Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago, our family had an experience which left an indelible impression as to the importance and value and power of a father’s blessing. The lessons learned may be of interest to you.
When our oldest children were ready to begin formal schooling, Sister Bateman and I decided that a father’s blessing would be given to each child at the beginning of the school year. The family home evening preceding the start of school would be the occasion. The year our oldest son, Michael, entered the third grade holds special memories for us. During the preceding summer he had participated in Little League baseball. He loved the sport. When we gathered for family home evening just before the start of school, Michael announced that he did not need a blessing. He had completed his first season in Little League, and blessings were for younger children.
Sister Bateman and I were stunned. We encouraged him, suggesting that a blessing would help him with his schoolwork. It would be a protection to him. It would help him in his relations with his brothers, sisters, and friends. Our encouragement, along with some coaxing, failed. He was too old. Believing in the principle of agency, we were not about to force a blessing on an eight-year-old. All of the children except Michael received a blessing that year.
The school year proceeded normally. Michael and the other children did well in school, and the family enjoyed their associations together. Then the following May arrived, and it was time for Little League baseball to begin. Following the last day of school, Michael’s coach called a team practice. Michael’s anticipation could not have been greater. His dream was about to be realized. He was to be the starting catcher. The baseball diamond was only a few blocks from our home. The boys and the coach walked to the baseball field, crossing a busy highway. Following the practice, the boys and coach started for home. Michael and a friend ran on ahead of the coach and the other boys. As the two boys approached the busy highway, Michael failed to look and darted in front of a car driven by a 16-year-old young man out for his first drive. Can you imagine the fear that must have struck the young man’s heart? He slammed on the brakes and swerved in an attempt to miss the boy. Unfortunately, the side of the front fender and bumper hit Michael and threw him down the highway.
A short time later, Sister Bateman and I received a telephone call from the police. Michael, in critical condition, was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. It was important that we hurry. Before leaving, I called a friend and asked him to meet us at the hospital and assist in giving a blessing. The 20-minute drive was the longest of our lives. We prayed fervently for the life of our son and to know the will of the Lord.
As we parked the car by the door of the emergency room, we saw a policeman exiting with a young man who was crying. The policeman recognized us and introduced the young man as the driver of the car. We knew enough of the story to put our arms around him and tell him that we knew it was not his fault. We then entered the hospital to find Michael. As we entered his room, the doctors and nurses were working feverishly, attending to his needs. My friend had arrived, and we asked if it would be possible to have two or three minutes alone with him. My priesthood brother anointed, and I sealed. As I laid my hands upon Michael’s head, a feeling of comfort and peace came over me, words flowed, and promises were made. He was then rushed to the operating room.
For the next four weeks, Michael lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his leg in traction. Each Wednesday, his Little League teammates would visit him after the game and give him a report. Each Wednesday, tears would well up in Michael’s eyes and run down his cheeks as the boys relived the game. After four weeks in traction, Michael was put in a body cast from his chest to his toes. On two or three occasions we took him to a game to watch his friends play. Another four weeks passed, and the body cast was replaced with a cast from his hip to his toes. Two days before school was to begin, the final cast was removed. As the family gathered the next night for school blessings, is there any wonder as to who wanted the first blessing? A nine-year-old boy, a little older and a lot wiser, was first in line.
Over the years our children have come to understand that accidents are not always prevented by priesthood blessings, but they also know that more than one type of protection is available through the priesthood. Today, our grandchildren are the recipients of priesthood blessings. The tradition is in the second and third generations. We believe that this practice, like the family, will prevail through the eternities.

Immediately following the news of Hurricane Katrina’s destruction, the G. family held a family council and decided to give the money they had saved for new furniture to the Church Humanitarian Fund instead. This brought light to the children’s eyes. Taylor, Nathan, and Zachary asked if they could donate their personal savings to the fund. Their parents agreed. However, after counting their savings, the children said they needed to do more and asked if they could set up a stand to sell lemonade and cookies. They were soon open for business. The three boys manned the stand on Saturday from 10:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., taking no breaks except (in shifts) to eat. They allowed themselves no lemonade or cookies. At the end of the first day, they were elated that they had made $67. They asked permission to open again after school, but were told no. “But there are more people who need help!” the children explained. Mother agreed, and they raised another $24. They were filled with gratitude and joy as they sealed their money in a donation envelope.

The Cantos’ fifth child, Pedrito, was born in a clinic in Quevedo, high in the Andes Mountains near the equator. The boy seemed normal at first, but after two days his bowels had not yet purged their prenatal waste and he was screaming with pain.
His alarmed parents dared not wait even until morning to seek the advice of a specialist, for sudden death had already claimed two of their other children. At three months, Nancy Julema, their third child, had died of an unknown illness. Two years later, their fourth child, one-year-old Juan Carlos, had died of bronchial pneumonia in the arms of his mother on the way to medical help in Guayaquil, Ecuador. The heartbroken mother had gotten off the bus at the next town, but no bus or taxi driver would give her passage back home with the dead child. Finally, in desperation, she had pretended that the child was asleep and hitchhiked a ride part way on a gas truck and then on to Quevedo in a private car.
So, fearing the worst, Pedro Cantos wrapped his newborn son in a blanket, kissed his wife good-bye, and left by taxi for Guayaquil, 175 miles away. As the miles widened between them, the hearts of the parents were as one as they prayed for the life of this child.
When father and son finally arrived at the hospital, the doctors quickly diagnosed the problem as a congenital bowel obstruction, and they immediately made a surgical opening into the colon for drainage.
After three days Pedrito was out of immediate danger. His father returned home to Quevedo, borrowed some money to help pay for the treatment in Guayaquil, and sent his wife back to the hospital to be with their sick baby.
Nancy Cantos and her baby son remained in Guayaquil a month—a sorrowful month for the family. They were given little hope for Pedrito’s recovery, and they didn’t know how or where they could get more money for his care.
Although Pedrito finally grew well enough to come home, he remained ill and feverish. He cried out in pain, unable to sleep or eat. Only forced feedings kept him alive.
At three months, he suffered a severe heart attack. The Cantos then learned that their baby had a serious congenital heart defect. With open-heart surgery he might recover; without surgery he could not possibly live beyond age ten.
And he would always be ill.
Open-heart surgery! But that would cost thousands of dollars. It was impossible!
The saddened parents returned home with their baby. They faced a constant struggle to keep him alive. One day he would seem a bit better; the next day he would be worse again. They had to take him to Guayaquil every two or three weeks for medication and treatment—a financial hardship on their limited income.
In the meantime, they prayed constantly. And their answer came in a dream.
One night when Pedrito was almost ten months old, Nancy dreamed that she saw through her kitchen window—instead of the usual array of crowded buildings—a beautiful, spacious lawn extending as far as she could see. In the distance a man was digging in the earth. She approached him and asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m planting herbs to cure the illnesses of man,” he replied.
Then Nancy saw an unusual tree nearby. “What is the purpose of that tree?” she asked.
“The tree holds the cure for Pedrito’s illness,” replied the stranger.
“Tell me,” she asked eagerly, “how can I give the tree’s medicine to my child?”
Before the stranger could answer, Nancy saw a man in the distance, standing at the window of a house, looking at her. Immediately he and another man, both dressed in white, left the house and approached her.
Frightened, Nancy ran trembling into her own house and bolted the door. They came to her barred window, looked in at her, and asked, “Why are you afraid?”
“Because—because I’m here alone with my sick child.”
“But do you not know that bolted doors and barred windows cannot keep us out?” they asked kindly. “We were sent by God to help you because of your faith and your diligence in studying the Bible and seeking the word of God.”
Instantly they were inside the house, and Nancy woke up.
The dream remained vivid in Nancy’s thoughts, yet she told no one.
A week later, two missionaries knocked on the Cantos’s door. That evening they gave Nancy, Pedro, and their two older sons, Cesar and Fernando, the first discussion.
Before they left, the elders gave the family a Book of Mormon, after first marking for them the passages they had been discussing about Christ’s visit to America. They also felt inspired to underline the passages relating to Lehi’s dream about the tree of life—something they had never done before.
Later, as Nancy Cantos read the account of Lehi’s dream, she became excited. It was so similar to her own! She knew in her heart that this was the answer to their prayers.
Eagerly she read the passages to her husband and told him about her dream. He, too, believed this was their answer. “If we obey God’s commandments and hold to the iron rod, our baby will be healed,” he told his wife.
The Cantos could hardly wait for the next discussion.
One night when the elders came to the Cantos home, Pedrito was unusually ill. The elders felt prompted to discuss the principle of priesthood administrations. The family eagerly sought a blessing for Pedrito, who was so thin you could see the bones under his skin. Up until then, he had been unable to tolerate any food except milk. He could neither walk nor talk, and he rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time.
The elders administered to the child and left the house with a strong feeling that he would recover.
From that time on, Pedrito began to improve. The Cantos family were baptized, and the welfare services missionaries helped Sister Cantos get Pedrito started on solid foods. He began to gain weight, and for the first time in his life, he slept through the night. He also learned to walk and talk. The frequent, costly trips to Guayaquil were no longer necessary.
Then, suddenly, Pedrito became ill again. His temperature was dangerously high, and his parents took him back to Guayaquil. The doctors told them that he would have to remain in the hospital at least five days. They also told the Cantos that if Pedrito were to live, he would have to undergo open-heart surgery right away.
But to everyone’s surprise, Pedrito was well enough to leave the hospital the next day.
Back in Quevedo, the welfare services missionaries helped the Cantos apply for help with the cost of the surgery. The doctors told the Cantos that they would have to go to the United States or Brazil for the surgery. But a member of the Church, who had recently had a family member operated on for a similar problem, told them about another doctor—Dr. Oswald Bonilla, a heart specialist in nearby Quito.
Although his calendar was full for several months, Dr. Bonilla agreed to see Pedrito in two weeks. But complications kept Dr. Bonilla from seeing Pedrito immediately. Sister Cantos had been taking a tailoring class so that she could earn money to help pay some of their medical bills. As the day for the appointment with Dr. Bonilla approached, she learned that her final examination was scheduled for the same day.
Dr. Bonilla graciously postponed the appointment for another two weeks. This time, a bus strike kept them from meeting with him. Finally, after six weeks, they stood before Dr. Bonilla.
Electrocardiograms, x-rays, and many other tests revealed that Pedrito was too weak to endure surgery. “It will take at least eight or nine months to build him up sufficiently,” Dr. Bonilla told the worried parents. The doctor ordered another series of tests.
Three days later, just before Pedrito was taken in for the new tests, two young men in white shirts and dark suits told Dr. Bonilla, “We would like to give the child a blessing.”
“You have five minutes,” the doctor said, and he left the room.
Later that afternoon he whistled in amazement. The test results showed such a remarkable improvement in Pedrito that Dr. Bonilla decided to schedule the surgery immediately.
“It was worse than we thought,” Dr. Bonilla told the parents and the elders and sisters who had waited with them during the five anguish-filled hours of the surgery. “You keep praying, though, and Pedrito will live.”
Pedrito did live. He recovered rapidly. Soon he was running and playing like any other little boy. And Pedrito’s struggle for life has wrought other miracles. Dr. Bonilla and his assistant, Dr. Lopez, were touched by this display of faith and by the miracle they saw when the elders administered to Pedrito. They decided not to charge for the surgery.
Many of Sister Cantos’s family have accepted the gospel, and members of Brother Cantos’s family are anxiously waiting for the missionaries to come to a remote area where they live so that they, too, can be taught the gospel.

Several years ago Sister Ellis and I were called to preside over the Brazil São Paulo North Mission. The call meant that we would be away for three years. Given our family and business situation, we were impressed to keep our home and business in Houston rather than sell them.
As we began to make the necessary arrangements, it became clear we would need to have our lawyer prepare a power of attorney. That is a legal document that gives someone else the authority to do anything in our name. The person with this document could sell our home or other assets, borrow money in our name, spend our money, or even sell our business. The thought of giving someone that much power and authority over our affairs was scary.
We decided to give our power of attorney to a person we trusted, a good friend and partner, who exercised that power and authority very well. He did what we would have done if we were there.
Brethren, think of what the Lord has given us—His power and authority! The power and authority to act for Him in all things pertaining to His work!
With this priesthood power and, when necessary, the authorization of those with appropriate keys, we can perform the ordinances of salvation in His name: baptize for the remission of sins, confirm and confer the Holy Ghost, confer the priesthood and ordain others to priesthood offices, and perform temple ordinances. In His name we can administer His Church. In His name we can bless, home teach, and even heal the sick.
What a trust the Lord has placed in us! Think of it, brethren. He trusts us!
Before we received the priesthood, we had already been prepared and proven. We had exercised faith in Jesus Christ, repented, been baptized, and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. The level of experience we brought to our ordination varied. But the divine procedure was the same. We had been prayed about and interviewed by those exercising priesthood keys. We had been sustained by a vote of the Church members of our unit. We were ordained by one with authority and authorization to do so.
The Lord is careful with His priesthood. To exercise His power and authority is a sacred trust.
How wonderful that we have earned the trust of God! He trusts you! He trusts me!
When we receive the priesthood, we do so by covenant. A covenant is a mutual promise. He promises to bless us on certain conditions. We promise to fulfill those conditions. As we do so, the Lord always keeps His word and gives us the blessing. Usually He gives us more than agreed. He is very generous.
When we receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, we receive what is called “the oath and covenant” of the priesthood. We promise the Lord two things, and He promises us two things. We promise to be “faithful unto the obtaining these two priesthoods” and faithful in “magnifying [our] calling.” He promises that we will be “sanctified by the Spirit.” Then after we are faithful in all things to the end, He promises that “all that my Father hath shall be given [us]” (see D&C 84:33–41).
The Lord blesses His children through our priesthood service. To help us be successful in faithfully rendering priesthood service, He gives us directions and warnings. He has done that in the scriptures and continues to guide us through our leaders and through the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
The scriptures contain many passages of direction and warning to holders of the priesthood. One of the best is section 121 of the Doctrine and Covenants. In those few verses the Lord teaches us that the priesthood can only be exercised in righteousness. We should treat others with persuasion, patience, and kindness. He reminds us of the importance of charity and virtue in having the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost.
That section also warns us of those attitudes and actions that will cause us to lose our priesthood power. If we “aspire to the honors of men,” attempt to “cover our sins,” try to “gratify our pride” or “vain ambition,” or seek to “exercise control” over others, we lose the priesthood power (see vv. 35–37). From that point we would be practicing priestcraft. We would have left the service of God and would be putting ourselves in the service of Satan.
It would be good for priesthood holders to restudy Doctrine and Covenants section 121 regularly. It is easy to understand why our modern prophets have emphasized the need for us to maintain our worthiness and have given us For the Strength of Youth as a guide to help us.
One reason we must maintain our worthiness is that we never know when we will be called upon to use the priesthood.
When our son Matthew was five, he fell from the top of the high diving board at our neighborhood pool. He hit the concrete deck and suffered a fractured skull and a brain concussion. He was rushed by a Life Flight helicopter to the Houston Medical Center for emergency treatment. I needed priesthood assistance immediately. Our home teacher and our priesthood leader were both worthy and prepared at that moment. They helped give Matthew a blessing, and he completely recovered.
We must be ready at any time. As we say in Scouting, “Be prepared.”
Surely we want to avoid priestcraft. But the Apostle Paul warned us of another danger. He warned that in our day there will be those “having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof” (2 Timothy 3:5).
How can we as priesthood holders have a form of godliness but deny the power thereof? Could it be that we hold the priesthood but do not exercise it? visit our families rather than home teach them? pray for someone in an ordinance or ordination instead of blessing them? do the Lord’s work the best way we know how without first pleading to know and do His will in His way?
Remember the Lord’s counsel to us through Nephi that we “must not perform any thing unto the Lord save in the first place [we] shall pray” (2 Nephi 32:9).
Years ago I was called to serve as a counselor in the Houston Texas North Stake presidency. I was studying the parable of the talents. You remember the story. A man needed to go away, so he entrusted his servants with his goods. One received five talents, another two, and the last received one. Upon his return, he asked for an accounting.
The servant who received five and returned ten, as well as the one who took two and returned four, were declared good and faithful servants. But what caught my attention was the servant who received one, took care of it, and returned it safely back to his lord. I was surprised by the response of the master: “Thou wicked and slothful servant, … take therefore the talent from him, … and cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness”! (See Matthew 25:14–30.)
This seemed to be a harsh reaction to one who seemed to be trying to take care of what he was given. But the Spirit taught me this truth—the Lord expects a difference! I knew in that moment that each of us will one day stand before God and give an accounting of our priesthood service and stewardships. Did we make a difference? In my case, was the Houston Texas North Stake better when I was released than when I was called?
Thankfully, the Lord teaches us how to be fruitful, how to make a difference. “He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit” (John 15:5). If we exercise His priesthood in His way, following the direction that we receive from His servants and His Spirit, we will be good and faithful servants!
My dear brethren of the priesthood, the Lord Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer, lives! He knows us; He loves us. He placed His trust in us by giving us His priesthood power and authority. I am a witness of this truth. May we use His power and authority to do His will in His way is my prayer.
As we hear from President Hinckley, President Monson, and President Faust, I bear my personal witness that each is a prophet, seer, and revelator. I am anxious to hear their counsel. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

My wife, Wendy, experienced this difficult situation. For years she had nearly exhausted herself, thinking she had to be the perfect wife and mother, the perfect Church member, the perfect neighbor and citizen. Instead of feeling joy, she often felt overwhelmed and discouraged. Her frustration was further exacerbated when well-intentioned leaders and friends seemed to indicate that if she had enough faith, she would be able to accomplish all these things. Only after a personal crisis of depression and anxiety was she able to understand fully the source of her suffering. It was a painful time not only for her but for our entire family. We have grown stronger and learned many lessons as a result. But perhaps we could have been spared much of the pain if we had more clearly perceived the need to maintain temporal and spiritual balance.
While my wife was struggling to escape from the cycle of faithful works followed by frustration and discouragement, the Spirit of the Lord whispered to her that what she was demanding of herself was not pleasing to the Lord because she was not allowing the Atonement to operate fully in her life. It is not a sign of weakness to avail ourselves of the Atonement. Rather, it shows courage, faith, and gratitude. The Atonement allows us not only to repent of sin but also to receive an outpouring of the Savior’s grace, which strengthens us when we simply do not have the power to overcome our human weaknesses. It allows the Savior to share our burdens and compensate for our many inadequacies (see Matt. 11:28–30; Ether 12:27).

When I was younger, I lived next door to an elderly lady who spent most of her time alone and seldom left her house. When she did leave, she would be gone for a long time, and that is when I went to work.
I would get a rake or snow shovel or broom and sneak around the tall wooden fence that separated our yards and do some yard work. Sometimes I would just leave her a plate of cookies with a note. I tried so hard to be a friend to the lady who lived there, and I thought that if I did these things for her she would be nice to me.
I really enjoyed the extra work because it made me feel good inside, but I thought I would feel even better if she would only acknowledge my kindness. I would watch her come home and feel disappointed because she never made an attempt to show thanks or appreciation. I had worked so hard and never received so much as a smile.
Then one Sunday at church we had a lesson on service, and I realized that I had been performing acts of service for my neighbor with the expectation of getting something in return. I went home and asked my mom about service and she gave me a scripture to read. It was Mosiah 2:17:
“And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”
That taught me a valuable lesson about my activities. And I knew that even if my neighbor didn’t seem to care about my efforts, my Heavenly Father did care.

My senior year in high school came, and my life and the lives of my friends and family were again changing. I had less than a year left in our blue house. Chuck talked about joining the military after graduation, while Ricky hoped to play professional baseball.
Paula had married the year before, to a guy who reminded me of the tall missionary from Massachusetts a decade earlier. In November, she and her husband came from school to our home for Thanksgiving. Paula handed my mother a jar of peanut butter with pink and blue ribbons tied around it. Mother looked sharply at her, and Paula nodded. Then Mom burst into tears. It seemed that my mother had craved peanut butter when she was expecting me. Paula’s present was her way of announcing that a new arrival would be born to the family in the spring.

When I was a boy, we lived in the summer on a fruit farm. We grew great quantities of peaches—carloads of them. Our father took us to tree pruning demonstrations put on by the Agricultural College. Each Saturday during January and February we would go out to the farm and prune the trees. We learned that by clipping and sawing in the right places, even when snow was on the ground and the wood appeared dead, we could shape a tree so that the sun would touch the fruit which was to come with spring and summer. We learned that in February we could pretty well determine the kind of fruit we would pick in September.

There was a time, however, when it appeared that the Church had a very limited future in Ghana. It is impossible to tell the story of Latter-day Saints in this country without explaining what has come to be known as “the Freeze.”
In June 1989 the government banned all public worship, proselyting, and other activities of the Church. Members believe the ban was motivated by widely distributed misinformation about the Church.
In Abomosu, civilian authorities and soldiers escorted President Stephen Abu to the meetinghouse, where everything in the building was inventoried, the keys were confiscated, and he was warned that members were forbidden to use both that property and the Church farm outside the village. Priesthood leaders in other areas of Ghana had similar experiences.
Worship in the home was not expressly forbidden, and members began holding services on a family basis. “But you could not sing loudly, or you would be picked up,” President Abu recalls. He was among those who were jailed or punished after being accused of violating the ban. Some members were evicted by landlords. Despite the risk, however, priesthood leaders continued in their roles as shepherds, quietly visiting individuals and families to lend them strength.
In November 1990, apparently satisfied that Latter-day Saints could contribute to their society, the government lifted the ban. Joyously, Ghanaian members spread the news from home to home. Young Ghanaian missionaries serving in their own country had been honorably released at the beginning of the Freeze, but except for a few who had married or were out of the country, they eagerly returned to finish their missions.
Many members now look back on that period as a blessing that strengthened their faith and brought new spiritual opportunities. John Buah, who has served as a counselor to two mission presidents, notes that “after the Freeze, good people wanted to know more about the Church.” Curious to find out if things they had heard were true, they asked LDS friends or neighbors—and accepted the resulting invitations to learn about the gospel. Many of these people were baptized.

In New Zealand, it isn’t just the girls who get a summer camp. The young men of Tokoroa recently received invites to a “missionary training camp” to promote both Scouting and missionary service.
The camp was divided into four “missions,” and the boys were taught first aid, problem solving alone, and problem solving with a quorum. They listened to guest speakers talk about missionary skills and preparation. They had a number of experiences that helped them grow physically, mentally, and spiritually.
“I enjoyed it soooooo much,” said Lucky Manu. “It has built my confidence to serve the Lord, wear the badge, and be proud to be a missionary.”

7. We prepare for the reproof with prayer whenever possible. On one occasion I was called to counsel with a family in trouble. The father had physically punished his wife and children. Several hours before we met together. I thought about what I should tell them. I fully intended to begin my remarks to this unkind husband with some harsh words about his cruelty to his family but the night I met them, I heard myself saying, “Fred, I love you, and I love your wife and family. I’d like to help you build an eternal home.” He was no longer defensive. His wife was no longer interested in finding fault, they were anxious to make new commitments and forget an unpleasant past history. They were teachable and amenable to some very specific counsel.

Although the afternoon was crisp and cold, inside our house we were warm and snug. In my parents’ room, my three sisters and I were all busily wrapping presents for the Fitzpatricks.* Ever since my early childhood we’d been friends with the Fitzpatricks, and I was always painfully aware of how little the parents and their four children had.
With the gifts in a pile, my sisters and I formed an assembly line wrapping a present and taking it to my mother. After checking the contents of the package, she would decide who would get what, and then sign it “Santa.” She would deposit the gift in a large plastic bag, and we would go to the next one. Using this method we quickly and efficiently finished wrapping the presents in about an hour.
Later that night we all piled into the family van with those plastic bags and headed toward the trailer park where the Fitzpatricks lived. After parking the van, my dad got out, walked to the trailer, and waited at the door. When he was sure no one was home, he unloaded the bags and left them on the porch.
The following Sunday I sat with my family in sacrament meeting. Sitting still and trying to listen was not something I did readily, and soon I became mesmerized by the pictures I was drawing. At one point I glanced up to see Sister Fitzpatrick at the pulpit. But I was only vaguely aware of what she was saying. Suddenly my sister Audrey jabbed me with her elbow and whispered that she was talking about us.
Streaming down her face were tears, and her voice shook as she spoke. She told the congregation how they didn’t have money for Christmas and they weren’t sure what to do. Upon returning that night, they found the bags of presents on their porch. She warmly thanked the gift givers.
The Fitzpatricks never found out who left the Christmas presents for them, although from the pulpit Sister Fitzpatrick said she knew the gifts came from someone in the congregation. Amazingly, tears came to my eyes, and I had to look down to brush them away. That was when I first felt like an angel.

For a parent-child service project (see guidebook, p. 9), Michael’s family decided to make apple pies that each family member could take to someone. Michael asked if he could take his pie to a family who had been unfriendly. Although his mother was concerned, Michael persisted. Michael’s family delivered the pie. They discovered that the family was having hard times and that the unfriendliness was not directed at them. The two families became great friends because Michael wanted to live the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“Once when I was a baby, I was very ill and my father was away from home. It was a Sunday evening, and our home teacher—called a block teacher then—came to our home before sacrament meeting. He had heard that I was ill, and he’d stopped to ask if there was anything that he could do. Mother said no, so he left. But after sacrament meeting he felt impressed to come back. This time Mother asked him to bless me, which he did, and in the blessing he promised that I would recover. That night Mother woke in the middle of the night and checked on me. When she did, she thought that I was dead, because my skin felt cold, but it was only because the fever had left me.”

“Graduation—the lights on the stage dimmed; the time that we had all looked forward to was finally here. The ceremony had been grand; all the pomp and circumstance to fit the occasion had been unfurled. Boy, I sure hoped my rubber nose wouldn’t fall off.” Tim Holst was graduating magna cum laude from the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus clown school. He had even been offered a job with the circus, the Greatest Show on Earth.
“How did all this happen?” he wondered. Tim had been a student at Utah State University studying to get a teaching degree so that he could teach seminary. During the summers he would work in Yellowstone Park in a little summer theater company called the Playmill Theater. Tim was playing, directing, and acting as master of ceremonies for the show when he was spotted by one of the circus promoters for Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. The promoter liked Tim, thought he was funny, and invited him to go to the circus clown school in Florida.
Now Tim had completed the eight-week course in clowning. He had learned the fundamentals of juggling, clowning, acrobatics, gymnastics, make-up, and costuming. The offer of a one-year contract to clown for the circus was appealing. Should he accept? Tim decided not to. He was very close to graduation from college, and he felt that he should finish his schooling. He left Florida after graduating from the clown school and drove back to Utah State University to begin his winter quarter classes.
“Still, I just didn’t feel right,” Tim said. “I felt as though I should get right back to Florida and accept the offer to be a clown for the circus. After much prayer and consideration, and after talking with my parents back in Illinois, I decided to head back to Florida and begin rehearsal as a clown for the upcoming circus season. As I was settling into my new room, there came a knock on my door. I opened the door, and there stood a member of my graduating class, another Tim—Tim Torkildson. He had observed what he thought was something special about me, and Tork (that was his circus nickname) wanted to know about the Church.”
Tork said, “Tim’s life-style was different from anybody else’s, and I wanted to know more about him.”
Tim introduced his friend to the Church, and soon Tork was taking the missionary lessons. After about six weeks Tim baptized Tork in Florida, just a few days before they left on their circus tour of some forty-five cities throughout the United States and Canada. Tim now knew why he had needed to return to Florida. He was to be a “missionary clown.”

Out of the darkness of the early morning came eight rafts of various shapes and designs with their youth crews and supporters. It was the annual raft race for the Auckland New Zealand Harbour Stake, and the first of 12 races was underway.
Races were varied, including combined young men/young women teams and a leaders team. A good day was had by all with the Takapuna Ward young men regaining top prize, the Title of Liberty Challenge Shield.
Work on the Takapuna Ward raft started five months earlier as their deacons, teachers, and priests spent many hours splitting bamboo, heating and bending it into shape, and then lashing every crossbeam. More than 5½ miles of twine (9 km) was used to tie over 3,000 knots—all of which held the raft together. When all the lashings were completed, it was time to stretch the canvas over the frame.
The young men and women helped sew the canvas at the top. Then it was painted and left to dry. Practices were held at every opportunity if the sea at Takapuna Beach was smooth enough and everyone got in the racing mode. All the boys and girls got closer together, and a really strong brotherhood and sisterhood was formed.
One thing teachers quorum president Hunter Amende learned from all the hard work and paddling was, “There is no I in team.”

Let me share with you the true account of one sister, Ellen Yates from Grantsville, Utah. Early in October, 10 years ago, she kissed her husband, Leon, good-bye as he left to go to work in Salt Lake City. This would be the last time she would see Leon alive. He had a collision with a young man 20 years of age who was late for his first job and had tried to pass a slower vehicle, resulting in a head-on collision that killed them both instantly. Sister Yates said that after two compassionate highway patrolmen told her the news, she plunged into shock and grief.
She records, “As I tried to look ahead in life, all I could see was darkness and pain.” It turned out that her husband’s best friend was the bishop of the young man’s ward. The bishop called Sister Yates and told her that the young man’s mother, Jolayne Willmore, wanted to talk with her. She remembers “being shocked because I was so centered on my grief and pain that I had not even thought about the young man and his family. I suddenly realized that here was a mother who was in as much or more pain than I was. I quickly gave my permission … for a visit.”
When Brother and Sister Willmore arrived, they expressed their great sorrow that their son was responsible for Leon’s death and presented her with a picture of the Savior holding a little girl in His arms. Sister Yates says, “When times become too hard to bear, I look at this picture and remember that Christ knows me personally. He knows my loneliness and my trials.” One scripture that comforts Sister Yates is “Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you.”
Each October, Sister Yates and Sister Willmore (both of whom are here together in the Conference Center today) go to the temple together and offer thanks for the Atonement of Jesus Christ, for the plan of salvation, for eternal families, and for the covenants that bind together husbands and wives and families on both sides of the veil. Sister Yates concludes, “Through this trial, I have felt the love of my Father in Heaven and my Savior in greater abundance than I had ever felt before.” She testifies that “there is no grief, no pain, no sickness so great that the Atonement of Christ and the love of Christ cannot heal.” What a wonderful example of love and forgiveness these two sisters have demonstrated. It has allowed the Atonement of Jesus Christ to be efficacious in their lives.

I began investigating the Church as a teenager, but I stopped attending the Sunday meetings because I felt excluded by many of the youth. Some time later, one of those youth invited me to a Church activity. I accepted and liked the activities because they were things I enjoy doing: acting, playing basketball, and running.
As I continued to attend activities, I got to know the youth and realized that many of them went to my school. With time I was able to develop friendships with young men and young women who had the same standards that I live by. I am grateful that someone invited me to a Church activity, and I am grateful that I accepted.

May I share with you one of my holy places? Once, I was feeling overwhelmed, fearful, and completely alone. Silently, I prayed: “Heavenly Father, I do not know how to do this. Please, please, help me!” Soon, an individual unexpectedly came forward, placed a hand on my shoulder, and offered sincere, encouraging words. In that moment, I felt peace. I felt acknowledged. Everything had changed. The words of President Spencer W. Kimball came to mind: “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs.”11 For me, that moment, that place, had become holy.

Many years ago, I went to a meeting with other doctors in a little town in Mexico. One night, one of the doctors suddenly became very ill.
Many doctors were there. But we didn’t have the equipment we needed to help the man who was sick. The nearest hospital was more than 100 miles (160 km) away. It was night, and no planes could fly. We thought he might die. What could we do?
The sick doctor whispered and asked for a priesthood blessing. I put my hands on his head. I felt the Holy Ghost tell me that the sick doctor would get better. He would live and return safely to his home. I gave him this blessing in the name of the Lord.
The next morning, the doctor was much better. A few days later, he was able to go home. We thanked the Lord for this most remarkable blessing.
The lesson we learned was simple: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). We experienced this ourselves. We knew it was true.