Gospel Story Finder

“Sister Olsen, we bless you with patience.” Those weren’t the words I wanted to hear. I had been praying all day to have enough faith to be healed. In the blessing, I was promised that I’d eventually get better, but I was assured that it would take time.
I sighed as the elders finished giving me a blessing. I had only three months left on my mission, and I wanted to be out with the people—not sick in bed. I wanted to accept the Lord’s will, but I honestly didn’t understand why He would make me wait.
It took me several days to come to terms with my situation. I had resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to get better right away, but in the meantime I was miserable—until one day I turned to the scriptures. Eventually, I found the peace I needed in James 1. Joseph Smith found his answer in verse 5—mine was in verses 2–4:
“My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations [the Joseph Smith Translation changes “divers temptations” to “many afflictions”];
“Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
“But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”
As I read those verses, I can’t say that I was suddenly able to “count it all joy” that I was sick, but I did learn some things that helped me feel less miserable about my situation.
The fact that I hadn’t been immediately healed didn’t mean that I didn’t have faith, and it didn’t mean the Lord didn’t care about my situation—quite the opposite, actually. The Lord cared enough to test my faith by not healing me right away so that I could develop patience.
I realized that the Lord wanted me to develop patience because it’s a vital characteristic. Patience refines us. Patience helps us become more like the Savior. I did have important responsibilities as a full-time missionary, but I realized that when it comes to serving the Lord, He cares just as much about the instrument as He does the task at hand. The Lord was teaching me patience so that I could be a better and more effective missionary in those final months of my mission.
My promised blessing of healing did eventually come, but my lesson in patience didn’t end there. Many blessings in our lives—marriage, employment, children, physical or emotional health, answers to prayers—don’t come right when we expect them to. When you experience delayed answers to prayers, and you likely have or will, commit to patience by trusting in the Lord and His timing. It will bless your life.

That lesson has never left me. Indeed, years ago I relearned its meaning and partook of its power. My teacher was the Lord. May I share with you this experience.
Far away from Salt Lake City, and some 130 kilometers from Shreveport, Louisiana, lived the Jack Methvin family. Mother, Dad, and the children are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. There was a lovely daughter who, by her presence, graced that home. Her name was Christal. She was but 10 years old when death ended her earthly sojourn.
Christal liked to run and play on the spacious ranch where her family lived. She could ride horses skillfully and excelled in 4-H work, winning awards in the local and state fairs. Her future was bright, and life was wonderful. Then there was discovered on her leg an unusual lump. The specialists in New Orleans completed their diagnosis and rendered their verdict: carcinoma. The leg must be removed.
Christal recovered well from the surgery, lived as buoyantly as ever, and never complained. Then the doctors discovered that the cancer had spread to her tiny lungs.
Christal’s condition deteriorated. The end drew nigh. But her faith did not waver. She knew that stake conference was approaching. To her parents she said, “Do you think whoever is assigned to our stake conference could give me a blessing?”
Meanwhile in Salt Lake City, with no knowledge of the events transpiring in Shreveport, an unusual situation developed. For the weekend of the Shreveport Louisiana Stake conference, I had been assigned to El Paso, Texas. President Ezra Taft Benson, who was then President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, called me to his office and explained that one of the other Brethren had done some preparatory work regarding the stake division in El Paso. He asked if I would mind were another to be assigned to El Paso and I assigned elsewhere. Of course there was no problem; anywhere would be fine with me. Then President Benson said, “Brother Monson, I feel impressed to have you visit the Shreveport Louisiana Stake.”
The assignment was accepted. The day came. I arrived in Shreveport.
That Saturday afternoon was filled with meetings: one with the stake presidency, one with priesthood leaders, one with the patriarch, then yet another with the general leadership of the stake. Rather apologetically, stake president Charles F. Cagle asked if my schedule would permit me time to provide a blessing to a 10-year-old girl afflicted with cancer. Her name: Christal Methvin. I responded that, if possible, I would do so, and then inquired if she would be at the conference, or was she in a Shreveport hospital. Knowing the time was tightly scheduled, President Cagle almost whispered that Christal was confined to her home many kilometers from Shreveport.
I examined the schedule of meetings for that evening and the next morning, even my return flight. There simply was no available time. An alternative suggestion came to mind. Could we not remember the little one in our prayers at conference? Surely the Lord would understand. On this basis we proceeded with the scheduled meetings.
When the word was communicated to the Methvin family, there was understanding but disappointment as well. They prayed fervently, asking for a final favor—that their precious Christal would realize her desire.
At the very moment the Methvin family knelt in prayer, the clock in the stake center showed the time to be 7:45 P.M. The Saturday leadership meeting had been inspirational. I was sorting my notes, preparing to step to the pulpit, when I heard a voice speak to my spirit. The message was brief, the words familiar: “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” My notes became a blur. My thoughts turned to a tiny girl who desired a blessing. The decision was made, the meeting schedule altered. After all, people are more important than meetings. I turned to Bishop James Serra and asked that he leave the meeting and advise the Methvins.
The Methvin family had just arisen from their knees when the telephone rang and the message was relayed. They were informed that early on Sunday morning—the Lord’s day—in a spirit of fasting and prayer, we would journey to Christal’s bedside.
I shall ever remember and never forget that early-morning journey to a heaven the Methvin family called home. I have been in hallowed places—even holy houses—but never have I felt more strongly the presence of the Lord than in the Methvin home. Christal looked so tiny, lying peacefully on such a large bed. The room was bright and cheerful. The sunshine from the east window filled the bedroom with light as the Lord filled our hearts with love.
The family surrounded Christal’s bedside. I gazed down at a child who was too ill to rise—almost too weak to speak. Her illness had now rendered her sightless. So strong was the Spirit that I fell to my knees, took her frail hand in mine, and said simply, “Christal, I am here.” She parted her lips and whispered, “Brother Monson, I just knew you would come.” I looked around the room. No one was standing. Each was on bended knee. A blessing was given. A faint smile crossed Christal’s face. Her whispered “thank you” provided an appropriate benediction. Quietly, each filed from the room.
Four days later, on Thursday, as Church members in Shreveport joined their faith with the Methvin family and Christal’s name was remembered in a special prayer to a kind and loving Heavenly Father, the pure spirit of Christal Methvin left its disease-ravaged body and entered the paradise of God.

We are here to help ourselves and others make it home. I am thankful for all the people on this earth and on the other side of the veil that has helped me not give up. They are the ones that when I asked for help instead of giving me a pity party would cheer me on. On one occasion I was going through a tough time. To this day I cannot even remember what that challenge was but I have never forgot her words to me. She said, "Euleza, I see you looking at yourself from what may seem to you to be a deep, deep hole. As you stand there at the bottom of that hole I see your hand reaching up. You want so badly to be pulled up to where you know you need to be; where you can feel safety and peace. But I also see you at the top of that deep hole, Euleza. You are reaching down to grab your own hand and pull yourself up." Then my friend added, "Grab on Euleza. Grab on and pull yourself up. You know where you want to be, and where you should be, you know it! Let yourself be rescued."

Lori:
We have a lot of members and very strong wards around a place called “Trash Mountain,” which is an open dump where people live. Members there are pickers and collectors. They make their money off of recycling plastic and aluminum that they get out of the dump. They live in teeny little houses that we have been to dozens of times.
Bob:
One day we could hear music blaring, and we noticed a tent was being set up. In Cambodia, that either means somebody is getting married or somebody has died.
Lori:
We found out that a mother of five or six kids had just died. There was no husband to speak of. The children just woke up and realized their mom was dead.
One daughter was just sobbing. Through a translator, she said, “I’m the oldest. I’ve got all these siblings. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
I just scooped her up in my arms. How could I not? This girl just lost her mother. I spoke to her in English and said, “I know you don’t understand me, but I promise you will see your mother again. You are going to be OK. You are not going to be left alone.”
So many experiences like this have given us a special connection with the people of Cambodia.

There have been times in my life that I have hidden my light under a bushel. When I was in high school, I played on the basketball team which was made up primarily of members of the Church. I remember overhearing a couple of teammates trying to recall the name of someone mentioned in the scriptures. They began to ask other teammates for help. They eventually asked me, and a comment was made that I would know the answer because my dad was a bishop. At that moment, the name popped into my mind but before I could give them the answer, the thought that knowing the answer would make me seem uncool overwhelmed me,
so I hid my light and claimed I didn’t know the name. I know my teammates wouldn’t have judged me that way, but Satan was able to make me feel ashamed in that moment. Shortly after that experience, I was preparing to serve a mission and I wondered if I would be able to rise to the occasion as a full-time representative of the Lord. As I was studying the scriptures, I read Doctrine and Covenants 50:24, “That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light growth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.”

Through this scripture, I received an answer from the Lord to one of my questions. If I continued to follow God, I would receive more and more light which would strengthen my testimony and resolve to be a witness and servant of the Lord.

A young woman with whom I am acquainted was planning to be married. Sound familiar? Her parents were overjoyed. “At last,” they said. She was twenty-six years old. She had been very choosey. The whole family rejoiced when she found someone she could agree to marry. The date was set; the invitations were printed; the wedding dress was selected; and the trousseau was ready. Then one evening this young woman sought out her parents. She was very sorry to disappoint them, but she just couldn’t go through with it. She could not marry this man.

Her parents were shocked. “Why?” they asked. “You have so much in common. You enjoy being together. You are perfect for each other. You’re in love. And you’re twenty-six years old!” Then she explained her feelings to her parents. This man did not honor his mother. The girl had been bothered for a long time by the way he spoke to his mother, by the disrespect he showed her, by his discourtesy. She could not marry this man because some day he might treat her the same way.

The author being baptized by Thomas Salisbury in Sông Bé Lake, Vietnam.
Photograph courtesy of the author
I enlisted in the United States Army for a three-year term and arrived in South Vietnam on my 20th birthday. After eight months, I was assigned to a unit northwest of Saigon. While there, I quickly observed that one of my tentmates, Thomas Salisbury, was different from everyone else.
The difference was so striking that I eventually asked him, “Tom, why are you so different from everyone else?”
“Because I’m a Latter-day Saint,” he replied.
“What is a Latter-day Saint?” I asked.
He arranged for me to meet with him and Harold Lewis, a returned missionary who was serving as an assistant to the unit chaplain. During our first meeting in a tent that served as a small chapel, I agreed that if I really believed what they were telling me, I would be baptized. I also received a copy of the Book of Mormon, which I kept in the lower pocket of my cargo pants and read whenever I had downtime.
Several discussions followed, and I found that each lesson answered questions I had had in my search for truth. But when Tom and Harold asked me if I wanted to be baptized, I said no. I didn’t know how I could keep all the commandments they had taught me.
After attending a district conference in Saigon, I went to Australia for a week of rest and relaxation. While there, I started to realize how important the teachings of the gospel had become to me. Upon my return to Vietnam, I immediately announced to Tom that I wished to be baptized.
Soon after, Tom baptized me in Sông Bé Lake, Harold confirmed me a member of the Church, and Timothy Hill, our Church group leader, ordained me a deacon.
When I returned home to the United States six weeks later, I introduced the gospel to my girlfriend, who became my wife. She also embraced the gospel’s hopeful message.
I will be forever grateful that Tom asked me if I wanted to know more. His example and invitation answered my longing to find the truth and enjoy the blessings of the gospel.

The stake coordinated days and times with the temple presidency so the youth could do baptisms and confirmations during a three-day school break. Baptisms were scheduled among the wards so they went nonstop all day and into the evening. At one point the boiler in the temple broke down and the water in the font was getting cold. The temple president considered postponing the baptisms, but the young men and women wanted to keep going. After offering a prayer, they kept doing baptisms, and the boiler was fixed about six hours later.

In my life, there have been a multitude of times that the Lord has prepared ways for me to accomplish the things He has inspired me to do. The one that I would like to share with you today is how the Lord guided me to become a math teacher. It started with a tender mercy given me when I was a senior in high school. Through an unusual confluence of circumstances I was given the opportunity to teach an algebra class for six weeks while the regular teacher recovered from surgery. I was pretty stressed out as I prepared for the first class period, and very nervous as I walked in the door to the classroom. The students had been warned what was coming, but still were very kind to me. They were not quite sure about having a fellow student be their teacher, but we became good friends and accomplished all of the learning objectives for the class over our weeks together. At the end of each class, I was exhausted and wondered how I would make it through the rest of the day. I had no idea the work involved in teaching, but as I continued, I came to love the experience working with the students.

Even though I loved being a teacher, I knew how much school teachers made. I was much more interested in money than in fulfillment. My priests quorum advisor was a computer scientist and told me that if I majored in computer science and math, I could make a lot of money. So, I started at BYU, declaring myself as a computer science major.

I went to a year at BYU before serving my mission, and I enjoyed my classes and did reasonably well in them. I was feeling good about my choice of major and the big house and nice cars I would have after I graduated. However, when I returned from my mission, I had not yet learned to go to the advising center to get help with choosing my classes, and I was absolutely terrified to go to a teacher and ask for advice. Ignorance and fear do not usually lead to wise decisions, and I chose very poorly. I was not prepared for the classes I enrolled in that first semester back from my mission. I failed one of my math classes and barely passed the rest.

That semester was an unhappy one for other reasons. Between missions, marriage, and internships, my close friends were no longer available to hang out with me. I did not make friends easily, so I spent the semester feeling very alone. I did not adjust well to the spiritual transition from mission life and quit my habits of frequent sincere prayer and gospel study. So I struggled spiritually. It was not a good semester.

Despite the fact that I would never want to relive that semester, the Lord used my difficulties to help guide me away from the path I had chosen and towards the path He was preparing for me. My experience was similar to how the recession in 2008 caused Brother Tanner, who spoke in devotional last week, to change from a thriving career as an artist to his current career as an educator. Like the challenges the recession caused Brother Tanner, my failures in my math and computer science classes made me reevaluate my choice of major. After consulting with advisors, parents, and teachers and a lot of prayer and fasting, I felt impressed to change from computer science to secondary education and pursue a career in teaching math.

I still had more math classes to struggle through, and student teaching was so stressful that I developed stomach problems, but I knew that I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do and I received many tender mercies—some of them truly miraculous—that made it so I could succeed in the career path He had revealed to me. I testify that when we follow the revelation we receive from the Lord, He does prepare a way for us to accomplish whatever He asks us to do.

I will now share the story of my struggle to read the scriptures every day.
In 1980, we again went through a tough time in business. Interest rates sky-rocketed to 22%. Sales went down. We were in trouble. But we accepted a request from our Stake President as a family to go to Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico for LDS Leadership training in Scouting. I debated whether we should leave the business at such a critical time. But we put the Lord first and went on faith. It was a great experience for all the family. But a significant thing happened to me during a small priesthood meeting that Sunday. A Stake President in his testimony told us of how he and his wife had made a commitment to read the scriptures every day as a couple and how that had changed their lives.

When he shared that testimony, I felt like Joseph Smith. Never did any story of scripture reading come with more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to mine.
I had been slack in my daily scripture reading. I had explained it away. I was too busy. I had too many responsibilities, I was still living a good life, on and on. But at that very moment, my life changed. I promised, I made a covenant with Heavenly Father that I would never again be slothful in daily scripture reading.
I repented. I kept my scriptures right on the light table next to my bed. I started reading them every night before my prayers. It didn't matter what time I got to bed. The spirit said, "don't neglect your scriptures." What a blessing that has been. Myreel will attest. I have been a better person, a better husband, a better father, and better servant of the Lord. Everything has gone better, because I made a covenant and have kept that covenant.

Permit me a personal story that illustrates the difference between the hard way of understanding the Constitution and the easy way out. The day after the Senate confirmed my nomination to the D.C. Circuit, I was the happy recipient of many congratulatory messages in my office in the Administration Building here on campus. One came from a friend who was a former law partner—a person whose experience I value. He had served as a law clerk first to a distinguished judge on the court I was about to join and later to a storied justice on the Supreme Court. My friend asked if he could give me some advice about being a judge. I was teachable and anxious to hear what he had to say.

“The first day of my clerkship on the D.C. Circuit,” he said, “my judge told me, ‘This is how we go about our work: First, we learn the facts of the case. Next, we think long and hard about the fair outcome, the equitable disposition, the just result. Then we go find law to support our conclusion.’ From what I have observed,” my friend continued, “that is how most judges go about their work, and rightly so.”

The purpose of the call was congratulatory. It was not an invitation to engage in a debate over the role of a federal judge under the Constitution, and so I simply thanked him for his words. But as I hung up the phone, I took a vow that I would never follow my friend’s advice.

So this is what I tell my law clerks their first day in chambers: We, the people, have elected representatives who make the laws that govern our society. When a federal judge is called upon to resolve a dispute, he must first understand the nature of the controversy (on this count my friend’s advice was sound), but then he must work to understand the meaning of the law that governs the disposition of the case. As Justice Felix Frankfurter put it, the judge is merely the “translator” of the law’s command.

Years ago my adventurous son Jeff and I found ourselves on an old bus bouncing along on a dirt road in Central America at 1:00 a.m. We took the early, early bus because it was the only bus that day. A half hour later, the driver stopped for two missionaries. When they got on, we asked them where in the world they were going so early. Zone conference! And they were determined to do whatever it took to get there. At 2:00 a.m. two more elders boarded the bus and enthusiastically hugged their fellow missionaries. This scene repeated itself every half hour as the bus climbed the remote mountain road. By 5:00 a.m. we had 16 of the Lord’s finest as fellow passengers and were basking in the Spirit they brought on board.
Suddenly we screeched to a halt. A massive mud slide had buried the road. Jeff said, “What do we do now, Dad?” Our friends Stan, Eric, and Allan had the same concern. Just then the zone leader shouted, “Let’s go, elders. Nothing is going to stop us!” And they scrambled off the bus! We looked at each other and said, “Follow the elders,” and we all sloshed through the mud slide, trying to keep up with the missionaries. There happened to be a truck on the other side, so we all hopped aboard. After a mile we were stopped by yet another mud slide. Once again the elders plowed through, with the rest of us close behind. But this time there was no truck. Boldly the zone leader said, “We will be where we are supposed to be even if we have to walk the rest of the way.” Years later, Jeff told me how those missionaries and this photo inspired and motivated him tremendously as he served the Lord in Argentina.
Although we overcame the mud slides, we were all spotted with mud. The missionaries were somewhat nervous about standing before their president on zone conference day when he and his wife would be carefully checking their appearance.
As you and I slosh through the mud slides of life, we can’t help getting a few mud spots on us along the way either. And we don’t want to stand before the Lord looking muddy.
When the Savior appeared in ancient America, He said, “Repent, all ye ends of the earth, and come unto me and be baptized in my name, that ye may be sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost, that ye may stand spotless before me at the last day” (3 Nephi 27:20).
Alma warns us about some of the ways we become spotted with mud: “For our words will condemn us, yea, all our works will condemn us; we shall not be found spotless; and our thoughts will also condemn us” (Alma 12:14).
Alma also said:
“Ye cannot be saved; for there can no man be saved except his garments are washed white; yea, his garments must be purified until they are cleansed from all stain. …
“… How will any of you feel, if ye shall stand before the bar of God, having your garments stained with blood and all manner of filthiness?” (Alma 5:21–22).
He also tells us about “all the holy prophets, whose garments are cleansed and are spotless, pure and white” (Alma 5:24).
He then asks us how we are doing as we cross through the mud slides of life: “Have ye walked, keeping yourselves blameless before God? Could ye say, if ye were called to die at this time, … that your garments have been cleansed and made white through the blood of Christ?” (Alma 5:27).
Because of repentance and the Atonement of Jesus Christ, our garments can be spotless, pure, fair, and white. Moroni pleads, “O then ye unbelieving, turn ye unto the Lord; cry mightily unto the Father in the name of Jesus, that perhaps ye may be found spotless, pure, fair, and white, having been cleansed by the blood of the Lamb, at that great and last day” (Mormon 9:6).
In 1 Samuel we read, “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; … for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).
The Nephites were looking on the outward appearance of the Lamanites, for Jacob declared, “Wherefore, a commandment I give unto you, which is the word of God, that ye revile no more against them because of the darkness of their skins” (Jacob 3:9).
Our Father knows and loves His children all over the world, from Boston to Okinawa, from San Antonio to Spain, from Italy to Costa Rica. In Ghana, President Gordon B. Hinckley recently thanked the Lord “for the brotherhood that exists among us, that neither color of skin nor land of birth can separate us as Thy sons and daughters” (Accra Ghana Temple dedicatory prayer, in “Brotherhood Exists,” Church News, Jan. 17, 2004, 11).
We invite men and women everywhere, whatever language or culture, to “come unto [Christ] and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; … [for] all are alike unto God” (2 Nephi 26:33).
We come to this world in many colors, shapes, sizes, and circumstances. We don’t have to be rich, tall, thin, brilliant, or beautiful to be saved in the kingdom of God—only pure. We need to be obedient to the Lord Jesus Christ and keep His commandments. And we can all choose to do that regardless of where we live or what we look like.
When the four sons of Mosiah taught the gospel to the wild, ferocious Lamanites, a mighty change of heart occurred:
“As many of the Lamanites as believed in their preaching, and were converted unto the Lord, never did fall away.
“For they became a righteous people; they did lay down the weapons of their rebellion, that they did not fight against God any more, neither against any of their brethren” (Alma 23:6–7).
Today many of their descendants are reading about this in their own copies of the Book of Mormon and are choosing to follow Christ. I love meeting the children of Lehi in spotless white in the numerous temples in the Mexico South Area, where I am currently serving. I feel as President Gordon B. Hinckley did at the dedication of the Guatemala City temple:
“Thou kind and gracious Father, our hearts swell with gratitude for thy remembrance of the sons and daughters of Lehi, the many generations of our fathers and mothers who suffered so greatly and who walked for so long in darkness. Thou hast heard their cries and seen their tears. Now there will be opened to them the gates of salvation and eternal life” (Guatemala City Guatemala Temple dedicatory prayer, in “Their Cries Heard, Their Tears Seen,” Church News, Dec. 23, 1984, 4).
I have seen humble descendants of Lehi come down from the mountains to that temple and openly weep as they stood there in awe. One gave me an abrazo and asked me to take that hug of love, appreciation, and brotherhood back to all those beloved missionaries who brought them the gospel and to all the Saints whose tithing faithfulness has brought temple blessings within reach. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can all stand spotless, pure, and white before the Lord.
With great gratitude I lift my voice with Nephi: “And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children [and our grandchildren] may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins” (2 Nephi 25:26).
My wife and I love this scripture so much that she painted it on a wall in our living room, below a beautiful white porcelain Christus. They are a constant reminder for us to live Christ-centered lives.
One day our son was reading the scriptures with his family. Our seven-year-old grandson Clatie read, “‘And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ’—Hey, that’s what Granny and Grandpa have on their wall!” Now that’s one of his favorite scriptures.
On another occasion we were at the visitors’ center on Temple Square with these same grandchildren. Two-year-old Ashley was tired and wanted to leave. Sister Mask asked her if she wanted to see a big Jesus like the one on our wall. She asked, “Is He as big as me?” “Even bigger,” Sister Mask replied. When that tiny, little girl looked up at the majestic Christus, she ran and stood at the feet and gazed up reverently for several minutes. When her father indicated it was time to go, she said, “No, no, Daddy. He loves me and wants to give me hugs!”
The road of life is strewn with spiritual mud slides. Whatever our sins and imperfections, may we attack them with the same missionary zeal that those elders attacked their mud slides. And may we thank our Father daily for sending us His Son, Jesus Christ, to forgive us our mud spots so that we may stand spotless before Him. Ashley was right. He does love us and will say to us at that great day, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant: … enter thou into the joy of thy lord” (Matthew 25:21).
I bear witness that He lives and He loves us. He is our Savior and our Redeemer. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Late in 1928 the family moved to Cardston, where Eldon again worked as school principal. To supplement their meager depression income, he sold insurance and custom-made suits, milked cows, raised chickens and a vegetable garden, and served on the town council. He also served in the Church as Scoutmaster, bishop’s counselor, and bishop of the Cardston First Ward.
While serving there as a second counselor he became a hero among the local youth with a piece of innovative leadership. It seems that few of the deacons were attending priesthood meeting. Concerned, Eldon went to each of them and found that they had only overalls to wear and were ashamed to come to meetings. He told them that if they would come to their priesthood meetings, he would attend in overalls too. They agreed, and deacons quorum attendance rose to almost 100 percent.

Lindi loved the map game—the whole class did. Right now, her classmate Jason was standing next to Ms. Werner, their teacher. He was staring at a big world map hanging on the wall. He had won three rounds already.
“Ashley,” called Ms. Werner. Ashley skipped up to the map, giggling. She’s going to lose, thought Lindi. She’s not paying attention to the map. Sure enough, almost before Ms. Werner could finish saying, “The Black Sea,” Jason’s finger poked the map, right on the Black Sea. Ashley shrugged her shoulders and skipped back to her seat.
“Jason rocks!” Matt yelled. Other kids started chanting, “Ja-son! Ja-son! Ja-son!”
Soon Jason had beaten two more challengers. Jason was on his way to becoming the Map Champ! Lindi thought she knew Jason’s secret to success: he never took his eyes off the map.
Then Ms. Werner called, “Lindi!”
Lindi stood up and walked toward the front of the class. Megan gave her a high five as she passed her desk. Lindi tried to forget about everything else as she stood next to Jason and scanned the map. Focus! she told herself. You can do this.
Jason and Lindi both stared at the map. Out of the corner of her eye, Lindi could see Ms. Werner open her mouth to say something. But just then, a bunch of kids started shouting.
“Ja-son! Ja-son!”
Jason’s finger shot out and hit the map. “I win!” he said.
Lindi’s mouth fell open. What had just happened? “I didn’t hear!” she said. She turned to Ms. Werner. “I really didn’t hear what you said.”
Ms. Werner looked at Lindi. Lindi looked at Ms. Werner. She wondered what Ms. Werner was thinking.
The chanting faded. “What’s going on?” someone asked
Megan spoke up. “Lindi didn’t hear. Everyone was making too much noise. It wasn’t fair.” This time Jason’s mouth dropped open.
“She just said that ’cause she doesn’t want to lose!” Matt said.
Lindi’s stomach felt tight and sort of queasy. It shouldn’t matter so much, she thought. But it did matter. The truth mattered.
Soon the whole class was quiet and waiting to hear what Ms. Werner would decide.
“I have never known Lindi to lie,” Ms. Werner said firmly. “If she says she didn’t hear, then she didn’t hear. We’ll have a rematch.” She smiled at Lindi.
The tight, queasy feeling drained away. It really does pay to be honest, she thought. People notice. Lindi smiled back at Ms. Werner.
The class was quiet now, and she turned to the map. Jason faced the map too. Anything can happen, Lindi thought. We’re both ready this time.
“Lisbon,” Ms. Werner said.
“There!” Lindi quickly stabbed her finger onto the map. Jason’s finger nearly poked the back of Lindi’s hand. He was that close to winning again. But Lindi’s finger was already there.
“You did it!” Megan squealed.
“No way!” Matt shouted.
Jason turned to Lindi. “You won, fair and square.”
Lindi couldn’t help but grin.
Then she faced the map again because Ms. Werner had called up the next challenger. It was time to focus!

As I was learning from my own true-life experience, I stood alone in my bedroom a few days after the operation, preparing to go to church. I held a tie in my hand and thought, Now what am I going to do with this silly tie? I thought about having my mother help me but soon rejected the idea, knowing she couldn’t go on my mission to tie my ties and otherwise care for me. I simply had to fend for myself. With patience, I tied my tie, and although I used my teeth a little, I learned I could do it and do it well. That day a window was opened to my mind, and I could clearly see that with patience, faith, and determination, I would be able to handle almost any challenge I would face.

A story is told of a certain rabbi:
This rabbi . . . went on a journey with the prophet Elijah. They walked all day, and at nightfall they came to the humble cottage of a poor man, whose only treasure was a cow. The poor man ran out of his cottage, and his wife ran too, to welcome the strangers for the night and to offer them all the simple hospitality which they were able to give in straitened circumstances. Elijah and the Rabbi were entertained with plenty of the cow’s milk, sustained by home-made bread and butter, and they were put to sleep in the best bed while their kindly hosts lay down before the kitchen fire. But in the morning the poor man’s cow was dead. . . .

They walked all the next day, and came that evening to the house of a very wealthy merchant, whose hospitality they craved. The merchant was cold and proud and rich, and all that he would do for the prophet and his companion was to lodge them in a cowshed and feed them on bread and water. In the morning, however, Elijah thanked him very much for what he had done, and sent for a mason to repair one of his walls, which happened to be falling down, as a return for his kindness.

The Rabbi . . . , unable to keep silence any longer, begged the holy man to explain the meaning of his dealings with human beings.

“In regard to the poor man who received us so hospitably,” replied the prophet, “it was decreed that his wife was to die that night, but in reward for his goodness God took the cow instead of the wife. I repaired the wall of the rich miser because a chest of gold was concealed near the place, and if the miser had repaired the wall himself he would have discovered the treasure. Say not therefore to the Lord: What doest thou? But say in thy heart: Must not the Lord of all the earth do right?”

Lana Fonnesbeck of Bear River City, Utah, won second place in pole bending at the National High School Rodeo Finals. She won the chance to compete when she took first place in the Utah high school finals earlier in the year.
Pole bending is done by riding and weaving a horse between six vertical poles placed in the middle of the rodeo arena. Points are awarded for the time of the run made with no poles knocked over.
Lana competed against 120 contestants from 34 states and 2 provinces of Canada. Lana and her horse, Bullet, finished just seven hundredths of a second behind the winner.
Lana is a member of the National Honor Society. She is a member of the Bear River First Ward, Brigham City Utah North Stake.

It was a hot summer day in Japan. I was 10 months into my mission and had finished packing my luggage and getting ready to transfer to another area. Now I was leaving the apartment to catch a train to a new city.
More than anything, I remember the look my companion and I gave each other then. Usually farewells like these are marked by words of thanks and well-wishing. But I remember my companion’s simply glancing down the hall at me with no hint of friendliness. I did the same to him and then walked out the door.
The previous five weeks of my mission had been bitter and contentious. I had been in the city for several months when this companion had arrived. From day one we started fighting. We found we had different attitudes and ideas. When we had disagreements, instead of cooperating, we blamed each other and insisted that the other one change.
Some nights we came home frustrated and barely talked to each other. Most mornings we almost dreaded having to leave the apartment. The work in the area suffered as contention and selfishness drove away the Spirit.
When I transferred, I moved on to new places and experiences, but I often found myself thinking back on the unpleasant memories of those five weeks. As I gained maturity and experience, I felt regret. I began to recognize the good things my companion had done and realized how foolish our arguments had been. Sometimes I would hear other missionaries say complimentary things about him. Deep down, I felt guilty that I had nothing good to say.
Months later, I was reading back through my journal entries from that month. As I thought back on my mistakes and the way I had left, I resolved to do something. I knew I might never see him again, but I followed an impression I had and wrote him a long letter, apologizing and expressing my desire to reconcile.
Three weeks later my zone leader called. I was being transferred to another new city. To my surprise, he told me that I had been assigned to work again with that same missionary.
Having the same companion twice was very rare in my mission, and I knew it wasn’t happening by chance. The day we met again, he thanked me for sending the letter, and we spent a long time that night talking and making amends.
Our second time together was the opposite of the first. This time we put aside our arguments and turned to cooperation and respect. As the days flew by, we became close friends and would come home at night talking and laughing about how the day had gone. We were always eager to go out again the next morning. We had the Spirit with us as we worked and taught, and we had much more success as a result.
After a few weeks my companion was transferred. The day he left, we gave each other a warm embrace. This time, I experienced the bittersweet feeling of saying good-bye to a friend.
A few years have passed, but I still remember the valuable lessons I learned about friendship, forgiveness, and second chances. We don’t always get another chance the way my companion and I did, and I learned that it’s best to make amends before it’s too late.

When Heber J. Grant was 10 years old, he took a singing class.
Teacher: You can’t carry a tune, Heber. You’ll never learn how to sing.
Years later Heber heard Horace S. Ensign sing.
Heber: I would give you three months of my spare time if I could learn to sing one or two hymns!
Horace: Anyone can learn to sing. Are you willing to practice?
After two weeks, Heber had learned to sing “O My Father.” Two months later he could sing four other hymns.

A young father bore witness to me of a great blessing that had come to him and his family. He was awakened one night by a voice that clearly told him to get up and go downstairs. He heeded the warning, and in going into the kitchen he found one wall engulfed in flames. Hurriedly he awakened his family, called the fire department, and with the help of his family fought the fire, keeping it down until the fire department arrived and put it out.
There was no question in his mind that this warning was a manifestation of the protection the Holy Ghost can give to those who keep their lives in harmony with the Spirit.