Gospel Story Finder

Ali looked glumly at her tithing jar. Every time she earned money, she divided it into a jar for tithing, a jar for savings, and a jar for spending money. She had worked hard helping a neighbor stack firewood and pull weeds, but her older sister Carrie had tended the neighbors’ dog and worked picking raspberries for a whole week during the summer. Carrie had earned more money, and her tithing jar showed it.
Today the family would be attending tithing settlement and discussing whether or not they had each paid a full tithe that year. Before church, Ali watched Carrie pour her money into a tithing envelope and fill out the slip. Ali tried not to cry when she counted out her own tithing, but tears burned the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want the Lord to be disappointed in her for paying less. Maybe she could ask her parents for a little extra money to put in her tithing envelope.
Timidly, she crept into the den where Dad was reading.
Dad looked up and motioned for Ali to come and sit on his lap. “Tell me what’s on your mind,” he said.
Ali bravely held the tears back. “Daddy, is my tithing too small?” she asked in nearly a whisper. “I earned $22.50 this year, so I only have $2.25 in tithing to give the bishop today. Carrie has way more than I do. Will Jesus or the bishop be mad at me?”
Dad smiled and looked into her eyes. “Ali, tithing is one-tenth of what we earn. Carrie did a lot of different jobs over the summer. She worked hard for what she earned, don’t you think?”
Ali remembered Carrie coming home from picking raspberries, looking tired and a little sunburned. She also remembered Carrie taking care of the Hamiltons’ dog. Ali nodded.
“You also worked really hard for your money,” Dad said. “Those pieces of firewood that you stacked were heavy and hurt your hands. You were even more tired after you weeded the garden. Isn’t that right?”
Ali easily remembered how heavy her arms had felt carrying all those huge pieces of wood, and how her hands had stung when she washed them after pulling weeds. She had worked hard.
“Ali,” Dad said, “it doesn’t matter to the Lord how much money a person earns as long as he or she works honestly for the money. Then He asks us to give back to Him just one-tenth of what we earned. It doesn’t matter if we earned a lot or a little, as long as we give 10 percent to the bishop.”
“So the bishop will be happy with both me and Carrie even though we have different amounts of tithing?” Ali asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “And Heavenly Father and Jesus will be pleased too.”
Ali could hardly speak because she was so happy. It all made sense. As long as she obeyed the commandments, the Lord would be happy with her. Now she could give the bishop $2.25 and feel just right about it in her heart.

I would like to share a few details of one of these stories to illustrate how remembering the experiences of others can strengthen us.
When the Saints arrived in Utah, there was a need for doctors. Brigham Young called many women to be midwives or nurses. At least two of my ancestors received this call—talk about an intimidating calling! One of them, Ellen Clegg, recounted feeling she was not capable when she was first called. However, after Brigham Young told her she had been called of God in a vision, she accepted the calling and served admirably. A biographical sketch of Grandma Clegg provides these details:

“Sometimes she would go to the sick bed of a mother on horseback or on a mule or sleigh. Other times she had to walk and hold to the horse’s tail as she plowed through the deep snow and blizzards, many times arriving at the home of the sick, her shoes and stockings frozen to her, but these were minor troubles and her greatest desire was to help those who were suffering and in need. One time she was sick and was called to take care of a confinement case. A man came for her on a mule and grandma, although very sick, got behind the man on the mule and, on the way to the sick bed of the woman, the mule threw them off, breaking grandma’s arm, but she attended her patient in this condition and brought happiness to them.”
I get emotional thinking about the army of good women who accepted callings as nurses and midwives despite limited training. They dedicated their lives to quietly serving and caring for their fellow Saints. For any of us who feel unprepared or not good enough to accept a calling, this story can give us confidence that the calling is from God and He will qualify us for the work.

My girl friend used to be very in tune with and enthusiastic about the gospel. But recently she’s been going out with people who have different standards than the Church teaches, and as a result she’s doing things that aren’t good for her. She isn’t attending Mutual and has started drinking and dating boys with bad reputations. I wrote her a letter, telling her how much I love her and the gospel, and I asked her if there is anything I can do. She wrote back saying she knows that what she is doing is wrong. Yet, she keeps doing it. Her family is really strong in the Church. They are trying to help her, but it’s not working. This problem is tearing her apart, and it’s hurting me as well. What should I do?

Every man and woman in this Church knows something of the price paid by our forebears for their faith. I have been reminded of this whenever I read the narrative of Mary Goble Pay, my wife’s grandmother. I think I would like to share a few words from that story of a 13-year-old girl. She tells of her childhood in Brighton, that delightful city on the south coast of England, where the soft, green hills of Sussex roll down to the sea.
It was there that her family was baptized. Their conversion came naturally because the Spirit whispered in their hearts that it was true. But there were critical relatives and neighbors and even mobs to deride and inflame others against them. It took courage, that rare quality described as moral courage, to stand up and be counted, to be baptized and recognized as a Mormon.
The family traveled to Liverpool, where with some 900 others they boarded the sailing vessel Horizon.
As the wind caught the sails, they sang, “Farewell, My Native Land, Farewell.” After six weeks at sea—to cover the distance covered today by a jet plane in six hours—they landed at Boston and then traveled by steam train to Iowa City for fitting out.
There they purchased two yoke of oxen, one yoke of cows, a wagon, and a tent. They were assigned to travel with and assist one of the handcart companies.
Here in Iowa City also occurred their first tragedy. Their youngest child, less than two years of age, suffering from exposure, died and was buried in a grave never again visited by a member of the family.
Now let me give you the very words of this 13-year-old girl as I share a few lines from her story:
“We traveled from 15 to 25 miles [25 to 40 km] a day … until we got to the Platte River. … We caught up with the hand cart companies that day. We watched them cross the river. There were great lumps of ice floating down the river. It was bitter cold. … We went back to the camp and went to prayers, [and] … sang ‘Come, Come, Ye Saints No Toil Nor Labor Fear.’ I wondered what made my mother cry [that night]. … The next morning my little sister was born. It was the 23rd of September. We named her Edith. She lived six weeks and died. … [She] was buried at the last crossing of [the] Sweetwater.
“[We ran into heavy snow. I became lost in the snow.] My feet and legs were frozen. [The men] rubbed me with snow. They put my feet in a bucket of water. The pain was terrible. …
“When we arrived at Devils Gate it was bitter cold. We left lots of our things there. … My brother James … was as well as he ever was when he went to bed [that night]. In the morning he was dead. …
“My feet were frozen[;] also my brother Edwin and my sister Caroline had their feet frozen. It was nothing but snow [snow everywhere and the bitter Wyoming wind]. We could not drive the pegs in our tents. … We did not know what would become of us. [Then] one night a man came to our camp and told us … Brigham Young had sent men and teams to help us. … We sang songs, some danced and some cried. …
“My mother had never got well. … She died between the little and big mountains. … She was 43 years old. …
“We arrived in Salt Lake City nine o’clock at night the 11th of December 1856. Three out of four that were living were frozen. My mother was dead in the wagon. …
“Early next morning … Brigham Young … came. … When he saw our condition, our feet frozen and our mother dead, tears rolled down his cheeks. …
“The doctor amputated my toes … [while] the sisters were dressing my mother for her grave. … When my feet were fixed they [carried] … us in to see our mother for the last time. Oh how did we stand it. That afternoon she was buried. …
“[I have thought often of my mother’s words before we left England.] ‘Polly, I want to go to Zion while my children are small, so they can be raised in the Gospel of Christ for I know this is the true church.’”

I would like to fast-forward a number of years now to a time when my wife and I were awaiting the arrival of our first child. I'll never forget that first ultrasound appointment. Like any soon-to-be father, I was excited and anxious all at the same time. I wanted to know that all was well. Here is a picture of one of those ultrasounds.
To my untrained eye, I could not tell which end was up. For me, the question of that day was, "Doctor, where's the heart?"
The nurse kindly pointed out to me which little blip was the heart. "See, there's the heart," she exclaimed. I wasn't sure I did. She moved it again. "Can you see it now?" And then, to all of our surprise, she said, "Oh my, there are two hearts in there. You are having twins."
We gasped. My wife cried. I don't know if they were tears of joy or fear. Maybe a bit of both.

Allow me to share the experience of a faithful member of the Church who occupies a prominent position among the world’s microneurosurgeons. This is a position he has obtained, according to his own testimony, with the help of the Lord and through obedience to the Word of Wisdom. He joined the Church at an early age and promised himself to faithfully live the commandments. As the years went by, he had the opportunity of fulfilling two of his great goals—the opportunity to pursue a university education and to marry the woman of his dreams.
During this period of time something happened that totally changed the course of his life. One of his daughters became seriously ill with a brain disease which ultimately took her life. None of the efforts made in her behalf were sufficient to save her. During this frustrating and painful experience, which happened while he was a medical student at the university, he set a new and challenging goal, that of becoming a neurosurgeon. The fact that his daughter had suffered and died through a brain disease awakened in him the desire to study microneurosurgery, schooling that would be long and difficult.
Microneurosurgery requires, among other things, a great deal of physical discipline and dexterity. At this point in his life, while he was pursuing his studies, he discovered the blessings that come through obedience to the Word of Wisdom. He asked the Lord in humility and love that the promises contained in section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants would be made manifest in him so he could bless the lives of those who would depend on his skill.
During those difficult learning years, he worked untiringly to become the best in his area of specialization. As the years went by, he gained great dexterity in his hands and mastered the art and the skill necessary to work on the human brain. As we can imagine, any physical slip or unsteadiness in his hands could cause damage to his patients, perhaps injuring them for life.
As he studied section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants, he obtained a strong testimony that when we refrain from taking into our bodies substances that are harmful to it, we are blessed with intelligence and a healthy and strong body. As a doctor, he knew that these promises were there, within his reach, and he had earnestly sought them in his own behalf.
As the time arrived for his proficiency exam, the final exam in his chosen career, he prepared himself with great care in order to perform to his very best and to demonstrate to the examining doctors the skills he had acquired. The day prior to the examination, he noticed some heavy trembling in his normally skillful hands, and in humility he prayed to the Lord, asking Him to make his hands firm and sure as they had always been to this point. The following day, he discovered with great alarm that there were unsure movements in his hands. He went off to a solitary spot, and, in deep meditation, he mentally searched for any sin he may have committed that would cause him to experience this problem. But in his search, he found nothing that might be contrary to the Word of Wisdom. Then he thought, “I need these promises to come to me now,” and he prayed to our Father in Heaven with all his heart that His guidance and protection would be with him.
The time came to perform brain surgery on his patient, and when the doctor saw his hands through the microscope, he noted with great emotion that his prayer had been heard and that his hands were steadier than they had ever been.
He felt a great surge of gratitude, and his sure and skillful hands flew in their activity, healing the damaged brain of his patient. The blessings and the promises of the Word of Wisdom were with him, and he was able to carry out this difficult surgery in an hour less than the normal expectation. It was a complete success, and he humbly accepted congratulations from the examining physicians. With gratitude in his heart for the success he had achieved, he returned to his home, and there, with his family, he reviewed the promises of the Lord that “all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;
“And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
“And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint” (D&C 89:18–20).
Today as he visits some of the famous clinics and hospitals, and his colleagues have the opportunity of listening to him, he expresses to them and to members of the press: “First, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and then I am a microneurosurgeon.” Not all prominent men achieve the humility to be able to recognize the blessings of the Lord in their lives, which are the result of obedience to the commandments, as this good member of the Church has done.

Years ago, while a … schoolboy in far-off England, I made acquaintance with an aged sage who placed implicit trust in the … stars … He devoted himself with great energy to instruct me in the mysteries of astrology. I drank at this fountain of error with increasing thirst, and trusted his words with all the power of a child’s simple faith … Before I was ten years old, I had learned to cast the horoscope …
“Among my schoolmates was a big blustering fellow, who ruled … the playground by his great strength. We all acknowledged his supremacy, and paid him tribute of our property … Further, he compelled us to do his arithmetic for him, to draw his maps, and write his essays … If any boy appeared to doubt his authority … a severe beating was applied to bring the rebel to a sense of his duty.
“Worse than this, our oppressor … was the son of a wealthy family, and the teacher favored him …
I consulted the stars, and determined to break the chains that bound us and to set myself and my schoolfellows free … I managed to find from the bully’s sister the date and exact hour of Ben’s birth. With this information I hurried home, and at once proceeded to compute his horoscope. Ah! I might have known it: … He was a son of Saturn, born when the planet was in ill conjunction: it was no wonder then that he was untrustworthy, mean, and cruel. Then I cast the horoscope of the future, and found that at a convenient hour, five o’clock in the afternoon Wednesday, his star would be declining, and mine would be ascending … Surely the day of our deliverance was near at hand: the stars had promised to help me in my dangerous enterprise, and victory was assured. Force should be subdued by the power of superior knowledge.
“So on the morning of the appointed day I confronted the big bully on the playground, and challenged him to meet me that evening at five o’clock, boldly expressing my determination to show him who would be master from that time forth … He laughed loudly and cuffed my ears; but this I bore … for the time of revenge had not yet come … During the day I received many a hearty wish for success …
“At five o’clock we were at the appointed place; a score of boys were there to see that everything was fair. My antagonist was nearly 30 centimeters taller, and fully a stone (14 pounds) heavier than I, but these were trifles I ignored; had I not the happy assurance of the stars that I should win? I made a speech to the burly fellow, telling a few of his many acts of oppression and cruelty, and closed with a … flourish, declaring that henceforth we would be free. This was received with a laugh of derision by my opponent, and the hostilities began.
“The conflict, though fierce, was … brief. I gradually recovered consciousness, and found myself lying on the ground, cheek cut, eyes bruised, nose smashed, a couple of teeth loosened, and a quantity of hair gone. The bully left without a scratch.
“As I slowly walked homeward, I was in an unusually thoughtful state. I began for the first time in my life to have serious doubts about astrology. Amongst my family my appearance created considerable consternation; then my father reminded me of his oft repeated injunctions against fighting; and to impress the lesson firmly upon my mind, he proceeded to illustrate his lecture by hitting me several times with the buckle end of a stout strap.
“This was convincing. My doubts vanished, and with them all my confidence in the horoscope. I knew that astrology was a fraud.”
(James E. Talmage, extracted from an article entitled, “My Study of Astrology,” which appeared in The Contributor in 1893.)

Hold an “iron-in” to raise money for a missionary? That’s what the young people of the Blacktown Ward, Sydney Australia Parramatta Stake, did for 74 hours to raise money for a ward member who was called to the France Toulouse Mission. They worked through the night to get their work done (and enjoyed several stacks of steaming pancakes that were donated to the cause), raising over $200. Additional happy results of the activity were the smiling mothers of the stake holding their empty ironing baskets.

My wife, Mary, and I have someone we love dearly who has struggled for much of her life with certain aspects of the Church. She loves the gospel, and she loves the Church but still has questions. She is sealed in the temple, is active in the Church, fulfills her callings, and is a wonderful mother and wife. Through the years she has tried to do those things that she knew to be right and refrain from doing those things that she knew to be wrong. She has kept her covenants and continued to search. At times she has been grateful to hold on to the faith of others.
Not long ago her bishop asked to see her and her husband. He asked them to accept a temple assignment to act as proxies for those who needed temple ordinances. This calling surprised them, but they accepted and began their service in the house of the Lord. Their teenage son had recently participated in family history research and found a family name for whom temple ordinances had not been completed. In time they acted as proxies and did the temple ordinances for this person and his family. As they knelt at the altar and the sealing ordinance was performed, this wonderful, patient woman who has searched for so long had a private spiritual experience by which she came to know that the temple and the ordinances performed therein are true and real. She called her mother and told her of her experience and said that while she still has some questions, she knows that the temple is true, that temple ordinances are true, and that the Church is true. Her mother wept with gratitude for a loving, patient Heavenly Father and for a daughter who patiently continues to search.

Twenty-eight years ago today, to my total surprise, my professional life took a completely different direction. I had spent twenty-one years in the commercial aviation industry, and I enjoyed it. We had just moved into a new home in Chicago when a call came from Church headquarters inviting me to come to Salt Lake City for an interview with President David O. McKay. All my prior plans were discarded as I was called to be a Counselor to the new Presiding Bishop, John H. Vandenberg. I had never thought nor aspired to become a General Authority, but there was only one answer possible when President McKay, a prophet of God, called me to this work.

One day while studying for my seminary class, I had a beautiful and distinct impression. As I was reading over the lesson for the next day, I saw the face of a friend from school and had the strong feeling that I should share my testimony with her.
Despite the clarity of this impression, I was afraid. I was worried that my friend might reject me, particularly because she didn’t seem to be the kind of girl who would be interested in joining the Church.
I thought back to a talk by Sister Mary N. Cook of the Young Women general presidency in which she challenged us to work hard and be valiant.1 I wanted to be like this, so I wrote this girl a letter and testified of the truthfulness of the Church and of my love for the Book of Mormon. The next day I slipped a copy of the Book of Mormon, together with my letter, into her bag.
To my surprise, my friend was very receptive to the gospel. Starting that day, she would tell me about what she had learned in her study of the Book of Mormon. A few weeks later, I introduced her to the missionaries. Almost immediately, she received a confirmation from the Holy Ghost that what she was learning was true. The missionaries and I cried as she told us of her feelings. My friend was soon baptized, and her parents were amazed to see the changes that had occurred in her.
I am so happy I was able to overcome my fears and help bring the gospel into her life.

Brother Yáñez believes that the Lord answered his prayer and allowed him to be Paola’s donor in order to change his heart. “If they had operated on my wife instead of me, I believe I would have gone on living the same life,” he says. It was not a life he is proud of—drinking, smoking, and gambling. He overcame his addictions, he says, because of the answers he received to his prayers. But it was very difficult; he acknowledges that only God could have helped him change.

A later incident in Church history illustrates the power of this principle. Parley P. Pratt writes of an occasion when Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon addressed a large congregation:
“A very large church was opened for [Joseph] to preach in, and about three thousand people assembled to hear him. Brother Rigdon spoke first, and dwelt on the Gospel, illustrating his doctrine by the Bible. When he was through, brother Joseph arose like a lion about to roar; and being full of the Holy Ghost, spoke in great power, bearing testimony of the visions he had seen, the ministering of angels which he had enjoyed; and how he had found the plates of the Book of Mormon, and translated them by the gift and power of God. He commenced by saying: ‘If nobody else had the courage to testify of so glorious a message from Heaven, and of the finding of so glorious a record, he felt to do it in justice to the people, and leave the event with God’” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1938, pages 298–99)
This was no time to declare a message that any other minister from any other church might deliver. Joseph’s was an independent revelation, and his witness an independent witness. The result of Joseph Smith’s sermon in Philadelphia? “The entire congregation were astounded; electrified, as it were, and overwhelmed with the sense of the truth and power by which he spoke, and the wonders which he related. … Multitudes were baptized in Philadelphia and in the regions around” (Ibid., page 299).

Another entry was Friday, March 2, 1900, “Little Loi Roberts was given up to die by Dr. Stuttaford at the sanatorium [in Apia]. The patient little sufferer was administered to daily, and each time he would get relief. … His parents [Elder and Sister E. T. Roberts] were untiring in their efforts to allay pain and sufferings.”
Saturday, March 3, “Little Loi died at the sanatorium in Apia in the morning, making another sad day in the history of the mission.” Small wonder that the tombstone contained the words, “Rest sweet Loi, rest.” He was one and a half years old.

Carrie Laub, in Hebron, remembered when she and her mother went out to the watermelon patch and enjoyed a watermelon. Her father ate with them and then went to work, but her mother stayed with her and continued eating. In a few minutes her father came back and said, “You still eating?” and the mother replied, “I am going to eat enough so in the winter when they are all gone, I won’t wish I had eaten some more when I had a chance.”

Let me tell you a story that does not have such a great ending. When I was in high school, I became acquainted with a boy a year ahead of me in school. His brother and my brother were good friends and his brother was at our house all the time. I would see this person on occasion, maybe on the school bus which I rarely rode, or sometimes walking home from school. I was not always comfortable around him, although I never felt unsafe around him. It was easy to carry on a conversation with him because I was never worried about what he thought of me. You see, he was seen as being different, and he was constantly picked on wherever he went. I was not really aware of this when we talked, but always a little bit aware of it when other people were around.

One day, we were talking in the hallway at school and about three other guys came running through the hallway and they were calling him names. I remember being shocked, and not knowing what to do, I froze and I did not say anything. Even though I suspected that he was bullied, I had not really seen it first-hand. My friend looked at me, and although I don’t remember his exact words, he accused me of not standing up for him, and then walked off. I tried to apologize to him, but I already knew I had failed him. I didn’t know how to make amends because I couldn’t go back and undo that moment. At that time, I didn’t have the courage to stand up for him. The boys were a little scary to me. They were athletes and certainly more popular than I was, and I thought they might hurt or tease me, and I didn’t always have a lot of confidence in myself just like many other sixteen year olds. I was never mean to him myself, but what I thought was courageous then was just the fact that I spoke to him once in a while. I don’t know if he considered me a friend then or not, but he certainly didn’t ever seem to have any other friends while I knew him.

Looking back now, I realize that I was just popular enough, and at that age, even pretty enough that if I had spoken up, I could have shamed those guys into changing their behavior, at least at that moment. It was also very possible they would have bullied me as well, but for my friend it could have been a lifeline to know someone would stand up for him. I realized from this experience that this probably happened to him all the time.

Now it doesn’t help to dwell on a story like this unless we learn from it. I learned a lot from it; it’s hard to realize I can’t go back and change what happened, but I can change the way I act in the future. The attribute that I needed than and didn’t have enough of, was courage.

Courage to stand up for someone else. Courage to do the right thing. Courage to face up to someone even when we are afraid.

While serving as full-time missionaries in Chile, my companions and I had several opportunities to give priesthood blessings. On one occasion, after pronouncing a blessing on a single mother suffering from cancer, we expressed our appreciation for the opportunity of blessing her. Her response surprised us. She exclaimed, “Elders, you are the real blessing.” She continued, “Having worthy priesthood men in my home is the greatest blessing of all.”
As we thought about her comments, we recognized that God really does bless His children through righteous priesthood holders. If we hadn’t been there, ready to fulfill our priesthood duty, she could not have received the blessing we provided. We learned that fulfilling our duty to God meant living worthy to bless and serve others.

The missionaries taught me for over a year. I attended church and continued to interact with the members. We played games together and talked about many things. I was encouraged to follow the Savior and be baptized, but I was worried.
My parents were devoted Buddhists and did not approve of my learning about the Church. Wanting to meet my family’s expectations, I told the missionaries that I couldn’t be baptized. But the truths of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had been prompting me to go down a different path from the one most people around me pursued. I had to decide for myself which path to take.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt that I should pray. I knelt by my bed and prayed out loud for the first time in my life. Before I even finished, the Holy Ghost had made it clear to me that I had found the truth. But what would my parents think?
When my parents realized my desire to be baptized, they surprised me by agreeing to have the missionaries come for a visit. When they arrived at our home, my parents had a good feeling. After talking for a while, the missionaries invited us to sing a hymn, “Love at Home” (Hymns, no. 294). As we sang together, my mother had tears in her eyes. Everyone was touched.
This experience softened my parents’ hearts, and a year and eight months after I first met the missionaries, I was baptized. I later served a mission in Utah and have had many wonderful opportunities in the Church.
Have you ever stopped and thought about how the gospel of Jesus Christ has blessed your life? In doing so, you will be filled with love for God and come to better understand that He loves you so much that He sent His Only Begotten and precious Son, Jesus Christ, to the world to strengthen and uplift you as you come unto Him.
When you feel this love, I hope that you will respond by opening your heart to your loved ones and others and sharing what you know to be true. My life has been blessed because of friends who reached out to me and shared their love of the Savior and His gospel with me. I’ve also been blessed as I’ve continued to strengthen my testimony through prayer, studying the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, and choosing to be His disciple. You can do the same!
As you strive to remember the promises you made when you were baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, God has promised you that the Holy Ghost will “show unto you all things what ye should do” (2 Nephi 32:5). Please have faith in His promise. You can be guided in the right direction in all you do and say. You can reach out in friendship and invite others to hear your testimony. I know that this can make you happier than just about anything else ever could.

Lenae Crandall and her family didn’t realize how much the temple blessed their lives until their mom died.
“You don’t really think about being sealed until someone you love is gone,” says Lenae, 17. “But it’s okay my mom died, because we’ll be together again, thanks to the temple.”
Now Lenae, Brandallyn, Bethany, and Seth go to the Jordan River Utah Temple with their father almost every Friday—just like their mother did.
“After my mom died, we started doing baptisms for the dead,” says Lenae. “It’s nice. My mom taught us by example how going to the temple can bless your life.”

While serving on my first mission, my companion and I were privileged to teach the wonderful family of Tony and Norma Johnson. This family lived in Ellesmere Port, England. One of the missionary discussions suggested that a truly repentant person would want to confess all of his wrongdoings to the Lord in prayer. The discussion suggested that a large blanket confession was inadequate because an individual should confess all sins in some detail.

Three days later, we again visited with the Johnson family. Brother Johnson, then Mr. Johnson, looked terrible. When we asked him what was wrong, he informed us that he had not slept for three nights. He indicated that he would finish one prayer, get into bed, and then remember some other event or thought that he felt should be part of his confession prayer. He then would get out of bed and ask forgiveness for another wrongdoing.

I left our meeting that evening knowing I had never spent three nights on my knees asking for forgiveness. I had never come to that level of prayer when asking for forgiveness. It was required even of the Prophet Joseph: “Let no one, therefore, set on my servant Joseph; for I will justify him; for he shall do the sacrifice which I require at his hands for his transgressions, saith the Lord your God” (D&C 132:60).