Gospel Story Finder

Something was different about nine-year-old Heidi after school that cold afternoon. Instead of flinging her jacket like a Frisbee, she carefully hung it on the hook. Rather than pouncing at the refrigerator like a hungry tiger, she stared quietly out the window as if she was looking at something far beyond the border of the yard.
“Well, hi there!” Mom said, hoping to get her attention.
Like a person awakened from a dream, Heidi looked at her mom and smiled. “Oh, uh, how was your day, Mom?”
Mom wiped her hands on her apron and studied Heidi’s face. “My day was fine. How was yours?”
“Well … ,” Heidi began slowly, “it was … different.”
“I believe you. You seem to be a million miles away.”
“Well, maybe not a million. But at least as far as Arkansas.”
“Arkansas is a long way from California. What started you thinking about Arkansas?”
Mom cut an apple into four pieces and offered one to Heidi, who just cradled it in her hand.
“There’s a new boy named Billy coming to join our class tomorrow. The teacher told us his parents were both in a car accident in Arkansas. His mother died, and his father is in a hospital, not expected to live. Billy was sent here to California to live with an uncle.” Heidi looked down at the apple she was holding. “Can you imagine being that boy, Mom?”
“No, but you’re really trying to, aren’t you?”
Heidi nodded. “I just wish that there was something I could do for him. He’s going to feel so alone tomorrow.”
“I’m sure that there are some things you can do to help. Let’s think of some.”
“I can smile at him.”
“Good idea.”
“I can show him around the school and tell him about our classroom routine.” Heidi put her chin on her hand and looked up at her mother. “But it isn’t enough. Isn’t there something special I can do?”
“Well, there is something special we can do for Billy. Something that just might be ‘enough’.”
“What?”
“You and I can fast and pray for him. We can ask Heavenly Father to bless him to feel at peace in his new home and at his new school. We can also pray for his father to get well. What do you think about that?”
Heidi thought a moment about fast Sundays. She had been taught that fasting would help her feel the Spirit, but she usually just felt hungry and grumpy. She hesitated, but then something inside made her feel that it was going to be OK. She smiled at her mother. “I like that idea. Let’s do it.”
Just then, Heidi’s thirteen-year-old brother, Chris, entered the kitchen. Hearing Heidi’s last sentence, he asked, “Do what?”
Mom briefly told Chris about Billy and explained their plan. Chris said, “I’ll fast with you.”
“Wow! Really?” Heidi asked.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered, reaching for some cookies. Stopping his hand just above the cookie jar, he asked, “When do we start?”
“After dinner,” Mom answered.
The next day, Heidi came home, looking a little pale but happy.
“Wow! I thought fasting on Sundays was hard! Try playing kick ball and watching everyone else eat lunch! But you know, I believe our fasting and prayers helped Billy.”
“Oh good! Tell me about it.”
“Well, when I smiled at him, he smiled back at me. The other kids were pretty nice to him, and he seemed to have made friends with a couple of boys by the end of the day.”
“That’s great,” Mom said.
“And then—it was weird,” Heidi added. “You know how the language on the playground has been really bothering me lately?” Mom nodded, and Heidi continued, “Well, it was amazing, because I heard those same swear words but for some reason, they couldn’t get inside my mind. It was as if my brain was protected all day from getting dirty! Neat, huh?”
“That’s wonderful, Heidi,” Mom said, smiling.
“I’m really tired, but I feel happy. I hope Billy feels as peaceful as I do right now.”
Mom gave her a little hug. “I have a feeling he does.”
Chris came home, flopped into the nearest chair, and let his heavy pack thud to the floor. He leaned his head against the big cushion and closed his eyes. “When do we eat?”
“Let’s finish our fast together with a prayer. We’ll have dinner soon,” Mom suggested. “But first, tell me how your day went.”
“Well, you know how I’ve been dreading P. E. for weeks because a certain guy has been trying to shorten my life span?”
“Yes,” Mom answered, wondering what new form of violence this “gym enemy” had tried on Chris.
“I don’t know how to explain it, but today I didn’t feel any anger toward him, and he left me alone.”
As the three of them knelt to say one more prayer for Billy, Mom put her arms around her children’s shoulders. Was it her imagination, or had they both grown a little taller that day?

The youth of the Rootstown Ward, Akron Ohio Stake, devoted a year of service to handicapped children in their area. On a regular basis, 21 youth and their adult leaders traveled to a foundation facility where 126 handicapped children live. They learned from the staff of the facility that the children gained great benefit from the time spent with visitors.

When asked about the service they gave, Brian Kleckner said, “It’s kind of neat. These kids don’t get out every day. It’s fun, and in church we learn to care about people.”

Amanda Moss said, “I enjoy the kids. I feel I’m doing something special.”

Noticing the improvement some children made, Gretchen Brockett said, “I think it’s neat to work with these children and watch them progress over the months that we’ve been coming. It makes me feel good, and it touches my spirit.”

While a member of the Council of the Twelve, Elder McKay owned a big boar named Caesar. One Sunday morning Caesar broke out of his enclosure. Not having time to repair the fence before catching a train, Elder McKay put him in the chicken coop. But he forgot to tell any of his boys about it. That night at 2 A.M., the McKay household was awakened by the incessant ringing of the telephone. Answering it, fearful that a tragic message was involved, they received a telegram over the phone: “Caesar in chicken coop. Water him!”

Sister Patricia Parkinson was born with normal eyesight, but at age seven she began to go blind. At age nine, Pat began attending the Utah Schools for the Deaf and Blind in Ogden, Utah, some 90 miles (145 km) from her home, necessitating her boarding at the school—which included all of the homesickness that a nine-year-old could possibly experience.
By age 11, she had completely lost her eyesight. Pat returned home permanently at age 15 to attend her local high school. She went on to college and graduated with an undergraduate degree in communication disorders and psychology, and after a heroic struggle against doubting university admissions officials, she entered graduate school and completed a master’s degree in speech language pathology. Pat now works with 53 elementary school students and supervises four speech-language technicians in her school district. She owns her own home and her own automobile, which friends and family members drive when Pat needs transportation.
At age 10, Pat was scheduled to have yet another medical procedure to address her diminishing eyesight. Her parents had always told her exactly what was going to happen in terms of her medical care, but for some reason they didn’t tell her about this particular procedure. When her parents did tell her that the procedure had been scheduled, Pat, in the words of her mother, “was a mess.” Pat ran to the other room but came back later and said to her parents with some indignation, “Let me tell you what. I know it, God knows it, and you might as well know it too. I am going to be blind the rest of my life!”
Several years ago, Pat traveled to California to visit family members who were living there. While she was outside with her three-year-old nephew, he said to her, “Aunt Pat, why don’t you just ask Heavenly Father to give you new eyes? Because if you ask Heavenly Father, He will give you whatever you want. You just have to ask Him.”
Pat said she was taken aback by the question but responded, “Well, sometimes Heavenly Father doesn’t work like that. Sometimes He needs you to learn something, and so He doesn’t give you everything you want. Sometimes you have to wait. Heavenly Father and the Savior know best what is good for us and what we need. So They aren’t going to grant you everything you want in the moment you want it.”
I’ve known Pat for many years and recently told her that I admired the fact that she is always positive and happy. She responded, “Well, you have not been at home with me, have you? I have my moments. I’ve had rather severe bouts of depression, and I’ve cried a lot.” However, she added, “From the time I started losing my sight, it was strange, but I knew that Heavenly Father and the Savior were with my family and me. We handled it the best way we could, and in my opinion, we handled it the right way. I have ended up being a successful enough person, and generally I have been a happy person. I remember His hand being in everything. To those who ask me if I am angry because I am blind, I respond, ‘Who would I be angry with? Heavenly Father is in this with me; I am not alone. He is with me all the time.’”
In this case, Pat’s desire to regain her sight will not be granted in this life. But her motto, learned from her father, is “This too shall pass.”10

Over ten years ago a teenage boy requested a blessing from President Ezra Taft Benson. Even though the boy’s father was not an active elder, President Benson asked, “How would you like to talk to him at an opportune time and ask him if he would be willing to give you a father’s blessing?” Though doubtful, the young man agreed to try. He later reported:
“Brother Benson, that’s the sweetest thing that has happened in our family. … He gave me one of the most beautiful blessings you could ever ask for. … When he got through there was a bond of appreciation and gratitude and love between us that we have never had in our home” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1977, pp. 45–46; or Ensign, Nov. 1977, p. 32).

I'll never forget one meeting I had with one of my professors when I was an undergraduate student at a different campus. As we met I told him that I wanted to become a professor some day. His response was, "I don't think that's for you, it requires a lot of hard work and lots of brains." Perhaps because I was a young surfer from Hawai‘i, who still mostly spoke da kine pidgin, that he thought, "Oh, I don't think he can accomplish this task." However, through personal inspiration, I knew that the Lord was encouraging me to become a college professor. So, I left that meeting with a stronger determination to accomplish this goal. Fortunately, after transferring back to BYUH, I found a couple of professors who did believe in me. Eight years later, in 2005, I finished my Ph. D from the University of California, got hired as a tenure-track professor, and published much of my research on Hawaiian history and Hawaiian surfers. I accomplished these things only because I believed in the Lord and then he taught me to believe in myself. As students, you should also feel empowered and able to accomplish great things while here at BYU-Hawai‘i. So take your education serious, and prove your critics wrong.

“When I was a little boy,” President Hinckley said, “we traveled by horse and buggy. We had a sorrel horse, Prince, who was a feisty animal. He had to be treated just right or he would get a little balky and mean. He was rather high-spirited but a fine-looking animal.

“Then one historic day in our family, my father came driving up to our home in a new 1916 Model T Ford. What an exciting day that was! That Ford took the place of Prince and the buggy, yet all the time that I was growing up, we had a saddle horse or two.”

Some years ago a wonderful young man named Curtis was called to serve a mission. He was the kind of missionary every mission president prays for. He was focused and worked hard. At one point he was assigned a missionary companion who was immature, socially awkward, and not particularly enthusiastic about getting the work done.

One day, while they were riding their bicycles, Curtis looked back and saw that his companion had inexplicably gotten off his bike and was walking. Silently, Curtis expressed his frustration to God; what a chore it was to be saddled with a companion he had to drag around in order to accomplish anything. Moments later, Curtis had a profound impression, as if God were saying to him, “You know, Curtis, compared to me, the two of you aren’t all that different.” Curtis learned that he needed to be patient with an imperfect companion who nonetheless was trying in his own way.

I started my doctoral program in 2013. In my first class, we had an assignment to research and present our findings on the traditional use of Hawaiian words in a specific context. I chose to focus on religious lexical terms since we were reading the story of Kamehameha the Great, printed in the old Hawaiian newspapers in the early part of the 1900?s. The author was Joseph M. Poepoe, well known in Hawai?i for his literary publications and editorial work on eight Hawaiian language newspapers over a span of 24 years.

I thought it would be interesting to compare the religious lexical terms of a traditional Hawaiian story with those used in the Doctrine and Covenants that were printed around the same time. Little did I know at the time that there were two different publications of the Doctrine and Covenants in Hawaiian, one by our Church, translated by Ernest L. Miner, and the other by the Reorganized Church, who hired Poepoe to translate their Doctrine and Covenants. I learned that Poepoe had died in 1913, one hundred years prior to my research.

I felt impressed to learn more about him. Who was he as a person? Who was his family? Promptings led to old newspapers that contained the genealogy of his ancestors. I found that his temple work had been completed, but work for his family unit and extended family still needed to be done. I did what I could by inputting all the information I had, going back several generations, but did not request to do the temple work since I was not a direct descendent. A few weeks later, a high priest from our ward called, stating that his good friend was visiting. He was a descendent of Poepoe, and that he had requested the temple ordinances; however, he permitted for me to take the names to the temple.

All that week, the Spirit prompted me with urgency to go to the Kona Temple on Saturday. I remember asking my husband if we should invite one of the young men in the ward to go with us. Tim answered, “No, the Lord will provide.” And he did. When we walked into the baptistry, there were two young men from Maui there with their father. When it was time for the male members of Poepoe’s family to be baptized by proxy, these two young men were invited to do the ordinances. Afterward, I went to speak to the father and found out that these two young men were Hawaiian immersion students and were fluent in Hawaiian. I asked him to please explain to his sons regarding the work they did for the Joseph Poepoe family.

When I arrived at church the next day, I was surprised to see the same father and two sons visiting our ward, especially since the temple is in Kona, and our ward is on the opposite side of the island. They were staying with longtime friends in Puna who were members of our ward. During Relief Society, the mother of the two boys introduced herself to me and explained that she is a descendent of Poepoe. Through the whisperings of the Spirit, I am convinced that the Lord had a hand in putting these worthy young men in exactly the right place and at the right time to bring about sacred eternal blessings for their family.

I am still amazed how all the moving parts of this story just seemed to fall into place in a remarkable way. Doubters may say it was coincidence, but I cannot deny the inspirations, promptings, and the thinning of the veil that was experienced on that special day.

Not long ago we went to a wedding and saw the parents of a girl I knew a number of years ago—a girl who had been a great inspiration to me. I asked these parents, “How is Barbara doing?” They said, “She is doing just fine.” Let me share her story with you in her words, which appeared in the Instructor a number of years ago. Barbara was a student at BYU at the time this incident occurred.

It was just a normal, ordinary day. . . . We were driving home from California. It was raining, and the roads were slick. The driver lost control. I remember the sensation of the car turning over and over, shutting my eyes, being tossed about with no control, the banging of my head and arms, the pain and confusion, and then the final, awful silence—it was over. When I opened my eyes it was to a new and frightening world—to the reality of being paralyzed from the waist down.

Once I might have thought of paralysis only as a terrible tragedy, but after it became a part of my life I discovered it could also bring blessings. My paralysis introduced me to a whole new way of living, to many wonderful people, to a new assemblage of problems, adjustments, frustrations, tears, laughter, and joy. [I gained an] appreciation for myself as a person and as a child of God, appreciation for other people, and especially a love and appreciation for my Father in heaven.

Oh, what a self-image I used to have! I used to feel self-conscious wearing glasses; and now I had to “wear” a wheelchair. I used to be embarrassed if I did a clumsy, awkward thing . . .; and now clumsy was my middle name. I used to think people stared at me before, but now! . . . I had to learn to laugh so others would feel at ease around me and I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious. It may seem strange, but I appreciate myself more now than before I was paralyzed.

I used to take so many things for granted, things like showering, kneeling for prayers, dressing in a minute, getting places quickly. Now it is a challenge to do these once-simple things. (Just try getting out of a bathtub without using your legs.) I guess it took losing the use of my legs to make me start appreciating the physical body I have. Now I became very grateful for a clear mind with which to think, ears to hear, eyes to see . . ., hands that could do so many things.

Although I can’t dance, hike, play volleyball or basketball anymore, I have found there are still many things I can do from a wheelchair. I can drive a car, swim better than before, play doubles in tennis, bowl, play catch in softball (nobody dares try to slide home), cook, sew . . ., and do many other enjoyable things.

Since that eventful day [of my accident], I’ve realized the world is full of special people. How grateful I have become for a family who loves me—for parents who have stood by without a complaint, without a moment’s hesitation, willing to give unselfishly of their time, money and love.

Going back to the Brigham Young University put me in a position where I had to rely on people to pull me up stairs, open doors, reach books, push me through snow, etc. I became indebted to my understanding, patient, helpful, loving roommates and friends. . . . I was also fortunate to have . . . professors who [helped] me when the physical facilities . . . limited my accomplishments. These instructors encouraged me when I was discouraged, helped me achieve in my studies, and were especially supportive while I worked to earn my degrees and my teaching certificate.

Later I was blessed to meet Mr. Alma Edwards, who gave me the opportunity to [be a physical education instructor] at West Lake Junior High School in Salt Lake City. Here at last I proved to myself and others that I could do a useful, productive job in society.

Because so many have done so much for me, I have learned how important it is to serve anyone in any way I can.

Perhaps the greatest blessing which came from my “tragedy” was the love and appreciation I developed for my Father in heaven. Without the gospel . . . , this life in a wheelchair would be hard to bear. After my accident I had to depend completely on the Lord for the first time in my life. He became a real person with whom I could talk and who would help me to solve the problems and make the adjustments that were to come. Without my understanding of God as my . . . loving, concerned Father, I would be in the same rut I have seen so many others in—that of blaming God for my misfortune.

If I had to choose the one thing that has helped me most in my adjustment it would be what Elder Harold B. Lee said in a blessing he gave me one Sunday in the hospital.

“Barbara, the Lord loves you,” he said. With this knowledge what more did I need (what more does anyone need!) to keep trying, . . . to find reason and purpose in my life, to be happy, joyful and grateful for life, even in a wheelchair!

I am happy to report that Barbara Richards served for many years as a girls’ physical education teacher, instructing and influencing for good hundreds and hundreds of young women. She has continued to set goals for herself. She wanted to get a Ph.D., so set the goal and achieved it. Being in a wheelchair presented weight problems. She needed to lose forty pounds. She set the goal and achieved it.

Barbara is now teaching at the University of Utah. Her story teaches us so many lessons.

Let me briefly recount the life of Maggie Nichols Comer. African-American, she was born in Woodland, Mississippi, to a sharecropping family that had lived on in Mississippi after the end of slavery. Her father died when she was five years old. Her mother then married a man who was physically abusive to his wife and children and who kept them from school whenever it was possible for them to earn the slightest bit of money. At 16 Maggie ran away from home and migrated to East Chicago, Indiana. She worked as a domestic and eventually married Hugh Comer. With the help of her husband, who was often sick, she raised five children of her own as well as a stepdaughter. She was determined that her children would receive the opportunities that education could provide. She worked very hard, often at two or three jobs, to give her children opportunities. Her husband died of emphysema when her children were in high school. Still she did not let any obstacle deter her from helping her children to achieve all that was possible.

Let me give you a couple of examples of her tenacity. One of her sons who was attending Indiana University needed to take a course in the summer to be on track for his program, but the family did not have sufficient money to finance the education. Maggie Comer called Indiana University and asked to speak to the president. When the operator told her she couldn’t just call up and speak to the president of the university, Maggie simply insisted that she had to—and she eventually did obtain financial aid for her son. Once her son Charles had mistakenly received a “pink slip” from school indicating poor work. While driving down a four-lane highway connecting East Chicago to Chicago, she decided to discuss the matter with Charles. Here is her son James’ account of this conversation:

She said, “You can do better than that!”
He knew that there must be a mistake but he said, “No, I can’t.”
“You can!”
“I can’t.”
“You can!”
“I can’t.”
Finally Mom got so frustrated she stopped the car in the middle of the street and said, “You can!!!”
Mom was not the best driver in the world. . . . I was always a bit nervous when we got in the car. . . . But this was more than that. We were stopped in the middle of Columbus Drive, the busiest street in town—right in front of the main fire station. Cars were whizzing by and I could imagine that at any second the fire engines would roar out of the station. I was terrified! I could have choked Charles. Tell her you can and get us out of here, I thought to myself! [James P. Comer, Maggie’s American Dream (New York: New American Library, 1988), p. 111]

It turned out that the pink slip was a mistake. There were only two black children in Charles’ class, and the pink slip was meant for the other boy.

Maggie Comer raised five children, all of whom graduated from college and received advanced degrees. She taught them right from wrong. She taught them that they were responsible for their choices. All successfully pursued their professions with distinction and raised families of their own. Her son James, who tells her story in his book, is the Maurice Falk Professor of Psychiatry and associate dean at the Yale Medical School.

If you wish to believe that an undereducated black woman named Maggie Comer was programmed to use up her life in service to her children and many others, you may. I see her as a heroine who understood the principle of agency. Here is her statement in her own words.

Even as a little barefoot girl back in the country, I had this dream. I had this gift from inside to want something. I thought to myself that if this one could do it and that one could do it, I could do it. And when I couldn’t go on, I said my children would do it. People would say black folks can’t do this and can’t do that—I wouldn’t have any of it. Sure, I could see it was harder for black people, but I just wanted a chance. That’s what your father used to say, “Just give my people a chance!” [Maggie’s American Dream, pp. 227–28]

As the waves of uncertainty pounded on our door during and after the divorce, our commitment to family home evening became more vital than ever. Regardless of whether or not all of us felt like attending, we pushed through and held an “official” family home evening each week. Sometimes emotional tirades preceded the event, but once the opening hymn began, the Spirit was evident and usually all was calm.
Even those who refused to join the group would leave their bedroom doors open, allowing the sweet sounds of hymns, prayers, and scriptures to do their holy work. By the time we began singing the closing hymn, I would glance around from the piano bench and often see all my children sitting together—a loving miracle and a testimony of the spirit that comes only when we follow the counsel of the prophet.

One of my duties back on the farm was to feed my fathers sheep. During the cold winter their survival was dependent on my supplying them with hay and grain we had stored from the summer.
Beneficial as that was, nothing could compare with the Spring, when I would open the gate and guide the sheep out onto the grassy slopes where they could forage for themselves. Instead of huddling in bunches waiting to be fed, they would move freely over the hillsides, searching for and feasting upon living food from its original source. By fall they were always fat and healthy.

My first encounter with preaching the gospel was also exciting. In a park near my office in Bogotá, I saw a multitude, and since I had some time, I went down to see what was happening. My surprise was great when I saw the missionaries with displays about the Church and with copies of the Book of Mormon. They recognized me and asked me to stand in the middle of the park with a banner saying, “Be happy; be a Mormon.” I stood for a while in that place. I was a Mormon, but at that moment I was not so happy! But I started to feel better about my ability as a missionary, losing my fear to talk with people about the Church. I let go of my own restrictions—so many “don’ts”—and realized that this is the Church of love and service, of sacrifice and blessings, of happiness and eternal life. My message to the missionaries, to the people that are investigating the Church at this time, and to the members is, “Don’t give up; continue looking for the best results in this wonderful work.”

“You must have a personal conversion to the gospel, especially if you are going to share it with someone outside of the Church,” says Torfin Christensen, 18, of Kent, Washington.
Share your beliefs.
In the summer of 1991, Tor went to work for AnaMarie Hollenbach, a 72-year-old invalid confined to a wheelchair. He still does odd jobs around her house and brings her groceries in every Friday evening. He says, “At first, she was just curious about the Mormons, and we would talk about our beliefs with each other. Then a few months later, she asked for the missionary lessons. She accepted everything right down the line and gave up a lifelong habit of smoking.” On March 26, 1992, Tor baptized Sister Hollenbach.
As first assistant in the priests quorum of the Kent Third Ward, Kent Stake, Tor sees that Sister Hollenbach receives the sacrament in her home at least once a month since her health does not allow her to attend Church services on a regular basis.
Tor is working and saving money and hopes to be in the mission field by fall of this year. He says quietly but with conviction, “I believe the gospel. I live it. I’ve never experienced life without it, and I don’t ever want to.”
Live the gospel.
Here are a few more of the teachings of the gospel Tor lives by:
Service: His mother, Sherie Christensen, says, “Tor is keenly aware of the needs of others, and he is always doing something for someone. Here at home, if he sees something needs to be done he gets right after it without being asked or told.”
Scripture study: Tor graduated from seminary and continues to fit daily scripture study into his busy schedule. He feels that his seminary experience has given him a more thorough understanding of the gospel and has better prepared him for a mission.
Tithes: The first thing out of each paycheck is Tor’s tithing. He works at an apartment complex doing maintenance projects to earn money for his mission and personal needs.
Self-sufficiency: Tor worked to pay for a small truck he uses to help ease his own, as well as the family’s, transportation needs.

“Hurry up, Jared, or we’ll be late for church,” Mother called from the bottom of the stairs. Rushing down the stairs and out the front door, Jared suddenly remembered that he needed his scriptures for Primary. Rather than taking the time to go back upstairs, he grabbed a set from the living room bookshelf.
On the way to church, he flipped through the Bible to find his favorite scripture about baptism. He wanted to share it in Primary opening exercises. He was surprised to find that the scripture he was looking for was already underlined in red and that there was a date written in the margin. “What happened on 2 July 1982?” he asked, reading the date.
“Let me think,” Mother said. “That was about the time Samuel turned eight. Why, I believe that was when he was baptized.”
Samuel was Jared’s big brother. He had recently married and moved to another state to go to college. Even though Samuel lived far away, Jared loved him very much and still felt close to him.
Jared turned to the first page of the Bible and saw Samuel’s full name printed in a child’s scrawl. Jared realized this must be the set of scriptures his brother had used when he was in Primary. And Samuel must have had the same favorite scripture about baptism that Jared had now. That made Jared feel even closer to Samuel. Turning back to Matthew 3:16–17 [Matt. 3:16–17], Jared carefully wrote his own baptism date in the margin next to Samuel’s.
Jared happily carried his brother’s scriptures to his Primary class. When the teacher asked the students to open their scriptures to Doctrine and Covenants 4 [D&C 4], he discovered there was a bookmark there. It was old and worn around the edges.
Jared turned it sideways so he could read the words written on it: “Every young man should serve a mission.” He thought about Samuel’s mission to Mexico and about how Samuel had begun saving money for a mission while he was still in Primary. Jared wondered if Samuel had started his mission fund when he got this bookmark.
After Primary, Jared carried Samuel’s scriptures to sacrament meeting. When one of the speakers read Doctrine and Covenants 131:2 [D&C 131:2], Jared was not surprised to open Samuel’s scriptures and see that the verse was already underlined. He also found a card there on which Samuel had written five reasons he wanted to get married in the temple. Jared thought about his brother’s recent temple marriage. Samuel must have started planning to get married in the temple when he was my age!
When Jared got home from church, he wrote a letter to Samuel:
Dear Samuel,
Thanks for letting me borrow your scriptures today. I hope you don’t mind that I wrote my baptism date in the margin next to yours. I’ve always wanted to be just like you when I grow up, and now I know how I can start. I want you to know I am going to save some money each week for my mission. And after my mission, I want to get married in the temple. Thanks for being a good example to me your whole life.
Love, Jared

Melissa and Mary Grace Moore had invited a friend who lived near them. Their mothers were friends. Doug Silcock’s parents had once been active members of the Church but hadn’t attended meetings since he was a little boy. Now, after going to the seminary breakfast, he started asking questions, wanting to learn more. He met the missionaries, took the discussions, and was baptized. Now he too attends seminary every morning.

“He gets all of the credit,” Melissa says.

Nora Graham adds, “That’s how I feel. Doug was just ready and wanted the Church in his life. Now we pick him up for church every Sunday. Our class introduced him, but the conversion really had nothing to do with us.”

I’d like to tell you about a former Lutheran minister who was baptized into the Church. He said he had found a pearl of great price and was prepared to give up everything for it. He was well settled as a minister of the Lutheran Church. He had a good home, a good job, and was well-respected by everybody. But he said when he found the pearl of great price, though it took some time, he was prepared to sell all that he had and accept that pearl of great price. I quote from a talk he gave after his baptism:

“A year and a half ago, an LDS family asked me to teach two of their sons piano. One of them played tonight during the sacrament meeting. Last summer, an LDS family asked me to teach three of their children piano. In dealing with not only these young people, but their parents, their families, I dealt quite closely with them. I began to realize that there was something very special about the Mormon people, a people somehow set apart as far as I could tell. I didn’t know what it was, but it was something that I began to want.

“What’s in a decision? The Holy Ghost, let me tell you, really works with young people. I think that they were probably the most active in our conversion because those young people didn’t do a super selling job—they were just themselves. They were simply fantastic. Those young people were thrilling to work with, and they still are. They did a tremendous job of evangelism.

“What’s in a decision? Brothers and sisters, there’s a world waiting outside for you and me. In Luke 10:2 we read, ‘Therefore said he unto them, The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few: pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his harvest.’ Are we going to sit back and take things easy? Are we going to sit by and do nothing? Or are we going to decide to help that world out there waiting for you and for me to decide on the greatest decision of their lives? If you and I allow the Holy Ghost to work through us, the impossible will become possible. Frustration will become peace, and the seekers will become finders. It happened to our family, and I am thankful to almighty God. I am thankful to the many people who were his tools that it did happen.

“What’s in a decision? It is the Holy Ghost working through you and through me. That’s what’s in a decision. I bear you my testimony tonight that this is the true Church. I believe it with all my heart. I bear you my testimony that we have living prophets today. They are revealing great truths from God to us this very day. I sincerely believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I thank God every day that we have the restored Church. I thank God every day that Jesus lives. I thank God that we have a wonderful Church filled with people, so that Jesus not only lives but he lives through these people. You and I have a great job to do, and I pray to our Heavenly Father that we will not let him down. The harvest is very ripe, and you can’t wait too long. I bear you my testimony that all these things are true in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior. Amen.”

That was the talk given by a man who had heard of the Church a year and a half before and who had been a successful, well-respected minister in the Lutheran Church.

I remember blessing a young mother who came seeking renewed strength to endure a difficult pregnancy with her third or fourth child. She had great faith, and as I blessed her, as her bishop, I felt power streaming down my arms and through my fingers into the crown of her head. I felt it course through her body, even to the tips of her toes. It was a powerful, cleansing, rejuvenating force, almost electric in its energy, yet calm and soft and assuring. After the blessing she arose and, with tears in her eyes, said, “I felt that all the way to the tips of my toes.” Priesthood power is power from Jesus Christ, the Redeemer, and is a great trust and a great responsibility.

After working on their disabilities merit badge and deciding to involve Jeffery more in their activities, they met with Jeffery’s parents to find out what he was capable of doing. The boys in the quorum decided to invite him to participate in their basketball game. Since Jeffery couldn’t participate in the actual game the boys were playing, they took turns removing themselves from the game in order to step to the sidelines to toss the ball to him. Brother Bellon notes, “Having Jeffery become a more active part of the quorum helps us realize that he is really no different than any one of us. Building a relationship with him has allowed all of us to be more compassionate toward him and toward each other.”