Gospel Story Finder

I think the most classical account illustrating this point is the great story of President Hugh B. Brown and the currant bush. There are several versions of this story, but let me tell it the way that I remember it from the time I translated it for President Brown in South America. He said that, when he was a young married man, he lived in a humble home, but he had a garden in front of the home that he was very proud of. This garden had a lawn and flowers; it had some shrubs and fruit bushes, and it had some trees, large trees for shade. One day he noticed the currant bush, which he had pruned to a certain shape in order to keep the majority of the strength of the tree in the roots and to produce good fruit, had lost its shape. Apparently several months had gone by without due attention to it, and it was sprouting irregular branches. He got the pruning shears and proceeded to cut back the branches of that currant bush. As he cut them, he seemed to hear the bush say to him, “Oh, don’t do that, don’t do that to me! Don’t cut me back. I want to be tall and big like the shade trees. Let me grow!”

And he said, “No, my little bush, I’m the gardener here, and I want to prune you back to the size that I have decided is right for you.”

A number of years later President Brown was a colonel in the British Forces in World War I in France. He was the ranking colonel of the Canadian forces. He had decided to make the military career his life’s profession. He had studied hard; he had worked hard. He had had great success; he had been promoted and advanced. He was now colonel, and the next position would be general. In fact, he dreamed of being perhaps the first Mormon general since Book of Mormon days. A sudden vacancy occurred, and it was his turn to be promoted. He knew it, and yet they called him in and advised him that someone else was being promoted over his head. He wondered if it was because they had never had a Mormon general and probably were now deciding that they would not have a Mormon in that position of rank and authority. He returned to his tent, knelt by his cot, and cried to the Lord, “Why couldn’t my prayers have been answered? I’ve been faithful to my covenants. I’ve been active in the Church. I’ve done all the things I should do to merit this promotion. It’s been my ambition. There’s no reason why I should have been denied this. Why couldst Thou not have answered my prayers?”

And then he seemed to hear a voice saying, “I’m the gardener here, and I’m going to prune you to the size that I want you to be in my garden.”

Do we have the trust in the Lord that we can see His purposes fulfilled even in disappointment and in discouragement? Not to say anything against the military profession, of course, which is noble and honorable and much needed, but had President Brown followed that particular career, I doubt that he would have developed those characteristics, qualities, attributes, and skills which made him one of our greatest apostles, one of our greatest counselors in the First Presidency, one of the most eloquent orators that we ever have had in the Church.

Martha bested her husband, Angus Cannon, in a race for the Utah State Senate in 1896, and it was the talk of Salt Lake City.
But according to published reports, it didn’t upset her relationship with Angus. “As Mr. and Mrs. Cannon are not at all worried over the latter’s election to the state senate,” observed an article in the Salt Lake Herald, “it is needless for anyone else to be apprehensive over the effect of that fact upon their domestic affairs.” The article went on to state, “Nothing that has transpired in Utah shows greater advancement in civilization than the election of women to the legislature.”
Martha ran as the Democratic candidate and won by “a neat little majority of 4,000 votes.” She became America’s first female state senator on November 3, 1896, and served one four-year term.
In an interview that appeared in the Salt Lake Herald, Martha declared: “I do seem to be a sort of milestone, don’t I? Well, I will have to try to live up to my privileges.” Her humility and hard work helped set a high standard and buoy other women, stretching to our day.

“Aw, Mom, do I have to?” Freddie stood scowling by the back door, hands on hips and holding his baseball glove. “I promised Brad we’d play ball this morning, and he’s waiting for me.”
Mom stood in the kitchen with a bucket of paint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. She was wearing one of Dad’s old shirts and a bandanna over her hair. “I really could use your help, Freddie. I’d like to surprise Dad and get the hallway painted before he gets home this afternoon.”
Tossing his glove disgustedly on the table, Freddie grumbled, “Oh, all right, I’ll help. But let me call Brad first and tell him I’m going to be late.”
After the phone call, Freddie dragged himself back to the hall, where Mom had already covered the floor with a drop cloth. Fingering a hole in his shirt, he glumly watched her pry open a can of paint.
Mom glanced up at Freddie as she poured some into the paint tray. “Which would you rather work with, the brush or the roller?”
“The roller, I guess. Maybe that’ll go faster.” Freddie took a good look at the wall. It was a mess, covered with dark marks and smudges. With a sigh, he dipped the roller into the paint tray. Holding the roller firmly in his right hand, he made a large sweep with it across the dirty wall. A swath of bright, clean color adhered to the wall with a soft, sticky sound.
Freddie worked his way up and down the wall. Mom preceded him, using the brush to do the trim work along the molding and ceiling and in the corners. One especially dark smudge on the wall caught Freddie’s attention. “This is a really bad mark, Mom,” said Freddie. “How did it get on the wall?”
Mom squinted, trying to remember. “I think you made that one. Remember how angry you and Brad got at each other last month?”
“I sure do. I called him a poor sport at the ball game, and he called me a baby. I came home so mad that I wanted to kick him.” Freddie frowned. “I kicked the wall, instead. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, and I felt bad about what I’d done.”
“And as I recall,” Mom added, “Brad came over later, and you two made up.”
“Well, we both said we were sorry. Besides, we couldn’t stay mad forever. That’s why Brad and I are best friends.” With one quick stroke, Freddie’s roller covered the ugly mark with wet paint.
“There’s a bad one you’ll have to do with the brush, Mom,” said Freddie, pointing to a long smudge near the floor.
Mom raised her eyebrows. “I’m the one who made that. It was the time I had a really bad day at work. I came home so upset that I got careless and banged the wall with the vacuum cleaner while I was cleaning.”
“You were still upset after dinner, so Dad and I gave you a sandwich hug that night. Dad and I were the slices of bread and you were the peanut butter in the middle, remember?”
Mom nodded, and her eyes sparkled. “I sure do! It was the best thing that happened to me all that day.” With a few brush strokes, Mom covered the ugly mark.
The smell of new paint filled the hallway. Much to Freddie’s surprise, he had come to the end of the long hall. Standing on tiptoes, he made the final stroke of the roller with a flourish. He and Mom looked proudly at their work. The once dingy wall was now gleaming with clean, fresh paint.
“We do good work, Mom. It almost doesn’t seem fair that the wall will get dirty again.”
“Yes, it does seem a shame,” said Mom. “But at least you’ll never kick the wall again, and I’ll be more careful when I clean. And if we need to, we can always paint the wall again.”
Freddie looked at it thoughtfully. “That reminds me of last week’s lesson at Primary—we can repent when we make mistakes and forgive each other too. Right, Mom?”
Mom ruffled Freddie’s brown hair and hugged him hard. “Right, honey, especially with sandwich hugs. Now I’ll clean up, and if you hurry, you still have time for a ball game with Brad before lunch.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Freddie headed out the back door with his baseball glove. There was a big spot of paint on Freddie’s neck, but there was an even bigger smile on his face.

Thank you for the article “No Laughing Matter” (June 1994). I have had a very similar incident happen to me at school when a girl from my gym class saw me reading the Book of Mormon before school. She told a number of her friends and they all bowed to me in class and taunted me. It made me ashamed until, just like the girl in the story, I realized that it didn’t really matter as long as I was doing what was right. Thanks for the reassurance.
Debbie WilliamsSalem, Oregon

Late in the afternoon of the second day at sea, the dreaded alarm “Man overboard” sounded. It became more ominous when the words “This is no drill” were added. The ship’s lookout believed he heard a splash and a cry for help. One adult leader recalls, “I was sitting in the officers’ wardroom, convincing myself I was going to become gloriously sick. But when the alarm sounded, I was no longer aware of anything except the fact that I had two sons out on deck somewhere.”
Fortunately, after a person-by-person muster was verified three times during search-at-sea procedures, there was a collective sigh of relief aboard when the ship’s captain announced all hands were present. The worried adult laughingly remembers, “That’s when it dawned on me that I was no longer seasick. I told the pediatrician who was with us that I thought I had discovered a sure cure for mal de mer—adrenalin!”

The Portuguese, he says, are very humble, and many will listen open-mindedly to the missionaries. His countrymen are also “very giving, and eager to help others.” That makes many of them strong in Church service. President Martins lists a number of examples in his own stake, including Antonio and Mae Leme.
The Lemes were also among the LDS pioneers in Portugal. Natives of Brazil, they moved to Europe in 1965 when Antonio, a pilot, was hired by the Portuguese national airline. Mae Leme was trying to help her son obtain his Eagle Scout rank when she met Geraldine Bangerter, who was providing help to a group of Scouts. Mae soon learned that Sister Bangerter was the wife of Wm. Grant Bangerter, mission president in Portugal for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (Elder Bangerter was called to the First Quorum of the Seventy in April of 1975 while serving as mission president.)
Mae expressed a polite interest in learning more about the Church, and Sister Bangerter sent the missionaries immediately. The Lemes investigated carefully for seven months. The Church in Portugal was still only a handful of members meeting in a Lisbon hotel room when they joined.
Antonio Leme is now bishop of the Oeiras Ward, created in a Lisbon suburb early this year. “I really believe if you are called to do something, God gives you the means to do it,” he reflects. After reaching the mandatory age for retirement from flying, he was so busy in Church callings that he felt as though he had not retired at all. But, he adds, it is a privilege to serve. “I never get tired of giving my time to the Church.”

Elder Clate Wheeler Mask Jr. knows that nothing happens by chance.
As a young boy in El Paso, Texas, Elder Mask was affected by the service of his father, Clate Wheeler Mask Sr., in World War II. It was a trying time.
That’s when his mother, Marva Gonzalez Mask, taught him to really pray. His father was not a member of the Church. “Our family prayed my dad would join the Church and come home safely,” he says. “As a little boy praying at my mother’s side, I just knew God was there.”
With his father away, Elder Mask spent many hours with his maternal grandparents. “I would sit at my grandmother’s knee as she told Book of Mormon stories. My grandfather would tell about his mission to Mexico,” Elder Mask recalls. “That set the course of my life.”
His father did join the Church and return safely. From that time, Elder Mask’s testimony was firm.
He eventually served a mission to Central America, and just before coming home he was assigned to write a report on some missionaries he had worked with. “One sister was just tremendous in every way, and I realized she was the kind of person I wanted to marry someday,” Elder Mask says.
Following military service, Elder Mask attended Brigham Young University, and there he became reacquainted with that same sister missionary, Paula Carol Garns. They married in 1965 in the Los Angeles California Temple and reared six children.
Elder Mask graduated with a bachelor’s degree in English and Spanish and has had a 30-year career with the Church Educational System. He has served as a mission president, bishop, bishop’s counselor, stake Sunday School president, high councilor, and branch president.
Elder Mask, age 60, was born on 20 August 1942. He knows his new calling as a member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy will be as life changing as the other not-by-chance events of his life. “Everything that has happened to him has prepared him for this calling,” says Sister Mask.

“Ashley, would you please read Helaman 5:6–7?” [Hel. 5:6–7] Sister Robins asked. Ashley quickly opened her Book of Mormon, found the passage, and read: “‘Behold, my sons, … I have given unto you the names of our first parents who came out of the land of Jerusalem; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when ye remember them ye may remember their works; and when ye remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good.
“‘Therefore, my sons, I would that ye should do that which is good, that it may be said of you, and also written, even as it has been said and written of them.’”
“Thank you, Ashley,” Sister Robins said. “In this scripture, this prophet Nephi—he lived just a few years before Christ was born—is telling his sons, Nephi and Lehi, why he gave them their names. Can anyone tell me why?”
“Because Nephi wanted his children to remember what good things the first Nephi and Lehi had done,” Emily answered.
Ashley thought about the things she had read in 1 Nephi: Lehi listened to the Lord and left Jerusalem. Nephi obeyed his father and returned for the brass plates, and he built a ship, and preached to his brothers, and—
“And then they would do good things, too, and be righteous, too,” Samuel’s comment broke into her thoughts.
“That’s right,” Sister Robins said. “Names can sometimes help us choose the right. My first name is Camilla. My parents named me after the wife of one of our prophets, President Spencer W. Kimball. She was a wonderful woman who spent her entire life serving other people and building up the kingdom of God. I always remember her because of my name. It makes me want to obey the Lord and serve other people as she did. Are any of you named for a special person?”
“I was named for Daniel in the lions’ den,” Danny said.
“I was named for my great-great-grandmother who crossed the plains,” said Emily.
Ashley shut her Book of Mormon and sat back in her chair. What about my name? Where does it come from? It isn’t in the Bible or the Book of Mormon. She couldn’t think of anyone in her family with her name.
She asked about it on the way home from church. “Mom, why did you and Dad name me Ashley?”
“We just thought it was a beautiful name, and you were such a beautiful baby girl that the name fit.”
“My name’s not in the scriptures, is it?”
“No, it isn’t, dear.”
“Is there anyone in our family, like a great-great-grandmother, whose name was Ashley?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s just a pretty name,” Mom answered.
Dad asked, “Don’t you like your name, honey?”
Ashley mumbled an “Oh, yes. It is pretty.” But she thought, Pretty is not enough—there’s nothing special about it to remind me to be good. She thought about her sister’s and brother’s names. Rachel’s name is in the Bible. And Brian’s named after Dad. Her eyes filled with tears. Why was I left out?
That night as she was lying in bed, Ashley thought about it again. It isn’t fair! I want a name that means something special. I know—I’ll change my name! She grabbed her writing tablet and a pencil. She said them aloud as she listed possibilities: “Elizabeth, Mary, Rebecca, Sarah. And Grandma’s name is Emma Jane.”
A knock came at the open door, and Mom asked to come in. She glanced at the tablet in her daughter’s lap. “What’s this, Ashley? Are you really upset about your name? Why, honey?”
“In Primary, we read about the Nephi and Lehi who were named after the first Nephi and Lehi, who were great prophets. Danny was named for a famous prophet too. Emily was named for her great-great-grandmother, who was a pioneer. Rachel was named for the woman Jacob worked seven years to get to marry. And Brian was named after Dad. Why didn’t I get a good name?”
Mom reached over and smoothed Ashley’s ruffled bangs. “You did get a good name. Don’t you know that?” She paused and looked at Ashley’s list. “Were you thinking of changing your name to one of these?”
“Yes. They were all great women.”
“Well, what do you think made them great?” Ashley thought for a minute.
“They were great because they were righteous people and served others.”
“Do you think their names made them great—or did they make their names great? Look at King Noah in the Book of Mormon. Although he had the same name as one of the greatest Old Testament prophets, he was a very wicked man. The people we admire made their names great by the kind of people they were.”
Mom pointed at the list. “These names were all probably held by other people before the ones who made them notable. And in Helaman, after Nephi told his sons that he gave them their names so that they would remember the first Lehi and Nephi and the good that they did, what did he say next?”
“He said that he wanted his sons to do good, too, so that when other people talked about them, it would be about the good they—his sons—did.”
Mom smiled. “Well, what do you want people to think when they hear your name?”
“I want them to think that I’m a nice person and that I try to do what’s right.”
“I want them to think that too. It’s nice sometimes when we are named for great people, but it’s more important that we make the name we have great. Just think—you have a brand new name to make great!”
“And maybe when people hear my name, they’ll remember that I’m a good person.”
“One more thing, Ashley. All of us who have been baptized have a special name. We say that we take this name upon us, which means that we choose to be named after and try to be like this person. Do you know what name I’m talking about?”
“Yes—it’s Jesus Christ.”
“So, if you want a name that will remind you to be good, just remember his name. Will that help?”
“Yes—I feel much better. Thanks, Mom.”
As her mom leaned over to turn off the lamp, Ashley crumpled the list of names and dropped it into the wastebasket.

When Jim was a little boy, he loved to ride his horse. He had a pair of spurs that made him feel like a real cowboy. One day when he came in from riding, he was disobedient and his mother sent him to his room in the basement. He was so angry that he threw his spurs down the stairs. Later he repented and told his mother that he was sorry. The next time he wanted to ride his horse, he couldn’t find the spurs. He looked everywhere. Finally he knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father to help him find them. When he finished praying, he started looking again—and found them. This was the beginning of Jim’s testimony that Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. Now he is a stake president. He teaches the children in his stake that praying every night and morning will bring them great blessings all the rest of their lives.

We had the rare privilege of serving our mission in New England, which included the birthplace of the Prophet Joseph Smith tucked away in the hills of Vermont. It was, and still is, a sacred place to our family. A granite shaft 38 & 1/2 feet had been raised on a hill to remember each year of the prophet's life. Often missionaries met with us there. Can you imagine a testimony meeting of missionaries who regularly witnessed Joseph Smith's seeing the Father and the Son to the people of New England, sharing with each other that witness in the very spot where the Prophet was born?
I remember distinctly walking silently with about 150 missionaries to a shady glen only a few feet from where he was born. A witness of his goodness, his sacred calling, his reality, came down on me that day with a power that I can never forget.
Perhaps one of the most eloquent testimonies I heard during those years was our eight-year-old daughter, Emily, who took the opportunity to walk to the monument alone each time we visited the place. I remember her saying, one late afternoon as we were about to pull ourselves away, "I wish I could hug the monument!" And then, "I love you, Joseph Smith!"
Emily, now 49, and seven children later, recently wrote: "As a child, newly baptized, I remember how I loved being at the Prophet's birthplace in Vermont. When my father spoke of his beloved 'Joseph' I had a sense of the Prophet so vivid that it was as if he were there. I loved him and I knew he was a prophet. That testimony burned in me then and is undeniable now. It floods over me again whenever I go to South Royalton.

Many first-generation members of the Church—like my parents, and perhaps your parents (or even you)—came to know the gospel after discovering the truths of the Restoration. They embraced these truths with enthusiasm because they filled some essential things that were missing in their spiritual understanding and their way to live the teachings of Jesus Christ.

The story of the conversion of Valérie’s mother is especially meaningful in our family.

Francine was a young mother of three children, living in Nancy, France, when two missionaries knocked on her door in 1967. At that time, Francine was in the middle of a sincere and searching spiritual journey. She had many questions about life, but she had not been able to find clear or satisfying answers.

During that first visit, she felt something she could not fully explain. The Spirit filled the room. Before leaving, the missionaries invited her to read the Book of Mormon. They showed her a page inserted in the book that listed some of life’s most important questions, along with passages from the Book of Mormon that provided inspired answers—questions like: What is the purpose of life? And how can I know what is true?

The elders promised that if she read the Book of Mormon with a sincere heart, with “real intent,” [3] and with faith in Jesus Christ, she could find the answers she was seeking.

Francine began to read—and she could not put the book down. She read day and night, finishing the Book of Mormon in less than a week. For her, it was a moment of pure revelation. She knew it was true. She had found what she had been seeking, and from that moment, she had only one desire: to be baptized.

Francine passed away four years ago. But throughout her life, she and her husband remained faithful and devoted, bearing powerful witnesses of the life-changing truths found in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

Stephanie Christensen sits on the floor of the state historical library. She has several big file drawers pulled out in front of her, and she’s sorting through photographs.
“Here’s one. I know her,” she says, her excitement making her voice a little too loud for the library. But the few people who are there don’t mind.
“We worked with this family,” she says. She pulls the photo out of the drawer and studies the faces. The women are dressed in stiff dresses with big skirts with their hair tightly pinned. The men, unsmiling, look straight ahead, and the children, with baggy long stockings and high buttoned shoes, hold old-fashioned toys. They have been dead for more than a hundred years, but Stephanie can tell you about their lives. She can point out the houses they lived in and tell you who they are related to. She knows where they went to school, whether they talked with the accent of an immigrant, and can name what illness or accident killed them.
But at this moment, Stephanie is looking at their faces, looking for some hint of what they might be like, what they might think or feel. She and the other Young Women of the Meridian 15th Ward, Meridian Idaho East Stake, have just gone to the temple and been baptized for people whose names they had extracted from the local records of a ghost town cemetery. It was an exciting project that took the Young Women nearly a year to complete.
It all started innocently enough. The Christensen family had taken a picnic lunch and had driven about an hour out of the Boise area to visit Silver City, a ghost town. They collected crystals in the tailings left over from the mines. They toured the old hotel. They walked down the dusty streets. And they climbed the small hill to the town cemetery. Reading the gravestones, Stephanie found the name Katie Blackinger, who died at 16, the same age Stephanie was then. “I thought it was sad that she died so young. I wondered what she was like,” said Stephanie.
The Christensens know something about family history, since they’ve worked on their own genealogy for years. Walking through Silver City got the whole family wondering about the people who had lived in that town. Many were solitary miners who never had children. Others had lost all their children to illness. It made them wonder if any had descendants to do their temple work.
Carma Christensen was the Young Women president in her ward. She was looking for meaningful activities for her Young Women. Several of the girls in her ward were involved in their own genealogy, helping their parents assemble their records. Carma felt that the girls might like to spend their midweek activity time doing the genealogical research for the people of Silver City. With the project approved by the bishop and the stake president, she checked with their stake family history center and found virtually none of the names had any ordinance work done for them.
That’s when the work started. The Young Women were lucky in one sense. Someone had already collected all the obituaries from the newspaper that had been printed in Silver City before it became a ghost town. Those records often gave birth and death dates, plus parents’ and children’s names. The girls learned how to read the 1880 census and check other local histories for more information.
Each girl was given several names to research. Young Women leaders were worried at first that the girls would find the research too tedious. They didn’t need to worry. Cori Christensen, 15, said, “People would be jumping up and down yelling, ‘I found them. I found them.’ You would be so excited when you found the person you were looking for.” The girls spent hours poring over documents.
Sister Christensen created a worksheet for the girls to fill out on each person. Volunteers typed the names and information into a genealogical program on the computer. Then the stake family history consultant helped them clear the names for temple work. It took hours and hours, but a feeling of accomplishment piled up with each name.
There were moments of discouragement, like when they suspected certain parents went with certain children, but they had no proof. It made the girls resolve to complete their own family history and write down everything about their own families.
After researching more than 400 names, both male and female, the Young Women of the Meridian 15th Ward invited the Young Men to go with them to the Boise Temple to do baptisms. The temple arranged for the names to be kept in a file for their ward. Heather Bennett, 15, said, “The best part was being baptized for them. The names sounded familiar to me. That was the neatest thing about the whole project. We did work for people that otherwise wouldn’t have been done. They might have been forgotten.”
“While we were sitting in the baptistry in the temple,” said Cori, “we had this totally good feeling. It was a feeling of victory. We’d given them a chance.”
The girls also felt sorry for the hard times many of the people experienced. “There were so many who died because they got sick,” said Janae Jensen, 16. “It makes you grateful for modern medicine.”
Now that the baptisms have been completed, the names are being kept in a special file at the temple for ward members to draw from to do endowments and sealings.
As a conclusion to the project, the Young Women made a special trip to Silver City, a type of farewell party for those resting in the cemetery. Now the history of the town meant something to them. They felt the people who had lived there were friends, friends who might thank them for what they have done.

Readers
Anger is an emotion everyone is subject to at one time or another. The difference is that some people learn to control their anger while others don’t. If you lose your temper, then you’re not in control. Satan is.
Something that helped me was to watch other people to see what they looked like when they lost their tempers. When I saw how foolish other people looked, I made a promise to myself to practice self-control and not lose my temper. I am learning patience.
Kurtis Hyde, 19Lovelock, Nevada
We all get mad for one thing or another. That’s normal. But blowing up at someone doesn’t solve anything. It only worsens the situation. Think before you burst. Stupid or silly acts are committed by those who don’t think. Some people try to make you mad. Disappoint them and respond nicely. You may need to count from one to ten and back again to gain composure before you say anything, but don’t give in to thoughtless action. In time, you’ll master your temper, and you’ll learn a lot about patience. “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger” (Prov. 15:1).
Tonya Stock, 20Sandy, Utah
I’ve had many problems with my temper. I used to yell at people because I thought they were such idiots. My temper had a very short fuse. The way I overcame my “short fuse” was by reading the Book of Mormon, writing my feelings down on paper, and making a conscious effort to change. After about a week, I could tell that I wasn’t getting mad at people nearly as often.
Elder John O. Leyer, 19Indianapolis, Indiana
I lose my temper easily. I was told by my mom that when I get angry I should use these statements: When you _____, I feel _____ because I have _____. For example, I might say, “When you interrupt me, I feel hurt because I have something important I’d like to tell you.” Try it; it helps.
Jennifer Snow, 12Veneta, Oregon
I understand where you’re coming from. Anger is a funny thing, and it’s a shame that we are sometimes victimized by our emotions. We each have weaknesses to overcome and grow from. Let me share with you some suggestions that helped me: (1) Delay. When you delay, you “cool it.” Count to ten, leave the scene that caused the feeling before you erupt, or take some deep breaths. (2) Identify the anger. Where is it coming from? How was it caused? And how can it be avoided? (3) Go someplace where you can be alone, get on your knees, and tell the whole thing to Heavenly Father. (4) Ask the Lord for help. Pray that he will take the anger from your heart and replace it with peace and forgiveness. He has promised in Ether 12:27 that if we are humble before him, he will “make weak things become strong.”
Elder Thomas F. Smith, 19Birmingham, Alabama
I’d like to start by saying I have the same problem, but I’ve learned to control my problem. Every once in a while I may burst out and tell the person off, but later I apologize. Honestly, I think you can learn to control it. Until then pray and think about how you are hurting the other person.
Tammy Booth, 14Geneva, Alabama
The actions you take when you are angry can be damaging to others. Instead of yelling and throwing things, you should take time out and think over the problem. Did you overreact? Was that person feeling well, or was there something wrong with them? Were you in a bad mood? Staying angry isn’t good. The best thing to do is talk it out, forgive, and forget.
Vicky M. Brugger, 14Rochester, New York
I’ve got a real bad temper, too. People used to irritate me with the littlest things. Sometimes it got so bad that I’d yell at someone just for touching me. The worst part about it was that it was usually my family. But I found that I have a vitamin deficiency that was causing me to be irritable. I also realized I needed to learn to love. The Savior loved everyone, even those who betrayed him.
Believe me, my little brother gets so irritating I want to kick him.
But I asked my Father in Heaven, not to make him be nice to me, but to help me be nice to him. And it really works. He’s not less irritating, but I’m less touchy about it.
Sheila Webb, 17Sunnyvale, California

Because of her Down syndrome, however, Lily sometimes needs to modify experiences and projects. The Personal Progress booklet says, “You may adapt experiences and projects according to your personal circumstances, interests, and needs with the prior approval of a parent, a Young Women leader, or another adult” ([2009], 7).
With the help of her parents and Young Women leaders, Lily is figuring out when and how to adapt Personal Progress to meet her needs. But whether a project is adapted or not, Lily, her parents, and her leaders make sure that every experience and project provides Lily with opportunities to grow.
Because of her disability, Lily is unable to memorize scriptures or long passages. So, with the approval of her mom, Lily has decided to listen to an audio version of the scriptures instead and then color a picture that represents what she’s supposed to memorize. Then she discusses the importance of the verse with a parent or leader and hangs the picture where she can see it and remember what she learned.

I would like to tell you about a group of loud young men who came into my life when I was a young bishop in Seoul, Korea, many years ago. These were boys who lived in the neighborhood. Only one or two of them were members of the Church at the time. The boys who were members were the only members in their family. They were all friends, and they came to the church to play and to be together. They liked to play Ping-Pong during the weekdays, and they liked to have fun activities on Saturdays. Most of them were not good students in school and were considered by many to be troublemakers.
I was a young father of two sons, who were seven and nine years old at the time. I did not know what I could do for these young men. They were so rowdy that once my wife, Bon-Kyoung, asked me if we could move to another ward so that our sons could see good examples from other young men. I pondered and prayed to Heavenly Father to help me to find the way to help these young men. Finally I made the decision to try and teach them how they could change their lives.
A vision came upon my mind very clearly. I felt that if they were to become missionaries, their lives would be changed. From that moment on, I became very excited, and I tried to spend as much time as possible with them, teaching them the importance of missionary service and how to prepare for a mission.
At that time, Elder Seo, a full-time missionary, was transferred to our ward. He was one who had grown up in the Church and as an Aaronic Priesthood youth had participated in a young men’s singing group with his friends. He met those boisterous boys in our ward. Elder Seo taught those who were not members the missionary discussions, and he also taught them the songs he used to sing. He made a triple quartet with those loud boys and named them the Hanaro Quartet, which means “be as one.” They were happy to sing together, but we all needed “big” patience when we listened to their singing.
Our home was open to the members anytime they wanted to visit. The boys visited our home almost every weekend and even on some weekdays. We fed them and taught them. We taught them the principles of the gospel as well as the application of the gospel in their lives. We tried to give them a vision of their future life.
They sang together every time they came to our home. Their loud sound hurt our ears. But we always praised them because listening to them sing was far more enjoyable than seeing them get into trouble.
Through the years these activities continued. Most of these young men matured in the gospel, and a miracle happened. Over time, nine of the boys who were not members were baptized. They changed from loud, rowdy boys into valiant stripling warriors.1
They served missions, met beautiful young sisters in the Church, and married in the temple. Of course, there were different challenges for each of them as they served missions, attended school, and got married, but they all stayed faithful because they wanted to obey their leaders and please the Lord. Now they have happy families with children born in the covenant.
Nine loud boys have become 45 active members in the Lord’s kingdom, including their wives and children. They are now leaders in their wards and stakes. One is a bishop, two serve in bishoprics, one is serving on the high council, and two are Young Men presidents. There is a ward mission leader, an executive secretary, and a seminary teacher. As a group, they still sing together, and the other miracle—they actually sound good!
Now, we have three of our own sons, including our youngest, who was born during the time I served as bishop. As our sons grew, those nine boys became the leaders of the ward and the stake, and they became the teachers and leaders of our sons. They taught our boys and other boys in the same way I taught them when they were troublemakers. They loved our young boys in the same way I loved them. These loud, rowdy boys of the past became our children’s heroes. Our sons liked to follow their great examples of becoming wonderful missionaries and getting married to righteous companions in the temple.

In just a few moments, we will listen to our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, a man of undaunted faith in Jesus Christ, a man of hope and peace, loved by God but not spared from the wounds of the soul.

In 1995 his daughter Emily, while expecting a child, was diagnosed with cancer. There were days of hope and happiness as her healthy baby was delivered. But the cancer returned, and their beloved Emily would pass from this life just two weeks after her 37th birthday, leaving her loving husband and five young children.

In general conference, shortly after her passing, President Nelson confided: “My tears of sorrow have flowed along with wishes that I could have done more for our daughter. … If I had the power of resurrection, I would have been tempted to bring [her] back. … [But] Jesus Christ holds those keys and will use them for Emily … and for all people in the Lord’s own time.”28

Last month, while visiting the Saints in Puerto Rico and remembering last year’s devastating hurricane, President Nelson spoke with love and compassion:
“[This] is part of life. It’s why we’re here. We are here to have a body and to be tried and tested. Some of those tests are physical; some are spiritual, and your trials here have been both physical and spiritual.”29
“You have not given up. We are [so] proud of you. You faithful Saints have lost much, but through it all, you have fostered your faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.”30
“By keeping God’s commandments, we can find joy even in the midst of our worst circumstances.”31

During the summer, I did odd jobs to earn money. That summer I was working as a service station attendant. A man who worked there was a member of the Church, and he invited me to attend MIA (Mutual). At first I hesitated, but he persisted, and I finally gave in. The warmth and friendliness of the members and missionaries impressed me, but again the music influenced me most. Their hymns sounded different from any I had ever heard.

When I first started reading the Book of Mormon, it seemed strange to me. The only name in the book that was familiar to me was the name of one of Nephi’s brothers—Sam! That was my name! But there was a force that drew me to the Book of Mormon. I felt that if I were to become a member of the Church, my life would become much more meaningful.

When I told my older brother that I would like to be baptized, he said, “That would be fine. But if you become a member, you must be a lifetime member. You must commit yourself and be loyal.” I was baptized when I was sixteen.

After high school, I was in the military, and I had the opportunity to have an interview with Elder Harold B. Lee, who was then an Apostle and who later became President of the Church. It was a very precious time for me. For an hour he counseled me to go on a mission, to go to the house of the Lord, and to sustain the leaders of the Church. This same advice applies to every member of the Church.

I never forgot Elder Lee’s advice. I came to Salt Lake City, Utah, on furlough and went to the Salt Lake Temple. After I left the military and went to college, I saved money for a mission. During my mission, I was able to open the Okinawa area, where my father was from, for missionary work. Later, serving as president of the Tokyo Temple, I had the wonderful blessing of seeing many of the Japanese Saints receive their temple endowments. Seeing the joy in the faces of those being sealed was a great blessing.

In our worldwide youth devotional last June, I spoke about a young man whose life changed when his parents exchanged his smartphone for a flip phone. This young man’s mother is a fearless woman of faith. She saw her son drifting toward choices that could prevent him from serving a mission. She took her pleadings to the temple to know how best to help her son. Then she followed through with every impression.
She said: “I felt the Spirit guiding me to check my son’s phone at specific times to catch specific things. I don’t know how to navigate these smartphones, but the Spirit guided me through all the social media that I don’t even use! I know the Spirit helps parents who are seeking guidance to protect their children. [At first] my son was furious with me. … But after only three days, he thanked me! He could feel the difference.”
Her son’s behavior and attitudes changed dramatically. He became more helpful at home, smiled more, and was more attentive at church. He loved serving for a time in a temple baptistry and preparing for his mission.

This story happened in Ghana.
I am a child of God, and He has sent me here …
You have a loud voice, Eric.
I think it’s a nice voice.
Thanks! I want to learn to sing better.
The next week …
I have a gift for you. It’s a hymnbook so you can learn more Church songs.
Wow! Thank you.
Teach me to walk in the light of His love …
Hope of Israel, rise in might! With the sword of truth and light …
Sister Kaku just called. She asked if you two wanted to sing in the choir for stake conference.
Yes!
We’re so happy you are in our choir!
Thanks!
We love to sing about Jesus.
You did a great job.
Singing makes me happy. I think it makes Jesus happy too!
“For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me” (Doctrine and Covenants 25:12).
Illustrations by Jared Beckstrand

I guess if there is any one reason for success, Dean’s reason is determination. He started painting when he was eight. When he was twelve he spent most of a year talking his parents into letting him ride his bike across the country. He finished the long journey when he was thirteen, perhaps the youngest person ever to make the ride. He rode from Ogden, Utah, to Massachusetts and then down to New York. He rode along feeling and sketching the life of America as he went. And he has traveled since—in cars, in trains, in planes. He feels he needs to learn all the time. As he explains, “Sometimes you have to go slowly. When you are on a bike or walking, you feel, you touch the heat and the cold. It is good to get down to life and to see how people act; to feel the rain when it hits your head; to have to worry about a place to sleep. This next summer I plan to walk from Georgia to Vermont, and when I get there, I’ll know the people.”