Gospel Story Finder

Matthew put his head down and walked faster. He tried not to see the white stucco house ahead. He knew he should stop. Mother would probably ask him, “Did you see Grandma today?” He sighed. He used to stop almost every day on his way home from school.
Then Grandpa died.
Matthew hadn’t known what to say to Grandma since Grandpa died. She was sad now. Sometimes when she talked about Grandpa, she cried.
Other people seemed to know what to say to Grandma. They put their arms around her and told her not to cry. But Matthew never knew what to say or do. He just stood there feeling uncomfortable.
Matthew walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. Grandma opened it. Her eyes were red. Matthew’s heart sank. He wished he had walked on past her house.
“Come in, dear.”
Matthew went in. He saw a box on the floor in the hall. Inside was a small rosebush, its roots wrapped with burlap and packing.
Every year Grandpa ordered a new rosebush for his garden. He must have ordered this one before he died.
“Take it home with you, Matthew. I can’t bear to look at it,” sniffed Grandma.
“No,” said Matthew. He gulped, surprised at himself, then plunged on. “Grandpa would have wanted you to plant it. He loved the garden, especially the rosebushes.” Matthew had spent many hours helping Grandpa in the garden.
Grandma was silent. Matthew thought she was angry with him. He wished he hadn’t said anything.
“You’re right, Matthew. Grandpa would have wanted that rosebush planted in the garden. I’ve never planted a rosebush before, though.”
“I’ll help you, Grandma,” Matthew offered. “I helped Grandpa lots of times.”
Grandma changed into old clothes while Matthew went to the garage to get a shovel.
Soon the two of them had a big hole dug in one corner of the garden. It was hard work. By the time the rosebush was in place, they were panting. The afternoon sun was almost behind the hills.
Grandma stood for a moment and looked at the rosebush. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes sparkled. “Is it all right, Matthew?”
“Yes, Grandma. It’s fine. It’s where Grandpa would have wanted it.”
Matthew put the shovel away. When he went inside, Grandma was in the kitchen. “I’d better go home, Grandma. Mom will be worried.”
“It’s all right. I called her. She knows where you are. Matthew, I want to show you something.” Grandma reached into a kitchen drawer and pulled out a box of seed packets. “These came in the mail last week. I was going to throw them away. I was just thinking … maybe I’ll try to plant them after all. Would you help me? I’ve never been much of a gardener.”
“I sure will, Grandma,” said Matthew. “I’ll stop by tomorrow after school.”
Matthew went out the door and down the sidewalk whistling a happy tune.

“I have had many experiences that have made me realize that the Lord will help you to do the impossible. When you operate like this, you learn that keeping the Spirit is the most important thing.
“One day we had a work crew organized, and we needed 13,000 fathoms of sennett (rope made from coconut husks) to tie the pieces of the roof on the McKay house together. I had received promises from many people that they would supply the rope, but when I went to pick it up, no one had it ready. After driving all over the island, I had collected only about 30 fathoms. I was discouraged, and so I complained to God. In my prayers I said, ‘We are working hard, and yet I can’t get the help I need.’
“I had to stop at the mission home to confirm another appointment, and one of the supervising elders said, ‘Brother Kamauoha, I have some sennett you can use.’
“I thought, ‘How nice,’ but I was sure an elder’s little souvenir roll of sennett wouldn’t really help us. He went into his room and came out with this big roll. He handed it to me and said he had about 13,000 fathoms as he wanted to build a Samoan fale (house) with it when he got home to the U.S.
“You can bet I hurriedly went back to the Lord and retracted my complaining. I was truly sorry for ever being discouraged.”

A sign in the Smiths’ front yard says “Smiths’ Blissful Acres.” Blissful means “happy,” and the Smiths have found that working and playing together make them happy. They live in a house that was once a barn on 10 acres (4 ha) amid brush-covered hills. Here you’ll find a tree house with a rope swing, a pond with canoes, a vegetable garden, a fruit orchard, steers, chickens, and a big dog named Rascal. You’ll also find ten-year-old Daniel, eight-year-old Steven, and six-year-old Alysa Smith. They have four older brothers, an older sister, and lots of cousins. They love being part of a large family.
On Saturday, October 25, 2003, a small fire started 18 miles from the Smiths’ home. But in a few days the wind had turned the small fire into the largest fire in the history of California. By Tuesday, the fire was burning toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres.
“The sky was orange,” Alysa says, “and the sun looked dark red. We wore masks over our noses and mouths because of the smoke and ash in the air.”
Daniel, Steven, and Alysa packed their clothes and stuffed animals. Because it feared the fire, “one of our steers broke the chain on his halter and went under the fence,” Daniel says. “Rascal helped us get the steer back into the corral.”
When the Smiths had to evacuate, they had to leave the steers and chickens behind. “We raise the steers to sell and pay for our missions,” Steven says. “We were scared that everything would burn.”
Before they left, the Smiths knelt in family prayer. “We prayed for the Lord to bless us and our house and animals,” says Daniel, Steven, and Alysa’s dad, Jeff. “We had done all we could do and then left it in Heavenly Father’s hands.”
“We felt better after our prayer,” Steven says. “I felt the Spirit. Mom helped us feel calm, too.”
At 7:30 p.m. the Smiths got into their two cars and a truck to drive the 30 minutes to a friend’s house in the desert. “Rascal wouldn’t get in the car,” Alysa says. “Some of us were crying, and we were scared Rascal would die in the fire.”
The firefighters worked for four days to protect the town of Julian from the fire. One firefighter died. More than 700 houses burned in the hills around Julian, but the town was saved.
Though the roaring fire raced toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres, the firefighters stopped it two miles before it got there. When the Smiths came home on Saturday, they were so happy that the animals and the house were safe. But Rascal was still missing. Five days later, a man from the animal control center called and said Rascal was there.
“When my mom brought Rascal home, we all jumped on him and hugged him,” Daniel says. “We were so happy.”
During the weeks after the fire, Daniel, Steven, and Alysa helped at the disaster center in Julian. As people donated clothing and supplies, and others sorted the donations into boxes, the Smith children carried the boxes up or down the stairs to the assigned areas.
Since the fire, the Smiths are more grateful than ever for their family, home, and the Church. They express gratitude in their family prayers at the beginning and end of every day. After the prayer, the Smiths have a family tradition. They put their feet in the center of the family circle, pile their hands on top of each other’s hands, and say, “We love everybody.” Then they raise their arms and hands over their heads and shout, “We fly high!”—a reminder that with the gospel and each other, they can become better every day.
And Daniel, Steven, and Alysa do “fly high” because working and playing together makes them and their family strong.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The drums are pounding. The runners toe-up at the starting line. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A life-size panda bear with a cartoon face races among the crowd, encouraging cheers: “Fourth Ward! Fourth Ward!”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Children wave long banners bearing Japanese calligraphy back and forth in the warm autumn sun. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Cheerleaders decked out in pink and black wave pom-poms and jump up and down.
The drum beats stop. The crowd is silent. The starter raises his gun. “Yoi!” (Get ready!) “Don!” (Bang!) The sprinters dash from the blocks, muscles unleashed in a furious rush for the tape. The crowd is instantly wild again, hoarse from cheering but cheering just the same. One runner, stronger than the rest, edges in front and beats the others by a stride. Cheers erupt again and the drums are pounding: BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
It is early fall. The location is Sapporo, largest city of Japan’s northernmost island, Hokkaido. The activity is a stake olympics and missionary activity combined. And the eager participants include many young Latter-day Saints, their families, and a lot of non-LDS friends.
Taiku taiki is the phrase they use to describe a sports fest, and the afternoon event, planned during a harvest festival holiday, lives up to the name. There are athletic activities of just about every kind, always punctuated by furious drumbeats and orchestrated cheering.
Stilt racers amble around the track to warm up, while their encouragers jog alongside, counting cadence: “Ichi, ni, ichi, ni” (one, two, one, two). Members of the stake presidency race down the middle of the stadium, pushing old tires with sticks. In some races, the contestants run backwards or are given a card with the name of a stake official they have to find and bring back to the announcer’s table. Another contest tries to see how many people can stand as a group on a six-by-eight-foot board.
There’s a six-kilometer (three and three-fourths mile) race, a tug-o’-war, a conventional relay race, a Primary children’s race, a contest to see who can stuff the most balloons in a garbage sack, and a variation of a three-legged race using three people with the two central pairs of legs tied together—actually a four-legged race. There’s even an opportunity to become acquainted with American football.
“There were many young people involved in preparing for today,” says Minoru Setoda, 17, of the Iwamizawa Branch, Japan Sapporo Stake. “Different responsibilities were handed out according to ward and branch, like being in charge of timing the events, for example.” Minoru should know. He’s the physical activities specialist for his branch.
Koji Taira, 17, one of Minoru’s friends, is not a member of the Church. Like many other nonmembers, he came today because he was invited and it sounded like fun. “I haven’t seen too many activities as friendly and open as this one,” he says. He has spoken with the missionaries before—he met them one day when he was walking downtown. “I still have a lot of questions about the gospel,” he says. “But they are willing to teach me and that is a great help to me.”
After an hour or two of good, hard physical effort, it’s time to break for lunch. Families and friends cluster around hibachi, small charcoal grills. Soon prawns, shrimp, and chicken are roasting on the coals. Everyone enjoys the onigiri (rice balls), the fruit juice, and the sunshine of the warm, bright day.
In Hokkaido’s freshwater streams salmon spawn. In her rolling, forested hills and steep mountains, brown bears claw tree bark and wade in rivers. In the winter, a snow festival gathers competitors from around the world to carve ice sculptures. Monumental ski jumps and skating rinks mark the sites where 1968’s Olympic gold medals were won or lost. Steep canyons and bare rock walls remind a visitor of Yellowstone Park. So do forest ranger’s hats. But wherever you wander in Hokkaido, or anywhere in Japan for that matter, one thing is common everywhere: water—cool, clear, and clean.
“My name means ‘pure water,’” explains Toshiko Shimizu, 16, of the Shiroishi Ward. Her friend Yukiko Endo, 18, of the same ward, says she loves living in a land with so many streams. “More than the fact that water is pretty,” she says, “is that there is an abundant amount. In some other countries, I understand that you must purchase water. But here, if you turn on the faucet, fresh water flows out.” That, she says, is a blessing from Heavenly Father.
There are other blessings from Heavenly Father in this land, too. The most precious of them all is the gospel of Jesus Christ, which is finally gaining acceptance, especially among the young. Many of the youth of Hokkaido are recent converts. Many are the only members in their families. Some have grown up in the Church. But they all share a common love for the truth and an earnest desire to follow the Lord’s way.
“The Church helps me in my everyday life,” Toshiko says. “It helps me to learn to do good deeds, to be compassionate, to value my family more. When I come home from sacrament meeting I feel refreshed.”
“When I was little, I went to Church because both of my parents were going,” says Akio Katanuma, 17, of the Sapporo 2nd Ward. “But as I grew, having attended various Church conferences, including the temple dedication in Tokyo, I have come to understand more about the Church. I know it is true. I know it with all my heart.”
Katsumi Nakahara of the Iwamizawa Branch has been a member for a little more than a year. He met the missionaries when they were proselyting on the street. “I did not think it was strange,” he says. “But they were foreigners. So I thought I would go and visit the church. I received a brief lesson. But during that lesson I felt the Holy Ghost. Since then it has been a process of following the Spirit from one step to the next.”
“I’ve been in the Church ten months,” says 16-year-old Mumi Okamura of the Shiroishi Ward. “The ward sponsored an English conversation class. While I was there, I talked with one of the teachers about the Church. The more we talked, the more interested I became. Now my whole life is centered around the Church. On holidays and weekends, I’m usually at some sort of Church activity.”
All of these young Saints possess a common desire to share their testimonies with others. They know how they can help the truth to spread, how they can help their friends and neighbors to find the joy of the restored gospel. Many of the young people in Japan have heard of Christ, but many still have much to learn.
“My friends see me with the missionaries quite often, so they know I go to church,” Katsumi says. “But sometimes it’s hard to approach them about it directly. That’s why I like to bring friends to activities like this one today. It’s a way to get them to know many people, to feel comfortable before you talk about difficult doctrines.”
Maya Tanaka, 13, has been a Church member about a year. She first met the sister missionaries at a bus depot. “I’m the only member in my family,” she says. “But they all support me. I know that the best place to share the gospel is in my own home. But traditions are hard to change. Still, the Church teaches us to love our families, and the Japanese have always believed that.”
Masahiro Suzuki, 18, of the Sapporo 2nd Ward, is excited because right now his family is listening to the missionary discussions. He’s also excited because his family has agreed to allow him to go on a full-time mission, especially since he plans to pay his own way. “Elder Mark E. Petersen (of the Council of the Twelve) visited here, and I told him I would earn money for my mission,” Masahiro says. Working part-time as a jackhammer operator while he attends drafting school, Masahiro has managed to put aside sufficient funds for his entire mission. “Be sure to let Elder Petersen know!” he says, with a wide grin.
Seiji Katanuma, president of the Japan Sapporo Stake, also grins as he looks out over the crowd eating lunch. “Remember,” he says, “that in Japan the young face many challenges. Many parents are divorced, many families oppose Church membership. But our young people hold on in spite of it. They’re strong because they have to be.”
Soon the meal is over, and the lounging in the sun is through. It’s been a full day and most folks are eager to head home. But some of the teenagers have a different idea. They’re headed for downtown Sapporo.
Sapporo’s streets are wide but noisy. Motorcycles, a popular form of transportation and recreation, whine between the buildings. The city hall, made of orange brick and patterned after Renaissance architecture of Europe, seems strangely out of place. On the main town square, an Eiffel Tower-ish structure peeks over the highrises nearby.
Near the tower, a fountain sprays upward, misting the air. This is the meeting spot. As the LDS teens gather, some decide it’s time for a snack. They walk over to what looks like a popcorn wagon or lemonade truck. They come back with, not popcorn or pink lemonade, but corn on the cob, a local delicacy. And they eat it with delight.
It might seem like these young people have had enough Church activity for one day, so they’ve decided to come to town for a lark. You soon see that’s not true, however, when the full-time missionaries arrive. Even after a full day of sports events to which nonmembers were invited, the youth of the stake have volunteered to go tracting and street contacting with the elders and sisters.
“I don’t know a lot about full-time missions,” says Hiromi Tsuchiya, 16, a sister from the Iwamizawa Branch. “But I think this is a good way to find out about them. I don’t want to get in the way tonight. But I am sure this will be a great help if I become a full-time missionary, because I’ll know a little bit about what to expect.”
Her friend Yumi Kitayama, 15, from the Teine Branch, says if she had more courage working with the missionaries would be easier. “It’s hard to talk to people I don’t know at all,” she said. “This helps me see what missionaries go through all day long. If I get scared, I just think of the Young Women program and all the fun we have. I know other people would like to share in that if they only knew.”
Yoshio Suzuki, 17, of the Otaru Ward, Japan Sapporo West Stake, says he understands that street contacting is important, and he’s glad to help. But, he adds, there’s an even better way to share the gospel. “By bringing my friends to church, to activities like we had today, to regular meetings, to missionary discussions, I make the missionary’s job easier. I too want to go on a full-time mission. I hope when I do there will be members willing to come out and work with me.”
The sun’s glow has faded from golden to black. Lamps now light the gardens on Sapporo’s main square. The corn-on-the-cob vendor has closed up for the night and is wheeling her cart away.
A few of the young Latter-day Saints have headed home, too. But not one group. They’re busy explaining a brochure to a businessman. He’s interested in their message. Yes, he’d like the missionaries to come tell him more. An appointment is made. The man leaves with a smile and a handshake.
The Saints in Sapporo hope he will learn more. More and more and more.

“Breathe deeply and exhale slowly,” his mother had said on their way to church. That’s what he did now. Then he breathed in again and tried letting the air out in short spurts.
“Why am I so scared? I’m not. I can’t be. I’ve got to control myself.”
He fingered his Book of Mormon and then pulled out the worn paper. He unfolded it carefully because the creases looked ready to tear.
“Brothers and sisters, I’m happy to have this opportunity to speak” wasn’t a very original way to begin. He folded the talk, stuck it in his pocket, then took it out of his pocket and put it back into the front of his Book of Mormon.
He took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands. Why wouldn’t they stop trembling? He just had to stop his body from shaking or his voice would shake too.
“Brothers and Sisters, I’m happy to be here today. I’m happy to have this opportunity. When the bishop, my dad, asked me to speak, I …” That sounded Dumb! Why hadn’t he thought of a better introduction?
It had been three years since he had spoken in front of people. Three whole years! Since that time he had always avoided it somehow. But the memory of his last experience had dimmed with time, and he wanted to learn to get up in front of people, so he had said yes. Now the memory of that former talk seemed painfully fresh again. There he was, struggling and stuttering. He could remember that talk even now. But back then, when he’d seen all those faces, the talk he’d memorized had vanished. It had simply evaporated. “But I didn’t have my notes with me that day,” he thought. “That was my downfall. I hadn’t taken my notes because I wanted to look super-intelligent. Besides, Dad never uses any. But now I’ve got notes, so there won’t be any problem.” If there would be no problem, he wondered, why was he so scared?
The announcements were over, his dad sat down a few seats from Jack and cleared his throat. Jack looked at his dad’s profile so much like his own. “But that’s where the similarity ends,” Jack thought. “Dad’s such a powerful speaker.” “His father’s talks were always rich with experiences and stories. “I don’t have one story in this talk,” Jack thought. “Everyone will fall asleep. Well, better if they do.”
His father, sensing Jack’s gaze looked over, smiled and nodded. Jack smiled back, tried to swallow the lump in his throat, and took out his notes again. “If I were more like my father, I wouldn’t be worrying like this.” But then he made a tight fist. “I don’t need to be just like Dad. I don’t need to be outgoing and dynamic. I can be just as good as myself.”
He lowered his head and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. It wouldn’t do to have the wetness fog up his glasses. Then a thought came to Jack that made him shudder. He pushed his toes hard against the soles of his shoes. “What if I cry? What if I break down and cry or something? Cry, out of pure fright. No, I wouldn’t do that. I know I wouldn’t. Brothers and Sisters, I’m happy …” It would just take eight and a half minutes. For eight and a half minutes he could surely control himself. “Maybe my voice will crack a time or two in those eight and a half minutes, but I don’t think I’ll really cry at least I hope. …”
Sister Carlson was leading the sacrament hymn now, and Jack opened the hymn book and thumbed through it for the hymn. He hadn’t heard the page number. When he had finally looked in the index and found “Come, Follow Me,”he joined in on the last verses. But something was wrong with his voice. It wasn’t clear and deep. It was hoarse and timid. “I don’t have a voice. How can I give a talk without a voice?” He cleared his throat, coughed, and then tried to sing again. This time he was relieved to hear his voice clearing up a little.
“The Word of Wisdom is important for us to follow because …” The words to his talk were flowing through his mind now, but not in order. They were all jumbled. He sang a few more words and then breathed deeply in and out again.
After the sacrament Jack saw his father shuffle a few papers, smile over at him, and walk to the podium. “It is time now,” Jack thought. “Dad’s going to introduce the speakers now and I’m first. At least it will be over within eight and a half minutes from now.”
His father’s rich, bass voice echoed through the chapel. Dynamic, a powerful speaker. The congregation was staring up at the podium. In a moment he, Jack Miller, would be up there with everyone staring at him, expecting so much. There was a thickness in his chest and a slight pain. A heart attack. Maybe he would have a heart attack.
“I can’t get up there! I can’t do it! I don’t even think my legs will hold me when I stand up. I think I’m going to be very sick any minute. I’ve got to tell Dad I can’t. I … no, I’ve got to do it. I’ve just got to.” It didn’t make any sense. Where was his great self image? This morning in front of the mirror, he’d read his talk without a single error. He’d even used his hands, and he’d been in perfect control.
“We have a little problem tonight, Brothers and Sisters,” his father was saying. “It seems we were unwise in calling as our main speakers Brother and Sister Emery. We hope our asking them to speak didn’t start Sister Emery’s labor, but whatever the cause, a little spirit seems very anxious to join our ward family. I just received a note that the Emerys are at the hospital right now.” Everyone chuckled. Everyone except Jack. “Therefore,” his father turned and smiled at him. “We’ll tell our youth speaker, my son Jack, that he can have all the time he wants. I’m sure he’s happy about that.” The congregation chuckled again as Jack felt the heat rushing to his head. He had been so concerned about his own talk that he hadn’t even noticed that the Emerys were missing. “There goes the eight and an half minutes,” he thought.
“Then maybe we’ll ask a few members of the ward here tonight to say a few words,” his dad continued. “But before my son speaks, I’d like to say a few words about something I’ve been thinking about quite a bit lately—the priesthood.” His father confidently placed the one hand on the pulpit and put the other in his pocket.
Jack put his head in his hands. Oh no, this couldn’t be. He’d have to follow his dad. This was even worse than he’d thought. “Now I know I can’t do it,” he cried to himself. But what was his father saying?
“In our family we have someone who has used his power of the priesthood and magnified it. But that is not remarkable because even when he was small he believed in the power of the priesthood.” The warmth rushed to Jack’s head again as he realized his father was talking about him. “I have a special story about Jack that’s important to our family, and I’d like to share it with you. It’s special because …”
Jack looked up to see why his dad was pausing so long. He saw that his dad had taken his hand out of his pocket and was grasping the podium.
“It’s special because …”
“Not that story, Dad. Please. You can’t ever get through it.” Jack was writhing in his seat now, but not for himself. He knew the story well. His dad had blessed him after the automobile accident, and it had saved his life. But his dad had never tried telling it in public. Why now?
“My boy was only three, but he asked for a blessing …” Bishop Miller’s voice was coming out in spurts and his fingers were turning white. This time the pause was longer. “You’ll … you’ll have to excuse me. I shouldn’t try to tell this story. I …” Two more times he began the story, but emotion overcame him. Two more times he stopped, each time pausing longer than before. “I’m sorry … I … The doctors had said …” His father stood at the podium silently now, unable to control his voice. Jack sat behind him on the edge of his seat, grasping the arm rests. He had only one thought: “I’ve got to help Dad.”
As if all emotion had transferred itself, Jack felt curiously calm as he stood up straight and walked the few steps to the pulpit. There he put his arm around his father. “Bishop, I mean, Dad, let me finish the story for you.” His father turned to him in surprise, the tears still trickling from underneath his glasses. Then he nodded with relief and sat down.
It was strange how courageous he felt as he told the story that was so important to their family. Some of the members of the congregation wiped at their eyes at its finish. But, now, it was Jack’s turn to pause. What would he say now? Speaking on the Word of Wisdom just didn’t seem appropriate anymore. He opened his Book of Mormon to his notes and stared at them. Then he looked above them to a scripture he’d underlined on that page of his Book of Mormon. “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents.” (1 Ne. 1:1.) Immediately he read the scripture aloud for he knew now what he would talk about. He looked down into their faces. There was Sister Jackson, the Wade family, and good old Brother Price, their home teacher. There were the Smiths and the Jacksons, and there was his own family, with his mother smiling at him. He became excited to tell them all. He wanted to tell them his feelings.
“Sometimes, to tell you the truth, I’ve been a bit rebellious about having a father who is bishop,” Jack said. “Everyone expects so much. But now I, Jack Miller, having been born of goodly parents, would like to tell you what it means to have a dad like mine who honors his priesthood and loves others.” He looked back at his father who was smiling widely. “This is my chance to get revenge for all the stories he’s told about me and others in his talks.” The congregation laughed, and Jack heard his father’s deep chuckle behind him.
He confidently placed one hand on the podium and the other in his pocket as he continued. His voice echoed through the microphone with a mellow, subtle power. The Spirit warmed within him and he, Jack Miller, became a speaker.

Years ago, when I was serving as stake president in Frankfurt, Germany, a dear but unhappy sister approached me at the end of one of our stake meetings.
“Isn’t it terrible?” she said. “There must have been four or five people sound asleep during your talk!”
I thought for a moment and answered, “I am pretty sure that church sleep is among the healthiest of all sleeps.”
My wonderful wife, Harriet, overheard this casual exchange and later mentioned that it was one of the nicest answers I had ever given.

In a curious parallel 300 years later, Nancy Towle, a famous itinerant preacher in the 1830s, visited Kirtland to personally observe the “Mormons.” In conversing with Joseph Smith and other Church leaders, she sharply criticized the Church.
According to Towle’s record, Joseph said nothing until she turned to him and demanded that he swear that an angel had shown him where to find the golden plates. He good-naturedly replied that he never swore at all! Failing to rattle him, she tried to belittle him. “Are you not ashamed, of such pretensions?” she asked. “You, who are no more than any ignorant plough-boy of our land!”
Joseph calmly responded, “The gift, has returned back again, as in former times, to illiterate fishermen.”11

The people who live in the house are Don and Clara Goudy and their seven children—four boys and three girls.
Until recently the Goudys had lived in the East Millcreek 14th Ward of the Salt Lake Mt. Olympus Stake. And as one neighbor, Doris Peterson, said: “They fit right in, and felt at home, and were very loved.”
The people in the ward describe Clara as one of the “bravest, strongest women, we know.” “She has been so diligent in spiritual things.” “A fantastic person.” “We all loved her.”
They remember Don when he first came into the ward. He was a “vital young man, a hard and willing worker.”
Then the ravages of disease began to take their toll on Don and, suddenly, Don and Clara had some hard things to face and some difficult decisions to make.
Don could no longer work hard to provide for those he loved. He became progressively worse, and at length he couldn’t work at all. Don and Clara decided to take their family back to Santaquin where they had been raised. There Clara’s mother had a piece of land on which a home could be built. It seemed the right place to assume the heavier load that was coming to her. And she could be near her 78-year-old mother.
In the hearts of far-sighted Aaronic Priesthood MIA leaders and a wise bishop was the knowledge that in service young people grow. Ideas for service were constantly being discussed. Young men and women were continually involved in the discussions.
Then three young men—candidates for the Eagle Scout Progress Award—had an idea. Could they take a lawn down to the Goudy’s new home? They knew Brother Goudy couldn’t put it in, and maybe Sister Goudy could use their help.
John Benson, the Aaronic Priesthood MIA young men’s president, encouraged the boys.
When first approached, Clara was a little reluctant. She and Don had always taken care of themselves and their own. What they had, they had shared. It had been enough.
But now the prospects for immediate landscaping were slim. Clara thought about that, but mostly she thought about the teachings of the gospel. “Yes,” she thought, “this is the gospel at work.” And then she told them they could come.
So Brother Benson and the three boys, Ted Bullen, Robert Purcell, and Gary Buehner, went down to Santaquin to see their friends, to plan out a yard, and to see what the project would cost.
It was decided that Gary would take care of fencing the property. Ted would see that the lawn was planted, and Robert volunteered to do the shrubbery, trees, and planting of flowers.
They measured the yard. They also had Sister Goudy’s desires in mind. Next they each went to experts to get some first-class help in planning the landscaping.
With the plans completed they proceeded to line up help and materials. Each boy organized his own project and work crew. As they worked the enthusiasm and support mounted.
Others in the ward wanted to help. They donated funds. They dug up shrubs and trees, taking them from their own yards. They went to the state capitol and were given some flats of flowers that were surplus.
As the project grew Bishop Lewis Farr counseled his people to work with the young people on this project as fathers and mothers would work with their own sons and daughters, assisting not only with money but also with physical labor on the planting day.
As Bob Purcell put it: “We had made our plans in detail, and it didn’t take too long when we got down there.”
Most of the materials and hand tools came with them from Salt Lake City, but several yards of top soil were needed. Contact was made with the bishop of the Santaquin Ward, and he saw to it that the top soil was delivered the night before. The Santaquin people also provided a tractor.
Brother Benson and the three boys went down early on the day of the project. He had grown up on a farm and knew how to handle the tractor. So with the boys directing, he spread the top soil, and by 7:30 A.M. they were ready for the work group. Between 50 and 60 people—youths and their parents and leaders—came down to help. A little later in the morning five or six people from the Santaquin Ward brought over their power tools and joined in.
Under Bob’s direction they dug holes and planted the shrubs and the trees. They planted the flowers, and the girls built a little stone path through the grass and edged the flower planting area with rocks Clara had been saving.
Gary and his crew dug post holes and cemented the poles in place for the chain link fence. They also prepared the framework, put up the cedar fence, and stained it.
At the same time Ted and his crews were rolling and planting the lawn, others were covering it with peat moss and wetting it down.
Then suddenly they were through. They had finished everything on their blueprints, and there was an entire yard growing.
As Alice Buehner, Aaronic Priesthood MIA young woman’s president, reported: “Not a whole day and it was accomplished. We just stood around and gazed at it.”
Then Don Goudy, who is now almost bedfast, came out of the house and walked out onto the porch. It was a tender moment as he looked around at what his friends had done for him. He said simply, “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
As Sister Buehner said: “It made me want to cry. I was really deeply moved.”
In addition to helping with the yard, the Wayne Ottleys who live in the ward went into the house and draped it.
Brother Benson summed it up this way: “By 3:00 there was a new yard. It was really an enjoyable day. And very exciting.”
Because of the spirit that was there that day, young and old felt a new commitment to service, and the spirit was catching. Since then the Santaquin Ward itself has turned out to put in lawns for two other families in need within their little town.
On the way back to Salt Lake City the workers stopped for a swim, but nobody seems to recall that. When you ask the young people about the experience, this is what they say:
Susan Horman: “When we left it looked really special. Flowers everywhere and trees … it was a good feeling.”
Steve Farr: “At first I didn’t think it would be so neat to just waste a day down there, but when we finally finished, it was really neat. It sure looked good.”
Karen Horman: “It was fun. I would gladly do another project like that. They were really happy we came, and they were really sorry when we had to leave.”
Sister Buehner evaluates: “Our young people felt very responsible. It was a real growing experience.”
The three boys who planned the whole project and directed its execution were most explicit.
Gary summed it all up this way: “It turned out pretty fun. I’d probably do it again. We knew that they needed the help.”
Ted declared: “The Goudys are some of my best friends. I’ve talked to them several times since. They said how great it was and how thankful they were. It was a testimony builder to work on something like that. It wasn’t just completing an Eagle project, but it was helping someone and feeling good about that.”
Bob reported: “I enjoyed it. I enjoy helping others. I guess that’s what it’s all about really, both Scouts and the Church. It was worth it. I know that much.”
“This was a spiritual experience for our young people,” Brother Benson declared. “In my estimation the only types of experiences that don’t get old are spiritual experiences. Our young people tasted of that at the Goudys, and they are anxious to have that renewed.”
But for the young people Bob summed it up best: “I’m just glad that we did it.”

A few years after my wife and I returned home from our mission, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) asked us to meet with him. During that meeting, he extended a call to me to serve as a General Authority. He reflected on my experiences as a young missionary and as a mission president and told us that although there were many people who were qualified to be General Authorities, the Lord would use me because of my previous experiences and decisions.

Since President Thomas S. Monson announced the change in the missionary age, young people have been asked to counsel with their parents, counsel with their bishops, and counsel with the Lord through prayer. When you know it is the right time to go, then you should go. As you have patience and exercise faith, I know that the Lord will make His will known unto you.

I testify that as you are obedient to the will of the Lord, you will be blessed beyond measure.

Interesting things happen in Australia when the chapel recreation hall is transformed into a “five-star” restaurant. The youth of the Frankston Ward, Melbourne Australia Moorabbin Stake, serve dinner to the “old fogies” 18 years and over.
Organized by a special youth committee, this is the second year that the young people have put on the dinner complete with entertainment, printed menus, reserved tables, and valet parking. Dressed neatly in white shirts and black trousers or skirts with red bow ties and cummerbunds, the young men and women acted as waiters while others put on a floor show and musical numbers. The young men performed the popular Waiters’ Gallop, a musical serving of dessert which ended in a shaving-cream pie fight.
Four young men known as the Waitershop Quartet also sang their way through a number of old-time songs, much to the delight of their audience.
The evening was used as a missionary tool for reaching out to inactives and nonmember friends who were either entertained or took part in the performance. As a result the youth of the Frankston Ward have become strengthened in their unity and have the confidence and experience of staging a successful night of fun and food.

Often this is the way faith works. I was assigned, for example, to escort Elder and Sister Bateman and Elder and Sister Steadman to their missionary assignments as English teachers in Hanoi, Vietnam. We planned and organized, but we had more questions than answers. After completing our planned agenda, we still had one full day unplanned. More remained to be done, but what and where?
That morning we decided to act by faith by walking out our doors. Events swept us through an amazing day of welcoming ceremonies at the Hanoi Children’s Palace, dinner in our honor with Operation Smile Vietnam, and other activities planned by our hosts. Our hosts had been too busy to communicate their plans to us, but the Lord knew them and moved us into place like pawns on a chessboard.

In the hallways at the Finnish high school, students rushed from one class to another, their chatter and laughter filling the air.
But here in the recital room, with its gilded trim and arching windows, the noise was distant and muffled. Here, where fifteen-year-old Säde (pronounced saw-day) Metsätähti was about to play the piano, there was peace.
Säde could have played many things—classical or popular. But right now, she had time to play and sing only one song. And so she played her favorite. The tune was simple, but memorable. Saria Karhunen, sixteen, joined Säde on the chorus. They’ve been friends since they were children, and somehow that friendship showed as the harmony of their voices built power in the song.
The girls finished. “Singing that,” Saria said, “is like singing a prayer.” Säde nodded her agreement.
In English the song, written by Latter-day Saints, is titled “Look Inside.” But the Finnish version, translated by Säde’s mother, Virpi, expresses the idea even more strongly. “Sydämees kun katsot, ”it says, “When You Look to Your Heart.”
“I know other people wrote the words and music,” said Säde. “But every time I play it, I feel like it’s my song. I think everybody—everything—has a song of its own, if you just listen close enough to hear it.”
The second bell rang, and that meant the brief performance was over. Säde and Saria are on a strict schedule at the Puolalanmaen Koulu, a school for students with musical aptitude. In addition to music, Säde has classes in Swedish, math, Finnish, gymnastics, English, biology, geography, and French.
She and Saria also study seminary every day and meet once a week with the other seminary students in their ward.
That evening was activity night at the chapel, and seminary students, institute students, Scouts, family history workers, and other ward members had gathered for various purposes—but all as brothers and sisters.
“How can you get closer to Jesus Christ?” asked Auli Haikkola, the seminary teacher.
“Study the scriptures,” said Aki Keskinen.
“Pray,” said Todd Katschke. “Go to church.”
“Talk about the Savior with your family,” said Jukka Merenluoto.
“Do good for someone else,” said Joni Mikkonen.
After class, several of the seminary students lingered to visit. They talked about how seminary helps prepare young people for missions, about getting up early to study the scriptures, about prayer and families and priesthood and the Spirit and a dozen other things youth all over the Church have in common.
“Most people in Finland don’t talk about religion,” Maria Sokoli said. “They go to church once or twice a year. They don’t understand how it can be such a big part of my life.”
“My nonmember friends respect me,” said Heidi Hankiala. “But it still gets tough when they all drink and do other things I won’t do.”
“Maria, Heidi, Saria, and I all grew up in the Church,” Säde explained. “Most of the people in this ward have grown up with the gospel. But now the Church is growing fast, and I see the day when it will grow faster and faster, when there will be lots of young people joining, not only in Finland, but in Russia, in Eastern Europe—all over the world. The Church is the hope of the future, and the youth are the hope of the Church.”
Too soon, the conversations were over. The youth said good-bye and departed. The seminary room was deserted, and the building was almost empty.
That was when the song began again.
Waiting for her mother, Säde had found a piano. Not an elegant one like the black enamel grand piano in the recital room at school. This was a brown upright, with a key or two chipped and a scratch in the finish. But the melody she played was the same: “When You Look to Your Heart.”
The song of faith continued.

Allie carefully placed the jars of freshly canned pears in the canning cupboard. All summer she’d helped Mom can fruits and vegetables. Only the shelf for peaches remained empty, but it would probably stay that way because they didn’t have any peach trees and money was too tight to buy any peaches. Closing the cupboard, Allie raced up the basement steps. She still had time to go over to Kim’s to help get the horses ready for the horse show tomorrow. Kim had promised to let her ride in the rescue race.
Mom was talking on the phone when Allie reached the kitchen. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” her mom was saying.
“Where are you going?” Allie asked the minute her mom hung up.
“Aunt Trudy is in the hospital, and Uncle Eric wants me to come right away. Will you run up to the attic and bring down the brown suitcase while I call your father? Please hurry—I have a dozen things to do before I leave.”
The next hour flew by in a flurry of packing and last-minute decisions. When Dad arrived with Allie’s brother, Rod, they sat down to a hurried meal.
“Who’s going to take care of things here while you’re gone?” Rod asked when he heard the news.
“Allie can manage the housework and cooking,” Mom answered.
Allie dropped her fork. “Does that mean that I can’t go to the horse show with Kim tomorrow? Kim promised that I could ride Socks in the rescue race.”
Rod rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Are horses the only thing that you ever think about?”
“That will do,” Dad said sternly as he pushed back his chair. “I’m going to drive your mother over to Randell. I’ll be back around eleven.”
Mom gave Allie a quick hug. “I’m depending on you to take care of things while I’m gone. You may go with Kim tomorrow if you finish your chores first.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Allie watched her parents drive away, then dashed out of the house, past the empty stables, and across the back pasture to Kim’s house to help her get ready for the next day.
The next morning Allie leaped out of bed and fixed breakfast.
“Dad, will you drop me off at Pringles on your way to the mill?” Rod asked as he ate the last slice of toast. “I finished at the Kellys’ yesterday, and Mr. Pringle hired me to mend his pasture fences.”
“Sure,” his father said, reaching for his hat. “They’re talking about closing the mill again this winter, so every extra job you can get will help out here. Let’s go.”
Allie rushed through her housework, then dashed upstairs to change clothes before Kim came. She had just finished fixing her hair when she heard a truck pull into the yard. She was out the back door before she realized that it wasn’t Kim.
“Morning, Allie,” Mr. Kelly called. “Rod said that you folks could use some peaches. We had a good crop this year, so I brought you some.” He lifted two large boxes from the truck and stacked them on the porch. “Tell your mother that she’d better can them today, or they’ll be too ripe.”
A mouth-watering smell rose from the boxes. What a waste! Too bad Mom isn’t here to can them, Allie thought. Then she remembered what her father had said a few days earlier: “If the mill closes again this winter, we’ll need all that Mom has canned and more.”
When Kim arrived a short time later, Allie had changed back into her old clothes and was washing jars.
“Aren’t you ready yet?” Kim asked.
“I’m not going.” Allie shook the soapy water from her hands. “I tried to call you.”
“Not going! Why not?” Kim demanded. “You can’t miss this competition. Diane Pringle is going to be there with Shalazod. It’s the last time we’ll see her gorgeous horse before she goes away to college. And what about the rescue race? I thought that you were dying to be in it.”
“I’m sorry,” Allie said, motioning toward the back porch. “Mr. Kelly brought us some ripe peaches. I can’t go off and let them spoil.”
Three quick blasts on a horn put an end to the discussion. “Mom’s getting impatient. See you later,” Kim called as she ran down the steps.
Allie rushed to the back porch. She wanted to yell to Kim to wait for her. But she caught her lower lip between her teeth and turned back to the kitchen. As she got out the canning equipment, she tried not to think about the horses and all the fun that she was going to miss.
It was past noon when Allie finished the first box of peaches. She was hot and tired. Peach fuzz made her arms itch, and the floor and stove were sticky with juice.
“Mom always makes it look easy,” she grumbled as she started on the second box of peaches.
Allie was lifting the last rack of jars from the canner when her father and brother came home from work.
“What’s all this?” her father asked. “I thought that you were going to the horse show with Kim today.”
Allie added the hot jars to the ones already covering the counters. “I was, but Mr. Kelly brought us two boxes of peaches this morning, and they needed to be canned before they spoiled.” She looked at the cluttered kitchen. “Sorry—I haven’t had time to start dinner yet.”
“I think that we can make do with soup and sandwiches,” Dad said. “Rod, give Allie a hand while I make a phone call.”
When dinner was over, Allie was almost too tired to move, but she felt a surge of pride when she looked at the rows of bottled peaches.
“How about taking a walk with me,” her father said.
“Right now?” Allie didn’t want to get out of her chair.
“If you’re too tired, I guess I’ll just have to pick out the best stall for Shalazod by myself.”
“Shalazod?”
Dad nodded. “Mr. Pringle asked me today if we could board him while Diane is away at college. Diane likes the way that you handle horses. At first I had decided to say no because I figured that you’d spend all of your time with the horse and neglect everything else. But after what you did today, I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh, Dad!” Allie threw her arms around his neck. “It’s a dream come true! It’s almost as good as having a horse of my own.”
“Come on, let’s go pick out his stall. Shalazod will be here the day after tomorrow.”
Allie didn’t feel tired at all as she raced her dad to the stables.

When I was young, my family was not active in the Church. My parents were good people, and they taught my brothers and me to make good choices. We always knew they loved us and wanted us to be happy.
In my home, my parents expected us to obey. Every Saturday was “work day.” Dad was a doctor, so he got up very early to go check on his patients. Before he left, he wrote a list of chores on our big chalkboard. Every week we tried to do the chores as fast as we could. But somehow the chores always lasted the whole day!
It wasn’t terrible, though. We liked spending time together. Mom made us lunch, and Dad came home to eat with us. We all took a break and sat outside together. We were happy when we obeyed.

Before I joined the Church, my life was full of unhappiness. Following my parents’ divorce when I was seven years old, my father went to prison. My mother was an alcoholic and lost everything that was important to her. I was sent to live with a foster family.
Because of these things, I grew up a lot faster than many of my peers. I never quite felt that I could find my place, and consequently I was constantly in a state of rebellion. When I was still very young, I began smoking and doing other things that I now understand are contrary to the Word of Wisdom. I was certain I was doomed to fail in life.
The one thing I did find happiness in was helping people—whether it was cleaning alongside them or listening to their life stories. I desperately wanted people to know they could depend on me. One year I went on vacation and met an elderly woman I decided to serve by listening to her. She was a Christian and started to talk to me about religion.
I had never really believed in God. At times, when I had thought that maybe He existed, I blamed Him for the troubling things I had experienced. But as this woman described the importance of faith in God, I found myself intrigued. Before I left, she said something that was particularly interesting: “The Mormons follow God’s commandments.”
I had never heard of the Mormons, so I went home, got online, and searched. I arrived at Mormon.org and ordered a free copy of the Book of Mormon. Missionaries delivered it a few days later.
I wasn’t sure I could start to believe in God, but the missionaries helped me discover that I could not only believe in Him but also know Him. As I began to pray and study the Book of Mormon, I found myself on a beautiful journey of finding happiness. I quit smoking. I stopped blaming God and started thanking Him for the good things in my life. I came to know that His Son had suffered for my sins and for all the pain I had ever felt. On October 28, 2007, I was baptized into His Church.
If I hadn’t personally experienced the change from disillusionment to happiness, I wouldn’t believe it is possible. Today I love my calling in Primary and am grateful to have had the opportunity to help organize a service project at a young single adult conference in Poland. To be able to regularly help others through Church service has added to the happiness I have found in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Everything I do now, I do with pure love because of Jesus Christ. I believe that life is beautiful and that even when we have challenges, if we follow the Savior, we won’t be lost.
The woman I met was right: having faith in God is crucial. We cannot find our place in this world if we don’t know Him. I am grateful to finally have a place where I know I belong.

Utilizing this principle greatly blessed our family. In 2006, the United States was experiencing a strong economy, especially in real estate investing. We had successfully made some smaller investments before being given the opportunity to invest in a large business opportunity. It appeared to be without risk, but it would require that we go into debt by mortgaging our home.

As the father in the home, I knew it was my duty to provide for my family. I prayed and felt that I should be willing to use what the Lord had given me to profitably sustain us. I also consulted the scriptures and found that honest business investing was encouraged and acceptable to the Lord. As I moved forward in my decision, however, I pondered what the living prophets had warned about going into debt, particularly to invest in business speculation.

We decided to apply the “checks and balances” principle to my decision, and even though scriptural truths supported my personal revelation, the teachings of the living prophets did not. We decided not to invest. The following year, the housing market crashed, and a very long recession began. Had we borrowed the money, we may have lost not only our money but our home also.

After some time, my family moved from Maryland to Utah, where we lived on a farm in North Logan. We had some horses, some cows, some pigs, some chickens, two dogs, a few cats, and we even had a pet pig. Though it became necessary to sell the cows, my father kept one milk cow.
Each morning before school, I helped my older brother, Lou, milk the family cow. One morning, my brother was sick and I had to milk the cow alone. I was just eight years old at the time. I took the bucket and stool and went into the field. This was the first time I had ever had to milk the cow by myself. I set up my stool and bucket and started to milk. She kicked the bucket and walked away.
I picked up the bucket and stool, walked over to her, and again started to milk. Again, she kicked the bucket and walked away. I had to milk the cow before I went to school, so I picked up my stool and bucket and walked over to her and started to milk. A third time, she kicked the bucket and walked away.
I needed help! I knelt down in the morning sunlight and began to pray. I explained to Heavenly Father, “I can’t do this by myself. Please, please help me!” Without any hesitation, I picked up the bucket and my stool and walked over to the cow and began to milk. She did not move. She stood still until I finished milking. I quickly carried the bucket to the house, gave it to my mother, and was able to run to school and arrive on time, knowing that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.

Before leaving Australia for India, I was blessed to participate in the sealing of my father’s family members in the Melbourne Australia temple. Although I did not know my grandmother very well, this made me feel closer to her. And now that I am here, I am coming to understand my father better. I see his friendliness and hospitality in the Indians I meet every day and have come to know that it is part of the culture.

Everyone has imperfections, and sometimes these shortcomings become more apparent in marriage. When Ken Nollsch of Highlands Ranch, Colorado, married his wife, Chalyce, he was continuing to overcome his long-held fears of being an inadequate spouse. As he has learned to share his burdens with the Lord, his fears have diminished.
Brother Nollsch wants to be fully committed, he says, “to putting her needs ahead of mine,” explaining, “I worry about how I spend my time and about staying away from selfish activities.” When Brother Nollsch gets overwhelmed by his fears, he reminds himself to emulate the example of the Savior, who said humbly to Heavenly Father, “Thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). “I say that over and over in my mind, and then I move on to what I need to accomplish,” Brother Nollsch says.
Brother Nollsch says his confidence in himself and in his wife has grown over time. He also focuses on the joy he finds in being a husband and father. “God wants us to be happy, and being a husband and father is one of the best ways to find happiness,” he says.

The desire to help another, the quest for the lost sheep, may not always yield success at once. On occasion, progress is slow—even indiscernible. Such was the experience of my longtime friend, Gill Warner. He was a newly called bishop when Douglas, a member of his ward serving in the mission field, transgressed and was deprived of his Church membership. Father was saddened; Mother was totally devastated. Douglas soon thereafter moved from the state. The years hurried by, but Bishop Warner, now a member of a high council, never ceased to wonder what had become of Douglas.
In 1975 I attended the stake conference of Brother Warner’s stake and held a priesthood leadership meeting early on Sunday morning. I spoke of the Church discipline system and the need to labor earnestly and lovingly to rescue any who had strayed. Gill Warner raised his hand and outlined the story of Douglas. He concluded by posing a question to me: “Do I have any responsibility to work with Douglas to help bring him back to Church membership?”
Gill reminded me later that my response to his question was direct and given without hesitation. I said, “As his former bishop and one who knew and loved him, I would think you would wish to do all you could to bring him back.”
Unbeknownst to Gill Warner, Douglas’s mother had, the previous week, fasted and prayed that a man would be raised up to help save her son. Gill discovered this when, following the meeting, he felt prompted to call her to report his determination to be of help.
Gill began his odyssey of redemption. Douglas was contacted by him. Old times, happy times, were remembered. Testimony was expressed, love was conveyed, and confidence instilled. The pace was excruciatingly slow. Discouragement frequently entered the scene; but step-by-step Douglas made headway. At long last prayers were answered, efforts rewarded, and victory attained. Douglas was approved for baptism.
The baptismal date was set, family members gathered, and former bishop Gill Warner flew to the city where Douglas lived and performed the ordinance.
Bishop Warner, through the love of his heart and with a sense of responsibility to a former priest in the Aaronic Priesthood—even the quorum over which he presided—went to the rescue, that not one would be lost.