Gospel Story Finder

There were at least two Latter-day Saint connections to the Titanic. Both illustrate our challenge in understanding trials, tribulations, and tragedies and provide insight as to how we might deal with them. The first is an example of being appreciative for the blessings we receive and the challenges we avoid. It involves Alma Sonne, who later served as a General Authority. He was my stake president when I was born in Logan, Utah. I had my mission interview with Elder Sonne. In those days all prospective missionaries were interviewed by a General Authority. He was a great influence in my life.

When Alma was a young man, he had a friend named Fred who was less active in the Church. They had numerous discussions about serving a mission, and eventually Alma Sonne convinced Fred to prepare and serve. They were both called to the British Mission. At the conclusion of their missions, Elder Sonne, the mission secretary, made the travel arrangements for their return to the United States. He booked passage on the Titanic for himself, Fred, and four other missionaries who had also completed their missions.

When it came time to travel, for some reason Fred was delayed. Elder Sonne canceled all six bookings to sail on the new luxury liner on its maiden voyage and booked passage on a ship that sailed the next day. The four missionaries, who were excited about traveling on the Titanic, expressed their disappointment. Elder Sonne’s answer paraphrased the account of Joseph and his brothers in Egypt recorded in Genesis: “How can we return to our families and the lad be not with us?” He explained to his companions that they all came to England together and they all should return home together. Elder Sonne subsequently learned of the Titanic’s sinking and gratefully said to his friend Fred, “You saved my life.” Fred replied, “No, by getting me on this mission, you saved my life.” All of the missionaries thanked the Lord for preserving them.

Lexi ran outside with the rest of Mrs. Crandall’s third-grade class for recess. What should she play today? Sometimes she jumped rope with Tara and Isabella. Sometimes she played foursquare with David and Kristina and Callie. But Lexi wanted to do something different today. Maybe she should join the soccer game.
Then Lexi noticed something very different.
A new girl sat near the edge of the playground. She had brown skin and long, shiny hair that reminded Lexi of her piano teacher’s glossy black piano. Lexi thought the new girl looked like a princess from another country.
Why wasn’t anyone playing with the new girl? Lexi decided to ask a teacher.
“Her name is Nasimah,” the teacher said. “She’s from Pakistan. She doesn’t speak English, but I’m sure she’d like to play with you.”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. She wondered how she could play with the new girl if they couldn’t talk to each other. How would she say, “What do you want to play?” or, “It’s your turn,” or even, “Hello”?
Lexi decided to jump rope with Isabella after all. But she watched Nasimah whenever she could.
At home, Lexi couldn’t stop thinking of Nasimah and how lonely she must be. There had to be a way to talk to her. Maybe Mom could think of something.
Lexi found her mother in the laundry room. She was sewing patches on Lexi’s brother’s Scout shirt. “Do you know any words from Pakistan?” Lexi asked.
“No,” Mom said. “Why?”
Lexi explained about Nasimah.
“If you want to play with her, I think you should,” Mom said, “even if you can’t understand her words.”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. She hung her head and played with the spools of thread in Mom’s sewing box. A ball of black yarn reminded Lexi of Nasimah’s shiny hair.
An idea was coming together in Lexi’s brain. “Mom,” she said, “do you have an old sock I can use?”
“An old sock? I suppose so.”
“And can I use some of this yarn?” Lexi dug through the box and found the button jar. “And a couple of buttons?”
“Sure,” Mom said.
With a little help from Mom, Lexi made the perfect sock puppet. Its hair was black, just like Nasimah’s hair. Its button eyes were blue, just like Lexi’s eyes. Mom helped Lexi make a red dress for the puppet.
The next day, Lexi thought recess would never come. Concentrating on her spelling test was hard. She kept thinking of the sock puppet in her backpack. Finally recess came and Lexi raced outside with the puppet.
Where was Nasimah? Lexi looked all over the playground. At last, Nasimah came out with her class and stood by the wall.
Lexi took a deep breath. Would the puppet work? It had seemed like such a wonderful idea yesterday.
“I have to try,” Lexi thought.
She walked slowly over to Nasimah. Lexi held up the puppet and slipped it over her hand. Moving her hand, she made the puppet talk.
“Hi!” the puppet said in Lexi’s voice. “Do you want to play with me?”
Lexi took the puppet off her hand. She gave it to Nasimah and helped her put it on her hand.
Nasimah moved the sock puppet. It began to speak strange words that danced in Lexi’s ears. They took turns with the puppet for the rest of recess. When Lexi held the puppet, it spoke English. When Nasimah held the puppet, it spoke her language. Lexi thought she was starting to understand a couple of words.
When the bell rang, Lexi handed the puppet to her new friend. “You keep it,” Lexi said. “It’s a present.”
Nasimah seemed to understand. She kept the puppet and smiled.
“Smiles are the same in all languages,” Lexi thought. And she smiled back.

Another missionary couple was called and assigned to a branch in the United States that was so inactive that it was about to be disbanded. The Church had a very poor image in the area.

The elder was a member of the Lions Club (a civic service organization) in his hometown, had served as a city administrator, and was an expert gardener. So he and his wife got acquainted with the local Lions Club, and the elder was invited to speak at one of their regular meetings. He talked about who they were and why they were there, and he also mentioned their need for a building in which the branch members could meet.

After the meeting, those present introduced themselves and offered to help in any way they could. One of them featured the missionaries in his newspaper which had 15,000 subscribers. They were also invited to participate in a television interview and were able to answer many questions about the Church and about genealogy.

Because the elder was an expert gardener, he used that skill to help him activate inactive members and to interest nonmembers in the gospel message. He obtained the use of a couple of acres of ground, prepared it for planting, and then invited people to come and participate. Everyone who joined in was assigned a piece of land, and he showed them how to raise a garden. They all had a good harvest and said it was one of the best gardens they had ever seen in that area. Many doors were opened to the missionaries. Today that branch is thriving, and the members are well on their way to having their own meetinghouse.

Gus German is only 17 years old, but he cannot remember a time when he wasn’t visiting Church members with his father. In Delaware, members are spread out in different directions and in many cases they’re miles away from one another. With that in mind, members try to check up on each other. Of course, Gus didn’t become a home teacher until age 12, when he received the Aaronic Priesthood and was assigned by his bishop to be his father’s companion. But he’d already learned a lot about caring for people and about preparing and presenting meaningful lessons, so he stepped right into his home teaching role.
“Scripture stories were my staple home teaching lessons,” says Gus, a priest who grew up in the Wilmington (Delaware) West Ward. “I’d studied them in story books from the time I was five, so I knew those stories cold. Some people wonder who Nebuchadnezzar is. I know who he is.”
Over the years, Gus and his father regularly visited Sister Joyce Miller, at the time a less-active member of the Church who was battling cancer.
“The thing I remember most about Gus as a young boy was that whenever I asked him to say a prayer, he would stand up and do it,” Sister Miller says. “A lot of young boys and girls roll their eyes when you ask them to do something like praying. Not Gus.”
Now the young man who stopped by was a deacon with a priesthood responsibility. “I wasn’t active when they first started visiting me,” Sister Miller continues, “but their visits meant everything. I wanted to come back to church, but I was smoking and didn’t want to go because I was afraid people would smell the smoke on me.”
“All I knew is we always went to Sister Miller’s house and had fun when we home-taught her. I didn’t think any different of her when I found out she smoked because we were already really good friends,” says Gus. “I was pretty impressed and proud of her when she did stop smoking because I have heard how tough it is to quit.”
When she did stop smoking, Sister Miller began going to church again. “I was so glad because I liked seeing her. I would be able to see a smile on her face and be able to tell she really liked being at church,” Gus adds.
When Gus turned 16 and got his driver’s license, he was able to see that smile more and more. As her condition worsened, Sister Miller was unable to drive. Gus happily volunteered to pick her up and take her to church. “Sometimes she couldn’t stay past the sacrament in sacrament meeting so I would take her home.” Now, other ward members pick up Sister Miller when she’s able to go to church. And when she wasn’t, guess who went to her house to take her the sacrament.
“Sometimes I went with my dad, and sometimes I went with the Young Men president or one of the guys from my quorum,” explains Gus. “It’s something I did that helped her out. I liked doing it.”
Something else he did to help her out: Gus and his dad took Sister Miller to receive her patriarchal blessing.
“When we went for my blessing, Jack (Gus’s dad) took us in his car, the hot rod (a Chevy Nova). We laughed all the way down there. Gus was in the backseat laughing, and my face hurt from laughing,” Sister Miller remembers. “When I had my blessing, Jack and Gus were as quiet as church mice. After all that laughing we did on our way down, it was pretty quiet on the trip back. That is very memorable. We always have a good time, the three of us.”

Jesse fidgeted from one foot to the other and chewed hard on his bottom lip. He couldn’t believe that he had really rung Mrs. Finster’s doorbell. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. Some of the kids at school said that she was a witch, but Mom said that that was silly and to not talk mean about people.
Jesse glanced back at the huge rosebush next to the sidewalk. He and his best friend, Billy, walked by that bush every afternoon on their way home from first grade. It was loaded with large pink flowers. He could barely see the top of Billy’s head ducked behind that bush. He could have just used his pocket knife to cut off a rose—Mrs. Finster would have never known. Maybe he could still do it. …
The door opened suddenly, and Jesse jumped. A gray-haired woman, her face creased with wrinkle upon wrinkle, stood silently in front of him.
“I’m Jesse Brown. I wanted a rose for my mama, and you have a bunch, and pink’s her favorite, and it would make her really happy, but it’s OK if you say no. Sorry to bother you.” Jesse turned to run. Billy was already halfway down the block.
“Wait just a minute, young man. You want one of my roses for your mother, is that it?”
Jesse turned slowly back to face her, “Yes, ma’am, if you don’t mind.” He hoped that he could remember his manners—this was no time to mess up.
“Haven’t you heard that I eat little boys who bother me?”
Jesse would have run, but his legs wouldn’t move. “Yes, ma’am, but I don’t believe it. It’s against the law, you know.”
Mrs. Finster’s smile lit up her whole face. It twinkled from her eyes and melted away most of her wrinkles. “I’ll get my clippers, and we’ll get the biggest, prettiest pink rose your mother has ever seen.”
As they walked down the driveway, Mrs. Finster said, “Your mother must be very proud of you. Other boys might have just taken a rose. But you see, if a rose isn’t clipped just right, it damages both the bush and the flower. I’m glad that you asked first.”
“Me too.” Jesse felt pretty good inside. Mama would be pleased with him—and she was going to love the rose!
They searched the bush together for the biggest, brightest rose. When they found it, Jesse thought that it smelled almost as good as fresh-baked cookies. Mrs. Finster clipped it so that it had a nice long stem and handed it to Jesse. “Be careful of the thorns,” she warned with a smile.
Jesse held his prize gently in his hands. “Thank you very much,” he said. He turned and started for home.
“Stop by anytime,” Mrs. Finster called after him. “I have plenty of roses.”
“I will,” Jesse promised as he waved back to Mrs. Finster. “I’ll stop by soon.”

I remember vividly my first view of an iceberg. In 1937 Sister Kimball and I made our first crossing of the Atlantic Ocean by ship from Montreal, Canada, out through the St. Lawrence River and into the North Atlantic Ocean.
One day when we were well out into the ocean, there was excitement on the ship. An iceberg had been sighted. Most of the passengers rushed to the deck to see this sight. We could see it in the distance—a great white object against the dark sea and the azure blue of the sky.
There it floated quietly in the water like a sharp peak of a high mountain range, a thing of beauty to behold. All my life I had heard about them, and now, for the first time, it was there before my eyes—a sharp mountain peak of ice.

One evening in a small courtyard on Mount Zion near David’s tomb, I sat on a weathered wooden bench talking to a group of Yeshivah (orthodox Jewish seminary) students. The sun cast long golden shadows as they told me of God’s purposes for them in Israel. Several of them, American Jews who had immigrated to Israel, felt that God had arranged the events of their lives so that they would finally come to Israel. Their feelings were intense and sincere, and they seemed willing to follow God’s will as they felt it.
Israel seems to be preparing herself to renew her ancient covenant with God.
Even now there is a rapidly growing group of Jewish Christians. These are Jews who believe that Jesus was, indeed, the Messiah. Quite by accident I met a young couple who held that belief. Early one morning I entered a small stationery store in Jerusalem and was greeted by a friendly couple who spoke excellent English. We chatted for a few moments, and they were impressed by my Mormon attitudes, so they invited me out to lunch with them later that afternoon. After a very pleasant meal of Hungarian goulash, we talked for three hours, mostly about the similarities in our religious feelings. They were fascinated by the story of Joseph Smith and the idea of a personal, tangible God. They were especially interested in the Latter-day Saint concept of family unity and exaltation. They warmed to an invitation to attend our branch services in Jerusalem and expressed a desire to learn more about the Church. As we talked, I made a mental note to send them a copy of the Book of Mormon with my personal testimony written on the flyleaf.
Even atheists seem affected by God’s influence. A veteran Israeli soldier told me of his experience during the fighting of the six-day war of 1967. “Even though I was an atheist, a strange feeling came over me when we broke through the opposing forces and reached the Wailing Wall. I stood there crying like a baby. And since then … I don’t know … maybe there is a God.”
Most Latter-day Saints are familiar with the spirit of gathering that has impelled thousands of Jews to leave the lands of their birth, comfortable homes, and good businesses to immigrate to Israel. And they come in spite of extremely high income taxes (generally 50 percent) and the constant threat of war and terrorist raids. One immigrant told me that he had left his whole family and all of his friends in Chile. “I really don’t know why,” he said simply. Another young man from South Africa shrugged his shoulders: “I guess if I’m going to die for something, I want it to be for God.”
“Behold, I will gather them out of all countries, whither I have driven them in mine anger; … and I will bring them again unto this place, and I will cause them to dwell safely:
“And they shall be my people, and I will be their God.” (Jer. 32:37–38.)
Just the land itself is enough to stir up thoughts of ancient prophets and the ministry of the Savior. Jesus spoke of sowing seeds among the rocks; I’ve stumbled through fields that seemed more rock than dirt. Rocks are so numerous that the many hilly terraces, walls, and buildings made up of them do not seem to deplete their endless plenty. Wild flowers, the “lilies of the field,” are in great abundance and beauty. Everywhere there are shepherds and sheep, reflecting a changeless cycle and adding credence to the life of the Good Shepherd.
For me that sense of reality is the strongest message of Israel. The Savior’s feet walked and his voice sounded on the hills I climbed each evening as I wearily, but happily headed homeward after a long day of photography. He saw the sun coming up in the morning and felt its heat at noonday. Even some of the unpleasant odors of Old Jerusalem were common to him. Jesus taught here.
Later I climbed the Mount of Olives by way of a very old stone path. The huge stones were polished from the countless sandals of several thousand years. The feet of Jesus probably climbed this path from Jerusalem to Bethany. It was long and steep, and I stopped several times to gulp much needed air and to wipe the sweat from my eyes. As I lifted my eyes to see the top of the hill, I imagined myself to be one of the Savior’s disciples, following him up the path to Bethany. Perhaps I would have stumbled on a projecting rock and called, “Master, wait for me.” Or I might have asked, “Lord, what of the last days?” For a moment I stood there, aboard my own personal time-machine, wondering about the closeness to Christ that I was feeling. As tears came unexpectedly, I understood those I had seen in President David O. McKay’s eyes during a sacrament meeting a few years ago. He had cried in contemplation of the suffering of a close friend, a man called Jesus.
Later, almost by chance while reading an obscure book, I made a discovery. There were still in existence two pillars, with the original capitals still crowning them, that had been part of the portico of Solomon’s temple. It took special permission from the Arab Religious Council to gain access to them, and then I could only get as close as the open mesh of a wire fence. In breathless silence I looked at a fragment of the glory that was Israel 3,000 years ago. Now they stand in a storage room crowded with empty chairs, silent sentinels of a glorious past.
Even in the midst of modern technology, ancient Israel pokes its way into the present. As they have done for thousands of years, Arab women in brightly colored dresses still carry baskets balanced gracefully on their heads, though the baskets are now made of garish plastic mesh. I saw a woman hand-spinning wool into yarn as she walked along herding sheep; she wore modern slacks under her purple and orange dress.
Such is life in Israel today. An old Arab in the mosque-of-the-Dome area in Jerusalem, caught my eye as I laughed at a group of children teasing him. “Children, the same everywhere,” he smiled. And didn’t the Master of us all say, “Suffer the little children to come unto me”? Jesus did walk and teach in changeless changed Jerusalem.

I remember fondly our entire family’s great joy when two of our children received their calls to serve as full-time missionaries. Excitement and anticipation filled our hearts as they each opened their special letter from the prophet of God. Our daughter Jenessa was called to the Michigan Detroit Mission, and our son, Christian, was called to the Russia Moscow South Mission. What humbling and thrilling experiences, all at the same time!

As Sister Rasband and I had the privilege of presiding over the New York New York North Mission several years ago, I marveled as the missionaries arrived in New York City.
As I interviewed them on their first day in the mission, I had a profound sense of gratitude for each missionary. I felt that their call to our mission was divinely designed for them and for me as their mission president.
After finishing our mission assignment, I was called by President Gordon B. Hinckley to serve as a Seventy in the Church. Part of my early training as a new General Authority included an opportunity to sit with members of the Twelve as they assigned missionaries to serve in one of the 300-plus missions of this great Church.
With the encouragement and permission of President Henry B. Eyring, I would like to relate to you an experience, very special to me, which I had with him several years ago when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Each Apostle holds the keys of the kingdom and exercises them at the direction and assignment of the President of the Church. Elder Eyring was assigning missionaries to their fields of labor, and as part of my training, I was invited to observe.
I joined Elder Eyring early one morning in a room where several large computer screens had been prepared for the session. There was also a staff member from the Missionary Department who had been assigned to assist us that day.
First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know “perfectly” where the missionaries should be assigned. The word “perfectly” said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.
As the process began, a picture of the missionary to be assigned would come up on one of the computer screens. As each picture appeared, to me it was as if the missionary were in the room with us. Elder Eyring would then greet the missionary with his kind and endearing voice: “Good morning, Elder Reier or Sister Yang. How are you today?”
He told me that in his own mind he liked to think of where the missionaries would conclude their mission. This would aid him to know where they were to be assigned. Elder Eyring would then study the comments from the bishops and stake presidents, medical notes, and other issues relating to each missionary.
He then referred to another screen which displayed areas and missions across the world. Finally, as he was prompted by the Spirit, he would assign the missionary to his or her field of labor.
From others of the Twelve, I have learned that this general method is typical each week as Apostles of the Lord assign scores of missionaries to serve throughout the world.
Having served as a missionary in my own country in the Eastern States Mission a number of years ago, I was deeply moved by this experience. Also, having served as a mission president, I was grateful for a further witness in my heart that the missionaries I had received in New York City were sent to me by revelation.
After assigning a few missionaries, Elder Eyring turned to me as he pondered one particular missionary and said, “So, Brother Rasband, where do you think this missionary should go?” I was startled! I quietly suggested to Elder Eyring that I did not know and that I did not know I could know! He looked at me directly and simply said, “Brother Rasband, pay closer attention and you too can know!” With that, I pulled my chair a little closer to Elder Eyring and the computer screen, and I did pay much closer attention!
A couple of other times as the process moved along, Elder Eyring would turn to me and say, “Well, Brother Rasband, where do you feel this missionary should go?” I would name a particular mission, and Elder Eyring would look at me thoughtfully and say, “No, that’s not it!” He would then continue to assign the missionaries where he had felt prompted.
As we were nearing the completion of that assignment meeting, a picture of a certain missionary appeared on the screen. I had the strongest prompting, the strongest of the morning, that the missionary we had before us was to be assigned to Japan. I did not know that Elder Eyring was going to ask me on this one, but amazingly he did. I rather tentatively and humbly said to him, “Japan?” Elder Eyring responded immediately, “Yes, let’s go there.” And up on the computer screen the missions of Japan appeared. I instantly knew that the missionary was to go to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Elder Eyring did not ask me the exact name of the mission, but he did assign that missionary to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Privately in my heart I was deeply touched and sincerely grateful to the Lord for allowing me to experience the prompting to know where that missionary should go.
At the end of the meeting Elder Eyring bore his witness to me of the love of the Savior, which He has for each missionary assigned to go out into the world and preach the restored gospel. He said that it is by the great love of the Savior that His servants know where these wonderful young men and women, senior missionaries, and senior couple missionaries are to serve. I had a further witness that morning that every missionary called in this Church, and assigned or reassigned to a particular mission, is called by revelation from the Lord God Almighty through one of these, His servants.

When the Montreal Quebec Temple was rededicated after major renovations in 2015, open houses were organized by our local leaders. It was the ideal time to invite friends to come and see the temple.
I immediately thought of two good college friends who had already asked me about the Church and my beliefs. In the past, both of them had agreed to attend sacrament meeting at Christmastime. I had also invited them to my wedding two years earlier. That had been an opportunity to explain to them why they could come to the reception but not to the sealing ceremony in the temple.1
Still, even though I had talked with them about the Church before, I hesitated to invite them. I feared being in an uncomfortable situation if they refused. Finally, I got the courage and asked them over the phone: “Would you like to see the place where I was married? The temple is open to the public for guided tours. If that’s of interest to you, we could go together.”
The answer in both cases was a swift “Yes! I would like that.”
One of my friends came with her two children, and the other came with her spouse. It was an unforgettable experience for me. I felt immense joy in being able to share my love for the temple with them.

This was the birth of the Young Ladies Retrenchment Society, and it started to grow from that moment. In one place, as the association began, the minutes were recorded to say, “A large and respectable congregation was in attendance.” However, a closer look at the minutes showed only two people were present—the newly called president and her secretary. But the secretary defended her entry by saying: “The minutes are correct. The president is very large, and I am certainly respectable.”

Nine Scouts and three leaders from the Hobart First and Third Branches (Australia Melbourne Mission) were the only Latter-day Saints to join 60 fellow Scouters in an Easter camp at Maria Island.
To reach the island the boys had to travel one and a half hours by car and one hour by ferry from Triabunna. The island is a national park and wildlife sanctuary that abounds in emus and Cape Barren geese. (Emus, for the non-Australian reader, are flightless birds related to the ostrich.) It was first established as a penal colony, with its own brickworks. Later a company established a cement works and farming, but these eventually failed. Now it is great for camping, hiking, exploring nature and prison ruins, mountain climbing, and swimming.
The Scouts and their leaders made the rough sea crossing and backpacked all the gear and food to a well-watered and protected campsite a mile from the jetty. The boys were kept busy after setting up camp by keeping the emus out of the camp area, cooking meals over the open fire, gathering wood, exploring the ruins, getting footsore on a long hike, playing games, bush walking, and mountain climbing—some of the hardier ones went swimming.
On Sunday afternoon the Church Scouts and a few friends withdrew from the campsite and held a short sacrament and testimony meeting. This was followed by a quiet walk back to camp for the evening meal and then a gathering around the campfire for singing and talks.
The next morning they broke camp after breakfast and cleaned up the campsite. A final game of softball was played, and then the tractor and trailer arrived for the bulky gear. The final parade was held and two boys from the Hobart Third Branch were invested as Scouts.
Finally it was time to carry personal packs to the jetty to await the ferry. The gear was put aboard, and the trip home began, the ferry bucking and rolling through the rough water.
The Scouts had a fine time of fellowship, but possibly more important, more people gained an insight into Latter-day Saint standards because of the Scouts and leaders’ behavior.

When President Conley returned from Salt Lake City, I told him I wanted to be baptized. As we drove to Gilmer, Texas, for my baptism on 19 October 1970, I asked him, “Do I understand correctly from what I have read in the scriptures that just because I’m being baptized, I’m not saved, but that I have to endure to the end?”
He said, “That’s exactly right.”
I cried all the way to my baptism. I felt very strongly that the Church was true. After baptism, I felt it ten times more strongly.

I am a new member of the Church as of February 26, 1977. I was first taught the gospel by two fine young missionaries about seven years ago but did not join the Church at that time. Throughout this long period the Church magazines have been my only contact with the Church. I have received endless spiritual guidance and encouragement from the many articles. There have been many times during this period when I have been very depressed, and the magazines have always been a source of strength. They have played a strong part in finally bringing me into the true Church.
Tom WaitmanCupertino, California

Let me tell you a little bit more about what comes through inspired patriarchs. One of the most powerful ways the Lord conveys his will to you and to me is through a patriarchal blessing. The Lord crafts those blessings personally for each one of us. I’ll tell you something a little bit humorous about my patriarchal blessing in that respect, given that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.

I took a date one time to general conference in Salt Lake while I was attending BYU. In between conference sessions, we ran into our stake patriarch, Brother Delbert V. Groberg from Idaho Falls. (Incidentally, the “V” in his middle name stands for Valentine). Well, I introduced my date to him and we chatted for a few minutes and then went on to conference and that’s the last I thought of it. A few weeks passed and I was talking to my dad, and he said “I understand that you ran into Brother Groberg down at conference.” I said “Yeah, I did. How do you know that?” And he said, “well, I just happened to bump into him” (They were in the same ward). And they got to talking and I said “Well, what did he say Dad?” And my dad just simply said, “She’s not the one!” You can imagine how I felt when Dad related that experience to me! I recalled the portion of my patriarchal blessing that spoke of marriage and family, and I began to wonder if Brother Groberg had seen a vision of my future wife! I really didn’t know what he saw or felt, but I was impressed that he cared enough about me to offer guidance, and I respected him enough to follow it.

When Meliton arrived in Salt Lake, he ran into a problem. He could read English but had never spoken it. He couldn’t communicate with anyone! But he decided that if he couldn’t talk to people, he would get their attention another way. Meliton put on his Spanish Army uniform and marched up and down the city streets. Just as he hoped, many people noticed him! Finally he was spotted by a member of the Church named Brother Blanchard, a university professor who spoke Spanish. Brother Blanchard helped Meliton get settled in Salt Lake and taught him the gospel. Soon Meliton was baptized.

During my service as mission president, I met many young people who also demonstrated this kind of pliability. I first met Olivier Pecqueux on a visit to New Caledonia. He was 24 years old and in the military service. He was not active in the Church, pursuing instead a life of worldliness. But the Lord had other plans for him. At his request we met and discussed his patriarchal blessing. He decided to humble himself, repent, and let the Lord mold his life. Soon he was called on a full-time mission, and he became one of my most capable elders. He is now attending college and was recently married in the Tahiti temple.

Last year the children in Clara’s grade-four class were assigned to give four-to-five-minute speeches. Clara chose to give a speech on the Holocaust, which she presented as if she were a girl in a concentration camp. When she first rehearsed her speech, it took eight minutes and 40 seconds to give because many of the words were hard to say. She practiced it over and over. The speech slowly grew shorter as she learned to say the words fluently. She finally presented the speech in four minutes and 40 seconds, and her classmates chose her to represent them in front of the whole school. When she did, the entire student body broke into wild applause. Many of them had known Clara since grade one, and her progress seemed miraculous. “The principal was crying,” Clara’s mom recalls. “Clara’s grade-two teacher was crying. Her grade-four teacher was cheering. It was such a victory—one of the greatest moments of my life!”
What did Clara learn from the experience? “Keep trying,” she counsels children everywhere. “Never give up.”
Of course, prayer was also a vital part of Clara’s triumph. She has great faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Primary, home evenings, scripture study, and her parents’ teachings have helped. Her older sisters have made a difference too, both through their good examples and their reading materials. As soon as Carly, 18, and Josie, 15, turned 12 in their turn, they began putting New Era Posters on their mirrors. Clara has also memorized seminary scripture mastery scriptures and learned President Hinckley’s six B’s with her sisters.

Scripture chasing is a popular pastime in many seminaries throughout the Church. In most cases seminary students learn to find scriptures within seconds after being given a clue or situation. Competition is intensified when youth are put on teams and given points for their speed and accuracy. And in the Champaign Illinois Stake, even the media took notice.
The students were given the challenge to memorize 40 scriptures in the Old Testament. The objective was to learn to locate the scriptures and then apply them in daily life. During practice sessions the students were given (1) a short clue, usually one word, (2) a verbal description of a life situation, or (3) a picture of some event. They then had to find the specific scripture in 15 seconds. The time was gradually reduced until each student could find every scripture in just a few seconds.
Out of 250 home-study and early morning seminary students in the Champaign Stake area, 15 became finalists in a run-off competition. In May 1976 the students with the fastest times formed three teams of five members each. Final competition between the teams was telecast over commercial television. The winning team, Robert Woolley, Carol Burdock, Deann Veach, Sue Ellen Emery, and Carol Retz, were given award plaques for their accomplishment.

On one occasion I was assigned to accompany Elder Neal A. Maxwell, then of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, to a stake conference. It was marvelous to be with one of the most remarkable gospel teachers of this dispensation. At the conference I gained an insight into how he had developed and magnified what was undoubtedly a God-given gift. As we were driving away from the stake center on Saturday evening, he turned in his seat and asked me, “What could I have done better to teach the principles we taught?”
I thought he had to be joking. But he kept on grilling me until he extracted from me a comment about some minor thing that might have been slightly unclear. The next day, in the Sunday general session of the stake conference, he clarified that minor thing that I had mentioned. I realized that I was with a humble disciple of Jesus Christ who welcomed counsel, was committed to being a lifelong determined learner, and desired to become better.

It’s hard to believe it was only 120 years ago when Wilbur and Orville Wright first lifted off and flew over the sands of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Four short flights on that December day changed the world and opened the door to one of the greatest inventions in the world’s history.
Flying was risky in those early days. The brothers knew this. And so did their father, Milton. In fact, he was so terrified of losing both of his sons in a flying accident that they promised him they would never fly together.
And they never did—with one exception. Seven years after that historic day at Kitty Hawk, Milton Wright finally gave his consent and watched as Wilbur and Orville flew together for the first time. After landing, Orville convinced his father to take his first and only flight and to see for himself what it was like.
As the plane lifted from the ground, the 82-year-old Milton got so caught up in the exhilaration of flight that all fear left him. Orville rejoiced as his father shouted with delight, “Higher, Orville, higher!”
This was a man after my own heart!