Gospel Story Finder

When I was seven years old, my parents asked me why I was limping. They took me to a doctor, who said I had an incurable hip disease. It had caused my right leg to almost stop growing. Without treatment, my right leg would be four to six inches shorter than my left leg as an adult. He sent me to a specialized doctor who told me to keep pressure off the hip until I was full grown. Even then, I would still have a four-inch difference in the length of my legs. I had two choices: stay in bed or wear a brace. I chose the brace. I didn’t feel afraid because I had faith that Heavenly Father would take care of me.
Wearing my new leg brace, I tried to do the same things other children did. I played baseball, even though I couldn’t run very fast. My left leg kept growing, but my right leg stayed the same.
Then my father received a work opportunity in northern California. In our new town, I started fourth grade. I soon learned that Heavenly Father watches over His children. My parents took me to see Dr. Chan. He had been studying my disease and had an idea for a new surgery. If I was willing to take the risk, he was willing to experiment on me. I agreed, even though I would be in a body cast for up to six months. We had very good home teachers who gave me a wonderful blessing.
With the surgery, a medical miracle happened. My right leg began to grow. The cast was removed in just two months, and I learned to walk on my right leg for the first time in two years. I was soon walking and running again! Within 11 months, my right leg was the same length as my left.
After fifth grade, my family moved back to Colorado. I know it was no coincidence that my family moved to the only place where a doctor could help me. Heavenly Father guided my parents so I could be healed.
Because of this experience, two verses in Alma 36 have special meaning to me. I remember how the Lord healed me to do His work:
“But behold, my limbs did receive their strength again, and I stood upon my feet, and did manifest unto the people that I had been born of God.
“Yea, and from that time even until now, I have labored without ceasing, that I might bring souls unto repentance; that I might bring them to taste of the exceeding joy of which I did taste; that they might also be born of God, and be filled with the Holy Ghost” (Alma 36:23–24).
I am grateful that Heavenly Father blessed me to have the use of my right leg. He knew the things that He had in store for me to do, and He blessed me with the health to be able to do them more easily. As a Seventy, I travel and testify of the Savior, bringing the joy of the gospel to others so that they can know and feel what I know and feel.

I had great pleasure in training a well-bred colt. He had a good disposition, clean, well-rounded eye, was well proportioned, and all in all, a choice animal. Under the saddle he was as willing, responsive, and cooperative as a horse could be. He and my dog, Scotty, were real companions. I liked the way he would go up to something of which he was afraid. He had confidence that if he would do as I bade him he would not be injured.

But my horse Dandy resented restraint. He was ill-contented when tied and would nibble at the tie rope until he was free. He would not run away; he just wanted to be free. Thinking other horses felt the same, he would proceed to untie their ropes. He hated to be confined in the pasture, and if he could find a place in the fence where there was only smooth wire, he would paw the wire carefully with his feet until he could step over to freedom. More than once my neighbors were kind enough to put him back in the field. He learned even to push open the gate. Though he often did damage that was provoking and sometimes expensive, I admired his ingenuity.

But his curiosity and desire to explore the neighborhood led him and me into trouble. Once on the highway he was hit by an automobile, resulting in a demolished machine, injury to the horse, and slight, though not serious, injury to the driver. Recovering from that, and still impelled by a feeling of wanderlust, he inspected the fence throughout the entire boundary. He even found the gates wired. So for a while we thought we had Dandy secure in the pasture.

One day, however, somebody left the gate unwired. Detecting this, Dandy unlatched it, took another horse with him, and together they visited the neighbor’s field. They went to an old house used for storage. Dandy’s curiosity prompted him to push open the door. There was a sack of grain. What a find! Yes, and what a tragedy! The grain was poisoned bait for rodents! In a few minutes Dandy and the other horse were in spasmodic pain, and shortly both were dead.

I tried an obedience experiment one day when I knew I would not be distracted by deadlines. "Today," I said, "I will try to do whatever the Spirit seems to direct." I felt nudged to revisit some of my visiting teachees and tried to follow the nudges all day. I got almost nothing done on my long to-do list, but the next morning when I opened my scriptures to a passage that was usually very run of the mill, it now seemed filled with incredible, powerful spiritual light. It is clear that if we work to obey his voice, the Lord will pour down his light on us. That light will be a protection against the evils of the world, spiritually and physically, just as the divine cloud and pillar were a defense for ancient Israel. Protection promised to Zion is real.

I had always enjoyed the warmth and green of Southern California winters, but Christmas in Helsinki, Finland, was something out of a storybook. There was snow on the ground, pine trees in the park, and stars so brilliant that heaven seemed only a hand’s reach away. I could almost hear the angels singing, “Peace on earth, good will to men!”
My heart was filled with that peace as my missionary companion, Sister Pels, and I settled into our chairs at a fast-food restaurant. Our meeting had concluded at about 7:00 P.M.,and we were eager to relax for a moment over a meal before our bus arrived.
Suddenly the doors flew open and in swept about 20 people wearing costumes. One was dressed like Joseph, another like Mary, and still others like shepherds, the Wise Men, and angels with wings. They had obviously just come from a local Nativity play. Joking and laughing, they purchased their food and sat down to eat.
A few moments later another man walked into the restaurant. He was obviously not part of the first group. His hair was tousled, and he was wearing old, torn clothes. When he collected his meal, he wandered around looking for a seat. Finding one among the Nativity performers, he started to squeeze in between two of the Wise Men. As he did, he accidentally tipped his tray too far, and his soda pop fell onto the floor.
There were chuckles from the group as he backed away and found a table next to ours. He eased into the seat and just sat there, head hung, not looking at his food, not looking at much of anything but the floor. It occurred to me that this meal must have been something special for him, a rarity he could barely afford. The loss of his drink must have broken his heart. It broke my heart to look at him.
“We have to do something,” I said to Sister Pels.
“Well, they do offer free refills for spilled drinks,” Sister Pels remarked. She immediately stood up and walked over to the food counter. As she did, all Bethlehem noticed her missionary name tag. Some of the group rolled their eyes.
A few minutes later, Sister Pels handed the man a new drink as an attendant cleaned up the spill. The man stared at the drink, then turned to stare at Sister Pels and me. His eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” he said through a throat tight with emotion. “Life’s really hard right now.”
He told us he was 54 years old and had once been a sailor. He was alone now. His father had just died, and the rest of his family was gone. “Who are you?” he asked.
“We’re missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I replied. “We’re in Finland sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ and another testament of him called the Book of Mormon. Would you like a copy?”
He shook his head. “Thanks anyway.”
The conversation ended quickly when Sister Pels noticed that our bus was due to arrive. We would have to hurry to catch it. As we were leaving, we passed by the Nativity group. One of the angels glowered at us and said through clenched teeth, “The Bible is the book.” Momentarily startled, Sister Pels and I edged out the door. Behind us came the tattered and lonely stranger.
“Where are the angels going?” he asked. Puzzled, we looked back into the restaurant at the performers. But then we noticed he was looking at us. “Where are the angels going?” he asked again.
We smiled and wished him a merry Christmas, then boarded the bus. As it pulled away from the restaurant, I gazed at the stars. Heaven did indeed seem especially close.

Thirty-four gifted and inspired speakers have preceded me, and now on this autumn day I feel like the last leaf on the tree as I say a few words before President Lee gives his final counsel and blessing. It is not a new experience for me to speak immediately preceding President Lee. I have had that privilege a score of times recently. Each time I have felt like the freshman team before the varsity comes out for the big game.
But I regard this as a great opportunity to add my testimony. I humbly seek the direction of the Holy Spirit as I speak upon a sacred theme.
We have sung in this conference a marvelous hymn, a hymn we have sung in conferences for more than a century: “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” It is distinctive with us. As a people we sing some hymns that have come from other churches, and others sing some of ours. But only we can properly sing, “We thank thee, O God, for a prophet to guide us in these latter days.”
It was written more than a century ago by a man of humble circumstances who lived in Sheffield, England. He worked in the steel mills and was discharged because he joined the Mormon Church. But there burned in his heart a great and fervent testimony; and out of an overflowing spirit of gratitude, he penned these marvelous lines. They have become a grateful expression of appreciation for millions over the earth. I myself have heard them sung in 21 different languages as a reverent prayer of thanksgiving for divine revelation.
How thankful we ought to be, my brethren and sisters, how thankful we are, for a prophet to counsel us in words of divine wisdom as we walk our paths in these complex and difficult times. The solid assurance we carry in our hearts, the conviction that God will make his will known to his children through his recognized servant is the real basis of our faith and activity. We either have a prophet or we have nothing; and having a prophet, we have everything.
Twelve years ago, in company with the mission president from Hong Kong, it was my opportunity to initiate the work in the Philippines. On April 28, 1961, we held a meeting that will never be forgotten by those of us who were present. We had no hall then in which to meet. We made a request of the United States Embassy for permission to meet on the beautiful porch of the marble memorial in the American military cemetery at Fort McKinley on the outskirts of Manila. We convened at 6:30 in the morning. In that hallowed and sacred place, where are remembered the tragedies of war, we commenced the work of teaching the gospel of peace.
We called upon the only native Filipino member we had been able to locate. He recounted a story which I have never forgotten.
When he was a boy he found in a garbage can an old tattered copy of the Reader’s Digest. It contained a condensation of a book giving the story of the Mormon people. It spoke of Joseph Smith and described him as a prophet. The word prophet did something to that boy. Could there actually be a prophet upon the earth? he wondered. The magazine was lost, but concern over the presence of a living prophet never left him during the long, dark years of war and oppression when the Philippines were occupied. Finally the forces of liberation came, and with them the reopening of Clark Air Base. David Lagman found employment there. His supervisor, he learned, was a Mormon, an Air Force officer. He wanted to ask him if he believed in a prophet, but was afraid to do so. Finally, after much inner turmoil, he mustered the courage to inquire.
“Are you a Mormon, sir?” the young man asked. “Yes, I am,” was the forthright reply. “Do you believe in a prophet, do you have a prophet in your church?” came the anxious question.
“We do have a prophet, a living prophet, who presides in this church and who teaches the will of the Lord.”
David asked the officer to tell him more, and out of that teaching came his baptism. He was the first native elder ordained in the Philippines and today serves as president of the Northern Luzon District of the Church, now knowing for himself that there is indeed a living prophet on the earth.
Could any people have a greater blessing than to have standing at their head one who receives and teaches the will of God concerning them? We need not look far in the world to know that “the wisdom of the wise has perished and that the understanding of the prudent has come to naught.” That wisdom for which the world should seek is the wisdom which comes from God. The only understanding that will save the world is divine understanding.
“Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.” (Amos 3:7.)
It was so in the days of Amos and in all the years when holy men of God spake as they were moved upon by the Holy Ghost. (See 2 Pet. 1:21.) Those ancient prophets warned not only of things to come, but more importantly, they became the revealers of truth to people. It was they who pointed the way men should live if they were to be happy and find peace in their lives.
I think today of a young man I know who, as a Christian, trying one church after another, could find none that taught of a prophet. Only among the Jewish people did he find reverent mention of the prophets, and so he accepted and embraced the Jewish religion.
In the summer of 1964, he went to New York City and visited the World’s Fair. He entered the Mormon Pavilion and saw pictures of the prophets of the Old Testament. His heart warmed within him as he heard the missionaries speak with appreciation of these great men of ages past through whom Jehovah revealed his will. Then, as he progressed through the pavilion, he heard of modern prophets—of Joseph Smith who was called a prophet, a seer, and a revelator. Something stirred within him. His spirit responded to the testimony of the missionaries. He was baptized. He served a mission in South America where he had many converts. He returned home and has since become the means of bringing his family and others into the Church. It is heartwarming to hear him testify that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God and that all who have succeeded him have been legal successors in this high and sacred calling.
Could anyone, willing to read without bias the story of Joseph Smith, doubt that he was a great foreteller of events to come? Nearly thirty years before a shot was fired, he foretold the tragic American Civil War and stated that following that, war would be poured out upon all nations. You and I of this generation are witnesses to the fulfillment of those remarkable words.
He foretold that this people, then living in Illinois, would be driven out, would suffer much affliction, and would become a great and mighty people in the midst of the Rocky Mountains. Our presence today in this great Tabernacle on Temple Square in Salt Lake City is evidence of the fulfillment of those marvelous words of prophecy.
It has been so with his successors. On a cold winter day in 1849, when our forebears in this valley were hungry and living on sego roots and thistle tops, while gold was being found in California, Brigham Young stood in the old bowery on this square and spoke prophetic words to those who felt they might leave the hardships of life here to go to greener pastures in California. Among other things, he said:
“We have been kicked out of the frying pan into the fire, out of the fire into the middle of the floor, and here we are and here we will stay. …
“We shall build a city and a temple to the Most High God in this place. We will extend our settlements to the east and the west, to the north and south, and we will build towns and cities by the hundreds, and thousands of saints will gather in from the nations of the earth.
“This will become the great highway of the nations. Kings and emperors and the noble and the wise of the earth will visit us here. …”
How could anyone stand in the Visitors Center to the north of us and witness the hundreds of thousands, yes, the millions, who come each year to visit us, and have any doubt that Brigham Young spoke other than as a prophet? Over the years there has been a veritable parade of notables who have found their way to the office of the First Presidency, there to meet particularly the man whom we sustain as the president of the Church and as the prophet of our day. They include leaders in the governments of the earth, in business and commerce, in education, in the professions. These are among “the noble and the wise of the earth” of whom Brigham Young spoke when we were an outcast people, isolated in a mountain wilderness.
Two weeks ago we were riding a plane from San Francisco to Sydney, Australia. We noted a young man in a nearby seat reading the book Joseph Smith, an American Prophet. When opportunity presented itself, I spoke to him. I told him that I had read the book, that I had known the author, and asked him what his interest was. He said, among other things, that he had an interest in prophets and that this matter of a possible modern prophet had intrigued him. He had picked up the book at the library. We had a lengthy conversation in which I bore my witness that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet. Not only did he speak of things to come, but more importantly, he was a revealer of eternal truth and a testifier of the divine mission of the Lord Jesus Christ. I am hopeful that that young man, as he continues his studies, will have come into his heart a similar testimony. I feel confident that he will.
I am profoundly grateful, my brethren and sisters, not only for Joseph Smith as the prophet who served as an instrument in the hands of the Almighty in restoring this work, but also for all of those who have followed him. A study of their lives will reveal the manner in which the Lord has chosen them, has refined them, and has molded them to his eternal purposes. Joseph Smith declared on one occasion: “I am like a huge, rough stone rolling down from a high mountain; … with all hell knocking off a corner here and a corner there, and thus I will become a smooth and polished shaft in the quiver of the Almighty.”
He was hated and persecuted. He was driven and imprisoned. He was abused and beaten. And as you read his history, you see the evolution of which he spoke. There developed a power in his life. There came a refinement. There grew a love for others which even overcame his own love for life. The corners of that rough stone were knocked off, and he became a polished shaft in the hand of the Almighty.
It has been so with those who have succeeded him. Through long years of dedicated service, they have been refined and winnowed and chastened and molded for the purposes of the Almighty. Could anyone doubt this after reading the lives of such men as Brigham Young, Wilford Woodruff, and Joseph F. Smith? The Lord subdued their hearts and refined their natures to prepare them for the great and sacred responsibility later thrust upon them. It has been so with him who stands as President of the Church today, our beloved leader, President Harold B. Lee. I hope he will pardon me. I do not wish to embarrass him. But can one who knows something of his life deny the same influences at work? He came out of circumstances that would today be classed as poverty. From firsthand experience he knows the meaning of hard manual labor. He served as a missionary and was rejected by most of those upon whom he called. He sacrificed for an education. He has known serious illness when life seemed to hang by a thread. He has walked through deep and dark valleys of sorrow. Looking back upon the history of his life, it all appears to be part of a pattern, a refining process that he might better understand the trials, the afflictions, the sorrows of others. And yet, with all of this, there is a great buoyancy of spirit that rises above the tragic and the sorrowful and lifts to higher ground all of those he touches and influences.
As one who recently walked with him as a junior companion in the missions of Europe and England, I have seen young people eagerly press about him with tears in their eyes and smiles, sweet and beautiful, upon their faces. I have seen missionaries sit enraptured as he taught from the scriptures, speaking, like the Master, “as one having authority.” I have seen little children sit almost motionless as he spoke their language and led them to understand sacred truths of the sacrament. I have seen elderly men and women weep as he blessed them.
I have seen few things more touching than a strong young man embracing the President and then later with tear-moistened eyes saying, “Never have I been so near to heaven.”

“The greatest gift that you can give is when you give of yourself.” I have often heard this, but it never really affected me until one Christmas—a Christmas I will never forget.
It all started with a seminary project. We were asked to take a fruit basket to an elderly person. I had not wanted to go, but somehow I found myself at the seminary waiting for my class to arrive.
Some would call it a mere coincidence, but I saw the hand of the Lord in it when my class did not show up. Fortunately, my friend’s class was also going, and I was able to go along with them. I remember the conversations that we had on the way to the elderly man’s house:
Cindy, who was a little insecure but tried to cover up for it by talking incessantly, picked Jody out as an easy target for her taunting remarks. “Jody, who did you ask to the dance?”
Lisa understood Jody’s needs and shyness and answered quickly as Jody hesitated. “I’m taking Dave, in my history class. Jody, maybe we could double.”
Jody responded to Lisa’s sensitivity. “We really should. That sounds like a lot of fun. I’m taking Tom. I thought he played so well in the football game yesterday.”
That ended the dance conversation, but the radio kept playing and the conversation moved to another subject. No one in the car was really thinking about the old man we were going to see or what was in store. We were thinking more in terms of ourselves, and maybe that was why it came as such a shock when our car stopped in front of a worn-down house that looked deserted. There were tall weeds that had taken over the front lawn, the paint on his home was chipped, and there was a long crack in his front window.
As we got out of the car and looked around the neighborhood, we noticed that all the houses looked just the same as this man’s. The rain was pouring down, disturbing the sleeping dog that was lying in the gutter.
Not wanting to go any further, yet knowing we had better unless we wanted to drown in the rain, we proceeded to his front door. After ringing the doorbell and waiting for about two minutes, we turned around to go back to the car. Then we heard the screen door open. As we turned back to the house, we saw an elderly man clad in worn dresspants and an old sweater. He gave us a smile that without words said, “I wouldn’t even care if you had the wrong house; can we talk for a moment?”
We told him that we were from a local high school and that if he would allow us to we would like to come in and talk with him. He looked very shocked but welcomed us just the same.
As we entered the house, we were touched by a very strong spirit. His house wasn’t much—it consisted of a threadbare couch, a table, a small lamp, a chair, and one small evergreen branch that was decorated and served as his Christmas tree. You could see he didn’t have many material comforts, but we sensed he had something more; he had the Spirit of the Lord.
He invited us to sit down and chat for a few minutes. We sat down and told him we had prepared a story and a song that we would like to share with him. He said that would be just fine, and we proceeded with our program.
We told him our story and began our song. As we were singing “I Am a Child of God,” each of us felt his spirit and noticed the tears, but we continued on as best we could. As we came to the conclusion of the song, we were all in tears due to the special feeling radiating through the home.
When we stood up to leave, not wanting to but knowing we had better, the elderly man said, “This has meant so much to me. You see, last week my wife died, and we had the funeral two days ago. I have really dreaded this Christmas.”
As we gave him a final hug, he continued on with what he was saying. “You girls have brought a new light to this special occasion. I thank you, and I want you to know that you have made a lonely old man very happy.”
With tears in our eyes, we left his house very humbled and filled with the Spirit of the Lord. As we rode home in the car, there was no loud music, there was no talk of boys and dates. The car was filled with silence, but there was a joy that was felt by everyone.

Trevor’s absence from football didn’t help his skills, and didn’t help his size either. “I left at about 235 pounds, and I came back at about 207,” he said. “Most guys have their mothers greeting them at the airport saying, ‘Great to have you back, son,’ but all my mother said was ‘Oh Trevor, you look so thin.’ To be honest with you, the coaches were worried. But when I got home, I lifted a lot of weights and ate everything that was slower than me—lots of pizza and chocolate chip cookies. It helps to have a mom who has a master’s degree in nutrition.”

I was flying to Iowa a year ago and sat down by the side of a young college student who had been going to Utah State University. I asked him how he liked it and he said, “I just love it.” I asked him why, and he said it was because of the people there. I got his name and address and asked him if it would be okay for two young missionaries to come by to see him. Six months later, I got a letter from the missionaries saying that they were baptizing him, his three brothers and sisters, and his parents that week.

One day I saw my oldest son, Wilford, preparing a tithing envelope. He was probably around five years old at the time. Wilford didn’t earn any money, so I wondered why he was paying tithing. When I asked him, he told me he was actually paying a fast offering.
Wilford didn’t have much money of his own. But he was still excited to pay a fast offering.
I was impressed by this act of kindness. I asked him why he had decided to do this.
Wilford answered, “I don’t need anything. But I know others do.” He knew his money would help people. He was very happy about that.
This simple experience taught me a good lesson: children are really in tune with the Spirit and have a natural Christlike love. Wilford had something he didn’t need and knew it would be helpful to other people. He was willing to make the sacrifice.
Saving money is good. But my young son taught me another lesson through his example. By listening to the Spirit, we can bless the lives of others when we share what we have.

One of the first things I did as a member of the Church was read the Book of Mormon. Reading it helped strengthen my testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I learned that if the Book of Mormon is the word of God, then Joseph Smith is a true prophet of God and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true Church upon the earth. I shared my beliefs with my family, and a few years later my mother, brother, and sister were baptized.

The list of good men and women from whom he had the opportunity to learn goes on, but Elder Cook points out that many of them didn’t hold lofty positions at the time. They were just good people.

“We can learn from doctrine, and we can learn from good examples,” Elder Cook says. “But when you find people who have put those two together, whose lives are consistent with what they have learned in the gospel of Jesus Christ, that is a wonderful combination. And these people don’t have to be General Authorities or have some high occupation. All walks of life produce those kind of people.”

Though Elder Cook has been blessed to find good associations throughout his life, those with the greatest influence have been members of his own family.

He is grateful for a loving, involved father and a mother who “loved the Savior. They did everything they could to raise us the right way.” He appreciates the love and support of his brother, Joe, and sister, Susan.

One of the pivotal experiences of his life happened when he was 15 years old. His brother, Joe, wanted to serve a mission, but his father—a good man who had lost interest in Church activity—felt Joe should instead attend medical school. Joe and Quentin respected their father highly, so they sequestered themselves to consider his counsel.

They talked well into the night, balancing the pros and cons of each option. The bottom line, they decided, was this: If the Church is just another good institution, Joe could help people better by going to medical school. However, if the Savior truly lived, if Joseph Smith truly was a prophet, if the Church he organized under God’s direction truly is the Church of Jesus Christ, if the Book of Mormon is true, then Joe’s obligation was clear. The next morning Joe approached his father with that reasoning and bore his testimony. He left for his mission soon after, with his father’s support and his mother’s joyful blessing.

That conversation profoundly affected young Quentin. He had always had a testimony of the Savior. However, Joseph Smith, the Church, the Book of Mormon—these were another matter to a 15-year-old. He believed, but he had yet to receive a spiritual witness that confirmed their certain reality.

After he and Joe parted that night, Quentin went to his room, knelt in prayer, and asked for the same witness his brother had, a witness he desired with all his heart. And it came in a way so powerful that any doubts he had were swept away forever.

Another of the great influences in his life has been his wife, Mary. “It would be hard to find anybody in the whole world who is as good and righteous and bright as she is,” her husband says. “She has a wonderful sense of humor.”

The Cooks’ daughter, Kathryn Cook Knight, reinforces that assessment. “Dad was a perfect father,” she says. “I adore everything about him. But my mother is a saint.”

Sister Cook is very gifted musically, having taught music and filling her home with music. In fact, Elder Cook first became acquainted with Mary at a seventh-grade talent assembly. He remembers, “This little towheaded girl gets up and sings ‘On the Sunny Side of the Street.’ Even in junior high school she had a remarkably mature, deep voice. I was absolutely amazed. And that song could have been the theme for the rest of her life. She has a wonderfully bright, sunny disposition.”

During their schooling, the two had numerous opportunities to work together. In junior high he was elected student-body president, and she was elected student-body vice president. They were in debate together. And as senior-class president in high school, he worked with her as a student-body officer.

“We were friends long before we were anything else,” Elder Cook recalls. “I admired her before I fell in love with her, and marrying her was the best decision I have ever made.”

Elder and Sister Cook were married in the Logan Utah Temple on November 30, 1962.

After he graduated from Utah State University in 1963 with a degree in political science, Quentin and Mary moved to California, where he earned his Juris Doctor degree from Stanford University in 1966. Elder Cook then joined the San Francisco Bay Area law firm of Carr, McClellan, Ingersoll, Thompson and Horn.

It was there that he decided that “what I believed and who I was had to be visible.” In his work in business law and healthcare, Elder Cook associated with well-educated and affluent people. The Cooks’ son Larry remembers being touched that his father was so deeply respected among his business and civic associates. “I attended the retirement dinners honoring Dad when he left his law firm and later when he stepped down from the leadership of a health-care system,” Larry recalls. “I was in awe that colleague after colleague, none of whom were members of the Church, spoke—often with tears—about what Dad meant to them, how he had mentored and nurtured them, how he had selflessly fostered their careers without any sense that it was taking time or energy away from his own.”

At the same time, his Church service led to treasured associations with members whose cultural backgrounds were diverse and whose economic status stretched between broad extremes. Through both professional and Church experience, he developed the ability to understand and relate to people from all walks of life, and his love grew for all people.

He was called to serve as a bishop, then as a counselor in the stake presidency (to his beloved older brother, Joe!), and later as stake president. During that time he worked with not only English-speaking wards but congregations that spoke Spanish, Tongan, Samoan, Tagalog, Mandarin, and Cantonese.

Some of the members had little education and less money. But they had much to give. He remembers fondly “one of the great men I knew” who delivered bread for a living and was called into a bishopric. The man had seen ward leaders taking briefcases to their meetings, and so he decided to take one too. But since he had nothing to put in it yet, he filled it with sourdough bread to share. This humble man’s willingness to serve was surpassed only by love for others.

“Specific occupations or levels of education aren’t what I’m talking about when I say learn from good people,” Elder Cook says. “You can find good people everywhere and learn from them all.”

Mom and I live with Grandma and Grandpa now. At least for a while. Until Mom can make enough money at her new job, or until Dad gets better. Dad has a drinking problem. It got pretty bad, and he wouldn’t get help. We prayed and prayed for him, but Mom said Heavenly Father can’t help us if we don’t try to help ourselves. I know she’s right, because once I asked Him to help me on a school test that I hadn’t studied for. I failed it anyway. Mom said that if we do all we can do for ourselves, then ask Heavenly Father for help, He will then assist us.
One day my friend Barry said that if his dad were like mine, he wouldn’t love him anymore. Because if my dad cared about us, he wouldn’t keep drinking.
I couldn’t sleep too well that night. My mom came into my room and asked what was wrong. When I told her, she explained some things that helped me to feel better.
The next day when Barry and I were looking for arrowheads in Baker’s Canyon up behind the yellow field, I told him I still loved my dad. When he asked me why, I said, “Remember when your brother didn’t tie up the chain that was hanging way down from the siren on his bike?”
“Yes,” Barry said, “and I told him it could cause an accident if it got caught in the spokes, but did he listen to me? No!”
Last month Barry borrowed that bike. He was flying down a hill when, sure enough, the chain got caught in the spokes of his front wheel. All of a sudden the bike stopped, but Barry kept going, right over the handlebars. He banged himself up pretty badly. In fact, his arm was still in a cast.
“Do you still love your brother?” I asked.
“Of course I do.”
“Why?”
“Well, because … because he’s my brother. He didn’t want me to get hurt. He was just being careless.”
“I’m sure your brother feels bad about it,” I said. “My dad feels awful, too, after he sobers up.”
Barry and I sat down on a rock to drink from our canteens. Grandma’s cold lemonade tastes so good that it makes getting thirsty fun. Dad always said, “On a hot day your grandma’s lemonade takes all the discomfort out of being alive!” And he was right.
I looked at Barry seriously, trying to get the deep down inside of him to listen. I had written down some of what Mom said the night before so I wouldn’t forget. Now I read it to Barry: “‘God loves all of us, even when He doesn’t love all of our actions. It’s called charity—the pure love of Christ, and we need to try to love like Jesus does.’”
Barry nodded his head and smiled. I could tell that he knew my mom was right. Her words made me feel good inside, too. About my dad. About a lot of things. It was as good a feeling as Grandma’s lemonade going down on a hot summer day.
Mom and I kept praying for Dad. He stopped drinking, and he’s in a special program that’s helping him. He’ll be coming home in a few weeks. He says he wants to play hide-and-seek with me in the tall yellow weeds. And he wants me to win, because he misses those chocolate milk shakes as much as I do!

For Prince Henry Omondi’s family, learning to keep the Word of Wisdom did not only mean learning to live without tea, coffee, alcohol and tobacco. It also meant an extra monthly expense for the family’s already tight budget.

“We really suffered temporally after my mother’s death,” says Prince. His father had to support nine children, ranging between 16 years and two months of age, on one income. During these tough times, “I had questions in my mind and I sometimes would doubt if God loved me,” he says. But when his family met the missionaries, the teachings they shared went “deep into my heart.

“As the missionaries taught us, I felt God’s love for me and felt God had a purpose for me,” he says.

Many of his family members felt the same. Except for two of Prince’s older brothers, the entire family was baptized.

Prince says that one way to know his purpose was to keep the commandments with exactness.

“One of the commandments which was new to me was the Word of Wisdom,” he said.

“Not taking alcohol, tobacco or any harmful drugs was not an issue, but tea and coffee was a challenge. I remember my father telling the missionaries that drinking chocolate was too expensive, and we could not afford it. But the missionaries encouraged us, and my dad had the faith and courage to squeeze money to be able to buy drinking chocolate instead of tea or coffee.”

Dear brothers and sisters, it has been many decades since a general conference has been convened that President Boyd K. Packer and Elders L. Tom Perry and Richard G. Scott were not seated immediately behind the podium and speaking at one of these sessions. Our memories of them are poignant, and I add my tribute to honor them, each so uniquely different yet so harmonized in their witness and testimony of Jesus Christ and His Atonement.
Furthermore, I, like you, find strength in and sustain President Thomas S. Monson as prophet, seer, and revelator, and I marvel at his faithful and dutiful apostolic service spanning over 50 remarkable years.
And so it was on Tuesday morning of this week, just after 9:00 a.m. as the Bishopric was beginning a meeting with the Asia Area Presidency, who are here for conference, that I was called to meet with President Monson, along with his counselors. Moments later, as I walked into the boardroom adjacent to his office, I must have looked nervous sitting across the table, as he kindly spoke to calm my nerves. He commented, noting my age, that I seemed quite young and even looked younger than my age.
Then, within a few moments, President Monson described that acting on the will of the Lord, he was extending a call to the Quorum of the Twelve to me. He asked me if I would accept this call, to which, following what I am sure was a very undignified audible gasp, in complete shock, I responded affirmatively. And then, before I could even verbalize a tsunami of indescribable emotion, most of which were feelings of inadequacy, President Monson kindly reached out to me, describing how he was called many years ago as an Apostle by President David O. McKay, at which time he too felt inadequate. He calmly instructed me, “Bishop Stevenson, the Lord will qualify those whom He calls.” These soothing words of a prophet have been a source of peace, a calm in a storm of painful self-examination and tender feelings in the ensuing agonizing hours which have passed day and night since then.
I rehearsed what I have just described to you to my sweet companion, Lesa, later that day, seated in a quiet corner on Temple Square, with a serene view of the temple and the historic Tabernacle lying before us. As we tried to comprehend and process the events of the day, we found our anchor to be our faith in Jesus Christ and our knowledge of the great plan of happiness. This leads to an expression of my deepest love for Lesa. She is the sunshine in and of my life and a remarkable daughter of God. Hers is a life punctuated by selfless service and unconditional love of all. I will strive to remain worthy of the blessing of our eternal union.
I express my deepest love to our four sons and their families, three of whom are here with their beautiful wives, the mothers of our six grandchildren; the fourth, a missionary, has special permission to stay up past missionary curfew and is viewing these proceedings live with his mission president and the mission president’s wife from their mission home in Taiwan. I love each of them and love how they love the Savior and the gospel.
I express my love to each member of my family: to my dear mother and to my father, who passed away last year, who instilled in me a testimony which seemed to dwell in me from my earliest memories. I further extend this gratitude to my brother, sisters, and their faithful spouses, as well as Lesa’s family, many of whom are actually here today. I cast this net of gratitude to numerous extended family, friends, missionaries, leaders, and teachers along the way.
I have been blessed with a close association with the members of the First Presidency, the Twelve, the Seventy, and the general auxiliary presidencies. I express my love and esteem to each of you sisters and brothers and will strive to be worthy of our continued association. The Presiding Bishopric enjoys an almost heavenly unity. I will miss my association each day with Bishop Gérald Caussé, Bishop Dean M. Davies, and the staff.
I stand before you as evidence of the words of the Lord recorded in the first section of the Doctrine and Covenants: “That the fulness of [the] gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the [earth], and before kings and rulers.” These words are preceded by the Lord’s declaration which demonstrates the love of a Father for His children: “Wherefore, I the Lord, knowing the calamity which should come upon the inhabitants of the earth, called upon my servant Joseph Smith, Jun., and spake unto him from heaven, and gave him commandments.”
Our loving Heavenly Father and His Son, Jehovah, with a knowledge of the end from the beginning, opened the heavens and a new dispensation to offset the calamities that They knew would come. The Apostle Paul described the forthcoming calamities as “perilous times.” For me, this suggests that Heavenly Father’s generous compensation for living in perilous times is that we also live in the fulness of times.
As I agonized over my inadequacies this week, I received a distinct impression which both chastened and comforted me: to focus not on what I can’t do but rather on what I can do. I can testify of the plain and precious truths of the gospel.
These are the words which I have shared hundreds of times with both those who belong to the Church and many who are not members: “God is our [loving] Heavenly Father. We are His children. … He weeps with us when we suffer and rejoices when we do what is right. He wants to communicate with us, and we can communicate with Him through sincere prayer. …
“Heavenly Father has provided us, His children, with a way to … return to live in His presence. … Central to our [Heavenly] Father’s plan is Jesus Christ’s Atonement.”
Heavenly Father sent His Son to the earth to atone for the sins of all mankind. Of these plain and precious truths I bear my testimony, and I do so in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Later that summer, Nate attended a large scout camp. The final event of the camp was an obstacle course several miles long.

I was so excited to watch him run because now he was fast. I kept watching and watching, but I never saw him, and another boy won. The winner happened to be a good friend of my son. His friend was fast, but my son was really fast.

When I caught up with Nate, he said, "Sorry pops, I got so stressed before the race that I simply chose NOT to run." I told him, "It's alright. It happens."

Does this sound like any of us? Perhaps we hear about a great professor, but they are a hard grader, so we choose not to take their class. The only one that really loses is us.

My son's lack of participation was a great learning experience for both of us. We have had many discussions about that moment. We concluded to never let fear influence our decisions. You never know until you try, and if you don't try, you will never know.

Here's my boy gearing up to jump off a cliff in Africa. His mom was NOT happy. Perhaps, we had taken the fear discussion a little too far.

Billy Parker kicked aimlessly at the dusty path with his bare foot. “There’s nothing to do,” he complained. “The fish aren’t even biting today.”
“No luck?” questioned his grandfather who was sitting against an old tree stump whittling and whistling softly to himself.
Billy shook his head. “What are you doing, Grandfather?” he questioned.
“I’m making a willow whistle.”
“Would you show me how?” Billy asked, his eyes lighting up.
“Sure,” Grandfather answered. “When I was a boy I made dozens of these in all different sizes. But kids today don’t seem to make them anymore.”
“I guess they’re like me and just don’t know how, but I’d like to learn,” said Billy.
“Well, now,” said Grandfather, “all you need is a straight branch from a willow. This one came from the old tree hanging over the pool where you were fishing today. Let’s cut off a piece four inches long, making sure it’s smooth and free of leaf scars. It should be about as thick as your middle finger and a bit thinner at one end for the mouthpiece.”
“You mean I can make one right now?” asked Billy excitedly.
“Why not?” Grandfather said and winked. “The sap is running now and has softened the willow bark so it’s the best time to make a whistle.”
“Take this knife and whittle a thin, slanting slice off the thinner end and square the point off to make the mouthpiece,” Grandfather instructed.
Billy made a neat whittle and cut the point off nice and straight.
“Now,” Grandfather continued, “turn your stick over and make a notch through the bark one-half inch from the end of your stick opposite your whittle (Fig. 1).”
Then, Grandfather told Billy to make a circle cut just through the bark and about three inches from the mouthpiece end, being careful to cut no deeper than the bark. Next he showed Billy how to tap the bark gently on all sides with the knife to loosen it without cracking it (Fig. 2).
“The bark should twist off in one piece since the sap has made the inside of the bark slippery,” Grandfather explained.
Billy did as Grandfather instructed and the bark came off in a single piece.
“Fine, boy! Fine,” praised Grandfather. “Now you need a sound box.” He told Billy to lengthen the notch in his wood about an inch and deepen it to about half the thickness of the wood (Fig. 3).
“Next you need an air space to blow through,” Grandfather said. “So shave a thin, flat slice from the end of your notch to the mouthpiece end of the stick. Completely wet the stick all over and slip your bark cylinder back on. It won’t sound like a police whistle or make a loud blast either, but a willow whistle makes a soft, haunting sound like the song of a springtime bird.
“When I was a boy we tried to make them as small as we could. One time I made one only an inch long.”
Billy placed the whistle to his lips and blew, and a high, thin note sounded. He thought he had never heard anything so exciting.
“Thanks, Grandfather,” he said and ran off whistling like the Pied Piper.

Sister Anita Richardson, now 80 years old, is a devoted and faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints from the island of St. Martin in the Caribbean Sea. She joined the Church in 1989. Her story of discovering the Church is remarkable, full of faith, and a powerful example of listening to the Spirit.
Before Anita was a member, she worked at a hotel for 23 years. As a dedicated employee, she earned a month-long vacation every five years. One year she decided to dedicate her vacation to coming closer to Christ by fasting, reading her scriptures, and praying. She planned carefully, visiting her friends and family beforehand, setting up a mattress on the floor, and arranging everything she thought she would need by her bed. She was now prepared.
However, on the first morning of her dedicated time, Anita realized she had forgotten to pay her power bill. She got up early the next morning and headed to the bus stop to take care of it. As she was about to board the bus, she suddenly heard a voice say, “Don’t get on the bus.”
Startled, she turned around but saw no one. She heard the voice again, “Don’t get on this bus.” The bus driver, impatient, asked if she was getting on. Still unsure why, she decided not to.
Then the voice prompted her to walk to a nearby store. This was even more confusing because she had not intended to buy anything and had not brought any money with her. She stood outside, waiting and wondering why she had been brought there. She began to argue with herself, questioning if she was imagining things. Then the voice spoke again, directing her to cross the street.
Feeling bewildered but obedient, Anita crossed the street. She noticed a store owner opening his shop, who invited her in, saying, “I have nice new things.” Anita declined and continued walking. Standing on the other side of the street, she noticed two young men with backpacks. The voice prompted her to go over and talk to them. At first, Anita resisted. Approaching strangers wasn’t something she was comfortable with, and she didn’t feel she had anything to say. But the prompting intensified, and summoning her courage, she approached them and said, “Good morning. What is your mission, and what are you doing?”
The young men introduced themselves as missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. At first, Anita was wary. At the time, there were concerns in the Caribbean about cults, and Anita wondered if these young men might be part of something similar. She rudely snatched a book one of the missionaries held, the Book of Mormon. As she flipped through its pages, she grew more agitated.
“Who is this Lehi?” she said. “We don’t have those names in the Bible.” As she read more, Anita’s suspicion grew. She declared the book a “copycat” and criticized it openly. While arguing, she heard a voice telling her to “Slow down. Slow down.” On the cover she saw the words “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.” Could this really be a second witness of Christ? She recalled scriptures about God revealing His word through multiple witnesses and remembered stories of ancient records hidden for future generations. Her heart softened as she began to wonder if this book was part of God’s plan to teach His children. Slowly, her heart began to soften. She asked the missionaries, “Will you sell me this book?”
The missionaries smiled and said, “We don’t sell it, but we’d love to study it with you.”
She read the Book of Mormon, and over the next few weeks, Anita met with the missionaries regularly. “I knew Heavenly Father wanted to teach me something,” said Anita. “It was really something. I read it so fast. I met with the missionaries once or twice a week because it was so interesting.” The missionaries patiently answered her questions using the Book of Mormon, and for the first time, Anita felt satisfied. She realized that this book contained truths she had been seeking for years.
It didn’t take her long to decide to be baptized. “The missionaries told me to ask the Lord,” she recalls. She told them, “I don’t need to ask the Lord; it’s clear to me.”
Looking back on her journey, Anita recognized how the Spirit guided her every step of the way, from the moment she was told not to board the bus to her first encounter with the missionaries. Her faith has blessed her life and the lives of those around her. She continues to serve and inspire others, always ready to share her testimony of how God led her to the truth.

“I was with President Harold B. Lee in the hospital at the time of his sudden death. President Marion G. Romney, a counselor in the First Presidency, and President Spencer W. Kimball, of the Quorum of the Twelve, arrived and waited while the doctors did what they could. When it was announced that President Lee had died, President Romney turned to President Kimball and said, ‘President Kimball, what would you like me to do?’ In that moment—simply and without any doubts or questions—the leadership of the Church quietly changed hands in that hospital waiting room. It was a moment I shall never forget.”

"The name Poelman is a Dutch name," Elder Poelman explained. "My paternal grandfather was born in Holland, and as a young man in his teens, he left Holland and went to South Africa. There he married my grandmother, a Scottish girl. She was working at the time as a governess for an English family living in South Africa. My grandparents had one child born in South Africa, then they went back to the British Isles. Another child was born in England, and then they moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where my father was born. It was to their home in Scotland that the missionaries came tracting, and my grandmother answered the door. They were on the third floor of a cold-water flat in the working-class section, and a man named A. Z. Richards was one of the missionaries. He stayed close to our family until he died, and I have always been very fond of him.
“Subsequently, I was called to serve as a missionary in Holland, as were all three of my younger brothers. My father also served a mission in Holland. That missionary experience was a valuable one for me, because I had an opportunity to meet some of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters, and I was able to learn the language.”
I asked Elder Poelman what message he wanted to share with the children of the world, and he replied, “Your Father in heaven knows who you are and loves you unconditionally. Even when you do things that are bad, He loves you. It makes Him sad, of course, but it doesn’t mean that He stops loving you. I would encourage you to pray to our Heavenly Father often, knowing that no matter what you’ve done or how you feel about yourself, Heavenly Father will listen to you.
“Sometimes we may think that the Lord loves us only if we keep His commandments and that if we disobey His commandments, He loves us less. That isn’t true! This is something Satan would like us to believe because then we feel estranged from our Father in heaven. Remember, He loves you all the time wherever you are and whatever you are doing.”

The third thought that needs thinking is this: If you do not respond properly to a challenge, maybe no one will. My mind flashes back to Granite High School and a young lady there who had a number of problems. Economically speaking, she was very poor. She could not dress like the other students, and she was insecure and frightened. But there was a young man who knew her and who would say, “Hi, how ya doin’?” One day they were to take a test in history, and he said to her, “Let’s sit down and study together.” They did, and she could tell that she had value—not romantic value, but value as a fellow human being.

The weeks came and went, and then one day she confessed to that young man that he had saved her life. “What do you mean, I’ve saved your life?” he asked. “Do you remember the day we had that history test?” “Yes.” “I was going to take my life that day. I knew no one cared, that no one loved me. People made fun of the way I dressed and the things I said and the way I looked. But you cared, and because of that I’m still alive.”

Incidentally, I saw that woman several years ago. She is a nurse now in Salt Lake City and is doing well, ministering to the needs of others. She is alive because someone who sat in class with her cared. Brothers and sisters, there are people that need you.