Gospel Story Finder

It started, as such things often do, with an unkind remark. Something faded now, totally forgotten. And yet it turned her father away. Church became too long a drive, too inconvenient. Wouldn’t it be better to spend the time with the family? A cloud settled over Jean-Claude Ferland, something foggy and chilling.
Mother fretted, worried, talked to the branch president. She finally decided it was better to stay home. Marie Claude—always so constant—and Clément—tall, strong Clément, who used to tease the elders so—they stopped bothering with church.
Maybe it was the years in elementary school that made the difference for Christine, all those times of quietly defending what she knew to be true. Somehow, she would stand up this time, too.
She didn’t defy her family. She simply kept going to church. It meant hitching a ride into town with a member on Friday or Saturday night, staying with a family through Sunday. Sometimes she couldn’t get a ride back until Monday morning at 4:00 or 5:00 A.M. And then, if she missed the bus she’d have to pedal her bike for an hour to get to school.
But it also meant that she could keep her family in touch with the Church. In time, she was able to get Clément and Marie Claude to join her for meetings or activities. And mother fasted and prayed, and kept the hope alive that someday father would return to activity.
Christine stopped to catch her breath. She exhaled a cloud of white mist which slowly disappeared. Then she leaned against a green railing thick with chipped enamel. Out on the water, the sailboat maneuvered, tacking against the wind. She found herself wondering about the sailors on the boat. The gliding that seemed so effortless to her—was it work for them, the muscle-straining labor of tugging ropes and trimming sails, of leaning hard on the rudder? Did they find joy in the sailing, in the combat with deep currents and stiff winds? And it made Christine look to the past again, a deep look to a time when struggle seemed worthwhile.
Dinner at the Ferland’s was always a glorious affair—plates heaped with home-grown tomatoes, beans, and pickled beets, with lamb and potatoes browned together until the meat was tender and the vegetables sweet. In the wood-burning oven, an apple pie simmered. The room spoke of families and of love.
It was at such a dinner that father called his wife and children near. Christine noticed a happy mischief in his eyes, a spark of something that for too long had been distant.
“We have to make your mother happy,” he said, looking each teenager firmly in the eye. He let them guess what he was planning to do.
After a minute he said, “Whatever it takes, we’re going to the temple.”
Of course, saying and doing are two different things. But even when he wasn’t attending his meetings, Jean-Claude Ferland had never thought of himself as anything less than a Latter-day Saint. He was still friendly with people from the branch, still in contact with home teachers, still “active” in his heart. So when he decided to be involved, he gave full dedication.
Sunday meetings were not considered optional. Service projects, branch parties, cottage meetings, whatever was asked, the Ferlands would gladly participate. Callings were willingly accepted, instructions from the branch president explicitly heeded. Even tithing, which had been a struggle in the past, was now a privilege. Once, when it was paid twice by mistake, mother and father decided to “let the Lord keep it.”
Time passed quickly. In August 1986, interviews were held and recommends were signed. The dream was coming true.
Christine can see it still, every time she closes her eyes—the Washington D. C. Temple, its white spires bright against the woods. Inside, everything is calm and bright. People smile and share a great peace.
In a sacred room, maman and papa, dressed in white, kneel at the altar. Christine, Clément, and Marie Claude, also in white, kneel beside them. Hands are placed on hands, children and parents sealed. By the power of the priesthood they are given the promises of eternity.
It was a cold day, though the sun was bright and clear. Christine looked upriver now, searching for other ships. But the sailboat was by itself.
“I wonder if sailboats ever feel lonely?” she said to herself. “Do they ever wonder if anyone notices how well they turn, or how they bump when they hit a swell?” Clément might, she thought. Then again, so might father. They were both fascinated by movement.
From the day when father first brought home his truck, Clément was admiringly by his side. There was a wonder to all that chrome and steel, the thrill of thunder roaring under the hood. Clément wanted to climb in the cab, fire up the engine, shift the gears and roll through mile after mile of freedom. Whenever he could, he rode with his father, and he dreamed of the day when he would have his own rig and a route like his father’s to Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania.
Now, however, there was a competing dream. Not a barrier, not even a detour. A different road, but a good one.
“The prophet said it,” Mother would begin the conversation, like a dozen others already held in the kitchen. “All young men should serve a mission. You’re a young man. You should serve a mission.”
“But the openings in the military won’t wait. Or I could take that job working on cars. Or I could drive with Papa …”
“And those are better ways to spend the next two years?”
Clément would review his options, again and again and again. The chances for work were exciting, all that he’d hoped for. But the mission? It was a better thing.
He prayed. He spoke to the branch president, then the district president. He submitted his papers. One by one the obstacles to serving disappeared.
The job with cars would wait. He couldn’t get a license to drive a big rig for at least two years. He had signed a preliminary agreement with the military, but turned it down the same day his call to the Louisiana Baton Rouge Mission arrived in the mail.
Then Christine thought of another day, just last October. It was overcast, gray, cool. The heavy air smelled of rain. Papa and Clément were up early, as usual on a Monday. The big diesel engine was already throbbing, mildly vibrating the entire house.
Clément stuffed the compartment behind the cab with blankets, canned pudding, instant soup, snack food. He ran inside to get some tapes, his earphones, and a tape player.
Then he thought again, and laid them aside. This was his last trip to Mechanicsburg for two years. He and father would be talking all the way there, talking about his mission.
The stairs were steep at the south end of the terrasse, but Christine took them easily. Hours of volleyball practice had conditioned her to run, and her lungs pulled in air that was crisp and pure. She reached a narrower boardwalk, the Promenade des Gouverneurs, which stretches along the cliffs to reach the Plains of Abraham.
The French love to tell of a great struggle here, when the Chevalier de Lévis, battling to reclaim Quebec, lured the British far from the city and beat them. But those assigned to cut off the retreat failed, and the rest of the army, too tired to pursue, let the enemy escape. British reinforcements arrived soon, and what should have been a French victory turned to defeat.
Christine breathed deeply and let the air out slowly. It surprised her when she thought of a scripture: “Look unto me, and endure to the end, and ye shall live” (3 Ne. 15:9).
“Endure,” she said aloud. “Sometimes you just have to endure.” And then she was remembering again.
It was a routine, the same routine Marie Claude had followed every morning for years. Get up early and care for the animals. Feed Daisy, Belle, and Lady, the horses. Feed Fido, the bull in the barn. Feed three pigs, three sheep, two dogs, four ducks, and any other animals calling the farm home at the moment.
From upstairs, Christine heard Marie Claude come in the house and bolt the back door against the wind. She could imagine her hanging her flannel coat on the peg in the kitchen. Then she heard her pull a chair across the floor and put breakfast dishes on the table.
For as long as Christine could remember, Marie Claude got up early to take care of the animals. But today the routine was different—the movements slower, the pauses longer, the sighs heavy and audible.
And Christine knew why. Last night, Marie Claude had finally told her boyfriend good-bye. He was a decent fellow, a nice man. But he didn’t understand. He’d had the missionary discussions, even been to church a time or two. But all this religion, meetings every Sunday, marriage in a temple—for him it just wouldn’t do.
And now Marie Claude, who loved him and had dated him for a couple of years, who had argued with him before, had sent him away. She sat at the breakfast table, numb, almost crying, wrenching solace from the everyday routine.
At the end of the promenade, there’s a gazebo. To get there, Christine had to mount steps again. Quickly she bounded up them, the end of her run in sight. And as she ran, her mind flashed ahead, like a video on fast forward.
Here was Marie Claude again, but this time she was smiling. Dressed in embroidered chiffon, she sat by a cheery window in a friend’s house, holding hands with an amiable young man in a blue sweater.
It was amazing. When they laughed, it was the same laugh. The smile was the same smile. They looked like each other, they talked like each other. They both had kind eyes. You’d think they were brother and sister, not fiances.
Yet there on the table was their wedding announcement, and it really did seem like a dream come true—“C’est avec joie que nous vous annonçons notre mariage qui aura lieu au Temple de Washington, D.C., mercredi le six mai.” (It is with joy that we announce our marriage in the Washington, D.C. Temple on May 6, 1987.)
André and Marie Claude. They met at church, and fell in love quickly. But after years of struggling to feel right about something that was wrong, it was easy for Marie Claude to do something that felt so true.
At the gazebo, Christine stopped.
She thought about the family. She pictured her mother, joking with the visiting teachers, happily discussing her hobby of decorating cakes. She saw Father, smiling broadly, the proudest sacrament meeting usher the Branche de Québec has as ever had. She imagined Clément, Elder Ferland, teaching missionary lessons in broken English. And she pictured Marie Claude, in her own home as a newlywed, so happy she was almost dancing.
Then she thought of spires of white, rising from a green woodland, and she cherished the promises of eternity.
Christine looked across the ancient battlefields. The rolling hills seemed to be resting, calm now as she was calm. In the distance, a calèche, a carriage, bobbed along the folds of green. From so far away, it seemed to be in slow motion. But in the evening air, she could hear the clip-clop, clip-clop of the horse’s hooves.
She turned and looked again at the river. It was shining still, but it was no longer silver. The setting sun had turned it to gold. And the sailboat, still a silhouette, pulled up to its moorings.
Dusk was past. The time for returning was here.

In a highway accident many years ago, I sustained multiple injuries, the worst of which left me in a coma for three months. Priesthood blessings, along with the support of my family, enabled me to have what one of my doctors called “a remarkable recovery.”
But my head injuries weakened my short-term memory, and I can no longer remember my dreams. Often I awake and think, “Oh, I was dreaming,” but at that moment, the dream slips from my mind forever.

Quade waved to his friends as he walked home from school. “See you later!”
“We’re riding our bikes to the park next week. Are you going too?” James asked.
Quade’s face suddenly felt hot.
“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know yet.”
Quade hurried home. He pulled his green bike out of the garage and dusted off the seat. The tires were flat. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t even know how to ride it!
“Is everything OK?” Dad asked as he came outside.
“My friends want to ride bikes next week,” Quade said. “But I don’t know how. I’m afraid they’ll make fun of me.”
“You have a whole week to learn,” Dad said. “Do you want to start right now?”
Quade nodded.
Dad helped Quade fill his bike tires with air. Then Quade got on the bike. He gripped the handlebars so hard that his knuckles turned white.
“OK, I’ll hold you steady. You start pedaling,” said Dad.
Quade pedaled forward. But when the bike started moving, he got worried.
“This is too scary!” he said. He hopped off the bike. He took a few deep breaths. Then he got back on and tried again. But the bike felt so wobbly!
“I don’t think I can do this,” he said. “Can we ask Heavenly Father for help?”
Dad nodded. Quade folded his arms and closed his eyes.
“Dear Heavenly Father, please help me learn to ride a bike. Please help me to not be so scared. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” When Quade finished his prayer, he felt calm. He hugged Dad.
“Ready to try again?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.”
Dad helped Quade get back on his bike. Quade put his feet on the pedals. He held the handles and looked forward. Then he started to pedal.
For the first few tries, Quade couldn’t keep the bike up. But he kept trying. Finally he made it all the way to the end of the block without falling. He smiled and pumped his fist. He could ride without Dad’s help!
“I did it!” Quade said. “This is fun.”
“Awesome!” said Dad.
Quade practiced riding each day. The next week, his friends came to his house. They were all on their bikes.
“Hey, Quade,” James said. “Want to ride to the park with us?”
Quade put on his helmet. “Yeah! Thanks for inviting me!”
Quade hopped on his bike. With help from Dad and Heavenly Father, he was ready to ride!
This story took place in the USA.

Filipino Latter-day Saints and those of other faiths happily welcomed Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles when he returned to the Philippines last May 21–31 for his second apostolic ministry to the island nation. Just like his first visit as an apostle, Elder Kearon was accompanied by his wife, Sister Jennifer Kearon.
“The joy we saw on the faces of those we met was absolutely remarkable,” the apostle said, referring to what he described as his and Sister Kearon’s “wonderful visit with members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and friends of other faiths.”
As he commenced his ten-day long ministry, Elder Kearon was joined by Elder Marcus B. Nash of the Presidency of the Seventy and his wife, Shelley; and Bishop Gérard Caussé, the Church’s Presiding Bishop, and his wife, Valerie.
All three General Authorities were accompanied at different events by members of the Philippines Area presidency and their wives, namely: Elder Carlos G. Revillo Jr. and Sister Marie Revillo; Elder Chi Hong (Sam) Wong and Sister Carol Wong; and Elder Michael B. Strong and Sister Cristin Strong. Area Seventies were also on hand to assist.
Elder Kearon held area priesthood meetings, spoke at member and missionary devotionals, and met with youth, Young Single Adults (YSAs), and Primary children. He also met again with the head of the local Catholic bishops’ conference, visited with school children and marginalized people, interacted with government, community, and interfaith leaders, and was interviewed by local media.
“When I saw in my mission call that I was assigned to Japan, I was completely shocked. But after hearing Elder Kearon’s counsel, I was reminded that the Lord knows us better than we know ourselves. Despite my lack of background, it strengthened my testimony that He indeed qualifies those whom He calls.”
Sister ZafraJapan Tokyo South Mission
On Wednesday, May 21, Elder Kearon met again with Cardinal Pablo Virgilio David of the Diocese of Kalookan at San Roque Cathedral compound in Caloocan City. Together, the two faith leaders ministered to 250 parolees and former detainees participating in the diocese’s Kaagapay Ministry Project, a community-based drug rehabilitation program. Elder Kearon led in the donation of Church-published emotional resilience materials as well as food and hygiene kits to the participants.
“It was wonderful to see Cardinal David again,” Elder Kearon beamed, “he is constantly caring for those who might be forgotten.” In turn, Cardinal David expressed appreciation for Elder Kearon and the Church’s efforts: “The elders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have been our partners in our many advocacies since I was still an auxiliary bishop of San Fernando, Pampanga, and serving as parish priest of Holy Rosary Parish.”
The following day, Elder Kearon handed over a donation to Caritas Manila, the Catholic Church’s humanitarian arm, to help support its Youth Servant Leadership and Education Program (YSLEP). The donation was received by Father Anton C. T. Pascual, Executive Director of Caritas Manila.
At BYU-Pathway Worldwide Global Education Center (GEC) in Cebu City, Elder Kearon personally thanked government, education, business, and community leaders for their support of BYU–Pathway Worldwide program, a Church-sponsored initiative that provides affordable, gospel-centered higher education to young people. Elder Kearon was joined by Elder Nash and Bishop Caussé along with their wives at the leadership luncheon and was also interviewed by media representatives.
“We hope and pray that you will find us in union with you, in good causes,” Elder Kearon told the invited guests, “particularly in relation to education and community building.”
At a Focus Group Discussion the Kearons had with selected YSAs, Jhezrael Punzalan had a faith-strengthening experience. She strongly felt the Spirit as Sister Kearon reassured her of the Lord’s guidance after she expressed her fears and doubts about serving a mission. “Heavenly Father answers our questions in different and unique ways,” she affirms, “and mine came in a very special way.”
The next day, May 24, Elder Kearon, Elder Nash, and Bishop Causse conducted an Area Instruction Meeting with priesthood leaders from the Visayas region, providing inspired counsel and instruction to those gathered.
A spiritual highlight of Elder and Sister Kearon’s Cebu sojourn was when the couple climbed up a mountain to visit the Secuya family of Busay 2nd Ward, Cebu Stake. From their highland farm, the Secuyas traverse through rocky paths and streams just to reach public transportation that will take them to Church every Sunday.
“We were so happy to see Elder Kearon, he reminded us of Jesus Christ and His love,” said Mitzi Secuya, who with her family heartily welcomed the apostle and his wife. As the Kearons ministered to the family, son Ryle felt strengthened in his commitment to stay active: “We will continue to go to Church, for we know that the Lord loves us.”
“This is a beautiful memory we will have forever,” Elder Kearon imparted to the family at the conclusion of the visit. “You are beautiful, each of you,” Sister Kearon lovingly reassured the Secuya children, who had faced bullying for their situation.
“Elder Kearon told us that receiving revelation is like music. You feel it and go with it, then everything follows with regards to receiving revelation. If we don’t, then revelation will be hard to come by.”
John Tilman LeeBusay 1st Ward, Cebu City Stake
In Davao City, Elder Kearon, Elder Nash, and Bishop Caussé held another Area Instruction Meeting, this time for priesthood leaders from the Mindanao region, at the Buhangin meetinghouse.
The Kearons later interacted with some 500 YSAs during a Focus Group Discussion and devotional. “Breathe in His love and peace, breathe out all the bad stuff that don’t serve as well,” Sister Kearon felt inspired to share during the devotional. Elder Keron complemented his wife’s remark by counseling the young members not to let “your fear stop you and limit your opportunities to receive the blessings.”
After Julia Faye Lacre of Matina 2nd Ward, Davao Stake heard their messages, “it helped me exhale all the negative thoughts I had because of anxiety and fear,” and “it also reminded me of my worth in the sight of God.”
Elder and Sister Kearon had a special activity with students of Ma-a Central Elementary School, where they led in the turnover of newly installed water and electricity facilities. “This is a very special school,” Elder Kearon beamed, “we love you, and love the spirit and nature of your school.” The school compound is adjacent to the Davao Philippines Temple site.
On May 27, the Kearons were joined by Elder and Sister Strong in hosting an interfaith luncheon. “This is an event that celebrates a friendship, shared values, and a collective desire to promote peace and service,” Elder Strong highlighted as he greeted the different religious leaders gathered for the event. “Please don’t stop inviting us in every gathering you have, especially if you would like to dialogue with us,” Sultan Ubpon, chair of Islamic Studies at Ateneo de Davao University expressed in gratitude during his message.
“Elder and Sister Kearon taught me an important principle: sometimes the Lord directly shows us the answer, and other times He directs us to know the right path.”
Addison Katrin MiraflorBuhangin 2nd Ward, Buhangin Stake
Elder Nash and Elder Kearon both spoke during a devotional at the Philippines Missionary Training Center (MTC) on May 29. “As we invite them to pray and read,” Elder Nash told the missionaries about those they will be teaching, “we allow them to make a connection with Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.”
For Elder Tungpalan, “Elder Nash’s words hit my mind on how we play an important role to the lives of the people we teach.” As he thought of those he would be reaching out to in the Philippines Angeles Mission, he realized “how we play an important role in the lives of the people we teach, and that with the help of the Holy Ghost, we can make a spark in their journey towards the Savior.”
After Elder Kearon emphasized to the missionaries that “you are the message of joy that you will be bringing,” Sister Cinco was reminded of “the joy that I felt when I received the gospel, that it was a message of hope and comfort.” In her preparation to serve in Japan Tokyo South Mission, she added that the message “gave me the assurance that with the Lord, I can do all things.”
On Friday, May 30, Elder and Sister Kearon assisted Primary children in packing hygiene kits for less-fortunate children at the Las Piñas Stake Center. Elder Kearon shared that he was “very grateful to see such wonderful children showcase values of service,” and expressed hope that “more children of our church around the world are able to help and give that service to more people."
Those words brought back memories to nine-year-old Natalie Sumagpao: “I remembered that one Christmas, my family and I drove around to give food to kids on the streets. I’m grateful to be able to meet Elder and Sister Kearon, guiding us through service and bringing us closer to Jesus Christ.”
Another Primary participant, Kief Markus Tiu, felt blessed to converse with Elder Kearon, relating that “he emphasized the importance of serving others in the same way Jesus Christ did, and reminding me that Christ is the perfect example for all of us to follow.”
Later that day, Elder Kearon led a donation turnover ceremony at Elsie Gaches Village, a residential care facility for children with developmental impairments in Muntinlupa City. The Church’s generous donation included customized wheelchairs for individuals with cerebral palsy, hygiene kits, and essential supplies to support residents and staff.
The next day, Elder Kearon, Elder Nash, and Bishop Caussé, once again provided important leadership training at another Area Instruction Meeting, this time with priesthood leaders from all over the Luzon area.
Before leaving the Philippines, Elder Nash spoke to members of Valenzuela Stake during a special stake conference, touching on the importance of tithing by quoting Malachi 3:10: “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it”
The quote reminded Marifi dela Cruz, Relief Society president of Meycauayan 1st Ward, of the time her family struggled financially. “I had a daughter who was in the mission field. We promised that we would pay full support for her mission, and we were faithful in living the law of tithing,” she recounts. “Eventually, we were able to overcome our struggles and receive the promised blessings of the Lord, as He truly opened the windows of heaven.”
“Elder Kearon said that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Church of new beginnings. Heavenly Father knows that we will make mistakes; that is why we have our Savior Jesus Christ, so that we can come back to Him, no matter how many mistakes we’ve done.”
Elisha Kyle Canoy NalanganMatina 2nd Ward, Davao Stake
In addition to the events mentioned here, Elder Kearon also met with the Area Seventies and their wives, visited the Cebu and Davao temple sites, paid a courtesy visit at the Technical Education and Skills Development Authority (TESDA), and was interviewed by news portal Rappler. Elder Nash met with the mission leaders and missionaries of the Quezon City North Mission, held a My Plan conference with returned missionaries, and interacted with youth at an FSY conference in Tanay, Rizal, while Bishop Caussé toured the Alabang temple site and inspected Church facilities and production plants.

Sixteen-year-old Jenny Bales gathered her three charges and placed them around the park table to eat their lunch. Her stomach was sending hurry signals to her hands to open her own bag. Lunches were usually quiet, and after a hard morning it gave her time to think. The deep pain was still resting just past her empty stomach. She would try to understand it a little more today.
She pulled an apple from her sack and looked across the table only to see Scotty Redman staring at her, frustration wrinkling his face into a frown.
Angrily, he slapped his square-fingered hand on the park table and cried, “Make it stop, Miss Baoes! Make da win stop! I don like it. My bag bow away.”
Jenny listened to a boy a year older than her wail like a small child. She felt a small knot replace the hunger pains in her stomach. In the last two months she had worked with Down’s Syndrome children. They each had a unique personality. With Scotty, when his world tilted too far, you had to shift it back, or he cried, sulked, threw things, or sat stubbornly against the wall. In the classroom, you found the missing crayon or helped him find a project. But stopping the wind was impossible. Scotty didn’t know this, and explaining it to him wouldn’t help.
“The win bow my bag away. Make it stop right now!”
That wind won’t blow your bag away, she thought. Just sit on it. But Jenny knew that wouldn’t work either. When Scotty ate his lunch, the bag had to be on the table to the left of his food. Order. Things like they were supposed to be. That’s what he needed. She had wanted time today to think about her own pain, but she knew Scotty would not stop unless she did something.
“Make da win stop,” he said. This time fire sparked in his eyes.
“Boy, you’re stubborn,” she whispered to herself. She felt the muscles in her left shoulder tighten in defense. One of Uncle Jed’s sayings sifted into her mind: “Stubborn is just determination headed the wrong way.”
She looked across the table again. Scotty’s tongue darted down to his chin, across his lips and disappeared into his frown. His hands stayed wrapped around the top of the lunch bag. In the classroom things had order, she thought, but here the wind blew.
He slapped his chunky palms on the table again. “Make da win stop—now,” he yelled. His face turned beet red.
She hadn’t seen Scotty this disturbed before. She felt a little frightened and wondered what would happen if she couldn’t distract him or change his mind. But worse than the fear of what he might do, his stubbornness and anger grated still tender wounds. It felt too much like when Mom and Dad had separated. Six eternal months ago. Impasse. No solution. They had been stubborn. They still were.
It was plain though that Scotty wasn’t going to eat lunch unless she made the wind stop. Maybe if she said a prayer. The divorce had taught her about prayer. When her parents first separated, she almost blamed Heavenly Father for the pain she was feeling. At night she muffled her sobs with a tear-soaked pillow until she fell asleep. In the morning she was never sure if it was anger, or loss, or confusion that greeted her first. Finally, though, when it was all more than she could bear, she had learned to ask for help, and the Savior’s healing hand would touch her heart for a moment while he retrieved from some lost corner of darkness, her peace—the peace that kept slipping away, but not so fast anymore.
So, she said a silent prayer. Then she told Scotty about the new pink dress she bought last Saturday—and waited for the wind to stop. His pudgy square fingers continued their grip on the top of the lunch bag. She finished her story and looked up to see the branches moving back and forth in the gusting wind. “I didn’t think that was the kind of prayer you’d answer, Heavenly Father, but what am I supposed to do?” she muttered under her breath. Then she remembered.
Jenny stood up and walked around to Scotty’s side of the table. His eyes drew a bead on her, every step she took. She sat down next to him then reached an arm around him. “Scotty, I’ve tried to make the wind stop, and I can’t. But I can be here.” He looked back into her eyes like he really wanted to understand. “I’ll sit right by your side while the wind blows. I promise. And if it blows your sack away, I can bring it back. Together we’ll keep things in order.”
Scotty’s tongue flicked again down to his chin. His hands loosened their grip on the sack. He opened it, pulled out a peanut butter sandwich, three carrot sticks, and a chocolate chip cookie. Then he set the bag to the left of his food. The wind blew and the bag flew away three times while he ate. But every time Jenny was there and brought it back to him. And every time he put it right back where it was supposed to be.

Whatever Ricardo does, he does with enthusiasm. This eight-year-old from Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic plays baseball with the energy of a professional. He joins his friend and his brother to race toy trucks or stage an imaginary battle between dinosaurs. He gets excited when his mother invites him into the kitchen to cook tostones (fried plantains).
It takes time to make his favorite treat, tostones, but Ricardo thinks it is worth every minute. He and his mother carefully peel and slice the plantains, which look like bananas but are not sweet. They fry them in hot oil, let them cool, and carefully pat them dry. Then comes Ricardo’s favorite part. He places each slice in a wooden press and smashes it flat. Then each slice is fried again. He particularly likes to eat tostones with sausage.

When I was called as a General Authority by President Russell M. Nelson, I was flooded with emotions. It was overwhelming. My wife, Julie, and I anxiously awaited the Saturday afternoon session of general conference. It was humbling to be sustained. I carefully counted the steps to my designated seat so as not to fall in my first assignment.
At the conclusion of that session, something happened that had a profound effect on me. The quorum members formed a line and greeted the new General Authorities one by one. Each one shared their love and support. With a hearty abrazo they said, “Don’t worry—you belong.”
In our relationship with the Savior, He looks on the heart and is “no respecter of persons.” Consider how He chose His Apostles. He didn’t pay attention to status or wealth. He invites us to follow Him, and I believe He reassures us that we belong with Him.
This message especially applies to the youth of the Church. I see in you what President Nelson sees in you. He said that “there is something undeniably special about this generation of youth. Your Heavenly Father must have great confidence in you to send you to earth at this time. You were born for greatness!”
I am grateful for what I learn from the youth. I am grateful for what my children teach me, for what our missionaries teach me, and for what my nieces and nephews teach me.
Not too long ago, I was working on our farm with my nephew Nash. He is six and has a pure heart. He is my favorite nephew named Nash, and I believe I am his favorite uncle speaking in conference today.
As he helped me come up with a solution for our project, I said, “Nash, that is a great idea. How did you get so smart?” He looked at me with an expression in his eyes that said, “Uncle Ryan, how do you not know the answer to this question?”
He simply shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and confidently said, “Jesus.”
Nash reminded me that day of this simple and yet profound teaching. The answer to the simplest questions and to the most complex problems is always the same. The answer is Jesus Christ. Every solution is found in Him.

When I was little, I lived in Zwickau, Germany. My grandmother had a friend with white, flowing hair. Her name was Sister Ewig, and she invited my grandmother to church. When our family went there, we saw many children. All of us were very impressed by the families, the children, and the music, especially the singing. I felt at home right away. My whole family—except me, because I was only six years old—were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I was eight, I was baptized in a public swimming pool by my father.

“Are General Authorities human?”
I suppose this is a question that is in many minds and has been from the very beginning. It arises, in the very nature of things, because of the high regard in which we hold the offices that these Brethren are called to fill.
I recall an incident from early Church history, from the days of persecutions and difficulties. Heber C. Kimball, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, found himself in circumstances where he sought hospitality from a member of the Church, a widow woman. She offered him what she had—bread and milk—and provided a room with a bed for him. He went to retire. She thought: “Here’s my opportunity. I would like to find out [and this is, in effect, the same old question: Are General Authorities human?] I would like to find out what an Apostle says when he prays to the Lord.” So after the door was closed, she crept quietly up to it to listen. She heard Brother Kimball sit down on the bed. She heard each of his shoes fall to the floor. She heard him lean back on the bed and then utter these words: “Oh Lord, bless Heber; he is so tired.”
… This is a subject about which people often have incorrect concepts. Many people had this same question in their minds during the time of Joseph Smith. He said: “I was this morning introduced to a man from the east. After hearing my name, he remarked that I was nothing but a man, indicating by this expression, that he had supposed that a person to whom the Lord should see fit to reveal His will, must be something more than a man. He seemed to have forgotten the saying that fell from the lips of St. James, that [Elijah] was a man subject to like passions as we are, yet he had such power with God, that He, in answer to his prayers, shut the heavens that they gave no rain for the space of three years and six months; and again, in answer to his prayer, the heavens gave forth rain, and the earth gave forth fruit [see James 5:17–18]. Indeed, such is the darkness and ignorance of this generation, that they look upon it as incredible that a man should [speak] with his Maker.”

On the way home from church, Anna remembered the little slip of paper her teacher had given her. “Mom, guess what! I’m giving a talk in Primary next Sunday.”
“That’s great,” Mom said. “On what?”
“I have to talk about the Restoration. But I’m not sure what that is.”
“Restoration means that God brought back, or restored, everything He wants His Church to have,” Mom said. “Through the Prophet Joseph Smith, He brought back temples, the priesthood, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. Without the Restoration, we wouldn’t have the Church!”
Anna nodded. “I guess that makes sense. But I don’t think I can explain it like you did.”
“Hey, I have an idea,” Mom said as they got home. “Come with me.”
Anna followed Mom to the family room. They had started a puzzle last night, and the pieces were still spread out on a small table.
“Think of the gospel like a finished puzzle.” Mom picked up a piece. “Many pieces of the picture were on the earth at different times. But after Jesus and the Apostles died, many gospel truths were lost or changed. Those pieces of truth needed to be brought back.”
“So then what happened?” Anna shuffled some of the loose pieces.
“Many years later God called a young farm boy to bring all the pieces back and put them together like when Jesus was on the earth. Who do you think that was?”
“Joseph Smith!” Anna said, smiling. “I think I’m starting to get it.” She and Mom talked more about Joseph Smith and the different pieces of the gospel that God brought back through him.
The rest of the week, Anna wrote and practiced her talk. She prayed to Heavenly Father that she could be brave and share her message in Primary.
On Sunday, when it was time for Anna’s talk, she stood up, took a deep breath, and held up a puzzle on a board so everyone could see. All the pieces were together in the puzzle.
“A long time ago, many of the important pieces of the gospel were on the earth. When Jesus and His Apostles died, some pieces got lost.” Anna took some pieces out of the puzzle and set them down. “Then Heavenly Father and Jesus called Joseph Smith as a prophet to bring back the missing pieces of the gospel. This is called the Restoration.” She picked up a puzzle piece to show the Primary. On the back were the words “Priesthood power.”
Then Anna showed the rest of the pieces. She read the back of each piece before she put it in its spot in the puzzle. “A living prophet … twelve Apostles … temple work for eternal families … baptism by immersion … laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
Anna held up the finished puzzle. “Now we have all the pieces of the gospel. That means we can see the big picture of how we can be happy and live with Heavenly Father again someday. I am grateful for the Restoration. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

I hate going to the doctor. I always dread the fuss, the wait time, the shots, the orders to “take it easy.” When I was really little, I thought nurses and doctors were just mean people who thought I was a pin cushion, but as I got older I figured out they weren’t evil; they were helping. And I almost always felt better soon after seeing them. No matter how boring the waiting room was, how much I yelped getting a shot, or how disappointed I was when the doctor told me I needed to stay off my feet, in the end, it was always worth it.

I came across a Personal Progress goal that motivated me to get started on my family tree. Whenever I went to my grandparents’ for lunch, they told me stories from their lives and from those of my other relatives. I began going to the family history center and gathering information about my family.

Through my research, I became even closer to my grandparents, and I came to know my ancestors as if I had lived with them. I found information about my ancestors, shared the glad tidings of eternal sealing, and helped bless many generations.

I continue to discover hidden treasures thanks to FamilySearch.org. I love what President Thomas S. Monson said: “I testify that when we do all we can to accomplish the work that is before us, the Lord will make available to us the sacred key needed to unlock the treasure which we so much seek” (“The Key of Faith,” Ensign, Feb. 1994, 5). Through our efforts, we will discover the keys to our eternal treasure, and one day we will be able to meet our ancestors in person.

Just over a year ago, I was interviewed by the Church News prior to my birthday. At the conclusion of the interview, the reporter asked what I would consider the ideal gift that members worldwide could give to me. I replied, “Find someone who is having a hard time or is ill or lonely, and do something for him or her.”10
I was overwhelmed when this year for my birthday I received hundreds of cards and letters from members of the Church around the world telling me how they had fulfilled that birthday wish. The acts of service ranged from assembling humanitarian kits to doing yard work.
Dozens and dozens of Primaries challenged the children to provide service, and then those acts of service were recorded and sent to me. I must say that the methods for recording them were creative. Many came in the form of pages put together into various shapes and sizes of books. Some contained cards or pictures drawn or colored by the children. One very creative Primary sent a large jar containing hundreds of what they called “warm fuzzies,” each one representing an act of service performed during the year by one of the children in the Primary. I can only imagine the happiness these children experienced as they told of their service and then placed a “warm fuzzy” in the jar.
I share with you just a few of the countless notes contained in the many gifts I received. One small child wrote, “My grandpa had a stroke, and I held his hand.” From an 8-year-old girl: “My sister and I served my mom and family by organizing and cleaning the toy closet. It took us a few hours and we had fun. The best part was that we surprised my mom and made her happy because she didn’t even ask us to do it.” An 11-year-old girl wrote: “There was a family in my ward that did not have a lot of money. They have three little girls. The mom and dad had to go somewhere, so I offered to watch the three girls. The dad was just about to hand me a $5 bill. I said, ‘I can’t take [it].’ My service was that I watched the girls for free.” A Primary child in Mongolia wrote that he had brought in water from the well so his mother would not have to do so. From a 4-year-old boy, no doubt written by a Primary teacher: “My dad is gone for army training for a few weeks. My special job is to give my mom hugs and kisses.” Wrote a 9-year-old girl: “I picked strawberries for my great-grandma. I felt good inside!” And another: “I played with a lonely kid.”
From an 11-year-old boy: “I went to a lady’s house and asked her questions and sang her a song. It felt good to visit her. She was happy because she never gets visitors.” Reading this particular note reminded me of words penned long ago by Elder Richard L. Evans of the Quorum of the Twelve. Said he: “It is difficult for those who are young to understand the loneliness that comes when life changes from a time of preparation and performance to a time of putting things away. … To be so long the center of a home, so much sought after, and then, almost suddenly to be on the sidelines watching the procession pass by—this is living into loneliness. … We have to live a long time to learn how empty a room can be that is filled only with furniture. It takes someone … beyond mere hired service, beyond institutional care or professional duty, to thaw out the memories of the past and keep them warmly living in the present. … We cannot bring them back the morning hours of youth. But we can help them live in the warm glow of a sunset made more beautiful by our thoughtfulness … and unfeigned love.”11
My birthday cards and notes came also from teenagers in Young Men and Young Women classes who made blankets for hospitals, served in food pantries, were baptized for the dead, and performed numerous other acts of service.
Relief Societies, where help can always be found, provided service above and beyond that which they would normally have given. Priesthood groups did the same.
My brothers and sisters, my heart has seldom been as touched and grateful as it was when Sister Monson and I literally spent hours reading of these gifts. My heart is full now as I speak of the experience and contemplate the lives which have been blessed as a result, for both the giver and the receiver.

• Moscow, Russia, Monday, June 24: The third “Music and the Spoken Word” performance is videotaped during this evening’s Bolshoi Theatre concert before 2,400, seated three-deep in the five circular balcony tiers of this renowned hall. For many, another rich, emotional evening occurs, the same as at all concerts in the former Eastern Bloc lands. Hope and the Spirit of the Lord seem to press everywhere!
The first encore, “Hospodi Pomilui” (meaning “Lord, have mercy on us”), a hymn during which that phrase is repeated seventy-seven times, seems this night to be as a great prayer of national penance in this land that has been seen by many as a symbol of oppression. The choir’s great, emotional pleading of the words powerfully moves the entire audience.
At the dinner of state held after the concert, the vice president of the Russian Republic announces that on May 28, less than a month ago, this largest of the fifteen republics in the Soviet Union has given official recognition to the Church throughout the entire breadth and depth of the republic, which covers three-quarters of the land mass of the Soviet Union and holds approximately 150 million people.
Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve joins the choir entourage, enlarged this day by the hundred or more Utahns joining Brother Jon M. Huntsman in the dedication of a factory in Armenia that will produce high-tech concrete to house homeless Armenians suffering from a 1988 earthquake. In appreciation for the service the Church rendered to quake victims, a plot of land in the city of Yerevan is given to the Church by officials of the Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic. Elder Russell M. Nelson and Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve and Elder Hans B. Ringger of the Seventy express gratitude for the gift. The site will be used to construct a multipurpose building containing offices, a Church meetinghouse, and residences for Church volunteer workers helping to train Armenians in home construction.
• St. Petersburg, Russia, Thursday, June 27: How is it possible for the emotional, spiritual, and musical highs to keep on going! Tonight six encores are performed to a cheering, crying audience! For the second time, an audience will not stop clapping until the last choir member has walked offstage, audience and choir members poignantly waving good-bye to each other.
“Wonderful! Wonderful! Spiritual! Spiritual! Leningrad is happy again! This is a holiday,” calls out a man in strongly Russian-accented English. The concerts are now over. But a day remains for visiting new Russian friends and tomorrow’s closing fireside of choir music and the testimonies of Russian converts. Elder Nelson tells the choir: “You have been totally successful in all we expected you to do.”

Their first stop in India was Edwin’s brother’s house. Edwin’s parents and siblings were there too. Right away, Edwin and Elsie started teaching them. Their family was happy to learn about the gospel.
A few weeks later, Edwin and his family gathered around the swimming pool in his brother’s yard. The pool had been cleaned, painted, and filled with fresh water. Everyone was wearing white. The women wore flowing saris that draped over their shoulders. The men wore loose Indian-style jackets and trousers.
Edwin stood in the pool with his father. “Samuel David,” Edwin said, “having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
Edwin felt happy as he baptized his father. He felt even happier when he baptized his mom next. By the end of the day, Edwin had baptized 18 people!
The next day, Edwin and Elsie rode a train for six hours. They visited more family members and taught them about the gospel. Edwin baptized four more of his relatives in a nearby river.
Finally, Edwin and Elsie took a 16-hour train ride to visit Elsie’s parents. Elsie’s father was a leader in another church. He didn’t get baptized, but he thought the Book of Mormon was a good book. He helped translate the Book of Mormon into Telugu, one of the languages spoken in India.
When Edwin and Elsie finished their mission, there were enough new members to start one of the first branches of the Church in India! Edwin and Elsie were happy when they returned to Samoa. They were grateful Heavenly Father had sent them on a mission!

I had a letter only a few days ago from a man in Edinburgh, Scotland. His name is George Stewart. He’ll be surprised at my mentioning this, but he wanted to thank me because when he was 15 years old (some 40 years ago), I was presiding over the mission in Scotland. He wanted to thank me for the missionaries’ coming to their home in Thornliebank, one of the areas of Glasgow. He had joined the Church along with his mother.
He said that as he developed a testimony of the Book of Mormon, as he started reading it and as he kept reading it, he couldn’t put it down because he knew it was true. He kept reading and reading and developing a testimony of the gospel as a young man. He told how he used to come over to the mission home and how we were kind to him and we would spend time with the young people because they were getting into Mutual, which we were starting in the branches.
Then he told of the blessings that had come into his life as a young man, that he had met his sweetheart in that little branch—his wife—and that they were married and that they had four children: a son who had finished a mission in the Washington D.C. Mission; a son who served in the England Leeds Mission; a daughter who was married in the temple; and one who is waiting for the return of a missionary. He voiced gratitude for all of the blessings that had come into his life and the lives of his sons who have been on missions and his daughters.
During the past 40 years, he has served as a bishop four times in four different units, and his wife has served as a Relief Society president on three occasions. He is currently serving as a counselor in the Edinburgh stake presidency. He said, “And I’m going to be retiring very shortly from the company I’m with. I’ve done very well, and we plan to go out on a mission together.”
Then he said these words to me: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.” Let me say that again: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.”
And he says the gospel came into his life, to his wife, to all of his children, and to their children. The grandchildren are active in the Church, and he and his wife now have a great desire to go out into the world when they retire from their profession.

Last year’s Mutual theme, “Arise and Shine Forth,” reminded me of a girl I went to high school with named Lisa. She was a cheerleader. It was a large school, and I didn’t know her well.

One Saturday night I went to a farewell party for Lisa and her younger sister, who were moving to Idaho. Some kids were drinking alcohol, and they repeatedly offered beer to Lisa and her sister. I even heard one person shout, “Come on, just one drink! It’s your party, just one drink for us!”

But Lisa and her sister both refused the drinks. They just smiled and said no. I thought being a popular cheerleader meant that you did the “popular” thing—drink. I wasn’t a member of the Church then, but their strength and courage surprised me.

To demonstrate the kind of inner strength I am talking about, I would like to share the story of Susanna Stone Lloyd, who at the age of 26 left England in 1856 and traveled to Utah alone. The only member of her family to join the Church, Susanna was a member of the Willie Handcart Company. Like so many other pioneers, she endured life-threatening hunger, illness, and fatigue.
Upon arriving in the Salt Lake Valley, Susanna borrowed a mirror to make herself more presentable. Despite her best efforts, she recounts: “I shall never forget how I looked. Some of my old friends did not know me.” Having sold her own mirror to an Indian for a piece of buffalo meat, she had not spent much time looking at herself. Now she did not recognize her own image. She was a different person, both inside and out. Over the course of rocky ridges and extreme hardship came a deep conviction. Her faith had been tried, and her conversion was concrete. She had been refined in ways that the very best mirror could not reflect. Susanna had prayed for strength and found it—deep within her soul.
No matter our circumstances, who of us can afford to waste our life in front of the mirrors of self-pity and discouragement? Yes, as the Apostle Paul admonished, we all need to “examine ourselves” from time to time. We all need to repent, to recognize weaknesses, and more fully come unto Christ. Like Susanna, we may have to sell our looking glass in order to cross the plains of pain, sorrow, and discouragement. But as we do, we will discover God-given strengths that we may not have otherwise known.

I share with you an account of one family which was able to find blessings in the midst of serious challenges. This is an account I read many years ago and have kept because of the message it conveys. It was written by Gordon Green and appeared in an American magazine over 50 years ago.
Gordon tells how he grew up on a farm in Canada, where he and his siblings had to hurry home from school while the other children played ball and went swimming. Their father, however, had the capacity to help them understand that their work amounted to something. This was especially true after harvesttime when the family celebrated Thanksgiving, for on that day their father gave them a great gift. He took an inventory of everything they had.
On Thanksgiving morning he would take them to the cellar with its barrels of apples, bins of beets, carrots packed in sand, and mountains of sacked potatoes as well as peas, corn, string beans, jellies, strawberries, and other preserves which filled their shelves. He had the children count everything carefully. Then they went out to the barn and figured how many tons of hay there were and how many bushels of grain in the granary. They counted the cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys, and geese. Their father said he wanted to see how they stood, but they knew he really wanted them to realize on that feast day how richly God had blessed them and had smiled upon all their hours of work. Finally, when they sat down to the feast their mother had prepared, the blessings were something they felt.
Gordon indicated, however, that the Thanksgiving he remembered most thankfully was the year they seemed to have nothing for which to be grateful.
The year started off well: they had leftover hay, lots of seed, four litters of pigs, and their father had a little money set aside so that someday he could afford to buy a hay loader—a wonderful machine most farmers just dreamed of owning. It was also the year that electricity came to their town—although not to them because they couldn’t afford it.
One night when Gordon’s mother was doing her big wash, his father stepped in and took his turn over the washboard and asked his wife to rest and do her knitting. He said, “You spend more time doing the wash than sleeping. Do you think we should break down and get electricity?” Although elated at the prospect, she shed a tear or two as she thought of the hay loader that wouldn’t be bought.
So the electrical line went up their lane that year. Although it was nothing fancy, they acquired a washing machine that worked all day by itself and brilliant lightbulbs that dangled from each ceiling. There were no more lamps to fill with oil, no more wicks to cut, no more sooty chimneys to wash. The lamps went quietly off to the attic.
The coming of electricity to their farm was almost the last good thing that happened to them that year. Just as their crops were starting to come through the ground, the rains started. When the water finally receded, there wasn’t a plant left anywhere. They planted again, but more rains beat the crops into the earth. Their potatoes rotted in the mud. They sold a couple of cows and all the pigs and other livestock they had intended to keep, getting very low prices for them because everybody else had to do the same thing. All they harvested that year was a patch of turnips which had somehow weathered the storms.
Then it was Thanksgiving again. Their mother said, “Maybe we’d better forget it this year. We haven’t even got a goose left.”
On Thanksgiving morning, however, Gordon’s father showed up with a jackrabbit and asked his wife to cook it. Grudgingly she started the job, indicating it would take a long time to cook that tough old thing. When it was finally on the table with some of the turnips that had survived, the children refused to eat. Gordon’s mother cried, and then his father did a strange thing. He went up to the attic, got an oil lamp, took it back to the table, and lighted it. He told the children to turn out the electric lights. When there was only the lamp again, they could hardly believe that it had been that dark before. They wondered how they had ever seen anything without the bright lights made possible by electricity.
The food was blessed, and everyone ate. When dinner was over, they all sat quietly. Wrote Gordon:
“In the humble dimness of the old lamp we were beginning to see clearly again. …
“It [was] a lovely meal. The jack rabbit tasted like turkey and the turnips were the mildest we could recall. …
“… [Our] home … , for all its want, was so rich [to] us.”13

Some years ago, a man knocked on my office door late at night and said, “President, may I speak to you? Are we all alone?” I assured him no one else was in the office. We sat across the corner of the desk, and he said, “Four times I have driven over to the stake office and have seen your light on, and four times I have driven back home without coming in. But,” he continued, “last night I was reading in The Miracle of Forgiveness again, and I realized that every major transgression must be confessed. I have come to confess a transgression. I have been on two high councils and have served as a bishop twice, and I believe the Lord called me.”
I agreed, “I’m sure he called you.”
He said, “Forty-two years ago, before my wife and I were married, we committed fornication once, the week prior to our going to the temple. We did not lie to the bishop, who was my wife’s father; he simply talked with us and signed our recommends. We then went to the stake president, and he did not interview us. He signed our recommends, and we went to the temple unworthily. While we were on our honeymoon,” he continued, “we decided to make it up to the Lord. We decided we would pay more than our share of tithing and more than our share of building fund; we would accept every assignment to the welfare farm and do all else we were asked to do. We decided we were not worthy to go to the temple, and we did not go for a year. It has been forty-two years since the transgression, and we have lived as near Christlike lives as we know how. I believe we have been forgiven, but I know that confession is necessary.”
Then he quoted from 2 Nephi 9:41, which states, “Behold, the way for man is narrow, but it lieth in a straight course before him, and the keeper of the gate is the Holy One of Israel; and he employeth no servant there; and there is none other way save it be by the gate; for he cannot be deceived, for the Lord God is his name.”
Then he said, “I would rather confess to you now. I am not a young man, and I do not have a lot of years left. I want to be able to meet my Savior with nothing left undone.”
I listened to his confession. I wept with him, and when he finished the confession, I told him on behalf of the Church that he was forgiven. He need not discuss it, think about it, or be concerned about it anymore. I told him never to mention it to me again, for I would not remember it and had no desire to. To this day, I cannot remember who it was, although I do remember the case.
We got up and walked to the door together. I said, “Where is your wife?”
He said, “She is in the car.”
I asked, “Is she coming in?”
He replied, “No, she can’t even think about it except it almost destroys her.”
I said, “You tell your wife that I would like to visit with her now. Tell her I want to take this off her heart and close it. Tell her I know what it was that was done, and I will close it, and it need not be opened again. Tell her I will make it as easy as possible for her.”
He said, “I’ll tell her, but I don’t think she will come in.”
I answered, “You tell her that if I have to sit here all night, I will not go home until she comes in. I can’t bear the thought of her carrying this on her heart one more day in this life; forty-two years is long enough.”
He said, “Well, I’ll tell her, but I don’t think she’ll come in.”
He left and was gone fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, and forty-five minutes. I was tempted to check the parking lot to see if they had gone home. I resisted; then I heard a timid knock at the door. I went to the door, and there was this sweet woman standing there. Her eyes were wet from crying. She had probably told her husband she couldn’t come in. He had insisted, telling her I would stay there all night. Finally, forty-five minutes later, she was at the door. I took her by both hands and led her across the room. I sat across the corner of the desk, and then I said, “Your husband confessed to a transgression that happened over forty-two years ago of which you were a part. I want to make it easy for you. I know what the transgression is. Every major transgression must be confessed. You tell me, and I will take it off your heart.”
It was like pulling wild horses to get a confession. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, she confessed. I wept; she wept. I told her it was closed and that I wouldn’t remember it and for her to forget it and close it. Then I stood up and put my arm through hers and we walked down the long hallway to the parking lot. When we got just about to the door, I said, “How do you feel?”
She stopped, looked up at me and, with tears in her eyes, and said, “President, I feel clean for the first time in forty-two years.”