Gospel Story Finder

My father and mother believed firmly in the principle of work, and they saw to it that their six boys had plenty to do.
Although I was the youngest in our family, I had my share of jobs around the house and yard. To make sure I wouldn’t run out of work and to help me develop a sense of responsibility, Father had some chicken coops and runs built in our back yard. He filled these with a flock of about fifty chickens, and my responsibility was to feed and water the chickens, keep the coops clean, and gather eggs.
In the summer I gathered lawn clippings and put them to dry on the roof of the chicken coop. When they were dry, I put them in bags. Then in the winter I emptied these clippings into pans, poured hot water over them, and fed them to the chickens.
By giving the chickens such good care, we had more than enough eggs to supply the needs of our family. Father told me I could have the extra eggs to sell and could use the money for my own needs.
I found the neighbors were glad to have good fresh eggs, and I soon established an egg route with regular customers. These customers became my good friends. This was the beginning of many happy associations that have lasted for years.
Although I was only a young boy when I started in the egg business, I felt pretty grown up having my own money to spend. I also earned some extra money by doing errands and odd jobs for people in the neighborhood, and Father paid me for helping on the ranch in the summer. So I began to save what seemed to me to be a lot of money.
My parents had taught me about tithing. They told me that tithing is giving to the Lord one penny out of every dime I earn, or one dime out of every dollar. They also taught me that tithing is a commandment of our Father in heaven, and paying tithing is a good way for us to show our love for Him and our appreciation for all the blessings He gives us.
At the end of the year I took my tithing in a big envelope filled with nickels, dimes, and small bills to the bishop for tithing settlement. I still have the tithing receipt (it was then called a Bishop’s Store House receipt) that was given to me when I was eight years old. It was for $7.50 and was dated December 31, 1908.
I am grateful that I had a father and mother who taught me as a young boy the joy of work and the importance of paying tithing. I am sure that many of the blessings I have enjoyed throughout my life have come to me because I have been obedient to the law of tithing.

Recently I was privileged to meet a modern-day pioneer, a beloved daughter of God and recent convert to the Church in Chile. She is a single mother with two young sons. Through the power of the Atonement, she has been enabled to put her past behind her and is now earnestly striving to become a true disciple of Jesus Christ. As I think of her, a principle taught by Elder David A. Bednar comes to mind: “It is one thing to know that Jesus Christ came to earth to die for us—that is fundamental and foundational to the doctrine of Christ. But we also need to appreciate that the Lord desires, through His Atonement and by the power of the Holy Ghost, to live in us—not only to direct us but also to empower us.”13

As this Chilean sister and I discussed how to stay on the path leading to eternal life, she enthusiastically assured me that she was determined to continue on the path. She had been off the path most of her life, and she declared that there was nothing “out there” off the path that she wanted to have back in her life again. The enabling power of the Atonement is living inside of her. It is being written in her heart.

I nearly had a heart attack when I watched my eight-year-old son step to the edge of the cliff and peer down. The sheer drop-off was just one of many we had passed on our hike. I held my two-year-old son in one arm and held on to my six-year-old son with my other hand. Unable to keep my two hands on all three wandering boys, I decided this hike had been a mistake.
The trail wasn’t strenuous, but I found myself exhausted from worrying about keeping my boys safe and always herding someone away from a dangerous ledge. It was beautiful country, but I was grateful when the nerve-racking hike was behind me.
At least I thought it was behind me.
Some weeks later, I had a vivid dream. My three boys had climbed to the top of a cliff. As they stepped to the edge, I felt powerless to keep them safe. Any of them could make a choice at any moment that would lead to a deadly fall. I cried out to God in fear.
I awoke with my heart pounding. I rolled out of bed to pray that Heavenly Father would protect my sons—not from a physical fall but from a spiritual one that now felt just as real.
The Spirit prompted me to open the Pearl of Great Price. His guidance took me on a spiritual journey through the story of Enoch (see Moses 7:21–67). As I read, I realized that our Heavenly Father watches us make choices that could lead us over the ledge toward spiritual death. With my dream fresh in my mind, I now had a better understanding of how hard it must be for Him to watch us make such choices (see Moses 7:28).
But I realized I could not ask God to keep my boys from falling without asking Him to take away the agency He had given them. For a brief second, I understood the draw of Lucifer’s promise that he would save everyone, including our loved ones (see Moses 4:1). But Satan’s promise was deception because it would “destroy the agency of man” (Moses 4:3). And Heavenly Father knew that if we were to become like Him, we must be able to choose to obey Him (see Moses 7:32–33).
I was stunned as I considered our Father’s unwavering commitment to our agency in spite of what it must have cost Him personally (see Moses 7:37). But where did that leave me? Was I really powerless to do anything to help them?
As my own soul ached for my children (see Moses 7:41), the Spirit whispered to me to lift up my heart and be glad (see Moses 7:44). I kept reading and was struck by the following words: “I am Messiah, the King of Zion, the Rock of Heaven, which is broad as eternity; whoso cometh in at the gate and climbeth up by me shall never fall”1 (Moses 7:53; emphasis added).
This climb was what I had just dreamed about! This promise of safety is what I had just prayed for. When I looked at our mortal journey as a climb, I realized my boys were going to slip and fall. We all do. I did. That’s why I wanted to protect them; I was afraid that if they fell off the rock, they might be so hurt that they wouldn’t want to get back up.
But as the Spirit continued to teach me, I realized that the experiences I’d had in turning back to the Savior after my falls had changed me. They created in me an appreciation for what Jesus Christ had done for me. It’s what bound me to Him now. That experience is invaluable, but it is only possible when we are free to choose to turn to Him again if we have chosen to turn away.
I now understood that I couldn’t keep my boys from making choices that would lead to a fall. But I could help them learn to recognize good choices, and I could teach them whom to turn to, not only when they made bad choices but in all things.
Nephi’s metaphor of a path helped me know how I could help my boys learn to turn to Him: “Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life” (2 Nephi 31:20; see also verse 19).
Whether we are talking about clinging to an iron rod or to a climbing rope, the safety I wanted to provide my boys is found in being connected to the Savior by relying upon His word. Instilling in them a love for the scriptures and the teachings of living prophets can give them what they need to press forward—or upward—even if they slip and fall.
Ten years later, I still worry about my boys—and now their younger sister—getting too close to the edge. It’s no less exhausting than it was to chase them from ledge to ledge on that harrowing hike. But I find peace in knowing that following Christ can keep us from falling and that His power can rescue us if our choice leads us over a ledge.

Problems are not unique to our times. Look at the life of President Zina D. H. Young, the third general president of the Relief Society. She was bright, observant, and deeply religious. Even so she suffered sickness, trials, tribulations, and sorrows. She witnessed the burning of the homes of the Saints in Nauvoo before the exodus. Her father and mother both died as the result of persecutions against the Mormons. She had two children by her first marriage. Then, later, she married Brigham Young and raised four of his children along with her two and one daughter born to them.

President Brigham Young gave Zina the mission of establishing the silk culture in the territory of Deseret. The silkworms were extremely repugnant to her, but in spite of that she successfully completed that assignment. Her love of the Lord and her determination to follow the direction given by the prophet made it possible for her to do what she was asked to do, and I am sure that she had to develop some special strengths in order to be able to do it.

As our sons grew up, I was able to fulfill my dream to do home teaching with each of them. What an experience that was. One day, when Mahonri was about 17 years old, he came to me and asked my opinion about the Branch President's interview with him and the call that he would receive as Young Men's President. I told him that that was not a common practice in the Church to call a young man to be a Young Men's President. However, the Branch President is entitled to revelation for his members. He finally was called as Young Men's President. We continued to be home teaching companions.

We visited an inactive family for many years. There were two inactive young men in the family. When we made our visit, Mahonri came with two roles, a home teacher and a Young Men's President. As Young Men's President he told his inactive friend that he would come to his house and pick him up on his motor bike for Church. I saw one Sunday he and his friend on his motor bike coming to Church for the first time. It didn't take long until his friend decided to come by himself because actually our house and his are quite distant. Now this young man has completed his mission, almost at the same time Mahonri completed his.

My first assignment was the Ashtabula Ward, part of the Kirtland stake. On our way to my first area, my companion, Elder Shawn Patrick Murphy, and I stopped at the Newel K. Whitney store in Kirtland. Today there is a large visitors’ center there, but at the time it was a small place. I remember walking up the stairs to the room above the store where Joseph Smith held the School of the Prophets. I knew little of the history of the place, but I still felt something distinct as we entered that plain room with its simple wooden benches.
The director of the center was a former mission president, President Brewer. As he spoke about this place where the Brethren studied and learned together, I felt the Spirit deeply. I began to see the role Kirtland played as a hinge point in the history of the Church.
In the early 1830s, Independence, Missouri, was identified as the site of the New Jerusalem. The Saints had begun to settle there. But they were then forced out because of differences with other Missouri residents and opposition to the Saints’ beliefs. In 1834, Joseph organized a group of about 230 men, women, and children, later known as Zion’s Camp. They were to travel 900 miles (1,450 km) from Ohio to Missouri to help the Saints regain land they had legally purchased. The journey was not successful in getting the land back, but it created a setting that helped prepare many future leaders of the Church, including Church Presidents Brigham Young and Wilford Woodruff.
It wasn’t just the preparation of leaders that was important. The sanctifying effect of Zion’s Camp prepared a people who were willing to sacrifice to build a temple.
In Kirtland, the Prophet received revelation after revelation about the organization of the Church, all in preparation for what would be the crowning achievement—the building of the temple.1 And sacrifice literally brought forth the blessings of heaven.2 The Saints were so poor they could hardly afford the necessities of life. Yet they consecrated their time, talents, and possessions—the very covenant we make in the temple today—to build the house of the Lord.
Today the Kirtland Temple is owned and maintained by another church—the Community of Christ. When a guide from that church took us through the building, I felt the Spirit as he quoted from journals of those who witnessed marvelous events at the temple’s dedication. These events included seeing angels and the temple seeming to be ablaze with light.3 The Spirit confirmed to me that this had indeed been a house of God.
I served in the Ashtabula Ward for seven months. Almost every preparation day, we took those we were teaching to visit the Newel K. Whitney store and talk about the Kirtland Temple. Many times we recited the inspiring account of Christ’s appearance at the temple:
The Lord Appears in the Kirtland Temple, by Del Parson
“His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun; and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:
“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father” (Doctrine and Covenants 110:3–4).
In addition to the Savior, others also visited the temple—Moses, Elias, and Elijah. They committed to Joseph keys for the gathering of Israel, the dispensation of the gospel of Abraham, and temple and family history work. (See Doctrine and Covenants 110:10–16.)
Because these visitations are so significant, I think we sometimes overlook the significance of other things that also occurred. In the dedicatory prayer, Joseph Smith addressed the Lord God of Israel, “who keepest covenant and showest mercy,” and pleaded with the Lord to “accept the dedication of this house unto thee, the work of our hands, which we have built unto thy name” (Doctrine and Covenants 109:1, 78).
By appearing in answer to that prayer, Jesus Christ, as the mouthpiece of God the Father, showed that He accepted His house, the ordinances that would be performed there, and the covenants that would be made there. That acceptance has been granted to every temple that has been dedicated since then, as well as to the covenants made and ordinances performed in those temples.
In the dedicatory prayer, Joseph also specifically asked the Lord to bless those who served in presidencies, as well as their families. Today, those blessings are extended to Relief Society presidents, quorum presidents, Young Women presidents, stake presidents, mission presidents, and so on. (See Doctrine and Covenants 109:71.) Then Joseph asked the Lord to “remember all thy church, O Lord, with all their families … that thy church may come forth out of the wilderness of darkness, and shine forth” (Doctrine and Covenants 109:72–73).
Joseph sought specific blessings for presidencies and their families, for members and their families, and for the Church as a whole. We regularly witness the fulfillment of those blessings as the Church shines forth as a light in the darkness.
The dedication of the Kirtland Temple exemplifies for me three basic truths:
We are blessed when we prepare for the temple. The Saints had to prepare for the Kirtland Temple to be built. They had to sacrifice, purify themselves, and develop willing hearts. We need to do the same to become more ready to receive blessings the Lord has for us.
We can receive revelation in the house of the Lord. The visions given to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery in the Kirtland Temple provided guidance, direction, and understanding. On a personal level, we can also find inspiration when we go to the temple seeking answers.
We can find refuge in the temple. In a time of persecution and poverty, the Saints in Kirtland found that the house of the Lord was a sanctuary from the worries surrounding them. The same is true for us today.
Over the years, I have found that the things I learned about the temple as a young missionary in Ohio have blessed my family and me. For example, in the temple a year after we were married, my wife, Amy, and I received an impression that it was time to have a child. We were students, and because of tight finances I was tempted to cast the prompting aside. But the Lord was preparing us.
We had three miscarriages over the next two years, and I wondered, “Why the prompting to have children if we’re not able to have them?” Then we moved to California, worked with a fertility specialist, and finally had our first child, Mackenzie.
By following the inspiration we received in the temple, we began a process that took three years. If we had not followed the prompting when we did, it would probably have been at least another three years before we had our first child. We count that experience as a blessing of preparation and revelation.
We had a second child, Emma, but then we had another miscarriage and the loss of our son, Stewart. In subsequent months and years, as we sought peace, we learned that most of the symbols in the temple point us to the Savior and the healing balm only His Atonement can give.
I am grateful for the blessings of the temple. I testify to you that it is a place of preparation, revelation, and peace.

Elder Oaks illustrates this with the following story.

“Some modern pioneers receive their tests at bedside. One sister wrote: ‘my mother cared for her mother until [Grandma] was ninety-eight. My dad now has Alzheimer’s disease, and my mother patiently cares for him. . . . The amazing part of this is the attitude of my mother. She always thought she would travel after she retired. She has always kept a beautiful home, loving to entertain others. She maintains her home as best she can, but has had to put aside many things that bring her joy. The amazing part is the joy my mother radiates. Her attitude is so beautiful. She finds real joy in the simple things of life. She is the pillar of strength to the whole family as she uplifts us all with her positive attitude.’ ”

While preaching the gospel in Ohio, Lorenzo had a dream one night in which he saw an angry mob attacking him in a schoolhouse. He awoke frightened and prayed for the Lord to protect him as he preached the gospel.
Later that same day, two well-dressed men came to Lorenzo and asked him to come to a schoolhouse where a crowd was waiting to hear him preach. Remembering the dream, Lorenzo refused to come. The men tried harder and harder to get him to come, but Lorenzo would not. The men finally left, shouting angry words at him. Lorenzo soon found out that they weren’t really wanting to hear him preach. Instead, they and a group of other men were waiting to attack Lorenzo at the schoolhouse.

Simone has other favorites too. He loves animals and always wanted to have a pet of his own. Not long ago, his dream came true! “My brother and I got two dogs!” he said with a smile. “We named them Birba and Quinzia.” Birba (which means “naughty”) is a small basset hound; Quinzia is a boxer.
Simone and his brother, Emanuele, love to play with the dogs and take them for walks around their neighborhood. Of course, having pets also means taking care of them. But Simone’s mother, Christina, says that he is very willing to do that. “He also helps with other chores around the house,” she adds, “and because I work outside the home, that is very important to me.”

On my third day in the hospital, my neurologist requested an MRV (magnetic resonance venography) of my spinal column and brain, looking for a tumor or blockage. At 4:00 a.m. two days after I woke up blind, I began a five-hour MRV. In preparation, my family planned to pray and fast for me that morning. My father, who slept by my side on a bench each night in my hospital room, gave me another blessing—the second of several blessings I received.

When a hospital technician asked if I wanted to listen to music during my test, I asked for songs from my favorite singer. The tech placed a set of rubber earphones into my ears and pinned my head down with a facial mesh to hold me in place. In the process, he bumped the headphones nearly out of my ears. I could barely hear any music as the MRV began.

The longer the procedure took, the hotter I felt inside the tubular imaging machine. After what seemed like forever, I was told I was doing great and to keep going a little longer. But I felt scared and distraught from the heat, loud sounds, and constraints holding me still.

In silent prayer, I cried out: “Heavenly Father, please comfort me. I’m so alone. I need Thy help. I need my family.”

Immediately, a soft piano chord echoed in my ears. It was from one of my favorite songs—one that my younger sister, Morgan, plays on the piano. I would not have expected to hear it from the loose earphones over the noise of the machine. It seemed like Morgan was with me, and I wasn’t alone. The noise went away. The heat went away. The claustrophobia went away.

I felt out of my body, like I was floating on a sea in space. I felt surrounded by God’s love and by my family’s love. Just like that, I was calm. It was 7:30 a.m., the time my family started fasting for me. The rest of the five-hour MRV passed in an instant, and then I heard, “You’re done.”

The love I felt from that experience left me in tears and eased the weariness I felt during the rest of my stay in the hospital. I didn’t know if my sight would return, but I knew that God was there and had heard my prayer. After four days in the hospital, I was released.

When our children were small, my wife Mary and I decided to follow a tradition which my father taught when I was a child. He would meet with each child individually to help us set goals. Then he would teach us how church, school, and extracurricular activities would help us achieve those goals. He had three rules:
We needed to have worthwhile goals.
We could change our goals at any time.
Whatever goal we chose, we had to diligently work towards it.
When our son, Larry, was five years old, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said he wanted to be a doctor like Uncle Joe. Larry had experienced a serious operation and had acquired great respect for doctors, especially his Uncle Joe. I told Larry how all the worthwhile things he was doing would help prepare him to be a doctor.
Several months later, I asked him again what he would like to be. This time he said he wanted to be an airline pilot. Changing the goal was fine, so I explained how his various activities would help him achieve his new goal.
Almost as an afterthought I said, “Larry, last time we talked you wanted to be a doctor. What changed your mind?” He answered, “I still like the idea of being a doctor, but Uncle Joe works on Saturday mornings, and I don’t want to miss Saturday-morning cartoons.” Since that time our family has labeled a distraction from a worthwhile goal as a Saturday-morning cartoon.

Years ago, I enjoyed being alone and deciding things for myself. I was an introvert and I liked it that way. I considered the people around me to be merely associates because I preferred being alone.
Then one day some family members and I were driving home, and we ended up in a freak accident. After a visit to the hospital for some stitches and X-rays, we headed home. Although our car was totaled, we were grateful to only have minor cuts and bruises.
A couple of weeks later, after trying my hardest to remember how the accident happened, I started thinking. This was my fault. I must have done something wrong. I must have forgotten to do something. My mind was inundated with possibilities like, what if I had died? Was I really ready to leave this world? What if my family had died? Yes, they were sealed together, but I wasn’t sealed to them, what would happen then? I was comforted with the knowledge of our Heavenly Father’s plan of eternal families.
I realized it didn’t necessarily mean I had done something wrong. It just meant that I was looking at the picture the wrong way. I needed to look more closely at my life and recognize the fact that I am still here for a reason. This accident confirmed my love for my family because if I were asked to give my life, I would have easily replied, “Yes, for all my family.”
Why do I feel so strongly? Because I believe in families, that they transcend this life. I understand their worth, as well as my worth in their lives on earth and throughout eternity.
Years later, am I now an extrovert? Absolutely not. Some days, some conversations, some hugs, are better than others. I’m still a work in progress. However, one thing remains the same.
What I believe in is what I want—an eternal family. President Russell M. Nelson shared, “Our family is the focus of our greatest work and joy in this life; so, will it be throughout all eternity.”1 An end result that displays our Savior’s love for us.

A number of years ago a basketball player from the Midwest played for Utah State University. He was a nonmember. He was disrespectful, dishonest, and often unkind to most of the people he met. His teammates reported that, as the team traveled to Salt Lake City, Provo, and Albuquerque, he would steal items in the dressing room, stores, or restaurants. He would steal almost anything he could get his hands on. He had little, if any, respect for the young women he dated. He would take from them their self-respect, as easily as he would steal items from store owners.

After he had used his eligibility, he returned to the Midwest and went into correctional work. After being gone for several years, he returned to Logan. “What does he want now?” several that remembered him asked. He went into the stores in Cache County, paying the merchants for what he had stolen. He called the women he had dated, and when he could find them he apologized for what he had done to them and with them. He did the same in other cities where he had played basketball.

After doing what he could do to make right his wrongs, he returned to Chicago. Soon an obituary told of his untimely death. What motivated that great change? What brought him in tune with life and morality? Apparently he had been touched by the Spirit.

We must practice restitution whenever we possibly can. I know sometimes it is not possible. We all have done things we need to change, restore, and alter if we can.

President Grant’s boundless faith that the Lord would prosper those who were liberal with their means in building his kingdom has had a distinct effect upon my life. Many years ago I heard him tell about attending a fast meeting at which his bishop made an appeal for donations. President Grant, though a very young man, had fifty dollars in his pocket which he intended to deposit in the bank. But he was so impressed by the bishop’s appeal that he tendered the whole fifty dollars. The bishop took five dollars and handed him back the forty-five, stating that five dollars was his full share. President Grant replied, “Bishop Woolley, by what right do you rob me of putting the Lord in my debt? Didn’t you preach here today that the Lord rewards fourfold? My mother is a widow and she needs two hundred dollars.”

“My boy,” queried the bishop, “do you believe that if I take this other forty-five dollars you will get your two hundred dollars quicker?”

“Certainly,” replied President Grant.

Here was a demonstration of faith which the bishop could not withstand. He took the remaining forty-five dollars.

President Grant testified that on his way from that fast meeting back to work, “an idea popped into” his head, acting upon which he made $218.50. Speaking about this incident years later, he said, “Someone will say that it would have happened anyway.

“I do not think it would have happened. I do not think I would have got the idea, …” he said.

“I am a firm believer that the Lord opens up the windows of heaven when we do our duty financially and pours out blessings upon us of a spiritual nature, which are of far greater value than temporal things. But I believe He also gives us blessings of a temporal nature.” (Improvement Era, Aug. 1939, p. 457.)

Some couples wonder about physical limitations, but not Keith and Jennilyn Mauerman of Utah, USA. Years ago, four months after they were married in the Los Angeles California Temple, Keith was drafted and sent into combat. An airborne squad leader, he was walking ahead of the other soldiers when a land mine exploded. He lost both legs. When he arrived back home, Jennilyn rushed to his side.
“I knew I didn’t have to worry,” Keith says, “because we have an eternal marriage. My wife has supported me all along. She still sustains me every day.”
When Sister Mauerman retired, they decided to serve a mission. But would Elder Mauerman’s being a double amputee cause a problem? “There are always things I can’t do,” he says, “but there are so many things I can do, we knew there would be a place for us.”
While completing their recommendation forms, he checked a box indicating he had served in the military. Soon they received a call from Church Military Relations. “I had an ID card that would allow us to enter military bases, so they asked our permission to recommend us for a military relations mission.”
The Mauermans were called to serve at a military base in North Carolina, USA. Elder Mauerman recalls: “The sign at the gate said ‘Fort Bragg, Home of the Airborne.’ When the guard greeted us with the airborne motto ‘All the Way!’ it was the first time I had heard it in years. It felt like home, even though I had never been to Fort Bragg. I knew our mission call was a perfect fit and that the Lord is mindful of me.”
“We taught lessons about becoming self-reliant and resilient and about strengthening marriage,” Sister Mauerman says. “Initially we didn’t want to share our story, but we found that sharing it made all the difference. Soldiers and their spouses looked at us and said, ‘If you can do it, we can too.’”
The Mauermans had such a positive experience in North Carolina that they asked to serve again. Today they travel about 40 miles (64 km) from their home in Orem to Salt Lake City two times a week to serve in the Church Military Relations office. They also teach senior couples at the missionary training center in Provo, where they find that just about every group includes somebody who has overcome obstacles in order to serve.

William Warner Major was a miniaturist, an artist who painted photograph-sized portraits. He and his siblings met the missionaries in London. All were baptised within a week of each other. Thus started a journey from London to Nauvoo, then on to Winter Quarters in Nebraska, then the Great Salt Lake Valley, and back to London, where Major died serving his third mission.
After his death, William’s missionary companions, William Henry Kimball and James Marsden, wrote a history of their friend. Recent research has uncovered a three-page journal and five letters written by William. Furthermore, since William sketched portraits of numerous pioneers, his endeavours were noted in their personal journals. From these sources emerge the story of a devoted leader and his faithful wife, Sarah Coles Major.
William and Sarah were baptised on 10 April 1842.
After the Marylebone Branch in London was created on 27 July 1842 by Elder Snow, the first meeting of the branch was held in William and Sarah’s apartment. After less than four months of membership, William was called to preside as branch president.
The Kimball and Marsden History recorded that, “Elder Major was ... ordained an elder, and sent on a mission to preach the gospel in Reading, Berkshire [...].”
On 11 February 1844 William, Sarah and son, William Jr., set sail on the Swanton. They had lost two children, Henry and Fanny, before this time. After they arrived in Nauvoo, William functioned as an official artist for the Church. He was commissioned to paint portraits of Church leaders to be hung in the Nauvoo Temple.
On Friday, 8 April 1853 general conference took place. President Heber C. Kimball stood at the pulpit and announced, “We have a number of elders who are chosen to go on missions.” He read the list of names, which included William Major, called to go to England.
On arriving in London, William settled in an apartment with other missionaries. In October 1854, William H. Kimball wrote his father, President Heber C. Kimball:
“On the 2nd inst., I went to see W. W. Major who has been ill for seven weeks, and at 7 o’clock last evening he departed this life, notwithstanding great faith and exertion on his part, as well as by many others. His last words to me were that he was not discouraged and wished me to administer to him. To the last his faith was good, and he desired to return to the Valley.”
So many of the Saints were buried at sea, or left in shallow graves crossing the plains, but William’s body was transported across the ocean, up the Mississippi River, stored for six months, then placed on the boat called Alma on the Missouri River and sent to Mormon Grove, Kansas. Such was the great love and respect the pioneers had for their leader and friend, William Warner Major.
More information on the life of W. W. Major can be found online at: sites.google.com/site/jkmajor/home.

Like intramurals, devotionals played an important part for me in college. I remember attending weekly devotionals with a group of my friends. It was a blessing to step away from my studies and refocus on other eternal priorities. I was partially motivated to attend devotionals because of one of those eternal priorities…Linda, whom I was often able to see and sit next to at devotional. It's a curious thing what the power of love will do to you.1 Yeah, that’s right. I see you sitting with your “friends” too.

Linda and I met during my first week of college in the summer right after graduating high school. We were in the same ward for only two weeks before her housing contract expired. She then had to move to housing in a different ward boundary, but those two weeks were just long enough for us to connect and start to become BFFs.

I remember the first time I saw Linda. It was a Sunday night at our ward prayer. Our ward gathered together for a musical number, to say a prayer together, and meet our FHE groups. She played the violin for the musical number. She couldn’t see me, but I totally connected with her while she was playing. The power of love was so strong it practically made me want to sing,1 but then I remembered I can’t sing. I also remembered hoping that we would be in the same FHE group. It was destiny. The Bishop must have been inspired because my apartment and her apartment were assigned to be in the same FHE group.

As we all introduced ourselves that night to each other as FHE brothers and sisters, I tried to impress her by doing a backflip. However, I under-rotated during my backflip and belly-flopped on my face. At first, I thought love was cruel1 to me by letting me land on my face, but then I realized I still won 1st place for Linda’s attention. I quickly forced myself to recover so I could play an ice breaker game with my FHE group. We all stood in a circle facing in and put our hands in. Everyone had to then hold random hands and try to untangle without letting go. Yes, I made sure to reach for her “random” hand to hold.

Needless to say, despite belly-flopping on my face, the connection was mutual enough to keep hanging out with each other. Over the next 12 months, Linda and I did a lot of fun activities and became besties. We spent a lot of time hanging out and doing activities that didn’t need money,1 like cooking our roommates’ food, dancing, riding my tandem bicycle, playing at the park, and talking and listening.

We both knew my priority was to prepare for and serve a mission, so we kept things cool and just had fun getting to know each other. We weren’t really a thing, but kind of a thing. We went on dates with each other as well as with other people. The only time I remember holding her hand for the next four years was when we played the ice breaker game that first day we met. We didn’t know what the future held for us, but we knew we really liked each other. Through her friendship, she helped me strengthen my spiritual foundation and lifelong conversion to the Lord.

Over the next three years, we didn’t see each other because we both served missions (First me in Korea and then Linda in Denmark). We stayed in correspondence through old-school letter writing. I returned home a year before she did. After Linda returned home in 2004, we finally reconnected. Obviously, things went well. We had found the power of love. It had gotten a hold of us and with a little help from above1 we were engaged, married, and sealed in the Idaho Falls temple.

Linda is an amazing woman. She is full of love. The love I have for her is tougher than diamonds and stronger than steel1. It strengthens every day.

Fast forward back to the present, 22 years after first meeting. In November, we will celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary. We have five children. As the Family Proclamation says, we (Linda and I) together have the “solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for our children. Children are a heritage of the Lord.”2 Our children are each so unique and special. It is an amazing responsibility we bear to love and care for them.

A few years ago, I was interviewing missionaries. A winter storm was blowing in as missionaries came and went throughout the day. The storm changed from icy rain to snow and back again. Some missionaries arrived by train from nearby cities and walked to the church through the storm. Others rode their bicycles. Almost without exception they were cheerful and happy. They were the Lord’s missionaries. They had His Spirit and felt joy in His service regardless of their circumstances.
As each companionship concluded their interviews, I will never forget watching them go back out into the storm to preach the gospel and do what the Lord had called them to do. I could see their commitment and dedication. I could feel the love they had for the people and for the Lord. As I watched them leave, I felt an overwhelming love for them and for what they were doing.
Later that night I attended a priesthood meeting in the same city. The storm had continued and was now mostly snow. During the opening song, the branch president of the smallest and farthest branch and his two missionary counselors, Elder Warner and Elder Karpowitz, came into the chapel. As they got ready to sit down, these two wonderful missionaries took off their winter hats and gloves. They took off their outer coats. Then they each took off a second winter coat and sat down. Like the missionaries earlier in the day, despite the weather these missionaries were happy. They felt the Spirit of the Lord in their lives. Through service in the Lord’s cause, they felt a certain love and warmth and joy that are difficult to describe.
As I watched these great young missionaries that evening, I had a remarkable experience. In my mind’s eye, I saw missionaries throughout the mission going out into that winter night. Some were knocking doors and facing rejection as they sought to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some were in homes or apartments teaching individuals and families. In spite of the conditions they faced, they were doing what they could to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ to those who would listen, and they were happy. Into my heart came a feeling that I cannot fully explain.
By a wonderful gift of the Spirit, I felt His love, the pure love of Christ that He has for faithful missionaries everywhere, and it changed me forever. I understood how precious each missionary is to Him. I caught a glimpse of what prophets would describe as the “greatest generation of missionaries” the world has ever known (see M. Russell Ballard, in Conference Report, Oct. 2002, 50; or Ensign, Nov. 2002, 47). I began to understand why it was necessary to raise the bar so that missionaries everywhere would be entitled to the protection, direction, and happiness that accompany the Spirit of the Lord. I also began to understand why—as parents, bishops, stake presidents, and other leaders—we must do everything we can to help the young people of the Church become worthy of the blessings of missionary service.

“I love to write about the things I love. One night I wrote about my horse, Missy. I had been having a hard time keeping her in the pen. The dogs were barking, so I went out to check on Missy, and she was out. It was a beautiful night with lots of stars. I could see her clearly, and she stood quietly while I put the halter on. I started to cry, I was so disappointed. It was like I was seeing how my parents feel when I disobey. I just hurt inside because I don’t like to tie her up. I explained that to her, and I felt she understood me and was sad that she had disobeyed. I forgave her and told her how much I love her. I know that my Father in Heaven loves and cares about me and how I feel. I am grateful to have Missy to help me learn the things I need to learn in life. I am grateful Heavenly Father has given me the family that he has and am grateful for each one of them and all they have done for me.”
Camille KenisonNephi Utah Stake

Example #2:
My family and I were converted to the Church in Alabama when I was young. I attended Primary about a year before I became a deacon. We went to church occasionally until I was a teacher, then after that I fell into in-activity. Family night, family scripture reading, personal scripture reading, singing primary songs, was all foreign to me, but not to some of my close LDS friends. Luckily, I was able to get reactivated in the church my senior year of high school and came to BYU. Being around so many Mormon’s who grew up in the church was strange to me at times. At the end of the first semester, I went to tithing settlement. After tithing settlement, I stopped by my FHE sister’s apartment to say, “Hi.” I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and had just come from my first ever tithing settlement with the Bishop. When they found this out, they all laughed and said that my appearance was a “No no.” I should have been dressed in Church clothes. I was so embarrassed. Up until that moment I had been so pleased with myself that I had attended my first tithing settlement. However, what others saw from their perspective, was an irreverent individual who went to his interview in shorts and a T-shirt. Their perspective was correct, it was not appropriate dress, but their judgment was not. The Bishop and the Lord had a different perspective, they were glad I was coming to church and had gone to my first tithing settlement, regardless of my clothes.