Gospel Story Finder

Michelle scooped potatoes onto her plate. She looked around the table at her family. She was the youngest of 10 siblings, and some of them were in college now. She liked to hear them talk about what they were learning.
“What do you want to study when you go to college?” her brother asked. He was studying to become an engineer.
“I don’t really know yet,” Michelle said.
“You can be an engineer too,” he told her. “You’re really smart.”
Michelle liked that idea. She loved math and science. She was good at them too. She knew God wanted her to learn. And she knew that He would help her.
When Michelle got older, she did go to college to become an engineer. She worked hard to learn. Some classes were difficult. But Michelle never gave up.
While she was in college, she shared the gospel with her classmate John. Later they got married in the temple. Michelle graduated and got her master’s degree. She became a mother. She even got her dream job helping launch rockets to explore space! She was a leader and organized projects for her team.

Just to illustrate this, one day when President Cowley and I were traveling, we arrived at the home of Brother Stewart Meha, a great and wonderful Maori man. He was in every way a pure patriarch. He had never been ordained a patriarch—he just was one, and he presided over his large family as a true father and leader. President Cowley and Brother Meha spent all afternoon sitting on the porch just talking about the Church and other interesting things. I listened to them part of the time and then visited with the kids and others who lived in this little area near Brother Meha’s home. Incidentally, there were two or three other homes in this little Maori village, but I discovered that most of the people living there belonged to his family. They were his children and his grandchildren.

When it came time for the evening meal, Brother Meha stood on his front porch and, in the Maori language, shouted out to all of his large family, “Haere Mai Ki Te Kai.” Then he said, “Haere Mai Ki Te Karakia.” This simply meant “Come on home for supper” and “Come on home for prayer.” Soon family members came from every direction. We all assembled in his home in the big front room. This room had very little furniture in it, and everybody gathered in a large circle. Brother Meha was at the head of the circle and on his left was President Cowley. I was next to the president. On Brother Meha’s right was a little child about eight years of age. All around the rest of the circle were the other children with some adults in between.

Finally Brother Meha said to the little boy on his right, “You start.” I bowed my head in anticipation of the little boy’s prayer. Instead of praying, he quoted a scripture, after first reciting the chapter and verse. Then the young person next to him gave a scripture with the reference. After about four scriptures had been given, I realized that we were going around the circle with each person quoting a different passage of scripture. One youngster started to quote one that had already been used, and he was quickly corrected. I immediately began to think of a scripture that I could quote when my turn came.

I had been in the mission field just a little over a year and had mastered two wonderful passages of scripture. I mentally polished up my first scripture and had no sooner silently rehearsed it than one of the young people gave that exact scripture. This, of course, slowed me down for a minute, but I thought I was okay because I still had one in reserve. I worked a little on it, only to hear someone directly across from me quote it. I then became panicky as I realized I could not think of another scripture I could give. My turn was coming closer and closer, and I felt tension building up within me. My mind went totally blank.

In my moment of greatest concern, President Cowley nudged me with his elbow and, out of the side of his mouth, said, “Quick—tell me a scripture. I can’t think of a single one to say.” I then realized that the two of us were in the same desperate situation. At that moment it was my turn. I bravely said the first article of faith. President Cowley followed by quoting the second article of faith, and then Brother Meha prayed. I think that night he prayed for the mission president and the missionaries a little more than usual. When the prayer was finished, a little boy about eight years of age came over to us and said, “I guess you two guys don’t know that the Articles of Faith are not allowed in our scripture study.”

Now, brothers and sisters, that was an excellent example to me of family prayer and how children can be taught the scriptures. If we would just gather together and have prayer, it would probably be the finest teaching experience that a mother and father could give to their children.

And I remember hearing in New Zealand the testimony of a man from the far side of Australia who, having been previously sealed by civil authority and then joined the Church with his wife and children, had traveled all the way across that wide continent, then across the Tasman Sea to Auckland, and down to the temple in the beautiful valley of the Waikata. As I remember his words, he said, “We could not afford to come. Our worldly possessions consisted of an old car, our furniture, and our dishes. I said to my family, ‘We cannot afford to go.’ Then I looked into the faces of my beautiful wife and our beautiful children, and I said, ‘We cannot afford not to go. If the Lord will give me strength, I can work and earn enough for another car and furniture and dishes, but if I should lose these my loved ones, I would be poor indeed in both life and in eternity.’”

This brings me to my last story. Our boy Seth, who was a little over three-and-a-half years old at the time, woke me up at 3:30 one morning. He just seemed to want to talk. I stretched out on the foot of the large bed that he and his brother slept on and we talked. We talked for over an hour. At some point in the conversation I decided I needed to write down some of what he was saying, and went to our library for a pencil and paper. Here are just some of the questions and comments Seth wanted to communicate about that morning:

"Dad, why are we in the world?
Dad, I don't want you to die.
When I'm 55 I'll be a grandpa.
I have a green schoolbook; I'm lucky.
I love you, Dad.
Dad, do all diapers have problems?
When will Jacob die (Jacob is his younger brother)?
What are you thinking of?
All old people die.
What are you writing?"

Somehow, along with green schoolbooks and diapers, Seth was thinking about some of life's central questions and most important truths at less than four years of age.

As I'm sure I discussed with him in simple terms that night, we are only here because-to paraphrase King Benjamin's words-God created us. . . and is preserving us from day to day, by lending us breath, that we may live and move and do according to our own will, and even supporting us from one moment to another (Mosiah 2:21). We are dependent upon Him for all that we have, and we are utterly dependent on Him for any long-term hope that we cherish.

Seth was concerned about death, but I think we adults don't worry much about it because of the trust we have that the Lord has conquered it. We have a conviction that we will all be quickened; that we will all be immortal.

I pray that as we trust the Lord in the truly great matters, like death, we will learn to trust Him in the smaller but challenging concerns of our daily lives. My testimony is that He is trustworthy, and my conviction is that trusting in Him brings assurance and peace.

Little finger puppets crafted by the young people of the Stillwater Oklahoma Stake take the sting out of a blood test for children at the local medical center. Over 50 young men and young women got together to make over 200 bunnies, snowmen, and chickens that just fit the fingers of small patients at the hospital.

Having a finger pricked for a blood test is a necessary but often traumatic experience for children. Gail Vest, the coordinator of the project, thought the finger puppets would help turn the tears into smiles. She went to the stake’s young people to see if they would like to make it a service project. The project was performed with enthusiasm, and the hospital is delighted with the results.

When the youth in the Bellingham Washington Stake expressed concerns about the inappropriate music and dancing they might encounter at their high school prom, bishops and youth leaders responded. A youth committee, parent committee, and youth leaders all added their ideas to help organize the first-ever formal spring dance at the stake center.
The formal was held the same night as the high school prom, and youth from three neighboring stakes were also invited. With beautiful decorations, prom pictures, great refreshments, and music with clean lyrics, the dance was a smashing success. The youth say they appreciated the opportunity to attend a dance that was in line with their standards.
“There is no comparison between this dance and school dances I’ve been to,” said Sarai Dodge. “Our dance was so much better. I hope this becomes a tradition!”

Daniel Tyler, an associate of the Prophet, recalled an important occasion: “At the time William Smith and others rebelled against the Prophet [at Kirtland], … I attended a meeting … where ‘Joseph’ presided. Entering the schoolhouse a little before [the] meeting opened, and gazing upon the man of God, I perceived sadness in his countenance and tears trickling down his cheeks. … A few moments later a hymn was sung and he opened the meeting by prayer. Instead of facing the audience, however, he turned his back and bowed upon his knees, facing the wall. This, I suppose, was done to hide his sorrow and tears.

“I had heard men and women pray—especially the former—from the most ignorant, both as to letters and intellect, to the most learned and eloquent, but never until then had I heard a man address his Maker as though He was present listening as a kind father would listen to the sorrows of a dutiful child. Joseph was at that time unlearned, but that prayer, which was to a considerable extent in behalf of those who accused him of having gone astray and fallen into sin, [was] that the Lord would forgive them and open their eyes that they might see aright—that prayer, I say, to my humble mind, partook of the learning and eloquence of heaven. There was no ostentation, no raising of the voice as by enthusiasm, but a plain conversational tone, as a man would address a present friend. It appeared to me as though, in case the vail were taken away, I could see the Lord standing facing His humblest of all servants I had ever seen. … It was the crowning … of all the prayers I ever heard.”

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.

Late one afternoon we were approaching the mouth of a river at the end of Starvation Lake. As we pulled ashore, the canoe bumped a boulder. We noticed a huge mound of fur nearby. I thought it was a dead animal until it moved and Bob said, “It’s a grizzly. And it isn’t dead, it’s asleep.” We were less than 100 feet from it at that point. Suddenly, it stood up. I thought it would run away, as most bears do. But it was irritated. The hair on its neck raised up, it started swaying its head back and forth, its jaws started moving—you could hear the teeth clacking—and its ears were laid back. I grabbed the camera and Bob grabbed the gun, but we soon decided it wasn’t smart to stay close, and we backed into deeper water. Somehow we had to get by that grizzly.
We pulled into a small draw about 200 feet away and checked on the bear. It had lain back down. So we took the food packs up and came back for the canoe. When we checked on the bear again, it was gone. It couldn’t go the opposite direction from us because of cliffs. It couldn’t go to the right, because of the lake. So we knew it was either going parallel uphill or coming straight for us. It knew where we were, but we didn’t know where it was. Bears will sometimes move up your trail and intercept you, and we were both scared. We knew it might come boiling over the hill any minute. Bob said, “Dad, can we pray, please?” After a prayer and with great caution, we started up the draw, me with the canoe over my head and Bob with the gun.
We broke the ridge about 100 feet from our packs, and it was waiting there for us. If it tasted the food in the packs, we would have to kill it to keep it from destroying the entire supply, and we didn’t want to do that. As a last desperate effort, and with prayer in my heart, I raised the canoe and shouted at the top of my lungs.
The bear swung its huge head around and saw a pair of legs, a body, and a 17-foot aluminum head growling at it. It was startled so badly it took off at a dead run. It took us about four hours to shake the hollow feeling we had after that close encounter, but we both knew the prayer had helped us through.

Not far from the vast expanse of the Ohio River lies a small town on the outskirts of Louisville, Kentucky, called Anchorage. Once a farming community where a riverboat captain established his last portage, it has become home to families of many diverse faiths.
It was there in church, at home, and while exploring the marvelous world beneath the woods of sycamore, oak, maple, chestnut, and willow trees that I learned one of the fundamentals of Christianity: that Jesus came as the master teacher, instructing us in the ways of goodness and integrity.
My parents were good folks, faithful in their church. They taught me how to be a good person and that there are certain things that are right, such as being kind to others, and certain things that are wrong, such as stealing. On the other hand, they also taught that what one person believes to be true is just as valid as what someone else believes to be true, even if those beliefs differ in fundamental ways. In this philosophy, as I understand it, there are no eternal principles true for everyone, just personal viewpoints that intelligent people have the right and obligation to determine are true for themselves.
Because of those underlying tenets of moral relativism, I had a difficult time believing what the Mormon missionaries taught me about the need for the Atonement, priesthood authority, and prophets. Indeed, my journey to conversion took me six long years of constantly challenging and questioning who I was, what I believed, and whether there could, in fact, be a God who had established eternal principles of truth and error, sin and consequence.
Remarkably, I did receive a spiritual confirmation, but it did not come until I was humble enough to accept it. First came a witness of baptism, then of the Book of Mormon, then of Joseph Smith as a true prophet. Additional witnesses followed, line upon line, regarding today’s prophets and apostles.
Eventually, there came a point in my life when I didn’t just believe the gospel was true—I knew it. The culmination of many little witnesses created a foundation upon which my faith was sure, a bulwark against which challenges to testimony break.

Months and years after the score of a baseball game is long forgotten, the memory of having been there all alone with Dad will never dim. I’ll not soon forget a ten-year-old girl excitedly telling me she had just ridden in the car with her daddy all the way from Salt Lake to Provo and back. “Was the radio on?” I asked. “Oh, no,” she responded, “all Daddy did was listen and talk to me.” She had her daddy all to herself in a setting she’ll not soon forget. Let the stage be set whenever the need is there. Let the stage be set whenever the other person is ready.

It was a bright autumn day in 1850. Dan Bishop moved along the road, proud and pleased to have his friend Jerry Stone going with him on this drive. They were going to the big city of Philadelphia to sell his father’s flock of turkeys to Mr. Burns, the butcher, for city folks’ holiday dinners. Weather permitting, the birds would be delivered a week before Thanksgiving.
Dan was a little worried because he had always gone to market with his father, but now his father was home nursing an injured foot. “Turks are mighty skittish critters,” Dan told his friend.
Jerry watched the flock dodge about, snatching grasshoppers, crickets, worms. “Your pa seems to think we can manage.”
Dan swished a long, light pole to bring back a straying turkey. “We have to be back home before the cold weather sets in. That’s my worry.”
Jerry smiled confidently and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll make it.” Jerry had a long stick of his own to help herd the turkeys. His main job, though, was to lead the old packhorse, Bob. Bob carried camping gear and food, including corn for the birds and oats for himself, for the fifty-mile journey.
That night, over a small fire, the boys camped and ate salt pork and boiled potatoes. The turkeys went to roost in a nearby grove of maple trees. Bob was hobbled and given a bag of oats.
The second day was also fine. The birds liked the deep dust of the road and slowed the drive up by dust-bathing in it. Dan laughed. “That’s a pretty sight—those bronze, red, and green feathers and the big red wattles against the sunset.”
Going downhill went faster, but when a barking dog came at them, the birds scattered and had to be rounded up again. It was twilight when the boys saw old Mr. Birch’s place. “Pa knows him well,” said Dan. “We’ll camp here.” The birds filled up on fallen apples, and Jerry found a few good eating apples for himself and Dan.
The third day was mild, but a cold wind blew the next day. Insects were scarce, and corn had to be scattered for the turkeys. Then the wind came up. Turkey cocks don’t like the wind, so when the boys tried to force the flock onward up a steep hill, the birds began to mill about. One flew away, squawking. Soon they had all taken cover in the thick underbrush.
Again and again the boys tried to poke the turkeys out, but it was no use. Finally Jerry walked back onto the road and began to whistle a certain turkey call. One bird came out, then another and another.
Dan made a count. “All here! That was scary!”
Jerry grinned with relief. “Always heard turks were stubborn.”
Turkeys like to roost in trees, and that day they decided to roost before sundown. Dan and Jerry settled in an old, empty shed.
Pa had told Dan that turkeys often become alarmed at the whiteness of frost, and in the morning he found that it was true. He and Jerry scattered corn to gather the turkeys and get them moving. Cold corn bread and half-frozen buttermilk had to do for the boys’ own breakfast.
The frozen ground was hard on the birds’ feet, and more dogs barked at them as the farms became more numerous. The flock scattered easily. That day a cock and a hen flew over a board fence and disappeared.
“Can’t risk going after them,” Dan muttered. “Pa said we might lose a few.”
At sundown the turkeys weren’t ready to roost. A full moon with a white ring around it bathed the world in light. “That ring means snow for sure,” said Dan. “We’ll let them go on as long as we can. That way we’ll make up for lost time and get to Philly on schedule.”
When they halted at last, Jerry made a fire and began to strew warm mash. The birds stopped to eat, and the warm food made them drowsy enough to roost.
At dawn, the world was white with snow. Dan tied a thin strip of red flannel to his herding stick. After the birds had been fed, he stepped out and held up the lure. The lead cock gobbled and jumped to get the rag. Dan began to walk rapidly, and the herd followed. Jerry smiled and began to eat his cold corn bread. He would relieve Dan soon. Before long they reached Dan’s cousin’s house. Darkness came early, and it began to snow steadily.
When the turkeys had been fed and settled into a shed, the young herders went inside to greet Dan’s relatives. As they ate dinner, Dan said, “Pa said that a couple of these birds are for you. Take your pick.” The tired boys fell asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows.
Their last day dawned clear and sunny. Dan had had his moments of doubt, but now he was feeling quite good about their adventure. “We’re old hands at turkey driving now, eh, Jerry?” said Dan. “It’s time to get the job finished.”

May I relate to you my first journey along a personal Jericho Road. In about my tenth year, as Christmas approached, I yearned for an electric train. My desire was not to receive the economical and everywhere-to-be-found windup model train, but rather one that operated through the miracle of electricity.
The times were those of economic depression, yet Mother and Dad, through some sacrifice, presented to me on Christmas morning a beautiful electric train. For hours I operated the transformer, watching the engine first pull its cars forward, then push them backward around the track.
Mother entered the living room and said to me that she had purchased a windup train for Widow Hansen’s boy, Mark, who lived down the lane. I asked if I could see the train. The engine was short and blocky—not long and sleek like the expensive model I had received.
However, I did take notice of an oil tanker car which was part of his inexpensive set. My train had no such car, and pangs of envy began to be felt. I put up such a fuss that Mother succumbed to my pleadings and handed me the oil tanker car. She said, “If you need it more than Mark, you take it.” I put it with my train set and felt pleased with the result.
Mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen. The young boy was a year or two older than I. He had never anticipated such a gift and was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, it not being electric like mine, and was overjoyed as the engine and two cars, plus a caboose, went around the track.
Mother wisely asked, “What do you think of Mark’s train, Tommy?”
I felt a keen sense of guilt and became very much aware of my selfishness. I said to Mother, “Wait just a moment—I’ll be right back.”
As swiftly as my legs could carry me, I ran to our home, picked up the oil tanker car plus an additional car of my own, ran back down the lane to the Hansen home, and said joyfully to Mark, “We forgot to bring two cars that belong to your train.”
Mark coupled the two extra cars to his set. I watched the engine make its labored way around the track and felt a supreme joy difficult to describe and impossible to forget.
Mother and I left the Hansen home and slowly walked up the street. She took me by the hand, and together we returned homeward by way of our private Jericho Road.

Chris stood next to the door to the Relief Society room. After what seemed a very long time, the door finally opened. Chris stood back and watched as the sisters left, chatting in twos and threes. He had learned over the years that it was easier to just wait for his mom in the hall, but today he really wanted to get into the Relief Society room.
He waited for just the right moment, then, ducking under Sister Brown’s purse, slipped in. He slid into an empty row of chairs and looked around. Just as I thought, he said to himself, there’s no fireplace in here.
“There you are, Son.” Chris turned when he heard his mom’s voice. “I was looking for you in the hall.” Noticing the confused look on his face, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
Chris handed his mom a sheet of paper he had been holding. “I came in here to see the fireplace.”
Chris’s mom read the first line on the paper out loud. “‘You and your parents are invited to attend a special baptism fireside.’”
“It says it’s going to be here in the Relief Society room, but where are they going to build a fire?”
Mom smiled. “A fireside is a kind of meeting,” she explained. “I’m not sure why it’s called that—maybe people really did meet around a fire at one time. But that rarely happens anymore.”
“Oh.” Chris was unable to hide his disappointment. “I thought maybe we would be roasting marshmallows or something fun like that.”
“It does say that refreshments will be served,” Mom tried to cheer him up. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see how much longer your dad’s going to be.”
They walked to the clerk’s office, where Chris’s dad was busy helping Brother Watkins, a member of the bishopric, count the day’s tithing donations. “Did you get my tithing?” Chris asked excitedly. “I gave it to the bishop before sacrament meeting.”
Dad nodded. “We got it and just entered it into the computer. You’re well on your way to another year of being a full tithe payer.”
Chris smiled, thinking back to last year’s tithing settlement. He remembered the bishop saying, “Heavenly Father is very pleased with you for paying all of your tithing.”
Chris’s mom poked her head in. “How much longer are you going to be?”
“Not much longer. We’ll be finished in a few minutes. Do you want to wait for me, or do you think I need the exercise of walking home?”
“I don’t know. What do you think, Chris?”
Chris laughed. “I guess we can wait a few more minutes.”
As they waited on the couch outside the office, Sister Johnson came around the corner. “Chris—just the boy I need to talk to!”
“Me?”
“Yes. I was wondering if you would talk for a few minutes at the baptism fireside. I’m asking some of the children in your class to take a minute or two to tell what they are doing to prepare themselves for baptism. Would you be willing to do that?”
“I guess so,” Chris said nervously.
“Your mom and dad can help you,” Sister Johnson assured him. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.” She turned to walk away, then turned back. “Oh, and one more thing. I want your whole class to recite the fourth article of faith together. Do you know that one?”
Chris nodded enthusiastically. “I know them all,” he said.
“I thought so.” Sister Johnson smiled. “Thank you for your help.”
“Your first fireside, and you get to be one of the speakers!” Mom said. “Good for you!”
Chris slumped on the sofa next to his mother. “But she wants me to talk about what I’m doing to get ready to be baptized. And I haven’t done anything. I should have told her to ask someone else.”
“I think you’ve done more than you know,” Mom said.
“Like what?”
Before she could answer, the door to the clerk’s office opened and out walked Dad and Brother Watkins. Brother Watkins held out his hand to shake hands with Chris. “And how are you today?” he asked.
“OK, I guess.”
“We were just talking about what a person should do to prepare for baptism,” Mom said. “Do you have any recommendations?”
Brother Watkins rubbed his chin. “Well, let me see. Someone who is interested in being baptized should be trying to learn about the gospel and trying to keep the commandments. Do you know someone who is interested in being baptized?”
“Yeah—me!” Chris said. “I’ll be eight next May.”
“That’s great!” Brother Watkins told him. “I think you’re doing a good job of preparing for baptism.”
“But what am I doing?”
“Well, I know that you attended your meetings today. And I saw that you paid your tithing. Those are two good things.”
Chris nudged Mom. “Go to meetings and pay tithing—I can say that in my talk.”
Brother Watkins went on. “Are you learning the Articles of Faith?”
Chris nodded. “I already know them.”
“Wonderful! Do you obey your parents?”
Chris smiled sheepishly. “Most of the time.”
“Do you remember to say your prayers?”
Chris nodded again.
“Do you read the scriptures?”
Chris’s smile faded. “No. Not really. I just read the kids’ ones. You know, the ones with lots of pictures.”
“The kids’ ones are a great start,” Brother Watkins assured him.
Chris’s smile returned. “I’m more ready than I thought,” he said happily. “There’s a baptism fireside next week. I’m supposed to tell what I’m doing to get ready to be baptized. I guess I always thought that all you had to do was be eight years old.”
“Thank you for your help, Brother Watkins,” Dad said.
“My pleasure,” said Brother Watkins. “When is the fireside?”
Mom looked at the invitation. “It’s at 6:00 P.M. next Sunday in the Relief Society room.”
“I think I’ll see if I can get myself an invitation,” Brother Watkins told Chris. “I’d love to hear your talk.”
“There’s going to be refreshments, too!”
“Excellent!” Brother Watkins grinned. “I do like refreshments.”
“This fireside’s only going to be missing one thing,” Chris said.
“What’s that?” Dad wondered.
“A fire. A perfect fireside would have a fire.”
“Hold that thought,” Brother Watkins told him, hurrying into the clerk’s office. He returned carrying his scriptures. “I think your fireside will be perfect.” He opened his scriptures. “What happens after you get baptized?”
“I don’t know,” Chris said.
“Sure you do. Tell me the fourth article of faith.”
“‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost,’” Chris recited.
“So, what comes after baptism?”
Suddenly understanding Brother Watkin’s question, Chris answered excitedly, “The laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
“That’s right. Now listen to this,” Brother Watkins said. “This is in Doctrine and Covenants 19:31 [D&C 19:31]: ‘Thou shalt declare repentance and faith on the Savior, and remission of sins by baptism, and by fire, yea, even the Holy Ghost.’ Chris, do you think that the Holy Ghost will be at the fireside?”
“I think so.”
Brother Watkins smiled. “I think so, too. You see, you’re right, Chris—a fireside really isn’t a fireside without the fire.”

One of the experiences that she remembers with great affection is that of her grandson: “In the Scouts I had the opportunity to help my grandson who was teased a lot at school because of his weight. I was always trying to talk to him and get him to open up to me.

“With so many negative comments and the mistreatment that he received from his classmates, he didn’t want to be part of the Scouts anymore. I was always looking out for him, and I advised him that despite everything bad that people can say to you or how bad people can try to make you feel, it is you who has to know who you are and what you are worth. The boy continued in the Scouts and still remembers with great love how his grandmother supported him in one of the most difficult moments of his childhood.”

No one was at the church when, as Young Women president, I arrived to set up chairs in the cultural hall the night before a Young Women activity. I was seven months pregnant, and I had to set up the chairs almost all by myself. But soon my secretary and a counselor arrived and helped me finish. Then we started hanging decorations.
That’s when a lady poked her head in. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but the Relief Society has this room reserved for our yoga class tonight.”
We asked if there was another room they could use, but the other rooms were occupied. So we did the only thing we could: we took down the chairs. I went home that night feeling tired, knowing that in the morning I would need to set up chairs again.
But is it about the chairs? As I took down the chairs after the Young Women activity, I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about those fun and wonderful girls I have come to love dearly. I was grateful for the time I had spent with them.

I have had the gospel in my home from birth, and thus my parents have always taken care to teach me good principles. In spite of that, I changed a lot during my junior high school years. I decided to take the way that seemed more fun and apparently easier too. I let myself be guided by my friends’ counsel to dress inappropriately, to go to undesirable parties, and even to use bad language once in a while.
At the same time, I started to have problems with my parents and I stopped reading the scriptures. Being popular was most important to me, and going to parties and dressing like my friends seemed good. But in reality I felt empty inside and more alone than ever. I had no peace of mind because I always had something to hide from my parents for fear of being scolded. Something always told me that I was doing wrong, but I still chose to follow my friends and be popular. It was not until the last part of ninth grade that I started feeling that everything that was said in church was especially prepared for me. During a sacrament meeting, the talks that were given were so much what I needed that I turned to my mother and asked her, “Mom, what have you told them about me?” She said that she hadn’t said anything to the speakers about me. It was then that I decided to change, and it was then that my friends turned their backs on me. I felt really bad. But I accepted that my parents had always been right. I came to realize that they were my only true friends.
It was not easy to make the change. I needed to be humble to recognize that I had been wrong. I really wanted to be different, so I began to work with Personal Progress. I started to feel better about myself little by little, experience by experience. Sometimes it was very hard to complete the value experiences, such as reading the scriptures. But even when I would just make the effort, I would feel better.
The first time I finished reading the Book of Mormon, I could feel that everything my parents had taught me about the Church was true, and I could draw nearer to Christ. When I began working on the Laurel projects, I started feeling satisfied with myself, and I began to feel the peace that I had been looking for through service to others in my Good Works projects.
I now have my medallion, and I think it was worth the effort. To me, it is more than a necklace. It really means my feeling of love to my Heavenly Father. It represents my personal worthiness, and it motivates me to go on doing what Christ wants me to do.
I am so grateful for the opportunity we have been given to choose between right and wrong, and I am also grateful for the opportunity to learn from our mistakes. The joy I now feel when I feel the love of Christ through my service to others and the knowledge of my worth has no comparison with my feelings of being popular in school. By now probably nobody in my junior high school remembers me, but I feel happy to know that Christ knows me and knows of my love for Him.
I know we can overcome the challenges that come our way because we are daughters of a Heavenly Father who loves us, and He will not let us be tempted more than we can resist. I know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet, just like President Hinckley is a prophet. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I have seen that promise fulfilled in my own life and in the lives of others. A friend of mine served as a mission president. He told me that at the end of every day while he was serving, he could barely make it upstairs to bed at night wondering if he would have the strength to face another day. Then in the morning, he would find his strength and his courage restored. You have seen it in the lives of aged prophets who seemed to be renewed each time they stood to testify of the Lord Jesus Christ and the restored gospel. That is a promise for those who go forward in faith in their priesthood service.

“Brother Ng,” the man’s voice began. Being addressed as “brother” by a gwailouh (foreigner) caught Ng Kat Hing’s attention. A group of clean-cut Americans wearing dark suits had wandered into the furniture store where he was employed, and their unusual appearance fascinated the 25-year-old Hong Kong native. But he was even more intrigued by being called “brother.”
When Ng Kat Hing questioned them about the title, one of the Americans, who wore a name tag identifying him as President Heaton, asked, “Do you believe there is one Father in Heaven?”
When he nodded, the man continued, “Then we are brothers, and I will call you that.”
Forty-three years later, Brother Ng still recalls his response. “I was touched, and in that moment, a little bit of the restored gospel was manifest to me. I wondered about it all that day and through the night. Four days later when the man called back to confirm the furniture order, I knew I wanted to know more.”
Although Grant Heaton, president of the newly opened Southern Far East Mission, was merely looking for advice about teakwood furniture that August day in 1955, he found much more than that in Ng Kat Hing. He found a language teacher, a convert, a missionary, a Church leader—a true pioneer.
“Brother Ng and his family are real pioneers of the Church in the Hong Kong area,” remarks Elder Jacob de Jager an emeritus member of the Seventy, who, while President of the Asia Area, worked closely with Brother Ng. In fact, Brother Ng was Elder de Jager’s Cantonese teacher. “He has great experience and wisdom and reaches out to people in a natural way. This was especially evident when Brother and Sister Ng were serving as temple missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple, where they were of great help to the Cantonese-speaking members.”
Reaching out to people has always been one of Brother Ng’s talents. In fact, it was his willingness to serve others that put him in even closer contact with the missionaries. After ordering furniture for the mission home, Brother Ng agreed to help President Heaton find someone to teach Cantonese to the missionaries. He talked to several friends, but none of them could help. So he quit his job at the furniture store and taught the missionaries himself. Married and the father of four young children, Brother Ng took a cut in salary with the job change. But he believes it was well worth it.
“I learned the truth,” Brother Ng states simply. “That was a good deal, right? Nothing is more important than that.”
The men took turns learning and teaching. Brother Ng presented basic language lessons, and the missionaries taught gospel discussions. At that time, investigators were taught a total of 18 discussions, so Brother Ng went through several sets of missionaries before hearing all the lessons.
“It took quite a while,” he acknowledges, “but by the time I was baptized, all my questions were answered. I had a strong foundation and a strong testimony.”
Brother Ng was baptized on 31 May 1956. He was one of the first converts after missionary work resumed in Hong Kong following the Korean War.
But Brother Ng’s search for truth had started years earlier. His grandmother, a Buddhist, had begun attending Christian churches shortly before her death, and Brother Ng often accompanied her. “I was looking for a god who was different than the one I’d been taught about while growing up,” he remembers. “But the pastors and preachers at those meetings were difficult to approach, and they were more concerned with donations than with answering my questions.”
Brother Ng’s questions went unanswered until he met the missionaries. “From the beginning, I learned about our Father in Heaven and his son, Jesus Christ. The missionaries taught of our relationship to these beings. And they continually talked of being children of God,” he remembers.
The gospel changed Brother Ng’s life. “My wife tells me I was entirely different after joining the Church,” he says, laughing. “My temper became smooth. My finances were better because I paid tithing. I didn’t worry about food or shelter because I kept the commandments. A happy life followed.”
After seeing the difference the gospel made in her husband’s life, Sister Ng Pang Lai Har also investigated the gospel. Missionaries often visited their home, teaching her husband one of the new member lessons, then teaching her one of the 18 discussions.
Ten months after her husband’s baptism, Sister Ng was baptized. Brother Ng had the privilege of baptizing their seven children as they reached age eight.
Brother Ng’s family is important to him. His dark eyes sparkle as he speaks of the joys of being a husband, father, and grandfather. Highlights of Brother Ng’s life include the temple marriages of all seven children as well as the sealings of each of the children to him and his wife.
“We were not sealed to all our children at once,” he explains. “Traveling to the temple, either in Tokyo or in the United States, was very expensive.” After saving for years, Brother and Sister Ng were sealed in the Provo Temple in 1974. Subsequent temple trips have strengthened the couple’s dedication and commitment to temple work. From 1986 to 1987, they served as missionaries in the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
The high point of their temple service is their most recent calling—president and matron of the Hong Kong Temple, dedicated in May 1996.
“My wife and I were thrilled with the announcement of the temple. We were planning on becoming temple workers, maybe even working three or four times a week,” President Ng says. “We’ll work more than that now!
“I was frightened with the calling at first and very humbled. I had feelings of unworthiness. But after praying, I felt confident that Heavenly Father would give us the spiritual strength and guidance we need to fulfill this calling. We are so grateful for this opportunity.”
President Ng’s service in the Church actually began before his baptism. In addition to teaching the missionaries, he helped translate Church materials, and he was serving as an assistant in the branch Sunday School superintendency when he was baptized. Since his baptism, he has served at various times as branch president, district president, stake president, stake patriarch, counselor to the mission president, and regional representative.
To each calling, President Ng has brought a lively wit and loving warmth. Individuals matter to this leader, who hopes to see the Church grow in Hong Kong.
“There is much pressure and stress in life,” observes President Ng. Concerns about the future, coupled with materialism, which often exists in a growing economy, are challenges that members deal with daily. “Everyone is working so hard for money. We often spend so much time worrying about temporal things. The gospel brings a balance,” President Ng explains.
President and Sister Ng worked together to establish balance in their home. They worked out a plan and followed it closely. They emphasized wise use of financial resources, family unity, and Church activity. “We made time for our children, for each other, and for Church callings,” he continues. “People say they have no time, but that is just an excuse. They have the time for the things that are important in their lives.”
Another thing President Ng has always made time for is missionary work and watching the gospel affect others’ lives the way it has his own. He knows the impact of our knowledge of a loving Father and a worldwide family.
“We are all brothers and sisters,” testifies President Ng. “We need to share that knowledge with others so they can join our family and we can welcome them home.”

And then there is Maddy. When her family stopped attending church, Maddy was confused and not certain what to do. She realized something significant was missing. So at age 13, Maddy began attending church alone. Even though being alone was sometimes hard and uncomfortable, she knew she could find the Savior at church and she wanted to be where He was. She said, “In church my soul felt like it was at home.”
Maddy held onto the fact that her family had been sealed together for eternity. She started bringing her younger brothers with her to church and studying scriptures with them at home. Eventually her mom began joining them. Maddy told her mom of her desire to serve a mission and asked if her mom could be ready to attend the temple with her.
Today Maddy is in the MTC. She is serving. She is witnessing of Christ. Her example helped lead both of her parents back to the temple and back to Christ.