Gospel Story Finder

Answer/Brother Malcolm S. Jeppsen
“The temple has always been mysterious to me,” said Mary, as she and Phil visited with me, her bishop, that Sunday afternoon. They were planning a marriage in the temple in June, and already it was the end of March. “I have always wondered what goes on inside and can hardly believe that I have become old enough to be married there for time and eternity.”
“First let me congratulate you for your wisdom in coming to me early and letting me help you with your temple plans,” I said. “You know, many young people wait until late in their plans to visit with their bishop, and occasionally this causes real problems. Especially can this be true if announcements have already been sent out telling of a planned temple marriage. But most important, let me talk to you about some of the things required of you and Phil to enter the temple and be married there. I congratulate you two for your desire to go to this sacred place and there begin your married life together. Those who do so have an eternity of possibilities before them, you know.”
Mary asked what the requirements were to enter the temple. “You know, it’s really not mysterious,” I said, “but rather something that is too sacred to discuss except within the walls of the Lord’s holy house. There are several basic requirements for a temple recommend that you and Phil have already accomplished. Let me tell you what they are. You have both been baptized by the authority of the priesthood and confirmed members of the Church. Phil, you’re already an elder and hold the Melchizedek Priesthood, and that’s a requirement. Next, you both need a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel. President Joseph Fielding Smith said in his book The Way to Perfection that no man or woman should ever enter the holy temples of our Father in heaven before having a testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. And you’ll need to each have your own endowments before you can be married for time and eternity.”
At this point Phil interrupted. “What is having one’s own endowment?”
“The endowment,” I continued, “is instruction coupled with covenants that prepare us to enter into the highest order of eternal marriage and jointly be candidates for godhood. Brigham Young said of it, ‘Let me give you a definition in brief. Your endowment is to receive all those ordinances in the House of the Lord which are necessary for you, after you have departed this life, to enable you to walk back to the presence of the Father, passing the angels who stand as sentinels, being enabled to give them the key words, the signs and tokens, pertaining to the Holy Priesthood, and gain your eternal exaltation in spite of earth and hell.’” (Journal of Discourses, 2:31.)
“What other requirements are there,” asked Mary. I then told her how important it was to be personally worthy.
“Probably more young couples fail to meet the requirements relating to this than any other,” I continued. “There must have been no unrepented moral uncleanliness prior to marriage, including heavy petting, fornication, homosexuality, or similar transgression, because the powers of procreation are most sacred. Only the simplest forms of affection should be expressed between those who date, and when passions become unrestrained during that time, it is most offensive to the Lord. Even immoral thoughts are displeasing to him. If transgressions have occurred, repentance must be complete, including sufficient time elapse before one can be admitted to the temple.”
At this point I read to them from the Doctrine and Covenants 97:15–17: “And inasmuch as my people build a house unto me in the name of the Lord, and do not suffer any unclean thing to come into it, that it be not defiled, my glory shall rest upon it;
“Yea, and my presence shall be there, for I will come into it, and all the pure in heart that shall come into it shall see God.
“But if it be defiled I will not come into it, and my glory shall not be there; for I will not come into unholy temples.” [D&C 97:15–17]
“Can you see how important it is to be morally clean before entering the Lord’s holy place?” I said.
President Marion G. Romney said in the Improvement Era (February 1965, p. 120), “God grant that we may be worthy to stand in His presence when we come here. To come unworthily into this temple and receive our endowments will not prove to be a blessing to us.”
“I can see that one must be really morally worthy to enter His house,” said Mary.
Then I outlined several other requirements. “One must live the Word of Wisdom, including abstaining from coffee, tea, alcohol, and tobacco. Abusive use of drugs should also be avoided. And one must live the law of tithing and receive the blessings that come from this expression of unselfishness.”
“These things aren’t difficult for us,” said Phil. “Are there others?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s a requirement that you be willing to sustain the local leaders and the General Authorities of the Church. Only as we stand in obedience to the teachings and commandments of the Lord, including those he gives through his living prophet and those who preside with him, can the atonement of Jesus Christ apply to us, and we be worthy to enter the temple. It’s important that we be honest in everything we do, really honest in dealing with our fellowman. We have to live righteous lives in all that we do, striving to keep all the rules, laws, and commandments of the gospel, and to attend sacrament, priesthood, and other meetings designed for our spiritual improvement. And one other thing. You can’t have any sympathetic feelings toward any of the apostate groups whose teachings are counter to the accepted doctrines of the Church.
“In summary,” I said, “it’s required of all who would enter into the temple for the purpose of celestial marriage that they be prepared, worthy, and valiant in the kingdom of God on earth. Then their blessings will abound and the Spirit of the Lord will be felt.
“There is another requirement I’d like to mention,” I said. “Because of the sacred nature of celestial or eternal marriage, it becomes doubly important that those who enter into it would be prepared to do so. I would almost think that it was a requirement that there be an intellectual preparation, if you see what I mean. Those who would so marry should be mature and in full control of their emotions. They should have, it seems to me, a distinct willingness to share and a commitment to live by principles. Someone getting married in the temple should have the ability to control his life and himself and be willing and able to sacrifice for the future.”
Mary and Phil sat thoughtfully for a moment and reflected on the discussion that they had been involved in. “Let me read you two sentences from President Harold B. Lee’s article in the Improvement Era for June 1967 (p. 144),” I said. “‘When you enter a holy temple, you are by that course gaining fellowship with the saints in God’s eternal kingdom, where time is no more. In the temples of your God you are endowed not with a rich legacy of worldly treasure, but with a wealth of eternal riches that are above price. The temple ceremonies are designed by a wise Heavenly Father who has revealed them to us in these last days as a guide and a protection throughout our lives, that you and I might not fail to merit exaltation in the celestial kingdom where God and Christ dwell.’”
“That’s quite a list of requirements and lots to ponder,” said Mary.
“I agree,” I said. “But when you kneel across the altar with your chosen companion and you know you are worthy to be in the house of the Lord, you will personally know that every effort was really worth it.”

I stayed at school for the next few weekends taking midterms. The next weekend I was home, I was curious to see how Todd was doing. Mom said he still worked the fun house job and was still working in the nursery, along with Carlie Maxwell. I was amazed, especially since Jolene Sparks had moved back east in preparation for her first semester of college.

On Sunday, I peeked into the nursery just before church let out. Carlie was rocking a child who had fallen asleep. I saw Tara come up and swing her arms around Todd’s neck, planting a big wet kiss on his cheek. Todd was wearing a bunny hat and hopping around, and all the children had on paper bunny hats, too, with wildly scribbled ears.

The bell rang to dismiss classes, and parents started coming in. Paul Myerson started to cry. He wanted to stay with Todd.

Sister Jensen came in for her little boy, beaming at Todd.

“I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but keep doing it!” she said. “Tyler loves to come to nursery now. I’ve been able to get to my class and get set up to teach my lesson instead of being late all the time.”

Other moms and dads were similarly impressed.

The nursery emptied until there was just Todd, Scottie, and me.

“Wow,” I said, stunned. “You’ve done a great job with these children.” The toys were put up, and the floor and the table and tiny chairs were clean.

“This is the best calling I’ve ever had,” Todd said. “It’s a lot of work, but these little kids are worth it.” He tickled Scottie and swung him in his arms.

This incident happened during World War II. I was serving on a four-man agriculture advisory committee to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and was chief executive officer of the National Council of Farmer Cooperatives, a federation of 4,600 farmers’ marketing organizations located in every state of the Union and in Puerto Rico.
Because of the demands of the war, materials used in farming were in short supply. With the help of the board of directors, we had organized a National Committee for Farm Production Supplies to help focus the attention of heads of government agencies on the needs of farmers. If they were to produce to the maximum, meet the challenge of the president of the United States that “food will win the war,” they must have adequate production supplies.
I had gone to my office at 1731 “I” Street N.W. early to prepare for the meeting at the White House and also the meeting of the committee in the hope that I would get much work done before office hours began and the telephone started ringing.
I had just arrived at my desk when the telephone rang. A total stranger on the other end of the line introduced himself as a prominent businessman from Chicago. He invited me to have lunch with him at a downtown hotel. I told him I was too busy for lunch, but he was so sincere and earnest that I finally agreed, and so at one o’clock I faced him across the luncheon table at the Washington Hotel in downtown Chicago.
After introductions he said, “I suppose you wonder why I have invited you to lunch inasmuch as I am a total stranger.”
I said, “Yes, I have been wondering.”
Then he said this: “Earlier in the week I came out of a businessmen’s luncheon in Chicago and while talking with some of my friends, I told them that I was going to Washington, D.C., to set up an office and hire a young man to take charge of the office and represent our corporation in the nation’s capital. I began telling my business friends the kind of a young man I would like to have represent our firm. I said I would want a young man whose integrity would never be questioned, who was clean in his habits, who would leave liquor alone and was living a clean, moral life. In fact, I would prefer to have a young man who didn’t smoke.”
Then he said, “One of my business associates said, ‘What you want is a returned Mormon missionary.’
“I had heard about the Mormon Church,” he continued, “but I knew very little about their organization or standards. I knew they had missionaries because my wife told me that she had a very pleasant conversation with two young men in dark suits who had called during the day and left literature.”
He added, “As I rode down here on the train last evening, I thought to myself that possibly the suggestion of my business friend had merit. Possibly that’s just the kind of a young man I do want—a returned Mormon missionary. When I registered at the hotel here last evening, I said to the clerk at the desk, ‘Are there any Mormons in Washington?’
“He said, ‘I don’t know. I suppose there are; they seem to be everywhere.’ But I said to him, ‘Do you know any?’ He said, ‘Frankly I can’t say that I do, but Mr. Bush, the manager, is here, and maybe he can help you.’”
Then my new acquaintance said, “I put the question to Mr. Bush and he gave me your name. Now that’s why I’ve invited you to lunch. Can you give me the names of three or four young men who meet the standards I have outlined? I would like to interview them for a job that I think has a great future with a starting salary of some eight or nine thousand dollars.” (In the 1940s the purchasing power of the dollar was about three times what it is today.)
My new-found friend continued, “Our corporation is one of the largest in Chicago and has among its assets the largest hotel in the city.” And he repeated, “Can you give me the names of three or four young men?”
I was happy to tell him, as president of the Washington Stake, that I could not only give him the names of three or four, but ten, or fifteen, or twenty, any one of whom I felt sure would meet the standards that he had outlined.
Yes, it pays for young men, and young women too, to maintain the standards of the Church and be true to the faith.

It was a hot day in July. I remember it well. After working hard in our yard all morning, Dad wiped the sweat from his face and neck with his handkerchief and looked up toward the east mountains.
“It would be nice and cool at Fish Lake. It’s going to be a scorcher here all day, that’s for sure.” Dad looked tired. He’d been up since dawn.
“What if I packed a lunch and we went to Fish Lake for the rest of the day?” Mama suggested.
Lorraine, the oldest of the children, was sent to Berthelson’s store for a can of deviled ham and some cheese to make sandwiches. The rest of us scurried to get ready to go. We put the camp quilt Grandma made for us in the trunk of our new 1952 Chevrolet. Now we would have something to spread out under the trees. We could put our tablecloth on it for our picnic, and Dad would have a soft place to lie and rest during the afternoon.
“If only I had time to stir up a cake,” Mama wailed. “We don’t have a thing for dessert.”
“Take some bottled fruit,” Dad advised. “It’s too hot to heat up the oven.” He was always in a hurry it seemed. Maybe he was anxious to get started so he could see how well our new car, that we had saved so long to buy, would climb steep Oak Springs Hollow Road.
Lorraine was back with the deviled ham and cheese. “They had watermelons at the store, but they cost a whole dollar.”
“Oh, let’s stop and buy one for dessert,” the rest of us chanted. We hadn’t tasted watermelon yet that year.
We counted out our money. “If we buy the watermelon, there won’t be enough left to buy gasoline,” Mama reasoned.
“Maybe we could charge it until our milk check comes?” Lorraine offered. “Mrs. Berthelson let Sue Ellen’s mama get one and pay for it later.”
“Now you know how your dad feels about buying and paying later.” Mama packed a bottle of peaches and a jar of apricot marmalade from the cellar into our lunch basket.
Daddy knew the exact spot to eat our lunch over on old Sawtooth Mountain. He’d been there when he was a Boy Scout and had never forgotten the fun he had. We couldn’t drive all the way up, so we parked at the foot of the steep trail and carried our things up the mountainside. We found a place where tall trees grew, and shade was as dense as green velvet. There on a little plateau, by a trickling stream fed by snowbanks, near the top of the mountain, we spread out the quilt.
Mama sent us upstream to fill the water jug. Lo and behold, what did we spy but a plump watermelon nestled among wet gray rocks in the water!
“Come and see,” we shouted. “Come see what we found.”
The whole family came immediately to the spot. Everyone stared in amazement, taking turns touching the melon. It was icy cold.
“Heavenly Father must have known just how much we wanted a watermelon for our lunch,” little Geraldine laughed, clapping her hands for joy.
That melon was as crisp as a September morn. It would crack when we opened it. We could just see its ripe perfection, taste its juicy sweetness.
“Heavenly Father knew how much we like watermelon,” Lorraine added.
“Heavenly Father doesn’t have melons grow in water,” Dad remarked. “He makes them grow on vines. No, somebody put that melon in this creek to cool, and somebody will be coming back to get it.”
We looked all around. We couldn’t see anyone, not even footprints. We listened. We couldn’t hear a thing except the gurgling of water tumbling over rocks. Yet in our hearts we knew it would be wrong to take something that did not belong to us.”
“Oh, Dad, you’re such a killjoy. Maybe whoever put it there forgot where it is, and if we don’t eat it, it might just lie there and spoil.”
Disappointment showed in our faces.
“What is the matter with bottled peaches?” Dad coaxed back our smiles.
Bottled peaches would be just fine.
We left the cold melon where it was. We ate our lunch, including peaches for dessert, and while we were eating no one mentioned watermelon. As we walked down the trail back to the car and all the way home, we wondered if anyone would come for it.
Sometimes I think about that watermelon. Whenever I cut into a crisp melon that cracks open to reveal a deep red heart, or I eat a bite of the sweet, juicy fruit, I remember that day in the mountains when Dad taught us simply by his example a lesson in a long line of lessons that have shaped our lives.

Immediately following the 8.0-magnitude earthquake in Peru in August 2007—the deadliest quake to hit the country in the last 35 years—local Church leaders began assessing the urgent needs of all Peruvians, not only those of the Latter-day Saint faith, in the hard-hit port city of Pisco.
While a 747 cargo plane loaded in Salt Lake City with vital medical supplies, surgical instruments, family food boxes, hygiene kits, and tarps was making its way to Peru, Elder Walter F. González of the Presidency of the Seventy, then President of the South America West Area, directed the purchasing of food locally and opened four meetinghouses to serve as shelters.
Two days after the earthquake, Elder González represented the Church at a ceremony where more than 8,000 blankets were donated to Pilar Nores de García, the first lady of Peru, to be distributed to Peruvians affected by the quake.

Eight years later, on Christmas Day of 1843, the Prophet recorded another memorable Christmas. The celebration began quite early in the morning when carolers serenaded the Prophet’s home around 1:00 A.M. This surprise visit made the Prophet very happy; he recorded that the singing “caused a thrill of pleasure to run through [his] soul” (History of the Church, 6:134).
The day continued with a large party. That afternoon Joseph and Emma hosted about 50 couples for dinner, and Joseph recorded the following about the gathering:
“Monday, December 25—A large party supped at my house, and spent the evening in music, dancing, &c., in a most cheerful and friendly manner” (History of the Church, 6:134).

“We hear some these days who say that because of economic pressures they cannot afford to pay their tithing. I recall an experience I had as a stake president some years ago. A man came to get his temple recommend signed. I questioned him in the usual way and asked, among other things, whether he was paying an honest tithing. He candidly replied that he was not, that he could not afford to because of his many debts. I felt impressed to tell him that he would not pay his debts until he paid his tithing.

“He went along for a year or two in his normal way, and then made a decision. He talked about it sometime later, telling me: ‘What you told me has proved to be true. I felt I could not pay my tithing because of my debts. I discovered that no matter how hard I tried, somehow I could not manage to reduce my debt. Finally my wife and I sat down together and talked about it and concluded we would try the promise of the Lord. We have done so. And somehow in a way we can’t quite understand, the Lord has blessed us. We have not missed that which we have given to him, and for the first time in many years we are reducing our debt. We have come to the wisdom of budgeting our expenditures and of determining where our funds have been going. Because we now have a higher objective, we are able to curtail some of our appetites and desires. And above all of this, we feel we can now go to the house of the Lord with those deserving of this wonderful blessing.’

“We can pay our tithing. It is not so much a matter of money as it is a matter of faith. I have yet to find a faithful tithe payer who cannot testify that in a very literal and wonderful way the windows of heaven have been opened and blessings have been poured out upon him or her.”3

Taukolo Langi also made a journey that required great faith, while serving a mission with his wife, Temalisi, in Ha‘apai. Asked to extend their mission in order for Brother Langi to serve as branch president in Felemea, the couple began working with the less-active Saints there.
One Saturday in 1958, Brother Langi and his five-year-old son, Taniela, found themselves unable to return to Sunday meetings in Felemea after attending district meetings in Pangai. While the low tide allowed them to cross the reef to Uoleva, their friend, Sione Moala Havili, discouraged them from even thinking about crossing the channel to Felemea. The ocean was so treacherous that no vessels were either coming or going. But brother Langi had only one thing in mind to get back to preside over Sunday services in Felemea and to see his wife, who was eight months pregnant with their second child:
I was determined to attempt the crossing and felt that since I was on the Lord’s errand, we would be protected. I asked Taniela to kneel with me by Sione Moala’s outrigger canoe and beg Heavenly Father to bless our crossing. We offered the prayer as huge waves crashed and rolled into shore.
I shoved off in the ocean with little Taniela seated just in front of me. Although my faith was strong, I was not expecting a smooth journey over these, the roughest waters in Tonga, especially in a Tongan outrigger that sat so low in the water.
But we might just as well have been skimming across a becalmed surface. We hardly got wet. Nor did we have to bail water. We landed easily through the surf and were pressed with questions by people astounded at our appearance. No one had left the shores of Felemea for three days because the sea had been so rough. I felt deep gratitude for the obvious blessing from the Lord.

Towards the end of 2020, for a series of four podcasts called ‘Real Questions’, LDS Living invited youth to send in questions relating to their concerns around important issues.
Scarlett Smith, a young woman from the Harrogate Ward in the York Stake, was fortunate to be able to take part in one of the four discussions. It was led by co-creator David Butler, who welcomed two surprise guests, Bonnie H Cordon, the Young Women’s General President and the Young Men’s General President, Steven J Lund.
Scarlett’s question was, “I live part time with my dad and part time with my mum, and they have different beliefs. What are some of the things we can do to stay focused on the gospel when we have different viewpoints in our family?’ Scarlett said, “I wasn’t sure what I could do to stay focused on the gospel when I have different viewpoints in my own family.” Realising other young people may have the same problem prompted her to submit her question.
Sister Cordon thanked Scarlett for asking her question and highlighted that there are so many other young people in the same situation. She asked what Scarlett found the easiest about this situation, and she responded that it helped her to relate to other friends in similar situations and enables them to help each other. Sister Cordon’s second question was, “What advice would you give to someone in your position?” Scarlett replied, “I would tell them to follow prompts that they get and to keep praying. Don’t distance yourself from the gospel.” Sister Cordon’s response was, “That’s a fabulous response, l love that—don’t distance yourself.”
President Cordon counselled Scarlett to, “Pray for your mom and dad that you will be able to share with them what is in your heart, the things that are very important to you. Seek to share good things with your family… Do it wherever you are. If you are at Mom’s house, you do it at Mom’s house, if you are at Dad’s house, you do it at Dad’s house … it will be a lifeline for you.”
President Lund highlighted that all of us are surrounded by people we care about that don’t believe the same things as we do; it can be especially difficult when it’s someone we are really close to and whom we love. Elder Lund asked, “Who is in your life that is on your side. Are there people around you who are supportive of your values?” Scarlett feels blessed that she has friends that are supportive even though they may not share her beliefs.
President Lund remarked, “Sometimes always doing the right thing against a headwind requires courage.”
“When talking with the general leaders of the Church, I was very excited at first because I didn’t know that they were going to be there. … I felt the Spirit strongly, as I knew the words that they spoke were true and that asking this question would not only help me but many others in the same position”, Scarlett said.
Meeting host David Butler said, “Life is always going to change, but there are some things that can always remain constant. No matter what life looks like, you can stay connected to God, and stay connected to the gospel.”
It was a wonderful experience for Scarlett to have been able to take part and receive direct counsel from Church leaders who made a significant impression on her. She said, “I started straightaway to establish and act on the words and things that had been said, as I knew they were true, and I knew it would help me build my faith. I felt full, and at peace, as I knew what I had to do and knew it was right.”
You can watch the interview with Scarlett at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YY4Bj49wkdQ

I have thick, curly, wild hair. It has more volume than the tuba section at a middle school band concert. It’s huge. Unfortunately, super silky, straight hair was the trend in high school, so I lived in fear of frizz and bought tool after tool to hide my unruly locks—hair straighteners, blow drier attachments, smoothing oil, smoothing cream. When I got home from school every day, I would go to my room, plug in my straightener, and spend the rest of the afternoon flattening my hair while I did my homework.
Despite my best efforts to have soft, movie-star-straight locks, my hair usually came out looking pretty fried and bumpy. I started to hate the way I looked, and I often wished I could magically change that one thing about me. I just wanted to fit in and look “normal” for once.
Then when I was 16, I was cast in a musical that was set in the 1980s. As we were nearing the performance, the director showed us photos of how our characters would have worn their hair.
When the pictures got to me, I was astounded.
What was I seeing?!
Poofy hair? On such gorgeous women? I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe having wild hair wouldn’t be such a bad thing for once.
Before our performances, while all the other girls were ratting their hair and hosing themselves down with hair spray, all I had to do was let my hair air-dry and run my fingers through it. I couldn’t help being proud—for the first time, my wild hair was awesome!
And you know what? Other people thought so too. They started complementing me on how it looked. “Is that your natural hair?” a lot of my friends asked. “Why don’t you ever wear it like that?” “It’s different! It’s cool!”
After the play, I decided that I was going to just let my hair be. Even if it was different from what was popular, it was me—the real me. I started leaving my hair straightener on the shelf more and more, and I eventually gave it away.
And something else happened too. Learning to accept how I looked, frizz and all, helped me stand up for the other things in my life that made me unique, namely things related to my faith.
In my high school, I was one of only two Church members. As I let my locks go natural, I realized I didn’t have to be scared of standing out in a crowd. I shared the Book of Mormon with some of my choir friends—and to my surprise, they were interested in learning more! For prom, I designed and wore a unique, modest prom dress that definitely made me stand out. I started speaking out about bad language in the locker room at track practice. I felt happier than ever—all because I decided to love who I am.
I still straighten my hair sometimes, but to be honest, I like it better curly now. Besides, it’s a reminder for me to stand out and be who I really am—no matter what.

As my husband and I participated in the ordinance of the sacrament in our home for the first time, I felt the Spirit so strongly that I had trouble singing the hymn we had chosen. In my 70-plus years of attending our worship services, I don’t remember appreciating so deeply the blessings we have received through our membership and participation in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
We have been taught how to worship and whom we worship. Yes, we miss the association with our fellow Saints and will be happy to return to “normal” as soon as possible, but I am grateful for the lessons we are learning in the meantime as we follow the prophet’s counsel in our “home-centered, Church-supported” worship.
Susan Preator, Montana, USA

Weeks into their voyage, the crews that were with Columbus grew restless and fearful, and the captains of the Nina and the Pinta both wanted to turn back. Columbus would not give up, however, and he finally promised that if land was not sighted in forty-eight hours, they would turn back. That night in his cabin, Columbus “prayed mightily to the Lord,”* and on the very next day, October 12, land was sighted.

I have always had a difficult time wading into a lake or river slowly. It is just like cutting your finger off a little bit at a time! I would rather have one giant breathtaking shock than the dozens of painful ones that come from slowly wading into the river.
A few years back I was at a Young Men’s camp in Canada. At that time, local Church members furnished all of our instructors and youth leaders and ran the camp with wonderful members of the Church.
During the week I was there, the staff organized a “Polar Bear” club. In order to qualify you had to swim at 6:00 A.M. four mornings in a row in the cold Elbow River. It had snowed eight inches at an elevation 1,000 feet higher than our camp. Of course the staff thought I ought to join the club.
At 6:00 A.M., down to the river we went. I filled my lungs with all the air they could hold so I could not suck in anything else when the shock of the cold water caused me to catch my breath. I dove in, and it was ice cold. I swam to the middle of the river where it was almost chest deep.
In a moment a stake president dove in and came up right beside me. After the shock of cold, he asked, “Did I have my glasses on?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Did you?” He said he thought he had.
“Swim over to the bank and see.”
In a moment he came back and said, “I did have them on.”
The Elbow River was flowing about 10 to 12 miles an hour. I imagined it would have carried his glasses down the river toward Calgary.
Here was a stake president who had spent his own money to drive from western Canada to Calgary, had brought his whole family with him in an older wood-paneled station wagon. He had all the gasoline, lodging, and meal expenses coming, and the training fees. I knew it must have been a terrific financial strain on him. I was certain he could not afford $200 or $300 for a new pair of glasses.
I walked upstream about 20 or 30 feet. I offered a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me find his glasses. Mind you, it was 6:00 A.M., the water was cold and clear but flowing relatively fast. I lay down on my back and floated downstream. I had an impression and stopped. I looked down in the water and thought I could see something glistening on the bottom of the river. I dove down and came up with the stake president’s glasses and handed them to this great man.
I have thought of this incident many times since. I believe it was an experience that taught me to see more clearly how much the Lord loves those who, like this stake president, do their best to serve him. He who knows when the sparrow falls also knows when his children are in need of even the smallest things. (See Matt. 10:29–31.)

There was a determination about Elmer that I came to admire. He had an appreciation for nature and beauty and loved to see things grow. Every morning you could see him heading out to work in his garden. With the aid of an old walking stick, Elmer would drag his crippled leg behind him. The walk itself was difficult, and keeping the weeds out of his large garden seemed to me to be a monumental task. It wasn’t easy, but he took pride in the beautiful produce that grew there. I would help him when I could. I enjoyed our conversations. He was full of interesting facts that he was willing to share with a listening boy.
He liked to grow unusual things in his garden, and one spring day I remember asking him what he was planting. He replied, “Goober peas.” When I told him I had never heard of goober peas, he gave me some and told me to go home and plant them in our garden. I did, and I watched them carefully as they grew. When I expressed my concern that I couldn’t see any fruit on the vine, he told me to be patient. The day came when it was time to harvest the goober peas. Elmer showed me how to dig around the plants, and was I surprised and delighted to find that under the ground were mounds of peanuts just waiting to be roasted—Elmer’s goober peas.
Over the years I learned many things from Elmer Sessions—lessons about patience, determination, endurance, and long-suffering. I learned that friends can come in a variety of sizes, shapes, and ages. That an old man and a young boy can be friends. Friendships can easily span years when two people are willing to listen and care and reach out to each other.

My parents live on the east side of town on the other side from my apartment and campus. When I decided that I wanted to attend state university but didn’t want to live at home, I moved out and into the back room of an old, dark-green Victorian house with white trim. My parents were pretty understanding. We’ve always talked together fairly well. When I quit going to priesthood, and then Sunday School, and then Church completely, they never threatened or yelled at me. I’m sure they felt unhappy inside, but I always knew they loved me. I never really ignored my parents, but I had friends and things at school and got pretty busy. Still, my folks would call me up just to say hi, and my mom would bring over some of her delicious carrot cake every now and then. In fact, when I first started going back to church, because of two great home teachers, I didn’t say much about it to my parents. I remember the little pause the first time after I asked them to attend church with me at the institute, and then my dad said, “Are you sure?”
I was surprised when I got to my folks’ and found the lights off and the car gone. But I noticed the backyard light was on, so I got out of my car and went around the side. Out back I saw my dad working on his pride and joy, his small, old sailboat. When I was little we would go sailing on Lake Lourraine, up north. The boat really wasn’t very much. Only one at a time could get in it, but we all liked to try it, even if we spent most of the time in the lake and not the boat. As everybody grew older, everybody got busier, and we didn’t take the boat out much. Finally, it sat pushed against the garage until my youngest brother grazed it with the car; then, we hid it under some tarp behind the house. Now that all the kids are gone, my dad’s interest in sailing has flared up again. Late last year he started to tinker with the boat. A few weeks ago, I helped him paint it white.
“Ship ahoy,” I called as I walked around the house.
“Hey, what a surprise! Just what I needed, another hand.”
“Sounds fine. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by. Where’s mom?”
“Oh, she’s over at the neighbors. Did you just see Bishop Smith?”
“Boy, whatever happened to subtlety?”
“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about you tonight. Here, help me sand a little.” My dad gave me some yellow, fine-grade sandpaper. We both started to work.
“Well,” I said, “do you want to know what we talked about?”
“Whatever happened to subtlety?”
I smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
“You tell him you’re too old?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he fall for it?”
I looked quickly at my dad. He was grinning at me. “No,” I said, “bishops don’t fall for much of anything. I guess dads don’t either.”
“I guess not. So, what are your plans?”
I walked over to the back steps and sat down. “I don’t know. What do you suggest?”
“What’s more important is what you think. It’s up to you, Jeff. You and the Lord. Have you ever talked to him about your future, about a mission?”
The words weighed on me, and I fiddled with a stem of foxtail grass I had pulled up. “No,” I said quietly, surprised that the night was so still.
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
“I’m afraid he wouldn’t answer or want me. I’ve let him down before.”
My dad started sanding again, and I looked up at the sky and saw Venus burning brightly. “Isn’t she a beautiful boat?” my dad said.
I was glad to change the subject. “She sure is. A beaut.”
“I hope you’ll go sailing with me sometime.”
“You can count on that.”
“She might sink on us, you know.”
“Come on,” I laughed. “She’ll float just fine.”
“Well, she used to be a wreck.”
“But look at her now,” I said. “We’re proud of her. I’d be a fool not to sail in a boat as good as this one.” I paused for a moment and looked straight at my dad. “You know, I get the feeling you want to tell me something.”
“Son, we’d all be in pretty bad shape if we couldn’t start over when we make mistakes. We wouldn’t have a chance.”
“I know, dad.”
“Why don’t you ask the Lord, Jeff. You might be surprised.”
“Do you think he’ll answer me?”
“I promise you he will.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking at my dad’s hands still holding the sandpaper. “I mean it.”
“You know, Jeff, maybe you’d like to fast before you ask. Your mom and I would be glad to fast with you.”
We sanded some more, and I told my dad about work with Professor Gotlieb. When mom came home, we talked about fasting together. My parents were right behind me, and we agreed to do it. As I drove to my apartment, I could smell the scent of rain on the pines in the mountains mixed with apple tree blossoms. I thought of some things I’d like to do before I fasted. And for the first time, way back in my mind, I knew I’d be calling Bishop Smith soon, sooner perhaps than even he expected. And this time, I wouldn’t be going to his office with any excuses.

Some years ago, President Gordon B. Hinckley told “something of a parable” about “a one room school house in the mountains of Virginia where the boys were so rough no teacher had been able to handle them.
“Then one day an inexperienced young teacher applied. He was told that every teacher had received an awful beating, but the teacher accepted the risk. The first day of school the teacher asked the boys to establish their own rules and the penalty for breaking the rules. The class came up with 10 rules, which were written on the blackboard. Then the teacher asked, ‘What shall we do with one who breaks the rules?’
“‘Beat him across the back ten times without his coat on,’ came the response.
“A day or so later, … the lunch of a big student, named Tom, was stolen. ‘The thief was located—a little hungry fellow, about ten years old.’
“As Little Jim came up to take his licking, he pleaded to keep his coat on. ‘Take your coat off,’ the teacher said. ‘You helped make the rules!’
“The boy took off the coat. He had no shirt and revealed a bony little crippled body. As the teacher hesitated with the rod, Big Tom jumped to his feet and volunteered to take the boy’s licking.
“‘Very well, there is a certain law that one can become a substitute for another. Are you all agreed?’ the teacher asked.
“After five strokes across Tom’s back, the rod broke. The class was sobbing. ‘Little Jim had reached up and caught Tom with both arms around his neck. “Tom, I’m sorry that I stole your lunch, but I was awful hungry. Tom, I will love you till I die for taking my licking for me! Yes, I will love you forever!”’”

I had no problem attending church on Sunday, but I was not as enthusiastic about attending Primary because it was on Saturday morning at that time. When I was 10, Thelma came home one Saturday and told my other siblings about a great soccer game between the deacons and the Blazers (11-year-old Scouts). She pointed out how unfortunate it was that I had missed the game because I had not attended Primary. Needless to say, I went the following Saturday (with my soccer cleats on) and never missed it again.

“Water rushed over Greg’s face and he panicked. I tried to help him, but he fought me because he was scared. We gave him a board to hang onto, but it gave away. I grabbed him, but he pulled me under with him. When we came up, I grabbed his hair and started for shore, but he threw his arms around my neck and wouldn’t let go.
“Finally I broke the hold and again started working him to shore. He struggled all the way. I was tired, but I knew I had to keep trying. The water was deep—I never touched bottom in the middle. Just as I reached shore, a cramp set in my leg and I couldn’t move. But we had made it, and were both okay.”
What may sound like a passage from a pioneer journal describing the crossing of the Mississippi is actually 17-year-old Daniel Kite’s description of how he rescued a sixth-grader from the Weber River near Ogden, Utah. Dan, a member of Troop 38, Hooper First Ward, Hooper Utah Stake, was awarded a Certificate for Heroism by the Boy Scouts of America.
But Dan wasn’t alone in receiving the honor. When the National Court of Honor announced recipients of recognition for heroic action last October, there were ten Latter-day Saint Scouts and leaders among the 216 honored.
Ten-year-old Kristin E. Hofmeister received the highest award of any of the LDS Scouts. He was awarded an Honor Medal, which is given for “unusual heroism in saving or attempting to save life at the risk of [his] own.” Kristin rescued his cousin, who had fallen through ice into six feet of chilling water. He remembered the importance of lying flat on the ice so it would not crack as he worked his way to the edge of the water.
“I feel the Lord gave me more strength than I usually have so I could pull him out,” Kristin said. “He is the same age I am, but he seemed to come out easily, although I normally couldn’t have lifted him like that.” Kristin is in Pack 108, Honeyville Ward, Brigham City Utah North Stake.
Several other Latter-day Saints received Medals of Merit, awarded to “Scouts who perform an outstanding service of an exceptional character, practicing Scout skills and ideals, but not necessarily involving risk of life.”
A. Kenneth Crockett, a Scoutmaster, administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a 60-year-old man who collapsed in a bank lobby. Thanks to Brother Crockett’s efforts, the man began breathing again before the ambulance arrived. “Any one of the 20 people in the bank at the time could have done what I did,” Brother Crockett said, “but they were waiting for someone else to act.” He is a member of the Globe First Ward, Globe Arizona Stake, and was at the time Scoutmaster of Troop 3. He has since been released and is presently serving on the stake high council.
Craig Galbasini, 11, saved his one-year-old brother Ryan from drowning when Ryan tipped his walker upside down into a swimming pool. “I assume the Lord was watching out for Ryan, and I was there to help him,” Craig said. Active in the Scottsdale Fourth Ward, Scottsdale Arizona Stake, Craig is a member of Pack 418.
Lee W. Johnson, who was at the time Cubmaster of Pack 218, rescued his brother from underneath a fallen haystack. “My brother was covered by a haystack four feet deep and about 20 feet square. Where do you dig? In my mind a voice said, ‘Over here.’ I dug to within six inches of my unconscious brother, and the voice said, ‘Throw the pitch fork away.’ And there he was. You have to give somebody besides myself credit for something like that.” Brother Johnson is in the Benson Ward, Benson Utah Stake.
Michael P. Poppleton, 10, saved his brother Chris’s life by holding the youngster’s arm and head above swift-flowing water in an irrigation culvert until additional help came. “My little brother’s life was in my hands,” Mike said. “I did what I had to to save him.” Mike is in Pack 221 and is a member of the Wellsville Third Ward, Logan Utah Stake.
Michael J. Parry, 17, of Orem, Utah, applied direct pressure to a laceration on his sister’s arm, controlling bleeding until paramedics came. “It was frightening to see my sister lying hurt and to know she could die. I kept praying she would be all right, and when I heard the ambulance, I had a burning sensation in my heart that told me she would be okay. I think the Lord was directing me the whole time in order to save her life.” Mike is in the Orem 47th Ward, Orem Utah Windsor Stake, and is a member of Post 1447.
Timothy Stewart, 14, rescued his brother when he fell through ice on a pond. “I got down on the ice and crawled about nine feet from the shore. The ice broke under me just as I reached him. I got him out, but broke through the ice two more times before we got to shore,” Tim said. Tim is a member of the Newton Branch, Wichita Kansas Stake, and belongs to Troop 328.
Brent Robinson rescued a woman’s son who was stranded on a cliff. “A lady knocked at our door and said her son was trapped. We got a rope, and I climbed to where he was stranded. I couldn’t get him down from below the cliff, so I came down to him from above and then pulled him up with the rope,” Brent said. Brent, 16, is from Post 363, Kanab Third Ward, Kanab Utah Stake.
David Worthington, 11, saved a friend who was drowning. A member of the Washington Second Ward, St. George Utah East Stake, and (at the time) of Pack 416, David reacted mostly on instinct reinforced with good Scout training. “I knew I was supposed to help someone in trouble,” he said. He is now a Tenderfoot in Troop 416.
In addition to the LDS recipients, there was at least one Scout recognized who came from an LDS-sponsored troop but who is not a member of the Church. John C. Eisenhart received a Medal of Merit for saving his grandfather’s life when the grandfather fell from a six-foot ladder and fractured his skull. John used a handkerchief compress to stop the bleeding, and then called an emergency squad. The wound required 61 stitches. “I was glad that I had had my Boy Scout first aid training,” John said. He is senior patrol leader of Troop 51, Newark Ward, Columbus Ohio East Stake.
All of the Scouts had advice to offer to others who might find themselves in emergencies. “I would never have thought it would happen to me,” Mike Parry said. “I think people should be ready for things like this and get proper training in advance because things like this will happen.”
Brent advised hikers to always travel with a partner and not to take shortcuts. “Stay on the trail or you’ll get in trouble,” he said. Daniel warned swimmers to know the water they’re swimming in and not to swim in conditions beyond their capability. Kristin advised everyone to learn how to swim and to become familiar with lifesaving techniques. Brother Crockett advised those who find themselves in an emergency to do something, rather than just watch, which complemented Brother Johnson’s advice to “be quick and alert, but think things out before you act. Keep calm and don’t panic. Move as quickly as possible and listen for guidance from the Lord.” Mike Poppleton said Scouts should pay attention during classes on lifesaving techniques so that when an emergency does arise, they’ll be able to think of what to do. And the entire group agreed that proper training is vital and that people should be careful about what they do if they have had no training.
Most of the group agreed that their rescue efforts had been a spiritual experience for them. “At the time I acted only on instinct, but since then I have thought how great it is that I was able to save one of Heavenly Father’s sons,” Kristin said. Dan said he felt the Lord helped him “keep a straight head,” and gave him that “additional strength needed to get to shore before the cramp set in.”
“I found the experience to be very humbling,” Brother Crockett said. “I feel that through the Church programs the Lord provides for us, including Scouting, that I was prepared to act in this emergency.” Mike Parry said, “It strengthened my testimony to know that the Lord helped me to be in the right place at the right time.”
But perhaps it was Brother Johnson who summed up the most common sentiment: “It was a spiritual experience,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want another one of this kind.”
Editor’s note: Since the 1978 awards, the New Era has learned of one additional LDS Scout who has received national attention for his heroism. Eleven-year-old Roger Walters, a member of Troop 839, which is sponsored by the Union 18th Ward, Sandy Utah Willow Creek Stake, was cited for saving the life of his five-year-old sister Tanya, who fell into deep water at a reservoir. He was awarded the Medal for Heroism, an award similar to those mentioned above.

I have many memories of my boyhood. Anticipating Sunday dinner was one of them. Just as we children hovered at our so-called starvation level and sat anxiously at the table, with the aroma of roast beef filling the room, Mother would say to me, “Tommy, before we eat, take this plate I’ve prepared down the street to Old Bob and hurry back.” I could never understand why we couldn’t first eat and later deliver his plate of food. I never questioned aloud but would run down to Bob’s house and then wait anxiously as his aged feet brought him eventually to the door. Then I would hand him the plate of food. He would present to me the clean plate from the previous Sunday and offer me a dime as pay for my services. My answer was always the same: “I can’t accept the money. My mother would tan my hide.” He would then run his wrinkled hand through my blond hair and say, “My boy, you have a wonderful mother. Tell her thank you.” You know, I think I never did tell her. I sort of felt Mother didn’t need to be told. She seemed to sense his gratitude. I remember, too, that Sunday dinner always seemed to taste a bit better after I had returned from my errand.

Each day will be a good day if we will think of the Savior and make Him the center of our lives, for He is “the light, and the life, and the truth of the world” (Ether 4:12). Following the Savior will help us to be honest. I would like to tell you about a twelve-year-old boy in the Philippines who is following the Savior.
Julius had gone to school without eating any breakfast, and during class his stomach began to make funny sounds. During recess he hurried to a nearby barbecue stand. He took two sticks of meat, ate the food, and went back to class.
When he returned, he discovered he had not given the pesos for the food. Without hesitation he ran back and paid for his snack. When he arrived back at the classroom, he found a very angry teacher. He had forgotten to ask permission to leave. She wanted to know what he had been doing. He told her everything. Then she put her arm on his shoulder and, facing the class, said, “Class, I want you to be honest like Julius.” She asked him why he returned the money when he could have kept it.
He answered, “Because I believe in being honest.”
“What is your religion?” she wanted to know.
Without hesitation, he said, “I am a Mormon.”
“Oh,” she responded, “no wonder.”
Julius is making each day a good day by always being honest.