Gospel Story Finder

The chute burst open and a raging, bucking bronco leaped high into the air. A cowboy sat atop, in perfect form, his spurs above the point of the shoulders, the rhythm of each move matched to the twisting and turning of the wild horse.
But then the crowd rose to its feet and gasped as the massive animal came crashing down on its side, all of its weight crushing the left foot of its rider.
Zane Davis picked himself up and hobbled over to the chute. When he got his boot off, the foot began to swell. The crushed bones eliminated his chances to continue in the competition, but that didn’t keep Zane down.
Less than a month later he was back in the saddle, working his way to the title as top college rodeo rider in the United States.
Now Zane is serving a mission in Brazil and teaching the gospel to people in Portuguese. And he says, “I wouldn’t trade this mission experience for anything—even a national professional rodeo championship.”
It was in June of 1990 that Zane Davis secured the award as the national collegiate all-around cowboy of the year in the College National Finals Rodeo in Bozeman, Montana. Although only a freshman at the College of Southern Idaho, Zane didn’t get to the number one spot by simply riding a few wild horses and winning a few competitions. Zane’s training started before he could walk, when his father, Shawn Davis (a three-time National Finals Rodeo saddle bronc world champion), took him along to rodeos across North America.
At the age of three, Zane insisted that he be allowed to ride in the rodeo against the 8–12-year-old cowboys, but since he was underage, he was only allowed to ride exhibition. Undaunted, he put on his hat, boots, rope, and spurs, and climbed aboard a cranky calf. Zane says that the next thing he knew he was on the ground and a clown was standing over him fanning him with a giant fly swatter. Apparently, he had ridden the calf almost to the whistle before falling off.
He entered his next rodeo when he was only five, and this time a pony bucked him off. But he still walked away with third-place honors. Hundreds of rodeos later, Zane had accumulated an impressive array of saddles, belt buckles, trophies, and cash prizes. The success came as a result of hard work.
Each day at his parents’ ranch in Wyoming, Zane’s exercise routine included 80 sit-ups, 20 pull-ups, and 400 push-ups. In addition, his riding included roping 10 to 20 calves and practicing once a week for each riding event. Also, before each rodeo, Zane asked his father for a father’s blessing. Zane says, “I feel that these blessings kept me from getting injured on many occasions, and when I was injured, I recovered remarkably fast.”
Zane adds that obeying the Word of Wisdom has been a great blessing in his life. “Other cowboys who drink and do drugs may be good for a very short time, but they never last long,” he says.
Another reason Zane has done so well is because he has learned to face challenges. At one rodeo he drew a bull that had thrown all the college kids off who had tried to ride it. But Zane, at only 13, got on the bull and rode him three out of five attempts. “I don’t remember ever being really frightened at a rodeo,” said Zane. “A little fear is always good for you, but too much fear is not good. If you have a little fear you plan a little better. If you have too much fear you may get out of control.”
One of the hardest decisions Zane ever had to face was whether or not to go on a mission. He had colleges all over the nation soliciting him, and although he had always planned on a mission, the final decision was really hard. “But I decided I had to go on a mission to try to pay the Lord back for some of the many blessings I have received,” he said.
Zane recently wrote from his mission and said, “I’ve learned many things. I’ve changed a lot. I thought riding three head of stock at each rodeo all summer long was tough, but it wasn’t anything as tough as serving a mission; nevertheless, it has been good for me.”
In his life, Zane Davis has ridden a thousand wild horses, roped a thousand more calves. Rodeo became easy to him, second nature. But perhaps the best thing about the sport was the chance to be with his father. Shawn was always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.
A mission in Brazil has not been as easy. There have been problems learning the language and culture. But Zane is improving daily. And, best of all, his Father in Heaven is always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.

I also understand Joseph Smith’s wanting to be alone as he prayed. On another occasion a few years later, I was in a similar situation, this time with a young man I didn’t know. I was nervous about praying in front of him, so I waited for him to go to bed so I could kneel and pray without him watching me.
But he wouldn’t go to bed, so I finally knelt and prayed and got into my sleeping bag. When he got into bed a few minutes later, he said, “Lynn, do you always pray like that?”
“Yes, I try to. If I ever hurry and get into bed forgetting to pray, I get out of bed and kneel and pray.”
He said, “I should do that.”

I am thrilled when I hear the many stories of deacons quorum presidents who have caught the vision and occasionally are teaching all or part of the lesson in their quorum meetings. Several weeks ago I attended a deacons quorum class. A 12-year-old boy gave a 25-minute lesson on the Atonement. He commenced by asking his fellow deacons what they thought the Atonement was. Then he shared some meaningful scriptures and asked thoughtful questions, to which they responded. Realizing, however, there was more time than remaining lesson material, he had enough presence of mind and perhaps some forewarning from his father to ask the leaders who were present what questions they had been asked about the Atonement on their missions and their responses. He then concluded with his testimony. I listened in awe. I thought to myself, “I don’t recall ever giving a significant part of a lesson when I was an Aaronic Priesthood youth.” We can raise the bar and vision for these young men, and they will respond.

Most of the food boxes and gifts were delivered by hospice employees, but a few were given to the youth to deliver on Mutual night. Bundled in coats and singing carols, they carried food boxes, trees, and cards to a few of the people they had been able to serve in July. Of course it was a lot colder that night than it had been during the summer, but the warm feelings that come with service are the same no matter what time of year it is.

“Delivering the gifts and seeing how happy it made people was a lot of fun,” says Joe Jones, a priest. “It was also great to see how our service during youth conference really paid off.”

About 20 years ago a new dream entered my consciousness. It is ongoing and is concerned with noninvasive medical treatments. At the time, my father in his seventies underwent open-heart surgery. I learned that the operation consisted of a large incision from his throat to his midsection followed by the cutting of his sternum with a saw that allowed doctors to open his chest, connect his blood supply to a machine, stop the heart, and perform bypass surgery. Following the operation I stood in the intensive care unit and touched my father’s body as they wheeled him to a recovery room. The body was cool and, in some ways, reminded me of a corpse. I had a sense of the trauma that had taken place. From that day onward I have dreamed of less-invasive methods to solve medical problems.

To conclude, I’d like to share one final story. A few years ago, I had an experience that served as a wake-up call about how important it is to be spiritually prepared. Some employees will remember this too. It was January of 2018 when all of the phones on the island went off with a loud emergency sound and message that said: “Emergency Alert: Ballistic Missile Threat Inbound to Hawaii. Seek Immediate Shelter. This Is Not a Drill.”

In that moment, I wasn’t worried about my to-do list, the emails in my inbox, or the projects I had going on at work. My thoughts went immediately to my family and to my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I felt at peace because I knew my family knew I loved them. And I knew that I would be together with my family again after I left this earth.

President Nelson has reminded us that mortality is precious and short. Although that alert was sent in error, that morning, I learned in a very real way that we don’t know how many days we have left. But we do know that Heavenly Father yearns for us to use whatever days we are given to grow into our highest potential as His sons and His daughters.

The choppy waters of the North Sea gently rocked the Speedwell anchored at Delfshaven, Holland. Crowding the ship’s deck were the passengers, along with their families and friends who had come to say good-bye.
Roger gathered his little sister Ellen into his arms. “Be happy that you are going to America,” he said. Ellen wrapped her arms around his neck, and her tears wet his cheek. Releasing herself, she ran to her parents, Kathrine and Edward Howard.
“Oh, Papa! Mama!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to go away and leave my sister and brother behind.”
“Don’t worry, little sister,” Sarah said, comforting her. “Roger and I will come to America before long. Just wait and see. And remember, Ellen, although you’re almost the littlest Pilgrim on board, you must be brave, because you’re going to a brave new world.”
“Sarah, why are Pilgrims so poor?” Ellen asked. “If we were rich enough, our whole family could go to America. Then I wouldn’t feel so awful.”
“Come on, Ellen, dry your tears. I’ll tell you what—let’s play one more game of pretend before you go. Let’s pretend that I have lots of bags of gold,” suggested Sarah.
Ellen liked to play pretend with Sarah. “What are you going to do with lots of bags of gold?” she asked.
“I’m going to buy a whole fleet of ships. I’ll tell all the Pilgrims to get aboard, and I’ll take them across the ocean where they can never be persecuted again.” Sarah’s smile broadened. “Better still, let’s pretend that I’m a genie. I’ll wrap a magic web around King James, and I’ll say, ‘Aye, Your Majesty, you’re going to be banished to a faraway island where you can never rant and rave and thunder at people or throw them into prison or hang them or clap them into the stocks again. Never again will you tell people how to worship, for they will belong to any church they like.’ And then I’ll sit and watch while he flies into a rage. His beard will bristle, and his face will turn red. Then he’ll spin off into the air to an island of peacocks and apes.”
As Ellen giggled, Sarah hugged her and said, “See, it’s better to laugh than to cry.”
Edward Howard had gone down the plank for one more piece of equipment. When Ellen saw him returning with a strange, heavy load, she asked, “Papa, why are you bringing that big iron screw clamp onto the ship?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied, “but something tells me we’re going to need it.” Papa had worked at the docks for the twelve years they’d been in Holland; he understood about ships.
Sarah and Roger were small when their parents had fled from England to Holland with a group of Separatists, or Pilgrims, but they still remembered the persecutions of King James I. Ellen had been born in Holland, and she loved it because it was home to her. The Dutch people were good to the Pilgrims, allowing them to worship as they pleased. But now the Pilgrim children were speaking mostly Dutch, and the older ones were marrying into Dutch families.
“No one would ever know you’re a little English girl,” Mama once said to Ellen.
“We need to find a country of our own,” Papa declared.
In church on Sundays Ellen bowed her head and listened to Elder Brewster pray. He always thanked Heavenly Father for the kindness the Dutch people had shown them, but lately he had been adding, “Please don’t let us lose our English heritage. Guide us to a land where we can worship as we desire and where we can bring up our children as Englishmen.”
Finally, the prayers were answered, and everyone knew that America was to be their land of promise. A London company agreed to pay their passage there in return for furs, fish, and lumber from America. A patent was given them to settle in the northern part of the Virginia colony. What the Pilgrims didn’t know was that the settlers in Virginia were still bound to the Anglican Church, because King James was not interested in granting freedom of worship to any of his subjects anywhere. However, the king was very interested in the wealth that the English emigrants would send back to England from America.
Since not everyone could go to America at once, it was agreed that Elder Brewster would go with the first group. Pastor John Robinson would remain with those who planned to come later.
So on a July morning in 1620, the emigrants gathered on the deck of the Speedwell and knelt with Pastor Robinson. He stretched his hands toward heaven and, with tears streaming down his cheeks, commended them to the Lord. Then he disembarked.
The people on shore were also crying as they watched the departing ship. Aboard the Speedwell, the rails were crowded with excited, heavyhearted passengers frantically waving a last farewell to those still lining the quay. Ellen waved at Sarah and Roger until they were finally lost from view.
They sailed for England where the Mayflower awaited them. From there the two ships started for America but had to turn back when the Speedwell began leaking badly. The passengers on the Speedwell had to board the Mayflower. Finally the Mayflower, with 102 passengers and its crew, set sail for America on September 16, 1620. Of these voyagers, only thirty-five were Pilgrims. The others were either members of the Anglican Church or strangers and had no intention of changing their religion.
Master Christopher Jones was a rough seadog, as sea captains sometimes had to be. He was also good and kind. He loved his stout, chunky Mayflower and said of her, “Aye, she is apple-cheeked, double-decked, and a fine, sweet ship.”
Closely packed below deck were the stores and livestock of the colony—goats, swine, poultry, bread, butter, cheese, eggs, fish, vegetables, clothing, books, cooking utensils, farm implements, muskets, armor, cannon, and goods for trade with the Indians. The ship’s cargo was so heavy that she rode very low in the sea.
While the Mayflower skimmed westward with the breeze in her sails, Ellen played on deck with four-year-old Mary Allerton, the youngest passenger on board.
“Mary,” Ellen said, “shall we play pretend?”
“How do we play pretend?” Mary asked.
“Well, first, you make believe you’re my sister. Now I need to find a brother. Let me see … John Howland will be just right.” Walking briskly up to him, she said, “Ahoy, mate. A jolly good day it is.”
“Righto!” replied John, grinning. “That it is.”
“Aye, and a jolly good day for pretending,” Ellen added. “Would you like to pretend you’re my brother?”
“I’d like that very much,” the boy answered.
“Then it’s all settled. We are a family. Families stick together on ocean voyages and help each other.” Pretending helped ease Ellen’s homesick longing for Sarah and Roger.
One day a gale came shrieking out of the north. It tugged at the rigging, and the ship strained and groaned. Below deck, the passengers huddled together and comforted each other.
Clinging to her father, Ellen cried, “Papa, is the ship going to sink?”
“No,” he replied. “The Lord wants us to arrive in America.”
“How do you know, Papa?”
“Because He saved us once before when we fled from England and were driven by storms on the North Sea. When the water washed over us, the mariners cried out, ‘We sink! We sink!’ With divine faith, Elder Brewster cried, ‘Yet, Lord, thou canst save!’ The ship recovered, the violent storm ceased, and the Lord filled our minds with much comfort.”
Just then a wall of water lashed across the deck of the Mayflower. Wood cracked and splintered, and the main beam buckled, pulling deck boards with it. Water seeped through to the lower deck.
Cries of terror went up. “The ship is sinking!” a seaman cried.
“Brewster,” a stranger sneered, “I’ve heard about the miracle on the North Sea. See if your prayers can save us now.”
Elder Brewster looked the man in the eye and said, “We know for a certainty the Lord can save. But right now we need to combine work with faith. Come, let’s be up on deck.”
Strong and lusty seamen were struggling against the winds and the waves. The passengers ran to help them push boards against the fractured beam, trying vainly to press it up and together again.
“This iron muscle will help!” Edward Howard shouted. He came forward carrying the great iron screw clamp he had brought from Holland, and the mast was soon repaired. In gratitude the Pilgrims knelt while Elder Brewster committed them once more to the Lord.
For several days the Mayflower wallowed in the subsiding storm. At the first hint of sunshine, Ellen tugged at John Howland’s hand. “I need you to walk on deck with me,” she said.
“All right, little sister, we both need the fresh air.”
On the upper deck, Ellen admiringly patted the main beam so securely mended with her father’s clamp. At that moment a capricious wave sloshed over the deck, and John was washed overboard. Clinging to the mast, Ellen screamed and screamed. Swiftly sailors came. Miraculously John had caught hold of the topsail halyard (rope) that was dangling over the side. The halyard ran out at length, but John held on tightly, and the sailors hauled him in.
Relieved, Ellen buried her face in her hands. “Lord, thank Thee for helping John get hold of the halyard,” she whispered.
Waves and wind were gentle at last. Sailors climbed rope ladders up the mainmast and loosed the sails. While the Mayflower sailed smoothly under the stars, the passengers sweetly slept.
When Ellen awoke, she heard the cry of a newborn baby. Her feet swiftly pattered past the cabin doors until she came to the bedside of Elizabeth Hopkins. Wrapped in a blanket beside her lay the tiny baby. Ellen stared in wonder.
Little Demaris Hopkins grinned and announced, “He’s my brother!”
“Just imagine, Demaris, having a brother born in the middle of the ocean!” Ellen exclaimed.
Steven Hopkins, the baby’s father, patted Ellen on the head. “Guess what we’re going to name him! We’re going to call him Oceanus (Latin word for ocean).”
“Oh, my!” Ellen exclaimed and ran swiftly to tell her mother.
Every day Elder Brewster led the daily prayers, in spite of jeers and complaints. If mighty King James had not intimidated the Pilgrims, however, surely the strangers on board could not.
One of the worst tormenters was a huge, brawny seaman. “Aye, I’ll be burying half of you praying psalm singers at sea,” he taunted. Often he cursed and swore at them bitterly. Then one morning he was stricken. By afternoon he was dead, and his lifeless body was lowered over the side of the ship.
For sixty-six long days and sixty-six long nights, they sailed westward. On the dawn of November 10, 1620, the lookout spied a faint dark line off the starboard bow and raised a cry: “Land, ahoy!” Excitedly the passengers crowded the rail, peering toward the horizon. “Aye, there she is!” Edward shouted. Encircling his wife and little daughter in his arms, he said, “We’re almost home. There is our first glimpse of America.”
All about them people were laughing and crying. As the promised land came closer into view, the Pilgrims burst into songs of joy.
The Mayflower now dropped anchor in Provincetown Harbor, at the tip of Cape Cod. The Pilgrims were heartened, for they had reached the land they had sought so long. But winter was approaching, and they knew they must find a place to settle before the storms came.
A party of men set out to explore the coast. They found a sheltered harbor and a spot where a brook met the sea. There they chose to build their homes. On December 25, they began erecting the first house, and before long the settlement was called Plymouth.
There, through the long, cold winter, the Pilgrims endured hunger and sickness. Many died, but the survivors helped one another and kept their faith.
In the spring, the Pilgrims met the Indians, who taught them how to plant corn and hunt. By autumn the harvest was plentiful, and Governor Bradford proclaimed a day of thanksgiving to the Lord for their blessings.
And so the little girl who had played at pretending with her brother and sister had lived to see her people’s prayers answered. The Pilgrims had found a home where they could worship God in freedom.

When Wilford and his companion reached the mouth of the river, they had to walk through a swamp. The mud and water were knee deep, and every step was hard. Wilford was worried because his knee hurt a lot.
In the middle of the swamp, Wilford sat down on a log. “I can’t walk anymore,” he said.
“I can’t wait,” Henry said. “The sooner I get through this swamp, the sooner I can get to Memphis and take a steamboat home.”
“Aren’t you going to preach the gospel in Tennessee?” Wilford asked.
“No,” Henry said. “I miss my family, and I am worried about them.”
Henry walked away. Wilford sat on the log and watched his companion disappear into the trees. He was alone in the middle of an alligator-infested swamp, and he could not walk. So he prayed.
Wilford asked the Lord to heal his knee. Then he stood up and began to walk. His knee felt fine. With every step, he rejoiced and thanked Heavenly Father for healing his knee.

In the vicinity where I once lived and served, the Church operated a poultry project, staffed primarily by volunteers from the local wards. Most of the time it was an efficiently operated project, supplying to the bishops’ storehouse thousands of fresh eggs and hundreds of pounds of dressed poultry. On a few occasions, however, being volunteer city farmers meant not only blisters on the hands but also frustration of heart and mind.
For instance, I shall ever remember the time we gathered the Aaronic Priesthood young men to give the project a spring-cleaning. Our enthusiastic and energetic throng assembled at the project and in a speedy fashion uprooted, gathered, and burned large quantities of weeds and debris. By the light of the glowing bonfires, we ate hot dogs and congratulated ourselves on a job well done.
However, there was just one disastrous problem. The noise and the fires so disturbed the fragile population of 5,000 laying hens that most of them went into a sudden molt and ceased laying. Thereafter we tolerated a few weeds so that we might produce more eggs.

When a student of mine, whom I will call Dillon, walked into my math class a few years ago, he lit up the room with his smile. He spread this joy and peace to all who worked with him that semester. He made my day. I don't know about other professors, but whenever I run into a former student, I rarely remember the grade they earned, but I always remember how I felt around them. Around Dillon, I felt like a daughter of God.

When Dillon introduced himself that first day, he spoke of his fiancée and their plans after BYU-Idaho. He was full of hope and promise. Now, I did notice that he had a peculiar physical characteristic for one so young. He was bald. I soon found out he had been battling cancer since his mission. That semester, the good news came that he was in remission. I was so happy for him and his future bride. He reminded me of the faith described in Hebrews 11: "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."[5] Dillon's faith in his Savior was strong.

In Hebrews it goes on to share many of the miracles of the Bible which came about by faith. By faith, Noah built an ark. By faith, Enoch did not see death. By faith, Isaac offered up his son. By faith, Sarah bore a child later in life. By faith, Dillon found hope and peace in his journey.

The next semester, I received one of those campus e-mails that none of us likes to read. The e-mail let us know that Dillon had passed away. He had lost his battle here on earth. I didn't understand. He was so good, so faithful. Why didn't the Lord grant him healing? How could one so young and so good be called home so early?

Sometime after Dillon's death, I returned to Hebrews 11. Further on it says that even the faithful are called home and sometimes tortured, mocked, scourged, and imprisoned. And yet in verse 40 of the Joseph Smith Translation for this verse, it states, "God having provided some better things for them through their sufferings, for without sufferings they could not be made perfect." Dillon had not lost his battle. He had won. He had come to know his Savior and lived a life which shared this testimony with all he knew.

The Wadsworths of Panaca, Nevada
Franklin Don Wadsworth was an enterprising young man from Nevada who met a lovely young woman from Salt Lake City by the name of Sylvia Hinckley. They were soon married, and they were blessed with 11 children: seven sons and four daughters. When the youngest son, David, was seven years of age, his lovely mother died suddenly at age 49. Notwithstanding this tragic and untimely loss, the Wadsworth children rallied around their heartbroken father, providing great comfort to him and to each other. Then, just 17 months later, not long after David was baptized, his father died at age 56, leaving eight unmarried children at home.

The relatives counseled together, and it was decided that one uncle and his wife would take some of the children into their home and another uncle and aunt would care for the rest of the children in their home.

At this point the Wadsworth children met in family council, with the oldest son, Franklin Brent, taking charge. The children unanimously agreed that their deceased parents would not want them to be separated and unable to see each other frequently during their formative years. Their parents had taught them to serve one another and to be responsible for one another, so they declined any outside help. The members of the extended family agreed to stand back and let them give it a try.

Lark was in her third year in high school, and the school allowed her to take all of her classes early in the day so she would be home in time to welcome the younger children when they arrived home from school. Valerie was in the process of graduating from college, and she found a job nearby and helped with the younger children for the first year. Scott was a returned missionary, and he worked the family farm and commuted to Cedar City, where he attended college.

All of the children eventually went to college, and all of the sons served missions. When only two children—David, then 14, and Charlotte, then 17— remained living at home, they were invited by their older sister Terry and her husband, Lorell Bleak, to live with their family.

Though Don and Sylvia Wadsworth were snatched from their mortal existence prematurely, they had taught their children by precept and example that true joy comes from loving and serving others and placing the needs of others above their own. Now in postmortality Don and Sylvia claim a rich posterity of 106 grandchildren and 80 great-grandchildren.

We had a missionary in our mission who was particularly devoted and obedient. I said to him one time, “Elder, what is the source of your motivation?”
“Brother Monson,” he replied, “I slept in one morning. As I did so, my mind turned to thoughts of my mother and my father, who are operating a little cleaning establishment, working around the clock to earn sufficient money to support me on a mission. As I thought of my parents performing that strenuous work in my behalf, all signs of laziness left me; and I determined that I had an opportunity to serve the Lord in my behalf and in behalf of my own mother and my own father.”

Many years ago, there was a teenage girl living in Denver, Colorado, with her mom and younger brother. Her parents were divorced and the family was struggling to make ends meet. She was in high school and at a vulnerable age where you feel insecure and may not understand who you are or your potential. She had a good friend that invited her to attend church with her. She accepted the invitation and attended church. She continued to attend church and to participate in the activities. She later agreed to receive the missionary discussions and was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I want to take a little bit of time to focus on the friend who extended the invitation. She was dealing with an ailing family member and probably felt the same insecurities as her friend, but the one thing she did have was the gospel of Jesus Christ in her life. Do you remember how hard it was to be different in high school?

She probably had a lot of the same feelings that we all experience when we extend this type of invitation. I am sure she was a little nervous. She may have worried that it could negatively affect their friendship, but she took courage and extended the invitation. She possessed the light of Christ in her life and she was willing to share it. I am eternally grateful for her willingness to share the gospel with my mother. My siblings, my children, and our future posterity will be eternally grateful for both of these two young women. I am standing here today because of the courage of one young lady that was willing to share her light with my mom to help her navigate her path and for my mom, who recognized and accepted the light into her life. Are you willing to share your light and to make an eternal difference in the life of somebody else?

I am one of those converts. I was converted at 17, when I was a high school student. The missionary who performed my baptism was an Elder Rupp from Idaho. He was recently released as a stake president in Idaho. I have not seen him since I was newly baptized, but I have exchanged e-mails with him and talked to him by telephone. I have never forgotten him. His kind, smiling face is etched into my memory. He was so happy when he learned that I was doing well.
When I was 17, I didn’t really have a good understanding of the messages that the missionaries had been teaching me. However, I had a special feeling about the missionaries, and I wanted to become like them. And I felt their deep and abiding love.
Let me tell you about the day I was baptized. It was July 15, and it was a very hot day. A woman was also baptized that day. The baptismal font had been handmade by the missionaries, and it wasn’t much to look at.
We were confirmed right after we were baptized. First, the sister was confirmed by Elder Lloyd. I sat down with the other members, closed my eyes, and quietly listened. Elder Lloyd confirmed her and then began to pronounce a blessing on her. However, Elder Lloyd stopped talking, so I opened my eyes and looked at him with an intent gaze.
Even today I can clearly remember that scene. Elder Lloyd’s eyes were overflowing with tears. And for the first time in my life, I experienced being enveloped in the Holy Spirit. And through the Holy Spirit I gained a sure knowledge that Elder Lloyd loved us and that God loved us.
Then it was my turn to be confirmed. Again it was Elder Lloyd. He placed his hands on top of my head and confirmed me a member of the Church, bestowed the gift of the Holy Ghost, and then began pronouncing a blessing. And again he stopped talking. However, I now understood what was happening. I truly knew through the Holy Ghost that the missionaries loved me and that God loved me.

Two years ago, when I was 14, I went to visit some relatives in another city in southern Germany. I was traveling alone by train, so I was a bit nervous but also excited. After my visit, I got on the train to go home. It was getting late at night as we approached the station where I was supposed to get off the train. I looked out the window and saw the station, but I suddenly had the feeling that I should stay seated.
Though the train wouldn’t be traveling on (this was the final station), I wanted to get home because it was getting late and I was nervous. But the impression to wait was very distinct. So I did it, though I wondered why.
After a few minutes I finally did get out. I had walked only a short distance when a policeman stopped me and said, “You were lucky. If you had come five minutes earlier, you would have been in the middle of a big fight.”
There had been a soccer game that evening between two archrivals. Some fans of one team had been in the front of the train and some fans of the other team in back. When they had gotten off, a couple of them had started provoking one another, and then everyone had started fighting. I later heard that by the time the police came to break it up, over a dozen people had been injured and taken to the hospital. The police had then blocked everything off and taken all the suspects with them.
One policeman came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, saying, “Wow. If you had been there, we probably could have hauled you off as well.” I realized that if I hadn’t followed that impression, something very bad could have happened to me.
As I went home, I prayed to Heavenly Father and told Him that I was thankful that I had listened to the Holy Ghost and hadn’t gotten off the train. I knew that He had protected me.

I close with another example of a family relationship. At a stake conference in the Midwest about 10 years ago, I met a sister who told me that her nonmember husband had been accompanying her to church for 12 years but had never joined the Church. What should she do? she asked. I counseled her to keep doing all the right things and to be patient and kind with her husband.

About a month later she wrote me as follows: “Well, I thought that the 12 years was a good show of patience, but I didn’t know if I was being very kind about it. So, I practiced real hard for over a month, and he got baptized.”

Kindness is powerful, especially in a family setting. Her letter continued, “I am even trying to be kinder now because we are working on a temple sealing this year!”

Six years later she wrote me another letter: “My husband was [just] called and set apart as the bishop [of our ward].”2

Robin Gallagher has more silver and gold than a lot of the prospectors who hoped to hit it rich back in the big mining days of the 1840s. During three years of competition in various Special Olympics competitions in Ohio, she has collected four gold medals, three silver medals, one bronze medal, and 25 ribbons, as well as a few aching muscles and a lot of satisfaction.
Robin, a member of the East Liverpool Branch, Pennsylvania Pittsburgh Mission, took first place in the 50-yard dash in her age group at the Ohio State Joseph P. Kennedy Special Olympics in 1977. She was one of 14 students chosen to compete from Columbia County. During last summer’s competition at the Columbus State Special Olympics, she again took first place in the 50-yard dash, placed third in the long jump, and raced with a team that achieved second place in the 440-yard relay. In addition to Special Olympics, Robin also enjoys music, sewing, woodworking, and participating in the Young Women program.

In college I was given the privilege of joining a very elect honorary engineering society. As I attended the initiatory activities, everyone was drinking. I asked for a soft drink and was handed a glass. As I raised it to my lips, I could smell alcohol. I looked around the room. All the eyes were on me. These were professionals who had just given me a great honor. Should I pretend to drink so as not to offend? No. I set the glass down and then noticed that three other inductees also set their glasses aside. Do what is right, and others will follow your example. Every time you make the right choice in the face of potential criticism, you build strength that makes it easier the next time. The reverse is also true. Satan counts on that.

Elder Phil and Sister Brenda Frandsen are one such couple. They served in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. In addition to his other responsibilities, Elder Frandsen served as a counselor to the mission president. The following brief interview with the Frandsens illustrates the thoughts and feelings of many couples and may provide insight to those considering missionary service.
Sister Frandsen: “We had always talked about serving a mission after our children were grown. When the time came, it was hard to agree on where we would go and what we would do. After much discussion, Elder Frandsen suggested that we leave the choice up to the Lord. When we received our mission call, it could not have been more exciting. We consider it a very special blessing!”
Elder Frandsen: “Returning after a 44-year absence has been a most rewarding experience. In an area where there was once a tiny branch in a rented building, there now stands a beautiful stake center. An eight-year-old boy I knew then is a devoted stake president now. Progress in this part of the world has been truly marvelous. Every day there is a new spiritual experience as Sister Frandsen and I labor to help individuals gain or strengthen their testimonies.”
Elder Frandsen: “We have been able to use our talents and experiences, and we have discovered talents that we didn’t know we had. I have been able to relearn much of my Chinese. Sister Frandsen can answer the phone in Chinese and is able to read names in order to forward the mail. We feel that learning new skills at our age is good for old brains!”
Sister Frandsen: “I worried about being away from children and grandchildren. However, there are amazing technological advances in communication available to senior missionaries. In some respects, I hear from and see more of our family than we ever did when we were home. We will have at least four grandchildren born while we are here, which we count as one of the greatest blessings of all. Although I will miss holding the newborn babies, we will get to see pictures and videos as soon as each event happens. Rather than taking us away from family, in many ways our mission has brought us closer together.”
Elder Frandsen: “Actually, we feel that we have enlarged our family by going on a mission. We are ‘grandparents’ to the missionaries. Each day we are excited for young missionaries to share their missions with us. We love them—and they love us back! Don’t you enjoy hearing returned missionaries report their experiences of sharing the gospel? We get to hear those experiences every day while they are fresh and largely unedited. Watching the missionaries mature and grow into effective gospel teachers and leaders is priceless!”
Sister Frandsen: “While we have been gone, we have still been doing missionary work back in Arizona. Two of our best friends have invited the missionaries into their homes. Additionally, our daughter and her husband decided to share the gospel with someone. As a result, one of their friends was recently baptized. The more we try to serve, the more blessings we receive. It is impossible to get ahead of the Lord.”
Elder Frandsen: “Missionary work is never boring! There are new challenges and new adventures every day. In addition to our office duties, we teach an English class on Saturday morning and a Gospel Doctrine class on Sunday morning. Twice a week we teach college-preparation English classes for returned missionaries. We are also involved in finding and teaching investigators. Every opportunity for service opens up new doors for teaching the gospel.”
Sister Frandsen: “Perhaps one of my biggest fears was health concerns; instead, we have experienced health blessings. Our missionary schedule is healthful. We get up early, retire early, exercise daily, and eat nutritious foods. The Lord blesses missionaries with strength to perform their labors. You need not be afraid!”
Elder Frandsen: “We sometimes smile when those back home think that we are making a sacrifice. The sacrifice is minuscule compared to the blessings, joy, and satisfaction that God gives us each day.”

I smile a little bit when I hear that now, because there is a fellow about my age that works up at the Church office near me, and he is trying to keep himself physically as well as spiritually fit. So every day he slips over to the Deseret Gym and the other day while he was working out by playing handball—and he is a very vigorous competitor—he reached for a ball that bounced out of the court, trying so hard to recover it that he snapped a hamstring muscle in his right leg. You know that that smarts a little bit.

Grabbing his leg, he hobbled back to the dressing room, showered, and then limped back to Church headquarters in excruciating pain. An elevator arrived, and who but President Kimball should get off? Seeing my friend nursing his limpy leg, he asked, “What’s the matter?”
My friend is kind of quick on the draw, and he replied, “President, I just snapped my hamstring muscle trying to lengthen my stride.” There is a lot to that.