Gospel Story Finder

Ten-year-old David took a piece of bread from the sacrament tray and placed it in his mouth. He nudged the white-haired gentleman next to him and whispered, “Brother Graham, the bread is here.”
Brother Graham raised his head, opened his eyes, and smiled warmly at David as he took the sacrament. Then he passed the tray on, bowed his head, and closed his eyes again.
David tried to keep his mind on some of his favorite stories about Jesus as the bread and water were passed. But he couldn’t help wondering why Brother Graham always fell asleep during the sacrament, when he seemed wide awake during all the rest of the meeting. I guess being old is like that, he thought. You can fall asleep anywhere at anytime. That’s how Grandpa Owen is, but he’s a lot older than Brother Graham.
The last time he’d seen Grandpa Owen, he was sitting in a reclining chair with his feet propped up. Even though it was June, he’d had a fire in the wood stove and a blanket across his legs. While the family visited with each other, Grandpa dozed off. When he woke up, you could tell that he’d been sleeping because his eyes looked like he was trying to focus them.
When the water was passed, David decided to pay close attention to Brother Graham’s eyes when he opened them. They were clear and alert as he opened them to take the sacrament. And he smiled so warmly at David that he was sure that the older man hadn’t just woke up. Then what is he doing? David wondered.
When his family had moved to Smithfield the previous July, David had felt sad. Before, for years he had stopped by Grandpa’s every day after school. He’d spent a lot of his summers taking walks with Grandpa around the neighborhood, listening to him tell about how things were in the “olden days.”
When Grandpa couldn’t walk anymore, David had pushed his wheelchair. When even that became too tiring for Grandpa, David read to him. But since his Dad had been transferred and they’d had to move, David couldn’t do any of that anymore. He just swung idly in the hammock in the backyard.
“You look like a strong boy,” a deep voice had called out to him one afternoon through a knothole in the back fence. “Do you want a job mowing my lawn?”
“Who, me?” David sat up, startled. “Yes, I guess so.”
“Be at my front door in five minutes if you want the job.”
“Mom,” he yelled as he ran in the kitchen door, “I have a job!”
“Great! Doing what?”
“Mowing the lawn next door! But I have to be at his front door in five minutes if I want the job. Probably three minutes by now. Is it OK?”
“All right. But if you take the job, do the best work you can.”
David was out of breath when he rang the doorbell. “I’m Brother Graham,” the man who answered the door told him. “What’s your name, young fellow?”
“David Andersen,” he replied, taking the out-stretched hand.
“I’m glad to meet you, David. I’ve met your parents at church and have been meaning to get over to your house to meet you for several weeks now, but I’ve been in bed with a summer cold. Meanwhile my yard has grown shabby. I’m mighty glad to have someone take over the mowing for me. The pay’s modest, but I’ll try to be good company for you. Is five dollars enough?”
“That’s great!” David answered.
“Let’s go out back, and I’ll show you the shed where the lawn mower is so that you can get started.”
“Shall I start now?” David asked.
“Go ahead. I’ll sit over there on that bench under the tree and watch, if you don’t mind.”
David pulled out the mower, checked its fuel tank, and started it up. He mowed around the edge of the entire backyard. It made a neat rectangle. Then he moved the mower inside the first rectangle and made a smaller rectangle inside, making sure that the mower blade overlapped the first swath so that none of the grass would be missed. Just the way Grandpa Owen taught me, he thought.
“I can tell you’ve mowed lawns before,” Brother Graham praised him when he finished the backyard. “I think you’ll do just fine. When you finish the front yard, let me know and I’ll give you your pay.”
When David finished mowing, he surveyed his work. It looked great, except for the edges. He remembered what his mother had said: “If you take the job, do the best work you can.” When he took the mower back to the shed, he looked around for a trimmer. All he saw were hand clippers hanging on the wall. Thinking, It will go faster if I use our trimmer, he ran home and poked his head inside the kitchen door. “Mom, is it OK if I use our trimmer on Brother Graham’s yard? He doesn’t have one.”
“That’s fine,” she called from the laundry room.
He grabbed the trimmer and the long extension cord from its hook in the garage and headed back next door. Brother Graham was sitting under the tree, sipping lemonade. There was a second glassful on the table, and five silver dollars.
“I thought you’d be thirsty,” Brother Graham said, nodding towards the glass.
“I am,” David said. “But I want to trim the edges first. Do you have someplace where I can plug in this extension cord?”
“There’s an outlet next to the back door, and another one by the front door. I’ll go find another dollar for you. I didn’t realize I was going to get such fine service.”
David shook his head, “The trimming is on the house.”
After he finished the trimming, he and Brother Graham visited while they sipped their lemonade. Brother Graham reminded David of Grandpa Owen. David was happy when Brother Graham asked him to mow the lawn every Thursday—and to visit any time!
The next Sunday he invited Brother Graham to sit with his family. After that it became a tradition. Every week Brother Graham sat next to David, and every week, David had to nudge him before he took the sacrament bread and water.
It was Thursday, lawn-mowing day, before David next went to Brother Graham’s. His family had taken a few days to visit Grandpa Owen. When they’d arrived, he hadn’t recognized any of them. David thought, almost angrily, Why doesn’t Grandpa know me?
Brother Graham noticed David’s quiet mood when he came to collect his pay after mowing and trimming the lawn. Motioning for David to sit on the sofa, he handed the boy a cold glass of lemonade, then sat down himself.
Pictures of several families hung on the wall. On top of the piano was a picture of a young woman. It was an old-fashioned picture, so David guessed that it must be Sister Graham.
“That’s my wife, Martha,” Brother Graham said. Pointing to each of the family pictures, he named his children and grandchildren. “That’s my family, David. The older I get, the more I realize that all that matters in this life is a man’s family and the other people he grows to love—like his neighbors!” He winked at David.
David smiled.
“So there is a smile behind that sober face today, after all. Is something troubling you, Davy, my boy?”
Tears welled up unbidden in David’s eyes. “That’s what Grandpa Owen calls me. At least, that’s what he used to call me.” He told Brother Graham all about his grandpa and about how he didn’t even recognize David any more. “It just isn’t fair!”
Brother Graham sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. His lips were drawn tight. “I know what you mean, David,” he said after a few moments. Opening his eyes, he leaned toward David. “Martha didn’t know me, either, just before she died. It hurt a lot. Then one day I read a story in the New Testament that changed how I felt about it.
“You see, just after Jesus was crucified, two of His disciples were walking down a road, talking, and a stranger joined them. He asked them why they were so sad. They told him about Jesus and how He had been crucified. They told him how discouraged they were. They had believed that Jesus would free Israel from the Romans. They couldn’t believe that He had let Himself be crucified. They told the stranger that some of the women who were friends of Jesus had gone to His tomb and found it empty. They didn’t know what it meant.
“Then the stranger taught them from the scriptures why it was necessary for Jesus to suffer the things He had, and about the Resurrection.
“By then, they had reached their destination, and they asked the stranger to stay and eat with them. Then, when the stranger took bread and broke it and blessed it and gave it to them, they gasped in astonishment. The stranger was no stranger at all—it was Jesus! How could He have walked with them so long without their recognizing him? they asked each other. ‘Did not our heart burn within us … while he opened to us the scriptures?’*
“Then Martha’s not knowing me didn’t seem so hard. I just became even more thankful that because of our Savior and His Atonement and Resurrection, someday Martha and I will be together again. Her mind will be clear again, and just as the two disciples of Jesus Christ once again recognized, or “knew” Him, she will know me then—probably better than she ever did in this life. Your grandpa will know you, too, David. It will be one of the sweetest reunions in heaven, I’m sure.”
David wiped the tears from his eyes. He knew what the disciples meant when they said their hearts burned. “Thank you, Brother Graham. That helps me a lot.”
After a few minutes of silence David asked, “Brother Graham, may I ask you something?”
“Go ahead, David. Ask me anything.”
“It’s about church. Why do you always close your eyes while they pass the sacrament? At first I thought you were asleep. But I soon figured out that you weren’t.”
“I’m thinking about that story I told you, about the disciples of Jesus not knowing who He was. I try to remember what I’ve done during the week that would make it hard for me to recognize Him. Then I ask for forgiveness for the mistakes I’ve made and for help to do better in the coming week. I really want to know the Savior the first time I see Him face-to-face, David. I believe that He gave us the sacrament to help prepare us for that day.”
“That’s what I’ll think about, too, from now on—and that someday Grandpa Owen will know me again.”
Mr. Graham smiled. “I’m sure that he will.”

“I love to do the dishes!” Brother Eves announced each week in our Sunday School class. He was in his 60s and taught our class of 14- and 15-year-olds. I was doubtful about learning from someone who was so far removed from my own age. He always shared his testimony and stories of faith. Each lesson ended with a challenge for all of us to go home and learn to love washing the dishes, or to learn to love some other chore that we didn’t enjoy.
I didn’t believe Brother Eves could really love to do the dishes. I figured he was just saying that to inspire us to go home and do the dishes for our parents. I listened each week as he repeated this to us, and I decided to put his words to the test.
I had moved into Brother Eves’s ward because of my parents’ divorce, and at the time I was embarrassed and sad. My mother, my sister, and I had moved from our comfortable family home into a little trailer that was several decades old. I was scared of the changes that lay in front of me, and I was ready to cast a negative attitude on my new situation.
We did not have a dishwasher in our new home, which meant we had to wash all of the dishes by hand. While I completed this chore, I repeated over and over in my head that I too loved to do the dishes. A few weeks went by, and I continued my experiment. I was shocked to discover that doing the dishes did actually become more enjoyable.
I felt this pattern of work and positive attitude growing inside of me. I began thinking positively about all the good things that I had. I quit focusing on what I didn’t have and put my energy into making ordinary daily tasks into something that I enjoyed. My faith increased. I prayed for guidance to face each day’s challenges. I began reading the scriptures with more purpose. I felt my own testimony grow to a firm belief in the truth of the gospel.
Like Moroni, Brother Eves taught that faith needs work (see Ether 12:29–30). The fruit of my faith and work was the attitude I needed to be successful in life. I will always be thankful for that.
See “What I Learned as a Corn Dog,” New Era, July 2006, p. 24.

I know what it is to have such a friend. My husband, John, was kind and thoughtful and romantic in our courtship. Then even when he was going to school full time, working full time, and we had three children under the age of four, he continued to be kind and thoughtful and romantic with me. He has shown this by helping me in my busy roles. He bathed the children every night. He scrubbed the kitchen floor. He was also my window to the world—keeping me abreast to what was happening out there. He provided for us. He encouraged me as a mother. He supported the children in plays, concerts, athletic events, and papers they had to write. He would give me moments of rest—on walks or weekend getaways, taking me to the temple or occasionally on his travels. When I come home tired at night, he makes cheese toast and other such delicacies, so I don’t have to cook. He is my muse and my editor in my writing and talks. He prays for me and gives me priesthood blessings. He is a help suited for me in every way.

“I had a friend on the Titanic,” said one elderly man. “He was a wealthy gentleman and quite old. There were not enough life boats, and women were being put in the boats first. They were trying to help his wife over the side, but she would not go. They held on to each other, and they went down together on that big ship. Several survivors told of that.
“Oh, I would tell a lot of things,” he continued. “That is, if anybody wants to listen. I’m 91 now and my oh my, the things I remember. Life is a wonderful experience, I tell you, it’s a wonderful experience!”

I know that you have a great feeling if you live that law. As I say, I give the credit to my parents. I remember after we were married—my wife and I—that I was working my way through school and I was working at the post office eight hours a day and carrying a full course of law. We had lost a baby, and we had a large hospital bill. I decided to quit the post office and start the practice of law. I quit in September and failed to pay tithing in September because I had built up a retirement benefit with the government that was to be paid to me in November, with which I felt I could pay my tithing. But it didn’t come in November and it didn’t come in December. I had to report that year to my bishop that I had not paid a full tithe. But I did not feel good about it, so I kept a record and paid it in installments at 8 percent interest until I had paid the deficit in full. I had a good feeling after I got it paid. I knew the Lord had understood and accepted my performance.

Then, recently I visited the Junior Sunday School meeting in connection with the stake conference where I was assigned. As I entered the room I saw a little girl crying and looking very lost and very, very frightened. Her parents had just deposited her and gone on to the meeting with the big people. In a moment a wonderful young teacher reached her, knelt by her, and put her arms around her and comforted her. The sobs turned to sniffles and peace began to enter a little heart. Just then the second act in the drama began. Another youngster appeared and started to cry also, frightened and feeling alone like the other had. The young teacher, still holding the first little one, reached the second child, and knelt by her and enveloped her in her arms. As she did I heard her say to the first little girl, “Ellen, this young lady is frightened and lonesome. Will you help me make her feel welcome?”
The first youngster, her sniffles barely dried, nodded, and the two little children, in the safe haven of the teacher’s arms, supported each other and soon both were quieted. The teacher put three chairs together and sat between the two of them, a hand gently resting on each.
When I left that morning I thought I had seen as clearly as I am capable of seeing how the Lord expects us to treat each other, and how wonderful it is to have someone who has lived a little longer and learned to love, to reach out and help us, and then help us help others.

Chea’s story begins in 1987 when two elders, Paul Gooch and Garrett Black, were assigned to the Massachusetts Boston Mission. Since there had not been elders in Lowell for a number of years, they felt it was appropriate to seek special help from Heavenly Father on the missionary effort. At the time there were only two Cambodian families who were members of the Church in that area.
Elder Gooch’s journal entry of April 11, 1987, reads: “On this beautiful, clear, spring day, Elder Black and I went upon the top of Fort Hill overlooking the city. We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place of refuge for the Asian people where they could rest in peace and safety, where the Spirit could dwell amidst them in their homes.” Both elders felt inspired. The entry continues. “We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place where the Asians might come to know Jesus as their Savior.”
The elders’ first meeting with Chea was quite accidental. Looking for another family, they happened to knock on his door. Chea was the only family member who spoke English. In the course of their conversation, he told them that he loved Jesus, wanted to find a church, and made them promise to take him to church the next Sunday. Elder Gooch recalls, “I was very impressed with Chea. He was extremely mature and seemed like a 25-year-old in a 12-year-old body.” Chea’s parents told the elders that their son had visited several Christian churches on his own, but “didn’t feel right in any of them.”
Chea’s maturity is no doubt a result of many of the things he has experienced in his young life. Like many Cambodians who have found refuge in the United States, Chea and his family are survivors. He was four and his sister Soph was ten in 1979 when they escaped with their parents from Cambodia and made their way to the Kavidan refugee camp in Thailand.
They lived in the refugee camp until 1984, when relief organizations sponsored their relocation to the United States. They’ve been in Lowell, Massachusetts, since then. Chea now has two younger sisters: Lundi, who is eight, and Dani, age six.
After hearing the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, Chea knew he had found what he was looking for. “The people are so nice. I feel I belong. As I learn the scriptures and read the Book of Mormon, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me.” Chea loves to sing and adds, “The music makes me very happy.” Although his parents have taken the missionary lessons, attended church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined the Church. (As a Buddhist monk, Chea’s father made certain commitments that he feels would be violated should he join another religion.)
After his baptism, Chea and the elders became very good friends. “Almost every day Chea would come to our apartment,” recalls Elder Gooch. “He would tell us about friends and relatives he wanted us to visit. Sometimes we had a hard time keeping up!”
Smiling, Chea recalls the first person he told the elders about. “Sothom Chea was in my class at school. At first I was afraid of him. I thought he didn’t like me. I asked him if he would like to meet my friends, Elder Black and Elder Gooch. When Sothom said yes I was surprised but very, very happy.” Chea accompanied the elders to all of Sothom’s discussions. He says, “I enjoyed translating the lessons. I learned so much. I could feel the Holy Spirit. Besides, it was fun.”
Old as well as young have benefited from Chea’s desire to share his new-found knowledge. His neighbor, Sophon Heng, a mother of four, and her elderly mother Hong Heng were baptized as a result of Chea’s efforts. Sophon recalls, “Chea was so kind to us. He asked us if we would like to meet two men who would teach us and make us happy. When we said yes, Chea and the elders came to our home each week and taught us the gospel.”
For Chea it is not a sacrifice but a real joy to share Heavenly Father’s message. “Each time I go with the elders I seem to learn something new. I enjoy learning about how to return to Heavenly Father—what I must do and what I must avoid.”
Irene Danjou, Chea’s former Primary president, remembers, “Each Sunday he would bring a different friend to church. He’d introduce them to me, spell their names, tell me their ages, and sit with them until they felt comfortable. Then he would go to his own class. He did this every week for a whole year!”
One example of Chea’s diligence and enthusiasm as a young missionary is recorded in Elder Gooch’s journal: “I was home for lunch, trying to prepare a talk for zone conference. Somehow I just couldn’t get my thoughts together. The telephone rang. It was Chea. He told me that he wanted Elder Black and me to visit the Vongs, a Cambodian family that had been in Lowell for a year. They were praying and fasting to find a church they could attend.”
Saveth Vong and her three children, Chetena, Chendra, and Tola, had narrowly escaped execution. Her husband, a pilot in the Cambodian Army, had been captured. Saveth and her children managed to get out of prison three days before they were scheduled to be shot.
Chea smiles as he recalls his and the elder’s first visit to the Vong home. “Everyone seemed so eager to learn. There were many questions. The Spirit was very strong.” Although the Vongs used a Book of Mormon printed in Cambodian, they needed help with gospel principles. Chea played an important role, assisting the elders as he translated discussions and shared his own experiences in the Church. Elder Gooch’s journal entry continues, “Day after day, Chea sat quietly by Saveth helping her understand the things we taught. He never seemed to tire of the message of the gospel.”
Indeed, as Chea taught the gospel his testimony grew. He recalls, “I remember reading 3 Nephi 27:7: ‘Therefore, whatsoever ye shall do, ye shall do it in my name; therefore ye shall call the church in my name; and ye shall call upon the Father in my name that he will bless the church for my sake.’ I thought, how could it be that I’ve never seen this scripture before? It makes so much sense. Heavenly Father’s true church must be named after his Son!”
This scripture also confirmed for Chea what he knew in his heart was true—that if he prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus and asked for help to share the gospel message, Heavenly Father would bless his efforts.
When the Vongs made the decision to be baptized, Chea was delighted. Elder Gooch recalls that evening, “While we were driving home, Chea asked Elder Black and me to stop by a grove of trees in a nearby park so that we could thank Heavenly Father. We took turns giving thanks and expressing our joy. When we were finished, Chea climbed on my shoulders. After a few quiet moments Chea lovingly looked down, flashed his big smile and said, “The Holy Ghost is with us, Gooch, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Chea, it sure is.”
“I know—I felt it!”
The Vongs were baptized a week later.
Chea loves to fish and play basketball and enjoys video games. Like other Cambodian youth in America, he plays an important role in helping his parents learn their new language and culture. The adults spend long hours working to make ends meet and don’t have much free time to learn English. The youth, on the other hand, pick up the language quickly and bring it home. Chea’s been particularly fortunate. Along with his regular public school classes, he’s in a special program at a private learning center. Director of the center Joan O’Brien sees Chea as a unique child. “I think he’s a youngster who will be a real leader in the Cambodian culture. He’s like a water pitcher that cannot be filled.”

Since the Fall of Adam, all mankind are in a lost and fallen state. Like most of you, my being “found” started with two faithful missionaries. In the year 1913, in Copenhagen, Denmark, Elders C. Earl Anhder and Robert H. Sorenson taught my grandparents the gospel of Jesus Christ and baptized them. My parents taught me the importance of hard work, honesty, and integrity. However, in one short generation we became lost to activity in the Church and a knowledge of the gospel. Looking back, I recall, at a very young age, my playmates inviting me to Primary. My first Church experience was built around Primary friendships.
As a boy several months shy of my 12th birthday, one Saturday afternoon I answered a knock at my front door. Several of my friends—deacons dressed in white shirts and ties—sought me out to come to my very first priesthood meeting. Our leader walked beside me as we made our way down the hill to the Tabernacle on Temple Square. That was April general conference priesthood session.
Lloyd Bennett was my Scoutmaster. Very often on a Saturday afternoon he would pick me up and take me to the Scout office to buy needed badges and supplies. As we rode, we talked. He became a trusted friend. Lloyd Bennett, like so many, took time for the one.
These wonderful friends and leaders understood Elder M. Russell Ballard’s recent counsel to “find … one more” (“One More,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2005, 71), and they understood what that entailed. Sometimes it’s the one in the corner whom we hadn’t considered.
My own Enos experience came at 18 years of age as I knelt in my army barracks in Fort Ord, California. After the lights were out and I knelt on a hard floor, like Enos I came away found. I was to serve a full-time mission. My heart is filled with gratitude for the many who assisted in helping me to come to know who I am and to know of Christ and His gospel. I came to understand that my way home is through our Savior Jesus Christ.
“And he shall come into the world to redeem his people; and he shall take upon him the transgressions of those who believe on his name; and these are they that shall have eternal life, and salvation cometh to none else” (Alma 11:40).
The Old Testament prophet Isaiah, in seeing our day when the gospel would be fully restored, declared:
“Thus saith the Lord God, Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people: and they shall bring thy sons in their arms and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders” (Isa. 49:22).
As we care for the one, brothers and sisters, we see the fulfillment of that prophecy. Can you see how you have been carried in arms and on shoulders—carried to safety?
What would our Savior do with the opportunities that we have to affect the one? As we apply that principle If Christ had my opportunities, what would He do? our decisions in life will be Christ-centered.
I know personally that our beloved Elder Neal A. Maxwell always sought to find the one. For, as Nephi, he labored “diligently to write, to persuade [all of us] to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God” (2 Ne. 25:23). I know that Elder Maxwell made more than one call to those, even to the one, that he was trying to bring unto Christ.
Whether we are a Primary teacher, Young Men or Young Women leader, Scoutmaster, home teacher, visiting teacher, or friend, the Lord will use us, if we will listen, to seek out and find the one.
How grateful I am for the decision to serve a full-time mission, which became a great turning point in my life. Young men, you have the privilege of serving, even to labor diligently. Stay worthy; prepare to preach the gospel; do not delay—go and serve! Young women, you can do so much to build the kingdom. Dear seniors, we need you!
Our family had the privilege of serving in Canada with wonderful, dedicated elders, sisters, and senior missionaries. With heart to heart, spirit to spirit, and in the strength of the Lord, they sought after the one and found him or her, as dedicated missionaries do the world over.
“And thus they were instruments in the hands of God in bringing many to the knowledge of the truth, yea, to the knowledge of their Redeemer” (Mosiah 27:36).
Each one of us can make a difference in someone’s life, even his or her eternal life, but we must act; we must do; we must labor diligently. Perhaps you have received an impression to invite someone to return to church or to hear the message of the restored gospel for the first time. Go ahead, follow that impression. Why don’t we all invite someone to come tomorrow and listen to a prophet’s voice? Would you do that? Will you make that invitation today? With faith and a willing heart (even desire), we must trust that the Spirit will give us “in the very hour, yea, in the very moment, what [we] shall say” (D&C 100:6). I know that to be so.
How grateful I am for this call to serve once again, this time in Australia. I express my eternal love and appreciation to my wife and our nine missionary-minded children for their love and support. I bear solemn witness that the fulness of the gospel is restored upon the earth, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, and that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. Today we are led by a living prophet, even President Gordon B. Hinckley. And I know that God lives, and I know that Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. It is in the Shepherd’s loving arms and on His shoulders that we are carried home. Like Enos, may I humbly say: “I must preach … unto this people, and declare the word according to the truth which is in Christ. And I have … rejoiced in it above that of the world” (Enos 1:26). To these truths, I bear witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

During the first semester of my law school training, I learned a legal principle that helped me better understand how our actions affect our ability to receive the blessings Heavenly Father desires for us.

My contracts class was taught by a distinguished professor who was very kind and gracious—when he was not in the classroom. In class, he was a master at teaching using the Socratic method—a method of teaching that involves asking probing questions in a way intended to develop critical thinking. My professor was so skilled that he seemed like the lawyers described by Amulek, who “by their cunning devices . . . might catch them in their words.” [11]

For most class periods we were assigned to read three legal decisions or cases. During class, a student was called upon to summarize the facts of the case and then describe the legal principles of contract law that the cases established. The unfortunate student was then subject to the professor’s probing, twisting questions that followed. It was almost always a very humbling experience. The first time I was called upon, the cases dealt with a principle of contract law known as unilateral acceptance. As a result, I have never forgotten that principle.

One young woman wrote and shared an experience about a very special boyfriend. She told of his desire to persuade her to participate in improper conduct. She said: “I would tell him that I wanted him to be worthy to go on a mission. Every now and then, when it felt right, I’d say little things about standards or following the wrong path. A few weeks ago, I called him up, and I bore my testimony to him and told him why I say no. It was so hard. I hung up and just bawled. The next day I got a note from him, and in it he told me that I was one of the most respected young women he knew. I am so happy that I have the standards of this gospel and that I could pray to my Heavenly Father for the strength to handle these trials.” And then she closed with this strong commitment: “I’ve made up my mind. I will keep plowing right through all the trials that Satan puts in my way.”

But what can we do when those inevitable moments of loneliness or discouragement creep in? Earlier this month, I experienced one of my rare, brief periods of depression. The loneliness I felt was almost unendurable. The neighbors were home and—as I had done so many times in the past—I sought the comforting warmth of their friendship. I was uplifted through the loving concern of these cherished friends and neighbors and discovered a simple truth: In our hours of need, there are loving hands around us to uplift, strengthen and assist us. Look around. I promise you they are there.

As a high school junior I stood proudly before the small Protestant congregation and delivered an address entitled “Meeting Life’s Requirements.” Following the service, the church members greeted me in the courtyard, offering encouragement for my future religious endeavors. At home that day, I peacefully strolled in the crisp, autumn weather, contemplating the future and thinking to myself, “Maybe I should become a minister.”
It wasn’t the first time I had been before the church body, nor would it be the last. My religious interests developed early in life, and my infatuation with religion was enhanced because of the panic I felt about the prospect of a judgment day. In the introduction to a school paper on the clergy I wrote, “At the end of my freshman year in high school I began to consider the clergy as a profession.” I was at that time anticipating several years in college and theological seminary.
The stage was set, and my high school years were highly successful: student-body president, all-state football player, outstanding band member, and more. But some dramatic changes occurred in my life. The following statements are from my journal and tell the story.
Senior Year, High School—While investigating several churches to learn more about Christianity, I have discovered that some churches do not require extremely long periods of schooling to qualify as a minister. I have just spent several days at a Bible college and learned that if I attend this school I can be ordained a minister after four years. Perhaps after two years, I will be assigned a church of my own in which to officiate. The classes are interesting and Christian oriented.
A Short Time Later—I am planning on attending next year and have turned down a basketball scholarship because of these plans. The only thing that bothers me is that I sense something missing at the college as well as in my personal life. How long will it take to find peace of mind?
Locker Room Prayers—I asked Coach Landrum tonight if we could have prayer before our football games. We all just repeated the Lord’s Prayer, but we are united as a team. We don’t pray to win but to have the strength to be men on the field—using good sportsmanship, wishing no physical injury to either team, winning in the column of character and determination.
A Later Note: I played on many winning teams in elementary and high school. Never did I play on a team as united, as spirited, as our football team this year. It may be secondary that this was the first unbeaten, untied football season in our school’s history.
Approaching Graduation—Religion is becoming so distant that I’m not sure what to do. I pray but can’t interpret any answers. Still, a guilty feeling seems inborn in my soul. I’m bothered when I do wrong. Yet despite my conservative nature I take a drink or cigarette now and then.
Priorities—After I took my first drink the kids at school were more concerned about its effect on my basketball playing than they were about the effect it would have on my religious objectives.
Change of Plans—I just received a football scholarship (and a band scholarship) to Dodge City College. I don’t want to go to school this close to home, but financially it’s my only choice. I missed out on other scholarship offers previously when I was set on becoming a minister. Those plans will wait.
Summer—I’ve moved away from home now and am working at the Dodge City Recreation Center and playing American Legion baseball. It’s not unusual to work all day, go on road games, return home at 2 A.M. and get up at 7 A.M. to go to work.
Miss the Boat—This summer has been unusual. I have gone to church little. I read a lot and write a great deal. But it does seem sort of empty not gathering with people. Religion seems to miss the boat, but maybe so am I.
The Bible—I still tinker with the idea of Bible school education because I can have a pastorate of my own very early. I commented once in Sunday School that we need to return to preaching the Bible. One fellow disputed my claim saying that ministers needed to apply contemporary terms and up-to-date interpretations. But that adds to my confusion—everyone in church hierarchies has a different opinion as to those contemporary meanings.
Tsai Lee-Yueh—I now have a daughter! Tsai Lee-Yueh is her name. I’ve felt lately that while I’m experiencing this transition period I must do something for God on my own. So now I am paying several dollars to Christian Children’s Fund each month to help my foster daughter, Tsai Lee-Yueh, a little Taiwanese girl. I received a letter from her with an English translation. She and some of her friends were given individual Bibles. She wrote, “I don’t know that the Bible is such a precious thing. After the caseworker has taught us how to study the Bible, I know it is a precious book. I feel very happy.” Such a statement would put most Americans to shame.
College Begins—I still pray sometimes. A few times I have said, “Show me the way, Lord, if there is one for me.”
Semester Ends—My first semester of college has ended and I’m on the Honor Roll. Last night I lay in my bed thinking how little time I really devoted to my studies. I laughed to myself and thought, “I did this and all without God.”
A Mormon Girl—I met a Mormon girl the other night. My internal response was, “What’s a Mormon?” I’ve delved into many religions but admit an ignorance to this one.
Book of Mormon—I just spent the weekend with Mom, Dad, and Bill on the farm. I asked Mom if she knew anything about Mormons. She said she thought there was a pamphlet in the bookcase. She found it and an old black, hardback book. I’m reading it now—the Book of Mormon. Mother said it was a Mormon Bible.
After the Carnival—Janet’s the first girl I’ve dated with any regularity in at least six months. Tonight, after our date to my brother’s class carnival, we were talking and the subject of religion came up. I told her about my indefinite plans for the ministry and added, “There’s something wrong with every church.”
With confidence and spontaneity she replied, “Not mine.”
“Oh, sure, you tell me about it,” I answered unalarmed. She isn’t the first girl that has wanted me to be interested in a particular church. But she definitely has a sparkle of purity, a twinkle in her eye.
I told her that I had been studying the Book of Mormon, and she suggested that I talk to the elders. I told her I’d like to sometime.
Following Monday—The strangest thing happened this evening. I work every night at the recreation center, but today when I called in, Mr. Braddock told me they didn’t need me tonight. Studies didn’t appeal to me, so I called Jan about a date and she told me to come over to her house. The elders were coming. The meeting was already set up before I called her, but on any other Monday night I would definitely have had to work.
The Meeting—There we were in her living room. Any minute I expected old men in gray beards and maybe black hats to knock at the door. They rang the bell instead, and was I surprised when the elders turned out to be two young men close to my own age.
Tonight was a spiritual experience. I guess I answered all the questions with the answers they wanted. They said something about planning my baptism for April 27. I’ve never met two people more sincere than Elder Johnson and Elder Towsey.
Dad Knew Mormons—I brought a signed statement from my dad to the elders giving his approval for my baptism. He used to know some Latter-day Saints. He said you have to be a missionary if you join their church.
My Interview—I was interviewed tonight for baptism. It was a relief to find that the elders had only kidded me about taking a written test. I read the pamphlets a few extra times so I wouldn’t be tripped up. I told the district leader that the discussions were like the lifting of a veil, like I had heard the story before. The gospel contains many teachings that I have come to believe over the years, such as a literal, tangible, concerned Heavenly Father. I took the discussions so fast that I have to wait till my assigned baptismal date.
April 27—I was baptized tonight. My family attended the service, as did many of the branch members. This is the cleanest feeling I have known in my entire life. The warm, friendly attitude of the members here is still one of the amazing things about this church.
Few Will Listen—I thought of dozens of my friends who would surely join the Church now. They just needed to learn about it as I had. It’s not like that. I know that most of my friends respect me very much for my high standards, but others leave me asking, as did the Apostle Paul, “Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?” (Gal. 4:16).
Mother’s Day—Dad accepted my invitation and brought Mom out to the branch’s Mother’s Day program today. Bill came too. After sacrament meeting, I went with the elders to my parents’ home for a missionary lesson. After the first discussion Elder Johnson tried to make an appointment to come again and teach my family.
“How about right now?” Mom asked.
So the second lesson was given. Dad had to leave then to do the farm chores. Mom quickly prepared some sandwiches and salads for the elders and our family. About an hour later Dad came back in and ate, and the third lesson was given. Three in one night!
July 27—Tonight I baptized my family. It is three months to the day since I joined the Church. Our family is finally united. As I brought Mom up out of the water, she embraced me and shed tears of joy. We are recipients of life’s greatest blessings.
Youth Conference—My first youth conference just ended, and on the final day I bore my testimony, thanking God that a girl lived the gospel so completely that I found a noticeable, attracting difference between her and other young people, thus leading me to the gospel. I encouraged my other young brothers and sisters to do the same. The gospel works.
A Mission Call—I’m so excited! I came home from classes today to find a letter from the First Presidency. Quickly opening it I discovered that I would be going to California. I wept joyously. Feeling so insignificant in His sight, I asked, “Why me?” The blessings of God seem so unbelievable.
Most Important—My first two years of college have been highly successful, but the most important thing is that I was going off 400 miles away to a Bible college, but circumstances intervened to allow me to discover the truth 13 miles from home. Now, in a week, I will leave on a mission to serve the Lord. I will be a minister.
Temple Sealing—Mom, Dad, and I were sealed as a family today in the Logan Temple for time and all eternity. Bill was still in school back in Kansas.
Temple Marriage—Elder Tuttle married Jan and me this morning in the Salt Lake Temple. Today was even more special because Bill was finally sealed to Mom and Dad. In addition, Mom’s cousins from Missouri were also sealed for time and eternity in the Lord’s house. Mother played a large role in their conversion.
September 3—Our first child, Jill Ann, was born today. Ours for eternity.
Another Baptism—Twenty years ago, Jan’s mother joined the Church. Today, October 9, her father was baptized. A very righteous and faithful man, he has helped the Church on numerous occasions, and served as Scoutmaster. Janet has been shedding tears of joy since her mother called to relay the good news earlier today.
“Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God;
“And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone” (Eph. 2:19–20).

Some time ago, one of the students on this campus called my home to report what sounded to me like a condition of epidemic proportions. It was just before finals. Shelly, who happens to be my niece, explained that she and her roommates were stressed out and needed a place to escape for the weekend. I, of course, was delighted to provide the place. They said there had hardly been a weekend or even a day when they had not been completely overloaded. “So much to do and so little time” was their comment as they talked of schedules, commitments, expectations, pressures, and even some anxieties about dates, deadlines, decisions, finances, future obligations, and unlimited opportunities.

The woodland was under a heavy shroud of cloud cover that weekend. Rain filtered through the air, and the cameramen waited patiently to expose their film. It rained, and they prayed. And it rained some more. If the filmmakers were unable to complete filming in that one week during the spring of 1975, the project would have to wait a year until the surroundings were right again. The season would soon change, and to add to the problems, the lead actor had to leave the following Friday. On Monday morning the crew awoke before dawn and and began to set up all their equipment, thinking somehow they could compensate for the weather. But suddenly it stopped raining. When the sun came up, they beheld the loveliest mist they had ever seen. The tall, wet grasses sparkled, and the birds burst forth in song, and they knew they had been blessed with a beauty they could never have produced themselves.
That morning the Brigham Young University Department of Film Production began filming scenes for the First Vision. Stewart Petersen, who played the Prophet Joseph, walked through those tall grasses with thoughts of that other “beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (JS—H 1:14) when Joseph Smith humbly prayed for an answer to his question, “Which of all the churches should I join?”

I watched through the window as lightning flashes illuminated the valley below me. I had to drive home soon, but as the storm raged outside, driving was the last thing I wanted to do.
Finally I left, knowing that the weather would not improve and that I needed to get home. The short walk from my friend’s door to my car left my clothes and hair dripping. Lightning was still flashing several times a minute, and thunder droned ominously in the background.
I began the familiar drive home. A few moments later, I realized I had missed the road to the main highway. I was alone in unfamiliar territory, with only the glare of my headlights to light the way.
I reached for my cell phone, only to find its battery had died. Thunder boomed so loudly my car actually shook, and a bolt of lightning struck the hilltop to my right. Then I noticed a set of headlights coming straight at me.
I swerved back into my lane seconds before the other car zoomed past. My entire body was shaking, and tears poured down my cheeks as heavily as the rain poured down my windshield. I just wanted to be home, but I had no idea how to get there.
Without thinking about it, I started to sing the words from one of my favorite Primary songs: “Heavenly Father, are you really there?” My shaking and tears subsided, even though the storm did not. I prayed to find a familiar road and to be protected as I drove. I started to sing again, and as I sang, I knew the Lord would lead me home.
What was normally a 20-minute drive took 45 minutes that night, but I made it. When I locked my door behind me, safe at last, I sank to my knees. The shaking was back, and I sobbed a prayer of gratitude. I might have been driving in dangerous weather on an isolated road, but I hadn’t been alone.

Brother Williams brings in the garbage cans for 28 of his neighbors. “We need to follow the Savior’s example and do good to people,” he says.
Photographs by Richard M. Romney
Every Wednesday, 81-year-old Ken Williams wears the same shirt and hat. Both the shirt and hat depict a well-known character, Oscar, who lives in a garbage can. That Oscar is known as a lovable grouch. Ken is just known as lovable.
Ken waits inside his front door and listens. He’s waiting for the sound of the garbage truck. Sounds are important to Ken because he’s legally blind. Couple that with the fact that he has undergone 14 years of chemotherapy, and yet he’s still willing to get out and help his neighbors—28 of them, in fact.
Ken is affectionately known by all of his neighbors up and down the street. He’s the man who brings in the garbage cans.
“We see the garbage truck pass,” says a neighbor, Laura Willes, “and the next thing we see is Ken, walking down the sidewalk with his white cane, going from house to house and pulling in the cans.”
“It keeps our community looking good,” says Ken’s wife, De Ann. “But it also keeps the roads clear. I don’t know if a fire truck could get down the street without knocking all of the cans out of the way.”
Laura says Ken’s trash can patrol also provides reassurance to people who have to be away from their homes, “so that it’s not obvious when no one is home.”
So how does Ken manage to move the cans around while walking with a cane? “The cane is more for stability than anything else,” he says, “and when I lean on the garbage can, that gives me stability too.” With the help of a special contact lens, he can see well enough out of one eye to find his way around. When there’s snow on the ground, he won’t go where he might slip and fall.
“If there’s a day when he can’t bring in the cans,” De Ann says, “I alert the neighbors.”
Ken didn’t start out by doing all of the cans up and down the street. It’s a role he grew into. “After the garbage truck would go by, he would go out to the houses right around us and push the cans back off the street,” De Ann explains. “It evolved slowly. He did one more house and then one more, until it has reached what it is today.”
And the Oscar nickname? “That came from our daughter, Collette,” De Ann says. “And it stuck.”
Ken has made friends with longtime residents and new move-ins, with grandparents, children, and grandchildren. “It’s funny how many people know him as Oscar,” Laura says.
Why does Ken repeatedly perform this small act of service? His answer is profound. “We need to follow the Savior’s example and do good to people. That’s what I try to do. It lets them know they have the opportunity to do good to other people too.”
Ken has, in fact, spent a lifetime helping others. As a consultant in the automotive business, he worked with dealerships to improve their operations. As a Church member, he has accepted callings and shared the gospel, “not by preaching to my neighbors but by showing them the joy that comes from following the Savior.”
De Ann recalls, “When Ken was in chemo, the nurses and one of the doctors told me he helped a lot of other patients get through their chemo, mostly because of his personality. He didn’t even know he was doing anything special; he was just being Ken.”
Ken is still dealing with four types of cancer, but he stopped receiving chemo four years ago. “The oncologist says Ken is a walking miracle,” De Ann says.
Every Wednesday, you’ll see him in his Oscar outfit, waiting for the truck to pass so he can help his neighbors. “I didn’t just decide to go and bring in the garbage cans,” Ken says. “I decided it was one of the few things I could still do. And as long as I can serve my neighbors, I’ll keep serving.”
The author lives in Utah, USA.

George Müller buried his head in his hands. He had just learned that the large heater in one of his orphanages was broken.
What is to be done? George asked himself. I must find warm rooms for 300 children until it is repaired.
George didn’t know what to do. But he did know who to ask for help. His Heavenly Father! When George was a young man, he didn’t really believe in God. He lied and stole money from his friends and family and only read the scriptures because he had to for school. Then one day George met some people who loved God and tried to follow Him. George began to pray every day. He learned that God was real and would answer the prayers of His children.
As George looked at the broken heater, he knew this time would be no different. George had faith that God would help. He called workmen to come and fix the heater, but before they could come, a freezing north wind began to blow. George was worried. How would the children stay warm until the heater was fixed?
Then George remembered a story from the Bible where the walls of Jerusalem were built quickly because the builders had a “mind to work” (Nehemiah 4:6). George got on his knees and began to pray. “Lord,” said George, “would you be pleased to change the north wind to a south wind? And would you give the workmen a mind to work?”
When George woke on the morning of the repairs, the weather had changed! Even though it was December, a warm south wind was blowing. The children would be warm and wouldn’t need a fire while the heater was being fixed. The repairs could begin!
The workmen spent all day trying to fix the heater. But there was too much work to finish in one day. At the end of the day, George went down to the cellar of the orphanage. The man in charge of the workers told George, “The men will work late this evening and come very early again tomorrow.”
George nodded. He hoped the weather would stay good until then.
Then one of the workers spoke up. “We would rather, sir, work all night,” he said.
George smiled. He remembered how he had prayed that the men would have a mind to work hard and finish the repairs as quickly as possible. By morning, the heater was fixed and the orphanage was warm and snug before the winter winds returned. George knew that God had answered his prayer.

Danilo zoomed out of his apartment. His tiya, or aunt, was babysitting him. And they were going to the park!
His little sister, Rosamie, held Tiya’s hand as they walked along. But Danilo didn’t need to hold Tiya’s hand. He knew the way! He ran ahead and circled back, pretending to be flying at the speed of light as he raced around them.
When they got to the park, Danilo knew where he wanted to go to.
“Follow me!” he said as he ran to a place on the trail where trees grew overhead. It looked like a leafy green tunnel.
“Stay where I can see you,” Tiya reminded Danilo.
Pretty soon they came to a spot where a dirt path branched off and headed down to the river. Danilo had never gone that way before.
“I’m going down here,” Danilo called to Tiya as he started sliding downhill.
“You can stay there for a minute, but then come back up,” Tiya called after him. “I’ve tried that path before, and there’s not a good way to walk along the river down there.”
But Danilo was already at the water’s edge. He could see a small strip of dirt running next to the water. That way seemed fine to him. Maybe Tiya just didn’t know what she was talking about. Danilo kept walking along the water. Tiya and Rosamie kept walking along the path above.
Soon Danilo noticed that the hillside was getting steeper. He could still hear and see Tiya and Rosamie, but they were getting farther away. The ground became sticky with thick mud.
“Oomph!” Danilo pulled himself on top of a big rock. When he looked ahead, all he saw was the river. He felt his stomach do a little flip. There wasn’t any more trail. And he wasn’t sure he could climb up the hill by himself. He was stuck!
“Tiya?” he called, looking up. Tiya looked down the hillside and gave him a little smile. He felt his cheeks get hot. “Um … can you help me?”
With a kind look in her eyes, Tiya nodded. She picked up a long stick and held it down to him.
“Grab this,” she said. “I’ll pull, and you can climb back up to us.”
Danilo grabbed the stick and started walking uphill. It was hard! His knee scraped against a rock. His elbow hit a low-hanging tree branch.
Finally he took Tiya’s outstretched hand, and she pulled him back onto the trail. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and shook the leaves from his hair.
“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
Tiya put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “I love you, Danilo. I want you to be safe.”
Danilo nodded. With a smile, he pointed forward. “Let’s keep going! On the trail, this time.”

Would you ever believe that the quiet, grandmotherly lady in your ward first kissed a boy on a dare? Or that the smiling, old grandpa who’s been in your ward forever once drove his car into the side of a barn because he forgot that he had to hit the brakes instead of yell “Whoa”?

It’s probably difficult to imagine that the seniors in your ward ever did such crazy things—especially when the only thing you know about them is what bench they usually sit on during sacrament meeting. But that’s not the case for the youth in the Dalton Gardens Ward, Coeur d‘Alene Idaho Stake. They know all about the lives of the ward’s elderly members. Of course, it hasn’t always been that way. It wasn’t until their ward’s “Family History Can Be Fun” night that they began to learn about the older people’s lives.

But ever since then, their hearts have been turning—not only toward their ward’s seniors, but also toward their ancestors and toward each other.

All this turning began when the Dalton Gardens Ward youth took Malachi’s prophecy to heart and became excited about family history work (see Mal. 4:5–6).

They did this by filling out pedigree charts, having classes on the importance of genealogy, visiting with their ward’s senior citizens, and organizing a ward activity in which they acted out episodes from the lives of the grandparents in their ward family.

And what’s been the outcome of all this excitement? For one thing, the ward’s generation gap has narrowed.

“Now when you go to church, you see a lot of the young people going up to the older people in the ward and saying hi and maybe walking them to class,” says Russell Isaacson, a 16-year-old priest. “Before we might have just walked by them because we didn’t really know them at all, but now we see them as our friends.”

Desiree Wallace, 15, interviewed Virginia Gjevres about her life. Desiree found out about Virginia’s first teddy bear and her longing for a dog. And she learned that while Virginia was growing up she was so accident prone that everyone called her Calamity Jane.

“I didn’t really know Sister Gjevres before I interviewed her. I had only seen her at church. But now I just have this love for her, and I want to adopt her as my grandma,” says Desiree, who doesn’t have any grandparents living nearby.

As connections were made between the youth and the elderly in the ward family, it caused some to reflect on the importance of forming eternal connections with their own ancestors.

“The grandparents just really seemed enthusiastic about us getting to know them better. They looked so happy,” says Cassie Gatten, 15. “So it made me realize that when we do genealogy work for our ancestors who have died that they’re probably really happy about that too.”

Interviewing the grandparents about their lives, writing the scripts, finding costumes, and then having rehearsals to make sure everything was just right took a lot of time. But the youth said the time spent was worth it when they saw everything and everyone come together on the night of the activity.

“Sometimes I didn’t really feel like it was worth all the time it took to put this activity together. But then when I saw the final night and the looks on the faces of the elderly as they watched incidents from their lives acted out before them and as they realized that the youth in the ward care about who they are, it all seemed worth it,” Cassie says. “It also made me want to live my life in a way so that if someone were to write a play about me when I am old I wouldn’t be embarrassed by it.”

After acting out scenes from Reny Sampert’s life, Kim Pearson, a 17-year-old Laurel, and her group sang Reny’s favorite song, “O My Father.”

“When we were singing ‘O My Father,’ Reny got tears in her eyes, and you could tell she was really touched,” Kim says.

“This activity brought us so much closer to the older people,” says Amber Isaacson, 15. “A lot of people in the ward are related, but there are families like mine who are not, so it’s just really neat to get to know them like the relatives do.”

Even though Amber and her brother Russell don’t have any relatives in the ward, in doing this activity Russell has realized how much some of the ward’s grandparents have contributed to his life.

“Talking with the elderly in our ward helped me to understand that they are actually a part of me because they helped form the Church here in Coeur d‘Alene. And just to look at it today and see how I’m involved and see the key part they have played in my life makes me grateful that I was able to get to know them better,” Russell explains.

Learning about the grandparents in the ward has also given Russell some understanding about the effects that trials can have in a person’s life.

“Talking with Frances Young and learning about the different trials she went through in her life helps me to see how things like that have made her the great person she is today,” Russell says. “It’s just interesting how different experiences can mold a person.”

Cassie says she learned a lot of new things about the people she interviewed too, even though they were her own grandparents.

“A lot of what I learned about them was a surprise to me,” she says. “But in learning about their youth, I realized where some of their characteristics came from.”

Cassie has also learned that it is only by understanding her heritage that she is able to understand herself.

“It made me really want to figure out where I came from,” she says. “We’re made up of all these people and we don’t even know what they are, so how can we know what we are?”

Whether they learned more about themselves, about their ancestors, or about the seniors in their ward, one thing is certain for the youth in the Dalton Gardens Ward—their hearts have been turned.

“Doing this brought us so much closer to the elderly,” Amber says. “The older people were excited to share their lives with the youth, and we were excited to know about their lives. Everyone wanted to do a really good job with the skits because they had become such good friends with the elderly that they wanted their skit to be the best.”

Everyone in the ward took part in the activity. The Primary children sang, the Relief Society prepared food, the youth performed, and the older members brought their heirlooms to put on display.

A few hours before the activity started, all of the heirlooms were dropped off at the church, making several large piles of mismatched items. By the time everyone arrived, just a few hours later, the piles of items from various families had been organized into an old-fashioned bedroom, kitchen, and living room. All the mismatched items had come together to form a perfect display. And this is the way the activity affected the Dalton Gardens Ward. There was a group of people—some old, some young, some related, some not—that have now come together so well that no one would know they weren’t all from the same family.

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.