Gospel Story Finder

“Can I keep her, Mother? Please, can I keep her?” pleaded Karyn, cuddling the meowing bundle of matted white fur.
“She’s the sorriest-looking little kitten I’ve ever seen,” said Mother. “Are you sure she’s old enough to leave the mama cat?”
“Her mama’s gone,” Karyn answered. “That’s why Tammy wants to give her to me. And that’s why her fur is all stuck together—she kept falling in her pan of milk.”
“Maybe we could get a doll bottle for her to nurse,” suggested Mother. “What happened to the mama cat?”
“Nobody knows. Tammy’s mother found the three little kittens in their shed yesterday. They were almost dead from hunger.”
“You mean Tammy’s cat didn’t have the kittens?” asked Mother in surprise.
Karyn shook her head. “Tammy doesn’t have a cat.”
“Poor little baby,” crooned Mother, reaching for the crying and clawing kitten. “You really need a mama to lick you clean.”
“I bet Tie-Dye would be her mother,” Karyn said, her face brightening. “She’s going to have babies. Maybe she’d like one a little early.”
“If she had her kittens today, she could nurse this one, too,” mused Mother thoughtfully.
Soon Karyn had the big tortoiseshell mother cat resting comfortably in a towel-padded apple box in her room. Then she placed the little white kitten next to Tie-Dye and stepped back to watch. Tie-Dye opened her eyes wide, then gathered the kitten between her paws and began licking its matted fur.
“Look,” said Mother. “The baby is trying to nurse.” Mother rubbed her chin and said, “I wonder … Let’s leave them alone for a while to get acquainted.” And she and Karyn tiptoed out of the room.
Later when Karyn returned, she found Tie-Dye licking a new little black kitten while the white one slept peacefully in the corner.
“Mom,” Karyn squealed joyfully. “Tie-Dye had a baby.” Then she began to worry. “Maybe she won’t want the white one now.”
“I don’t think it will make any difference,” assured Mother, patting her shoulder. “She’s already adopted her.”
Several hours later, Karyn sat contentedly watching Tie-Dye nurse her four kittens. The white one looked like a giant next to the three newborn babies.
“She’s really a very pretty little kitten now that Tie-Dye has cleaned her up,” observed Mother, coming into the room.
“See how bright and fluffy her coat is.”
Tie-Dye began licking the white kitten again.
“She loves her just like the ones she had herself, doesn’t she, Mom?” said Karyn, leaning over the box adoringly. Then she jumped up and hugged her mother around the waist. “That’s the way it was when you adopted me, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“That’s exactly the way it was,” nodded Mother, hugging Karyn tightly. “Just exactly.”

Recently I listened as a couple complained that they had few interests in common. She liked to read; he didn’t. He played racquetball, but physical problems kept her from doing so. The list of differences went on and on. I asked if there wasn’t just one interest they shared. They shook their heads. Finally I suggested they take a ceramics class together. Neither had tried anything like that, so it gave them a new, common interest. The effect was unbelievable. As they worked toward a common goal, the excitement of growing together helped them gradually forget their differences.

As Marcia finished making the last invitation she said “There now, this party’s going to be lots of fun. It’s always good to be with special friends.”
The first two invitations were easy for Marcia to deliver. They went to Lora and Barbara who lived just down the street. Lora lived in a big white house.
“Hi, Marcia,” she said happily, opening the door. “I’m making cookies. Come in and help me.”
“Thank you, Lora,” replied Marcia, “but I can’t today. I came to bring you an invitation to a party.”
Lora’s eyes sparkled as she read the invitation. “Who are your special friends?” she asked.
“That’s a secret,” replied Marcia. “You’ll have to come to the party and find out.” She smiled and waved good-bye to Lora, then ran down the steps on her way to Barbara’s home.
“Hello, Marcia,” Barbara’s mother said as she opened the door. “Come in. Barbara’s out in back playing with the kittens.”
Marcia went through the kitchen to the back door “Hi, Barbara,” she called. “I have something for you!” A small gray kitten brushed against Marcia’s leg and she stooped down to cuddle it while Barbara opened her invitation.
“This sounds like fun,” Barbara said. “Who are your special friends, anyway?”
“Come to my party and you’ll find out,” Marcia said with a smile. This party is beginning to be fun already, she thought.
Marcia’s mother took her in the car to deliver the rest of the invitations. First they went to see Mary, who lived on the other side of Marcia’s school.
Marcia and Mary were not in the same class at school but they were good friends.
“Hi, Mary,” Marcia said when her friend opened the front door. “Will you come to a party at my house?”
“I’d love to,” Mary answered, her eyes shining in anticipation.
Mary’s mother came into the room and thanked Marcia and her mother for bringing the invitation. “Who are your special friends, Marcia?” she asked.
“That’s a secret,” Marcia answered with a smile. “Mary will find out at the party.”
Marcia’s cousin Susan lived on the other side of town. Susan was younger than Marcia but the girls always had fun when their families got together. Susan was delighted with her invitation. “Will all of your special friends be there?” she asked.
“Most of them,” answered Marcia.
The last invitation was for Connie. Connie didn’t go to the same school as Marcia, but they usually saw each other at Sunday School and sacrament meetings.
“A special friends party,” Connie repeated after she read her invitation. “This sounds like fun, Marcia. I can’t wait till Saturday.”
“You’ll have to, though,” laughed Marcia. “I’ll see you then.”
As Marcia and her mother drove back home, Marcia said excitedly, “I don’t know if I can wait until Saturday, either.”
Mary was the first one to ring the doorbell on Saturday afternoon for the party. Soon the other girls arrived and after she introduced them to each other, Marcia said, “I’m so glad you’re all here. At our last family home evening Dad explained that every friend is special in some way, so I decided to have a special friends party. I just wanted to say thanks to all of you for being my friends.”

My dear brethren and sisters, since our last general conference, my sweetheart—my beloved wife for 59 years—passed away. While I was at home on a rare Saturday with no assignment, we had worked together. She had washed our clothing. I had helped to carry it, fold it, and put it in place. Then while we were sitting on the sofa, holding hands, enjoying a program on television, my precious Dantzel slipped peacefully into eternity. Her passing came suddenly and unexpectedly. Just four days earlier, our doctor’s report at a routine checkup indicated that her laboratory tests were good. After my efforts to revive her proved fruitless, feelings of shock and sorrow overwhelmed me. My closest friend, angel mother of our 10 children, grandmother of our 56 grandchildren, had been taken from us.
Dantzel was not only a loved and loving companion. She was a teacher: by her noble example, she taught faith, virtue, obedience, and mercy. She taught me how to listen and to love. Because of her, I know all the blessings that can come to a husband, father, and grandfather.
With deep gratitude I acknowledge the tremendous outpouring of love from dear friends across the world. Countless letters, calls, cards, and other messages have been sent. All tributes expressed loving admiration for her and sympathy for us whom she left behind. Those messages came in such large numbers that we, regretfully, were unable to respond to all of them individually. May I thank each and all for your great kindness toward us. Thank you so very, very much. Your expressions have brought much comfort through this time of heartache for our family. We really love dear Dantzel! We miss her!

You will very likely hear these words in your lifetime: “Are you a Mormon?” Perhaps it will be when your friends see that your drink of choice is root beer. Or maybe it will be when you decide to turn down a date to the school dance because you’re not yet 16 years old. Whatever the situation, you most likely won’t be asked at gunpoint. And your answer won’t determine whether you live or die. But that was the way it was for 19-year-old Joseph F. Smith.
After serving a four-year mission in the Hawaiian Islands, from 1854 to 1857, young Joseph F. Smith began his long journey home to Utah. He boated across the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco, then slowly began his journey by foot with a small company of Latter-day Saints.
One day when the company had stopped to camp and rest, a group of troublemakers came storming through. Most of the men ran and hid, but Joseph decided he had nothing to be afraid of, so he continued the task of piling firewood in the camp. As he did so, one of the men approached him with a pistol, declaring that it was his duty to exterminate every Mormon he came in contact with. As he pointed his pistol at Joseph, he demanded, “Are you a Mormon?”
Without fear or hesitation, Joseph answered, “Yes siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”
The man was so startled by the courage of young Joseph F. Smith that he dropped his pistol and said, “Well, you are the [expletive deleted] pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” The man rode off, with the others following behind (Joseph Fielding Smith, Life of Joseph F. Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1938, 189).

Since April general conference, my family and I have been seeking to strengthen our faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement to help us “turn [our] challenges into unparalleled growth and opportunity.”
Our granddaughter Ruby has been blessed with a strong, take-charge will. When she was born, her esophagus was not attached to her stomach. Even as an infant, Ruby, with her parents’ help, met this trial with unusual determination. Ruby is now five years old. Though she is still very young, she is a powerful example of not letting her circumstances determine her happiness. She is always happy.
Last May, Ruby faced an additional hurricane in her life with faith. She was also born with less than a fully developed hand that needed reconstructive surgery. Prior to this rather complex operation, we visited with her and gave her a drawing that beautifully depicts a child’s hand warmly holding the hand of the Savior. When we asked her if she was nervous, she replied, “No, I am happy!”
Then we asked her, “Ruby, how is that so?”
Ruby confidently asserted, “Because I know that Jesus will hold my hand.”
Ruby’s recovery has been miraculous, and she continues to be happy. How the purity of a child’s faith contrasts with the foolishness of doubt that can frequently tempt us as we get older! But we can all become as little children and choose to put aside our unbelief. It is a simple choice.

Some months ago, as Elder Spencer J. Condie and I were in the Salt Lake airport, we unexpectedly met a devoted and faithful couple who have been friends for long years. This couple has spent a lifetime of service, meekly, faithfully, and effectively trying to build up the Church in many places in the world. Elder Condie noted, “Isn’t it remarkable what people with five loaves and two fishes do to build up the kingdom of God?” This kind of quiet, devoted service is surely a fulfillment of the word of God “that the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world, and before kings and rulers” (D&C 1:23). Today I would like to speak of those of us who have only talents equal to five loaves and two fishes to offer the Savior to help feed the multitudes.
“When Jesus then lifted up his eyes, and saw a great company come unto him, he saith unto Philip, Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?
“And this he said to prove him: for he himself knew what he would do” (John 6:5–6).
Philip answered quickly that there was not enough money to buy bread for the multitude. Then Andrew, Peter’s brother, said, “There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves, and two small fishes” (John 6:9).
“And when he had taken the five loaves and the two fishes, he looked up to heaven, and blessed, and brake the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before them; and the two fishes divided he among them all.
“And they did all eat, and were filled.
“And they took up twelve baskets full of the fragments, and of the fishes.
“And they that did eat of the loaves were about five thousand men” (Mark 6:41–44).
Subsequently their hearts were hardened in that they forgot the divine mission of Jesus, “for they considered not the miracle of the loaves” (Mark 6:52).
In our time, we seem to have forgotten the miracle of the five loaves and the two fishes in favor of the miracles wrought by the mind and hand of men. I refer to the marvels of modern transportation and the increasing sophistication of all scientific knowledge, including the new electronic highway. We have forgotten that this amazing knowledge comes to mankind only as God chooses to reveal it, and it should be used for purposes nobler and wiser than mere entertainment. This knowledge permits the words of the prophets of God to be bounced off satellites hovering over the earth so it is possible for much of mankind to hear their messages.
With this great knowledge has come also some skepticism about the simple and profound eternal truths taught in the miracle of the loaves and of the fishes—namely, that God rules in the heavens and the earth through his infinite intelligence and goodness.
We are also to understand and remember that we too, like the lad in the New Testament account, are the spirit children of our Heavenly Father and that Jesus is the Christ, our Savior, and the Redeemer of the world. We believe that in the centuries following the establishment of his kingdom upon the earth, the doctrines and the ordinances were changed, resulting in a falling away and the loss of the keys of priesthood authority from the earth. A miracle even greater than that of the loaves and the fishes was the vision of the Prophet Joseph Smith, who saw the Father and the Son in the Sacred Grove near Palmyra, New York. Subsequently the keys, the priesthood, and the saving ordinances were restored in their fulness, and Christ’s church was reestablished in our time. Thus God has again “fed” us and filled our “baskets” to overflowing.
It has been said that this church does not necessarily attract great people but more often makes ordinary people great. Many nameless people with gifts equal only to five loaves and two small fishes magnify their callings and serve without attention or recognition, feeding literally thousands. In large measure, they make possible the fulfillment of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream that the latter-day gospel of Christ would be like a stone cut out of the mountain without hands, rolling forth until it fills the whole earth (see Dan. 2:34–35; D&C 65:2). These are the hundreds of thousands of leaders and teachers in all of the auxiliaries and priesthood quorums, the home teachers, the Relief Society visiting teachers. These are the many humble bishops in the Church, some without formal training but greatly magnified, always learning, with a humble desire to serve the Lord and the people of their wards.
Any man or woman who enjoys the Master’s touch is like potter’s clay in his hands. More important than acquiring fame or fortune is being what God wants us to be. Before we came to this earth, we may have been fashioned to do some small good in this life that no one else can do. The Lord said to Jeremiah, “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations” (Jer. 1:5). If God has a work for those with many talents, I believe he also has an important work for those of us who have few.
What is the central characteristic of those having only five loaves and two fishes? What makes it possible, under the Master’s touch, for them to serve, lift, and bless so that they touch for good the lives of hundreds, even thousands? After a lifetime of dealing in the affairs of men and women, I believe it is the ability to overcome personal ego and pride—both are enemies to the full enjoyment of the Spirit of God and to walking humbly before him. The ego interferes with husbands and wives asking each other for forgiveness. It prevents the enjoyment of the full sweetness of a higher love. The ego often prevents parents and children from fully understanding each other. The ego enlarges our feelings of self-importance and worth. It blinds us to reality. Pride keeps us from confessing our sins and shortcomings to the Lord and working out our repentance.
What of those who have talents equal only to two loaves and one fish? They do much of the hard, menial, unchallenging, poorly compensated work of the world. Life may not have been quite fair to them. They struggle to have enough to hold body and soul together. But they are not forgotten. If their talents are used to build the kingdom of God and serve others, they will fully enjoy the promises of the Savior. The great promise of the Savior is that they “shall receive [their] reward, even peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come” (D&C 59:23). The one who had only two talents was able to say, “Lord, thou deliveredst unto me two talents: behold, I have gained two other talents beside them.” Thus said the Lord, “Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter … into the joy of thy lord” (Matt. 25:22–23).
It is a blessing for some to be given minds and talents equal to fifteen loaves and ten fishes. They have so very much that they can contribute, but some become less than they might. They do not reach their potential of service, perhaps because they take so much pride in what they think they know and what they have. They seem unwilling or unable to yield “to the enticings of the Holy Spirit … and [become] as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [them], even as a child doth submit to his father” (Mosiah 3:19).
During much of my life, a few journalists and dissidents have predicted the imminent downfall of this church. They have often pointed to the alleged disaffection of the youth of the Church. The lives and the dedication of our almost 50,000 young missionaries are testament enough of the faithfulness of many of our youth. In addition, during my lifetime, the Church has grown from 525,000 to about 8,500,000. I believe and testify that this is because of the restoration of the fulness of the keys and authority of the gospel of Christ to Joseph Smith.
Recently an out-of-state journalist used the phrase that there were appearing “cracks in the walls of the temple,” figuratively speaking, of course. By this I suppose he meant that the moorings of the Church were being shaken by a very few who do not fully sustain the leaders of the Church or keep their covenants. To dispel this perception of cracks in our members’ faith, we need only to observe the joyful people who worship in any of our forty-five temples worldwide. Many are couples clutching their little bags and holding hands, and many are the unmarried, seeking the peaceful blessings of the house of the Lord. Their countenances reflect much joy and satisfaction in their lives.
A major reason this church has grown from its humble beginnings to its current strength is the faithfulness and devotion of millions of humble and devoted people who have only five loaves and two small fishes to offer in the service of the Master. They have largely surrendered their own interests and in so doing have found “the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philip. 4:7). I wish only to be one of those who experience this supernal inner peace.
In the listening audience today are Jeff and Joyce Underwood of Pocatello, Idaho. They are parents of Jeralee and their other five children. Jeff works on a building maintenance team that cares for some of our chapels in Pocatello, Idaho. Joyce is a mother and homemaker. One day last July, their daughter Jeralee, age eleven, was going door to door collecting money for her newspaper route. Jeralee never returned home—not that day, nor the next day, nor the next, nor ever.
Two thousand people from the area had gone out day after day to search for her. Other churches sent support and food for the searchers. It was learned that Jeralee had been abducted and brutally murdered by an evil man. When her body was found, the whole city was horrified and shocked. All segments of the community reached out to Joyce and Jeff in love and sympathy. Some became angry and wanted to take vengeance.
After Jeralee’s body was found, Jeff and Joyce appeared with great composure before the television cameras and other media to publicly express their profound thanks to all who had helped in the search and who had extended sympathy and love. Joyce said, “I know our Heavenly Father has heard and answered our prayers, and he has brought our daughter back to us.” Jeff said, “We no longer have doubt about where she is.” Joyce continued, “I have learned a lot about love this week, and I also know there is a lot of hate. I have looked at the love and want to feel that love, and not the hate. We can forgive.”
Elder Joe J. Christensen and I, representing the General Authorities, were among the thousands privileged to attend Jeralee’s funeral service. The Holy Spirit blessed that gathering in a remarkable way and spoke peace to the souls of all who attended. Later, President Kert W. Howard, Jeralee’s stake president, wrote, “The Underwoods have received letters from people both in and out of the Church stating that they prayed for Jeralee, and they hadn’t prayed in years, and because of this, they had a renewed desire to return to the Church.” President Howard continued, “We will never know the extent of activation and rededication this single event has caused. Who knows the far-reaching effects Jeralee’s life will have for generations untold?” Many have come into the Church because they wanted to know what kind of a religion could give the Underwoods their spiritual strength.
I mention the good coming from this tragic event with Jeralee’s parents’ full approval and encouragement. Their sweet daughter was like the lad who had only five barley loaves and two small fishes to give to the cause of the Savior, but by the power of God, countless thousands have been spiritually fed.
I testify that the gospel we teach is the “power of God unto salvation” for all who listen and obey (Rom. 1:16), regardless of their talents and abilities, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I was raised in an active Latter-day Saint family. I went to church every Sunday, read my scriptures every night, prayed every day, and went to seminary and Young Women activities. I even wrote in my journal every day. I thought I knew what the Church was all about, and I believed it was true.
Then one Sunday during an interview, one of the counselors in my bishopric asked me, “Do you have a testimony of this Church?”
“Of course I do,” I replied. Didn’t he know that my parents served actively in their callings, that my brother had just come home from his mission, and that my sister was engaged to be married in the temple? With a family like that, how could I not believe?
He responded, “That is good to know, because I didn’t have a testimony until after I graduated from high school. I always thought I had one, but then I realized that I was leaning on my parents’ testimonies. You need to promise that you will continue to strengthen and nourish your testimony.” I promised him that I would strive harder to make my testimony grow.
On the way home from church, I began to ask myself if I really had a testimony or if I was leaning on my parents’ testimonies.
I recalled a time a few months earlier when I had felt the Spirit so strong. That day I was sure the Church is true. Why had I begun to doubt again? I remembered my seminary teacher telling us that if we ever doubted, to just ask God with real intent, faith in Christ, and a pure heart and we would receive an answer (see Moroni 10:3–5).
That night I went home and prayed and read my scriptures over and over again. “Why am I not getting an answer?” I wondered. My seminary teacher promised I would get an answer. I could feel something, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more proof to know that the Church is true. It couldn’t just be a feeling; I wanted to know for sure.
My answer didn’t come for a while, but it finally came. One night I was reading in the Doctrine and Covenants, and that is when it all came together for me:
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things.
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23).
So many times I had felt the Spirit. So many times I had believed. So many times I had had an overwhelming love for the Church and the Savior. That was the answer. I already knew, so why keep asking? Why did I not nourish the testimony I had?
I realized I couldn’t just expect the answer to come to me. I couldn’t just read my scriptures; I needed to search them. I couldn’t just pray to Heavenly Father; I needed to listen to His answers.
A few weeks later I found counsel by President Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) that described what I needed to do. He said:
“Your testimony is something that you have today but you may not have it always.
“Testimony is as elusive as a moonbeam; it’s as fragile as an orchid; you have to recapture it every morning of your life. You have to hold on by study, by faith, and by prayer. …
“That which you possess today in testimony will not be yours tomorrow unless you do something about it. …
“… Testimony is either going to grow and grow to the brightness of certainty, or it is going to diminish to nothingness, depending upon what we do about it” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Harold B. Lee [2000], 43).
I know that if I keep listening to Heavenly Father’s answers and searching the scriptures every day, my testimony will be as bright as the sun.

Jennifer Zahne and her sons
“Let us run with patience the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1).
Derrick and Jenn Zahne of Shiprock also faced a decision about seeking worldly success or strengthening the Navajo. For four years they had lived in Phoenix, Arizona. When Derrick, an accountant, had been unemployed for nine months, their prayers became more and more fervent: “What wouldst Thou have us do?” Even when Derrick found another job, something still didn’t feel quite right.
“We came home to Shiprock, which is Jennifer’s home, to visit for the weekend,” Derrick recalls. “In the parking lot after church, I looked over and she was crying. I knew instantly that she had received a prompting to move home. At first, I was upset. But then I thought about our prayers, and I knew we should move.”
They arrived in Shiprock wondering what they should do. The Zahnes decided to become involved in their community as well as in the Church. “We spend a lot of time with dog rescues on the Navajo Nation,” Derrick says. “And we help with community sports—baseball, basketball, and, most of all, cross-country because Jennifer and I are ultra-runners. We run races longer than 30 miles (48 km). We teach kids, ‘Hey, running can be fun. You just have to work at it.’ We try to build people and set an example.”
Their involvement naturally creates missionary opportunities. “When our boys miss practice on Sunday,” Derrick says, “their buddies ask, ‘How come you weren’t there?’ ‘Because it’s the Sabbath, and we go to church,’ they say. Same thing for Jennifer and me. A lot of our races are on Sundays, and our running friends ask, ‘Why weren’t you there?’ We’re having the same discussions as our boys.”
Derrick now works as chief financial officer for a construction company owned by the Navajo Nation. He is also bishop of the Shiprock Ward. “We’re building the ward too,” he says. “We’re trying to teach by example that ‘love your neighbor’ means all your neighbors. It means to do what we promised to do when we were baptized. It means to serve as Christ would serve.”

I just recently moved here from the Philippines, and it has been very hard to be away from my family, friends, and loved ones. Many times I feel so alone. While I was waiting for my New Era subscription to be processed, I would borrrow the New Era from the ward library. The first magazine to arrive was the April 1994 issue. It gave me so much inspiration, especially when I opened the Mormonad poster and saw the words that went straight into my heart: “You Are Never Alone.” Every single article in that issue just made me realize how much I feel my Savior’s love and the appreciation I have for the Atonement in my life. Thanks for that wonderful issue.
Evelyn T. BautistaSt. Louis, Missouri

When my car broke down beyond repair, I knew it was time to buy a new one. After months of searching for a used car I could afford, I finally settled on a conservative four-door sedan.
When I got the car, a thought occurred to me: “This is a nice car. Maybe I should only play nice music in it.” So at that point I made a new rule for myself: no hard rock music in the car.
This was difficult for me at first because I had become used to hard rock music. But I started listening to big band music, LDS and other Christian music, and talks by Church leaders and speakers. Before I knew it, I had gone without listening to hard rock music in my car for a year and a half.
With these new kinds of music in my car, I can see some great changes in my life. My challenges with morality and sin have become much easier to conquer. I realized how much rock music had influenced my past decisions. I used to jump in my old car, turn on my music as loud as I could, and then drive to places that I knew I shouldn’t go.
But now, as I listen to good and sacred music in my car, I find that music protects me from temptations. I find myself more able to listen to the promptings of the Spirit.
It’s now an automatic choice for me to listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir or to learn about Joseph Smith as I drive, rather than choosing to listen to my old music. I find myself wondering why I listened to that kind of music in the first place.
I now understand why modern-day prophets encourage us to listen to good music. The difference in my life before and after my decision proves to me that hard rock music has a negative effect on those who listen to it. Believe me, I know from experience.

Years later, a group in Cedar City were talking about her and others who were in those ill-fated companies. Members of the group spoke critically of the Church and its leaders because the company of converts had been permitted to start so late in the season. I now quote from a manuscript which I have:
“One old man in the corner sat silent and listened as long as he could stand it. Then he arose and said things that no person who heard will ever forget. His face was white with emotion, yet he spoke calmly, deliberately, but with great earnestness and sincerity.
“He said in substance, ‘I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts mean nothing here, for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. A mistake to send the handcart company out so late in the season? Yes. But I was in that company and my wife was in it, and Sister Nellie Unthank whom you have cited was there too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church because every one of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with him in our extremities’” (manuscript in my possession).
That speaker was Francis Webster, who was twenty-six years of age when with his wife and infant child he went through that experience. He became a leader in the Church and a leader in the communities of southern Utah.

Grandma and Grandpa had always loved Hawaii so deeply that they vowed to share their experiences with their family. It was in this final year of her life that Grandpa insisted that we take this trip as an entire family (over 30 people) to Hawaii. One of their sons with his family was serving a mission at the time. The rest of us said we could wait until they returned home from their mission in the coming year, but Grandpa was determined that we had to go immediately. Only he knew the seriousness of Grandma’s illness, so he insisted that we take the trip quickly, though we did not know why. Grandma died several months after we returned from that family trip to Hawaii.

Let me tell you of a young man I knew when I was a mission president. He was a missionary full of faith. He was Uruguayan. He had been in the mission about three or four months when I arrived, and I noticed that wherever he served, people were being baptized. In the beginning I thought it was because of his senior companion, because he seemed too young, too new, to be the cause—that was my mistake. He knew how to make things happen.

He was called as a senior companion and a district leader. I sent him into a city that had gained a reputation of being a tough, “no results” city. Missionaries had not baptized anyone there for nearly a year—not one person! The members were discouraged. Only ten to twelve members were attending the branch. I didn’t tell him anything—I just notified him of the transfer. Three weeks later, he and his companion began baptizing. He served there about ten weeks. All of his district started baptizing.

It is great to have a missionary who can baptize, but if he can teach others how to do it, his leadership can bless the lives of many.

This missionary never wrote me much in his weekly reports. He would only write, “Dear President, I sure love you. Things are going great. Sincerely,” or “President, the Lord is blessing us greatly. I love the work. Your brother.”

He was called later to serve as a zone leader and sent to supervise the whole upper area of the mission where there were some very challenging cities. His new challenge was to teach the missionaries to do what he was doing. He served there two or three months and was responsible for scores of baptisms, and he literally changed the spirit of the whole zone, member leaders as well as missionaries. Together they wrought a spiritual miracle.

Then came a spiritual struggle for me, a restless feeling about him. I felt impressed that he should be sent to Paraguay. At that time the work was very slow in Paraguay. We averaged only 20 to 25 baptisms a month in the whole country. I wrestled with that and thought to myself, “He has really proved himself here, but to put him in that situation might drag him down in discouragement as it has so many others. He may have a hard time sustaining his faith there.” I had to struggle with my faith to convince myself that he really ought to go, but I obeyed the promptings.

I sent him a telegram transferring him to Asunción, Paraguay, as a zone leader and told him that he should leave the very next day. When he came into Montevideo, he didn’t even come to see me. He was modest and always a little embarrassed to see “the president.”

He departed from the mission home, but he left a letter, which was the first one that I had ever received from him. It said, in effect, “Dear President Cook, I received a telegram today telling me to go to Paraguay, and I thought you ought to know a few things: (1) You can’t baptize in Paraguay. I have had at least ten to fifteen elders tell me of their experiences there. (2) The members are not helping at all. (3) There are some real morality problems among the nonmembers there. (4) Many people live together unmarried. (5), (6), (7), (8) …” And he went through and listed ten to twelve of some of the most negative things that I have ever heard in my life.

I thought to myself, Oh, no, unbelieving people have gotten to him.

But as he finished the list, he said, “I just wanted you to know, President, that I don’t believe any of those things.” Talk about faith! Then he committed himself, after expressing his faith, saying, “I want you to know, President Cook, that on Christmas Day (and the date of the letter was December 1), we are going to baptize 25 people.”

When I read that, I prayed for him and thought, The Lord bless you, elder. You have a tremendous amount of faith, and the Lord will sustain you. You don’t know the country; you haven’t ever been there. You don’t know where you are going to live. You don’t know your companion, the leaders, the members. You don’t know anything, and yet you, in faith, believe that you are going to baptize 25 people in 25 days.

Well, this young man was full of faith and was a real example of a great Latin leader. On December 25, he and his companion baptized 18 people. They hadn’t reached the 25, but 18 was just about all that the whole country baptized in a normal month. It was a great privilege two weeks later to participate in a baptismal service where he and his companion baptized 11 more. His district baptized about 30 that day. Can you see how one righteous man can turn around a whole set of circumstances? He believed, he committed, and he and the Lord did it.

When my younger siblings are annoying me, I’ve learned to ask them kindly to stop and then I walk away for a few minutes. Then I come back with one of their favorite toys and play with them. Sometimes the most tempting way to handle things is by threat and force. Whenever I want to do this, I silently sing the lyrics to “If the Savior Stood Beside Me” (New Era, Aug. 2007, 8–10). That helps me keep calm and remember to love them. Another good song to sing is “Love One Another” (Hymns, no. 308).
Bria W., 12, Texas, USA

I remember how I felt forty-one years ago when I was taken from a train in Europe at 2:00 a.m. by two soldiers of a hostile nation and held against my will. I was verbally and physically abused. I felt I would never see my family or my country again. I assure you that while I was held captive, the blood coursed through my veins like adrenaline. Though the captivity lasted less than a day, it seemed like an eternity. And when I was put on another train and sent back to safety, my gratitude to the Lord knew no bounds. I was free! As I talked to the train conductor, I learned that hundreds had not been so lucky.

Urging us to press on to higher and better things, our own President Spencer W. Kimball, in the concluding speech of the last conference, said, “We have paused on some plateaus long enough. Let us resume our journey, onward and upward. . . . We have been diverted at times from fundamentals on which we must now focus in order to move forward as a person or as a people.” (Spencer W. Kimball, “Let Us Move Forward and Upward,” Ensign, May 1979, p. 82.) And one of the fundamentals that President Kimball is presently emphasizing is the full utilization of our time.
I recall an incident concerning our prophet that highlights this fundamental. Early in the morning several years ago, during an area conference in Amsterdam, I was waiting for an elevator. When it arrived and its door opened, to my surprise there stood President Kimball. In his usual warm and friendly way he said, “Step in and join me.” We rode only to the next floor together, but in that short time of about thirty seconds he gave me enough challenges and assignments pertaining to our missionary labors in Europe to fully occupy my time for years to come. Since then, I have often wondered what the assignments and challenges might have been had we ridden another floor together.

This past summer my wife and I had two of our young grandsons staying with us while their parents participated in a pioneer trek activity in their stake. Our daughter wanted to be sure that the boys practiced the piano while away from home. She knew that a few days with the grandparents makes it a little easier to forget about practicing. One afternoon I decided to sit with my 13-year-old grandson, Andrew, and listen to him play.
This boy is full of energy and loves the outdoors. He could easily spend all of his time hunting and fishing. While he was practicing the piano, I could tell that he would rather be fishing on a nearby river. I listened as he pounded out each chord of a familiar song. Every note he played had the same emphasis and meter, making it difficult to clearly identify the melody. I sat beside him on the bench and explained the importance of applying just a little more pressure on the melody keys and a little less on those notes that accompany the melody. We talked about the piano being more than just a mechanical miracle. It can be an extension of his own voice and feelings and become a wonderful instrument of communication. Just as a person talks and moves smoothly from one word to another, so should the melody flow as we move from one note to another.
We laughed together as he tried again and again. His dimpled-cheek smile increased as the familiar melody began to emerge from what was previously a wild set of sounds. The message became clear: “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here.”1 I asked Andrew if he could feel the difference in the message. He responded, “Yes, Grandpa, I can feel it!”

One of our finest missionaries was leaving Pennsylvania. Two young women had waited for him. (Most of us found ourselves without anyone waiting for us.) In his last interview he wanted to talk with me about situations that might occur when he returned home. One young woman, who happened to be an airline stewardess, seemed to be his favorite. Yet she had not been careful about the way she lived in relation to sexual purity. The other young woman had announced before his mission that she would not participate in anything that was not appropriate.

“What should I do, President?”

I said, “You’ll know what to do, Elder. But just remember the two years you have served so well in Pennsylvania. Remember those things we have learned together, and remember what you really believe in.”

Well, he returned home and went to the apartment of his airline stewardess. He found as they went on a date that evening that things had not changed—he was sick inside. He later took out the other young woman, then called to report the activities of those two evenings. The young woman who had decided to live the commandments long before she ever met him had so deeply impressed the young man that from that time on he dated just her. Now they are living happily. Yes, now they are living the way that most of us would like to live.

Creak, creak. Bang, bang, bang!
John looked up from his plate as he heard footsteps and then a loud pounding at the door. It was early evening on a steamy summer Sunday, and five-year-old John was finishing supper with his parents, two brothers, and three sisters. He wondered who could be visiting his family.
Father got up and opened the door. “Let us in, Zachariah!”
John groaned inside as he turned to see his father’s cousins. Dan and Marv were loud and swore a lot, and they didn’t like Mormons. Ever since John’s family had been baptized six years ago, their relatives had harassed them about being Mormons. Lately it had been getting worse.
Dan pushed past Father and stepped into the room. “We’re here to say that you have to stop associating with those missionaries and leave that church of yours,” he said. “Your relatives are tired of being called ‘Mormon-lovers.’”
“I’ve told you we’re not leaving our church,” Father firmly replied. “We joined because we know it is the true Church of Jesus Christ.”
Cousin Marv’s face darkened in anger when he heard Father’s answer. Marv leaned toward Father and spoke in a threatening tone. “If you won’t leave that church of yours, you’d better leave Tennessee. If you don’t, we’ll take care of you just like they took care of Gibbs and Berry.”
John shuddered. He was named after the missionary who baptized his parents, Elder John Gibbs. Five years ago, Elder Gibbs and Elder Berry had been martyred by a mob.
Father straightened his back and stood tall. “I will not leave my church or stop supporting the missionaries,” he replied in a steady voice. “I would rather die a martyr than renounce my faith in Jesus Christ and His Church.”
John’s eyes widened, for Father’s face seemed to shine as he spoke. John felt a warm and peaceful feeling replace his fear.
“Leave our home now,” Father told his cousins. “I will take my family to Zion. You won’t be bothered with our presence here much longer.” His cousins glared at him, then tromped out the door and slammed it behind them.
Mother stood up and walked over to Father. She put her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. “We’ll have to leave sooner than we thought,” she said.
John’s family was trying to save money to move to Zion, but they barely had enough to survive. He wondered how they would get enough for the eight of them to make the journey from Tennessee to Utah.
As if reading John’s mind, Father spoke to the family. “We don’t have enough money saved to travel all the way to Zion, but we will start our journey next week. We’ll have to work along the way to earn money for the rest of the trip.” He paused, then quietly added, “The missionaries taught us that no sacrifice is too great for the Lord. Now it’s time for us to follow their example.”
As John finished his supper, he thought of the journey ahead. How long would it take? What would Zion be like? John didn’t know what lay ahead, but he would stand tall in faith, just like his father.