Gospel Story Finder

Another recent convert, a sister, said her good neighbors made her promise that she would meet the missionaries and attend the "Mormon" church three times. She writes: "The first time in church I sat and looked around the congregation at the beautiful and respectful people and all their lovely children. And I felt tears run down my cheeks....This for me was extraordinary because I had no immediate explanation for my reaction. The second visit to church was the same. I sat down and began again to weep for no apparent reason, although now I recognized the intervention of the Holy Ghost. By the third visit, I no longer wept. I enjoyed everything about it, but most especially having a group of people who were interested in the same thing that had held my attention for forty years, the Christ, the Path and the Truth."

Other preparatory episodes in his life show divine design. Not long after young Elder Faust’s arrival in Brazil, Elder Wm. Grant Bangerter, his second missionary companion, welcomed Elder Faust at a time when missionaries were having very little success. The senior companion watched young Elder Faust boldly approach one of his first houses. Elder Bangerter skeptically thought he wouldn’t be able to converse enough to do any good. Elder Bangerter even turned his back on Brother Faust to emphasize that the contact was Brother Faust’s, not his! But young Elder Faust’s conversation with the woman at the window led to the Dedo-Valeixo family’s joining the Church (see Ensign, October 1986, page 6).

When Panda Greene tried out for the girls’ one-mile run, she didn’t think she had a chance. She’d been running all her life, but never in formal competition. It had always been just for fun. The students and teachers at Andrews School had been buzzing about the race ever since she’d enrolled there in the sixth grade three months ago, and she knew that the very best runners would be competing. She could hardly believe it when she finished well ahead of her classmates. And when everyone at school suddenly knew who she was, and even the teachers stopped to chat with her in the halls, she couldn’t help but be pleased.
“Go, Panda! Go! Go!” the students cheered as she crossed the finish line ahead of the other runners during practices.
Andrews School’s biggest rival was Washington School. Every year for the past five years the winner of their meet had finally been determined by the winner of the one-mile race, and each time, Washington had walked away with the trophy. But enthusiasm was running high at Andrews this year. And their hopes were set on Panda. Winning had never seemed important to Panda before, but now she wanted very much to win—not for herself, but for her classmates, for her teachers, for Andrews School!
When Panda’s parents heard about the meet, they were just as excited as she was.
“We’ll be sure to be there,” her mother said, giving her a big hug. “We’re so proud of you!”
“When Grandpa Greene hears about it,” her father added, “I bet he’ll be here on the next plane.”
Billy, Panda’s eight-year-old brother, looked at her through squinted eyes. “Well, I hope you win, but I saw Washington’s team last Saturday. Their runner looks tough, and she runs like a cougar.”
Billy’s warning only increased Panda’s determination to win. Every afternoon, right after school, she hurried to the big track at the neighboring high school and practiced running until her brown hair was damp with perspiration and the muscles of her legs cried out for rest.
Panda felt good the morning of the race. She stood at the top of the bleachers in the warm sun and looked down at the track. “You’d better go sit with Mom and Dad and Grandpa now,” she said to Billy, who had been tagging after her all morning. “I have to go to the girls’ locker room and get ready for the race.”
As she spoke, Marianne Harper, her rival from Washington School, came over to her. Billy was right. Marianne looked strong and fast. She also looked unfriendly.
“I just wanted a closer look at you,” she said to Panda. “Everyone’s been telling me that you’re quite a runner. But you don’t look like much to me.”
Billy scrambled up the bleacher seats until he was at face level with Marianne. He stuck out his chin and glared at her. “Well, that’s OK, because you’re going to see nothing but her dust once the race starts!”
Marianne merely looked past Billy at Panda. “You don’t stand a chance of winning,” she said coolly as she walked away. “You don’t need it badly enough.”
Billy turned to Panda. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t have time to figure it out now,” she said as she headed down the bleachers. Turning to wave to Billy, Panda caught the toe of her sneaker on an uneven step and pitched forward. She quickly regained her balance, but a sharp pain bit angrily into her right ankle. After testing it gingerly, she decided it wasn’t anything serious, and she hurried off to the locker room.
The race was four laps around the school’s quarter-mile track. Six girls, each one from a local grade school, were lined up across the track in starting position. Panda was in the inside lane, Marianne Harper in the lane next to her. The gun went off, and Marianne instantly shot ahead of the group.
Panda paced herself, concentrating on her breathing. Relax, she told herself. Take deep, even breaths.
At the end of the second lap, two girls were ahead of her: Marianne Harper, and Sue Winton from Longfellow School. Panda continued her steady pace. The whole school was counting on her, and she wasn’t planning to let them down. By the third lap, only Marianne stood between Panda and victory. But the mishap in the bleachers had been more damaging than Panda had suspected, and the pounding of her feet against the hard surface was taking its toll on her ankle. Each step filled her leg with fiery pain. Gotta win! she thought. Forget the pain. Run! Run! Run!
Panda saw her chance for victory midway in the last lap. Marianne was showing signs of fatigue. Panda increased her speed, closing the gap until the two girls were running side by side. Marianne glanced at Panda, her eyes hard and cold. It was clear that she would not take losing lightly.
There were only fifty yards to go when a bolt of pain ripped through Panda’s leg; she felt her ankle twist beneath her body as she plunged toward the ground. Her hands plowed up the track, scraping them raw. Blood trickled from her knees, and gritty sand filled her mouth as she saw Marianne sprint across the finish line.
A party had been planned at the high school auditorium for all the contestants, winners and losers alike, immediately following the meet. Panda really wanted to attend it, so despite her injuries, her parents drove her there directly from the doctor’s office and helped her into a chair. She was immediately surrounded by concerned friends, determined to console her and cheer her up. Billy stood at her side, while her parents and grandfather talked with several other parents and some teachers.
“Does your leg hurt a lot?” Billy asked when her classmates temporarily drifted away.
“No, not too much,” Panda said. “The doctor says it’ll be fine in a week or so. I just have to let it rest.”
Billy was the first to see Marianne Harper heading their way. “Oh, oh. Here comes trouble!” he muttered.
Panda expected a sneer from Marianne, but her face was serious. “I’m sorry about your fall,” she said. “I wanted to win awfully bad, but not that way.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Panda said. “You beat me fair and square. You’re the winner.”
“Am I? Look around.” Marianne motioned to the many parents, teachers, and students in the room. “Your whole family’s here … and so many friends! They don’t care that you lost. They’re still cheering for you.” She shook her head sadly. “I thought it might be different if I won, but it isn’t. My classmates only came because we’re getting the trophy, and my parents didn’t show up at all.”
Marianne turned to walk away, and Panda reached out and grasped her arm. “Wait,” she said. “You’ll be going to Jefferson Junior High next year, won’t you?”
Marianne nodded.
“I will, too,” Panda said. “Maybe we can be on a relay team together. We’d make great partners.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course,” Panda said.
“Then you have yourself a partner!” Marianne smiled a half-smile as she left, but her eyes were wet with tears.
“I don’t get it,” Billy said. “She’s the winner. Winners don’t cry.”
“Sometimes they do, Billy,” Panda said thoughtfully. “I guess there are lots of things more important than winning.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “Like having a brother.”
Panda put her arm around Billy’s shoulder. “Yes,” she agreed with a broad smile. “Like having a brother.”

To illustrate, may I share with you an experience which took place several years ago when Sister Monson had been hospitalized because of a fall. She asked me to go to the supermarket and purchase a few items. This was something I had not done before. I had a shopping list which included potatoes. I promptly found a grocery cart and placed a number of potatoes in it. I knew nothing of the plastic bags in which purchases are normally placed. As I moved the cart along, the potatoes fell out and onto the floor, exiting through two rather small openings in the back of the cart. A dutiful clerk hurried to my aid and called out, “Let me help you!” I tried to explain to her that my cart was defective. It was only then that I was told that all the carts had those two holes in the back and that they were meant for the legs of children.
Next the clerk took my list and helped me find each item. Then she said, “You are Bishop Monson, aren’t you?”
I answered that many years earlier I had indeed been a bishop. She continued: “At that time I lived on Gale Street in your ward and was not a member of the Church. You made certain the girls who were members contacted me each week and took me with them to Mutual and other activities. They were fine young women whose friendship and kindness touched my heart. I want to let you know that the fellowshipping you arranged for me led to my being baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. What a blessing this has been in my life,” she said, “and I thank you for your kindness.”

In 1993, three days after I moved to Polokwane, in northern South Africa, I got a knock on my door. When I opened it, there stood two missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I grew up deeply religious, and my family had always warned me to stay away from the missionaries. But they seemed nice and I enjoy talking about religion, so I invited them in.
After a wonderful visit, they said to me, “Could we give you a Book of Mormon?”
“Wait just wait a minute,” I responded. “I think I have one.”
When I showed my copy to them, they were astounded. I explained that in my home city of Cape Town a number of years before, missionaries had given me a Book of Mormon at an exhibition. I hung on to it, and every now and then I paged through it.
After our visit, I invited the missionaries back. I had been raised in a different church, however, where my stepfather was a minister. The thought of having to be baptized again became one of the stumbling blocks to my conversion. Nevertheless, I began attending the Church’s small branch. After about a year and a half, the branch president called me into his office.
“David, I want to give you a challenge,” the branch president said. “We really want you to get a testimony of the Book of Mormon. I feel you can do that if I call you to teach Gospel Doctrine. You already teach at a university, and you’re not scared of standing in front of people.”
Today, teachers must be members of the Church.1 But back then, the branch president felt inspired to ask me to teach. I’m grateful for that.
“OK,” I said.
Every Saturday evening I would study the lesson in great detail so I could understand it, know it, and relate to the Book of Mormon’s stories and characters. For me, teaching the book really was a good way to find my testimony of it.
One Sunday, after I had taught for about a year, the mission president from Pretoria came for a conference and attended my Sunday School class.
“Thank you, Brother Baxter,” he said afterward. “That was a nice lesson. Where are you from?”
When I told him Cape Town, he asked what ward I had attended.
“I didn’t attend a ward.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I am what you would refer to as a Gentile?” I said. “I’m not a member of the Church.”
He went white in the face and rushed off to the branch president.
“You have a nonmember teaching the scriptures?” the mission president asked him.
“Well, did he do it badly?”
“No.”
“Was he inspiring?”
“Yes.”
“Did he teach true doctrine?
“Yes.”
They allowed me to continue teaching. A few months later, I went to visit my family in Cape Town for the Christmas holidays. While I was there, my mother told me she was going to leave her church after my stepfather passed away. At that very moment, the Lord helped me feel free of any feelings of guilt I had because of loyalty to my mother and the church I grew up in.
When I returned home, I called the branch president.
“I’d like to be baptized tomorrow,” I told him.
“David, are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I got a message from the Lord.”

Joseph was always willing to help children in need. Once, in Nauvoo, Illinois, Margarette McIntire and her brother Wallace were walking home after a rainstorm. The ground was very muddy, and the two children became stuck in the mud. Unable to get out, they began to cry. Soon, they looked up and saw the Prophet Joseph. He got them to higher ground, wiped the mud off their feet, and took out his handkerchief to wipe away their tears. He spoke kind words to them and sent them home with smiles on their faces.

Today I received the December New Era, and it was a blessing and inspiration in my life. The article “The Christmas Present” was especially close to my heart because four years ago I too spent Christmas day in a hospital bed. I had sustained a badly broken back and serious internal injuries as the result of a car accident. As I read this article, I was reading about myself because the emotions expressed were the same ones I was feeling then—loneliness and depression. But thanks to a beautiful family and a lot of wonderful people in the Anaheim California Stake, it was a beautiful Christmas. My back was completely healed, and my heart is full tonight as I thank you for sharing this article. I especially want to thank Brother Dearden for “forcing” me to relive that Christmas four years ago and remember again how greatly I am blessed.
Shelley SheltonEl Paso, Texas

Brandon (16), Jake (15), Melissa (12), and Grace (9) moved to Uruguay for three years when their parents were called as leaders of the Uruguay Montevideo Mission. December was hot and humid in Uruguay, nothing like the cold, snowy Christmases they were used to. Even though being away from home and family for three Christmases was hard, they found happiness as they served people around them. Each Christmas season, the family and the missionaries would wear red “Light the World” shirts as they served around the country.
“We went to the parks and beaches in Montevideo with the missionaries and cleaned up trash and debris from the summer storms,” says Jake. Brandon remembers, “The first Christmas we were in Uruguay, we taped candies to ‘Light the World’ pass-along cards to hand out. At sunset, lots of people would gather along the beach, so it was the perfect spot to give them candy and a card, even though we didn’t speak much Spanish.”
Photograph by Julie Olsen
For these siblings, serving made them feel at home and helped them focus on the Savior and the true meaning of Christmas.
Jake says, “Doing service for Light the World helped Christmas feel special. Even though we were used to having a white Christmas, serving made the warm Uruguayan summer feel like Christmas.” Melissa agrees. “Doing service took my mind off of what I was missing at home,” she says. “Making others happy made us happy and helped us feel more at home.”

Some members of the Church have said to me, “Why should we keep a store of food on hand? If a real emergency came in this lawless world, a neighbor would simply come with his gun and take it from us. What would you do if a person came and demanded your food?” I replied that I would share whatever I had with him, and he wouldn’t have to use a gun to obtain that assistance either.

“I wouldn’t,” replied one man. “I have a gun, and I wouldn’t hesitate to use it to defend my family. Anyone would have to kill me first in order to get food away from me! After all, they bring their own misery on themselves by not being prepared!”

The best example of this is a missionary. A missionary is willing to leave the comforts of home and family and serve in an unfamiliar area for an extended period of time. There are many examples of our early pioneer missionaries who left to serve with barely a suit of clothing, a pair of socks, and a Book of Mormon. My great, great grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Johnson, served several early missions for the Church including one here, to what was then known as the Sandwich Islands, in 1852. He was married at the time and so he left most of his earthly goods with his family for their support during his absence and journeyed with very little to the West Coast and then on to Hawaii. His journal relates many financial struggles but always a conviction that the Lord would provide a way. When it came time for him to return home from his mission in 1855, he was left without any means to pay for his passage home – a sum of $50. He resigned himself to the fact that he would likely have to wait another six months before his fare could be raised when a faithful convert from the Island of Hawaii gave the mission a sum of $150, a portion of which he offered for the use of my great, great grandfather’s passage home.1 This is not only an example of how the Lord provided for my great, great grandfather, but also an example of how others can become the hands of the Lord here on Earth – which I will talk more of later.

Our missionaries today also put their complete trust in the Lord. One young friend of mine from Colorado recently entered the MTC in Provo to begin learning a new language: Korean. Her family kindly shares her weekly letters with me and I would like to share one of her recent comments:
“I have never studied so hard in my life and it truly is paying off. I notice the Lord in my life every day and cannot give thanks enough for all the blessings I receive. It has been so humbling to learn Korean. I know the gift of tongues is real. It is amazing how much the Lord will bless your life if you just put forth the effort and prepare to receive blessings. I love this gospel!”2
Learning a new language and then being able to share a gospel message in that language is a true example of road sign #1 – putting complete trust in the Lord.

When I was in high school, a counselor read the results of my test scores and told me she did not think I would do well in college. But after I prayerfully studied my patriarchal blessing, I felt I should not abandon my lifelong goal. So, because I had insight into the Lord’s plan for me, I had hope in my heart, and I was able to move ahead confidently. I discovered that I was successful in that setting, and I earned a university diploma. When we know who we are and what we are supposed to do, it is easier to make important decisions about education, careers, and marriage. It is easier to shine our light in our families, with our friends, and in all other places.

As I walk along the streets on my way to or from the Church Office Building, I see both young and older women, many of them “daughters of Zion,” who are immodestly dressed. I realize that times and fashions do change. Still, this reminds me of a time when I was a youth attending the Salt Lake Stake Academy and later the Latter-day Saints University.
The girls were dressed neatly from head to foot in shirtwaists and full skirts down to their ankles. I recall an incident that happened when a group of students—young girls and boys—took a short trip up City Creek Canyon. While doing a little hiking, one of the girls slipped and caught her dress on a limb, exposing her leg to the knee. She was so embarrassed that she wanted to withdraw from the group and return home. It took some persuasion by the other girls to have her remain and try to forget the incident.
It is a lot more common nowadays to see a knee than it was back then, and I’m not saying that a girl who wears a dress exposing the knees is bad. I’m trying to relay a feeling that we should have.

It tells of a tiny striped caterpillar and how he joined a pile of other squirming, pushing caterpillars who were trying to get to the top of the pile. It was only when he talked to a certain yellow caterpillar that the two of them decided that getting on the top wasn’t really what they wanted most. So, they climbed down and away from the others. They enjoyed being together, and they ate and grew fat until one day they became bored, and they wanted to find out if there was more to life. The striped caterpillar decided to find out by climbing again to the top of the caterpillar pile. The yellow caterpillar felt ashamed that she didn’t agree but decided it was better to wait until she could take action she could believe in. So he climbed, and she wandered aimlessly until she saw a caterpillar hanging upside down on a branch and caught in some hairy substance. She said, “You seem to be in trouble. Can I help you?” “No,” said the hanging caterpillar, “I have to do this to become a butterfly.”

“Butterfly? What is a butterfly?”

“It’s what you are meant to be. It flies with beautiful wings and joins the earth to heaven. It drinks only nectar from the flowers and carries seeds of love from one flower to another. Without butterflies the world would soon have few flowers.”

The yellow caterpillar exclaimed, “It can’t be true! How can I believe there’s a butterfly inside you or me when all I see is a fuzzy worm? How does one become a butterfly?”

The hanging caterpillar said, “You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.”

The yellow caterpillar began fearfully but continued the process until at length she became a butterfly. Then she helped the striped caterpillar learn who he was and leave the pile to become what he was really meant to be.

I have just returned from a visit where I welcomed into the world our newest little granddaughter, Elizabeth Claire Sandberg. She is perfect! I was awestruck, as I am each time a baby is born, with her fingers, toes, hair, beating heart, and her distinctive family characteristics—nose, chin, dimples. Her older brothers and sister were equally excited and fascinated by their tiny, perfect little sister. They seemed to sense a holiness in their home from the presence of a celestial spirit newly united with a pure physical body.
In the premortal realm we learned that the body was part of God’s great plan of happiness for us. As it states in the family proclamation: “Spirit sons and daughters knew and worshiped God as their Eternal Father and accepted His plan by which His children could obtain a physical body and gain earthly experience to progress toward perfection and ultimately realize his or her divine destiny as an heir of eternal life” (“The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” Liahona, Oct. 2004, 49; Ensign, Nov. 1995, 102). In fact, we “shouted for joy” (Job 38:7) to be part of this plan.
Why were we so excited? We understood eternal truths about our bodies. We knew that our bodies would be in the image of God. We knew that our bodies would house our spirits. We also understood that our bodies would be subject to pain, illness, disabilities, and temptation. But we were willing, even eager, to accept these challenges because we knew that only with spirit and element inseparably connected could we progress to become like our Heavenly Father (see D&C 130:22) and “receive a fulness of joy” (D&C 93:33).
With the fulness of the gospel on the earth, we are again privileged to know these truths about the body. Joseph Smith taught: “We came to this earth that we might have a body and present it pure before God in the Celestial Kingdom. The great principle of happiness consists in having a body. The Devil has no body, and herein is his punishment” (The Words of Joseph Smith, ed. Andrew F. Ehat and Lyndon W. Cook [1980], 60).
Satan learned these same eternal truths about the body, and yet his punishment is that he does not have one. Therefore he tries to do everything he can to get us to abuse or misuse this precious gift. He has filled the world with lies and deceptions about the body. He tempts many to defile this great gift of the body through unchastity, immodesty, self-indulgence, and addictions. He seduces some to despise their bodies; others he tempts to worship their bodies. In either case, he entices the world to regard the body merely as an object. In the face of so many satanic falsehoods about the body, I want to raise my voice today in support of the sanctity of the body. I testify that the body is a gift to be treated with gratitude and respect.
The scriptures declare that the body is a temple. It was Jesus Himself who first compared His body to a temple (see John 2:21). Later Paul admonished the people of Corinth, a wicked city teeming with all manner of lasciviousness and indecency: “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are” (1 Cor. 3:16–17).
What would happen if we truly treated our bodies as temples? The result would be a dramatic increase in chastity, modesty, observance of the Word of Wisdom, and a similar decrease in the problems of pornography and abuse, for we would regard the body, like the temple, as a sacred sanctuary of the Spirit. Just as no unclean thing may enter the temple, we would be vigilant to keep impurity of any sort from entering the temple of our bodies.
Likewise, we would keep the outside of our bodily temples looking clean and beautiful to reflect the sacred and holy nature of what is inside, just as the Church does with its temples. We should dress and act in ways that reflect the sacred spirit inside us.
A short while ago as I visited one of the great tourist-filled cities of the world, I felt an overwhelming sadness that so many people in the world had fallen prey to Satan’s deception that our bodies are merely objects to be flaunted and displayed openly. Imagine the contrast and my joy when I entered a classroom of modestly and appropriately dressed young women whose countenances glowed with goodness. I thought, “Here are eight beautiful girls who know how to show respect for their bodies and who know why they are doing it.” In For the Strength of Youth it says: “Your body is God’s sacred creation. Respect it as a gift from God, and do not defile it in any way. Through your dress and appearance, you can show the Lord that you know how precious your body is. … The way you dress is a reflection of what you are on the inside” ([2001], 14–15).
Modesty is more than a matter of avoiding revealing attire. It describes not only the altitude of hemlines and necklines but the attitude of our hearts. The word modesty means “measured.” It is related to moderate. It implies “decency, and propriety … in thought, language, dress, and behavior” (in Daniel H. Ludlow, ed., Encyclopedia of Mormonism, 5 vols. [1992], 2:932).
Moderation and appropriateness should govern all of our physical desires. A loving Heavenly Father has given us physical beauties and pleasures “both to please the eye and to gladden the heart” (D&C 59:18), but with this caution: that they are “made to be used, with judgment, not to excess, neither by extortion” (D&C 59:20). My husband used this scripture to teach our children about the law of chastity. He said that the “word extortion … literally means to ‘twist out [or against].’ Our use of … the body must not be twisted [against] the divinely ordained purposes for which [it was] given. Physical pleasure is good in its proper time and place, but even then it must not become our god” (John S. Tanner, “The Body as a Blessing,” Ensign, July 1993, 10).
The pleasures of the body can become an obsession for some; so too can the attention we give to our outward appearance. Sometimes there is a selfish excess of exercising, dieting, makeovers, and spending money on the latest fashions (see Alma 1:27).
I am troubled by the practice of extreme makeovers. Happiness comes from accepting the bodies we have been given as divine gifts and enhancing our natural attributes, not from remaking our bodies after the image of the world. The Lord wants us to be made over—but in His image, not in the image of the world, by receiving His image in our countenances (see Alma 5:14, 19).
I remember well the insecurities I felt as a teenager with a bad case of acne. I tried to care for my skin properly. My parents helped me get medical attention. For years I even went without eating chocolate and all the greasy fast foods around which teens often socialize, but with no obvious healing consequences. It was difficult for me at that time to fully appreciate this body which was giving me so much grief. But my good mother taught me a higher law. Over and over she said to me, “You must do everything you can to make your appearance pleasing, but the minute you walk out the door, forget yourself and start concentrating on others.”
There it was. She was teaching me the Christlike principle of selflessness. Charity, or the pure love of Christ, “envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own” (Moro. 7:45). When we become other-oriented, or selfless, we develop an inner beauty of spirit that glows in our outward appearance. This is how we make ourselves in the Lord’s image rather than the world’s and receive His image in our countenances. President Hinckley spoke of this very kind of beauty that comes as we learn to respect body, mind, and spirit. He said:
“Of all the creations of the Almighty, there is none more beautiful, none more inspiring than a lovely daughter of God who walks in virtue with an understanding of why she should do so, who honors and respects her body as a thing sacred and divine, who cultivates her mind and constantly enlarges the horizon of her understanding, who nurtures her spirit with everlasting truth” (“Understanding Our Divine Nature,” Liahona, Feb. 2002, 24; “Our Responsibility to Our Young Women,” Ensign, Sept. 1988, 11).
Oh, how I pray that all men and women will seek the beauty praised by the prophet—beauty of body, mind, and spirit!
The restored gospel teaches that there is an intimate link between body, mind, and spirit. In the Word of Wisdom, for example, the spiritual and physical are intertwined. When we follow the Lord’s law of health for our bodies, we are also promised wisdom to our spirits and knowledge to our minds (see D&C 89:19–21). The spiritual and physical truly are linked.
I remember an incident in my home growing up when my mother’s sensitive spirit was affected by a physical indulgence. She had experimented with a new sweet roll recipe. They were big and rich and yummy—and very filling. Even my teenage brothers couldn’t eat more than one. That night at family prayer my father called upon Mom to pray. She buried her head and didn’t respond. He gently prodded her, “Is something wrong?” Finally she said, “I don’t feel very spiritual tonight. I just ate three of those rich sweet rolls.” I suppose that many of us have similarly offended our spirits at times by physical indulgences. Especially substances forbidden in the Word of Wisdom have a harmful effect on our bodies and a numbing influence on our spiritual sensitivities. None of us can ignore this connection of our spirits and bodies.
These sacred bodies, for which we are so grateful, suffer from natural limitations. Some people are born with disabilities, and some suffer the pains of disease throughout their lives. All of us as we age experience our bodies gradually beginning to fail. When this happens, we long for the day when our bodies will be healed and whole. We look forward to the Resurrection that Jesus Christ made possible, when “the soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea, and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a hair of the head shall not be lost; but all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame” (Alma 40:23). I know that through Christ we can experience a fulness of joy that is available only when spirit and element are inseparably connected (see D&C 93:33).
Our bodies are our temples. We are not less but more like Heavenly Father because we are embodied. I testify that we are His children, made in His image, with the potential to become like Him. Let us treat this divine gift of the body with great care. Someday, if we are worthy, we shall receive a perfected, glorious body—pure and clean like my new little granddaughter, only inseparably bound to the spirit. And we shall shout for joy (see Job 38:7) to receive this gift again for which we have longed (see D&C 138:50). May we respect the sanctity of the body during mortality so that the Lord may sanctify and exalt it for eternity. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Whilst reluctant to be overly personal, I am the product of such a home. For most of my childhood and teenage years, my mother raised us on her own in poor circumstances. Money was carefully rationed. She coped with an inner loneliness, desperate at times for support and companionship. Yet despite all of this, there was a dignity about my mother, a tremendous source of determination and sheer Scottish grit.

Thankfully, her later years were more blessed than the beginning. She married a new convert, a widower; they were sealed in the London England Temple and later briefly served there as ordinance workers. They were together for almost a quarter of a century—happy, content, and fulfilled until overtaken by mortality.

Once when I was 16 years old, I was in a restaurant with some friends from church. A man who knew one of us came in. He said, “I want to invite all of you to drink some liquor right here and now.”
I remember standing up and saying, “None of us drink liquor. And if you want to drink, go find somewhere else to do it.”
This man was in his early 20s and much larger than I was—a very strong man—and he became mad. He brought a glass of liquor to me and said, “I’m going to make you drink this!”
I said, “Don’t try it. There could be unfortunate consequences.” He tried to grab me and force me to drink the liquor. The next thing I knew, the man was lying on the floor. I really didn’t have the strength to defend myself against that man, but Heavenly Father provided what I lacked.
Much later, when I was a husband, father, and businessman, I was invited to attend a lunch with the president of the Republic of Guatemala. I found myself in a room with many other guests. When the president entered, waiters poured liquor so that everyone could join in a toast. But I covered my glass with my hand. The president said, “Mr. Pérez, won’t you join me in a toast?”
I replied, “Mr. President, if you’re asking me if I will wish you success in your government, I will. But if you’re asking me if I will drink liquor, I will not. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If that is a problem, I can leave right now.”
He said, “No, no.” They drank their liquor, and we sat down. A little later the president said, “Tell me something of your church,” and I did.
It doesn’t matter where we are or whom we are with, we can always stand by our principles. If we make a firm decision once and for all, when temptations arise we don’t have to think, “What am I going to do?” or “What am I not going to do?” The decision is already made.
We are never alone. Even though His creation is so immense, our Father in Heaven knows that you live and that I live. He knows our hearts. He knows our thoughts. He has given us His perfect plan of happiness because He loves us. He is always searching for ways to bless us.

Youth in the Short Hills Ward, Caldwell New Jersey Stake, got their “mission calls” a few years early, when a group of missionaries in their area planned “the ultimate missionary Saturday” for them at the local meetinghouse.
The youth were instructed in advance to wear missionary clothing, bring their scriptures, and keep an arm’s length from the opposite sex. Once they arrived, they got a mini-MTC experience, then went tracting through the building, where members were staged and gave them both rejection experiences and discussion-teaching experiences.
By the end of the day, some were reluctant to be “released.” Others decided they would try to carry the missionary spirit they’d gained that day with them for the rest of their lives.

A second experience concerns an elder serving in our mission, who gave this account of his conversion:
“During my first year in high school I became aware of a small group of fellow students who seemed to have a tightly knit bond of fellowship between them. They acted differently from the rest of the students. Their language was clean, their standards were high, even their appearance was different. They were not on drugs, and they did not smoke or drink. I admired them and tried to become acquainted with them.
“They were always having such a good time together, holding their own parties, dances, and other socials. I was told by someone that they belonged to the LDS church, but that did not matter to me. I still wanted to belong to their group.
“I hinted as much as I dared that I would like to attend some of their socials, but they didn’t take the hint. Finally in my senior year, I summoned the courage to ask them outright if I could possibly attend some of their socials, even though I was not a member of their church.
“Within a few weeks I was baptized into their church, and here I am now, about a year and a half later, on a mission for our church. When I see how difficult it is to find converts in the mission field, I wonder why these fellow students of mine found it so difficult to invite me to go with them.”

Between Nauvoo and Montrose, the Mississippi River is 1.6 kilometers wide. Necessity often required Mary Ann to make the dangerous river crossing in a skiff to obtain food. One day in late November 1839, Mary Ann was suffering from malaria, and her hungry children were crying for food.

Mary Ann tossed a tattered blanket into the boat and wrapped another around herself and the infant Emma Alice. A winter storm had come up, and a stiff north westerly wind swept across the river. Wearing a thin cotton dress and shawl, Mary Ann rowed into wind-whipped waves that soaked her and her baby.

Finally Mary Ann reached Nauvoo and visited a friend, who fed her. “Sister Young came into my house … with her baby Alice in her arms, almost fainting with cold and hunger, and dripping wet,” this sister recorded. “I tried to persuade her to stay, but she refused, saying, ‘the children at home are hungry, too.’ I shall never forget how she looked, shivering with cold and thinly clad. … She came back [from the tithing office] with a few potatoes and a little flour, for which she seemed very grateful, and … weak as she was from ague and fever, wended her way to the river bank” to row home again.10

Let me begin with a difficult personal example that has caused me to contemplate the great blessing and privilege of communication.

Our 2 ½-year-old grandson, Jack, was just diagnosed with a rare genetic deletion. It is called Phelan/McDermid syndrome. Although his case is shown to be on the mild end of the spectrum, he nevertheless, is missing the speech gene on the 22nd chromosome. He is the sweetest, most social little guy, but it is becoming increasingly frustrating to both him and his parents that he cannot talk. He tries so hard to show what he wants or needs, and his parents (and I when I am with him) try to read his eyes, watch all of his body language, and listen to guidance from the Holy Ghost to understand what he is trying to tell us.

From Jack I am learning anew what a privilege it is simply to be able to communicate! When one either cannot or does not communicate, anger, resentment, misunderstanding, and frustration abound. We are looking for miracle workers and angels like Helen Keller’s teacher Ann Sullivan, who will help unlock this door of silence for our little Jack. We are learning how crucial talking is to understanding, guiding, and loving one another. May you and I who enjoy the privilege of communication use and develop our communication skills to understand and to bless others.