Gospel Story Finder

Following Thanksgiving time some years ago, I received a letter from a widow whom I had known in the stake where I served in the presidency. She had just returned from a dinner sponsored by her bishopric. Her words reflect the peace she felt and the gratitude which filled her heart:

“Dear President Monson,

“I am living in Bountiful now. I miss the people of our old stake, but let me tell you of a wonderful experience I have had. In early November all the widows and older people received an invitation to come to a lovely dinner. We were told not to worry about transportation since this would be provided by the older youth in the ward.

“At the appointed hour, a very nice young man rang the bell and took me and another sister to the stake center. He stopped the car, and two other young men walked with us to the chapel where the young ladies took us to where we removed our wraps—then into the cultural hall, where we sat and visited for a few minutes. Then they took us to the tables, where we were seated on each side by either a young woman or a young man. Then we were served a lovely Thanksgiving dinner and afterward provided a choice program.

“After the program we were given our dessert—either apple or pumpkin pie. Then we left, and on the way out we were given a plastic bag with sliced turkey and two rolls. Then the young men took us home. It was such a nice, lovely evening. Most of us shed a tear or two for the love and respect we were shown.

“President Monson, when you see young people treat others like these young people did, I feel the Church is in good hands.”

Having lived legally on the East Coast of the United States for a few years, I was acquainted with some of the cities, and they were mostly small.
When I read or heard about the events leading up to the First Vision, crowds of people were mentioned, which did not make sense to me.
Questions began to arise in my mind. Why did the Church have to be restored in the United States and not in Brazil or Italy, the land of my ancestors?
Where were those crowds of people who were involved in the revivals and in the confusion of religions—all of which had happened in such a peaceful and calm place?
I asked a lot of people about it but got no answer. I read everything I could in Portuguese and then in English but found nothing that could calm my heart. I continued to search.
In October 1984, I attended general conference as a counselor in a stake presidency. After, I went to Palmyra, New York, eager to find the answer.
Arriving there, I tried to understand: Why did the Restoration have to be here, and why such a spiritual uproar? Where did all the people mentioned in Joseph’s account come from? Why there?
At that time, the most reasonable answer to me was because the U.S. Constitution guaranteed freedom.
That morning I visited the Grandin Building, where the first edition of the Book of Mormon was printed. I went to the Sacred Grove, where I prayed a lot.
There was hardly anyone on the streets in that small town of Palmyra. Where were the crowds of people that Joseph had mentioned?
That afternoon I decided to go to the Peter Whitmer farm, and when I got there, I found a man at the window of a cabin. He had an intense glow in his eyes. I greeted him and then began to ask those same questions.
He then asked me, “Do you have time?” I said yes.
He explained that Lakes Erie and Ontario and, farther east, the Hudson River are located in that region.
In the early 1800s they decided to build a canal for navigation which would pass through that region, stretching more than 300 miles (480 km) to reach the Hudson River. It was a great enterprise for that time, and they could rely only on human labor and animal power.
Palmyra was a center for some of that construction. Builders needed skilled people, technicians, families, and their friends. Many people began to pour in from the neighboring towns and places farther away, such as Ireland, to work on the canal.
That was such a sacred and spiritual moment because I had finally found the crowd. They brought their customs and their beliefs. When the man mentioned their beliefs, my mind was enlightened and my spiritual eyes were opened by God.
At that moment, I understood how the hand of God our Father, in His immense wisdom, had prepared in His plan a place to bring the young Joseph Smith, putting him in the midst of that religious confusion, because there, in the Hill Cumorah, the precious plates of the Book of Mormon were hidden.
This was the stage of the Restoration, where the Father’s voice would be heard after nearly two millennia in a wonderful vision, talking to the boy Joseph Smith, when he went to the Sacred Grove to pray and heard: “This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!”
There he saw two personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description. Yes, God revealed Himself to man again. The darkness that covered the earth began to dissipate.
The prophecies regarding the Restoration began to be fulfilled: “And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people.”
In a few short years, Joseph was led to the records of prophecies, covenants, and ordinances left by ancient prophets, our beloved Book of Mormon.
The Church of Jesus Christ could not be restored without the eternal gospel revealed in the Book of Mormon as another testament of Jesus Christ, even the Son of God, the Lamb of God, who took away the sins of the world.
Christ said to His people in Jerusalem:
“And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold.”
“I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine.”
When leaving the Whitmer farm, I do not remember saying good-bye. I just remember tears running freely down my face. The sun was setting in a beautiful sky.
In my heart an immense joy and peace calmed my soul. I was filled with gratitude.
I now clearly understood why. Once again the Lord had given me knowledge and light.
During my trip home, scriptures continued to flow into my mind: the promises made to Father Abraham that in his seed all families of the earth would be blessed.
And for this, temples would be erected so that the divine power might be conferred upon man once again on the earth so that families could be united, not until death do us part but together for all eternity.
“And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.”

I would like to share with you a very personal family story that happened almost 21 years ago. The day after Christmas in 1977, a little redheaded girl was born to our family. Although she came a few weeks early, she appeared to be healthy and happy, and we all loved her very much. When she was about two months old, she became quite ill and spent a few days at Primary Children’s Hospital in the semi-intensive care unit. After some treatments and special medications, she improved enough for us to take her back home. But she never totally recovered. In fact, her condition worsened until we took her back to the hospital again a month and half later. This time she did not respond to the treatments, and a diagnosis of the problem was not readily evident. As her lungs began to fail, she was transferred to the intensive care unit, where, on a respirator, she gradually moved to 100% oxygen.

We were told this was an essential treatment for her at the time, but high doses of oxygen for an infant could in the long run result in blindness. Also, lack of adequate oxygen to the brain could cause some long-term brain damage. Because of the numerous blood tests required, a shunt was put into her tiny arm to facilitate the process. Again we were warned of potential problems. In fact, the very day the shunt was inserted, a nine-month-old baby in the same unit had his arm amputated because of a severe infection associated with the shunt he had received.

At first the doctors were optimistic, stating that there were many possible reasons for her condition and, as soon as they could identify the cause, appropriate treatment could be administered. Test results gave no useful information, and nothing seemed to help this little life that was slipping away from us. On a Saturday evening the doctors told us Holly had stabilized, and they suggested we go home and get some rest. If there was a problem, they would call us immediately. The dreaded call came during the very early hours the following morning. We were told that both of Holly’s lungs had collapsed and that doctors would try to keep her alive until we arrived so that we could be with her as she died. We threw on our clothes and jumped in the car. On the way to the hospital I thought to myself, “This is one of those times when people bargain with the Lord for something they dearly want.” But, try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything I could offer that was a worthy trade for the life of my little daughter. So instead I prayed with all the energy I had that the Lord would help me handle whatever was to come.

Forever etched on my mind will be the scene inside the intensive care unit when we arrived of doctors holding the limp little girl in their arms, hand-pumping the oxygen that was keeping her alive. We asked if we could give her a blessing before taking her off the oxygen. Literally as soon as the amen was said, a lobe in one of her lungs spontaneously inflated. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. She had been given a little more time.

Unfortunately we still didn’t know what was wrong with her. Our pediatrician, Stanley Child, was relentless as he began searching the medical journals until he read of a very rare condition that could be causing the problems. In order to make a definitive diagnosis, an angiogram was required—a very risky procedure for a child so young and so critically ill. There was a big chance that the angiogram could cause a stroke or, worse, death. Without a diagnosis, however, it was essentially guaranteed that she would die. After much discussion the cardiologist moved ahead with the procedure. The doctors did, in fact, discover the problem, and open-heart surgery was scheduled immediately. This was a dangerous operation under the best of circumstances, especially 21 years ago, and Holly was given very low odds of surviving.

Here is where I would like to make an important point. I tend to be an emotional person, and I can cry with little prompting. To face the probable death of my child would seem to be almost unbearable. And yet, as I sat in the waiting room of Primary Children’s Hospital after the operation began, I felt calm and peaceful. In fact, I was the one who was offering reassuring words to the others who had come to be with us as we waited. At times I could feel the presence and strength and warmth of others behind me; but when I turned around, no one was there. Almost suddenly I understood. The Lord was answering my prayer to be able to handle whatever was to come. I was experiencing the gift of the Holy Ghost as a comforter.

In the operating room an incision was made from Holly’s sternum around the left side of her chest to her backbone. The surgeon needed to reach into her tiny body with his adult male hands and reroute an artery that was only the size of a pencil lead. After a time we received word that all had gone well. The next challenge was to take Holly off the heart/lung machine so that her heart could begin beating on its own once again. With great relief for all involved, she successfully made that transition. After several weeks she was strong enough to be taken home. Her little body had been paralyzed, she had no voice because of trauma to her vocal chords, and she weighed less than what she had at birth. The next months were challenging, but little by little she regained full strength.

In less than one month, on December 26, Holly will be 21 years old. She loves to play the piano with two hands, she sings with a lovely soprano voice, she has 20/20 vision, and she is an honor student. In high school her heart and lungs were strong enough for her to run track. There are not many around who are more energetic, fun loving, or who seem to enjoy more from life.

I often reflect back to that time and to doctors who listened and were guided to know how to best help our child. I think of friends and family who gave more to us during that difficult time than I could have imagined possible. And I can never deny the hand of a loving Heavenly Father who heard my prayer and gave me the strength I needed to handle the situation, both while Holly was in the hospital and during the time that followed. Obviously, I have shared with you an experience that turned out exactly the way I wanted.

I was about to go to my room when Reggie drove up, waved, and parked his car. He was young and wiry and came up the steps two at a time. He told me of his small business, his young children, and lack of work, and finally that he simply could not see how he could pledge fifty pounds.

I gripped his shoulder. “Let me suggest that you discuss this with your family and with the Lord. You are not wanting to build this church for me, but for the Lord. Perhaps He has a way in mind for you. But most of all, don’t be depressed. No one expects you to do more than you are capable of doing.”

Reggie was in a hurry, and there was obviously nothing more that I could say. I knew that unless these leaders made their own commitments, their people could not be expected to respond. I did not have much time to think about Reggie; before my visitor was out of sight, a young hotel employee called me to the phone.

This time there was a definite air of excitement among them that had not been there before. I began to speculate, gave up, and asked Reggie to give his report.

“I didn’t see how I could possibly get the fifty pounds, but my wife and I decided to make the pledge anyhow and hope we could find a way to get it. After pledging the fifty pounds, I contacted a nursery to see what I could do. I got a contract to bring in wild flower seeds—we have the most beautiful flowers in the world here in western Australia. I was lucky; the nursery had just received a request for these seeds from a U.S. company. My family and I have given our Saturdays and every possible hour after work to gathering them. We have not only earned our pledge money, but we’ve also received some side benefits from the work. The children enjoyed the family outings as well as the opportunity to earn extra money. We have started some projects of our own at home that we could never afford before.” He looked at each of us and smiled, “It sure has been a great benefit for us!”

“I forever am amazed by nature and its beauty,” says Marlies Hammerl, Laurel class president from the Salt Ash Branch, Newcastle Australia Stake. “One aspect of nature I especially enjoy is the night sky and the glorious stars.” Marlies will now get to study those glorious stars more in depth after being awarded one of only 12 Stellar Astronomy Scholarships offered to young women in New South Wales, Australia.
“It is easy to be grateful for all the blessings I have and realize that I, like the stars, need to let my light shine even though my two sisters and I are the only members at my school.” Marlies travelled to Sydney last April, where she was awarded her scholarship by the Governor General of Australia.
Marlies adds, “I am just so grateful that I have taken heed of our prophets’ counsel, to gain the best education that we can. It’s definitely important to strive in all you do.” In other words, we should reach for the stars.

I remember one time Elder Charles A. Callis in a Council of the Twelve meeting. There was a rather spirited discussion on some questions. One of the Brethren said, “You had better listen to Brother George Albert Smith, the President of the Twelve, because he may be the next President of the Church.”
Brother Callis smiled and said, “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. Three times in my life I have chosen the next President of the Church, and all three of them died before they came to the presidency.” The Lord only knows, and for us to speculate or to presume is not pleasing in the sight of the Lord.

When I was the mission president in the Bolivia Santa Cruz Mission, one of the missionaries serving with me, Elder Hinostroza, was happily serving in a town near the Brazilian border and wanted to finish serving his mission there. When it came time to make missionary transfers, I felt the impression to change Elder Hinostroza’s assignment and sent him to Santa Cruz. He said, “President, why change me when I have only six weeks left on my mission?”
I said, “I think it’s the right thing to do.”
He looked at me and said, “I’m not so sure.” But he was a good missionary and went to work.
Shortly after he began serving in his new assignment, he went to teach a family. He finished teaching the lesson, and the lady took out a picture from her wallet and showed it to Elder Hinostroza. She said, “The reason I’m here in Santa Cruz is because I’m looking for my daughter, whom I have not seen in 10 years. Somebody told me that she might be here.”
More than a million people live in Santa Cruz. The chances of a mother finding her daughter in a city of that size were very slim. Elder Hinostroza looked at the picture, then looked at the mother. He said, “I know your daughter. When I served one year ago in another ward, your daughter was there. She’s a member of the Church.” That night Elder Hinostroza took this mother to find her daughter who had been lost.
Heavenly Father cared so much about one mother and one daughter that He found a way to bring them together again. After that evening Elder Hinostroza called me and said, “I now know the care Father in Heaven has for His children, and I know why I was transferred. That knowledge has changed my life.”

At the time he joined the Church, Luis Soto lived at the same boardinghouse as Richard Spichiger, a student of auto mechanics who was a descendant of Swiss immigrants. Richard was very impressed by his neighbor’s manner and conduct. His favorable opinion opened the way for the full-time missionaries—who also lived in the boardinghouse—to teach him the discussions. After Richard was baptized, he accepted a call to the Chile Osorno Mission, where he, in turn, baptized dozens of people.

Two years later, Heather died because of the ravages of the disease. Her younger brother, Mark, also suffers from the disease but not to the extent of his older sisters. He can talk, although it is not easy. As the parents discussed Heather’s passing and the funeral that would take place, Mark exclaimed, “No go Heather’s funeral!” Heather was his best friend. As the parents tried to explain death to him, he would not be consoled. He was crushed and did not want to attend the service. For two days he could not be persuaded.

On the morning of the funeral, the father went to Mark’s room to get him up. As he entered the room, Mark was sitting up in bed with a big smile on his face. His first words were: “Dad, go Heather’s funeral!”

The father responded: “Mark, what has changed your mind?”

“Dad, had dream.”

“What did you dream about, Mark?”

“Dad, dreamed about Heather.”

“Mark, what was Heather doing?”

“Oh, Dad, Heather running and jumping and singing ‘There is sunshine in my soul today.’ Dad, go Heather’s funeral.” (Mark’s part of the story was obtained through conversations with the parents and also from the book written by the family: Bruce and Joyce Erickson, When Life Doesn’t Seem Fair [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1995]; see pp. 65–66.)

After being introduced to a few basic doctrines of the Church, the Reverend Charles Taylor, a minister friend of mine, called to tell me of his enlightened understanding of the gospel. With some excitement he stated: “When you take the time to study the teachings and the doctrines of the Mormon Church, it becomes clear that Mormons are truly Christians. In fact, I have never met more Christlike people than the Mormons I have recently become acquainted with.”
I responded that I would be interested in hearing his further feelings and understanding after he had had a chance to read the Book of Mormon and could witness its testimony and teachings of the Savior. His response: “I am already reading the Book of Mormon, and it is wonderful to read. It has expanded my understanding of Christ and His mission. I feel a wonderful spirit as I read it.”
My friend took the time to learn for himself before forming a judgment. He did not try to influence others based on lack of understanding or misconception. This seemed responsible to me—seeking understanding before judging, and certainly before trying to persuade another to one’s own misconceptions.

Sabrina and Mom flipped through the pages of Sabrina’s baptism book. Sabrina had just turned eight, and her baptism was two weeks away. She was excited—and a little nervous—to be baptized.
“Look at how much we’ve done already!” Mom said. She flipped through the pages. The book was to help Sabrina get ready for baptism. They had filled out the pages about her favorite things and another page about her family. Then they came to a page with the words “My Testimony” at the top.
“I don’t want to fill that one out,” Sabrina said.
“OK,” Mom said, turning the page. “We can fill it out later.”
“I don’t think I want to fill it out at all,” Sabrina said.
“Why not?” Mom asked.
“Because I don’t know what a testimony is.” Sabrina felt her face turn red and hot.
Mom paused. “It means knowing Heavenly Father loves you.”
“But Heavenly Father hasn’t answered my prayers.” Sabrina’s eyes stung with tears. “I’ve been praying for a whole month to find my blanket, but I still can’t find it!”
Sabrina loved her blanket. It was soft and pink. Her grandmother had made it for her when she was born. She had slept with it every night before it got lost.
Mom wrapped her arms around Sabrina. “Sometimes Heavenly Father doesn’t answer our prayers right away. And sometimes His answer is no. But that doesn’t mean that He doesn’t hear our prayers or that He doesn’t love us.”
Sabrina sniffed. “I guess.”
On Sunday, Sabrina’s Primary teacher, Sister Lee, read a story from the Friend. It was about a boy who was upset because he heard bad words on the bus. He prayed about his problem. Then he had the thought that he could listen to his headphones on the bus. That thought was the answer to his prayer.
“Oh! Is that all?” Sabrina asked. “I thought answers to prayers were bigger than that! Like hearing a voice or seeing an angel.”
“Sometimes that’s true,” Sister Lee said. “But most of the time, the Holy Ghost answers our prayers in quiet ways. Like through an idea or a warm feeling.”
Sabrina looked at the picture of the boy on the bus. She thought about the light, happy feeling she had about getting baptized. Maybe that was the Holy Ghost telling her that it was a good choice.
Maybe she really did have a testimony.
Sabrina’s baptism day came. Her dad took her hand, and she stepped into the warm water. When she came out of the water, she felt happy. And when Dad laid his hands on her head to give her the gift of the Holy Ghost, she felt warm all over.
The next Sunday was fast Sunday. People got up to share their testimonies. Sabrina jumped out of her seat and walked up to the front of the chapel. She took a deep breath and smiled. She knew what she was going to say now. And she knew what she was going to write on that blank page in her baptism book later.
She hadn’t found her blanket yet, but she had found her testimony.

During the spring, my husband and I attended our four-year-old grandson’s soccer game. Excitement was in the air as children ran in every direction chasing the ball. When the final whistle blew, the players didn’t know who won or who lost. They had simply played the game.
The coaches asked the players to shake hands with the other team. Then we saw something quite remarkable. One coach called for a victory tunnel.
Parents, grandparents, and anybody who came to see the game stood up and formed two lines facing each other. Then they raised their arms and created an arch. The children squealed as they ran under the arms of the cheering adults and down the path.
Soon the children from the other team decided to join in the fun. All of the players were cheered on by the adults as they ran through the victory tunnel.
In my mind I could see another picture. I had the feeling I was seeing these children living the plan Heavenly Father created for every child. They were running on the strait and narrow path, under the arms of the people who loved them. Each child felt the joy of being on the path.
Jesus Christ has “marked the path and led the way” for each of us.* If we follow His lead, we will all return to our heavenly home and be safe in Heavenly Father’s arms.

In our family we have had a tradition of temple work. I think part of that comes from the delightful story that is told of my relative, Thomas G. Lowe, of Franklin, Idaho. Brother Lowe was asked to prepare the gold balls that now sit at the top of the Logan Temple. They were to be 36 inches in diameter. In order to prepare them, he nailed planks into a cube, and then using a chisel and hammer he whittled down the wood to the 36 inch diameter. On the ball that sits at the west end of the temple, he worked for many days until he got the ball to 38 inches. It was almost impossible to bring it down to the size specified. He called to Brother Angel, the architect, and asked if he must do the work according to the drawing. Brother Angel confirmed the fact that the ball must be 36 inches. When the architect was out of sight, Brother Lowe went to the top of the temple and placed the ball, even though it was two inches too large. The second ball that sits at the east end of the temple was whittled down to 36 inches. He then went to Brother Angel after some days and said, “I finally finished my job. How does it look now?” Brother Angel looked up to say, “It’s fine. It always pays to build like the architect says.”

While putting the second ball in place, Brother Lowe fell off the north side and it took 20 minutes to get a ladder to him. His fingers were stiff for awhile but there was no other problem associated with the near-fatal fall.

Z. Majigsuren lives in a small apartment in Darkhan, Mongolia, with her husband, two teenage daughters, and several members of her extended family: Her daughter and son-in-law and their young daughter also live there. So too does a son with his wife and their baby. Majigsuren’s son-in-law, A. Soronzonbold, is president of the Darkhan district. Her son, Kh. Sergelen, is first counselor in the presidency of the Darkhan Second Branch. And Majigsuren is first counselor in the branch Relief Society presidency.

Missionaries first came to Darkhan in 1996, and she was baptized and confirmed in 1997, one of the pioneer members in the city.

“I am very grateful that all of my children are members of the Church,” she says. Majigsuren remembers the fruit of the tree of life that Lehi saw in vision (see 1 Nephi 8). “I wanted to partake of that fruit and return to my Heavenly Father.” She wanted her children to partake also. She is grateful that two of them have now been sealed to their spouses in the Hong Kong China Temple: her daughter, K. Selenge, who is married to Soronzonbold, and Sergelen with his wife, T. Altantuya.

Members, she says, “need to come to church, they need to pray, and they need to keep the faith. The most important is faith,” because without that, they will not do the others.

While the pioneers were crossing the plains, a small six-year-old boy wandered away from his handcart company during a storm and was lost. When the storm subsided, Robert and Ann Parker realized their boy was missing and began searching. For two days, an organized search was unsuccessful. The decision was taken that the company must move on because of the approaching winter.
A pioneer journal records:
“Ann Parker pinned a bright [red] shawl about the thin shoulders of her husband and sent him back alone on the trail to search again for their child. If he found him dead he was to wrap him in the shawl; if alive, the shawl would be a flag to signal her. Ann and her children took up their load and struggled on with the company, while Robert retraced the miles of … trail, calling, and searching and praying for his helpless little son.”
One suspects that he did not just casually look behind a few trees or leisurely walk along the trail, but that he vigorously investigated every thicket, every clump of trees and gully or wash.
“At last he reached a … trading station where he learned that his child had been found and cared for by a woodsman and his wife. [The boy] had been ill from exposure and fright. [But] God had heard the prayers of his people.
“Out on the trail each night Ann and her children kept watch and, when, on the third night the rays of the setting sun caught the glimmer of a bright red shawl [above her husband’s head], the brave little mother sank in a pitiful heap in the sand. … [She] slept for the first time in six … days.”*

1 Whoa! I’ll get sent down to the minors if you keep pounding my famous fast ball.
2 Dad, Sister Simon told us that Jesus blessed people who couldn’t walk, and they stood up and walked. You gave me a blessing after my accident. How come I wasn’t healed?
I don’t know why, Sweetheart. Heavenly Father could raise up everyone out of every wheelchair, but he has chosen not to. What I do know is that he loves you and will do what’s best for you.
3 But being healed, would be best for me. What could be wrong with running and jumping and being free of this chair?
I don’t know. But tell me—haven’t you gained anything from being in that chair?
4 Well, I guess my arms are stronger.
And so is your spirit. You’ve become a very brave young lady, and I’ve watched you develop great love and kindness for other people with problems. Would you really want to give up everything you’ve learned?
5 I guess not, but I really want to walk again.
You will, Cathlyn. Because of the resurrection, you’ll have a perfect body again someday, and you’ll also get to keep everything you’ve learned from being in this chair. I know it’s a long time to wait, but Heavenly Father will help you.
6 And in the meantime, I can already hit your famous fast ball.
True, but I’ve been working on a mystery curve.
I like solving mysteries.

Michael DeLoach of Hollister, Florida, won top honors nationally in team roping. He and his partner, Andy Mills, placed first in their event at the National High School Rodeo Finals held in Rapid City, South Dakota. They also helped the Florida contingent to outscore the two-time defending champs from Texas. This was the first time that a high school rodeo team east of the Mississippi had claimed overall top honors.

May I comment briefly on one other point in President Hinckley’s talk: He encouraged the students in 1985 to save, protect, and preserve the facilities on this campus. I believe his counsel continues to be heeded by many of you students today. Let me relate a recent experience.

I was walking toward the Wilkinson Student Center last summer. A group of visitors had finished eating lunch, but not all of their garbage had been properly disposed of. A pile of trash was conspicuously in the patio area and needed to be removed. As I reached down to grab an armful of boxes, I noticed a BYU coed next to me picking up the rest of the boxes. She looked at me and said with a smile, “Some of our visitors don’t appreciate what it takes to keep this campus clean.” I think her mother and bishop would be pleased with the kind of student she had become. Her actions showed the gratitude and appreciation she had for the tithing funds allocated to BYU.

Grandmother also composed poems and hymns and was a great example of obedience to the law of tithing. She grew flowers and sold them at market, and from the proceeds kept the Lord’s portion in a little plastic purse. She was deeply spiritual and taught the gospel to all of her family. Once when my father resisted her, she told him that one day he would bear his testimony from the pulpit.

“That’s something you’ll never see,” he replied. But eventually both he and my mother, as well as we children, served full-time missions in different parts of the world, including El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Uruguay, and Spain.

In addition to temples, surely another holy place on earth ought to be our homes. The feelings of holiness in my home prepared me for feelings of holiness in the temple. Before I went on my first mission to Brazil, my mother lovingly hand made a piece of temple clothing for me to wear when I went to the temple. It is now old and frayed, but it is a special, sacred symbol of Mother’s love for that which is holy.