Gospel Story Finder

Nine-year-old Shelby gave the opening prayer in family home evening. “Shelby,” Mother said, “I think you are almost done with one of the Faith in God activities. You said the closing prayer for family home evening just a few weeks ago. Now you need to share your feelings about how prayer protects us and helps us stay close to Heavenly Father and the Savior.”
Shelby left the room and returned with her journal. She read how a few days earlier she had prayed in the backseat of the family car for help when the car would not start. Almost immediately a neighbor had arrived to help fix the problem. Shelby remembered to pray because she had been thinking about the Faith in God activity.
Like children all over the world, Shelby found that Faith in God is more than a program. It is a way to build faith as you practice living the gospel of Jesus Christ.

A young woman on a university volleyball team tells of the time when she and her friend Muki were playing together in a championship match:
““I remember it being a close game. … Gracie [on our opponents’ team] rounded her approach, jumped, and smacked the ball as hard as she could. … The line judges signaled out, and the head official raised his finger to show a point for [our team]. We began giving our usual high fives when we noticed that Muki was hand-motioning to the official that she touched the ball on her block. Muki was calling her own touch. The line judges … were … signaling out, [indicating] that there was no touch.
“The quiet, withdrawn Muki had showed an act of integrity and honesty like I had never seen before. Gracie Shute was so impressed that she talked with Muki after the match. … Muki later gave Gracie a Book of Mormon. I don’t know if Gracie has read the book … , but I do know that Gracie was touched by Muki’s example, as we all were.”

Sister Clark: Pain and suffering come to all of us. Illness, accidents, death, natural disasters, depression, disappointments of all kinds, and the actions of others cause physical and emotional pain and suffering. They disrupt our happiness. Our family has faced many such challenges over the years. They seem to come in bunches. Here are some examples:

President Clark: In February of 1998 my mother died unexpectedly of a blood clot in her lung. On the day of her funeral in St. George, Utah, we received word that our son Jonathan had been run over by a truck on a remote highway in Minnesota. The message was that he was alive, but badly injured.

Sister Clark: In May of 2004 our daughter Julia was diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease, a cancer of the lymph system. She came home from college to undergo several months of chemotherapy. While Julia was home, I was diagnosed with colon cancer and underwent major surgery that September.

President Clark: From these experiences, and from many others, we have learned that the pattern of holiness the Lord has given us helps us overcome the effects of pain and suffering. Here are the lessons:
Trust in the Lord Jesus Christ-trust in His love, mercy, and power, and in His timing. Resist thoughts of anger, bitterness, or despair. Act with faith in Christ to do His will, no matter what comes. Remember, the Savior sees the end from the beginning. His will is the very best thing that could ever happen.

Sister Clark: Nurture your personal spiritual and physical strength. When hard times come, we need strength of body and spirit. But hard times often cause us to stop doing the very things that bring personal strength. Don't stop exercising and eating right. When challenges come, continue to seek holiness in your life. Pray, search, and ponder the scriptures. Worship in the temple. Serve the Lord, and stay close to the Spirit.

President Clark: Serve someone else. It is true that when we suffer we need support and love. Those around us can bless us immensely with their care and concern. However, when we face affliction, we have a tendency to turn inward and become self-absorbed. That is a sure path to misery. Serving someone else gets us outside of ourselves. It opens channels of love, inspiration, and heavenly blessings. It is a sure path to overcoming suffering and finding happiness once again.

Sister Clark: Embrace the plan of happiness. Remember, pain and suffering are part of the plan. Instead of asking questions like, "Why do we have to suffer?" ask, "What does the Lord want us to learn from this experience?" Out of that kind of question comes gratitude for the Lord's love and tutoring, even when the experience is very hard.

President Clark: Last fall I learned this lesson in a powerful way. In August I had a kidney transplant. I had come to know that this was the Lord's plan for me. I decided to embrace the plan, including all of the pain and suffering it would entail-the surgery, the hospital, the recovery, the changes in my life-all of it. I was blessed with a deep conviction that this was the Lord's plan for new life for me, and I chose to embrace that plan.

At the end of the first day in the hospital (after surgery that morning), with a catheter in my neck and with lots of other tubes and catheters in me, I said to Sue, "I have loved every moment of this day." It hurt. I had a tough road ahead; but Sue was by my side, and the Lord blessed me to feel happiness and joy.

The other week was my little brother Gabriel’s birthday. He would have been seven, but he had cerebral palsy and passed away two years ago. In Primary we sang “Gethsemane.” The words were clear and meaningful. It filled the room with the Spirit.
After the song, Sister Webster bore her testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It filled the room even more with the Spirit. Then she talked about how her brother had died several years ago. It made me think of Gabriel, and I almost started crying. I thought about when I held Gabe for the last time. I was sad, but I also felt peace.
Sister Webster talked about how she was so glad to know that she would see her brother again. She said she knew all of us would see our loved ones who had passed on.
After Primary I gave Sister Webster a hug. We cried together for a few minutes. The Spirit was so strong. She told me that I would see my little brother again. She said the Atonement of Jesus Christ was not only for the wicked but also for the hurt. She asked what I missed the most about Gabe, and I said that I really missed his laugh.
I told Sister Webster that I had been sad because it was Gabriel’s birthday that week and I really needed to know that I would see my brother again. She told me that the tears that we were crying were tears of joy. I could feel the Spirit, and I knew what she said was true. I am sure that I will see Gabriel again, and that makes me so happy. I love him. I know that because Jesus Christ loves me, He gave His life so that I can see Gabriel again.

When I was about 13 years old, I lived with my grandmother. One day I found some abandoned magazines and began to read them. They contained stories from people all over the world, telling of miracles that had happened in their lives. These magazines were the Liahona; my aunt, who was a member of the Church, had left the magazines in my grandmother’s house.
The stories captivated me, and I felt something special telling me they were true. A year later I was baptized, and since then I have had my own subscription. The magazine has been a guide and a blessing. To me it is proof that God loves us and continues to reveal His secrets unto His servants the prophets (see Amos 3:7).
Lucilino Mendonça, Cape Verde

In his general conference address in April 2011, Elder Kent F. Richards relayed the following:
Thirteen-year-old Sherrie underwent a 14-hour operation for a tumor on her spinal cord. As she regained consciousness in the intensive care unit, she said: “Daddy, Aunt Cheryl is here, . . . and . . . Grandpa Norman . . . and Grandma Brown . . . are here. And Daddy, who is that standing beside you? . . . He looks like you, only taller. . . . He says he’s your brother, Jimmy.” Her uncle Jimmy had died at age 13 of cystic fibrosis.
“For nearly an hour, Sherrie . . . described her visitors, all deceased family members. Exhausted, she then fell asleep.”
Later she told her father, “Daddy, all of the children here in the intensive care unit have angels helping them.”

On a trip to the Orient it was my privilege to attend a sacrament meeting of the Naha Branch on the island of Okinawa. I was so impressed with the quality of the sacrament service and the reverence and dignity exhibited by the Aaronic Priesthood that when I was called to speak I asked one of the young men to join me at the pulpit. I asked him, “How do you feel knowing you hold the priesthood of God?” Not tall enough to see over the pulpit, he raised on his toes so he could see the congregation, then with deep emotion responded: “It’s the greatest honor of my life!”

She knew that she had a testimony. Just last fast Sunday she had followed Sister Hawkins to the stand. As she waited her turn, she looked over the congregation. I hope Marianne or Jill comes up and sits with me, she thought.
Sister Hawkins’s voice broke as she spoke of the Atonement. Why does she always cry when she bears her testimony? Susan wondered.
“I know Jesus Christ is the Savior of us all,” Sister Hawkins testified. “When I miss my husband and others who have passed on, I pray to Heavenly Father for comfort, and through the Holy Ghost my heart is filled with the Savior’s love. Then I don’t feel lonely anymore.”
Susan felt peace filling her heart as she listened. Tears moistened her eyes. The words to a Primary song came into her mind. “I feel my Savior’s love In all the world around me.”*
She closed her eyes and thought of the mountains. Red and yellow patches covered their sides. She loved autumn. She especially liked the smell of the air. She often saddled Lightning and galloped up the mountain road, breathing deeply.
She imagined the Savior creating the mountains, filling the streams with crystal water, and planting the trees for her. The feeling inside her kept growing until a tear trickled down her right cheek. She wiped it away with her index finger as the chorus came to her: “He knows I will follow him, Give all my life to him. I feel my Savior’s love, The love he freely gives me.”
When she walked to the pulpit, for the first time she didn’t think about her friends or about how proud her parents would be. She offered a silent prayer before she spoke. Please, Heavenly Father, help me to feel my Savior’s love like Sister Hawkins does. She felt a sweet peace flow over her. Her prayer had been answered. Tears streamed down her face. All she could say was “I feel my Savior’s love too. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

Some years ago, President Thomas S. Monson came to a regional conference in Hamburg, Germany, and it was my honor to accompany him.
President Monson asked about Brother Michael Panitsch, a former stake president who had been one of the stalwart pioneers of the Church in Germany. I told him that Brother Panitsch was seriously ill, that he was bedridden and unable to attend our meetings.
President Monson asked if we could pay him a visit.
I knew that shortly before his trip to Hamburg, President Monson had undergone foot surgery and that he could not walk without pain. I explained that Brother Panitsch lived on the fifth floor of a building with no elevators. We would have to climb the stairs to see him.
But President Monson insisted. And so we went.
I remember how difficult it was for President Monson to climb those stairs. He could take only a few at a time before needing to stop and rest. He never uttered a word of complaint, and he would not turn back. Because the building had high ceilings, the stairs seemed to go on forever, but President Monson cheerfully persevered until we arrived at the apartment of Brother Panitsch on the fifth floor.
Once there, we had a wonderful visit. President Monson thanked him for his life of dedicated service and cheered him with a smile. Before we left, he gave him a wonderful priesthood blessing.
President Monson could have chosen to rest between our long meetings. He could have asked to see some of the beautiful sights of Hamburg. I have often thought of how remarkable it was that of all the sights in that city, the one he wanted to see more than any other was a feeble and ailing member of the Church.
President Monson came to Hamburg to teach and bless the people of a country. But at the same time, he focused on the one.

Correction, hopefully gentle, can come from one’s spouse. Elder Richard G. Scott, who just addressed us, remembers a time early in his marriage when his wife, Jeanene, counseled him to look directly at people when he spoke to them. “You look at the floor, the ceiling, the window, anywhere but in their eyes,” she said. He took that gentle rebuke to heart, and it made him much more effective in counseling and working with people. As one who served as a full-time missionary under then-President Scott’s direction, I can attest that he does look one squarely in the eye in his conversations. I can also add that when one needs correction, that look can be very penetrating.

Prior to our experience of losing Benny, there was another particularly difficult time in my life when my faith and belief in myself were tested. One night I found myself praying to the Lord that He would bring me home. Life was hard, but I knew the Lord loved me. I felt that if I could return to His presence, everything would somehow be okay. This is now a prayer I am incredibly grateful the Lord didn’t answer in the way I had hoped at the time. In that moment, instead of calling me home, the Lord touched my heart with the closest thing I have ever had to a vision—a vision that changed my perspective and that has buoyed me up as challenges have come into my life, including losing our sweet Benny.

As I prayed that night all those years ago, I felt the Lord give me perspective about my choice to come here. This certainly isn’t doctrine, but I share this personal and meaningful experience in the hope that it may be meaningful for you in some way too.

In this vision I felt I could see the War in Heaven. I don’t know about you, but for some reason the War in Heaven had always felt very impersonal to me—like we were all up in heaven together, standing around in an almost pep-rally-type way as teams were being picked. We had to choose our team in this very loud and chaotic scene. I am not sure why this had always been my thought on the War in Heaven—maybe because we refer to it as a war, which would imply some sort of chaos.

But this night I had a very different perspective. Instead of being amidst a crowd, I pictured a very personal experience with a loving Father in Heaven. I pictured Him sitting me down individually and presenting to me the plan to follow His Son, which would include coming to earth, getting a body, and facing the inevitable difficulties of life.

In all of my premortal and angelic exuberance, I saw myself saying, “Yes, yes! Of course that is what I want! I know I can do it! Send me down!”

But then I pictured a wise and kind Father gently putting His arm around me and in a calm voice saying, “But Tiff, it is going to be hard. Life isn’t going to be easy. When you are twenty, your first marriage is going to end. At thirty, you are going to face the reality of being a victim of sexual violence. At forty, you are going to lose Benny. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

I then pictured myself taking a moment, looking at this plan that the Lord had designed just for me, and then, with all the faith my eternal self could muster, even more resolutely saying, “Yes, of course that is what I want. I know I can do it.”

As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, one of the core tenets of our faith is the gift of agency. We believe that our agency existed before we came to earth and that we made the choice to keep our first estate and come here. In thinking about that choice—and having the perspective that I believe the Lord blessed me with during that particularly challenging time in my life—I realize that if all that life was meant to be was hard, I wouldn’t have signed up for it! I don’t think any of us would have. But when I made this choice—when we made this choice—I believe we had an eternal perspective that helped us to understand that the eternal joy available in and through the Savior far exceeded any earthly pain or struggle we would face.

Yes, I believe we knew life would be hard—to what extent I am not sure—but I also believe that our eternal selves believed in the Lord and believed in our ability to face this earth life and come out on top. Whenever my mortal mind starts to doubt, I remind myself of this ­experience, and I trust the “eternal Tiffany” who, with a grander perspective, believed she could withstand the storms of life with the Lord’s help.

As Dirk and I left the leaf-strewn path and rounded the corner of Dempsten’s General Store, we smelled the strong gasoline fumes that arose in shimmering waves from the opening of Mr. Larson’s bright gas tank and danced off in the autumn sunlight.
“Howdy, kids!” Mr. Dempsten called as he kept pumping the gas. “The electric poles out to your place yet?”
Dirk grinned happily but shook his head, while I shivered and opened the door. We stepped quickly inside.
“Morning, kids,” Mrs. Dempsten called cheerily. She stacked one last can on the shelf, then climbed down the ladder. “What can I do for you today?”
“We need five pounds of sugar and five pounds of cornmeal,” I replied. “Plus, Mother wants ten yards of unbleached muslin and one box of yellow dye.”
Mrs. Dempsten reached for the heavy bolt of material. “Getting ready to make new curtains, I expect,” she said. “And if she’s planning on making a quilt this winter, I have new cotton batting selling for thirty cents a bundle.”
“I’ll tell her,” I replied.
“I have yellow muslin, too,” Mrs. Dempsten continued as she measured the material along a yardstick fastened to the counter. “Only two cents more per yard.”
“I’d better get just what she asked for,” I replied.
Dirk pointed silently at the penny candy behind the glass. I nodded, then waited to see if there would be any change.
“Is that it, Lucy?” Mrs. Dempsten asked, wetting the tip of her pencil between her lips before writing on the paper.
I nodded.
Mrs. Dempsten added the column from top to bottom, then added it again from bottom to top. Finally she shoved the pencil back into her hair and quickly folded the muslin. “That’s two dollars even, Lucy,” she said with a smile.
I pulled the money from my pocket. Dirk gave me a dark look, then slumped with his back against the candy case.
“Have they gotten the electric poles out to your farm yet?” she asked as she tied a piece of twine around the bundle of muslin.
“No, but they’re near the old Beamer place!” Dirk announced excitedly. “I watch them work every day!”
“I suppose everyone in the valley will have electricity before long,” Mrs. Dempsten said.
“Father said we’ll have to pay for water next!” I added with a grin.
Mrs. Dempsten laughed. “Not as long as everyone has good wells! But we can’t hold back progress, can we?” She reached for a small paper sack and plopped a handful of penny candy into it. Then she twisted the top and handed it to Dirk. “Take this along with you, and don’t eat it all at once!”
Later Dirk and I sat in a clump of dried weeds by the fence, watching the men put another electric pole into the ground. “I hope the first good wind doesn’t blow them over,” Dirk said thoughtfully.
I stood and brushed off the seat of my slacks. “It’s getting cold. I’m going home. Are you coming?”
Dirk shook his head. “You go—I like to watch progress!”
The ground was frosty crisp, and the air chill with winter’s promise. Stray pumpkins dotted the field, and as I walked carefully over the corn stubble, I found one that was nearly perfect. I twisted it from its stem, then carried it to the root cellar. As I started toward the house, I heard the shed doors banging in the rising wind.
The orange sky was turning gray, and the air had stinging spears of snow in it. I looked across the field toward the road and shook my head. Dirk will probably sit and watch the men working until it’s dark, no matter how cold it gets, I thought. With a shivering hand, I pulled my collar up around my face and hurried toward the banging doors.
I grabbed the doors and pulled with all my might, but one flapped out of my hand and banged loudly. Finally they both stood edge to edge, and I fixed the latch. As I went around the corner, I glanced in through the shed window. A dark form huddled on the floor in a corner! At first I thought that it was a wild animal; then I looked closer and saw that it was a man.
He looked like he was sleeping—or maybe even dead! A shiver went through me, and my feet seemed glued to the spot, while my arms and legs turned to mush. I was afraid to stay there but even more afraid to move. Finally I turned the knob of the side door as quietly as I could and opened it. Instantly it was torn from my hand by the wind and banged noisily against the side of the shed. My heart leaped into my throat, and I stared fearfully at the man. But he didn’t move.
Terrified, I dashed toward the house, pounded onto the porch, and burst into the kitchen. “Father!” I blurted. “There’s a stranger in our shed!”
Father was on his feet instantly. He grabbed Dirk’s baseball bat from the corner and hurried outside, with me close behind.
“Paul!” Mother called frantically.
Father turned and said gently, “Don’t worry, Lucile. I’ll be very careful.” Then he patted my shoulder and smiled. “Stay well behind me, Lucy.”
The shed was even darker by then, and father blinked in the direction I pointed. “Howdy,” he called out. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
When the man didn’t move or make a sound, Father frowned and crept closer until he almost stood over him. Gently he shook the man’s arm. The man groaned and rolled himself into a tighter ball. Father knelt and touched the man’s forehead. “He’s burning up with fever!” he declared, releasing his hold on the baseball bat. “Tell your mother that I’m bringing him inside, Lucy.”
I was almost afraid to leave my father alone with the stranger, but he bent and slid one arm under the man’s shoulders and the other under his legs. With a heave, he lifted him from the cold dirt floor. I ran ahead to the house.
Father put the man to bed in our spare room; then Mother wiped his beard-studded face and put cool cloths on his head. “Keep quiet, children,” she said gently. “He’s a very sick young man.”
“I’ll get the doctor,“ Father said with concern.
Later, after Doctor Borrison had come and gone, Dirk and I stood in the hall and looked through the door at the sleeping stranger.
“He looks like a tramp,” Dirk whispered. “Maybe a criminal, even!”
I shrugged. “He’s sick and down and out, that’s all.”
“With all the progress around here, he could get a job somewhere if he wanted to,” Dirk mumbled. “Father will probably have to pay the doctor bill now too. We’ll never save enough to get electricity.”
“Progress doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t help each other,” I reminded Dirk impatiently. “That’s all Mom and Dad are trying to do.”
Dirk frowned as Father came up the stairs. “Come away, children,” he said gently. “Let the poor man rest.”
“How long’s he going to be here?” Dirk grumped.
“As long as it takes him to get well, Dirk,” Father answered. “You wouldn’t want me to be hungry and sick and lying on someone’s cold shed floor somewhere, would you?”
Dirk looked up quickly. “No, Father!” he exclaimed contritely. “It’s just that I’ve been hoping that maybe soon we’d have enough money for electricity.”
Father nodded. “But electricity is a convenience, Dirk, and we can get it or do without it. People, on the other hand, are different, and if we don’t help each other, then progress doesn’t mean much, does it?”

Right before I graduated from college, my wife and I were pondering two questions: when we should begin having children and where to go after graduation. We spent many hours talking about these intimidating issues but hadn’t come to any conclusions.
One particular Sunday, our conversation slowly turned into a debate, which then escalated into an argument. At that moment, the doorbell rang. We were surprised to find our home teachers standing in the doorway.
We invited them in and listened to their message. One of our home teachers began talking about Moses and the children of Israel making their escape from Egypt. When the children of Israel got to the shores of the Red Sea, they could go no further, and the Egyptians were quickly approaching. The scriptures say that the children of Israel “were sore afraid” (Exodus 14:10). When Moses prayed for guidance, the Lord responded, “Wherefore criest thou unto me? speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward” (Exodus 14:15).
As soon as our home teacher read that scripture, the feelings of frustration and fear melted away. My wife and I realized that we had been sitting on the banks of the Red Sea wondering what to do but that in order to “see the salvation of the Lord” (Exodus 14:13), we would have to go forward.
In our case, going forward meant making an informed decision, working diligently, and trusting in the Lord. We had to stop debating and start acting in faith. As we followed the Lord’s guidance, the sea of choices before us parted, and we were able to walk through unscathed. We are grateful for the blessings we received from moving forward in faith and for home teachers who inspired us to take the first steps.

The Secret Agents of Love, or SAL Squad, started three years ago to accomplish an important mission: to unite the Bluffdale (Utah) Second Ward Young Women.
Not that all of the girls were inactive. They were just … bored. And they weren’t showing up for activities. One night, after another activity fizzled, some of the girls started talking to their leaders about what they could do.
“We were feeling pretty discouraged. Then someone mentioned this story about a girl who ran around doing things to make other people happy. All of a sudden, our attitudes changed. We realized that we could do the same thing,” said Marci Nielson, 18.
The first project was to deliver cookies. Cars honked. People yelled. Trucks pulled over at the sight of several girls wearing cone heads and army boots and riding on two-seated bicycles.
“We didn’t miss anyone. If they were at work, we went right up to the drive-up window of the restaurant, or to the produce section of the supermarket. I think it really made everyone feel good,” said Kristin Sherwood, 18.
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe that this is a service project. It helps to cheer up someone’s day in a really fun way,” said Katie Drury, 18.
All of the girls admit they’re having fun. But they also say that somewhere between the cookies, songs, and costumes, something is changing lives—especially theirs.
Kristin admits that before this Young Women activity started, she didn’t take the time to get to know the younger girls. “I would have missed out on some great friendships.”
The SAL Squad operates with two secret weapons—(1) everyone, girls and Young Women leaders alike, joins in, and (2) love. They say they don’t leave home without it.
“I’ll always remember the fun we’ve had,” says Janalyn Anderson, 18. “But my favorite memory will be of someone opening the door and looking at us like, ‘I’m important to you? You dressed up and did all this for me?’ It has changed lives. And all it took was love.”

Steve Bennion, the president of Ricks College, told of a student there who contributed to an environment of trust as a leader on that campus. This young student spent her first semester at Ricks feeling a bit lonely and left out. She went home at Christmastime and talked to her parents about her feelings and even considered not returning to school for the next semester. Her parents encouraged her to continue her schooling, and her mother made a suggestion. She told her daughter to do something for someone each day that she was not required to do. This young woman followed her mother’s advice and eventually became an outstanding leader on campus and served as president of the Associated Women Students. President Bennion stated that it would be difficult to believe that this strong and accomplished young woman had ever felt discouraged and lonely. The transformation in that school environment for her began with simple acts of service.

This advice has been true for Susan and me. The friends we made in college are among the fondest, dearest gifts of our BYU education. Susan was particularly good—and intentional—about cultivating friendships when she was a student.

When I started college, I did not know anyone. I was a little scared and lonely. So I set a goal to sit by new people for each meal and learn their names and something about them. I did this day after day until I knew every person in my group. I became friends with them. And they are dear friends still.

It also helped her dating I must say. Sister Tanner learned the ageless truth that to make friends you must be a friend. Or as Proverbs puts it: “A man that hath friends must show himself friendly…” [2] Likewise, Jesus taught that to find our life we must lose our lives. [3] As you forget yourself and reach out to others, you will find new friends and a much richer life here.

In the April conference of 1951, the same year that he and Emma Ray celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary, David Oman McKay stood in the Tabernacle on Temple Square and spoke to those assembled. At the age of seventy-eight, he was unanimously sustained by the Saints as the prophet, seer, and revelator—and President of the Church.
“Brethren and sisters, brethren of the General Authorities,” he began, “God keep us as one, overlooking weaknesses we see, keeping an eye single to the glory of God and the advancement of his work.
“And now to the members of the Church. We all need your help, your faith and prayers, not your adverse criticism, but your help. You can do that in prayer if you cannot reach us in person. The potency of these prayers throughout the Church came to me yesterday when I received a letter from a neighbor in my old home town. He was milking his cows when the word came over the radio which he had in his barn, that President Smith had passed. He sensed what that would mean to his former fellow-townsman, and he left his barn and went to the house and told his wife. Immediately they called their little children, and there in that humble home, suspending their activities, they knelt down as a family and offered prayer. The significance of that prayer I leave for you to understand. Multiply that by a hundred thousand, two hundred thousand, half a million homes, and see the power in the unity and prayers, and in the sustaining influence in the body of the Church.”
President McKay’s administration, like his life before, was filled with remarkable accomplishment. He and Sister McKay went to nation after nation to visit and bless both members and nonmembers. Temple building commenced in many countries, missionary activities expanded, Church population grew. A great spirit of progress seemed to captivate everyone, and goodwill developed toward the Latter-day Saints.
But it was his commitment to love every person that thrilled Church members. One day a Sunday School class of youth came several miles to see him, by appointment, but he had just rushed off to the hospital where his brother, Thomas E. McKay, lay near death. The following Sunday, miles away from his office, there was a knock on the door of the Sunday School classroom. When the teacher opened the door, there stood President McKay. He had come to meet the class and apologize for being gone the day they had come to see him.
After explaining why he was not in his office that day, he shook hands with the teacher and with each of the children. “I want you to know,” he said, “that the President of the Church keeps his appointments if at all possible.”
This great caring about how we behave toward everyone around us was one of the great lessons President McKay taught. On the trip to Europe to dedicate the temple sites in Switzerland and England, President McKay was surrounded by eager English youth seeking autographs from him. The first in line was a young girl about nine years old. She asked the President’s son, who was accompanying him, “May I have President McKay’s autograph?” The son, who thought his father was too tired, began to dissuade her. But President McKay, overhearing the conversation, turned to her and asked jokingly, “Do you think I can write plainly enough so you can read it?” The girl wasn’t sure whether he was in earnest, and she became flustered. At that moment, an aide interrupted with a pressing question, and several minutes of conversation ensued. When the President turned back to speak again to the girl, she had disappeared.
“I have never seen father more upset,” said his son. “Please find that girl in the blue dress,” President McKay directed. “I’m sure she has the impression that I didn’t want to sign her book. She misinterpreted my remarks. You must find her.” Before long, branch presidents and mission presidents were looking for a little girl in blue. But the search was in vain. Finally, a missionary thought he knew who the girl was. He telephoned the President later that night and then received these instructions: “Tell the girl that I am sorry I missed her, and that I have asked the branch president to send her book to me by mail to Salt Lake City; I will sign my autograph and mail it directly back to her.” And he did!
The worth of a soul! President McKay felt that every living thing deserves our respect and thoughtful care. He felt this way even about animals and birds, and he liked to return often to his Huntsville farm to ride his horses and to visit. Once, someone broke into the farm and stole the President’s saddles. When the saddles were replaced with new ones, they were kept in the saddle house under lock and key. One day President McKay’s sisters stopped to check on things at the farm, and seeing one of the windows on the saddle house open, they closed it to avert a second theft. Hearing from his sisters what they had done, the President gently said, “I left that window open purposely because there is a bird’s nest inside, and that is the only entrance the parent birds have to carry food to their babies. I think I shall just have time to run over.” He went and opened the window and, returning, said in a gracious way, “It was just as I expected—one little bird was outside trying to get in, and the mother bird was inside attempting to get out.”
While serving as a member of the Council of the Twelve, Elder McKay owned a big boar named Caesar. One Sunday morning Caesar broke out of his enclosure. Not having time to repair the fence before boarding a train, Elder McKay put him in the chicken coop. But he forgot to tell any of his boys about it. That night at 2 A.M., the McKay household was awakened by the incessant ringing of the telephone. Answering it, and fearful that a tragic message was involved, they received a telegram over the phone: “Caesar in chicken coop. Water him!”
President McKay’s bearing, nobility, and dignity and his love of the Savior he served were evidenced in every word he spoke and in everything he did. But what he had become through his commitment to the Savior was evident even when he sat peacefully and said nothing. The following incident is told by a man who met President McKay on his return from one of his visits to Europe:
“I remember being in New York when President McKay returned from Europe. Arrangements had been made for pictures to be taken, but the regular photographer was unable to go, so in desperation the United Press picked their crime photographer—a man accustomed to the toughest type of work in New York. He went to the airport, stayed there two hours, and returned later from the dark room with a tremendous sheaf of pictures. He was supposed to take only two. His boss immediately chided him: ‘What in the world are you wasting your time and all those photographic supplies for?’
“The photographer replied very curtly, saying he would gladly pay for the extra materials, and they could even dock him for the extra time he took. It was obvious that he was very touchy about it. Several hours later the vice-president called him to his office, wanting to learn what had happened. The crime photographer said, ‘When I was a little boy, my mother used to read to me out of the Old Testament, and all my life I have wondered what a prophet of God must really look like. Well, today I found one.’”
David O. McKay was a prophet who saw good in everyone and who truly cared for people.

Years before serving as a counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, Brother Bradley R. Wilcox and his wife, Debi, sent their reluctant 14-year-old son to Especially for Youth (EFY) at Brigham Young University.
They worried that he “didn’t have a spiritual bone in his body.” The teen came home different—more focused and sensitive to spiritual things. Now, years later, he is serving in a bishopric and mentoring the youth in his own ward.

Back in 2003, the Church started holding worldwide leadership training meetings. Using satellite technology, the meetings were broadcast all over the world so Church leaders almost everywhere could be trained at the same time. The first training was held on Jan. 11, 2003, and the second one was held almost six months later, on June 21. Both of those meetings took place on Saturdays. There was a guy in the Rexburg area who had a Church calling which made him eligible to be invited to those meetings. Attending the one in January wasn't too much of a sacrifice, because, as you know, the weather and environment in Rexburg in January isn't too conducive for anything but staying indoors, where it is warm.

From your response, I'm guessing some of you can relate to this Rexburg giraffe? But when the June meeting came along, it was a different story.

For this man there were family wants and needs with his youngest son still at home. This guy was a veterinarian with a busy, growing practice. Plus he and his family farmed a couple hundred acres, which gave them the opportunity to work together as a family, but it also increased the demands on their time. When June 21 came along, the family was busy, and free time on Saturday was precious, with many things needing attention.

To top it off, the weather was beautiful--it was a clear, warm day, with only a light breeze. There was little desire to sit through a long church meeting. But even though his heart wasn't in the right place, he went to the meeting out of duty.

After the opening song and prayer, the meeting started with Elder Packer talking about how to confer the priesthood. The guy thought to himself, "What am I doing here? I've heard all this before. In fact, I've done it several times." The meeting continued with Elder Perry, Elder Hales, Elder Nelson, and Elder Maxwell teaching basic principles of gospel leadership skills. The guy thought he knew it all. His attitude didn't improve. President Monson, then counselor in the First Presidency, was the next to the last speaker. His talk was titled "A New Spirit Will I Put within You." The guy's attitude started to soften a little. The spiritual channels started to open slightly. Following President Monson, President Hinckley was the concluding speaker.

As President Hinckley started to speak, something happened. President Hinckley seemingly looked out through the camera, through the electromagnetic waves of satellite broadcasting, through the digital projector in Rexburg, Idaho, and looked directly into the eyes and heart of this guy with the sulky attitude. As President Hinckley looked, and as he perceived, these are the words he uttered at almost the very beginning of his instruction. "We now have some 350 or 400 new stake presidents every year. We have some 4,500 new bishops each year. Other officers are constantly rotating. New leaders must be trained, and some of the mature leaders may be inclined to say, 'I've heard it all before.'" President Hinckley was talking directly to the man in Rexburg, or so it seemed, and he now had the guy's undivided attention. Then President Hinckley continued, and please listen carefully to this. He said, "Well, repetition is a law of learning. No matter how long we have served, we need constant refreshing." That last phrase hit home, and finally the bad attitude changed. The barriers came down. The Spirit could teach. The Spirit carried to the now-humbled heart of this man the words "Repetition is a law of learning," and they sank in. But the Spirit was also the interpreter and translator for the lesson being so profoundly taught, and the words perceived and remembered were slightly different. The message received was "Repetition is a process of perfection!" To add the final knockout punch, the Spirit seemingly tapped the guy on the shoulder and whispered gently, but with power, "Friend, you aren't processing too well, and you are a long, long way from perfection."

Well, if you haven't figured it out already, the guy with the bad attitude and hard heart was me. That experience took place over 14 years ago, but I still remember it in minute detail. It had an amazing and lasting effect.

The experience of one young man illustrates this:
There are two things in my life that I’ve always felt would be important: a career and marriage. Yet at the time I didn’t feel like I was getting a response. I prayed, “Heavenly Father, this is so important, I need to know whether or not it’s right.” Then, toward the end of our courtship, I went to the temple. I was so frustrated because I wasn’t getting an answer either way. After praying and waiting for an answer, I got more frustrated and gave up. That was when an impression came to me: “You already know the answer.” Then I realized that God had answered my prayers. The decision to marry Becky always made sense and felt right. I can see now that God had been telling me in my heart and in my mind that it was a good decision. And later, at the time of the ceremony, I had another confirmation that what I was doing was right.