Gospel Story Finder

But the relationship was not merely ecclesiastical. When President Young returned from his ingathering mission in the fall of 1842, he was struck with a terrible illness that nearly killed him. The Prophet administered to him, prophesied that he would live, and then personally cared for him, sitting with him for hours, carefully instructing and supervising his attendants for many days during the crisis period. Brigham said much later concerning this time, “I used to think, while Joseph was living, that his life compared well with the history of the Savior.”18

Earlier this year I was on assignment visiting a stake in the western United States. It was a normal Sunday, a normal meeting, with normal members of the Church. I watched as people entered the chapel and reverently moved to available seats. Last-second, whispered conversations echoed throughout the hall. Mothers and fathers tried—sometimes in vain—to quiet energetic children. Normal.

But then, before the meeting began, words inspired of the Spirit came into my mind.
These members had not come just to fulfill a duty or listen to speakers.
They had come for a deeper and far more significant reason.
They had come to worship.

As the meeting progressed, I observed various members in the congregation. They had an almost heavenly expression, an attitude of reverence and peace. Something about them warmed my heart. The experience they were having that Sunday was something quite extraordinary.
They were worshipping.
They were experiencing heaven.
I could see it in their countenances.
And I rejoiced and worshipped with them. And as I did so, the Spirit spoke to my heart. And on that day, I learned something about myself, about God, and about the role of true worship in our lives.

When I reflect back on what began as a normal Sunday morning, in that normal meetinghouse, in that normal stake, even today I am moved by that extraordinary spiritual experience that will forever bless my life.
I learned that even if we are exceptional managers of our time, callings, and assignments—even if we check all the boxes on our list of the “perfect” individual, family, or leader—if we fail to worship our merciful Deliverer, heavenly King, and glorious God, we are missing much of the joy and peace of the gospel.

Fifth grade was a hard year for me. I’d had the same group of friends for several grades, and I thought that we would always be friends. But soon after fifth grade started, my friends started using bad language and acting in ways I knew Heavenly Father wouldn’t like. They also started being mean to other kids in our class and talking about people behind their backs.
Eventually I became one of those kids my friends made fun of. They even gave me a mean nickname: Big-Lip Charlotte, or “BLC” for short. My feelings were so hurt. I started trying to avoid my friends at school, but it was hard because we were in the same class.
“Hey, guys!” I said one day at lunch, trying to be friendly and cheerful.
“Hey, BLC! Big-Lip Charlotte!” they chorused together as they made faces at me.
I ran away, trying to hold back tears. I ate lunch by myself and counted the minutes until I could go home.
“What’s wrong, honey?” asked Mom when she noticed my tear-stained cheeks after school.
“The kids who used to be my friends have started calling me a horrible name. I just don’t understand why they have to be so mean to me.” I started to cry again.
“Those kids shouldn’t be acting that way. But it really doesn’t matter what other people think of you. You’re beautiful, and you have no reason to listen to what those mean kids say.”
“But, Mom,” I said. “I see them every day. I do care what they think of me. And other people listen to what they say about me. How can I just ignore everyone?”
“Charlotte, the only opinions that really matter are yours and the Lord’s. If you’re OK with yourself and what you do, and if Heavenly Father is OK with your choices, it doesn’t matter what people call you or say about you. I promise.”
As I went to school the next few weeks, my old friends still laughed at me and called me names. But I soon found that I could walk around with peace in my heart. I knew that if Heavenly Father was OK with my big lips, then I could be too.
I was able to get through the rest of fifth grade. I ended up making new friends who didn’t call me names and who helped me feel good about myself. Most important, though, I learned that if Heavenly Father is pleased with who I am, then I don’t have to worry about what anyone else thinks.

It was almost Halloween. Every year the Master Monster Makers built a frightening monster for the Halloween party at the church. The boys were busy bringing monster parts to Billy’s backyard.
Billy had a big cardboard box that a washing machine had come in, and many smaller boxes. He also had some coat hangers for fastening the boxes together.
Tommy brought ropes and a worn-out tent that his brother had given to him.
Donald brought spray paints and a plastic bucket.
“We are the Master Monster Makers,” they said. “We make the best monsters!”
Billy’s little sister, Cathy, came outside. She had a toy megaphone in her hand. When she talked through it, her voice was very loud.
“Can I help?” she asked. “We could put my megaphone in your monster.”
“Sorry,” said Billy. “You are not one of the Master Monster Makers. You would only get in the way.”
Cathy shouted, “I would not!”
Billy shook his head. “No.”
Cathy put the megaphone to her mouth and shouted, “YOU ARE NOT VERY NICE!”
“Quiet, mega-mouth,” said Billy.
The Master Monster Makers laughed. Cathy turned and marched back inside. The boys started working.
Billy put the boxes together to make the monster’s body.
Tommy wrapped the tent around the boxes, then tied on ropes to make the arms move.
Donald painted the monster scary colors. He put the little bucket on top for a head.
The Master Monster Makers worked hard all morning. At last Billy put an awful Halloween mask on the monster’s head, and the three boys stood back and admired their work. The monster looked so real that they thought it might reach out and grab them.
“That’s the best monster we’ve ever made,” said Donald. The others agreed.
Cathy came out of the house with her megaphone. “Is anybody thirsty?” she asked. “I poured you some cold root beer in the kitchen.”
The Master Monster Makers were all thirsty. They hurried inside.
“That was nice of Cathy,” said Donald, sipping through a straw. “I thought she would still be mad.”
“Me, too,” said Tommy. “Maybe we should have let her help.”
“No,” said Billy. “She doesn’t know anything about making monsters.”
The three boys finished their drinks and went back outside. They wanted to thank Cathy for the root beer, but they didn’t see her anywhere. They were alone with the monster.
“It sure looks scary,” said Billy.
“Yes,” said Tommy. “Spooky.”
“Ooooohhhhh …”
“What was that?” asked Donald.
The monster’s arms came up a little.
“It—it moved!” Tommy croaked.
The monster’s arms went up high. It growled, “COME HERE, LITTLE BOYS. I AM VERY HUNGRY!”
“It’s almost like it’s alive!” yelped Billy.
“Neat!” Donald squawked.
“Who thought of that?” the Master Monster Makers asked each other.
Just then they heard the monster again. It giggled.
Giggled?
“Oh,” said Billy. “I know.” He marched right up to the monster and banged on its chest. “OK,” he said. “Come on out, Cathy.”
There was silence for a minute. Then Billy’s little sister poked her head out. “How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“Monsters don’t giggle,” said Billy.
Cathy climbed out of the monster with her megaphone. “Are you angry?” she asked.
Billy thought for a minute. “I guess not,” he said. “I didn’t think you could make our monster any scarier. But you did.”
“You sure did,” agreed Tommy and Donald.
The boys looked at each other. They all had the same idea at the same time.
“Cathy,” Billy asked, “would you be the monster’s voice at the Halloween party?”
“That would be fun!” Cathy exclaimed.
“We are the Master Monster Makers,” they all four shouted, “and we make the best monsters!”

Recently I had an experience on an airplane which illustrates this point. Sitting by a stranger, I asked him what his business was. After responding, he asked me what mine was. This led to my asking him if he believed he lived before birth and would live beyond death. He didn’t know. He imagined that he might have existed before birth and that he might live beyond the grave, but as to form and nature he had no idea.
I then reviewed to him the gospel plan as concisely as I could, explaining who we are, and where we came from, and where we are going, and why we are here.
“Marvelous,” he responded, “that would give a person a purpose in living, an objective in life.”
Precisely. That is exactly what it is meant to do. The covenants we enter into here in mortality are to help us attain our objective of eternal life, which is explained in, and made possible by, the new and everlasting covenant of the gospel.

—Sitting on the front row (reserved for honor graduates), David Scott is so excited he almost bounces. David will be announced as the Outstanding Cadet in Social Science, and the asterix printed on the program indicates he is receiving both military and scholastic recognition. But his excitement isn’t due totally to his accomplishments. He’s thinking of tomorrow morning when he will be married for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.
“Jeri Willfong and I met when we had both just been assigned to the Eighth Squadron. We were sophomores. We talked once for about two hours when she was on detail answering the phones. Later, when the squadron was having a get-together at a melodrama, I asked her if she needed a ride. We started dating after that, and it wasn’t long before we started discussing the Church,” Dave explained.
Dave had become a member two years earlier while attending the preparatory school affiliated with the academy and was eager to share the gospel.
“But he wasn’t pushy,” Jeri said. “It was always me asking the questions, and he would just answer them. It took about six months before I got seriously interested.”
“After about a month I started praying to see if she was the right girl,” Dave said. “After about three weeks of praying, I got an answer that yes, she was. I didn’t know how it was going to work out, but I thought it would.”
While he was at Bergstrom Air Force Base outside Austin, Texas, for summer training, Dave got a call from Jeri. She had seen the examples of local member families and had talked to them extensively about the Church while Dave was gone. She had also attended church and received the missionary discussions.
“I’m going to be baptized the 15th of July,” she said.
As soon as Dave returned to the academy, he was sent to Argentina for additional training, so he missed the baptism. But Jeri continued to grow in testimony and activity, and soon the couple decided to make their relationship last forever. But because cadets aren’t allowed to marry until after graduation, they had to wait for Dave to finish school.
“I decided to leave the academy to prepare for marriage and to spend time with my family in Florida, helping them understand why I joined the Church,” Jeri explained. “Now both sets of parents will be here for our reception, and we’re going to have our bishop talk about temple marriage. It’s the first real exposure to the Church for our families.”

I thank my wife, Harriet, for her witness and testimony of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. May I share with you the conversion story of my wife’s family many years ago?

One Sunday when I was a teenager attending the Frankfurt Branch in Germany, the missionaries brought a young mother and her two beautiful daughters to our Church meetings. I still remember the impressions I had when I saw those two young girls walking into our chapel—especially about the older daughter. She was about 13 years old, and with her large brown eyes and beautiful black hair, she immediately caught my attention. I thought, “These missionaries are doing a really great job!” Little did I know that this young lady would much later bless my life forever.

But I’m getting ahead of the story. Let me go back and start with how this young family met the missionaries.

In the fall of 1954 two missionaries were inside of an apartment house ringing the doorbells in the city of Frankfurt. Gradually they began working their way up the floors without any success. Finally they rang the bell of the last door on the fourth floor. It was opened by young Harriet, who immediately asked her mother to invite them in. Sister Reich initially hesitated, but after some additional pleading by Harriet, Elder Gary Jenkins from California and his companion were invited in.

These two missionaries were truly guided by the Spirit, not only where to go but also what to say. After briefly explaining who they were and what the message was they wanted to share, the missionaries left a Book of Mormon with the mother, asked her to read the marked scriptures, and departed with a prayer and a blessing.

Two days later they returned. This time the missionaries received a friendly welcome and were invited in quickly. When they asked Sister Reich if she had read the marked scriptures in the Book of Mormon, Sister Reich answered without hesitation, “I read the whole book, and I feel that it is true.”

Sister Carmen Reich was only 36 at the time, a widow with two daughters. Only eight months before, she had lost her husband, a renowned musician, to cancer. After his unexpected death, the family struggled with a number of unanswered questions—Is there a purpose in life? Is there anything after death; and if so, what? Why are we born? Did we live before this life?

Let me make it clear that Sister Reich was a religious person. She loved to read, and the Bible was one of her favorite books. She believed firmly that Jesus is the Christ, and as a family they tried to follow His teachings. They were good, honest people, and even the loss of their husband and father could not take away their feeling of family.

However, when Sister Carmen Reich read the Book of Mormon, book-end to book-end, in two days, she felt something she had never before experienced. By her own account, it was “the spirit of revelation.”

She said she could “feel pure intelligence” flowing into her, giving her “sudden strokes of ideas” about the “things of the Spirit of God.” These ideas related to her special circumstances. As the missionaries taught her the plan of salvation and the other doctrines of the Restoration, she continued to “grow into the principle of [personal] revelation” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith [2007], 132). All the good things she had learned in her Lutheran faith received a new and deeper meaning, and all of a sudden life itself had a totally different and divine eternal perspective.

It was not that she felt any enmity for what she had believed for so many years. But when she heard the message of the Restoration, a door was opened into a world flooded with light and filled with love and hope. Looking back, she described her experience this way: It was as if something of great importance had been lifeless and inert but was now resurrected to life, beauty, and activity.

Let me finish the story of Sister Reich, my dear mother-in-law. She represents in many ways the multitude of converts who are coming into the Church every day from other religions, both Christian and non-Christian, and even from no religion at all. What characterizes them all is that they are willing and pure enough to believe when God speaks.

Sister Reich was baptized on November 7, 1954. In December, only a few weeks after her baptism, the missionary who baptized her asked that she write her testimony down. Elder Jenkins wanted to use her testimony to help others feel the true spirit of conversion. Fortunately, he kept her handwritten original for more than 40 years and then returned it to my mother-in-law as a very special and loving gift. Carmen Reich, my dear mother-in-law, passed away in 2000 at age 83.

Let me read to you parts of her written testimony. It shows what she, with her background, with her needs and desires at the time she met the missionaries, saw as the key points of the Restoration. This is the English translation of her handwritten testimony:

“Special characteristics of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that are not present in other religious communities include, above all:

“Modern revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith.

“Sacred priesthood authority as in the time of Christ, with a living prophet today.

“Next, the Book of Mormon in its clear and pure language, with all its instructions and promises for the Church of Jesus Christ—truly a second witness with the Bible that Jesus Christ lives.

“Faith in a personal God—that is, God the Father; and God the Son Jesus Christ; and the Holy Ghost, who facilitates prayer and guides us personally.

“Belief in a premortal life, the pre-existence. Knowledge of the purpose of our earthly life, and of our life after death, is extremely valuable for us to have and is especially interesting and informative. The plan of salvation is so clearly laid out in the restored gospel that our lives receive new meaning and direction.

“The Word of Wisdom. The Church has given us the Word of Wisdom as a guide to help us realize our desire to keep our body and spirit healthy and improve them. This is our goal because we know that we will take our body up again after death in the same form.

“Temple work, with its many sacred ordinances enabling families to be together forever. This doctrine, totally new to me, was given through revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith.”

Shelly loved to skip. She skipped to the park. She skipped to school and home from school. She skipped next door to visit Sister Jones. She skipped so much that her friends and family called her “Skipper.”
One day, though, Shelly walked home from school very slowly. She didn’t feel like skipping. Her legs felt heavy as she climbed the porch steps and opened the front door. She found Mother sitting at the kitchen table, writing letters.
“Hi, Shelly! How was school today?” Mother asked, pausing to lick an envelope.
Shelly didn’t say anything. She felt tears pressing her eyes. Oh, no, she thought, I’m going to cry again.
Mother licked some stamps and pressed them onto the envelopes. Then she turned to Shelly. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
As Mother hugged her, Shelly felt tears roll down her cheeks. “Oh, Mom! Some of the kids at school say I’m stupid! Am I?”
Mother hugged her tighter. “No, Shelly! You’re not stupid.”
Shelly leaned back and looked at Mother. Mother had a way of looking into Shelly’s eyes that made her feel understood. She knew that Mother loved her. “Then why is everything so hard for me? I’m always the last one finished with math or spelling, and I still get more wrong than everybody else.” Mother handed her a tissue. Shelly sniffed. “I really try, Mom! I really try! And you help me study every night. So why is it so hard for me?”
Mother pulled Shelly close again and answered her with a question. “Shelly, what is the greatest talent anyone can have?”
Shelly thought. She remembered how well her teenage brothers played their violins. They played with the high school orchestra. “Is it to play the violin?” she asked.
“No,” said Mother. “Playing the violin is not the greatest talent. Think again.”
Shelly thought about how well Dad did woodworking. Shelly liked to watch him as he built beautiful furniture. “Is it to build things?” she asked.
Mother shook her head. “No, woodworking is not the greatest talent. Think again.”
Then Shelly remembered how she loved to have Mother sing Primary songs to her at bedtime. Sometimes, if Shelly wasn’t too tired after studying, they sang together. Mother led the singing in Primary. Shelly liked learning the new songs with her mother. “Is singing the greatest talent anyone can have?” Shelly asked.
“No, Shelly, Talent in music is a wonderful talent, but it isn’t the greatest talent.”
Shelly thought about her friend Aubree. Aubree usually finished her math and spelling before anyone else in the class. Aubree didn’t have to study after school, so she took dancing lessons several afternoons a week. She could do ballet and tap dance. On Saturdays, Shelly liked to visit Aubree. Aubree would let Shelly wear one of her beautiful costumes and would teach her some dancing steps.
“Is the greatest talent dancing?” Shelly asked.
“No, Shelly, it isn’t dancing. Think very hard.”
Shelly thought. Then she remembered how hard it was for her to read. Sometimes the letters seemed to flip over or even disappear. “Oh, Mom, it isn’t reading, is it?”
Mother gave her a squeeze. “No, it isn’t reading. Dancing, singing, reading, woodworking, and playing instruments are all great talents, but they aren’t anything compared to the best talent. And, Shelly, you have the best talent.”
Shelly was surprised. “No, Mom. I don’t do anything really well.”
“Oh, yes, you do. You try to make people happy. You stop to visit Sister Jones on your way home from school. She’s lonely living alone, and you cheer her up. She has often told me how much she looks forward to your visits.”
Shelly smiled. She liked Sister Jones. Sometimes she played her harp for Shelly. Sister Jones even said that she’d teach Shelly to play one when Shelly’s arms grew a little longer.
Mother gave Shelly another squeeze. “And when our doorbell rings, you’re the first one there. You greet everyone with a smile. Even when my friends come, you want them to have a cookie, and you always tell them to come again. That makes them very happy.”
Mother is right, Shelly thought. I do like to make people happy.
“Shelly,” Mother said, “your talent is the best talent of all. Can you guess what it is now?”
Shelly still shook her head.
“Shelly, your talent is love. You know how to love others, and that is the best talent. That’s what Jesus taught. All those other talents—singing, dancing, woodworking, playing instruments, even reading—don’t mean very much if you don’t know how to love.”
Shelly thought some more and nodded her head. She gave her mother a kiss and a big hug. Then she skipped down the hallway to change into her play clothes.
The next day just before the bell rang at the end of school, a boy in Shelly’s class started teasing her again. But Shelly only smiled at him. I might not be as smart as you, she thought, but I can love you anyway; and Jesus said that loving is the best thing of all.
Then she put her math and spelling books in her book bag and skipped all the way home.

Before we went to the temple, it was like we had cut an apple and it was apart. But then when we went through the temple, it was like the apple went together.”
That’s how nine-year-old Amanda Baum described her family after they were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple last February. She said that they are closer now because they talk with one another and share their feelings more than they did before. Her parents agreed, saying that their home is more peaceful and that the children seem more special to them now.
For a long time the Baum family—Brandon (12), Amanda (9), Laura Lee (7), James (3), and their parents, Terry and Karla—had been working on their goal of going to the temple to be sealed. It wasn’t an easy goal, but something happened that made them realize just how important that goal was.
Sister Baum was going to have twins, and the family was eagerly awaiting their birth. But when the tiny boys were born, they weren’t very strong. One died right after birth, and the doctors and family didn’t expect two-pound James to live either. A priesthood blessing, however, and lots of prayers helped him survive.
Although it was a sad and difficult time for the family, when they learned that they could have their little brother who had died sealed to them forever, their goal to go to the temple grew stronger.
Preparing for the special day meant that they had to start doing things like praying more, both individually and as a family, and paying their tithing. Now prayers are a very important part of their day, and the children are usually the first to volunteer for family prayers. Another big help was the encouragement that they received from their bishop and home teachers.
Besides bringing their family closer together, going to the temple has also given the Baums opportunities to do missionary work. Their grandfather, James Larkin, is a guide on Temple Square, so about a week before they went to the temple, the Baums invited all their aunts, uncles, and cousins who were not members of the Church to a special family home evening tour of Temple Square. Their relatives were able to learn more about the Church and to feel that they were a part of the Baums’ special occasion. Four of the families bought family home evening manuals that night.
Brandon, Amanda, and Laura Lee try to be good examples for their relatives; they are aware that they are being watched now to see if they are doing the things that the Church teaches. They are hopeful that someday their relatives, too, will join the Church.
Since the children needed to be excused from school to go to the temple, some of their teachers and classmates were curious about where they were going. Amanda and Laura Lee were able to explain to their classes the purpose of temples and how families can be together forever.
Brandon admitted that at first he was a bit nervous when the day finally came to go to the temple, but they all agreed that they felt a loving spirit and were very happy to be there.
In order to have Jason, the little brother who died, sealed to them, Brother Baum’s Uncle Bud from Arizona acted as proxy, or substitute, for him. The children said that when they were being sealed, it felt as if Jason was there instead of their uncle. Before they went to the temple, the children always asked why Jason had to die. Sister Baum said that they don’t ask anymore, because they know that someday they can be with him again.
Brandon has been able to go back to the temple with his ward to do baptisms for the dead, and he is hoping to be able to go again to be baptized for a great-uncle who died. Three-year-old James, who loves to see the Moroni statue on top of the temple, is looking forward to going again when he’s “big like Dad.” The three older children have already set goals of going on missions and being married in the temple.
It is hard to imagine how something can go on forever and ever, but Brandon said that as he looked into mirrors in the sealing room, he saw his family reflected there in a never-ending line for as far back as he could see. That gave him some idea of what eternity is all about.

I know how unnerving it can be to be asked to do something that seems far beyond your capacity. I had been a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles for only 19 months when President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) passed away. In the first meeting of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles following the ordination of President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), he gave specific assignments to the Twelve. His instructions to me included these words: “Elder Nelson, you are to open the countries of Eastern Europe for the preaching of the gospel.”
That was 1985. During the politically frigid years we refer to as the Cold War, not only did a literal wall divide the city of Berlin, but all of Eastern Europe was under the oppressive yoke of communism as well. Churches were closed, and religious worship was strictly limited.
I had spent much of my professional life opening hearts to perform life-saving operations, but I had no experience that would lead me to believe I could open countries for the preaching of the gospel. And yet, a prophet had given me an assignment, so I set out to do what seemed utterly impossible.
From the outset, obstacles were placed in my way. I arrived in most countries not knowing where to go. Even when I was able to find the name of an appropriate government official, it was not unusual for a meeting to be canceled at the last minute or to be postponed. In one country, when an appointment was delayed for two days, a number of temptations were intentionally placed in my way to test me—including traps for black market money and other illicit activities. On another occasion, a meeting was opened with the demand that I depart immediately!
But the Lord is able to do His own work (see 2 Nephi 27:20–21), and I was privileged to watch the unfolding of one miracle after another—always, and only, after I had brought my best thinking, my most courageous efforts, and my most fervent prayers to the task.
Recognition of the Church was granted by some of those countries before the Berlin Wall came down. Recognition from others came later. In 1992, I was able to report to President Benson that the Church was then established in every country in Eastern Europe!

Initially I speak to the worthy young men of the Aaronic Priesthood. When I was a very small boy, my father found a lamb all alone out in the desert. The herd of sheep to which its mother belonged had moved on, and somehow the lamb got separated from its mother, and the shepherd must not have known that it was lost. Because it could not survive alone in the desert, my father picked it up and brought it home. To have left the lamb there would have meant certain death, either by falling prey to the coyotes or by starvation because it was so young that it still needed milk. Some sheepmen call these lambs “bummers.” My father gave the lamb to me, and I became its shepherd.

For several weeks I warmed cow’s milk in a baby’s bottle and fed the lamb. We became fast friends. I called him Nigh—why I don’t remember. It began to grow. My lamb and I would play on the lawn. Sometimes we would lie together on the grass and I would lay my head on its soft, woolly side and look up at the blue sky and the white billowing clouds. I did not lock my lamb up during the day. It would not run away. It soon learned to eat grass. I could call my lamb from anywhere in the yard by just imitating as best I could the bleating sound of a sheep: Baa. Baa.

One night there came a terrible storm. I forgot to put my lamb in the barn that night as I should have done. I went to bed. My little friend was frightened in the storm, and I could hear it bleating. I knew that I should help my pet, but I wanted to stay safe, warm, and dry in my bed. I didn’t get up as I should have done. The next morning I went out to find my lamb dead. A dog had also heard its bleating cry and killed it. My heart was broken. I had not been a good shepherd or steward of that which my father had entrusted to me. My father said, “Son, couldn’t I trust you to take care of just one lamb?” My father’s remark hurt me more than losing my woolly friend. I resolved that day, as a little boy, that I would try never again to neglect my stewardship as a shepherd if I were ever placed in that position again.

Brethren, after more than sixty years, I can still hear in my mind the bleating, frightened cry of the lamb of my boyhood that I did not shepherd as I should have. I can also remember the loving rebuke of my father: “Son, couldn’t I trust you to take care of just one lamb?” If we are not good shepherds, I wonder how we will feel in the eternities.

Well, one day when we’d piled into Uncle Chadwick’s office, he wasn’t there. What was there was his big Colt dragoon revolver, lying on his desk in a patch of windowlight. It was a handsome piece, full of mystery. Uncle Chadwick had used that very gun to shoot a huge bush pig that had come snorting into Horse Creek one day. The pig was foaming at the mouth and chasing Cylus Thombson’s girl who’d been playing marbles in the street. All it had taken was one shot from the Colt dragoon, and that prairie hog was laid out flatter than the road through town!

As a young father, sealed in the temple and with my heart turned to my wife and a young family, I met President Joseph Fielding Smith for the first time. In the First Presidency council room, where I had been invited, came an absolutely sure witness to me as President Harold B. Lee asked me, indicating President Smith, who was sitting next to him, “Do you believe that this man could be the prophet of God?”
President Smith had just entered the room and had not yet spoken a word. I am eternally grateful that I was able to answer because of what came down into my heart, “I know he is,” and I knew it as surely as I knew the sun was shining that he held the priesthood sealing power for all the earth.
That experience gave his words great power for me and my wife when, in a conference session on April 6, 1972, President Joseph Fielding Smith gave the following counsel: “It is the will of the Lord to strengthen and preserve the family unit. We plead with fathers to take their rightful place as the head of the house. We ask mothers to sustain and support their husbands and to be lights to their children.”

A few days before he finished his doctoral program and returned to Korea in September of 1951, Brother Kim attended the Hill Cumorah Pageant with Brother and sister Wood. On Sunday, they attended a special testimony meeting for local missionaries in the Sacred Grove. After the meeting, Brother Kim met Church President David O. McKay, who was also attending the meeting. “As we walked from the grove,” Brother Wood said, “Brother Kim cradled his right hand in his left and, with his cheeks still moist, he kept repeating, ‘I have shaken the hand of the Prophet of God.’”

“When I think back to when I was a young adult, one of the things that comes to my mind is when I was a missionary in England. It was just after World War II, and the Church of Jesus Christ was just getting reestablished there. I was responsible for being a leader in my mission, and I was only 20 years old! I admit that as missionaries, we were a little reckless at that age.
“One day a man invited me to come to a debating society meeting and represent our Church. I agreed to attend, but I had no idea what I was walking into! I found myself in the position of explaining the Church to a large group of people and answering their questions. It was on that occasion that I had my first realization of the power of the Holy Ghost. I’d taught about the Holy Ghost, and I’d read about it, but on this occasion I experienced it.
“As questions were asked, I had the answer in my mind before they had finished asking the question. I had the ability to move through the scriptures in a way that I had never experienced before. It seemed to me that the pages were being turned by someone else as I defended the Church.
“As I think back to that experience 73 years ago, I realize I learned something that has blessed me all these years. I came to know for myself that the Holy Ghost is in fact the Comforter and that by and through God’s power, He brings to our mind the words of the Lord.
“I hope you’re having the same experience as a young adult. Stay anchored in your study of the scriptures, and say your prayers every day. Start your day with a prayer, end your day with a prayer, and talk to the Lord as necessary throughout the day. Whatever your circumstances, I hope you will have the same experience I had with the Holy Ghost at your age.”
President M. Russell Ballard, Facebook, Apr. 14, 2021, facebook.com/mrussell.ballard.

Some people have dogs to love—big ones, silky ones, spotted ones. Some people have cats to love—big ones, furry ones, stripy ones.
Some people have goldfish to love. Some people have canaries. Some people have brothers, or sisters. I didn’t have anybody—no dog, no cat, no goldfish, no canary, no sister, no brother. It was terrible.
Everybody needs somebody—somebody to hide with in the dark when everything’s creepy, somebody whose nose turns red with yours when it’s cold, somebody to slosh through the rain with. It’s pretty lonely without anybody.
“Hello, Jimmy,” I said to myself every morning. “Good night, Jimmy,” I said to myself every night. Nobody ever answered me.
When my teeth chattered and I said, “Brrrr!” nobody ever said, “I’m c-c-cold t-too!”
When I watched a scary show on television and I grew goose bumps, nobody else grew goose bumps with me. Nobody else shivered. Nobody else said, “I—I’m SCARED!”
Then Mommy talked to me one night. She told me I was going to have a baby brother or sister. “Next month,” she said.
“Whoopee!” I said. “That’s what I want.”
I waited a month, a whole month more. Then my baby brother came. He was a little red thing all wrapped up in blue blankets. “Hi,” I said.
He didn’t answer. He screwed up his eyes. He made his fists into little balls.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Waaaa!” he answered. “Waaaa!”
I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t even hear me. I didn’t even hear me.
I made a face at him to make him laugh. He didn’t laugh. He turned purple and cried—again. “Waaaa! WAAAA!”
I didn’t laugh either. He made so much noise that I couldn’t even think.
He smelled funny too.
He couldn’t blow bubble gum. He couldn’t eat ice cream. He didn’t even have much hair, just some fuzz. He couldn’t walk or run or talk.
“Good night,” I whispered to him. He was already asleep.
That night I heard him. It was dark.
“Waaaa!” he yelled. “Aa-aah!”
“Waaaa,” I said. “Waaaa. Waaaa. Waaaa.” Nobody paid any attention. Nobody laughed either.
So I still didn’t have anybody to play with. When I laughed because the grass tickled my elbows, nobody laughed beside me. When I jumped into bed and the springs plunked, nobody plunked beside me.
But after a while …
When I leaned over the crib to tickle my brother’s toes, he smiled at me.
When I helped Mommy hold his bottle, he wrapped his fingers around my finger. I couldn’t get away. I didn’t even try.
When I walked my fingers over his stomach, he kicked his feet because it tickled.
When I blew at the funny, fuzzy hair on top of his head, he waved his hands. He laughed. I laughed too.
And when he cried, Mommy sat him on my knee.
“Waaaa!” he said. “Waaaa!”
Mommy wrapped my arms around him. His tummy felt warm and round. “Don’t cry,” I said. “Please don’t cry.” I joggled him. He couldn’t joggle back. He stopped crying, though, and leaned against me. He pinched the skin on the back of my hands with his fingers. He kicked his heels on my legs.
“Hold him tight,” Mommy said.
I did. I held my baby brother tight. And I wasn’t lonely anymore.

Elder Perry is one who understands sadness and adversity. In December 1974, Virginia died; then in March 1983, their daughter Barbara died. He has also lost two grandchildren to death. During those dark times, his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ gave him hope; today he encourages others who suffer to put their trust in the Lord: “The Lord is very kind. Even though some experiences are hard, he floods your mind with memories and gives you other opportunities. Life doesn’t end just because you have a tragedy—there’s a new mountain to climb. Don’t spend a lot of time sulking over what you’ve lost. Get on with climbing the next mountain.”

Many years ago I spoke of one who took his example from the Savior, one who stood firm and true, strong and worthy through the storms of life. He courageously magnified his priesthood callings. He provides an example to each of us. His name was Thomas Michael Wilson, the son of Willie and Julia Wilson of Lafayette, Alabama.
When he was but a teenager and he and his family were not yet members of the Church, he was stricken with cancer, followed by painful radiation therapy, and then blessed remission. This illness caused his family to realize that not only is life precious but that it can also be short. They began to look to religion to help them through this time of tribulation. Subsequently, they were introduced to the Church, and eventually all but the father were baptized. After accepting the gospel, young Brother Wilson yearned for the opportunity of being a missionary, even though he was older than most young men when they begin their missionary service. At the age of 23, he received a mission call to serve in the Utah Salt Lake City Mission.
Elder Wilson’s missionary companions described his faith as unquestioning, undeviating, and unyielding. He was an example to all. However, after 11 months of missionary service, illness returned. Bone cancer now required the amputation of his arm and shoulder. Yet he persisted in his missionary labors.
Elder Wilson’s courage and consuming desire to remain on his mission so touched his nonmember father that he investigated the teachings of the Church and also became a member.
I learned that an investigator whom Elder Wilson had taught was baptized but then wanted to be confirmed by Elder Wilson, whom she respected so much. She, with a few others, journeyed to Elder Wilson’s bedside in the hospital. There, with his remaining hand resting upon her head, Elder Wilson confirmed her a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Elder Wilson continued month after month his precious but painful service as a missionary. Blessings were given; prayers were offered. Because of his example of dedication, his fellow missionaries lived closer to God.
Elder Wilson’s physical condition deteriorated. The end drew near, and he was to return home. He asked to serve but one additional month, and his request was granted. He put his faith in God, and He whom Thomas Michael Wilson silently trusted opened the windows of heaven and abundantly blessed him. His parents, Willie and Julia Wilson, and his brother Tony came to Salt Lake City to help their son and brother home to Alabama. However, there was yet a prayed-for, a yearned-for blessing to be bestowed. The family invited me to come with them to the Jordan River temple, where those sacred ordinances which bind families for eternity, as well as for time, were performed.
I said good-bye to the Wilson family. I can see Elder Wilson yet as he thanked me for being with him and his loved ones. He said, “It doesn’t matter what happens to us in this life as long as we have the gospel of Jesus Christ and live it. It doesn’t matter whether I teach the gospel on this or the other side of the veil, so long as I can teach it.” What courage. What confidence. What love. The Wilson family made the long trek home to Lafayette, where Elder Thomas Michael Wilson slipped from here to eternity. He was buried there with his missionary tag in place.

Josh W.
As a new deacon, Josh W. of Utah, USA, was asked to teach a lesson about being a disciple of Christ. “I found scriptures about when Peter and others were fishing. They tried one side of the boat and didn’t catch anything,” Josh says. “Then the Savior told them to fish on the other side, and they caught lots of fish (see Luke 5:5–11 and John 21:6–11). So in my lesson, we read that. Then we talked about how it’s like that for us. When we go on our own, we can have trouble. But when we listen to the Lord, He helps us.”
Josh says that learning, teaching, and sharing are important in Young Men. “In Primary we learned a lot and had lots of activities,” he says. “Now we’re learning a lot and sharing. That means doing a lot with what we learn.” For example, after a priesthood lesson, Josh visited a friend who hadn’t been to church for a long time. “His parents work on Sundays, so they don’t come. But I told him he could come with me.”
Josh is learning the purpose of Young Men and Young Women. “It’s to show us how to become more like the Savior,” he says. He knows that the call to “come unto Christ” means moving along a path that started with baptism and confirmation, continues toward the temple, and leads to eternal life.
“I’m ready to move forward,” he says.

Kyle was building a pretend fort.
He dragged chairs over from the table. He got a green blanket from his bed. Then he got a blanket from Mom and Dad’s bed.
Kyle pulled the blankets over the chairs. He tied one blanket with some string to make a door.
This is a good fort, Kyle thought. It’s just right!
Then Kyle got a favorite book and toy. He got his pillow. He lay down inside the fort.
Sandi stuck her head into the fort. Sandi was Kyle’s little sister. She was three. “Can I play too?” Sandi asked.
Kyle frowned. Sandi always wanted to do what Kyle did. But sometimes she broke his toys. Sometimes she tore his books.
“This fort is for five-year-olds!” he said. “You’re not old enough to come in.”
Sandi’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ll be careful,” she said. “I promise.”
But this was Kyle’s fort. He built it himself. He did all the work. Kyle shook his head. “No,” he said.
Sandi trudged away. Kyle could hear her crying.
Kyle opened his favorite book. It was about dinosaurs. But he couldn’t read it. The words were blurry. He had tears in his eyes. He felt bad about being mean to Sandi.
Kyle crawled out of the fort. He went to find Sandi. She was on her bed. She was wrapped in a blue blanket. Her eyes looked sad.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “You can come in the fort. We can pretend you are five.”
Sandi smiled and jumped down from her bed. “Thank you! Thank you!”
“I have an idea,” Kyle said. “Let’s make a sign for the fort. We’ll call it Kyle and Sandi’s Fort.”
Sandi ran to get the crayons. Kyle felt good inside. Now the fort was even better.