Gospel Story Finder

Second, prior to the creation of the Toronto Ontario Stake in 1960, Elder ElRay L. Christiansen, then an Assistant to the Council of the Twelve, recounted for the benefit of priesthood leaders a lesson from his own life when he was called to preside over the East Cache Stake in Logan, Utah. He mentioned that he and his counselors met to discuss what the stake members most needed and which principles of the gospel the stake presidency should stress. Their opinions varied from sacrament meeting attendance to observance of the Sabbath day, with a lot of territory in between. At length they agreed that the principle most needed was spirituality. They appreciated the truth found in the observation: When one deals in generalities, he will rarely have a success; but when he deals in specifics, he will rarely have a failure.
The four-year plan of President Christiansen and his counselors was refined in a splendid fashion. Year one: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by every family having family prayer. Year two: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by every member attending sacrament meeting weekly. Year three: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by each member paying an honest tithing. Year four: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by each member honoring the Sabbath day and keeping it holy. Each was the theme for the entire year; emphasis was given constantly.
After the four-year program was concluded, all four of the specific objectives had been attained, but of even greater significance, the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake had shown marked improvement.

I have a sweet friend who some time ago found herself in such a state. I do not know, nor need I know, what her problem was, but she did summon the courage to go tearfully to her bishop to confess. A Church court was held. She was excommunicated and began the difficult process of repentance. Quite a long time later, after the spiritual healing had taken place and at the time of her baptism, she expressed great appreciation to a bishop who had shed tears of caring for her, even while being firm in the steps that must be taken; to a dear friend in Relief Society, who, she said, had helped her “to understand and forgive all those who couldn’t understand or forgive” her; to those who had helped to keep her testimony strong in those quiet, desperate times when “coming home again” seemed nearly impossible.

I recently had a note from this friend, married now in the temple with a lovely family. She says, “Tell the sisters that it is all worth it. Tell them how beautiful and joyful life can be when you keep the commandments.”

Some twenty-four years ago I was seated in the choir seats of the Assembly Hall situated to the south of us here on Temple Square. The setting was stake conference. Elder Joseph Fielding Smith and Elder Alma Sonne had been assigned to reorganize our stake presidency. The Aaronic Priesthood, including members of bishoprics, were providing the music for the conference. Those of us who served as bishops were singing along with our young men. As we concluded singing our first selection, Brother Smith stepped to the pulpit and announced the names of the new stake presidency. I am confident the other members of the presidency had been made aware of their callings, but I had not. After reading my name, Brother Smith announced, “If Brother Monson is willing to respond to this call we shall be pleased to hear from him now.” As I stood at the pulpit and gazed out on that sea of faces, I remembered the song we had just sung. Its title was “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say No.” I selected as my acceptance theme “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say Yes.” Such is the courage I seek this evening.

In my youth, I experienced the joy of coming closer to the Savior—and of His coming closer to me—through simple acts of obedience to the commandments. When I was young, the sacrament was offered during an evening meeting. I can still remember one specific night, more than 75 years ago, when it was dark and cold outside. I remember a feeling of light and warmth as I realized that I had kept the commandment to gather with the Saints to partake of the sacrament, covenanting with our Heavenly Father to always remember His Son and keep His commandments.
At the end of the meeting that night, we sang the hymn “Abide with Me; ’Tis Eventide,” with the memorable words “O Savior, stay this night with me.”
These words brought an overwhelming sense of the Spirit to me, even as a young boy. I felt the Savior’s love and closeness that evening through the comfort of the Holy Ghost.

Keite de Lima A. Ahmed and Viviana Torres Noguera struggled to make ends meet even though their husbands worked hard for their families. For both, the PEF was a great blessing.
Viviana and her husband, Rafael, moved from Colombia to Manaus, an important industrial center in northern Brazil, in 2002 in search of economic opportunity. “Prayer, family councils, guidance from priesthood leaders, and career workshop classes helped us to know what our Father in Heaven wanted for us and to make the right decision at the right time,” says Viviana, who felt prompted to use a PEF loan to study international business.
In 2007 Viviana went to work overseeing imports for a supermarket in Manaus. Her family needed the extra income, but with a baby on the way, she had to resign. A few months after that child—the couple’s fourth—was born, Viviana was offered a job as director of international commerce for another company. By this time she had learned to speak Portuguese, and her native Spanish made her invaluable in doing business with Brazil’s Spanish-speaking neighbors.
“When I was offered the job, I said, ‘I have four children. I can’t commit myself to work 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.,’” says Viviana. “My boss told me that he had a lot of confidence in my abilities, saying, ‘I need someone I can depend on. Work at home.’ That surprised me.”
Using the Internet and a computer, Viviana works at home while her older children attend school and her baby naps. Only occasionally does she have to go to the office.
Rafael attributes the family’s blessings to more than coincidence. “The blessings we have received have come from a series of prayerful decisions and from actions made possible by the tools the Church has provided,” he says.

This past general conference, my wife and I looked at each other and said, “What are we doing for conference? Who are we inviting over?” In our YSA ward, we’d gotten used to gathering with other young adults to listen to the messages from our prophet and other Church leaders. We also both come from larger families, so now that it was just us, it felt odd not to watch conference surrounded by people.
But we decided not to have anyone over for conference. And honestly, breaking from our routine helped us listen more closely to the messages and focus more on how we could develop our relationship with the Savior.

In February 1993 Lamjav Purevsuren became the first native Mongolian baptized in the country. Purevsuren grew up in western Mongolia in a round, felt-lined tent called a ger. His family’s major challenge was providing for their animals during Mongolia’s harsh winters, when temperatures regularly fall as low as 40 degrees below zero Fahrenheit. Several times during the year, the family would dismantle their ger and move elsewhere to find new grazing pastures.
Purevsuren met Elder Stanley Smith when he took Elder Smith’s marketing class at the Mongolian National University. “My classmate Tsendkhuu Bat-Ulzii and I were curious why this American professional would come to Mongolia,” Purevsuren recalls.
“Elder Smith told us about his church and invited us to attend, but he gave us an apartment address. We were very surprised!”
Purevsuren and Bat-Ulzii attended the small service with the missionary couples and agreed to hear the discussions. Both men joined the Church, and Bat-Ulzii was eventually called as president of the Ulaanbaatar Tuul Branch. Total membership in the nation now exceeds 550, with three branches in Ulaanbaatar, one branch in Erdenet, a city of 44,000 located northwest of the capital, and one branch in Darkhan, a city of 65,000 located north of Ulaanbaatar.

I eagerly glanced down at the basketball summer league schedule, and saw to my dismay that 8 of the 12 games were on Sunday. What was I going to do? I don’t play on Sunday.
I looked across the room at my talented teammate. I had worked so hard to win the starting forward position, and if I didn’t play, I was going to lose the job to him. But I had decided a long time ago to never play on Sunday, and that wasn’t about to change now.
The coach finished up his speech by saying, “Congratulations on making the team. The first practice is tomorrow at five. See you then.”
The team slowly filed out the door as I sat nervously in my seat. I knew my course of action, but that wasn’t going to make this any easier. I hesitantly walked up to the front of the room and said, “Hey coach, I have a little problem.”
“What’s that, Brad?” he asked.
“Well, I was looking at the schedule, and I saw that there were eight games on Sunday. I won’t be able to play in those games,” I said with a shaky voice.
“How come?” he asked with a surprised look on his face.
“It’s a religious thing. I believe in keeping the Sabbath day holy and part of that is not playing sports on Sunday,” I responded, feeling a little awkward with the situation.
“Okay, well listen. I would still love to have you for the other games—that is if you still want to play,” he said with a smile.
“I would love to,” I said, and we shook hands as if to seal the agreement. I turned and walked out the door, feeling less awkward and more satisfied.
True, I wasn’t going to play for most of the league games and I might lose my starting position, but I felt good all the same. If I hadn’t made the decision early that I was never going to play on Sunday, I might have chosen differently. But I knew I would be blessed for keeping the Lord’s commandments. I confidently walked away from that room knowing that everything was going to be all right.

In 1982, because of my continued alcohol abuse, my wife, who had never failed in her faith, filed for divorce. At the time my family was living in Oklahoma, USA, but I had returned to Illinois, USA, where I had been raised. I had reached the point where I was about to lose the only thing that truly mattered to me: my family.
I began praying on my knees morning and evening to a God who I was no longer sure existed or, if He did, I figured He had long ago forgotten me. Yet for three months I prayed faithfully. Early one morning, while I was deep in prayer, a feeling of great relief came upon me and I knew that God lived, that He knew me, and that He loved me. I also knew I would never touch another drop of alcohol.
That very evening I received a call from my wife to let me know she was going to mail me the divorce papers to sign. During that conversation she suddenly said, “There is something very different about you. I don’t believe you are ever going to drink again, and I am going to tear up these papers.” We reunited, and two years later she gave birth to our third son.

The words God, Heavenly Father, and Jesus Christ were almost never mentioned in my home when I was growing up. My father didn’t really believe in God, and my mother didn’t attend the Christian church in which she had been baptized. When I was six, I wanted to go to church, but my parents decided not to allow me. To remedy my disappointment, I decided to hold my own church services on Sundays.
My knowledge of church and prayer was limited to what I knew from television and stories my friends had told me. The first thing I thought I needed was a Bible. I knew the Bible was a large book with a lot of important words and stories in it. We didn’t have a Bible, so I used the thing we had that fit the description best—the Encyclopaedia Britannica Junior. My congregation consisted of my stuffed animals and dolls. However, my church eventually dissolved, as reading from an encyclopedia can be very frustrating for a six-year-old. Though my church was over, my prayers to God continued.
When I was 13, my mother decided to return to her church. I went with her every Sunday for several months and soon joined the church’s youth group. I loved many things about this church, but I always felt like there was something missing. I continued to go until one day at a youth activity the other youth found out I was not a member of the church. The teenagers in the group began shunning me, and I eventually stopped going to church altogether.
Later, in high school, I took a comparative religions course. I learned a lot about many religions and realized there are a lot of good people with the best of intentions. But no religion ever seemed quite right.
I had convinced myself that no church was right and decided to live by my conscience, read the Bible (by this time I had bought my own), and do my best to live in accordance with the teachings of Jesus Christ. After all, no one in my family went to church, and they were all honest, good people.
In May of 2000, after seeing a movie about the life of Jesus Christ, I was so deeply touched that I earnestly prayed to God. I knew if I was patient, while continuing to do my best to follow Christ, I would receive answers to my prayers. I faced many tests in the months that followed. Through these tests, I became better at receiving the Spirit’s promptings.
Later that year I felt I should go to the visitors’ center at the Washington D.C. Temple to see the Christmas lights. I had been to the visitors’ center to see the lights before but had never inquired about the Church or its beliefs.
As I strolled through the visitors’ center, looking at the many displays, I thought of my cousin and another friend who were planning to serve missions for this church. I had studied about many religions but never this one. I was a little curious.
In my head I asked, expecting no answer, “Why in the world would those two men, or anyone for that matter, give up two years to serve missions—and at their own expense?” Much to my surprise, I received a humbling response. The soft whispers of the Spirit pierced my heart as my eyes fell upon a replica of gold plates. I was drawn to them. As I looked at them, I felt a powerful feeling of love, safety, and comfort, and in my mind I heard the words, “These are important. Learn about them.”
Immediately, I found a missionary and asked her about the plates. She told me about Joseph Smith translating the Book of Mormon. She also suggested I meet with the missionaries, but I declined.
The next day I went to the library to read all I could about the plates and the Church. I bought a copy of the Book of Mormon from a used-book store and began reading. I also read about the Church, but I wanted to learn more, so I decided to attend a church meeting.
I knew if I studied and prayed, God would confirm to me that this is the right church. So that’s what I did. I watched and waited patiently. And sure enough, my prayers were answered. On March 25, 2001, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
This is the Church of Jesus Christ. There are many good churches with many good people, but The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the church of our Lord and Savior, and it is the church with which our Heavenly Father is well pleased (see D&C 1:30). Our Heavenly Father loves us, has a plan for us, and will guide us back to Him if we earnestly seek Him.

Forty-seven years ago this general conference, I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. At the time, I had been serving on one of the general priesthood committees of the Church, and so before my name was presented, I sat with my fellow members of that priesthood committee, as was expected of me. My wife, however, had no idea where to go and no one with whom she could sit and, in fact, was unable to find a seat anywhere in the Tabernacle. A dear friend of ours, who was a member of one of the general auxiliary boards and who was sitting in the area designated for the board members, asked Sister Monson to sit with her. This woman knew nothing of my call—which would be announced shortly—but she spotted Sister Monson, recognized her consternation, and graciously offered her a seat. My dear wife was relieved and grateful for this kind gesture. Sitting down, however, she heard loud whispering behind her as one of the board members expressed her annoyance to those around her that one of her fellow board members would have the audacity to invite an “outsider” to sit in this area reserved only for them. There was no excuse for her unkind behavior, regardless of who might have been invited to sit there. However, I can only imagine how that woman felt when she learned that the “intruder” was the wife of the newest Apostle.

Kelly and her mom walked up to the church building and looked around. It was beautiful, with palm trees swaying outside. The sign on the building said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” in two different languages—Malay and Chinese.
Kelly didn’t know much about Jesus Christ. And she had never been to church before. Her mom’s friend, Liza, went to church here. She had invited Kelly and her mom to come with her.
As they went inside, people smiled and said hello. Everyone was so nice. Kelly and Mom followed Liza upstairs to a big room. Liza said it was called a chapel.
Kelly sat down next to Mom and Liza in a row of chairs, and soon church started. She listened to the music. She liked how it made her feel, even though she didn’t know the words.
At the end of the meeting, a woman got up to say a prayer. Kelly looked around as everyone else folded their arms and closed their eyes. She still felt something really good inside. What was it? It felt different than anything she had felt before!
As they left the church later, Kelly told Mom about the feeling she’d had during the prayer.
“Well,” Mom said, “I didn’t really feel anything special.”
But Kelly kept thinking about how she’d felt at church. She had liked the prayer. And she had liked hearing about Jesus.
“Can the missionaries teach me?” Kelly asked Mom. “I want to learn more.”
“That should be fine,” Mom said.
The missionaries taught Kelly how to pray and how to read the scriptures. They taught her about Jesus and how He loves us. They gave her a small picture of Jesus to help her think about Him. Kelly liked what she was learning.
One day the missionaries gave her a special challenge. “Will you try to pray during the week?” they asked.
Up until now, Kelly had only prayed with the missionaries. But she wanted to try it on her own. She knew Heavenly Father was always listening, and He wanted to hear from her.
“I’ll do it,” she promised.
The next day at school was a special one. Kelly was going to sing in a competition! She had learned a beautiful new Chinese song. Learning all the notes and tones had been hard work! She had practiced and practiced and practiced.
Now that it was time to perform, Kelly was nervous. She pulled out the picture of Jesus she had put in the pocket of her school uniform that morning. She decided to say a prayer, like the missionaries had shown her. “Heavenly Father, please help me let go of my nervousness,” she prayed. “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Then Kelly stepped out onto the stage. She stared at the audience and the judges. She thought about the picture of Jesus in her pocket and felt a little bit better. She took a deep breath and started to sing.
She sang all the words just like she’d practiced. As she sang the last note and took a bow, Kelly knew Heavenly Father had heard her prayer and helped her.
With a smile, Kelly walked off the stage. She couldn’t wait to tell the missionaries about what happened! She wanted to keep praying every day.

When I was a young boy, I spent most of my summer on the farm with my Grandma and Grandpa Pace in the little town of Hoytsville, Utah. My grandfather had a great sense of humor, and he was a tease. I loved to be around him.
He loved his family deeply. I remember him taking me into the living room and showing me a picture in the Church News. He and Grandma were standing in front of the Salt Lake Temple with their eleven children and their spouses. They had all gone through a temple session together for my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. This had been the happiest day of Grandpa’s life.
Many years later, after I was called as a General Authority, I performed the marriage ceremony for one of my cousins. My mind went back to my grandfather telling me of the happiest day of his life. In my mind’s eye, I pictured him in the temple with all of his children. I decided to write a letter to all my cousins, telling them of this experience and reminding them of Grandma and Grandpa.
We later held a family reunion on what would have been our grandparents’ ninety-second wedding anniversary. The reunion included a special session in the Salt Lake Temple. We didn’t have one hundred percent of the family there, but we had a pretty good percentage. Eighty-six members of our family, including spouses, were at the temple together. It was a very inspirational experience. As I greeted my cousins, I had the feeling that Grandma and Grandpa and other family members from the other side of the veil were also there. We all felt very close. After the session, we met on the steps at the east door of the temple and had our picture taken together. This memento will be treasured by us and our children for years to come.
I am grateful for these moments of joy the gospel brings to families, but I am equally grateful for the comfort it offers in times of deepest sorrow.
I served as a mission president in Australia, and when we came home for general conference, we met Addison, a three-month-old grandson, for the first time. He died of crib death shortly afterward, and six weeks later my father passed away. It’s in times like these when your testimony really makes a difference. Having wept at the passing of loved ones, and rejoiced in the births of grandchildren, I have come to realize that from the eternal perspective, birth and death are equally worthwhile events in our eternal progression.
As a child, I heard my grandfather talk about how much his family meant to him. Now that I am a father and a grandfather, I know what he is talking about firsthand. My family is where my heart is.
Children, you have responsibilities in the home to support one another. If all children could catch the vision of how much nurturing you can do in your own families, you could change the world. Never underestimate the good influence you can be on your parents, brothers and sisters, a cousin, an uncle, an aunt, a grandma, or a grandpa. Grandchildren can do a lot to nurture grandparents and bring great joy into their lives. That is especially true if the grandparent is a widow or widower. My mother is alone now, and as my children drop in and bring their babies, it lets her both give and receive love.
Throughout her life, our youngest daughter, Joéll, has been a good influence on our family. She was the one who reminded us to have family prayer. She was the one who tried to get us excited about family home evening. She devised treasure hunts; she fixed treats; she would do anything to try to get the family excited about having family home evening. Occasionally her older brothers resisted, but even as they were resisting, there was a respect for what she was trying to do.
This kind of family closeness can continue even after you grow up and leave home. While my wife and I were on our mission, our married children did a lot to support us. They stuck together and held monthly family home evenings. They published a monthly family letter that we all sent back and forth. None of them ever complained about our absence, and it was evident that their testimonies brought them closer together as siblings and to us.
Not even death should separate loving family members for long. The First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve Apostles issued a proclamation to the world concerning families. Part of it states: “The divine plan of happiness enables family relationships to [continue] beyond the grave. Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.”

It wasn’t long ago that Lem Guluka became our new bishop. I had never met him before, so I had no strong feelings about his being called. He was a smart-looking man and a convert from Africa. He started performing his duties the very day we sustained him. He’d come to our lessons in Young Women and hold youth activities at his house. The first time he did this, most of the youth were still in the “getting to know you” stage. One of us asked what his favorite animal was. He replied, “The rooster.” The rooster? I was surprised at such an odd response, and the others seemed to share this reaction. Then he broke into an imitation of a rooster’s strut. By this time, we were in hysterics. It was then that I realized how much his calling had really affected me.
I grew to love this man, my bishop, who could make us laugh and who was always there when we needed him. It made me think of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and how getting to know Him, as a convert myself, made a big difference in my life. Bishop Guluka is the most Christlike person I know. As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we gain testimonies by drawing closer to God and His Son. Likewise, by befriending our Church leaders, we can receive guidance. I learned that lesson through one of my most reliable friends—the bishop.

Craig Hannah, 17, has been a pioneer in his own family. “I first got involved with the Church at sports night. I got talking to the missionaries and they persuaded me to come to church on Sunday. It felt good, so I kept coming. They started teaching me the discussions; then they asked me to get baptised. I prayed about it and felt really good about it. So I said yes. And when I got baptised, a few more of my family followed.”

When I finished primary school, my father taught me to make decisions for myself. I had to travel more than 150 km to reach the city center of Mweka in the Kasai province of DR Congo, where I started secondary school in humanitarian studies with priests of the Catholic diocese of Mweka.
Once I finished secondary school, I had to follow the Catholic faith to continue my humanitarian studies; hence from the fifth and sixth humanitarian year we were prepared to embrace the Catholic faith. After completing the humanitarian cycle, we had the privilege of preparing ourselves as aspirants with the Josephite fathers.
When starting my first year in philosophy, my older brother who was my tutor informed the priest that I should not continue as an aspirant among the Josephite fathers. Not accepting the opposition, the Josephite fathers, through my godfather, asked me to abandon the path of consecration in the Catholic Church for something else.
It was then that I moved to Kinshasa to commence my studies in law. Once I arrived in 2007, I enrolled at the University of Kinshasa. In my first year in 2008, we experienced a total strike at the University of Kinshasa. During the strike, I left the neighborhood where I lived to go to the commune of Masina to stay with my older brother.
And once in Masina, during the strike, I discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the neighborhood where I lived with my older brother.
I made the decision to go to a meetinghouse of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on a Sunday. When I arrived at the building, a brother greeted me at the door and invited me to come inside. I then participated in the Sunday service and afterwards I was placed in contact with the full-time missionaries.
I took the missionary lessons for two weeks. After being taught, I had a strong desire to be baptized.
However, this was the beginning of strong opposition from within my family and my older brother who was like a guardian to me. He told the village to inform everyone that I wanted to become a member, that it is a bad church, and that no one should support me or contribute money to support my academic studies.
Consequently, I dropped out of law school and began preparing for a full-time mission. Thanks to Bishop Mutambay’s advice and direction, I remained a member of the Church despite opposition and began preparing for my full-time mission. I served in the Lubumbashi DR Congo from June 2013 to June 2015.
After serving as a full-time missionary, I came home and was fortunate to find the Church’s inspired Perpetual Education Fund program which allowed me to achieve my goals in completing my law studies through this program instituted by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008).
Today, I am a lawyer. My wife, Mireille, and I are parents of four children: Ross Power Kongo Kongo, Ron Cross Kongo Munemeka, Blacke Prestones Kongo Ibula, and Brian Lesser Congo. I accepted adversity by relying on my faith without knowing what was going to happen to me when I was abandoned for having chosen the restored Church.
I know that God is our Heavenly Father and despite difficulties and opposition He is there to help us. I will never be disappointed with the path I took and my decision to join His church.
I know this was the best decision I ever made. I will be forever grateful. Joseph Smith is the prophet of the Restoration, and I am grateful to be in the Church of Jesus Christ.

I finished law school around the time of my daughter’s first birthday. My wife and I looked forward to celebrating my graduation, our daughter’s birthday, and the new opportunities that would come to us, but nothing went as planned.
I found myself unemployed shortly after completing my degree and had difficulty finding work. Soon, financial difficulties came. Just having a simple birthday celebration would be difficult.
After many conversations with my wife, we accepted our situation. It was not easy for me as a father not to have the ability to buy even a simple present for my daughter and to see my beloved wife feeling frustrated.
I didn’t understand what was happening. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me understand what He expected of me. Suddenly, as if a voice spoke to my mind, I heard the following words: “You possess something more valuable than any material possession on this earth. You hold the priesthood. What better gift could you give your daughter than a priesthood blessing?”
Tears filled my eyes as I thought about what the priesthood means to me. My heart filled with gratitude when I considered that the priesthood is the power that can unite my family for all eternity.
I shared my feelings with my wife. I told her that offering a blessing to our daughter was all I could give. We both decided that this would bring happiness and peace to her, and that would be enough.
On the day of our daughter’s birthday, friends, relatives, and neighbors brought a cake and simple decorations. We were grateful to celebrate this special day with those we love. That night, I placed my hands on my daughter’s head and gave her a blessing. I blessed her with all that the Spirit of the Lord prompted me to say.
We are still going through a period of changes and challenges regarding unemployment and finances. But even in the midst of sadness and frustration, peace and comfort comes to us through our Savior, Jesus Christ. I have no doubt that being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with access to priesthood power is a blessing. It was all I could give on my daughter’s birthday, and it was more than enough.

Just five years ago last month, our family got involved in a situation that was quite unexpected at the time, but that has changed our entire family. We took a foster child into our home.
I remember that day very well. It was one of those pressure situations in which they couldn’t find anybody else and the child was coming the next day. After our great volunteer effort, as a couple we started having all kinds of misgivings about the commitment we had made. We even became a little upset. We felt like we had almost more children of our own than we could handle at the time. We had five children, and it seemed like all of them were at some special age where they make big messes but are not quite responsible enough to see that things get picked up. Now, here we had another child coming who wasn’t even one of our own.
With all of these doubts, we sat down with our children to make some preparations. With the faith that can come only from a child, our children, in just a short period of time, were ready to accept their big sister.
Jean arrived, and we found a child much more frightened than we were. She was a seventeen-year-old high school sophomore. We were a family that had not seen a child have a ninth birthday yet, so we knew we were in for some quick learning. That was probably the only right assumption we made about the whole situation.
Right off, we found that we had a new problem. It concerned bathing. She was there just a few days when we realized that something had to be done. Finally, it was decided by the matriarch that the patriarch needed to do his duty—so a daddy-daughter talk was the order of the day. I must say that it went exceptionally well. Starting the next day, we didn’t have any hot water for three months.
We look back now on the short time that we had Jean—just a few months—and we realize that we learned many things. Let me take just a minute and review some of them with you.
Both my wife and I had to struggle a little at first to let ourselves accept another child on the same level as our own children. Those first few days were a real struggle as we had to try very hard not to put our own children first. That was an invaluable lesson for us. We can accept anybody now almost immediately. We could have gone a lifetime and not learned how to do that. Our children learned that, too, and we will be eternally grateful for that.
The second thing we learned from Jean was that we can certainly learn many things from others. Jean taught our children many things. She loved to work, and she’d always take a job and do it right. And then she’d pitch in and help the other children with their jobs. She helped our children internalize many of the principles that we were trying to teach them. One of the biggest challenges we were having with them at that time was trying to get them to take a job and do it completely. They seemed to do the minimum—either that or a little less. Jean taught them differently. They would struggle with us, as most children do with their parents, but they would accept it from her.
As an example, Jean liked the satisfaction of doing dishes by hand. She wouldn’t use the dishwasher. And to this day we have a daughter that enjoys doing dishes that way.
The third thing Jean helped us with was learning how to communicate with our children. As an older child, if she understood a situation, she basically felt the same way about it as we did. We found that the goal became one of understanding. At first there was a language problem between us; she nodded her head “yes” all the time, but we soon found out that she had learned to do that when sentences ended, even if she hadn’t understood what was being said. We came to realize that we needed to extend the same courtesies to our other children that we were giving to Jean. In the process of raising children every day, we start expecting too much from them, and we think they should automatically understand all the things that are going on in the family. Sometimes some of us treat the neighbor children better than we treat our own. It was a great lesson that we are thankful we were able to learn.
The fourth thing was that this was the first real fast-moving missionary experience we’d had as a family. We used to call Jean our “sponge”—she wanted to learn it all. She would ask us questions about everything. She wanted to know why we had to sit down as a group to eat, why we knelt when we prayed, why a person needs to go to church every Sunday, why we have to have different foods for every meal. When it came to gospel living, she felt a special kinship and wanted to know all that she could find out.
I recall one experience that we had with Jean when we went camping. Immediately after I stopped the car, Jean got out and began sweeping the camping area. Our children just couldn’t believe it, but she continued until she had swept over all the area, until all the loose dirt and pine needles were in a neat pile. But she didn’t stop there: she came over and knelt down by the children and spent the next few minutes talking to them about the principle of cleanliness—that when you are camping or living outdoors cleanliness becomes a very important thing, and that by taking a few steps you can make life livable. And the amazing thing was that they listened. We were just grateful that we were in the Rockies of Colorado and not the sands of New Mexico. I always wondered how deep she would have gone to find solid ground.
Just three weeks ago, Jean returned to our home for a few days with her two children. She was quietly asking questions about ways she could be influencing her family and her children.
Now, I’m sure that as you listen to this, it sounds like the whole experience was joyful and always a good time. But I can promise you that it wasn’t. It’s like any service done for others; you have to sacrifice something in order to make it happen. The deep feelings of satisfaction that come from service can be gained in no other way. It changes people and prepares them for something very important.
We are eternally grateful to Jean, and not just because we consider her our eldest daughter, or because of the joy that she brings into our home. But we are grateful for the opportunity that she gave us to be of service to another. We have learned as parents that we can spend an awful lot of time teaching gospel principles and applying them in our family and working toward perfection. Sometimes it feels like a great deal of effort is being put forth with very little impact on our children. But as soon as we started living gospel principles through service to another, a great thing began to happen. Our children began to understand the principles of the gospel that we had been trying to teach them.
As we attempted as a family to be of service to another, we found that we received the most. What a marvelous thing that is! By helping someone with something that she couldn’t do alone, we received blessings we weren’t able to obtain by ourselves. That’s the gospel of Jesus Christ in its truest sense. As the family and the individual are strengthened through service to others, they are blessed, and a Zion people is prepared.
I know that Jesus Christ lives, that this Church contains his complete gospel plan, that welfare principles are the gospel in action. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“It was a great opportunity to strengthen my testimony,” says Daniel Kirkpatrick, who baptized his friend Jeron Fosjord after helping the missionaries teach him. “It helped me appreciate the priesthood more because it wasn’t my dad performing the ordinance. It wasn’t one of the older adults or even my older brother. It was me. I had the priesthood, and I could use it.”

Daniel, a priest in the Pioneer Park Ward, was struck by the eternal consequences of performing Jeron’s baptism. “Jeron is going to be a missionary some day. He’ll affect others, and they’ll affect others. It was a sobering thought, a wake-up call, that what I was doing will have eternal echoes.”

When the day finally came, naturally Dan was nervous about performing an ordinance in front of other people. “I was a little scared,” he says. “I probably asked Jeron his middle name a thousand times to make sure I got it right.” It didn’t help that the font hadn’t filled all the way.

“The water didn’t even reach our knees,” Dan says.

He got the name right, but the water was so low that it took him four tries before Jeron was completely submerged. “I just about drowned him one time because as he was coming up I saw that he hadn’t gone all the way under, so I panicked and pushed him down again.”

After the third try, they went ahead with the talks and musical number while the font filled some more. By Dan’s fourth and final try, the water was up to their waists. “It was easy then,” he says.

Despite it being a “rough first time,” Dan loved the experience: “It was awesome.” Not only did it strengthen his testimony and help him appreciate the priesthood more, the experience excited him about serving a mission.

“I’ve felt the fears and tasted the successes of a full-time mission,” he says. “I’m excited to get out there and serve.”

The third poster is entitled “America Rediscovered.” Centuries passed before the Lord guided Christopher Columbus to the New World. On several occasions Columbus gave credit to the Almighty. In writing to the Spanish leaders, he said, “Our Lord unlocked my mind, sent me upon the sea, and gave me fire for the deed. Who heard of my enterprise, called it foolish, mocked me, and laughed. But who can doubt but that the Holy Ghost inspired me?” (Jacob Wassermann, Columbus, Don Quixote of the Seas, trans. Eric Sutton, Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1930, p. 20.) During the voyage, after weeks of sailing with no land in sight, mutiny raised its head. Finally Columbus promised the captains of the two other ships that they would turn back if land was not sighted in 48 hours. Then he went to his cabin and in his words “prayed mightily to the Lord.” The next day, October 12, they sighted land. We know a land of liberty and religious freedom was a necessary ingredient in the plan of God. Thus, Columbus and others, particularly those seeking religious freedom, were led to the shores of America.