Gospel Story Finder

“Scouter Hunk,” said the country’s president, “I want to pin this medal on you in appreciation for your courage and leadership skills. Bravely you rescued 400 tourists when their boat swamped. Your Eagle Scout project has revitalized your town, along with the entire country. And single-handedly you reformed 200 delinquent children by getting them involved in Scouting.
“Dexter,” called out Scoutmaster Simmons at the Scout meeting. “When can you help us collect food for the homeless?”
Dexter looked up. “I dunno,” he replied.
“Brother Hunk,” the stake leader said, “the youth conference you planned and supervised was the most impressive activity I’ve seen. As the youth representative you single-handedly organized and carried off a wholesome activity that will be recorded in this stake’s history. Every house has been painted, disaster plans and emergency supplies are present in every household, wickedness is banished, corruption and litter are gone. And the youth say they’ve never had so much fun. You are magnificent!”
The youth surrounding the stake leader cheered the Hunk.
“Dexter! Dexter!”
The voice of his priesthood adviser, brother Magnuson, broke through.
“Dexter, will you help set up tables for the youth conference next month?” asked brother Magnuson.
Dexter looked up, realized he was at a ward youth meeting, and replied, “I dunno.”
There’s no glory in that, thought Dexter. I want to be chairman or nothing. Fat chance of being chairman so I’ll be nothing. He sat silent for the rest of the meeting.
Afterwards Julie hurried to catch him as he started to climb into the family car.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You’ve been so distracted and distant lately, like you’re in a different world. You always used to help out with youth conferences. What’s bothering you?”
“It’s nothing,” said Dexter. “It’s just that I’m tired of being ordinary—just average, with no honor or recognition. Look at us Julie. We’re the average kids. No one notices us. We are never head of anything, never applauded, just the average ones who are always there. If the school paper did an article about us do you know what it would say?”
Dexter picked up a school book, cleared his throat, and in a deep voice intoned, “Dexter and Julie are two average students at Riverview High. They have never been president of any organization. They did not win a scholarship. They haven’t won a race or a trophy. They have not won honors for any talent. They are average.”
“Now,” said Dexter, putting down the book. “Do you see what I mean?”
“But we try.”
“Name one thing you do really well Julie.”
“I like to paint.”
“Have you won any awards?”
“Well, no.”
“Don’t you see what I mean. You’re an average painter. So why paint?”
“Maybe I’m not a Michelangelo or even a Grandma Moses. But painting makes me so aware of the world. How many colors do you see in that tree?”
“One—it’s green. Trees are all the same. All green.”
“But I see maybe ten shades and colors—some darker with touches of brown, other parts lighter with splashes of yellow.”
“They’re still trees in an average painting. For me it’s going to be the top or nothing. I want to be a winner. I want recognition!”
His voice had gotten louder and classmates turned to stare.
“You’re getting recognition,” giggled Julie.
He lowered his voice. “I want to be the best, the greatest.”
“Well,” replied Julie, “it wasn’t some famous person that touched our family when we were investigating the Church. It was my three-year-old niece singing ‘I Am a Child of God.’ Sometimes the common can achieve the uncommon.”
“Not for me. I want to be the greatest. I want recognition. I want honors.”
Dexter climbed into the car and drove off.
Member Missionary Hunk was assigned to coordinate the open house for the public at the newly completed temple. He planned on being stationed in the celestial room, where he would quietly nod acknowledgments to community dignitaries. Afterwards there would be cookies and punch with guest speakers at the stake center to honor him. Honors to the Hunk.
“Dexter, you’ll be serving here. You’ll help put booties on the shoes of the visitors before they enter the temple for the tour,” the tour leader said.
Filled with disappointment, Dexter sat on the ground and assisted visitors with shoe coverings. No honor in this he thought. In fact it was uncomfortable and embarrassing. But there was something familiar about it. What was it?
He looked up at the temple spires and remembered the words carved on the side: “Holiness to the Lord.”
Holiness to the Lord. Again there was that nagging feeling of familiarity.
Suddenly, a scene came to his mind of a painting that hung at home. He who was greatest was washing the feet of the disciples.
Across the walkway of the temple two visitors were conversing.
“Say, who’s that kid with the glasses, the one who is putting on foot coverings. Is he someone special?”
“No, that’s just Dexter. He’s a nice, average kid.”
“But look at the way he’s treating visitors. It’s as though each person he helps is the most important person he’ll meet.”
On Saturday Dexter wrote a letter to his great-aunt requesting information on his grandfather’s birthplace. He gathered food, took it by an immigrant family’s home, and told them he’d be back the next day with two young men and a special book written in their own language. Later he wrapped up a clean Scout shirt and Scout handbook and quietly laid it on the doorstep of a widow’s home whose son hadn’t much money. He knocked and ran. The widow and son found the bag along with a note: From your friend.
Brother Magnuson was surprised that Saturday to get a call from Dexter. He volunteered to set up tables for the youth conference and offered to help with cleanup also.
Then Dexter called Julie and invited her to walk down to the park with him. She’d paint trees while he took photographs of the ducks.

Illustration by Laura Proietti
On Christmas Eve when I was 14, my extended family gathered at my grandma’s house to have a Christmas program and do a small gift exchange, just like we did every year. It was fun to be with my cousins and the rest of the family, but I couldn’t help but think about all the gifts that were waiting for me back at home. During all the festivities, I was anxious for Christmas Day to come—Christmas, after all, was about opening presents.
But before we could leave, we had one more tradition to take care of: “adopting” a family for Christmas. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, the adults found a family in the area that was in need of help, got gifts for the kids, and then someone in our family would go out and deliver everything to the family on Christmas Eve. I never participated much in this activity—sure, it seemed like a nice idea, but I never even knew the people we were delivering to.
After the festivities ended, we gathered the gifts and put them in my dad’s pickup. My dad even put on a Santa suit before leaving. There were a lot of gifts to take, so I got nominated to go with him. I was given an elf hat and became Santa’s not-so-eager helper.
But my attitude started to change on the drive over as my dad told me about the family. Their situation was heart-wrenching. Just a few weeks before, the dad had left them, so now the mom had to take care of the four kids on her own. As we drove up to the house, it was all dark. It was almost like I could feel the family’s hopelessness coming from the house.
We knocked on the door. That sad feeling went away as soon as the door opened and the kids saw who had come to visit. They shouted, “Santa’s here!”
I stepped into the house with the gifts and felt the Spirit so strongly that I almost started to cry. When I looked over at Dad, I could see he was holding back tears too. The kids were all running around saying things like, “This one has my name on it!” or “This one is for you, Mom!” As we passed out the gifts, I saw that the mom was crying tears of relieved joy. I got the sense she had told her kids that Santa wouldn’t be coming that year.
The kids and mom all hugged us and thanked us as we left. My dad and I rode back to my grandma’s house in complete silence, neither of us able to express with words what we had just felt and seen. It had been such a rare and beautiful experience, and we were both trying to savor the feeling.
On the drive home, I wasn’t worried about my own gifts anymore. I realized that what I had felt was just a small portion of the love Jesus Christ feels for us and that as we serve others, we can help them feel this love too.

“When I was about ten or eleven years old, I was involved with Primary. My teacher, Sister Zundell, was a very special person. She always taught us so effectively about the Savior. Many times while she was teaching, a little tear would trickle down her cheek, and it always impressed me that she had such tender emotions about the Savior. She taught us about His life and His teachings, which had a profound effect upon me. I can’t tell you the words or the stories that she told us; but just the way she did it, with the tears that would come, had a great effect upon me and the others in the class.

An accounting clerk at a large university became a respected member of his profession — even holding a high office in his professional association. He was active in his church and community and had a good family. One day he discovered how he could take small amounts from the university without anyone noticing. He told himself that he was underpaid anyway — and besides, he would only use the money a short while and then return it. But the next month, more money was needed. Just a little more would not matter — he'd pay that back, too. The months stretched into years. The total amount taken swelled to several hundred thousand dollars. Then came the day when an audit uncovered his fraud. His reputation was shattered. His career came to an end. His family disintegrated. Ties with his church were broken. Where once he was a respected member of the community, now he was a common criminal unworthy of the trust and confidence of any employer.

One missionary, for example, told of a dream she had at the age of nine or ten about the idea that God was an individual person, not three in one, and of a Heavenly Father whose son was Jesus Christ. Her views, which she held to faithfully, caused her and her family much discomfort during the time she went to private religious schools. Anyone she spoke to about religion was asked to satisfy her question, “Do you believe God is a person who has a son?” She often asked her friends at school, which was why she was troublesome to them and to her teachers. After a while, getting no satisfaction, she tired of asking.
Years later at work. when she was in her early twenties, she started talking with a co-worker about religion. These talks continued until the woman asked her to attend church with her. “I must ask you a question first,” she said. She asked the woman, and for the first time in her life received an answer that satisfied her. The woman answered, “Yes, my church teaches that God is the father of us all and has a son who is Jesus Christ.”
Missionaries were found, the young woman was taught the gospel, and as soon as possible she began serving on her own mission. On her first day of class when her MTC teacher walked in, she recognized her as the missionary who had taught her the gospel months earlier in a place far away from the Missionary Training Center.

Illustration by David Habben
I go to a school run by one of the churches in my country. Some time back I was chosen by my classmates to be our class counselor. One day as I was planning what to teach, I came across a Church booklet about the law of chastity. I decided to teach my classmates about chastity and asked the full-time missionaries for booklets, which I gave out during the lesson.
After my lesson, many students wanted to know more about the Church, so I taught them and gave them more Church materials, including the Book of Mormon. I did not know that this was not approved by the head teacher.
One day she called me to her office and asked me which church I went to. When I told her, she asked why I was giving out the Church’s “Bible” to the students. I told her that I gave them only to those who asked for them.
After a long talk about the Church, in which she made it clear that she believed it was not the Church of God, she told me, “I know that you have no parents, but I am very sorry—you will have to leave my school because you will convert many of my good students to that church of yours.” She told me to choose between the Church and my education.
She called an assembly and told the school that I was not allowed in school anymore because I belonged to the Mormon Church and that any other students following me would have to leave.
After the assembly, she asked what I had decided: my church or my education. I felt the Spirit telling me to stand for what I know: that the Lord has restored His true Church. I shared my testimony with her as I was leaving. She told me to return the following week to pick up a letter showing that I no longer went to the school.
When I came the following week, she had changed her mind! She wasn’t making me leave the school anymore. I was very happy, mostly because I had stood for what I knew to be true.
This experience taught me to always stand for what we know to be true. The Lord will always be there for us. If I had denied the Church, the students would have said that what I was teaching them was not true, but now they know that I know the truth.

“And so,” Sister Adams said, “as Jesus tells us in Matthew 7:7 [Matt. 7:7], ‘Ask, and it shall be given you.’ When we ask in faith, and do our part, Heavenly Father will always answer us. He wants us to be happy.”
So, Brandon thought, if Heavenly Father wants me to be happy, then He must want me to get away from what makes me unhappy. Yeah! And what makes me unhappy is Bobby!
Brandon rolled his eyes, remembering Bobby’s “Please, let me come with you, Brandon.” … “I didn’t mean to break it, Brandon.” … “Can I ride your bike?” … “Can I sit by you?”
That night Brandon prayed eagerly, “Heavenly Father, please make Bobby leave me alone. He’s always pestering me and making me really unhappy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Brandon hopped into bed with a smile on his face.
On Monday, Bobby insisted on walking to school with Brandon. He kept interrupting Brandon and Peter while they were talking about important stuff. He squeezed in beside Brandon at lunch and dripped milk on Brandon’s new pants. After school, he cried so hard that Mom made Brandon take him along to nail down the floor of the tree fort. On the way there, he spilled all the nails.
This isn’t working! Brandon’s thoughts raged. He grabbed Bobby’s hand and stomped back home.
Brandon flopped into bed after a complaining prayer that night. Then he thought, What did Sister Adams say exactly? Oh, yes—we have to do ourpart too. Of course! That’s what’s wrong. I’ve been expecting Heavenly Father to do it all for me.
“Run, Peter,” whispered Brandon the next morning. “Go to school by yourself, Bobby,” he yelled over his shoulder as the two older boys raced away.
At lunchtime, when Bobby approached their table, the two friends locked elbows and spread out their legs. “He’s turning around, Brandon,” Peter said, holding up his hand for a high-five. Brandon looked. All he could see of Bobby was hunched shoulders as he trudged away.
“No, you can’t carry the hammer, and no, you can’t come!” Brandon hissed at Bobby after school. “You’re nothing but a pest, and nobody wants you along anywhere—especially at the tree fort.”
Bobby’s face began to crumple. Brandon grabbed Bobby’s shirt front. “And if you start to bawl, I’ll never let you do anything with me again.”
Tears coursed down Bobby’s cheeks, but he didn’t make a sound.
Brandon marched off, clutching his hammer so tightly that his fingers ached. Nailing down the floorboards was hard work, but it went fast without his brother’s pestering. He stopped only when the sun was almost down.
Walking home, he was glad that he’d finished so much and glad that his prayers were being answered. But when he went inside, there was Bobby, sitting as still as a statue outside Brandon’s room. Brandon scowled and slammed his door shut, all his good feelings vanishing. His mind saw only Bobby’s sad face.
He’s just making it worse and worse, Brandon ranted to himself. He breaks my stuff. He ruins my games. And now he’s ruined my enjoying the tree fort too. Well, he’d better leave me alone—or else!
On Saturday afternoon, he came home from soccer practice to find Bobby wobbling down the street on his new bike. Brandon grabbed the handlebars and yanked the bike around hard. Bobby flew off. The next instant he was screaming. His hands were skinned, and a bump was growing on his forehead.
Brandon pushed his fear away with more anger. “Don’t you ever touch my bike again! Don’t ever touch anything of mine, for as long as you live!”
Brandon felt himself marched into the house. Up the stairs he went and into his room. “Hurting someone else is not the way to take care of disagreements, Brandon,” Dad said. “You know that. You will stay in your room until you can make things right with Bobby.”
Glaring at Dad as he closed the door behind him, Brandon stomped to the window. Mom was helping Bobby into the house and holding a cloth to his forehead.
Brandon refused to come down for dinner. He wasn’t about to “make things right.” It wasn’t fair to be punished when Bobby had taken his bike without permission.
On Sunday, Brandon came out only to go to church. Sister Adams taught the class how to use the Topical Guide in their Bibles to find scriptures to answer their questions and help them learn how to solve problems. She explained that the Holy Ghost could help them know which scriptures to read.
Back home, Brandon ate his meals in his room, still fuming. I’ll never make up with that little pest!
Monday was Bobby’s birthday. After school, Brandon stood at his bedroom window, watching Bobby and his friends yelling and jumping around in the backyard.
“Oh, wow! My favorite!” Bobby yelled as he tore open a package. “A praying mantis transformer robot!”
Brandon clenched his fists. He’d been wanting one of those for months.
“Oh, wow! A dragonfly robot!” Bobby waved a robot in each hand.
Brandon slumped on his bed.
After the guests had gone home, Bobby pounded up the stairs and into Brandon’s room. “Brandon!” He stopped at his brother’s scowl. “I—I just wanted to show you my transformers. …”
“Well, I don’t want to see them. So just get out of here.”
Bobby turned and shut the door softly behind him. Tears squeezed out onto Brandon’s cheeks. Since he’d decided to pray for what he wanted, everything had gone wrong! He didn’t understand it at all.
He must have dropped off to sleep, because it was dark when he woke up, way past dinnertime. His stomach growled as he opened his door to listen. They’re having family home evening without me, he thought. They don’t care about me at all.
Then he saw it—the praying mantis transformer robot. It had been placed on the tray of food by the door.
He sat in his doorway and picked it up. Did Bobby really give this to me? Shame flooded through him. Why would he do that, after how mean I’ve been to him? And what do I do now?
Sister Adams had said to look in the Topical Guide. She’d said that the answers to our problems are all in the scriptures.
He knelt by his bed, wanting help more than he’d ever wanted it before. “Heavenly Father, I feel awful! Please help me to feel the Holy Ghost prompting me, so I can know what scriptures to read that will help me. I really want to understand what to do about Bobby. Everything I’ve done so far has turned out wrong.”
Opening his Bible to the back pages, Brandon searched in the Topical Guide until he found the word Ask. That was what he needed to know: how to ask Heavenly Father for blessings so he could really get them. He began reading the phrases listed there. When he came to “Mosiah … 4:21 whatsoever ye a. [ask] that is right,” he was sure that this was his answer. He almost tore a page in his Book of Mormon in his haste to find the scripture:
And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.
Understanding flooded Brandon. It was right to ask Heavenly Father to help him be happy. What was wrong was trying to have happiness by making Bobby unhappy. Bobby couldn’t just disappear. He was part of Brandon’s family! So what was right was for them to be happy together. And that meant doing what the scripture in Mosiah said: imparting—sharing. Sharing things. Sharing time. Sharing fun.
And Bobby showed me how. Brandon picked up the transformer, which was even more precious now. Then his eyes scanned his room. When they came to his shell collection, he picked it up and went downstairs. “May I talk to Bobby?”
Brandon beckoned Bobby into the kitchen. “I found the transformer, Bobby. Thanks! That’s the best present I ever got.”
Bobby’s grin could have lit a rocket.
“And this is for you,” Brandon told him, handing him the box.
“Your shell collection? But, Brandon, it’s your most special thing!”
“No, it isn’t—my brother is.”
The warm feelings flooding Brandon were unmistakable. This time, he had asked for what was right and had done his part right. He could feel himself receiving happiness through his body. Bobby wasn’t a pest—he was a pretty neat kid. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” he prayed silently.
With their arms around each other, the brothers trooped into the living room.

My coach taught me a great lesson in my early development as a gymnast. I was leaving for my first national team training camp. Before I traveled to the camp, my coach told me only one thing. He didn’t tell me to learn any new maneuvers at the camp. He didn’t tell me to try to perform my routines better than the rest of the team. He told me that when I returned from that training camp that he wanted to hear me tell him, with all honesty, that I had worked harder than anyone else on the national team.
So I remember making it a point to be the last one out of the gym every day; and that didn’t mean just waiting at the door for everyone else to leave! Also, I remember that at night, when some team members would occasionally relax with their pizza and beer, I would go back to my room and do more exercises.
When I returned home two weeks later, I was proud to tell my coach, “Yes, I worked harder than everyone else.” I didn’t work twice as hard, just a little bit harder. But it was enough to help me to improve greatly. Sometimes, just a little bit is all that matters.

“On fast Sunday, Íngrid is the first in our family to get up and bear her testimony in sacrament meeting, and she bears her testimony like an adult,” her dad said. “Sometimes she’ll ask me, ‘Are you going to bear your testimony today?’ I’ll usually tell her that I’m not sure, because it’s hard for me to speak in public. And she’ll tease me by saying, ‘If you don’t, I’ll call you from the pulpit to come up and do it.’ I’ll say, ‘Don’t you dare!’ She smiles happily if I do go up.”

Rex: As long as we can pray, there will be miracles in our lives. Personally, I have been the beneficiary of these miracles on several occasions. Let me tell you about two of them, involving two separate people. A few of you have heard me talk about each of them. Fewer of you have heard both, and none has heard the connection between the two of them that occurred to me in a very powerful way as we were preparing this talk.

As some of you know, in late June of 1987, we made a sudden and emotionally devastating discovery that I had a very fast-acting form of lymphoma that was in its final stage at the time we discovered it. The day before I left to take my treatments at the National Cancer Institute in Bethesda, Maryland, I asked for a blessing from my home teacher, Rodger Galland, and my next-door neighbor and stake president, our new BYU president, Merrill Bateman. A couple of sentences that President Bateman pronounced during the course of his sealing the anointing will remain with me through this life and the next. His words were unequivocal. He said, “This disease will not take your life at this time. The Lord yet has other things for you to do in this life in the Church and in government, and you will recover and do them.” It must have affected him as profoundly as it did me, because at a stake conference, while I was still at NIH and things were looking somewhat bleak, he told our entire stake how convinced he was that that blessing had come from the Lord and that I would live.

I want you to know that I had that same conviction. During my darkest hours at that hospital, when it seemed that nothing was going right, I would fall back on the words of that blessing and the surety with which my friend, my brother, and my ecclesiastical leader had pronounced them.

Priscilla Staines, was born to Episcopalian parents in 1823. When she was nineteen she heard the gospel and decided to be baptized, knowing she would be ‘cut off’ from family, from friends, from society. She was baptized in mid-winter, at midnight to avoid mobs; walking four miles to be immersed in a hole chopped through ice, and then returning the four miles in freezing garments. She later left for Nauvoo, stating, “I was willing to make every sacrifice in order to gain my salvation and prove myself not unworthy of the saints reward.”

“Is that it?” Elliott asked the stake president.
“Yes, you’re officially released as a full-time missionary. Welcome home. You can start dating again.”
They shook hands. “Thanks. Oh, can I use your phone?”
“Sure. I’ll be in the other room with the stake clerk if you need me for anything.”
Elliott stared at the phone. He pushed his glasses in place with his index finger. It wasn’t that his glasses fit that badly. Mostly it was something he did when he felt nervous or threatened.
I can do it, he thought to himself, picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello,” Rachel said.
“Rachel? This is Elliott. I just got in town. In fact I’m calling from the stake president’s office. He just released me from my mission.”
“Oh, Elliott, welcome home. How was your mission?”
“Terrific. I can hardly wait to tell you about it.”
“Well, I’ll be sure and be there when you give your talk in church.”
He paused. “Actually, the main reason I called was, well, my mother says that you and Kyle have been going together, and I was just wondering, you know, how serious you are?”
“It’s funny you should ask. Last week he asked me to marry him.”
“Gee, that sounds fairly serious then, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I think so, Elliott.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“Before you think much more, can I come over and talk to you?”
“There,” she said. “I just put the stamp on my letter telling him I accept his proposal.”
“So maybe this isn’t a good time to call and ask you out?”
“No, it really isn’t, but thanks for thinking of me.”
“Well, I thought, you know, that you and me … I mean you and I … that we …”
“I’m sorry, Elliott. I really am.”
“You say you wrote to Kyle—where is he?”
“Well, you knew he joined the air force, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, he’s a fighter pilot. He was here a few days ago, and then they shipped him off to Alaska.”
“Alaska—that’s a long ways away, isn’t it?” He paused. “And you haven’t actually mailed the letter, right?”
“No. Like I said, I was just putting it in the envelope when you called.”
“How about waiting until tomorrow to mail it?”
“Why?”
“The way I look at it, until you actually mail it, you’re not officially engaged.”
“I think that’s really putting too fine a point on it, Elliott.”
“I’d like to see you tonight,” he said. “But I won’t bother you if you’re engaged.”
“Why do you want to see me?”
“So you can see firsthand what a mission can do for a guy like me.”
“Well, gee, I don’t know.”
“At least let me come over and talk to you.”
Ten minutes later she set the letter on the dashboard of his car. “Can you drop by the post office on our way home so I can mail this tonight?”
He drove by the high school. “You and I have a lot of great high school memories together, don’t we?”
She looked puzzled. “We do? What are they?”
“Do you remember the junior-senior prom when Scottie Anderson wore a tuxedo and tennis shoes, and Melanie Peters tried to pin Joe Pillen’s carnation on, and she stuck him, and he yelled. Do you remember that?”
She looked at him strangely. “I don’t remember that at all.”
“Oh,” he said quietly. “And then there’s those times we dated.”
“I guess we did date a couple of times, didn’t we?” she said.
“Three times.”
“Was it three? Okay, but still …
“All I’m asking is for you not to mail that letter for a few days. Go out with me, and let’s just see if some of that old magic is still there.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Elliott, am I forgetting something? What old magic are you referring to?”
“Remember how we used to kid around in seminary? I liked to sit next to you and make wisecracks so you’d laugh out loud in class and get in trouble. Rachel, you’ve got one terrific laugh.”
“You like my laugh?”
“You have the finest laugh in the world. Your laugh is like shaking a bottle of soda and then opening it up and having it spray out over everybody.”
She cleared her throat. “Let me see if I have this straight. You’re saying that because I laughed at your jokes, I should break off my engagement to Kyle.”
“You’re not engaged yet, so there’s nothing to break.”
“There’s one thing that puzzles me,” she asked. “Why didn’t you just give up when I told you about Kyle?”
“All right, let’s face it, he and I are in competition for you. Animals do that all the time you know—they fight for the female of the species. You take your basic buffalo, or your deer, or even your tiny chipmunk. All share this common characteristic that only the strongest male wins the female of the species. At first you might think this is unfair, especially if you happen to be one of the weak males, but actually it’s only nature’s way of ensuring that only the strongest will pass on their genes to posterity.”
She was looking at him like he was from another planet. He pushed his glasses back in place. “So,” he mumbled, “I take it you’re not a fan of ‘Wild Kingdom’?”
Then she burst out laughing.
“All right!” he cheered. “That’s the Super Bowl of laughs.”
“Your basic buffalo? Your tiny chipmunk? Give me a break!”
“Sorry. I haven’t dated for a couple of years, so I’m a little rusty. But I’m sure I’ll improve with time.”
“For your sake, Elliott,” she teased, “I certainly hope so.”
She asked if they could stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things for her mother. He pushed the shopping cart for her. “I can tell you still kind of like me,” he said.
“I’ve always liked you, Elliott—as a friend. I find you … well, interesting.”
He frowned. “Interesting? Is that all? How about ruggedly handsome?”
Diplomatically she turned to her shopping list. “If you see any Niblets corn, let me know.”
“So, tell me,” he said, “what else in life do you find interesting besides me?”
“The National Geographic,” she said, suppressing a grin.
“Would you say I rate above or below the National Geographic in degree of interest to you?”
She was trying hard to fake seriousness. “Well, of course you know that the National Geographic is a monthly publication.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Should I compare you with one issue or to a whole year’s worth of informative factual writing and wonderful color photographs?”
And then they both laughed.
On the way home he asked, “Basically, how am I doing so far?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“I learned that from my mission.”
“Be honest. Are you really sure you want to get serious with a girl so soon after your mission?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Well to be honest, not really.”
“Then why don’t we leave well enough alone. You keep on being unsure, and I’ll go marry Kyle.”
“But what if there’s no other girl in the world like you that I can joke around with? Give me two weeks. That’s all I’m asking. Two weeks for us to find out if we could ever like each other enough to want to get married.”
She paused.
“Look, I know Kyle’s tall, dark, handsome, and has good eyesight. I can see that some women might consider him more physically attractive than me.”
He waited for her to say it wasn’t true. But she didn’t say anything. “Well, is he?”
“Elliott, all Kyle has to do is walk in the room and I get weak in the knees.”
“And what happens when I walk into the room?”
“I start smiling because I know you’re going to make me laugh.”
“That’s it?”
“Elliott, mainly I think of you as a good friend. More like a cousin actually.”
He pushed his glasses into place.
They drove home and made popcorn and ate it on the front steps. At nine o’clock he said he’d better go home and be with his parents. “Don’t mail the letter for a while, okay?”
“All right, I’ll hold it for a few days.”
“How about going fishing with me tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“Fishing?” she asked.
“On the plane after my release I thought about what I wanted to do when I got home. I came up with two things—asking you out and going fishing. This’ll combine ’em both, sort of like killing two birds with one stone.”
She laughed. “How can I refuse such a deal?”
Elliott wasn’t quite sure why she was laughing. “I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
He shook her hand. She looked strangely at her hand and then smiled at him and went inside.
The next morning they drove to an old fishing hole he’d gone to before his mission. They found a large flat boulder near the edge of the water and sat down while he fixed their lines.
“You think we’ll actually catch anything?” she asked.
“Of course we will. When I go fishing I’m always sure I’ll do well.”
“Why’s that?”
“When I was a kid, my parents used to take me fishing out on a boat. My dad would bait my line first and then toss it overboard, and then he’d do my mom’s and then his. Since my line was in the water way before anybody else’s, I often caught the first fish. My parents used to say, ‘Elliott’s such a good fisherman. He always catches the first fish.’ Since I knew I did catch the first fish, I decided they were right. From that moment on, I thought of myself as a good fisherman.”
He cast her line out first.
“Later in junior high when I started going fishing by myself, I just knew I was a good fisherman. If I caught fish, then I thought to myself, ‘Of course—I’m a good fisherman.’ But if I didn’t catch anything, I thought, ‘Hey, if I didn’t catch any fish, then nobody caught anything, because I’m a good fisherman.’ No matter what happened, I always interpreted it in terms of this unshakable belief that I was a good fisherman. The amazing thing is that because I saw myself as a good fisherman, I became a good fisherman, because I never got discouraged and gave up.”
Her pole dipped strongly downward.
“I got one!” she yelled excitedly.
He coached her as she reeled in, and then took a net and dipped down into the cool clear water and pulled in a large trout.
“Rachel! All right!”
He removed the hook and put the fish on a stringer and set it back into the water.
Then he baited her hook and helped her cast out again.
“Rachel is a good fisherwoman,” he said. “She always catches the first fish.”
They sat down again and watched their lines.
“You know,” he said, handing her a donut, “lately I’ve been thinking. What if that’s the secret of success? What if nothing else is as important as how we feel about ourselves? If that’s true, then the most important thing to do is to build a child’s self-confidence. I’ve been thinking about majoring in education. I think I’d like to teach in grade school. That’s where kids need the most to be told they’re special.”
“What a treat for a kid to have you for a teacher. You’re so positive about everything.”
“On my mission I learned that Heavenly Father is positive about all of us. In the Doctrine and Covenants, he tells us to go ahead, do any good thing you want to do. He tells us that the power’s in us. I believe that. I think we should follow our dreams and not give up.
She sat a little closer to him.
“What are your dreams?” he asked.
“Well, I want to finish college. Kyle says there’s a college just a few miles from where we’ll be living, so maybe I’ll finish after we get married.”
“Anything else?”
“I want to be married in the temple and have children and be the kind of mother to my kids that my mother was to me.”
“Anything else?”
She paused. “You’ll think this is dumb.”
“No I won’t.”
“Since I was a little girl, I’ve written songs. I’ve always wanted to know if they were any good, you know, if I could find a record company willing to promote them.”
“What other dreams do you have?”
“I’ve always wanted to paint a picture that was good enough to hang in a living room.”
“You can do it. The power is in you to do it. You wouldn’t have the dream unless you had the power in you to put wings on it to make it fly.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Sure, why not? You should always believe you’re going to win.”
“But a person doesn’t always win.”
“No, but you should always believe you will.”
She smiled.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was picturing you on the Titanic just after it struck the iceberg. The ship’s sinking and everybody’s running around trying to jump into lifeboats, except you. You’re going around telling people, ‘Hey, no problem. Just think of it as a very large ice cube.’”
The sun was warm. She leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes, while he watched the water—and her. “I love to look at your face,” he said.
She didn’t answer.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes.
They ended up with five trout. They were home by eleven that morning. She invited him to eat lunch with her family if he’d cook up the fish they’d caught.
While he worked in the kitchen with her mother, Rachel went to get the mail.
“It’s nice to have you home again, Elliott,” her mother said.
“Thanks. It’s nice to be home.” He paused. “Can I ask you a question? How does Rachel get along with Kyle?”
“You should see how her eyes light up when he enters the room.”
He looked outside. She was sitting on the steps reading a letter. He knew it was from Kyle.
When she came back, she was uncharacteristically somber.
But he was too busy frying fish to talk.
After lunch, she walked him out to the car.
“Can I see you tonight?” he asked.
“Elliott, I got a letter from Kyle today. He’s gone ahead without me and ordered our wedding announcements.”
“Good grief! That means you must have already set a wedding date.”
“Well, we set one tentatively, but I’ve never actually agreed to marry him. And he knows that. I guess he just assumed my answer would be yes.”
Elliott pushed his glasses into place. “But he hasn’t actually sent the announcements out yet, has he?”
“No. He’s having them all mailed to me when they’re printed.”
“What a waste of money. Well, I suppose we could always cross out his name and write mine in. They have write-in candidates for elections, right? So why not for a wedding?”
“This isn’t funny, Elliott.”
“I never said it was.”
“Maybe it’d just be for the best if we quit seeing each other.”
“What for?”
“I hate to change horses in the middle of the stream.”
“No. Don’t think of it like that.”
“How else can I think of it?”
“Well, okay, you’re at this corral, see, and there’s all these horses milling around. At first you picked out this rather ordinary quarter horse named Kyle. But then you spot this magnificent Arabian named Elliott. So you turn to the man in charge of the horses and you ask, ‘Would it be all right if I changed my mind and took that Arabian instead of the one I originally picked?’ And the cowboy says, ‘Hey, Lady, it’s no skin off my nose.’ So you pick the Arabian. What I’m trying to say is, don’t think of it as changing horses in the middle of the stream. In the middle of the stream would be if you were officially engaged, which you’re not. But this is still in the corral. I think you should keep that in mind.”
She smiled. “You had to be the Arabian, didn’t you?”
After supper he showed up at her home again. Her mother met him at the door. “Rachel just left. She said she had to go to the post office.”
“I’ve got to stop her.” He ran to his car and took off for the post office. He got there just as she was about to drop a letter into the mailbox.
“Wait! Don’t mail that letter! It’s not in the middle of the stream! It’s still in the corral!”
An elderly lady, thinking he was a lunatic, hurried out the door.
Rachel dropped the letter into the chute.
He lunged for the letter, but it was too late. It was gone.
He sighed. “Okay, you mailed it. I can accept that. But until he actually receives the letter, you’re not officially engaged.”
“Calm down, it wasn’t a letter to Kyle. I was just paying my bill to a C.D. club.”
“Oh—sorry.”
They left the post office.
“Elliott, I don’t think you’re as interested in me as you are in achieving a goal you’ve set for yourself.”
“Two weeks, that’s all I’m asking.”
That night she wrote to Kyle and told him not to do anything more about marriage plans because she hadn’t made up her mind yet.
The next day when Elliott showed up at her home, it was a rainy day. They sat at the piano while she played the songs she’d written.
“They’re terrific songs,” he said. “You’ve got real talent. Let’s record your songs and send them out to some record companies. I think you’ve got a bright future as a songwriter.”
“You really think so?”
“Absolutely. You can do anything you set your mind on.”
They ate lunch. It was still raining. “One time you talked about wanting to paint a picture,” he said. “How about if we do that this afternoon?”
They drove to an artist supply shop and bought a large canvas and several tubes of paint and some brushes, and then they went to his house.
His mother talked to Rachel while he set up in the garage for their project.
“Elliott is very enthusiastic about you,” his mother said.
“As far as I can tell, he’s enthusiastic about everything.”
“Your mom and I talked yesterday. We’re a little puzzled about you two.”
“I’m puzzled too. I like Elliott very much.” She paused. “But I’m in love with Kyle.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Just then he burst into the house. “C’mon! Let’s go be Rembrandt!”
They went to the garage. Elliott had placed the canvas on the floor. They took an old tricycle and dabbed paint on the wheels and ran it back and forth across the canvas. They repeated the process several times with a variety of colors and wheels. It took them three hours and then they stood in the garage looking at their creation.
“I think it makes a very bold statement,” Elliott said with a grin.
“And tricycle art is so today,” she said. They started laughing. “Oh, Elliott, you’re so much fun to be with.”
On Sunday he spoke in sacrament meeting and told about some of the experiences he’d had on his mission. And then afterwards, he invited Rachel for lunch with his family.
On Monday Elliott located a music studio in town where they could record Rachel’s songs. On Tuesday he called around for some musicians, finally locating two guitar players and a drummer. On Wednesday night they recorded the songs.
Thursday night when he showed up, he could see by her expression there were problems. “What’s wrong?”
“Kyle got my last letter. He just phoned to ask what the problem is, so I told him about you. He’s really upset. He’s catching a military transport plane down here this weekend.”
The first time Elliott saw Kyle that weekend was at church. He wore his air force uniform. Elliott was depressed seeing how good Kyle looked in a uniform. Kyle and Rachel sat together in church. He draped his arm around her shoulders most of the meeting.
A member of the bishopric announced a Young Adult fireside at Rachel’s house.
Elliott lost track of them after sacrament meeting because he had a calling to teach Primary.
He spent the afternoon in his bedroom.
“Can I come in?” his mother said just before supper.
She came in and sat down on the bed. “Are you okay?”
“Well, no, I guess I’m not.”
“You’re worried about Kyle?”
“When he walks in the room, Rachel gets weak in the knees. But when I walk in the room, she starts snickering. You’re a woman. Tell me what I need to do so she’ll get weak in the knees when I walk in the room.”
“Is that what you really want? For her to be weak in the knees.”
“I want her to fall in love with me.”
“Just be yourself.”
“Mom, I’ve tried that, and it’s not enough. How can I compete with Kyle? He’s out of my class. A girl would be crazy not to fall in love with him. He looks terrific, he’s got an education, he’s an officer in the air force, a fighter pilot. He’s got a future, and what have I got? Three more years of schooling and then a poverty level income as a grade school teacher.”
She paused. “I think you’re wonderful, but of course I’m your mother. You’ll just have to wait and see what happens. There’s one thing on your side though.”
“What’s that?”
“She may be in love with Kyle, but I think you’re her best friend.”
“So?”
“Guess who my best friend is?” she asked.
“Dad?”
“That’s right.”
Monday morning Kyle left.
Rachel came over to see Elliott. He was going through the want ads looking for a job.
She sat down with him at the kitchen table. “Kyle said the chances of ever finding a record company willing to take a chance on my songs are pretty slim.”
“Realistically, I guess he’s right.”
She paused. “I showed him the painting we did. He made fun of it and said it looked like somebody’d taken a child’s tricycle and run it back and forth over a canvas.”
“Well, of course, that’s true.”
“And then I talked to him about taking college music courses after we were married. And he asked why I’d want to do a dumb thing like that.”
She quit talking.
“He told me all I had to worry about was being his wife. He tried to kiss me, probably thinking I’d just melt into his arms. But I pulled away and told him I needed some time, and that I wasn’t ready to get engaged to him. I tried to tell him how good I feel about myself when I’m around you, but I don’t think he understood. Anyway, he’s gone. So I’m available—if you want to go fishing sometime.”
“Let’s go tomorrow,” he said.
“Are the fish biting?”
“Of course they are. We’ll catch a lot of fish.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“We always do, don’t we? Let’s go to McPherson Reservoir. I always do well there.”
She paused. “They drained it last year.”
He paused. “Some other place then. It’s a big world. There’s lots of places to do well.”

Another challenge came several years ago when my husband and I divorced. This came as a shock to me. I didn’t know how to react. I thought I had a perfect little family. I was also going to dental school at the time. I left school to focus on my children. I feel that this was the best choice. I don’t regret it at all. But I had a lot of anger. How does someone just leave a marriage and four amazing children?
I was also terrified about what was going to happen to me and my kids. I cried and felt a sense of panic, wondering if they were still sealed to me. I talked to my bishop, and he said that Heavenly Father has promised that we are sealed for all eternity, but our agency will determine if we will be together forever. It gave me such relief to know that my kids were still sealed to me.
But I still felt anger and felt that I was not worthy to go to the temple. How can you go to the temple with so much anger? I also didn’t want to go to the temple because I am divorced. I felt like I didn’t deserve it because I was supposed to be in a marriage still.
I talked with my bishop again, and he told me that Satan doesn’t want me to go back to the temple. He wants to make me miserable and to feel that I’m not worthy. It was amazing when I entered the temple again. Going to the temple makes me feel better and stronger. Knowing that Heavenly Father is helping me be a mom, that I’m not alone, and that He is never going to abandon me or my family gives me so much strength. Now I make sure that my temple recommend is always current.
“I know I just need to keep moving forward and get closer to Heavenly Father each day. This is the way I’m going to be with my children forever.”
Even though their dad is not in the picture, I always tell my kids that I am here for them. We’re going to church, we’re doing our scripture study, and we’re praying. We have an understanding of how important family is and that we need to forgive each other, support each other, and cheer each other on.
People have asked me what I would do if I had an extra hour each day. Would I sleep? Would I eat? What would I do? I would have 15 minutes of quality time with each of my children.
I love my children so much that in spite of the great heartache from the relationship with their father, it was worth it to have them. That’s how much they mean to me. I have hilarious, amazing, and kind-hearted children. Even with their struggles, they always think of ways to help others.
Making sure our faith is strong keeps us going as a family. If we do our part, the Lord comes through on His blessings and promises. That’s something that I live by, and I am very blessed.

A few weeks ago, I flew to New York City to meet a new granddaughter. As my daughter and her husband met me at the door with their little three-day-old infant, there was an obvious radiance in that apartment. As they placed Hannah, who will be named after my mother, in my arms, she looked like a curled-up little doll with lots of dark hair. Within a few days, Hannah was stretching out her long legs and her long, thin feet, and I started to think of all of the things she will experience as she starts growing up. Perhaps she’ll have some of the same fears that I had—like being afraid to be alone in the dark at age six or seven. At age thirteen or fourteen, she may be sure, as I was, that there will never be boys as tall as she is. That concern was increased for me the following year when I became convinced that a person with feet as large as mine would surely never marry.
Those kinds of concerns are pretty normal, and the things that concern any of you would surely be concerns to me. But my greatest concern is that each one of you is growing in your spiritual understanding.
I have tremendous reverence for each one of you. My hope for you during these important years between the ages of twelve and eighteen is that you are going from being a dependent child to becoming a righteous, problem-solving woman of faith. It is a mighty work you do during these years, and when you do your work well, you will build a foundation for a responsible and righteous life.
When your leaders encourage you in the Young Women program to get involved with Personal Progress, I hope you will understand that this represents much more than goal-setting and receiving recognition, although that is very important. The greatest goal is that you would constantly choose experiences that would exercise or strengthen your faith in our Savior, Jesus Christ.
There is a chapter in the book of Alma—chapter 32—which seems to me to be written especially for young women. Alma teaches us how to exercise our faith and increase our belief in the words of our Heavenly Father. Would you go home and read this chapter and draw a circle around every time it says the word. Then read the first verse in the book of John where it says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1; emphasis added). And then in verse 14, “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth” (John 1:14; emphasis added).
In the book of John, the Word is referring to our Savior Jesus Christ. The prophet Alma, in teaching us about faith, helps us understand how our faith in Jesus Christ can be strengthened. Alma compares the word, or the gospel, encompassing our faith in the Savior, to a seed. In his words:
“Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.
“Now behold, would not this increase your faith? I say unto you, Yea; nevertheless it hath not grown up to a perfect knowledge” (Alma 32:28–29; emphasis added).
Personal Progress is like an experiment on the word. There are experiences with prayer, scripture study, strengthening family relationships, and service to others. Exercising our faith will increase and strengthen it. As we watch the accomplishments of great athletes, it is surprising to me that some would suppose that our spiritual growth comes without effort when our physical ability requires exercise and training.
Now listen to the wonderful promise that is given to those who exercise their faith—who will continue to nourish the word:
“But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life” (Alma 32:41; emphasis added).
Growing up spiritually requires faith, great diligence, and patience.
It takes maturity to look forward to those things that have eternal consequence.
In infancy, little Hannah responds to food when hungry. She responds to gentle voices and dry diapers. It will be some time before she realizes that her mother is reading the scriptures to her while she feeds her. It will be many, many months before she knows why heads are bowed and prayers are spoken at the dinner table. Yet her faith will begin to take root in this trusting environment. A little child can learn to respond to good feelings, but you are learning to take responsibility for your faith.
Listen to the words of three young women as each had experiences that provided a chance to exercise her faith.
[A video segment was shown in which several young women spoke of events and challenges in their own lives and the effect of those things on their faith.]
Each of these young women had a different kind of experience, but each chose to exercise and increase her faith. Sarah disregarded a feeling that what she was doing was wrong because of her eagerness to learn to drive. After a bad experience, faith gave her the motivation or the courage to evaluate her very frightening experience and make changes. Did you notice that at first she felt unworthy and unloved because she had made an unwise choice? She said she felt kind of worthless. Those feelings are normal after making a mistake, but she wisely evaluated what had happened and why it had happened that way. She reminded herself of her Heavenly Father’s love and what He would have wanted. She learned to listen to parents and acknowledge the feeling of warning. She recognized how she might use this understanding in another situation. This way every experience can become a growth experience. Our Heavenly Father wants us to overcome bad experiences and not remain stuck in our feelings of being unworthy.
The second young woman, Carly, experienced difficult family circumstances through a change in her father’s employment and a move to another state. She learned the value of family relationships and being together. Through united faith and prayers, she experienced the blessing of feeling our Heavenly Father’s love and support in bringing their family back together. Her faith was strengthened.
In the third story, Paulette had a different experience when she learned to accept an outcome that was not what she had hoped for. She knew about the great power of faith, a power that could move mountains, but when her friend’s mother died, she exercised her faith by trusting in Heavenly Father’s plan for us. Growing up spiritually requires us to see beyond our own desires and to enlarge our way of seeing things. We not only have to let go of our selfishness but sometimes let go of things we want very badly to come to understand our Heavenly Father’s point of view.
It is so important in this day that we each build an inner core of spirituality. As you exercise your faith and feel that spirituality grow, you will begin to feel more secure. You will feel more confident. Gradually we will come to more fully understand what it means to completely trust in our Heavenly Father and stand as a witness of God (see Mosiah 18:9). As we become righteous, problem-solving women of faith, we will learn to represent Him and do His work.
Three years ago I had another little granddaughter, named after me—Emily Janette. On the day of her blessing, I felt a tremendous desire for her welfare and a hope that the good things in life would come to her. In that instant, I thought of what it means when each one of us takes upon ourselves the name of Jesus Christ through our baptismal covenants. I have thought of His great desire for our welfare. I feel the love He has for the young women of His church. I have also thought of His great love and appreciation to you leaders—those of you who teach doctrine, who model righteous behavior, who provide an environment of trust where others can develop faith and practice righteous living.
I have a testimony of our Savior’s love for us. He understands our challenges. He will help us. We were intended to have experiences that will help us know good from evil. Most of us make mistakes. We can’t be perfect alone. The atoning gift of Jesus Christ allows us to let go of our weaknesses and be strengthened by His perfection. I bear my testimony of His atoning gift to us in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“I ended up staying with the family for a while,” Tyreece says. During his time with them, he continued to receive lessons from the missionaries, participated in the Church’s youth and then young single adult programmes, and was able to learn the routines of a Latter-day Saint home. He began to truly study the scriptures, and when he discovered the Lord’s commandment to honour our parents, Tyreece knew he had to make things right with his own family.
He and his parents started talking again and slowly rebuilt their relationship. His mother even started attending Church with him—she wanted to know the cause of her son’s change of heart. Around this time, Tyreece witnessed his friend Siale prepare for and be called to serve in the Brisbane Australia Mission. His testimony of the Church continued to grow and to strengthen. He just knew that all the blessings pouring into his life came from his choice to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ.

Later that year, at the open house for the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, I felt anxious and nervous. I said to my husband, “I think Kamau’s waiting for me inside the temple. I think he’ll be there with me.”
Inside the temple, the only room I really wanted to see was the celestial room. While waiting to enter, our tour guide said to our group, “I’m really sorry, but we’re not going to have much time in the celestial room. But I can promise you, brothers and sisters, that although your time will be brief, the blessings you will receive will be enough to last you for the eternities. And most importantly you will feel the love of our Saviour Jesus Christ.”
As we were about to walk in, my daughter, Indie-Rose, held my hand and said to me excitedly, “Mum, is this the special room you were telling me about?”
I answered, “Yes, it is.”
She then asked me, “Is this what it’s going to be like when we see Kamau?”
I replied “Yes, it’ll be as if we walked around the corner and there he is.”
Tears streamed down my face as the promise our tour guide spoke earlier was fulfilled. I could feel the pure love of our Saviour Jesus Christ comfort me. I felt that the words our tour guide spoke were in fact an intended message for me from my Heavenly Father, saying to me that although my time with my son was brief, the blessings and the love that I have for him will be enough to last me till the eternities.
In every room of the temple—every picture and every detail—I could feel the spirit of my beautiful son Kamau. It was confirmation to me that I need to be in the temple. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were reminding me of the heavenly comfort and divine healing I can receive within its walls because of the enabling power of the Atonement of our Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Never has the temple been more important in my life than it is now.

In my early life I had been very interested in oil painting, drawing, graphics—anything that had to do with art. Now I had lost the ability to even hold a pen or brush, and the scripture came to mind that if talents aren’t used they regress and become dormant. That’s exactly what had happened to me.
Then one day, as I sat working with a sander to strengthen the shoulder motion that I had, I noticed a pencil on the table. For a moment I daydreamed about how wonderful it would be to be able to do a simple thing like pick up the pencil and write my name. This illustrates how meaningful even the smallest things became.
At my request the brace maker fashioned a small attachment to the brace that enabled me to hold the pencil in an almost natural position. I stared down at the paper, afraid to begin. I felt like a small child picking up his first crayon. And as I applied the pencil to the paper, I found that I could only make senseless scribblings. I couldn’t even form the basic letters of the alphabet!
I won’t elaborate on the devastating discouragements that presented barriers at this time; but after three months of treatment, I did succeed in making one small drawing of a tree, and I had learned to print my name. This was, to me, great progress.

In my Aaronic Priesthood years in Hawaii half a century ago and as a missionary in England, we would gather in meetinghouses and (with intense effort) listen to the priesthood session using a telephone connection. In later years satellites allowed broadcasts to selected Church locations with those enormous dish receivers so we could both hear and view the proceedings. We were in awe of that technology! Few could have imagined today’s world, where anyone who has access to the Internet with a smartphone, tablet, or computer can receive the messages of this meeting.
However, this vastly increased accessibility to the voices of the Lord’s servants, which are the same as the Lord’s own voice (see D&C 1:38), has little value unless we are willing to receive the word (see D&C 11:21) and then follow it. Simply stated, the purpose of general conference and of this priesthood session is fulfilled only if we are willing to act—if we are willing to change.
Several decades ago I was serving as a bishop. Over an extended period I met with a man in our ward who was many years my senior. This brother had a troubled relationship with his wife and was estranged from their children. He struggled to keep employment, had no close friends, and found interaction with ward members so difficult he finally was unwilling to serve in the Church. During one intense discussion about the challenges in his life, he leaned toward me—as his conclusion to our numerous talks—and said, “Bishop, I have a bad temper, and that’s just the way I am!”
That statement stunned me that night and has haunted me ever since. Once this man decided—once any of us conclude—“That’s just the way I am,” we give up our ability to change. We might as well raise the white flag, put down our weapons, concede the battle, and just surrender—any prospect of winning is lost. While some of us may think that does not describe us, perhaps every one of us demonstrates by at least one or two bad habits, “That’s just the way I am.”
Well, we meet in this priesthood meeting because who we are is not who we can become. We meet here tonight in the name of Jesus Christ. We meet with the confidence that His Atonement gives every one of us—no matter our weaknesses, our frailties, our addictions—the ability to change. We meet with the hope that our future, no matter our history, can be better.
When we participate in this meeting with the “real intent” to change (Moroni 10:4), the Spirit has full access to our hearts and minds. As the Lord revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith, “And it shall come to pass, that inasmuch as they … exercise faith in me”—remember, faith is a principle of power and of action—“I will pour out my Spirit upon them in the day that they assemble themselves together” (D&C 44:2). That means tonight!
If you think your challenges are insurmountable, let me tell you of a man we met in a small village outside of Hyderabad, India, in 2006. This man exemplified a willingness to change. Appa Rao Nulu was born in rural India. When he was three years old, he contracted polio and was left physically disabled. His society taught him that his potential was severely limited. However, as a young adult he met our missionaries. They taught him of a greater potential, both in this life and in the eternity to come. He was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. With a significantly raised vision, he set a goal to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to serve a full-time mission. In 1986 he was ordained an elder and called to serve in India. Walking was not easy—he did his best, using a cane in each hand, and he fell often—but quitting was never an option. He made a commitment to honorably and devotedly serve a mission, and he did.
When we met Brother Nulu, nearly 20 years after his mission, he cheerfully greeted us where the road ended and led us down an uneven dirt path to the two-room home he shared with his wife and three children. It was an extremely hot and uncomfortable day. He still walked with great difficulty, but there was no self-pity. Through personal diligence, he has become a teacher, providing schooling for the village children. When we entered his modest house, he immediately took me to a corner and pulled out a box that contained his most important possessions. He wanted me to see a piece of paper. It read, “With good wishes and blessings to Elder Nulu, a courageous and happy missionary; [dated] June 25, 1987; [signed] Boyd K. Packer.” On that occasion, when then-Elder Packer visited India and spoke to a group of missionaries, he affirmed to Elder Nulu his potential. In essence, what Brother Nulu was telling me that day in 2006 was that the gospel had changed him—permanently!
On this visit to the Nulu home, we were accompanied by the mission president. He was there to interview Brother Nulu, his wife, and his children—for the parents to receive their endowments and be sealed and for the children to be sealed to their parents. We also presented the family with arrangements for them to travel to the Hong Kong China Temple for these ordinances. They wept with joy as their long-awaited dream was to be realized.
What is expected of a holder of the priesthood of God? What changes are required of us to become the manner of men we ought to be? I make three suggestions:
We need to be priesthood men! Whether we are young men holding the Aaronic Priesthood or men bearing the Melchizedek Priesthood, we need to be priesthood men, showing spiritual maturity because we have made covenants. As Paul said, “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things” (1 Corinthians 13:11). We should be different because we hold the priesthood—not arrogant or prideful or patronizing but humble and teachable and meek. Receiving the priesthood and its various offices should mean something to us. It should not be a perfunctory “rite of passage” that automatically happens at certain ages but a sacred act of covenant thoughtfully made. We should feel so privileged and so grateful that our every action shows it. If we seldom even think about the priesthood, we need to change.
We need to serve! The essence of holding the priesthood is to magnify our calling (see D&C 84:33) by serving others. Avoiding our most important duty to serve our wives and children, not accepting or passively fulfilling callings in the Church, or not caring about others unless it is convenient is not who we should be. The Savior declared, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind” (Matthew 22:37) and later added, “If thou lovest me thou shalt serve me” (D&C 42:29). Selfishness is the antithesis of priesthood responsibility, and if it is a trait of our character, we need to change.
We need to be worthy! I may not have the ability of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland when he spoke in a priesthood session a few years ago to “get in your face … , nose to nose, with just enough fire … to singe your eyebrows” (“We Are All Enlisted,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2011, 45); but, dear brethren, we need to wake up to how commonly accepted practices in the world choke our power in the priesthood. If we think we can even flirt with pornography or violations of chastity or dishonesty in any form and not have it negatively affect us and our families, we are deceived. Moroni stated, “See that ye do all things in worthiness” (Mormon 9:29). The Lord powerfully directed, “And I now give unto you a commandment to beware concerning yourselves, to give diligent heed to the words of eternal life” (D&C 84:43). If there are any unresolved sins preventing our worthiness, we need to change.
The only complete response to the question posed by Jesus Christ “What manner of men ought ye to be?” is the one He succinctly and profoundly gave: “Even as I am” (3 Nephi 27:27). The invitation to “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him” (Moroni 10:32) both requires and expects change. Mercifully, He has not left us alone. “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. … Then will I make weak things become strong” (Ether 12:27). Relying upon the Savior’s Atonement, we can change. Of this I am certain. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When my children were small, they liked to play games after family home evening. One of their favorites, “Trunky the Elephant,” was named after a song our daughter, Jocelyn, learned in school. After we all sang the song, I would be Trunky and give the children rides on my back. First, my two-year-old son, Jorge; then, my four-year-old daughter, Jocelyn; and finally my wife, Elizabeth, would climb on. With all three on my back, I would take them on a ride around the living room. We had a lot of fun.
Years later, my grown children were both waiting for their mission calls. During one family home evening, they remembered “Trunky the Elephant.” We sang the song together; then, after a hiatus of many years, I again became the elephant. First my son, then my daughter, and finally their mother climbed on my back. I ended up flat on the floor, and we all ended up laughing.
The memory of that moment makes us grateful that the prophets have taught us about family home evening. We learned that no matter how simple our family home evenings may be, the most important thing is that we have happy times with our families, times that strengthen our eternal ties.
Víctor G. Chauca Rivera

A young bishop of my acquaintance can testify to the impact of unkempt appearance on those around us and its relationship to the drug culture. One evening last June, Bishop E. Wayne Nelson of the South Shore Ward in Griffith, Indiana, received a telephone call from a jailer in an Indiana city, fifty miles from his home. The jailer was holding two Mormon boys who were charged with possession of narcotics. Bishop Nelson made several visits as these young men waited in jail for their cases to be heard. He learned that both were from Utah, the sons of active Latter-day Saint parents. Both had tampered with drugs in this state. Both had adopted an unkempt appearance, including shoulder-length hair. Soon after they arrived in Gary, Indiana, to look for work, and while they were walking down a street, a peddler of narcotics approached them and invited them to make a purchase. Faced with that temptation at that time in that place, the boys chose not to resist. Soon after this transaction they were arrested and charged with possession of the drugs they had purchased. After the bishop heard their story in jail, he asked them, “Why do you think the peddler approached you?” One boy responded, “I guess it was our appearance; we just looked like users.” These young men had taken upon themselves the badges of the drug culture, and they were easily identified and approached by those who sought to profit from their weakness.