Let me relate a personal experience I had with For the Strength of Youth.
Sister Tingey and I were living in Africa. I was sent to a little country by the name of Burundi in east-central Africa. Several faithful families had been holding Church services in their homes, and they desired to have missionaries assigned to help them.
I met with a fine gentleman who represented the government. I explained who we were, what we taught, and how establishing our Church in his country would bless the lives of the people. When I finished, he said, “I do not see where anything you have told me is any different from what is currently available in our country. I see no reason to approve your request to bring missionaries into our country.”
I was devastated. My meeting was almost over, and in a moment I would be ushered out. I prayed secretly in my heart for something to say. In an instant a thought came to my mind. I reached into my wallet and pulled out a little copy of the For the Strength of Youth booklet, which I have always carried. In the remaining moments of our visit, I quickly shared with him how each of the young people in our Church had a copy of this pamphlet. I read some of the topics and explained that we teach our young people these patterns.
“You mean to tell me you expect the youth of your church to live these standards?” he asked.
“Yes, and they do,” I replied.
“That is amazing,” he said. “Could you send me some of these booklets so that I could distribute them to the youth of my church?”
I returned to Johannesburg and sent about 500 copies of the pamphlets in French and English. A month or so later we received official recognition from the government of Burundi, authorizing our Church to be established in that country.
I do not know the significance of my participation in that event, but I definitely know that the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet was quickly recognized by this good man as something of great value and was likely instrumental in our securing official recognition.
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Establishing Eternal Patterns
Summary: While living in Africa, the speaker met with a Burundian government official to request permission for missionaries. Initially denied, he prayed and then shared the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet, which impressed the official. After sending copies, the Church received official recognition in Burundi.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Other
Missionary Work
Prayer
Religious Freedom
Revelation
Teaching the Gospel
Young Men
Young Women
Lester’s Leaf House
Summary: Lester is reluctant to rake leaves until his mother invites him to jump into the pile and then shows him how to build a leaf house. They enthusiastically expand the house with rooms and pretend to share a milkshake. As evening comes, they close the leaf house and go inside their real home for dinner, planning to enjoy the leaf house again later.
Lester and his mother were in their backyard, raking leaves. Actually, Lester’s mother was raking leaves. Lester was leaning on his rake.
“Lester,” Mother said as she continued to add leaves to her large leaf pile, “when I was a little girl—”
“I know, I know—don’t tell me, Mother.” Lester loved to tease his mother. “When you were a little girl, you didn’t have three maple trees in your backyard—you had three thousand, so there were zillions of leaves all over the place. But you never stopped raking. Not even for a minute. Not even if it started to rain. Nope, you didn’t stop until every single leaf was in your pile.”
Lester’s mother smiled. “Three thousand maple trees! Goodness, Lester, I didn’t grow up in the woods! No, what I was going to tell you was that when I was a little girl, I used to love jumping into leaf piles.”
“What? Didn’t that mess the leaf piles up?”
“Well, I suppose it did,” Mother said. “But it was sure a lot of fun!”
“Fun?” Was this the same mother who ordered him to stay away from mud puddles and who wouldn’t let him bring worms into the house? Was she teasing him?
“Yes, fun. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“All right.” Lester shrugged, trotted over to his mother’s leaf pile, and took a half-hearted leap.
Scrunch! Crackle! Crunch! The leaf pile had become a king-size, autumn-scented pillow!
Lester giggled. His mother was right. Jumping into leaf piles was a lot of fun. In fact, it was so much fun that Lester kept jumping, and jumping, and jumping, until Mother, who’d jumped in a couple of times herself, stopped and said, “Say, Lester, when I was a little girl—”
“I know, I know—don’t tell me, Mother. When you were a little girl, the instant your mother told you to stop jumping into the leaf pile, you picked up your rake and started raking all over again. And you never stopped. Not even for a second. Not even when a hurricane blew through and you had to chase your leaves all over town. Nope, you didn’t stop until you were absolutely sure that every single one of those leaves was in your pile.”
Lester’s mother smiled. “A hurricane! Goodness, Lester, I didn’t grow up on the coast! No, what I was going to tell you was that when I was a little girl, I used to love making leaf houses.”
“What?” Lester scratched his head. “Didn’t that mess the leaf piles up?”
Lester’s mother laughed. “Well, I suppose it did,” she said. “But it was sure a lot of fun!”
“Fun?” Where in the world was the mother who scolded him for playing with his food, the one who nearly hit the ceiling the last time he tried out one of his original cake recipes? Why, she hadn’t even let him put his mustard-marshmallow delight into the oven! She must be teasing him!
“Yes, fun. Watch.”
Then, as Lester looked on in amazement, Mother began to rearrange her leaf pile. Before he knew it, the leaf pile had completely vanished, and his mother was standing in the center of four leaf-walls. Oh, the walls were no more than a foot high and a foot wide, but Mother seemed satisfied. “Well, Lester,” she asked, “what do you think of the house?”
“Hmmmm,” Lester said. “I’ve never seen a leaf house before, so I suppose it’s OK. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Why, how thoughtless of me!” Mother quickly raked an opening in the wall closest to Lester. “I thought someone was at the front door,” she declared, smiling. “Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you.” Lester entered the leaf house.
“Could I offer you something to drink?”
“Oh, yes,” Lester said. “I’d love a chocolate milk shake. But where are you going to make it? I don’t see a kitchen.”
“A kitchen!” Mother said. “Why, Lester, you’re absolutely right. I don’t have a kitchen. Would you like to help me make one?”
Lester raced out the front door of the leaf house and grabbed his rake. Then he and Mother began to add on to the leaf house. They raked a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a front porch, and a back door.
The leaf house sprawled across the entire backyard. Lester had never raked so hard or so long in his life. “This is really some kind of place!” he said as he drank his imaginary milk shake. “Don’t you think so, Mother?”
“Lester, Lester,” replied his mother, who was leaning on her rake, “did I ever tell you that when I was a little girl—”
“I know, I know—don’t tell me, Mother. When you were a little girl, right after you finished building your leaf house, you started tearing it down. You had to, because in your heart you knew that those leaves didn’t belong all over your yard. They belonged in a nice, neat pile. So once again you began to rake. And you raked, and you raked, and you raked. You never stopped. Not even when it was after midnight and the worst blizzard of all time howled into your town, and two hundred polar bears wandered into your backyard and started fooling around with your leaves and you had to tell them to cut it out, because there was no way you were going to let perfect strangers mess things up, and the polar bears started blubbering, but you didn’t give a hoot, you just told them to scram and kept right on raking until every single leaf was in your pile.”
Lester was out of breath.
Mother smiled. “Two hundred polar bears! Goodness, Lester, I didn’t grow up that close to the North Pole! No, what I was going to tell you was that when I was a little girl and it started to get dark and I started to get hungry, I’d rake shut the front door of my leaf house and head for the backdoor of my brick house.”
“You’d just leave your leaf house?” Lester said, his eyes as big as full moons.
“Yes—I always liked to play in my leaf house the next day.”
“Wow!”
“Well, of course,” Mother said, “there was that one year when the strongest winds ever to blow across the face of the earth carried off one of my leaf houses while I was sound asleep. I couldn’t find a trace of it the next morning, even though I looked everywhere. But,” she chuckled, “other than that time, I always enjoyed playing in my leaf house the following day.”
Lester grinned. “You know, Mother, I think that I might have liked playing with you when you were little.”
“Why, thank you, Lester.”
Lester and Mother shut the front door of their leaf house, put their rakes away, and walked in the back door of their other house, where their dinner just happened to be in the oven.
“Lester,” Mother said as she continued to add leaves to her large leaf pile, “when I was a little girl—”
“I know, I know—don’t tell me, Mother.” Lester loved to tease his mother. “When you were a little girl, you didn’t have three maple trees in your backyard—you had three thousand, so there were zillions of leaves all over the place. But you never stopped raking. Not even for a minute. Not even if it started to rain. Nope, you didn’t stop until every single leaf was in your pile.”
Lester’s mother smiled. “Three thousand maple trees! Goodness, Lester, I didn’t grow up in the woods! No, what I was going to tell you was that when I was a little girl, I used to love jumping into leaf piles.”
“What? Didn’t that mess the leaf piles up?”
“Well, I suppose it did,” Mother said. “But it was sure a lot of fun!”
“Fun?” Was this the same mother who ordered him to stay away from mud puddles and who wouldn’t let him bring worms into the house? Was she teasing him?
“Yes, fun. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“All right.” Lester shrugged, trotted over to his mother’s leaf pile, and took a half-hearted leap.
Scrunch! Crackle! Crunch! The leaf pile had become a king-size, autumn-scented pillow!
Lester giggled. His mother was right. Jumping into leaf piles was a lot of fun. In fact, it was so much fun that Lester kept jumping, and jumping, and jumping, until Mother, who’d jumped in a couple of times herself, stopped and said, “Say, Lester, when I was a little girl—”
“I know, I know—don’t tell me, Mother. When you were a little girl, the instant your mother told you to stop jumping into the leaf pile, you picked up your rake and started raking all over again. And you never stopped. Not even for a second. Not even when a hurricane blew through and you had to chase your leaves all over town. Nope, you didn’t stop until you were absolutely sure that every single one of those leaves was in your pile.”
Lester’s mother smiled. “A hurricane! Goodness, Lester, I didn’t grow up on the coast! No, what I was going to tell you was that when I was a little girl, I used to love making leaf houses.”
“What?” Lester scratched his head. “Didn’t that mess the leaf piles up?”
Lester’s mother laughed. “Well, I suppose it did,” she said. “But it was sure a lot of fun!”
“Fun?” Where in the world was the mother who scolded him for playing with his food, the one who nearly hit the ceiling the last time he tried out one of his original cake recipes? Why, she hadn’t even let him put his mustard-marshmallow delight into the oven! She must be teasing him!
“Yes, fun. Watch.”
Then, as Lester looked on in amazement, Mother began to rearrange her leaf pile. Before he knew it, the leaf pile had completely vanished, and his mother was standing in the center of four leaf-walls. Oh, the walls were no more than a foot high and a foot wide, but Mother seemed satisfied. “Well, Lester,” she asked, “what do you think of the house?”
“Hmmmm,” Lester said. “I’ve never seen a leaf house before, so I suppose it’s OK. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Why, how thoughtless of me!” Mother quickly raked an opening in the wall closest to Lester. “I thought someone was at the front door,” she declared, smiling. “Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you.” Lester entered the leaf house.
“Could I offer you something to drink?”
“Oh, yes,” Lester said. “I’d love a chocolate milk shake. But where are you going to make it? I don’t see a kitchen.”
“A kitchen!” Mother said. “Why, Lester, you’re absolutely right. I don’t have a kitchen. Would you like to help me make one?”
Lester raced out the front door of the leaf house and grabbed his rake. Then he and Mother began to add on to the leaf house. They raked a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a front porch, and a back door.
The leaf house sprawled across the entire backyard. Lester had never raked so hard or so long in his life. “This is really some kind of place!” he said as he drank his imaginary milk shake. “Don’t you think so, Mother?”
“Lester, Lester,” replied his mother, who was leaning on her rake, “did I ever tell you that when I was a little girl—”
“I know, I know—don’t tell me, Mother. When you were a little girl, right after you finished building your leaf house, you started tearing it down. You had to, because in your heart you knew that those leaves didn’t belong all over your yard. They belonged in a nice, neat pile. So once again you began to rake. And you raked, and you raked, and you raked. You never stopped. Not even when it was after midnight and the worst blizzard of all time howled into your town, and two hundred polar bears wandered into your backyard and started fooling around with your leaves and you had to tell them to cut it out, because there was no way you were going to let perfect strangers mess things up, and the polar bears started blubbering, but you didn’t give a hoot, you just told them to scram and kept right on raking until every single leaf was in your pile.”
Lester was out of breath.
Mother smiled. “Two hundred polar bears! Goodness, Lester, I didn’t grow up that close to the North Pole! No, what I was going to tell you was that when I was a little girl and it started to get dark and I started to get hungry, I’d rake shut the front door of my leaf house and head for the backdoor of my brick house.”
“You’d just leave your leaf house?” Lester said, his eyes as big as full moons.
“Yes—I always liked to play in my leaf house the next day.”
“Wow!”
“Well, of course,” Mother said, “there was that one year when the strongest winds ever to blow across the face of the earth carried off one of my leaf houses while I was sound asleep. I couldn’t find a trace of it the next morning, even though I looked everywhere. But,” she chuckled, “other than that time, I always enjoyed playing in my leaf house the following day.”
Lester grinned. “You know, Mother, I think that I might have liked playing with you when you were little.”
“Why, thank you, Lester.”
Lester and Mother shut the front door of their leaf house, put their rakes away, and walked in the back door of their other house, where their dinner just happened to be in the oven.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Happiness
Love
Parenting
Sakiusa and Salote Maiwiriwiri
Summary: After losing two children, Salote felt prompted in the temple to speak with a senior sister missionary who had experienced similar loss. The missionary counseled her to make their home a holy place to feel their children’s presence. The family set that as their goal, welcomed their children by name in devotionals, resolved disagreements quickly, counseled together, attended the temple, chose gratitude, and began daily Book of Mormon study. As they did these things, they felt hope, healing, love, and the presence of their children.
Salote:
Two years after our son Esa died of lung cancer, our daughter Esalynn died of meningitis. In the temple, I felt a strong prompting to speak with a senior sister missionary there who also lost two children years earlier. She told me, “If you make your home a holy place, you can feel your children’s presence there.”
That has become our goal. Everything we do is to make our home a holy place. We want to feel them close.
We don’t know how to parent children beyond the veil. But if we do our best to live righteously, we believe they will feel our efforts. In our family devotionals, we welcome Esa and Esalynn by name.
In our home, even when we have a disagreement, we try to resolve it quickly. We want our home to stay a holy place as much as possible. As we’ve done so, we have all felt hope and healing and love.
Sakiusa:
The experience of losing Esa and Esalynn has ultimately brought our family closer together. We counsel together with our other children. We attend the temple as a family. We live our lives as simple as possible and choose gratitude every day. As we talk about what it means to be sealed as a family in the temple, that sealing becomes alive in us. And through all of this, we do feel the presence of our children.
One of the first things we did to make our home holier was to start reading the Book of Mormon daily. At first, we shared Book of Mormon stories with pictures for our younger children. Then we added videos. Now we’re reading more from the Book of Mormon. I can testify of the power of the Book of Mormon.
Two years after our son Esa died of lung cancer, our daughter Esalynn died of meningitis. In the temple, I felt a strong prompting to speak with a senior sister missionary there who also lost two children years earlier. She told me, “If you make your home a holy place, you can feel your children’s presence there.”
That has become our goal. Everything we do is to make our home a holy place. We want to feel them close.
We don’t know how to parent children beyond the veil. But if we do our best to live righteously, we believe they will feel our efforts. In our family devotionals, we welcome Esa and Esalynn by name.
In our home, even when we have a disagreement, we try to resolve it quickly. We want our home to stay a holy place as much as possible. As we’ve done so, we have all felt hope and healing and love.
Sakiusa:
The experience of losing Esa and Esalynn has ultimately brought our family closer together. We counsel together with our other children. We attend the temple as a family. We live our lives as simple as possible and choose gratitude every day. As we talk about what it means to be sealed as a family in the temple, that sealing becomes alive in us. And through all of this, we do feel the presence of our children.
One of the first things we did to make our home holier was to start reading the Book of Mormon daily. At first, we shared Book of Mormon stories with pictures for our younger children. Then we added videos. Now we’re reading more from the Book of Mormon. I can testify of the power of the Book of Mormon.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Parents
👤 Children
Book of Mormon
Death
Family
Grief
Holy Ghost
Hope
Sealing
Temples
Testimony
Answers to Prayer
Summary: An oldest son worked toward a coveted job through a part-time position and became the leading candidate when it opened. Despite qualifications and prayerful hope, he was not hired, which devastated him and puzzled his family. Years later, it became clear that missing that job allowed a life-changing opportunity that brought greater eternal blessings.
While in college, our oldest son was hired into a very desirable part-time student job that had the potential to lead to a wonderful, permanent job after graduation. He worked hard at this student job for four years, became highly qualified, and was well respected by his coworkers and supervisors. At the end of his senior year, almost as if orchestrated by heaven (at least to our son’s way of thinking), the permanent position did open up, and he was the leading candidate, with every indication and expectation that, indeed, he would get the job.
Well, he was not hired. None of us could understand it. He had prepared well, had interviewed well, was the most qualified candidate, and had prayed with great hope and expectation! He was devastated and crushed, and the entire episode left all of us scratching our heads. Why had God abandoned him in his righteous desire?
It wasn’t until several years later that the answer became very clear. Had he received the dream job after graduation, he would have missed a critical, life-changing opportunity that has now proved to be for his eternal benefit and blessing. God knew the end from the beginning (as He always does), and in this case the answer to many righteous prayers was no, in favor of a far superior outcome.
Well, he was not hired. None of us could understand it. He had prepared well, had interviewed well, was the most qualified candidate, and had prayed with great hope and expectation! He was devastated and crushed, and the entire episode left all of us scratching our heads. Why had God abandoned him in his righteous desire?
It wasn’t until several years later that the answer became very clear. Had he received the dream job after graduation, he would have missed a critical, life-changing opportunity that has now proved to be for his eternal benefit and blessing. God knew the end from the beginning (as He always does), and in this case the answer to many righteous prayers was no, in favor of a far superior outcome.
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👤 Young Adults
👤 Parents
Adversity
Employment
Faith
Hope
Patience
Prayer
Argentina’s Bright and Joyous Day
Summary: After his parents joined the Church, Alfredo and his brother rose early and ran to and from buses to attend seminary without hindering schoolwork, which cemented his testimony. He served a mission, chose marriage before finishing school, later completed degrees, and served as a bishop.
The Salas Family: Second-Generation Leaders. Alfredo Salas, president of the Buenos Aires West stake, is an example of what is happening today in Argentina as a result of parents who have sacrificed old ways to adopt the vision of their new faith. “My parents joined the Church when I was 11,” says President Salas. “I grew up attending a little branch in Bahía Blanca.” When the seminary program was introduced, he wanted to attend, but his parents, already sacrificing to send him to school, were concerned it would interfere with his studies. To alleviate their concerns, he and his brother studied extra hard. To go to seminary, they would get up at 5:00 A.M. and run several blocks to catch a bus. After the bus ride, they ran eight blocks to the chapel. Then, to arrive at school on time, they ran the eight blocks back to the bus, which carried them back to their neighborhood, and then ran all the way to school. “This sacrifice cemented my testimony,” he reflects.
With the backing of his parents, a mission followed, which greatly deepened his testimony. When he returned, he faced a new dilemma because of his limited finances: whether to finish his schooling or get married. The choice was not easy. Nevertheless, he chose to marry, and it took seven more years before he finally received his degree in computer science. At age 26 he was called as a bishop and served in that calling during the final two years of his schooling. He subsequently went on to earn a master’s degree in business administration. As a result of his parents’ emphasis on learning, today President Salas is doing well as country manager of a computer programming company, and he is able to devote time to Church service.
With the backing of his parents, a mission followed, which greatly deepened his testimony. When he returned, he faced a new dilemma because of his limited finances: whether to finish his schooling or get married. The choice was not easy. Nevertheless, he chose to marry, and it took seven more years before he finally received his degree in computer science. At age 26 he was called as a bishop and served in that calling during the final two years of his schooling. He subsequently went on to earn a master’s degree in business administration. As a result of his parents’ emphasis on learning, today President Salas is doing well as country manager of a computer programming company, and he is able to devote time to Church service.
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Bishop
Conversion
Education
Employment
Family
Missionary Work
Parenting
Sacrifice
Testimony
The Covenant of Baptism: To Be in the Kingdom and of the Kingdom
Summary: The speaker endured two years of intense pain and three major surgeries that kept him from speaking in general conference. He prayed for understanding, found answers in scripture, and felt depression dispelled by the Spirit. Though he pled for relief, he learned to submit to the Lord’s timing and was supported by doctors, nurses, his wife Mary, and at times heavenly visitations. These experiences strengthened him and emboldened his testimony.
After recovering from three major surgeries which have prevented me from speaking in the past two general conferences, what a joy it is to be able to stand in this beautiful Conference Center today to teach and bear testimony to those who desire to hear the word of the Lord.
In the past two years, I have waited upon the Lord for mortal lessons to be taught me through periods of physical pain, mental anguish, and pondering. I learned that constant, intense pain is a great consecrating purifier that humbles us and draws us closer to God’s Spirit. If we listen and obey, we will be guided by His Spirit and do His will in our daily endeavors.
There were times when I have asked a few direct questions in my prayers, such as, “What lessons dost Thou want me to learn from these experiences?”
As I studied the scriptures during this critical period of my life, the veil was thin and answers were given to me as they were recorded in lives of others who had gone through even more severe trials.
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (D&C 121:7–8).
Dark moments of depression were quickly dispelled by the light of the gospel as the Spirit brought peace and comfort with assurances that all would be well.
On a few occasions I told the Lord that I had surely learned the lessons to be taught and that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to endure any more suffering. Such entreaties seemed to be of no avail, for it was made clear to me that this purifying process of testing was to be endured in the Lord’s time and in the Lord’s own way. It is one thing to teach, “Thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). It is another to live it. I also learned that I would not be left alone to meet these trials and tribulations but that guardian angels would attend me. There were some that were near angels in the form of doctors, nurses, and most of all my sweet companion, Mary. And on occasion, when the Lord so desired, I was to be comforted with visitations of heavenly hosts that brought comfort and eternal reassurances in my time of need.
The experiences of the last two years have made me stronger in spirit and have given me courage to testify more boldly to the world the deep feelings of my heart. I stand before you today with a resolve to teach the gospel principles like the prophets of old—without the fear of man, speaking clearly with plain talk, and teaching simple gospel truths.
In the past two years, I have waited upon the Lord for mortal lessons to be taught me through periods of physical pain, mental anguish, and pondering. I learned that constant, intense pain is a great consecrating purifier that humbles us and draws us closer to God’s Spirit. If we listen and obey, we will be guided by His Spirit and do His will in our daily endeavors.
There were times when I have asked a few direct questions in my prayers, such as, “What lessons dost Thou want me to learn from these experiences?”
As I studied the scriptures during this critical period of my life, the veil was thin and answers were given to me as they were recorded in lives of others who had gone through even more severe trials.
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (D&C 121:7–8).
Dark moments of depression were quickly dispelled by the light of the gospel as the Spirit brought peace and comfort with assurances that all would be well.
On a few occasions I told the Lord that I had surely learned the lessons to be taught and that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to endure any more suffering. Such entreaties seemed to be of no avail, for it was made clear to me that this purifying process of testing was to be endured in the Lord’s time and in the Lord’s own way. It is one thing to teach, “Thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). It is another to live it. I also learned that I would not be left alone to meet these trials and tribulations but that guardian angels would attend me. There were some that were near angels in the form of doctors, nurses, and most of all my sweet companion, Mary. And on occasion, when the Lord so desired, I was to be comforted with visitations of heavenly hosts that brought comfort and eternal reassurances in my time of need.
The experiences of the last two years have made me stronger in spirit and have given me courage to testify more boldly to the world the deep feelings of my heart. I stand before you today with a resolve to teach the gospel principles like the prophets of old—without the fear of man, speaking clearly with plain talk, and teaching simple gospel truths.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Angels
👤 Other
Adversity
Courage
Endure to the End
Faith
Health
Holy Ghost
Humility
Mental Health
Miracles
Obedience
Patience
Peace
Prayer
Revelation
Scriptures
Testimony
FYI:For Your Information
Summary: At school in Australia, Matthew was teased to try to make him swear and even offered money to smoke. He refused both attempts. He aims to set a strong example for his many younger relatives.
Matthew Rancie of Eaglehawk, Victoria, Australia, has a rich LDS heritage, and he is setting an example for his eight younger brothers.
At school, Matthew has been taunted and teased to try to get him to swear, but he refuses to do so. His classmates also tried to bribe him with money to try a cigarette saying, “I suppose you won’t even do it now.” They were right.
Matthew’s father, uncles, and grandfathers have served as bishops, in high councils, in stake presidencies, and in mission presidencies. He has 32 cousins, all active in the Church. As the oldest, he plans to set an example by being the first to serve a mission. In his ward, he serves as pianist for the priesthood.
At school, Matthew has been taunted and teased to try to get him to swear, but he refuses to do so. His classmates also tried to bribe him with money to try a cigarette saying, “I suppose you won’t even do it now.” They were right.
Matthew’s father, uncles, and grandfathers have served as bishops, in high councils, in stake presidencies, and in mission presidencies. He has 32 cousins, all active in the Church. As the oldest, he plans to set an example by being the first to serve a mission. In his ward, he serves as pianist for the priesthood.
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👤 Youth
Adversity
Courage
Family
Missionary Work
Music
Obedience
Priesthood
Temptation
Word of Wisdom
Young Men
The Rise of the Church of Christ
Summary: Thomas Marsh, seeking true religion, felt prompted to travel from Boston to western New York but initially found no answers. On his return, he heard of Joseph Smith’s 'golden book,' went to Palmyra, and received early pages from Martin Harris. He brought them home, and his wife Elizabeth also believed they were from God.
That same spirit drew others to the Book of Mormon as it was being printed. Thomas Marsh, a former printer’s apprentice, had tried to find his place in other churches, but none of them seemed to preach the gospel he found in the Bible. He believed that a new church would soon arise that would teach restored truth.
That summer, Thomas felt led by the Spirit to travel hundreds of miles from his home in Boston to western New York. He stayed in the area three months before turning toward home, uncertain why he had traveled so far. At a stop along the way back, however, his host asked if he had heard about Joseph Smith’s “golden book.” Thomas told the woman he had not and felt compelled to learn more.
She told him he should talk to Martin Harris and directed him to Palmyra. Thomas went there immediately and found Martin at Grandin’s printshop. The printer gave him 16 pages of the Book of Mormon, and Thomas took them back to Boston, eager to share the first taste of this new faith with his wife, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth read the pages, and she too believed they were the work of God.10
That summer, Thomas felt led by the Spirit to travel hundreds of miles from his home in Boston to western New York. He stayed in the area three months before turning toward home, uncertain why he had traveled so far. At a stop along the way back, however, his host asked if he had heard about Joseph Smith’s “golden book.” Thomas told the woman he had not and felt compelled to learn more.
She told him he should talk to Martin Harris and directed him to Palmyra. Thomas went there immediately and found Martin at Grandin’s printshop. The printer gave him 16 pages of the Book of Mormon, and Thomas took them back to Boston, eager to share the first taste of this new faith with his wife, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth read the pages, and she too believed they were the work of God.10
Read more →
👤 Early Saints
👤 Other
Book of Mormon
Conversion
Faith
Holy Ghost
Joseph Smith
Testimony
The Restoration
My Grandfather’s Three Sons
Summary: A 12-year-old boy is ordained a deacon by his father, who then asks him to read his grandfather’s journal. In the journal, the grandfather recounts the faith and sacrifices of his family, including the departure of his three sons to America and the death of his youngest son, Ivor.
After reading that his grandfather later died and was buried beside his wife and third son, the boy realizes that his own father was the second son mentioned in the journal. The story ends with the father confirming it, completing the family connection and the emotional lesson about sacrifice, faith, and heritage.
I had just passed my 12th birthday and had my interview with my bishop for ordination as a deacon. My father, who had served as a bishop a few years previously, ordained me. During his prayer he blessed me that I might appreciate those who had made it possible for me to enjoy the blessing of the Church and especially the priesthood.
Being only 12 years old I didn’t quite understand what he meant. The next Sunday I assisted in passing the sacrament. Mother had fussed over me to see that I was properly dressed for this occasion, while Dad just looked on and smiled.
I must confess it was an interesting and exciting event. Being a deacon meant I was growing up, and this was a comforting thought.
After lunch that day my father came toward me with a family book in his hand. He explained it was the journal, or the life story, of my grandfather who lived in Wales.
“I want you to read this,” he said, “especially these last pages.” With that he placed it on the table in front of me and left to join mother in the living room.
Now why should a 12-year-old boy want to read ancient stuff like that when there was a football game on T.V.? There was only one good reason, and that was my father wanted me to read it. He had put a marker in the page where he wanted me to start.
This is what I read:
It is November and cold outside. I can hear the wind whistling through the beech trees down in the woods. I am sitting in front of my fireplace in my old leather-back chair with Mom’s old knitted shawl over my lap. There is a little table by my side, and I am writing on a lined tablet. The lines are wide because my eyesight is not as good as it once was. The dancing flames from the fire seem to stimulate my thoughts, and I relive the years when my beloved wife and I first joined the Church. The wind was blowing off the ocean when we waded into the water off the coast of Wales. Bess’s health was poor, she being with child, andshe was concerned about the effects of the cold water on her and the unborn baby. The presiding elder blessed her that all would be well, that there would be no bad effects from the cold water. It turned out that way. There are other places in my history where I have told of the persecutions we endured, but now I must tell you about my three sons.
William was the firstborn, and from the beginning there was a strong bond of love between him and his mother. Then when he was a young man she died suddenly and he was brokenhearted. No longer was he the carefree young man we knew but became quiet and withdrawn. Then one day he came to me and said, “Father, I have decided to leave home and go to America. I want to go to Zion where the Saints are. I have applied for a visa, and when it comes I shall be leaving.” About a year later the visa was granted, and William made preparations to leave.
Then came the day of his leaving. How can I describe that day? I stood on the doorstep of my cottage on the hillside and watched him go down the hill with his trunk slung over his shoulder. I knew I would never see him again, and part of me went with him. Would I miss him? Would I miss the sun if it failed to rise over Rhysog Mountain? He was my firstborn son, whose life was a lesson in faith and humility. He was the peacemaker in the family. The days passed, and the ache in my heart was eased. His letters came with regularity, and they told of his joy of being with the Saints.
One day a year or so later my second son, John, spoke to me at supper, “Father, I have decided to join my brother in America. I have applied for a visa.”
I looked at this boy, hardly into manhood. How different he was from his brother. Handsome he was with dark hair with a bit of wave in it. He had a smile that was captivating, and he was very popular with the girls. Somehow he reminded me of when I was a young man. I too had dark hair with a bit of wave in it, and I was popular with the girls. But Bess came along and stole my heart.
I went to the railroad station and wished him good-bye. My tears fell on his shoulder as the train pulled into the station. As it left I felt as if part of my life went on that train.
The walk back home was the loneliest walk of my life. I had to try hard to keep bitterness out of my heart. That which I loved the most, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, had taken away two of my sons.
Ivor, my third son, was still living in the village. He was destined not to be with me long. He had been born two months early and was so tiny that his mother carried him on a pillow. He grew to manhood but suffered from a heart disease. He was the poet in the family, and even though his health was poor he was always happy. I can hear him yet as he sang to the trees in the woods that bordered our home. I remember that day only a few days before his heart failed him that we walked together up into the meadow and we looked across the valley. He took my hand in his and spoke softly. “Listen Tad” (that’s Welsh for Father), and across the valley came the plaintive call of the cuckoo. “Isn’t it lovely? The cuckoo tells of the coming spring, and soon the meadow will be white with daisies, and the thrush will sing a joyful tune. Aye, my Tad, it’s a grand world that God has given us.”
He died in his sleep and was buried beside his mother in the little cemetery on the hill.
The funeral was quite an event in our village. It was the first LDS funeral ever conducted there. Many people came out of curiosity, but most came because Ivor was loved and respected. Jones, the undertaker, in his black suit and top hat drove the hearse with a pair of black horses.
It was less than a mile to the cemetery, and the mourners walked behind the hearse. Soon the villagers started to sing. At first their voices were quiet like the summer breeze on Rhysog Mountain. Then as the words came, “Feed me till I want no more,” their voices raised in a great crescendo like waves breaking on a rocky shore. Oh, my people from whom I came, your songs of mourning are still in my heart, and I know that my son and my Bess heard.
When I returned home after the funeral, I took my sons’ letters out of a drawer and read them again. My oldest son wrote, “I am now the high priest group leader, and also a supervisor at the temple. I am so grateful that you taught me the gospel.”
The letter from son number two read, “I am excited today, for I have been ordained the bishop of my ward. How can I thank you enough for teaching me the gospel?”
The fire is burning low, and my hand is so tired I can’t write more at this time.
The next words were in my father’s handwriting:
Your grandfather passed away a few days later, and he was buried beside his wife and third son.
As I finished reading I looked up to see my dad standing there. His eyes were moist and so were mine, but a 12-year-old cannot stay sad very long. “Dad,” I asked, “were you the second son?”
“Yes, my boy, I was the second son.”
“Your hair is not dark anymore, but there is still a bit of wave.”
Being only 12 years old I didn’t quite understand what he meant. The next Sunday I assisted in passing the sacrament. Mother had fussed over me to see that I was properly dressed for this occasion, while Dad just looked on and smiled.
I must confess it was an interesting and exciting event. Being a deacon meant I was growing up, and this was a comforting thought.
After lunch that day my father came toward me with a family book in his hand. He explained it was the journal, or the life story, of my grandfather who lived in Wales.
“I want you to read this,” he said, “especially these last pages.” With that he placed it on the table in front of me and left to join mother in the living room.
Now why should a 12-year-old boy want to read ancient stuff like that when there was a football game on T.V.? There was only one good reason, and that was my father wanted me to read it. He had put a marker in the page where he wanted me to start.
This is what I read:
It is November and cold outside. I can hear the wind whistling through the beech trees down in the woods. I am sitting in front of my fireplace in my old leather-back chair with Mom’s old knitted shawl over my lap. There is a little table by my side, and I am writing on a lined tablet. The lines are wide because my eyesight is not as good as it once was. The dancing flames from the fire seem to stimulate my thoughts, and I relive the years when my beloved wife and I first joined the Church. The wind was blowing off the ocean when we waded into the water off the coast of Wales. Bess’s health was poor, she being with child, andshe was concerned about the effects of the cold water on her and the unborn baby. The presiding elder blessed her that all would be well, that there would be no bad effects from the cold water. It turned out that way. There are other places in my history where I have told of the persecutions we endured, but now I must tell you about my three sons.
William was the firstborn, and from the beginning there was a strong bond of love between him and his mother. Then when he was a young man she died suddenly and he was brokenhearted. No longer was he the carefree young man we knew but became quiet and withdrawn. Then one day he came to me and said, “Father, I have decided to leave home and go to America. I want to go to Zion where the Saints are. I have applied for a visa, and when it comes I shall be leaving.” About a year later the visa was granted, and William made preparations to leave.
Then came the day of his leaving. How can I describe that day? I stood on the doorstep of my cottage on the hillside and watched him go down the hill with his trunk slung over his shoulder. I knew I would never see him again, and part of me went with him. Would I miss him? Would I miss the sun if it failed to rise over Rhysog Mountain? He was my firstborn son, whose life was a lesson in faith and humility. He was the peacemaker in the family. The days passed, and the ache in my heart was eased. His letters came with regularity, and they told of his joy of being with the Saints.
One day a year or so later my second son, John, spoke to me at supper, “Father, I have decided to join my brother in America. I have applied for a visa.”
I looked at this boy, hardly into manhood. How different he was from his brother. Handsome he was with dark hair with a bit of wave in it. He had a smile that was captivating, and he was very popular with the girls. Somehow he reminded me of when I was a young man. I too had dark hair with a bit of wave in it, and I was popular with the girls. But Bess came along and stole my heart.
I went to the railroad station and wished him good-bye. My tears fell on his shoulder as the train pulled into the station. As it left I felt as if part of my life went on that train.
The walk back home was the loneliest walk of my life. I had to try hard to keep bitterness out of my heart. That which I loved the most, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, had taken away two of my sons.
Ivor, my third son, was still living in the village. He was destined not to be with me long. He had been born two months early and was so tiny that his mother carried him on a pillow. He grew to manhood but suffered from a heart disease. He was the poet in the family, and even though his health was poor he was always happy. I can hear him yet as he sang to the trees in the woods that bordered our home. I remember that day only a few days before his heart failed him that we walked together up into the meadow and we looked across the valley. He took my hand in his and spoke softly. “Listen Tad” (that’s Welsh for Father), and across the valley came the plaintive call of the cuckoo. “Isn’t it lovely? The cuckoo tells of the coming spring, and soon the meadow will be white with daisies, and the thrush will sing a joyful tune. Aye, my Tad, it’s a grand world that God has given us.”
He died in his sleep and was buried beside his mother in the little cemetery on the hill.
The funeral was quite an event in our village. It was the first LDS funeral ever conducted there. Many people came out of curiosity, but most came because Ivor was loved and respected. Jones, the undertaker, in his black suit and top hat drove the hearse with a pair of black horses.
It was less than a mile to the cemetery, and the mourners walked behind the hearse. Soon the villagers started to sing. At first their voices were quiet like the summer breeze on Rhysog Mountain. Then as the words came, “Feed me till I want no more,” their voices raised in a great crescendo like waves breaking on a rocky shore. Oh, my people from whom I came, your songs of mourning are still in my heart, and I know that my son and my Bess heard.
When I returned home after the funeral, I took my sons’ letters out of a drawer and read them again. My oldest son wrote, “I am now the high priest group leader, and also a supervisor at the temple. I am so grateful that you taught me the gospel.”
The letter from son number two read, “I am excited today, for I have been ordained the bishop of my ward. How can I thank you enough for teaching me the gospel?”
The fire is burning low, and my hand is so tired I can’t write more at this time.
The next words were in my father’s handwriting:
Your grandfather passed away a few days later, and he was buried beside his wife and third son.
As I finished reading I looked up to see my dad standing there. His eyes were moist and so were mine, but a 12-year-old cannot stay sad very long. “Dad,” I asked, “were you the second son?”
“Yes, my boy, I was the second son.”
“Your hair is not dark anymore, but there is still a bit of wave.”
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Bishop
Death
Family
Family History
Grief
Parenting
Prayer
Priesthood
Sacrament
Young Men
Come unto Christ—Living as Latter-day Saints
Summary: The speaker reflects on holding an original manuscript page of the Book of Mormon and the faith of Nephi, emphasizing that God prepares a way for His commandments to be fulfilled. He connects Nephi’s trust in the Lord with a personal experience of his son’s serious injury, showing that Christ provides peace and support through trials.
The message then broadens to the invitation to come unto Christ through His Church, especially within families and covenant living. The conclusion teaches that by staying on the covenant path and embracing Christ’s Church, disciples can help themselves and others do difficult things and receive His love, joy, and peace.
Recently, I had the unique opportunity to hold a page of the original manuscript of the Book of Mormon. On this particular page, for the first time in this dispensation, these bold words of Nephi were recorded: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
As I held this page, I was filled with a profound appreciation for the efforts of the 23-year-old Joseph Smith, who translated the Book of Mormon by the “gift and power of God.” I also felt appreciation for the words of a young Nephi, who had been asked to perform a very difficult task in obtaining the plates of brass from Laban.
Nephi knew that if he continued to stay focused on the Lord, he would be successful in fulfilling what the Lord commanded him. He remained focused on the Savior throughout his life even though he suffered temptations, physical trials, and even the betrayal of some in his immediate family.
Nephi knew in whom He could trust. Shortly after exclaiming, “O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh,” Nephi stated, “My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.”
As followers of Christ, we are not spared challenges and trials in our lives. We are often required to do difficult things that, if attempted alone, would be overwhelming and maybe impossible. As we accept the Savior’s invitation to “come unto me,” He will provide the support, comfort, and peace that are necessary, just as He did for Nephi and Joseph. Even in our deepest trials, we can feel the warm embrace of His love as we trust Him and accept His will. We can experience the joy reserved for His faithful disciples, for “Christ is joy.”
In 2014, while serving a full-time mission, our family experienced an unexpected turn of events. When riding down a steep hill on a longboard, our youngest son fell and sustained a life-threatening injury to his brain. As his situation deteriorated, medical personnel rushed him into emergency surgery.
Our family knelt on the floor of an otherwise empty hospital room, and we poured our hearts out to God. In the midst of this confusing and painful moment, we were filled with our Heavenly Father’s love and peace.
We did not know what the future held or if we would see our son alive again. We did know very clearly that his life was in God’s hands and the results, from an eternal perspective, would work out for his and our good. Through the gift of the Spirit, we were fully prepared to accept any outcome.
It was not easy! The accident resulted in a two-month hospital stay while we were presiding over 400 full-time missionaries. Our son experienced a significant loss of memory. His recovery included long and difficult physical, speech, and occupational therapy sessions. Challenges remain, but over time we have witnessed a miracle.
We understand clearly that not every trial we face will have a result we wish for. However, as we remain focused on Christ, we will feel peace and see God’s miracles, whatever they may be, in His time and in His way.
There will be times when we will not be able to see any way that a current situation will end well and might even express, as Nephi, “My heart sorroweth because of my flesh.” There may be times that the only hope we have is in Jesus Christ. What a blessing to have that hope and trust in Him. Christ is the one who will always keep His promises. His rest is assured for all who come unto Him.
Our leaders deeply desire all to feel the peace and comfort that come through trusting in and focusing on the Savior Jesus Christ.
Our living prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, has been communicating the Lord’s vision for the world and for members of Christ’s Church: “Our message to the world is simple and sincere: we invite all of God’s children on both sides of the veil to come unto their Savior, receive the blessings of the holy temple, have enduring joy, and qualify for eternal life.”
This invitation to “come unto Christ” has specific implications for Latter-day Saints. As members of the Savior’s Church, we have made covenants with Him and have become His spiritually begotten sons and daughters. We have also been given the opportunity to labor with the Lord in inviting others to come unto Him.
As we labor with Christ, our most deeply focused efforts should be within our own homes. There will be times when family members and close friends will face challenges. The voices of the world, and maybe their own desires, might cause them to question truth. We should do everything we can to help them feel both the Savior’s love and our love. I am reminded of the scripture verse that has become our beloved hymn “Love One Another,” which teaches us, “By this shall … men know … ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”
In our love for those who are questioning truth, the enemy of all joy might try to make us feel that we betray those we love if we ourselves continue to live the fulness of the gospel and teach its truths.
Our ability to help others come unto Christ or return to Christ will largely be determined by the example we set through our own personal commitment to stay on the covenant path.
If our true desire is to rescue those we love, we ourselves must stay firmly with Christ by embracing His Church and the fulness of His gospel.
In returning to Nephi’s story, we know that Nephi’s inclination to trust in the Lord was influenced by his parents’ propensity to trust in the Lord and by their covenant-keeping example. This is beautifully exemplified in Lehi’s vision of the tree of life. After partaking of the sweet and joyful fruit of the tree, Lehi “cast [his] eyes round about, that perhaps [he] might discover [his] family.” He saw Sariah, Sam, and Nephi standing “as if they knew not whither they should go.” Lehi then stated, “I beckoned unto them; and I also did say unto them with a loud voice that they should come unto me, and partake of the fruit.” Please note that Lehi did not leave the tree of life. He stayed spiritually with the Lord and invited his family to come where he was to partake of the fruit.
The adversary would entice some to leave the joy of the gospel by separating Christ’s teachings from His Church. He would have us believe that we can stay firmly on the covenant path on our own, through our own spirituality, independent of His Church.
In these latter days, Christ’s Church was restored in order to help Christ’s covenant children stay on His covenant path.
In the Doctrine and Covenants we read, “Behold, this is my doctrine—whosoever repenteth and cometh unto me, the same is my church.”
Through Christ’s Church, we are strengthened through our experiences as a community of Saints. We hear His voice through His prophets, seers, and revelators. Most importantly, through His Church we are provided with all the essential blessings of Christ’s Atonement that can be realized only through participation in sacred ordinances.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is Christ’s Church on the earth, restored in these latter days for the benefit of all of God’s children.
I bear witness that as we come unto Christ and live as Latter-day Saints, we will be blessed with an added measure of His love, His joy, and His peace. Like Nephi, we can do difficult things and help others do the same, because we know in whom we can trust. Christ is our light, our life, and our salvation. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
As I held this page, I was filled with a profound appreciation for the efforts of the 23-year-old Joseph Smith, who translated the Book of Mormon by the “gift and power of God.” I also felt appreciation for the words of a young Nephi, who had been asked to perform a very difficult task in obtaining the plates of brass from Laban.
Nephi knew that if he continued to stay focused on the Lord, he would be successful in fulfilling what the Lord commanded him. He remained focused on the Savior throughout his life even though he suffered temptations, physical trials, and even the betrayal of some in his immediate family.
Nephi knew in whom He could trust. Shortly after exclaiming, “O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh,” Nephi stated, “My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.”
As followers of Christ, we are not spared challenges and trials in our lives. We are often required to do difficult things that, if attempted alone, would be overwhelming and maybe impossible. As we accept the Savior’s invitation to “come unto me,” He will provide the support, comfort, and peace that are necessary, just as He did for Nephi and Joseph. Even in our deepest trials, we can feel the warm embrace of His love as we trust Him and accept His will. We can experience the joy reserved for His faithful disciples, for “Christ is joy.”
In 2014, while serving a full-time mission, our family experienced an unexpected turn of events. When riding down a steep hill on a longboard, our youngest son fell and sustained a life-threatening injury to his brain. As his situation deteriorated, medical personnel rushed him into emergency surgery.
Our family knelt on the floor of an otherwise empty hospital room, and we poured our hearts out to God. In the midst of this confusing and painful moment, we were filled with our Heavenly Father’s love and peace.
We did not know what the future held or if we would see our son alive again. We did know very clearly that his life was in God’s hands and the results, from an eternal perspective, would work out for his and our good. Through the gift of the Spirit, we were fully prepared to accept any outcome.
It was not easy! The accident resulted in a two-month hospital stay while we were presiding over 400 full-time missionaries. Our son experienced a significant loss of memory. His recovery included long and difficult physical, speech, and occupational therapy sessions. Challenges remain, but over time we have witnessed a miracle.
We understand clearly that not every trial we face will have a result we wish for. However, as we remain focused on Christ, we will feel peace and see God’s miracles, whatever they may be, in His time and in His way.
There will be times when we will not be able to see any way that a current situation will end well and might even express, as Nephi, “My heart sorroweth because of my flesh.” There may be times that the only hope we have is in Jesus Christ. What a blessing to have that hope and trust in Him. Christ is the one who will always keep His promises. His rest is assured for all who come unto Him.
Our leaders deeply desire all to feel the peace and comfort that come through trusting in and focusing on the Savior Jesus Christ.
Our living prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, has been communicating the Lord’s vision for the world and for members of Christ’s Church: “Our message to the world is simple and sincere: we invite all of God’s children on both sides of the veil to come unto their Savior, receive the blessings of the holy temple, have enduring joy, and qualify for eternal life.”
This invitation to “come unto Christ” has specific implications for Latter-day Saints. As members of the Savior’s Church, we have made covenants with Him and have become His spiritually begotten sons and daughters. We have also been given the opportunity to labor with the Lord in inviting others to come unto Him.
As we labor with Christ, our most deeply focused efforts should be within our own homes. There will be times when family members and close friends will face challenges. The voices of the world, and maybe their own desires, might cause them to question truth. We should do everything we can to help them feel both the Savior’s love and our love. I am reminded of the scripture verse that has become our beloved hymn “Love One Another,” which teaches us, “By this shall … men know … ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”
In our love for those who are questioning truth, the enemy of all joy might try to make us feel that we betray those we love if we ourselves continue to live the fulness of the gospel and teach its truths.
Our ability to help others come unto Christ or return to Christ will largely be determined by the example we set through our own personal commitment to stay on the covenant path.
If our true desire is to rescue those we love, we ourselves must stay firmly with Christ by embracing His Church and the fulness of His gospel.
In returning to Nephi’s story, we know that Nephi’s inclination to trust in the Lord was influenced by his parents’ propensity to trust in the Lord and by their covenant-keeping example. This is beautifully exemplified in Lehi’s vision of the tree of life. After partaking of the sweet and joyful fruit of the tree, Lehi “cast [his] eyes round about, that perhaps [he] might discover [his] family.” He saw Sariah, Sam, and Nephi standing “as if they knew not whither they should go.” Lehi then stated, “I beckoned unto them; and I also did say unto them with a loud voice that they should come unto me, and partake of the fruit.” Please note that Lehi did not leave the tree of life. He stayed spiritually with the Lord and invited his family to come where he was to partake of the fruit.
The adversary would entice some to leave the joy of the gospel by separating Christ’s teachings from His Church. He would have us believe that we can stay firmly on the covenant path on our own, through our own spirituality, independent of His Church.
In these latter days, Christ’s Church was restored in order to help Christ’s covenant children stay on His covenant path.
In the Doctrine and Covenants we read, “Behold, this is my doctrine—whosoever repenteth and cometh unto me, the same is my church.”
Through Christ’s Church, we are strengthened through our experiences as a community of Saints. We hear His voice through His prophets, seers, and revelators. Most importantly, through His Church we are provided with all the essential blessings of Christ’s Atonement that can be realized only through participation in sacred ordinances.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is Christ’s Church on the earth, restored in these latter days for the benefit of all of God’s children.
I bear witness that as we come unto Christ and live as Latter-day Saints, we will be blessed with an added measure of His love, His joy, and His peace. Like Nephi, we can do difficult things and help others do the same, because we know in whom we can trust. Christ is our light, our life, and our salvation. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Read more →
👤 Joseph Smith
👤 Other
Book of Mormon
Commandments
Joseph Smith
Obedience
Revelation
Scriptures
The Restoration
Watched Over by Our Heavenly Father
Summary: Years later, the father lies dying in a San Diego hospital with Alzheimer’s while family members gather around him. The mother calls the narrator in Utah and describes his drifting memories and refusal to eat. When the narrator calls, the father unexpectedly sings the same lullaby over the phone, bringing the narrator gratitude and hope in God’s plan of salvation.
Now my baby brother is a father, and my dad lies in a hospital bed in San Diego, California, USA. Though he sees palm trees, he thinks he is a boy turning irrigation water down the rows of corn, tomatoes, and green beans. But he is not. He is dying.
Day after day, my mother, brothers, and sister gather around his bed. My mother calls me at my home in the mountains of Utah, USA. She tells me that when she shows my dad old family photos, a smile comes across his sunken face. Other times, his brothers, long since dead, wander in and out of his mind and heart. She tries to get him to eat, but he refuses. He tells her that his brothers have caught some trout and he has to go take care of the horses before dinner.
One by one we have made peace with the knowledge that when he passes from this mortal life, our dad will be “taken home to that God who gave [us] life,” to “paradise, … where [he will] rest from all [his] troubles and from all care, and sorrow” (Alma 40:11–12).
I call my mother and she hands the phone to my dad. To my surprise, he begins to sing to me: “Close your sleepy eyes, my little buckaroo, while your Heavenly Father watches over you.”
I wonder if my dad really knows it’s me. He probably doesn’t, but this song comes as a gift drifting into my heart. I weep in gratitude for this tender mercy from my Heavenly Father and for His plan of salvation. Soon the lullaby is over, and I imagine my dad’s eyes beginning to droop. The moment is gone, but I find hope in the knowledge that death is part of God’s plan to bring us home to Him. I believe in God’s plan and in His love for us as we pass from this life. I whisper, “Goodnight, Daddy. Go to sleep. Our Heavenly Father is watching over you.”
Day after day, my mother, brothers, and sister gather around his bed. My mother calls me at my home in the mountains of Utah, USA. She tells me that when she shows my dad old family photos, a smile comes across his sunken face. Other times, his brothers, long since dead, wander in and out of his mind and heart. She tries to get him to eat, but he refuses. He tells her that his brothers have caught some trout and he has to go take care of the horses before dinner.
One by one we have made peace with the knowledge that when he passes from this mortal life, our dad will be “taken home to that God who gave [us] life,” to “paradise, … where [he will] rest from all [his] troubles and from all care, and sorrow” (Alma 40:11–12).
I call my mother and she hands the phone to my dad. To my surprise, he begins to sing to me: “Close your sleepy eyes, my little buckaroo, while your Heavenly Father watches over you.”
I wonder if my dad really knows it’s me. He probably doesn’t, but this song comes as a gift drifting into my heart. I weep in gratitude for this tender mercy from my Heavenly Father and for His plan of salvation. Soon the lullaby is over, and I imagine my dad’s eyes beginning to droop. The moment is gone, but I find hope in the knowledge that death is part of God’s plan to bring us home to Him. I believe in God’s plan and in His love for us as we pass from this life. I whisper, “Goodnight, Daddy. Go to sleep. Our Heavenly Father is watching over you.”
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Death
Faith
Family
Gratitude
Grief
Hope
Mercy
Music
Plan of Salvation
Testimony
Getting Even
Summary: A boy plays a prank on his sister Charity by dropping a mouse into the privy, leading her to break a neighbor's windshield and then ruin his marble collection in revenge. Later, after their car breaks down, they wait on Temple Square, where the boy feels a peaceful, repentant spirit near the temple. He and Charity meet, both cry, and apologize to each other. They ride home talking warmly with their mother about what they felt at the temple.
June 27th. A lot happened today, and I don’t feel much like thinking about it, let alone writing about it. But President Heber J. Grant says keeping a journal of our daily doings is important, so I better get it done.
It all started this morning when my sister, Charity, was holed up in the privy with a catalog and I had a discomfort worse than I can ever remember. So I cornered a mouse in the root cellar, put it into a fruit jar, and dropped it through a hole in the privy wall.
Charity came screaming out of there madder than bees in a poked hive! She chased me from one end of the farm to the other, but I ran so fast that she couldn’t get close enough to me to do anything more than yell. So she commenced to throw rocks. She missed me—but not the windshield of Sister Donohue’s Model T Ford! Sister Donohue was at our house, working on a quilt with Mama.
When she saw what she’d done, Charity looked like she had just witnessed the end of the world. Then she made a face at me like something I had seen in a bad dream once, and started to cry. Sister Donohue didn’t get mad at her. She just stood there shaking her head.
I hurried off to the privy, figuring that Charity was going to be too concerned with paying for the windshield to think about getting even with me. But was I wrong! The first thing I saw when I got out of the privy and went to my room was Charity—with the little box of marbles I’ve been collecting since I was six years old.
She was standing just outside my open window, holding up the box so that I was sure to see it. I ran outside, but she was gone. Then I saw her by our pet pig Thaddius’ pen. He was wallowing in the mud, which was nice and oozy from last night’s rain.
Charity smiled at me and threw my collection into the mud. By the time I got to the pen, Thaddius had stomped and rolled over the marbles good, and I could only find eight of my twenty-two. The pretty one I found under the schoolhouse steps was gone, and so was the big agate I’d won from Lenny. And every kid in school wanted that one!
I said some hurtful things to Charity and spent the next little while in my room, thinking of ways I could get even with her. And when she walked by my room, she gave me a look that said if I did any of them, I’d soon wish I’d never been born!
After lunch, Mama said that she needed Charity and me to go to the city with her. She needed me to help load the car with groceries and to crank it up. And she needed Charity to choose some material for a dress she was going to make her for a family reunion.
The drive to Salt Lake City takes about an hour. It was real quiet the whole way except for when Mama talked about getting along with one another, and about how the scarecrow in Brother McKillop’s field looked so much like him. I didn’t look at it—I’d have had to look out the window on Charity’s side, and I wasn’t about to look at her any more than she wanted to look at me.
We’d finished shopping and started for home when the car broke down. Some kind men helped us push it up the street to an automobile shop, and the man there said that he’d have it running again in a couple hours. Mama wanted to wait on the temple grounds until it was ready, so that’s what we did.
Mama and Papa were married in the Salt Lake Temple, and she said that outside of heaven or home, it was the best place to be. It is pretty there. It looks like a place where God would like to visit. Mama says that He has visited all His holy temples. She told Charity and me that when she was doing Great-Grandma Lavina’s temple work for her, Great-Grandma appeared to her and put her hand on Mama’s shoulder.
Anyway, Mama told Charity and me that we could go wherever we wanted to go on Temple Square, but to not leave it. She’d find us when she was ready to return to the shop.
Neither one of us wanted to do anything together, so Charity went one way and I went another. I ended up in the museum on the southeast corner of the temple grounds. It had a lot of neat stuff on both floors—Indian artifacts, a strand of the Prophet Joseph’s hair, his bed, little stands with glass covers that had interesting things inside. There was even a big old piano that had been buried along the trail by a family of Saints while they were crossing the plains. That was to keep it safe until they could return for it.
I would’ve enjoyed the museum more if Charity and I hadn’t been so angry at each other. It kind of ruined the feelings that kept trying to grow in me.
Finally I went and sat on a window seat in a little room called the President’s Room. People could sit in it and write postcards and things like that. I wasn’t feeling too good. I thought at first I was just tired or something. But it wasn’t that. I was feeling more and more guilty about being mad at my sister. This was such a sacred place that I couldn’t help feeling bad about feeling bad about anybody, even Charity.
An old man and lady came in. There weren’t enough places for them to sit, so I got up and walked over to the temple. It was getting pretty hot, so I sat in the shadows of those big walls. I got a real warm, reverent feeling—like I do in church when the sacrament is being passed, or like sometimes when I say my prayers.
The feeling started taking up so much room in me that it began pushing the hard feelings I had toward my sister right out. It started pushing tears out too. Other people were close by, and I didn’t want them to see me crying, so I left.
Just as I was turning the corner of the temple, I ran into Charity. We both just stood there and stared at each other. Then she began to cry. She hugged me and said she was sorry. I said I was sorry too.
It was late in the day when Charity, Mama, and I left Salt Lake City for home. I looked back at the temple. It stood as tall as a fine memory against the gold sky.
Mama didn’t have to fill up the silence with talk on the way home, because Charity and I didn’t leave her any room. We talked about everything, especially the temple. What we had seen. And felt. Especially what we had felt. Mama just listened, nodded, and smiled. A lot. And said again when we passed by Brother McKillop’s field how much his scarecrow looked like him. And she’s right—he does. But I’m not going to tell Brother McKillop!
It all started this morning when my sister, Charity, was holed up in the privy with a catalog and I had a discomfort worse than I can ever remember. So I cornered a mouse in the root cellar, put it into a fruit jar, and dropped it through a hole in the privy wall.
Charity came screaming out of there madder than bees in a poked hive! She chased me from one end of the farm to the other, but I ran so fast that she couldn’t get close enough to me to do anything more than yell. So she commenced to throw rocks. She missed me—but not the windshield of Sister Donohue’s Model T Ford! Sister Donohue was at our house, working on a quilt with Mama.
When she saw what she’d done, Charity looked like she had just witnessed the end of the world. Then she made a face at me like something I had seen in a bad dream once, and started to cry. Sister Donohue didn’t get mad at her. She just stood there shaking her head.
I hurried off to the privy, figuring that Charity was going to be too concerned with paying for the windshield to think about getting even with me. But was I wrong! The first thing I saw when I got out of the privy and went to my room was Charity—with the little box of marbles I’ve been collecting since I was six years old.
She was standing just outside my open window, holding up the box so that I was sure to see it. I ran outside, but she was gone. Then I saw her by our pet pig Thaddius’ pen. He was wallowing in the mud, which was nice and oozy from last night’s rain.
Charity smiled at me and threw my collection into the mud. By the time I got to the pen, Thaddius had stomped and rolled over the marbles good, and I could only find eight of my twenty-two. The pretty one I found under the schoolhouse steps was gone, and so was the big agate I’d won from Lenny. And every kid in school wanted that one!
I said some hurtful things to Charity and spent the next little while in my room, thinking of ways I could get even with her. And when she walked by my room, she gave me a look that said if I did any of them, I’d soon wish I’d never been born!
After lunch, Mama said that she needed Charity and me to go to the city with her. She needed me to help load the car with groceries and to crank it up. And she needed Charity to choose some material for a dress she was going to make her for a family reunion.
The drive to Salt Lake City takes about an hour. It was real quiet the whole way except for when Mama talked about getting along with one another, and about how the scarecrow in Brother McKillop’s field looked so much like him. I didn’t look at it—I’d have had to look out the window on Charity’s side, and I wasn’t about to look at her any more than she wanted to look at me.
We’d finished shopping and started for home when the car broke down. Some kind men helped us push it up the street to an automobile shop, and the man there said that he’d have it running again in a couple hours. Mama wanted to wait on the temple grounds until it was ready, so that’s what we did.
Mama and Papa were married in the Salt Lake Temple, and she said that outside of heaven or home, it was the best place to be. It is pretty there. It looks like a place where God would like to visit. Mama says that He has visited all His holy temples. She told Charity and me that when she was doing Great-Grandma Lavina’s temple work for her, Great-Grandma appeared to her and put her hand on Mama’s shoulder.
Anyway, Mama told Charity and me that we could go wherever we wanted to go on Temple Square, but to not leave it. She’d find us when she was ready to return to the shop.
Neither one of us wanted to do anything together, so Charity went one way and I went another. I ended up in the museum on the southeast corner of the temple grounds. It had a lot of neat stuff on both floors—Indian artifacts, a strand of the Prophet Joseph’s hair, his bed, little stands with glass covers that had interesting things inside. There was even a big old piano that had been buried along the trail by a family of Saints while they were crossing the plains. That was to keep it safe until they could return for it.
I would’ve enjoyed the museum more if Charity and I hadn’t been so angry at each other. It kind of ruined the feelings that kept trying to grow in me.
Finally I went and sat on a window seat in a little room called the President’s Room. People could sit in it and write postcards and things like that. I wasn’t feeling too good. I thought at first I was just tired or something. But it wasn’t that. I was feeling more and more guilty about being mad at my sister. This was such a sacred place that I couldn’t help feeling bad about feeling bad about anybody, even Charity.
An old man and lady came in. There weren’t enough places for them to sit, so I got up and walked over to the temple. It was getting pretty hot, so I sat in the shadows of those big walls. I got a real warm, reverent feeling—like I do in church when the sacrament is being passed, or like sometimes when I say my prayers.
The feeling started taking up so much room in me that it began pushing the hard feelings I had toward my sister right out. It started pushing tears out too. Other people were close by, and I didn’t want them to see me crying, so I left.
Just as I was turning the corner of the temple, I ran into Charity. We both just stood there and stared at each other. Then she began to cry. She hugged me and said she was sorry. I said I was sorry too.
It was late in the day when Charity, Mama, and I left Salt Lake City for home. I looked back at the temple. It stood as tall as a fine memory against the gold sky.
Mama didn’t have to fill up the silence with talk on the way home, because Charity and I didn’t leave her any room. We talked about everything, especially the temple. What we had seen. And felt. Especially what we had felt. Mama just listened, nodded, and smiled. A lot. And said again when we passed by Brother McKillop’s field how much his scarecrow looked like him. And she’s right—he does. But I’m not going to tell Brother McKillop!
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptisms for the Dead
Children
Family
Family History
Forgiveness
Holy Ghost
Repentance
Reverence
Temples
The Helpers
Summary: Cindy is asked to watch her toddler brother, Bobby, and they play with towels as capes. During their play, Cindy accidentally knocks a plant off the windowsill, and their mother assumes Bobby did it. Cindy chooses to confess, and her mother thanks her for telling the truth, after which Bobby brings the dustpan and wants to help.
“Do I have to watch Bobby again?” Cindy asked.
“It’s just for a little while, dear. You know how he can get into things. You’re such a good helper.” Mother smiled at Cindy as she went out the apartment door with a basket of laundry in her arms.
Cindy sighed and shut the door. She turned and looked at her baby brother. Bobby banged two blocks together.
“Ah-bah, ah-bah, Mama!” Bobby yelled.
Cindy shook her head. “When are you going to really talk? When are you going to be a helper like me?”
“Me … bah.” Bobby laughed and started climbing up onto the couch.
“Oh no you don’t,” Cindy said as she picked up Bobby and put him on the floor by his toys.
“No, no?” asked Bobby.
“Right. Climbing onto the couch is a no-no. Let’s do something else. We can play Wonder Woman and Superman.”
“Dooper!” Bobby grinned happily.
Cindy ran to her bedroom to get her cape, but she couldn’t find it anywhere.
“I bet you lost it, Bobby. Tell me where you put my cape.”
“Bah-ma. Dooper?” said Bobby.
“I give up,” Cindy said. “If you’d just talk like the rest of us, that would be a big help.”
Cindy went into the bathroom and found two large towels. She tied one loosely around Bobby’s shoulders, then put the other one on herself. Cindy twirled on her toes, letting her cape fly out around her. Then she ran down the hallway. “Wheee!”
“Eeeeh!” Bobby echoed.
Cindy ran around the living room. Bobby ran too. Cindy leaped up and down. Bobby hopped the best that he could in imitation. Cindy jumped over the magazine rack. Bobby tried to do it, too, but he bumped his knee. He screamed. As Cindy turned around to see what had happened, her long cape flew out and hit a potted plant on the windowsill. The pot wobbled back and forth. Bobby stopped screaming. They both stood still and watched helplessly as the pot fell.
Crash!
“Oh, no!” cried Cindy, bending down to look at the mess. There was dirt all over the floor, but the plant didn’t look broken.
“No-no,” Bobby announced.
“It sure is a big no-no! Give me your towel. I’d better put them away and clean up this mess.”
While Cindy was in the bathroom, she heard her mother open the apartment door.
“Bobby!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”
Cindy went back into the living room. Her mother was pulling Bobby away from the pile of dirt, where he was playing.
“Oh, Cindy,” Mother said, “I wish that you’d watched Bobby a little better.”
Bobby pointed at the floor and said, “No-no!” Then he ran out of the room.
Cindy knew that her mother thought that Bobby had broken the pot. It would be easy not to tell what had really happened. …
“Mom,” Cindy said at last, “I’m sorry.”
“I know, Cindy. It’s not your fault. Please get the dustpan and brush. I think that we can save the plant.”
Cindy didn’t move, even though she wanted to run away.
“Hurry up, dear.” Mother picked up the plant.
“I said that I was sorry,” Cindy said slowly, “because I knocked down the plant.”
“Oh, Cindy!” Mother looked at her and put down the plant. Then she hugged Cindy. “Thank you for telling me what really happened. Now we’ll clean this mess up together. You are a good helper.”
“Mama!” Bobby yelled. He had come back holding the dustpan and brush. He waved the pan in the air and said, “Me do.”
“Oh, Mom,” Cindy exclaimed happily, “Bobby is learning to talk better and to be a helper too.”
“It’s just for a little while, dear. You know how he can get into things. You’re such a good helper.” Mother smiled at Cindy as she went out the apartment door with a basket of laundry in her arms.
Cindy sighed and shut the door. She turned and looked at her baby brother. Bobby banged two blocks together.
“Ah-bah, ah-bah, Mama!” Bobby yelled.
Cindy shook her head. “When are you going to really talk? When are you going to be a helper like me?”
“Me … bah.” Bobby laughed and started climbing up onto the couch.
“Oh no you don’t,” Cindy said as she picked up Bobby and put him on the floor by his toys.
“No, no?” asked Bobby.
“Right. Climbing onto the couch is a no-no. Let’s do something else. We can play Wonder Woman and Superman.”
“Dooper!” Bobby grinned happily.
Cindy ran to her bedroom to get her cape, but she couldn’t find it anywhere.
“I bet you lost it, Bobby. Tell me where you put my cape.”
“Bah-ma. Dooper?” said Bobby.
“I give up,” Cindy said. “If you’d just talk like the rest of us, that would be a big help.”
Cindy went into the bathroom and found two large towels. She tied one loosely around Bobby’s shoulders, then put the other one on herself. Cindy twirled on her toes, letting her cape fly out around her. Then she ran down the hallway. “Wheee!”
“Eeeeh!” Bobby echoed.
Cindy ran around the living room. Bobby ran too. Cindy leaped up and down. Bobby hopped the best that he could in imitation. Cindy jumped over the magazine rack. Bobby tried to do it, too, but he bumped his knee. He screamed. As Cindy turned around to see what had happened, her long cape flew out and hit a potted plant on the windowsill. The pot wobbled back and forth. Bobby stopped screaming. They both stood still and watched helplessly as the pot fell.
Crash!
“Oh, no!” cried Cindy, bending down to look at the mess. There was dirt all over the floor, but the plant didn’t look broken.
“No-no,” Bobby announced.
“It sure is a big no-no! Give me your towel. I’d better put them away and clean up this mess.”
While Cindy was in the bathroom, she heard her mother open the apartment door.
“Bobby!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”
Cindy went back into the living room. Her mother was pulling Bobby away from the pile of dirt, where he was playing.
“Oh, Cindy,” Mother said, “I wish that you’d watched Bobby a little better.”
Bobby pointed at the floor and said, “No-no!” Then he ran out of the room.
Cindy knew that her mother thought that Bobby had broken the pot. It would be easy not to tell what had really happened. …
“Mom,” Cindy said at last, “I’m sorry.”
“I know, Cindy. It’s not your fault. Please get the dustpan and brush. I think that we can save the plant.”
Cindy didn’t move, even though she wanted to run away.
“Hurry up, dear.” Mother picked up the plant.
“I said that I was sorry,” Cindy said slowly, “because I knocked down the plant.”
“Oh, Cindy!” Mother looked at her and put down the plant. Then she hugged Cindy. “Thank you for telling me what really happened. Now we’ll clean this mess up together. You are a good helper.”
“Mama!” Bobby yelled. He had come back holding the dustpan and brush. He waved the pan in the air and said, “Me do.”
“Oh, Mom,” Cindy exclaimed happily, “Bobby is learning to talk better and to be a helper too.”
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
Agency and Accountability
Children
Family
Honesty
Kindness
Parenting
Service
The Atonement of Jesus Christ
Summary: As a young missionary, Orson F. Whitney dreamed he was in Gethsemane witnessing the Savior’s agony and the sleeping Apostles. After the Crucifixion, he ran to the Savior, pleading to go with Him, but was told he must stay and finish his work. When he asked for a promise to be with the Savior at last, he was told it would depend entirely on himself. He awoke weeping, deeply moved by the experience.
As a young missionary, Elder Orson F. Whitney (1855–1931), who later served in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had a dream so powerful that it changed his life forever. He later wrote:
“One night I dreamed … that I was in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior’s agony. … I stood behind a tree in the foreground. … Jesus, with Peter, James, and John, came through a little wicket gate at my right. Leaving the three Apostles there, after telling them to kneel and pray, He passed over to the other side, where He also knelt and prayed … : ‘Oh my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will but as Thou wilt.’
“As He prayed the tears streamed down His face, which was [turned] toward me. I was so moved at the sight that I wept also, out of pure sympathy with His great sorrow. My whole heart went out to Him. I loved Him with all my soul and longed to be with Him as I longed for nothing else.
“Presently He arose and walked to where those Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least show of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. …
“Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened, until I was perfectly familiar with His appearance—face, form, and movements. He was of noble stature and of majestic mien … the very God that He was and is, yet as meek and lowly as a little child.
“All at once the circumstance seemed to change. … Instead of before, it was after the Crucifixion, and the Savior, with those three Apostles, now stood together in a group at my left. They were about to depart and ascend into heaven. I could endure it no longer. I ran from behind the tree, fell at His feet, clasped Him around the knees, and begged Him to take me with Him.
“I shall never forget the kind and gentle manner in which He stooped and raised me up and embraced me. It was so vivid, so real that I felt the very warmth of His bosom against which I rested. Then He said: ‘No, my son; these have finished their work, and they may go with me; but you must stay and finish yours.’ Still I clung to Him. Gazing up into His face—for He was taller than I—I besought Him most earnestly: ‘Well, promise me that I will come to You at the last.’ He smiled sweetly and tenderly and replied: ‘That will depend entirely upon yourself.’ I awoke with a sob in my throat, and it was morning.”
“One night I dreamed … that I was in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior’s agony. … I stood behind a tree in the foreground. … Jesus, with Peter, James, and John, came through a little wicket gate at my right. Leaving the three Apostles there, after telling them to kneel and pray, He passed over to the other side, where He also knelt and prayed … : ‘Oh my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will but as Thou wilt.’
“As He prayed the tears streamed down His face, which was [turned] toward me. I was so moved at the sight that I wept also, out of pure sympathy with His great sorrow. My whole heart went out to Him. I loved Him with all my soul and longed to be with Him as I longed for nothing else.
“Presently He arose and walked to where those Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least show of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. …
“Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened, until I was perfectly familiar with His appearance—face, form, and movements. He was of noble stature and of majestic mien … the very God that He was and is, yet as meek and lowly as a little child.
“All at once the circumstance seemed to change. … Instead of before, it was after the Crucifixion, and the Savior, with those three Apostles, now stood together in a group at my left. They were about to depart and ascend into heaven. I could endure it no longer. I ran from behind the tree, fell at His feet, clasped Him around the knees, and begged Him to take me with Him.
“I shall never forget the kind and gentle manner in which He stooped and raised me up and embraced me. It was so vivid, so real that I felt the very warmth of His bosom against which I rested. Then He said: ‘No, my son; these have finished their work, and they may go with me; but you must stay and finish yours.’ Still I clung to Him. Gazing up into His face—for He was taller than I—I besought Him most earnestly: ‘Well, promise me that I will come to You at the last.’ He smiled sweetly and tenderly and replied: ‘That will depend entirely upon yourself.’ I awoke with a sob in my throat, and it was morning.”
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👤 Jesus Christ
👤 Prophets/Apostles (Scriptural)
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Missionaries
Apostle
Atonement of Jesus Christ
Conversion
Jesus Christ
Missionary Work
Prayer
Revelation
Testimony
Too Busy to Care
Summary: As a 14-year-old on a Washington farm, the narrator neglected her chore to count the herd, especially during calving season. A heifer suffered in the woods for days and lost her calf because she went unnoticed. With a vet and her father, she helped remove the calf and then spent months nursing the heifer back to health. Her father responded with love, and she learned the lasting lesson to heed simple instructions.
I grew up on a farm in Washington State, where my parents raised kids and cattle. I was the youngest in our large family, and at 14 I was busy trying to balance chores at home with my budding social schedule.
Each day after school it was my responsibility to feed and count all 60 head of cattle to make sure that each was safe. To a 14-year-old girl, this was a tedious chore, so I avoided counting them. In the winter it wasn’t as dangerous because none of the cattle were calving, but when the spring hit, it was critical that the pregnant heifers that had never given birth were each watched carefully. But I was too busy worrying about my hair and braces to be bothered about a few cows.
I clearly remember the day I was pulled out of school and rushed home to help. One of our young heifers, my very own actually, had been in labor for three days, hidden in the woods, suffering with no food, no water, and no help. The unborn calf had perished days before, and the cow had been unable to birth it. So, with the help of a vet, my father and I had to remove it from her.
When I pulled up in the truck and saw my father standing there, I was sure he would be angry with me. He had told me thousands of times to count the cattle, always asking if they were all there and all safe. But I was too busy to listen. I was too busy with things I thought were more important, like basketball practice. Or I would wait too long and feed them in the dark, making it impossible to count the herd. At the time, my own things really did seem more important. I didn’t understand; I didn’t have the big picture yet.
When I looked at that poor animal suffering from starvation, crippled and ruined, never again to bear a calf, I knew my father had been right. I had chosen not to listen to his simple instructions, and the consequences affected far more than my own life. I spent the next two months nursing the animal back to health, working her through the paralysis, and doing my best to repair the damage I had caused.
My father? He loved me. He put his arms around me and knew that I would never do it again. He knew that I had learned the lesson the hard way, but it was learned. If only I had listened. It was my own laziness, my own selfish insistence on my personal comfort that had kept me from following my dad’s simple instructions that would have saved a life.
Each day after school it was my responsibility to feed and count all 60 head of cattle to make sure that each was safe. To a 14-year-old girl, this was a tedious chore, so I avoided counting them. In the winter it wasn’t as dangerous because none of the cattle were calving, but when the spring hit, it was critical that the pregnant heifers that had never given birth were each watched carefully. But I was too busy worrying about my hair and braces to be bothered about a few cows.
I clearly remember the day I was pulled out of school and rushed home to help. One of our young heifers, my very own actually, had been in labor for three days, hidden in the woods, suffering with no food, no water, and no help. The unborn calf had perished days before, and the cow had been unable to birth it. So, with the help of a vet, my father and I had to remove it from her.
When I pulled up in the truck and saw my father standing there, I was sure he would be angry with me. He had told me thousands of times to count the cattle, always asking if they were all there and all safe. But I was too busy to listen. I was too busy with things I thought were more important, like basketball practice. Or I would wait too long and feed them in the dark, making it impossible to count the herd. At the time, my own things really did seem more important. I didn’t understand; I didn’t have the big picture yet.
When I looked at that poor animal suffering from starvation, crippled and ruined, never again to bear a calf, I knew my father had been right. I had chosen not to listen to his simple instructions, and the consequences affected far more than my own life. I spent the next two months nursing the animal back to health, working her through the paralysis, and doing my best to repair the damage I had caused.
My father? He loved me. He put his arms around me and knew that I would never do it again. He knew that I had learned the lesson the hard way, but it was learned. If only I had listened. It was my own laziness, my own selfish insistence on my personal comfort that had kept me from following my dad’s simple instructions that would have saved a life.
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Agency and Accountability
Family
Forgiveness
Obedience
Parenting
Repentance
Service
Stewardship
You’re in the Driver’s Seat
Summary: A Church leader imagines gifting a fancy convertible to a teenager and covering all expenses. When the teen attends a church social in a group, the father later loans the car to an unknown boy without details of who he is or when it will be returned. The absurdity of the father's choice illustrates that parents should not 'loan' their children for unsupervised dating and that youth should accept parental guidelines.
Several years ago I visited a large automobile dealership and looked at many new automobiles. One in particular caught my eye—a convertible sports model with all of the fancy equipment you could imagine. It had push-button everything and more horsepower than a division of cavalry. How I would have enjoyed a car like that when I was in high school! It occurred to me that you of high school age may be interested in owning such a car.
Will you imagine something with me? Imagine that I have decided to present to a typical teenager a car such as this, and you are the one who has been chosen. On the evening of the presentation, I see that you are not quite financially able to run such a car, so I generously include free gas, oil, maintenance, tires, anything your car will use. I’ll give you all of this, and the bills will come to me.
How you will enjoy that car! Think of driving it to school tomorrow. Think of all the new friends you will suddenly acquire.
Your parents may be hesitant to let you use this car freely, so I will visit with them. I am sure they will be reluctant, but because of my position as one of the leaders of the Church, they will consent.
Let us imagine, then, that you have your car, everything to run it, and freedom to use it.
Suppose that one evening you are invited to attend a Church social. “There are just enough of you to ride in my station wagon,” your teacher says. “You may leave your car home.” When they come to take you to the party, you suddenly remember your new convertible, with the top down, parked at the curb. You run back in the house and give the car keys to your father, asking that he put it in the garage, for it looks as if it may rain. Your father, of course, obediently agrees.
Later you come home and notice your car is not at the curb. “Dear old Dad,” you muse, “always willing to help out.” But as the station wagon pulls into the driveway and the lights flash into the garage, you see it stands empty.
You rush into the house, find Father, and ask where your car is.
“Oh, I loaned it to someone,” he responds.
Then imagine a conversation such as this.
“Well, who was it?” you ask.
“Oh, that boy who comes by here regularly,” Dad says.
“What boy?”
“Oh, that … well, I have seen him pass here several times on his bicycle.”
“What is his name?”
“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t find out.”
“Where did he take the car?”
“That really wasn’t made clear.”
“When will he bring it back?”
“Well, there really wasn’t any agreement on that.”
Then suppose that your father should say to you, with some impatience, “Now you calm down. He rushed in here. He needed a car. You weren’t using it. He seemed to be in a frantic hurry over something, and he looked like an honest boy, so I gave him the keys. Now relax. Go to bed. Calm down.”
I suppose under the circumstances you would look at your father with a puzzled expression and wonder if some important connection had slipped loose in his thinking mechanism.
It would take a foolish father to lend such an expensive piece of equipment on an arrangement such as that—particularly a car that belonged to you.
Will you imagine something with me? Imagine that I have decided to present to a typical teenager a car such as this, and you are the one who has been chosen. On the evening of the presentation, I see that you are not quite financially able to run such a car, so I generously include free gas, oil, maintenance, tires, anything your car will use. I’ll give you all of this, and the bills will come to me.
How you will enjoy that car! Think of driving it to school tomorrow. Think of all the new friends you will suddenly acquire.
Your parents may be hesitant to let you use this car freely, so I will visit with them. I am sure they will be reluctant, but because of my position as one of the leaders of the Church, they will consent.
Let us imagine, then, that you have your car, everything to run it, and freedom to use it.
Suppose that one evening you are invited to attend a Church social. “There are just enough of you to ride in my station wagon,” your teacher says. “You may leave your car home.” When they come to take you to the party, you suddenly remember your new convertible, with the top down, parked at the curb. You run back in the house and give the car keys to your father, asking that he put it in the garage, for it looks as if it may rain. Your father, of course, obediently agrees.
Later you come home and notice your car is not at the curb. “Dear old Dad,” you muse, “always willing to help out.” But as the station wagon pulls into the driveway and the lights flash into the garage, you see it stands empty.
You rush into the house, find Father, and ask where your car is.
“Oh, I loaned it to someone,” he responds.
Then imagine a conversation such as this.
“Well, who was it?” you ask.
“Oh, that boy who comes by here regularly,” Dad says.
“What boy?”
“Oh, that … well, I have seen him pass here several times on his bicycle.”
“What is his name?”
“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t find out.”
“Where did he take the car?”
“That really wasn’t made clear.”
“When will he bring it back?”
“Well, there really wasn’t any agreement on that.”
Then suppose that your father should say to you, with some impatience, “Now you calm down. He rushed in here. He needed a car. You weren’t using it. He seemed to be in a frantic hurry over something, and he looked like an honest boy, so I gave him the keys. Now relax. Go to bed. Calm down.”
I suppose under the circumstances you would look at your father with a puzzled expression and wonder if some important connection had slipped loose in his thinking mechanism.
It would take a foolish father to lend such an expensive piece of equipment on an arrangement such as that—particularly a car that belonged to you.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Parents
👤 Youth
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Other
Agency and Accountability
Parenting
Stewardship
Young Men
True Stories from Hawaii
Summary: Eight-year-old Joe Lee, recently baptized, desired his nonmember father to join the Church. Invited unexpectedly to speak during conference, he bore a simple testimony and asked for prayers for his father. Shortly thereafter, Joe’s father was baptized, and about a year later the family was sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple.
Joe Lee sat quietly in conference listening to the people who spoke. He couldn’t understand all they said, but he loved singing the songs with them. He thought how wonderful it would be if he could go up on the stand and tell everyone how exciting it was to be a member of the Church.
Joe was an eight-year-old Korean-Hawaiian boy who had just been baptized. He lived on the island of Molokai in Hoolehua, Hawaii. Joe and his mother were members of the Church, but his father had no interest in it at all. Joe had such a good feeling that he wanted his father to become a member of the Church too.
That night after conference Joe told his mother the thoughts that had come to him during the meeting and later she told Brother Murphy, who was conducting the conference, what her young son had said.
During the next session of conference Joe suddenly heard his name called. Brother Murphy was inviting him to go up to the pulpit and speak!
Joe quickly stood up, and while he was walking up to the pulpit, someone on the stand hurried to get a little chair. Many in the meeting wondered what an eight-year-old boy who was called out of the audience might say.
Joe stood on the chair and spoke into the microphone. A breathless hush came over everyone as Joe began, “Aloha everybody!” He paused only a moment. Then in a clear calm voice he went on, “I know that Jesus is God’s own Son. I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet.”
Tears filled many eyes when Joe said, “My father is not a member of the Church. Please pray that he will become one so he can take Mother and our family to the temple. Then we will all be together in the next world.”
Joe’s prayer and the prayers of others were answered a short time later when Joe’s father was baptized. One of the happiest days of Joe’s life was about a year later when his father took his family to the temple at Laie, where they were sealed as a family.
Joe was an eight-year-old Korean-Hawaiian boy who had just been baptized. He lived on the island of Molokai in Hoolehua, Hawaii. Joe and his mother were members of the Church, but his father had no interest in it at all. Joe had such a good feeling that he wanted his father to become a member of the Church too.
That night after conference Joe told his mother the thoughts that had come to him during the meeting and later she told Brother Murphy, who was conducting the conference, what her young son had said.
During the next session of conference Joe suddenly heard his name called. Brother Murphy was inviting him to go up to the pulpit and speak!
Joe quickly stood up, and while he was walking up to the pulpit, someone on the stand hurried to get a little chair. Many in the meeting wondered what an eight-year-old boy who was called out of the audience might say.
Joe stood on the chair and spoke into the microphone. A breathless hush came over everyone as Joe began, “Aloha everybody!” He paused only a moment. Then in a clear calm voice he went on, “I know that Jesus is God’s own Son. I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet.”
Tears filled many eyes when Joe said, “My father is not a member of the Church. Please pray that he will become one so he can take Mother and our family to the temple. Then we will all be together in the next world.”
Joe’s prayer and the prayers of others were answered a short time later when Joe’s father was baptized. One of the happiest days of Joe’s life was about a year later when his father took his family to the temple at Laie, where they were sealed as a family.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptism
Children
Conversion
Faith
Family
Joseph Smith
Prayer
Sealing
Temples
Testimony
Cole Helps the Baby Birds
Summary: During a storm, Cole worries about a bird nest in a tree. The next morning he finds the nest on the ground with the baby birds chirping and the mother bird distressed. Cole's dad uses a ladder to carefully place the nest back in the tree. The birds are happy, and Cole feels glad he could help God's creations.
Whoooo! Cole listened to thewind blow outside. Cole thought about the nest in the tree. He hoped the baby birds were OK in the storm. The next morning Cole ran outside. He looked up at the tree. No nest! The mommy bird looked worried. Then Cole saw the nest. It was on the ground. “Chirp! Chirp!” the baby birds said. Dad put a ladder against the tree. He carefully put the nest back in the tree. “Chirp! Chirp!” the mommy bird said. The birds were happy! And Cole was happy he could help some of God’s creations.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Children
Creation
Kindness
Parenting
Service
From Numbness to Purpose
Summary: The speaker describes years of living with major depressive disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder, including a hospitalization during college and a struggle to understand how God could use the experience. Through priesthood blessings, trust in doctors, and gradual healing, the speaker eventually began sharing a mental health journey online.
Afterward, male friends began reaching out with similar struggles, and the speaker realized those trials had prepared them to help others. The story concludes with a lesson from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland that God expects us to use both priesthood blessings and the best medical care available for emotional disorders.
As someone with major depressive disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder, I faced this reality for many years. I didn’t know how the Spirit felt. When my symptoms became bad during college, I ended up in the hospital for a week.
During those dark times inside my mind, I wondered how these illnesses would help me in the long run. How would God use this troubling experience for my good? What purpose did He have for me in giving me this trial?
I asked for priesthood blessings during this time, and there was always one sentence I heard repeatedly: “God has given you the resources to overcome this trial.” Having faith that He would lead me to what I needed in order to heal, I decided to trust my doctors. Little by little, I got the help I needed. Over time, I shared my mental health journey online.
Soon afterward, I began receiving messages from my male friends, asking about my mental health and sharing their similar thoughts and feelings. They asked me for help to know how to fight their numbness. At first I was surprised.
In many cultures, men are expected to always appear strong and never reveal their emotions. That makes it hard for them to admit they need help, and they often suffer in silence.
When this happened for the third time, I realized that my trials had prepared me to help. All those dark moments, all those therapy sessions, all my prayers, and all my efforts to exercise faith as I sought heavenly help taught me to recognize when others are facing similar trials and how to point them toward help.
I have learned the truth of these words from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “If you had appendicitis, God would expect you to seek a priesthood blessing and get the best medical care available. So too with emotional disorders. Our Father in Heaven expects us to use all of the marvelous gifts He has provided in this glorious dispensation.”1
During those dark times inside my mind, I wondered how these illnesses would help me in the long run. How would God use this troubling experience for my good? What purpose did He have for me in giving me this trial?
I asked for priesthood blessings during this time, and there was always one sentence I heard repeatedly: “God has given you the resources to overcome this trial.” Having faith that He would lead me to what I needed in order to heal, I decided to trust my doctors. Little by little, I got the help I needed. Over time, I shared my mental health journey online.
Soon afterward, I began receiving messages from my male friends, asking about my mental health and sharing their similar thoughts and feelings. They asked me for help to know how to fight their numbness. At first I was surprised.
In many cultures, men are expected to always appear strong and never reveal their emotions. That makes it hard for them to admit they need help, and they often suffer in silence.
When this happened for the third time, I realized that my trials had prepared me to help. All those dark moments, all those therapy sessions, all my prayers, and all my efforts to exercise faith as I sought heavenly help taught me to recognize when others are facing similar trials and how to point them toward help.
I have learned the truth of these words from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “If you had appendicitis, God would expect you to seek a priesthood blessing and get the best medical care available. So too with emotional disorders. Our Father in Heaven expects us to use all of the marvelous gifts He has provided in this glorious dispensation.”1
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👤 Young Adults
Adversity
Faith
Mental Health
Priesthood Blessing
Catching the Vision of Self-Reliance
Summary: Inspired by counsel, the Lugo family in Venezuela began modestly building food storage and savings. When a strike led to Brother Omar Lugo losing his job, they lived on their reserves for nearly two years. Their preparation brought peace and confidence despite unemployment.
After learning of this counsel, the Lugo family of Valencia, Venezuela, felt inspired to begin their own home storage. Each week they began setting aside a small amount of food, water, and money. Even with their limited resources, they were able to gather a modest reserve after only a few months. Later that year a workers’ strike in Venezuela put many local workers’ jobs in jeopardy. Brother Omar Lugo was among those who eventually lost their jobs.
It took nearly two years for Brother Lugo to find new employment. During that time, Brother Lugo and his family lived on their savings and food storage. Despite the difficult challenges of unemployment, the Lugos experienced peace and comfort because they were prepared. They faced the uncertain future with confidence, knowing they had followed the counsel to gradually build their home storage.9
It took nearly two years for Brother Lugo to find new employment. During that time, Brother Lugo and his family lived on their savings and food storage. Despite the difficult challenges of unemployment, the Lugos experienced peace and comfort because they were prepared. They faced the uncertain future with confidence, knowing they had followed the counsel to gradually build their home storage.9
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👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Adversity
Emergency Preparedness
Employment
Family
Peace
Revelation
Self-Reliance