Gospel Story Finder

When I was first called as a General Authority nearly 50 years ago, we lived on a very small plot of ground in Utah Valley that we called our farm. We had a cow and a horse and chickens and lots of children.
One Saturday, I was to drive to the airport for a flight to a stake conference in California. But the cow was expecting a calf and in trouble. The calf was born, but the cow could not get up. We called the veterinarian, who soon came. He said the cow had swallowed a wire and would not live through the day.
I copied the telephone number of the animal by-products company so my wife could call them to come and get the cow as soon as she died.
Before I left, we had our family prayer. Our little boy said our prayer. After he had asked Heavenly Father to “bless Daddy in his travels and bless us all,” he then started an earnest plea. He said, “Heavenly Father, please bless Bossy cow so that she will get to be all right.”
In California, I told of the incident and said, “He must learn that we do not get everything we pray for just that easily.”
There was a lesson to be learned, but it was I who learned it, not my son. When I returned Sunday night, Bossy had “got to be all right.”

Consider the experience of Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve. Some years ago, Elder Oaks was living in Chicago when one night he was confronted by a young robber with a gun. Elder Oaks had no money to give him, no watch, nothing of value except his car—and his wife was in the car. Both Elder Oaks and his wife were at great risk. During the encounter, Elder Oaks had an opportunity to grab the gun without the likelihood of being shot. “I was taller and heavier than this young man,” Elder Oaks explains, “and at that time of my life was somewhat athletic. I had no doubt that I could prevail in a quick wrestling match if I could get his gun out of the contest.
“Just as I was about to make my move, I had a unique experience. I did not see anything or hear anything, but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man’s chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also knew that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life.” (See New Era, Mar. 1994, 4.)
How should you react in a similar situation? Who knows? It would be a different time, a different robber, a different place. The point is that Elder Oaks had not conditioned himself to automatically react violently. But he had conditioned himself to listening to the still, small voice. So when the idea of grabbing the gun came to him, he was willing and able to be guided by the Spirit.
It’s also important to note that Elder Oaks had ended up in a dangerous area because he and his wife were taking another sister home from a Church activity. He certainly wasn’t looking for trouble. He had taken reasonable precautions, such as leaving Sister Oaks in a locked car and later making sure the street was clear before going back out to the car.

I was in Stake Conference in the south from here-a little south almost to Utah-in Preston, Idaho. We [were] organizing the stake presidencies and I interviewed probably forty-eight priesthood brethren. Oh, my. Probably fifteen of them can be capable to serve, but I didn't feel good. So [I asked] my companion, Area Seventy Elder Fish, "Do you think we ought to continue to interview?" He said yes we would. The last three persons came in.
The first was the bishop. He was called only six months ago-a young man, forty-one years old, married, three children-and he was a bishop. Before he started talking to us, the Spirit of the Lord told us, told me, this is the man. So I said, "Brother so-and-so, tell me [about] your relationship with the Savior and your relationship with the Heavenly Father."
Tears are streaming down from his cheeks. All those [other] 40, 50, or 60 people, they [were] all wonderful. Wonderful leaders. Capable leaders. But [these were] the first time humble tears came, and he couldn't tell his feelings about the Savior and Heavenly Father. The Spirit born witness to me again, this is the man I have chosen. I almost heard the Lord's voice. So finally he controlled his emotion and then said he has been trying to wake up in morning, early. He has been to the Provo MTC, went to the Barcelona Spain mission and now he's serving and married and [runs a] very successful car and tire business. He said, "I've been doing this to cultivate my spirituality every day."
And I said, "Who taught you how to do so? Your mission president?"
"Yes, he did, but you know that man who came?" He was joking. I'm [in] a serious meeting. "This bald headed guy came and his name was Brother Kikuchi. You are the one [who] shared the Sacred Grove [experience] that I should have. Since that day, I've been doing those things."

I met Regis Carlus for the first time in 1995 in France. He was not a member of the Church. His daughter, Charlotte, was being sealed in the Bern Switzerland Temple the next day, and he had written, asking if he could stop by my office to meet me. He had heard that I often inquired about him, and he was perplexed as to why.

After being called as a General Authority and assigned to serve in the Europe/Mediterranean Area Presidency, I received Mr. Carlus’s request to meet and hoped that he would follow his children into the restored gospel.

When Charlotte’s father was a university student in the 1960s, the missionaries had taught him the gospel. He was drawn to the restored Church and felt the power of the Book of Mormon. He decided, however, that joining a small, American-based church would not help his professional career.

Now, as I greeted Mr. Carlus and exchanged pleasantries that day in 1995, he asked why I had demonstrated such an interest in him.

After praying with him, I told him that these few minutes with him might be the only time in this life that I would see him. I complimented him on his remarkable daughter and son and told him I respected him immensely for raising two righteous children.

Then I spoke to him of the purposes of the Savior in restoring His gospel upon the earth, the role of the priesthood, the importance of family and the sealing power, and the gathering of a covenant people across the world.

I told him I felt that when the missionaries taught him as a university student, his righteous destiny was to join the covenant people of the Church. I asked that he not be offended as we read two verses that I felt applied to him.

Together we read in Alma about those “called and prepared from the foundation of the world … on account of their exceeding faith and good works; in the first place being left to choose good or evil; therefore they having chosen good, and exercising exceedingly great faith, are called with a holy calling … while others would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts and blindness of their minds, while, if it had not been for this [for they were on the same standing] they might have had as great privilege as their brethren” (Alma 13:3–4).

I politely shared with Mr. Carlus that I believed he had been prepared to be with us, and when he refused because of the appeals of the world, the Lord continued to bless him with two choice spirits to be his children. They embraced the covenant path meant for his family. Then I invited him to accept the invitation he had been given 30 years before.

Regis Carlus did not join the Church in this life, but his children had chosen the covenant path, and they have remained on the path.

Donovan aimed his slingshot at the empty soup can on the stump.
He stretched back the slingshot’s rubber tubing.
“What are you doing?” his little sister, Dana, asked.
“Watch this!” he said.
Thwack!
The rubber snapped back into place as Donovan let go, sending the small rock flying. Some leaves in a nearby tree rustled. But the tin can didn’t move. Donovan stuffed the slingshot into his back pocket. He had missed. Again!
Dana tilted her head to the side. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Nothing,” Donovan said. “Come on. Let’s go home.” They started heading back to the house.
Donovan kicked a stick out of his way. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to use Dad’s slingshot right. And he loved that thing! He always liked using it when Dad was out of town working, like now. It helped him feel close to Dad when he couldn’t see him.
He pulled the slingshot from his pocket and spun it slowly in his hand. The rough bark had become smooth a long time ago. Dad had made the slingshot out of a strong tree branch and used it for years before giving it to Donovan.
Dad had pointed at the soup can that day. “When you focus, amazing things can happen.” Donovan still remembered what happened next. Dad had aimed the slingshot and hit the soup can. In one try! He made it look easy. Donovan really missed him.
He was still thinking about Dad when he fell asleep that night.
The next morning, Donovan carried his slingshot to his favorite patch of trees to try again.
“Focus …” Donovan said as he stared at the can on the stump. He placed another small stone in the slingshot and pulled back.
Dad keeps trying, even when things don’t always work out, Donovan thought.
Donovan tried to stop thinking about all the times he had missed before. He closed one eye, the way Dad taught him. He really focused. Donovan didn’t look at anything else but the red soup can.
Taking a deep breath, he let go.
Thwack!
CLUNK!
Donovan blinked in surprise as the can sailed off the stump. “I did it!” he said. “Yes!”
Later that night, Donovan sat next to Mom after dinner. He held up the slingshot.
“I finally hit the can today,” he said, grinning.
“Well done!” Mom said.
“You know, I think this slingshot is my favorite thing in the whole world,” Donovan said.
“Oh?” Mom asked.
“Yup. Because it helps me think about Dad and feel close to him.”
Mom smiled. “I think he’ll be happy to know you feel that way. And guess what? Dad will be home in only three days. You can show him your new skills.”
Donovan could hardly wait! “That gives me an idea,” he said.
He ran to find Dana. He could teach her to use the slingshot the same way Dad had taught him!
“Hey, Dana,” he said. “Wanna learn how to use the best slingshot in Jamaica?”

We receive many prominent visitors in the office of the First Presidency. They include heads of state and ambassadors of nations. A few weeks ago, we entertained the mayor of one of the great cities of the world. We have, likewise, recently entertained the vice president and the ambassador of Ecuador, the ambassador from Lithuania, the ambassador from Belarus, and others. In our conversations not one of these visitors mentioned the great pioneer journey of our forebears. But each of them, independently, spoke in high praise of our welfare program and our humanitarian efforts.
And so as I speak in this great priesthood meeting, I wish to say a few words concerning our efforts in behalf of those in need, be they members of the Church or otherwise, in various parts of the world.
When the modern welfare program was put in motion, it was designed to take care of the needs of our own people. In the years that have followed, thousands upon thousands have been served. Bishops and Relief Society presidents have had available to them food and clothing and other supplies for those in need. Numberless members of the Church have worked in volunteer capacities in producing that which was required. We now operate 113 storehouses, 63 farms, 105 canneries and home storage centers, 18 food processing and distribution plants, as well as many other facilities.
Not only have the needs of Church members been met, but aid has been extended to countless others. Right here in this Salt Lake City community, many of the hungry are fed daily by non-LDS agencies utilizing LDS welfare supplies.
Here, in this city, and in a number of other places, we operate beautiful stores where there is no cash register, where no money changes hands, where food, clothing, and other necessities are provided to those in distress. I believe that no better milk, no better meat, and no better flour is found on any grocery shelf than that which is distributed from the bishops’ storehouses.
The principles on which these establishments operate are essentially what they were at the beginning.
Those in need are expected to do all they can to provide for themselves. Then families are expected to assist in taking care of their less-fortunate members. And then the resources of the Church are made available.
We believe in and take very seriously the words of our Lord:
“Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
“Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me” (Matt. 25:34–36).
This is the Lord’s way of caring for those in need which, He declared, “ye have … always with you” (see Matt. 26:11).
Those who are able voluntarily work to provide for those who are not able. Last year there were 563,000 days of donated labor in welfare facilities. That is the equivalent of a man working eight hours a day for 1,542 years.
A recent issue of the Church News carried the story of a group of farmers in a small Idaho community. May I read briefly from that account?
“It is 6 a.m. in late October, and frost already hangs in the air over the sugar beet fields of Rupert, Idaho.
“The long arms of the ‘beeters’ stretch out over twelve rows, slicing the tops off sugar beets. Behind them, the harvesters thrust their steel fingers into the soil and scoop up the beets, pulling them up toward a belt and into a waiting truck.
“… This is the Rupert Idaho Welfare Farm, and those who are working here today are volunteers. … At times more than 60 machines [are] working in harmony together— … all owned by local farmers.”
The work goes on throughout the day.
“[At] 7 p.m. … the sun has set, leaving the land dark and cold once again. The farmers head home, exhausted and happy.
“They have finished well another day.
“They have harvested the Lord’s sugar beets” (Neil K. Newell, “A Harvest in Idaho,” Church News, 20 Mar. 2004, 16).
Such remarkable volunteer service goes on constantly to assure supplies for the storehouses of the Lord.
Since the early beginnings, the program has moved beyond caring for the needy to the encouragement of preparedness on the part of families of the Church. No one knows when catastrophe might strike—or sickness, or unemployment, or a disabling accident.
Last year the program helped families store 18 million pounds of basic foods against a possible time of need. Hopefully, that time will never come. But the good, wholesome, basic food so stored brings peace of mind and also the satisfaction of obedience to counsel.
Now there has been added another element. It began some years ago when drought in Africa brought hunger and death to uncounted numbers. Members of the Church were invited to contribute to a great humanitarian effort to meet the needs of those terribly impoverished people. Your contributions were numerous and generous. The work has continued because there are other serious needs in many places. The outreach of this aid has become a miracle. Millions of pounds of food, medical supplies, blankets, tents, clothing, and other materials have staved off famine and desolation in various parts of the world. Wells have been dug, crops have been planted, lives have been saved. Let me give you an example.
Neil Darlington is a chemical engineer who worked for a large industrial company in Ghana. Eventually, he retired.
He and his wife were then called as a missionary couple. They were sent to Ghana. Brother Darlington says, “In areas of famine, disease, and social unrest, we were there as representatives of the Church, extending a helping hand to the destitute, the hungry, the distressed.”
In small villages they drilled new wells and repaired old ones. Those of us who have fresh, clean water in abundance can scarcely appreciate the circumstances of those who are without.
Can you picture this couple, devoted Latter-day Saint missionaries? They drill into the dry earth. Their drill reaches the water table below, and the miracle liquid comes to the surface and spills over the dry and thirsty soil. There is rejoicing. There are tears. There is now water to drink, water with which to wash, water to grow crops. There is nothing more treasured in a dry land than water. How absolutely beautiful is water pouring from a new well.
On one occasion, when the tribal chiefs and the elders of the village gathered to thank them, Brother Darlington asked the chief if he and Sister Darlington could sing a song for them. They looked into the eyes of the dark-skinned men and women before them and sang “I Am a Child of God” as an expression of their common brotherhood.
This one couple, through their efforts, have provided water for an estimated 190,000 people in remote villages and refugee camps. Contemplate, if you will, the miracle of this accomplishment.
And now, literally thousands of their kind, married couples, couples who otherwise might simply have lived out their lives in largely idle pursuits, have served, and are serving, in scores of ways and in scores of places. They have worked and continue to work in the impoverished areas of America. They have worked, and still do so, in India and Indonesia, in Thailand and Cambodia, in Russia and the Baltic nations. And so the work expands.
Joining with others, the Church has recently provided wheelchairs for some 42,000 disabled persons. Think of what this means to people who literally have had to crawl to get about. With the aid of selfless doctors and nurses, neonatal resuscitation training was provided to nearly 19,000 professionals in the year 2003 alone. The lives of thousands of babies will be spared as a consequence.
Last year some 2,700 individuals were treated for eye problems, and 300 local practitioners were trained in sight-saving procedures. The blind have literally been made to see.
Where devastating floods have come, where earthquakes have created disaster, where hunger has stalked the land, wherever want has been created by whatever cause, representatives of the Church have been there. Some 98 million dollars in cash and in-kind assistance have been distributed in the past year, bringing such aid to a total of 643 million dollars in just 18 years.
I have been a firsthand witness to the effectiveness of our humanitarian efforts. In traveling the world, I have seen the recipients of your generosity. In 1998 I visited the areas of Central America, which had been ravaged by Hurricane Mitch. Here the distribution of food and clothing was quickly organized, and the cleaning and rebuilding of devastated homes and shattered lives was a miracle to behold.
There is not time to go on recounting the reach of these great and significant programs. In extending help we have not asked whether those affected belong to the Church. For we know that each of earth’s children is a child of God worthy of help in time of need. We have done what we have done largely with the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing. We seek no commendation or thank-yous. It is compensation enough that when we help one of the least of these our Father’s children, we have done it unto Him and His Beloved Son (see Matt. 25:40).
We shall go on in this work. There will always be a need. Hunger and want and catastrophes will ever be with us. And there will always be those whose hearts have been touched by the light of the gospel who will be willing to serve and work and lift the needy of the earth.
As a correlated effort we have established the Perpetual Education Fund. It has come about through your generous contributions. It is now operating in 23 countries. Loans are extended to worthy young men and women for education. Otherwise, they would be trapped in the stagnated poverty their parents and forebears have known for generations. Some 10,000 and more are now being assisted, and experience to this date indicates that with such training they are now earning three to four times what was previously possible.
The Spirit of the Lord guides this work. This welfare activity is secular activity, expressing itself in terms of rice and beans, of blankets and tents, of clothing and medicine, of employment and education for better employment. But this so-called secular work is but an outward expression of an inward spirit—the Spirit of the Lord of whom it was said, He “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38).
May heaven prosper this great program, and may heaven’s blessing rest upon all who serve therein, I humbly pray, in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I have hesitated for a long time, but now I feel I must write to thank you for the wonderful articles in Der Stern (German). One of the articles (“Temples and Work Therein,” Elder David B. Haight, October 1990 general conference) led me to have one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.
I was baptized in February 1991 and received a copy of the January 1991 issue containing the conference report. After reading Elder Haight’s talk, I decided I would be baptized for my deceased mother as soon as I could go to the temple. Later, my mother appeared to me by my bed and told me she would accept her baptism.
I will be eternally grateful to my Heavenly Father for a spiritual experience I shall never forget—an experience that came through reading the magazine.
Erika GiesenGluckstadt Ward, Neumunster Germany Stake

Recently during a special women’s conference, a speaker told about how he’d been quite successful in land development and how everything he’d touched had turned to gold. He’d also tried to live a faithful life and had been a very active servant in the gospel. Then he’d been called as a mission president. He had apparently been a very effective mission president and had subsequently returned to his home state. Throughout his life he’d experienced one success after another—he was a recognized leader in his community, had built a prosperous business. Being called as a mission president had sort of cemented in his mind that he’d “made it”—that he was an all-around success.
When he returned from his mission, a combination of changing interest rates and other business factors caused his once-prosperous business to plummet. In fact, he’d lost nearly everything. Telling the story, this man said, “I realized that I’d become quite boastful—that while I felt I had a testimony of Jesus Christ, in my mind I had brought about all of these wonderful things through my hard work, intelligence, and so forth. But when hard times hit, I began to realize how offensive I must have been to others and to my Heavenly Father to assume that I had brought all of these good things on my own. I felt like I’d lived a life of arrogance and boasting.”

Besides tutoring staff members, David was responsible for many devotionals at D.I.
“One day it was Elder Eves’s turn to give the devotional,” says Sister Scott, another welfare missionary at D.I. “Everyone was there but him. In a few minutes, in he came, walking with his braces. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as he talked to us about overcoming adversity and working with your hand in God’s to accomplish any goal.”

I watched a young student make that connection this semester. After studying the remarkable epistles of the Apostle Paul, she commented to the class:

Paul taught that the grace of Christ will make up for everything that we lack, if we will have faith in Him. During this semester, I was called to teach Gospel Doctrine in my ward. This was the scariest calling for me because I am just not one to stand in front of a class, especially for 45 minutes. But as I prepared for my first lesson, I remembered what Paul said about the grace of Christ. So I prepared everything that I could and then intensely prayed that the grace of Christ would make up for all I lacked. What happened was amazing. It was amazing because it wasn’t me. The spirit was so strong and the lesson was powerful because the grace of Christ made up the difference between my preparation and what needed to be taught by the Spirit. His grace is a powerful gift. It is nothing that we earn.

By the time Kim arrived at his early-morning seminary class, the students had already started singing the opening song, and he knew he was late. He walked in as quietly as possible, trying not to be noticed—not an easy thing to do in a class of 11.
He sat down and joined the others in singing “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” The class sang the song often—very often, in fact. Jessica was the pianist, and “Onward, Christian Soldiers” was one of only two or three hymns she knew how to play.
Scott, who sat next to Kim, caught Kim’s attention during the song and motioned toward Cindee, who was sitting behind them. His gesture drew an angry glance from Brother Barker, the teacher. Neither boy noticed the glare, however, and each turned and stared at Cindee.
Cindee wasn’t the prettiest girl that Scott and Kim knew, but she wasn’t the ugliest, either. She didn’t realize that she sang off key, but Scott and Kim knew. Each shot a knowing look at the other, and then they snickered.
After the prayer and the thought, Brother Barker began a lesson on service.
Kim’s mind began to wander. He looked at his watch and thought about the math test he would have in fourth period. Then he looked up at the poster Brother Barker had displayed prominently in the front of the room:
Painting PartySaturday 8:30Bring a Brush, a Friend,and Old Clothes
Oh yeah, he remembered. Brother Barker had asked the class to help paint a widow’s house.
The discussion about service was over, and Brother Barker concluded the class by talking about the morning’s opening song.
“You know, we sing ‘Onward, Christian Solders’ a lot in this class, and I think that’s good. The song relates to each of us here—as well as to service. I’d like you to think about how it does and about what a Christian soldier is. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
During Brother Barker’s discussion of the song the next day, he read slowly through each verse. Before he read the third verse, he asked the students to pay particular attention and to think what it meant to them:
Like a mighty army moves the Church of God;
Brothers, we are treading where the Saints have trod.
We are not divided; all one body we:
One in hope and doctrine, one in charity.
“You see, we are the Christian soldiers,” he said. “Each of us is important, because we each serve individually as soldiers. But when we are united in our service, when we serve together as a class or as members of the Church, all of our individual efforts are added together and we become, truly, a mighty army working together for the good of others.”
Brother Barker then reminded everyone to come to the painting party and to be united in their service on that day.
The four cars in the church parking lot Saturday morning were enough to grant Brother Barker an overwhelming feeling of success. The vehicles had brought ten of his eleven students and, with them, an exuberant fireball of raw energy waiting to be bridled. The missing student was Cindee, who had left a message with Brother Barker that she was sorry, but she wouldn’t be able to come.
The group said an opening prayer and then drove to an older house, where they gathered on the front lawn and listened to their instructions.
It was a productive morning. There was little wind, and the smell of fresh paint soon filled the air. Gradually the house—once a dirty gray—brightened into a fresh pale yellow.
“How did you do on your test yesterday?” Lynette asked Sue.
“Really well, I think,” she responded. “Most of the questions seemed pretty easy. How about you?”
“I think I did okay, too.”
Their conversation persisted while they worked, floating like driftwood from one topic to the next. It finally landed on the subject of Cindee.
“Hey, where is she, anyway? How come she didn’t come today?” Sue wondered.
“I don’t know; she never comes to things like this,” Lynette answered.
“I think it’s because she’s weird,” Kim piped in. He had been working his way toward Lynette and Sue and had overheard the conversation.
Lynette came to Cindee’s defense. “Oh, come off it, Kim,” she said. “You guys are always so rude to her. I wish you would just grow up.”
Kim yelled to Scott and Jared, who were also still painting. “Hey, Lynette thinks we should grow up. What do you guys think?”
“Yeah, I say we should,” Scott replied, grinning mischievously.
“Me, too,” Jared chimed in.
“There. See how easy that was?” Kim said to the girls. “Actually, I do know where Cindee is—right this minute.”
“Where?” Sue and Lynette both wanted to know.
“She started taking singing lessons today,” Kim joked. He then mimicked an out-of-tune scale, which seemed to trigger the next round of revelry. Several of the group spontaneously began singing, “Onward, Christian Soldiers”—off key.
It was too much for Brother Barker, who had been listening to the last few minutes of the conversation. He came flying around the house still holding a dripping yellow paintbrush. “You come down off those ladders right now,” he called firmly, wielding the brush as if it were a deadly weapon. His students descended quickly, looking sheepish.
Brother Barker singled out Kim, Scott, and Jared. “You three have been hard on Cindee for long enough,” he said with authority. “Do you have any idea how she feels? I want each of you to do something for her or talk to her to find out what she thinks and how she feels—and I’d like each of you to do it by next Friday. Okay?” The teacher gave each of the students a piercing look, pressuring them to respond.
“Okay,” each one said. Kim was the last one to agree.
The rest of the painting party proceeded without incident.
Kim watched the calendar each day, counting the days until his deadline. He knew in his heart that he should follow Brother Barker’s counsel and find a way to apologize to Cindee, but when he tried to picture himself actually doing or saying something, he realized that he just didn’t want to.
And then it was Thursday. Kim had made up his mind that this would be the day. But it was too late.
“Did you ever see Cindee?” Brother Barker asked Kim after the other students had left class.
“Not yet. I’m going to see her today.”
“That might be a little difficult. I got a call from Cindee’s mother last night. Cindee’s grandfather died yesterday, in Baltimore. Cindee and her mother have gone there to stay with her grandmother and to help prepare for the funeral. Since next week is the last full week of school, she told me that Cindee won’t be back.”
Kim felt a sudden wave of guilt for his procrastination. At the same time, though, he felt relief—like he’d been let off the hook.
“Oh, you might be interested in something else she said, too,” Brother Barker went on. “Cindee was in Baltimore on Saturday, reading to her grandfather and keeping him company. Apparently he’d been sick for quite a while, and Cindee’s been visiting him whenever she could. That’s why she couldn’t paint with us—and why she’s missed a lot of our activities.”
Brother Barker let that sink in before he continued. “In her own way, Cindee’s been serving right along with us—maybe even a little ahead of us. We just haven’t known, that’s all.”
Kim left Brother Barker’s class wishing he’d said something to Cindee—but not badly enough to do anything about it.
The following Monday was Memorial Day. Ever since Kim could remember, his family had gone to Arlington National Cemetery on Memorial Day to lay flowers on the grave of his grandfather, who had been killed in World War II. Kim knew that his parents would want to go again this year, but this time he didn’t want to go with them. He had other things he’d rather do, and besides, he didn’t see the purpose of laying a bunch of dumb flowers by a tombstone.
Early Monday morning, Kim’s family rose and prepared for the short drive to Arlington. As soon as the flowers were on the grave, Kim suggested that the family leave for home, but his father wanted first to see the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Kim went along grudgingly.
When they got to the tomb, Kim looked at the uniformed marine ceremoniously guarding the graves of the unknown soldiers buried there. Then he read the inscription on the tomb: “Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God.”
Something about the setting touched Kim, but he wasn’t sure just what. He stood silently for a minute and watched the lone sentry parading slowly and deliberately from one end of the black walkway to the other. The guard stopped at each turn, then began the careful journey back. Everything about him seemed perfect: the spotless uniform, the polished black boots, the smooth cadence of his march. It seemed that the soldier felt no emotions, except that somber look on his face and the reverent spirit reminded Kim of something he had seen when he was ten.
He had had two dogs, Runner and Tank. One day Runner was hit by a car on a seldom-used dirt road and killed. Kim was devastated. Tank was too, apparently; he stood guarding the spot where Runner had died from then until Kim’s dad finally brought him home in the family truck two days later. It was Tank’s only way of mourning a lost friend.
Kim looked up again at the guard, and he thought he understood. This unknown soldier seemed to symbolize a part of the guard which had somehow been lost. His march was a respectful way of saying good-bye to that part of him—a lost friend—“known but to God.”
Kim didn’t talk as the family drove home from the cemetery. All he could think about were the endless rows of tombstones he had seen there, many marking the grave of someone who had died in battle.
Those who died in battle didn’t want to die anymore than I would, he realized. They had hopes and dreams and a family, just like me. How sad that they had to die so soon in their lives.
And then Kim thought about the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
But if it’s that sad for them all to have died, he thought, what about those who fought and died but who couldn’t even be identified so that their families could experience at least some peace?
Kim was quiet the rest of the way home.
That night he lay awake, still unsettled. Several times he tried to picture himself as a soldier; it made him feel vulnerable. They were afraid, too, he realized. Just like I would be.
Something made him think about Brother Barker’s lesson on service.
“We should put ourselves in someone else’s place and think what we would want if we were in their situation,” he had said.
What would I want if I were one of those soldiers? he wondered. Or what if I were an unknown soldier? What would I want then?
He thought for several minutes before he found his answer: I’d want others to understand what I did.
As if on cue, “Onward, Christian Soldiers” began playing in his mind, and he immediately visualized his seminary class. The melody of the song changed, when it reached the chorus, as if someone were singing off key. Kim then saw himself turning, with Scott, to make faces at the girl sitting behind them—Cindee.
He winced a little as he remembered some of the things he and Scott had said about her before she left. He wondered whether she might have been more involved if not for them.
Then it hit him.
He hadn’t even known about what she was doing for her grandfather. Not only was she a Christian soldier but she was an unknown Christian soldier—her many acts of service were known “but to God.”
Kim felt a chill go through his spine. What was it he had thought about unknown soldiers just minutes earlier?
I’d want others to understand what I did, he had thought. Maybe that’s what Cindee had wanted, too.
Kim slept poorly that night.
Brother Barker was surprised by Kim’s request the next morning.
“You want to know how you can reach Cindee now?” he asked his student.
“Uh, yes, that’s right,” Kim replied. “Do you know how I can reach her at her grandmother’s place?”
“No, although I think I could find out, but—”
“Could you please? I’d like to apologize to her,” Kim concluded.
Brother Barker carefully studied Kim’s face for a few seconds, then made a few calls. He finally got Cindee’s number.
“You can call her from here if you’d like,” he said, motioning toward the phone with his head.
When the phone call that morning was for her, Cindee answered it, wondering who it could be.

When I was 21 months old, I was diagnosed with bronchial asthma. Thankfully, my mom is a registered nurse and she takes good care of me. It gets really bad during the winter, and I missed a lot of school. When I entered the third grade, my mom prayed for me and my dad gave me a priesthood blessing. On the last day of school, I was awarded a Perfect Attendance Award. Heavenly Father really answers prayers.

Kristin Campbell of Salt Lake City had no idea she was preparing herself for a lifetime of service when she decided to take a sign language class for her Laurel project. She just wanted to learn for her own enjoyment. But as she practiced with deaf students she began to feel a change of heart.

“For some deaf people, our hearing world is like a different planet where no one speaks their language,” Kristin says. “Working with them, my heart changed from selfishness to really wanting to be able to communicate with others.”

“When I said hi to a deaf student in the hall through sign language for the first time, he got really excited! He started signing fast!” says Kristin. “The look on Bryan’s face was worth any sacrifice. I could tell it helped his self-esteem to know that a hearing person would care enough to learn how to communicate with him.”

Kristin had previously been afraid of Bryan because he attended special classes and sat with an interpreter at lunch. But once she learned how to communicate with him, they developed a unique friendship.

They talked about classes and school. “It’s really hard to communicate names so I never did get his last name,” said Kristin. “We did have Jesus in common, though.”

Gabe King, 15, of Jeffersonville, Indiana, wasn’t exactly looking for a service project. But when he found out about his neighbor’s misfortune, he couldn’t help but act.

While working in his orchard, the neighbor fell out of a tree. He was hurt badly enough that picking the apples himself was impossible. If the apples weren’t picked, he wouldn’t be able to make a living. Gabe organized a group of about ten young women and men to join him in an apple-picking party. They chose a cool day in October and picked all day long to bring in the man’s crop.

“He was very grateful and really happy,” Gabe explains. “He would have lost a lot of money had we not picked his apples. It was a great feeling to know how much it meant to him.”

If you saw Deborah Freeman of Silver Spring, Maryland, your first reaction might be to try to help her. Deborah is orthopedically disabled, and her mobility is limited to a motorized cart. But with a little help, Deborah joins right in to serve others.

For a youth conference service project, Deborah’s stake picked strawberries on the Church-owned Johnson Farm near Kirtland, Ohio. As everyone disappeared into the fields for the all-day project, Deborah was right there with everyone until dirt paths grew too rough and her cart began to stick in the mud.

Fortunately, Ben Tibbets, a high school senior, and Aaron Hill, the youth chairman of the conference, saw the problem and immediately began figuring out ways they could help.

“We surprised her by pushing and lifting her motorized cart through the rough spots so she could help too,” says Ben.

“They put the bucket in my basket and threw the strawberries in it,” says Deborah. “They kept joking around. It was fun!”

Deborah wasn’t the only happy one either. “Service is one of the most fun things we have to do,” says Aaron. “It’s something you can actually do to show love for others and a love for Christ.”

Nathan Skene of Salt Lake City didn’t always know how happy service could make him. The summer after graduation from high school, Nathan really didn’t want to go to youth conference. He would be the oldest there. All his friends were gone, and it didn’t look like it was going to be that much fun. But he went anyway.

The theme for the youth conference was MASH—Modern Army Serving Heaven. His “platoon” was chosen to spend time with a group of mentally handicapped students. The students chose a partner; then each pair took a walk together.

“Terry chose me,” Nathan explains. “Being close to him and seeing what kind of spirit he had opened my eyes to how much I love people and how much I enjoy serving others.”

Nathan’s bad attitude dissolved. And now he sees things a little differently. “My most important goal is to gain a Christlike love for everyone,” he says.

So even though there are hungry children in the world today and homeless people on the streets, don’t get discouraged about helping. Just decide what you can do—and then act. You can make a difference. And even better than that, “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).

When 14-year-old Ken Welty of Centerville, Utah, learned that people in Africa needed food desperately, he decided to raise money for seeds to send to Africa.

First, Ken handed out fliers explaining what he was doing and which seeds needed to be purchased. After checking with seed companies about growing requirements, Ken assembled and sent seed packets for tomatoes, cucumbers, green beans, corn, and other foods to contacts in Mali and Botswana.

The project was a real eye-opener for Ken. “My mom and dad have jobs, and they bring home the food for us to eat,” Ken explains. “It was weird to think that there are people over in Africa who are a lot older than me, but because of my service project I am helping them feed themselves.”

For some kids one night a week of Mutual is enough, but not for Claudine Miller of Sandy, Utah. Besides going to her own Mutual night on Wednesday, Claudine also volunteered to help with her region’s handicapped Mutual every Thursday night.

One of Claudine’s most memorable times with the girls was on “Cinderella Night,” she says. The Mutual girls dressed up in fancy dresses and learned how to put on makeup and fingernail polish. “It really helped them feel pretty,” says Claudine.

Another great experience came when Claudine helped the handicapped Mutual do baptisms for the dead in the Jordan River Temple. “It was really neat,” she said. “The Spirit was so strong!”

Her service project ended up lasting two years, but the time flew by for Claudine. “It made my testimony grow so much to feel their spirit and hear them say thank you and express their love for me,” she says. “When I serve I feel like I’m doing it for Christ, and it makes me feel really good.”

Shannon Welty of Centerville, Utah, is saving the lives of African children—with puppets.

“When little children get sick with diarrhea and vomiting, the parents don’t know it’s dangerous to restrict water,” Shannon explains. “Because their children are discharging liquid they think they have had too much moisture, so they stop giving them food and water. The children end up dying from dehydration.”

Instead of waiting for some international committee to help, Shannon organized a service project to teach African villagers how to treat sick children. She persuaded people in her hometown to donate materials, enlisted elementary school students as volunteers, and spent many hours preparing 13 puppet kits.

The puppets will be used to tell a story about a little boy who is sick with dehydration and how to treat him. Contacts in Mali, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Burkina Faso will receive and translate the kits.

“I couldn’t have imagined I’d be saving lives by making puppets,” Shannon says. “People were asking how I felt saving someone’s life and that’s when it hit me. Service is really Christlike because he saved everyone.”

For excitement, challenge, and diversion, a friend of mine used to hunt mountain lions in the hilltop areas of southern Utah. Among other things, this sport requires personal patience, endurance, and skill, durable horses, and dependable, well-trained dogs. To be effective in locating, cornering, or “treeing” a mountain lion, dogs must be completely dependable from the moment the hunt starts until the capture is finished.
A few years ago when I was visiting with my friend at his place of business, I noticed he had a beautiful hunting dog tied to the outside of his office building. As came close to the dog, I was impressed with his stature, markings, and color. I commented to the owner, “Isn’t he a beauty? How long have you had him?”
“I’ve raised him from a pup. He’s been trained since he was a few months old to track mountain lions. But now he’s got to go. I’m going to get rid of him. He isn’t worth his keep anymore,” he said with a firm and final conviction.
“Why do you want to sell a dog as alert and strong as this one?” I inquired.
To this query the wise owner, a veteran of many mountain lion hunts, said with emphasis, “You know, when I have spent months and months training a hunting dog for these outings, I expect, and demand, one thing. When we’re tracking lions, we’re tracking lions, and that’s it. My dogs, and I usually take about four of them, know this, and if one lets me down, he’s had it. Last time we were out on a hunt, moving into the mountain areas where the lions hide out, this dog was distracted by a jack rabbit and ran after him for more than half an hour.
“Later on the same day he was gone for about an hour chasing a deer. Both of these incidents were indulged in by this disobedient dog despite many months of tedious training. I therefore resolved that when I returned to the city he was no longer to be a member of the hunting expedition. He isn’t worth his feed. He must be sold.”
As I traveled back to Salt Lake City alone by automobile later that day, my thoughts turned to this experience with a master’s comment and decision about one of his dogs. The dog had lost his usefulness because he had forgotten his training and the purpose of the hunt. He could be distracted, diverted, and led in wrong pursuits.
Similarly in our daily lives we sometimes forget our goals and purposes and let distractions, interferences, and temptations lead us away from the charted courses we have been trained to pursue. It is to be hoped that we will stay close to our Master, heeding His teachings and avoiding situations that tend to lead us away.
Lofty standards of behavior will always be based upon a love for the right and walking in paths of righteousness. Wickedness in any form will never lead to happiness. We must be aware of those who will deceive and have us believe there is no heaven, there is no hell, and that the only road to happiness is marked with compromise, convenience, and momentary pleasures or pursuits. Satan is real, and he is effective. He would throw men down by his cunning. He would have all mankind strangers to God. Let us not be deceived. God lives, and through him and with him we can accomplish all things. We must not permit ourselves to become entangled in the sin of compromising our standards, but rather we must learn to avoid all the ways of Satan. His paths lead to disappointment, frustration, and regret.
We compromise our blessings, we rationalize ourselves out of the sure and eternal ways when we do not ask our God to help us continue in his paths. Often a disciple of God can best be identified by the paths he travels.
“If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed;
“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:31–32.)
The Lord has promised us that he will help us in our pursuit of happiness if we will continue the quest for righteousness and follow his paths. The abundant life will be ours if we walk with his strength. If we will remember and practice the Savior’s teachings every day, Satan can have no power over us. God’s strength makes it possible for us to walk uprightly. Ammon in his comments to his brother Aaron in the 26th chapter of Alma, verse 12 [Alma 26:12], points to paths of life that bring security and insulation from devilish desires.
“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; … for which we will praise his name forever.”
Our continuing pursuit of happiness will bring us our Heavenly Father’s strength and protection. In his paths we will find security. My constant prayer is that we will all have the desire in our hearts to earnestly seek the pathways of safety by honestly keeping all of his commandments.
Let us not forget the lessons learned from my friend who taught me well about what is necessary in worthy mountain lion hunting dogs and from a God who knows well his children. Let us not forget our goals and purposes, and let not distraction, interferences, or temptations lead us away from the charted courses we have been trained to pursue.

Many years ago our young family was going to see a movie for family home evening. We were all in the van except for one of our sons and my wife, Valerie. It was dark outside, and as our son threw open the door and ran toward the car, he accidentally kicked what he thought was our cat on the porch. Unfortunately for our son and my wife, who was right behind him, it was not our cat but rather a very unhappy skunk, who let them know it! We all returned to the house, where they both showered and washed their hair with tomato juice, the supposed sure remedy to eliminate the skunk odor. By the time they had cleaned up and changed their clothes, we were all desensitized to any odor, so we decided we were OK to go to the movie after all.
Once we were seated at the back of the theater, one by one the people around us suddenly decided to go out to get popcorn. When they came back, however, no one returned to their original seat.
We have laughed as we’ve recalled that experience, but what if all of our sins had an odor? What if we could smell dishonesty, lust, envy, or pride? With our own weaknesses revealed, we would hopefully be a little more considerate and careful of others and, likewise, they with us as we make the needed changes in our lives. I actually love the smell of tobacco in church because it indicates someone is trying to change. They need our welcoming arms around them.

I recently learned another significant lesson from my father about his love for me. A few weeks ago the state 3-A basketball championship was being played on a Saturday night in Ogden. I was on Provo High’s team, which was to play Mountain View High School for the championship. After the first quarter the team met for a huddle. As I got up off the nice soft chair I had become accustomed to, my eye caught sight of my mom and dad sitting on the front row. This might seem insignificant to you, but I was thrilled because in Provo that same night was one of the most important events of the year. It wasn’t my father’s inauguration or the annual commencement exercises. It was the BYU-University of Utah basketball game. But Dad left that game, as well as several General Authorities and other dignitaries he was hosting, to come to my game. That demonstration of love meant so much to me, not because my game was more important, but because I was more important. Is it any wonder I want to show that love in return? We do have a bond, not just as father to son—but friend to friend as well.

We had Mrs. Jacobson over for Christmas dinner last year. I now have someone to visit with when I feel depressed, like the other day when I went out with Dave and I spilled spaghetti all over and felt like climbing under the table. I told Mrs. Jacobson about that, and she told me about how once when she was dating her husband, he came to visit her one evening. She thought he was coming a half hour later than he did. He came to the door while she was in her room. Mrs. Jacobson’s sister invited him in to sit down and started to go up the stairs to announce that he was there. Mrs. Jacobson came out of her bedroom door, intending to go downstairs and borrow a necklace. She started singing a song and was halfway down the stairs when she saw the young man grinning up at her. I guess everybody does things like that sometimes.

I unloaded my purse, and there on the bottom with my boarding pass, was an issue of the Ensign.
Illustration by Allen Garns
As I entered the airport on my way home from a visit with old friends, I felt discouraged that I hadn’t shared the gospel on this trip. I always carry a Book of Mormon in my purse to remind me to pray for someone I can give it to, but too often it stays in my purse. This trip was yet another miss.
I took a deep breath and prayed a silent apology. I felt like a terrible member missionary.
As I shuffled through the security line, I felt prompted to speak to the woman ahead of me. We chatted about our destinations and then separated to different lines. As I headed toward my gate, however, I saw the same woman. “Oh, hi again,” she said. “Good to see you!”
I asked her when her flight was leaving. “Oh, not for hours—I’m early.”
“Well, come and sit with me!” I said.
I still had 45 minutes before my flight boarded, so we sat at my gate and talked about our work. I mentioned some of the writing I do for Latter-day Saints, and suddenly she lit up.
“You’re a Mormon?” she asked. “I’ve been wanting to know more about Mormons. How can I get a copy of the Book of Mormon?”
“Well,” I said, opening my purse, “I have one right here.”
“Oh, my,” she said. “I think maybe we were supposed to meet today.”
Gratitude flooded my heart. When she asked what makes Latter-day Saints different from other religions, I felt guided in what to say.
I told her I’d have the missionaries contact her, and then boarding was announced. I opened my purse to get my boarding pass but couldn’t find it. I unloaded my purse. There, on the bottom with the pass, was a general conference issue of the Ensign! I gave it to her and thanked the Lord that I had to search for my boarding pass. She mentioned that she usually brings reading material with her but felt she shouldn’t this time.
“Maybe it’s so I can read this,” she said. With my boarding pass in hand, I gave her a hug and said good-bye.
Now we talk each week, and she tells me about her visits with the sister missionaries. It has been a year, and I hope to someday see her baptized. I don’t know if that will happen, but I still marvel at the workings of Heavenly Father to help our paths cross. I thank Him for hearing my prayer and granting me the simple opportunity to share a Book of Mormon.

Tonight I have with me an old envelope. I know it’s old because the postage is only six cents, and that means it was mailed a very long time ago. On the back of this envelope are directions to a destination.

It belonged to a young couple in their twenties and newly married. They were romantic and idealistic and optimistic about their future. He was in graduate school. She taught high school to support the two of them. One bright autumn day in New England they took a picnic lunch out to Walden Pond, near Boston. For those of you who love literature, you’ll remember that Walden Pond and Henry David Thoreau go together. Like Thoreau they chose this location to think and ponder about their future. The question they had come to consider was this: What should they do with the rest of their lives?

They wanted a road map for the future. They had a new marriage. It was a promising partnership. The future stretched out before them, and they wanted to make the very most of it. They talked of what to do and where to live. They talked about the children they wanted to have. They wanted to develop talents and share what they had been given. They wanted the world to be better because they had lived in it. They wanted to serve God always.

They were goal setters, so after a very philosophical afternoon and lots of discussion, they wrote down on the back of an envelope a list of goals and hopes and dreams that they intended would set the tone for the rest of their lives together. They drove away from that beautiful, serene setting with hope and optimism and the envelope.

The practical, routine, daily things of life took over. The envelope was soon forgotten. They got caught up in life. They prayed often and worked hard, and they served others. They started their family and finished graduate school. He worked at his career. She worked at being a young mother. They served—both in their Church and in the community. They had more children. Life got busier and busier. They didn’t think about their Walden Pond envelope much at all. Things weren’t so philosophical anymore, but they were happy. They were very happy. They just kept trying, with each choice they made, to see which path God wanted them to take.

Many years passed. They faced trials—some of them were very hard ones. There were a variety of challenges—some of them could have broken their spirits. They were middle-aged, and they plucked gray hairs and watched their waistlines expand. They moved to a new city, where the husband was hired for a very responsible job.

One day, in the process of the move, she found among some long-forgotten papers the Walden Pond envelope. It was old and yellowed. On the back was the list of goals made by the young newlywed couple so many, many years before.

As she read down the list, tears came to her eyes. The years since they had spent that long-ago afternoon at Walden Pond flashed by. As her eyes focused on each item, she realized that most of the goals on the list had come to pass. Interestingly enough, her husband’s new job was the fulfillment of the final notation they had made at Walden Pond. It was time now to get a new envelope and make a new list.

I was one of the 13. My dad was not ready for baptism at this time. The missionaries were still teaching him because he was not ready to let go of his family’s traditions. He was born a Baptist and he said he’d die a Baptist. Our mother said, “I’m going to wait for your dad.” So, she was not baptized with her children.

Well, my dad, died at the age of 98. He was buried fully clothed in the garment of the holy priesthood and his sacred temple clothing. He was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, May 31, 1979. He promised my mother he would marry her in the Temple. They were married and sealed in the Mesa Arizona Temple June 7, 1983.

My dad struggled with accepting the Book of Mormon because he had been taught all his life, that the Bible was the only true word of God.

As he continued to read the Book of Mormon for himself, through the power of the Holy Ghost, he came to know the Book of Mormon as another testament of Jesus Christ.

Because my dad continued to pray and study the Book of Mormon, the power of God strengthened him to overcome his family traditions and other personal challenges that held him bound from accepting the restored gospel.