Gospel Story Finder

Later I noticed that many of the older youth became less active in the Church, and I had an absolute fear that one day I might lose my testimony. There were so few youth in the Church in Germany in those days that when they became less active, their absence was noticeable. It was frightening for my parents. They had given up everything to raise their children in religious freedom, and now they were thinking, “What can we do so that we will not lose Erich?”
One day when I was about 14 years old, my family was driving home from church. We had noticed, once again, that some of the youth had turned their backs on the Church. I said to my parents, “I want you to drag me to church until I am 21 years old, and then I will take care of myself!” I really told them that, and my mother often repeated it to me.
This concern explains why, when I was about 10 years old and attending primary school, my parents made a decision. In Germany you start a higher-education path at a young age. My parents decided not to allow me to go into higher education because they had seen many young people leave the Church while attending these schools at that time. They said, “You can go anywhere, but not to the Gymnasium [university-track school], because we don’t want to lose you to the world!”
That decision meant that I received a basic education and later a vocational education; for me, that meant a degree in business. This limited many of my professional possibilities. I completed my training when I was 18 years old and was called to serve as a missionary in Munich, Germany. I loved being a missionary.
When I finished my mission, I found myself without a lot of career options. I had finished my education. Two years after my mission, I married my wife, Christiane, and there was no chance for me to gain a university education. There was a moment when I felt sad about my parents’ decision because I felt so limited.
Then a thought came to me: “Whatever my parents did, they did to protect me. They did it out of love, and it will not be a disadvantage for me.” Even though at times it seemed to be a disadvantage in a worldly sense, I could now understand that it would never be a real disadvantage. I decided to make a career in the insurance business, and I later became an executive in the company where I worked.
One challenge for me was that I had always wanted to be a teacher, and you cannot be a teacher in Germany without a university education. However, I eventually did become a teacher—a religion teacher. I became a teacher for the Church Educational System. And in a manner of speaking, that is what I am now—a teacher. So I gained a testimony that it is worthwhile to listen to your parents, to follow their counsel, and to trust that they love you, pray for you, and know what is best for you. The desire to stay active in the Church was so strong on my part and the desire to protect me was so strong on my parents’ part that everything did come together for my good.

I was recently asked to speak about what our family is doing to become a celestial family. My father suggested I speak on how to serve ice cream in a society made up of righteous families. Now maybe you are like me. I didn’t know there was any special way to serve ice cream in such a society until my dad explained it to me.
He first told me to research the subject in the scriptures. But, after failing to find anything about ice cream in the Bible or Doctrine and Covenants, I gave up. I didn’t even look in the Book of Mormon. That was a big mistake, for that is where you find the best discourse on serving ice cream in a truly righteous family. Actually it doesn’t talk much about ice cream. It hits that very lightly. But it does teach you a lot about proper technique in serving ice cream.
Maybe you could understand better if I told you how I used to serve ice cream and then explain the difference.
Since I am a teenager, when dad or mom would ask me to serve everyone some ice cream, the first thing I would do was find me a cereal bowl and stack the ice cream to the teenager level, which is about two inches above the rim. Then I would dish up the ice cream for the rest of my family. However, my brother and sisters are smaller than I, so of course the small ice cream dishes are just about right for them. Rachelle, my 11-year-old sister, thinks she should get a cereal bowl too, which is ridiculous because she isn’t even a teenager yet.
Well, my dad showed me in the Book of Mormon where it explains that my method wouldn’t have made the grade.
In 4 Nephi it tells what it was like after the Savior visited the people in America following his resurrection. After his visit, the people really lived righteous lives. And the way they lived can help us understand how to develop celestial families. It even teaches us how to serve ice cream.
The Book of Mormon, in 4 Nephi, [4 Ne. 1] says that the people had no jealousies, they were not envious, and they had no contentions or disputations among them. They had all things in common, and there were no rich or poor, and there was peace in the land. They went to sacrament and priesthood meetings to hear the word of the Lord, and they continued to fast and pray.
But let’s get back to ice cream! My dad gently explained to me that when I have the standard teenager’s portion, it makes Rachelle and Kristi, my number two sister, jealous and envious. When they get like that, they start giving me all kinds of reasons why they should have as much as I do. Of course, I have to explain to them, loud enough for them to understand, that teenagers need more nourishment than “little girls.” Then they always have a response for that. And I have to reply—in a slightly louder tone, of course.
Well, when I read 4 Nephi, I could see that we were having one of those “disputations” that Nephi was talking about; and the disputation had been caused by a “contention;” and the contention was caused by “envying.”
So you can see that there is a certain way that you have to serve ice cream in a family desiring to be more righteous.
Mom also pointed out something else. If everyone is allowed to have a fair share, according to their needs, then there are really no rich ice cream eaters and no poor ice cream eaters. Having no rich or poor means that everyone has as much as he needs, but he does not have so much more than someone else that they get envious and cause contentions which lead to disputations.
When these disputations are avoided, there really is “peace in the land.” At least there is peace in the family room, and everyone is happier!
When you think about it, this idea has some interesting applications when it comes to who is going to sit where in the car, or who is going to do what in family home evening, or which TV show to watch.
My serving of ice cream has changed since I read 4 Nephi, and I have discovered that to live like they did after Christ’s visit, we have to concentrate on the little things we do day to day and the way we treat each other or think of each other. And you know, it helps me to think of my brother and sisters as much as myself. Mom says there is something about that in the scriptures, too. I suppose I should find that scripture as well.

The Lodi 2nd Ward Primary, Lodi California Stake, celebrated President Thomas S. Monson’s birthday with service. Each child completed an act of service and then filled out a card describing their service. Some children helped their family take food to a neighbor, others shared school supplies with kids that didn’t have any, and lots of kids helped around the house. These cards were sent to President Monson for his birthday. They also had a birthday party and made the rainbow cake President Monson’s mother made for him when he was a boy, featured in the August 2012 issue of the Friend.

I hope you'll forgive a personal example, one that took me by surprise. God gave me and brought together two gifts. Through my mission to Mexico I gained a great love for my people, the people of Mexico. Through the sacrifices of my parents and my wife, and a whole lot of hours logged in the library, I gained a good education in International Business. I had visions of globe trotting, of stepping off planes in exotic locations (that vision always includes me carrying an expensive briefcase). God had different plans, and I never quite understood why I was guided to that area of study and how I might use what I learned there. Until some 14 years after graduation, and a Ricks College sponsored program to bless the lives of returned missionaries in Mexico. I was just a tiny cog. There were much more significant contributions made through the gifts of President Eyring, President Bednar, Don Bird, Leo Castagno, Dale Mortenson, Bro. Max Checketts, my friends Emilio, Rodolfo and Josafat, but I was able to use my small offerings to sort of be the stitching that held together their more important gifts in a program that went on to bless and change some 400 lives, and continues today. It took me by surprise, and has been one of the great blessings of my life just to be a part.

The brothers started attending the meetings of El Dorado Ward, Florencio Varela Argentina Stake. On 29 September 1999, with their parents’ permission, Matías and Elías were baptized.
They continued to learn just how spiritually rich they could become. Two weeks after his baptism, for example, Matías received the Aaronic Priesthood and was ordained a deacon. “I immediately felt that I had received power from heaven,” he says. He also felt the influence of the Holy Ghost, a gift he had received when he was confirmed a member of the Church.
“I had been tempted to start wearing an earring,” he says. “Then I received a booklet that told me how to dress for church and activities. After I read that, I repented. My mother asked me if I was going to put the earring in again. I told her I didn’t feel right about wearing it anymore. That was it. I felt strength in being able to overcome temptation. I felt the Spirit whispering to me and telling me to do what was right.”

James H., age 11, from Salt Lake City, Utah, likes to learn about history, use computers, and search for clues like a detective. That’s why he got really excited when his parents invited the ward’s family history consultant to teach James’s family about the Church’s online family history program. It’s called Family Tree, and James loves using it to search through his family history chart to find the green arrows next to the names of ancestors who weren’t baptized or sealed to their families.
Since that day, James has found more than 80 of his ancestors’ names. It feels good to know he can help his ancestors by sending their names to the temple. “Someone up in heaven is thinking, ‘They finally found me!’” he says.
When I find a new ancestor who needs to have temple ordinances done, I print out the ancestor’s name so the temple work can be done.
I taught my little brother, William, how to type in names so he can help search for our ancestors online.
My mom and dad and older brother and sister have helped me by doing baptisms for the dead and other ordinances in the temple for the ancestors I find.

In my childhood, my family went through some very troubled times. My parents divorced when I was five. My mother remarried, but divorced again. My three younger siblings and I all lived with our mother in one room in one of the worst parts of Glasgow, Scotland. Home life was quite dark, challenging, and poor.
When I was about 10, I went to a little Christian Sunday School group that met at the end of the street. We sang songs, and a teacher taught us Bible stories. One Sunday, our teacher told us the story of Zacchaeus.
Jesus was passing through the city of Jericho, and there was a great crowd of people surrounding him. A man named Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus pass by, but Zacchaeus was not very tall. He ran ahead and climbed a tree so he could see Jesus in the midst of the crowd.
Jesus looked up and called him by name: “Zacchaeus, make haste, and come down; for to day I must abide at thy house.”
Zacchaeus was not a popular man. He was a tax collector. Many people, seeing with whom Jesus was going to spend the day, murmured because they didn’t think Zacchaeus was worthy. Yet Jesus chose to spend time with him.
We don’t read much in the scriptures about what happened while Jesus was in Zacchaeus’s home, but we do know what the result was. Zacchaeus repented and became converted. Jesus said that salvation had come to the house of Zacchaeus. (See Luke 19:1–10.)
I wondered, if Jesus knew the name of Zacchaeus, did He know my name? If this thing called salvation could come to the home of Zacchaeus, could it come to my family? If Zacchaeus could be saved, could I? I know now that the Holy Ghost prompted me to think those thoughts.
Within two years, I discovered that the Lord did know my name and that salvation could come to my family. The Lord sent missionaries from His Church to find us. My mother was not very interested in religion, but the missionaries knocked on our door on a very rainy, wet day. They had been out working all day long, and they were soaked to the skin. My mother invited them in to get warm. When I came home from school, the missionaries were sitting by our electric heater, steam rising from their clothes. That began our teaching experience. A few weeks later, we were baptized and confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Being members of the Church has been a great blessing in our lives. We found peace, direction, and hope. I grew up to serve a mission, marry in the temple, and become the father of four children. I became the first person in all the generations of my family to attend university, and I enjoyed a successful career.

Doug had always loved sports. Maybe it was because they almost all required running, and running was his favorite activity. As a child he ran everywhere. If you saw someone walking you knew you weren’t looking at Douglas Padilla. “I didn’t like to just wait around. Why walk if you can get there faster by running?” And of course there were always races for an aspiring young runner—impromptu school ground and back lot challenges as well as the prestigious 50 yarders sponsored by the grade school. There was only one problem. “I was always getting beat. In fact, the girls all beat me.”
This was a great boon for equality, but it wasn’t a real ego booster, especially for a boy who already carried the burden of being the smallest boy in his class. But rather than throwing away his sneakers and giving up, Doug just kept running.
He is still running today. Seven times an All-American during his track career at BYU, he now runs for the Athletics West Track Club. He has been ranked number one in the world in the indoor 3,000 and 5,000 meters, and fifth in the world in the 5,000 meters outdoor. He has enjoyed wins in many important national and international competitions, including the 1983 World Championships in Helsinki, Finland. He was the top American qualifier for the 5,000 meters in the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, he had health problems at the games and finished a disappointing seventh. Like the seasoned competitor he is though, he put it behind him as “just another race” and is back working his way to the top. He enjoyed a spectacular indoor season this past winter, winning five of the seven races he entered. He was the fastest American in the 3,000 meters, the 5,000 meters, the two mile, and the three mile.
Doug’s rise from neighborhood “also ran” to world-class runner didn’t happen overnight, of course. It took some fifth quarter effort along the way. Even when he was still the slowest kid around, Doug always ran in every race he could. Finally, in junior high school he got on the track team.
At last, all the running and fifth-quarter determination started paying off. Doug’s speed and endurance began to soar. His time in the two mile improved from 11:50 his freshman year to 9:17 his senior year, when he went undefeated in cross-country and won the league meet. He went all the way to state in the two mile, finishing 13th with a personal record of 9:15.4.
After high school, Doug was not deluged with scholarship offers. By college standards, he was still a very average runner. He did finally receive an offer from a junior college near his home, however. At the end of the first year there he surprised everyone, including himself, by running a 4:10.7 and winning the mile at the Northern California Championships. At this point, Doug decided to go to BYU. He didn’t have a scholarship or even an invitation, but he went anyway. When you’ve spent a whole year in the fifth quarter, you’re game for about anything. That fall he went out for cross-country and finished as the eighth man on the team.
Soon after the end of the cross-country season, Doug was called to serve a mission in El Salvador. His track career was a little shaky at best, and he had no particular reason to think that a two-year absence would improve it much, but his desire to follow the counsel of the General Authorities was strong. As he served the people of El Salvador through his calling, he began to change in many ways. He began to have a different perspective on sports and life in general.
“When you look at a high school athlete, he grows up with sports. He eats it and drinks it. That’s his life—everything. As you grow up a little more, you find out there’s a little more to life, and then you go on a mission and find out you don’t have to run and compete to be successful and to feel important as a person. Then your emphasis changes, and running isn’t necessary anymore. Many times sports are a means by which individuals can gain self-confidence and self-esteem. Many people go through an identity crisis. How important are they as an individual? As you go on a mission you realize that the Lord loves you and cares about you and is concerned with your being a good person regardless of how you are athletically. You come to realize that your relationship with people, school, your church callings, a number of things—all are important, not just athletics. You become a little more aware of life.
“I was always very small in high school and had little self-confidence, but now my confidence is in the Lord.”
The two years in El Salvador proved to be a blessing athletically. Even though Doug had little opportunity to run in the mission field, his body had a chance to mature. He returned stronger and faster than when he left. He was the 23rd American finisher in the NCAA cross-country championships that year, earning all-American honors. He was also part of a distance medley team that took second in the nation.
His junior year brought only moderate success. In the outdoor season he finished sixth in the nationals in the 5,000-meter run.
In his senior year he finished 15th in the cross-country nationals. Then came the golden indoor season that was to vault him into the aristocracy of the running world. He somehow managed to talk his way into the Sunkist Invitational meet, even though his times really didn’t qualify him for that level of competition. There he went head to head in the two mile with the great Suleiman Nyambui, the University of Texas at El Paso star. Doug had never beaten Nyambui, the silver medalist in the 500 meters at the Moscow Olympics, although as members of the same college athletic conference, the two had competed many times. This time Doug stayed right behind Nyambui throughout the race.
“When Suleiman moved out to take the lead, I stepped right out behind him. I stayed right on his tail. I decided that what I needed to do was surprise him when I went around him. It’s twenty-two laps on the indoor track for two miles. So I said, ‘with two laps to go, I’ll make my move.’ So that’s what I did. I made it right at the top of the turn. I cut a little close, and I just brushed him with my arm, and I think that kind of surprised him. I brushed by him on the outside just as he looked to the inside to see where everybody was. I think he was kind of startled, and by the time he recovered I had six or seven yards on him. And then I just ran like crazy. He never caught me. Indoors the race is often won by the man who makes the first move and doesn’t die. The crowd was amazed that Suleiman could be beaten, especially by me.”
This was a victory that any athlete could treasure for life, even if it was followed by no others, but in this case both Doug and most knowledgeable track people sensed that it marked a great turning point in his career, the beginning of something big, a rite of passage from just another good college runner to something different. Doug was edging into that elite circle of athletes who can be described as “world-class.”
In the Western Athletic Conference indoor track meet, Doug once again shocked everyone by beating Suleiman. Some had assumed that the first victory was a fluke—a very impressive fluke notwithstanding.
This set the stage for the indoor nationals. “I knew that Suleiman would be expecting me this time, and that I would have to move earlier than I had before. So I made a move with five laps to go, almost a half mile. That was quite a race. It was rough. He ran in lane two for almost the last five full laps. He tried to pass me repeatedly. I won by four-hundredths of a second.” Less than an hour later, Doug had to run the 5,000 meters. Not knowing how much he had left, he dropped to the back of the pack. With two and a half laps to go, he made his move, swinging wide around a group in front of him. He moved into third place with a lap to go, took second on the backstretch, and kicked hard in a grim charge to overtake Suleiman. He couldn’t quite catch him, finishing second.
In the outdoor nationals that spring, he finished fourth in both the 1,500 and 5,000 meters. His college career was ended, but he was still getting faster and stronger all the time. It was time again for the fifth quarter.
Even though there are many rewards in competitive running, it is not exactly what the average person would describe as fun. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Somewhere in the course of the race all the body’s needs and desires become reduced to one—to stop. “It’s a matter of losing your concentration. You slow down, and all of a sudden you look up and realize they have ten yards on you. You lose contact with what’s going on and they break you.” The successful runner must resist this, forcing his body to do his mind’s will.
“You have to decide beforehand what you’re going to do in a race, and then you go out and you do it. With my style of running I need to decide that I’m going to stay with certain runners no matter what until I start my kick at the end. Then it’s a matter of staying with that decision regardless of how I feel. Once you’ve gone through about half the race at a good pace, you lose a little bit of the awareness of how you feel. You just learn to concentrate more on staying with an individual. You put all your energies into it, and you mask out everything else. I used to wonder how bad I wanted to win, if I wanted success enough to be willing to hurt for it. It’s a matter of determining if it’s really worth it to you or not.”
If a runner wants to know the limits of his own potential, there is a price to pay. “If you go by how you feel, you’re always going to decide you don’t have enough, and so you’ll fall back. And if you push it, there’s always more than you think. And even if there isn’t, you’ll at least know where you stand.”
Does the gospel help Doug in his running? “It has given me confidence in myself. My mission had a lot to do with that. Realizing that I could go out and do something, that I could seek the Lord’s help in accomplishing something, helped me believe in my individual worth as a person, that I was important.”
How important is the gospel in his life? “There isn’t anything more important in my life than the gospel. It is much more important than running. There isn’t any comparison. If running is the most important thing in your life and you get injured or become too old to compete, then you are left with nothing. When I was a teenager I didn’t have this kind of a testimony or perspective. I was still learning. The Church was important, but I didn’t realize how important. My mission taught me that I can do whatever the Lord wants me to do—anything.”
Where does running fit into Doug’s vision of the gospel? “The Lord wants us to develop the talent that we have, and it’s a responsibility each person has, so in that sense, it’s something that I need to do. But I’ve always felt that it’s something the Lord wants me to do also. If I didn’t have the feeling that he wanted me to run, I probably wouldn’t be running now, just because in the years after I got back from my mission, I didn’t handle the pressure very well. It was a lot to go through, especially when you’re not doing that well, and there are other things more important to me in my life. Now it would be hard to imagine not running. But there’s an awful lot of pressure before a race. I’m extremely nervous. I have to eat five or six hours before I run or I will throw up. It’s just very unpleasant. Just imagine yourself standing up to talk in general conference, and you’ll have some idea. If I didn’t feel the Lord had some purpose for me in this I wouldn’t be doing it.”
Doug gained a great strength in his life on July 14, 1983, when he married Lynette Nielson of Golden, Colorado, in the Salt Lake Temple. “Marriage has been good to me,” he says. “I’ve got a great wife. She gives me a clearer perspective on running and on life.”
When will Doug stop running? “When the Lord wants me to stop.”
How will he know when that happens? “I just won’t have any desire to run anymore.”
That time isn’t in sight right now. The short, skinny kid who lost to the girls in grade school, who had to wait for the fifth quarter to play basketball, who ran just because he loved running, has grown up into one of the finest distance runners on the planet Earth. He knows now that if you work and wait long enough, giving it everything you have, your fifth quarter will come, because the fifth quarter is only for those with the courage to endure to the end.

When Peter brought the sheep off the hillside that evening, he saw the king’s messenger riding away from Pleasant Valley. To have a messenger come to their small town was unusual. Peter chased the sheep into the cote and raced indoors to see what had happened. His two older brothers were dressed in their best clothing, and their mother was hurrying back and forth between the fireplace and the table.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked. “I saw the king’s messenger ride away from—”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Dominic broke in rudely. “Wise old Trebor is retiring, and our king needs a new advisor.”
Richard shoved his empty plate aside. “The messenger announced that all young men between the ages of fourteen and thirty would be interviewed by Trebor. Dominic and I are going to the castle in hopes that one of us will be chosen.”
“You must go, too, Peter,” his mother urged, placing her hands on his shoulders and frowning when her two older sons grumbled about being nursemaids.
“But,” Peter said. “I’ll not be fourteen until tomorrow. And I’m surely not wise.”
“But you’ll be fourteen by the time you arrive at the castle,” his mother reminded him.
Two mornings later it looked to Peter as though every young man from the small country of Meritania stood shoulder to shoulder in the castle’s courtyard. A stillness fell over the group when old Trebor hobbled onto a balcony.
“Young sires, tomorrow I will choose someone who shall be trained to take my place,” he said, his voice cracking with age. He clasped the balcony railing for support. “Today I will speak with each of you personally. And tomorrow there will be a final test to help me decide my successor.”
Early the next morning Trebor appeared on the balcony. “After interviewing all you young men, I will dismiss all but three.”
Peter’s heart pounded when he heard his name announced as one of the contenders.
“The old man must be slipping!” Dominic fumed. “Imagine choosing an inexperienced stripling like you, Peter, over a smart fellow like me!”
Richard laughed. “Our mother pleaded with you to finish school, Dominic, and to get an education, but you dropped out,” he said, “and it shows.”
“I’ll admit you have more schooling than I have,” Dominic agreed as he scowled at his brother. “But old Trebor didn’t miss much during those interviews, and I’m sure he noticed how soft your hands are from lack of hard work.”
“He probably also noticed that you talk so much you never hear anyone but yourself!” Richard’s voice rose in anger.
Peter hid his calloused hands behind his back and moved away from his brothers while the argument continued. He wondered what Trebor’s final test would be.
At ten o’clock Peter and two other young men approached Trebor in the castle’s great hall. The old man leaned on a cane, and peered at them from watery eyes.
“You have an hour to complete this test,” he quavered. “Go into the city and bring to me whatever you consider most important for a wise man to have. You are not to speak to each other about this, and you must travel alone.” Trebor waved his gnarled hand toward the castle’s drawbridge and shuffled over to sit down on a bench.
Peter and the other contestants hurried off toward the city. And, within five minutes of the hour, all three of them had returned. Trebor motioned for them to lay what they’d brought on a table near where he sat. “What is in that large package?” he asked.
“A bolt of precious material, sire,” replied one of the young men and unwrapped his package. “Clothes make the man,” he declared with a look of satisfaction on his face. “And one is accepted anywhere if he is well dressed.”
Hardly glancing at the elegant fabric, Trebor pointed a finger at a small leather pouch. “What does that contain?” he asked.
The second young man bowed confidently and said, “Sire, it is filled with gold dust. Gold will buy anything—fame, fortune, friends, shelter. A wise man needs all these things.”
Trebor’s expression didn’t change by one wrinkle as he pointed to Peter’s package. “Your package looks as though it came from the meat seller’s stall in the market,” he commented.
Peter’s face reddened when the other two young men snickered. “Yes, sire. It is a tongue, but more than that it is a reminder.”
“Explain, please,” Trebor said and sat forward interestedly, cupping a hand behind his ear.
“A tongue can do much harm or much good,” Peter said. “Harsh, untrue, or thoughtless words can hurt. Soft words, intelligent words, considerate words should fall from a wise man’s tongue.”
“You’re right, Peter!” declared Trebor, and he reached across the table to clasp Peter’s hands. “And since you shall be our king’s new adviser, I pray you will never forget the wisdom of your words.”

We need to make our homes a place of refuge from the storm, which is increasing in intensity all about us. Even if the smallest openings are left unattended, negative influences can penetrate the very walls of our homes. Let me cite an example.

Several years ago I was having dinner with my daughter and her family. The scene is all too common in most homes with small children. My daughter was trying to encourage her young, three-year-old son to eat a balanced meal. He had eaten all the food on his plate that he liked. A small serving of green beans remained, which he was not fond of. In desperation, the mother picked up a fork and tried to encourage him to eat his beans. He tolerated it just about as long as he could. Then he exclaimed, “Look, Mom, don’t foul up a good friendship!”

Those were the exact words he heard on a television commercial a few days earlier. Oh, what impact advertising, television programs, the Internet, and the other media are having on our family units!

Illustrations by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
The Prophet went to visit his aunt and uncle. His uncle and his cousins were sick with the fever and chills.
Joseph, your uncle has the worst of it. I fear for his life.
Here, Uncle, have my shoes.
But, Joseph, what will you wear?
Joseph rode home without his shoes.
He sent for his uncle and had him brought to his home.
He will heal better at my house. Emma will take good care of him.
He also sent many supplies to help the rest of the family recover.
Thank you, Joseph. Thank you.
The Prophet’s genuine love for others saved his uncle’s life and eased his aunt’s burdens.

When you think of the Netherlands, you probably think of wooden shoes, tulips, and windmills. But the Netherlands is also home to youth who are strong in the gospel. Here’s what some of them had to say about their testimonies and beliefs in gospel principles:
“I was home-teaching and had to give the lesson. I talked about Jesus Christ, the Resurrection, and life after death. While I was teaching the lesson, I felt it was true. I almost cried because I really felt it deep inside me.”
—Jos Reijnders, age 16

Mandy: Dad, if somebody called somebody else a really mean name and then the second somebody punched the first somebody, who would need to repent?
Dad: Well, the first somebody would need to repent of the mean name, and the second somebody would need to repent of the punching.
Mandy: But wouldn’t the first somebody be worse because she started it?
Dad: Does it matter who’s worse? Both have done wrong, and both need to apologize and repent.
The next day—Mandy: Linda, I’m really sorry I punched you. How can I make it up to you?
Linda: You can get out of my sight, you toad!
Mandy: Thanks, Linda. I will.
That night—Dad: Somebody seems a lot happier.
Mandy: Somebody is.

Perhaps a story from my own life can best exemplify how impactful a forgiving heart can be on others. For some background, please note that this story takes place before the wide-spread use of scanners and the ubiquitous cell phone.

Following law school, I took a job as a litigation associate in the San Francisco office of a major national law firm. This job was very demanding and it was not uncommon for me to have late night, or all night or all weekend work assignments. Becky and I and our oldest daughter, Cozi (who was one at the time), lived in the East Bay and I would commute with public transportation into the City for work. If I worked too late, I would often miss the last bus and either need to call and ask my wife for a ride home or take a taxi (which I generally only did when authorized for payment by a client).

On one particular late night I had missed the bus, and was not authorized to take a taxi, so I called Becky to come and pick me up. It was about 11:45 PM. She told me she would come and get me, but that she needed to wake up Cozi, get her ready and in the car, and expected to be to my office in about 45 minutes. I continued to work until about 12:15 AM, was shutting down my computer and gathering my take-home work into my bag, when I received a call. It was a partner in the firm’s Washington DC office. He said he was so happy to find me still there. He was preparing for trial later that morning and desperately needed a document that could be found in the San Francisco office file room. He asked if I could retrieve the document and fax it to him immediately.

I told him that I, of course, would. I rushed to the file room and realized I had no idea how I was going to find this document. We had file room staff that did this work during normal hours and I had never searched for a file in the room before. I began rolling the large filing shelves looking for the client and matter number. Ultimately finding it, I began searching through the several thousand documents of the case to find the one that the partner needed. Finally, the document was found.

I immediately rushed to the fax machine to send it to our Washington DC office and realized that I did not know how to operate the fax machine. We had staff during normal hours that sent all the faxes and I had never used the fax in the office before. It required some sort of code in order to unlock its operation so that the cost of sending the fax could be billed to the proper client. I riffled through the drawers around the fax machine to see if there was a code that was written down that I could use to get this fax out. I was able to track down an administrative code, entered it into the machine and was able to get the fax to send.

The relief in having been able to accomplish this task was quickly replaced by a realization that this whole process had taken me well over an hour to complete and that my wife and child had been waiting that whole time for me in the wee hours of the morning on a dark street in downtown San Francisco.

I rushed to my office, grabbed my bag and headed to wait for the interminably slow elevator to reach the 24th floor of the building. I could hear my wife’s certain words in my head, “How could you do this to us? You know that I am uncomfortable being alone in the City? Why did you call us if it was going to take you another couple of hours to be done with work?”

As the elevator arrived and I stepped in, I began doing what most good attorneys do – prepare the defense. “What was I supposed to do, tell the partner in Washington DC that he was just not going to be getting his document. You know that would get me fired. I have to provide for our family. Who’s going to put the food on the table?”

As I hurried out to the car and looked into the windows, I froze. In her car seat in the back of the car I saw my daughter, her face red and wet from tears, my wife reaching back to comfort her, lines of exhaustion and concern on her face. Clearly she had anticipated for some time that I would be down any minute.

I opened the car door and slid into the driver seat, and steeled myself for what she would say. Then I heard Becky’s voice, “Oh dear, you look so tired, would you like me to drive home?” Immediately, I was faced with the reality of what I had done. Those words have done more to change my life than any others uttered by a human being to me. I have cried many times over my insensitivity on that night. I still find in that moment of my life the courage to be a better man.

“Hooray!” Andrew yelled when he saw the batch of cookie dough that his mother was putting into the refrigerator. “That means tomorrow is ‘Cookie Sunday!’”
“Yes,” replied his mother. “Do you remember what you must do to earn these cookies?”
“I remember. I just need to tell you one thing that I learned in sacrament meeting. That’s easy.”
“You’re right, Andrew. It’s too easy for a big boy like you. This time I want you to tell me three things that you learned.”
“Three!” Andrew took a closer look at the cookie dough. “Is it chocolate chip?”
His mother nodded. “You know, Andrew, listening longer will help you be reverent longer too.”
When the bishop stood up at church after the sacrament had been passed the next day, Andrew forgot to listen. He was busy looking at his favorite book about Jesus. He especially liked the picture of Jesus with the children. He liked to imagine that he was one of those children and that Jesus was smiling at him.
Mother tapped Andrew on the arm as the first speaker stood up. It was Samuel Jenkins, a friend of Andrew’s big brother. Andrew liked Samuel because he sometimes let Andrew play with his basketball. He gave Samuel a big smile, and Samuel smiled back! Then he started his talk. Andrew listened hard. Samuel said that he was saving his money to go on a mission. I’m saving my money, too, Andrew thought. He had a special box that had a place for his tithing, his missionary savings, and his spending money. He was saving his spending money to buy a red toy truck just like the one Toby had. Where is Toby today? he wondered. Andrew saw Toby’s father and baby brother sitting in front of them, but Toby wasn’t there. Toby was his best friend, and he had taught Andrew how to tie his shoes. Andrew was leaning down to see if his shoes needed tying, when his mother tapped him on the back. Oh-oh, thought Andrew, I’m not listening any more.
Andrew looked up just in time to see Samuel sit down and another man take his place. The man’s name was Jethro Williams. He and his family had just moved into the ward. Andrew thought that Brother Williams had kind eyes. Brother Williams was introducing his family, so Andrew turned around to locate them in the congregation. He didn’t see any boys his age in the family, but there was a little girl. Andrew also looked around for Toby, but he didn’t see him. He did see his friend Jacob, though, and gave him a little wave. Andrew felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, so he quietly turned around and saw Brother Williams opening his scriptures.
One day I’ll have my own scriptures too, Andrew thought. My scriptures will have a black cover like Dad’s, with pages that make a whispering sound when you turn them. He leaned over and saw that a lot of words in Dad’s scriptures had red-pencil lines under them. That meant that the words were extra special.
Brother Williams was reading something about the Lamanites, so Andrew opened his Book of Mormon Storybook and turned to his favorite story about Samuel the Lamanite. He was still busy looking at the pictures when he heard the organ start to play. Is the meeting over already? Andrew wondered. No, it’s just a rest hymn, he decided as the congregation sang “The Spirit of God.” Andrew sang especially loud on the chorus. In Primary the music leader had said that when the children sang the chorus, they sounded like angels.
After the song, Sister Williams stood up. She had a soft voice that reminded Andrew of his Primary teacher. His Primary teacher often said, “Bless your heart.” Andrew listened hard to hear if Sister Williams would say that, too, but she didn’t. Instead, she said another word a lot. She said, “thankful.” Andrew listened, and he counted on his fingers that she said it five times!
She really is thankful, Andrew thought.
Then Sister Williams began to cry a little. Andrew used to feel funny when grown-ups cried in church, but his mother told him that people sometimes cry when they feel very happy inside because of their blessings. Andrew decided to count his own blessings. He thought of his new bicycle that he was learning to ride and of his pet gerbil, Blacky. Then he thought of Amanda, his baby sister, who was asleep on Dad’s lap. Andrew was reaching over to pat Amanda’s curly head when the organ began to play again. The meeting was almost over! This time it was a hymn that Andrew didn’t know, but he helped hold the book for his mother and hummed softly.
After dinner that afternoon, Andrew’s mother got out the bowl of cookie dough. “Well, Andrew,” she said, “tell me what you learned today.”
Andrew thought hard. “Samuel Jenkins talked about saving for his mission. He told me that when he goes on his mission, he’ll give me his basketball! Isn’t that great?”
Mother nodded. “Yes, that’s great. And I’m glad that you were listening when he talked about being a missionary. What else did you learn?”
“I learned that we have a new girl named Sarah Williams in our Primary class. Her father had her stand up in sacrament meeting. In Primary I found out that she likes chocolate chip cookies, just like me!”
Mother smiled. “OK, Andrew. That counts. Shall we take her some cookies to share with her family today?”
“OK, Mom.” Andrew’s eyes lit up. “And could we take some to Toby too? He wasn’t at church today because he’s sick.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mother. “But first you need to tell me one more thing that you learned today.”
Andrew spoke slowly, “Well, Sister Williams was thankful for five things, and in church I could only think of three things that I was thankful for. But now I’ve thought of two more.”
“What are they?”
“I’m thankful for all my friends and for chocolate chip cookies to share with them!”

My mother makes the best homemade bread in the whole world. One afternoon our neighbor sat in our kitchen and declared that she would pay ten dollars just for a slice of Mom’s yummy bread. Mom just laughed, but I could tell that she was flattered. That night, while we were doing the dishes, she seemed really concerned about something. Since Dad had been in the hospital, I’d noticed that she’d been worried not just about Dad but about “making ends meet,” as she put it.
Finally I asked, “Mom, what are you thinking about?”
She smiled, hesitated, then said, “Jenney, I couldn’t help thinking about what Mrs. Clark said. Do you think my bread is that good?”
“Sure, Mom, all the kids in the neighborhood love your bread and rolls—especially your cinnamon rolls.”
Well, that’s how I got the job of delivering bread and rolls for my mom. She got a permit from the city and began a bakery in our kitchen to earn some money. Every day after school I delivered her bread and rolls all over town. I got paid for doing it, and that was great, but sometimes I got tired of it and wished I hadn’t praised her bread so much. After a few weeks, I started playing or watching TV and leaving a little later each day. That was until after one day last week.
“Jenney, honey, please hurry. This order is for Brother and Sister Dean, and they live kind of far away. Turn off the TV and get your coat and mittens on.”
“OK, Mom,” I said reluctantly and got ready to go.
At the door, Mom stood looking at the sky. “Hurry, Jenney. Please don’t dawdle. It looks like another storm is brewing.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be all right.” I waved good-bye and started down the street. The air was very still and quiet. It wasn’t very cold, either. I walked along for a while, and then snowflakes started dancing around me. Suddenly it got very dark. At first I loved it. The snowflakes got bigger and bigger. They were beautiful as they came straight down, as though they were in a hurry to get to the ground. Like I should be about getting this bread delivered, I thought.
The Deans lived on a dairy farm. I decided to leave the road and take a shortcut through the fields to their house. The snowflakes started swirling around. They were huge by now and seemed to move up and away from me and then back toward me again. I laughed and started to dance with them—around and around, curtsy left, swing right.
When I stopped to catch my breath, I noticed that my feet felt really cold. I looked around me. All I could see was the black night and white swirling snow. The wind picked up, and the snow was no longer gentle and friendly. It started whipping at my hat and coat. My face and nose were numb and cold. I decided to walk fast—only I didn’t know which way to walk! I strained my eyes looking into the night. I couldn’t decide which way to go. Suddenly I felt panicky. I stood very still in that spot and cried for a while, then wandered around till I seemed to hear a gentle voice say, “Pray, Jenney. Stop here and pray.”
I stopped walking and knelt in the snow. I sobbed as I prayed to Heavenly Father for help. After a few moments I felt a sweet calm come over me, and someone seemed to say, “Jenney, look up.”
I looked up, and through the darkness I saw a light flicker on. I couldn’t tell whose light it was, but there it was, shining through the dark, snowy night. I got up quickly and headed for the light. In just a few minutes I could dimly make out Brother Dean’s farm buildings. I stumbled gratefully to the barn door and called, “Brother Dean, are you there?”
Out he came, swinging his lantern. “Why, Jenney, child, what are you doing out here on a night like this?”
I held out the bread and started to sob. He didn’t say a word but put his arm around me and steered me toward the house. While he called my mom, Sister Dean had me put on some dry clothes, then brought me some hot chocolate and warm cookies. Sitting by their nice fire, I told them about how I had been lost and scared. I told them about how I had prayed and then seen the barn light. Mr. Dean smiled and slowly nodded his head, as though he already knew my story.
“Jenney,” he said, “I had finished my chores and had my dinner. I had even put on my slippers and curled up by the fire with my newspaper. I’d no sooner started reading than I had the thought to go to the barn. I brushed it off. I’d come in from the barn not a half hour before, and my cows were OK. Well, I tried to start reading again, but the thought just wouldn’t go away. So I got my tired bones up, lighted my lantern, and went to the barn. It was the strangest thing, because everything seemed to be just fine. So I said to myself, Dean, you’re getting old. Maybe you ought to sell this place and just sit in your rocking chair. Just as I was fixing to come back in, there you were, at the door, as scared as a treed cat and dripping wet. Yep, I’m sure glad I listened to that voice.” He smiled at me, adding, “Jenney, do you know whose voice it was that told me to come to the barn?”
“Yes, Brother Dean.”
I couldn’t explain where the voice came from, but I knew whose it was. My parents and my Primary teachers had taught me about the Holy Ghost. And tonight I knew that Heavenly Father had turned that light on just for me.

When Peter returned from his mission, he quickly fell into the routine of work and visits to the hospital as he continued with corrective surgery. Soon he was called to serve a stake mission. In this capacity he met the secretary to the stake mission president, Marjorie Clegg of Tooele. They became good friends, and Peter started lining her up with his friends. Finally, after being lined up one too many times, Marjorie asked him to please not arrange any more dates for her. Peter asked her out himself. Based on a foundation of friendship, the relationship grew into love, and they were married.
Except for the very first time Marjorie met me, she never seemed to notice my burns. I’m very much aware of people noticing that I’m different. I’ve never noticed that Marj ever thought me any different on the outside than she found me on the inside. She makes me feel very handsome. I love her not only because she’s my sweetheart, but because she’s my very best friend. She is the girl I prayed for who would take me for what I am on the inside. That’s what I needed because I couldn’t get very far using the outside.

My mind went back to a time when I doubted my self-worth and usefulness. I had been feeling a bit restless and perhaps even a bit discontented with my church calling. For many years I had served in various music positions. I loved these callings, and I always tried to do my very best in them. Yet there came a point when I began to feel as though I was in a rut, stuck on the very bottom rung of the “Church-calling ladder.” Other women seemed to float in and out of what appeared to me to be more important callings—serving first as Primary president, then as Gospel Doctrine teacher, then as a counselor in the Relief Society. I wondered what was wrong with me, what the flaw was in my character that the bishop did not feel I was capable of doing anything beyond music, why he felt I could not be trusted with “more.”

Then something said one day in a sacrament meeting caught my attention and humbled me to the core. The speaker, a middle-aged gentleman, had not held any “high-profile” positions in the ward for as long as I had known him. Yet he was steady and true. I knew first-hand of his second-mile efforts as a home teacher, of his behind-the-scenes work with the Scouting program, of his good heart. He began his remarks that day with the phrase, “How grateful I am for the opportunity to serve . . . .” I did not hear anything else he said. The words “how grateful I am” kept ringing in my ears. I felt ashamed of my attitude, ashamed for not having been grateful for the opportunity to serve.

This man was not worried about status or titles; he was sincerely grateful to serve in whatever capacity he was called.

Brother Ashton served a full-time mission in the Peru Lima South Mission. His decision to serve was influenced by a good friend who felt prompted to tell him he needed to serve a mission. As his friend expressed his feelings, Brian felt the Spirit’s confirmation. On his mission he was struggling with some significant health challenges when he was called to serve as president of a large branch. During this time, he prayed fervently and continually to Heavenly Father for help. “I learned to rely on Him, and He came through for me,” he said. “Learning to trust Him has made all the difference.”

As a young bishop, I learned of forgiveness when my stake president, Bruce M. Cook, shared the following story. He explained:
“During the late 1970s, some associates and I started a business. Although we did nothing illegal, some poor decisions, combined with the challenging economic times, resulted in our failure.
“Some investors filed a lawsuit to recover their losses. Their attorney happened to be a counselor in my family’s bishopric. It was very difficult to sustain the man who seemed to be seeking to destroy me. I developed some real animosity toward him and considered him my enemy. After five years of legal battles, we lost everything we owned, including our home.
“In 2002, my wife and I learned that the stake presidency in which I served as a counselor was being reorganized. As we traveled on a short vacation prior to the release, she asked me whom I would choose as my counselors if I were called as the new stake president. I did not want to speak about it, but she persisted. Eventually, one name came to my mind. She then mentioned the name of the attorney we considered to have been at the center of our difficulties 20 years earlier. As she spoke, the Spirit confirmed that he should be the other counselor. Could I forgive the man?
“When Elder David E. Sorensen extended to me the call to serve as stake president, he gave me an hour to select counselors. Through tears, I indicated that the Lord had already provided that revelation. As I spoke the name of the man I had considered my enemy, the anger, animosity, and hate I had harbored disappeared. In that moment, I learned of the peace that comes with forgiveness through the Atonement of Christ.”
In other words, my stake president did “frankly forgive” him, like Nephi of old.7 I knew President Cook and his counselor as two righteous priesthood leaders who loved one another. I determined to be like them.