Gospel Story Finder

Isabelle was happy that it was spring. She liked to listen to the birds. She liked to play in the green grass.
Isabelle was happy it was time for Easter. She knew Easter was a special day. On Easter we celebrate when Jesus came back to life.
In Primary, Sister Martin gave crayons to all the children in class. She asked them to draw the greatest gift Heavenly Father gave them.
Michael drew a picture of his family.
Eliza drew a picture of her friend.
Anthony drew a picture of his house.
Isabelle looked at the drawings. They were very good.
Isabelle thought about what she should draw. She was happy to have a family. She was happy to have friends. She was happy to have a house.
Then Isabelle thought about another gift that Heavenly Father gave all people. He gave everyone the gift of a Savior. Isabelle picked up her crayons. She drew a picture of Jesus Christ.
Sister Martin asked Isabelle what she drew.
“I drew a picture of Jesus,” Isabelle said. “He is the greatest gift.”

Since the very beginning, much of the strength of the Church has come through the service, faith, and devotion of the faithful women of the Church. As the noble daughters of God, the sisters over the years have stood firm and true in the spirit of faith. My wife’s mother, Elizabeth Hamilton Wright, had seven children and was pregnant with her eighth child when her husband was called on a mission. She was left with the responsibility of the family and, with the help of one hired man, seeing that 16 cows were milked every day, that the garden was planted and harvested, the berries picked, and the family taken care of. She was a woman of deep faith and love of the Lord. Her faith never wavered all of the days of her life. It gave her strength to do the work which the Savior had for her to do and to meet the needs of her growing family even in her husband’s absence.

A young couple I know bought 40 acres of raw land. They were going to raise peaches. They had leveled the land, planted the trees, and then weeded and irrigated and watched until the time had come when they’d have a harvest. This particular spring the orchard was a sea of blossoms, and it looked as though they were going to have a bounteous harvest. Then without warning a frost wiped out practically the entire crop overnight. Well, young John didn’t go to church the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday, nor the next. Finally his good bishop came out to see what was wrong.
He found John in the field and said, “John, we haven’t seen you in church for several weeks. Is anything wrong?” John said, “I’m not coming anymore. Do you think I can worship a God who would let this happen to me?”
Of course, the bishop felt sorrowful and he expressed his feelings to John. And as he looked down at the ground for a moment, he said, “John, I’m sure the Lord knows that you can’t produce the best peaches with frost. But I’m also sure He knows that He can’t produce the best people without frost, and the Lord is interested in producing people, not peaches.” Well, John went to church the next Sunday, and another year a harvest came. He learned a valuable lesson that helped keep him active in the Church all his life.

Anne was a baby then; Matt, Mike, and I were six, three, and five. We three older children were playing in the boys’ bedroom when we decided to go sailing.
Three empty dresser drawers made great boats, but the carpet around them looked like a still blue lake, and we wanted a stormy ocean. Soon the floor was covered with toy, clothing, and blanket waves.
We were deep-sea fishing when we noticed Dad standing in the doorway.
He didn’t say a word. It was our worst mess ever, and he didn’t say a word. He simply started to help us put our waves away.

As we’ve tried to implement our plan, we are learning that inviting the influence of the Holy Ghost into our family discussions will take practice and time. But we refuse to get discouraged or give up. Just the other night, our 10-year-old daughter, prompted by a verse from the Book of Mormon we were reading as a family, asked in sweet sincerity, “How do you learn by the Holy Ghost?” I smiled. I knew we were getting somewhere!

He was always tall. “By the time I was 13, I was already 182 cm (six feet). But my real growth spurt didn’t begin until my sophomore year in high school.” He reached his full height by his senior year, and, as with most tall kids, it was assumed he would play basketball. That was not to be.
“I never really liked basketball,” he noted. “The other kids and the coaches always kind of made fun of me, telling me I couldn’t jump.”
His mother urged him, instead, to try a local recreation league volleyball team. “I had never had so much fun in any sport before,” Chambers says. “I was hooked! Even though I wasn’t very good, I went home and told Mom that volleyball was the sport for me!”
Great club coaching helped him find his footing in the game, and because of his prodigious height, they made him a middle blocker. Finally, the burden of being tall began to pay-off. After a season of club volleyball, he was anxious to join his high school team and test his new skills. But disaster struck in his very first scrimmage.
“I jumped and extended myself to try and block a ball, and when I came down, I landed on the foot of the guy on the other side of the net and broke my ankle,” Chambers recounted. “I had to wear a boot everywhere after that and I didn’t get to play at all my freshman season.”
“It was frustrating to have made progress in this new sport I really liked, then lose that whole season.”

I descended at my own pace. Five feet (1.5 m) … I felt a current jostle me. Now ten feet. Suddenly it became dark. I felt my breaths shorten. This freezing, murky ocean was nothing like the pool we had practiced in. Scared and claustrophobic, I darted up to the water’s surface.
“What happened?” the instructor’s assistant asked me. Tears welled up inside my mask. I was in the middle of my scuba-diving certification exam, performing a 30-foot (9 m) descent, one of the necessary skills to pass the exam. The assistant saw my panic and assured me I would be OK. He was encouraging, yet not prodding. At one point he told me, “You don’t have to do this.” It was then I realized that I wanted to.
I realized that although this was hard for me, I wanted to accomplish it; I wanted to gain my certification. So I bridled my fear and completed the remaining skills with the class to pass the exam. It was hard, but with some encouragement I was able to do it.

It seemed everyone wanted a summer home in the humid coastal zone of Ilo, Peru, so my missionary companion and I always had plenty of doors to knock. Much of our door contacting occurred within rows of identical three-story, 12-apartment buildings. It was easy to get lost.
One night we planned to visit a woman we had met. We got her floor and apartment number right, but we mistakenly went to the apartment complex one over from hers. We knocked, and when a young man opened the door, we realized we had gone to the wrong apartment.
But before we could explain our mistake, the young man said, “Ah, elders, good to see you. My grandma went to the store, but she should be back any minute. Come on in.”
With confused looks, we entered and sat on the couch. When the grandmother arrived a few minutes later, she was thrilled to see us.
Still confused, we asked how she knew the missionaries. She explained that they had taught her two years before, but when her schedule became too busy, they had stopped visiting.
The particular night we came, she was feeling worthless. The whole week had been hard for her. She was overworked and tired and felt that nothing she did really mattered. Then we showed up, brightened her day, and gave her a second chance at the purpose-giving gospel of Jesus Christ. Our unexpected visit was God’s sign to her that she mattered to Him.
We had gone to the wrong apartment, but we were exactly where we needed to be. Losing our way brought us to find this daughter of God again. Through our imperfection in navigating, God directed us to her.
After we left, we found the woman we had planned to visit. She didn’t even notice we were late. I think about what would have happened had we found the right apartment from the start.
Had we gone where we had planned, we would have missed a much-needed chance to share the Savior’s love. But God worked through our imperfection to point us where He needed us to tread. I’m grateful He let us become lost so that we could find the one who needed direction.

Following that initial fast and testimony meeting experience, I looked forward to each subsequent fast and testimony meeting. I would fast and take the opportunity to bear my testimony. Since English is my second language, I had difficulties expressing myself during that period of my life. Therefore, I would write my testimony on a piece of paper and read it. After a few months of writing and reading my testimony, my branch president called me into his office and said that a testimony is a spiritual witness given by the Holy Ghost. He admonished me to prepare myself spiritually and to listen to the impressions I received. He asked that I be prepared to share those impressions rather than writing down my testimony as a talk. He reminded me of my first day at church when I stood and shared my testimony. He encouraged me to have faith and bear my testimony from the heart without written notes.
I accepted this challenging invitation. What I did not say to my branch president was how difficult it was for me to compose sentences, let alone express myself in the English language.
At the fast and testimony meeting following the counsel from my branch president, I stood up and walked to the pulpit. I stood at the pulpit without saying anything for what I thought was a full minute. I couldn’t remember the words I had memorized. Since I was told not to read my testimony, I wrote it down and spent the whole week committing it to memory. Finally, when I could speak, I spoke in a haphazard way. The words were meaningless in my own mind. The congregation just looked at me in a very strange way. I felt terrible.
It took me a few months to gain enough confidence to be able to bear my testimony again. After my unfortunate experience, I resolved not to bear my testimony. I did not want to embarrass myself. I would sit and listen to others sharing their testimonies. I watched and listened to each brother and sister carefully. I felt their spiritual witness of the Savior Jesus Christ, the reality of the first vision, and that Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to the boy Joseph. I was inspired by each affirmation that the Book of Mormon teaches and testifies of Jesus Christ and that it is indeed another testament of Christ.
On each succeeding fast and testimony meeting, my motivation welled up from a new and more compelling source. My soul was hungry for spiritual nourishment. I was like a starving man. I couldn’t get enough. The sincere expression and the words were mellow and soothing to me—more than that, they rang true. Words cannot express my feelings. It was as if I had experienced such a feeling of ecstasy somewhere before in a dim past. I felt the Lord’s love for me and a desire to want to be better.
I fought the urge to share my testimony each fast and testimony meeting. Then one Sunday as the meeting was about to end, I couldn’t hold back. I stood where I was and declared my own witness of the Savior. I declared “the things which [I] have heard, and verily believe, and know to be true” (Doctrine & Covenants 80:4). I knew then as I now know, that bearing a testimony is a blessing not only to me, but to those who are touched by it. A year after the Church was organized in these latter days, the prophet Joseph Smith met several elders returning from Independence on the bank of the Missouri River. Joseph received this revelation regarding the importance of bearing one’s testimony: “Nevertheless, ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you” (Doctrine & Covenants 62:3).
Since that Sunday, whenever I have an opportunity, I bear testimony of the Savior and His Atonement. I bear testimony of how the Book of Mormon has changed my life through its prophecies and teachings. I felt then, just as I do today; peace, comfort and a consistent desire to change for the better. I feel compelled to share my testimony as a service to others.

As a deacon I felt keenly that need. I lived in a tiny branch of the Church in New Jersey, on the East Coast of the United States. I was the only deacon in the branch—not just the only one attending but the only one on the records. My older brother, Ted, was the only teacher. He is here tonight.
While I was still a deacon, my family moved to Utah. There I found three wonderful things in place to speed my growth in the priesthood. The first was a president who knew how to sit in council with the members of his quorum. The second was great faith in Jesus Christ that led to the great love we have heard of—love for each other. And the third was a shared conviction that our overarching priesthood purpose was to labor for the salvation of men.
It wasn’t the well-established ward that made the difference. What was there in that ward could be anywhere, in whatever unit of the Church you are in.
These three things may be so much a part of your experience in the priesthood that you hardly notice them. For others, you may not feel the need for growth, so these helps may be invisible to you. Either way, I pray that the Spirit will help me make them clear and attractive to you.
My purpose in speaking of these three aids to growing in the priesthood is to urge you to value them and to use them. If you do, your service will be transformed for the better. And if it is magnified, your priesthood service will bless Heavenly Father’s children more than you can now imagine is possible.
I found the first when I was welcomed into a priests quorum, with the bishop as our president. That may seem a small, unremarkable thing to you, but it gave me a sense of power in the priesthood that has changed my service in the priesthood ever since. It began by the way he led us.
As near as I could tell, he treated the opinions of young priests as if we were the wisest men in the world. He waited until all who would speak had spoken. He listened. And when he decided what should be done, it seemed to me that the Spirit confirmed the decisions to us and to him.
I realize now I had felt what the scripture means when it says that the president is to sit in council with the members of his quorum. And years later as I was a bishop with my priests quorum, both they and I were taught by what I had learned as a young priest.
Twenty years later as a bishop, I had the opportunity to see the effectiveness of a council not just in the meetinghouse but also in the mountains. During a Saturday activity, a member of our quorum had been lost in the forest overnight. As far as we knew, he was alone and without warm clothes, food, or shelter. We searched for him without success.
My memory is that we prayed together, the priests quorum and I, and I then asked each to speak. I listened intently, and it seemed to me that they did too, to each other. After a while, a feeling of peace settled on us. I felt that our lost quorum member was safe and dry somewhere.
It became clear to me what the quorum was to do and not to do. When the people who found him described the place in the woods where he had gone for safety, I felt that I recognized it. But the larger miracle for me was to see a united priesthood council’s faith in Jesus Christ bringing revelation to the man with the priesthood keys. We all grew that day in the power of the priesthood.
The second key to increased learning is to have love for each other that comes from great faith. I am not sure which comes first, but both always seem to be there whenever there is great and rapid learning in the priesthood. Joseph Smith taught that to us by example.
In the early days of the Church in this dispensation, he received a command from God to build strength in the priesthood. He was directed to create schools for priesthood holders. The Lord set the requirement that there be love for each other among those who were to teach and to be taught. Here are the words of the Lord about creating a place of priesthood learning and what it was like for those who were to learn in it:
“Organize yourselves; … establish a house … of learning, … a house of order. …
“Appoint among yourselves a teacher, and let not all be spokesmen at once; but let one speak at a time and let all listen unto his sayings, that when all have spoken that all may be edified of all, and that every man may have an equal privilege.”
The Lord is describing what we have already seen is the strength of a priesthood council or a class to bring revelation by the Spirit. Revelation is the only way we can come to know that Jesus is the Christ. That great faith is the first rung on the ladder we climb to learn the principles of the gospel.
In section 88 of the Doctrine and Covenants, in verses 123 and 124, the Lord stressed love for each other and not finding fault with each other. Each gained entry into the priesthood school established by the Lord’s prophet by making a covenant with uplifted hands to be a “friend and brother … in the bonds of love.”
Now, we do not follow that practice today, but wherever I have seen remarkable learning in the priesthood, there are those bonds of love. Again I have seen it as both a cause and an effect of learning gospel truths. Love invites the Holy Ghost to be present to confirm truth. And the joy of learning divine truths creates love in the hearts of people who shared the experience of learning.
The reverse is true as well. Discord or jealousy inhibits the ability of the Holy Ghost to teach us and inhibits our ability to receive light and truth. And the feelings of disappointment that invariably follow are the seeds of greater discord and faultfinding among those who expected a learning experience that did not come.
The priesthood holders who learn well together always seem to me to have great peacemakers among them. You see peacemaking in priesthood classes and in councils. It is the gift to help people find common ground when others are seeing differences. It is the peacemaker’s gift to help people see that what someone else said was a contribution rather than a correction.
With enough of the pure love of Christ and a desire to be peacemakers, unity is possible in priesthood councils and in classes. It takes patience and humility, but I have seen it happen even when issues are difficult and the people in councils or classes come from vastly different backgrounds.
It is possible to rise to the lofty standard set by the Lord for priesthood holders in making decisions in quorums. It is possible when there is great faith and love and the absence of contention. Here is the Lord’s requirement for His endorsement of our decisions: “And every decision made by either of these quorums must be by the unanimous voice of the same; that is, every member in each quorum must be agreed to its decisions, in order to make their decisions of the same power or validity one with the other.”
The third aid to learning in the priesthood comes with a shared conviction about why the Lord blesses and trusts us to hold and to exercise His priesthood. It is to labor for the salvation of men. This shared conviction brings unity in quorums. We can begin to learn about this from the scriptural account of how we spirit sons were prepared before birth for this rare honor of holding the priesthood.
Concerning those given great priesthood trust in this life, the Lord revealed that “even before they were born, they, with many others, received their first lessons in the world of spirits and were prepared to come forth in the due time of the Lord to labor in his vineyard for the salvation of the souls of men.”
In the priesthood we share the sacred duty to labor for the souls of men. We must do more than learn that this is our duty. It must go down into our hearts so deeply that neither the many demands on our efforts in the bloom of life nor the trials that come with age can turn us from that purpose.
Not long ago I visited a high priest in his home. He is no longer able to come to our quorum meetings. He lives alone. His beautiful wife died, and his children live far away from him. Time and illness limit his ability to serve. He still lifts weights to keep what he can of his once-powerful strength.
When I walked into his home, he stood up from his walker to greet me. He invited me to sit in a chair near him. We talked of our happy associations in the priesthood.
Then with great intensity he said to me, “Why am I still living? Why am I still here? I can’t do anything.”
I told him that he was doing something for me. He was lifting me with his faith and his love. Even in our short visit, he made me want to be better. His example of determination to do something that mattered had inspired me to try harder to serve others and the Lord.
But from the sad sound of his voice and the look in his eyes, I could sense that I had not answered his questions. He still wondered why God let him live with such limitations on his ability to serve.
In his usual generous way, he thanked me for coming to see him. As I got up to leave, the nurse who comes to his home a few hours every day walked in from another room. During our private conversation, he had told me a little about her. He said she was wonderful. She had lived among the Latter-day Saints most of her life but was still not a member.
She walked up to show me to the door. He motioned toward her and said with a smile, “See, I can’t seem to do anything. I have been trying to get her baptized into the Church, but it hasn’t worked.” She smiled back at him and at me. I walked outside and turned toward my home nearby.
I realized then that the answers to his questions were planted long ago in his heart. That valiant high priest was trying to do his duty, taught to him through decades in the priesthood.
He knew that the only way that young woman could have the blessing of salvation through the gospel of Jesus Christ was to make a covenant by being baptized. He had been taught according to the covenants by every president of every quorum from the deacons to the high priests.
He remembered and felt his own oath and covenant in the priesthood. He was still keeping it.
He was a witness and a missionary for the Savior wherever life would take him. It was already in his heart. The desire of his heart was that her heart could be changed through the Atonement of Jesus Christ by keeping sacred covenants.
His time in the school of the priesthood in this life will be relatively brief compared to eternity. But even in that short span, he has mastered the eternal curriculum. He will carry with him, wherever the Lord will call, priesthood lessons of eternal worth.
Not only should you be eager to learn your priesthood lessons in this life, but you should be optimistic about what is possible. A few of us may limit in our minds our possibilities to learn what the Lord sets before us in His service.
One young man left his little Welsh village in the early 1840s, heard the Apostles of God, and came into the kingdom of God on earth. He sailed with the Saints to America and drove a wagon west across the plains. He was in the next company after Brigham Young coming into this valley. His priesthood service included clearing and breaking ground for a farm.
He sold the farm for pennies on the dollar to go on a mission for the Lord in the deserts of what is now Nevada to take care of sheep. He was called from that to another mission across the ocean in the very village he had left in his poverty to follow the Lord.
Through it all, he found a way to learn with his priesthood brethren. Bold missionary that he was, he walked down the lane in Wales to the summer estate of a man who was four times the prime minister of England to offer him the gospel of Jesus Christ.
The great man let him into his mansion. He was a graduate of Eton College and of Oxford University. The missionary talked with him about the origins of man, the central role of Jesus Christ in the history of the world, and even the fate of nations.
At the end of their discussion, the host declined the offer to accept baptism. But as they parted, that leader of one of the great empires of the world asked the humble missionary, “Where did you get your education?” His answer: “In the priesthood of God.”
You may have thought at one time how much better your life would have been if only you had been admitted to study in some fine school. I pray that you will see the greatness of God’s love for you and of the opportunity He has given you to enter His priesthood school.
If you will be diligent and obedient in the priesthood, treasures of spiritual knowledge will be poured out upon you. You will grow in your power to resist evil and to proclaim the truth that leads to salvation. You will find joy in the happiness of those you lead toward exaltation. Your family will become a place of learning.
I testify that the keys of the priesthood have been restored. President Thomas S. Monson holds and exercises those keys. God lives and knows you perfectly. Jesus Christ lives. You were chosen for the honor of holding the sacred priesthood. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One day, a few months after my baptism, I heard some members criticizing each other in church. I was very disappointed. I went home and told my father that maybe I should not go to church anymore. It was difficult to see members criticize others like that. After listening, my father taught me that the gospel had been restored and it is perfect but members are not yet, neither himself nor me. He firmly said, “Do not lose your faith because of the people around you, but build a strong relationship with Jesus Christ. Don’t look around, look up!”
Look up to Jesus Christ—the wise advice of my father—strengthens my faith whenever I face challenges in life. He taught me how to apply the teachings of Christ, as in these words: “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”4

by Casey Null
Sharon Dangl, 16, of Huntington Beach, California, has always been interested in police work. One day her mother walked into the local police station to report a stolen wallet and walked out with an application for the Police Explorers, which she promptly gave to Sharon.
After passing the rigorous requirements and an oral review, Sharon attended the Police Academy at Camp Pendleton, California. She was trained to search for clues and has assisted police teams working on major crimes in her area. She feels that her experience with the Police Explorers has helped her consider what kind of career she would like to pursue in the future.
Sharon is a member of the Huntington Beach Sixth Ward, Huntington Beach California North Stake.

On the eve of our journey, the whole group met for a special family home evening at the meetinghouse. Afterwards, those who lived far away remained there all night to be on time for the bus, which came at 5:30 the following morning. Leaving early would give us enough time to get through Chilean customs.
As we traveled, everyone was filled with the spirit of love and brotherhood. Food and juice were divided generously. Each family had stories and testimonies to share, and there were many sessions of hymn singing. We looked out the windows often to admire the magnificent Andes mountains. We passed picturesque towns as our winding road traversed snowy peaks, ravines, and streams. Who could doubt that a divine hand had created this beautiful world?
We crossed the border into Chile, and before long we were making our approach to the temple. How our hearts leaped with joy when we saw the angel Moroni on the temple’s spire! We could almost hear the call of his trumpet. The temple workers were there to welcome us. They had arranged places for us to stay in homes of Chilean Saints, and we immediately went to the homes, bathed, and made ready for the special temple session that had been prepared.
Next came the sublime moment when we actually entered the house of the Lord. It was truly indescribable. Mere words can never express the spirit of that holy place. One must experience it—and that can happen only when a temple recommend is presented with a humble and contrite heart. Only then can the initiatory ordinances, endowments, marriages, family sealings, and baptisms for the dead be performed with the proper spirit.
Now we understood those who had gone before us. They had been right when they said that once we were inside the temple, we would never want to leave. Nevertheless, that wonderful day eventually came to an end. We went to the homes of our Chilean hosts, eager to return in the morning.

Sometimes we need strength because life is hard for us. Christy wanted to memorize the Articles of Faith and earn her Gospel in Action award. It was extra hard for her because she has a disease called cerebral palsy. But Christy had faith the Lord would help her. She listened to the tapes of the Articles of Faith songs over and over. She practiced hard, learned to sing all the songs, and earned her award. Her family and friends were blessed by her good example.

“Hurry, Cathy,” Anne called over her shoulder to her sister as they ran along the road.
“I am hurrying!” Cathy yelled back, barely three steps behind her. Laughing, they turned into the parking lot of Mr. Parkins’s Plant Place. Breathing hard, they burst through the front door into the rich smell of potting soil and damp, growing things.
“Well, hello, girls.” Mr. Parkins smiled as he looked up. “Did you come to work?”
“Yes, please,” Anne said. “Today and tomorrow too, if you need us. We want to earn money to buy a present for Mum.”
In the early spring Mr. Parkins often paid the neighborhood children to help transplant seedlings. “Where is your cousin Emmy today?” he asked.
“She went to help Granny,” Cathy said.
“Well, come along.” Mr. Parkins led them into one of the long, low greenhouses. “We’re working on the petunias right now, and I need all the help I can get.”
In the greenhouse, long tables were covered with young petunia plants. Allen, Tom, and Lance were already working and laughing loudly.
Mr. Parkins stayed long enough to make sure the girls knew what to do and to check on the boys’ work. “I’m sure glad the five of you could come,” he said as he left.
The potting soil was crumbly and moist on Anne’s fingers as she carefully separated the plants. Cathy worked beside her, filling each of the small containers with soil and planting the seedlings. For a while no one said anything.
Then Lance elbowed Allen and whispered something in his ear. Allen laughed loudly, then whispered in Tom’s ear. Tom snorted. Then Lance stopped whispering and started saying nasty things out loud.
Anne’s fingers started to shake, and she felt slightly sick. “I wish Emmy was here,” she whispered to Cathy.
Cathy nodded. “So do I.” Emmy would know what to do. She was as brave as Nephi.
But Anne wasn’t Emmy, and she didn’t know what to do. She was afraid if she asked the boys to stop, they would just get worse. Now they were using words Anne knew were not right.
She looked over at Cathy. Cathy’s lips were pressed tightly together, and she was about to cry.
“Shall we leave?” Anne whispered.
“But I want to buy something nice for Mum,” Cathy said quietly.
“Me too,” Anne said. “Besides, Mr. Parkins said he needs all the help he can get.”
Cathy nodded and blinked as two tears slid down her cheeks. She hid her eyes so Lance, Allen, and Tom wouldn’t know she was crying.
Anne moved closer to her. She was angry now. If only Emmy was here! she thought. If only I knew what to do!
Suddenly she had an idea. Softly she started humming her favorite hymn. When Cathy heard the first few notes, she looked up at Anne in surprise. Then she smiled. By the end of the hymn, they were humming softly together.
The boys were still making ugly jokes, but Anne didn’t feel angry anymore. She and Cathy hummed “I Am a Child of God” a little louder, and by the end of that song, Lance was quieter. Anne, feeling braver, gave him a big smile as she started singing a Primary song. Cathy joined in, and their voices echoed sweetly through the greenhouse, while the boys gradually became silent.
Anne and Cathy were still singing Primary songs when Mr. Parkins poked his head in an hour later. “Sounds good, girls.” He came over to the long table. “Your work is good, too. But it’s almost dark—you’d better get home. I’m glad you’ll be coming back tomorrow—I can always use good, cheerful help.”
Rubbing the soil off their fingers, the children followed Mr. Parkins out of the greenhouse and into the early evening light. Lance, Allen, and Tom scooted past Anne and Cathy.
“Babies,” Lance hissed as he ran past. Anne just smiled at him again.
The air was cooler now, but the girls didn’t feel cold.
“I feel warm and happy,” Cathy said, looking up at the pink sky.
“Me, too,” Anne said. “Race you home!”

On another occasion, I met a young man 14 years of age who was a superb tennis player. He had won all of the tennis tournaments in his class in an area that included several states. He had reached the semifinals of a very important tournament that was to take place in a distant city. As he arrived there, he found that he was scheduled to participate on Sunday. He went to the officials and told them he didn’t play tennis on Sunday; whereupon he was informed that if he wanted to play in this tournament, he would play on Sunday. He again indicated he would not play on Sunday, knowing that not to do so would mean he would forfeit the match. As it happened, the matches were rained out on Sunday. He played on Monday and won.

He then went by bus with the other finalists to another major city to compete in the championship matches that covered the entire Atlantic seaboard of the United States. They arrived on Sunday. The coach instructed the contestants to get out on the tennis courts and practice immediately upon arrival. This young man did not go to the tennis courts. The coach asked him why he wasn’t practicing. He said, “I don’t play tennis on Sunday.” The coach asked him why. His response was, “I am a Mormon.”

I suppose he wanted to win the championship for his age group more than anything else, and yet he himself had made the decision that keeping the Sabbath day holy was more important than being a champion in tennis. You see, he had found himself and had the courage and integrity to live his life according to the principles he had been taught, and he had made his decision regardless of social pressures.

But their peace was short-lived. Her little boy was less than six years old when a knock came at night on her window and a man said, “Sister Smith, your husband has been killed!”
Joseph F. never forgot his mother’s weeping through the night.

Her world was shattered. She was on her own now with a large family to care for. In the summer of 1846, they bade their comfortable home good-bye and rode a flatboat across the Mississippi. Taking matters into her own hands, she was able to trade, borrow, and barter for ox teams and wagons.
While living in Winter Quarters, she and her brother went down the Missouri River to purchase provisions and clothing. They had two wagons, each having two yoke of oxen. Camping for the night, they discovered in the morning that their two best oxen were gone. Young Joseph and his uncle spent the entire morning looking for the lost animals. They found nothing. Disheartened, he returned to tell his mother. Their situation was desperate, terribly so. As he approached, he saw her on her knees praying fervently, speaking with the Lord about their problem. When she arose to her feet, there was a smile on her face. She told her son and her brother to get their breakfast and she would look around. Following a little stream of water, and disregarding the words of a man who was in the area, she went directly along the bank of the river.
Pausing, she called to her son and brother. She pointed to their oxen, which had been tied to a clump of willows growing in the bottom of a deep gulch. The thief, who had tried to misdirect her, lost his prize and they were saved.
Mary’s faith imprinted itself in her son’s boyish heart. He never forgot it. He never doubted her closeness to the Lord.
All of you are familiar with her experience when one of her oxen, exhausted and worn, lay down to die while they were en route to these valleys in the West. In a mixture of utter desperation and simple faith, she secured consecrated oil and asked her brother and an associate to administer to the ox. They did so. It rose to its feet with a renewal of strength and carried them for the remainder of their long journey.
Such was the faith, sweet and simple and beautiful, which graced this woman’s life. She walked in the light of the Lord. She lived by that light. It guided her in all of her actions. It became the lodestar of her life. She exemplified the tremendous faith of the women of this Church—the women of the Relief Society, who today on a thousand fronts carry on the dedicated work of this remarkable organization.

On one occasion, I spent a few minutes with a young man who had left high school and entered the military. Now he was trying to decide what to do with his life. I encouraged him to return to finish high school.

I did not provide him with money; the Church had no school for him, not even a scholarship. In those few minutes, I simply taught him that self-reliance which is such a part of our way of life. Even though over age, he returned to finish high school, and now he provides for his family and encourages his children in their search for truth.

A week after Bishop Stone was sustained as the new bishop, his executive secretary arranged for an interview with Kevin Blake. Kevin was about to turn 14 and needed to be interviewed about his worthiness to be ordained a teacher.
Kevin waited after church to see the bishop. He didn’t expect it would take long, so Kevin asked his family to wait for him.
“Hello, Kevin,” said the bishop. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to be interviewed to be ordained a teacher,” Kevin said.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Let me ask you a question. Do you know where we find the duties of the office of a teacher?” Bishop Stone asked.
“I don’t know. In the teachers’ manual, I guess.”
The bishop smiled and opened his scriptures and handed them to Kevin. “Read Doctrine and Covenants 20:53–54 [D&C 20:53–54], please.”
Kevin began to read. “The teacher’s duty is to watch over the church always and be with them and strengthen them; And see that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking.”
“You can stop there,” Bishop Stone said. “That seems like a tough job to me. How are you going to do it?”
Kevin sighed. “Well, I know that teachers go home teaching.”
“That’s true; they do. Good answer. That does help us to watch over the Church, and be with them and strengthen them. But let me ask you another question. As a teacher, how are you going to see ‘that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking’?”
Kevin was stumped. “I don’t know.”
The bishop smiled. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know either. But we both need to find out. I’d appreciate it if you’d think about it this week and then come back next Sunday and give me some of your ideas.”
On the way home, Kevin’s mother asked him how the interview had gone.
“I can’t believe it. I have to go back next week.”
His 12-year-old sister, Emily, picked up on that. “I’m not surprised,” she said.
Kevin rolled his eyes.
“Would you like to talk to your mother and me in private?” asked his dad.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. The bishop just asked me to come up with a plan about how I was going to see that there’s no backbiting or evil speaking in our ward.”
Just before they ate, Kevin’s friend Todd called to tell him about the teachers quorum activity for the week.
“I’m not a teacher yet,” said Kevin.
“No, but you will be, right?”
“I have to go back and see the bishop next week.”
There was a long pause and then Todd said, “Oh.” Todd made a quick excuse that he had to eat and hung up.
Kevin wasn’t very hungry, but he ate a little and excused himself and went to his room. A few minutes later his dad knocked on his door and asked if he could come in. He pulled a chair up to Kevin’s bed and said, “Kevin, I don’t think the bishop is down on you. I think he is just asking for your help.”
“I don’t see how I can help him,” Kevin said.
“Well, the Lord did give teachers in the Aaronic Priesthood the responsibility to see that there’s no backbiting or evil speaking. Maybe the bishop is just honoring the responsibility you have as a teacher. We have a good ward, but we’re not perfect. There is some backbiting. Not much, but some. Why not honor the bishop’s request and see what ideas you can come up with?”
Kevin reluctantly agreed to do what he could.
At first he couldn’t think of anything, but then things started to change. On Monday after family home evening, he swallowed his pride and went to Emily. “Do you ever see any backbiting or evil speaking in our ward?”
“Sometimes.”
“What causes it?”
“Not every girl comes from a family with enough money for expensive clothes. That can cause people to talk.”
“I don’t see how I can stop that,” said Kevin.
“I try to stop it,” Emily said. “Whenever anyone starts saying bad things about a girl, I try to say good things. You could do that too.”
“That’s not going to stop it.”
“It will if more people look for the positive instead of the negative.”
Kevin felt a twinge of conscience. One of the boys in the deacons quorum was Justin Evanston. Everyone else in the quorum liked sports and camping, except Justin. The boys sometimes made fun of Justin, especially when he tried to play basketball. He was uncoordinated and awkward. Kevin himself had made fun of Justin. He felt bad about it now.
At school on Monday, Kevin saw Jon Dunford in the halls. Jon lived in their ward but didn’t come anymore. He’d gotten into drugs in the seventh grade and a few months later was arrested. He spent six months in a juvenile correction facility and then came back to live at home. Kevin had seen him the first day after he got back. “I’m going to start back to church,” Jon had said.
“Right,” Kevin had replied sarcastically.
Jon came to church once but never returned. Eventually he went back to his old friends. Kevin figured it was only a matter of time before Jon would be put away again.
Kevin decided to talk to Jon.
“Jon, that time you came to church after you first got back, what was it like for you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I just want to know.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you,” said Jon, an edge in his voice. “A lot of cold stares, a lot of whispering behind my back, and nobody my age talking to me. A lot of the adults said they were glad I was back, but nobody my age did. Not even you.”
Kevin swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
“When I first came back, I really wanted to change my life,” he sighed. “But it’s too late for that now.”
“Give us another chance,” said Kevin. “Come to church with me next time. I’ll do better.”
Jon looked at Kevin for a long time. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Maybe sometime,” Jon said, starting to walk away.
“What about tomorrow night? We’re going to a TV studio to see how they do the news.”
Jon pursed his lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe I’ll go.”
The next day before school Kevin found Jon in the parking lot behind the school with the guys he partied with. “Is tonight still okay?”
Jon smiled. “I’ve never seen you out here before.”
“What about tonight? We could pick you up a little before seven.”
“That’d be okay.”
When they stopped by later that night, Jon wasn’t home, but Kevin wasn’t discouraged. He’d just have to keep asking until Jon gave in and went with him.
The next Sunday after church, Kevin waited to see the bishop. He no longer felt bad that the bishop had asked him to come back; in fact he was glad. This time, when the bishop asked him what a teacher could do to see that there was no backbiting or evil speaking, Kevin had some things to say.
He could hardly wait to see the bishop.

While I was serving as a deacon, teacher, and priest, we usually had a priesthood lesson about the value of keeping the Word of Wisdom, and almost always a part of that lesson would concern itself with the marvelous story of Creed Hammond. Creed was an excellent runner whose coach tried to get him to drink some wine the night before the national track championship. A few years ago in a stake conference I heard Creed himself tell of that experience, and I was very moved when I caught a detail that I had missed as a boy. President Hammond told of going as a young boy from Springville to Provo with his mother and sister to hear Apostle Reed Smoot speak. That evening Elder Smoot chose as his topic the Word of Wisdom. Returning home, Sister Hammond stopped the buggy, took her son and daughter by the hand, and they made a covenant together that they would never violate the principles contained in the Word of Wisdom. “The night,” Creed said, “when the coach wanted me to drink the wine, I could feel my mother’s hand and my sister’s hand, and, though it was long ago, I could hear my mother’s voice. I could not violate the covenant we had made together.”