Gospel Story Finder

Leaving behind relatives, a culture, and a land they loved must have been a daunting sacrifice, but the hardships were in many ways just beginning. Arriving in Calgary with only a suitcase, a baby buggy, and CAD $32, my parents were in great need.
The Canadian members immediately started serving my family, generously providing help with transportation, shopping, and finding a home to rent. Within a week my parents and my grandma had a home furnished with beds, a table and chairs, a couch, a crib, bedding, dishes, and even some food in the cupboards. My mother wrote in her journal how surprising and thrilling it was to see these unexpected furnishings and how grateful she was for the service given.
Along with deep feelings of gratitude, however, were other emotions. Culture shock was very real and difficult to deal with. The first year of living in Calgary was filled with English classes and frigid walks to work for Dad. They were doing everything possible to establish a sense of home, but still this was a trying time with so much change. The Saints of their new ward in Calgary worked through the language barrier to become a support system to the newly arrived members. Each Sunday my family gained strength as they attended sacrament meeting to renew their covenants, relying on the Spirit to teach them English.
Our family of five was sealed together in the Cardston Alberta Temple in October 1976. My mother had set her sights on this day over 20 years earlier and finally, in a country and language that she would have never imagined as a youth, her prayers were answered. I was then almost eight years old, and I have wonderful memories of my parents’ sparkling eyes and smiles as we children entered the sealing room.
My grandmother was also at the temple that day. I recall her excitement at seeing the temple lights as we had arrived in Cardston. Years later, after retiring from her job in Calgary, she moved to Cardston and gave many hours of service in the temple. She loved to play the organ and help inspire reverence there. Her testimony and love for the Savior was evidenced through her kindness to everyone around her. She is to me an example of a strong Latter-day Saint woman.
I feel overwhelming gratitude to my parents—the pioneers in my family—for their sacrifices of career, extended family, homeland, and possessions. It seems they gave up so much, but the Lord has so abundantly blessed them—and their posterity—for living the principles of the gospel.

Life was going to start at 16. No more having Mom drop me off at dance practice or chauffeur me on my nights out. No more watching older sophomores jingle their key chains as I stepped off a sputtering bus. I was going to get my driver’s permit!
Sure, I would have to drive with an adult in the car, but it was the first step toward freedom. Since age 12 I had been bugging my father to let me practice, but Dad always refused. I still remember the lecture he gave me on the eve of receiving my permit.
“The car is not a toy. Blah, blah, blah. Driving is a serious thing. Blah, blah, blah. People get in car wrecks. Blah, blah, blah.”
I sat in the living room, arms folded, listening quietly. But there was a gleam in my eye. I was ready to hit the road. When Dad put the keys in my hands, I felt a surge of power. Life had begun!
So think of my surprise when driving turned out to be infinitely more difficult than I’d imagined. The road looked so small from the driver’s seat. I could never shake the feeling I was overlapping into the next lane. Every time an oncoming car neared me, I swerved to get away. What’s more, I had lived in the same town all my life and never paid attention to how to get anywhere.
Now, if these had been the only crises of my driving career, I would have probably reached 17 unscarred. But I had to face another obstacle on a daily basis—our driveway.
Our driveway was five times as long as a normal one and had an uphill curve right at the end. It might have been manageable going forward, but Dad insisted we back in. He said he liked to pull out onto the road and see what was coming at him.
It was nearly impossible to negotiate the thing in reverse. To make matters worse, Dad always parked his truck right on the other side of the driveway. It was a big truck that left little room for error. And the truck was Dad’s pride and joy, a sitting duck in a bad location.
One fateful day, after I’d finished trying to find my way through town, I failed the driveway obstacle course. Dad was sitting in the passenger seat yelling his usual directions at me, “Okay, take it slowly. To the right. To the RIGHT! You need more gas. Turn it left now. LEFT! Straighten it out. Straighten it! Straightenstraightenstraighten! STOP!!!” Crunch.
My father leaped from the car and surveyed the damage. The truck had an ugly, ugly dent. He was furious.
“Why didn’t you straighten the car out? Why didn’t you stop?”
I had tried to stop, but I had pressed the gas instead of the brake. I didn’t tell him though. I went in my bedroom, and cried. Life had ended.
A while later, a knock came on the door. I opened it, and Dad stepped in.
“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I’ve always believed people are more important than things, but that’s not how I acted just now. I’m sorry.”
I was too amazed to say much. I had just smashed his truck and he was apologizing to me. He was really sorry. It was a lesson I would remember long after the other driving sessions had faded from recall.
Three days later, my younger brother noticed the dent. We were about to get in the car to leave for his soccer game.
“Wow!” my brother gasped. “What happened to the truck?”
“It was a hit and run,” Dad said calmly. Which in the broadest sense was true. I had hit the truck and run to my room. My brother didn’t notice the half smile Dad slid to me. I smiled and got in on the driver’s side.
“Okay,” I said cheerfully. “How do we get to the soccer field?”

Hello! I’m Maggie from Joplin, Missouri. One night my mom saw storm warnings on the news, and we all went to the basement. The loud whistling wind scared me. I was worried about my friends and our animals. After the storm, I was grateful my family was safe and our house didn’t have much damage.
Lots of other homes and businesses were destroyed by the tornado that came through town. I felt sad for people who lost loved ones. My parents and older brother and sister decided to help clean up our town. It made me think of the scripture, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).
I wanted to help clean too, but my mom said it wasn’t safe for a child. Then I felt the Holy Ghost share a great idea to make people feel happy. I made 20 thank-you notes to give to volunteers. I spent lots of time making each card special so that people could feel the Spirit and know they were very important to our town.
I learned that even if you can’t do certain things to serve, you can always think of other ways to serve. Heavenly Father will bless you for serving Him and your fellow man.

It was a tradition in our family to cross-country ski to our cabin each winter. My dad left for the cabin early with my two sisters. The weather was good, and they had no trouble skiing. The next morning when the rest of us started, weather conditions had changed.
Heavy snow was coming down. Large wet, sticky flakes were piling up fast. I was helping all I could as we pulled the sleds with kids and food on them behind us as we skied. With the new snow, the sleds were heavy and weren’t sliding along as they usually did. It only took a little while for us to see that we wouldn’t make it alone. Mom told me to go ahead to the cabin to find Dad.
I started out and was soon alone in the swirling snow. I came to a place where the path through the trees went two different directions. I started one way, but soon didn’t recognize the area. I went a little farther but soon felt frustrated because I wasn’t sure where I was.
I fell down crying, yelling for help. No one heard me and the flakes seemed to be coming down even harder. I remembered a talk I had heard in church from a college student home for Christmas. She said that when she needed help she would read her scriptures and pray. Soon her problems became easier to deal with and understand. She told of how when we need help in our lives, we should pray. I decided to try her advice. I knelt down there in the snow, folded my arms, and prayed.
When I’d explained the problem to Heavenly Father, I got back up and stood for a few minutes until I felt a strong feeling that I should turn around. I started heading back to where I had taken one of two paths. From there I went the other direction and felt comforted. I soon found our cabin.
I told Dad what had happened, and he followed my tracks back to find the others struggling in the storm.
Though perhaps not as dramatic as when Brigham Young sent men out to rescue the pioneer handcart companies, Dad said that was what came to mind when he found Mom and the others. Their suffering had not been as great as the pioneers, but it had been real enough and their joy in being rescued was just as genuine.
We were all glad to get inside the cabin where it was warm and safe. I prayed again and thanked Heavenly Father for comforting me and guiding me to the right path and giving me the strength to go the distance. I will always remember to turn to my Father in Heaven when I feel lost.

In the early 1930s the Brown family had left Cardston and come to Salt Lake City, where Victor Brown studied at the University of Utah. It was in 1936 in Salt Lake, downstairs in the board room in the old Granite Stake house, that he first saw Lois Kjar. Or perhaps it might be best to say that Lois saw Vic.
Sister Brown says about their first meeting, “I remember it as distinctly as can be. Our board meeting was just about to begin when a tall young man walked into the room. Since this was the first meeting of a new MIA stake board, none of us had been formally introduced, but as I watched this particular young man record the events of the evening in his capacity as secretary of the men’s board, I was much impressed by his quiet efficiency. With a feeling of guilt I turned around the engagement ring I was wearing just before I was introduced to him at the end of the meeting. Even so, it wasn’t a fairy-tale romance of ‘love at first sight,’ for it was several months before we had our first date—a prom at BYU. But his gentleness and courtesy were so genuine and natural that I found myself more deeply impressed each time we met, and happily for me, we began to meet more often than just at board meetings.”
Lois and Vic Brown enjoyed dancing and would often go to the Old Mill to dance. The Old Mill had once been a paper mill in the southeast part of Salt Lake Valley. It was a romantic spot near Big Cottonwood Creek and was surrounded by cottonwood trees. It was a great place for young people to meet and enjoy one another’s company. Lois remembers that Vic was a very good dancer, and on one occasion at the very same Old Mill, Victor L. Brown asked Lois Kjar to be Mrs. Brown—and she accepted, of course.

Bronwyn Kerns of the Winchester Ward, Winchester Virginia Stake found an unusual way to incorporate the Young Women values into her daily life—she spent more than 200 hours making them into a quilt! Different squares of the quilt highlight different aspects of the values, and the center square contains the Young Women theme.

Bronwyn credits her mother for helping her with the project, which is now used as a decoration in Bronwyn’s home and as a special display at Young Women functions.

Everyone is a child of God! This means that in the eyes of our Heavenly Father we are all equal and that he loves us all the same. It took me quite a while to realize this. I felt sorry for myself because I wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, or because I didn’t have a date for every Friday night, or some silly reason like that. I knew it was wrong for me to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it. I just felt depressed.
Then I read “Our Family Motto” by Tom Osmond in the April New Era, and it really made me think. I was being greedy and very selfish wanting such useless things when I could have much higher goals and ambitions to work for. (In the 13th Article of Faith it says, “If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” Isn’t it worth it to work now in order to be rewarded later?) Tom is deaf, and he has accomplished so many things by having such a positive attitude. A person’s handicap is not what matters. What matters is how he applies himself and goes after his dreams. If you have self-confidence and a positive attitude, you’ll go so much further!
Now, I still look the same, and I’m not going out every single night, but I’m more pleased with myself. I’m not completely satisfied yet—I never will be! But I feel that I’ve overcome a lot of obstacles (self-pity, lack of confidence) that were in the way. We can do anything we want to if we go after it, knowing that we’ll accomplish it by doing our best. After all, we’re children of God.
Gayle HayesPasadena, Texas

I dread to think how my life would have turned out if I had not been introduced to the Church at that time. Although I have had periods of inactivity, I have always stayed loyal to the teachings of the gospel. I have never stopped believing that the gospel is true, and during those times of inactivity, I knew with all my heart and soul that I would return.
Years on, I met my husband, and we were sealed for time and eternity. Bishop Barratt was a very important part of our gospel journey, yet sadly he was too unwell to make trips to the temple; but he did give many beautiful and sacred blessings to my husband. Over the years I would choose him to bless my children. As my children got older and had children of their own, they would also choose Bishop Barratt to bless their babies too.
Brother Ronald Barratt died in early 2021. His beautiful wife, Mary, gave my husband a few of Bishop Barratt’s tie pins, which will be treasured; it’s an honour to have something of his. It has been many years since Brother Ronald Barratt was bishop, but he brought honour to the title.

In my hand I am holding a pair of pioneer shoes. They were made by a modern-day pioneer, Brother Robert King, while he was serving as a missionary in Nauvoo. He was the first member of his family to join the Church, or so he thought. Brother King and his wife are currently serving as family history missionaries, and in the course of his research, he discovered that his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham joined the Church in 1835. But Reed was lost. He wandered down unknown paths, and the tender seedling of faith within him died.

Allow me to tell you the rest of Brother King’s story. Remember that the seed of faith was planted in the lives of both his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham. What became of Abraham? He kept the faith. Feeling fulfilled in the cause, Abraham endured the persecutions and trials of the pioneer migration west. Due to Abraham’s commitment to the cause of Zion, his posterity includes more than 2,000 members of the Church today.

Just as Abraham is loved and revered for being a courageous pioneer in his family, so will be my friend Robert King. He pioneered his way through a lost line of family history and caught up with his great-grandfather Reed. Because Brother King chose to seek for “the things of a better” and don his pioneer shoes, he is a conduit through which generations, both past and future, will receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley
At the outset, I should like to say that I am convinced that we have never had a more dedicated or more capable generation of young men in the history of the Church. Some of you older brethren may dispute that, which brings to mind the story of the boy who came down to breakfast one morning and said, “Dad, I dreamed about you last night.”
“About me? What did you dream?”
“I dreamed I was climbing a ladder to heaven and on the way up I had to write one of my sins on each step of the ladder.”
“And where did I come into your dream?” the father asked.
Said the boy, “When I was going up, I met you coming down for more chalk.”

President Kimball always reaches out with love to touch the “one.”

We were preparing for an area conference briefing, and as I entered President Kimball’s office, he was seated at a typewriter, his back toward the door. He finished typing and spun around in his chair to greet me. In one hand was a thirty-two-page letter from a young man who had read his book The Miracle of Forgiveness and, in the other, his personally typed reply to answer the special needs of a young man who wanted and needed his help to repent. The message was a clear one to me: No matter how busy you are, never forget those who need your help.

Your article on tallness gave me an added friendship—a girl in my Laurel class whom I was never close to but who has now become a great friend. I recently recovered from viral meningitis. While in the hospital for two weeks I found that my copy of the New Era gave me added courage to fight on and endure. The magazine made me feel closer to the General Authorities and closer to members of the Church. The article on war answered many questions and gave me added courage to be obedient to the laws of my country.
Marily WilsonBurbank, California

Not far from Peñaflor is the town of Talagante. It seems to be a newer town than Peñaflor, with less time for trees to have grown old and gracious. It has more the feeling of a sun-rich central Mexican pueblo, blessed with sunny plazas, sunny courtyards, and sunny streets down which Mormon elders go each day seeking the pure in heart. Two of the elders are Elder Valenzuela and Elder Arancibia. They are both Chileans, and they are good examples of why the future of missionary work in Chile is bright.

Today they headed for the central plaza to do some street contacting. “I was converted to the Church three years ago,” Elder Valenzuela said. “I have a strong desire to try to imitate the Savior, even though it be in a very small way. I have a strong testimony of the Church. I know that it is really the Church of Jesus Christ and that the authorities are directed by revelation, which comforts me. It is a living Church because it has the priesthood. And now, as the scriptures say, I must learn wisdom in my youth and try to follow from the beginning the steps and precepts that the Church has taught so that someday with much effort, I may achieve exaltation.”

Elder Arancibia said, “Belonging to the Church has meant a very great change in my life, and as I progressed, a desire was born in my heart that all the world should have the satisfaction and joy that comes from living the principles that He taught us and be able to work through his authority, the priesthood. This was basically what gave birth in me to this desire to share the gospel. I feel strongly in my heart that Jesus Christ is our Savior. In truth, I owe to him everything that I am. It is his life and his acts that have given me the opportunity of becoming clean and helping my brothers and sisters so that they can arrive at a knowledge like mine and share my joy.”

Elder Arancibia added. “I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. Studying his life and understanding his works and teachings, I have felt in my own person the power of the Spirit of the Lord testifying to me of his divine mission. I could feel it too when the president of the Church came. I know that he too is a prophet of the Lord. The authority is still found on the earth.”

In the plaza they introduced themselves to passersby and set up appointments for later. The work was a little dusty, so they took time out for a shoeshine. Naturally they set up a visit with the shoeshine man.

Their shoes gleaming, the elders left the plaza to knock on some doors. Afterwards they went to the branch president’s house to discuss member-missionary work.

Then they had to go to the meetinghouse because the baptismal font needed cleaning out. With brooms in hand they got it ready for the next day’s baptismal service.

“When a person joins the Church a chain of consequences begins,” Elder Valenzuela explained. “His manner of living changes. His neighbors sense it. The whole neighborhood is influenced. The same thing happens throughout the whole community. Thus, the whole of Chile is going to become more righteous and the standard of living is going to rise because the gospel influences every aspect of life including the social, emotional, intellectual, physical, and spiritual. Everybody asks: ‘Where will inflation end?’ ‘How can war be abolished?’ But the thing that must happen before these problems can be solved isn’t a human thing. The only solution is to apply the gospel of Jesus Christ, to repent and live the principles of the gospel.”

Is it an advantage for a missionary in Chile to be Chilean? Both elders agreed that it is, because of greater cultural understanding and language facility. “But it isn’t really a large advantage,” Elder Arancibia said. “The power that really converts people is the power of the Spirit. If a missionary is true to his calling, he can communicate by the Spirit regardless of his language or nationality. We have found that when everything is right with us, when our part is done right, an investigator can feel the Spirit. There is a communication that is not only the words that come from our lips. God speaks with our voices, and his Spirit testifies to the truth of our words. When we rely on the power of the flesh, things often don’t work out as we would like.”

The font was soon ready for the service. Elder Valenzuela whisked off one last speck of dirt and looked at his handiwork with pride. “Many Chilean missionaries will soon be returning to their homes,” he said. “They are going to establish new Latter-day Saint homes, and the gospel will become even more deeply and firmly rooted in Chilean soil. And as this happens, the number of missionaries will keep growing. There’s no reason why the majority of Chile shouldn’t someday be LDS.”

Probably the most significant thing I learned while on my mission, other than the gospel, is the importance and power of prayer in missionary work—prayer plus appropriate and timely fasting.
While serving in Edinburgh, Scotland, my companion and I had decided not to proselyte in a certain area of the city because we thought other areas would be more productive. There were only two missionaries in all of Edinburgh, a city of about a half a million people. We went about our work in other areas of the city, but we had a feeling that there may be someone we needed to teach who lived in the area in which we had chosen not to proselyte. We decided to set aside a certain day to fast and pray for that area and to proselyte there. We prayed that we would find someone who was prepared for the gospel.
On that day we knocked on the door of Alex and Lilly Clark, a young couple who invited us in right away. We taught them the first discussion and gave them a copy of the Book of Mormon. We asked them to read it and pray about it. We asked if we could return to share more of our message.
They told us that Alex was leaving the next day for a six-month military assignment. Feeling it inappropriate to meet with Lilly in Alex’s absence, we gave them each a copy of the Book of Mormon and repeated our challenge to read and pray about it. We also gave them the address of our chapel.
My companion and I were impressed by them and hopeful for them, but we were not optimistic, knowing what often happens when investigators go for such a long time without contact with the missionaries.
In the meantime I was transferred from Edinburgh to Nottingham, England. About six months after our visit with the Clarks, the mission president asked me to travel back to Edinburgh to handle some mission business. While there, my companion and I attended Sunday services at the Edinburgh branch. You can imagine my surprise and thrill when I saw Alex and Lilly Clark walk into the chapel.
Alex had just returned from his military assignment, and the two of them were soon on their way to baptism. The Clarks became active members of the Church in Edinburgh. When the Edinburgh Scotland Stake was created, Alex Clark was called to be its first stake president.
Forty-one years later, Lilly told my wife and me and two of our grown children that when my companion and I knocked on their door that day, she and Alex were busy getting him ready for his assignment. They didn’t think they had time for one more thing. But when she opened the door, she was overcome with the thought: “You’ve come! It’s you, and you’ve come.”
Alex and Lilly were not looking for religion that day, but when we knocked on their door, Lilly knew she had to let us in. Because she followed this prompting, her family’s lives were changed forever. And so was mine!
As the Lord states in D&C 31:7: “Yea, I will open the hearts of the people, and they will receive you. And I will establish a church by your hand.”
Truly the Clarks’ hearts were opened that day by the power of prayer in missionary work.

When I was baptized, I was the only member of my family who accepted the gospel. I was 19 years old, and I was happy about my baptism. I was welcomed by the brothers and sisters of the Panuco First Branch in Veracruz, Mexico. In addition, I began preparing to serve a full-time mission as soon as I had been a member of the Church for one year. It was wonderful to know the true Church, and I wanted to share the gospel with others.
My father, my stepmother (my mom died when I was 12 years old), and my three brothers rejected the Church when I was baptized. Unfortunately, I didn’t respond well. I was disrespectful to them. I didn’t consider my father or his opinions. When I told him I would serve a mission soon, he was not happy since I would stop working and especially since I might go far away. It bothered me every time my family’s lifestyle conflicted with my principles, such as when they watched TV or listened to music programs that I felt were inappropriate for Sundays or when my father would invite me to have lunch on fast Sunday.
I justified my negative attitude toward my family by telling myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong—as a member of the Church, I should live gospel principles even when my family members bothered me. I told myself they were the ones who should change. Due to this reasoning, my relationship with my father was not good. It got worse because of my attitude and pride. I continued this way—not concerning myself with his spiritual welfare.
One day while I was studying for my institute class, I came to 1 Nephi 16, where Nephi breaks his steel bow, making it difficult to get food. Everybody began to murmur—Laman and Lemuel, as was their custom, together with their father, the prophet Lehi. Nephi responded by making a bow and arrow out of wood and asking his father where he should go to obtain food. His father prayed for guidance and was reprimanded by the Lord for having murmured. Lehi reacted favorably and retook his role as leader of his family and as a prophet of the Lord. Nephi did not judge his father in his weakened state, nor did he think that he shouldn’t be prophet anymore, even when Nephi had spoken with the Lord and had received visions.
When I read and understood this account, immediately I thought of how badly I had behaved toward my family. I was embarrassed by my attitude—feeling that I was better than they were—and felt especially bad for not treating my father with respect. I was sad for not making it a priority to share the gospel with them.
I had not seen my family as they could become. I had focused only on their weaknesses. From that day on, my attitude and behavior changed gradually. I strived to always respect my father’s opinions, despite the many times I did not agree with him. If he invited me to lunch when I was fasting, I said I was sorry for not being able to share the meal with him. I no longer felt bothered by the programs or music they watched or listened to on Sundays, remembering that they still hadn’t made covenants with our Heavenly Father, as I had.
One morning while I was helping my father with a meal, I told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was for my rude behavior. I told him I was proud that he was my father and that I wanted to have a peaceful relationship with him.
Everything began to change. The arguments lessened and disappeared. Although I thought it would be a long time before my family joined the Church, their attitude toward the Church improved. None of these changes would have happened had I not changed first.
After I had been a member of the Church for one year, I served as a full-time missionary in the Mexico Tijuana Mission. Three months before returning, I received a letter saying that my family had accepted the gospel and would be baptized. When I returned, they already belonged to the Church.
In my 15 years as a member of the Church, one of my greatest lessons came from my study of the Book of Mormon and with the children of God I had closest to me: my family.

The last barrel was rushing toward me.
“Your horse isn’t on the right lead, Susan,” shouted Grandma from the fence.
I know, Grandma. You don’t need to tell me, I thought.
Leaning low over Ginger’s withers, I shifted a little to the left and tapped my horse emphatically with my right boot. Underneath me, I could feel Ginger’s long stride switch left—but not in time. Ginger went so wide around the barrel she nearly knocked me against the corral fence.
As I urged her toward the imaginary finish line, I could see Grandma shaking her head.
“That’s no way to win a rodeo prize. Those other barrel racers will whip you good.”
“Grandma, you know Ginger isn’t usually this bad!”
“That’s just the point! You’ve been working her too hard. She’ll go sour on you before she ever makes it to her first contest.”
I stuck out my lower jaw. “I can train my own horse, Grandma.”
She didn’t seem to hear me and went right on. “The way I see it …”
The trouble with Grandma living across the road is that she usually isn’t across the road. She’s at our house giving advice to everyone. Last week it was my hair for the school dance. The week before it was my “mediocre” A minus in journalism class.
“There isn’t any excuse for it,” she said. “You can write 10 times better than those other youngsters.” But Grandma’s favorite hangout was on the corral fence watching me train Ginger.
Grandma reached to scratch behind Ginger’s ears. “That sassy little blonde down in Glenville who won rodeo queen last year, she can hardly rein left or right. You better not let her beat you at the barrels.”
I leaned down and yanked the wire latch off the corral gate.
“Just push open the gate for me, Grandma,” I asked.
“You better let that horse cool down before putting her away.”
“I know, Grandma,” I sighed impatiently.
She opened the gate for me. “If you’re going to win,” she said, “you better shorten your stirrups a notch and hang more with your horse.”
I exploded. “Grandma, I’m riding, not you.”
Grandma looked up at me in surprise. Ginger danced underneath me.
I was heating up. “What do you know about horses, anyway! Have you even been on one in the last 50 years?”
I was staring right at her. I could see the hurt come into her gray eyes. But I didn’t stop. “Just leave me alone. Don’t come watch me anymore.”
I jerked Ginger toward the hay field and galloped away. My face was hot with anger. I knew Grandma was standing stiff and hurt behind me. I fumed, gritting my teeth. But as the breeze cooled my face, I knew I would apologize. I’d never seen Grandma look so hurt. I fingered Ginger’s black mane. Tomorrow would be a good day. I’d apologize tomorrow.
“Dead? Dead!” My voice started to squeak, and I felt the tears coming. I didn’t want Mother to see. “But Grandma is too young to die.”
“I’m sorry,” said Mother, putting her hands on my shoulders. “The doctor said her heart just gave out in the night.”
“But, but—not today! Grandma can’t die today! I was going to make things right.”
At the funeral I sat hunched on the bench beside my two brothers. I kept looking down, but the only thing I could see was Grandma’s hurt gray eyes. In my head pounded the words, “What do you know about horses? Don’t come watch me anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I murmured. But I knew it was too late.

In June 1830 the prophet Joseph Smith’s brother, Samuel, set out on the first missionary journey for the Church. He took with him several copies of the Book of Mormon, but was unsuccessful in his attempts to sell them. He returned home disappointed and discouraged, feeling that his work had proved to be fruitless.

Samuel Smith felt he had been a failure, but the one Book of Mormon he managed to give away made its way into the hands of Brigham Young, who passed it to Heber C Kimball. We too can see amazing results if we but try.

Several days ago, we were discussing talks during a family meal. Clarissa, our 13-year-old daughter, was preparing a sacrament meeting talk for our branch in Moscow and felt some anxiety. I reassured her that all would be well and released a little anxiety of my own by saying that at least she didn’t have to speak in front of thousands of people in general conference. Clarissa gave me some advice of her own: “It will be OK, Dad. Just pretend it’s a big branch.” Brothers and sisters, you are indeed a very large branch.

Growing up in southern Utah, some of us sought employment at the many gasoline service stations that lined Highway 91, which ran through downtown St. George. My younger brother Paul, then 18, worked at Tom’s Service, a station located about three blocks from our home.
One summer day a car with New York license plates pulled in the station, and the driver asked for a fill-up. (For you under the age of 30, in those days someone actually came out and filled your car with gas, washed your windows, and checked your oil.) While Paul was washing the windshield, the driver asked him how far it was to the Grand Canyon. Paul replied that it was 170 miles.
“I’ve waited all my life to see the Grand Canyon,” the man exclaimed. “What’s it like out there?”
“I don’t know,” Paul answered. “I’ve never been there.”
“You mean to tell me,” the man responded, “that you live two and a half hours from one of the seven wonders of the world and you’ve never been there?”
“That’s right,” Paul said.
After a moment, the man replied, “Well, I guess I can understand that. My wife and I have lived in Manhattan for over 20 years, and we’ve never visited the Statue of Liberty.”
“I’ve been there,” Paul said.
Isn’t it ironic that we will often travel many miles to see the wonders of nature or the creations of man, yet ignore the beauty in our own backyard?
It is human nature, I suppose, to seek elsewhere for our happiness. Pursuit of career goals, wealth, and material rewards can cloud our perspective and often leads to a lack of appreciation for the bounteous blessings of our present circumstances.
It is precarious to dwell on why we have not been given more. It is, however, beneficial and humbling to dwell on why we have been given so much.
An old proverb states, “The greater wealth is contentment with a little.”
In his letter to the Philippians, Paul wrote, “Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content” (Philip. 4:11).
Alma instructed his son Helaman, giving him counsel that all fathers should teach their children: “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the morning let thy heart be full of thanks unto God; and if ye do these things, ye shall be lifted up at the last day” (Alma 37:37).
Alma said, “Let thy heart be full of thanks unto God.” The Lord desires that we give thanks. In Thessalonians we read, “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (1 Thes. 5:18).
We should always strive to increase our gratitude. Gratitude may be increased by constantly reflecting on our blessings and giving thanks for them in our daily prayers.
President David O. McKay (1873–1970) said: “The young man who closes the door behind him, who draws the curtains, and there in silence pleads with God for help, should first pour out his soul in gratitude for health, for friends, for loved ones, for the gospel, for the manifestations of God’s existence. He should first count his many blessings and name them one by one” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1961, 8).
A constant expression of gratitude should be included in all our prayers. Often prayers are given for specific blessings which we, in our incomplete understanding, believe we need. While the Lord does answer prayers according to His will, He certainly must be pleased when we offer humble prayers of gratitude.
The next time we pray, instead of presenting the Lord petition after petition for some action in our behalf, give Him thoughtful thanks for all with which He has blessed us.
President Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918) has instructed us that “the spirit of gratitude is always pleasant and satisfying because it carries with it a sense of helpfulness to others; it begets love and friendship, and engenders divine influence. Gratitude is said to be the memory of the heart” (Gospel Doctrine, 262).
In October 1879, a group of 237 Latter-day Saints from several small southwestern Utah settlements was called to blaze a new route and colonize what is today known as San Juan County in southeastern Utah. The journey was to have taken six weeks but instead took nearly six months. Their struggles and heroics are well documented, particularly their seemingly impossible task of crossing the Colorado River at a place called Hole-in-the-Rock. Those who have visited this place marvel that wagons and teams could have been lowered through this narrow crack in the red-rock canyon walls to reach the Colorado River far below. Once the Colorado was crossed, however, many other severe tests awaited them on the trail to San Juan County. Tired and worn out, early in April 1880 they faced their final obstacle, Comb Ridge. The Comb is a ridge of solid sandstone forming a steep wall nearly 1,000 feet high.
One hundred and twenty years later, our family climbed Comb Ridge on a bright spring day. The ridge is steep and treacherous. It was difficult to imagine that wagons, teams, men, women, and children could make such an ascent. But beneath our feet were the scars from the wagon wheels, left as evidence of their struggles so long ago. How did they feel after enduring so much? Were they bitter after the many months of toil and privation? Did they criticize their leaders for sending them on such an arduous journey, asking them to give up so much? Our questions were answered as we reached the top of Comb Ridge. There inscribed in the red sandstone so long ago were the words, “We thank Thee, O God.”
I pray that we might keep our hearts full of thanks and appreciation for what we have and not dwell on what is not ours. Let us adopt an attitude of gratitude in all we do.

Chandra’s little brother, Kendall, was a wiggle worm. He couldn’t sit still in church for five seconds. He crawled under the benches, and he dropped the hymnbook on the floor to listen to it thud. One Sunday he even escaped and went running down the aisle, laughing and giggling. That made Chandra want to crawl under the bench herself. “I don’t want to go to church next week,” she told her mother as they drove home in the car. “It’s too embarrassing when Kendall is such a wiggle worm.”
“It is embarrassing,” admitted mother, “but remember that it’s hard for a three-year-old to sit quietly for a long time. What could we do to help him?”
“I don’t know,” Chandra said crossly. “He’s just impossible.” When she got home, she changed her Sunday dress and went to the kitchen to set the table. There was Kendall doing puzzles. He was very quiet and seemed to be thinking intently. Chandra watched him for a minute. He can be quiet when he has something quiet to do, she thought. All of a sudden a great idea hit her. “I know how to de-wiggle this worm!” she exclaimed.
That afternoon while Kendall was napping, Chandra began. Her mother gave her some old magazines and Church manuals, and Chandra found pictures of things that Kendall liked—trucks, animals, and food. There were pictures of Jesus and of reverent children too. She glued them all to stiff paper, then cut them into puzzle pieces—but not very many, because she knew that three-year-olds need easy puzzles. She got some envelopes and carefully put each puzzle’s pieces into a separate envelope. She smiled as she looked at the puzzle of Captain Moroni. Kendall loved soldiers.
Now what? Chandra thought for a minute. Then she got out old coloring books, cut out pictures of animals, and glued light-colored flannel on the back of them. She made two of each animal by gluing plain paper to flannel and using the first animals as a pattern, then using a black marker for their outlines and simple details like eyes. She found some dark-colored flannel and cut out a large ark-looking boat. Putting all the pieces in a large manila envelope, she mused, Maybe Noah will help Kendall be quiet.
By this time Chandra was getting tired, but she had one more idea. She found an old sock that didn’t have a mate. She cut two eyes, a nose, and a mouth out of leftover bits of flannel and glued them onto the sock to make a puppet. She didn’t know how to put yarn on for hair, so she decided it could be bald. A bald bishop! That sounded good. She put her hand into the sock. The bald bishop looked very wise. “Thank you for your reverence during the sacrament,” he said.
After she put all the finished projects inside a book bag, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Mom!” she called. “Come see my Wiggle Worm Kit! It’s going to help Kendall be reverent in church.”
When Mother saw all the things Chandra had made, she was impressed. “I think this will really help,” she said. “Could I also put in a Bible storybook and some stickers? Maybe some drawing paper and a pencil would be good too.”
When everything was in the bag, Chandra heaved a sigh of relief. She was proud of her work. Thanks to the Wiggle Worm Kit, Kendall would be able to sit still longer and make less noise. “I wish Sunday was tomorrow!” she declared happily.