Gospel Story Finder

After many days and nights of uncertainty and worry, I was slowly falling into a bout of depression. Once again my life was in a huge upheaval. Much of the problem was the typical teenage syndrome: struggles with dear friends, worries about the future, and the stresses of daily activities. Folded into the mix was the fact of a family moving across the country.
Nothing seemed good in my life, and I felt like I had nobody to turn to, until one friend asked me if I had prayed about my adversity and asked the Lord for help. The thought immediately came to my mind: “Why haven’t I thought of that?” So I began praying to Heavenly Father about my challenges. Little did I know that the Lord was about to change my life and the lives of others in a most unexpected way.
One evening after a long practice for a school play, I was dropping off a couple of my peers in the neighborhood when I felt the prompting to ask one friend if he would like to come to a service project my stake was doing that night for Mutual. He had received the missionary lessons a few years before but had not chosen to join the Church. Immediately, I felt a slight embarrassment for asking him to a Church activity starting in only a few moments. To my complete surprise, he politely accepted the invitation, and after arranging for him to borrow some Church clothes, we were at the meeting with the other youth.
Known in my stake as the “Seminary Basket Project,” this popular activity consists of the youth’s visiting the lonely and elderly of the community during the holiday season. After visiting several homes, bringing them bags of fruit accompanied by a short message and hymn, my friend remarked on what a good time he had been having. Once again I felt awkward as I followed the prompting to invite him to the testimony meeting following the activity. He joked a little about people who cry when bearing testimony but agreed to go to the meeting to “check it out.”
At the meeting I again had a prompting, this time to bear my testimony. Unable to sit still, I walked up to the podium and expressed how grateful I was for the help of the gospel in my challenges. Sure enough, I became one of the “criers” my nonmember friend and I had been joking about just a few minutes before! The meeting continued, with a tremendous feeling of the Spirit obviously present. Many uplifting testimonies were borne, and there was something miraculous still to come.
A complete shock hit me as I watched my friend stand up, slip out of the pews and approach the stand! The feeling I had as I watched my friend bear his testimony and say, “I’m gonna be a Mormon,” is indescribable. The thought of the enormity and importance of what had just transpired stuck with me throughout the rest of the evening.
Because of the support and example of good friends and the prompting of the Lord, my friend had ended his long internal struggle with the idea of becoming a Latter-day Saint. It was a relief for those who had pretty much given up hope. What a joyous day it was when only a few short weeks later my friend informed me of his baptism date! There was hardly enough room for the supportive friends who attended his baptism, and almost no one was without a tear in his eye. The same Spirit was present for his confirmation during the next day’s fast and testimony meeting.
Many bore testimony about how my friend’s decision to change his own life had changed their lives. It was evident that not only had many pleading prayers for my friend been answered, but many others’ testimonies had been strengthened. God had brought about His great and eternal purposes by bringing one precious soul into His Church while also strengthening those involved. If we rely on the Lord, pray, and strive to be a righteous example, He will make us an instrument in His eternal plans, better our lives, and bring about great things.

Bro. Tew: Brothers and Sisters, Aloha. We are humbled and grateful for the opportunity to share some time with you this morning. As I finished my mission and my degree at BYU, I moved into an apartment complex in Murray, Utah and started working as an accountant.
Sis. Tew: As I finished my mission and my degree at Southern Utah University, I moved into that same apartment complex and started teaching first grade. I was assigned a wonderful home teacher. He came very faithfully every month, then he started coming every week, then he came over every day. So I decided to keep him.
Bro. Tew: We were married and began anticipating having a family. After a year we started seeing doctors and after two and a half years we filled out our adoption paperwork with LDS Family Services.
Sis. Tew: After five years, we were given a wonderful gift, our first daughter Jessica. I finally got to be a Mom. Now we have four adopted children, ranging from ages two to twelve.

I was still sitting on the porch thinking when Katie and Shauna came running around the house. “Come and play catch with us,” they called.
We threw the ball back and forth to each other, and then Katie threw one that was too high for me. Running backward to catch it, I slipped and fell on my backside in a clump of Mom’s blue irises. Mom came out of the shed just then with a pair of clippers to cut a bouquet. I looked at the smashed flowers and was just starting to speak, when something inside of me seemed to say, “No, Janna Lynn, you’re not going to say Katie made you do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I ran backward and fell.”
“Yes, I know. I saw you,” she replied.
“And you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
The way she laughed, I almost felt good about sitting on her flowers.
“Just look at all those irises that you didn’t sit on,” she said. “A daughter who tells the truth is more important than a whole yard full of flowers!”
Goodness! That must have been the Holy Ghost prompting me to tell the truth, I thought. And He’s helping me to learn what a great feeling you have when you know you’ve done the right thing. I could hardly wait to tell Cindy.

May I share with you a recently published letter to “Dear Abby” that seems to clinch a point in this area of vision and values.
“Dear Abby: Cold chills ran up my spine when I read the letter from the heartbroken mother, whose daughter, a nurse, was marrying an amputee. (He lost both his legs when he stepped on a mine in Vietnam.) The mother said her daughter was beautiful and could just as easily have married ‘a whole man.’ I am sure many people think my husband could have married ‘a whole woman’ instead of me. You see, when I was three I was shot with a .22 rifle. Thank God I am still alive, although my left side is paralyzed. I can walk and do most things other women can do. But best of all, a wonderful man thought I was ‘whole’ enough to marry. He is handsome, kind, and faithful, and he treats me like a queen. We’ve been happily married for ten years. I still can’t believe my good luck. Sign me, Freddy’s wife.”
“Dear Freddy’s Wife: It’s more than ‘luck.’ You must have a lot going for you. Congratulations.”
May I add my congratulations to you, too, Abby, for taking someone by the hand and giving her a lift.

Over 450 young men and women from four states gathered on the campus of the University of Wisconsin in Whitewater, Wisconsin, for a special youth conference. Three days of activities were planned to help young people and chaperons build friendships and testimonies.
Working with the theme “In His Steps,” the youth committee included both fun activities and workshops to help each participant have a positive experience. The careful preparation paid off. Attendance was good, and many testimonies were strengthened and shared. One girl from northern Michigan summed up her reaction: “It was the best conference I’ve ever attended. I’m the only Mormon in my high school, and it’s been great to be here with people you can talk to. I’m going back home a better person.”

President Harold B. Lee used to tell about a man who had heard a rumor of a mysterious person appearing to temple workers, warning them, “You had better hurry and store food for a year, or two, or three, because there will come a season when there won’t be any production.”
The man asked President Lee what he thought about it. President Lee said: “Were you at April conference?”
“No, I couldn’t be there.”
“You surely read the report of what was said by the Brethren at that conference, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well,” President Lee said, “at that conference the Lord gave a revelation about food storage. How in the world is the Lord going to get over to you what he wants you to do if you are not there when he says it, and you do not take the time to read it after it has been said?” (Harold B. Lee, “The Place of the Living Prophet, Seer, and Revelator,” Address to Seminary and Institute of Religion Personnel, BYU, 8 July 1964).

Thomas ran through the house looking for Dad. His Scout patrol meeting started in 10 minutes, and he needed help tying his neckerchief.
“Dad! Can you help me?” Thomas pointed at his neckerchief. But Dad was busy talking on the phone.
“Of course Cody can join our patrol,” Thomas heard Dad say. “In fact, we have a campout next weekend.” Dad talked some more, then smiled and hung up.
“Who was that?” Thomas asked.
“You know Cody from school? That was his dad. Cody’s going to join our den and come on the campout next weekend.”
Going on overnight campouts was Thomas’s favorite part of being an 11-year-old Scout, and he liked Cody. But he was confused about one thing. “But Cody doesn’t go to our church.”
“I know,” Dad said. “Cody’s church doesn’t do Scouts, so he wants to join our patrol.”
But everybody in our patrol is from our ward, Thomas thought. How would Cody fit in?
Before the campout, everyone met up at the Church building. “Hi,” Cody said to Thomas. The boys talked for a bit, and then Cody said, “I brought a two-person tent. Wanna share it with me?” Thomas grinned and said yes. Soon the Scouts set off for the mountains. When they got there, the boys ran off to set up their tents.
“Ready?” Thomas called to Cody.
“Ready!” The two boys pushed the tent poles into the ground. Their tent rose up and made a long shadow. “That was easy,” Cody said. “Race you to the river!” Cody bolted away, and Thomas followed behind.
Cody took a turn leading a hike and lighting the campfire. He liked exploring and was really friendly. Thomas was glad Cody got along with the group so well.
At dinner that night, Cody and Thomas grabbed their tinfoil dinners and joined the other patrol members at the picnic table. “Brother Wilson, will you say the prayer?” Dad asked one of the other leaders.
Thomas folded his arms and looked over at Cody. He wasn’t sure how Cody prayed at his church. But Cody bowed his head too and said “amen” at the end—just like everybody else.
“Why did your dad call him ‘Brother Wilson’?” Cody whispered. “Is he really his brother?”
“It’s because we’re all children of Heavenly Father,” Thomas explained. “Do you pray the same way we do?”
Cody smiled. “We use some different words, but it’s mostly the same.”
Pretty soon it was time for s’mores around the campfire. “Now we’ll have Cody give the spiritual thought for tonight,” Dad said.
Thomas was surprised, but Cody gave him a thumbs-up as he walked to the front of the group. “Thanks for letting me come,” Cody said. “I was a little nervous at first, but you’ve all been really nice. I’m going to share one of my favorite scriptures.”
Cody read, “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you” (John 13:34). Thomas recognized the scripture. “I go to a different church than you guys, but we all show that we love God in the same way—we love each other. Thanks for being my friends!”
Dad stood and thanked Cody. “Now let’s sing ‘Love One Another’ to finish our evening,” he said. Cody listened and smiled while the group sang.
“Nice song,” he said as he crawled into their tent. “It was just like my scripture!”
Thomas smiled and climbed into his sleeping bag. Cody and I might go to different churches, he thought, but we can still be great friends.

I remember reading several years ago of a man who had gone into the wilderness area of the state of Montana with a companion on a big game hunt. The hunters came upon a grizzly bear at rather close range, and one of the men fired at the bear and wounded it. In a rage the huge animal charged the hunters. One of them, in panic and in a desperate attempt to save himself, climbed into the lower branches of a small tree close by. The tree was not large enough to support the man’s weight and hold him beyond the reach of the bear’s powerful claws and jaws. Before his companion could destroy the bear, it had inflicted such serious injuries on the treed hunter that it was necessary to amputate both his legs in order to save his life.

“Oh, Mommy, do they have to come tomorrow?” I asked in a pleading voice.
“Of course they do. I’ve asked them to come early so they can stay all day, not just for Christmas dinner.”
“Why can’t we ever be by ourselves? Then we could have leftovers the next day,” I said. I didn’t like guests much, and especially not the Lindsays. They had five children, and these kids were the most ragged bunch in the whole school. My friends all said they were “different.”
“Christmas is for sharing, Karen,” my mother said. She was making pies for Christmas dinner and the spicy smell of apples and cinnamon filled the house.
“We won’t have enough food with the way the Lindsays eat. They’re always starving,” I grumbled, grabbing an apple while my mother put a pie in the oven.
“Now, Karen. You know we have enough for everyone, and Christmas is about giving. Now why don’t you go join your brother and Matthew to get the tree today.”
“Matthew? You mean Matthew Lindsay came over to get our Christmas tree too?” I was mad. My brother Jim and I always did that together. It was our tradition.
“Yes, Karen. Now hurry along,” she said. “And I want you to be nice to Matthew,” she added.
I put on my boots and my old coat and mittens and went out to find my brother. I didn’t even want to add Matthew’s name in my thoughts. It just wasn’t fair. Jim would be talking to him the whole time. They were both 12, and they wouldn’t even ask me about which tree to pick.
I saw them over by the barn getting the ax to chop down the tree.
“Hurry up, Karen, or we’ll have to go without you,” Jim shouted to me. He would never have said that if Matthew weren’t coming. He would have needed my help. I felt even madder.
Matthew smiled at me as I walked up to them. I just looked the other way.
The boys talked together all the way to the woods. I could have joined in, but that would have meant giving up my sulking, so I didn’t.
“Hey, Matt, how about that one?” Jim pointed at a beautiful tree. It was in the middle of a swampy area, but it was so cold that the water had frozen and we were able to get to it.
“What do you think, Karen?” Matthew asked me. I wished he hadn’t asked. I didn’t want to feel anything but angry right now.
“It looks OK,” I said grudgingly. It really was pretty, and I had to smile when I looked at it.
Matthew smiled too, and I began to feel better. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.
Jim and Matthew took turns chopping while I stood and watched. The tree started to fall in my direction. I jumped to the side to get away, and my feet broke through the ice! It wasn’t that deep, but the cold water went over the tops of my boots. It was awful, and it made my teeth chatter. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want Jim to wish he hadn’t brought me. But Matthew saw, and he helped me dump the icy water out of my boots.
By the time we were pulling the tree home over the snow, the sun had dropped low over the hills. It was so cold that my feet were stinging and I could hardly keep from crying.
When we were halfway home, I fell in the snow because my feet were numb and I couldn’t keep up. I was so cold and miserable that tears began slipping down my cheeks.
“What’s the matter now, Karen? Come on, we need to hurry home before it gets too dark,” Jim said as he pulled me to my feet. But I couldn’t walk another step.
“Here, I’ll carry her if you’ll drag the tree and carry the ax,” Matthew said. “The tree is heavier, and you’re bigger than I am.”
Matthew handed the ax to Jim and pulled me up on his back. I suddenly realized that Matthew’s hands were bare. They must be as cold as my feet, but he was willing to carry me. I slipped off my mittens and handed them to Matthew. Then I tucked my hands in the long sleeves of my coat. He couldn’t turn around to look at me since I was on his back. I was glad because I didn’t want to see his kind face after I had been so mean to him.
Maybe my friends were wrong about the Lindsays. Maybe I should tell them so.

When I was at Ricks College, I worked part-time and lived at home so that I could save money to go on a study abroad at the Jerusalem Center in Israel. I worked for years to save up enough money to go on this trip, depriving myself of a lot of things and opportunities that I would otherwise have enjoyed. Finally, the time came...I was accepted to the program and ready to go. Unfortunately, the first Gulf War began on the day we were to have left, in January 1991. I was devastated. I had looked forward to this for years, and now it felt like all of my hard work was for nothing. But things took an interesting turn. Although going to Israel was my main goal, I also had dreams of traveling through Europe and seeing many of the famous cultural sights of the world. As weeks passed by, they said that I could attend Fall semester in Israel, which was less expensive and left me with enough money to also go to Europe on a tour with the Humanities department at Ricks College. Like Tommy by the gumball machine, it had seemed like I was being deprived of something I really wanted, when later I got that plus so much more.

It was hot enough, Laura Jo imagined, to turn even a lizard belly-up in the sun. And the rocks in front of her rose higher than one of her Uncle Walton’s tall tales. But Laura Jo didn’t want to stop until she had scrambled down the other side of the butte so that she could leave her confusion and hurt feelings behind her at the schoolhouse on the flats below.
She knew that at twelve years old she couldn’t run away from her problems. But she was sure that if she could put some space between herself and her grievance—that at the moment being Sarah Greely—she could perhaps at least calm down about not being asked by Toby Dunlap to share his box lunch at the school picnic.
Maybe I sometimes wear old clothes, she thought as she followed the little crooked path up the steep slope, but that doesn’t mean I’m poor in the head! She made her way down the other side of the red-rock ridge to the big lightning-split cottonwood alongside Yellow Bird River. It was quiet there, as quiet as a prayer, just as a secret place should be.
Now, as Laura Jo gazed into the deep green water that glinted in the daylight, her disappointment seemed as deep as that river. Most of the kids were oblivious to her affliction by now—she was just another classmate to them. But Toby Dunlap was a new boy at school. In fact, today was his first day. It might have been the first time that he had seen gold ringlets as eye-fetching as Laura Jo Walker’s, because she was the one he had first approached to share his box lunch with.
That was before he knew about Laura Jo’s harelip. He tapped her on the shoulder, and halfway through his asking her if she would lunch with him at the picnic, Laura Jo turned around. Toby stopped, stared at her, then stated awkwardly that he suddenly remembered that he had already asked someone else.
It was only because Sarah Greely happened to be passing by, Laura Jo knew, that he ended up sharing his lunch with her. Still, Laura Jo had felt more unwanted than bad news. She leaned forward now and eyed her reflection in the inlet pond and for a moment wished that the girl looking back at her was someone other than Laura Jo Walker.
The sudden appearance of another face looming over hers in the water gave her a start. Then just as quickly she relaxed. It was Bishop Cole. He wore a broad-brimmed hat and a smile as big as a wasteland sunrise, and the latter, the girl’s father said, went on forever.
“Sorry if I startled you, Laura Jo,” he said kindly. “It appears that you and I have a liking for the same spot.” He leaned his fishing pole against the trunk of the old cottonwood and set his creel on the ground.
“I didn’t know that you like to come here, too, Bishop Cole.”
The tall man with the forever smile sat beside her, pushed back the brim of his hat, and squinted across the deep, wide ribbon of green water. “Almost as regularly as the sun coming up in the morning!” Then he added, “Well, at least once or twice a week. Bishops are pretty busy you know.”
Laura Jo nodded. “Do you come here to fish?” she asked, not able in her low mood to think of anything more sociable to say.
“That I do, honey,” Bishop Cole returned. “And to think.”
“So do I—to think that is.”
Bishop Cole beamed. “It must mean that Heavenly Father put enough quiet here for both of us.” He regarded her for a long moment, and his look shifted to one of quiet concern. “Is there anything that I can help you with, Laura Jo? Behind those beautiful green eyes I detect a look that’s more out of sorts than a bee in a poked hive.”
“It’s that easy to tell, huh?”
“It’s part of a bishop’s calling to be able to sense those kinds of things.”
Laura Jo’s bottled-up emotions started to seep out of her eyes. She brushed at her tears and found a release in the bishop’s listening ear.
Late afternoon shadows were creeping out from behind the buttes when Bishop Cole pulled a pocket watch from his vest and checked the time.
“I’m sorry, Bishop Cole,” Laura Jo apologized. “I’ve taken too much of your time.”
“Not any more than I’ve taken of yours.” he reassured her. “I was just wondering if school is out yet—we don’t want your folks worrying about you.”
“It only takes me a half hour to walk home from school, bishop.” She stood up and brushed herself off. “It’s not any farther from here if I take that path over there.”
Bishop Cole stood up too. “Why don’t I take it with you, young lady? I’ll walk you home.”
“I’d like that.” Laura Jo beamed, then hesitated. “But you didn’t even get to fish yet.”
“One doesn’t always have to aim for rainbow trout to have fished. It just so happens that today I went fishing for the whys of a certain young lady’s fretting.” He pointed toward the little red-rock path skirted with spatterings of sego lilies as he added, “And I didn’t do too badly. Between here and your place, I’d like to talk to you about them and about a few of my feelings.” He removed two large sandwiches from his creel. “And maybe you can help me eat all this food my wife packed for me. There’s enough in just one of these sandwiches to last until the Lord’s second coming!”
Laura Jo smiled inside as well as out. Someone was sharing a lunch with her, after all. And not just anyone. Bishop Cole.
That night when Laura Jo brushed her hair before the small wall mirror in her attic bedroom, she smiled at the golden-haired girl looking back. She couldn’t remember everything that the bishop had told her on the walk back to her house that day. What she remembered most—besides the fact that a person is different only to the extent that she is herself and not anybody else, and that real beauty lies in one’s heart and soul—was that Bishop Cole was her friend. And she was his. He had taken time for her. She mattered. She was, he had said, “a precious soul in his eyes, in the eyes of her family, in the eyes of a lot of other fine people—and,” Bishop Cole had then testified, “in the eyes of Heavenly Father.”

A scripture that really helped me when I was young is Joshua 1:6–9. It says, in part: “Be strong and of a good courage. … Observe to do according to all the law. … Turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper.”
As a young man, I thought, “Once I receive an assignment from the Lord, I will not turn to the right or to the left.” I had some good experiences as a result. For instance, one day while I was in business training, I had to go to a Church meeting, but I had a work responsibility related to the mail. Normally this responsibility would take me and the other trainees as much as an extra hour after our regular work hours. But I had to go to Hamburg on the 5:30 p.m. train to get to my Church meeting. I told the others of my dilemma, and they said to me, “Good luck. It is not going to happen.”
I said, “Sure it will, because this is an important meeting.” They shrugged their shoulders and said sarcastically, “Yeah sure—you and your faith. You think just because you are religious that everything is going to work out. That means that we would have to finish the mail by 10 minutes to 5:00. It has never happened.” I said, “Well, whatever happens will happen. But I need to be in Hamburg on time tonight.”
Now, believe it or not, for the first and only time in three years, everything was finished that day at 10 minutes to 5:00, and I made it to the train on time. This impressed my fellow trainees and opened the door for me to have some gospel conversations with them.

When I was four years old, I found out that I had to get my frenulum (a part of the tongue that connects it to the mouth) clipped. I was really scared the day of my operation. I said a prayer to Heavenly Father that everything would be all right. At the hospital, the doctor gave me some medicine, and I went to sleep. When I woke up, the next thing I knew I was in my mom’s arms, and I didn’t cry. I believe that Heavenly Father helped me through the operation without feeling pain.

On February 4 of 1990, our third son and sixth child was born. We named him Tyson. He was a beautiful little boy, and the family greeted him with open hearts and open arms. His brothers and sisters were so proud of him. We all thought he was the most perfect little boy who had ever been born.
When Tyson was eight months old, he aspirated a piece of chalk that he had found on the carpet. The chalk lodged in Tyson’s throat, and he quit breathing. His older brother brought Tyson upstairs, frantically calling, “The baby won’t breathe. The baby won’t breathe.” We began to administer CPR and called 911.
The paramedics arrived and rushed Tyson to the hospital. In the waiting room we continued in fervent prayer as we pled to God for a miracle. After what seemed a lifetime, the doctor came into the room and said, “I am so sorry. There is nothing more we can do. Take all the time you need.” She then left.
As we entered the room where Tyson lay, we saw our lifeless little bundle of joy. It seemed as though he had a celestial glow around his little body. He was so radiant and pure.
At that moment it felt as if our world had come to an end. How could we return to the other children and somehow try to explain that Tyson wasn’t coming home?
I will speak in the singular as I relate the rest of this experience. My angel wife and I experienced this trial together, but I am inadequate in expressing the feelings of a mother and would not even try to do so.
It is impossible to describe the mixture of feelings that I had at that point in my life. Most of the time I felt as if I were in a bad dream and that I would soon wake up and this terrible nightmare would be over. For many nights I didn’t sleep. I often wandered in the night from one room to the other, making sure that our other children were all safe.
Feelings of guilt racked my soul. I felt so guilty. I felt dirty. I was his father; I should have done more to protect him. If only I would have done this or that. Sometimes even today, 22 years later, those feelings begin to creep into my heart, and I need to get rid of them quickly because they can be destructive.
About a month after Tyson died, I had an interview with Elder Dean L. Larsen. He took the time to listen to me, and I will always be grateful for his counsel and love. He said, “I don’t think the Lord would want you to punish yourself for the death of your little boy.” I felt the love of my Heavenly Father through one of his chosen vessels.
However, tormenting thoughts continued to plague me, and I soon began to feel anger. “This isn’t fair! How could God do this to me? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” I even felt myself get angry with people who were just trying to comfort us. I remember friends saying, “I know how you feel.” I would think to myself, “You have no idea how I feel. Just leave me alone.” I soon found that self-pity can also be very debilitating. I was ashamed of myself for having unkind thoughts about dear friends who were only trying to help.
As I felt the guilt, anger, and self-pity trying to consume me, I prayed that my heart could change. Through very personal sacred experiences, the Lord gave me a new heart, and even though it was still lonely and painful, my whole outlook changed. I was given to know that I had not been robbed but rather that there was a great blessing awaiting me if I would prove faithful.
My life started to change, and I was able to look forward with hope, rather than look backward with despair. I testify that this life is not the end. The spirit world is real. The teachings of the prophets regarding life after death are true. This life is but a transitory step forward on our journey back to our Heavenly Father.
Tyson has remained a very integral part of our family. Through the years it has been wonderful to see the mercy and kindness of a loving Father in Heaven, who has allowed our family to feel in very tangible ways the influence of Tyson. I testify that the veil is thin. The same feelings of loyalty, love, and family unity don’t end as our loved ones pass to the other side; instead, those feelings are intensified.
Sometimes people will ask, “How long did it take you to get over it?” The truth is, you will never completely get over it until you are together once again with your departed loved ones. I will never have a fulness of joy until we are reunited in the morning of the First Resurrection.

About a year ago, I had a letter from a woman who related this story. She said that she had married a man who was not a member of the Church. Together, they had had five children, and they had had a good life. But recently, their oldest daughter had come to them and said she was in love with a member of a polygamist family and she wanted to marry him. As a result, she was going to pull away from her own family and her religion. This mother was devastated. She said, "I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to handle this." It was her stake temple day that week and so she decided to go and spend the entire day in the temple. She started in the baptistery that morning. She said,
"I just began with a prayer in my heart and felt somehow the Lord would be mindful of my need and help me with this terrible problem."
Early in the day, a thought came into her mind, and she heard herself say these words to her daughter, "It will be very sad for us when someday we go to the temple as a family, and you are not with us." But she immediately brushed it aside, thinking, "There is no way I can make such a promise. My husband is not even a member of the Church." She spent the day doing some endowment sessions, and that thought continued to come to her. But each time this thought came, she discounted it. Late in the day, while participating in an ordinance, she said,
"I was just overcome with this sweet sense of gratitude. I knew that the Lord knew that we were having a problem. I didn't know what to do, but I knew the Lord knew, and He would help me."
And so it was in the ensuing weeks she had an opportunity to visit with her daughter. She said,
"In the course of the conversation, I heard myself saying the very words that had come to me that day in the temple. 'It will be very sad for us when we go to be sealed as a family, and you are not with us.'"
The remarkable thing is, the daughter responded. She found the courage to break up the relationship. And she is now engaged to a young Latter-Day Saint man, and they are now planning a temple marriage. She then added this postscript:
Last week, after nearly a year of learning the gospel through the love and patience of eight dedicated sister missionaries, my husband has finally arrived at a baptismal date.
This is a woman who paid attention to the thoughts that came into her mind and the feelings that came into her heart that day when she was in the temple. She then took those feelings and thoughts into her home, and she saved a daughter.

My father, not a member of the Church, was actively involved in local business and community affairs. His motto was “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” As my siblings and I discovered the gospel and lived it to the best of our abilities, he noticed the changes for good in our lives. In 2000, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) stayed in my father’s home on his return from the dedication of the Suva Fiji Temple. During that visit, the Spirit touched my father’s heart, and I was privileged to baptize him when he was 82 years old. He found great joy in the gospel and was unashamed and bold in sharing it with others during the last days of his life.

When President J. Reuben Clark Jr. counseled those called to positions of authority in the Church, he would tell them not to forget rule number six.
Inevitably, the person would ask, “What is rule number six?”
“Don’t take yourself too darn seriously,” he would say.
Of course, this led to a follow-up question: “What are the other five rules?”
With a twinkle in his eye, President Clark would say, “There aren’t any.”

Eiko sat between her father and mother as the high-speed train whipped them toward her grandparents’ home on the other side of Tokyo, Japan. Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap, and her feet barely touched the floor. She was too nervous to talk as the train rushed them forward.
A year ago, a visit to her grandparents’ apartment was not a big deal, but things were different now. Ever since she and her parents were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints last year, Eiko’s grandfather had refused to speak to her father and mother. The day that Father told him about their baptisms, Grandfather became so angry that he said Father was no longer his son.
Eiko didn’t like to think about that horrible day, but as they sped past bustling train stations and over city streets, she couldn’t stop remembering it. …
Even though it had rained that morning, Eiko had looked forward to a wonderful day with her grandparents! They were coming for dinner, and her parents were going to tell them all about Jesus Christ and about the prophet in America. She was so happy that she hummed “Love One Another” as she put her toys away.
Her parents were also busy tidying up their small apartment, fussing as though the emperor was coming. They both smiled nervously when Eiko said that she had a Book of Mormon to give to her grandparents. Father told her that he needed to speak privately with Grandfather about the Church first. Maybe later she could give him a Book of Mormon. Eiko was puzzled, but she promised to do as she was told. Secretly she wondered if she could keep from bursting out the news the moment her grandparents walked through the door! At her new church, she had met so many wonderful people and learned so many things! She wanted to share every bit of it with her grandparents.
When they arrived, Eiko bounced impatiently as they slipped out of their shoes. Everyone chuckled at her, but her parents’ laughter sounded different—agitated—like the sound the dishwasher made when it was broken.
As Grandfather turned from the door, he gazed into the corner—at an empty, white wall. His smile vanished. “Where’s the kamidana?” (A kamidana, or “god-shelf,” is a small shelf where photographs of family members who have died are kept. Traditional Japanese, like Eiko’s grandfather, honor their ancestors by praying to them in front of the kamidana.)
Father stepped forward, his hands behind his back. “I have removed it,” he said softly.
“Removed it?” Grandfather repeated. “Why?” His words were sharp, like nails, and they pierced Eiko’s heart.
Father nodded to Mother, who hurried Eiko from the room. In the kitchen, she gave her daughter a bag of vegetables. “Slice these for dinner,” she said.
Suddenly Eiko’s stomach hurt. She wasn’t interested in dinner, but she began slicing a carrot. Grandmother came into the kitchen and joined in the work, a stiff smile on her face.
Through the thin walls of their apartment, Eiko listened as Father explained to Grandfather that they had been baptized. Father’s voice was nervous but firm as he said that in this home, only prayers to Heavenly Father would be said, not prayers to their ancestors.
Eiko waited for Grandfather to say something, anything, but everything remained quiet. Very quiet. Mother and Grandmother stopped working. Mother’s face was tense; Grandmother’s eyes were wide with astonishment.
Suddenly Grandfather’s voice boomed out! He accused Father of shaming their ancestors by removing the kamidana. Father’s voice cracked as he apologized for any pain he was causing Grandfather but repeated that in this home, only prayers to Heavenly Father would be offered.
Mother moved into the room, and Grandmother raised a towel to her face to catch her tears. Eiko didn’t know what to do or where to look, so she sliced another carrot and watched her hands work.
Grandfather bellowed for Grandmother, who scurried from the kitchen and past Mother. Eiko’s parents bowed as her grandparents disappeared down the staircase. She hurried to the rain-splattered window and pressed her nose against it. Soon she saw them moving rapidly through the rain.
That was the last time Eiko had seen them.
Father assured her that her grandparents still loved her. He explained that they were terribly offended that the kamidana was gone. Eiko said that she understood, but she didn’t. All she understood was that she missed her grandparents terribly.
She prayed every day that her grandparents would call on the telephone.
But days passed, then weeks, even months, and still no call came. Eiko knew that her parents had tried many times to telephone them, but without success.
Almost every night, Eiko lay awake on her futon (a traditional Japanese bed that is unrolled on the floor at night), hoping and praying that things would change. Then an idea came to her mind. The next afternoon, she said to Mother, “May I call Grandfather?”
Mother hesitated. “Eiko,” she said softly, “Grandfather may not wish to speak with you. He’s very upset that we have become Latter-day Saints.”
Eiko nodded. “But I miss him very much.”
“I miss him too.” Mother gazed into Eiko’s eyes and warned, “You must understand that Grandfather is ashamed of our commitment to the Lord.”
“But I am not ashamed.”
Mother smiled. “You may call. Perhaps he will speak to you.”
There was an awkward silence when Grandfather heard Eiko’s tiny voice on the phone. Then his soothing voice poured into her ear. “Eiko.”
Warmth swept through Eiko, and soon she was chattering about her school friends. Grandfather laughed and asked many questions. Maybe Grandfather still wouldn’t speak with her parents, but he was talking to Eiko!
Although they had many conversations over the next several days, Eiko was afraid to mention her new faith. Then one day Grandfather asked, “Eiko, what do you think of your parents’ new religion?”
Her stomach somersaulted. Although she had imagined what she’d tell Grandfather about the Church, Eiko felt afraid she’d say something wrong. Praying silently, she answered, “It is my religion too. I was baptized because I’ve prayed to Heavenly Father. I know He is real.”
Grandfather grunted. “Your religion is for Americans, not Japanese.”
“Jesus is everyone’s Savior,” Eiko stated bravely. “Americans, Japanese, Chinese, French—everyone!” She swallowed. “Even you.”
Grandfather said Grandmother was calling him so he had to hang up. Eiko didn’t believe him. She ached inside, thinking she had hurt his feelings again.
How surprised she was when Grandfather called her the next day! This time, he asked many questions: Why did she read the Bible? What is the Book of Mormon? What does an answer to prayer feel like? What happens at church?
Eiko answered his questions. She told him about Primary, then about Joseph Smith and the American pioneers. She told him that she and her parents would soon be sealed for eternity in the Tokyo Temple.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that our family, including our ancestors, can live together forever in heaven.” Eiko’s voice stopped. She took a deep breath, then rushed on, “Grandfather, just because we don’t have a kamidana anymore doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten our ancestors. We want to be sealed to them forever. We love all our family very much.”
Grandfather cleared his throat, then was quiet.
In the silence, Eiko worried that she’d said too much. When Grandfather finally spoke, he asked her to put her father on the line.
Eiko’s heart nearly stopped. Had her words gotten them all in terrible trouble again with Grandfather?
When Father hung up, he shook his head, then turned to Eiko. “I don’t know what you said to him, Eiko, but Grandfather has invited us to visit next week!”
As Eiko was remembering that phone call, the train halted. She followed her parents into the maze of city streets. The traffic was loud, but it was not loud enough to drown out her worries.
Those worries were still with Eiko as she climbed the stairs to her grandparents’ apartment. When they reached the door, Eiko’s father took her hand and said, “I’m very grateful for all you have done to make this happen.” Then he pushed the doorbell. Eiko heard feet shuffling behind the door before it opened. Grandfather stood stiffly before them, his chin thrust high as he looked down upon Eiko with his dark eyes. Eiko bowed low before him. She was afraid to rise.
Instead, she peeked up from her bow—and saw her grandfather bending at the waist. He bowed low before her, lower than she had ever seen him bow. As they rose together, she saw that his eyes were damp. He whispered to her, “I am sorry. You have reminded me that there are many ways to honor our family.”
Eiko beamed as she searched Grandfather’s dark eyes. She saw something deep and solid and good, and she knew that no matter what, even if they believed differently, they were a family, first and foremost—a family once again filled with love.

In the faraway islands of the Pacific, hundreds who were near-blind now see because a missionary said to his physician brother-in-law, “Leave your wealthy clientele and the comforts of your palatial home and come to these special children of God who need your skills and need them now.” The ophthalmologist responded without a backward glance. He has commented quietly that this visit was the best service he ever rendered and the peace which came to his heart the greatest blessing of his life.

In 1978, following the priesthood revelation, I was called by President James E. Faust, then president of the Church’s International Mission, to accompany Elder Ted Cannon on a fact-finding mission through West Africa. Although numerous groups of people in Ghana and Nigeria expressed interest in the Church at the time, total membership was less than one hundred. West African membership today totals more than 70,000, and stakes exist throughout the region.

May I illustrate with two examples.

Four weeks prior to Elder Cannon’s and my trip to West Africa in July 1978, fifty letters were sent to members and nonmembers in the various countries apprising them of our visit and asking them to meet us at the airport upon arrival. During a four-week period we visited eight cities in four countries. With the exception of one city, no one received a letter in time to meet us. Toward the end of the trip, we arrived in Calabar, Nigeria, on a Friday afternoon, needing the services of a previously identified member to help us find approximately fifteen congregations in the southeastern part of the country. Each congregation had adopted the name of our Church, and the leaders had written asking for information and missionaries.

The member, Ime Eduok, was not at the airport or at the hotel. Brother Cannon and I checked in and went to our room not knowing where or how to find Brother Eduok in a city of one million. The next two days were a critical part of the trip, and Brother Eduok was the only one who could help us. We knelt in prayer and asked the Lord to guide us to him. We returned to the lobby and asked the desk clerk if she knew Mr. Eduok. She did not. Within a few minutes a large number of Nigerians had gathered around us discussing our plight but lacking the information needed. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see a large man standing next to me who said: “Did I hear you say Ime Eduok? He is my employee. I just entered the hotel to buy a newspaper on my way home from work. Ime will be leaving the firm in fifteen minutes. I do not know where he lives. If he leaves the office before you arrive, it is unlikely that you will find him before Monday.” The man hurriedly put us in a taxi and gave the driver directions. We arrived at the business just as Ime Eduok was locking the door. Brother Eduok guided us to each congregation during the Saturday and Sunday that followed. Many people in those congregations are now members of the Church, and information gleaned from them formed an important part of the report given to the First Presidency upon our return.