afraid any more! She felt warm and safe. She felt like she did when Mommy gave her a hug.
This time Abby didn’t run past the closet. She stopped right in front of it. She reached out. She touched the handle. Her tummy got tight for a few seconds, but then she remembered her happy feeling. She turned the knob and pulled the door open.
Abby laughed. “Hey! There aren’t any monsters in here. Just a bunch of coats.”
She folded her arms again. She bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, thank you for helping me not be afraid.”
Abby smiled and closed the closet door. She was hungry!

Imagine spending girls’ camp on a tropical island in the Pacific with white sandy beaches and crystal blue ocean waves. Now imagine girls’ camp with 90 percent humidity in 90-degree heat, snakes, spiders, and centipedes. When you live in Okinawa, Japan, and go to camp on the island of Tokishiki, you get a little of both.
The mountainous and seaside scenery was great, and so was the spirit. The theme was service, so the girls got lots of ideas for serving their families and communities back home and for serving each other at the camp. “I guess that’s what girls’ camp is about,” said Laurel Katrina Voyce. “You learn camping skills, but you also learn about yourself and Heavenly Father.”

Many years ago there came to Utah a learned prelate of [another] church … , and I had a conversation with him. He had been to a “Mormon” sacrament meeting and had much to say in criticism of our method of administering the Lord’s Supper, particularly our use of water instead of wine on such occasions. He said it made him shudder when he saw the people sipping the water; and he pointed out the fact, for it is a fact, that according to the Bible the Savior, when He instituted the sacrament among the Jews, used wine, declaring that it was His blood or that it represented His blood. I could add that the Book of Mormon also states that the Savior used wine when He introduced the sacrament among the Nephites.

My … friend, whether he knew it or not, had hit upon the great distinguishing feature that differentiates God’s Church from all other churches under the sun—is this, that while they are founded upon books and traditions and the precepts of men, this Church is built upon the rock of Christ, upon the principle of immediate and continuous revelation. The Latter-day Saints do not do things because they happen to be printed in a book. They do not do things because God told the Jews to do them; nor do they do or leave undone anything because of instructions that Christ gave to the Nephites.

Ryder was so excited. His best friend, Jacob, had agreed to go to church with him! Ryder loved playing with Jacob. They played video games together and pretended they were dinosaurs. Ryder just knew Jacob would love Primary.
When Ryder and Jacob got to their class, Sister Johnson smiled and welcomed Jacob. Ryder smiled too.
Then, during the opening prayer, Jacob poked Ryder and talked right out loud. Ryder was worried. Jacob was great at playing video games and being a pretend dinosaur, but maybe he didn’t know how to be reverent.
Sister Johnson had everyone show how to sit during prayer. She reminded them that they were speaking to Heavenly Father and they should listen to the words of the prayer. Ryder watched Jacob listen closely to Sister Johnson. Maybe no one has ever taught Jacob about prayer before, Ryder thought.
Later Jacob made his handout into a plane and kept throwing it around the room. During sharing time he wouldn’t sit still. While Sister Myers led everyone in singing Ryder’s favorite song, Jacob kept jumping out of his chair.
“Jacob, you need to stay in your chair,” Ryder whispered. “You need to be reverent.”
“What does reverent mean?” Jacob asked.
Ryder was surprised that Jacob had never learned what it meant to be reverent.
“It means you sit quietly and fold your arms like this,” Ryder said, showing his friend. “This way, it’s easier to learn about Jesus.”
Jacob sat in his chair and copied what Ryder did.
Ryder was glad that Jacob was learning, but he still felt bad that his friend hadn’t been reverent for most of church that day. At the end of Primary, he went up to Sister Johnson.
“I’m sorry about how Jacob acted,” he said. “He’s never been to church before.”
Sister Johnson put her arm around Ryder’s shoulders. “That’s OK, Ryder. I’m so glad Jacob is here today,” she said. “Primary is for everyone. I hope he’ll come with you again.”
Ryder had a warm feeling inside. He looked at the picture of Jesus on the wall. He knew Jesus loved all children and wanted them to be closer to Him. He was glad his friend had been able to come to church and learn more about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

When Joel Hiller of Taylorsville, Utah, saw the white envelope his mother had placed on the kitchen table, his heart jumped, and he could hardly wait until his family and two close friends were able to join him at his home a few hours later.

After what seemed like the longest three hours of Joel’s life, major excitement erupted as everyone gathered together, talking, laughing, and speculating. But a spiritual calm suddenly filled the room as Joel opened the envelope and began to read aloud the words of the prophet: “Dear Elder Hiller, You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Joel describes what he experienced as he continued reading the letter: “I felt honored to be called, and the Spirit bore an immediate witness that this was the right thing and the right mission for me. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

“I think this is great,” said Elizabeth Toomalatai, 18, who, although not LDS, participated in the youth conference. “People get together and work—and have fun—at the same time!” Elizabeth, whose brother served a mission and is currently attending BYU, says she came to The Ranch with some friends “to see how members of the Church get together.” She added, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Now let’s walk over to the campanile,” Mother suggested.
“What’s a campanile?” asked Mary Ann.
“A campanile is a bell tower that is built separate from a church,” replied Mother. “The bell in this campanile is the Nauvoo bell. It was made in England, shipped across the Atlantic Ocean, and hung in the Nauvoo Temple. It was carried across the plains by oxcart. The Relief Society sisters had the campanile built to protect the bell.”

“You know, this reminds me of something that happened to me about a year ago in the Netherlands.”
Great. An inspiring missionary story. I sighed and settled against my pillows to listen, resolving that nothing he could say would make me change my mind.
“One afternoon, my companion noticed we’d run out of milk, and since we had a really busy day ahead of us, we decided to pick some up at a small store on our way home from our last teaching appointment. We’d been walking everywhere all day long, and we were pretty tired by the time we bought the milk. The girl at the register rushed us through her line without really looking at us, and it wasn’t until we made it back to our apartment that I noticed we had more money than before we’d bought the milk.”
I lifted my eyebrows at him. “Really? How so?”
“Money in the Netherlands is called guilders. A five-guilder piece is about the same size as a 500-guilder piece, and they look alike, too. As part of my change, she should’ve given me a five guilder, but instead, she’d given me a 500 by mistake. So, in American terms, she’d given me five dollars back instead of five cents.”
“Wow. Of course, you took the money back, right?”
“I wasn’t going to. I mean, it was her mistake, not mine, right? It was late, we were both tired, and it was a good 15-minute walk back to the store. Plus, an extra five dollars would’ve helped us out that month. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more angry I became thinking about the position that girl’s thoughtlessness had put me in. I knew I wasn’t a dishonest person, and I hated feeling like I was one if I didn’t take back an insignificant 500-guilder piece.”
“It’s not fair.”
“No, Jenn, it’s not. Everything isn’t always fair. If it was, we’d never learn a thing. Realizing this, my companion and I walked back to the store, barely arriving before closing time. The girl was still there, counting the register’s money, rubbing her head and looking pretty worried. She looked up when we came in, both of us in our suits and nametags, and said, ‘You two were here before, weren’t you?’ I simply said yes, and put the 500 guilder on the counter between us. ‘We bought some milk today, and I think you gave us too much change.’ She looked so relieved I thought she was going to cry. ‘I’ve been trying to count my register’s money for almost an hour now, and I couldn’t figure out where I went wrong.’ She looked at us curiously then said, ‘You’re Mormons, aren’t you?’ I laughed and asked her what gave us away. She laughed, too, before saying that she couldn’t believe we’d come back. When I asked her why, she said, ‘Because no one here has ever done that before.’
“Later, the realization came to me that we may have been the first real contact she’d ever had with the Church, and even though we hadn’t taught her a discussion, we’d left her with the knowledge that Mormons are honest people, and that maybe it would help her become a little curious about our church.” He picked up my receipt and fiddled with it before continuing.
“One of the questions you’re asked during a temple recommend interview is whether or not you’re honest in all of your dealings. Honesty is a hard principle to live—harder than most people realize. There will be plenty of times in your life when being honest won’t leave you with a good, warm feeling at first. Often times, you may walk away feeling frustrated—even angry. Especially concerning financial matters, where every dime counts. Five-hundred guilders here, $150 there may seem insignificant. But little by little, something much more valuable is being lost: your integrity.
“Strengthening your integrity through honesty takes a lot of hard work—work that often goes unnoticed or unappreciated. But the payoff comes when you realize that each time you’re honest, it’s that much easier to be honest when the next challenge comes around. That’s when you know you’re building character, one of the most important works you can spend your time on. Your character and integrity are far too precious to sell for $150—or for 500 guilders.”

I walked quickly to the campus library, a number of thoughts racing through my mind. The sun was bright, and the mountains stood majestic against the blue sky, begging me to stop and look for a while. But there was no time. Despite the beauty of the day, I had to study. Other students passed me, anxious as I was to prepare for mid-term examinations. I felt, however, that they would not have the same difficulty studying that I would experience. I tried to stop these negative thoughts, telling myself that this time it would be different. As I entered the university library, I mentally reviewed the composers I needed to know for my humanities test.
Music had always been a part of my life. Not only did I love music, but I loved to write words to simple melodies. Sometimes the words would be serious, expressing my innermost feelings; other times they would be silly, usually written to entertain the children I tended. Now here I was at a university studying the humanities and having a difficult time. Try as I might, for several weeks I had not been able to remember the information needed to do well in my schoolwork. Maybe I would do better today.
I quickly put my coat on a nearby chair and opened my humanities book. Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, born 1756 in Austria and died 1791. Composer of …
It started. “Not today!” I silently prayed. “Oh please, not today!” A confusion and blackness interfered with my thoughts. For two weeks now I had battled this. Every time I tried to concentrate on an important matter it happened. A stream of black, evil thoughts from an outside force would fill my mind. As a recent convert to the Church I was just learning ways to overcome the adversary. I had tried prayer, asking the Lord for help. But still this black cloud entered my thought process making it impossible to study or read.
Wofgang Amadeus Mozart, born 17 … 16. … I couldn’t remember. I felt my mind being pulled in different directions. As I tried to memorize, a hazy blackness distorted my thinking. Wolfgang … Mozart, what was his middle name? Words bounced around in my head having nothing to do with the subject at hand. Try again. Ignore the confusion in your mind. Who was I studying? I glanced back at the page telling of Mozart’s life. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, born 1756 … a flood of vulgar words entered my mind.
Frustration mounted within me as the intensity of this blackness grew stronger. I felt my head would burst. My eyes filled with tears. “Please, Father,” I pleaded silently, “please help me. I can’t go through this much longer.”
No sooner had I offered up this prayer than the heavens responded. Cutting through the confusion, a beautiful poem was spoken to my mind—not only spoken, but imprinted so that after hearing it only once I knew it by memory. Each word was clear and full of meaning. The mental anguish I had experienced moments before gave way to a beautiful message of hope:
Fear not, I am with thee;
Oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee,
And cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.
For the next few minutes I sat awestruck, marveling over what had happened. It was hard for me to grasp the idea that God not only answered my prayer but answered it in an artistic way. Not that I thought him incapable, but I found it hard to comprehend that God would take time to relate to my specific personality in such a personal way. I repeated each word to myself, thinking about God’s message to me. He really loved and cared about me. He knew all the frustrations I had experienced, and before they became too much to handle, came to my aid. I believed what he said to me; he would never forsake me. I let the wonder of this experience fill my soul as I studied for my test.

Other Minnesota youth are busy setting a good example, too. Maggie Albaugh, a Laurel in the Anoka stake, stepped outside her comfort zone when she taught a girl in her class to pray. Katie was one of the more popular girls in her school, and Maggie didn’t know her very well. “She’d never prayed and was never into religion,” Maggie says.
The sudden death of one of their friends brought them, and their whole class, closer together. Katie stopped Maggie in the halls of their school, knowing of her LDS standards, to ask her questions about life and death. “The only advice I could give her was the simple advice to pray,” Maggie says. “I just felt that, as Mormon youth, prayer helps us through a lot of things and a lot of people don’t have the same understanding of prayer. It is a gift that was given to us to communicate with our Heavenly Father.”
So Katie prayed, and at a memorial service for their friend, she shared with her class the comfort she had received through prayer.

One day at school I was taking a spelling test, and my teacher called out a word I had no idea how to spell. I was panicking! And I looked at someone’s paper. After the test my stomach wasn’t feeling good. I told my mom about how I looked at someone else’s paper. I knew that the feeling I got was from the Holy Ghost. I know I should always listen to the Holy Ghost.

Jonah J., age 8, Idaho, USA

My parents helped me prepare for my baptism and to understand the reasons why I needed to be baptized. I started reading the Book of Mormon with my mother, and the more we read, the more I liked it.
Later, the missionaries taught me, and I started understanding the things I learned in Primary. When the missionaries asked if I wanted to take upon me the name of Christ, I was a little scared because I knew the responsibilities baptism brought with it. But I said yes—I wanted to be baptized as soon as I turned 8.
On November 14, 2004, I was baptized a member of the Church. Since then, I have faced many situations that have caused me to remember that I need to always live the way Jesus Christ did. For example, my sisters are 7 and 2 years old, and now I know what kind of example I need to be for them. I try to take care of my sister at school and help her behave. I work hard at school, and at home I always try to be quieter so my sisters will do the same. I help my mom fix breakfast every Sunday, and I have started fasting on the first Sunday of the month like my parents.
As I try to do the things that Jesus taught, I can see blessings. My parents teach me to feel the Savior’s love in all the things I do. I am eagerly waiting for the day when I can serve a mission.

2 The Prophet received a revelation in which the Lord said that the Saints were to work hard and share all that they had with each other.
3 Goods of all kinds were to be taken to the Church storehouse to be distributed according to the bishop’s orders.
4 Four days later Joseph received another revelation: If widows, orphans, or any other members were needy, they were to be provided for through the Church storehouse.
5 The revelation also said that husbands are to love and care for their wives, and parents are to love and care for their children.

I had a lovely exchange at the Saturday Review with, I guess, a sweet lady. I had rejected some of her poems. I have to reject a lot of them. I get about 500 a week, and I can only accept two. But she took my rejection personally, as many people do, and wrote me a hot letter. I had not remembered the poem, but she said, “I suppose you rejected my poem because it was about God.”
I had to reply. “Dear Madam: No, I did not reject your poem because it was about God. I rejected it because I could not conquer a feeling that you were not equal to your subject.”

It wasn’t until 1975, after Bert and Amanda had returned to Hawaii, that Bert’s testimony of the living prophet was solidly confirmed. Bert had been asked to assist with security measures for President Spencer W. Kimball who was making a short visit to Bogota. Bert’s description of the experience is a moving testimony of the prophet’s influence:
“President Kimball shook my hand, and it felt like electricity going up my arm. He looked into my eyes, and that was it; I knew. We were together a good deal of the time, and it was the most wonderful experience.
“We had family home evening at the mission home, and I was the only one without my family. I sat right next to President Kimball, and he put his arm around me. Then we knelt down, and the mission president asked the President to give the family prayer. My whole life changed in those moments; I just knew he was a prophet. It was the full conversion.”
Meanwhile, Amanda recalls with a knowing smile, while Bert was with the President, “things weren’t going too well back home. I was in a car accident; I wasn’t hurt, but the car was damaged.”
“You have to understand,” adds Bert, “that I was a person who had to have everything neat and clean. You didn’t touch my car, because you might leave a fingerprint on it.”
Amanda says their two sons, “Duane and Doug, kept saying, ‘Oh, boy, wait until Dad comes home and sees the car.’ The day Bert arrived home, they wouldn’t even go to the airport with me to meet him, so I went by myself; there hadn’t been time to get the car fixed.”
But something had changed. “Bert came off that airplane, and I think he was walking above the ground. When he saw me, all he could talk about was what a great experience it was to be with the prophet. He went right past the damaged fender on the car and didn’t even see it.
“When we got home, the boys were peeking out from behind the drapes. Bert said, ‘Okay, when my boys are hiding, something’s happened.’ So I had to show him the damaged fender. He looked at it, turned to me, and said, ‘Oh, Mom, I’m really glad you didn’t get hurt.’ Then he gave me a big hug.”

“What Was I Cut Out to Be? (A Special Kind of Girl, That’s What!)” was the theme chosen by the North Ogden Utah Ben Lomond Stake Young Women for a Super Saturday last spring.
The walls of the hall were decorated with life-sized paper dolls dressed in clothing that represented different lifestyles. Fuzzy black-haired dolls complete with stands and surrounded by wardrobes were used as table centerpieces, alternating with wicker baskets full of paper-doll shaped sugar cookies. After a breakfast snack of apple fritters and orange juice, the workshops began. The girls were given a booklet that contained information on each of the topics to be discussed.
First on the program was make-up specialist Karen Clawson who taught about skin care and the correct use of makeup. To help convey the points more effectively, Margo Treece and Judy McGarry demonstrated while Sister Clawson narrated. They were followed by cosmetologists Faye Stacy and Janet Bingham who demonstrated new and creative hairstyles on volunteers from the audience. Hair-trimming and blow-combing were also taught. The final workshop was presented by Becky Toone who talked about color, style, and wardrobe planning.
For many, the most exciting event was the introduction of the “Cinderellas.” One girl from each ward had been chosen to spend the week learning how she could improve her own personal appearance. Specialists had worked with the girls on skin care, makeup, hair-styling, and clothing selections. Slides were shown of each of the girls “before” their week of education, followed by each of the girls modeling her new look.
Finishing out the morning was a fashion show, followed by a luncheon. Afterwards, a returned missionary who was married in the temple spoke to the girls about the importance of staying morally clean and spiritually beautiful. “Boys are attracted to girls who try to make themselves beautiful physically,” he said, “but more important is the ‘inner beauty’ a girl possesses.” A dating panel consisting of young men from the area concluded the full afternoon.

“But how can you go on a mission? I’m getting married, and you’re the only member of my family who can come. You’re my mom! I mean, it’s only the most important day of my life. What kind of wedding is it going to be for me with no family to celebrate?”
I remember the conversation as if it were yesterday. I was a freshman from California going to Brigham Young University planning to marry George, a quiet boy from Manti, Utah, who had just returned from his mission to Italy. My parents had divorced when I was 12, but I had a wonderful non-LDS father, two inactive sisters, and a devout and adventurous LDS mom who, at age 47, had decided to go on a mission. She would leave just months before my scheduled wedding day in the Manti Utah Temple.
Mom hadn’t intentionally planned to miss my wedding, but she hadn’t told anyone about sending in her mission papers. George and I had surprised everyone, including ourselves, with a Valentine engagement and a May wedding date. I cried for days. It seemed the event I’d been so anxiously awaiting was now a source of great sorrow and disappointment.
George called my dad to explain why we were getting married in the temple, since my dad would not be able to attend. My father’s voice was thick with emotion as he questioned my fiancé. George explained how much he loved me and how he wanted to convey that love by entering into a marriage that, if worked toward, would last through eternity. He also told my father how much we loved and respected him.
My father shared his feelings of love for us and said he understood, but listening on the other line, I could hear tones of doubt and disappointment in his voice. I was his youngest child, and he wouldn’t even have the chance to give me away in a traditional wedding. I hung up the phone and cried for two more days.
My mom left for her mission, and I concentrated on school and preparing for finals. Preparations for my May wedding almost became an afterthought. In fact, my attention would not have been as focused on wedding plans if a girl in my dorm, Teresa, had not also become engaged on Valentine’s Day.
Teresa and her fiancé were planning to marry in the Salt Lake Temple and have a large reception afterwards. Each weekend she would go to Salt Lake to work with her mother on the preparations. And each Monday, Teresa would return with stories about their progress, including a detailed description of her beautiful dress.
I was making my own dress, and since I only managed a C minus on my apron project in 10th grade home economics class, the design was, needless to say, simple. I had chosen cotton material with six satin-covered buttons down the front and a bit of lace around each cuff. It cost 30 dollars. My terrific dorm mom helped me put it together during finals week.
I remember sitting at the sewing machine late one night picking out stitches from yet another seam and grumbling about Teresa’s professional fittings into a gown with yards and yards of cascading white satin draped with hand-sewn French lace. I could imagine that Teresa must look like a dream bride as the seamstress would pamper and pin and her mother would compliment and cry.
I’d cry, too, every time I thought about Teresa and her plans. It wasn’t that Teresa was flaunting her good fortune. It was me, not she, who had some repenting to do.
I awoke on my wedding day to sunshine and the smell of lilacs. I pushed open the small second-story window and felt a gentle May breeze dance its way past me into the room. The Manti Utah Temple stood gleaming on the hillside, beckoning.
As I turned from the window, I saw my simple white dress hanging on a wall hook by the side of the bed. Someone had lovingly pressed out the travel wrinkles and quietly hung it there while I was sleeping. Tears welled up in my eyes. I missed my mom, dad, and sisters. I wanted them with me. How could I possibly get married with no family, no reception, and no gorgeous gown?
Then, as my eyes rested on my 30-dollar dress, the Spirit spoke clearly to my soul: What you do in faith is rewarded in power.
I caught my breath. I wasn’t marrying for this moment, or even this lifetime, but for eternity. Against earthly disappointments, I was manifesting my testimony in action. I loved my Heavenly Father, I had faith in His system of marriage, and because of that faith He would bless our union with power.
It was true. We are now celebrating nearly 30 years of joyful commitment. Even though there have been times of miscommunication, disappointment, and struggle, the power of eternal bonding has pulled us through. We look across the breakfast table at each other and think, There is my very best friend.
The power has also extended to other family members. My mother and I are great friends. And my father, even though he has now passed on, truly did honor and respect George and me as “young people with stability in this crazy, mixed-up world.” My sisters, although still not active in the Church, are beginning to see some consistency in what George and I have put together.
Please don’t think I’m flaunting my good fortune. I’m just so exuberant about the wondrous ability God has to bless our lives if we put our faith in Him. It’s that simple. Love Him, trust Him, and the miracle of eternal sealing can happen, even in a 30-dollar dress.

The New Era has been a great source of inspiration to me ever since I was a young boy. I have been called to serve a mission in a foreign land, which requires eight weeks of training in the Missionary Training Center. Other missionaries had told me what a great place the MTC is, but I didn’t know exactly what to expect until I read “The Language of the Spirit” in the October New Era. I can’t wait to go, and I am very excited.
Gary L. LongmorePocatello, Idaho

When Ruby and I knelt in the Salt Lake Temple at the altar on September 4, 1930, holding hands and looking at one another, little did we ever realize what would lie ahead for us. We were two young people. I had come out of the country in southern Idaho, and Ruby had come out of Sanpete County, Utah. Our fathers were dead, but we had two wonderful widowed mothers, and they were with us in the temple. As we knelt and made covenants and promises, I knew that that was for real.
Now, after we have been married 70 years, I can say to all of you that it gets better, that it gets better year after year, with the preciousness and the tenderness and the realization of some of the eternal blessings that lie ahead for us. And so to all of you I would say, and Ruby would join with me if she could be standing here, that life can be wonderful and so meaningful, but we have to live it in a simple way. We must live the principles of the gospel. For it is the gospel in our lives that makes the difference as we wend our way through life.