Gospel Story Finder

My wife and I have just celebrated a remarkable thirtieth anniversary. Thirty years ago, young missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on our door in Nottingham, England.
How did their message appeal to two active members of another church? We, and generations before us, had held membership in the established church of the land. Furthermore, we were very happy with our way of life. Two precious children had graced our home, and a new job in a large industrial company was giving challenge and enjoyment.
What more could we hope for? What could add to our happiness? As the missionaries taught us and prayed with us, we began to realize that there were gaps in our life, that we had unfulfilled needs. For a few minutes may I share with you ten ways in which our lives became even more purposeful and happy as these needs were fulfilled. I am sure you will be able to identify some of these needs in your life, in your home, in your family.
First, we realized that our communication with God was not often enough or strong enough. True, we had always said our individual prayers, but when, because of the missionaries, we also started to pray together regularly as husband and wife and with our children, we experienced a tremendous feeling of closeness, not only with each other but with the Almighty God.
The missionaries had taught us that he is a personal being, that he is literally our Father, and prayers began to flow from the heart and were no longer repetitious. We came to know him as a loving Father, just and kind, reliable and true. What great need there is in the world today to commune with the Infinite, to talk and walk with God, to know that he speaks to us today and that we are in reality his children.
Second, we came to know Jesus Christ, not just as a historical figure, but as the living Son of God. In high school and the years that followed I had made a special study of the New Testament. However, the Savior’s life and mortal ministry had no great impact on my life until the missionaries testified, as did Job of old, that our Redeemer lives (see Job 19:25).
I came to know him as my personal Savior, who gave his life for me and for each of us. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Everyone needs a friend and everyone has a friend beyond compare—Jesus Christ and him crucified and resurrected for us.
Third, as a young married couple, we were seeking security in an insecure world. We had grown from youth through teenage years during World War II. I had been a member of the Home Guard at sixteen, trained to defend my country, and at seventeen had volunteered for the Royal Air Force. Now, more than five years after the war had finished, there was still rubble in the streets and rationing in the shops.
We grasped at the secure message that the missionaries gave us, that God speaks today as he did anciently, through prophets. Yes, he is mindful of us, he does love us, he has restored his church and the fulness of his gospel as he promised. Oh, how the world needs a prophet to lead us and guide us in these troubled times. I testify that we have such a prophet. He sits behind me as I speak in this tabernacle. He presides over The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Lord’s church and kingdom here on earth.
Fourth, we began attending the Church at the missionaries’ invitation—and what a friendly reception! We soon learned what true sociality is, and sincere brotherhood and sisterhood which bind together people of all nations and tongues. “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). What a wonderful feeling of belonging, of being needed and appreciated, beyond anything we had previously experienced.
Soon we were singing in choirs; visiting other Church members in their homes, just as they visited us; and giving service to others in some of the many service projects the Church provides. We were able to choose from a wide range of activities—drama, dancing, sport—to supplement the spiritual progress that came rapidly by worshiping and learning with other Latter-day Saints. Everyone needs to experience the warmth of friendship and happy social activity on a continuing basis.
Fifth, my family and family life became even more meaningful and precious to me as we commenced having wonderful family home evenings together. We learned that all over the world, members of the Church spend at least one evening a week together in a balanced evening of spiritual instruction, fun, and talent sharing. We love our children, and we were glad to learn from the missionaries that although baptism is essential for the remission of sins, infant baptism is not necessary since “all children who die before … accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom” (D&C 137:10). We have known a number of parents who have been distressed at the death of a small child because of the un-Christian doctrine of infant baptism.
Again, we also became concerned about our wider family: our grandparents, our great-grandparents, and all of our ancestors. This is also a universal need, as Alex Haley expressed, “a hunger, marrow-deep, to know our heritage” (“What Roots Means to Me,” Reader’s Digest, May 1977, p. 73). Everyone has some family, sometimes near, sometimes far, sometimes living in mortality, sometimes passed on and awaiting the Resurrection. The strength that comes from family in all its aspects is a vital need, one that can be fulfilled by the principles and programs learned from the missionaries.
Sixth, everyone appreciates good health, and there is a basic need to have our spirit housed in a well-functioning body if at all possible. Personally, I had suffered internal discomfort for some years, but the health code, or Word of Wisdom, taught by the missionaries helped me to overcome this. I can testify that the exclusion of the habit-forming stimulants of alcohol, tobacco, tea, and coffee has been a great blessing in my life and the lives of my wife and my children. I am glad the Lord gave this revelation through Joseph Smith, the Prophet, almost 150 years ago, bringing increased health and vitality to millions of people.
Seventh, as provider for our young family, I was not only concerned about physical and spiritual well-being, but indeed with personal progress generally. I soon found that in the Lord’s Church all kinds of resources are provided to fulfill this need. Before long I was involved in educational activities and leadership training and cultural pursuits of various kinds. Progress within my company organization was a natural outgrowth of progression in the Church. This was not surprising, for early in our discussions with the missionaries we had learned of God’s plan of eternal progression for his children. Does not everyone deep down have this yearning, this need to progress and improve, to develop and refine?
Eighth, I think along with these needs there is also a spirit of adventure in most of us in varying degrees, a need to discover, a need to explore. For many this need is met by reading adventure stories or traveling to new places. For myself, I had always been fascinated by the study of Middle Eastern archaeology, particularly of the great Egyptian civilization.
The message of my missionary friends even fulfilled this need, for they told us of an ancient record on gold plates, inscribed by people from the Middle East in the pre-Christian era. Imagine my excitement to learn that these ancient people with their prophets and culture had left the Old World and traveled to the New, to become a mighty people on what is now the American continent. Their records were hidden and preserved and a little over 150 years ago were discovered, not by archaeologists, but by a teenage youth. The faith and worthiness of this young man, Joseph Smith, enabled him not only to find the gold plates, but later to translate the hieroglyphic record by the power of God.
What a thrill it was to see some of the reformed Egyptian characters as copied by the hand of Joseph Smith. I knew by the feeling I had that they were true characters. Then, to hold this book of scripture, this Book of Mormon, in my hands and read it eagerly, sincerely, prayerfully, was a powerful spiritual experience. The need I had for the adventure of discovery was fulfilled through the Book of Mormon. This was not merely discovery of ancient peoples, but a complete discovery of the divinity of Jesus Christ. I testify that the Book of Mormon is a witness, a modern-day witness, of the Savior of the world, who visited this continent after his resurrection.
Ninth, as one who had lived less than perfectly, and yet had no serious matters to disturb my conscience, I felt the need to make some changes in my life. I was overjoyed to learn the pure teaching of Jesus Christ concerning faith, repentance, baptism by immersion for the remission of sins, and the laying on of hands to receive the Holy Ghost. What joy to start afresh with a clean sheet, having turned away from unsound doctrines, vain traditions, and perverted ordinances.
Again, this would seem to be a universal need, all men having been born into this earth life innocent and pure, and having been tainted by the things of the world. The marvelous thing is that Jesus gave his life for everyone. His resurrection was for everyone, “for as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22).
Tenth, and finally, since being baptized into this wonderful restored Church of Jesus Christ, I have felt an inner peace, “the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philip. 4:7). I have heard many people say their greatest need and desire is to obtain peace of mind. How does this come? It comes by knowing the truth, for “the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). I testify that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true Church of Jesus Christ, and teaches true principles and true ordinances.
How grateful I am that my ten most fervent needs have been fulfilled through listening to the missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then, by study and prayer and obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel, I have found happiness not only here but for eternities to come.
May all within the sound of my voice, and all God’s children everywhere, have the same fulfillment, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Your testimony will grow as you listen to the prophet’s voice. You will feel the concern he has for you. When he speaks, you will feel the Holy Ghost. When I was 12 years old, the President of the Church was David O. McKay. My Beehive class was in Salt Lake City one day to do baptisms for the dead at the temple. We saw President McKay. Our Beehive advisor was bold enough to walk us all over to meet the prophet. He shook all of our hands. I will never forget the powerful feeling I had when I shook his hand. I knew he was a prophet of God.

“My father’s family was driven from Mexico when he was fourteen years old. The men sent their women and children ahead by train, and they came later by horseback. On the way out of Mexico, Dad was nearly shot. He says he will never know why the man pointing the gun at him didn’t pull the trigger.
“When they arrived in Oakley, Idaho, the family had few material possessions; they didn’t have shoes or coats. A family meeting was held to see whether they should pay their tithing. They decided to do so. His family was always faithful to the Lord and my father has always been faithful too.”

In the town of Drammen, a few miles from Lier, there is a beautiful new branch chapel, and in spite of the busy schedule at school, Bonnie was able to attend Church meetings and participate in branch activities. “When Mr. Gurholt from the school drove me from Oslo to Lier, I thought to myself, ‘Oh, there aren’t any Mormons way out here.’ But there were! And I found that I knew the mission president too. The missionaries lent me their Norwegian books from the Language Training Mission and the sisters invited me to go tracting. I really enjoyed that. Several of my friends at school even agreed to have the missionary lessons, and one family was baptized shortly after I left Norway.”

Mari and Jorma realized they were going counter to Finnish culture and tradition when they joined the Church. Yet they changed course in life and never looked back.

Mari and Jorma Alakoski know the road of conversion. In the years since joining the Church in their native Finland, they have served in various capacities, including Mari’s calling as an assistant temple matron and Jorma’s calling as counselor in the first temple presidency of the Helsinki Finland Temple.

But like many converts, they had to fight for their faith. When missionaries met them, a testimony didn’t come as easily to Mari as it did to her husband. At first, she was uncomfortable with the Book of Mormon and pushed it away by touching it as little as possible with only the tip of a finger.

Later, when she saw tears streaming down the cheeks of her husband while he read the Book of Mormon, she thought to herself, “If this book touches him so deeply, it must be valuable.”

Her resistance gradually softened, and she began her quest for truth. In time, she too shed tears when reading the Book of Mormon.

Mari and Jorma realized they were going counter to culture and tradition when they joined the Church. Yet they abruptly changed course in life and never looked back. “The Church brought great contentment into our lives. I almost think that everything was too good to be true. We were received very kindly in the congregation,” Mari says.

“A lot of new things suddenly came into our lives,” she says. Sundays were no longer leisure times but packed with Church meetings, which were held three times throughout the Sabbath day at that time. “This required dressing the children for each meeting and timing their meals and naps.”

Every day of the week required time for gospel-related activities and meetings, whether home evening, Relief Society, or Primary. “On Saturday, we prepared food and clothes for Sunday,” Mari says.

Tha Alakoskis didn’t make a grand announcement when they joined the Church, but their family and friends gradually came to know. “Not everyone understood our decision,” Mari recalls. “A few friends stopped talking to us. But that was a small price to pay for all the precious things that came into our lives. Nothing and no one could influence us to abandon the Church. My father, after learning about our conversion, settled any discord when he said, ‘Let them do as they see fit. They are grown people. They know what they want to do.’”

In time, the couple desired to be sealed. They planned, sacrificed, and traveled two days by bus and one night by ship through Sweden and Germany. They finally arrived at the Bern Switzerland Temple, the only temple in Europe at the time.

The Alakoskis are an example of those who receive a witness of the gospel and forge ahead, much like Nephi, not knowing everything beforehand but following the Spirit (see 1 Nephi 4:6). They took cues from fellow members to learn the doctrine and how to apply the gospel to their lives. When they didn’t know something, they studied or asked for more direction.

A few weeks ago while in England, I had the opportunity to do some traveling by train. Weather and time schedules indicated this to be the most satisfactory method of transportation.
One day as the train rolled from Manchester to Leicester, after about an hour and a half of reading, I put down my books, looked out the window, and wondered if we were getting close to the station. A few minutes later the door to the compartment opened and the conductor entered. He greeted me with, “What is your destination?”
Inasmuch as I had been giving some thought to arrivals, departures, and stops, I answered, “I have an appointment in Leicester.”
To this he responded with, “We shall be at your destination in ten minutes.” He punched my ticket and made his way to check others.
After he left, I pondered his comments, “What is your destination?” and “We shall be at your destination in ten minutes.” He seemed convinced that every time the train stopped and dozens or hundreds of people got off, they had arrived at their destinations. Apparently he has been announcing this to his passengers for years.
However, I knew, despite his comments, that I needed to be in Leicester for two days for quarterly stake conference sessions but that it was not my destination. Stops in other English cities were not my destinations either. They were all assignments along the way. I had not arrived when I reached any of them.
As a result of this experience on the train, and having given this thought some consideration over the years, I am concerned that many of us are confused in our life’s travels with destinations, arrivals, stops, calls, stations, and assignments. It appears to me that some of us may be lost today because we think we have arrived.

Last month I had the opportunity to attend the temple wedding of a young woman I have known since she was born. As I sat in the sealing room, looking at the beautiful chandelier sparkling in the light of the temple, I remembered that day when I first held her. Her mother had her dressed in a little white dress, and I thought she was one of the most beautiful babies I had ever seen. Then this young woman walked through the door, once again dressed in white. She was radiant and happy. As she entered the room, I wished with all my heart that every young woman could envision that moment and strive to always be worthy to make and keep sacred covenants and receive the ordinances of the temple in preparation to enjoy the blessings of exaltation.
As this couple knelt at the sacred altar, they received promises beyond mortal comprehension that will bless, strengthen, and assist them on their mortal journey. It was one of those moments when the world stood still and all of heaven rejoiced. As the newly married couple looked into the large mirrors in the room, the groom was asked what he saw. He said, “All those who have gone before me.” Then the couple looked into the large mirror on the opposite wall, and the bride said with tears in her eyes, “I see all those who will follow after us.” She saw her future family—her posterity. I know that she understood again in that moment how important it is to believe in being chaste and virtuous. There is no more beautiful sight than a couple, properly prepared, kneeling together at the altar of the temple.

For example, on Monday, 17 April 1893, Brother Andrew Smith, Jr., a member of the Tabernacle Choir, opened his eyes as President Cannon read the dedicatory prayer. He said of the experience, “I saw a bright light appeared above his [President Cannon’s] head and behind him from his shoulders upwards. This light remained in that position a few moments and then raised until I could see the face of a personage in the midst of it. It was the countenance of President Brigham Young. I turned my gaze away for a moment … and then I beheld the person of President John Taylor. … I also saw a personage whom I took to be Hyrum Smith … then Orson Pratt, whom I at once recognized. … When the prayer was concluded and just before and during the sacred hosanna shout, I noticed a bright halo of light surrounding several of the brethren. … I was overcome and wept for joy. Having my head bowed for a short time I saw nothing more for a few moments. On raising it again I saw a brilliant light over the head of each member of the First Presidency while they sat upon the stand. Whichever way any of the speakers turned while addressing the people, the light followed every movement made by them.”

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, I preached a sermon down in Quitman, Georgia, on the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit. I quoted from Rulon Howell’s book Do Men Believe What Their Churches Prescribe? Along one side he has the names of all the important subjects and across the top the names of various large churches of the world. I read from that book. Not one of the major churches believed in the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit. As the meeting closed, I stood at the door shaking hands with the people who were there. A man came up and introduced himself as a Baptist minister, and I said, “Did I misquote you here tonight?”
“No, Mr. Richards,” he said. “It’s like you say; we don’t all believe all the things that our churches teach.”
I said, “You don’t believe them either. Why don’t you go back and teach your people the truth. They’ll take it from you, and they’re not ready to take it from the Mormon elders yet.”
He said, “I’ll see you again.”
I didn’t see him for about four months until I went back to that branch. My coming was announced in the newspaper, and as I walked to that little church, there stood that Baptist minister. As we shook hands, I said, “I’d certainly be interested to know what you thought of my talk the last time I was here.”
He said, “Mr. Richards, I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I believe every word you said, only I’d like to have heard the rest of it.” Now you know we never get talked out when we get talking about the principles of the gospel. There was a man occupying a pulpit in the Baptist Church who believed every word I’d said, and yet he couldn’t preach it to his people.

“Dear brothers and sisters, my talk is on friendship with my next-door neighbor, Shawn Bell, whom most of you know.
“When Shawn first moved next door, there was always trouble between us. The first day I saw Shawn, he threw a toy truck at me and hit me in the face, which gave me two scars, one underneath my nose and one above my left eye.
“When I was in kindergarten, I went to the morning class and Shawn went to the afternoon class. Shawn would wait for me on his way to school as I would be coming home. He would beat me up and go on to school, and I would go home with a bloody nose or a fat lip.
“When I was nine, I was baptized into the Church. That’s when Shawn started going to church with me, and then last February he was baptized into the Church. Since Shawn and I have been going to Church together, we’ve acted like brothers and we’ve had fun in Scouts together. Scouting has helped Shawn and me do things together without much trouble.
“The meaning of this talk is the meaning of a fair friendship. I hope you, too, will bring one of your deadly enemies into the Church. I know the Church is true.” (Matt Taylor.)

“Did you mow the lawn?”
Jeff huddled lower as he manipulated the joystick of his video game. Maybe if he ignored her, she would go away.
“I asked, did you mow the lawn?”
Jeff sighed. “No, Mom, I didn’t mow the lawn—OK?”
She ignored his sarcasm. “No, it isn’t OK. You need to turn off the video game now and get the lawn mowed.” She waited a few seconds, but Jeff didn’t take his eyes off the screen.
Suddenly the television clicked off.
“Hey!” Jeff griped. “What happened?” Then he saw his mom calmly slip the remote control into the laundry basket balanced on her hip.
Jeff grumbled as he stomped outside, dragged the mower out, started it up with a couple of angry yanks, and shoved it over the lawn. It took only about forty-five minutes, but he was still irritated when he finished.
“Satisfied?” he asked his mom, who was up to her elbows in bread dough. He jerked the refrigerator door open, looking for something cold to drink.
“Not really,” she replied. “Are you?”
Jeff stopped. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, “the lawn’s mowed, but are you better for having mowed it? Are you satisfied with a job well done? Are you happy for having contributed to the family?”
“No!”
“Then you did it wrong,” she said and went back to kneading the dough.
Jeff returned to the television, but he couldn’t concentrate. His mother made no sense. The lawn was mowed, right? How could she say he had done it wrong?
Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He wandered into the kitchen. “So,” he asked, “how many ways are there to mow a lawn?”
“Not ways, really—more like reasons for doing it. Ask around,” she advised him. “Don’t ask people how they mow lawns, ask them why they do it.”
Jeff was happy to get out of the house. He wandered down the street, thinking. There could be only one reason people mowed lawns—because lawns grew and needed mowing and, in his case, because his mother made him do it. But he had the feeling his mother had something else in mind.
Down the block, Jeff saw his friend Chris whistling as he strode along. When he saw Jeff, he hollered, “I’m on my way to the store. Come on.”
Chris pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his pocket and waved it under Jeff’s nose. “The first of many, Jeff-o,” he chortled. “My lawn-mowing business is going to rake in the dough! I’ll be rich, rich, rich! Money may not grow on trees, but it does grow in lawns!”
Jeff laughed, then paused. “So why, exactly, do you mow lawns?”
Chris looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “For the money, of course. That’s the only good reason I can think of!”
They walked on, Chris bragging about the things he’d buy before summer was over. Jeff, however, was thinking. So far he’d found two reasons to mow a lawn: fear of punishment and the promise of a reward.
They were almost to the store when they heard an old mower ka-chunking through grass. As they rounded the corner, they saw Daniel finishing up the last bit of his front lawn.
“Want to go to the store with us?” Chris asked.
“Can’t,” Daniel panted. “I still have to mow the back lawn.”
Jeff grabbed the opportunity. “So why are you mowing the lawn?”
“Because grass grows.” Daniel said it very slowly, like he was answering a foolish question.
Jeff turned red. “No, I mean, do you get paid for mowing it? Or will something happen to you if you don’t mow it?”
Daniel just shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone in my family has chores, and today mine is mowing the lawn. Why fight it? I just want to get it out of the way so that I can do more interesting stuff.”
Jeff and Chris nodded in understanding, then headed on down the road.
So that’s what Mom meant, Jeff thought. You can do something because you’re afraid of being punished, or because you’ll get rewarded, or because there’s no point in arguing about it—you might as well just get it done.
Certain that he had found the answer his mother wanted, Jeff poked Chris in the ribs, and they raced each other to the store.
They were slowly heading back when they met Daniel pushing his mower down the street.
“Where are you going with the mower?” Jeff asked.
“The Merrill’s place.”
“Don’t you know that Brother Merrill’s in the hospital?” Jeff asked. “He fell off the roof last week when he was repairing shingles.”
“Yeah,” Chris added. “There’s nobody there. His wife spends every day at the hospital.”
“True,” Daniel said, pushing past them, “but the grass still grows.” He hurried on his way as his two friends stared after him.
“Uh, I have to be getting home now,” Jeff said.
Chris nodded. “Me, too. See you later.”
They did see each other later—about fifteen minutes later—when they both arrived at the Merrills’ home, pushing their lawn mowers.
Daniel was glad to see them. “I’ll do the front lawn if you guys handle the side and back. We can be out of here before Sister Merrill gets home. It will be a surprise.”
It was a hot day, and the grass was tall from more than a week of neglect. When they finished, the lawn looked beautiful. Jeff now knew what his mother had meant about satisfaction. The boys didn’t say much. They just grinned as they pushed their mowers in a line down the sidewalk, each turning with military precision when he reached his own street.
Jeff put the mower away and went inside. The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the air, and a pile of clean, neatly folded laundry was on his bed. He wandered into the kitchen where dinner was cooking and sat down at the counter, elbowing aside plates and silverware that were ready to be set out.
His mother smiled. “Where have you been?”
Jeff grinned back. “Turns out that there are four reasons to mow a lawn. You can do it because you’re afraid you’ll be punished if you don’t. You can do it because you’ll be rewarded if you do. Or you can do it because you have to and it’s easier to just do it than to complain.”
His mother nodded. “You said there were four reasons,” she prompted.
“Yeah.” Jeff looked down, then met his mother’s eyes. “I guess the last one is really the best one,” he admitted. “There’s nothing really wrong with the other reasons for mowing a lawn, but you only get that satisfaction you talked about if you do it because it’s the right thing to do—because it’s an act of service.”
His mother nodded. “And it isn’t true just for mowing lawns,” she said, giving him a hug. She turned to give the spaghetti sauce another stir. “We’ll eat when your dad gets home. Jeff, could you …”
She turned around and saw that he was gone—along with the plates and silverware. Then she heard a shout from the dining room.
“Hey, Mom, where did you hide the napkins?”

The New Era is such a blessing to me! The only thing I don’t like about it is having to wait a whole month for the next issue.
I am a paratrooper in the U.S. Army, and that means that some Sundays have to be spent training in the woods rather than worshipping in church. When I know I can’t make it to church, I will bring my scriptures, along with the New Era. As soon as there is some free time, I dig them out and start reading. During these times the Spirit can be so strong that I often forget where I am. Another added blessing is that I live in Kaysville, Utah, and since a lot of the pictures and articles are from people in Utah I get to see a lot of familiar places. Once or twice I have even seen familiar faces.
When I first joined the army I was basically inactive, but soon after experiencing the scary feeling of jumping out of a plane at midnight, I felt the need to know that the Lord would watch over me. Very soon after praying about it, I found that my mother had subscribed to the New Era for me. It has helped me so much to become active again, and now I am holding my breath until I can go on a mission in 17 months.
As for jumping out of airplanes, it’s a piece of cake!
Gregory TibbetsFt. Bragg, North Carolina

Years ago, while I served as a young intern in a large medical center, I attended a Christmas party. The host was the chief of surgery. I had made a major commitment to work for and be loyal to him and his world-famous institution, which had produced many of the great surgeons, scholars, and researchers of our generation. At the party, the chief’s head resident offered alcoholic beverages to Sister Nelson and me. Of course, we politely declined.

Minutes later he returned with a more persuasive pitch: “Take a drink,” he said, “or the chief will be offended.” Again we declined. Our refusal infuriated the head resident. Red-faced and indignant, he said, “Nelson, you take this drink or I’ll make life around here mighty miserable for you!”

I simply replied, “You do what you must, doctor, but I will do what I must.”

I fulfilled my promise, and he fulfilled his.

He saw to it that I had no vacation that year. His responsibility to prepare the schedule of assignments and on-call duty bore the stamp of his vitriolic vengeance against me. But now, as I reflect on this matter some forty years later, I would not trade places with him today, or ever.

Nine-year-old David O. McKay sat cross-legged on the floor in front of a warm fire in the front room of the McKay home in Huntsville, Utah. Sitting next to him on a handwoven rug was his seven-year-old brother, Thomas, and his sisters, Jennette, four, and Annie, two. The children were thrilled to have their father home for the first evening in over two years.
David McKay, after whom David O. had been named, had just returned from serving a mission in Scotland—the land of his birth—and the children were anxious to hear of their father’s adventures in that far-off land. This was the first time that little Annie had even seen her father, because she had been born ten days after he left for his mission. However, she quickly made friends with this gentle, bearded man, and they developed a special relationship.
As David told the children about Scotland, describing the music of the bagpipes, the fields of heather, the castles, and the thousands of sheep dotting the hillsides, one of the children asked him if he had seen any miracles while he was on his mission. David’s eyes met those of his wife, Jennette, and he replied as he put his arm around her, “Your mother is the greatest miracle that I have ever seen on this earth.” The McKay children remembered those words the rest of their lives, and they were taught by their father to love their mother and to appreciate the many things that she did for them each day.

I will never forget my first visit to West Africa in 1986. The Saints came to our meetings in great numbers. Though they had little in terms of material possessions, most came dressed in spotless white clothing.
I asked the stake president how he cared for members who had so little. He replied that their bishops knew their people well. If members could afford two meals a day, no help was needed. But if they could afford only one meal or less—even with family help—bishops provided food, financed from fast offerings. Then he added this remarkable fact: their fast-offering contributions usually exceeded their expenses. Surplus fast offerings were then sent to people elsewhere whose needs exceeded theirs. Those stalwart African Saints taught me a great lesson about the power of the law and the spirit of the fast.

My new friend Paul testifies of this truth. Paul grew up in a home that was sometimes abusive and always intolerant of religion. While attending school on a military base in Germany, he noticed two sisters who seemed to have a spiritual light. Asking why they were different brought the answer that they belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Soon Paul began meeting with missionaries and was invited to church. The next Sunday, as he got off the bus, he noticed two men dressed in white shirts and ties. He asked them if they were elders of the Church. They answered yes, so Paul followed them.
During the service, a preacher pointed to people in the congregation and invited them to testify. At the end of each testimony, a drummer gave a drum salute and the congregation called out, “Amen.”
When the preacher pointed to Paul, he stood up and said, “I know Joseph Smith was a prophet and the Book of Mormon is true.” There was no drum salute or amens. Paul eventually realized he had gone to the wrong church. Soon, Paul found his way to the right place and was baptized.
On the day of Paul’s baptism, a member he didn’t know told him, “You saved my life.” A few weeks earlier, this man had decided to look for another church and attended a service with drums and amens. When the man heard Paul bear his testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, he realized that God knew him, recognized his struggles, and had a plan for him. For both Paul and the man, “it fell on a day,” indeed!

Pepito turned and looked back at the rancho. His eyes were filled with tears. All his worldly belongings were inside the small burlap sack slung over his shoulder. How hard it was to leave the only home he had ever known and the horses he had loved and tended.
It was really his love of horses that had cost Pepito his job and home. To break a stallion’s spirit, Garcia, a cruel groom, had tied him in his stall and left him without food and water. When Pepito had smuggled food and water to the horse, he had been caught and fired without being allowed to explain what had happened.
An orphan, Pepito had no choice but to walk along the hot, dusty road toward the nearest town, a good day’s ride away. To find a stable master there who was in need of a good groom was his only hope.
Pepito trudged on, not stopping until midafternoon to take even a sip of water from his goatskin bag or to eat even one of the corn tortillas the kindly cook had given him. Wearily he sat in the shelter of a large boulder. His head began to nod.
Pepito awoke to the cool night air blowing across his face—and had he just dreamed that he’d heard slow, heavy steps? Suddenly he heard the low but unmistakable whinny of a horse! He scrambled atop the boulder and peered through the darkness. There! Something was moving through the brush not far away.
Pepito’s heart beat wildly. His one dream had always been to have a horse of his own. If he could catch this horse, he could ride it into town. And if it had no owner, he could claim it!
Pepito moved carefully through the brush. He had no rope and could only hope to take the animal by surprise. Closer he crept, and in the pale moonlight he finally saw it. Pepito gasped. She was the most beautiful mare he had ever seen! Her features were small and dainty, and she looked fleet of hoof. Her color was of the palest gold, and her mane and tail were as white as flax.
Pepito stood motionless and stared. The mare turned and regarded him with soft, liquid eyes. She showed no fear, and Pepito’s heart went out to her. Such a horse must surely belong to a princess, he thought. She must be lost in this wild country. He could see now that her coat was caked with mud and brambles. There were sunken places around her eyes. And she was heavy with foal.
Pepito knew that the mare needed food and water badly. She could not hope to give birth and survive alone in such rough country. He would have to help her! He quickly ran back and got his sack, poured water from his water bag into his sombrero, and, holding it before him, walked slowly toward the horse.
The mare sniffed the air. Her ears pricked, and without hesitation she came to Pepito and began drinking the water from his hat. When the water was gone, Pepito rolled up his few remaining tortillas and fed them to her one by one until they were gone. The mare’s eyes were filled with trust and gratitude. She nuzzled Pepito’s hand, and both of them knew that each had found a friend. Princesa, I will call you, Pepito decided. My Princesa.
Pepito knew that the mare’s time was very near. He worked quickly to clear a soft, sheltered place for her to rest. The mare seemed to understand his intent, for when he was done, she lay down at once.
Pepito kept watch nearby, afraid that some enemy would find her—a snake, or perhaps a scorpion. He drank the last of his water and ate a few nuts. Tomorrow he would have to find food and water for them both somewhere among the sagebrush and mesquite.
Pepito awakened with a start. The warm morning sun was in his face. He leapt to his feet! He had not meant to sleep. Had it all been a dream? But no, there lay Princesa; and nuzzling by her side was a tiny reddish colt! Pepito studied the foal. He was as finely built as his mother, built to run with the wind. Vientito, I will call you, he decided. Little Wind.
Pepito set off immediately to find water for the mare. If the colt was to survive, its mother must have strength to feed him. The boy scrambled down into a deep arroyo and began to dig with all his might. His face and clothing were soon caked with dirt and sweat, but finally his effort was rewarded. The sand grew moist, moister, till at last a small pool formed.
Pepito filled his sombrero again and again and carried it to the mare. Only when her thirst was slaked did he stop to rest and to drink. Then he went out once more to gather all the coarse grass he could find. It was not corn or oats, but it was the best that he could do. No matter where he looked, he could find no food for himself. He had only a handful of nuts left to sustain him until the mare and her foal were well enough to travel.
By afternoon Pepito was exhausted. He lay in the shade of the boulder, feeling weak and dizzy. The mare was stronger now, and she struggled to her feet and nickered encouragingly to her colt. The foal struggled and fell, struggled and fell, till finally his spindly legs supported him, and he wobbled to his mother and began to nurse. Pepito’s heart sang. Soon they would ride with the wind, the colt galloping after them!
Two days passed, and the bond between them grew, but the mare again weakened. Her ribs showed, and her coat was lusterless. Pepito soothed and groomed her the best that he could, but he began to despair. There was so little grass left, the water hole was beginning to dry, his nuts were gone, and vultures could be seen circling above them.
Pepito had no strength left; his skin was parched, and he could barely walk. He fell to the sand, dimly aware of a sound like distant thunder. Horses! He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward the road. He must get help! If there were horsemen, too, they would probably realize Princesa’s value and take her from him, but it was better than watching her die!
He reached the road and waved his sombrero wildly. As the riders slowed and came to a stop, Pepito collapsed in the dirt in front of them.
Pepito opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed, in a huge room with white walls! Standing at the foot of the bed was a handsome young man and the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hair was the color of the mare’s, her eyes as soft and brown, and her features as finely chiseled.
The girl smiled at him. “We found you; and we found my Estrellita (Little Star) and her foal. I can never thank you enough for saving her,” the girl said. “We saw how you had cared for them. They are well. Come and see!” She took his hand and helped him to the window.
Pepito gasped. Here was a rancho bigger than any he had seen. A small river ran through green pastures, and trees dotted the hills. Cattle and horses were everywhere, and a huge stable crowned the highest hill. There in a paddock near the house was Princesa, well groomed and contented; by her side was the frisky foal.
Happy-sad tears stung Pepito’s eyes. The mare was safe at home, which made him happy, but she had no further need of him, which made him sad. But what was the girl saying?
“… and she will still need great care and a good groom—one for whom she has affection.”
Pepito turned and stared at her, hope making his heart beat quickly.
“Devotion and courage such as you have shown are rare indeed,” she continued softly. “Will you stay and be my Estrellita’s groom and train her foal for me? It would please me greatly.”
Speechless, Pepito clasped her hands and nodded ecstatically. He could stay with his Princesa—no, Estrellita! He would train Vientito! And he had found a home!

I once met a young sailor who was a member of the crew of an atomic submarine based in Scotland. He was the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the crew. The submarine would go on extended cruises encompassing many weeks. As this young Church member was assigned to his station on his first cruise, he found that other crewmen had plastered the walls in his area with suggestive pictures of scantily clad women. This offended him. He took all the pictures down and destroyed them. He was conscious of the probable reaction of the other men but, nevertheless, had the courage to do what he thought he should. Not one picture was put up again. As a matter of fact, on that first cruise, he began to teach a Sunday School class attended by two or three of the other men. He learned an important lesson—generally speaking, others will show respect for one who has the courage of his or her convictions and isn’t afraid to do what he feels is right.

Alexandria had not seen her homeland for twenty-nine years. During those years, however, she had corresponded with her parents and one sister. Although she wanted to visit them, she was repeatedly denied a travel visa. Finally, in 1972, she was granted permission to visit her family. The reunion was bittersweet: her mother and two of her sisters had passed away, and her aging father was blind. Still, it was good to be home again with her father, her sister Katrina, and her relatives and close friends.
On one occasion the family visited the cemetery where Alexandria’s mother was buried. Overcome with emotion, Katrina fell upon the grave and wept. Alexandria knelt beside her and explained that death was not final, that their mother still lived in spirit, and that in time they would be with her again. Katrina was puzzled, but the look in her eyes expressed hope, so Alexandria explained the plan of salvation as simply as she could. Katrina listened intently, then turned to her father, who had been listening too. “Papa, do you believe what she says?” He nodded yes as he shed tears. Alexandria bore her testimony and saw a glimmer of enlightenment register on their faces. Never had they spoken of such things before. A seed of truth had been planted.

My father grew up in the small town of Monticello, Utah. When he was seven, one of his daily chores was to bring the family’s cows in from their pasture. His prized possession was his pocketknife, which he always kept with him. One day as he was riding his horse to fetch the cows, he reached into his pocket for his knife. To his dismay he realized he had lost it somewhere along the trail. He was heartbroken, but he believed what he had been taught by his father and mother: God hears and answers prayers.
He stopped his horse and slid off its bare back to the ground. There he knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help him find his pocketknife. He climbed back on his horse, turned around, and rode back down the trail. After some distance his horse stopped. Dad climbed off the horse and put his hand into the deep dust on the trail. There, buried in the dust, he found his prized pocketknife. He knew that the Lord had heard and answered his prayer.
Because he had learned to listen to and act upon the whisperings of the Spirit, my father was blessed to see the hand of the Lord on many occasions throughout his life. He witnessed many miracles. Yet when he gathered his family to teach us the gospel, he often spoke of his experience on the dusty trail in Monticello when the Lord heard and answered the prayer of a “freckle-faced seven-year-old boy.”
In his later years he told us that he had learned something else from this childhood experience. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “I learned that God can speak to horses!”
My father’s experience as a young boy left a lasting impression on him because it was the beginning of his personal spiritual education. This was when he learned for himself that God hears prayers. This was when he began, as the Prophet Joseph Smith termed it, to learn the Spirit of God.1