Gospel Story Finder

Seventh, don’t complain. Life isn’t always fair. That’s a fact. But it’s always charged with marvelous opportunities if you know how to find them. I remember once when I was working as hard as I knew how. I happened to be working for a man who took all of the ideas and suggestions and work that I did and passed them on to his superior as though they were his own suggestions. For a while I was really upset about that. As I pondered it, a thought came to me, and I decided from then on I would write reports to him of everything that I was doing or trying to do, and I sent a copy to his boss. He didn’t like that, but it worked beautifully.

In the northern provinces of Canada there is a version of an old fable about two geese and a tortoise. They had a strong friendship. The story goes something like this: When fall arrived, the geese planned to migrate south for the winter. One evening the geese worried about the situation of their friend, the tortoise.

“It’s too bad that you can’t fly,” said one of the geese. “You will certainly miss us. How will you survive?”

“I have an idea,” responded the tortoise. “Why not find a good stick that you can hold in your beaks? I will hold onto it with my teeth. Thus, when you fly south, I will fly with you.”

“Do you think you are strong enough to hold on for such a long time?” asked the other goose.

“Certainly. I am very strong,” said the tortoise.

A few days later, somewhere over Montana, a farmer raised his eyes and saw something unbelievable: two geese flying over his head with a stick in their beaks and a tortoise holding onto the stick.

He cried out, “That’s incredible! Who had such a great idea?”

Knowing that it was his idea, the tortoise couldn’t resist and cried out, “It was I!”

And the tortoise fell.

Academic conferences provide an important setting for contributing to religious freedom. Let me describe a few incidents that have grown out of this type of activity. Each fall for the past several years we have held an international conference at BYU dealing with religious freedom. The minister of justice from Peru attended one of these two or three years ago. At the time the Church had just learned that it had exhausted missionary quotas for the year in Peru. A Church official working with visas mentioned this to the minister of justice during a break at the conference. He was quite surprised that such a quota existed at all and indicated he would check into the matter when he returned home. Within a few weeks there were no more missionary quotas in Peru.

Such a project is ongoing on the Pacific Island nation of Kiribati.
Tamana Natanaera, the local self-reliance manager for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was tasked with finding members with gardening experience and a passion for growing things.
Working with local leaders, Tamana helped to identify seven qualified members whom he refers to as “champions.”
Each champion was given the equipment to set up a nursery tailored to fit in his or her available space.
A simple greenhouse was supplied to hold and protect seedling trays, as well as to offer shade as needed. Seeds were provided for growing nutritious produce such as cucumber, eggplant, capsicum, cabbage, tomato, watermelon, papaya and rock melon.
A watering system is a particular necessity in Kiribati. Although the 33 islands that comprise Kiribati stretch across 3.5 million square kilometres of ocean water, fresh water is very scarce.
The champions were thus each provided with a watering system composed of a small solar pump to draw water from a well, a water tank with a stand, and a piping system.
Tamana Natanaera noted that the water system given to the champions is a big help as it greatly improves their ability to produce more.
With these necessary tools, the champion gardeners are able to do their part. For two years now, they have been planting the seeds in the small trays and nurturing them.
When the seedlings are ready to be transplanted into a garden, the champions begin sharing them with neighbours and friends. They may ask their church leaders to announce to their congregation that seedlings are available. They may also give the seedlings to coworkers or to neighbours in their communities who are interested in growing their own produce.
When the champion has seedlings left over, they can transplant them into their own garden for their personal use or they may sell their excess produce to neighbours.
The Church will provide seeds to the champions for one more year and at the end of that period, the gardeners should be capable of producing their own seeds to maintain growing and sharing the seedlings. The program will continue to bless many people in Kiribati communities.
This project is not just an example of growing seedlings, but also of growing self-reliance, community spirit and neighbourly friendships. Underpinning all of this is a growing faith—among many participants—in He who created all things, and who cares for His children, one by one.

President McKay served his mission in Scotland. This was a missionary assignment that pleased him because the McKays originated in Scotland. In 1898 while serving in Scotland, Elder McKay and his companion were transferred from Glasgow to Stirling. Upon arriving in Stirling, they needed to find an apartment. After preparing themselves for the day, they went in search of possibilities. They found an appropriate place and then decided to familiarize themselves with the area. They spent the afternoon sightseeing. They visited “Stirling Castle, the Statue of King Robert the Bruce, the Ladies’ Rock, the Battlefield of Bannockburn, the Public Green, the King’s Tournament” (Larson & Larson, 1999, p. xxxiii), and other sites in Stirling. As they left Stirling Castle to return to their newly acquired apartment, they walked down Back O’ Hill Road. Elder McKay noticed a building under construction for new apartments that would be known as the Albany Crescent buildings. As he and his companion passed the construction site Elder McKay noticed something unusual about the building. He later recalled, “from the sidewalk to my surprise I saw an inscription carved in stone on the lintel of the front door. I said to Brother Johnson, ‘I want to go over there and see what that inscription says.’ I was not more than halfway up the pathway leading to it when this message struck me:, ‘What e’er Thou Art, Act Well thy Part...’ (McKay, D. O., 1959, The Improvement Era, 62 (October), pp. 726-727, 770-771).

There is no record in Elder McKay’s missionary journal about this experience, but the message from the Albany Crescent stone had a tremendous impact on him from that day forward. He recounted during a 1959 General Conference address the impact that this experience had on him as a young missionary. I recall hearing this phrase, What e’er Thou Art, Act Well thy Part, as I was growing up. I assumed for many years that this phrase originated from President McKay himself.

Sarah heard her mom call her. “Coming, Mom,” she called back. She set her doll on her bed and ran down the hall toward the kitchen. She took the shortest route through the family room—up onto the corner table, across the sofa, over the big stuffed chair, and around the breakfast bar. “Here I am,” she announced.
Mom smiled. “That was very fast,” she said, “but next time I would appreciate it if you walked around the furniture.”
Sarah giggled. “But then I wouldn’t be as fast.”
“That’s true, but now look who’s trying to do what you did.”
Sarah turned around and saw her little brother, Adam. He was standing on the corner table, ready to make the jump from the table to the sofa. Mom hurried over and lifted him off the table.
“Adam learns a lot from watching you,” said Mom. “You need to set a good example for him to follow.” She set Adam down on the floor. “The reason I called you was to tell you that I’m going to go outside to work in the garden,” Mom continued. “Do you want to come out with me?”
“Sure,” said Sarah. She looked down at her bare feet. “But I need to get my shoes on.” She turned to run back to her bedroom. Adam followed. This time she hurried around the furniture, and so did Adam.
“You’re right, Mom,” she said as she returned with her shoes in her hand, and Adam right behind her. “He does follow my example.”
Sarah sat down to put on her shoes.
“Sissy, outside,” said Adam, walking to the door.
“He knows you’re going outside because he sees you putting on your shoes,” Mom said. She followed Adam to the door. “We’re all going to go outside,” she told him with a smile.
Adam pulled on the doorknob but couldn’t turn it. He looked at Mom. “Open?”
Shoes on, Sarah ran to the door. “I’ll open it,” she said. She turned the doorknob and gave a mighty tug. Adam cheered when he saw the sunlight streaming in through the open door.
“Come on, Adam,” Sarah said, “let’s ride our trikes.”
Adam ran past Sarah to the swing set. “Swing, Mommy?” he said hopefully.
Sarah hopped onto her tricycle. “No, Adam, we’re going to ride our trikes,” she insisted.
“Swing, Mommy?” Adam repeated.
Mom lifted Adam into the swing. “I think Adam wants to swing right now,” she said to Sarah.
“He can’t,” Sarah said sadly. “He’s supposed to follow my example.”
Mom gave Adam a push. “Having him follow your example, and making him do what you tell him to do aren’t the same thing,” she said.
“They aren’t?” asked Sarah in a disappointed tone.
“No.” Mom explained, “Adam is just a little boy, but he is starting to make some of his own decisions. Sometimes he will do what you want him to do, and sometimes he won’t.”
“I wish he would always do what I want him to do,” said Sarah.
“But that’s not the way life works,” Mom pointed out. “We all have our agency, which means that we are free to make our own decisions. There are good examples that we can follow, and there are bad examples that we can follow.”
Sarah thought for a moment. “I know it’s all right for Adam to follow my example, but is it all right if I follow Adam’s example?”
Mom nodded. “It would be fine for you to follow Adam’s example as long as he’s not doing something wrong,” she said.
“I’m going to follow his example right now,” Sarah said, climbing off of her tricycle, “because I want to swing, too.”

The woodland was under a heavy shroud of cloud cover that weekend. Rain filtered through the air, and the cameramen waited patiently to expose their film. It rained, and they prayed. And it rained some more. If the filmmakers were unable to complete filming in that one week during the spring of 1975, the project would have to wait a year until the surroundings were right again. The season would soon change, and to add to the problems, the lead actor had to leave the following Friday. On Monday morning the crew awoke before dawn and and began to set up all their equipment, thinking somehow they could compensate for the weather. But suddenly it stopped raining. When the sun came up, they beheld the loveliest mist they had ever seen. The tall, wet grasses sparkled, and the birds burst forth in song, and they knew they had been blessed with a beauty they could never have produced themselves.
That morning the Brigham Young University Department of Film Production began filming scenes for the First Vision. Stewart Petersen, who played the Prophet Joseph, walked through those tall grasses with thoughts of that other “beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (JS—H 1:14) when Joseph Smith humbly prayed for an answer to his question, “Which of all the churches should I join?”
The First Vision is a historical film commissioned by the Church for release as a teaching aid and missionary tool. The script follows Joseph Smith’s own account of the spring of 1820 in Palmyra, New York, when, after reading and pondering James 1:5, he decided to ask of God which church was true.
The singular beauty of that first morning was followed by a week of busy filming. By Thursday renewed bad weather set in—more clouds and more rain. By the end of the day there was still one important scene that needed to be put on film—and that scene had to be filmed in bright sunlight. It was the scene where Joseph runs toward his home on a bright sunny day. So Friday morning they set up an 18-foot scaffold for their cameras in the center of the field that lay between the grove and Joseph’s home. They offered another special prayer and waited. After what seemed like hours the clouds parted. The cameras rolled. Just before the scene ended, the clouds closed in again, and darkness prevailed. “That’s all we got,” said David Jacobs, producer-director, “but that was all we needed—it’s the scene that opens the film.”
In Joseph’s own account of the First Vision he tells of entering the grove and kneeling to supplicate the Lord. Suddenly he felt a literal darkness—“some power which entirely overcame me … the power of some actual being from the unseen world.” (JS—H 1:15–16.) How to handle the feeling of such an evil influence was hard to conceptualize and then transfer onto the film. On the plane to New York the week before, David Jacobs had been studying some research material on a recently discovered account of the vision written by Joseph.
A couple of sentences jumped out at him as he read: Joseph said, “I heard a noise behind me like someone walking toward me. I strove again to pray, but could not; the noise of walking seemed to draw nearer. I sprang upon my feet and looked around, but saw no person or thing that was calculated to produce the noise of walking.” (As quoted in Dean Jesse, “Early Accounts of the First Vision,” BYU Studies, Spring 1969, p. 284.) “I knew instantly,” Dave said, “that this was how I wanted to get into the darkness scene. It was dramatic. It was true.”

On 5 October 1856 at general conference, the commanding figure of Brigham Young, 55-year-old prophet of God, stood at the pulpit in the Tabernacle. Said he—and I’d like to have you think about our day, about the General Authorities who have their talks prepared—to the congregation:
I will now give this people the subject and the text for the Elders who may speak to-day and during the Conference, it is this, on the 5th day of October, 1856, many of our brethren and sisters are on the Plains with hand-carts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. The text will be—to get them here! I want the brethren who may speak to understand that their text is the people on the Plains, and the subject matter for this community is to send for them and bring them in before the winter sets in.
That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess, it is to save the people. . . . This is the salvation I am now seeking for, to save our brethren that would be apt to perish, or suffer extremely, if we do not send them assistance. [JD 4:113]
He then called on the bishops for sixty good mule teams, twelve or fifteen wagons, forty teamsters, twelve tons of flour, and other supplies; then he said:
I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the celestial kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. [And then I believe he must have said this with all the fervor of a prophet:] GO AND BRING IN THOSE PEOPLE NOW ON THE PLAINS. [JD 4:113]

At that time, Samuel and Margaret Pucell, husband and wife, were out on the plains with their two daughters: Maggie, 14, and Ellen, 10. Listen to their circumstances:
Margaret became ill, so had to ride in the handcart part of the way. [So Brother Pucell was then pulling not only the 500 pounds but also his wife who was on top of the handcart.] Her husband grew so weary and weakened from the lack of food that this additional burden caused him to slip and fall one day as he crossed the river. Having to travel in the cold, wintry weather with wet clothing he, too, became ill and died from hunger and exposure. His wife died five days later, leaving ten-year-old Ellen and fourteen-year-old Maggie orphans. . . . Many died and many others suffered from frozen limbs, among them the Pucell girls, both having badly frozen feet and legs. . . . When shoes and stockings were removed from the girls’ feet, the skin came off. Although Maggie’s legs were frozen, she would not allow them to do more than scrape the flesh off the bones, but Ellen’s were so bad they had to be amputated just below the knees. [Hafen, Handcarts, p. 138]

On 30 November, a Sunday (now think about the weather and the time and season and how cold it is—oftentimes we’re skiing after Thanksgiving), the Saints were assembled in the Tabernacle again with President Brigham Young presiding. Having been apprised of the imminent arrival of the immigrants, the Martin Handcart Company, he spoke to the congregation:
When those persons arrive I do not want to see them put into houses by themselves; I want to have them distributed in the city among the families that have good and comfortable houses; and I wish all the sisters now before me, and all who know how and can, to nurse and wait upon the new comers and prudently administer medicine and food to them. To speak upon these things is a part of my religion, for it pertains to taking care of the Saints. . . .
As soon as this meeting is dismissed I want the brethren and sisters to repair to their homes, where their Bishops will call on them to take in some of this company; the Bishops will distribute them as the people can receive them. . . .
The afternoon meeting will be omitted, for I wish the sisters to go home and prepare to give those who have just arrived a mouthful of something to eat, and to wash them and nurse them up. You know that I would give more for a dish of pudding and milk, or a baked potato and salt, were I in the situation of those persons who have just come in, than I would for all your prayers, though you were to stay here all the afternoon and pray. Prayer is good, but when baked potatoes and pudding and milk are needed, prayer will not supply their place on this occasion; give every duty its proper time and place. . . .
Some you will find with their feet frozen to their ankles; some are frozen to their knees and some have their hands frosted. . . . We want you to receive them as your own children, and to have the same feeling for them. [Hafen, Handcarts, p. 139]

Then in a way of the prophets, this great man, Brigham Young, told the bishops to send all of the immigrants for whom accommodations were lacking to his home.

“Sister Sylvia Gaitan was in a four-car freeway accident last week,” explained my Young Men president. “She’s in the Westlake Medical Center, and we need someone to take her the sacrament.”
“Westlake?!” I thought to myself. That was at least a 20-minute drive.
I pleaded for volunteers. One hand went up. “I don’t have a car,” said Russell, “but I’ll go with someone.”
On the way to Westlake, I said to Russell, “Next week we’ll make someone else take this time-consuming drive.”
We arrived at the hospital and wasted a few minutes getting lost. When we finally found Sister Gaitan’s room, my heart fell right into my stomach. Not even five feet tall, she seemed even smaller lying in a giant hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment. Looking at her I immediately felt guilty for having complained.
“How are you feeling, Sister Gaitan?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m all right,” she said, “but I’ll be much better after they perform those two surgeries they keep telling me I need.” I was amazed by how upbeat she was.
Russell and I blessed the small piece of bread we had brought and then blessed the water in her hospital drinking cup. She was so grateful to us for coming. I smiled and said, “We’re just doing our priesthood duty.”
I decided that I would bring the sacrament to her the next week, too. I took Sister Gaitan the sacrament every week until she recovered. Seeing her always made my day brighter.
The brightest day was when I saw her back at church for the first time. I was happy, not because I no longer had to drive to the hospital each week but because she was finally able to take the sacrament with her ward family.
I’m grateful I was able to take Sister Gaitan the sacrament, but I’m even more grateful that she taught me to fulfill my priesthood duties with a smile and a happy attitude.

I would like to tell you about two young girls I know who were shining examples in sharing the gospel. When our daughter Nellie was almost eight years old, our family lived in Switzerland. Nellie was excited to be baptized. Just before her birthday, we had family home evening with our friend Tina. Tina had been taught by the missionaries. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be baptized.
After our lesson we asked Tina to pray. Tina didn’t speak much English, so she prayed in Chinese. We didn’t understand her words, but we felt the Spirit when she prayed.
Later that night Nellie asked if she and Tina could be baptized on the same day. We didn’t know how Tina would feel about that idea. But we all agreed that Nellie should at least call and ask. To our surprise, Tina said yes!
Nellie and Tina were baptized that weekend. Later, Tina told us a wonderful story. She reminded us about her prayer at our family home evening. In her prayer she had asked Heavenly Father to let her know if she should be baptized. When Nellie called later that night, Tina knew that Heavenly Father had heard her prayer.

A few days before the conference, the answer I had been searching for came to me, seemingly out of nowhere. I woke up in the middle of the night, a time when my anxious thoughts usually kept me company. But that night, a phrase echoed in my mind: “Graceful—full of grace.” As I drifted back to sleep, I thought to myself, “Yes, that’s a good point. Being graceful means being full of His grace. I’ll include that in my presentation.”
When I woke again in the morning, the same phrase was there, clear and insistent: “Graceful—full of grace.” I realized then that this message wasn’t just for the people at the conference—it was for me. That was the source of my sadness. That was what I had lost: my physical gracefulness.
As a young girl, I had been a ballerina, dancing through much of my adolescence and into college. I had never thought of myself as graceful, but years of training had ingrained in me a certain physical poise—a way of standing, moving, and balancing. Even after I stopped dancing, that grace remained. And now, in the quiet of those early morning hours, the Lord was redefining the word for me. I no longer needed the physical grace I once had. I had His grace to lean on in my moments of weakness. His grace was sufficient to help me smile, to shift my focus from my limitations to His strength.
Heaven’s message to me was clear: “You no longer need to rely on the physical grace you’ve learned. My strength is made perfect in your weakness.”
Graceful.
It’s a word I now carry with me, not as a reminder of what I’ve lost but of what I’ve gained. It’s not about my grace anymore—it’s about Christ’s grace, filling my heart and mind.
Graceful. It’s a word I now carry with me, not as a reminder of what I’ve lost but of what I’ve gained.

Mike Downey of the Arlington Texas First Ward, Fort Worth Texas Stake, smiled as he listened to his newfound 93-year-old friend talk about turn-of-the-century dating customs. Down the hall, Diane Honeycutt of the Second Ward, and Kelly Molen, a First Warder, listened with interest to anecdotes and memories shared with them by 71-year-old Grace Minor. Twenty-five other young men and women in the stake were elsewhere in the building taking notes and recording reminiscences of members of the local nursing home in Arlington. It was all part of a unique and very successful service project originated by stake clerk (and genealogy enthusiast) David Hedgpeth.
A few days later, each of the 16 nursing home residents was presented with family group sheets, pedigree charts, a cassette recording of his personal history, and a copy of the Book of Mormon. Inside each book was a photograph taken during the interview and the handwritten testimonies of the interviewers. In addition, 42 new genealogy sheets were sent to the Genealogy Department in Salt Lake City and the genealogical section of the Fort Worth Public Library.
The experience was a rewarding one for everyone involved. Said Second Ward member DeAnn Boyer, “It was exciting to see the joy in the older people’s faces when they saw that there were young people who cared about them.” Another added: “The experience made me feel good all over. I learned a lot about real values in life.”
About a month was spent in preparing the questions and interviews. Topics of discussion included such questions as “What have you learned from life that you feel would help others?” and “What special memories do you have of your grandparents and parents?”
“I want to do an interview with my own grandfather,” decided one of the young men after the completion of the project. “I’ll bet he has many exciting stories he could tell about our own family.”

When I returned home from my mission, I did not struggle with pornography; I simply did not have access to it. That changed in the late 1990s, when the Internet became increasingly pervasive. I accidentally stumbled across some pornographic images online, and I returned to pornographic sites over and over again during the following months. The web had ensnared me.
I wanted to reach out to someone for help, but I wasn’t sure whom—or how. How could I talk to my parents about this? How could I admit to my bishop that even though I had made so much progress, I couldn’t stop engaging in this immoral behavior? I desperately wanted to stop, but I was too embarrassed by my weakness to confide in anyone, so I kept my addiction to myself.
I didn’t even tell my wife, whom I married in 2000. I wanted to tell her about my struggle when we were dating, but I was terrified that she would look down on me or, worse yet, refuse to marry me. So I lied. And I continued to do so in our marriage. I found myself being sneaky to prevent being caught. I hid pictures on my computer. When my wife asked me about particular Internet links, I denied knowing what she was talking about. Addictions are like that; they create great liars. I knew it was creating a wedge in our marriage and causing her great pain, but I would not acknowledge that I had a problem. What mattered most to me was not my behavior but how people perceived me.
My double life—and the resulting loss of the Spirit—made me vulnerable to increasingly serious sins, including infidelity. My wife had strong impressions that something was wrong and told me about them. With great remorse, I admitted to what I had done.
That was my lowest point, the point at which I realized that I had to change. Sitting across from me was the woman I loved. She loved me. I had betrayed her. I determined then to do whatever it took to save our relationship and our family.
I began meeting with my bishop regularly in working through the repentance process and Church discipline. He recommended I attend meetings of the addiction recovery program, offered through LDS Family Services. I had never heard of the program. I learned that the group held free, confidential meetings based on the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, adapted into a framework of the doctrines and principles of the Church.
I admit that during the first few meetings, I thought, “I don’t need to be here. I don’t really have a problem with pornography. I can quit any time.” That, of course, wasn’t true.
With my bishop’s encouragement, I continued to attend. My pride began to melt away, and I began to work the steps of the program: honesty, hope, trust in God, truth, confession, change of heart, humility, seeking forgiveness, restitution and reconciliation, daily accountability, personal revelation, and service. For the first time in a long time, I was living a “sober” life, a life free of pornography. Recovery isn’t ever really “over,” but I had been introduced to a new level of freedom. It came because as I participated in the 12 steps, I came to understand what was behind my addiction.
I learned that most people battling addictions have turned to some kind of “self-medication” to fill the voids they feel in their lives. Pain, sorrow, loneliness, fear, or other kinds of discomfort can act as triggers that can entice people to use this self-medication to make them feel better. Some people use prescription drugs. Others use illicit drugs. Others use alcohol. For me, pornography offered the short-term, artificial “quick fix” I thought I needed.
Knowing what triggered my addiction was one thing. Avoiding environments that aided my addiction was another. This stance requires being vigilant 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of my life. I cannot get online “just to browse.” In fact, if I am by myself, I don’t go online at all. I can’t look at an ad and entertain thoughts in my mind. We don’t have cable TV in our home. When I commute to work, I avoid taking certain roads because I know there are billboards along those roads that could trigger inappropriate thoughts. If I start to slip and my mind begins to wander, I turn to my wife, to my bishop, and to prayer for strength.
My addiction affects the most minute parts of my life, but taking these precautions is worth it. I cannot neglect these defenses because I know what my addiction can do to me and to those I love.
It’s not just a matter of avoiding the bad, though. I also must make constant, conscious efforts to turn to the good. Several of the 12 steps have helped me do this by bringing me closer to God.
Every day when I wake up, I get on my knees and thank Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity to repent of my sins and to come to Him through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ. I ask Him to let me know His will so that I can do it. I ask Him to lead me away from temptation. I pray as though I rely on Heavenly Father every minute of the day—because I do—and I keep that prayer in my heart throughout the day. I pray again each night. I also spend some time in the scriptures daily so that I can focus my thoughts on virtuous things. If I don’t make these a habit, I don’t have the Spirit in my life. And left on my own, I am not strong enough to resist temptation.
For a long time I believed I could overcome my behavior anytime I wanted to by my own willpower. But I failed miserably. After a while I got tired of doing it on my own, especially when “on my own” wasn’t working. I realized that I could not do what I needed to do without the Lord’s help. Ether 12:27 helped me understand this better. The Lord told Moroni, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Once I went to Him, still doing all I could do (see 2 Nephi 25:23), I realized that I could do much better and become much more with His help than I ever could dream of by relying on my own merits (see Alma 7:14).
My wife and I now serve as facilitators at the addiction recovery program meetings. She has learned—and is helping others understand—that the Atonement is for not only those who are working to overcome an addiction but also those who have been affected by the addiction through no choice of their own. If we turn to the Savior, His grace can work in all of our lives.
To those who are battling addiction and to the people they love, I can attest that there is hope. There is always hope in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I am deeply grateful to Jesus Christ because He literally saved me from the chains of sin. Addiction is like being held by chains that “bind the children of men, that they are carried away captive down to the eternal gulf of misery and woe” (2 Nephi 1:13). When I realized I was in trouble, I didn’t know where to turn. I was desperate because I could not free myself from my predicament. But the Lord could free me. When I turned to Him, He was there to help.
I can relate with Ammon: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things” (Alma 26:12). I know that God can help us do all things, including overcoming the chains of addiction.

President Thomas S. Monson has spoken recently of “small hinges” upon which the very history of our lives turn (“Choose You This Day,” Ensign, November 2004, 67). A few weeks ago my family and I discussed that thought, and we were deeply humbled to see how the Lord had directed all of our lives.

One married son said, “Had I not been the best man in my older brother’s marriage, I would have missed meeting my future wife.”

His wife responded, “If 15 years earlier my family had not determined to move to Ecuador, where they met your family, they would not have been invited to the reception and thus perhaps I never would have met my husband-to-be.”

How does the Lord sew that kind of life tapestry to bring about such wonderful blessings?

Another son mentioned, “Dad, had you not happened to be assigned to a particular stake conference, you would not have met my future wife and facilitated our meeting one another.”

His wife said, “I just happened to go to that conference, where my father presided that day, instead of my own stake.”

And I must add, how was it that the president of the Quorum of the Twelve happened to assign me to that particular conference that weekend?

My wife and I commented on the fact that had we not felt inspired to move from Arizona to Utah 35 years ago, much of what has just been said would not have happened. We concluded that in many ways our children’s “small hinges” were dependent upon our “small hinges” as their parents.

Of course, as Latter-day Saints we know that all those events are not predestined, but it is the Lord’s loving hand in our lives attempting to bless us with the very best that we can receive.

Forty-one years ago in 1967, my assignment was to be a missionary in a tiny little village called Chacopampa, Bolivia. One companion with me, one little adobe home, an entire city, large fields to cultivate, but very little experience by two faithful missionaries. We learned from the people. We did our very best. Yes, we prayed and sought counsel from the scriptures daily as you did as missionaries, also. But on one occasion, late in the evening, we got a knock on the door of our adobe home. A faithful brother, not a member of our faith but one we had known in the community, was not purely identifiable because his whole face and body were covered in blood. As we opened the door and saw Miguel standing there, we invited him in. We could quickly see that his head had been cut severely, from one ear across his forehead, clear down his neck across the other side, and his scalp was just flopping on his head. We had never seen anything like it before, and didn't know what to do. I'd had a little first aid experience, but the two of us were very dependent on the Lord for guidance, and all we could do was pray for His help. If we hadn't made some adjustment, even prior to that, we probably wouldn't have even had a first aid kit. We opened it, for the first time, and found right on the top a little vile of zylocain to numb the wound. A little, almost like fishing line, to sew up the wound, and that's what we did. We stitched Miguel's head, much like my only experience in repairing a softball, and that's kind of what I did, as we stitched his head and he appreciated that dependency on the Savior that was ours, and his life was saved. Not because of the preparation or experience of two missionaries, but because his future in that first branch of Chacopampa was so critical.

When my daughter ‘Ofa, graduated from BYU–Hawaii few years ago, I asked her the question most parents ask their children when they graduate from college: “Now that you’re graduated, what are you going to do with your life?” She smiled with confidence and said, “What else do you expect? I came here to learn. Now I’m ready to serve. I’m going to serve a mission.” She served an honorable mission in the Auckland New Zealand Mission, and she is now attending BYU–Provo and serving faithfully in her YSA ward.

The story is told of an event that happened in New York when President David O. McKay returned from a trip to Europe: “Arrangements had been made for pictures to be taken, but the regular photographer was unable to go, so in desperation the United Press picked their crime photographer—a man accustomed to the toughest type of work in New York. He went to the airport, stayed there two hours, and returned later from [the] dark room with a tremendous sheaf of pictures. He was supposed to take only two. His boss immediately chided him, ‘What in the world are you wasting time and all those photographic supplies for?’
“The photographer replied very curtly, saying he would gladly pay for the extra materials, and they could even dock him for the extra time he took. … Several hours later the vice-president called him to his office, wanting to learn what happened. The crime photographer said, ‘When I was a little boy, my mother used to read to me out of the Old Testament, and all my life I have wondered what a prophet of God must really look like. Well, today I found one.’”

Pa, my great grandfather was a spiritual Giant in our Aiga or Family. When my father was about 10 or 11, he received a grandfather’s blessing from Pa, Aupiu Savea Moe. That blessing promised my father that if he was faithful in church and kept the word of wisdom, he would have a successful career in sports.
My father said he laughed when he heard the words of that blessing because he was an awkward and uncoordinated child and no one wanted him to play on their team and he would be the last to be chosen while playing at Laie Park. I am the self appointed President of the Jr Ah You Fan Club, which consists of his posterity. He has had a very illustrious career in football.
He has been inducted to ASU Sun Devil HOF and Ring of Honor—as His name Hangs within the Frank Cush Football Stadium, Hula Bowl HOF, Canadian Football HOF, Hawaii State Sports HOF as well as many other accolades.
When my father was inducted in to the Polynesian Football Hall of Fame, he exclaimed in his speech that he “did it” meaning he fulfilled his grandfather’s special priesthood blessing. While playing football in Canada, he also followed Pa’s example by traveling with mission presidents holding firesides and drawing many to the church because of his good works. My parents also held many luaus to help fundraise to build chapels in Quebec.

When our friend Bilbo Baggins felt the call to adventure stir within him, he decided to get a good night’s rest, enjoy a hearty breakfast, and start out first thing in the morning.
When Bilbo awoke, he noticed his house was a mess, and he was almost distracted from his noble plan.
But then his friend Gandalf came and asked, “Whenever are you going to come?” To catch up with his friends, Bilbo had to decide for himself what to do.
And so, the very normal and unremarkable hobbit found himself darting out his front door to the path of adventure so quickly that he forgot his hat, walking stick, and pocket handkerchief. He even left his second breakfast unfinished.
Perhaps there is a lesson here for us as well.
If you and I have felt the stirrings to join the great adventure of living and sharing what our loving Heavenly Father prepared for us a long time ago, I assure you, today is the day to follow God’s Son and our Savior on His path of service and discipleship.
We could spend a lifetime waiting for that moment when everything lines up perfectly. But now is the time to commit fully to seeking God, ministering to others, and sharing our experience with others.
Leave behind your hat, walking stick, handkerchief, and messy house.
To those of us already walking that path, take courage, exercise compassion, have confidence, and continue!
To those who have left the path, please come back, join again with us, make us stronger.
And to those who have not yet begun, why delay? If you want to experience the wonders of this great spiritual journey, set foot upon your own grand adventure! Speak with the missionaries. Speak with your Latter-day Saint friends. Speak with them about this marvelous work and a wonder.
It’s time to begin!
If you sense that your life could have more meaning, a higher purpose, stronger family bonds, and a closer connection with God, please, come, join with us.
If you seek a community of people who are working to become the best versions of themselves, help those in need, and make this world a better place, come, join with us!
Come and see what this marvelous, wondrous, and adventurous journey is all about.
Along the way you will discover yourself.
You will discover meaning.
You will discover God.
You will discover the most adventurous and glorious journey of your life.
Of this I testify in the name of our Redeemer and Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.

In January 1962, when I was six years old, missionaries arrived at my father’s jewelry store looking to replace a tie clip one of them had lost. While there, they heard someone playing the guitar. When they asked about it, my father invited them to come in and meet his friend.
During their conversation, my father and his friend asked the missionaries if they played guitar. One elder said he played a little. My father’s friend passed his guitar to him and asked him to play. He began to play some songs while his companion sang.
The missionaries’ simple search for a tie clip led to my family’s introduction to the gospel of Jesus Christ. We became good friends with the missionaries and began listening to the lessons. The gospel seed was planted, and it began to grow, first in my mother, Elsa, and my sisters, Ana and Stella, and then in me.
Since that day, a love for missionary work has grown in my family. I served a mission, my sons have served missions, and now our grandchildren are beginning to prepare for and serve missions, creating a third generation of missionaries.