Gospel Story Finder

We need to make our homes a place of refuge from the storm, which is increasing in intensity all about us. Even if the smallest openings are left unattended, negative influences can penetrate the very walls of our homes. Let me cite an example.
Several years ago, I was having dinner with my daughter and her family. The scene is all too common in most homes with small children. My daughter was trying to encourage her young, three-year-old son to eat a balanced meal. He had eaten all the food on his plate that he liked. A small serving of green beans remained, which he was not fond of. In desperation, the mother picked up a fork and tried to encourage him to eat his beans. He tolerated it just about as long as he could. Then he exclaimed, “Look, Mom, don’t foul up a good friendship!”
Those were the exact words he heard on a television commercial a few days earlier. Oh, what impact advertising, television programs, the Internet, and the other media are having on our family units!

Because joining the Church in Spain requires much sacrifice in breaking from established tradition, as it does in some other parts of the world, members in Spain are all the more dedicated. After Manuel and María Trancosco were visited by two missionaries in 1976, Manuel prayed about their message and studied the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price. When a spiritual confirmation came to him while at his job as a mechanic, he ran home to ask the elders to baptize him immediately.

Since the family’s conversion, Manuel has devoted himself to serving in many different callings, despite a work schedule that starts at six in the morning and ends at ten at night. The family also had enough faith to drive their tiny car to the Swiss Temple, some 1,200 kilometers to the north. Their testimonies were strengthened as they traveled, for each time they stopped to ask directions, they found someone who spoke Spanish. Manuel and María were sealed to their four children and have now added four more to their eternal family.

Approximately 20 young people are enrolled in seminary, and the program is highly successful—they all have nearly perfect attendance. It’s not always easy to get up each morning, but they know the others will miss them if they don’t go.
Seminary builds not only their spiritual strength, but also their academic abilities. “Seminary stimulated me to want to achieve high grades and gave me the motivation to get it done,” says Elizabeth Parai, who shared top academic honors in the school with Jamie Rajek in 1994.

I know that from my own experience. I remember when I was a boy of 15 and we had been expelled from Mexico in the revolution. My folks went to Los Angeles from El Paso, Texas. I got a job there among a bunch of Mormon-haters, and I didn’t tell them that I was a Mormon. Sometime after that, President Joseph F. Smith came to Los Angeles and had dinner with my parents—a very humble dinner; I can remember that it was very scant. He put his hand on my head and said, “My boy, don’t ever be ashamed that you are a Mormon.”
You know, I have worried all my days that I didn’t have the courage to stand up to those ribald men.

Imagine you’re invited on a pleasure cruise with friends. At 3:00 A.M. the first night out, you are awakened by a loud explosion. A shout of “Fire!” startles you. You race for the deck. Amid the excitement, someone shouts the warning command: “Prepare yourself with life preservers!” Through the eerie dawn and jagged fingers of flame, you see a variety of lifesaving equipment on deck. There are cushions, belts, rings, and several kinds of vests and jackets. Would you grab the nearest piece of lifesaving equipment? Do you think one is as good as another?
I’m a landlubber, and to me one life preserver would have seemed as good as another. But not anymore! What changed my mind?
I attended a safety exhibit. The exhibit stressed accident prevention and covered safety in many situations.
The display that intrigued me most was water safety. A beautiful large blue and white boat caught my eye. Over the bow lay a variety of familiar pieces of lifesaving equipment. On each piece was a simple card. The card read YES on the pieces of equipment that were safety approved; NO on those that were not. I was dumbfounded. I thought all life preservers were approved and would save life in an emergency. I expressed my surprise to the gentleman who was in charge of the display.
“Most people think they’re perfectly safe,” he said, “but that’s the tragedy of it. Now take this skier’s vest. It will protect the skier from getting his ribs broken if he should hit the water hard when making a high jump. The belt will aid him some, but he needs this life jacket to be protected from drowning. Ski belts are not approved because of insufficient buoyancy and failure to ensure face-up flotation.”
He picked up an orange, U-shaped life jacket. It had a YES sign. “Inside this life jacket are strong waterproof plastic bags. They’re filled with kapok and surrounded with this heavy water-repellent canvas. You could float for days wearing this,” he said. “It’s designed to save life.” He put it on demonstrating it for me. “It fits securely around the neck. This holds the head up out of the water,” he said.
“Now, let’s compare this approved vest with this piece of equipment over here.” He rested his hand on the familiar khaki canvas vest with a NO sign on it. “This is nothing but a death trap,” he said. “It’s about as helpful as a bucket of cement. It can become saturated with water in 15 or 20 minutes. When it’s saturated it weighs 29 pounds. The weight of the human body is 10 to 11 pounds when in water. You put this 29 pounds around your neck and it just drags you down.”
“That’s terrible!” I protested. “Why are they allowed to manufacture such death traps? They’re worse than nothing at all!”
“You’re right.” he said emphatically. “They are just a money-making deal. There is no guarantee they will save.”
As I drove home, I thought how foolish I had been to assume all lifesaving equipment would do the job. I began to wonder if I was making other incorrect assumptions that were potentially as dangerous. Then a very striking comparison entered my mind. There are many different philosophies of life, but not all are designed to save. Some, like the khaki vest, can even be death traps.
A popular philosophy of our day teaches us to “look out for number one.” Have you ever heard the line “If it feels good, do it”? Some contend that it doesn’t really matter if you lie, cheat, or steal—as long as you don’t get caught. And everywhere we are bombarded with the message that a person’s success in life is equivalent to the amount of money he makes. While these philosophies, and many like them, are often packaged attractively and made to look very appealing, they are wholly inadequate to save.
The saving principles of the gospel as taught by Jesus Christ and his prophets look very different. Compare, “Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matt. 7:12); “love thy neighbour as thyself” (Mark 12:31); “Wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10); and “No other success can compensate for failure in the home” (David O. McKay).
All roads do not lead to Rome, and all philosophies do not lead to eternal life. The Savior taught that man-made creeds have no power to save. “In vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men” (Matt. 15:9).
He also said, “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 7:21).
There is but one plan of salvation and one road that leads to eternal life. Don’t take things for granted, especially not your eternal salvation! Get informed. Apply the teachings of Jesus Christ and his prophets. Whether for water safety or eternal safety, rely only on that which is designed to save.

It wasn’t enough for institute students in Manila, Philippines, to just learn the gospel—they wanted to share it. So they put together a musical show, emphasizing the scriptures and education, that was designed to help parents and youth apply gospel principles in their lives.
The students gave up their free time to rehearse and perform. But they said it was worth it to see the audience reaction—some were moved to tears. The group toured Metro Manila and the nearby provinces with their variety show. “All our efforts were rewarded by the wonderful feelings we’ve had,” said one participant.

I remember a grandmother who had been widowed early in her life and was moving out of her home. Her granddaughter, about to be married herself, was carefully helping her pack the boxes of dishes and the faded towels. “See that sewing machine over there in the corner?” the grandmother asked. “Your grandfather always left his hat there when he came home in the evening. I used to scold him all the time about it. ‘Just put your hat on the hook,’ I’d say. ‘Why does your hat always have to be on the sewing machine messing everything up?’ Then one day he got pneumonia and died, leaving four little children and me to miss him for a lifetime. How many times through the years I’ve thought, What I’d give to see that hat on the sewing machine, placed there by his own hand!”

In the apartment I rented, I found a small Mormon book entitled, Articles of Faith, by James E. Talmage. I never knew if Sister Stone secretly placed it there, or if it had been left by the former tenant. At any rate, I began reading it after the children were in bed at night; not because I was interested, but because there was nothing else to do.
During those first few weeks, not a Saturday went by that Sister Stone didn’t stop and ask if we would like to go to church with her on Sunday. When I would politely refuse, she never pushed the issue; but still she regularly asked. At the same time, I became more and more engrossed in the book. I had never heard of such things as I found in that book, though I had studied the Bible faithfully most of my life. Much of what I read I either wondered about or outright disagreed with, so I started jotting down notes of such items as I came across it.
One Saturday when Sister Stone came by, I still refused to go to church with her, but I did tell her that I had some questions about it, and that if she would send her pastor to talk to me I’d discuss them with him. In just a few days I was visited by a man named Marvin Turner and his wife, who said they were stake missionaries and had come to answer my questions. Almost defiantly I brought out my written questions, seven pages in all, and told them that if they could answer them I would listen to whatever they wanted to teach me. Brother Turner’s response was that he did not have all the answers, but he knew that through the Church he could find me logical, reasonable answers. Through the patience and tenderness of the Turners, I finally reached the time when I was willing to pray about the truthfulness of those things that they taught me. I consented to go to church with them. Some time later, I was baptized. However, when I moved to southern California, I lost track of my new friends. I remarried and had other children.
That was many years ago. Now I sit in sacrament meeting and watch while one of my sons passes the sacrament and another one blesses it; I watch the faith and testimonies of each of the children grow; and my thoughts turn toward people who have joined the church as a result of different ones spreading the gospel; and I think too of our kindred dead who have had their baptisms and endowments and sealings done through our genealogy work.
Ultimately my thoughts turn toward a gracious Sister Stone and a sharing, loving Turner family somewhere among the vast number of Saints who, I have no doubt, are still serving the Lord through loving and caring. I ask myself how I can ever repay those people who cared so much for someone so rebellious long ago. And the answer comes to me loud and clear: “Go, and do thou likewise.” (Luke 10:37.)

“Last year my father was injured in an accident. With help from others, we have been able to overcome the financially difficult time that followed. At first I felt resentment toward God. But now I am thankful to him. I am not different from other youth, but I have something different from the others. I know God lives. I wish we experienced only happiness. But because of my testimony, I will accept either happiness or misfortune in life.”
—Kim, Hae-Young, Seoul, Korea

More than forty years ago I was a missionary in the British Isles. That was the time of the British Empire when it could truthfully be said that the sun never set on British soil, and when the British flag waved over a fourth of the world. In those days the peace of the world was peace in the British Empire. Now the British Empire is gone; its parts are independent nations, and the British Empire, symbolized by the lion that roared so loudly, is old and sick and weak.
It is easy for me to believe that the nations shall tremble when the Son of God comes again to claim his kingdom, for when that day arrives, “The Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall He sit upon the throne of glory:
“And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats. (Matt. 25: 31–32.) There will be a judgment not only of the nations but also of the people. “Behold,” said the Lord, “now it is called today until the coming of the Son of man, and verily it is a day of sacrifice, and a day for the tithing of my people; for he that is tithed shall not be burned at his coming.
“For after today cometh the burning … all the proud and they that do wickedly shall be as stubble; and I will burn them up, for I am the Lord of Hosts; and I will not spare any that remain in Babylon.” (D&C 64:23–24). Some years ago one of our brethren spoke of the payment of tithing as “fire insurance”; that statement evoked laughter. Nonetheless, the word of the Lord is clear that those who do not keep the commandments and obey the laws of God shall be burned at the time of his coming. For that shall be a day of judgment and a day of sifting, a day of separating the good from the evil. In my personal opinion no event has occurred in all the history of the earth as dreadful as will be the day of the Second Coming—no event as filled with the destructive forces of nature, as consequential for the nations of the earth, as terrible for the wicked, or as wonderful for the righteous.
It will be a time of great and terrible fears, of cataclysmic upheavals of nature, of weeping and wailing (D&C 19:5), of repentance that comes too late, and of crying out unto the Lord for mercy. But for those who in that judgment are found acceptable, it will be a day for thanksgiving, for the Lord shall come with his angels, and the apostles who were with him in Jerusalem, and those who have been resurrected. Further, the graves of the righteous will be opened and they shall come forth. (See D&C 88:97.) Then will begin the great millennium (D&C 43:30) period of a thousand years when Satan shall be bound and the Lord shall reign over his people. Can you imagine the wonder and the beauty of that era when the adversary shall not have influence? Think of his influence upon you now and reflect on the peace of that time when you will be free from such influence. There will be quiet and goodness where now there is contention and evil.
I know that you are familiar with all of this and with much more of that which is found in the scriptures, but I have felt impressed to repeat it as a reminder to each of us of the faith and the certainty that we have of these coming events. To know when these events will occur would take from us much of the self-discipline needed to daily obey the principles of the gospel.
Most of us seldom think of these millennial events, and perhaps it is well we do not. Certainly there is no point in speculating concerning the day and the hour in which they will occur. Let us instead live each day so that if the Lord does come while we are yet upon the earth we shall be worthy of that change which will occur as in the twinkling of an eye and under which we shall be changed from mortal to immortal beings. And if we should die before he comes, then—if our lives have conformed to his teachings—we shall arise in that resurrection morning and be partakers of the marvelous experiences designed for those who shall live and work with the Savior in that promised Millennium. We need not fear the day of his coming; the purpose of the Church is to provide the incentive and the opportunity for us to conduct our lives in such a way that those who are members of the kingdom of God will become members of the kingdom of heaven when he establishes that kingdom on the earth. May I suggest just two or three things which, if followed, will assist.
The prophet Micah declared: “He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8). There is enough for a long sermon in that one command. Let me talk about one point only: “To love mercy.” As an example, may I read a paragraph from a letter I received from a young woman who is engaged in this kind of activity as president of the Relief Society.
Yesterday [she writes] I spent most of the day picking up welfare groceries and delivering them. One of the two cases I called on was tragic. She is a woman who, years ago, was in a fire and her head was badly injured. For years she has undergone constructive surgery and has a number of pins holding her scalp together. She is divorced, and in order to support herself and her four-year-old girl, she works doing any small job she can find, until she is through surgery and can return to school to complete her training as a dietician. She has no car and relies solely on her bicycle for transportation in this great and busy city. She has ridden that bike all winter, with her little girl on the back, sometimes going as many as 48 kilometers in a day to get to and from a small job.
A week ago she slid on a patch of ice while riding her bicycle, fell, struck her head, and suffered a concussion. She refused to go to the hospital because she had no money to pay medical bills, so she remained in her apartment, suffering from pain until her sister found her and got medical help. Her mother was able to assist her just a little. Her home teacher happened to call and discovered her plight. When I, as the Relief Society president, called her, I discovered she had no food in the house, no medication for her diabetes, and no money. So yesterday I went to deliver the groceries and take her some medication. What an opportunity to serve someone so desperately in need!
Love mercy; obey the commandment of the Lord by imparting your substance for the work of this kingdom. Now let me share with you a testimony spoken by a man once poor in his childhood and now prosperous in his old age. He stood before the congregation and said,
“When I was a boy, on a summer’s day I would lie out in the alfalfa patch and chew on twigs and look up at the sky and wonder where the windows of heaven were that my parents had spoken of. I couldn’t see them in the clouds, and I thought they must be somewhere in the blue sky. I wondered how the windows could be opened so I could get a Boy Scout uniform and a pony and a bicycle. I never got these things, but I have come to see how the windows of heaven are opened as I have received the kindness of good and generous neighbors and friends in this ward in which we live.”
Finally, pertaining to this general subject, let me read a few more words of revelation: a few words of commandment, and a few more words of promise. The commandment: “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly.” The promise: “Then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God.” (D&C 121:45.) I have thought of that statement a great deal. It has been my privilege to meet a number of presidents of the United States and leaders, rulers, and governors in other lands, and it is a reassuring feeling to be able to stand in the presence of such men with confidence. As I have thought of that, I have also thought how marvelous it will be if someday I might stand with confidence in the presence of God.
“The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion,” the Lord continues in this statement, “and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever”—including, I should like to add, that time when the Lord comes at the great day of sifting and separation of the righteous from the wicked. My brothers and sisters, of these things I testify, relying on the revealed word of the Lord; and I humbly pray with sincere desire that each of us may so live our lives here and now that we may have neither fear nor worry concerning that great and dreadful day of his coming. God bless us in our search for truth and peace and strength, I humbly pray in the name of Him who shall surely come at a time we know not, but whose coming shall be as certain as the coming of the sun in the morning—in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Hadley Peay is now seven years old. Hadley was born with a very serious hearing impairment requiring extensive surgery to bring even limited hearing. Her parents followed with tireless training to help her learn to speak. Hadley and her family have cheerfully adapted to the challenge of her deafness.
Once, when Hadley was four, she was standing in the checkout line at the grocery store with her mother. She looked behind her and saw a little boy sitting in a wheelchair. She noticed that the boy did not have legs.
Although Hadley had learned to speak, she had difficulty controlling the volume of her voice. In her louder voice, she asked her mother why the little boy did not have legs.
Her mother quietly and simply explained to Hadley that “Heavenly Father makes all of His children different.” “OK,” Hadley replied.
Then, unexpectedly, Hadley turned to the little boy and said, “Did you know that when Heavenly Father made me, my ears did not work? That makes me special. He made you with no legs, and that makes you special. When Jesus comes, I will be able to hear and you will get your legs. Jesus will make everything all right.”
Hadley knew enough.

Helping girls become proficient in the kitchen was the goal for the American Fork East Stake. To stress creativity and use a central theme, the stake leaders chose to have all recipes include carrots. Lisa Faucett explained the reaction of most of the girls to the idea. “At first, everyone was really surprised. Most said they didn’t like carrots. But after we learned to make casseroles with carrots, carrot cake, drinks made with carrot juice, carrot cookies, carrot salad, carrot muffins, and carrot pudding, we all found something we really liked.” She shook her head in amazement. “I didn’t know you could do so many things with a carrot.”
The American Fork girls used their newfound abilities in the kitchen to help others. In several Share-and-Care evenings they prepared some of their carrot masterpieces and delivered them to a homebound person in boxes or cans decorated with the carrot theme. For Chris Stephens, sharing was the best part of the learning-to-cook experience. “It was fun to take what we made to different people. We visited an older lame couple. They really appreciated our efforts.” The gift of charity had been added to the basket.

After ten wonderful days in Honolulu, we set sail on the last leg of our long voyage. It was spent preparing for war. A former soldier trained the men for battle.
While we sailed, fifty to sixty men drilled for combat. They marched around the deck and practiced loading and aiming their guns. My friends and I had make-believe battles with my lead soldiers. The women kept busy stitching bolts of blue denim into uniforms for the troops.
On Friday, July 31, 1846, one month after leaving the Sandwich Islands—and nearly six months after leaving New York—we finally approached the California coast. Men, women, and children crowded the deck, eager to see where we would land at last. I tried to get a glimpse of land myself, but dense fog hung like a heavy, dark curtain in front of all of us.
The rocky shores of the Golden Gate strait were almost invisible when Captain Richardson carefully guided the Brooklyn through the narrow passage that opens into San Francisco Bay.
As eager as we were to land, we were even more anxious as to what awaited us. Would we find enemy ships in the harbor? Or Mexican soldiers on the shore? Did hidden spies watch as the Brooklyn moved slowly ahead?
Now and then the fog lifted over the bay and we could see the shore. There were no trees at all; the ground was the color of dry grass. Pelicans glided just above the surface of the water. They looked too heavy to fly any higher. Other birds, some dark, some white, soared and swooped over the waves. Occasionally we spotted bumps that looked like islands.
A shadowy shape gradually appeared in the distance. Was it a ship? Friend or foe? A wisp of something fluttered. Was it just a ribbon of fog streaking in the breeze, or was it a Mexican flag? I held my breath as we drew closer and saw a ship anchored in the harbor. The banner flapping in the wind was covered with stars and stripes! The American flag! Yerba Buena had already been captured for the United States. I couldn’t wait to go ashore, to have room to run and romp, to have a private place to think—and to eat a family meal cooked by Mama.
I studied the landing place. After the breathtaking beauty of the Juan Fernández and the Sandwich islands, Yerba Buena was downright ugly! There was nothing green at all. Skeletons of slaughtered cattle covered the sandy beach.
Droghers (clumsy barges) waited in the bay to carry their cargo of tallow and hides to the east coast. A few tired donkeys, loaded with bundles of wood, trudged along with their heads down. Some lazy loungers sprawled on the shore.
I also saw a few scrubby, gray oaks. Beyond them, a series of sand hills rose one behind the other. Several old shanties all leaned in the same direction.
While I stood on the deck, cannons from the battery boomed a salute, and the greeting was returned by the Brooklyn. A rowboat with uniformed officers from the Portsmouth, a United States military ship, approached us, and the men came aboard. One of them announced, “Ladies and gentleman, I have the honor to inform you that you are in the United States of America.”
The passengers aboard the Brooklyn gave three hearty cheers. Our long voyage was over at last.

The youth of the Dublin (California) Ward and the Pleasanton Second Ward had to move quickly. With just three days’ notice from Children’s Hospital in Oakland, California, they pulled together a group to put on a party for all the cardiology patients and their families.
The youth manned refreshment tables, a popcorn machine, face-painting booths, and the check-in table. They also gave instruction in ’50s style dancing.
“It was so fun to watch the kids learn that dance,” says Jessica Cooper. “Every single one of them was smiling. It really made me feel good.”
“I’m not sure who had more fun,” says Beth Patterson, “us or the kids!”

While working on the pioneer film 17 Miracles, my team and I created several scenes to convey this threat of wolves. We brought in a wolf trainer, and one day he left his wolves in a trailer while we looked for some good places to shoot scenes in the heavily wooded outdoor studio. Even though they are “trained” wolves, they are still wolves and can be very aggressive. They have natural instincts to attack and kill.

We returned a couple of hours later and were amazed to see a deer standing less than 15 feet from the trailer. Her ears were out, her eyes alert, and she was staring at the trailer. She seemed mesmerized.

Normally when you see a deer in that wooded area, the deer sees you, bounds off, and disappears within seconds. This time, not so. The deer was so focused on that wolf-harboring trailer that she didn’t even notice us until we were about 15 feet away. She finally noticed our presence and then seemed to come out of her trance and ran off. I asked the trainer if he’d ever seen anything like that before. He hadn’t, and he couldn’t explain it.

The next morning when the trainer approached his trailer to begin the day’s work, to his astonishment he saw close to 15 deer standing in a circle, all the way around the trailer. Like the first deer, they too were transfixed and stared intently at the trailer. Their circle grew smaller and smaller as they each continued to move closer to the trailer. The trainer could hear the wolves inside, pawing and clawing away as they seemed to be saying in wolf language, “Let me at ’em!”

Again the trainer moved very close to the deer before they became aware of him and ran into the nearby woods.

Elder Harold B. Lee and Elder Marion G. Romney were always teaching, and they would, in a sense, go out of their way to tell me something or teach me something. I think the reason they did it—I’m not sure they ever saw me in this position or calling—is that I had one virtue: I wanted to learn, and I didn’t resent it. And if you don’t resent it, and if you want to learn, the Lord will keep teaching you, sometimes things you really didn’t think you wanted to know.
Both of those great teachers would teach me. When I would see Brother Romney, sometimes he would say, “Kid, I want to tell you something.” I knew it was coming. He was going to tell me I was doing something that I shouldn’t do, and I would always thank him.
I learned early on that there is great value in listening to experience in older people. I had a stake president once who said, “I always tried to be in the presence of great people.” He was in a little town in Idaho, but he said, “If there was a lecturer coming or something special, I would always try to be there, because I could learn.”
I have always been drawn to associate with older people (now I am one). I remember in the Quorum of the Twelve, LeGrand Richards didn’t walk as fast as the other Brethren, and I would always wait and open the door for him and walk back to the building with him. One day one of the Brethren said, “Oh, you’re so kind to take care of Brother Richards.” And I thought, “You don’t know my selfish motive”—as we would walk back, I would just listen to him. I knew that he could remember Wilford Woodruff, and he would speak. One-on-one teaching is very powerful. Generally one-on-one teaching is what happens when you are corrected.

Sydney knows it’s important to have friends during times of trial, and she always strives to be that friend for people in times of need. When she heard of another young girl in the community who was just diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, Sydney immediately reached out and met with her. The girl’s mother later told Sydney about the great influence she had on her daughter. The daughter had felt alone in her trial because no one else she knew had diabetes. But immediately after Sydney’s visit, she had a friend, and that made all the difference.

Pierre’s idea for a choir of homeless men never got off the ground in Paris because he didn’t stay in Paris. His older brother and sister had moved to Montréal, and he visited them frequently. In April 1995 he moved to Québec to get married. His engagement didn’t work out, but Pierre fell in love with Canada and decided to stay. He set up a successful dental lab and, of course, began volunteering.
“On my second day here,” he says, “I inquired at the tourist office where I could volunteer.” By coincidence, the tourism officer was a volunteer at l’Accueil Bonneau, a homeless shelter, and told him how to find it. “I arrived in time for lunch, and they gave me an apron,” he recalls. “I started to serve lunch to the homeless. For more than a year I did this.”
But the same frustrations he had felt in Paris resurfaced, and so did his idea. He typed a flyer and handed out 600 copies to the men in the food line. It offered employment to “singers, even beginners, for part-time work. Men only. Any age. Any nationality. Must love to sing. Musical knowledge not necessary.” Thirty men expressed interest, but at the first rehearsal only 3 showed up. However, 7 came the next day. The day after, 12 showed up. Pierre taught them four Christmas carols from the LDS hymnbook.
The metro was an inspired and logical location for their performances. “If the mountain won’t come to you, you must go to the mountain,” says Pierre. “Thousands and thousands of people come to the metro.”
Residents of Montréal are accustomed to seeing homeless people on the street, but they were not prepared for what they encountered in the metro station at 7:30 A.M. on 17 December 1996. It was an unforgettable experience for the performers and the commuters. “I couldn’t see the faces of the spectators,” Pierre explains, “because I was conducting, but I could see the faces of my friends in the choir. Their faces changed. People crowded around us. Several missed their trains to listen longer. One woman began to cry, and her sobs filled that improbable event with incredible emotion. It was like a tide coming in. People were crying, singing with us, putting money in the hat to the cadence of the melody, clink, clink. They started to make a line to put money in the hat. It was a wonderful experience.”
That first concert brought in more money than they had expected. The next morning the choir earned even more. “But the greatest pay the men received,” says Pierre, “was when people came directly up to them, spoke to them, and shook their hands. This meant much to men who had spent their lives digging in garbage cans, begging, or even stealing simply to survive.”
The choir sang every day that Christmas season except Sundays. The money they earned allowed all of them to spend the holiday in more comfortable circumstances. A few were able to visit relatives. Some hadn’t seen their families in years.
“After the last performance,” Pierre recalls, “I asked my friends, ‘Do you want to keep going with this choir, or do you want to stop now and start it up again next Christmas?’ ‘Keep going,’ they insisted.”
After the choir’s first subway concert, the media quickly learned about them. Two days later they were invited to introduce the weather forecast for a large television station, and the next morning articles appeared in most of the Québec newspapers. This unexpected free publicity allowed the choir to sign contracts for concerts at festivals, schools, churches, banks, and other television stations.
“The media,” says Pierre, “has helped give us a voice for our message that life is beautiful, that it is really worth living, and that we should never give up. Everyone deserves a second chance, and no one should be excluded, even if he or she is different.”

Years ago on a cold night in a train station in Japan, I heard a tap on the window of my sleeper car. There stood a freezing boy wearing a ragged shirt with a dirty rag tied about a swollen jaw. His head was covered with scabies. He held a rusty tin can and a spoon, the symbol of an orphan beggar. As I struggled to open the door to give him money, the train pulled out.
I will never forget that starving little boy left standing in the cold, holding up an empty tin can. Nor can I forget how helpless I felt as the train slowly pulled away and left him standing on the platform.
Some years later in Cusco, a city high in the Andes of Peru, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I held a sacrament meeting in a long, narrow room that opened onto the street. It was night, and while Elder Tuttle spoke, a little boy, perhaps six years old, appeared in the doorway. He wore only a ragged shirt that went about to his knees.
On our left was a small table with a plate of bread for the sacrament. This starving street orphan saw the bread and inched slowly along the wall toward it. He was almost to the table when a woman on the aisle saw him. With a stern toss of her head, she banished him out into the night. I groaned within myself.
Later the little boy returned. He slid along the wall, glancing from the bread to me. When he was near the point where the woman would see him again, I held out my arms, and he came running to me. I held him on my lap.
Then, as something symbolic, I set him on Elder Tuttle’s chair. After the closing prayer, the hungry little boy darted out into the night.
When I returned home, I told President Spencer W. Kimball about my experience. He was deeply moved and told me, “You were holding a nation on your lap.” He said to me more than once, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.”
As I have visited Latin American countries nearly 100 times, I have looked for that little boy in the faces of the people. Now I do know what President Kimball meant.
I met another shivering boy on the streets of Salt Lake City. It was late on another cold winter night. We were leaving a Christmas dinner at a hotel. Down the street came six or eight noisy boys. All of them should have been at home out of the cold.
One boy had no coat. He bounced about very rapidly to stave off the chill. He disappeared down a side street, no doubt to a small, shabby apartment and a bed that did not have enough covers to keep him warm.
At night, when I pull the covers over me, I offer a prayer for those who have no warm bed to go to.
I was stationed in Osaka, Japan, when World War II closed. The city was rubble, and the streets were littered with blocks, debris, and bomb craters. Although most of the trees had been blasted away, some few of them still stood with shattered limbs and trunks and had the courage to send forth a few twigs with leaves.
A tiny girl dressed in a ragged, colored kimono was busily gathering yellow sycamore leaves into a bouquet. The little child seemed unaware of the devastation that surrounded her as she scrambled over the rubble to add new leaves to her collection. She had found the one beauty left in her world. Perhaps I should say she was the beautiful part of her world. Somehow, to think of her increases my faith. Embodied in the child was hope.
Mormon taught that “little children are alive in Christ” and need not repent.
Around the turn of the previous century, two missionaries were laboring in the mountains of the southern United States. One day, from a hilltop, they saw people gathering in a clearing far below. The missionaries did not often have many people to whom they might preach, so they made their way down to the clearing.
A little boy had drowned, and there was to be a funeral. His parents had sent for the minister to “say words” over their son. The missionaries stood back as the itinerant minister faced the grieving father and mother and began his sermon. If the parents expected to receive comfort from this man of the cloth, they would be disappointed.
He scolded them severely for not having had the little boy baptized. They had put it off because of one thing or another, and now it was too late. He told them very bluntly that their little boy had gone to hell. It was their fault. They were to blame for his endless torment.
After the sermon was over and the grave was covered, the elders approached the grieving parents. “We are servants of the Lord,” they told the mother, “and we have come with a message for you.” As the sobbing parents listened, the two elders read from the revelations and bore their testimony of the restoration of the keys for the redemption of both the living and the dead.
I have some sympathy for that preacher. He was doing the best he could with such light and knowledge as he had. But there is more that he should have been able to offer. There is the fulness of the gospel.
The elders came as comforters, as teachers, as servants of the Lord, as authorized ministers of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
These children of whom I spoke represent all of our Heavenly Father’s children. “Children are an heritage of the Lord: and … happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them.”
The creation of life is a great responsibility for a married couple. It is the challenge of mortality to be a worthy and responsible parent. Neither man nor woman can bear children alone. It was meant that children have two parents—both a father and a mother. No other pattern or process can replace this one.
Long ago a woman tearfully told me that as a college student she had made a serious mistake with her boyfriend. He had arranged for an abortion. In due time they graduated and were married and had several other children. She told me how tormented she now was to look at her family, her beautiful children, and see in her mind the place, empty now, where that one child was missing.
If this couple understands and applies the Atonement, they will know that those experiences and the pain connected with them can be erased. No pain will last forever. It is not easy, but life was never meant to be either easy or fair. Repentance and the lasting hope that forgiveness brings will always be worth the effort.
Another young couple tearfully told me they had just come from a doctor where they were told they would be unable to have children of their own. They were brokenhearted with the news. They were surprised when I told them that they were actually quite fortunate. They wondered why I would say such a thing. I told them their state was infinitely better than that of other couples who were capable of being parents but who rejected and selfishly avoided that responsibility.
I told them, “At least you want children, and that desire will weigh heavily in your favor in your earthly lives and beyond because it will provide spiritual and emotional stability. Ultimately, you will be much better off because you wanted children and could not have them, as compared to those who could but would not have children.”
Still others remain unmarried and therefore childless. Some, due to circumstances beyond their control, are raising children as single mothers or single fathers. These are temporary states. In the eternal scheme of things—not always in mortality—righteous yearning and longing will be fulfilled.
“If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.”
The ultimate end of all activity in the Church is to see a husband and his wife and their children happy at home, protected by the principles and laws of the gospel, sealed safely in the covenants of the everlasting priesthood. Husbands and wives should understand that their first calling—from which they will never be released—is to one another and then to their children.
One of the great discoveries of parenthood is that we learn far more about what really matters from our children than we ever did from our parents. We come to recognize the truth in Isaiah’s prophecy that “a little child shall lead them.”
In Jerusalem, “Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,
“And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
“Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
“Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
“And he laid his hands on them, and departed thence.”
We read in the Book of Mormon of the visit of Jesus Christ to the New World. He healed and blessed the people and commanded that the little children should be brought to Him.
Mormon records, “They brought their little children and set them down upon the ground round about him, and Jesus stood in the midst; and the multitude gave way till they had all been brought unto him.”
He then commanded the people to kneel. With the children around Him, the Savior knelt and offered a prayer to our Father in Heaven. After the prayer, the Savior wept, “and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them.
“And when he had done this he wept again.”
I can understand the feelings expressed by the Savior toward children. There is much to be learned from following His example in seeking to pray for, bless, and teach “those little ones.”
I was number 10 in a family of 11 children. So far as I know, neither my father nor my mother served in a prominent calling in the Church.
Our parents served faithfully in their most important calling—as parents. Our father led our home in righteousness, never with anger or fear. And the powerful example of our father was magnified by the tender counsel of our mother. The gospel is a powerful influence in the life of every one of us in the Packer family and to the next generation and the next generation and the next, as far as we have seen.
I hope to be judged as good a man as my father. Before I hear those words “well done” from my Heavenly Father, I hope to first hear them from my mortal father.
Many times I have puzzled over why I should be called as an Apostle and then as the President of the Quorum of the Twelve in spite of having come from a home where the father could be termed as less active. I am not the only member of the Twelve who fits that description.
Finally I could see and understand that it may have been because of that circumstance that I was called. And I could understand why in all that we do in the Church, we need to provide the way, as leaders, for parents and children to have time together as families. Priesthood leaders must be careful to make the Church family friendly.
There are many things about living the gospel of Jesus Christ that cannot be measured by that which is counted or charted in records of attendance. We busy ourselves with buildings and budgets and programs and procedures. In so doing, it is possible to overlook the very spirit of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Too often someone comes to me and says, “President Packer, wouldn’t it be nice if … ?”
I usually stop them and say no, because I suspect that what follows will be a new activity or program that is going to add a burden of time and financial means on the family.
Family time is sacred time and should be protected and respected. We urge our members to show devotion to their families.
When we were first married, my wife and I decided that we would accept the children that would be born to us with the responsibility attending their birth and growth. In due time they have formed families of their own.
Twice in our marriage, at the time of the births of two of our little boys, we have had a doctor say, “I do not think you are going to keep this one.”
Both times this brought the response from us that we would give our lives if our tiny son could keep his. In the course of that offer, it dawned on us that this same devotion is akin to what Heavenly Father feels about each of us. What a supernal thought.
Now in the sunset of our lives, Sister Packer and I understand and witness that our families can be forever. As we obey the commandments and live the gospel fully, we will be protected and blessed. With our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, our prayer is that each one of our growing family will have that same devotion toward those precious little ones.
Fathers and mothers, next time you cradle a newborn child in your arms, you can have an inner vision of the mysteries and purposes of life. You will better understand why the Church is as it is and why the family is the basic organization in time and in eternity. I bear witness that the gospel of Jesus Christ is true, that the plan of redemption, which has been called the plan of happiness, is a plan for families. I pray the Lord that the families of the Church will be blessed, parents and children, that this work will roll forth as the Father intends. I bear this witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Miguel liked to help Mama in the garden. He covered the tiny seeds with dirt. He gave them some water. But not too much.
“You are doing a good job,” Mama said. “Soon we will have lots of good things to eat.”
Miguel smiled. He was happy to help.
In a few days, small sprouts poked through the dirt. Miguel watered the plants. He pulled weeds that grew next to them. Each day the plants grew a little taller.
One day, he saw a worm. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to hurt it. But would it hurt the plants? His family got most of their food from the garden.
“Mama, look!” He pointed to the worm. It wiggled in the dirt. “Will it hurt the plants?”
She shook her head no and smiled. “Worms are good for the garden.”
Miguel watched the worm dig into the ground. “It’s making holes in the dirt!” he said.
“That’s what it’s supposed to do. It’s breaking up the dirt so the roots can grow strong. It’s one of Heavenly Father’s creatures. It has its own special purpose.” Mama kissed Miguel on the top of his head. “Just like you do.”
Miguel dug around the plants. He was careful not to hurt the worm. He saw other worms. He smiled as they dug their tunnels.
Miguel liked the worms. He wanted to treat all of Heavenly Father’s creatures with respect.