Gospel Story Finder

A friend of mine once told me that after she had served a dinner featuring vegetables, a young guest said, “I thought I didn’t like spinach, but that creamed spinach was delicious!” Like many of us, my friend took seriously President Kimball’s counsel to garden. Now she grows her own vegetables. She prepares and serves them with great culinary skill. Guests leave her table with increased appreciation for good, healthful foods.

As I surveyed the elderly people assembled for the nursing home sacrament meeting, I was worried. Several patients appeared to be asleep. One woman cried over and over, “I want to go home.” Most of those who were awake stared vaguely through clouded eyes. I wondered why the young men and young women of our ward had come to present this sacrament meeting. Other than giving these elderly Church members the opportunity to partake of the sacrament, why did we bother?
One of the young men conducted the service. It would be like any other sacrament meeting, with an opening hymn, an opening prayer, a sacrament hymn, the passing of the sacrament, speakers, and a closing hymn.
As we sang “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” I noticed one frail sister who, until this moment, had remained perfectly still, staring off into space. Now she sang every word from memory. When the sacrament was passed, almost every patient partook. I began to realize that the patients knew what was going on.
Following the sacrament, Shawna, the Laurel president, spoke on enduring to the end. I wondered how her words would affect people who had endured more than we could possibly imagine.
I was distracted from my thoughts by a very real presence in the room. I felt the Spirit as strongly as I’ve ever felt it before. Then I noticed that nearly all of the elderly brothers and sisters had their eyes focused on Shawna. The Spirit had linked us together as brothers and sisters, children of our Heavenly Father.
A scripture came to my mind: “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity” (1 Cor. 13:13).
There may have been many reasons for that sacrament meeting, but the greatest of them was charity, the pure love of Christ.

My wife, Brittney, and I began purchasing food storage early in our marriage. In the first months after our wedding, we bought a few storable items each time we went grocery shopping. By adding a little bit at a time, we accumulated a useful store of food. We didn’t know when we would need to use it, but we knew it was important.
A year into our marriage, we moved across the country for graduate school, and we brought our food storage with us. Financially, things were difficult. We had used all of our savings to secure housing, and Brittney received no income as a student teacher. We relied on my graduate school assistantship to pay the bills, but it didn’t go far.
Our finances took another turn for the worse the second night in our new home. Brittney woke up with severe stomach pain, and when it didn’t subside after several hours, we went to the hospital. She had her appendix removed later that day.
After she recovered, we sat down to budget our money. As we calculated the next four months’ bills—which included the emergency surgery—we discovered we could still get by without going into debt. In order to do so, however, we could spend no more than $25 each month on groceries. That was about one-fourth of what we were used to spending.
The food storage we had accumulated over the past year became invaluable. It was enough to cover our basic needs for four months, and we used the budgeted $25 to buy milk and other perishables. We didn’t eat fancy food, but we didn’t go hungry.
As we lived frugally and served others willingly, we received added blessings. One of my fellow students finished his degree and asked us to help his family move. While we were helping, he asked if we would like to take the food left in their freezer. Because of his kindness, we now had meat to supplement our food storage.
The Lord blessed us as we prepared food storage, paid our tithing, and showed willingness to serve. We made it through those months without borrowing any money. After that semester, my wife found a full-time job, and we could afford to spend more money on groceries. We built up our food storage again, and we continue to be blessed as we obey the Lord’s commandments.

When you are away from home and family, prayer can provide the shield of protection you will need. Parting can be hard, particularly when the parent and the child know that they may not see each other for a long time. I had that experience with my father. We parted on a street corner in New York City. He had come there for his work. I was there on my way to another place. We both knew that I probably would never return to live with my parents under the same roof again.
It was a sunny day, around noontime, the streets crowded with cars and pedestrians. On that particular corner there was a traffic light that stopped the cars and the people in all directions for a few minutes. The light changed to red; the cars stopped. The crowd of pedestrians hurried off the curbs, moving every way, including diagonally, across the intersection.
The time had come for parting, and I started across the street. I stopped almost in the center, with people rushing by me. I turned to look back. Instead of moving off in the crowd, my father was still standing on the corner looking at me. To me he seemed lonely and perhaps a little sad. I wanted to go back to him, but I realized the light would change and so I turned and hurried on.
Years later I talked to him about that moment. He told me that I had misread his face. He said he was not sad; he was concerned. He had seen me look back, as if I were a little boy, uncertain and looking for assurance. He told me in those later years that the thought in his mind had been: “Will he be all right? Have I taught him enough? Is he prepared for whatever may lie ahead?”
There were more than thoughts in his mind. I knew from having watched him that he had feelings in his heart. He yearned for me to be protected, to be safe. I had heard and felt that yearning in his prayers, and even more in the prayers of my mother, for all the years I had lived with them. I had learned from that, and I remembered.

Since joining the Church, I have had many opportunities to serve my brothers and sisters in various callings, many in leadership positions. I always believed my purpose in life was to serve others and not myself. However, that changed 10 years ago, when one Christmas, I was rushed to the hospital because my kidneys stopped working. The doctor in the emergency room told my family that my condition was so severe that they weren’t sure if I would make it through the night and that they should be prepared for the bad news. I spent three days in intensive care, but thanks to the Savior’s mercy, I was moved to a regular room on the third day and stayed in the hospital for 15 days. My kidneys didn’t recover, and I became a chronic kidney patient, now requiring dialysis three times a week.
I remember pouring out my heart in prayer to Heavenly Father, asking Him to give me more time to see my children serve missions. The Lord heard my plea, and I was able to leave the hospital. I have been fortunate to see my two sons go forth to serve the Lord.
Five years ago, I faced another health challenge. Doctors found a malignant tumor in my colon, and I had to undergo emergency surgery to remove 25 centimeters (10 in) of my transverse colon. During that time, I lost more than 15 pounds (7 kg) in two months. The chemotherapy treatments were so harsh on my body that I became extremely weak and couldn’t eat. Again, my family was told to prepare for the worst. I prayed if it was His will, I still wanted to see my youngest son go on his mission. A miracle happened by God’s great love, and I made it through. The tumor was removed entirely, and my youngest son is currently serving in the Maracaibo Venezuela Mission and is happy to share the gospel and help bring souls unto Christ.
Last December, I had an accident. I fell on the street and broke my hip on both sides and my right arm. This has been one of my greatest trials because it kept me in bed, and I couldn’t walk for more than seven months. They put a hip prosthetic on one side, and the doctor decided to wait until I could walk before they put the other one in. I am still struggling with this challenge today, but I’m not facing it alone. I know my Savior has been by my side every day and always will be. This time, I prayed to help me regain my health so I could continue to enjoy the blessings of going to the temple and serving others. Many people have come to support and assist me. I’ve learned to be humble, recognize my weaknesses, and accept the service they have given me.
I have a testimony of the Savior’s love, of His mercy. I testify that He answers prayers, and through faith, He sustains us in the most challenging times. I testify to the power of the priesthood, which blesses people’s lives. I know we are on this earth to be tested, serve, and love people. I testify that miracles have never ceased to happen—I am an example of those miracles. Because of those miracles, I am still on this earth to testify of Him.

Shortly after Truman was ordained a member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy, the Prophet Joseph Smith requested that he build a store in Kirtland, Ohio. Truman declined, telling the Prophet he was preparing to leave for a mission. The next day, however, Truman saw the First Presidency in the distance and felt prompted to accept the building assignment from the Prophet. He later recorded, “Accordingly I changed my determination and yielded obedience.”1

Summer means Summiteer outings. The culmination of the Campcrafter program offers young women a chance to face a new challenge. Summiteers in Bremerton, Washington, took to the water in canoes while the Summiteers in Colorado Springs, Colorado, climbed Pikes Peak.
The Colorado Springs Colorado Stake tackled the trail to the top of Pikes Peak. It was the first Summiteer trip ever attempted by the stake for Young Women. Although the young women were aware of the difficulties, they found the stamina and strength to make the top and received a great sense of accomplishment and love for nature.

One thing that I learnt from my mission experience is, “one’s life cannot be both faith-filled and stress-free.”2 During my mission I was so happy to have so many families who love me. On the other hand, I was getting weak as I had health issues which affected me a lot. I was expecting the Lord to give me a stress-free and faith-filled life.
Elder Neal A. Maxwell said, “How can you and I really expect to glide naively through life, as if to say, ‘Lord give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken. Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art!’”3
When I read this quote, I felt peace in my heart even when I’m suffering physically. It has given me a strong assurance that if we want to be Christ’s disciple, we need to go through challenges as He did. Challenges can appear to be things we can’t bear.
It was a great challenge for me to get a mission call, to serve, for only 14 months, not 18 months which made me sad. But through God’s grace I can still feel the peace and happiness.
Sometimes we choose good and expect God to bless us in a way we want. But a true disciple of Christ needs to accept the God’s will rather than our desires.
I know that as we serve Him in the time given to us, whether it’s 18 months or 2 years, with all our heart, might, mind and strength, we will be blessed according to His will and His timing. I know that Jesus is the Christ and He atoned for us. I know he loves us unconditionally. And all he asks us to do is to keep His commandments.

Ty climbed into the car with Mom and Dad for the long trip to the hospital. He felt sick to his stomach. He would rather go to school all day than have surgery on his foot!
Over the past several weeks, Ty’s family had prayed that his surgery would go well. Ty had also prayed that he would not be too scared. Last night Dad had given him a blessing that he would be courageous and that the surgery would fix the problem with his foot.
So why did he still feel so nervous?
“Don’t worry, Ty,” Dad said from the driver’s seat. “The surgery is very simple, and the doctor knows what he’s doing. Everything is going to be fine.”
Ty nodded, but he didn’t feel any better. His parents had explained to him that even though he didn’t have any problems walking or running now, if he didn’t have this surgery, his foot would have problems in the future.
Maybe it would be better to just deal with the problems later on, Ty thought.
As they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, Ty started to cry. Surgery sounded so scary!
“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” Mom said, turning around in the front seat.
“I don’t want to have the surgery!” Ty said, choking down tears.
“Ty, this surgery is a blessing,” Mom said. “We live in a time when doctors can fix your foot so you can have a healthy, active life. We have all been praying for you, and Dad gave you a blessing last night. Heavenly Father will help you. It’s going to be OK.”
Ty knew everything Mom said was true, but he still felt scared. Dad parked the car and turned around to face Ty.
“What can we do to help you, Ty?” Dad asked.
Ty was quiet for a long time. He thought about what Mom had said. He knew Heavenly Father could help him be ready for his surgery. Maybe he just needed to show a little more faith.
“I want to say another prayer,” Ty said.
“Who do you want to say it?” Dad asked.
“I’ll say it,” Ty said.
Sitting in the car in front of the hospital, they all bowed their heads, and Ty started to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he said, “please help me be brave so I can have this surgery. Thank you for blessing us with good doctors and medicine so I can get better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
A warm feeling of peace filled Ty as he finished the prayer.
“Do you feel that?” Mom asked.
“Yeah. Is that the Holy Ghost?” Ty asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “That’s the Holy Ghost telling us everything’s going to be all right.”
“What do you think, Ty? Are you ready to go in?” Mom asked.
Ty took a deep breath. He still felt a little nervous, but he knew it was going to be OK. He nodded his head. “I’m ready,” he said.
A few hours later, Ty left the hospital with a bandaged foot. Dad pushed him out to the car in a wheelchair. He would need to walk on crutches for the next few weeks, but the doctor had said the surgery went well. Ty had a smile on his face. He knew the Holy Ghost had helped him be courageous.

When Sabrina was a freshman, Eva gave her a Book of Mormon with her testimony written in the front. As Sabrina read, she and Eva would talk about it. But another friend saw her reading it and persuaded her not to finish her reading. It took two years of talking with her LDS friends and taking the missionary discussions before Sabrina was ready for baptism. She said, “I prayed one day and I got part of my answer. I felt I was doing the right thing. Everything seemed to be right. The more I prayed, the stronger I felt it was right.”
Sabrina’s baptism affected her life in many ways. “My dad was glad because he’s seen a big change in me.” When asked how she has changed, Sabrina is a little at a loss for words. Her friends chime in with a list. “She’s a lot happier, getting better grades, involved in a lot more things, more self-confident.” Then Sabrina added a few more. “I was kind of shy, but now I’m not as much. It has changed how I feel about my friends and my family, my brothers and sisters.”
Sabrina’s friends and family aren’t the only ones who have noticed a change for the better. Sabrina says that before she joined the Church, she barely made passing grades. She will be the first one of her brothers and sisters to finish high school and the first to go on to college. “My teachers and counselors have all seen this big change. They look back at records and say, ‘What happened? What did she do that is so different?’ I was nowhere, and now I set goals.”

A few years ago, my mother was diagnosed as having a malignant brain tumor. Despite the crushing news, my father, a firm believer in miracles, insisted that she could recover if our family exerted the necessary faith. We prayed fervently, and Mother received many priesthood blessings. But her condition grew steadily worse.
Desperate yet undaunted, Father continued to attend the temple daily. As I stood at the window and watched him leave for the temple early one morning, I remembered a day many years earlier, when my little brother was thrown from a horse. Thinking he had suffered only a little bruising and a bloody nose, I was devastated when he died late that night. My world caved in, and for months I mulled over the painful question, Why hadn’t Heavenly Father sent a miracle to save my brother’s life?
I turned away from the window, thinking about miracles: Who is entitled to them? Are they granted strictly by faith? How, exactly, do you measure a miracle? Then I thought of my mother. Now she seemed to be slipping away—dying from a second brain tumor some thirty-five years after her first one had been removed. She had lived happily and productively—a full life—and I wondered if there could be another miracle in store for her.
When I kissed her for what would be the last time in this life, I told her I loved her. The serene look on her face as she passed away convinced me that I had witnessed one of the greatest miracles of all. Because of the reality of the gospel and of Christ’s resurrection, I knew she was smiling again, embracing all those loved ones who had gone on before.
I still don’t know how to measure a miracle, but it no longer matters. Miracles happen with every breath we take. And sometimes the best miracles are not in living, but in going home.

A four-year-old Brazilian girl, Mayara Fernanda dos Santos, suffering from leukemia and on oxygen, was blessed recently by Elder Claudio Costa and myself in Curitiba, Brazil. After the blessing, empathetic little Mayara smilingly wiped a tear from her anxious mother’s cheek. Instinctively wise beyond her years, Mayara knows how to “comfort those that stand in need of comfort,” including her precious parents, who are willing to wait upon the Lord (Mosiah 18:9).

June 18 and 19 also found another group of young Latter-day Saints from ten stakes in Spanish Fork, Utah, together in Santaquin Canyon. By 3:00 P.M. Friday many had already arrived. Registration continued until 6:00 P.M. with over 350 people signing up to spend the next two days together.
After a full day of registration and other activities, the youth filled the lodge to hear Elder Marion D. Hanks. Using the opening song as a springboard, he explained the difference between moving your arm up and down to the piano and really leading the music. “It’s all in the spirit of the song,” he said. “You need to feel what you are leading and make it a part of you. So it is with the gospel. We need to live it.” After Elder Hanks’ address, the youth cleared the lodge of chairs and made ready for a dance.
Six o’clock in the morning came too early, but everyone made it out of bed after some struggle. After the posting of the colors the Spanish Fork youth gathered in the fresh canyon morning to listen to one anothers’ testimonies. A breakfast of sausage, scrambled eggs, hot cakes, and hot chocolate was ready to eat as soon as the closing prayer was given. High councilors and their wives from all the stakes prepared the breakfast. It only took 30 minutes to fill all the plates once, but that didn’t account for the many return trips. The rest of the morning was jam-packed with workshops.
As the group finished lunch, a master of ceremonies took over, and a talent show was underway. Skits, songs, readings—many different talents were presented. Soon everyone in the lodge was laughing as hard as those on stage. As soon as the talent show ended, everyone got in on the act. Teams of ten were formed, and relay contests opened with nail driving. Three-legged races are common, but has anyone ever tried a four-legged race with three people tied together? As the last relay ended, so did the fun of the two-day conference.

“What kind of job do you want to have when you grow up?” Mrs. Lu asked the class.
That was easy to answer! I wanted to be a scientist. I imagined myself wearing a lab coat and doing awesome experiments.
“Today each of you will take a test on the computer that will tell you what jobs you might enjoy someday,” Mrs. Lu said.
Soon I was at the computer, taking my test. I answered all the questions and took a deep breath as I hit the “finish” button.
Scientist! Artist! Astronaut! I thought as the results loaded. Those jobs would be amazing.
But the results did not mention any of those jobs. I looked at the list. Graphic designer sounded kind of cool. I wasn’t so sure about baker. Or event planner.
The most surprising one was the top result. It told me that I would most enjoy being … a florist.
What?! Someone who arranges flowers? I thought. This has to be a mistake!
But I knew I had answered each question honestly. My face felt hot. I didn’t want my friends to see my results, so I hurried and shut down the computer.
“Cool!” said my best friend, Dan. “My top result is website designer!”
“That’s awesome,” I mumbled. “But do you think this test is really right about what our job should be?”
“Well, it’s just a test,” said Dan, shrugging. “What was your top job?”
I froze in fear. “It’s probably wrong. But it told me I should be a florist.”
My worst fears came true. Dan started laughing.
“I knew you’d want to pick flowers for a job! You’ve always liked weird things like that,” Dan joked.
“No way!” I snapped. “I don’t even like flowers.”
Dan smiled and turned back to his computer. My stomach started to hurt. I was so embarrassed! Was the test right? Was Dan right?
Walking home from school, I still felt embarrassed about my test results. I thought about all the things I loved to do, like making art and playing the piano. They were pretty different from the things that some of the other boys in my class liked.
Maybe I am weird, I thought. Tears filled my eyes as I walked inside.
“What’s wrong, Jeff?” Dad asked. “Did something happen at school?”
I sat down and told him all about the job test and how I felt different from a lot of the other boys.
“You know, Jeff,” he said, “Heavenly Father gave you your talents. He loves you and wants you to develop them. And I love you too! Liking different things than your friends like doesn’t make you weird.”
“Really?” I asked.
Dad nodded. “We are all supposed to be different. I want you to love who you are. And remember, the test was just to give you some ideas of what you might like to do. It doesn’t mean that you’ll definitely end up with one of those jobs. You get to make your own choices. But if someday you choose to be a florist, I’m sure you’ll be great at it!”
“Thanks, Dad.” I gave him a hug. My stomach didn’t feel sick anymore.
The next day at school, Dan sat by me at lunch. “Hey, Jeff,” he said. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. I think you’d be awesome at whatever job you have!”
“Thanks, Dan,” I said. “Who knows—maybe I’ll own a flower shop and you’ll build my shop’s website!”
“Deal,” said Dan, smiling. “Maybe I’ll be your first customer too!”
This story took place in the USA.

The late Elder Matthew Cowley, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, once recounted the Saturday afternoon experience of a grandfather as hand in hand he took his small granddaughter on a birthday visit—not to the zoo or to the movies but to the temple grounds. With permission of the groundskeeper, the two walked to the large doors of the temple. He suggested that she place her hand on the sturdy wall and then on the massive door. Tenderly he then said to her, “Remember that this day you touched the temple. One day you will go inside.” His gift to the little one was not candy or ice cream but an experience far more significant and everlasting—an appreciation of the house of the Lord. She had touched the temple, and the temple had touched her.

Naledi Mqokozo has been coming to the temple grounds since she was small. And now that she is older and often in the temple, you could say the temple is in her—in her heart and in her thoughts. “I have a picture in my room of the Johannesburg temple,” says Naledi, 17. “I put the picture up on my wall so I can always think clean thoughts and help keep the presence of the Spirit.”
It’s a little rainy on this morning in Johannesburg, South Africa. But the rain has not dampened the happy mood of Naledi and the other youth from the Ennerdale Branch, Johannesburg South Africa Stake, who have come to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead. Naledi is here because she “wanted an opportunity to see the temple again and to experience the Spirit of the Lord.” To Naledi, a day at the temple is not just another day. “This is a special occasion and a special moment,” she says, “so we should dress and act in a special way.”
Naledi understands that the temple is a sacred place: “We should be very reverent in the temple because it is the house of God and it has the Holy Spirit inside. So we should prepare ourselves and carry ourselves in a moral way and be very clean and respectful.”

“Emma goes to our church?” I asked Sister Taylor. I was surprised that she had called Emma’s name while taking roll.
“Do you know Emma?” Sister Taylor asked me.
“She’s in my class at school, but I’ve never seen her at church,” I said.
“Maybe you should invite her to come with you sometime, Maddie,” Sister Taylor said with an encouraging smile.
I nodded my head slowly. I didn’t know Emma very well. We played with different friends at recess. I was afraid to invite Emma to church. What if she said no? But as I thought about it, the Holy Ghost helped me feel calm inside. I knew I needed to try.
The next day at recess I saw Emma jumping rope. I grabbed a jump rope and joined her. We jumped faster and faster, laughing when our feet got tangled in the rope.
“Emma,” I said, untangling my feet, “I didn’t know we were members of the same church.”
“Mormon?” Emma asked.
“Yes. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I said.
She started jumping again. “I was baptized when I was younger, but my family stopped going to church.”
I knew I should ask her to go to church with me, but my stomach felt like it was a tangled jump rope. I remembered I had promised myself I would try, so I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Would you like to go to church with me?” I asked.
Emma stopped jumping. “Sure. If my mom says it’s OK.”
After school I told my mom what had happened at recess.
“Let’s call her mom and ask,” Mom said, picking up the phone. She talked to Emma’s mom for a few minutes and then hung up. “She said that would be fine,” Mom said. “We can pick up Emma before church and take her home when we’re done.”
I was excited when Sunday came. We drove up to Emma’s apartment. She looked nervous in her pink dress. In sacrament meeting she whispered to me, “I don’t remember what to do.”
I whispered back to Emma reminding her what to do with the sacrament bread and water. During Primary I sat next to Emma, and when we got to class I introduced her to the rest of the children.
“We are so happy to have you here,” Sister Taylor said.
By the time class was over, Emma wasn’t nervous anymore. She had a big smile on her face.
I invited Emma to church and Primary activities whenever I could. She came more and more often. The children in our Primary got to know her, and soon Emma had many new friends.
One Sunday, Emma stopped me after sacrament meeting. She was with a woman who had brown hair that matched hers.
“Maddie, I want you to meet someone,” Emma said. “This is my mom.”
“Thank you for being a good friend to my daughter,” Emma’s mom said to me with a smile.
I smiled back. I was glad Emma was my friend too.

Part of the problem is for us to live the eternal principles faithfully every day. One of the sisters with whom I am privileged to associate had this to say:
“Sundays were difficult when my children were small—getting them ready and then having them sit through three hours of meetings. Often they became tired, hungry, or even bored because the meetings were geared to an adult level. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth the effort. I seldom felt spiritually fed because I was trying so hard to help my children be reverent.
“Looking back now, I can see that those early Church experiences for my children were the beginnings of a firm foundation upon which they could continue to build. Because they were there each week, they gradually learned the importance of the sacrament; they learned to listen, to be reverent, to recognize the sweet feelings of the Spirit; and their testimonies began to blossom. I recognize that this is a unique and precious time for us when our children are small and need our guidance. Now my children are grown I can clearly see that my constant, repetitive efforts were worthwhile.”

Then the unthinkable happened. I received a gut-wrenching, life-shattering phone call.
“Call 911!” my distressed husband yelled. “I’m pinned under the tractor!”
I called for help and then made it in record time to the land he had been clearing, passing a long line of emergency vehicles on the gravel road to our property in Pea Ridge, Arkansas, USA. Barry was alive, but he was indeed pinned beneath the engine of a tractor that had flipped.
Using hydraulic rescue tools, emergency workers lifted the tractor and pulled Barry free. His legs, soaked in diesel fuel, looked broken in several places. He was rushed to a trauma center, where he received a priesthood blessing before having his legs X-rayed.
We were surprised that not one bone was broken, but the back of one of Barry’s legs had been severely burned by diesel fuel. The crush injury had also led to toxification of his kidneys. His life was in jeopardy.
After Barry spent five tense days in the hospital, his toxin levels finally began to drop. Months of dressing changes, skin grafts, surgeries, and hyperbaric oxygen therapy followed. Once he felt well enough, Barry resumed his sales job from home.

Some classes are very humble indeed. President Kimball and I once attended a seminary class in North Dakota. We did not meet in a fine room with a blackboard and projector and special school chairs. We met in the very small bedroom in a very small house.
The teacher, Sister Two Dogs, sat on the edge of the bed. The students crowded together on the floor. It was no less a class than one held in a beautiful building. The most important ingredient, the Spirit of the Lord, was there. I attended a seminary graduation in Omaha, Nebraska. The speaker, again a young man, described this experience.
“Each morning I awoke to the sweet voice of my mother calling out, ‘John, John, time to get ready for seminary!’ The year rolled on and the mornings grew cold and wet and dark; still the happy voice of Mother would sing out, ‘John, John, time to get up for seminary!’” Then he added, “I learned to hate that sound!”
But then, choking back the tears, he thanked his mother for what she had given him. And I think only later did he realize that she had to be up first every morning.