Gospel Story Finder

Many North Americans cannot imagine Thanksgiving without a large turkey, roasted, ready for carving, and proudly displayed in the center of the dining table.In our family the turkey must not only taste deliciously like American turkey, but must look the part as well. This has at times become a concerning issue, as we have celebrated Thanksgiving in different parts of the world.

In the meat markets in France, after plucking all the feathers from all types of poultry, the butchers display the birds by hanging them upside down from the ceiling. You can pick out the bird you prefer. In our first year in France where we were serving a mission, my wife, Kathy approached the French butcher, and said in her best French, "J'ai besoin d'une dinde," ("I need a turkey"). He pointed to a bird hanging from the ceiling, "voila, une dinde," ("there's a turkey"). She looked puzzled. It did not look like an American turkey. Its neck was much too long; it's body much too small. It took a few visits, but after much effort from my industrious wife and the butcher, she found a bird that looked quite like an American turkey. Our local French grocer found one for us each year we lived there.

Finally in July 1959 the plans were completed. Thirty faithful Tahitians had worked, saved, and sacrificed to raise the money necessary to finance a trip to the Hawaii Temple. It had taken much work to bring the Paraita (literally the Big Chief), the mission yacht, into dry dock, to repair it, and to repaint it. Then there had been the problems with the French government. The officials had argued against the proposed boat trip to Hawaii. They questioned why the Mormons didn’t want to head southwest to New Zealand to attend the temple there. “You like the Americans,” they taunted. “That is the only reason why you want to go to Honolulu.” Raituia T. Tapu (the skipper of the mission yacht and later the first stake president of the Tahiti Stake) had difficulty convincing the French officials that the trip north over the Pacific Ocean to Hawaii would be safer than the trip across wide expanses of open water to New Zealand because of the many islands that could be used as shelter in case of storms. When Brother Tapu insisted, “I will have 30 passengers with me, and I won’t take them to New Zealand and face the weather that way,” he convinced the harbor master and the two of them convinced the French governor that the Saints on the Paraita should be allowed to sail to Hawaii.
Brother Tapu not only obtained permission from the French officials, but he also wrote to Salt Lake City to get permission from President David O. McKay. That permission had been granted and everything was ready.
Then a fateful call came from the mission office. Everyone anticipating the voyage was to gather for a meeting at the mission home before the departure.
The president of the French Polynesian Mission, Ellis V. Christiansen, was nervous about the forthcoming meeting. True, permission to take a group of Saints to the temple in Hawaii had been granted by President McKay, but that day a special messenger, Ernest C. Rossiter, a former president of the French Polynesian Mission, had arrived direct from President McKay in Salt Lake City. The news he brought was stunning. The Saints had been asked not to make their long-sought voyage. According to Brother Tapu, President McKay gave no explanation. He merely asked Brother Rossiter to “go and stop them. They won’t make it, and if we allow them to come, we’ll be in trouble with the [French] government. We’ll be responsible for them. So you go and stop them.”
In the mission diary, President Christiansen wrote expressing his anxiety about telling the Saints who were ready to embark:
“I was much concerned and felt I needed the Lord’s help to assist me in giving an explanation to these humble, faithful members, who had such high hopes of receiving their endowments in His Holy House. I fasted and prayed about it. I called a meeting of the priesthood members for July 15, 1959, at 8:00 o’clock, and also asked six of the faithful brethren to come to my room at 7:30, and with the help of President Rossiter we told them of the decision that had come from the First Presidency, and told them that we desired their faith and prayers in presenting the message to the members of the priesthood who would assemble at 8:00 o’clock. After President Rossiter and I had finished talking to these men, they in turn spoke briefly their thoughts, and as I listened a great joy swelled inside me as they told their desire to obey the counsel of our prophet here upon the earth.
“We went to the meeting with the priesthood members. After hearing the message from the First Presidency, [they] expressed their convictions that if this word had come from the leaders of the Church then it must have come through the inspiration of the Lord, and the only way to show their love and appreciation for the blessings He had given them was to be obedient to the counsel given. I then called for a vote, and all hands were raised accepting the decision of the First Presidency.”
So the voyage was cancelled, and neither President Rossiter, nor President Christiansen, nor the faithful Tahitian Saints really knew why the prophet of God had told them not to go. They cancelled the voyage because they had faith in the prophet.
Later, Brother Tapu, the skipper, returned to his boat where a mechanic told him that a small gear was damaged and would only provide 100 to 150 more hours of service. This fact notwithstanding, the boat was launched and anchored. Then, according to the skipper, Brother Tapu, “I layed off everybody except my first mate. I left him on board and told him to keep an eye on the boat and to repair the sail.
“Well, a couple of days later I got a call. I was over here at the mission office working on our local Church magazine. The call was from the harbor master. He said, ‘Hey, your boat’s sinking.’ And I said, ‘What, I just got it out from dry dock!’ He still said, ‘Your boat is sinking. Hurry!’ So I rushed to the harbor and the boat was halfway down. My first mate was underneath the boat checking what was going on. He found that the exhaust pipe from the kitchen was rotten. The repairmen had painted over some very rotten wood and rusty pipe. It had broken and the water went in.
“So what would you say if we were two or three hundred miles away on a lifeboat? If we had sailed according to schedule, we would have been that far on our way when the rotten pipe and wood gave out.”
At the time when the Saints in Tahiti had accepted the counsel of the prophet, they could not understand President McKay’s reason for concern. But now they understood the ways of God. Brother Tapu expressed this knowledge when he said, “That’s why I always had a testimony of President McKay, a true prophet of the Lord.”
Editor’s Note:
This story is well known among the Saints and missionaries in the Tahiti Papeete Mission. Some misconceptions have grown concerning this incident. One is that President McKay told the mission president to sell the boat at the same time the warning was given, and this being done, the boat soon sank. According to Brother Tapu, this is not true. The Church actually bought a new engine fairly soon after this event and kept the boat for about three years. Then the ship was sold and used for about two more years. At that point the government inspectors declared it unsafe for further use. It was then sailed to the other side of the island from Papeete where it rotted and finally sank. It died a very natural death.

Another characteristic that we must develop is that of personal authenticity. A number of years ago, at Universal International Studios, I watched the filming of television programs and movies. It was delightful, with one exception. Everything that I saw was false—the sheriff’s office, the jail, even the running rivers and sagebrush were made from plastic. As I was observing this artificiality, a beautiful young television star came up and asked, “How do you like what you see here?” “I love it,” I answered, “and I’m enjoying my self; but I’m sort of disappointed because everything is false.”

She looked up and said, “But that’s why we must be so real. The audience must focus on us.”

And then I thought, “Oh, how true that is with life!” Almost everything we see outside in the world, brothers and sisters, is false; it is misdirected. That is why we must be so real, why we must be so honest, why integrity must be tattooed upon the spirits of us all.

“You are not good enough.”
Those are the words hanging up on a wall in my basement. There’s a small room there where I exercise, and as negative thoughts come into my mind, I write them down and pin them up on a board. It’s a reminder of the struggles I have faced and the old self I am leaving behind.
For a long time I told myself I wasn’t good enough. I felt overwhelmed with depression and anxiety, which in turn led to poor physical health. I was drowning. I felt worthless. I felt hopeless. I believed I wasn’t worthy of God’s love or anyone else’s.
As young adults, many of us probably experience times when we feel like we’re not good enough, whether it has to do with our behavior, talents, or, in my case, self-image. Recently, I challenged myself to open up and dust off the most hidden pages in my personal book of life. During my exploration, I found a few things that had cultivated the negative personal image I held inside for so long. But I also discovered these three ways to overcome them.
I once read a quote by Theodore Roosevelt that said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” In a world where everyone’s life experiences are freely shared through social media, I felt constantly driven by unrealistic comparisons to friends, family, and prominent social figures. My deepest shortcomings were being matched with another’s greatest accomplishments, and I was often left feeling inadequate. In this time of negative self-reflection, I realized that I needed to change my mindset.
I took a break from all forms of social media and started to work on personal positivity and seeing the best in others. In a short amount of time, my thoughts began to change. I quickly stopped comparing my negatives to others’ positives like I had so often done before. In fact, I began to secretly celebrate the successes of others! This practice instantly melted away the wall of pride and jealousy I had built up over time. What followed was a clear mind and the ability to view things from an eternal perspective.
Our experience on earth is sometimes overshadowed by the burdensome realization that we are imperfect mortal beings. Eventually the negative way I viewed myself and my body consumed all parts of my life. When I felt the weight of my imperfections growing, I would turn to destructive behaviors instead of to the Lord. These behaviors created a feeling of imperfection that was so heavy at times that I felt life wasn’t worth living. Ultimately the only place I could turn to was to the Lord. Through humility and repentance, I made an effort to be more consistent in reading the words of prophets with a purpose and praying to understand my surroundings with heavenly eyes.
No trial is too great when we turn to the Lord and accept His will, no matter the outcome. Contrarily, trials tend to feel burdensome when we attempt to force our will over His. By accepting His will, I found a higher level of clarity, and I began to see value in the person I was instead of constantly living in a state of inadequacy.
In Moroni 8:16 we are told that “perfect love casteth out all fear.” Perfect love is the most powerful tool we can wield as we face ourselves in the mirror and comprehend the eternal value of ourselves and everyone around us. It is seeing ourselves for who we are instead of putting our flaws under a microscope. It is not conditional on outward appearance. It is forgiving ourselves and others of past errors and moving forward with our eyes fixed on the light of eternal glory.
I found I cannot simply attempt to love; I must let it consume me and become a part of who I am. Within the walls of perfect love we find the true nature of God—and by extension our own divine nature—and the path that He has created for us.
My journey to better mental, physical, and spiritual health has strengthened my faith in God’s timing and His eternal love for me. At times I was brought very low, but when I stopped comparing myself to others, aligned my will with God’s, and learned to truly love myself, the image of my eternal destiny came into focus and I found peace. God’s love is infinitely mighty. When we slow down and take the time to discover it, He will help us see that we are good enough, even in our weakest moments.

Sister Ivone Armada from the Luanda Stake in Angola decided to use the Savior’s perspective as a guide for her gospel living. With her permission, I am sharing her comments. She wrote:
“At some point in my life, I was finally able to stop working to keep up with my children’s growth and home management. But I wanted to do something more, to contribute to the growth of one’s life.
“I prayed to the Lord, and at the end of the prayer an ‘angel’ was placed in my life—a friend who would help me become a facilitator to teach literacy classes.
“We started the training for this and when it ended, I divulged the project in the Church and in the community and thus formed a class where I could teach during a school year for children and adults with literacy needs.
“It was a great gift in my life, indeed for my whole family, since the preparation of the classes became a family project. It became a beacon—not only in the students’ lives but also in mine—I learned a lot about sacrifice with them and about perseverance.
“Three years later, on the day of the creation of the Angola Stake, I had the great blessing of meeting with several of these students (an adult and the rest—young people) and how wonderful it was to hear them say that they had never failed school again, they were so excited. My heartbeat fired and I remember looking up and saying in silence: ‘Thank you Father in Heaven’.
“Upon hearing one of the adult sisters that attended the class say that because of these classes she was able to start a small business that has provided for her family’s needs, we embraced each other, and we began to weep with gratitude. My husband and the people around me were perplexed to see this. My husband realized what was happening.
“With this experience, what is found in Doctrine and Covenants 81:5 and 84:106 gained tremendous weight in my personal and spiritual growth. I became a humbler person and had the purpose of leaving a legacy of greater service to my neighbor.”
Thanks to this experience, Sister Ivone continues to contribute in training and developing others. She went over and beyond what was being asked and used her time and talents to help others at Church and in her community. She indeed ministered to those in need and was blessed far beyond her expectations for that.

The other example in my life was my mother. By the time my father graduated from law school, my parents had three children. During law school, they lived in a small two-bedroom apartment and at times, their bathroom was a communal bathroom with other law school families. Before my father had even taken the bar, he was asked to be Madison County's prosecuting attorney. This began a lifetime of civil service. While I was a teenager, my father served as state senator. He would go to Boise during the legislature, come home to Rexburg Friday night, work all day Saturday at his law office and then work all day Sunday as the bishop of our home ward where he served for nine years. He was also a counselor in a bishopric for five years, a Ricks College Stake President and in the presidency of two different Mission Presidencies. During all of this time, my Mother would go alone to church and sit with us, her seven children.

Now most of you are probably saying, "Wow, didn't having your father gone so much and being so busy cause great damage to his children?" Here is my response: First, we, his children, knew without a doubt that our father loved us unconditionally. Secondly, my mother never complained. Yes, I get that response a lot--surely she had to complain about being left with seven children so much, but I can honestly say that I never heard her complain. She was a saint.

What happened because my mother was selfish and supported my father? She had seven righteous and pretty terrific children who absolutely loved her. Because of her support while my father was in school, he loved his job so much that he still goes to work at 92 years of age. This is especially poignant considering a 2013 Gallup State of the American Workplace Report that shows that 70 percent of American workers either hate their jobs or are completely disengaged. I never heard my father complain about going to work.

But more importantly to me was when my mother was diagnosed with cancer and the devotion my father showed her in her illness. As her health deteriorated, I watched my father care for her with the greatest of tenderness and love, he even applied moisturizer to her face daily, something she would always do when she was well. I was with her when she took her last breath and I had this well of gratitude and respect fill my whole soul for the woman she was and the support she gave to all of us.

One evening last summer the 64 members of the “Sounds of Friendship” performing group from the LDS Institute of Religion at Utah State University were worrying if they could keep the interest of 2,000 young people who didn’t speak English. The “Sounds” were to perform the next evening for youth groups from such countries as East Germany, Poland, Russia, and Bulgaria at the Youth Pop-folk Celebration at Primorsko, Bulgaria, a resort on the Black Sea. The Utahns hoped to make a lasting impression but were worried about the language differences and the cold, windy amphitheater where they would be performing. The next night, however, the weather suddenly turned warm and the “Sounds” presented their full concert to the entire audience. In fact, one group of listeners kept their bus waiting because they didn’t want to leave the performance! The language barrier had been broken.
The concert in Primorsko was part of a three-week tour of Rumania and Bulgaria for the “Sounds,” officially known as the “Sounds of Zion” in the United States. “While on tour we had to change our name, since we were not allowed to perform as a religious group,” explained member Alex Baugh. “So we centered our program on themes of happiness, joy, and the home and family. Yet at every concert we were able to sing ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ and ‘God Be with You.’ In this way we let them know how much our country and our Heavenly Father mean to us.”
In addition, the group was allowed to hand out picture postcards of Utah, the temples, and other Church buildings; Articles of Faith cards; buttons with their pictures on them; and Frisbees carrying the message “‘The Sounds of Friendship’ (The Mormons), Logan, Utah, USA.” The “Sounds” concluded their tour by taping a full-length show for Rumanian television, the first American group to do so. Director of the group, James Bradley, organized the “Sounds of Zion” 22 years ago with the purpose of forming an organization that could radiate the gospel in song and dance. He summed up the most recent trip by saying, “To me, it is almost a miracle to overcome so many difficulties and still be so effective. When the gospel doors are opened into Rumania and Bulgaria, I feel there will be many people who will welcome the missionaries with open arms.”

Perhaps you will recognize yourself and recall your memories of youth as I share with you, with the permission of my wife, an experience I had when I was a young man in school and there was this young lady who caused a strange feeling within me. I cannot recall exactly how she looked or what kind of character she really had, but there she was. Just being in the same room with her made me so nervous and so helpless that I could hardly speak and hardly breathe for fear of making a fool of myself. My feelings for her were so tender that I could hardly avoid thinking of her. It seemed that in everything that I was doing, she was in my thoughts. What could I do to please her? Or even to save her life in giving my blood? What a wonderful way from our Heavenly Father—to be allowed to experience in the age of our tender youth the purity and strength of what divine love is made of!

After a year of experiencing these feelings and not being able to endure her presence and not even being able to speak to her out of nervousness, I was finally courageous enough at Christmastime to write her a very brief letter. As these were times of starvation in Germany and goodies were hard to come by, I saved the special treats I received for Christmas, overcoming my own craving for them in order to keep them as a present or a gift to her if she would answer my letter. But she never did! After three weeks of waiting in vain, I found myself back with my feet on the ground, and I devoured all the goodies in one quick action and brushed off the feelings for her that I had. It is interesting to note that as I found myself with my feet on the ground without this tender feeling, the desire and willingness to sacrifice or to go the extra mile for her sake also vanished. I often think that it was good that she did not write back so the way could be preserved for me to find my faithful, wonderful companion who is with me today.

The Prophet Joseph Smith was a tall, strong man. He grew up on a farm and spent many hours clearing the land and planting crops with his father and brothers.
The Prophet loved spending time with young people. One of his favorite activities was wrestling. In those days, wrestling consisted mostly of trying to throw your opponent off balance.
One day Joseph noticed a crowd of enthusiastic young men and boys. When he got closer, he saw that they were wrestling. He decided to join them.
There was one especially large fellow who seemed to be the champion. He was proud of the fact that no one had thrown him, and he was eager to wrestle the Prophet.
The match had scarcely begun when the champion found himself being carried by his collar and the seat of his pants to a nearby ditch, where Joseph dropped him.
As the crowd yelled and cheered, Joseph helped the young man to his feet, patted him on his back, and said, “You must not mind this. When I am with the boys, I make all the fun I can for them.”
Although he was the first President of the Church and a very busy man, Joseph Smith knew that taking time to be friendly with others was important.

“Once there was and twice there wasn’t a Turkish sultan who loved to eat. …” And so the story unwinds as you read of the gluttonous sultan who eats soup and rice and yogurt and bread and who daily weighs himself. He finds that he is “finally growing to be a fine figure of a ruler.” Soon the sultan doesn’t fit into his clothing and finally can’t fit into his bathtub. He diets. As the physicians try to cure the sultan of fatness, each fails and is sent to prison. Then the hamal arrives. (A hamal in Turkey, even today, is a public porter who can carry incredible loads.) In this Turkish folk tale it is the hamal who has straightforward answers to the sultan’s problems, and these make the story delightful!

President Thomas S. Monson: My wife and I were with him at a regional conference in Las Vegas. After a long Saturday of meetings that concluded about 9:00 p.m., my wife and I decided to go see some famous impressionist paintings that were being exhibited in one of the hotels before retiring. We were tired and could not imagine how tired President Monson must be after speaking and presiding in all those meetings. The next morning I sat by President Monson in the Sunday meeting. He handed me a thank you note he had just received. This was a note from a sister thanking him for visiting her aging mother in a nursing home the previous evening after 9:00 p.m. We went to entertain ourselves, and he went to a nursing home. That was a lesson in charity I will never forget.

Old Jerusalem.
Narrow streets—barely wider than alleys—are crowded with people from all over the world: tourists in shorts and sunglasses, priests wearing vestments of various religious orders, young soldiers carrying machine guns, Jewish men and boys wearing skullcaps, and Arabs in flowing robes and shepherd headwear. Some women are dressed in shawls and veils; others are wearing business suits. Little children are darting through the crowd.
As we make our way through the souk (marketplace), the sound of bargaining is everywhere. And the choices are overwhelming. Shopkeepers advertise their goods by lining them out in the street in front of their stores. Wicker baskets are filled with nuts, fruits, and vegetables. Long embroidered dresses hang from overhead. Shelves are filled with religious statues carved from olive wood. There are rows and rows of brass cookware, copper and silver trays, glazed Armenian ceramics, and Persian jugs. And there is an endless array of gold and silver jewelry, sheepskin and leather coats, and exotic oriental rugs.
Someone is making falafel (a fried mixture of spicy ground vegetables); someone else is roasting shish kebab; the smell of fresh bread mingles with the aroma of strange spices. Merchants stand at their doors and invite us inside. Music from various cultures blares from radios.
My wife, Mary, and I stop in a small shop that sells religious items significant to Christians, Jews, and Muslims. As we browse, the shopkeeper—a short, thin Arab man—explains the meaning and use of several items. And he tells us about the Koran.
We decide on our purchase and begin the expected ritual of bargaining on the price. Hoping we’ve settled on a fair amount, we hand the man several crisp, new bills.
He counts them out and surprises us by handing one back.
“You gave me too much,” he explains. The new bills had stuck together. We had overpaid him.
“Thank you,” Mary says. “We appreciate your honesty.”
“Oh, I’m not being honest for you,” the man replies. “I’m being honest for me and my household. I will not buy food for my family with dishonest money!”
As we return to the noisy, crowded street, we realize that we got more than we bargained for—the memory of an Arab friend who wouldn’t sell himself for a crisp, new dollar bill.

As I sit here today I am reminded of an invitation I received 15 years ago. It was from a good friend of mine who was attending school here. He asked me to come and visit him for two weeks while I was on break from my school. I didn't feel like I had the time or the money and struggled with the decision. As I thought about it I mentioned it to my Dad one morning. He simply said, Go, it could change your whole life. I was surprised by his answer but when I heard those words I felt a deep impression that they were true. So I came and as a result fell immediately in love with this place. So much so that I didn't want to leave when my two weeks were up, but knew that I had to. So I did, with a prayer in my heart that some day He would allow me the blessing of returning to stay and be a permanent part of this wonderful university and place. I mean it when I say, I am truly grateful for the opportunity to be here today.

When President Gordon B. Hinckley spoke to the Saints of Ghana in 1998, Adjoa Darkoa Asare-Addo, 11, was present. She stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” with undisguised joy. “The Holy Spirit was with me, and I knew that President Hinckley was a prophet of God,” she recalls.
When President Hinckley announced that a temple would be built in Accra, Adjoa was thrilled. “Temples are so important!” she explains. “That is where families are sealed forever.” She intends to be married in that temple someday.

When Cathy Gurley was young, she had a dream. More than anything else, she wanted to be Miss Rosewood, queen of her school. Her goal was to be someone that the other students at the school would look to as an example. So she practiced dancing and singing, talents she thought would help her win the contest.
When she was a senior in high school, Cathy was voted Miss Rosewood in the town of Goldsboro, North Carolina. Then she started winning other contests, like the district FHA Sweetheart, and queen of the Wayne County Fireman’s Pageant, and eventually Miss North Carolina Teen Hemisphere.
But on her way to those recognitions, Cathy became a real winner when she developed another talent. It wouldn’t help her win a contest, but it helped her win friends and lift the spirits of people who needed help. Cathy learned how to care about other people.
“I really enjoy helping people,” said Cathy. “When I smile, I like to see them smile back. And so many people need someone to help them.”
Cathy has been helping people—the elderly, the retarded, the handicapped. She’s spent hundreds of hours visiting her friends at rest homes, singing at dances for retarded people, visiting at a center for severely retarded people, adopting a grandparent, helping her mother teach a Sunday School class for the retarded, and being a friend to people who are too often friendless. Cathy’s mom gave her encouragement along the way and helped organize many of the parties where Cathy performed.
“My older brother Bobby is retarded, so it’s natural that I’d associate with other retarded children,” said Cathy. “I couldn’t ask for a better brother. He’s seven years older than I am, and I was born on his birthday. He’s always said that I was his birthday present. We’ve been very close.”
Cathy would go to parties for her brother Bobby and his friends and sing for them. “I’ve always wanted to be an entertainer, so it was fun for me. They don’t care how bad you sing. They appreciate even small things. The rest of us need to be more like they are.”
Cathy’s mother worked in rest homes when Cathy was little and sometimes had to work on holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. “I wanted her to understand why I couldn’t be at home, so I’d bring her to the rest homes with me on those holidays,” said Sister Gurley.
“She’d leave me and go talk to the people. Cathy has never been afraid of a retarded or elderly or handicapped person, maybe because she was brought up around them.”
Growing up with her brother also helped Cathy develop sensitivity to others. Her mother said, “I’d come home from work tired, and Bobby would say he wanted to go meet his friends. I’d tell him I was just too tired and couldn’t get him dressed. Then Cathy would say, ‘If I dress him and get him ready to go, would you take him?’
“Christ told us we need to become like little children. So many of these people have that sweetness like little children. They never hold a grudge or lash out at people,” added Sister Gurley.
Cathy has also spent many hours helping at rest homes. “I guess because I was so close to my grandparents and my mother is a nurse, it was easy for me to volunteer my time,” said Cathy. “My Aunt Mamie worked as a recreation specialist at a rest home when I was 11, so she’d ask me and my cousin to go over there and help. We’d spend the whole day. We’d play bingo with the people. I’d help roll them in their wheelchairs out into the middle of the halls for supper, deliver the mail, read to them if they needed it, and just talk.”
Eventually, Cathy “adopted” a grandfather, a friend of her grandmother.
“My grandfather died when I was very young, so my grandmother started dating Waldo,” said Cathy. “They’d come out to my house to visit, and I enjoyed his friendship. When my grandmother died, he sort of got out of circulation and didn’t have any companionship. My grandmother had more or less taken care of him and fixed him supper each day. So Waldo and I kept in touch, and I decided to adopt him. I’d call and see how he was doing, stop by to see him, visit him on holidays, and take him treats. Now he’s in a rest home, and we keep in close touch.”
Cathy has helped with a Sunday School class for the handicapped, too, held in her home after regular church meetings. The first hour of the class the students learn about the scriptures, and the second hour they do crafts. Cathy often makes cookies or cupcakes for them. She also found time to organize a drill team for grade school girls.
Cathy has always found time to accomplish her goals. She has helped with political campaigns and even served as a page in her state legislature. She attended seminary for four years. (“It really helped me gain a testimony,” said Cathy.) She took modeling classes for several years, and her teacher encouraged her to enter the Miss Teen North Carolina Hemisphere competition.
“I won the state competition, so I competed in the nationals, which were held in Philadelphia and included the western hemisphere—Guam, Canada, the U.S., and the Bahamas,” Cathy said.
“I learned that it wasn’t that important to be beautiful. I just wanted to put on my jeans and be myself, but for 24 hours a day I was there fixing my hair and putting on lipstick, and I’m just not used to doing that much. You couldn’t go out of your door unless you were all dressed up, and that’s just not for me.
“I really enjoyed entertaining others for the competition, though, and it helped me develop a talent I didn’t think I had. I’d always taken ballet, but I realized I needed another talent to win the state competition. I told my mom, ‘I’ve got to sing!’ She smiled and said, ‘You can’t sing.’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m just going to have to learn.’ So I took lessons and practiced, and I won the contest. I realize now that I can sing and not be embarrassed. I met some nice people in the pageant, too.”
She also realized that she was an example to a lot of her friends. “Lots of times at high school I wouldn’t go to parties because I knew there would be drinking. Everybody would go, and I would sit home. It wasn’t always easy, but it was the right thing.
“Then some of my friends would tell me things like ‘I really don’t enjoy drinking, and I don’t know why I do. I wish I had the courage to say no.’ They’d see me and realize that they didn’t have to drink. It’s important to do what you know is right.”
In the Gurley’s front room, Cathy’s trophies are displayed. She’s won awards for most valuable cheerleader, most valuable model at her modeling school, FHA Sweetheart, and first-place in beauty, talent, modeling, and most photogenic for North Carolina Teen Hemisphere.
But she doesn’t need a trophy for the things that are most important to her. She carries those qualities around with her every day.
The Savior said, “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another” (John 13:34).
That’s another goal that Cathy’s working toward.

There is a picture of another girl in that yearbook. She was not particularly beautiful. But she had a wholesome look about her, a sparkle in her eyes, and a smile on her face. She knew why she was in school. She was there to learn. She dreamed of the kind of woman she wanted to be and patterned her life accordingly.

She also knew how to have fun, but knew when to stop and put her mind on other things.

There was a boy in school at the time. He had come from a small rural town. He had very little money. He brought lunch in a brown paper bag. He looked a little like the farm from which he had come. There was nothing especially handsome or dashing about him. He was a good student. He had set a goal for himself. It was lofty and, at times, appeared almost impossible of attainment.

These two fell in love. People said, “What does he see in her?” Or, “What does she see in him?” They each saw something wonderful which no one else saw.

Upon graduating from the university, they married. They scrimped and worked. Money was hard to come by. He went on to graduate school. She continued to work for a time, and then their children came. She gave her attention to them.

A few years ago, I was riding a plane home from the East. It was late at night. I walked down the aisle in the semidarkness. I saw a woman asleep with her head on the shoulder of her husband. She awakened as I approached. I immediately recognized the girl I had known in high school so long before. I recognized the boy I had also known. They were now approaching old age. As we talked, she explained that their children were grown, that they were grandparents. She proudly told me that they were returning from the East, where he had gone to deliver a paper. There at a great convention he had been honored by his peers from across the nation.

I learned that they had been active in the Church, serving in whatever capacity they were asked to serve. By every measure, they were successful. They had accomplished the goals which they had set for themselves. They had been honored and respected and had made a tremendous contribution to the society of which they were a part. She had become the woman of whom she had dreamed. She had exceeded that dream.

As I returned to my seat on the plane, I thought of those two girls of whom I have spoken to you tonight. The life of the one had been spelled out in a three-letter word: F–U–N. It had been lived aimlessly, without stability, without contribution to society, without ambition. It had ended in misery and pain and early death.

The life of the other had been difficult. It had meant scrimping and saving. It had meant working and struggling to keep going. It had meant simple food and plain clothing and a very modest apartment in the years of her husband’s initial effort to get started in his profession. But out of that seemingly sterile soil there had grown a plant, yes, two plants, side by side, that blossomed and bloomed in a beautiful and wonderful way.

Those beautiful blossoms spoke of service to fellowmen, of unselfishness one to another, of love and respect and faith in one’s companion, of happiness as they met the needs of others in the various activities which they pursued.

As I pondered the conversation with these two, I determined within myself to do a little better, to be a little more dedicated, to set my sights a little higher, to love my wife a little more dearly, to help her and treasure her and look after her.

One day, when I was 13 or 14 years old, I went to the grocery store that was a couple of blocks from my school. The store had spectacular ice cream, and my classmates and I went there often during our lunch hour to get double-decker ice-cream cones.
One day when we had our ice-cream cones, I looked down at my feet and saw a $10 bill lying on the floor. A U.S. $10 bill more than 50 years ago was really something to a young man. Satan tried to tempt me with “Think what you could do with this $10 bill.”
Because of the teachings of my parents, I didn’t listen. I took the money over to the cashier and told her I found it on the floor. She said, “Well, you are an honest young man. Let me write your name on this note, and if someone doesn’t claim this $10 bill, I will see that you get it back.”
I left it with her. That afternoon a young man came in to see if she had seen a $10 bill. She said, “Yes, and here is the fellow’s name who found the money.”
This boy looked me up to thank me, and we became close friends.
But that is just the start of the story. Because of our friendship and his good feeling toward me, he introduced me to his family. As the children in the family grew up and married, I became a good friend with their families as well. And over a lifetime, I have been a close friend to 10 or 12 families just because of that $10 bill. I have been in their homes. As a bishop, I have interviewed some of their children. I have been invited to temple weddings and other family occasions during the past 50 years. I have enjoyed great friendships, not only with those kids but also with their parents over that time. They are a wonderful family.
I am grateful that I wasn’t really tempted to keep that $10 bill, because my wonderful father and mother taught me the principle of honesty. I am grateful for the blessings that have come to me throughout my life from being honest—honesty has opened many doors. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to look people in the eye and say, “I have always tried to be honest.”
I have talked to my own nine children about being honest. I told them that when you see a $10 bill, you really don’t know how much it is worth. It has a face value, but my friendship with that family is worth more than a fortune. They are such a blessing in my life.

We can also content ourselves with inferior standards that initially appear to be acceptable until exposed to the test of time. An example from my own life illustrates what I mean.
Our family home had a lawn at the rear with flower borders and was enclosed with a six - foot high wooden fence which was painted white. Over time the painted surface began to deteriorate, losing its luster and peeling off in some places. A green powdery fungi also appeared in several areas. I decided that the fence needed attention.
Working on three sections initially, I first scraped and sanded the old paint, exposing the bare wood. Then I applied a wood primer, an undercoat of paint, and finally a finishing coat. The result was impressive but the exercise had taken a considerable time to complete, and I still had twelve more sections to work on. I decided the task would take more time than I could dedicate to the project, unless I could find a way to accomplish the work more quickly. So. Rather than scrape all the paint off, as I had on the first three sections, I determined to simply brush away the particles of grime, fungi and flaking paint, then smooth the surface with sandpaper before applying a single coat of paint. Initially, the finished result looked comparable to the first three sections, and I was satisfied with my efforts.
Six weeks later the paint began to flake, and the fungi reappeared on the sections of the fence which had not been given sufficient time and preparation. The first three sections that I had properly prepared, however, retained a pleasing, satiny, finished look.
We may elect to accept the easy option now and then look back in future years regretting that we had not made the extra effort and chosen to take the high road in our endeavors.

Michael and Logan had been best friends since nursery. They liked to compete. Michael was taller, but Logan was three weeks older. They raced to see who could run the fastest. They jumped on the trampoline to see who could jump the longest. They held their breath underwater in the neighborhood pool. Sometimes Michael won, and sometimes Logan won. Sometimes they would get angry at each other.
“I’m the tallest!” Michael would yell.
“Well, I’m the oldest!” Logan would yell back.
But they always said they were sorry and forgave each other.
When Michael and Logan were in CTR 6 class, their ward boundaries were changed. They had to go to different Primaries.
When Sunday came, Michael didn’t want to go to church. He was upset that his best friend was going to a different ward. When Mom tried to help him put on his white shirt, he ran away. He hid under the kitchen table, behind the couch, and under his bed, but Mom found him every time.
“I don’t want to go to church!” Michael said while Mom helped him put on his shirt and tie. “Logan won’t be there! I bet my class only has girls in it!”
“Michael, you know we always go to church,” Mom said. “We need to learn what Heavenly Father wants us to do so we can be like Jesus Christ. You want to be like Jesus, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Michael muttered. He wanted to choose the right so he could live with Heavenly Father someday. But he knew he wouldn’t be as happy at church without his friend.
Michael sulked during the car ride to church and all through sacrament meeting. He glared at his older sisters, who sat quietly in their seats. When the ward boundaries changed, they got to keep their friends. Michael thought about pinching them so they would be angry too, but he decided he didn’t want to get in trouble.
When Michael walked into his new Primary class, he sighed. It was full of girls. There was not one other boy in his class. The girls giggled and chatted with each other. Michael sat at the end of the row and scowled. He knew he wouldn’t make any friends today.
One of the girls leaned over to him. “Hi, I’m Stephanie,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Michael,” Michael muttered. He didn’t want to make friends with a girl. He knew no girl could be as good a friend as Logan.
“I’m having a birthday party this week,” Stephanie said. “You should come. It’s going to be a pool party.”
Michael hesitated. He loved swimming. Maybe he could be friends with a girl. “OK,” he said. “If my mom says it’s OK.”
“And I’m going to have a piñata shaped like a dinosaur,” Stephanie said.
“Dinosaurs are my favorite!” Michael was surprised. His sisters didn’t like cool things like dinosaurs. But this girl seemed all right.
Michael and Stephanie talked about dinosaurs until the lesson started.
After church, Michael ran to meet his mom. “Mom! I got invited to a birthday party, and there’s going to be swimming and a dinosaur piñata!”
“I’m glad you made a new friend,” Mom said. “What’s his name?”
“Stephanie,” Michael said. “I told you my class would be full of girls. But she’s all right. Logan is still my best friend, but I think Stephanie will be a good friend too.”

Caleb grabbed his shovel. It was time to work in the garden!
He helped Mom carry the tools. There was a little rake. And there was a shovel for Mom too. They were ready to start working.
Mom and Caleb walked to the garden. Oh no! It was full of weeds! There were short, spiky weeds. And there were tall, wispy weeds. So many weeds!
But Caleb knew what to do. He got right to work. Caleb dug under the weeds. Then Mom pulled the weeds out of the dirt. They made a great team! Soon they had a giant pile of weeds.
It was time for a break. Caleb took a big drink of water.
“What are we going to do when the weeds are gone?” Caleb asked.
Mom brushed some dirt off her hands. “Once the weeds are gone, we can plant seeds. Like tomatoes and beans and—”
“And corn?” Caleb asked. He loved corn.
“And corn,” Mom said. “We can’t forget that!”
Caleb stood up. “OK. Let’s get back to work.” He picked up his shovel. He needed to make room for corn plants.
Caleb dug and dug. It was hard work. But Caleb was a hard worker. He could do hard things. Together, he and Mom made another pile of weeds. Then another. Then another. So many weeds!
Finally Caleb and Mom had pulled out all the weeds. Caleb flopped down on the grass. He was so tired! Mom flopped down next to him.
“You are such a hard worker,” Mom said. “Those weeds would have taken me all day. You made it fast and fun.”
Caleb smiled big. He was a hard worker. “It’s good when we work together.”