Gospel Story Finder

When I was about 16, we had an activity about being a full-time missionary. We divided into pairs and lived like missionaries for a week. That was the first time I learned how important it is to share our testimonies with others. This activity helped me realize not only how hard it is to serve the Lord, but also the joy we feel by sharing the gospel and seeing how Christ’s teachings change someone’s life. It helped me understand what it is like to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9).

When called upon to sustain someone who appears to be less qualified than ourselves, there may sometimes be an inclination to follow the course of Oliver Cowdery in eventually looking down upon a leader less educated than we are.

In October 1834 Oliver eloquently recounted the great spiritual experience he had while serving as Joseph’s scribe:

These were days never to be forgotten—to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom! Day after day I continued, uninterrupted, to write from his mouth, as he translated with the Urim and Thummim . . . the history, or record, called “The book of Mormon.” [Messenger and Advocate 1:14; emphasis in original]

Oliver then referred to the ecstatic joy that filled their hearts as the resurrected John the Baptist conferred the Aaronic Priesthood upon Joseph and himself (ibid., pp. 15–16).

Joseph’s confidence in and reliance upon Oliver is reflected by the fact that in February 1835, the Prophet invited Oliver to give the newly called Council of the Twelve their apostolic charge. Among other excellent counsel, Oliver admonished them to “cultivate great humility; for I know the pride of the human heart” (HC 2:195).

In April 1836 Oliver was in the Kirtland Temple with the Prophet when they “saw the Lord standing upon the breastwork of the pulpit” (D&C 110:1). Moses, Elias, and Elijah subsequently restored priesthood keys to them. But not long after, Oliver committed some serious transgressions and lost the Spirit of the Lord. He failed to attend to the responsibilities of his calling and began persecuting the Brethren and defaming the character of the Prophet Joseph (see HC 3:16–17).

In April 1838 Oliver was invited to appear before a disciplinary council to be tried for his membership in the Church. Among the charges was the allegation that he had persecuted the Brethren through urging lawsuits against them. It was also alleged that he had defamed the character of the Prophet and that he had treated “the Church with contempt by not attending meetings.” It was further alleged that he had forsaken his calling “appointed him by revelation, for the sake of filthy lucre, and turning to the practice of law” (HC 3:16–17).

Oliver refused to attend the disciplinary council and to face his brethren, but he did send a letter to Bishop Edward Partridge in response to the charges made against him. Note the change in this man who, in humbler days, had enthusiastically served as the Prophet’s scribe. Note the justification of his behavior and his arrogant attitude as he wrote the following:

My venerable ancestor was among the little band, who landed on the rocks of Plymouth in 1620—with him he brought those maxims, and a body of those laws which were the result and experience of many centuries, on the basis of which now stands our great and happy government; and they are so interwoven in my nature, have so long been inculcated into my mind by a liberal and intelligent ancestry that I am wholly unwilling to exchange them for anything less liberal, less benevolent, or less free. . . .
This attempt to control me in my temporal interests, I conceive to be a disposition to take from me a portion of my Constitutional privileges and inherent right—I only, respectfully, ask leave, therefore, to withdraw from a society assuming they have such right. [HC 3:18]

Oliver had been a man of great native intellect, of eloquent speech, of unflinching loyalty to the Prophet as he served as second elder of the Church and later as assistant president of the Church. And now he had thrown it all away because he refused to accept the counsel of others.

When the Manti Utah Temple was under construction some 120 years ago, George Paxman worked as a finish carpenter. He and his young wife, Martha, had one child and were expecting another.
While hanging one of the heavy east doors of the temple, George suffered a strangulated hernia. He was in terrible pain. Martha laid him in a wagon and took him to the town of Nephi, where she put him on the train and took him to Provo. There he died. Spurning marriage, she remained a widow for 62 years, supporting herself with needlework.
Now permit me to diverge from this narrative to say that when I was engaged to marry my wife, I gave her a ring. When we were married, I gave her a wedding band. She wore them for years. Then one day I noticed that she had taken them off and was wearing this little gold wedding band. It had belonged to her grandmother. The ring had been given her by her husband, George. The ring was the only thing he left in this life. One day in the spring, Martha was housecleaning. She brought all of the furnishings out to give the house a thorough cleaning. Upon shaking the straw from the mattress, she looked down, and the ring was gone. She looked everywhere most carefully. It was the only physical remembrance of her beloved husband. She raked through the straw with her fingers but could not find the ring. Tears fell from her eyes. She went to her knees and prayed that the Lord would help her to find the ring. When she opened her eyes, she looked down and there it was.
Now I hold it in my hand. It is too small for all of you to see. It is 18-karat gold, old and scarred and bent. But it represents faith, the faith of a widow who pleaded with the Lord in her extremity. Such faith is the wellspring of activity. It is the root of hope and trust. It is this simple faith that all of us so much need.

I was visiting a friend on the west side a few weeks ago. We had plans to swim with dolphins, as we both loved water photography. I had visions in my mind of the bright sun and crystal clear blue water with hundreds of dolphins swimming around me. I was imagining the perfect shot of a dolphin spinning out of the water and a baby dolphin close behind with the sun raging in the right of the picture, and a perfect rainbow to top it off. I was stoked. I woke up early, traveled out there for this perfect moment, looked for the dolphin boats as they were an indication of where we needed to be. But there were none, and it was overcast and raining.

My friend Alika, in his humble pigeon accent, said, “Braddah Marc, why are you bummed? If you only look for the perfect moments in life, you have lost your passion for the ocean. Have faith. Mother Nature always provides, even in bad conditions.”

He was right. We got in the water and, even though I didn't see what I wanted, we were still blessed with beautiful water, fish, honu and a shark. It was a great day. As we were leaving and dropping my friend home, he said, “Marc, thank you for adding value to my life.”

This statement has had a profound impact on me; it was so deep. How is it that I added value to his life? I was the negative one and he was the one who I felt added so much value to my life with what he had been teaching me, with his example of faith and a positive attitude.

Our living prophet, President Harold B. Lee, made a significant statement on this subject and clearly illustrated the correct philosophy of a servant of the Lord. He did so shortly after he was ordained to the office.
The new First Presidency held a news conference in the administration building with many members of the press in attendance. One reporter asked President Lee if he would mind explaining what his goals were. He asked:
“What do you expect to accomplish during your administration as president of the Church?”
President Lee answered in his most characteristic way, substantially as follows:
“Well,” he said, “I can only answer that question in the words of a great prophet when he was given an assignment by the Lord to secure an ancient record. He said:
“‘And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do.’” (1 Ne. 4:6.)
Being led by the Spirit is vitally important because this is the Lord’s church and he runs it. Those who are called to serve must let the Lord run his church. They must be led by his Spirit because man’s thoughts are not God’s thoughts and man’s ways are not God’s ways; therefore, for man to do God’s work he must have the Spirit of the Lord or he won’t know what to do or how to perform.
To continue with the revelation, now that the Lord has established the necessity for the Spirit, he proceeds to explain how to get the Spirit. The formula is apparently so simple:
“And the Spirit shall be given unto you by the prayer of faith; and if ye receive not the Spirit ye shall not teach.” (D&C 42:14.)
On the surface it appears that all that is necessary to receive the Spirit is to ask for it, but it is not quite so easy a question! What is the difference between just ordinary prayer and a “prayer of faith”?
As we consider that question, the difference is immediately apparent. The difference is faith, and what is faith? Of course, there are many definitions of faith, but one definition is “a strong belief plus action.” It is not perfect knowledge (as Alma explains in Alma 32), but real faith lets a man act as if he knows it is true when he really doesn’t.
Therefore, faith in a real sense is power—power to act and perform without actual knowledge. The Lord’s formula for receiving the Spirit, then, is to get on our knees and communicate with him. Tell him what we are going to do—make commitments with him—outline our program—and then get up off our knees and go and do precisely what we have told him we would do. In the doing, the Spirit comes.
From the record, it is obvious that most home teachers do not really enjoy home teaching. I have been a home teacher for 21 years. I don’t think I have missed a half dozen visits over the whole period. I cannot say that I love to home teach until I get to the first home, and then I do love it because I then get the spirit of a home teacher because I am acting like a home teacher—doing what a home teacher does.
In order for a bishop to get the spirit of a bishop, he must first be called, ordained, and set apart, and that is in accord with the revelation we have just read. Does that give him the spirit of a bishop? Wouldn’t it be grand if it did? But of course it doesn’t. In order to get the spirit of a bishop, he must get on his knees and communicate with the Lord and then get up off his knees and go and do precisely what he has told the Lord he would do. Then he gets the spirit of a bishop as he acts like a bishop, and he is able to act for the Lord and do what the Lord would do if the Lord was the bishop.
Suppose he gets up off his knees after telling the Lord he is going to conduct a priesthood executive committee meeting, and instead of conducting the committee meeting he goes fishing. Do you suppose he will get the spirit of a bishop? No, probably not, but rather he will likely get the spirit of a fisherman instead. And while the spirit of a fisherman is not altogether bad, it is not the spirit that he needs to conduct a priesthood executive committee meeting. If a man never acts like a bishop, even though he is called, ordained, and set apart so to be, he will never get the spirit of a bishop.
If a missionary never acts like a missionary, even though he is called and set apart so to be, he will never get the spirit of a missionary and thus will never really be a missionary, because without the Spirit he shall not teach, and a missionary that cannot teach is not a missionary. Likewise, a stake president who cannot teach is not a stake president. A home teacher who cannot teach is not a home teacher. An MIA president who cannot teach is not an MIA president.
Is it any wonder that the Lord commands:
“Wherefore, now let every man learn his duty, and to act in the office in which he is appointed, in all diligence.” (D&C 107:99.) Surely in the action, the Spirit comes as the Lord has promised.
There is one additional qualification that must be acquired in order to have success in the Lord’s work. We must love the people we are called to serve. Without this, all else is vain, because they will not accept our offering to them unless they know we love them.
In “The Vision of Sir Launfal,” an interesting story is told of a young knight who rode out into the world in search of the Holy Grail (the cup which the Master supposedly drank from at the Last Supper). He had dedicated his life to the quest. He was young, handsome, and strong, clothed in bright and shining armor, mounted on a gallant white charger. As he crossed the drawbridge riding out into the world, a beggar (who was a leper) put up his hand to him, begging alms. The young knight reached into his pouch, took out a gold coin and flung it to the beggar as he rode on, but he really did not give the beggar very much because no one would accept even a gold coin from a leper.
The young man searched for the cup; of course he didn’t find it, although he spent his life in the quest. He did, however, learn a lot, and at the close of his life he was returning to his castle, no longer young. He is now shrunken with age. His armor is no longer bright; his mount is no longer a charger but just a tired old gray horse. As he was about to cross the drawbridge into the castle, once again a beggar put up his hand begging for alms. This time Sir Launfal stopped, got down from his horse, reached into his knapsack and took out the only thing he had—a crust of bread. He then dipped his cup into the stream and gave the crust of bread and one cup of cold water to the beggar.
The wooden cup from which the beggar drank turned into the Holy Grail for which he had searched, and the beggar turned into a Christ and said a very interesting thing. He said:
“Not what we give, but what we share.
For the gift without the giver is bare;
Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,
Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.”
(“The Vision of Sir Launfal,” James R. Lowell.)
I long ago learned what all real missionaries must learn: “People do not really care how much you know until they know how much you care.” If you love them, they will listen to you; they will let you serve them.
Because the Lord Jesus Christ loved us, he died for us, and we accept his sacrifice in our behalf as the only way back to our Heavenly Father. May we be qualified to bear his name and may we have his spirit as we act in the office in which we are appointed in all diligence, but with love. I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, the Redeemer. Amen.

When I was around 10 years old, my mum was serving as a youth teacher in Oakland California Stake’s Oakland 8th Ward. One weekday evening, we were at our chapel for ward activities. Our Primary activity finished early, so I hung out in the recreation hall with my cousins and friends while I waited for mum, who was helping to run youth night.
We played tag and hide-and-seek, but there were so many of us kids, the hall was crowded. Some of the older kids wanted to go play outside because there was a lot more space out there, and also because outside was darker than in the hall (it was after 7:00 pm by now).
I wasn’t so sure about following them. I asked if we could keep playing inside, but my friends just said, “[We’ll] be fine outside. There’s a lot of us. It’s going to be okay.” Still, I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I decided to ask my mum for permission to play outside.
“No,” was mum’s reply. Even though I was uncomfortable about following my friends, I was still disappointed not to be allowed outside. We’d been having so much fun together. “Why can’t I go?” I asked. Mum’s only reasoning was that she didn’t want me playing in the dark where she couldn’t see me.
When I reluctantly told my friends to go ahead without me, it felt right. It was like the Spirit was confirming my mum’s warning, but that moment was immediately followed by one of weakness. It was hard watching my friends file out the hall door without me, so I jumped to my feet and ran with them, determined to disobey my mum.
Just as I reached the outside door of the chapel, I felt as if a hand was holding me back. I stopped and turned around, but no one was there to have held my hand. Stunned, I let the rest of my friends leave the chapel without me, and then I went back and sat by myself outside the classroom my mum was in.
In the 10 or 15 minutes that I waited for youth night to wrap up, I reviewed in my mind what had just happened. I was still upset that I wasn’t outside playing with my friends, but I kept thinking about the uneasy feeling I’d had since it was first suggested we leave the chapel, about my mom’s instruction for me to stay inside, and, of course, about the hand that held me back.
I remembered the brief sense of peace I’d felt when I first decided to obey my mum, and I realized that as I waited for her, I could feel the Spirit again, letting me know that I’d—again—made the right choice.
To this day, I have no idea why it was so important for me to stay in the chapel that night, and it doesn’t matter. I am just grateful for the Holy Spirit who guides and comforts us, even when we don’t understand, and I’m grateful that through my obedience, the Spirit allowed us to have a nice drive home after ward activities, without a lecture from my mum.

Thank you for Elder Richard G. Scott’s article, “Do What Is Right,” in the March 2001 issue of the Liahona (Spanish). When I learned that my daughter and a young man were falling in love at a very early age, I became angry and said some things that were unfair. But that night I prayed for a way to help these young people. The next day I read the article and found the answer.
I talked with my daughter, and we both cried together when I shared some paragraphs in the article. Then I talked with the young man, read him the paragraphs, and asked him to forgive me. He had also read the Liahona, and he understood that this advice wasn’t just my opinion. An Apostle had given this counsel. This experience united the three of us. I don’t know what I would have done without Elder Scott’s advice.Rosario Colmenares,Chorrillos Ward, Lima Perú Chorrillos Stake

I had a friend in the fourth grade named Victor. I’d sometimes spend the night at his house, but it was different than at other friend’s homes. Victor had not only learned to love himself, but he had learned to love others.
I remember one time when we were at both ends of a flight of stairs in his house playing catch with a soft ball. He was at the top, and I was at the bottom. I would have to tell him when I was going to throw the ball to him and where it was going. My friend Victor was blind.
We played for quite some time, laughing and having a lot of fun. The ball would hit him in the head or the shoulder, and we’d laugh and laugh. Once I said, “Okay, it’s coming right now.” Both his hands flew out just at the right time, and he caught the ball. We were both so excited, we just couldn’t believe it.
Time went by, and for a while we had a lot of our classes together. But they became fewer. By the time we reached junior high school, I didn’t see him very much because he was in special classes.
Then student body elections came up, and Victor wanted to run for president. The day came when everyone who was trying for an office gave speeches. It was finally Victor’s turn. This was his chance, and I hoped so much he would make it. A woman whispered something in his ear. Was it a vote of confidence or directions on how to get to the podium?
Victor finished his speech and walked back to his chair. The crowd cheered for him so loudly it nearly knocked him over. He didn’t promise world peace or anything. He just spoke with great confidence. A few days later, the election results were announced. Victor had won! I was so happy I cried for him.
Sometimes I would go home at night and ask Heavenly Father if he would let Victor have my eyes, if only for one day, just so my great friend, our president, could walk down the halls at school without getting smashed into and knocked around. But I guess Heavenly Father knew Victor was doing all right because Victor never once let his blindness stop him.
As a member of the Church, I have sometimes let the things I can see get in the way. I’ve let them stop me from doing what I should do. Victor taught me this great principle: It’s not the things you look at in life—it’s your attitude, or how you look at them, that counts. I was so blind that Heavenly Father had a blind friend teach me to see.

Michael Weir said:
“My marriage had failed. I was living a life contrary to the principles of the Church. Not only was I inactive but had lost confidence in my ability to go back. I became successful in business, drove the nicest car, and bought expensive clothes. I had everything that the world would want.
“One day, my company hired Ken Wheeler, whom I knew to be a Mormon by the way he acted. We became friends, and he invited me to Church. I wanted to go but didn’t feel worthy. He continued to invite me, and I continued to refuse. I wanted to get back, but I didn’t have the strength to do it.
“One night, alone in my apartment, I became very depressed and broke into uncontrollable sobs. I prayed to the Lord and begged for His help. The next day Ken asked me how I was doing; he could sense something was wrong. Putting his arms around me, he said, ‘He still loves you, and we do, too. Why don’t you come back home?’ That was the answer to my prayers; that was the help I had begged for the night before.
“I came home! I felt uncomfortable at first, but the feeling that everyone cared made it easier. Today, I don’t drive the nicest car or wear the fanciest clothes, but I feel richer than ever.”
He continued, “Those who have fallen away want so badly to come back, but they are afraid to make the move. They don’t lose their testimony; they lose confidence in themselves.”

President Wilford Woodruff gave this report in general conference in 1896.

Joseph Smith continued visiting myself and others up to a certain time, and then it stopped. The last time I saw him was in heaven. In the night vision I saw him at the door of the temple in heaven. He came to me and spoke to me. He said he could not stop to talk with me because he was in a hurry. The next man I met was Father Smith; he could not talk with me because he was in a hurry. I met half a dozen brethren who had held high positions on earth, and none of them could stop to talk with me because they were in a hurry. I was much astonished. By and by I saw the Prophet again and I got the privilege of asking him a question.

“Now,” said I, “I want to know why you are in a hurry? I have been in a hurry all my life; but I expected my hurry would be over when I got into the kingdom of heaven, if I ever did.”

Joseph said: “I will tell you, Brother Woodruff. Every dispensation that has had the priesthood on the earth and has gone into the celestial kingdom has had a certain amount of work to do to prepare to go to the earth with the Savior when he goes to reign on the earth. Each dispensation has had ample time to do this work. We have not. We are the last dispensation, and so much work has to be done, and we need to be in a hurry in order to accomplish it.”

Of course, that was satisfactory, but it was new doctrine to me.

Recently Sister Oswald and I decided to teach our five-year-old twin granddaughters how to jump the rope. Jumping the rope is a children’s game in which participants jump over a rope as it passes under their feet and then over their heads. After receiving some simple instructions, both girls tried but failed on several attempts.
Just as we were ready to give up, two older neighbor children walked by, and we enlisted their help. Both of the neighbor girls were experienced rope jumpers and were able to show our granddaughters how to jump the rope. As the neighbor girls jumped the rope, I noticed that they sang a song that helped them jump to the rhythm of the swinging rope.
Once our granddaughters understood the principles of rope jumping and were shown how to jump the rope, the rest of the lesson was easy. With a little practice, both of the twins were well on their way to mastering the fundamentals of rope jumping.
During the rope-jumping lesson, another granddaughter, only three years old, was sitting quietly on the lawn observing. When someone asked her if she wanted to try to jump the rope, she nodded, came forward, and stood next to the rope. As we turned the rope, to our great surprise she jumped just as she had seen her sisters do. She jumped once, then twice, and then again and again, repeating aloud the same song the older children had sung.
All three granddaughters had observed that there was an art to jumping the rope. It was a simple thing that all of them could do after learning a few basic principles and being shown how. So it is with gospel teaching. When we learn a few fundamental principles about teaching and are shown how to teach, all of us can do it.

Sister Johnson wasn’t the only one who used birds as a teaching tool. My mother was an outstanding woman, diligent in many ways. In particular, I remember her helping me earn my bird-watching merit badge.
I come from a family of eleven children. My mother must have gone to bed very tired each night. Nevertheless, she still got up early, woke me up, and drove me out into the countryside and pointed out the different birds to me. I will never forget that lesson of love.

Sometimes temptation to let down her standards can be almost overwhelming, especially when a cherished goal comes in sight. Like the time Jenny was invited to meet with well-known disk jockeys from a major radio station—on a Sunday.
She wanted so much to be there, supporting her hospital team and meeting influential people, possibly improving her career opportunities. Workmates kept pressuring her to go. But she refused, at the same time explaining her feelings for the Sabbath.
“I felt awful letting them down,” she says, “but I’d have felt even more awful letting myself and Heavenly Father down—and my workmates, too, because eventually they would have seen me as a bad example.”

Sister Hinckley’s maternal grandmother, Martha Elizabeth Evans, married George Paxman, the faithful son of a stake president. He knew carpentry, and they moved to Manti, Utah, where he worked on the temple there. They lived in a sod-roofed house and were happy companions sealed in the sacred covenants of the gospel.
Two months before their second child was born (Sister Hinckley’s mother), George Paxman was injured. He was setting in place the massive east doors of the temple. Perhaps one of the doors slipped a little and he strained to hold it in place.
Within the week he died an agonizing death as a result of internal injuries. Martha provided for her daughters by sewing for a living. She was a widow for sixty-two years, ever sweet, never losing faith. Her daughter’s daughter was to become the wife of an Apostle, a counselor to Presidents.

Tina and Troy are twins. Today they are watching general conference with Grandma. “I have a surprise for you,” Grandma says. She gives them crayons and notebooks. “When you hear a special word, draw it in your notebooks,” she says. So Tina and Troy listen. Troy draws a temple white and tall. Tina draws a heart full of love. They hear the prophet talk about Jesus, so they draw Jesus too! “You filled your notebooks with so many good words,” Grandma said. “I’m happy we could listen to general conference.”

Ten years ago this October, while speaking in the priesthood meeting of general conference, I shared the following experience. One day
my son Ben came to me and said, “Dad, we are going to hold our family reunion this summer at Flaming Gorge recreation area” (a distance of 220 miles east of Salt Lake City). “Why don’t you, myself, and any of the boys in our family that would like to leave a few days early, ride our bikes to Flaming Gorge, and meet the rest of the family there?”
I said, “That sounds great, but we only have one motorcycle!”
Ben said, “No, Dad, you [don’t understand.] I mean pedal bicycles.” I thought he was kidding. He said, “I will outline and prepare a training schedule for us. We’ll get up early Saturday mornings and for three hours we’ll go out and ride over the courses I will outline, so that when the time comes we will be prepared to go.”
I said, “Okay,” not really knowing what I was in for. I didn’t own a bicycle and knew I would have to use my daughter’s old, heavy, ten-speed bicycle with what seemed like bent wheels and a seat that was terribly hard. I also knew that getting up early on Saturday mornings was not one of my favorite things. But knowing that some of my sons wanted me to go with them, I said, “Okay.”
As the time for training and preparation came, I found all kinds of excuses [not to] go on the training rides. However, one Saturday I rode with them to the top of Parleys Canyon and back. It was hard, but I thought I would be okay. Little did I know!
The time for the trip came. I joined my boys the second day of the trip, as I had meetings the first day. The journey that second day took us from Heber City to Roosevelt (approximately one hundred miles).
As we checked into the motel that evening, I called my wife at home and told her I had never hurt so bad in my life. Every muscle, bone, and fiber in my body hurt from my head to my feet. I implored her, “When you come tomorrow with the rest of the family, please bring all the ointment and lotion you can find.”
She said, “Honey, you sound terrible.”
I told her, “I look and feel worse than I sound.”
The next day I hated to see the dawn come, knowing what it would be like to sit on that hard seat and pedal all day once again [in order] to reach our destination—especially the stretch from Vernal to Flaming Gorge, which would include approximately thirty-six-plus miles with grades up to 9 percent and ninety-degree-plus temperatures. Needless to say, for me the whole trip was a very trying and arduous task. But for my sons, who spent a lot of time waiting at the top of the hills for their slow, unprepared dad, it was exciting, fun, and rewarding.
That evening as we arrived at our destination, I came to an easy, yet profound recognition of how poorly prepared I was for what should have been a great experience with my sons, but was not because I did not take the time to properly prepare. I resolved that night that I would never again be that unprepared. I went home and bought bicycles for myself and my two youngest sons, and started training and preparing so that by the time the next summer came, my sons and I could ride our bikes to Lake Powell, a distance of three hundred miles, which we did. The next year we cycled to St. George, and every year thereafter, we rode our bikes to Lake Powell until our mission [assignment some years later].

When President Spencer W. Kimball was nine years old, his job on the family farm was milking from two to nine cows every day. Milking cows can become boring, so he thought of things to do while he milked that were interesting and good and fun. He practiced squirting a stream of milk into the mouths of the cats that gathered around at milking time. He memorized every word of the Articles of Faith and the Ten Commandments to the beat of milk squirts hitting the pail. He copied most of the songs in the hymnbook on sheets of paper and memorized them. On a one-legged stool, his head pressed against a cow’s side, he sang them to the cows.

President Kimball made his inner temple brighter and kept his spirit free by filling his mind with worthwhile things while he worked. Can you do the same?

Other Minnesota youth are busy setting a good example, too. Maggie Albaugh, a Laurel in the Anoka stake, stepped outside her comfort zone when she taught a girl in her class to pray. Katie was one of the more popular girls in her school, and Maggie didn’t know her very well. “She’d never prayed and was never into religion,” Maggie says.
The sudden death of one of their friends brought them, and their whole class, closer together. Katie stopped Maggie in the halls of their school, knowing of her LDS standards, to ask her questions about life and death. “The only advice I could give her was the simple advice to pray,” Maggie says. “I just felt that, as Mormon youth, prayer helps us through a lot of things and a lot of people don’t have the same understanding of prayer. It is a gift that was given to us to communicate with our Heavenly Father.”
So Katie prayed, and at a memorial service for their friend, she shared with her class the comfort she had received through prayer.

Jason lay by the hearth, doing his homework in the firelight. But he couldn’t concentrate. The image of Mr. Rayburn’s ranch kept coming back to him, and with it the sight of the beautiful little pony the rancher had for sale. Only eighteen dollars, that’s all it would cost! he thought. But it might as well be five hundred. Jason’s father had gone to fight in the Civil War, and had left his ten-year-old son as the man of the house.
More than anything he had ever wanted before, Jason wanted a pony. But how will I ever get eighteen dollars of my own? he asked himself. All the other boys rode to school on horses. But Jason had to be up before dawn to milk the cow, feed the chickens, and then walk the long distance to school. When he wasn’t at school, Jason was busy at home, helping his mother on their farm.
Jason’s mother listened sympathetically when he told her about Mr. Rayburn’s pony. But when the boy finished, she just looked at him with a sad kind of smile. “Oh, Jason,” she said, “the pony sounds wonderful. But I’m afraid we don’t have any money to spare. We’re having a hard time now and with a new baby coming …”
“I’d forgotten for a minute about the baby. I hope it’s a girl. I’d like to have a little sister,” said Jason with a smile. “And maybe if I work extra hard, there will be enough money for a cradle.”
His mother hugged him close. “With you here to help, we’ll do just fine, Jason,” she said.
Later that night Jason climbed the ladder up to the loft where he slept. But before sleep came he couldn’t help thinking about the pony.
The next morning on his way to school, Jason saw a notice in the window of the general store:
Boys needed afternoons or evenings at the planing mill—10¢ an hour.
Ten cents an hour is a lot of money, Jason thought. I hope I can get that job after school.
The hours seemed to drag by until school was over. When the bell rang, Jason raced to the mill, but his heart sank when he saw the long line of waiting boys. At last it was his turn to apply for a job.
“How old are you, boy?” asked the man.
“Ten years old, sir. But I’ll be eleven in March. And I’m a hard worker,” replied Jason.
“I don’t think you’re old enough for a job here, son. Why don’t you try us next year?”
Jason did not move. “Please, sir, now that my father is at war, I’m the only man in the house. And I’ll work hard.”
“Well, if your dad’s off fighting, I guess we can find a job for you,” the man said.
Jason could hardly wait to tell his mother about his new job. “I know you’ll make me proud of you,” she said. “And since you’re working on your own time between school and chores, son, you may keep the money you earn.”
Jason jumped up with delight and hugged her. His chores weren’t so hard that night. In his mind he could just see himself up on the back of that little pony. It won’t matter if I don’t have a saddle. I’ll still be able to ride like the other boys, and they won’t call me a sodbuster anymore, he thought.
Jason liked his work at the mill. But it became hard to study without falling asleep and even harder to get up in the mornings. As the weeks passed, Jason’s little pile of money grew. Each payday brought him closer to his goal. However, it was nearly time for the baby to be born and Jason knew that he would soon have to quit working at the mill because his mother would need more help at home. Every night when he went to bed he wondered how long he would be able to work.
The next payday Jason counted his savings. He had $19.10, and in his mind he could see the little pony in their barn. He was so busy thinking about the pony that he almost bumped into a buggy parked in their yard. He looked up and his heart leaped. It was Dr. Frank’s. The baby must have been born! He raced toward the house. Then his face fell. The cradle! Mother still didn’t have a cradle for the baby. But it really wasn’t his fault. Mother had said he could keep the money he earned. Still, he felt a twinge of selfishness. He opened the door slowly and peeked in. His grandmother was in the kitchen.
“Grandma, is it a boy or a girl?” he asked.
Grandmother smiled and put a finger to her lips, “Shh, your mother is asleep. Come and see your baby sister.”
Jason approached timidly. He had not been this close to a newborn baby before. She lay curled up in the laundry basket, wrapped in layers of blankets. “Oh, Grandma, she’s so tiny,” he whispered.
“Your mother has named her Jenny. She looks a little like you did when you were a baby,” said Grandma.
Jason bent down to look at the tiny fingers. They moved when he touched them and curled themselves around his larger finger. He frowned. He was the man of the house, and this little baby was partly his responsibility. How could he think of buying a pony when Jenny had no cradle?
“Grandma, I’m not very hungry. I have something important to do. Please tell Mother I’ll be back soon.”
Jason ran outside and didn’t stop till he came to the general store. Mr. Wright, the proprietor, also did woodworking as a hobby.
“Mr. Wright! My mother had a baby girl. How much would you charge to make me a cradle for her—one that rocks?”
“Well, since you’re a working man,” the storekeeper said with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ll make a real nice one for you for nine dollars. I can have it ready by Friday.”
“That’d be fine,” said Jason. As he turned to leave, he spied some baby clothes inside a showcase. “How much is that pretty little gown?” he asked. “I want to get that for Jenny too.”
All the way home Jason whistled a jaunty tune. He was sure that the real man of the house couldn’t be any happier about the new baby than her big brother was.

Two years ago, during summer break, Miranda, another friend, and I left for Maui to enjoy a short holiday. Early the next morning, my cell phone rang, bringing the news that my brother, and Jamie’s father, Jim Bunker, had collapsed and died on his regular morning walk. He was only 59 years old.

A few hours later, we attended church at a ward on Maui. It happened that the Gospel Doctrine class was studying Alma 5 that day. As we discussed that chapter, we read from verses 26-27: "And now behold, I say unto you, my brethren, if ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now? Have ye walked, keeping yourselves blameless before God? Could ye say, if ye were called to die at this time, within yourselves, that ye have been sufficiently humble? That your garments have been cleansed and made white through the blood of Christ, who will come to redeem his people from their sins?" (Alma 5:26-27)

Jim had suddenly been called home—that very day! A few hours before we were reading those words!

His sudden death made it difficult to sit through the gospel doctrine lesson, but the Lord’s timing of that lesson has lived on in my life and has been a blessing to our family.

Jim’s wife asked that I speak at the funeral, and I prepared some remarks before I left Maui, but on the morning of the funeral, as I reflected again on the scriptures we had discussed from Alma 5 in Sunday School class, I felt prompted to change my talk to these scriptures.

Jim and his family, as you can tell by listening to Jamie sing, love music and love to sing. I wondered, was Jim singing redeeming love the morning that he died? He had read the scriptures with his family who were at home at the time, had family prayer, and then they had eaten breakfast with them, all before setting out on what became his last walk in mortality. I would suppose that he was at least singing in his heart as he walked if he wasn’t humming a hymn—as was quite usual with him.

Not only did Jim sing often, but he loved the gospel and was a humble man. One nephew described him as someone who liked everyone he met and was “at home” with them; Jim treated everyone with respect and interest.

Note that Alma says in verse 28, “Behold, are ye stripped of pride? I say unto you, if ye are not ye are not prepared to meet God. Behold ye must prepare quickly; for the kingdom of heaven is soon at hand, and such an one hath not eternal life” (Alma 5:28).

For Jim that day, the kingdom of heaven was at hand.