Gospel Story Finder

One of the greatest testimony-building experiences in my life came early in my mission. At the Missionary Training Center, I had finished reading the Book of Mormon, and I took the challenge given in Moroni 10:3–5 to pray about the Book of Mormon. As I prayed, I expected an overpowering revelation of the truthfulness of the book, but nothing came.
When it was time for me to fly to South Africa, still nothing had come. A few weeks into my service, I hadn’t yet received an answer to those prayers. I was getting discouraged.
One night, my companion and I had an appointment to teach the first discussion to a preacher. He accepted everything we said until we taught about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. As a new missionary, I didn’t know what to do, but I felt prompted to simply testify. As I bore to him my simple testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, the Spirit touched my heart. I was filled with a sense of peace as I shared with this man a knowledge that I didn’t know I had.
That was an answer to my weeks of prayers. Up to that point I had believed that the Book of Mormon contained God’s word, but now I can say that I know that it is true; it is “another testament of Jesus Christ.”

Photographs by Clayton Chan
Ark loves spicy food. This is a fairly new discovery for him. Back in the Philippines, where he grew up, things tasted a lot less fiery.
But then his father got a job in Malaysia.
At that point, Ark met friends at church who came from all sorts of backgrounds, including a few from India.
“They eat really spicy food!” Ark C., age 14, says about his new friends. “This food is much spicier than I used to eat back home.”
Funny thing, though—Ark never knew what he was missing. Now he enjoys exploring a whole new culinary world.
Of course that’s not the only way Ark’s Church friends have changed his life for the better. “I was happy to move to Malaysia, but sad at the same time. It was all new friends, and it’s hard to talk to new friends.”
But the youth in his new branch helped him make that transition. As a bonus, he now knows a lot more about many different areas. “I’ve learned about different cultures,” he said. “The food is different, and so are the clothes. Their clothes are colorful, and it’s very interesting how they make them!”
There was one group of friends, however, that kept him going more than any other during and after the move: his family.
Ark loves spending time with his family, especially when they play card games. The game Uno is his particular favorite. The reason? “I always win,” he says with a laugh.
He also loves playing Monopoly with his parents and his younger brother, Leif. (His younger sister isn’t quite old enough to join yet.) There’s more going on in the games, however, than chucking dice and spending pretend money. “My parents teach me business strategies and money principles in the games. It’s really helpful advice for the future.”
His dad is a software developer, and his mom used to run her own business in the Philippines. They have a lot of skills to pass down. For his part, Ark is eager to learn everything he can from them. He’s got big plans for his career.
His favorite school subjects are biotech and engineering. Ark wants to become a biotechnician. With his sights set high, he takes every chance he can to learn something new.
Learning from his parents, though, wasn’t always Ark’s preferred source for education. Like his love of spicy food, this discovery of a valued resource came a bit later in his life.
“I used to be very stubborn,” Ark admits. “I didn’t really care about learning from my parents.”
He’d try to go it alone or to learn from his friends and schoolteachers only. Then he read something in the Book of Mormon that made a big difference in how he viewed things.
In Alma chapters 36 and 37, Alma gives advice to his son Helaman. Alma teaches Helaman about everything, from Alma’s own remarkable conversion story (which included three days of being unconscious after an angel told him he wasn’t exactly making the best life choices [see Alma 36:6–10]) to the dangers of secret combinations.
In the middle of it all, a single verse jumped off the page to Ark: “O, remember, my son, and learn wisdom in thy youth; yea, learn in thy youth to keep the commandments of God” (Alma 37:35).
Something clicked in Ark’s mind at those words. “My parents can teach me wisdom too,” he says. All at once he realized he had a wealth of information right in front of him. “Now I care a lot about their wisdom. They love me and can help me prepare for my future.”
They love me and can help me prepare for my future.
And their wisdom goes a lot further than business tips shared during board games.
One valuable lesson Ark’s parents have taught him is to not allow bad influences around him to trip him up. “Here at my school, a lot of kids want me to try coffee, tea, cigarettes, and so forth.”
This is a regular conversation topic at home. “I’ve had a lot of conversations with my parents about this. They repeat themselves a lot,” he jokes.
Still, all that repetition has paid off. Each time he’s asked to do something against his beliefs, Ark draws strength from what his parents have taught him.
Another lesson he’s taken to heart is how to dress. No, Ark didn’t need fashion advice from his parents in order to fit in better at school. In fact, he was doing a little too well in that department. “I used to dress in all the cool clothes,” Ark said. “I was trying to impress girls.”
His parents helped him see, though, that there were also some unintended consequences to dressing that way. “The clothes we wear can influence how other people think about you,” Ark explains. As he paid closer attention, Ark realized he didn’t like some of the ways people seemed to think of him when he dressed like he did before.
Now he chooses more conservative, modest—or, as he likes to call them, “nerdy”—clothes. He likes his new look and feels better spiritually about how he dresses. (Besides, Ark, nerds are cool! Indisputable fact.)
Ark loves where he lives, he loves his family, and he loves learning from his parents.
He also loves learning the gospel.
“I believe that Jesus Christ lives,” Ark says. “I believe our living prophet is President Russell M. Nelson and that through Joseph Smith, Jesus Christ restored His Church. I believe the gospel can help us through our lives and through any obstacles or trials we experience.”
No matter what incredible things Ark is going to learn in the future, he’s already learned some of the most important of all. Near the top of that list is this: spending time with family adds a lot of spice to life!

Not long after being called as a stake patriarch, one of us gave a 93-year-old sister her patriarchal blessing. The words pronounced in that blessing were a heaven-sent message of approval for a life well lived in valiant service to the Lord. More than reassurance, she was given additional counsel and direction for her life both here and hereafter. She was also told that the long-awaited reunion with her beloved eternal companion who had passed away years ago was not far off. Both she and the immediate family members present wept and embraced and celebrated her willingness to seek this revelation from the Lord.

Shortly thereafter, this stalwart sister passed through the veil.

I treasure the memory of that day when I began more fully to understand the power of a patriarchal blessing in whatever season of life it might be received.

Elder Gerrit W. Gong, recently called to serve in the Presidency of the Seventy, remembers a prompting that came to him while he was serving as a missionary in Taiwan.
An investigator came into sacrament meeting. “I felt inspired to write him a short note in Morse code which said something like, ‘Welcome to sacrament meeting. Happy to see you here!’”
The investigator happened to be a radio operator and was delighted to receive the message. “I was amazed that something I had learned years earlier could help me … to reach a certain individual in a particular way,” says Elder Gong.

During my early days in the church, I remember hearing about one Brother, who was the only member of the Church in his family and faced much opposition when he decided to serve a mission. His parents, siblings, and relatives all strongly criticized his decision as a sign that he was discarding his identity for an alien faith. His parents were so disappointed and heartbroken that they disowned him the night before he reported to the mission office.

As a new convert, hearing stories like this Brother’s really made me wonder if the gospel of Jesus Christ really was as foreign and alien to Chinese beliefs as some tend to think.

“Cut your headlights. That must be him. Yep, ’80 rust bucket with an exhaust system loud enough to wake the neighborhood. Okay, he’s far enough ahead of us now. Pull out and follow him,” she said.
“Okay, so we followed him to this church and watched him go in. Now what? We know he hauls himself out of bed at an insane hour every morning to go to this church. You’ve seen what you wanted. Let’s go.”
“No. I want to wait a while and see if anybody else shows up. Then I’m going in to see what’s inside.”
“You’re going in? He’ll recognize you and know something’s up.”
“Don’t worry, baby brother. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m wearing my black wig today. I always wear my blonde wig to school. Anyway, I don’t exactly have the kind of face that will turn any heads. He’ll never know.”
“This is so stupid. If you’re that interested in this guy and his church, why don’t you just ask him what you want to know?”
“Listen. Anyone can mouth scriptures and high-sounding ideas. But does he really believe what he said last Wednesday. I want to know what this guy and everybody else inside are like when they don’t have an audience.”
“You can’t disgrace the Church by doing the right thing. I hear you substituted for the Gospel Essentials teacher this morning.”
Keith shrugged. “Another disaster. I was supposed to be giving a lesson on the importance of baptism, but halfway through the class this black-haired, skinny girl comes in and sits on the back row. All of a sudden the lesson plan goes completely out of my head and I start talking about the plan of salvation. About a half hour of this andshe excuses herself and cuts out of class.”
The bishop raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes that happens to me too. I feel impressed to teach certain principles at certain times.”
But Keith didn’t hear the bishop. “I drove away the only investigator that’s come to that class in a month.”
“Well, how’d it go? You look like you’re hyperventilating and your eyes are red. Should I call the doctor?”
“No, just give me a few minutes. I’ve decided I’m going to need your help tomorrow, though.”

This point struck me several years ago when I realized that my wife and I have done several things we never intended to do! These things were never part of our plans—short or long term. For example, we never planned to settle in Houston, Texas. I never intended to be a financial consultant or to start a business. We did not set out to have nine children. We never envisioned serving seven years in Brazil—as mission president and then in the Area Presidency. As a matter of fact, it was a surprise to be called as a stake president, then a mission president, an Area Seventy, and especially a General Authority.

On the other hand, we had firm plans that I would do the joint JD/MBA program after graduation from college. I had been accepted to Harvard Business School to start that four-year program. The new J. Reuben Clark Law School at BYU was not even on the radar screen. But in the end I attended and graduated from BYU Law School! I have never done the JD/MBA program.

Once I was in the financial consulting business, I found it so flexible that my plan was to never retire but just slow down to an acceptable level. As it turned out, I retired at age fifty-nine. In that business I learned about the tax advantages of a mortgage. As a result, we decided never to pay off our house. But a few years ago, with the counsel of prophets reminding us, we asked the Lord for guidance, and He directed us to pay off the mortgage. We did it as quickly as possible.

So how did all of this happen?

Decision Points

Each time my wife and I came to a decision point, we would think it through, counsel together, and make a decision. Then we would pray to seek the Lord’s confirmation. We always followed the promptings of the Spirit. If the Lord was silent, we would do what seemed best to us in light of what we already knew.

On a daily basis we asked in our prayers for the Lord to guide and direct us. We emphasized, as did Jesus, not our will but Thine be done (see Luke 22:42). Sometimes direction would come when we didn’t even realize we were at a decision point—such as when we paid off our home mortgage.

Our experiences have taught us over and over again that God knows best. For example, we succeeded in paying off that mortgage in 1998. It was on January 21, 1999, that President James E. Faust telephoned us in Houston with the call to be a mission president in Brazil. Because our home was debt free, we had the option to keep it while we served. We much prefer to do things the Lord’s way.

Paul and his parents were walking to church. Paul felt excited. Today was the Primary program! All the children were going to sing songs and share scriptures during church. It was Paul’s first time being in the program.
When they got to the church, Paul saw the missionaries. They had been teaching Paul’s family about the gospel.
“Ready?” Sister Walker said.
Paul nodded. He had learned a scripture. It was about how Jesus asked us to love everyone. Paul was ready to share it!
They all went inside and sat down. Soon the bishop asked the children to come to the front of the chapel. Paul stood with his new friends. He smiled a big smile. He could see his mom and dad smiling too. Then the music began.
“If the Savior stood beside me, would I do the things I do?” Paul tried to sing every word clearly. He imagined Jesus was listening.
In the middle of the song, Paul saw someone open the door at the back of the chapel. A boy named Mark walked in. He was with his family. Mark looked at the other kids singing. He seemed sad.
Maybe he’s sad he got here late, Paul thought. Mark started walking slowly up to the stand.
Paul remembered when he came to Primary for the first time. He was glad that other people sat next to him and were nice.
Paul wanted to help Mark. He waved for Mark to come to him. “Come up here!” Paul mouthed the words.
Mark walked quickly up to the stand. Paul made room for Mark.
He gave Mark a hug. “Thanks for coming,” Paul whispered.
Mark gave Paul a big smile.
Soon the song ended. Paul and Mark sat down together. Paul was glad he could help a friend feel loved and welcome.
You can find “If the Savior Stood Beside Me” in the March 2013 Friend.

[The scene shifts and a spotlight focuses on CATHERINE ANN, who is in Salt Lake City living with her uncle. She is reading a letter that has just arrived.]
CATHERINE ANN: “We’re awful sorry, Miss Russell, to have to give you this sad news by letter. Your father was as fine a man as we knew, and the Order’s going to miss him. Enclosed is a letter he gave us for you just before he died.” [Opening the other letter] Oh, Papa! “My Dearest Catherine Ann, I think I will not see you again, so I must leave you my love on paper. You mustn’t sorrow much. Only look forward to us being together again when things get more permanent. It makes it easier for me to go—knowing that I can have again the people that I love. Don’t forget, my darling, all that really matters in the world are the people that you love. Your Uncle Alfred will let you stay with them as long as you want. He says you’re a fine influence, and that makes me proud. I am proud of you, Catherine Ann. One thing more. I don’t want you to feel guilty about leaving the Order. It wasn’t meant for people to be clear perfect in this life, just to be getting a little bit better each day. That’s what I hope for you, Catherine Ann, and I know you will. Just a little better each day. And when we’re all the way perfect, that’ll be heaven. Till then, I leave you my love and my blessing. Your Father.”
Oh, Papa! [Reading again] “P.S. Your necklace is under my mattress.”
[CATHERINE ANN presses the letter to her heart and looks up.]
Things aren’t very important, are they, Papa?
[She sings softly.]
A few lovely things that belong to just her
A girl can hardly do without.
Oh, I need—yes, I need—
[She breaks off, turns, and runs out.]
[The play closes with CATHERINE ANN returning to Orderville. She has resolved in her own mind what is most important in life and has decided that her love for MATTHEW is real. The couple approach one another for the first time since being separated.]
MATTHEW [hesitantly]: I was awful sorry about your father.
CATHERINE ANN [nodding]: Sometimes it takes bad things to teach us good things, I guess. [He doesn’t answer.] A man doesn’t take a lot with him when he dies. Mostly he just takes what he’s given away. I’ve been wondering if I’ll have as much to take as Papa did. Oh, I’ve been learning some things, Matthew.
MATTHEW [hopefully]: About what?
CATHERINE ANN: About love. About me—and you. [She holds out her arms to MATTHEW. He comes to her, and they embrace.] Oh, Matthew, I’ve come home.
MATTHEW: I’m glad. I’m awful glad.
CATHERINE ANN: And I want to stay right here. Here in Orderville. I told you there were lots of things I needed that the storehouse couldn’t provide. Guess there still are. But you’re the only thing I can’t do without. And there’ll be time for the others. Besides, I want to learn more about giving. And I can’t think of a better place to do it.

Two days before the reception Grandpa and I were sitting in my bedroom drinking apple juice and club soda. Grandpa told me again about the day he married Great-grandma Marie, the civil ceremony in Fremont, and then, the train ride to Salt Lake City.
“Ted and Katie can fly to Salt Lake and get married tomorrow. But it took us three days by train,” Grandpa explained. “So we were married before, to make the trip respectable. It was an expensive marriage for me, but it was worth it.” He smiled at me. “The right things are difficult sometimes, but they’re always worth it.”

A few years ago I woke up one morning to find a text informing me that our stake center was on fire. When I learned from the investigation that it was arson,7 I felt very unsettled, given how much time I usually spent in the building, and I wondered whether or not they would find the arsonist.

One day the Savior’s words came clearly to my mind: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.”8 These words of the Lord softened my heart, and gradually I genuinely began to desire good things for the person responsible for the fire. I felt prompted to ask our stake to pray for this person so that they could also find healing.

Although the person who started the fire has never been identified, I find myself—even today as I speak—still hoping and praying that they have been able to heal and find peace. I learned that the Savior cherishes each of His children. His words changed my heart, brought peace, and gave me strength to turn the matter over to Him.

It was in that vision that the Father, pointing to Jesus Christ, told the teenage Joseph, “This is my beloved Son. Hear him!” As a young boy, our ohana had the opportunity to visit the birthplace of the restoration: Palmyra, New York. There we visited the Sacred Grove, where the 1st vision took place as well as Hill Cumorah where Joseph Smith received the Gold Plates.
However, sisters and brothers, it was not there that I received MY testimony of the first vision and the Book of Mormon. My “Sacred Grove” experience came on a cold winter night while walking back to my dorm at Helaman Halls during my Freshman year at BYU in Provo. I had prayed to know if the Book of Mormon was true as invited by the Prophet Moroni in Moroni 10:3-5. That night, I felt not Utah winter cold, but a Hawaii burning in my bosom. I knew it was TRUE. Have you experienced your sacred grove moment?

As I searched the scriptures during this time, I noticed there were many couples who suffered from infertility: Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, Elkanah and Hannah, and Zachariah and Elisabeth. This surprised me. The Bible covers only a tiny piece of a vast history. Why would God inspire prophets to include so many stories of infertility? This felt like the beginning of an answer to my prayers; there was something here for me to learn. So I decided to study each of the women in these stories, and as I studied, I learned four important lessons that helped me grow and find peace despite my struggles with infertility.
When faced with infertility, I found it hard not to feel like it was my fault, that God didn’t trust me for some reason. Was I not faithful enough? Would I not be a good enough mother? I would lie awake at night after my husband fell asleep, aching to know what characteristic I lacked. My brain said I was being unreasonable. My heart kept me awake. One of the greatest lessons I learned from studying these women in the Bible is that my infertility was in no way tied to God’s trust or lack of trust in me.
The amount of information I could find about each childless woman varied, but they all had certain things in common. Their lives were not easy, and childlessness was just one part of that. Most experienced the reproach of others as a result of their childlessness. Several had to wait a long time for children. Yet they kept the commandments and they prayed. After Hannah finally had a son, she brought him to Eli the priest and reminded him of her prayers: “Oh my lord, … I am the woman that stood by thee here, praying unto the Lord. For this child I prayed” (1 Samuel 1:26–27; see also verses 10–12).
They all remained strong and faithful women, even when their prayers and supplications for children weren’t immediately answered in the way they expected. And that was the point. Their faith was not contingent on the answer they received or whether they had children in this life. They had chosen to trust in our Heavenly Father. And I could do the same.
When these women eventually had children, they raised some of the most incredible and faithful men to have lived on this earth: Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Samuel, and John the Baptist. As I considered the impact each of these men had on the world, I was struck by the trust Heavenly Father had placed in these women, by the trust He places in anyone He asks to teach His children—mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, Sunday School teachers, bishops, nursery leaders, and others. In the eyes of God, these women were not defined by their infertility, and neither was I. We are daughters and sons of God, and He believes in us.
A Willing Woman, by Caitlin Connolly, may not be copied
I love the story of Elisabeth, the mother of John the Baptist. We know so little about her and yet I learned so much from her. Elisabeth and her husband, Zacharias, had prayed for children, but those prayers hadn’t been answered in the way they hoped. On top of that, others regarded her with disdain because of her lack of children, which I’m sure only exacerbated her heartache.1 Despite this, she and her husband remained faithful to the commandments and ordinances of the Lord. They must have been incredible people.
Eventually they were blessed with a son. I wonder how Elisabeth felt when she realized that the timing of her pregnancy was at least in part caused by the fact that her son, John, would prepare the way for the Messiah. Being the faithful woman that she was, she probably used it as a lesson to teach her son to trust in the timing of the Lord.
Elisabeth reminded me that I can see only a tiny sliver of what the Lord sees. This thought kept me going after each failed infertility treatment. I could not understand why the Lord kept directing us down paths that seemed like failures because they didn’t end with us having a baby. Now, looking back, I can see how each of those seeming failures was an important stepping-stone on our path to understanding His timing.
President Russell M. Nelson once encouraged the “childless sisters” of the Church to “remember [that] the eternal timetable of the Lord is much longer than the lonely hours of your preparation or the total of this mortal life. These are only as microseconds when compared to eternity.”2 I know that there is so much more that He sees and knows about our future, and if we listen to Him, He will always direct us down paths that will eventually lead to great happiness.
Another woman in the Bible whose experience I learned from was Eve. I have always loved and looked up to Eve. She was faithful, courageous, compassionate, and wise. Considering her story through the lens of my struggles with infertility has only deepened my admiration for this incredible woman. I do not know if Eve was fully aware of her inability to have children without leaving the Garden of Eden, but Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explains that Eve “understood that she and Adam had to fall in order that ‘men [and women] might be’ [2 Nephi 2:25] and that there would be joy”3 (see 2 Nephi 2:22–25).
We know how Eve came to view her decision to eat of the fruit in hindsight. After Adam and Eve were cast out of the garden, an angel came and taught them of Jesus Christ and His Atonement (see Moses 5:6–9). Afterwards the Holy Ghost fell upon Adam, causing him to testify. Eve happily said, “Were it not for our transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient” (Moses 5:11; emphasis added). She found joy in her decision. I cannot imagine how painful it was to be cast out, to leave the presence of the God she loved. And yet, as she looked back on that decision, she rejoiced in the knowledge she had gained, knowing that, through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, she could eventually return to our Heavenly Father. Eve taught me to find happiness in the present. She could have spent her life wishing she were still in the Garden of Eden, yearning for the life she had left behind. Instead, she found joy in her current situation: in her children, in the knowledge she had gained, and in the power of the Savior’s Atonement. Eve’s lesson was a powerful one for me. During my struggle with infertility, I was often tempted to focus on only what I lacked, but by focusing on the present I too found joy.
Among other things, I was able to use this time to volunteer as an ordinance worker in the temple. Before, I attended the temple because that was what I was supposed to do. But now I love it even more. I have a deep appreciation for the ordinances we receive in the temple. The blessings promised to those who keep their covenants are incredible! And they are given to everyone. Young and old. Physically fit and disabled. Married and unmarried. Those with children and those without. I am a different person because I served in the temple. I value eternal families more. I have a deeper understanding of the Savior’s Atonement. I pray more consciously. And I know that the greater knowledge and faith I gained from serving in the temple will make me a better mother.
Mothers Teaching, by Caitlin Connolly, may not be copied
Eve also taught me that being a mother does not have to be tied to having children: both God the Father and Adam called Eve “the mother of all living” (Genesis 3:20; Moses 4:26) before she ever bore a child.4 As Ardeth Greene Kapp, who served as Young Women General President and who was never able to have children herself, asked, “Is motherhood reserved only for those who give birth? Was not the sacred mission of motherhood foreordained by God for all women before the world was?”5 She also observed: “I have come to know that we can all … rejoice in the sacred calling of motherhood. To give birth is but one part of this sacred calling.”6 This realization was a soothing balm to my broken heart. I was a mother—not in the traditional sense, certainly, but I had a role to play, a responsibility to bear.
Sheri Dew, former Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, said:
“Motherhood is more than bearing children, though it is certainly that. It is the essence of who we are as women. It defines our very identity, our divine stature and nature, and the unique traits our Father gave us. …
“As daughters of our Heavenly Father, and as daughters of Eve, we are all mothers and we have always been mothers.”7
Through Eve’s experience, I realized that motherhood is a calling to love, nurture, and lead those of a younger generation, and I had that calling regardless of whether I bore children. Within days of discovering that I had infertility problems, I was called as a Young Women leader in my ward. I know this was a merciful blessing from a loving Heavenly Father. As I poured my heart into that calling, each girl became like a daughter to me. I felt a love for them that could only have come from their Heavenly Father. I was able to experience what it means to be a mother without bearing children, and it was beautiful.
I am grateful for the stories of these wonderful, righteous women in the Bible. I never expected to relate so deeply to women who lived in such a different time from my own, but their faith and courage in the face of infertility have meant so much to me. I have learned to more fully trust that I am a daughter of God and that He loves me, believes in me, and has a plan for me. I have learned to love the temple and to find opportunities to learn even in the middle of heartache. I have gained a greater understanding of what it means to be a mother. Most importantly, I have learned that even the smallest details in the scriptures can be used by a loving Heavenly Father to give us knowledge and comfort.

Joan smiled and flashed her crossed fingers at Bob and Drew as she entered class. The three had completed a special class on how to take tests just in time for midterm exams. It came as no surprise when Mr. Smith, their history teacher, announced the midterm. Joan turned to section one of her notes from the test class: “What You Should Know about a Test.” Her hand flew into the air.
“Mr. Smith, what kind of test will it be?” she asked. “I mean, like true-false or multiple choice.”
“Multiple choice,” he replied.
“How many questions will there be?” Joan pressed.
“Fifty even,” responded the teacher.
Joan followed her outline. “What will the test cover—what chapters in the book? And will it cover our class notes, too?”
“The test will cover chapters one through five in the text and a handful of questions on your notes,” he replied.
“Can you be more specific about the class-note questions?” Joan persisted.
“There will be about ten questions from your notes, and they will cover the same period as your chapter on the revolutionary war through the civil war. Any more questions?” Mr. Smith asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Joan broke in. “Will we have the whole class period for the test?”
“No, we’ll take a little break for roll call,” Mr. Smith quipped.
Everyone laughed, but Joan continued, “You didn’t tell us when the test will be.”
“Right,” answered Mr. Smith. “You haven’t given me a chance! The test will be on Monday, one week from today.”
Bob groaned out loud. That was the same day as his English midterm. Drew Stevens tapped Joan on the shoulder. “Way to go,” he whispered. “Mr. Smith has never been pinned down like that before!”
As they left class that day, Bob complained to Drew, “The teachers must sit in the faculty room during lunch and plan their schedules so tests all fall on the same day!”
“I know,” responded Jim. “I’ve got a math midterm that day, too.”
That night Bob went to work. He flipped through his test class notes to section two: “How to Prepare for a Test.” Mr. Smith had announced 40 questions from the textbook covering five chapters. That would average eight questions per chapter. If he made up his own test with questions from each chapter, his chances would be good of selecting some of the same test questions chosen by Mr. Smith. He had seven days to prepare for the test. If he made up a chapter test each night on his class notes, he would have one day left for general review.
Next Bob planned for his English exam. They had studied 12 authors, but there were only three essay questions on the famous authors. If he reviewed two authors a night, he’d still have Sunday without any studying. A light review before the exam and he would be ready. Bob hoped the plan would work. He always tightened during tests and forgot almost everything.
Bob set aside the English and returned to the history. He skimmed through chapter one. To be sure he had the main ideas, he wrote down the major headings in bold black print. Then he went back and read the material in detail, carefully noting and underlining names, places, and dates. It took him 45 minutes to finish. After a 15-minute break, he started a crucial step: sorting and coding his notes. He coded the material #1 if he was sure it would be on the test, #2 if he felt it could be on the test, and #3 if it might be on the test. He wrote out each question and the answer, and then recorded the questions and answers on his tape recorder. Using an earphone, he would be able to listen to his sample questions many times while riding to school on the bus and even during study period in the library.
Joan began studying her notes first. She had carefully followed the instructions given in the test class: “Teachers will tell you what will be on a test in four ways: (1) they will come right out and tell you, ‘You had better know this; it’s important that you understand this; etc.’; (2) they will write key points on the board; (3) they will repeat a key point several times; (4) they will spend a great deal of time talking about a specific point.” The instructions in the test class were: “Be test-wise when you take notes; put an asterisk by any material that meets the four rules.” Joan also made up a test by using the material in her notes marked with an asterisk.
Drew’s job was not as easy. Besides the history test, he had a midterm in math. Unfortunately he ignored his notes and began working the exercises at the end of the chapter. In ten minutes he was so frustrated that he couldn’t think. In desperation he turned to an example worked in the book and tried to follow it. It didn’t make sense either. He sat back in his chair and flipped to the section in his test notes on math and science tests. A sentence in bold type jumped off the page at him: “If you do not understand a principle or cannot work a problem—stop! Ask your teacher for help immediately!” Drew decided that was the best course of action. He put his math away and started to review for the history test.
The next day Drew went to Mr. Cragun and asked for special help. Mr. Cragun arranged to meet with him after school. It took less than 15 minutes for Drew to discover the small but crucial step he had overlooked the night before. He read the study outline from the test notes and followed the five steps: (1) Work the example in the book. (2) Substitute your own numbers in the example and work it again. (3) Work it backwards to check your answer. (4) Work the problems at the end of the chapter. (5) Get extra help on any you cannot work.
Drew had always tried to cram hard the day before a test, but this time he confidently went to bed early. The math test had ten problems. Drew remembered the strategy—work all problems you know you can work first; then work those you think you know. Finally, take a short break by stretching and thinking of something pleasant for a minute, and then go back and try the ones that have given you trouble.
Drew followed the plan. He worked problems 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8 and 9. He went back and struggled through problems 7 and 10. He was working on the final problem when the bell rang.
Meanwhile, for the English test Bob had made some calculations on which three authors Miss Elgart would ask about. She seemed to have four favorites. Bob talked to some of the students who had taken English from her the year before. He found out that she didn’t ask trivial or tricky questions. He studied all twelve authors but put extra work in on her four favorites.
Bob smiled broadly to himself as he looked at the test. He was two-thirds right. Two of the three questions asked about the authors he had singled out. “Not bad!” he said to himself.
Bob prepared to make an outline of each author. There were 45 minutes left in the class period when they received the test. It consisted of three questions, allowing 15 minutes per question. The first question was, “What were the main influences on Hemingway’s writing style?” Bob rewrote the question at the top of his outline: “What happened in Hemingway’s life to make him write the way he did?” The following is his outline using the facts he knew about Hemingway:
Born in a small town in Minnesota.
Father educated as a doctor.
Reporter for newspaper.
Short, brief newspaper style.
Factual.
Service with Italian army.
Saw death and destruction.
Was hurt himself.
Spanish Civil War.
Politics.
More destruction.
Personal Reactions.
Sadness over human misery.
Anger at human folly.
Greatest war story: “A Farewell to Arms.”
Later in the history exam Bob felt himself getting uptight as the teacher passed the exams out. He thought about the 185 game he had bowled the night before, and he took several slow, deep breaths, forcing out his stomach. Soon he felt relaxed. His confidence grew as he read the first three questions. They looked exactly like questions from the test he made up. He attacked the test with cool vigor.
In her history test Joan completed only the questions she knew. She circled the number of the others. Her sample test had been a good one; she knew 36 of the 50 answers. She went back to the 14 questions she was not sure of, eliminated those choices she knew were wrong, and then used her first impressions about the right answer. She completed ten more questions. Then she studied the answers in the four remaining questions. She crossed out two choices on one question because they had the words always and never in the sentences. She finally circled the alternative that had the word usually in it. The three remaining questions were dates. Question 17 was, “What was the date of the Battle of Bull Run?” Joan tried to remember the events. Bull Run was an early victory for the South. “Probably in the first year of the war,” she thought. She remembered the war began in 1861. She looked down the choices and circled choice C—1862. The other choices on the last two questions drew a complete blank, so she circled C for both of them—remembering instructions in the test class to that effect.
By Friday the test results were back. Drew got a 91 on the math test. He missed half of one problem, but had even been given part credit for his work on the one he hadn’t finished. Ninety-one was third best in the class and better than Drew had ever done. Joan’s history score was the highest in the class. Bob was walking on air when he got his English exam back. He had never done better than a C+ on an English test. The A- he received was better than he had dared hope. He had come from his usual C- to a B+ in history. But Drew felt prouder than both. Bob and Joan. He had gone from his usual D+ to a solid B on his history test.

Back in November of 2003, I was attending a professional conference in Philadelphia. Between sessions, I took a walk to revisit some of the places I knew from my childhood. During my walk, I was surprised to witness the completion of the Philadelphia Marathon that was being held that day. I was drawn to the final mile or so of the marathon route where I witnessed thousands and thousands of spectators lined up on both sides of the street loudly cheering every runner that went by. It takes a long time to finish up a marathon. From the time the first place runner finishes to the time the last place runner comes in can be many hours. I spent a little more than an hour observing what was going on during that final mile or so. During that time, I saw thousands of people festively cheering as every runner struggled down the last few blocks gasping for breath. Every runner was made to feel that he or she was a hero, a man or woman of worth, accomplishment, and value. And I am sure that hardly anybody knew anybody. They just cheered unconditionally.

Sometimes I think that we worry too much about questions concerning others that no one should worry about at all, or at the very worst, should only be addressed by their good bishop, stake president or in other sacred situations. You see, as the runners in the marathon were passing by, nobody in the cheering crowd asked if they were worthy enough to be appreciated.
Nobody asked if on their missions they were Assistants to the President.
Nobody inquired if they came from a large family or a small one.
Nobody asked if they bought their clothes at The Gap or at D. I.
Nobody worried if they came from an active family or an inactive one.
Nobody asked if they got their Eagle or their Young Woman’s Medallion.
Nobody posed any questions concerning the political affiliations of their parents.
Nobody inquired if they could have gotten into BYU-Provo or what their ACT was.
Nobody asked if they had been in the popular group in high school. Nobody asked. . . . Yet the cheering went on and on.

Those people were celebrated for one simple reason. They were celebrated because they are our fellow human beings, our brothers and sisters here on this earth. Like the rest of us, they struggle, they worry, they do good deeds and bad ones. They ponder, plead and pray. And right then as they were finishing the marathon, right then they were successful in at least one thing, at least one very difficult endeavor. At least one success in the midst of their many failures and insecurities. At least one. That’s why they were celebrated.

When I first became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, I had the opportunity to accompany President N. Eldon Tanner, a counselor to President David O. McKay, to a stake conference in Alberta, Canada. During the meeting, the stake president read the names of four brethren who had qualified to be ordained elders. These were men whom President Tanner knew, for at one time he had lived in that area. But President Tanner knew and remembered them as they once were and did not know that they had turned their lives around and had fully qualified to become elders.

The stake president read the name of the first man and asked him to stand. President Tanner whispered to me, “Look at him. I never thought he would make it.” The stake president read the name of the second man, and he stood. President Tanner nudged me again and reported his astonishment. And so it was with all four of the brethren.

After the meeting, President Tanner and I had the opportunity to congratulate these four brethren. They had demonstrated that men can change.

Some years ago in the Salt Lake Tabernacle, Elder Marion D. Hanks conducted a panel discussion. Included in that panel was an attractive and able young woman, divorced, the mother of seven children then ranging in ages from 7 to 16. She said that one evening she went across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. Listen to her words, as I recall them:
“As I turned around to walk back home, I could see my house lighted up. I could hear echoes of my children as I had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier. They were saying: ‘Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?’ ‘Can you take me to the library?’ ‘I have to get some poster paper tonight.’ Tired and weary, I looked at that house and saw the light on in each of the rooms. I thought of all of those children who were home waiting for me to come and meet their needs. My burdens felt heavier than I could bear.
“I remember looking through tears toward the sky, and I said, ‘Dear Father, I just can’t do it tonight. I’m too tired. I can’t face it. I can’t go home and take care of all those children alone. Could I just come to You and stay with You for just one night? I’ll come back in the morning.’
“I didn’t really hear the words of reply, but I heard them in my mind. The answer was: ‘No, little one, you can’t come to me now. You would never wish to come back. But I can come to you.’”
There are so very many like this young mother, who found herself in loneliness and desperation but was fortunate enough to have faith in the Lord, who could love her and help her.

We need to help our children gain a sense of their relationship with Heavenly Father. They can know that each person is a literal child of God, that each is born with a divine birthright and unlimited potential. When my nephew was four years old, his father took great delight in asking him to repeat his name. Rich would ask, “Mark, what is your name?” Mark would stand up tall and answer with a happy grin, “My name is Mark Andrew Broadbent, Child of God.” When our children understand that Heavenly Father is real and that He loves and cares about each of them, they will want to walk uprightly.

“Roberts, we’ve got you surrounded, so don’t try anything. We think the whole structure may be weakened. So just sit still until we can get both of you out safely. You’ve got a charge of kidnapping against you, but things will go easier for you if the girl gets down safely.”
The policeman handed the portable megaphone to Charly’s mother. “Charly, this is your mother. Don’t worry. The police are doing everything possible to get you down. Just don’t panic …” She broke down and began to sob.
Charly, her long, wheat-blonde hair waving as the car of the stalled Ferris wheel rocked gently in the wind, grabbed my hand and smiled. “Roberts, I hope you let this be a lesson to you. You can’t hi-jack a Ferris wheel to Cuba.”
It started innocently enough a year ago in May. Dad and I had jogged our two miles in the morning, and we were eating our nutlike cereal on the patio overlooking the city.
“Sam, you know the new manager I was telling you about?” Dad said as he took a vitamin pill and downed it with the rest of his orange juice. “Transferred here from Boston. He’s finally found a house, and his family moved out here last week. He has a daughter Charlene about your age. Naturally, she doesn’t know anybody here.”
He paused, hoping I would volunteer and not force him to spell it out. “I was wondering if you’d take her out once just as a favor.”
“Well, I’d like to but I’m kind of low on money right now. They don’t pay much in the basement,” I said, referring to his office on the eighth floor and my summer job as a shipping clerk in the basement of one of the large buildings in the city.
“Maybe I could help you out,” Dad said. I was enjoying this.
“I won’t need much. I’ll take her to the museum, and then to the visitor’s center, and then to the drug store for a milk shake.”
“Why don’t you take her to the country club for dinner?”
“Okay. I’ll even get my jeep washed. I sure wish I could get it out of four-wheel drive.”
“Okay. You win; take my car.”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks, Dad.”
A few days later I made my way to her home. It was an ornate building, a little north of the capitol. I spent about ten minutes talking with her parents about the difference in humidity between Boston and Utah. Then finally she came down the stairs.
She was almost as tall as I, with a face that didn’t need make-up. She was skinny and looked like a model for a diet soft drink.
I stood up, remembering a Cary Grant movie I saw once on TV. “Charlene, it is indeed a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she said. As we shook hands she, still smiling, dug her finger nails into my palm.
We drove silently down the interstate to the country club.
“How much did your dad pay you for taking me out?” she asked.
“I was happy to ask you out,” I exaggerated.
“What would you think about turning off the air conditioning? It’s freezing in here.”
“Why don’t you check the blower so it’s not aimed directly at you? It’s very seldom I get to drive a car with air conditioning.”
She sat and glared at the dashboard.
“Tell me, Charlene, how do you find the difference in humidity here as compared to Boston?”
“Don’t call me Charlene.”
“What then?”
“Charly.”
She opened the side window and deliberately adjusted it so the hot air outside was blowing directly at me.
“It’s wasting gas to have the air conditioner on and the window open,” I said.
“You never told me how much your dad is paying you to take me out.”
“Not enough, I think.”
She folded her arms, turning away from me. The periodic brightness as we passed lamp posts showed tears on her face.
“I didn’t mean that. Look, I’m turning off the air conditioner. There’s a Kleenex in the glove compartment.”
“Why would I want one?” she asked.
“Because you’re crying.”
“I’m not crying. My contacts are bothering me.”
“Well, whatever,” I replied. “The Kleenex is still in the jockey box.”
“I’ve got my own,” she said, rummaging through an old leather bag. Eventually she found one crumpled tissue that she smoothed out and used. “Will you take me home please?”
We rode in silence back to her home. I shut off the motor at her curb. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
“It’s no big thing.”
“I did my best to make it a night you’d enjoy.”
“Implying that I didn’t do my best?”
“No, you probably did the best you could,” I answered.
“I’d better go now. It’s getting late,” she said.
“It’s only nine o’clock.”
“Time really flies when I’m with you. I thought it was eleven.”
“You think it’s easy going out with a girl from Boston? My dad and I thought you’d like the country club.”
“Listening to you talk about humidity and watching old golfers slap each other on the back?”
“Well, it’s not my idea of fun either,” I said.
“No?” We stopped halfway up the walk.
“No.”
We walked back to the curb, sat down and talked about things we always wanted to do but could never find anyone else to do them with.
A few minutes later we got back in the car, drove to a park, and bought 30 dollars worth of tickets for the Ferris wheel.
“What’s your name?” Charly asked the attendant as he helped her into the Ferris wheel car.
“Raferty.”
“Mr. Raferty, I’d like you to meet my fiancé. He’s just proposed, and you’re the first one we’ve told.”
“It’s not true,” I said. “I’ve just met her.”
Mr. Raferty was hard of hearing. “Congratulations, kids.”
“Thank you,” Charly smiled. “Sam and I want to ride on your Ferris wheel for a long time. You understand, don’t you?”
“Sure, I’m not that old,” he said as I gave him several tickets.
We rode and talked. Up over the trees, the laughing children, the crying children, the picnicking families, the merry-go-round, and then back to earth and Mr. Raferty, who gave us a wink as often as he could.
“Sam, alias Utah Kid, maybe we’re going to be friends.”
I took her to church that next Sunday. The following Wednesday she began the missionary lessons. She began to jog with Dad and me in the mornings.
About three weeks later I took her fishing with me at Strawberry Reservoir. We left about four in the morning. When we got there, we rented a boat, rowed out to my favorite spot, and threw out the anchors. I baited the hooks with cheese and marshmallows and tossed my line out.
She curled up and went to sleep.
When she woke up, I had caught four nice trout, the sun had come and driven off the patches of fog, and ten other boats were anchored near us.
She studied the people in the boats around us. They were sitting quietly, watching their lines.
Suddenly she stood up, cleared her throat, and addressed the boaters with a Kissinger-like accent. “I suppose you know why we have asked you here this morning. We’ll dispense with the minutes and move right along.”
The people in the boats looked at her with disbelief.
“Because some of you have been putting marshmallows on your hooks, the Fish and Game Department has asked me to speak today. Clinical reports indicate that the fish in this lake have 53 percent more cavities. Do you know what this means?” she asked.
She waited. Most of the other boaters tried to ignore her. But that was hard to do.
“It means that the state of Utah now must stand the expense of sending a trout through dental school.”
“Charly?” I asked.
“Yes, Utah,” she said meekly.
“Normally we don’t talk between boats. Please sit down.”
I baited her hook and tossed it out. In a few minutes her line began to feed out steadily. I could tell it was going to be big when she set the hook. She followed my directions, and soon I dipped the net into the water, bringing up a four-pound rainbow.
After the fish had been taken care of, she stood up again and addressed the other boaters. “Do you people wish to know how I caught this fish? I used peanut butter on my hook. It sticks very well, it’s nutritious, and it does not cause cavities.”
I pulled in the anchors and began to row out farther.
“We recommend creamy instead of chunky,” she shouted as a parting shot.
“Sam, where are we going?”
“Away.”
“Is the fishing better where we’re going?”
“No.”
“I embarrassed you; is that it? Go ahead and say it.”
“You embarrassed me.” I splashed a little water on her so she wouldn’t think I was mad.
“You’ve got no sense of humor, Utah. Life is for laughing.”
I stopped rowing and threw out the anchors again.
“Sam, how many of those people in the boats do you think were Mormons?”
“Maybe half.”
“A school of Mormons,” she said.
I baited the hooks again and tossed the lines out. “Charly, you haven’t said much about the Church to me, except ‘Very interesting.’”
“Very interesting,” she mocked. “I wanted to be fair, Sam. We New Englanders are noted for our fairness.”
“Yes, I’ve read about the Salem witch trials,” I countered.
“Very good, Sam. Stick with me and I’ll make you a wit.” She opened a sack of oranges and threw me one. “Okay, Sam, I guess I’m ready.”
For a few minutes she concentrated on peeling her orange, her face strangely solemn. “Utah, I’ve read the Book of Mormon.”
“What do you think about it?”
For a long time, she just looked out over the lake. And then in a quiet voice she began, “Humor them along, I said. Take the lessons; go to church. It’s all just part of the tour after all. And then walk away laughing.
“I grew up in Cambridge, Sam. Our next door neighbor wrote a best seller on economics. My mother played bridge with the wife of a man who became one of Kennedy’s advisers. We had as a weekend guest a man who later received a Nobel Prize. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I’ve been exposed to the finest intellectual environment. Then you come to me with your 2 1/2 minute talks. Why not three minutes for crying out loud? I thought I’d spend my life laughing at the world. There was so much to ridicule, so many balloons to pop. It would take a lifetime.”
“Don’t give me a dissertation, Charly. What about the Book of Mormon?”
“It’s true,” she answered simply. “I believe every word. The plates, the angels—all of it. Now I’m afraid of what that implies.”
“Why?”
“When fall comes and I go back to school, and my friends come up giving the cynical smile and asking, ‘Well, did the Mormons get you?’ what do I say?”
“Tell them.”
“They’ll think I’m a fool.”
“What are you interested in, truth or pretense?”
“You ask me that? That’s the same question I’ve been using as a weapon against the world.”
It was too late to be fishing, and the wind was starting to come up. I pulled in the anchor and started rowing for shore.
A week later she was baptized. She was beautiful in white. Her parents didn’t come to the baptism.
“Are you going to ask me to marry you, Sam?” she asked while putting suntan lotion on my shoulders as we soaked in the sun one Saturday at the country club pool.
“You’re not supposed to ask that.”
“Male chauvinist. Why can’t I ask it? Are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t be so insistent, Sam. You’ve got to give me time. I’ll have to think it over and let you know. So don’t rush me, okay?”
I ignored her and lay back down on the warm sun deck.
“Sam, are you awake? You’re going to get a sunburn.”
“I’m awake,” I answered sluggishly.
“Sam, I’ve thought it over. I accept. You’re a lucky man.”
I sat up and put a towel on my sore shoulders.
She leaned over like she was going to kiss me, but instead slapped me on my sunburn. “Race you to the diving board!”
She beat me there. We took turns diving. She was very good. While we were waiting our turn, she punched me on the chin in slow motion. “Sam, you son of a gun, asking me to marry you when we’ve only known each other part of a summer. You’ve got some nerve, Utah.”
She stood on the board and did a perfect swan dive. I just dived off.
“Why the joke about marriage?” I asked.
“Who said I’m joking?”
She stood up at the board again. She addressed the line of swimmers waiting to dive. “For this next dive, I must have silence so that I may concentrate,” she announced dramatically with a slightly European accent. “This dive is one that my family has passed down from generation to generation. If you will be quiet, then I will do it for you today.”
A hush fell over the swimmers. She surveyed the pool. A waiter carrying food to a lounging couple stopped to wait. “So, I will do it.” She slowly approached the middle of the board, stopped, put her arms out, seeming to be reaching for psychological strength. Then, summoning courage, she raced to the edge of the board, jumped in the air, tucked in her knees, and did a cannonball.
Two or three times a week we went back to the Ferris wheel.
Near the end of August we were walking around a shopping center on a Saturday afternoon. We were in a large discount department store. We passed the maternity clothes.
“How many children do you want, Sam?”
“At least six.”
“So many? How come? Religious reasons?”
“That’s right.”
“Six kids. That’s a bunch.”
“They come one at a time. That way you can make all your mistakes on the first one.”
“Careful, fella, I was the first one,” she warned.
A while later we walked by the toy department and a row of dolls. She picked up six, but one fell down. “I can’t get six, Sam.” She put all but one of the dolls back. “I’ll be a good mother, Sam. When I was little I had a doll and she was no problem at all. I just said, ‘Go to bed and sleep,’ and she did. So six will be nothing.”
“You know, Charly, I’ve never really asked you to marry me.”
“I noticed that. Yes, sir, I have noticed that.”
We got what she needed, but on the way out I remembered I needed to get a coupling for our water hose. Since she was not really interested, we agreed to separate and then meet later. She suggested the jewelry counter.
I found the hardware section, found the coupling, and went back to the jewelry counter. She wasn’t there. I waited for five minutes and then started walking around to see if I could find her.
After 15 minutes of looking, I heard a strangely familiar voice over the P.A. system. “Sam, Sammy, you hear me? This is Mommy. The nice men let me talk to you on the big radio. Sammy wherever you are in this big store, stop and listen to Mommy.”
I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me.
“Sammy, if you can hear me, listen carefully. Remember when Mommy bought you a big bag of popcorn last week. Sam, go to the popcorn machine, and Mommy will be there. Do you understand? The popcorn place. Mommy will get you a big bag of popcorn. Mommy loves you, Sam.”
A man standing next to me grabbed a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Poor little guy,” he muttered to himself.
I walked over to the popcorn machine. There was Charly with a bag of popcorn in her hand.
I grabbed her arm and quickly escorted her out of the store.
“Sam, do you want some popcorn?” she asked. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”
“Get in the car.”
“I was a bad girl.”
“Why don’t you grow up, Charly? You think the world was made for your amusement?”
“Don’t preach to me, Sam. I’m sorry. Okay?”
I should have waited until I got control before I said anything, but I didn’t.
She didn’t defend herself but just sat there, holding that ridiculous bag of popcorn in her lap.
Then I said the thing that I shouldn’t have. “You’ve been talking about marriage. Well, I’m not ready for marriage and especially not to someone who hasn’t grown up yet.” I drove her home, and she opened the door by herself and ran up the walk alone to the door.
I sat and watched her go.
I suppose I figured I’d let her stew for a couple of days and then call her up and tell her she was forgiven. But on Monday when I called, her mother said that she’d decided to go back to Massachusetts early for school. She’d left that morning. Her mother told me that Charly didn’t want me to know where she was going, didn’t want me to write or call, and didn’t want to see me again.
After a week of long distance phone calls I was finally able to get her address. When I phoned, she hung up. I wrote to her several times. But she never answered. One day I got a large envelope with all my letters inside. None of them had been opened.
Then I quit my job and went back to school.
I tried to get in touch with her during Christmas vacation, but her parents went back to see her so she wasn’t in town.
In June I was back in town. My dad got me a job on the first floor of the same building, in line with additional schooling, I guess.
One day at work I got a phone call from my dad who now was on the ninth floor. “She’s back in town with a boy named Mark. I thought you might want to know.”
That night I drove by her house. There was a small sports car with Massachusetts license plates parked in the driveway. I drove around her block about 20 times trying to formulate a plan. Nothing came to mind, so I finally just parked and walked up to the door.
They were in the backyard. The door was open and I went in. I could see Charly through the kitchen window, standing next to a Harvard type gesturing with a pipe in one hand.
“I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to change.” Charly left him, walked into the kitchen, and into the hall.
She saw me and stopped. “Sam?”
“Hi, Charly.”
“Are you real? For a minute there I thought you were the ghost of boyfriends past.”
“My dad told me you were back. They say it’s serious when she brings the guy home to meet the parents. Are you engaged?”
“I could be.”
“Do you love him?”
“You’re not supposed to ask that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Would you like to meet Mark? He’s discovered a lot of investment opportunities right here in Utah. Maybe you two could work out a partnership.”
“No, I’d better go.” I started for the door.
Charly walked out with me. “Whatever happened to all those tickets we got for the Ferris wheel?”
“I still have them.”
“I thought you’d use them for your other dates.”
“No one else would understand.”
“Oh.”
We walked out to the jeep. “Did you ever get this thing out of four-wheel drive?” Charly asked.
“Sort of. Now I can’t get it into four-wheel drive.” We both smiled faintly.
“Why didn’t you answer my letters?” I asked.
“I guess I felt like I’d made a fool of myself and didn’t want to be reminded.”
I walked over to the right-hand side of the jeep, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out several faded, bent tickets.
“There are still a few left,” I said, walking back to her.
“I wonder if they’re still good,” she said. Then, so I wouldn’t misunderstand, she quickly added, “I mean, you should find someone else to use them with.”
“It wouldn’t be the same. I’ll just get rid of them,” I said, ripping one of them up, letting the pieces flutter to the ground.
“Don’t,” she said, grabbing the others.
Our eyes met.
“Charly, couldn’t we go somewhere and talk? Just to make sure things are the way we want them.”
“I can’t. It’s too late.”
“Maybe there’s nothing left between us, Charly. I don’t know. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if. If there’s nothing left, give me the piece of mind of knowing that.”
“What do I tell Mark?”
“Just leave a note saying you’re going for a ride, and you’ll explain when you get back.”
She went in the house and in a minute was back again.
We drove to the park, gave Mr. Raferty the rest of the tickets, and got in the Ferris wheel car.
“I was listening to Mark while I wrote the note. I think he just sold my dad an apartment building in Newton.”
“Then the trip out here won’t be a complete waste,” I said.
“Mark will someday be governor of Massachusetts. I’m sure of it.”
“He has a Word of Wisdom problem.”
“You’re always classifying people, aren’t you? Do all Mormons do that?”
“You’re a Mormon, remember?”
“You won’t believe this, but I have been going to Church. And I have asked Mark about taking the lessons. He thought that was very funny.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“I don’t know. I have a high regard for him.”
“That sounds pretty weak to me. You could say that about your milkman.”
“Don’t push me, Sam.”
“I’m just asking you to wait before you do anything dumb like getting engaged to him.”
“Why?”
“Well, for starters, he can’t take you to the temple. A marriage with him would have a built-in divorce clause. And I can’t forget you. Maybe at first you loved me more than I loved you. But I’ve had a year to catch up. Give me a chance.”
She started going through her old leather bag. “You never can find anything when you need it. I put Kleenex in here, and it’s there for months, but the minute I want it, it’s gone.”
“I have a clean handkerchief,” I volunteered.
She took it, and wiped her eyes. “My mother ordered a cake for a garden party we are going to have tomorrow for Mark. She knows I haven’t said yes to Mark yet, but the cake looks a lot like a wedding cake. She’s trying to talk me into making an announcement at the party. You know, she isn’t really that fond of you. What do we do about that?”
“Cake will freeze for months. Put it in the freezer until you decide.”
“What about Mark?”
“I don’t think you should freeze him. It’s up to you, though.”
Just then we noticed somebody arguing with Mr. Raferty. Charly scrunched down in her seat, but Mark had already seen her.
“I want this thing stopped! He’s kidnapped her!”
“I’m not stopping anything until their ride’s up. They’ve got ten more rides coming, and that’s what they’re going to get.”
Mark stormed away, walked to a pay phone, and made two phone calls.
“Charly, what did your note say?”
“I think it was, ‘Am being taken for a ride. Will explain later.’ Is that bad?”
“Not usually. But Mark thinks you’ve been kidnapped. He probably found the torn up Ferris wheel ticket and came here first.”
Mark stormed back to the Ferris wheel and began arguing with Mr. Raferty.
On our way down, Charly started to explain. But Mark lunged for me, missed, didn’t get away soon enough, and was struck on the shoulder by part of the frame. The blow threw him against Mr. Raferty. Raferty and Mark fell down and in the process broke off the speed control lever.
We started going very fast. I put my arms around Charly and held her close to me.
Raferty was knocked unconscious. Mark got up, looked around, grabbed a long pole, and crammed the pole into the gear mechanism. The pole jerked out of his hand, throwing him against the ground. Suddenly the pulley for the drive mechanism snapped, and the Ferris wheel slowed down and stopped.
A few minutes later the police arrived, apparently called by Mark from a pay phone earlier. A police ambulance took away Mark and Mr. Raferty, unconscious.
Then Charly’s mother and dad arrived.
Charly stood up to yell that everything was okay, but the motion caused one of the other cars to break loose and fall to the ground.
That was when the police told us not to move around and to be quiet.
“Roberts, I want you to throw down the weapon you used against the Ferris wheel operator and this girl’s boyfriend. I don’t want you harming the girl.”
“No, I don’t ever want to do that,” I said to Charly.
“Roberts, you’ve already got a charge of kidnapping against you. Don’t make it worse. Throw down the weapon.”
“Sam, you’re not cooperating.”
“I don’t have a weapon.”
“Let’s see if I can help.” She opened her bag, and we sifted through the stuff she carried in it. Finally we found a pair of scissors, which we tossed down. It seemed to please everybody.
In a few minutes a fire truck with a ladder pulled close to the Ferris wheel. “Miss, just reach slowly and grab hold. I’ll have you down in no time,” the fireman on the extended ladder told Charly.
“If I jumped, I’d be down in no time. Let’s go very slowly. See you, Sam.”
In a minute I was back down on the ground also. After Charly talked to the police and after we called the hospital and had Mr. Raferty and Mark explain things, they undid the handcuffs.
On our way to the hospital, Charly explained to her parents that she probably would get engaged, but not at the party the next day, and maybe not to Mark.
“But what about the cake?” her mother asked.
“Freeze it,” Charly and I answered.
That’s just what we did.

“Would you accept Moses as a prophet of God if he lived today?” I asked.
“Why, yes,” answered my friend, “without any doubt!”
“What if he wore modern clothing and drove a car? What if he were a husband, a father, and a devoted citizen of the country in which he lived?”
“Moses would never have been like other men,” my friend replied. “He was Moses, the prophet—the man who communed with God!”
It did not occur to my friend that Moses had been much like the other men of his time. For my friend, it was inconceivable that a man who lived in modern times could be a mouthpiece for God—and could act and speak in his name.
“I met a prophet once,” I told my friend. “He was a highly respected businessman, a wonderful husband and father, a devoted citizen. Even though I wa a child when I met him, I knew that he was a true prophet of God.”
The place was Hamburg, Germany—the year, 1937. President Heber J. Grant was touring the European missions. The branch of the Church to which my family belonged met in a rented hall in a soap factory, squeezed into a back alley of a thickly populated industrial district. Here people from all the northern and western districts of Germany had assembled to see and hear the prophet speak.
A gifted poet in our branch had written a long poem for the occasion, and I had been chosen to greet President Grant and recite it. The night before the prophet’s visit, my mother came to my room to say good night. “Tomorrow you will shake hands with a prophet of God,” she said. “What a great privilege that is! I am sure it is because of your faith that you have been asked.”
I was glad it was dark in my room so my mother could not notice my despair. The minute she left my bedside, I prayed, begging my Heavenly Father to forgive my sins and help me be worthy to meet the prophet. My mother spent half the night at the sewing machine, finishing a lovely new dress for me to wear. Normally, this would have excited me tremendously, but not now. I felt that the prophet would be able to see into my heart, and that he would know of my sins and of how vain I was.
The next day in school seemed like a nightmare. Every time I looked at the big clock on the wall, I panicked about how little time I had left to repent of all my misdeeds! I was very withdrawn, and my school friends thought I was ill. I preferred to let them think that way instead of letting them know my secret.
Finally the hour arrived. After President Grant was welcomed, I was to hand him a large bouquet of long-stemmed roses and then recite the poem with the aid of an interpreter.
The floor beneath me shook as I walked toward President Grant. With each breath, I had been praying. Now there was nothing I could do but go ahead.
When President Grant saw me, he rose from his chair. He seemed as tall as a mountain. His friendly eyes looked deeply into mine as he stretched forth his arms and pulled me toward him. My entire body went numb, and the bouquet dropped to the floor. President Grant bent down to retrieve the roses for me. Then he hugged me and stroked my head, waiting patiently until I was ready to begin.
Suddenly all my fear vanished, and I felt an indescribable happiness. I had always pictured my Father in Heaven as loving, kind, and sensitive, and it was natural that his prophet would have all those qualities that were so dear to me. From then on, I knew that I would always be able to recognize a true prophet—by the love and concern he shows for our Heavenly Father’s children.