Gospel Story Finder

Ever since I was young, I knew I wanted to serve a mission. And when I opened my mission call, I felt the Spirit stronger than I ever had before.
During the time I was preparing to receive my mission call, I had the opportunity to attend a devotional where Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles spoke to a group of youth and young single adults. I had no idea that he’d be coming, and when I saw him, I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. He said he wanted to have a question-and-answer session. And when he asked for questions, I jumped at the opportunity.
“What is the most important thing I can do to prepare to be an effective missionary?” I asked.
He looked right at me and said, “Get over yourself.” At first I was taken aback. I had to think twice to make sure I hadn’t said something wrong, thinking maybe I was being scolded a little.
But then he explained that serving a mission is not about me; instead, it’s about serving the Lord and completely losing myself in that service. This advice completely changed my missionary preparation and my outlook on missionary service.
For future missionaries, including me, it can be easy to become prideful and say, “I can’t wait to baptize lots of people.” But this isn’t a good mind-set to have. Instead, it would be better to say, “I can’t wait to serve the Lord. I will do what He wants me to do because I’m serving Him and He is giving me a chance to participate in His work.” It’s all about getting over yourself and serving others.
Since Elder Bednar gave me that advice, I’ve thought about it every day. If I’m ever tempted to not read my scriptures because I’m too tired, I imagine Elder Bednar saying, “Get over yourself.” While it would be nice to get some extra sleep, studying the scriptures is something that Heavenly Father wants me to do every day. Besides, it’s not about me; it’s about serving Him.
I’ve also started putting more effort into my scripture study since I received this advice. My goal is to not just read them, but also to understand them so I’ll be more prepared for my mission. Now when I read my scriptures, I take out my journal and write down a question. As I read, I look for answers to that question and write those answers down. One time I wrote down the question, “What are the traits of an effective missionary?” As I studied the scriptures, I learned about traits I can develop as I prepare for my mission.
I can’t wait to serve a mission. I’m excited to lose myself in missionary service as an instrument in God’s hands. It’s a chance to just focus on the Lord and His people. It’s not about me. It’s about doing all of the small and simple things the Lord wants me to do.

One other early claim to the presidency came from James J. Strang. A convert of just four months, Strang claimed that Joseph Smith himself, a few weeks before his death, had ordained Strang to become the next president of the Church. Strang possessed a letter, allegedly written by the Prophet, supporting his claim, but the Twelve pronounced the letter a forgery, and historical investigations since that time have confirmed this opinion. Nevertheless, Strang continued in his claim and gathered a small group of followers to his settlement on Beaver Island, in Lake Michigan, where he pronounced himself a king. He ruled the colony until he was killed by one of his own people in 1856. Elder Lyman Wight also led away a group of members into Texas in a direct challenge to Brigham Young’s counsel.

My high school graduation was from a small Methodist boarding school in Thomasville, Georgia. I had enjoyed school very much and was hoping to continue my education at Berry College in Rome, Georgia. However, I was facing an uphill struggle to obtain the necessary funds for tuition, books, housing, and other expenses. My parents and family were not in a position to help me, and I made only a limited amount as a waitress during the summer. It was at this time that I received a surprising letter from the Women’s Division of Christian Service of the Methodist church. They offered to put me through college if I would fulfill a two-year mission for them as a teacher after graduation. I was deeply touched and astonished by their offer and wanted very much to accept. A few months earlier this would have seemed like an answer to my prayers, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I thought of every reason why I should accept the offer. My future would be secure, my dreams of a master’s degree in art would be realized, and I could devote my time to studying without having to worry about working. Was there really a difference in serving a mission for the Methodist church instead of the Mormon church? Weren’t they both Christian churches? My friends and teachers were encouraging me to take the offer. Their concern for my future was genuine, and I appreciated their love—I didn’t want to disappoint them. My personal desire to say yes to the Methodist church was strengthened by my fear of facing my friends if I did not.
“How could I turn down this offer?” I asked myself. But a still small voice, much quieter than the voices around me, whispered, “How can you accept it? How can you live a lie?” I realized then that if I accepted I would have to keep secret the fact that it was not the Methodist church I desired to serve. I could not use their support to achieve my goals. They were such wonderful people, so generous in their nature. The voice was right. How could I? I could not. My decision was made, and I had to find the strength to face it no matter how unrealistic it seemed to my friends. I wrote the council and explained that I was a Mormon, and though their offer was something I would never forget, I could not accept it. They answered my letter, expressing appreciation for my honesty with them, and wished me luck in my future endeavors.
Since then, through a lot of hard work and help from many people, I have graduated from Brigham Young University with the art degree I so much wanted. I was privileged to enjoy several teaching assistantships there plus the companionship of some of the greatest people I’ve ever known. When faced with similar decisions since then, I’ve reflected back on this experience of standing against the advice of friends and loved ones and listening instead to the whispering of one small voice that only I could hear. I have learned that no matter how great the problems and pressures or how difficult the decisions, Heavenly Father is always there to guide us.

Some young women in Kansas received a lesson on modesty and its relationship to covenants and keeping them. They thought about what they could do. They remembered that the parents of the Ammonite 2,000 stripling warriors had repented of their warlike ways and covenanted with the Lord. They had buried their swords and weapons of war in connection with their covenant. These young women decided that they would go to their closets and take out any immodest clothing. They didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else being immodest, so they took their clothes out to the yard and buried them! Their outward actions reflected their inward desires. They desired to be covenant keepers.

Five Beehive girls had a surprise introduction into the Young Women program in the Twin Falls 11th Ward, Kimberly Idaho Stake.

The girls of the ward were worried that five of their friends were only partially active, so they planned a surprise breakfast.

But instead of inviting their friends, they decided (with the permission of the girls’ parents) to “kidnap” them. Each of the five girls was pulled out of bed and taken to their leader’s house for a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. While waiting for breakfast to cook, the girls played games. They vowed that this was one morning they would remember.

Eric was different from the other children and he knew it. But he wasn’t sure whether he liked being different. He often thought about it when he woke up early in the morning and had to stay in bed and be quiet so he wouldn’t wake up his brothers. Sometimes he would turn on his lamp and read. Other times he would lie in the dark and listen to the cars and trucks whizzing by on the highway or to the roosters crowing. Then he would think about how far away the cars and the rooster were and why he could hear them so well in the morning, when he never even noticed them in the daytime while he played.
Sometimes Eric would think about his curly red hair and how the other children called him “Red, Red, the Fire Head” and how he had to share a room with his three brothers instead of having a room all by himself like his friend Andy Rogers. Those were times he didn’t like being different.
It wasn’t just his red hair and waking up early that made Eric different. And it wasn’t just having seven brothers and sisters when his friends had only one or two.
Eric was the only one in his school class who went to Primary and the only one in his neighborhood who couldn’t play boisterous games on Sunday.
Mostly, Eric decided, it wasn’t much fun to be different, but lately he was thinking about something else. In two weeks it would be his birthday and he’d be eight years old. Sometimes when he’d wake up in the mornings, he’d think about being baptized. He tried to imagine how it would be when he put on the white clothes and walked down the steps into the water. He could picture his dad standing in the water waiting for him and holding out his hand for Eric to take. This thought made Eric feel good.
One day on the way home from school Eric talked to Andy about being baptized. “Are you going to be baptized when you’re eight?” he asked his friend.
“I don’t think so,” Andy replied. “I don’t know much about those things.” Eric thought, I am different again!
Then Andy asked, “Will you be baptized when you’re eight?”
Eric looked at Andy for a moment and decided, Andy won’t tease me if I tell him about it because he’s a good friend. “Yes, I will,” Eric answered. “In two weeks it will be my eighth birthday. And that’s old enough to be baptized. I can hardly wait.”
Then an exciting idea came to Eric. “Andy,” he asked, “would you like to come to my baptism. My dad’s going to baptize me. I get to wear all white clothes and sit on the front row with my dad. You could come and bring your dad, too, if you’d like.”
When Eric’s baptism date finally came, his whole family went with him. Andy and Andy’s dad, Mr. Rogers, were there too.
Before the baptism all the people participated in a brief service. First there was a song and then a talk about Jesus being baptized and about the importance of following Him.
Jesus was different too, Eric realized. It was a very comforting thought.
When it was time to be baptized, everything happened just like Eric had imagined. But now he could really feel Dad’s strong hand reach out for his. He could feel the cool water pushing softly against his waist. For a few minutes Eric didn’t think of anything at all except the sound of his dad’s voice and the warmth of his dad’s hand and the cool water all around him.
After the baptism and after he and Dad had changed clothes, Eric shook hands with everyone and his mother gave him a tight hug. Then Eric and his dad walked to the back of the room to see Andy and Mr. Rogers, who were both looking pleased. Dad shook hands with Mr. Rogers and said, “Thanks for coming, Frank.”
Mr. Rogers waited a moment before he answered. “It was my pleasure,” he said. “It was a lot different than I expected. I’m glad we were here to see it.”
Then he turned to Eric and shook his hand. And Eric knew that something very important had happened not only to him but to Andy and his father too. And then Eric knew that in some ways it was good to be different.

The Robinsons, a Mormon family, had just moved into a small non-Mormon community. Rumors were flying as the eyebrows went up and the tongues wagged. Even the young people were speculating, and one stated, “They don’t smoke or drink; in fact, they don’t do anything normal people do!”

By the time the curtains closed at the end of the original musical production “An Example of Love,” written and produced by the Bountiful Utah Stake Young Men and Young Women, most of the attitudes in the fictional community were changed and two people were baptized. The audience thundered its approval.

The show was developed around President McKay’s statement “Every member a missionary” and was based on the scripture “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Pet. 2:9). The story depicted a Mormon family who moved into an area where little was known of the life-style of Church members. The reaction of the neighbors was amusing as they learned about food storage containers that doubled as furniture, about a son away on a mission (they suspected he was a spy), and about eight children in the family.

An example I often use in my Eternal Family class is of a husband who observed his wife turning back and forth in front of a mirror. Since her birthday was not far off, he asked what she would like for her birthday. Still looking in the mirror, she replied, “I’d like to be six again.”

Well, on the morning of her birthday, he rose early, made her a big bowl of Lucky Charms, and then took her to a Six Flags theme park. After five hours enjoying every ride, he took her to McDonald’s, where he ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a chocolate shake. Then it was off to the movies, with popcorn, soda, and candy. They finally wobbled home, and with a big smile he asked, “Well, dear, what was it like being six again?”

Her eyes slowly opened, and her expression suddenly changed: “I meant my dress size.”

The apocryphal Buddhist story (also attribute, to Plato, Socrates, and de Vinci, among others) of a master and a would-be pupil illustrates the student's role in this process:

A young man of considerable means came to a sage and indicated that he wanted to study under the master and would pay any price for the chance. The sage sent the young man away with the comment, "You are not sincere in your desire." Upset at the reply, the young man returned day after day determined to indicate his eagerness. Rebuffed each time by the sage he finally came one day visibly angry that the master seemed to have such little regard for his request. The master laid down his work and told the young man, "Follow me." He led him down to the ocean and walked with the young man out into the waves. The master then turned to face the young man who eagerly awaited the wisdom the old man would impart. The pupil was instead surprised when the old sage grabbed him by the back of the neck and thrust his head under the water. Unable to breath, and young man flailed wildly until unconsciousness began to close in around him and his only thought was of air. Just then, he was yanked from the water by the old master. Gasping for air, the student pleaded with the sage, "What have I done to deserve this?" The master's reply to the boy rings as true today as it did then: "When you want to learn as badly as you wanted that breath of air, then I can teach you."

Young people from the Italy Rome Mission met recently at a seaside resort for their third annual youth conference.
More than 180 young Latter-day Saints and investigators enjoyed roadshows, talent presentations, wearing native costumes, dancing, instruction in arts and crafts, beach activities, and inspirational testimonies at Santa Savera in the ancient Etruscan area. When they rented the building where they held their conference sessions, the youths made it known to the owners that they were LDS, and they explained their standards of conduct and dress. They also requested that none of the employees of the establishment use tobacco or alcohol during the conference. The staff was impressed with the group and even went so far as to furnish a live orchestra that also adhered to the requests of the young people.
Mission president Ralph A. Barnes commented that “there was a feeling of love and unity among our young people that we have never felt before. The testimony meeting that was held deeply moved both members and investigators alike.”
Commented Giampiero Levanti, “I had never before been to a youth conference. I was baptized only a year and a half ago. For me this has been a discovery of friendship, brotherhood, and love.”
Antonio Nicotra found that the experience encouraged him and others to strengthen their faith and testimonies. “At the conference it seemed as if all the Mormons were separated from the rest of the world.”
“The conference will help me in helping others to understand the Church,” said Anna Peroncini, “because I have many friends who are not members.”
At the final banquet the young people at one table stood reverently and began singing “God Be with You Till We Meet Again.” Soon those at each table rose to their feet and joined in singing—many already had thoughts of next year’s conference.

“You won’t understand everything the first time, but always go back to the temple and keep learning more throughout your life.”
My bishop gave me this advice right before I received my endowment, and he was right! I’ll never forget the Spirit and the love I felt in the temple, but afterward, I quickly forgot a lot of it, and I wasn’t sure how to apply everything I had learned.
Which just made me want to keep going back to learn more.
Elder Robert D. Hales (1932–2017) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Temples are the greatest university of learning known to man.”1
But how can we learn in the temple?
We all learn differently, so as we seek revelation, the Holy Ghost can teach us individually and make the temple a “house of learning” for each of us (Doctrine and Covenants 109:8).
Here are a few experiences that have shown me how personalized learning in the Lord’s house can be.
Temple preparation isn’t just a class we take before receiving our endowment. We can always prepare ourselves to learn before each visit.
Heavenly Father wants us to learn and to seek answers. We can pray for help, we can search the scriptures, and we can even fast or do family history work prior to our temple visit to better open our hearts to the knowledge that can be found there. President Russell M. Nelson said: “One may … read in the Old Testament and the books of Moses and Abraham in the Pearl of Great Price. Such a review of ancient scripture is even more enlightening after one is familiar with the temple endowment.”2
Before every temple visit, I try to have a question in mind about the gospel, about my life, or about the ordinances, and I ask Heavenly Father to help me recognize the voice of the Spirit to understand what He wants to teach me. Preparing beforehand always helps me invite a spirit of learning in the temple. And when we let go of the things of the world within the temple and seek to hear Him, we can open our hearts to the Spirit and learn in whatever ways He wants to teach us.
When I was getting married, I felt anxious. My family still chuckles at how I tapped my fingers on my knee (a nervous tick of mine) as the temple sealer spoke to us. I wasn’t afraid to marry my husband—I loved him! But I was worried about the future because I was making such an important covenant. I silently prayed when I entered the temple to know what I could do to keep our marriage strong in a world that was growing increasingly turbulent.
A few moments later, the temple sealer told my husband and me to remember that every ordinance in the temple points us to Jesus Christ. The Spirit helped me recognize this message as an answer from Heavenly Father, and the temple sealer’s words deepened my testimony that as my husband and I consistently turned to the Savior, especially through temple work, we could strengthen our marriage through eternity.
This experience reminded me that Heavenly Father cares about the questions in our hearts and can provide comforting wisdom to us in the temple in personal ways. As President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) taught: “When I have been weighed down by a problem or a difficulty, I have gone to the House of the Lord with a prayer in my heart for answers. These answers have come in clear and unmistakable ways.”3
During one temple visit in a particularly busy time in my life, my mind was elsewhere, and I was in a hurry to do the ordinances and be on my way. But a kind temple worker quietly suggested that when we slow down and consider the sacred work we are doing, we can feel the profound Spirit that resides only in the Lord’s house. I believe that temple worker was prompted to help me understand a truth. And I was reminded of how we can receive knowledge from so many different sources in the temple. I have received revelation in the temple by silently praying, searching the scriptures in waiting areas, meditating on the words of the ordinances, and, yes, even talking with inspired temple workers.
As we learn in the temple, we might receive an increased understanding of ordinances and covenants, a deepened testimony, promptings, feelings of comfort, and more. Heavenly Father wants us to have personal learning experiences in the temple and to be open to the many ways we can receive knowledge in His house.
I still have so much to learn about temple ordinances and the power that comes from keeping my covenants. But I’m so grateful that I can continue to keep learning throughout my life.
As we prioritize our time in the temple and set aside moments to reflect on our covenants, we will open the door to knowledge that can help us stay on the path to Christ. That has been true for me as I have returned again and again to learn in the Lord’s way in His holy house.

When I was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes, it was very hard for me. I had to prick my finger every two hours and get a lot of shots from my mom every day. Sometimes it hurt.
Then last year my mom and I decided to start looking for the good side of having diabetes. First, I have made new friends who also have diabetes. They help me a lot. I can help others who have diabetes by babysitting for their families or by talking and listening.
My brothers have also been blessed by learning to have patience and to be loving when I don’t feel well. The school nurse is my friend, and I’ve been blessed with Primary teachers who understand and help me. In our family we hug and support each other more.
The blessings of diabetes are all around me. I am thankful that my parents teach me to seek and find these special blessings. I know my Heavenly Father always blesses me and always will.Heidi Millett, age 8, and her mom, Queen Creek, Arizona

Many years ago I was teaching released-time seminary. Life was good. I was married to a wonderful woman. We had been blessed with four small children. I was blessed to study and teach from the scriptures every day.

I came home from school one day to discover we were expecting child number five. There was good news and bad news. The good news was the blessing of another child. The bad news was that my wife got extremely ill during pregnancies. I knew it was going to be a rough road ahead. It seemed that everything that could go wrong did go wrong during the first three months of Debbie’s pregnancy. This included the following:

1. Debbie was sick with morning sickness. She was in bed for more than four weeks and couldn’t even sit up.
2. I had taken a leave of absence from teaching seminary to get my doctoral degree. I was back in graduate school carrying fifteen credit hours.
3. I was attempting to fill the role of mother while Debbie was ill. This included cleaning the house, doing laundry, fixing meals, tending kids, running errands, fulfilling nursemaid duties, and so on.
4. The dishwasher broke. I had no money to repair it. Dishes were done by hand.
5. Jana got an ear infection. She couldn’t hear me. I had to take her to the doctor.
6. I had to “farm out” the two youngest girls—ages two and four—during the day for different ward members to tend.
7. Because of all of the turmoil, I was up five to six times each night helping Debbie and consoling the children.
8. Jeremy, then age six, was throwing rocks at an icicle on the front of the house and broke the large picture window in the living room.
9. Jeremy also was chasing Jana and bumped a shelf of figurines. They crashed to the floor. My wife asked, “What was that?” I said, “Oh, nothing, dear.” The pile of pieces remained in a box for weeks awaiting the day when I would have time to glue them back together—which never happened.
10. Julie, age two, became ill. I took her to the doctor.
11. I had to take Debbie to the hospital several times for intravenous hydration. With all the vomiting, she got dehydrated regularly.
12. I was always at least 500 pages behind in my reading.
13. I was supposed to be doing a literature search for my dissertation.
14. I was serving as elders quorum president. Many hours of service were required.
15. Other things happened. A wind came up and blew the screen door right off the front of our house. It was lying out in the driveway.
16. I was in an education class in which I had to practice giving individualized intelligence tests. I tested most of the kids in the neighborhood. I began to doubt my own intelligence.
17. The straw that broke the camel’s back, I think, was that our scruffy little mongrel dog named Fluffy began her breeding cycle. We had no fence. It seemed as if we had male dog visitors from everywhere, all enamored with Fluffy.

I was at an all-time low. When you are at the bottom, there is no more bottom. I was drowning, being pulled down by an overwhelming whirlpool of duties that I couldn’t keep up with. And in the process I hadn’t opened a book of scripture in more than four weeks. Prior to all of this I had committed to teach an adult evening class on the Book of Mormon. It was too much. I felt I couldn’t do it, but I was committed.

So the night before the class was to begin, I found myself preparing during the only quiet time available: between midnight and 2 a.m. After about an hour of study I suddenly stopped. Something was different—very different. It took a few moments for me to realize what was happening. Then it came to me like a revelation from heaven. For the first time in four weeks I wasn’t depressed. It was also the first time in four weeks that I had immersed myself in scripture study. Because of the tailspin of life I had found myself in, I felt I had no time to study the scriptures. I was barely surviving day to day. I felt it was impossible to allot any time for scripture study.

I submit to you that the following words of President Spencer W. Kimball are true:

There are blessings that come from immersing ourselves in the scriptures. The distance narrows between ourselves and our Father in Heaven. Our spirituality shines brighter. We love more intensely those whom we should love. It is much easier to follow counsel. The lessons of life are learned more readily and surely. [“Men of Example,” address to religious educators, Temple Square Assembly Hall, 12 September 1975, 2; included in Charge to Religious Educators, 3d ed. (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1994), 23]

I witnessed the blessing of immersing myself in the scriptures. I testify that the light from the Book of Mormon helped chase darkness from me. I acknowledge that scripture study alone cannot resolve all despair and depression, but I do know that when I was finally compelled “to act” and “not to be acted upon” (see 2 Nephi 2:26), it was the keystone—the Book of Mormon—that led me back to the Cornerstone, Jesus Christ (see Ephesians 2:20).

On the island of Sardinia, Antonio Mura turned the missionaries away twice, refusing to come to the door. The third time the missionaries came, they told the person who answered the door that there was a man in the house who needed to hear the message they brought. They knew this, they said, because the Spirit of the Lord had guided them to his door three times. Antonio Mura finally listened to the gospel—and found “it was like a window opening on a beautiful landscape I hadn’t known was there.” He “devoured” the Book of Mormon, he recalls. Since his baptism in 1973, he has served in a number of leadership positions including district president.

My parents experienced a similar “nevertheless” situation in 1975 when Zion’s Securities, HRI’s predecessor organization, decided to grant long-term leases on property in Laie to senior faculty members to build homes. There were several requirements, one of which was that construction had to begin within the year. My parents had $3,000 in the bank, no credit, no collateral, and no construction experience. Many in the community counseled them not to try to build a home. One seasoned contractor even told my parents that they should give up the lot to someone else who had the money and knowledge to build a home. Faced with valid and daunting reasons why it made no sense to embark on this house building project, they were fortified by a very powerful feeling that building a home would be a great blessing to our family, now and in the future, and not just because of the financial security it would provide.

So despite those valid objections, they shouted “nevertheless” and moved forward. They borrowed enough money from family members to get the walls and roof up and financed the remaining work with a series of home improvement loans. They gratefully accepted the help of over one hundred members of the community who volunteered their time to assist in the construction. Soon, the home was finished, and we celebrated with a large lu‘au.

My mom wrote 100 thank you notes. The April Fool’s Edition of the Ke Alaka‘i jokingly awarded our house the “Carthage Jail Memorial award for the most historically remarkable contribution to community architecture.” After my dad retired from BYU–Hawaii, we purchased the house and now live in the home that faith built. I can testify that our house has been and will continue to be a great blessing to all our family, for within its walls, we found faith, testimony, love, acceptance, and peace.

One husband was invited to reflection and experienced a major wake-up call when he listened to a portion of an audiotape recording of my therapy session with his wife. She had offered the tape to him because in the session she was able to articulate some of her core beliefs: The belief that he did not see her as equal to him. The belief that nothing she had contributed to their marriage had made a difference to him.

He telephoned me in deep grief—a deep grief born of a deeper understanding of his wife’s pain.

“I never knew,” he said. “I never knew I caused her this much pain.”

His voice is a voice of authority in her life. His words can heal her pain or induce more pain.

What does one pray for when your eternal sweetheart is at the gate of Heaven? I must confess my initial prayers as my Darla went into cardiac arrest were for her to live. But, as my son offered a priesthood blessing and was unable to pronounce life, I knew the will of God. So my prayers turned to understanding the will of the Father and what he would have me learn and do. On the very last night before Darla left this mortality, I sensed her proximity to her mortal exit, and asked my children to have the night alone with my wife. Although she was unconscious, I read her a collection of scriptures. I told her what lessons I learned and bore witness of her next journey. I expressed my eternal love. I held her non-responsive hand and offered a prayer to our Eternal Father. As I was praying I had an interesting feeling come over me. It was as if the Spirit was prompting me to ask whatever I desired, and it would be granted. As I pondered this feeling briefly, I responded by saying, Father, if it be thy will, please take my sweetheart to her eternal state. I then laid my hands on her head and offered the last mortal priesthood blessing she would have.

Often for us to understand the will of the Father, it requires us to go beyond our mortal desires and short-sightedness. We must as Paul taught see the things that are not seen. I know the love Darla and I share is not limited to the boundaries of mortality, but expands to the eternities. I have been blessed by countless tender mercies to know she is my eternal companion, and though we are separated by a veil, we walk together in spirit. I know she is performing a heavenly work that required her to go beyond my understanding, but my faith relieves all doubts. The scales of my mortal eyes have fallen. I have obtained a peace. It is the unusual peace described by the Savior, Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid (John 14:27). With eyes now opened by the Lord, my troubled heart was healed, and I was not afraid of the future. I could also declare, "Whereas I was blind, now I see."

In Boise, Idaho, several years ago I taught seminary. Our class decided to sub for Santa. We had one of the girls in the class prepare a quart bottle and a sign that would remind the class members to contribute. Then they selected a family, semi-active, who lived in the stake. This family had eight children. They weren’t doing very well financially; in fact, we were quite certain that they would not have much of a Christmas without us. We assigned each class member to bring suits, shirts, skirts, and blouses that they had outgrown but were still very nice. We invited them to bring toys and other gifts they would like to share. Our goal was to raise $75.00 to buy new toys for the children and food for Christmas dinner. Everything went fine until a week before school let out for the holidays. We had raised $65.00 and had it in a jar in our seminary cupboard at the ward. We met each morning for seminary at 7:00 A.M.

A week before school let out we went in one morning to get the quart jar and put it on the table, but it was not there. Someone had stolen it. These wonderful young students could not believe that anyone would steal it. I said to the class leader, “President, what are you going to do now?” He said, “We will start all over again and raise the money.” Then I saw a miracle take place. These choice young people who had been going without lunch once or twice a week to raise the first money now decided to go without lunch every day. They worked to earn money that last week, and by the Friday when school let out for the holidays, we had raised $73.00.

Arrangements were made by the class to meet Christmas Eve at 3:00 P.M. We were going to wrap all the clothes and toys and put name tags on everything. While some of us were doing that, several others went out in the nearby neighborhood and asked neighbors to contribute a can or bottle of food for a food basket. And the president of the class took his vice-president and secretary and bought a turkey and toys for the whole family. They drove across town to save 10¢ or 15¢ on an item so that every penny would be used to its maximum purchasing power. These things were wrapped. The turkey was placed in one of several food boxes, and then a panel delivery truck was loaded with the Christmas packages. One of the students had volunteered her father to be Santa Claus. He was with us. We drove over to the area where the needy family lived and then down a long, dark, dirt road to their home near the Boise River. When we got close to the home, we could see a woman and two children standing on the back porch. The porch light was on. The dog began to bark. We had three cars of seminary students, and all the car lights were off so no one could see us. The woman held her hands up to shade her eyes from the porch light and peered out into the darkness. I could see she was becoming concerned over the unseen visitors. I was in the first car, and I yelled across the lawn to the woman, “Don’t be afraid! It’s old Santa Claus who has come to see your family!” Santa Claus jumped out of the car and headed across the lawn. His bells were ringing, and he was saying, “Ho, ho, ho!” One of the little boys, about five years old, was standing by his mother and said, “It’s him! It’s really him! It’s old Santa Claus!”

Santa Claus went right in the house and into the living room. He later reported that the whole family was there. They had a scrawny little tree with a few decorations on it, half a box of oranges under the tree, and nothing more. They would not have had a Christmas had it not been for the seminary class. While Santa was inside, we began to unload all of the gifts onto the back porch. We each took two or three arm loads. One of the younger children could hear us out back, and he came out and watched us load the large, screened-in back porch with gifts. He signaled his brothers and sisters, and soon Santa Claus was all alone with the mother and father. The children were lined up watching us unload gifts and food boxes.

We went back to the car and waited for Santa Claus. When he came we drove in silence back to the chapel. When we arrived we stood on the church lawn and talked about the experience. The class president said, “When that little kid stood on the back porch and said, ‘It’s him! It’s really him! It’s old Santa Claus!’ I had a feeling I’ve never had before in my life.” The tears came to his eyes and he couldn’t say anymore. We all felt the same way. We stood together, offered a prayer, and then we went home. Many of our students had learned for the first time what it really means to give.

Were they blessed for giving? Of course they were. But what about the family who received? Were they blessed for their attitude of gratitude at being on the receiving end? Indeed they were, not only by the gifts of toys and food but also by a sweet Heavenly Father who would bless them for not offending those who gave. You see, the father of the family could have let false pride or lack of gratitude spoil the experience for the givers. He did not. He and his wife and the children accepted it with such childlike excitement and uncontained joy that it was a joyous experience for all.

I think often of another boy. We met him at a seminary graduation in a remote city in Argentina. He was well clothed and well nourished.

The students came down the aisle up to the stand. There were three rather high steps. He could not make the first step because his legs were too short. He was a dwarf.

It was then we noticed marching behind him two stalwart young men who stepped forward, one on either side, and lifted him gracefully to the podium. When the service was over, they lifted him down again and then marched out with him. They were his friends and watched over him. This boy could not reach the first step without being lifted up by his friends.

When I was growing up, every year or so my stake would hold a “roadshow”—a night of laughter and fun as each ward performed an unashamedly amateur melodrama before the rest of the stake in the crowded cultural hall. For weeks before the event, leaders in the wards would concoct unlikely plots, create ridiculous songs and dances, and coerce reluctant youth into wearing outlandish costumes. Our roadshows could hardly be termed theater, but they were a lot of fun.
Of all the stake roadshows I took part in, one in particular stands out in my memory. The year I was 16, the stake presidency, of which my father was a member, decided the wards would not be allowed to use glitter in their costumes or makeup. Although the shimmering flecks looked wonderful on stage under the spotlight, they invariably found their way into the carpets and furniture of the rooms the wards used for preparation. Because the roadshow was to be held on Saturday night, the stake presidency hoped this measure would help keep the building clean for the Sabbath.
But in the enthusiasm and good-natured competition of that year’s roadshow, the stake presidency’s counsel went largely unheeded. After the performances concluded, I looked for my dad among the members slowly trickling from the building. They all seemed to have had a night of friendship and amusement. When I finally found my father in one of the rooms used for preparation, I could see that he was not amused. He was walking slowly around the room, gravely surveying the sparkles scattered about the floor.
“Most of the wards used glitter,” I said, stating the obvious.
“It’s like this in almost all the rooms,” he said and sighed. “Weren’t we clear about not using glitter?” he asked in frustration.
“I think you were,” I said, hoping to ease some of the tension.
By the time we found the rest of the family and went home, it was already late. But after seeing the younger kids to bed, my father took his car keys and went to the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Back to the stake center,” he said quietly. “I’m going to see what I can do to get it ready for Sunday. Do you want to come?”
I didn’t have any special desire to spend what remained of my Saturday evening cleaning, but when I thought about my dad doing all that work alone, I agreed to go.
By the time we reached the stake center, my dad’s attitude had changed. As we cleaned, he seemed less discouraged and even somewhat enthusiastic about the challenge before us. He spent the time asking me about school and my friends.
Although the cleaning took several hours, we both felt a certain pleasure in our work and tried to be as thorough as possible. It wasn’t until after midnight that we felt the building was ready for church in the morning.
The next day, I felt special satisfaction as I looked through the clean rooms and remembered how they had appeared the night before. I considered telling my friends about my one-night stint at janitorial work, but that didn’t seem appropriate. Apparently, my father felt the same—to this day I can’t remember him mentioning that night to anyone.
Today when I think back to that roadshow, I can’t remember any of the humor or costumes or music. What comes to mind are images of my father vacuuming and sweeping and picking glitter from the floor of the church—doing behind-the-scenes work in preparation for the Sabbath.