Gospel Story Finder

When Dallin H. Oaks was seven years old, his father got very sick. For six months, Dallin’s father stayed in the hospital while doctors tried to help him get better. During this time, Dallin, his mother, and his brother and sister all prayed a lot for his father to get better. Dallin’s father even had many priesthood blessings. Dallin’s family all thought his father would get well.
When the doctors said that his father was going to die, it was hard for everyone to understand why. Had they not had enough faith?
A few days before Dallin’s father died, his mother had a very peaceful feeling. She trusted Heavenly Father’s will. It was still really hard when Dallin’s father died, but she knew things would be all right.
Elder Oaks learned that when we have strong faith in Heavenly Father, we can trust Him. He can help us through any hard time.

Let me conclude by telling you that at eighty years of age my father had to have his leg amputated, and because of that operation the last year of his life was particularly difficult. At his funeral Elder Thomas S. Monson spoke. He said:

I suppose his greatest battle has occurred in the last few months, but he rose to the occasion, and he demonstrated to each one of us that he is the man that we knew him to be. I’ve seen courage many times—in the navy, in life. I’ve read about courage. But I don’t know when I’ve seen courage to excel that of my friend as he overcame the handicap of his lost limb and, to the amazement of the doctors, at his age developed the ability to use his artificial limb in such a way that he could be proud of his accomplishment and could do many things that other people felt he never again would do.

These words and my father’s example have been a rich legacy of continuing strength for me and for my family, far more important than the earthly treasures of wealth or position he probably would like to have left us, but didn’t.

It may seem like Shellee’s got it made. Being deaf hasn’t kept her from dancing, doing well in school, or making friends. However, it has made the gospel harder for her to understand than it is for most teenagers.
Only in the last year has Shellee attended a deaf ward, so until then she had to fend for herself at church. “I never knew how much she was actually getting,” says Janell Frost, one of Shellee’s Primary and Young Women teachers.
Fortunately, Pleasant Grove High School has a deaf seminary teacher whose class Shellee can attend. “Seminary has helped me a lot,” she says. “For example, I didn’t know I would live again after I die. I was so happy because then I knew I would see Grandma again.” Shellee hadn’t been able to grasp that concept until then, although she has always been an active member of the Church.
Reading the scriptures is hard for Shellee because of the vocabulary. She doesn’t recognize words from having heard them in conversation; she has to learn each word individually by looking it up. Words like nevertheless are hard enough to understand when you’ve heard other people use them. How is a deaf person to understand it without help?
Shellee’s seminary teacher is helping to solve this problem with drawings. She has her students draw pictures in their scriptures that go along with the stories so they can have a better idea of what is going on. “It helps a lot,” Shellee says.
In part, Shellee wants to go on a mission because she has had a difficult time understanding the gospel principles. “I want to go on a deaf mission so I can learn more. I want to help those who are lost.”
Whether they are obvious or not, we all have our barriers to overcome—even smart, outgoing, cheerleaders who accidentally leave their radios blaring. But when we work together and keep on trying, those barriers come crumbling down.

My research and writing went well for a time, but when I presented a manuscript to the publisher, it hit a snag. Though they liked the content, they wanted a different format. I had prepared a documentary history and they wanted a narrative. They wanted a rewrite. It needed to read better and easier, in a more engaging style.

I wept that night, in late April 2002, having some sense of the enormity of what I was being asked to do and fully cognizant of my inexperience and lack of training. I did not even know what a narrative was. People I respected, who had more experience than I did, suggested I engage a professional writer to rework the manuscript. I felt pressured to agree, but I also felt a responsibility to complete what I had begun.

I stewed over the matter for weeks. Discouraged and uncertain, I boarded a plane with my wife and went to the Nauvoo Temple dedication. Our assigned seats for the opening session were in the assembly room, just a few rows in front of the pulpit where President Hinckley would soon appear. There we sat, quietly, waiting.

In the stillness of the temple, that familiar voice ”that reassuring voice that had spoken to me about willingness and encouraged me to go forward”spoke to me again. It was one of those times when my soul received counsel in sentences. I knew from the things that he said that the voice was Hyrum's. He made it clear that my presence there, on the anniversary of the Martyrdom, was no accident. Then, regarding the work before me, he said, "See that you do not give up on this thing nor give it to another!" I pulled a 3x5 card from my pocket and jotted down the injunction.

When President Hinckley came to the pulpit, he emotionally expressed his witness that Joseph and Hyrum were in attendance. I gratefully received his confirmatory witness. With the counsel and encouragement I received in the Nauvoo Temple, I came home and spent the better part of a year rewriting the manuscript.

With 10 seconds left on the clock, Skylar, playing for the Panthers basketball team, dribbled the basketball and shot a two-point buzzer shot. The crowd went wild as both schools cheered for Skylar. The final score was Panthers 69 and High Flyers 75.
Skylar is in the special-education class at my high school and has always loved basketball. I first met him in one of my seminary classes, and I have always admired him.
Skylar joined the basketball team, and in one game against our rival team, he was put in for the last few seconds. Ever since our high school was built, we have been rivals with the High Flyers, but as the ball landed in Skylar’s hands, every member from the opposing basketball team backed off and let him take the shot.
The ball flew through the air, and swish! Skylar made the last shot of the game. Both schools rose to their feet and cheered for Skylar. It was amazing how both schools came together to applaud his effort even though his team didn’t win.

Will you imagine something with me? Imagine that I have decided to present to a typical teenager a car such as this, and you are the one who has been chosen. On the evening of the presentation, I see that you are not quite financially able to run such a car, so I generously include free gas, oil, maintenance, tires, anything your car will use. I’ll give you all of this, and the bills will come to me.
How you will enjoy that car! Think of driving it to school tomorrow. Think of all the new friends you will suddenly acquire.
Your parents may be hesitant to let you use this car freely, so I will visit with them. I am sure they will be reluctant, but because of my position as one of the leaders of the Church, they will consent.
Let us imagine, then, that you have your car, everything to run it, and freedom to use it.
Suppose that one evening you are invited to attend a Church social. “There are just enough of you to ride in my station wagon,” your teacher says. “You may leave your car home.” When they come to take you to the party, you suddenly remember your new convertible, with the top down, parked at the curb. You run back in the house and give the car keys to your father, asking that he put it in the garage, for it looks as if it may rain. Your father, of course, obediently agrees.
Later you come home and notice your car is not at the curb. “Dear old Dad,” you muse, “always willing to help out.” But as the station wagon pulls into the driveway and the lights flash into the garage, you see it stands empty.
You rush into the house, find Father, and ask where your car is.
“Oh, I loaned it to someone,” he responds.
Then imagine a conversation such as this.
“Well, who was it?” you ask.
“Oh, that boy who comes by here regularly,” Dad says.
“What boy?”
“Oh, that … well, I have seen him pass here several times on his bicycle.”
“What is his name?”
“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t find out.”
“Where did he take the car?”
“That really wasn’t made clear.”
“When will he bring it back?”
“Well, there really wasn’t any agreement on that.”
Then suppose that your father should say to you, with some impatience, “Now you calm down. He rushed in here. He needed a car. You weren’t using it. He seemed to be in a frantic hurry over something, and he looked like an honest boy, so I gave him the keys. Now relax. Go to bed. Calm down.”
I suppose under the circumstances you would look at your father with a puzzled expression and wonder if some important connection had slipped loose in his thinking mechanism.
It would take a foolish father to lend such an expensive piece of equipment on an arrangement such as that—particularly a car that belonged to you.

For some time I had wanted to take pictures of Temple Square in Salt Lake City—including the reflection pool, the fountains, and the sidewalks—covered with freshly fallen snow void of any footprints. To get a picture of fresh snow without footprints, I knew I had to arrive at Temple Square early in the morning following a nighttime snowstorm.
One evening after a forecast of snow overnight, I prepared myself. Because Temple Square groundskeepers start plowing the sidewalks at 5:00 a.m., I set my alarm for 3:00 a.m. and got my gear together.
Driving on unplowed roads the next morning, I arrived at Temple Square at 4:15 a.m. while it was still snowing. Then I proceeded to drive around the square, looking for someplace to park that would give me easy access to take pictures.
On my first pass around Temple Square, I noticed that the walkway to the entrance of the Salt Lake Temple was covered in fresh snow—without any footprints! I knew I was going to get my perfect photo. Excited, I drove around the block again to find a parking spot.
As I proceeded east on North Temple Street, I thought I would find a spot close to the walkway. Before I realized it, however, I had run out of parking spots and was again near the sidewalk to the temple entrance.
As I sat at a red light, I looked to my right at the fresh, undisturbed snow. When I looked to my left toward the Conference Center, I noticed an elderly woman dressed in her Sunday best, her head tilted into the falling snow as she headed toward the temple.
“Oh, no,” I thought. “I’m not going to get my shot!”
As the woman crossed in front of me, I turned and looked toward the soon-to-be-ruined walkway and saw that another sister had already gone down the walkway and was turning into the temple entrance. Then I looked back to the first sister now walking down the walkway. With snow clumped around her shoes and ankles, and following the footsteps of the first, she walked slowly but surely down the walkway, through the gates, and into the entrance to the temple.
As I contemplated what I was seeing, I looked at the clock in my car: 4:20 a.m. Sitting in my warm car and looking at the footsteps in the freshly fallen snow, I was humbled by the faithfulness of these two sisters on their way to perform their appointed duties.
I drove around the block again, parked, grabbed my camera, and took a picture of footprints in the snow—a far greater picture than the one I had envisioned.

My family used to live in a big house, but everything changed when we moved to Hanoi. We lived in a very small apartment, about 30 square meters. Living in a narrow space with three other people in my family was hard.
But I’m grateful that God can help make good things come from any situation. During that time, I was able to be an interpreter at church and for my parents. I could pray every day, I passed the sacrament, and I welcomed people investigating the gospel. I know that God has blessed me and guided me to do those things.
Through all the challenges at that time, my faith became stronger day by day. Many people don’t know about the gospel in my country, so I’m a young pioneer. I have a desire to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with people to help them have a happy life forever with Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.

Thirty-three years ago, as a young boy, I received the ordinance of baptism. The baptizer was my father, Samuel E. Otuonye, who had just found the new faith and embraced it with the greatest joy. Though we had no full-time missionaries posted in our area then, as the Church was relatively new, I saw my father proselyting from home-to-home sharing the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. As a farmer, he would gather us, his children, for a service to those he was sharing the gospel with. The Church was very far from us, and my father would use his motorcycle to carry the investigators three to four times every Sunday to church and bring them back in the same manner.
During our family home evening or family council, he would always emphasize that all his sons would serve a full-time mission eventually. It was very easy for me and my other siblings to make the decision to serve a mission when it was time. We are all happy today for the good example of my father as we were growing.
In April of 2000, I was called to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission. It became the greatest opportunity for me to show my love, share my beliefs and invite others to join me to come unto Christ. Four of my siblings have also served in various missions.
I then realized that there are many yet on earth who are kept away from the truth because they know not where to find it. (See Doctrine and Covenants 123:12). Because of this, I join my voice to encourage the stake presidents, the bishops, and the parents and guardians to prepare all our young men to serve a full-time mission and the young women, if they so desire. This period of 24 and 18 months, respectively, provides a time of great devotion to them. They deny themselves of worldliness and only focus on the Lord’s errand.
My wife, Kate, and I are both in the medical field. After our marriage, we looked at our circumstances and began to think of how to share our blessings with others. We both worked in the state hospital as a medical doctor and a laboratory scientist. We realized that it would not give us the full opportunity that we needed to share our love with others. After much consideration, we established our own hospital, Ensign Hospital, which has become a great avenue to show our love to others.
As a leader in the Church and a medical practitioner I often encounter those who are in pain, those who are depressed, some who suffer with substance abuse, some who are near the point of suicide, accident victims, etc. It offers a great opportunity for me as I help to restore life. During my one-on-one visits with patients, after giving medical attention, I restore hope to them by sharing my belief and how my family and I have been blessed. Several times, I have pulled out my family picture and shared the joy we feel together. Many develop an interest and listen to the missionaries and are brought to the waters of baptism.
Sharing the gospel alone may not be very productive. Rather, it is our lives and those of our family members, the joy that radiates within us, the unity and how we live our lives that becomes the nonverbal message that we share to those around us. This has the greatest impact in their lives.
Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “Whenever we show Christlike love toward our neighbor, we preach the gospel even if we do not voice a single word.
“Love for others is the eloquent expression of the second great commandment to love our neighbor; it shows the refining process of the Holy Spirit working within our own souls. By demonstrating Christ’s love to others, we may cause those who see our good works to ‘glorify [our] Father which is in heaven.’
“We do this expecting nothing in return.
“Our hope, of course, is that they will accept our love and our message, though how they react is not within our control. …
“Through Christlike love to others, we preach the glorious, life-transforming properties of Christ’s gospel and we participate significantly in the fulfilling of His great commission.”
Brothers and sisters, there is no hard and fast rule on how and where the gospel of Jesus Christ should be shared. Sharing can be done directly or indirectly as you bear your testimony of the divine help of the Lord, during your discussions with friends.
Because I have lived almost all my years within my environment, my life has become a testimony to those who know me as I have been growing. Many are now coming to me to express their feelings after I invite them to join the Church. One of their questions in responding to my invitation is often “Will your Church take me to America if I join?”
I will then answer with my usual joke, “We better write in front of our Church gate ‘express visa to America after baptism’”.
I then tell them no, but what they will get is the everlasting gospel that brings peace and restores hope. I explain that they will learn about the plan of happiness and that their family will experience a great unity of love.
I bear witness and testimony that my family and I have been blessed tremendously beyond measure, we have a living prophet, God lives, Jesus is the Christ, and this is His Church.

“Ski down here to the right, Ethan. Remember to keep your ski tips together and the backs apart, and follow me.”
Ethan was nervous. He watched as his ski teacher put his ski tips together and snowplowed a short way down the hill. This was only his second day of skiing, and even though he loved the snow and the mountains, he was still a little scared of skiing. As he looked at the path his teacher had taken, he thought it looked too steep.
“I think I’d rather go this way,” Ethan called to his teacher, pointing off to his left. There was another path that looked much easier. It was flat and straight as far as he could see.
But his teacher shook his head.
“You don’t want to go that way,” he called to Ethan. “It gets a lot harder than it is right there—you just can’t see it.” He pointed again to the path on the right and said, “Go right where I went,” he said. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
Ethan faced a tough decision. The path his teacher wanted him to take looked scary. The other path seemed like a better choice. Should he listen to his teacher or do what he wanted to do?
He really wanted to take his own path, but Ethan decided to follow his teacher’s advice. His palms were sweaty inside his mittens as he pushed his skis out into the triangle shape his teacher had taught him and started down the path on the right.
It was easier than he thought! He skied quickly down to where his teacher was waiting.
“Good job, Ethan!” his teacher said as Ethan skied over to him. “I’m glad you trusted me. Do you see that?” he said, pointing up the hill.
Ethan looked at the very steep, rocky, scary-looking hill his teacher was pointing to. “Yes,” he answered.
“That’s the path you wanted to go down,” his teacher replied.
Ethan gulped. His teacher was right—the path on the right was much better.
“Are you glad you listened to me?” his teacher asked.
“Definitely!” Ethan replied.
As they skied down the rest of the hill, Ethan trusted his teacher without worrying. He knew his teacher would tell him the right way to go.
Heading home after his ski lesson, Ethan thought a lot about how scary it would have been if he hadn’t trusted his teacher and hadn’t taken the safer path. His mom was always quoting a scripture about trusting in the Lord instead of in our own understanding. Maybe that was because Heavenly Father’s plan was the safest path—even if it did seem harder at first.
Ethan could remember a few times when he had wanted to do something that seemed easier or more fun than keeping Heavenly Father’s commandments. He decided that from now on he would trust Heavenly Father and follow His path. He felt a warm feeling inside because he knew he would be safe.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity of traveling with the President of the Church to attend a series of area conferences. I will never forget the contrast between two conferences that were held just a few days apart. The first area conference was held in a large arena, and as we sat on the stand, we noticed continuous movement by the people. We saw individuals throughout the arena leaning over and whispering to family members and friends seated next to them. Giving the members the benefit of the doubt, we attributed the general lack of reverence to the nature of the facility.
A few days later, we were in another country attending another area conference in an arena much like the first. When we entered the arena, however, an immediate hush came over the congregation. As we sat through the two-hour general session, there was very little movement among the people. Everyone listened intently. Great attention and respect was shown all the speakers, and when the prophet spoke, you could hear a pin drop.
After the meeting was over, I asked the priesthood leaders about what they had done to prepare the people for the conference. They told me their preparation had been simple. They had asked priesthood holders to explain to the members of their families, and also the families they home taught, that at an area conference they would have the privilege of hearing the words of the prophet and the Apostles. The priesthood leaders explained that the reverence their people felt for God and His servants was the basis for their reverent behavior at the conference.

Jeremy recently graduated from high school with a 4.0 grade point. His classmates there were always eager to lend a hand, and the school even tried to accommodate his special needs by acquiring a voice-activated computer. “My friends are really supportive,” Jeremy says. “It’s awesome.”

And Jeremy, in his own way, has given something back. At an awards banquet, where the top 100 students were honored, Jeremy received a special award and as it was presented, it was pointed out that Jeremy had provided a great experience for the student body. Not only had he given them an opportunity to extend themselves in service, but he’d provided an incredible example of tenacity, courage, and high spirits.

In the famous movie The African Queen, two refugees from World War I violence in East Africa are trying to reach the relative safety of Lake Victoria. After surviving many near disasters, their boat, The African Queen, is stranded in a marsh. Unable to tell which way the current is flowing and surrounded by high growth, the two refugees become disoriented and discouraged. At the end of their energy and faith, they are about to give up and die.
Then, in a moment of high drama, the camera through which we are viewing their peril rises, and with new perspective we see their true location. Out of sight to them, but just a few meters away, are the long-sought liberating waters of Lake Victoria.

One night our family went out for pizza and games. When I finished eating my pizza slices, I was still hungry. I wanted to take a slice from my sister Eden, but my parents said not to. A minute later she decided to give me her last slice. That made us all smile.
Two nights later, Eden finished eating her dinner first. It was one of her favorite meals, and she wanted another helping. When I heard my mom tell her it was all gone, I decided to share mine. Eden was happy, and I felt good sharing something with her that she really likes. I remembered the good example Eden was to me when she shared her pizza.

I first started playing football in seventh grade and was excited to finally be on a school team. Moving to ninth grade football, I noticed that everyone seemed a little more intense and competitive. I also noticed that the language on and off the field was rougher than it had been before.
In my monthly interview with my dad I brought up my worries about the vulgar, degrading talk that was a part of school and sports. He listened while I described how the players behaved on the field and how people talked at school. Dad listened and said that language shows the true nature of a person. I pointed out that my older brothers, Peter and Christian, had played high school ball a few years before and had not talked or acted inappropriately. It occurred to me that we actually have a choice as to how we behave and express ourselves at school and on the field. In fact, in every aspect of our lives, no matter where we are, we can choose just how we are going to be.
At the end of the interview, my dad and I came up with the idea of “clean mouth/clean mind.” The next night in family home evening, we talked about the importance of having a clean mouth and a clean mind in everything we do, including sports. Mom abbreviated the “clean mouth/clean mind” phrase to (CM)2, and we set a rule to keep a clean mouth and a clean mind at work, school, and play. We even made shirts with (CM)2 printed on them.
When I started wearing the (CM)2 shirt at school, my friends and teachers began to ask me what (CM)2 stands for. After I explained what it was, they wanted to join in. When some parents found out about (CM)2, they also asked for shirts as a reminder for themselves. Word spread from my middle school to my high school and then to the high school across town.
Because of the Internet, we’ve had people participate in places as far away as India, Europe, and South Africa. We’ve had a lot of fun getting the word out. My dad refers to the project as “a family home evening out of control.” We really don’t know just how far it will spread. Maybe it will reach clear around the world. It kind of makes you wonder how much better the world would be if more people agreed to have a clean mouth and a clean mind.

Three months passed before I was interviewed and ordained a deacon. That Sunday morning I stood in front of the sacrament table to distribute the emblems of the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. I still remember the surroundings: The dining room of a home had been transformed into a meeting hall for sacrament meetings that were attended by a few members. It was my first opportunity to magnify my priesthood calling. Nine months later I was ordained a teacher and learned how to teach and to watch over the few members of the branch.
Another four months passed, and I was ordained a priest. Now I stood on the other side of the sacrament table. The decor was the same, but I felt different. It impressed me that now I was blessing the emblems of the Atonement and memorizing “that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, … and always remember him and keep his commandments … that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:77).
Two years passed after my baptism, and the day arrived for me to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to be ordained an elder. The mission president once again laid his hands upon my head. The higher authority and power to act in the name of the Lord were given.
The Church is a divine institution led by the authority of the priesthood. I testify that Jesus lives, that this is the only true church, that the priesthood of the Son of God is vested herein, and that the prophets, seers, and revelators who preside over this church are appointed to preserve the pure doctrine of Jesus Christ and the authority of his priesthood for the salvation of his people.

Some time ago a high school senior and student body leader was asked about his relationship to his peer group. This young man said, “I find great strength in the example of my peers. To get up and walk out of an offensive movie, to stand up and defend or even befriend a person whom everyone else ridicules, to be the only one in the crowd to say no to drinking, dishonesty, breaking the Sabbath day—all of these actions take a person of strong character. Such people among my friends have given immeasurable courage to me and to others.”

He continued, “I remember a night when some friends and I sneaked into a movie through the exit without paying. We were laughing and feeling smart and smug about it when, without a word, one of my friends got up and left the theater. Suddenly, being dishonest didn’t seem funny any more. One by one each of us walked out each secretly wishing we had had that much courage.”

This young man went on to say, “Probably the most well-respected boy I know is a young man who makes friends with all kinds of people, regardless of their belief or status. He is loved among Church members and classmates. He is always the life of the party and a fun date, yet he has never lowered his high standards in any way to win a friend or to get a laugh. He gravitates naturally toward positions of leadership because his peers, even the weakest ones, sense his strength of character. He has changed the lives of many young people.”

Photographs by Richard M. Romney
Aidan Troutner, 18, from Timpview High School in Provo, Utah, figured he could race well at the Nike Cross-country Nationals (NXN) in Portland, Oregon. But no one figured he really had a chance to win the individual championship—until it came to the final sprint.
Aidan entered the meet, he says, “under the radar.” Several other runners were predicted to win. “But that’s one of the goals I had this season, not to worry about other people so much, just to focus on my own time and training, improving myself. The Lord gives us talents, but He expects us to put in the work.”
And Aidan had worked, hard. Training and competing from June through November had enabled him to win first place in both the Utah 5A high school championship and the Southwest Regionals.
“I had confidence in myself, because I knew I was prepared,” he says. “The Lord expects us to act, not to be acted upon [see 2 Nephi 2:13].”
He also knew that a couple of other Latter-day Saints were running, too. “So, just before the race began, we gathered together for prayer. We asked Heavenly Father to help everyone run to the best of their abilities. We said our prayer, then the starting gun went off and we were on our way.”
Aidan followed the strategy his coach had mapped out with him. He stayed in 4th position through most of the race. Then, with about 600 meters to go, he made his move. “It wasn’t until then that I realized I could really win it,” he remembers. “With 200 meters left, I took the lead and cruised to the finish line.” He had paced himself, and he had finished strong.
Aidan received a lot of recognition for his performance. “One of the greatest blessings I had was the number of people I got to talk to about the gospel,” he says. “Especially after the race, people wanted to know more about me, what I was doing after high school, and where I was going to college. I told them I’m going on a mission and then I’m going to BYU. It was an amazing blessing to talk to people who didn’t know much about the gospel.”
Aidan also finds that running has reinforced gospel principles for him.
“We had a lesson just last Sunday about self-reliance,” he says. “One of the key things we talked about was that self-reliance implies that you do it yourself, but in truth, we can’t do anything without our Savior Jesus Christ. That’s the way we become truly self-reliant—to rely on Him to ease our burdens. As applied to running, that means I couldn’t have done this by myself. I needed the help of teammates, coaches, and my family, just like each of us needs the help of the Savior.”

My great-grandfather, Heinrich Friedrich Christian Pieper, was baptized as a single man in his early 20s in Germany in 1895. As a new convert, he learned about the temple and began preparations to receive his ordinances in the house of the Lord. Because there was no temple near him, it was seven years before he could realize his dream. By that time, he was married and was able to be endowed and sealed in 1902. He now lived within one hour of a temple and worked hard to prepare names of ancestors. He and his wife visited the house of the Lord as often as possible to perform vicarious ordinances for loved ones. By 1952 he and his wife had performed more than 20,000 ordinances for others.

As Jeremiah had prophesied, the restored covenant was written deeply in my great-grandfather’s and great-grandmother’s hearts and, as a result, in the lives of me and other descendants. Their temple service provided them strength to endure life’s many challenges and remain faithful to their God.

It is interesting to note that in addition to such testimonies about President Monson’s loyalty to the elderly, many unsolicited testimonials of his equally urgent concern for the youth of the Church are also offered. There is something perpetually youthful about President Monson which allows him to relate to all the members of the Church, but especially the young. He loves them, is conscious of them, and is devoted to their spiritual success.
Immediately after young Tom Monson’s discharge from the navy following the conclusion of World War II, he was called to serve as a ward clerk. One evening he sat silently taking minutes while the bishopric agonized over the obvious lack of success with the young people in their ward, including challenges within the MIA program. Apparently the young clerk took it about as long as he could and then said, “Excuse me, brethren, but may I say something about the MIA and the youth challenges in this ward?” He then launched into a rapid-fire and profound summary of not only what was wrong with their ward youth program but what could rather quickly make it right. Then, realizing he may have been too bold and too presumptuous, he said, “Forgive me. I think I have said too much,” and excused himself from the room.
He was no sooner out the door than the bishopric looked at each other and said, “What are we waiting for?” They immediately called him back into the room, released him as ward clerk, and called him to be the superintendent of the MIA. In six months the 6–7th Ward combined program, with its totally committed young superintendent, was the example to which every other leader in the Temple View Stake looked for their own youth activities.
That lifelong devotion to youth is currently reflected in President Monson’s 25 years of service on the National Executive Board of the Boy Scouts of America, a longer term of service rendered than that of any other man who has ever been seated in that distinguished circle. Jere B. Ratcliffe, Chief Scout Executive for the Boy Scouts of America, says, “I don’t know any person about whom I could say more good things than I can say about Tom Monson. For me, Tom personifies enthusiasm in its original meaning—‘God within,’ or literally ‘inspired.’ He lights up every meeting he is in. The LDS Church is blessed to have such a leader of youth.”
One associate says that President Monson relates well to youth “because he is still just a boy at heart. Have you ever seen him at a Utah Jazz or collegiate game? He follows every play with keen personal interest. Tom is a big man with big responsibilities, but he still displays the enthusiasm of youth.”
Somehow that observation rings true, especially when we realize that this is the 12-year-old boy who, when making his first visit to the Seagull Monument on famed Temple Square, spent time wondering how a person could get those nickels and dimes, which had been thrown there by the slightly more contemplative, out of the reflecting pool. Actually, Tommy Monson was very touched by that visit to Temple Square, returning to his ward to give the first talk he ever delivered—on that wonderful pioneer story of the seagulls and the crickets.