Gospel Story Finder

For Example
In the early days of the Church, an elder found himself with the responsibility of giving a sermon to a large group of people gathered to hear a “Mormon” preacher. The situation wouldn’t have been that bad, but as Brigham Young explained, “[The elder] had never been able to say he knew that Joseph Smith was a Prophet.” The elder wanted to just say a prayer and conclude the meeting. But the building was so full, people were hanging through the open windows from outside to listen. There was no graceful way out for the elder except to speak.
He braved his way to the podium, and “as soon as he got ‘Joseph’ out, ‘is a Prophet’ was the next; and from that, his tongue was loosened, and he continued talking until near sundown,” Brigham Young reported. “The Lord pours out his Spirit upon a man when he testifies that which the Lord gives him to testify of” (Joseph Fielding McConkie, Seeking the Spirit, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1978, pp. 4–5).

Ninety-year-old Samoan woman, Valaei Faloa’i Pritchard Taleni, is a loving matriarch in her family, and a friend to all who know her in her home village and abroad.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, is a senior lecturer at the University of Canterbury, and a bishop in the Mona Vale Ward in Christchurch.
He says that his mother “is a true pioneer of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Samoa. Her great legacy comes from the demonstration of the Samoan values of tautua (service), fa’aaloalo (respect), osiosiga (reciprocity), loto alofa (generosity), fa’asinomaga (belonging), ola fa’a’eagaga (spirituality), ola magafagafa (tolerance) and aofia faatasi (inclusivity) enveloped in the value of alofa (love).”
This year, Valaei celebrated her 90th birthday with family and friends. The milestone gave her and those who love her the chance to look back on decades of service to her family, her Church, and her community.
Born and raised in the village of Tafua on the island of Savai’i, Valaei married Leali’ie’e Ova Taleni from the village of Vaiafai, Iva on Savai’i.
Valaei began her life in the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa, also known as the EFKS church. Her husband introduced her to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she was baptised in the McKay Branch (now a ward) on Savai’i.
Leali’ie’e and Valaei served in many Church callings over the years, including Leali’ie’e as branch president and bishop; and Valaei as Relief Society president, Primary president and Sunday School teacher.
In 1976, the couple attended the Church’s general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States—leading to an article about their visit in the Ensign (now known as The Liahona).
The couple raised 15 children including some who were adopted.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, says their mother was a “key support for Dad throughout his service in the Church, and in his role in the village as matai (chief).”
She also served her family, her extended family, and her entire village throughout her life.
Bishop Taleni is grateful for his mother’s “passion for supporting us all in our education—this goes beyond her own children.” He says that she supported children from their extended family and village, “making sure they went to school.”
He recalls that “Mum used to run a shop in the village. That shop was very much operated not only to support our family but also to help villagers with their basic needs.” In later years, the shop was a hub for helping people with welfare needs.
“Mum is known for her generosity, hard work, and love for people. She was very organised and always conscious about making sure the family was well fed and looked after, with a clean house.” He said that the health and wellbeing of the family was always important to her.
Underpinning her life is her faith in God. “All her life she has studied the scriptures regularly and prayed and fasted faithfully. These are all part of her spiritual nourishment,” her son says. “She totally believes in tithing and contributing to fast offerings.”
Valaei continues to be a supporter of missionary service. Bishop Taleni remembers that their “home was the home of missionaries in the village for many years. She called these missionaries her own children and took care of them in many ways.”
Seven of her own children and ten of her grandchildren have served missions for the Church. Many of her children and grandchildren continue to serve in the Church.
The Church has grown over the years on the island of Savai’i. “When Mum joined the Church, during that time there was only one stake or district in the whole island, now there are six stakes,” Bishop Taleni says.
“Mum has seen many changes, many developments, Church events, programs, activities and services over the years. These have contributed to the growth of the Church. The missionary work and ministering have been huge on the island. Many miracles have happened. Mum and Dad’s own missionary service as Church leaders over the years have led to remarkable experiences. They left our own home village and moved to where the Lord called them to serve.”
“This really wraps up Mum’s whole story of service,” Bishop Taleni says. “She’s now at this age of her life, she may not be able to do much physically, but her legacy speaks volumes and will be forever in the hearts of her family, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, her village and community, and in the Church to which she belongs.”

A Sunbeam teacher wrapped each of her class members one by one in a blanket to teach them how the Spirit feels like the comfort and security of that covering. A visiting mother also heard the lesson.
Many months later the mother thanked the teacher. She told how she had been less active when she accompanied her young daughter to Primary. Several weeks after the lesson, the mother suffered a miscarriage. She was overcome with grief when suddenly she felt a great warmth and peace. It felt like someone had covered her with a warm blanket. She recognized the reassurance of the Spirit and knew that Heavenly Father was aware of her and that He loved her.

One of our daughters, after giving birth to a baby, became seriously ill. We prayed for her, administered to her, and supported her as best we could. We hoped she would receive a blessing of healing, but days turned into months, and months turned into years. At one point I told her that this affliction might be something she would have to struggle with the rest of her life.
One morning I remember pulling out a small card and threading it through my typewriter. Among the words that I typed for her were these: “The simple secret is this: put your trust in the Lord, do your best, then leave the rest to Him.”
She did put her trust in God. But her affliction did not disappear. For years she suffered, but in due course, the Lord blessed her, and eventually she returned to health.
Knowing this daughter, I believe that even if she had never found relief, yet she would have trusted in her Heavenly Father and “[left] the rest to Him.”

Like many LDS teenagers in Africa, I was one of a handful of Church members in my high school. I became accustomed to sharing my beliefs with my friends, and I was known for having a certain set of standards. Fortunately for me, I don’t remember ever being ostracized for being different. If anything, I was respected and admired. My friends looked to me as a sort of anchor during an often difficult and confusing period of their lives.
One day during the final year of high school, I joined a group of friends to watch a movie. As we bought our tickets, the movie poster did not give an indication of the movie rating. Somewhat naively, I decided to buy a ticket anyway in the hope that the movie would be aboveboard.
Two minutes into the movie, I realised my hopes were in vain. The opening scene was shockingly vulgar. As I covered my eyes with my hands, I realised there was only one thing to do: leave. I was near the end of a long line of people, some of whom I was keen to make a favorable impression on. There was no way to make an inconspicuous exit. But there was also no way I could sit through that movie and be true to myself.
With a racing heart I leant over to a friend and whispered, “I’ll see you outside.”
Grabbing my popcorn, I picked my way in the inky darkness past the long row of friends. Back in the light of the ticket office, I wondered how to spend the next few hours as I awaited the others. To my surprise, I soon heard steps behind me.
One of my friends appeared, smiling. “I didn’t like that movie either,” she said. Thirty seconds later, we heard a second pair of footsteps, and then a third. After a few minutes, a large group of us had formed.
I looked around me, incredulous. When I had decided to leave, there was no way I could have predicted that more than half of my group of friends were secretly hoping for a way to get out too.
Marianne Williamson said, “As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same.”

Some years ago I had the privilege of serving as deacons quorum adviser. In our quorum we had three active deacons, all of whom were called to be part of the quorum presidency.
In one of their meetings, this young presidency decided they wanted at least two of the less-active deacons in their quorum to begin attending Church meetings and activities. They prayerfully set a date—a Sunday six weeks away—by which to achieve their goal. They prayed for success in this sacred endeavor and prayerfully pledged to do the following:
Pray together regularly.
Fast together.
Visit each deacon on the roll.
Plan activities so that any returning deacons would enter a well-structured program.
The presidency felt deeply that these goals were the will of the Lord, so they moved forward with faith and confidence.
During the following weeks, these three young men did what they had promised, expecting that their prayers would be answered. They prayed together, fasted together, visited the less-active deacons and invited them back, and prepared activities, believing that they needed to be prepared for an increase in attendance.
Despite their diligence, no deacons returned—not to church or to any other activity. The date approached, and though they were disappointed that members of their quorum were not returning to church, the young men remained confident that Heavenly Father would answer their prayers.
The Sunday of their goal arrived, and none of the young men whom the presidency had reached out to came to church. But the bishop announced during sacrament meeting that two 12-year-old young men who had been investigating the Church would be baptized that evening.
What a blessing it was for these two new members of the Church to join a quorum with such a presidency. And what a blessing it was for the presidency to see their efforts and prayers answered so directly and to learn that the Lord keeps His promises.
Such was the excitement in the quorum that one member of the presidency said, “Let’s do this again.”

This teaching may seem a paradox. After all, isn’t getting more of the things you want the way to be happy? The youth of the São Paulo Brazil Santo Amaro Stake know better. Two weeks before their youth conference, they began collecting food, toys, and clothing—loving gifts for the children of a state orphanage. The donations came not just from members of the Church, but from other neighbors, too.
“I learned that we must love one another and not just ourselves. I also learned that everyone needs to live in harmony. I believe we should help those who need help like the mentally ill, the homeless, and the orphaned.”
Carlos dos Santos Souza, Diadema Second Ward
On Saturday, the conference opened with a day of soccer, volleyball, other sports, and a roadshow. But on Sunday, the two hundred young members of the Santo Amaro Stake turned to serving their brothers and sisters. They wrote more than a hundred letters to full-time missionaries from their stake. Sixteen of the priests teamed up with full-time missionaries for some missionary work. And others went to the homes of 120 young people who had not been taking part in Church activities, inviting them to join with them in the youth conference. Several accepted the invitation to hear Elder Helio da Rocha Camargo of the Second Quorum of the Seventy speak at the fireside that evening. Some took part in activities the next day.
On Monday, the youth turned their efforts to the community—specifically, to Guarapiranga Park, a large park within the stake boundaries. Painting roadside curbs, picnic tables, and fences, the group drew attention from many of the thousands of people who were at the park. Some of those who noticed the group joined them for a picnic lunch and found out more about the Church. The park administrators said they had never seen such an act of service, and city officials expressed their gratitude for all the youth had accomplished.
“Although people in general are cheerful, they don’t realized what true happiness is all about. Happiness is not something you receive, but something you give.”
Simone, Jabaquara Ward
But hearts were touched most deeply when the two hundred young people visited the state orphanage on Tuesday. With them they took the goods they had collected during the previous weeks. But they also took gifts the children needed even more: love and attention. Visiting with the four hundred orphans—from newborn to age six—they changed diapers, told stories, and sang Primary songs. They took children to the playground and simply talked with them. When the time came to leave, there were many tears. With hearts overflowing, the youth of the Santo Amaro Stake found that even a three-hour-long testimony meeting was just too short to express their feelings. They had served, they had loved, they had felt joy. And they wanted to have this kind of youth conference every year.

It was a real feeling of fear, she explained, that gave her “more than the usual desire to be ‘in’.” When Pat Terry Holland was 16, she moved with her family from a small rural town to a larger city. Recalling the anguish of that experience, she said, “I felt overly sensitive, very awkward, afraid, and unaccepted. I remember being really hurt at that time because my fear and hesitancy was mistaken for conceit and stand-offishness. It hurt so much to have people think I was stuck-up just because I was afraid to be outgoing and friendly.”
This timid young girl, in spite of her beauty, her intelligence, and the strength of her family, experienced the anguish of feeling left out and alone. She was hurting inside. “If I could just be really popular,” she had thought, “that would help me feel confident and happy. If I could just be a class officer, if I could be a cheerleader, if I could enter a queen contest and win, then I would be a really happy teenager.” These thoughts kept flooding her mind at that time when it appeared to her that no one else was suffering those terrible left-out feelings.
Years later, and still looking like a queen, but now more confident and happy, this young mother recalls those times as she relives and suffers a bit with her own children who are now facing the challenges that are so much a part of growing up. “You know,” she said happily, “all of those things did eventually come to me (class officer, cheerleader, and campus queen), and they did bring a lot of attention. But to my great surprise, I discovered that they, in and of themselves, were very empty experiences.”
She now draws strength from a more lasting and dependable resource, she explained: “Those honors, while rewarding, did not bring the real confidence and happiness that I was sure they would.”
There is unquestioning evidence that somewhere along the way Sister Holland has found the key, the source, and the secret to confidence and happiness. Her dark brown eyes radiate joy, peace, anticipation, and enthusiasm as she shares her thoughts and feelings so freely.
“What is it?” I asked, eager to hear her tell of what is better than those things she had one time yearned for so much.
“Well,” she said, her expression intense, her voice soft, but confident, “I remember once being very inspired by a talk given by President N. Eldon Tanner. He quoted from the scriptures, ‘Seek ye first the kingdom of heaven.’ I realized then, even at a rather young age, that if I would seek first the kingdom of heaven, everything else would be added unto me. That left a great impression on my mind,” she explained. She also remembered the theme from Mutual that year and recited it with conviction: “‘Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers’ (D&C 112:10). That I clung to like it was gold,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her.
Sister Holland spoke of another very memorable experience that became “a real turning point in my life.” She said, “My parents had allowed me to come to Salt Lake City and live with a group of girls for the summer while I worked. They were all about my age. We had many happy times together, but in our apartment at one time we felt despondency and discouragement, and I remember feeling it so strongly one day that I decided to fast and pray about how to be happy, how to find the peace and security and confidence that a person needs. That evening my roommates and I decided to go to a movie. We first went to a grocery store to get some treats to take with us. At the store we pulled our car in right next to Elder ElRay L. Christiansen, then an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He walked right over to our car. He chatted with each one of us. He seemed very interested and asked us our names. I was so excited, I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.”
As if she were reliving that experience and sensing again the impact of that memorable occasion, she bore testimony: “Just before Elder Christiansen got ready to leave, he paused, looked right at me, and said, ‘Pat, the only way to be happy is to be obedient.’”
There was silence for a moment, each pondering the magnitude of this simple counsel and the direct answer to fervent prayer. She recalled her feelings on that occasion, “First of all, just to see a General Authority was a highlight in my life. It was the first time I had ever had any personal contact with Church leaders like that.”
This young girl, anxious to find the right answers and inspired by the counsel of a General Authority, had no way of knowing then that later, as the wife of Jeffrey Holland, former Church Commissioner of Education and now President of Brigham Young University, she would find herself in close and frequent association with many of the General Authorities. “To have my prayers answered so directly was another turning point in my life,” she said. “I realized right then and there that truly the greatest thing that I could cling to, the only way to be confident and happy, is to be obedient and live by the Spirit.”
While yet a teenager she discovered “there is just no substitute for obedience.” While obedience had not been a struggle for Pat, still the impact of receiving such an immediate and direct answer to her earnest supplication, and to receive it from one of the Lord’s chosen servants, a General Authority in person, was just more than she had ever hoped for.
Pat met Jeffrey Holland between her junior and senior year at high school. With a twinkle in her eye, she expressed much more of that sweet relationship than was spoken. “And that continues to be the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she said enthusiastically. “He continually amazes me, and it’s a wonderful privilege and blessing to be his wife.” Feeling the joy and happiness that she was expressing made it difficult to realize that she had ever had youthful feelings of discouragement or fear.
Speaking of their early friendship, she recalled that when he left for his mission, they so wanted to have a “forever kind of love.” Together they decided that they would do three things that would unite them even in his absence: (1) Read the scriptures every day. (2) Fast once a week. (3) Pray really often. “These have become habits that we have continued to this day,” she said humbly and gratefully, thinking of the far-reaching rewards of that early decision that kept them close while they were far away.
Her countenance and the tone of testimony in her voice gave me reason to believe that the unlimited reservoir from which she now draws strength and confidence has been filled through diligent obedience to this early commitment that has now become a habit. “And has that taken away all of the difficult times?” I inquired, since the spirit in her home seemed to be so peaceful and void of any stress. “Oh, no, not always,” she said, smiling. “I remember one time I had become very concerned,” she confessed. “I felt the pressures were great. For the first dozen years of our married life, Jeff was either a student or a teacher. We moved 12 times in 13 years. One of those moves was to Connecticut.”
At this time her young husband was a student at Yale University working on his Ph.D. He felt the pressure to do well as one of the very few Mormon students there. He was called to serve as counselor in the stake presidency, which required considerable travel within the boundaries of a very large stake. He also taught institute at Yale, which helped supplement their meager income. Sister Holland was called at that time to be the ward Relief Society president. She had two small babies. “The pressure was so great, I really wanted to give up,” she admitted. “It wasn’t easy.” Thinking back to her husband’s counsel, which seemed so hard to follow at that time, she explained: “He knew of my concerns and gave me direction.”
“Read your scriptures more meaningfully,” he gently but fervently counseled his young wife. “Because,” he said, “the only way we will survive (feeling considerable pressure himself) is through spirituality. We will survive through the strength of the Spirit.”
She said, “I tried hard to follow my husband’s counsel in righteousness, but I remember thinking, ‘That’s easier said than done.’” With the lesson on obedience deeply anchored in her soul, she was prepared to try. In an attempt to do just what he said, hard as it was, she told of fasting and praying one day. “His words kept coming to my mind about reading the scriptures more meaningfully. I remember walking over to my scriptures with the attitude, okay, we’ll just see if there’s something to this. And of course there was. The answers were there.”
Now, leaning forward, she spoke reverently of that very special experience: “That’s how the Lord uses the scriptures to talk to us,” she said. “He can’t be everywhere in person, but he guides us as we diligently search the scriptures, and he knows at what point in our lives certain passages will have meaning for us. That way he can provide the answers to things we earnestly seek.” Again she repeated, “That’s how the Lord uses the scriptures to talk to us.
“Truly, that was another turning point,” she said. In following her husband’s counsel, the scriptures had provided the answers she so much needed at that time. “It’s not always easy,” she explained in a cheerful, happy tone. “We’ll continue to have challenges and we’ll continue to be purified, but the time of greatest challenge is also the time of greatest spiritual blessings.”
“What kind of blessings?” I asked.
She paused thoughtfully, and while I waited for her response, I observed the beauties of her home and thought of her many and varied accomplishments. Her beautiful grand piano reminded me of her exceptional musical gifts and talents. She began her musical training very young and at one time was encouraged to go east and study, which she did briefly. But then she realized that she had to make some important choices.
“I faced what a lot of young women face—the choice between a career and marriage. I made the right decision. I have a wonderful husband, three beautiful children, and some music. My music alone would be a poor substitute for my family I love with all my heart.”
Speaking of that incident she said warmly, “Jeff was my first choice!”
Of his wife Brother Holland says, “She’s incredible! Absolutely stunning! She can lift an entire day’s burden with the curl of her smile and dry a child’s tear with one touch. She refuses to speak ill of anyone, trying always to understand and empathize and forgive. She’s funny and free and full of faith. I’ve never known a more spiritual, more disciplined, more gentle woman all rolled up in one beautiful package.”
Now interrupting the brief silence, Sister Holland was ready with her response. “About the blessings,” she said, “the greatest ones are really not tangible. It’s that peace and happiness and confidence that I was speaking of before.” Then, clasping her hands together to give emphasis to her response, she explained, “It’s a oneness with each other, with our children, with our neighbors, and with God. It’s as though the windows of heaven have been opened.” She glanced upward. The spirit of her message could be felt. She spoke of all the gloriously happy times with her husband and her beautiful children.
To be near Sister Holland is to experience the radiance of a truly good and happy person. She seemed so confident and at peace, I was prompted to ask just one more question: “Sister Holland, do you have any particular concerns at this time?” Her countenance changed. “Yes,” she said, “I’m saddened by some of the philosophies I hear. I hope our young people and everyone can sacrifice enough to receive the blessings, to give up things that might seem important right now for the greater things. I hope we will always be willing to pay that kind of price and in return receive the boundless blessings that are promised.” There was evidence of her intense desire for everyone to be happy, and her personal knowledge of the key to this great blessing is something she is so anxious to share.
Sister Holland, as a leader and teacher of youth, reaches out with deep love and understanding. She has genuine concern for their confidence and happiness—just as she had for herself at that age. As a final expression by way of testimony, she emphatically concluded, “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven; there is no other way.”

Illustrations by Casey Nelson
My neighbor Elsa was intimidating. Still, I decided I should get to know her better. I thought, “There must be good in there somewhere,” and I decided mowing her lawn would be a good way to bring it out.
After only a couple of weeks of mowing, Elsa approached my mom. She accused me of trying to kill her grass and told me to stop mowing. I couldn’t understand! I was trying to do something good for her, but she didn’t like it.
I went about a month without mowing. One day, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was convinced she’d like her lawn to be cut, whether she knew it yet or not.
I worked quickly, making sure not to cut the grass too short, and never to make a divot. I was getting near the end when I heard her door slam. I wanted to run, but I held my ground. And then I saw her walking toward me.
She was carrying a small box of chocolates! “Here,” she said in a thick accent. “You take chocolates.”
After that Elsa and I became friends. She told me stories from her childhood in Germany, and I really enjoyed talking to her.
Because we became friends, I realized she wasn’t scary at all but was a very kindhearted lady. All it took was a little bit of service.

“It’s not going to work,” I grumbled to Leigh as I looked down at the workbench we were making for Dad’s Father’s Day present. There were bent nails sticking out all over, and the legs were wobbly and crooked.
Jordon, my four-year-old brother, scratched his head. “Are you sure this is what Dad wanted?”
“Something like this,” I muttered.
Jordon looked at the workbench a little longer, then sat on it. It creaked and wobbled, then crumpled into a pile of broken boards.
Jordon jumped up, his mouth open and his eyes big. He looked at me, then at the broken workbench. “It broke, David,” he bleated.
I was about to get mad, but I realized that this was the best thing that could have happened. “Don’t worry, Jordon,” I consoled him. “It wasn’t any good anyway.”
“So what are we going to do?” Leigh demanded. “Father’s Day is tomorrow.”
I shrugged. There just didn’t seem to be anything we could get for Dad. Then a great idea came! “I know!” I shouted, jumping up. “Ever since Mom ran over Dad’s fishing pole last spring, he’s been saying he needed a new one,”
“But we don’t have enough money to buy a fishing pole,” Leigh said.
“We don’t need to buy one,” I said, grinning. “We’ll make him a willow fishing pole. They’re the best kind.”
“Sure,” Leigh said. “Dad’s always telling us how he used to cut himself a willow, put on some fishing line, and catch lots of big fish. He said everybody ought to have a willow pole.”
We raced down the street, past the park, across the school grounds, and into the vacant lot behind the supermarket. There were some tall poplar trees there, and growing out of the trunk of one of the biggest trees were the best willows around. They were really shoots from the poplars, but everyone we knew called them willows.
We cut a long one, chopped off the top, and trimmed off the leaves and twigs. It was a beauty, about ten feet long—just the kind of pole a guy would need to catch a whopper of a fish.
We borrowed some of Dad’s fishing line, one of his hooks, and one of his floaters and got that fishing pole all ready. Then we hid it in the garage.
After church the next day, Mom wanted to have the presents after we ate dinner, but Jordon, Leigh, and I shouted, “No! Presents first!”
“Close your eyes,” Leigh told Dad as I went to the garage to get the willow pole. “It was too big to wrap,” she explained, “Don’t peek.”
I had a hard time getting the pole inside because it was so long. I knocked a lamp shade off the lamp and brushed the magazines off the bookshelf but finally got the willow pole into the kitchen.
“You can open your eyes now,” Leigh said as I pushed the fishing pole into Dad’s hands, banging the light overhead.
“It’s just what you always wanted!” Jordon exclaimed.
“Your very own willow fishing pole,” I added. “You always said they were the very best kind.”
Why, it took Dad’s breath away. He just looked down at the fabulous willow pole and grinned and shook his head. “Well, it sure does look like a fine pole,” he finally managed to say.
“If I had known that you were going to get your dream wish,” Mom said, “I wouldn’t have bought you what I did.”
She left the room and came back with a long package. Dad tore off the paper and ripped open the box. There was another fishing pole. But this was just a store-bought one, not nearly as good as our genuine willow pole. But Dad tried to act happy anyway.
“I could take mine back and get you a couple of white shirts and a tie,” Mom suggested.
“Oh, that’s all right, Vella,” Dad told her. “I’ll keep the store-bought pole—just in case.” He shrugged. “Well, a fisherman like me can always use two poles.”
Dad was really excited. “You know what we’re going to do tomorrow?” he burst out. “I’m getting off work, and we’re going fishing. The whole family!”
Monday was better than Father’s Day. Mom packed a good lunch while Dad and I packed our fishing gear. We had a hard time with the willow pole because it was so long, but we finally managed to tie it on top of the van. Then we were off. We sang songs and listened to Dad tell fish stories about when he was younger and he and Uncle Joe had gone fishing with their willow poles.
When we finally reached the lake, we piled out. “Hey, David,” Dad called, “do you want to carry the willow pole?” He winked.
I sure did want to, but I didn’t think that that would be fair to Dad. “No, Dad. This is your special day. You go ahead and carry the good pole.”
As we walked along the edge of the lake, there were a few people fishing already. All of them noticed Dad’s fabulous willow pole.
“Hey, where’d you get that fancy pole?” a man called out.
“Want to trade?” another man asked with a grin.
Dad gripped the pole, and his cheeks turned red. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything,” he said, shaking his head. “This is my Father’s Day present. A genuine, guaranteed-success willow pole.”
We found ourselves a private spot at the end of the lake, where the pine trees grew tall. Mom and Dad, Jordon, Leigh, and I found a big rock that poked way out into the water to fish from.
“I tell you what, David,” Dad said. “Why don’t you and Leigh try out the willow pole first, and I’ll struggle along with this store-bought one. They’re kind of tricky things.”
Well, I sure did want to try out Dad’s new willow pole, but I knew how much he wanted to use it, so I shook my head. “No, Dad, you’d better be the first to use the willow pole.”
“By all means,” Mom said with a smile. “Let the kids use the store-bought one. You enjoy the willow pole.”
It took a little work getting used to that store-bought pole with all its funny gadgets. I got the line tangled up a few times and hooked Leigh in the pants once and Jordon in the shirt twice, but before noon I had two fish.
At first, Dad didn’t catch anything, but he claimed he was waiting for a big fish to come along. He said he wasn’t going to bother with the little ones.
In the afternoon, Jordon and Leigh took the store-bought pole to another spot, and I slipped up next to Dad as he sat fishing on the rock. All of a sudden there was a little tug on the line. Dad got all stiff and sat up straight. There was another tug and then a huge jerk, and Dad jumped to his feet and started shouting and dancing around.
“It’s a big one, David,” Dad yelled. “That’s a granddaddy fish! Didn’t I always tell you that a willow pole was the best fishing pole in the world?” He shook his head. “Wait until I walk back to the van with this monster. Then we’ll see what they say about my willow pole!”
Dad fought that fish for a long time before he could start pulling it to shore. A couple of times that old fish jumped out of the water, and it was big all right! It was huge!
“Get me the net, David,” Dad ordered.
I raced back to the picnic spot where Mom was resting and grabbed the net. “Dad’s got a big one,” I shouted. “It must be the biggest one in the lake.”
I raced back to Dad with Mom right behind me. Dad was still dancing and pulling and twisting and yelling. I’d never seen him so excited. I handed him the net, and he began pulling that granddaddy fish right up to the rock. We were both looking down into the churning water, just waiting for that big fish to get close enough for Dad to slip the net under him. It got closer and closer, and Dad started to reach out with the net, when suddenly there was a loud crack and then a quick pop. The willow pole had snapped in two!
Dad lunged for the fish, tumbling into the lake head first. He still had the net in his hand, and he began whipping it through the water, hoping to catch that great big granddaddy fish. But it was gone.
“Can we swim too?” Jordon called as he and Leigh came running back. “We’ll even take our shoes off.”
“Just give me the other pole,” Dad gasped. “I’m still going to catch that fish?”
Leigh got a sick look on her face. She took a deep breath and said, “I think Mom got gypped.”
Dad wiped a piece of moss out of the corner of his mouth. “How did she get gypped?”
“Well, Jordon and I were fishing down that way.” She pointed down the shore. “I leaned the pole against a rock. Then Jordon and I went hunting crawdads. We caught one and ran back to show Mom. Jordon tripped on the pole, and I tripped on Jordon, and … and we both fell on the pole. And it’s not unbreakable.”
“Yeah, it broke in three places,” Jordon said.
All of a sudden I heard someone laughing. Mom was sitting on a log, holding her sides and laughing so hard that tears were running down her cheeks. Dad just stood in the water and looked at her.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” I said. “We can get you another willow pole. There are lots more where that one came from.”
Dad started pulling himself out of the water. “David, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
“I think that next time,” Mom said, trying to stop laughing, “I’ll get you a couple of white shirts and a tie.”
“Do you think you’ll ever forget this Father’s Day?” I asked.
Dad looked down at me. Suddenly his face turned into one great big smile. “No, David, this is one Father’s Day that I’m going to remember for a long, long time.”

Photograph by Leslie Nilsson
When I was a boy, my father gave me a Christmas present I will never forget. It was a green Matchbox® racing car, which I absolutely loved. This car was the favorite thing I received that year. I played with it all the time. Then one day I got angry—I now can’t even remember why—and I threw my cherished car in a fit of anger. It landed in a wisteria bush.
Photograph by Getty Images
In Australia, Christmastime is in the summertime. These were long, hot days and the wisteria bush was thick with its full summer growth.
I soon calmed down enough to realize I had better find my car. I looked for hours. Days. Weeks, even. But I never saw my car again. It was forever lost in the tangles of the thick bush. I felt terrible! My father gave me something because he loved me, and I threw it away. Even today, when I think about this experience, I feel distressed at how I rejected this gift given in love.

February first at ten o’clock in the morning, Willie Wonka greeted the five lucky young finders of his golden tickets and their selected guests and escorted them on a tour through his famous candy factory.
They first visited the Chocolate Room and sailed down the Chocolate River, which carried them to the Inventing Room, and eventually to the Great Glass Elevator.
In the process of the tour, four children and their guests were separated from the others and only Charlie Bucket was left. When Mr. Wonka pressed the button he had been longing to press for years, the Great Glass Elevator shot upward to a bright future for Charlie.

The first day I saw Frances, I knew I’d found the right one. The Lord brought us together later, and I asked her to go out with me. I went to her home to call on her. She introduced me, and her father said, “‘Monson’—that’s a Swedish name, isn’t it?”

I said, “Yes.”

He said, “Good.”

Then he went into another room and brought out a picture of two missionaries with their top hats and their copies of the Book of Mormon.

“Are you related to this Monson,” he said, “Elias Monson?”

I said, “Yes, he’s my grandfather’s brother. He too was a missionary in Sweden.”

Her father wept. He wept easily. He said, “He and his companion were the missionaries who taught the gospel to my mother and my father and all of my brothers and sisters and to me.” He kissed me on the cheek. And then her mother cried, and she kissed me on the other cheek. And then I looked around for Frances. She said, “I’ll go get my coat.”

As it got late, everybody separated except Patrick and me. We left together in a jeepney. Still wondering why Patrick didn’t join in, I thought back to a day four years before, when we were 16. I remembered we were walking in the street near our school when I told him I wanted to be a priest someday.

“In our church you could already be a priest,” Patrick replied. “You just need to be ordained. Then when you turn 19, you can preach the gospel as a missionary.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, thinking he didn’t know much about the gospel. “How can a 19-year-old preach to people? Priests take a lot of time to study so they can preach.”

Patrick insisted that 19-year-olds in his church could preach. He told me that his church also has another book of scripture, and he gave me a copy. I browsed through it at home, and I felt something mysterious in that book. But I didn’t really care about it; I just stuck it in a box, where it lay for the next four years.

Now, as we rode in the jeepney after the party, I asked Patrick where he was going. “I’m meeting some friends. They’re elders—missionaries.” I remembered having seen them around. I asked Patrick if he would take me to the elders so I could ask them some questions about their church.

We met up with the missionaries at a store near their subdivision, and they greeted us by shaking our hands. It was very formal. But after they introduced themselves to me, I realized they seemed like any other guys. They wanted to set up an appointment to answer my questions.

“OK, I’ll just get your number so if I’m available, I will text you,” I replied. I wasn’t really planning to text them.

When I got home, I got the book Patrick had given me four years before—something about it made me curious. The next morning I texted the missionaries to teach me. They started with the Restoration of the gospel. It sounded so different, and I told myself, “Why do people want to restore things when they know that older generations are different than our generation now?”

After two discussions I decided not to pursue them anymore. When asked why, I replied, “I’m just not interested anymore.” One week passed. I sat staring at the Book of Mormon, pondering the message I had been taught. I started to read what the missionaries told me to in 3 Nephi 11. I read that Jesus went to another nation to show that He was the Savior and Messiah. In 3 Nephi 15, I recognized one passage that I had read before in the Bible, in John 10:16. It was something the missionaries hadn’t even taught me yet.

Tears fell down my face, and I found myself weeping in my room. I realized the love Jesus Christ has for us. He loves us so much that He gave His own life to save us from our sins. I didn’t hesitate to pray, asking to know if the Book of Mormon I was holding is true. Praying in my room, all alone, I suddenly felt that somebody was there listening to me.

My heart was softened by the impressions I had received. I stood up and said, “This is the true Church. I know that this is the Church that Jesus Christ restored.”

The day before my baptism, I repeated the process of praying. Again what I had heard and felt sunk into my heart, and I knew the Holy Ghost had revealed the truth to me. I knew the truth that Jesus is the Christ. I felt in my heart and mind that I desired to be baptized, believing that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ I could be cleansed.

Jesus Christ atoned for our sins, and this is the very reason I was converted. I know that He was the only one who has the power and the authority to rebuild His Church in our dispensation. Now as a missionary serving in the Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission, I am doing the best I can to help people feel the great happiness I have now.

On a recent trip to the UK, my son, grandson, and I had an amazing experience of love and empathy that has changed “our world”. Our rental car stalled, and exhibited a motor fault light on a one lane country road, with blind curves and large hedges on both sides.
We called for a rescue, but found out two hours later that they had no record of our request for help. We decided to leave the car, as it was getting dark, and were immediately picked up by a young couple who took an hour and a half out of their day to help us get to a hotel in a small town near the railroad station. We would need to take four trains in four hours to get back to London Heathrow airport for our flight the next day. At the hotel, the Saturday night crowd was dancing to a live band, and busy staff stopped to help us.
The hotel registrar informed us there were no rooms available for three persons, and advised us to look for lodging elsewhere, with suggestions. After an hour, we had been unable to secure transport to the other suggestions, over thirty minutes away, because it was too late.
We approached the bar for assistance again. The bartender paused, listened to our story, and said, “That sounds like a nightmare!” and went for the manager. Though very occupied, he took the time to listen to our dilemma. He shook his head sadly, reiterating no room available, and rehearsed concerns for fire codes, etc. However, as our despair became evident, his face suddenly changed. With a determined step, he took my hand. “Come with me!”
He led us up a back staircase and to a little room. It was pleasant, and peaceful, and was shortly accessorized with a couple of small mattresses. They had no sheets or pillows, “we are so full!” and he apologized several times, telling us there was nothing better, but promising the fee for breakfast would be covered. As I gazed at our place of rest, it felt like heaven!

When twins James and Jeremy Ruesch were eight months old, their mother, Lisa, hurt her arm and was not able to care for the two energetic babies during the day while her husband was at work. When babysitters volunteered to help out until she healed, James and Jeremy were split up between two tenders. They screamed the entire time they were apart. Once back together, the babies were quiet and content. After that, Lisa never tried to separate her boys. For 19 years they have rarely been apart, and even then for no more than a day.
Now Jeremy and James are going their separate ways. They left on the same day for their respective mission fields: Jeremy to the Paraguay Asunción North Mission and James to the Argentina Rosario Mission. Getting to the point where each is prepared and enthusiastic to serve a mission is part of their life story.
James and Jeremy graduated from high school in Raleigh, North Carolina, but they can’t say Raleigh is their hometown. Their father is in the military, so they have had many hometowns as they have moved with him on his different postings. But wherever they have lived with their father, mother, and younger sister, Tori, they have set a fine example of Latter-day Saint values that has affected each school and each group of friends in every town where they have lived.
Their dad, Gary, says it has been one of their accomplishments to move into a new school and raise the level of behavior and language among their classmates.
At first glance, the Ruesch brothers seem identical, although they hate dressing the same. As a child, Jeremy fell against the edge of a table and ended up with a scar near his left eye. That’s one sure way of telling them apart, and they often catch people looking for the telltale scar. The other is that Jeremy is left-handed and James is right-handed. Their track coach, however, has taught them to use the same leading leg over the high hurdles, one of the track events in which they excel.
The ongoing joke is that Jeremy is the smart Ruesch and James is the athletic one. It’s funny because the difference in their straight-A grades is measured in 10ths, as is the difference in their race times on the track—differences that are hardly noticeable except to them.
Jeremy says, “We are so similar in behavior, in attitude, in common interests, in the way we react to the environment around us. I don’t think there are a lot of things I could distinguish between the two of us.”
James continues, “We are who we are because of each other. We’ve always had a good friend as well as a brother with the same values. That has helped when we’ve moved around.”
It helps, too, that their outgoing personalities ease the way in making new friends. And they’re not afraid to let their new friends know they are members of the Church.
“People are going to ask,” says Jeremy, “What is the difference between your church and my church? What do you guys believe? They’ve been told things about LDS people by their pastors and parents, but then they know us. And they know that we’re good kids, and they see the example we are at school and the decisions we make. They know some of the things they’ve been told can’t be true. It doesn’t fit us.”
James says, “People accept Jeremy and me and know our standards. We’re the Mormon twins. For example, we’re involved in a lot of athletics. In the locker room it can get kind of sensitive to the ears. Jeremy will say, ‘Hey, watch the Mormon ears.’ He says it in a joking manner but letting them know that it offends us, and that we don’t like hearing that kind of thing. After a while, people will say, ‘Sorry, forgot. Mormon ears.’”
Jeremy continues, “And pretty soon other friends say, when someone else is swearing or taking the Lord’s name in vain, ‘Hey, whoa, we’ve got Mormons around. Can’t say that around these guys.’”
Their friends learn that there are certain activities in which Jeremy and James won’t participate. If they suggest something to do, they might stop and say, “Well, the Ruesches can’t because they’re Mormon, so we’ll do something else.”
Day-to-day life offers opportunities for the Ruesches to teach. “When we get to know new people, they find out that we don’t drink ice tea,” says James. “Because we live in the South, they simply cannot believe we’ve never had tea, ever, not one sip.”
“They find it hard to believe that someone can have such strong convictions,” says Jeremy. “We have to explain that our beliefs are a part of our lives. Our values are a priority.”
Jeremy and James have a strong sense of individual worth, but as twins the whole idea of individuality is an interesting one for them to think about. When they are faced with temptations, they only have to glance at each other before one or the other will say what they are both thinking. They know they can rely on each other to make the right decisions.
“I don’t know if I really do feel like an individual,” says James. “Jeremy and I are best friends for life. I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve been apart for more than a day. We’re always together. Other guys can call up one friend, and the two of them will hang out. If it’s Jeremy and I, we have to call another friend to come and hang out with us.”
“We are who we are because of each other. Growing up, we’ve each had a great friend with the same values,” says James.
But what if you don’t have a twin to be there always supporting you and encouraging you to make the right decisions?
Jeremy and James have some advice, the same advice they give to their 12-year-old sister, Tori.
“I know if my sister picks good friends with good families, it will help. She’ll turn out better with the support of awesome friends.”
James says, “You can’t make people like you, but you can make yourself more likable. Be kind to people. Be interested in what they are doing and what they have to say. Talk to people. Choose friends who will build you up.”
As Jeremy and James were growing up, they developed strong testimonies of their own. “The faith of a child,” says James, “that’s where it started. We do family scripture study every morning at 5:45. I owe my parents everything. I’ve been blessed, and I’ve tried to do what I know is right. That has built my testimony. I’m taking my testimony to heart, applying it, understanding it, believing it.”
“You take seminary,” says Jeremy, “and really start studying the scriptures. The more I study, the more I learn and understand about the gospel. Every little thing makes sense. The things I’ve learned in seminary have been a huge boost to my testimony.”
Now the Ruesches are taking their testimonies to the world. They are separated for the first time in their lives, yet they are united in the message they are teaching in another language in other parts of the world.
They are more than willing to dress the same. But more importantly, their message is the same. It’s a twin thing.

Ladean felt confident as she sat on the piano bench in the Primary room. Her soft blond hair was tied back with a big bow that matched her dress. It seemed like only yesterday that Sister Hayes, the Primary chorister, had asked Ladean to accompany them during an opening song. Ladean had chosen one of her favorite Primary songs, even though it was fairly difficult to play. She had practiced it over and over again for three weeks.
Now the big moment was here. Sister Hayes stood up to lead the opening song and nodded to Ladean to begin. The introduction went fine, but when the Primary children joined in, Ladean’s confidence crumbled. Her heart began to pound louder and louder with every beat. Her hands began to tremble, her fingers stumbled on the keys, and her face blushed with embarrassment. Then she lost her place in the music. The children continued to sing as she frantically tried to reenter the song. But her fingers quivered so much that she could not control them, and before she knew it, the song was over. Tears welled up in Ladean’s eyes as she pushed herself away from the piano and sat down with the other children.
“I’d like to thank Ladean for accompanying us today,” said Sister Hayes. “She worked very hard on this song, and I would like her to help us with it again next week.”
Sister Hayes’s words sounded a fire alarm in Ladean’s mind: Next week? Not me! Never, neveragain. Oh I wish I could just disappear. I don’t want to ever play in front of anyoneagain!
At the end of Primary closing exercises, Sister Hayes quickly grabbed Ladean’s hand and pulled her toward the piano. “Quick, come up and play while the children leave,” she whispered.
Before Ladean could answer, she was staring at the piano keys. Once again her heart began to pound and her fingers trembled, but as she played, her confidence returned. This is right, she thought. I’m playing exactly like I practiced.
Sister Hayes smiled at Ladean. “See—I knew that you could do it.”
Ladean closed the songbook and shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I know this song. Why did I get so nervous? Something was different, but what?”
Sister Hayes put her arm around Ladean. “You’ll get it. Just try it again next Sunday.”
That evening Ladean sat at her piano, mumbling. “Now, the first time I played the song was with the Primary singing. And the second time I was playing alone. That’s it! That’s the difference—I’ve never practiced with singers. That’s why I got so nervous when the children joined in. I need some singers!”
She asked her mother for help. “Mom, will you sing this song while I practice?”
“Who, me? You know that I always sing off-key,” Mom laughed. “Can your father and brothers help out too? Maybe they’ll sing loudly enough to cover up my squeaking.”
“Great!”
Soon the whole family was gathered around the piano. Ladean’s brothers tried to outsing each other, and her father’s booming voice sounded like a bass drum. They all laughed and sang the song over and over until Ladean did not stumble or lose her place at all.
Throughout the following week, whenever Ladean practiced, she could hear her family humming from the other rooms in the house. Pretty soon her brothers would walk in and start singing aloud. Then her mom and dad would join in as well.
That next Sunday, Ladean once again sat at the piano in the Primary room. Sister Hayes nodded at her to begin the introduction. When the children started singing, Ladean smiled as she played. She thought of her family and all the wonderful, happy hours they had shared together, and she played the song through without one mistake.

After the sacrament had been passed, my brother Robert took out a pencil and paper and began to draw. I worried about Robert, a 16-year-old priest, who should be outgrowing that kind of thing by now. I looked at my mother’s face. She seemed composed, as always. She ignored his behavior in church. “I’d rather have him come to church and draw than stay home,” she had told me once. “Someday something will change.”
She and I both knew Robert would rather have been in the hills this morning waking up in a cold sleeping bag. If we had left him at home he would have gone hiking with Juno, his trusty dog. “I get more in the mountains than I ever did in a stuffy old meeting,” he shouted once to my father.
“Nevertheless, we are a church-going family,” Father had said gently. “And you are part of the family while you live here, and you will go with us to church.”
I stared at Robert’s hands. They were roughened young hands, accustomed to chopping and whittling wood, tying knots, digging tent trenches. The fingernails were chipped off and dirty. He looked like he belonged in the mountains, not in church.
Sometimes I thought I could understand him. He wanted to worship out there where he said God really was. He had never read the Book of Mormon; he made jokes in Sunday School class. And I don’t think he ever heard anything that was said in sacrament meeting.
Robert continued to draw and I was watching and shouldn’t have been. I tried to concentrate on the woman who was speaking. She was talking about her son who had just returned from his mission.
I sat up and my eyes opened. I wished Robert were listening instead of making silly drawings.
I thought at that moment that maybe Robert shouldn’t listen because he might be getting some ideas. But I noticed his hand had paused. He was listening! Now all I could do was pray he wouldn’t hear the wrong message in the mother’s speech, and go out with his dog for several days.
I looked over at Robert. He was listening all right. I wasn’t sure that was good. But the mother continued. Her boy had changed. He had gone on a mission. It had been a miracle.
Robert thought he had heard all of the rest of this before and returned to his drawing. And then it was time for the returned missionary to speak.
Robert was not watching the missionary.
The ward members laughed. Even Robert smiled.
I thought Robert would have loved a similar two weeks in the desert right during testing time at school, though I couldn’t imagine him taking the Book of Mormon.
The chapel was hushed. I felt I was not there in the church, but with the missionary on those blue hills in the rain. And so was Robert.
I could hear my own breathing, and I could feel my own heart beat. The piece of the paper with the drawing on it fell to the floor. Robert moved closer to Mother, and she put her arm around him. It seemed that, sitting there in sacrament meeting, we were in our own circle of light.

As a teenager, Richard was determined to earn his own money for college, and he showed a remarkable spirit of adventure in going about it. One summer he worked on an oyster boat off the east coast. Another summer he cut down trees in Utah for the forest service; he also repaired railroad cars.

During a later summer, his application to work for a Utah park service hotel was denied because all the jobs were taken. He tucked away the rejection letter without telling anyone about it and left for Utah. By the time he had made the trip across the United States, he had only three cents left in his pocket.
“Didn’t you receive our letter?” asked the man when he showed up.
“Yes,” Richard replied, “but I would like to work anyway. Is there a position as desk clerk?” The man laughed incredulously. Lowering his expectations, Richard asked, “How about bellboy?” No openings. “All right,” Richard said, “I’ll wash dishes!”
“Forget it,” the man said. “We don’t have any openings.”
Feeling the three pennies in his pocket, Richard was desperate. “I’ll wash dishes for two weeks,” he said, “and if you don’t like my work, you don’t have to pay me.” At least, he thought, that way he’d have a place to stay and have something to eat. The man finally agreed.
Richard washed dishes—but he also went into the kitchen to see if he could help. By the end of summer, he was the number two cook.
These experiences did more than add to his college savings account; they also helped him grow spiritually. During spare minutes he read and pondered the Book of Mormon and experienced a powerful spiritual awakening.

The following story beautifully illustrates that precept.
Several years ago, two men—a Muslim imam and a Christian pastor from Nigeria—stood on opposite sides of a painful religious divide. Each had suffered deeply. And yet, through the healing power of forgiveness, they chose to walk a path together.
Imam Muhammad Ashafa and Pastor James Wuye became friends and unlikely partners in peace. Together they established a center for interfaith mediation. They now teach others to replace hatred with hope. As two-time nominees for the Nobel Peace Prize, they recently became inaugural recipients of the Commonwealth Peace Prize.
These former enemies now travel side by side rebuilding what was broken, living witnesses that the Savior’s invitation to be peacemakers is not only possible—it is powerful.