Gospel Story Finder

Tony Wong, reared in the Church with family support, is an exception in Hong Kong. Most Church members are first-generation converts, often with families who don’t understand this “new” religion.
“It was difficult,” acknowledges Camel Lok, who was baptized as a teenager. Her family tolerated her weekly church attendance, but Camel often felt alone in her quest for spiritual growth and learning.
“I couldn’t have done it without my friends in the ward,” she explains. “Meetings on Sunday really strengthened me for the upcoming week.”
Now Camel and her husband, Gary, both returned missionaries, find support from each other and look forward to rearing their daughter with a strong gospel foundation.

Tim moved closer to the glass aquarium to watch the red velvet swordtails chase each other. He had received the aquarium last week for his birthday. Each night Tim was responsible for feeding the fish and checking the filter that cleaned the tank to make sure it was working. This afternoon as he watched, all the fish swam over to the corner where he usually fed them and poked their mouths out of the water.
“You must be extra hungry today,” said Tim. “I’ll give you a little food to hold you until tonight.” The fish quickly took in the food.
That night Tim fed them again. And they ate most of that too. Whenever Tim saw them at the feeding corner, he gave them more food.
By the end of the week Tim noticed the tank had a bad odor. The water looked cloudy, and the swordtails didn’t swim around as much or as fast as they did before.
“Dad,” he called. “Come look at my fish.”
Dad put down his newspaper and looked at the aquarium with Tim. “Looks like the filter isn’t working, Tim,” said Dad. “The water isn’t getting clean.”
“No, Dad. The filter works. Look at the bubbles. I check it every night.”
“It’s bubbling all right,” replied Dad. “But something’s wrong.”
“What’s that black stuff at the bottom?” asked Tim.
His father examined the patches of black on the orange rock. Tim saw the fish in the feeding corner and got out the food.
“It’s not feeding time yet, Tim,” Dad said.
“I know. But I feed them whenever they come to their feeding corner. And they sure get hungry a lot.”
“Then I know what that black stuff is, Tim, and also what that strange odor is we’ve been smelling. You’ve been feeding the fish too often. When you give them food several times a day, they don’t clean it all up. That excess food is rotting and making your fish sick.”
Tim was sad. He had thought he was being extra nice to the fish, but he was really hurting them.
Dad continued, “Remember when you asked the other day why Heavenly Father doesn’t give us everything we pray for?”
Tim nodded his head.
“Here’s a good example,” his dad continued. “We’re a little like these fish, always asking for more. Our Heavenly Father knows what and how much of everything is good for us. At times He tells us no, or not yet, just like you’ll have to do to these fish when they keep coming up to the corner for more food than they need.”
“The man at the pet store told me how to clean out the tank,” said Tim.
“I’ll help you,” Dad said. “While you take out the rocks, I’ll get the bucket and siphon hose.”
Tim pushed up his sleeves and put his hand into the tank to take out the largest rock. “All right, you guys,” he said to the fish. “I’m sorry I made you sick. You’re not going to like the cure, but for your own good, I’m only going to feed you once a day from now on.”

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

When I was young and new to the Church, I was assigned to minister to an elderly man who lived by himself. He lived on the edge of town in an old motel room that had become an extended-stay residence for those who couldn’t afford apartments. He didn’t appear to have many possessions or family in the area and lived a lonely life. During one visit, he told me about the child who was stillborn to him and his wife. I marveled that he was brought to tears by the recollection of something that must have happened at least 50 years before. It would only be a brief time before I better understood his feelings.
Two years later my wife and I drove past the scene of a car accident. I realized that no police or ambulance had arrived yet. I had just completed an emergency medical technician course, so I stopped to see if I could help. When I made my way through the crowd, I saw an overturned vehicle with a small child lying nearby on the ground. There was no one giving her any care. I kneeled beside her and began to assess her condition, which was serious.
As I did, I heard someone call my name. I looked up into the face of a man in our ward who was less active. I realized this was his young daughter, who had attended our Primary. A nurse arrived, and we began CPR. When the ambulance crew took over, I returned to my friend’s side. I learned later that his child had ended up partially under the vehicle and others had pulled her out before my arrival. Her injuries were internal, and she did not survive.
Less than a year later, we were expecting our fourth daughter, and my wife carried her the full nine months. My wife woke me early one morning, saying her water had broken. We went to the hospital. After I parked the car, I went to her room and was told that the baby had died. I didn’t immediately understand, since we had only just arrived. When the doctor did his initial check, he couldn’t find a heartbeat. We never knew why. Instead of enjoying a newborn, we found ourselves planning for her funeral and taking down the nursery items.
Less than a year after that, a two-year-old boy in our ward was run over and killed by a service truck in the parking lot where he lived. I visited the family and spoke at his funeral. The mother mentioned he had been unusually cuddly that morning, almost as if he were saying goodbye.
Our ward had experienced the deaths of three young children in just over one year.
About a year after the death of our baby, we moved and I was assigned to minister to a young couple with two children. The older daughter had contracted an infection while in the womb and was born with a severe mental disability. Although she was nine years old at the time, she was like an infant developmentally. It was a struggle for the young family, who had limited means.
One day I received a phone call telling me she had died during the night. No member of the bishopric was available to visit just then, so I was asked to visit until they could get there. I arrived as her body was being removed, and I had a chance to talk with the father. The wife’s ministering sister arrived and did an amazing job comforting the family and taking care of the home.
I went with the father to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I suppose I was able to render some service because of my prior experiences. I don’t consider myself a great ministering brother, but I was glad I wasn’t a stranger in that home.
Many years later, one of our daughters was expecting her first child. She had married later in life and we knew from tests and exams that the child would need corrective surgery at birth. She went into early labor, but his condition apparently placed too much stress on his heart and he died before birth. We knew how she felt, but it was very difficult to see her so heartbroken.
When reflecting on these events, I wrote in my journal that I never expected to have so much to do with the death of children. The experiences, although tragic, helped me feel greater love and compassion for others because I understood what they were going through.
When I ponder what the gospel means to me, I have to say it is about relationships: those we had before, those we form in this life, and those we hope for after this life—the type of relationships and love that would cause an elderly man to mourn the loss of a child he would never know in this life.
Photograph at Oakland California Temple by Christina Smith
I don’t know how the blessings and protection of the temple reach out from the house of the Lord to touch our families, but I believe they do. Heavenly Father strengthens us according to our needs and uses us to help others in their trials. The hope and promise of priesthood ordinances and covenants are provided by a loving Father who knows our trials.

Melinda, from Idaho, a young pioneer of our day, wrote about how hard it was for her to have the courage to leave her friends when they were seeing a movie that was popular but clearly against her standards. “Some may think, ‘It’s just a movie, what’s the big deal?’” she said. “But it’s the little things that turn into big things. It’s not easy to do, but the Lord will help us,” she insisted. And when she left, others followed her. That’s pioneering.

Do you remember the joy that comes from teaching the gospel to someone who has been deprived of these teachings throughout his or her life, the excitement that comes when you teach the law of the Lord, and the blessings that are received from following Him? Could you ever forget the joy of your first baptism in the mission field?

In my day the chapels were not equipped with baptismal fonts. My first baptism was in the Scioto River in the state of Ohio, USA. It was on a cool fall day, and the water seemed even colder than the air. I remember the shock of wading into the cold river while encouraging my investigator to follow me. The coldness of the air and the water, however, soon vanished as I administered the ordinance of baptism. Seeing the radiant face of the individual who came up out of the waters of baptism is an image I will never forget.

When I was first called as a bishop, I discovered that our record for subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine in the Sixth-Seventh Ward had been at a low ebb. Prayerfully we analyzed the names of individuals whom we could call to be magazine representative. The inspiration dictated that Elizabeth Keachie should be given the assignment. As her bishop, I approached her with the task. She responded, “Bishop Monson, I’ll do it.”

Elizabeth Keachie was of Scottish descent, and when she replied, “I’ll do it,” one knew she indeed would. She and her sister-in-law, Helen Ivory—neither more than five feet tall—commenced to walk the ward, house by house, street by street, and block by block. The result was phenomenal. We had more subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine than had been recorded by all the other units of the stake combined.

I congratulated Elizabeth Keachie one Sunday evening and said to her, “Your task is done.”

She replied, “Not yet, Bishop. There are two square blocks we have not yet covered.”

When she told me which blocks they were, I said, “Oh, Sister Keachie, no one lives on those blocks. They are totally industrial.”

“Just the same,” she said, “I’ll feel better if Nell and I go and check them ourselves.”

On a rainy day, she and Nell covered those final two blocks. On the first one, she found no home, nor did she on the second. She and Sister Ivory paused, however, at a driveway which was muddy from a recent storm. Sister Keachie gazed about 100 feet (30 m) down the driveway, which was adjacent to a machine shop, and there noticed a garage. This was not a normal garage, however, in that there was a curtain at the window.

She turned to her companion and said, “Nell, shall we go and investigate?”

The two sweet sisters then walked down the muddy driveway 40 feet (12 m) to a point where the entire view of the garage could be seen. Now they noticed a door which had been cut into the side of the garage, which door was unseen from the street. They also noticed that there was a chimney with smoke rising from it.

Elizabeth Keachie knocked at the door. A man 68 years of age, William Ringwood, answered. They then presented their story concerning the need of every home having the Relief Society Magazine. William Ringwood replied, “You’d better ask my father.”

Ninety-four-year-old Charles W. Ringwood then came to the door and also listened to the message. He subscribed.

Elizabeth Keachie reported to me the presence of these two men in our ward. When I requested their membership certificates from Church headquarters, I received a call from the Membership Department at the Presiding Bishopric’s Office. The clerk said, “Are you sure you have living in your ward Charles W. Ringwood?”

I replied that I did, whereupon she reported that the membership certificate for him had remained in the “lost and unknown” file of the Presiding Bishopric’s Office for the previous 16 years.

On Sunday morning Elizabeth Keachie and Nell Ivory brought to our priesthood meeting Charles and William Ringwood. This was the first time they had been inside a chapel for many years. Charles Ringwood was the oldest deacon I had ever met. His son was the oldest male member holding no priesthood I had ever met.

It became my opportunity to ordain Brother Charles Ringwood a teacher and then a priest and finally an elder. I shall never forget his interview with respect to seeking a temple recommend. He handed me a silver dollar, which he took from an old, worn leather coin purse and said, “This is my fast offering.”

I said, “Brother Ringwood, you owe no fast offering. You need it yourself.”

“I want to receive the blessings, not retain the money,” he responded.

It was my opportunity to take Charles Ringwood to the Salt Lake Temple and to attend with him the endowment session.

Within a few months, Charles W. Ringwood passed away. At his funeral service, I noticed his family sitting on the front rows in the mortuary chapel, but I noticed also two sweet women sitting near the rear of the chapel, Elizabeth Keachie and Helen Ivory.

As I gazed upon those two faithful and dedicated women and contemplated their personal influence for good, the promise of the Lord filled my very soul: “I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end. Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.”

A few years ago, I began to notice that things around me were beginning to darken. It troubled me because simple things like reading the print in my scriptures were becoming more difficult. I wondered what had happened to the quality of the lightbulbs and wondered why manufacturers today couldn’t make things like they had in years past.

I replaced the bulbs with brighter ones. They too became dim. I blamed the poor design of the lamps and bulbs. I even questioned whether the brightness of the sun was fading before the thought occurred to me that the problem might not be with the amount of light in the room—the problem might be with my own eyes.

Shortly thereafter, I went to an ophthalmologist who assured me that the world was not going dark at all. A cataract on my eye was the reason the light seemed to be fading. This certainly gives you my age. I placed my faith in the capable hands of this trained specialist, the cataract was removed, and behold, light again flooded my life! The light had never diminished; only my capacity to see the light had been lessened.

This taught me a profound truth. Often when the world seems dark, when the heavens seem distant, we seek to blame everything around us, when the real cause of the darkness may be a lack of faith within ourselves.

Over the following days, the entire family of the deceased boy attended the chapel, while it was open, where they displayed incredible faith and were extremely grateful for the ward’s response.

A two-minute silence was also held for both boys during sacrament service that following Sunday, to which all members, family and the community were invited.

The next day, President Shorland was contacted directly by the family asking if they could attend to grieve collectively without the public or media representatives being present. He made the necessary arrangements. Time was spent in the chapel reading the messages and in a prayerful reflection. President Shorland said it had an “extremely spiritual impact” on him.

I remember, as a small boy, sitting on my dad’s lap and hearing him tell me about when he was a boy and how afraid he was of the dark, and how he would wake up in the night and be so frightened that he would jump out of bed and run to his parents’ room. There Grandma would always let him get in bed with her and then everything was alright. I don’t know if it was because of Dad telling me about this or not, but I grew up a total coward. I had, and still do have, a great fear of the dark. I understand why the scriptures relate darkness to that which is not good. My biggest challenge day after day as a boy was going to bed each night because I would have to turn out the light and then get clear across the room and into bed before a booger could get me. I knew they were in the closet and under the bed and behind the curtains. I got so I would start to run, hit the light, take one step inside the room, and then take a huge leap and hit the bed—most of the time! Mother never did know why the springs were broken on that side of the bed. Once in bed, up would go the covers over my head, and there I would lay paralyzed until I went to sleep.

Invariably I would wake up in the middle of the night and figure for sure I was a goner. Finally, when I just couldn’t stand it any longer, I would throw back the covers and leap out of bed so the boogers under the bed couldn’t grab me, race past the closet that must have always had a couple in there, and then run down the hall to Dad and Mother’s bedroom. That hall seemed like it was as long as a football field. Now that I think about it, it was only about ten feet long. But I had to go past the bathroom, the door to the kitchen, and the door to the living room, and you know who was lurking at each of them! Once in the bedroom I could see my dad’s big arm raise in the air with the bed covers in his hand and I would jump in beside him. Down would come the covers and his arm over me. Then I knew there wasn’t a booger in the world big enough to get me. I have often wondered what would have happened if one night my dad would have said, “Bobby, you big boob, get back in your own bed!” I’m afraid it would have caused permanent damage, But he loved me, he understood, and I knew I was safe and secure in the arms of my dad and that he would never turn me away.

I can still remember my experience praying about the book. After reading from it one night, I closed the book, knelt down, and asked my Heavenly Father if it were true. I felt a blanket of warmth surround me, something I had never felt in the Buddhist temples I had attended all my life. This feeling was different. I knew someone was listening. In that moment I went from believing the Church was true to knowing it was true, and I decided to be baptized.

How can we do this in our homes? Some of you have heard me tell how overwhelmed my husband, Mel, and I felt as the parents of four young children. As we faced the challenges of parenting and keeping up with the demands of life, we were desperate for help. We prayed and pleaded to know what to do. The answer that came was clear: “It is OK if the house is a mess and the children are still in their pajamas and some responsibilities are left undone. The only things that really need to be accomplished in the home are daily scripture study and prayer and weekly family home evening.”
We were trying to do these things, but they were not always the priority and, amidst the chaos, were sometimes neglected. We changed our focus and tried not to worry about the less-important things. Our focus became to talk, rejoice, preach, and testify of Christ by striving to daily pray and study the scriptures and have weekly family home evening.

Earlier this year, I was provided with an exciting yet humbling opportunity to help my little sister, Oceane, progress on the covenant path by accepting the invitation to be baptized and fulfill one of the prescribed requirements to enter the celestial kingdom. She postponed her baptism one month, until I was ordained a priest, to give me the privilege to perform the ordinance, while our other sisters were also privileged to work under priesthood assignment and stand as witnesses. As we stood on opposite sides of the font and prepared to enter the water, I noticed her excitement, as it matched mine. And I felt united with her, seeing that she was making the right decision. This opportunity to exercise the priesthood required me to be more careful and less casual in my gospel living. In order to prepare, I went to the temple every day that week, supported by my mom, grandma, and sister, to perform baptisms for the dead.
This experience taught me a lot about the priesthood and how I could exercise it worthily. I know that all priesthood holders can feel the same things I felt if we follow Nephi’s example to “go and do” (see 1 Nephi 3:7). We cannot sit idly and expect the Lord to use us in His great work. We must not wait for those who need our aid to seek us out; it is our duty as priesthood holders to exemplify and stand as witnesses of God. If we are making decisions that inhibit us from our eternal progression, we must change now. Satan will try his hardest to keep us in a carnal state of seeking simple pleasures. But I know that if we put in the effort, find those who will support us, and repent each day, the resulting blessings will be incredible and our lives will be forever changed as we press forward on the covenant path.

In Liverpool, New York, USA, as Primary president Melissa Fisk attended ward council meeting, she gained insight into its power. When she reached inside her bag for a notebook, she came across a picture of 28 Primary children on the steps of the Palmyra New York Temple. All were covered with wasp stings. For a moment, the picture pulled her attention away from the meeting, and she focused briefly on the day the ward Primary had gone to Palmyra to enjoy the sacred feeling of the temple grounds. Unfortunately, when the children spread out their blankets, they had accidentally upset a wasps’ nest.
After everyone had been cared for, the leaders invited the children to touch the temple. The children refused because they were afraid that there might be more wasps. So parents and leaders stood in a line and created a path to the temple. This gave the children courage to move forward.
As Melissa turned her attention back to the ward council meeting, she thought, “If only everyone could be surrounded by such loving friends and leaders as they progress toward the temple.”
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the Relief Society president comment on a sister in need: “She wasn’t at church last Sunday. I’ll make sure her visiting teachers let her know about the upcoming temple trip.”
“They’ve got some hard things going on right now,” added the elders quorum president. “I’ll follow up with their home teachers and see if there’s anything we can do.”
“The young women could help with babysitting,” said the Young Women president.
As Melissa looked at the faces of the members of the ward council, she saw genuine affection and concern. A smile spread across her face. “The Lord has prepared ways for His children to be protected and loved,” she thought. “The ward council!”
Just as in Joplin, Puerto Francisco de Orellana, and Liverpool, Church leaders worldwide continue to discover the blessings of ward and branch councils. As they do, they will harness the extraordinary power of these councils to help the Lord bless His children and accomplish His work.

When I first received a call to serve as a health missionary, I knew very little about the program. I had a vision of myself heading into the deep, dark jungle, mounted on a carabao, laden down with an eighteen-month supply of Band-Aids, aspirin, multi-colored fly swatters, rubbing alcohol, shoe-laces, insect repellent, obsolete snake-bite kits, bouillon cubes, and various first-aid manuals collected from MIA and physical education classes.
This dream has been shattered in the months I’ve been serving in the Philippines as a health missionary, but the vision that has taken its place is so beautiful, I don’t miss the carabao at all!
The health missionary program of the Church has been underway for two years now, but still many are asking, “What is a health missionary?” “How do you get called to serve?” “What do you do?”
Contrary to what many of us believed when we first heard of the program, we are not sent out to cure all the diseases on the face of the earth. We are not even called to treat the illnesses of the members of the Church but rather to teach them principles of good health that will help them prevent disease. What a beautiful program!
We are called, as are other missionaries, to serve at our own expense for eighteen months or two years. Our calls come from President Harold B. Lee through our bishops. We go to the Missionary Home in Salt Lake and then spend time in language learning and/or our health program orientation. And then it’s away! We’re off to the islands, or the Lamanites in the Dakotas, or south of the border to Uruguay, or all the way to the Philippines!
This is a unique country. There are many varieties of beautiful plants, trees, flowers, fruits, and sunsets. And some of the most friendly, humble, wonderful people in the world—40,000,000 of them in this country of 7,100 islands. They speak 87 different dialects. They are remarkably gifted, particularly in music and handiwork.
This is also a developing country and a land of many health problems. Manila is a crowded city with many people living in poverty. Thousands of families live on a salary of 50 pesos per month (about $8.00) or less. There are typhoons and floods and flies and garbage. Pneumonia and tuberculosis are serious health problems.
Where and how do we begin to change this trend in the lives of our Church members and have some impact on their basic health? We have the advantage of a perfect organization already established and the direction of the priesthood. What a perfect way to reach the family and the individual—through the Church program, which is already functioning all over the world! We will work with and train leaders who will then share with the members. Under the direction of the district and branch leaders and our mission president, we will help to gather resource material, determine health problems in specific areas, and formulate lessons, programs, and activities that can be adapted to various teaching situations. Because of the way our program will work and the emphasis on health care rather than sick care, we can establish something that will endure long after we’ve gone home.
Happily we have found that active members of the Church are generally in better health than their countrymen. I attribute this to their keeping of the commandments, including the Word of Wisdom, and the purposeful living that comes with activity in the Church. These members already understand that their bodies are temples and must be kept clean and healthy. One humble sister who lost her husband and must work to have enough for herself and her children said to me with tears in her eyes, “Sister, I don’t have enough money to buy what I know my children should eat; but you know, I always express thanks to my Heavenly Father for the food I do have and ask him to bless it to give us health. And that makes all the difference.”
We have opportunities to proselyte along with our work in the health program. There are probably few experiences in life that bring the same quality of joy as that of bearing witness to a family that God lives and that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. Even if it happens in a humble, two-room home, with mice running around on the floor, the rain coming in on your back, one light globe to light the room, and a big mother pig bursting in in the middle of your testimony, it still can be one of the most beautiful experiences life has to offer.
Some of our proselyting opportunities come in connection with our health work. We’ve had discussions with many interesting and interested people and have placed tracts and copies of the Book of Mormon in such places as the Department of Health, the World Health Organization, the Nutrition Foundation of the Philippines, and with taxi drivers, people on the bus, people at the post office, and even with Sister Ester, a delightful Catholic nun I met on a plane between Manila and Cebu. It was thrilling to see Sister Ester reading Alma.
One of the best things about a health mission is the association with the tremendous young people who serve on regular missions. Part of our work as health missionaries is concerned with keeping all 250 of them healthy. We start with simple things like “boil your water and wash your hands.” Then, somehow, you get the flu, and an elder asks innocently, “Did you forget to boil your water, Sister Edmunds?” We give the missionaries injections of the “gamma goblins” (gamma globulin), and many have laughed about “finally getting the point of the program.” Sometimes we’ll be engrossed in a book on the nutritional value of rice, and a missionary will ask humbly, “Are you sure that’s one of the standard works?”
Hymns begin to have different meanings sometimes when you’re singing them as a health missionary. “Thou flowing water, pure and clear” (no. 4); “With healing in thy wings” (no. 20); “With sleep refresh my feeble frame” (no. 59); “In every condition, in sickness, in health, In poverty’s vale or abounding in wealth” (no. 66); “Feed us with knowledge and daily bread” (no. 43).
Scriptures, too, take on a new meaning. “And ye shall serve the Lord your God, and he shall bless thy bread, and thy water: and I will take sickness away from the midst of thee.” (Ex. 23:25.) “Thou shalt not eat any abominable thing.” (Deut. 14:3.) “I have … drunk strange waters. …” (2 Kgs. 19:24.) “And there were some who died with fevers, which at some seasons of the year were very frequent in the land—but not so much so with fevers, because of the excellent qualities of the many plants and roots which God had prepared to remove the cause of diseases, to which men were subject by nature of the climate.” (Alma 46:40.)
You grow a lot on a mission. Your feet grow flat, your leather books grow mold, your clothes grow thin, and your heart grows bigger. You learn a lot of things you didn’t know before, like how to live without milk. You learn to make exotic noises with wet Hush Puppies as you walk down the street. You become better acquainted with Nephites, Israelites, and parasites. And through it all—the study sessions by candlelight, the rain on your bed in the middle of the night—you’re thankful to be here and thrilled at all the things you have to write home about as you try to put into words the best two years of your life.
What or who is a health missionary, then? Someone who’s going to learn and share a lot for a few short months. Someone who will gain much more than he or she will ever be able to give. A health missionary is not necessarily a nurse or a doctor. It is possible for Church members with many different skills to participate in this great, beautiful, inspired program. The potential is exciting.
This is a labor of love and an opportunity to represent the Savior. And he is our greatest example, for truly he was ever concerned with both the physical and spiritual health of all he met.

“I drop my daughters off to school by bus every morning, so we have many opportunities to talk. On one recent occasion, we noticed a husband and wife having a disagreement. My daughters quickly turned to me and waited for me to comment. Instead I asked them how they felt about what had happened. They told me they thought a man should never talk to his wife that way. After that, we had a conversation about marriage and relationships. Our 30-minute bus trip ended up being very edifying and uplifting.”

Mario Lorenz, Guatemala

Last week several of us were in the office of my former missionary companion, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, shortly after he had received his notice from the First Presidency as to when he would speak at this great conference.
Elder Hinckley turned serious and almost wan, then said, “You know, this frightens me terribly. It does every time general conference approaches.”
Elder Hinckley has been coming up here twice a year and performing ably for thirteen years. But can you see how one of us feels coming to this world-conference pulpit for the first, and perhaps only, time?
And so tonight, with your approval and President Smith’s permission, I should like to speak to only two of you here, as I respond to the request of the First Presidency to represent the Church Leadership Committee, headed by Elder Thomas S. Monson. I shall feel more comfortable chatting with only two of you, but you all may listen if you care to. The two are our two sons: Owen, a priest, and Kay, a teacher.
The General Authorities are concerned about you two boys, and your sisters too. Our Church leaders are aware of the tremendous challenges and opportunities facing all of our youth.
Four years ago the presiding brethren launched a leadership training program. It began with the General Authorities themselves, in a school-of-the-prophets meeting each Wednesday in the Church Administration Building. They taught themselves in the leadership skills of Jesus and his prophets. From this modern school of the prophets came outlines and source materials for leadership training in the stakes and missions—at stake priesthood leadership meetings, stake priesthood meetings, Saturday evening leadership meetings of quarterly stake conferences, and at similar meetings in the missions. There have also been leadership seminars for Regional Representatives of the Twelve. These representatives then conduct regional meetings twice a year for stake priesthood and auxiliary leaders. This year, leadership instruction has been extended to a bishops’ training course, to monthly quorum meetings of high priests, and to other areas.
This leadership training aims particularly to help young priesthood holders like you to better meet the challenges of this fast-changing world. And how it is changing!
In 1900 only 4 percent of the college-age group attended college. Now it is 40 percent. A national business magazine notes that “it is estimated at the present time that an engineering degree represents knowledge that becomes obsolete after ten years. Changes are coming so fast that degrees will soon be out of date after five years. …” Another publication reports that 80 percent of the jobs in the future will require less than four years in college, but will demand vocational-technical education for skills such as those of carpenters, auto mechanics, secretaries, and salesmen.
A book, The Year 2000, talks about some of the developments likely ahead for you: mining and farming on the ocean floors, three-dimensional photography, artificial moons for lighting large areas at night, and many others.
Even more sobering, though, are thoughts regarding other changes that some say are ahead: the phasing out of family life and of the moral code that helped make this and other nations great.
As priesthood bearers, we must be prepared to meet change and to resist with all our might those changes that would strike at the basic institution of the Church and of society generally—the home.
You will know wisdom, Owen and Kay, when you fully realize that the lasting lessons in leadership do not change. They are eternal. They helped make Noah and Abraham and Moses giants in the land, giants in character, in leadership, in bringing men and women closer to God. These same unchanging principles of leadership are helping Latter-day Saint priesthood leaders and holders become mighty leaders today, not only in the remarkable growth of the Church but also in government, business, education, and the professions of the world. These eternal principles can help you lead in a world that cries out for real priesthood leadership.
May I give you one or two examples. Let’s begin with that noble forebear of many of us—Joseph, who was sold into Egypt. As a youth he was rejected. His own brothers cast him into a pit and then sold him as a slave. While still a young man, he was bound in a dungeon because he turned away from a woman who tempted him. He was confined in that dungeon for over two years. When he was brought out, he was taken before the Pharaoh, who was troubled with a dream. He had heard of Joseph the prisoner’s reputation for interpreting dreams. Catch Joseph’s reply to Pharaoh’s request for an answer to his dream, Joseph’s first recorded words after emerging from the dungeon: “It is not in me: God shall give Pharaoh an answer of peace,” said Joseph. (Gen. 41:16.)
Joseph had kept the faith—faith in his Heavenly Father. He had remained free as a slave and as a prisoner because he had kept close to the Lord. Yet there are young men and women today who become slaves when they are free because they unfortunately reach for a pill when they suffer a reverse or feel rejected.
Remember some years ago, Owen, when you and I together prepared a family home evening lesson while on a vacation at Flathead Lake in Montana? The lesson was on David and Goliath. The account in Samuel said that Goliath was six cubits and a span tall. We figured that was nearly ten feet. (What a basketball center he would have been!) Samuel said that Goliath wore a coat of mail weighing 5,000 shekels. We did more figuring. That coat weighed approximately 160 pounds. Goliath was not only big; he was strong. Listen now to David the shepherd boy’s words as he faced the giant in the Valley of Elah, after Goliath had roared out his ridicule.
David replied, “This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand. …” (1 Sam. 17:46.)
Owen and Kay, you are going to face some Goliaths ahead—big challenges. Don’t fear them. Meet them. Move into them, knowing that the Lord is with you, if your cause is righteous.
There are more lessons to be learned from Nephi and Naaman, from Joshua and the brother of Jared, from Samuel of Israel and Samuel the Lamanite, and from many others. The most powerful lessons, however, you will find, come from that leader among leaders, Jesus the Christ.
And so, Owen and Kay, from the prophets and from the Prince of Peace, learn how to lead, beginning with yourselves. Stand on your own feet. Stand tall. Hold your heads high as though you are truly sons of God, which you are. Walk among men as holders of powers beyond your own, which you have, through the priesthood. Move on the good earth as though you are partners of the Lord in helping to bring immortality and eternal life to mankind, which you are. Walk quietly, as in stocking feet; but walk fearlessly, in faith. Don’t let the ill winds sway you. Walk as leaders with the priesthood in the government of God. Walk with hands ready to help, with hearts full of love for your fellowmen. But walk with a toughness in righteousness.
If you do, Owen and Kay, I promise you as your father and as the presiding priesthood bearer in our home that you will know the meaning of that blessing of a father of old to his son, when Lehi spoke to Jacob: “… men are, that they might have joy.” (2 Ne. 2:25.)
I give you this witness, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Each morning, these volunteers gathered to receive marching orders.
“The crew captain would give us the number for somebody who had asked for help,” says Nels S., 14, from Georgia, USA. “Then we would call and schedule a time to show up.”
Groups soon drove off to find their work sites. But the sight that greeted them was shocking.
“We started driving and after about 30 minutes we started seeing huge piles on the sides of the road,” says Hannah H., 14, from Alabama, USA.
“It was all of their personal stuff,” says Alana C., 15, from Alabama. “That was really sad. They were throwing it all out because it had gotten destroyed.”
“I was scared at first,” says Andrew H., 13, of Alabama, “because I saw all of this and thought it was going to take forever to clean up. But then I was happy because I realized this stuff wouldn’t stay sitting inside the house collecting mold. It would be easier for them to start new and get their lives back.”
And that was just what the Helping Hands hoped to do—help people start to get their lives back. So they set to work.
Teams tore out drywall, ripped out floors and ceilings, broke down walls, pulled out soggy insulation, removed furniture, and helped homeowners sort through their belongings. Then they gathered what was ruined and piled it by the road for sanitation services to haul away.
“Everyone did a small job,” says Meghan K., 12, from Georgia, “but it all ended up equaling a big work effort.”
Hallie R., 17, from Georgia, agrees. “It may not seem like you’re making a huge difference, but every little bit counts. When so many people come together and help, you can make a big difference.”
The Helping Hands weren’t alone in their work. Neighbors, other church groups, and larger organizations also joined the flood of service.
“There were rescue teams from other areas in Louisiana,” explains Anna J., 13, from Alabama. “I don’t think we would have been able to even get close to where we got with one house without those rescue teams and a few of the neighbors.”
“It was cool to see different churches working together under God’s name and to see God’s children working together even if they are from different churches and places,” Landon R., 14, from Georgia says.
Homeowners pitched in when they could too. Many of them worked side by side with the Helping Hands and others.
“You would think that they would all be absorbed in their own pain, and you wouldn’t blame them for that,” says Nels. “But most of them were positive and looking for ways to help their neighbors. They weren’t caught up in their emotions; they were just working to rebuild their lives.”
Working with one homeowner was especially memorable for Hallie. “He had been in an accident years ago, so he wore a back brace, and yet he was still helping with us,” she says. “It was an amazing experience.”
And “amazing” was just one way to describe it. Many youth also explained why the opportunity was memorable for them.
“The people we helped had gone through some rough times,” says Derek T., 13, from Alabama. “I felt warm inside doing service for other people.”
“Talking with the people, you couldn’t even tell that their houses were just destroyed. They were so thankful and smiling and positive,” says Gavin R., 14, from Alabama. “When you’re serving these people, the love you feel for them is definitely memorable.”
“You can see these things on the news, but you never really know what people are going through until you go out and help,” says Luke G., 13, of Georgia.
Many volunteers also felt that the hard work and service helped them gain new understanding.
“I realized that everyone has problems, and sometimes people need help because they can’t help themselves,” says Lindsay K., 14, from Georgia. “It was hard. It was really hard. But I am grateful that I am in a good situation so I can help others.” Madison C., 13, from Alabama says, “Service helps you understand that bad things happen to people and that they can get over it, so you know you can get over hard things too.”
“It was a great way to prepare for a mission,” says Jared R., 15, from Alabama. “You were tired, you woke up early, and it was hot. But you went in there and got it done. Once you got into the swing of things, everybody was talking and having a good time.”
Gloria G., 16, from Georgia, says, “I realized that there might be big problems in the world, but God will always be there. He’ll always find a way to help you even though you might think that you lost everything and there’s no hope. He’s not going to abandon you.
“I’ve been having issues with my testimony, but what He did for these people showed me that He really does care, He really is there, and He’s going to make sure we’re OK.”
“I learned that I should give my all and not give up when I’m tired or bored,” says Landon. “I think in some ways the man we helped blessed my life more than I blessed his. I know God gave me this opportunity to serve because He loves me and He knew I needed it.”
“I was able to serve as the hands of Christ,” says Julia C., 15, from Georgia. “It was humbling, and I was grateful that I was blessed to go. I loved the experience.”

Jennilee Adams from Ogden, Utah, appreciates the common bond with those in institute. When she came to college, she felt nervous and alone because she didn’t know any other students. “Will I find friends?” she wondered. “Will I be okay living so far away from home?”

It didn’t take her long to get over those worries, however, because Jennilee went to the institute building the first week of school to sign up for classes and to attend opening activities. At institute she quickly found friends.

Today, one year later, Jennilee is a different person than she was when she first came to CEU. Thanks to institute, she is confident in herself and her testimony of the gospel. In fact, Jennilee is the president of an organization associated with institute that functions as an activity and service club for LDS women. The LDS men have a similar organization. These associations give institute students a chance to meet for fun, weekly activities on campus.

“It’s just a chance to get to know a bunch of girls that have your same beliefs, who are experiencing the same things, and are making the same choices,” explains Jennilee. She says that she will always keep in touch with the wonderful friends she has met through institute. Needless to say, Jennilee does not feel alone anymore.

There may be a time when a person would have doubts concerning the ability or qualification of someone being called to a position in the Church. One brother in my acquaintance once learned a great lesson in this regard. Years ago, as a ward teacher supervisor, he had a problem motivating a particular ward teacher to perform his duties. The supervisor found it necessary to do this man’s ward teaching for six consecutive months. One night in a sacrament meeting, my friend was called upon to sustain this man to be a member of the bishopric. He struggled within himself to know whether he should sustain a man who had not performed his duties as a ward teacher and whom he felt did not have the qualities necessary to be a good member of the bishopric. Reluctantly, he finally voted in the affirmative. In the ensuing months the slothful ward teacher took hold of his position in the bishopric and moved the work of the Lord forward. He served successfully as a member of the bishopric and later as a bishop, a high councilor, and eventually as a counselor in a stake presidency.