Gospel Story Finder

The Prophet Joseph had to learn many of these valuable lessons, as we will likewise have to do. David Whitmer, a close associate of the Prophet and one of the Three Witnesses for the Book of Mormon, related an enlightening experience which occurred while the prophet was translating the gold plates. These are Brother Whitmer’s words:

“He [Joseph] was a religious and straightforward man. He had to be; for he was illiterate and could do nothing himself. He had to trust in God. He could not translate unless he was humble and possessed the right feelings towards everyone. To illustrate so you can see: One morning when he was getting ready to continue the translation, something went wrong about the house and he was put out about it. Something that Emma, his wife, had done. Oliver and I went upstairs and Joseph came up soon after to continue the translation but he could not do anything. He could not translate a single syllable. He went downstairs, out into the orchard, and made supplication to the Lord; was gone about an hour—came back to the house, and asked Emma’s forgiveness and then came upstairs where we were and then the translation went on all right. He could do nothing save he was humble and faithful.” (Brigham H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, vol. 1, p. 131.)

Getting up early on a Saturday morning to shingle roofs, paint houses, and mow lawns after being soaked in a mountain downpour the day before might deter some people, but not youth from the Alpine Utah Stake.
Nearly 400 youth and 100 leaders and adults joined forces on June 10, 2006, to work on a huge fix-up project as part of their stake’s three-day youth conference. The stake’s “Extreme Neighborhood Makeover” literally transformed a small neighborhood in Provo, Utah: 5 houses were reroofed, 15 were painted, and a few new lawns were put in. In all, 25 houses in the neighborhood had at least one type of repair performed.
“It’s a party,” “This is fabulous,” “It’s amazing,” and “I can’t believe how early they were here,” were some of the comments by residents as they watched the youth descend on their neighborhood with scrapers, paint, and ladders.
“It’s just been amazing to watch how hard these kids have worked,” said Joseph Nilson, stake president of the Alpine Utah Stake. “To me, you don’t have to go too far to find service opportunities, and it’s wonderful for them to get out and see their religion in action.”

My mom was collecting blankets and warm clothing to send to a refugee camp. She told me some children don’t have any blankets to keep warm. I found my favorite blanket, my “cloud blankie,” which is blue with clouds on it. I brought it to my mom and told her I wanted to donate it. She asked if I was sure, and I said yes. It was really hard for me to give up my favorite blanket. I knew I would miss it, but I did it anyway. I knew it would help another child.
Megan B., age 7, Ohio, USA

Our family loved the trips we took to the mountains when our children were young. Standing on the edge of beautiful Jackson Lake, with the majestic mountain peaks reflected in its glassy surface, we would have contests skipping rocks across the smooth water. As the rocks sank, we watched while ripples moved out across the water as far as we could see. Even the smallest pebble tossed by our youngest child rippled on and on and on.

This is the world Mike Lee stepped into at age 16, when his father sent him out to learn about work.
Now, before you start picturing Mike’s father as some sort of hardhearted Captain Bligh, let’s set the record straight. His father’s act may have seemed at the time almost cruel, but in truth it was an act of love.
It was 1979. “I’d been having a lot of trouble in school, a lot of trouble in everything,” Mike explained. “I wasn’t a bad kid. I just didn’t know what I wanted to do.”
Mike’s father, W. Boyd Lee, was serving at the time as president of the Norfolk Virginia Stake. He loved his son and worried about him a lot. “Mike’s mother and I prayed constantly. I kept feeling that Mike should work on Spencers’ boat.”
Ira Spencer, Jr., a good friend of Brother Lee, was the branch president of the Manteo (North Carolina) Branch. Ira owned a fishing trawler that his son Duke piloted out of Wanchese, a little town near Kitty Hawk, where the Wright brothers first flew a plane. Ira and his wife Shirley also ran a seafood restaurant in Nags Head, and maybe Mike could help out in the kitchen when the ship was in port. Ira and Duke enjoyed having LDS crew members, because they had proven to be honest and dependable, and they didn’t use foul language or smoke on the ship.
“Still, he was only 16, and I didn’t want to impose on the Spencers,” Brother Lee explained. He talked the idea over with Ira.
“Mike seemed like a good boy,” Ira said. “Sometimes you’ve just got to give a boy incentive, and on his own he’ll move from where he is to where he should be.”
So Mike became a fisherman on the War Cry, a boat named after a line in the hymn “Hope of Israel”: “Sound the war cry, ‘Watch and pray!’” (Hymns, no. 64).
“It’s the hardest work I’ve ever done,” Mike said. “It’s not only skill that’s involved, but also a strong stomach and a desire to keep going. A lot of people can work hard for eight hours, but when you’re working almost twenty-four hours a day over a long period of time, you learn about endurance.”
At first Mike was in charge of small but important details. He had to make sure tools were always returned to the right place. He helped push trash fish overboard when the sorting was done. When the boat went after scallops, he learned how to cut the shells open and slice out the edible muscle.
“He was kind of timid at first, but pretty quick he showed us all what a good worker he was,” Duke said. “It got to where we’d trust him to run anything. He knew the gear and could do anything the rest of us could do.”
The basic crew included three returned missionaries, two others just getting ready to leave, a recent convert, captain Duke (who served a mission in Brazil), and an inactive prospective elder. “Working together, we developed quite a camaraderie,” Mike said. By the end of the summer the inactive member wasn’t inactive anymore, and Mike was ready for school again.
“Working on the boat gave me a chance to sort out my life,” Mike explained. “Even though you’re working, you’ve got plenty of time to think, and I thought a lot about the future. I thought about college, about a mission, about my family.”
He also said that being out at sea “made me love the ocean, made me respect its power. It helped me appreciate what God has created, the same way that getting out in nature helps you. It’s just a different kind of nature. The sea makes you appreciate the world that you’re a part of.”

He knew his sheep. He knew their names and he knew each of their ways. One day when we were searching for him and his flock, we saw one of his sheep separated from the rest.
When we found the flock, I said, “Peter, one of your sheep is lost. We saw it over on the other side of the mesa.”
He seemed remarkably calm about the news and said, “Oh I know. That’s Box. He’s the old one. He doesn’t have any teeth. He’s all right.” I was amazed. He knew all about that one particular sheep even though it was out of sight. Peter saw my surprise and smiled. He didn’t have any more teeth than Box.

I was on the bus on my way home from school on a very windy day. My bus driver got to the stop where my neighbor and I get off. Our driver had a feeling that we shouldn’t get off, so she pulled to the side of the road and told us to stay on. As my neighbor and I were waiting for her to open the doors, we saw a flash of light and heard a big crash. We looked out the windows and saw our other neighbor’s big tree fall over onto a power pole, and the pole fell across the road right in front of the bus. It was in the exact spot where we would have crossed the road. If our bus driver had let us off, we would have been roadkill. I was really grateful for the Holy Ghost that day and that He inspires people.

But like many new converts, Teahumanu saw the gospel light he had received dim as worldly pressures overshadowed his initial commitment. In 1957, after Brother Manoï brought his family to Nouméa to look for work, he started to smoke and drink. Térotí would have none of it and returned to her parents in Tahiti. Teahumanu followed her—with some trepidation. When they were married, Térotí’s father had told him, “I’m giving her to you as a trust. If she ever comes back to me, watch out!” Teahumanu asked both Térotí and her father for forgiveness and promised to give up his bad habits forever. He has kept that promise.

In family home evening we studied the 13th article of faith. We learned that “If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” Then we talked about the kinds of movies and television shows we watch. We decided that our family would not watch movies rated R or PG-13. Then a movie came out that I really wanted to see. I had seen the first three movies in the series, but I told my mom that we shouldn’t see the fourth because it was rated PG-13. She said it would be my choice. Even though I really wanted to see it, I decided that I wouldn’t. I felt that it might not be “virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy.”

At this point in our report from President Holland and Professor Holzapfel, I need to introduce a small character into this story: my great-great-grandfather Robert Henry Swain.12

In 1853 Grandpa Henry and his wife were baptized in Kent, England, where he was employed as a policeman and as a member of the queen’s local bodyguard. Like many of our ancestors, Grandpa and his wife, Elizabeth, and their children crossed the Atlantic to make the pioneer trek to Utah, but they did not come together. What’s unique in Grandpa Henry’s story is that when he departed from Liverpool on April 29, 1865, on the ship Belle Wood, he left alone. He and Elizabeth had separated five years earlier. We don’t know the circumstances of the divorce, but we do know that Elizabeth was not happy with Henry and had tossed her wedding band into the sea. Grandpa subsequently lost his membership in the Church.

I imagine that if any of you have been napping, I just captured your attention. What captures my attention and imagination is visualizing Grandpa walking alone into the Great Salt Lake Valley with the William S. S. Willes wagon company on November 11, 1865. I wonder what he was thinking and feeling as he entered the valley. What was this divorced and excommunicated brother to do there? He had no useful skills for the Saints at that time, and he wasn’t in a position to provide much priesthood service.

Grandpa went to work as a stonecutter in Little Cottonwood Canyon and as a stonemason on the temple, where he labored for the next 10 years. And while working on the construction of the temple, a reconstruction of his own life began taking place as he returned to full fellowship in the kingdom. Eventually he became a chief stonemason and established a family occupation that was passed forward to many of his descendants, including my father and my brothers and me. As a result, I have some experience with sweating over brick and stone in the summer and working to keep the tools and materials unfrozen in the winter. It became my own “stay-in-school” program and made the work on my doctoral studies a comparatively painless experience. That said, when I look at my soft, pink hands today, I miss the quality of that work and mourn a little its disappearing legacy as the Swain family line continues to move forward into the information age and acquires new skills in a new economy.

Two and half years after the temple dedication, on November 18, 1895, Grandpa Henry died of a lung disease attributed to his working so long in the granite dust.20 I believe, though, that his work on the temple breathed life back into him. Grandpa died surrounded by his large family. He died fully in the faith. Besides a family tradition of brick and stone masonry, he left a legacy of faith for me. Grandpa Henry was built—was remade—into a new creature.

When he was stake president, L. Tom Perry had the privilege of setting his son apart as a missionary. “My father is not one to show a lot of emotion,” Lee says. “But he was in tears during the blessing. And then he wrote a letter and put it into my suitcase without my knowledge. When I got to the mission home and opened my bag, there was the letter. In it, he told me he was proud to be my father. Since I’ve always adored him, that was pretty significant. It stayed with me as a source of strength and comfort throughout my mission.”

While I was growing up, my life was carefree and simple. School and hobbies came easily to me. I didn’t have much to complain about and was generally happy.
But after I turned 19, my life changed.
When I left for my mission in Asuncion, Paraguay, I was excited. I expected things to go smoothly, just like the rest of my life had. After about four months on my mission, however, I found myself back in my hometown due to overwhelming depression and anxiety. In my mind, I’d always been successful—someone who didn’t have weaknesses, as if that were possible. Now I was consumed with fear, guilt, anger, hopelessness, and sadness. All I could think about was how much of a failure I was.
When the Saints in Zion’s Camp faced the news that they would be returning home without their expected blessing, they may have wondered why Heavenly Father had asked them to take the journey in the first place. I, too, wondered why I’d been led in a direction that didn’t turn out as I had planned.
After several weeks of feeling more sadness than I’d ever felt before, I realized I didn’t want to continue living with such a negative attitude. I knew I was not sent to earth to live a life consumed with discouragement and pessimism. After all, we are that we “might have joy”! (2 Nephi 2:25). I decided to shift my focus from the “whys” of the past to finding purpose in the midst of affliction.
I reached out to other people, became involved in new hobbies, and went back to school. I also started a daily gratitude journal. What started out as one-line entries turned into full pages as I began to recognize the Lord’s hand in my life more effortlessly. My prayers changed from wish lists to gratitude lists.
Even though my hard days didn’t disappear—they still haven’t—I now know what a difference it makes to focus my perspective on the good in life. Instead of seeing my trials as a bad thing, I decided to view them as an opportunity for growth.
Looking back on how things have turned out since I came home from Paraguay, I can see how Heavenly Father was guiding me and giving me opportunities through my experiences. I met some of my closest friends in those months following my mission, and I was able to immediately start studying at a local university, even though the deadline for enrollment had passed. That program led me to a study abroad in Switzerland, where I got to share the gospel with my host family.
Those years of consciously choosing gratitude have instilled in me a habit of thanking Heavenly Father for all things, which increases my faith in Him.

I glanced at the quarter in my hand and then eyed the 10-foot distance to the cement wall. The other kid’s quarter had landed about six inches from the wall. Another good shot. He’d already won my first quarter last round. Now I had to win it back—and hopefully win an additional quarter from him in the third round.
You see, I wanted a soda with my lunch. And sodas cost 75 cents, which was 25 cents more than I had left after buying lunch at our junior high school cafeteria. Hence the contest.
I tossed my last quarter as skillfully as I could. I hoped for a lucky bounce that would put it closer to the wall than my opponent’s, thereby making me the winner.
Nope. My fiendish coin hit the wall hard. I watched as it rolled back farther than my opponent’s. He smirked and scooped up the spoils.
“Better luck next time,” he said.
It would be an entire school year before it occurred to me that if I’d simply saved my change after lunch, I could’ve bought a soda two days out of every three. At the time, though, the idea of turning two quarters into three or more with no effort was too enticing. I lost a lot of quarters that year.

When I was a young boy, I often went fishing with my family. We stayed in a cabin just north of Sun Valley, Idaho, right next to the Big Wood River. That’s where my grandpa and my dad first taught me to fish. But I learned more than how to fish on those trips.
Sometimes the fish wouldn’t bite right away and I had to be very patient. Other days the fish wouldn’t bite at all. I had to learn to work through disappointment when I didn’t catch any fish. But it was always worth it when after a long wait I saw a fish on my line and reeled it in.

Paul Hanks gripped the handle of his canvas duffel bag with a sweaty hand and listened to his mother repeat the instructions that she had been drilling into him all week.
“Now, your bus will get to Cheyenne in the middle of the night, and you’ll have to change bus stations there. Just go outside the depot, look across the street, and you’ll be able to see the other depot. Go over there and buy your ticket right away, even though you’ll probably have a couple of hours before your bus leaves, and—”
“You’ll get to Grandma and Grandpa’s in the middle of the morning!” Paul’s two little sisters, who had heard the speech as many times as he had, finished their mother’s sentence in shrill unison.
“Maybe you should send them, too, Rose,” Paul’s father said with a chuckle. “It’s just a bus trip. He’ll be fine.”
“Sure, Mom,” Paul reassured her. “I remember how the rest of us did it when Dad couldn’t go a couple years ago. I’ll be OK.” Then, thoughtfully, he added what he’d been thinking ever since he’d found out that he’d be going to Wyoming by himself for the summer. “You know, I wish I was going by covered wagon or pulling a handcart. All the challenges are gone now. I’m going to be doing in a few hours what the pioneers spent most of a summer doing—and some of them died in the effort.”
“No challenges!” his mother exclaimed. “I’m worried to death about turning a twelve-year-old boy over to an impersonal bus company, and you’re looking for challenges! I suppose you want to hunt buffalo too!”
Paul grinned. “Well, it might keep me from getting bored.”
Before he could continue, a big silver bus pulled up to the curb, and a voice over a loudspeaker announced that it was the bus to Cheyenne and that it was ready to board. Paul hurriedly hugged his sisters and father, gave his mother a quick kiss, and, hopping that he looked more confident than he felt, boarded the bus. As it pulled out of the depot, he waved from a window seat, then settled back to watch the prairie whiz by.
Paul was sound asleep when the bus reached Cheyenne, and the driver had to wake him. But Paul managed to retrieve the big suitcase that he had checked, and he struggled across the street with it and his duffel bag. He bought his ticket, checked his suitcase again, then bought some cookies and a can of pop from a vending machine. He was glad to go back to sleep again on the bus when he was finally headed north.
Paul was tired of sleeping, tired of sitting, and tired of reading, when the bus pulled into a small rural town in northern Wyoming at midmorning. He was glad to see Grandma and Grandpa Hanks waiting for him. They loaded Paul’s baggage into the back of a battered pickup and, amid lots of hugs and questions about his trip and the family, had him sit between them on the seat.
“We have one stop to make before we go home,” Grandpa told Paul. “If you’re going to be my best hand for the summer, you need some irrigation boots and a shovel.”
“That’s great,” Paul agreed. “I’d love to have my own shovel, but not those hot, heavy rubber boots. I brought a couple pairs of old sneakers. I’ll just use those.”
“But your feet will be wet and muddy all the time,” Grandma protested.
“Now you sound like Mom.” Paul grinned. “A little mud never hurt anyone.”
It was after lunch before Paul and Grandpa Hanks left the house to irrigate.
“You drive,” Grandpa told him as they neared the pickup.
“Me? Oh boy!” Paul climbed in proudly, then found it wasn’t as easy as it looked to work the clutch on the old pickup and back up smoothly. He killed the engine a time or two and jerked the pickup so much that Grandpa had to hold his hat with one hand and the dashboard with the other. Maybe it’s a good thing that the pioneers had horses, Paul thought.
“By the time your father was your age, he could drive everything on the place,” Grandpa said. “Why, I started him guiding the truck across the field while I fed hay to the cows off the back of it when he was only eight years old. When we got to the end of the field, he just turned off the ignition key and waited for me to turn the truck around and start us back. It was a proud day when he could reach the brake and the clutch pedals without getting off the seat and when he could shift gears without taking his eyes off the road. You turn here.”
Paul turned the pickup at the head of a grassy field and stopped beside the dam in the irrigation ditch.
“Whew!” he gasped. “That was fun. I’m too young to drive at home. I wish I could live in the country all the time.”
“We’ll see how you feel about that in a few weeks,” Grandpa replied. “Now let’s walk down the field and see if the water has run all the way through.”
Paul took his new shovel and followed Grandpa down the field. He helped reset the irrigation dam twenty rows from the last setting and learned to carefully shovel cutouts. They had to be just so—too deep, and the turbulent water would wash away the sides of the ditch; too shallow, and the feeble stream of water wouldn’t reach the end of the field. After only a few minutes of digging, the shovel handle had made blisters on Paul’s hands. He was hot and thirsty, and there were two more fields to irrigate before chore time. By the time they had finished irrigating, Paul could almost drive the pickup without it jerking.
Grandpa proudly pointed out the various crops that they passed: a new variety of field corn that was supposed to produce superior silage, a field of alfalfa for hay, a field of oats, and a small field of winter wheat. “Wheat for man, and corn for the ox, and oats for the horse,” Grandpa said, quoting the Word of Wisdom scripture that was familiar to Paul too.
“It’ll be a good crop,” Grandpa said, “if the irrigation water just holds out. We’ll have to make the most of what we have.” He pointed out one field where the water that ran through it would be used on the field below it. “Every drop counts.”
Besides irrigating, the chores that Paul was to help with included feeding a few pigs and a couple calves (Grandma tended the chickens), calling the saddle horses in from pasture for grain, watering the stock, and milking and feeding the milk cow. But when Grandpa saw Paul’s broken blisters, he decided to wait a few days to see if Paul remembered how to milk.
When Grandpa asked the blessing at suppertime, he said, “Father in Heaven, we thank Thee for this fine young man who has come to brighten our days and ease our way …”
That night as Paul settled onto the fluffy feather pillow and cool, smooth sheets with the moonlit tree-limb pattern on them, he decided that he had had enough challenges for one day.
In the next few days the blisters on his hands turned into calluses as Paul followed Grandpa and helped irrigate and rode horseback to move a dozen heifers to a different pasture. He carried heavy buckets for Grandma and still found plenty of time to watch the baby chicks and play with a litter of kittens.
On Saturday afternoon, when he and Grandpa went to make the second irrigation settings of the day, Paul counted the rows to where he thought he should move the dam.
“Not there,” Grandpa told him. “Go more than twice as far.” When he saw that Paul didn’t understand, he explained. “Tomorrow is Sunday. If we spread the water farther, it can run over twice as long. We can leave it safely until early Monday. We’ve labored our six days. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a day of rest.”
They were on the last field, setting long sets with small, shallow cutouts, when Paul heard a splash, a sickening snap, and a cry of pain. He turned in time to see Grandpa sliding in the mud with one leg in an unnatural position under him. Paul ran quickly to him. “Grandpa, are you all right?”
Grandpa grimaced and gasped in pain. “My leg is broken. You’ll have to go for help. Tell your grandma to call for the county ambulance—and don’t you let her get all upset! Tell her I’m going to be fine. Looks like you’ll have to do chores by yourself. Can you do it?”
Paul nodded.
“Now go—and be careful.”
Paul put his shovel over his shoulder and ran toward the pickup. At least we can call the paramedics, he thought. What would I have done on the prairie in a handcart company?

Paul hurried to the house and told Grandma to call the county ambulance. Then he did the chores by himself, just as Grandpa had asked. Later, after the ambulance had taken Grandpa to the hospital, Paul kept on helping Grandma with the work around the farm.

The next day was Sunday, and Paul went to church with Grandma. He thought about Grandpa’s broken leg and about all the work that had to be done on the ranch, and he realized that the “challenges” he had been wishing for had come after all. They were not the kind he had expected, but they were real enough.

When Grandpa came home from the hospital, Paul was waiting for him. “How is your leg?” he asked.
“It’ll heal,” Grandpa said. “And you did fine while I was gone.”
Paul smiled. “I guess the pioneers had challenges enough.”
Grandpa smiled back. “They sure did. And so do we. The important thing is to do what needs to be done.”
Paul nodded. He knew now that real challenges were not something to hunt for just to keep from getting bored. They were opportunities to serve and to grow.

(To be continued.)

I am honored to speak to you today. However, I am somewhat humbled by this opportunity. This reminds me of an instance about 20 years ago, when I responded to an editorial that I heard on WGN-Radio in Chicago. Shortly after sending a written response to the station, I received a call indicating that they would like me to come in and tape my response for broadcast. Luckily I wore a suit to the station, because when I arrived, I was informed that the taping would take place on the set for the evening news program, with a teleprompter. It hadn’t crossed my mind that WGN was both a radio and a TV station and that my editorial response was to be televised. Needless to say, I was a little nervous.

“Let’s prepare ourselves to go to the temple” were the words uttered by my husband when I was washing the dishes. I was astonished. Being in the Church for almost two decades and like every other young women, I too dreamt of getting married to an active, worthy, temple-loving returned missionary.
My husband and I knew each other for almost 12 years, and on September 2009, we decided to get married. I had a strong desire to get married in the temple, and when I shared my feelings, my husband insisted that we work together to be strong enough to enter into His holy place. We committed ourselves that we would go to the temple and get sealed in the house of the Lord in three months. The initial days were blissful. But life wasn’t like something that floats around and lands on you like a lucky butterfly. It needs to be tended, like a fire in your heart, by breathing life into a spark over and over again.
Years came and went in a blur of working hard and spinning our wheels. We filled our days with what we thought we had to do. We were careless with our love, sending out sharp words and criticisms and then rushing out the door to our next obligation. We thought we were building a life for our future. But we didn’t see the cracks in what we were building.
Whenever we thought of going to the temple, we became conscious of our failings and felt uncomfortable at the thought of approaching the Lord. We felt unworthy of the Lord’s love and were fearful of His disapproval. We knew that preparation to enter the temple and covenant-making doesn’t happen quickly. It began with baptism, confirmation of the gift of the Holy Ghost, and then it has to grow every day with prayer, scripture study, obedience, repentance, partaking of the sacrament, keeping the commandments, etc.
The day dawned when my husband was called by Bishop Daniel Michael and stake president Nithyakumar to be the second counsellor in the Convent Road Branch. That puzzled us greatly, for we had supposed that someone called to such an office would have an unusual, different, and greatly enlarged testimony and spiritual power than my husband.
My husband denied initially and said he is not worthy enough to accept the call. It was a great challenge, and after two months he made up his mind. A few days later, my husband felt something strong in his heart that we must prepare ourselves to go to the temple. Temple ordinances are the most exalted ordinances that have been revealed to mankind. We wanted to receive the temple ordinances, make solemn covenants with our Father, feel His Spirit, and receive additional revelation and understanding. As we have heard many temple-returned members bear their testimonies, we wanted to experience that same understanding and assurance of the eternal existence and the unending power of the covenants made. If we are not eternal beings, the temple would have no significance. We wanted to enter the temple and make covenants because we know that we will exist eternally, and we wanted to be with our Heavenly Father and our family in “never-ending happiness.”
We slowly started to resolve our marital differences and felt that it was worth our best efforts. We started to prepare wisely and foresaw the need for adjustment. We started listening to each other and each moment of listening piled up until we could start climbing right up and out of our hole. We added laughter and that made the climbing lighter. We let things go, saw with new eyes, and stood in the each other’s shoes. Serving family, Church members, and friends became enjoyable. All these years we were trying to find happiness by hunting for it, not realising that we will find it as the old woman did her lost spectacles, safe on her nose all the time.
Our understanding of our eternal perspective helped us both to love and respect each other and overcome selfishness as we worked through our differences together. We partook of the sacrament, sought for forgiveness, strived to keep the Lord’s standards, and felt proud to worthily carry a temple recommend. The more we stood for true principles, the more we felt the Lord’s help to overcome temptation.
We started preparing spiritually, mentally, and financially. We worked on our family tree. We knew that our ancestors were waiting and praying for hundreds of years for their ordinances to be performed. We felt great and awesome to do that part of work for them. We were able to collect 42 names. On May 14, 2017, we went to the temple. We did not understand much when we did our own endowments and got sealed. I was taken in disbelief when I saw my dream come true where I dreamt of sitting in a room on a chair and a person with white dress speaking to me. I saw the same room, the same chair in which I was sitting during my initiatory and a person in white dress speaking to me. I went back to the patron house and reflected on my dream as though it happened just few days back. When we did baptisms for our ancestors and began to seal them, we felt the Spirit so strong in us. My husband didn’t serve his mission but was blessed to baptize nearly 60 people who are dead. When we did endowments for our ancestors and as we entered into the celestial room, we both held our hands together, prayed for few minutes. There were scriptures lying next to us. When we randomly opened the page, it turned to Doctrine and Covenants 38:7–15. We were overjoyed to see the promised blessings.
I know that Heavenly Father wants to bless us. His greatest blessings come when we enter the temple to receive sacred ordinances and when we make and keep sacred covenants. We feel we have reformed ourselves. Our hearts are full of thanks for the Saviour’s Atonement that assures us that ‘though [our] sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18). I am grateful for my family. We are really blessed to live in a time when the Lord has inspired His prophets to provide significantly increased accessibility to the holy temples worldwide and invite each of you to have a current temple recommend and visit the temple more often. All of the ordinances which take place in the house of the Lord become expressions of our belief in that fundamental and basic doctrine of the immortality of the human soul. As we redouble our efforts and our faithfulness in going to the temple, the Lord will bless us. We leave you this testimony that when you prepare, “set specific goals, considering your circumstances, of when you can and will participate in temple ordinances. Then do not allow anything to interfere with that plan. This pattern will guarantee that those who live in the shadow of a temple will be as blessed as are those who plan far ahead and make a long trip to the temple” (Richard G. Scott, “Temple Worship: The Source of Strength and Power in Times of Need,” Liahona, May 2009, 43).
Finally, I quote from President Howard W. Hunter (1907–95): “Let us be a temple-attending and a temple-loving people. Let us hasten to the temple as frequently as time and means and personal circumstances allow. Let us go not only for our kindred dead, but let us also go for the personal blessing of temple worship, for the sanctity and safety which are provided within those hallowed and consecrated walls. The temple is a place of beauty; it is a place of revelation; it is a place of peace. It is the house of the Lord. It is holy unto the Lord. It should be holy unto us” (“The Great Symbol of Our Membership,” Ensign, July 1994, 5).
May the Lord continue to bless you and your families when you prepare to enter his holy House as He did ours. I strongly bear this testimony in the precious name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, amen.

9. An International Holiday. Plan with three or four other couples to celebrate the Chinese New Year, Jewish Rosh Hashanah or Hanukkah, Hawaiian Kuhio Day, Irish St. Patrick’s Day, Mexican Cinco de Mayo, or any one of the many holidays from the nations of the world. Find out what the people do on their special holiday, what they traditionally eat, how they celebrate, and why. This may take a bit of study and planning, but it can be very rewarding and interesting. With so many returned missionaries to aid you, this shouldn’t be difficult. One young couple celebrated the Chinese New Year with firecrackers and a Chinese dinner served on a low table. Everyone ate while seated on cushions on the floor. After dinner each person was given a piece of paper and asked to think up an original Chinese proverb. The host couple gave a brief account of how the Chinese celebrate their new year. Background music and artwork from the country had been checked out of the local library, and for a few special hours, everyone enjoyed being part of a distant land.

Brethren and sisters, after what I’ve heard here today—certainly a full coverage of the subject—I am reminded of an experience I had some years ago. I believe it was one of the few times, if not the only time, that we General Authorities were asked by the Brethren to treat a certain subject at a stake conference. That week I went to Richfield, and Brother Clifford Young went over to Monroe. They had a chorus of young folks from the school sing at Richfield while I was there in the morning, and then they went over to Monroe in the afternoon and sang where Brother Young was. It happened that I talked about the assigned subject in the morning, and Clifford talked about it in the afternoon. When we made our report to the Council of the Twelve, Brother Young said it had been a fine occasion; the only bad thing about it was that those students had had to listen to the same subject twice. President George F. Richards, then president of the Twelve, said, “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t suppose they knew you were talking about the same subject.”

I met a young man, and we became friends. For the next ten months we shared our ideas and thoughts about many things, but never religion. One day I found that my friend traveled with a Bible, so I asked him if he went to church and what the name of his church was. It was some long name—The Church of Jesus Christ of something something Saints. I wasn’t the least bit interested—it sounded like just another church to me.
My friend later told me he was going to serve the Lord for two years in another country. I figured he was going to be a pastor. When he left, I began to wonder what his church was like, and I began to search for their meeting place.
I found it a few months later, but I also found something more. As I walked through the doors of the meetinghouse, I felt a feeling impossible to describe; it was joy, peace, comfort, certainty, and happiness all in one. It was like coming home. My questions had now been answered.
The members of the church welcomed me with open arms. At first, I was reluctant to accept these welcomes because it was a little too much. I wasn’t used to so many people. They welcomed me whether they knew me or not. At the end of the meeting, a calm feeling came over me, and I heard these words in my mind: “Debbie, this is the place, and these are the people you have been searching for.”
Looking back, I see that my life in the ghetto was difficult and that a person could make it harder by making wrong choices. There was little opportunity for progression. But I wanted something worth living for. When the opportunity came to leave the ghetto with part of my family, I decided this was my chance.
Many of the girls I grew up with never left the ghetto. I could not have made it without following the desires of my heart and trusting in my Father above to lead me. I was blessed with the chance to leave the ghetto, be baptized a member of this church, gain an education, and fulfill a mission. I know Heavenly Father loves us all and is mindful of our circumstances, no matter where we are. He desires above all things that we find true happiness.