Gospel Story Finder

“Will you give the blessing if she wants you to?” asked Jacob on the other end of the phone line. Jacob, my home teaching companion, explained that one of the people we home taught wanted a blessing.
“What would I say in a blessing?” I wondered. I was only 18, and I’d just become an elder and moved away to college. I had prepared my whole life to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, but I had never thought about the day when I would really need to use it.
I hesitated, swallowed hard, and then heard myself say reluctantly, “Yes.” As soon as I realized what I had said, I cut the word so short that it was hardly audible. I hadn’t meant to say it, but somehow it had popped out of my mouth.
“Great!” cheered the enthusiastic voice. “I’ll be over in a couple of minutes.”
I stood by the phone in my basement apartment, considering calling Jacob back to tell him I couldn’t do it. Then I remembered my dad. Whenever he had to give a blessing, he went quietly into another room and prayed first. He would always say, “Just a second,” and then go say a prayer without anyone noticing. I had noticed though.
Alone in my apartment, I knelt down next to the couch. I bowed my head and started to pray: “Heavenly Father, I might be giving a blessing in a few minutes, and I’ve never done it before. If it be Thy will, help me to have my mind clear of my own thoughts and help me to know by the Spirit what I should say.”
As I stood up, I had a peaceful feeling that I was worthy and that the Spirit would tell me what I needed to say when I needed to say it. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Several minutes later Jacob and I were in our suits and ties, sitting in the home of the young lady we home taught. The three of us talked for a few minutes about how her life was going. She was having a difficult time and hoped a priesthood blessing would help.
“Who would you like to give the blessing?” Jacob inquired.
She turned to me. “Will you give the blessing?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, this time without cutting the word short.
We pulled a white metal chair from the kitchen table into the middle of the room. As I laid my hands on her head, I silently repeated my prayer that I would know what to say. Jacob placed his hands on top of mine, and I began speaking: “By the authority of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood, we lay our hands upon your head and give you a blessing …”
As soon as I finished speaking those words, I knew what to say next. She had told us what her troubles were, and some of the words that came to my mind were about those troubles. Some of the words, though, dealt with things she hadn’t even mentioned. It wasn’t as though I thought ahead about what to say next; the words just came to my mind. They weren’t words I had heard my dad or my companion use. I could feel the Spirit telling me what to say.
After I ended the blessing, she looked up with tears in her eyes and thanked me. I realized I also had tears in my eyes, and I silently thanked my Heavenly Father. He really does inspire worthy priesthood holders. I learned that truth because I had prepared myself to be worthy to receive and use the Melchizedek Priesthood.

At another time my companion and I visited two sisters who lived with their mother. Both had a great desire for their mother to join the Church, and whenever we came to visit, they would call for her to join us. But she would always answer, “I’m busy,” or “I have a lot to do,” in an unfriendly tone.
One wintry day—a day when we got so cold and tired that we practically had to force ourselves to finish our visiting—our last stop was at the house of this aloof woman. But when she opened the door, we could see that her whole countenance was changed. Her little granddaughter had just fallen and cut her forehead and was bleeding profusely above the eyebrow. I took a towel and pressed it hard against the wound while my companion quickly found coats so that we could take a taxi to the hospital. While the child was taken care of, we comforted the grandmother and watched the other little girl. Then we took everyone home. Eventually this woman became a member of the Church and a visiting teacher.

Sometimes Joby forgot things—like the time he forgot not to laugh when his brother fell down the stairs. Another time he forgot to walk straight home after school so he wouldn’t miss his four o’clock dentist appointment. But he’d had more important things on his mind that day—like stopping to catch catfish at the canal with Toby Baxter.

But what Joby didn’t forget was something he did every night before he went to bed. Something besides saying his prayers and giving Agatha, his hamster, a good-night kiss. It was something he had heard the prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball, talk about many times during general conferences. That something was keeping a daily journal.

One particular family home evening, Joby shared some of his recorded thoughts and feelings with his family. I was so touched by what we heard (even though it was the second time for me) that I asked Joby if he would share some of his thoughts and feelings with children all over the world.

Joby’s eyes grew as round as July melons. “Wow!” he exclaimed.

Here are a few entries from Joby’s daily journal:
March 8 I ran around the block with my dad. He got tired. Old people do that.
March 14 I like a girl named Jessica.
March 18 I sang in sacrament meeting on a Primary program.
March 23 My girl friend said I could chase her around.
March 27 I was sick today.
April 2 We watched a television show about Jesus, and I saw my dad crying when they hung Jesus on the cross.
April 11 I got angry feelings when my girl friend said she liked some other boy better than me. Then I gave her one of my best marbles, and she let me sit by by her. I gave her another of my best marbles, and she said she likes me best. My dad said, “That’s using your marbles.”
April 17 I did the family home evening lesson. Mom and Dad helped me.
April 18 I made a new friend. His name is Chad. He has lots of trucks and cool stuff like that.
April 26 Mom’s real busy with her new Church job. I saw her praying about it.
April 27 It isn’t the same when the baby-sitter tucks me in.
May 16 I can’t remember any stuff that happened today.
May 17 My dad pulled me around the block in the wagon. It was tied to his old bike. I love my dad.
May 22 I got hit in the head with a rock and had to have four stitches. A girl at school did it. Not my girl friend. If it had been her, I would have taken my marbles back.
May 23 Today was hot and windy.
May 24 I passed kindergarten. I guess I’m sort of getting grown-up. But I still like marbles and stuff.
June 1 I played and played and played.
June 2 I played cowboys and got shot lots of times.
June 10 Today we went to church. Sometimes I think I don’t want to go, but I know that is where Heavenly Father wants me to be. I just know.
June 12 We went to a cabin in the mountains. We fed the birds and squirrels and ran around a lot. It got dark, and we heard strange sounds, but that was OK because Mom said Heavenly Father was close-by.
June 14 The new grass in the backyard is starting to come out of the ground and be green.
June 16 I don’t know about today.
June 18 I’m glad school doesn’t mess up summer.
June 19 I played and then I got tired, so night came.
June 20 We went to the canal. The water was going by. The big spider was still there, and I almost caught a water bug.
June 21 Dad paid me a penny for each grasshopper I took out of the garden because he doesn’t want to hurt them. He says all of God’s creatures have feelings.
June 22 I rode on Nathan’s Big Wheel because I still can’t ride my bike. I just fall off better than I stay on.
June 23 My dad says I’m getting big too fast. I can’t help it. Mom makes me eat all my asparagus and stuff.
June 24 Church day. And so that was what it was.
June 26 We went to Uncle David’s and played on the trampoline, and then we came home because you can’t jump on it very well in the dark.
June 27 I let my grasshoppers go. I think they were homesick.
June 30 I watched my red ants making tunnels. Heavenly Father must have good eyes to make such tiny things. I can’t even see how their legs go on.
July 1 I’m still watching my ants.
July 5 Great-Grandma’s birthday. She’s real old today.
July 6 I learned how to ride my bike. Hurray!
July 8 Church day. So that is where we were.
July 12 Went to the mountains with Dad. We got rocks and slept up there. It got real dark and cold.
July 24 We went to a big parade. It was about the Mormon pioneers. A clown painted my nose red. I guess maybe he needed a friend.
July 27 My hamster’s leg broke.
July 31 I rode my bike. I like the way the wind feels on me.
Aug. 13 We put some pretty flowers on Grandpa’s grave. I miss him.
Aug. 14 I like the woods at Grandma’s. There are shadows and quiet places. Today I saw a squirrel there and thought about Grandpa.
Aug. 18 I lost my hamster. She’s in our house someplace.
Aug. 20 I prayed I would get my hamster back, and I did.
Aug. 26 Dad gave me a father’s blessing because I went into first grade today. It made me feel good.
Aug. 29 I kind of like school—kind of.
Aug. 30 I guess I like to play best.
Aug. 31 I got home early today. It feels good at home.
Sept. 10 I caught a spider. It likes dead flies best, so that is what it got.
Sept. 14 Some things I don’t like are cauliflower and asparagus and naps and kids who push me around. All of them happened today, so I’m glad today is over. Oh! I almost forgot to kiss Agatha goodnight.
Sept. 24 My dad told us a story about a robot named Mister Green and a kid who made him and some fun stuff they did. Then he talked about some things the prophet does. Dad said he is one of the most special people and that we should read his words because he talks for Jesus. I would like to meet him someday and shake his hand and always do the things he says.
Joby is ready to start a second journal. “One day,” he said, “I’m going to have a lot of neat stuff to show my children, and maybe someday even Heavenly Father might like to read it. I know He’s real busy, but if He has time, He can just come over, because I’ll be living close to where He is.”

Two or three weeks after his baptism, Lorenzo received the certainty he desired. During the time he had sought his initial testimony of the gospel, he had retired each night to a grove near his home and sought the Lord in prayer. One evening he felt no inclination to pray. The heavens, he said, seemed like brass over his head. But though he did not feel in the mood for prayer, he went, as he was accustomed to do, to his place of prayer.
“I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray,” he later said, “than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the Spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O, the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge, as it was at that time imparted to my understanding. I then received a perfect knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the holy Priesthood, and the fulness of the Gospel. It was a complete baptism—a tangible immersion … even more real and physical in its effects upon every part of my system than the immersion by water.”
This knowledge was of far greater value to him than all the wealth and honors the world could bestow. In faith, he had made his decision to join the Saints, and in response to his faith, the Lord had given him the peace of mind he had desired.

“Can we visit Heavenly Father?” Tara asked Dad as she got ready for bed.
“Probably not for a long time,” Dad answered.
“Last summer we flew on an airplane to visit Grandma Hill. We could fly on an airplane,” Tara said.
“We can’t get there on an airplane,” Dad said.
“At Christmas, we went by train to see Papa and Nana Flowers. Maybe we could go by train,” Tara said hopefully.
“I’m afraid a train can’t take us there, either,” Dad said.
“Sometimes we drive in our car to visit friends,” Tara told father. “Let’s go by car. Or, I know, we can go by boat.” Tara was remembering the boat ride they had taken across the river.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said. “Not even a car or a boat can take us to Heavenly Father.”
Tara felt sad. She wanted to visit Heavenly Father. Daddy pulled her onto his lap and kissed her forehead. “We can’t visit Heavenly Father, but you can talk to Him,” Dad said.
“You mean I can call Him on the telephone or send Him a letter?”
“No, but there’s something else you can do. Think about it.”
As she got ready for bed, Tara wondered how she could talk to Heavenly Father. She still couldn’t figure out what Dad had meant.
When Dad came into her room to listen to her say her prayers, she knelt, then jumped up and hugged Dad. “I know—I can talk to Heavenly Father by saying my prayers!”
“That’s right,” Dad said, hugging her back. “And He will always listen.”

I was privileged to have a small role in a marvelous example of this kind of love. When I was serving as President of the Pacific Islands Area, I received a call from President R. Wayne Shute. As a young man, he served a mission in Samoa. Later, he returned to Samoa as a mission president.8 When he telephoned me, he was the Apia Samoa Temple president. One of his young missionaries, when he was mission president, was Elder O. Vincent Haleck, who is now the Area President in the Pacific. President Shute had great love and respect for Vince and the entire Haleck family. Most of the family were members of the Church, but Vince’s father, Otto Haleck, the patriarch of the family (of German and Samoan descent), was not a member. President Shute knew I was attending a stake conference and other meetings in American Samoa, and he asked me if I would consider staying in Otto Haleck’s residence with the view of sharing the gospel with him.
My wife, Mary, and I stayed with Otto and his wife, Dorothy, in their beautiful home. At breakfast I shared a gospel message and invited Otto to meet with the missionaries. He was kind, but firm, in refusing my invitation. He said he was pleased that many members of his family were Latter-day Saints. But he forcefully indicated that some of his Samoan mother’s ancestors had been early Christian ministers in Samoa, and he felt a great allegiance to their traditional Christian faith.9 Nevertheless, we left as good friends.
Later, when President Gordon B. Hinckley was preparing to dedicate the Suva Fiji Temple, he had his personal secretary, Brother Don H. Staheli,10 call me in New Zealand to make arrangements. President Hinckley wanted to fly from Fiji to American Samoa to meet the Saints. A certain hotel used in a previous visit was suggested. I asked if I could make different arrangements. Brother Staheli said, “You are the Area President; that would be fine.”
I immediately called President Shute and told him that perhaps we had a second chance at spiritually blessing our friend Otto Haleck. This time the missionary would be President Gordon B. Hinckley. I asked if he thought it would be appropriate for the Halecks to host all of us in President Hinckley’s travel group.11 President and Sister Hinckley, their daughter Jane, and Elder and Sister Jeffrey R. Holland were also part of the travel group. President Shute, working with the family, made all the arrangements.12
When we arrived from Fiji after the temple dedication, we were warmly greeted.13 We spoke that evening to thousands of Samoan members and then proceeded to the Haleck family compound. When we gathered for breakfast the next morning, President Hinckley and Otto Haleck had already become good friends. It was interesting to me that they were having much the same conversation I had had with Otto more than a year earlier. When Otto expressed his admiration for our Church but reaffirmed his commitment to his existing church, President Hinckley put his hand on Otto’s shoulder and said, “Otto, that’s not good enough; you ought to be a member of the Church. This is the Lord’s Church.” You figuratively could see the resistive armor fall away from Otto with an openness to what President Hinckley said.
This was the beginning of additional missionary teaching and a spiritual humility that allowed Otto Haleck to be baptized and confirmed a little over a year later. One year after that, the Haleck family was sealed as an eternal family in the temple.14
What touched my heart throughout this incredible experience was the overwhelming ministering love exhibited by President Wayne Shute for his former missionary, Elder Vince Haleck, and his desire to see the entire Haleck family united as an eternal family.15

Gary and Tommy were building a bridge. It had rained that day, and the rain had made a little brook through Gary’s backyard.

“I’m going to be an engineer when I grow up,” declared Gary. “I’m going to build bridges just like the ones my daddy builds.”

“I’m going to be a truck driver,” announced Tommy. “I’m going to drive a great big trailer truck. I’ll bet my truck will be the biggest in the whole world!”

“It better not be too big,” said Gary, “or it can’t go under or over some bridges.” Then he ran over to the garage to get another board. His family had just moved in, and there were plenty of boards from the empty furniture crates. Gary’s toys hadn’t come yet, so the boys were playing with Tommy’s big blue truck.

“I’m going to load my truck with rocks,” Tommy said, “and drive it over the bridge.”

“The bridge isn’t ready yet,” said Gary. “Wait till I get this board in place.”

But Tommy wouldn’t wait. “Here I come,” he said, and started his truck along the road toward the bridge. It was a muddy road, but Tommy pushed and pushed till he got his truck up onto the narrow bridge. Then one wheel went off the edge, and the whole truck with its load of stones fell into the brook.

“I’ll help you pick them up,” said Gary.

“You leave them alone,” said Tommy. “They’re my rocks. If you’d built your old bridge better, my truck wouldn’t have gone off the edge.”

Tommy started picking his rocks out of the water. When he turned around, Gary was backing the truck down so he could help put the rocks back in. Tommy dropped the rocks and grabbed his truck. “That’s my truck!” Tommy said. And away he ran, leaving Gary all by himself.

Gary looked puzzled, but after a minute he began to work on the bridge again. “It’s going to be a four-lane bridge,” he said to himself, “just like the one Daddy is building.”

Tommy ran into the kitchen as soon as he got home. “Mom,” he called, “Gary pushed my truck into the water.”

“That’s too bad,” Tommy’s mother said. “How did it happen?”

“We were building a bridge, and Gary didn’t make it wide enough, and my truck fell off into the water and got all wet.”

“Oh,” said Tommy’s mother. “I thought you said Gary pushed it.”

Tommy didn’t say anything for a minute. His mother took a pan of cookies out of the oven. Reluctantly Tommy said, “I guess he didn’t really push it. But it’s my truck and Gary didn’t have any right to play with it.”

“Whose bridge were you driving it over?” asked Tommy’s mother.

“Well,” said Tommy finally, “we both started to build it, but I guess the boards were Gary’s.” Then he turned and started to go back outdoors. “I don’t care,” he said. “He can’t have my truck. I’m going to play in my sandbox!” Tommy slammed the door.

Tommy made a road in his sandbox, but when he tried to run his truck on it, the road wasn’t big enough for the truck to turn the corners. He looked for some boards to make a bridge up to the sandbox, but he couldn’t find any. Tommy tried pushing two trucks to make believe he was two truck drivers, but that wasn’t much fun. He sat down on the back steps to think.

At last Tommy got up and went slowly into the kitchen. “Mom,” he asked, “may I go back over to Gary’s yard to play?”

“What would you play with?” asked his mother.

“I’ll take Gary one of my trucks,” said Tommy. “Then we’ll each have one.”

Tommy’s mother smiled. “Would you like to load some cookies onto your trucks? I’ll wrap them in waxed paper for you.”

“Thanks, Mom!” said Tommy.

Two minutes later Tommy was back in Gary’s yard, holding a truck carefully in each hand so as not to spill the cookies. “Gary!” he called. “I brought you a truck.”

“That’s neat,” said Gary. “See, I’ve built the bridge wide enough so that we can both go over it at the same time.”

“That’ll be fun,” said Tommy. “I guess bridge builders and truck drivers have to work together.”

“I guess ’most everybody does,” said Gary.

There it was, rising above the desert like a huge mound of bread dough, but instead of being soft, it was solid rock. The Young Women of the Alice Springs Branch in the Australia Adelaide Mission meant to climb to the top of this natural marvel.
The rock, known as Ayers Rock, is located southwest of Alice Springs. It is one of the world’s largest monoliths because it was formed from one huge, unfractured piece of rock. The steep climb, about two kilometers, was not an easy task, but most of the young women and their leaders made it to the top to see the beautiful view.
The three-day trip also included a hike through the Olgas, a cluster of round-topped mountains near Ayers Rock. The group traveled in all-terrain vehicles because of the rough desert country. The highlight was the testimony meeting held at the base of one of the Olgas as the sun went down.
“We had great fun. The view from Ayers Rock was worth the scary climb.” Joanne Thompson, 17
“We had a testimony meeting at sunset at the Olgas which was really special. It makes you appreciate how beautiful God’s creations are.” Rebecca Clement, 16

We all have heroes, particularly when we are young. I was born and grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, in the United States. The most famous sports teams near where we lived were headquartered in New York City. It was the home of three professional baseball teams in those faraway days: the Brooklyn Dodgers, the New York Giants, and the New York Yankees. Philadelphia was even closer to our home and was the home of the Athletics and the Phillies baseball teams. There were many potential baseball heroes for me on those teams.
Joe DiMaggio, who played for the New York Yankees, became my baseball hero. When my brothers and my friends played baseball on the school grounds next to our house, I tried to swing the bat the way I thought Joe DiMaggio did it. That was before the days of television (this is ancient history), so I only had pictures from newspapers to use to copy his swing.
When I was growing up, my father drove me to Yankee Stadium. That was the only time I saw Joe DiMaggio play. As if I am still there, in my mind I can see him swing the bat and see the white baseball fly straight into the stands at center field.
Now, my baseball skills never came close to those of my childhood hero. But the few times I hit a baseball well, I copied the level of his powerful swing as closely as I could.

In our squadron I had a dear friend who was an outstanding football player. Years before, his team played in a New Year’s Day bowl game. Before a sold-out stadium and a large television audience, his team lost 61-6. It turned out he and a few other members of his team had not kept the training rules. They paid a dear price. They had to live with knowing they were not prepared to play the big game; they had to live with the final score for the rest of their lives.
Years passed. Two members of this same football team were in my flight training unit. One was an exemplary, well-disciplined student and a model pilot who had learned his lesson well from the bowl game.
However, the other had not learned to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When his turn would come to learn emergency procedures and to precondition his mental and physical responses so they would be automatic, even instantaneous, my friend would put his arm around the airman instructor and say, “Check me off for three hours of emergency procedure.” Then, instead of training, he would go to the pistol range or play golf or go to the officers’ club. But he never learned the emergency procedures.
On one occasion he was asked what he would do in an emergency. His answer: “I am never going to bail out; I am never going to have an emergency.”
On an evening mission a few months later, fire erupted in his plane, and it dropped below 5,000 feet, spinning in flames. Noting the fire warning light, the younger pilot who was with him said, “Let’s get out of here.” And with the centrifugal force pulling against him, the younger man, who had taken his training seriously, bailed out. His parachute opened at once and he slammed to the ground, receiving serious injuries. But he survived.
On the other hand, my friend stayed with the airplane and died in the crash. He paid the price for not having learned the lessons that could have saved his life.

For instance, President Thomas S. Monson remembered the promised words of the Savior as he blessed me six months ago to stand fearlessly in my calling when it seemed hard. These words of the Savior, which He gave to His tiny band of priesthood holders in this dispensation, came to the prophet’s mind as he laid his hands on my head: “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for 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.”
The promise which President Monson remembered and quoted was fulfilled for me. Confidence replaced doubt, the Spirit came, medical helpers were inspired, my life was preserved, and I was borne up. Because of that blessing by President Monson, it will always be easy for me to remember the Savior and trust His promise that He goes before and beside us in His service.

For family home evening our family decided to spread hay on our garden. It’s not in our yard, so we had to drive there. Some of us didn’t want to go because it looked like it was about to rain. Then we remembered that President Spencer W. Kimball had said to plant a garden. When we got there the storm hit, so we left. Arriving home we discovered that a big branch from our neighbor’s tree had fallen onto our driveway! If we had not left, our car would have been crushed! We are glad to be blessed when we follow the prophet.

A faithful member shared her testimony of how the power of goodness influenced her life. She writes:
“Until I was about eight years old, I was oblivious to the fact that my mother had serious health problems—later diagnosed as multiple sclerosis. When I was a first-year Beehive, I awoke one May morning to find that my mother was paralyzed from the neck down. She was already blind.”
Confined to her bed, this courageous woman became the hub of the household. Her daughter wrote:
“One day it fell upon me to clean the oven, a chore I approached with self-pity and much complaining. I went into her bedroom to whine a little and realized that Mom was crying. She said, ‘Do you know how much I would give to be able to get up and scrub that oven?’ I gained a different perspective on the nature of work. To this day, I think of that experience every time the oven needs cleaning.”
She continues: “An unusual blessing came to me in having my mother available. She listened patiently to my early-adolescent concerns and questions. She made me feel like the most important and interesting person in the world. She was always HOME—attentive, interested, and always available.”
Her mother died the spring of her senior year. She relates:
“One of the hardest moments in my young life was the day I returned home from school to an empty house and walked down that long hallway to her bedroom. My built-in counselor and confidante was no longer there, but she had given me those eternal, intangible gifts of love, wisdom, and acceptance. I will be forever grateful for her goodness.”
This strong woman, though physically helpless, had the power to love, to motivate, to inspire, to perpetuate righteousness, to do good.

Sister Johnson wasn’t the only one who used birds as a teaching tool. My mother was an outstanding woman, diligent in many ways. In particular, I remember her helping me earn my bird-watching merit badge.
I come from a family of eleven children. My mother must have gone to bed very tired each night. Nevertheless, she still got up early, woke me up, and drove me out into the countryside and pointed out the different birds to me. I will never forget that lesson of love.

I would like to share another experience of faith. Being the only child, Elder Hermelindo Coy said good-bye to his mother and left for the first time in his life his small village in the mountains of Senahú, Guatemala. He entered the Missionary Training Center the 14th of March 1991. Although he had been a member of the Church for only two years and was very timid about talking to people, his determination to serve was great. His formal education was less than five years of elementary school in his native language of Kekchí. Spanish, the official language of Guatemala, was foreign to him.
During his mission he learned to live with pain in his leg. He rarely complained. In August 1992 he noticed, in addition to the increase in the pain, something abnormal about his knee. The diagnosis was bone cancer. A more careful exam revealed cancer in the liver, lungs, and lymphatic system; in other words, his illness was terminal. He did not understand the nature of the illness nor its seriousness. With the help of a translator and using examples from the farm life with which he was familiar, he came to understand that he had little time to live.
He never asked, Why is this happening to me? He did not lament nor express negative feelings. He was obedient to all that was required of him. He was asked if he would like to return home, but he asked to remain in the mission and serve as long as possible, even until his death.
By October he walked with difficulty, requiring the use of a cane. He could only work a few hours each day. By December he was unable to walk. For the first time he was discouraged because he could not proselyte. His worry was always who would take care of his mother after he died.
In one of his visits, the mission president asked him to teach more of the basic doctrine to his mother, who, along with mission nurses, was providing 24-hour care. When he taught the plan of salvation to his mother in his native tongue, his face radiated assurance and light. Elder Coy was understanding with power and conviction what he was teaching.
As his strength declined, he placed his complete trust in the Lord. On one occasion when the pain was very strong, he expressed in prayer, “Heavenly Father, I do not know the day nor the hour that I will die, but I want to know soon from thee about my new assignment.” He died in February 1993. His death blessed all the missionaries, leaders, members, and even nonmembers who learned of his courage to serve and endure to the end. His faith was so simple that it was contagious. He never feared death. He strengthened all who knew him.

As we drove to the old hotel on Main Street, Debbie asked, “What are your parents like?”
“They’re super-Mormons.”
“What does that mean?”
“My dad doesn’t do anything but take care of his business and work for the Church. No golf, no bowling, no country club bridge games. He’s either opening a new gas station or attending some Church meeting.”
We pulled into the parking lot along side the hotel.
“I remember a few years ago he took the family to Yellowstone Park where we lived in a trailer. ‘No phones, no meetings. A chance to get where nobody can get ahold of us,’ he told us. But about Wednesday he wandered over to the MIA they have there for the park employees. By the end of the week he was up to his neck in Church work again, showing them how to improve their home teaching.”

Once when traveling with Elder and Sister Russell M. Nelson, we left our hotel in Bombay, India, to catch a plane for Karachi, Pakistan, and then on to Islamabad. When we got to the chaotic airport, our flight had been canceled. Impatiently, I said to the man at the airline counter, “What do you expect us to do, just give up and go back to the hotel?” He said with great dignity, “Sir, you never go back to the hotel.” We rummaged about the airport, found a flight, kept the appointment in Islamabad, and even had a night’s sleep. Sometimes life is like that: we are left to press forward and endure frustrated expectations—refusing to “go back to the hotel”! Otherwise, such “give-up-itis” will affect all seasons of life. Besides, the Lord knows how many miles we have to go “before [we] sleep”! (“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”).

When Mrs. Johnson’s poodle, Ricky, died, all the children in the neighborhood were sad. Ricky had been a nice dog, and the children loved to pet him and play with him. They thought that the man who ran over him must have been very mean, and they wanted to help Mrs. Johnson get even with him.
One day when Julie and Sandy were on their way home from school, they saw Mrs. Johnson sitting in the swing on her porch. They thought about passing by her house without talking to her because they didn’t know what to say. But Mrs. Johnson called to them, and they knew that it wouldn’t be very nice to just ignore her.
“I guess you heard about what happened to Ricky,” Mrs. Johnson said. Her voice was very sad.
“Yes,” said Julie, “and if we ever find out who did it, we’ll help you get even.”
“We’ll make him sorry that he ever ran over a nice dog like Ricky,” Sandy chimed in.
Mrs. Johnson moved to one side of her swing and asked them to sit next to her. “I don’t want you to get even for me,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Wouldn’t be right?” Julie asked.
“After what he did to you,” Sandy said, “I thought that you would want to get even.”
“Oh no,” replied Mrs. Johnson. “I miss Ricky very much. But getting even with the man who hit him won’t bring him back to me.”
“Well, that’s true,” Julie said, “but it should make you feel better to know that you made him feel as bad as you do.”
“Oh no!” Mrs. Johnson said quickly. Then she asked, “How would you feel if you had been the one who ran over Ricky?”
“I would feel awful,” the children said together.
“Well,” Mrs. Johnson told them, “I think that the man who hit Ricky felt very bad too.”
“You mean you talked to him?” Julie asked.
“Oh yes,” replied Mrs. Johnson. “He came to my door right after it happened and told me that he was sorry. I could tell that he really meant what he said.”
Just then a car pulled up in front of Mrs. Johnson’s house, and a young man got out. He was carrying something small wrapped in a blanket. “Mrs. Johnson,” he said softly, “I have something for you. I know that he won’t take Ricky’s place, but I hope that you’ll like him.”
When the young man opened the blanket, the children saw a small black puppy. It did not look like Ricky, but its tail was wagging and it had big brown eyes.
Mrs. Johnson smiled as she picked the puppy up and gave it a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “That was very nice of you.”
“I’m glad that you like him,” said the young man. Then he went back to his car and drove away.
Sandy and Julie stayed to play with the new puppy while Mrs. Johnson went to the store to buy dog food. They were very happy that Mrs. Johnson had a new friend to stay with her now. They were also surprised that the man who had run over Ricky was so nice.
“You know, there is one thing that I’m glad we didn’t do,” said Sandy to Julie after a while.
“What’s that?” asked Julie as she rolled a small rubber ball across the porch for the puppy to chase.
“I’m really glad that we never had a chance to get even,” Sandy replied.

Years ago, Elder John H. Groberg related the story of a young family living in a small branch in Hawaii in the early 1900s. They had been members of the Church for about two years when one of their daughters fell ill with an undiagnosed disease and was hospitalized. At church the next Sunday, the father and his son prepared the sacrament as they did most weeks, but as the young father knelt to bless the bread, the branch president, suddenly realizing who was at the sacrament table, jumped up and cried, “Stop. You can’t touch the sacrament. Your daughter has an unknown disease. Leave immediately while someone else fixes new sacrament bread. We can’t have you here. Go.” The stunned father searchingly looked at the branch president and then the congregation and, sensing the depth of anxiety and embarrassment from all, motioned to his family, and they quietly filed out of the chapel.

Not a word was said as, dejectedly, the family walked along the trail to their small home. There they sat in a circle, and the father said, “Please be silent until I am ready to speak.” The young son wondered what they would do to get revenge for the shame they had suffered: would they kill the branch president’s pigs, or burn his house, or join another church? Five, ten, fifteen, twenty-five minutes passed in silence.

The father’s clenched fists began to relax, and tears formed. The mother began to cry, and soon each of the children was quietly weeping. The father turned to his wife and said, “I love you,” and then repeated those words to each of their children. “I love all of you and I want us to be together, forever, as a family. And the only way that can be is for all of us to be good members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and be sealed by the holy priesthood in the temple. This is not the branch president’s church. It is the Church of Jesus Christ. We will not allow any man or any hurt or embarrassment or pride to keep us from being together forever. Next Sunday we will go back to church. We will stay by ourselves until our daughter’s sickness is known, but we will go back.”

They did go back, their daughter recovered, and the family was sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple when it was completed. Today, well over 100 souls call their father, grandfather, and great-grandfather blessed because he kept his eyes on eternity.

Another story about my mother had an even greater impact on me. It shaped how I resolved to live my life.
When I was a priest, my assignment one Sunday was to bless the sacrament in Sunday School. In those days, we took the sacrament during Sunday School in the morning, and then returned for sacrament meeting in the evening.
I had a 1946 Chevy coupe that I had made into a hot rod, and I wanted to compete in some races that were being held that Sunday. I knew that my parents would not approve, so I said nothing. I am ashamed to say it, but I left church and went to the drag races. I raced one time and lost.
When I returned home, my mother was standing at the kitchen sink, finishing up the dinner dishes. I could see tears on her cheeks. I asked, “Mom, what’s the matter?”
She turned and asked, “Son, where have we failed as parents that you feel you can violate the Lord’s holy day?”
I couldn’t bear it! My dear mother was taking the blame and burden for my wrongdoing.
That moment helped me understand more about the Atonement of Jesus Christ, that someone else was willing to bear the burden of my wrong choice. I began to understand how the Savior could do that for me because I saw my mother do it in this instance.