Gospel Story Finder

That learning experience with my family member shaped the outcome of another conflict I had. A few months ago, I had a disagreement with a friend, and it ended in an ugly, messy falling-out that splintered our friend group and left a lot of awkward tension behind. At first, I wanted to patch things up, but I was afraid of making the situation worse, so I avoided speaking with her.
Eventually, she messaged me, laying out her perspective in a direct but civil way. I was grateful she was being respectful, but I was still petrified. I spent hours that night crafting a response, my hands shaking as I typed. I ended up with a lengthy message that I felt was risky to send but necessary to say. I decided to let it sit for a while, and one thought kept coming back to me: “Is it Christlike?”
I thought about how Jesus confronted the Pharisees (see Matthew 22:15–46) and cast the money changers from the temple (see John 2:13–16). I knew that being Christlike sometimes meant saying things that people didn’t want to hear. But I kept thinking, “The difference is that Jesus understands this person perfectly, and I don’t.”
I decided to pray about what to say and then sleep on it. In the morning, I responded with a message addressing each of her points, acknowledging that I’d hurt her, and sincerely apologizing. I explained why I had made certain choices and was honest about my feelings but careful not to sound accusatory or unkind.
“Thanks for explaining your side,” I concluded, “and thanks for hearing me out.”
To my relief, she responded positively. We were both glad to resolve the conflict peacefully.
I was again struck by how important it was to simply listen.
When she explained her feelings, I was surprised by how similar they were to mine. While I couldn’t understand her perfectly, the way Jesus does, my view of her and the situation shifted as I listened and tried to understand her feelings. I could see that, like me, she wanted to be heard, respected, and loved.
And isn’t that what we all want?

In a faraway country many years ago there lived a king who was very unhappy. He had much land and many servants. He had many riches and fine clothes and fast chariots. But he was not happy.
One day the king said, “Perhaps I would be happy if we changed the color of the velvet hangings in the throne room. Royal blue might be a better color.” And all the servants in the royal palace ran to change the color of the velvet hangings in the throne room.
When this was done the king sat on his throne and looked at the beautiful blue folds of the shimmering velvet hangings, and he liked them. But he was not happy.
Perhaps if I had white rabbit fur on my royal robe, that would make me happy, thought the king. So all the king’s trappers scurried around and caught enough rabbits to trim the royal robe with rabbit fur. Then the king sat on his throne dressed in the royal robe trimmed with rabbit fur and the people all admired him. But he was not happy.
Said the king, “Perhaps if I had six horses instead of four to pull my chariot through the streets, then I would be happy.” The servants in the fields brought in another span of fine white horses for the king’s golden chariot, and the king rode through the streets with six horses pulling his chariot. Although the people smiled and waved to him, the king still was not happy.
One day a wise man said, “Oh, king, there are many people in your kingdom who have not half as much as you and yet they are happy. Perhaps if you could wear the shirt of one of them, it would make you happy too.” The king thought about this suggestion and decided that it was a good idea. So he dressed in some old clothes and left on foot to travel throughout his kingdom, seeking a man who was perfectly happy.
The first man he came to was fishing from a small boat on a beautiful blue lake. The king beckoned to him and the man rowed to shore. “Are you happy?” asked the king.
“Of course,” said the man.
“Are you quite sure you are perfectly happy?” asked the king again.
“Well,” said the man, “if I had a bigger boat I could go out farther and get bigger fish. Then I would be even happier.”
“Too bad,” said the king and went on.
The next man he met was chopping wood in the forest with a large axe. “Are you happy?” the king asked.
“Of course,” said the man.
“Are you quite sure you are perfectly happy?” asked the king.
“Well,” said the woodcutter, “if I had a saw that would run by itself and do the cutting faster, I would be happier.”
“Too bad,” said the king.
The next man he met was plowing a field with a hand plow and a single golden ox. The sun was shining, the farmer was whistling, the birds were following in the furrows behind him, and little breezes lifted the grass along the bank where his plow went.
“Are you happy?” called the king.
“Yes,” said the man as he went whistling along.
“Are you perfectly happy?” asked the king. “Don’t you wish you had a fine team of horses to pull your plow?”
“No,” said the man. “I like the easy pace of my faithful friend, and I like to smell the good air. I enjoy watching the rich earth turn into furrows, and it gives me pleasure to whistle along with the birds.”
“Aha,” said the king to himself. “Here is a perfectly happy man.” Walking up to the farmer the king asked, “Where is your shirt that I may borrow it?”
“Oh,” said the happy man, “I have no shirt, for I need none. The sun is warm, the plowed earth is soft to my feet, the breezes keep the air sweet, the birds sing with me as I walk, and I am perfectly happy.” Then the man started down another row.
“Wait,” said the king. And he took off his shirt and laid it on the ground. He put his hand to the plow and worked all day with the man. The sun warmed him, the birds sang to him, and the man talked to him of the good and beautiful things of the earth.
And the king was happy.

One day in math, a young woman I’ve known since last year wanted to hear me swear, just to see how the teacher reacted. I told her I do not use inappropriate language, but she kept pressuring me. At first I was tempted to use her words against her, but when my hand touched the familiar heart around my neck, I knew I couldn’t fall into temptation. Instead, I told her that no matter how hard she tries, I would be true to my standards. As I talked, she seemed amazed that I stood up for what I believe in. She left me alone after that.

Upon Bob’s completing his four-year military commitment, his commanding officer recommended him to Harvard Business School. That is where he reconnected with my father, a fellow student. The rigor of the first-year MBA curriculum was known to be very high. A crusty professor started the semester by saying, “Look at the two people sitting next to you. One of you three won’t be here next semester.”

Bob was already concerned about his relative lack of emphasis on academics in college, and his time in the Air Force left him feeling rusty as a student. He wasn’t bookish, to say the least.

Then, early in the first semester of the Harvard MBA program, Bob was called as an Elder’s Quorum President. That responsibility came on top of being the father of two young sons. Without Mary’s generalship at home, there would have been an emotional and academic train wreck. After much prayer and discussion, Mary said, “I’d rather have an active priesthood holder than a man who holds a master’s degree from Harvard, but we’ll do them both.”

Bob distinguished himself as a Harvard graduate. Thanks to baseball and the Air Force, he had “street smarts.” At graduation, he had his pick of business opportunities. In the succeeding decades he held senior-leadership positions in four large companies.

You and I have been blessed with the promise of such an inheritance. I owe much of my happiness in life to a man I never met in mortal life. He was an orphan who became one of my great-grandparents. He left me a priceless heritage of hope. Let me tell you some of the part he played in creating that inheritance for me.
His name was Heinrich Eyring. He was born into great wealth. His father, Edward, had a large estate in Coburg, in what is now Germany. His mother was Viscountess Charlotte Von Blomberg. Her father was the keeper of the lands of the king of Prussia.
Heinrich was Charlotte and Edward’s first son. Charlotte died at the age of 31, after the birth of her third child. Edward died soon thereafter, having lost all his property and wealth in a failed investment. He was only 40 years of age. He left three orphaned children.
Heinrich, my great-grandfather, had lost both of his parents and a great worldly inheritance. He was penniless. He recorded in his history that he felt his best hope lay in going to America. Although he had neither family nor friends there, he had a feeling of hope about going to America. He first went to New York City. Later he moved to St. Louis, Missouri.
In St. Louis one of his co-workers was a Latter-day Saint. From him he obtained a copy of a pamphlet written by Elder Parley P. Pratt. He read it and then studied every word he could obtain about the Latter-day Saints. He prayed to know if there really were angels that appeared to men, whether there was a living prophet, and whether he had found a true and revealed religion.
After two months of careful study and prayer, Heinrich had a dream in which he was told he was to be baptized. A man whose name and priesthood I hold in sacred memory, Elder William Brown, was to perform the ordinance. Heinrich was baptized in a pool of rainwater on March 11, 1855, at 7:30 in the morning.
I believe that Heinrich Eyring knew then that what I am teaching you today is true. He knew that the happiness of eternal life comes through family bonds which continue forever. Even when he had so recently found the Lord’s plan of happiness, he knew that his hope for eternal joy depended on the free choices of others to follow his example. His hope of eternal happiness depended on people not yet born.
As a part of our family’s inheritance of hope, he left a history to his descendants.
In that history I can feel his love for those of us who would follow him. In his words I feel his hope that his descendants might choose to follow him on the path back to our heavenly home. He knew it would not be one great choice to make to do so but many small choices. I quote from his history:
“From the time I first heard Elder Andrus speak … I have always attended the meeting of the Latter day Saints and the instances are very rare indeed, when I [have] failed to go to meeting, it being at the same time my duty to do so.
“I name this in my history that my children may imitate my example and never neglect this … important duty [to assemble] with the Saints.”1
Heinrich knew that in sacrament meetings we could renew our promise to always remember the Savior and have His Spirit to be with us.
It was that Spirit that sustained him on the mission to which he was called only a few months after accepting the baptismal covenant. He left as his heritage his example of staying faithful to his mission for six years in what was then called the Indian Territories. To receive his release from his mission, he walked and joined a wagon train from Oklahoma to Salt Lake City, a distance of approximately 1,100 miles (1,770 km).
Soon thereafter he was called by the prophet of God to move to southern Utah. From there he answered another call to serve a mission in his native Germany. He then accepted the invitation of an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ to help build up the Latter-day Saint colonies in northern Mexico. From there he was called to Mexico City as a full-time missionary again. He honored those calls. He lies buried in a small cemetery in Colonia Juárez, Chihuahua, Mexico.
I recite these facts not to claim greatness for him or for what he did or for his descendants. I recite those facts to honor him for the example of faith and hope that was in his heart.
He accepted those calls because of his faith that the resurrected Christ and our Heavenly Father had appeared to Joseph Smith in a grove of trees in the state of New York. He accepted them because he had faith that the priesthood keys in the Lord’s Church had been restored with the power to seal families forever, if only they had sufficient faith to keep their covenants.

At age 54, before he was called as a General Authority, President Russell M. Nelson attended a meeting in which President Spencer W. Kimball challenged attendees to “be of service to the Chinese” and “learn their language.”

Although he was a busy heart surgeon at the time, President Nelson took this counsel to heart. He found a tutor to help him learn the Mandarin language.

It wasn’t long before President Nelson found himself sitting next to a distinguished Chinese surgeon, Dr. Wu Yingkai, at a medical convention. Because of his Chinese language studies, President Nelson was able to have a conversation with Dr. Wu. From there, the two doctors formed a lasting friendship and even visited each other’s countries.

President Nelson’s goal to learn Mandarin led to positive exchanges with China, as President Kimball had hoped for. After he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, President Nelson even performed his last heart surgery on China’s most famous opera singer by special request.

As we recognize the Lord's hand in our circumstances, we better understand the nature of the peace the Savior promises. I recall a few years ago when one of our sons was on his mission, a close friend of mine had his missionary son killed in a tragic auto accident. As I sought to share my condolences and sympathy with him, I found that he and his wife had already received the Savior's promised peace. And while they missed their son very much, they were grateful for the atonement and the blessing it had been in their hour of need.

Whatever our circumstances in this life – be they sickness, financial misfortune, or any of the other challenges that accompany mortality – through the exercise of our agency, the atonement's promised blessings of peace can be ours.

When Babe was about eight years old, she earned money for a harmonica by cutting some neighbors’ grass. It was so high that she had to cut it with a sickle before she could mow it. When she got the harmonica, she practiced for hours and hours. Her brothers played the drums, two of her sisters played the piano, her other sister and her father played the violin, her mother sang, and Babe played her harmonica. Even when she was older and famous for her athletic prowess, she was good enough to play her harmonica in public.

After our missions, we both had a feeling that we would meet our eternal companions in Provo, Utah. One Sunday, I met with my Bishop and he pronounced a blessing on my head, that when I met my eternal companion, our children would dance around us. My father had given me a blessing a couple months before I met Jr. He said that the way you will meet your eternal companion would be like none other before. I would like to share with you the story about how we met. The week I met my husband was most likely the toughest week I had ever had while attending school. Things just seemed to be falling apart for me. I felt like a failure. My friend, Opapo Fonoimoana, who had served with my husband in Jamaica, that his mission companion was coming to visit. However, I was not very interested. One morning I was getting ready for work as I put on my make up, I could hear these words loud and clear, “Opapo’s mission companion is so handsome,” “Opapo’s mission companion is very wonderful.” I looked at the mirror, and asked, “who is Opapo’s mission companion?” The voice kept on, “Opapo’s mission companion is so sweet. Opapo’s mission companion is so beautiful!” I didn’t understand what I was hearing but I could not deny what I heard. Later that afternoon, I walked in my home to meet Opapo, on the ground there sat his mission companion. He got up to shake my hand, the moment our hands touched, and there was such an electric shock that raced through my hand to the rest of my body that I took my hand back quickly. I had never felt anything like it before. That week, my husband had a strong prompting to ask me out, I said yes, and the rest is history.

We were blessed with children immediately. One day, when my oldest was about three, he said to me when I was cooking dinner in the kitchen, “Mommy your handsome prince is home! Mommy your wonderful husband is home.” At that moment, my memory recalled the voices I heard that morning when I was putting on my make-up. Our Heavenly Father allowed me, with tender mercy, to identify the voice that had brought my husband and I together. It was our oldest son Sefanaia. Bishop’s blessing came to my mind, “When you meet your eternal companion, your children will dance around you.”

Aaron’s mother came through the door, a bag of groceries in her arms.
“Mom!” Aaron jumped up and gave her a hug. He took the groceries and set them on the kitchen counter.
Aaron was home alone in their apartment after school while his mother worked. It was only for a couple of hours, but it was the loneliest time of the day.
“Hey, Buddy,” she said, “got your homework done?”
“Yep. What’s for supper?” he asked as he showed her his notebook.
Aaron’s mother sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just sit down for a few minutes before I get us something to eat.” She sat down in her “resting chair.”
Aaron’s mom was usually tired after work. His dad didn’t live there anymore, so it was just the two of them.
Aaron hid a small disappointed sigh. His mom put her head back on the chair and closed her eyes.
A few minutes later the phone rang. “Hello,” Aaron answered politely, “Jackson residence.”
“Hi, sugar. How’s my boy?” a familiar voice asked.
“Grandma! I’m just fine. What’s up?”
“I just called to wish your mom a happy birthday. Is she home yet?”
“Yes,” he answered, “but she’s asleep. I didn’t know it was Mom’s birthday. I’ll go wake her up.”
“No, child,” his grandma said quickly. “Don’t bother her while she’s resting. I’ll call back later tonight. Take care, sweetie!” And she hung up.
Aaron put the receiver back down. Hmmm, Mom’s birthday. …
He remembered his own birthday a few months ago. The cake and ice cream were great, and so was his present—a blue remote-control race car! Oh, how he had wanted one! His mom had said that it was too expensive, but somehow she’d managed to get one for him.
“I’ll have a party for Mom!” he said out loud. Oops! I’ll have to be quiet—and hurry! But what can I do? I don’t have any money, and I can’t go out alone, anyway. I’ll have to make something, instead—I know!
He went to his mother’s jewelry box. She had broken her favorite necklace a few weeks ago. It was made of beads from Africa and had belonged to Aaron’s great-grandmother. Aaron had helped his mom pick up all the beads when it broke, but she hadn’t had time to string them back together. He found some new string and carefully threaded it through the beads one by one. He couldn’t remember the exact pattern but came as close to it as he could.
The new string was a little shorter than the first one, but it would still fit over her head. There were a few beads left over, so he put them back into the jewelry box.
He tiptoed past his mother into the kitchen, wrapped the necklace in a blue paper napkin from the table, and found a piece of yarn for a bow. It made a nice present. But it looked kind of small all alone on the table.
I need a cake, he thought. He looked through the kitchen cabinets and spotted the peanut butter.
I know—I’ll make a peanut-butter-and-jelly cake! I hope we have some jelly.
Aaron got out bread, peanut butter, and jelly, put a slice of bread on a plate, and covered the top with peanut butter, then jelly. He put a second slice of bread on top of that and spread it with peanut butter and jelly too. A third piece of bread went on top of that. For the frosting he just spread a third layer of peanut butter. Carefully he wrote Happy Birthday in the peanut butter with a knife. It looked a little plain, so he put dots of jelly here and there for decoration. Perfect! He found two of the candles from his own birthday cake and put them on top. He wasn’t allowed to use matches, so his mom would have to light them.
Aaron heard her stirring in the next room. Please don’t wake up now—I’m not ready! he thought.
Finding a large yellow envelope in the trash, he cut off all the writing until he had a small piece of plain yellow paper. With a colored pen he wrote, “You’re the best, Mom!” After folding the card and putting it next to the present and cake, he hurried to put away the groceries that she had brought home. Then he even swept the kitchen floor.
Everything looked great! Aaron felt good about his hard work. Now he could hardly wait for his mother to wake up. He crouched down behind the table and fidgeted.
Finally he heard Mom get up and say, “Goodness! I’d better get supper on. I wonder what Aaron’s doing.” She walked into the kitchen. “Well, what’s all this?”
Aaron jumped up. “Surprise! Happy Birthday, Mom!” he shouted.
“Why, Aaron, did you do all this?”
“I sure did!”
Aaron couldn’t remember seeing his mom smile so much. She grabbed him up for a big hug. “This is the best kind of birthday!” she exclaimed happily. They laughed and danced around the kitchen.
“Here,” Aaron said. “Open your present!”
She opened the blue paper napkin. “Oh, honey, you fixed Grandmother’s necklace for me. It’s so beautiful. Strong too. And a card!”
She read the card. She looked at everything for a long time. “Buddy,” she said with tears in her eyes, “you’ve made today the most special day for me.” She held Aaron close. “I love you so much.”
“Aw, Mom,” he said, pulling away. But he did feel pretty special.
After a supper of soup and salad, they cut into Aaron’s cake and ate every bite!
Later, as Aaron’s mom was tucking him into bed, the phone rang. “That’s Grandma,” he said. “She called while you were asleep.”
Mom kissed him on the forehead. “Thanks for a wonderful birthday, Aaron. Sweet dreams.”
Aaron listened as Mom told Grandma all about the special birthday. She laughed as she talked, and sounded happy.
Aaron felt happy too. Yes, this was the best kind of birthday.

My parents established a family tradition in our home which was fun for me in my early years and has become even more meaningful as I reflect back on it as the years have passed. On the first birthday of each child, the family would gather in the living room. In the center of the living room floor, our parents would place articles for the one-year-old child to select. The selection to be made might indicate an interest the child would pursue in life. The articles were the Bible, a child’s bottle filled with milk, a toy, and a savings bank filled with coins. The child was placed on one side of the room and the family on the other side. Family members would encourage the child to crawl toward the objects and make a selection. This was all in fun, of course.
I was told that I selected the bank and went into finance as my profession. I watched my brother Ted select the scriptures, and he pursued law as his chosen profession. Over the years he has relied on the scriptures as a basis for his judgments. My youngest brother, Bob, was the well-rounded member of the family. He crawled over, sat down on the Bible, put the bottle of milk in his mouth, and then held the toy in one hand and the bank in the other.

Now, the story I promised to tell you began before the October 1856 general conference, but that is where we will begin. President Brigham Young stood at the Old Tabernacle pulpit on this square and issued a call to go rescue the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies. Two days later, about 30 faithful brethren with good mule teams were dispatched to go bring in the handcarters stranded several hundred miles east. Dan W. Jones, a convert of about five years, volunteered.
After arduous effort, the Willie Company finally was found. Caught in the storms of early winter, the Saints were freezing and starving to death. The relief party did all they could to improve conditions, but for some it was simply too late. The morning after the rescuers’ arrival, nine of the company were buried in a common grave.
Some of the rescuers were assigned to escort the handcarters to the Salt Lake Valley, but others pushed further eastward in an effort to find the Martin Company. Finally they were found, along with the Hodgett and Hunt Wagon Companies, bogged down and helpless in the snow east of Devil’s Gate, Wyoming.
Members of the Martin Company were in dire straits. Their food rations had been cut to a few ounces of flour per day. Only a third of them could walk, and deaths were recorded daily.
The leaders of the rescue party wisely decided to spare no effort in getting the suffering survivors to safety in the Salt Lake Valley. Because of the shortage of space in the wagons, it was necessary to leave most of the handcarters’ possessions in storage at Devil’s Gate till spring.
Brother Dan W. Jones and two others from the relief party, along with 17 young men from the wagon companies, were called to stay behind to guard the property. They were left to face five winter months in Wyoming, hundreds of miles from help, with scarcely anything to eat, and under conditions of extreme privation. Imagine the sacrifice! Offers were made to each man to join the wagons bound for the valley, but every one of them chose to stay behind, obedient to the call to serve.
That winter was recorded as one of the most severe ever. The intrepid watchmen struggled to repair the cabins at Devil’s Gate; killed the remaining cattle; stored the tough, stringy beef for food; and reconditioned and stacked the goods they were left to protect.
They killed a few buffalo, but the hunting became bad. Soon they were reduced to living on animal hides, from which they scraped off the hair, then boiled the leather. They ate the leather wrappings off the wagon tongues, old moccasin soles, and a well-worn buffalo hide that had been used as a foot mat for two months. At one point Dan Jones was literally preparing to eat his own saddle!
In February of that extreme winter, a member of the Snake Indian tribe visited and helped them. That first night he and two scouts came to camp loaded with good buffalo meat.
The winter passed, and finally, early in May, the relief wagons began to roll in. Of the various communications Brother Jones had received, one critical letter from Brigham Young had not arrived. Loading and shipping of the stored goods could not commence without it.
For days they waited, becoming increasingly anxious. Finally Brother Jones sought the Lord in prayer to know how to proceed. He recorded the following testimony: “Next morning without saying anything about the lack of instructions we commenced business. Soon some one asked whose teams were to be loaded first, [and] I dictated to my clerk. Thus we continued. As fast as the clerk put them down, orders would be given, and we passed on to the next. We continued this [way] for four days. … All the teams were loaded up, companies organized and started back [to the valley]” (Daniel W. Jones, Forty Years among the Indians [1960], 107).
The 17 young men were loaded on the last wagons departing to the Salt Lake Valley, where they would be reunited with their families and loved ones.
Brother Jones arrived later to report to President Young, feeling not a little uncertain how he would be received. Should he have waited for the President’s written orders? As everything unfolded, it was learned that President Young had indeed dictated a letter of instructions, which was never received. Dan carefully presented his detailed report. It was a testimony to him to find that the inspiration he’d received in Wyoming was exactly the same as in the prophet’s letter.
Dan Jones’s young men had done more than they ever would have imagined they could:
They had crossed the plains in wagons and by handcart, mostly on foot.
They had seen many of their friends and relatives die along the way.
They had volunteered to spend the winter 300 miles from their destination.
They had survived a harsh winter with little food and few, if any, comforts.
They had heeded the call of the prophet to serve their fellow Saints.
They had endured to the end nobly and were blessed for their efforts.
I repeat, brethren: Ordinary men, blessed with the privilege of holding the priesthood of God, may be called upon to do extraordinary tasks and accomplish mighty feats through faith in that sacred power!
One of my Book of Mormon heroes, Ammon, the great son of Mosiah, explains how much two people can accomplish when one of them is the Lord: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever” (Alma 26:12).
To you young men of the Aaronic Priesthood and to you brethren of the Melchizedek Priesthood, I witness that we can perform “many mighty miracles,” as testified by Ammon and by Dan Jones! They took the Lord as their guide, listened to and obeyed the Holy Spirit, and learned that they could indeed perform mighty miracles, which thing they never had supposed.
Our own challenges in this day will be great. Our needs will be significant. Our loyalty to great gospel truths must be no less valiant than that of those young men over 140 years ago.
It is my prayer, brethren, that each of us will make the Lord—and His revealed word through His servants, the prophets—the guiding influence in our lives. Each of us has a miracle to perform, a journey to complete, and a marvelous mission to fulfill.
May Heavenly Father bless you to know that you are one of His chosen sons in a blessed and royal generation, and that He has mighty miracles for you to perform. With His strength and the guidance of the Spirit, you too can do all things! To which I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One day I was fasting because I was troubled by many difficulties, and I opened the July 2007 issue of the Liahona. I decided to read From the Life of President Spencer W. Kimball, the episode called “Resist Evil Influences,” which I don’t usually read because it is in the children’s section. This story helped me flee from the bad influences that surrounded me that day, and I was fortified by the message. I encourage everyone to read all the sections of the Liahona.
The Liahona is a light and a protection for me. It is the first tool I use to proclaim the gospel to my friends.
Arlette Azi, Ivory Coast

Insight Number One
When he was thirty years old, Roland Crabtree was sprawled under an army truck in his little garage. A Cadillac pulled in, and the driver asked if the boss was around. “I hollered out that I’d be through in a minute,” said Brother Crabtree. The customer responded politely, “Take your time, I just want to talk to you about a job.”
The car had trouble with the left rear wheel. Several other garages had refused help. Brother Crabtree fixed the wheel. It took three and a half hours and nine dollars worth of parts. He charged him eighteen dollars. The man gave Brother Crabtree a thousand dollars and told him to keep the change. He refused; he said there wasn’t that much to it.

I wish to share with you a very special family experience. This is an interview I had with my grandson. Several years ago, when I was preparing myself spiritually in prayer to interview one of my daughters, I felt inspired to interview Kemish, my grandson who was a little over three years old and was living with us. Kemish was a bundle of energy and could not stay quiet for more than a minute, always running, jumping, and playing. So I let that feeling pass, thinking that I would wait until he was a little older and able to pay attention.

Several months later, while praying, the feeling came again; only this time it was stronger, and I heeded it. I went to Kemish and told him, “Tomorrow you and I will have an interview.” The next day, at the beginning of the interview, I told him that during an interview we had to look each other in the eye and remain seated all the time, among other things. It was a real miracle; Kemish sat and stayed quiet for almost ten minutes. But more marvelous than that, however, was that I got to know his thoughts and feelings. The thing that worried him the most was when he could get a two-wheel bicycle. When I explained to him that he would have to wait until he was a little older, he understood perfectly. He then told me the story he had learned about Nephi and his brothers. But the greatest thrill for me, as his grandfather, was when he told me that he knew who Jesus Christ was and bore his testimony of the Savior to me. Nowhere could you ever find more truth and purity than in the testimony of a three-year-old boy.

I thought about my wife at the time we were married. She was safe and comfortable in the harbor of her family. As a single woman, she lived with her parents and had a high position in her profession. She was making good money. She left the security of her harbor and married me. She came to live with me in very humble conditions. We had a small studio apartment. This will help you understand just how small it was: When the sun shone in our window in the morning, we had to leave the apartment to make room for the sunbeams to enter. There was not room for both the sunbeams and us in our small home. But we were happy and blessed; we found a new harbor for ourselves.

I recall the time when I was ordained a deacon. Our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized were proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out. As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told how we should assist Louis McDonald, a brother in our ward who was afflicted with a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.
How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Brother McDonald sat. I was fearful and hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a small piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Brother McDonald made better deacons of us all.

Enzio Busche’s original commitment to go to the ends of the earth in pursuit of truth met its test in 1977, while President Spencer W. Kimball was touring Poland and East Germany. Then a regional representative to the Quorum of the Twelve, Brother Busche served as translator for President Kimball at a meeting in Berlin, then met afterwards with Church leaders for refreshments in the Relief Society room. D. Arthur Haycock, the president’s personal secretary, asked Brother Busche to take an empty chair next to President Kimball. Because an educated German would never seek the company of a dignitary unless invited by that dignitary, Brother Busche ignored the suggestion. When Brother Busche declined a second time, Brother Haycock asked him more pointedly if he would please be so kind as to take the vacant seat. After exchanging greetings, President Kimball invited Brother Busche to join him in another room, where he extended the call to serve as a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy.

Third, ward families provide encouragement. Becky and Danny’s second child was born prematurely. Recounting the days, then weeks and years, of caring for a critically ill child, Becky says, “It was difficult for my mother to watch us dealing with this situation. She wished that she could take it away from me. We were living in a distant state, and Mother would call me on the phone and feel so helpless as she listened to our daily struggles. One day she said to me, ‘Becky, I don’t know how you will get through this, but I am confident that you can.’ That encouragement was a turning point for me.”

Eight-year-old Alicia-anne and her parents have had some very special spiritual experiences. In 1997, three sister missionaries knocked on their door. The missionaries taught them the discussions, and the family immediately knew that the gospel was true. On August 10, 1997, Alicia-anne saw her father, Gordon, and mother, Myrna, baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Alicia-anne, who often goes by the nickname Ali, looked forward to her own baptism in three years.
On November 20, 1999, another important event happened. The Attridges were the first family sealed together in the newly dedicated Halifax Nova Scotia Temple. “I felt very happy and warm inside after I was sealed to my parents,” Ali said. “Now I know I can be with my mom and dad forever.”
“Looking in the mirrors in the sealing room, we saw our family going on forever,” Mother added. “Since Ali is adopted, this was the most wonderful day in our lives because we will be a family forever.”
When Ali’s eighth birthday drew near, she asked her parents if she could be baptized on her birthday—she was too excited to wait a day longer! They were able to schedule it, so on July 11, 2000, she was baptized a member of the Church. She was delighted to have her Grandma and Grandpa Balsor in attendance. “My grandparents were so touched by the Spirit that they cried,” she said. After the baptism, her mother felt inspired to give them a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Ali is a CTR in the Greenwood Branch Primary of the Dartmouth Nova Scotia Stake. A good missionary, she often invites her friends to Primary and its activity days so that they can learn about the Church. She also tries to set a good example at school by being kind, generous, and honest.
Some of her best missionary tools are her cats, Lehi, Nephi, and Fluffy. When she tells someone their names, she is often asked to explain where the names Lehi and Nephi come from. A discussion about the Book of Mormon and the Church soon follows.
Whether at church or at home, Ali enjoys singing. Her lovely voice often accompanies whatever activity she is doing at home. She likes to sing songs from Primary, movies, and operas. Someday, she would like to be a professional singer or dancer.
She is very active and likes to get her work done quickly in school so that she has plenty of time at recess. Swinging very high on the swings and playing on the monkey bars are what she likes best. “I can hang upside down, skip one or two bars, or do an ‘apple-turnover’ flip on the monkey bars. Once my hands were too slick, though, and I fell flat on my face and scratched it!”
Ali also enjoys doing activities with her family. “I like to go swimming at anytime, in any weather, in shallow or deep water—but if I see a fish, I scream. I don’t like fish; they scare me!”
Beachcombing is another enjoyable family activity. The Attridges like to collect ropes, buoys, driftwood, shells, and rocks. At home, Ali and her mom wash the rocks and then paint them. Ali is proud of the Noah’s Ark rock she designed and painted. “The rainbow I painted on it represents God’s promise to Noah.”
At family home evening, she is happy to read or listen to scripture stories. She has read the Book of Mormon Reader twice and also likes to read from a book of children’s Bible stories. The great faith shown by the brother of Jared is her favorite scripture story. She also enjoys learning about the Jaredites traveling to the promised land.
For a family home evening activity, she is always eager to go to the Kingston Family Fitness Trail. Walking along the trail, the family enjoys the beautiful forested scenery. Ali likes them to stop and participate in each of the fitness activities along the way. She enjoys climbing the fishnet, jumping like a frog over the short poles, balancing on the beam, running through the tire maze, and finally stopping at the end to watch the ducks in the pond.
Prayer is an important part of Ali’s life. She remembers to say her personal prayers, and she suggested that the family pray together both morning and night. A prayer before each meal is important, too. She reminds them if they forget.
Ali loves her family very much. She is grateful that they are members of the Church and have been able to enjoy the many blessings of the gospel.