Gospel Story Finder

The principle of eternal families changed my life before I was even born. When my dad asked my mother to marry him, she expressed her convictions about going to the temple in a letter that has been invaluable to our family. Part of that letter reads:
“Temple marriage is forever. It lasts beyond death. Children born to parents [who] married in the temple [and] who live up to their vows will rejoin their parents in heaven. The family unit is preserved for time and eternity. Steve, I believe as clearly as I believe the sun will rise tomorrow that this is true. And I also believe that as much as my Heavenly Father loves me, as much as He loves you, He could not preserve any other kind of relationship beyond death because He is a God of truth, bound by His word.
“Steve, if I love you this much, and I have known you only two and a half years, how much more will you mean to me as time goes by? If I can’t answer you now because I can’t face what the consequences might be, how could I ever, ever face them later?
“Without the covenant of God, two people can build their lives together, only to see it all snatched away in an unexpected nightmare. There can be no peace of mind.”
Those words supplied the added encouragement my father needed to join the Church. My mother committed to marriage, and my parents were sealed in the temple for time and eternity. My father’s testimony was strengthened by the peace of mind found through temple marriage—a peace of mind that would become very meaningful years later.

One group of BYU students I admire—our own BYU football team—refers to each other affectionately as the Band of Brothers.

The team’s motto was inspired from the lines of Shakespeare’s play Henry V:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother.
[William Shakespeare, Henry V, act 4, scene 3, lines 60–62]
This year’s members of the BYU football team have bonded to the cause of restoring tradition, being honorable, and living by the Spirit. Skeptics were cynical concerning the rare approach of this team and their leader. How can there be enough time to prepare for game day when weekly firesides are held on the eve of each game? Rough and tumble football players will get soft focusing on things of the Spirit instead of visualizing on-field violence.

This Band of Brothers strives toward holding each other accountable for the good of the whole. Selfish motives are shelved in place of team objectives. The duty to represent not only each other but also BYU and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not just a part-time thing. When one falters, all are affected. When one succeeds, all benefit!

Coach Bronco Mendenhall and the team’s leadership council have instituted what they call the Big Brother Program. Each younger player on the team is paired up with one of the upperclassmen. Each week the “big brother” conducts an interview with his “younger brother.” They address such topics as academics, football, family, girlfriends, spirituality, and any other issue the two care to discuss. Then the big brother writes a letter to Coach Mendenhall sharing any thoughts, experiences or concerns the two might have concerning each other, the team, or their teammates. The letters are confidential—some are even sacred to Bronco. Privately, Coach Mendenhall is able to assist his boys based on their communication. What has developed within this year’s team goes way beyond what is witnessed on the field of play, as can be seen in such activities as the Band of Brothers performing a team hymn at a recent pre-game fireside in Fort Collins, Colorado, the night before the Cougars played the Colorado State Rams.

A number of years ago I was ordained a bishop and set apart to preside over a campus ward. As I was endowed with the powers and keys that pertained to that function, I was given the responsibilities of a common judge in Israel. From the very beginning this was the part of the calling that I faced with the greatest apprehension, but I soon learned it was also the area in which I could provide the greatest service.
As a judge, I was responsible to hear confessions of ward members who had transgressed to such a degree that their membership in or fellowship with the Church might be brought into question. This happened, I am sorry to say, far too frequently. One of my friends asked me at that time if the students had lots of problems. I replied, halfway truthfully, that they had only a few problems—over and over. But it was precisely this “over and over” that troubled me, because not only did many ward members suffer from serious transgression, but certain of them repeated the same transgression even after coming to their bishop to try to get things resolved.
At first this fact astonished me. These students would gather up the courage to come to me and admit that they had committed acts of transgression. And I think that they were sincere in their desire to change their lives. Some of them were racked with pain and misery, and it was rare that tears were not shed by the time our interview had ended. But all too often, sometimes even within a day or two, they were back in even greater anguish to confess that they had repeated their sin.
As we would discuss the principle of repentance, I found that they were generally quite knowledgeable. Many of them could repeat lists of steps that should be taken, and many of them put a good deal of emphasis on forgiving themselves. But clearly something was lacking, for their sorrow, though genuine, did not lead to change. It was, as Paul put it, “the sorrow of the world [that] worketh death.” What they needed was “godly sorrow [that] worketh repentance to salvation.” (2 Cor. 7:10.)
It was in a simple context—that of reviewing the Articles of Faith with a new member of the Church—that I finally discovered the error in my counseling. I found that I had been dealing with the second principle of the gospel before treating the first. That is, I had placed repentance before faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. This may not seem to be a dramatic insight, but it was for me and for my ward members whom I counseled. For we rediscovered the fact that repentance is a dead and useless principle unless it is preceded by faith in Jesus Christ. The reason behind this statement is very clear: because of our imperfections, we are incapable of paying the debt of sin. Thus, without the grace and mercy of Christ, that debt cannot be paid.
What I and my ward members had failed to do was to plead with the Lord that he might “have mercy and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we might receive forgiveness of our sins.” Instead, we had suffered the sorrow of the world that leads only to death.

Abby: Hayley was 10 and I was 6 when we started.
Hayley: At first it was kind of scary because we had to audition. McKay started a little while after Abby and I began recording. Then came our brother Jacob, who still just reads for the Friend because he’s 10.
When my voice was younger I only used to read the Friend. Now I read both the Friend and New Era. We’ve all gotten better over time at enunciating things well and at making our voices go up and down to keep the sentences from all sounding the same.

This was a vision of promise, a vision of restoration of the gospel to the descendents of the seed of Joseph [2] , to the people of Hawaii. And this promise first saw light in Hawaii on December 12, 1850, with the arrival of 10 missionaries, including George Q. Cannon. Five of those first 10 missionaries returned home after a few months because there was little success in the beginning. However, George Q. Cannon said, "I came here to do the Lord's work, and I will not leave it until I have completed my mission." President Hinckley comments that "in the course of that mission, he [Elder Cannon] met this wonderful Hawaiian native, a man of tremendous capacity and great strength who proved to have courage and vision and faith." [3]

This Hawaiian native is affectionately known as Jonathan Napela. Together, George Q. Cannon and Jonathan Napela further prepared the way for the gospel to be established in Hawaii with the translating of the Book of Mormon into the Hawaiian language. The people, my people, could now learn the gospel in their native tongue. The translation of the Book of Mormon brought about many miracles and the church membership grew rapidly to 4,000 strong in a little over four years. Soon a new concern presented itself, as the Saints now needed a gathering place where they might worship together. This was a new beginning for the work of the Lord in Hawaii.

Once, when Otto was leading a San Fernando, California, LDS Boy Scout Troop, he gave a small, laughed-at lad the important task of notching his stick with a nail each time they crossed the river. Faithful to the task, the boy scratched 252 marks on the stick by the trip’s end. (Brother Fife, now choir president of the Cedar City [Utah] 5th Ward, has led 1,060 LDS Scouts through the Narrows in all.)

One of these lesser pieces has helped me learn an enduring lesson. I was in the Salt Lake Temple one day, preparing to leave the dressing room after participating in an ordinance for the dead. Noticing a drinking fountain, I realized I was thirsty, so I bent down for a quick drink. A message came into my mind:
You drink this water in the temple, but do you really drink the living water that is available here?
It wasn’t a pounding condemnation—just a gentle rebuke and a soul-penetrating question.
My answer to that question was no. I wasn’t completely drinking the temple’s living water. I had to admit that my mind had wandered minutes earlier as I received ordinances for the dead. Although I had done a good work for people who needed my help, I hadn’t allowed myself to receive all the help I needed.
Now, every time I go to a temple, I look for a drinking fountain and stop for a drink. I ask myself how deeply I am drinking from the fountain of living water. My answer: Still not deeply enough. But my thirst is increasing.

Let us walk these clearly defined paths. To help us do so we can follow the shortest sermon in the world. It can be found on a common traffic sign. It reads, “Keep Right.”

This advice was found and followed by Joe, who had been asked to get up at six in the morning and drive a crippled child 50 miles to a hospital. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver’s seat, mumbling thanks through her tears. Joe said everything would be all right and drove off quickly.

After a mile or so, the child inquired shyly, “You’re God, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid not, little fellow,” replied Joe.

“I thought you must be God,” said the child. “I heard Mother praying next to my bed and asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other boys. Do you work for God?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” said Joe, “but not regularly. I think I’m going to work for Him a lot more from now on.”

The young adult center in Oslo, Norway, is just one of many centers where young adults are learning how to build the kingdom. Take Mathilde Guillaumet, from France. Missionaries began teaching her at a center in Paris in 2009 after Sister Guillaumet’s friend invited her to learn more about the gospel.
Sister Guillaumet was baptized in 2010 and then moved to Norway for a year, where the local center for young adults continued to play a role in her growing testimony.
“The center really was a home away from home. It was definitely more welcoming than my dorm room,” said Sister Guillaumet. “The center’s missionary couple became like parents—wonderful people to come to for comfort and advice. Both in Paris and in Oslo, I have been able to go to the missionary couple to talk about the gospel, which I couldn’t do at home, considering I am the only member in my family.”

Last June I couldn’t bring myself to attend girls’ camp, but the reports I have received are beautiful. Shannon’s group of fourth-year girls performed “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God” at the first night fireside and dedicated it to my daughter. Every night thereafter they used “our song” as the closing song at the campfire meeting. The new Beehives did not know Shannon, but they could feel the Spirit as the tears flowed and the notes were sung.

I want to remind you that six months ago, following conference on Sunday, we went home to listen to a television program. We were concerned for President Gordon B. Hinckley. (I had the privilege and the honor to watch him for a number of years before he became our prophet and leader. I watched the careful way that he carried on the affairs of the Church that had been his while he was a counselor to three Presidents.) President Hinckley was to appear on a nationwide television program, and we wondered how it would come across. We knew of the importance of it and what it would mean to us. We knew of the work and the hours of prayer and meditation and study that our prophet and leader had done in being prepared for this exposure which would reach, according to the information we have received, some 35 million people. You will remember, as I remember now, the anticipation and the wonderment of how this would come across.

After that program was over, my heart was beating fast, and I felt it would burst. I was filled with joy and thanksgiving to the Lord for the way our prophet and our leader had handled the interrogation by one who had a reputation of attempting to ask questions that might be difficult to handle. What a joy it was for us to witness how our prophet and our leader had been blessed and magnified! As I watched his face on the television (and I’m sure you would have had the same reaction), I realized that a vast number of people were seeing what a prophet of God looked like: a kind, good, and handsome man, clean and intelligent. You could see the outstanding character, the personality of our prophet and leader, who would be exposed to that vast audience of people. And then when the interrogator asked President Hinckley, “Do you really believe that story that heavenly beings appeared to that young boy in that grove of trees? Do you really believe that to be true?” And here our prophet just instantly said, “Of course I do. Isn’t it great?”

Those words have been ringing through my ears ever since that happened: “Of course I do. Isn’t it great?” He made that pronouncement with such confidence and with that wonderful personality he has, declaring it to all of the world. We want President Hinckley to know that since that time, missionary activity in the United States in the area where people who heard that program reside has picked up, and member activity has picked up too. More people have become interested in the Church because they have seen a living prophet in the flesh stand before that immense audience and declare to the world, “Of course I do. Isn’t is great?” We would hope and pray that the missionaries throughout the world would have that same feeling and that same understanding and that same determination—to want to so declare this message of hope and salvation and eternal life to all the world.

In the spring of 2001, the First Presidency invited me to dedicate a building on the beautiful campus of Southern Utah State University in Cedar City, Utah. At the time, I was puzzled as to why I would receive this assignment. I am not an educator by experience or training. I was not a graduate of that institution, nor had I any previous association with the University. Nevertheless, I went ahead with the assignment.

Sister Sorensen and I were having breakfast with Brother and Sister Bennion, who, some of you may remember, was president of this institution not so many years ago. The experience I am about to tell you was spoken of by Sister Marjorie Bennion here on this campus several years ago. I have collaborated with her and she has given me permission to make reference to some of the following incidents: While at breakfast at the Southern Utah State University, Sister Bennion said to me, “I understand you are the Executive Director of the Temple Department and there is consideration being given to rebuild the Nauvoo Temple.” Before I could answer, Sister Bennion continued, “I visit teach a less-active sister whose great grandfather was the architect of the Nauvoo Temple. His name was William Weeks. Would you be interested in talking to her? I think she could be helpful. She would very much appreciate making contact with an official from the Temple Department of the Church.

I was delighted and excited. I explained to Sister Bennion that the Church had a few limited drawings and plans from the original Nauvoo Temple. They came to the Church in a rather unusual way. Let me explain.

In 1948, Elder Vern C. Thackery and Elder Frank Gifford knocked on the door of Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Griffith in the…town of Boron, California located in the Mohave Desert. It turned out that the Griffiths were descendants of William Weeks. They were not members of the Church at the time.

Their great grandfather, Brother William Weeks, had a misunderstanding with Brigham Young regarding the design of the Salt Lake Temple. President Young insisted Brother Weeks yield to the inspiration of the President of the Church. Brother Weeks left President Young’s office – never to return again. He took the plans of the Nauvoo Temple with him.

So, going forward all those years, the missionaries tracted into the Griffiths in 1948, who happened to be descendants of Brother Weeks, and miracle of miracles, had possession of some of the original plans of the Nauvoo Temple. According to Elder Thackery, he was driving an old Ford with a rumble seat, which is a seat that can be hidden. They gave Elder Thackery the documents and he put them in the rumble seat, closed it and forgot them.

Sometime later, after the Elder was home in Heber City, Utah, he remembered the documents and delivered them to the Historical Department of the Church.

Now we turn to 2001 in Cedar City, Utah with President and Sister Bennion. Remember she said, “I am visiting teaching the great-granddaughter of William Weeks. I think she has some plans of the Nauvoo Temple. Would you please go and visit with her? Better still, why don’t I go and bring her here? You can have lunch with her.”

She promptly left to retrieve the good sister and the architectural drawing. She came right back with both of them. Sister Griffiths had in her hands the actual drawings of the Nauvoo Temple – drawings the Church did not have. We quickly made arrangements for her to go to Salt Lake City and present the last pieces of the puzzle, restoring all as it was at first.

Since the Church was driven from Nauvoo, think how many places those Nauvoo Temple drawings must have been. Think of how many old trunks and covered wagons they were in, as they crossed half a continent. Imagine them passing through the generations of the Weeks family. Finally, 100 years later, consider two missionaries knocking on a remote door in the middle of the Mohave Desert.

All along Heavenly Father knew where those plans were. They weren’t lost to Him. His vigilant eye was watching over them until the time came to restore them for His great purpose of rebuilding the Nauvoo Temple in our day.

In 1957, Sister Naomi Randall was to make arrangements for a new song to be written for Primary general conference. She called Mildred Pettit, a former Primary General Board member who had written songs and operettas for children, and asked Sister Pettit to help with the music. Sister Randall said she would write the words for the song, then send them to Sister Pettit.
Before retiring that night, Sister Randall prayed for help in finding the right words for the song. Some hours later she awakened, got out of bed, and wrote the words for three verses. Then she thanked Heavenly Father for helping her. Later she mailed the lyrics to Sister Pettit in California.
Sister Pettit also wanted to have the music the way the Lord wanted it. She felt that she knew how the melody was supposed to go, but she worked on the closing phrase over and over and had her children sing it many times until she was finally satisfied that it was right. The two women worked on the chorus together, and within a week the song was completed.
Later Elder Spencer W. Kimball suggested that “Teach me all that I must know” be changed to “I must do.” He explained that “to know isn’t enough. … We have to do something.”

I could almost feel the jar of the wagon wheels as they crunched the rocks and churned the dust in the deeply rutted trail. It was an evening like many others during my teenage years in Paris, but on this particular night I was absorbed in a French television documentary about the Mormon pioneers. I had never seen anything like it before, and I marveled at the similarities between the Mormon trek and the exodus of ancient Israel from Egypt. The courage and suffering of the Mormon pioneers touched something deep within me.
I had never heard of the Mormons before, and I became interested in learning about them. But I soon became distracted by my busy life as a student and forgot the soft stirrings within me. Besides, I was only intellectually curious, or so I told myself. Little did I know then how the turning of those pioneer wagon wheels would change my life.
My mother worked in a fashion boutique in Paris and liked the Americans she met there. She grew to love the English language and encouraged me to study English even as a young child. During the summers, she sent me to England or Scotland to stay with English-speaking families. One year she encouraged me to get involved in an American summer camp exchange program. Through this program I became a camp counselor in Sharon, Vermont—the birthplace of Joseph Smith. Perhaps the Lord, even then, was trying to turn the wheels once more. Unfortunately, I heard nothing of Joseph Smith or the Mormons while I was there.
Several years later, however, the wheels turned again, with great power. I was studying English, with a specific focus on American culture, at Paris’s Sorbonne University. As I began thinking about a master’s thesis topic, I remembered the documentary about the Mormon pioneers. I asked my adviser if I could do something on them. No one at the Sorbonne had written a thesis about the Mormons, and so my adviser thought the subject might prove interesting. But he insisted that I pick an aspect of Mormonism that was unique.
After doing some preliminary research, I discovered that there was not enough information about the Mormons in the university library. I concluded I would have to talk to them. By then I had learned that the official name of the Mormon Church was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. With that information, I located the headquarters of the Paris Mission and boldly knocked on the front door. I asked the missionary who answered, “Is there someone here who can tell me about the Mormons?”
The surprised young man managed to stutter, “Yes, yes, come in!”
As my research at the mission home progressed, I learned that Latter-day Saints believe in ordinances performed for dead ancestors. The more I read about temple work for the dead, the more I wanted to use that topic. The title I finally chose for my thesis was enough to make even long-time members of the Church pause: “Genealogy and the Mormon Church.” That’s how I became known in the Paris Mission as the “Genealogy Girl.”

No one else should have noticed it. That I was aware of it was odd. In the midst of a crowded church foyer filled with lively Japanese members hurrying to Sunday School, the tiny spider was truly insignificant. Having arrived at the church a few minutes early with my missionary companion, I was sitting on a flight of stairs observing the members as they arrived. The spider had first appeared from under a wall heater, a tiny brown speck slowly progressing toward the middle of the hall. By the time its painstaking progress had lengthened to three feet, most of the members had arrived and were socializing in the hall before meetings.
My first impulse had been to brush it back under the heater. This idea was followed by the more childish notion of stepping on it. Fortunately for the spider, cruelty was quickly substituted by curiosity. The spider’s remaining lifetime appeared to be limited, increasingly so as it continued in a determined course toward the center of the crowded foyer. I was fascinated into inaction, watching and wondering how it would end—that inevitable, accidental footfall.
I will never understand how Brother Tashiro, the district president, saw it. He was obviously late as he hurried through the outside door to yet another meeting, briefcase in one hand, cassette recorder and slide projector precariously positioned under the opposite arm. His mind was surely filled with the endless responsibilities of running a mission district; yet he, too, somehow saw the tiny spider among the crowd. Immediately stopping, he set aside his load and, excusing himself, parted the crowd, stooped down and gently scooped the spider into his palm, then released it outside to a more hospitable environment. As though hardly aware of the interruption, he hurried to the waiting meeting.
It was so simple, such a natural act for that humble servant of the Lord. Then a wonderful analogy unfolded before me. I saw in my mind’s eye the Savior, stooping down from the complex business of creating worlds without number, to personally teach, exhort, and sacrifice for the sake of an uncomprehending human race, a seemingly insignificant speck in the endless corridors of eternity. With Godly devotion, he lifted man from certain doom, transporting him to an environment of freedom and opportunity wherein he could live and grow.
I thought of all the thousands of Japanese people yet unaware of the Savior’s great love, people I had been sent to teach. A new resolve filled my breast as I hurried into Sunday School class. Next time, I resolved, I would save the spider.

Here's something I never anticipated as a young adult. My oldest two children are girls: Alex, who is married and now expecting a child of her own; and Amanda, who is a student here this semester. When they were young teenagers, they pleaded with their mother to go to the midnight premier of a popular movie here in town. Their mom isn't a big movie watcher and didn't have any desire to stay up that late and watch this particular show, so they cornered me. I knew if I went, my girls would be happy and that I could use this as leverage to get them to clean up their room, so I agreed to take them. They promised me I wouldn't be disappointed, because this movie featured vampires and werewolves and was full of non-stop action and adventure. Boy, was I misinformed!

When we got to the theater and bought our popcorn, I was surprised to look around a little and see that I was the only man in the room. The whole place was full of teenage girls and their mothers, some of whom were dressed up as vampires with little bite marks on their necks or wearing t-shirts that said "Team this" or "Team that."

Once the lights went out and the show started, I felt much less self-conscious, but the movie was hardly the action thriller I was promised. As a matter of fact, about halfway through, one of the main characters appeared with his shirt off, and the room just erupted with cheers, whistling, and raucous applause. When the noise died down, I asked my daughters, "What was that all about?" I'm not sure which of the girls responded, but one of them said, "Dad, it's his abs."

When I got home my wife was in bed but still awake and asked me how the evening went. I told her about the experience, including the shirtless werewolf part, and asked her the question that had been on my mind for an hour or so: "So are abs really that important to a woman?" (I hadn't seen them in a few years, but I knew they were in there somewhere.) She quickly replied, "Oh, that's not what makes a married man attractive."

I was a little suspicious, but I pressed on. "What does make a married man attractive?"

"Vacuum cleaners," she said. "Nothing makes a man more attractive to his wife than to see him pushing the vacuum cleaner around the house."

This may be one of those lessons you young men want to learn sooner than later. This is a picture of my son-in-law, Curt, "making himself more attractive."

Isn't he adorable? Well, I not only scored some points with my daughters that day; I learned an important truth about being an attractive husband. I've been vacuuming ever since. And, incidentally, all the exercise has really been helping my abs.

Michelle sat outside the bishop’s office trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Would this interview be like a test? What if she got the answers wrong? Could she still get a temple recommend in time for her first trip to do baptisms for the dead?
“Is everything all right, honey?” Mom asked.
Michelle tried to smile. “Yes. I’m just nervous. What if I don’t know all the answers? What if I forget one of the Articles of Faith or something?”
Dad reached over and patted her hand. “It isn’t a quiz, sweetie. Just be yourself and answer honestly. You have nothing to worry about.”
But she did worry! Today was her 12th birthday, and she wanted to do baptisms for the dead the very next day. She’d been planning it for months. She was even going to wait to have her birthday party until her family got home from the temple. If she messed up in the interview and missed doing baptisms, she’d be so disappointed.
She kept running through the Articles of Faith in her mind just in case.
Soon the door opened. The bishop leaned out of his office and smiled. “Hello, Michelle. Come on in!”
Michelle gulped and walked inside his office.
The bishop started by asking Michelle about her birthday plans. That wasn’t so scary to talk about. Then they talked about her Primary class for a little while.
“Are you excited to go into Young Women?” he asked.
“Oh, yes!” Michelle answered. They talked for several minutes about why she was looking forward to becoming a Beehive.
Then the bishop asked Michelle about her testimony and if she kept the commandments. Those questions were easy to answer. She knew the Church was true. She tried to live the gospel. Michelle started feeling less worried.
And then, before she knew it, the interview was over. The bishop filled out the recommend and handed it to Michelle. She blinked at the little paper she held in her hand. She had her very own temple recommend!
The bishop smiled. “Have a happy birthday and a wonderful time at the temple.”
Michelle could hardly wait!
For the rest of the day, Michelle couldn’t think about anything but the temple. All her life she’d been learning about the temple. And tomorrow she was going inside for real.
Finally the big day arrived. Later that night there’d be a party with presents and cake. Grandma and Grandpa would be there too. But none of that was on her mind as she put on her best church clothes. She was going to the temple. Her birthday wish was coming true.
“All ready, Michelle?” Mom asked.
Michelle nodded. Boy, was she ready!
And yet, as soon as Dad pulled the car out of the driveway, Michelle started feeling jittery all over again. Would she be able to stay quiet inside the temple? She knew the temple was a sacred place, and she wanted to be reverent. But sometimes she got so excited about things that she forgot to whisper. Would this be one of those times?
But as soon as they stepped inside the temple, Michelle’s nervousness completely disappeared. She felt more peaceful and calm than she ever had before. She could feel this was a special place. Michelle was inside the temple with Mom and Dad.
This really was the best way to celebrate her birthday.

I was in another country not long ago holding a fireside for young adults. During the question-and-answer portion of the meeting, a young brother raised his hand and asked when the Church would provide more financial assistance for young adults to help them become self-reliant. I thought about this for a moment and then felt impressed to ask him if he had served a mission. He replied that he had. I asked him if he had learned to set goals while on his mission, to plan, to exercise faith, and to work diligently. He was good-natured about it and smiled as he replied that he had in fact learned those life skills. I then said to him, “You are an agent, not an object. You have the ability to act and to do whatever it is that you choose to do. You have been taught everything that you need to be successful in life. Now it is up to you to go forward in faith and to act, rather than to sit back and wait to be acted upon.” I hoped that he felt my love for him and that somehow this exchange helped him to reorient his vision for himself.

One day someone called me at work, claiming to be from the governor’s office and wanting to know if I would be interested in a position as the governor’s assistant. I laughingly asked, “Who is this?” He explained that the call was legitimate and invited me to come the next day for an interview. I went with a sinking feeling that it could be a joke. It wasn’t. The interview went well, and I was hired on the spot.
In my new job I used the skills I had gained from years of speaking in church. The governor could not attend all the events to which he was invited; therefore, his staff members were expected to speak in his place. All those talks in church and from serving in leadership positions had given me the experience I needed to speak in public alongside senators, local and national dignitaries, and celebrities. I served as the governor’s assistant for seven years until we both retired.

As a new member of the Church, I was taught the importance of gathering family records. I began immediately to keep a journal and research my genealogy. I was surprised and pleased that my parents supported my efforts and showed interest in their heritage. I began to ask them questions about their parents and grandparents.
My father was 71 years old at the time, and his memory of dates and ages wasn’t always accurate. But I learned a lot about his childhood and life experiences. When he passed away two years later, I was so grateful that I had asked him about his life! The little bit of information I received from him was so precious because I was able to research his family’s information and prepare their names for temple work.
With the help of other family members, I also searched for family records. My mother seemed pleased to hear about our heritage, and I believe it softened her heart toward me following my baptism.