Gospel Story Finder

Before he came to the missionary training center, he was discussing with a missionary about temple work. The thought came to him that his parents had given him life and done everything for him, and this was something he could do for them. He printed the temple ordinance cards and brought them with him. Elder John had the opportunity to attend the temple and to do the necessary ordinances for his mother and father. On 12 December 2023, Elder John was able to participate in having his parents sealed together, and he was then sealed to his parents. He felt as if his mother was asking him again “Brother Isaiah, do you know that this Church is the perfect Church?”
In his mind he, once again, answered “Yes, mom, I love the Church and know it is true.”
He knows that someday they will all be together, and that brings him great joy and peace.

After she had told us what happened, she seemed relieved and said she would go with us if we really wanted her to. We were impressed by her courage and agreed that she should come.
The evening of the discussion arrived, and my companion and I made our way up the dirt pathway leading to the Sanchez home. Sister Sanchez met us at the doorway, disapproval lining her face. “I do not want my daughter returning to that horrible place,” she told us emphatically. We didn’t know what to say, but Mirian did. We listened in silence as she bore testimony to her mother that she knew there was a special reason she must go with us. Reluctantly, Sister Sanchez consented, but only with our solemn promise that we would return immediately if there were any problems.
Unfortunately, it turned out that Rosa’s family was not interested in hearing about the Church. As we turned away, Mirian began to tell us about the other families in the neighborhood, including a man she had dated for a while. Although she hadn’t realized it when she started dating him, he was a very worldly person with some bad habits. The Spirit touched me, and I insisted that Mirian take us to see him. Even though she was extremely hesitant, she guided us down a path to the home where Luiz lived with his parents and son. Upon answering the door he seemed quite surprised to see us, but invited us in and listened intently to the message we gave him. After we completed the formal discussion, he told us of his recent desire to join the true church of God, but he did not know which one it was or how to find it. He had already been going through the preliminary steps of repentance but felt the need of something more. He declared to us that his heart was telling him we were indeed representatives of the Lord’s true church. He was baptized a week later.

Nearly a year ago, in Pasadena, California, Sister Janice Burgoyne was dying of cancer. She had shared generously of herself and was dearly loved. Her Relief Society sisters were bringing her meals, cleaning her house, caring for her two young sons, helping her husband plan a funeral. It was hard for Janice to receive so much help, knowing that her sisters would find that piece of old toast behind the couch. She worried her sisters would know more than her heart. But because her sisters knew her heart, it didn’t matter. They provided car pools, tutored homework, played her piano, changed bedding. And they did it day after day after day, without complaint, with boundless charity. Such sharing forever changed those sisters. Before she died, Janice turned to a Relief Society sister and asked with gratitude and awe, “How does anyone die without Relief Society?”

I’ve chosen a small selection from the Teacher Development Program to give one tiny example of understanding:
A man was putting up a sign “Puppies for Sale,” and before he had driven the last nail, there was a small boy standing by his side. That kind of sign seems to attract small boys. The youngster wanted to know how much the puppies were going to cost. The man told him that they were very good dogs, and he did not expect to let any of them go for less than $35 or $40. There was a look of disappointment and then a question:

“I’ve got $2.37. Could I look at them?”

The man whistled and called, “Lady.” And out of the kennel and down the runway came Lady followed by four or five little balls of fur with one lagging considerably behind.

The boy spotted the laggard and, pointing, asked, “What’s wrong with him?” The reply was that the veterinarian had said that there was no hip socket in the right hip, and that dog would always be lame.

The boy’s immediate rejoinder was, “That’s the one I want to buy. I’ll give you $2.37 down, and fifty cents a month until I get him paid for.”

The man smiled and shook his head. “That’s not the dog you want. That dog will never be able to run and jump and play with you.”

The boy very matter-of-factly pulled up his trouser leg and revealed a brace running up both sides of his badly twisted right leg and over the foot, with a leather cap over the knee. “I don’t run so well myself,” he said, “and he’ll need someone that understands him.”

Among the many phonograph records we have at our home, none is as much enjoyed by our grandchildren as a record given to me in Korea that features singing by a chorus of little Korean orphan girls. The music is beautiful!
Soldiers serving in Korea often have spare time. Many of them waste this time, but a young man from Blanding, Utah, named Stan Bronson was not one of them. He decided instead to do some good with his extra hours, so he visited an orphanage where little orphan girls lived. Stan played his guitar and sang to them, and they were delighted with his music. Since the Koreans have beautiful voices, these girls soon joined Stan in singing. In no time he was the leader of a wonderful chorus of children.
These little girls sang to us at a Sunday meeting held in the chapel of the army base on the outskirts of Seoul, Korea. As they sang, I could scarcely hold back the tears. I watched Stan lead these beautiful girls, and I thought of Jesus’ statement, “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God” (Mark 10:14).
Among the songs they sang, I enjoyed most a song I learned as a little boy in Primary, “Give, Said the Little Stream.” They sang the first verse in English, the second verse in Korean, and then the third verse again in English. I would like to give you the words of that third verse:
Give, then for Jesus give;
Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.
Give, then for Jesus give;
There is something all can give.
Do as the streams and blossoms do,
For God and others live.
I have often thought of these words and of this young soldier who gave to help others and of the marvelous way in which the lives of these little children were brightened by his talent. Under his leadership, the girls gave of their talents to brighten the lives of others.
Truly, as the song says, “There is something all can give. Do as the streams and blossoms do, For God and others live.”

My Grandfather Rose was very ill with heart problems. To help my grandmother with his care, our family decided that we would take turns sleeping at my grandparents’ house to help out. My mother and my aunts went over most often, but one weekend I asked if I could spend the night.
I was reclining in a chair next to my grandfather’s bed. He was sleeping well that night, which was unusual. I was just falling asleep myself when my granddad rolled over and said, “Carl, shape up.” Then he rolled back over and went back to sleep.
I didn’t know what he meant. I wasn’t a bad kid. But I wasn’t able to fall asleep the rest of the night. I stayed up thinking about what my granddad meant by telling me to “shape up.”
I thought about his words for the next few days, trying to figure out what I needed to shape up in my life. A few days later, I went again to my grandparents’ home to rub my grandfather’s back. I finished that and sat down to talk to my grandma. She said, “Carl, Granddad prays that you will gain the desire to serve a mission for the Lord.”
Later that night I was working at my gymnastics exercises. I heard my coach yelling at me to concentrate. I was so caught up thinking about the conversation that I had with my grandma and the decision I had to make that it was hard for me to work out. I was torn between a college scholarship for gymnastics and a mission.
As I was lying in bed later that night, I thought back to my granddad saying, “Carl, shape up.” I thought about whether my priorities were where they should be. They weren’t. I realized that my number-one priority was gymnastics, not the Lord and his work. I finally figured out what my granddad meant. He meant that I needed to shape up my soul and my mind. The only way to do that was to start going to seminary and church.
Not long after I began to “shape up,” I read the Book of Mormon for the first time in my life. As I did, I took the prophet Moroni’s advice and prayed about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith. Through these exercises, I not only gained the desire to serve a mission, but I also found the light and life of the world, Jesus Christ.

Haven, a 14-year-old from Utah, USA, decided to celebrate being a young woman in the Church by serving others.
“It started as a small idea,” she says. “My uncle went to Bangladesh on a humanitarian trip and learned about difficult things the people there were experiencing. I wanted to help them—so I looked on the JustServe app and got the idea to make homemade kits for the refugees there.”
Haven collected donations at her school, created a GoFundMe page, and even took out neighbors’ garbage cans to help raise money for the kits. “I take out about 22 garbage cans and 11 recycle cans every Monday and Tuesday,” she says. “I normally use the money I earn for my choir program and to save for a mission, but I decided to use my funds that month to help buy supplies instead.”
Haven then went out and bought all the materials she needed for the kits, including socks, gloves, scarfs, and hats. She assembled each kit and also got in contact with the director of Lifting Hands International to coordinate the delivery of the kits in Bangladesh.
“Putting the kits together took up the most time in my project. But every time I put a piece into the kit, I knew that it would go to someone in need and that they would be blessed for a long time by it.”
By the end of her project, Haven felt her confidence build in her ability to serve. “I learned from this how much help I can be if I try my hardest. I also felt compassion for the people I was helping, which helped me feel closer to the Savior and feel some of what He feels for us.”
As we celebrate the anniversary of the Young Women organization, each of us can remember that we are examples of Christ. Like Haven, we can be a big help to others when we try our hardest to serve as He would.

I once had an experience that taught me the importance of going to the Lord for help. It was in January 1952, during the Korean conflict. My battalion had been firing our guns for many hours. Eventually, there was a break, and we laid down in our bunker to get some rest. Soon I was fast asleep.

The next thing I knew, a mail clerk stood over me, thrusting a letter from my bishop into my hand. I learned that my father had had surgery, and that his abdomen was filled with cancer. No one expected him to live more than two weeks. The bishop told me that arrangements had been made to fly me home and instructed me to contact the Red Cross.

I took the letter to a Red Cross representative, who verified the seriousness of my father’s condition. But by the time they had made contact, my father had passed away. I was informed that because he had already died, no useful purpose would be served by sending me home.

When I returned to my unit, they were in the middle of another firing mission. I felt angry and bitter and deeply hurt. Feeling desperate, I slipped off to a small grove of trees and dropped to my knees. I pleaded with the Lord to release me from those terrible feelings. Soon my whole bosom filled with the most peaceful feeling I had ever felt. It spread into my whole body, and I felt assured that all was well.

My second mission president was a former fighter pilot, but as a Church leader, he was tenderhearted and sensitive, filled with Christlike love for his fellow servants. While I was an assistant to him, I felt that some missionaries were abusing certain privileges and taking advantage of his kindness. I suggested we create stricter rules with stronger enforcement. He said he felt it would be better to trust the missionaries to choose the right rather than doubting their intentions. From this role model, I learned to follow Joseph Smith’s advice to teach correct principles and let people govern themselves.

I too would like to give a special thanks to Jamie Glenn and Rayna Jones for being “in tune” with the Spirit when they composed the beautiful “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,” which was published in the April 1979 New Era. This song contributed much happiness, serenity, and peace of mind to my dear friend Lorna Smith during the last year of her life.
In May of 1981 Lorna had her first operation for cancer. The family was told that life expectancy for this type of cancer was about four months. However, she was given chemotherapy and her health improved. One year later, in May 1982, she became very ill again. One Sunday morning before she was taken back to the hospital, I was visiting her when she told me about hearing this song at a Relief Society function. It had so touched her heart that she had asked Kris Taylor, the sister who had sung it, to record it for her so that she might listen to it at home. This had been done, and that Sunday the two of us listened to it and shed tears as we heard the words, “He’s closer than you know—reach up, He’ll take your hand.” Lorna sent a copy of the tape to Nebraska to be played to her 92-year-old mother and aged aunt who are not members of the Church. She also shared the song with her daughters whom she wanted to realize that they are truly daughters of God.
She had another operation that May 1982, and the new growth was found to be inoperable. She was again given about four months to live. Her treatment was changed and she lived another 13 months, during which she had the privilege of enjoying the arrival of two new grandchildren. Throughout this last year of her life she often listened to “her song.” The words gave her strength, hope, and courage. Her display of these qualities touched the lives of many.
In May of 1983 she again became so ill that her digestive system could not tolerate even water. Another operation disclosed several cancerous blockages in her intestines. During this lengthy stay at the hospital I took a tape to her on which the Gunderson sisters had recorded some special songs for her. One of them was “Walk Tall.” As it was playing there in the hospital room, a nurse came in singing the words. She told us that this song was also special to her. She had heard it and sung it on her mission. This seemed to create an understanding between her and Lorna.
The cancer spread to Lorna’s liver, and she died at home on June 28, 1983. As I stood there by her, in my mind I could hear and feel the impact of the words, “He’s closer than you know—reach up, He’ll take your hand.”
Her special song was sung beautifully at her funeral by the Gunderson sisters, and on her headstone, as a reminder to her children and grandchildren, is engraved “WALK TALL, YOU‘RE A DAUGHTER OF GOD.”
Dorothy M. BolinderGrantsville, Utah

The activity day girls from the Lake Hills Ward, Billings Montana East Stake, learned about modesty and the importance of showing respect for your body. They even made their own modest skirts! The girls got to choose the fabric; then they sewed the skirts with help from their mothers and other women in their ward. The girls then planned a special dinner with their mothers, and they modeled the skirts in a fashion show. Many of the girls wore their skirts to church, and one even wore hers to a piano recital. “Dressing modestly makes me feel good,” said Elizabeth R. Learning about the importance of modesty helped the girls be courageous in maintaining their standards.

After the accident, Grandpa traveled in several neighboring states representing a coal distribution company, taking orders and collecting money. Many a hitchhiker found himself riding in Grandpa’s car, sharing his lunch and his philosophy of life.
Sometimes Grandpa’s generosity got him in trouble. A hitchhiker once pulled out a gun and tried to rob him. Grandpa said, “I have only the money in my wallet. Take that and go.”
Apparently the man knew that Grandpa collected money from the coal company’s customers and was expecting to find a few thousand dollars. But after a thorough search of every possible hiding place in the car, all he got was a five-dollar bill from Grandpa’s wallet. After letting out the frustrated thief at the edge of town, Grandpa chuckled and drove away—with ten thousand dollars in collection money tucked safely inside his artificial legs!

In Belfast, in Northern Ireland, I had two roommates—girls of another faith whom I had met through a mutual friend. None of us had any extra money. Carol and Anne were both midwifery students, and I was saving for a postgraduate nursing course.
Our apartment was rather unpleasant, but it was all we could afford.
Nevertheless, Carol and Anne decided to call the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and offer to give a Christmas party for twelve needy children. Of course, I agreed to help with the work and the financing as did Carol’s sister, Marian.
I had seen some of the miseries of the slums. The most poignant thing I remembered was a little girl in a torn summer dress sitting on the cold, windy sidewalk molding a lump of filthy clay because she had no other toy. I could not now find and help that child, but I could try to help some others.
Our Christmas tree was sixty centimeters high, decorated with nine small glass balls, strips of tinfoil, and a star we had made from the wrapping foil inside a cereal box. For decoration, we had strips of colored paper hanging from the ceiling, and some balloons. The food was simple—fried potatoes and sausages, grilled tomatoes, cookies, and an orange drink. The twelve gifts were small and inexpensive: a string of plastic beads, a doll’s feeding set, a young child’s picture book, small toys and games. And, remembering the girl on the sidewalk, I bought a package of modeling clay.
The children arrived looking as clean as they could, and wearing the best clothes they had, most of it well-worn and ragged. Mentally I counted, eleven, twelve, thirteen! One of the girls had come with her tiny sister, who had refused to stay home. That presented us with a problem.
In those days my annual project for the Relief Society bazaar was making clothes for little plastic dolls for girls to play with. Several of the dolls were in my room. I quickly wrapped one of them in the last scrap of tissue paper for our extra guest and hurriedly put it by the Christmas tree.
Most of the children stood in a group at the door, but one determined boy about eight years old examined all the gifts through the thin wrapping paper.
“If you don’t mind, Miss,” he declared “I’ll have this game of table soccer for me and my friends.”
Carol smiled but was firm.
“We’re giving out the presents at the end of the party. Right now we’re going to play some games.”
We played their games; they played our games. We told stories; they related past experiences. We sang songs, although we adults grew tired of singing some of their favorites over and over again.
“Last year,” announced the oldest girl, trying hard to be sophisticated in an ill-fitting dress and high-heeled shoes much too large for her twelve-year-old body, “I was to a party in a big hall. Hundreds of us there was, and a Christmas tree that touched the ceiling.”
“Was it good?” asked a slightly envious voice.
“It wasn’t. No one had time to talk with us like these good ladies are doing.”
We served the simple food, which first brought forth cries of delight and then the silence of serious eating.
“You’ve left some food on your plate,” objected one boy to his neighbor.
“I can’t eat it,” she replied. “I’ve never had so much food on my plate at one time.”
“Give it to me, then, for it’s a shame to waste good food.”
He ate the leftovers on some of the other children’s plates, too, but finally was too full to eat any more.
We gave him the table soccer game. We gave the twelve-year-old girl the plastic beads. We gave the doll’s feeding set to a seven-year-old girl.
But, “It’s no use to me, Miss,” she said. “I don’t have a doll.”
So I got out another of the Relief Society’s plastic dolls. This time it was wrapped in writing paper, and we pretended it had fallen behind the tree.
“It’s the best party I was ever at,” someone announced with satisfaction. “I felt right at home.”
“Indeed it was grand, Miss,” seconded another voice, “For whenever any of us wanted something, one of you ladies was near to help.”
I thought then that I had learned something about giving, but I was shortly to learn more. The twelve-year-old, I noticed, had traded her beads for the clay, the clay for the toy car, the toy car for the baby’s picture book.
“It will be all right,” she said, trying to rewrap it, although the used wrapping tape wouldn’t stick too well any more.
“Would you have a piece of string, Miss? And a pencil, please?”
I gave her the string and the pencil, wondering what she wanted them for. She tied the parcel awkwardly, and in large uneven letters she printed on it “TOMMY.”
She saw me looking and she explained: “It’s for my little brother, Miss. Nobody invited him to a party, and we can’t afford a present for him.”
The beauty and love of that little girl’s spirit shone through the ill-fitting clothes and continues to shine through the years as an example to me.

I recall as a young man when I first heard our text quoted from the Doctrine and Covenants, I went to my own mother and exclaimed, “Well, Mom, how does it feel to have all my sins on your head?” Then she taught me the lesson of that passage. She said, “Ah, Paul, you forgot to read carefully what the Lord said. He said that the sin be upon the head of parents if they do not teach their children the principles of the gospel. And you’ve been taught!”

And I had been taught! Thank the Lord for parents who realize their responsibility to instill in their children the principles of the gospel and who follow the counsel of the Lord’s prophets. Parents in the Church today have been counseled to regularly, consistently, and inspiringly hold family home evenings and to take advantage of other great teaching moments to so acquaint their children.

Five years ago, I started a journey towards finishing my post-graduate studies in agriculture, specialising in plant breeding. I was offered a bursary from a prominent research institute in South Africa. Despite the challenge of raising a family, I embraced this dream. From a young age I have always been drawn to outdoor activities that had to do with touching soil and planting greens. Growing up in Mozambique, I used to love working with my grandmother on her small plot on the outskirts of Beira where she planted, amongst other things, sweet potato and rice. I cherish those memories and hold them very close to my heart.
When I embarked on the journey to become a plant breeder, I was on track to finish my studies and graduate in the winter of 2020. I had endless dreams of how perfect life was going to be. Looking at the demand for such scarce skills in the industry in previous years, I was really excited for the new possibilities that were unfolding before me. I had been a freelance language and media consultant for most of my working career. I was looking forward to finally being able to work in research and applying the skills that I had been acquiring in my studies.
With the rapid spread of the COVID-19 pandemic in South Africa, it became clear that although I had submitted my thesis at the end of 2019, I was not going to make it for the winter graduation as I had hoped. The most important thing for me was not the graduation ceremony, but to be able to complete the degree and to get a good job. I knew that it would take time to find the kind of job that I was looking for—I sent out one job application, then two—and eventually there were so many sent that I lost count.
This experience taught me some valuable lessons: some of our plans in life do not unfold exactly how we wish them to. Here, a year later, I am still searching for that dream job. This is not just for me, but my immediate family and society in general also have high expectations for someone with an academic degree like mine.
Upon meeting a friend, she asked how things were going in my life and if I had been able to find a job. I replied that I had not yet found one. We talked about several things. As I drove home, I was reflecting upon my lifestyle and my state of mind during the pandemic. I then realized how the hands of the Lord had blessed me. When thinking back I was able to pick up on the many skills that I had gained and the amount of time I had been able to spend with my family. There were simply too many small miracles to count. I had been able to afford my basic needs. I took my budget before COVID-19 and readjusted it. With more time on my hands, I was drawn to my passion of working the land. I planted a vegetable garden, the kids and I learned how to mow the lawn and to trim trees—the list is endless. Today our vegetable garden feeds us most of our greens, such as spinach, lettuce and rocket. We find meaningful time to play and work as a family. We enjoy to going on short night walks in our neighbourhood.
As I reflect upon my experiences in the past nine months—despite not having the things that I dreamed of—I have been generally content. I see more good around me than bad. I have gained a deeper understanding of trusting in the Lord’s timing. He knows what is best and has better plans for me and for my family. As I count my blessings, I have come to realise that the Lord is in control of many aspects of my life. He knows me individually and I matter to Him. He cares for our righteous desires. He wants us to trust Him and to be happy. I have come to know that with all my heart.
Sonia Naidoo is a member of the Centurion 1st Ward in the South Africa Centurion Stake, where she serves as a counselor in the Primary presidency.

I recall in my own ministry joining with members of the Holladay Seventh Ward in the spring of 1956 as we gathered on the hillside near Mount Olympus. Under the direction of our stake president, G. Carlos Smith, we broke ground for the construction of a new ward building. At the time the ward was created, we had a total of 373 members. As I recall, more than half of them were under the age of twelve. I served as second counselor to Bishop William Partridge. Under his leadership this little band of people proceeded immediately to build a three-phase ward building.
The ward was divided in 1958, and I was named bishop of the Holladay Twelfth Ward. In those days, local members paid 50 percent of the cost of constructing a building. One of the most important leadership experiences in my life came several weeks before the announced dedication of the building. Our ward of young families, who were struggling to make ends meet, needed to raise the final $30,000 required to pay our share of the cost. I fasted and prayed, asking for help from Heavenly Father to know what I should say to our ward members regarding this obligation. We already had pressed them very hard, and they had willingly contributed money and personal labor beyond anything I believed possible. But still we needed to raise the last $30,000.
As the brethren gathered for priesthood meeting, I was impressed to read to them the testimony my Grandfather Ballard bore to the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve on January 7, 1919, the day he was ordained an Apostle. I quote just a small portion of his testimony.
The Spirit of the Lord touched our hearts. Very little else was said because this small group of faithful people also knew in their own way that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that He is our Savior and our Redeemer. We all knew that with greater faith in Him, we could reach our goal. During that same day, family after family came to my office with money, making personal sacrifices that were far beyond what I, the bishop, would ever have asked of them. By eight o’clock Sunday evening, the ward clerk had written receipts for a little more than $30,000.
Sacrifice truly brought forth the blessings of heaven to the members of our ward. Never have I lived among people who were more united, more caring, more concerned for one another than these ward members were when making their greatest sacrifice. In the midst of this effort, the sick of our ward were healed through priesthood blessings. The youth committed to live righteously. The young men set their goals to be fully worthy to serve missions, and most of them did; and the young women resolved to settle for nothing but a worthy temple marriage. Sisters of the Relief Society found great joy in rendering compassionate service to others, and home teaching and visiting teaching were completed every month in the spirit of joy and service. In the midst of our greatest sacrifice, our ward members became bonded together in the true spirit of the gospel of love and service.

Sometimes, however, boats aren’t necessary. In one village on the island, for example, Sammyo L., Vanessa W., Desleen L., Carleen M., Emtalyn W., and Jemi A. simply walk to the meetinghouse, where Emtalyn’s mother, Tasiana, teaches seminary. One topic that comes up often in class is the temple.

Tasiana, Emtalyn, and their family of 12 are preparing to go to the temple to be sealed. Because their assigned temple is more than 2,100 miles (3,380 km) away in the Philippines and transportation is expensive, going there has been a lifelong goal. As they talk in seminary about their dream that’s about to come true, the other students reflect on how they’ve made it their own goal to be sealed in the house of the Lord someday.

Twenty-three boys in the Ontario First Ward, Nyssa Oregon Stake, earned the rank of Eagle in the same year.
It all started when their Scoutmaster, Glen Banner, challenged them to make it a “Year of the Eagle.” The troop set a goal to complete their Eagles before the year was up. Each had to set intermediate goals, and each encouraged and reminded his friends of their common goal. Several mothers made a banner proclaiming the “Year of the Eagle” and this banner was displayed at each court of honor and all Scout activities.
As the 23 boys were ready to participate in their Eagle projects, the Scoutmaster contacted the mayor to offer the time and talents of his Scouts. In total, this single troop donated more than 2,000 hours of service to their community, doing such things as renovating playground equipment, planting shrubs, marking a segment of the Oregon Trail, and volunteering for other community service.
When their goal had been reached, a special program was held honoring the troop. The mayor made a proclamation, and special speakers were Elder Paul H. Dunn, of the First Quorum of the Seventy, and Danny White, quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys football team.

After the first area conference in Paris, we traveled to Helsinki, Finland. President Kimball had been actively working now for three days. He was up early every morning, worked a very heavy schedule throughout the day, and then went to bed late at night. His responsibilities were greater than anyone else’s.
His job included not only presiding and conducting, but he spoke for long periods of time using a translator. He had held an exhausting press conference and had interviewed and set apart many local Church authorities. We boarded an airplane late in the evening for Helsinki. It was necessary to change planes in Copenhagen, and as we walked through the hallways of the airport, President Kimball carried a travel bag with his suits in it. I had a free hand and walked up and said, “President Kimball, let me carry that.” He turned and said, “No, thank you, I have to have a reason for being here.” He was almost serious in humbly expressing his desire to carry his own weight; he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. I was impressed with that same beautiful attitude during the entire trip.

A few years ago my family and I took a vacation from our home in Arizona to the Midwest. We drove through many states, including Kansas, Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Illinois.
Our vacation was going very well, and we were learning to enjoy each other’s company during the long van rides from place to place.
One evening we pulled into a fast-food restaurant in Missouri, all anxious to grab a bite to eat. As we got out of our van, I suddenly had a silent but powerful impression that I should look at the back tire on our van. I started to walk toward the restaurant, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I looked back over my shoulder and then stopped. Again the impression came to my mind: “Check the back tire.” It was so forceful I couldn’t ignore it.
As I approached the rear of the van, I heard a hissing sound. Sure enough, our right rear tire had a leak and was quickly going flat. I ran to get my dad, who had already gone in with the rest of the family.
My father took the van to a gas station down the road before the tire went completely flat. Since the tire wasn’t damaged, the repair was inexpensive and quick. We were able to have the flat fixed just minutes before the service station closed for the night. I don’t know what would have happened if I had ignored the prompting. But I do know that because I responded, we were able to continue our trip safely and conveniently.
Ever since that incident, I’ve always felt reassured of the power of the Holy Ghost and how truly blessed we are as members of the Church to have that special line of communication. I am grateful for that experience, for it will stay with me, forever reminding me that our Father in Heaven loves, cares about, and watches out for all of His children.