Gospel Story Finder

I grew up in a home where my father was not a member of the Church and my mother was less active. That all changed later, and they spent much of their life as temple workers. With that background I didn’t know much about the Church, even though I thought I did. When I was about to graduate from the university, the Lord dropped an atomic bomb in my life. Her name was Jeanene Watkins. She was a beautiful girl. It took me a long time to date her because so many others recognized her wonderful qualities. As we began to date, I discovered that she was all I had ever dreamed of finding. I fell completely in love with her. I could tell she had deep feelings for me also. One night, when we were talking about the future, she carefully wove into the conversation an important comment. She said, “When I marry, it will be to a returned missionary in the temple.” I don’t remember anything else she said. I hadn’t thought much about a mission and didn’t understand much about temple marriage. I went home and couldn’t think of anything else. I was awake all night. I couldn’t do anything at the university the next day. Soon I was at the bishop’s office, having prayed about the importance of a mission. We both went on missions, and when we returned were sealed in the temple. Much later I came to realize that she would have left me had I not made the right choices. Jeanene’s courage in standing up for her dream of a temple marriage to a returned missionary, regardless of her love for me, has made all of the difference in our lives together. I will never be able to thank her adequately for not compromising her righteous dreams.

One man I came to know in the business world truly exhibited Christ-like values. Tom Monahan. Tom was an orphan. He was raised in a Catholic orphanage in Michigan. He was admitted to the University of Michigan. After studying there for a few semesters, he found that he could no longer afford the tuition and board, even with his scholarship. So, he decided to drop out and buy a pizza shop close to campus. He put up $200 for his half of the business–that’s about $2,000 in today's dollars— and his brother sold his Volkswagen to come up with $200 for the other half. A few months later, his brother sold out and asked for his $200 back.

Tom was pretty successful. He grew his pizza shop with new locations. Today, you know his company as Domino’s Pizza. It has 21,500 shops around the world.

When he became wealthy, he began to buy some of the things he had always wanted.

He bought dozens of vintage automobiles. He built a massive new office for himself in the Domino’s office building. He even bought the Detroit Tigers baseball team. They won the World Series in the first year he acquired them.

And then it hit him. He was not living by the principles and values that he had been taught in the orphanage, by the values of his Christian faith. Tom sold his cars, sold the baseball team, and moved his office to a desk next to his secretary. He even decided to sign the Millionaire’s Vow of Poverty in which he promised he would not own a luxury car nor fly first class. Finally, he decided to sell his company.

My firm decided to buy it from him. I got to do something I had never done before or since: I made out a check for over one billion dollars and signed it.

I did not expect him to do what he did next. He turned it over and then signed all that money over to Catholic charities and to Ave Maria University in Florida, a college he founded to promote the ideals of Jesus Christ.

Tom’s was one of the most sudden transformations from worldly values to Christian values that I had ever seen, first-hand. And in a small way, it reminded me of the transformation of Paul the Apostle. Tom’s commitment to his core values inspired me to do so more fully myself.

A few years ago, a 19-month-old girl, Hope Gentile, was diagnosed with a tumor in her lower back. “Over the next five months of surgeries and chemotherapy,” Hope’s father, Nicholas, said, “Hope’s battle for life created a kaleidoscope of experiences.”
One night during Hope’s second five-day round of chemotherapy, Brother Gentile noticed how much hair she had lost. Her remaining strawberry blonde wisps painfully reminded him of her mortality. Nevertheless, he found solace in the Lord’s promise that “a hair of [her] head shall not fall to the ground unnoticed” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:116).
“I felt that Jesus Christ was deeply aware of Hope’s journey—and our heartache,” Brother Gentile said. “He did ‘not leave [us] comfortless’” (John 14:18).
During bedtime one evening as he read a board book to Hope, Brother Gentile asked in a silly voice, “What does the owl say?” Giggling, Hope replied, “Hoo, hoo!” Then he asked, “What does the cow say?” Hope proudly responded, “Moo, moo!”
At that moment, a picture of the Savior in Hope’s bedroom caught Brother Gentile’s attention. The Spirit prompted him to ask, “Hope, and what does Jesus say?”
Hope snuggled into his shoulder, opened her big blue eyes, and whispered, “‘Hold you.’ Jesus says, ‘Hold you.’”
Brother Gentile gently hugged Hope’s tiny body and deeply sobbed. As Hope hugged back, she whispered, “Love you, Dada.”
Jesus will hold us and bless us during our trials if we let Him.
Hope’s trial and uncertain future drew Brother Gentile, his wife, Christina, and their family closer—to each other and to the Savior. “Jesus was holding our family in His loving arms,” Brother Gentile said. “I have pondered the tender truth God taught me through my daughter’s words: Jesus will hold us and bless us during our trials if we let Him.”1
Hope Gentile, four days before her first chemotherapy treatment in March 2015.
I am happy to report that the Gentile family’s faith and prayers were answered. Today, Hope is a healthy, happy 10-year-old.

I love being a missionary. It has brought so much joy to my life. But I have to tell the truth. Being in the mission field is tough, and since I’ve been here, I’ve been feeling a little inadequate. One day when I was feeling down, I picked up the June 2000 New Era special issue about missionary work, and I immediately felt the spirit of the MTC come back to me. The Spirit comforted me and gave me a great desire to serve. Having the Spirit, along with hard work, makes a missionary happy. Thanks for helping me when I felt a little down.
Elder Joshua LindsayArizona Tempe Mission

I received this really interesting letter about a protective alarm experienced by a faithful sister. She told me that in an effort to help her husband understand how she felt, she began to keep an electronic list on her phone of things he did or said that irritated her. She reasoned that when the time was right, she would have compiled written proof to share with him that would make him want to change his ways. However, one Sunday while partaking of the sacrament and focusing on the Atonement of the Savior, she realized that documenting her negative feelings about her husband was truly driving the Spirit from her and was never going to change him.
A spiritual alarm went off in her heart that said: “Let it go; let it all go. Delete those notes. They are not helpful.” She then wrote, and I quote: “It took me a while to hit ‘select all’ and even longer to hit ‘delete.’ But as I did, all of those negative feelings were lost in space. My heart filled with love—love for my husband and love for the Lord.” Like Saul on the road to Damascus, she had her vision changed. The scales of distortion fell from her eyes.

The traveler waved off most of the dinner trays during the long and tiring thirteen-hour flight from Miami, Florida, to Buenos Aires, Argentina, in October 1983. More interested in filling his mind than his stomach, he was reading a book his son had given to him on his birthday, In Search of Excellence.
Elder Charles Didier of the First Quorum of the Seventy was flying to South America as the Church’s Executive Administrator over Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay. Before his airplane arrived in Buenos Aires, he had read through much of the book, then taken time to rest and to consider the work awaiting him.
It was typical of the man. In every project he has undertaken for the Church since he was baptized at twenty-two in his native Belgium, Charles Didier has been thoroughly absorbed and enthusiastic—a man joyfully doing good things in life.
Born in Ixelles, Belgium, 5 October 1935, Charles Didier recalls that his father, Andre, a Belgian Army officer, was captured at the beginning of World War II. After escaping, he stayed hidden and saw his family only during occasional surprise visits. Elder Didier looks back on a time after his own ninth birthday:
“Because the secret police were looking for him [his father], we were searched—and barely escaped. We went to where he was hiding in Antwerp Province, and from there to live with my great-grandmother in Flanders.” Then Belgium was liberated. “I vividly remember the soldiers trying to get away on bicycles, the airplanes coming, the shooting, and the Allied troops coming into the village.”
Like those around him, young Charles was educated in Catholic doctrine as a boy. He attended mass regularly, the only one in his family to do so.
In 1950, while the family was living in Namur, Belgium, and Charles was finishing junior high school, two Latter-day Saint missionaries from the United States knocked on their door. His mother, Gabrielle, let them in and listened. During Easter vacation of the following year, she was baptized in a little font in Brussels, but Charles missed the baptism. He was in Rome to see the Pope on a trip organized by the Catholic church.
Although Charles resisted invitations to attend the local branch, he did attend an English club taught by the missionaries, leaving before the evening’s youth activities started because he “didn’t want to be trapped.” But he was asked to take part in a branch play, and then his mother persuaded him to attend church with her on a Sunday. Soon his sister, Jacqueline, was baptized. When Charles left home to go to the university in Liège, he says, “I attended youth activities from time to time. I did some little things all the time but did not want to participate. I was very shy. I really did not want to be in front of people.”
Then missionary Elder Dewitt Paul challenged him, asking why he would not be baptized, since he was “doing everything a member does,” Elder Didier recalls.
“I said I didn’t see the necessity. I had a good life. I could attend and not have responsibilities. He said, ‘Let’s pray about the Book of Mormon, about Joseph Smith. Then if you have a testimony, I think you’ll recognize that you need to be baptized.’
“And so we prayed about it. I got up from that prayer with a testimony—an answer to my prayers. It was nothing like a light, a voice—just a reassuring influence: ‘Go ahead and do it. There is wisdom. This is my commandment.’” In November 1957, Charles was baptized in a swimming pool in Brussels by Elder Paul.
Traveling between Liège and Namur, he continued his studies at the University of Liège, graduating in 1959 with a degree in economics. Then he entered the reserve officer training program of the Belgian Air Force, finishing his military service as a lieutenant and radar supervisor.
A short time later, stationed only a few kilometers from Liège, he had time to go out with a brown-eyed girl he had met in the Liège Branch, Lucie Lodomez. She had served as a missionary in France with his sister Jacqueline.
When his military service was completed, Lucie and Charles were married in Liège (they were sealed in the Swiss Temple in 1962) and moved into a tiny apartment there. Charles progressed through his job with a timber products importing company, and both he and Lucie grew through Church service. He received more and more responsibility in the Church, eventually becoming president of the 100-member branch in Liège.
But after five years of working in Liège, Charles was restless. He started investigating the possibilities of teaching or continuing his education. Then came “another answer to prayer.” He was asked to move to Frankfurt, Germany, to work as assistant to John E. Carr, director of temporal affairs for the Church in Europe.
The move lasted only nine months. He was asked to go back to Liège and take over the Church distribution center. Upon his return he was immediately called again as Liège Branch president.
Then in March 1970 came the surprise of Charles Didier’s life, through a telephone call from Salt Lake City:
“It was President N. Eldon Tanner on the telephone. ‘The Lord is calling you to be a mission president. Are you ready to leave in three months and go wherever the Lord will call you?’ I said, ‘Yes.’”
Those unexpected telephone calls continued to influence his life. Three years later, shortly before he was to be released as president of the France-Switzerland Mission, there was another telephone call, this time from President Marion G. Romney. Elder Didier was called as a regional representative and at the same time appointed area manager in translation and distribution of Church materials for all of Europe.
Then, in October 1975 while he was attending conference in Salt Lake City, Elder Didier received a telephone call that President Spencer W. Kimball wanted to see him. He was called to be a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy that was to be organized.
“There are some things you plan for the future, certain things you imagine will happen to you. But when that calling of General Authority comes, you close the door and say, ‘Now I am in the hands of the Lord 100 percent. I’ll do what he asks me to do.’”
Elder Didier became the Church’s Executive Administrator for Europe, presiding over fourteen missions, from Brussels. Later, he would be assigned to supervise the Church’s activities in Canada, then, in 1981, to supervise the missions and stakes in Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay. With the calling of thirteen new Area Presidencies in 1984, he assumed duties as president of the South America North Area which originally included Brazil, but is now comprised of Ecuador, Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, Bolivia, Surinam, Guyana, and French Guyana. Elder Didier resides in Quito, capital of Ecuador.
Though his duties as a General Authority take a lot of time and work, he still pursues a variety of interests—including gardening, fishing, watercolor painting, cooking, and reading—because he believes that you have to keep a good balance in life. His interest in linguistics is a valuable asset; in addition to his native French, he speaks English, German, Dutch, and Spanish.
A slim, agile man, Elder Didier keeps himself in good physical condition. He believes his efforts to stay in good health help him withstand the rigors of travel required of a General Authority. He and Elder Gene R. Cook of the First Quorum of the Seventy often play racketball. Observes Elder Cook:
“He’s really a good athlete. He swims a lot, can do thirty or forty laps easily. He exercises every day.”
Part of that exercise comes through physical labor. Reed Heywood, bishop of the Didiers’ home ward (Ensign Fourth, Salt Lake Ensign Stake) recalls that when Elder Didier and his sons built their home, they hauled in rocks and built a retaining wall, working to make the yard beautiful.
“I believe in the value of physical work. I need it,” Elder Didier comments. “I am secluded in an office or in meetings when I am in Salt Lake City or in South America—for eight to nine hours every day. I have a lot of energy, so I like to spend that energy in racketball, or swimming, or painting, or gardening in the summer. I believe what President Kimball said, that we need a vegetable garden. We planted twenty-three fruit trees. I love to be back close to nature and have my hands in the soil.”
His approach to trout fishing is indicative not only of a love of nature, but also of his approach to many activities in life. He goes fishing with those who know more than he, so he can improve. “I believe I have a lot to learn, that I can learn from any individual.”
One of those he learned much from was his mother. She was, he recalls, a “great cook.” His chocolate dessert is a family tradition.
In November of 1983 he flew to California to attend the Fair Oaks Stake conference. Arriving early at the stake president’s home, he was taken on a tour of the family’s vegetable garden.
“I saw that he had leeks, a very popular vegetable in Belgium. Not having grown them before, the president wasn’t sure how to prepare them. I said, ‘Let’s make soup.’ So that Saturday evening after our conference meetings, with the stake president in the kitchen, we prepared leek soup to serve twenty-two people the next day—the high council and other stake leaders. I think I’ll be remembered there as a soup maker rather than a General Authority!”
Another thing Elder Didier shares happily is himself, in service to others. Says his son Patrick: “He will dedicate his time to help someone in need as much as he can.”
Venice Rogers, a neighbor, adds, “He is very tender with children.”
Once while the Rogers were out of town on vacation, Charles and Lucie Didier wall-papered the room of teenager Elizabeth Rogers—as a surprise. Elizabeth was overwhelmed.
Elder Didier plays his own version of “elevator” with the children of another neighbor. When they push the top button on his suit coat, he lifts them up. When they push the bottom button, he puts them back down.
One of the ways Elder Didier serves is through doing “missionary work” for his ancestors. During the past few years, he has spent many hours in the genealogical library researching his parents’ and wife’s family lines, sometimes spending two to three hours at night. “I’m still working on this, but I have had some real success. We have all the information to finish our four-generation sheets. The next step is to present it to the temple.”
Despite his accomplishments, Elder Didier sees much in which he could improve.
Being a General Authority, he concedes, is “a daily examination for you and your family members.”
“You are an official representative of the Church. Usually members think you know everything, which is not the case. You always have to try to keep up with the sacred calling and live up to the expectations of the people, as well as the expectations of the Lord, which are much more important. That is quite a challenge.”
With that challenge in mind, what are his goals?
First, to be able to give his family the best of himself.
Second, “to represent the Lord the way he would like me to represent him, to establish his kingdom the way he would establish it.”

An incident in the life of Joseph F. Smith bears out this point.

In the fall of 1857, the 19 year old Joseph F. was returning from his mission Hawaii, and in California he joined a wagon train. It was a volatile time for the Saints. Johnston’s army was marching toward Utah, and many had bitter feelings toward the church. One evening several hoodlums rode into camp, cursing and threatening to hurt every Mormon they could find. Most in the wagon train hid in the brush down by a nearby creek. But young Joseph F. thought to himself “Should I run from these fellows? Why should I fear them?” With that he marched up with his arm full of wood to the campfire where one of the ruffians still with his pistol in his hand, shouting and cursing about the ‘Mormons’, in a loud voice said to Joseph F. ‘Are you a Mormon?’ And the answer came strait, ‘Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.’ At that the ruffian grasps him by the hand and said: ‘Well, you are the (blanket-blank) pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.’”

Third, testify of holy truths as often as you can. The Comforter always shares His voice when we testify with our voice. The Spirit bears witness to the speaker and listener alike.

I remember once taking a 45-minute taxi ride in New York City. Having had a warm gospel conversation with the driver for the duration of my ride to the airport, I paid her and prepared to exit the taxi. Then I realized I had not offered a testimony of what I had shared. Pausing, I shared a simple, short testimony, inviting the Spirit and bringing tears to both our eyes.

It has become easy to shock people. I remember once a lady asked my mom, “Are all these kids yours?” We just looked at her and said, “Of course not, lady. She checks us out of the library.” I admit that being in a large family can cause a little bit of commotion. People always stop and stare or look at us funny. Maybe it’s because there are so many of us, or maybe it’s because the colors of skin don’t seem to mix or match.
Many people would have a hard time dealing with this, but not my dad. He usually just tries to pass us off as a Sunday School class or birthday party when we are in public.
A family the size of Helaman’s army does have its advantages. If we want to play basketball, it doesn’t take long to divide up into two teams. By the time we graduate from junior high school we are highly skilled in mass food production. How many of you have ever seen a five-pound bucket of peanut butter disappear by Thursday? How many of you can make ten lunches in ten minutes or less? Do you know what a pan filled with two dozen scrambled eggs looks like?
For all of you who are wondering, I can clue you in about the lunches real quick. The key here is speed. Grab ten lunch sacks and write the kids’ names on them. If you forget one, just refer to the handy chart inside the cupboard door. Then get out 20 pieces of bread and put them on the counter. Blob mayonnaise on each piece and spread with one hand while using your other hand to put ham on every other piece. Now go back and put a piece of cheese on the other slice of bread. Match up a ham and cheese and the hard part is finished. Grab an apple, some carrots, and a drink. Throw them in the sack with a napkin, and you are finished. This has been done in seven minutes and 37 seconds, and my record has stood for three years!
Speaking of food, my mom truly considers fast Sunday a day of rest since that is the only Sunday she doesn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to get us to church 15 minutes late.
Another great advantage of a big family is that unless you are the oldest child, you can usually find a pair of shoes that almost fit. But this advantage has backfired. Can you imagine the horror on my mom’s face as she looked down the aisle in sacrament meeting to see my little sister Amaris in her white chiffon dress with dirty purple tennis shoes flopping on her feet?
In sacrament meeting we take up the entire first row. Over half of our ward’s Mutual is my family. I can’t tell you how exciting it is to go to a stake dance to find that your brothers are four of the ten guys that showed up.
When most moms make a birthday list of what they want, it usually includes things like perfume, jewelry, or maybe a sweater. But my mom’s recent birthday list included a set of scriptures without the baby’s Cheerios smashed in between the pages and a new pancake griddle which can accommodate ten pancakes at once. Her ultimate desire is to remodel our dining room with sloping floors, drains, and automatic water, spigots in the ceiling. I guess dinners at our house are a bit messy.
On Saturdays, when many dads are asleep, reading the paper, or watching the Wide World of Sports on TV, my dad is constantly repairing bike tires, helping out the Cub Scout pack (we only need two more to have our own), or going to the wholesale food outlet to do our weekly grocery shopping.
You’d think that turning 16 would be a festive event in our family. Well, if we can handle the horror of the transportation my dad offers us, then we will probably survive the dating scene. Our family has three cars from which to choose—the 1971 Chevy Impala which works most of the time (my friends dubbed it “the Beast”), my mom’s beatup brown station wagon complete with Popsicle sticks stuck to the ceiling, and the 15-passenger family van. Needless to say, when the Beast is working, I usually drive it. My dad has presented me with three things to keep it moving—jumper cables, a screwdriver, and an up-to-date Triple-A card.
Now for the dating scene. Once my date passes the “date with Shannon interview,” my mom must see him blessing the sacrament, and then he must deal with the harassment and questions from my younger brothers and sisters. “Do you really like my sister?” “Do you always dress like that?” “Did you know my sister really likes Brad better than you?” I figure anyone who comes back twice must be a true friend.
When the family really needs to get away from it all and get a little bit of rest and relaxation, we go camping. We drive our van, which pulls a tent trailer, and take a second car, which pulls a U-Haul filled with four pup tents and 14 bikes. By the time we get it all set up, it’s time to go home. Besides, it is getting to the point where we have to rent three campsites.
One time we really splurged and got to stay in a hotel. The only problem was that we didn’t have enough suitcases to go around. So my dad nonchalantly plopped the black garbage bags used to hold extra clothes along with the suitcases on the cart for the bellhop to take up to the room.
One of the hardest things to deal with is Christmas. You thought you had it hard because your mom made you wait until 7:00 A.M. to begin opening your presents? Well, that’s the easy part at my house. No matter what time we start, it’s usually three or four hours later before we finish. My mom insists that we open our presents one by one so we can “enjoy the other children’s exuberance.” I don’t know about you, but there is only so much excitement I can get from watching the wrappings being peeled off another doll or Tonka truck. By the time it gets to me, I have to brush off the cobwebs.
Valentine’s Day is another fine day I could do without. My mom insists that homemade Valentines show more thought and care. Usually on February 13 at about 10:00 P.M., you can find one mom, dad, and big sister cutting out pink, red and white hearts numbers 412, 413, and 414. It’s a never-ending battle.
Easter—18 dozen eggs later—you wish there were no such things as chickens or bunnies. And by the time I hop around the yard trying to find a place to hide all of them, I usually get pretty tired of it and shove a whole carton of them in the mailbox. But that’s not half as bad as the defrosted egg salad sandwiches we eat for two whole weeks!
The only regret my parents have is that we don’t yet qualify for a group rate at Disneyland. But hey, we are only two short now. Our home teachers hope we don’t adopt any more children very soon because after a year they finally have all of our names memorized.
My mom never has been very good at handiwork, so when she finished cross-stitching a family tree with our names on it, we were all impressed. But that was five kids ago, and she doesn’t have time to fix it, so she has taken to adding Post-it notes around the edges.
There are times that make it all worthwhile. I don’t think there is an experience comparable to having an adopted sibling sealed to our family in the temple. No matter how many times we’ve been, it’s always neat to hear that we will be a family for all eternity.
Whenever we do baptisms for the dead, I get really excited knowing that five of my brothers and sisters are in the temple with me.
Besides all of that, I have the biggest fan club in town. It really makes me feel good to know that 13 people in the audience are really proud of me.
This summer I went to Denmark, and I actually began to miss my family (except for the 6:00 A.M. Saturday morning “Smurf’s are on” call). When I returned and stepped off the airplane, there they were—13 people screaming, “Shannon’s back!”
As I wandered through the house in the middle of the night suffering from jet lag, I saw the ten-pound bucket of butter in the refrigerator, stumbled over the assorted pairs of mismatched shoes in the front entry, and opened my lipstick tubes to find that they had all been bitten off or smashed down, and I smiled and said to myself, “I’m home.”

Playing basketball has been really good and helped me gain some friends. There is a park next to our house and it makes me feel more motivated to get out and shoot, to get really good at basketball. For school we were playing, and I played really well against a team. Two days later I found out that they offered me a spot on an all-state team, which is a really big deal. We did some research and realized that they play on Sundays, and so it just never really crossed my mind to play there after that.

We don’t have a lot of youth in our ward. As far as the young men it’s me, two other priests, and about five deacons. Our leaders like to take us out each month to visit and see the youth that don’t come and invite them to youth activities. It’s just cool to see how much the leaders think about others.

Our ward has been really focused on goals because of the new Children and Youth program. We had a combined youth activity that involved all four areas! Each area had a different activity attached. I was in charge of focusing on the physical goal activity, so we played volleyball.

We’ve really been working to emphasize those four parts of our lives. It’s helped me also realize how important goal setting is. Without goals, it’s hard to see that you are improving in your life.

I think it’s important for people in the Church to understand how amazing it is to have the knowledge we do, such as the plan of salvation.

Let me give you one example of tenacious faith in a missionary. In 1999, Sister Marci Barr came to the Nagoya Mission from Columbus, Ohio. She was a convert to the Church. Japanese was not easy for her, but she was tenacious. She was not going to give up or give in. In fact, early in her mission she was so determined to learn Japanese that she tried riding her bike and studying at the same time. This resulted in a painful bike accident and is not recommended. “Persistence, perseverance, and stubborn determination” characterized everything about Sister Barr. Once she learned how to communicate, she never stopped talking with people about the gospel of Jesus Christ.

We know that in Japan, and in every other country of the world, there are those who are ready to hear the gospel. There are great promises made to faithful, persistent, and even tenacious missionaries who open their mouths with boldness and love and who work with all their might in the ways that the Lord has set forth. One such promise is that the Lord “will open the hearts of the people, and they will receive you.”19

Some missionaries become fearful of rejection and let their fears overcome the loving boldness that they once felt. Not Sister Barr! She found and taught and she taught and found all of her mission. She never gave up. She knew that God had sent her, and she knew that God would fulfill His promises made to those who would be faithful to the end.

On the very last day of her mission she was traveling by train and subway alone to the mission home in Nagoya. That is how we did transfers in those days. She had faithfully completed her mission. That night I would interview her and tell her that she had done a wonderful job—and she had!

As she traveled to the mission home, there was a group of high school–age Japanese girls talking together on the subway. She approached them and asked if she could visit with them. She spoke of the gospel and its restoration. She gave a missionary tract to one of the girls who seemed interested and told her of the sister missionaries who served in the area where she lived and who could teach her the gospel. One last time she began to share the gospel in Japanese to one who so needed it in her life.

She got off the train, came to the mission home, and had her interview, never telling me of her experience on the train. To her it was unremarkable. It was what she did as a missionary. Sister Barr was a young woman who had become a missionary and who would be a missionary every day and every minute she could. She was simply continuing to do what she knew was right, all the way to the end. Perhaps this is the best definition of gospel tenacity I know: No matter what, continue to have faith in God and His promises and do what is right, all the time, regardless of who knows.

You might be interested to know that Sister Barr—now Marci—returned home to Columbus. There in a student ward she met her future husband. They have been blessed with children and happiness and joy.

The girl on the train that Marci found—Hitomi Kitayama—was taught by the sister missionaries. It took time, but Hitomi persevered and displayed her own form of tenacity as she first learned the truths of the gospel and then embraced them, along the way overcoming opposition from family members and her own doubts.

We next met Hitomi nearly six years later at a mission conference in Tokyo, where she was serving as a missionary. It was at this missionary conference that she told us of her meeting Sister Barr on the subway and of her subsequent conversion to the gospel. She was a truly happy missionary. It had been a long journey from the subway in Nagoya to her being one of the Lord’s missionaries in Tokyo. After her mission she met another returned missionary, Shimpei Yamashita. They were married in the Tokyo Japan Temple on December 20, 2008, and they now have three beautiful children. Interestingly, her husband, Shimpei, is the son of a man I taught in the summer of 1971 while I was on my first mission to Japan.

My mother, Stella Oaks, died before any of our grandchildren were born. So Sister Oaks and I had a “Stella party” to help them learn about her. I also wrote a book about her and about my father. You can learn more about your ancestors too. This will give you strength and direction for your life.

President and Sister Oaks had a “Stella party” to help their grandchildren get to know their great-grandmother Stella Oaks. Here are some things they did.
They decorated with Great-Grandmother Stella’s favorite color—yellow!
Everyone wore a hat, like she always did.
They looked at pictures and heard stories about her.

When I entered BYU Provo in September 1965, Bishop Glenn L. Pearson, a religion professor, was our bishop. Bishop Pearson taught us our first Sunday about the law of the Sabbath, the sacrament, and that our sacrifice to the Lord was to be of a broken heart and a contrite Spirit. He made a promise: “If you look at the Sabbath Day as a day to focus upon the Lord and worship Him, and offer your sacraments and oblations, and not do things for yourself or study—then you will have better grades and a richer education experiences than if you studied on the Sabbath.” I knew I needed help. I decided that each Sabbath I would do the Lord’s will and that I would do all I could to worship the Lord so I could gain the Bishop’s promise of good grades, an enriched education and also have a marked spiritual influence that would stay with me through the week.

I learned something very early in that process. I realized that how I approached the Sabbath—whether on my own terms or from the perspective of the Lord’s commandments—dramatically affected my own vision of discipleship and spirituality. Developing an attitude of worshipping on the Sabbath started to drive my desire to be there on time, to be kind and charitable to all, to be helpful to teachers giving lessons, and, most of all, to seek to connect with Heavenly Father during the time the sacrament was administered. I felt a sense of responsibility to be prepared for Sunday lessons, and to look for ways to do Church service; indeed, I was benefitted greatly by focusing upon worshiping God rather than “attending Church.” I also learned that when one participates in an ordinance—one is exposed to the promises of the powers of heaven—and especially the sacrament where we are promised that we will have the Spirit of the Lord with us ALWAYS.

I had some faith-promoting and enriching educational experiences. One of the most impressive to me came some 8 years later when I had finished my course work for my doctorate. My doctoral chairman, who had been in Europe for the year, learned that I would be leaving the university to take another teaching assignment in California. She called me and asked me to take my comprehensive exams with only ten days’ notice, so I could complete them before I moved. I was greatly troubled by her request. I went to the temple, I visited with each member of my committee, I fasted on both Sundays and studied. When I sat for my four days of comprehensive exams, on several questions I felt like I had answers dictated to me. I truly did receive better grades and a much richer education through Sabbath Day Worship.

Donovan aimed his slingshot at the empty soup can on the stump.
He stretched back the slingshot’s rubber tubing.
“What are you doing?” his little sister, Dana, asked.
“Watch this!” he said.
Thwack!
The rubber snapped back into place as Donovan let go, sending the small rock flying. Some leaves in a nearby tree rustled. But the tin can didn’t move. Donovan stuffed the slingshot into his back pocket. He had missed. Again!
Dana tilted her head to the side. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Nothing,” Donovan said. “Come on. Let’s go home.” They started heading back to the house.
Donovan kicked a stick out of his way. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to use Dad’s slingshot right. And he loved that thing! He always liked using it when Dad was out of town working, like now. It helped him feel close to Dad when he couldn’t see him.
He pulled the slingshot from his pocket and spun it slowly in his hand. The rough bark had become smooth a long time ago. Dad had made the slingshot out of a strong tree branch and used it for years before giving it to Donovan.
Dad had pointed at the soup can that day. “When you focus, amazing things can happen.” Donovan still remembered what happened next. Dad had aimed the slingshot and hit the soup can. In one try! He made it look easy. Donovan really missed him.
He was still thinking about Dad when he fell asleep that night.
The next morning, Donovan carried his slingshot to his favorite patch of trees to try again.
“Focus …” Donovan said as he stared at the can on the stump. He placed another small stone in the slingshot and pulled back.
Dad keeps trying, even when things don’t always work out, Donovan thought.
Donovan tried to stop thinking about all the times he had missed before. He closed one eye, the way Dad taught him. He really focused. Donovan didn’t look at anything else but the red soup can.
Taking a deep breath, he let go.
Thwack!
CLUNK!
Donovan blinked in surprise as the can sailed off the stump. “I did it!” he said. “Yes!”
Later that night, Donovan sat next to Mom after dinner. He held up the slingshot.
“I finally hit the can today,” he said, grinning.
“Well done!” Mom said.
“You know, I think this slingshot is my favorite thing in the whole world,” Donovan said.
“Oh?” Mom asked.
“Yup. Because it helps me think about Dad and feel close to him.”
Mom smiled. “I think he’ll be happy to know you feel that way. And guess what? Dad will be home in only three days. You can show him your new skills.”
Donovan could hardly wait! “That gives me an idea,” he said.
He ran to find Dana. He could teach her to use the slingshot the same way Dad had taught him!
“Hey, Dana,” he said. “Wanna learn how to use the best slingshot in Jamaica?”
What special things help you feel close to someone in your family?

I will tell you of an experience I had before I was a General Authority that affected me profoundly. I sat on a plane next to a professed atheist who pressed his disbelief in God so urgently that I bore my testimony to him. “You are wrong,” I said. “There is a God. I know He lives!”
He protested, “You don’t know. Nobody knows that! You can’t know it!” When I would not yield, the atheist, who was an attorney, asked perhaps the ultimate question on the subject of testimony. “All right,” he said in a sneering, condescending way, “you say you know. Tell me how you know.”
When I attempted to answer, even though I held advanced academic degrees, I was helpless to communicate.
When I used the words Spirit and witness, the atheist responded, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The words prayer, discernment, and faith were equally meaningless to him. “You see,” he said, “you don’t really know. If you did, you would be able to tell me how you know.”
I felt, perhaps, that I had borne my testimony to him unwisely and was at a loss as to what to do. Then came the experience! Something came into my mind. And I mention here a statement of the Prophet Joseph Smith: “A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas … and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation, until you become perfect in Christ Jesus.”1
Such an idea came into my mind, and I said to the atheist, “Let me ask if you know what salt tastes like.”
“Of course I do,” was his reply.
“Then,” I said, “assuming that I have never tasted salt, explain to me just what it tastes like.”
After some thought, he said, “Well, I, uh, it is not sweet and it is not sour.”
“You’ve told me what it isn’t, not what it is.”
After several attempts, of course, he could not do it. He could not convey, in words alone, so ordinary an experience as tasting salt. I bore testimony to him once again and said, “I know there is a God. You ridiculed that testimony and said that if I did know, I would be able to tell you exactly how I know. My friend, spiritually speaking, I have tasted salt. I am no more able to convey to you in words how this knowledge has come than you are to tell me what salt tastes like. But I say to you again, there is a God! He does live! And just because you don’t know, don’t try to tell me that I don’t know, for I do!”
As we parted, I heard him mutter, “I don’t need your religion for a crutch! I don’t need it.”

Fifth: "I was sick, and ye visited me." I'm sure we have all been sick at some point in our lives. And when you're feeling under the weather, who doesn't appreciate a reassuring visit from family or friends? I think of loneliness in this same category of need.

When I was in graduate school in Illinois, I was home teacher to a dear elderly sister in our ward, Zada Purrington. She lived alone in an assisted living center but made great efforts to come to church. We lived far from our own families and grandparents, so Zada became a kind of adopted grandparent for our young children. We loved to visit and spend time with her, even though she could barely hear us.

I know she was lonely and was often sick, but she was always happy to see us. I'm sure (I hope!) she appreciated our visits with three young girls in tow, and I know we certainly were greatly blessed by our association with her. This kind of service brings blessings in abundance to all involved.

Many years ago my family and I visited Arches National Park in Utah, USA. One of the most beautiful and famous arches in the park is Delicate Arch, and we decided to climb the mountain to reach it.
We started enthusiastically, but soon the others wanted to rest. I wanted to get there sooner, so I went on alone. Without paying attention to the path I should take, I began following a man who seemed to know where he was going.
The path became harder to climb. I was sure my family could not have made it. Suddenly I saw Delicate Arch, but to my surprise, I couldn’t reach it. The path I had taken didn’t lead to the arch.
I was frustrated and turned back. I waited impatiently until I met my group again. They told me they had followed the signs showing the right way and, with care and effort, had reached Delicate Arch. Unfortunately, I had taken the wrong way. What a lesson I learned!

I loved girls’ camp. I loved singing songs and dressing up in crazy outfits. I also loved the clear, crisp mornings and the bright stars at night. But most of all, I loved when my ward gathered around the campfire to have a testimony meeting. My testimony grew so much from those meetings.
The morning before my fifth time at camp, I woke up with a splitting headache. I sat up with a groan and rubbed my forehead to try to ease the pain. I felt achy and dizzy. I had chills even though I was still under my covers. I was sick. There was no way I could go into the mountains sick. But I couldn’t miss camp! A feeling of frustration swept over me.
All morning long, I restlessly drifted in and out of sleep while my family was at church. Periodically, I would say a little prayer in my heart asking Heavenly Father to help me find a way to be able to go to camp. Suddenly, I felt a strong impression that I should ask my father for a blessing. I felt a growing warmth in my heart, and I knew that through the power of the priesthood I would be made well enough to attend camp. Knowing that Heavenly Father loved me and was mindful of my concerns allowed me to rest a little easier.
A few hours later, my dad and my bishop gave me a priesthood blessing. As they laid their hands on my head, I could feel Heavenly Father’s love. As my father spoke the words of the blessing, he promised I would be healed according to my faith. My heart swelled with confidence and gratitude for the feeling of assurance that had been given to me earlier that day.
That same gratitude overwhelmed me the next Friday as the young women of my ward surrounded the campfire for a testimony meeting. I bore witness of how mindful God is of all of His children. I told the young women that, because of my experience, I had a testimony of the power of faith and that Heavenly Father wants us to know and have confidence in His will and His promises.

This past January I had the privilege of witnessing a profound act of service in the life of a woman who had lived in my ward when I served as bishop many years ago. Her name is Adele, and she and her two grown daughters—one of whom is handicapped—have lived for many years in the Rose Park area of the Salt Lake Valley. Adele, who is a widow, has struggled financially, and her life has often been difficult.
I had received a telephone call from an individual involved with the Gingerbread House Project inviting me to the unveiling of Adele’s home, the renovation of which had been undertaken during a period of just over three days and nights by many kind and generous individuals, all working voluntarily with materials donated by numerous local businesses. During the time the makeover of her home had been accomplished, Adele and her two daughters had been hosted in a city a number of miles away, where they themselves had received some pampering.
I was present when the limousine bearing Adele and her daughters arrived on the scene. The group which had been waiting for them included not only family and friends but also many of the craftsmen who had worked night and day on the project. It was obvious they were pleased with the result and were anxious to see the reaction of Adele and her daughters.
The women stepped from the car, blindfolds in place. What a thrilling moment it was when the blindfolds were removed and Adele and her daughters turned around and saw their new home. They were absolutely stunned by the magnificent project which had been completed, including a redesign of the front, an extension of the home itself, and a new roof. The outside looked new and immaculate. They could not help but cry.
I accompanied Adele and others as we entered the home and were amazed at what had been accomplished to beautify and enhance the surroundings. The walls had been painted, the floor coverings changed. There were new furnishings, new curtains, new drapes. The cupboards in the kitchen had been replaced; there were new countertops and new appliances. The entire house had been done over from top to bottom, each room spotless and beautiful. Adele and her daughters were literally overcome. However, just as poignant and touching were the expressions on the faces of those who had worked feverishly to make the house new. Tears welled in their eyes as they witnessed the joy they had brought into the lives of Adele and her daughters. Not only had a widow’s burden been made lighter, but countless other lives were touched in the process. All were better people for having participated in this effort.

You may ask, “Do such things occur even today?” Let me share with you the beautiful account of a grandmother and a grandfather now serving a mission and the manner in which their little grandson was blessed. The missionary grandfather wrote:

“My wife, Deanna, and I are now serving a mission in Jackson, Ohio. One of our big concerns as we accepted a mission call was our family. We would not be there when they had problems.

“Just before we went on our mission, our grandson R. J., who was two-and-a-half years old, had to have surgery to correct a crossed eye. His mother asked me to go with them because R. J. and I are real buddies. The operation went well, but R. J. did cry before and after the surgery because none of the family could go into the operating room, and he was afraid.

“About six months later, while we were still on our mission, R. J. needed the other eye corrected. His mother phoned and expressed her desire for me to be there to go with them for the second operation. Of course, distance and the mission prevented me from being with him. Deanna and I fasted and prayed for the Lord to comfort our grandson during his operation.

“We called shortly after the surgery was over and found that R. J. had remembered the previous experience and did not want to leave his parents. But as soon as he entered the operating room, he quieted down. He lay down on the operating table, took off his glasses for them, and went through the operation with a calm spirit. We were very thankful; our prayers had been answered.

“A couple of days later, we called our daughter and asked about R. J. He was doing fine, and she related this incident to us: In the afternoon after the operation, R. J. awakened and told his mother that Grandpa was there during the operation. He said, ‘Grandpa was there and made it all right.’ You see, the Lord made the anesthesiologist appear to that little boy as though he were his grandpa, but his grandpa and grandma were on a mission 1,800 miles away.”

Grandpa may not have been by your bedside, R. J., but you were in his prayers and in his thoughts. You were cradled in the hand of the Lord and blessed by the Father of us all.