Gospel Story Finder

Beth ran to the window. The car was pulling into the driveway.
“Mom!” called Beth. “Dad and Mark are here. I can’t wait to see Mark!”
Mom stood by Beth. “Remember, Beth. Your brother’s accident was very serious. He may seem different to you at first.”
The door opened. Dad pushed Mark in his wheelchair into the room. Beth’s smile faded. She hardly recognized Mark. His face was gaunt and pale, and a pink rash extended down to his neck. His shaven head was covered by a white bandage, and there was a black patch over one eye.
Beth choked back her tears. She forced herself to smile. “Welcome home, Mark,” she said.
Mark smiled slightly. He mumbled something, but Beth wasn’t sure of what he had said. Mom had warned her that Mark’s speech was difficult to understand now. Beth kept a smile plastered on her face, but she didn’t say anything else. She didn’t know what to say.
During the next few weeks, Beth saw little of Mom and Dad. When they weren’t tending to Mark at home, they were driving him back and forth to the hospital or clinic. There was physical therapy to help his muscles grow stronger, speech therapy to teach him to talk again, and occupational therapy to teach him to dress and feed himself. Mark also spent part of each day in a special education classroom.
One Thursday evening at dinner, Mark was especially clumsy. Beth watched as he lost his grip on his spoon, spilling soup all over his shirt. She looked away as he threw his spoon down and muttered angrily.
Mom calmly cleaned up the mess. She helped Mark into his wheelchair and wheeled him into his room.
Beth cleaned up the dishes. “I got an A on my English paper, Dad,” she said. “Miss James read it to the class today. She said it was the best story in the class.”
“I’m glad, honey,” said Dad. “I know you worked hard on it.”
“Do you want to read my story now?” asked Beth.
“Maybe later,” said Dad. “I think I’ll spend some time with Mark, now. Mom’s tired. She needs a break.”
“It’s always later!” Beth blurted out. “All you and Mom care about is Mark!”
“You know that isn’t true. We care about you very much. I’m sorry we haven’t been spending much time with you since Mark’s accident, but right now your brother needs us more.”
Beth didn’t say anything.
“It would be nice if you would spend a little more time with Mark, too,” Dad added quietly. “You’ve hardly even spoken to him this week.”
“I don’t know what to say to him. It scares me when he gets so mad. He just doesn’t seem like the same Mark.”
“He isn’t the same Mark right now,” Dad said. “And he may never be the same, but he’s still your brother.”
Just then the telephone rang.
“I’ll get it,” said Beth.
It was Beth’s best friend, Cindy. “Guess what! We’re going to the lake tomorrow night and Saturday, and Mom says I can invite you and Sally to go with us!”
“I’d love to go!” Beth squealed. “I’ll call you back after I talk to Mom and Dad.”
Mom was in the kitchen, getting a glass of water. She looked tired and had deep circles under her eyes. “Yes, you can go,” she replied to Beth’s request. “It’ll be nice for you to get away.”
Cindy and her parents picked up Beth Friday afternoon. Beth was surprised when they pulled up in front of a large building. CONVALESCENT AND REHABILITATION CENTER the sign said.
“We’re going to stop and see Granny before we pick up Sally,” Cindy said. “We visit Granny every Saturday morning, but since we won’t get back until tomorrow night, we wanted to see her before we left.”
Beth followed Cindy into a large room at the center. The room looked cozy with its soft chairs and big couches, but somehow it still had the feeling of a hospital.
“You can wait here,” Cindy told her. “We won’t be long.”
Beth looked around the room. There were some men playing checkers in the back, and a gray-haired woman sat methodically knitting an afghan.
But what caught Beth’s attention was a teenage girl sitting in a wheelchair. She was a pretty girl with long blond curly hair.
She stared straight out a window. She didn’t say anything, but tears rolled down her cheeks.
An attendant gently wiped the girl’s tears. “I guess your mom called again to say she couldn’t come.” The girl just nodded. “I’m sure she’ll visit soon,” the attendant tried to console her.
Cindy and her parents came into the room as the girl was wheeled out. “That girl is always waiting, but nobody ever comes to see her,” Cindy commented to Beth. “She always looks so sad.”
“It almost seems as if she’s given up,” Beth mumbled.
“I’d give up, too,” Cindy replied, “if nobody cared about me.”
Beth was quiet as they got into the car. She turned to her friend. “Cindy, would you be mad if I ask your dad to take me home? I’m really sorry, but I think I need to spend this weekend with my brother.”
“I’ll miss you, but it’s OK. Maybe you can come the next time we go to the lake.”
At home, Mom and Dad were talking in the kitchen.
Beth smiled at their look of surprise. “Everything’s OK. I just decided I’d rather stay home.” She paused. “And I thought maybe you two would like to go out tonight while I stay with Mark. If it’s all right with you, we’ll order a pizza and rent a movie.”
Mom smiled. “Thanks, honey. It would be nice to get out. And I know that Mark will enjoy some time with you.”
“Mom and I read your story,” said Dad. “It was great. I can see why it was chosen as the best in the class.”
“I especially liked the ending,” said Mom. “You have quite a knack for surprise endings.”
Beth smiled. “Thanks—I guess I am best at surprise endings.”

Some of these spunky women were instrumental in bringing education, culture, and women’s rights to their communities. At age fourteen Ida Frances Hunt Udall13 had progressed in her education to the point where she served as bookkeeper for the Beaver Woolen Mills. One of a family of eight children, she made the cloth she received in payment for her work into dresses for herself, her mother, and her five little sisters. When she was eighteen her father moved the family across the mountains to Joseph City, in Sevier County, where Ida taught in a log cabin school and continued to develop her musical abilities.

In 1877, when Ida was nineteen, her father and mother responded to the urge to move to Arizona. Ida drove one of the teams on the three-month journey and kept a daily record of that journey in pencil on a still extant stub of a receipt book.

There Ida spent several years teaching until David Udall went to Snowflake, Arizona, searching for a Spanish-speaking clerk for his store in St. Johns; he found much in common with Ida. After several months she became his wife. That was in 1882. In the years that followed Ida bore six children, a daughter and five sons, the rearing and caring of whom devolved mostly upon her because of Bishop Udall’s important Church and civic responsibilities. In the words of Pauline Udall Smith:
“She half soled their shoes, barbered their hair and made every article of clothing they wore until they were nearly grown. She made butter and cheese for sale, raised chickens and a garden each year, while at the same time cooking for hired men. … [She also] found time for the refinement of life. There were petunias blooming in the window or mignonettes in the yard. On the wall hung pictures, the frames of which she had fashioned from pine cones. The Mexican house in which she lived, often ran tubs of water through its leaky roof, yet she never gave up the yearly going over its ceilings and walls herself with the white wash brush. The rag carpet on the floor had taken hours of her time to make, but brought comfort and cheer to her home.
“On the Sabbath day, she was often seen in the cart with its shafts drawn by one horse, accompanied by her children and their cousins on the way to the school house, one mile distant, or perhaps walking another time. There, a Sunday School class would be taught by her or a choir practice held. In the evening, the hired men and boys gathered around the coal-oil lamp, after the evening meal, and listened to Aunt Ida, as everyone called her, play the guitar and sing.”14
Despite crop failures due to drouth and many health problems, this serene intellectual introduced culture and education into many frontier LDS communities in Arizona.

Chelsea Beattie and Liz Christensen, two Mia Maids in Boise, Idaho, know a little something about building a temple from the ground up. As part of a school assignment for their history class, students were assigned to report on a historical event that was an example of both tragedy and triumph. Since the girls were studying Church history in Sunday School, learning about Nauvoo and especially the temple, it made sense for the girls to expand on their knowledge for their project. The girls made a replica of the Nauvoo Temple from mat board, cardstock, tape, glue, and clay.
“Recognizing the tragedy and the triumphs that were present in the city of Nauvoo has taught both of us that the people who came before us sacrificed for us, and for that we are eternally grateful,” says Chelsea.

My name is David Alvarez. I live in Rockville, Maryland, in the metropolitan area of Washington, D.C. I went to school in Potomac, Maryland, when I was younger. My siblings and I were the only members of the Church who attended that school. This meant I had to make very important decisions about what was right and what was wrong.
One day I was in gym class. We were playing volleyball. I was about to volley a ball over the net, when something green caught my eye—something on the floor. I went a little closer. It appeared to be a twenty-dollar bill. I felt a cold shiver down my spine. Nervously I pounded the ball to the other side of the net.
“Hey, look what I found!” I said to one of my classmates. He didn’t respond. “Hey, look what I found!” I repeated. He didn’t seem to hear me.
I looked up from the bill, and I realized that a volleyball was headed my way. I hit it to the other side and kept on playing for a few more minutes. After a while, I looked down at the floor, and to my astonishment, the money was still there.
I picked it up, realizing that no one else seemed to have noticed it. I stuffed the money into my pocket and thought of the reasons to keep it: If I kept it, I could pay for a couple of field trips without having to earn the money, enjoy snack times in the cafeteria, have a larger bank account, or have fun sharing it with my friends. On the other hand, someone might come up to me later and say, “Have you seen a twenty-dollar bill?” I would feel guilty if I had to say that I had spent it.
Even though I could think of more reasons to keep the money than to be honest and turn it in, I began to think to myself, What would Jesus want me to do? What would I do if He was leaning against the gym wall, looking at me?
Look at your ring, your CTR ring, I told myself. I looked at my ring. Then I could not bear it any longer. I walked over to the gym teacher and showed her the money. “I found this twenty-dollar bill on the floor.”
“Oh my!” the teacher responded. “That sure is a lot of money! I’ll turn it in to the office.”
As I went back to playing volleyball, I could feel some words inside me: Good choice, David. You did what was right. I thank Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost for giving me the courage to do what was right.

I learned in my education pursuit that I couldn't do it alone. The first class that I enrolled in my graduate program at WSU was an advanced marketing class. On the first day of class the teacher started out by building a very mathematical econometric model of the demand function. The model was called the Slutksy equation and involved a high level of calculus and lots of Greek notation. At the end of the hour I knew I was in trouble and not prepared for that course, but I stayed in it. The first midterm exam came and consisted of only 5 essay questions, each worth 20 points. I had studied long and hard for that exam and felt confident that I would do well. I started the exam and wrote about a page and a half for each question, feeling that I had covered all of areas required by each question. I handed my exam in, confident that I had passed with flying colors. The next class period the graded exams were returned. The red inked comments on the top of my paper indicated that I had the "flying colors" and also indicated that I had scored a record score. My score and the professor's note at the top of my exam read: "15 pts out of 100 pts. This is the lowest score that I have ever given in all of my 20 years of teaching. What is wrong with you? (1) You are not prepared for this program or (2) You don't want to be here. Come and see me." I was of course shocked and went to see the professor as he had invited me to. I explained to him that I was not prepared for the rigor of the program, to which he said, "You have two options, (1) Get yourself up to speed or (2) Drop out."

I left his office and did a lot of self reflection and evaluation. I realized that in addition to not having the proper academic preparation, I had not really prepared myself through proper prayer. While I had been saying my prayers each day, I hadn't been really praying with the sincerity and intent that the scriptures had suggested. I changed my behavior of prayer and as a result my study habits changed, my understanding increased and I completed that initial course with a "B" grade. I testify that it was with the smooth stones of prayer, faith, obedience, and service that I successfully completed that program.

On 24 January 1988, as her group is about to leave the Mexico City Missionary Training Center and enter their fields of labor, Sister Marilu Ramirez stands during a meeting to bear her testimony. Her jet black hair, pulled back and held in place with two blue hair clips, almost reaches her waist.
At the pulpit, she stands on a short stool in order to speak into the microphone. Her petite frame suggests that she might speak timidly, but her voice is powerful and her testimony is that of a mature disciple. “I have had to fight to get here,” she says with emotion, “and I have learned that without the Lord, I am nothing. But I have felt his infinite love for me, and I know in whom I have confided.”
The next day, as she meets her new mission president and his assistants, she again bears powerful witness of the Father’s love. “When I entered the temple for the first time a few days ago, I felt his Spirit and was overwhelmed by his love,” she says. “As I prayed to him, I asked, ‘Why do you love me so much?’ And I seemed to hear an answer: ‘Don’t you know I love all the world—all my children? I don’t want anyone to be lost.’ And I began to comprehend the great love he has for each one of us.” Her voice again fills with emotion. “I know that our Heavenly Father and his son Jesus Christ live and love us. I feel very honored to be a daughter of God and to serve him as a missionary.”

Several years ago at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, the participants were expressing gratitude to the ranch chairman, who happened to be me. They had asked my son, Scott, married with children, to say something. He came up on the stand, dressed in his Scout uniform, stood in front of me, raised his arm to the square in the Scout sign, and said:
“Dad, on my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; and to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight” (see Boy Scout Handbook, Boy Scouts of America [1998]). He said it with sincerity and as an oath, tears glistening, his voice filled with emotion. I knew he meant it with all his heart and soul.
Before you take an oath, it’s important to know what it means. “On my honor” means that we will keep the oath—that our honor depends upon it. If we fail to keep the Scout Oath, we are violating a solemn promise. It continues, “… to do my duty to God.” This means, from a Church point of view, that we attend Church, pay tithing, accept callings, honor the priesthood, keep God’s commandments, and keep the standards of dress and conduct. Then the oath states, “… and my country.” Wherever we live in the world we should do our duty to our country by obeying the laws, sustaining good leaders, honoring the flag, and being good citizens.
An important part of the oath states, “… to obey the Scout Law.” The Scout Law is a wonderful model for life.
A Scout is trustworthy. Imagine if every Scout practiced this first principle of the Scout Law with all his heart. There are millions of Boy Scouts and leaders around the world. What a dramatic impact we could have on those around us if we all were trustworthy.
Each principle of the Scout Law is a sermon and demands action if we would live and practice the oath we take: a Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.
A Scout who takes the Scout Oath weekly should remember it is something he is committing his soul to. Imagine what a blessing it is to be loyal to Scouting, family, Church, country, and friends!
We take an oath to be friendly, kind, and courteous. At a national jamboree a 12-year-old Scout got separated from his patrol. He was standing alone in a sea of Scouts and about to break into tears. An older Scout saw him and went over and introduced himself. “I have a gift for you,” the older boy said. “It is a hand-carved bolo tie. A great Scouter, Bill Burch, carved it. He numbers each one. He has carved over 40,000.”
The older Scout presented the tie to the young scared Scout. About that time the patrol found the boy. They gathered around him, and for a few moments he was the center of attention with his new bolo tie. The tears had disappeared; he felt important. The older Scout had truly been friendly.
Not one of the 12 points mentioned in the Scout Law is selfish; the prophets of God in the Book of Mormon and other scriptures have taught each point. I believe the Scout Oath is an inspired oath for all young men.
For example, to be obedient is a great and wonderful blessing. It is a privilege to be obedient. It is not a “have to do” because of the standards; it is a “get to do.” We really are free when we are obedient to God’s commandments and to the Scout Law.
It is a blessing, as well, to be cheerful. I recall Elder Loren C. Dunn (1930–2001) of the Seventy several years ago suggesting in a talk “that a certain man looked like he had been weaned on lemon juice through a dill pickle.” Cheerfulness is contagious and is a strong positive influence for good. People enjoy being around others who are happy. In Proverbs we read, “A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance” (Prov. 15:13). Also it states, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine” (Prov. 17:22).
If being cheerful is good for the soul, being thrifty is good for our financial well-being. Wastefulness and indulgence are not of God. They are negative influences and have serious consequences on us by and by. When we are thrifty we are self-reliant, able to be free to assist those in need. Scouting instructs us to be wise with our resources.
Profound knowledge and direction come from the Scout Law. A Scout is brave, clean, and reverent. Bravery is usually not sensational, although it may be. Bravery is manifest in many small acts, such as defending a young man against those who would mock or physically abuse him. It is standing up for an ideal and letting your voice be heard.
Bravery is a trait every young man can develop. It is based on love for others more than safety for self. One Venturer Scout who is blind signed up to go on a hike in southern California with his Scout troop. They hiked to Lord Baden Powell Peak over a steep trail. The young man held on to the shirt of a fellow Boy Scout every step of the way. It was a long hike and took two full days. This boy did not complain, did not seek pity, just kept grinding on and on until they came to the trail’s end. Equally as brave was the Scout who volunteered to lead his friend over a steep and challenging trail. He felt honored to help.
The traits of cleanliness and reverence complement each other. To be clean refers to body cleanliness, clean clothing, being well groomed and wearing appropriate attire.
To be reverent demands that we acknowledge God, that by our actions we express our devotion to Him. Reverence for the Lord has a profound impact on our conduct, our language, our personal prayers, and our standards. It is interesting that reverence is the 12th point in the Scout Law. It sums up all the others. Violating any of the other 11 points would be irreverent.
We declare in the Scout Oath that we will “help other people at all times.” A 12-year-old Scout went to troop meeting at Mutual one Tuesday evening. When Mutual was over, he did not show up at home for about an hour and a half. His parents were concerned and were about to go look for him when he came through the door. “Where have you been?” the anxious father asked.
“One of the members of the bishopric was putting up the chairs all alone,” he replied. “You remember my patriarchal blessing states, ‘You were born to serve your fellow men.’ I stayed and helped him put away all the chairs. I sure love him.”
We do love those we serve. Imagine millions of men and boys helping other people at all times.
If we are true to the oath, we will also keep ourselves “physically strong.” We will eat wholesome foods, stay in good physical condition, and not abuse this wonderful body we have. Physical health brings happiness. It increases our capabilities in so many ways.
The Scout Oath includes being “mentally awake.” We must have good health to be mentally awake. Our eyes reflect whether we are awake or not. To be mentally awake we must see what is going on around us. We must be alert and aware.
The oath concludes with being “morally straight,” which means we do not deviate or compromise standards of chastity, virtue, or wholesomeness. We stand on higher ground and remain morally clean. A Scout who makes an oath that he will be morally straight is duty bound to live that way. The Scout Oath prepares us for the priesthood oath and covenant. Virtue is an essential part of our priesthood oath.
Think with me about President Gordon B. Hinckley, President Thomas S. Monson, and President James E. Faust taking the Scout Oath. Can you think of anything in the oath that they are not living daily? Do the other great men you know—your fathers, bishops, stake presidents, seminary teachers, and Scout leaders—live in harmony with the Scout Oath? They do.
Fellow Scouts, remember the sacredness of an oath. It is violated only to the detriment of your character. By living the Scout Oath and preparing for the oath and covenant of the Melchizedek Priesthood, you are truly preparing yourself to serve God, your fellow man, your family, and your community. Taking the Scout Oath is a sacred trust endorsed by the First Presidency. Living the Scout Oath will help you become the kind of man God can use in building His kingdom on earth.

I once saw, at close range, the face of a faithful father who had just learned that his handsome and promising young son had violated the law of chastity and that the boy’s immature young girlfriend was pregnant. I’ll never forget the look in that man’s eyes as it dawned on him that his child of promise had willfully rejected what his parents had taught and what they wanted him to be. The father just sat in stunned silence, staring sadly at the rain outside his window in a grief that knew no comfort. As the tears ran freely down his face, he asked himself out loud: “Why? Why would he turn his back on all he knows to be right?” There came no answer but the gentle sound of the falling rain.

An example of this would be Dick Hammer, who came to Utah with the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Depression. He met and married a Latter-day Saint young woman. He opened Dick’s Café in St. George, Utah, which became a popular meeting spot.

Assigned as home teacher to the Hammer family was Willard Milne, a friend of mine. Since I knew Dick Hammer as well, having printed the menus for his café, I would ask my friend Brother Milne when I visited St. George, “How is our friend Dick Hammer coming?”

The reply would generally be, “He’s coming, but slowly.”

When Willard Milne and his companion visited the Hammer home each month, they always managed to present a gospel message and to share their testimonies with Dick and the family.

The years passed by, and then one day Willard phoned me with good news. “Brother Monson,” he began, “Dick Hammer is converted and is going to be baptized. He is in his 90th year, and we have been friends all our adult lives. His decision warms my heart. I’ve been his home teacher for many years.” There was a catch in Willard’s voice as he conveyed his welcome message.

Brother Hammer was indeed baptized and a year later entered that beautiful St. George Temple and there received his endowment and sealing blessings.

I asked Willard, “Did you ever become discouraged as his home teacher for such a long time?”

He replied, “No, it was worth every effort. As I witness the joy which has come to the members of the Hammer family, my heart fills with gratitude for the blessings the gospel has brought into their lives and for the privilege I have had to help in some way. I am a happy man.”

Once I had to choose between attending a Church activity and going to a friend’s party. It was a difficult decision. I didn’t want to disappoint my friend, but I felt that attending the Church activity was more important. I prayed about it, and I felt peace about choosing the Church activity.
My friend was disappointed at first, but she understood my decision when I explained my reasons. My experience showed me that when I put God first, everything else falls into place. It also strengthened my belief that God will guide me when I seek His help through prayer.

A few weeks ago, brother Chad Ford used a wonderful story about Mahatma Ghandi. I asked him if it would be okay to briefly recount the story for my purposes and he graciously agreed. If you'll recall, the story told of a mother that was seeking the Mahatma's assistance in helping her son stop eating sugar. Her son was addicted to sweets which she thought made him hyper and unable to attend school. She hoped Gandhi would tell her son to stop eating sugar as she was sure that her son would listen to the leader. As she made her request, Gandhi paused and then told the woman to come back in one week. The mother and child traveled the long distance to return one week later. At that time, Gandhi took the little boy, sat him on his lap and simply said, "Please do not eat sugar. It is bad for you." A bewildered mother, who had now traveled the difficult journey twice to meet with the Ghandi, asked, "Why didn't you just tell him that last week?" Ghandi smiled and answered patiently, "Last week, I too was still eating sugar."

A while ago I met a special boy, and this week I had the privilege of spending some time with him and his family. This boy has muscular atrophy. He is a remarkable young man, loved by everyone in the ward. He has always wanted to do the things the other fellows do. He has succeeded in Cub Scouting. He is now a First Class Scout and is progressing.
While Jay was a deacon, he passed the sacrament with the others. He can’t walk or stand on his feet, so his dad lined up with the other boys, holding Jay with his strong arm around his waist and helping him hold the tray, since his hands are not strong enough to support it. Jay’s father thus assisted his son from row to row as he passed the sacrament. Jay did a great job as a deacon collecting fast offerings too. His dad carried him from door to door. Can you imagine that scene on the doorstep?
Jay bears a strong testimony; his attitude and outlook are amazing. He gives talks and does well. He has sung in Church, and always when he does these things, his dad is there to hold him in his arms and stand by him and support him.
In all my life I never heard a sweeter story nor a more moving one. God bless such a father, and God bless such a son, and God bless us who have so much and who have yet a little time, that we may take another look at our boy or at the boy who needs some additional help outside his home. God bless you boys to appreciate your dads, to be patient and gracious and forgiving. God bless us all, boys and men, now and in the future, always to act in a way that will help others enjoy the special blessings God wants them to have.

On another occasion we saw charity build a Zion community. In the mission field, one of our missionaries softened many hearts. His prize possession given to him from his father before he left on his mission was a superb yellow camera. It went missing. And because of some obvious clues, he was sure that it had been stolen from him by his companion. But the Elder at fault would not admit it, and it was creating a contentious spirit, not conducive to missionary work. Finally the owner of the yellow camera said to President Tanner, “I would like my companion to have the camera. I think he needs it much more than I do. Let’s move on as if none of this has happened.” His benevolent response was “not easily provoked,” the opposite of angry, harsh or mean, spreading a blanket of charity over and smothering the fire that had ignited. Can we at this university forgive wrongs that may unfairly be put upon us?

Lest anyone believe I am announcing or planning dramatic changes in the university, let me promise you that I am not doing so. But let me also assure you that as our circumstances change and the needs of our students and community differentiate, so must the way in which the university conducts its teaching, learning, and other businesses be responsive to our current environment. As I make this observation, I am reminded of an experience President Henry B. Eyring shared with some of us a few years ago.

President Henry B. Eyring in his early years in Church Educational System leadership was asked by President Spencer W. Kimball to chair a committee of educators to think about and report on the distant future of education in the Church. As he visited with the prophet, President Eyring opined that universities would likely not exist in the Millennium as we know them today. He was stopped by President Kimball, who disagreed and made the case to Brother Eyring that universities had developed in ways that had resulted in great good over many years and likely would be found in recognizable ways for a very long time. I believe President Kimball convinced young Brother Eyring of this likelihood, and I know he and the other presiding Brethren feel the same today.

When I was a young boy, my Grandfather Ignacio gave my brother, David, and me a used bicycle as a gift. We quickly thanked him and sped off to give the gift a test ride. When we returned from our ride, my mother asked us to go to a nearby phone booth and telephone our grandfather to thank him for the bike.
We arrived at the booth and waited several minutes to make the call. Realizing that the woman using the phone would not leave anytime soon, we decided that it would be best to go to another pay telephone. As we got on the bike to leave, a police officer arrived in his patrol car. The woman who had delayed us immediately left the booth and protested loudly and emphatically, “That is my child’s bicycle. It was stolen several months ago.”
The police officer asked where we had gotten the bicycle, and we answered that we had just received it as a gift from our grandfather. The officer loaded us and the bicycle into the patrol car and took us home, where he asked that my mother produce some proof of purchase for the bike. After my mother called my grandfather from a neighbor’s phone, my grandfather arrived and presented a receipt for the bike’s purchase. The receipt showed that he had purchased the bike that very morning at the police station auction, where unclaimed and recovered property was sold.
The officer had a dilemma to resolve. Give the bike to the pleading mother or give the bike to us, the recent purchasers. I am sure you have come to your own conclusions based on what you perceive to have been the fairest course of action.
The officer returned the bicycle to the woman who had claimed it to be rightfully her child’s. Of course my brother and I were devastated. At the time I felt it was a serious injustice for the officer to have taken the bicycle and given it to this stranger. As time passed, my legal education here at the BYU Law School only reinforced my feelings about our loss.
After law school I returned to work in the city where this bike episode had occurred, and I became one of its city attorneys. Ironically, I remember analyzing and applying the very law that should have prevented the officer from taking my first bike had the law been applied correctly.
It is only in more recent years that I have come to understand the lasting lesson that my grandfather taught me on that day—one that lives longer in my heart than the bicycle ever could. In my mind’s eye I have come to understand that he must have seen something in that mother’s face, a tired yearning for compassion, that caused him to allow the bicycle to be returned to its rightful owner.
That day my grandfather taught me a higher law, the second great commandment: how to love your neighbor. My grandfather demonstrated and exercised the gift of charity for another human being.

Now I would like to speak of the special meaning the temple has for me. Part of this message is going to be sensitive, so I will appreciate your prayers as I give it so that I do not become too emotional.
Fourteen years ago the Lord took my wife beyond the veil. I love her with all my heart, but I have never complained because I know it was His will. I have never asked why but rather what is it that He wants me to learn from this experience. I believe that is a good way to face the unpleasant things in our lives, not complaining but thanking the Lord for the trust He places in us when He gives us the opportunity to overcome difficulties.
We had the blessing of having children. A daughter, the first child, continues to be an enormous blessing in our lives. A couple of years later a son we named Richard was born. A few years later a daughter was born. She died after living only a few minutes.
Our son, Richard, was born with a heart defect. We were told that unless that could be cured, there was little probability that he would live more than two or three years. This was so long ago that techniques now used to repair such defects were unknown. We had the blessing of having a place where doctors agreed to attempt to perform the needed surgery. The surgery had to be done while his little heart was beating.
The surgery was performed just six weeks after the birth and death of our baby daughter. When the operation finished, the principal surgeon came in and said it was a success. And we thought, “How wonderful! Our son will have a strong body, be able to run and walk and grow!” We expressed deep gratitude to the Lord. Then about 10 minutes later, the same doctor came in with an ashen face and told us, “Your son has died.” Apparently the shock of the operation was more than his little body could endure.
Later, during the night, I embraced my wife and said to her, “We do not need to worry, because our children were born in the covenant. We have the assurance that we will have them with us in the future. Now we have a reason to live extremely well. We have a son and a daughter who have qualified to go to the celestial kingdom because they died before the age of eight.” That knowledge has given us great comfort. We rejoice in the knowledge that all seven of our children are sealed to us for time and all eternity.
That trial has not been a problem for either of us because when we live righteously and have received the ordinances of the temple, everything else is in the hands of the Lord. We can do the best we can, but the final outcome is up to Him. We should never complain, when we are living worthily, about what happens in our lives.
Fourteen years ago the Lord decided it was not necessary for my wife to live any longer on the earth, and He took her to the other side of the veil. I confess that there are times when it is difficult not to be able to turn and talk to her, but I do not complain. The Lord has allowed me, at important moments in my life, to feel her influence through the veil.
What I am trying to teach is that when we keep the temple covenants we have made and when we live righteously in order to maintain the blessings promised by those ordinances, then come what may, we have no reason to worry or to feel despondent.
I know that I will have the privilege of being with that beautiful wife, whom I love with all my heart, and with those children who are with her on the other side of the veil because of the ordinances that are performed in the temple. What a blessing to have once again on the earth the sealing authority, not only for this mortal life but for the eternities. I am grateful that the Lord has restored His gospel in its fulness, including the ordinances that are required for us to be happy in the world and to live everlastingly happy lives in the hereafter.
This is the work of the Lord. Jesus Christ lives. This is His Church. I am a witness of Him and of His Atonement, which is the foundation that makes effective and lasting every ordinance performed in the temples. I so testify with every capacity I possess, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

As all of you are aware, last fall a terrible storm hit Central America. For six days and nights, Hurricane Mitch locked in over that area and particularly over Honduras. The winds blew ferociously and the rains fell without letup. Rivers swelled and took with them houses that had been built along their banks. More than 200 bridges were washed out in Honduras, destroying means of travel. The soil from the highlands washed towards the sea in a deluge of filthy mud. Houses were filled to the tops of the windows. Yards and streets were filled. People fled in terror, leaving all behind them.
One of our bishops secured a big truck and went about gathering his people, taking them to higher ground. When the truck could no longer get through, he somehow secured a boat. He was looking after his flock.
I went down there to see what had happened and to give comfort, where possible. I beheld a miracle. I witnessed in operation the simple and marvelously effective organization of this Church.
Every member of this Church has a bishop or a branch president. I have only commendation for other relief efforts which came in from across the world. But I have unending admiration for the wonderful manner in which the Church operated. The bishops appealed to their stake presidents, who appealed to the Area Presidency, who appealed to headquarters here in Salt Lake City. Within hours, great quantities of basic foodstuffs, medicine, and clothing were on their way from our storehouses.
A warehouse was rented in San Pedro Sula in the area of the greatest damage. It was the bishops who marshaled their people to work shifts in the warehouse putting into plastic bags enough food to take care of a family for a week, clothing to put on their backs, medicine to safeguard them against disease. Every bishop knew his own people. He, with his Relief Society president, knew their needs. These were not faceless strangers working as employees of government. They were friends, each a member of a ward family small enough that they knew one another’s needs. There was no argument, no greedy grasping for food and clothing. Everything was orderly. It was systematic. It was friendly. It was motivated by love and concern, and it was done quickly to meet an immediate need. It was the gospel at work in a quiet and magnificent manner.
The waters finally subsided, but mud was left in a thick and ugly coating on everything. Nothing became more valuable than shovels and wheelbarrows. And together, again under the direction of the bishops, the mud was cleaned from the houses.
We visited a meetinghouse on a Saturday. There were many people there, with a bishop, a loving father to his flock, giving direction. The pews, which had been floating in the water, were taken out and carefully cleaned. Mud was scraped from the walls and the floors. Then the mops came out and the polishing cloths, and before nightfall that Saturday evening, the building had been made ready for worship services on the Sabbath.

My sisters and I were talking about how well we did feeding our neighbor’s dogs. My mom said she would pay us for doing such a great job. Then my mom reminded us about tithing. I made a big fuss about that. Then my mom said I could either keep all my money or give tithing to the bishop. I knew that paying tithing was the right thing to do. I was happy I made the right choice, and I hope Heavenly Father was too.

Church pioneers in family history have had to learn to be very resourceful. In October 1939, L. Garrett Myers and Ernst Koehler were in charge of the first microfilming of records outside of Utah. They worked out of a hotel room in Tennessee. A big, troublesome fan in the hotel’s kitchen caused vibrations in their room that made working with the cameras difficult, so Brother Koehler decided they would have to film the records between ten at night and early morning, when the fan wasn’t turned on. They used the bathtub to process the film in and a clothesline to dry it on.

A few days later we were reading scriptures in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Mom and I sat on the bed, and Eli stood next to us, holding Susie. We read about being witnesses for Jesus Christ. “To be a witness means that we tell people about Jesus,” Mom explained. “How do we help Eli know about Jesus?”
“We love him,” I said.
“That’s a very good way,” Mom said.
Suddenly, something warm and fuzzy landed in my lap. It was Susie Bear.
“Hannah. Susie,” Eli said, pointing at me.
“Is it my turn to play with Susie?” I asked him.
Eli nodded.
“That’s so nice, Eli,” Mom told him. “Hannah, I think Eli loves you a lot.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And I love him a lot too.”