Gospel Story Finder

When the car was ready to go, we started on our way again, slowly, down the coast. A short time later we saw two young Mexican parents and their two toddlers standing next to a car with a mangled tire. Our opportunity to help had come sooner than I expected.
We spoke with them and offered to take them to their home a few miles down the road. They gratefully accepted and piled into the back seat.
Two dusty little hands plunged into our box of crackers as we bumped along that rocky dirt road in the Mexican desert. Now seven people were crammed into the minivan, along with a cooler, two surfboards, camping gear, and a pile of oily towels.
As the toddlers eagerly devoured the last cracker crumbs and we joked with their parents, I realized that this was what helping was all about. It didn’t matter how much it cost the man to give us the epoxy or how far out of our way we went to take the family home. We all knew we had done the right thing, and the feeling was worth more than anything in the world.

As a young Primary boy, I learned that Heber J. Grant was truly a great man. He served as president of the Church from 1918 to 1945 and was ordained an apostle at age 25. In general conference in April 2000, President James E. Faust used examples from President Grant’s life in his talk “The Power of Self-Mastery”:
Part of [President Grant’s] strength was his great determination for self-mastery. His father died when he was only a year old, and his widowed mother struggled to raise him. He was conscientious in helping her and trying to take care of her.1
President Faust quoted Roderick L. Cameron’s description of Heber J. Grant’s struggle to become proficient playing baseball:
When he was older and wanted to join a baseball team, he found the other fellows laughing at him and calling him a “sissy” because he could not throw the ball between the bases. His teammates teased him so much that one night he went home and made up his mind that he was going to play with the nine who would win the championship of the Territory of Utah. He purchased a baseball and practiced hour after hour, throwing at a neighbor’s old barn. Often his arm would ache so much he could hardly go to sleep at night. He kept on practicing, and kept on improving and advancing from one team to another until he finally did succeed in playing with the [team] who won the championship!

You can learn to look at a sibling’s behavior in a different way. Butch loved to tease, and his pet name for his younger sister was “Brutus.” His sister’s earliest memory of this name is a tape recording:

“Hi. My name is Katie Ald—”
“Brutus.”
“Butch. My name is Katie—”
“Brutus!”
“Stop it!”
“I’m calling the dog.”
“My name is—”
“Brutus!”

Katie’s entire child and teenage life was haunted by this name. With the encouragement of her parents, she ignored it as much as she could and when she couldn’t, she pretended it was meant as a compliment, a term of endearment. By the time her brother left on his mission, it really was an affectionate nickname. This is called reframing. Katie learned to look at the name in a different way.

Butch wishes he hadn’t waited until his mission to establish a friendship with Katie. “I missed my whole family at first, but it was ‘Brutus’ that I missed my whole mission. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

But Tavita excelled not only because of his love for the sports, but because he taught himself strict discipline. That discipline helped him learn Cantonese while still preparing to enter the Hong Kong Mission. “When I got my call to Hong Kong, my next thought was, ‘What is a 120-kilo Samoan going to do there?” But I knew that was where Heavenly Father wanted me to serve.”
At the beginning, Tavita had difficulty learning the language. It was frustrating to not be able to communicate his strong feelings about the gospel. “Through patience and prayer I learned to endure. The relationship between my Heavenly Father and me grew closer, more than I ever thought it could. My knees literally had calluses on them.”
Patience and long-suffering helped him succeed on his mission. These attributes have continued to help him succeed in his college studies and football career. During high school, he thought he had to prove something. But now all he feels he needs to prove is his worthiness to his Heavenly Father.

Our daughter’s family dealt with a serious medical challenge, and dinners from kind neighbors were arranged. The first night, a hot pot of chicken noodle soup arrived, with a side of warm chocolate chip cookies. The next afternoon, friends dropped off lunch—chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies. And that night, yes, chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies was the dinner of choice provided by another good Samaritan. And the next night—you guessed it—another pot of chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies arrived for dinner.
This isn’t just a funny story about chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies. It’s a story of caring for a sister and her family in need. With each spoonful of soup and bite of chocolate chip cookie, our daughter and her family felt loved and supported. Each pot of soup and plate of cookies was made from a different recipe unique to each sister. Isn’t that the way we are in our service? We reach out in our own uniqueness, with our own ways and personally inspired recipes. We don’t get hung up on what to do; we just do it.

I am reminded of one of my favorite movies. The movie is a story of a man that not only understood his place but understood the ability and potential of others. The movie is titled "Stand and Deliver." This movie is the story of Jaime Escalante who quit his job as a computer programmer to teach math at an inner city high school in Los Angeles. All of the people around the students in his class, teachers, parents, other students, even the students themselves, had already concluded that Mr. Escalante's students were going nowhere and did not have a chance in life--much less in school. Mr. Escalante did not buy into this belief and worked with all his strength to teach the students math up to and including Calculus. He helped them, worked with them during the summer, came in early, stayed late, and in the end prepared them for the advance placement test. Just before they were to take the test, one of the students asked him if he was worried that they would mess up on the test. Mr. Escalante, having a greater understanding of what his students could become, told the student that he was not worried about the test tomorrow. He was worried about their whole lives. Mr. Escalante understood the potential of those students even when they did not. He gave everything he had to work with them and help them achieve that potential.

A six- or seven-year-old boy in the car parked ahead of you turns and sticks his tongue out at you. What should you do?
This happened to Elder Wayne S. Peterson of the Seventy while he was waiting in his car. What do you think he did? Elder Peterson remembered how important it is to choose the right. He said, “I waved at the little boy. He stuck his tongue out at me again. I smiled and waved again. This time he waved back. Soon he was joined … by a little brother and sister. [When their car] pulled away, my newfound friends continued to wave for as long as I could see them.”*
Elder Peterson chose to show his faith in Jesus Christ by following His teachings. The Savior taught, “Therefore, all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (3 Ne. 14:12). Elder Peterson felt good as the car drove away, because he had chosen the right.

Searching for a great idea for a youth conference? The Aurora Colorado Stake has a suggestion.
Work.
Now just a minute. Before you stop reading, maybe we ought to define that a little bit.
Hard work.
Like shoveling gravel, digging dirt, weeding, painting, washing cars. You know, just the sort of thing you live for on a hot summer day.
Fun.
All right, all right. There’s an explanation. See, the kids from Aurora wanted to do something different for their youth conference, something grand. So they spent three days cleaning up a city.
It’s true.
“We asked the stake youth committee what they wanted to do,” explained Richard C. Humpherys, second counselor in the stake presidency. “They said, ’something to help someone else,’ and something to build our testimonies.’ Since they asked for it, we took them up on it.”
Inspired by a story in the New Era special issue on service (see March 1988, p. 46), the youth committee looked around for a community they could help. They settled on Granby for three reasons: it was nearby; a slumping economy had hit the area hard; and the mayor, town council, and chamber of commerce seemed genuinely interested in providing projects for the youth to work on.
There was an added benefit, too. The small LDS branch in Granby, with a total of five active families, had a youth program that would love some company. In fact, while the youth from Aurora were there, they could help paint the Granby chapel.
Great entertainment, right?
Buses left Aurora at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. By 10:30 A.M., 84 young people divided into eight teams were scurrying all over Granby. Since they were all wearing identical T-shirts, they were fairly conspicuous. And a local radio station advertising the LDS youth’s free car wash also let people know who they were and what they were doing.
“We went into a store to buy some pop,” said Andy Clapton, 18, who had been shoveling gravel all morning at the train depot. “The clerk said, ‘Are you the Mormon kids? You’re doing a great job.’”
“Lots of people have asked what we’re doing,” said Sandra Hilborne, 15, as she leveled out tree bark in a planter box on Main Street. “We tell them we’re helping others and having fun at the same time.”
And that, really, is what began to happen.
“I wasn’t very excited at first,” said Liza Zmolek, 14. “But then I saw people watching us. I felt like somebody was counting on me, so I started working hard, and it felt good.”
Angelica Velez, 15, wiped her forehead, then smiled. “When we first got to the cemetery,” she said, “you couldn’t even see the tombstones. Then we brought in lawnmowers and weed whackers and raked it up and carried out a lot of wood. Now it looks nice.”
Ginny Stafford, 14, spent the morning on her knees, pulling weeds till her fingers were stained green. She said out loud what a lot of people were feeling: “It’s dirty work, but when you’re done, you feel happy, not dirty.”
Besides sprucing up Main Street, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
“I thought that was neat,” said Daphne Motto, 17. “It didn’t matter that it’s not an LDS church. It’s like we were saying, we’re all brothers and sisters and we need to help each other.”
And of course, that’s very much what the youth were saying over at the LDS chapel.
“It was kind of scary when two full buses drove up,” said Corey Trial, 13, one of four active LDS teens from Granby.
“I’ve lived here all my life,” said Mark Bickmore, 14, “I’d never seen that many kids before with the same religion as me.”
Soon Ray Beaty, 16, of Granby, was working side by side with Aurora youth he’d met only that morning. “We get lonely up here, and sometimes we think we’re all alone. But working together like this, I think we’ve formed some friendships that will last.”
And Vickie Adams, 13, the only Granby girl active in Young Women, said, “I’m not used to this many people. It helps me feel like there are other Mormons around.”
The Granby youth and the youth from Aurora did everything at the conference together, not only the service projects, but the other activities as well. They played volleyball together. They played football together. They even played soccer with an oversized ball.
Other activities included a luau with a floor show, a swimming party, and a dance. But the main activity was conversation, a sharing of ideals and fellowship.
“I found out the Church is a lot smaller here,” said Fred Tanquary, 17. “I mean, there are only four kids in the branch. But I think we all had the gospel in common, and they just became a part of us.”
Over the three-day period, the youth from Granby and the youth from Aurora grew comfortable discussing common goals—missionary work, reading and sharing the Book of Mormon, morality and standards, maintaining faith when the world’s full of doubt. That closeness was also reinforced at nightly devotionals, where leaders stressed themes such as “Little Decisions Made Now Have Big Consequences Later,” “Gospel Tips on How to Be Happy,” and “Your Most Important Possession is Your Testimony.”
But of course, as it always is, the final meeting of the conference was the highlight. In a sunlit room at the YMCA of the Rockies, the LDS youth met Granby’s mayor, Jerry Roberts. They presented him with framed historical photos of Granby, and with a Book of Mormon, which they hope he will read. They listened while he expressed the community’s gratitude.
Then the youth and their leaders spent an hour or two talking to each other, speaking from the heart.
One young man who has been struggling to keep the commandments told the rest of the group they had helped him.
“I’ve known for a long time that I need to change some things,” he said. “And being here has helped me see how happy you can be just doing what’s right. I’m making a change. I’m starting over.”
Darla Evans, 17, said she thought it was great to do something at a youth conference besides entertain yourself. “Even the pioneer trek we went on last year—it was challenging, but it was still just for us. This has all been for other people.”
Another young man, a priest, said that he’d only been active in the Church for a year. “This is the only youth conference I’ve ever been to,” he said. “But I’ve really felt the Spirit here.”
Others, like Holly Mattison, 16, talked about living the gospel in a high school where, as a Latter-day Saint, she’s outnumbered. “It’s not always easy,” she said. “There are lots of challenges.” But she said a talk at one of the devotionals reminded her that the Savior loves her, that he knows her by name and will help her to be strong.
Of course, as they talked, the youth also offered an evaluation. “If my mom had asked me to do the same thing in my backyard, I know I wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” said Adriana Velez, 17. “In fact, before we left, I told one of my friends what we were doing, and she said, ‘My parents would never make me do that!’”
Then the president of the Granby Branch, Gary M. Cooper, spoke.
“The branch was formed 15 years ago,” he said, “and I can honestly say that this is the neatest thing that’s ever happened to us. We appreciate that you took the time to come up here and bring us into the limelight in our community. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. You did a lot of work and you cleaned up the community, and that’s important. But what I really hope is that because of your example, someone will accept the gospel. That would be the greatest service of all.”
The Aurora Colorado Stake hasn’t been around that long. It was formed when another stake divided, several months before the Aurora youth went to Granby. Before the stake was divided, the planned youth conference was a river trip. When plans for three days of hard labor in Granby were announced, some of the youth thought they were losing out.
But talk to the youth now, and they’ll rattle on and on about their “service conference.”
You know—the time when they went to Granby, where they learned that work can be a lot of fun.

Brother Ashton served a full-time mission in the Peru Lima South Mission. His decision to serve was influenced by a good friend who felt prompted to tell him he needed to serve a mission. As his friend expressed his feelings, Brian felt the Spirit’s confirmation. On his mission he was struggling with some significant health challenges when he was called to serve as president of a large branch. During this time, he prayed fervently and continually to Heavenly Father for help. “I learned to rely on Him, and He came through for me,” he said. “Learning to trust Him has made all the difference.”

“My team was privileged to work in San Lorenzo, a little village with just a handful of members. About five women and their children came to our lessons every Tuesday and Thursday, and even though their numbers were few, we felt their eagerness to learn. We met for classes in a humble room made of four brick walls covered by a large blanket, part of the home of Carmen and her husband Antonio. It wasn’t long before we realized that Carmen’s family needed our help. Of the 14 children born into the family only six had lived more than a year.
“Little Socorro, the youngest daughter, did not run and laugh like most three-year-olds but would sit quietly in our laps or stand solemnly and watch the other children play. Carmen told us that the child would not eat and she was sick much of the time. We tried to teach Carmen as simply as possible some very basic rules of sanitation and nutrition so that she could improve her family’s health. Our lessons covered the importance of boiling water to purify it, washing hands before eating or preparing food, and eating foods every day from each of the basic food groups. For a long time we couldn’t tell if Carmen was really using what we taught her. Then one day during our third week in the village, we asked her to help us with a demonstration on baby food. As she picked up the fork to begin, she hesitated and said, ‘Wait, I haven’t washed my hands yet.’ Such a tiny incident, but we were thrilled to know that one small principle we had taught had actually taken root.
“On our last day Carmen fed five of us a delicious stew of beef and vegetables; we knew she could rarely afford to buy this kind of meat for her own family. We were overwhelmed by such a sacrifice and so grateful for the blessing of those four weeks in the village, for as teachers we had truly learned more than we had taught.”
Laurie JohnsonSalt Lake City, Utah

Mom and Dad have called Hannah and her siblings for a family meeting.
Our Church leaders have asked us to prepare for emergencies. But we don’t have much extra money. We’ll have to make a sacrifice.
We’re giving up cereal for one month. We’ll use the money to buy supplies. OK?
What will we eat for breakfast?
Oatmeal! We have lots in our food storage.
Oatmeal? Blegh!
The next morning
Try mixing something in. I like raisins in mine.
*sigh* OK …
Day 1: Raisins
Gross!
Day 2: Banana
Yuck!
Day 3: Coconut
Ew!
Day 4: Berries
Nope!
Try this. It has apples, cinnamon, and brown sugar. It tastes like apple pie!
Mmm, that’s good! I’m having this tomorrow too.
I bought first aid supplies for our emergency kits yesterday. Thanks for being good sports. I know giving up your favorite cereal was a sacrifice.
I guess all this gloppy oatmeal was worth it.
Besides, it’s not so bad after all!

Finally, I would like to tell you how my wife and I ended up here in beautiful Laie. A little over a year ago, I had decided to start to look for another job in the Salt Lake area near where we lived. I had worked for the same company for over 12 years and felt like it was time for a change. We were very comfortable in our home, our ward and had no intentions to move. The job market was good in Salt Lake and I started looking for another opportunity.

One night as I was watching the Utah Jazz game on TV an email came to me. I opened it up and it had a job listing for an HR Director at BYU Hawaii. I laughed and said to myself wouldn’t that be a great job. Especially with a foot of snow in our yard. But we wanted to stay in Salt Lake so I quickly deleted the email and finished watching the game. A few weeks went by and I did not give it another thought until I received a second email with the same BYU Hawaii job listing. This time I opened up the job posting and looked at it more closely. However, I still thought it was a huge long shot but I went ahead and applied on-line which only took me a few minutes. After I had finished applying, I did not give it another thought until, to my surprise, I got an email a few days later from the recruiter (Sister Lake) asking me for more information.

At this point in the process, I decided to tell my wife. She had always wanted to live by a beach. I told her about it, she just laughed and said, we can’t move to Hawaii! I laughed too and once again did not give it much thought since the recruiter told me there were over 50 candidates. Another few weeks went by and Sister Lake contacted me and told me that I had made the top 10 and they wanted to do a Skype interview with me. It was the first time that I thought that maybe I had a shot at the job. So I carefully and prayerfully prepared for the Skype interview. I had made a list of 10-15 common interview questions and prepared my answers. To my surprise the interview panel asked almost every single question I had prepared for (in order). When the interview ended I told my wife about the experience. For the first time she had a worried look on her face and she knew that this was a real possibility. We got an invitation to fly over to Oahu to interview for the job. The interview process went well and I was offered the job. We had decided to stay a couple of extra days on Oahu to enjoy the beach and check out potential housing options. However, I could tell that Leigh Anne was very worried about being so far away from our family and leaving our comfortable life in Utah. I had some of the same concerns. In fact, I could tell that she was leaning towards staying in Utah. I suggested we go to the temple and see how we feel. On Saturday morning we went to an endowment session.

To be honest, I felt pretty good about moving to Hawaii but I knew the easy decision would be to stay in Salt Lake. I knew in my heart that if this is where the Lord wanted us we should go but I knew Leigh Anne was not comfortable with the move. So during the entire temple session, my prayer was simple. I told the Lord that I was willing to move but only if my wife felt like this was the right decision for our family. After we finished the temple session, I met her right outside the front door. Leigh Anne had a solemn look on her face and was very quiet. I could not tell from her expression what she was thinking. We walked around behind the temple and sat down on a bench.

She immediately broke down and started to cry. She said she had a clear vision of our life in Hawaii and went into great detail about what it would be like. She was given direct revelation from our Father in Heaven. She said we have no choice but to move. The Lord wants us here. The rest is history. During the next few months the Lord literally opened up the windows of heaven and poured out many tender mercies to make our move to Hawaii a good one. So many things fell into place. We were worried about what to do about our home in Utah. Our good friends ended up renting it. There was uncertainty as to where we would live. We ended up in a beautiful home.

May I share with you a teaching experience that President Tanner had with one of his daughters and her girlfriend. President Tanner said,

Let me relate a little story that I have told all over the Church. My daughter and her girl friend were at our house, and they were going to a party; then two young men came and called for them. I sat and talked to them about different things, and just before they were ready to leave, I said, “Now have a good time, kids.” But just as they were going out of the door, I stepped over to my daughter and said, “Now, behave yourself.”
And she said, “Well, Dad, make up your mind.”
Then I said to those young people so they could all hear me, “Have a good time, kids, the best time you will ever have in your lives, but the kind of time that tomorrow, next week, a month from now or a year from now, ten years from now, you can look back on tonight and say, ‘I had a good time’ and have nothing to regret or to be sorry about.” And I think they went out and had a good time. [N. Eldon Tanner, Seek Ye First the Kingdom of God, p. 3]

In another service project titled “Light the world by helping one person help another”, missionaries identified an area in the George metropolitan area that needed upliftment.

“We identified a local neighbourhood park that was in bad need of upgrading, interviewed patrons of the park and a neighbourhood volunteer who helped clean the park,” Elder Miller said.

“We then kept track of what facilities were being used and what was in need of repair. We contacted and met with local government officials and presented a comprehensive plan to them and demonstrated our willingness as a Church to help fund the initial upgrade needs to get the project rolling. They approved our initial proposal and we ordered some facility upgrades.” the Millers said.

Opportunities for Christian acts of service do not always come at convenient times. Approximately two or three years ago I was in southern California. I had reorganized a stake. Just as I was getting ready to go out to the airport where I could relax, a woman approached me. She was in her mature years and she said, “Elder Featherstone, are you going back to Salt Lake City today?” I said, “Yes.” She continued, “Are you going on that four o’clock flight?” I responded that I was. Then she said, “Would you mind doing a favor for me?” I quickly thought about the schedule I had just been through, and the flesh was begging for a little break. I assumed she wanted me to hand carry something to her relatives. I never check baggage unless I absolutely have to. I wondered if I would have to check what it was I assumed she wanted me to bring back. I thought about waiting at the baggage claim for the item; then I wondered where it would need to be delivered. Only a moment’s pondering and as always, the spirit thrust aside all empty excuses and responded as a service-oriented leader should.
I said, “I will be glad to help in whatever way possible.” Then the woman said, “My grandson Phillip has been down here with me for a couple of weeks. How would you like to baby-sit him home to Salt Lake City? He is two-and-a-half years old. His mother will be waiting for him at the airport.” We arranged to meet at the Los Angeles Airport, where the grandmother introduced me to Phillip. Just before we boarded the plane she said, “Here is an envelope. Will you wait until you are on the plane to open it?” I found out why she made that request later.
Phillip and I boarded the plane.
I reached into my pocket and opened the letter from the grandmother. It went something like this:
“Dear Elder Featherstone, Thank you for taking Phillip back to Salt Lake City and baby-sitting him for us. We appreciate it. His mother will be there at the airport to meet you; but if she is not there, then here is what you do.”
Then she had written, “The reason I did not dare have you open the letter before you were on board the plane is that I did not have enough courage to ask you to do another favor for us. Phillip’s brother Ricky is in the University of Utah Hospital. He has had constant seizures, many in one day. The doctors do not know what else to do. They have done all they know, and he still has the problem. Do you think you could possibly find time to go by the hospital and give him a blessing?”
When we arrived in Salt Lake City, there was no one to meet us. We walked the length of the airport terminal. Still no one recognized Phillip. We went down the escalator, past the baggage claim, and out to the street. I have done some unusual things in our marriage, but I wondered what my wife would say when I came home from a stake conference visit and brought a two-and-a-half-year-old boy with me.
I looked around and stood with Phillip for a moment, and then his mother arrived driving a car and stopped by us. She had been delayed in heavy traffic coming to the airport. The sweet mother was very kind, and she loaded a happy Phillip and all his luggage into the car.
A short while later I was standing in one of the pediatric wards at the University of Utah Hospital. There were about six children in cribs. An attendant was mopping the floor, and then he left the room. I was all alone in the hospital room with these six beautiful children.
I found out which was Ricky’s bed and went over to him. I said, “My name is Vaughn Featherstone. Do you know who I just left?” He said, “No,” and I said, “I came back from Los Angeles today, and I brought your brother Phillip home. I told him I was coming here to see you.” Ricky was only about four, but tears came to his eyes. He missed his little brother.
Then I said to him, “Ricky, I am a friend of President Spencer W. Kimball, and he loves you. President Kimball is a prophet. Your grandmother asked me if I would give you a blessing. Do you know what it means when someone lays his hands on your head and gives you a blessing?” He said, “Yes.” And then I said, “Ricky, do you believe in Jesus?” He said, “Yes.” “Do you know that Jesus loves you? Do you know that Jesus can heal you?” He answered, “Yes.” Then I asked, “Would you like me to give you a blessing so you can be healed?” “Yes,” he said.
I laid my hands upon his head and gave Ricky a blessing. An interesting thing happened in the little pediatric ward. The other children stopped playing or crying and seemed to listen.
When I finished the blessing I reached in my pocket and pulled out a beautifully polished rock with my name on it that someone had given me. I gave it to Ricky, so that when his mother came she would know that I had been there.
Two years later I was in the Kingsport Tennessee Stake and a sweet young mother came up to me after conference. She told me it was her mother that had asked me to baby-sit Phillip and bless Ricky and then she said, “Have you ever heard of the results of your blessing?” I told her I had not. Then she shared with me the great miracle, “Ricky has not had another seizure since you gave him the blessing.”
It was not convenient to take Phillip home, nor was it convenient for me to go to the University of Utah Medical Center; but it was what Jesus would have done. Our service must always lead us to ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Several years ago, donations were made to create a fund for an endowed chair at the University of Utah. The chair was named the “Dr. Russell M. Nelson and Dantzel W. Nelson Presidential Chair in Cardiothoracic Surgery at the University of Utah.” It honors the pioneering contributions of President Nelson and the support he received from his late wife. The appointed faculty member holds the title of “the Nelson chair.”

The investiture ceremony happened in 2018. The ceremony included President Nelson, his current wife, Sister Wendy W. Nelson, the president of the University of Utah, and other dignitaries. The first person selected and appointed to this endowed chair and who thus carried the title “the Nelson chair,” was Dr. Craig H. Selzman. Dr. Selzman is a wonderfully accomplished cardiothoracic surgeon who is not of our faith.

The ceremony honored both President Nelson and Dr. Selzman. Both spoke about what this meant to them. President Nelson spoke modestly of a surgical career that had spanned decades and included pioneering work developing what is commonly known as a heart-lung bypass machine. When Dr. Selzman spoke, he surprised me. I had expected him to say nice things about President Nelson. He did so briefly, stating that what President Nelson had done in performing the first open-heart surgery in the state of Utah in 1955 using a heart-lung machine that he himself had built from scratch was “so bold, so ambitious, [and] so crazy.” Dr. Selzman added, “I think it said a lot about his character.” [2]

But then Dr. Selzman spoke about what it meant to him personally to be appointed to the endowed chair named after President Nelson. He said it gave him pause and planted in him a desire to change his attitudes and behaviors and become more like President Nelson. The two never practiced medicine together, separated by a generation or so, but President Nelson’s reputation and character clearly impacted Dr. Selzman.

Dr. Selzman related that earlier that week, on Monday evening, he went through the surgical intensive care unit after a long day in the operating room. He noticed that one of the patients he had operated on earlier was doing poorly and needed to go back to surgery. Dr. Selzman was disappointed. He was irritated because he would have to spend another long night in the hospital. In the past, he would have showered his frustrations on his surgical team. Everyone around him would have been aware that Dr. Selzman was unhappy because he let it show in his tone of voice, the sharpness in his manner, and in his general grumpiness.

This Monday evening, however, he had a quick but life-changing conversation with himself. In the moment, he thought, “On Friday, I will be appointed to the endowed chair named after Dr. Russell M. Nelson. During his surgical career, Dr. Nelson was known as a gentleman, someone who always kept his emotions in check, treated everyone with dignity and respect, and never lost his temper. He was kind and thoughtful of his team. Now that my name will be linked with Dr. Nelson’s, I need to be more like him.”

Dr. Selzman said he composed himself and intentionally changed his attitude. He went into that late-night surgery more complimentary of his staff and more understanding of their frustrations. His efforts to be more like Dr. Nelson created a different atmosphere in the operating room. His surgical team undoubtedly wondered what had happened to their old boss. Notably, Dr. Selzman liked who he was in the operating room that night.

My appreciation for Dr. Selzman’s remarkable experience was made even more profound five years later. In 2023, I attended another ceremony in which President Nelson’s professional papers were donated to the University of Utah. The donation included more than 7,000 operative reports, along with research papers and other professional writings that were compiled during President Nelson’s extraordinary medical career.

In attendance at this second ceremony were President Nelson, Sister Nelson, the President of the University of Utah, the Vice-President of Health Sciences, the Vice-Chair of the Board of Trustees, the Dean of the School of Medicine, the head of the Health Sciences Library, the Chairman of Surgery, and Dr. Selzman, the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery.

Several people spoke about the importance of the donation of President Nelson’s papers. The president of the University of Utah referred to President Nelson as its most distinguished alumnus. The last speaker was Dr. Selzman. Again, he surprised me.

Dr. Selzman began by mentioning that “Whenever you start talking about health care with [President Nelson], he gets a little twinkle in his eye.… It’s just amazing to see how energized he [gets] talking about all that stuff.” [3] But then, Dr. Selzman provided a follow-up on the effect of being “the Nelson chair,” not just on him, but also on members of his Division of Cardiothoracic Surgery. Referring to President Nelson’s initials, RMN, Dr. Selzman said, “There is an ‘RMN’ ethos that now pervades the Division of Cardiothoracic Surgery at the University of Utah. We know that we can’t live up to it, but it is aspirational.”

For those not familiar with the word ethos, it is used to describe the guiding beliefs or ideals that characterize a group. Dr. Selzman mentioned that in frustrating situations, when some choice words come into his mind, he remembers the RMN ethos. He continued, “I do what we now teach our trainees to do—focus, get over it, and do the best you can. This ethos lives in us every day.”

Dr. Selzman observed, “One of the most important things in my office is the medallion I received for the Nelson endowed chair. I remind myself every day of this ethos. We give lapel pins to every member of the division and new trainee. The pin has the University of Utah logo at its center with the words Cardiothoracic Surgery underneath the logo. Around the pin’s exterior are four things, three words ‘Teach,’ ‘Heal,’ and ‘Discover,’ and at the very bottom, the letters, RMN." The ethos that is characteristic of President Nelson’s life, Dr. Selzman said, “is foundational to our approach; we teach it to everyone.”

My wife and I are impressed by the effect President Nelson’s name had on Dr. Selzman. Not only has he tried to emulate President Nelson’s attributes, but he has also encouraged others to do the same. Dr. Selzman is striving to take on President Nelson’s characteristics because his name, Selzman, is now linked to President Nelson’s.

After I received my mission call, my parents and I traveled to the Mesa Arizona Temple so I could receive my endowment. As we prepared to climb a set of stairs that led to the temple’s ordinance rooms, I saw on a wall above a doorway the Savior’s words: “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8). The Spirit immediately bore witness to me that I was in a sacred place doing a sacred work.
I didn’t understand all the symbolism in what I saw and heard that day. But I felt the Spirit as I made covenants and received further light and knowledge essential for my eternal progress.

Mama had said that if I helped cut and spread peaches until they were all out to dry, Papa might bring me a surprise from Salt Lake. I told him I hoped it would be cloth for a pink dress and a hair ribbon. However, Papa insisted that brown or gray was more practical than pink; but I saw him wink at Mama when he said it. I was tired of the bolt of brown cloth we got last year for our dresses and for my brothers’ shirts. Mama thought it was a nice mulberry color, but to me it always looked brown.
Too soon summer was over and the Virgin Ward Primary had started again. Our Primary president, Sister Stratton, announced, “We have been encouraged by Sister Eliza R. Snow to have a fair in January to celebrate the twentieth birthday of Primary in our ward.”
Brother Stratton agreed to show the boys how to notch water willows to build little log cabins. Our teacher, Sister Isom, said that she would teach us how to sew a fine seam so we could make our own dresses when we grew up. “You may make doll dresses or piece quilt blocks. Some of you girls may even want to make aprons.”
Excitedly I drew in my breath. My mind flashed back to a sunset walk with Sister Stratton and her two little girls, Artie and Persis. The sky was turning pink. As it became pinker and pinker, we girls, holding hands, skipped to where the pasture grass stopped, and tumbled laughing in the sand at the river’s edge.
“Just look, we’re in a pink world,” Artie exclaimed.
The pink was not only in the west, but drifting clouds picked up the color in the east and north and south as well. Swallows skimmed the pink sky in their silent search for insects, and the shallow trickle of the Virgin River rippled pink. With upturned faces we looked and looked.
Settling herself on a smooth boulder, Sister Stratton looked up in rapture. “Oh,” she said softly, “how wonderful—how gloriously wonderful!”
“Mama, Heavenly Father is the One who makes the sky so pretty at night, isn’t He?” Persis asked.
“Yes, dear, and how thankful we should be for eyes to see. Eyesight is a precious gift.”
“I’m glad I’m not a mole in a hole,” Artie said thoughtfully.
“Sister Stratton, wouldn’t be fun to have something to wear the color of the sky?” I asked.
“Oh, Mary Ann, that would be lovely. I think I would have a gathered apron to tie around my waist when we come home to Sunday dinner—a long pink checkered apron.” Then she arose and, brushing the sand from her skirts, said, “Speaking of dinner, come along, girls. Your father will soon be in from the field, powerful hungry.”
Light-footed we pattered beside her. No one would think by her lively step that she had a dozen children. Actually, Artie made thirteen, because she came to live with the Strattons when her own mother died. Sister Stratton had room in her big heart for everyone, including me. Persis and Artie were like my sisters, since I was the only girl in our family, surrounded by a whole troop of brothers.
“I feel happy as a meadowlark,” Persis said. And to show that she did, too, Sister Stratton burst into song and we joined in:
Days of summer glory, days I love to see,
All your scenes so brilliant, they are dear to me.
Let your thot’s be ever, pure as yonder sun,
Gentle as the breezes when the night comes on.
Meadow, field and mountain, clothed in shining green,
Little rippling fountains, thro’ the willows seen,
Birds that sweetly warble all the summer days,
All things speak in music, their Creator’s praise.
Deseret Sunday School Songs, no. 169.
(Sing with Me, no. G-22.)
Suddenly I was snapped out of my reverie by our Primary chorister’s voice. “Children, we will now sing no. 169, ‘Summer Time.’” That’s funny, I thought, we’re going to sing the very song that was running through my mind.
After the song Sister Bradshaw played the harmonica and we danced the Danish slide-off. Then Sister Stratton brought out a dishpan full of molasses cookies, and the new Primary season had really and truly begun.
I could hardly wait to get home to tell Mama about the Primary fair and what I wanted to make for our president. “Sister Stratton will be so surprised to have a pink checkered apron made by me. Then she’ll remember our sunset walk every time she wears it.”
Patting my shoulder, Mama said, “We’ll go to the co-op now and find the material.”
Mama helped me cut out the apron and I folded it neatly in my sewing box along with needles, thimble, and thread ready for the next Primary day. How to keep Sister Stratton from seeing it puzzled me, but I needn’t have worried. She wasn’t there. Persis said her mother was ill.
Sister Stratton wasn’t at Primary the next week, nor the next. Finally Brother Stratton took her to St. George to be under a doctor’s care, and Persis’s older sister Mary had to take care of the family.
I guess the Primary children worked harder than ever preparing for the fair, because everyone wanted to please Sister Stratton. I finished my apron and could hardly wait for her to see it. Besides making doll dresses and little quilts, some of the girls braided doll rugs. The boys made spool wagons in addition to the little water willow log cabins. We were going to have a scrumptious display.
It was on the first Primary day in January that we finally learned something about Sister Stratton’s illness. Sister Gibson told the children that our beloved president had gone blind. I almost couldn’t stand it. I thought of that day at the river and how thankful she was to have eyes to see with. I remembered the times she told the Primary children how beautiful their smiles were. I thought of the fair and how anxious we were to have her see what we had made. A lump as big as a quince arose in my throat as we started the opening song:
Jesus bids us shine with a clear, pure light,
Like a little candle, burning in the night, …
In this world is darkness, so we must shine,
You in your small corner, and I in mine. …
—“Jesus Bids Us Shine,” Deseret Sunday School Songs, no. 183
I almost bawled when they sang “In this world is darkness,” thinking how it must be for Sister Stratton. Then Lucy Jepson recited a piece about the great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world and I broke down. I couldn’t help it.
Sister Bradshaw put her arms around me. “What’s the matter, Mary Ann?” she asked.
“Oh, Sister Bradshaw, Sister Stratton won’t ever be able to see the beautiful world again.”
“I know, Mary Ann; it’s truly sad. But perhaps you’ll feel better after our lesson today,” she said.
The lesson was about Jesus anointing the eyes of the blind man so he could see. After the lesson we were asked to fast and pray for Sister Stratton.
Fast and testimony meeting was the next Sunday, January the sixth, twenty years to the day since Eliza R. Snow and Zina D. Young organized the first Primary in Virgin in 1881. Most of the testimonies were about that first Primary, and I almost wished I had been born sooner. Then Bishop Beebe prayed for Sister Stratton, and the Primary children were asked to stay after meeting.
When we knelt together Sister Gibson said, “Heavenly Father delights in the prayers of little children. Mary Ann, will you please lead us?” Since we always took turns praying in Primary anyway, I was not usually afraid, but this time it was different. When I bowed my head I sobbed and sobbed, and I tingled all over. Finally I gained control.
“Oh, Heavenly Father,” I pleaded, “please heal Sister Stratton because we love her so much and because she loves us so much. Bless her so she can see our smiles and all of the things we made for the fair and the wonderful world and pink sunsets. Please. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
The Primary fair was the following Saturday and Sister Stratton was there. Standing before us, she said, “Your smiles are as beautiful as those of angels.” She could see! Tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued, “Dear precious children, a wonderful thing happened to me. As I sat by a west window late Sunday afternoon, a feeling of peace came over me. And then, out of the mist of darkness, there came a gentle light, growing brighter; and I saw a sky full of gold-fringed pink clouds and I knew the sun was setting. Over and over I said, ‘Thank you, Heavenly Father, thank you so much for the precious gift of sight.’ And then I learned that at that very hour, you, my precious Primary children, were on your knees praying for me.”
We rushed into her arms and she hugged us, one by one. And then she saw and enjoyed the things we had made. “They are just beautiful,” she said. She enjoyed our singing, reciting, and our dancing, and I just knew it was the happiest birthday party the world had ever seen. Last of all I gave her the pink checkered apron.
“Oh, Mary Ann. Mary Ann!” she cried. “You must have caught a pink cloud right out of the sunset to make this for me.” And we laughed happily together.
I dearly love our Heavenly Father for listening so tenderly when children pray.

When I was a young man in high school, one of my passions was American football. I played middle linebacker. The coach worked the team hard, teaching us the basics. We practiced until the skills became natural and automatic. During one play against our biggest rival, I had an experience that has helped me over the years. We were on defense. I knew my assigned opponent, and as the play unfolded, he moved to my right into the line of scrimmage. There was a lot of noise from players and fans. I reacted as the coach had taught us and followed my man into the line, not knowing if he had the ball. To my surprise, I felt the ball partially in my hands. I gave it a tug, but my opponent didn’t let go. As we tugged back and forth, amid all the noise I heard a voice yelling, “Packer, tackle him!” That was enough to bring me to my senses, so I dropped him on the spot.

I have wondered how I heard that voice above all the other noise. I had become acquainted with the voice of the coach during the practices, and I had learned to trust it. I knew that what he taught worked.

I was raised on a large grain farm in Kansas, and on a farm you learn to drive as soon as you can see over the steering wheel and touch the pedals–preferably at the same time. For me, that was in the fourth grade. So, by the time I got my driver’s license at fourteen, I was a seasoned veteran behind the wheel. Or so I thought.

That first June after getting my driver’s license, I was expected to help with harvest. My job was to drive a grain truck from the field to the elevators, ten miles away via country road. The trip to the elevator was a straight shot, except for one stop sign to cross a highway.

Now, it takes hundreds of yards to grind down through the gears and bring a fully loaded grain truck to a complete stop. It was a pain for a young girl. Each time I came to that stop sign, I couldn’t help but think how much easier it would be if I didn’t have to completely stop. It’s not as though I needed to stop. There was rarely any traffic on that remote highway. And besides, Kansas is flat. You can stand on a tuna fish can and see forever. So from the cab of the truck, I could see for miles. After indulging in these thoughts for a few days, I managed to rationalize that it was actually a good idea if I just slowed down but didn’t completely stop.

Which I began to do. And it did make dealing with the stop sign so much easier. But then something curious began to happen; and before I knew it, not only was I not stopping, but I wasn’t doing much more than taking my foot off the pedal briefly, glancing both ways, and barreling across the highway. I did this day after day, including one afternoon when I again disregarded the stop sign, sped across the highway, and proceeded down the dirt country road.

Now, I should point out that a heavy truck on a dirt road kicks up a lost of dust. That afternoon, after going five miles, I looked in the rear-view mirror as I slowed to turn a corner and to my fourteen-year-old horror saw a white car with a rotating red light on top following me. I had never even seen a policeman out in the country. And after eating my dust for five miles, he was not all that cheerful. Then, when he saw how young I was, he demanded to talk with my parents. So with his red lights still gyrating, he followed me to our farm a mile away. And let’s just say that it was a painful experience.

I learned three things that day: First, that with lightening speed, I went from complete observance to complete disregard of the law. Second, my demise started with a small crack in my integrity. The instant I talked myself into taking a small liberty, I was on a slippery slide into full-scale disobedience. And third, there is no such thing as slightly breaking a law–whether a law of the land or a law of God–because even a slight breach of integrity opens the door for Satan.