Gospel Story Finder

Marcella frowned as she tried to wiggle her toes in her shoes. The shoes were too small and they hurt, but she knew she shouldn’t complain. At six years old, she knew there was no money for new ones.
The past year had been hard for the Nelson family. In May, Marcella’s tiny baby sister had died of pneumonia. And just six weeks later, her father, Eric, had been killed in an accident at work. How she missed her gentle father.
Now Marcella’s mother was struggling to support her two young daughters with her sewing. Even though she was a skilled seamstress, there wasn’t enough money. The kitchen cupboards in their small home were practically bare. No, bigger shoes just weren’t an option right now.
“Time for breakfast,” Mother called. Marcella struggled not to limp in the tight shoes as she walked to the table.
“Oh, honey.” Her mother knelt at her side. “Those shoes are too small for you, aren’t they?” Marcella could hear the worry in her mother’s voice.
“A little.” Marcella tried to sound unconcerned. “It’s all right.”
“You’re trying to be brave,” Mother said gently. “But I can see they hurt. I will try to get you some new ones soon.”
“I want new shoes too!” piped up little Arvella.
Their mother picked Arvella up in a big hug. “You know your shoes are just fine,” she said. Arvella’s shoes were hand-me-downs from Marcella. They were worn, but at least they fit properly.
Arvella stuck her bottom lip out. “I want new shoes, too,” she repeated obstinately. Marcella and her mother smiled at each other. Arvella didn’t understand their difficult position, and somehow her innocence made them feel better. They talked and laughed as they ate breakfast and cleaned up.
Suddenly Mother became serious again. “Girls,” she said slowly, “we need to go to town today. I have $2.50.”
Marcella couldn’t believe it! That was a lot of money in Utah in 1905. “That’s great!” she exclaimed. She imagined the food they could buy to stock their empty shelves. Maybe she could even get new shoes!
Marcella’s smile faded when she saw the tears in her mother’s eyes. “We owe $2.50 for tithing,” she said softly. Then she gathered her girls around her. “I know we are almost out of food. I know that you need new shoes so badly, Marcella. But if we want the Lord to bless us, we must keep His commandments.”
Then she pulled out her worn Bible and turned to Malachi. She read to the girls the Lord’s promise that if they paid tithing, the windows of heaven would open to them.
“What does it mean that the windows of heaven will open?” Arvella asked.
“It means that Heavenly Father will bless us,” Mother said. “It says that we will receive such a great blessing that there won’t be room enough to receive it. I know that we need the Lord’s blessing now more than ever. I believe His promise.”
“I believe it, too,” Marcella said.
“Me too,” Arvella chimed in.
“Oh, you are good girls.” Mother pulled them close. “Let’s pray together, and then I am going to take this money straight to the bishop.”
The girls and Mother knelt. Mother asked Heavenly Father for a way to get more food for her little family and shoes for Marcella. After the prayer, they all wiped tears from their eyes. Then, with a smile, Mother said, “Let’s go pay our tithing, girls!”
They walked the short distance to the bishop’s house and gave him the tithing. Although her feet hurt, Marcella enjoyed the walk and the good feeling in her heart. She knew Heavenly Father would bless them.
As they approached their home, they saw Uncle Silas and Aunt Maud pulling up. Both girls ran to Uncle Silas, and he swung them high into the air.
“Hello, Sarah,” Aunt Maud said, giving Mother a quick hug. “We just came to see how you and the girls are doing.”
“Well,” Arvella said seriously, “Marcella’s shoes are too small, but we paid our tithing and it will be fine.”
“Arvella!” Her mother gave her a stern look. “We’re fine, Maud. How is your family?”
They all went into the house and chatted pleasantly. Marcella quickly took off her tight shoes and put them away. She noticed her aunt and uncle looking around the house carefully. Aunt Maud even opened a cupboard as she visited. Too soon, their visitors had to leave.
Later that afternoon, Marcella was surprised to hear a cart outside. It stopped at their home, and a delivery boy came to the door. “A delivery for Sarah Nelson,” he said.
“That’s my mother,” Marcella said.
“But I didn’t order anything,” Mother objected.
Suddenly Uncle Silas appeared in the doorway next to the boy. “It’s for you, Sarah,” he said gently. “You can put everything here on the table,” he directed the delivery boy.
The boy brought in bags of food. The girls danced around the table in delight. They hugged Uncle Silas, who quickly excused himself to go home. There was so much food! Sugar, beans, flour and cornmeal, cured meats and dried fruit—the cupboards would be full! Last of all, the delivery boy brought a small package wrapped in brown paper to the table.
After the delivery boy left, the girls approached the small package. What could be inside? First Marcella and then Arvella shook it. Then Marcella carefully pulled back the paper. Into her lap fell not one, but two pairs of shoes! Marcella picked up the largest pair and put them on. They fit perfectly, and she happily wiggled her toes in complete comfort.
Then she saw Arvella’s face. Her sister had picked up the second pair of shoes and was staring at them in delight. She looked at her mother in wonder. “I thought you said I didn’t need shoes, Mama,” she said questioningly.
“Your old shoes would do,” her mother said through her tears. “But when Heavenly Father opens the windows of heaven, you never know what might pour down.”

Born with a complex congenital heart defect, Jacob is the veteran of three heart surgeries and numerous medical tests, with many more surgeries anticipated. His doctor frequently comes to Idaho, but for Jacob’s surgeries and some tests, we must travel to Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City. These trips are often filled with anxiety and worry about Jacob’s health, and we have found that a trip to Temple Square helps calm our nerves and reminds us of Heavenly Father’s plan and of our need to trust in Him.
The night before Jacob’s most recent and most complicated surgery, we took him to the Temple Square visitors’ center, where we sat together looking at that glorious statue of the Savior—the Christus. Peaceful, warm, and safe in a parent’s lap and not wanting to leave, Jacob sat uncharacteristically still and kept asking to stay for “just five more minutes,” until our time there stretched past an hour. When at long last we needed to leave, we all felt at peace and ready to cope with whatever the surgery would bring.

Nathan eventually grew up and left on a mission. In one of his first letters home he declared, "The mission is hard, but the only way I'm coming home early is in a body bag!" Talk about commitment. He was all-in. It was a proud "DAD" moment for me.

My son was essentially declaring, "I'm willing to give the ultimate sacrifice for Christ." Meaning, I am willing to sacrifice my life to teach His gospel. He had a simple focus of being present on the mission.

Here is a list of some of his first goals set in the mission field.
Stay awake in All meetings on Monday.
Use the last study time right.
Don't go home for the next 23 months.
Make meaningful goals tomorrow night.

As we can see, goals don't need to be complicated to execute a plan. They just need to be real. The more plain and reasonable a goal is, the better!

Recently I became aware of several old and tattered musical instruments that were headed for disposal. Were it not for the saving hand of a caring musician friend, several instruments would right now be in the landfill. While I personally saved all of the instruments that I thought had value for future restoration, I clearly overlooked at least one in the pile. To my surprise a traveling friend, with different expertise than mine, was able to identify at least one last "diamond in the rough" instrument and he targeted it for immediate restoration. He labored intensively on the instrument stripping away the old finish, cleaning all the small pieces, and replacing the broken parts. When he showed me the instrument after his labor, I could not believe the change. Here I had witnessed, in a relatively brief time, a major value transformation of a seemingly worthless instrument. It was all because the right person with the right knowledge saw the intrinsic value and was prepared act at the opportune time. He not only saved it from disposal but turned it into a sort of pearl of great price.

Michael Molling, 12, from Orem, Utah, was selected to be the young Vincenzo. For Michael, being cast was a pleasant surprise. He and a friend had been handed a flyer in the local shopping mall. He went to the studio, filled out a card with his name and address, and had his picture taken. He was called to come back for another picture-taking session, then received a phone call telling him he had the part.

“They called and said I got the part,” Michael explains. “After I hung up I ran and did somersaults and jumped all over the couch. I was happy.”

For his scenes, Michael had to learn to quote scripture in Italian. And he had to learn to put up with makeup and old-fashioned shoes several sizes too big as part of his costume. “The hardest thing,” says Michael, “was memorizing the words. When I would start to talk, I would start moving my knees, and the director would have to tell me to not move my knees. I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

One of Michael’s scenes is in a schoolroom with other boys his age. These boys are extras, called in to dress in costume and fill up the rest of the desks in the background. Erika Anderson, 18, is working as extras’ coordinator for the film, and it is her job to see that the boys are where they should be when they should be. Erika is rather young to have such an important position, but she’s been working in films for several years. Her father, David, is a film distributor and producer, and Erika has had a chance to work in different ways on films since she was 10.

“The first thing I ever did,” says Erika, “was be an extra. Then I worked on a commercial shoot in New York. I was a production assistant. My dad was in charge, and I helped run errands and time the shots.” Erika was recommended for the BYU film job, and Peter Johnson, the producer of the film and director of the Motion Picture Studio has been pleased with her work. “She shows such integrity in her work. She’s always there, always on time. We give her instructions, and she does what we ask. We never have to follow up with her.”

Erika has learned a lot about the importance of doing a good job. “What I’ve known all along is whenever a job is given to me, I have to get it done because someone is expecting me to do it. If you don’t hold your end up, everything can fall apart. I learned that at 13, so I’ve been practicing for a while.”

As extras’ coordinator, Erika describes her job this way, “When there are kids, I’m in charge of the kids. When there are adults, I’m in charge of telling them where to go and getting them all there and getting them committed to do it. It’s really hard, but it’s rewarding to see it all come together.”

Erika’s first thoughts after being told that they needed 250 extras for the scene in the marketplace outside the temple at Bountiful was, “Where am I going to find 250 extras on a Tuesday?”

Erika and her supervisor, Kathy Bessinger, casting director, did find them. They sent the call out to wards in Salt Lake and Orem areas. Then buses were arranged, lunch and dinner ordered for the crowd, and makeup and wardrobe people alerted. On this Tuesday, they had the crowd of extras they needed to shoot the scene.

Russ Holt, the director and screenwriter, explains how the project was initiated. “It started with President Benson’s call to the membership of the Church to increase their study of, interest in, and use of the Book of Mormon. It really originated with that.”

As the director, Russ has worked with a group of professionals that have translated the script into beautifully photographed scenes on film. Russ explains, “There are times when as a scriptwriter you envision this scene, and when it finally gets on film, it surprises you because it’s better than you imagined. Take the scene at the dock at Palermo, Italy. I thought we were going to do a simple little scene, but the art director, the cameraman, and others had a concept of what that could become, and they turned that scene into something gorgeous.”

Making the film has been a huge undertaking, lots of hard work and long hours. Because a film is produced in bits and pieces and then put together in the editing room, the actual day-to-day work is often not highly charged emotionally. Peter Johnson, the producer, explains, “We are magicians in the film business. The process that you see is not glamorous, and it’s not that emotional. When it’s all put together, then it reaches you.”

In this age of video, Peter also explains that seeing a movie about the Book of Mormon in no way replaces the experience of actually reading it for yourself. “You cannot replace through watching television or motion picture the actual one-on-one experience that you have with the Lord when you are reading scripture. That cannot be duplicated. I hope that the work that we do stimulates people to have a desire for that personal experience like Parley P. Pratt and Vincenzo Di Francesca had with the Book of Mormon.”

I was nearing my seventh birthday when we went to Grandma’s house. I ran into the house yelling, “Grandma, we’re here!”
“Aren’t you excited?” she asked. “This is your present.” She was sitting at a table with a nearly finished porcelain doll that she had made to look like me! It had brown hair and blue eyes like me. It was in a white dress. She explained that the white dress was to help me prepare for my baptism in a year. The doll was holding a bouquet of flowers, which she explained were the colors of the Young Women values.
The white dress was for faith, the blue flowers for divine nature, the red flowers for individual worth, the green leaves for knowledge, the orange flowers for choice and accountability, the yellow flowers for good works, and the purple flowers for integrity. She said that she is going to give me a new doll each year representing these value colors to help me prepare for Young Women.
I wore a dress very much like the doll’s to my baptism!Krystel A., age 8, Utah

When my bishop announced that volunteers were needed for the Nauvoo Illinois Temple open house, I was ecstatic. My assignment was putting on and removing foot coverings from visitors’ shoes so the temple floors would stay clean. As the day went on, I wasn’t thinking too much about the importance of what I was doing. I didn’t really think of it as service. But one visitor completely changed my outlook.
As I had done a thousand times that day, I leaned over to take the coverings off someone’s shoes. When I looked up, looking back at me was a woman with a sweet, warm smile on her face, tears welling in her eyes. She gently remarked, “This has always reminded me so much of washing someone’s feet.” She thanked me for the service, and she walked on.
Her words stayed with me. Every time I put on or removed the coverings after that, I thought about what she had said. She made a connection between what I was doing and something Christ did. Her words helped me to start seeing others in the way that the Lord sees each of us. I began to recognize in the people I met their incredible, divine worth. I finally knew what it was like to really want to serve others.

One Sunday morning Ho-jik Kim was teaching a Sunday School class when the president of Korea, Syngman Rhee, sent his secretary to get him. Dr. Kim was the vice minister of education at the time, and President Rhee wanted to discuss an important matter with him.

Arriving at the LDS meetinghouse, the secretary found Dr. Kim in Sunday School and urged him to go at once to see the president. Brother Kim said he could not leave until he had taught his Sunday School lesson.

Afterward, when Brother Kim met with the president, he was criticized for being late. Dr. Kim explained to the president the importance of his calling as a Sunday School teacher. President Rhee, realizing how much the Church meant to Dr. Kim, patted him on the shoulder and said, “Chalhaeso!” (You have done well!)

Eleven-year-old Eduardo Dourado knows what he would do—nothing. Although some of his schoolmates make fun of him for keeping the standards of the Church, he chooses the right and refuses to fight. “I could beat them,” he says, “but I don’t want to hurt anyone. Sometimes I’ve had to protect myself, but I try other things first to keep from fighting.”
As Jesus taught, Eduardo ignores insults. But it isn’t always easy. Because he won’t swear and do other bad things, kids make fun of him. Sometimes he feels lonely. But he knows what Jesus wants him to do, and that is what he chooses to do.

In 1972, I was in US Navy boot camp in San Diego, California, USA. I had been “set back,” which means I had failed my training—personally and publicly. In fact, I had been set back twice. Now I had to start over with a new company.
I suffered from attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and a form of high-functioning autism. Reading was difficult for me, which hurt my scores. To make things more difficult, my father passed away while I was in boot camp.
The only thing that made me feel good was attending church. One Sunday, in the middle of bearing my testimony, I felt prompted by the Holy Ghost. The words I then spoke were not mine. The still, small voice came to me in a whisper, directing me in what to say.
“You are looking at a recruit who has been set back twice,” I said. “No one wants to fail, and no one wants to fail twice in a row. But being set back is not so bad. The navy is not trying to discipline or punish us. Being set back helps a recruit learn what he hasn’t learned or may have forgotten. There can be no graduation without changing or improving. I bear my testimony that we must all be set back before we can go on to our greatest achievements and successes in life.”
I did not think much about what I had said until a month later. During our next fast and testimony meeting, a blond-haired recruit came to the pulpit.
“Last month I was not making my scores. I was failing,” he said. “My company commander said it would be best for me if I was set back. In my new company, I thought of myself as a failure. I was ready to give up. But then I remembered the guy who was set back twice and what he said. So I kept trying.”
Then the recruit repeated the same words the Holy Ghost had put into my mind. Someone I had encouraged and strengthened was now encouraging and strengthening me.
In October 1972, I rejoiced when I graduated from the US navy boot camp, thankful for edification and encouragement from the Holy Ghost and from a fellow recruit.

Although they lived in town, where Henry’s father was a businessman, the family owned a fruit farm several miles from Provo. Elder Taylor recalls that “for several years we moved to the farm for the summer. Father would travel by bicycle or horse and buggy to his work at the Taylor Brothers Company. We learned to spray the fruit trees, to irrigate them, and to harvest the fruit. Night irrigating was a cold, unpleasant task, and it discouraged us from wanting to become farmers.
“Mother gloried in farm life. She had a beautiful garden and enjoyed picking the various kinds of vegetables and fruits when they were ripe. In the evening she delighted in walking along the brow of the hill and in admiring the magnificent sunsets. I suppose from her enthusiasm most of us children developed an appreciation for sunsets and other beauties of nature.”

Thanks to Scout training and quick thinking, a tragedy was averted in Charlotte, North Carolina. Todd Smith of the Charlotte Second Ward saved the life of a five-year-old after the youngster was hit by a car.
The child was riding a tricycle when a slow-moving car hit him and knocked him unconscious. Todd saw the accident and after telling his mother to call for help, he ran to the little boy. Todd found that the child’s tongue was blocking his throat. Todd cleared the child’s air passage and helped stop the bleeding from a head wound. Todd also prevented anyone from moving the child until the rescue squad arrived, in case there were any back or neck injuries.
Todd received a Medal of Merit and was honored for his quick action.

Some years ago there was a news story about a man who believed that if he rubbed lemon juice on his face, it would make him invisible to cameras. So he put lemon juice all over his face, went out, and robbed two banks. Not much later he was arrested when his image was broadcast over the evening news. When police showed the man the videos of himself from the security cameras, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “But I had lemon juice on my face!” he protested.3

When a scientist at Cornell University heard about this story, he was intrigued that a man could be so painfully unaware of his own incompetence. To determine whether this was a general problem, two researchers invited college students to participate in a series of tests on various life skills and then asked them to rate how they did. The students who performed poorly were the least accurate at evaluating their own performance—some of them estimating their scores to be five times higher than they actually were.4

This study has been replicated in numerous ways, confirming over and over again the same conclusion: many of us have a difficult time seeing ourselves as we truly are, and even successful people overestimate their own contribution and underestimate the contributions that others make.5

After high school, I decided to serve a mission. But I had some unexpected medical problems that kept me from leaving when I expected to.
I had to be patient, but I was eventually called to the Mexico Guadalajara East Mission. There, I taught many amazing people and even helped some of them be baptized. But even with my faith, obedience, and hard work, none of them stayed active in the Church.
Often, life events are out of our control. I couldn’t instantly solve my medical problems. And I can’t force others to live the gospel. But I can trust in the Lord’s timing and way.

“In Primary Melissa and I aren’t in the same class, but sometimes our teachers let us sit together during opening exercises and Sharing Time. I like Primary. One of my favorite lessons that I learned in Primary was from a talk that one of our leaders gave. She said that once when she was little and had gone out trick-or-treating, some teenagers took her bag of candy away from her. Her brother saw how sad she was and gave her his bag of candy. I thought that was a good lesson.” And it’s a lesson that Marnie Payne lives by.

During my junior year of high school, the bishopric called a new Sunday School teacher for my class. It was wonderful because this new teacher was very entertaining. At that time I didn’t go to Sunday School regularly. Before Brother Dahl was called, I hardly went at all.
One Sunday, I was walking down the hall to throw away my little brother’s leftover Cheerios from sacrament meeting and head for the bathroom to spend Sunday School time with my friends. On my way, Brother Dahl greeted me. Shaking my hand he said, “How are you doing, Sister Whitworth?” I just smiled, pushed open the garbage can, and dropped the bag in. “I hope you are coming to Sunday School today. The lesson is one of my favorites.”
“Brother Dahl, all the lessons are your favorites.” He smiled and left for class, leaving me with a weird feeling that he knew I had not planned on going to class that day. I am always one to do exactly the opposite of what everyone thinks I will do, so I went to the bathroom and casually said, “Come on, Kristina, let’s go to Sunday School.” Kristina always went to Sunday School, but I could see the surprise on her face when I was the one who suggested it.
As we entered the class, Brother Dahl asked, “Annie, what would you like for Christmas this year?”
“Money,” I said. Everyone giggled, even Brother Dahl. Brother Dahl asked everyone in the class the same question. Some wanted a mountain bike, others a stereo, and others didn’t really care as long as they got something.
Brother Dahl said, “Every year about this time I start wondering if my wife knows what I want for Christmas. I hope this year she gets me a new tennis racket and shirt, because my old ones are getting a little worn out.” Everyone knew he was joking because he was grinning.
“But that is not what Christmas is all about,” he said in a voice that changed the tone of the lesson. He started handing out paper and pencils. “At Christmastime we should be in the spirit of giving, but we should also remember what Christmas really is. On this paper I want you to write a letter to Jesus, thanking Him for all He has given you. And tell Him what present you will give Him.”
This was not an easy assignment for me. At first, I wrote down that I would give Him all of my money so He could build temples and churches, but I realized that the money really wasn’t mine anyway; it was His.
When class ended I still hadn’t thought of anything I could give Jesus that He had not already given me. I had found someone who truly had it all, and what kind of a present can you get the person who gave you everything?
That afternoon I had to set the table for Sunday dinner. While I was matching up knives with spoons, I tried to think of a really good present, but I still couldn’t think of anything. As we ate dinner, we talked about the lessons we learned at church. No one had any suggestions for what I should give Jesus for Christmas. But when my family read scriptures that night, I found my answer.
We were taking turns reading in Matthew. When I started reading, I wasn’t paying attention until I read Matthew 25:40: “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Now I realized the Savior had already told us what the best present is. I only needed to read His words for myself to understand.

The second week, when the cast arrives, the work crew divides into two groups: the stage crew or the lighting crew. It’s their choice. “The responsibilities of each group will be explained, and the boys will learn to govern themselves,” says Sister Ganoe. “The influence of the Spirit plays a big part in that.”

Members of the stage crew do the special effects on or under the stage. They set off live fireballs and operate a 24-foot waterfall and water curtains. They also provide the flames when Abinadi is martyred and create the “destruction” scene with water cannons and smoke before the Savior visits the Americas.

Members of the light crew climb the ten 39- to 50-foot light towers to shine the spotlight on the actors as they move around the stage after dark.

Brother Ganoe invites the 26 crew members to make this decision a matter of prayer. They reflect on this decision while they are busy working.

At the end of two days, they decide where they want to serve. As they raise their hands to indicate their choice, they discover that they have chosen the exact number needed for each group: 12 will be on lights and 14 on the stage crew. They are now ready, spiritually and physically, to rehearse with the cast.

Brother Bennett likes to recount a conversation he had with a newspaper reporter during the South Pacific Games of 1979. Intrigued over the Tahitian captains’s refusal to play on the Sabbath, the journalist sought an interview. During the discussion, he asked, “Who is the person, alive today, that you admire most?”
“He sat back and waited for me to answer,” Brother Bennett recalls. “I guess he expected me to name some outstanding athlete. Instead, I told him the man I admired most was eighty-three year-old Spencer W. Kimball, president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I said I wanted to shake his hand one day. The rest of the interview was mainly about the Church!”
Erroll Bennett did eventually shake President Kimball’s hand. On 13 February 1981, the president visited Tahiti to break ground for the Tahitian Temple. Assigned to assist in handling security for the Church leader was Erroll Bennett.
Today, Brother Bennett, 32 and the father of five, is still at the top of Tahitian soccer. Shelf space in the lounge room of his home in suburban Papeete is occupied by a dazzling array of trophies. He has been the top scorer in Tahiti every year for the past ten years.
It is intriguing to observe the effect Brother Bennett’s courage has had on the image of the Church in the islands. Mission President C. Jay Larson has not been slow to use Brother Bennett in Church meetings attended by investigators. Jean Tefan, recently released public communications director for the Tahiti Region, muses: “Of course, not all people agree with the Church’s stand on the sanctity of the Sabbath. But I believe it’s fair to say they respect us for it. Many admire the fact that there are people who are still prepared to stand up for a principle. And there are countless Tahitians today—not only footballers themselves, but thousands of their supporters—who are now with their families on Sundays instead of at a game because of the character of a Latter-day Saint.”
Perhaps the most important question still remains. Why was a man with the stature of Napoléon Spitz willing to go to such extraordinary lengths to back Erroll on the Sabbath issue, when he did not share the player’s religious conviction? What did this president of the powerful Comité Territorial des Sports, this president of the Football League of French Polynesia and recently elected first vice president of the French Polynesian legislative assembly, see in Erroll Bennett that he so admired?
“For Erroll, I knew that it was a matter of deep religious conviction, and I respected him for it,” Mr. Spitz says. Then, as he leans back in his chair in his political office in the Assembly building, he adds with feeling:
“Erroll Bennett is more than just a soccer player. I believe he is the greatest Tahitian soccer star of all time—as a player, his attitude and his spirit mark him as a great man. If he had these qualities before he became a Mormon, he has them to an even greater degree now. Not once in his career has he ever been cautioned for bad behaviour.”
No one knows how much longer Erroll Bennett will be playing soccer. He could still be at the top five years from now. Yet one senses that an honourable retirement may not be too far distant. In the division of the Papeete Tahiti Stake on June 20 last year, Erroll’s former bishop, Lysis Terooatea, was called to preside over the new Pirae Tahiti Stake, and Erroll was called as a member of the stake high council. True to form, high council meetings come before practice sessions. For his part, Napoléon Spitz is hopeful that Erroll can keep going until the South Pacific Games scheduled for Apia, Samoa, this year.
Of his own life in the past hectic five years—of the pressures he has faced, the principles he has stood for, and the lives he has touched—Erroll Bennett says simply: “I’ve been truly blessed.”

We have a great example of obedience in Church history. Reddick Allred was a stalwart member of the Church, having worked on the Nauvoo Temple, marched with the Mormon Battalion, and emigrated with the Saints to the Salt Lake Valley. Of even greater interest perhaps to this audience is his mission to Hawaii, which he served from 1852 to 1855. During part of that mission he was President of the Maui Conference. But it was just after his return from that mission, in October of 1856, that Reddick Allred etched his name among the heros of the western migration.

The handcart pioneers are part of our Church heritage. We know the stories of their faith, their courage and their great suffering. We also know of the great faith and courage of the rescuers in the Fall of 1856 who went to their aid. Reddick Allred was among those who responded to the call from Brigham Young to "Go and bring in the people now on the plains." It is important to note, and difficult to appreciate in our day of cell phones and instant communication, that when Brigham Young issued that call, he had no good information about the Willie and Martin handcart companies that were in distress. So when the rescue teams left Salt Lake, they had no idea where they were going or how many people they would need to assist.

But they went anyway. Reddick Allred was among the express team of 27 men and 16 wagons that raced ahead of the main rescue party. They averaged close to 30 miles a day through deep snow and bitter cold. On Oct 18th, eleven days after leaving the valley, the express team decided to establish a relief station near South Pass. Captain Grant, leader of the express team, assigned Reddick to take charge of the station and a few men. It was an unenviable task. South Pass is a high, treeless plain at the crest of the continent lashed by a bitter wind in the winter. And only one day after leaving Salt Lake, Reddick contracted pleurisy, an inflammation of the lungs that makes it difficult and painful to breathe. The only treatment for pleurisy was bed rest, but it would be some time before Reddick got to lie in his own bed again.

A few days after the express team continued on they encountered the Willie company. They sent word to Brother Allred and his men who hurried east and were able to deliver life-saving food and equipment to the struggling group soon after their terrible climb up Rocky Ridge. Allred and his men saw the Willie company and their rescuers on their way to the valley and returned to await word of the Martin company at the relief station. For three cold and tedious weeks full of doubt and uncertainty, they waited. At one point, two of the men decided that the Martin company was either lost or had camped for the winter. They decided to return to Salt Lake and tried to persuade Allred to return with them.

Reddick Allred refused to budge. Brigham Young had sent them out, his priesthood leader had assigned him this post, and he would remain until released. The other men left him and returned, tragically turning other relief wagons around as they met them. But Reddick remained. On November 18, his faith and obedience were vindicated when the rescuers arrived with the Martin company. Captain Grant was so happy to see Reddick that he greeted him with a cheer, "Hurrah for the Bulldog. Good for hanging on." Reddick Allred had plenty of reasons for leaving his post; the cold, the uncertainty, his own ill health. But he had one good reason to stay; his faith in his leaders and desire to be obedient.

In the April 1997 General Conference, President Eyring paid tribute to Allred:
"Those with the faith of Reddick Newton Allred will ... feel the same divine approval [he] felt when he saw those handcart pioneers struggling toward him, knowing he could offer them safety because he had followed counsel when it was hard to do.
"While the record does not prove it, I am confident that Brother Allred prayed while he waited. I am confident that his prayers were answered. He then knew that the counsel to stand fast was from God. We must pray to know that. I promise you answers to such prayers of faith." (Henry B. Eyring, "Finding Safety in Counsel," April 1997, Saturday Afternoon Session, 167th Annual General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)
I too pay tribute to Reddick Allred. My great great grandmother's sister, Elizabeth Green, was an 18-year-old member of the Martin Company that he helped to rescue. She continued her journey to the Salt Lake Valley where she later married, raised a family of nine children and died at the age of 78.

All of this does not begin to count the individual acts of kindness and support—gifts of food, clothing, money, care, and a thousand other forms of comfort and compassion—by which we may participate in the Christlike work of redemption. As a boy I witnessed my own mother’s actions to redeem a woman in need. Many years ago when her children were young, my mother underwent a serious operation that nearly took her life and left her bedridden much of the time for nearly a year. During this time, family and ward members helped Mother and our family. For additional help, the ward Relief Society president, Sister Abraham, recommended that my parents hire a woman in the ward who desperately needed work. In recounting this story, I will use the fictional names Sara and Annie for this woman and her daughter. This is my mother’s account:
“I can see it as plain as if it were only yesterday. There I lay in bed, and Sister Abraham brought Sara to the bedroom door. My heart sank. There stood the least attractive person I had ever met—so thin; scraggly, unkempt hair; round-shouldered; head bowed looking at the floor. She wore an old housedress four sizes too big. She wouldn’t look up and spoke so softly I couldn’t hear her. Hiding behind her was a little girl about three years old. What in the world was I to do with this creature? After they left the room, I cried and cried. I needed help, not more problems. Sister Abraham stayed awhile with her, and they soon whipped the house into shape and prepared some good meals. Sister Abraham asked me to try it for a few days, [saying] that this girl had had a really hard time and needed help.
“The next morning when Sara came, I finally got her to come over by the bed where I could hear her. She asked what I wanted her to do. I told her and then said, ‘But the most important thing is my boys; spend time with them, read to them—they are more important than the house.’ She was a good cook and kept the house clean, the washing done, and she was good to the boys.
“Through the weeks, I learned Sara’s story. [Because she was hard of hearing, she didn’t do well in school and eventually dropped out. She married young to a dissolute man. Annie was born and became the joy of Sara’s life. One winter night her husband came home drunk, forced Sara and Annie into the car in their bedclothes, and then dropped them off by the side of the highway. They never saw him again. Barefoot and freezing, Sara and Annie walked several miles to her mother’s home.] Her mother agreed to let them stay in exchange for doing all the housework and cooking, and caring for her sister and brother who were in high school.
“We took Sara to an ear doctor, and she got a hearing aid. … We got her to take adult schooling, and she got her high school diploma. She went to night school and later graduated from college and taught special education. She bought a little home. Annie was married in the temple and had two children. Sara eventually had some operations on her ears and was finally able to hear well. Years later she retired and served a mission. … Sara thanked us often and said she learned so much from me, especially when I told her that my sons were more important than the house. She said it taught her to be that way with Annie. … Sara is a very special woman.”