Gospel Story Finder

The first prophetic statement regarding the temple as given by Elder Cowley was recorded by a missionary to the Northern Far East Mission, Elder Harrison Ted Price in his journal in 1949. It was given on the site where the completed Tokyo Temple now stands, 5-8-10 Minami Azabu, Minato-Ku, Tokyo, Japan, the former location of the Northern Far East Mission and later the Tokyo Mission offices. Elder Price reported that a special dedicatory service was held in the library and foyer of the mission home, Sunday, July 17, 1949.
“In the dedicatory services for the mission home at 4:30 P.M., this afternoon, President Edward L. Clissold gave a fine talk summarizing the establishment of the mission here in Japan. This was followed by the dedicatory prayer given by Elder Cowley, which was one of the thrilling prayers that I have heard. In this prayer, he told of countless blessings from the Lord that have been enjoyed here to date, and went on to prophesy—‘there will someday be many church buildings—and even TEMPLES built in this land.’ I gave the closing prayer in this meeting.
“I was sitting on the front row in this gathering and clearly heard these words. The above quote is I believe the exact words that this great prophet said, for this prophetic prayer so impressed me at the time that I went to my room shortly after and wrote these words in my diary that I now have before me. This same day, I remember asking Elder Cowley specifically about his statements on buildings and temples in Japan, and he surprised several other elders and me by answering that he didn’t remember saying that, ‘But if I said that—that’s the way it will be.’ Other experiences with Elder Cowley have convinced me that when the Spirit of prophecy was upon him, he was sometimes as surprised as his listeners at the marvelous things that he said.” (Elder Harrison T. Price, Missionary Journal No. 3, p. 149, July 17, 1949, as recounted in a letter to President Paul Andrus, Northern Far East Mission, 1958.)

“We have a surprise visitor for breakfast today,” Father said one morning. “Can anyone guess who it is?”
Lindy wiped the milk from her face and put her glass down. Mother and Father were sitting in their usual places, and her brother, Mike, was across the table eating a piece of toast.
“I don’t see anyone here but us,” Lindy said. “Is someone at the door?”
“No, no one is at the door,” Father answered. “Guess again.”
“Did someone come last night after we went to sleep? Is someone waiting upstairs to surprise us?” Mike asked.
“No, no one came after you went to sleep last night, and there isn’t anyone upstairs to surprise you. This visitor is here with us right now.”
Mike leaned back and looked under the table. “There’s no one under the table,” he said with a smile on his face.
Lindy looked all around. “I still don’t see anyone anywhere,” she said.
“We can’t see this visitor,” Father said. “We have to listen for him.”
The house was quiet as they all sat still and listened.
Once again they were all quiet while Lindy listened and listened. She couldn’t hear a visitor.
She shut her eyes tightly and listened again. “I still don’t hear anyone,” she said.
“Let’s give Lindy a hint,” Mother suggested. “Our visitor sounds like teedily, teedily, teedily, tee to me.”
“He sounds like wheedly, wheedly, wheedly, whee to me,” Father said.
“I hear him!” Mike suddenly said. “I hear him now.”
Father smiled. “Now let’s see if Lindy can hear him.”
“He sounds like chirpity, chirpity, chirpity, chirp to me,” Mike laughed.
Lindy listened once more. Then she smiled. “Now I hear our visitor,” she said. “It’s a bird and it’s come with a beautiful song.”
“Yes, Lindy,” Father replied. “A special bird called a wren has come to visit us at breakfast today.”
“I hope it comes again tomorrow,” Lindy said. “I think it’s a happy teedily, wheedly, chirpity visitor!”

Some years ago our family encountered a major challenge. I went to the temple and there prayed earnestly for help. I was given a moment of truth. I received a clear impression of my weaknesses, and I was shocked. In that spiritually instructive moment, I saw a prideful woman doing things her own way, not necessarily the Lord’s way, and privately taking credit for any so-called accomplishment. I knew I was looking at myself. I cried out in my heart to Heavenly Father and said, “I don’t want to be that woman, but how do I change?”

Through the pure spirit of revelation in the temple, I was taught of my utter need for a Redeemer. I turned immediately to the Savior Jesus Christ in my thoughts and felt my anguish melt away and a great hope spring up in my heart. He was my only hope, and I longed to cling only to Him. It was clear to me that a self-absorbed natural woman “is an enemy to God”7 and to people in her sphere of influence. In the temple that day I learned it was only through the Atonement of Jesus Christ that my prideful nature could change and that I would be enabled to do good. I felt His love keenly, and I knew He would teach me by the Spirit and change me if I gave my heart to Him, holding back nothing.

I still fight my weaknesses, but I trust in the divine help of the Atonement. This pure instruction came because I entered the holy temple, seeking relief and answers. I entered the temple burdened, and I left knowing I had an all-powerful and all-loving Savior. I was lighter and joyful because I had received His light and accepted His plan for me.

Grady Grimshaw was always grumbling. He grumbled when Mom served her latest creation for dinner: barbecued tuna pizzawiches. He grumbled when Dad told him to make his bed. He grumbled when his little sister tied bows on his fierce stuffed gorilla. And he grumbled when he walked Pepper, the dog, and she had to stop and sniff at every bush and mailbox.
Grady was always grumbling.
One sunny day while Grady was dutifully walking Pepper, he passed the house of Mrs. Sherman, who was outside weeding her rose garden. “Hello there, Grady,” she called to him, pushing back her floppy sun hat. “Lovely day, isn’t it? Would you like to take a rose home to your mother?”
“Roses make me sneeze,” Grady said, walking on.
As he neared the Cooper home, he saw Mr. Cooper fixing his lawn mower. “Hi, Grady,” Mr. Cooper said. “Nice dog you have there.”
“She has fleas,” Grady said, not stopping for a second.
Then he came to the Parnell house. On the porch, asleep in a chair, was a tiny woman he had never met. Her white hair was pulled into a tight little knot at the top of her head, and she wore a big plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Every breath she took ended in a high-pitched whistle.
Grady wished he could whistle like that.
The woman suddenly opened one eye. “What are you staring at?” she demanded crossly.
Grady jumped. “I—I’ve never seen you before.”
“Well, I’ve never seen you before, but I’m not standing around gawking, am I?”
“No, ma’am.”
The woman closed her eyes again. Grady hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
The woman’s eyes flew open, “Goodness, child, are you still there? What is it you want?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what a nice day it is—or that you like my dog?”
The woman peered up at the sky. “Clouds. It’ll probably rain. And I don’t like dogs. They stink.”
“Pepper doesn’t stink,” Grady said defensively, “at least, not unless you get real close.” He plunked himself down on the porch step. This was not at all the way most adults he knew acted.
The woman sighed. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Grady Grimshaw.” He pointed. “I live down there, in that brown house.”
The woman raised herself up a little. “That corner house? How dreadful! I lived on a corner once. All the neighborhood kids trekked through the yard on their way to school and killed the grass and dropped things. Had to put up a big old ugly fence.”
“I like living on the corner. I get to live on two streets instead of just one.”
“Well, I’d rather live on my own one street, thank you very much,” the woman said. She reached for a glass of water on a nearby TV tray.
“What’s your name?” Grady asked as he handed her the glass.
“Dinah. Dinah Parnell. Only I’m never in the kitchen, and I don’t know any banjo players, so don’t sing that old song at me.”
“I won’t.” Grady felt Pepper tugging impatiently on her leash. “I guess I’d better go,” he said, standing up.
“Yes, I guess you’d better.” Mrs. Parnell closed her eyes. “But you can come back sometime, if you want.”
Grady was thoughtful as he and Pepper headed for home. Mrs. Parnell sure was different from most other ladies he knew.
Mom was putting the finishing touches on a sardine and broccoli casserole, and Grady got out the plates to set the table without even thinking about grumbling. “Mom, have you met that Mrs. Parnell lady?”
“Dinah Parnell?”
Grady nodded.
“Yes, I have. Did you meet her just now?”
He nodded again. “She doesn’t seem very happy.”
“Well, she’s not, really,” Mom said, putting the casserole into the microwave. “She’s Mr. Parnell’s mother, and she’ll be staying there awhile because she isn’t well. I think it’s hard for her to be away from her home. She’s lonely.”
“She sure grumbles a lot.”
“I think she could use a friend.”
Grady thought about that for a moment. His face brightened. “Would you help me make some brownies tomorrow after school so I could take some over to her?”
“Of course—that would be nice, Grady.” Mom smiled. “Here, would you stir this orange juice for me, please?”
Grady took the pitcher and was so busy thinking about Mrs. Parnell that he didn’t grumble this time, either.
The next day, Grady took a plateful of warm brownies to Mrs. Parnell. She only managed a “Humph!” when he came up the porch steps, but she listened when he told her about the bee that had gotten loose in class that day, and she only grumbled about the rain and the price of tomatoes in the grocery store.
A few days later, Grady went to see her again. He told her about his bicycle accident, and she showed him the scar on her hand from when she had fallen off her horse many years ago. He complained about the boy at school who fell on the cupcake Grady’d taken in his lunch, and she told him about the girl in the third grade who used to call her “Curlilocks” in front of everybody, so she’d put a rubber snake in the girl’s book bag and the girl yelled and then they both started laughing and became good friends. This time Mrs. Parnell only grumbled about how her eyes didn’t work very well anymore. Grady got her favorite book from inside and read to her.
Grady liked visiting Mrs. Parnell. He started looking for other grumblers who needed to be cheered up, too, and pretty soon, he decided that instead of a grumbler, he would be a grinner. He grinned when Mom served oatmeal turkeyburgers for dinner. He grinned when Dad told him to put away his toy cars. He grinned when Pepper shook water all over him after her bath. And he grinned when his little sister pushed the two-million-piece puzzle he had been working on for three weeks off the table.
(Well, that last one wasn’t quite a grin—but it wasn’t a very loud grumble!)

Luis also shares an experience that shows how service and missionary work are combined in the minds of Chilean youth: “I was working with my brother on the construction of our chapel when a young man came by and stopped and watched us. Finally he approached and asked us why we weren’t out somewhere having a good time. He pointed out that it was a beautiful summer day and we could have gone to the beach or just rested somewhere in the shade. We told him that our spirits were very joyous to have this opportunity to work for the Lord and that we would have been ashamed to think that our brothers and sisters were having to do our work for us. We explained that this was a chapel for the Lord, a house of worship, and that we were eager to see it completed. That young man is now an active member of the Church.”

Washington, D.C. is a city of monuments. Every building seems to have historical significance. Statues and memorials are so abundant that it becomes difficult to keep track of them all. And yet there are places in the city that, like the men or events or ideals that inspired their edification, can never be forgotten. Places like the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, the Capitol, the Supreme Court Building, the White House, the Smithsonian Castle, the museums and galleries, and more.
For Americans, a drive through Washington is at once a lesson in history and in patriotism. For thousands of tourists from other lands, Washington fosters a kinship that increases respect for a great nation and initiates memories that may last a lifetime.
But especially for those who live near the capital, a sightseeing visit to the downtown area is a feast. Often those who dwell in the suburbs forget the heritage that lingers nearby. Rushing on business, hustling off to school, or becoming involved in their smaller residential areas, many Washingtonians neglect the legacy in their own backyards.
But not the Fairbanks family.
The Fairbanks live in Bethesda, Maryland, just a stone’s throw from downtown Washington D.C. And the Fairbanks love to ride bicycles. As a family, they have benefited from the exercise and recreation cycling has given them. But they have also found their bikes to be a key means of access to the city. “There’s a bike path all the way into town,” explained 18-year-old David, the oldest son. “It follows the old Chesapeake and Ohio Canal route along the banks of the Potomac River, down into Georgetown, and eventually out onto the Mall.” (The Mall is the large, grass-covered rectangle running two miles from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capitol.)
From Bethesda, the route is mostly downhill, shady, and picturesque. “We’ll ride into town sometimes for exercise or fun, and then mom will come pick us in the station wagon,” Lisa, 16, added. “But if she can’t come, then we have to ride uphill all the way home.”
Sometimes the entire crew (half a dozen in all) makes a Saturday excursion to the landmarks in town. “I remember dad showing us the statue of Abraham Lincoln and telling us how he fought against slavery,” eight-year-old Galen said.
“Do you remember how many times you wanted to stop for ice cream on the way there?” Jeff, who is 14, kidded him. Washington in summer is a humid, sweltering steambath, and bicyclists soon learn to carry water with them or to stop at concession stands that line the Mall.
“A lot of times we’ll stop at a fountain or a pool to cool off, too,” Lisa said. There are fans of water outside the National Art Museum that mist the air with chilled vapor, and the Reflection Pool down the hill from the Washington Monument offers another site where the sun-soaked cyclists can escape the heat.
On special occasions some of the family members may take a few minutes out from a pedaling excursion to ride the elevator to the top of the Washington Monument. From the observation deck of the 555-foot pillar, it’s possible on a clear day to see all the way to Kensington, Maryland, where the Washington Temple raises its spires in solitude through the trees. “Lots of people know where the temple is,” Jeff said. “It’s really becoming a landmark, too. A lot of people have found out about the Church because of the missionary work members have done inviting people to the visitors’ center.
“The temple symbolizes a lot of things to me,” David said. “The way it rises out ot the woods reminds me of the goals the gospel puts into our lives, things like going on a mission. A goal like that towers over things that might seem important without the influence of the Church.”
The Church plays a major role in the family’s life. They are members of the Chevy Chase Ward, Washington D.C. Stake, where Jeff is teachers quorum secretary; Lisa (the only Laurel in the ward) was recently released from the Mia Maid presidency; David works regularly with the full-time missionaries; and Galen is a sterling Sunday School student. Both Brother and Sister Fairbanks are active in Church callings as well.
But Church involvement doesn’t stop when the Fairbanks step out the chapel door. They are a missionary family that doesn’t cease sharing the gospel. One of their primary means for so doing is the Fairbanks Family Band, a bluegrass ensemble that includes everyone from Galen on up.
“We’ve performed for other churches’ social gatherings, for community family weeks, even for a program honoring the family that was held in the President’s Park just behind the White House,” Brother Fairbanks explained. “We got a thank-you certificate from the President for that show.”
“We feel it’s our way of doing some missionary work,” Sister Fairbanks joined in. “We always make it a point to tell our audiences how important families are and we explain about the family home evening program of the Church.”
When the Fairbanks aren’t cycling or playing music, you can still usually find them together. When David graduated from high school, his friends came over for a celebration dinner. Brother Fairbanks served as waiter, and the rest of the family helped prepare the meal.
Our friends always want come visit us at home,” Lisa said. “It’s probably because we make them part of the family when they come.” It might also be because of the ice cream everyone’s helping to churn on the back porch, or the fresh rolls Lisa and her mother just pulled from the oven, or because of the friendly warmth that pervades the entire household. Even when they chop wood or do housework, the Fairbanks do it together.
In a city full of monuments, they are building a living monument that shines—a family full of love.

On one occasion he was home on a break from college. He was focused on upcoming finals and was not feeling right, though he didn’t feel physically ill.
“If you’re feeling well and don’t feel right,” his mother told him, “you need to go serve somebody.”
Brett threw a snow shovel in the back of the family pickup and went around shoveling the driveways of the widows in the ward. He felt much better.
“I was so focused on myself and the finals, I had forgotten that the real purpose of life is to serve others,” he says.

For Paul Allen and Jeanine Bryan, the Junior Life Guard program is even more than that. It’s a ticket to Australia, where they’ll participate in junior guard competition with the teams down under.
Paul and Jeanine are members of the elite “Captains,” the highest level in the junior guard program, which is divided into groups based on age and ability. The top members of the program were chosen, based on their athletic ability and citizenship, to make up the Junior Guard Educational Exchange—the 16-member group traveling to Australia.
To be Captains, Jeanine and Paul had to be at least 14 years old; be certified by the Red Cross in standard first aid, CPR, and personal safety; swim around the pier, battling waves and currents, in less than 15 minutes; be able to complete a two-mile beach run in under 15 minutes; and swim a mile in less than 30 minutes, to name a few of the requirements.
There are no exceptions made for Jeanine because she is a female. She must meet the same demands as Paul.
For Paul, the junior guard program could also provide a way to finance his mission. If he is good enough, he can work as a lifeguard during the summer after he turns 17. He’s planning to put the money he makes in a mission fund.
Of course, the youth in the junior guard program don’t spend all their time conditioning. Sometimes they listen to lectures on lifesaving techniques, and they receive complete training in cardiopulmonary resuscitation and first aid. Then there are the games, which include relays, tugs-of-war, water tag, Red Rover, and many more.
They also learn about the tides, waves, and basic beach training. “My kids are safer at the beach than I am,” says Caroline Allen, who has two sons and a daughter in the program. “They really know what to do. They can stand out on the shore, watch the waves, and say ‘Look Mom, there’s a riptide out there.’”
They learn from practical experience once they become Captains. They spend two hours, every other day, assisting the full-time lifeguards in the tower. “If a lifeguard goes out on a rescue, we’re supposed to go out there with him,” says Paul, who says he’s used prayer more than once to help him battle the waves.
Gospel teachings, in fact, have helped many of the LDS youth involved in junior guards. In order to be selected for the Australia trip, Paul and Jeanine had to go through a series of interviews, and their Church interview experience was a great asset, they said.
Paul, who earned his Eagle Scout Award two summers ago, says that the leadership training he received at Church has helped him too. He talks about the time when the Captains were in charge of doing the cooking for a hot-dog roast held for the junior guards and their families. The Captains were responsible for feeding about 7,000 people in all. “My Church experience really helped me to work with people and helped me know how to suggest to people what to do and when to do it,” he said.
Likewise, the junior guard program has been known to help the youth with their Church work. Just ask Bruce Johnston, of the Fountain Valley First Ward, Huntington Beach Stake. Bruce was involved in the junior guard program and later served in the Italy Catania Mission. He is now a junior guard instructor. “The program helped me with my mission preparation because it was very discipline oriented, just like the mission field. It stressed the importance of obeying rules.”
“It also gives you a sense of self-confidence, by helping you know that you can accomplish something that’s really hard for you,” said Jeanine.
One of the hardest things the Captains accomplished last summer was a 24-mile run, swim, run. They started by scrambling over the rocks and through the tide pools of Laguna Beach, dived into the ocean and swam across a cove, then ran to the Newport Jetty and crossed it together so they’d be highly visible to the boats that also cross. On the other side of the jetty, they ran to the Balboa Pier and swam around it. Then they hustled over the sand to the Newport pier, where they swam out to a buoy, rather than around the pier. There are so many fishermen casting lines off the Newport Pier that the swimmers would be sure to get tangled in them. From then on, it was a clean break across the beach to home territory. Once they hit Huntington Beach they swam around the pier, and the marathon was over.
Paul finished about a half hour ahead of everyone else, possibly thanks to his workouts with the Marina High swim team, where he was voted most valuable swimmer as a junior. Or maybe it was his experience on the cross-country team that helped.
But, he adds, following the Word of Wisdom doesn’t hurt either. “Since I don’t drink or smoke, I feel clean,” he says. “I don’t have bad lungs, so I can keep running and swimming and be in good shape.”
On almost every coast in the country, LDS youth are staying in good shape via similar lifeguard programs, and there’s even a program based at a lake in Idaho. On occasion, the groups come together for competition.
That’s another point the kids like about the program. “You get to meet all sorts of people and make new friends,” says Alison Brown, 14, of the Huntington Beach Sixth Ward, Huntington Beach North Stake.
Each swimmer probably has a different reason for joining, but they all come out with one thing in common, according to Coach Eich. “Respect is the key word,” he says. “We try to teach them respect for the ocean, respect for the environment, and respect for themselves.”
All that, plus sand, surf, and sun? Not only are these kids spending their long summer hours learning how to save lives, but they’re saving a summerful of memories as well.

Friends. Why can’t we all be friends? Today I was walking about Winter Quarters with Mariah Jewett and Leticia Harwood. Oh, how I have wanted to be Mariah’s friend! She is pretty and clever, and she plans dances for which her father plays the fiddle. I love to dance. She promised to invite me to the next one.
While walking, we saw a family arrive in an overflowing open wagon. I love to see more Saints joining us. Tucked in among the household goods was a girl who looked to be about our age. “How exciting! Let’s go welcome her,” I said.
“Wait,” Mariah said. “Don’t go near her. She’s probably got vermin. Look at her dress. Did you ever see anything so ugly?”
I was anxious about the vermin, so I stared impolitely. Her dress wasn’t ugly, only very plain. Just then the girl saw us watching, and she smiled shyly. Was she feeling as I had felt when we finally joined the other Saints? Was she heartsick at losing friends, and hoping to find new ones?
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Let’s go be friendly.”
“Hazel!” Mariah’s voice stopped me. “If you mingle with that riffraff, I shall be forced to exclude you from my list of associates.”
I am ashamed that I hesitated, thinking of having fun with Mariah at the dance. Then I remembered the great and spacious building in the Book of Mormon, and I knew where I wanted to be.
“So be it, Mariah,” I said, and I left her. Even in the midst of the Saints, life has trials.

After serving in the temple one evening, Elder Hammond stopped at a fast-food restaurant. He began visiting with a worker who was cleaning tables. The worker asked Elder Hammond why he was wearing a suit. “I told him about the temple,” Elder Hammond says. “We talked for more than 30 minutes. I don’t know if he’ll find out more about the Church, but he knows there is someone who doesn’t just see him as kitchen help.”

Sasha Strachova tells a story of her own about finding the light. When she was 13 years old, she began to feel a yearning to know God. She prayed for months. Then one day two LDS missionaries spoke in her school class. They quoted 2 Nephi 2:25 [2 Ne. 2:25]: “Men are, that they might have joy.”
“I felt they knew how we could be happy,” she remembers. Her mother granted Sasha permission to attend a Church meeting.
“I felt love there,” Sasha says. “I felt life in the people. I wanted to feel what they were feeling.”
To convince her mother to let the missionaries teach them a lesson, Sasha washed the floors every day for a month. And when the missionaries arrived, they were surprised to find the apartment crowded with teenagers. Sasha had invited her entire school class! Three months later, with parental approval, she and two of her friends were baptized.

The boy you are encouraging may seem too timid to be a powerful priesthood servant. Another one of my sons was so shy as a little boy that he wouldn’t walk into a store and talk to a clerk. He was too afraid. I worried as I prayed over his priesthood future. I thought of him in the mission field—that didn’t sound promising. I was led to a scripture in Proverbs: “The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion.”
I carved “Bold as a Lion” on his board, beneath an image of a large lion’s head roaring. On his mission and in the years that followed, he fulfilled the hope in my carving. My once-shy son preached the gospel with great conviction and faced dangers with bravery. He was magnified in his responsibilities to represent the Lord.
That can happen for the young man you are leading. You need to build his faith that the Lord can transform him into a servant braver than the timid boy you now see.

Many years ago, as a bishop in a large and diverse ward of over a thousand members located in downtown Salt Lake City, I faced numerous challenges.

One Sunday afternoon I received a phone call from the proprietor of a drugstore located within our ward boundaries. He indicated that earlier that morning, a young boy had come into his store and had purchased an ice-cream sundae from the soda fountain. He had paid for the purchase with money he took from an envelope, and then when he left, he had forgotten the envelope. When the proprietor had a chance to examine it, he found that it was a fast-offering envelope with the name and telephone number of our ward printed on it. As he described to me the boy who had been in his store, I immediately identified the individual—a young deacon from our ward who came from a less-active family.

My first reaction was one of shock and disappointment to think that any of our deacons would take fast-offering funds intended for those in need and would go to a store on a Sunday and buy a treat with the money. I determined to visit the boy that afternoon in order to teach him about the sacred funds of the Church and his duty as a deacon to gather and to protect those funds.

As I drove to the home, I offered a silent prayer for direction in what I should say to compose the situation. I arrived and knocked on the door. It was opened by the boy’s mother, and I was invited into the living room. Although the room was barely lighted, I could see how small and run-down it was. The few pieces of furniture were threadbare. The mother herself looked worn out.

My indignation at her son’s actions that morning disappeared from my thoughts as I realized that here was a family in real need. I felt impressed to ask the mother if there was any food in the house. Tearfully she admitted that there was none. She told me that her husband had been out of work for some time and that they were in desperate need not only of food but also of money with which to pay the rent so that they wouldn’t be evicted from the tiny house.

I never did bring up the matter of the fast-offering donations, for I realized that the boy had most likely been desperately hungry when he stopped at the drugstore. Rather, I immediately arranged for assistance for the family, that they might have food to eat and a roof over their heads. In addition, with the help of the priesthood leaders in the ward, we were able to arrange employment for the husband so that he could provide for his family in the future.

“Please hurry, Rabiha,” Hisham urged as he walked beside the cart on the busy Cairo street.
The mule pulling the loaded cart could make little progress on only three good legs.
“Get that worthless bag of bones off the street!” the impatient cart owner directly behind Hisham yelled.
“Rabiha is not worthless!” Hisham shot back.
A feeling of affection for Rabiha washed away Hisham’s anger as he guided the mule to the side of the road and stopped. He looked at Rabiha’s lame leg again and grimaced when he saw how swollen and sore it was. “My poor Rabiha,” Hisham mourned, patting the mule. “Your leg is not healing.”
Putting into words what he had feared these many days aroused a feeling of terror in Hisham. The heavy loads Rabiha pulled provided Hisham and his mother their only income. When his father was alive, Rabiha had pulled the cart for him. Hisham did not know how they could manage without the mule. Discouragement overwhelmed him, and he buried his face in Rabiha’s neck, ignoring the noise of the busy street.
“Hisham!”
Hisham started, blinking back the tears. His neighbor Mr. Megm was looking at Rabiha’s leg.
“You must take your mule to the Dispensary for Sick Animals,” Mr. Megm advised. “When my donkey’s leg became lame from a nail lodged in his hoof, the veterinarian there removed the nail and made him well again.”
Hisham brightened. “Do you think they can help Rabiha?”
“They can try,” Mr. Megm replied. “I will help you take him there after work.”
That evening Mr. Megm and some of Hisham’s other neighbors helped load Rabiha into a cart, and then Hisham took the crippled animal to the dispensary. For the first time in his life Rabiha rode in a cart instead of pulling it.
“It’s a deep, ugly tumor,” the white-coated veterinarian told the boy after examining Rabiha’s leg. “I can operate tomorrow.”
Hisham wet his dry lips. “Will Rabiha be all right?” he asked anxiously.
“I hope so,” the doctor replied. He gave Hisham a reassuring smile.
Through smarting tears, Hisham tried to return the smile.
Rabiha was put into an empty stall and fed.
“You may go home now,” the doctor told Hisham. “Your mule will be all right here tonight.”
“I cannot leave Rabiha!” Hisham cried.
“As you like,” the doctor replied. “But there is no food for visitors to the dispensary and no place to sleep.”
Hisham was too worried to eat. After sending word of his whereabouts to his mother, he spent the night in the stable beside Rabiha.
The next morning Hisham watched from the stable as the anxious owner of the donkey in the next stall led his animal to the canvas-covered operating table in the adjoining area. As the white-coated attendants forced open the donkey’s mouth, Hisham again buried his face in Rabiha’s neck. “I love you,” he whispered. “You must get well!”
Later Hisham heard an attendant chuckle as the other donkey was returned to the stall. “A greedy donkey if I ever saw one,” he said.
The owner was laughing too. “Greedy indeed!”
“What ailed your donkey?” Hisham asked.
“He had a whole corncob stuck in his throat,” the owner explained, grinning. “He is all right now.”
When Rabiha’s turn came to leave the stable, Hisham tried to be brave. But his legs felt like matchsticks as he followed the mule to the operating table. Then, hearing the neighing and barking from the paddocks and dog kennels close by, Hisham whispered to Rabiha, “The animals are sympathizing with you, old friend. You will soon be well.”
It wasn’t until the attendant administered the anesthetic from a large brown flask that Rabiha quit straining at the thick ropes steadying him.
Smelling the pungent fumes Rabiha was breathing, Hisham’s head, too, began to swim. He backed away and rested against a tree.
When he felt better, Hisham saw that the doctor had removed the tumor and was scraping and cauterizing the wound. Rabiha lay quietly on his side.
Hisham swallowed the lump in his throat. For the first time in weeks, he thought, Rabiha is feeling no pain in his leg.
“Your mule came through the operation beautifully,” the veterinarian told Hisham.
“Thank you, doctor!” the boy exclaimed. “Rabiha thanks you. My mother also thanks you.”
“Your mule, however, cannot go home today,” the veterinarian said.
Hisham blinked. “Why not?” he asked.
“He will have to stay several days until his leg heals.” He patted Rabiha’s bony back. “He needs time and rest to put a little meat on his tired bones.”
“Rabiha has never had a holiday,” said Hisham, wondering how he and his mother would live while the mule was recovering.
Seeing the boy’s worried face, the veterinarian said, “Perhaps I could lend you some money until your mule can work again.”
“I could not take money unless I earned it!” Hisham protested.
“If you are willing to work,” the veterinarian said, “there are jobs you can do here. Because you love animals, you would be a good worker for us. Come, I will show you the pets we board for people on holiday. They help pay our costs. You could help care for them.”
Hisham accepted the kind offer and then smiled as he thought, Rabiha’s holiday will be my holiday too.

Every Saturday, it’s my responsibility to service one of the vending routes my dad owns in the Phoenix, Arizona, area. I drive on the sparsely populated freeway, listen to ’70s music, and enjoy the rare time alone. I love the long distances between the various locations of family entertainment centers and pizza restaurants. My first time making the rounds, however, proved to be more than just a way to earn some extra money and enjoy my time alone.
I had serviced all the booths without incident and felt pretty confident about my skills as a driver and my knowledge of the extensive freeway system in the valley. However, as I drove toward home, I soon found myself in unfamiliar territory and had no idea where I was. Frustrated more than worried, I picked up my dad’s cellular phone, swallowed my pride, and dialed home. No answer.
Getting a little anxious and noticing that I had wandered into a rougher part of town, I locked my doors and dialed again. No answer. I had no idea how to get home, and looking at my directions gave little help. I knew I needed my Heavenly Father and paused to pray. I thanked Him for the opportunity to earn extra money and humbly asked for His assistance to end my predicament. I closed my prayer and paused for a moment to listen. About a minute later, the phone sounded its computerized ring.
“Hello,” I answered.
My dad’s voice crackled through, “Raquel, how are things going? I’m out with your mom, and I felt I needed to call.”
Gratefully, I explained my situation, and he told me where I was and what I needed to do to get home. We disconnected, and I said a simple prayer of thanks, with unbidden tears streaming down my cheeks.
Most likely, I would have found my way home eventually. I doubt even that my situation was very dangerous, but the experience gave me firsthand knowledge that my Heavenly Father listened to my prayers. Now, when serious decisions are thrown my way or when heartfelt questions must be asked, I know He’s near, giving me faith and confidence. Whether I’m lost in an unfamiliar section of town, or lost in an unfamiliar section of life, I know without a doubt He cares and listens.

With the onset of World War II, gasoline rationing prevented the Eyring family from making the 17-mile (27-km) drive to the New Brunswick Branch for Sunday meetings. As a result, the family received permission to hold meetings in their home, in Princeton, New Jersey. Hal would joke that he never missed a Primary meeting there—an achievement that wasn’t too difficult considering that Primary was held only once in their home.
President Eyring often reflects on the beautiful spirit in the sacrament meetings held in this small branch, made up of his family and occasional visitors. He didn’t mind that his family were usually the only ones who attended or that he and his brothers constituted the branch’s entire Aaronic Priesthood. But as the boys began entering their teenage years, their mother was eager for the family to live among a larger concentration of Latter-day Saints.
In 1946 Henry was enjoying his success and work at Princeton. He had won numerous honorary doctorates and most major awards in chemistry. Given his diligent scientific work with world-renowned scientists, he had an excellent opportunity to be considered for a Nobel Prize.
At about this time Henry received a call from A. Ray Olpin, president of the University of Utah, inviting him to be the dean of the graduate school there and continue his research in chemistry. His wife, Mildred, left the decision up to Henry, but she reminded him of a promise he had made to her years earlier. Henry had promised to move his family closer to Church headquarters when the boys got older. When Henry turned down the offer, Mildred, who had grown up in Utah, asked him to pray about his decision and gave him a letter to read when he arrived at his laboratory.
Upon reading the letter, in which Mildred expressed her disappointment, and after praying and pondering, Henry called President Olpin, saying he would accept the position after all to build up the university’s science department. His apparent sacrifice in leaving Princeton turned out to be a blessing for him and his family. One such blessing was Hal’s willingness to follow his father’s example when he faced a similar crossroads years later.

Stories abound of his kind acts and thoughtfulness. One snowy day when many airline flights had been canceled, thousands were stranded in a busy airport. A young mother and her two-year-old child waited in line after line trying to buy a ticket. The child was tired and hungry, and the mother was pregnant and could not carry her child. As the child sat whimpering on the floor, the mother moved her along with her foot. As people behind her in the line muttered and criticized, the young mother wanted to cry.
Then a man approached her with a kind smile on his face, “Young lady, it appears to me that you need a little help.” He took the child in his arms, comforted her, and gave her a stick of chewing gum. After he told the other people of the woman’s plight, they agreed to let her go to the front of the line. The man took her to her flight. As she boarded the plane, she thought, “What a wonderful man, and I don’t even know his name.” A few days later, she saw his picture in a newspaper and learned that he was Elder Spencer W. Kimball of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“Run, Jillian, run!” Dad shouted. Jillian’s dad was the coach of her football team. They were practicing extra hard to get ready for the championship game. The sun was hot, but Jillian kept running.

At last Dad blew the whistle. “OK, let’s have a break.”

Jillian grabbed her water bottle and sat on the bench with the boys. She was the only girl on the team, but she didn’t mind. They all worked together and helped each other get better. Even though she was tired and sweaty, she felt happy to play with her team.

“Dad, how did we do today?” she asked.

Dad smiled. “Great! I think the team is ready for the game.”

Jillian smiled back. All their hard work was worth it!

A few days later it was finally time for the big football game. Jillian asked the team to say a prayer before the game. Then it was time to play. Jillian ran as fast as she could. She worked with her team to get the ball and score goals. Her team won the game!

That night as she lay in bed, Jillian thought about Mei and her football team. She was happy to be part of a team, just like she was happy to be part of Primary. They all helped each other. Jillian was glad she could help her friends, whether it was at church or on the field.

One blustery day last March, a young man named Layne Anthony climbed out of his father’s car beneath the flags to answer that call and undertake that adventure. As he lugged the heavy suitcases through the doors, he may have been thinking of the moving promises and awesome authority that had been given him the night before when his stake president set him apart. He may have been remembering the inspiring missionary farewell in sacrament meeting or the day he was ordained an elder. Perhaps he thought of the moment his eyes scanned down his call letter and he learned he was being sent to the Peru Lima North Mission. Maybe he was even thinking about his last good-bye to his girl friend. There were plenty of memories to choose from, because his old life and the old Layne Anthony were being left behind when he walked through those doors.
As the new missionaries came streaming in, a battle-wise old veteran of two or three weeks stood observing them with a knowing eye. “Once you walk through those doors,” he said, “you never come out.” And then he smiled and lent a hand with the luggage to show that he was just kidding. But whether by design or by chance, he spoke the truth, because when these young men and women boarded busses for the Salt Lake City Airport several weeks later, they would not be the same men and women who strained at their luggage that brooding gray morning in March. The real journey, the one inside their hearts, the one that would take them where no jet airliner could fly, had begun.
After leaving their luggage in a large room, the new missionaries and their families gathered in one of the Missionary Training Center’s many chapels. Allen C. Ostergar, administrative director of the MTC, addressed the assembly, telling of the joy of missionary work, recalling his own mission, and explaining some of the rules. He urged the parents not to duplicate the adventure of one lonesome mother who came and hid in the bushes to get a glimpse of her son. Some of the mothers didn’t laugh.
Recalling his own mission call, Brother Ostergar said, “As I read the call I knew I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do. I knew the Church was true. The Spirit literally touched my heart, and it changed my life. And above all other things that the missionaries will feel here, they will feel the Spirit of the Lord, and they will strengthen their testimonies. Please rest assured that that happens. We love the missionaries as if they were our own sons and daughters.”
Before long the meeting was over, and Brother Ostergar invited the missionaries to come forward and exit through doors at the front of the chapel. “Anyone who comes up this way, we keep,” he added, “so the rest of you will have to leave the way you came in.” He invited the missionaries to give their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters a hug and a kiss and shake their girl friends’ hands. They obeyed enthusiastically, as good missionaries should. All the young ladies present were apparently sisters, because there were few handshakes. Elder Anthony gave a good hard missionary squeeze to each of his family and walked through the doors.
Emerging on the other side, the missionaries found themselves much the same as before, to all appearances, but there was a subtle difference. Now they were really on their missions. The last mooring line had been cast off, and they were embarked.

Several years ago I had the opportunity of playing quarterback in the National Football League. Over a seven-year period I played for the Pittsburgh Steelers, the St. Louis Cardinals, and the Atlanta Falcons.
The first of the two thrills took place one day when I was playing with the Steelers against the Philadelphia Eagles. On the first play of the game from scrimmage, I faked to the halfback and dropped back into the pocket. I threw a long pass down the sideline, and my receiver, who was racing down the sideline as fast as he could go, reached out with one hand, caught the ball, pulled it in, and went all the way for a touchdown.
That touchdown pass was a great thrill for me. It was really exciting with 80,000 people cheering. Not many people will have that particular thrill during their lifetime.
The second thrill happened after I retired from professional football. A young man became interested in the gospel through some discussions we had. I invited him to my home. He brought his girl friend with him, and the full-time missionaries taught them the gospel. They were converted. I had the opportunity of baptizing these two young people. A year later they came to Salt Lake City, and I had the privilege of going through the Salt Lake Temple with them when they were sealed for time and eternity.
The experience of seeing those beautiful young people accept the gospel and be united forever was a great thrill. It was a different kind of thrill than the touchdown pass. There were only a few people present in the “sacred silence,” but it was still very exciting.
When I compare the thrill of the touchdown pass with the thrill of those baptisms, there is absolutely no comparison. The baptisms were far more exciting! That may sound phony at first, because now we “see through a glass darkly” (1 Cor. 13:12), but I testify that the greatest thrills in this life come from serving the Lord.
It’s perfectly logical when we think about it. Who is going to remember that touchdown pass? Just two people—myself and the fellow who caught the ball. No one else will feel the impact or even remember the play. Just try to remember who played in the Super Bowl two years ago.
In contrast, contemplate all those who will remember the baptisms: this young couple’s children, grandchildren, and many generations to come, not to mention those this couple have brought into the Church.
At the day of judgment, the books will be opened, and those baptisms will be noted. We will be able to see that record, and angels will look upon it. Many will feel the impact of this thrill throughout eternity. “And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me” (D&C 18:16). And while few of us may experience the thrill of a touchdown pass, every young man and woman in the Church can know the greater thrill of sharing the gospel!
There are many exciting thrills in life, but we will enjoy the greatest of them through the gospel by learning and growing, by teaching, by sharing, by serving as a friend and a missionary. If we can learn to love the things that God loves, we will comprehend the true meaning of life, and we will seek after the joy of the gospel with all our heart, might, mind, and strength.