Gospel Story Finder

While the formal classroom may be intimidating at times, some of the most effective teaching takes place other than in the chapel or the classroom. Well do I remember that during the spring season some years ago, members of my ward and an adjoining ward took all the Aaronic Priesthood, who eagerly looked forward to an annual outing commemorating the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood. On this particular occasion we journeyed by bus 90 miles north to the Clarkston, Utah, cemetery. There, in the quiet of that beautiful setting, we gathered the youth around the grave of Martin Harris, one of the Three Witnesses of the Book of Mormon. While we surrounded the beautiful granite shaft which marks his grave, Elder Glen L. Rudd, then the bishop of the other ward, presented the background of the life of Martin Harris and read from the Book of Mormon his testimony and that of Oliver Cowdery and David Whitmer. The young men listened with rapt attention, realizing they were standing at the grave site of one who had seen an angel and had actually beheld the plates with his own eyes. They reverently touched the granite marker designating the grave and pondered the words they had heard and the feelings they had felt.
Then we walked a short distance to a pioneer grave. The marker bore the name of John P. Malmberg and contained the verse:
A light from our household is gone.
A voice we loved is stilled.
A place is vacant in our hearts
That never can be filled.
We talked with the boys about sacrifice, about dedication to truth. Duty, honor, service, and love—all were taught by that tombstone. In memory’s eye I can see the boys reach for their handkerchiefs to wipe away a tear. Heard yet are the sniffles which testified that hearts were touched and commitments made. I believe each youth had determined to be a pioneer—one who goes before, showing others the way to follow.
We then retired as a group to a local park, where all enjoyed a picnic lunch. Before turning homeward, we stopped at the grounds of the beautiful Logan temple. It was a warm day. I invited the boys to stretch out on the spacious lawn and with me gaze at a sky of blue, marked by white, billowy clouds hurried along on their journey by a steady breeze. We admired the beauty of this magnificent pioneer temple. We talked of sacred ordinances and eternal covenants. Lessons were learned. Hearts were touched. Covenants and promises became much more than words. The desire to be worthy to enter temple doors lodged in those youthful hearts. Thoughts turned to the Master; His presence was close. His gentle invitation “Follow me” was somehow heard and felt.

Yet another father taught a son a never-to-be-forgotten lesson in obedience and, by example, to honor the Sabbath day. I learned of this at the funeral service of a noble General Authority, H. Verlan Andersen. A tribute was paid to him by one of his sons. It has application wherever we are and whatever we are doing. It is the example of personal experience.

The son of Elder Andersen related that years earlier he had a special school date on a Saturday night. He borrowed from his father the family car. As he obtained the car keys and was heading for the door, his father said, “The car will need more gasoline before tomorrow. Be sure to fill the tank before coming home.”

Elder Andersen’s son related that the evening activity was wonderful. Friends met, refreshments were served, and all had a good time. In his exuberance, however, he failed to follow his father’s instruction to add fuel to the car’s tank before returning home.

Sunday morning dawned. Elder Andersen discovered the gas gauge showed empty. The son saw his father walk back into the house and put the car keys on the table. In the Andersen home, the Sabbath day was a day for worship and thanksgiving, and not for purchases.

As the funeral message continued, Elder Andersen’s son declared, “I saw my father put on his coat, bid us good-bye, and then walk the long distance to the chapel, that he might attend an early meeting.” Duty called. Truth was not held slave to expedience.

In concluding his funeral message, he said: “No son was ever taught more effectively by his father than I was on that occasion. My father not only knew the truth—he lived it.”

The man is Wisit Khanakam, president of the Chiang Mai District, Thailand, and the loving care he gives the baby is typical of the loving care he gives the five hundred members in the three branches he serves.
The members know that President Khanakam lives the gospel principles he teaches. In his home the day before, he said, “If there is one thing that helps me and my family stay active in the Church, it is living the gospel. That’s not just praying, not just studying the scriptures, not just serving in a calling, but applying all the gospel principles to our daily lives.
“For example, the Church teaches us how to build love and unity in the family—mother and father and the children helping each other. Just like today,” he says, “my wife had to go to work this afternoon. I had to work in the morning, but I came home in the afternoon to care for our two children, do some laundry, and wash the dishes.”
As he speaks, his seven-year-old daughter, Wisuchalak (nicknamed Buang), sleepily walks into the room from an afternoon nap. Seeing her father is busy, she turns on the television. Although she chooses a children’s program, it contains some rather frightening animation. Her father walks over to her, puts his arm around her, quietly explains that the program really isn’t suitable for her to watch, and successfully encourages her to go outside and play with her eight-year-old brother, Wisoodthiporn, or Ben. “We call him Ben after King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon,” explains President Khanakam.
“There are many things to do in the home,” he says. “It is the activities we do together as a family that help build our testimonies and strengthen us spiritually. For example, my wife is very good at preserving the oranges and mangoes we grow. We get the children involved in gathering the fruit and preparing it for storage. We also work together to keep family records—individual journals, as well as a family history.”
Teachers by profession, President and Sister Khanakam used family prayer and their training to help their son overcome what appeared to be a learning disability. “His teachers said he was very slow intellectually, and so we first thought of providing him with a tutor at home. But then we prayed about the problem, and we realized that the best teachers for our son were his mother and father. Our decision, based on the answer to our prayers, is turning out well. Ben is happy that his mother and father understand his needs and want to help him. As we help him with his school work, he is improving and learning faster. And it gives us the opportunity to grow closer together.”
The closeness of the family now is in contrast to the separation that employment forced upon Brother and Sister Khanakam after they were married in 1981. “A month after our marriage, we were sealed in the Tokyo Temple. When we came home, I returned to Chiang Mai, where I had a good-paying teacher’s position, and my wife returned to her family home in Mahasarakham 830 kilometers away. We lived that way for about a year. But the full-time missionaries would keep asking me, ‘Wisit, do you have the faith the Lord will bless you if you keep your temple covenants? You need to be with your wife.’
“So I quit my job in Chiang Mai and found one in Mahasarakham. I was earning less than half what I had made in Chiang Mai. That’s when we learned to apply welfare principles in our family. We learned how to budget our income, to work with our hands, and to raise a family in the gospel.
“I was called as president of the Mahasarakham branch, and my wife was called as Relief Society president. I was the only male member in the branch. It took a couple of years for the membership to grow. Now they have a chapel of their own—not because of anything we did, but because of the love and unity that the people there have.”
Before moving to Mahasarakham, Brother Khanakam served as Chiang Mai District President, a calling he received again when he returned to Chiang Mai three years ago to teach at the local high school.
The Khanakams live in a house outside the city of Chiang Mai on family property that contains fruit trees and about three acres of rice paddy. “We hire some people to grow the rice and then give the crop to my mother.”
His relationship with his mother is greatly improved from the days twenty years ago when he first made contact with Latter-day Saint missionaries.
He was introduced by a friend to the English language classes the missionaries presented. That led to the discussions and an invitation to attend Church.
“I attended the investigators’ class. What I heard there made little sense to me at first. I was an active Buddhist in a family of active Buddhists. But the name of Jesus touched my heart. I remember as a boy hearing Protestant missionaries talk of Jesus and Christianity. My parents and relatives did not like Christians and they said harsh things about them and about Jesus. I couldn’t help but wonder about this man Jesus. What happened to him? Why did my family talk only of bad things about him?
“So when the missionaries talked to me of Jesus, I decided to invite them to my cousin’s home where I was living while going to school. He and his family listened to some of the discussions, but then stopped.
“I continued with the discussions and with attending church, and I finally gained a testimony.
“I was baptized when I was eighteen years old.
“When I told my mother that I had been baptized, she became very upset, and she cut me from the family. I was the ‘baby’ in the family, with three older brothers and an older sister. From that time on, I suffered a great deal of persecution from my family, and I left home.
“Knowing of my situation, the branch president wisely counseled me that if I loved God I would want to obey his commandments and show love and respect for my parents. The Lord would bless me, the president said, if I would return home and be an example of Christian living to my family.
“When I went home, my mother said, ‘What do you need? A mattress, pillows, or anything? I’ll give them to you, but you can’t stay here with us.’
“But I told her I loved her and my father and my brothers and my sister, and I wanted to stay. The family was very upset, and no one would talk to me. But apart from going to school, I stayed home and worked very hard doing whatever I could around the house, or around the property.
“When I completed high school I wanted to go to the university. My mother said, ‘Tell me you are not a Mormon and I will let you go to the university. If you tell me you are a Mormon, you will never go to school.’ I said, ‘Mother, I am a Mormon.’ ‘That’s enough,’ she said.
“I didn’t even try to take the entrance examination.”
Instead, Brother Khanakam studied at the English Language Center in Chiang Mai, and eventually he successfully applied for a position with an American professor studying in Thailand. Later, with his mother’s approval, he attended the university in Bangkok for almost four years.
“Although my father died at this time, the university was a good experience for me. But I always made sure that the campus activities would not interfere with my church attendance. My friends urged me to serve a mission. Although I didn’t have a personal testimony of being a missionary, I encouraged others to go.
“After the university, I taught in public schools to earn some money and then decided I would go on a mission. When I told my mother, she was very, very angry with me. She contacted her attorney and had me cut from her will. She told me, ‘Choose what you want: your family or your church.’ I told her I wanted to serve a mission for the Lord. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘but you’ll get no support from the family.’”

At the funeral services for a remarkable daughter of God, someone shared that this sister, as stake Relief Society president, worked with others in her stake to contribute quilts to give warmth to suffering people in Kosovo during the 1990s. And like the good Samaritan, she went out of her way to do more as she and her daughter drove a truck filled with those quilts from London to Kosovo. On her journey home she received an unmistakable spiritual impression that sank deep into her heart. The impression was this: “What you have done is a very good thing. Now go home, walk across the street, and serve your neighbor!”
The funeral was filled with additional inspiring accounts of how this faithful woman recognized and responded to the extraordinary and pressing calls—and also the ordinary occasions—of those within her sphere of influence. For example, she opened her home and her heart to help struggling young people at any hour—day or night.

As I sat restlessly in sacrament meeting one Sunday afternoon listening to a returned missionary speak, I entertained myself by watching two children play peek-a-boo across the back of the bench. Sunday meetings seemed a meaningless ritual. None of my friends went to church or observed the Sabbath, and I sat there grumpy, determined to be miserable.
Then I casually looked over my right shoulder and saw my parents with tears in their eyes. I looked around the room and noticed that many others had tear-stained cheeks. As I turned my attention back to the recently returned elder, I heard him say, “… and I know that my Father lives.”
That was a statement I had heard many times, especially in sacrament meetings. I had always asked myself, How could they possibly know that there is a God? The thought occurred again, and as the closing prayer was said, I felt a little guilty for my thoughts.
Later that evening my family sat down together for family scripture study. We were in the 30th chapter of Alma, and my older brother Jim was reading about the anti-Christ Korihor telling Alma there was no God. In verses 43–44, he read, “And now Korihor said unto Alma: If thou wilt show me a sign, that I may be convinced that there is a God, yea, show unto me that he hath power, and then will I be convinced of the truth of thy words.
“But Alma said unto him: … The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it.” [Alma 30:43–44]
That night I lay very still and pondered the words of Alma. I thought about all the creations on the earth, about the flowers and the trees and the animals—and about me. How magnificent the creation of the human body is! I lay there thinking a very long time until the words of a song I had learned in Primary entered my head: “Whenever I touch a velvet rose or walk by our lilac tree, I’m glad that I live in this beautiful world Heavenly Father created for me.”
Tears fell down my face, and I said a prayer to Father in Heaven asking his forgiveness and thanking him for the beautiful world he created for me. I know now that my Father lives.

When I served as a member of the Europe Area Presidency, I was in Ireland for a mission tour and district conference. At that conference President John O‘Farrell, the first counselor in the Ireland Dublin Mission presidency, spoke and asked a most interesting question:
“Where would I be without the Church?”
He asked the congregation, “Where would you be without the gospel in your life?” He proposed that, “Here in Ireland, without the gospel we would likely be down at the local bar, drinking beer, and telling inappropriate stories.”
Each of us might well ask that question: “Where would I be without the Church?”
What a blessing it is to have the gospel in our lives and to enjoy its saving power.
My dear young friends, may I share with you from the experience of others and from personal testimony my conviction that the gospel has a dramatic power to change lives. The scriptures are full of stories of men and women whose lives were changed by its influence.
Think of Matthew, a despised tax collector who followed the Savior. Where would he have been had he not met the Master and had continued to seek earthly rather than heavenly wealth? (See Matt. 9:9.)
Think of Saul, the tent maker of Tarsus, and his dramatic confrontation with God on that fateful day near Damascus. He held the coats of those who martyred Stephen, and he went “breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1). Where would Saul have been—what would he have become—had not the Lord taken charge and turned anger and hatred into desire and dedication?
Peter and Andrew, James and John heeded the call to leave their nets and become “fishers of men” (see Matt. 4:18–22). It wasn’t easy for these men, it wasn’t convenient—it seldom is, in purely worldly terms—but the Savior’s call was answered, and they were never the same again.
But what of today? Are there still such stories? Definitely, yes!
Let me take you to Huddlesfield, England, for a personal testimony of a sweet sister named Mina Kreslins. She was born in Amsterdam, Holland, into the Jewish faith. She had lost her parents and brothers and sisters during the wartime occupation of that country.
She tells in the testimony of her conversion, “I was bitter, and although I prayed, I just could not forgive.”
Then in early October 1983, her daughter Karla came into contact with the missionaries. Karla became interested in the gospel and was converted. She invited her mother, Mina Kreslins, to attend her baptism.
“It was at Karla’s baptism I felt the Spirit. It was so strong. I had never felt anything so beautiful in my whole life. I felt so elated and so wonderful, and I wanted to become part of it.”
The missionaries began teaching Sister Kreslins, and the Spirit bore witness to her of what they said. “When they told me about Joseph Smith and the Restoration, the Spirit was so strong, from my head to my feet. I knew then, with all my heart, that the Church was true and that I had to be part of it.”
“My baptism was beautiful. No words can describe the feeling I had as I came out of the water. I felt so clean—almost holy. When I received the Holy Ghost, I felt wonderful. I wanted to shout for joy. Finally, there was rest and relief from the horrors and the hating of those war-torn years.
“Now, since I have become a member of this beautiful Church, I have forgiven and I have no bitterness in my heart.”
Where would Mina Kreslins be today without the gospel?
I have asked that serious question of myself: “Where would I be without the gospel?”
It was that gospel testimony that helped me to say no to my Navy friends when our first leave came while I was in training camp in early 1944. My naval colleagues invited me to share in their worldly activities; to prove that I was a “man” by getting a tattoo, and then going after drink and women.
I was the only Latter-day Saint in that group, and, yes, I felt a little lonely as I left them to go by myself to the servicemen’s recreation center and then to a movie. The following day I found Church services and Church friends who strengthened and reinforced a lonely Mormon boy from Provo, Utah.
To have come home from the service in world War II still living a virtuous life has held eternal rewards for me.
The power of Satan is increasing. You see it all about you in books, in magazines, in movies, and on television. You can resist that evil only by putting on the whole armor of God (see Eph. 6:13–17). Put on God’s spiritual armor, for it will protect all who wear it against the deadly weapons of evil and wickedness.
Without the gospel, we would not have available to us the whole armor of God, which is a shield of faith and truly a breastplate of righteousness.
You, in your youth, can have the blessings that come with living a righteous life. You don’t have to wait until you are an old man or an old woman. There is much you can do to build the kingdom—much, indeed, that a priest or a Laurel, a teacher or a Mia Maid, or a deacon or a Beehive can do. Remember that it was through a fifteen-year-old Joseph Smith that the gospel light was given back to the world.
Only Satan would have you underestimate your worth; those who truly follow God know well the worth of souls (see D&C 18:10).
Let us learn our lessons well so that we might be profitable servants. Make full use of the educational opportunities the world offers, but support them with the spiritual strength that comes through seminary classes. Seeking then serving, and learning then living is the process.
I testify to you that the gospel can change lives and that we have a loving and caring Heavenly Father who knows each of us and our hopes and desires, our strengths and weaknesses.

Everyone can remember a special teacher that has made a profound difference in their life. I will ever be thankful to Miss Hamilton, my second-grade teacher. She was also my Sunday School teacher. I can still recall her saying, “Now remember, always be a good boy!” and “I am so proud of you.” She always made me feel very important. I grew to love her, and I’m sure she loved me. That school year was a glorious one. I hated to see it come to a close. The news traveled fast in the small town of Sugar City, Idaho, and one summer day my mother called me in the house to inform me of the disastrous news: my dear Miss Hamilton had gone and gotten married! And she didn’t even check with me to see if it was all right.
Our daughter-in-law, also a teacher, received a note at the end of a school year from one of her third-grade students. He wrote, “Miss Scoresby, I will miss you more than my pet gerbil that died.”
We are in essence a church of teachers. Regardless of life’s circumstances or the nature of one’s calling, all members of the Church have the opportunity to teach and to testify. The very nature of our lives bears witness of what we believe and teaches all who come within our sphere of influence.
Many, perhaps most, adult members of the Church, however, find themselves in a position to teach in a more direct manner. Leaders, parents, and called teachers have the specific responsibility to constantly improve their teaching abilities so they can prepare, train, and edify those who fall within their stewardship. President David O. McKay reminded us that “the proper training of childhood is man’s most important and sacred duty” (Gospel Ideals [1953], 220). The Lord has made it clear that parents shall “teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord” (D&C 68:28).
There is power in the doctrines of the Church—hence the need for us all to be ever learning and constantly fortifying ourselves spiritually. President Hinckley has said: “The forces against which we labor are tremendous. We need more than our own strength to cope with them. To all who hold positions of leadership, to the vast corps of teachers and missionaries, to heads of families, I should like to make a plea: In all you do, feed the Spirit—nourish the soul. … I am satisfied that the world is starved for spiritual food” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1967, 89; or Improvement Era, Dec. 1967, 85–86).
President Hinckley made that statement nearly 30 years ago at a general conference. Then, how much more need have we to be spiritually fortified today! Indeed, inspired gospel teaching among all members of the Church is a lifeline to the spiritual stability and growth of members of all ages.
Technology will surely advance and methods will certainly change, but the personal touch by a dedicated, loving teacher who radiates the Spirit is the key to filling the desire of the writers of this 1899 document, which was to teach the children and others the “principles of the Gospel of Jesus Christ; to make Latter Day Saints of them.” In the name of the greatest teacher of all, even Jesus Christ, amen.

When I was 17 I was the ward organist, and many times I would take my date to the church so that I could practice the organ, and she would sit and listen. This may well have been because I didn’t have any money, much more than because of her deep love for music, but we started a relationship in doing that and we found that we both liked music. I played the hymns and they brought a lovely spirit to our times together in a chapel as hymns were played with intermittent talk, perhaps followed by a five-cent ice cream cone when I took her home. Now, any one of you reading this might think these were strange kinds of dates, but the important thing in any generation is to find uplifting things you can enjoy together and do them! There’s nothing more boring—and potentially dangerous—than a date that starts out, “Well, what do you want to do?” Be creative, be enthusiastic, and prepare by thinking about the kinds of things that will help you get to know each other better. Decide well in advance where you are going, what you will do, and what time you will be home.

I visited with a young man recently and asked him, “How is your testimony?”
He said, “Well, I want to go on a mission.”
And I said, “Well, do you really feel you know the scriptures?”
He said, “No, I’m going to let my companion do that. I just want to go out. I think I can relate to all the people who have had some problems.”
I said, “What happens when you have a companion who has the same viewpoint you have?”
He looked at me, and a broad grin came over his face. He said, “You have a point there, Elder.” And so he went about studying the scriptures.

I am very grateful to be able to read the New Era. I went to pick up my mail at the mission home today and found out that there wasn’t any mail for me. It’s been over a month since I have had a letter from home, but I was happy to see that my March New Era had arrived. I started reading it while walking down the street, and I walked into a wire that anchored a telephone pole! I read the magazine that day, and before nighttime I had read it from cover to cover. I always used to skip a few articles that didn’t seem interesting, but this time I read every article, and they were all interesting.
Elder Joseph Richard Wright, Jr.Philippines Manila Mission

Marie looked out the car window as she and her Primary class drove to the nursing home. She hoped none of the girls noticed the tears that filled her eyes.
When Sister Gibson had suggested the talent show for an activity day, it seemed like such a good idea. Every girl had gone to work planning the talent she would share. Marie had tried, but she hadn’t been able to come up with anything to do.
A couple of the girls were playing the piano. One girl was playing the violin, and one was singing. Another was reciting a poem she’d written, and Marie’s best friend, Shelley, was going to do a backflip. Andrea wasn’t performing, but she had made cookies for everybody to have after the show.
The more Marie thought about the talent show, the more she was convinced that she didn’t have any talents. She wasn’t even sure why she had come. Sister Gibson had tried to make her feel better, telling her that she hadn’t yet discovered a very special talent that Heavenly Father had given her. But that was hard for Marie to believe. She didn’t think she’d ever be good at anything.
The gathering room at the nursing home was quiet. There were old people everywhere, and that made Marie even more nervous. She didn’t know what to say to them or how to act. The other girls seemed to feel the same way too. They were huddled together, shyly looking around until Sister Gibson showed them where to sit.
Marie still felt bad as the program started. Then, just after the first piano solo, she heard someone coughing behind her. Marie turned around and saw a gray-haired woman whose body shook with each cough.
Marie stopped thinking about herself and started to worry about the woman. She quietly dug a hard candy out of her pocket and went to the woman. She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and held out the small gift. When the wrinkled hand reached for it and the woman smiled at her, Marie felt happiness and peace.
Marie stayed by the woman for the rest of the program. She held her hand and sometimes told her about what was happening. It felt good to be doing something for someone else, and it kept her from feeling sorry for herself.
When it was time to leave, the woman hugged Marie and whispered, “Thank you for talking to me. You have a real talent for making people feel loved.”
On the way back to the church, Marie was grateful to know that she did have a talent after all. When she served others, she felt Heavenly Father’s love, and she helped others feel His love too. That was a pretty special talent to have.

In a BYU devotional from October 16, 2018, Elder Gerrit W. Gong, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, shared a story about an experience where the things he learned in his college years were important many years later.
He said:
“Daily I am grateful for things I learned and experienced at BYU—sometimes years ago. I could not have imagined then, until I have needed them now, how valuable and significant formative BYU lessons and experiences can be.
Here is an example. On a recent flight from Salt Lake City to New York City, my seat assignment was changed at the last moment—in this case, perhaps not without purpose.
I asked my new seat companion if she was traveling to New York or Milan, the plane’s final destination. The question opened a conversation. After explaining she had spent her life as a bilingual, bicultural Italian-English translator, she began quizzing me about Italian art and culture.
As she queried me about Michelangelo, I remembered a BYU humanities class with Professor Todd A. Britsch. I was able to say that in Michelangelo’s statue Pietà, the same piece of Carrara marble feels alive and lifeless at the same time. Mary is alive with compassion while the body of her son, our Savior, hangs lifeless.
My airplane companion nodded approvingly. We then talked about the Sistine Chapel, where God’s vibrant hand touches Adam’s limp hand, and about Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece The Last Supper in Milan.
Then we talked about Dante. After studying Shakespeare for five years in London, she thought Shakespeare might approximate Dante’s genius and accomplishment. What did I think?
I remembered BYU classes on Shakespeare with Professor Arthur Henry King and others, but I diplomatically suggested both Shakespeare and Dante were great literary figures.
Then something unexpected happened. Seemingly out of the blue, this good woman quietly asked, “You want to know how my son died, don’t you?”
We had been discussing Italian art and ­literature—her language of love. I am an amateur in that language, but perhaps because I was willing to try to listen with my heart, she felt she could say, “My son committed suicide. I am going to Italy to make arrangements.” She then added, “I feel you are a man of God. God put you here today because I have no one I can talk to about these things.”
For the rest of the flight we spoke tenderly about God’s plan of happiness, the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and how families can be together forever. I testified of ordinances and covenants found in the holy house of the Lord and invited her to visit the Manhattan New York Temple or, someday, the Rome Italy Temple [iii] .”

A homely story contains a warning. I like this story because it translates easily into different languages and cultures.
Two men formed a partnership. They built a small shed beside a busy road. They obtained a truck and drove it to a farmer’s field, where they purchased a truckload of melons for a dollar a melon. They drove the loaded truck to their shed by the road, where they sold their melons for a dollar a melon. They drove back to the farmer’s field and bought another truckload of melons for a dollar a melon. Transporting them to the roadside, they again sold them for a dollar a melon. As they drove back toward the farmer’s field to get another load, one partner said to the other, “We’re not making much money on this business, are we?” “No, we’re not,” his partner replied. “Do you think we need a bigger truck?”
We don’t need a bigger truckload of information, either. Like the two partners in my story, our biggest need is a clearer focus on how we should value and use what we already have.
Because of modern technology, the contents of huge libraries and other data resources are at the fingertips of many of us. Some choose to spend countless hours in unfocused surfing the Internet, watching trivial television, or scanning other avalanches of information. But to what purpose? Those who engage in such activities are like the two partners in my story, hurrying to and fro, hauling more and more but failing to grasp the essential truth that we cannot make a profit from our efforts until we understand the true value of what is already within our grasp.

I recall another missionary who said, “Two weeks before I was to go see my bishop and get the missionary forms and papers processed, I had some doubts. I had some questions about the future and even about the Church. I walked into the living room and interrupted my father, who was watching television, and said, ‘Dad, I’m not so sure about this Joseph Smith business. I’m not so sure I know the Church is true. I’m not so sure I want to go out and represent it. I have a lot of questions, and I have a lot of misgivings.’
“When I said that, my father walked over and turned off the television, took the cigarette he had in his hand and smashed it in the ashtray, took the can of beer he had in his other hand and put it down on the table, and said, ‘Son, I want you to know that I don’t do very much about it, but I know that the Church of Jesus Christ is true and that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I want you to hear me say it because I know that better than most anything else in this world.’”
This young man then said, “I want my father to know that I appreciate him. He has some habits that he’s not proud of. He has some habits that I’m not proud of. But he is my father, and he has a testimony. I’m pleased I even told him on that occasion ‘Thank you for being my dad.’”

Final thought: There was a young professional woman whose office reported to the Foreign Ministry, or the U.S. State Department equivalent, who attended BYU-Hawaii in 2002. Her name was Lu Lu. At the conclusion of her studies here I inquired with her what she gained the most from her studies.

She replied, "I have thoroughly enjoyed my studies here, because of the students and faculty. I have never met a more giving and loving people. My studies were excellent, the teachers so nice and thoughtful. I am very sad I am leaving this wonderful campus."

When I inquired even more, she said, "Yes, there is on more thing: When I first came to BYUH my goals and objectives were set, I was focused (because her leader was expecting a lot upon here return to China). For me my professional role was more important than family."

"But, something happened here to my surprise, I could not get over the genuine love and kindness of the people here." It bothered her to the point she and others thought this was a coordinated effort or staged by the Mormon people to show this kind of kindness.

"For the first few months I pushed hard on my studies, while at the same time students and faculty were inviting me to come to their homes and church. My feelings were changing on one item, FAMILIES! I observed how the members around here place their families above their profession, and yet did not see their ability to conduct their business fazed."

"One day while speaking with my husband [on the telephone] at the end of my conversation I found myself saying, 'I love you!' He did not say anything and we continued to talk. The following weeks as I spoke to my husband I would always close with 'I love you!' but it was as before. He would say nothing!

"As the months rolled forward here at BYUH, I again said to my husband, 'I love you!' and, again he spoke as before without recognition of my affection. I said in a loud voice, 'didn't you hear what I said?' There was a long pause. He said, 'I know I have heard it over and over again. What are they teaching over there?'"

"Somewhat shocked, I replied, 'What do you mean?' 'I mean if that is what you are learning there, I want to come to BYU Hawaii.'"

Since leaving BYU Hawaii I continue to communicate by email. She sent me an email indicating she loves her work but now there is one item which has brought much fulfillment to her and her husband: She is called, Kitty.

Grandmother Folger’s house buzzed with excitement. Matt Davis, one of her grandchildren, had just returned home from a mission in New Zealand, and everyone had gathered at Grandmother’s that Sunday afternoon for a family dinner. Eight-year-old Jonathan Pratt had just finished a piece of Grandmother’s chocolate cake and was talking with his cousins. Candace was telling a story.
“And then it broke …”
“Candace! Sometimes you are so stupid!” Jonathan exclaimed. “That’s not how it happened at all!” Candace’s face fell, and she looked down at her hands.
“Jonathan,” a voice warned.
He turned around to see his older sister, Christi. “What? What did I do?”
Christi motioned for Jonathan to come and sit by her. “Jonathan, what did you just say?”
Jonathan sighed. “Well, Candace was telling it wrong.”
“Still, Jonathan, it makes Heavenly Father feel bad when you talk about anyone being stupid or dumb. Not only is Candace your cousin, she is a child of God! Do you think Jesus Christ is happy when you call people ‘stupid’?”
Jonathan knew the answer. “No.”
“Then try not to, OK?”
“OK.”
A few days later Christi was driving through the green hills of Maryland. Jonathan was buckled into the seat beside her. The sun was low in the western sky, and the road was crowded with cars going home from work.
“Hurry, Christi! We’re going to be late for the game. Drive faster!”
“I am doing the best I can, Jonathan. We’re almost there.”
Jonathan craned his neck to see how close to the ballpark they were. Then he looked in the outside mirror and made a funny face at himself.
A red sports car cut in front of them, and Christi had to slam on the brakes. “Whoa!” she exclaimed.
The car buzzed on through a yellow light, leaving Jonathan and Christi stuck at the intersection with a red light.
“Ugh!” Jonathan cried. “Now we’ll be late for sure! That lady is so—”
Christi turned her head to see why Jonathan stopped. “What’s the matter?”
Jonathan shrugged his shoulders.
“Why did you stop?”
“Because I remembered that Jesus Christ doesn’t like it when I talk that way.”

Michael J. Williams of the Reading Pennsylvania Ward delivers more than newspapers every morning. Recently, he delivered a life.
One day, while running his normal paper route, Michael noticed an older woman hadn’t retrieved her paper the day before. He knocked on her door to see if she was all right, and when there was no response, he called the police. They found the woman had fallen down her stairs, had a concussion, and had been lying there all day. “If the boy hadn’t said something, I don’t think she would be alive today,” said a neighbor.
Michael is also willing to go the extra mile in early-morning seminary, where he works diligently on scripture-mastery memorization. He is a fine example of a young man who sincerely tries to do his best.

When I was recently assigned to a conference in the Mission Viejo California Stake, I was touched by an account of their four-stake New Year’s Eve youth dance. Following the dance, a purse was found with no outside identification. I share with you part of what Sister Monica Sedgwick, the Young Women president in the Laguna Niguel stake, recorded: “We didn’t want to pry; this was someone’s personal stuff! So we gingerly opened it and grabbed the first thing that was on top—hopefully, it would identify her. It did, but in another way—it was a For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. Wow! This told us something about her. Then we reached in for the next item, a little notebook. Surely this would give us answers, but not the kind we were expecting. The first page was a list of favorite scriptures. There were five more pages of carefully written scriptures and personal notes.”
The sisters immediately wanted to meet this stalwart young woman. They returned to that purse to identify its owner. They pulled out some breath mints, soap, lotion, and a brush. I loved their comments: “Oh, good things come out of her mouth; she has clean and soft hands; and she takes care of herself.”
They eagerly awaited the next treasure. Out came a clever little homemade coin purse made from a cardboard juice carton, and there was some money in a zippered pocket. They exclaimed, “Ahh, she’s creative and prepared!” They felt like little children on Christmas morning. What they pulled out next surprised them even more: a recipe for Black Forest chocolate cake and a note to make the cake for a friend’s birthday. They almost screamed, “She’s a HOMEMAKER! Thoughtful and service minded.” Then, yes, finally some identification. The youth leaders said they felt greatly blessed “to observe the quiet example of a young lady living the gospel.”6

When John Taylor was called to serve a mission in England with Wilford Woodruff, he was very poor. He arrived in New York with only one cent left.
Parley Pratt, who wanted to publish information about the Church, asked John if he had any money.
John: I have plenty of money.
Parley: I need funds for publishing. Could you give me two or three hundred dollars?
John: Well, Brother Parley, you are welcome to anything I have, if it will be of service to you.
Parley: I thought you said you had plenty of money!
John: I have clothes to wear, and you give me food and a place to stay. With a penny over, I owe nothing. Is that not plenty?
Some of the brethren preparing to go to England had a meeting and decided that they should help John pay for his passage to England.
John: No! If you have any extra money, give it to Parley to help support his family and publish his pamphlets.
Brother: But how will you get to England without money?
John wasn’t worried. As he started on his journey, he never asked for money. But people followed the promptings of the Holy Ghost and donated enough to pay not only for his passage to England, but also for another elder. John had known that the Lord would take care of him.

When I was nine years old, my family purchased a farm and moved to the small town of Fairfield, Utah. I felt that life there was the best a young boy could possibly have. I was fortunate enough to have three outstanding friends my age. In the summertime we swam in a natural swimming hole filled with clear well water. In the wintertime we ice-skated on frozen sinkholes.
Each year as winter approached, a number of sheep herds came through town. One year one of the herds camped about a mile from our home so that the sheep could graze on the sagebrush-covered floor of the valley. The sheepherder left in charge stopped his horse-drawn wagon, which he called a “sheep camp,” not far from a large gully. I remember wondering what life as a sheepherder was like. So with the permission of my parents, I rode my horse out to the sheep camp and introduced myself to the sheepherder. We developed an immediate friendship, and although it only lasted a very short time, it taught me a valuable lesson.
One day as I arrived at his camp, he was about to saddle up and ride around the herd to make sure that everything was all right. He had selected a horse I had never seen him ride before, and the horse seemed nervous. Usually my friend kept the saddle on a cart wheel and simply threw it onto his horse. After buckling the cinch, he would mount the horse and ride past the rear door of the camp, away from the gully, and toward the sheep. It seemed to me he had mastered the art of taking as few steps as possible in accomplishing all these tasks.
This day was different. He watched the horse very carefully. He seemed to take more time than usual in putting the saddle on and in making sure that all the rigging was just right. When he finished, I expected him to just get on the horse as he always had. Instead, he led the horse away from both the sheep camp and the gully.
I followed him and asked about this sudden change in procedure. His answer taught me a lesson that has been important all my life. He said, “This horse isn’t fully broken and therefore can’t be fully trusted. He’s apt to buck or run off in any direction. I didn’t want him to be near the sheep camp or the gully when I got on, for fear he’d begin to buck and get tangled up in the sheep camp and get hurt, or fall into the gully—then we’d both get hurt. So I brought him out here where there’s plenty of room for him to make whatever mistakes he is going to make without getting either of us hurt.”