Gospel Story Finder

That same spirit drew others to the Book of Mormon as it was being printed. Thomas Marsh, a former printer’s apprentice, had tried to find his place in other churches, but none of them seemed to preach the gospel he found in the Bible. He believed that a new church would soon arise that would teach restored truth.
That summer, Thomas felt led by the Spirit to travel hundreds of miles from his home in Boston to western New York. He stayed in the area three months before turning toward home, uncertain why he had traveled so far. At a stop along the way back, however, his host asked if he had heard about Joseph Smith’s “golden book.” Thomas told the woman he had not and felt compelled to learn more.
She told him he should talk to Martin Harris and directed him to Palmyra. Thomas went there immediately and found Martin at Grandin’s printshop. The printer gave him 16 pages of the Book of Mormon, and Thomas took them back to Boston, eager to share the first taste of this new faith with his wife, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth read the pages, and she too believed they were the work of God.10

“They’re only making him a deacon!” I exclaimed. “But why? I thought when men were baptized, they just automatically became priests!”
“It’s never automatic, Sister. It’s between the branch president and …”
“Well, I didn’t exactly mean automatic. But, he’s such a fine man. Can’t the branch president see how good and humble and sincere and …” I was out of adjectives and out of breath when Sister Bullen replied.
“As I was saying,” she cocked her eyebrows for emphasis, “it’s between the branch president and the Lord. I think they can handle it. Don’t you?” She smiled sweetly, almost daring me to disagree.
I looked at my companion, not knowing if I should be angry or if I should laugh with her. I would have gone off to sulk, but our apartment was about as big as a shoe box. It’s hard to go off somewhere when you eat, sleep, and study in one room! It takes all the fun out of pouting.
I sat on my bed and pretended to study. I wished I had the faith Sister Bullen had. She’d been in the mission field for more than a year, and she was so calm about everything.
“Sister. Sister Johnson! Hey! You’re sure a long ways away! Are you still worrying about Brother Manzo?” Sister Bullen asked.
“I, well, yes I am. How did you know?”
“Because you’ve been studying that page for about 15 minutes,” she said with a smile. “Why are you so upset?”
“I just don’t think that someone who is as good as Brother Manzo should have to start out as a deacon. It’s like they don’t think he will stay with it, so they don’t trust him with anything else.”
Sister Bullen liked to joke around, and she kidded me a lot, but she was really serious when she asked, “Do you think that Brother Manzo is too proud to be a deacon?”
“No, he’s not too proud. But he’s a grown man, and he’s so dignified and kind of shy. I don’t want him to be embarrassed to be passing the sacrament with all those little boys. After all he has been through, I think he deserves to be a priest.
She smiled at me. “I think he’ll be okay.”
Sitting in the chapel on Sunday, I felt a little nervous again. The deacons were standing around the table, waiting to pick up their trays. Brother Manzo towered over the rest of the deacons. I noticed he was wearing a new white shirt and a tie. He was watching carefully to make sure he did the right things.
As he turned and reverently carried his tray of bread toward us, I could see that his face was shining. He caught my eye and smiled warmly. I looked down at my scriptures. They were open to the 26th chapter of Matthew, and I read verse 26: “And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat …”
I couldn’t see the words through the tears in my eyes. It had been me, not Brother Manzo, who needed to learn about the priesthood! I felt a squeeze on my arm, and Sister Bullen smiled at me and winked.
I guess there’s no such thing as being “only” a deacon.

Recently we had a lesson in teachers quorum, and our leader asked us, “What is a quorum?” I’d had lessons about this before, but this time I felt the Spirit telling me the message was important and I needed to listen and apply it.
We answered that a quorum is a group of priesthood holders who rely on each other and stick together. The instructor explained that quorum members have a responsibility to help and lift each other. He then showed us a video about a ward in Florida that started with just one young man who invited his friend, who then invited a friend, who then invited a cousin, etc., until there were 26 active young men in the ward.
Our instructor stopped the video and asked, “How many members of our quorum aren’t here today?” We listed six or seven. He asked if we had any idea why they weren’t at church. After we had given our answers, he asked, “Who has reached out to one of these boys to ask why he doesn’t come or to let him know we miss him?” I raised my hand, thankful that I had just had a conversation with one of these quorum members in the past week. However, it struck me that I’d had the conversation with only one quorum member—not six or seven.
Our leader continued, “A quorum helps each other out, right? So then doesn’t it make sense that we would all want to help each other to be here and to be working toward the same goal of eternal life?” I really pondered that question, and I suddenly felt a responsibility, as president of my quorum, to get my missing quorum members back to church and activities.
We decided as a quorum to focus on helping each quorum member come unto Christ. I want to help them feel the happiness of participating in the gospel because I know that it brings me so much happiness. I felt prompted to put more time and energy into helping my quorum members—that’s my duty as a priesthood holder and quorum member. I also felt strongly that, as president of the quorum, I have priesthood keys for a reason. Heavenly Father trusts me to help my brothers.
I am thankful that the Spirit spoke to me so strongly and directly during the lesson. Now I’ve committed to act on the prompting I received to be a better leader, friend, and disciple of Christ.

In 1829 Joseph Smith, with the help of his scribe Oliver Cowdery, finished translating the Book of Mormon.
Oliver, the Lord is pleased with us.
Now we just need to publish this great book.
Joseph and Oliver went to Palmyra, New York, and spoke to Egbert B. Grandin, a printer.
We need 5,000 copies of this book as soon as possible.
It will cost $3,000. Since you want so many copies and this is such a big book, it may take me over a year.
Several months later Mr. Grandin became worried that Joseph would not pay. He stopped the printing of the Book of Mormon until he could be sure.
I mortgaged my farm to print the Book of Mormon. That should put Mr. Grandin at ease.
That’s wonderful, Martin!
Mr. Grandin had a new press that made the printing process much faster than earlier presses. Still, it took him a long time.
Mr. Grandin, we’re almost finished, and it has been only seven months!
I don’t completely understand how.
Once the Book of Mormon was published, the Lord commanded Joseph to organize the Church. On April 6, 1830, about 60 people met in the home of Peter Whitmer Sr.
Welcome, brothers and sisters.
The members sustained Joseph as the prophet and took the sacrament.
Though the Church started out with just a few members, Joseph later told some brethren in Kirtland about its destiny.
It is only a little handful of priesthood you see here tonight, but this Church will fill North and South America—it will fill the world.

President Benson’s testimony made a deep and lasting impression on a minister of that church, Father Alexander. A few years later, this minister told a Finnish member of our church, Sister Irma Airto, that of all the notable people who visited the Baptist church and signed the guest register, Ezra Taft Benson was the greatest. President Benson was visiting Russia as a high official in the United States government, but Father Alexander recognized him as a great spiritual leader. Father Alexander told Sister Airto, “When you meet Mr. Benson, tell him … that we know he is a man of God and I pray for him.” Sister Airto never expected to meet President Benson in person to convey this message. However, when he visited Finland and created the Helsinki Finland Stake in October 1977, she was able to deliver the message, strengthening her testimony that the Lord guides our affairs.

Late night revelation as a parent is my favorite. We have a baby of seven months that likes to wake up at the worst hours. Sometimes, he struggles to go back to sleep. My wife and I have lost many hours of sleep to that little guy. One particular time a few months ago sticks out in my mind. It was my night to be on-call; my patience had run dry, and I was exhausted, and the usual means of providing him comfort were not working. I remember pleading that I could know how to help calm the baby, so I could sleep. A thought came to me. It was seemingly random, but it was a thought to do something I had never done before. I held my child's hand in mine rather just stick his pacifier in again or adjust his blanket. He quickly calmed down and was asleep in five minutes! It was a one-time deal though because it did not work in subsequent rough nights.

• In Otavalo, you step off a dirt road at the edge of town and walk through a patch of corn to a tiny, two-room home. Juan José Muñoz, second counselor in the presidency of the Otavalo Ecuador Stake, lives here with his wife, Laura, and their four children. Sister Muñoz is Relief Society president in their ward.
In 1986, the Muñoz family traveled to the Lima Peru Temple to be sealed. They could not have made it without the Lord’s help, President Muñoz says. For more than a year, they had put aside half of his earnings to help pay the cost; they sold some of their meager possessions and borrowed twenty dollars to scrape together the last of the money. In 1988, they repeated the trip, after the same kind of struggle.
Latter-day Saints must go to the temple to understand the full blessings of the gospel, President Muñoz says: “That’s why we are looking forward so much to having a temple in Ecuador.”

In these canyons, Mosiah, Lao Moy, and many other faithful Saints worked tirelessly to divide the boulders with hand drills, wedges, and low-power explosives. The rough blocks were then transported by oxteam—four yoke required for each block—and every trip was a difficult three- or four-day journey to the temple site some twenty miles away.
Mosiah touched Lao Moy’s shoulder and brought him out of his reverie. “I’m going to set off the blast, Lao Moy,” he cautioned, and then shouted a warning to the nearby workers. Mosiah lit the fuse and sprinted with Lao Moy for cover.
Two other workmen held a team of oxen. One of them was fourteen-year-old Corey Atwood. Corey, a tough, stout boy, had long taken pleasure in cruelly funning Lao Moy because of his broken English, his long queue (braid), and his quiet and obedient ways. It was often Corey who kept Lao Moy’s bitterness alive, but the Chinese boy had held it all inside, even when the troublesome Corey had once grabbed Lao Moy’s queue and threatened to cut it off with a knife.
The blast erupted like the sound of cannon fire over a Virginia cottonfield, and the big piece of granite split in two. Cheers went up, and Mosiah scrambled up the rocks to view his accomplishment. Lao Moy started up, too, but was soon held fast by Corey, who held onto his queue.
“What’s the matter, Lao Moy,” he chuckled, “somebody got your tail?”
Suddenly something exploded inside Lao Moy with no less force than Mosiah’s dynamite blast. He turned and struck Corey in the face so hard that the big boy was lifted off his feet and thrown backward in front of the team of oxen. The wide-eyed Atwood looked as surprised as Lao Moy. He wiped at the blood on his mouth and started to lift himself up when a clap of thunder suddenly boomed. As the already spooked oxen lurched forward, Lao Moy sprang for Corey and rolled him out of the path of pounding hooves and grinding wheels.
For a long moment the two boys just lay there, staring at each other. Finally, a smile broke across Corey’s dusty, blood-smeared face. Lao Moy smiled back, and all the old bitterness in his heart seemed to melt away like ice in a summer sun. A new peaceful feeling assured him it would not return.
Lao Moy was forty-five years old when the Salt Lake Temple was finally dedicated on April 6, 1893; Mosiah, seventy-six; and Corey Atwood, forty-seven. Corey sat close beside Lao Moy as President Wilford Woodruff offered the dedicatory prayer. A friendship had grown between them, a friendship as strong as the temple granite they had helped to cut. And like that granite, it would last forever.

Have you ever thought what it would be like to spend Christmas in a country halfway around the world, among people with different religions and different customs than yours? That happened to me when I was eleven.
My father is a professor of Middle East history. He believes that it is important to understand the countries he teaches about and that the best way to learn about the people is to live there. For two years my parents, my two little sisters, and I lived and traveled in many countries of the Middle East.
Our hosts on this particular Christmas Eve were the Hassans in Egypt. Mohammed Hassan, a student of my father’s in the United States, had said: “When you go to Cairo, please visit my brother Ali and his family. It will make them very happy.”
We went from Lebanon, where Daddy was teaching, to spend our Christmas vacation in Egypt. When we arrived in Cairo Daddy telephoned Ali Hassan, who invited us to his home for dinner the next night—Christmas Eve. Mr. Hassan called for us in his car. He seemed pleased to meet friends of Mohammed. When we reached his home we were received with the familiar Arabic greeting, Ahalan-wasahalan (You are welcome here)!” He introduced his wife, their three little girls and baby boy, Mr. Hassan’s mother, who lived with them, and relatives who were visiting from Upper Egypt.
None of them spoke much English and we only knew a few words of Arabic, so I dreaded the long evening ahead of us. It was bad enough to be missing all the excitement of Christmas—gifts, parties, and the Christmas services—but having to spend Christmas Eve this way seemed like a nightmare. I wished we were back in our cold hotel room where we could celebrate by telling the Christmas story, hanging up our stockings, exchanging small gifts, and singing a few Christmas carols instead of sitting in uncomfortable silence for hours on end.
While we waited for dinner we sat in a circle in the living room, smiling and nodding at our hosts who smiled and nodded back. My father and Mr. Hassan and the relatives from Upper Egypt attempted to discuss Egyptian politics and history, but the conversation was stumbling and broken.
The rest of us just sat. Finally Mrs. Ali Hassan smiled at my mother and handed her the baby. My mother cuddled him and crooned to him and he gurgled back. Across the room I saw Mr. Hassan’s mother glance at them for a moment and then quickly look away. Most of the time she just stared shyly at the floor, almost as if she were afraid to look at us. Like many traditional Moslem women, she wore a black kerchief that covered her hair and part of her face. She seemed out of place in the modern apartment with its gilded furniture and television set.
At last dinner was served. We went into the dining room and there on the table was a huge turkey! I could hardly believe my eyes. Did the Hassans know that turkey was a Christmas tradition for many American families or was it just a coincidence? The table was loaded! There were meats, vegetables, rice and potato dishes, pickled lemons, a special green soup, and other foods. Mr. Hassan piled our plates with turkey, and the other dishes were passed around.
“Eat, please!” Mr. Hassan kept saying. “Do you not like our food?”
I ate until I was stuffed. I saw my mother and my sisters struggling to eat more than they wanted, to please the Hassans.
At last the dessert was brought in. There were sweet pastries and pudding and then fresh fruit that always comes at the end of a Middle Eastern meal. I took a tangerine and peeled it, and then I noticed that my seven-year-old sister Anne and my father seemed embarrassed. Try as they would, they could not cut or peel their fruit. Anne saw Mr. Hassan looking at her.
“You do not eat your fruit,” he said. “Do you not like it?”
“I can’t eat it,” Anne answered, grinning. “It’s not real fruit. It’s artificial.”
I looked around the table and realized that the Egyptian family had been waiting for this moment. Mr. Hassan’s mother started to laugh and then we all laughed. We laughed until we cried. When we moved back into the living room, we were all relaxed.
The rest of the evening passed quickly. Mom played singing games with the children until my sisters grew sleepy. Finally she signaled to Daddy that it was time to leave. As we started to say good-bye, Mr. Hassan said, “Please, wait a moment.”
Soon his mother appeared, carrying an ornate brass candlestick shaped like a cobra. She gave it to my mother and made a little speech that Mr. Hassan translated: “My mother wants you to have this candlestick. She says that now that she has met some Americans and knows that they are nice people, she will no longer weep for Mohammed.” Then Mr. Hassan explained that every day his mother cried for Mohammed because she didn’t know whether he was happy or if people in America were kind to him.
I saw tears in my mother’s eyes.
“Shukran, shukran (Thank-you, thank-you),” Mom said and hugged Mr. Hassan’s mother.
“Please tell your mother,” she said to Mr. Hassan, “that we will treasure this candlestick. It will remind us of your thoughtfulness and hospitality and help us remember that even without words people can communicate. Warmth and understanding and laughter can be shared by all people. We will never forget this Christmas Eve in Cairo that has been filled with the true spirit of Christmas.”
Then I realized that this was a joyful Christmas. Piles of presents and tinseled trees no longer seemed important.

President N. Eldon Tanner was known throughout much of his adult life as “Mister Integrity.” As minister in the government of Alberta, private businessman, and Church leader, he exemplified the highest ideals of honesty, honor, and superior character—“a man to match our mountains; tall, rugged, unyielding, immeasurable,” as President Kimball said of his beloved associate (“Civic, Business Leaders Honor President Tanner,” Church News, 1 April 1978, p. 6). On one occasion, while in government service in Canada, Brother Tanner stood to vote against his own party on a proposal he could not accept. Warned by colleagues that his vote could cost him his government post, Brother Tanner replied that he “would rather be out honorably than to be in voting against my principles” (G. Homer Durham, N. Eldon Tanner, His Life and Service [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1982], p. 106; emphasis in original).

When Brother Tanner retired from government service, a Calgary newspaper article of the time commented:
For the general good sense of the government’s oil policies, most of the credit must go to Hon. Nathan Tanner, whose impending resignation from the Cabinet will be received everywhere with genuine regret. . . . We have not always agreed with him, but we respect him; and now, on his departure, we sincerely wish him well. [Durham, Tanner, p. 107]
At a retirement banquet in his honor, in response to the tributes paid him, Brother Tanner spoke with characteristic modesty and simplicity of the philosophy that guided his life: “The service we give is the price we pay for the privilege of living in this world. The type of service we give will determine the kind of world we will live in” (Durham, Tanner, p. 108).

Finally, let me tell you about a Hong Kong, China, couple and their love of the temple. They fell in love and wanted very much to be sealed in the temple but it appeared impossible. Non-member parents did not offer encouragement and were not willing to assist in financing the trip. Knowing that the closest temple was some distance away they felt helpless. They were in love. They desperately wanted to marry. They discussed all possibilities. All alternatives were considered and rejected. Their love of the temple was stronger than all of the obstacles. Ultimately, they came upon an idea. They decided to become engaged and begin saving their money. To hasten that day they adopted a plan. They would arrange for a date, but instead of going out they would each put the money they would have spent on the date and any other extra money they might have into their temple fund. They waited about five years before they finally were married in the temple. Yes, they loved the temple.

Matt and Margaret (all names have been changed) turned off the television following the concluding session of general conference. The messages had been inspiring, and they had enjoyed the positive atmosphere that had permeated their home that weekend.
Nobody could have been more disappointed than Matt and Margaret were when, less than 24 hours later, they were having a heated argument over whether to save an unexpected bonus Matt had received at work or spend it on school clothes for the older kids. The debate was not resolved, and Matt and Margaret each moved on to other tasks feeling misunderstood.
To create a lasting, happy marriage, couples must learn how to resolve conflicts so that each individual feels understood and decisions are made that involve acceptable compromise.
Scriptures and words of prophets and apostles provide ample cautions about contention. In 3 Nephi we read, “He that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention” (3 Nephi 11:29). Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught that Satan “works to drive a wedge of disharmony between a father and a mother. He entices children to be disobedient to their parents. … Satan knows that the surest and most effective way to disrupt the Lord’s work is to diminish the effectiveness of the family and the sanctity of the home.”1
Differences of opinion, habit, or background are inevitable, but we have ample resources to help us know how to cope. Doctrine and instruction taught in Sunday worship and Church publications can help and can be supplemented with quality professional information as needed. Couples can learn methods for dealing with conflict. Inspiration can lead to changing hearts that soften each spouse from the inside.
President Thomas S. Monson cautioned: “Some of our greatest opportunities to demonstrate our love will be within the walls of our own homes. Love should be the very heart of family life, and yet sometimes it is not. There can be too much impatience, too much arguing, too many fights, too many tears.”2
When troubles persist and become destructive to family life, there can be more serious causes of conflict, including immaturity, selfishness, desire to win power struggles, and pride. President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) taught, “I have long felt that the greatest factor in a happy marriage is an anxious concern for the comfort and well-being of one’s companion. In most cases selfishness is the leading factor that causes argument, separation, divorce, and broken hearts.”3
Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–94) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles also commented: “When one considers the bad feeling and the unpleasantness caused by contention, it is well to ask, ‘Why do I participate?’ …
“… It is important to recognize that we choose our behavior. At the root of this issue is the age-old problem of pride.”4
Whatever the cause, we need to learn new skills and soften our hearts when problems persist.
There are many causes of conflict, ranging from superficial personal biases to deeper ingrained communication styles. In addition to overcoming selfishness and immaturity, couples will face other common causes of conflict including such factors as the following:
Newlyweds learning to adjust to one another’s styles
Natural differences between men and women
Edginess prompted by exhaustion
Different opinions on how to best raise children or manage finances
Children learning to use agency
Different likes and dislikes
Overreactions to stress
Lack of understanding or skill in resolving conflict
Many marital or family conflicts arise because of uncontrolled anger. If we’re not careful, we can follow an angry incident with constant thinking about how we were wronged. The longer we ruminate the more reasons we can generate to justify our perspective. This brooding can prevent us from calming down, and when a second wave of anger emerges before the first is resolved, hormonal reactions can lead to additional outbursts.
For example, in a counseling session, Marilyn described how frustrating it had been to lie in bed after she and her husband had yelled at each other. “I knew I was in the right,” she said. “I knew he was going to flip on the light and apologize, but he never did. The more I thought about it, the madder I got. When I heard him start to snore, I couldn’t stand it—I jumped out of bed and yelled at him some more and then went downstairs. Can you believe that he still didn’t apologize?” Marilyn’s experience is a good example of how not to deal with angry feelings.
Habits, even short-term ones, can seem hard to break. But spouses can learn skills to help. Here are some useful practices:
Challenge thoughts quickly. In our example, Marilyn could have said to herself, “It seems like I’m right, but I’m blowing it out of proportion. My relationship with my husband matters more to me than what we’re arguing about.”
Allow your emotions to calm before you try tackling a problem. Wait out the chemical reaction that may be taking place.
Find a distraction. Choose to think about something else or take a walk.
Write down your thoughts. For some, this helps to increase self-awareness.
Let it out in productive ways. Yelling about your feelings won’t help you “get it out of your system.” The more you vent in an angry manner, the more intense your feelings will become.
Listen to calming music or read uplifting literature.
Start over. Catch yourself in the beginning of a disagreement. Research has shown that the first three to five minutes of a conversation lays the foundation for what is likely to follow. Say, “This is going in a bad direction. Let’s start over.”
Strengthening Marriage, an LDS Family Services’ manual, recommends three steps for resolving conflict: (1) expressing views, (2) exploring concerns, and (3) selecting mutually satisfying solutions.5 These steps are based on a communication and sharing model that is cooperative and addresses the issues of all concerned.
Each individual shares views in an honest but non-attacking manner. Sometimes thoughtful reflection resolves the problem as it becomes clear the disagreement was merely a misunderstanding. For example, a wife who thinks her husband is selfishly insisting that she attend a high school basketball game with him instead of going out to dinner for a date, might come to understand that he is less interested in basketball than in showing attention to a player who has stopped attending his Sunday School class.
Couples explore concerns at a deeper level. The focus is on understanding and accepting one another’s concerns. Continuing the basketball example, the wife, while understanding her husband’s concern for the student, might believe that he is developing a pattern of always putting the needs of others before those of the marriage. In this case, a more thoughtful discussion must be held in which each expresses feelings in a sensitive manner and opposition gives way to cooperation.
Couples brainstorm and decide on mutually satisfying solutions. The focus is on what each individual can do to address the concerns rather than on what their spouse can do. Such negotiation can test maturity and patience but, over time, lead to a belief that there is safety in expressing feelings and confidence that each person’s desires will be addressed. Our couple may agree to spend one Friday night together at a basketball game, one Friday night in which the husband attends the game alone, and two Friday nights doing couple activities. It is not as important how the couple chooses to spend Friday night as it is that the quality of the decision-making process is satisfying to both.
Wonderful blessings flow from resolving conflicts in an atmosphere of love. These include security; personal growth, which leads to inner peace; increased faith; enhanced character; and personal righteousness.
When conflicts are resolved, new patterns can take their place. The door then opens for spouses to express positive thoughts and demonstrate support. Sister Jean B. Bingham, Relief Society General President, said: “Words have surprising power, both to build up and to tear down. We can all probably remember negative words that brought us low and other words spoken with love that made our spirits soar. Choosing to say only that which is positive about—and to—others lifts and strengthens those around us and helps others follow in the Savior’s way.”6
Couples who have made long-term progress in resolving conflict reap desirable rewards. A husband of a previously troubled relationship said, “It’s hard for me to look back on how it used to be and believe that it was real. How could I have treated my wife the way I did? I’m grateful for the Spirit getting my attention and for the patience my wife has shown to me.”
Overcoming conflict takes conscious effort and follow-through. The very next thing you say or do can start more positive communication patterns in your marriage. You too can reap the fruits of the Spirit as experienced by the Nephites: “There was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people.
“And there were no envyings, nor strifes, nor tumults … ; and surely there could not be a happier people” (4 Nephi 1:15–16).

There is something very sacred about the time of birth. I remember so clearly the coming forth of each of my own children. My firstborn came after three years of desperate waiting. He was very small, only five pounds. I felt so responsible. It seemed like such a miracle and there was a great surge of gratitude. Now I had a baby of my very own. With each child came a sharper realization of life’s challenges and possibilities. Rocking my babies to sleep, I sang them the lullabies which came to my lips—soft, private words, carrying my dreams for their future. I have marveled at this miracle of potential that we cradle in our arms: the ultimate of creation, a human child.

Because of financial struggles, one sister had to move from her beloved home and ward after living there for 22 years. That was painful. Of her first Sunday in her new ward, she said: “I felt very alone, even though I knew a few people. I was one of the first to Relief Society that morning. I sat there and watched the sisters file in and take their seats. They all seemed to need their own row, not just their own seat. They didn’t sit by each other and they didn’t sit by me. I felt like an island.” Sisters, why do we do that to each other?! The sister continued: “Then Lisa came in. Her face lit up when she saw me and she charged over to me, popped down beside me, put her arm around me and gave me a big hug. It’s amazing how much a small gesture like that can mean. Her warmth”—and I would add, her love—“washed away my loneliness.”

I was visiting with a neighbor’s family that had traveled to Salt Lake City for the holidays. I asked how they liked their ward in their distant city, and Hanna said, “Cary likes it, but I don’t. Sister Jack, I’m having a hard time. I’m the only Hispanic in the ward, and they are not friendly to me. They ignore me in the hallways, and sometimes I don’t go at all.”

My heart went out to this usually happy and gregarious woman. I said, “Be patient with them. Maybe you are there to help them learn understanding, and it will take time.”

Sometimes our pattern and response to difficulty is to circumvent the situation rather than to step back and try to learn from it. We become immersed in the circumstances and lose sight of the long-range goal. A better approach is to do what we can, being “steadfast and immovable in keeping the commandments” and carrying in our hearts the assurance that the Lord is with us and that our patience will turn the tide.

A short time ago little Ruby was born into our family. As I looked into her sweet face, I marveled at the knowledge that before she came to earth, she lived in the presence of our Heavenly Father. She had accepted His great plan of happiness and chose to follow Him and Jesus Christ, our Savior. Because of her decision, she was permitted to come to earth to experience mortality and progress toward eternal life. With her spirit united with her body, Ruby has entered a time of learning in which she can prove herself, choose to follow Christ, and prepare to be worthy of eternal life.
Ruby came to this earth pure, but as part of the plan, she will face trials and temptations and she will make mistakes. Through our Savior’s Atonement, however, Ruby can be forgiven, receive a fulness of joy, and be pure again—ready to live forever in the presence of our Heavenly Father.
A few hours after her birth, I was privileged to hold this precious child in my arms. I said to her mother, "Oh, we have to teach Ruby how to be a virtuous woman, pure and priceless as her name implies."
Her mother replied, "I am starting today."

While we were growing up in a small community, my father saw the need for my brother and me to learn the principle of work. As a result, he put us to work on a small farm on the edge of town where he had been raised. He ran the local newspaper, so he could not spend much time with us except early in the morning and in the evening. That was quite a responsibility for two young teenagers, and sometimes we made mistakes.
Our small farm was surrounded by other farms, and one of the farmers went in to see my father one day to tell him the things he thought we were doing wrong. My father listened to him carefully and then said, “Jim, you don’t understand. You see, I’m raising boys and not cows.” After my father’s death, Jim told us his story. How grateful I was for a father who decided to raise boys, and not cows. In spite of the mistakes, we learned how to work on that little farm, and I guess, although they didn’t say it in so many words, we always knew we were more important to Mother and Father than the cows or, for that matter, anything else.

In 1846 thousands of saints left their homes and their gardens and their memories in Nauvoo the Beautiful and headed into the mud. It would have been easier to stay behind (and some chose to do just that), but they dreamed of “the place which God for us prepared, /far way, in the West.” It was not any place, but the place, the right place, and this place was prepared for them. It was also far away; this wasn’t going to be easy (but it was going to be worth it). Some murmured. All suffered. Some quit. Some participated in miracles. A few died (“Happy day! All is well”). Eventually, they arrived at the land that God had promised them. Though “hard to you this journey may appear, /Grace shall be as your day.” That last phrase is key: “Grace shall be as your day.” My wife’s and my several greats grandmother, Karen Marie, crossed an ocean (like Nephi), then crossed a desert (like Nephi) and buried four of her children along the way, pulling a handcart to Zion. Her daughter remembered,
I remember my mother was always very sad. Her face was stern and determined. She often explained to us girls that we would soon be safe in the great city of the Rocky Mountains. Little did she or we realize the terrible hardships we would face on that journey. I walked all the way from the Missouri River to the Salt Lake Valley. Nights when we made camp, my feet were often bleeding and sore, but through the kind and loving care of my mother, I was ready to march the next day. Her unfaltering faith, courage, determination and her tremendous capacity for work made possible that long and hazardous journey.
“Grace shall be as your day.” Grace is as dependable as the daily sunrise, even though we sometimes take it for granted. “Our God will never us forsake.” Grace is designed for murmurers and the imperfect, that is, for all of us. “I have graven thee on the palms of my hands.” No wonder “All is well.”

My family and many Filipino Saints went through a similar conversion process. When we accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ and joined the Church, we changed our ways and our culture to align to the gospel. We had to let go of wrong traditions. I saw this in my father when he learned of the gospel and repented. He was a heavy smoker, but he threw his cigarettes away and never touched one again. Because of his decision to change, four generations from him have been blessed.

I was raised in the home of a patriarch; my father was called to be a patriarch when he was 33. The first blessings he gave were to us boys. I was eight years old. There were three of us, and if you would take those three blessings today—I did it the other day—and lay them down side by side, and you knew us boys, and you couldn’t see the names on the blessings, you would not have any difficulty whatever in fitting the blessings to each of us.
My father told me at the age of eight years that I did not come here upon the earth by chance, but in fulfillment of the decrees of the Almighty. He then proceeded to tell me something of the work I had to do in the establishment of God’s kingdom. This blessing has been an inspiration to me ever since, and my constant prayer to the Lord has been that I might live worthily so that any event of His providence concerning me would never have to pass by because I had been unworthy to do the work He had for me to do.