Gospel Story Finder

Elder Oaks was born in Provo, Utah, 12 August 1932, and grew up a worker. He began working for pay only three or four years after his father died, to help his widowed mother. Dr. Lloyd Oaks’ death (of tuberculosis) left his young widow Stella with three children: Dallin, eight at the time, and the oldest; Merrill, now a Provo, Utah, ophthalmologist; and Evelyn, now Mrs. H. Ross Hammond, of Salt Lake City.
“I was blessed with an extraordinary mother,” Elder Oaks recalls. “She surely was one of the many noble women who have lived in the latter days.” He lauds her as a woman of “great faith,” a “very skilled parent,” and a woman possessed of great natural executive ability. Many outside the family would agree. Before her death in 1980, Stella Oaks was known as a force for good in Provo, in both Church and civic service.
“She gave me a great deal of responsibility and freedom. She encouraged me to have a job,” Elder Oaks explains. From the time he first worked for pay, “at eleven or twelve,” he has been continuously employed.
That first job was sweeping out a radio repair shop. He had to learn to test the radio tubes he found on the floor, to find out which were good, and that led to an interest in radio. He threw himself into study with characteristic intensity. Before he was sixteen, he had obtained a first-class radiotelephone license, which allowed him to operate a commercial radio station’s transmitter, and found a job in radio. Station managers liked to hire a “combination man”—an engineer who could double as an announcer—“but my voice hadn’t changed,” he recalls, laughing. Before long, however, that change took care of itself, and he was working regularly as an announcer.

I remember a few years ago going on a business trip to eastern Canada in company with a broad range of business and community leaders. After the business of the day, we had dinner together; and during the course of the evening, as everyone began to relax and get better acquainted, one of those present, for no apparent reason, began to tell about his son, a boy whom obviously he loved very much. Yet there was conflict and even some alienation and he wasn’t quite sure what to do, if indeed he should do anything.
That comment prompted a similar response from the others seated around the table. You could tell it was something they were not used to talking about, but each was personally concerned about some aspect of his family life, and this was primarily associated with his children.
Although we live in an era of transition and change, I believe parents are as anxious and concerned about their children as they have ever been. If the family, then, is the foundation unit in society, perhaps there is need to reaffirm some basic principles.
First is that parents recognize they have the right to structure the attitudes and conduct of their children—not only the right but the responsibility.
Second, that the principle of work, the work ethic if you please, be taught by the parents in the family setting. Where else is the dignity of work to be taught if not in the home?
And, third, parents have a right to establish the moral and spiritual tone in the family to help family members to realize the importance of living divine principles as a means of accomplishment and of peace of mind.
First, then, the right of parents to structure the attitudes and conduct of their children. Fundamentally this is divine right. God says of Abraham that he “shall surely become a great and mighty nation, … for I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment.” (Gen. 18:18–19.) God could make Abraham head of a numerous posterity because of his faithfulness in teaching his children.
There are some in the world who might say that such parental influence is repressive and robs the child of its freedom, but quite the opposite is true. A group of young girls was overheard talking about the parents of one of their friends. Showing maturity beyond her years, one of the girls said, “Her parents don’t love her; they let her do anything she wants.” The others agreed.
In a New York Times Magazine article, later condensed in Reader’s Digest, William V. Shannon makes the following points: “American children … are suffering from widespread parent failure. By their words and actions [he says] many fathers and mothers make it clear that they are almost paralyzed by uncertainty. … Many parents are in conflict as to what their own values are. Others think they know, but lack the confidence to impose discipline in behalf of their values. …”
What is lacking, he says, is not more information on child development, but conviction. Although heredity plays some role in the development of a child, the greater influence “depends on whether parents care enough about their children to assert and defend the necessary values.” The author also says that both mother and father need to put family and home responsibilities first. “Rearing our children is by far the most important task that most of us will ever undertake.”
He also states that “parents who do not persevere in rearing their children according to their own convictions are not leaving them ‘free’ to develop on their own. Instead, they are letting other children and the media, principally television and the movies, do the job.” (William V. Shannon, “What Code of Values Can We Teach Our Children?” Reader’s Digest, May 1972, pp. 187–88.)
The greatest principle to be learned in the family setting is love. If parents will influence and direct and persevere with love, then members of the family will also make that principle a part of all they do. The principle of love can overcome many parental mistakes in the raising of their children. But love should not be confused with lack of conviction.
Secondly, that the principle of work be taught in the family and home setting. There is evidence to support that at least in the United States the problems of stress and tension might be linked to a gradually decreasing average number of hours worked by the labor force. The suggestion is that free time, not work, might be a major cause of stress and tension in individuals.
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.
Certainly in every home all family members can be given responsibilities that will fall within their ability to accomplish and, at the same time, teach them the satisfaction and dignity of work.
The third point is that parents have the right to teach moral and spiritual principles to their children. In that regard let me quote the following from modern scripture:
“And again, inasmuch as parents have children in Zion, or in any of her stakes which are organized, that teach them not to understand the doctrine of repentance, faith in Christ the Son of the living God, and of baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of the hands, when eight years old, the sin be upon the heads of the parents.” (D&C 68:25.)
In his first address to the United States Congress, President Gerald Ford stated this universal truth: “If we can make effective … use of the moral and ethical wisdom of the centuries in today’s complex society, we will prevent more crime and corruption than all the policemen and prosecutors … can ever deter.” And he added: “This is a job that must begin at home, not in Washington.” (Christian Science Monitor, 28 Aug. 1974.)
In the article previously mentioned, Mr. Shannon says, “Nothing has invalidated the hard-earned moral wisdom that mankind has accumulated since Biblical times. To kill, to steal, to lie, or to covet another person’s possessions still leads to varying degrees of misery for the victim and the perpetrator. … ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’ may sound old-fashioned, but restated in contemporary terms—‘Do not smash up another person’s family life’—still carries a worthwhile message.”
He also points out the virtues of self-denial and anticipation. As older teenagers learn the facts about sex, it would do no harm, he says, to use self-control.
“A certain amount of frustration and tension can be endured—and with good effect. Only modern Americans,” he says, “regard frustration as ranking higher than cholera in the scale of human afflictions.” (Reader’s Digest, May 1972, pp. 189–90.)
These are but three of many principles that should be emphasized in the setting of family and home.
The next question is, How do parents get this accomplished? For members of the Church, the point at which training and communication begin in the family is family home evening. Monday night is set aside for the family and nothing interferes. The father takes the lead but also has other members of the family make preparation and participate. What is said and done depends on the needs of that particular family. The Church publishes some guidelines to help parents teach moral and religious principles to the family and to make them apply in everyday life.
To the nonmember parent who is interested in establishing some kind of similar activity the Church also offers some special help. Living near you are both full-time and part-time missionaries who have been trained in how to hold a family home evening. They will be happy to demonstrate this program in your home at no obligation. This is a service of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints which it is prepared to offer families everywhere. The only thing we ask is that the whole family is present, especially the father or head of the home, since he is the key to the program.
Of course, these young missionaries are also prepared to teach your family the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ in subsequent visits. But if you do not want to continue, that will be your decision. At least you will be left with a program that many outside this Church have already adopted as being beneficial for the family and the home.
Some business leaders have also looked at the family home evening program and recommended it to their employees. Employees do better work when things are going well at home.
May the Lord bless us as parents to realize our right to help formulate the lives of our children, to teach the dignity of work, and to establish moral and religious principles in our homes, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

The day I arrived in Hawai’i as a new BYU–Hawaii student was January 1, 2004. It was supposed to be a fresh start—something exciting and hopeful. But the moment I landed at the Honolulu airport, I called my parents to say I had arrived and learned that my grandmother had just passed away. I remember walking through the Honolulu airport in tears, completely overwhelmed—grieving, far from home, and unsure of what I had just stepped into. Moving forward into my new life at BYU–Hawaii, far away from home, felt impossible.

A dear friend I met while we both attended BYU–Idaho, Jihye Jean, was actually from Laie and picked me up from the airport that day. She and her childhood friend I did not know at the time, but now also call a dear friend, Caryn Lesuma, received me, my giant suitcase, and tear-stained face with such immediate and sincere kindness. I stayed with the Jean family for over a week until I could get into my student housing up on Naupaka Street—also known as the Point. I ate homemade Korean food her mother lovingly made, I watched Korean dramas with them, we took beach walks at night as she patiently let me cry up and down the shore, and slowly—very slowly—something began to shift. It wasn’t that everything was suddenly okay. But through their kindness, and through the kindness of so many students and faculty I would come to know, I began to feel that maybe things were possible again.

Looking back, I can see that I was not alone in that moment, even though I felt like I was. There were angels all around me. In the Doctrine and Covenants, the Lord gives this promise:
“…I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.” [1] At the time, I didn’t have the language for it—but I was being borne up. I didn’t fully recognize it then, but that experience taught me something I have come back to again and again: We are not meant to do hard things alone.

To illustrate the principle of faithfulness, I would like to tell you about an experience that our family had with my mother when she was in the hospital just before she died. Mother was 92 years old and had lived a long and faithful life. She and we knew that she would not be healed this time and we were preparing together for her passing. Her calling in the Church had, for several years, been as a visiting teaching supervisor. She expressed concern to us that she had not called all of her visiting teachers yet that month so that she could make her report on time. She asked for our help in making that happen. And later that afternoon, just before she died, she looked at us and asked: "Do you think I've done enough?" - meaning, "is it okay for me to go now?" I cherish my mother's example of faithful service right to the end of her life. Never give up. Serve the Lord for as long as you can.

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
Saturday morning at the Cooper house
Don’t tell me Matt and Dad are still sleeping. I thought I was the lazy one on Saturdays.
Oh, they’ve already had breakfast and left. They went to see Matt’s new friend, Franco.
He has a new friend already? That’s not fair. I haven’t found any new friends yet. I wish we hadn’t moved!
We’ve only been here a week. Just give it time. You made lots of friends at your old school. You’ll make friends here too.
Remember, if you want to have a friend …
I know, I know. If you want to have a friend, be a friend.
Meanwhile, at Franco’s house …
Hi, I’m Josh Cooper.
I’m Hector Delgado.
Some of these rocks are really cool. What’s this one?
That’s a geode. Lots of them are hollow, and some have awesome crystals inside. My dad says geodes are like some people—not much to look at on the outside, but pretty cool inside.
If they’re like people, are any of these rocks musical?
What do you mean?
Because then we could have a rock concert!

Corey has an excellent example about trying something new. When his stake announced they were going to have a pioneer trek, he thought he wouldn’t go. He couldn’t imagine walking around in 19th-century-style clothing, pushing a heavy cart with all his gear in it. But as the time for the trek came, Corey found himself wanting to try. He says, “The experience was incredibly beneficial because it gave me an insight into what the pioneers had to go through. My understanding was broadened. It was hard, but it showed me that perseverance is necessary to gain a great testimony. I think you have to experience some pressure and difficulty in order for that testimony to be tested and then become strong.”

After a short time at home, my father and I (mostly my father) decided that it was time for me to pursue another chapter in my search for happiness. So I left home for the happy hunting grounds of BYU in pursuit of an education . . . okay, an eternal companion. I must mention here that at that time there was somewhere around 28,000 students in attendance there. Even with that many people around, I never felt so alone in all my life. Was this joy? I knew that the Gospel was true and I continued to follow the spirit the best I could. And I found joy in serving in serving in church.

I found a good paying job that helped me buy a brand new car! This was joy!!! So I thought! I continued to be happy, even though I had not yet found “the one”! I was so happy, in fact, that I bought a license plate holder for my new car that expressed my joy. It read “Happiness is being Single”.

The path I was traveling soon took me back home again. It was there that my license plate holder had been seen by a member of my Stake Presidency. He extended a thorough interview and after signing my temple recommend said there could only be one other piece of paper that would be more valuable and bring more joy than the one he had just signed . . . that would be the one for the living ordinance . . . meaning getting sealed in the temple. And to help me with this search for “joy”, he would set up a series of interviews over the next six months. In the first two months, I was to report to him with a list of ten young women and their finest attributes. The following two months I would narrow that list down to three, and then the last two months I would narrow the list to one . . . and he said, “You can tell her before you tell me!”

Unbeknownst to him, I had started dating a young lady that was soon to be my bride! After six weeks of intensive dating and car repairs . . . a whole other story . . . we were engaged to be married, and I had to call that counselor in the stake presidency and cancel my interviews with him. I now knew what joy was! I had fasted and prayed many days, even been to the temple, and it had been confirmed to me that she was the one I was to marry!!! I only hoped that she had experienced the same feelings!! You see, she was waiting for a missionary . . . had been for nearly 18 months . . . just the wrong missionary!!! I convinced her that she deserved the best!!! So after another long six weeks of waiting and preparation, we were sealed in the Los Angeles Temple. Truly, this was joy!!! What could possibly bring more joy than this?

I remember seeing pictures of the temple from the time I was very small. Though too young to understand the blessings of the temple, I knew I wanted to go there someday. In Young Women, I started to understand the blessings that would come from the temple. At that time my family was less active, and I prayed each day that we could be sealed as an eternal family.
In the fall of 1993, two weeks before I turned 18, my family did go to the temple. I remember the feeling I had in the Provo Utah Temple, becoming an eternal family with my parents and siblings. As I left the temple that day, I thought I understood the blessings it brought me.
Two years later, in the summer of 1995, I was engaged to be married, so I went to the temple to receive my own endowment. How wonderful to receive another blessing of the temple! Three days after receiving my endowment, I was sealed to my husband for time and all eternity in the Manti Utah Temple. I realized another blessing that I had not previously experienced—my husband and I could be an eternal family. Again I thought I had experienced all the blessings of the temple.
Six years into marriage, we found that we were expanding our family. We were so excited to raise our son and teach him the gospel. But 24 weeks into the pregnancy, our little boy was born fighting for life. After just eight weeks he returned to Heavenly Father. As I held him for the last time, I recognized yet another wonderful blessing of the temple: our son had been born in the covenant and could be ours forever.
Eighteen months after the passing of our son, we received a phone call from LDS Family Services saying that a young woman had chosen to place her baby with us. Knowing that we could not have more biological children, we could not have been more excited.
When our little girl was six months old, we finalized her adoption and took her to the temple to be sealed to us. Four years after our little girl became part of our family, another young woman chose us to be the parents of a sweet little boy. Again we had the blessing of taking a six-month-old to the temple. I will never forget how I felt when I saw my children, all in white, in the temple with my husband and me to be sealed to us for eternity.
I now realize that I did not understand all the blessings the temple could bring when I was in Young Women or when I was sealed to my husband or even when our son passed away. And even though I recognize many more blessings than I have in years past, I now understand that the temple is a place of eternal blessings, blessings that will come to us in this life and in eternity. Some we may realize easily today, and others will teach us, strengthen our testimonies, and help us someday to reach our eternal home.
The temple is a place of peace and comfort, joy and newness. I am more grateful than ever for the temple and pray that as I return there, I can continue to learn and appreciate the blessings of the temple.

My mother’s name is Tatiafogaega Tausagafou Brown-Fuimaono.
When she was young, Tatia lived in a small faleo’o (house) with her family in Matautu Lefaga, Samoa. Her father, Palauni Brown, was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but he had not been active in the Church for a while. Tatia remembers that her dad would still encourage his wife and five children (at the time) to attend his church, even though he didn’t.
Tatia’s mother was a devout member of the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa. When missionaries from her husband’s church would visit their home, she never wanted to have a proper conversation with them, but she did accept their challenge to read the Book of Mormon. This book intrigued her, and before long—even though she still refused to take the missionary lessons—Tatia’s mother was reading from the Book of Mormon daily.
One day, her mother instructed Tatia to collect large, flat stones to hold down the edges of their mosquito nets. Tatia obediently headed out the front of their house, but before she could pick up one stone, she mysteriously collapsed.
Her mother rushed out to her, and then screamed. Tatia was already cold and pale and wasn’t breathing. The very next thought that came to her mother’s mind was to call for the elders, the missionaries from her husband’s church.
By the time the elders arrived, Tatia has been unresponsive for several minutes. The missionaries immediately gave her a blessing of healing, and as she began to wake up, Tatia remembers hearing one elder’s voice saying, “Mother, do not worry. She will be well. Heavenly Father has work for her to do. You and your children will also be blessed because of your faith.”
From that day forward, Tatia’s mother would testify that this event—the miraculous healing of her child—confirmed to her the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and indeed, the priesthood of God. She was baptised in 1959 and spent the rest of her life dedicated to the Lord’s work, especially the gathering of Israel on both sides of the veil.
Before she passed away in 2019—at the age of 90—Tatia’s mother was blessed to witness the elder’s prophecy come true. She would eventually have nine children and they all became strong, active members of the Church, with six of them serving missions of their own. They in turn are raising their own children in the gospel of Jesus Christ, and another generation of Latter-day Saints can thank a faithful grandmother for giving the Book of Mormon a chance.

Some people think immediately of the lost 116 manuscript pages whenever they hear the name “Martin Harris.” After all, he pressed Joseph Smith time and again to ask God if Martin could show the pages to his family (see D&C 3:12–13). But Martin’s story doesn’t end there.

Martin repented and continued supporting the Prophet Joseph, including financing the original publication of the Book of Mormon. President Dallin H. Oaks described that single act as “one of Martin Harris’s greatest contributions to the Church, for which he should be honored for all time.”1

His story continues. Martin was chosen as one of the three special witnesses of the Book of Mormon. Yet even with this experience (which took place after the 116 pages were lost), Martin had to overcome failure.

To set the scene, Joseph Smith entered the woods with Martin Harris, David Whitmer, and Oliver Cowdery. They were acting on revelation that the time had come for witnesses to see the sacred plates. Each man took turns praying to be shown the plates. Nothing happened. They each prayed again … still nothing.

Joseph Smith wrote, “Upon this, our second failure, Martin Harris proposed that he should withdraw himself from us, believing, as he expressed himself, that his presence was the cause of our not obtaining what we wished for.”2

Sure enough, not long after Martin left, the angel Moroni appeared and revealed the plates to David Whitmer and Oliver Cowdery. But if you read the Testimony of the Three Witnesses, you’ll see Martin’s name right alongside the other two. How so?

Because Martin didn’t give up.

He retreated further into the woods and kept praying. When Joseph found him later, Martin pleaded with Joseph to pray with him again. This time, Martin’s faith was rewarded with the same vision the others had seen. “’Tis enough; ’tis enough; mine eyes have beheld,” Martin said.3

Though Martin Harris faded in and out of Church activity in later years (finally fully returning to the Church community at age 87), he never once faded in his testimony of the Book of Mormon nor what he had witnessed in the woods.

The youth of the Kitchener Ward, Brampton Ontario Stake, performed a special service project at the Doon Pioneer Village, a community museum. They helped prepare the facility for the spring opening by scrubbing buggies, sweeping out the various buildings, and dusting all the nooks and crannies in the general store.
Besides getting dusty, the youth enjoyed trying on old-time costumes. Their project saved the community the cost of hiring others to do the work. The local newspaper covered the event, and the curator and foreman of the village were impressed with and appreciative of the amount of work the youth accomplished. The morning was concluded with a picnic in the old town hall.

I remember vividly an experience I had near the end of my mission: A small eight-year-old boy and his mother taught me the importance of paying tithing.
At that time I was working in the mission home with the president of the Mexico and Central America Mission. He called my companion and me into his office one day and told us that he was sending us to Oaxaca. He handed us a list of the names of all the people who had joined the Church during the brief time missionaries had served there; they had been withdrawn some months previously. Our assignment was to look up everyone on the list, see how they were getting along, and, if possible, arrange for a sacrament meeting so that the members could meet together and partake of the sacrament. Then we were to bring back a report.
We made the overnight trip on the little narrow railway, arriving very early the next morning. As soon as we got off the train, we began tracking down addresses.
The first place we went to was a street lined with long adobe walls with doorways in them. When we found the address we were looking for and walked through the doorway, we found a whole group of homes inside. Tucked back in one corner was the home of the woman we were seeking. She lived there with her eight-year-old son and infant daughter.
As she came out of her small house, she recognized us by the way we were dressed, and rushed to give us a warm Mexican greeting. Then, without saying another word, she turned around and went back into her home.
Moments later she returned, carrying a small clay jar. She reached into the jar and pulled out some pesos and centavos (Mexican money). She told us that her family had saved ten percent of what they had earned. Most of that tithing had come from her son, who worked at the plaza in the center of the city, shining shoes. When he returned each day, he immediately put his tithing into the little jar so that the money could be turned in to the missionaries whenever they returned.
I can remember my feelings as that woman handed me the money. She was standing there in threadbare clothes and no shoes, and her children were in the same circumstances. I knew that there were things she would have loved to buy her children. I knew that there were many things that they desperately needed money for.
At first I wanted to give the money back to her and to encourage her to spend it where it was most needed. But then I realized that that was not my right. She and her son had saved that money carefully, knowing that it belonged to the Lord and wanting Him to have it. I realized, too, that they would be blessed for it.
I learned a great lesson that day about the importance of paying tithing and the blessings it can bring. I also learned a lesson about faith. That little boy and his mother had not known if missionaries would ever return to their home, but they were committed to the gospel principles, and they had faith that, if they were obedient, the Lord would bless them.

I can’t resist one other. Once in a great while a General Authority gets a Sunday without a stake conference assignment. I had one several years ago. I decided to attend my own ward. That’s a rare and interesting experience. In the time since I had last attended, our ward had been divided. We had a new member in the bishopric that I didn’t know, and it became obvious, as I approached the door, that he didn’t know me. As I walked in, he said, “Good morning! I’m Brother ___________, and who are you?”
I said, “I’m Paul Dunn.”
He said, “Oh! You’re Jeanne Dunn’s husband.”
And I said, “Yes I am.”
He said, “We’re honored to have you at church this morning.”
I said, “I’m honored to be here.”
He said, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your class.”
And he did. He took me into the Senior Aaronic class. The teacher there was equally gracious and wonderful, and he didn’t know me either. He welcomed me with open arms. And, you know, it got to be kind of funny; because as he started to teach, the irony of it all was that the lesson he taught that morning I wrote. About four times during the session, I raised my hand and made a contribution. After the class the teacher said, “You know, for a guy that doesn’t come to church very often, you sure are smart.”
Well, I went up after class and said, “Sir, I just want to tell you something.”
He said, “Please do.”
I said, “I thought that was the finest lesson I’ve ever heard.”
He called me up the following Tuesday and said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was having too much fun,” I responded, “and besides, you’re a great fellowshipper. You were tremendous.”

Their eldest son, Michael, first met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in primary school. At that time, schools held religious instruction from different denominations and Michael would come home excited to tell the family how much he enjoyed these classes.
The missionaries soon visited the McIlwaines and taught the gospel of Jesus Christ to the whole family. Betty remembers feeling the power of the Holy Spirit at her very first meeting with the Whyalla Branch, especially during the sacrament service.
The McIlwaine family was baptised in the Whyalla sea on 29 December 1962. On Christmas Day of 1967, the whole family flew to New Zealand to be sealed for time and all eternity in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple. After that first visit, Betty and Bill fell in love with the temple and returned as often as they could afford it.

Elsie Power is one such sister, who writes: “I knew nothing about Zoom or technology and was afraid I might, press the wrong button but our bishop was there at the end of the phone, whenever needed, to walk me through the process. He is always available, and that is reassuring. I am now confident in using Zoom and enjoy meeting with the ward and now know how to contact my family members all over the world. It is a wonderful blessing and a friend who I once thought was my enemy.”

Filing of articles and thoughts for church talks and lessons is another chore that I simply can’t stand to do for more than a few minutes at a time. Before applying this idea to the filing task, and while waiting—and waiting—to file until I “had time” or felt “motivated,” I felt guilty about not getting it done. After years of good intentions, I decided to file two items a day, every day. I’m still at it, but now instead of two boxes of material to file, I’m down to a stack about three-inches deep. And I feel much better about my file.

Silvia Zamuria Vanegas of the Granada Branch, Granada Nicaragua District, recalls, “When I was baptized, I made a promise to the Lord that one day I would teach other people because what I had found brought me so much joy.” In May 2005, four years after her baptism, she left to serve a mission in Guatemala. But she had been sharing the gospel with friends and working with the sister missionaries long before her call. Sister Zamuria quotes a favorite saying that calls on those who can light a candle to share the light with people around them.

Once there was a man named Eric Liddell in Scotland who had to make a very hard decision.
Eric was a fast runner, a very fast runner called a sprinter. His best race was the 100-meter dash. Because he was so fast, he was chosen for Great Britain’s team in the 1924 Olympics in Paris, France.
Eric also believed in God. He believed that Sunday was a special day to worship Him.
When the Olympic schedule was announced, Eric found out that the 100-meter race was on a Sunday. He said he wouldn’t run that race. He decided to run a much longer race, the 400-meter dash, on another day instead.
Eric’s decision made many people angry. Reporters came to his house and called him a traitor to his country. Some thought he was afraid he would lose in the 100-meter race.
Most people just didn’t understand why keeping the Sabbath day holy meant so much to Eric. The men in the British Olympic Association told Eric that if God had made Eric such a fast runner, Eric would be honoring God by using his talent, even on a Sunday. Eric told them he believed that his speed was a gift from God, but he still didn’t feel right about running. Some men from the association tried to convince Eric that the Sabbath ended at noon in France. “My Sabbath lasts all day,” Eric replied. He had made his decision.
Eric trained for the 400-meter race for several months before the Olympics. It was hard work. At first he ran out of energy when he was only halfway through. But Eric kept practicing. He knew that even if he lost, he would still feel good about his choice. And he had faith that God would help him because he was keeping the Sabbath day holy.
On the day of the race, Eric tried to stay calm. He shook hands with the other racers and pinned the number 451 to his running clothes. Am I doing the right thing? he asked himself. Eric decided he would run as hard as he could for as long as he could, and then he would trust God to help him do the rest.
When Eric heard the starting gun, he zoomed ahead, taking the lead. The other runners ran slower on purpose, trying to save some energy for the end. They all thought Eric would burn himself out. But by the halfway point, Eric still hadn’t lost his energy. He wasn’t getting tired! But could he last?
One of the other racers almost caught up with Eric, but Eric still wasn’t tired. He pulled even farther ahead. No one could catch him! He crossed the finish line several yards ahead of the other racer and broke a world record.
With God’s help, Eric had won a gold medal! He knew that God had given him the strength to win. He also knew that God had given him the strength to stick with his decision.

In my day, the chapels were not equipped with baptismal fonts. My first baptism was in the Scioto River in the state of Ohio. It was on a cool fall day, and the water seemed even colder than the air. I remember the shock of wading into the cold river while encouraging my investigator to follow me. The coldness of the air and the water, however, soon vanished as I administered the ordinance of baptism. Seeing the radiant face of the individual who came up out of the waters of baptism is an image I will never forget.

It was on his mission that Brother Han learned a great lesson about the Book of Mormon. “As missionaries, we were told to tell the people first about the Book of Mormon and the Joseph Smith story. I felt that those things were harder to understand and accept and that it would be easier for investigators to accept the gospel principles gradually,” Brother Han says.
However, he quickly became frustrated with the lack of response from investigators. After fasting and praying, “I received my answer,” Brother Han says. “I knew I had to teach the Book of Mormon first. I recognized that I hadn’t been relying on the Spirit’s ability to touch people and change their attitudes. It surprised me, but when I was obedient, people accepted those gospel principles and ideas that I had thought would be so difficult for them.”