Gospel Story Finder

One day on the way home from school, “T” took exception to the way his cousin George was treating Joe, “T’s” younger brother.
“I finally said, ‘If you do that once more, I’ll hit you one that you’ll remember.’ He went ahead and as a result we had a real fist fight. During the encounter, I brought blood from George’s nose, and we had quite a struggle in the dirt.
“It finally ended, and George went home as we did. When I arrived home Mother noticed the blood on my hands and on my shirt and asked what had happened. Of course, I explained. She didn’t chastise me for defending my younger and smaller brother, but she did say, ‘T,’ I’m right out of yeast. I want you to go over to Aunt Lulu’s (George’s mother) and get a start of yeast.’ I said, ‘Mother, don’t ask me to do that after I’ve had this encounter with George.’ She said, ‘That makes no difference. I need the yeast and I want you to go through the field and get the start.’”
Needless to say, “T” learned more about settling disputes than a lecture could have taught him.

Then, one night, I dreamed I was on a beautiful beach. A man with white hair was waist deep in the water. He had on white clothing and was holding up a copy of the Book of Mormon and encouraging me to come into the water, telling me that the Master wanted me. The next morning, I sketched a picture of the man I had seen in my dream. In the meantime, I continued my search for the truth.
Sometime later, two missionaries came to my home. Seeing that they held a copy of the Book of Mormon, I asked them in and showed them the picture I had drawn. The missionaries were very surprised. They told me it looked very much like a picture of President David O. McKay.
They asked if they could have the picture. Somehow the story of my dream and the picture itself got to Salt Lake City, and I received a letter from Elder Joseph Fielding Smith, who was then President of the Quorum of the Twelve. In the letter, he bore his testimony and counseled me to be baptized.
A missionary was given permission to extend his mission a week and stay in my home while we studied the gospel together. But, even after all this, my fear of making a mistake immobilized me, and I soon lost contact with the missionaries.
I continued to study the gospel, however, and one day, late in 1974, I left a note at the chapel in Wollongong, New South Wales, saying I wanted to meet with the missionaries. Once again they began teaching me. Three times they set a date for my baptism, and each time I postponed it. (Once they even had the font filled!)
My indecision came to an end when I was offered an excellent position as a translator for the Australian government. For this position I would have to travel to Canberra each Sunday, making it impossible for me to attend church. I decided not to join the Church, and to take the job.
Not long after I made the decision, I suffered a heart attack, which left me unfit to accept the position. Once again I promised to be baptized, but this time persecution from my former minister friends made me change my mind.
I was then offered a position as a Calvinist bishop, responsible for all the migrants in New South Wales. As I contemplated this offer, I suffered another heart attack—my seventh. I realized then that I could die at any time, and that I wanted to be baptized.
At last, on 15 March 1975, after knowing the truth but putting off acting on it for so long, I was baptized.
I have a great desire now to share the gospel with my fellowmen—especially those in Hungary. I have translated fourteen tracts into Hungarian, and much of the Book of Mormon. One day I hope to return to Hungary as a missionary and share with my former countrymen the restored gospel—the gospel the Lord had been preparing me to receive for so many years.

These qualities of personal independence and a determined seeking for spiritual guidance were to characterize John Taylor’s entire life. At the age of 15, he became an apprentice to a carpenter in the town of Penrith, some 30 miles north of Milnthorpe. Here he continued to pray and here he was converted to the Methodist Church. He was a zealous convert and spent much of his time studying the Bible and encouraging others in the practice of his new faith. One year after joining the church, he became an exhorter, a sort of local preacher who assisted the minister in visiting the outlying circuits and working with those in need of spiritual guidance.
It was while on one of these circuits that young John received what he later recognized as a revelation that would profoundly affect his life. As he walked toward his destination, he turned to a companion and said, “I have a strong impression on my mind that I have to go to America to preach the gospel” (B. H. Roberts, Life of John Taylor, p. 28). This impression never left him and played an important part in his later decision to join his family in Canada in 1832. It was there in the city of Toronto that he was contacted by Elder Parley P. Pratt. Elder Pratt was instrumental in converting John Taylor and most of the Methodist study group John had formed in the city. When John joined the body of the Church in Kirtland, Ohio, in 1837, the revelation received on that country lane in northern England was fulfilled, for he was to spend the remainder of his life preaching the gospel, both in America and abroad.

There is an apocryphal story about Mahatma Gandhi that comes to mind. Gandhi was not just a political and spiritual leader, he was also quite wise and people traveled from all over to ask his help with problems both small and large.
One day a peasant woman came to visit Gandhi. She brought with her her young son. She told Gandhi that her son was addicted to sweets. The sugar made him hyper and too wild to attend school. She hoped Gandhi would tell her son to stop eating sugar. She was sure that her son would listen to him. Gandhi paused and then told the woman to come back in one week. She came back one week later. Gandhi took the little boy, sat him on his lap and said simply, "Please do not eat sugar. It is bad for you."The boy smiled, promised to stop and returned back to his mother. His mother was understandably stunned. She had traveled over 100 miles. It was a difficult journey. Bewildered she approached Gandhi and asked,"Why didn't you just tell him to quit eating sugar last week when I first approached you?"Gandhi smiled and said patiently, "Last week, I too, was still eating sugar. ...We must be the change we wish to see in the world."

While traveling on the path to the tree of life, there is no shortcut to reach it; there is just danger off the designated path chosen by Jesus Christ. I often am looking for a shorter or better way to reach a goal or accomplish something that I need to do in my life, but I try to make sure that this way does not affect my eternal salvation or put me in danger of losing something very precious. However, I am reminded of a time I decided to create my own shortcut to reach a destination.

Near my daughter’s home in Denver is a delightful cement and asphalt bike path and walkway. The path leads one through undeveloped as well as developed areas. When I visit there, I take my granddaughter in her stroller as I do my daily walks. The beginning of the path that leaves my daughter’s area is downhill for about eight to ten minutes of the walk. You know what that means: the last of the walk is uphill. After walking for 45 minutes or so, I always dread that last uphill climb—especially pushing a stroller.

When I first started walking this path, I noticed that just before the sidewalk begins its ascent back to my daughter’s street, there is a dirt path that is much shorter but steeper than the cement pathway. It would lead me to the street and thus cut out some of the uphill climb near the end. I figured a short uphill climb would be better than a long one, even with its steepness.

Therefore, on one of my walks I decided to attempt it and began to push the stroller up the path. However, I failed to notice that on the dirt path there was also gravel. Halfway up, my feet began to slip on the rocks, and I found myself and the stroller going backward. I concluded that this was not a good thing, and I became concerned for the safety of my granddaughter as well as for myself. Luckily, grasping the stroller tightly, I was able to turn the stroller off the dirt path and head it back down to the safety of the sidewalk, even though I was running because of the decline. I never attempted that shortcut again.

New Era: Have you had any special experiences in baseball because of your membership in the Church?
Brother Killibrew: All of us have plenty of opportunities to tell someone about it. I remember one day, just after I joined the Church, that I was playing first base and happened to be hitting pretty well at the time. In fact, I was in a hot streak. One player on another team was really struggling and having a tough time hitting. Well, he finally got to first base and said, “Say, what church was that you just joined? I’ll join myself, if it can help me hit the ball like you do!”
New Era: Even before you were a Latter-day Saint, you were well-respected and had a good-guy image. Has your life really changed very much since you joined the Church?
Brother Killibrew: I think my life has undergone a complete change since I joined the Church. It really has. And I’m very thankful for the gospel in my life and for the closeness of our family.
New Era: Besides the change in your life, has the gospel had an influence on your baseball career?
Brother Killibrew: Yes, in many ways. One of the most dramatic was demonstrated when I ruptured the hamstring muscle in my left leg in an all-star game. There was a real question as to whether I would ever play again. I was using crutches. Two bearers of the priesthood administered to me. After that I no longer needed the crutches, and my leg healed up very nicely. The next year was the year I got the Most Valuable Player award.
New Era: How about the Word of Wisdom as a factor for the athlete?
Brother Killibrew: There is no question that it has helped me to keep playing, even with minor injuries. With the rugged schedules that we follow, if a player does not take care of himself in all ways, it’s very difficult for him to do his best day after day. I have a strong personal testimony that the Word of Wisdom is a true teaching and that it has been a definite help to me.
New Era: How do you feel about working on Sundays?
Brother Killibrew: I wish I didn’t have to do it, but it is part of my business and there is nothing I can do about it. I try to attend priesthood meeting on Sunday morning whenever I can. During the off-season, I try extra hard to be active in my elders quorum and all the other programs of the Church.
New Era: How did it feel to win the Player of the Year award?
Brother Killibrew: Good! It felt great! But let’s put this kind of thing in perspective. Being chosen player of the year can’t even compare with the great feeling I had when I went to the temple with my family. That was a wonderful and special experience. It means so much to me to know that we will always be together as a family.
New Era: What advice would you give to Latter-day Saint youth?
Brother Killibrew: Stay close to the Church. If they do that while they’re young, they’ll have a good chance of staying with the Church throughout their whole lives.
I’ve learned that no one ever has to be ashamed of the gospel. People respect you for your beliefs. Sure, I get a little kidding once in a while, but on the whole, people seem to respect me for the principles I follow. I wish all of our Latter-day Saint youth knew this—you don’t have to go along with the crowd when the crowd is wrong. Self-respect and the respect of others will come to the person who stays close to the gospel.

Five years later, two young men in suits stood at Mark and Letitia Stoon’s front door. They wanted to come in and share a message about Christ, they said. “No, I don’t think so,” Mark began, but Letitia, who had come to see who was at the door, stopped him. “Wait, are you the people with the Book of Mormon?”
The young man smiled. “Yes, we are,” one of them answered.
“I have a friend, Amy Richards. She was my roommate at college for a couple of years. She gave me one of those before she left to be a missionary in Mexico.”
“Really? That’s great. Did you read it?”
“I read some of it. I thought it was interesting. Amy always seemed to care about it. And she still writes to me. She’s a good friend.”
“Do you mind if we come in and talk about it with you a little bit?”
“Not at all,” Letitia smiled. “Come on in.”

On the morning of Thursday, July 20, 1837, the merchant ship Garrick slipped quietly into the River Mersey and anchored opposite the bustling English seaport of Liverpool. To the uninformed bystander, the vessel, newly arrived from New York, was no different from any other. It was the dawn of the Victorian age, and Liverpool was already establishing an ascendancy as the greatest English port, which it retained for half a century.
But among the weary passengers were seven men whose presence made the Garrick far from insignificant—men whose simple but provocative message was soon to send thousands of English men, women, and children to the United States. The seven Americans were Mormons—the first missionaries to preach the restored gospel in this dispensation outside North America. Their unheralded arrival and the dramatic events of the next few months came to form a fascinating chapter in the history of northwest England and left an indelible stamp on The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Today their names stand boldly among the spiritual giants of the Church: Heber C. Kimball, grandfather of President Spencer W. Kimball; Joseph Fielding; Orson Hyde; Willard Richards; John Snyder; John Goodson; and Isaac Russell.
To British Saints and thousands of Americans whose ancestry springs from this part of England, Liverpool and Preston are as much a part of the rich Latter-day Saint heritage as Nauvoo and Kirtland. And it was the word heritage in a letter from the First Presidency to all units of the Church that triggered a chain of events leading to one of the most unusual and spectacular joint activities ever organized by the Liverpool and Preston districts.
That letter urged Church members to organize significant activities to commemorate their history as part of an international heritage year. Rod Fullwood, seminary supervisor in the Liverpool District, and his counterpart in the Preston District, Arthur Hardy, had already talked over the possibility of a joint seminary graduation. From that it was a short step for them to come up with the concept of a major commemorative program telling the story of the first missionaries to arrive in England and the events leading to the first baptisms in the River Ribble in July 1837.
Once the plan had been approved by the Preston and Liverpool district presidencies, the next few weeks were marked by frantic activity as seminary groups in each branch worked on their own projects. Branches in the Liverpool District were assigned to re-create the atmosphere and scenes of 1837 by staging an “English Fayre,” complete with stalls from the period. They also wrote a dramatic production telling the story of early Mormon emigrants. Period dress for the nearly 200 young people and adults who attended was mandatory, but forseeing the likelihood of a few arriving in 20th century dress, the organizers assigned the Southport Branch to construct a set of stocks to “discipline” offenders.
The play, “The Emigrant Ship,” was based on the Charles Dickens’ novel, The Uncommercial Traveller, not one of the great author’s best-known works but certainly the most significant from the point of view of Church history. The fact that Dickens commented on the Church is little known, and even among Latter-day Saints it is not widely appreciated. But his reference to 800 Mormon emigrants as “the pick and flower of England” was one of the first recorded compliments paid to the English Saints by anyone of standing.
The script, by David Irwin, closely followed Dickens’ original prose, but other characters were interjected into the story during the production. Well-performed, it gave members a valued insight into the atmosphere of those early days.
Dickens: (To audience) Now, I have seen emigrant ships before this day, and these people are so strikingly different from all other people in like circumstances whom I have ever seen, I ask the captain … what would a stranger suppose these emigrants to be?
Captain: What indeed!
Dickens: When did they arrive here?
Captain: Most of them came aboard yesterday evening.
Dickens: And from where did these people come?
Captain: They came from various parts of England in small parties and had never seen one another before.
Dickens: They had never seen one another before? How have they settled down on board?
Captain: They had not been a couple of hours on board when they established their own police, made their own regulations, and set their own watches at all the hatchways. Before 9:00 the ship was as orderly and quiet as a man-of-war. A stranger would be puzzled to guess the right name for these people.
Dickens: Indeed he would.
Captain: If you hadn’t known who they were, could you ever have supposed?
Dickens: How could I? I should have said they were the pick and flower of England.
Captain: So should I.
Dickens: How many are there?
Captain: Eight hundred.
Dickens: Eight hundred of the pick and flower of England! What has motivated these emigrants of all ages?
Later Dickens says, “Afterwards I learned that a dispatch was sent home by the captain before he struck out into the wide Atlantic, highly extolling the behavior of these emigrants, and the perfect order and propriety of all their social arrangements.
“What is in store for the poor people on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, what happy delusions they are laboring under now, on what miserable blindness their eyes may be opened then, I do not pretend to say. But I went on board their ship to bear testimony against them if they deserved it, as I fully believed they would; to my great astonishment they did not deserve it; and my predispositions and tendencies must not affect me as an honest witness.
“I went over the ship’s side feeling it impossible to deny that, so far, some remarkable influence had produced a remarkable result, which better known influences have often missed.”
The afternoon following the “Fayre” and the dramatic production the Liverpool Saints joined those at Preston for the second half of the program—a sermon on the banks of the Ribble and a commemoration of the baptisms that took place there in July 1837.
The weekend’s events provided a natural attraction for newspapers, radio, and television, and they were widely publicized. The events were relayed in a four-minute spot on BBC television, which also included an interview with Brother Fullwood. In addition to newspaper reports of the weekend, at least one Lancashire paper began plans for a full-scale feature on early Church history.
Appropriately winding up the commemoration, a 24-member Brigham Young University ballroom dance team, which had been performing in international competition in nearby Blackpool, gave a brief display for members immediately before the seminary graduation. As if to underline the point, it was then announced that Preston seminary students had beaten all other districts in Britain in enrollment and work completion for the year.
Said Brother Fullwood: “I think the weekend’s events and all the work that went in beforehand have given the members here a greater appreciation for those early missionaries as well as for our own heritage. The fact that an ambitious program like this was so successful will encourage us to shoot for high goals in the future.”

During the years of the Vietnam War, I received orders to Taiwan, the Republic of China. This would be a remote assignment, meaning that I would go without my family. This assignment, although not entirely unexpected, was heartbreaking to me. We had four little children, including an eight-week-old baby girl, that I would leave behind for 15 months of military duty.

I made a covenant with the Lord. "Heavenly Father, I promise to do all I can to build up the kingdom in Taiwan. Please take care of my little family while I am away and please bless me to have the strength to bear this separation."

I left my family in Utah and flew from Salt Lake City to McCord Air Force Base in Washington State where I boarded a military aircraft. I shed tears when I bid farewell to my wife and four little children at the Salt Lake Airport. I was emotional as my flight left McCord Air Force Base. But the depths of sadness came to me when, after transferring aircraft in Taipei, we landed in a C-130 aircraft on an airfield at Ching Chuan Kang Air Base in Taiwan to begin my new assignment. I was half way around the world from the people I loved. My little eight-week-old daughter would be 17 months old when I would see her again. I would miss Christmas with my family, I would miss five birthdays, I would miss Thanksgiving, I would miss our anniversary. Brother Russell was a sad Brother Russell that day.

I had to find my friend. And my emotional health required that I find my friend quickly. During in-processing, I asked for the name of the LDS contact on base. I was told that Senior Master Sergeant Luman P. Lewis, from Bossier City, Louisiana was on record as the leader of the Mormons.

I was not on that base sixty minutes before I had Brother Lewis on the phone. "Brother Lewis, this is Stephen Russell. I just arrived on base. I'm missing my family and I want to have contact with the Church." Brother Lewis responded, "Welcome to CCK, Brother Russell. Our little Church group consists of seven other lonely guys just like you; we all miss our families. We gather every evening at 7:00 P.M. in my dorm room. We find if we stick together, we all stay out of trouble."

I went to Brother Lewis's room that night. I find it challenging to describe the peace that came to me when I saw his Latter-day Saint smile, when I felt his firm Latter-day Saint hand shake, and when I saw Latter-day Saint things in his room. There were photos of his family and of temples. I saw copies of the Ensign magazine and the Church News on his table. The scriptures were on his pillow. I knew that I was with my friend, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Brother Lewis served the eight of us in his room that night vanilla ice cream floating in grape juice. I had never heard of grape juice floats before or since. That was an unusual combination. But I got used to it. Brother Lewis served grape juice floats every evening.

Night after night, we'd meet at Brother Lewis's room. We would review the news of the day, share stories from home, eat ice cream floating in grape juice, play games, or go to a movie or a ball game. Sometimes we'd go to town. But we would always go as a group, because we knew that being away from our wives, there was safety in numbers.

I honestly don't know how I could have survived socially or spiritually were in not for President Lewis and the LDS Servicemen's Group at CCK, Taiwan.

Even today, whenever I encounter grape juice, my mind goes back to a dorm room in Taiwan 34 years ago, and I am reminded of what a great friend I have in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Most of all, I think eternal marriage cannot be achieved without a commitment to make it work. Most of what I know about this I have learned from my companion. We have been married for almost 47 years now. From the beginning she knew what kind of marriage she wanted.
We started as poor college students, but her vision for our marriage was exemplified by a set of silverware. As is common today, when we married she registered with a local department store. Instead of listing all the pots and pans and appliances we needed and hoped to receive, she chose another course. She asked for silverware. She chose a pattern and the number of place settings and listed knives, forks, and spoons on the wedding registry and nothing else. No towels, no toasters, no television—just knives, forks, and spoons.
The wedding came and went. Our friends and our parents’ friends gave gifts. We departed for a brief honeymoon and decided to open the presents when we returned. When we did so, we were shocked. There was not a single knife or fork in the lot. We joked about it and went on with our lives.
Two children came along while we were in law school. We had no money to spare. But when my wife worked as a part-time election judge or when someone gave her a few dollars for her birthday, she would quietly set it aside, and when she had enough she would go to town to buy a fork or a spoon. It took us several years to accumulate enough pieces to use them. When we finally had service for four, we began to invite some of our friends for dinner.
Before they came, we would have a little discussion in the kitchen. Which utensils would we use, the battered and mismatched stainless or the special silverware? In those early days I would often vote for the stainless. It was easier. You could just throw it in the dishwasher after the meal, and it took care of itself. The silver, on the other hand, was a lot of work. My wife had it hidden away under the bed where it could not be found easily by a burglar. She had insisted that I buy a tarnish-free cloth to wrap it in. Each piece was in a separate pocket, and it was no easy task to assemble all the pieces. When the silver was used, it had to be hand washed and dried so that it would not spot, and put back in the pockets so it would not tarnish, and wrapped up and carefully hidden again so it would not get stolen. If any tarnish was discovered, I was sent to buy silver polish, and together we carefully rubbed the stains away.
Over the years we added to the set, and I watched with amazement how she cared for the silver. My wife was never one to get angry easily. However, I remember the day when one of our children somehow got hold of one of the silver forks and wanted to use it to dig up the backyard. That attempt was met with a fiery glare and a warning not to even think about it. Ever!
I noticed that the silverware never went to the many ward dinners she cooked, or never accompanied the many meals she made and sent to others who were sick or needy. It never went on picnics and never went camping. In fact it never went anywhere; and, as time went by, it didn’t even come to the table very often. Some of our friends were weighed in the balance, found wanting, and didn’t even know it. They got the stainless when they came to dinner.
The time came when we were called to go on a mission. I arrived home one day and was told that I had to rent a safe-deposit box for the silver. She didn’t want to take it with us. She didn’t want to leave it behind. And she didn’t want to lose it.
For years I thought she was just a little bit eccentric, and then one day I realized that she had known for a long time something that I was just beginning to understand. If you want something to last forever, you treat it differently. You shield it and protect it. You never abuse it. You don’t expose it to the elements. You don’t make it common or ordinary. If it ever becomes tarnished, you lovingly polish it until it gleams like new. It becomes special because you have made it so, and it grows more beautiful and precious as time goes by.

Unfortunately, my life was disrupted when my parents decided to split and divorce. Life was in complete disarray for the next two years. My siblings and I were separated and moved around to different family members. My grandpa, uncles, and aunts all took turns having us in their homes, but nothing was stable. I rotated through living in cities in California, Utah, and Hawaii, never spending more than six months in one spot. I attended many new schools, which made it really hard to make friends. I missed living in the same home as my siblings. During this time, my parents were still trying to figure out their plans with life and college. I missed them. I missed my family and my life. Dealing with divorce in a household is difficult, which, unfortunately, some of you may know through experience. I was broken, and I didn’t understand what was happening. I questioned everything and often blamed myself. I was lost and desperate for answers that never came.

Eventually, my father decided it was time for me and my siblings to live together with him in Utah. I was attending Cascade Elementary in Orem, and it was my fourth-grade year. At this time, the BYU football team was the only thing that brought joy in my young life. It happened to be 1984, the undefeated national championship year. I felt like God answered all my prayers every week for every game. I remember specifically asking Heavenly Father to bless the players and their health, especially Robbie Bosco, because he was always limping for some reason.

When the school announced that the national champions were coming to visit Cascade Elementary, it felt too good to be true. The BYU football players and coaches were amazing. They took turns speaking to the entire school. Afterward, they signed autographs and took pictures. They also participated in different activities and games. I was amazed at their presence and their kindness, as they interacted and laughed with the students and teachers.

Although it was exciting that they were there, I was still sad. I had no confidence and very low self-esteem. I was in a lot of pain: I missed my home. I missed Laie, Hawaii. I missed my friends. I missed my mom. So I sat on the side, satisfied to just watch from a distance.

One of the players noticed me on the side and motioned to me to come join them. I made sure it was me he was motioning to, and then I quickly shook my head no. He then started walking toward me. I froze. This was a big-time player. In fact, he was my favorite player. I didn’t know what he wanted—and why was he coming to talk to me? He asked me a couple of questions and did most of the talking for a quick minute. Before he left to go rejoin the group of students and players, he gave me a hug. It was different than I had ever felt before: I felt warm, and I felt safe. During the embrace, he said, “Everything is going to be fine. I love you and God loves you.” I had heard the words “everything is going to be fine” or “everything is going to be okay” probably a thousand times before, but this was the first time I actually believed them. My heart was full of joy and love. That hug fixed something in me that was broken, and during that hug, I decided that I would play football for BYU and be just like that player, Vai Sikahema.

Vai Sikahema wore the number 23 at BYU and played running back and kick returner, and I wanted to be just like him. Ten years later, as a BYU freshman in 1994, I wore the number 23 in his honor and played running back—just like him—to show my appreciation to him for having such an impact in my life. He became the first Tongan to play in the NFL, and he had a fantastic career as an All-Pro returner. Elder Sikahema is currently serving as a General Authority Seventy for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Years later, I asked him if he remembered this moment. To my surprise, he didn’t specifically remember meeting a shy nine-year-old at Cascade Elementary in Orem, Utah. But to me it was everything! He was “responsive to spiritual promptings.” As Elder Rasband reminded us, “The Lord’s hand is guiding you. By ‘divine design,’ He is in the small details of your life as well as the major milestones.” For Elder Sikahema it was a small detail; but for me, it was a major milestone.

A freshman in college! I could hardly believe the excitement I felt at being on my own, at being free to make my own choices and be my own person. I quickly found out there was much more to university life than just going to school. I became immersed in the fun activities of college life, and many, many nights I stayed up past the moon.
Saturday nights in particular were a problem because everyone knew there were no classes the next day. My previous 100 percent attendance at church became a thing of the past. I got so little sleep before my 9:00 A.M. Sunday meeting that crawling out of bed seemed physically impossible. On mornings when I was able to drag my limp body to the church doors—late, of course—even the hard, wooden benches seemed to invite me to stretch out and sleep.
Needless to say, I wasn’t getting much out of the meetings. Finally one Sunday I realized I hadn’t been to church for two weeks in a row. My conscience bothered me. Maybe that’s why I began reading in the Old Testament. If I couldn’t get to my church meetings, maybe I could at least learn something on my own.
Then I noticed a scripture I had highlighted during some previous reading. The words seemed to almost grab me and shake me.
“I have taught thee in the way of wisdom; I have led thee in right paths.
“Take fast hold of instruction; … for she is thy life.
“Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men” (Prov. 4:11, 13–14).
It was as if my Heavenly Father were saying, “You should know better!” All my life, loving parents, teachers, and leaders had taught me “the way of wisdom.” I had been led “in right paths.” I ought to have had enough understanding to know how to do what is right, to remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.
For the first time since I’d been at school, I realized the awesome responsibility I held for my own spirituality. It wasn’t up to my parents or other adults to keep me from the “path of the wicked.” I had to do it myself.
I guess I’m still something of a night owl. And I probably could do better at making sure I’m 100 percent prepared for the Sabbath. But since the day I read that scripture, I’ve learned that I’d better get some sleep on Saturday night if I want to be sharp on Sunday. It has become a priority in my life.

I live in the city of San Salvador in El Salvador, and I love to prepare names for temple ordinances.
The Relief Society sisters in my branch asked if I could learn to index names using the FamilySearch program. I wanted to help. My mother also wanted me to help, so we began learning how to index together.
When I first started, it took me a whole day to index nine names. But now, after working hard and practicing, I can index 300 names in a day.
After finishing my homework, I spend time indexing names. For me, indexing is as fun as playing or watching TV. But I know that it has a greater purpose.
Heavenly Father blessed me with the opportunity to help prepare names for temple ordinances for more than 2,000 of my Salvadorian ancestors in the spirit world.

During this eighteenth-century period, throughout established communities in America, women were organizing themselves in societies, often religious, with the aim of encouraging moral direction and sustaining those in need. Thousands of such circles were found in towns and cities in the more developed East of the young United States. Latter-day Saint women in Nauvoo were not unaffected by this movement, having either heard of such activities elsewhere or having themselves been involved before joining the Saints in Nauvoo. Wanting to provide charitable aid to the poor in the young city of Nauvoo and seeking to contribute in some way to the construction of the temple, a small group of sisters came together determined to organize themselves formally. They often met in the home of Sarah Granger Kimball. On March 4, 1842, the members of this group voted to draft a set of rules governing the group, and Eliza R. Snow was commissioned to write a constitution and bylaws. These documents were presented to the Prophet Joseph Smith for his approval. Sister Kimball reported that Joseph was impressed with their work, observing that the constitution and bylaws “were the best he had ever seen,”1 but he said “they were not appropriate to the purposes of the Church as a whole.”2 Inviting the group of sisters to meet with him, Joseph promised that he would provide “something better for them than a written Constitution.”3 The group of twenty women gathered with the Prophet Joseph Smith, John Taylor, and Willard Richards in a second-story room of the prophet’s red brick store on March 17, 1842. The result of that meeting was that the women would function beyond the other benevolent societies of the time—organized according to heaven’s plan for them and guided by priesthood and prophetic vision. Eliza R. Snow declared “that the popular Institutions of the day should not be our guide [that] we should set an example for all the world, rather than confine ourselves to the course which had been heretofore pursued.”4 The initiative of those sisters and their seeking Joseph’s prophetic charge was the genesis of what we recognize to be the Relief Society, which has become a powerful force in the Church and world with membership now exceeding six million.

Joseph Smith cheerfully practiced serving others in the Lord’s way. James Leach and his brother-in-law, after looking for work in Nauvoo many days without success, determined to ask the Prophet for help. James recalled:
“I said, ‘Mr. Smith, if you please, have you any employment you could give us both, so we can get some provisions?’ He viewed us with a cheerful countenance, and with such a feeling of kindness, said, ‘Well, boys, what can you do? … Can you make a ditch?’ I replied we would do the best we could at it.
“… When it was finished I went and told him it was done. He came and looked at it and said, ‘… If I had done it myself it could not have been done better. Now come with me.’ He led the way back to his store and told us to pick the best ham or piece of pork for ourselves. Being rather bashful, I said we would rather he would give us some. So he picked two of the largest and best pieces of meat and a sack of flour for each of us, and asked us if that would do. We told him we would be willing to do more work for it, but he said, ‘If you are satisfied, boys, I am.’
“We thanked him kindly and went on our way home rejoicing in the kindheartedness of the Prophet of our God.”2

While discussing how to approach our friends, my wife and I decided that our friends would more likely agree to the lessons if other non-Mormon couples were in attendance. They would be more relaxed in a group, less the center of attention. Furthermore, we had been impressed with Wilford Woodruff’s success in teaching people in large groups. Apparently, during those occasions, the Spirit was very intense, so strong that listeners sometimes received a testimony strong enough to motivate them to request baptism on the spot.
Having gone this far, we contacted one of the district leaders in our mission, Elder Bruce Chadwick, whom we knew, and told him our plans. He was enthusiastic and even offered to do the teaching, with the help of one of the zone leaders, Elder Dennis Stoddard.
A day or so later, Elder Chadwick and Elder Stoddard visited our home to discuss the matter further. We decided to serve dessert each time, to break the ice while everyone visited for fifteen or twenty minutes before the lessons started. In this way we would not interfere with the spiritual influence the elders wanted the investigators to carry home.
The teaching elder would periodically ask for our comments, a signal to us, if we felt inspired, to bear our testimony on the point just discussed. We would also help answer questions. The elders decided to postpone the baptismal and Word of Wisdom challenges until the end when we could meet with each investigator individually. This avoided any hint of pressure during the group meetings without hindering the conversion process: the baptismal and long-term activity rates turned out to be higher than usual.
Before each lesson, the elders were supposed to come early, to kneel with us as we asked for the help of the Spirit. Also, I was to ask a member to open with prayer and another to close the lessons with prayer.
Finally we were ready to arrange the meetings with our friends. We hoped we could get two groups of four or five investigators each if we invited all forty on our list. One group would meet on Friday evenings and the other on Saturday evenings.
When we first used this approach, we were very surprised. About two-thirds of our friends accepted. After merely asking just sixteen couples on the original list, we had two groups of six investigators each. So together with three or four spouses who were members, the missionaries, and ourselves, each group consisted of about thirteen or fourteen people.
As we hoped, the Spirit of those meetings was very strong. Overwhelmed by the experience, most of the nonmembers were visibly moved.
Usually, one of the elders led the first half of a discussion and the other the second half, encouraging questions throughout. Sometimes the investigators were asked if it might be possible to wait until next week for an answer to a question. They always agreed, and we always returned to the question as promised. Answers to most questions, however, were generally immediate, competent, and inspired. The investigators almost always were satisfied.
We were careful and patient in answering questions, usually from the Bible, but sometimes from latter-day scriptures. The Spirit converts, but people also need to be convinced intellectually that the Church is true. This they can do by hearing the lessons, by reading the Book of Mormon and other Church literature, and by having their questions answered. As they do this with sincere intent, they usually are much more able to distinguish between purely emotional reaction and the influence of the spirit. Consequently, we never tired of answering their questions and always tried to do so competently, clearly, and under the influence of the Spirit. Each question was answered, but not always immediately. Some questions raised issues the investigators were not ready to discuss yet, and others would have led the discussion away from the main point being stressed. In such instances, we gave the reason why we were postponing the answer and tried to give the investigator an idea when it would be answered.
When all of the lessons were completed, we thanked everyone for participating and told them we would be visiting them at their homes. Within two or three days, with the elders, we visited each couple, answered any remaining questions, and then simply invited them to join the Church. To our surprise, in the first group about two-thirds of the investigators accepted the invitation.

I teach at the same school my daughters attend. Every day we have to hurry off together at 6:00 a.m. When we arrive, I go to my classroom and they go to their classrooms.
After school, we hurry home, eat, and rush off to other activities, such as Young Women and music lessons. My husband is the elders quorum president, so he’s also very busy.
I began to feel that our family was too busy. We didn’t have time for personal, intimate discussions about the gospel, except on Sundays.
I want my daughters to develop strong testimonies of the Savior Jesus Christ and His gospel—starting now, while they’re young. As their parents, my husband and I know that that responsibility belongs to us (see Doctrine and Covenants 68:25). I decided to pray about it.
“Besides holding family home evening and taking our daughters to church,” I asked Heavenly Father, “what more can we do?”
The answer I received was to read the scriptures in the morning and use music. So, on the way to school each morning in our van, I began playing hymns and other appropriate music. Then, for a few minutes after we arrived at school, we started reading the scriptures together, discussing the gospel, and praying before heading to class. Even my five-year-old wanted to participate.
It’s a beautiful thing to see my children read and testify of Jesus Christ and to see my older daughters, 9 and 12, willingly help the youngest one, 5, to read the scriptures.

When I was baptized at 18 years old, I knew that living the gospel of Jesus Christ would become a way of life. I felt the importance and seriousness of living gospel standards, and doing so has blessed my life in many ways.
One gospel principle that is really important to me is honoring the Sabbath day. It allows me to stop my daily routine and to focus my thoughts on my Heavenly Father.
I work in a tourism business in Costa Rica. In this industry, it is typical for people to work on Sundays. When I started my job, I identified myself as a member of the Church. I requested—and was granted—Sundays off.
Because of my unusual request, my colleagues and my boss were curious. They asked me a lot of questions about my beliefs. Over time I had opportunities to explain to them some of the things that Latter-day Saints believe. In many cases my explanations of gospel doctrines earned their respect.
One day my boss gathered our staff for an announcement. “I need you all to come to work for the next two weekends,” he said. My heart sank. I knew this meant I would need to work on Sunday.
But then my boss continued: “That is, everyone except Juan Carlos. We know that nothing is going to make him come to work on Sunday.”
I was relieved. My boss had honored my request! Because of my behavior and the standards I exhibited at work, I had gained his respect. As a result he was willing to honor my beliefs.
I know that as we make gospel standards a priority in our lives, the Lord will bless us.

William leaned his rake against the side of the house and plopped down on the grass. Raking the leaves was hard work, but he and his sisters, Chloé and Amelia, were finally done. Way up above the Alps mountains he could see a plane fly by. He wondered where it was going.
William loved his little town near the French-Swiss border. People from all over the world visited here. He thought about the places he wanted to go, the people he could meet, and the adventures he might have someday.
He was startled out of his daydream by whistling and the crunch, crunch, crunch of footsteps in the yard next door.
“Pat must be getting ready to rake his leaves,” William thought. “I’m sure glad we’re done with ours.”
“But if raking leaves was hard for three people, it must be really hard for one!” William thought. Pat’s wife, Pam, had just had surgery, so Pat would have to rake his leaves by himself.
Mum always said, “When we’re helping, we’re happy!” and William thought that probably meant helping Pat, even though they were already tired from raking their own leaves.
William looked over at Chloé and Amelia, who were building tiny twig houses in the grass. “Should we go help Pat?” he asked. “We can help him finish pretty fast.”
Chloé and Amelia agreed and followed William.
“Want some help?” Amelia asked as they walked around the bushes into Pat’s yard.
“I sure would! But you kids have been raking all afternoon. I bet you’re tired.”
“That’s OK,” William said. “We want to help. After all, when we’re helping, we’re happy!”
As they worked, Pat told the kids fun stories from his life. Pat was from India, but he had lived all over Asia and Africa.
After the leaves were bagged, William looked over and noticed the apples scattered around the two tall apple trees in Pat’s yard. Their work wasn’t quite done yet. William stooped down and started gathering apples. He sorted the rotten ones from the good ones as he went along. Chloé and Amelia ran over to put the apples in piles.
Pat rolled his old green wheelbarrow out from the shed. “Let’s put the rotten ones in here. Then you can take the good ones home with you.”
“That’s OK, Pat. We don’t need to take your apples,” William said.
“I want to give them to you,” Pat said. “After all, when I’m giving, I’m happy!”
That night during dinner, the children told Mum and Dad how much fun they’d had helping Pat and hearing his stories.
Suddenly William had an idea. “I know what we can do with the apples he gave us!” He jumped up and grabbed a copy of the Liahona from the bookshelf. “I think Pat and Pam would really like this,” William said, turning to a recipe for apple cake. “And like Pat said today, when we’re giving, we’re happy!”
“Let’s make a cake for our other neighbors too!” Chloé said.
William grinned. He thought about all the people he could meet and the exciting stories he could hear. And all that through just a bit of kindness. And a bit of cake.

When young John was about two, his family moved from storm-lashed Froya, the outermost island off the coast of Norway, to Namos on the mainland. Their new home was about 80 miles (128 km) north of Trondheim, the ancient capital of Norway. Here John’s father could expand his opportunities as a schoolmaster. A second son, Aasbjorn (later Osborne) Johannes Peder Widtsoe, was born in Namos. But within weeks of this birth, disaster struck—the boys’ father died suddenly, the result of a knotted intestine.
Anna and her two boys moved to Trondheim to be near her in-laws. However, she maintained her independence by living in a rented apartment, where she eked out a living as a seamstress. Anna was anxious that John should follow in his father’s footsteps, and one of her husband’s schoolfellows offered to tutor the bright seven-year-old, launching the lad on his astounding career as a scholar/teacher.