Gospel Story Finder

At the end of the most recent interregnum period, on Sunday morning, January 14, 2018, the Council of the Twelve met in the upper room of the Salt Lake Temple in a spirit of fasting and prayer, under the presiding direction of President Russell M. Nelson, acting as the senior Apostle and President of the Quorum of the Twelve.

In this sacred and memorable meeting, seated by seniority in a semicircle of 13 chairs, following a well-established precedent in unity and unanimity, hands were raised to first sustain the organization of a First Presidency and then sustain President Russell Marion Nelson as the President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This followed with the Council of the Twelve gathered in a circle with hands placed upon the head of President Nelson to ordain and set him apart, with the next most senior Apostle acting as voice. President Nelson then named his counselors, the President of the Quorum of the Twelve, and the Acting President of the Twelve. Following similar sustaining votes, President Dallin Harris Oaks, President Henry Bennion Eyring, and President Melvin Russell Ballard were each set apart to their respective offices by President Nelson. This was a deeply sacred and special experience, with an abundance of the Spirit in attendance. I offer to you my absolute witness that the will of the Lord, for which we fervently prayed, was powerfully manifest in the activities and events which took place that day.

The Thomas family lived on a farm about ten miles from town. Although Tommy and Mary loved the trees, the stream where they swam in the summer, and all the animals and chickens, they were often teased about their plain clothes and country ways by their city-bred schoolmates.
Tommy, in the fifth grade, wasn’t bothered much by the teasing, but Mary, only a first grader, almost cried whenever her best friend, Cathy, asked her why she always wore plain cotton dresses and sturdy walking shoes.
One day, when Mary came home from school looking very sad and thoughtful, Mama asked, “Why the long face, Kitten?”
“Mama, why don’t I have any frilly dresses or shiny shoes?”
Mama sat down at the wooden kitchen table. “Honey, sit down, and I’ll try to explain it to you.”
Mary slid onto a chair and propped her chin on her hands.
“Your papa and I both grew up on farms, but we went to the city after we were married. When you were just a baby, Papa and I decided that it would be better for all of us to move from the city, so we bought the farm.”
“Why did you and Papa leave the farm in the first place if you liked it?” Mary asked.
“Remember last week when you went to Cathy’s birthday party and you told me how new and fancy Cathy’s house is?”
“Yes, Mama,” Mary answered.
“That’s why Papa and I went to the city. We thought that people in the city had nicer things than we had. But we found out that the ‘nicer things’ weren’t as important to us as the life-style that we could have on a farm. Papa earned a good salary in the city. I got a job there, too, but that meant that I couldn’t be home with you and Tommy. It costs more money to live in the city and buy all the things that people there tend to think are important to have.”
“But what does that have to do with why I can’t have pretty store-bought dresses?”
Mama continued patiently, “On the farm Papa doesn’t make as much money as he did in the city. And I don’t have a regular, paying job. We have plenty to eat, but the money we make has to go for equipment, mortgage payments, seed, and other necessities. Maybe when we’ve finished paying for some of the equipment, we can buy more things, but we just don’t have money for extras now.”
Mary understood better, but how she longed for some of the things her classmates had! Looking up at Mama, she asked wistfully, “Would Heavenly Father be upset if I prayed for a frilly dress?”
“I don’t think so, Kitten. But remember that Heavenly Father only promises to give us what’s best for us. He doesn’t always give us what we simply want.”
“I understand, Mama,” Mary answered with a smile. “May I go out and play now?”
“OK,” Mama said as she hugged Mary before the little girl scampered outside.
Tommy had come in during the conversation and had stood quietly listening.
“Mama, do you really believe that Heavenly Father will make a way for Mary to get a dress?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Tommy,” Mama said slowly. “But I know that she’s still too young to completely understand why she can’t have one.”
“I understand, Mama,” Tommy said as he banged out the door. “I’m going to help Papa till dinnertime.”
Mama lowered her head and prayed, “Heavenly Father, we thought that we were doing the right thing to come here, but children can be cruel to each other. It hurts me to see Mary and Tommy teased and ridiculed. Please help us. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Mama quickly rose from her chair. There was baking to be done. On Saturdays people in town gathered at the community center, where baked goods, handicrafts, and other things were brought to be sold. Mama had learned years ago that she had a talent for baking. And the small amount of money she earned with her baked goods was needed for necessities. Last year’s drought had hit the farm hard.
Papa had often said that she sold her wares too cheaply, but she always replied that she made a fair profit. Papa knew that she gave away a loaf of bread or a cake or a pie when someone looked hungrily at the goods and Mama knew that he couldn’t afford to buy anything. Papa was pleased that Mama did it and that she always masked her charity by saying that the item wasn’t selling well or that it would become stale at home. In that way she made the recipient feel that he was doing her a favor.
That night, as Mama heard the children’s prayers, tears came to her eyes when Mary timidly asked, “Please, Heavenly Father, may I have a frilly dress?” Mama was to hear this plea repeated many times during the next few weeks, for Tommy always included Mary’s request in his own prayers.
Spring planting began, and soon school would be out. Mary was confident that Heavenly Father would provide a fancy dress for her to wear on the last day of school. Mama had racked her brain to find a way to get a dress for Mary, but all the available money had gone for seed and fertilizer. Then, one lovely Sunday afternoon as the family sat in the living room after church, they heard a thump outside the front door.
“What’s that?” Papa asked as he rose from his chair. He opened the screen door. “It’s a big sack of something,” he called to the others. They crowded around him as he untied the cord and opened the sack. “Pecans!” he exclaimed. “Why would anyone leave a huge sack of pecans at our door?”
Mary, who had watched the sack-opening expectantly, wailed, “I didn’t pray for pecans.” She went back into the house.
“What are we supposed to do with them?” Tommy asked. “They’ll go bad before we can eat them all.”
Mama knew what to do with them. If I can only make my idea work, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Please take them into the pantry, Tommy. I’m sure that whoever left them knew that we would find a use for them.” Her eyes gleamed with hope.
The next morning at breakfast, Mama tried to keep her excitement from showing as she said to Papa, “I’ll need the truck for a while this morning, honey. I’ll be back to help with the planting as soon as I can.”
“OK. What’s up?”
“It’s a surprise,” she answered with a happy smile. “If it works out, you’ll all know soon enough. Right now it’s time for school, kids.” Mama gave them a hug and scooted them and Papa out the door. She was impatient to get her plan under way.
Finally she was on her way to town. She went directly to the small bakery on Main Street. Half an hour later she emerged with several boxes, which she loaded into the truck. Back at the farm Mama hurriedly stored the boxes in the pantry, changed clothes, and headed for the fields, humming a tune.
Papa looked up. “You got back quickly,” he commented. “From the look on your face, I’d say that things went your way. Are you going to tell me about it?”
“Not yet,” Mama replied, grinning. “I won’t be able to help you as much on the farm for a couple of weeks, though, and I’ll need the truck for about an hour every day.”
Each morning, as soon as the children left for school and Papa went to the fields, Mama worked in the kitchen. And each afternoon she put things in the boxes she’d obtained, loaded them into the truck, and went to town, always returning with a happy smile.
Finally, one Saturday morning Mama announced, “I must go into town by myself for a little while, but when I come back, I’ll have a surprise for each of you.”
“Well, Mary, Tommy, let’s get our chores done,” Papa said. “Working will make the time pass faster.”
With everyone helping each other, time did indeed pass quickly. They were setting the dinner table when Mama bustled in with several packages. She handed the first one to Papa, who quickly opened it.
“The new LDS editions of the scriptures!” he exclaimed. “I’ve really needed them in teaching my Sunday School class. Thank you, honey.”
Mama held out a second package, saying, “Tommy, here’s your surprise.”
Tommy’s present was a catcher’s mitt. “It’s just what I’ve been wanting. How’d you know, Mama? I tried not to let on.”
“You’ve been a regular Spartan about it, Tommy,” Mama told him. “But mothers have ways of knowing such things.”
Mama handed the last, and biggest, package to Mary, who had been sitting quietly all this time. “Here’s yours, Kitten.”
Mary slowly opened the box, then squealed with delight. In it lay not one, but two beautiful, frilly dresses—one blue, the other a soft, pale green. “Mama, oh, Mama! Heavenly Father does answer prayers!” she exclaimed as she hugged the dresses to her. “Thank you, Heavenly Father! And thank you, Mama!”
“Now, dear,” Papa said, “tell us how you managed all this.”
“Well, I bake a really good pecan pie, and when Heavenly Father provided that big sack of pecans, I made a deal with the bakery. They furnished all the ingredients except the pecans and ran a special the rest of the month on pecan pies. I did the baking for a percentage of each pie sold, and they sold very well! Even after tithing, I was able to buy these gifts.”
“But, Mama,” Tommy interjected, “where is your gift? You got us what we wanted. What did you get for yourself?”
“I got the best gift of all,” Mama replied.
“What’s that?” Mary asked, puzzled. “I don’t see any more packages.”
“My gift is seeing the pleasure on your faces. I got the joy of giving.”
“I didn’t pray for pecans,” Mary said, “but Heavenly Father knew what we needed and gave us much more.”
“He always does, honey. He always does,” Mama said softly.

May I suggest some thoughts for your consideration. To me the permanent, unchanging, first priority in our lives is our relationship with our Heavenly Father and his Son Jesus Christ. If that relationship is one of love, of trust, and of obedience, all else will be well. May I try to picture for you what I mean? Recently an attractive young woman—the age of the majority of you students, one of your peers—came to my office with her parents. She came from a good family, but she had lost her way and now was in serious difficulty. She was unmarried and expecting a child. What should she do? My heart went out to her. I think she loved the Lord. She had forgotten, however, that if you love the Lord you keep in touch with him and you keep his commandments. She had control over her emotions until I asked her if she said her prayers. Then she began to cry. How important it is to communicate daily, and more often if necessary, with our Heavenly Father. He always loves us whether we are good or bad. It takes initiative on our part if he is to bless us.

Over 100 years ago, in the Samoan Islands of the Pacific Ocean, a young man named Tom Fanene was an important help during a life-and-death situation for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Tom lived in a village called Sauniatu, which had been founded by Latter-day Saints in the area as a place for them to gather and make a community. Just like Saints of God in other times and places, they experienced trials as well as miracles as they worked to build God’s kingdom together. One trial came in 1918, when an influenza pandemic reached the village.
As soon as the illness arrived, it was devastating, and it spread quickly. Nearly every one of the roughly 400 villagers was bedridden because of it. Only a couple of them were well enough to get around: an older man and 12-year-old Tom.
During the 1918 influenza epidemic, Tom exercised faith as he worked hard to care for the people of the village. “Every morning I went from house to house to feed and clean the people and to find out who had died,” he said.
He fetched buckets of water from a spring and brought water to every house. He climbed coconut trees, picked coconuts, husked them, and opened them to collect the juice to bring it to the sick. He also killed all of the chickens in the village to make soup for each family.
The 12-year-old Tom Fanene helped nurse his village to health during a pandemic.
Illustration by James Madsen
During this pandemic, around one-fourth of all of the people in Samoa died of influenza. Some of the people in Tom’s village died as well. Tom helped dig graves and bury more than 20 of them, including his own father, Elisala.
But thanks to Tom’s hard work and loving care, many people in his village survived. He made a big difference to those people and to the building up of the Lord’s kingdom in Samoa. He was “laying the foundation of a great work.”
The 1918 influenza pandemic hit them hard. But Tom helped many to survive. Children went back to school, and villagers again formed the Sauniatu Branch Band (above).

Our family loved the trips we took to the mountains when our children were young. Standing on the edge of beautiful Jackson Lake, with the majestic mountain peaks reflected in its glassy surface, we would have contests skipping rocks across the smooth water. As the rocks sank, we watched while ripples moved out across the water as far as we could see. Even the smallest pebble tossed by our youngest child rippled on and on and on.

A few months ago, Sister Luthy and I returned from serving in the Helsinki Finland Temple. Our time there was a highlight in our lives. Since returning home we have had occasion to share some of our experiences with friends. One of the stories that Sister Luthy likes to relate concerns an impressive Russian couple who came to the temple to be sealed. The wife had been a high government official in Kazakstan and the husband had been a high-ranking officer in the Soviet Military. They had found the Church through the good example of an America businessman who is now a General Authority Seventy, Elder Pieper. The Russian brother told us that during his early years in the military, he had received harassment because he had Jewish-sounding name, so he decided to change it. Not having a knowledge of the Old Testament, he chose a name that he thought would free him from the Jewish connection. The name he chose was Solomon. Apparently no one seemed to recognize the irony, so he kept it.
Brother Solomon was able to attend General Conference some time ago and after attending the Priesthood Session, he lamented, "If only I had known about this earlier in my life, I could have raised sons in the Priesthood." If he were to visit this university today, I think he would have a similar lament about how he wished his children could have attended BYU. He would recognize how blessed you are to have the Gospel and to be here. But like every new convert in the Church, he now begins to build his own legacy, and to record his own history from which future generations will benefit. In years to come, I believe others will read about his experiences and his faithfulness, and it will help them.

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, one of our missionaries preached on that dream of Nebuchadnezzar in one of our meetings where we had some investigators, and I stood at the door to greet them as they went out. A man came up and introduced himself as a minister, and he said, “You don’t mean to tell me that you think that the Mormon Church is that kingdom, do you?”

And I said, “Yes, sir, why not?”

He said, “It couldn’t be.”

I said, “Why couldn’t it?”

He said, “You can’t have a kingdom without a king, and you don’t have a king, so you don’t have a kingdom.”

“Oh,” I said, “my friend, you didn’t read far enough. You just read the seventh chapter of Daniel, where Daniel saw one like the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven, ‘and there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him.’ (Dan. 7:14.)

“Now,” I said, “my friend, tell me how can the kingdom be given to him when he comes in the clouds of heaven if there is no kingdom prepared for him? That is what we Latter-day Saints are doing.”

Let me give you an example. Recently I asked Elder William W. Parmley about his memories of his mother, LaVern Parmley, who served as the Primary general president for 23 years. He didn’t refer to her talks at conferences or the many programs she implemented. He spoke of one of his sweetest moments when he was 17 and preparing to go away to college. He remembered sitting with his mother as she taught him how to sew on a button. With children of all ages, small and simple acts have lasting impact.

Gift of baptism. My companion and I had been teaching a 14-year-old girl named Martha, and she was nearly ready for baptism and confirmation. We had a few more lessons to teach, and she needed to stop working on Sundays so she could come to church. She loved what she was learning and believed it, but she worked for her aunt and was too young to get any other job. Martha struggled with the decision, so we taught her the blessings of the Sabbath day and encouraged her to pray.
Christmas Eve was a rainy day, and when it was almost time to go home, we felt we should stop by and say hello to Martha. Almost before we knocked on the door, she came running out and hugged us, jumping up and down with enthusiasm. She said, “I don’t have to work on Sundays anymore! I’m coming to church! I’m going to get baptized!” Even the rain seemed wonderful after that. Christmas Eve seemed like the perfect time to see someone make the decision to devote her life to Christ. We were two of the happiest missionaries you’ve ever seen.Erin B., Utah

Years ago I taught a seminary class filled with the “stars” of the senior class: Mr. Macho, the all-state quarterback, a heart-stopper of every young lady in school; little Miss Pep, the head varsity cheerleader; Mr. President, our student body leader; Mr. Most-Likely-to-Succeed; and Mr. Brains, a young man who had already been offered several full-ride scholarships to some pretty prestigious universities. One day we all learned a sorry lesson that almost any of us can bend to peer pressure. Here’s how it happened.
I had read a magazine article on negative peer pressure. The article described an experiment I was tempted to try on my class of “achievers.” The experiment was designed to show, in a very convincing way, how powerful peer pressure can be. It didn’t really occur to me that the experiment might have some negative consequences.
In class the next morning I did as instructed in the experiment. On the chalkboard I drew a star, a circle, an oval, and a square. I told my class that for the next 50 minutes, the objects on the board were to be identified as a star, a circle, an oval, and a triangle, even though the square was obviously a square. It was now to be called a triangle and nothing else! In a moment they would have an opportunity to convince an unsuspecting visitor that the square was actually a triangle.
Six fold-out seats were set in front of the classroom. Mr. Quarterback, Miss Pep, Mr. President, Mr. Most-Likely-to-Succeed, and Mr. Brains were invited to take their seats, leaving one vacant chair. I then invited a freshman student into the classroom. He immediately recognized that he was among the “elite” of the high school. The students made him welcome. In no time he was feeling right at home. He was with the “Who’s Who” of the school and was thriving on it.
I invited him to take a seat in the one remaining chair in front of the class. I explained that when it came his turn, he was to simply identify the objects drawn on the board. He agreed. The others smiled. The lesson began.
“Mr. Quarterback, will you identify the objects on the board?”
In a deep, macho voice he said, “Star, circle, oval,” and then, coming to the square, he confidently said, “Triangle.”
Our visitor, forgetting himself, let out a laugh that conveyed the idea, “You’ve been sacked a few too many times.” But the rest of the people in the room were absolutely silent.
The freshman quickly searched the faces of those present for acknowledgement of Mr. Quarterback’s obvious mental fumble, but my students were playing their parts. To them that square was nothing more than a triangle. Mr. Freshman had a bewildered expression.
I then turned to Miss Pep.
“Would you please identify the objects on the board?”
She enthusiastically replied, “Star, circle, oval, triangle.”
The freshman fidgeted in his seat.
The class remained silent and nonchalant. Twice more the question was asked. Mr. President and Mr. Most-Likely-to-Succeed answered in perfect form.
By now our visitor looked slightly ill and had that “may-I-please-be-dismissed” expression on his face.
“Star, circle, oval, triangle,” Mr. Brains answered.
Now it was Mr. Freshman’s turn. With each object his voice grew weaker, shakier, and less confident.
“Star … circle … oval …” Then silence.
We looked at him. He looked at us.
“What’s the last object?” I asked.
Silence.
“Come on, what is it?”
Then finally, quietly he spoke.
“Triangle.”
I thought we’d all break the tenseness with a good laugh. The experiment had worked. But instead there was silence.
I searched the students’ faces. They were all deep in thought. Some heads hung.
Then it hit me. Each one in the class could relate to the embarrassed freshman. Each in a foolish moment, wanting so badly to be accepted or to be part of the group, had in his own way called a square a triangle, had committed a wrong when there was no misunderstanding. Even I could add my name to the list. And we all realized, especially me, that we had been unkind to put Mr. Freshman in such an awkward situation.
We spent the remainder of our class time sharing feelings and regrets, but more importantly sharing desires, hopes, and longings to be more courageous. Mr. Quarterback put his arm around Mr. Freshman, and we all reassured him that we’d made the mistake of bowing to pressure before, too. By the end of the class he was accepted by his peers—not because he’d given in, but because we’d all come to see the importance of never surrendering, of calling a square a square despite the consequences.
When the bell rang, we left as a group, wiser, more hopeful, and with a greater resolve to fight a good battle amid the pressures of the world.

In 1997, during the 150th Sesquicentennial Anniversary of the arrival of the pioneers in the Salt Lake Valley, Sister Puzey and I were invited to ride our horses along as outriders for the wagon train that would be entering the Salt Lake Valley. We rode with the wagons and teams of horses in case there were problems.

One morning as we were working our way up a steep mountain pass, we came to a riverbed that was muddy and difficult to travel through. I moved up alongside the wagon that was about to cross the muddy riverbed and asked the experienced teamster driving what I might do to help. He calmly turned and assured me he would be fine and then added, "Always remember on a difficult trail to keep encouraging your horses on and never say 'whoa' in a mud hole." I have always remembered that wisdom in difficult times in my life: "Never say 'whoa' in a mud hole."

Even in situations where there is conflict, we can still be kind and feel kind—for example, in giving feedback to others.
I had a professor down at BYU who showed me one way to give feedback. I had a few classes from him as I was learning to be teacher. As he observed my mini-lessons and during my student teaching, he always shared what he observed. He never said this was effective or that was ineffective, but his observations let me reflect on what my objectives were and if I met those. One time, I was trying to use a video clip as a teaching aid following a teaching strategy he had demonstrated the previous semester. He shared what he saw me doing, related some of the questions I had asked the students and when I asked them. He gave his observations of the students’ responses, and asked if I thought I had met my objective with the activity. When I stated that, no, I didn’t think I used this strategy correctly, he agreed and gave some helpful tips. What he didn’t do was try and read my mind or place a value on me as a person. I didn’t hear, “You’re not a good teacher” or “You really messed up.” Similarly, he never said, “You’re a good teacher.” Though his questions led me to what he was trying to teach me, he ultimately let me decide if I was being effective.

Haroon sat under the lone acacia tree that spread out like a huge umbrella shielding him from the hot sun. He looked across the dreary Somali nomad settlement that was now his home.
Those round huts look a lot like the piles of grass I used to see donkeys bringing to market in Mogadishu, Somalia, he thought. His eyes held a faraway look. What’s Dad doing? he wondered. I wish I could be sitting with him at home, enjoying the sea breezes and eating Mom’s tasty bariis iyo maraq (rice with meat stew). Our house is big enough to live in. Here I must stoop to enter the aqal (huts). They’re just big enough for several of us to sleep in.
The land reaching to the horizon in every direction was as flat as the shallow winnowing basket he had watched Amina weave with strips of bark. Nearby there were a few low bushes around which the goats gathered like baby chicks around a mother hen. Farther away he could see the large herd of camels belonging to the settlement.
Everything was quite still as Haroon continued to think of home 800 kilometers to the south. Then he recalled the words of President Mohammed Siyad Barre. He had told the students before they were sent out to participate in this campaign to teach the people to read and write, “Haddaad taqaan bar, haddaadan aqoon baro (If you know, teach; if you don’t know, learn).”
Haroon had been sure he had much to teach the nomads. He was eager to take the skills of reading and writing the Somali language to the nomads who made up over 70 percent of the Somali people.
In August of 1974 the literacy campaign was taken to the nomads in the bush country. All schools, except technical schools and the senior classes, were closed for the year. Students fourteen years and older were sent into the bush to teach the nomads to read and write Somali.
Thousands of students were assigned to various sections of the nation. Haroon was one of these. He had stepped up to the official handing out the supplies. “Nabad miyaa,” he greeted.
“Haah waa nabad weeya,” came the cheerful answer. “Here is what you’ll need, Haroon: a blanket for cold bush nights; a folding blackboard that is used as box for the eraser, pens, pencils; a textbook; and a class register. Nabad gelyo. Llaah ha ku barakadeya (Go in peace with God’s blessing).”
Haroon began with great confidence, but he found the nomad chief was not interested in learning anything from a city youth who knew nothing about camels. Only the children and some women attended classes—sometimes.
Haroon longed for the comforts of his father’s house, especially plenty of water for showers. He longed for a chance to talk with friends, for most of the men here ignore him.
Just when he felt especially low in spirit, he met Osman, a former schoolmate, traveling with another group of nomads. Osman was bubbling with enthusiasm about the literacy campaign and all that he was learning from the nomads. “I even helped load the camels for this move,” he said with a grin. “I’d never touched a camel before. And do you know what?” Osman continued, stroking the flank of the animal near him. “This animal actually obeyed my command to get up after we had put on its load.”
After they parted, Haroon thought about Osman’s words and obvious enjoyment of his experience. I guess I’ve just been thinking of one part of the president’s challenge. I think I know so much the nomads should learn that I haven’t thought about learning anything from them. He softly repeated the president’s words, “Haddaad taqaan bar, haddaadan aquoon baro.” (If you know, teach; if you don’t know, learn.)
That night he moved closer to the men around the campfire. He was captivated by the stories Chief Abdi told of Somali heroes of the past. Just before he fell asleep, he thought, I ought to write those stories in Somali. But the next day there was no time for classes nor for story writing, for the clan had to move to find more pasture.
Haroon tried to be helpful. By the time they got settled in their new location, he was feeling as though he were almost a part of the group. However, he was also feeling sick with a fever. He did not complain, but when Chief Abdi heard about his sickness, he was concerned. He sent a young man to find a special plant that was used for a fever medicine. To Haroon he said, “Perhaps you want to return to your father. Life in the bush is hard.”
But Haroon was determined to remain, now as eager to learn as to teach. After his recovery, when the chief observed Haroon’s genuine desire to learn of the nomadic way of life, he became more friendly. He ordered his people to attend classes.
Sometimes in the afternoon when the youths gathered under the spreading branches of an acacia tree, the camels shared the shade. It was very different from the classroom in the city where Haroon had studied English. Here the blackboard hung on a tree. And the strong, acrid odor of camels hung on the dusty air.
Some of the nomads were keen students and helped others. Little children chanted the alphabet as they herded goats. They wrote the letters in the dust while goats nibbled whatever they could find.
One evening when the full moon shone over the settlement, Haroon read to the group a story the chief had told some weeks earlier. The men sat enthralled, realizing in a way for the first time that these marks could tell a familiar story.
Chief Abdi was thoughtful as Haroon finished. “That is good, Haroon,” he said. “If we write our history, our children will not forget. I must learn this writing also.”
Chief Abdi became an earnest pupil, and with his constant encouragement, others came more regularly.
Later in Mogadishu, there was a big celebration when Haroon and thousands of other boys and girls returned to the capital after eight months among the nomads. Crowds lined the streets to welcome them and to celebrate the completion of one more phase in the fight against illiteracy.
The schools opened and these youths returned to being students again. But there was a difference. The experiences in the bush had changed them and increased their appreciation and understanding about some of the problems their country was facing. Many now had a growing respect for the skills of the nomads who could survive in the harsh desert. They also had a greater appreciation for the Somali nomadic culture of their ancestors.
Six months later Haroon was walking home from school one day through the noisy city streets when he suddenly caught the strong, unmistakable scent of a herd of camels. Memories rushed into his mind. Then he saw the herd come around the corner at the end of the block. They jostled each other as cars and taxis honked their horns. A bushman was bringing a herd to the slaughterhouse. Haroon went to talk to the nomad and found he knew Chief Abdi’s clan very well.
The man handed Haroon a letter showing signs of being carried many days in the folds of the man’s skirt. Haroon opened it and read greetings from many in the clan. It was written by the hand of Chief Abdi himself. He thanked Haroon for teaching him and his people.
Haroon was happy to know that Abdi was also following the president’s words: “If you know, teach; if you don’t know, learn.”

Where should we come? Who should we follow? The Savior tells us: “Come, follow me” (Luke 18:22; emphasis added). When Harmony left home for trek, she saw the Lord’s hand in her experience. She knew she was following Him.
Harmony C.
Harmony’s path to her stake trek was different from others’ paths. At age 15 she learned that she had a rare form of skin cancer. She wasn’t able to participate in her stake trek. “I was devastated,” she recalled.
Four years later, when her stake announced another trek, Harmony was free of cancer. But at age 19, she thought she wouldn’t be able to go. Then she received a calling to participate as a leader. She said, “It’s a testimony to me that the Lord knows who we are, and He knows the desires of our hearts, and if they’re righteous and good, He’ll bless us.”
Harmony offered advice to help us when we face trials: “To anyone who’s struggling, I’d say just to lean on the Lord. He’s always there for you. He loves us, and He won’t let us fall. We just need to reach out our hand to Him, and He will help us on our pioneer journey.”

Perhaps one of the choir’s most meaningful opportunities to help came in the wake of a tragedy. In June 1998 a gas leak ignited and destroyed the homeless shelter. The explosion killed 3 people and injured 33 others. Within months, however, the community had donated a large amount of money. The choir made a major contribution in the fund-raising effort, staging more than a dozen concerts to raise money for the new building. In the place of the old, rundown structure, a modest new shelter was built.

At the university where I used to study, there was a young man who persecuted me because I am a member of the Church. He always wanted to contend, so I just tried to avoid him. Then one day I bore my testimony to him, and he quit persecuting me. We should always stay firm and remember how our testimonies were gained. We should react with self-control so the Holy Spirit may always be with us and strengthen us, no matter what others may say or think. We should pray for those people so that someday they may receive Jesus Christ.
Brezka E., age 21, Valparaíso, Chile

Brethren, it is a great thrill to think that we are part of a congregation of 225,000 men and boys. Some of you are a little darker, some of you have slant eyes, but you are all men and brethren, and we love you. We are grateful that you are associated with us tonight in this great meeting.
You have been hearing some very solid, firm doctrine here tonight. I want to begin by telling you a story. I suppose all of you young men learned the Articles of Faith before you became a member of the priesthood. I am wondering if you have retained in your mind those articles. I wonder if you know them word-perfect. Would you like to tell your fathers when you go home, if you know the Articles of Faith word-perfect?
Some years ago a young Primary boy was on a train going to California in the days when we traveled on trains. He was all alone. He sat near the window watching the telephone poles go by. Across the aisle from him was a gentleman who also was going to California. The attention of the gentleman was called to this very young boy traveling all alone without friends or relatives. He was neatly dressed and well-behaved. And this gentleman was quite impressed with him.
Finally, after some time, the gentleman crossed the aisle and sat down by the young man and said to him, “Hello, young man, where are you going?”
He said, “I am going to Los Angeles.”
“Do you have relatives there?”
The boy said, “I have some relatives there. I am going to visit my grandparents. They will meet me at the station, and I will stay with them a few days during the school vacation.”
The next questions were “Where did you come from?” and “Where do you live?”
And the boy said, “Salt Lake City, Utah.”
“Oh, then,” said the gentleman, “you must be a Mormon.”
And the boy said, “Yes, I am.” There was pride in his voice.
The gentleman said, “Well, that’s interesting. I’ve wondered about the Mormons and what they believe. I’ve been through their beautiful city; I’ve noticed the beautiful buildings, the treelined streets, the lovely homes, the beautiful rose and flower gardens, but I’ve never stopped to find out what makes them as they are. I wish I knew what they believe.”
And the boy said to him, “Well, sir, I can tell you what they believe. ‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.’” (A of F 1:1.
The businessman was a bit surprised but listened intently, and the boy continued, “‘We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.’” (A of F 1:2.)
And the traveling companion thought, “This is rather unusual for a mere boy to know these important things.”
The boy went on: “‘We believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.’” (A of F 1:3.) And the gentleman was amazed at the knowledge and understanding of a mere boy—he was yet to be a Scout. But he continued and gave the fourth Article of Faith and said, “‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.’”
“That is wonderful,” said the gentleman. “I am amazed that you know so well the doctrines of your church. I commend you.”
With a good start and with encouragement, Johnny continued. “‘We believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands, by those who are in authority to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.’” (A of F 1:5.)
“That’s very solid doctrine, my boy,” the gentleman said. “I am curious now to know how they get called of God. I can understand how they would receive the call and be established with the laying on of hands, but I wonder who has the authority to preach the gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.”
They discussed the matter of calling and sustaining and laying on of hands. Then the lad said, “Would you like to know more?”
The gentleman thought that was very unusual for a boy in these tender years to know what the Church taught, and he said, “Yes, go on.”
So Johnny quoted, “‘We believe in the same organization that existed in the Primitive Church, viz., apostles, prophets, pastors, teachers, evangelists, etc.’” (A of F 1:6.)
That brought some other discussion. “You mean that your church has apostles such as James and John and Peter and Paul, and prophets such as Moses, Abraham, Isaac, and Daniel, and also evangelists?”
And the boy responded quickly, “Yes, even evangelists. We call them patriarchs and they are appointed in all parts of the Church where there are stakes. And by inspiration they give to all the members of the Church, as required, what is called a patriarchal blessing. I have already had my patriarchal blessing, and I read it frequently. Now we have twelve apostles who have the same calling and the same authority as given to the apostles in the days of old.”
The gentleman came back with these questions: “Do you speak in tongues? Do you believe in revelations and prophecies?”
And the boy brightened up as he quoted, “‘We believe in the gift of tongues, prophecy, revelation, visions, healing, interpretation of tongues, etc.’” (A of F 1:7.)
The gentleman gasped. “This sounds like you believe in the Bible!”
And the boy repeated again, “We do. ‘We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; we also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God.’” (A of F 1:8.)
The gentleman discerned that we believe both in the scriptures and in revelation. And the boy quoted, “‘We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.’” (A of F 1:9.) And then he continued, “‘We believe [also] in the literal gathering of Israel and in the restoration of the Ten Tribes; that Zion will be built upon this [the American] continent; that Christ will reign personally upon the earth; and, that the earth will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal glory.’” (A of F 1:10.)
The gentleman was listening intently. He showed no interest in crossing the aisle back to his own seat. Then Johnny came in again. He said, “‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.’” (A of F 1:11.) He then continued, “‘We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.’” (A of F 1:12.)
And then as a final contribution, the boy repeated the thirteenth Article of Faith. “‘We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.’”
This youngster relaxed now as he finished the Articles of Faith. The gentleman was clearly excited, not only at the ability of this young boy to outline the whole program of the Church, but at the very completeness of its doctrine.
He said, “You know, after I have been to Los Angeles a couple of days, I expect to go back to New York where my office is. I am going to wire my company that I will be a day or two late and that I am going to stop in Salt Lake City en route home and go to the information bureau there and hear all the things, in more detail, about what you have told me.”
I am wondering how many of you know the Articles of Faith? How many of you big men, as well as the little men? Do you know them? Have you repeated them? You are always prepared with a sermon when you know the Articles of Faith. And they are basic, aren’t they? I would think it would be a wonderful thing if all the boys, as they learn them, would learn them word perfect. That means that you don’t miss and you don’t forget.
Shall I tell you how I did it? I think I have told you before, but I used to milk cows. I typed with two fingers, and I would type out these Articles of Faith on little cards and put them down in the corral right by me when I sat on the one-legged stool and milked the cows. And I repeated them over, I guess 20 million times. I don’t know. But at any rate, I have claimed that I could say the Articles of Faith now after these many, many years and could say them word-perfect. And I think it has been most valuable to me. Will you do that, my fine young men?

My husband and I had been praying for another baby before we found out we were expecting. “Excited” hardly describes how we felt. Adding to our joy was the news that a friend’s baby was due the day before mine, and my sister-in-law’s baby was due four days later. Almost immediately, we started planning the play dates.
Nine weeks into my pregnancy, however, I started having seizures. Terrified, my husband and I rushed to the hospital for an ultrasound. At my appointment, I eagerly looked to the monitor and asked the technician if my baby was OK. He didn’t respond as he turned the monitor away from me.
I didn’t want to expect the worst, but when the technician left the room, fear seized me. I began to pray in a way I had never realized I could, asking for something—anything—that could give me peace.
Instantly, I was enveloped in a warm embrace and heard the “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:12) reassure me that all would be well. I felt comforted and calm as I waited for the doctor to give me answers.
When the doctor arrived, he gently told my husband and me that our baby had died. Instantly, I again felt the Spirit’s warm embrace. I hurt, but I could not doubt the feeling that comforted me.
As I grieved during the following weeks, I turned to my Heavenly Father in frequent prayer. The calming reassurance of the Holy Ghost never left, and I knew that the Lord was watching over me. I gained a deeper understanding of the Atonement of Jesus Christ as I felt the Savior’s healing balm. On days when I felt I could not function, I could feel angelic hands bearing me up.
My husband and I prayed for continued comfort. We were both still sad, but neither of us doubted that through His Atonement, the Savior could cover our pain and loss.
This experience was incredibly difficult. At times it was almost too great to bear. But I am eternally grateful for the relationship I developed with my Heavenly Father and my Savior through this experience. Prayer can be one of our greatest resources.
I know that Heavenly Father really does care for His children and that He and His Son “will not leave [us] comfortless” (John 14:18).

Just before the San Salvador El Salvador Temple was dedicated, my family and I decided to serve at the open house and help those who were not members become acquainted with the gospel of Jesus Christ as they visited the temple. I was assigned to be a guide and speak with people about each room in the temple, the sacred covenants we make there, and how our lives change when we keep those covenants.
My shift came, and I started my tour. I had just barely gone out of the room when someone requested an additional guide since a large group had just arrived. I was told to go back to the greeting room to have another group assigned to me.
When I reached the room, I was again asked to change my assignment and show a video to people who were just arriving at the temple. I felt sad that I wasn’t able to speak with people and tell them about the temple.
About half an hour later, a group from the United States arrived who didn’t speak any Spanish. Several volunteers were running around looking for someone who spoke English and could guide this group. That’s when I understood that the Lord sends us where He needs us, not necessarily where we want to be. I was the only one who knew how to use the video and give the words of welcome in English. The Americans were glad and when they were leaving, they thanked me for receiving them so warmly.
At the end of the day, I felt thankful to the Lord for showing me that when we do things the way He prompts us, we will feel satisfied with our work.
Erick A., El Salvador

My wife, Ruby, and I recently celebrated our sixty-fifth wedding anniversary. We were married in the Salt Lake Temple on September 4, 1930. The next morning we went up to see her mother on M Street in Salt Lake City to bid her good-bye. And as part of those tender moments, she fixed a little basket for us to put in the car. She said to me, “David, promise me that you’ll take good care of Ruby.” And I said, “I promise.” I remind Ruby periodically that someday I’m going to meet her mother, and I hope I will be able to look her straight in the eye and say, “I think maybe I’ve done it.”
Ruby and I were married the right way, sealed in the temple with its divine covenants and commitments that promote trustworthiness, faithfulness, devotion, and dedication. Now, after sixty-five wonderful years, we look back on our time together and realize that it gets better as time goes on.