Gospel Story Finder

Dad was sitting on the front lawn, cleaning his bicycle. “Can I help you, Dad?” Michael asked.
“No thank you, Son—it’s too messy. Go ask your mother if you can help her.”
Mom was in back of the garage, painting a bookshelf.
“Can I help you, Mom?”
“No thank you, honey—this paint is sticky,” Mom said. “Go ask Mary if you can help her.”
His sister was in the kitchen, baking cookies.
“Can I help you, Mary?”
“No thank you, Michael—this oven is hot.”
Michael walked sadly out of the kitchen. “There’s no one I can help,” he said.
Just then the baby cried.
“The baby’s crying, and I can’t leave this to get her,” Dad called to Mom.
“I’m too messy to get the baby,” Mom called to Mary.
“I have to take the cookies out of the oven right now, or they’ll burn. I can’t get the baby either,” Mary called back to Mom and Dad.
Dad cleaned the bicycle grease off his hands and went to get the baby. Mom cleaned the paint off her hands and went to get the baby. Mary took the cookies out of the oven and went to get the baby. When they opened the door to the baby’s room, they saw her laughing and playing in her crib.
“I helped her,” Michael said proudly. “I sang a little song and shared my toys with her.”
The baby laughed, waving a toy car up and down.

Ten cents is for capital. Put it somewhere where you cannot access it or use it. This could be for 10, 15, or more years. When I think of these ten cents, I am reminded of my mother. She would sift through very good ground nuts and maize and put some aside for seeds. She would fumigate them—or so we were made to believe, so that we would not be tempted to roast that maize and eat those groundnuts when we were hungry. Mother never used the seeds, even in dire situations. She would rather have us go without than to eat those seeds. They were to be planted in the following rainy season and have them multiply. She would do the same in each harvest. She was never dependent on government handouts.7

My friends and I crept up to the darkened porch. We placed the package in the middle of the welcome mat and pressed the doorbell, setting off a ring inside the house. The three of us ran and hid behind some bushes.
A light went on, and we watched as the object of our “attack” opened the front door and looked around before noticing what lay at her feet. She bent down, picked it up, and stood there on the porch reading the letter we’d written just for her. A smile slowly crept across her face, and her eyes scanned the area. Seeing nothing unusual—we were too well-hidden—she took her treat into the house.
It was just after the school year began. A few of us had wanted to make our senior year extra special. We decided to take our fellow seniors some cookies and a special note, telling them something we admired about them and calling ourselves the “Ram Phantom” because our school mascot was a ram. It took only once, and we were addicted. Soon every Saturday night was spent coming up with people we thought needed a pick-me-up.
That night Andrea (name has been changed) was on our list. I was especially excited because she was also in my ward. Andrea was painfully shy, and I had watched her all week at school, noticing that she seemed even more down than usual. So when we were discussing names, I made sure to bring her up.
The next day during Young Women, the lesson was on service. Our teacher asked for examples of service given and received. The entire class was surprised when Andrea’s hand went up. She said she had been having a really hard time lately. In her prayers she had been asking Heavenly Father to show her that someone noticed her, that someone really cared. Then last night, the doorbell rang, and someone had left her cookies and a note. She told us it was an answer to her prayers to know that someone thought good things about her.
At school the next day I noticed a change in Andrea. She looked people in the eye, perhaps wondering if they were the Ram Phantom. I told my friends what Andrea had said, and a feeling of peace settled over us, knowing we’d made a little difference in someone’s life.

Years ago, when our six children were young, we decided we wanted to make general conference more meaningful to us. We talked about how important it is to watch conference with clear minds and rested bodies. Conference is an important time to receive instruction from our current prophets. So we set a goal not to plan anything extra for a few days before conference or during conference weekend. We blocked out those days on our calendar, and each of us committed not to schedule extra activities on those days.
If you choose to take a similar approach, it will be unique to your family and your situation, but our family defined “extra activities” as attending school activities, having neighborhood children come over, doing things with friends away from the house, having parties or dinners with friends or relatives, doing projects or yard work in between or during conference sessions, saving school projects until the last minute, and accepting extra assignments at work.
When the week before general conference arrived, it was sometimes hard to say no to these activities, but most of the time our family members cheerfully made the right choices to meet our goal. We found that our younger children wanted to be part of general conference. I think it was because we talked about the importance of conference over and over throughout the week before.
I am happy to report that keeping our schedule simple the days before and during general conference completely changed our family’s experience. Our hearts and minds were prepared for conference. Our time was not cluttered with extra activities, so we could feel the Spirit as we sat and listened to the words of counsel from our leaders.
We have stuck to our goal conference after conference because it fills our home with peace. Though several of our children no longer live at home, we encourage them to still clear their calendar the few days before and during conference, as we do at home. We also try to schedule a time to watch a session of conference together as an entire family. I am hoping that as our children marry and have children of their own, they will continue to place a high importance on protecting their conference experience by clearing their calendars.

My testimony on the issue of reaching out beyond the walls of our own church increased 10 years ago when I was the managing director of the welfare program of the Church. At that time, we began seeing television documentaries about the drought conditions in Ethiopia. With sensitivity to the plight of the starving people in Africa and sensitivity to your desires to help, the First Presidency called a special fast in January and again in November of 1985. As a result, many millions of dollars were donated to help alleviate the suffering.
To determine how to spend the funds donated in the first special fast, Elder M. Russell Ballard and I went to Ethiopia to see the situation firsthand. We had some heart-wrenching, soul-stretching, and faith-promoting experiences. Neither of us will be the same again. Some of my most vivid memories are not of the terrible suffering we witnessed, which you saw on your television screens, but of the great outpouring of love and service from nations of the world. We saw doctors and nurses giving humanitarian service in deplorable settings. They were tired, but smiling.
We learned of a Catholic priest who had been laboring in the drought- and war-stricken province of Tigre for 11 years. He saw a need and was trying to help long before the television and news accounts made it fashionable.
We saw an Ethiopian man who was perhaps 80 years old stumble into the feeding station camp with a desperate, beaten look on his face.
He was obviously starving to death. However, on the way to the feeding station, he had passed a deserted village and had heard the cry of a baby. He searched until he found the baby sitting on the ground next to his dead mother. In spite of this man’s emaciated condition, he picked up the baby and carried him in his arms for 25 miles to the feeding station. The man had a look of glassy-eyed bewilderment, but his first words were not “I’m hungry” or “Help me.” They were “What can be done for this baby I found?”
I feel that the members of our church should be doing all we can to alleviate suffering. I am thrilled with the fact that our full-time missionaries now devote several hours of their week to community service. When followed properly, this program does not detract from the primary goal of missionaries, but enhances that goal.
An experience I had in Guatemala observing some welfare missionaries had a great impact on me. When the welfare sisters walked onto the church grounds, the atmosphere became electric. Men, women, and children alike ran to them and embraced them. I was told the sisters had helped them through a recent epidemic. They had helped deliver some babies and were present when some members of the families had died. They had brought food for both the soul and the body.
Knowing that we have been commanded to care for the poor and needy within and without the Church, what priorities should be placed on those two activities?
President Joseph F. Smith taught: “It is the first duty of Latter-day Saints to take care of themselves and of their poor; and then, if we can extend it to others, and as wide and as far as we can extend charity and assistance to others that are not members of the Church, we feel that it is our duty to do it. But first look after the members of our own household” (Gospel Doctrine, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1939, page 308).
I testify to you that in today’s environment there is room for both caring for our own and helping with the problems in the world’s society. Building the kingdom and improving the world are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are compatible and complementary. When asked which of all the commandments was the greatest, the Lord said: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 22:37–39).
The greatest commandment, to love God, was not given priority at the expense or exclusion of the second commandment, to love our neighbor. I do not think a sincere love of the Savior is possible without a sincere love of mankind. Neither do I believe it is possible to have sincere love and concern for Church members to the exclusion of the rest of God’s children. Compassion knows no political or religious boundaries. We cannot do everything, but still we must do everything we can.
Something spiritual happens to a person when he reaches out to help someone else. President Spencer W. Kimball put it this way: “As givers gain control of their desires and properly see other needs in light of their own wants, then the powers of the gospel are released in their lives. They learn that by living the great law of consecration they insure not only temporal salvation but also spiritual sanctification” (Ensign, November 1977, page 77).
If individuals completely abdicate to the Church their responsibility of caring for the poor, this beautiful phenomenon does not occur. This is true whether the help is going to members or nonmembers. I say this because there may be a tendency to pay tithing and fast offerings and feel all has been taken care of. The greatest sanctification takes place with person-to-person help. Hence, the greatest compassionate service each of us can give may be in our own neighborhoods and communities. Wherever we live in the world, there is pain and sorrow all around us. We need to take more initiative as individuals in deciding how we can best be of service.
I am so pleased that the projects which went on throughout the world as part of the Relief Society sesquicentennial celebration in 1992 were local service projects. There was some thought given to having wards in more affluent countries reach out across the ocean and help other wards in impoverished nations. Instead, an inspired determination was that projects would be done on a local basis. If projects had been undertaken 5,000 miles away instead of in the sisters’ own backyard, they would have missed seeing firsthand the joy in the face of a lonely old man or woman in a nursing home, or the thanksgiving expressed by a woman met in a crisis center, or the tears of gratitude expressed by the invalid who had her home spring-cleaned for the first time in 10 years.
We don’t do these things for firsthand credit or to have the person’s profuse gratitude, but something very spiritual happens between the giver and receiver of personal service. Both are edified, and a spiritual bonding takes place. A love comes into the heart which is large enough to encompass not only the person served but all of God’s children.
All people need to give. This is true of both affluent Saints and the poorest of the poor. Poverty is a relative term. It means something much different in one country than in another. There is no common solution or program for every situation.
However, principles are universal. We cannot bring everyone to the same economic level. To do so would violate principles and foster dependence rather than independence. People living in each country have the primary responsibility for solving their own problems. They must sacrifice for each other in order that they can experience the sanctification which comes from giving.
During a trip to South America a few years ago, I spoke with a stake president whose stake had experienced over 50 percent unemployment of members during the previous three years. I knew the stake had received less than 200 dollars in assistance from the area office during that period. I asked him how the members had been able to survive without a large infusion of outside help.
His answer was that the families had helped each other—not just father, mother, sons, and daughters, but uncles, aunts, and cousins. When a cousin got a job, the money earned went to benefit everyone. In addition, ward members looked after each other and shared what they had, however meager. With tears in his eyes, he explained how close his stake members were to each other and to the Lord. Their spirituality had increased manyfold.
We could have poured money into this stake from more affluent areas and felt good about it. However, in so doing we would have robbed them of the opportunity to serve each other and to become sanctified in the process. The solutions to poverty are extremely complex, and the balance between too much aid and not enough is very elusive. Our compassion can lead to failure if we give aid without creating independence and self-reliance in the recipient.
On the other hand, there is a state of human misery below which no Latter-day Saint should descend as long as others are living in abundance. Can some of us be content living affluent life-styles while others cannot afford the chlorine to purify their water? I struggle constantly with this balance. I believe I have learned a divine truth, however. I cannot become sanctified without serving others, and I will be held accountable if I rob another of the opportunity to give service.
We cannot, as individuals, be spectators to the pain and suffering around us and sit idly by and expect sanctification to take place in our lives. There is a limit to how much we should rely on institutional welfare. We cannot allow organizational lines to set up a buffer between a person in pain and ourselves, if we are in a position to help.
Without this perspective, there is danger in setting up an organizational structure that does indeed provide more efficiency but which also becomes an organizational wall between ourselves and people in need. At the first sign of someone in need, we may release ourselves from reaching out because, after all, we are not their bishop or even their home teacher or visiting teacher. Often there is a cry for help that has your name preceding it, and you may be the only one who can hear the cry.
I trust we will continue to see humanitarian aid given by the Church as long as it effectively facilitates our individual desires to reach out to the poor and needy. However, the primary responsibility of the commandment to care for the poor is our own individual responsibility. We should give financial contributions when possible, but this alone is not complete. We must also give of ourselves. We can often give of ourselves when a financial contribution is not possible.
In this respect, I am as touched by what the Savior did on his way to deliver the Sermon on the Mount as by what he said in the sermon. On his way, he healed the sick and preached the gospel (see Matt. 4:23–24).
As I speak about “taking care of the poor,” I am referring to the broad array of affliction the people in the world are experiencing in our day. This includes supporting and comforting those suffering in mind, body, and spirit. Money cannot buy the pure love of Christ. It can be obtained only by sacrifice.
I realize that some of you—with the demands of your families, close friends, and Church callings—have little left with which to save the world. Sanctification comes from service rendered to our own families as well as to strangers. It has not been my objective to make you feel guilty, but to teach some principles of caring for the needy. You and only you know your own unique situation and can determine how you can use these principles at your particular age and circumstances.
My promise is that as you review these infinite needs in relation to your finite resources, you will be able to formulate a plan which will give the appropriate balance. I can also promise you that the things the gospel asks of us are not mutually exclusive but are complementary to each other. Speaking for myself and all of the Brethren, I give you our heartfelt love and gratitude for all you are and all you do.

My name is Matilda, and I am from Chile. Ever since moving to another country, other kids have made me notice that I am different from them. They have laughed at my curly hair, the color of my eyes, my eyebrows, and even the color of my skin. They have called me ugly and weird and even told me that I am poor because I look different than everyone else.
My mom has taught me to respond to bullying with a smile. She says many times that people who bully are sad or are living with something that hurts them. She has also taught me that it’s not my fault, and being different is something good and wonderful. God created different kinds of things in the world like different plants, places, and people. It doesn’t matter how we look as long as we have a good heart.
Since my mom taught me that, every time I get bullied, I think about it and talk to the person who is saying bad things. I try to stop the situation. Once I told a classmate that saying bad things about others can hurt a lot. I said that he doesn’t know what happens to others in their hearts when they hear bad things about themselves for being different. Since that day, that classmate hasn’t made fun of me anymore, and now we are friends.
I think the way my mom taught me to fight bullying is the best way. She taught me to fight bullying with love, as God would do it. I try to always ask myself, “What would Jesus Christ do in this situation?” This has helped me come closer to our Heavenly Father.

“My attitude toward the law of tithing was set in place by the example and words of my mother, illustrated in a conversation I remember from my youth.

“During World War II, my widowed mother supported her three young children on a schoolteacher’s salary that was meager. When I became conscious that we went without some desirable things because we didn’t have enough money, I asked my mother why she paid so much of her salary as tithing. I have never forgotten her explanation: ‘Dallin, there might be some people who can get along without paying tithing, but we can’t. The Lord has chosen to take your father and leave me to raise you children. I cannot do that without the blessings of the Lord, and I obtain those blessings by paying an honest tithing. When I pay my tithing, I have the Lord’s promise that he will bless us, and we must have those blessings if we are to get along.’”2

One Sunday when I was a deacon, I was in the foyer with a tray of water passing the sacrament when a woman walked into the building. Dutifully, I approached and handed her the tray. She nodded, smiled, and took a cup of water. She had arrived too late to receive the bread. Shortly after this experience, my home teacher, Ned Brimley, taught me that many aspects and blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ are given to us in sequential order.

Later that week, Ned and his companion came to our home with a memorable lesson. Ned reminded us that there was order to how God created the earth. The Lord took great care in explaining to Moses the order in which He created the earth. First, He started by dividing the light from the darkness, then water from dry land. He added plant life and animals before introducing to the newly formed planet His greatest creation: humankind, beginning with Adam and Eve.

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. …

“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1:27, 31).

The Lord was pleased. And He rested on the seventh day.

The sequential order in which the earth was created gives us a glimpse not only of what is most important to God but also why and for whom He created the earth.

Ned Brimley punctuated his inspired lesson with a simple statement: “Vai, God’s house is one of order. He expects you to live your life with order. In proper sequence. He wants you to serve a mission before you get married.” To this point, Church leaders currently teach that “the Lord expects each able young man to prepare to serve. … Young women … who desire to serve should also prepare” (General Handbook: Serving in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 24.0, ChurchofJesusChrist.org). Brother Brimley continued: “God wants you to get married before you have children. And He wants you to continually develop your talents as you earn an education.” If you choose to live your life out of sequence, you will find life more difficult and chaotic.

Brother Brimley also taught us that through His atoning sacrifice, the Savior helps us to restore order to our lives made chaotic or out of sequence by our own or others’ poor choices.

From that time on, I’ve had a fascination with “sequential order.” I developed a habit of looking for sequential patterns in life and in the gospel.

Elder David A. Bednar taught this principle: “As we study, learn, and live the gospel of Jesus Christ, sequence often is instructive. Consider, for example, the lessons we learn about spiritual priorities from the order of the major events that occurred as the fulness of the Savior’s gospel was restored in these latter days.”

Elder Bednar listed the First Vision and Moroni’s initial appearance to Joseph Smith as teaching the boy prophet first, the nature and character of God, followed by the role the Book of Mormon and Elijah would play in gathering Israel on both sides of the veil in this last dispensation.

Elder Bednar concludes: “This inspiring sequence is instructive about the spiritual matters of highest priority to Deity” (“The Hearts of the Children Shall Turn,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2011, 24).

One observation I’ve made is that “sequential order” is a simple, natural, and effective way for the Lord to teach us, as His children, important principles.

We’ve come to earth to learn and gain experience we would not otherwise have. Our growth is unique to each of us individually and a vital component of Heavenly Father’s plan. Our physical and spiritual growth begins in stages and develops slowly as we gain experience sequentially.

Alma gives a powerful sermon on faith—drawing on the analogy of a seed, which, if tended and nourished properly, sprouts from a small sapling into a full-grown, mature tree that produces delicious fruit (see Alma 32:28–43). The lesson is that your faith will increase as you give place for and nourish the seed—or the word of God—in your hearts. Your faith will increase as the word of God begins “to swell within your breasts” (verse 28). That it “swelleth, and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow” (verse 30) is both visual and instructive. It is also sequential.

The Lord teaches us individually according to our capacity to learn and how we learn. Our growth is dependent on our willingness, natural curiosity, level of faith, and understanding.

Nephi was taught what Joseph Smith would learn in Kirtland, Ohio, over 2,300 years later: “For behold, thus saith the Lord God: I will give unto the children of men line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts, and lend an ear unto my counsel, for they shall learn wisdom” (2 Nephi 28:30).

That we learn “line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little” is again sequential.

Consider the following statements we’ve heard most of our lives: “First things first” or “Feed them milk before meat.” How about “We have to walk before we run”? Each of these axioms describes something that is sequential.

Miracles operate according to sequential order. Miracles occur when we first exercise faith. Faith precedes the miracle.

Young men are also ordained to offices of the Aaronic Priesthood in sequence, according to the age of the one being ordained: deacon, teacher, and then priest.

The ordinances of salvation and exaltation are sequential in nature. We are baptized prior to receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost. Temple ordinances are similarly sequential. Of course, as my friend Ned Brimley so wisely taught me, the sacrament is sequential—it begins with the bread, followed by the water.

“And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body.

“And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it;

“For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins” (Matthew 26:26–28).

In Jerusalem and in the Americas, the Savior instituted the sacrament in the exact same order.

“Behold, mine house is a house of order, saith the Lord God, and not a house of confusion” (Doctrine and Covenants 132:8).

Repentance is sequential. It begins with faith in Jesus Christ, even if just a particle. Faith requires humility, which is an essential element of having a “broken heart and a contrite spirit” (2 Nephi 2:7).

Indeed, the first four principles of the gospel are sequential. “We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost” (Articles of Faith 1:4).

King Benjamin taught his people this important truth: “And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order” (Mosiah 4:27).

May we live our lives with order and seek to follow the sequence the Lord has outlined for us. We will be blessed as we look for and follow the patterns and the sequence in which the Lord teaches what’s most important to Him. In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One time my teacher was saying a word that my parents told me not to say. I prayed and talked with my parents so that I would have enough courage to tell her that I didn’t like her using that word. Finally, after several days of praying and talking with my parents, I gained the strength to tell my teacher what I thought. It worked! I did not hear her say that word for the rest of the year. I know it was the right thing to do.

BOOM! BOOM!
It was three o’clock in the morning, and the city was being bombed. One minute Grace had been asleep in her bed, and the next, Dad was telling everyone to get under cover. Now Grace was huddled under the kitchen table with her dad, mom, and younger brothers, Heber and Alvin. She could hear the rumble of explosions and glass shattering outside. It was so loud!
“What’s going to happen to us?” Grace asked Dad.
Dad stroked her hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “But let’s say a prayer.”
The Vlam family held each other close.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Dad prayed, “please keep our family safe.”
After a while, the noise quieted down. There were no more explosions. They were safe!
Mom took Grace’s hand and smiled at her. “Remember when we were sealed in the temple?”
Grace nodded. When they had moved from Indonesia to Holland, they were able to stop in Utah and be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple.
“Whatever happens, God will take care of our family,” Mom said.
The next day, Grace heard air-raid sirens when she was outside on the city plaza. She looked up and saw planes above her head, with little black things falling from them. She stood there, staring, her mouth wide open.
A man started shouting at her. “Run! Those are bombs!”
Grace raced home, her heart pounding as she finally made it safely through the front door.
A few days later, the Nazis—who were the government leaders of Germany—officially took over Holland. Sometimes they took people who had been military officers as prisoners. Because Dad had been an officer in the Dutch military, the Nazi officers watched him carefully.
“But that won’t happen to Dad,” Grace thought. “We’re members of the Church, and Dad is a leader in the mission presidency. God will protect him.”
After the bombings, the Vlam family had to leave their city. One day at her new school, Grace heard other students whispering.
“Some people were taken prisoner today!”
“Will they ever come back?”
Grace was scared. Was Dad OK? She ran home as fast she could. As she burst through the door, she saw Mom in the hallway.
“Is it true?” Grace asked. “Is Dad gone?”
Mom didn’t say anything, but Grace knew from Mom’s sad eyes that Dad had been taken away. He was a prisoner of war. Grace leaned against the wall. She was too afraid to even cry.
“What do we do now?” she thought.
At that moment, Grace heard a voice say, “You will see your father again.” The voice was calm and clear. Grace knew it was the voice of the Holy Ghost. It made her feel a little better.
She didn’t know exactly what would happen, but she did know that Heavenly Father would take care of her and her family.
To be continued …

Last year while Elder David S. Baxter and I were driving to a stake conference, we stopped at a restaurant. Later when returning to our car, we were approached by a woman who called out to us. We were startled by her appearance. Her grooming (or lack of it) was what I might politely call “extreme.” She asked if we were elders in the Church. We said yes. Almost unrestrained, she told the story of her tragic life, swamped in sin. Now, only 28 years old, she was miserable. She felt worthless, with nothing to live for. As she spoke, the sweetness of her soul began to emerge. Pleading tearfully, she asked if there was any hope for her, any way up and out of her hopelessness.
“Yes,” we responded, “there is hope. Hope is linked to repentance. You can change. You can ‘come unto Christ, and be perfected in him.’” We urged her not to procrastinate. She sobbed humbly and thanked us sincerely.
As Elder Baxter and I continued our journey, we pondered that experience. We recalled the counsel given to a hopeless soul by Aaron, who said, “If thou wilt repent of all thy sins, and will bow down before God, and call on his name in faith, … then shalt thou receive the hope which thou desirest.”

Several years ago I was working in my garden and was delighted to see a family of quail. I watched the father sitting on top of the wall standing guard. The mother was busy keeping her 10 precious babies together and seemed to be demonstrating how to peck in the earth for food. I was fascinated. I carefully and quietly walked closer. All too soon I was detected by the watchful father, and he let out a warning call. The mother tried to guide the children around the wall to safety, but I—the danger—was too near, and she became frustrated and confused and flew up on the wall by the father. I didn’t want to harm this family, so I quickly retreated out of sight.
Unlike my experience with the quail family, the dangers threatening the lives of our families do not retreat. Satan rejoices in our confusion and frustration, and his influences surround us. We turn on the television—is this a family show? We hear something coming out of our child’s room—is this music? We try to pick a movie—did this one really have an acceptable rating?
Sometimes Satan’s influences are more subtle. I have asked myself these questions: Do I leave my children exposed to danger when I don’t teach them the truths of the gospel? Do I neglect their souls when I don’t help them recognize the promptings of the Spirit and the guidance they can receive? Do I leave my children exposed to danger when my example is not the same as my words or when I don’t share my love in such a way that each child feels it deeply?

Katy Mangus was crowned Miss Legend at Oconee County High School’s annual pageant in January 2005. A Laurel in the Athens Second Ward, Athens Georgia Stake, Katy stood out from the other contestants in many ways—but one distinction was the most obvious. Of the 30 contestants who each took the stage in a formal evening gown, Katy was the only one whose dress was modest. When she stood at the microphone to introduce herself and her platform, she explained, “Something that influences our everyday lives—how we feel about ourselves and how we interact with others—is my platform: ‘Making a Difference with Modesty.’”

By choosing to stand for modesty, Katy hoped to set an example for other young people, both in and out of the Church, and to encourage them to take a stand and make a difference through modesty in dress and behavior. She said, “We can influence others for the better by being an example of modesty and setting a higher standard for ourselves.”

Just a few weeks ago, in Guatemala City, Guatemala, I witnessed a modern miracle—even the result of God’s guidance given to His servants and the blessing of His people.

At a regional conference, almost twelve thousand members filled the Estadio del Ejercito, the local soccer stadium. The sun bathed with its rays the large gathering, while the Spirit of the Lord filled every heart. This was a day of thanksgiving, marking the forty-second anniversary of the arrival of the first missionaries to that land. John Forres O’Donnal spoke to the vast throng. He it was who, in 1946, stood alone as the only member of the Church in that nation. Personally importuning then President George Albert Smith, Brother O’Donnal facilitated the entry of the first missionaries. His wife, Carmen Galvez de O’Donnal, became the first convert and was baptized on November 13, 1948. This day of conference, as throughout the years of their marriage, she sat by her husband’s side.

While President O’Donnal spoke, my thoughts drifted back to the many missionaries who had come to this land and the hardships they endured, the sacrifices they made, and the lives they blessed. The experience of one describes the devotion of all. While I have, on a previous occasion, mentioned the experience of this missionary, following my recent visit to Guatemala I felt impressed to share it with you once again.

While serving in Guatemala as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Randall Ellsworth survived a devastating earthquake, which hurled a beam down on his back, paralyzing his legs and severely damaging his kidneys. He was the only American injured in the quake, which claimed the lives of some eighteen thousand persons.

After receiving emergency medical treatment, Elder Ellsworth was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While he was confined there, a newscaster conducted with him an interview that I witnessed through the miracle of television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?”

The answer, “Not yet, but I will.”

“Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?”

Came the reply: “Others think not, but I will. With the President of my church praying for me, and through the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will walk, and I will return to Guatemala. The Lord wanted me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”

There followed a lengthy period of therapy, punctuated by silent yet heroic courage. Little by little, the feeling began to return to the almost lifeless limbs. More therapy, more courage, more prayer.

At last Randall Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he had been called, back to the people whom he loved. He left behind a trail of skeptics and a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the reward of determination.

In Guatemala, Randall pursued his responsibilities. He walked with the use of two canes. His walk was slow and deliberate. Then one day, as he stood before his mission president, Randall Ellsworth heard him speak the almost unbelievable words, “You have been the recipient of a miracle. Your faith has been rewarded. If you have the necessary confidence, if you have abiding faith, if you have supreme courage, place those two canes on my desk—and walk.”

Slowly, Randall placed one cane and then the other on the mission president’s desk, turned toward the door and toward his future—and walked.

Today, Randall Ellsworth is a practicing physician. He is a stalwart husband and a loving father. His mission president was none other than John Forres O’Donnal—the man who helped bring to Guatemala the word of the Lord, the leader who on Sunday, March 5, 1989, addressed the throng assembled for regional conference.

Forres O’Donnal visited my office not long ago and, in his modest manner, recounted his experience with Randall Ellsworth. He then said to me, “Together we have witnessed a miracle. I have kept one of the two canes placed upon my desk that day when I challenged Elder Ellsworth to walk without them. I would like you to have the other.” With a friendly smile, he departed the office and returned home to Guatemala.

This is the cane given to me. It serves as a silent witness of our Heavenly Father’s ability to hear our prayers and to bless our lives. It is a symbol of faith. It is a reminder of courage.

Later, I offered to assist two members of a family that lived nearby who were struggling. They accepted my help and became part of my household.
I didn’t have the financial means, however, to support us. So I had to work harder than ever, supporting three people instead of one. It was a big lifestyle change.
To navigate that change, I knew I needed to follow my mother’s words and hold tight to the iron rod. Holding on to the iron rod includes remembering the Savior and studying the word of God. I needed to set a good example, communicate more with God, and study the scriptures every day. So, we started studying the scriptures together. Soon, the Spirit became abundant in our home.
The most fulfilling and wonderful times of my life have come from holding to the iron rod. I have also learned that “as you hold on to the iron rod, you will walk hand in hand with Jesus Christ. He will be guiding you, and He will be teaching you.”

A letter and an old ashtray came to the office of the Presiding Bishop. The letter reads: “Dear Sir, I stole the enclosed ashtray from your hotel in 1965. After these many years, I want to apologize to you and ask for your forgiveness for my wrongdoing. Sincerely, (signature)
“P.S. I have enclosed a check that attempts to reimburse you for the ashtray.”
The check was in the amount of $26.00, one dollar for each year he had kept the ashtray. I can imagine that during those twenty-six years, each time he tapped his cigarette on the rim of that tray he suffered a twinge of conscience. I do not know that the hotel ever missed the ashtray, but the man who took it missed his peace of mind for more than a quarter of a century and finally ended up paying far more for the stolen tray than it was worth. Yes, honesty is the best policy.

Camping is not my thing.
Which is why everyone who knew me was surprised when I, along with a good friend, signed up for a weekend camping trip to Colorado, USA, with a bunch of strangers for no reason other than that I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and feel a little more adventurous.
It was about 3 a.m. the first night when it started pouring rain. I stared up at the paper-thin walls of my tent, mentally begging them to keep me dry and sincerely regretting my decision to come. I spent the rest of the trip enjoying the views but mostly trying not to embarrass myself; I was less outdoorsy than most of the people I was traveling with, and I worried constantly that I would look incompetent.
On the final night of the trip, my friend and I ventured outside to try to enjoy the nature that we’d traveled so far to see. As we stood outside our tent, my friend surprised me with her astronomy knowledge, pointing out Taurus, the Pleiades, and Cassiopeia, tracing her finger along the sky as she told me stories about the clusters of stars. It was a beautiful, peaceful moment.
The longer we stood there, heads tipped back, the more I forgot about my own discomfort. Looking up at the vast, starry sky was humbling. For probably the first time during that trip, I was able to fully appreciate something beautiful instead of worrying about myself and getting caught up in my own silly pride.
I felt the difference between these two feelings on that camping trip. For the majority of the trip, I was self-absorbed, worried about how I looked and smelled and how comfortable I was. But there was a brief moment, during that evening under the stars, when I was able to look outside myself and realize that there is so much more to living in this miraculously beautiful world than what I was experiencing.
That night, I learned to look up when I wanted to stop thinking about myself, and that’s proven to be a pretty effective antidote to pride. As the famed Christian writer C. S. Lewis explained: “In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. … As long as you are proud you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.”3
That trip didn’t change my mind about camping—it’s still not my thing. But I’m grateful that I learned an important lesson about “walk[ing] humbly” (Doctrine and Covenants 11:12) that night, because it taught me something that I not only needed on that trip but will need for the rest of my life. It’s normal to struggle with pride—it’s an inherent part of our mortal experience. But acknowledging it in ourselves and working to overcome it by seeking humility can bring us closer to Christ and help us live happier lives.

Kim and Neil Davis were getting nervous.
You see, they come from a family that believes in setting goals and then doing everything they can to achieve those goals. When they, their parents, and their four brothers and sisters set a goal as a family, there’s almost no stopping them.
That’s why they were getting anxious now. Time was growing short. They had set a goal to introduce a new family to the gospel every six months, and here it was, the last week of that time period, and they had not found even one interested family.
They had fulfilled this goal many times in the past. When the Davises had lived in Boston, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., where few Latter-day Saints live, they could introduce lots of families to the gospel. “Not only would we have them come to our home for the missionary discussions,” says Kim, 14, the oldest daughter, “but we would invite them to family home evenings, special Christmas programs, and other activities.”
But now the family was living in Utah, and it wasn’t as easy finding non-Latter-day Saint families to share the gospel with. The end of their six-month time period was getting closer, and they hadn’t found anyone. The Davises knew theirs was a righteous desire, so they had family prayers and fasted. The six children each asked for help in their individual prayers.
And then, on the last day of the sixth month, their prayers were answered.
“My dad is used to receiving foreign mail from doctors asking for copies of articles,” explains Kim. Her father, Dr. Kim Davis, has had reports of his medical research published in a number of medical journals. “So when he received the letter from Hungary, he didn’t think there would be anything unusual about it, until he opened the envelope and read what was inside.”
“We were so excited!” says Neil, age 12. The letter was from a family in Hungary—the Keresztis. They had seen a television documentary about Utah on Hungarian national television, and it had mentioned the Church and some of its beliefs. What had impressed the Keresztis most was the idea that families could be together forever; They wanted to know more about a church which taught such a belief, so the father, a doctor, and the son, a medical student, searched through old medical journals looking for an address in Utah. The one they happened to find was Dr. Davis’s. The Hungarian family asked if their letter to Dr. Davis could be sent to someone who would send them information about the Church.
Of course, there was no need for the Davis family to forward the Keresztis’ request. They immediately gathered all the Church information in Hungarian they could find, and shipped it to their new-found friends.
Then they wrote their testimonies of the gospel. They put those in an envelope, along with pictures of their family, and sent them to the Keresztis as well.
The Keresztis were amazed when they received a big box so soon from the United States and eagerly began reading the material. They were even more amazed when they received the letter and found that such a large family could be so close and have such strong testimonies of the gospel. Though the Keresztis had only one child, they felt just as strong about family unity and were excited to find something to help them.
Soon the Davises and the Keresztis were exchanging letters and pictures frequently. “We grew very close,” says Kim. “When we got a letter from them, our whole family would pass it around, and we would read it at family home evening. We were so excited to see how they were accepting the gospel in Hungary, and we couldn’t believe it was happening to us.”
In the meantime, the Davises contacted the mission president in Vienna, Austria. Through him, the Keresztis were able to have missionary discussions about once a month.
“When we got the letter saying they were going to be baptized in Vienna, Austria, it was really exciting,” says Neil. “And when we got pictures taken after their baptism, that was great!”

One day I was at an after-school book club. While I was reading the book out loud, I came across a sentence that took the Lord’s name in vain. I got a little scared to say that sentence. So I paused and said a little prayer in my head asking Heavenly Father what I should do. Everyone was staring at me. I was uncomfortable, but I knew the right thing to do. I changed the sentence and didn’t swear. My book-club teacher corrected me and said it the other way, but I didn’t care. I had a warm feeling inside of me. I knew I had made the right choice to not say the Lord’s name in vain.

Seth lay in the dark, wondering what had awakened him. His ears strained to hear a noise, and his heart began to pound. There it was again! He jumped, then sighed with relief. It was the new telephone. They had bought it through a mail-order catalog. His dad and their neighbors, the Smiths, used the top strand of the barbed-wire fence that separated their ranches to string a telephone wire on. Then they used old rubber tires as fence connectors so that the lines wouldn’t short out. When the phone was first connected, Seth had listened to Mrs. Smith’s voice describing their new Appaloosa colt. He was so astonished that he couldn’t say a word.
All the neighbors had clamored to be part of the line. Everywhere the barbed-wire fences stretched, neighbor was soon connected to neighbor. Mrs. Bowers even put a switchboard in her house so that callers could be switched from one line to another. Now Seth’s family was even linked by the prairie line to Grandpa and Grandma.
Seth sat up in bed. Grandpa and Grandma! Had something happened to them? Who was calling in the wee hours of the morning? He pulled on his jeans and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
His father was still talking on the telephone. “I’m sure he’ll do it for you. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take him over later today.” He hung the earpiece on its hook, then turned slowly around. “What are you doing up?” he asked Seth in surprise. Dad looked awful.
“What’s happened?” Seth whispered.
His mother stood in the doorway, with baby Janet in her arms. She, too, waited for the answer.
“Grandpa’s had a heart attack,” Father said quietly. “They’re taking him to the hospital in Gillette.”
“Oh, no!” Mother cried. “Is it very bad?”
“He’ll be fine. He just needs rest. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Then he’ll be able to come home.”
Seth felt a little of the worry ease, but he still wished that he could see Grandpa or do something for him. Grandpa was like a best friend. He’d always been there when Seth needed someone to talk to.
“Until he gets strong again, he wants Seth to take care of the farm,” Father added.
“No,” Mother protested. “Seth’s too young to be in charge of a dairy farm.”
“Now, Grace,” Father reassured her, “Dad has already sold most of his cows, and Seth has helped him before. I think that he can do it for a short time. And when I get the roundup and haying finished, I’ll go over every day and give him a hand.”
“But some of those cows are about to calve,” Mother said. “What if something happens?”
Seth tried to think of a way to help persuade her. “I could call you,” he suggested. “The Smith’s have that Model T. Maybe Dad could borrow it in an emergency.” He stood straight and tall. “I want to do this for Grandpa and Grandma, Mom. Please let me.”
She looked lovingly at him. “I forgot about the telephone. Yes, you can go. They’ll need your help until Grandpa can be up and around again, and you’re not so far away, after all, if you can telephone.”
Seth hugged her. Then he ran back to his porch bedroom to pack his bag. He was going to Grandpa’s!
At Grandpa’s farm, Seth found himself faced with a bigger responsibility than he had ever imagined. He worked from before sunup each morning till the last of the milk was separated at night. Tired as he was, he still enjoyed turning the handle on the separator and watching the milk pour out into one bucket while the thick cream came out another spout. Oh how good that cream was on hot oatmeal!
Every night he called his parents just after supper. He felt very important as he cranked the handle around and around until Mrs. Bowers answered. “Good evening, Mrs. Bowers,” he greeted her formally. “Would you switch me to the King home, please?”
“Hello there, Seth,” she answered. “How’s your grandpa?”
He’d chat with her for a few moments while she switched him onto his parents’ line.
Everything was fine until Sweetie decided to be difficult. She’s the most contrary Guernsey cow ever born, Seth thought. Guernseys were known for their placid nature—but not Sweetie. She’d rather kick you than look at you. And now she was calving.
Seth went out to the barn and looked at her. He didn’t know much about it, but he could tell that she was in trouble. Carefully he walked into her stall, talking softly to soothe her. She whirled around and kicked at him. He jumped back, but her hoof grazed his shin.
“Ow!” he yelled and ducked back behind the stall. He rubbed the sore spot, then limped a little on his way back to the house. He cranked the handle on the phone and waited impatiently to talk to his mother. “Mom, Sweetie’s having trouble calving. Is Dad around?”
“Oh, Seth,” Mother said worriedly, “he’s out at roundup and won’t be back till tomorrow.” There was a pause, then she added resolutely, “You’ll just have to do the best you can.”
He felt so alone. “But I don’t know what to do.”
In the silence that followed, Mrs. Bowers spoke up. “Just do what you’ve seen your pa do and then pray!”
When Seth hung up the phone, he didn’t know if he should laugh because Mrs. Bowers had been listening in or cry because he couldn’t do what his dad had done. He was too small. And as for praying, he didn’t even know how. He’d never even been inside a church. He went outside and headed slowly toward the barn.
“Hello there!” a voice called out.
He whirled around and saw two men walking toward him. A tall man in a black coat asked, “Are your folks home?”
He shook his head, too miserable to say anything.
“What’s the matter, son?” the other man asked kindly.
Seth looked up and saw a face full of wrinkles, the kind you get from years of squinting in the sun. It was a face like Grandpa’s—weather-beaten and comfortable.
“Grandpa’s in the hospital, and Sweetie’s calf is turned and can’t be born. She won’t let me near her, and even if she did, I couldn’t help her. Mrs. Bowers said to pray, but I don’t know how. Do you?”
The man’s eyes began to twinkle as the whole sad story tumbled out. “Well,” he said, “first things first. I do know how to pray, and I’ll teach you, but for now let’s look at that cow.”
The man headed for the barn at a brisk walk while stripping off his coat. Taken by surprise, Seth ran along beside him, trying to keep up.
The man knew just what he was doing. When Sweetie lashed a hoof at him, he just chuckled. “Kinda bad tempered for a Guernsey, aren’t you?” He looped a rope on that hoof and tied it down, then patted her and began to work.
Seth couldn’t believe how easy it seemed. In just a short time a little calf lay at their feet, too weak yet to get up. He stared at the new little creature and wondered again at the miracle of birth. Would it live? The man handed him some clean straw. “Rub that calf down with this and dry her off. Then we’ll bring her around to her mama. As soon as she gets some warm milk inside her, she’ll be just fine.”
Seth worked carefully over the calf, then carried her to where Sweetie stood, still tethered, in the corner. The calf bumped her udder and, with tail swishing, drank the strengthening milk.
The man brushed his clothes off. “Do you have a pump I can wash off at?”
“Sure. By the back door,” Seth answered. “Say, thanks, mister. Sweetie is Grandpa’s best milker. That’s how she got her name—for her good cream. He’ll be pleased that she’s all right.”
“You’re welcome, son.” He clapped Seth on the back. “I’m a rancher myself.”
Seth looked up at him, puzzled. “Do you live around here?”
“No. My ranch is on a high desert plateau in Arizona.”
“What are you doing in Wyoming?”
“We’re missionaries of the Lord’s church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Oh, so that’s why you know how to pray.”
The man smiled and began to wash. After he washed and put his jacket on, he turned to the boy. “Now it’s time for that first lesson in prayer.” He bowed his head and addressed Heavenly Father. After he thanked Him for the new little heifer and the young boy who was caring for the farm, he asked for help for Seth and strength for his grandpa.
Seth listened in astonishment. It was so easy! Not much harder than talking to Mother on the prairie line. But did God really listen?
The men left then, promising to return the next day to help with the chores. When Seth reported the day’s events that night on the prairie line, he felt thankful. Then he went into his room, knelt by his bed, and tried to talk to Heavenly Father.
The next morning, he found that the missionaries had returned as promised. They helped him with the milking and other chores, and each day Seth prayed for his grandpa and for help to do the things he had to do. Before long Grandpa came home from the hospital and was feeling much better. Seth was happy to see him, and he told him all about the men who had helped him and taught him how to pray.
Grandpa listened carefully, then said, “I think it’s time you learned more about the Lord’s church.”
Soon after that, Seth and his family went to church with the missionaries, and Seth learned that Heavenly Father really was listening. He never forgot the lesson of the prairie line, the calf, and the two missionaries who had stopped to help. From then on, he knew he could pray whenever he needed help.