Gospel Story Finder

One of the most important lessons I have learned in voyaging is that we cannot change the winds, but we can always change our sails. And when we change our sails, we often arrive not necessarily where we think we need to be but exactly where we are supposed to be. I initially thought the job of the apprentice navigator was to get to a specific destination within the parameters of the plan. On the voyage around the Samoan Islands, we planned to visit a number of locations, but we weren’t able to because of the winds. Since we came back early to Pago Pago, we were able to interact with about 20 schools in American Samoa. While at Matatula Elementary, I had an experience that I will never forget. Following our presentation, a young child stood up and said in the matai (chiefly) language which was translated for me, “Thank you for teaching us what is not written in our textbooks.” I was deeply and profoundly moved, and finally able to respond, “Fa’afetai tele lava to your ancestors who bravely sailed from the Navigator Islands of Samoa to Hawaii. It is because of you we are here today, and it is because of you we are able to sail around the world.” Together, we are one nation, one oceanic people, and one beautiful ‘ohana living together on island earth. By being adaptable and willing to follow the Lord’s invitations, we are able find our compasses that enable us to collectively build the kingdom of God and lift where we stand. To add onto the words of Isaac Newton, yes, we stand on the shoulders of giants—and we are and will be the shoulders for generations to come.

In 1914 he spent the first year of his Central States mission traveling, relying on the good will of the people for his bed and a meal each night. He was made president of the East Missouri conference, in charge of 25 missionaries. According to his records, he personally contacted 3,800 nonmembers during the first half of 1916. Even his piano-playing skills were useful. Tracting one day in St. Louis he noticed a piano in a home. “It’s a Kimball, isn’t it?” he asked a woman who was closing the door. “That’s my name too. I could play a song on it for you that you might like to hear.” She let him in, and he played and sang, “O My Father.”

Eve loved Christmastime. Her class at school had spent the morning coloring cards and listening to fun music.
“Now it’s reading time,” Mrs. Grunig said. “And if you finish all your reading today and tomorrow, you won’t have any homework during the holiday break.”
All the kids in Eve’s class cheered. But Eve didn’t feel much like cheering. She shivered a little as she pulled out her book to read. She felt very cold and her throat hurt. Her eyes felt hot as she stared at the words on the page. By the end of school, Eve’s stomach felt sick too.
Finally it was time to walk home with her brother and sister, Tim and Wilma. Usually they had fun on the way home. They would play tag or make a snowman. But today all Eve wanted to do was get home and lie down.
When Eve got home, Mama felt her forehead.
“You have a fever,” she said. “You need to drink plenty of water and get lots of rest.”
Eve climbed into bed and fell asleep right away. The next morning, everyone else in her family was busy getting ready for the day. But Mama said Eve was too sick to go to school.
Then Eve remembered something that made her sad. Today was the school Christmas party! They were supposed to finish their art projects and sing songs and have treats. She just had to go!
But Mama didn’t change her mind.
“I’m sorry you’ll miss the party, sweetie,” she said. “But your health is more important.”
Eve started to cry. Mama tried to help her feel better with yummy soup. But all Eve could think about was all of the fun her friends were having without her.
In the afternoon, Tim and Wilma got home from school. Their cheeks were red from playing in the snow.
“The school party was lots of fun,” Wilma said. “We made red paper birds to hang up at home.”
Tim pulled something out of his pocket.
“And look—Mrs. Grunig sent us home with a special present for you. It’s so you can make a red paper bird too!”
Eve smiled. “Can you show me how?”
Tim and Wilma showed Eve how to cut on the dotted line and fold it just right. They helped her tie the string in a loop.
“Mama, look what I made!” Eve said, showing off her new favorite Christmas ornament.
Eve thought of how nice Mrs. Grunig was to remember her when she was sick, and how Tim and Wilma had helped her too. Now whenever Eve looked at her red paper bird, she would feel lots of love.

In September our first granddaughter was married in the Salt Lake Temple. All of the aunts and uncles (and some of the older cousins) came together for the sealing. You have heard it said before, but I want to say it again: Nothing compares to the joy of being surrounded by your family in a sealing room. At times like these, when earth communes with heaven, all material concerns, worries, and pressures vanish. You realize just how priceless an eternal family unit can be.

Late that afternoon the whole family gathered to help prepare for the reception and take family photos. All of the family worked together decorating for the special event. Joy and excitement filled the room! As a wife, mother, and grandmother, I stood back watching the love, respect, and unity in our family, and my heart filled with deep joy and appreciation for the blessings of family.

We all tasted a bit of heaven that day. Everything that you take with you into the next life is everything that money cannot buy. Covenants that seal husbands and wives, parents and children, are of inestimable worth. Love that spans the generations and binds hearts together is nothing less than divine.

There is a spirit that pervades our homes when there is a love of the Lord, a love for one another, and a commitment to obedience that springs out of that love. As I speak of that spirit, I remember our mission home in Frankfurt, Germany, where my husband served as mission president. Our daughter, Marianne, was ten years old at the time. Some of her friends from school would come to the mission home and occasionally stay overnight. One night, one of her friends said, “I like to come to your house because I feel safe here.” Marianne understood what she meant—all of our family knew the spirit of the mission home. It was a legacy that was left by thousands of dedicated missionaries who had passed through that home and shared their testimonies and their love for their Heavenly Father and the Savior. It is a spirit that can be felt in all of our homes when as families we share testimonies and feelings of the Spirit as we read the scriptures and when we kneel together in prayer.

People come to make that crucial choice for many reasons. At first one man we taught could not see the need to be baptized. After all, he had tried to be good all his life. He had committed no serious sin. He had been baptized as a child in another church. But then two things came to his mind. One was that the Savior was baptized out of obedience, having never sinned. The other is that he wanted to make the commitment to the Savior through the authority of the true priesthood, just as the Savior went to John to be baptized.
Another young man we taught chose to be baptized out of a heart broken by the sorrow he felt for his sins. As he came up out of the waters of baptism, he threw his arms around my neck, tears streaming down his cheeks, and said in my ear, “I’m clean. I’m clean.”
Their choices to make the covenant of baptism sprang from a common faith. They knew that if they would keep a covenant to obey the Savior’s commandments, He would keep His covenant with them to lead them toward eternal life. They were ready to come unto Him that they might be changed and led by Him and, in time, become like Him.

“Economically, our family had its ups and downs. Like many Americans, we did well during the 1920s. My father started making lots of money in real estate, in addition to his other businesses. For a few years we were actually wealthy. But then came the Depression.
“No one who’s lived through it can ever forget. My father lost all his money, and we almost lost our house. I remember asking my sister, who was a couple of years older, whether we’d have to move out and how we’d find somewhere else to live. I was only six or seven at the time, but the anxiety I felt about the future is still vivid in my mind. Bad times are indelible—they stay with you forever.” (Lee Iacocca and William Novak, Iacocca: An Autobiography, New York: Bantam Books, 1984, p. 7.)

Lance loved a lot of things about being five years old. He loved being old enough to help with the lambs on the farm. He loved giving his first talk in Primary. And he loved looking out for his three-year-old brother, Gabe.
Gabe wanted to be big like Lance. When Grandma asked Lance to pick beans in the garden, Gabe got a basket and went along. When Lance swept out the chicken coop, Gabe found a broom and helped. When Lance started humming a song, Gabe hummed along too.
One Sunday Gabe looked really excited as he came out of Primary.
“Guess what?” he asked Lance. “I’m supposed to give a talk, just like you did!”
During the week, Gabe practiced telling a story about Jesus blessing the little children. Lance watched his brother hold up the pictures at just the right moment. When Gabe forgot some of the words, Lance helped him out. On Sunday morning, Lance said a special prayer with Gabe that his talk would go well.
Finally the time came for Gabe to give his talk.
“He looks scared,” Lance thought as he watched Gabe walk to the podium and step in front of the microphone. Gabe’s eyes opened wider as he saw all the children there. Suddenly it seemed like he was frozen. Not a word came out of his mouth.
“Poor Gabe!” Lance thought. He watched nervously from the second row until he couldn’t sit there any longer. He stood up and walked to the microphone, placing his arm around Gabe’s shoulders.
“It’s all right, Gabe. You can do it. Remember the words?” Lance whispered. After another second of silence, Lance took a deep breath. He knew that his brother needed his help.
“Today I’d like to share the story of Jesus blessing the children,” Lance began. He had heard the talk so many times during the week that he knew every word. As he spoke, he kept looking over at Gabe. Little by little, Gabe relaxed. When Lance got to the last sentence, Gabe leaned toward the microphone.
“Jesus loves all of us,” Gabe whispered. “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Lance looked down at Gabe and smiled. Gabe smiled back. He had given his first talk—with some help from his older brother.

I am the sixth of eight children. My father left us, and our family faced great challenges. My mother had three jobs, and that was not enough to make ends meet.
A little while ago, one of my brothers and I talked about our early years. My seven siblings and I were born over a period of sixteen years. That means my mother had an average of one child every two years for sixteen consecutive years.
To be honest, I did not know, and perhaps I still do not fully understand, the challenges mothers experience after giving birth to a child, including physical and emotional stress such as postpartum depression. Surely my mother experienced many of these challenges. I remember that there were times when part of her frustration was externalized with us.
I was ten years old when the gospel of Jesus Christ came into our lives. My mother, who was less active, allowed four of my brothers and me to be baptized. My oldest sister was already married and the two youngest were not yet eight years old. The missionaries helped my mother forgive people who had hurt her, and she returned to Church activity.
Today I testify that the gospel of Jesus Christ helped me and prepared me in many aspects to break the vicious cycle of having a failed marriage. My wife and I celebrated 28 years of marriage in June. Like all marriages, ours is not perfect, but the gospel of Jesus Christ has helped us a lot. One part of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” reads:
“The family is ordained of God. Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”1
Scripture study has helped a lot, both personally and in my family. When our children were young, like all families with young children, it was not easy to get the attention of our children. We had to be very creative. Fortunately, Sister Villanueva was very talented at teaching our little ones. For example, when we were learning about the Word of Wisdom, she would have us cut out different pictures from magazines, such as pictures of fruits, vegetables, boxes of cereal or some other nutritious foods. Also, she would ask us to cut out advertisements of alcohol, tobacco, coffee, etc. After reading some scriptures and explaining the Word of Wisdom, she asked our children to throw away those things that affected our bodies badly. This process kept the little ones entertained. It did not stop them from being restless and noisy, but they did learn.
I remember an experience that Elder K. Brett Nattress shared with us in a general conference address. His mother read the scriptures to him and his brother every day during breakfast, and he acted irreverently along with his brother. One day he questioned his mother asking her why she did that every morning and she told him something that just remembering it embarrassed him. Let me share his own words:
“I told her, ‘Mom, I am not listening!’
“Her loving response was a defining moment in my life. She said, ‘Son, I was at a meeting where President Marion G. Romney [1897–1988] taught about the blessings of scripture reading. During this meeting, I received a promise that if I would read the Book of Mormon to my children every day, I would not lose them.’ She then looked at me straight in the eyes and, with absolute determination, said, ‘And I will not lose you!’”2
We live in a very noisy world. President Russell M. Nelson said, “My dear brothers and sisters, the assaults of the adversary are increasing exponentially, in intensity and in variety . . . I plead with you to take a prayerful look at how you spend your time. Invest time in your future and in that of your family.”3
I have really enjoyed the Come Follow Me program It has helped me to be diligent and organized in my study of the scriptures. It provides a structured approach to scripture study. Attending Church and attending classes reaffirms what I accomplish during my study at home. This is what the Lord taught us through our beloved President Nelson about the importance of home-centered, Church-supported gospel learning.
It is also important to attend Church every Sunday, to renew our covenants by partaking of the sacrament, in which we promise to keep the commandments of God and to always remember our Lord, Jesus Christ. In return, we are promised that we will have the Holy Ghost constantly with us. President Nelson has taught that in these days we cannot survive without the guiding, pacifying and constant influence of the Holy Spirit.4 His help will assist us in making important decisions each day. Don’t worry if sometimes your children don’t seem to be very reverent. Do your best and be creative and patient.
I remember a few years ago my wife was the ward pianist, and I was a counselor in the stake presidency. She would manage to sit our children near the piano and from there she would try to control them. One day, one of our sons was fighting with his younger sister. My wife would give them a stern look from the piano. At the end of the services, while we were in the car, my wife told my son that he had been irreverent during sacrament meeting, and that he had not paid attention to the talks. He said that he had paid attention, so my wife asked him who spoke. He mentioned the names of the speakers and explained what they had talked about.
Dear sisters and brothers, our children learn when they attend Church on Sundays. When they are little, they feel the Spirit in Primary through the classes and when they sing the Primary songs.
I testify that happiness in the family has a greater possibility of being achieved if we focus on the gospel of Jesus Christ. The study of the scriptures with Come Follow Me, attending Church to renew our covenants, and attending the temple, among other things, will help us to remain firm in the covenant path.

Women in the Apia Samoa East Stake told us,

We . . . decided to approach the government if it was all right for the Stake Relief Society sisters to plant some flowers around the town clock. We chose the town clock because it is right in the middle of the town, and we felt it would be just the right place to have a beautiful garden. Its flowers would bear the theme of the Relief Society, “Charity Never Faileth.” The government was thrilled. . . . They thanked us wholeheartedly, and then they asked us if there was any way we could paint the 20-foot clock tower as well. We told them . . . we would see what we could do. . . . The stake did not have money, which did not worry us a bit. We only wanted them to approve it, as we had a strong feeling and belief if it was the will of the Lord, things will work out. . . . Paints and equipment were donated, professional painters offered themselves and their time, and the priesthood of our . . . stake also helped out with the work. The sisters of the eight units of our stake worked in scraping the old paint off, scrubbing and cleaning the clock tower, and, of course, in planting the flowers. We will be taking turns in maintaining the gardens there for the whole year. Again, the sisters were generous and willing.

These powerful truths were life-changing for my friend Jen, who as a teenager caused a serious car accident. Though her physical trauma was severe, she felt exquisite pain because the other driver lost her life. “Someone lost their mom, and it was my fault,” she says. Jen, who just days before stood and recited, “We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us,” now questioned, “How could He love me?”

“The physical suffering passed,” she says, “but I didn’t think I would ever heal from the emotional and spiritual wounds.”

In order to survive, Jen hid her feelings deeply, becoming distant and numb. After a year, when she was finally able to talk about the accident, an inspired counselor invited her to write the phrase “I am a child of God” and say it 10 times daily.

“Writing the words was easy,” she recalls, “but I couldn’t speak them. … That made it real, and I didn’t really believe God wanted me as His child. I would curl up and cry.”

After several months, Jen was finally able to complete the task every day. “I poured out my whole soul,” she says, “pleading with God. … Then I began to believe the words.” This belief allowed the Savior to begin mending her wounded soul. The Book of Mormon brought comfort and courage in His Atonement.

“Christ felt my pains, my sorrows, my guilt,” Jen concludes. “I felt God’s pure love and had never experienced anything so powerful! Knowing I am a child of God is the most powerful knowledge I possess!”

Armed with cleaning rags, needed supplies, and lots of heart, more than 400 youth in Nampa, Idaho, set out to do some good in their community. In a citywide effort that included 20 wards and 1 branch in the 2 Nampa stakes, the youth committed a Saturday to serving. But they also spent weeks in preparation: making quilts, practicing programs, and organizing food, clothing, and toy drives. On the day of the project they did everything from stacking firewood for the elderly in their wards to filling the supply closets at shelters. Following all their service the youth got a much-deserved rest, including a testimony meeting, dinner, and a dance.

I understood that it was common for members to receive their temple endowment before entering the mission field, so I started preparing to enter. I knew that one of the changes that would occur in my life would be committing to wear the temple garment. I hadn’t thought much about garments before I started to prepare for the temple, so I didn’t have any preconceived notions about wearing them.
After moving to college, I worked with my bishop and went to institute every week. My institute instructor was kind enough to offer tailored temple preparation instruction for several weeks up until my endowment date. This was a tender mercy, considering that I was away from my home ward and didn’t have any family in the Church to guide me. Eventually I received my mission call to Paraguay, and I was ready to go to the temple for the first time.
Going to the temple felt like returning home. Even putting on garments for the first time felt like the missing piece to a puzzle I was trying to solve. I understood that my covenant to wear the garment was an important step in my spiritual progression, and although this decision is sacred and personal, I made it happily because I knew that the knowledge I would gain about my divinity as a daughter of God was above anything the world could offer me.
After I received my endowment, the biggest adjustment was not in how I felt when wearing garments but in the new wardrobe I had to build up thereafter. I purged a lot of clothes in my closet that wouldn’t cover my garments.
However, making those changes in my life felt right. Because I put in the time to prepare for the temple, the adjustment to my wardrobe was a happy, easy experience. And as I strived to learn more, I deepened my testimony that committing to wear the temple garment is more than just an adjustment in wardrobe—it is a symbol of my devotion to my Savior, Jesus Christ, and my choice to follow Him. It is also a gift—a tangible reminder of my temple covenants and the power, protection, and blessings available to me through the Savior’s atoning sacrifice.
My only expectation going into the temple the day of my endowment was to feel God’s love for me. I was able to feel that in the temple more abundantly than ever, and I was determined to keep my covenants and wear my garments because I never wanted that feeling to go away.
During the loneliest and most treacherous times of my life, my testimony of simple, bedrock gospel principles has nudged me to wear my garments always and intentionally while striving to keep the covenants I made in the temple.
I find great comfort in these words from President Russell M. Nelson:
“Whenever any kind of upheaval occurs in your life, the safest place to be spiritually is living inside your temple covenants!
“Please believe me when I say that when your spiritual foundation is built solidly upon Jesus Christ, you have no need to fear. As you are true to your covenants made in the temple, you will be strengthened by His power. Then, when spiritual earthquakes occur, you will be able to stand strong because your spiritual foundation is solid and immovable.”1
My life has not become easier since joining the Church. In fact, the most trying times of my life occurred after my baptism. However, I know that my knowledge of the restored gospel and the strength from the covenants I made in the temple have made these challenges bearable, and the outcomes would have been drastically different without my faith in Jesus Christ.
It’s challenging to live intentionally as a disciple of Christ when the world seems to be at odds with the standards that I strive to keep. But as President Nelson stated, the best refuge for me is living within my temple covenants, including wearing my garments the way I promised to. And as I continue to do so and stay on the covenant path, I know I will experience joy.

During this time, I found great comfort in the talk “Grateful in Any Circumstances” from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. His teachings spoke peace to my broken heart, including these words:
“Some are facing the end of a cherished relationship, such as the death of a loved one or estrangement from a family member. Others feel they are facing the end of hope—the hope of being married or bearing children or overcoming an illness. Others may be facing the end of their faith, as confusing and conflicting voices in the world tempt them to question, even abandon, what they once knew to be true.
“Sooner or later, I believe that all of us experience times when the very fabric of our world tears at the seams, leaving us feeling alone, frustrated, and adrift.
“It can happen to anyone. No one is immune.
“Everyone’s situation is different, and the details of each life are unique. Nevertheless, I have learned that there is something that would take away the bitterness that may come into our lives. There is one thing we can do to make life sweeter, more joyful, even glorious.
“We can be grateful!”2
Based on Elder Uchtdorf’s talk, I started keeping a gratitude journal. In the wake of our twins’ deaths, I’d started experiencing uncontrollable anxiety and despair; the simple act of writing down the good things that had happened each day gave me the courage to let go of the bitterness and blame that had consumed me. I learned to be grateful for every day that I am alive and for the experiences that God gives me. I am a much happier person, despite our losses; I’ve learned to be “thankful in [my] circumstances—whatever they may be.”3

“Choose your friends wisely, for you will tend to be like them.” I had seen this little sign a million times and never thought anything of it. It was only one of many strategically placed thoughts and quotes that dotted the walls of our home. This one happened to be in the best location of all—right above the kitchen table.
When friends came over, we naturally congregated in the kitchen. Dates, late night movies, and quick lunches almost all involved the kitchen. Mom knew this and planned her attack accordingly. Years later I realized what a direct hit Mom had scored.
I was blessed with a lot of friends who are also members of the Church. We went to church and school together, and most of us went on missions at about the same time. However, there was one who was not exactly like the rest of us. His parents were divorced, and he was shuffled between their homes and the homes of friends. As a result, I think he always felt a little isolated and alone. He wore his hair long and always had at least one earring. Regardless, we loved him, and he was one of us.
During high school we witnessed him change; it was great. A short time after his 19th birthday he submitted his mission papers and received a call. A couple of months later we really understood the significance of this event.
The realization came on a cold, crisp Sunday in January. My friends and I had gathered to hear this young man speak in sacrament meeting. I had been invited to perform a musical number, so I sat on the stand. As I gazed over the crowd, I saw all of our friends, as well as my family; it was a wonderful sight. As my friend ventured to the pulpit, his eyes were a little red.
His talk opened with a question: “Do any of you know why I am here? Well, it is really very simple. I am here because of the many meals eaten at a friend’s table, a table with a sign above it that reads, ‘Choose your friends wisely, for you will tend to be like them.’ I want my friends to know that without their influence and love I wouldn’t be here today.”
As I looked down into the crowd, I saw my mother with teary eyes and a smile.
From that day on, I have also thought about the effects my friends have had on my life. I don’t know if I would have served a mission without their example. I don’t know what kind of a person I would be today if it hadn’t been for the strength and love I received from such wonderful people. For that, I will be forever grateful, both to them and to my Heavenly Father.
I know that no one has forgotten the message shared from that pulpit. I also know that that sign, to this day, still hangs above our kitchen table.

He just didn’t look like my grandpa anymore. Or act like him, either. It was like Grandpa was gone and had left an old man who sat in the recliner and stared out the window.
“I don’t know if I want to go to his birthday party tomorrow, after all,” I told Mom. “Maybe this whole thing isn’t such a great idea.” When she didn’t say anything, I added, “He used to be so much fun.”
Mom raised her eyes from the knitting in her lap. Her eyes were sad. “Well, you know why, Cari. Right?”
I nodded. Of course I did. Grandpa was sick. He couldn’t swim or play Ping-Pong or do much of anything anymore. Before I went to bed that night, I picked up the framed picture that sat on my bookshelf. It was a photograph of Grandpa turning a cartwheel. His big sneakers waved wildly in the air. Those stupid cartwheels!
Oh, when I was a little kid, I thought it was cool. But as I got older, I realized how ridiculous it was to have your grandfather doing stunts like that. What was he thinking—that he was an acrobat or something? I wondered. Talk about embarrassing!
After a while, I started staying away from Grandpa. For as long as I could remember, I’d been going over to his house after school. Grandpa taught me to snorkel and to bake bread. But when I refused to turn cartwheels with him these past couple of years, he never understood why. Somehow I don’t think he realized that I might be humiliated by something he did.
“Why should I?” I’d say.
Grandpa would chuckle. He’d take off, bounce on his toes, then spring sideways. “For the pure joy of it!” he’d call as his feet whizzed over his head. Once upright, he’d grin and say, “‘This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.’”*
Whatever, I’d think. But I wouldn’t be caught dead turning a cartwheel. It was bad enough watching him act like that.
Later I’d actually avoided Grandpa whenever I could. Oh, I dropped by after school—but only because Mom asked me to check on him. I’d stand by the front door and ask, “Anything I can do for you?”
Grandpa’s eyes looked duller every day. “I’m fine, Cari. Thanks.”
I’d put my hand on the doorknob. “Well, then …”
He’d nod. “Go find something fun to do.”
But looking at that picture made my eyes burn. I gulped at the piano-sized lump in my throat, but it didn’t go away. I slapped the picture facedown on my bookshelf and crawled under the covers. After a while, I actually went to sleep.
I was watching TV the next afternoon, the day of Grandpa’s party, when the electricity went out.
I wandered around the house. The clock on the mantel said four o’clock. Great. Mom wouldn’t be home for about an hour and a half. I could only hope that the power would be back on tonight while Mom was at Grandpa’s birthday party. In the meantime, … what? Idly, I picked up the picture of Grandpa from my bookshelf. The look on his face caught me, held me. That smile! Even upside down, anyone could see it came straight from his heart.
My chest ached. I got up and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like someone who had lost her best friend. My mouth turned down; my eyes, hazel like Grandpa’s, were dull. The thought struck me—I looked the way Grandpa had looked this afternoon after school as I’d stood with my hand on his doorknob, waiting to get away from him. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Grandpa must feel like he’s lost his best friend too. And wasn’t it true about both of us? But did it have to be this way?
I heard Grandpa’s voice saying, “‘This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.’”
Wasn’t it about time I started rejoicing? The girl in the mirror straightened her shoulders. The reflected eyes brightened. Suddenly I had a mission—and not much time!
“You’re coming to the party?” Mom had an ear-to-ear smile as she put the final touches on the cake. “That’s great, Cari. It will make Grandpa so happy.”
I nodded, opened my mouth to say something, but couldn’t figure out what to say or how to say it, so closed my mouth.
Mom squeezed my shoulder. “I know,” she said softly.
And that’s how it happened that while Mom was cooking lasagna in Grandpa’s kitchen, I was turning cartwheels in Grandpa’s living room. With my aunts and uncles and cousins and cousins’ boyfriends and girlfriends there, I was playing to a full house. Let’s face it, I was hardly poetry in motion. Even with the afternoon of practicing, I was pretty rusty.
I heard one cousin mutter to another, “It takes all kinds.” The other one said, “Yeah, what a show-off, huh?” And, I have to admit, I felt like a clown! Maybe this had been an absolutely ridiculous idea after all.
But then I saw the grin on Grandpa’s face, the old sparkle in his eyes. He had the exact same look on his face that he used to have when he was doing this stunt for me. And he laughed. A laugh that seemed to come from his toes.
I had to stop and just watch him for a while. I guess it was the first time I ever saw a heart cartwheel!

At the beach one day a group of young boys had driven their car too far out in the sand, and it was imbedded deeply. All their combined strength seemed insufficient to dislodge it. I offered to assist them, but the vile language they were using repelled me away from them. Teenagers were using the holy names of their Creator as though he were their creation. I shrank from the blasphemy and left them.

My daughters, ages 8 and 10, seemed to be growing farther and farther apart. As their mother, I ached inside to see the bickering between them and the mean looks they often directed at each other.
During this time I was praying earnestly to the Lord to help me with my own weaknesses. I prayed that He would help me learn what I needed to learn about charity, and I was led to some beautiful passages of scripture.
One night things came to a head with my daughters. I lost my temper and, after ranting and raving at them, stormed outside to cool down and think. After a few minutes, the Spirit began to soften my heart, prompting me to go inside and apologize to my eldest daughter, who had caught the worst of my temper.
As I entered her bedroom, I saw my 10-year-old daughter kneeling beside her bed, weeping. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I don’t know what to do.” She told me she wanted to pray and read her scriptures so she would feel better, but she couldn’t because she felt so bad.
When she told me how sorry she felt for her part in our quarrel and then said I was not to blame, oh, what shame I felt. We talked a while and then turned to the scriptures, where I read to her about charity, “the pure love of Christ” (Moroni 7:47), and shared some of the things I had learned. At that point her younger sister looked in the room, and we invited her to join us. I then explained, in words an eight-year-old could understand, what we had read about charity.
After I had finished, both girls turned to me with big eyes and expressed a desire to be filled with this great love spoken of in the scriptures. We then knelt and, as Mormon counseled, humbly asked the Father to fill us with this love (see Moroni 7:48).
Touched by the Spirit, we could not help but weep. We rose from our knees, embraced, and expressed our love for each other. At that moment I saw an eternal sisterhood and friendship begin to bloom between my daughters, and I was comforted.
Their relationship has continued to grow since then. They have a greater desire to work out their differences, show more patience, and share their belongings. I am grateful for their righteous desires and efforts.
I will always treasure that experience, and I pray that there will be more like it as we continue to strengthen the bonds of charity and love in our home.

I was also able to enjoy that same Christ-centered culture growing up in a home where my father honored his priesthood and gained the trust of the entire family due to “the integrity of his heart.” Let me share with you an experience from my youth that illustrates the lasting positive impact that a father who understands and lives the principle of trust built on integrity can have on his family.

When I was very young, my father founded a company that specialized in factory automation. This business engineered, fabricated, and installed automated production lines worldwide.

When I was in middle school, my father wanted me to learn how to work. He also wanted me to learn the business from the ground up. My first job included maintaining the grounds and painting areas of the facility not visible to the general public.

When I entered high school, I was promoted to work on the factory floor. I started to learn how to read blueprints and run heavy steel fabrication machinery. After high school graduation, I attended university and then entered the mission field. Returning home from my mission, I went straight back to work. I needed to earn money for the next year’s school expenses.

One day soon after my mission, I was working in the factory when my father called me into his office and asked if I would like to go with him on a business trip to Los Angeles. This was the first time my father invited me to accompany him on a business trip. He was actually letting me go out in public to help represent the company.

Before we left on the trip, he prepared me with a few details about this potential new client. First, the client was a multinational corporation. Second, they were upgrading their production lines worldwide with the latest in automation technology. Third, our company had never previously supplied them with engineering services or technology. And finally, their top corporate officer in charge of purchasing had called this meeting to review our bid on a new project. This meeting represented a new and potentially important opportunity for our company.

After arriving in Los Angeles, my father and I went to the executive’s hotel for the meeting. The first order of business was to discuss and analyze the engineering design specifications of the project. The next discussion item concerned operational details, including logistics and delivery dates. The concluding agenda item focused on pricing, terms, and conditions. This is where things got interesting.

This corporate officer explained to us that our price proposal was the lowest of those who had submitted bids on the project. He then, curiously, told us the price of the second-lowest bid. He then asked us if we would be willing to take our proposal back and resubmit it. He stated that our new price should come in just below the next highest bid. He then explained that we would split the newly added dollars 50–50 with him. He rationalized this by saying that everyone would win. Our company would win because we would be making considerably more money than our original bid provided. His company would win because they would still be doing business with the lowest bidder. And, of course, he would win by taking his cut because he put this great deal together.

He then gave us a post office box number where we could send the money he requested. After all of this, he looked at my father and asked, “So, do we have a deal?” Much to my surprise, my father stood up, shook his hand, and told him we would get back to him.

After leaving the meeting, we got into the rental car, and my father turned to me and asked, “Well, what do you think we should do?”

I responded by saying I didn’t think we should accept this offer.

My father then asked, “Don’t you think we have a responsibility to all of our employees to maintain a good backlog of work?”

While I was contemplating his question and before I could answer, he answered his own question. He said, “Listen, Rick, once you take a bribe or compromise your integrity, it is very difficult to ever get it back. Don’t ever do it, not even once.”

The fact that I’m sharing this experience means that I have never forgotten what my father taught me on that first business trip with him. I share this experience to illustrate the lasting influence we have as fathers. You can imagine the trust I had in my father due to the integrity of his heart. He lived these same principles in his private life with my mother, his children, and all with whom he associated.

My first contact with President N. Eldon Tanner was in Canada more than twenty years ago. We had called a thirty-minute meeting for 7:00 p.m., prior to the other meetings, just to meet with the stake presidents. I remember well that night when seven o’clock arrived—two of us were there. I was there and a man I had never met before, a President Tanner. I will never forget the remark and the lesson that I learned as I looked at my watch, saw that it was seven o’clock and asked this man I had never met before, “President Tanner, what do you suggest we do?”

He looked at me and replied, “You’re here; I’m here; it’s seven o’clock. Let’s start.”