Gospel Story Finder

Recently, my 16-year-old niece Megan and two of her friends came for a sleepover. As we talked that evening, one of them asked me what it had been like growing up on a farm in the olden days. … I told Megan and her friends that in the “olden days,” I had been painfully shy and had absolutely no self-confidence.
“How did you get over feeling that way?” Megan asked. A pat answer was on the tip of my tongue when I stopped, sensing that these terrific young women were receptive to more. So I told them that the reason was a spiritual one: It wasn’t until I began to understand how the Lord felt about me that my feelings about myself and my life slowly began to change. Their questions then came in a hurry: How did I know how the Lord felt? And how could they find out how He felt about them?
For several hours, scriptures in hand, we talked about how to hear the voice of the Spirit, about how eager the Lord is to unveil the knowledge stored safely inside our spirits concerning who we are and what our mission is, and about the life-changing difference it makes when we know.
… There is nothing more vital to our success and our happiness here than learning to hear the voice of the Spirit. It is the Spirit who reveals to us our identity—which isn’t just who we are but who we have always been. And that when we know, our lives take on a sense of purpose so stunning that we can never be the same again.
… Our spirits long for us to remember the truth about who we are, because the way we see ourselves, our sense of identity, affects everything we do. … It affects the very way we live our lives. So, today, I invite you to ponder in a new way not just who you are but who you have always been.
… Can you imagine that God, who knew us perfectly, reserved us to come now, when the stakes would be higher and the opposition more intense than ever? When He would need women who would help raise and lead a chosen generation in the most lethal spiritual environment? Can you imagine that He chose us because He knew we would be fearless in building Zion?
… Noble and great. Courageous and determined. Faithful and fearless. That is who you are, and that is who you have always been. Understanding that truth can change your life, because this knowledge carries a confidence that cannot be duplicated any other way.
… When you understand that you were chosen and reserved for now, and when you live in harmony with that mission, you’ll be happier than you have ever been before.
… God is our Father, and His Only Begotten Son is the Christ. May we rejoice in once again standing tall for the Savior and serving with valor and vigor in His vineyard. And may we be fearless in building up the Zion of our God—because we know who we are and who we have always been.

If anyone ever compiles a history of Christmas magic, one chapter will record that in Salt Lake City, each Christmastime, a forest grew overnight—no ordinary woods, but a forest of Christmas trees sparkling with ribbons and candy canes, apples and ornaments, dancing with ballerinas and bright-colored birds, Santas, elves, and gingerbread men, laughing with toy trains, planes, trucks, popcorn strings, and tiny perfect loaves of wheat-good bread. And somewhere in that chapter, probably near the end, the author will explain that the magic of this forest helped heal children in pain and gave hope where hope had been lost. And the last footnote will state humbly that the forest sometimes taught people how to love and give.
If this all sounds like a children’s story, it is in a way, but mostly it’s a people-story, because this forest is grown every year by people-magic, and most authorities agree that’s the strongest and sweetest magic of all.
The magic began in the heads of people all around the Salt Lake area. These people belonged to church and civic groups, businesses and families, and soon these people and these groups were busily making Christmas tree ornaments. They worked hard to make the ornaments as beautiful and artistic as they could, but above all, they tried to make them glow with the spirit of Christmas, because that is a powerful aid in working people-magic.
One day in early December all these people appeared at the Salt Palace, Salt Lake’s beautiful convention center, with their decorations and their trees, and as they carefully hung the ornaments on the trees, a Christmas forest was born.
Meanwhile, people all over the area were working magic of their own in ovens and on cutting boards where Christmas cakes, cookies, and pastries of all kinds were being conjured up by magicians of the kitchen amid flour and eggshells and the rich, spicy aromas of December. Gingerbread castles sprang up under their fingertips, and cookie trains rolled forth on delicious wheels. In basements and sewing rooms, wizards of workshop and sewing basket were putting the finishing touches on handcrafted gift items. All these sweet-smelling and straight-stitched miracles soon found their way to the Salt Palace where the forest was glimmering. The magic was at work.
Drawn by the enchantment, thousands of people came to the Salt Palace and wandered through the trees, oohing and aahing in a slow-moving river of wonderment. They gladly made contributions at the door and often purchased Christmas gifts and Christmas confections from the gift boutique and Sweete Shoppe. The whole splendid Yuletide crunch of people and trees and treats and laughter was called the Festival of Trees, and when the festival had ended, local businessmen and other generous men and women bought the decorated trees for prices often running into four figures.
And that was only the beginning of the magic, because the proceeds of the festival were given to the Primary Children’s Medical Center where they helped provide medical care that changed children’s lives for the better.
If anyone ever compiles that book of Christmas magic, the seminary students from Magna will be mentioned in it along with a lot of other good people. And last of all it will probably have a few words to say about the magic of the Primary Children’s Medical Center and of the children it helps. There is the magic of little Kirk who was told he would never walk, but walks. There is the magic of Lynn Ann who is courageously holding her own against leukemia. There is the magic of Joey who overcame crippling emotional problems to become a happy child. The work of the hospital staff is in keeping with the spirit of the Savior who was born in Bethlehem and brought to the world something better than magic. He too loved little children.

Ralph Foster Diston was born at Trimdon Grange, Durham, England, on the 24th of October 1912. His parents, Ralph and Elizabeth, were Latter-day Saints and he was brought up in the faith. In 1921, at age 8, he was baptised and confirmed. He had grown up as a member of the Sunderland branch, but by 1939 he had moved to Newcastle where he worshipped with the Saints. For employment he had worked at a colliery before joining the army. In 1933 he married Francis Bransby and in 1938 they had a son, Francis. He was an ordained Deacon.
During the Second World War he served as a Company Sergeant Major (CSM) in the Durham Light Infantry (DLI). Brother Diston is remembered for his extraordinary bravery and leadership, particularly during the Battle of the Mereth Line near Wadi Zigzaou, Tunisia, on the 21st of March 1943.
During this battle, Ralph was ordered to capture a redoubt (a fortification). He led his men through intense combat, showing a complete disregard for danger and demonstrated ‘magnificent leadership’. His actions included leading assaults on enemy fortified positions, clearing trenches, and rallying his men under heavy fire. After capturing the redoubt they secured 120 Italian prisoners. His courage and determination were instrumental in the DLI’s success, and he was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, with commendations from General Bernard Montgomery.
Despite the overwhelming odds, Brother Diston continued to inspire his men. The next day, German tanks and infantry approached the redoubt on three fronts. His cool leadership helped his company hold their position until they ran out of ammunition, after which he guided them to safety. In a nearby anti-tank ditch they armed themselves with more ammunition and continued their defence.
After recovering from wounds he incurred during the defence, he continued his military service and was involved in the Allied Invasion of Sicily. In July 1943 he led his soldiers into battle and was involved in the Assault on Primosole Bridge which spanned the Simeo River near Catania. This time, however, there was a resolute German defence and he was injured during the assault. He died of his wounds on the 18th of July leaving behind a wife and young son.
Although Ralph was only 30 years old at the time of his death, he showed immense bravery and leadership. Brother Ralph Diston is buried at the Catania War Cemetery in Sicily, Italy. On the 22nd of August 1943, a one-minute’s silence was held in honour of Ralph in the Newcastle branch.

I like the story about Mary Ann Freeze, a stake leader of Young Women many years ago. Her health was always very poor, and so one day all the members of her board and all the young women of the stake fasted and prayed for her. She felt the strength of their love and prayers. That night she wrote in her journal: “I told them that I always knew I was beloved of them, but never to what an extent before. We all felt that that experience had created a more powerful bond of love between us.”

The Young Women of the Vladivostok Russia District had to work around tight school schedules to have their first-ever Young Women conference. The girls learned some crafts at the conference, but more importantly, they learned how to let their light shine and of the power of gratitude and prayer.
When the girls had some free time during the conference, they didn’t use it to finish their cross-stitching or other projects; they wrote a song about how much they enjoyed the conference and about what they had learned there. They performed the song for their leaders at the end of the conference. The Vladivostok Young Women are looking forward to sharing more time and strength in the future and to sharing their light with others.

My husband, Gary, a marriage and family therapist, shares valuable insights about parent-child communication. “Asking simple questions and then listening is a great way to get children thinking,” he often tells parents. I’ve watched him do it in our home, and I’m gaining some skill in putting it into practice myself.

For example, our son came home from school one day and seemed discouraged. I said, “What’s up? You seem sad.” He replied, “Jim [not his real name] is such a jerk.” And I said, “Oh, how’s that?” I was surprised at what followed. “He’s been inviting his girlfriend over to his house every day after school since his mom started working.” Resisting the temptation to begin a magnificent sermon on morality, I said, “Hmmmmm.” And he said, “It’s so stupid. He’s just asking for trouble.” That was definitely similar to what I would have said, only more concise. I asked, “What do you mean?” Then a flood of information poured forth regarding all the dangers of being alone in a house with a girlfriend. But it didn’t stop there. He discussed all sides of the issue, including the terrible effects of venereal disease and abortion. All I did was listen and agree. I’m convinced he would have heard very little of the sermon had it been preached by me.

I’ll never forget a lesson I had with a young woman on my mission.
She kept asking for physical or tangible evidence that the Book of Mormon was true. And I sat there, unsure of how to respond to her questions and accusations. I was a young, bright-eyed missionary, and all I knew was that the Book of Mormon was true. I felt discouraged because I didn’t know all the answers to her questions. But I realized, it wouldn’t have mattered if I had physical evidence to prove the Book of Mormon was true. Proof wouldn’t give her faith.

The young woman I taught on my mission would only believe the Church was true if my companion and I could disprove all her accusations. But the only thing I could ever prove to her was the reality of finding answers through personal revelation. 6

I ended our lesson with that young woman on my mission by testifying boldly of the Book of Mormon. I told her the only way she could truly find answers to all her questions was to ask Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon was true. Until she understood the basics of the gospel of Jesus Christ, she could put her other questions on the shelf and revisit them later with greater understanding and faith. But honestly, doesn’t that apply to all of us? We can actually increase our faith by acting in faith.

“Are we going to make this marriage work, or not?” he asked.
Seven months married, six months pregnant, I sat on the bed, tears streaming down my cheeks and spotting my nightgown. I couldn’t give my husband an answer!
Jim, a nonmember, and a lieutenant junior grade aboard a U.S. destroyer, sailed out of San Diego, California, harbor every other week. He loved his duty, his friends aboard ship, and coming home to his sweetheart. But I was miserable! Because I was alone every other week and living in a strange city with no friends, no family, and (since I was inactive) no Church affiliation, I sank often into a state of despondency. Morning sickness, nausea, and a growing waistline did not improve my attitude. I felt trapped!
At the end of each “out to sea” week, Jim would return, ever the optimistic, expecting to find a happy, smiling wife. But after too many days of lonely vigilance, I was anything but sunshine. A dark gloomy cloud settled over our little rented bungalow. Doubts assailed me. I wasn’t sure I loved him. He didn’t seem to understand me or my needs. Was this what wedded bliss was supposed to be like? We had tried to talk it out before, but each time we satisfied only surface deficiencies, never the real problem.
Now we sat facing each other across the bed, our relationship teetering seriously. What were we going to do? The word divorce arose. Is that what we wanted? It carried a sound of finality, of permanency, and made us involuntarily shudder. But how could we change?
We sat in silence, pondering. Then Jim looked up. “Judith,” he said, “I think our problem is one of selfishness. Are you willing to make an honest effort to try an experiment? For the next thirty days, I’ll think only of you and your needs, and you think only of me and my needs. If at the end of that time our marriage has not improved, then we’ll talk about … about another solution.”
I agreed. I wanted—hungered for—happiness.
“But we must guard against one thing,” Jim warned. “We must not predetermine each other’s actions judging them against what we would like. Our wants may be out of proportion to what we receive, and disappointment may occur. This is to be a total concentration of what we can do for each other.”
The next morning I slipped out of bed early, fighting nausea and bleary eyes. Jim loved large hot breakfasts; I preferred sleeping later, with a light morning snack. Nevertheless, I cooked a large breakfast for him. Jim smelled the food and came into the kitchen smiling. So much for sleeping in! Even though every morning I still fought nausea, I cooked special breakfasts.
“Honey, I can hardly wait to get up in the morning just to see what exciting menu is on the table,” Jim said. “You’re a marvelous cook and I love it!” With this encouragement, my breakfasts continued to improve—and so did my willingness to prepare them.
The second big change came during those week-long assignments when Jim was out to sea. I took walks every day, started conversations with the local grocer and his wife, immersed myself in uplifting books and music, and shut every thought of self-pity out of my mind. Fridays required long preparation. I knew his optimism envisioned me running out the door and into his arms—so I ran! And then I led him back into the house to a carefully prepared meal. Romance blossomed again!
One night he said, “I feel like seeing a movie. Would you like to go?” Actually, I was tired and thinking about retiring early, but I remembered the commitment and grabbed my coat. Perhaps the hardest part is doing what you don’t feel like doing, without minding. The key, I’ve found, is attitude. Discomfort becomes insignificant when you have a genuine desire to please each other.
Of course I didn’t do all the changing in our marriage. Jim, too, kept his part of the commitment—and he did it in ways he knew would be most meaningful to me. His largest contribution was personalized attention. Five-minute rubdowns to my aching limbs and back expanded to an hour, soothing my nerves as well as my body. He provided more opportunities for talk and relaxation—taking me away from our four walls on weekends into the sunshine, to the beach, or to the park for archery or picnics. And he listened more attentively to what I was feeling and going through. He perceived how easily my feelings of confidence could fail, and so he reminded me of my positive traits during those periods to bolster my ego.
Even though he was only twenty-three years old, Jim commanded one hundred men aboard ship—men who saluted and followed his orders daily. Sometimes I had suspected he unconsciously desired the same behavior from me. But, happily, during our thirty day experiment, that harsh edge disappeared. In a matter of two weeks, I began to feel cherished, appreciated, and loved.
Our “extreme” commitment meant keeping each other’s needs always in the background of our thoughts; it meant asking ourselves each day “What can I do for him/her? How can I show I care?” It meant—for both of us—literally eliminating the feelings and thought of “I demand!” and “What about me?” and “Why doesn’t he/she … ?”
At first changes in our marriage were changes of attitude, but they were based upon the true principle of unselfishness, and our understanding and acceptance of the principle dictated our actions. We paid the price to please each other, and in that process discovered the beginnings of true love. All it took was to give instead of take; to be thoughtful instead of thoughtless; to desire to please rather than be pleased.

Lance loved a lot of things about being five years old. He loved being old enough to help with the lambs on the farm. He loved giving his first talk in Primary. And he loved looking out for his three-year-old brother, Gabe.
Gabe wanted to be big like Lance. When Grandma asked Lance to pick beans in the garden, Gabe got a basket and went along. When Lance swept out the chicken coop, Gabe found a broom and helped. When Lance started humming a song, Gabe hummed along too.
One Sunday Gabe looked really excited as he came out of Primary.
“Guess what?” he asked Lance. “I’m supposed to give a talk, just like you did!”
During the week, Gabe practiced telling a story about Jesus blessing the little children. Lance watched his brother hold up the pictures at just the right moment. When Gabe forgot some of the words, Lance helped him out. On Sunday morning, Lance said a special prayer with Gabe that his talk would go well.
Finally the time came for Gabe to give his talk.
“He looks scared,” Lance thought as he watched Gabe walk to the podium and step in front of the microphone. Gabe’s eyes opened wider as he saw all the children there. Suddenly it seemed like he was frozen. Not a word came out of his mouth.
“Poor Gabe!” Lance thought. He watched nervously from the second row until he couldn’t sit there any longer. He stood up and walked to the microphone, placing his arm around Gabe’s shoulders.
“It’s all right, Gabe. You can do it. Remember the words?” Lance whispered. After another second of silence, Lance took a deep breath. He knew that his brother needed his help.
“Today I’d like to share the story of Jesus blessing the children,” Lance began. He had heard the talk so many times during the week that he knew every word. As he spoke, he kept looking over at Gabe. Little by little, Gabe relaxed. When Lance got to the last sentence, Gabe leaned toward the microphone.
“Jesus loves all of us,” Gabe whispered. “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Lance looked down at Gabe and smiled. Gabe smiled back. He had given his first talk—with some help from his older brother.

I will never forget walking the grounds at Winter Quarters, Nebraska, USA, where pioneers had lived years before. The ground felt sacred, almost as if I were visiting an outdoor temple.
My eyes filled with tears, blurring my vision. I saw a statue but could not make out the figures. When I wiped away my tears, I saw a man and a woman whose faces were full of grief. As I looked closer, I saw the figure of an infant lying in a grave at their feet.
This sight filled me with so many emotions: sadness, anger, gratitude, and joy. I wanted to take away the pain those Saints felt, but I was grateful at the same time for what they had sacrificed for the gospel.
My experience at Winter Quarters helped me realize that Heavenly Father gives the gospel to His children and allows them the agency to do with it as they will. The parents of that baby could have chosen to take an easier course. Following the prophet and living the gospel required these pioneers to press forward even when it meant burying their child. But they chose to take the gospel into their lives and accepted their challenges. I learned that the Saints’ dedication to the gospel and their determination to press forward were driven by faith and hope—hope for a bright future and faith that the Lord knew them and could ease their pain.

Eugene Till, our mission president in Seoul, Korea, and Brent Anderson, one of our Latter-day Saint chaplains, were my companions as we traveled from the demilitarized zone to Pusan to visit our military bases. Meeting after meeting we talked to our servicemen, looked into their faces, shook their hands, and listened to their comments about their homes, their loved ones, and their home wards. Increasingly I began to feel some of the loneliness in their hearts. As I asked, “Are you hearing from your elders quorum? Does your family write often and encourage you to live the principles of the gospel?” the disappointment on their faces—and sometimes a cynical smile—gave me my answer. To the question “Does your bishop know you are here?” the reply was, “I don’t even think he cares. He is too busy to be concerned about me.” Of all those who attended our meetings—can you imagine—only one said he knew his ward leaders did care.
As we drove from base to base, a kaleidoscope of these disappointed faces kept crossing my mind. “Feed the flock of God which is among you,” Peter admonished. (1 Pet. 5:2.) A clear impression came to me that I was witnessing a needless neglect and that I must tell this story. This lack of interest at home for these young men is not the Lord’s plan, not the way he has taught us. Many of us are not responding to the Church direction, not responding to our charge to “[teach] them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” (Matt. 28:20.) This responsibility to teach and to encourage does not cease because they are out of sight; in fact, our interest must be intensified. Our concern is not for the career military Church member who, with his family, adds great strength to local Church units, but for the young men—mostly single, lonely, exposed to the evil enticements and temptations that can be part of military life.
There is a growing number without benefit of a mission or college disappearing into the military. The Selective Service has been discontinued. However, the armed forces are successful in recruiting. Your stake reports indicate we now have more in the military than in the mission field. Nearly 20,000 of your sons—and some daughters—are in the military service. President Kimball is asking for more full-time missionaries. Why shouldn’t parents, bishops, and elders presidents treat these 20,000 in the military as missionaries? You know they are—whether for good or not. You are their Church leaders and should be continually encouraging them. What a glorious opportunity. But you might say, “Oh, there is a difference!” Do you recall a modern prophet saying, “Every member a missionary”? Shouldn’t you give your son in the military this same attention? You have the obligation. Many thrilling missionary stories have involved our men in the military. At a base in Thailand, out of 18 members at our meeting, 11 had recently joined the Church, and two had converted their wives back home. These stories go on and on. Unfortunately, there are two sides.
A chaplain reported: “There is a universal absence of mail from home—from parents, from priesthood leaders. Parents, particularly of inactive young people, do not keep in touch with their sons or daughters.” The chaplain continued, “Nobody seems to care but the Latter-day Saint chaplains and the prostitutes, and, sir, that makes competition pretty tough.”
A number of Latter-day Saint girls are joining the military. Bishops, counsel our young women concerning the grave dangers and pitfalls because of the lack of moral guidance. A Latter-day Saint chaplain responsible for women on a large base said: “They are painfully alone, many struggling with repentance versus the world and desperately needing to feel support from parents and the Church. Otherwise, they find understanding elsewhere.”
Many of the single men are floundering on the cutting edge of sin. They are saying, “Please help me.” There is no hometown moral support that goes unappreciated.
How important is a letter? At a testimony meeting far from home, a young man said: “The devil had me convinced that I was a forgotten soul. Why not sin a little? Then a letter from Mom, one from my bishop, and a letter from our ward’s executive secretary finally caught up with me—one, two, three. I’d prayed for reassurance, but never had I felt such a sense of being important! Three letters to prove it. All in one mail call! I thank God for those few who care.”
Just to know that someone cares is sometimes enough to turn the tide. All too often young people enter military service because they feel unwanted or unloved, and they can become completely demoralized in this new environment when there is little or no encouragement to hold high the standards and goals of their lives. One bishop writing to a young man admitted, “While praying for our servicemen, I suddenly realized my prayers were useless without some action.” Then, in a letter, he expressed his love for this boy and asked, “How can I help you?” The young serviceman, with tears, said, “My bishop cares.”
A Latter-day Saint chaplain, whose office was near the mailroom, reported, “Daily, brokenhearted men and boys poured out their sorrow to me after they had looked again and again in their empty mailboxes. Some, in the depths of their hurt, swore they would never write another letter, and some of them, I’m sad to report, kept that unwise threat and watched their family ties disintegrate. Others would say that ‘no mail’ was proof of ‘no love or concern’ and that they were therefore justified in seeking affection from professional lovers. The old saying ‘We live or die at the mailroom’ never was truer than in the military.”
Another serviceman said, “During my 13 months in Southeast Asia, I heard from my sweetheart every day. During her busy days caring for our five children and attending school, she completed every day by writing me a letter. Think of it! Almost 400 days without a single miss!”
One of your sons, who had received a tape from home, wrote, “I was holding my one-man sacrament meeting as usual—out under a tree—listening to Church tapes. Bruce R. McConkie’s voice was never this interesting back home. I’ve played him 50 times.”
We challenge parents, home teachers, elders quorum presidents, and bishops that from today you show your concern for these young people. Flood them with affection, letters, tapes, cards, packages, birthday and holiday greetings of all types. Give your Young Adults, teenagers, and others in your ward a stimulating project. Sixteen-year-old Debbie Trujillo wrote a serviceman, “Hi. My name is Debbie Trujillo, and I’ve just been baptized in the Church. I don’t know much about you, but our class is doing this project, and I think it’s neat.” The serviceman said, “I hope my reply can be as sweet and uplifting as her letter.”
The Church can be proud of our chaplains, who bring hope and goodness to men of all faiths. After one of our chaplains had helped a member change his life, the man brought to the chaplain’s office a hand-sculptured model of a sheep and said that he felt as if he had been the one sheep for which we had left the ninety-and-nine. The chaplain writes, “I keep this little sheep on my desk as a reminder that in the military when we leave the 99, we always find more than one.”
The Savior’s analogy of the lost sheep vividly portrays the concern he has for all, but especially those that might stray. The Savior’s mission is to try to save all. The shepherd leaves the ninety-and-nine pastured safely and goes into the mountains to seek that one that has strayed. “When he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.” (Luke 15:5–6.) Can’t you somehow feel the Savior’s concern to account for everyone.
He follows this parable with a similar one, “the Lost Coin.” Whereas the sheep had strayed—wandered away—the coin, as the result of carelessness on the part of the woman, is dropped and lost. She sweeps previously unswept corners, even lights a candle. By her diligence it is recovered. “And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost. Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one … that repenteth.” (Luke 15:9–10.)
Members of your family can be part of a real “lost battalion” in urgent need of our help. They hunger for what only you can give them. When you don’t supply it, they accept some devastating substitutes.
I pray that as you close the drapes on each day, you will rest peacefully knowing, “The wind still whips the leaves, but the roots are down.” In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

When I was 16 years old, I traveled from my home in Idaho to a conference on the East Coast of the United States, attended by young men and young women from all 50 states and nearly 40 nations. Before then, I had rarely been in a situation where my beliefs and convictions set me apart.
One evening in an informal group setting, a discussion arose about some of the beliefs and practices of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A large group of students suddenly turned their attention to me and started asking questions, some of which were critical of our beliefs.
That caught me off guard. But after I had reflected for a moment, I began sharing some basic gospel principles. I explained that we have a Heavenly Father, that we are His sons and daughters, and that we are on earth to develop faith in Jesus Christ and to prove ourselves by choosing good over evil.
Sharing these principles led me to Joseph Smith’s testimony. The other students had not asked about Joseph Smith, but I found myself going to the origins of why I believed what I believed. As I told of the appearance of the Father and the Son in the Sacred Grove, suddenly everyone fell silent. A piercing feeling of holiness entered the room, and an enormous feeling of spiritual power rested upon me and my words.
Afterward, several students thanked me for my strong convictions. Some even asked for more information about the Church. As I returned to my room that night, I realized that the person this experience had the greatest impact on was me. I had felt for myself the power of bearing testimony of God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the First Vision.
Since that experience more than 50 years ago, I have testified hundreds of times of the Father, the Son, and the Prophet Joseph Smith. In these experiences, I have constantly felt the confirming witness of the Holy Ghost.

Few newlyweds honeymoon by camping out in the cold for two winter months. But the 18-year-old bride, Emily Abbott, and her new husband, Edward Bunker, had little choice. Right after John Taylor, then an Apostle, sealed them together as man and wife in Nauvoo, they fled west with hundreds of other Saints over frozen Mississippi River ice late in February 1846. As refugees, they camped in mud and snow day after day on their slow journey across Iowa.
At Garden Grove, Iowa, Edward managed to build a crude one-room log cabin. But its lack of windows or doors and its dirt floor certainly provided his new bride with much less than she was accustomed to. Emily, he well knew, had grown up with nice things. Her childhood home in Dansville, New York, was a prosperous home thanks to her father’s good income from a woolen mill he owned. Her parents sent her to a fine grammar school in the area.
When Emily was about ten, the family moved west to develop a 40-acre stretch of Illinois land. There they converted to Mormonism and soon moved to Nauvoo. Then in 1843 Emily’s father died, and to help provide for her mother and the five other children, teenage Emily found work in nearby homes. Hour after painstaking hour her tailoring work turned her into a fine seamstress. It was while tailoring that she met and then married Edward.
Life was not easy in their Garden Grove cabin community, so Edward ranged many miles distant to find odd jobs. He managed to bring home a little corn one time, some bacon another time. When he heard that the United States army wanted volunteers for the Mormon Battalion, he enlisted, hoping his army salary would pay for Emily’s trip west.
Off her new husband went, leaving Emily and her mother’s family to care for themselves until he returned. Within the year, by January 1847, poverty would teach the young wife a lasting lesson about pride.
Emily, an expert with needle and cloth, sometimes felt superior to those not dressed as well as she. One day she saw a young baby dressed in some glazed curtain material—bright shawl-type flower figures on a deep blue background. Curtain materials for a baby dress! She severely criticized the mother for not being able to provide better and vowed out loud: “I would not clothe my child in a dress like that, even if I could have it for nothing.”
But that January, when Emily gave birth to her own first baby, she had nothing to clothe him in. No one in the camp had anything she could buy to sew into baby clothes. No one, that is, except the poor mother she had criticized. The mother kindly said to her: “I have yet a few yards of the same material from which I made my baby’s dress. You are welcome to it.” Emily, swallowing her pride, accepted the curtain material and offered to pay for it. “No, I don’t want you to pay me for it,” the giver said. “I hope you need it so much that you’ll not shed tears over it and blame the Lord because you have no better.”
Emily did not complain about the curtain-cloth dress she made for her son. For a long time it was the only clothing the baby boy had.
When husband Edward returned from battalion duty after an 18-month absence, he got acquainted for the first time with his 11-month-old son. (But records do not tell us what the baby boy wore to meet his soldier-father.)
Years later, as the mother of 11 children, Emily often told the story of the curtain dress to her children to help them accept situations when money and earthly goods were lacking.

A Dog Came, Too “Our Dog” traveled across the American continent in 1793 with explorer Alexander Mackenzie. Not a pet, Our Dog retrieved game, guarded the explorers at night, and warned them of bears, wolves, even a two-footed intruder! There wasn’t room for him in the canoes, so he ran along the shore, through forests, and over rocky ground, often miserable from bugs, sore feet, fatigue, and hunger.Ainslie Manson6–10 years

I’m not even a Mormon, and yet I look forward to and enjoy my monthly edition of the New Era. Your magazine helps me to see and reinforce values, standards, and morals that I never learned in my years of growing up as an orphan. My good friends the Wilsons, who live on a beautiful little ranch in John Day, Oregon, were kind enough to give me a subscription to the New Era and also show me the wealth of a strong family unit in a society where everyone is struggling for an identity. Before I met the Wilsons, I had a very stereotyped misconception of Mormon people. But the Wilsons showed me with their generosity, care, and sincerity what wonderful people Mormons are, and my monthly edition of the New Era only helps to enhance these impressions.
Yvonne Mary PepinJohn Day, Oregon

Four years ago I spoke in this setting about couples serving full-time missions. My prayer was that “the Holy Ghost [would] touch hearts, and somewhere a spouse … [would] quietly nudge his or her companion, and a moment of truth [—a moment of decision—would] occur.” One sister later wrote me about that experience. She said, “We were sitting in the comfort of our family room enjoying conference on television. … As you spoke, my heart was touched so deeply. I looked over at my husband, and he looked at me. That moment changed my life forever.”
If you are or will soon be the age of a senior missionary, I come to you this afternoon to witness of the blessings that can change your life forever. Your Heavenly Father needs you. His work, under the direction of our Savior Jesus Christ, needs what you are uniquely prepared to give. Every missionary experience requires faith, sacrifice, and service, and these are always followed by an outpouring of blessings.
As we discuss these blessings, you will naturally consider what I have called the four F’s: fear, family concerns, finding the right mission opportunity, and financial challenges. May I yet add another more important and powerful F—faith. Only through our faith can we heed God’s counsel to “choose ye this day, whom ye will serve”—“to serve the Lord God who made you.” And only through a trial of our faith can we receive the miraculous blessings we seek for ourselves and our families. “For if there be no faith among the children of men God can do no miracle among them; wherefore, he showed not himself until after their faith.”
Allow me to share some of the miraculous blessings from letters and accounts I have received over the past four years. A humble couple from Idaho met fear with faith when the Lord called them to Russia. They wrote the following acceptance letter: “No one would have imagined we would be called to this assignment. We have no idea how we will learn the language or manage to be of service, and although we accept with much trepidation, going completely on faith, we know that the Lord and His prophet know more than we do where we should serve.” Ten months later the Stockholm Sweden Temple welcomed 30 Saints from a small branch in Russia led by this couple from Idaho who had barely begun to learn the Russian language. The scriptures tell us, “God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles.” Thus, God’s work is carried out by His children, “that faith also might increase in the earth, … that the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world.”
Another couple faced family concerns with faith. A faithful sister wrote: “The decision to serve a mission was not hard. But my 90-year-old mother was extremely apprehensive about our leaving. She took great comfort when she heard that our families would be blessed as we serve.” A faithful brother expressed similar concerns about leaving his elderly parents, to which his father responded, “Don’t use your mother and me as an excuse not to go on a mission with your wife. You pray about it and follow the guidance of the Spirit.”
To an earlier generation of missionaries called to leave their families, the Lord offered this reassurance: “And if they will do this in all lowliness of heart, … I, the Lord, give unto them a promise that I will provide for their families.”
Certainly family concerns are real and should not be considered lightly. But we cannot meet our family challenges without the blessings of the Lord; and when we sacrifice to serve as full-time missionary couples, those blessings will flow. For example, one couple worried about leaving their youngest daughter, who was no longer active in the Church. Her faithful father wrote: “We prayed for her continually and fasted regularly. Then, during general conference, the Spirit whispered to me, ‘If you will serve, you will not have to worry about your daughter anymore.’ So we met with our bishop. The week after we received our call, she and her boyfriend announced they were engaged. Before we left for Africa, we had a wedding in our home. [Then we gathered our family together and] held a family council. … I bore testimony of the Lord and Joseph Smith … and told them I would like to give each of them a father’s blessing. I started with the oldest son and then his wife and proceeded to the youngest … [including our new son-in-law].”
As we consider couple missionary service, it is appropriate to involve our families in the same way. In family council meetings, we can give our children the opportunity to express their support, offer special assistance we may need, and receive priesthood blessings to sustain them in our absence. Where appropriate, we may be able to receive priesthood blessings from them as well. As the faithful father in this story blessed his family members, his son-in-law felt the influence of the Holy Ghost. The father wrote: “By the end of our first year [the] heart [of our son-in-law] began to soften toward the Church. Just before we returned home from our mission, he and our daughter came to visit us. In his suitcase was the first set of Sunday clothes he had ever owned. They came to church with us, and after we returned home he was baptized. A year later they were sealed in the temple.”
Though the details of this story may be unique, the principle is true for all who say to the Lord, “I’ll go where you want me to go.” I testify that as we put our trust in the Lord, He will find the right missionary opportunity for us. As He said, “If any man serve me, him will my Father honour.”
In considering missionary opportunities, many couples throughout the world have an abundant desire to serve but lack abundant means. If this is your situation, remember that the right mission call may not be to a far-off country with a strange-sounding name. The right call for you may be within your stake or area. “Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” Counsel with your extended family and your bishop or branch president. As the Lord’s servants understand your temporal situation, you will be able to receive the eternal blessings of full-time missionary service.
If you cannot serve because of serious extenuating circumstances, would you consider making a financial contribution to help those who can? The reasonable sacrifice of your means will not only bless other missionaries and those they serve; it will bless you and your family as well.
Now, to those who were not able to serve a mission in their youth, may I speak directly to you. Perhaps over the years you have been burdened by feelings of regret or felt less than adequate because you did not have a missionary opportunity to serve and grow when you were younger. My advice to you: look forward, not back. Begin preparing for your mission as a senior missionary couple today! Save a little money each month. Study the scriptures. Accept Church callings. Pray to feel the Lord’s love for others and receive His love and confidence in you. You can one day claim all the blessings of missionary service!
And what marvelous blessings they are! After 51 years of marriage, I was asked, “What part of life would you want to live over again?” I did not hesitate to reply, “When my wife and I served together in the great missionary work of the Lord.” The sentiments of another missionary couple echo those of my wife and myself: “Our decision to go on a mission brought new vigor, new emotions, new friends, new places, new challenges. It brought us closer together as husband and wife; we had a common goal and a real partnership. And best of all, it brought new spiritual growth instead of spiritual retirement.” Brothers and sisters, let us not go into spiritual retirement.
Now, may I extend a challenge to bishops and branch presidents throughout the world? Over the next six months, would it be possible for each of you to consider recommending one or more missionary couples beyond those presently planning to serve? Your greatest resource in meeting this challenge will be those senior members of your ward who have already served missions. In my own ward an inspired bishop called a special meeting of prospective and returned missionary couples. As we bore our testimonies of sacrifice and service, the Spirit witnessed to us all that a call to serve is indeed a call to “know the richness of [the Lord’s] blessing[s].”

Lisa’s ‘Helping Hand’
Ward member Sister Lisa Howe and her husband, Wes, have been a regular driving force behind the Christmas-day meals provided at the Telford chapel for the homeless and vulnerable in the borough, working in conjunction with local businesses, who reduce the cost of the food and other goods they provided. Between 120-150 meals are provided every year. Before Christmas 2020 this has been a combination of sit-in and home-delivered meals. Bishop Pointer says, “We work in partnership with the local charity KiP@Maninplace, which identifies the homeless who require a delivered hot meal. We also work with the local council and other local organisations to identify lonely and vulnerable residents, and we extend an invitation to them for somewhere warm to sit, enjoy the company of others, and have a hot Christmas day meal.”
However, there is a twist to this Christmas tale—Sister Howes only has the proper use of one arm. In September and October 2020, as a gift for Lisa, her family raised funds to have a mechanical left arm fitted. Bishop Pointer says, “Lisa’s family want to help her get a bionic arm and ward members wanted to assist as Lisa has blessed so many lives within the ward (and beyond). Church members have contributed over £4,000 through a multitude of activities within their families, and circles of friends, including car boot sales. By the end of December 2020, the £15,000 target was met, and Lisa is already going through the process of getting that bionic arm.”

Let me tell you of one last example of another young man. We’ll call him John. John became quite ill as he was serving his mission in a distant land. He had such serious digestive problems that his mission president was considering sending him home. Then one day while he was out walking, he felt a pain in his foot so severe that he couldn’t even walk to the discussion he and his companion had scheduled.
The doctor decided that John had arthritis caused by the damp weather and suggested he stay off his foot for a few days.
The young missionary did so. He also had a priesthood blessing, but nothing happened. John was a district mission leader at the time, and his district missionaries had just begun to baptize in a city where there had not been baptisms for some time. He could not understand how the Lord could allow him to waste such valuable time when his district was just beginning to have success.
A week went by, two weeks, three weeks, a month with no improvement. Finally he was taken to the capital city, where there were better medical facilities. An X-ray revealed that a bone in his foot had been fractured and then grown back together incorrectly. The doctors tried giving him special electrical treatments that were supposed to fuse the bone correctly, but the treatments didn’t help. This problem, along with his other medical problems had him somewhat discouraged. Again, the consideration came to send him home.
One morning, after nearly three months, he stepped out of bed to find absolutely no pain in his foot. He stepped on the foot gently, then stamped on it, then ran with his companion for a kilometer, totally healed. With great joy he returned immediately to the mission district to work.
Two more weeks went by. Then a letter arrived from home. “Dear son,” it began, and then followed a paragraph or two of chastisement for not having told his family about his ailments. They had learned of his problems from another missionary, a friend of his, who had written home. In great love they wrote, “As a family, we have begun a fast and constant prayer for you. We have also placed your name on the temple prayer list and hope that it might be of help to you.”
As he tearfully read the letter and examined his journal, he found that the day that he had arisen from his bed healed was the same day the letter had been written, the very day his family began praying and exercising faith for their distant son.
How could that be across some eleven thousand kilometers? I suppose no one knows, but the reality of the power of faith cannot be denied. In the face of all opposition, trust in the Lord. Even if the opposition continues almost beyond endurance, continue to trust in the Lord.

Quite often my mom and I sat up late at night talking about anything and everything. Right before I left for boot camp, we were having one of those late-night talks. We discussed how important it was that I keep my standards high and not give in to some of the temptations I might face. She asked me right then if I would promise her that I would not pick up swearing while at boot camp. I made her that promise, even though I knew it might be hard to keep because of the environment I would be in.
On June 12, I arrived at the San Diego, California, Marine Corps recruit depot. Right from the start, any identity we had was taken away. We all wore the same uniforms, wore the same brown horn-rimmed glasses, and had the same haircut, which was no hair! We were not allowed to refer to ourselves as “I” or “me.” We were to say “this recruit” when speaking about ourselves.
We got about five hours of sleep a night. We were on the go 19 hours a day. Part of the time we were in classes. Other times we were running or learning to march, and the rest of the time we were in the field learning things like martial arts, takedowns, and bayonet training. I had three drill instructors and one senior drill instructor, who was as big as a horse. His neck and biceps were the size of tree trunks.
One day my platoon of 83 recruits was in the field doing a drill. One recruit, who was the “enemy,” tried to take our rifles away. We had to fight to prevent him from getting it. Once we had control of our rifle, we were told to point it at the enemy and yell, “Get down, _____!” calling him a profane name.
As I stood there in line waiting for my turn and watching one recruit after another do the drill, I thought about the promise I had made to my mom. It would be easy to give in just this once and talk like a “real” marine. But I knew it would be wrong. I had made a promise, and now I was being put to the test. It was finally my turn. I fought the enemy, got control of my rifle, pointed it at him, and yelled, “Get down!”
My drill instructors stopped the drill and yelled at me to do it again the right way and say what they told me to say. I did the drill again, pointed the rifle at the other recruit, and yelled, “Get down!” Suddenly I had two drill instructors in my face, yelling and screaming at me. My senior drill instructor came over and stood half an inch from my face and yelled at me to obey the order I was given and do the drill the way I was ordered to do it.
It was now crunch time. Do I give in or stand up for what I know is right and keep the promise? I stood at attention and said, “This recruit does not swear, sir!” Everyone went silent.
There was not a sound as all eyes went back and forth between me and my four drill instructors. I didn’t know what would happen to me next. I wondered if I’d be harassed by all the recruits or commanded to do 5,000 push-ups. Finally my senior drill instructor burst out laughing. Everyone else started laughing as well. The drill instructors began joking with me and coming up with other words that I could say instead. I didn’t get in any trouble for keeping my promise. When it was all over, I felt relieved and thankful that I had done the right thing.

Every year I get a box of candy hearts and some money in the mail from my great-grandparents, Oma and Opa (grandmother and grandfather). This year I decided that I should be the one to send candy. So I sent Oma and Opa a card, a letter, and a box of candy hearts. I told my mom that I wished we lived closer to Oma and Opa so I could read to them since Oma is legally blind. I think the Spirit encouraged me to send that letter because the Spirit encourages us to do good.